Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/11426562.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Persona_5
  Relationship:
      Akechi_Goro/Kurusu_Akira, Akechi_Goro/Persona_5_Protagonist
  Character:
      Akechi_Goro, Kurusu_Akira, Persona_5_Protagonist, Sakura_Sojiro, Sakura
      Futaba
  Additional Tags:
      Eventual_Smut, Denial_of_Feelings, Angst, Fluff, Praise_Kink, Hair-
      pulling, Anal_Fingering, Anal_Sex, Begging, Hand_Jobs, copious_amounts_of
      chocolate, akira_is_too_nice_for_his_own_good, spoilers_past_fourth
      palace, goro_contradicts_himself_24/7, this_is_wordy_im_sorry
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-07-17 Words: 13696
****** Chocolate Boy ******
by nafnaf
Summary
     Goro's worst headaches are ironically his best memories, and Akira
     Kurusu is to blame.
Notes
     i am incapable of writing anything other than angst, it seems
     this started as me self-projecting onto goro... again... and thus the
     headcanon that goro gets a lot of migraines/gets dizzy easily was
     born.
     yes, there are foods that make you vulnerable to headaches. sweet
     things especially make me nauseated and that sucks because GOD I LOVE
     SWEETS but eh sometimes you must suffer to get the good things in
     life right? ;)
     i didn't mean for this to be so angsty ahdkfnslf it was just gonna be
     shameless flirting but anyway
     enjoy and please make sure to kudos/comment!
See the end of the work for more notes
A block of chocolate is all it takes for his carefully-crafted routine to
rumple its folds. Akira offers it with nonchalance, a mere, “Want some
chocolate with that?” and Goro hesitates a second too long. Akira smirks, a
fleeting ghost of a thing, and lays it beside Goro’s coffee. “It was a gift to
me from a friend—thought I could share it with you, if you’d like.”
Goro pauses, remembering that chocolate makes him dizzy. He almost tells Akira,
wanting to end their conversation, but like an idiot, he says “yes” instead,
and Akira beams with pleasure. Goro, meanwhile, is screaming on the inside.
You don’t even like chocolate, so why the hell did you say yes?
He huffs and dismisses it. Under Akira’s scrutiny, Goro has no choice but to
insert the treat in his mouth, chewing cautiously in case of any sudden waves
of nausea. But then, after realizing he's not in any immediate danger… 
“… It’s… sweet,” Goro comments, pleasantly surprised. Akira cocks a brow.
“Well, of course. What, were you expecting it to be bitter?”
“No.” Goro flushes, but he can’t help but break out into a tiny smile. The
chocolate is a lot more delicious than anticipated, though he can’t let eating
it become a habit. Quickly, he finishes his coffee and reaches to put on his
coat. “Thank you for the chocolate, Kurusu-kun. It was a delightful addition to
the coffee.”
Akira nods, stealing a bite from his own chocolate. “No problem. Hey, I can get
you some more if you want. I have a ton just sitting in the attic, waiting to
be devoured.”
Goro is almost eager to decline, but given his positive reaction to the
chocolate, it would seem strange to back out now. “If that’s alright with you,
Kurusu-kun, then yes—I’m glad to relieve you of the burden.”
Akira smiles; the flash of teeth is almost mischievous, a hint of the schoolboy
facade fading underneath wide-framed glasses and black curls. “Sure, of course.
Be right back.”
He retreats into the attic and Goro thinks, What in God’s name did you just
agree to?But Akira returns with a box of chocolates and Goro feels his
heartbeat pick up in excitement. “Here you are,” says Akira, hand outstretched.
Goro wavers before accepting the gift. “Well, enjoy yourself with that
chocolate, Akechi. You should try pairing it with Kona coffee.”
“I’ll consider it, thank you.”
With a nod goodbye, Goro sets down his cup and exits Leblanc. He tries not to
think about the way his heart pounds, as if it meant anything at all, as if
Akira had intended to give him a gift in the first place. He probably didn’t.
Just relinquished it for his own convenience. And yet…  
… It’s the only realpresent Goro’s ever received from an acquaintance…
Stubbornly, he suffocates the thought. He sulks on his way to the subway and
contemplates the weight of the chocolates in the train, it being settled on his
lap and half-opened as if it would reveal some sort of epiphany.
It doesn’t, and Goro feels no less unsettled than before.
He’s tempted to throw it in the trash. But when he gets home, he unboxes the
chocolate and throws one into his mouth. It sits on his tongue like a poison
tablet.
Fitfully, he eats the chocolate until he feels lightheaded.
 
===============================================================================
 
After that experience, Goro wants to abandon chocolate entirely. He fails,
hard.
Because a couple of visits to Leblanc later, Akira approaches him with a sneaky
grin. “Hey, Akechi.” He holds up a bag filled with sweets. “Got some extra.
Want any?”
No,he doesn’t say. “Sure,” Goro actually says, attempting a smile.
He takes a seat at his usual spot on the bar while Akira takes to brewing
Goro’s coffee. “Feel free to take some from the bag,” Akira says, gesturing to
it. Goro stares scornfully at it before conceding and withdrawing one
chocolate.
It’s white chocolate, and shaped meticulously like a heart. Goro scrunches up
his nose in distaste. “Where did you buy this, if I may ask?”
“Nowhere. Friend got it for me.” He says this without emotion, as if it’s
something to be expected. Goro almost rolls his eyes at the thought. Of course
the Casanova gets all the gifts he wants. As if winning the hearts of the
public isn’t enough.
He swallows down his hate, because he knows with time, Akira will get his dues.
Before he can eat his chocolate, Akira sets down his coffee and, surprisingly,
a matching cup to sit beside it. Goro has no time to question it for Akira hops
onto the seat to Goro’s left and snags some of his own sweets, unwrapping one
and shoving it in his mouth. “Mmm, that’s good.” He hums, chewing generously.
Goro watches him eat it all, unmoving.
“Akechi?” Akira says. “Aren’t you going to eat yours?”
“Wha—oh!” Goro sputters, blushing furiously. You were staring too long, idiot…
 Gathering his bearings, he unwraps his own treat and bites experimentally into
it.
A new kind of sweet fills his mouth, enough to be called cloying. Yet with
Akira sitting beside him and a warm cup of coffee to wash it down, he can kind
of bear it.
“It’s tasty,” Goro comments, simply. He eats the rest of the chocolate knowing
full well that Akira is appraising him. Well, he can appraise all he wants. No
defense of Goro’s is going down so easily, sickeningly-sweet chocolate or not.
“Goes well with the coffee, doesn’t it?”
“Indeed.”
“It’s Colombian. Not your usual blend.”
Goro shakes his head. “But it’s pleasant, nonetheless.”
Seemingly satisfied with that answer, Akira nods and turns away. There is a
silence between them that cannot be characterized as comfortable or awkward.
Simply, there.
It’d be a gamble to try and break it. Goro is used to sitting at the bar and
ignoring Akira whenever he shows up (though, lately, that has proven
fruitless). Yet somehow—somehow, now is different. Now is charged with feelings
of obligation, of instinct.
Feelings that he promptly ignores.
“So, how was that chocolate I gave you?” Akira asks suddenly, taking a sip of
coffee. Goro looks at him, shocked at the jab at conversation, and sighs a bit
in defeat.
“It was good, thank you…” I’d prefer it if you didn’t give me more, though.
“Cool, cool.” Akira drops the topic after that. Goro doesn’t know whether to be
disappointed, or to be relieved. “Anyways, consider it stress relief. You’ve
been looking kinda dead recently, so I thought, hey, nothing that good
chocolate can’t help. Of course, I don’t know what you’re going through… but
I’m glad it worked.”
It’s the most that Akira’s ever said to him at once. Goro finds himself devoid
of any response except a soft, stuttered, “Th—Thank you, Kurusu-kun.”
It’s the right answer, for Akira smiles, big and genuine.
Oh, God,Goro thinks helplessly.
“You’re welcome.” Akira massages his neck. “You seem to really like the
chocolate, so I’ll let you have this one too. No skin off my back or anything.”
“I—what?” Goro stammers, confused.
“The chocolate. You looked happy eating it. Sorry, was I assuming?”
Goro stares at him, slack-jawed and only a little mortified. “N—No… you
weren’t,” he replies, quietly. Did he really look that satisfied eating the
chocolate? It wasn’t even that special. He could’ve bought that anywhere.
His head begins to swim, and he’s not sure whether it’s from the chocolate or
Akira.
“Oh, okay. Then…” Akira trails off, awkward. “Yeah. Take the chocolate.
And—hey, if you ever want, I’ll bring you some more. To go with the coffee.
Free of charge.” He’s speaking in fragments, now, and it would be cute if
everything Akira did wasn’t so annoying. “It’ll be our thing. Chocolate taste
testing? I dunno.”
Jesus Christ.The more he talks, the more Goro wants to slip out of his chair
and onto the floor. Of course, he keeps calm, responding, “Sure. That would be
nice.”
He regrets it the moment it leaves his mouth—but Akira’s smile almost makes it
worth it. Almost.“Cool. We’re chocolate friends, now. Look forward to more.”
With that, he slides out of his stool and rounds the counter, taking his mug
with him.
Goro stares dumbly at the side of Akira’s head. Chocolate friends, huh.
This is on a whole other level of stupid.
 
===============================================================================
 
Since that encounter, Goro distinctly begins avoiding chocolate. He’s not sure
when seeing chocolate meant seeing Akira Kurusu, but it’s all he ever thinks
about now. Akira. Him. Chocolate friends. What the hell arechocolate friends,
anyway?
He looks at the bag of sweets and thinks, He gave that to me. He gave that to
me because he thought it’d make me happy. The thought makes him both giddy and
incredulous. Why? Why would he do that?
He can’t help the thoughts that swarm his head. Is it something hopeful, or
derisive all the same? This confusion is pitiful.
But of course, he doesn’t falter in his mission—Akira Kurusu isn’t just
Chocolate Boyto him. He’s the leader of the Phantom Thieves, the sole reason to
his suffering. It’d be ridiculous to get all buddy-buddy with him, using
chocolate, no less.
But on the contrary, it’s an excellent opportunity to gain his trust. Because
how else can he topple the Phantom Thieves, if not with subterfuge?
He frequents Leblanc telling himself this. It doesn’t help that he ends the day
with pounding migraines and a generous helping of chocolate to boot—a good way
to ensure mental instability before bed. Still, Akira is so kind. Offering him
luxurious sweets…
… Kind. Is that a word to describe Akira Kurusu?
Goro shakes his head, drumming his fingertips on the counter at Leblanc. The
fact that he no longer associates Akira with annoyanceis… alarming, to say the
least.
It might have something to do with his surprisingly clear head. Watching Akira,
now, free of headaches, is a new experience entirely. He is—charming.
Practiced. Like this, Goro can easily examine his target, his messy hair, his
subtle slouch, his full lips. He looks natural in this setting and it takes
Akira’s unsettlingly dark gaze for Goro to snap out of his trance.
“Here you are,” Akira says, sliding him a steaming mug. Goro peers at it and
realizes that it’s not his usual. Rather, it emits a rich aroma that is more
sweet than bitter, a sugary concoction which Akira tops off with a mountain of
whipped cream.
“What is this?” Goro asks, dubious.
Akira grins. “Hot chocolate.”
Goro stares at it harder, as if, by sheer will, it will disappear on the spot.
But Akira nudges it towards him, saying, “My treat,” and Goro acknowledges that
he has little options left. Steeling his nerves, he accepts the mug and takes a
cautious sip.
“… It’s… delicious.” And he means it. He has trouble comprehending the
circumstances, so he takes another sip, smearing whipped cream on his upper
lip.
“Slow down, Akechi.” Akira laughs. “Don’t wanna burn your tongue.” Despite
this, his self-satisfaction is clear in the way his lips slant upward, and he
leans forward, resting his elbows on the counter. “Do you really mean it? That
it tastes good?”
Goro considers his answer, feeling the warmth settle in his stomach. “… I mean
it. There is a quality in it that you cannot find in coffee. Although I am
unsure as to what this could be…”
“Don’t worry, I think I got it.”
Goro nods at this. He starts sipping regularly at the beverage, slowly, so as
to not trigger his usual dizziness; it helps that he can savor it and let the
sweetness wash over his tongue. Moments pass before he realizes that Akira has
his gaze fixed on him, intent on something on his face. Goro tries to dissolve
the blush on his cheeks.
“Wh-What?”
“… Hmm…” Akira leans forward on his palm. Without warning, he reaches into his
apron and pulls out a napkin, rubbing it over Goro’s mouth.
“Mmf—!”
“There.” Akira huffs, pulling away. At Goro’s flustered look, Akira only
smiles. “Sorry. You had whipped cream on your face.”
“And you didn’t think to just tellme?” Goro mutters, completely red now.
Akira shrugs. However, if Goro looks harder, he can see a hint of a smirk on
his face. Self-satisfied jerk.Shaking his head, he casts his gaze aside and
indulges in his hot chocolate.
The mysterious quality of Akira’s hot chocolate… to put it into words—he feels
like he’s floating on a cloud. Not hanging off the edge of a cliff, as with
coffee.
He feels… at home.
 
===============================================================================
 
He finishes the rest of Akira’s white chocolates at home. Reading a book,
drinking instant coffee, watching TV, taking calls from Shido. He returns to
his apartment after shooting Okumura’s shadow and digs into the bag, finding,
shockingly, one more. He feels alive and dead and shoving the chocolate into
his mouth grounds him, in a drunk, stupor-like kind of way—a way that helps him
forget what he’s doing. That he’s not Shido’s…
… He vomits it out, later. Not because it’s chocolate, but because it’s
Akira’s. Akira, who could so easily wipe Goro’s mouth with a napkin. Akira, who
has served chocolate alongside Goro’s coffee for more than a week, now. Akira,
who is so, so blinding.
The dullest boy in Japan—one soon to die by Goro's hands, no less. Who would've
thought he'd steal the heart of a TV-famous detective? It’s so pathetic Goro
wants to laugh. Or cry. Or both.
He makes a quick stop by Leblanc that night. He can’t help it, wants to see
Akira if only to think about how much he hates him and wants him to disappear
already. He wants to stop feeling so unsure about himself. He wants to stop
cramming sugary garbage down his throat for no other reason than he’s
happyAkira gave it to him.
He knows it’s counterintuitive. He pretends he doesn’t. But the fact is
cemented when he finally, finally sees Akira walk through the door and feels
nothing but relieved.
“Oh, Akechi.” Akira offers up a gentle wave in greeting.
Goro has come to the realization that around Akira, his words fail him, so he
merely smiles and nods. He still feels like he’s been put through the shredder,
and it’s not helping that he’s deluged with—guilt? fatigue? irritation with the
Okumura assassination—so he forgoes friendly conversation, focusing only on the
coffee Sojiro had set out for him.
It’s… good coffee. As it always is. And yet, it lacks something Akira’s
doesn’t…
“In the mood for something sweet?” Akira pipes up, occupying the space next to
Goro. Goro stares at him and hopes his eyebags aren’t immediately obvious.
“Depends on what you mean by ‘sweet’, Kurusu-kun.”
Akira smiles impishly, the insinuation not lost on him. However, he digs into
his pockets and tosses a chocolate in Goro’s direction, eliciting a feeble
laugh from Goro.
“That is… You seem to have an endless supply of chocolate, don’t you?”
“What can I say?” Akira unveils his own chocolate. “It accumulates when you
travel as much as I do. Go on, try it. It’s gourmet.”
“‘Gourmet’,” Goro echoes playfully, accepting it nonetheless. Without second
thought, he pushes it past his lips, ignoring the near-instant protest his
stomach gives him as it lurches.
“Good, isn’t it?” is all Akira says. Goro nods.
“Splendid. Thank you for the treat.”
“That’s what friends are for.” Akira grins, evidently excited to use the word.
It makes Goro’s stomach turn with a new kind of nausea. He swallows, stamping
down his urge to throw up, and forces himself to smile convincingly.
“Right, of course.”
He sits in silence with Akira for the next few minutes. There doesn’t need to
be any words, but he wants there to be, wants to escape the suffocating feeling
in his chest.
“… So…”
Akira tilts his head in questioning. Great,Goro thinks, now feeling pressured.
“When you say you travel a lot, do you mean in Japan or in Tokyo itself? I must
say, I’m rather curious given the amount of chocolate you seem to be
gathering.”
Akira looks at him as if he’s about to be let in on a little secret. “To be
honest, I didn’t use to buy this much chocolate. Wasn’t my thing until
recently.”
“Oh?” Goro quirks a brow. “Why is that?”
“That’s a secret.”
He says it in a deadpan, but Goro swears there’s a flirtatious undertone to it.
Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking. “But anyways,” Akira continues, catching
Goro’s attention, “I go around Tokyo a lot. Like a tourist. I have a bunch of
friends kind of scattered around so it gives me a reason to look around and buy
whatever I want. That being, chocolate.”
Goro ignores the pang in his chest upon hearing the word “friends” used for
someone other than him. Still, when could you ever have him to yourself?“It
makes one wonder why chocolate seemed more appealing to you as souvenir,
though,” Goro says, notwithstanding.
Akira smiles, but doesn’t answer. This is probably where the topic ends.
“Do you travel a lot, Akechi?”
Goro blinks in surprise. “Excuse me?”
“Like, do you go around Japan often?”
Goro takes his hand in his chin, pensive. “Hm… When I can. I bike around and
visit popular restaurants, the usual to be expected from a Detective Prince…
though I imagine it’s not as much as you.”
“Ah.” Acknowledgingly, Akira nods. “Well, if you like chocolate so much, I know
a few places you can buy.”
I literally don’t. I literally hate chocolate. I don’t care that it’s good, I
hate it.
“That would be nice, but I’m afraid you’ll have to indulge me later.”
Disappointment flickers in Akira’s eyes, but it’s gone as quick as it came.
“Oh. Right.” He glances at the door, then at Goro. “By the way, it’s almost
closing time.”
“Of course,” Goro says. He stands and bows, more out of habit than necessity.
“Then, I’ll see you later, Kurusu-kun.”
“Yeah. Bye.”
He shoulders his coat and gets ready to leave. However, once he’s laid his tip
on the counter, Akira catches his wrist and blurts, “Um, wait.”
Goro stares at his wrist. Then Akira’s face.
“… Can we—” Akira clears his throat, seeming uncharacteristically nervous. “I
mean,  let’s exchange numbers. I don’t really have any way to contact you, so…”
“Oh—” Goro fumbles for his phone. “Yes, of course—um—”
They exchange numbers. It’s a quick, clumsy affair that has Goro bowing again,
this time more hastily than before. “Right, then, I’ll be going now, Kurusu-
kun.”
“Okay, seeya.”
Goro feels the blush rise on his cheeks, so he turns away before Akira can see
it. Once he’s out the door, he lets his mask drop. He trembles, relishes the
cold on his skin, strokes his thumb over his phone. He’d made a mistake. He
knows he did. Why did he give Akira his number? Now it’ll be harder to ignore
him. Now, by obligation, he hasto see Akira.
There’s little option to distance himself from the Phantom Thief now. But, he
can’t even bring himself to regret it—he feels warm, warm in spite of the
chill.
… Maybe… just this once, he can enjoy himself. Just before the dream must end.
Just before he has to start lying to himself, once again.
After all, he’s hardened himself to loss. It wouldn’t hurt to lose again. It
wouldn’t.
 
===============================================================================
 
After they exchange numbers, Goro starts regularly texting Akira Kurusu. Well,
that’s not quite right—Akira starts texting himand he has no choice but to
respond. Of course, it’s nothing heavy; they greet each other good morning and
talk about their schedules, all the normal pleasantries expected of a
friendship.
Goro wonders what he’s done to deserve that word.
Still, he can’t help the flutter in his chest when he receives a text from
Akira. It’s stupid to get flustered over something so insignificant, but he
can’t remember the last time he received a message about anything otherthan
Shido and his associates, let alone something as commonplace as “How was your
day?”.
It’s nice, though. To have someone to unload all of his frustrations to.
Granted, he doesn’t do it often enough to trigger Akira’s suspicions, but it’s
more than he’s ever allowed.
So today, he visits Leblanc. He sees Wakaba Isshiki’s daughter and his first
instinct is to flee, but Akira is quicker, greeting him with a wave and gesture
to the counter.
“Sit down. I’ll make you your usual coffee.”
Warily, Goro complies. He’s too busy trying to avoid the gaze of one Futaba
Sakura, harsh and penetrative enough to make him want to shrink back into his
seat. By the time Akira serves him his order, Goro is sweating at the nape of
his neck.
“Thank you,” he murmurs, eyes downcast. If Akira notices, he doesn’t say
anything, and Goro couldn’t be any more grateful for their friendship at this
moment.
“No chocolate today, huh?” Goro asks, attempting to pick the mood back up.
This, Akira takes note of, smiling a disarming smile and leaning across the
counter.
“Sorry, but no. Guess you’ll have to come around more often to find out.”
Someone makes a noise, likely Futaba, that communicates their disgust. Akira
breaks into unapologetic laughter and Goro hunches his shoulders, almost
wishing that Akira didhave the chocolate so that they could have avoided that
line.
“Flirt when there’s no one else around, Akira,” Futaba snaps from the corner of
a faraway booth, blushing slightly.
“Sorry, sorry.” He’s clearly not sorry. “If it makes you so uncomfortable, you
can hang out with Morgana upstairs while you wait for me to finish up.”
Happy to take him up on the offer, Futaba leaps out of the booth and retreats
into the attic, casting Goro one last searching look before disappearing
elsewhere. Goro releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding—but the weight
on his chest doesn’t lift. Nor does his brewing headache.
“Has she gotten over her social anxiety?” Goro asks, just to fill the air with
words.
Akira regards him. “… More or less. How did you know about that?”
“Oh—um—” Goro flushes. “She just seemed a little… off-kilter, the moment we
first met. I mean, considering the way she hid behind your shoulder, I assumed
she wasn’t used to being in the presence of strangers, even if it was just
one…”
Akira distractedly massages his neck. “Ah, yeah. That’s Futaba, all right.
Anyways, why don’t you drink some of your coffee now? It’ll get cold.”
“Hm? Ah, yes.” Goro blinks, trying to rid of his flush. With one sip of the
coffee, he is immediately hit with the taste of something syrupy and sweet,
maybe leaning towards caramel or some other sweetener. It isn’t unpleasant, so
he drinks some more, all the while ignoring Akira’s probing eyes from behind
the counter.
“Like the twist? I added caramel,” Akira pipes up, confirming Goro’s
suspicions.
“It’s delicious,” Goro agrees. “I’m debating whether or not I should add it to
my usual order. You have a strange way of knowing my preferences, Kurusu-kun.”
“Ah, what can I say? You’re just so easy to please, Akechi.”
Goro feels himself flinch. Before he can get out a word of protest, Sojiro
appears around the corner, prompting him to keep his silence.
“Oh, you’re here,” Sojiro says. He looks at Goro, then at Akira, before saying,
“Why don’t you serve him a plate of curry? I’m sure he’ll like it.”
“That’s quite alright, Boss—” Goro begins, but is immediately interrupted.
“No, no, consider it thanks. You’ve been quite loyal to this café which
deserves some form of gratitude, and you’ve never even tried the curry.”
Goro's smile twitches. Thanks… for killing Futaba’s mother? For swimming in
guilt and doing nothing about it? Goro almost laughs in his bitterness.
Anyways, Akira is clearly on board with the idea, so he disappears into the
kitchen while Sojiro rounds the counter. “I’ll be closing up, as usual,” Sojiro
tells him at the door. “Feel free to stay longer to finish that coffee. Oh, and
hope you like the curry.”
“Of course. Thank you for that, Boss.”
He gives Goro a curt nod before exiting the establishment. Akira is making
noises inside the kitchen, the clinks of pots and pans being shuffled around,
which echo in the quietness of the café. Goro contemplates watching TV, but he
knows if he does, he’ll likely catch his own face staring back—his empty gaze,
his forced smile, his meaningless words.
He focuses himself on Akira’s work, instead. There are faint sounds coming from
upstairs; that strange, talking cat and Futaba engaged in a heated
conversation. He feels his chest constrict when he remembers what he did to her
mother.
What Shido forced you to do to her mother,some voice at the back of his
mind reminds him, firmly. 
Ha ha, Goro thinks, and he's seething with hate. Like that’ll make a
difference.
Eventually, Akira emerges with the curry, piping hot and probably spicier than
Goro is able to take. Goro flashes what he hopes is a smile, utters out a
“Thank you,” and watches the steam rise from the plate.
“Not gonna eat it yet?” Akira asks, his eyes ever searching.
Instead of answering, Goro stares at the curry, the warmth which emanates from
it. He mutters, “Can I ask you a question?” To which Akira nods, albeit
uncertainly.
Goro smiles. Just a bit, though. “If there is someone in your life who makes
bad decisions because of their circumstances, do you think there is a chance
for them to escape? And if so, would they be forgiven?”
He’s talking about himself, of course. But Akira doesn’t know that. He meets
Goro with a critical eye and says, “It’s possible. But it depends on the
situation. What’s this all of a sudden, Akechi?”
It depends. Obviously.Shaking his head, he takes a sip of his coffee and says,
“Nothing. Just this book I’m reading.”
“Oh yeah? What book?”
“Something definitely not your type, Kurusu-kun. I wouldn’t bother reading it.”
“You underestimate me, Akechi,” Akira teases. “Tell me what book.”
And so they spend the night there, talking idly amongst themselves. It’s too
casual, nothing that Goro should be granted the privilege of experiencing. He’s
got debts to pay and politicians to appease. If he falls short, now, he’ll be
dismissed. If he falls short, now, he’ll be killed. But is it worth stealing
children of their mothers? Killing teenagers sworn to justice?
Teenagers who might possibly be his only chance of a change of heart?
God. He has to doubt himself now,of all times, when he can't afford to falter.
Anyways, he eats the curry, rich and inviting and a far cry from what he is
used to. There’s the fact that Akira made it for him, too, and Akira smiles
when he realizes Goro’s enjoying the food.
“Not bad, right? Sojiro taught it to me.”
Goro swallows it down. “Yes, it’s quite delicious. I can tell that you were the
one who made it, Kurusu-kun. It has that hint of a personal touch to it.”
“Aw, how sweet of you, Detective Prince.” Akira, unexpectedly, blushes at the
compliment. Goro stares hard at him before moving his gaze to the floor.
Afterward, the two fall silent, unsure of how to proceed from there. Goro
checks the time, realizing it to be nearing midnight, and reaches to put on the
coat. Akira, however, stops him.
“Don’t you wanna hang out?” he says, brimming with optimism.
Goro hesitates. “… But Futaba-chan—”
“She won’t mind. If anything, this is good for her practice.”
Goro is ready, reallyready to run. “That’s fine, but I must be—”
“Akechiii.” He says it in that high-pitched, sing-song voice that is good at
breaking Goro’s defenses. He almost gives in—but in that instance, his phone
rings, saving him from a potentially disastrous situation.
Casting an apologetic gaze to Akira, Goro takes out his phone and reads the
name to be Masayoshi Shido. He frowns. Already? So hasty… even with months to
spare.
“I really need to take this,” he says with an air of finality, and Akira’s
frown urges one of his own. “I’ll… text you later. For now, good night, Kurusu-
kun.”
And this time, he does leave. Without a second glance to Akira.
When he gets home, worn out from his trip to the Metaverse, he heads for the
kitchen, opening the fridge and looking for chocolate that isn’t there. He
heaves a sigh. Pulling up his phone, he opens one of his contacts and types in
a message.
I forgot to thank you for the curry and coffee, by the way. 
Also… for listening to me. So thank you.
And good night.
He closes it before Akira can respond. He doesn’t want to see what he has to
say.
 
===============================================================================
 
The next time he drops by Leblanc is later than he would’ve liked. Akira greets
him enthusiastically, saying, “Hey, Akechi, are you free today?”
Besides waiting on my boss to call me for the extermination of his political
rivals, no, I’m completely free.“Free enough to be here,” Goro says instead,
furrowing his brow. “Why?”
“Oh, cool. I was thinking we should go to Shibuya. That is, if you're willing.”
Goro’s brow knits harder. “What’s this all of a sudden, Kurusu-kun?”
“Well, I have nothing to do today and my friends are all busy, so I thought
it’d be the perfect opportunity.”
Goro frowns. Of course. I’m nothing but an afterthought.Pointedly, he clears
his throat, tossing the notion from his head. “What do you have in mind, if I
may ask? Shibuya is a rather large area, and there must be a myriad of things
to do there.”
“Well, us being chocolate friends and all…” Akira sidles up to Goro, causing
the boy to freeze. “They’re doing double chocolate crepes at Central Street
today. So, I was thinking I’d take my favorite chocolate enthusiast there to
eat together.”
Favorite chocolate enthusiast?Goro wants to barf. “I mean,” Goro stammers, a
little flushed, “if that is not too much trouble on you, then sure, I’d be glad
to accept.”
“Dude, I offered.” Akira nudges him playfully in the ribs. Had that been
intentional? Are they close enough to do that yet? “I haven’t had the chance to
try the crepes myself, so this is perfect. Be warned, though. It’s always
crowded there, so we might have to wait a while.”
“Nothing I’m not used to.”
Akira’s lips spread into a cheeky grin. “Good. Then let’s hit it.”
The two take off to the train station, making small talk as they go. Goro wants
to talk about the Phantom Thieves or the Okumura scandals as he usually does,
but Akira isn’t accommodating; it’s almost as if he’s deliberately avoiding the
subject. Though, Goro supposes it isn’t a very appropriate thing to talk about
on an outing like this.
The subway, unfortunately, is very crowded. Goro finds himself pressed up
against the window, with Akira squeezed at his side. And they’re close. So, so
close.
Can Akira hear how his breath grows labored? Can he feel Goro’s blood thrum
through his veins ten times faster?
They arrive at Shibuya without incident. As expected, the line for crepes at
Central Street is long, undoubtedly because of the double chocolate crepe
special. But he underestimated its popularity. The line is longer than anything
Goro has the patience to deal with. Goro wants to whine about it, wants to
avoid a potentially awkward social situation with Akira while waiting in line,
but the only alternative to that would be to—
“Should’ve guessed they’d be popular,” Akira murmurs then, though not
frustratedly. Goro looks at him, studying him in private.
“… Well, I’m not very hungry yet, anyways. We can come back later.”
Akira, too, looks at Goro, though this time in surprise. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” Goro says.
Akira tells him that their best bet for a shorter line is after the lunch rush,
so to wait it out, the pair decide to walk around Central Street and observe
the sights. Their first stop is the bookstore just next to the crepe shop,
where Goro engages Akira in a conversation about their favorite authors (“I
don’t understand Shakespeare,” Akira says, frowning, and Goro tries not to take
it personally). Then it’s a visit to an arcade, where Goro watches Akira shoot
at things.
“You should try it,” Akira says at one point, manhandling a gun into Goro’s
hands.
“Hey—wait a moment—just what do you think you’re doing?”
“Hurry up, the game’s starting.”  
Stifling his irritation, Goro concedes and attempts to focus on the game. He’s
good for a beginner—unsurprising given his familiarity with guns in the
Metaverse—but Akira doesn’t know this, and watches his performance with
barefaced awe.
“How are you so good?” Akira says, ogling at Goro like a little kid.
Goro can’t help the triumphant smirk on his face; he can't help it, the praise
makes him puff up. “Beginner’s luck, I suppose?” The pout on Akira’s face,
then, makes Goro feel significantly less triumphant.
He can feel his head throb with something dull, the beginnings of another
headache. Perhaps he should have refused the arcade when he had the chance.
Later, Akira suggests going to the Underground Mall, but evening hits and Goro
remembers the entire reason they’d come in the first place. “The crepes,” he
urges, earning Akira’s attention. “We should buy some before they close shop.”
“Oh, right.”
Goro practically drags Akira down Central Street, only to find that the line is
ever long. Akira, however, is optimistic. “We can pass the time somehow—how do
word games sound?”
And so, they take to playing shiritori. Goro is well-read and good at keeping
up, but Akira, Akira is quick, and skilled.Better than Goro could have ever
expected from a delinquent.
Though, that isn't saying much for Goro, a bona fide murderer, is it.
Eventually, their conversation derails onto other things. “I’m not a huge fan
of Big Bang Burger, to be honest.”
“Aw, what?” Akira clicks his tongue. “You’re such an adult, Akechi.”
Goro hunches his shoulders, indignant. “Adults eat fast food, Kurusu-kun.”
“Not what I meant.” Akira chuckles, and his gaze slides to the sky in deep
thought. “I mean—like—you are like an adult and all, but I was thinking more
along the lines of… a sophisticatedone. A real Detective Prince, almost.” A
smirk overtakes his features momentarily. “I wonder how you’d do talking to one
of my friends, Akechi.”
“One of your friends?” Goro’s defenses go up, and he clenches his fist, feeling
sulky.
“Yeah. Like my friend Futaba or something. Although I guess you and Yusuke
could get along pretty well, considering you both lack knowledge on popular
culture.”
“Lack knowledge on—excuse me?”
Akira laughs, loud and bright and very quickly doing things to Goro’s
heart.“Sorry, sorry, I could be wrong about that. But I guess the two of us are
doing just fine on that front. Right?”
Slowly, all tension drains from Goro’s shoulders. He drops his gaze to the
floor, where his feet shift anxiously on the pavement. “… Yes, I suppose.”
Akira smiles softly at that. Soon, they arrive at the front of the line, where
Akira orders two crepes as promised (“It’s my treat,” Akira insists when Goro
tries to pay him back, laughing at Goro’s unhappy face). They find a bench
somewhere to eat, sitting a proper distance away from each other (how close is
too close? how far is too far?) and nibbling intermittently at their crepes.
With a crepe to occupy him, Akira is uncomfortably silent; Goro, too, says
little.
“How is it?” Akira eventually asks, not even halfway through his share. Goro,
on the other hand, has eaten a generous amount.
“Quite delectable, thank you. You don’t seem to have a big appetite, though.”
“What? Oh.” Akira chuckles, breathy and a little sheepish. “Yeah, uh, I’m not
huge on crepes. But it’s pretty good, I guess.”
That makes Goro blink twice. “… You don’t like crepes?”
“Not really, no.”
“Then—” He draws his eyebrows together, trying to piece it all together. “Why
would you invite me out to crepes if they’re not your thing?”
“Uh, why else?” Akira looks at him as if he’s grown another head. “I thought
you’d like it if I took you out, so I took you out. Nothing more, nothing
less.”
He’s still having a hard time grasping that concept. It must show on his face,
for Akira’s conveys a kind of disbelief that can’t be caused by mere
wordlessness.
“Goro—” Pinching the bridge of his nose, Akira turns to him, calculative.
“We’re friends. Friends do things for each other. Don’t you do the same for
your friends?”
Goro bites his lip. He doesn’t know how he should answer, but there’s no
beating around the bush here. “I don’t have time for friends.”
And that does it. Akira looks crestfallen and empathetic at the same time. Goro
thinks, Don’t look at me like that, swallowing audibly. Like you actually care.
“You have time for me, though?”
Goro tenses at the statement. “Um—wh—”
Akira looks really, veryserious about this, his lips pressed into a thin line.
Goro makes the mistake of meeting his eyes, and there, he finds himself sinking
deep into dark irises. It’s the closest he’s ever seen them—in all of its
ethereal beauty, there is a hint of something there that probes deep into
Goro’s being. Something knowing.
Before he knows it, his world starts to spin and Goro sways forward, almost
dropping his crepe in his disoriented state. Akira catches him firmly by the
shoulder.
“Goro, are you okay?” he asks, frantic almost. Goro puts a hand to his
forehead, feeling himself sink further and further into a daze.
“I—I’m fine. Just a little dizziness, is all…”
“A little?”Akira gawps. “Look, forget about the crepes, let’s go back. You look
like you need the rest.”
Goro wants to protest, but finds he has no energy for it and merely shakes his
head in response. Trashing his crepe, Akira heaves Goro up and helps him to the
station, where they wait for their next train. Goro, regrettably, forgets to
tell Akira where he lives and they end up taking the train for Yogen-Jaya
instead, the opposite of where Goro should be retiring to rest.
You should really lay off on the chocolate, Goro—lest you want more migraines…
After that, his thoughts become muddled. All he can feel his Akira’s warm and
constant pressure beside him, a warmth that he barely, just barely leans into.
I forgot how it felt to be this close to someone,he thinks, somehow more
lucidly than before.
Several more minutes of fading in and out of consciousness, and the train
screeches to a stop. Akira helps him up, lets him lean on his shoulder all the
way to the Backstreets. At Leblanc, most of Goro’s haze has cleared, but the
train ride coupled with the walk to Leblanc has done little good for his
vertigo—and he finds himself stumbling, even when Akira sets him down in one of
the booths.
“What happened back there?” Akira asks, concern lining his expression.
You happened.“Another migraine,” is all he offers, and Akira visibly grimaces.
“Another?”he repeats, and the stark worry in his tone makes Goro’s stomach
twist. “Take care of yourself, Goro. I don’t want you collapsing in the middle
of work.”
“Goro…”
“What?”
“You called me Goro,” he clarifies, “like earlier today.”
That makes Akira pause. He stands there, as if contemplating, before fiddling
with his fringe in a strange bout of nervousness. “Oh. Right. Is it, um, okay
with you if I… ?”
No would be the right answer to that, but Goro doesn’t find it in himself to
say so. “Sure.” His head lolls, and he rests his cheek in his hand, feigning
composure. “You can call me that.”
“Oh… Nice.” Akira scratches his cheek. “Then, you can call me Akira.”
Akira, he thinks. Akira, Akira, Akira.It feels so light, so free. Goro likes to
play around with it in his head, until any action involving his head becomes
unbearable to perform and he almost slams his face onto the table. In panic, or
concern, or both, Akira plants both hands on Goro’s shoulders.
“Hey, buddy, you’re not looking good. Leblanc isn’t closed yet and we should
relocate upstairs to avoid any weird stares from the customers.”
Blearily, Goro nods, letting Akira pull him up like a doll. It feels like
forever until they’re up the stairs, Goro’s head pounding even harder with the
effort, and once they’re there Akira has taken to removing his coat and
loosening his tie. Goro, shockingly, denies none of it.
“Take off your shoes,” Akira orders him, then. “You can sleep here tonight.”
Immediately, it registers in Goro’s head that this is a bad idea. However, he
doesn’t act on it; he lets his instincts control him, taking off his shoes and
following Akira’s soft instructions.
… Goro doesn’t remember what happens next. Just that he hits something soft, a
blanket is pulled over him, and then he’s out like a light.
 
===============================================================================
 
He wakes to darkness. Groaning lightly, Goro shifts and attempts to stretch his
aching muscles, but something inhibits him and his brows jump to his forehead.
A weight is pressed against his back. And, like a vise, arms trap his middle,
as well as another pair of legs which tangle with his. Hysterically, Goro tries
to recollect the events of yesterday. Shibuya. The arcade. Chocolate crepes,
and—
A migraine. The impending vertigo. Which, of course, explains this.
Still, he never imagined he would end up in Akira’s bedof all places. Feeling
himself heat up at the thought, Goro disentangles himself from Akira and tries
to slip away from bed. The movement rouses Akira in his slumber and Goro
freezes, fearfully.
Please don’t wake up, he thinks, praying to whatever God that’ll listen. Please
don’t wake up. Please don’t wake up. Please—
“Goro… ?”
Oh, fuck.
It doesn’t help that Akira’s groggy voice is all kinds of cute, not to mention,
slightly arousing. Goro swats away the thought. “Good morning, Akira,” he
greets, shutting his eyes tight.
He hears Akira shift from behind him, popping some bones in his back. “Leaving
so soon?” Akira asks, and his disappointment is clear.
Goro hugs himself self-consciously. “Yes. I’m sorry to bother you.”
“… You were screaming in your sleep.”
“What?” Goro gapes at him, disbelieving. Another nightmare? I hardly remember…
“Yes,” Akira whispers, rubbing his arm. “So I left the couch to join you. After
that, you stopped squirming, and you kinda slept peacefully for a while—though
you were whimpering at some point, too, and it was a little difficult to calm
you down…”
God.Goro is embarrassed just listening to him. “Well, I appreciate your
concern, Akira,” he says, just to drop the subject, “but I’m fine now, you see.
I’m used to it.”
That makes Akira look up. Goro wonders if he said the wrong thing. “Used to
it?”
“Y—Yes.” Goro averts his gaze, fingers digging into his skin. “It’s not a big
deal.”
“Migraines, nightmares… Goro, are you alright?”
Parts of his facade crack. Achingly, shamefully, Goro grits his teeth and
begins fastening the buttons to his collar. “It’s none of your concern, Akira.
Now, I must be leaving, so if you would be so kind—”
“No.”
Arms fasten around his waist, and Goro stiffens. He struggles in Akira’s
embrace, twisting, turning, but Akira holds fast and provides no escape route.
“Goro—Goro, listen to me,” he pleads, through Goro’s wriggling, “I want to help
you. Can’t you just let me do that?”
“Why would you want that?” Goro asks, hands prying at Akira’s own now. They
don’t budge. “I’m not worth your time, I’m just a distraction…”
“You’re my friend, Goro.” Akira sounds affronted. “Don’t call yourself that. I
want—I want to be close to you. I want to understand you, and yet you keep
pulling stupid shit like this…”
It’s too much. It’s too much for Goro to handle. With much effort, Goro finally
breaks free of Akira’s grasp, though Akira makes no move to reclaim it. “You
don’t mean that,” he says, chest heaving. “People cling to me when it suits
them, and once I’ve lost worth in their eyes they abandon me. I’m worth
nothing. I’m just a tool.”
Goro clamps a palm over his mouth. Shit. Why did he say that? It startles
Akira; the boy seizes up, eyes wide and melancholy. Goro clenches his teeth.
Now you look suspicious, you dumbass.
So why? Why can’t he help but want to reveal a little bit more?
“Goro, that’s not true,” Akira says. Oh. So he’s still going.
Deciding not to refute him, Goro slides off the bed, grabbing all his clothes.
“Forget it. Your friends don’t even like me, I’ll just cause trouble for all of
you.”
“You’re not,” Akira begins, “trouble.” Goro stares at him, appalled, and Akira
meets his gaze with equal ferocity. “I like having you around, Goro. Even when
you push me away. I like getting to know you and seeing you around, talking
about things that interest you, not just Phantom Thief business and politics.
You’re… special. And no one else sees that.”
“And you do?” Goro asks, trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice.
Akira gazes at him. That same, plaintive look. “More than you’ll probably
accept.”
Goro inhales a shuddering breath, slowly in, and slowly out. There’s tension
thick in the air that sparks between them, for the first time nothing nervous
or uncertain. Expectant, if Goro could apply a word. But also, deeper inside
him, is disgust. Disgust with himself, disgust with Akira. You’re fraternizing
with the enemy. What good’ll that do you?
He’ll have a bullet in his brain in a few months, and you want to convince him
otherwise?
“I’m not—” Goro’s breath hitches sharply. “—I’m not going to argue with you,
Akira. I just need time to think. You’ll let me do that, right?”
“Of course.” Akira nods fervently. “Of course, Goro, anything.”  
“… Thank you.” Goro shrugs on his coat, goes without the tie. Slipping his
shoes on, he bids Akira a quiet farewell, deliberately ignoring the sad
expression sure to be clouding Akira's face. He also makes sure to ignore the
way tears gather in his eyes on the way downstairs, unyielding.
 
===============================================================================
 
The weeks pass in relative quiet. When Goro does visit Leblanc, he makes sure
it’s when Akira is out, surely out spending time with other people better than
him. He runs into Akira, once; it’s a bit after Okumura is shown dying on live
television, a horrific sight for even someone like Goro. “Ah, it’s you,” he
says, startled in more ways than one. “My apologies. I was submerged in my
thoughts and lost track of the time.”
Akira is clearly impatient for Goro to make up his mind about the other day,
but Goro, on the contrary, cannot be patient enough. He makes Akira wait for
his answer and discusses the Phantom Thieves casually, as if it were any normal
day.
Akira, at least, is compliant enough to listen. Their conversation is pleasant
and Goro finds himself not hating Akira by the end of it—they part ways, after
a while.
But though Goro sees Akira and Akira texts him occasionally, it’s never about
Goro’s breakdown in the attic. It’s never about Goro’s day or Goro’s feelings.
It’s things about the weather, or a new book, or a recent event at school.
And it’s never, ever about chocolate.
But he misses it—misses Akira, loathe as he is to admit it. He misses when he
didn’t have to worry about his stupid feelings or Akira’s heartfelt words, when
life between them was just bites of chocolate and playful banter. He misses
when he could be easygoing with Akira and be comfy in his presence, soaking in
the coffee, soaking in the sweetness of his stupid candies.
It's annoying. It's futile to even want him.
If I kill you, will I be happy?
If I kill you, will my suffering cease?
Does it even matter what I want if my hands are tied?
… Eventually, Goro receives news of a festival in Shujin, in which heis to
participate in a sort of conference. It lines up perfectly with his plans to
infiltrate the Phantom Thieves ranks; of course, that means confronting Akira.
No matter. He can be agreeable when he wants to.
That day, thankfully, is a bit further off from today. He sits in Leblanc
drinking Sojiro’s coffee as usual; it’s not as delicate as Akira’s coffee, and
it lights up his nerves, hard. He watches Akira walk through the door
impassively and puts a smile on his face, just for show. “Welcome home.” It
feels weird saying that.
Akira looks at him for a long, awkward while. He seems like he’s debating on
what to say, because once he’s done, what comes out of his mouth is outrageous.
“Honey, I’m home.”
Goro gnashes his teeth and puts that statement way, way behind him. “You’re
back awfully late.” Eager to redirect the conversation, Goro turns to Sojiro in
front of him (who is oddly unaffected by Akira’s weird greeting) and says, “How
has business been for you lately?”
As if Goro hadn’t been sitting here the entire time, observing the room.
Sojiro, too, scoffs at the idea. “Take a look around.”
The two talk briefly about Nijima, which has Goro glad for some kind of
distraction. All the while, Akira stands at the entrance, not offering any of
his own input.
All of a sudden, a voice leaks through the television, familiar and awfully
fake. It’s of his own father—preaching bullshit about justice and false
promises. Goro wants to shatter his cup, but it’d be bad form; instead, he
listens quietly, feigning absorption.
That, of course, is not enough to stop his ire from rising. It dribbles
through, in his words and plastic smile, when speaking to Akira about the
Phantom Thieves. He knows he’s rehearsing lines, honeyed voice spewing
pleasantries and near-compliments that hint slightly at empathy towards the
Phantom Thieves. All part of the plan. All meaningless, all formulaic.
His conversations with Akira, though—those had all been genuine. Bonding over a
nonexistent love for chocolate and pretending to be a normal teenage boy… it
had been nice. Enjoyable, even. Yet Goro had chosen to sacrifice it all at the
altar of his petty vendetta.
Which he acknowledges, now, is petty.
Something must be visible. Some layer, some mask peeled away to reveal his
insecurity. For Akira glimpses him and twists his lip in displeasure.
“Goro,” he says, at once. Goro faces him in shock. “I have something for you.”
Goro lofts a brow. “Really?”
“Yeah. Come upstairs.”
He awaits no answers. He walks, briskly, past Goro, stomping up the stairs in a
hurried fashion. Blinking stupidly, Goro sets his coffee down and glares at the
staircase, contemplating escape. And then, he stands and ascends the stairs.
In the attic, Akira sits on the couch, turning a box over in his hands. Goro’s
throat constricts at the sight. “Sit,” Akira says, gesturing to the spot next
to him. Goro does so, a little too slow.
“What’s this?” Goro asks quietly, afraid his voice will reveal too much emotion
if he doesn’t. Akira eyes him levelly; his gaze is as powerful as ever, as if
by staring alone, he can strip away at Goro’s walls. Part of him wants Akira
to—part of him is desperate for release. The other part of him wants nothing
more but to flee.
“I found this during my visit to Harajuku,” Akira says, finally. Dislodging the
cover, he reaches inside and unearths a small ball of chocolate. Goro squints
incredulously at it.
“… That’s…”
“Try it,” Akira insists, lifting the delicacy to Goro’s lips. Goro flounders.
What the hell am I, a dog?
Hoping his face isn’t too red, Goro reluctantly opens his mouth and lets Akira
slip the chocolate inside. He takes a bite—one, two, three—feels the crunch of
something nutty, soothed by the smoothness of the chocolate. Some of it gets
stuck in his teeth.
“There are nuts in here,” Goro comments, mindlessly. Akira nods, matter-of-
fact.
“They reminded me of you.”
“… What?” Goro faces him slowly. There is a smirk on Akira’s lips, though it’s
lacking in its usual devilishness.
“You can be soft at times, but also, prickly. You’re also sweet, yet, rough
around the edges.” He blushes slightly as he says it, gaze too bashful for
Goro’s liking. “Like the macadamia nuts that get stuck in your teeth, you get
stuck in my mind. And it’s hard to take you out. When I manage to, there’s
still pain that lingers there, and a bitter aftertaste.”
Goro falls silent. He can’t help the mutter that escapes him, then: “That is
rather…  mawkish. I never thought I’d see the day where I’d be compared to
chocolate.”
Akira’s smirk melts into a smile. It’s all sincerity and devotion, and Goro’s
heart hurts;it tightens, and skips several beats. “The truth is,” Akira
continues softly, and oh—when had they drifted so close? “I only… started
buying chocolate because of you.”
Goro’s eyes widen.
“I actually—” Akira laughs in the few inches between them, and Goro can feel
his breath fan over his cheeks. “—couldn’t stop eating anything but chocolate
since that day.”
Goro actually smilesat that. It’s foolish, he knows. But the irony is too good,
and like something shatters within him, he starts bubbling into uncontrollable
laughter.
Akira’s brows disappear beneath his fringe. “Goro, are you okay?”
“Y-Yes—I—” He doubles over, slapping a hand over his mouth trying to stifle his
pathetic laughter.
Akira frowns in his embarrassment. “Look, I get it, it’s stupid.”
“Oh, Akira, you don’t understand…” By now, his mirth has devolved into nothing
but tiny giggles. He looks up, tossing the hair out of his eyes. “I'm the same.
I hate chocolate. But I keep eating it because I… I…”
… Because he what?
Remembering every little thing Akira did for him, Goro realizes, despairingly,
that he had funhumoring Akira with his silly chocolates and city outings. He’d
gotten inevitably ensnared in the web of Akira’s affections and he finds now
that he’s doesn’t mind the pain—doesn’t mind that he’s digging his own goddamn
grave.
He knows this for sure: it can’t last forever. He has a future in store thanks
to his long years of toiling, and Akira… doesn’t fit anywhere in it. It’s
sickening. No, he’s sickening. He wants… no, needs…
Without someone like Akira, he’ll be…
… He barely notices the tears pricking his eyes. It’s only when, in the
thickness of the silence, Akira draws impossibly closer and brushes away a tear
on his cheek, and it hits Goro that he can’t keep this moment in his heart for
long.
So he leans in, nuzzles Akira’s palm. Akira’s eyes go wide with shock and
something else, a layer that Goro fails to comprehend with blurry eyes.
And then he realizes, lonely. That’s what he’ll be without Akira in his life.
Lonely.
Because the truth of the matter is, Goro has no one but him. He has fans and
admirers and a future of fame mapped out for him, but he doesn’t have this,
doesn’t have intimacy.Akira, though, has just that. He has it with Goro and
everyone else he’d put under his spell, just like he had the first night he
offered Goro chocolate.
And that’s the thing. If Goro were to leave right now, Akira could be spared
the burden. It might hurt for a while, but Akira has friends to heal that.
And maybe, just maybe, someone else to take Goro’s place.
The revelation stings. The tears sting, Akira’s touch stings, everything,
everything.
“I c-can’t,” he murmurs, detaching himself from Akira’s hand. Akira watches him
with hurt and confusion and Goro thinks, Please, don’t give me that look.
“What?” Akira begs. “What can’t you do?”
“I can’t do this.” It just tumbles out. Overflows. He had filled his heart
trying to repress his emotions, to the point where now, they burst at the
seams. Goro draws away and rubs furiously at his eyes. “Don’t you get it,
Akira? You don’t need me. I-I’ve never been good for anyone…”
“I don’tget it,” says Akira. “I really don’t. What do you have to hide?”
Goro relents. I couldn’t possibly tell you.It sits at the tip of his tongue,
but never leaves. Still, Goro regains momentum: “It doesn’t matter. You can
forget about me, you’ll—you’ll move on, be happy with someone else—”
Because I can’t, Goro thinks. I can’t know happiness like you.
“What are you saying?” Akira implores. He pitches forward, seizes Goro’s
shoulders. “Stop it. Just stop. Tell me why it’s so important that I distance
myself from you.”
God, I said too much.Goro feels indelibly trapped. He tries to stand up, but
Akira is faster and yanks him back towards him, causing Goro to stumble forward
and just barely miss crashing into Akira himself.
He catches himself on Akira’s shoulder. One knee lands outside of Akira’s
thigh, his other foot still planted firmly on the ground. Any lower and he’d be
on Akira’s lap.
“… Goro…” Akira murmurs, imperceptibly close. The proximity is both alarming
and tantalizing. “Please.”
Goro turns away.
“… You’re right,” Akira admits. “Idon’t know a lot about you. But, I know that
you’re alone, and that no one deserves that. I’ve grown fond of you over these
past few months, Goro… And I want to show you how much I mean that. Please, let
me do at least that.”
Goro shivers, coming apart underneath Akira’s gaze. He feels Akira’s hand on
the small of his back, tugging him downward. Goro, with little strength in his
legs, falls against him. His other hand comes up to rest on Goro’s cheek,
continuing to gently, gently wipe away the tears staining it.
“Is this okay?” Akira whispers. Goro’s breath releases from him in a quiet
shudder. Voices surface in his head.
Don’t listen to him. He’s lying, he’s lying—
Let it be, Goro… let it be.
They clash like a discordant orchestra. It becomes hard to think, hard to see
past the two shadows looming over him, the angry hiss of Loki and gentle
reassurances of Robin Hood. If he bites down harder on his lip he’ll bleed. He
kind of wants it to.
“Why?” Goro asks, because that’s all that he can manage.
Silence passes over them for a moment. And then, “You’re the brightest when
you’re happy, Goro. I like it.”
Slowly—surely—Akira’s hand travels lower, beneath Goro’s jaw. He stares at
Goro, asking. Goro nods. Taking a breath, Akira closes that last centimeter and
presses his lips to his.
Goro’s heart stops altogether. He thinks, and then he thinks no more. Screwing
his eyes shut, Goro surrenders to the feeling and clutches Akira’s shirt. It’s
so good, so sweet and full and right,but there’s a knife driving itself deep
into Goro’s chest, unforgiving. Akira presses closer, chests together, fingers
snarled in Goro’s hair, and Goro splays his hand flat over Akira’s collarbone,
feeling the heat growing there.
He can't resist it. Their kiss is slow, hot, desperate. It reminds Goro of all
the chocolate he shared with Akira, Akira’s touch dizzying against his skin. He
feels lightheaded just breathing in Akira’s scent.
And Goro aches so strongly. As Akira’s hands travel down Goro’s shoulders, his
chest, his waist. A tongue pokes between Goro’s lips and he lets it in, lets
Akira’s taste mingle with his. It’s so unlike anything he has ever
experienced—it’s an overwhelming mix of sensations, his skin alighting in fire
wherever Akira touches. It’s irresistible. And yet, it… hurts.
How could he possibly love you? Loki sneers at him, malicious. He doesn’t know
the true you.
Forget that, says Robin Hood. You can still fix this, Goro. He is your only
chance.
Shut up, Goro thinks. Shut up, shut up, shut up.
The thoughts are quashed when Akira’s lips find his cheek, his nose, his
eyelids. Goro closes his eyes and relishes it. He knows can’t have anything
like this again in his life because he hardly deserves it, doesn’t even deserve
Akira’s gaze.
So how? Goro’s fingers tighten into fists. How can you be so gentle with me?
But still—stubborn as ever—Akira’s eyes lock with his. Half-lidded and dark,
touching the very depths of his soul. Goro makes a soft sound at the bottom of
his throat and Akira pulls away, sucks at his bottom lip before dipping lower.
“A—Akira…” he whispers, as Akira mouths at the hollow of his throat. The hand
in his hair pulls his head back, exposing more of him for Akira to explore.
His tongue is so hot, wanting. It glides wet and slow over his neck, down his
collarbone, where Akira’s fingers fly deftly over his tie and shirt buttons.
Goro gasps at the sudden movement, wondering, hoping—
… Hoping what? That Akira will have his way with poor, lonely Goro?
You’re vulnerable now. Let him in.
The words by themselves are tempting. But then Loki’s cuts in, cruel and
unmerciful: You fool. You’ve put yourself at a disadvantage. What does this boy
have to offer to you? He’s pathetic, he’s nothing, he’ll only get in your way.
Stop it,Goro thinks, but Loki, for all intents and purposes, doesn’t listen.
… You can still kill him like this, he says. He’s off-guard, willing to do
whatever—
“Hey, now.” Akira taps him all of a sudden, and Goro starts. “I can hear you
thinking.”
Goro’s composure crumbles. He’s trembling violently, now, and one hand curls
loosely around Akira’s wrist as if to stop him from going further. But Akira
moves closer, his fingers still dug into Goro’s shirt. “Why are you still
hesitating, Goro? Think of nothing else. Think only of me. It’s just you and I,
here. Just you and I.”
Just him and me.Like sand, Loki and Robin Hood fall apart in front of Goro. And
he can hear his first coherent thought bubbling to the surface:
I… want to be with him.
It's the truth, unveiled. Dark and hideous, but stark in its honesty.
And the truth is, he doesn't care what will become of him later. Right now, he
has something real, nothing faked or pre-planned or manipulated. It's something
he could never have before. Companionship. It's something he can have now.
No matter how transitory.
As he absorbs the thought, he inhales deeply.
“… Akira…” Goro whispers, moving the boy’s hands away. Haltingly, with a deep
breath to calm his shivers, Goro unbuttons his peacoat and peels it away from
his body. Akira watches him do it wordlessly, dark eyes wide with something
akin to hunger.
“Please,” Goro says. “Show me…"
If you really like me. 
That’s all the confirmation Akira needs. He recaptures Goro’s lips in a heated
kiss, sliding his hands down to cup Goro’s ass and lift him up with a huff.
Goro yelps into Akira’s mouth; he can feel Akira, a bit smugly, smile against
his lips. With minor difficulty, Akira hauls him over to the bed, where he lays
Goro flat on his back and crawls over him. The lack of control Goro has over
this situation is, surprisingly, not as unnerving as he thought it’d be.
“Relax,” Akira murmurs, as he begins to slowly unbutton Goro’s shirt. Goro’s
heart pounds just a bit faster. First barrier down.
Eventually, their shirts are left in a discarded heap on the floor, and Akira
uses this as an opportunity to explore everywhere. Goro shudders, drunk on the
feeling of skin-on-skin. Nervousness awakens a new kind of excitement with the
unpredictability of it all; the lengths of which Akira can go with him, the
discoveries they might make yet.
Tenderly, Akira kisses his way down Goro’s chest, leaving a path of sparks in
its wake. He feels Akira’s tongue linger on his stomach, before trailing back
up and mounting on his right nipple.
Goro gasps quietly. He arches up, shivers underneath Akira’s mouth. Akira’s
free hand wanders off, rubbing Goro’s left nipple in slow, delicious circles
that threaten a moan from his lips. It’s more than he can handle; he feels like
a cord about to snap.
“Sensitive here, huh?” Akira teases, unable to hide his satisfaction. Gently,
he scrapes his teeth across the swollen bud, and embers ignite in Goro’s skin.
He laps indulgently at the spot before trailing back down to his navel.
God, Goro’s getting hard already. He clutches the sheets, trying and failing to
muffle the whimpers in his throat. He feels as though his heart may burst from
the varying sensations—Akira’s warm tongue to his insistent fingers and
teasing, teasing hips which grind softly against his thigh.
Then Akira raises himself to Goro’s lips, kissing him feverishly. Where Akira’s
hands rest at his waist, he now lowers them to tug insistently at the hem of
Goro’s pants, taking it upon himself to remove them as quick as possible. Goro
follows suit, unbuttoning Akira’s pants and shoving them down his thighs.
As soon as the offending articles have been tossed onto the floor, the two
reconnect in another wet kiss. The heat of their arousals, stifled only by the
thin barrier of their boxers, continually rub and chafe against each other in
the passion of their exchanges, pulling shaky moans from Goro.
With a clumsy hand, Akira reaches down and presses his palm into Goro’s
erection, kneading and stroking him as proficiently as he can. Which, to a
virgin like Goro, is sadly veryproficient.
Goro can’t help the lewd noises that escape him, and they only seem spur Akira
on. His ministrations grow rougher, heat stirring in Goro’s belly and flooding
his face, pleasure causing his hips to jolt into Akira’s touch. He reaches for
Akira’s head and yanks deliriously at black locks.
“Mmm,” Akira groans, rutting his hips at the sensation. “God, Goro, you’re so
hot.”
The praise goes straight to Goro’s dick. He flushes, throwing his head back
when Akira’s hand creeps into his boxers and smears precome against the head,
and pushes Akira away so that he can peel thoseoff, too. Watching him hungrily,
Akira palms at his own cock, panting heavily.
“Beautiful,” he whispers, as the final, final barrier is stripped from Goro’s
skin. Goro purses his lips to prevent the smile bound to encroach on his face.
“You flatter me.” He mutters it, though its not enough to hide his
embarrassment. Akira smirks and brushes away a stray hair on Goro’s face.
“I mean it. You’re incredible,” he says. He leans in. Carefully nuzzles Goro’s
collarbone. “I’m so lucky to be with you. So, so lucky.”
Goro releases a breathy whimper, curling his fingers once more into Akira’s
hair. He feels a light kiss on his neck, and then on his chest, and soon, it
becomes unbearable for him to even stomach the adoring touches. He lifts Akira
to his face, staring him in the eye.
“Can I…” Akira’s gaze turns curious and Goro looks away. “I—I want to touch
you.”  
A moment. And then Akira’s lips spread into a smile, warm and affectionate.
“Of course.”
Biting his lip, Goro releases Akira’s head and lets one hand wander down his
chest. He’s well-built, surprising for a teenager, but not for a Phantom Thief.
In fact, all he can feel is muscle, muscle, muscle, in Akira’s arms and all
over his torso. He admires the subtle ridges of Akira’s stomach, the dip
leading down to his boxers. Goro shivers, a little nervous just thinking of
what lays beneath there.
“Like what you see?” Akira smirks. It lightens the mood considerably; all of
Goro’s anxieties quiet to a simmer, and are mostly replaced by annoyance as
well as slight amusement.
“B-Be quiet…” The Joker-esque look on Akira’s face irritates, albeit encourages
him, somehow. With no preamble, Goro slides his hand down Akira’s boxers and
wraps his fingers around Akira’s cock, which is hard and leaking at the tip.
Akira moans shamelessly. He’s definitely red in the face now, eyes shut and
lips parted from pleasure. Goro’s heart palpitates against his ribcage, and he
strokes slowly, unsure of how to establish a pace and where, exactly, to be
touching. He’s only masturbated a little bit before, and he obviously hasn’thad
any sex with anyone, but Akira’s responses to him are uncontrolled and probably
signs that he’s doing it right, so he presses on—confidently, without stopping.
“Fuck…” Akira groans, bucking his hips. “Fuck, Goro, you’re so good. Yes, yes…”
  
Goro exhales shakily. His cock is dribbling precome against his stomach, aching
in its hardness and begging to be touched. Yet he persists in his task and
squeezes the base of Akira’s shaft, dragging up, then down, in a steady rhythm.
It does its job. Akira doesn’t care to hide his moans, open and needy like it’s
all he could ever want. And Goro is content enough to stay here—stroking Akira
and watching him writhe, feeling his own hardness grow against his skin. He
renews his efforts, twists his grip, thumbing over the slit and spreading a
slick of precome. Akira’s back arches in response.
“Mmf—ah,that’s it…” he breathes, digging his fingers into Goro’s thighs. “If
you keep going like that, I’ll…”
Eagerly, Goro increases the pace. He hopes to lead him to orgasm, but at the
last second Akira catches his wrist and forces him to stop.
“W—Wait.” He smiles, trembling ever-so-slightly. “I want… I want to try
something with you, Goro."
Tilting his head to the side, Goro watches as Akira pulls himself away
reluctantly and reaches for something inside his desk drawer. Instantly, it
clicks in his mind: lube.A sweat breaks out on his back and he’s not sure if he
should be nervous.
Akira appears to notice, at least. He returns to the bed and brushes Goro’s
fringe back fondly. “Relax,” he says. “It will be uncomfortable at first, but
it’ll feel nice later. I promise I won’t hurt you, Goro.”
You should, he thinks. I deserve it. I deserve worse.
But any and all such self-depreciating thoughts vanish at the click of a cap.
Akira situates himself between Goro’s legs, smothering his finger in lube, and
Goro gulps thickly. As much as his heartbeat thuds against his chest, as much
as his throat clogs with doubt and second-guessing, he’s excited to know that
somehow—however fucked-up the circumstances may be—someone is willing to
explore the most intimate part of him.
And should he be grateful that it’s the boy destined to oppose him? He’s not
sure when destiny started feeling like a curse. Goro has made a lot of mistakes
in life, but none can ever a hold a candle to befriending Akira Kurusu.
The likes of which now stare longingly into his eyes. Goro clears his throat,
hoping his apprehension hasn’t given way to any undesirable expressions.
“Are you ready?” Akira asks, patiently.
Goro licks his lips. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
Sparing no moment of hesitation, Akira places one hand on Goro’s thigh and
spreads them for easy access, situating his other hand near the perineum. Goro
fastens a grip on the blankets, needing to distract himself from the inevitable
invasion.
“You okay?” Akira lays a kiss on Goro’s knee, migrating to his inner thigh.
Goro shudders, heat blooming in every inch Akira bites and sucks.
“Yes.” He closes his eyes, bashful. “Y-You may… proceed now.”
Quietly, Akira chuckles, likely amused with his choice of words. “Of course,
darling.” He nuzzles Goro’s leg, before lowering his index finger and circling
the entrance.
Goro squeaks, his breath coming hot and heavy. The feel of something wet
against his sensitive hole makes him bite his lip, nearly drawing blood.
Delicately, Akira presses in, pushing past the tight opening, and Goro forces
himself to ease it through.
Deep breaths. His pulse hammers loud in his ears. Breathe, breathe, breathe.
Akira begins to move his finger slowly, gently probing at Goro’s walls. The
discomfort is replaced by faint pleasure, a flurry of new sensations and
movements that draw out inaudible mewls from Goro’s throat. He looks at
Akira—looks at the dark swirling in his irises, the hunger lurking there.
Nodding once, he allows the boy to open him further and enter a second finger.
Goro rolls his hips down abruptly. It’s hard not to cry out in satisfaction
when Akira’s fingers start to gradually open him up, scissoring against his
tightness and curling at the tip when they’re in deep. He breathes out,
wriggles his hips, watches Akira try to change the angle.
And Akira—god, Akira is breathtaking. He’s flushed to the tip of his ears,
panting out in the thick of his arousal, roving his eyes hotly over Goro’s
body. Goro’s cock twitches at the sight of him, and then Akira adds a third
finger and he’s gone.
“A—Akira—” he whimpers, breaking out into a full-blown moan when the pads of
Akira’s fingers brush up against something tender. It’s like his body melts
into pleasant static, bursting into noise when the pressure on that spot grows
and grows, and Goro bucks his hips, arching his back off of the sheets. Akira
watches him with barefaced desire. Almost automatically, he thrusts his fingers
in that same angle, tongue darting out to wet his lips.  
“You’re doing so well, Goro,” he praises, voice distant. “Such a good boy…
God…”
“Akira,” Goro whines, his face heating up at the words. “Please… more…”
Akira is fain to comply. He begins to thrust in earnest, twisting his fingers
and brushing them against his prostate. Goro moans loudly; the feeling is too
much, bleeding into his conscience and robbing him of conscious thought.
However, as tension builds up in Goro’s gut, Akira removes his fingers abruptly
and Goro yelps at the loss.
“Wh-Wha… ?” He blinks, dazed and feeling so, so empty. “Akira, why…”
“Shh.” Pressing his lips to Goro’s, Akira kisses him softly like that for a
second before parting and retrieving an item off the side of the bed. As he
tears the wrapper open, he procures a condom from inside and rolls it over his
cock, Goro's own stirring at the sight.
The lube is still at the foot of the bed, so Goro sits up and reaches for it
while Akira is distracted, inching nearer.
“Goro?”
“Here,” he mumbles, pouring a good bit of lube into his palm before slathering
it over Akira’s dick. Akira hums, caressing Goro’s locks and stealing a warm
kiss from him.
“Mm, that’s good…” With a mischievous smile, Akira lightly pushes Goro down and
hovers over him. His hands pin Goro to the sheets; Akira’s eyes sparkle in the
light of the attic. A flush runs over Goro’s cheeks, unbidden.
“… Akira…” He cuts himself off, unable to maintain eye contact with him for
much longer. However, a hand skates over his jaw, landing on his chin and
turning it forward. Akira gazes at him with startling tenderness. Goro could
just cry.
“Hey,” Akira says, softly. There’s a smile on his lips that makes Goro numb, a
persistent ache in his chest that feels like he’s bleeding. But the hurt is
secondary to the way his heart floats in ecstasy and gratification—an emotion
that screams at the top of its lungs, I’m alive. I’m free.
Which is weird, given Akira has him caged on all sides.
Lovingly, Akira nips up his neck, biting his earlobe and rolling it between his
teeth. Goro shivers, bucks his hips up greedily.
With a long kiss to Goro’s temples, Akira places his hands on Goro’s calves and
lifts them over his shoulders. He shifts forward, the tip pressing against
Goro’s entrance, and Goro’s heart beats out of his chest, threatening to burst
entirely. But Akira rubs his nose against Goro’s hair and inhales, and Goro is
suddenly soothed, his own breaths shallowing in relative calm.
Breathe.
You’re alive.
You’re free.
When Akira pushes in slowly, a harsh cry is ripped from Goro’s throat. The
sudden invasion is a whole new sensation; pain mixed with pleasure. The head
slides in fairly easily, followed by the shaft and a low groan from Akira’s
lips. The moment he is fully sheathed in Goro’s ass, he sits there and presses
kisses to Goro’s temple, silencing the pathetic whimpers that escape Goro’s
mouth.
Goro feels tight and impossibly full, as if he could come apart just on Akira’s
cock. The feeling is intensified as Akira starts to move, sliding slowly in and
out.
“Ahh—” Goro keens and lifts his hips slightly. Purring his satisfaction, Akira
meets this with a shallow thrust, careful not to push too hard despite his
clear desire to.
He’s so big.It’s weird and a little uncomfortable, admittedly. But knowing that
Akira is inside of him—feeling him breach his depths, attain a proximity that
Goro has never maintained with anyone—just that knowledge is enough to send him
over the edge.
“Goro,” Akira murmurs, low, into his ear. “Fuck,you’re so tight…”
Goro whines under his breath. As Akira buries his cock deeper inside of him,
the pain evaporates into an indistinct ache, heat flooding his stomach and
coiling there, molten and pleasant and so right. Each thrust is punctuated by a
throaty moan, each second filled with ragged breathing.
Goro presses his heels into Akira’s back and pulls him closer. “More…” he
whispers, almost a beg. “Haah, Akira—”
“Shit,” Akira curses, increasing his pace. “I love it when you moan, Goro.
You’re so beautiful. So fucking hot. I want you to keep making those noises for
me—”
He rolls his hips in one particularly deep thrust, and Goro cries out,
overloaded with pleasure. The tip of his cock just barely brushes Goro’s
prostate, far enough for it to be teasing. Goro rolls his hips down forcefully,
desperately.
“Please, please, please—”
Akira huffs. “Please what?”
“Please, I…” Goro bites down, hard, on his lip. “I need it, I need you—”
Akira growls into his ear, snapping his hips forward. It hits that spot again;
Goro screams, raking his nails down Akira’s back.
“Ah… ah… m-more…”
“Fuck, Goro—”
They continue like that, Akira pounding into Goro with harsh and unrelenting
thrusts. Goro can’t hold it in, the breathy cries and whimpers that tumble out
in a staccato rhythm. Akira’s presses their chests flush together. Digs deeper
into Goro with a sweet moan. His breath is hot and heavy in Goro’s ear,
murmuring praises in a voice that's sultry, like melted chocolate.
A few more thrusts, and Goro’s belly goes tight with a surge of pleasure. He
throws his head back, finds Akira’s black curls and yanks desperately at it.
“Akira, god,please—”
“Tell me what you need,” Akira rasps, thrusting once, moaning shakily.
“I—ah,” he gasps, bucking his hips. “Please, touch me, anything—”
Akira grips Goro’s erection and pumps him roughly. Goro sobs, eyes rolling to
the back of his head, and he’s close, so, so,close—
“I-I’m gonna…”
“Come for me, Goro.”
The cord in his gut snaps, and heat unravels in Goro’s groin, come spurting out
heavily into Akira’s hand.
He shudders, sinks into the sheets with a blissed-out sigh. Akira is still
moving inside of him, overwhelming his nerves into the point of numbness, and
then Akira thrusts forward brokenly, his mouth opening in a silent moan as he
comes.
He falls forward, resting his forehead against Goro’s chest. They lay there in
silence for a couple of beats. Akira pulls out, Goro gasping at the sensation
of emptiness that follows, and Akira drags himself off to get rid of the
condom, leaving the bed to Goro.
And then—the full weight of what Goro had just done bears down on him suddenly.
You just slept with Akira.
The boy you were fated to destroy.  
It’s as good a mood-killer as any. Without warning, tears start to gather at
the corner of his eyes. So that's it, then.
Another mistake. Another delusion. Another attempt to chase that which he
cannot have by default.
He’s going to lose Akira, the only person who could ever understand what a
sorry life Goro was forced to live, and this time, it’s going to hurt. There’s
no penitence for such a blunder—no way to turn back time, to make up for what
he had done.
For what he’s about to do.
For now, he lays quietly in Akira’s bed, feels Akira’s warmth return to his
side. It’s no longer comforting, more like a wildfire spreading, and the way
his heart pounds does not make him giddy with joy. He feels trapped. Anxious.
Akira leans down, kisses Goro's forehead. Goro freezes up. 
"Are you okay?" Akira coos, idly brushing his hair.
To this, Goro hesitates. He knows, after all, that he is bound for certain
tragedy—a choice that will end with one of them dying. But Goro can waste
another second feeling alive, for one moment. Before it all comes crashing
down. Before he’s forced to face the sins he has committed.
Before he’ll have to lose again.
"Yes," Goro whispers, clasping Akira's hand. "Stay with me."
Akira smiles affectionately. He burrows underneath the blanket, pressing up
against Goro's back. “Good?” Akira hums, wrapping his arms around Goro’s waist.
Goro breathes. Sucks in his tears. “Never better.”  
What a goddamn lie.
End Notes
     me, forgetting akira wears glasses for a majority of the fic: oh,
     FUCK
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