“Your screen is cracked,” Futaba observes as she looks at Goro furiously typing away across from her. “Didn’t take you for a clumsy type. Mister Perfect my ass.”

“Mind your own business,” Goro mutters angrily, putting the phone back into his pocket suspiciously fast. Futaba hacked Akira’s phone way too many times not to know the kind of messages they must be exchanging. “Or the next time we’re in the Mementos it’s something else I’ll be cracking.”

“Akira literally just went out to get some snacks,” Futaba rolls her eyes. “You guys are so gross.”

“I’m not texting him,” Goro says, getting up nonchalantly and not at all suspiciously, because he has nothing hide. “I’m leaving, by the way. Unlike your merry band of fools, I find little entertainment in stuffing myself full with bags of packaged cancer. Enjoy your healthy meal.”

Futaba surprisingly says nothing, looking weirdly pleased with herself. Alarming, Goro thinks, but ultimately harmless. His pocket starts with an incoming call from Akira. Goro pulls the door open to take it outside, which is the exact moment Futaba chooses to call after him:

“Nice ass.”

He drops his phone again, adding yet another crack to the already damaged screen.

---

When the screen cracks on the pavement outside of Jazz Jin, it’s accompanied by Akira’s hearty laughter, and a bunch of swear words muttered into the cold winter air by Goro.

Akira shows him thumbs up. Goro hates him.

“You owe me for a new phone,” Goro says in a vain attempt to evaporate Akira’s smug grin. “And I’m never going out with you again.”

“Can’t blame for stating the obvious,” Akira shrugs, his eyes already lazily searching for the damned cat. “Didn’t mean to offend you.”

He doesn’t see the shove coming. Akira’s back hits the wall and his skull makes an unpleasant sound as it connects with the bricks. Goro uses the moment when Akira’s completely defenceless, his clever mouth unable to come up with another witty retort.

It’s so quick Akira will later mistake it for a hallucination. He’s probably concussed but the taste of Goro’s lips, his teeth pulling at Akira’s lower lip is real enough, and Akira will spend another week tracing over the bruise he left on his mouth.

What follows, Akira dreams up. I mean he has to.

Goro’s hand grabs his crotch. Akira probably moans from the pain and pleasure both.

“Nice cock,” the Goro he probably hallucinated says with a hint of satisfaction, as he disappears into the night.