Chapter Text
‘This isn’t real,’ Goro told himself, even as Akira’s lips were hot on his, the leader of the Phantom Thieves having pressed him against Leblanc’s counter with a familiar desperation after Maruki had given his ultimatum. Goro had been, and was still, unswayed and had known deep in his bitter heart that it never could be. The price was too high for what Maruki offered.
He had died months ago with a bitter, angry heart betrayed by himself more than the boy who had confessed with tears because he had thought he lost his chance so long ago.
The brilliant, forgiving, bitter idiot who was the only one Akechi had ever really fantasized about. How much of that was real though, and how much was Akira’s desperation?
Goro was here only as tribute, alive in Maruki’s actualized perfect world as a bribe, an afterthought but a tainted, twisted poisoned prize too good to pass up for the brilliant but flawed boy who had apparently challenged the God of Control itself to free the world once already from it’s twisted cognitions.
“Don’t you dare accept his stupid offer because of me,” Goro demanded, wrenching Akira’s head back by yanking on his hair and pulling him away though their breath still mingled.
“Give me tonight,” Akira demanded, his foolish heart plain in his dark eyes.
“It’s all a lie anyways,” Goro found himself scoffing, his hands tightening in curly black hair to what must have been a painful degree. Akira didn’t make a sound though, his gaze only sharpening on Goro in a way that made him want… well something.
“A fleeting dream,” Akira agreed, his hands on the counter, pinning Goro without holding him down. “Give it to me anyways,” he demanded, the playful decisive mannerisms he usually kept hidden outside of the Metaverse on full display, along with raw, familiar pain.
“Fine, but this changes nothing,” Goro conceded, pulling Akira in to close what little distance was between them. Perhaps he could let himself dream as well, just for one night.
Goro was certain it was a bad idea, but his convictions never wavered, and neither as far as he could tell did Akira as they ascended the final part of Maruki’s palace. They faced a fight like no other that Goro had ever felt, their power, Joker’s power, was more than enough to change the course of the world, to rival Maruki’s vision of perfection with a world that was free and beautiful in all of it’s imperfection.
The last thing Goro remembered was being crushed by the weight of the Phantom Thieves even as his heart was in his throat watching Akira’s last confrontation with Maruki.
Akechi didn’t want to die, he wanted to be there next to Joker forever, to have Akira’s unwavering brilliance aimed always at himself. For the first time he wanted all of the mundane little details he had given up on to pursue justice against Shido so long ago. Boring college courses and proving himself to the world on his own terms, mundane dates in insipid places made tolerable, even enjoyable, only because of who he was with. One person to see and understand Akechi Goro in a way that the adoring throngs of fans had never been able to satisfy. He was more than just the second coming of the ‘Detective Prince’, he was bitter and selfish and wanted it all for himself!
And then it was over
Reality crumbling around them
And Goro crumbling with it
Shattering
Breaking
Piece
By
Tiny
Piece
Into Nothing
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.
.
.
.
.
Struggling as he never had before to open his eyes amidst the wailing of hospital machinery, and the flurry of flustered nurses, a garble of words he couldn’t understand through the ocean in his head.
Was… was he alive?