"Come on, Goto-san," Masayoshi pleads, voice jumping into the high range that by all rights ought to be irritating and only ever manages inexplicable charm. "It smells like strawberries!"
"No," Goto declares without looking up and therefore running the risk of going temporarily insane under the effect of the puppy-dog eyes he can feel Masayoshi giving him. "I don't want to smell like dessert."
"It fizzes!" Masayoshi attempts, moving on to the next reason why trying out his newly acquired bath bomb is a great idea and something that apparently cannot be done in Goto's absence. "You've never tried one, Goto-san, they're amazing!"
"And I'm just fine without the experience." Goto does look up then, reflex overriding his better judgment, and is immediately aware it's a mistake. Masayoshi is hovering next to him, looking down with his shoulders tipped in and hands clasped in front of himself like he's pleading for something; even with him standing and Goto sitting, he manages to look like a supplicant begging for something critical to his very survival. It's not fair at all, given the triviality of their conversation subject and especially given that seeing that wide-eyed intensity on Masayoshi's face always makes Goto's heart twist upside-down like it's trying to break free of the cage of his ribs.
"No," he repeats, even though he can feel himself giving in and even though Masayoshi hasn't actually said anything. "If you want to use it so much do it yourself."
"But you've never tried them before," Masayoshi pouts. "You don't even know if you like them or not. And this is the best one I have!"
Goto narrows his eyes in suspicion. "This has one of those little figurines inside, doesn't it."
Masayoshi glows, excitement flushing his cheeks into sunshine-happiness that answers Goto's question before he speaks, has him groaning resignation even as Masayoshi says, "It's special edition!" like he was just waiting for Goto to ask. "I waited for an hour to buy it, they only released a few hundred!"
"Better use it and get your figurine then," Goto says, looking away like that will save him from the inevitable capitulation. "Get out of here."
"Goto-san." It's a whimper, it would be annoying if it didn't sound so painfully, sharply sincere. It's as if Masayoshi doesn't know the effect he has, like he can't see Goto's defenses melting away the moment he speaks, like he's taking the other's refusal for truth instead of a last desperate attempt at resistance. "But I want you there too." Masayoshi shifts, drops to kneel at Goto's side, and when he leans in his forehead bumps Goto's shoulder, the weight and the warmth of it enough to push away Goto's crumbling reasons to refuse. "I don't want to use it unless you're there."
Goto groans. It sounds like frustration, the best attempt at irritation he can manage in the form of words because his actions are turning him sideways, bringing his arm up to drop around Masayoshi's shoulders as he unfolds his legs and prepares to stand. "Fine," he sighs. "Let's get you your figurine."
It's worth it from the first delighted gasp of surprise at Masayoshi's lips, the "Goto-san!" bright and high and glowing with joy. The rest of it - the sweet of strawberries in the air, the shine of water across Masayoshi's skin, the warm of Masayoshi's smile when Goto leans in to kiss the damp off his mouth - is just a bonus, further incentive as unnecessary as it is appreciated.