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“This is outrageous!”
Yusuke stretched her legs over the arms of the couch, book held high above her face. Another stretch, and her head practically dangled off the side, dark hair cascading down to the floor. To Goro, it looked like the least comfortable position imaginable, but Yusuke certainly had no difficulty loudly commenting on the book’s plot.
“How can he not recognize his father’s clearly suspicious behavior!?” She gestured exasperatedly in Goro’s direction, seeking her boyfriend’s support. It was his book he’d leant her, after all. “His story doesn’t line up with the timeline of the murder!”
“Dear, please sit still.” Goro set aside his palette, certain he wouldn’t get anything done so long as she had that book in her hands.
She ignored him, continuing to wriggle around on the couch. “My darling Goro, love of my life—how on earth could you possibly remain seated with such an enticing plot? You- you said you read this on the train, correct? And not a word? Not one…?”
“Not a word.”
In hindsight, Goro really should’ve expected Yusuke to treat his mystery novels the same way she would any film of the same genre. Adding on the motive to steal a portrait of the now-deceased matriarch, and it was a recipe for a fairly entertaining disaster. He only wished she could save this entertainment until after he’d finished painting her.
“Are you at least enjoying it so far?” he asked. “Ironically enough, some of my favorite stories were the most infuriating to get through.”
“Oh, yes, this has been a rather enjoyable read. I just wish the protagonist had more common sense.” She glared at the pages, as if William Baker himself could see her disapproval.
Goro shrugged. “I thought it was more realistic that way; contrasting his determination to find his mother’s killer with his complicated feelings toward the man who raised him.”
“But it’s so obvious,” Yusuke bemoaned.
“Not to him, maybe. Or maybe it is, and he isn’t ready to confront the truth yet.”
There was a reason Goro chose that particular book to lend her. He’d first read it shortly after his mother’s passing and, like Yusuke, found the protagonist purely insufferable. He knew his father was evil, so how could this character, this spineless character, not come to the same conclusion? Mr. Baker had abused William since childhood, using the façade of a nuclear family to cover for his schemes, and not once during any public interactions did William say a thing about it. As far as Goro could tell, he was complicit.
He only made it halfway through.
Then Goro met Yusuke, and he immediately picked it back up.
Everything added up: the excuses, the shame, the tendency to harbor blame for her punishments. Yusuke, the real life William Baker, was one of the strongest people Goro had ever met. He couldn’t see it before, but he did now.
Though she’d long since estranged herself from Madarame, Yusuke would sometimes, however unconsciously, carry over these cruel and unusual punishments into adulthood.
“Thank you for the meal, but I cannot eat until I’ve finished this piece.”
“My apologies, it appears I stayed up—yawn—a bit too late again last night.”
“Please don’t look at me right now.”
Reality didn’t come with transcripts of everyone’s internal monologues, but if Yusuke read William’s, perhaps she’d become as sympathetic to herself as she’d been for Goro. He still had much to learn from his mistakes, and was hardly qualified to offer advice when he couldn’t even follow his own. In the interim, these books provided exactly what she needed to hear, written with the specificity and care he’d never been very good at conveying.
“Personally, I find William to be quite inspiring,” Goro added, to which Yusuke raised a confused brow. “He could’ve easily given up in the face of adversity, but he continued fighting to bring his mother the justice she deserves.”
“Huh. I never thought of it like that.” She fanned the pages. “The way you describe him, William almost sounds like… you.”
Me?
“You’ve got it wrong, dear. I chose this book because William reminded me of you.”
“I don’t… how so…?”
Damnit. He could no longer rely on eloquent prose to carry the conversation.
“Well… Despite knowing, deep down, that the mistreatment he faced was wrong, a part of him can’t help but… justify it, somehow. As if his father had only ever done what’s best for him.” Yusuke slowly sat upright, putting the book down. “William believes his father when he says he loves him, but he also understands that- that this isn’t what love is supposed to look like. And when he says he had nothing to do with his mother’s death, he wants to believe him, even if the red flags are waving violently in his face.”
Yusuke didn’t speak for a while. Goro messed up, he was sure of it.
Then, very quietly, she said, “I understand.” She lifted her head, locking him in an intense stare. “But I still think he’s a lot like you, too.”
“Ah, so I don’t have common sense.” Her eyes widened, now believing she was the one who’d make a mistake, so he quickly followed up with, “Kidding, kidding.”
“William’s sense of justice revolves entirely around his mother, and his insistence that she was murdered. Her portrait being stolen at around the same time cannot be a coincidence.” Yusuke glanced at the book beside her, taking in William’s image on the cover. “It’s admirable that he devotes his career to giving a voice to the voiceless, and I have you to thank for lending me that perspective.” She smiled softly. “Like his mother, William also deserves justice, I think.”
Goro took this interlude as an opportunity to make a quick sketch of her expression. “You’re about halfway through, correct? I’ll let you get back to it. You’re almost at my favorite part—when William notices something strange about his mother’s portrait.”
“Spoilers!”