Chapter Text
“Well, shit,” Ryuji says.
“Language,” Yusuke retorts idly, and Ryuji feels his face heat up. He’s not a little kid, damn it!
…except maybe, just maybe, he kinda sorta feels like one at the moment. Not all the way, no, not yet. Just enough for everything to seem a smidge foggy, a fact Yusuke already knows. Pouting, Ryuji scuffs his shoe against the sidewalk, the motion sending droplets from a puddle flying in all directions. He does it again for good measure.
Standing next to him under the awning, Yusuke ponders the sky. “I wonder…”
Phooey to his wondering. They’d had plans to go to Inokashira Park. Romp around a bit, maybe go see the animals at the zoo. A rare thing, for Ryuji to have bravery enough to venture while regressed, and the stupid rain had to go and ruin it. Not fair. He stomps in the puddle again for good measure. It only makes him feel a little better.
“None of that, little one,” Yusuke chides gently, and that just riles Ryuji up further. They’re in public public, with people all over the place, which means baby-talk is against the rules! And even if they had been in a more private setting, Ryuji isn’t entirely sure he’d be up for that kind of attention outside closed doors. Not since the Makoto incident, even if she had apologized profusely.
Besides, he ain’t even that little yet. “You don’t got a baby,” he mutters in a low voice. A warning, really, but if Yusuke hears it, he ignores it.
“Perhaps we can find a suitable movie for young ones,” he murmurs, as though his wallet doesn’t have moths and Ryuji’s isn’t much better. “Or perhaps the arcade. Although I must admit I have rather little experience on that front…”
As much as Ryuji loves the arcade, all the bright, flashing lights and noises crashing into each other seem a little too much right now. A theater would be only marginally better. The thought of either leaves a funny feeling curdling deep in Ryuji’s stomach. He shakes his head.
Yusuke frowns. “We could go to Leblanc, see if Akira or Futaba are free.”
That doesn’t seem fair, either. This is supposed to be their day, just him and Yusuke, and he doesn’t particularly want to listen to Yusuke and Futaba bicker today. And doesn’t he bother Akira enough?
“No.” Ignoring the disapproving look Yusuke gives him when he kicks the puddle again, he sulkily glares at the ground. “Just wanna go home. With you,” he adds, just in case Yusuke didn’t get his meaning. “Got games and snacks and movies there.”
Something about Yusuke softens. Ryuji isn’t sure he likes that either, not yet; it smooths over some of the frayed edges that had been fluttering haphazardly, waiting to snag on a stray thought that would send Ryuji spiraling. But he’s not ready for that drop. Not yet, not yet, not yet.
So of course Yusuke mentions the one thing about going home that would rip the rug right out from beneath him. “Is your mother home?”
“Uh.” Is she? Or is she working today? Tonight? Usually, Ryuji is able to keep up with his mother’s chaotic schedule more than he follows his own, but now all the days seem to squeeze together. “I, uh, don’t know.” He hates the sinking feeling, wilting underneath the prospect. He doesn’t know if he has it in him to pull himself up when he’s already sinking. For once, he doesn’t want to. That isn’t fair, either. So, mustering up bravado from some hidden depth, he says, “Doesn’t matter. It’ll be fine.”
“If you’re sure,” Yusuke answers doubtfully. With a huff, Ryuji stomps off back towards the station, leaving him no choice but to follow.
Thankfully, the trip is short, and surprisingly few people are riding despite the rain. They must have hit a sweet spot between rushes. Still, it doesn’t stop Ryuji from feeling the tiniest bit tinier, and as they depart from the station, it’s all Ryuji can do to resist sliding his hand into Yusuke’s. It’ll have to be enough to walk together under Yusuke’s umbrella. But when an old man gives them the stinkeye as he passes, Ryuji can’t stop himself from huddling closer.
“Almost there,” Yusuke murmurs. It’s unclear if he’d noticed the man, but Ryuji doesn’t have it in him to point out the issue.
The flat is empty when they arrive, leaving a clustering of relief and dismay warring in Ryuji’s chest. It’s only made worse by the note left on the tiny kitchen table. Got called in for a second shift, so I won’t be home until morning. Some cash for dinner is clipped to the paper, probably for dinner, and that, too, makes Ryuji feel weird. It’s an expense that they probably shouldn’t make considering it’s the end of the month, but he knows he’s not going to be able to cook anything for Yusuke tonight. And he’s not going to ask Yusuke to do it. He’s his guest! Not that it ever stops Akira when he visits, but Akira’s unstoppable like that.
Then again, so is Yusuke. Without Ryuji realizing it, Yusuke had stepped close and peered over his shoulder at the note. “Well, that won’t do,” he says, startling Ryuji.
“Huh?”
“Little ones shouldn’t stay home alone.”
It takes a moment for Ryuji’s mind to catch up. “Dude, are you inviting yourself to stay over at my house?”
“Yes.”
Relief wins the war, folding over a trench dug deep in his chest, and Ryuji gives a helpless little laugh. “Okay…you won’t get in trouble, will you?”
“Kosei won’t notice.” And before Ryuji can puzzle out what he means, Yusuke gently steers Ryuji out of the kitchen and towards his room. “Let’s get you settled, little one.”
There’s such an air of determination in his voice that it burns through some of the insistent haze. Certainly not Yusuke’s intentions, Ryuji thinks. “Beginnin’ to think you made it rain on purpose.”
“Whyever would you think that?” Yusuke prods Ryuji until he sits, then turns to the dresser. When Yusuke had gotten so comfortable rummaging through his things, Ryuji has no idea.
“Just so you could see me littler.” As soon as he says it, an angry blush rushes up his neck and to his cheeks. Like Yusuke with his discretion, somewhere along the line Ryuji had lost what little filter he had left. Embarrassing.
Yusuke pauses in his study of a green sweater that Ryuji barely remembers owning. Glancing upward as though he can see the sky through the concrete and steel above him, a thoughtful look crosses his face. Ryuji knows that look. It’s his artsy-fartsy look, the one that means he’s about to wax poetic about whatever thought crosses his mind. But all Yusuke says when he finally speaks is, “Maybe so.” He pulls open another drawer. “Why would coming home make you, ah, ‘littler’?”
As if you don’t know . Ryuji squirms, pinching at a corner of his blanket. “You know…”
“I don’t.”
Ryuji presses his lips together as though that’ll do anything. The words are already pressing, battering at the cage of his teeth. In the end, he doesn’t know why he bothered trying. “‘Cause it’s safer. Safest. Even safer than Leblanc, even if Mom’s home.” Each admission squeezes at his chest only to release just long enough for the next one to come. He doesn’t think he could explain more if he tried.
Thankfully, Yusuke seems to get it. Nodding, he drifts back over to Ryuji, sweater and a pair of joggers in tow. “I understand. It is not my home, but I certainly sense safety when I am here.” There’s an undercurrent of wistfulness, of want, in Yusuke’s words. But Ryuji, coward that he is, is too afraid to tug that thread. Not yet.
So all he does is accept the clothes. Staring at the sweater in his hands, a thought strikes him. Impromptu sleepovers are a given amongst their friend group, but… “Find somethin’ you can wear, too.” He nods towards the dresser when Yusuke tilts his head. “Should have somethin’ that can fit. Maybe.”
Turns out he does, sort of. Another sweater–this time, one Ryuji really doesn’t remember owning–and a pair of sweatpants. Both ride up above Yusuke’s wrists and ankles, but he doesn’t complain. “Isn’t that better?” he asks as he lays out their uniforms for tomorrow.
Ryuji has to admit it is. The sweater is warm, even if it does smell a little musty from being crushed in a drawer for who knows how long, and he can even tug the sleeves down over his hands. That’s what he’s doing when a brown, raggedy shape enters his vision.
He has Pip in his arms before he even realizes he’s grabbed him. Immediately, any lingering unease fades to a dull wave at the back of his mind. Not gone, not yet, but easily dealt with. “Thank you,” he mumbles into the threadbare fur between Pip’s ears.
“Of course.” The bed dips as Yusuke sits next to him. Out of the corner of his eye, a small plastic case slides into view.
“I’m not a baby ,” Ryuji whines, nudging it away from him with his foot. The yellow pacifier, innocent of all crimes, just waits for him to crumble.
“I know,” Yusuke says in his I’m-playing-along voice. He’d learned it from Akira.
Pouting, Ryuji scoots further back against the pillows. “Get my computer.”
“Just as bossy as Futaba.” But Yusuke’s still smiling as he does as ordered. And of course, Ryuji, in true Ryuji fashion, takes it as a challenge. He tells Yusuke how to log in, what site to pull up, what show to watch. He even tells him exactly how he wants to be held! Rare as it is for Ryuji to go out while tiny, it’s even rarer for him to take charge.
But he gets the distinct feeling that Yusuke’s only humoring him, if the smile is anything to go by. It’s a relief in its own way, to know that someone else will take the reins if he doesn’t want them anymore. It doesn’t stop him from huffing as he settles down to watch their show.
Ryuji isn’t quite sure when he dozed off, but when he blinks awake again, the room is dark except for the glow of the laptop, which is precariously balanced on the edge of the bed. Slow, he peels himself up just enough to pull it closer. He can’t afford a new one if it falls and breaks. But Yusuke doesn’t give him a chance to do much else; a lanky arm slips around him and hugs him close.
“Sleep.” It’s hard to say whether he’s awake or asleep himself, but Ryuji doesn’t quite have the brainpower to refuse. More sleep sounds nice, and the weight curled around him is comfortable.
“Nini,” he whispers as he tucks his head under Yusuke’s chin. Then he lifts himself up again, just long enough to grab his pacifier. Maybe he’s not a baby, but he sure feels close. Plus, he just sleeps better with it, anyway. The fuzziness that washes in once he’s nursing has him sinking back down in more ways than one. Against his cheek, he can feel a low rumble of Yusuke’s quiet laughter. Awake then.
“You s’eep, too,” he mumbles. It’s not fair if he’s the only one sleeping, after all.
“Alright, little one.” Yusuke’s voice is a quiet hush against the pattering of the rain outside. Comforted, Ryuji allows that final push under. The day might have been a wash, but he wouldn’t trade its end for the world.