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"Could I interest you in a bit of stargazing?"
The request had caught Ryuji so off-guard at first, he had assumed he'd misread it. That Yusuke had accidentally sent him a text meant for Ann, or even Akira. And so he waited ten minutes, expecting some kind of follow-up explaining that, no, Ryuji was not the intended recipient, Yusuke had misclicked before sending, so on and so forth. But when no such message came, he had finally responded with a "Sure?" (The question mark seemed necessary, because goddamn if he wasn't baffled as hell.)
And within minutes, Yusuke had responded with a time, a place, and the request of a warm thermos of something and a blanket. Which, overall, only succeeded in making Ryuji even more confused.
Particularly when the aforementioned time was only an hour away.
He jogged most of the way to the park, the requested items shoved haphazardly in a backpack, and by the time he made it, night had long since fallen.
And there's Yusuke, sitting in the grass with a sketchbook propped on his knees. His head's tilted back, eyes flitting across the skies, serene and silent. And then, moments later, he looks back down at the paper in his lap and begins to draw, his hand moving in fluid, sweeping strokes. And Ryuji doesn't say anything, doesn't do anything for a long moment and just...watches. It almost feels wrong to interrupt it, an artist performing his craft.
But he shifts his weight, crunching the grass underneath his feet, and the spell is broken as Yusuke turns his head towards the noise. "Ah, Ryuji," he smiles, beckoning the blond over with a wave of his pencil. "Please, sit."
"Uh, sure. Right." And so Ryuji does, slinging his bag off his shoulder and flopping down onto the grass beside Yusuke. "So, uh. What's the occasion?"
"No occasion," Yusuke says, turning his eyes back to the sky. "I was merely hoping to gather some inspiration from the night sky and thought it would be nice to have company."
Ryuji snorts. "What, and you thought I was the kinda company you needed?"
"Yes."
Yusuke's response is so automatic and matter-of-fact that it throws Ryuji for a loop, and it takes a second for his brain to actually process that, yes, yes, that was what he'd heard. "What, you--you didn't call Akira or the others first?"
"While I admit I am quite fond of our friends, I thought something like this would be something you might like to experience with me."
"...Huh." That's all Ryuji can manage to say, because there's something about Yusuke's statement that is so touching that it causes Ryuji's chest to clench up tight and warmth to crawl up his cheeks. He's suddenly very grateful for the cover of night.
When Ryuji feels like he can manage words again (it could have been minutes, it could have been hours), he asks, "So what are you workin' on over there, Picasso?"
"I believe van Gogh would be the more apt comparison," Yusuke answers, his attention back on his notebook.
"What do you mean?"
"He is the artist credited with painting The Starry Night," Yusuke replies, "though his rendition is...more impassioned than my own." He sighs, taps the tip of his pencil on the page, and leans back. "Ryuji."
"Wassup."
"Do you ever feel...hm." Yusuke pauses, eyes darting back and forth across the sky, like he's trying to pluck the words from the stars. "Do you ever feel lost?"
"What, like, 'missed your exit on the tram and have to frantically figure out some way back' lost?" It was meant as a joke, but the withering look Yusuke shot him made Ryuji recoil. "Right, that's not what you meant."
"No. Most certainly not." Yusuke tosses his notebook to the side, the pencil quickly following it, and he glances at Ryuji's bag. "Did you bring that blanket I requested?"
A weird transition, but Ryuji's heard weirder (from Yusuke, even). "Uh, yeah, hang on." He pulls the blanket out, a thick plaid thing, old but warm. "What'd you want it fo--"
Yusuke tugs a corner from Ryuji's hand, letting the blanket fall open towards the ground. "Help me lay it out." And with minimal protest, but building confusion, Ryuji obliges. Yusuke takes a seat again, this time on the blanket, and lays back, lacing his fingers across his abdomen. "Better," he murmurs. More loudly, he adds, "Join me?"
Ryuji thinks it's a question, but he can't really tell the difference between that and a request with Yusuke, so he does it anyway, splaying out on the other side of the blanket. He's suddenly grateful he opted for the largest one at his place; even now the space between their bodies is minimal. He tucks his arms behind his head and lets out a slow exhale. "So. Feeling lost, you said?"
"Yes."
"Wanna elaborate?"
For a long moment, Yusuke is silent, so long that Ryuji wonders if he'd even been heard. But just as he opens his mouth to repeat his question, Yusuke sighs. "It's...hard to explain. But...." He frowns, his brow furrowing. "Lately, I feel as if everything has become muddled. And confusing." He turns his head toward Ryuji, and Ryuji can see his dark grey eyes, grey like stormclouds rolling over a horizon, heavy with rain and thunder. Turbulent. Unreadable. His gaze is intense enough to make the blond a little uncomfortable. "Tell me, where do you see yourself in your future?"
"What kinda question's that?" It feels like something someone would ask in an interview, a college entrance exam--not staring up at the stars with someone who may or may not have been a friend. (Ryuji wasn't sure, but for convenience's sake, Yusuke might as well have been one.)
"I thought one that need not be asked prior to meeting the Phantom Thieves." Yusuke shifts, eyes back on the sky. "And I suppose one you probably had a clear answer to during your early highschool years. Before Kamoshida."
Ryuji flinches, visibly recoils, at the mention of him . He hates himself for such a visceral reaction to something so minute, but he can't deny there's some truth to Yusuke's words. "I mean, yeah, I guess I had something of a plan...." He sighs, takes a moment to collect his thoughts, before continuing. "That's.... That's part of why I joined the track team in the first place. I wanted a way to get to college, get a free ride, get a good education, and maybe make something of myself. For Mom's sake, I mean. She's been through so much shit, and I-i...hate how much I make her worry. Stress her out. She--" And Ryuji's chest feels kind of tight, a burning in the back of his throat and nose, but he shoves it down and covers it up with a short mirthless laugh. "God, she...really got a raw deal in all this. Her dumbass son tries to do something good, ends up becoming a grade-A screw-up and a delinquent to boot."
Yusuke hums in response but says nothing.
There's a long silence that hangs in the air, as Ryuji waits expectantly for...something. He's not sure what exactly. But when it becomes clear Yusuke wasn't going to say anything, Ryuji prompts, "What about you?"
"I...." Yusuke trails off almost immediately. He opens and closes his mouth several times, as if something is on the tip of his tongue but flutters away before he can grasp the thought. Finally, he says, "I had always just assumed I would follow in the footsteps of Sens--" He catches himself, quick amending his sentence, "Madarame." (The name is laced with such venom that Ryuji is suddenly relieved that he isn't on Yusuke's shit list.) "But now, I'm.... I don't know. It's difficult to feel the spark that once fueled my art, spurred me into creation. Everything I touch feels so...lifeless. A facsimile of what it should be. A shoddy imitation." He reaches a hand up towards the sky, flexing and extending his fingers. "In fact, that's part of why I came here tonight. I hoped that perhaps engaging in activities I wouldn't normally might help me recover my lost passion. I've always found the night sky beautiful, pinpricks of white dotting an inky expanse. There's been something so picturesque about it, but I've never attempted to capture it myself. And so I thought I might give it a shot." He sighs and drops his arm, letting his hand flop to the blanket. (Ryuji is acutely aware of how close it is to his hip.) "But I fear even such a sight as this is lost on me; my canvas cannot capture the feelings that I wish to weave into it. ...It's altogether quite frustrating. Art has always been a thing that guided me, helped me make sense of myself and the world around me. Without it, I feel...lost. As if I'm adrift at sea, with no lighthouse beacon to lead me."
"Hey, man," Ryuji says, his voice low and comforting, and after a moment's hesitation, he puts his hand on Yusuke's. Something in his stomach flips over as Yusuke, with no hesitation, laces his fingers with Ryuji's, and he has to take a moment to collect himself before speaking. "Maybe we're all kinda like that."
"What do you mean?"
Ryuji chuckles. "The Phantom Thieves, I mean. Shit, we all had something that we kinda followed before we joined...all of this," he says, waving his other hand vaguely. "Like things we cared about, or people. Something that kinda drove us into action. But now we're all kinda stuck with each other in this weird situation. Not in a bad way, but more like...." He searches for the right words. "I guess we're kind of each other's lighthouses?" Yusuke frowns, clearly puzzled, and Ryuji goes on, "Like us, as a team. We all sorta guide each other to be better people, and help others, and beat the tar out of shitty adults that wanna screw everyone over. And I'm...I'm a little bitter that track fell apart, yeah, but I don't think...I don't think I would be as happy as I am now if none of this had happened. I don't really regret everything if it means I could meet people like you guys." Ryuji squeezes Yusuke's hand. "You all kinda ground me, y'know? You help me figure out what I'm supposed to be doing here, even when I'm not really sure."
Yusuke is silent for a long time. Ryuji thinks he's grown used to these extended pauses, but after such a confession, he panics and immediately stammers out, "That was dumb, that was really dumb. I'm bad at words."
"No, that was brilliant ." And Yusuke squeezes Ryuji's hand back, sending something like a shockwave up Ryuji's arm that settles in his chest and wraps around his heart. "I've never...considered it in that light, but that's incredibly accurate." He smiles, a real one that reaches his eyes, and murmurs, "Thank you, Ryuji. I appreciate that."
"Yeah, uh, no problem, man." Ryuji turns his head away, heat rising up his neck and cheeks, and even in the dark, he's sure Yusuke can see how flustered he is. The words had just come out with little thought, but honestly, he did feel the others had become something of a rock, a place where he could ground himself when everything got too fucked up for him to handle on his own. He just...hadn't expected anyone else to see him that way.
"Did you happen to bring a thermos?"
Yanked out of his thoughts by Yusuke's voice, Ryuji takes a second to process what he asked. "Oh-- Oh, yeah. Hang on, lemme get it." He sits up and drags over his bag, pulling out a thick blue container. He pops off the cup 'lid' and steam wafts into the air, curling up in smoky tendrils. Pouring the warm liquid into the cup, he says, "Green tea's the only thing we had that'd work--that okay?"
"Perfect," Yusuke nods, taking the cup as Ryuji offers it to him. He sips delicately, closing his eyes as he hums his approval. "Excellent. Did you make this?"
"E-er, my mom did, actually."
"Send her my regards, then." He passes the cup back to Ryuji, then waves a hand vaguely at the sky. "Are you familiar with the constellations of the summer sky?"
Ryuji blinks blankly; that...wasn't a question that anyone had ever asked him before. "I mean...not really? Mighta discussed a handful in school, but I never really paid attention."
Yusuke clucked his tongue. "How could you not? The stories they hold are fascinating ."
"I dunno, I guess I just never found them that interesting? I mean, stars are pretty, but some of those legends and shit are pretty dull."
"Perhaps sometime you might allow me to change your mind?"
Ryuji snorted. "You gonna call me out here at stupid o'clock at night again?"
"If you'd allow me, I very well might." And that sly smile on Yusuke's face has Ryuji's stomach leaping up into his chest once again.
"...I mean, yeah, I guess I might like that."