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Akira doesn’t know what to do with his last day in Tokyo. He doesn’t have a concrete plan either way, but he thinks he should do something special. He knows there are places he should visit before he leaves and people he should talk to. Sojiro had mentioned the other day that some sort of goodbye would probably be good for him.
But when he gets up that morning, he doesn’t feel good. He doesn’t even feel okay. Morgana bats at his face as he refuses to get up for the third time, curling more under the blankets and just reaching up to shield his face.
Morgana is a lot of things, and there’s a lot he can and has done for Akira. But there’s no way he can drag Akira out of bed on a day like this.
“Akira! You can’t sleep until we have to leave, this is our last day here!”
Akira’s body feels heavy. It’s an infinite amount of more effort he’d need to put forth just to lift his limbs right now. He feels like he can’t possibly even attempt to get up, not when the numbness of sleep is beckoning him back. He doesn’t have to think when he’s sleeping. He doesn’t have to hurt when he’s asleep, that part only comes after he wakes up.
Sometimes he dreams about Goro when he sleeps, and that’s better than nothing. Even if they’re nightmares.
At least his subconscious can remind him what his face looked like, what his voice sounded like calling his name. Even if that voice is tinged with pain or fury or fear in most of his dreams. It’s still better than nothing, it’s still better than looking at old pictures of the Detective Prince and feeling worse.
Akira wonders which side of him will win today. There is this very quiet drive in him still determined to do everything there is to do before it’s too late. That part wants to go everywhere, say goodbye to the city that did so much for him. It’s the part that is currently buried deep inside him, unreachable beyond the exhaustion he feels. He’s unable to so much as shift under that heavy weight.
He’s tired.
“Akira!”
Akira had read a lot about grief, about what he’s feeling. The entire situation was far too complicated for him to put a name to it, and all he’s left with is the symptoms of grief and trying to sort of which ones he has. Either he’s grieving or he’s going crazy.
Longing.
Yes. Definitely. That was the first feeling he developed, and the one he feels most often. The one that fills him up to the brim with regret that makes his mouth taste sour.
Akira drags himself out of bed even though everything in him protests the movement. Morgana is already running downstairs ahead of him like Akira has the energy to keep up. Like Akira has any energy.
He longs so much it feels like his heart is being ripped from his body. Like his heart has been left behind somewhere in billiards and chess and making a brew of coffee no one else has ever liked. Moving forward rips him apart a little more with each step.
He slides into a booth since he can’t even bear to look at the bar.
Sojiro places coffee and curry in front of him in less than a moment, like it had been waiting for him the whole time. It probably was. Sojiro has been the only reason Akira hasn’t starved yet, he has been since the beginning.
Akira eats slowly.
Loss of appetite.
Surely, he knows that one. He can’t finish his whole plate, not even close. He doesn’t eat much most days, his appetite has never been large and he’s always gotten full quickly.
It’s gotten worse. So much worse. He noticed that quickly, too.
Akira feels like there’s a hole in his stomach. One bite makes him feel sick.
Sojiro just takes the plate when he pushes it away and doesn’t mention it. That’s fine, Akira really doesn’t feel like talking much right now.
Sojiro replaces the empty spot in front of Akira with the chess board, a standing memorial.
Crying. Sadness. Despair.
He knows those ones, easily. They’re torn him apart before, and they will again. They do now.
Akira cries. He feels that hole open up in his heart that leaves him empty. That’s another one. Emptiness.
It was never reset after the last game he played with Goro. It had ended with his win, he can still see the black King standing tall although the white King had been knocked over.
Akira takes the white piece in his hand and grips it so tightly the edges dig painfully into his palm. He brings it to press against his forehead, trying to force the tears to stop please stop.
Sojiro’s hand rubs against his back, and Morgana is curled up in his lap and here it is, here's something else to remember Goro by. Another thing to cling to in hopes he’ll come back. A glove to return, a chess rematch. Things that are useless to think about.
He has so many people scattered around the entire city to say goodbye to.
Loneliness.
That one is common too. Most days, Akira just longs, he yearns. He still feels alone, even though he still has so many people. He saved the world, so he still has everyone else. Everyone except for Goro, of course.
“Keep it, kid. You...you two were the only ones who had touched it in years.”
Akira feels the distress and despair cling onto him and start to pull him under. Pushing his head underwater, trying to drown him in the grief all over again like those first few days. Those first few days, Akira thought he was going to die. He didn’t know how, but he was positive that much pain could only end in death.
Sojiro squeezes his shoulders, and he’s barely keeping his head above water but he looks over and smiles a little. He can still tread water for a while yet.
“You don’t have to go anywhere today,” Sojiro tells him.
“I’m going to,” he chokes out.
“Kid, I wish you were kinder to yourself.”
Akira commits the position of the pieces on the board to memory and puts them away. He wipes the board so he can close the whole thing up, it folding neatly into a briefcase.
Withdrawal.
“I’m alright,” he lies. “I’ll be out for a bit.”
Sojiro doesn’t argue. He did when Akira first came back, but he’s long since stopped trying to get through the thick walls Akira crafted while he was in police custody. It’s too late for that now.
Goro was always good at blasting through them, but Akira doesn’t need to worry about that anymore.
Preoccupation with thoughts of the loved one.
There is a living Goro left, nestled in each corner of Akira’s mind. He is big enough to press to his every edge, to fill him out in all the places he’s empty and leave little reminders like Akira would ever forget. Akira would never forget, so the reminders just leave him feeling raw and gross.
He realizes the mug Sojiro gave him is the one Goro used to insist on using. It has the chip in the handle and everything.
Akira considers smashing it, then just chugs the rest of his coffee and goes upstairs to get changed.
Most of his clothes are packed up, but for the last time he changes into his day clothes and puts his worn pajamas into the clothes box.
It’s the only box he hasn’t sent home yet, Sojiro will ship it out after Akira leaves.
He’d needed more boxes this time, for all the trinkets he’d collected and the things he’d bought for himself and...
Akira had gained a lot coming here, and he’d still managed to lose so much of it.
Fatigue.
That’s a good one, that’s a big one. Akira is so tired all the time. He doesn’t want to go. He doesn’t want to go at all, ever, and especially today he wants to curl up in bed and sleep again.
He wants to stay here. He wants Sojiro to make him full plates of curry every morning until he can finish his plate. He wants Morgana to force him out of bed every morning until he can do it on his own again. He just doesn’t want...to go back.
He tells Morgana to stay, slings his bag over his shoulder, and sets out to say his goodbyes.
He does it numbly. He accepts trinkets and words and sympathies and he promises to keep in contact.
Of course he will, he doesn’t have anything or anyone back where he’s going.
Hopelessness.
Honestly. What is Akira going to do?
It’s dark when he passes the jazz club, and he almost doesn’t stop. Almost.
But the Goro who lives in him pounds insistently at his skull until he turns and walks up. It’s fine, because he knows he’d rather have this than nothing. If Goro lives on in his mind, at least that’s something. At least Akira can hold onto another part of him that way.
And then the jazz club owner tells him, in no uncertain terms, that he was special. Goro never brought anyone here aside from him.
The chess piece is wrapped up in Goro’s glove in his pocket, and he squeezes it tightly as he promises to tell Goro to come back the next time he sees him.
What a cruel joke.
Sojiro has already shipped off his last box when he gets back to Leblanc, and they stand there in the cafe together and Akira has to try very hard not to cry.
“Take care, kid. You don’t forget to come visit now, alright?”
Akira wants to stay. He wants to ask Sojiro if he can just figure it out, if they can figure out a way for him to stay because he doesn’t know how to do this on his own again.
He bites his tongue and nods, accepting the hair ruffle and the smile with no indication he’s anything but perfectly fine.
And then he lets his friends drive him to the train station, and he lets Maruki drive him the rest of the way when that doesn’t pan out. They’re lively, clearly not happy to see him leaving but still entirely themselves.
He stays quiet the whole time, the chess set handle clutched in both of his hands and settled in his lap.
Akira really wishes he knew who he was anymore.
Their chess set is all he has to cling onto right now, so he clings as hard as he can and feels like he’s standing on ground that’s crumbling beneath him. Nothing is solid, everything is falling down around him and he knew the sky would hurt when it fell but he was sure he’d be more ready for it than this.
In the end, nobody sees Akira onto the train. Even Morgana is sound asleep in his bag by the time he has to leave.
He takes his own breath, he makes sure Morgana is comfortable, and he boards.
Meaninglessness.
That’s a new one, but still fairly obvious.
Akira doesn’t have direction anymore. He used to have one, as shaky and temporary as it was. He would go to school and get good grades and that was all that was expected of him. It was a small town, that’s all he needed to do. Sometimes he went out, but...he didn’t have lots of friends anyway and he was just fine on his own. He always thrived on his own, before all of this.
Things changed a lot in Tokyo, but right now all Akira wants to do is sleep forever. He doesn’t have any other answer for how aimless he feels. If he just sleeps, he can avoid it. He thinks avoidance is one.
Insomnia .
That one has seized his life. Usually sleep evades him now. He will sit up for hours, paralyzed by guilt, denial, anger, disbelief, confusion and disorganization, grief.
He won’t sleep. When he does sleep, he’ll dream of Goro and be woken up after each dream to agonize over it.
Last night he’d had one nightmare about Goro, about that door...and he’d been too scared to close his eyes again. Maybe that’s why today has exhausted him so thoroughly, or maybe the grief is doing that all on it’s own.
Either way, that exhaustion is catching up to him. He curls his fingers around the items in his pocket and keeps the chess set tucked close to him as his eyes slowly shut.
If he’s lucky, he won’t wake up in time and have to delay his trip back. If he’s really lucky, he won’t wake up at all.
He’s drifted off in just a moment.
-
The first step to disappearing is to cut off all social connections.
Goro sits in the bed he wakes up in, unfamiliar as it all is, and he deletes every single one of his contacts. It’s his first instinct, the first thing he knows he needs to do. This is his personal phone, so it’s fine. His burner phone needs to go as soon as he gets his hands on it, though.
He memorized Akira’s number a long time ago, so maybe it doesn’t really count, but he deletes his too even though his hand shakes the whole time he does.
He deletes all of his social media, he gets rid of each of his profiles and makes note to try and get rid of all mentions of him as well. He can’t exist online anymore, the longer he’s out of sight the better. Public cognition will forget him soon enough.
Goro leaves before anyone notices he’s awake, a ghost drifting out without a second thought. It won’t matter in the long run, it’s not like anyone will be looking for him.
The second step to disappearing is to stop feeling.
This step Goro is still working on. He’s certainly trying his best, but every time he recites Akira’s number in his head to make sure he remembers it...he knows he’s failed. He knows he’s still holding on.
Other than Akira, he thinks he only has spite left. That’s good enough for now. He’s working on it.
The third step to any good disappearing act is to stop talking.
Goro takes a note from Akira’s book and he listens instead. He watches carefully, quiets everything about him to observe rather than put himself in the middle. He seamlessly melts into the background, with not a second look tossed his way the majority of the time. He keeps his head down and his mouth shut.
He feels invisible, and wonders if that’s how Akira felt too.
The fourth step to a quiet disappearance is to stop smiling.
Stop showing any expressions, no matter what storm is swirling up inside. Because that pulls attention, and people who disappear don’t get attention. People who disappear are forgotten easily.
Akira’s face was more often than not neutral. It settled on this odd look that made it hard to tell either way what he could possibly be thinking or feeling.
Goro tries to replicate it and does decently.
The fifth step to disappearing forever is to burn your old self to the ground. Whether it’s to rise again from the ashes or be left as just ashes.
To kill the previous self is how to finally disappear completely.
Goro hasn’t yet executed his fifth step, because he’s currently standing in the middle of the subway watching Akira board the train by himself.
He turns around and walks away. He needs to turn around and walk away. He’s over this, he’s disappearing, nobody ever needs to see him as he is again.
Nobody sees Akira off.
And Akira was holding a briefcase, that must be a mystery worth solving. There are so many more things worth knowing about Akira, more things to study so Goro can better go through his five step plan. It’s fine.
Goro will just follow him for a little while.
Goro steps onto the train, into a different compartment. They’re already moving by the time Goro remembers this is a bad idea and counterintuitive to his five step plan to disappear forever.
He figures he may as well put his plan to the test here. He’ll walk through Akira’s compartment, that’s all. A pass through.
He won’t look or stop, he’ll just move and see if he’s caught. He’s confident he won’t be. He should be invisible enough by now that even Akira won’t be able to spot him.
He’s not that confident.
He does it anyway, before he can stop himself. He moves too quickly for his own brain to rationalize.
Because he only got to see Akira for a few seconds. That’s not fair.
He seemed different, Goro wants to see how he’s changed in the short time it’s been since he saw him. His hair seemed longer, he looked tired. He looked nothing like how Goro remembers him, and he wants to know why.
The briefcase was out of place as well.
Goro pretends it isn’t an excuse as he moves through to the next compartment, to Akira’s. This isn’t an excuse, this is just logical.
His plan crumbles in the next five seconds.
The first second, Goro steps in. He crosses the threshold easily and quickly, only regretting it after he’s too committed.
The second, the compartment is empty aside from Akira. It is deserted, not a single other soul is there to blend in with and Goro still doesn’t know how to be invisible all the time.
The third, the briefcase is clutched tight to his chest. He’s nearly hugging it with how close he’s holding it, no way can Goro simply walk up and grab it.
The fourth, his glasses are tucked into his shirt. Hanging limply, because of course they would be since...
The fifth, he’s fast asleep.
Goro sighs out a breath that he won’t call fond and sits next to Akira. He slowly extracts the briefcase from his arms, although he’s holding onto it tightly and desperately. He lets go when Goro soothes a hand over his arm.
He flicks it open, then nearly drops it when he realizes it’s not a briefcase. It’s just the case for a chess set. Their chess set.
Akira had put it away haphazardly, but there’s no mistaking it.
The white King piece is missing, he notices it immediately. Did Akira leave it, lose it? Did Goro lose it? Certainly not, because he remembers losing the game last time.
He specifically remembers the way Akira had knocked his King over with that smug look, with the stupid way he would always say, “Checkmate.” like he’d won the world.
Goro is ready to get up and take it with him, and then that plan crumbles in another five seconds.
One, the train jostles them and Goro hears something clatter on the seat between them.
Two, he looks down and grabs blindly before his hand closes around the missing chess piece. Fallen from Akira’s pocket.
Three, Goro is putting the King back and closing the set when he pauses. He reaches into Akira’s pocket and pulls out his glove as well.
Four, Goro realizes he’s never going to be able to disappear because there’s no way Akira will ever just let go of him.
Five, Akira’s head lolls to the side.
It looks uncomfortable, so Goro presses an inch closer and adjusts him so that his head rests on Goro’s shoulder instead. The height Goro has on him leaves his neck at a better angle. Akira curls up against his side, pressing his cheek against the side of his arm and letting out a quiet, but content breath.
Goro’s hands have sat bare since he came to, but he slips his glove back on over his hand and leans back for the ride.
He isn’t sure where they’re going, but he’s sure it’s fine. Akira can’t be asleep for too long, Goro seems to remember him being awake late and up early.
The train moves familiarly. Their compartment stays empty, and Akira stays asleep for a while. He keeps shifting against him, constantly getting closer even when Goro is sure he can’t possibly. He’s getting in more and more contorted positions, it’s really rather amusing.
Goro just lets him sleep, even when he starts to worry about how far away their destination is considering not a single time did he ever ask Akira where his hometown was. Or maybe he did, and Akira just brushed it off.
Akira was always good at blending in like that, dismissing questions pointed at himself while taking in everything from everyone else.
That’s always how things were. Akira hid behind everything he could and held everything he was out of reach to the end.
Goro modeled his disappearing plan after what he observed from Akira, after all.
Goro plucks Akira’s glasses from his shirt and tucks them safely into his own pocket.
Akira only blinks awake as the sun is setting. Goro feels him shift, and simply stays put and lets him move.
“Sorry,” he mutters, cutting into a yawn. “I didn’t mean...to. Fall asleep on you. Um, excuse me?”
Goro looks over, and he watches. He doesn’t rush to say anything as Akira glances between the briefcase in his lap and the glove pulled over his hand.
Goro watches and just manages to smile when Akira pinches himself.
“I’m real,” Goro says before he asks. “Save those stupid questions, please. What’s your stop?”
“I’ll...we have time still. I don’t understand. What? How? When? I’m so confused.”
Goro feels something like relief as Akira frets over him, worrying and desperate as he checks him over and over. It’s not quite relief, but he doesn’t know what else to call the feeling.
“Does it matter?”
“Not really. I’m...am I dead?”
“You’re not dead,” Goro assures him.
Akira looks him up and down again, and he just smiles. He smiles so widely it yanks his eyes closed, and Goro watches little tears get squeezed out and down his cheeks.
Something about it makes him ache.
“You’re not dead,” Akira murmurs.
“I’m not.”
Akira buries his face in his hands, and Goro feels a little disappointed. Something in him wants to see Akira cry, wants to see how that emotion looks on him.
Akira guards everything so close, it makes Goro want to see it more. See parts of Akira he wouldn’t share with anyone else.
“Why’d you disappear then? You just...you just left and you didn’t say anything. I thought you were gone,” Akira says, still pressed very close.
Goro wasn’t sure if he was going to stay alive, at first. He didn’t know what the aftershocks of Shido’s arrest would be, he wasn’t sure what would happen to him or what he would do.
He didn’t want Akira to know he was alive in case that changed quickly. He didn’t want to make Akira lose him for a third time, that just...that would be too cruel.
He didn’t want to drag Akira into his mess, because being in simple proximity to him would lead to him realizing and shouldering his way into the situation by force.
That’s how Akira is.
And Goro wanted to keep him away from this. He wanted to disappear quietly and never have to make Akira deal with him again. It was for the best, since Goro constantly attracts danger and destruction. He just wanted Akira safe, safe and away from all of this.
Clearly, that hurt Akira more than he thought it would.
Akira has always been and always will be much too good for Goro.
Morgana pokes his head out of Akira’s bag, makes eye contact with Goro, and ducks back inside.
Goro starts laughing, and it makes Akira push at his shoulder and demand an answer but he can’t stop.
He hasn’t laughed so genuinely is as long as he can remember, but he feels so...light. He feels free. He doesn’t know if he’s ever felt this way, but it feels so good. He doesn’t know how he was ever capable of just...letting Akira go.
Relief sticks in his throat, but he still clears it just so he can answer Akira’s question. He owes him that much. He owes Akira so much, owes him everything.
Goro wants to give him everything.
“To be entirely transparent, I needed some time. There were things I had to do first, things I didn’t want you to be a part of. I guess I underestimated how much you’d miss me.”
“You’re an asshole,” Akira tells him.
“I know.”
“I hate you.”
“Of course, we’re still rivals right?”
Akira looks up at him, tears clinging to those long eyelashes. He doesn’t look amused by Goro, but he just sniffs and looks away.
He seems a bit angry, to Goro’s delight. More emotions, he’s going to be spoiled at this rate.
“I guess,” he mutters.
“Am I not a worthy rival anymore? I won’t be too hurt if you’ve found a better one.”
Akira wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. He blinks until his eyes look clear again.
“You’re stupid,” Akira claims.
“Well that’s rather mean. I think I’m quite clever.”
“You’re an idiot.”
“Then you’re an imbecile,” Goro scoffs. “And you’re being a little shit.”
Akira smiles a little, the quirk appearing at the corner of his mouth before melting away.
“Was the flirting real?” Akira asks, bluntly.
“What flirting?”
“With me, obviously.” Akira rolls his eyes. “I just want to know now.”
Akira is really coming out with brutal honesty.
Goro was almost hoping he wouldn’t ask something like this, wishful thinking that this was something they could just let go. The game Goro played with him to make it easier to get close to him, it makes Goro sick to think about.
“Why don’t we just...take things slow? To tell you the truth, it was real, but I think we both need some time. Now probably isn’t the best time for anything.”
“Time is bullshit. Don’t give me that when you’ve disappeared on me twice now. I’m not leaving anything unsaid ever again, so don’t pretend like we can just put that behind us. You aren’t that mature, and neither am I.”
Akira’s eyes are blazing. Beautiful, a pure hot fire that sears itself into Goro’s heart and burns .
“When’s your stop, Akira?”
“Inaba.”
“We’ll talk more when we get there.”
“We?”
Goro glances at the setting sun. It’s almost below the horizon now, and the entire inside of the train is lit up orange. It’s making Akira’s eyes seem all the darker for it.
“Well. I might as well come with you at this point,” Goro sighs.
“You’ll stay?” Akira asks.
It’s quiet and vulnerable. Goro could break Akira once and for all simply by saying no here. It would be easy, it would be quick, and Goro would hardly get his hands dirty.
“Of course,” he answers.
“Good.” Akira nods. “That’s...good.”
He settles back, then he looks at Goro. He kisses him, then.
For just a second, the shortest thing like that’s just casual for them. Their lips brush one another’s, slotting together like they were always meant to be that way. Akira tastes like coffee and curry, like home.
It feels natural.
It makes Goro feel like he’s going to short circuit. He feels so hot he’s worried he’s dying. He thinks Akira has stolen all of his breath in a few seconds.
It feels like the way they were always meant to be.
Akira pulls back and rests back against his shoulder. Comfortably, with effort on both their parts, they slot together this way too. It’s comfortable and warm, Goro almost worries he might fall asleep this way too.
“We still have a long way to go,” Akira yawns.
Before Inaba, he’s trying to say.
Goro thinks it applies to more than that. Goro thinks it applies to more than Akira’s tired brain can really think about right now.
“Get some rest,” Goro tells him. “I’ll wake you when we’re closer, don’t worry.”