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It all begins with a stupid bet, one that’s made during a nondescript lunch period that starts as normally as any other.
The sunlight is streaming through the classroom windows, giving the room a warm afternoon glow. The other students in his class talk and laugh among themselves from whatever corner of the room they’ve chosen to occupy, but Akira hardly pays them any mind. No, the entirety of his attention is on the boy sitting across from him, his chair turned around to share Akira’s small desk that holds the chessboard setup between them.
Capturing another one of Akira’s pawns, Goro smirks. “Getting nervous, Kurusu?”
“Nope,” Akira says, flashing him a smug grin as he casually spins a pen in his right hand. He knows several different moves Goro can make, and all will eventually lead to Akira’s victory. It’s only a matter of time now.
Goro leans forward, his eyes glimmering under the fluorescent school lighting. They’re the most stunning shade of maroon, and Akira’s heart helplessly flutters, the same way it always does whenever Goro leans in close.
“Confidant, are you?”
“I think I have a reason to be,” Akira answers.
Glancing down at the board, a small frown graces Goro’s features. It’s his move and Akira wonders if he sees it yet, if he knows how close he is to losing a second game in a row. The first loss had been only last night, late enough that Akira’s victory had come with an immediate demand for a rematch tomorrow. And so, here they are, both skipping lunch in favor of rushing through a game as quickly they could in only a little over thirty minutes.
Goro hums in thought, just loud enough for Akira to hear. When he moves to rest his chin on his hand, his elbow bumps one of his previously captured pieces, sending the pawn rolling towards Akira’s feet on the floor.
“Oh, would you mind getting that?” Goro asks, although it’s rather unnecessary since Akira is already moving to pick it up anyway. Once he has the piece in hand, Akira straightens….and finds that the pieces on the chessboard aren’t quite in the same arrangement as they’d been in before.
Akira raises a brow at Goro who smiles back innocently.
“You’re such a cheater,” Akira says, watching as Goro’s smile turns even more saccharine sweet at the words.
“At least I don’t eat the pieces when I’m losing.”
It’s a low blow.
It happened one time, and Akira had only put the chess piece in his mouth as a joke! He hadn’t been expecting Morgana to jump at him out of nowhere, startling him so bad the piece ended up lodged somewhere in his airway. It’d only taken a few heaving coughs to finally dislodge it, ‘like a cat coughing up a hairball’ Goro had later claimed, but still—
“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you? I almost died.”
“You didn’t,” Goro says, crossing his arms, smug. Asshole.
“You didn’t even even call for help,” Akira pouts. “You just laughed over my poor defenseless body while I choked.”
In a repeat performance, Goro laughs once again, hiding a smile behind his hand. Any trace of his prior sulk instantly drains out of Akira as he fondly watches Goro, incapable of looking away. Maybe it’s wrong of him to think his best friend’s beautiful, but Akira’s sure that anyone with eyes would think the same. His features are delicate, his eyes always so focused and intent, and he paints the perfect picture of androgynous grace. Recently, Goro’s been almost exclusively wearing his hair up in a ponytail, but today he’s left it down, the caramel strands brushing softly against his shoulders. It’s longer than usual, Akira thinks, which only leads him to daydreaming about running his fingers through the strands.
“I believe we’re attracting an audience,” Goro says, looking absolutely radiant with barely-concealed mirth still brightening his eyes.
Surely enough, Akira can feel the weight of people’s stares, but it’s not like that’s anything new. People talked ever since the day Akira started at Shujin as a first year and immediately made it known that he and ‘the unapproachable golden boy’, Akechi Goro, were attached at the hip. Thick as thieves—their bond as unbreakable as it’d been when Akira first transferred to Tokyo and met his best friend at the ripe age of ten.
And so, Akira leans over the desk, whispers; “I think that’s just Ryuji.”
They both turn to look at Ryuji who’s been watching them play with his brow scrunched up in confusion. Goro snorts.
“You two are seriously playing chess during lunch?” Ryuji says now that he’s garnered their attention, looking between both of them in clear exasperation. “You’re gonna make us look like total nerds.”
“You’re the one who hangs out with Mishima by choice,” Akira tells him.
“He’s got a point, you know. Right, Akechi?” Ann looks towards Goro in an obvious attempt to include him in the conversation. A little clumsy, but Akira appreciates her for trying.
Akira knows that Goro has insulted Mishima no less than a hundred times in regular conversation. Goro’s harbored a personal vendetta against him ever since the day that sci-fi movie had come out, Cowboys in Space, and Goro had dragged Akira to the theater to see it. Of course, Mishima had decided to throw a wrench in their plans when he caught them at the theater, and subsequently decided to stick to Akira’s side like one of the movie’s parasitic aliens. Which of course, had resulted in Goro pouting the entire time and likely internally swearing vengeance on Mishima and his entire family.
Goro’s lips part as if to say something, only for his mouth to close into a fine line, his attention falling onto the chessboard. “I suppose so,” he says politely, and Akira barely represses a sigh.
Under normal circumstances, Akira would say Goro’s getting along with his friend group pretty well. Reserved, distant, and a little awkward, but he’s trying. That’s more than Akira ever could have asked for from his eternally prickly best friend.
Meanwhile, Akira’s friends are the opposite of judgmental, entirely willing to accept Goro into their friend group with open arms. The problem came in the form of Goro’s own hesitance to connect with people. If it weren’t for Akira, he’s pretty sure Goro wouldn’t really have anyone. And although a certain dark part of Akira likes having Goro all to himself, he can’t help but long for the day that his other friends get to see how amazing Akechi Goro can really be.
“Oh, Akechi!” Ann suddenly says, startling him from his thoughts. “Your hair is getting so long—“
The world falls into slow-motion, and Akira watches in horror as Goro spins around, catching Ann’s wrist before she can touch his hair. “Don’t,” he says.
If Akira thought he felt eyes on them before, it’s nothing compared to the overwhelming sensation of being the center of attention he feels now. Conversation seems to halt, silence reigns, and at the center of all of it is Akechi Goro sitting there with Ann’s wrist held in a white knuckled grip.
Well, shit.
“Dude let go of her!” Ryuji snaps, the first to break the deafening silence.
Goro immediately releases her wrist as if he’d been burned, mortification clear on his face. Meanwhile Ann, always the best of them, makes an effort to laugh it off. It’s a valiant attempt, but she takes a step away with each utterance of awkward laughter, her smile forced as she offers an “Oh sorry,” in a way that only speaks to how caught off guard she is. Akira doesn’t really blame her, before now she’s only ever known the ‘polite yet distant Student Council Vice President’ side of Goro. But Akira knows that she’ll bounce back soon enough, Ann never lets things like this get to her for long.
On the other hand….
Turning his attention to Goro, Akira finds him looking as if he’s about to flee the scene. Always polite and charming, Goro could fake a smile and lie out of his ass until he got out of nearly anything….except he looks too shaken to do so for a reason Akira doesn’t quite understand.
Something’s wrong.
Taking that as his cue to step in, Akira springs into action.
“Come on, honey,” he says standing and ushering Goro out of his seat. “Let’s go make-out in the janitor’s closet.”
“Man! I’m trying to eat here!’ Ryuji predictably bemoans, echoed by a few snickers. But at the very least, it appears to break the tension.
Goro sputters, his face flushing adorably red, but he ultimately allows himself to be dragged out into the hallway without complaint. Clearly he’s more than glad to have any excuse to vacate the premises.
“You know, one of these days they're actually going to believe you,” Goro says, turning to face him once they’re safely outside the classroom.
Akira grins. “Want to make it so I’m not a liar?”
When Goro playfully shoves him, Akira winces at what he’s sure is going to be a hand-shaped bruise on his chest. Goro never did recognize his own strength.
“Don’t test your luck,” he says with a roll of his eyes. And yet, Akira sees the way that he relaxes, the tension draining from his shoulders now that they’re alone out here, away from everyone else.
For a moment, Akira considers forgetting about what just happened in favor of continuing to tease him. He thinks about returning to their normal repertoire and pretending that the entire incident never happened. It’s not as if Goro’s going to want to talk about it anyway. Would it really be so bad? Continuing to keep Goro all to himself, saying that he tried to insert him into his friend group, but it just didn’t work out. It’d be so easy, and he knows it’s exactly what Goro wants…which is why Akira can’t go along with it.
They were best friends, rivals since they were kids, if he didn’t push Goro out of his comfort zone then who else would?
“Come on,” he says. “Let's go somewhere more private.”
Akira leads Goro over to a very specific door a little down the hall, hearing Goro make a slightly choked noise when Akira stops directly in front of it.
“The janitor’s closet!? Honestly?!” he hisses as Akira swings open the door, holding it open for him like a perfect gentleman.
“I want to talk to you and this is the most private spot I can think of.”
“You want to talk,” Goro echoes dryly.
“It’s important I promise you,” Akira says, putting a hand on his back in an attempt to usher him inside. It doesn’t work very well, Goro always makes a really good unmovable boulder when he wants to, but after a moment he sighs and steps into the closet on his own terms.
“Fine.”
Feeling victorious, Akira steps inside after him, shutting the door and leaving them in complete darkness.
“See, isn’t this nice and cozy?” Akira, the king of optimism says as he feels around for a light switch. It is incredibly dark, so dark that Goro probably wouldn’t even notice if…
“Akira, I can’t see anything—” A strangled sound suddenly cuts off the rest of Goro’s sentence.
Oops.
“Did you just touch my ass?!”
“I’m looking for a light switch!”
“Down there?”
“Would it make you feel better if I said it was my knee?”
“Akira.”
“Oh hey, I think I found it.”
Immediately the janitor’s closet is filled with fluorescent light, and Akira meets Goro’s glare with a sheepish smile.
“I do hope you’re aware that if anyone noticed us walk in here together, they’re going to talk,” Goro says, crossing his arms.
“Does that bother you?” Akira asks, inspecting him closely. Beneath his scrutiny, Goro almost instantly deflates, and he averts his eyes.
“...You know it doesn’t.”
He’s right of course, Akira does know, although the confirmation never fails to make that familiar warmth settle in his stomach. Goro has always been someone who cared far too much about his reputation and how others perceived him, even if he sometimes pretended he didn’t. It came with the territory of growing up as an orphan in Tokyo, Goro always felt as if he needed to prove something to people, even when he recognized that none of them were worth his time.
And yet…Akira had always been the exception. No matter how people looked at Akira, or what people said about the two of them, Akira believed Goro when he said it didn’t bother him. It’s something that means more to Akira than he’s ever been able to put into words. Not that he’s ever been particularly good with words anyway, he’s always been a man of action… which is how he finds himself intrinsically aware of how close they are. The janitor’s closet doesn’t leave much room for personal space. It makes it so, if Akira were to take a single step forward, he could press Goro flush against him. More than that…he could lean in and finally know what his lips felt like when they were pressed against his own.
Focus, Akira. Focus.
Akira slips his hands in his pockets, determined to be on his best behavior. “So, are you going to tell me what that thing with Ann was about?”
Judging by the way he instantly stiffens, it seems like Goro really doesn’t want to answer. Akira’s half-expecting him to blow him off and say it was nothing, or alternatively; bull rush the door faster than Akira can stop him. But neither of those things happen, and after a moment, he sighs.
“I don’t like my hair being touched.”
Akira blinks.
That’s certainly news to him. There’s something heavy in the way Goro says it, the words weighted with some meaning that Akira can’t even begin to understand. Clearly this is something much more than Goro expressing concern over someone ruining the results of his dedicated hair and make-up routine.
“It never seems to bother you when I touch it..”
“...I don’t mind when it’s you,” Goro admits, voice quiet.
Oh.
He says it so easily, as if it’s something that should have been assumed from the start. They’re best friends, so maybe it should have been obvious that Akira would be the exception…and yet, there’s a barely distinguishable dusting of pink across Goro’s cheeks and Akira understands the vulnerability for what it is. He’s long understood that Goro’s trust is something hard earned and very rarely given to anyone.
Maybe it’s due to the privilege he now knows he’s been granted, but Akira suddenly aches to touch Goro’s hair like it’s a physical need. I’m the only one who can, he thinks to himself, and that thought makes fire instantly alight in his stomach, something dark and pleased bubbling up to the surface. He lifts a hand up as if to touch, hesitates, and then swallows thickly.
“Can I?”
Goro stiffens, glancing between Akira’s face and his half-raised hand with an indistinguishable expression. “I don’t see the point, but go ahead,” he relents after a moment, avoiding his eyes.
The moment his fingers touch his hair, Goro releases a shaky breath, his entire body tense as he stands there completely motionless, as if he’s afraid to move. Akira runs his fingers through his hair in the same way he’d been daydreaming about only ten minutes prior. It might not be the first time he’s touched Goro’s hair, but his touch has never lingered like this before–-at least not since they were kids. For the first time, he allows his fingers to bury deep within the strands, his nails lightly scratching against his scalp. Goro’s eyes slip shut, relaxing under his touch with a low hum.
Knowing that he’s probably taking advantage of the opportunity he’s been given, Akira forces himself to retract his hand, taking just a moment longer to tuck Goro’s hair behind his ears. Pushing it back so it frames his face, he finds maroon eyes now watching him intently. Warmth seeps into his skin at the undivided attention, and Akira grows a little braver—delicately gathering up Goro’s hair and draping it over his shoulder. It’s still a bit too short for all of his hair to stay for long, but the visual is there nonetheless. Goro’s always been pretty, but sometimes Akira still finds himself stunned by how beautiful he really is.
“Your hair does look pretty when it’s long,” Akira says as he takes a step back, his skin buzzing and the air thick with an undefinable tension. “You should grow it out more.”
“It’s already too long,” Goro scoffs. “I should have cut it by now; however, I haven’t had the time or patience.”
Akira’s quick to connect the dots.
“You cut your own hair?”
Goro averts his eyes. “It’s like I said, I don’t like anyone touching it.”
“Except for me.”
“You’re going to be insufferable about this, aren’t you?” Goro says, shooting him a look.
“Who, me?” Akira grins and expertly dodges Goro’s fist flying toward his shoulder. Still, despite the teasing, Akira knows there’s more that Goro’s not saying. Forcing himself to be serious for a moment, Akira asks; “Why don’t you like it long?”
Like clouds overcasting the sun, Goro’s eyes immediately go distant. Akira knows that look. It’s the same one he always gets whenever he talks about his mother, or…anything from the time before he met Akira.
“One of the caretakers at the orphanage thought it made me look like a girl,” Goro says, his voice flat. Toneless. “She grabbed me by the hair one day, cut it off with a pair of scissors out of a sewing kit. I was devastated.” His lip quirks into a humorless grin. “My mother always loved my hair. I remember one time she said it made me look like her…moments before she broke down and cried.”
Akira feels his heart plummet. He knows Goro had a rough childhood, to say the least. Walking home from school one day to find his mother in a bathtub filled with blood, only to then be tossed into a shitty orphanage before even worse foster homes…it was impossible for him not to still carry some of that with him. Even after Akira met him, he’d been suffering through foster homes up until the day he became old enough to obtain his meager inheritance, and then used that in addition to several part time jobs to afford renting a small apartment for himself. Still, even now there are times Goro will call him late at night, or will come knocking on his bedroom window when he doesn’t want to be alone.
Throat suddenly feeling far too tight, Akira swallows.
“You never told me this.”
“It never seemed relevant,” Goro says with a bitter smile.
Akira doesn’t really know what to say to that.
“You know,” Akira says after a moment, “I’d think you’d want to leave your hair long after something like that. You said your mother liked it.”
Goro grimaces. “The longer it is, the more likely people are to try to touch it, accidentally or otherwise. You saw how well that went.”
“What if I make sure no one does?” Akira teases in an attempt to lighten the mood, and it seems to work well enough. Life returns to Goro’s cheeks and he raises a brow at him, amusement coloring his expression.
“You’re going to guard my hair?”
“Don’t think I’m up to the task?”
Goro’s lips pull into a smirk. “Do you intend to bark at anyone who gets close? Or perhaps you’ll follow me around so you can growl at people as they pass, like a loyal dog.”
“I could,” Akira shrugs, to which Goro laughs and shakes his head.
“You’re ridiculous.”
And yet, despite his words, he has that look on his face, and Akira knows exactly what it means.
“You’re thinking about it,” he says with a knowing grin, and Goro’s eyes narrow.
“I am not.”
“Are too.”
“Am not.”
“Are too~”
“I’m not doing this,” Goro says, shouldering him aside to reach for the door handle—
“Let’s make a bet.”
He freezes.
“…What kind of bet?”
If there’s one thing Akira knows about Akechi Goro, it’s that he can never say no to a challenge. Maybe Akira’s playing a little dirty, but there’s suddenly an idea in his head that he’s incapable of ignoring. Him and Goro have always pushed each other to be better, and although his desire is inherently selfish, Goro obviously wants this too. He’s just afraid.
And so, Akira says;
“We play billiards tonight. If I win, you grow your hair out.”
“...For how long?”
Akira pauses. Honestly, he’s not really sure how fast hair is supposed to grow. He gets his own cut about once a year, and his curly mess always tends to get thicker and more untamed, not necessarily longer. Goro is giving him a chance here, possibly the only one he’ll ever get, he doesn’t want to throw it away by having Goro’s hair look virtually the same by the end of it.
“Six months?” Akira tries.
“Four,” Goro immediately counters. Then, a bit more quietly he adds; “My hair grows fast.”
Akira gives him a smile, small yet fond. “Alright.”
“And if I win?” Goro asks.
After thinking for a moment, Akira decides on a prize that’s part victory for him too in its own way.
“I’ll cut your hair anytime you ask me to. For the rest of my life.”
Goro frowns. “Do you even know how to cut hair?”
“I have very dexterous fingers and a fine-eye for detail,” he says and then grins. “Don’t you trust me?”
For a second, Goro doesn’t say anything in favor of eyeing him with heavy skepticism. It’s as if he’s trying to judge if Akira’s being honest, or if this is part of some elaborate joke that will end with him having hair of several conflicting lengths at the end. While Akira might have earned Goro’s trust when it comes to matters of the heart, being trusted with Goro’s perfect appearance is another thing entirely. It’s no secret that Goro has extremely high standards, so Akira is fully expecting him to back out and ask for another prize.
“Fine,” Goro agrees a moment later, to Akira’s immense surprise. It makes something warm and fluttery settle in his chest, an emotion that goes beyond simple affection and buries itself deep within his soul. It’s strange, but sometimes Akira really does think that Akechi Goro is his other half, the only one who could ever have such a hold on his heart.
“Akira?” Goro says, and it’s only then that Akira realizes he’s been staring. Clearly the janitor's closet fumes are starting to get to him, or maybe it’s just Goro’s familiar scent that he catches in the air every so often when they’re standing this close in proximity. It reminds him of late nights hidden under blanket forts, or laying in bed together long before Akira ever knew the difference between romantic and platonic love.
Would it really be so bad if he just—
The bell rings, startling them both apart.
Normally Akira wouldn’t really care much about getting to his next class on time, it seemed like a waste of effort when the faculty was likely just to mark him as a lazy delinquent anyway. And it’s not as if his parents cared, he’s pretty sure they’re the ones who told the school ahead of time to ‘keep an extra close eye on him’. He knows how they are.
Unfortunately, Mr. Ushimaru threatened to call his parents if he continued to ‘be a bad influence on the other students,’ whatever that was supposed to mean. Akira’s parents might not care about his grades, but he doesn’t even want to know what their overreaction would entail if they were forced to make room in their busy schedules for a parent-teacher meeting.
Of course, Akira doesn’t really feel like getting into all that right now.
“We should probably get to class,” he says simply instead.
Without moving an inch, Goro eyes him critically, obviously sensing something is wrong. He always did know him far too well.
“Are people opening their fucking mouths about you again?”
“Down boy,” Akira says, teasing but fond. “It’s not that serious.”
“Akira.” Crossing his arms, Goro gets that look in his eye, the one that always sends a thrill coursing through Akira’s bloodstream. There’s danger there, a fire that threatens to burn down the world if left uncontrolled. It’s a beautiful look on him, so much so that Akira misses it a little when Goro deflates a moment later, his gaze softening. “I’m on the student council,” he says. “I wish you would let me help.”
It’s not exactly a new argument between them, and while Akira appreciates him for caring, his answer never changes. Some things are just meant to stay the way they are.
“You and I both know there’s nothing you can really do.” Akira shrugs and offers a sardonic smile. “Just as long as you don’t mind being associated with the no good delinquent. In fact, I’m pretty sure I overheard a plan to rescue you from my bad influence the other day.”
Goro snorts. “You know I don’t give a shit what they think. If they only got to know you—”
Akira catches his hand, coaxing him to unclench his fist before he can dig crescent shaped marks into his hand again.
“Hey, none of that,” he says, trying his best to ignore the electricity buzzing across the places their skin touches, and releases his hand a second later. When he meets Goro’s eyes, they’re focused and intent, a question on his face that Akira doesn’t have an answer for. “I’ll see you after school?” he asks, smiling weakly.
But Goro shakes his head with a small grimace. “I have a student council meeting.”
“Tonight then?”
He gives a slight nod in affirmation, but his eyes are still just as intense. “We’re not done talking about this, Akira.”
Right, because Goro cares about him, even if he has his own special way of showing it. Stubborn to a fault, willing to crush anyone beneath his foot if they so much look at his best friend wrong. Sometimes he thinks Goro’s comparable to a summer storm, violent and unpredictable, but truly breathtaking to those who are able to see the beauty within the lightning.
His gaze drops down to Goro’s lips, his heart pounding in his ears. Akira has never wanted to kiss anyone as badly as he wants to kiss him, he can’t imagine ever wanting anyone else the way that he wants Akechi Goro. His lips are delicate yet firm, his bottom lip used to being bitten in an age-old habit he’s had for as long as Akira’s known him. He wonders if Goro would be just as bitey when he kissed, or if he’d be softer, taking everything Akira wanted to give him.
“I’ll see you later,” Akira blurts and quickly steps away, slipping out the closet door before he does something he can’t take back.
***
“That woman fucked up my shot!” Goro seethes as the two of them walk down the late evening Kichijoji streets. “She bumped into my ass right when I was about to win.”
Because Akira values his life, he doesn’t mention the fact that Goro sticks his ass out so far during billiards that it’s kind of hard to avoid him. Not that he’s complaining.
“You’re not normally such a sore loser,” Akira says, trying not to laugh.
“I’m not a sore loser.” Crossing his arms, Goro puffs out his chest like a particularly offended bird. He’s adorable. “I’m simply complaining about the indignity I had to suffer.” Pausing, Goro side-eyes him. “Did you pay her off?”
This time, Akira does laugh. “Trust me,” he says, grinning. “I wouldn’t be paying someone else to grab your ass.”
For a moment, Goro freezes, his eyes going wide. That is, until he catches the look on Akira’s face a moment later and makes a noise like a strangled cat. “You are infuriating!”
“But you love me~” Akira sing-songs, to which Goro offers a saccharine sweet smile.
“Will the bet still continue if I kill you before the four months is up?”
He knows he only means it as a joke, but Akira finds himself starting to feel a little bad. His hair is clearly a sensitive subject for him, and as much as Akira is all for nudging Goro out of his comfort zone, he has the sudden sinking feeling that maybe he went too far with this one.
“You don’t actually have to do this if you don’t want to,” Akira tells him, lowering his voice to something much softer. Only, his efforts to fall on an unamused audience—Goro’s eyes narrowing into slits as he pins him with a glare.
“You’re backing out now? Afraid to claim your prize?”
Akira tilts his head, meeting his eyes. “Are you?”
After a moment, Goro looks away. “It’ll take some getting used to,” he admits, “but you know I wouldn’t have agreed to anything I wasn’t prepared to go through with.” Looking at Akira through his lashes, a coy grin dances on Goro’s lips. “Besides, it might be fun to watch you bark like a dog at all my potential suitors.”
Akira’s entire brain flatlines.
He watches Goro walk ahead of him while his mind attempts to reboot, his stomach flipping as he processes the implication of what he just said. Sometimes Goro says things and Akira has no idea if he’s oblivious to how it sounds, or if he’s just intentionally trying to get a reaction out of him.
“Come on dumbass, you’re walking me back to my apartment,” Goro throws over his shoulder, and Akira snaps out of his momentary stupor to hurry forward and find his place at his side.
If Ann were to see them right now, she’d no doubt tell him he’s whipped, and Akira wouldn’t deny it. Goro could ask him to go on a killing spree with him, and Akira’s first question would be ‘Where do we start?’. Maybe it’s a little problematic to be this devoted to someone, but he’s almost certain Goro would do the same for him, even if he’d never outright admit it.
***
Two months into the bet, Akira hosts a movie night, which quickly turns into a sleepover at his house.
His parents are out of town for the week, which isn’t really anything new, but that at least means that he, Goro, Ryuji, Ann, as well as her girlfriend Shiho, are able to make use of the entire house. They steal blankets and pillows from closets in addition to the guest room, and scatter them across the living room as the third movie of the night plays on the TV. This one’s Akira’s pick, which, of course, means that he chose the corniest romantic comedy he could find with the sole purpose of torturing his friends in the late hours of the night.
However, his plan only works for about the first twenty minutes of the movie, which is exactly how long it takes for his friends to grow quiet as they nod off one by one.
Soon enough, Akira and Goro are the only ones who are still awake, the both of them far too used to staying up past midnight. Goro, who had been taking residency in the lone armchair, takes his blanket and moves down to join Akira on the floor in front of it, the two of them sharing the bottom half of the chair to use as a backrest. With the movie long forgotten, they talk in hushed and muted tones—Akira whispering a teasing remark into Goro’s ear just to see him hide a smile.
It reminds Akira a lot of the sleepovers they used to have growing up, when Goro would sneak into his bedroom late at night when he couldn’t sleep, the two of them laying back in Akira’s bed and talking about meaningless things until Goro finally dozed off. Goro has always had trouble sleeping, plagued with relentless nightmares that he rarely talked about, and Akira knows that never changed.
There’s still two more months of their bet to go, and already Goro’s hair is longer than Akira’s ever seen it—long enough to gently flow around the tops of his shoulders. Every day, Akira swears it gets harder and harder to keep his hands to himself. He finds himself constantly touching and toying with his hair whenever he thinks he can get away with it…and Goro almost always lets him. Akira knows he loves the attention, preening like a bird at every compliment, no matter how small.
Eventually, their conversation slows, and it’s not long before Goro’s head comes to rest on his shoulder. Akira tenses for a moment, before he tentatively wraps an arm around him.
Slowly sliding a hand up his back, Akira decides to test his luck by running his fingers through the ends of Goro’s impossibly soft hair. Goro hums in contentment and nuzzles closer, which is likely only a product of his sleep-addled brain, but it doesn’t make Akira’s heart constrict any less. It’s not as if the two of them are strangers to platonic intimacy, far from it in fact, but somewhere along the line, lines ended up blurred and now Akira can’t help but think of every touch as romantic. It’s so easy to picture himself as Goro’s boyfriend, to imagine how it would feel to pull him onto his lap and hold him close. The thought of anyone else doing this with him, snuggling up to him with their hands in his hair, makes him sick. Goro is his and he’s Goro’s. That’s just how they work.
That feeling makes its presence known in his chest, stronger than ever. It’s the feeling of free falling without knowing if he’ll ever find the ground below, or the feeling of sharing warmth beneath his old comforter in the middle of winter. It’s the feeling of being someone else’s most important person—and them being his in return.
An old memory bubbles up to the surface, the recollection of a time long ago when he’d stroked Goro’s hair for the first time. It’s a long buried memory, forgotten with time as most childhood memories tend to be, but Akira suddenly remembers the context of the words that had been whispered to him late one night. He remembers the two of them sitting up in his bed, the window still cracked open from when Goro had snuck in—bringing in the late autumn chill.
“Do you think my mom actually loved me?”
“...I think so.”
“Then why wasn’t I enough?”
At the early age of twelve, Akira didn’t know how to answer that, but he understands now that Goro hadn’t really been looking for an answer anyway. He remembers sliding in close until they were shoulder to shoulder. When Goro had eventually nodded off, his head drooping on his shoulder, Akira began petting his hair in the same way he’d pet the stray cats that lived in the alley near his house. It’d been a slightly confused gesture, but Akira’s childhood line of thinking knew that it helped relax the cats, and so he hoped that somehow, it’d be enough to help his best friend too.
Presently, his nails lightly brush against Goro’s scalp causing him to purr under his touch, soaking up the attention as if he really is an oversized cat. Akira gently twists his fingers as he plays with his hair, watching as the fine strands cross and twist along with his movements. Goro gives a little contented sigh, his breathing slowing as sleep takes him, and Akira’s consumed with the same affectionate warmth that’s been overwhelming him for years.
Looking across the room, he meets Ann’s eyes. Obviously having woken up at some point, she gives him a knowing look.
It’s really no secret that Akira’s hopelessly in love with Akechi Goro, he just wishes he knew how to tell him. If it could risk their friendship, Akira’s not sure he’ll ever have the guts to confess.
He at least hopes Goro understands by now that he’s never going anywhere. That, whether it be as his boyfriend or just a friend, Akira will always love him unconditionally.
***
The end of the fourth month comes far too quickly, and before Akira knows it, it’s the final day before he has to say goodbye to Goro’s angelic hair forever.
“I’m going to miss this,” Akira laments, half draped over Goro’s shoulders as he plays with the ends of his hair. It’s so much longer than it used to be, a little past shoulder length, and it’s beautiful enough to make any hair model cry with envy. Lately, Goro’s been almost exclusively wearing his hair up at school, but today he’s left it down, as if he knows how hard the separation is going to be.
And maybe Akira’s reaction might be a little dramatic, and sure he’s earning quite the withering glare from the school librarian, but until Goro physically shoves him off, he’s going to be staying exactly where he is.
“I’m still going to have hair, Akira,” Goro says dryly, tolerating it as Akira paws all over him. His gaze continues to sweep the book shelves, as if still searching for whatever book he’d been looking for after school before Akira tracked him down to say his goodbyes.
“Let me experience the anguish of a military wife who doesn’t know when her husband’s going to return from war.”
Goro snorts. “I can’t see you as a wife, but maybe as the household dog.”
“You’re an ass,” Akira says with a grin, parting from his hair to look at the face of the guy attached to it. Goro’s much redder than usual, flushed that attractive pink that Akira loves to see. His smile widens. “I think you’d fit the role, I bet you’d look hot dressed like a 50’s housewife.”
“Are you asking me to dress up for you, Akira?” Goro asks, raising a brow.
“I might just make that my next contingency prize. Better for you than this one, since it’d probably only be for an hour or two and not four months.”
“Right,” Goro says, voice oddly quiet as he turns his gaze back to the shelf in front of him. It’s a reaction Akira hadn’t been expecting, and he’s been studying Akechi Goro like he’s an art form ever since he first realized he’d much rather spend time with Goro than with any of the girls who asked him out in junior high. All he knows is that something is clearly bothering him, and whatever it is will remain a mystery until Goro’s ready to talk about it himself.
Tucking Goro’s hair behind his ear, Akira’s fingertips linger against his skin for a second longer than necessary. Goro sharply inhales, his eyes falling shut…which is exactly when Akira decides it’s probably best to pull away. There are still eyes on them, the school library isn’t exactly private, but Akira knows somewhere that is.
“Come over to my place tonight.” Shoving his hands in his pockets, Akira gives him a lopsided smile. “I owe you a haircut.”
For a moment, Goro looks at him as if he’s forgotten how to talk.
“Ah...Yes. That will be fine,” he says, his voice slightly higher than normal. “I have a student council meeting I need to attend, so I suppose I’ll see you this evening.” He gives Akira an award winning smile before turning and quickly making his way out of the library.
Akira watches him go with immense confusion, unable to make sense of his reaction. Maybe they didn’t have the book he wanted? Akira thinks, looking at the shelf of books for a moment before someone clears their throat loudly behind him. When he turns to see the librarian still attempting to murder him with the strength of her glare alone, Akira figures it’s probably best to leave the library and head home.
After all, he still has a few places he needs to stop before Goro comes over tonight.
***
The first thing Akira realizes when Goro walks into his house that night, is that it probably wasn’t the absence of a book that sent him running earlier.
No, Goro is nervous. It’s a strange look on him considering Akira’s only seen him this flighty a few times in his life. One of those times being the night when he and Goro watched a slasher film for the first time, and Goro spent the following week sleeping with a knife under his pillow. Or…well at the very least, Akira thinks he stopped doing that. Honestly he never asked.
Either way, Goro definitely has that same wild look in his eyes, the one that suggests he’s either going to flee or claw the eyes out of any unsuspecting person who so much as taps his shoulder and surprises him. He tries to play it off through, forcing a smile and laughing that fake people-pleasing laugh that Akira’s always hated. It’s a little insulting that Goro actually thinks any of that is going to fool him, but he also knows better than to press him on it, so Akira lets it go and leads him upstairs to his room.
Laying across his desk is a small collection of hair supplies he bought after school today. Sitting among them is a set of professional hair-cutting scissors, not that he understands the difference between them and regular scissors, but he bets Goro would and that’s what matters. And sitting beside that is a small assortment of other accessories he picked up while looking for said scissors. There’s a large chance that Goro will immediately turn him down, but he wants to at least try.
He already has a chair set up in the middle of his room, a towel beneath it to catch a majority of his hair before it reaches the carpet. If Akira has it his way, he won’t have to cut off as much as Goro probably expects him to. He knows that he’ll be testing his luck at ever getting to do this again if Goro notices, but what’s life without a little risk?
When Goro goes to sit on the wooden chair, he’s so stiff and tense that he looks like he might snap in half. He’s cute, but Akira also prefers his best friend when he’s acting more like himself.
“Relax,” Akira says, sweeping his hair away from his neck and catching his faint shiver.
“I’ve never had anyone else cut my hair before,” Goro admits, tugging on the fabric of his blue sweater vest. He must have changed after school. “I’m not sure what to expect,” he finishes with a nervous laugh.
Akira gets the feeling that’s not the only thing that has him so tense, but he decides to let it go for now.
Instead, he focuses his attention on gathering Goro’s hair in his hands, brushing it back so it all falls behind his shoulders. His knuckles skim the back of Goro’s neck in the process, and that faint touch has him somehow stiffening up even more. It’s maybe not the best reaction Akira could have hoped for, especially considering what he’s about to ask next. But there’s been something Akira’s been wanting to do since they started this entire bet, and he’s not about to take the cowards way out now.
Leaning down, he whispers against the curve of his ear; “Actually, I have a proposition for you.”
He hears Goro’s sharp inhale of breath, catches the faint tremor in his voice when he says;
“What kind of proposition?”
“You should let me braid your hair,” Akira says, slipping out from behind his back to find the hair supplies on his desk, turning to waving his newly acquired set of hairpins at him with a grin.
Goro’s face is a shade of red darker than he’s ever seen it, and his eyes are dark when he looks at him with a mix of confusion and…disappointment?
“What?” Goro asks, his brow crinkling. “Do you even know how to braid?”
Akira shrugs. “I watch hair-braiding tutorials sometimes with Mona.”
He earns a very disbelieving stare in response.
“You watch them with Morgana,” he echoes flatly.
“Yeah, they’re relaxing,” Akira responds defensively, it’s really not that weird. He and Mona always watched things together, and it just so happens that Akira has an interest in learning how to braid hair. Specifically Goro’s hair. Mona might not be able to talk, but he knows he understands him. “Now come on, let me braid it,” Akira continues, fingers twitching in anticipation over the prospect of seeing what Goro will look like with an elegant up-do of braids.
Except, Goro still seems unsure. His lips are still pulled into a small frown, his brow scrunched up as he overthinks something that should be simple. It’s enough to let Akira know that a part of him does want this, it’s just a matter of whether or not it will win out over whatever’s stopping him.
Moving over to him, Akira crouches down, sensing Goro watching his every movement as he reaches up and tucks a loose strand of hair behind his ear. He offers Goro a weak smile, one that he hopes conveys that he’s not as confident about all of this as he pretends to be. They’re on equal footing, just as always.
“I promise you’ll look very pretty,” Akira teases, earning a scoff. And yet, Goro hesitates only a moment more before he gives a small nod.
“Alright.”
Heart warmed, Akira places a hand on his knee, giving it a squeeze. He then pushes himself back up to his feet, moving to his desk to grab a brush and hairpins out of his newly purchased pile before returning to his spot behind him.
Then he gets to work.
As Akira starts running a brush through his hair, he watches as Goro visibly starts to relax, the tension slipping from his shoulders. Even when he’s sure that any trace of knots or tangles have been brushed out, Goro’s hair laying across his back silky and smooth, he still continues to run the brush from the top of his head down to the base of his scalp. It might be a little excessive, but eventually Goro gives a small contented sigh, melting into the chair in the same way that he’d sometimes melt against Akira when half-asleep.
Akira knew he’d like this once he stopped overthinking so much. After all, Goro has always loved being pampered, even if he’ll never actually admit it in layman's terms.
Now that he’s sufficiently relaxed, Akira slips the end of the brush into the pocket of his jeans and replaces it with his fingers, running them through Goro’s silky hair…and earning a small keening sound that startles the both of them. Akira stands there frozen with his hand in Goro’s hair, feeling the heat radiating from his scalp and waiting for the moment that Goro swats him away and changes his mind about all this.
Except…he doesn’t.
Instead, Goro stays completely still, as if afraid Akira might retract his hand if he moves, and Akira’s heart pounds frantically within his chest as he’s silently granted permission to continue. And so he does, this time moving to massage his scalp with his fingers, his nails scraping gently across the skin. As he does, Goro makes the same noise again—a louder and more unmistakable moan.
He’s being shameless, Akira realizes, his breath catching and his pants growing tighter. He can’t even pretend to understand when the switch occurred, how Goro somehow went from tense and nervous to wanton seductress in only a few minutes, but what he does know is that Akechi Goro never does anything by accident. He’s challenging him, laying a card on the table and waiting for Akira to make the next move.
Rising up to the unspoken challenge, Akira leans down until his lips are brushing the crest of his ear. “You seem worked up tonight, honey,” he whispers, his voice low and rumbling. Goro visibly shivers.
“You were the one who was so eager to get his hands on me,” Goro counters, a smirk pulling at his lips and his eyes half-lidded. “Or am I wrong, Akira?”
Just a small tilt of his head and Akira could be kissing him. He’s so close he can see the flecks of brown within the maroon of his eyes, and he can smell the faint scent of caramel and vanilla coming from his hair. He wants to kiss him so badly it’s like a physical ache, a longing that permeates his very essence and makes it feel as if he might lose his mind if he doesn’t learn what Goro sounds like when he’s pressed against a wall with his tongue in his mouth.
Shit.
“No, you’re not wrong,” Akira professes weakly before pulling back because he’s not nearly as brave as people seem to think he is. Goro means everything to him, if he got caught up in the moment and ruined their friendship over something Goro isn’t actually ready for, he’d never forgive himself.
Goro doesn’t say anything to that, and the two of them fall into silence.
It’s not exactly uncomfortable, but the air is undeniably heavy, a tension in the air that buzzes against his skin and makes his usually graceful fingers tremble as he returns them to Goro’s hair. He feels a little like he just squandered an opportunity, ruined a chance that he might never be given again. He’s aware that probably makes him an idiot, and Ann would likely be screaming at him if she saw him right now, but she’ll never understand what it’s like to have someone she doesn’t know how to live without. Nor does she understand how Akechi Goro operates. If he wanted this, he would have taken it already. Akira’s sure that he’s made his feelings obvious to him by now.
Trying to calm his nerves and his racing heart, Akira focuses his full attention on braiding Goro’s hair, sectioning pieces off and then pinning the braids neatly on the top of his head. It’s a good distraction at least, and it’s not long before he’s sliding in the last few pins.
The end result has Goro looking almost otherworldly, ethereal—with the elegant braids serving to accentuate Goro’s slightly flushed skin, while his dark eyes are partially hidden beneath his naturally thick lashes.
“How do I look?” Goro asks, speaking for the first time in far too long. He doesn’t exactly seem nervous, but he does seem unlike his normal self, his question tentative and a little unsure.
“Beautiful,” Akira answers honestly, and earns a small smile—one of Goro’s rare but real ones, the kind that he never lets anyone else see.
“Akira,” he says after a moment.
”Yeah?”
“Why haven’t you kissed me?”
The world stops.
There’s a certain rawness to the way he says it, the determined line of his jaw and fierce intensity of his eyes makes Akira feel as if he’s been pinned to a dartboard. It’s that look that tells him that Goro is determined to figure out what he’s thinking, even if he has to rip open his chest and inspect the secrets of his heart himself.
“I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to,” Akira admits, to which the look in Goro’s eyes only grows more heated.
“I’ve been taking you on dates, demanding you walk me home in hopes that you’d kiss me on my doorstep, now you have me in your bedroom moaning like a bitch in heat, and you’re still unsure if I want you to kiss me?”
“Oh.” Akira swallows thickly. “Was that your plan tonight?”
“I thought it was your plan, dumbass!” Goro snarls like a guy at the end of his rope.
Oh, Akira repeats in his head, like a dumbass.
Goro rests his head in his hands, taking a deep breath before he looks back up at him. “….Unless of course, you don’t actually want me–oomph—!”
He’s cut off by Akira’s lips pressing firmly against his.
Goro stands there frozen for a moment, his lips slowly moving against Akira’s as if he’s in a daze. Then, all at once, he comes alive, a growl erupting from his throat as he kisses back with all that he has.
It’s liquid fire rushing through his veins, every nerve ending coming alive along his skin, the loss of inhibition as Akira wraps his arms around Akechi Goro and finally kisses him the way he’s been dreaming of for so long. Goro bites down on his bottom lip, causing Akira to groan at the mixture of pain and pleasure, almost giddy with the confirmation that Goro is bitey when he kisses. While Akira’s kissed a few people before, he knows Goro hasn’t, and it shows in the way that he uses a little too much teeth and tongue. And yet, what he lacks in experience he makes up for with raw eagerness and enthusiasm, as if he’s been starving for this and isn’t going to be satisfied until he takes all that he wants.
Greedy, Akira thinks fondly as Goro claws at his upper back, desperately bringing him in closer. Goro whimpers into the kiss, needy and wanton, pressing his body against Akira’s until it’s as if there’s no distinguishing line between them. Akira brackets his waist with his hands, marveling at the shape and feel of him between his palms as he guides him backward until Goro’s back hits the wall. Goro gasps into his mouth, breaking the kiss to siphon air into his lungs before surging forward once more.
This time, Akira’s hand finds his hair, threading his fingers between the matrix of tightly wound braids. Goro makes a small sound of approval, rewarding him by dragging his teeth along Akira’s bottom lip. He groans, the hand in Goro’s hair catching on the braids as he attempts to move it, resulting in him pulling harshly on his hair…and Goro moans, loud and shameless. It startles them both enough to break apart, chests heaving and eyes dilated as they stare at each other.
“Do that again,” Goro heaves, and when Akira obediently pulls his hair again he whines and throws his head back with a eloquent; “Fuck.”
“That’s it, baby,” Akira says, testing the nickname that he always wanted to try.
Goro releases a choked laugh. “What the fuck, Akira.”
Taking advantage of their position, Akira dips down to kiss along his neck. “What?” he asks, grinning against his skin. “Not into it? How about honey?” He pauses to place another kiss. “Sweetheart?”
A low keening sound immediately emits from Goro’s throat before he slaps a hand over his mouth.
“Ding-ding, I think we have a winner,” Akira teases.
“I’m going to murder you in your sleep.”
“You’ll have to share a bed with me first, sweetheart.”
Goro makes a strangled sound, grabbing him by the hair and smashing their lips together to shut him up.
Akira certainly isn’t complaining.
The next time they break apart to catch their breath, Akira doesn’t take his eyes away from Goro’s face. He’s flushed and absolutely radiant, lips kiss-bitten and swollen, and his eyes darker than he’s ever seen them. Hair escapes some of his braids, making him look adorably disheveled, and Akira would take a picture if he thought there was a chance Goro would let him.
Instead, Akira places one last lingering kiss on the edge of his jaw before untangling himself from his limbs and slipping away, earning a frustrated sound from Goro.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
Akira doesn’t answer him right away, stepping over to his desk to grab the most important accessory that he picked up from the jewelry shop today. Taking the intricate hair piece out of the black velvet box, he turns to Goro with a corny wink. “Completing the picture,” he says, right before he steps back over to him and clips the hair piece into his intricate crown of braids.
Exactly as he’d hoped, the addition of the elegant vine of blue and white crystal forget-me-nots leaves Goro even more flustered. True love and respect, as well as the promise to always be loyal—Akira knows Goro’s not very well-versed in flower language, but Akira’s never been good with words, so he hopes this will somehow get across the message he’s been trying to get him to understand for years. The flowers look beautiful on him, they look right, and combined with the braids, it makes Goro look like a fae prince straight out of a fairytale. Except Goro’s real. He’s his.
“You’re such a sap,” Goro says fondly.
“But I’m your sap.”
Goro hums. “I suppose you are,” he says, reaching up to run his fingers through Akira’s fringe, gently playing with it in the same way Akira has gotten used to doing with Goro’s own hair.
“I still need to give you a haircut,” Akira murmurs, eyes sliding shut as he soaks up the attention. Like this, he can finally understand why Goro likes having his hair touched so much.
“Save it,” Goro says with a quiet laugh. Retracting his hand, he slips out from Akira’s arms and begins tugging him toward the bed. “I wouldn’t mind keeping it like this a while longer.”
“Change of heart?”
“Or maybe I just like it when you can’t keep your hands off me,” Goro purrs, looking up at him through his lashes as he slides back on Akira’s bed, extending his hand in offering. Akira doesn’t hesitate for a second before taking it, allowing himself to be pulled onto his own mattress to join him. This all feels so surreal, it’s as if he stepped straight into one of his frequent daydreams.
Pinning him against the mattress, Akira looks down at him with a smile that likely gives away the depths of his happiness. “Oh honey,” he says. “You don’t need long hair for that.” Leaning down he takes a moment to press his lips against the corner of Goro’s jaw. “Although…I can maybe show you a few other benefits that might convince you,” he adds suggestively, watching Goro’s eyes darken with intrigue
“I’m interested.”
“I thought you might be,” Akira says, and then he pulls him into another kiss.
It’s a kiss that lasts for a while.