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Okuyasu likes stories. He always has. Some of the few memories he has of his mother are of her reading to him when he was little. After she died, Keicho would sometimes tell him stories when he had a hard time getting to sleep or when they were both really sad and missing her. He held on to his picture books after he taught himself to read and eventually graduated onto books without pictures, even though they were harder. Reading is still pretty hard sometimes, but he’s graduated onto watching TV and movies as well because, in the end, they’re stories too.
And any kind of story he can escape into is a good one.
Ever since his brother shot him with that arrow and the Hand manifested, his whole life has kind of felt like some sort of fantastical story.
There he was, an average high schooler, when suddenly… is probably how it would start, he thinks, staring at the moon lit ceiling. He’s finding it hard to sleep again, for mostly the same reasons, except with one big change.
At night, his thoughts tend to run wild, having a hard time quieting down so he can sleep. Lately they’ve been dwelling a lot on his life and stories and Josuke and how it all fits together. Tonight, it’s much the same except he’s in Josuke’s bed, warm beneath the covers as Josuke sleeps soundly beside him.
He had come over to hang out and was going to walk home as usual, but a heavy snowfall had started, and Tomoko had insisted he spend the night. Usually he slept on a spare futon, but Josuke had gotten all huffy about there being a draft on the floor and it being so cold out, so Okuyasu found himself agreeing to sharing a bed with his best friend.
In most stories this would…lead to things…
If the situation with their stands made his life an action movie, then his friendship with Josuke would easily be…well, some sort of subplot, he guesses. The way they met was definitely movie worthy, with the way they first fought then got together as best friends. He knows lots of stories where friends save the world together. Usually, though, the main guy gets a girlfriend. It sometimes feels forced, but he supposes saving the world earns you the right to settle down afterwards.
Girls seem to like Josuke, who’s good looking and caring and charismatic and definite main character material. Okuyasu used to feel a bit jealous and would complain about not having any of the attention. It started off as real complaining, but the more he thought about it the more he realized exactly where his jealously was…
Josuke shifts next to him on the mattress. The moonlight coming through the window and bouncing off the thick blanket of snow lights the room in pale tones of blue and Okuyasu thinks that this is exactly how this sort of scene would look in a movie.
There’s less than a pillow’s worth of space between them. Josuke’s facing him now, eyes relaxed and shut and cast in shadow. His lips are parted ever so slightly and Okuyasu can feel the faint gusts of his exhales against his skin when he turns his head to look at him.
Sometimes in stories, the plot that happens with the best friend is much more compelling than what happens with the girlfriend. It’s not always the case, but sometimes Okuyasu finds himself rooting for the hero and friend to get together instead. But that doesn’t happen very often unless the friend is the girl. When the friend is a boy, it never happens.
Which is a shame because, in his story, he’d very much like to be together with the boy he saved the world with. He’s glad they’re friends, but he knows there could be more, if he only had some sort of reference of how to go about it, he’d try. He turns to look back at the ceiling and sighs. Something in his chest feels heavy, the blue light reflecting not just the snow but his mood as well.
He’s used to wearing his emotions on his sleeve. He laughs, cries, yells, all at the drop of a hat. But this feels like something that needs to be guarded for a bit more, just to see how the tale unfolds.
Maybe someday they’ll fight another enemy stand user and when they’re done they’ll trade jokes and Josuke will look at him in that special way that people in stories do and he’ll just know and then they can kiss in front of a sunset… or maybe a background explosion, he thinks. That would be way cooler.
Josuke makes a little snuffling sound and the bed rustles with movement again. Okuyasu looks back over to see that Josuke is now much closer. If the room was brighter, he’d be able to see Josuke’s long eyelashes or whether his thick bottom lip would be dry or glistening. His heart trips a little bit in his chest as the back of Josuke’s hand comes to rest gently against his arm.
He likes action movies, don’t get him wrong. But sometimes he likes the softer stuff. Lately he’s been gravitating to stories that feature confessions. Lots of them are written for girls, so he doesn’t talk about them much, too embarrassed to admit he enjoys them. They make his heart hurt in a good kind of way though. It’s a kind of hurt that makes you feel better and less alone. He’s been mentally making notes about them. But he’s kind of hung up on exactly what to do because, again, most of them are girl and guy stories. Oh well, he’s admitted he’s not quite ready for that yet anyhow.
This is good for now.
Too good.
He’s suddenly warmer and heavier and Josuke has wiggled up against his side. One arm curls possessively around Okuyasu’s ribs as his chin bumps against Okuyasu’s shoulder. There’s a lot of movement happening and Okuyasu’s heart is pounding, but he doesn’t get to dwell on it long because Josuke shifts again, digging his elbow right into the meat of Okuyasu’s stomach.
“Oof,” he chokes out, trying in vain to keep quiet.
The sound makes Josuke prop up a bit on his arm. “Whuzzat?” he mumbles. He’s never been graceful when it comes to waking up. His other arm is still wrapped around Okuyasu and his eyes are fuzzy with sleep as he peers down through the dim light to where he’s lying.
“Uh,” Okuyasu says, without an ounce of elegance on his part either.
“Oh, s’you,” Josuke says, flopping back down and snuggling closer. “Warm,” he states bluntly. “Okay?”
It’s only one word, but the inflection of question is there so Okuyasu nods, eyes widening when he realizes that the action causes Josuke’s nose to brush along the skin of his cheek.
“Y-yeah, s’okay,” he whispers back.
Josuke hums happily in response, sighing out something that sounds vaguely like a sleepy murmur of Okuyasu’s name.
Okuyasu settles in, terrified but loving the weight and warmth of Josuke against him.
If this were a story, this would be a good chapter ending, he thinks, eyes growing heavy despite his heart having been pounding a few moments before. It feels like both a good ending to the day and a good promise of a slow wake up tomorrow.
But that’s a whole new chapter with whole new possibilities. If they’re both there to face them together though, Okuyasu thinks, it couldn’t be anything but a happy ending.