Archive of Our Own

He opens his eyes in a hospital bed. He has no memory of how he got here, and for a terrifying moment he has no memory at all. He can only breathe. 

The bustle of other people around him only makes him panic, shaking as he struggles to remember who he is, where he is, and what’s happened. 

He lashes out at the first person who touches him, and he barely catches when someone says something about sedating him. 

And the next time he opens his eyes, he can hazily remember. 

The next time he opens his eyes, he’s Goro Akechi. And his head is killing him, his arm is throbbing where they shot the sedative into his vein. He can see they missed the vein the first few times, and as a result his arm is bruised, the splotchy color blooming on his skin even under the bandaid they hastily put over it. 

The first nurse that comes in to see him cowers just a little.

“I’m fine now,” he mutters, sitting up. “And I don’t bite. Just tell me when I can leave, please.”

She quietly comes over to check his vitals. He takes deep breaths as she touches him everywhere and moves him this way and that. He doesn’t know if they know who he is, so he has to behave in the meantime. 

Even if he just wants to rip her arm off for touching him. 

“When can I leave?” he repeats.

“Well, if you want you could leave now,” she explains. “You were out for a long time and we weren’t really sure...um, but you seem fine. We could keep you for monitoring, but you aren’t required to stay. Who are you?”

“Goro Akechi,” he offers hesitantly.

“Just for our records,” she assures him, writing it down.

But no recognition flashes in her eyes. She helps him stand, but he quickly shrugs her hand off to show he can walk just fine. 

If she doesn’t know who he is anyway, there’s no need to force himself to be polite anymore. 

She gives him back his clothes to change into, and he gathers the rest of the belongings they found on him. Though that ends up just being his phone.

Because right before this he...

It’s fully charged, but when Goro tries to turn it back on it restarts. So he pockets it and steps outside for now. 

He remembers...what does he remember? He tries to categorize it in his mind neatly, even though nothing feels neat or orderly at the moment. 

He feels like he’s forgetting something too, but the last thing he remembers is Shido’s Palace. Shido’s Palace. 

And then the hospital. He can’t be forgetting anything in between, it wouldn’t make sense. He must’ve gotten hurt and come back to the real world and then here. He doesn’t know who found him, he doesn’t even know how long he’s been out. Did the Phantom Thieves bring him here? They can’t have, surely one of them would have been waiting around for him or at least told the nurse to keep him there. 

Goro squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath. And he takes out his phone and checks the date. 

The last time he had checked the date it was December, and now it’s...March.

He lost so much time, how did he lose so much time? 

Goro doesn’t want to look at the messages left unread. The missed calls. 

He doesn’t even know where he is right now. 

He finds a train station and stands there, unsure where he’s supposed to go following all those realizations. He just starts walking and he swears...

He swears he sees unruly black hair in a train window as he passes it, but he doesn’t look back to double check. He has far too much to deal with without that mess haunting him too. 

He walks along the side next to the train tracks, and only thinks once, morbidly, about stepping right onto them. It would make things a lot easier for him if he just didn’t have to handle the consequences of everything he’s done. 

The Metaverse is inaccessible. It was one of the first things he checked. 

The app is gone. If it’s been months, Shido is either in an untouchable state of power or his heart has been changed. Either way, Goro’s reasons for existence have disappeared with the MetaNav on his phone. He has absolutely no idea what to do now. 

Goro finds a dark corner to sit down in, and thinks. 

It’s all he can really do. It’s what he’s good at. 

He needs a job. He’s probably currently homeless, because he doubts anyone paid his rent these past months. He’s probably been declared missing. He doesn’t know where any of his stuff is. He has what he has now, and that’s it. So his phone and one set of clothes. One glove in his pocket. 

This is what he’s working with. 

He knows nobody owes him anything. He knows Shido is probably in jail. There’s no way the Phantom Thieves lost to him after beating Goro himself so soundly. Surely they…

And Sae actively conspired against him, she won’t keep quiet if he reaches out to her and he doesn’t know if she’ll even help. She has too many connections to people he doesn’t want to know he’s alive. She must know everything she’s done by now anyway, so trying to get help from her is probably not going to accomplish anything for him other than tipping off some people and maybe getting himself arrested. 

And that’s it. Goro burned all his other bridges. He’s alone, he doesn’t know where he is, and he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do now. The purpose he’s had his whole life is gone. It’s probably been gone for the entirety of the three months he was unconscious for.

He sits in the dark, dirty corner of the station and takes a deep breath. He taps on a voicemail and presses it to his ear.

“Akechi, I’m so sorry for what I did to you. Kid, I—“

Delete.

He scrolls up a little to the next one and taps on that.

“Akechi.” Sae. “Listen, Kurusu told me about what happened. I don’t know if you’ll ever hear this message but if you do...I’m sure as hell not replacing you. I really hope you call me back.”

Delete. 

The next one. 

“Akechi.” Akira, sobbing. “Tell me you’re alive, please. Please be alive, please...god. Oh god, I don’t want to do this without you. We’ll wait for you as long as we can. Please call me. Please.”

Delete.  

The next one.

“We did it.” Akira, tired. “We stole his heart for you. You really aren’t...I thought for sure you’d come barging in at the last second. You’d be mad we started without you, you’d come swooping in insisting you do it yourself. You’d...be there, with us. Not for us, for yourself obviously. That’s who you are! But you didn’t come. You aren’t ever coming back are you? I should stop calling you.”

Delete . 

Goro’s hand shakes slightly. The call back button is right there. Would it be so bad? If Shido is really in jail, if the Metaverse is gone, would it be so horrible to call Akira? Maybe a text, even. Something, because out of everyone, Akira really deserves to know that Goro is alive. 

Goro wants to reach back, he wonders if that would finally make Akira happy after Goro has hurt him for so long. 

But he thinks he’s just being selfish. As usual. 

He taps on the next voicemail instead. Because Akira didn’t stop calling him. And he kept leaving voicemails.

“I’m turning myself in to the police.”

“You idiot,” Goro sighs, like Akira can hear him now.

This one is dated all the way back to late December. Whatever happened, it’s long over with by now. 

“I know you’d think it was a stupid decision. It is, I think. But Sae says they need someone to testify against him...and I can. They need the evidence, and if he doesn’t rot behind bars the rest of his life I don’t know how I can possibly feel like I’ve done right by you. So I’m doing it. If by some miracle you’re alive...come visit me. I’d kill to see your face.”

Delete . 

Goro has to delete them, so he isn’t tempted to listen to this over and over. Doesn’t torture himself with the sound of Akira’s voice. 

The odd thing is...there are more voicemails. Did Akira not serve time? Although there’s a gap between this and the next one, so clearly something happened. 

Goro wonders if he got out. Maybe he didn’t serve too long. He wonders what charges were put on him, he wonders if his files on Akira were used. God, he hopes not.

He hopes Sae burned those to ashes.

He taps on the next one. 

“Please please tell me you’re alive! Everyone said you’d disappear with everything else but it has to be bullshit! There’s no way...there’s no way you’d let yourself disappear like that. I know you wouldn’t. Please. Please. I don’t know what I’ll do if you...talk to me, Goro. I miss your voice already. Wherever you are, call me.”

Delete. 

There’s one more voicemail. He hovers over it a moment, and then his phone rings. He fumbles with it slightly, and stares at Akira’s caller ID on the screen.

He can’t. He’s frozen, and he doesn’t pick up. 

After a couple minutes, another voicemail pops up and he listens to that one instead. 

“You bastard! I know that was you! I had Futaba look at the goddamn security cameras already and I know that was you, I swear Goro don’t you dare run away. Not this time. Don’t even try, I have Futaba tracking your phone already. Don’t think of ditching it either, she’s got eyes on you. I’ll be back soon, I just. Fuck! Fuck, I wish I’d just gotten off the train to check for myself, but I wasn’t sure and I didn’t want to be wrong. I’ll be right back!”

Delete .

Well.

Goro shuts down his phone and stands up. He pockets it and brushes his clothes off. 

He has a head start. And maybe, if he’s very lucky, the Sakura girl will lose him. Either way, Akira isn’t going to catch him without a good chase. 

Goro walks out of the station and barely glances at the first camera he sees before he starts running. He’s hopelessly lost by now, but it doesn’t matter. 

He does his best to stay out of view of the cameras he sees, and eventually tucks himself into a little book shop that doesn’t have any cameras in it. He buys a mystery book and sits down in a far corner to read it while he thinks. 

Goro has spent too much of his life running away to possibly just give up because Akira tells him to. He’s never been that type of person, and he’s never wanted to be either. What a cliche, to stop running and turn around and just give in to the force that is Akira Kurusu. 

Goro would never do that(even if he wants to).

If he did evade Akira, now what? He can’t stay here forever. He should wait a few hours before he tries to find somewhere for the night. He’ll have to sleep on the streets, which is unfortunate, but it wouldn’t be the first time. He’ll hop on the first train in the morning and take it far away. As far as whatever money he has with him will bring him. Somewhere he can start over. 

That sounds good. He can be nobody again. He’ll change his name, he knows how to leave no trail. He’ll get a new phone, he’ll make himself untraceable. He knows how to make people disappear, and he’ll make himself disappear. 

Nobody will ever get to know Goro Akechi again. Not that anybody ever knew him in the first place. Not really, not in any way that mattered.

And then Akira marches into the bookstore and goes right up to him with no real regard for anything else. He yanks the book away, and looks at him with so many things. 

Goro thinks Akira is about to hit him. He even winces back, bracing himself for the punch that he would absolutely deserve. 

But then Akira hugs him. His shoulders shake with the force of his sobs, the wetness soaking through the shoulder of his shirt within moments. Goro is officially out of his depth. 

“Don’t do that,” Akira cries into his neck. “Don’t disappear for months. Don’t make me think you’re...I was so scared—“

“We don’t owe anything to one another,” Goro says tightly.

He knows it isn’t true, but it’s all he can say right now because he wanted to run away. Faced with the very concept of staying, he can only lash out. 

“You’re wrong! You...after everything we went through. You can’t say that. You have no idea—“

“What are you talking about? When I tried to kill you? The first or the second time? All the lies I told you? All—“

“I’m talking about Maruki. About—”

“Who’s Maruki? Wait, isn’t that your school therapist? The one who gives you snacks? I think I remember you talking about him.”

Akira pulls back and looks at him. He laughs a little, watery and unbelieving.

“We keep talking over each other,” Akira murmurs. “Can I talk for a second?”

Goro breathes, a deep breath of air that feels clear and easy. 

“No,” he teases, a little awkwardly. 

Akira laughs again, less sad. He’s holding Goro’s shoulders so tightly it kind of hurts. Goro likes to think he’s stronger than Akira, but just in case he doesn’t want to embarrass himself by trying to struggle against it. He doesn’t think he can break away from him anyway. 

“I’m going to anyway. Just listen. We have a lot to catch up on, but not right now. Right now I need to know if you have anywhere to go back to.”

“I just woke up,” Goro admits. “So I don’t think so.”

“Let’s go back to Leblanc. I’m supposed to go home today but...fuck it.”

Akira grins, lopsided and a little mischievous. Like they’re doing something particularly bad together, like it’s a secret. Goro has been on the receiving end of that look, but it’s been a long time. The last time he got itso genuinely was when Akira disguised him, as his hands moved through his hair to ruffle it. 

He has to admit, he missed it. 

“I really can’t. Listen, I’m not going there.”

“Where else are you gonna go, then?”

Nowhere. 

Akira seems to know that. When he gets up and starts walking away, he doesn’t even look back. He takes Goro’s book too, like if he just takes everything Goro has he’ll have to follow along. Or maybe he’s just that confident that Goro is going to go with him. 

Goro follows him either way, even though he doesn’t really want to. He doesn’t have anywhere else to be, anything to do, anyone else to be with. This still feels inherently wrong in so many ways, like something not meant for him.

They’re entirely silent for the trip there, and Akira walks in front of him the whole time. In being the leader, Akira’s given him the opportunity to peel away and walk the opposite direction. If he wanted to, Goro could just run away from this. It would be easy, he’d prefer it to having to confront all of this. 

But he doesn’t. 

Somehow, Goro ends up in Leblanc.

Somehow, Goro finds himself settled into the attic that used to be Akira’s although it now lays bare. 

Akira makes the sheets for him, he tidies up and points out things like a plant that needs to be fed nutrients and how the TV works and what his desk can be used for. At the moment, his phone is all that’s on it, plugged in to charge even though it’s practically full battery anyway.

Somehow, Goro finds himself behind the counter in a spare apron helping Sojiro out like this is where he’s always belonged. He’s not very good at helping, and in the end the best he can really do is wash the counters and take care of the dishes. Somehow, Sojiro ruffles his hair and says he’s glad Goro is alive anyway. 

Somehow, Goro sees Akira off on the last train that night and falls asleep in the sheets that still smell like him, even though Akira promised they’d been washed. 

And when he wakes up, he puts on an apron and goes to work diligently behind the counter with Sojiro again. He teaches Goro to make coffee, of which he makes one cup which is probably somehow poisonous and then goes to the convenience store nearby to apply for a part time position there as well. 

What Sojiro can throw his way is nice, but it won’t be enough if he wants to get back on his feet. Especially because he feels like he’s not much help at Leblanc anyway. 

It all settles so quickly he almost feels dizzy from it, but he’s also relieved in a way. He isn’t sure what else he would’ve done. 

So he gets himself comfortable with a routine. Somehow, he has a routine again. It feels emptier than it used to, but he goes through the motions of life again. 

He works too much, and Sojiro says he does. But Goro likes working, he wouldn’t know what else to do with his time. Besides, he likes hanging around with Sojiro and learning what he can from him. He wonders if it was how Akira felt, when he was in this position first. 

The work is important to him, he doesn’t want to stay in the grave of Akira’s room any longer than he has to. He doesn’t want to live in the echo of Akira for too long, he isn’t sure if he can handle that.

He still gets overwhelmed just with this much, and he isn’t sure if it’s because of or in spite of the fact that he has much less going on than usual.  

When things get too much for him to press down, he splashes cold water on his face and takes a nap. He tries not to think, and when he does he breaks into a million pieces and has himself fixed by the time the tears stop. 

And he’s scared.

He is so afraid that this is all he will ever be. That this is all that’s left for him. Just a person, just a boy, just him . Desperately coping to make it through each moment as it comes. He’s only surviving now, and all his life he’s had so much self preservation and drive that surviving was good enough. And now...

He doesn’t even know who he’s supposed to be anymore. 

He considers ending it all, several times. He wouldn’t want to make a mess like his mother, he’d do it a lot quieter. Maybe he’d just disappear, let his body sink to the bottom of some body of water. He just wants things to be even more over than they already are, because he is so tired. What harm would it truly do to just vanish? 

But he wouldn’t want to do that to Akira again, to disappear without proof. He’d have to leave something...

But then he takes some deep breaths, a nap, or he drinks some coffee. Akira will text him. Sojiro will have him wash dishes or help with a crossword. And he calms down a little bit, and forgets about it until the next time he falls apart. 

Eventually, Goro saves up enough money to the point where he’s comfortable to move out. He presents it to Sojiro like it’s good news, and then is promptly told that he’s now allowed to. Just like that, Sojiro tells him he’s not allowed to. 

“What do you mean I’m not allowed?” he demands, annoyed.

“You’re not allowed, and I’m calling Akira back on you if you try to leave anyway.” Sojiro crosses his arms.

“Why?”

“I know depression and suicidal tendencies when I see them, kid. You’re not going anywhere like this, not on my watch. Actually, I want you to go to therapy. Some of the other kids have been seeing someone who knows about the Metaverse here. She worked with Wakaba.”

Sojiro sets a card down on the counter between them. 

Goro swallows the poison in his throat at the very mention of Wakaba’s name. 

“I’m not going,” Goro mutters.

“You’re either going until the therapist tells me you’re doing better, or you’re staying here until I think you’ll be okay on your own. Or until Akira makes you move in with him. Up to you.”

“No,” Goro argues. 

He doesn’t have a better argument than that. He just doesn’t want to do this, he doesn’t want someone prying into his mind like that. He hates being known more than anything, and he thinks it would be even worse coming from someone trying to fix him. 

It’s why he struggled with Akira for so long. 

“I don’t want to have to bring Akira into this, because I don’t think you want him to know. But I will if I have to, because I know he can make you do just about anything.”

Struggled being in the past tense. Akira has done too much for him now, they know one another too intimately for Goro to be uncomfortable with being known by him. 

“That isn’t...” Goro crosses his arms and glares back at Sojiro. “Listen, I can’t. I can’t tell anyone everything or...”

“She knows already. The therapist already knows. She saw Akira for a bit before he left,” Sojiro explains. 

“I’ll go to one session,” Goro says. “ One .”

And then Goro doesn’t just go to one session. Because he goes to the first session and the therapist smiles at him, introduces herself as Hana, and gives him some paper and a bag of pens and crayons and markers and colored pencils.

“What the fuck is this.”

“You don’t have to,” she says. “But if you want to draw anything, knock yourself out.”

He ignores it all pointedly as she asks him asinine questions about his life and past. He dodges a lot of the more sensitive details, skims over so much of it to avoid oversharing.

And then she asks about Akira.

He picks up a pen and starts to doodle little circles on the paper to occupy his hands. 

At the end of the session she smiles gently at him and tucks the paper into a little folder. 

Goro goes home, and Sojiro smiles at him and ruffles his hair as he rewards him with coffee and curry. 

So Goro keeps going.

Once summer break is over, Akira just stays. He wasn’t supposed to, but Sojiro talked to his parents seemingly every night for a week and Goro just knew that idiot was begging the whole time. And so he comes back with a grin, saying he’s going to finish out high school at Shujin, because it’ll be easier that way. No other reason, naturally

Goro says he’ll get his own place, he really tries to insist on it. Akira just gives him a weird look and moves into the spare room at the Sakura house, as if that was always the plan.

Most nights he ends up crashing on the spare futon in the attic anyway, but Goro knows it’s because Akira knows he’d never let him share a room with him in name. In practice it isn’t so bad, as long as neither of them call it out for what it is. It’s actually rather comfortable, although Goro would never admit as much. 

Akira goes to therapy too. Goro knows that a lot of the Phantom Thieves do. Actually, Goro’s therapy is right before Futaba’s, and often he sees her sitting in the waiting room on his way out. They nod to one another, and that feels like some type of forgiveness. 

Akira has therapy on Wednesday afternoons, and Goro has them on Saturday mornings. A little far apart, but he still watches Hana look at him at the beginning of each session like she’s seeing more of him the further she gets with Akira’s sessions. He doesn’t really like it, but it’s also relieving that there are some things she can know without him saying them himself. 

Despite himself, Goro draws most sessions. Even when it’s mindless scribbles, it helps calm his mind when Hana digs up the worst of it. She tucks each into the same folder at the end and sometimes compliments him. Sometimes she points out some correlation between what they were talking about and what he drew. He gets annoyed when she does that though, so most of the time he just watches her date each of them neatly and tuck them away.

Goro takes to making Akira coffee when he feels like it’s good enough. It’s very rare that he makes a cup that’s good enough to hand over to him. It feels like the mother of all compliments when Akira hums and raises the mug in his direction and says, “Hey it’s not bad, I like it!”

It settles into his routine alongside the rest. 

And slowly but surely, the other Thieves stop by too. Once Akira is back, it’s like their excuses for staying away disappear. They could certainly ignore him entirely, since it’s really clear they are truly only there for Akira anyway. But they still talk to him. 

Futaba continues acknowledging his existence, and rarely Haru will stop by and ask for some coffee. The others talk to him about their lives fairly casually, but he’d be hesitant to say any of them are more than begrudging acquaintances. 

Ann is different though, she seems hellbent on befriending him, so he gives in and let’s it happen. He lets her drag him around to eat sweets and talk shit about her coworkers, and it feels...normal. It feels like something he’s never had, and he tries to run from it a few times only to get stopped right in his tracks by her. She sinks her claws in and refuses to let go. 

Hana praises him for making a new friend, and he just blushes and tells her it doesn’t matter.

But it does. Because now he really can’t disappear. 

It’s different, it’s easy to disappear on Akira because he’s done it so much. He’s used to hurting Akira, so it’s easier to justify. But the more people he matters to, the harder that thought is to hold onto. 

He tells Hana about killing Akira, three months into their sessions. 

He tries to be as truthful as he can about it, but there are some things he still isn’t sure about. He still doesn’t know where he ever found the courage to take the gun and pull the trigger. 

But that was how strong his purpose was. His drive wracked up casualties, and in the aftermath where he’s left without it he just...he has nothing. 

When their time is up, she dates the paper he was drawing on and tucks it into the folder. 

“Goro, I think the idea that you’re empty, or nothing, or like you don’t have a purpose is inherently wrong. Because no matter what you’ve done, you’re human. You have emotions, you have a beating heart and a life you’ve made your own. Just you being alive is enough to give you worth.” She folds her hands together calmly. “You’re still young. Even if you like to act like an adult, I think you’re rather childish. You have a lot of maturing left to do, so much life left in you.” 

“But so many things I did were unforgivable. Especially when it comes to Akira, I just…”

“I don’t think you can judge your own actions as unforgivable when the victim of the actions has forgiven you,” she insists. 

Goro doesn’t reply. 

“Same time next week? I want to talk about healthy coping mechanisms with you.”

He nods.

Sae comes to see him on a Sunday. She usually has Sundays off. 

She asks him to make her coffee, and says she knows he isn’t coming back to work. She hands over what belongings of his he could find, and he thanks her.

But when she leaves, he gets rid of most of it. His briefcase goes in a trash bag, after he unlocks it and takes the spare clothes out. Any personal files, his planner that’s a year behind anyway. A box of snacks he kept that are long since expired and he has to toss. 

He keeps a handful of things. A medical kit that’s half used and covered in bloody fingerprints that he hopes Sae didn’t look at too carefully. Just in case, he sets that in the drawer next to his bed. He sets a few books that he never got around to actually reading on a shelf for later. A few trinkets Akira gave him are kept. 

He sets a Featherman figure on the shelf Akira used to keep his own miscellaneous things on. He puts the bangle he used to wear every day back on, the weight familiar as it rests on his wrist. The matching glove to the one he’d thrown at Akira is left on his desk for now. 

He doesn’t ask Akira about what Hana said, about Akira forgiving him. He thinks she thinks Akira already told him. Or maybe that it’s a conversation that’s long since had, or some unspoken agreement. 

Was Akira supposed to talk to him about it? Did he lie to her? He thought it was impossible to lie to Hana, he’s tried several times and she always catches him.

He leaves it, in the end. He isn’t sure if he’s ready to hear the answer anyway. 

Goro stockpiles his money, because he doesn’t have anything to spend it on since Sojiro won’t accept his rent money. Or grocery money. Or anything Goro tries to make an excuse to make Sojiro take money for taking care of him. 

Sojiro calls him a brat, a stray he dragged in. He complains very often about Goro being out late, and half assing his job  no matter how much Goro puts into it. He knows he can’t be as good as Akira, but he really tries to help how he can. He can’t even do proper grocery shopping or feed himself on a regular basis, so Sojiro usually takes care of that too. He shouldn’t have to. Sojiro talks about how difficult it is just to make him get up some mornings, let alone go to therapy every week. Goro knows he isn’t an easy person to deal with on a good day, and he’s been having a bad few months. Sojiro should have every right to just kick him out. 

But he refuses to let Goro leave even on his own terms, and does it all for free. 

Akira says that means Sojiro likes him.

Goro eventually tells Hana all of his past. Somehow, it's even harder than telling her about everything with Akira. It takes a while. 

There’s a lot to get through. And she tells him lots of things through the months about it, ranging from psychological analysis to heartfelt advice. Somehow she always knows which path he’ll accept easier. Although she’s the therapist, it is her job. 

He’s relieved that it goes over well, and that he miraculously feels lighter having told her.  

For a few sessions he talks about Akira as if to destress and colors in the coloring book she got him. Sometimes he still prefers to draw, but there’s something repetitive and easy about coloring in already defined lines.

The third week in a row he just starts talking about Akira, she takes off her glasses and folds them.

“Do you think you have feelings for Akira?” she asks him.

Yes.

“No.”

“Don’t lie to me, Goro. You know you can’t.”

“Maybe.”

“ Goro .”

“I’ve had feelings for him for a very long time. It doesn’t matter,” he dismisses. “I could never be with him.”

“Why not?”

Why not? Well, there’s about a million reasons. Goro could write a ten page essay with cited sources on why he can’t be with Akira the way he wants to be. He could make a powerpoint if she still wasn’t convinced then. But of course, there’s one that should be the end all. 

“I tried to kill him. Twice, seriously. Three times if you count the fight we had one on one.” 

“Mhm. But you didn’t! And he doesn’t seem to mind,” she points out.

“I conspired against him.”

“Water under the bridge.”

“Aren’t relationships supposed to be built on trust or whatever? We literally mutually deceived one another for months. Can’t be healthy.”

She shrugs, grinning at him.

“But you seem fairly healthy together now. From what I gather, you’re supporting one another as you both recover. You motivate and push each other to get better. Sounds plenty healthy to me as it is now.”

“I can’t. I don’t deserve him,” he snaps. 

“There it is,” she says. “That’s the core of it, isn’t it?”

“Whatever. It’s true.”

“That’s the core of a lot of your issues now, Goro. You’re obsessed with what you deserve, what you’re worthy of, and your own idea of how you should be treated.” Hana watches him carefully. “There’s that and then there’s your lack of direction, but let’s talk about this for now. You’re so stuck, and you really can’t see how much better you’ve gotten. It’s over now.”

“I know that.”

“Do you? You act very often like it isn’t, like you’re still who you used to be. Like Akira is still who he used to be. Like you’re playing the same roles you did, when things are so very different.”

They are different, aren’t they? Akira is still his debate partner, still his opposite in chess and billiards and darts. But Akira is a bit different. Moved slightly to the right, just enough to not be the same but not enough to be a different person in any sense. 

He’s more relaxed, Goro doesn’t find him running around all of Tokyo nearly as much. He’s comfortable with the people he’s surrounded himself with, more talkative by the day. And little by little, his eyes have become less haunted. 

He seems brighter. 

Is Goro different like that? He must be, to not notice much of the difference between the two of them.

“Goro, you’re a boy who works part time at a coffee shop and a convenience store. You’re living above a coffee shop, working with a stand-in father figure to a cute boy. You have a crush on him. Tell him that.”

“It’s not—“

“Forget about the past,” she commands. “Not for forever, just for a moment. Take deep breaths, and tell Akira the truth. There’s no such thing as ‘deserve’, but don’t you think he should have the opportunity to hear you and respond how he wants to?”

She dates his coloring page and tucks it into the folder. 

She sends him off, and reluctantly Goro goes out to buy some flowers for Akira. He finds a dark corner in the subway, out of the way of the underground mall, and takes out his phone. 

The bouquet sits in his lap as he scrolls down and taps on the voicemail he’s never listened to. It’s from Akira, dated a couple days before Goro woke up. 

He presses his phone to his ear and just listens. 

“Hi. I’m uh, I’m out of jail now. I didn’t tell you that last time, I realized. Ha, not that it matters I guess. But my therapist suggested I do this as a way to cope. Find closure, because I’m...going back home. Well back to living with my parents, Leblanc is my home now. My true feelings...what does that mean, Hana? I don’t know how I feel about Goro Akechi. Well, that’s a lie. I know how I should feel, and I’m just frustrated I don’t feel that way. I hope your voicemail doesn’t have a super short time limit.”

It doesn’t. Goro’s voicemail is set to be the max time, just in case. He never wanted Shido to get cut off somehow. 

Akira is quiet for a while. He breathes, and after a minute Goro realizes he’s crying.

“I forgive you, Goro. I still don’t understand or know everything about you, but I forgive you for being an impressionable child who got manipulated into a weapon. I forgive you for what you did to me, whatever that’s worth. And I miss you. If you’re alive, and you hear this...don’t feel like you need to come out of hiding or whatever you’re doing. I would never want you to feel trapped again, even by me. I just ask that you tell me that you’re alive, because the guilt I feel is eating me alive. I failed you, Goro. Life failed you, society fucked you over, and the rotten adults I’ve spent my entire time here trying to reform were tearing you to pieces without me knowing. And I’m so sorry.”

Goro takes a deep breath when Akira does. In, then out. Steadily, for a handful of moments. 

“I’m surprised I haven’t been cut off yet. I’m glad, I guess. I uh, was kind of falling for you to be honest? At least I think I was. So there’s that. I think maybe some of the things I said to you weren’t so great. I think more than a few times I made stuff worse, so I’m sorry about that. And now I think I’m prolonging hanging up because I know this is the last time I’m going to speak to you. I know it’s not healthy, Hana said this was a shitty way to cope so I’m probably going to delete your contact at some point. You don’t even have a grave for me to visit. I’d put together the best bouquet for you, you have no idea. I...what am I saying? You’re gone. I need to accept that sooner or later, even if it’s painful. I miss you, I hope you knew that there was one person who would miss you when you disappeared. Goodbye, Goro. I really hope to see you on the other side.”

His phone clicks abruptly. Goro looks down at the flowers in his lap. He saves the voicemail and pockets his cell as he stands. He must look a mess now, having sat on the floor in the station for the past however long listening. He might also be crying now. 

Akira...was falling for him. He wonders what he meant by was . He wonders if he still is.  

Messily, when Goro runs into him on his way home, he stumbles through a half confession. Akira’s voice is still ringing in his ears when he does.  

“Hey Hana yelled at me to confess to you too. I told her I didn’t have to, since I did in that voicemail and all,” Akira says with a grin. “That’s hilarious.”

And they do laugh about it, but Goro mostly cries. He tells Akira he only just listened, and it makes him laugh and then also cry. 

He doesn’t deserve this, but Akira doesn’t seem to care about deserving either because he still falls asleep tucked against Goro’s chest that very night.

Hana smiles at him knowingly when he tells her. Of course, Akira’s session was the first in the week after all.

He hesitantly asks about what she meant about his lack of direction. 

“You feel like you aren’t going anywhere, right?”

He nods.

“Are you happy, right now?”

He hesitates. But he nods.

“Then why does it matter if you’re moving towards some unachievable goal of a perfect life all humans try to strive for? You’re happy, you’re healthy, you’re safe. Nothing else matters.”

She’s right. 

In December, Akira gets more sad. He goes to therapy twice a week sometimes, and he holds Goro’s hand doubly as tight. The other Thieves are over often. 

In December, Hana opens the folder and spreads out all his drawings and coloring sheets. 

“This is how you’ve changed,” she tells him. 

What started as pen scribbles slowly became more. He eventually began to let the doodling express what words couldn’t. He remembers what they were all supposed to mean, the feeling it was supposed to emulate. He feels it in his chest when he sees them. Hana got him watercolors when they changed his hour sessions to two hours. Their session that Goro spoke about killing...splatters of paint that just mudded together into an ugly color that he’d wanted to throw away. Still it’s dated, and it stands among the others as it is. Their session Goro spoke about his past, the aimless strokes of crayons, unevenly colored across a page that holds no real shape, no real meaning. Just colors. Their session Goro started talking about Akira, that’s full of bright and warm colors. No wonder Hana caught on. 

And the way he carefully colored in the lines of coloring sheets, had the patience to neatly do it, to think through the colors.

He has never seen his change as easily as this way that she’s shown him. 

Sojiro tells him that Hana said he was doing a lot better. 

He asks to stay a bit longer, and Sojiro smiles and agrees easily.

It’s like a gap year. Goro saves up money, and he keeps going to therapy even though he definitely doesn’t have to anymore. But he wants to. He switches to every other week, and two hours instead of just the one. 

He finds it makes day to day life easier, it takes away some stress and pressure just to have two hours to talk and drop any masks he would usually wear. And he knows there’s more Hana wants to help him with. 

He also wants to learn more from her. 

He and Akira change a lot. What was a roaring fire becomes a gentle spark. Goro would normally hate that, softening for anyone, but this is different. He feels safe enough to do so, and he knows Akira does the same for him.

There’s nothing special about January sixteenth, but Akira and Goro have the day off. They sit huddled under blanks in the attic watching a movie Goro has already forgotten the name of. It’s an action movie, because Akira is obsessed with those even though Goro finds little interest in them. He doesn’t mind just watching Akira watch them, though. 

“Thank you,” Goro says.

“For what?”

“Finding me. Chasing me.” 

Goro words it carefully. He wants Akira to see he’s referring to the day at the station, but means...everything. 

“Mm.” Akira turns to smile knowingly at him. “Always.”