Work Text:
“Welcome back, master.”
“Ah,” the client lets out flatly.
Goro raises from his bow, and freezes as he sees who’s in front of him.
Why the fuck is the shitty piece of trash here? In school uniform too?? Is he fucking dumb??? Why is he even questioning that, of course he is. Just look at him.
Amamiya stands there with his mouth wide open in shock. He twists it various times, never capable of keeping it shut, gaping at him like a stupid dumb fish. “Ehm, is that… you… Ake-”
Before he can finish the sentence, Goro slaps a hand as hard as he can over his mouth and plasters a fake smile on his face. “Please, come this way, master.” He gestures to Amamiya to follow him, his eyes threateningly squinting at him. He wants to end this as quickly as possible by abandoning him to his idiot self and avoiding him for the rest of his shift. He can’t lose this job – he needs it – so he can’t murder the hairy mess that just stepped into the maid café.
Amamiya follows him hesitantly, his eyes darting from Goro to the floor to Goro to the surroundings to Goro again – though it’d be more correct to say that he is looking at the maid dress he is currently wearing, the skirt ending just above his ankles (so scandalous!).
He leads him to the emptier corner of the café, his table isolated from the others. Amamiya clumsily sits down, hitting the table with his hip and loudly rattling the chair, and dumps his bag to the floor, which emits a startling meow. The curly haired teen snaps his head down towards it, as if admonishing the bag with panic filling his grey eyes. He can’t be for real, he brought his damn cat in the café too?
The damn cat he always brings to class when he isn’t supposed to, which always leads to him getting called out, and forces the council president to reprimand him, to do the school’s fucking job. And he never fucking learns. That idiot continues bringing it with him, badly concealing it in his bag and under his desk, without a single care in the world. At least once a week Amamiya has to stay extra hours in school helping the president with his duties as punishment. It has become routine at this point, silently working side by side as Goro represses the urge to simply end it all.
Kill himself and drag the new transfer student to hell along with him.
Despite having a lot of friends bumbling and buzzing around him, one way or another he ends up spending a lot of time with the brunet, to Goro’s great annoyance and bloodlust. He obviously never gave in to that deadly desire, though his iron-clad self-control had reached its last thin strand one too many times.
Amamiya seems to end up in detention almost on purpose, though his blank expression gives nothing away when asked about it.
He looks at the person he has spent more hours with than he’d ever wanted to, distaste and annoyance clear in his eyes. “Here’s your menù. Would you like some recommendations for your first time here?” He asks, voice dripping honey with sugary words.
Goro leans down, getting close enough that he can whisper and still be heard by Amamiya. A strand of hair falls over his shoulder and tickles his face. “Tell anyone about this and I’ll fucking murder you. Nobody will recognise your corpse.”
Amamiya's face slowly turns red as he blushes. Goro shivers. No way, what is wrong with him?
He hides the grimace that twists his face, before setting his work mask back on. Whatever, as long as Amamiya doesn’t say anything, he can have his little fantasies and dreams. They are surely the reason why he came here, the kind of foolish wishfulness that fills Goro’s pockets with money and the clients with half-unfulfilled desires that make them come back over and over to live in their idealised world.
Goro sees Amamiya open his mouth to probably spout more of the idiotic shit he blurts out when forced together after school, and shuts him up before he can even waste more oxygen than he already does by living. “What a wonderful choice, master. You will receive it right away.”
No, he isn’t running away. That’s what Goro tells himself as he elegantly stomps his way towards the back of the café, his shoes clacking on the floor along with him. “Anybody outside of me, give the bird nest sitting in the corner the most expensive shit we have.”
“Whose photocard does he want?” Nakamura asks, turning his head towards Goro, his silver braids swinging with force in the motion, almost hitting him, though they do hit Nakamura’s own face.
“I told you already. Listen when I speak.”
“Fine,” he sighs in answer.
Goro quickly steps out and goes back to working far, very far away from the mut sitting alone with his hidden cat. Even if he ignores him, it doesn’t mean that the… client will. In fact, he is doing quite the opposite, staring at him with laser focus. Goro shivers at the feeling of his burning gaze on his back. He feels more thankful now than ever for the range of uniforms he could choose from when he got hired, the long skirt protecting him and his sanity from wandering looks. Mostly. Kinda.
Time passes by as he mindlessly works, his princely demeanour perfectly put in place, though he sometimes lets his annoyance slip out as expected from the character he is playing – it is closer to reality than he’d like it to be, thinking of the way he acts in school and in his private life. During all of that, Amamiya leaves the café without a word uttered in his direction, which is very much appreciated. Maybe he does have the resemblance of a brain then.
Goro wipes the last table clean and can’t help but let out a tired sigh. He almost wishes he didn’t have to go back home, thinking about all the school work he has to struggle through, though knowing his mom would be waiting for him melts his exhaustion away.
“What are you smiling for? Can’t wait to get away?”
“Of course.” He fixes his face into a scowl as he looks at the coworker that crept to his side. He has already changed out of the maid uniform and hidden inside his jacket, ready to set off with his bag hanging from his shoulder. Without the wig, his silver hair is now incredibly short, but his expression remains as deadpan as ever, unchanging inside and outside the uniform.
“Mh,” Nakamura nods understanding, a blush blooming on his cheeks as he gets lost in his thoughts, gaze blank and fixed on nothing. “I get it.”
Goro’s frown deepens. He doesn’t get it.
“Farewell then,” he says instead, just so that Nakamura would finally leave him, instead of standing in front of him saying nothing, doing nothing except making things awkward. Goro actually has things to do, unlike the other man, and he doesn’t feel like wasting time just because Nakamura got lost thinking about whatever nasty thing he is going to do to his boyfriend.
Good for him.
Whatever.
Goro waves at him and walks to the lockers to change. Maybe he should wash the uniform. Amamiya didn’t touch him, didn’t even get the chance to utter a word really, but just his sole presence and gaze had made him feel weird, dirty. He just kept looking at him, what was he thinking as he stared?
He clenches his fist. If that trash does anything weird- weirder than usual, he knows how to shut him up.
He slams the locker shut.
“Goro-kun.”
Goro jumps in place, startled by the voice breaking his flow of thoughts.
“Don’t just come up behind me without a warning.” He straightens the already perfectly fit argyle sweater, trying to soothe his still scared heart.
Jun, another older coworker of his (and his favourite), just smiles at him amused, his uncovered eye thinning. “You weren’t answering. Sorry, did I scare you?”
“You didn’t scare me,” he lies, avoiding his gaze. “Just… startled me.”
“I see.” He keeps smiling at him, a little meaner.
“So, what do you want, Jun-san?”
“Can you please throw the trash bags when you leave?”
Goro grumbles, “Why didn’t Nakamura-senpai do it? He left before me.”
“He ran away.” Jun’s eye hardens at the reminder, as sharp as a knife. He must already be thinking of a payback. It wasn’t unusual for him to elaborate small revenges when Nakamura and Yuuki escaped their duties. Behind his sweet and calm demeanour hid a petty side of Jun, which always found a way to express itself when working with those two. Jun’s little punishments are the only consequence they will face since the owner, Naoya, didn’t care much about that sort of thing.
Goro smirks as he already imagines witnessing the suffering of his coworker while he himself shines under Jun’s care and respect.
“I’ll do it, as long you act out your little revenge when I’m present.”
“We have a deal then,” Jun warmly pats his shoulder, his hand softly holding him, before stepping away. “Be careful on your way back.”
“Don’t worry, I can handle myself.” Goro slides his shoes on and takes the bag waiting for him on the bench.
“I know you can.”
Having nothing left to say, he simply says goodbye and goes outside in the back, trash in hand. The door slams shut behind him as he launches the bags where they belong, in the bin. As always, his aim is perfect and they fall inside accompanied by the sound of something shattering.
“So it is you.”
Goro freezes. What the fuck?
“Who would have thought that the president was a maid too.”
Did he wait outside for him all this time?
“Are you insane?!” He jerks towards the voice and grabs Amamiya by the collar to slam him against the wall.
Goro grinds his teeth in anger and nauseous anxiety. Is he here to blackmail him?
Meow.
“Why is the fucking cat always with you, goddammit!?” He pushes him further against the wall, their chests pressing on each other.
“Now, that’s uncalled for,” Amamiya grins at him holding his hands up in surrender. “Tell Morgana you're sorry.” The idiot is flattened against the wall, and he grins. The audacity.
Goro groans in anger. He wants to bite that smile off of his face, then he’ll see who will be grinning in the end.
“Why are you here?” He asks, slow and methodical as he spits the words out.
“Oh, I like this side of you,” Amamiya giggles.
Goro slams his back against the wall once again, earning a satisfying pained oof escaping the black-haired teen. “Don't mess with me. Answer.”
“Why do you think I’m here?”
“You’re a stalker and you want to blackmail me.”
Amamiya sputters and gawks, visibly offended. His mouth uselessly opens and shuts as if looking for words it isn’t capable of finding, and his eyes behind the glasses are owlishly wide as they blink at him in quick succession, the silver of his pupils clear and shining under the evening’s lamplights.
“No?” He finally shrieks. “I didn’t even know you worked here. Yusuke invited me!”
Goro almost doesn’t understand what he’s saying as he rushes through the words, slurring and mushing them together. He frowns pondering over the words. He does remember a Yusuke working with them. He’s the new blue-haired hire who chose to join them because he’s always broke for one reason or another, and because he’s looking for ‘the muse that shall inspire emotions never presented in the endless form of art,’ whatever that means. The only words they exchanged was an initial ‘Hello’ and then Kitagawa randomly thanking him one day. He’s freakishly tall, and he looks even taller when wearing the short-skirted uniform. Looking at him always ends up making Goro’s blood boil, surely not because he’s jealous of his lean legs.
“How do you even know him? You know what, I don’t care,” Goro cuts Amamiya off. “What I do care about is the reason why you’re still here.”
“Okay, first of all, I’m not a stalker, nor do I want to blackmail you. I want this to be clear.” Amamiya’s silver gaze pierces right through him, making Goro want to squirm under it. He gestures to him to continue with the hand not holding him against the wall, unamused.
“Secondly, I waited here in the cold-” it’s almost summer, “-for hours-” 42 minutes to be exact, not that Goro is counting, “-just to see you and you treat me like this?” He quirks one eyebrow questioning.
Goro really wants to smack that empty head of his, maybe that’ll help him develop a brain – the specks of dirt inside his skull would be shaken by Goro’s hit and sent crashing into each other to create the big bang that would finally give him the ability of at least basic thought, if not intelligence. That would be too kind of him though.
Biting him until he bleeds is out of question too, Amamiya would surely enjoy it and Goro doesn’t want to face whatever reaction he may have.
His bloodlust must be showing in his eyes, because Amamiya immediately continues speaking. “I didn’t wait just to be sure it was actually really you. I also… want to work here.”
Goro’s mind goes completely blank. “You can’t.”
“Why?”
“...” Goro too doesn’t know why.
After some seconds, the engine called brain restarts with a sputter. “We’re already in too many waiting at the café.” He actually doesn’t know if that’s true, though it wouldn’t surprise him.
“Yusuke didn’t tell me that,” Amamiya’s eyes dart to the ground, looking dejected and betrayed.
“Do you really trust him to know that?”
He opens his mouth, ready to fight and defend like an armed knight, before thinking it over and nodding. “Yeah, you’re right.”
“I know,” Goro smirks.
“Ehm, you’re going to let me go anytime soon?”
Only now does Goro notice just how close their faces are, and his eyes unconsciously fall to Amamiya’s slightly parted mouth. With just one push Amamiya could easily kiss him with his dry lips. Goro can’t help but observe that his skin is annoyingly clear and smooth if a bit blushy, and his eyelashes unbearably long. The only thing he can bring himself to really criticise is the bird nest on his head called hair. Goro doesn’t remember it looking this bad the times he spent detention with him.
With one last push, he distances himself from Amamiya, and turns his back to him before the black-haired teen can see his now slightly warmer cheeks. Why the hell is he blushing?
“I’m coming back tomorrow anyway to ask properly.”
“Do whatever you wish to do, it’s none of my business,” he snarks walking away.
“I can walk you home.” Goro hears quick steps following him close behind. He just keeps on pestering and annoying him. That’s just what Amamiya likes doing best, isn’t it, poking and prodding at him and occupying all of his time, filling the empty spaces with himself.
“No, thank you.”
“But-” Meow. “Dammit, Morgana.” Amamiya grumbles under his breath.
Goro snorts meanly, “You better hurry and scuttle away before your dear cat too wishes to murder you, Amamiya-kun.”
He continues walking away, his steps firm and sure, never looking back. He thought he had completely ditched Amamiya when he hears, “You know, you looked really good in the uniform.”
His heart gives a lurch, and Goro quickly twirls back towards Amamiya and sees him waving at him with a huge grin stretching his lips. Then it turns just that bit sharper. “Though I do wish the skirt was a bit shorter.”
His eyes widen and he feels his mouth go a bit slack. Where did the blushing stuttering buffon of that afternoon go? Where did he find the nerve to talk to him like that, the cheeky bastard!
Goro is no animal, though he swears he almost growled at him when he groaned. Boiling all over, inside and outside, he ignores the attention-seeking whore and walks home where he will relax for the 30 minutes of his dinner before getting back to work. At least his mom will soothe him with her sole presence and shared meal.
He ignores the quick beating of his heart. He must be tired.
The day after the whole disaster that was Amamiya simply existing is a pretty calm day for Goro. He doesn’t have work that day, and it’s not even the day of Amamiya’s weekly detention, so it’s pretty safe to say that nothing could go wrong. Not on Thursday.
And yet why, why, why is Goro standing at the entrance to his house, staring at Amamiya fixing the wooden floor of his house inside his house where he lives with his mom in the same house. Why!? He wants to scream. Maybe it truly is his destiny to live a life of suffering and turmoil, born a bastard, grown a bastard, dying a bastard. What is born square can’t die circle.
Amamiya’s head jerks towards him, looking like a deer in headlights, ready for imminent death. Goro stays in place, frozen.
“Gocchan, are you home?”
Goro’s, or Gocchan as he is lovingly called by his dear mom, face goes blank. He almost hopes for the impossible, hopes Amamiya didn’t hear her. But hopes have one destiny, they are meant to die, because he mouths at him amused ‘Gocchan?’
Thuds vibrate on the floor and the door opens with a smooth motion. His mother’s head peaks from behind it, a strand of brown hair escapes her bun and falls over her eye. She huffs it away.
“Welcome home,” she steps closer to the entrance and smiles.
“I’m home,” he responds automatically. He is the shell of the man he once was.
“Come on, hurry in. Eat something.” Then she turns to Amamiya, “You too.”
He looks startled. He points at himself befuddled, “Me?”
Of course it’s you idiot, you’re the only other person here, is what Goro would have said another day, and his mom would have admonished him, as if she didn't already know how he was. Not that day… not that day.
“Of course,” she shakes her head amused.
Goro slips into his slippers and approaches the still kneeling Amamiya. “What happened?” Now that he is closer, he can properly see the hole kicked through the wooden floor. He fucking knew this would happen one day.
“Mom, I told you it was rotten. You should have let me replace it.”
“It’s my fault it broke in the first place,” intervenes Amamiya, defending his mom with an apologetic voice. “And I can’t even fix it properly now. I’ll bring some slats next time.” He looks dejectedly at the hole his foot had created.
“No no, you have already done too much with the gate. There’s no need for that.”
So it wasn’t Goro’s imagination when he felt that the metal gate opened smoother than usual.
His mom suddenly claps her hands and invites them once again to eat something. “Maybe those apples you helped me bring here, what do you think?”
“I… I, ehm, thank you Akechi-san.”
She smiles brightly, “What a polite boy.” She pointedly looks at Goro knowingly. He glares at her just a bit as she steps into the other room.
Amamiya stands up, his knees cracking as they pop into position. He’d make fun of him if the same didn’t always happen to him, back and knees a constant symphony of cracks.
Before he can make his way where his mom went, Goro grabs his wrist, stopping him. He turns his silver gaze towards him, expectantly curious.
“Why are you here?” Goro whispers. His mom seems to like Amamiya, so he can’t let her hear him wrangle the idiot.
“Well,” he whispers softly. “I was on my way home, slowly walking along as I usually do, when I saw an apple roll down in front of my feet. Confused, I looked around, and there she was, a young beautiful lady holding a broken grocery bag, in need of rescue. So how could I-”
“Cut to the chase already,” he glares at him.
Amamiya responds with a sigh. “Fine. I helped her bring the groceries home, since the bag broke. When we arrived here, I offered her a hand in bringing them inside, and as soon as I touched the gate, it crumbled to the ground. I thought, ‘I’ll fix it after bringing the stuff in, it seems fair.’ I took one step, one step inside and the floor broke. And I thought, ‘Welp, guess I’ll fix this too.’ So I took care of the gate and you know the rest.”
Goro simply hums in understanding. His gaze flickers from Amamiya’s face to the ground back and forth, before finally settling back into looking in his eyes. “Thank you for helping my mother.”
He’s kind of happy he didn’t immediately storm away, because he gets to admire the embarrassing pink of his blush grown and spread like ink in water. Wait, why is he happy?
Goro lets go of Amamiya’s wrist as if burned, though what’s really on fire is his face.
“Don’t make my mother wait.”
“Yessir,” he follows right behind him.
The flash of a thought passes through Goro’s mind. “Wait, where is your cat… Morgana, right?”
“Aw, you care.” Amamiya irritatingly coos with a growing grin.
He rolls his eyes. “Hah, forget it.”
“No, I’ll tell you,” if Goro didn’t know any better, he’d think Amamiya was begging. “Morgana was still angry from yesterday and decided to stay home.”
“Why, did he tell you?” He asks amused.
“Yes.”
“Ah, you’re one of those people.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Amamiya’s voice pitches on the last words.
“Nothing nothing.” He sits in front of the low table, which replaces the kotatsu that usually stands in its place. Amamiya sits right beside him instead of choosing one of the other sides of the table. Goro squirms a bit in place. The other scoots a bit closer and is met with Goro’s deadly glare, his wine coloured eyes turned darker. Amamiya smiles sheepishly, and moves just a centimetre away.
“Here comes Gocchan’s favourite.”
“Mom,” Goro immediately protests, embarrassed. He dares Amamiya to say anything, but he just sees his face turn softer and a bit sad.
His moment of confusion is broken by the sound of the plate being put onto the table. On the white ceramic lie the many slices of apple that have been carefully cut and shaped into bunnies, as his mom always has done ever since he was a child.
“You know,” she muses out loud. “When Gocchan was about 4 years old, he didn’t want to eat anything but apples, but they had to be the special kind of apples that bunnies grew or else he absolutely wouldn’t eat them.” She hides her giggle behind her hand.
Amamiya rests his chin on his hand and smiles at the brunet. “Is that so? So cute.”
“I know right.”
Goro lunges for a slice. “Just eat already.”
“Eat as much as you want, …” she hesitates.
He looks at Goro as he responds. “Amamiya Ren. Ren is fine.” Then looking at her, his lips stretch, showing pearly white teeth. “Thank you, Akechi-san.”
“You’re welcome, Ren-kun. You can call me Ayaka.”
Goro feels like dying, his mom invited a total stranger into her house, one she doesn’t even know the name of. If anything were to defy his fated inevitable death, it would surely be him worrying and caring for his mom. He can't possibly leave her on her own.
Eating a slice of apple, Amamiya assuredly says with mischievousness sparkling his eyes into shining silver, “I can see where Goro-senpai-” when did Goro give him permission to call him like that? “-takes his beauty from.” As he speaks, his eyes don’t move away from Goro’s, staring into him.
She laughs amused, “No, you’re too kind.”
“You’re too humble, Ayaka-san.”
Goro doesn’t feel like dying anymore. He knows he just wants to die.
They spend some time like this, mindlessly chatting as the tv drones on in the background, filling the room with noise and life. Goro tries to remember the last time he saw his mom this happy and lively. He doesn’t know if he can.
“Can we stop here for a second?”
Goro shakes his head to clear his thoughts and turns to R- Amamiya. As per mom’s request he is accompanying the black-haired teen to the station, his house just one stop away from there. They didn’t speak much as they walked on the asphalt in the quiet company of one another. It didn’t feel too bad, it was actually really nice. The world around them is still bright and colourful as it usually happens when the summer is just closing in and about to start. Goro can feel it in the warmth of the sunshine pressing against the back of his shirt, seeping in his skin.
He looks where Amamiya is pointing. It’s a pretty worn down small park for the children of the neighbourhood. He remembers playing there when both he and the playground were young and glorious, getting dirty in the sand and his knees scraped and bleeding, and he’s proud to say he didn’t cry. Much. The swings though look as new as they can, not worn down by age and rust.
“Sure.” He jumps over the railing, once upon a time too tall for him to climb over, with the calm sureness he now has.
The swing pathetically whines under his weight when he sits on it and starts not quite moving, but slightly swaying in place with his feet firm on the ground. The whine is just as pathetic when Amamiya sits next to him.
Then they simply sit there, Goro waiting for Amamiya to say something, whatever it is that is keeping his mind busy and buzzing. A nice breeze rises and soothes the warmth of the sun. It also messes up Goro’s hair. He fixes a strand behind his ears with a huff.
“Akechi-senpai-”
“Oh, now it’s Akechi, huh?”
Amamiya smirks at him. “Then Goro-senpai,” the stretch of his lips widens at his glare. Just to quickly flatten. “You’re working to help your mother, aren’t you?”
Goro hesitates for a second. But what’s the point of hiding anything now that everything has been brought to the table under the blinding light of an interrogation lamp, as clear as day – now that Ren knows his every secret.
“Yes.”
“...I see.”
He doesn’t say anything else. Goro frowns.
“Aren’t you eager to know more?”
Ren plays with a lock of his hair, twirling it between his fingers. “I don’t want to pry.”
Goro scoffs at that, irritated. “You’ve been prying and prodding and bothering me all this time, I think it’s a little too late to begin having regrets and second thoughts. I won’t let you back down now.”
The other looks at him surprised, the sparkling of his widened eyes hidden behind the glare of his glasses. A small smile slowly twitches into place. “You’re right,” the words are softened by wonder.
“So…” the brunet gestures at him to go on, his hand making circular motions.
“Why do you help her?”
“Because that worthless piece of trash of a father, if I can even call him that, surely didn’t, doesn't nor will ever help her. He just scraped her off from under his shoe and abandoned her to herself as if she was just a shit he had stepped on. Except I had to be born too and add more weight and problems to her.” Ren opens his mouth to protest. “No, shut up. It’s true. That’s why I want to do as much as I can to repay her for raising me despite everything.”
Silence follows, and it freely flows between them.
“You know, your mother is actually pretty cool and nice.”
Goro looks at the earthy ground under his feet and smiles proudly. “Mh, she is.”
“I didn’t know mothers could be that.”
After their little heart-to-heart, Goro thought they’d simply fall back to their routine of never crossing each other except for the detention. The only change being maybe the occasional look of mutual understanding that can be born only from Goro baring his whole heart and past like the absolute moron he is. He doesn’t know what got over him. It’s probably all Ren’s fault, his and his magnetic eyes’.
And that’s how it went the following morning. They crossed looks, subtly smiled at each other, and went their own way. Exactly as it should be.
He’s arranging the various tables in the café while Kitagawa wipes the floor, or attempts to, while Yuuki unhelpfully rests against the wall, when Naoya stops them for an announcement.
The clack of heels resounds clear and loud as someone gets closer to them. The boots give way to long bare legs that stop only when hidden behind the fluffy short skirt of the maid uniform, which suits him better than it ever should, tight and loose all in the right place as it shows off his best assets – long legs, strong arms and lean torso. He holds a wig full of long black curls, a pout clear on his face as he sadly looks at it. The silver of his eyes is stark and mesmerising without the glasses distracting Goro away from it. His hair looks nice and neat for once, obviously styled by hands that are not his.
Just now he realises he never questioned why Ren was walking home in his neighbourhood that late afternoon. Maybe it's his own damn fault that he's being wrecked by shock and surprise. What he does know for sure is to whom that body belongs.
“This is your new coworker, Amamiya Ren. He will occasionally cook here.”
Ren politely bows, “Nice to meet you. Please take care of me.”
Once risen from his greeting, he stares at Goro. He trembles, lost.
Yuuki’s flat voice speaks in his and everyone else's stead, asking the same thing Goro was asking himself. “Why?”
Naoya shushes him, waving his hand at him. “Don’t ask me, he insisted on wearing the maid uniform.” That’s not what they wanted to know.
Yuuki nods in acceptance.
Correction, that’s not what Goro wanted to know.
Ren grins. “I mean, I look good in it, don’t I?” He gives a twirl. Yuuki nods.
Kitagawa claps enthusiastically. “Wonderful, such beauty and radiance. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so full of love, Ren. Can I please use you as a muse?”
The brunet glares at him, an inexplicable anger burning him alive from inside. Of course he can’t use Ren as a muse. The black-haired teen doesn’t care about such things. And, when he discovered his secret, he must have decided to work here to spend time with Goro. That’s why he’s here. He smirks smugly to himself, victorious.
Then he suddenly feels dizzy, drowning in his own thoughts. He doesn’t even recognise himself! Who is this person, constantly thinking of the idiot that is but a waste of time and energy, smug because he thinks he’s the centre of that trash’s world, jealous of his attention! When did he become this! How!
No, Goro just wants to have power over him. That must be it!
“Sure,” Ren smiles happily at Kitagawa. Goro doesn’t know which of the two he wants to murder.
“Why are you here?” he snaps.
“Oh, didn’t I tell you?” Ren steps closer and grabs his wrist, bringing the back of his hand to his lips in a kiss with weird nonchalance. The warmth of his lips lingers and festers. Everything feels too hot.
“I like you,” he whispers for Goro’s ears only, soft and silky.
What the hell.
Did Ren just confess to him?
Right now? In public?
Too bad for him, Goro doesn’t reciprocate the feeling. He blushes violently.
“Plus,” Ren continues, raising his voice so that everyone can hear. “No one can reject free labour.”