Work Text:
0+9
Goro is nearing his tenth birthday when he meets Akira for the first time.
His mother doesn't drop him off at the bathhouse as usual. She pulls him along until the bustling station comes into view, sunflower dress fluttering around her ankles. The sparkle in her eyes makes the bags underneath less apparent, and Goro looks at her in silent wonder, unable to remember the last time he's seen her like this.
They hold hands the whole way.
"I'm going to meet a nice man today," she explains.
They get off after a few stops and walk until the crowd thins out and stop in front of a café. She bends down to ruffle his hair, dropping some yen into his hands. "Go get something nice and wait for me here, okay? The owner has a new kid, I heard."
Goro nods respectfully and stares at the shiny coins as she leaves.
The café is as small as it looks on the outside. It reminds Goro of a piece tucked away in someone's pocket, not necessarily forgotten, but not deliberately sought out either. There's a woman dozing off in the far corner, her eyes lined with thick coal, and the only barista present is idly tapping away on his phone. Goro's eyes squint in search of a board with prices.
He finds none, but climbs onto one of the high stools at the counter anyway.
"A coffee, please," he says.
It's what adults and his mother drink every morning, so it makes sense to get one as well.
The barista is pretty, with long hair and even longer eyelashes. He regards him silently for a few seconds, but slips his phone into his pocket in one fluid motion. "One coffee, coming up."
A few minutes later, Goro is trying very hard not to spit the barista's hard work all over the counter. He doesn't think the barista did anything wrong, which means that adults drink this every morning voluntarily. His line of thought must show on his face because the barista lets out a soft chuckle.
Not condescending, but still in a way that suggests he's amused—Goro would puff out his cheeks if he weren't so busy getting rid of the taste of coffee on his tongue.
"Shall I make you some hot chocolate instead?"
Blinking back tears, Goro nods eagerly.
"Yes, please."
Goro stares at the now empty mug in front of him. His belly swirls with a warmth that reminds him of melting marshmallows and rays of sunlight peeking through window blinds.
It's the best hot chocolate he's ever had.
1+10
A month has passed, and his thoughts keep looping to the café with the mysterious barista.
Goro's back to going to the bathhouse every other day, but maybe the man his mother wore her sunflower dress for really was nice, because on a sunny weekend they take the train back to the city.
Having given this scenario an embarrassing amount of thought, this time he doesn't waste a second and jumps away before his mother can drop a few coins into his hands again.
"Marry me," Goro says, tugging at the barista's sleeve.
The barista—Akira, he learns, this time he made sure to look for the name tag—blinks at him.
Maybe he shouldn't have interrupted him in the middle of his work, but Goro thinks his proposal is important enough to warrant it.
This time there's another gruff looking man behind the counter. He shakes his head when Goro repeats his declaration.
"Kids these days," the man grunts. “So full of themselves.”
Akira bows to the customer he was just serving and crouches down to Goro.
"You're the hot chocolate kid," he says, more of an observation than an answers, really.
Goro puffs out his cheeks, even though he knows it makes him look a little silly. He just turned 10 last week—hardly a child anymore. He doesn't like Akira squatting down either, but generous as he is, he'll let it slide this once.
"Yes, I am. Will you marry me now?"
"What's your name?" Akira asks, completely evading his question.
"Goro."
"All right, Goro-chan. Where did that question come from?"
Goro blinks at all the questions but remains unshaken in his resolve. "You make the best hot chocolate," he says, as if it wasn't obvious.
Akira's chuckle makes his eyes crinkle behind his glasses and Goro almost misses what he says next. "And that's a reason for you to marry me?"
Goro nods. He wants to keep drinking the nice hot chocolate—marrying him will ensure that, and Akira won't be able to leave, unlike his father.
"You might wanna think about it a little more." Akira stands up and points to the counter. "Here, why don't you sit down? I'll make you some hot chocolate."
Goro perks up at the mention of hot chocolate, proposal momentarily forgotten.
"Oh," he says, blushing with embarrassment as he feels the emptiness of his hands and pockets. "I don't have any money on me."
Akira waves him off. "It's on the house—"
"On your tab," the gruff man interrupts, barely sparing him a glance.
Akira's smile turns into a low laugh.
"Don't worry about the money," he says to Goro in a hushed tone, like he's sharing a secret. "So, what do you think?"
"How do you get someone to marry you, Mama?"
She stops reading out aloud. "Is there someone you like, darling?"
Goro nods. "He's really pretty," he says. "And kind. He doesn't make fun of my hair. And he makes the best hot chocolate—hey," he huffs as his mother's chest begins to rumble with laughter. "I'm being serious!"
His mother closes the book in front of them so that he can snuggle even closer.
"I know, I know," she says, nipping at his accusing fingers playfully. "What you're asking is just... a big decision for someone so young, you know?"
"I'm old enough," Goro pouts. He turns in his mother's embrace to look at her quizzically. "How do I get him to marry me?"
"Is it Sojiro's new barista?"
"You mean Akira?"
"Yes." She taps her chin curiously at his tentative nod. "Hm, I see. I suppose you can try to court him. If he allows it."
Goro tilts his head. "Courting?"
"It's when you try to get to know another person with the intention of marrying them." She exhales softly and rubs her cheek against his hair. Goro giggles, forgetting to pretend he doesn't like it. "You pay them special attention, bring them gifts, things like that. Just let them know that you want to marry them."
"Okay," he says.
2+10
Goro manages to get something like a small job from the only neighbour who doesn't look at him strangely. In return for a few yen, he feeds her cats and tends to her plants when she's away.
His mother tells him he's too young for anything else.
He uses most of the money to buy medicine for her, to help her in any way he can, but every now and then he has enough for himself to take the train to Leblanc.
He brings a flower with him, this time a pretty red one with many petals that he thinks will suit Akira well.
Akira's smile is routine by now, but Goro's breath is still caught in his throat when he sees it—it's a small, precious thing, and he's a little jealous of all the people who get to see it on a regular basis. Life just isn't fair.
"Thank you," Akira says and takes the flower from him.
He's placed a slim vase on the counter, one specially reserved for Goro's flowers. Pride blossoms in his chest every time he sees them—they usually don't last until his next visit, but he knows Akira takes good care of them.
"The usual?"
"Yes, please," Goro says, and remembering his mother's words about being especially polite to the people he likes, he adds, "would you please marry me, too?"
Akira pauses in the middle of pouring milk into a cup. After a few seconds he resumes, looking at him over the rim of his glasses. "So you were serious that one time."
He holds up his hand in surrender when Goro glares at him, pout on full display and all.
"Sorry, honey, it's just—I'm a bit older than you."
"So what?"
Akira chuckles good-naturedly. "Marriage is a very heavy commitment, Goro-chan."
He doesn't really know what that means, but he has a pretty good idea. "You don't think I can handle it?"
It wouldn't be the first time that people underestimated him because of his big eyes and his young age.
"It's not that. You still have a lot of time to grow up, and you'll meet so many new people," Akira explains. Goro lets him ruffle his hair lovingly, even if it messes everything up.
"You'll forget about me in a few years, trust me."
3+14
Goro doesn’t.
His mother dies; he carves a promise of revenge into his heart. Years pass and Goro still dreams of silver eyes and ebony locks and the smell of hot chocolate.
He's fourteen now, with more emotional baggage than an airport. Alone in the world, stuffed into a blazer that he'll grow into, his manager assures him.
Walking into Leblanc is like entering a room that once belonged to him, but shows little sign of it. It reminds him of another world, where everything was warm and simple, if you didn't look at the cracks underneath.
Akira doesn't look a day older, though he's outgrown the awkward teenage years, with broad shoulders and a tapered waist. He's taller, too, and with Goro's own growth spurt beginning, he hopes to catch up with Akira soon.
Akira's eyes light up with recognition almost immediately. A gust of wind across the still, midnight ocean. The warmth of his eyes is so familiar that it makes Goro ache all over.
"Goro-chan! It's been a while."
Goro stumbles into the cafe at the suffix, his cheeks a light shade of red. Akira didn't forget. Neither of them did, and the knowledge is bittersweet.
"Same as usual?"
A smile lifts the corner of his mouth, just barely. "Coffee this time, please."
"Ahhh, I see. Not a fan of hot chocolate anymore?"
Goro shakes his head—on the contrary, it is a rare pleasure that he does not indulge in often, as it leaves him with a feeling of longing—but does not elaborate further.
Akira hums, content with the lack of a definite answer. The silence drags on languidly. Goro wonders how he looks to him, perched on his seat like a bird of prey. With shiny new leather gloves and a suitcase that makes his arms ache, and bags under his eyes that almost match his mother's.
Akira smiles as if nothing has changed, and the coffee he serves tastes excellent—of course it would.
Goro doesn't say it out loud this time, because Akira is serving another customer who has just walked in, but he thinks to himself:
I will marry you.
He makes the mistake of bringing Sumire with him. And like most people, she's immediately taken with the gentle boy who radiates a strange, nonchalant kindness.
"Are—are you seeing someone, Kurusu-kun?" Sumire asks and at any other time, Goro would have teased her for being so nervous, but he doesn't find the situation funny at all, not in the slightest.
Akira looks caught off guard by the questions, but shrugs it off with the familiarity of someone who's had to deal with situations like these before.
Goro's fingers drum impatiently on the counter.
"Ah, I don't know. Not much time between school and taking care of my sister, you know?"
"Um, if you'd like to..."
Goro interrupts her. "Can I have some more coffee, Akira-kun?"
Akira looks down at his half empty cup. The arch of his eyebrow says more than any words could and Goro fights the urge to shrink back into his seat—he will not lose.
"... Sure," Akira says slowly.
Sumire clears her throat and gives Goro a funny look, which he deliberately ignores. "So, as I was about to ask, maybe we could—"
"Without milk this time. But some extra sugar."
Akira's eyes flicker between Goro's mask of indifference and Sumire's brewing indignance. His shoulders shake as he turns to grab the sugar box.
"Goro," Sumire hisses quietly, just at him. "What are you doing?"
He's mine, he almost hisses back, catching himself at the last second, "Didn't you hear him? He doesn't have time, so stop bothering him."
The look of pure disbelief she gives him is worth Akira's rumbling laughter.
4+15
It's not the first time Akira has walked him to the door, but it's the first time the two of them are alone, the café having closed half an hour ago. Time passes frighteningly easily in Akira's presence, whether they're engaged in conversation or sharing a comfortable silence.
Goro hovers in the doorway. The moon paints Akira in various shades of silver that reflects off his glasses, making him look more like a concept than anything realistic.
He's never understood art the way creative people do, but in these moments, he feels like he just might.
"I haven't forgotten." Goro says, the grip on his suitcase firm.
Akira smiles. "I didn't think you would."
"I still want to marry you."
"Goro," Akira says quietly, his expression dropping. "I don't think—"
Goro grabs his wrist, urgently, gently. He still has to tilt his chin to look up at him properly and suddenly he feels like a kid all over again.
"You're not saying no."
Akira huffs, but makes no move to pull away. "No, I'm not. Your tenacity is admirable, you know? But you shouldn't feel obligated to keep a silly promise you made when you barely reached my hip."
Goro stiffens, and Akira's eyes soften at the edges.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply that your promise was silly. But there are tons of other people out there. People who are more exciting and closer to your age."
No, Goro knows that there'll never be another like Akira. He knows with the same certainty that he will always love the second season of Featherman the most, he knows with the same certainty that one day he'll make his father pay.
"I will marry you," he says aloud this time, and Akira sighs in exasperation as he leads him outside.
He doesn't let go of his hand until the very last moment.
5+16
"Goro."
" … "
"Goooooro."
"What?"
"You're—heh—cute."
Of all the things he expected this night to be like, he hadn't anticipated this: a tired Sojiro calling to ask him to pick up a drunk Akira from a bar in Shinjuku.
Goro was out the door before Sojiro could finish his sentence.
It's the worst form of torture—his arm around Akira's waist because the man can't walk properly on his own, and Akira all over him, arm around his shoulder, using every excuse to erase what's left of their personal space.
"You're drunk," Goro says, because he really doesn't know what else to say besides the obvious.
"I know, I know." Akira continues to nuzzle his neck, nose ghosting along his grinding jaw. "Mhhh. You smell good, Goro-chan."
He hates how much his heart skips a beat at that. He's supposed to be cool, calm and collected, as the situation demands of him—not freak out because his drunk crush of six years called him cute.
He still ends up asking, "R-really?"
"Yup."
Even though Goro has only recently started wearing cologne, he swears he'll never go a day without it again.
Akira just hums contentedly.
Goro knows it's terribly wrong to take advantage of Akira's current state of lowered inhibitions, but he just has to ask. The question burns on the tip of his tongue, just like Akira's cheek burns against his own when Akira pushes them even closer together on a whim.
Goro might really die, tonight.
"Akira-kun," he tries. "Have you... have you ever thought about actually marrying me?"
Akira takes so long to answer that Goro thinks he has fallen asleep. Breath even against his collar, he wouldn't have minded—helping a sleeping drunk Akira home was considerably easier than helping a drunk Akira home, even if Goro was carrying most of his weight at this point. He's surprisingly light.
"'Course I did," Akira slurs.
Goro almost runs them both into a lamppost.
"Two years," Akira continues, something strange and unfamiliar lacing his voice. "Ask me again in two years, 'kay? And if you haven't moved on by then, I'll, mhhhh, really think about it."
"I won't," Goro says, looking straight ahead and not at him. Akira may be drunk, but that doesn't give his words any less weight. "I've been waiting for six years. I can take two more."
Akira sighs, drawn out and generous. He reeks of alcohol, but also something sweet, like candied fruit, like hopes and dreams.
"Wow. Keep that up and you're gonna be a real ladykiller one day," Akira says with a chuckle and goes back to his task of merging his face with Goro's shoulder.
Goro frowns.
He wants to say, I’m not into girls. But then he thinks about all the years that have passed and comes to the conclusion that he's not really into boys either.
He just likes Akira. That's all.
5+1+20
It takes Goro more than two years to propose again.
He doesn't manage to kill his father like he hoped, but he's rotting in prison now, which is good enough, he supposes.
That doesn't mean he comes out unscathed—he moves to America for two years, forced to keep a low profile.
It's different from the strictly coordinated life he led before. He takes odd jobs here and there to keep himself afloat, and Sumire and he exchange messages from time to time. Even though the coffee in the area where he lives tastes like shit and everyone prepares their hot chocolate with fucking hot water, he finds that it doesn't bother him too much—except for the hot chocolate part, maybe.
When he returns, stiff clothes exchanged for a much more fitting trench coat, he finds Leblanc closed. That day, and the next, and every week after that.
They moved out, a neighbour tells him, and nobody knows more than that.
Goro is thinking of pulling some of his old connections, calling in a few favours to track down the person who stole his heart and apparently decided to run away with it. But fate takes pity on him for once, because on a cold winter's day in the middle of Shibuya, a man bumps into Goro and forces them both tumbling to the ground.
Goro's voice is scathing despite his polite phrasing. "Please do watch where you're going next time, will you?" He hisses, but whatever else he’s about to spit dies instantly upon seeing the man in front of him.
The same dishevelled hair—slightly longer—and different glasses that do an even worse job of hiding the brightness of those grey eyes.
Goro is sure he's dreaming. He doesn't want to believe that this is real. But people are starting to stare, some already shouting at them to get off the ground and out of the way, and the sting around his knees tells him that they're slightly bruised from the fall, and yes—he's never felt more real than at this moment.
"Goro-chan, is that you?"
Breathing suddenly requires conscious effort. "You… you're still calling me that."
Not exactly what he wanted to say, but he's far from put together at the moment.
Akira rubs his neck sheepishly. Goro doesn't miss the little once-over he gives him when they both get up from the floor and fights hard not to do the same or he would just stare, like he always does in the end. They’re the same height now, with Goro being taller by the slightest margin.
A decade's worth of longing and repressed affection stirs in his chest, heavy as a storm on the verge of breaking.
"Marry me," he blurts out, taking Akira's hand and running leather-clad fingers over bruised knuckles.
Akira looks at him as if he'd never seen him before. And he might as well not, Goro thinks, considering how many years have passed and how they've been spent.
“I guess it’s not because of the hot chocolate anymore, huh?”
Goro shakes his head. “No."
It's everything else, always has been.
Akira looks down on their hands, eyebrows knitting together. "And you’re really sure I'm not too old for you? You’re like, what, twenty now? Because once you’re—"
"Akira," Goro manages. He's not sure how much more of this teasing he can take. He needs an answer, something definitive for once, with no room for misinterpretation. "Akira, please."
"All right, all right," Akira concedes, and he smiles, like the sun descending. "But before we marry—at least take me out on a date first?"
And while it's not exactly a confirmation, it's far from a rejection either.
Goro can work with that.