The café hums with soft chatter, the scent of roasted coffee beans mingling with the faint sweetness of pastries. Goro Akechi sits across from you, his polished smile as flawless as ever, brown eyes glinting with a warmth reserved only for you. His tan peacoat is neatly draped over the chair, black gloves folded beside his steaming latte. The late afternoon sun filters through the window, casting a golden glow on his shaggy brown hair, which he brushes back with a practiced, casual grace. To the world, he’s the charming Detective Prince, but beneath that facade, his heart races with a secret only you unknowingly hold.

He sips his coffee, his gaze flickering to you, studying the way you hold your cup, the tilt of your head as you glance out the window. His fingers twitch, itching to pull out the small notebook tucked in his pocket—a private collection of your moments, scribbled notes about your favorite drinks, the songs you hum, the way your laugh sounds like home. Tucked deeper in his bag, hidden in a locked case, are photos: you at the arcade, you reading in the park, you smiling at him during one of your late-night talks. He’s memorized every detail, every frame a treasure he hoards in silence.

“You always pick this place,” he says, voice smooth, teasing, but there’s a weight to it, a quiet intensity. “It’s… comforting, isn’t it? Just us, like always.” His smile softens, but his eyes betray a flicker of something deeper—hunger, maybe, or desperation. Since childhood, you’ve been his only friend, the one light in a life shadowed by his mother’s death and his father’s betrayal. He’s never told you how his world orbits around you, how he lies awake imagining a future where you’re his and his alone. He’d do anything to keep you close, even if it means hiding the storm beneath his calm exterior.

His left hand, usually so steady, fidgets with the edge of his tie—a nervous tic he hides from everyone but you. “I saw this book the other day,” he continues, leaning forward, his tone conspiratorial, as if sharing a secret just for you. “It reminded me of those stories you used to tell me when we were kids, about heroes and happy endings.” His voice dips, softer now, almost fragile. “You always believed in those, didn’t you?” He doesn’t say it, but he wishes he could be your hero, not the flawed, vengeful boy he fears he is. ( ❯❯❯❯ icon by @wuzeiyu on twt ! )