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The rumor races around the second-years of Yasogami High faster than the basketball team can flee practice: Yu Narukami has finally decided to set his heart on someone once and for all!
Yosuke is one of the last to know about Yu’s foray into romance. It reaches him during morning classes, overheard as some girl squeals to her friend in speculation over who he might have picked.
Yu Narukami, locked down at last; it really is the biggest news Yasogami has to offer.
Which is great, really! Yosuke wants his partner (investigation partner) to be happy more than just about anything. And hey! Maybe with Yu off the market, the girls he hangs out with will look for other fish in the sea—gangly, audiophiliac fish, to be specific.
Except… Yu hadn’t told Yosuke that he was planning on getting a girlfriend. They tell each other everything!
(Or is it that Yosuke tells Yu everything, and Yu just puts up with it?)
Yosuke doesn’t want to be a nag or anything. After all, it’s just a rumor! Given the speculation he’s heard about Rise and Kanji now that they’ve stopped actively tearing each other’s hair out, they’re often far from accurate. If anything, he’s heard less about the girls circling Yu than ever before.
Still, he doesn’t like not knowing.
He chickens out of asking during class, but Yukiko comes to his rescue during lunch, looking particularly self-satisfied as she holds Yu’s instant noodles hostage.
“Well?” she asks, grinning in a decidedly villainous fashion. “Who’s your confession for? We’re all dying to know.”
And Yu… Yu doesn’t blush, exactly, but Yosuke is his best friend; he’s spent enough time studying him to know that that silence definitely isn’t the regular one!
The girl can’t be Yukiko. Yosuke doesn’t necessarily get it, but he’s ninety-nine percent sure that she and Chie are on their way to having something—assuming they don’t already. So why does she look so damn smug, then? Does she know?
(And if she does, why hadn’t Yu told him?)
They’re partners. They’d promised to be in this together. So much of this year has been just the two of them, even once the others had joined. What sort of secret could come between them when Yosuke when he’d been so loyal when he’d always been there when Yu was always first for him now?
When school lets out, Yosuke is in a daze until he nearly stumbles into Kanji.
“Uh… you alright?” he asks, uncommonly concerned. “Oh! I know. Yu must have—”
Whatever Yu must have done, though, is lost as Rise materializes out of seemingly nowhere, clapping a hand over Kanji’s mouth with a resounding thwack.
“Shut up!” she hisses through a smile so sweet Yosuke could swear he’s getting cavities.
To Yosuke’s surprise, Kanji only shrinks back, as if Rise’s scolding is at all on par with one from his mom. Even if they do get along marginally better now, they still fight more often than not! Kanji should have launched her into space for that, not… whatever that was.
But wait… Looking at the guilt on both of their expressions… Does that mean that they know who Yu’s asking out too? What the hell!!!
Naoto almost certainly knows (thanks to being a “child prodigy” or whatever, which Yosuke definitely isn’t bitter about), and if Yukiko knows, there’s no way Chie doesn’t…
Fuck! Is he really the only one left in the dark?
He’s crouched in a bathroom stall before he can remember to keep his brain online long enough to make an excuse to Rise and Kanji. He wonders whether he even said anything, or if he just ran off like an idiot.
Not that it matters, he thinks, a strange, hollow laugh rattling up from his lungs as he hyperventilates. You can’t prove yourself any less worthy of Yu’s trust, apparently!
Fifteen minutes later, he’s washing his hands like he’d really done anything other than press the heels of his hands against his eyes hard enough to see stars—hard enough to stomp down the flood of tears threatening to fall and send them back where they belong.
When he exits the bathroom, rolling his shoulders in a perfected pantomime of nonchalance, the halls are nearly empty. Only Chie remains, slumped against the wall and looking incredibly bored—at least until she notices him.
“There you are,” she says, sounding so put out that Yosuke relaxes. Even Chie wouldn’t be so obtuse as to be irritated with him if she’d known what he was just doing. “Did you forget? I generously allowed you to come over to watch Trial of the Dragon, and you’ve still got me waiting on you to leave.”
“Sorry,” he replies vaguely. “You know how it is.”
Chie tilts her head like there’s something to be gleaned from that.
Yosuke sincerely hopes there isn’t.
Finally, she speaks again, her eyes never wavering or losing their intensity. “Actually, I’m a little tired. Do you mind if we leave it until tomorrow?”
Automatically, he opens his mouth to make a joke, something about the infamous Satonaka stamina hitting its limits pretty early, when his brain finally decides to wake up and stop him.
She’s giving him an out. Chie never tires, much as he might wish she would; in the face of Trial of the Dragon and Junes snacks courtesy of Yosuke himself, she should be bouncing off the walls. God, he really hopes that whatever is wrong with him isn’t displaying itself so obviously, but even if it is, today isn’t a day he feels like pushing past it.
They walk home together anyway; it takes all of five seconds for the questions he’s been keeping behind his teeth to come spilling out. “So… About Yu…”
Chie snorts. “You mean the rumor that he finally wants to go out with someone for real?”
“Well? Is it true?” Yosuke tries to keep the festering hurt from leaking into his tone. By the sideways look Chie flicks at him, it’s unsuccessful. “Because it sure seems like I’m the only one who knows nothing about it.”
Chie winces. “Look… Yu asked Yukiko for help, and she told me about it, of course. And you know it’s borderline impossible to keep anything from Naoto, so Rise and Kanji worked their magic to find out too. I swear, though, Yukiko was the only one Yu meant to tell. He wasn’t trying to leave you out or anything.”
Yosuke tries very hard not to think about how that means that no one thought to tell him anyway—and tries even less successfully to not feel relieved that at least it hadn’t been Yu leaving him out. Somehow, that would be far less tolerable. “Well, if the rest of you know, can’t you just tell me?”
“Sorry…” At least Chie looks it—she’s always succumbed to a little judicious guilting, so long as it’s genuine. “If it helps, I’m pretty sure the only reason you don’t already know is because Yu was very clear about wanting to tell you himself. It’s… pretty important to him.”
They don’t talk for the rest of the walk. Yosuke isn’t angry with her or anything, but there’s an itch under his skin he just can’t seem to process.
Chie, for her part, seems to understand this well enough, only peering at him from the corner of her eye like he can’t tell she’s on the lookout for an implosion. (Joke’s on you, buddy! Yosuke’s already met his quota for the week; he can wait until he gets home to go for his personal best.)
Being home isn’t much better, of course. Restlessness seizes each of his limbs with a force he can’t quite manage to dispel; his fingers itch to open his phone and call Yu.
Don’t be pathetic, he thinks as he stares blankly at his TV. Some kiddie cartoon is playing, but he hasn’t taken in a word—can’t even make his eyes focus enough to recognize a character. You aren’t needy. You aren’t.
He’s awake until three anyway, legs shifting back and forth in an uneasy rhythm. Maybe it’s the emotional exhaustion, or maybe it’s only that pre-dawn limbo that’s always seemed to strip everything bare, even before the Midnight Channel. Either way, it’s only in the darkness that Yosuke realizes what’s wrong.
Goddammit. He likes Yu.
...
“FUCK!” Yosuke bellows, muffled only slightly as he smothers his face in his pillow.
How the hell is he supposed to be happy for Yu when he’s just realized how desperately he craves every ounce of attention he can get?
(He also feels a sudden urge to buy Kanji, like, an apology sandwich or something, but he smothers that urge pretty ruthlessly, too.)
Upon waking up the next morning, Yosuke discovers that not only is he no closer to a solution on the Yu front, he’s also disastrously late.
Thanks a lot, Junes alarm clock! Not only is he enduring the trials of boy trouble for the first time, but he’s also peddling to school with the worst bedhead he’s had since he was seven!
He tumbles into class flustered and moody, but still a full minute before the bell rings. He’s ninety percent sure Yu is trying to signal something to him, but the only benefit of looking like an idiot at school seems to be an inability to care what Yu specifically thinks. Instead, he spends his morning classes paying attention for once, too busy wishing for a mirror as he tries to finger-comb his hair down to write a note or whisper a joke.
Lunch isn’t much better either. Even the promise of noodles (bought by Yukiko, who has apparently realized the chain of events she’s set off by virtue of having a laugh at Yu’s expense) isn’t enough to dredge him up from the depths of despair. When Yosuke only picks at his food, Yu’s brow pinches with concern; mingled guilt and satisfaction churns in Yosuke’s stomach, a cocktail of secretive delight.
Asking Yosuke what his problem is has never been a thing any of his friends have done. Even so, Yu passes him notes for the rest of the day, replete with the little doodles he usually saves for special occasions.
What are the chances, he writes, that we get to see Yukiko reject someone for real before the month is out?
¥10 that it happens, ¥50 that we see it, Yosuke scribbles back, chicken scratch tucked beneath both Yu’s perfect script and a picture of a stick man collapsed on hands and knees before stick-Yukiko.
Take that, mystery girl! For today, at least, Yu’s attention is all his.
Chie is waiting for him again today, but without a total meltdown on his part to keep her waiting, she’s in a much better mood than she had been yesterday.
“Are we on for today?” she asks, bouncing on the balls of her feet with all the energy she’d lacked yesterday. Her gaze keeps darting behind him, but when Yosuke turns to look, there’s only Yu, packing up as methodically as always.
Anxiety trails cold fingers down Yosuke’s spine.
“Why wouldn’t we be?” he asks, doing his best to pretend like he doesn’t know the answer is just behind his back. “You know how bad I wanna see this.”
“See this again, you mean.” Chie’s shoulders ease. “I still remember that you broke the original DVD, you know.”
And kicked me in the balls in front of Yu. No wonder Yu hasn’t trusted him with this secret yet. It’s not like his first impression indicated he was careful with delicate things.
But for Chie’s peace of mind, Yosuke only forces his expression into an exaggerated pout. “Please let that go? I’m sensitive, after all.”
He tries not to let on just how true that is.
Trial of the Dragon is good. It’s always good. Even so, it’s all Yosuke can do to gasp and cheer at the appropriate times, his mind consumed with thoughts of Yu.
Yu wants to tell Yosuke himself about the girl he likes. Why? Does he think Yosuke will have a problem with her? That he has a crush on this mystery girl too?
(Or does he know what Yosuke only just found out himself, and is looking to let him down gently?)
(Even in his runaway imagination, Yosuke can’t conceive of a situation in which Yu would be cruel to him. It would be the least he deserved, after the way he’s acted, but… They’re still partners, aren’t they?
Because if they aren’t, Yosuke really doesn’t know who he is.)
He goes home, mind fuzzy, but even heartsore, it’s muscle memory to pick up when Yu calls.
“You okay?” Yu asks when he picks up the phone, like he’s not the one who called.
Yosuke’s heart flutters anyway. “Obviously. What’s up?”
By the time he thinks to look at a clock, it’s nearly midnight—they’ve been on the phone for a little over three hours.
I like you. The words are trapped just behind his tongue. No one else listens to me like you do, but I think I’d stop speaking forever if it meant getting to hear what you’d say to me if I was your first choice in everything.
“Yosuke?” Yu asks. They’ve been quiet for a bit now, basking in the silence between them, and Yu’s voice is rumpled, sleep-soaked and soft like Yosuke so rarely hears it. “Are you still there?”
“Still here,” he answers, gut twisting, face flushing. “Still awake.”
“Tomorrow’s Sunday.”
Yosuke’s throat is dry. “It is.”
“Do you want to hang out?”
A frisson of lightning shudders through him. Isn’t it obvious that Yosuke would take any scrap of affection he could get? Even without feelings of the romantic nature, Yu has been his favorite person since he looked into the heart of Yosuke’s desperation and decided he was still a person worth knowing.
“Sure,” he says, trying to keep himself from sounding too giddy. “What time?”
Yu’s voice, always so placid, colors slightly with the sly amusement he wields like a weapon, a sword-point slipped right between the ribs. “Let’s say eleven. I know you like your beauty sleep, after all.”
Yu hangs up halfway through Yosuke’s squawked rebuttal, but Yosuke can’t honestly bring himself to mind. After all, if Yu was actually serious about his mystery girl, there’s no way he would waste a prime day for a date.
Instead, he’s chosen Yosuke. Yosuke, who can only smother a grin into his pillow until sleep comes to claim him.
Hope is harder to rid himself of than he’d thought.
Yosuke is too busy celebrating his victory to ask where they’re supposed to meet—at least until his alarm goes off to remind him it’s time to leave.
uhhh
where are we supposed to be meeting?
He pretends his stomach isn’t fluttering at the near-instant reply.
lol.
I was wondering how long it would take you to ask.
Cutting it close, are we?
Don’t sweat it.
The doorbell buzzes. Tripping over his half-tied laces, Yosuke wrests open the door to find Yu standing on the other side, hands in his pockets and a private smile quirking his lips.
“You’re here?” Yosuke asks stupidly, tongue heavy with a sweet and fizzing sort of panic. Yu’s wearing a shirt he’s never seen before, light blue with clusters of vertical stripes. It makes him look soft and inviting, less like their untouchable leader and more like someone Yosuke could reach out a hand for, if only he could be brave enough.
It is not doing great things for his nerves, to say the least.
“In case you were running late,” Yu answers, generously skating over what a dumbass question that was. “Besides, I wanted to do something a little different today, so I thought I’d try to keep it a surprise—at least until it’s obvious where we’re going. Do you mind?”
Yosuke feels a telltale heat start to burn the tips of his ears. “Uh, no! Lead the way, partner!”
Not so long ago, Yosuke would have complained about the quiet of Inaba’s streets as they set off side by side. Now, he can only be grateful for the tranquility it affords him even as they enter the shopping district. It’s nice to be able to focus on the calm and familiar when his heart is about to beat out of his chest.
“Taking me shopping with you?” he asks, palms sweating as a strange mixture of relief and disappointment washes over him. “You’d better be planning to grab me a new pair of kunai, then.”
“Later,” Yu answers with startling ease, as if Yosuke hadn’t just asked him to drop a crazy amount of money on him so soon after his last upgrade. “But we’re not going to Daidara today.”
They stop at Yomenaido Bookstore, a place he’s never been except to pick up the odd comic or two. Yu holds the door for him; something shy but eager flutters in his chest. Yosuke had never really understood why some girls swooned at the thought of simple chivalry, but he gets it now, he thinks. He likes the idea that, unconsciously or otherwise, Yu might want to take care of him in even this smallest of ways.
From the outside, passersby could be forgiven for thinking that Yomenaido only sells books, just as advertised. Yu, however, navigates them through the shop with the ease of familiarity and a shallow bow to the owner (whose face doesn’t so much as twitch at the appearance of a Hanamura, and thank god for that) and to the back corner. If anyone else had been watching, they might have mistaken him for a native of Inaba rather than a student who’s been here less than a year. His confidence is catching; with Yu at his side, Yosuke stands a little bit straighter, lets his steps fall as they may without care for the noise they make.
Junes has a music department; in a rapidly changing world growing more and more centered on electronics, how could they not? In his free time—and even on shift, if he can dodge both cameras and customers alike—Yosuke combs through the new releases, ever searching for a sound that takes him back home.
What Yu ushers him to in the back corner of Yomenaido is nothing compared to Junes’s selection. Everything they have amounts to little more than two shelves, and cramped as they might be, that’s nothing compared to the buying power of a department store.
But the contents of those shelves? Well, that’s another story entirely.
Yosuke doubts Yomenaido’s proprietor meant to amass a collection of oldies that are too rare to be commonly sold but too mainstream for specialty stores. The results, however, amount to the same thing.
“Are you kidding me?” He hears his voice come out strangled, a little loud. Right now, he can’t bring himself to care. “Yu, why the hell have you been hiding this?”
There’s a smile in his tone matched by the answering hitch of Yu’s lips; Yosuke is as light as air. “I wanted it to be special.”
Even as his earlier flush returns with a vengeance, Yosuke can’t think of a single witty response.
Yu only comes away with one album, but Yosuke loads himself down, unable to help himself.
Who would have known that the cure to thinking about Yu had been right here all along?
It’s a foolish thought, of course. When Yosuke tries to pay, the old man behind the counter waves him off, benignly disgruntled, and gestures to a wad of money by his register.
“Your friend paid well in advance,” the proprietor says, pretending a smile isn’t fighting to raise the corner of his mouth. “Just get out of here—and buy a book next time!”
Yu also pays for their croquettes at Souzai Daigaku, sliding smoothly in front of Yosuke as if in anticipation of protest. Which is fair, considering that he normally would! It’s just that… It’s one thing to know that Yu is taller than him, and another to really notice it. Stepping in front of him has left Yosuke a lot closer to Yu than he normally gets—belatedly, he realizes that had been pure self-preservation—and five centimeters suddenly has him feeling like the main character in a TV drama.
Step back before you start spouting a monologue about the strong lines of his back or whatever, he chastises himself. And no, that’s not an invitation to think about his back.
So he wanders off to snag them both a table, head spinning, and tries desperately not to think about how gently Yu is treating him. Fruitlessly, he tries to forget Ebihara’s obnoxious bragging to the girls she claimed to be better than, and how closely her recounted outings sound to this. Most of all, though, Yosuke tries to disperse the uncomfortable realization that if he was a girl—if Yu had ever shown an ounce of interest in another guy—this would be a textbook date.
God, he wishes he could have kept this fit of introspection under lock and key. It’s one thing to accept himself so his perceived flaws don’t fester into another Shadow—who wouldn’t like Yu, after all?—and quite another to wish it wasn’t so inconvenient.
Yu returns with the croquettes; when he hands Yosuke his, their hands don’t brush—much as Yosuke might wish they would—but Yosuke feels static between them as keenly as if they had.
“You okay?” Yu asks, and only then does Yosuke notice the heat licking at his cheeks, burning down his neck and suffusing his ears.
“I’m fine!” he cries out, immediately cringing at the volume of his own voice. “I’m fine, I mean. Let’s just eat, okay?”
The quiet, distant chill of Yu’s gaze—ever present, if only as a defense mechanism, or a suit of armor against expectations—melts a little at Yosuke’s obvious discombobulation. If Yosuke were less paranoid, he might even say the expression on his best friend’s face resembles fondness.
As it is, he’s not eager to test his luck (not when there’s still a mystery girl around—but for now, at least, he can banish her from his mind). Instead, he chokes on a too-large bite of croquette just to watch Yu’s eyes crinkle around a laugh.
This can be enough, he tells himself. It will be.
Routine guides him through a casual lunch while his heart pounds double-time. Between (and through) each bite, Yosuke rambles on about each album he’d bought, waxing poetic in a way he never lets himself when Yu isn’t his audience.
(You’re so obvious, his brain screams. Yu’s attention is locked fully on him, though, so he can’t quite bring himself to care.)
But the croquettes are put away all too quickly, and Yu is a busy guy. Afternoon is pushing ever closer to evening, and even though it’s still relatively early, Yosuke is only one bullet point on the expansive list of Yu’s obligations.
“Are you ready to go?” he asks. Every cell of him screams, say no.
“Done already?” Yu’s voice is light; still, Yosuke catches the slight indent of a frown at the corner of his mouth. “I let you sleep in for nothing, huh?”
Is that… Are those nerves Yosuke hears? They can’t be. Yu is far too self-possessed.
“You know I’m always down to hang out with you.” Oh, cringe. God, Yosuke, could you be any more desperate? “I just, uh… You know, you’re a busy guy. I may be your partner, but you’re our leader for a reason, right?”
Yu’s gaze dips for the briefest second at partner, though by the time Yosuke tries to track where it lands, those storm-gray eyes are already locked back in.
Self-conscious, Yosuke scrubs a knuckle over the corners of his mouth.
Yu looks away.
“Today,” he says (though the slight purse of his mouth lends his words the weightiness of a proclamation), “Is about you.”
Oh, Yosuke thinks.
Then, more despondently: Oh.
Because this is about him, but only nominally. Chie had said Yu wants to be the one to tell you himself, hadn’t she?
So that’s what this is. A confession, but not of the sort he’d only just learned how to long for.
Well. This should be fun.
The Samegawa Flood Plain is as empty as ever when they settle in. Before Yu, Yosuke never would have understood the appeal of hanging out here, except maybe as an idle, half-formed thought about sneaking down with a girl to engage in petty, unnamed disobediences. With Yu, though, he finds it easier to grasp the allure of a refuge like this. When no one else is around, it’s easier to let the truth free.
Like this, it’s easier to pretend honesty won’t hurt to hear.
Yu lies back in the grass, pillowing his head on his arms as casually as if there wasn’t a small frown blooming stubbornly at his lips. He’s tense. Even so, Yosuke envies—admires—his ability to pretend otherwise.
Ever trailing in his wake, Yosuke does the same.
For once, the sky isn’t fully cloudy. Inaba’s skies still retain some of their native moodiness, but it’s only enough to take the edge off the sun’s glare. For the most part, it’s all blue as far as the eye can see.
It’s… really nice.
“Yosuke,” Yu says.
Nothing follows, but that’s okay. Yosuke is the kind of guy who likes hearing his name however he can get it. With his eyes on the infinite blue above, he can’t read into whatever face Yu must be making right now. He can pretend that Yu is only calling his name to taste the shape of it, that Yu’s contentment is spilling over because he has Yosuke beside him.
“Yosuke.”
It was a nice thought, at least. “What’s up?”
“I… like someone.”
I know, he almost answers, but there’s no way he can get that to come out without sounding bitter. Instead, he breathes around his nausea, heart in his throat. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.”
And then Yu sits up, blotting out the sky with his always-familiar face. He’s half-leaned over Yosuke; though they’ve been closer than this before, Yosuke finds himself suddenly aware of just how easy it would be to reach out and lay a hand on Yu’s cheek.
“Well?” Yosuke musters. The words come out more like a croak than a fully formed sentence. Yu, lingering close enough that their breaths must mingle between them, still hears every subtle tremble. “Aren’t you going to tell me who it is? I’m starting to feel a little left out, you know.”
Yu’s brow furrows, but how can he be confused? Yosuke wasn’t supposed to know. “You don’t have a guess?”
Abruptly, Yosuke wonders if he should have sat up too, if only to put them on equal ground. Like this, there’s no reaction he could possibly conceal.
Maybe it would be futile to even try.
No matter what, it’s too late now. To get up from this position, he’d either have to roll away or press himself against Yu as he rose, and both options seem equally impossible.
He swallows. “I’ve got nothing.”
For a moment, that concern displays nakedly on Yu’s face, as unguarded as Yosuke has ever seen him. For someone so earnest, Yu can be awfully reticent when it comes to his own feelings.
Then it clears itself, softening into good humor as easily as if there had never been anything to be concerned about at all.
“Maybe we should get your head checked, then.” Small as it is, Yu’s rising smile is as blinding as the sun. “I have it on good authority that I’m incredibly obvious.”
“Are you really trusting Yukiko to tell you whether you’re being obvious?”
Yu laughs. “Maybe I shouldn’t. I’ll ask you instead.”
“I already told you—”
Yu’s face descends further as he shifts down to his forearm. When Yosuke’s mouth parts in unconscious surprise, he finds he can feel the warmth of Yu’s breath just inside of it as well—as intimate as a kiss.
“So tell me again,” Yu murmurs, soft and coaxing. “Yosuke, is it obvious that I like you?”
Later, Yosuke will be grateful that he didn’t, like, headbutt Yu in a misallocation of the nervous energy that ran through him at that, unsubtle as a lightning bolt. As it is, he blacks out a little, conscious but unaware of himself until his hand fists in Yu’s shirt.
“You mean it?” he hears himself ask, and god, is he frantic with want. “Please tell me you mean it.”
Yu’s smile turns genuine, wide and crinkling the corners of his eyes (and only later will Yosuke realize just how nervous cool, confident Yu must have been to see so stark a difference in his face). “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it, you know.”
Unable to form the words for a response, Yosuke’s hand only tightens in Yu’s shirt. Yu had thought he was being obvious? Why? After his awful reaction to Kanji (and yeah, he definitely owes him that apology sandwich now), what had made Yu confident enough to try his luck?
Maybe it’s because he knows you better than anyone, whispers a voice that sounds too close to his own for comfort. Do you really think you haven’t been obvious, too?
But beyond that, how was Yosuke even supposed to know? It’s not as if—
But didn’t he cheer you up? Hasn’t he been watching you from the start? Who else could even be considered his right-hand man, much less someone he might want to spend all his time with?
To that, Yosuke has no rebuttal.
“I—” His throat is dry; the words stick there even as he swallows fruitlessly around them. Nevertheless, he pushes through them. Honesty, he has learned, is more of a cure than he could have imagined. “I… like you too.”
Yu’s smile is blinding in its intensity; Yosuke’s chest has never ached quite so much before. “Oh yeah? You don’t sound so sure about that.”
“I am! I like you!” Only when he’s done does Yosuke realize just how fervent his indignation had made him. A flush crawls down his neck.
But instead of laughing, Yu only topples forward, face tucked awkwardly against Yosuke’s chest.
“Thank god,” he mumbles, and goosebumps rise at the feeling of his breath through Yosuke’s shirt. “If Yukiko was wrong, I might have had to kill her, and then the whole team would be screwed.”
Helplessly, a fit of giggles seizes Yosuke at that, and all the stress of the last few days melts away with it.
“Stupid,” he says in place of I’m so glad I didn’t lose you to someone else just when I was beginning to understand the way you make me feel. “You’re so stupid.”
The shape of a smile imprints itself just to the side of his sternum. “Somehow, you manage to find it in yourself to like me anyway.”
“Yeah,” Yosuke admits, threading his fingers through Yu’s hair just to see if it’s as soft as it looks. “I do.”