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The first time Ren sees Akechi after the TV station, he has to stop walking, turn around, and do a double take.
Akechi Goro, famous TV personality, is just standing there outside Penguin Sniper with his briefcase in hand, staring blankly into space, not even an umbrella or awning over his head to shield him from the drizzle. It immediately strikes Ren as both really weird and kinda charming.
"What's going on?" Morgana shifts around and pops his head out of the bag. "Isn't that Akechi? Wait, what's he doing?"
Ren shrugs and peeks out from behind his umbrella. Somehow Akechi hasn't noticed him yet, but he's bound to at any second now. "Dunno. Should I ask him?"
"What!? You're just gonna walk up and ask?" Morgana squawks.
"Couldn't hurt, right?" Maybe Akechi will let something slip about the Phantom Thieves. Maybe he wouldn't mind having another chat with Ren about his thesis or whatever.
"Alright," Morgana relents. "But don't be too direct. Remember, we can't make him suspicious of us, no matter what." He dives back into the bag, safely tucked away from prying detective eyes.
Ren steels himself. He can do this without making it weird. Well, okay, he's only spoken to Akechi twice and he's pretty sure it's already weird, but like, in a good way, so...
It'll be fine. Probably.
Suddenly, Akechi blinks and starts like someone gave his hardware a good smack, his eyes locking onto Ren with surprising intensity. "Amamiya-kun? What are you doing here?"
Ren squashes his spike of panic and shrugs nonchalantly—a skill he's honed to perfection, thank god—and then walks a little closer to stand at a safely conversational distance. He's lost his first strike advantage, but the battle is far from over. "Nothing much. Just running some errands."
"Ah—of course." Akechi glances down and shifts his briefcase to his other hand. Rain trickles down his bare arms in rivulets, leaving a sheen on his skin that glows under the lights. Somehow his hair and clothes aren't totally soaked yet, so—well. Maybe Ren can make something work here if he's careful.
Morgana's voice echoes in his head: don't be too direct. "What about you?" Ren asks casually.
"I'm waiting for someone to meet me here," Akechi explains, just as casual. He runs a hand through his hair, frizzy from the humidity and thoroughly damp, and sighs despondently. "Although, I can't say I expected this rain. It does rather complicate things a bit."
Complicated doesn't begin to describe the way Ren feels right now. "That's too bad," he says.
Akechi gives him a small, tired chuckle. "I agree. It'd be much more interesting to spend the time with you instead, but alas, obligation calls."
Fuck, this is so bad. Ren can't stop the stupid grin from spreading across his face. "I was talking about the rain, but wow, I'm flattered." As soon as the words leave his mouth he feels Morgana kick him through the bag with as much force as his little paws can muster.
Akechi, however, just blinks at him in disbelief, and then he laughs—and it even reaches his eyes this time. "I see I'll have to be more careful with my words around you, hmm?" he says, his voice dipping playfully. "Though I will admit, it's refreshing to hear you say directly what's on your mind. It's not every day I get to talk to someone like this."
Don't be too direct. Ren swallows down the metallic tang in the air along with the last of his nerves.
"Well, I've got time," he says, pivoting to stand next to Akechi so he can hold the umbrella between them, shielding them both from the rain. His elbow bumps into Akechi's, and this close to him he can see all the lights around them reflected in the dark pools of his eyes.
It's impossible to tell what he's thinking.
"What about your errands? I wouldn't want to keep you from something important," Akechi says after a long pause.
"I finished 'em already. Didn't quite feel like going home yet, though, so this works out." All technically true—Ren's getting better at this.
But Akechi still isn't convinced. "Surely you have better things to do than to waste your time standing here," he says, inclining his head. His bangs fall over his eyes and he brushes them back carefully.
Is he dropping hints telling Ren to go away? But if he was, he wouldn't be standing so close under the umbrella, right? He wouldn't keep looking at Ren like that... right?
"Well, I wouldn't call it a waste." If you know what I mean. Morgana can keep kicking him all he likes, but there's something here. Ren can feel it.
Akechi looks away, out at the street in front of them—all the brightly lit shop windows, the flashy neon signs, the people walking by, the eateries—and then he looks back at Ren.
"If you say so," he says with a smile.
"Where in the world are you taking us?"
Ren points at the copse of trees at the top of the hill. "Up there. There's a shady spot."
Next to him, Akechi sighs. "Warn me beforehand next time, will you? I would've changed into better shoes had I known you were going to bring me on a hike."
First of all, he's overreacting—the hill isn't even that steep, or that tall, and the grassy slope is perfectly walkable in his pointy leather shoes. Second, the sweater vest probably poses more of a health hazard than anything else he's wearing, especially in this broiling midday heat.
But Ren doesn't say any of that. "You wanted a secluded spot," he points out.
"I did," Akechi concedes, bringing his hand up to shade his eyes from the sun. "Nothing in life comes without its challenges, I suppose."
They start climbing.
It takes no more than five minutes, but by the time they slide into the sanctuary of the shade, Ren is painfully aware that he's underestimated the hill. He's sweating despite his short sleeves and superior shoes, and Akechi certainly looks much worse for wear, his face red as a tomato and his hair sticking to his temples, but somehow he's barely even out of breath.
Ren collapses onto the grass and rolls onto his back, breathing hard. A humid breeze kicks up, cooling his sticky skin and ruffling his hair, and up above him the verdant leaves rustle and scatter sunlight in rippling patterns on the ground. The sky is violently blue and endlessly deep, framed by tree branches this time instead of skyscrapers.
Akechi's face pops into view, and Ren turns his head to the side to look at him. His silhouette is striking against the brilliant blue ether as he slowly takes the last few steps up to where Ren lays in the grass.
In one smooth motion, he pulls his sweater vest off over his head and tosses it at Ren. "Hold this for me."
It lands directly on Ren's face. The fabric is stifling and heavy, but it's soft and smells really nice. Probably laundry detergent or Akechi's shampoo, and—something else. He takes another deep breath, but all it does is stir something in his gut that he'd been doing his best to forget about. God, there's no way in hell he's this weak, is there? He grabs the sweater vest and moves it off of his face, blinking against the bright light.
Akechi is in the middle of rolling up the sleeves of his white button down, unbuttoning the cuffs and folding them over themselves meticulously until they sit snugly around his toned forearms. Logically, Ren knows that Akechi has arms—he's even seen them before, multiple times—but for some reason he can't unglue his eyes from them.
Sighing, Akechi sinks gracefully into a cross-legged sit next to Ren. He pops open the top button of his shirt and gathers up his long hair where it had been sticking to his neck, pulling it all to one side and letting it fall in a soft, elegant curtain.
The seconds roll by slowly in the haze. They let the time pass, breathing and listening to the cicadas and not saying anything.
Akechi is the one to break the silence. "You picked quite the place," he says, peering down at Ren.
Even his small talk is like an onion. Or an iceberg. "You like it?" Ren grins up at him.
"Hm." Akechi looks away, gazing out at the sprawling steel glimmer of the heart of Tokyo in the distance. From here, the conflict looming over their heads seems so distant—if only for a little while, Ren can forget his fears and his burdens and the fact that he's not supposed to trust Akechi, and just lay in the shade and let himself be content with the person next to him.
But the city is still there, waiting. The two of them will have to go back eventually. Maybe that's the part Akechi is thinking about, with that furrow in his brow like he's already dreading the return.
They're not here to think about that, though, so Ren nudges Akechi's hip with his elbow. "That's not an answer."
Akechi turns, blinking in surprise as if he just remembered that Ren's there next to him. "Pardon?"
"I said, 'hm' isn't an answer." The grass flutters in the breeze and tickles Ren's skin; he tugs at a clump of it in half-hearted retaliation.
"Oh. No, I suppose it isn't." Akechi's expression flattens out again and he watches Ren with a quiet focus. "Were you looking for a real answer?"
When has he ever given real answers? "Sure," Ren says.
Akechi doesn't move or say anything. Does he hate it? Would he rather have gone somewhere with air conditioning? All these secrets are locked up inside his head, tantalizingly out of reach.
Silently, he scoots forward and uncurls his body, laying his head on the grass next to Ren's with his feet pointing the opposite direction. Ren turns his head—Akechi's upside-down face is close to his, so close that Ren can feel his breath and drink in his heady scent and count the faint freckles scattered beneath his dark eyes.
"I do like it," Akechi says simply. "Thank you."
Something bright bubbles up within Ren, and he grins. "Any time."
Thank god he got over his stupid crush already, or he never would've recovered from seeing Akechi bite his lip and look away at such proximity, or watching him pretend to brush his bangs out of his face. He wouldn't have been able to stop daydreaming of running his hands through Akechi's sun-warm hair, pooled on the grass beneath his head like honey, or the taste of that bottom lip between his teeth.
He's definitely not thinking about any of that right now, though. It's fine, and Ren is completely normal about it.
They lay there side by side, almost looking at each other but not quite. It's a crime that this afternoon has to end eventually—Ren can't even remember the last time he felt like this, and it's a crime that he might never feel like this again.
A cool breeze flows over them. Ren closes his eyes and shuts out the gleam of the skyscrapers in the distance.
As soon as the last person leaves the bath, Ren reaches over and adjusts the temperature down. He's only been in the water for a minute and already he feels light-headed from how hot it is, and he's not about to pass out tonight.
The other bather steps out into the changing area, and Ren is alone in the relative quiet. Above the constant rush of water from the faucet, he can hear the din of rain hammering the roof, lulling his mind into relaxing while the bath works on his muscles. He keeps his eyes on the entrance surreptitiously, watching blurry forms move around on the other side of the glass, just in case someone else comes in.
The water starts to feel like it's not quite hot enough anymore. He shifts over to sit next to the faucet and turns the temperature back up a notch, feeling the hotter currents hit his hips and legs and stomach first as they mix into the rest of the bath, soothing his body.
The sound of a stool scraping against the floor jars him out of his bliss. He glances up to see Akechi emerging from the washing area and walking towards him with a towel draped around his hips.
"Took you long enough," Ren croaks. He makes a token effort not to stare, by which he means he pretty much allows himself to stare openly.
Akechi folds his towel neatly before he gets in, sinking into the water opposite Ren with a heavy sigh of relief. "It doesn't count if we didn't agree it was a competition."
"Next time, then," Ren says before he can stop himself.
Akechi smirks at him. "Noted."
Just a couple of weeks ago in this exact same bath, this exact same boy had confided in Ren about being a bastard child, but now he's just being a bastard. Ren kind of hates how much he likes it.
"Would you mind making the bath a bit hotter? It feels a bit lukewarm," Akechi says, just to rub it in. Probably.
Ren is already starting to feel floaty, but he's pretty sure it has nothing to do with the temperature, so he obliges and cranks the hot water. It stings his skin as it splashes into the bath, steam billowing up in full force.
"How's that?" he asks.
"Perfect," Akechi sighs, low and soft and velvety, his cheeks dusted a lovely shade of pink. "You always know just what I need, Ren."
Beneath the surface of the water, Ren can make out the form of Akechi's long limbs as he stretches out his legs and sinks lower until the water laps around his collarbones, soaking the ends of his hair. The ripples distort the lines of his body and the steam makes it harder to see, but Ren's eyes keep wandering back to the creamy skin of his thighs and the thin slice of tile visible between them, and he has to try really, really hard not to think about the way Akechi said that, or what else he might need.
Akechi's foot bumps into Ren's shin. "Ah, sorry."
"Are you?" Ren snorts. Heat spreads from the point of contact and up his leg, lacing his blood like a heady poison.
"Do you want me to be?" Akechi shoots back without missing a beat. He tips his head back languidly and rests it against the edge of the bath, watching Ren through dark, half-lidded eyes, holding him in a scorching, inescapable gravity.
Ren has no idea how to answer that. What the fuck has he gotten himself into? All he can feel now is his heart thudding against his ribcage and the memory of the brief contact burning his skin.
There's a knot in Ren's stomach and his throat feels like sandpaper despite the humidity, and there must be nothing but steam where his brain used to be because he can't quite remember how they got here. He knows Akechi suggested it half an hour ago, and that's not the issue, but how did they get from not knowing what was between them to pretending they didn't know to—whatever this is? Simmering in the world's hottest bath with his body tingling all over, watching drops of condensation bead and roll down Akechi's neck and over his collarbone, thinking that what Akechi needs is for someone to take him down a notch, he needs someone—he needs Ren to hold him down and show him just how frustrating he's being until he—
Fuck. Ren's head is spinning out of control. He swallows past his dry throat and squeezes his eyes shut.
"Are you alright?"
Ren blinks his eyes open and spots float across his vision. Akechi is leaning towards him, his face now flushed a beautiful dark red.
"W-what?" Ren stammers.
"Is it getting too hot for you? You should get out before you lose consciousness," Akechi says, and he almost sounds normal. Almost.
Ren blinks a couple more times. "I'm fine." He's not fine.
"Hm." Akechi clears his throat, but the strain doesn't leave his voice. "Here, let me—let me adjust it." He gathers his long legs beneath him and wobbles onto his knees, water cascading down his arms and chest in rivulets.
Oh god. Oh god, he's coming over this way, and between not wanting to get banned from the only bathhouse on the block and wanting to touch him more than anything else in his entire life, Ren doesn't know what the fuck to do.
Akechi settles himself on the other side of the faucet like it's nothing. Like they're not almost shoulder to shoulder and also completely naked and three seconds away from doing something astronomically stupid in public.
"Let's see. Ah... here." He twists his body to reach the faucet, his leg shifting and brushing against Ren's, a searing kiss of skin.
And then it stays there. He doesn't take it back.
This bastard. This fucking bastard. He can play dumb and turn the stupid knob the wrong way all he wants, but he knows exactly what he's doing. He's trying to kill Ren slowly, bit by bit, driving him closer to the brink of insanity with every passing second.
Ren stares brainlessly at him, at all the imperfections that makeup and clothes and an arm's length of distance usually cover up—the shadows around his eyes, the birthmark on his shoulder, a long white scar running from his chest to his stomach. He needs to touch him, kiss the salt from his skin, let his fingers follow that scar down and down and feel Akechi gasp into his mouth, he needs, he needs—
"Ren?"
Akechi is staring back at him. Ren watches him swallow, his throat bobbing under bright red skin.
A muddled thought half-forms in Ren's mind: Akechi must want something. He wants something from Ren, specifically. He's sitting here with one leg in Ren's personal space, almost as if he's inviting him to slide his hand up his exposed inner thigh and see what kind of sound he'll make.
God. As if. Ren is going to perish right here in this bath.
Akechi, with his wide eyes and white-knuckled grip on the faucet, swears under his breath and turns off the water with four squeaky turns of the knob. He—gets up? He stumbles out of the bath, splashing water everywhere, and—he's leaving? Just like that?
Ren pushes himself up—or, he tries, pulling his feet back under him only to spill forwards into the water again. The world spins, a blur of steam and beige tile. He grips the edge of the bath and manages to stay upright through the delirious haze, staring at the door as it swings shut behind Akechi. If Ren goes now, he might be able to catch Akechi before he finishes changing, but—fuck, he's so dizzy.
What the hell happened? Ren forces himself to inhale, and then exhale. The air is so humid and stifling and the water is so unbearably hot. He should probably get out.
What did he do wrong? Maybe it's for the best that he's an idiot who can't stand up without falling over. He can't even think. Think—what did he do? What did he say? How the hell does he fix whatever just happened? Should he just forget it? There's no way he can just forget it. The memory alone sends a shiver through Ren's traitorous, aching body—the touches had to have been deliberate, just like the staring, and the bath, which would mean that Akechi ran away because—
Oh.
All of Ren's energy evaporates at once and he slumps back against the wall. Maybe he should've gone after Akechi after all. Maybe he should text him and tell him to come back, and maybe they can go back to the cafe and go upstairs and pick up where they left off.
Or maybe not, because there's no way they can keep this up, and no way that this will end well. He rests the back of his head against the cool tile and closes his eyes, alone with the sound of rain and the low gurgle of all the water in the bath draining away, slowly, bit by bit.
Ren is supposed to be sleeping.
He has school in the morning, but that's the least of his problems. He has infiltration prep right after class ends, and then he has the actual palace infiltration, and then he needs to get home in one piece to do his history homework and his laundry and make lockpicks and—
His phone lights up again. He picks it up and unlocks it as fast as humanly possible.
[11:55] Akechi: I know. Please, humor me just this once?
The infiltration is going to be the most demanding the team has faced thus far—they've finally gained access to the highest levels of the casino, and the enemies are tougher than ever. More than that, they still have to work on their escape plan for the interrogation room and keep the whole thing a secret while dealing with whatever the palace throws at them, and Ren needs to be awake and alert so that he can keep everyone together or they won't make it out of this alive. Right now he's already in his pajamas, tucked under his warm covers, and all he needs to do is ignore the message, close his eyes, and go to sleep.
[11:55] Ren: okay. where do you want to meet
[11:56] Akechi: The usual place. How soon can you be there?
At this time of night, Ren is going to have to take a taxi. He has no idea how long it takes to get to Kichijoji by car.
[11:56] Ren: soon
[11:56] Ren: give me a few min to get dressed and I'll have an eta
[11:56] Akechi: Don't keep me waiting.
[11:56] Ren: wouldn't dream of it
Ren puts his phone down and slowly eases his weight off the mattress, careful not to disturb Morgana curled up next to his pillow. He tiptoes over to his sofa, grimacing as his bare feet touch the frigid floor, and he changes into the clothes he'd tossed carelessly over the armrest just a few hours ago. He throws on his coat, grabs his phone, his wallet, his keys—and he pauses, glancing back at his bed.
Morgana is going to fucking kill him if he finds out. This is objectively the worst decision Ren's ever made in his life.
He walks back to his desk. By the light of his phone, he digs out a scrap of paper and scrawls a short message on it: Went out for a walk. Should be back before morning.
Will it cause more or less concern if he mentions who he's going with? He knows that Akechi isn't going to preemptively murder him in a dark alley, but the others don't understand him the way Ren does. They would assume the worst in an instant.
He returns the pen to its jar and heads downstairs.
It's a challenge to open and close the cafe's front door without letting the bell jingle, but he manages, slipping out into the bitingly cold night air. He locks the door and makes a beeline for Yongen-jaya's main street, running a hand through his hair and trying in vain to get it to look a little neater. He really should've at least glanced in the mirror before he left, but he has no time to lose. His shirt had better not be on backwards.
He must be out of his mind, sneaking out like this. He must be completely, utterly out of his mind.
On the main street, there are a surprising number of cabs parked at the curb for a weeknight. He picks one at random, opens the door, and hops in the back.
The driver looks up at him in the rearview mirror. If he's suspicious of a high schooler going out so late, he doesn't show it. "Where to?"
"Kichijoji station, please." Ren clears his throat and does his best to breathe through the stench of cigarettes, cologne, and new leather. "How long will it take to get there?"
"This time of night? Maybe twenty-five minutes." The driver glances at him again as they pull out onto the road, and Ren forces himself to stop fiddling with his hair. "If you're in a hurry, I can get you there in twenty."
"Could you? I appreciate it." Ren sits back and takes out his phone.
[12:05] Ren: I'll be there in 20 min
The timestamp stares him in the face. What the hell is he doing?
[12:06] Akechi: I suppose it can't be helped.
[12:06] Ren: you could've picked somewhere closer to me
[12:06] Akechi: But then I would've had to take a taxi. Jazz Jin just happens to be conveniently within walking distance of my apartment.
[12:07] Ren: a taxi, you say
[12:07] Ren: sent IMG_2921.jpg
[12:07] Ren: :/
[12:07] Akechi: Haha, my bad. Don't worry, I'll make it worth your while.
[12:07] Ren: is that a promise?
Read 12:07
Ren buries his face in his hands. God, he is so pathetic.
His phone is quiet for the next fifteen minutes. The driver drops him off at the station, and Ren pays in cash.
Even with the few extra minutes he has, he makes his way through the promenade with urgency. It feels strange to see the shopping district devoid of its usual crowds, all the storefronts brightly lit but completely empty, looming silent and strange over him. Even the late-night bars and eateries in Harmony Alley are closing up, and only the last few drunk stragglers remain. Ren pulls his coat tighter around him and shivers—whether it's the adrenaline of exhaustion or the cold air in his lungs, he can't tell.
His phone buzzes. It's Akechi, of course.
[12:23] Akechi: Changed my mind. I'll be waiting outside.
Changed his mind? Changed it to what? Ren's heart starts beating faster against his will.
He gets to the jazz club way too quickly, but there's no backing out now. Akechi is right there, standing just around the corner in a long, dark coat, staring into the distance with a storm brewing in his eyes.
He's ten times more magnetic after midnight. Ren's stomach does a hopeless little flip that tumbles into a somersault when Akechi finally looks his way.
Akechi's cloudy disposition clears in an instant, leaving clear skies. "Ah, Ren. You're early," he says, a pleased smile lighting his face.
"I told you I wouldn't keep you waiting." Ren shrugs and tries for nonchalance, but he can't help it—he grins back, feeling Akechi's presence warm him from the inside like a hot cup of coffee.
Never mind that it's been three days since Futaba intercepted that death sentence of a phone call, and his body still hasn't gotten the message. Now he's flirting with danger in the most literal sense, but if there's a better coping method than hanging out with his future murderer in the dead of night, Ren doesn't know it, nor does he care—it's not like he's been sleeping lately, anyway.
Akechi starts down the street at a leisurely pace. "You weren't encouraging any breaking of the law to get here faster, were you?" he says, looking playfully askance at Ren.
"So what if I did? You've got no evidence," Ren deadpans.
"You truly are the criminal mastermind of our generation, Ren." Akechi rolls his eyes.
This guy is going to put a bullet through Ren's head and yet— "Admit it. You're just happy to see me."
Akechi opens his mouth and then closes it again. "Yes," he admits, looking away. "I am."
Ren glows in the most stupid, smitten way possible. "You're welcome, then," he says smugly—or, he tries to, but he's much too earnest, he can feel it.
The look Akechi gives him is so delightfully weird that he has to bite his tongue. Surprise, incredulity, and—best of all, one of Ren's favorites—a hint of embarrassment. He commits it to memory, squirrels away this little bit of warmth for the weeks ahead. For when he lies awake and waits for the night to end, staring up at the ceiling like he's already dead.
Akechi is already turning away from him, hiding his face. Even though he's facing a store window, the light spilling from inside is so blindingly bright that Ren can't see his reflection. A friendly chime plays, and the glass door just ahead of them slides open with a squeak.
"Want to go in?" Akechi says. "I don't think we'll find another store that's open at this time of night."
A Triple Seven, huh. "Let's do it."
The door slides shut, gently encasing them in warmer air. A decades-old tune warbles from the speakers and echoes hollowly between the shelves—something about a hundred men, or blessed rains in a faraway land. The cashier in the familiar hot pink uniform greets them promptly without looking up, and then goes back to fiddling with the register.
Ren can't resist. "Did you know I used to work at one of these?"
"Oh, really? Out of all your part-time jobs, this one is surprisingly believable." As they park themselves in front of a magazine rack, Akechi's gaze slides over to the cashier and furtively snaps back to Ren like he's comparing the two—and then beautifully, predictably, the disbelief begins to settle over his face.
"I looked really cute in the uniform, too," Ren says, because he left all his brain cells at home.
Akechi snorts. "In that? I've seen you pull off some... inconceivable things, but even you couldn't make that look anything but ridiculous." He glances back at the cashier again.
"Could you?" Ren smirks.
"Of course I could," Akechi says without hesitation. He picks up some kind of fashion magazine and leafs through it absentmindedly. "I'd be a better employee, too, but it's not a fair comparison. I already have a few years of experience working for people who are... well, let's just say that they tend to be demanding and unforgiving."
Now Ren can't stop imagining Akechi in the pink uniform, and the worst part is that he might actually be right about looking better. "But do you know where the barcode is on the milk cartons?"
Akechi doesn't dignify that with a response—just drops the magazine back onto the rack, dusts off his hands, and walks further down the aisle.
"God, you're so hot when you ignore me," Ren mutters, trailing after him.
Ahead of him, Akechi sputters like an overheated engine and starts coughing, bent over at the waist. Ren puts a hand on his upper back and pats him halfheartedly. Akechi's fine—the cough sounds as fake as everything else—and Ren just wants an excuse to touch him, to stand close to him and rub slow circles into his back as he clears nonexistent debris from his throat and stands up straight again.
"Thanks." Akechi coughs one more time for good measure before his eyes slide back to Ren's. His skin is flushed a light pink but the fluorescent light makes him look washed out and pale, no makeup to hide the dark circles under his eyes and his summer freckles all but faded. "My apologies."
Ren has never heard anyone sound less apologetic in his life. If there weren't security cameras everywhere he'd seriously consider kissing him then and there.
He slowly lets his hand drop back to his side. Akechi holds his gaze knowingly, giving nothing away.
Even after all this time, Ren still can't quite tell what he's thinking. His eyes flit down to Ren's mouth and back up teasingly, gazing at him through the ends of his bangs that have gotten just a little too long. Ren wants to scream.
Somewhere inside that pretty little head of his, Akechi reconciles I want you with I want you dead, all neat and tidy, and he must have to do it all over again with every one of their dances, every evening they spend together, every single time he so much as thinks about Ren. It's killing Ren, literally and figuratively, that he might never know why. He'd wanted so badly to trust Akechi.
But as it is, they're both just pretending. Ren walks down the aisle to the back of the store and grabs a can from the refrigerated shelves.
"You're really going to drink that now?" Akechi raises an eyebrow.
Ren shrugs and studies the label—OYABUN Coffee, flash brewed, only ten calories a can. "Well, we're here, aren't we?"
"Touché." Akechi pauses, and the hum of the refrigerator fills in the gap of silence. He tilts his head a little. "If I pay for it, would you be willing to share?"
If you wanna kiss me so badly, you should just say so. "Nah. Get your own."
"Fine," Akechi sighs. He hems and haws before he slides the glass door open and plucks the last can of royal milk tea from the shelf, holding it gingerly with his fingertips.
"Should've worn gloves," Ren says, jostling him with his elbow, coincidentally sidling in closer until their shoulders touch.
"I didn't want to." Akechi transfers his tea to his right hand and makes a show of scrutinizing the label instead of Ren. His left hand, now free, hangs by his side and brushes against the back of Ren's hand.
Ren inhales slowly, a lungful of yearning. He exhales, but desire still beats frantically inside his chest like a trapped bird, demanding to be set free.
It's late. They're both here for a reason.
Taking Akechi's hand feels right, like the spaces between his fingers were meant for Ren's. Like all the events of the past several months have converged to this moment, time swirling like water down a drain.
Akechi's fingers are cold and his palm is a little sweaty, but Ren's is too. He stares at their reflection in the glass and squeezes Akechi's hand, trying to convince himself that the image of them standing side by side isn't a mere illusion.
It's nice. It's really nice. Why have they been waiting so long just to hold hands? It's a ritual that's existed since the dawn of humanity, but at the same time it's the most thrilling new invention in the world.
"We look good together," Ren says quietly, and they do. They look like nothing could ever stand in their way.
He chances a look over and Akechi meets his gaze coolly, chin tilted up as if in challenge. But beneath the veneer there's something else stirring, dark and deep, and fuck if it doesn't make Ren's pulse quicken.
Akechi doesn't say anything, just lets go of Ren's hand and makes a show of walking unhurriedly to the counter. If the cashier recognizes him, he makes no indication at all as he scans the milk tea and punches a few buttons on the register impassively.
Akechi holds out his free hand as Ren comes up beside him. "Here, I'll pay for yours, too."
Ren can't resist a smirk as he puts his coffee on the counter. He knew it—despite everything, Akechi does want to kiss him so badly.
Akechi swipes his fancy silver credit card, and then they leave without another word. The door plays its chime as it slides open, plunging them back into the frigid night air.
Ren cracks open his coffee right away and takes a swig. It barely even registers in his frazzled, exhausted brain, but by canned coffee standards, it's not too bad.
Akechi holds his hand out again, but lower. Ren looks at him, puzzled, and tries to give him the coffee.
He rolls his eyes. "Not that. Give me your hand." You idiot. He doesn't say it out loud, but Ren can see it in the amusement on his face, in the smirk that he's trying and failing to hold back.
Ren's heart squeezes painfully in his chest. There's no way that someone who looks at him like that and keeps this smile just for him could really, actually want to kill him. There's just no fucking way.
He slips his hand into Akechi's and laces their fingers together. Akechi's eyes flit from Ren's face to the empty street behind them and back to the store before he pulls him to his side. They're standing recklessly close, intoxicated by each other's warmth, like a shot of whiskey staving off the cold.
"Come on, then," Akechi says.
Ren lets him lead them down the street, away from the lights of the deserted shopping district. He doesn't count the turns they take down narrow side roads or look at their names, just follows half a step behind.
They walk up to a row of identical apartment buildings. Akechi fishes around in his coat pockets, and the sound of keys jangling pulls Ren abruptly back into reality.
"Wait," he says. "This is—this is your apartment?"
Akechi pauses in front of the staircase, causing Ren to stumble to a stop as well. "It's getting rather late. It might be better for you to stay the night with me and take the train home in the morning."
Ren doesn't know why he bothers to phrase it so innocently. What's waiting for him in Akechi's apartment is undoubtedly the best night of his life, because against all odds, they've managed to keep this up. If he follows him up the staircase and through the front door, the game will reach its conclusion. They'll kiss and then take off their clothes, and Ren will get to touch Akechi the way he's always wanted to. He wants to take him apart and watch him come undone in his hands and in his mouth, and he wants to do it again, and again, and again. He wants to hear him say things he probably doesn't mean, he wants to hold him under the cover of darkness and tell him things that are too close to the truth.
He wants it all, even the murderous hatred. Especially the murderous hatred.
Akechi peers at him in confusion, his foot already on the first step of the stairs. "...Hello? Ren?"
Actually, it's starting to look more like concern. Ren can feel himself shaking slightly with exhaustion and the effort of keeping his stupid, reckless heart from pulling itself in two.
"Are you listening? I asked if you wanted to come upstairs."
Ren lets go of Akechi's hand. "It's getting kinda late. I... I can't stay tonight."
For a moment, Akechi's expression doesn't change. "What?"
Ren considers making excuses: they'll be busy with infiltration tomorrow, they'll need to be at full strength to fight, his team needs him and he can't let them down. He wants to keep his distance before they go their separate ways. He can't keep the others from getting suspicious. He can't be sure that the moment they close the door, Akechi won't slide a knife tenderly between his ribs, pull it out slow, and slide it back in.
Instead he shakes his head and says, "It's fine. I'll call a taxi."
Akechi opens his mouth and closes it again. Behind his face Ren can almost see the cogs grinding, working double-time to recalculate his trajectory. "Oh. Alright. In that case, do you... want to wait in the living room?"
He's biting his lip and everything. He's really, really trying.
"I can't," Ren repeats. But I want to.
"Oh." Finally, Akechi's voice is heavy with the sting of rejection, and Ren feels just a little bit worse.
Gently, he takes Akechi's face in his hands, stands on his tiptoes, and leans in to kiss his forehead through his bangs. His face is cool to the touch, and his hair is unbelievably soft between Ren's fingers.
As soon as he pulls back, he feels Akechi's eyes boring into his skull. He can't meet his gaze or he'll turn to dust.
"Goodnight," he whispers, and he turns and walks away.
It's raining. Ren lays in the dark, waiting for the night to end, staring up at the shadows on the ceiling like he's already dead.
In a way, he is. He died in that tiny underground room, and he felt himself die when the gunshots rang out on the other side of the bulkhead. His pulse still thinks he's alive, doggedly pushing blood through his veins like nothing happened. A martyr's gift, received unwillingly.
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the glove. Slowly, he slides his right hand into soft black leather molded to the shape of someone else's hand and laces his fingers together with his left, trying to remember what it felt like.
Someday, somehow, he'll feel it again. He has to.
"Oh, good, you're here."
Ren almost drops his armful of wet laundry on the ground. He whirls around, clutching the bundle to his chest, just in time to watch Akechi strut in through the laundromat's crooked door frame.
He looks better than he did when Ren last saw him just a day ago, if that's even possible. The openly haughty way he holds himself these days cuts through Ren like the January air, like he's saying look what you could've had. Look at what you're missing out on.
As if it's Ren's fault that the last time they touched was in a literal fight to the death. God.
"What's up?" He turns and shoves his armful of laundry into an open dryer, avoiding eye contact. Akechi's arrival splintered the peaceful sanctity of the laundromat into a thousand pieces, and the previous day's tension swoops back into the room with a vengeance.
Akechi draws closer in his peripheral vision, his footsteps barely making a sound. "This bizarre reality is what's 'up', thank you. I needed to consult with you, but you weren't answering your phone."
Ren forces himself to take a deep breath. If he stares hard enough into the metallic drum of the dryer, he can almost block out the unnatural shimmer in the fading afternoon light filtering through the windows, but Akechi's presence pulls relentlessly at his awareness like a neutron star.
"And?" he says in the most deadpan voice he can muster.
"And?" Akechi echoes mockingly behind him. "You've been avoiding me."
It's true, Ren can't deny that one. He turned off his phone as soon as they left the palace yesterday, and it hasn't moved from the bottom of his bag since. He's human; he has a limit to how much he can withstand the only other sane person in the world driving him absolutely crazy without even being in his line of sight. He wouldn't have such a problem if this new Akechi didn't turn out to be exactly the one Ren wanted all along: arrogant and bossy, bitingly sarcastic, no longer interested in pulling any punches. Worst of all, prone to being disastrously flirtatious during really dangerous battles, but best of all, alive.
Like hell he's ever gonna give Akechi the satisfaction of hearing that, though—he already gets so visibly pleased with himself whenever Ren stares, which is admittedly a lot. He turns around, but only so he can get the rest of his laundry into the dryer.
Akechi, being the asshole that he is, is blocking Ren from the washing machine with his clothes in it, leaning back against it with his arms crossed and killing stare focused singly on Ren.
Heat scorches through Ren's body in a flash like a chemical reaction. He swallows. "Could you move?"
In one fluid motion Akechi stands up straight and stalks towards him. In the narrow aisle, it only takes him one step to come nose to nose with Ren, and another to press him back against cold, unyielding metal.
"I meant—I meant out of the way," Ren mutters. Not that he's fooling anyone.
"Should've said so," Akechi purrs, narrowing his eyes.
Ren's breath catches and his heartbeat trips over itself. Dimly, he's aware that he's playing right into Akechi's hands, but those hands are grabbing his collar, tilting his chin up, brushing a thumb over his bottom lip. The tip of Akechi's tongue darts enticingly and he inhales like he's ready to tear a chunk out of Ren.
He presses closer, and Ren's eyes slip shut involuntarily.
"Oh, look at the time. It's getting rather late. I should be going."
Ren's eyes fly open. Akechi is backing away with the most evil, self-satisfied look on his face, and he's turning towards the doorway to leave again, the stupid, awful, idiotic—
Without thinking, Ren grabs Akechi by the wrist and yanks him back. Akechi stumbles off-balance surprisingly easily, catching himself neatly with his other hand braced on the row of washers. Ren crowds him against the machines to keep him pinned there with his legs. He's gonna ruin this smug asshole once and for all.
He leans in—hesitates, for barely an instant—and, much more gently than he'd meant to, he kisses Akechi. His brain shorts out for a second and then all of a sudden he registers the feeling of Akechi's mouth, warm and soft against his own, chapped from the winter air, but the angle isn't quite right. Ren pulls back a little so he can try again, but Akechi is already chasing after him, closing the gap between them again in the space of a breath, pressing his mouth greedily to Ren's like he needs it to live.
Oh—so this is what it feels like.
Belatedly, Ren lets go of Akechi's wrist to run both hands through his hair. The soft, fine strands feel even better tangled between his fingers than he'd imagined, the physicality of it sending a rush through him. Akechi lets out a deep, indulgent sigh at his touch, and Ren parts his lips, too, slotting their mouths together, and it just feels so right that it erases every other thought from his mind.
He pulls back to catch his breath, and this time Akechi lets him. For a second, they just stare at each other.
"I—I hate you." Ren kind of means it, too, but he can't even get through three words without grinning ear to ear, giddy and high with adrenaline.
"Well, would you look at that. The feeling is mutual. You've kept me waiting long enough." Akechi is still wearing that infuriating smug expression, but with his hair all mussed and his faced flushed red, he just looks stupid hot. With both hands, he reaches up and plucks Ren's glasses off his face, folding them and setting them down on the washing machines behind him.
"Hey," Ren complains.
"They were in the way." Akechi wraps a hand in Ren's hair and pulls him back in for another kiss, slower and deeper, eyes half-lidded in the waning light, and Ren shuts up.
A shadow passes over the corridor outside, and a set of footsteps echoes and recedes into the distance. Ren suddenly remembers that they're in public, but also more importantly, that this is the block Morgana has been spending all his time wandering lately.
Akechi smirks at him when he pulls away to glance out the windows. "Are you worried?"
"About what?" Ren banishes his weird human cat from his mind. He has other priorities right now.
In slow motion, Akechi leans forward and presses his lips to Ren's jaw, trailing one kiss after another up to his ear. "Getting caught," he says softly. He almost sounds like he wants to get caught.
Ren bites back a groan. "You're really not making this any easier," he points out, and Akechi's breath fans across his ear in a huff of laughter.
"When have I ever made things easier?" He slips his hands under Ren's shirt and traces ghostly lines over his stomach and up his sides. Sparks bloom across Ren's skin in the wake of Akechi's touch, and his whole body shivers in delight.
Ren inhales. "I've always liked that about you."
Akechi's hands still and he gives Ren a strange look. "I'll be honest. I don't think I'll ever understand you."
What is Ren supposed to say to that? He holds Akechi's face in his hands and kisses him, hoping that it expresses every feeling that he can't put into words. Akechi kisses back, fierce and demanding like only he can be, his hands wandering to the small of Ren's back and tracing the dip of his spine with his fingertips, and Ren melts into him all over again.
They break apart to breathe. Ren just stares, still enamored, as Akechi runs his tongue over his lips and pulls down the collar of Ren's turtleneck, exposing his skin to the winter air. Akechi puts his mouth on the soft skin at the base of Ren's neck and bites down, sucking it between his teeth into the wet heat of his mouth, and the most embarrassing noise slips out of Ren, painfully loud in the too-quiet laundromat.
"Did you like that, too?" Akechi murmurs devilishly, as hot as his breath on Ren's neck. He plasters his tongue on the bitten skin and licks over it, slow and teasing.
"Yes," Ren breathes, twisting his grip tightly into Akechi's hair unthinkingly. Akechi sinks his teeth in somewhere new, into fresh, untouched skin, and he does it again, and again, marking Ren above his collar where everyone can see as if he's claiming him, and fuck, it's like a shot straight into Ren's veins. It's so like Akechi to just—
"Ren," Akechi gasps into the crook of his neck.
Ren blinks and quickly releases his death grip in Akechi's hair. "Shit, sorry—"
"No, keep doing it." Akechi's eyelashes flutter rapidly against his cheek, his breath heavy.
In a haze, Ren slides his hands along Akechi's scalp and curls them into fists, pulling tightly at his roots and tipping his head back. A soft, broken sound escapes from Akechi's lips, his eyes slipping shut, and Ren can't help himself—he kisses him hard on his open mouth, pink and glistening with saliva, fervent and full of worship. Akechi grabs Ren's ass and pulls their hips flush together, tugging at Ren until he shoves him playfully against the machines. For an instant Akechi's body goes slack against him and Ren's head spins, drunk with arousal and an immense, heady sensation for which he can't remember the name.
Whatever it is, Akechi must feel it too—their push and pull giving way to the power to make each other fall apart, thread by lonely thread. It's kind of funny, honestly, that it's here in this false world that they've finally come to the truth of what's been between them all along. Ren wanted him more than anything, and now he finally has him.
Inexplicably, Akechi laughs, a short huff of air against Ren's mouth. Ren pulls back but Akechi just stares at him, like he can tell what Ren's thinking by the look on his face.
"What?" he says.
Akechi runs his hands over Ren's body, up over his chest to loop his arms around his neck. "Nothing." He leans in and kisses Ren so sweetly that he almost believes it.
But Akechi is the biggest liar that Ren knows. By the time he opens his eyes again, Akechi has already done the same, gazing at him with a strange sort of absentminded focus. His expression is hard to make out, and Ren suddenly realizes how dark it's gotten.
He doesn't mind, though. There's no need to turn on the light when he can kiss Akechi like this, slow and soft like a dream.
They pull apart slowly. "What were you thinking about?" Ren asks quietly.
Akechi reaches up to brush Ren's bangs aside with one hand, and he leans into the touch. "I was thinking that this must be one of the most atrocious decisions I've ever made."
Ren cracks a smile. "Yeah?"
He can't see very clearly, but he's sure Akechi is rolling his eyes. "Don't flatter yourself. I'm sure I'll find worse."
Ren chuckles, and he opens his mouth to say something sentimental like well I don't think it's so bad, being with you when another press of lips against his cuts him off and the thought falls pleasantly out of his brain.
Oh well. He'll tell him another time.