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Akira is wearing a tailcoat.
It's far too formal even for a gallery opening, but there's so much mirth and nostalgia to it that Yusuke barely notices. Every time Akira turns around, Yusuke expects to see the mask. The change in attire has brought out his boyfriend's flare for the dramatic, and he's ridiculously attractive walking through the gallery with his head held high.
Yusuke catches himself paying more attention to him than to the art pieces. It's shameful but familiar.
Akira manages to charm and impress strangers with only a handful of words. Yusuke knows him better than anyone, and remembers late night whispers about Akira being unsure of himself at artist gatherings. These patrons of the arts know nothing of this, as he carries himself with absolute confidence. It's intoxicating, this hidden knowledge of such a brilliant soul's inner depths. It's inspiration. It's love.
"You're staring into space again," Ann interrupts his thoughts. Yusuke shakes himself out of his trance.
"My apologies," He says. "I was... considering."
"You were watching Akira-kun. It's sweet," Haru chimes in, sounding sincerely charmed. Both of them are visiting for the gallery, Haru as a patron and Ann as a fan.
“He does look rather handsome this evening. I believe it’s the outfit,” Yusuke says, sipping his drink. Ann laughs.
“He’s such a dork. Nobody but us gets what he’s dressed up as,” She says.
“I don’t think it’s intended as a costume…” Haru says, frowning.
“No, I doubt that it is,” Yusuke agrees. His attention is still divided between the girls and his boyfriend, who is nodding along to something an elderly woman is telling him. They’re too far away to hear what they’re saying.
“Guys. He’s wearing tails, come on. He had to find that, they aren’t exactly in fashion. He’s in Joker mode,” Ann insists.
“I think it’s fun!” Haru chirps. “I wish I had opportunities to dress up as Noir again.”
“I do feel a bit nostalgic for the costumes,” Yusuke admits. For all the danger involved in exploring palaces, the apparel had made him feel powerful. And the nostalgia really can’t be ignored. All of the most beloved people in his life came into it during that time.
“I don’t think I’ll ever want to wear my Panther costume in public,” Ann sighs.
“I always thought it was cute!” Haru says, and Ann shakes her head.
They’re interrupted by the reappearance of Akira himself, finally separated from the old woman he’d been talking to. His expression is polite and cheerful up until they shift to pull him into their circle. Then it drops into something more natural and he leans against Yusuke. His warm weight is a comfort and Yusuke places a hand on his boyfriend’s back to steady him. The fabric of the tailcoat is soft beneath his fingers, a slightly different texture than the Joker costume it seems to be a reference to.
The nature of their relationship has been an open book for a while now. There’s a bit of gossip, but mostly people simply pretend to ignore it.
“I know an awful lot about that woman’s cats now,” Akira says flatly. Haru breaks into giggles.
“Are they cute? Mona might get jealous.”
“He insists that he isn’t jealous of the cats that live in the alleyway near our building,” Yusuke comments. “In spite of Akira regularly feeding them.”
“If anything, he’s only upset that he has to share his fish,” Akira says.
“I was under the impression you bought more expensive fish for Morgana than for the neighborhood cats,” Yusuke asks. Akira laughs.
“True, but he doesn’t know that.”
“Aww, you should tell him! I’m sure it would make him feel special,” Haru says.
“Or inflate his ego,” Ann counters. It makes Akira laugh harder. The motion of it carries to where Yusuke is touching him.
“They aren’t mutually exclusive,” Akira says.
“Ah, Kitagawa-san!”
It’s an unfamiliar voice and the sound of it quickly rearranges the group. Their cluster fans out, splitting between Ann and Haru so the two girls end up flanking Yusuke and Akira. Akira stays close. It’s a familiar arrangement; even five years after the Metaverse, the Phantom Thieves still take defensive positions if you single out any given member.
The person who approaches them is another elderly woman. For the most part, Yusuke’s friends are the youngest people in the room. There are a few other artists in their 20s, but the attendees are primarily older adults.
“Hello,” Yusuke says, politely. Akira is visibly sizing up this stranger, but it’s only obvious because Yusuke has known him for so long. A lot of the visual language of Akira Kurusu requires time to master.
“I was hoping you’d be here. I wanted to meet you at the show on Tatsumi Port Island, but you’d already gone home by the time I arrived. Are these your friends?”
“Ah. Yes, they’re here to support me today.”
“It’s so good to see young people enjoying art,” The woman says, smiling at the gathered ex-thieves. The defensive positions the girls have taken relax a little. They were likely formed out of instinct in the first place.
“Yusuke is quite talented. It’s hard to see why anyone wouldn’t enjoy his work,” Akira chimes in, the only one who hasn’t eased out of active support mode. It’s unsurprising. While most of the team only goes on the defensive to protect, Akira is relentless in his support of Yusuke and his art. He’s using all of his charm this evening in his unending fight for Yusuke's honor and reputation.
“Well, there’s no accounting for poor taste!” The old woman says, chuckling. Akira smiles and it seems genuine.
“Very true. You have a good eye, ma’am,” Akira says. He sounds proud.
“You have a quite the supportive young man here, Kitagawa-san,” The woman says. Akira straightens up very suddenly. People don’t openly acknowledge their relationship often. “You hold onto him, dear.”
It’s only now that Yusuke notices the warmth and mischief in her expression. He smiles earnestly.
“Don’t worry. I intend to.”