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"Can I tell you something I've never told anyone else?"
They're tangled up in bed, and Ren's got one hand placed on Goro's shoulder, and the other placed on his heart, feeling the beating, because he's alive, alive, alive. He can feel the milk crates digging into his side, and he knows Goro has got to feel it too, considering his back is on the mattress, but it's okay, because they're together and Goro isn't going to leave, not again.
Goro's hand stops carding through thick dark locks of hair. When he speaks his voice is quiet, and breathy, and Ren thinks to himself that he could never get tired of hearing that voice—this quiet, casual piece of Goro that no one else bears witness to. "Of course,"
The attic is chilly tonight. Ren's space heater, while valiant in its efforts, was never entirely able to drive out the chill. He and Goro are covered by a couple thin, ratty blankets. He's never bought anything more substantial, despite his plethora of funds, just like how he's never bought a bed, or a better heater, or even anything to curb the dust that stubbornly liked to hang around the place.
Ren pushes himself up, lifting his head from its position in the crook of Goro's neck to meet the other in the eyes. His glasses are off; he knows the room is dim but he also knows his gaze his intense. Wine-colored eyes meet his own without faltering. Goro never shied away from him.
He isn't sure why, but the words spill out of him without a thought. "My teacher. Do you remember her? Kawakami," he shifts so he can twirl a strand of hair around his finger. He really isn't sure why he's telling Goro this, why he's saying anything at all. He isn't remotely certain what he's even saying. "She had this whole, like, maid thing, going on, uh, like"—he pauses, scanning Goro's unreadable expression. Words felt far from him in that moment; what was it called again? Maybe he was just beating around the bush.
"There was a whole set of circumstances leading up to it that I won't bother to get into, but I used to call her and she'd come on up here and we'd talk. And, she had a lot of really tragic things going on in her life, so I'd try to offer consolation. She gave me massages and she, well, she"—the rest of his sentence gets caught in his throat, and he stops, mind reeling back.
It's years ago, again, and it's spring and he's sixteen, and he's sneaking his teacher out before his guardian finds out what he's doing. He's sixteen and he's meddling in yakuza affairs just so he can get a discount on fake guns for his team. He's sixteen and he's listening to all these peoples' problems even though he has so many of his own to fix. He'd spent that entire year going all across Tokyo, helping all of these adults with their adult affairs. Nobody stopped him. Nobody even knew. Nobody even knew how much he was doing.
It was always his responsibility to get the supplies, so he did what he had to do, he'd always reasoned. So what if it meant risking his own hide for somebody else? He'd done that plenty. It was his duty as leader. To stick up for others. It was what landed him in this whole mess. Meddling in other's affairs.
Meddling in adult affairs. Adult affairs.
He exhaled suddenly. He remembers sneaking in quick winks of sleep during borrowed free time. Was it worth it?
Making tools during class. Was it worth it? Hands snaking down his back, pressing into knots. Hands dipping lower than they should. He enters Mementos and is taking down a shadow. He reads a book while he waits for his teacher to return. He's being told to strip as he sits on that exam table and the chill is seeping into his bones and into his brain and his mind is getting fuzzy with drugs. He's entering a palace and has to force a Bead down the throat of his motionless teammate.
It's when Ren realizes he's gripping Goro's night shirt in an ironclad grip that he pulls himself out of it. He presses his face into Goro's neck again, mind suddenly scattered. His clothes felt too tight and his lungs felt like they were starving for air. He kisses the other's neck. Goro is precious oxygen. Goro's hands are pushing at him and he doesn't know why and he hates it, hates that he isn't allowed this moment of reprieve, and suddenly he's staring his lover in the eyes once again.
Goro's jaw is set and his expression is hard. His eyes are intense; Ren can see the cogs turning behind them. He was always thinking, thinking so much, and Ren always admired that. He hadn't been the Detective Prince for nothing.
"Ren," he starts, and his voice is so uncharacteristically gentle that it makes Ren's heart rate spike. Sometimes he still grapples with the fact this is real. "Ren, that isn't"—
Goro sits up, and Ren realizes that what he was struggling to read was concern, and the idea that Goro was concerned for him was enough to make him laugh. He isn't really sure what's even so funny, but he keeps laughing until tears prick at his eyes and Goro's hands are cupping his face, forcing him to meet his gaze.
He laughs and it turns into some sort of horrid choking noise, and he slumps forward, head pressed against Goro's chest. Ren was never much of a crier, in all honesty. He hadn't cried when he was arrested, hadn't cried his first night in Leblanc—despite how scared he had been. He'd choked up the night Goro died, back when he'd been Akechi, traitor-turned-savior, instead of who he was now.
The news of his supposed status in Maruki's reality had been enough to make him start ugly crying, which was what he was doing now. His face felt too hot, scrunched up as tears slipped out despite his best efforts, throat clenched as strange sobbing sounds escaped him. Goro's hands were light as they smoothed soothing circles over Ren's back. It'd taken a while for Goro to get comfortable being touchy like this, let alone comforting Ren in the first place. Physical touch was still iffy for him sometimes, but they were more familiar with eachother by now.
He sucked in a shaky breath, unplastering his face from Goro's now-wet shirt to meet his eyes. His face was blurry through the tears still swimming in Ren's eyes, but his expression was easy enough to make out. He was smiling, or something like that.
"Feel better now?" Goro probed, and Ren didn't have it in him to do much else other than nod. The clawing ache in his chest was easing up. He could breathe without wanting to scream until his vocal chords gave out.
"I'm glad you felt comfortable enough to share that," he continued, and Ren is once again stunned by how much going through therapy has bettered him. "I do think this is a subject we should broach at a later date, however I believe getting some rest would be ideal for now, hmm?"
Ren nodded again, and Goro, satisfied, seemingly, by his compliance, settled back down onto what Ren called a pillow. His eyes felt heavy from his outburst, and despite his efforts otherwise, he felt himself falling asleep moments later, lulled by the feeling of fingers carding through his hair.