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“No.”
Akira couldn’t help the smirk stretching across his face as he heard that voice alongside the clamor of Leblanc’s signature door chime. He stayed put at the kitchen sink in his apron with his sleeves rolled up, eyes fixed on finishing up the task at hand.
“No what, darling?”
“You are not wearing that.”
“I’m not?”
“No.”
“But you said wear something nice. This is nice.”
“Those are jeans!”
Akira tried to hold back the cackle threatening to slip past his lips. He could practically see Goro’s seething face through the back of his own head. “You should have been more specific. I’m so handsome that everything I wear looks nice.” He sensed the heat of Goro’s displeasure growing closer, like a quickly escalating security level in a palace, and he looked over his shoulder in spite of himself.
Only to immediately find his brain grinding to a sudden and painful halt.
He thought he had prepared himself for it. Goro always wore nice clothing – his school uniform back in the day had practically been a three-piece suit – but this, this, was something else.
Goro Akechi stood before him in a navy blue blazer expertly tailored so it accentuated all of his best features, held closed by only one button (surely following whatever the fashion dictates these days.) Under that, a dusky indigo shirt which called to mind Goro's Black Mask outfit, with no tie and one button under his slender neck undone to reveal the dip between his collarbones. Well-trimmed gray pants made his legs seem never-ending, but end they did in a pair of polished dressed shoes. He even had a pocket square. And of course,makeup applied in a manner that one wouldn’t realize he was wearing any, his wavy brown hair styled in a manner that was made to appear effortless but had probably taken him an hour. And then the coup de grace, one silver bangle peeking out from the cuff of his sleeve. One Akira recognized. Akira hadn't even realized Goro had held onto it, and something about the fact he did made something in his chest warm and flutter.
The words “handsome” and “hot” and “holy shit I’m doomed” swirled his mind as he kept gaping like a fish caught on land. He was only torn out of his dumbfounded staring by Futaba cackling like a demonic imp from the other side of the room
“OH EM GEE! Akira, your FA-A-A-ACE! Crow, Crow, I think you broke him. You owe me a new brother!”
Goro’s sparkling eyes and quirked grin made it very clear that this reaction was exactly what he was aiming for, but the mirth vanished as he looked Akira over again and scowled. “Seriously, you need to change.”
A scoff carried over the bar, pulling their attention. “Seriously.” Sojiro approached with arms crossed, a judgmental sweep of his own over Akira’s outfit. “I thought I taught you better. I know you know better. I’ll finish up here, you go and actually get ready for this thing of yours.”
Akira felt his cheeks heat a little. Sojiro was a well-dressed man himself, and Akira had always been a sucker for his approval, so even though Goro’s reaction had absolutely been worth it, he hadn’t anticipated facing that raised eyebrow.
Sheesh, it wasn’t like this was a date or anything…
…no matter how much he wished it was…
“Okay, okay,” Akira said with a laugh, wiping his soaked hands on his apron before moving to untie it. “Don’t have a conniption, either of you. I wasn’t planning on wearing this, but I didn’t want to get my nice clothes messed up from the dishes.” He batted his eyes in Goro's direction, placing the back of his hand under his chin in a demure anime pose. “I don’t need much time to clean up, yknow.”
He relished in Goro’s grumpy look before hurrying off upstairs, where his own outfit was hanging safely out of the way of any cat hair or dust.
Two years had passed since the fall of Maruki’s reality, and six months since Goro’s reemergence in his life. Gone were the days of moving through the world in a grief-stricken stupor, unable to voice why to anyone but Morgana. When Goro returned, Akira couldn’t stay mad - his disappearance hadn’t been Goro’s fault. He had needed to heal physically from what happened on Shido’s ship, and then spent time in custody until it was clear there was no way to prosecute him on any charges. And it had taken time for Akira to come to terms with the fact there was no longer any deadlines, any threats, any reason for Goro to leave him again.
(Okay there were still moments of dread and panic, where his dumb stupid brain tried to convince him it was all a dream, but those instances were starting to become less frequent).
It was all fine now. They both survived the Metaverse, and Maruki, and separation. And now, they were going on a – going to see a show together.
Akira set about getting dressed. This wasn’t a date. They hadn’t called it a date. They weren’t going to call it a date.
True, they were dressing up fancy to see some American musical Goro loved that Akira had never heard of before (one that hadn’t been adapted to Japanese – Akira was pretty good at English but he had a feeling in this case it wouldn’t be much different from the time Yusuke dragged him to that Italian opera). And then a nice dinner.
But… but, it wasn’t a date.
…god he wished he could call it a date.
“Tie or no tie?” Akira asked, strolling down the stairs and holding up the only two ties he owned. Goro’s eyes widened, flicking between the two options, then to Akira, then sweeping up and down Akira’s frame with an intensity that made Akira’s face grow very warm and made his throat tighten.
Goro was looking at him like he wanted to either fight him or devour him, and, uh, yes, Akira would like either, or, no, wait, all of the above.
“That one,” Goro said tightly after far too long, with a stiff pointed gesture to the tie on Akira’s left – the red one. Of course, his signature color.
“Works for me,” Akira said, chucking the other up the stairwell and throwing Goro’s choice around his neck. And then proceeded to fumble, brow furrowing and tongue out as he tried to remember - over, under, around the– no wait… Last time he needed to, in court, after his first arrest, he had just looked it up online.
“Oh for the love of – give me that!” Goro swatted his hands aside as he stepped forward, right up close to Akira, his slender fingers deft and experienced moving over the red silk.
It only took two seconds for it to really register just how very close to one another they were now.
Geez Sojiro, did you turn up the heat? It’s suddenly gotten much warmer in here all of a sudden.
Goro finished the Windsor knot and tightened it up loosely to Akira’s throat – and lingered there a little too long rearranging his collar around it and Akira couldn’t help but gulp, his Adam’s apple brushing Goro’s knuckles – and then Goro snapped his hands away to fidget with Akira’s jacket and brush some fuzz off his shoulder. “It’s… an improvement,” he said with feigned disinterest, taking a step back.
Sojiro snorted and shook his head, returning his attention to wiping down the counter. Futaba’s face was so pink from holding back laughter that Akira worried she might pass out.
“You guys are the worst,” Akira snapped, snatching up his phone and keys off the counter and glowering at them. Goro was already hurrying to the door to get the hell out before someone said something to make it worse.
“Have fun on your daaaate!” Futaba jeered.
“It’s not a date,” both Akira and Goro said in unison, a little too quickly.
“For the love of–!” Futaba slammed her laptop shut and leaned over the table to glare at them. “Would you two idiots figure it out and put us out of our misery!?” She fixed Akira with an intense stare, pointing at Goro. “You like him,” and then she looked at Goro and pointed to Akira. “And you like him. Now–” She flailed her hands at them emphatically “--do something about it!”
For an agonizingly long time, no one spoke, no one moved. It felt like a stalemate, no moves left on the chessboard, both kings in mutual checkmate. Akira caught Goro’s eye, and the other looked mortified and pink-faced with just a hint of uncertainty and – did he dare to say – hope?
“For the love of– get the hell out of my cafe and figure yourselves out!” Sojiro snapped with such force it successfully propelled both young men out the front door and into the streets of Yongen-Jaya. The two of them stood there blinking at one another in stunned disbelief for a long moment, until finally, Akira proceeded to break down into hysterical laughter.
“It’s not funny!” Goro’s voice cracked on the words like he was in high school again, clearly flustered and overwhelmed, and god that just made it all even funnier.
“Come on, Goro,” Akira finally managed to say after he caught his breath. He gave Goro a small, shy smile. “I mean… They’re, they’re right, aren’t they? Why do we keep dancing around this…?”
Goro’s face and ears turned impossibly even more pink, and he looked away stiffly. “I mean, it’s just – It’s not that I don’t –” He swallowed hard. “I… wanted to wait for the right moment…”
Akira decided to take pity on the poor guy. He gestured loosely to the entrance of the alley, toward the train station. “Seems like as good a moment as any to me. I, um, I’m okay with calling this a date. If you are.”
Goro swallowed hard, still avoiding Akira’s gaze as they started walking together.
“I… I’m okay with that… …In fact, I… I’d like that…”
Akira felt a rush of adrenaline and excitement he hadn’t felt since the Metaverse collapsed, even more poignant and uplifting as the day Goro finally returned. It hit so sharp and sudden he felt like he could fly. Could skip down the street like some twitterpated fool. Holy shit. Goro really wanted this to be a date. He wanted to date him! He liked him!
He couldn’t stop smiling like an idiot as they neared the main street that led towards the subway when Goro hip checked him with a growl.
“Wipe that stupid self-satisfied grin off your face, Kurusu!”
“You liiiike me!”
“Not right now I don’t! You’re a goddamned menace–”
Akira stole a glance. Goro was still pink in the face and trying so damn hard not to smile. It only made Akira smile wider. “Admit it, that’s what you like about me–”
“--I’ll ditch you and drag Futaba to the show instead you little–”
“Well, well, well–” a sudden voice spoke up, shattering the moment. “If it isn’t my little guinea pig!”
Akira groaned internally and paused, turning to the source of the voice. Goro stopped right beside him, his stance growing stiff as they watched Dr Tae Takemi approach from the corner market. Her long slender legs were bared in a short black goth dress and obscenely high platform heels, doctor’s jacket billowing behind her like a cape. She smiled devilishly as she approached, and Akira definitely didn’t miss the way her eyes swept over him from top to bottom, appreciating his outfit with no restraint.
“Oh, hello Tae-sensei,” Akira said, smiling easily and ignoring the way she looked him over. “I hope you’re doing well.”
“Busy as ever, thanks to your meddling,” she said with a huff but with a twinkle in her eye. She gave him another once-over, her eyebrows lifting in interest as she reached a hand out and tugged at the lapel of his jacket. “Well, now, you’re all gussied up to the nines, aren’t you? An absolute tease… remind me, how old are you again?”
That familiar uneasiness Akira had long associated with her settled in his stomach, and he was suddenly very aware of Goro standing next to them, watching with that hunter’s gaze of his.
“Still too young for you, sensei,” he said easily, a long practiced response. Legal now, sure, but not on your life, sensei.
She tsked. “A shame.” Her eyes were roaming again, which always made him want to shift uncomfortably but he’d long learned to not give her that satisfaction. Then, she blinked and finally seemed to notice Goro standing there, and took a step back, dropping her hand away from Akira's lapel to her pocket. She looked him over with a little less overt curiosity. “Ah, and who is this? A friend of yours?”
Akira looked over at Goro, and felt his polite smile fade. Goro was staring at Takemi with a closed-off expression that hinted at hatred. His stance was more tense than Akira has seen in him in a long time, standing perfectly straight with arms tight to his sides, hands twitching like he was doing everything he could not to curl them into fists or reach for a knife, a muscle in his jaw flexing with how tightly he was clenching it. When Goro realized attention had turned on him, he lifted his chin and his demeanor shifted reflexively into something bordering on the Detective Prince, a plastic smile gracing his face. “I’m an old classmate of Kurusu’s, sensei. Nobody important.”
Akira felt himself growing even more concerned. He hadn’t seen that fake Detective Prince side of Goro since before the engine room. The fact he was pulling it out now was not a good sign.
Takemi considered Goro with a hum, furrowing her brow. “I dunno. You seem familiar. I feel like I know you from somewhere.”
Goro’s plastic pleasantness wavered just a little, and he shook his head. There was a flash of something desperate in his gaze as he turned to Akira. “Sorry, you must be mistaking me for someone else. Come on, Kurusu-kun. We don’t want to be late.”
Goro grabbed Akira’s wrist in a tight, nearly painful grip and tugged. Akira staggered after him, and he quickly waved to Tae. “See you later, sensei!”
“Don’t be a stranger now, guinea pig.”
They rounded the corner and Goro released his hand and began to practically march toward the station as quickly as he could.
“Goro,” Akira said, jogging to catch up. “Hey, you okay?”
“I’m fine.” The flat affect to his voice and darkened gaze said otherwise.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” Stern, forceful. No room for argument.
Akira sighed and focused on keeping pace with him. He’d learned over the last few months that sometimes he just had to let Goro work through his emotions when something like this happened, just stand by and be a comforting familiar presence nearby because trying to force him to open up about anything was just asking for an angry outburst and a ruined evening.
They reached the subway station and headed down the stairs just in time to see the train leave. Akira sighed. “Figures. At least it won't be long til the next one.”
Goro didn’t say anything. He was just standing there tensely, staring out into the empty station with a clouded expression. Akira sighed.
“Look, I’m sorry about that back there, Goro. She’s a bit much, but Tae-sensei’s really not so bad. There’s no reason to be–”
Jealous. He was going to say ‘jealous,’ but Goro cut him off.
“Why does she call you that?”
Akira blinked. “Huh?”
“Guinea pig.” Goro fixed him with a look, his expression completely unreadable, his voice quiet and emotionless. “Why does she call you that?
Something uneasy settled into Akira’s stomach as he looked into those maroon-brown eyes. “I, well, back during the Phantom Thieves, she and I had, yknow, a deal.”
“A deal,” Goro repeated impassively, turning away to look at the tile on the far side of the subway. If anything, he seemed even more stiff, face darkening. “One of your deals.”
“Yeah.” Akira glanced around. No one else had stepped into the station yet. “She was willing to sell me medical supplies for the Metaverse, if I agreed to sample some new drug formulations for her.”
A few seconds passed in silence as Goro absorbed this information. He whipped his head around to look at him, and Akira was startled by just how mortified his expression was. “Sampled drugs? Akira, she– she experimented on you?!”
“That’s– I mean ‘experiment’ is a bit strong of a word–”
“What kind of drugs?? What were the potential side effects?? Did she even have proper regulatory approval for any kind of drug studies or was this entirely done strictly under the table?? Were you even properly informed of what you were taking in order to give proper consent??”
A nervous laugh leapt out of Akira’s chest, and his hand reached for his bangs to tug on them. It was his main tell, and they both knew it. He avoided Goro’s wide unblinking gaze, suddenly overwhelmed. “It… really wasn’t that big of a deal, Goro–”
“Not a big deal? Not a big deal?!” Goro repeated incredulously “How could your health and wellbeing not be a big deal?? Did the other Thieves even know about this, or was this just another one of the many stupid reckless things you did for the team without letting anyone else know?!”
Akira shrugged as he continued to avoid the intensity of Goro’s attention. He wasn’t about to admit that no, no one but Mona knew. He didn’t need to give Goro even more reason to freak out. He focused on Tae-sensei instead. “Sensei needed help perfecting the right combination of compounds to treat a former patient of hers – a child – that was dying of–”
Goro suddenly rounded on Akira like he was personally offended by him, rage clearly starting to overpower his panic yet there was still something fragile in those wide eyes. “You, you made a deal with a strange doctor, on her word alone, to sample what was likely to be completely untested and unregulated compounds, intended for someone with a medical condition you didn’t have. How could you put yourself into that kind of risk?! Anyone with even a modicum of knowledge about the scientific method couldn’t even begin to surmise that testing formulations on one single healthy high schooler could ever provide the necessary information to replicate the results with a sick child! What the hell were you thinking?! What the fuck was she thinking?!”
Akira was taken back by just how impassioned Goro had become. His face was terribly pale, his shoulders hunched up like he was ready to fight, his hands fists at his sides. Akira could only shrug sheepishly. “I don’t know what to tell you. All I know is that it worked, the child was cured – I met her, it wasn’t like she was made up – and I got what I needed from the deal, and that was supplies for the team.” Some of those medicines had been the difference between life and death in the Metaverse, between victory and defeat.
Goro shook his head violently, wide eyes still fixed on him. Akira realized with a start that Goro was shaking now. “You, you have no idea what the outcome of taking such unknown substances could have been, Joker. For all you know, you could have ended up with any number of side effects ranging from something as simple and temporary as hives to something fucking permanent like organ damage. How could you be so stupid as to–”
“I needed healing items for my team,” Akira repeated harshly. He was getting defensive now, pulling himself up to full height to physically counter the way Goro was boxing him in. “Those drugs were better than anything the pharmacy had–”
“So you subjected yourself to unlicensed, unlawful human experimentation by that– that absolute creep of a woman?!”
“It was fine, Goro!” Akira raised his voice in a way he rarely allowed, throwing his arms out to the side as though inviting Goro to look closer. “I’m fine! No harm done! The worst side effect I experienced that whole time was losing consciousness for a few hours!”
“You what?!”
It wasn’t an angry shout. It was alarmed, scared. Goro’s voice lost steam as he stared at him unblinkingly. “You, you lost consciousness while you were alone with her…? Akira, she could have– she didn’t–”
Realization of what Goro was trying to say was like a bucket of ice over his whole body. “No.” Akira said it sternly, but he couldn’t help the twisting in his stomach. “No, no no, she didn’t do anything. Look, no matter what you’ve ever thought about me or my decisions back then, I was not an idiot or naive. If it’d been clear her tests would have caused real harm, I wouldn’t have done them. And I had Morgana with me, in my bag. He told me all she did was keep an eye on me until I came to, double checking my pulse and blood pressure. That's it.”
Goro seemed unconvinced. For Akira, this whole conversation was dredging up a lot of old emotions, and something raw and buried began to claw its way to the surface, carrying heat with it. “Listen, Goro. She might be a bit of a creepy flirt, but when you’re in as impossible a situation as we were, you take what help you can get. And she was not my only confidant to have that particular character flaw, or even the worst one. Luckily, she never once stepped over that line. And besides, I owe her a lot, considering that she was the one that patched me up after that fucking interrogation room!”
Goro flinched away like Akira had physically slapped him, and Akira felt his heart seize with instant regret. The two of them had what could best be described as an unspoken agreement – they didn’t talk about the interrogation room, they didn’t talk about the engine room, they didn’t bring up Shido or Maruki or Wakaba or the mental shutdown cases. They didn’t touch those old wounds, all too happy to ignore them and hope they just faded away like the rest of their scars rather than fester and rot. Akira shut his eyes for a moment and took a deep, steadying breath before carefully approaching him again. “Look, Goro. I know that what I did – and what she did – was reckless and stupid. But it was no more reckless or stupid than rushing out to save the kid of a former Yakuza, or facing off against a literal mob boss. Or going into Mementos alone with someone I knew was planning to try to kill me.” Goro didn’t react this time, still avoiding his gaze by staring intensely at the far wall of the station. “But all of that happened and, and in the end, I made it out okay. I’m still here. It all worked out, and now she’s just my mildly inappropriate flirt of a neighbor who supplies my yearly flu shot.”
A long silence passed between them. Akira watched him carefully, holding his breath, praying that Goro wasn’t too pissed, that whatever this whole discussion was wasn’t about to ruin the whole evening.
“You’re right,” Goro finally said, and Akira was startled by just how flat and empty his voice sounded. He just stared out over the train tracks with that distant, closed-off gaze. “You’re right. You’re fine. Everything’s fine.”
It was very much the tone of everything not being fine.
Akira sighed and rubbed his face, not sure what else he could say or do to remedy this situation. He felt like he was missing something, something important, but he had no idea what. They just stood there in awkward silence until he heard the scrape of brakes down the tunnel. Saved by the train.
The car they stepped into wasn’t very full, but they both elected to stay standing anyway, sharing a pole to keep themselves upright as the train lurched forward toward Shibuya. Akira kept stealing glances at Goro, concern growing with each passing moment in which Goro’s expression remained glazed over and pinched like that. But Akira chose not to say anything, not sure what to say or do to fix this, not even really sure why Goro was even acting this way to begin with. Maybe he just needed some time to cool down.
After a little while, the call for Shibuya rang over the loudspeaker. Goro moved his way toward the door, Akira following right behind. As they stepped out onto the platform, Akira turned to head toward what he knew was their connecting train, but quickly realized Goro had failed to do the same. Instead, the other boy was walking straight for the stairs, pulling out his phone but not looking at it.
“Goro?” Akira asked carefully. When Goro didn’t respond and began to ascend the flight of stairs, Akira swore under his breath and hurried to follow. “Goro!” he called out after him, taking the stairs two at a time to draw up to his side. “Look I guess I pissed you off somehow but I don’t know why you’re–”
Akira felt his argument fizzle out as he saw Goro’s pale face, saw his thousand-yard stare “Goro?” he asked carefully, but Goro didn’t seem to hear him. He just kept walking, cutting between the crowd more on reflex than anything.
Akira’s stomach plunged into ice as he realized what was happening - Goro was functioning entirely on autopilot. Dissociating. He couldn’t hear him.
Oh. That wasn’t good.
Akira followed warily, moving between the crowd so he kept up with the other, frantically trying to figure out what to do, how to prevent things from getting worse. Goro went up an escalator and moved past the underground mall, heading toward a familiar relatively-out-of-the-way alcove, looking down at his phone, just staring at it like he expected to see something but didn’t.
It was one of the places where they’d slip into and out of Mementos together. Goro was, by instinct or memory, trying to get back there, but he couldn’t. The MetaNav was gone. Has been gone for nearly two years now.
“Goro?” Akira asked again. He reached out to grasp him gently on the shoulder, and the moment his hand made contact, despite the touch being soft and cautious, Goro suddenly lurched away with a shout, eyes wide and wild.
“Get away! Don’t touch me!” he wheezed, crumpling against the wall and curling into himself. Eyes wide, flicking around the space but not really seeing anything. Not seeing Akira, only danger. “Don’t touch me, don’t touch me, stay away!”
Alarm bells rang in Akira’s head at the sheer panic on Goro’s face. At Goro’s heaving breaths, and under them the soft muttering of “I don’t want to, please don’t make me.”
Oh. Oh shit.
He wasn’t just dissociating. This was a full-blown flashback.
This wasn’t the first time Akira witnessed this kind of reaction in Goro. He’d seen something similar a few months ago, when Leblanc’s TV suddenly showed Shido’s photo during a news segment, and Goro had just… stopped dead mid-sentence and didn’t react to anyone for a solid five minutes. But even then, the reaction hadn’t been this severe. He just eventually snapped out of it and removed himself from the situation by going upstairs, had taken the steps he knew he needed to avoid a meltdown. But this, this was a whole new level of concerning, and Akira wasn’t sure what was going on, what might have triggered this, why this flashback hit so hard and so suddenly and so violently.
“Goro,” Akira said carefully, calmly, holding his hands up placatingly and trying to make eye contact, but Goro just kept looking right through him. “Goro it’s okay, it’s just me, Akira. I’m not going to hurt you.”
Goro was just shaking his head, staring out somewhere past Akira’s elbow and curling into the wall even more, still muttering to himself.
“Goro. Whatever you’re seeing or experiencing, it’s in the past. It’s October 2018. Shido’s in jail and the Metaverse is gone. It’s been gone for over a year. You don’t have to fight anyone anymore. You’re okay, Crow. You’re safe. I won’t let anyone hurt you..”
Calling him Crow seemed to do something. A spark of recognition, eyes shifting to him, some of the focus returning. After a few ragged, labored breaths, he slowly seemed to grow more present. “Joker…?” he rasped weakly.
“Yeah. That’s me,” Akira said, forcing a small smile and willing his own voice not to shake. God, he wanted nothing more than to reach out to Goro, to comfort him, to hold him even, to fix whatever the hell was going on in his head. “You’re okay, Crow. Everything’s okay. I promise.”
“I…” Goro looked around, took in his surroundings, blinking hard as though unable to believe what his eyes were seeing. He looked down at his phone again. “The MetaNav is gone,” he said quietly, more to himself than anything. As though reminding himself. “It’s gone. They won’t… they can’t use me anymore.”
Akira swallowed hard, forcing himself to breathe. Goro was back to himself but clearly not well. Akira slowly began to realize that they were drawing attention from passersbys in the underground.
“Let’s get out of here,” Akira said softly, holding a hand out to touch Goro but stopping just short. “Can I… can I touch you? Just on the arm here?”
Goro still wasn’t quite looking at him, but at least his attention seemed focused in his general direction. Goro gave a small, impassive nod, and Akira gingerly rested his hand on his upper arm and guided him away from the platforms and stairs and into the underground mall. He knew of a good spot out of the way by Rafflesia where he knew no one would bother them. Goro proceeded to crouch down on his heels, head between his knees, looking not too dissimilar from Futaba curling into a ball.
“...going to need a few minutes…” Goro muttered, still sounding out of breath.
“Take your time,” Akira murmured. He wanted so badly to pet Goro’s head the way he did with Futaba during her panic attacks, but had a feeling that wouldn’t go over so well. Akira just had no idea what to do, so he just crouched beside him, letting himself be a barrier between Goro and the rest of the world.
“Talk to me,” Goro spoke up after a moment.. A shaking hand reached for him, grabbing for Akira’s as a ragged breath made Goro’s shoulders rise then fall again. “Why are we in Shibuya? Just– just talk to me… help me back…”
“Okay,” Akira said softly, settling himself closer so their shoulders touched, holding Goro’s hand more naturally so their fingers interlocked. Grounding techniques, that must be what Goro needed. “Okay, okay, I can do that.”
They crouched there for a long while as Akira just rambled quietly, talking about their day, about their outing, about how Goro got them tickets to this show. About how Goro was doing online school to finish his third year and graduate, about how Akira was taking a gap year and working for Sojiro. And all along he kept hold of Goro’s clammy hand, reveling in the closeness of the two of them, right now, in this moment. The fact Goro trusted him like this, after everything they’d been through.
At long last, Goro stirred, lifting his head and rubbing his face, blinking as though to clear spots out of his eyes. He twisted his hand in Akira’s, seemingly unwilling to let go but wanting to get a peek of his watch. His face scrunched in clear self-recrimination. “We, we should go if we want to get there on time,” he said, his voice still weak and unsteady.
“Do you still want to go?” Akira asked carefully. “It’s okay if you–”
Goro’s eyes snapped to him, and for the first time since they left Yongen-Jaya there was that hint of a challenging spark that Akira savored every time he witnessed it. “Are you out of your fucking mind, Kurusu? I paid twenty-thousand yen apiece for those tickets. I’ve been wanting to see this show for years. We’re not missing it even if I were bleeding to death, you hear me?”
Akira just laughed quietly. “Yessir.” He got to his feet and pulled Goro up with him. The other boy still looked a little unsteady, grabbing Akira for a moment to regain his balance. He took a deep breath and then began to walk, hand still holding onto Akira’s until they got back among the crowds again.
The play was better than Akira had anticipated – it was Goro’s favorite, after all, though Akira’s enjoyment of it was moderately hindered by the gaps in his own comprehension of English (and it was even more difficult with the characters singing with accents, darnit). Akira honestly barely paid attention to what was on-stage, instead he spent the whole play hyper-aware of Goro sitting beside him. On how tense the other still seemed, how his eyes would grow distant like he wasn’t paying attention to the play either, how quiet he’d been during intermission when Akira was sure ordinarily he’d be a vibrating ball of energy and fun facts and complaints about this or that about his favorite musical.
Akira didn’t like it. He didn’t like that Goro’s mood was so dampened tonight. He didn’t like that this night wasn’t as perfect as it could have been, should have been, and he wished he knew how to fix it.
And then, at the climax of the show, when characters were dying extravagantly and emotions were high, he was horrified to find that Goro was openly crying, tears sparkling in tracks down his cheeks in the lights of the stage and his shoulders shaking a little.
“Goro,” he whispered, but Goro just shook his head and ducked to hide his face. Akira pulled out his pocket square to hand over, and Goro took it without question, buried his face into it as Akira carefully rubbed his shoulder. Goro leaned into him, and Akira let his temple rest on Goro’s head. “It’s okay…” he murmured softly into Goro’s ear.
Fortunately, Goro calmed down by the end, applauding politely with everyone else as the cast took their bows. Akira couldn’t help noticing Goro still seemed distant as he gathered his playbill and jacket and stood.
“Did the play live up to your expectations?” Akira asked quietly as they were herded with the crowd out the exits and into the cooling night air.
Goro nodded mutely. “It was exactly as incredible as I’d always hoped it was.” His gaze was still a little clouded over, and his nose still a little red from his emotions. “Sorry,” he said quietly.
“It’s okay. You are human, after all.”
Goro didn’t scowl, or scoff, or any other Goro-like response. His lip quirked slightly. “Yeah. Suppose I am.”
Akira wanted to grab his hand. Wanted to hug him. Wanted to brush away the wayward strand of hair that was wafting in an awkward direction. But there were too many people for that kind of affectionate display. “I know we had talked about dinner, but if you’re not up for that, we could go grab coffee at Leblanc?” he asked instead as they paused in front of the theater, under the streetlights of Ueno. Goro shook his head with a visible flinch. “Or, do you think you’re done for the night? I understand if you are.”
Goro shook his head again, more furtively this time. “I don’t want to stop our night, but I just…” His voice trailed off, and he looked around for a moment. “How about a walk? The park’s nearby.” He glanced at his watch. “It should still be open.”
“If that’s what you want,” Akira said gently, with a small smile. “I’m down.”
Goro smiled genuinely for the first time since they left Yongen-Jaya as they headed toward the park.
The park was just a block away, large and open, more decorative landscaping than anything more recreational. It contained some shrines, some museums, and some sculptural monuments. The sun had set while they were in the play, lights now dotting the walkways and grounds. They walked in companionable silence for a while, close enough that their hands and shoulders regularly brushed, and each time they did it caused electricity to shoot up Akira’s nerves. Though the electric feeling was dampened by knowing just how subdued Goro was, how quiet and withdrawn he was being. It twisted his chest.
Somehow they ended up sitting on a bench out of sight of the main walking path, sitting close enough that their thighs and shoulders touched. Goro’s shoulders were hunched a little, elbows on his knees, as though weighed down by his thoughts. Akira wanted to ask, but also wanted to give him space. He hoped his presence would be enough, and that Goro - this new Goro, free from Shido’s thumb, free from thoughts of revenge, back from death and living for himself for oncel – would be willing to share what was going on.
All Akira knew was that this all started with Tae-sensei’s comments. Goro’s reactions immediately after could only be explained by several possible traumatic experiences in Goro’s past, and Akira didn’t want any of them to be true.
After a long time just staring out at the shadowed landscaping, Goro sighed, hanging his head.
“I’m sorry,” Goro finally murmured. “I ruined our date night.”
“You don’t have to be sorry. And it’s not ruined.” Mustering up bravery in a way he hadn’t since he was regularly called Joker, he gently took hold of one of Goro’s hand and lifted it to his lips, laying a gentle kiss to his knuckles. Goro just stared at him with open disbelief, even as Akira set their hands down, still cradling his, running his thumb over Goro’s knuckles. “I’m just glad to be here with you.” Just glad you’re here at all, he thought to himself, feeling the phantom pang of loss in his heart that still lingered even after all this time.
Goro’s lip twitched with the beginnings of a smile, but it didn’t take hold. He looked away again, but his forehead crinkled the same way it did when he was debating his next move in chess.
“You don’t have to tell me anything you aren’t ready to,” Akira assured quietly, squeezing his hand.
Goro released a breath and closed his eyes for a moment, and there was a noticeable release of tension in his shoulders, but he shook his head. When he spoke, his voice wavered a little. “I want to… I, I think I need to…” He swallowed hard. “I… never thought I’d ever talk to anyone about this… Never had anyone who…”
He didn’t finish that sentence, but Akira could fill in the blanks. I never had anyone who cared enough to know. Who I thought I could trust with this. Akira’s heart thumped painfully in his own chest as he watched Goro struggle with the words.
“That doctor… what she called you…” He swallowed hard, making his Adam’s apple bob noticeably. His eyes remained fixed somewhere in the middle distance. “It’s one of the nicknames they used to call me…”
A slow freezing horror gripped Akira’s chest and squeezed, stealing air out of his lungs. Guinea pig. “They…?” he repeated numbly.
“Shido’s research team… Back when, when I first got my powers. When we first crossed paths. They… all of his team’s research was done through me…” His expression grew clouded and cold. “I was their little guinea pig. Their lab rat. ‘Our magical little test subject.’”
Akira found himself tightening his hold on Goro’s hand, unable to speak. He understood Goro’s reaction now, how alarmed and impassioned he’d been about just the thought of someone taking advantage of Akira through unethical medical experiments. He didn’t want to begin to imagine what a cognitive psientist in Shido’s employ could possibly consider doing with access like that. Hell, it probably also explained a fraction of Goro’s hatred of Maruki (beyond the obvious).
And then, something clicked, and an even deeper horror crashed through him. “Wakaba Isshiki…” he whispered.
Goro flinched, turning his head away. He nodded slowly. “Yeah, she… she was one of the project leads… ‘Lab Rat’ was her go-to name for me.” He took a shuddering breath, turning his head back toward Akira but still unable to look him in the eye. “She… I guess she developed a conscience about it by the end, was prepared to destroy all of her research and rat the whole operation to the authorities. It’s why Shido targeted her first. But by then the damage had been done, she’d been as complicit as anyone else… it was all too easy to convince me to turn on her after everything they put me through…”
Akira just gaped in numb disbelief, holding Goro’s hand in both of his. “What did they…?” he whispered.
A wet scoff of a laugh leapt from Goro’s chest. “I can’t…” he croaked, his head falling so his hair hid his face. “Akira, I can’t…”
“That’s okay, that’s okay,” Akira said quickly, pressing himself closer, as though to provide as much comfort as he could without outright hugging Goro - he had a feeling that would only feel restrictive to the other man. He could feel slight trembles where their bodies connected, could hear Goro’s shallow breaths. He rubbed a hand on Goro’s forearm, still holding his hand with the other. “You don’t have to tell me any specifics.”
Goro took some measured breaths. “All I can say is that, at night, the nightmares that plague me most aren’t from the day I shot you, or from the engine room, or even discovering my mom’s dead body. It’s from that year of experiments…” An unhinged sort of weak laugh burbled from his chest as he blinked up at the clouded night sky. “It’s no doubt 75% the reason I’m as fucked up as I am.”
Again, Akira didn’t know what to say. All he wanted to do was hold Goro to his chest and never let him go. “I’m so sorry,” Akira whispered.
“What the hell for?” Goro asked, looking at him for the first time, eyes shining from unshed tears. “You had nothing to do with any of it.”
“I’m sorry you went through that. I’m sorry that I… came along far too late to do anything to help you.”
Goro snorted, looking away. “Sentimental idiot. You and your bleeding heart and penchant for rescuing people…”
“You needed someone like the Phantom Thieves looking out for you,” Akira said sincerely. “Or even someone on your side like Sojiro.” He sighed. “If only we could have met a few years sooner,” he whispered, parroting words Goro had once told him nearly two years ago.
“If only,” Goro agreed softly. He leaned into Akira and rested his head against Akira’s shoulder, releasing a heavy, shaking breath. “Now that that’s out of the way, tell me what you thought about the show.”
Akira hummed with a little smile – he knew a pleading to change the topic when he heard it, and was so proud of Goro for opening up as much as he had. He leaned his cheek against the top of Goro’s head and obliged him, murmuring softly about what he understood about the show, his favorite character, his favorite song. Goro’s responses were still much more muted and withdrawn than normal, but Akira just relished in the fact the two of them were sitting here together at all, each of them having gone through vastly different versions of hell and then back again, surviving against all odds and finding each other once more. It was enough. It was everything.