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“Akechi, wait.”
Ren and Akechi stood in silence at Leblanc’s entrance. Tomorrow, they would take back the reality Dr. Maruki had stolen, and they would shatter the pleasant but untenable dream he’d created for them. The universe would fall back into its natural order.
Akechi would die again.
He dropped his hand from the door handle, and a bitter smile hung on his lips. “Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts already.”
Ren shook his head. “Of course not,” he said.
“Then we’re done here. There’s nothing left to talk about.” He went to take the handle again, but found that Ren had grabbed his hand.
“I don’t want to talk,” Ren said.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He still had plenty of questions to ask, like aren’t you scared? Is this really what you want? How can I possibly choose between you and your own autonomy? But he swallowed them down. There really was no point in speaking them aloud. Not now, with the end so close.
Akechi stared at him, but did not call his bluff. “I see. What do you want, then?” he asked.
The snow had begun to fall outside. Large flakes fell upon the ground, melting upon impact as they hit the pavement. Ren’s mouth ran dry, and he held on tightly to Akechi’s hand, as if he’d disappear into thin air too if he let go.
“One more night,” Ren said. “Please.”
His eyes softened. “Oh. Feeling sentimental, are we?” he teased, though his voice couldn’t carry the playful banter they usually shared.
Ren nodded.
“I suppose I can make time,” Akechi said. “After all, you’re helping me take down a rogue god tomorrow. The night is yours. What do you want to do?”
Truth be told, he’d do anything. One last game of billiards, a final duel in the Metaverse, an encore at the jazz bar – he would gladly do any of it and more if that’s what Akechi wanted, but he knew better than to say so. Akechi asked him what he wanted, so he wouldn’t accept some lukewarm response like anything you want to do. No. Tonight, more than anything, Akechi wanted his conviction.
Fine. Ren looked him in the eyes and gave him that conviction. “I just want you,” he said. To further prove his resolve, he drew Akechi’s hand in towards himself, brushing his lips across the top of his glove.
Akechi closed his eyes and sighed. “You can’t have me, Amamiya-kun. I died on that ship months ago. This isn’t our true reality.”
“I know,” Ren said quietly. “But it’s the reality we have right now.”
He frowned, but didn’t let go. “You know that this will only hurt you more in the end,” he said.
“Yes,” Ren said. “I hope it will.” After all, he was selfish enough to try to steal one more evening with him on borrowed time. If it made him harder to let go, then so be it. If the pain of loss could help him hold on to his memory just a little bit longer, he welcomed it. He would burn it into his skin if he could.
Akechi looked him over, like he was some sort of inscrutable puzzle. “Always full of surprises, aren’t you?” he murmured, idly stroking Ren’s thumb with his own. “I really couldn’t ask for a better rival.” He paused for a moment, then leaned in and kissed him hard on the mouth.
Ren almost laughed as their lips smashed together. Even in the privacy of the empty cafe, Akechi’s competitive streak burned strong… and God, it was contagious. He reciprocated in full force, pressing their bodies together against the glass door. Whether that competitive streak took the form of a trick shot, a perfect 300 on the dart board, or a triumphant blade to the throat, Akechi never took half measures. Ren could hardly believe that at one point, he actually managed to hide such intensity beneath that mild-mannered and logical Detective Prince exterior.
He knew, though, deep down, that this version of Akechi couldn’t exist. The real Akechi, whose vulnerability and anger lay trapped at the bottom of the ocean in a body that couldn’t escape Shido’s reach, never had the chance to grow into someone who could defy his master and forge his own path. How strange, Ren thought, that the one who kissed him now, who would no longer hide behind a mask or compromise his own ideals, would only be able to show his true form in a world where he himself could not exist.
For someone whose existence was fabricated, however, Akechi sure felt real. From the familiar aftertaste of black coffee on his tongue, to the smooth leather glove that cupped his jaw, his warmth and presence could have fooled him if he didn’t know the truth. Ren sighed and melted into his impossible body, breathing in the scent of him and searing the sensation of his touch into memory.
It was Akechi who finally broke the kiss. “Can we take this upstairs?” he asked, his voice raspy. A flush crept from the tips of his ears to his scarf, which his fingers were already fumbling to remove.
They took shelter in the privacy of Ren’s room, far from the cafe windows and the wandering eyes of Yongen Jaya. Ren didn’t even bother switching on the paltry light bulb in the rafters: the haze of streetlights filtering through the window blinds was more than enough for a couple of silhouettes moving together in the dark. At least, that’s what he told himself to make it sound more romantic.
Akechi laughed softly, as if he could read his thoughts. “Feeling shy, Amamiya-kun?” he said, teasing apart the buttons of his jacket and letting it fall to the floor.
“A little,” he admitted, shucking off his own coat. He tossed it onto the couch and started to unbutton his shirt, but his nerves started to get to him. He struggled with the buttons for a bit in his haste, but he was stopped by Akechi’s hand curling over his own.
“Relax,” Akechi said. “You have me all night, remember?”
“Right,” he said, but then he frowned. He wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that.
“Wait. I… have you? You’re not going through this out of some sense of obligation, are you?” he asked.
Akechi gripped his hand tight, his face suddenly dead serious. “I said I’m carving my own path in this world, didn’t I? I won’t do anything – not a damn thing – unless it’s my own decision. I’m not letting anyone manipulate me anymore. Not even you.” He closed the gap between them and kissed him again: this time it was slow, deliberate, smoldering. “You have me because I want you to have me. Nothing more, nothing less.” He shoved him, half-dressed, onto the bed and straddled his lap.
For a dead man dreamed up in Maruki’s idealized universe, Ren couldn’t ask for a more lifelike replica. He burned for him. He wrapped his arms around his torso and clawed at the back of his shirt, holding him tightly against his chest. He buried his head in his shoulder, taking in his scent, his breathing, his heartbeat. Real or not, the one he wanted most was here with him now, in mind and flesh and blood and bone, and he wouldn’t let him slip through his fingers again. Not without a proper sendoff, at least.
Akechi handled Ren’s body the same way he’d come to fight alongside him in the Metaverse: with no hesitation, only reckless abandon and raw instinct. And he wasn’t afraid to fight dirty, either: he pushed him down and pinned his wrists to the mattress, smirking triumphantly with his hair dangling in his face. He swooped in, licked a stripe across his collarbone, and bit hard into the flesh of his shoulder.
Ren groaned, but didn’t protest – after all, he had said he wanted it to hurt, didn’t he? – but that didn’t mean he couldn’t fight back. With a wild spark in his eye, he swung his hip and flipped Akechi onto his back, pinning him into place. After taking the upper hand, he smiled impishly and taunted him with a roll of his hips.
“Oh, it is on,” Akechi said, his lips curling into a wild grin.
They pushed and pulled at each other, gradually wrangling their way out of their clothes in the process. Before either of them realized it, they’d stripped each other bare, lying on top of the sheets in a sweaty tangle of limbs. Their breathless bouts of laughter gradually faded away into a calm silence, and they simply lied there together in the dark.
So this was it, then. He tried not to think about it, but Ren felt the gravity weighing down on him: this was the first time and the last time they could ever hold each other like this. They had less than 24 hours left in the universe together. Once they took Maruki down, that was the end of the line. This reality would come crumbling down, and Akechi would fade into the ether along with it. He held his hand now, knowing that in the coming days it would disappear like a plume of smoke. The tears he didn’t even realize were forming began to roll down his cheek.
“Ren,” Akechi whispered, wiping it away with his forefinger.
He blinked. Ren. He called him Ren. Not Amamiya-kun. Ren.
“Goro,” he whispered back. The name felt foreign on his tongue, but comfortable. Right. He might as well be Goro now, he thought. Neither of them had ever addressed each other by first name before, he realized bitterly. They’d spent so much time dancing around each other, wearing their masks, building up walls. And for what? One small moment of intimacy, one that was bound to end as soon as the morning came? It wasn’t fair.
“Stay with me,” Ren pleaded, in a moment of weakness.
“I’m right here,” Goro said.
That wasn’t what he meant, and he knew Goro knew that, but he was thankful that he pretended otherwise.
God, it hurt. Knowing it would hurt didn’t make it hurt any less. But for both their sakes, he swallowed it down. He could summon enough charm and bravado to make their last night memorable. He could play Joker for one more night.
Ren roamed his hands greedily over the surface of Goro’s skin, mapping his body like a palace. In the dim light he surveyed his unique features: from his soft and pliant hair, to the freckles that dotted his arms, to the satisfying way his waist tapered to his sharp hip bones. “May I?” he said coyly, drawing his hand lower towards the treasure that awaited him.
“Only if I can do the same,” Goro purred, sliding his own hand across Ren’s thigh.
They mirrored each other's movements, starting with a slow, exploratory touch.
Ren didn’t have much of a love life to speak of, with things like exams and learning to make curry and stealing hearts taking up the majority of his free time. He suspected that Goro was fairly inexperienced as well: his former life as a famous-detective-slash-assassin likely left little time for romance.
Thankfully, though, instinct picked up the slack where they lacked experience. Within minutes, they lied together, spent and panting, taking in the kind of afterglow that only came with the thrill of getting to know someone carnally for the first time.
“I love you,” Ren whispered, before he could stop himself.
Goro laced their fingers together. “Enough to let me go?” he said.
Ren nodded.
“Good.” He closed his eyes, curling up next to him. He muttered something under his breath, something that Ren couldn’t quite catch.
“Sorry, what was that?”
Goro groaned and buried his face in his hands. “I said I love you, too.”
“Ah.” He felt a flutter in his chest, and heat rose to his cheeks.
“But don’t take too much stock in that,” Goro huffed. “After all, I’m just a phantom. But for what it’s worth, real or not, I’m glad I had this time with you.”
Ren smiled, warmth radiating from his core. Goro meant more to him than just a phantom, but now wasn’t the time to argue about it.
“I know it won’t be easy,” Goro continued, “but do you promise to fight with me for the truth, all the way to the bitter end?”
“I promise,” Ren said. For Goro, he would: he’d bring reality back to where it belonged, for both the Goro he’d already lost and the one he was about to lose.
He would fight with everything he had.