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Everyone’s outfits suited them well, which Ann supposed was to be expected from the Velvet Room. Or at least, Ren said it was to be expected. Ann herself had no frame of reference for what this place should or should not be—she’d only learned of its existence five minutes ago.
And in a few hours, she’d forget all about it. Freaky.
Dream clothes were quite comfortable. The hoodie was soft, the skirt came with a pair of sewn-in shorts, the high-tops made her feel like she was walking on the Moon (though that may have been another dream thing), and the fishnets weren’t nearly as itchy as they looked.
…On second thought, she could do without the hat.
Of the group, Ryuji had, undoubtedly, changed the least. He didn’t own this exact outfit, but he very well could’ve. The shirt was just as neon, the pants were just as baggy, and the bandana was just a slightly altered version of what he wore in the Metaverse.
Yusuke, however, came as a complete surprise. Well, not completely. The colors matched what they normally wore, and they had bought some pretty outlandish accessories in the past. No, what surprised Ann was the spikes. Spikes along the collar, spikes along the sleeves, spikes all the way down the front. People in literal biker gangs were less pointy than that!
“What do you think?” they’d asked upon exiting the dressing room.
Ren gave a thumbs up. “Badass.”
“Uhh…” Ryuji said, though it sounded more like he’d swallowed a bug.
Interesting.
Where they lacked in professional training, they both made up for in spirit. Ryuji couldn’t dance on-beat to save his life, and Yusuke tended to follow their own lead, maintaining a free-and-flowy style even if their partner wouldn’t (or couldn’t, in the case of Makoto) adapt to it. Realistically, pairing these two up was a disaster waiting to happen.
And yet…
Yusuke appeared in Ryuji’s routine first. Already, Ann didn’t have high hopes. A partner whose style was the complete opposite of theirs? Strike one. Having to follow their lead? Strike two. Having to follow the lead of the notoriously uncoordinated Ryuji? Strike three, you’re out.
He ushered them in with a broad sweep of his arm, and they glided toward him. From there, they danced independently of one another, barely attempting to work together. Exactly as Ann predicted. Spinning and stomping and spiraling into chaos.
Then Ryuji turned to Yusuke, smiling affectionately, and it was like a switch had been flipped. He began circling them, to which they moved counterclockwise as he “hyped them up” (Ryuji’s words, not Ann’s). Yusuke seemed happier, too, briefly enjoying the spotlight before reaching out in a pseudo-baton pass.
Their eyes met, feet moving in sync. Ann had never seen that… look from either of them outside this dreamy recreation of the Shujin courtyard. Not when Ryuji finished a run in record time, nor when Yusuke submitted an assignment they were especially proud of. It was as if they finally understood the awkward space between them; that they could do whatever they wanted with it, so long as they’d forget by morning.
For Ryuji, that apparently meant ripping his bandana.
“What, didya think it’d make you look more punk?” Ann teased.
“Huh?” He glanced down. “O-oh. I didn’t even realize…”
She tilted her head to the side. “You can’t fool me. I know you ripped it on purpose.”
He had yet to raise his head, silently contemplating the frayed fabric, and Ann noticed a slight pink in his cheeks. A tiny scratch jutted out from the shadow of his neck.
Very interesting.
A few dances later, Ryuji appeared in Yusuke’s routine.
The pair started off at a similar level of incoherence, asserting their superiority like two ten-year-olds on the playground. Then they both flashed that damn look again, switching from their own stilted choreography to—and this was the last straw for Ann—mimicking each other. Ryuji framed Yusuke like they’d often done when his back was turned, and the boy received a pair of enthusiastic finger guns in response.
Barely two hours had passed, yet they’d seemingly skipped forward fifteen pages in their relationship. Maybe that’s the understanding they came to. If, for whatever reason, they feared getting together—if they couldn’t say it, but could tell it’s what the other was thinking—then this little wrinkle in time made for the perfect solution.
Subtlety was never their strong suit. Stubbornness, on the other hand—oh, they excelled at that. Each thief had picked up on their feelings ages ago, and the not-couple were either oblivious of that fact or didn’t care. Ann assumed the latter.
The holes in Ryuji’s bandana had gotten bigger, with new ones appearing in his shirt. There were new scratches, too, all over his neck and shoulders.
He was also due for another partner dance. Come to think of it, Ann hadn’t seen him or Yusuke since they finished their routine with Futaba. So, against her better judgement, she went after them. Whatever I find, I won’t remember soon. Thank. God.
She checked Yusuke’s room first, because apparently the ones controlling this dream knew exactly where they lived. Double freaky.
Nearing Ryuji’s room, she heard whispering. Two distinct voices, of whom she was certain belonged to the weirdos she’d been looking for.
“You really don’t want me to take this off? What if I hurt you?”
“And what if I want you to? The jacket stays. ‘S hot.”
“I didn’t take you to be such a masochist, Ryuji,” accompanied by a nervous chuckle.
The next sound was definitely kissing. Ann backed away slowly, leaving them to… sort things out. In their own strange way.
Reentering the main area of the Velvet Room (and hopefully not appearing too shaken), Ren flagged her down. “Hey, have you seen Ryuji? He’s up next.”
“Yeah, he- uh- needs some time to rest, actually. I’ll take his place.”
Ren smirked. “Time to ‘rest’, huh?”
“Don’t. Even.”