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Goro stretches out releasing his legs from the tight bundle he’s had them in for far too long now. The textured matting of the chair slides under his feet as he reluctantly presses his legs forward, until they’re off the chair altogether and stretched on the grainy sand below, crisp and warm in the summer heat.
The sun claims them then, resting across his shins and feet in a sharp breath of warmth, the only parts of him not still safely huddled under the umbrella he’s taken refuge under. He glares at the highlighting beam that he knows will, in time, bake his skin in a way that is burning rather than comfortable.
But his legs are tired and need the break from being dragged close to him to act as a book rest. So he’ll allow the momentary trade of one discomfort for the possibility of another, and pray Makoto’s sunscreen is as good as she’d claimed it was.
The book is closed, resting on his lap for the moment as he stretches. Arms pulled above his head, legs stretching just that much further, his whole body sighing and popping with the movement. A yawn escapes his lungs, contentment sinking through his being for the moment.
His surroundings are not quiet, far from it in fact. His companions are making more of a ruckus than he’d thought possible, but Goro has grown used to the noise and chatter that follows the Phantom Thieves wherever they go.
His lips quirk up at that thought, not five years ago he’d never imagined getting used to such a thing, let alone enjoying it enough to find peace in the chaos.
But Goro does.
He cherishes moments like this. Dewdrops of something he’d never thought possible. A life he had thrown away all rights to when he’d stepped onto the path of revenge, handed back to him miraculously. He deserves none of this, and thus hordes every second, a dragon keeping their treasure locked tightly away.
“You gonna join us now, or did you mean it when you said you were planning to get through a whole book today?” Ren appears at his side, ducking under the umbrella to stand so close to the chair his shins brush against it.
Goro raises an eyebrow at him, “You have your diversions, I have mine.”
Gray eyes, once sharp as daggers, now soft petals, roll, “You can’t come to the beach and not touch the water, Goro.”
A shiver runs through him at the sound of his given name. Ren’s used it for a couple years now, and the thieves got blanket permission this year. Yet every time he hears it, it is a revelation.
“I am very much capable of doing just that.”
Ren leans down just enough to poke him in the shoulder. Goro glares, and jerks back, “Stop that.”
“You’re warm, even in the shade,” Ren straightens, hand turning, open palmed towards him, “Come on, getting into the water won’t make you melt, but you certainly will if you stay here.”
“Some might disagree with you on that point,” Goro says, wryly. A habit he hasn’t shaken yet, the constant need to remind himself and everyone around him of the villain that hides beneath his surface. Of the truth the thieves still seem incapable of fully holding against him.
A flicker of pain crosses Ren’s features, so fast no one else would catch it. But Goro was the cause, and Goro never misses anything Ren does. He has captivated too much of Goro’s attention, of his life for that.
“Goro, please?”
It’s pitiful how easily Goro breaks at such things.
“Fine.” His book is set at the edge of the chair as he stands. The movement, more than his earlier stretch, reawakens his body. Legs tingling as they carry his weight, back popping slightly as he straightens fully.
The sand beneath his feet shifts, but holds firm, teasing its way between his toes and into every inch of exposed skin, rough and gritty. Even after he scrubs at them later, he’s sure he’ll feel the echo of it for days after. He tries not to wince.
Ren snorts anyway as they make their way towards the rest of the group, spread out closer to the water, “You’d think going to the beach was some kind of punishment.”
A memory distant and so frayed Goro is surprised it still exists, rises within him. He can’t name the family he’d been with, they’d all blurred together at one point and Goro has never cared to preserve much from his time being shuffled from home to home. But he remembers a trip to the beach. Or rather an almost trip.
Flickers of a different landscape layer themselves over this, the back of a tall broad shouldered man, and slender form of a woman whose eyes were never willing to meet Goro’s. Of hands as small as his pushing and shoving, yanking on him until he tumbled against concrete, dirty and scraped.
It’s hard not to flinch back at the old echo of yelling, of a door slamming and Goro finding himself alone again. Knees stinging, palms itching with how they already felt dirty. Of the sound of a car leaving him behind, and the promise of sun with it.
“It is quite the opposite.” Goro’s not sure why he bothers to voice the thought, quiet as it comes out.
Gray eyes startle wide, and Ren almost misses a step, but catches himself, foot only hopping against the ground for a moment, “Yeah?”
Goro scoffs, “Don’t sound so sentimental, I’m simply commenting on how I have enjoyed watching your friends make fools of themselves. It is a treat to see it in a new setting.”
Ren doesn't hesitate to punch him in the arm. It’s light, playful, an acknowledgement that he won’t press whatever wound he’d accidentally poked, “I think you mean our friends are making fools of themselves.”
“So you admit it?” Goro raises an eyebrow.
“If you can’t act a little childish at the beach, where can you?” Ren grins, bright as the sun blanketing them.
Where indeed. Goro returns the smile, and prepares himself to engage in a little childish behavior. Another memory to shore up, alongside the gems he’s so carefully collecting.