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Yu Narukami has nice hands.
That’s a totally objective statement, too.
In appearances alone, they have a nice shape. His palms are wide and a little flat, squared off at the bottom in a characteristically masculine fashion. His fingers, by contrast, are long, almost a little too long, but they work well with the rest of him. He’s tall, so his hands match, with the hint that he’s got a little more room to grow into them. They’re pale like the rest of him, growing callouses on the pads of his fingers and thenor, where he is used to gripping a heavier sword. Taking up basketball helped as well.
He doesn’t just use them in battle or in sports. If the need calls for it, they will carefully hold a pen as he scribbles across a paper as he takes notes in class—no scribbling would be a poor way to put it. He writes quickly, but his handwriting is almost always legible. His control of his chopsticks while cooking is almost unfair. He makes cooking in general look way too easy. And one can’t write off the nimbleness he shows when he plays cats cradle or finds out a new magic trick to impress Nanako. (Whether they are good are not isn’t the point.)
They’re good hands.
Though Yu is often the poster boy for cool and calm under pressure, his hands are rarely idle. When he’s not taking notes in class, they are usually resting on his desk, occasionally in his lap. He will fiddle with the pen silently, or tap the tops of the nails on his left hand with the fingers on his right. As they prepare to enter the TV world, Yu’s fingers will flex at his sides. As they rest on his friend’s shoulder, they will give a gentle squeeze, a constant but light pressure in reassurance that he’s there.
A lot can be said about Yu from his hands. And sometimes they’re more trustworthy than his words. Yosuke’s spent a lot of time watching them.
Yu may smile at his friends, a calm nod that they have time to make their next move. Yes, he’s busy, but he’s okay, he’s not worried yet. As he says all this, Yosuke’s eyes will fall to his hands, noting the way he presses his thumb into the palm of his opposite hand. Yosuke isn’t sure about pressure points or anything, but it he’s pretty sure that’s what it’s supposed to be—something to force him to be calm. Which…means he isn’t. At least on the inside.
Yosuke never says anything. Not in front of anyone else.
That’s why he accompanies Yu home, acting as if he just lost track of time, but hey, they might as well study. They both know it was intentional, but neither points it out. He’s there as Dojima leaves, once again putting Yu responsible for his younger cousin. As self-sufficient as she is, she’s still six, and Yosuke knows that he takes those responsibilities seriously. When Nanako is around, she gets his focus.
He’s there as Yu prepares a simple dinner, attempting to help but mostly making sure that Yu doesn’t take the meal too seriously. He’s there as the lines of Yu’s shoulders slowly melt while Nanako entertains them both with a few stories from school. He’s there to help Nanako with the dishes, having to bat Yu’s hands away to let them do their fair part.
He’s there as they settle down in front of the coffee table in Yu’s room, as those long fingers flip between pages in the textbook. He’s there as Yu writes down the answers to the questions quickly. It used to make Yosuke jealous that it all seemed to come so easily, but he knows it’s not all his natural genius—it’s also a lot of hard work. He’s there as Yu taps the pen once, twice…three times.
He’s there as Yu starts to lose himself in thought, most decidedly not related to schoolwork. Yu drops his hands into his lap after a moment and presses against his palm.
So he’s there to reach out.
He grabs Yu’s hand before he realizes what he’s doing.
Yu blinks, eyes a stormy silver one moment, though the clouds begin to clear as soon as he locks his gaze with Yosuke’s. He searches, questioning silently.
“…Um—“ Yosuke gapes, staring for a moment before his eyes drop to their hands. Silence drags.
“…Yosuke?” Yu breaks it. He offers a reassuring squeeze to Yosuke’s hand. It’s enough to snap him out of it.
There he goes—it’s almost automatic, isn’t it? He has to be there for someone. The only reason Yosuke would be reaching out to him is because he needs help, doesn’t it? Can’t it ever be the other way around?
“I’m here,” Yosuke tries, the words feeling lame on his lips, but he pushes through. “You know that…right?”
Yu blinks again, looking a little wondrous. “Yes, I—“
“—I mean—whether you want me to be or not. I’m…I’m here. We’re in this together. All of us.”
A new silence breaks out, but this time it’s contemplative. Yosuke can hear his own heart beat, feel the weight of Yu’s gaze settling on him. He’s gotten very good at guessing at what Yu is thinking and feeling from body language alone, but he can’t read minds.
He does know what Yu looks like when he’s closing up, though, as he does when someone gets a little too close. There’s a moment of retreat in his eyes, perhaps a natural instinct to pull back. But it’s momentary. It disappears.
A hesitant but welcome warmth comes forth instead, curling the edges of his lips ever so slightly. Yosuke feels his heart grow heavy and then light for a beat or two.
“Yeah. I know.”
Yu’s hands still twitch with anxiousness, unable to stay completely immobile, still press tightly together. But every so often, they reach out. Not all the time, but often enough. Quiet, unassuming.
And there’s always someone to reach back.