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When Akira came home to Leblanc, several things became immediately clear to him:
1. Goro Akechi was sitting, alive, at the counter, chin on his hands in a graceful, yet clearly annoyed and impatient manner, staring at Sojiro as if he was trying to send a bullet through his skull with the sheer power of his gaze (for all Akira knew, maybe he was).
2. No one else could see or hear Goro Akechi.
3. Goro Akechi had absolutely no idea that Akira could.
And Akira wouldn’t be the infamous leader of the Phantom Thieves, stumbling from Palace to Palace, one darkened, shrivelled heart worse than the next with infinite calm, if he wasn’t adaptable.
Oh, he was born ready for this.
“There you are,” Sojiro greeted him, voice gruff but not unkind. “I could use your help, it’s rather full today.”
Full , that meant they had two customers, leaving out Akechi. Which Akira did. Pointedly so.
“Full ,” Akechi sneered from his usual spot on the counter, crimson eyes narrowed and focused on Akira, as he put his Morgana-bag down, stepped behind the counter, right into his field of view, tying the apron behind his back. “What a joke.”
Uhm, rude. No one had given him permission to make fun of Sojiro, that was their thing.
Sojiro pulled him aside.
“That guy over there has had nothing but coffee all day long. Give him decaf when he asks for a re-pour or I’ll actually get worried he’ll die of caffeine shock.”
“Classy,” Akechi mumbled. He had leaned in close with widened eyes - being invisible to the world clearly having lowered his inhibitions (and manners - though, in all fairness, they had been long gone already when the whole Maruki-debacle had started). “Patronising a customer because you think you know what’s good for them. I wish you’d give me the proper coffees then.”
There was a heavy sigh in Akechi’s voice and Akira, having to hold back a smirk, quickly grabbed a towel to clean the counter, while Sojiro went out to get cigarettes.
Right. He thought Akechi was unusually cranky today (even for his standards) - Seemed like sitting here all day long, watching other people get served Sojiro’s best coffee, had done a number on him.
Morgana had climbed out of the bag, revelled in the costumers greetings and admiration and then jumped straight onto Akechi’s lap, going right through him and then curling up on the chair as if he wasn’t there.
Akira watched, hoping his expression didn’t give him away, as Akechi seemed to go through several phases of grief. There was shock, denial and finally a loud growl of anger, as he snarled and kept sitting inside Morgana out of - and Akira was sure of that - nothing but pure spite.
He poured himself a coffee, Akechi’s favourite brew, leaned over the counter until he was really, really close to him and drank it with loud “mhhhm”s and other sounds of enjoyment.
Akechi sniffed, clearly taking in the gentle aroma of the coffee.
And growled again.
That’s what his invisible, bitchy, ghost not-quite-boyfriend got for being alive all this time and only showing up to haunt him now .
Akira couldn’t quite help the smirk twitching at the corners of his mouth and quickly hid it behind another deep sip, leaning back again with the cup before Akechi could smack it out of his hands.
He had no illusions that he would , even if it wasted his one chance of stealing some of his coffee for himself.
“You okay there?” Morgana asked with a confused blue eye twitching open. “You usually don’t enjoy coffee quite this loudly.”
“Never been better,” Akira replied and it was, wonderfully, the truth.
Being able to tease Akechi left him giddy. Seeing him alive in front of him, leather-gloved fingers clenched to fists (why the hell was he still wearing gloves? He was a ghost, for fuck’s sake!), face growing red in anger and no way of letting it out…?
Perfect.
“You’re weird.” Morgana had gotten up onto his feet again, shifting on the little bar stool, his tail raised as he wiggled his butt right into Akechi’s face.
The boy grimaced, seemed to weigh spite against dignity and finally got up, not without one last, ineffective death glare towards Morgana, and walked a whole of two steps, before letting himself fall onto the bar stool right next to his old one.
“I hate it here,” he commented.
Akira had some mercy, poured himself some new coffee and “forgot” to drink it while working.
The cup was empty when he collected it ten minutes later.
When Akira came down the stairs the next morning, stretching his arms in a sleepy manner while sitting down for breakfast, Akechi was already there, sitting at his usual spot (apparently the threat of Morgana returning could not keep the man away) and staring grumpily at Sojiro, who was serving curry on a plate for Akira.
“Good morning!” he greeted (Akechi) cheerfully, digging into his food with enthusiasm.
Sojiro regarded him with a raised eyebrow.
“You sure seem in a good mood. How come?”
"Ann’s coming over in a bit,” Akira replied with his mouth full, because while there was no correlation between the two, it was technically true.
Sojiro smirked (un-)knowingly. “I see. Ann-chan and you, huh?”
Akechi looked up from his spot on the stool, turning towards the bar Akira was sitting in, pale-faced and murderous.
“What ?”
“She just wanted to catch up. Whine about modelling while I whine about university. You know. I’ve been looking forward to it since the semester ended.”
“Good for you,” Sojiro chuckled. “I’ll keep some curry warm for her, then, and leave you two alone.”
“No!” Akechi called after him, sounding sweetly desperate. “Don’t leave them alone! What sort of a guardian are you?!”
But Sojiro was already out the door.
Akira tried his best to not snort into his curry.
“Heyya! Ugh, it’s so good to see you!” Ann whirled into Leblanc, leaving barely a pause for breathing, as she rushed towards Akira - straight through Akechi, who was standing in front of her with his arms stretched out, as if trying to be a wall, holding her back - and pulled him into a tight hug.
“Lady Ann!” Morgana whined from the bench. “I’m here too!”
“Of course you are!” she greeted him by pulling him up and pressing him against her chest in a snuggle.
Morgana purred.
Akechi mimicked the urge to puke, making Akira laugh out loud.
He quickly hid it behind a cough.
“So, how are things? How have you been? I need to hear everything!” Ann's eyes lit up before he could even answer, and she slid into the booth, leaning over to him with a conspiratorial tone. “Have you started dating yet?”
“No!” Akechi replied for him, outraged and unheard, as he stood next to their booth, looking lost.
“You know you’d be the first to know if I did,” Akira said, settling on a vague answer.
“You have got to put yourself out there.” Ann saw right through him, of course, waggling her finger at him, even as she spooned up some of Sojiro’s curry with a hum.
“Absolutely not,” Akechi threw in weakly.
“I don’t know.” Akira settled on a little half-shrug, not quite unappreciative, just… overwhelmed. It seemed to have the effect he was hoping for - Ann’s grin turned into a soft, empathetic smile.
“I know it’s been hard for you. I know you liked Akechi. But you’ve got to move forward. He’s gone, you know?”
The bite had disappeared from Akechi’s voice when he spoke next, the desperation making place for something much deeper, much realer and so, so much sadder.
“You… liked me?”
Akira didn’t like how real things had gotten. He prefered teasing. He prefered not thinking about anything serious, making light-hearted fun of the very heavy-hearted fact that the love of his life had returned to him as a ghost.
He quickly steered against it with all his might.
“I don’t know, Ann. Sometimes I feel like he’s still here.”
“I am,” Akechi said helpfully, hopeful.
“Sometimes I think I can still hear his voice,” Akira added dramatically.
Akechi glared.
“Maybe you should stop watching old videos of him then,” Ann replied with a worried frown. “I’m not sure that’s healthy, Akira.”
“You’re not watching those!” Akechi mumbled, sounding outraged. “Of all the things… I can’t even watch myself in those without cringing!”
“Oh, I don’t do that,” Akira swiftly reassured both of them. “I never liked his TV persona much. Or the Detective Prince one, for that matter. I always knew there was something beneath."
“Hmh,” Ann grinned between bites. “You’re a bad boy kind of guy, I get it.”
He gave her a crooked grin, unable to deny it.
Akechi stared at him in pain-stricken silence and something in his eyes made Akira want to not look at him ever again, so deeply sad and lost and in disbelief… shit.
It’s not like he didn’t want to tell him eventually. He knew he should’ve already. It couldn’t be easy, living in a world as a ghost, unseen, unheard, by any- and everyone. Maybe he was being petty. Maybe he was hurt. Maybe he had mourned Akechi for years, alone, broken-hearted and wanted to make the stubborn idiot feel just as shitty. For leaving him in the first place (twice). For never telling him what he needed to know. For not showing up here sooner.
Was that wrong of him? Maybe a little.
But it hadn’t bothered him, not too much, before he saw the heart-wrenching look in Akechi’s eyes upon learning that he had liked the real him all along.
But now, his expression was turning into a frown and Akira realised a second too late that he had been staring too long into nothing (or, more accurately, at Akechi).
“Are you…-?” Akechi asked, but Akira quickly cut him off.
“Ann?”
“Yeah?”
“I really liked him. A lot. I don’t want to forget him. I don’t want to move on. I don’t want to date anyone else.”
“You’re an idiot,” said Akechi.
“You’re an idiot,” said Ann.
Morgana nodded enthusiastically from his seat.
“What are you doing, falling for me?” Akechi asked.
“Couldn’t you have fallen for someone a little less dead?” Ann sighed.
Morgana stole from her curry when she wasn’t looking, no longer interested in Akira’s fucked up love life - Who could blame him.
Though, all things considered, a boyfriend no one else could see wasn’t worse than a talking cat, was it? Just one more secret he’d carry around (literally - Well, in Morgana’s case. Akechi had legs. He could carry himself. Though, in fairness, Morgana had legs too, he was just very lazy about using them).
“I guess I am an idiot,” Akira spoke into the silence, since that was the one thing all his friends (and secret crushes and rivals and skeletons in his closet and ghosts) had agreed upon. “But I can’t help it.”
He smiled, just a little.
“Have you ever thought about how sexy he’d look in a ponytail, though? How could I forget someone with that mental image in my head?”
Ann hummed appreciatively. She may be a lesbian, but she sure appreciated aesthetics.
The next day, Akechi sat at the counter again, legs dangling impatiently and his hands constantly flying to his clearly improvised ponytail, tugging at strands that didn’t need tugging and tightening strands that didn’t need tightening.
He looked uncomfortable and very cute and - yup, he had been right - sexy.
Akira smiled at the sight.
“You know, you might want to keep your fingers out of it, you’re making it worse.”
Akechi’s eyes widened.
“Yeah, you might be right,” Sojiro sighed from the kitchen. “Curry, I can do, but I’m genuinely not sure about this cake. I just hope she’ll like it.”
“She’ll love it,” Akira replied, having no idea what they were talking about, yet smirking as he stepped behind Sojiro to gently pry his hands away from what looked like an excellent mess of a cake.
So, he hadn’t exactly forgotten Futaba’s graduation party, he’d just been distracted by the ghost in his corner, looking really distracting with those loose, honey-coloured strands of hair, falling into his face and framing it beautifully, the hard jawline exposed like he’d never seen it before, creamy-white neck so easily accessible…
Well, he’d probably kiss right through it and that’d just ruin the moment.
All the Phantom Thieves had managed to gather for the occasion (even the honorary member/traitor/honorary member again/ghost one), despite their busy schedules, surrounding Futaba with love and eating her messy cake.
Akira felt soft, pride for his little sister warming his heart, and so he took a second slice of cake, got up, “forgot” it on the counter and pretended not to notice when the plate was empty a bit later.
Pretended not to notice how cute Akechi looked when he hastily stuffed his face with cake, eating the sugar-coated side first, in fear that it’d be taken away from him again.
“You know,” Futaba asked him that same evening, after everyone else had gone. “Sometimes I see you staring into nothing and I wonder what you’re looking at when you think we can’t see you.”
Akechi, Akira thought.
He didn’t reply.
Futaba sighed.
“I know you’re not fine, you know? You can talk to me. If you want.”
He appreciated it. He truly did. It was rather difficult though, to make her believe that after all the pain and grief and loneliness, he genuinely, truly, honestly was fine now.
“I miss him every day he’s not here,” he says instead. It’s true enough - Though there aren’t any days he’s not here anymore, luckily.
Futaba gave him a sad smile.
“I know.”
Akechi was sitting in the booth behind them, face between both hands, elbows on the table, and sulked.
And so the weeks went by.
Akira had, at some point, well and truly missed the right time to tell Akechi that he was, in fact, not all alone in the world and at this point, the longer he waited, the worse he felt about doing it.
Akechi had, at some point, well and truly missed the right time to go home and had instead started curling up on his sofa at nights, staring at the polster and mumbling in his sleep.
Akechi was there when he worked for Sojiro, making snide commentary about the customers, drinking his coffee when he thought he didn’t see and watching TV.
Akechi was also there when Akira sat outside, enjoying the warm summer air as he sat on the step leading to the backstreets, right beside him to stare into nothing with him.
“I never would’ve thought coming here would change my life like this.” Akira said, to no one, because if Akechi could do constant talks to himself, why shouldn’t he be allowed to?
“I never would’ve thought you coming into my life would make me question everything I am and worked for,” Akechi admitted into the quiet evening.
Akira quickly stole a side-glance towards him. He looked determined, but in a serene way. As if he’d made his peace with it. Resigned himself to it.
They sat for a while like that, in silence, and it was nice. It was. It was like being together, normally, if he didn’t think too much.
He really should’ve told him ages ago. He really, really had to tell him.
When Akira got up, he closed the door very slowly so Akechi has enough time to slip in. They walked up shortly behind one another, Akira leading, and went to sleep at the same time. It was domestic and peaceful and working and they did say to never change a running system, didn’t they?
He ran late for university on his first morning back. Tired, dazed, panicked, he rummaged through his belongings.
“Glasses,” he muttered, still sleepy, his eyes burning, eye-lids heavy, vision blurred. “Glasses. Come on.”
“You’re ridiculous,” Akechi commented, clearly not happy about having been woken up this early. “You don’t even need them. You’ll be late for fake glasses. Do you take your education seriously at all?”
“I hate being late!” Akira called out, throwing a jacket into the air in hopes to find the damned pair of glasses underneath. Nothing. Well, some old crackers Morgana had forgotten. Gross. “Everyone stares when you come in late, it’s like I’m the main attraction in a freak show. And it somehow happens to me more often than to most!”
“Don’t know how it can, with that damned cat, to be honest,” Akechi muttered. He sounded just as sleepy as he felt.
He brushed past Akira, finding his glasses underneath a pile of empty chips packages and held it out to him with a roll of his eyes, not bothering to free it of the crumbs sticking to the glass.
Akira took it.
“Thanks.”
He put them on his nose, grimaced, took them off again to rub them clean with his shirt, then froze.
Opposite him, Akechi froze too.
Whoops.
“Well,” Akira finally said after a long-stretched, loaded silence, voice high and almost hysterical. “I best be going. Can’t be late for my first day after all.”
He practically flew down the stairs, but Akechi was right behind him, snarling.
“Oh no, you don’t, don’t you dare- ”
“I have to take my education seriously, remember?” Akira croaked, ripping open the door to Leblanc and slamming it shut right in front of Akechi, giving himself a tiny head start.
He was a good runner. He could totally outrun a ghost.
He could not outrun a ghost.
“You think you can hide from me in here?” Akechi had gotten out his fake smile and polite tone of voice again and Akira knew, by now, that this was a sign that he was in serious trouble. “No one else can hear me. No one else can see me. There’s no place you’re safe from me.”
Akira hadn’t so much wanted to hide, as he had wanted to escape, when he stepped onto the full train.
He rolled his eyes, pulled out his phone and put it to his ear, pretending to speak to a (very aggressive and persistent) caller.
“I cannot really talk right now,” he hissed.
“I do not care. Do I look like I care?”
“No, you look like a dog with rabies.”
Akechi snarled, all teeth and rage, further proving his point.
“You do not want to insult me right now! You could see me the entire time, couldn’t you?”
“I can always see you,” Akira replied, smiling sweetly at the confused look the woman next to him gave him. “In a non-stalkery way.”
The woman turned away.
Akira’s phone rang and he quickly dropped it, blushing slightly as he rejected the call and set his phone on mute.
The woman was looking away pointedly now.
“You had me believe I was alone! When I wasn’t ! You… you…”
“I left you coffee,” Akira offered. “All the time. And curry. And cake.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Akechi asked in a tone that clearly indicated that a lot of people were about to be very surprised when they saw Akira drop dead in the foreseeable next minutes, for absolutely no visible reason. “Do you have any idea what this existence is… like for me? How lonely it is? How desperate I am for… for anything at all? How often I have considered throwing myself in front of a train just to end it?”
“I’m sorry-”
“Oh, you’re sorry. How convenient . That makes it alright, I’m sure. You know, the only reason I’m still here is that I wasn’t sure. I just wasn’t sure another death would end it or just throw me back in here, just the way I left. I wanted to keep that one hope. That one day, there was a way out. I didn’t want to lose that hope, Akira.”
“Oh, first name basis, okay,” Akira replied, blushing.
“Is that really what you decided to say right now? I’ll give you a second attempt before I tear your throat out. I’m generous like that.”
“Will you let me speak, then?” Akira sighed. “I was trying to tell you before. I am sorry. I never meant for it to… to escalate. I wanted to tease you a little, then tell you. And then I just kinda… missed the right time and I got scared that you’d… well… react like this.”
“Oh, the noble leader of the Phantom Thieves. His true, selfless motives, finally revealed. I feel so much better.”
“I didn’t mean to-”
“You didn’t mean to what? Make me feel utterly alone in the world?”
Akechi was trembling, his hands clenched to fists, letting himself stumble through the driving train, bumping into passengers who didn’t acknowledge his existence.
Akira stepped closer, feeling his heart cramp up painfully (he had messed up, he had messed up big time) and grabbed his wrist, acting on an instinct, a whim to hold him steady. He had wrapped one arm around the bar to keep himself balanced, the other outstretched to Akechi and he….
He grasped a solid wrist. Soft skin beneath his fingertips. The seam of (pointless!) leather gloves brushing against them.
Akechi blinked. Akira stared dumbfoundedly at his hand around his wrist. People were looking at him in open discomfort.
“You… can touch me?”
“It… looks that way.”
For a moment, none of them said a word. They looked at each other in stunned silence.
“Get off this train,” Akechi finally pressed out. “Now.”
Akira slipped out the door as soon as the next stop came up, trembling, his hand still wrapped around Akechi’s wrist. He dragged him with him, out of the station, his thumb running soothing circles over his skin without him even noticing, without him actively thinking about anything but the urgency to be alone with Akechi, now, soon, quick .
They stumbled out into freedom, left the strange streets (where the hell were they even?) behind to find a little park, mostly abandoned at this early time, university forgotten as they let themselves fall onto the grass.
Akechi didn’t hesitate for a second, threw himself into Akira’s arms, lips finding his and smashing against him. He could feel his teeth collide painfully with Akechi’s and didn’t care. Just raked his fingers through his soft hair, pulling him closer, pulling him in, kissing him as if his life depended on it (it did) and Akechi moaned at the contact, leaned in and grew almost soft, pliant underneath it. Just for a moment, of course, but it was nice. Nice, if it wasn’t serving as a stinging reminder for Akira just how touch-deprived his ghost-boyfriend was (They were boyfriends now, right? They kissed! Angry boyfriends… but still. That had to count for something).
“I can’t believe it,” Akechi sounded close to hysterical, lying in his arms, touching him again and again, gloves long forgotten, lying in the grass, as he let his hands wander up and down his sides, his chest, wrapped silky, black locks around his fingers, then let them go again with experimental tugs, took his glasses off, put them on again. He kissed his neck, left a mark and was obviously delighted at the sight.
“It’s there, it’s real, I left a mark. I left a mark !”
“Of course you did,” Akira replied, smiling, because there was never any chance of him not being marked by Akechi, physically or not.
“I still haven’t forgiven you,” he said, gaze darkening. “But this is good, this is too good.”
“That’s okay,” Akira whispered, feeling a mix of pain and happiness well up inside of him, ready to spill over. “I haven’t forgiven you yet, either.”
That seemed to pull him back to the ground, seemed to tear through his cloud of giddiness and Akira saw understanding bloom on Akechi’s face. Always quick to catch on, his detective.
“Maybe… we could consider it an even?” he asked, tentatively. Unsure. Scared, Akira realised, scared at the very suggestion.
Akira took his face between both hands and smiled.
“I think I could do that.”
“So you’re saying… he’s sitting right there?” Ann asked, doubt clearly audible in her voice.
Akira nodded, grinning from one ear to another, his fingers intertwined to Goro, who was sitting next to him, looking annoyed.
He didn’t let him go much, these days. He was constantly next to him, touching him, unnoticed by anyone. His arms slid around his waist in the most distracting of ways whenever he tried to work.
His lips were on his neck when he tried to focus on his studies.
His hands running through his hair when he was trying to sleep, with Morgana contentedly purring on top of him.
Goro loved the little touches too much - Craved the constant reminders that he was alive, that he was perceived.
Akira loved them too.
Makoto was staring at his hand, then back to the spot where Goro was sitting, frowning deeply, then back to Akira’s face. There was a mix of concern and pity on her face.
“Are you sure you’re alright? I know you say that but… I mean…”
“Yes this is all… rather unconventional,” Yusuke tentatively agreed, which, oh boy, if Yusuke was the one to talk about ‘unconventional’, Akira had to admit to himself his chances of being believed were looking very slim indeed.
“I believe it,” Futaba mumbled under her breath. Everyone turned towards her and she shrugged, looking a bit self-conscious at the sudden attention. “I mean, you know how I have this place wired and all? I saw… things. Like cake disappearing from a plate. It was kinda creepy. I figured I’d either be going crazy or the place was haunted. Though I had hoped for a cooler ghost,” she added with a grimace.
Goro puffed up like a peacock. A peacock in an argyle sweater vest.
“Excuse me? I’m plenty cool!”
“You just used the word ‘plenty’”, Akira replied, a lovey-dovey smile on his lips.
Futaba cackled.
“He just tried to insist that he’s cool, didn’t he? What a nerd.”
“You’re a nerd, too,” Ryuji reminded her.
“Yeah,” Futaba replied. “But I’m a cool nerd.”
Goro growled. “That’s some petty double standards bullshit, I just want to point that out.”
“So… This is for real?” Ryuji finally asked, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “He’s really… here and no one but you can see him?”
“I still… am not sure about this,” Makoto sighed.
Goro reached out, lifted the glass of water in front of him and chucked it into her face.
Except for Makoto’s yelp, everyone else fell utterly silent for a moment, staring at the water dripping down her brown hair.
“Wanted to do that for ages,” Goro said smugly.
“It could have to do with Cognition,” Morgana suggested two months later, when Akira had picked him up and gently shifted to the side of his body on which Goro was not currently resting his head on.
“Everything does for this cat. I feel like ‘Cognition’ is the only word he knows sometimes,” Goro growled.
“He’s been right before,” Akira reminded him gently, pressing a kiss to the nape of his neck to cheer him up. He always got a bit cranky after too long of them not touching. He got almost always better beneath his lips, though, lightening up like a whole firework show. It was intoxicating, having that much control over someone’s mood. He used it for good, though. Most of the time.
Goro sighed happily.
“Ew,” Morgana made. “Friendly reminder that I can still see your parts of this, so maybe behave, And of course! I’m right all the time! … I’m not sure about this, though. I’ve never heard of anything like this.”
“He called you a cat,” Akira informed him pettily.
Goro bit his shoulder in retaliation, which, Akira decided, wasn’t the worst thing to ever happen to him.
“Tell him I don’t care. I don’t care what’s it got to do with. I’ve got all I need.”
Akira let his fingers run through his soft hair, never able to get enough of it and judging by Goro’s mewling sounds, neither could he. He’d gotten much more open about showing affection now that no one else could see or hear him.
It was kind of cute.
“Are you sure?” he asked. “It’s a lot, surely?”
“No one ever cared for me,” Goro replied quietly. “No one but you. And now no one will ever have to. And I won’t be disappointed again. It’s fine. It’s better this way.”
Akira kissed his forehead lazily. “My friends - our friends - care. And we’ll find a way to fix this. Together. And then you can still decide if you want to take it. Okay?”
“Okay.”
They lay in silence for a while.
“Do they really? Do you think?”
Akira hummed sleepily.
“Even Makoto?”
Oh hell no.
“Yeah. Even Makoto. Go to sleep, Goro.”
“You’re a miserable liar.”
“Sure I am, pancake boy.”
Goro sat up, one elbow pointedly poking into his chest, just to glare at him.
“I hate you.”
“Now, who’s the miserable liar?”
They went to sleep together, all intertwined and comfortable and woke up the same way (Though Goro did wake up with cat hair in his mouth a lot of times and they tried not to talk about how it got there - Morgana moved a lot in his sleep).
And Akira didn’t doubt for a single second that they would continue to do so, forever and he didn’t doubt for a single second that one day, they’d wake up with a whole world opening up to Goro Akechi again and they’d be alright.
Everything would be alright.
Until then, he didn’t mind having his Finally-Boyfriend all for himself.