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Months after things finally seemed to calm down, Akira had started to think that there was finally nothing really left to worry about. But just as he began to sink into that comfort, that calm, he noticed that Goro Akechi began to brood. That was never a good sign. He knew better, by now, than to just ask him what was wrong. Goro would either get cagey and bristle at him about how it was none of his business, or give him a look like he’s an idiot for asking, and say it should be obvious what the issue is.
So, Akira just played the waiting game.
His answer came about a week into Goro’s somber, distant mood. One evening in Leblanc, the young detective took a deep breath, as if to steel himself, set down his coffee, and then lifted his head to look over the counter and at Akira.
“Akira,” he starts, and Akira stops arranging the coffee beans to turn around, dusting his hands on his apron.
“Mm?”
"I... I'm going to see my mother.”
Akira feels the world stop, for a moment, and his heart starts aching, but he hopes desperately that he’s managed to keep his face neutral.
“Yeah?” he says, trying to coax his boyfriend to elaborate before he lost his nerve.
“Yes,” Goro says, voice careful and restrained, as if intentionally tamping down every emotion he has inside him at this very moment. “I would… appreciate it… if you came with me.”
Oh.
Akira feels his heart doing some strange combination of melting and breaking, but he nods, a soft smile on his face as he reaches over the counter to take Goro’s hand.
“Of course. Do you want the others to come?” Akira asks. Somehow, they’d all fallen in together, in the wake of everything. It just felt right, all of them together, no boundaries or restraints, casual kisses and tight hugs and naps cuddled against each other after long days. But Goro had never quite settled in. He preferred to keep his distance from the others, sticking close only to Akira- even if he was slowly but surely warming up to the rest of the group.
Goro just shakes his head a bit stiffly, but squeezes Akira's hand tight. "...no, I..." He clears his throat to try and get himself sounding calm. "...I wanted to go tomorrow, weather permitting. Just the two of us."
"Whenever you want," Akira agrees. "I'll be sure to get flowers."
Goro is just overcome by a wave of relief, and he doesn't know how to handle it. Even after everything, this is incredibly intimate and close to his heart, and to have his friend-rival-lover so readily agree to come visit his mother’s grave fills him with emotions he can't quite sort out, but it feels like safety after a disaster.
"She... she liked red, and purple," Goro murmurs softly. "And white." He swallows hard, because remembering her, thinking about her, is still hard even now. “Flowers, I mean.”
"We could go get some now," Akira suggests gently. "I... if you'd like. We don't have to if you're not ready. It's up to you." He chances a quick kiss to his cheek, lingering only a moment. "I'll follow your lead."
Goro sighs, and the tension in his shoulders seems to seep out of him in time with his breath.
"No, it's... you're right. We should get some," Goro murmurs, not even flushing pink when Aki kisses him, because he's too lost in his thoughts to even be embarrassed. "I’d rather we don't end up scrambling tomorrow. I... come to think of it, isn't there a flower shop in the underground mall?"
Akira nods. "Yeah, Rafflesia. I used to work part time there. They liked me well enough, maybe my employee discount still works," he only half jokes.
It makes Goro crack a smile, and some more of the tension eases. "Let's go there, then," he says softly, before looking down at his coffee for a moment, lifting the mug back up to his lips and taking a few more sips. “Preferably before the trains get too busy. I’ll finish my coffee, and we’ll go.”
The trip to the flower shop is quiet. Goro can’t bring himself to say much, relieved when they finally get to the flower shop in an end of the mall that isn't nearly so crowded. Akira is used to Goro’s silences by now, and he just stays close, occasionally bumping their shoulders together or brushing their hands against each other- but nothing more. Goro can’t stand showing affection in public.
When they finally arrive at the shop, Goro stares at the options for a moment before he realizes he doesn't know a thing about flowers.
"I... don't know where to begin," he admits, softly. "I don't often shop for flowers, you see."
“Let me handle it, then,” Akira hums, looking around the selections. They'd expanded since he was last here, which is good. Goro is clearly going through a lot, even if none of it shows on that placid, calm face of his. Goro has always been a brilliant actor, so skilled in schooling his expression and masking his true emotions, but Akira knows by now how much turmoil is truly contained in the other’s heart.
"We'll start here," Akira says, picking up some white mums. "Lamentation and grief," he says softly. Then red carnations. "Admiration." Purple hyacinths. "Sorrow." White carnations. "Pure love." A single red rose. "Enduring love." And finally, a few purple tulips. "Grace." He holds it up for approval. "I can fill it out with some moss and baby's breath," he adds. Moss for maternal love, baby's breath for innocence, but he doesn’t say those two aloud.
Goro feels his mouth go dry and he feels his heart ache, because of course Akira is well-versed in floriography. Of course he is. And he picks them out so easily, such a beautiful blend in all the colors his mother liked, and he feels that infuriating sensation of tears stinging at his eyes- which he manages to blink back very, very quickly. "That... sounds fitting," he says, voice tight. "Thank you."
Akira feels his heart aching again, wanting to reach out for his boyfriend to comfort him, but knowing they're in public and that he shouldn't. Goro would never allow it, the prideful bastard. "Of course," he says softly, nodding in lieu of the kiss he wants to give him. He hands the bundle to one of the clerks, having a quick conversation with them, to which they nod and get to work, filling it out and wrapping the stems in white tissue paper, putting them in a box to keep them safe on the ride back. "Do you want to get anything else while we're here?" he asks, still quiet and wanting to at least take Akechi's hand.
But he resists.
"I... suppose some incense will be necessary," Goro says after a moment. "And... a tin of peppermints. She liked those. Said she used them to quit smoking when she found out she was pregnant." His voice is so quiet, so soft. Akira is the only one who's really heard anything about Goro’s mother, and even then, it was very scant information to begin with. This is probably the most detailed Goro has ever gotten about her.
“So that’s why you like peppermints,” Akira says, tilting his head.
"...I suppose it is. I would always want one when my mother had one. I just wanted to mimic her, as children do. It made my mouth feel cool on hot days," Goro muses, before starting to walk towards the convenience store, Akira following along and keeping pace. “And the smell was always pleasant.”
"We'll pick those up too," Akira says quietly. He's glad for the new information, files it away in that tiny spot in his heart that he's reserved for Akechi's mother.
“Then, that ought to be everything," Goro says softly. Flowers, incense, a treat she'd liked. He's no good at this kind of thing, the formalities. He usually didn't know what to do for her, what to give her. Quiet visits whenever the mood struck him, sometimes talking to her, in case somehow, she could hear. "...How much were the flowers, Akira? I need to pay for those."
This time Akira does reach out for him, a light touch on his shoulder. "Don't worry," he says softly. "I covered it, and my discount still worked. I know you don't like me to cover things, but..." A weak smile, "I thought this time I could get away with it. A gift for her."
Goro still protests, pulling away from the touch to his shoulder with a weak scowl. "Akira, at least let me pay for the flowers for my own mother," he insists, voice a bit strained. "It's already enough that you helped me decide what to get her."
"Seven thousand yen," Akira concedes with a sigh, knowing he shouldn’t push his luck. “You can pay me back later.”
Goro relaxes considerably at that, and in a brief moment of weakness, leans slightly against Akira's shoulder. "...I will. Thank you," he murmurs quietly. "To the convenience store, then." He lifts his head, keeping his distance for now, but he has to admit that he desperately just wants to pull Akira into a private nook somewhere and just kiss him. Cling to him. He still can't believe it, sometimes, that Akira is really here with him, and loves him.
Not that Goro has managed to admit that he feels the same in return yet, but Akira is patient.
During that fleeting moment of contact, Akira turns his head and nods, letting that motion hide the way his lips brush against Goro’s hair, and the soft, fond sigh that escapes. "You're welcome," he replies, full of every ounce of affection he has for him. "To the convenience store, then.”
The convenience store at least is a quick and easy trip, and it means they can take the train back to Leblanc that much faster, get to organize all their things in a single bag for the visit tomorrow. Goro is quiet the entire way back, but Akira can catch the way his clenched fists tremble now and then, and his heart aches to reach out and take his hands… but Goro would no doubt shake off his touch if he dared.
Akira isn’t deterred: it just means that the moment they're in the privacy of the attic, Akira can finally pull his boyfriend into a tight hug, where Goro goes stiff for a moment. It’s not long before he sighs and lets himself relax, bowing his head to rest his forehead on Akira’s shoulder, arms coming up to clutch at his back.
Here, Goro can just hug Akira tightly as he wants, without fear of anyone else seeing his weakness.
"...I'm not usually this much a wreck," he mutters quietly, even though he looks incredibly calm from the outside. Still, at this point, his act is no match for Akira’s perceptiveness. "I don't know what's wrong with me."
“You forget that I’ve already seen you an actual wreck. This is nothing in comparison,” Akira chirps, far too cheerily for the situation, and Goro feels the need to swat at him, ears going red at the unfortunate reminder of his breakdown in the engine room, months ago. Akira still doesn’t let go, considering his words carefully before he speaks. "Besides… This is important to you," he murmurs soothingly. "You're letting someone into something vulnerable, and that's hard for you. I'm incredibly thankful you're allowing me this." A kiss to his temple and a soft hum.
Goro hates how easily Akira can pick him apart.
"...you sentimental fool," Goro says weakly, voice breaking just a second, before he hides further away into Akira's shoulders and clings to him tighter.
"Your fool," Akira answers honestly, not letting go.
Akira can read him like an open book. That terrifies him, it has terrified him for a while, now. The idea that someone knows him so deeply, so intimately, able to discern the mess of emotions and impulses and struggles in his heart that even he can't make sense of half the time... it's terrifying. Akira can read his body language and read between the lines of his words, able to so gently open him up and see the contents of his wounded heart and not be repulsed by what lies within.
Akira doesn't mean to read him so well, but he just... does. Maybe it's a fellow Wild Card thing. Maybe it's the bond. Maybe it's his being the other half of the coin. Or maybe it's just dumb luck. No matter the reason, Akira is just glad that he can tell how his boyfriend ticks, because the stubborn detective would never admit he’s in distress, otherwise.
Slowly, Akira walks Goro back over to the bed, just to sit for now, humming a wordless melody to try and calm him. If the Phantom Thieves are his treasures, then Goro is his perfect, wonderful Obsidian. Perfect for all his flaws, a mirror to his own self. "I have you," he murmurs. "I always will, and I’ll never let go.”
Goro doesn't trust his voice to stay steady right now, so all he does is hold onto his beloved. He’s reminded of the days he was small and innocent and too dumb to understand his situation, his mother's situation. Where his mother would hold him tight when he cried and tuck him into bed, and hum him to sleep. The tears spill over and he just clings tighter to Akira, face buried into his shoulder to hide the shameful sight. He hates being this weak, he hates the grieving being so open and raw all over again.
Goro is admittedly relieved to end up on the bed because all he wants to do is curl up. He kicks off his shoes and tries desperately to just make his eyes stop watering, to control himself, make his shaking body hold still. Part of him wants to hide away and never come back out, but the other part of him sinks further into Akira’s embrace and just succumbs to the warmth and the comfort, something he didn’t have for so much of his life.
Goro never thought he'd have this: someone loving him, truly, again. It's terrifying, he thinks, because now after the hell he’s been through, he has something to lose again. He manages to pull back just enough to kiss Akira with a bit of desperation, just wanting the comfort, the warmth, the intimacy, fingers tangling into his hair as he takes breathless kiss after breathless kiss. Thank you, I love you, I'm afraid, I'm grateful, I'm miserable, I'm a mess, don't leave me, I'm sorry- So many emotions he can't put into words, but he can try to convey them somehow through touch. Mostly the I love you, I love you, I love you.
Akira kisses back, over and over again, digging his fingers into Akechi's hair, grip loose for now but willing to get tighter if he needs. You're welcome, I'll always love you, you have me, it's okay, you're precious to me, I'll never leave, you're forgiven- Akira knows. He's known since the very first “I hate you.”
They don’t need to say such things aloud, letting the words silently come across in the fervent presses of their lips, the way their fingers and hands slide over and through each other’s hair.
Akira's so good to Goro. So sweet, so comforting, a steady anchor while his own heart is a tumultuous maelstrom. By the time Goro has to stop to catch his breath, he ends up nuzzling into Akira’s shoulder again, resting there a moment before he shifts and starts kissing him all over again, insatiable as ever. (Akira is all too happy to oblige.) When Goro finally draws away some minutes later, sounding a little breathless, he looks tired. Exhausted, a bit unsteady, uneasy, a bit mortified, a bit anxious- but mostly just exhausted.
"...sleep with me," Goro demands quietly more than asks, because he wants them to be close. Close and warm and safe. Bodies curled up together and touching, and the peaceful quiet of sleep and dreaming.
"Of course," Akira says easily, kissing the tip of his nose with a smile- which makes Goro scowl for a moment, cheeks flushing pink with indignant embarrassment.
Despite his silent protest about Akira’s sappy affection, Goro is relieved. They fall into bed together and cuddle so easily, fitting together like puzzle pieces, the weight of their bodies against each other and on the sheets just so comforting. It grounds him, calms him, and he situates himself so he can keep a firm, possessive grip on his rival, his love.
And, in a move that would've shocked the Goro from a year ago, he falls asleep. Easily, quietly, in front of another person, even. He sleeps, so much better than he ever did before he finally succumbed to Akira’s stubborn love and devotion.
Akira was unfairly magnetic, after all. To bring them all in, all the Thieves, to coax them into this new love, a central figure they all loved and adored, the keystone of their group. Who else could it ever be? they’d no doubt insist. Who else, but their beloved leader?
When morning comes, it’s cloudy and quiet, a chilly fall morning where the breeze makes Goro bury his nose further into his scarf as he leads the way through the cemetery. He’s been incredibly tense from the moment they stepped into the cemetery, gripping the bag full of supplies with a vicelike hold. Akira had offered to carry it, but Goro had nearly snapped at him for it, viciously protective of something in the bag that Akira hadn’t managed to peek at.
Eventually, Goro comes to a stop under the shady boughs of a tree, in front of a grave just like the many others around them. This one, though, has "Tsubaki Akechi" engraved onto the stone, and Goro hesitates a moment before he gestures slightly at it, as if to say, well, here we are. He's surprised by Akira pulling out a picnic blanket from his own bag and spreading it out, setting near the grave, before he uses a small dustbrush to clean up the grave of leaves and dust and other miscellaneous debris. Goro feels his throat getting tight and his heart clenching, and before he even comprehends it, he's on his knees before the grave and clutching at Akira's arm for dear life, shaking.
It makes Akira stop after he’s cleaned up the grave, resting a hand atop the one clutching at his forearm.
“Goro,” Akira says softly. “It’s alright. Let’s set up the flowers for her, okay?”
Goro just nods.
He hates this.
Coming here was always hard for him, but today, bringing someone else along with him- it made it agonizing. Painful and raw and deep, like the old wounds from her death had split right open again in his heart, and now it’s mixed with the shame and terror of letting someone else see him like this, vulnerable and weak. Even now, he hated showing Akira these moments of agony.
But Akira wasn’t actually paying him much mind- or if he was, he was doing a good job of hiding it. He was setting up incense, setting up flowers, cleaning up the grave, as if he’s done this countless times before. Maybe he has. Goro doesn’t know if he wants to ask.
“Good morning, Tsubaki-san,” Akira says softly, as he sets the flowers in their place, before adding one more touch- the tin of peppermints they’d gotten the day before. “It’s good to meet you.”
Something about hearing Akira speak- something about hearing someone else talking to his mother, meeting her, acknowledging that she existed- it makes the tears spill over, even though Goro tries with all his heart not to break. Goro's voice doesn't want to cooperate at first, but he eventually manages to murmur, when Akira finishes his quiet work.
"Hello, mother," he says quietly, voice weak. "I... it's been a while. I’ve- this is... this is Akira.” He swallows hard, still shaking, his grip tight on Akira's forearm as an anchor. "I figured it was... past due, bringing someone to meet you."
Goro feels pathetic. He’d never been much the spiritual sort, he’d never given much credence to thoughts of an afterlife, but even though he said that, he’d still inevitably find his way back here, to this grave, speaking as if the woman buried there would still be able to hear him somehow. Even just speaking now, it fills his cheeks with mortified heat, making him feel exposed and weak and pathetic. So, so pathetic.
Akira just rests his hand atop his and leans against him, shoulders pressed together, grey eyes looking at him through those glasses with steady calm, quiet, and understanding.
…well, even if Goro was being pathetic, Akira didn’t seem to judge him at all. It’s a relief to Goro, but mixed with further embarrassment. After all, it meant Akira was seeing him like this again, to see him breaking and losing his composure, heart raw with grief he’d never allowed anyone else to witness before.
Goro takes a deep breath, and continues.
"Consider this some proof that I didn't turn out like… him." Another hard swallow, a shuddering breath. "...he's in prison, mother. Shido. I... he's finally going to start atoning for everything he's done. I wish you could see it for yourself."
Akira feels his heart breaking, and he’s glad for the fact that the cemetery is desolate this morning, because it lets him lean over to pull Goro closer against him, holding that trembling body a little tighter against his own. Goro doesn’t acknowledge Akira’s touch though, far too focused on the grave before him, still speaking so softly.
"...I'm sorry. I... did turn out like him, for a while. I was so desperate to make him pay, I..." Goro bows his head in shame, trying and failing to keep the tears at bay. "I shut out everything that wasn't revenge. I did horrible things and I can’t justify any of them. Hah… you would be… furious with me, I’m sure. Another disappointment to add to the pile." His laugh is a bit bitter, but he clenches a first into his own coat, trying to rein in those tears again.
(It’s not working, but Akira doesn’t judge him for his tears, leaning over to kiss away the trails left behind on his cheeks.)
Akira squeezes his hand, letting him talk, resting his forehead against Akechi's temple, but he interrupts when Goro tries to call himself a disappointment.
"He's made mistakes," Akira says suddenly, firmly. "Like we all have. But he's still an amazing person, even if he doesn't believe it. You raised a fine son, Tsubaki-san. I'm... very thankful, to be part of his life." He squeezes one of Goro’s hands. "He's changed mine for the better. He’s just being stubbornly hard on himself because he’s got a horrible habit of it. I’m working on it,” he insists, a fire in his eyes that tells Goro he’s being absolutely sincere, and it makes his cheeks burn as his heart twists and flips in his chest.
This idiot. How can Akira still insist that Goro is a good person?
Goro sighs, exasperated, but nonetheless feels himself relax just a little.
"As you can see, mother... He’s irrationally, foolishly optimistic. He, for some godforsaken reason, cares about me. He knocked sense into me and dragged me put of the pit of hatred I dug myself into. That Shido pushed me into." A hard swallow, and a shaky breath, before he continues. "He saved my life, mother. Changed it, irreversibly. And... I love him," he whispers, shaking badly as he says the words aloud. "So, I... hope you approve."
Akira’s gaze snaps right back to Goro’s face, staring over at him with wide, stunned eyes because that's the first time Goro's ever said it in any form. Love. He said it. Said it to his mother, even, while clinging to his arm like a lifeline.
Akira pulls Goro closer to him and tilts Goro’s head down so he can press a kiss to his forehead, holding him close. He's trying not to shake apart internally, soul singing at Goro’s words, his quiet confession. Now isn't the time for him to be going to pieces, after all. Now is the time for Leader to be there, a steady rock for his most precious person.
"I love him too," he says, cracking a smile, looking bashful for once. "I’ve, uh, got it pretty bad for him, in fact. I promise I'll be good to him, though I can't promise to take care of him always." After a weak laugh, Akira’s voice goes into a conspiratorial whisper, like he's sharing a secret with Akechi's mother. "He's so independent, you know? He refuses to ask for help even when he should."
Goro has been shaking with suppressed tears, but that conspiratorial whisper catches him so off-guard that he laughs, a breathless and tearful and shaky sound, cheeks flushing pink. "Must you try to embarrass me even in front of my mother?" is the choked response Goro offers, holding on tighter and leaning into him, burying his face into his shoulder, his free hand still squeezing tight at Akira’s. He's relieved there's no one else around right now to see him falling apart. Just his beloved, and his mother's quiet grave.
Akira laughs and squeezes his hand gently. "I think I'm supposed to," he whispers fondly. "And it got you to laugh, just a little."
Goro is currently trying to hide away his face into Aki's shoulder, but he did laugh. He did smile, if for that single moment. It’s probably the first time he's done that for his mother in a long time. He hopes he can show her, someday, more of his smiles, show her that despite everything, somehow, he's okay. It takes some time for him to compose himself again, but it feels like a weight has been lifted from his heart. That finally, he can open up about the loss that scarred him from his youth, how his mother’s suicide had set him upon the path he was trapped on.
He’s startled out of his reverie by Akira speaking again.
"I’m not the only one he has, either," Akira adds. "There's a lot of people who care about him, even if he’s having trouble accepting it, so you don't need to worry. We'll keep him safe for you."
Oh.
Goro grabs Akira by the collar and pulls him into firm, but bold kisses, unafraid and wanting to prove to to himself that he's not alone anymore. "I love you," he breathes against his lips between kisses, clinging tighter to him. He feels himself blushing, his heart racing in his chest, but he also wants to show his mother- if she’s out there, somewhere- that he’s alright. He’s safe, he’s loved, he’s in love, and he’s living on.
He got revenge on Shido for her, and for himself too. In his mind, his debt for living had finally been repaid. He can try to move on.
Akira rubs along his arm, squeezing him gently while Goro tries to calm down again. Akira was only a little surprised by the kisses, but he happily kissed back, smiling brightly as Goro finally says the words to him directly, making his heart soar as tears sting at his own eyes. His hand comes up to gently cup Goro's jaw, fingers threading into his hair behind an ear.
"I love you, too," he nearly purrs, considering himself the happiest man in the world right now. “You stubborn idiot.”
Things are so much different than Goro ever could have predicted for himself. He hides away a minute longer, dealing with his tears, before he takes a deep, shuddering breath and tries to get his thoughts together. He can't decide if his mother must be thrilled or scandalized to find him kissing a lover right in front of her grave (maybe a bit of both?), but he can imagine her laughing clear as day. He desperately hopes she approves, wherever she is.
For a while, he relishes the privacy, the shade of the trees, the cloud fall day. He keeps trading soft, emotional kisses with his beloved. And slowly, but surely, he calms down. He relaxes, he doesn't feel so wound up and ready to implode or crumble.
"I..." Goro swallows hard. "...may I tell you about her?"
Akira moves to nuzzle into Goro’s hair, humming softly before he nods. "I would like nothing more," he says, soft and encouraging.
Goro reaches over to the bag they brought, and Akira finally learns what Goro was so viciously guarding on the way here: a little photo album. It's small, a single photo per page, but there's still enough photos in the book to clearly make it one of Goro's treasures. He opens it up, and the first is just a picture of a young woman- so, so young. Maybe only a few years older than they are now. Her hair is the same tawny brown as Akechi's, her eyes the same reddish-chocolate, and even her facial shape is similar. There's no doubt Goro took mostly after his mother, that pretty face of his looking so much like hers, now that Akira can finally see for himself.
"That's her," Goro murmurs, shifting so he can set the album down on the blanket so they can both see it. "I believe this was taken a year or two before I... happened."
In this first photo, Tsubaki is smiling, sitting under a cherry blossom tree in full bloom, waving at whoever the photographer must have been. Goro never knew who took it, probably a friend of hers that Goro never knew. But he's glad the photo exists. She's young and beautiful, exceptionally so, and it's no wonder that... well, that Shido became interested. Anyone would: she was stunning, young and fit, her eyes shimmering with life and unburdened by the troubles of the world.
Happy.
Akira looks over Goro’s shoulder, tracing Tsubaki's features with his eyes. Memorizing her, just in case this is the only time Goro lets him see this. Akira vaguely remembers how Shido's shadow said Goro was "too much like that woman," and now Akira can see the resemblance with his own eyes. "You look so much like her," he murmurs. "She's beautiful."
"She... she is," Goro murmurs quietly.
Goro turns the page, and it's a new photo. Tsubaki is a few years older now, but still so young, too young, with dark bags under her eyes. A small child that's undoubtedly Goro as a toddler, innocent and beaming, is sitting in her lap, clumsy hands clutching at a fluffy blanket. She holds him close and smiles for the camera, a few balloons in the background showing that it was Goro’s third birthday.
Letting Akira just get a good look at the photo, Goro is silent for a few moments. "I... don't remember this one being taken. I suppose I was too young to," he decides to say.
"She did her best," Goro begins, voice wavering slightly. "I was... unexpected. Obviously. She wasn't ready to be with child. I learned, as I got older, how horridly people treated her. A single mother out of wedlock, a woman forced into prostitution just to make ends meet... I never did get to learn about her own family. But I imagine she must have been alone, to resort to such a thing." His expression is sorrowful, longing, almost apologetic, as he looks down at the photo. "Stuck with her rapist's bastard child," he mutters quietly, fingers trembling on the photo.
Akira strokes down his boyfriend’s back a few times, offering him silent support. "You were adorable," he murmurs, before kissing Akechi's temple, soft and gentle. "While I'm sorry for the circumstances, I'm happy you're here. I'm happy you're alive."
The sentiment makes Goro’s throat tighten up again, and he has to stop and force all that down before he can keep going. He could break down again, and Akira honestly wouldn’t think any less of him for it, but Goro still refuses to give in, and instead turns the pages.
He keeps going, giving commentary on each photo, each page, and Akira can’t help but notice how Tsubaki looks more and more tired as the years go on. In the first photos, where Goro is still an infant, a baby, there’s a note of apprehension in her posture, an anxiety that Akira recognizes easily. She gets a little thinner in each photo, the dark circles under her eyes getting more pronounced, her hair becoming a little more frazzled.
In one of the photos, it looks like it's Goro's birthday again: six years, judging by the candles on the little cake. Six-year-old Goro is proudly showing off a very familiar-looking toy ray gun, something that makes the current Goro pause before he speaks.
"...she didn't often have the funds to get me presents. Toys and the like were rare luxuries, and I had gotten quite used to going without most things other children had. I found out later on that this toy was quite expensive when it was first released," he murmurs. "She must have saved up for who knows how long." Akira knows it was the same toy gun Goro used in the Metaverse- in pristine condition, even. Goro no doubt had treasured the toys from the day he got them, protecting them, keeping them with him even as he was shuffled from foster to foster.
After all, the toy gun, the toy sword- they were all he had left of his mother.
Along with these photos, of course.
Photo after photo, small story after small story. A lot of the later photos are clumsily-taken shots of Tsubaki alone- presumably by a child Goro trying to use the camera by himself. But some of them are of Tsubaki taking selfies of them together, or even rare photos where someone else took the shot. There's a photo in there of a five-year-old Goro eating pancakes and there's syrup all over his mouth, his mother laughing and trying to clean him up.
“Pancakes?” Akira says with a wry smile, unable to help it, and Akechi rolls his eyes.
“Oh, spare me,” he mutters. “They were a rare treat. The way she made them was perfect. It wasn’t often that she made them, a rare indulgence. She was often too tired or too busy to make them for me, but on good days… on good days, sometimes, we would have them.” His gaze lingers on the photo a few moments longer, and he looks so vulnerable in those moments that Akira’s heart twists with guilt for all the times he and the others had teased him about the pancake incident.
“…good days, huh?” Akira murmurs quietly, not really seeking an answer- but he doesn’t need one. He knows what that means.
Page by page, Goro goes through the photos. The memories. A photo of the two of them at the same bathhouse that he was often sent to when his mother brought men home. A photo of Tsubaki watering a little planter of flowers, the shot at a clumsy angle from below- clearly Goro’s attempt at photography. A photo of Tsubaki asleep and exhausted on the couch, with a child’s blanket draped over her. (Goro must have tried to tuck in his mother with his own blanket, Akira realizes, and the thought makes his heart melt and ache at once.) A selfie that Tsubaki took of herself and a young Goro, with their faces and hands covered in paint splotches, the two of them laughing mid-shot.
Goro tells the little stories, the little memories. All so precious, so fleeting.
Until the last photo in the album, where a young elementary-age Goro is completely asleep atop his mother where they rest on the couch, little head nestled on her lap, innocent and peaceful. His arms are wrapped stubbornly around his mother’s hips, clinging tight and not wanting to let go even in sleep, dressed up in pinstripe pajamas and covered in a blanket. Tsubaki looks so tired, but she smiles weakly at the camera and puts a finger to her lips with one hand, a quiet and playful gesture to the camera. Don’t wake him, she seems to say, eyes warm.
"...This is the last photo I have of us together," Goro says faintly. "I don’t remember falling asleep on her, but it feels a miracle that I did. It wasn’t often that she could simply… rest, and indulge me, like this.”
Akira hums softly, gaze resting on the child Goro looking so sweet in the photo, and sees Akechi before he became consumed with thoughts of revenge.
Goro’s voice becomes a little shaky, his breaths unsteady. “...she died when I was eight. She... couldn't take it, anymore. The bad days became more frequent, as I got older. The days where she'd curse and spit about Shido and cry and- I think, drink, but I was too young to understand, then. Some days I could hear her crying about him ruining her. Her life. ...being forced to have me. Care for me alone. She’d send me away to the park or the bathhouse or anywhere she didn’t have to look at me for a while. I know she never meant for me to hear, but I still heard her when she cried about how she didn’t want me, how she never asked for any of this, especially not me. How I ruined her life."
Akira reaches for his hand and holds it tight, quiet for a long time. There's not much he can say, when hearing things like this. Anything comforting can come off as hollow platitudes at best, and cruelly insensitive at worst. There’s no way to make any of it okay, because it never was. No amount of "I love you, I'm so glad you exist" helps when faced with the objective facts: Akechi wasn't planned, probably wasn't wanted sometimes, and that Tsubaki's life went off the rails because of him, and because of what Shido did to her. That she was suffering, she was alone and ostracized, and her life was painfully difficult no matter how much she loved her son. (And it was so clear that she loved Goro, just from looking at the pictures.)
"She should have had help," Akira eventually says. "Should have had someone to share her difficulties with. Some kind of support, anything. I'm sorry that wasn't the case." He sighs and runs his hand up and down Goro’s arm again. "You should have had help and support. But… if nothing else, she loved you. These photos, those toys- everything she did for you, it’s all proof," he says, firm but gentle, and he feels Goro clutching at his hand so tightly it hurts, but he doesn’t let go.
“I wonder, sometimes,” Goro says, voice weak and bitter, on the verge of tears. “If she loved me, why didn’t she stay? Why would she- why would she end it so that I came home and found her- found her hanging-”
That’s when Goro’s voice finally breaks and he chokes, eyes shutting tight to try and drive away the horrific memory that’s haunted him for most of his life.
Akira pulls Goro hard and fast into a tight embrace, and feels how the detective starts to come apart in his arms, shoulders shaking with sobs that he still refuses to let escape. All Akira can do is hold him, a hand rubbing up and down his back, the other hand stroking and combing through his soft tawny hair, his own eyes welling up with tears, his own heart breaking to see his beloved so wounded and broken, so traumatized by things no child should have to endure.
“It’s not your fault, Goro,” Akira murmurs quietly into his hair, his own voice shaking. “It’s not. She was in pain, and… she probably felt like she just couldn’t endure it anymore. When someone’s that desperate, hopeless, desolate- they don’t think straight. It doesn’t mean she didn’t love you. She just wanted that pain to stop.”
He can’t imagine the agony Goro Akechi has had to endure all these years. It’s been ten years now, he realizes, since Goro’s mother killed herself. Ten years of bottled-up mourning, ten years of rage and anger for Shido, ten years plotting some way to get revenge for his mother, ten years trying to figure out a way to make Shido pay- to make him sorry for what he’d done to Tsubaki Akechi.
Ten years of Goro Akechi trying to atone for the crime- no, the guilt- of simply being born.
Goro buries his face into Akira’s shoulder, and finally lets himself reach up to clutch at Akira’s back, fingers curling into his coat. He holds him desperately, as if terrified, and Akira holds him just as tightly, trying to somehow prove to him that he won’t be alone again. Never again, never, never…
“It’s not your fault,” Akira keeps whispering. “You were just a kid.”
It all comes back to that.
Goro Akechi had only been a child.
Goro’s mother killed herself after eight years of loving and caring for her child. Akechi got to know her, love her, make memories with her, and have these photos- and still be abandoned. Still, even with tears running down his face, Akira could never be angry at Tsubaki, no: just angry at the cruelty of her situation. The awful fact she had been pushed so far into a corner that she felt that there was no other way out but the noose- and the unfair, agonizing trauma it would inflict on her young son.
Akira doesn’t know how long they sit there, before Tsubaki’s grave, clinging to each other like this. He doesn’t know how long he’s been petting Goro’s hair, rubbing his back, or how long Goro’s tears have been soaking into his shoulder. All he knows is that, after ten years of hell, Goro Akechi finally gets to properly mourn his mother, and Akira refuses to leave him to endure it all alone.
By the time Goro calms down, Akira feels like his boyfriend might actually fall asleep on him from the sheer exhaustion permeating his very being.
“…I’m sorry,” Goro says quietly, sounding defeated and almost too tired to even be properly ashamed of his breakdown. Almost. “God, I’m pathetic,” he mutters, the sound muffled into Akira’s coat.
“You’re not,” Akira sighs, before grabbing Goro’s face and forcing him to come out of hiding, kissing him gently. “You should know by now I don’t care about your image, Goro. You don’t have to be a perfect detective prince around me. You don’t need to be some emotionless killing machine anymore, either. I’m not going to think you’re weak, or pathetic, for crying at your mother’s grave. You needed it. You, of all people, deserve to have a meltdown after everything that’s happened.”
All Goro can feel now is relief. Relief, and an overwhelming, nearly suffocating swell of love for the idiot who loves him, despite everything. He’s relieved the cemetery is cloudy and grey and quiet right now, keeping the place empty, giving him the privacy to grieve, to break, and to cling to Akira for comfort. He could finally begin to unburden his heart of the things that have been plaguing him for so long.
There’s another few minutes lost, just to Akira kissing him, slow and sweet and loving, reassuring. Akira comforts him in a way no one else can, and can reach out to his guarded heart and soothe it so kindly and sincerely.
“I love you,” Akira breathes after one of the kisses.
“…thank you,” is Goro’s soft, genuine response, before he grabs his boyfriend by the face and kisses him again.
It's only when Goro realizes how much time has passed that he tries to truly get himself ready to leave, swallowing hard. He rubs at his eyes stubbornly, trying to erase any and all evidence of his tears, even if his eyes will be puffy for a while yet.
"...it's getting late," he murmurs quietly.
"It is," Akira agrees, with no judgement. "What do you want to do?"
"...we should... probably take our leave," Goro says, swallowing hard. "It's... been a lot. And mother could do with some peace, too."
Akira hums and nods in agreement, stroking Goro’s hair one more time before they both stand. They gather their things, and Goro protectively tucks his photo album back into his bag. Akira folds up the blanket he’d brought, draping it over his forearm for a moment while his other hand reaches out to briefly rest atop the grave marker.
"Tsubaki-san..." Akira says quietly, " Thank you for... for holding on as long as you did, and for loving him. You did so much for his sake... so please, rest easy now. I’ll take care of him from here on out.”
Goro doesn’t realize there are fresh tears running down his cheeks again, too focused on staring at the boy who’d stolen his heart. He just feels something in his heart finally settle, weary and tired and glad for rest, his mind finding a new, stunning quiet settling over it. Tsubaki can rest. Goro can rest.
It’s over.
It’s over.
He reaches out for Akira’s hand, squeezing it tightly as the fall breeze whirls around them and stirs some of the falling leaves.
Goro swears that in that moment, he catches the scent of peppermint.
He hopes it means she’s happy.