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Akira is a pretty cool dude. He seems so removed from all of the trappings of adolescence – lust, panic, awkwardness running through his bones at every move – and that makes it easy for Ryuji to trust him with all of his own painful insecurities.
One day towards the end of summer vacation, he heads over to Leblanc, catches Yusuke’s dark head of hair bent over a sketchbook at one of the tables, and pauses. He has half a mind to sidle over next to him and ask what he’s drawing, but he’s never really understood art.
Instead, he peeks up the stairs and catches Akira throwing quips back and forth with the newest member of their group, Futaba, both of them with old-fashioned controllers in their hands.
It doesn’t feel right, busting into Akira’s room and asking him to hang out when he’s obviously busy with another person, so the blonde heads back downstairs and stops at Yusuke’s table.
Before Ryuji can ask him what he’s doing, Yusuke snaps up and holds his sketchbook above his head, a scowl of frustration on his face. “What could be missing? I am spectacularly close to a breakthrough.”
“Kid,” Sojiro gruffly scoffs, “Keep it down in the shop.”
Yusuke ignores him, as is his way. Before the boss can kick him out, Ryuji grabs Yusuke’s arm gently and says, “Dude. Relax. Put your shit away and let’s get something to eat. You prolly just need to take a break.”
As if on cue, Yusuke’s stomach rumbles, and he sits down primly, brows still knitted together. “Perhaps you are correct. Still, I must admit that my financial situation is too meager to afford curry this afternoon.”
Ryuji just rolls his eyes. The boss’s curry couldn’t be more than six or seven hundred yen a plate. Then again, it is close to midterms. Maybe Yusuke has a few big projects due soon. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got you.”
Bowing his head, Yusuke says, “I am most indebted to you, Ryuji.”
With a full-body shudder, Ryuji says, “Yusuke. You don’t have to be all formal with me. Hell, weren’t you just sniping at me for my lack of grace yesterday?”
“That was a different matter entirely,” Yusuke muses softly, snapping his sketchbook closed and tucking it into his bag. “You were in need of reprimand then. Now I am thanking you for your kindness.”
It occurs to Ryuji that Yusuke had been trained this way. He has no brain-to-mouth filter, so he blurts out, “Madarame always make you talk like a perfect l’il rich kid?” As soon as the words are out of his mouth, Yusuke wilts and he feels instantly apologetic. “Fuck, shit, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
Yusuke smiles self-depreciatively. “You meant it, however. Truly, your lack of tact is astounding.” He folds his hands on the table after motioning to Sojiro that both of them would like curry and drinks. “It also does not change the fact that you are right, unfortunately.”
Awkward silence falls between them before Ryuji gets tired of feeling like shit, so he ruffles his own bangs and says, “Sorry. Seriously. You’re a little weird, y’know, that’s all, but it’s just how you are. You don’t gotta change the way you talk to me. Just takes some gettin’ used to.”
Yusuke wiggles his nose a bit and quirks his head curiously. “I am uncertain whether I am supposed to take that positively or not.”
“It was meant to be nice,” Ryuji grumbles, shutting himself up with a gulp of soda as soon as Sojiro puts the glass in front of him. “Just sayin’ it ain’t your fault that I’m acting like an ass. Honestly, I think it’s cool how you do things at your pace, regardless of what other people think. The way you speak is part of that.”
A moment later, steaming plates of curry are placed in front of them and Yusuke smiles. “That was rather insightful of you, Ryuji. For you, I suppose.”
“Hey,” Ryuji balks. “I’m bein’ nice here.” Both of them chuckle, though, so the light-hearted jab is taken as just that. “Well, if you’re back to talkin’ shit, guess it’s all water under the bridge.”
“There was no defecation involved. I was simply stating the facts.”
“Shut up and eat your curry, Yusuke.”
//
Akira, Ann, and Ryuji are sitting around flipping through magazines one Sunday when Ann suddenly points an art show out in an article, and notes Yusuke’s name. He’s still often associated with Madarame, who is behind bars in prison, but for the most part, the critics are praising his talent instead of Yusuke's.
Ryuji is the first one to say something about all the bad rep, though. “Man, it’s been months since that shit with Madarame went down. How long are people gonna bring him up at Yusuke’s exhibits?”
The brunette hums softly, Morgana coming over and curling right next to his de facto owner. “We all know how difficult it is to get away from negative pasts. Madarame had a lot of influence in the art world. As good as Yusuke is, it’ll just take time.”
Ann quirks an eyebrow, feeling like she’s missing some piece of the puzzle. “That’s true, but since when do you care, Ryuji?”
“Yusuke’s part of the team,” Ryuji insists quietly, his tone somber. “Ain’t it our job to support him and make sure things are lookin’ up for the guy? He doesn’t even go to our school, so most of the time, he’s all alone there at Kosei without people watchin’ his back.”
Ann and Akira share a look before smiling at him. The gray-eyed young man says, “You’re right. Why don’t you come with me to his showcase next weekend, then?”
“Aww man,” Ryuji says, feeling skittish all of the sudden. “You know what happened the last time I went to one of those things. I don’t have anything formal enough to wear, and Yusuke’s just gonna talk shit about me for being lost, anyways. What’s the point?”
“Just think of it as going to support him,” Ann says, slapping Ryuji roughly on the back and he coughs. “I have a shoot, so I can’t go, but you two have fun.”
Akira gives Ryuji some sort of weird look, one of the many that Ryuji cannot read, and the blonde wonders what he’s gotten himself into.
//
On the ride there, Ryuji chatters with Akira about the latest news. People they’ve helped, what they should do next. For one reason or another, Akira brings up all these date spots he’s been reading about in magazines and Ryuji grins.
“What, for your girlfriend? That’s sweet, dude.”
Akira’s look is one of supreme puzzlement. “Huh? I don’t have a girlfriend.”
Though the very idea is baffling to Ryuji, his cheeks flare pink and he apologizes brashly, saying, “Shit, sorry, dude. Uh, boyfriend?”
“I’m not dating anyone,” Akira replies, shaking his head gently. “I just think it’s fun to look up cool places around town. Thought you’d be interested in them, that’s all.”
“What for?”
The taller youth leans back in his seat and hums strangely. His tone makes Ryuji a little nervous. “If you’re not, it’s fine.”
He hates when Akira retreats into his shell like that. It gives Ryuji goosebumps.
//
They walk into the art hall and Ryuji is floored at all the colors. Yusuke’s work is typically abstract, but there are several study pieces as well – landscapes, mostly – and dressed in his little pinstriped jacket, he looks even taller and more regal than usual. If Ryuji’s pulse skips, he blames it on feeling so overwhelmingly out of place. The last time he’d been to a museum, they’d been hot on Madarame’s tail, and he’d been furious and frustrated with Yusuke for protecting his criminal mentor. Without the filter of simmering rage, it’s a lot easier to fidget and feel bad that he’d come in jeans and the jacket that he’d bought from the convenience store.
He chances a glance at Akira before they walk across the room to Yusuke's side. The dude is totally inscrutable and completely chill—screw you, Ryuji thinks, scowling at Akira’s ability to be wholly unaffected by the atmosphere and stay totally suave.
“Yusuke,” Akira greets quietly, smiling as dark blue eyes sweep over to him and light up as the taller youth catches their gazes. “Hey.”
“Hello,” Yusuke greets both of them in return, but his smile is a bit smug as he turns to Ryuji. “You came.” The words are an echo of one of their earlier exchanges months ago, and Ryuji’s about ready to bristle and scoff at Yusuke when a pale hand lands on his shoulder. “Akira’s been to my dorm since I finished my portfolio, but I suppose I could take time out of my busy schedule to educate you on the fine arts.”
Yusuke isn’t usually sarcastic—most times, his tone is about as flat as a brick—so it takes a minute for Ryuji to realize that he’s joking. “Man, you have got to work on your delivery,” he says at last, smiling. “Yes, yes. I’m so ready for art to blow my mind, or whatever. Lead the way.”
“I’ll catch up with you guys in a bit,” Akira says, ambling off with light steps, and Ryuji nods absently. Yusuke’s already talking, and all the terminology is going over his head, but he tries his best to be a good friend and listen.
//
Yusuke really only rambles about inspiration and artistry for a few minutes. Most of the time, he lets Ryuji look at all the artwork and stare in silence. When the blonde comes to a stop, he frowns. “Is something wrong?”
“Nah,” Ryuji says, spinning on his heels and rubbing the back of his neck. “You know I’m not cut out for all this thinkin’ stuff. S’pretty amazing, what you can do, y’know? I don’t have to get it to know that.” His dark brown eyes rest on a rendered charcoal drawing that looks suspiciously like that the interior of Leblanc. “Art gets in your head. Sorta weird, how it works. Kinda like the Metaverse.”
The taller youth hums. “Very astute. Art leaves much up to interpretation, both on the side of the artist and the viewer. To come to such a realization is understanding enough, Ryuji.”
It’s another one of Yusuke’s loopy compliments, so Ryuji just sighs and smiles. “Right, right. Thanks for puttin’ up with me bein’ dumb and invitin’ me or whatever.”
“You are not unintelligent,” Yusuke insists in his stubborn way. “Perhaps a bit crass and quick to jump to conclusions, but I am grateful for you coming to visit.” He joins his hands in front of his waist, the action making him look spindly and tired. “It is pleasant to see a familiar face at these gatherings. The media can be rather…oppressive when I am by myself.”
Ryuji remembers the dark glares of his teammates when the track team had been disbanded the year previous because of his actions, and Yusuke’s mentality becomes clear to him. “I gotcha,” he says, scowling at the thought. “But hey, Akira and I are here for you anytime, dude. Wanna grab something to eat after this is over?”
“I would be amenable to that, yes,” Yusuke says and Ryuji rolls his eyes at the formality. After a moment, he coughs and says, “That sounds…fun.”
The phraseology is so simple that the words sound alien coming from Yusuke’s mouth. Ryuji bursts out laughing, and the gallery’s patrons give him withering looks at the sound, but Yusuke’s smiling privately next to him, so he decides that he doesn’t care.
//
When Ryuji finds himself alone with Futaba, rambling about the latest goings-on at her request, she stops in place when he brings up dinner with Yusuke for the third time. It had been memorable – Yusuke and the server had gotten into several dead stares trying to figure out what it was, exactly, that he’d wanted to order – and Ryuji keeps snickering every time he thinks about it.
“Enough about your date with Inari,” Futaba scoffs, rolling her eyes. “You two weirdoes deserve each other. I’m looking for the good scoop. Like, whether Akira got hit with chalk in school, or how Ann is still a ridiculous lesbian who can’t get up the nerve to ask her friend out to the amusement park.”
Ryuji’s mind reels. “What?” He’s caught somewhere back on the date part. His brain will latch onto the other bit about Ann in a few minutes. “What’re you talkin’ about, a date?”
Futaba has this way of looking at people like they are dirt on the bottom of her shoe and it makes Ryuji restless. Her and Akira are similar that way. “Y’know, Ryuji, most people consider eating out with the same person on a regular basis, having a good time, and wanting to eventually make a move on somebody—even if it’s Yusuke—dates.” She fiddles around with her phone for a moment, already disinterested in Ryuji’s gape-mouthed reactions. “You could be ace like me and Akira, but my instincts tell me otherwise. So?”
“So, what?” Ryuji’s reactions are just automatic at this point – his brain is still totally lost in this conversation.
“Are you gonna ask him if he wants to be your boyfriend or not?”
With that, conversation completely skids to a halt, and Ryuji only vaguely remembers grunting at Akira a few times as his friend sees him off to the station and tells him to be careful on the way home.
//
“Yusuke, I got a weird question for you,” Ryuji starts the next time he’s sitting at the counter of the beef bowl place.
Yusuke is so busy delicately picking at the contents of his bowl like the thing might bite him if his face gets too close to the rice that he barely hears the words. “Hmm.”
Exasperated, the blonde says, “Man, it’s a beef bowl. It’s not a science project.”
“But the bowl has nearly symmetrical placement of all of its’ ingredients. Truly marvelous.” He picks a grain of rice up and points to the slices of beef. “I’ve eaten quite a bit, but I’m trying to maintain the balance. A quite difficult task, I assure you.”
Ryuji just rolls his eyes. “I’m so sure.” Before he can talk himself out of asking, he says, “Are we dating? Is this a date?”
“Technically speaking, a date is a purposeful social engagement, possibly with romantic inclinations. In such terms, then yes, I suppose that this is a date.”
Brown eyes swerve over to Yusuke, who seems unperturbed by his textbook admission of the fact that yes, they apparently are on a date, albeit perhaps not one that’s supposed to lead to holding hands and kissing or something.
“Does anything phase you?” Ryuji mumbles the question and Yusuke quirks one finely arched eyebrow. “Never mind, I already know that’s just how you are.” He leans back on his stool and goes back over the evidence. He likes Yusuke well enough—he’s more than just a friend-of-a-friend now, and Ryuji knows that he enjoys his company. Something about his brazen and disconnected interactions with other people makes Ryuji feel at ease next to him, which is why he keeps inviting the other guy out.
And, if he’s being entirely honest, he is occasionally jealous of how objectively attractive Yusuke is. Due largely to his upbringing, he always sits with his spine perfectly straight, which emphasizes how tall he is. His features are all very traditionally handsome; sharp nose, almond-shaped eyes, dark hair, dark eyes, pale skin.
In contrast, bow-legged, bum-kneed Ryuji feels somewhat out of place next to Yusuke, but Yusuke acts like they’ve always belonged like this, and it makes Ryuji’s skin burn hot when the taller youth smiles at him.
So, maybe Ryuji’s been thinking about whether these are the romantic types of dates or not since that conversation with Futaba; sue him.
Before he can stop himself, Ryuji reaches out and pushes Yusuke’s bangs out of his eyes. Yusuke looks at him with a curious glint to his eyes and Ryuji retracts his hand before he can linger.
“Let’s just eat,” Ryuji says at last, cheeks on fire as he shovels food into his mouth and ignores the way Yusuke stares at him.
//
“Akira,” Ryuji starts, blazing ahead even though he’s ninety-nine percent sure he’d woken his friend up, “I think I might have the hots for Yusuke.”
A long yawn on the other end of the line and a muffled quip from Morgana tell Ryuji what he’d already suspected—that both of them had been dozing before Akira had answered the phone. “You had to call me at one in the morning to tell me this?” Akira doesn’t sound upset, exactly, but he is definitely urging Ryuji to spit out whatever it is that’s actually bothering him so that he can go back to sleep.
“I mean, it’s Yusuke, dude,” Ryuji rambles quietly, hoping desperately that his mom doesn’t overhear him panicking and bust into his room, asking what’s wrong. “He’s a good lookin’ guy, that much I can admit, but I’m startin’ to find his awkward personality traits cute and shit. Not to mention, I didn’t think we were goin’ on dates until like, ten days ago, when Futaba brought it up.”
Akira mumbles something under his breath and Morgana replies, so Ryuji figures he’s going downstairs to get a glass of water or something. “Alright. You’re freaking out about this because…?”
“Because I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, dude,” Ryuji whines lowly, feeling close to hysteric tears. “I’m just me, y’know? I don’t have any real future goals, and Yusuke used to like Ann, right? So, like, I’m just feelin’ fuckin’ useless. Like, I sorta wish I could just forget about all the other stuff, about how it’d be nice if we could be more and just appreciate him, or his art, or something. It was easier when we just picked at each other and I thought he was just a prissy jerk.” He trails off for a moment and Akira hums. “He’s just an awkward guy trying to make something of himself in a world that wants to see him fail, and he’s so much cooler about it than I am. How else am I supposed to feel about it?”
The brunette on the other line yawns again for a moment before he says, “Why don’t you try asking him out before jumping to conclusions?” The suggestion silences Ryuji’s tumble of words for several long moments. “Also, one correction—Yusuke never liked Ann. At least, not romantically. He was, in his own words, aesthetically pleased by her. He said the same thing to me last week. Sketched me a few times for studies.”
“He’s never drawn me,” Ryuji petulantly mutters and Akira snorts.
“Maybe if you got up the nerve to ask him out, he would offer. He knows how you feel about art.” Ryuji admits that he’s right about that. “Just talk to him, Ryuji. If nothing else, it’ll answer a few questions. Good luck.”
“Yeah,” Ryuji shakily replies. “Thanks, man. Good night. Sorry ‘bout wakin’ you up.”
“S’okay,” Akira mumbles sleepily. “G’night, Ryuji.”
//
Akira is sipping on a smoothie while he’s walking through the train station when his eyes catch Yusuke’s in front of the clothing store he lurks in front of when he’s looking for inspiration.
The artist’s eyes are somewhat lost today – he doesn’t seem to be people watching at all. If anything, he looks a little dazed, like a breeze might blow him over. Morgana peeks his head out of the bag when he feels Akira come to a stop and the otherworldly cat scoffs. “Yusuke’s going to get conned, standing around here like that. You wanna see what’s wrong with him?”
“Yeah. Meet you back home in a bit.” Morgana leaps out of the bag at the words and Akira watches his tail swish. He’s gone within two blinks; a feat Akira wishes he could accomplish without fading in or out of the Metaverse.
He tries waving to Yusuke, but the taller youth is so entrapped in his thoughts that he doesn’t see. Finally, Akira sighs and goes to grip him by both shoulders, and Yusuke, predictably, goes into a defensive position.
Good for him, Akira supposes, that his reflexes are so sharp, but not so good for Akira’s left wrist, which hurts like hell, because Yusuke is, quite frankly, much stronger than he appears. His smoothie clatters to the floor and doesn’t spill, luckily.
“Yusuke,” Akira grumbles his name in lieu of saying hello, hoping that his friend will release him now that his eyes are wide with guilt. “Relax.”
“I am most apologetic,” Yusuke says, bowing his head and clinching his hands into fists at his side. Akira holds up his hands, but he bowls forward. “Had I not been so preoccupied, I would have recognized you immediately. That’s no excuse for my actions, but—”
“Yusuke,” Akira says softly, shaking his wrists out and shoving his hands into his pockets after he throws his smoothie cup away. “It’s fine. I’m fine. I was just wondering if you were okay. You were really out of it.”
The artist still looks appalled with himself, but Akira does his best to reassure him that everything’s alright. Once he’s calmed down, Yusuke begins to talk in his usual clipped, business-like tone.
“Ryuji seems to have confessed his affections for me.” Yusuke looks puzzled at the very words he’s saying and Akira works hard not to laugh. The taller boy would take it the wrong way, he’s sure. “A rather confusing feat, I daresay. I had not noticed that he felt romantically inclined towards me, and he left rather suddenly after his confession, insisting that I need not respond if I felt uncomfortable.” With a brooding expression, he pulls a folded bill and some coins from his pocket. “He left me with far too much change in his rush to exit.”
Akira does snort at that. “Yeah, well. Ryuji’s awkward like that. You can give him his money back later.” He starts walking towards the underground mall, grateful that Yusuke follows him like it’s natural. “How did you feel about the confession? If you’re not feeling up to going to Momentos tomorrow for the request, we can reschedule.”
“I found it most intriguing,” Yusuke says and Akira smiles a bit. That’s one word to describe it, the shorter youth thinks. “Ryuji was most insistent that he typically found interest in women, but made sure that I was aware that he found me fascinating. A lot of what he said was garbled and hurried, but the main takeaway seems to be that he would very much like to kiss me and hold hands.” Yusuke’s face colors lightly as he finishes, saying, “He seems to want to court me. Confusing and strange, wouldn’t you admit?”
“Hmm,” Akira hums nonchalantly. “I guess so. But it’s not that strange, right? You two have been meeting up for dinner a few times a week since you joined the team. I kind of thought you two had a good thing going. If you don’t like him, that’s okay, though,” he says, and he means that sincerely. “Things might be awkward for a while until he gets over it, but I know you two are good friends. No matter what, things will be fine, Yusuke.”
“It’s not that I am…uninterested,” Yusuke says, cheeks flushed dark red. Akira finds it refreshing to see him taken off-guard by another person’s actions, instead of vice-versa. “I simply need to evaluate the situation mentally. Besides, he ran away so quickly that I could not help but think that he wanted me to refuse.”
“Ryuji’s just scared that he’s going to mess things up between you guys.” Akira cards through CDs at the shop in the underground mall while tapping his feet. “He’s worried that maybe you two don’t have enough in common to make things work, but I don’t think that’s an issue.”
Yusuke looks affronted at the notion. “Surely not. Our group of social outcasts and miscreants would not have made it this far had we no appreciation for our differences as well as our similarities. The idea is preposterous.”
Akira smiles fondly, reaching out to squeeze Yusuke’s arm lightly. “So, tell him that. Also, when you see him and tell him yes, tell him that you both need to have a real conversation before you make it official. You can tell him that I said that. Oh, and add that he’s an oblivious bisexual. That part’s from Futaba.”
Yusuke nods slowly, taking everything in, seeming to steel himself and make sense of all the new information. He pulls out his phone and walks away from Akira with squared shoulders, so the teenager with glasses considers his work done and he ambles back to the café he calls home.
//
Ryuji barrels into Ann and Akira’s classroom so quickly after the dismissal bell that both of them roll their eyes. He’d probably been camping out on the roof until a minute or two ago, skipping his last period to get over here more quickly.
He has one finger accusingly pointed in Akira’s face, so close that he almost smudges the brunette’s lenses. “You are the worst friend ever.” His cheeks are pink and he’s not actually that mad, so Akira considers it a win. In fact, he’s already smirking victoriously. “Stop grinning, you smug asshole. What the fuck happened to me yesterday?”
“You have a boyfriend now,” Akira sing-songs, and Ann’s eyes sparkle at the new tidbit of information. Ryuji sputters and flushes even darker. “You kiss him with that foul mouth?”
“What? How am I the last to hear about this? Spill, Ryuji!” Ann is bubbly and fond as she elbows their friend in the side. Ryuji wheezes and flops on Akira’s desk, nearly flattening Morgana as he takes a seat.
“I may or may not have asked Yusuke out on a date,” Ryuji grumbles, burying his face in his hands.
“Or fifty,” Akira chimes in and Ryuji silently flips him the bird. “He just asked him out officially last week, and judging by Ryuji’s shocked tone and general impatience to share his business with us, Yusuke accepted yesterday when they went out for dinner.”
“I hate how you know everything,” Ryuji mutters and Akira smirks again. “I suppose you were also the one who told him to share all his thoughts with me about the arrangement and convince me to do the same?”
“A true magician never gives away his secrets,” Akira insists and Ryuji flips him off again.
Ann claps her hands together and beams. “Aww, Ryuji, that’s great. Both of you could use some perking up, and neither of you really have many friends. I look forward to you two being all sappy for each other at every group meeting from now on.”
“Don’t make it weird!” Ryuji yells at her as she skips off, cheeks still burning hot. Something suddenly dawns on him, weeks too late, that Akira had been hinting at the nature of their almost-relationship back at Yusuke’s showcase. “I’m never confiding in you with any secret ever again.”
“That’s good,” Akira says, slinging his bag over his shoulder as Ryuji follows him out of the classroom so that they can both go home. “I really don’t want to know about what you and Yusuke get up to when you’re alone, thanks.”
Ryuji sputters and coughs, trying to defend himself, but Morgana eventually just scoffs and says, “Ryuji, give it up. You know Akira’s just messing with you. You make it way too easy.”
Akira’s gray eyes glint mischievously and Ryuji sighs, shoulders slumping as he finally shuts his mouth.
//
“Ah, don’t worry ‘bout greetin’ anybody,” Ryuji says. “Ma’s not home. She works nights on Fridays.”
“Very well then,” Yusuke says primly. “You should bring me over on a different afternoon so that I can provide her with a gift. It’s only proper, now that we are romantically entangled.”
The word entangled makes him think about the last time he’d been alone with Yusuke, bumping elbows at the diner and making out against the wall in the dark, and the memory makes Ryuji flush hot with embarrassment. “Dude, don’t say shit like, romantically entangled. You can say dating. Or boyfriend,” he says, stumbling over the last word. “I mean, s’what we are. Boyfriends.” He reaches for Yusuke’s hand, and Yusuke reaches back, though he looks disdainful.
“I have ink under my fingernails,” Yusuke says, but he doesn’t stop Ryuji from gripping him tightly by the hand and dragging him up to his room.
“S’not a problem, art nerd,” Ryuji teases lightly, looping one arm around Yusuke’s neck and just staring at him once the door is closed behind them. They stare at each other for a long moment before Ryuji kisses him chastely on the lips. “You ever wanna draw me, or am I like, not as visually striking as Ann or Akira?”
“You are just as pleasing to me as the two of them, albeit in a different fashion,” Yusuke says and Ryuji rolls his eyes, even though his hands drift to Yusuke’s narrow waist. “I did not think you would be fond of sitting still for a portrait, to be truthful. Even now, you’re too restless for me to get my sketchbook, are you not?”
“Well, duh,” Ryuji says, skin running warmer as Yusuke’s spindly arms come around his backside. “This is us time. Why’d you wanna draw me when we could kiss instead?”
Yusuke chortles. “Right, then. And that is why I seem to never have the time to draw you, Ryuji.”
“Aww, shaddup,” Ryuji grumbles, pulling Yusuke down for a longer kiss. “We’ll have time for your artsy stuff full of squishy feelings later.”
“My artwork is most certainly not squishy,” Yusuke starts indignantly, but he’s cut off by Ryuji’s mouth warm over his again, and the two of them give up on talking for quite some time.