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Akira wasn’t sure he was breathing. He must have been, because he wasn’t passing out, but he couldn’t feel it. Couldn’t feel anything. His whole body was numb and cold, running on autopilot, drawing in deep, even breaths past the rock lodged in his throat. He wasn’t… He didn’t feel… He’d known. Of course he’d known. He wasn’t stupid. Goro’s chances of surviving were near impossible, and with Wakaba and Haru’s father… He’d known. Deep down. But he’d pushed it away, because Goro was there and he was alive and having him so close was just… it was enough to make him ignore the facts right before his eyes. Enough to make him place that small, persistent doubt in a small box at the back of his head and leave it there. Goro was alive. Goro was…
“I will carve my own path for myself.” The not-detective, liar, murderer said, shattering the heavy silence they’d fallen into. Akira stared down at the floor, at the edge of Goro’s dress shoes, barely breathing. This wasn’t fucking fair . He wanted— He wanted— “I refuse to accept a reality concocted by someone else, stuck under their control for the rest of my days.”
Akira clenched his hands to fists, distantly feeling his blunt nails dig into his palm. How could he talk about this like it was some… bland topic? How could he talk about his own life like— “You’ll die, Akechi.” He got out, voice rough and breathless. “For good.” The world was hazy and he was barely breathing and Goro was just standing there, a ghost, a walking corpse, a mirage built from Akira’s refusal to accept his death and he— he just— he couldn’t—
“So what?” Goro bit back, his feet shifting. Akira glanced up to see him with his arms crossed, lips pulled down to a sneer, and then looked back down at his feet again, because he looked so alive— “That’s the path I chose. All you have to do is stick to your guns and challenge Maruki.”
He paused and Akira felt his eyes on him, sharp and expectant. This was the part where Akira was supposed to nod and say something cool and level-headed, something like ‘Let’s do this’ or ‘Let’s take back our reality’. He turned his head away, focusing on Leblanc’s worn counter, where they’d played chess so many times before, where Goro had sipped his coffee and glanced up with that cutting smirk, his crimson eyes catching in the golden light of the afternoon. He couldn’t— He just— He needed more time— Goro scoffed irritably.
“Or are you really so spineless that you’d fold over some bullshit, trivial threat on my life?”
Akira’s breath left his lungs all at once, a seething anger flaring up inside him, filling the nauseous void, because how fucking dare he talk about his life like it was— “This isn’t trivial!” He snapped, voice loud in the cosy cafe, burning from the inside out with anger and guilt and a need for Goro to just shut his stupid goddamned mouth and think for once.
“It is!” Goro shouted back. “Do you think I’d be happy with this?” He demanded, gesturing out with a hand, leather glove catching in the light, just like the one Akira still had on his windowsill, the one he’d clung to after Shido’s ship because it was the only thing he had left— “Being shown mercy now of all times? I don’t want to be pitied—”
“It isn’t pity!” Akira yelled, feeling his breath coming in shorter and shorter bursts, choking on his anger. His control was slipping through his fingers and in its wake was every desperate, consuming, horrid emotion he’d been trying so hard to avoid— “It’s not— You fucking know it’s not—”
“Please.” Goro growled. “Don’t insult both of us by insinuating you feel anything for me that isn’t obligation.”
“Oh my god.” Akira gasped, thrusting his hands into his hair, tugging at the curly strands as the whole fucking world unravelled around him. He was standing on the edge of a tipping point and every goddamn word out of Goro’s mouth was pushing him closer and closer to falling. “How can you be so damn dense?”
“Excuse me? What, do you honestly think this is anything more than some inane way for you to assuage your guilt over the one person you couldn’t save—”
“Would you shut up for five fucking seconds ?!” Akira yelled, tears spilling down his cheeks, fingers scrabbling over his scalp, trying desperately to ground himself, something inside him cracking and splintering and falling apart too quickly to be controlled. He hated not having control and there was nothing about this he could control; feelings were large and unknowable and he couldn’t fucking breathe. “You don’t know a single goddamn thing about what I feel—”
“Fucking spare me, Akira!” Goro bit out. “You think you’re so unreadable with your perfect little poker face but really you’re an open fucking book!” He laughed; a high, desperate, delirious sound that fanned Akira’s anger, made his hands clench tighter in his hair, shoved him closer and closer towards the tipping point he really didn’t want to go over— “You’re just a stupid little kid with a hero complex that can’t accept that I don’t want to be saved because that would mean admitting you’re not some perfect knight in shining armor.” Shut up. God, could he just shut up? Akira needed— he just needed— “I don’t want your fucking pity , Akira! I won’t live in this bullshit fantasy world where I’m nothing more than a glorified walking corpse just because you can’t accept the fact that I’m dead—”
Akira fell. He took two steps forward, grabbed the lapels of Goro’s jacket, and pulled. Their lips smashed together in a way that was more a collision than a kiss, Akira having absolutely zero experience with anything close to this sort of thing and being far too fucking angry to use anything he might have had regardless. He just needed Goro to shut up, needed him to listen, needed to win.
He stepped back, his whole body trembling, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He bit out, running purely on anger and spite and adrenaline. “You don’t know me nearly as well as you fucking think you do.”
Goro stood deathly still in front of him, frozen to the spot, his crimson eyes wide with shock, his freckled cheeks flushed a dark pink. He brought a gloved hand to press against his mouth, chest heaving, and Akira finally realized what he’d done. “Shit.” He whispered, the other boy’s eyes sharpening at the word, locking onto him with the feverish intensity he’d only ever seen from him in the Metaverse, moments before the Shadow he was fighting was nothing but dust in the wind. Akira took a step back. “Akechi,” He started, holding his hands out placatingly, moving back as Goro stepped forward with that wild look in his eye. “Akechi, I’m sorr—”
He was cut off by lips colliding with his. Goro’s arms wrapped around his shoulders, his hand thrusting into his hair to angle his head. Akira stumbled backwards helplessly, hands landing on his hips, mouth parting instantly at the tongue probing his lips. He wasn’t sure if it was a good kiss. He also couldn’t give less of a fuck. Because Goro’s hands were in his hair and his lips were on his lips and his tongue was in his mouth and Akira was fucking lost , hands scrabbling up Goro’s back, fisting into his coat, pressing against him, their teeth clicking together in their haste, all desperation and anger and need . Months of tension and denial and skirting around what the both knew was there had finally cumulated in this moment and it was all— so much.
They parted with gasping breaths, Akira’s head swimming, hands clenched tightly in Goro’s coat, feeling like if he let go, even the slightest inch, he’d go up in smoke. The other boy was staring back at him, pupils blown wide, his cheeks flushed and his lips a vivid red, swollen and shining with moisture. Akira surged forward, wrapping his arms tighter around him, burying his face in the side of his neck, his scarf, breathing in the scent of floral cologne and leather and Goro. It wasn’t fair. None of this was fucking fair.
He felt Goro’s grip shift on him in turn, the hand in his hair loosening its grip enough to smooth through the curly mess, the arm around his shoulders holding him tight. “You’re so foolish.” He whispered, voice quiet and soft and vulnerable , like nothing Akira had ever heard from him before, catching in his heart and squeezing.
“That makes two of us.” He mumbled back.
There was a beat of silence before Goro sighed, the hand on his hair stilling, holding him closer. “We can’t stay here, Akira.” He whispered, tilting his cheek into the top of his head.
“I know.” Akira mumbled, shifting to press a kiss to his jaw, feeling Goro shiver. “Tomorrow, we’ll fight. We’ll win.”
Goro huffed a sad, resigned laugh. “When you say it like that I can almost believe you.”
“Then believe me.” Akira said firmly, kissing his jaw, again and again and again, moving along the sharp curve of it until he reached his chin, pulling back enough to meet his eyes. “Believe me that we’ll succeed. Believe me that we’ll win.” He carefully moved one hand from his back to cup his face, watching, mesmerized, as Goro leaned into his touch, as if by instinct. God, they were both so stupid. “Believe me that I love you.”
Goro’s breath hitched and stuttered, his eyes falling shut, brow furrowing. “You…” He sighed, pressing a kiss to his palm that had Akira’s heart fluttering. “You’re so unbearably earnest.”
Akira shrugged helplessly, tentatively running his thumb over Goro’s cheekbone, drinking up the small sigh he got in return. It was… nice. Soft. Comfortable. After so long spent holding himself back, stopping just short of touching, it was nice to just… let go. To see Goro let go in turn. To know there was a part of him that was just as hopelessly smitten as Akira was. He wanted… He wanted to stay here. To have this. To keep it forever, safely locked away from the outside world, just the two of them in their own little haven. But a life like that, a life inside of a cage, no matter how hospitable… It wasn’t a life he wanted to live. It wasn’t a life he could live. And yet…
“Stay.” He breathed, brushing some hair away from Goro’s face, kissing his temple. Goro went tense beneath his touch, those crimson eyes cracking open to track his every movement, tense, wary, always wary. “With me. Just for tonight. Just for a small bit longer.” He leant forward, pressing their foreheads together, feeling Goro reluctantly lean into him. “We can pretend. Just for tonight. That there’s more than this. That we’re more than this. Tomorrow, we’ll fight, I promise you. But for tonight… let’s pretend. Please, Goro. Stay with me.”
He felt Goro’s breath brush across his lips in one long, deep exhale, his shoulders slumping reluctantly. They were both so worn and tired and hopeless. “Alright.” He whispered, pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips. “Alright. I’ll stay. For tonight.”
“Just for tonight.”