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“So, next week, huh?”
Souji hesitated. Then he nodded. His impending departure loomed over his loved ones, casting its shadow over them each differently. Souji knew that the absence of his new friends and family would leave an empty recess in his chest that would undoubtedly spill over with aching before the train even left the station. The simple conclusion that he’d come to after a year of not-so-simple experiences was that he didn’t want to leave. He wanted to stay in Inaba more than anything. He was drowning in his desire to keep coming home to Nanako and Dojima at night, to keep laughing under his breath listening to Yosuke and Chie bicker, to keep politely fending off Rise’s advances, to keep watching Kanji and Naoto’s awkwardly blooming relationship with a childlike curiosity to, God, even keep taste testing for Yukiko. He would do anything to stay. And it hurt like hell to know he couldn’t.
He pulled off his hoodie and glanced at Yosuke across the bedroom. His house was quiet at this hour, Nanako and Dojima long since retired to their bedrooms for the night, and after playing video games for so long his eyes burned with strain, Souji declared it was their bedtime as well. It wasn’t the first time Yosuke had crashed on the futon with him, but it almost certainly would be the last. Souji couldn’t entertain that heartbreaking possibility right now and quickly shoved it down.
Yosuke’s shoulders were tight as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the tops of his thighs, and looked around the bedroom like it was a memorial to the last year they’d spent in here. In many ways, it was. The Investigation Team’s belongings were scattered about like it was their bedrooms too-- Chie’s jacket, Kanji’s spare phone charger, some of Yosuke’s old homework, things of that nature. Proof, really. Proof that yes, we were here, and yes, we did normal teenage things that weren’t fighting monsters, and yes, this will always be our home, no matter how far we stray.
Love was a promise, and Souji’s love was no exception. He promised that they would always be special, even if they had to be special from a distance.
He reached up under his t-shirt and unclipped his binder, sliding it off in preparation for sleep. “Yeah,” He sighed, “Next week.”
“That’s crazy.” Yosuke replied tersely. He looked over and met Souji’s gaze. His eyes softened enough to say, it’s not you that I’m mad at, it’s the situation.
Souji’s returned with, I know you better than anyone, you don’t need to clarify.
Yosuke cleared his throat and looked away. “Are you doing anything with Nanako and Dojima? Like, before you go?”
Souji shrugged and tossed the binder in the general direction of his clothes hamper, stretching his arms up above his head and taking his first real deep breath of the day now that his lungs were free of compression. “He mentioned getting dinner. Do you want to come?”
“If I’m not working, sure.”
“We can do it around your schedule, don’t worry.” Souji offered quickly, maybe too quickly, but Yosuke looked grateful anyway.
“Yeah, okay. Thanks.”
“Of course. And I’m sure Nanako will want you to come as well.” He smiled, and tried very hard not to let that it falter when he wondered if Yosuke would ever come around anymore once he was gone. He didn’t want Nanako to go back to being alone with Dojima all the time.
Yosuke snorted and moved over to lay on the far side of the futon. Again, shoving such unwanted, harrowing thoughts down, Souji flipped the light off and crossed the dark room to lie down as well. Through his open window, he could hear the distant, calm sounds of nighttime in Inaba. He would miss that, too.
The futon creaked as they both shifted around and attempted to get comfortable under the shared blanket. “Hey,” Souji said through a yawn, “remember the first time you spent the night here and--”
“Oh, shut up.”
“--and you slept on the couch because you were too scared to--”
“I’m going to push you out of this bed, dude.”
Souji laughed quietly and opened his eyes back up. He couldn’t see Yosuke’s face in the dark, but knew by the sound of his voice that he was facing him.
If there was ever going to be a time to say it, this would be it. But Souji’s voice was good at its disappearing act, so he didn’t even entertain the possibility. He couldn’t ruin this.
“Maybe, y’know,” Yosuke cleared his throat, “I could visit you. Like, where you live.”
Souji’s eyebrows raised. “You’d do that?”
“Pfft, of course. What am I gonna do, just never hang out with you again?”
Souji shrugged. He knew Yosuke couldn’t see it, but hoped the creaking of the mattress would give it away.
“We’re partners,” Yosuke said, like it explained everything. And in some ways, it did.
“I don’t wanna talk about this anymore.” Souji muttered. Over the sound of the mattress creaking as he rolled over to lie on his back, he could barely make out Yosuke mutter okay, sorry. “No, I’m sorry, that wasn’t-- I don’t know. I just hate thinking about it.”
Yosuke was uncharacteristically silent for a long moment. His voice was brittle. “If you don’t want me to visit you, you can just say so.”
“No!” Souji regretted the volume of his exclamation and quickly quieted down. He even started chuckling at the absurdity of the mere concept of not wanting Yosuke around. “No, no, that’s not what I meant. God, no. Of course I want you to visit, it’s leaving that I don’t like thinking about.”
The relief was clear in Yosuke’s tone as he laughed too, “Okay, yeah. Jesus, dude, you scared the shit out of me.”
“I’d love for you to visit, Yosuke,” Souji reassured him, “Provided you could handle being around my parents without going insane.”
“And I could get the time off work.”
“Yes, I suppose that’s true. And entrance exams aren’t too far off for either of us, hm?” The smile on Souji’s face faltered. Of course it couldn’t just be as easy as just a train ride and boom , he’d be there. Of course things had to be difficult. Why wouldn’t they be? After all, you’d think he would have learned his lesson about that after the past year.
“But hey,” Yosuke cut in quickly, “We’ll make it work. Right?”
His smile was full again. He couldn’t spend the last night he had with Yosuke spiraling off into his own negative thoughts. “Yes. We’ll make it work.”
“What are you most excited for? Like, about getting back home?”
Souji pondered this for a moment. “Hm. Honestly, I miss my old bed.”
Yosuke snorted, “Really? That’s it?”
“I’m serious, it’s very comfortable. And much bigger than a futon.”
“Probably doesn’t creak as much as this thing, too.”
“Sometimes, I wake myself up shifting around on this. It’s ridiculous.”
“Yeah.” Yosuke rolled over onto his back, inadvertently demonstrating the noisiness. “It really sucks, huh.”
“We could always hang out at your house and avoid it altogether, you know.”
“Hell no. Being here means getting a break from my dad. And Teddie ,” Yosuke sneered.
“I figured you would have warmed up to him by now.”
“You can only warm up so much to someone who’s living in your closet, man. Trust me, I’m sure he appreciates the alone time.”
Souji hummed thoughtfully, “Hm, permission to make a joke about Teddie masturbating?”
“Permission denied ,” Yosuke said firmly and chuckled.
“It was worth a shot,” Souji grinned and rolled over onto his back as well. In doing so, their shoulders brushed against each other. He might have jerked away if this was any other night. He could not remember a moment in which he and Yosuke had ever touched, lying in this bed with one another. Yet to his surprise, Yosuke did not pull away either. Perhaps he hadn’t noticed. Souji thought bitterly, maybe he isn’t wasting his time thinking about it because he’s normal, unlike me, and it’s no big deal to him.
See, this was where the shame lived-- not in the desire for more, but the pitiable willingness to settle. It would be this, the line of contact traced from shoulder to elbow, and it would be the world to him tonight. And most likely for many nights to come.
It wasn’t even living off of scraps. It was the crumbs that came off the scraps, feeding the open wound shaped like a stomach. Which is to say that something is better than nothing. Which is to say that sometimes you only notice how big an empty space is when you try to fill it. These are roads that lead to failure. These are the pretty ways of framing being in love with your straight best friend, but the reality never changes. They were two boys touching shoulders. Certainly nothing more, and nothing less.
Yosuke turned his head to face Souji. “You’re thinking pretty loudly over there.”
Souji turned his head as well. “Am I?”
“Yeah,” he said, quieter then, “Want to talk about it?”
They were so close then that Souji could feel the drift of Yosuke’s exhale on his shoulder. Closest , he thought, this is the closest we have ever been . The weight of possibility and improbability and the finality of tonight crushed him. “I really don’t,” he told him.
Yosuke hummed in acknowledgement. He paused, then asked, “Do you want to hear a song?”
Souji’s brow furrowed, “Huh?”
“I dunno, I just thought it might--” He turned his head away. “Nevermind.”
“Tell me.”
“I just know that, like, when I feel… when I’m feeling a lot all at once, sometimes listening to music helps. Because then I just kind of focus on that, right? Or it at least helps me narrow down what I actually need to be focusing on. Maybe that’s weird,” Yosuke chuckled nervously.
Souji shook his head. “It’s not weird. You can show me, maybe it’ll work.”
Yosuke hesitated, then nodded, “Okay, sure. Here, um-- do you have earbuds?”
“Oh, yeah,” Souji stood from the futon and momentarily mourned the loss of touch, but he supposed the idyllic reprieve could not last forever. He retrieved his earbuds from the desk and sat back down, untangling them in the dim light cast from Yosuke’s phone as he scrolled through his music app.
“Okay, yeah. Here,” Yosuke held out his hand and Souji placed the jack into his palm. They each took an earbud and settled back down against the mattress. Souji did not see the song that Yosuke chose, but it was quiet and melodic. His first thought was that it was something he might’ve selected himself, which was a comforting indication of how well Yosuke knew him.
“This is a playlist, uh, actually, so… oh, and if you don’t like something, let me know. I’ll skip it,” Yosuke assured him.
“Okay,” Souji said mildly, and closed his eyes.
After a moment, Yosuke spoke up again, “This isn’t my favorite one on the playlist,” He chuckled, “I-- I can skip it if you want.”
Souji cracked a smile, endeared by Yosuke’s shyness. “This one is fine. You can show me your favorite, though.”
“I-- well,” He swallowed, “You’re gonna make fun of me.”
“Yosuke, when have I ever --”
“Okay, fine, yeah,” Yosuke laughed, aware then of how absurd he sounded, “What if you start now, though?”
Souji laughed too, “Yosuke, you’re being dumb, just play it.”
Yosuke clicked his tongue and muttered mean under his breath while he scrolled through the playlist. The other song cut off abruptly to introduce a new, quicker rhythm. This one featured a more prominent bassline, and sounded much less like something you’d use to lull you to sleep, but Souji didn’t mind. He couldn’t say he was a fan of the vocalist, but he was a fan of seeing the silhouette of Yosuke’s lips move as he mouthed along.
They traded song titles back and forth for a while, Souji feeling unexpectedly daring to share some of his more offbeat favorites. They chuckled softly over funny lyrics and exchanged reviews after songs were through. Slowly, they had turned towards each other until their faces were once again mere inches away.
Yosuke sighed and said, “Y’know, we should try to sleep.”
Souji yawned as if on cue, “Agreed.”
“I can, uh, put on my nighttime playlist? If you want me to.”
“Yeah,” Souji nodded, “I’d like that.”
“It’s all instrumental, if that’s cool.”
“That’s usually what I listen to anyway.”
“Ah, yeah,” Yosuke grinned, illuminated by his phone screen light as he scrolled to find the playlist, “Sometimes, I forget you really are a thousand years old.”
Souji, having heard all the jokes Yosuke could possibly make about how old-mannish he was over the past year, just rolled his eyes.
The song that Yosuke selected was gentle, and Souji listened sleepily as the guitar and piano melted into one another in song. They no longer spoke. They curled towards one another, and when Yosuke shifted to get comfortable, the back of his hand rested against Souji’s. Souji’s eyes flew open in the dark, and he felt Yosuke freeze for a second.
Tentatively, after a moment of stillness, Yosuke’s pinkie finger twitched and brushed against Souji’s. When his ring finger did the same, it became clear this was not a fluke. Souji held his breath. Possibility, improbability, finality. He had done scarier things this year. He could do this.
He turned his hand over slowly, like he was faced with an easily-spooked animal. He exposed his palm upward in invitation. He could not see, but he was certain Yosuke was staring back in his direction. His heart was steadily climbing up his throat. Closest we’ve ever been.
Yosuke did not intertwine their fingers as Souji had daydreamt for months that he might. He laid his palm over the side of Souji’s wrist, and his fingertips pressed at the center of his palm delicately. It was the barest possible way of holding a hand, and the grip was fragile as glass. Neither of them moved, nor said a word. As soon as the initial shock had worn off, Souji was flooded with warmth. He decided he would not ponder how silly it was to be excited over such a small thing. He would bask in his minuscule victory, he would add it to the moments of careful tenderness that he catalogued to think on later, and he would be happy. Tonight, he would be happy.
As sleep inched closer, Souji’s hand went slack, and his fingers reflexively closed over the top of Yosuke’s before he realized what he was doing. Nervousness sparked back up momentarily as he was unsure if he’d broken the careful peace. He thought, just let me pretend, please. Yosuke did not stir. Souji thought that he might have fallen asleep already, but there was no way to be certain.
His exhaustion was beating out his racing mind, finally, after three or four of Yosuke’s songs. He knew they would not stay like this all night. But with a childlike optimism, he wished that they would. He let out another yawn, allowed his fingers to tighten their grip just a little, and finally nodded off.