Chapter Text
One of the good things about not owning a lot of furniture, Goro had thought while Ryuji was bashing his old television in with a bat, is that moving is less of a hassle.
There were only a select few items that Goro wanted to really hold onto: exactly four books from his bookshelf, a snowglobe Futaba had given him, and a stuffed bear that Akira had given him in a sweeping romantic gesture the other week. That was it.
Of course, he also held onto more practical things, including his futon as well as all of the silverware and cups and plates and so forth that he owned. He also kept his clothes, obviously, and his toothbrush and laundry detergent and similar items. They packed these things into some cardboard boxes that Sojiro previously used for the cafe—the sides read APPLES! in huge, bubbly font—and taped the flaps shut with flimsy postage tape because they didn’t have anything else on hand.
As they were leaving, Ann had asked, do you want, um, one last moment with your apartment? and Goro had replied, no, because he didn’t want to think about how horrendously miserable he had been while living in that place. On the way out, though, Goro turned around one last time and frowned at how empty the walls and floors looked. He frowned at the apartment in general.
And then he shut the door.
They let Ryuji smash the television in the back lot next to the dumpster because he had been begging to do so, and because no plans were made to actually keep the television. There wasn’t space for it, anyway.
That was all good fun; he had never seen anyone smash a television before. Ryuji let Goro have a few swings, too. Catharsis, kind of!
By the time they were done with all of this, the sun was already starting to lower itself to the west. Akira texted in their groupchat (which Goro gets to be a part of now! He can’t believe it) that he was going to bring home dinner once he finished cleaning up at Leblanc, which was very nice and thoughtful.
And they’re eating said dinner right now. Or, well—Goro and Akira are eating the dinner. Ann and Ryuji finished quickly and then retreated into their respective rooms. Work tomorrow, Ryuji had explained.
Right.
Goro picks at the last few pieces of food in his bento. Akira is sitting next to him, resting his head in his hand and staring at Goro like he’s a gift given from heaven. Sometimes he does this; he gets all sappy and warm-eyed and impressively gentle. Goro is getting better at handling his own emotions when this happens, fortunately, because at first it made him feel very anxious.
It was over a month and a half ago that Akira had asked Goro to move in, and over a month and a half ago that Goro had agreed to do so. Since then, everyone in the apartment sans Goro himself have started up with college classes. It does make him feel just a little bit left out—or perhaps stupid might be a more appropriate word—but he’s trying to not think about it too hard. He’ll get to college, eventually. Hopefully.
It will be fine.
Akira lays a kind hand on Goro’s shoulder. “You look like you’re thinking really hard,” he says, giving a little smile. “Want to go for a walk?”
Goro looks to his food, then at Akira, then his food, and then back to Akira and nods and sighs. “That would be nice.”
They stand together and head for the door, leaving the bento abandoned on the table. Goro tells himself he’ll finish it when he gets back, because he feels bad being wasteful, and there isn’t much left anyway.
“Anywhere specific you want to go?” Akira asks, shutting the door behind them.
“Hm.” Goro thinks for about half a second. “No, wherever you want to go is fine.”
Akira says something that’s probably just the word okay, but Goro can’t hear it because they’re walking down the staircase and their footsteps are making a lot of echoing noises. When they reach the ground floor, Akira heads to the sidewalk and then up the sloping street. Goro doesn’t think he’s ever been this way, shockingly. It goes in the opposite direction of the train station.
Akira shoves his hands into his pockets. “Um, so… you doing okay?”
“I’m all right,” Goro says, uncharacteristically staring at the ground while they walk. “I think that I’m glad to be out of my apartment.”
“You think that you’re glad? Are you having doubts?”
“No, no.” Goro looks over to Akira. “I phrased that wrong. I’m definitely glad to be out of there. Sorry that I made you wait so long before I moved out all of my things, though. The lease—”
“You don’t have to apologize for that,” Akira interrupts. “Seriously, don’t worry.”
Goro laughs. “I’ll try very hard not to.”
They walk in silence for a short while, accompanied by nothing but the sounds of their own footsteps and the occasional passing car. They share so many comfortable silences now—silences that are immensely different from the awkward ones they used to have while riding in the elevators in Sae’s palace and while driving through Mementos.
And Akira has such a wonderfully calming presence. He’s gotten so good at reading Goro—no longer does he behave as though Goro is a bunch of broken eggshells on the floor. They’ve gotten so close—closer than anybody Goro has ever known.
Being with Akira used to be completely terrifying all the time, as if a tsunami warning alarm were constantly going off. It would feel as though they were going to stop talking to one another all at once. Goro was petrified of being abandoned. Nothing good ever happened to him before, so why did he have any reason to believe that there was something different this time around?
He’s glad he kicked that mindset in the teeth.
There’s nothing in the world that he would trade for Akira. Goro feels so perfectly in place when he is next to him. He feels so safe when Akira puts a knowing hand on his back; he feels so at home when he wears Akira’s clothes.
Goro feels at home. It’s strange.
“Thank you for dinner,” he says, struggling to find the words that he wants to actually say.
“Yeah.” Akira takes a step closer to Goro so that they can hook their arms together while they walk. “It’s kind of a thing we’ve been doing, you know? We have a schedule of who’s supposed to buy dinner depending on the day of the week.”
“Oh? Am I—am I a part of that now?”
“Probably.” Akira swings their arms. “You did only just move in today, though, so I think you’ve been given at least a week off.”
“Aha. Right. I suppose I’m a little overeager.”
“Overeager?”
Goro nods. “Mmm. To… um, prove myself, maybe? Something like that.”
“You don’t…” Akira shakes his head and sighs, “you don’t have to prove yourself to any of us, Goro. We’re all friends already.”
Goro gives no response to this. Instead he stops walking, making sure to not disconnect himself from Akira’s grip. He tries very hard to search for the right words again but otherwise stands silently, unsure what to do.
Akira waits patiently. His eyes show concern.
“Um, Akira,” Goro mumbles, turning to face him directly, “hello.”
Akira laughs lightly. “Hi, Goro. Are you sure you’re okay?”
Goro looks at him—he looks into those strange deep grey gunmetal eyes—and smiles. The sun has almost completely set now, and the remaining splash of sunlight curls over the backside of Akira’s body, enveloping him in a wonderful, wonderful hue. “I’m okay,” he whispers. “I love you.”
The words are out before Goro can even process them. He hasn’t said I love you to anybody at all in the past twelve years of his life, perhaps more—and for so long Goro thought that the emotion was lost to him.
Akira doesn’t waver. His face does not fall; his eyes do not darken. Instead, instead, instead, he takes one of Goro’s hands into both of his own and holds it tenderly. “I love you too,” he says, sharing the smile. .
Goro wants to cover up his face with his hands because this, admittedly, feels like somewhat of an embarrassing moment simply because of the implied vulnerability. But he isn’t going to, he has decided, because that would look lame; also, Akira has nice warm hands and Goro does not.
Akira even says as much. “Your hands are super cold.”
“They’re always like that,” Goro chuckles, nervous.
“Always?”
“Yes. Sometimes I run hot water and hold my hands underneath the faucet for a minute so that they can warm up.”
“You do? ”
“I usually only do that in the winter when it’s colder.” Goro uses his free hand to push up Akira’s glasses higher onto his nose. “Did I tell you that you look very good in glasses?”
“Uh huh, a time or two.”
“Well.” Goro removes his hand. “You look very good in glasses.”
“Wanna try them on?” Akira asks, already having removed his glasses by the time he finishes his sentence. He oh-so-gingerly places them on Goro’s face and then steps back, as if to admire a painting.
“Your eyesight isn’t that bad,” Goro comments. “How do I look?”
“Not like me. I think that they really suit your face, though.”
“Do they?” Goro pulls out his phone and opens up the camera to see what he looks like. He’s trying not to be vain about it, but the glasses do look nice on him.
“Yeah.” Akira snatches the phone from Goro’s hand and laughs. “Now take a picture with me!”
Akira asking to take a photo proved to be very distracting. There’s about one hundred new pictures in Goro’s camera roll—some videos, some images of grass, many photos of Akira—and it’s nearly out of battery. They do, of course, make it back to the apartment eventually, but not until the sun has completely disappeared and the sky has gone dark.
The first thing Goro does when they get back is re-heat the bento and finish eating it. Akira splits it with him because he said that he was hungry again, which was helpful. Afterwards they both tidy up the stuff strewn all over the kitchen and then return to their room. Their.
Goro still hasn’t put any of his clothes away. This is mainly because Akira’s room is an absolute mess.
“I should probably clean,” Akira says, scratching the back of his neck and looking around at his floor.
Goro kneels down next to his box of stuff and works on ripping open the flaps. “Maybe you should consider getting rid of a couple of things. I only ever see you wearing the same seven articles of clothing.”
“Yeah, probably. The only issue is that I keep getting more and more lazy as the days go on.”
“Haven’t college classes just started?”
“School makes me lazy! I can’t help that the minute I have responsibilities I don’t want to do anything.” Pause. “And anyway—are you planning on putting away your clothes tonight? Because I’m kind of tired, and—“
“No, no, I’m not putting anything away.” Goro reaches into the box and fumbles around for a few seconds before pulling out a pair of socks. “I just wanted these.”
“Socks?” Akira raises an eyebrow. “You could have worn some of mine.”
“But I wanted these,” Goro says, standing up, socks in hand. He sits on the edge of the bed, removes his current pair of socks and replaces them with the nicer fleece pair he’s taken out.
Akira watches, face incredulous.
They change, then, and attempt to clean up for about three minutes. This doesn’t last very long because they get extremely sidetracked with each other; one moment Goro is folding a pair of pants, and the next he is on Akira’s lap, breathless, kissing him, hands searching underneath his shirt.
This happens every now and then, but they eventually stop and brush their teeth and get changed and lie down quietly because Ann and Ryuji are still awake. Goro can hear them—they’ve been watching a movie in another room.
Once they’re all settled in and have thoroughly tangled their legs together, Akira throws an arm around Goro and sighs. “Today was good,” he says. “So thank you.”
Goro pulls the blanket up to his chin. “Is that so?”
“Yeah. I’ve been all stressed about college stuff, so it was nice to… chill out, I guess.”
“Mmmm.”
“And I’m glad you’re moved in now,” Akira adds. “I was honestly worried that you would get cold feet and back out. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, obviously, but—”
“I was worried about that too,” Goro admits.
“Really?”
The idea had loomed over Goro’s head the entire time he had waited to move in. He would shower and think what if I back out? He would go to bed and think what if I back out? He would go for walks and think what if I back out? It was as if he was waiting for and anticipating that he would change his mind and choose to live in his apartment-of-misery for the rest of time.
In the end, it was nothing but a hypothetical, as are many of Goro’s thoughts. “Yes, really,” he says.
“Well… like I said, I’m glad you went through with it. Err… you bring a lot of light into my life.”
It’s things like this that always leave Goro stupidly speechless. He laughs, unsure of how to respond.
“Sorry, was that too sappy?”
Goro shakes his head. “No, just unexpected.”
“Oh. That’s understandable.” Pause. “It’s true, though. I think that… you’ve really helped me grow.”
“The feeling is mutual,” Goro says, voice strained.
“And… I know that a while ago I was saying all those things about potentially never being able to forgive you. But I’ve done some thinking about all of that.”
“Thinking?”
“Yeah.” Akira closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and then open them back up. “I think that for the sake of both of us, we should put it behind us entirely. I know how much grief it’s caused you—”
“Rightfully so,” Goro says, interrupting.
“—and it’s caused me a lot of grief, too. Because remember—I’m not in the clear either. We used you as part of our plan without considering the consequences.”
Goro says nothing. His eyes flick up to the ceiling, where he begins to count the glow-in-the-dark star stickers plastered all over the place.
“Um, anyway.” Akira sighs again. “I think that dwelling on it is causing more harm than good. So much has changed since then—between us and between everyone else—and it feels like letting it go and not worrying about forgiveness might be the best for both of us.”
“You’re proposing that we simply… act like nothing happened?” Goro frowns at the ceiling. “I don’t understand.”
“That’s not exactly what I’m saying. I’m saying that… we should stop actively thinking about it so much, you know? Like, acknowledgement is fine, but if we keep letting it eat at us, then…”
“Yeah,” Goro agrees. “ I know what you’re saying.”
And he’s being truthful. They have both been ruminating on The-Events-From-A-Few-Years-Ago for far too long, and it has certainly feels like it has done them more harm than good. They’re adults now—they know how to best work out their problems and will continue to learn and know how. What’s more is that they’ve discussed the past half a thousand times now.
It should be put to rest. Goro knows that it should be put to rest.
“So… do you think we should do that?” Akira asks, nudging Goro with his elbow.
Part of Goro wants to consider this proposition for a few more minutes, but the other version of him knows how risky of an idea that is. “Yes, I think we should do that. I think that it would probably be the best, all other options considered.”
“Truthfully, I’m not even sure what the other options would be, besides to continue feeling miserable about it all.”
“You’re right,” Goro says. He wonders, briefly, when the first time he said you’re right to Akira was. Was it during a simple conversation at Leblanc? Was it in Sae’s palace? Was it just before that, when they were coming up with a plan?
He can’t remember, but it doesn’t matter. He’s getting sidetracked. “I’m glad that we can finally… resolve this, I suppose.”
“I’m not sure if it’s resolution so much as like, finally being sensible about the passage of time and stuff,” Akira says. “But in a way, I guess that it is being settled.”
“You’re very smart,” Goro blurts. He blinks at himself. That wasn’t what he had meant to say.
Akira seems lost. “Huh?”
“I mean—ugh. Do you remember when I first met you?”
“Yeah, at the television studio or whatever that place was.”
“Mmm. Yes, that place. I truthfully thought that you were too naive to be smart, back then.”
Akira shifts to completely face him. The room is dark, but Goro can still see how wide with shock his eyes have gotten. “Wh—I figured you thought I was cool and intelligent because I was speaking my mind! Or something.”
“I did, partially. It’s hard to explain. Can I tell the story?”
Akira laughs. “Sure, yeah, sorry.”
“Thank you.” Goro clears his throat. “I severely underestimated your intelligence. But I see now that in many regards, you’re much smarter than all of the Phantom Thieves combined, myself included.”
“You’re just saying that,” Akira mumbles. Goro can picture the blush on his face.
“Would I ever give such a genuine compliment without a reason? I’m being serious, Akira. I’ve learned a lot from you. More than anybody or anything else, I think.”
“I could say the same about you, though.”
“Maybe. My sentiments remain the same regardless.”
Akira laughs, then, and Goro isn’t sure why but doesn’t mind either way. “I know,” he says. “Can we kiss now? Or should I say something heartfelt—“
“You already did,” Goro whispers, and then leans to kiss Akira.
The next evening finds Akira, Ann, Ryuji and Goro eating dinner together again, kind of. They’re having ice cream and sitting on the puny balcony outside Ann’s room—though, truthfully, it doesn’t really count as a balcony; it’s more like a small ledge with a wall meant for one person to stand and smoke cigarettes on, but whatever. Somehow they have managed to fit all four of them on it so it doesn’t matter.
Goro thinks about how this is something that he has never done before. He has never had ice cream for dinner—not before he met Akira, at least. He has also never had ice cream for dinner while precariously sitting on the ledge of a balcony.
The world is good, maybe. Goro would like to give life a try for real this time around. He doesn’t want to waste it. He isn’t going to waste it, either, not when he’s been given ice cream and balconies and sunsets and Akira’s flannels and Ryuji laughing at his jokes and so on and so forth. For the first time ever, Goro has things that are entirely his own.
He could not imagine giving them up.
It’s almost as though Goro has been given a second chance. Not by Akira or the rest of the Phantom Thieves, but by himself—Goro has given himself a second chance. The playing field is no longer uneven; it is smooth and clear and has a direction, even if said direction isn’t precise yet.
It’ll be good to move on, Goro reminds himself. This will be good.
He feels lucky, almost, but not quite. Luck has always been an Akira thing, a fool thing, it hasn’t ever been something suited for Goro. Perhaps what Goro has is his years-old true justice that he had previously long gave up finding. Perhaps he has been reunited with that justice.
Whatever it is, Goro is happy to have it. He’s sick of thinking about everything so intensely—it has done nothing for him but cause more problems. He’s been misleading himself his whole life—overanalyzing everything does not lead to safety. If anything, it does the complete opposite.
Goro digs his spoon into his ice cream and has a bite, contemplative.
“Man, it’s gonna get cold soon,” Ryuji says, sounding utterly defeated. He’s sitting on the floor, legs pretzeled together in a manner that definitely looks uncomfortable.
Ann frowns. “Not really. It’s not even autumn yet.”
“Yeah, but you know what I mean. Summer’s almost over! Classes have started!”
“I know what you mean,” Goro says, because he does. “I don’t like the cold.”
“That’s because your circulation sucks,” Akira replies while moving to grip Goro’s hand.
“And yet he’s eating ice cream,” Ann mumbles. Everyone pretends not to hear it.
Ryuji, however, raises his arms in almost-triumph. “See! Goro knows what I’m talking about.”
Ann huffs in mock-frustration. “I still think that there’s plenty of time left.”
“Can we stop talking about the weather? I’m trying to eat my ice cream,” Akira says, nonsensically. Goro notes that he’s already finished eating.
“What would you want to talk about instead?” Goro asks.
“Uh, I dunno.” Akira pauses, briefly playing around with his spoon. “Something cheesy?”
“Are you asking whether or not you can say something cheesy?” Ann raises an eyebrow.
“I want to talk about something cheesy!” Akira affirms, holding his spoon into the air like a baton as he speaks. “So listen up.”
Everyone stops moving.
“This, uh… this year has been a year of growth. I feel like I’ve been stuck for a while, emotionally, I guess, and… uh. Don’t laugh at me! This is too awkward.” Akira sighs and starts over. “I love you guys! I love being able to live with you all and, uh, I love being able to support you.”
“We love you too, man,” Ryuji says, trying to knock Akira on the knee but not reaching.
“Thanks, Ryuji.” Akira smiles. “You guys… all make me a better person.”
“Me too,” Ann says.
“Me too,” Ryuji says.
“Me too,” Goro whispers, leaning in to kiss Akira because he can do that now—he can do it almost any time that he wants!
Ann and Ryuji laugh in the background as they kiss and Goro tries not to cry. He gives up trying, though, when Akira pulls back and reveals that his eyes are full of tears.
Goro cries and laughs and cries because he is alive for the very first time.