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It took a few months of side-eyes, not-so-subtle- ahem ’s, and one extremely uncomfortable conversation in which Souji explained how reproductive organs function on hormone replacement therapy and we’ve literally only been together for a few months and we aren’t having sex and even if we were it’s really not anyone’s business because we’re almost adults, Uncle, and--
Regardless, Yosuke was finally allowed to spend the night again.
“He’s not gonna, like, hate me now, is he?” Yosuke asked.
Souji chuckled from his side of the bed, sitting up and sleepily applying the medicated lotion to the twin scars beneath his pectorals. It was supposed to relieve the angry red of his post-surgical scarring, but he had yet to see a noticeable difference after the past few months of nightly usage. “No, he’s not going to hate you. Why would he?”
Yosuke laid on his side of the bed with his face half pressed into the pillow, looking on at Souji’s work. “Missed a spot,” he said quietly, and reached over to point at Souji’s side, where the scar ran up his ribcage.
“Huh?” Souji lifted his arm, “Where?”
Hesitantly, Yosuke pressed the warm pad of his thumb against Souji’s side and gently worked the lotion into the missed spot himself. A few months of exclusivity with one another combatted the practiced distance of a year of pining, of constantly reminding oneself to hold back, to not break the delicate balance and lose the other forever. Sometimes, they forgot they could be themselves now. It was a learning process. Still, they deftly avoided eye contact in silence until the job was done. Souji turned his flushed face away to put the lotion away in his nightstand.
“Anyway, um--” Yosuke cleared his throat, “I dunno. Sometimes, it feels like he still thinks I’m a bad influence on you.”
“Well, you kind of made a crappy first impression with the whole, you know, getting me arrested thing. Honestly, who could blame him?” Souji turned around to see Yosuke’s quietly worried face, and he smiled reassuringly, “Yosuke, I’m kidding.”
“I know, I know,” Yosuke rolled onto his back and sighed, “I just want him to like me. I… I want to prove that I can be a good partner to you. I don’t like disappointing people.”
“You’re not disappointing by wanting to spend time with me, Yosuke. I think you’re doing the exact opposite of that. He literally just didn’t want you to get me pregnant ,” Souji laughed softly, “That was the only reason he didn’t want you to spend the night.”
“Oh, but he doesn’t care if I get pregnant, huh? I see how it is,” Yosuke scoffed and rolled his eyes.
“I know, right?”
“I hate these double standards.” Yosuke shook his head.
Souji grinned and reached over to turn off this bedside lamp. With his curtains open, dim light from the nearby streetlamp drifted in and settled just barely over the two of them. Souji was somehow more acutely aware of their proximity now than when they were still just friends. They laid facing each other but remained a careful few inches apart on the small mattress.
After a brief, thick silence, Yosuke asked with a grin, “Is this awkward for you too?”
Souji laughed, “It definitely is.”
“We’re so bad at this!”
“Stop it, no, we aren’t. We’re just… new at it,” Souji reasoned.
“I spent a whole year getting really good at not touching you and now I have, like, muscle memory about it, y’know?” Yosuke admitted, “Not that I want to! I mean, not that I don’t want to-- am I making sense?”
Souji nodded, “I feel the same way. I used to be scared that if I even sat too close or something, you’d--”
“--Pick up on it! Right!? God, yeah.”
Souji smiled fondly, “Well, you’d better keep your distance, or I’m going to start to think you might have a thing for me, partner .”
Yosuke frantically shook his head, “Hell no, anything but that!”
They laughed together, faces half-tucked into their pillows to muffle the noise. When their childish giggling had subsided, Souji-- bolder than he might’ve expected from himself-- carefully reached out to place his hand on Yosuke’s cheek. He felt Yosuke’s smile relax beneath his palm, and his fingers wrapped loosely around his wrist. A moment of gentle quiet passed like that before Yosuke turned his head, just slightly, and pressed a kiss to the side of his hand. Souji felt his heart warm at the tender touch. Every so often, he allowed himself to bask in the triumph of finally, finally , getting to this point.
Finally, yes, he has Yosuke. He has him, after a year of wanting and wanting and being reminded that he would never have this, that falling in love with your straight best friend is not a story with a happy ending, especially not in a town like Inaba. But it went deeper than that. Finally, he was known. He was understood past the archetypes of hero and perfect son and shoulder to cry on that everyone projected onto him, the burden he allowed in the negligence of his silence. He loved his friends and family more than anything, but he knew when they saw him, they saw what they needed from him. He knew when Yosuke saw him, he saw him for what he was, and liked him all the same.
“Can I tell you something?” Souji asked with a voice just barely more than the quiet than surrounded them.
Yosuke hummed in response.
“You make me really happy,” he confessed, heart pounding, “Sometimes, I’m amazed this is real life. I spent so long just… resigned to the idea that I’d have to get over you eventually and move on with my life. I think I was nearly ready to admit that I never would get over you when you confessed to me. And things turned out so much better than even my craziest daydreams. I just can’t believe it sometimes.”
Yosuke swallowed, and tightened his grip on Souji’s wrist just slightly.
When Yosuke didn’t respond after a long moment, Souji nervously continued, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to spring that on you out of nowhere. I don’t know why I said all of that and--”
The ever-creaky futon winced under the weight of Yosuke leaning forward and pressing his lips against Souji’s. He nearly missed in the dark, and there were swift readjustments when their noses bumped into one another, yet the awkwardness was forgotten in the melting feeling of sleepy adoration. Adoration , he would call it, until he worked up the courage to call it what it was.
When they parted-- easier said than done, of course-- Yosuke laid his head back down but remained close. “I can’t... say shit the way you can,” he muttered, “But I know what you mean. And I felt the same way for a really long time.”
Souji blinked in the dark, stilling the remaining dizziness. He willed a reply to come to mind, but no words felt accurate. He did not kiss Yosuke again, knowing that pulling back the first time was a feat not likely to be accomplished twice. Instead, he tentatively turned over and pressed his back to Yosuke’s chest.
Never once had they laid like this. Never once had they ‘cuddled’ in any capacity, really, between Dojima’s vigilant eye and their own nerves. But life was short. Souji knew this. And not all desires, even simple as they might be, were meant to be left obscured in one’s own embarrassment.
That embarrassment evaporated quickly as soon as Yosuke wrapped his arm around Souji’s middle, his open palm flattening to his chest and his cheek pressing to his shoulder blade. Souji softly sighed. Finally.
He and Yosuke settled against each other easily, warming one another in a room all too aware of summer’s waning heat. Souji was nearly drifting off when Yosuke mumbled something against his skin. Turning his head, he asked, “Come again?”
“Oh, um,” Yosuke shrugged, “I was just saying that… this is easier, I think. Than trying really hard not to do this.”
The sheepishness in Yosuke’s voice twisted Souji’s heart. He really had felt the same way for so many months, hadn’t he? Souji had considered it all so lonesome-- the spirals of shame and self-loathing, followed by daydreams, followed by the spirals once more. But he’d never really been alone in that struggle after all. He reached his hand up and found Yosuke’s. Now wasn’t the time to talk about it. Unworthiness was a vicious feeling that would leave lasting damage, not so easily healed by a single act of commitment. Neither of them had particularly spectacular self esteem, and repeated reminders that they really did love one another were not only desired but would be continuously necessary.
Oh, Souji thought.
I guess I can think of that word after all.
He squeezed Yosuke’s hand. His heart fluttered when the movement was mirrored with no hesitation.
“And,” Yosuke added, as though he could read Souji’s mind, “For the record? I still don’t think I could get over you.”
Sleep encompassed the two of them quickly. Souji was surprised at how easily he drifted off, expecting the closeness to become claustrophobic eventually. But after mumbled wishes to sleep well, they were both out like a light.
They slept peacefully for a few hours, until Souji was jerked awake.
The assault of hot air on his face was the first thing he felt as he blinked his eyes blearily open. He must’ve turned over in his sleep, he thought, and had inadvertently suffocated himself against the fabric of Yosuke’s t-shirt. But when he tried to pull away gently, Yosuke’s vice grip wasn’t budging. He whispered his name in an attempt to wake him just enough to get free. Yosuke didn’t acknowledge it. Souji nearly laughed-- perhaps they weren’t good at this after all, if Yosuke wouldn’t eventually let him go.
But when Souji’s whispers got louder, and Yosuke did not wake to them nor the gradually insistent pokes in the ribs, Souji began to worry. Yosuke’s fingers twitched and dug into his back.
Souji grimaced, “Ow, I-- Yosuke. Yosuke , stop, wake up.”
When even that didn’t get a reply, Souji abandoned his manners and pushed Yosuke away from him. He gasped in the cool nighttime air and rubbed at his eyes as they adjusted to the nearly nonexistent light. The clock on Yosuke’s nightstand read just past four in the morning. He sat up on his elbows, and looked at Yosuke’s face.
His eyes were wide open, brows knit together in horror. His gaze shot past Souji’s head and at the vast expanse of nothing on the wall. He was entirely rigid, teeth bared in an attempt to say Souji’s name, yet all that came out was a frantic ‘ s ’ sound.
Souji fumbled for the lamp switch and his glasses. He smudged a lens in his urgency, but once they were somewhat adequately shoved onto his face, he returned his attention to Yosuke. The light seemed to help. Yosuke was no longer staring at the wall but looking directly at Souji for help.
“Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he murmured, pushing Yosuke’s hair back from where it was plastered to his damp forehead, “You’re alright, here-- can you squeeze my hand? It’s okay, hey, there you go. Shh, just breathe. You’re alright.”
Souji had seen this before. Sleep paralysis following a nightmare was terrifying, yes, but not unmanageable. Yosuke gripped his hand tightly and attempted to slow his breathing under Souji’s direction. He remembered his mother’s gentle voice as she soothed him through these episodes in his youth. He mimicked her way of distraction, telling Yosuke to look around the room so he could focus more on the parts of his body that he could move instead of the many that he couldn’t.
Souji asked, “Here, can you look up at the ceiling? Okay, good. Can you look at the window? Good, can you look at, um, the fan? Bookshelf? Good job, yeah, you’re doing fine. Can you look at the door? How about the TV?”
Yosuke had been squarely on the path to calming down, but upon looking at the TV, he whimpered through clenched teeth and tried to shake his head. His eyes squeezed shut and Souji felt his stomach drop. He cupped Yosuke’s jaw, “Okay, no, that’s okay. My bad, my bad, okay? Look at me instead. Yosuke, it’s okay, look at me,” he smiled softly as Yosuke’s petrified eyes reopened. He stroked his thumb over his cheekbone and said, “Hey, you. That’s alright, you’re okay. We’re safe here, just breathe.”
It took several minutes of coaxing before Yosuke began to relax. Souji remained by his side, whispering reassurances, until Yosuke heaved a sigh and blinked back into lucidity. His body was stiff and stubborn, but Souji helped him sit up.
Souji tried not to be too obviously worried but it was hard to keep it out of his voice, “Are you okay?”
Yosuke stuttered, “Y-yeah… yeah, no, I think so.” He shakily wiped the cold sweat off the back of his neck. “Sorry for… waking you up.”
Souji shook his head, “Oh, don’t start, I’m serious.”
“I, um,” Yosuke cleared his throat, “I get those. Sometimes. Probably should’ve told you in advance, huh?”
“It’s okay. I get them too.”
Yosuke dropped his head and sighed, “Talk about a bad first impression of what spending the night with me is like.”
“Hey, c’mon, stop that,” Souji insisted, “I told you, it happens to me too. I’m glad I was here.”
Yosuke’s voice was alarmingly brittle as he said, “Yeah. Glad you were here.”
Souji reached out and brushed the hair away that was obscuring Yosuke’s face. His eyes were shining with fresh tears, and his lip trembled. “Oh, Yosuke.”
Yosuke pulled his hand out of Souji’s grip and fiercely wiped them away, “No, I’m fine, I really am, just--”
Leaning forward, albeit at an awkward angle, Souji pulled Yosuke to his chest. As though he remembered all at once that this was no longer prohibited, Yosuke gave in and wrapped his arms around Souji’s waist, pressing his face against his neck. His tears subsided, thankfully before they had a chance to turn into sobs. It appeared that he was sated by the touch.
Still holding tight, Souji attempted to relieve the tension by muttering, “Well, this is familiar, huh?”
Yosuke laughed and pushed him off of him, “Man, shut up.”
Souji spied the flush on his cheeks, but didn’t push it any further. He remained leaned forward even so, grinning fondly. “You know, I’d kiss you to cheer you up right now if you weren’t sweaty and snotty. But it’s the thought that counts.”
Yosuke snorted and wiped the last few straggling tears off his cheeks. “I don’t think you’re missing anything, we’ve both got-- well, it’s not even morning breath, is it? Middle-of-the-night breath.”
“Hm, that’s true,” Souji agreed, “Didn’t think about that one.”
They looked at each other for a moment.
“You wanna, like, do it anyway?”
Souji nodded, “Just try not to breathe on me too much, maybe?”
“No promises,” Yosuke said just before pulling Souji in by the back of his neck. Their kisses were brief and rather chaste, considering the aforementioned factors as well as the fact that it was still four in the morning. But it was sweet, and well-deserved, and it drove them both the rest of the way to calmness.
When they broke apart, Yosuke sighed, “Thank you.”
“For… kissing you?”
He rolled his eyes. “For helping me, dumbass.”
“I know, I was teasing,” Souji smiled, “Just wanted to make you say it. Are you sure you’re alright now?”
Yosuke nodded, “Yeah, I’m good.”
They settled back down onto the mattress, keenly aware of the few short hours of sleep they had left. Souji clicked the lamp back off and Yosuke sighed, reminding himself to relax in the dark. Wordlessly, Souji opened his arms.
They reversed their earlier position, with Yosuke’s back pressed firmly to Souji’s chest. Souji considered saying that word, he really did. He considered admitting it, finally, for what it was. But the words caught up in his throat, and all he could do was very lightly press his lips to the back of Yosuke’s neck (and quietly marvel at how that small touch made him relax so much in his arms).
“We’re going to be like this forever,” Yosuke whispered, “Aren’t we?”
Souji furrowed his brow, “What do you mean?”
Yosuke hesitated. “The night terrors. The fear of it coming back. We’re gonna carry that until we die, aren’t we?”
Souji said nothing for a long moment. He wanted to reassure him, tell him, no, we’ll get better . They would get better, yes, but the wound would never heal. They’d be lucky to see any scar tissue at all, decades down the line. Children weren’t meant to live through what they lived through. The mortal terror, the disastrous creatures, the horror of never knowing if you’d see a friend ever again. They endured it, but just barely. And they were lost in it with only each other to turn to. No one would ever believe them, not fully. But they believed each other.
It wasn’t enough. It had to be.
“We will,” Souji agreed, “But we’re not doing it alone.”
Yosuke hesitated, but nodded. Souji wished he could say more. He’d give anything to relieve that tension, coiled so tightly in each of them. But he could do nothing.
That wasn’t true. He could do something.
He could lie here, hold his partner to his chest, and keep him safe and sound. He could be here for his nightmares, and in turn, he could let Yosuke be here for his own. He was getting there, but he was still a way’s off from fully understanding that the inability to fix something for someone was not a personal failure, but a fact of life-- and it only made the small acts of love he could offer more healing.
They slept.