Archive of Our Own

Goro Akechi wasn't the sort of person to abuse the mental powers he had been gifted with since he was born.

Not because it was the right thing to do or some righteous crap like that, no.

Because his mother told him not to.

So instead of giving Suguru Kamoshida the beating of a lifetime with the school's entire supply of volleyballs he was so in love with, Goro did nothing.

He did nothing when he met Suzui crying in the corridors of Shujin Academy.

He did nothing when Sakamoto got provoked so much, he attacked the teacher and got the entire track team disbanded and his leg broken by the hands of the teacher.

He did nothing when the rumours of Takamaki dating her teacher got louder and louder.

He did nothing when he saw Mishima with bruises covering his entire body.

And he did nothing when the new, pretty exchange student came in with immediate rumours of a criminal record of some sort spreading like a wild-fire.

Doing anything hadn't been necessary by then. Only shortly after, Kamoshida had broken down sobbing and pleading in front of the entire school, confessing his countless crimes and offering sweetly to kill himself.

“Go ahead,” he had wanted to say but Takamaki had thought differently.

And he supposed that was really up to her.

Goro lay awake for a long time that following night, thinking back and forth to what could've motivated Kamoshida to do what he had done and he came to only one logical conclusion: He could not possibly be the only kid with these sort of powers.

He'd always known there were others, of course. There had to be. His mum had warned him of research that had been stolen, of people out there who knew his name connected with telekinesis. People out there like him. It was dangerous. They had done everything in their power to help Goro control his abilities and live a normal life without anyone knowing. Someone coming in who potentially could expose him...

No. He'd be fine. He'd find out who it was and make himself clear in anyway he could.

Time to investigate, then.

Goro grinned into his pillow and put on his imaginary detective cap.

“Well, I'm glad you seemed to have changed your mind.” Maruki sounded puzzled at best, as he stuck his head out of his office and found Goro on the other side of the door. “I have to say, after your rather... fiery rejection last time, I did not expect you to come around to therapy after all.”

Ah yes, that. Goro may or may not have told him to stick his counselling to where the sun never shined.

“My mum asked me to,” Goro replied, the lie coming easy – his mother had long given up on trying to get him to open up to people about his powers (or anything else). “She thought it'd be best if I at least tried.”

“She sounds like a smart woman,” replied Maruki cheerfully.

Goro had never liked the babbling idiot.

“Unlike other people I know,” he offered sweetly, challenging Maruki to address the implication in the air.

He ignored it.

“I'm wrapping up a session right now. If you like, you're free to wait so we can talk afterwards.”

“Of course,” Goro said, gracious as he was and sat down on a chair outside his office. He waited until Maruki had closed the door softly behind himself and heard his steps lead away from the door, then narrowed his eyes in focus and gently, so gently, pressed down the handle with the power of his will, opening the door for a tiny creek.

Just enough to hear the soft words spoken behind the door.

Smiling, Goro leant back into his chair.

Alright.

So he abused his powers subtly.

(Like when he, instead of doing nothing, had put together a full file of evidence he was planning to use against Kamoshida, only to have that opportunity be snatched from his hands last minute, only to watch him break before his eyes and ruin months of hard work.)

“You're a special girl, Yoshizawa-san. It's only natural.... a lot of attention.”

Yoshizawa? Goro narrowed his eyes. He remembered the girl – a new transfer, like that annoying, adorable Kurusu guy, having arrived at roughly the same time. A charming, kind, quirky red-head with mad gymnastic skills and nothing but hate spread behind her back for getting extra treatment.

Special, huh?

It made sense – never had he noticed any trace of mental power at this school before all of this happened – Before Yoshizawa had transferred to their school.

He knew Maruki was one of the scientists who had looked into the mental power cases, of course. He knew that Maruki was likely to know the names of the rest of them, too.

He'd immediately latched onto Goro the day he had arrived at this school, had tried to drag him into therapy and “have a chat about your powers” time and time again, had assured him that his “secret” would be safe with him, that he just needed help for his research.

Goro had told him to go to hell, not trusting the man and his sudden appearance and interest in the matter for a second – he had no interest in being a madman's test subject.

Apparently, Yoshizawa had not been quite as smart.

“It's not very nice to eavesdrop, you know?”

Goro flinched, gaze flickering to the door that was now being gently shut by... Ah.

Akira Kurusu.

Goro's eternal thorn in his side.

From the day he'd joined Shujin, he had brought nothing but trouble with him. People were making up assaults left and right, coming to him as the student council president, claiming to be scared, claiming to have been harassed, wanting the “delinquent” gone – Goro's life had been so peaceful before any of that.

But Kurusu seemed so unaffected by all of it. His grades were good, despite him hanging out with Sakamoto and Takamaki. Kawakami seemed to like him. His trouble with Kamoshida had magically dissolved when he broke down and confessed his crimes, too...

And Goro - Goro hated him. He hated him for the attention he drew to himself. For the friends he had immediately made, friends with some of his own friends, even. The way everything seemed to come to him so effortlessly while Goro had to claw his way through life. All he had to do was bat his pretty, long eyelashes and...-

Goro scowled.

This was another unwelcome side-effect of Akira Kurusu's presence.

Goro couldn't stop thinking about him.

Ever since he first saw him, he'd taken over part of his mind. Sharp, grey eyes haunted his dreams, unwelcome, intrusive thoughts came to him whenever he saw him – Akira Kurusu pressed against a wall with Goro's tongue down his throat, Akira Kurusu kneeling before him with his cock down his throat, Akira Kurusu this, Akira Kurusu that.

Goro wanted to fuck him senseless see him dead.

“There can't be any talk of eavesdropping,” he said instead, perfectly pleasantly, determined not to show any sign of the chaotic storm of thoughts whenever he encountered the slim, fuckable boy. “It's hardly my fault they kept the door open.”

To his frustration, Kurusu seemed to be the only person he could never quite blind with his charm and polite sweetness the way he could everyone else. He just looked mildly amused, his eyebrows raised.

“Right.”

“Akechi-kun?” came Maruki's voice from the door. Yoshizawa stared at both of them with wide eyes, blushed and quickly rushed away.

Hm. Suspicious.

“I'd be ready for you now, if you like.”

Goro, to his eternal horror, saw how Kurusu's face contorted into clear amusement.

“Aw, you take therapy, Akechi-kun? How good for you!”

He was going to murder him. Tear him limb from limb, put him back together and then kiss that stupid smile off his face.

“Absolutely not,” he croaked towards Maruki, who blinked at him in stark confusion. “I don't know where you get that insane idea from.”

He turned around on the spot and walked off, relieved that he had already learned everything he needed to know from Maruki, anyway.

Sumire Yoshizawa.

He'd have to keep a close eye on her.

Even though Kurusu sure as hell was a lot more pleasant to look at.

Kurusu, whose eyes he still felt on him as he walked away, determined not to turn around, determined to shut up the stupidly attracted voice inside of his head.

The next day, Goro got a kiss goodbye from his mother, slammed the door shut in front of her from his seat on the breakfast table so she came back and gave him another and then went to school to stalk Sumire Yoshizawa.

Just normal teen things.

He was good at being inconspicuous, at least – far better than Yusuke Kitagawa was, at the very least.

While Goro conveniently opened locker-doors whenever he needed something to hide behind, made books fly out of people's hands to make them move to cover him and knew how to move in a manner that didn't draw any attention to the fact that he shouldn't be somewhere, Yusuke, well, he...

He didn't even seem to notice that he had been noticed.

He was holding his sketch book, eyes completely transfixed on Yoshizawa whenever Goro ran into him on the countless days keeping an eye on her (which was a lot), unaware of his surroundings – and absolutely oblivious to how uncomfortable he was making the poor girl.

Goro would, quite frankly, feel bad for her, if it wasn't for the fact that she hadn't shown any sign of unusual powers all week now and he was beginning to get increasingly frustrated at her.

Always quirky and always cheerful and always... always so kind and nice and unproblematic, as she roamed the corridors, talked to everyone (Akira) and helped where she could (training Akira) and befriended everyone (Akira) so easily.

“Oh hey,” Akira grinned as they met on Thursday after fifth period, when Goro, knowing that Yoshizawa was about to head to the gym again to show Akira some of her moves, was following them from a safe distance. “Come to watch again?”

“Watching what?” Goro asked instinctively, the lies coming to him as easy as the small talk he liked to lull his teachers in with. “I merely like to get my reading done in a quiet place during my free period.”

“So you pick the gym?” Akira was smirking. Why was he smirking? Why did he look so good cocky when he grinned, like he really needed to be pressed against a wall and had that smirk kissed wiped off his face?

God, Goro hated him.

“The gym's perfectly acceptable at that hour – no one but you and Yoshizawa-san is in there, which means I'll be left alone and am free of student council president duties – Something I am dearly in need of.”

“Aw,” Akira replied in that annoying, amused tone of his. “I didn't know you find my presence so relaxing.”

Fuck him, fuck him, fuck Akira, fuck-

Wait, when had he started thinking of him as Akira rather than Kurusu?

Goro opened his mouth, wrecking his brain for an appropriately snappy response and came up empty-handed – It was always like this around Akira. His thoughts got all scrambled up and confusing and convoluted and only half of the time did he feel like he had any control over them anymore.

“Well,” Goro finally said, catching something from the corner of his eyes, something so familiar he decided to lay down his weapons and try another approach. “I don't seem to be the only one.”

Akira followed his glance and the sigh he let out was less over-played than the teasing tone he put on when talking to Goro, a bit more sincere.

“He's.... persistent, gotta give him that.”

“Shouldn't we... maybe...? Talk to him?” Goro suggested quietly. “Make him understand that he's going a bit... overboard?”

“Sumire asked me not to,” Akira replied, eyes still on Yusuke. “She says he doesn't mean anything bad by it – which, yeah, I can tell but it's still not nice for her, you know? She doesn't want to cause any trouble, I know that but she's so...” He sighed heavily. “Well, I can just tell she's uncomfortable. Flattered, but...”

Goro glanced back to Akira, who didn't seem to notice. He was standing there with his hands in his pockets, eyes on Yusuke, who was watching Sumire warm up, short skirt and all, furiously scribbling on his notepad. “Honestly, I don't think he has a single sexual thought on his mind, ever.”

He did not, Goro knew that much.

“You're very perceptive.”

Akira shrugged, suddenly looking slightly awkward, eyes flinching to Goro and back again.

“I guess so.”

“I'll talk to him,” Goro assured him quietly.

Yusuke was the closest he had gotten on this rotten school to a friend. He didn't always understand social cues (and who could blame him, society played by so many unwritten rules, then constantly bent them for the more powerful people in this world), but he was a good guy. A good listener. A calming presence in his life.

“Oh, Akechi-senpai!” came the gratingly cheerful voice from behind him and when he turned, he saw Yoshizawa run up to them, red hair waving through the air. She looked stunning like this, ethereal almost. He could definitely see what Yusuke saw in her.

Though, as his intrusive thoughts liked to remind him in elaborate pictures, she wasn't quite on a level with Akira Kurusu, naked and writhing in sheets underneath Goro.

God, this had to end. He clearly had an over-active fantasy, when Akira was involved and it was getting concerning – A miracle, really, he could still look into those attentive grey eyes and...-

“Are you here to watch again?”

He blinked, having forgotten all about Yoshizawa until she stood directly in front of him, batting her pretty eyelashes (Akira's were longer) at him and beaming.

Feeling overwhelmed, Goro lifted his suddenly very weak excuse of a book.

“Just here for reading,” he croaked.

“Oh, that's a shame!” Yoshizawa laughed. “You could join us! I made a deal with Akira-senpai, you know? I'm teaching him some gymnastic moves and in return he teaches me Aikido.”

Goro turned to Akira, stunned.

“You know Aikido?”

Akira shrugged.

“Just the basics – I never had a proper teacher, I kinda taught myself, but I'd say I'm decent at it.”

Hm, Goro thought. Hot.

No, not hot. Weird.

Weirdly hot.

Fuck, he was a mess.

“Very well – I did learn the basics as well, with a proper teacher, however. I would love to see what you think you taught yourself.”

The corner's of Akira's lips twitched.

“Somehow, your words seem nice but something about the way you say it make them sound like one huge insult.”

Goro bit back the “So glad you noticed” already on the tip of his tongue and watched Akira's grin grow as if he'd heard it anyway.

He forced himself to one of his most beaming fake-smiles.

“Let's see what you've got, Kurusu.”

How could a person who had taught himself Aikido be so good at it? This was ridiculous. He was incredibly fast, avoiding all of Yoshizawa's (admittedly clumsy) attacks with incredible, if slightly unconventional grace, and then managed to throw her (gently) to the mat every single time.

Goro couldn't help but be impressed, even though he still fought the urge to gnash his teeth whenever Akira succeeded. The confusing mix of frustration and admiration was beginning to truly grate his nerves.

After the fifth time, Goro clapped, slow and loud, the sound echoing in the hall so loudly, even Yusuke was looking up from his drawing efforts to turn towards him. Akira's lips twitched to a grin.

“Not bad,” Goro announced coldly, getting up from his seat on the bench and stepping towards the scene. “Now let's see how you're doing against someone who had professional Aikido training for years, shall we?”

“You want me to fight you?” Akira said, like the condescending twat that he was.

Oh, Goro was going to ruin him.

“That's right – Unless you're scared?” He kept his voice perfectly sweet, just the way he loved to before tearing apart his opponents.

But Akira showed himself refreshingly unimpressed, merely raising an eyebrow, his confident grin never wavering.

“Let's do it.”

If life was a video game, Akira Kurusu would be one of those annoying players you could never land a hit on because he dodged expertly. He was fast, way too fast for Goro to keep up – instead of conventional moves, he often added his own, unnecessary flair on his dodges, though.

Hell, one time he almost did a whole fucking flip right over Goro's shoulders.

And Goro, Goro was having quite enough of making a fool of himself. Hearing Yoshizawa cheer for Kurusu and even Yusuke's gentle praises was beginning to stoke the flames in his chest, making Goro want to smash something (preferably the smug face in front of him – against his own).

And so, the next time he focused on attacking Akira, he did so from both sides – one attack with his body and one with his mind, lifting a corner of the mat just enough for him to slip on and fall to the ground just as Goro was hitting him, finally knocking him down the way he was supposed to.

He was not going to be beaten by an amateur, no matter what it took.

Weirdly, as Akira laid on the mat, he was still grinning up at him, his eyes gleaming with something that looked dangerously like quiet amusement.

“Look at that,” he said, voice so quiet that no one else could hear and yet still sounding taunting. “You finally did it.”

That little shit.

Goro wanted to step on him, press his foot down and rearrange his guts from the outside.

And the look on Akira's face seemed to suggest that he'd be perfectly alright with that.

“It's good to finally see you in here again,” Niijima greeted him rather harshly when he actually showed his face in the student council room again, after a very fruitless week of “investigating” Yoshizawa.

“Did you know this school has a stalker problem?” he asked and Niijima looked up in surprise.

“A stalker problem? Oh, you talked to Akira, did you? Honestly, I wouldn't go so far as to call it stalking – he's new and he looks good and he has those delinquent rumours going on that attract quite a few of the girls – you know, the bad boy type.”

Goro stared at her, unable to move for a moment, thoughts whirling.

“What?” he finally brought out, tone flat.

“Hm?” she asked. “Oh, you know, his love letters. Wait, wasn't that what you meant?”

“Love letters?” Somehow, he couldn't quite get his voice to do what he wanted anymore, couldn't find the octave for 'casual curiosity' and instead ended somewhere down in 'numb shock'. Maybe a problem with his vocal chords?

“Yes, apparently he has new ones in his locker every day. Several, too. It's quite hypocritical, if you ask me, considering all this school ever does to his face is spread rumours about how bad he is, but what are you gonna do, right?”

She leaned back over her books as if the conversation was finished.

Goro was not finished.

“I am appalled that you take the issue so lightly,” he said sharply, sharper than he had intended but now that his voice had found a tone again, it seemed to want to hold onto it extra-tightly. “This is a serious issue! A truly disgusting one! We should cut this behaviour out before it spreads, grip it by the root, really. Maybe we should set up guards next to his locker or cameras... I could come in early mornings, keep an eye on things.”

Niijima raised her head again, looking absolutely baffled.

“Have you lost your mind?” she asked. “It's just some girls having a crush! You're not going to set up surveillance to find out who has a crush on Akira!”

“Maybe it's you,” Goro squeaked, determined to ignore that his voice had now apparently developed a life of its own and decided to become absolutely hysterical – the rest of him was perfectly calm, of course. “You seem awfully chummy with him – Calling him by his first name and all. Are you harassing the poor the boy with love letters, Niijima?”

She jumped off her chair, looking horrified.

“Me?! Have you gone completely insane now? You know very well that I'm in a relationship!”

“Do I know that?” He had lost his mind. Of course he knew that – What was wrong with him, it was as if he was overheating, every rational thought evaporating from his brain until he knew nothing anymore but how to lash out. “I always thought Haru was a bit out of your league, if I'm being perfectly honest.”

Why had he said this? This was a ridiculous thing to say. It was true that he couldn't stand Niijima but she and Haru looked like a perfect couple and everyone in this school knew that.

Niijima stared at him for a very long time, having gone completely quiet, then packed up her books and, without another look at him, stormed out of the room.

Well.

Fuck.

The next day, Goro decided to have lunch with Yusuke.

His decision had nothing to do with the fact that he'd normally sit with Niijima and Haru and both girls hadn't talked to him all morning during class.

It also had nothing to do with the fact that Yusuke sat alone on his table with his sketchbook and a perfect view on Yoshizawa's table, where Akira and Mishima were currently in deep conversation.

It had absolutely, most definitely, not even a little bit to do with Akira having rolled up his sleeves, biceps flexing as he sat with a sexy half-grin, a fork resting on his lips as he listened to Mishima and leaving Goro with the unnatural desire to bite into them, leave the indents of his teeth instead of the light marks the fork left.

Yusuke didn't even notice him sit down.

“Hello,” Goro greeted him gingerly and Yusuke flinched.

“Oh. Hello. My apologies, I was distracted. Have you been here long?”

Goro shook his head gently.

“No. But I do wish to talk to you, if you could lend me your attention for a minute?”

“Ah, of course.” Though he did look slightly disappointed, Yusuke did turn his gaze away from Yoshizawa and fully looked at Goro now. It was weird, how little gestures like these could make his throat close up momentarily. “Is everything alright?”

“Oh, yes, this isn't about me, it's... - Well, I couldn't help but notice that you've shown a lot of interest in Yoshizawa-san lately.”

“Indeed,” Yusuke nodded. “She is a very impressive person – She moves with such grace and every single light seems to flatter her beauty only further. Never have I seen a model so impressive – Every attempt to capture true beauty seems to pale in comparison.”

“Well, that's certainly...” Goro bit his lip, his eyes having wandered to Yoshizawa-san during his speech and finding that Akira was looking straight at him.

Don't think about him, he told himself fiercely.

He instead looked straight ahead to Yoshizawa. He was not wrong, he supposed. She was more beautiful than most girls at this school, breathtaking enough to have boys look after her wherever she went. She seemed to light up every room with her genuine sweetness. She was an excellent gymnast – incredibly talented.

Goro frowned, feeling a sudden headache creep up at him and his eyes wandered back to Akira seemingly on instinct. Akira who got love letters every day and who should be stuffed in a boy's toilet with him right now, and who should be offering Goro his cock so he could run his tongue down the entire length and-

Okay brain, what the fuck.

“Goro-kun?” Yusuke asked, looking slightly puzzled. “You were saying something?”

“Oh, right,” Goro brought out, voice suddenly very raspy. “Pardon, I'm- I was temporarily distracted. Yes, well, while I understand your fascination, it seems to me that your constant attention is very likely to make Yoshizawa-san a little uncomfortable.”

“Uncomfortable?” Yusuke asked. “But I merely wish to draw her...”

“Yes, I understand that. But you have been following her around for several weeks now and – you know, most girls find that behaviour a little troubling.”

Maybe, without Yusuke's constant stalking, she'd feel less like she needed a bodyguard and would stop dragging Akira around with her everywhere and then he could drag Akira with him instead, fuck him gently into the mattress of his-

Goro gnarled his teeth.

This was getting out of control.

“I think I understand,” Yusuke replied, thoughtfully tapping his pen against his lips. “You think I've gone too far?”

“Maybe a little – I know you didn't meant to, though,” Goro sighed. “But you do get a little intense when you're in the middle of a project.”

Pot calling the kettle black, Goro thought then frowned over his own thought.

He was not Yusuke levels of intense, right?

Aren't you? A voice in his head helpfully provided.

Oh God, he had noticed Yusuke stalking Yoshizawa because he'd... technically done the same thing.

Goro shook his head, dismissing the odd thoughts crowding in on him. Best not to think about it at all. This was nothing but an investigation – he had an important mind-break case to solve, after all.

“Maybe I should talk to her,” Yusuke said, completely oblivious to his inner monologue turning into a weird sort of dialogue. “Apologise. See if I can get her to pose for me naturally.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Goro nodded, taking a sip from his water and sighing.

His headache was getting worse.

The next time he subtly followed Yoshizawa around, currently hiding behind a large fountain in the courtyard he could turn on at any given time to cover himself, she simply stood up from the bench she was sharing with Akira and walked straight up to him.

He got so panicked he went too far with the waterworks and covered himself in cold, stinking fountain water, making Yoshizawa's eyes widen before she giggled.

“Oh gosh, that was unexpected. Are you alright?” she asked, perfectly dry.

Goro, stood with his hair dripping and his soaked clothes clinging to his form and suddenly found himself relieved that the school uniform was black as he tried to block out the musty smell of the water now coating his entire body.

He knew that he couldn't control water very well with his telekinesis – He'd learned that the hard way in his countless visits to the bathhouse. What on earth had possessed him to suddenly assume the opposite?

“Y-yes. I- that's quite alright. Uhm. You- you wanted to talk to me?”

Yoshizawa giggled again.

Oh, she had to know what he'd tried. Maybe she'd actually planted the thought into his head.

Goro's eyes widened.

Wait – wasn't that possible? Someone who could mind-break Kamoshida this thoroughly... he had heard of other cases like him, cases capable of telepathy... If she had access to his thoughts...

Goro narrowed his eyes at her, focussing intensely on his thoughts, trying to broadcast them to her directly now.

I will expose you, he thought.

I know what you are.

I'll find a way to prove it to anybody.

Nothing, but a lightly puzzled expression and a shiver running over Goro's shoulders as a cool wind blew and reminded him that he was soaked from head to toes.

“Here.”

Goro flinched.

A very amused looking Akira was standing in front of him, having come over from the bench as well, and was offering him his uniform jacket.

Goro hesitated.

“I'll only get it wet,” he finally said. “I'm perfectly fine.”

“You're trembling,” Akira quipped. “Just take it, you can wash and dry it afterwards if that makes you more comfortable.”

Why was he being so nice? Why did he always look at Goro like he was constantly holding back a laugh, but at the same time, acted with so much kindness that seemed to come so easily to him?

He took the jacket and noticed from a look at his own outstretched hand that he was, indeed, trembling.

Goro quickly slipped inside – it was bigger than his normal jacket, but not by much. it was still warm from when Akira had worn it, comfortable, soothing.

It smelled like coffee in a way that oddly reminded him of Akira – not that he had ever realised it before - and Goro almost felt a little sad at the thought that he was going to replace that excellent smell with the damn stinking fountain water smell.

He was going to suggest to Niijima that they took care of a thorough algae cleaning of the fountain.

If Niijima ever spoke to him again.

“Better?” Akira asked, voice surprisingly gentle.

Goro flinched out of his thoughts and nodded shortly.

“Yes I- Right. Thank you. I appreciate it.”

There it was again, that half-smile Goro liked so much, quirking up one of the corners of his lips.

“Anytime,” Akira winked. “You look good in my clothes.”

Always with the mocking, Goro thought, ruining every nice moment they could've had with the sudden, overwhelming urge to punch him to the ground and kiss him stupid.

And to make matters worst, Goro's headache was getting stronger now – He was probably going to catch a goddamn cold.

“I- uhm,” Yoshizawa said, reminding Goro of the fact that she was still here – whoops, he had completely forgotten her over Akira and his pretty grey eyes and the smell of coffee that made him want to lick over his skin and find out if he tasted of it, too and his-

Okay, okay, this was apparently a spreading disease he was going to have to live with now, which meant he had to learn to get his thoughts out of the gutter and be a bit more focussed on his surroundings – mostly Yoshizawa, who was awkwardly shifting on her feet in front of him.

“I wanted to thank you. Kitagawa told me you talked to him and that he was going to stop following me around. He asked me to act as his muse...”

“Ah, yes,” Goro muttered. “He's a bit oblivious at times – He merely seemed to be very fascinated by your beauty. I'm glad it seems to have resolved itself.”

Yoshizawa blushed.

“I- Yes he said something like that. Honestly, he's very- I mean, I'm very flattered. I had never thought- And he's such a talented artist, too. That he wants to draw me – I told him he's free to join my training sessions whenever he likes to draw me. I feel much more comfortable if he does so with my permission, you know?” She gave him a nervous laugh but Goro barely heard her anymore – his headache had spiked suddenly, making him dizzy.

He felt... Angry, all of a sudden, overwhelmed.

He wanted to drag himself into a toilet stall, press himself against a wall and fuck into...- Wait that didn't make sense, what the hell was happening to him?

The feeling and the weird intrusive thoughts disappeared as fast as they had come, leaving him slightly out of breath.

“I uhm,” he brought out, barely remembering how to string words together. “I'm glad. I- I gotta go.”

He rushed past them without looking at either of them, feeling confused and stressed and panicked and incredibly wet.

Goro simply ran home, throwing himself into his mother's arms soaked through as he was and enjoyed her sweet muttered comforts and the safety of her arms as he let himself be mothered for a bit – She made him tea and wrapped him into blankets and laid a hand on his forehead to check for fever.

Everything was shitty, Goro decided. He wanted to stay at home, with his mum and not face Akira, who made his thoughts spiral into completely fucked up directions, didn't want to face Yoshizawa, who may or may not be a brilliant telepath messing with his head and being able to mind-break people. He didn't want to face Niijima and Haru, who would both be, without a doubt, incredibly angry with him.

He couldn't run away forever, but if he just played sick for a while, then maybe... Maybe he could.

“Hm,” his mother hummed as she collected his wet clothes. “Whose jacket is this?”

“Akira's,” he mumbled, words muffled by his face in the pillow. At her questioning gaze, he lifted it.

“Akira,” he said again, more clearer now. “Akira Kurusu. Transfer student. Lent me his jacket.”

“How nice of him,” his mother smirked.

“He's not nice,” Goro replied seriously. “He's the devil.”

He was probably sitting on a table somewhere right now, reading more of his countless love letters and laughing with Yoshizawa about his breakdown. Goro carefully diverted his thoughts back to this afternoon, waiting for a new onslaught of sexual fantasies and noticed with relief that they remained mild, a background noise. He was still very well aware that Kurusu was incredibly hot but perfectly in control of his thoughts when he was not around him.

Good. Fine.

Maybe he was not completely losing it, then. Just a little. Just around Akira.

Great.

His mother gave him a few days at home, clearly sensing that he was upset even when she could see that he wasn't really sick – even his headaches had thankfully decreased when Goro finally returned to school.

Until the first person he ran into was Akira.

“Oh,” he said as he spotted him, stepping closer, far too close for Goro's liking. Apparently there needed to be a few feet between them at all times for him to keep his wits. “Hey. Are you feeling better?”

He looked genuinely concerned, all of his usual mischief wiped off his face.

Goro's heart beat to his throat at the sight of those silver eyes so full of worry for him.

“I'm quite alright, thank you – I... I forgot to bring your jacket but...-”

“Are you sure? You looked really bad the other day.” Akira awkwardly twirled a lock of his silky black hair around his finger, apparently completely uncaring of the whereabouts of his jacket. “Really sorry about that, by the way.”

Goro had to clear his throat and tried everything in his power to keep himself together, appear as the cool and collected person he usually pretended to be.

“It's hardly your fault – don't worry about it.”

He saw someone move towards them from the corner of his eyes and almost flinched when he realised that it was Haru.

“I- Please excuse me, I have got to go,” he told Akira, who was – infuriatingly – smirking at him again.

“Oh, do you have to? I've seen so little of you lately, I've really missed you.”

Goro froze on the spot, mouth falling open as he forgot all about Haru heading towards him and stared at Akira instead.

Akira's smirk grew into a cocky grin.

“It's just not the same to beat Sumire in Aikido, she doesn't get as angry at you. Do you know that your entire head goes red when you're angry?”

Oh, that arrogant little bitch.

Goro let his last, twisted attempts of his pleasant mask fall as he openly scowled at Akira now.

“We'll see how red you go when I step on your throat and choke the life out of you, you little piece of shit.”

He couldn't read Akira very well – never could. He could read his teachers like an open book, always knew what games the other students were playing, could read people's true intentions like the morning paper, but Akira remained closed off, even now, even as he watched several emotions run over his face, each too short to give him anything to work with.

Behind him, an angel-like voice coughed gently.

“Am I interrupting something?”

Shit fuck fucking shit, fuck.

“Haru,” he brought out between gritted teeth.

Was it him or was Akira suppressing a chuckle right now? Did he find Goro's threat funny?

“Goro. I see you're back to your charming self. Haven't insulted enough people lately?”

Straight to the point, then.

Fucking fine.

“Please excuse us,” he told Akira, tone perfectly pleasant again. As if nothing had happened.

Akira looked at him like he was the sun and for a short moment, something inside of Goro's chest seemed to explode like a supernova at the sight.

And then Haru intertwined their arms and dragged him through the school corridors towards an empty classroom.

“I assume you were simply planning to avoid me forever?” she pounced on him the moment the door had fallen shut behind them. “Is that what my friendship means to you, then?”

Goro sighed.

“No, of course not. I'm sorry – I was simply under a lot of stress lately and-”

“Yes, I have seen your 'stress'.” She crossed her arms, sounding unusual cold as she spoke to him. “Akira's a good person, you know? He's never done anything to anyone. If you don't like him because of one of your weird judgemental hang-ups, then you can do that politely.”

Goro looked to the floor.

“That's not it.”

“Isn't it? Makoto told me that's what you were talking about when you attacked her – If you have a problem with Akira, you don't have to let it out on my girlfriend, you know?”

“She was being obnoxious,” he hissed.

“No, she wasn't. You're being quite obnoxious, though. You know how much Makoto means to me. I've asked you so many times to please just get along with her – I don't need you to be friends, but-”

“I know, I know,” Goro grumbled. “You're right, I know. I'm sorry. I really am.”

She glared at him.

“Are you?”

“For your sake,” he sighed, “yes.”

“You said you'd try to get along with her.”

“Well, she's not exactly making it easy for me,” Goro retorted, crossing his own arms now defensively.

“She didn't do anything!”

“She kept going on and on about Akira and his goddamn love letters!” Goro was shouting now – when had he started shouting?

Haru straightened her chin.

“Aha. So you do admit that all of this was because you don't like Akira?”

“No,” Goro replied petulantly, straightening his chin right back at her. “I like Akira just fine. I mean- I'm neutral towards Akira. Completely indifferent.”

“You just told him to his face that you were planning on crushing his lungs,” Haru said with her eyebrows raised.

“Yeah but he- he likes that. You've seen his face! And he looked like that the first time, too!”

“The first time?” Haru spluttered. “You've threatened him before?”

Goro nervously let his arms sink again, swinging them back and fourth. “Yes. No. I kinda beat him in Aikido and I considered stepping on him and I must've looked the part because he was looking at me as if to say 'do it'.”

Haru frowned at him, a mix of confusion, disgust and curiosity on her face.

“Goro are you and he... flirting?”

“Of course not!” he snapped back. “I doubt he'd even have time to flirt with me – he has his hoards of admirers and writers of pathetic poetry for that, after all!”

“Oh my God.” All of Haru's anger seemed to have evaporated – she had raised a hand to her mouth to stifle a giggle. “You like him. You like like him.”

“I do nothing of the sort – I told you: complete indifference.”

“Right, well...” She was still giggling as she headed for the door. “I'll tell Makoto about your very intense indifference towards Akira and she'll understand, I'm sure. Just please don't go off on her like that again – you know, she's honestly very insecure about this stuff, it's not nice of you to poke around in it. Especially since you have the very same insecurities.”

“I'm the most secure person I know,” Goro lied, openly sulking now.

Haru shook her head softly.

“Promise me, Goro?”

“Promise. But please don't tell her?” he hastily added and Haru grinned at him.

“Tell her what? I thought you didn't like him?”

She was still giggling when she shut the door in front of Goro, leaving him with shoulders hanging in defeat.

Goro couldn't focus in class all day. He heard Haru and Makoto mutter about him between their tasks and it was beginning to infuriate him.

He had decided to ignore them loudly, mostly by drumming his fingers against the wood of his table and making Makoto's papers fly off her table whenever she was in the middle of an especially annoying sentence. Other than for his petty revenge, Goro really was trying his hardest not to listen to them, not to look at them, not to think about them – or about Akira for that matter.

So he was back to thinking about Kamoshida again.

Who except Sumire would have any interest in making him confess his crimes?

The easy answer was: Almost everyone.

Ann Takamaki surely was the most obvious option – She'd been close with Suzui, incredibly close. She'd been directly affected herself, too.

He'd known Ann since the start of high school though and never had she shown any sign of special powers able to equal his own – or the necessary subtlety to hide them from him until now.

He considered Sakamoto – rumour had it that he and Akira had been involved in an incident with Kamoshida that had almost resulted in their expulsion.

Goro caught himself momentarily distracted by images of Akira leaving through the school door with hanging shoulders while girls and boys stood sobbing in a corner, hysterically crying about having no one left to write love letters to-

He was not thinking of Akira.

He couldn't be thinking of Akira – it was dangerous territory. It was driving him mad. He couldn't afford to be driven mad, not before he hadn't cracked this case.

So. Ryuji Sakamoto.

A loud, blond junior with just as much subtlety as a sledgehammer and the maturity and intelligence of a middle-grader, having any special mental powers? Hardly.

But Sumire...? He wasn't sure. She was new, yes. But she was also one of the only students he knew on this school who hadn't gotten into any trouble with Kamoshida yet. She seemed too genuinely nice to attempt to break someone's mind – not ruthless enough by a long shot.

And so completely oblivious...

It didn't make any sense.

He was overlooking something, something big, something obvious that was staring him right in the face.

Goro felt like he'd barely heard anything of his class when the bell finally freed him from the stuffy classroom and he was one of the first people to get up and leave.

He was also one of the first people to run straight into Akira as he stood in the school corridor, opening his locker and getting smacked in the face by a huge burst of pink confetti and letters flying out to him.

Goro froze on the spot, watching the stunned expression on Akira's face turn into awkward joy as he unfolded the letter and quietly read.

Right.

There it was, then. Niijima's famous love letters and he had a first row seat.

Unable to move, Goro stared at the pink confetti pieces caught up in Akira's beautiful black hair. They were heart-shaped.

With a sudden, overwhelming surge of anger, he narrowed his eyes and watched with exceptional satisfaction how one after another untangled from Akira and fluttered to the ground from the sheer power of his will, then focused on the letter next. With a low growl he really hoped no one could hear, he tore it apart right in Akira's hands.

With a surprised yelp, the boy let both halves of the letter fall and Goro spent a few seconds tearing them into even smaller pieces, until they themselves were nothing more than confetti, then he gave Akira's locker door a push with his mind and slammed it shut.

Problem solved.

Akira was blinking a him now, mouth half open and panting – Before he could say anything, though, the rest of the school had caught up with them. Goro gave Akira one last angry huff, then disappeared into the crowd along with them, just in time to watch a dark-haired junior walk up to Akira with hopeful doe-eyes.

Aha, he thought numbly.

So he was the one who thought it was alright to leave Akira tacky love letters, then.

Yuuki Mishima.

Goro spent the next afternoon sitting in the student council room, nibbling on his apple as he read the file for the third time.

Yuuki Mishima.

Quiet student, very good grades, shy, very few friends, quite athletic – He'd been on Kamoshida's volleyball team and has been seen with bruises almost every day.

Well.

He was fresh out of leads – Looking into it might lead to something, right?

Only for his research concerning Kamoshida's sudden confession, of course – absolutely nothing else.

Finding Mishima wasn't too difficult – Goro had to merely follow the magnetic pull that seemed to draw him to Akira at all times and there he was. The loyal dog, always at his side, looking up to him with puppy eyes that betrayed his muscular body and quirky nature.

He supposed he looked good, to an untrained, unambitious eye. The biceps probably did it. Made him appear more appealing than he actually was on first glance. Maybe second glance.

Still – someone as gorgeous, as attentive and sweet and intelligent as Akira should know better, should have a more cultivated taste than bland Mishima.

He supposed his love letters may have flattered Akira.

Maybe he was having pity on him.

Yes, that had to be all.

That had to be the only reason why Goro, even three days later, still saw them in the cafeteria, away from all of Akira's usual little group of friends (that had unfortunately started to overlap with Goro's own) and hanging their heads together.

With a little cough, Goro sat down right opposite Akira, smiling politely.

“Hello – you don't mind, do you?”

“Eh,” said Mishima, but he didn't get a chance to add anything to it, because Akira was already beaming at Goro.

“Not in the slightest.”

He looked good without his jacket on, Goro thought. He had forgotten to give it back for several days now. Actually, now that he thought about it, he was just going to keep it.

Maybe wear it in school right underneath Akira's nose. Show him just how good he looked in his clothes, the smug little shit.

Akira blinked at him for a moment, eyes wide before they wandered down. “Is that... all you eat?”

Goro looked down at his apple and back up again, shrugging.

“I had a good breakfast,” he lied.

His mother was busy. His asshole father's spare payments barely kept them over water, so she worked several jobs. So, she couldn't pack him wonderful smelling curry everytime she sent him to school – so he didn't have countless admirers giving him bentos like he saw Sumire do for Akira.

Who cared?

An apple was more than enough.

Akira swallowed hard.

“So, what were you two talking about?” Goro asked pleasantly, fully aware that he was being brazen and not caring in the slightest. “It sure seemed fascinating.”

Mishima immediately blushed, his entire face running red as he ducked and stared at the table.

“Nothing, really,” he muttered.

Akira shook his head with a little grin.

So that was it, then. The confirmation he had- he had not cared about in the slightest because he was merely investigating the Kamoshida case.

They were dating. Fine then. What was it to him? Completely irrelevant.

His only real problem, really, was that his stomach suddenly seemed to cramp up at the thought of a single bite from his apple and his feet seemed to have developed a life of their own, impatiently moving underneath the table, eager to get up and run away as fast as they could carry him.

He'd just sat down – He'd look like an idiot if he left now.

“Hey,” Akira said, tearing him out of his thoughts, “I was wondering if you're coming to watch Sumi practice again tomorrow? You haven't been a while.”

Sumi.

Urgh.

He'd gotten so chummy with everyone so ridiculously fast.

Disgusting.

The worst kind of person, really.

“I would love that,” Goro replied with a wide smile. “I'm interested to see how she has improved – and you, of course. Maybe it is time for a rematch.”

Akira's smile sharpened.

“My thoughts exactly – that way we can see if the mat conveniently springs to your rescue again. We could set a price, too. My jacket, maybe?” He was smirking at him. As if he knew. As if he knew that Goro had no intention of every actually giving him back his jacket and adored him for it.

His head was spinning.

Nothing made sense around Akira, not his own thoughts, not what he thought Akira was thinking, nothing.

Mishima was looking back and forth between them, seemingly not sure what they were talking about and too shy to ask – Goro felt a weird sense of satisfaction at the sight.

You don't know him that well at all, do you? he thought, suddenly feeling much more cheerful.

Well, it was a reason for cheers – Mishima was hardly good enough for him.

No one but you is, said a little voice in his head that sounded dangerously like Akira's.

The next day, Mishima was walking Akira to the gym hall. Goro was walking a little behind them, watching from a safe distance how he clung to his arm and talked to him with hushed murmurs. Probably more mushy declarations of love.

Hah.

Goro knew why he'd never been interested in that sort of thing.

Someone looking so strong showcasing so much weakness... pathetic.

They finally parted at the door and Akira waved after him with a little smile that grew into his familiar half-smile when he saw Goro head towards him.

“Hey! You made it.”

“Told you I would,” Goro greeted him and Akira, the gentleman that he was, held the door open for him.

“Did you have lunch?” he asked as they slipped in. “And by that I mean more than an apple.”

“I'm perfectly fine with my apples,” Goro snapped back, evading the question and trying to hide the loud churn of his stomach.

“Oh, well, if you're not hungry, that's cool, but if you are...” He awkwardly tugged at one of his bangs. “Well, I brought some extra curry for you, if you want to try it.”

Goro froze mid-step, staring at him.

“You... you did?”

Akira shrugged.

“It's really good – I live in a café, you know and the owner makes really good curry and coffee. He taught me how to do it. I brought a thermos too, so you can try it if you like coffee?”

He did like coffee. He barely drank any here though, because the one they sold in the school's café was atrocious.

They greeted Sumire and sat down on a bench to watch her go through her routines. Akira unpacked a large bowl of curry and a thermos, carefully pouring him a cup.

“You didn't have to do that,” Goro told him quietly.

Had he brought Mishima lunch, too? What was this? Pity?

“I wanted to,” Akira told him, his eyes holding Goro's for a moment as he held out the curry. “Besides, I'm excited to see how you like it. I made this one myself.”

“Oh,” Goro replied as he let the spoon carefully run through the deliciously smelling curry, trying to ignore the way his breath hitched at this words. “So I'm your guinea pig then?”

He got it – he was the test trial for Mishima's portion. It made sense. Akira did seem like the sort of person who would be a perfectionist.

“No, I just thought you might like it,” he shrugged. “I noticed you don't eat much and I... well, you're difficult to get a hold of to just... talk a little, sometimes. Mostly sneaking around Sumire and I thought...”

“Huh?” Goro asked, mouth full of curry. The taste exploded on his tongue, leaving him stunned for a moment. That was genuinely, surprisingly good. “Sumire?”

He'd noticed that, then?

Akira was looking over to Sumire, who was currently performing a little cartwheel, his expression turning dull and bitter.

“Yeah, I mean, it's cool, I get it. She's super pretty.” He shook his head softly. “Anyway, you should try the coffee. I put some milk in and a bit of sugar.”

That was exactly how he usually drank his coffee.

Huh.

Sometimes it really did feel as if fate had placed Akira right into his path, the perfect match for him. And then he remembered that he was Mishima's match, that he was Sumi's friend, that he wasn't his, that he got love letters in his lockers and found perfect, little, cartwheeling athletes pretty and-

“Goro?”

Goro almost choked on the (shockingly perfect) coffee and coughed loudly at the sound of his name from these lips.

“Oh God, sorry!” Akira looked genuinely distraught. “This wasn't how I expected your first sip to go – You just looked really distracted for a moment there.”

“I'm okay,” Goro brought out, slowly calming his throat and taking another, safer sip.

The coffee was excellent and seemed to weirdly compliment the taste of the curry.

“That's really good.”

“Thank you,” Akira smiled. “I barely had time this morning, because Futaba was trying to drag me out early, so I'm glad it still turned out to be alright.”

“Futaba?” Goro asked.

Futaba Sakura?

What the hell- was this boy living out some harem fantasies or something? He lived with a girl?

Akira chuckled.

“Oh yeah, sorry. She's my little sister. Kinda. She's my guardian's daughter and while I'm not technically adopted – well, it's complicated.” He broke off, his smile looking forced.

“It's alright,” Goro snorted bitterly. “I know a thing or two about complicated family relations. You're lucky, honestly. An adoptive family at least means someone wanted you.”

Akira nodded.

“Yeah, you're telling me,” he muttered, clearly lost in his own thoughts. Goro let him be for a moment, enjoying the food and coffee quietly.

“So, may I ask – only if it's alright, though – how you come to live in a café with the Sakuras?”

Akira averted his eyes from him, instead watching Sumire again.

“It's a long and depressing story. I don't mind telling you, but maybe not right now, if that's alright?”

Perfectly alright.

His prerogative, really.

Nothing wrong with that.

Bet he had told Mishima.

“Anyway,” Akira said, suddenly sounding like he had to hold back a laugh – what could possibly be this funny to him? “Mishima has been bugging me for days about Futaba so she wanted to be in school super early to avoid him. I was honestly worried for your poor coffee.”

Goro's heart beat a little faster.

“Mishima... and Futaba?” he asked, trying not to sound too curious – just the normal, casual amount, really. Because that's all it was. Small talk. Yes. Nothing more.

“Yeah, I think he may have a thing for her. He keeps trying to impress her with his computer skills but it's hard to impress a literal hacker genius – keeps asking me for advice. I told him unless he wants to spend all his money on Featherman figures for her, he's out of luck but he won't listen. Keeps pestering me.”

He grinned at Goro who was feeling an unnatural, confusing surge of relief crash through him.

So that's all that had been – Mishima hadn't left him love letters. They weren't dating – just talking about his sister.

“Hey, you like Feathermen, don't you?” asked Akira, tearing him out of his thoughts.

'Liking' was an understatement. Goro adored Featherman. Goro wrote Featherman fanfic. Goro got into fights about Featherman canon with the less fortunate members of the fandom who were punished for their stupidity by a large amount of followers who supported their painfully wrong opinions and lent them false confidence.

“I've seen an episode or two,” Goro said.

Akira looked at him for a long time quietly, then asked,

“Isn't your lockscreen a fanart of Red and Black?”

Goro's hands had gotten awfully sweaty all of a sudden. Had to be because of the coffee he was clutching between his fingers.

“How do you know my lock- I mean no, of course not.”

“It's not?” Akira asked, eyebrows raised.

“Of course not.”

He held a hand out to Goro – Goro was staring at it, mind blank from panic.

“Let's see it then?”

He jumped up with oddly wobbly knees, glaring at Akira.

“My lockscreen is really none of your business, Kurusu!”

But Akira just grinned at him calmly.

“Yeah, that's what I thought. Don't worry about it – I think Black and Red belong together, too,” he added with a wink.

Goro stared at him for a very drawn-out moment, then sank back down to the bench, hands folded in his lap now to keep himself from clinging again.

“Of course you do,” he finally said quietly. “You have excellent taste.”

And Akira – Akira rested his chin on the palm of his hand, smiling at him.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I do.”

Now that he was watching Mishima with a different focus, it became increasingly clear to him that yes, he was entirely too bland for Akira to ever fall for him.

He also was head over heels for Futaba – all the signs were there. The nervous stutter, the way his eyes were always drawn to her. The computer magazines he kept reading around her in desperate hope to strike a conversation.

Somehow Goro's little lunch group had turned into a massive table. Everyone sat together now, all led together by Akira, who was smiling and chatting pleasantly with everyone, always a cheerful, calming presence in the middle of the chaos that had somehow become their common friend group.

Haru and Niijima sat right from him, Sumire and Yusuke on the left. Goro had settled to sit opposite him, watching him eat as he chatted across the table with Ann. To Goro's right, Mishima had interrupted Futaba's reading of his latest Featherman fanfic for the third time.

Goro thought he might have to kill him after all.

“Not bad, Crow,” she finally told him with a wide grin. “Not bad at all.”

She held up her phone.

“Then again, I already knew that, since I bookmarked your account two years ago.”

Things were... weird. Worlds seemed to have melted together. Futaba Sakura turned out to be a vibrant regular reader of his fanfics, Haru, Niijima and Ann made plans for pancakes later that afternoon. Futaba distracted Yusuke from drawing Sumire by starting some bickering match with him, Sumire and Sakamoto talked about warm-up exercises.

And in the middle of everything sat Goro – accepted. Embraced. Smiled at by Akira once in a while, while he ate from the curry he'd been brought (again).

And for the first time in his life, he felt like he was part of something.

There were still love letters in Akira's locker almost every day. He never showed them to Goro, quickly stuffed them into his pockets, ignored the confetti and flowers that came with them until there were dried flower petals trapped between his books and even then, he simply brushed them off, turned to whoever he was talking to right then and acted like nothing happened.

But Goro noticed, Goro remembered and Goro felt his heart clench in his chest, felt it being wrung out like an old, smelly, rejected wash-cloth whenever it happened.

“I just think it's weird, that's all,” he told Ann Takamaki in one of her infamous shopping tours that she was now regularly dragging him to.

(One time, just one time he'd been so happy to be included, to be asked, that he'd given an enthusiastic yes and regretted it ever since. Alright, maybe he was still happy that she still wanted him there, even if it was just to carry her bags but no torture method invented by mankind would be able to pry that truth out of him.)

Ann shrugged.

“He's cute – I can see why some girls would go nuts for him.”

Goro did his best to hide away the pout threatening to bloom on his face.

(Girls weren't the only ones going nuts for him.)

“He's the school delinquent. Everyone constantly talks shit about him – Nijiima and I had students almost every day in the student council office, wanting us to do something about it because they're so 'scared'.” He made air-quotes around the word.

Ann held a gorgeous blue dress up to her neck.

“What do you think?”

“Not your colour – try it in red.”

With a smile, Ann returned the dress and browsed through the other choices, eyes never leaving the selection as she spoke.

“You're not very good in this whole girls-thing, huh? A lot of girls like a bad boy, it's a whole thing. His reputation is probably a huge reason why he gets so much attention.”

Of course he wasn't good at the whole “girls-thing”. He didn't give a shit about girls. He didn't give a shit about shallow people who loved to ruin your reputation to get a thrill out of it, either.

She held up a fancy-looking red dress and Goro nodded.

“Better. Any occasion?”

Ann gave him a blinding smile.

“Oh yeah, I've got a date!”

“Oh? Who with?”

“Doesn't matter,” she mumbled as she headed towards the changing rooms in suddenly rushed steps. Goro followed her and sat down in one of the chairs, frowning lightly.

Hm.

Ominous.

Why wouldn't she tell him who she was seeing?

Unless it was Akira... unless she was meeting Akira and knew it was bothering him...

Hadn't she just talked about how cute he was and how girls liked a bad boy? Was that it, then?

Goro clenched and unclenched his fists.

Fine.

A fine friend she was.

She didn't want to tell him? Fine.

Two could play this game.

He was simply going to have to catch her red-handed.

This was. Fine.

Nothing was fine.

Ann and Akira were so close.

With Sumire, it had been a distant-seeming kind of admiration, something between them keeping her at arm's length at all times. Watching Akira watching her had been infuriating but bearable. Mishima had seemed like a puppy by his side, something to pity, something to look down on rather than an equal.

But Ann and Akira, they laughed together. Akira's smile around her came easy and relaxed, their conversations seemingly endless. They babbled about everything and the world, she went to him with her problems and he listened earnestly, joked when she needed distraction, gave advice when she wasn't in any mood to be cheered up.

Goro's heart felt heavy and burned with jealousy whenever he watched them.

So he started eating lunch on his own again.

It was better this way, honestly. The weather was nice and he could get some of his reading done. Friends had only distracted him – from his goals, his grades, his... mission to find out who else had special mental powers at this school.

God, he had forgotten all about it, had started following Mishima and Ann around for no apparent reason other than... other than...

Goro's hands trembled as he changed pages without remembering a single word he'd just read.

The only thing he seemed to remember was Akira's name, echoing in his mind over and over again, along with the sound of his laugh, the visual of his gleaming eyes, the half-smile he always gave Goro, the way his hair looked so soft when it shimmered black in the sunlight, the way his glasses always reflected the light and...

Fuck.

He hid his face in his book, afraid to look up, afraid that everyone would be able to read the truth on his face like it was a book itself, the truth that, now that he had realised it, had to be so obvious, was threatening to spill off his tongue at any given time.

Fucking Kurusu had made him fall in love with him.

He saw the red dress peeking out of Ann's bag on Friday morning.

“You have your date today?” he asked innocently and she nodded, blushing slightly. “I won't have time to go home and change, so I had to take the dress with me – Just gotta hope it won't get any wrinkles.”

Yeah, Goro thought, you wouldn't want to wrinkle your perfect little dress for your perfect little date with perfect, gorgeous, wonderful Akira.

He fucking hated this school, actually.

“Hey!” As if incessant thinking about him had summoned him – though if that was the case, he'd be around Goro all the time – Akira walked up to them, waving with a wide grin. “Good that I catch you before class, here's your coffee and curry!” He shoved the items into Goro's hands, who was taking them more out of instinct than anything else, his head having gone terrifyingly empty at the sight of Akira

Fuck, he was so pretty. Fuck, he'd missed him. Fuck, he'd missed him so much. He wanted to lean into him, soak in that light coffee-smell radiating from him, wanted to trace every little vein running under his skin, wanted to sink his teeth into his neck, wanted to be held against the wall and be fucked into gently, lovingly, be shown exactly how much Akira actually cared about him, wanted him to prove it, he would prove him, he would show-

Goro blinked, confusion spreading again and the thoughts disappeared as sudden as they had come, leaving nothing but a burning need and wide-eyed stare.

Akira blushed.

“You never come to lunch anymore,” he said after a little pause. “So I thought I'd better give you your food before school starts. You're probably super busy and all but we could maybe meet in the mornings?”

Super busy, right. Super busy reading the same page over and over again while thinking of you. Of you and Ann on your stupid fucking date, sucking stupid fucking faces.

Akira's blush seemed to deepen as he waited for Goro to reply, but it actually took him a while to remember that it was his turn to speak.

“Right,” he finally said. “In the mornings. Maybe. I- I am very busy, even in the mornings, student council duties, you understand. So I'll have to see how to squeeze you into my schedule.”

He couldn't remember the last time he'd actually taken a look at any of his student council duties – Nijiima was probably having a blast running the whole thing on her own, though.

... Either that or Haru would soon rip his head off his shoulders.

Didn't matter. He had to stay away. Had to stay away from Akira at all costs. That boy – he messed with his brain.

“Oh,” Akira said, looking downright disappointed. Then his face lit up. “Maybe I could just bring it to the student council room, then? I don't want to interrupt you, I'll just drop it off and be on my way. Just making sure you eat enough.”

“I don't need you- you're not my mum, you know?” he snapped at him, sharper than he had intended but he needed him to back off. He needed a second to clear his head, so soothe this raging panic inside of him.

Ann was watching them with wide eyes, not having said a single word, but now she raised her eyebrows.

“You know, Sumi sees you eating lunch on your own every day, yeah? She always goes down to the gym early. You can just sit with us, Goro.”

Goro was seething. He wanted to tear that concerned look off her face and feed it to the wolves. Stop being so kind, he thought. Stop being so sweet. Stop being everything Akira Kurusu could possibly want from people that Goro could never give him. Stop ratting me out. Stop pretending to care. Stopstopstopstop...

Akira linked his arm with Goro's, efficiently stopping the painful stream of thoughts crashing through him with a single touch. He always felt so warm next to Goro, like he was radiating sunshine and comfort, the little shit. He wanted to lean into him, rest his head on his shoulder and forget the aching, thrashing fire inside of him.

Instead, he lowered his head and cleared his voice.

“I have a lot of reading to do, I can't afford any distractions.”

Like he'd been anything but distracted lately.

“I could sit with you quietly,” Akira suggested. “I always bring books to school myself, we could just read together.”

Goro turned his head slightly to give him a glare and Akira shrugged, that half-grin of his back in place.

“You don't need to sit all alone, Goro. You're one of us.”

No. No, he wasn't. He wasn't even Akira's. Akira wasn't even his. He'd never-

“Just leave me the hell alone, Kurusu.”

He tore his arm away from his and fled into the safety of his classroom, happy that neither Ann nor Akira could follow him inside.

He hid out in the library during breaks and lunch, sneaked to his classes and was determined to spend the rest of his last high school year this way if he needed to – but of course, of fucking course, Akira lurked around the main gate after school, catching him when Goro tried to rush past him with fast steps.

“Hey, wait, Goro-”

A hand wrapped around his wrists, warm, long fingers that clearly hadn't learned from the last time – He tore himself free, glared at him and sped up his pace, unsurprised to find it matched by Akira.

“Hey, wait, I just wanted-”

“Leave me alone, Kurusu! I told you!”

He started running now, noticing that he was leaving behind a defeated Akira and somehow it didn't remotely give him the satisfaction he had hoped for.

Run after me, he thought. Come on. Run after me.

Goro didn't dare to turn around, didn't dare to show he cared, he just ran forwards onto the train station, not hearing any steps behind him, not feeling any hands stop him and when he finally reached the station, out of breath and with an aching ribcage...

Akira arrived shortly after him, looking flushed and breathing heavily.

“For the record,” he panted while Goro was still busy staring at him, mind blanking out for a second while his heart didn't seem to come down from the high of running.

He... he really had come after him?

“Ann is going out with Ryuji today.”

Goro blinked.

“Huh?”

“Ann and Ryuji? They're having their first date today. She's hella nervous so I tried to calm her down a little lately. Honestly, I think it's ridiculous, they've had a crush on each other since middle school, they'll be fine.”

Goro's throat hurt, actually. He needed some water, he needed his breath to calm down and he needed a good long cry in his mum's arms until he couldn't cry anymore.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you're an idiot,” Akira laughed. “And because I think they're super brave for doing this and risking their friendship like that, and because I want to be that brave too, and because I don't want to be the person in love with someone for years before I finally make a move, and because I want to go out with you.”

Goro froze. All his brain functions seemed to shut down, his entire body went numb, not even his breath seemed to want to come. He just stood there, paralysed in front of Akira, trying to get his lips to move to say something.

Impossible, he would say.

You're lying.

You can't want to go out with me.

You're mocking me.

No word came over his lips, no part of the confused storm in his head seemed to break free and spill over like rain.

Say yes, a little voice in his head begged that sounded like Akira's. Please just say yes.

Goro finally breathed out and suddenly felt surprisingly calm.

“What the hell makes you think I want to go out with trash like you?” he finally asked, voice full of venom.

Akira's smile never wavered, his fingers twirling around a lock of his hair the only indication that he was nervous.

“Call it a gut feeling,” he finally smirked. “You're incredibly hot when you say stuff like that, you know that?”

Goro raised an eyebrow.

“When I insult you?”

Akira nodded.

Right. The kid who'd gotten all hot and bothered when he'd thrown him to the ground. He shouldn't be surprised. He wasn't surprised.

He was a little surprised.

Goro let out a little chuckle, suddenly feeling light-headed and giddy.

“Very well,” he finally said. “Meet me in Kichijoji tomorrow at three. Don't be late.”

And don't you dare bring a single one of your goddamn love letters, Goro added in his mind.

And Akira grinned.

“Of course not.”

School uniforms were a mercy, actually, Goro realised as soon as he set eyes on Akira the very next day.

School uniforms had protected him all this time from the sight of Akira in tight black jeans and a loose Featherman shirt swaying gently in the wind.

“Seriously?” he greeted him with a pointed look on the shirt to hide his dry mouth and keep it from spilling out words like “you're so fucking beautiful holy shit.”

Somehow Akira was smirking at him like he'd heard them, anyway.

“What? You like Featherman, I like Featherman... This is a limited edition Grey Pigeon shirt, I thought it would impress you.”

Goro crossed his arms, glaring at him with very little bite.

“I don't know what on Earth makes you think that I like Grey Pigeon.”

Grey Pigeon was his favourite character.

Akira just shrugged with a smug expression on his face.

“Just a feeling.”

“You've got quite a lot of feelings lately,” Goro grumbled but Akira simply smiled at him dreamily.

“Yeah, I sure have.”

“I didn't mean- Urgh.” Goro let out a heavy breath. “Fucking fine. What do you want to do, then?”

Akira's eyes widened nervously. “Me? You wanted me to come here, I thought-”

“What so you don't even have any plans? Some fine date you are.” But Goro was playing with him, a grin appearing on his face without his permission, while he enjoyed the moments of terror flickering over Akira's face. “I'm kidding. There's a dart and billiards club not far from here, I thought we could play a few matches if you're up for it? I would so love to watch you lose.”

Akira's face lit up immediately, the glint in his eyes telling Goro all he needed to know.

“Bring it on.”

Goro was usually better in billiards. It was a play of logic and tactic more than skills and he always liked using that to his advantage. He started off with a break ace, just to show Akira where he was at and watched amusement dance in those steel-grey eyes.

“You play a lot, I assume?”

“It relaxes me,” Goro replied with a shrug. “My mum works until late so I have a lot of time on my own. I live nearby so I started coming here and play, most of the time by myself. I've gotten quite good at it.”

Akira was watching him quietly over the tip of his billiards cue.

“Well, if you ever want a partner, hit me up, I'll enjoy handing you your ass.”

Hmph, Goro thought. He sure as hell didn't want a partner. Yet here he was, fucking entranced by this idiot.

Apparently no one had told his goddamn heart.

Akira blushed violently, as if having read his mind. “Billiards partner, I meant.”

“Maybe,” Goro replied sweetly – dangerously so. “If you prove to be any challenge at all, I might consider it. As things are, I doubt that it'll make any kind of difference whether I play against you or no one.”

Something in his heart felt feather-light, actually, as he watched Akira laugh loudly at that, his head thrown back and his eyes pinched close as the sound streamed out of him.

“You haven't even given me a chance to play yet. Maybe I'm really good?”

“I doubt it,” Goro hummed. “But I'll be happy to watch you prove the opposite.”

He rearranged the billiard balls and stepped back, letting Akira start this time.

And Akira looked at him with such untempered joy at the challenge, Goro couldn't help the thought from rising, couldn't keep it down no matter how much he tried, down with all the other hope he'd successfully drowned all his life, to swim with the fishes and die like the rest of them.

This might just work out.

Akira was absolutely horrendous at billiards – Which would've been amusing if it didn't seem like he had, somehow, dragged Goro down to his level.

It wasn't that Goro wasn't in top form – it was just that everytime it was his turn, his mind suddenly filled with images of Akira, stretched out over the table, naked, Goro's cock disappearing inside that gorgeous ass of his.

Goro messed up shot after shot, getting angrier and more distracted everytime now while Akira at least scored once in a while, clearly stealing the lead from him.

And, worst of all – it seemed like Goro's persistent headache had returned too, clearly content picking the most inconvenient of times for its reappearance.

Fine, Goro thought with gnarled teeth when Akira gave him another smug wink after bagging another ball. Fine.

Two could play this game.

The next time it was Goro's turn, he intentionally picked a wider angle, leaned over the table with the cue stretching over half of it and pushed his ass up in the air.

He felt Akira's eyes on him with an intensity so high, it seemed to burn holes right through him and felt a shiver run down his spine.

So that was it then, he realised as he turned around and looked into darkened eyes, almost black now, never having left Goro, not even to watch his shot. The proof he had wanted, craved, delivered to him on a silver platter.

Akira wanted him.

Goro grinned cheekily.

“Something the matter, Akira-kun?”

There they were again – pictures of himself pressed against the wall, still holding his billiards cue and looking up to Akira with wide, surprised eyes, of his lips and how shiny and pink they would be after being kissed swollen, how good they'd look around Akira's cock-

God, just how horny was he?

Akira shook his head softly and turned back to the table, looking a little dazed.

Goro grinned at him as he watched him miss his shot dramatically – at least he wasn't the only horny one, he thought when he noticed that Akira's hands were trembling lightly.

“Are you alright?” he asked, giving his voice just the right amount of over the top-concern. “You suddenly seem awfully distracted.”

“You're so full of shit,” Akira replied with a shaky laugh that Goro couldn't help but join in.

“Yeah well, takes one to know one.” He looked down at the table and realised he could barely remember anything that actually happened in their game anymore. “How about we finish this game and start a new one without any sabotage?” he suggested and watched Akira avert his eyes to the floor bashfully.

“Could we maybe... play a match of darts instead? I'm better at that and I-”

He broke off, biting his lip sheepishly.

“You what?” Goro asked, surprised by the softness in his own voice.

“I really want to get to go out with you again,” Akira finally sighed.

Goro felt warm all over, his entire body heating up at the thought of this boy having spent the last hour desperately trying to beat him in a game he had no foot in to make sure they'd get to have another date.

“Akira,” he breathed, stepping closer as he watched these magical eyes shoot up and widen in surprise. Goro looked around, once, twice, making sure that no one was watching them, then pressed his lips against Akira's gently, nothing more than a short, warm brush but enough to make his heart skip several beats, to want more so desperately. He pulled himself away regardless, taking a step back with a smirk as he watched Akira's face go through several expressions. “That was always a given,” he assured him, then effortlessly bagged in the last ball and dropped his billiards cue. “But darts sounds good, actually.”

The worst his headache got, the more dazzled Goro's thoughts became. A mix of want and distracted yearning for Akira, something he had always experienced at some level but amplified in the cozy atmosphere of Penguin Sniper, so close to him.

They highfived after every turn, a cheesy gesture Akira insisted on and if their hands lingered after every single one, the other made it a point not to mention. Akira was better at darts, effortlessly keeping up with Goro at every turn and they cleared several scores before finally deciding to leave and find something to eat somewhere.

The cool evening air did miracles to clear Goro's head and he sucked it in in relief.

“Hey,” Akira said after they walked a few steps. “Can I hold your hand?”

Goro gave him a sharp glance from the side.

“Absolutely not.”

He'd expected him to back off, to nod shyly, to feel rejected, to decide Goro wasn't worth the stress like everyone always did, but instead he chuckled gently.

“Why do you always have to act so grumpy?” he asked in good humour.

“I'm not acting,” Goro told him seriously. “I am that way. Get used to it or we can end this right here.”

Akira shook his head with a click of his tongue.

“No, you're not,” he finally said. “I can tell for a fact you want me to hold your hand. You're just too proud to admit it and play hard to get instead. Why?”

Goro blinked at him, feeling heat rise and colour his cheeks red.

“What- How do you- what would you know about this,” he finally brought out with a huff, turning forwards again to keep walking, his steps speeding up.

Akira shrugged.

“I'm good at reading people. I figured you out pretty quickly, really. You constantly hide behind your prickly mask. I just don't get why?”

Goro stopped moving abruptly, almost making Akira run into him before he came to a slithering halt too, staring at him.

“Because you'll leave too,” he finally told him, voice quiet. “Like everyone else. Like my father did.”

“... Your father?” Akira asked cautiously.

“I try not to talk about him,” Goro explained. “I don't even like thinking about him. Everything – It's all his fault. I don't even know him but...- My mother. She works so hard. She works so hard but it's never enough, hardly enough to get us through. And everyone looks down on her, on both of us. And I know, I know that it's my fault. I know she must lie awake at night, wishing I was never born but she never says, she just- She deserves so much better. She deserves so much better than a bastard child dragging her down, unable to make friends, unable to be... to be anything special, anyone good enough. Nothing I do will ever be good enough.”

Akira looked absolutely stunned, frozen in shock and Goro himself immediately wished he could bite off his own tongue. What the hell was he doing, unloading all of this on the first boy who had ever showed any interest in him?

“I'm sorry,” he said, averting his eyes. “I'm sorry, I don't know why I told you all of this – Somehow I feel like I can tell you everything, like you understand but-”

Akira stepped forwards, quickly taking both his hands in his and holding them, squeezing them reassuringly. Goro raised his head, looking at him with wide eyes.

“You can. Tell me everything,” Akira promised. “And I do understand. I really do – But it's not your fault, Goro. It's not your fault that your father's gone and it's not your fault how society treated your mother since. You're just caught in between all this.”

“If I was never born-” he said but Akira interrupted him swiftly.

“If you were never born, I'd be miserable today. A wreck. A gay ship without a haven,” he said with a little grin, making Goro smile beside himself. “I know how you feel – really. My parents sent me here and haven't called me even once. They're happy just erasing me from their lives, pretending like I have never lived for the sake of their own reputations. But your mum didn't choose to do that – because she loves you, Goro, she loves you very much and she decided you're worth it – whatever the world will throw at you two. You have each other.”

Goro swallowed and nodded.

“Fucking fine,” he finally said after a long moment of loaded silence. “Fine. You can hold my hand, I guess.”

Akira, angel that he was, failed to mention that he was already holding both of his hands and let one of them go, comfortably falling into a slow pace besides Goro as they walked through the streets of Kichijoji, his thumb drawing little comforting circles onto the back of Goro's hand.

They kissed again that evening when they separated, another soft brush of their lips that left Goro wanting more but also filled with him a weird warmth he'd rarely ever felt before.

“Hey,” Akira whispered at him, stepping closer to be heard over the sound of the arriving trains, his breath ghosting over Goro's face. “Would you like to come to Leblanc tomorrow? We could talk in private – there's some things I'd like to tell you.”

“Leblanc?” Goro asked blankly. “Ah. The café you live in?”

Akira nodded. “I can send you the address. Sojiro asked me to help out a little on the weekends but it's usually very quiet, so I'll definitely have time for you.”

Goro had homework he had neglected for quite some days now. Goro had not come a single step closer to find out who had broken Kamoshida's mind. Goro hadn't had a quiet minute for himself in days.

Goro agreed without a second thought.

So this was what it was like then – being in love.

At day time, it was a hazy, giddy feeling, consuming him, making him feel too much and no enough all at the same time. He wanted to wrap himself around Akira and never let go again, make him part of him and kiss him until they both got dizzy. He'd laughed so much around him, felt so much, had his heart beating out of his chest in blind, overwhelming happiness.

Had felt accepted, understood and comfortable.

But now it was nighttime and Akira wasn't there and Goro felt all his earlier worries crash back down on him, as he curled himself around a jacket that didn't smell like him anymore. What if he was too much? What if he was too negative? What if Akira grew sick of him? What if once he got to know him, he realised Goro wasn't at all what he had wanted, just a pretty face with a rotten heart?

He'd spent months by now, investigating Akira's entire friend's group. None of them were like Goro. They were open and cheerful and sweet and caring.

Goro realised now that he'd been an idiot – none of them could have it in them, frankly, to break Kamoshida as efficiently and cruelly as he had been broken, not even the ones affected by his horrible actions the worst.

(Goro would've done it though. If Goro had the power, he wouldn't even have thought about it twice. How could Akira ever love someone capable of that?)

Ann was a shining light burning bright. Sakomoto was an idiot with a heart of gold. Mishima was a puppy unable to step out of anyone's shadow, let alone make a decision for himself. Sumire was a beacon of kindness never wavering. Haru and Nijiima, they were gentle, well-behaved and cautious. Yusuke was an eccentric soul too focused on his art to notice anything they didn't directly point him to and Futaba – Well, she was Futaba. The girl still freaked out when she was the centre of anyone's attention.

And in the middle of all of it was Akira, so incredibly unaware that he was the one who had led all of them together, had made a tiny little family out of them, of how lucky he was to have their loyalty, of how special he was to all of them.

Akira, who always understood them, who always listened and always knew the right words to say.

Akira, who had been the first person to ever make Goro feel like he was a part of something, who had been the first person to understand that that was something Goro wanted.

Akira, who ever since he'd arrived at school, had dominated Goro's every thought, had taken over his mind to the point of blank confusion.

... Akira

... who...

... Who had immediately befriended Sakomoto and Ann upon his arrival, had been there when Suzui had broken down, had been there when Sakomoto was seen in Kamoshida's office, shouting at him.

Tearing his eyes open, Goro sat up straight in his bed, heart beating to his throat as he thought back to all the times they had talked in the last few weeks.

Akira catching him listening in on Sumire and Maruki. Akira beating him in Aikido by always anticipating his every move. Akira knowing how he liked his coffee. Akira letting him subtly know that all the people he suspected of sending him love letters were actually interested in someone else. The thoughts of himself, underneath Akira, all the intrusive thoughts of the last few weeks...

“Fuck,” he whispered into the dark, a shiver running down his spine as the truth settled somewhere deep in his guts. “Fuck, I'm such an idiot.”

So that's what all the writers had meant when they'd said “love makes blind”, then.

Goro Akechi had never thought that he could be blinded by anything in his search for the truth, but here he was – Finally realising that the culprit he'd been searching for had been right under his nose the entire time.

***

When Goro entered Leblanc, there were no customers in, just Sojiro behind the counter who'd been told Akira's “friend” would come by later and greeted him with a short “harrumph”, Sojiro-style.

Akira immediately grinned when he saw him, standing a little lost in the door and looking around the empty seats, his presence immediately demanding his full attention, like it always did.

Small, he heard him think. Cozy, though.

“Hey,” Akira greeted him, putting down the rag in his hand and getting the coffee started for his guest. “You came.”

“I told you I would,” Goro replied easily as he took one last look around and then picked a seat at the counter closest to Akira, sitting down elegantly.

Everything he did, he did with such grace – Akira couldn't help but be enthralled by it, had been from the very first time he'd seen him.

The gorgeous, quiet boy, sitting alone, feeling too good and too low for everyone else at the same time and carrying a secret so well-guarded with him, Akira had felt like a true criminal for immediately knowing it.

“It's different than I imagined it to be,” Goro said out loud.

He looks like he belongs here, he said in his head.

Next to Akira, Sojiro snorted.

Time to get the hell out of here – Never seen that kid look at someone that way.

Akira tried his best not to blush as Sojiro announced that he was going to the movies with Futaba now.

“Watch the shop, will you?”

“Just make sure she doesn't eat my bag of my popcorn again like last time,” he laughed and Sojiro left with a little chuckle of his own, shaking his head in affection.

When he turned back around, he had Goro's watchful eyes on him – always on him, sharp and way too smart and attentive and so expressive, even if he didn't know it, the red darkening to different shades whenever he got all his naughty naughty thoughts about him.

God, Akira wanted him so much.

“He must trust you a lot,” he told him while Akira poured in his coffee. “To leave you alone in his shop. Must be gratifying after what you told me you went through.”

He seemed genuinely interested, from what Akira could hear from his thoughts. Genuinely happy for him too, which was sweet. He'd expected a sting of jealousy but found nothing of the sort.

Akira looked up from his work with a little smile.

“It is – I had to work hard to earn his trust, but I'm glad I got there. He's a good man.”

One of the very best, in Akira's humble opinion.

He offered Goro a steaming cup of coffee from Sojiro's best beans and leaned back, watched him trace the rim of his cup with his fingers instead of drinking.

“Not from a thermos today,” he joked, suddenly feeling the need to lighten the mood. He reached out for Goro's thoughts and found calculated emptiness for a moment, his thoughts completely transfixed on circling the cup.

Hm.

“Thank you,” Goro said, absent-mindedly, then looked up, one of his forced sweet-smiles on the lips – Akira liked those, always had admired his talent for acting, but he liked the real ones a lot more. Seeing Goro genuinely happy was such a rare treat – one he wanted to do anything in his power for to see more often. “You said you wanted to talk to me about something?”

Right.

It had been a bit of a spur of a moment decision – Akira had made it a point not to tell anyone about his powers. He tried not to abuse them too much, never wanted to pry in his friends private thoughts if he could avoid it (most time he couldn't) but when they had kissed, when Goro had opened up about things he hadn't even thought of before, it had almost felt like betrayal not to tell him.

Now there he sat and it was difficult to bring out the words.

He raised a hand subconsciously, playing with a lock of his hair and heard Goro's thoughts stream into his mind.

He's doing the thing again, he thought. Does he know it's one of his easiest tells? He has to. He's been reading my thoughts after all.

Ah.

Akira fought the smile that was threatening to give him away.

That was his smart Goro – he'd figured it out on his own. Of course he had.

Mind-reading cockroach, Goro thought, and while Akira sensed some of his usual huffiness, he seemed... not freaked out. Or even genuinely angry. Which he decided to take as a good sign.

He grinned.

“Figured it out yourself, it seems.”

“With no help of you,” Goro replied with narrowed eyes.

“Well, I was curious to see how long it would take you – your detective games were kind of funny.”

“I am glad you were amused by me making a fool of myself,” Goro sighed, letting his gaze drop and his thoughts spill freely.

Images of him running around Sumire, Mishima, Ann, all while Akira had been in the background, aware of his every move and thought.

Again, Akira felt the need to hide himself behind a lock of his hair, but decided to do what he did best instead – take the flirty way out.

He leaned over the counter, resting his chin on the palm of his hand and looked up to Goro with heavily-lidded eyes.

Critical hit, he thought as Goro's mind blanked out. Hah!

“I loved how you suspected everyone but me. You clearly were too busy thinking about other things.”

Goro let out a little laugh betraying his grumpy facade and shook his head with his eyes closed for a second.

“Yes, well. The question remains how many of these thoughts were actually mine.”

He was so smart. Akira couldn't help the mix of pride and joy swelling in his chest like an overgrown balloon. Just look at him, figuring it all out.

“About seventy percent, roughly,” Akira grinned. “I pride myself of only having amplified thoughts you already had.” He nervously played with a lock of his hair. “Well, except for... errr... There have been moments I had problems keeping my own thoughts in. I'm still very sorry about that.”

Goro looked down into his cup, smirking.

“The fountain incident, I assume? Got that excited to see me wet?”

“Well... yeah,” Akira replied clumsily. “But also you kept on thinking about how pretty Sumire is and I uhm... I got kinda of...”

Goro's eyes shot open and he could hear his confusion in his thoughts, a steady stream of genuine surprise at the notion that someone could be craving his attention enough to be jealous.

But brilliant, talented Goro didn't let a single of his thoughts shine through even when he had to already know that Akira knew, hid them away like the rest of him, like he had his incredible power, so carefully, so impressively.

“Well, let's just say I'm actually relieved to find out the intense desire to fuck myself wasn't coming from my own twisted mind,” Goro replied, smiling. “For a moment there I thought I was going insane.”

God, he sounded so calm as he talked about getting fucked that Akira kind of wanted to be pressed against a wall and hear him order him around in that tone of voice, casually say the word “fuck” in his ear, wanted that unimpressed impression on his face as he stepped on him and...-

Goro cleared his throat loudly. “Akira!”

Akira blinked and reigned his thoughts back in hastily, a sheepish grin on his lips. “Sorry. Sometimes it just uhm...”, he waved his hands aimlessly, “... happens. I've gotten better at controlling it, but you... Well. You're you.”

Goro smirked, because of course he did – smug bastard.

Oh, I'll be getting back to this later, he thought and Akira wondered if he did this on purpose now or not. It was hard to tell and it sent a thrill through him that excited him.

“I assume this is the truth about why you had to leave your home town, then?”

Goro finally took a sip of his coffee and Akira enjoyed the way his entire thoughts seemed to lighten in pleasure like they always did when he drank his coffee or ate his curry, then let his mind wander back to... that day.

“Yeah,” he finally sighed. “I tried to hide it the way you did but... people figured it out. One by one. I was too perceptive, knew too many things I didn't know I shouldn't know – it was so seamless, growing up with it, so hard to keep apart sometimes. I was confused and overwhelmed by all the information I had. When you're a kid, it's difficult not to spill it all out. It became a bit of an open secret. More and more people started rumours of me being a demon king or some shit like that – you know, church mums, mostly.”

“Hm yeah,” Goro hummed. “They can be quite nasty, can't they?”

A bastard child, he heard a snobby women's voice in Goro's mind say. Whores herself out and then comes to church? Pathetic.

Akira grimaced.

“I'm sorry.”

Goro blinked at him for a moment then huffed.

“Right. You heard that. That... might take some time to get used to, honestly.”

Akira bit his lip, looking down.

“I can tune it out, if I concentrate real hard on something else,” he explained. “I don't want to pry but it's difficult not to. I- I understand if you don't like it, if it's too much-”

One of Sojiro's coffee bags slapped him softly from behind, surprising Akira as he turned around just in time to watch it sink back onto its spot in the shelf on his own. He laughed.

“It's fine,” Goro said. “More than fine, actually.”

They sat in silence for a while, Goro enjoying his coffee while Akira heard his thoughts go in circles. Finally, he broke the silence.

“So, Kamoshida...”

Akira's gaze hardened. “He had it coming.”

Goro nodded, calmly. “I agree.”

“I'm not a threat for you,” Akira promised him. “I won't tell anyone about you – ever.”

Shaking his head lightly, Goro sighed.

“And neither will I. Your secret's safe with me. Though I have to say – I'm rather curious. How did you do it?”

Akira shrugged uncomfortably – it wasn't exactly one of his favourite things to do, as much as he had been convinced that Kamoshida deserved it.

“I basically bombarded him with thoughts until his mind broke. Suggestions of guilt, the desperation of his victims – I've felt it all. So I sent it back to where it belonged, let it break him down.”

So fucking hot, he heard Goro think and shivered pleasantly.

“You... like that?” he asked, stunned. So far, he's only ever been treated like a dangerous freak for it. By his parents, his friends, everyone who'd eventually realised. He'd been scared, so scared, that Goro would turn him down once he learned of his ruthlessness and now...

Goro's thoughts where a whirlwind he could only fish pieces out of.

... Thought he was too good for me... but we're the same... equals...

Akira smiled, felt his body heat up, fuelled by Goro's own frantic desire rising.

“I don't regret it, you know. I'd do it again,” he admitted just to stoke the fire and felt it flare in response.

And his next thoughts – Akira couldn't be sure – he just couldn't be - if they were meant for him at all or not but he liked to imagine that they were.

You know every deepest secret of mine, every ugly thought I hid from the world, everything there's to learn about me and you still want me. I didn't even think something like that was possible.

The nicest thing, Akira thought as he stepped around the counter to finally kiss him the way they both wanted to be kissed, was how Goro's mind got wiped clean whenever he got close. For a few blissful seconds, there was absolutely nothing but radio silence and sensations and lust and content and want and yearning all bleeding into his own, getting strong and stronger and almost catapulting Akira out of this reality into nothing but their shared emotions, sinking, drowning, barely feeling those soft lips against his own anymore, barely feeling the teeth gently nibbling at his lower lip, the tongue meeting his own hungrily and then...

Then he was suddenly so wrapped up in Goro Akechi, it was way too late to escape. Hands running up and down his chest, thoughts returning to them, possessive and dirty and wonderful and impossible to tell which came from which of them. Akira was trapped in a net of his choosing and he let himself fall deeper into it, willingly tangled up his limps in the meshes.

Their minds seemed to blur into one as they stumbled up the stairs, led by Goro, his hands still wrapped around Akira's waist. Akira didn't wonder how he knew that he had his bedroom upstairs, Goro didn't ask if he wanted him there, their thoughts were one and the same wonderful string of nothing but pure want, looped back at the other in an endless circle until they seemed to explode from it.

They stumbled on the last stairs, falling to the floor and when Akira blinked, trying to get up and drag Goro to the bed, the bed instead flew to them. Goro looked smug as he rolled both of them onto the mattress, going back to kissing Akira's beautifully swollen lips – Aha, that had to be one of Goro's – enjoyed the way his teeth left indents on the bruised-looking red.

“Gorgeous,” he whispered against his lips even though they both knew there were no words needed. Akira thought even the breath left a beautiful ache, his entire body so sensitive from the sensation being looped to Goro and back to him as a weaker echo again and again until it faded out, sizzling at the edges.

“Kiss me again,” Akira whispered back and Goro did, his hands disappearing underneath his shirt, skin on skin, fingertips tracing his muscles, nails scraping over his skin and leaving him breathless.

“Fuck,” he gasped. “Fuck that's so hot.”

Normal sex didn't feel like that. He was sure it shouldn't feel like that – He never wanted this to stop, though.

Neither of them did.

Goro pulled his shirt off then hurled it through the entire room with his mind – Akira could feel the power surging through him as he did, felt his elation as if it was his own. They took off more clothes and threw them through the room, enjoying the energy running through them everytime they did.

“It's like I can do it,” Akira told him. “It's like I'm the one throwing them.”

“It's like I can read your thoughts,” Goro gasped back breathlessly as they rutted together, unable to fight the urge, completely driven out of their minds by lust. “Fuck, fuck, faster, harder.”

They ended up coming messily on each other, hard cocks rubbing together and for a moment, both their minds blanked, left them with nothing but white noise so overwhelming, they felt like they passed out.

“Still hard,” Goro mumbled after a while, to no one's surprise.

“Fuck me,” Akira begged, rolling onto his stomach and Goro was already halfway moving to climb on top of him, lips parted mindlessly. He let his fingers run through the cum on his own thighs – and fuck if that wasn't hot – and clumsily prepared Akira with his fingers, turning them both into a panting mess.

“More, more,” Akira pleaded and Goro had tears in his eyes from the intensity of a pleasure that wasn't his but was now.

He added more fingers, thrust them into Akira's hole to the hilt until they both couldn't take it anymore.

He pulled them out, let out a whine of himself echoed even louder by Akira, then stepped closer with wobbling knees – Akira knew because he felt the wobble, felt it like it was his own – and thrust in.

God, it was bliss. Akira was getting fucked and fucked at the same time. His cock felt engulfed even untouched, wonderful tight heat sucking him in, tightening around him as he sunk inside. Goro had his eyes closed, whimpering behind him, standing entirely still for a moment.

So full, he thought and Akira thought and it was hard to tell who had started the thought but now it bounced in their heads endlessly. So tight, so full, so beautiful, all true at the same time.

He began thrusting slowly, gentle moves that left them both desperate for more but they enjoyed it, the frantic need building and building until they finally couldn't take it anymore and Goro drew back almost completely before thrusting in hard and fast, burying himself to the hilt inside Akira again and again, the little attic room filled with mindless filthy moans and slapping noises and and nothing more.

“Can't... hold... much longer,” Akira brought out through gritted teeth.

“I know, I know! Just-”

It was impossible to say who came first, one orgasm triggering the other with brutal intensity. Goro passed out on top of Akira and they both tried so hard to catch their breath. He felt so heavy on him, pinning him down... His cock felt so overly sensitive when it had barely been touched, chafing against the mattress and...

“Still hard,” Akira mumbled into his sheets. They smelled of sweat and sex and Goro now.

“I know,” Goro replied, hands gripping Akira's hips and turning him back around. They kissed sloppily, heated bodies against another, sticky and perfectly slotting into one another, right where they belonged.

Goro kissed his way down and Akira squirmed beneath him, hands in his hair, pulling him closer against his skin. There weren't any thoughts anymore, they just were – Floating, contently, happily, until hot lips wrapped around Akira's cock and he saw stars and Goro saw stars and the entire world exploded in stars.

“Fuck so good, so good, so good, don't stop.”

Never, Goro promised in his mind and Akira distantly managed to admire him for still thinking, felt his chuckle around his cock and in his mind, sent the sensation back and enjoyed the mindless moan he got in reply even more, the shiver of the man desperately swallowing down his cock.

Akira felt it in his throat too, closing off Goro's air and depriving him of oxygen along with him. For a moment, they both enjoyed choking on Akira's cock, then he pulled back, lips still tight around him, tongue twirling, fingers massaging his balls and – fuck he simply couldn't hold it anymore, couldn't warn him, didn't need to and came dry into Goro's beautiful mouth, stretched around his cock, gorgeous and even more gorgeous as Goro came untouched from the sensation of his orgasm alone, cock twitching even as not a drop was left to spill.

Fuck, one of them thought to the other and they crashed down onto the mattress, finally sated, breathless, covered in sweat and cum and not giving a single care in the world.

It took them several minutes to untangle their minds again, even longer to come down from the high they'd just been on. Once Akira had his mind and breath back, he rolled onto his side to wrap his arms around Goro, pulling him close to his body, searching for his warmth and blindly fumbling for the corner of his blanket until he found it, pulled it near and covered them both.

“What're you doing?” mumbled Goro, voice already heavy from exhaustion, his eyes fluttering shut – Akira saw his eyelashes against his sheets and thought he was the luckiest man alive.

“Cuddling. It's nice, you'll like it.”

Oh, Goro thought, too sleepy to keep his mind in check, I never cuddle, I bet I suck at it.

But Akira wouldn't let him – he kissed his shoulder, kissed his neck, pulled Goro closer towards him, intertwined his legs with his and listened to him breathing, then sent his own content back to Goro and Goro whimpered quietly in response, happiness flooding him.

“Can you get the light?” Akira asked and smiled when he heard the switch click without Goro even moving.

So fucking hot.

They fell asleep wrapped up in each other and in utter peace.

***

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Akira asked, unnecessarily, for what had to be the fifteenth time.

“Please,” Goro replied. “I have to know.”

“I just think it's spying, is all. She's your own mother.”

“I have to know,” insisted Goro. “You don't understand.”

“No,” Akira replied, a hand immediately reaching for his cheek, a little smile tugging at his lips as Goro leaned into the touch, rubbed against his palm happily. They did that, now – Casually touching like that, that was now something Goro Akechi did. And he'd figured out that he liked it very much, actually. “I do. I understand. You know I do.”

Of course he did.

Goro turned his head, kissing the palm of his hand once, then smiled.

“Then please – let's just do this.”

And Akira sighed, let his shoulders hang, but nodded.

“Okay.”

He let his hand sink and wrapped it around Goro's and Goro used the one still free to unlock the door and step in.

“Mum!” he called. “I'm home!”

She stepped out of the kitchen, looking as tired as she always did after her first shifts, but smiled at him nonetheless.

“Hello honey. Oh,” her eyes widened as she saw Akira, who was standing in the hallways sheepishly, turning on all his charm.

“Hello! My name is Kurusu Akira.” He even bowed a little before her.

His mother glanced at Goro, who grinned back at her widely.

“He's my boyfriend,” he told her and the word felt foreign on his tongue, new but refreshing and he decided he liked the taste of it.

Akira shot him a proud grin.

“Very nice to meet you ma'am.”

“Oh!” She looked so happy – Goro had rarely seen her this happy, now that he thought about it. “Akira, is it? The boy with the jacket? Oh that's wonderful – Come in, come in, you must be hungry, you kids just came from school, didn't you? I made enough for three, come on, sit down. It's wonderful to meet you.”

She's sweet, Akira thought back to him and Goro felt his heart swell.

Tentatively, cautiously, offering him a chance to push him out if he wanted to, Akira projected some of his mother's thoughts to him – they came in little pieces but they filled Goro with something he'd never felt before.

... never seen him so happy before. God, he looks like he makes him happy. He deserves to be happy. Maybe everything will be alright now. Maybe I haven't failed him after all.

... always thought he needed a father – not that one though, never that one.

... couldn't be enough. Maybe with this kid. That has to be enough, right?

... He looks so happy! This kid will be good for him.

Goro blinked, suddenly feeling tears fill his eyes.

“Mum,” he said, stepping forwards and she stopped busying herself on the table for a second, taking one look at him and taking him in her arms.

“What's wrong, darling?”

“I love you. I love you so much, you know that, yeah?”

“Oh, darling, I love you too.”

They hugged and it felt like Akira was part of the hug, even as he stood in the back, politely looking at the embarrassing baby photos of Goro on the wall (crap, he'd forgotten about those), wanting to give them some privacy.

They're cute.

They're not! Stop looking at them.

Too late, burned into my mind.

He sent him a picture of them as proof and Goro wanted to kill him but he supposed a blood bath in front of his mum would be inappropriate.

Instead, he stole food from his plate whenever he could get away with it, knowing full well that Akira let him but ignoring the fact for the sake of his incredibly nasty revenge plot.

A true evil mastermind, Akira thought at him dryly.

And Goro just smiled.

“Did you get the name?” he asked Akira later that day in his room, voice lowered even though his mother had long gone to bed.

He quite liked sharing an actual bed with Akira (even though he supposed the shabby Leblanc mattress on the shabby milk crates now held forever a sort of magic over him and he sort of hated Akira for that). There was space enough to roll around in and the sheets and pillows were soft and they were currently both holding back in order to not ruin that with more excellent sex.

(Though Goro had watched Akira's grin widen at the sight of his own jacket lying in his bed and kissed it right off his face for quite a while.)

“Masayoshi Shido,” Akira said with a glint in his eyes.

Goro sat up straight.

“What, the future prime minister?”

“Not once we're done with him,” Akira smirked. “Not anymore.

Goro laid back, stunned. When his mother had told him he was dangerous, that she wouldn't tell him who he was, had begged him to stay away, he had had no idea just how dangerous he was.

Was he really gonna do this? Take on Japan's Prime Minister-to-be?

Akira nudged him in the side playfully.

“Hey, it'll be easy. I'll spy out all his dirty little schemes and we'll find a way to get them out in the open. With our combined power, this will be child's play. And if I have to break his mind too, I'll do it.”

Goro sighed.

All the fucker had to do was pay regular child support to help him and his mother through their shitty lives after his shitty abandonment and he hadn't even done that properly.

A politician.

He had the money.

He had always known that he had the money.

Goro had always despised that Shido-fucker. He had always seemed fake to him. He had always noticed the way his mother tensed up when he showed up on TV. Now it all made sense.

“Let's take him down,” he whispered into the dark.

And Akira kissed him tenderly.

“First, I'll kick your ass in chess.”

Goro's eyes widened as a sudden through crashed through him.

“Oh my God!” he called out. “I will never beat you in chess. You absolute fucker.”

Another pause, another realisation that crashed through him.

“You fucking cheated in billiards.”

He thought it was worth it, though. The sound of Akira's laughter was pretty much worth anything.