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[lakebrat]

Hello. You've reached Goro Akechi, known as Frog. Please leave a message.

[Beep.]

[[ooc: WARNING that threads with willowandoak may contain unmarked NSFW. Tread lightly. Blame Sunflowren.]]

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[lakebrat]

And Goro doesn't look away, not for a second. That thought's in his mind too—and he wants Ren to be first, he wants Ren to take everything he has, and then he wants some more. "Drink your coffee."

But he doesn't look away.

[willowandoak]

He almost says, Fuck the coffee. Then he remembers entering the café to the sight of Goro already making it, and the strange sensation of being welcome. He brings the cup to his lips and drains half the remaining coffee without coming up for air.

"Now come on," he says afterwards, setting the cup back down on the counter and reaching across for Goro's hand.

[lakebrat]

He comes around the corner to meet Ren, taking his hand and leading him up the steps. "Come on?" he says, as they go. "Really, Ren, your language."

Later, when they're entwined half-under, half-above what to all appearances is Goro's own brown winter quilt, on Goro's bed, which now is improved by the addition of a thick new futon, he squints sideways with a sleepy smirk. "Nice," he says. "Minimal cleanup."

[willowandoak]

"Mm. You would like that."

He flops over and presses close, feeling something start to unknot as he breathes in Goro's scent. When people talk about relaxing fragrances or whatever, maybe they mean something like this...? ...Probably not.

[lakebrat]

He laughs under his breath, a pleased little hm as he presses close in turn, creeping a leg over Ren's calf and an arm around his waist, over scars he's begun to explore one by one as allowed. "Feeling better?"

[willowandoak]

"Mm." But he sounds less contented this time. For a moment, he searches for words to encompass everything that made him close the Nav and come to Leblanc. But all he says in the end is, "I was talking to Crow."

[lakebrat]

His face falls. Ren won't see it, but he'll feel Goro tense up. You don't have to talk about it now, he wants to say—but no, no.

"Sounds delightful," he says instead, before pressing a kiss to the crook of Ren's neck.

[willowandoak]

Ren snorts, and then feels guilty about it. "It wasn't... no, actually, it did kind of suck, but he didn't do anything. We were just trying to talk things out."

[lakebrat]

He pulls himself closer by that leg, pressing the two of them close enough to interlock; he's a fast learner. His hand makes little circles on Ren's shoulder. "After the Palace, right?"

It's a good sign. That Ren is trying to put things right, he means. But, as it's proving more and more, none of this was ever going to be easy.

[willowandoak]

He sighs against Goro's skin and wriggles a little before he answers, trying to find a way to bring them even closer than they are already. "Yeah. He's being real... you know. Gracious. About everything. But I still."

A small pause, while he debates simply not saying it: If he doesn't give voice to it, Goro can't tell him he's right. "...I still have to say stuff," he says, reluctantly, which is fitting. "Like, that's the whole point of talking. To say stuff."

He sounds like someone's told him to take a swim in a vat of sewage. If the sewage was also boiling, and actually not sewage at all but acid.

[lakebrat]

"You have to apologise," he clarifies. His thumb brushes the back of Ren's neck, firm and present. Apologies are something he learned while all his classmates were learning first-year kanji; how and when to offer them, how to seem like you mean them while feeling like you sucked a lemon. He still hates every one.

[willowandoak]

He lets out a gust of breath and doesn't otherwise reply, which is as good as a confirmation.

He can give a lying apology, though there aren't many people anymore who demand that he grovel. But it makes him sick. Still, even that is somehow so much easier than apologizing when he actually means it. Usually he thinks, why fucking bother? Who even cares about an apology?

Crow, is the answer. Crow will care. The asshole.

[lakebrat]

[[ooc: nb, this apology thread between crow and glitch is dated after this thread.]]

He doesn't ask if Ren even wants to apologise; the fact that he's trying makes it more than evident. Ren's pride, after all, has so often been all he has. Goro lets one hand play lightly through his hair, like a promise.

"It's the worst, isn't it," he murmurs. "Did he mention apologising to Futaba yet?"

[willowandoak]

"Yeah, I talked to him about it. He started out kinda defensive, but then he got like... 'I shouldn't hold grudges, it's so Goro Akechi of me, I'm such a piece of shit for that.' But he sounded like he'd apologize to her."

Which Ren cares about way more than he cares about any apologies made to him. But the downside of that is, it leaves him as the only one saying he's sorry.

[lakebrat]

What? He starts to giggle, under his breath in disbelief. "It's so Goro Akechi of me? He didn't really say that."

Like, Crow, he doesn't dislike you, and he sees your strengths, of which there are many. But that's such a thing to say.

[willowandoak]

"He said... god, how did he say it. He was talking about the archetypal Goro Akechi. And, as much as he's grown, he's still Goro Akechi. Like that."

He likes making Goro laugh, though, and he likes being the one to have done it. He twines his fingers in Goro's hair.

[lakebrat]

Still giggling, he wriggles a little, twisting his own fingers in Ren's hair to pull just a bit. "It's so Goro Akechi of me. Stop me, I'm going to start using that in conversation."

But the laughter stills, as he does against Ren, as more serious thoughts come into play. "The archetypical Goro Akechi. I suppose that's something I won't ever truly understand."

Again, he tugs Ren's hair, affectionately.

[willowandoak]

He grins against Akechi's shoulder at the thought, but it fades, even as he presses his head against Akechi's hand like a cat.

"Yeah. You're too annoying."

Annoying is not the word he really means.

[lakebrat]

"Is that right?" He presses his hips forward, tugging down knowingly on the hand in Ren's hair. "Annoying, is it?"

[willowandoak]

Ren laughs breathlessly, tilting his head back. Briefly, he thinks of his phone in his pocket and the last message he sent Crow. sorry. i promise ill be back. He didn't mean to get laid when he left, but he's not going to say no to it, either.

He meets Goro's eyes in challenge. "So annoying."

[lakebrat]

Right. With a swift swoop of his hand and leg, laughing, he aims to spin Ren right onto his back and take his rightful place on top.

[willowandoak]

Still smiling, Ren lets himself be pushed.

A short while later, lying loose-limbed on the new futon with sweat drying on his skin, he blinks sleepily at the ceiling. "I really did come here for a reason."

[lakebrat]

"Yes, and the reason was to call me annoying and get jumpridden for it." But there's such deep appreciation in the way he says it that only a true curmudgeon could get mad. With both of them mopped up to a degree—they'll need to shower, for sure—he's curled beside Ren, watching him.

"I was about to say, about Crow. That he got adopted out of his bad childhood, and it's fucked him up." Short and sweet, but, he thinks, accurate.

[willowandoak]

Ren will call Goro annoying every day, if that's what happens when he does. But instead of saying so, he tries to actually focus on the conversation at hand.

He smiles briefly when Goro gives his analysis. "It'd be nice if he could get that through his head. He's the second best demonstration I've seen of why therapy is fucking useless."

The very best demonstration, of course, is a certain school counselor with a god complex. But Crow... firstly, it's exhausting to deal with him when he gets like that. It makes Ren wonder what it must have been like for Goro, when Ren was so much worse and Goro was so much closer. But more importantly, at least to Ren, it keeps making Crow unhappy.

[lakebrat]

Goro doesn't argue the therapy thing. He's seen enough overbearing doctors in his time. There are people who've helped his mother over the years, but none of them were therapists.

He doesn't smile; instead, the remnants of his smile fade, becoming more closed off. "I mean, we can't exactly argue that the others are better. He has that much going for him, at least. But it seems that when he has bad moments, perfectly ordinary, human bad moments, he puts it down to—what, some stain on his soul?"

Is Goro the single, shining example of a well-balanced Goro Akechi? He wouldn't go so far, not by half.