Archive of Our Own

[8.34 am, Takamaki Ann] Hello, Akechi-kun! How are you today?

[8.38 am, Takamaki Ann] I know this might come as a surprise to you, I’ve never texted you like this before and all that. But I was wondering if you’re interested in a little help with your apartment situation?

Pardon me for asking, but how do you know about that? [9.00 am]

[9.03 am, Takamaki Ann] You mentioned before that you’re struggling with furnishing and decorating. So, I thought I could help :3

[9.04 am, Takamaki Ann] I am reaaaaally good at that kind of stuff! ;)

Is that so? I cannot seem to remember saying such things. [9.06 am]

[9.10 am, Takamaki Ann] That’s alright, you seem to have a lot going on. ( っ ⌒ ‿ ⌒ ) っ

Goro purses his lips at the frightfully confident use of outdated and appalling emojicons. They seem to be in full bloom at the moment. Even Yoshizawa-san has started using them more frequently a while ago. Somewhat curious, considering her initial style of texting was all proper grammar and punctuation.

There’s no doubt in his mind that the group adapted Sakura’s habits. She used to bombard the old Phantom Thieves group chat with a variety of symbols, some significantly easier to decipher than others.

He cannot say he’s particularly surprised about the fact that Takamaki-san is making use of them as well. Yet he still finds himself weirdly disappointed. It’s safe to say that she is not convincing him in any shape, way or form.

Goro sighs, staring at the mish-mash of symbols he assumes are supposed to represent a hug and cannot help but wonder why she bothers. Her message comes out of the blue and Goro is fairly convinced he’s never mentioned his struggles with settling into his new apartment to anyone else but Ren. And even with him, he only let it slide somewhat accidentally in the form of an off-hand comment during lunch. He never meant to make a big deal out of it. He is not Ren, after all.

Ren.

Oh, of course.

Did he tell you about this? [9.18 am]

She starts typing immediately, as if she’s just been waiting patiently for his response.

[9.19 am, Takamaki Ann] You mean Ren? Nope, he’s too busy at the moment!

[9.20 am, Takamaki Ann] He has a lot on his plate with Sojiro being on vacay ^^

A calculated answer. Not bad at all, even somewhat impressive. She’s better than he thought. Goro bites his lip as he types his next answer. He decides to play along for now.

Just out of curiosity, what did you have in mind? [9.24 am]

[9.25 am, Takamaki Ann] Nothing big or overwhelming. Just a chill trip to the city to check some new stores I heard about. Promise!

[9.26 am, Takamaki Ann] They sell all kinds of super cute decoration and stuff!

[9.27 am, Takamaki Ann] I’ll treat you to lunch, too! You like sushi, yes? Salmon, IIRC (^ω^)

He does, in fact and it irks him that she knows that. He cannot quite put his finger on why, though.

With his eyes glued to the phone screen, Goro manoeuvres his way around the small coffee table to plop down onto the little bean bag in the living toom, punching the air out of his lungs. He keeps staring at the screen, specifically on the little row of text that reads online underneath Takamaki-san’s name. It’s as if she’s staring at him relentlessly even now, even through several miles of distance between them.

And yes, he is aware that he’s overreacting, thank you very much.

Not just that, he’s probably also overthinking. He tends to do that a lot. He’s talked to his therapist about it too, but it’s not something that goes away quickly after one or two sessions. Just like all the other things they keep discussing.

He keeps waiting for a catch; a but. Some kind of favour she’s going to ask him for in exchange. But all he gets is a menacing display of online. And he can feel himself burning underneath her non-existent stare.

Fuck it.

When would you want to meet up? [9.39 am]

[9.40 am, Takamaki Ann] Is that a yes?

That depends. [9.41 am]

[9.42 am, Takamaki Ann] How about later today? I know that’s sudden but I’m at the mall right now for a shoot anyway, sooooo…?

Alright. You’re probably going to insist anyway. [9.43 am]

[9.43 am, Takamaki Ann] Yes ＾ ᴗ ^

[9.44 am, Takamaki Ann] Meet me in front of the flower shop at 1 pm!

See you then. [9.44 am]

Goro wouldn’t say he’s the spontaneous type. Or the type to say yes to every single invite he receives. Quite the opposite actually. He wouldn’t call himself sociable in any way. Once again, he isn’t Ren. But despite that he’s starting to believe his outgoing tendencies are somehow contagious.

He tries to get his mind off things and destress by dusting the sad amount of shelfs and other surfaces he can reach and taking care of the dishes. He scrubs away at a lone plate for about 10 minutes until his fingers are pruney, before he decides to sort through his wardrobe, which is arguably the messiest place in his apartment. Not that he has more corners that could even get significantly messy. He doesn’t own much, after all. 

And as he absentmindedly sorts through his button-ups, Goro realizes one very important detail about Ann Takamaki.

She’s a hugger. She hugs everyone and everything; be it as greeting, as goodbye or a gesture of thanks.

Oh god, she is a persistent hugger.

Goro swallows and looks at the clock hanging above his bed. He still has some time. He has some time to pick out a good outfit and finish his makeup and he absolutely does not open his google tab to search for ways to initiate a hug.

He does not.

It’s about as uncomfortable as he expected it to be. When Takamaki spots him walking toward the flower shop, she waves her hand enthusiastically, before rushing forward to greet him with one of her signature bear hugs. His only saving grace is the fact that Takamaki is so focused on squeezing his waste into supermodel shape, she might not even feel his hands patting her back awkwardly as he tries to find purchase on her jacket.

They are not on particularly bad terms. Obviously, she’s no Sakura, Okumura or even Sakamoto (who – now as before – seems to be more offended on Ren’s behalf than the man himself). Yet still, Goro would not classify them as friends or even so much as acquaintances. They happen to know each other through a mutual confidant and Goro also happens to mind her presence less than others’.

He’s never harboured any particularly harsh feelings toward Takamaki as a person. If anything, he’s always been rather impressed by her ability in battle among other things, as well as her pleasant, no-shit attitude. She used to mind her own business back when they were forced to work together, yet still picked up some conversation he would start down in Mementos and give him decent tips on time management and food preparation.

Goro found her to be manageable.

“Hey, are you listening?”

“Hm?”

Takamaki snaps her fingers in front of his nose, forcing him to look at her. “I asked if you’re ready to go?”

Goro nods briefly and clears his throat. “Yes, apologies.”

There’s a flash or pearl-white teeth as Takamaki grins at him, before the two of them set off at a leisurely pace.

“So, just so I have a vague idea,” she starts and twirls a strand of thick hair around her finger. “What are we striving for today?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, with your apartment, of course!” she smiles and winks. “Do you like it modern or old school? Are you a plant kind of guy?” She clicks her tongue. “Oh, who am I kidding everyone likes some nice plants, right? What kind of decoration? Are we thinking pastel? Or a little bit more colour pop? I’d say you could use a splash of colour in your life! Yellow, maybe? Or maybe something bolder –?”

The number of words that she produces in less than a minute is positively astounding. She’s like a waterfall, asking question and answering them immediately thereafter herself, not giving Goro much of a chance to speak or even so much as think about it all for more than a second.

Goro swallows, trying to come up with a somewhat satisfying answer, as Takamaki turns to face him, a lively pink colour on her cheeks and nose. She winks again and chuckles, “So, what’ll it be?”

It’s safe to say that Goro has never put much thought into how his living space appears to the eye. He doesn’t particularly have any strong opinions on style or colour, as long as the place is easy to move in around.

“Practicality is important, I suppose,” Goro states correspondingly and rolls his shoulder in the semblance of a shrug.

Takamaki looks mildly disappointed as she scrunches her nose up at him. “That all?”

Goro merely shrugs again, this time the gesture is unmistakable.

“Then,” she starts anew and turns on her heels mid walk. “What’s your favourite colour?”

“I don’t think I prefer one in particular,” Goro simply says.

“Then what would you say your style is?” she eyes him thoroughly from top to bottom. “I noticed you go for the crusty, comfy grandpa look with your clothes a lot.”

“Like I said,” Goro repeats, ignoring her quips at his attire. “Practicality. My clothes reflect that, they’re comfortable to move in.”

Ann stops hard in her tracks, rams her heels into the ground and throws her head back. “Oh my god,” she groans and rolls her eyes up. “You are so boring!”

Goro blinks as he comes to a halt, watching the girl run her fingers through her hair. She shoots him an exasperated look, as if this predicament is somehow his lone fault and waits for him to somehow defend himself.

Goro crosses his arms in front of his chest, fingers tapping against his jacket. “I don’t see an issue.”

But Ann only shakes her head and rushes forward again, until she is suddenly entirely too close for Goro’s liking, eying his face, her crystal blue eyes harsh and scolding. Like he’s some kind of pre-schooler who gave the wrong answer in class.

“You have such a pretty face and your body type is perfect to try out some more extravagant styles!” she exclaims and pinches his side. Goro bites down a yelp as he jumps to the side, his eyes flashing darkly. She ignores the warning signs. Instead she just goes on,” You should really consider stepping out of your comfort zone!” Another wink. “Trust me, that’s coming from someone in the industry.”

For a moment, Goro isn’t sure whether he should thank Takamaki for what he believes might be a compliment. Perhaps? But all he can muster up is a dismissive grunt and the will to hide the pale pink flush of colour on his face.

He clears his throat to change the subject. “Takamaki, I believe you said we are here to look for furniture, not for a make-over.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Takamaki trills and grabs him by the arm again to drag him along, her manicured fingernails digging through the fabric and into his flesh. “Come on!”

She yanks him away and into a furniture store before he has any means of escaping her clutches. And to be entirely honest, Goro cannot say he’s particularly bothered by Takamaki’s way of handling things.

She’s rather straightforward; determined in a clumsy, zesty kind of manner. Even though she seems to get distracted somewhat easily, she doesn’t lose sight of what she wants. And of course, Goro cannot say for sure if his analysis on her is correct, but from what he can tell from the short time he spent with her, he should prepare for one or two bombshells later down the line. What kind? He’s not sure. But Takamaki is not done exposing him.

The store smells like artificial lavender, Goro notices and perks his lips. There’s a shiver running up his arms, at the change in atmosphere. The air is cooler, a little too cool for his liking and the walls are overhung with pop art paintings and wood carvings for sale. There’s an abundance of light strings and fluffy rugs, pillows in bright tones and plants. Uncountable amounts of plants.

The floor is made of wood, the surface bright and shiny, polished to shit. Probably acacia or pine or whatever else kind of fancy wood they use these days. Splotches of yellow and pink and neon signs reflecting of the ground are near straining to the eye.

Looking around the colourful interior, Goro cannot help but wonder if this is the right place for him. It’s incredibly – vivid and trendy, but not in the pretentious kind of way. More in the against-the-flow kind of way.

He can see Takamaki fitting in. She bounces on her toes next to him and claps her hands in delight. “Alright, where to start?” she asks, excitement in her tone and a radiant smile on her lips. “Do we want to focus on the living room? Or the kitchen?”

Goro bites his lip as he ponders the question for a second. Following simple logic, it’s safe to say he’s going to spend a majority of his time in the living room. Thinking about it now, he will most likely not touch the kitchen much, much less try and actually cook a meal in it. Ren might want to one day, but he can bring his own equipment. He already has a working stove, fridge, sink and dishwasher. That needs to be enough.

He’s more likely to spend his days working in his living room or spending his leisure time on a couch or a comfortable armchair, reading a book.

He can already hear her complain about just how boring that sounds. But let it be known, he has some counterarguments ready about how it’s much better than parading as a teenage assassin with a double life.

On second thought, maybe he shouldn’t mention this. He sighs instead and says, “Maybe we should focus on the living room.”

“Alright,” Takamaki beams and pats his arm. It burns on his skin, even through layers of fabric. “Let’s get you a nice couch then. How about it?”

“Sounds fine, I suppose.”

Takamaki is already dragging him towards the living room section before he can get another word out and it’s in that very moment that he realizes it’s going to be a long and exhausting day.

Well, his therapist did tell him to try and step out of his comfort zone then and again, but he’s convinced this is not exactly what she meant by that. Maybe it’ll get him – somewhere, though.

They stop at a plush loveseat sofa with a dark, exposed wood base and dark-green, velvet upholstery. All in all, a very elegant design, maybe a little too loud for Goro’s liking.

“How about this one?” Takamaki suggests boldly and runs a finger over the smooth surface. “I think it kind of – matches your vibe.”

“My vibe?” Goro repeats sceptically and crosses his arms.

“It’s not too bold, but kind of sophisticated,” she elaborates and nods, as if to agree with herself.

Goro only raises his brow, but doesn’t find it in himself to disagree with her. It’s an acceptable design, something you might find in a comfortable café down the street. “Mhm,” he mutters. “Seems passable.”

Takamaki’s eyes flicker energetically at his words. She seems to think about the situation for a second, before forcefully shaking her head. “Not enough!” she pipes and suddenly grabs his arms with a strength yet unknown to him. Her red fingernails dig into his flesh once more and he bites his lip at the feeling. “Moving on!”

“But –,” Goro protests weakly, but Takamaki is quick to interrupt.

“You have to love it,” she declares and smiles brightly. “Like – 100% love. This is your new home we’re talking about. You should feel super comfortable in it!”

“Alright…”

Goro scrunches his nose in a mix of suspicion and confusion, but Takamaki doesn’t seem to mind it. Instead she tilts her head and beckons him to follow her deeper into the couch-jungle in front of them that the store has on display.

Goro isn’t a big fan of the amount of people surrounding the two of them, nor the way they have to squeeze through the furniture to get to the next display model. He cannot help but feel a million pairs of eyes on him. And of course, it’s not like he isn’t used to that. He’s very familiar with the curious stares of fans and adorers, the feigned shyness and whispers behind cupped hands, positive and negative.

He prays to whatever deity there might be that doesn’t hate him, that no one recognizes him. He is not ready for the questions, whatever they might be about.

Takamaki comes to an abrupt halt and Goro nearly loses his balance as he tries his best not to bump into her from behind.

“This?” she asks happily and gestures toward a large, L-shaped sectional couch covered in plush pillows and blankets in different colours. It’s absolutely massive and even just looking at it once is enough to know it’s undoubtedly out of Goro’s price range.

Unfortunately – or maybe rather fortunately – he doesn’t have an endless flow of cash anymore. No one to finance his life. He is working two jobs and actually has to worry about his bank account these days, which is a surprisingly liberating feeling, ironic as it sounds. Shido used to monitor his spending, financed his apartment, gave him his credit card – everything. As a kid he was naïve enough to take it all without worrying about the consequences. Without realizing that his father was able to watch his every step with where he used to spend his money; could cut his income any time, kick him onto the streets, let him starve.

Anything. And he just took it. Foolish as he was.

“Hey? Earth to Akechi-kun?” Takamaki sings impatiently and waves a hand in front of his eyes to pull him back into the moment with her. “You still with me?”

“No,” is his simple answer.

“No what?” she half-giggles, half-demands and shoots him a fierce look, hands on her hips. “No, you’re not with me? Or no to that couch?”

“The couch,” he says.

“Yeah, I figured,” Takamaki sighs and eyes it again. “It’s too – much, right?”

Goro nods briefly. “And too big,” he adds tonelessly. “Not only can I not afford it but I don’t need that big of a couch.”

Takamaki presses her lips together, taps her foot and lets her eyes roam the interior around them, before nodding sharply and grabbing Goro by the arm once more. “Next!”

They move from couch to couch, big ones, smaller ones, old-fashion ones, really fucking ugly ones. Not one Goro would deem good enough. And while he cannot help growing tired and impatient, Takamaki doesn’t seem to be swayed that easily. She keeps smiling, giggling and pushing him along with a fiery, assertive yet surprisingly soft determination.

After about 20 minutes, they come to a stop in front of an elegant three-seat couch with a dark hardwood frame and a soft beige colouration. Takamaki turns and smiles up at him, “How about this baby right here?”

Goro cocks his head, eyeing the piece of furniture closely. “I like the design,” he says then and runs a finger over the soft fabric. “It’s not too loud, seems practical.”

“Right?” Takamaki beams contently. “And the colour too. Beige suits you.”

Goro raises his brow at her. “Should I be flattered?”

“If you want to, sure!” she snorts. “Also look at this –,” With a quick gesture she pulls at a loop at the bottom of the frame and a hidden compartment comes into view. “It can even turn into a second bed, if you want to have a friend over!”

Not that that will ever happen.

Goro huffs through his nose as he bites the comment back and as if Takamaki can sense him wanting to say it, she grabs him once more and grins. “You like it?”

Goro gently shuffles backwards and her hand falls from his arm to her side. He nods wordlessly as he watches her fingers twitch.

“Perfect!” she laughs. “Then we have the couch off the list!”

And it only took about an hour, Goro doesn’t say. He has the intrusive feeling that this is going to be a long, long day. And he didn’t have nearly enough cups of coffee this morning. Not that his pitiful instant power is doing a good job at working its caffeine magic on him.

Takamaki hums and takes off her jacket to wrap it around her middle, before clapping her hands together. “Now onto the best part.”

“What may that be?” Goro asks carefully.

“Personality!” she says and winks. “And with that, I’m talking decorations and smaller utensils and all that stuff.”

“Decoration,” Goro echoes dumbly.

“Yes!” Takamaki nods. “Actually, we might need a cart for that – oh and also, write down the item number of the couch, will you?” Before Goro can so much as think of a response, Takamaki is already turning on her heels with a bounce to her step. “Stay right here, I’ll be back in a flash!”

Goro does as he’s told, standing alone and somewhat forlorn between couches of various sizes and colours, murmurs and giggles surrounding him like gentle waves on a shore, ebbing and flowing. Rabidly. More and more.

It reminds him of summer. Of endless gossip and snares, of days he’d rather forget.

Voices grow louder when he’s alone. Even when there aren’t any people nearby.

Sometimes he wonders if it’s normal, feeling watched when no one is looking, feeling lost and alone when all eyes are on you. Worrying about that kind of crap in the first place. Your skin burning under touch. Having no favourite colour. No style. No – interest.

Sometimes he hopes it is. Then, at least something in that twisted head of his might be. If he opened it up and had a look, how would that be like? What would be inside that skull of his? He imagines a labyrinth. Some overgrown jungle.

Ah, he’s spiralling again.

Curses. He needs to note that down in his therapy diary.

When Takamaki returns, Goro feels a bizarre wave of relief wash through his veins. He watches her give the shopping cart a hearty push and jump on it, riding the last metres toward him with a cheeky grin on her face that reaches her eyes and lights them up in childish excitement.

She reminds him of Ren then. Of that silly, sentimental flicker in his eyes that lights up the grey of his iris like a thunderstorm. Of the flash of pearl teeth when he grins, sharp and gentle. A persistence to shine even through the mundane drag of life.

These people, there must be something about them all. Something he has yet to understand. It cannot be normal at all.

“Alright, into the fray!” Takamaki declares and points ahead, before jumping off the cart and stepping aside. “Push it for me?” she asks sweetly.

“You got it,” he snaps back and rolls his eyes. “Push it yourself.”

“Is that how to talk to a lady?” she gasps in a fake scandalous tone and clutches her chest overdramatically. “I thought you were a prince! What would your fans say?”

“I don’t have fans,” Goro mutters in a sour tone. “And you know that prince image was all fake. I never intended to make it seem real.” He really isn’t keen on talking about all that right now. Somehow, he assumes they’d leave this topic far behind today.

Takamaki only snickers and bumps his hip gently with her elbow, “I’m messing with you. Come on!” She gestures over to the next section of the store and sets the pace with a confidant strut, but not before turning around and adding with a wink, “Your highness.”

Goro all but fucking pouts at her, which seems to be extremely amusing.

She’s on thin ice. Already cracked, to be precise.

Together, they conquer the next section of the store and Goro has to watch Ann throw at least a million nifty and handy utensils in their cart that she deems absolutely necessary for everyday living, some of which Goro returns quietly when she’s not looking (he does in fact not need three different tea sets or a ridiculous amount of baking forms).

At one point, Takamaki stops with a loud gasp and points at a set of cat-shaped book stoppers. “You need those!” she declares adamantly and Goro already knows she won’t take no for an answer.

“I do in fact not need those,” he says bluntly.

“You love to read, though! And I bet you have a million books.”

“Yes, I read a lot,” he says with a heavy sigh. “But I have a useful shelf already that serves its purpose just fine without – those.”

Looking at the little cats, he cannot help but think that they remind him of Ren. As in they somehow actually look like him. They have his face, staring back at him with cheeky smiles.

He might be going insane.

“I’m getting them,” Takamaki insists and scoops four cats into her arms with a proud smile. “Just in case.”

“Well then, you’re buying them,” Goro mutters as he watches her gently drop the cats into the cart.

“Yeah, yeah, of course.”

They move on after that, gathering utensils for Goro’s workspace, boxes for organizing, smaller shelves and after that, last but certainly not least –  

“Plants!” Takamaki laugh. “And real ones, mind you. We don’t do fake plants here.”

Goro pulls a sour face as he leans forward to inspect a little cactus about the size of his thumb. There’s a single little pink flower blooming at the side of it.

“You need to give them all names, by the way. It’s essential,” Takamaki says and gathers a large number of flowerpots.

Goro turns his head. “Why, if I may ask?”

“If you build a strong emotional connection, you won’t forget to water them every day and keep them alive,” Takamaki explains and grins. “Also, it’s fun.”

“Tch.”

“I’m right, you know.”

Goro sincerely hopes this entire trip is over soon. His feet are starting to hurt and he can feel a headache forming around his temples. Takamaki has enough energy for the both of them and Goro just lets himself be dragged along, trying his best to feed off of it just a little.

When they finally approach the check out, Goro can feel cool relief in his lungs as he breathes in. The air is a little cooler near the entrance and the smell of chemicals and new fabric fades a little into the background. And as they load the content of their cart onto the counter, Takamaki starts hording the plants and says, “You know what? These are on me!”

Goro gives her one hard look, before he simply says, “No.”

“Yes!” she shoots back like some stubborn child demanding a lollipop. “I kinda made you buy them, so let’s just call it uhm – a gift? From me to you?”

Goro cannot begin to express in words – in thought, even – how opposed he is to that idea. Not only does he hate owing anyone anything, he also certainly wouldn’t accept it from someone he actively tried to kill once before.

“No,” he repeats instead. “I won’t let you do this for me.”

“Well, screw you then!” she blurts, cheeks pink. “I’m buying them and I don’t care what you say, go brood in a corner.”

“Takamaki…”

“I can’t hear you!” she sings and shoves herself in front of him to pay first. Goro tries to catch her by the arm but is so perplexed when he actually does that he withdraws his hand immediately after as if he’s been burned. She is kind enough to ignore it.

With a sigh of defeat, Goro bites his lip and gives up and not ten minutes later they step out of the store, loaded with bags of various sizes. And finally, Goro gets to breathe for the first time in two hours.

To say he’s not used to being this socially active would be an understatement. Most days of the week he can call himself lucky to survive both therapy and grocery shopping. Getting recognized becomes rarer by the day; people stopped caring about him like they do with every celebrity that steps out of the spotlight. There might be the occasional, innocent question “Excuse me sir, but are you Goro Akechi?” that he will answer quickly with “Oh no, but I get that a lot!” but apart from that, things have somewhat calmed down.

He changed up his look a little to help with blending into the crowd. He changed up his make-up, let his hair grow out and occasionally swaps his contacts for glasses. Though, he really doesn’t enjoy seeing himself with them in the mirror. He likes his eyes. They remind him of his mother.

Takamaki’s bags rustle as she twists her torso to pull a little yellow sticky note out of her back pocket that she eyes for a second, before nodding and letting it disappear again. “Can you wait here?” he asks then and looks up at him. “I need something from the jewellery shop.”

Goro only nods, albeit a little reluctantly and grunts a disapproving tone as she presses all the bags into his arms and hops out of sight in record speed. He doesn’t waste his thoughts on trying to deduce reasons as to why she needs to visit the jewellery shop so badly. Frankly, it’s none of his business. So, he simply waits, standing around with their shopping bags in hand and trying no to appear like a little child who lost his mother.

Even though that may be partly true.

It takes Takamaki about ten minutes, before she reappears in front of him from the crowd of people with a bright smile and a wave. Goro tries – he really tries his best not to be suspicious about the fact that the bag in her hand is a) not from the jewellery shop and b) too big to merely hold a little ring or necklace. She has no reason to lie to him about her inconsequential daily affairs, so Goro cannot help to feel weirdly – disappointment? Maybe sad? Why would she lie? Or hide anything as utterly unnecessary as this?

He shakes his head and sighs, “I hope you found what you were looking for?”

“Yep!” is her short and precise answer.

He doesn’t ask any more questions, suddenly distracted by a gentle twinge in his stomach. He’s getting a little hungry and he does remember being promised sushi today. Salmon, to be precise.

“So, now that we’re done with the furniture haul, how about we –,” he starts carefully, bags rustling as he moves forward.

Takamaki nods enthusiastically, not even letting him finish his sentence and laughs with yet another wink, “Yes! I know a cute little store that I think is tailored to your every need.”

“A what?”

“A clothing store!” she clarifies and points a finger toward the escalator down the shopping mile. “Just up the stairs.”

Goro blinks, a mixture of confusion and growing detest stirring in the pit of his now very prominently empty stomach. “We did not agree to that,” he says flatly.

“I know, I know but it was kind of implied, no?” she responds breezily and taps her chin.

“It was not.”

“Oh, come on,” she drawls and takes him by the sleeve of his jacket, pulling not so gently. “Trust me when I say you need it bad.”

“Excuse me?” he hisses and withdraws his arms sharply, glaring daggers at Takamaki who meets his stare unfazed and with a cheeky smile.

“Stop being such a people-hater and let yourself have this!” she pushes further, a little softer than before. She grabs him again. “It’s going to be fun! No more hiding away from anyone!”

People-hater.

Goro should have protested. He should have countered that he isn’t a people-hater. That he doesn’t care about people, doesn’t harbour any particularly strong feelings toward anyone (for the most part, he thinks and hates how his brain conjures up storm-grey eyes and a head full of unruly, raven curls). Goro should tell her that he isn’t scared of anyone. That he’s not afraid of their stares, of any spying eyes and words of judgment. That he doesn’t need to hide away from anyone. That he never sees the sharp eyes of his father in the crowd where he shouldn’t be and that he doesn’t wear grey to make himself go about unnoticed.

But – he realizes – maybe that would all be one big lie.

“Akechi-kun?”

“Pardon me,” he says quickly and pretends to dust off his coat, before clearing his throat. “I was thinking about –”

Something. Something else.

“About?” she echoes and stares up at him with crystal eyes.

“About how annoying you can be.”

Not very graceful, he admits. Somewhat mean and entirely unnecessary but not untrue.

To his utter surprise, the girl still holding his sleeve captive between her fingers only snorts. Then she laughs. Bright and hearty, it echoes through the mall, so loud Goro fears everyone may just be able to hear it.

“I was wondering when you would finally crack, Akechi-kun,” she snickers and wipes a tear away from her eye.

“What do you mean?” he asks calmly, trying to mask his confusion.

“Do you think I’m stupid?” she grins and shakes her head. “I’m very aware of the fact that you’re not really fond of me or of being here.”

Goro thinks about protesting just because he feels obliged to do so, but cannot find it in himself. Takamaki doesn’t let him anyway, “I know you’d rather be alone, I know the only person you like having around is Ren. I would say it’s because he can keep up with you intellectually but I’m sitting right next to him in class and I have the growing feeling it’s not just that.” She laughs at herself. “You tried your best today, even though I was being kind of pushy and well – myself. So yeah, colour me impressed that it took you so long.”

Goro blinks at her, somewhat perplexed by the crinkle underneath her bright eyes. The shining, beaming happiness with which she’d uttered those words. The pride and attitude.

He cannot deny that it’s admirably bold.

Takamaki strikes him as the kind of person who’s not afraid to speak her mind, no matter what’s on it. Whether her words are packed in bubble wrap or not is another story. If anything, he can relate to the feeling. Of not wanting his words chained to his tongue.

He likes it, he realizes.

He just threw a bad-tempered insult at her and she took it with tears of laughter in her eyes. She took it as nothing short of flattery. As a compliment. That’s surely something Goro has never seen before. Not even from Ren.

“You’re kind of a prick,” she continues breezily and shrugs her shoulders, as if she’d just complimented him. “But I like that about you, I think. One day I wanna be strong like that.”

Strong.

Strong like him?

“What kind of way of thinking is that?” he cannot help but wonder out loud.

“Mine,” she simply says and starts walking slowly, pulling Goro along with a gentle tug.

What a simple answer. And yet, there is nothing about it that he could argue with. Even the way she slowly ushers him toward the clothing store seems intricately calculated all of a sudden. Maybe he should have payed closer attention to whatever masterplan the girl has had in store for him this whole time.

“Mhm, I cannot argue with that,” he says and lets himself be guided with a sigh. “It seems I underestimated you.”

“Nah,” she says and shrugs her shoulders again. “There’s not too much about me to estimate.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Goro retorts and gently frees himself from Takamaki’s grasp so that they can walk next to each other at a steady pace. “There is much to you that requires investigating.”

“Thanks?” she chuckles.

She truly is a bizarre young woman, he thinks and shakes his head.

“So, we’re going?” she presses and quirks her brow. “Cause I really, really think you’ll like this shop.”

What a redundant question, when she’s already led him all the way to her favourite clothing store with no way to escape.

“I believe we are already there, no?”

Her smile only widens. “Gotcha!”

“So, what did you have in mind, Takamaki?” Goro asks flatly, trying not to scrunch his nose at the chemical smell of new fabric and leather that the staff clearly tried to cover up with some sort of cheap floral scent – rather amateurish.

He noticed he’s gotten rather sensitive to smells lately. Must be the stress – or god knows what.

Takamaki shakes her head and lets her gaze wander through the aisles. “I want you have a look around first, okay?”

“Why?” Goro asks and crosses his arms. “You were critiquing my fashion sense just a minute ago. I was under the impression I needed immediate help from an expert.”

“I was kinda messing with you, there,” Takamaki says and gestures dismissively. “I mean, I am totally up to give you some tips but most importantly, you need to find yourself.” Her eyes flicker up at him. “You need to enjoy what you’re wearing!”

Wordlessly, Goro looks down at himself. At his grey button up underneath his dark coat and the khaki pants. The black sneakers, not new by any means but not as worn out as Ren’s. Then he simply says, “I am.”

It’s not a lie. He wears his clothes to be comfortable; pragmatic even. The last thing he wants is to stick out, to be recognized or asked questions or anything of that sort.

Back when his detective prince spiel was on full display, his focus was on approachability; on a mature and perfected exterior. Everything to hide the fact that he was an 18-year old teenager, who secretly still watched kids’ cartoons every Sunday morning.

Now he’s strayed away from the need to appear polished. He’s not made of plastic anymore, nor does he wish to be. He just – is.  

Takamaki hums into her collar and eyes him carefully from head to toe, lingering on his face for a little too long to be comfortable. Goro turns his head away. “I can tell you’re not – shining,” she declares after a while.

Goro shakes his head. “I don’t need to shine.”

“But everyone deserves to!” Takamaki is quick to counter with a smile and a pink colouration on her cheeks. “You too, Akechi-kun.”

Goro isn’t convinced. To shine means to attract attention, give away cover. That’s all there is to it, is it not? Then again it would be fruitless to argue with a qualified model about this matter.

“Trust me, okay?” Takamaki insist and places a hand on her hip. “Go gather some pieces for yourself, whatever you like and I’ll work my magic later. You’ll love what I have in mind, I just know.”

Goro is tired; too tired to resist her any longer and he might as well just get on with it and stop wasting their time. He nods briefly and Takamaki claps her hand in delight, cheeks cherry red as she laughs, “Perfect! I see you in like – 15 minutes?”

“Do your worst.”

She shakes her head and gives him one last look and a wink, “Hey, that frown has better turned upside down when I come back!”

Goro merely stares at her with a blank expression, before she jumps into the jungle of clothing racks. He watches her blond head disappear out of sight, before turning to scan the shelves and racks himself, be it somewhat reluctantly.

After his time has passed, Goro reunites with Ann with two long-sleeved, button up shirts, one white and one navy blue and two pairs of pants, one slack and beige, the other darker and tight. He keeps his chin up as he approached the young fashion model, who grins sharply.

“Oh, skin tight?” she comments with an eyebrow wiggle as she looks at the booty in his hands. “Daring.”

To be honest, the pair would certainly not be his first choice any other day. But he figured he should be at least a little experimental with Takamaki, at least for today. He can pretend, after all.

“I bet your butt looks great in that one.”

Goro’s entire face heats up in a single second, all the way up to the tips of his ears. “Excuse me?” he pipes, immediately embarrassed by the high pitch of his voice.

“Relax,” Takamaki snickers into her hand. “Has no one ever told you have a good bum?”

“No,” Goro states firmly after he’s cleared his throat. He’s entirely unprepared for an extensive conversation about his backside right now. “And I prefer it to stay that way.”

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” Takamaki says then with a small, apologetic smile. It looks almost as if she’s pitying him. “Just a compliment between friends.”

Friends.

Goro was unaware that they’ve reached that point in their – acquaintanceship already. He doesn’t voice that thought.

“Alright, try it on!” Takamaki encourages then and makes a gesture toward the changing rooms. “I wanna see what I’m working with.”

Goro feels a weird sense of relief flood his senses as he hides himself away in the little private space. Even though it hardly passes as a room and more as a cubicle, but whatever. He appreciates the first taste of privacy of the day, no matter how feeble.

Takamaki waits patiently on the other side of the curtain, typing away on her phone as Goro peels his clothes away from his body to change into the new ones.

He’s gotten a little skinnier over the course of these last few months, he’s forced to notice as he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He’s also paler, or maybe it’s just the unflattering light inside the small cubicle. He secretly hopes it is.  He’s neglected his workout routine and has found himself skipping meals again, overwhelmed with working his two jobs and keeping up with therapy.

Ren has noticed it too, of course. Every time Goro visits Leblanc, his former rival has a cup of coffee and a generous plate of curry ready for him. If Goro had no pride he would say it’s incredibly endearing.

Goro shakes his head, banishing the thoughts of charming, idiotic, brainlessly sentimental Ren Amamiya from his mind and puts on the white shirt and skin-tight pants.

When he pushes the curtain aside, Takamaki whips around with a gleeful expression on her face, “Well, hello there, good looking.”

Goro ignores her words of teasing and crosses his arms, pressing them against his chest to ground himself.

Takamaki gasps in full delight as she takes him in and grins, “You look great! I love the pants on you, you should try skin-right more often. You certainly have the figure for it.”

“They’re very –” Goro starts and wiggles his hip a little. “Restricting.”

Takamaki nods her head, understanding flashing behind her bright eyes. “Yeah, I can see you don’t like wearing them.”

“I should be quite used to it,” Goro sighs and pinches the fabric clinging to the side of his leg. “But it feels different in the real world.”

“I know, right?” Takamaki groans and throws her head back. “Whenever we were in the Metaverse, everything felt so right, like my outfit was a second layer of skin.” She pauses and bites her lip. “It wasn’t always like that, to be fair but I got so used to it, I loved my outfit. I loved moving in it and fighting in it. I didn’t even feel it anymore by the end of it all. But now…” She trails off with a sigh.

Goro eyes her for a second.

That’s right, Takamaki’s thief attire wasn’t much unlike his own. Skin-tight, with no way to get out of it for a quick toilet break without peeling it off the skin entirely. Entirely disgusting to wear during hot weather.

“You never felt it?” he says then and snorts. “Heatwaves were a bitch.”

This time, Takamaki throws her head back laughing. “God, you’re right. That desert tomb was a nightmare. But Mementos was never an issue, Mona had a killer aircon.”

Goro skips over the desert tomb comment entirely. There’s no need to talk about the palace of the young girl who he – in a way – helped traumatize to a point of seemingly no return. Instead he asks, “The fucking cat had air conditioning?”

“Yeah!” Takamaki grins. “I guess you joined us during autumn, so there was no need for it, huh?”

“Lucky you.”

These kids had an entire bus to navigate through the depths of that hellhole with not only the most comfortable seats he’s ever sat on (loathed as he is to admit it) but fucking air conditioning as well? Life really isn’t fair.

“Anyways,” Takamaki starts and claps her hands again. “Go change into something more comfortable.”

Goro doesn’t need to be told twice. He rushes behind the thick curtain once more and changes into the other pair of pants. When he comes out again Takamaki has a satisfied smile on her lips as she nods. “Perfect,” she says. “Now, add this.”

She hands him a long black belt and a wine-red sweater. Without asking any questions he threads the long belt through the loops and throws the sweater over his head, his long hair crackling at the friction.

Takamaki hums approvingly, before she hooks her fingers into the loops in his pants to pull them a little higher, before tightening the belt around his waist. Then she fixed the collar peeking out over the sweater and tucks the front of it into his pants. Goro lets her manhandle him for a moment, waiting patiently and without moving a muscle.

After patting down his hair, the young model seems satisfied and eyes him with a low whistle, “Well, aren’t you handsome.”

Goro only blinks at her.

“Go on,” she grins and shoves him toward to huge mirror next to the cubicle. “Have a look.”

And Goro does. He looks at his form in the mirror in front of him and – oh.

Oh, she really does know what she’s doing.

Goro Akechi has never before looked at his own reflection and – stared. His pants are sitting high on his waist, accentuating his figure, held in place by the belt, the end of which is hanging down the side of his body in an elegant display of nonchalance. The sweater looks refined, with only the collar of the button up peeking out at the top.

He likes it.

He really does.

“Mhm,” he says and turns sheepishly to try and catch a quick glance of his backside, hoping Takamaki doesn’t notice. “It’s quite nice.”

Takamaki’s smile lights up the entire shop. “Feels good too?”

“Yes.”

Goro has never felt good about his outer appearance before. At least not in the real world. When he was a kid, just barely 16, he believed his princely Metaverse attire was the pinnacle of fashion. At least in a pretentious, utterly pathetic kind of way. He truly believed it made him look noble and handsome.

God he was a fucking fool.

Now he turns again and pops his hip a little, thinking he just might be able to get used to this.

He doesn’t even notice Takamaki’s meddling, until the shutter of a camera goes off and he whips around in a fit of hot anger.

The young model only gives him a cheeky grin and spins her phone in one hand. “Oh, Ren will love this!”

Goro takes a step forward and tries to snatch the mobile device out of her hand. “Hey, delete that!” he snaps.

“Nope!” Takamaki sings and turns away from him, shielding her phone with her body as he tries and steal it from her. “Aaaaand, sent.”

“Takamaki!”

“Don’t worry, it’s only Ren.”

“That does not make it any better!”

It makes it a lot worse, actually.

“He’s going to freak the hell out,” she giggles.

Murder is illegal, murder is illegal, murder is illegal.

“Heh, look at that, what a dork.” Takamaki snorts, eyes glued to the screen.

Goro growls into his collar, before peeking over Takamaki’s shoulder to catch a glimpse of her and Ren’s chatlog. There’s the picture of him, smiling at his reflection with a straightened back and a hand on his waist and underneath that, Ren’s immediate answer.

[4.46 pm, RenRen] ( ♥ ω ♥ *)

[4.46 pm, RenRen] What did you do to him, he looks like a supermodel!!!!

[4.46 pm, RenRen] I mean, he always does but you know, wow

Goro blushes.

What a fucking Idiot.

“Smile, Akechi-kun!”

Goro doesn’t even have time to smile before Takamaki snaps the picture, showing off her brilliant teeth and forming a peace sign with her hand. When she looks at the result, she shakes her head and pulls Goro closer to give him another chance and this time he presses his lips into a tight smile.

“Better than nothing,” she says and sinks her phone back into her pocket.

Goro sighs and prods his nigiri with his chopsticks. “Can I actually eat the food now? Or do you want to wait until the lighting is better to take more pictures?”

“Nah, you’re good,” she smiles. “Enjoy!”

Goro has been denied his sushi for too long, so he eagerly takes his first bite before Takamaki can change her mind about the selfie.

“I hope this doesn’t end up on any social media sites,” Goro warns with a sharp undertone and purses his lips.

“Don’t worry,” Takamaki says with her mouth full of rice. “This one is only for me.”

“How reassuring.”

“Maybe I’ll drop it in the old group chat.”

“You’re not funny.”

She laughs anyway.

They enjoy their lunch in peace, occasionally commenting on whatever is happening around them to try and make the moment a little less awkward. It’s rather enjoyable, Goro would even go as far as to call it peaceful.

Once their plates are cleared and their tummies filled, Takamaki stretches in her seat and looks around the restaurant, before pressing her lips together.

“Hey, so,” she starts and twirls a strand of hair around her finger. “Uhm, I got you something.”

“Pardon me?” Goro furrows his brows.

He absolutely hates where this is going and it has not even started yet.

“Well, I thought – maybe to celebrate a new chapter in your life, what with moving and all that,” she starts and slowly bends over to grab the large bag that she’s been carrying with her this whole time. The one she claimed was from the jewellery.

Goro knew there was something off about it. “Takamaki, please,” he hisses and pulls his shoulders up defensively to shield himself from protentional prying eyes or ears. “I do not want another gift from you. The plants were more than enough, I mean it.”

He does. Receiving another gift from her, unprompted and for no reason whatsoever fills him with a kind of dread and anger that even Goro himself doesn’t fully understand. Revulsion. Disgust. Not toward Takamaki in particular, but toward the entire situation. Any possible reason she might have.

Takamaki bits her lip and slowly pulls her surprise out of the bag. “Just look at it.”

Goro balls his hands into fists under the table, but he does. He looks at the little glass frame that Takamaki hands him over their empty plates. It’s about the size of his hand, a subtle, minimalistic design. And inside the frame is an elegant, black and white print of none other than Grey Pigeon and Red Hawk.

He stares.

He stares for a long time.

After a long while, an agonizingly long moment of silence, Goro finds his first instinct is to throw the frame across the room and watch it shatter into a million pieces.

Pure, hot embarrassment crawls up his legs, through his belly, makes him nauseous until it reaches his head. For a moment the world blurs. For a moment he’s a kid; a little kid sitting on the floor of a barren, one-room apartment drawing a shit version of the Featherman group with cheap crayons. The other he’s back in front of Takamaki, wishing nothing more than to disappear, to scream and yell at her until his voice is broken and raw.

He just wants out of this.

Away.

“Akechi-kun?”

“Are – are you serious?” he asks, toneless and without thinking.

Takamaki’s eyes widen in shock. “Yes, I mean – I mean, I thought you liked the show,” she stammers meekly, stumbling over her own words, keeping her head bowed, all of the cheerful energy bleeding from her body. “You don’t like it? Is it not the right characters? I – I can give it back, it really isn’t a big issue. I can get another one!”

His heartbeat is loud in his ears; the only sound besides her voice, drowning in concern and confusion.

Get another one? Why in the fucking world would you do that? he doesn’t say.

Instead he just asks, “Why?”

Takamaki blinks. “Why what?”

“Why would you give me something like this?”

The girl’s eyes sharpen all of a sudden. Like two camera lenses focusing, edged diamonds, bright and brilliant. And for the first time this entire day, Ann Takamaki looks genuinely and unmistakeably angry.

“Why?” she echoes, her voice colder than before. “Why wouldn’t I? You like this show and I know you do. And this day was about making your apartment a home for yourself, right? To make you feel comfortable.”

“But –”

“No, shut up, I am not done talking!” Takamaki snaps, sharp as a knife and Goro does. He shuts the fuck up and listens. He doesn’t even have time to wonder what in god’s name just possessed Takamaki to make her eyes and voice sound like whip lashes. “This day was about you. And you knew that coming with me. It was about me helping you. And you knew that. You could have just declined and continued to brood in a corner. But you didn’t. And I was so happy about it. I was so happy to see you enjoy yourself at least a little. I know you’ve had it rough and I know I don’t understand a thing about this, but for fuck’s sake, you let Ren help you every god damn day of the week. So why won’t you accept it from me in the same way?”

“That’s not –”

“You know, if you really didn’t want to come, you could have just declined. It would have been a lot nicer. Maybe, I have no right to complain – oh, who am I kidding, I fucking do. Is it really so hard to say thank you? Once in your life?”

She stops, her breath coming in pants. Then, as if the spirit of god knows what just simply left her, her eyes lose their sharpness, her tone drops down and her gaze falls onto her empty plate.

“Sorry, that was rude,” she simply says.

Goro takes a fucking breath, processing her words slowly and carefully.

He is painfully aware that this day was – for the better or worse – mostly about him. And he did suspect it could turn out like this. These are Ren Amamiya’s perfect, fucking friends after all. They all share these same sentiments. Some of them even toward him, fuck knows why. And that’s the issue. The big problem. He hates it. Despises it. He knew. He knew before he answered the damned text and he still joined and look where it got him. Looking at another soul to hurt and trample all over just because he is too stupid to understand it. It seems like even now he cannot help being entirely reckless and stupid and manipulative.

And for what?

He should have declines. He hates nothing more than to make everything about him. It reminds him of how hard he used to try. How much he used to want just that. Of how much of a pathetic fucking lapdog he used to be. And he feels like a fucking lunatic because of it.

And Ren? Well Ren is just that. Ren fucking Amamiya. They’re equals and they don’t help each other; in fact, calling whatever the fuck they do to each other helping would be nothing short of laughable. They just are. They work and run like a machine and it’s just natural. It always has been. It’s just like lungs working without a clear signal to tell them to. You just live.

It’s not like that with Ann Takamaki. Or Ryuji Sakamato. Or any of the others. It wasn’t and it can’t be. They’re not as brainless as Ren. They don’t care. They shouldn’t care. He shouldn’t care. He shouldn’t have to work for it. They shouldn’t have to work for it.

She should not have worked for this.

And yet – the day happened. And Goro enjoyed it. And he is holding the framed print in his hands and the thought of ever returning it to her never even crossed his mind.

“It’s nice.”

Takamaki looks up through some loose strands of hair. “What?”

“The print,” Goro says quietly. “I like it.”

Takamaki cocks her head, eyeing him with a hint of suspicion in her eyes. “You do?”

“Yes,” he assures carefully. “I do.”

It’s fucking perfect and they both know it. It’s just Goro who’s still ashamed for no reason. Only him who doesn’t have a favourite colour or a sense of style or any idea of how to make an empty flat a home. She knows. She knew from the start. Had him figured out when he had no idea. And holding her gift in his hands only reminds him of it.

Goro deflates and shakes his head, feeling as defeated as if he’d just faced the reaper alone. Then he tries to smile, weakly and shaky, but it’s the best he can do.

“Everyone deserves to show what they love in a way that makes them comfortable, you know,” says Takamaki softly. “You’re into Featherman but you also give me that distinguished, person-who-has-their-life-together vibe, ya know?”

Goro grimaces and she laughs, a weight falling of her shoulders at the shift in atmosphere.

How absurd. Perhaps Goro overestimated her people-skills. His life couldn’t be more shattered; couldn’t be more of a confusing fucking 1000-piece puzzle.

“What gives you that idea?” he asks her.

“You know what you want, Akechi,” she says firmly and looks him straight in the eyes. “You always have, as far as I know. Sorry for any assumptions, but I think I’m right. You have determination. You act. You’re the most intelligent person I have ever met. Even now, after everything, you just keep – living. You keep living. That’s – that’s hard you know…” She swallows. “So yeah, as I said, one day I wanna be strong like that, too.”

“I honestly don’t understand, Takamaki,” he says, truthfully. “You say that as if you’re not strong. As if you’re not living.”

That seems to leave her at a loss for words. Her eyes focus on his and Goro feels a pang of icy guilt in his chest as they fill with tears.

He bites his lip and starts, “I should –”

“Ann.”

“What?”

“Call me Ann,” she says.

“Ann,” he repeats carefully, as he watches her dry her eyes and cheeks with a napkin. “I’m sorry, for what it’s worth. It’s not your fault, I’m just really not used to this.”

“I know,” she says and smiles at him, eyes wet but glistening like gems nonetheless. “I just needed to hear it from you.”

“They said the new couch will take about a week to be delivered,” Ann says as she places the paper bags from the furniture store on Goro’s living room table to unpack. “Until then your charming sack of potatoes over there will have to do. It’s hideous, by the way.”

“Thank you,” Goro says flatly, as he closes the door behind him. “It was actually the very first piece of furniture that I acquired for this apartment. I got it from the old lady next door when I moved here, so it carries quite a lot of emotional value, you know.”

“Still ugly,” Ann grins. “And I have the feeling you’re lying to me.”

Goro smiles back, “Well, partly. It really is from the old lady next door, she’s pleasant company.”

“Oh, I bet she is to an old grandpa like you.”

“Thin ice, Ann.”

Ann laughs and takes some of the boxes and dishes for the kitchen out of the bag to place them on the counter behind her. “These go up here I guess?” she asks and points upward at a wooden shelf above her head that is mostly empty, save for some small, white porcelain cups and a bag of instant coffee powder. 

Goro hangs the key on a hook in the hallway and shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know where to put all of this stuff yet, to be honest. I need to organize the place first.”

Ann stops mid movement. “Do you, uhm –,” she hums and rubs her arm. “I mean it’s not too late, right? I could stay and help you store some things away, if that’s alright?”

Goro bites his lip, spine stiff as he eyes Ann standing somewhat small and forlorn in his kitchen. They both stare at each other for a while, the clock in his bedroom ticking so loud Goro can hear it echo through the whole apartment. 

God, he’s so bad at this. Terrible at being a good host or even so much as a somewhat decent friend; or – who is he kidding – decent, functioning member of a social circle. So, all he says is, “Well, I don’t have anything to offer you for dinner.”

“Dude, that’s what you’re worried about?” Ann laughs and shakes her head. “I am so full from lunch, I don’t need food.”

“And I only have instant coffee,” Goro adds quickly, eyes darting over to the bag of cheap powder next to the cups on the shelf.

“I don’t mind,” Ann says with a cheeky grin. “Though Ren might kill you.”

“If you tell him, he will.”

“My lips are sealed,” she promises and taps a finger against her lips. “Though he’ll find it sooner or later.”

Goro huffs, “Not if I hide it well.”

Ann winks at him, before the two of them start sorting through not only the pots and pants in Goro’s kitchen, but also some of the other shelves in the hallway and living room, making room for the boxes and utensils they purchased today. Ann makes sure to find a sunny spot for all the plants and also insists on calling one of them Panther which Goro doesn’t object to.

When Ann clears his coffee table to place the little cactus on it, she stops abruptly mid movement and gasps. Then she picks something up from the surface and calls over to Goro, who is washing some of the new plates, “Hey, you’ve been to America?”

“Huh?” Goro looks up from the soap in the sink and watches Ann rattle a tiny little keychain in her hands. It jingles softly at the movement.

“Oh no, that was a gift from a colleague,” Goro clarifies and taps his foot against the ground. “She got us all miniature statues of liberties from her trip to New York. A little tacky, if you ask me.”

“I think it’s cute!” Ann giggles and clutches the little statue in her hand with a wistful look on her face. “I miss being over there sometimes.”

Goro hums, “Ah yes, you’ve lived in the states, if I recall correctly.”

“Yeah,” Ann sighs. “My parents still visit a lot for business, but I don’t really get a chance to come along these days.”

Goro studies her carefully. Her drooping shoulders and hazy eyes, lost in a memory darkened by time and hurt, staring at the cheap souvenir in her hand. Her fingers are shaky as she turns the tiny statue between them, lips parting for a word that never comes.

Goro knows that look well; can read it like no other.

Longing.

“What are they doing, if you don’t mind me asking?” he says after a while, as Ann places the keychain back on the table. She seems a little surprised by the question and for a second Goro thinks she might not want to answer it.

But in a flash, the bright smile is back on her face, as if she’s facing a camera. Not entirely pretend, but certainly not a sign of happiness either. “They are working in a firm overseas,” she explains softly, before turning her head away from his intense gaze, golden strands of hair falling from her red clip between her eyes. “Don’t ask me what they actually do, I have no idea. They never talk about work; only about how stressful it is and how lucky I am that I don’t have to deal with it. I live at home alone. With servants, as my parents used to call it. Mom and Dad, well – they don’t have a lot of time for me, I guess.”

Neglect.

Of course. Goro wondered what kind of twisted family bullshit Ann Takamaki had to deal with over the last few years. Not only was the young girl forced to struggle with her abusive pig of a gym teacher, but a life of loneliness and disregard from both her parents and peers as well. It seems to be a pattern with the Phantom Thieves; all of them escaping their abusive family or dehumanizing situation. Searching for a place to belong. Clinging onto the chance. Keeping it.

Just like he had.

“That’s too bad,” he mumbles, not quite sure what else to say. He can’t read her as easily as he would want. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh no, don’t be,” Ann says with a heavy smile. “You’re the last person who should pity me for my family situation.” It takes her a while before she tears her eyes wide open and stutters in a frenzy, “Oh my – Oh god, sorry that was such a stupid thing to say.”

Goro clicks his tongue. “It’s fine, I’m not made of glass, you know.”

Shido is behind him; a weight on his feet, in scars all over his body, a flicker of malice in the auburn of his eyes, but behind him. In prison. Out of sight; graveling in his own misery. That’s good enough for now.

Ann looks down at her feet, clearly ashamed. “It just – it must be hard for you, Akechi-kun,” she breathes. “Really hard.”

Goro ignores her comment completely, not particularly interested in any form of sentimentality regarding the topic. “As far as I know, you made your life your own,” he says instead, turning the conversation back around. “You have your friends with you, a job that you love and fought for and a supportive partner by your side. If you ask me, your parents don’t deserve your sadness or you racking your brain about them.”

You have everything I don’t have, says a treacherous voice in the back of his mind that he is quick to smother. It isn’t even true and he knows it. But it comes naturally. So much so that it scares him a little.

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m not sad. It’s alright honestly, I didn’t mean to mope around or anything,” she says and gathers herself, straightens her spine and takes a deep breath. “I have Shiho and you have Ren, so we’re both kind of okay, right?”

Oh.

Goro tries – he tries really hard to brush over the fact that Ann just compared Ren to her own girlfriend and that she looks entirely too pleased with herself about it. Like it’s not even a question; like it’s not even worth a comment or a shocked realization. Like it’s fucking common knowledge.

It’s little things like these that Goro worries about; that stick with him. Assumptions that others make about him and his life that they all seem to have figured out without him; about him. It’s pathetic; silly, even. But it’s what he feels. Unsure. Insecure.

It was just a quip; she probably didn’t even mean it. Or maybe Ren told her something? Maybe he lied.

“Akechi-kun?” Ann asks carefully, snapping him out of his spiralling thought. “Are you tired? You look a little tired. We didn’t overdo it today, did we?”

Goro shakes his head, “No, not at all, I was just –”

He shouldn’t ask. He really shouldn’t. He doesn’t even now how to. Or why.

“Hm?”

“How – uhm,” he starts in a pathetic little tone, holding back on kneeing himself in the chin. “How did you know about that?”

“About what?”

“That you love her.”

Oh god.

Oh god.

He should take it back; he should shrug it off and tell her not to answer it. Because what in fuck’s name is he thinking asking a question like that?

Then again – he is merely, genuinely curious. How do you even know? How do you approach a dilemma such as this? Now would be the best time to indulge and satiate the desire to find out what he knows has been burning on his mind ever since – well, that one summer. Goro cannot possible talk to the – purely hypothetical, mind you – person itself about this shit. That would be nothing but a humiliation to the both of them and he’s had enough of that. All this time his feelings were just a mix of hate and rage and jealousy and a lot more that he just didn’t understand and simply turned into more anger. Easy.

He should try, right? If he’s learned anything from his therapist it’s that he should open up and let others into his emotional bubble. And he can trust Ann. He can trust her, right? Well, no matter the answer, there is no taking it back.

Ann smiles warmly, most likely at a treasured memory and says, “When I transferred here, I was an outcast. Everyone looked at me like I was some kind of parasite, they never talked to me; my looks and the way I dresses and acted, it seemed to irritate every single soul around me. Shiho; she was the first one to see me. In art class, she came up to me and sad ‘your painting sucks’.” Ann has shifted her voice to a deeper tone that most certainly does not sound like Shiho Suzui. Goro finds it positively amusing and cannot hold back a dark chuckle. “Pretty mean, huh? She sat next to me then and laughed and I joined in. Ever since then we were inseparable. It was that very moment for me, from the very start.” She lets out a breathy laugh. “Corny, am I right?”

“Not at all,” Goro says. “Love is a curious emotion, I suppose.”

To call it complicated would be quite the understatement.

“Sure is!” Ann beams. “And I mean – whoever the guy in question is.” She gives Goro a wink and a cheeky grin. “I’m sure it’ll be fine, I’d say shoot for the stars.”

Goro jerks his head back. “Pardon me?”

Ann blinks. “Oh, I thought you asked because –”

“No.” Goro cuts her off sharply, feeling his cheeks heat up. More than ever he wishes he could rip his face off. “Also, how do you know?” he adds and crosses his arms.

“About?”

“My preferences.”

“Oh, well I kinda assumed,” Ann says with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have.”

“No need to be sorry,” Goro sighs in defeat. “You assumed correctly, after all.”

Ann’s face lights up like a Christmas tree. “Congratulations!”

“For what, exactly?” Goro asks and grimaces.

“Uhm…” Ann rolls her eyes to the side. “Coming out?”

Goro huffs, “Well, it seems to me that it was no secret by any means.” Honestly, he never quite understood why it should be such a big deal in the first place. “And I don’t particularly care much about such matters.”

“Still!” Ann insists and leans forward. “We should celebrate with coffee, I am thirsty!”

Goro rolls his eyes, but gestures over to the kitchen with another particularly heavy sigh. “Be my guest.”

They settle down at the small kitchen table and as Ann excuses herself to go to the bathroom, Goro pours them both a cup of instant coffee of arguably piss-poor quality and scavenges his fridge for any sort of biscuits or sweets he can find. He finds some small pieces of chocolate wrapped in colourful paper that have slowly collected themselves in the top compartment over the past few months, either from colleagues or die-hard fans. On second thought however, maybe he shouldn’t let Ann eat those.

When she returns, all Goro can offer her is a lopsided smile and the coffee. She seems to appreciate both.

She takes a sip and tries not to make a face, before smiling through the pain of watery coffee. After another sip she says, “I see you also use the IPSA palette. It’s one of my favourites!”

It takes Goro a second to realize Ann is talking about his concealer brand. Normally he has it stored in the small cabinet over his sink, but he probably forgot to put I back this morning when he applied it. “Mhm yes,” he hums, sipping his coffee and trying to enjoy it as best he can. “It has served me well in the past.”

“I bet you wouldn’t even need it,” Ann says with a warm smile. “Your skin is flawless.”

Goro scoffs, “Well, I appreciate the compliment but don’t you think it would have been quite the scandal to make public appearances with bruises and cuts for everyone to gossip about? I really didn’t need those kinds of rumours going around. And well – I assume I just got used to it.”

And it hides the hideous spots on my face, he doesn’t add.

To the surprise of absolutely no one, Goro didn’t have the best time during his solo missions down in Mementos. He is no healer and had no access to a secret stash of wonder-medicine from a back-alley doctor. Sometimes he’d return home looking like someone attacked and mugged him on the street, face multiple shades of black and blue or slashed bloody. Nothing new, but annoying nonetheless.

“Oh,” Ann says sheepishly and looks about ready to sink into the ground. “Sorry, I should have thought about that.”

“Don’t worry,” Goro says with a shrug. “I could say the same about you, if anything. I believe Kitagawa might faint if you told him you use make-up to cover up your natural beauty.”

Ann laugh at that. “Thanks, but for me make-up is more like a fun activity. A hobby, if you will.”

“I see,” Goro says.

They leave it at that and sip more of their coffee, forcing it down with renewed determination. They talk and talk about pretty much everything. From bizarre fan encounters to awkward interviews over Metaverse mishaps to persona experiences.

Ann finishes her cup, just as she groans, “So yeah, I never tried that again, I was not one for heavy physical attacks. Good thing Mona was there.”

“We all have our weaknesses,” Goro says firmly. “And strengths of course. Your magic capabilities were unmatched, as far as I can remember.”

Goro remembered all too well. She took him out with a fire spell once, after all. He felt it all over his skin, the force of it so intense he blacked out for a moment.

“You’re one to talk,” Ann mumbles, cheeks read. “You were the strongest out of all of us. Loki really packed a punch.”

“I doubt that,” Goro retorts. “We all know who was the strongest on the team.”

Ann chuckles, “Well, Ren doesn’t count. He had an unfair advantage.”

Goro bites back a particularly mean comment. Instead he huffs and nods. “I suppose you’re correct.”

“I’m nothing special,” Ann simply states, in a tone that makes it seem like she truly, really believes in. It’s not a melancholy statement, she doesn’t even look sad. She keeps smiling, as if she’s accepted the truth of the matter a long time ago.

“That’s not true at all,” Goro counters firmly, before he can stop himself. “Apart from the fact that your magic is one of the most impressive displays of controlled strength I have ever come across, I believe your resilience and tenacity is extremely impressive. Pardon me for being blunt for a second but I believe you should hear this. Ren told me all about your first experience in a palace. With Kamoshida.”

Ann stares at him for a moment, clear blue flashing like a lightning strike, before her eyes dart to the side, to where the front door is, as if she might try and jump up to escape any second. But she doesn’t. She breathes out, her spine curling as she does and stares at the coffee grounds at the bottom of her cup. “That was –,” she starts meekly. “I don’t know why you would mention that. Back then, I was too weak to even stand up for my friend.”

“Bullshit,” Goro snaps.

“Sorry?”

“This man robbed you of everything,” he goes on, voice levelled. “He ruined your life and the lives of your friends and everyone around you knew it, yet refused to act. And despite all of that, when you were facing him, defeated and cowering in fear, you chose to spare him.”

“I didn’t do it out of mercy,” Ann says and suddenly her voice is deep and dark like the ocean. A warning bell declaring war.

“I know,” Goro states, leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs. “That is neither what I’m claiming nor the point I am trying to make. You wanted him to suffer. To watch him break. Correct?”

Ann doesn’t answer, but nods her head.

“And at that point you had no idea what a change of heart could do to a person,” Goro continues casually. “It was not yet your modus operandi. For all you knew at that point in time, he could have died anyways, just like that. No satisfaction, no retribution – no catharsis.”

“I don’t understand where you’re going with this, Akechi-kun,” Ann says in a tight voice and shakes her head.

“The point is,” Goro says. “This man told you – near begged you to kill him and you didn’t. To commit to it, let him spew all that bullshit about atonement and trying to justify himself in front of the person he harassed and abused, knowing he could have gotten away with it anyway in a meaningless death without Suzui or Mishima ever seeing him confess, never gaining closure, is a strength no one else I know possesses. I honestly admire it.”

Ann doesn’t say anything, so Goro continues, “Ren believes one of your biggest strengths is your compassion, empathy toward people who don’t deserve it.” Like me. He bites it back. “And, yes that most certainly is a valuable trait. But what I admire is the ferocity from which it flourishes. When Ren told me that story, I gained a newfound respect for you.”

In truth, Goro has always appreciated that speck of cruelness; of intense savagery underneath Ann’s skin. Her empathy and kindness are well-spoken of, but the way it manifests in her past actions is a detail Goro finds most fascinating. And perhaps it’s brutal to focus on it; maybe he’s vicious for it. But it’s the truth and Goro figures Ann Takamaki would value nothing more.

Ann swallows around what Goro believes might be a thousand possible answers such as ‘you’re crazy’ or ‘have you lost your mind?’. When she opens her mouth, her eyes are bright and a little mean. “I never really thought of it that way,” she says.

Goro nods. “I know.”

Her eyes narrow and she flashes him a sharp grin, renewed vigour in the way she holds herself. “Thank you, Akechi-kun.”

“Goro,” he corrects.

“Goro,” she repeats and then her eyes melt into pools of soothing ocean blue again and the wicked sharpness falls from her face. She winks at him and Goro cannot stop himself from laughing. She joins in shortly after.

It’s the next day and Leblanc is as quiet as ever. No costumers, no Sojiro Sakura or the combined voices of the Phantom Thieves of Hearts. Only Ren Amamiya handing Goro Akechi a steaming cup of world-class coffee.

Goro wastes no time. The moment Ren asks him about his shopping day with Ann, he says, “You set it up, didn’t you?”

Ren shakes his head, black curls bouncing. “I didn’t,” he says and shrugs his shoulders. “I told her about you struggling with your new place, but I didn’t specifically ask her to do anything.”

“Mhm.”

Ren smiles softly and leans forward to prop himself onto his elbows. “Was it nice?”

“Yes,” Goro hums and takes a sip of the coffee. “It was enjoyable, I suppose.”

Ren rolls his eyes up, before making his voice drop deeper and growling, “Grrrr, I am Goro Akechi, edgy and mysterious. I don’t enjoy myself ever, I only brood like a lone wolf and hate friends even though they are super nice to me and yesterday was full of emotional growth and valuable bonding moments.” He throws his head back dramatically. “But to hell with them all, I am meant to be dark and twisty, agghhh!”

“Ren…”

Ren doesn’t stop his ridiculous antics. Instead he yells, “Whatever shall I do?!”

Goro sighs, “You are utterly hopeless.”

“I aim for the stars.”

Goro shakes his head, takes another sip and asks calmly, “Did you tell her about Featherman?”

“Goro,” Ren smiles condolingly, as if Goro needs his pity. “Everyone knows that.”

“Did you tell her I’m gay?”

“Goro –”

Goro dismisses him with a wave of his hand. “Yes, you don’t need to say it, thank you.”

All he gets is a more than telling wink.