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Yusuke had settled quietly on a chair in a corner of the waiting room with a decent vantage point of the space, which provided him with an abundance of wandering patients and staff to observe for the purpose of passing the time.
Thirty minutes, the nurse had informed him as he was handed the care package he was currently opening—this time, a small assortment of snacks and a bottle of green tea. How fortuitous!
It had only recently come to his attention that donating blood would be a surprisingly practical hobby to take up. Not only was he contributing something of value to society by doing so, but there was the added benefit of being compensated with free food and drink. If only he were able to do so more frequently! But alas, as Yusuke had been made painfully aware due to some particularly unpleasant confrontations in the Metaverse, the human body can only lose so much blood, and his body has not been known to replenish its supply as quickly as it should.
He supposed that he should have been glad that he could donate at all, though; upon his first visit to the donation center within the hospital, a very concerned-looking nurse had glanced back and forth between him and the pressure cuff with skepticism before sighing and jotting down the numbers while suggesting that he increase his sodium intake. Apparently, were the reading just a bit lower, he would have been considered ineligible…a terrible disappointment that would’ve been!
Perhaps continuing to work with the Phantom Thieves would prove to be pivotal in improving his overall health, in addition to his diet. They had already identified their next target, courtesy of Niijima’s machinations. Surely the treasure of a mafia boss would be worth a hefty sum! Enough to enjoy another feast with the Phantom Thieves, at the very least! He had heard from the others that their previous celebration was at a high-end buffet, and at the time he cursed his luck that, despite the overflow of garish and gaudy opulence, his former teacher’s palace had contained no physical rewards on par with an Olympic gold medal.
The true Sayuri, a memory made manifest, only held value in his eyes, after all. And it was best off that way; a secret held between himself, his mother, and the heroes who salvaged what remained of them both.
Heroes, for whom he had readily taken up the sword and the brush. Yusuke could already feel the excitement over a new target swelling within him, could almost visualize the forthcoming victory on the horizon. The Phantom Thieves cannot fail. He will personally see to it that they are able to take down this corrupt extortionist with elegance and flair!
…I’ve gotten ahead of myself, he thought as he redirected his focus back to the clock on the wall, determining just how much longer he would be required to wait before making his return trek to the Kosei dormitories, we don’t even have a name, and we have yet to secure our route into the new palace. There is no use speculating on the nature or worth of the treasure just yet.
At that moment, a familiar voice interrupted his musings.
“What the hell are you doin’ here?”
When Yusuke rotates his body toward the doorway to identify the source of the noise, he finds Ryuji standing half in the hallway, half in the waiting room, face full of confusion.
“You ain’t hurt, are ya?” There is a tinge of worry in his voice that rings almost uncharacteristic to Yusuke.
“On the contrary, I am in perfect health. I think that the better question is: what brings you here? Are you donating blood as well?”
“Oh, is that what you’re up to? Guess I should’ve figured, the mascot for the center is on the door ‘n’ all—hold on a sec! Ain’t you a little too…” Ryuji trails off, scanning Yusuke’s form before continuing, “...skinny for that? You sure there’s enough blood pumpin’ in there for you to be givin’ it away?”
“What an odd coincidence...that’s precisely the sentiment that all of the nurses shared.” Yusuke shakes his head, then chuckles to himself with a degree of pride, “Nevertheless, I passed the necessary medical screenings, and this was my second time making a donation. I’d even go so far as to say that this will likely become a regular occurrence.”
Ryuji puts his hands on his hips and eyes him dubiously, displeased for a reason unbeknownst to Yusuke.
“Nothin’ wrong with donatin’ when you can, but are you at least eatin’ properly after?”
Without a word, Yusuke gestures to the small bag of potato snacks, cookies, and rice crackers sitting on his lap.
“You gotta be shittin’ me,” Ryuji sighs, dragging a hand down his face in a show of exasperation that Yusuke finds completely uncalled for. “You gotta make up for all the nutrients you lost, and I’m pretty sure that bottle of tea ain’t gonna cut it! We are gettin’ you some real food after this, and I ain’t takin’ ‘no’ for an answer!”
“I have no intention of declining such a generous offer—so long as you are taking care of the bill, that is.”
Ryuji's mouth drops open, aghast at Yusuke’s audacity.
“You freakin’...alright! Fine! You’re a real piece of work, y'know that?”
Just then, a short, labcoat-clad woman who is almost certainly about to tell Ryuji to quiet down enters the room. Yusuke mentally notes that her features are reminiscent of the female subjects found in paintings of the Neoclassical era and commits the shapes to memory for the purpose of sketching later. Meanwhile, the well-endowed doctor makes her way to the front desk where she leans forward, brows bunching up as she squints at them both from behind thick eyeglasses.
“Ryuji-kun!? Is that you?”
That was not what Yusuke was expecting to hear. Evidently, neither was Ryuji, if one were to judge by the speed with which his body swiveled around at the sound of his name.
“Oh! ‘Sup, Ooyama-sensei! I didn’t think you were still workin’ here!”
…Surely that is not her real name. Did Ryuji give her a rude moniker? And is he implying that she should no longer have her job?
Yusuke wouldn’t put it past him.
“Right, you didn’t hear—the transfer to the hospital that’s closer to my apartment didn’t work out, so I’m going to have to endure the commute for a little longer. C‘est la vie, but I’m still trying!”
“That bites! But hey, I’m sure there’ll be another openin’ you can take a shot at soon enough anyway. By the way,”—Ryuji points over his shoulder at Yusuke with his thumb—“how much longer does he have to wait? Is it fine if I take him with me?”
“Well, I wasn’t the one to draw his blood, so I couldn’t tell you exactly, but…” She takes a moment to assess Yusuke’s physical state, “...if he’s with you, then I don’t have any objections! Just keep an eye on him to make sure he doesn’t get dizzy and bump that pretty head of his. And tell your mother I said hello!”
“Sweet! You can count on me! C’mon Yusuke, let’s hang out for a bit.”
With that settled, Ryuji claps him hard on the back, prompting him to stand. He blankly follows Ryuji out of the room, watching as he says, “It was good seein’ you!” and offers a casual wave to the doctor.
…What just happened? Yusuke seems to have misread the situation, and can’t make heads or tails of the conversation that just took place. Best to get some clarification.
“Ryuji, what is your relationship with that woman?”
“Relationship?!” Ryuji exclaims before laughing heartily at Yusuke’s misunderstanding. “You really always manage to find the weirdest ways to phrase things, don’t you? She was assigned to pediatrics last year. We ended up chattin’ about random stuff when she was doin’ rounds on the unit, since I was pretty bored during my stay. Though now that I’m thinkin’ of it, she probably thought I was real annoyin’ at first, haha.”
This raises so many questions. He voices the first one that comes to mind.
“Out of curiosity, did you happen to befriend her for the purpose of ogling her considerable bust?”
Ryuji’s eyes nearly bulge from his head as he yelps, “Dude?! No way! She’s, like, the same age as my mom! Besides, she’s just doin’ her job! It’s pretty scummy to hit on a girl while she’s workin’.”
“Ah, so you do have limits.”
“Hey,” Ryuji deadpans, “just what kinda guy do you take me for?”
“In all honesty, I’m not entirely sure yet.”
“Hmm, I guess that’s only natural, it’s only been a couple of weeks since you joined the team…wait, that ain’t the point!”—he scratches at his head in frustration—“Ugh, never mind.”
Ryuji turns on one heel, as though he is about to storm off, then freezes.
“Damnit, I gotta stop gettin’ worked up for nothin’…” he mutters under his breath before turning to face Yusuke, “You should walk closer to me. I’m s’posed to be keepin’ an eye on you.”
Before he can make a snide remark about how Ryuji is the one who ought to be watched, Ryuji’s hand wraps around his wrist and pulls him forward until they are walking side-by-side.
“Holy crap, are you made of ice? Your hand’s frickin’ cold!”
“Have you considered the possibility that it is your hand that is exceedingly warm?” Yusuke retorts irritably.
“Nah, you’re definitely colder than what I’d call healthy...” Ryuji slows his stride to gather his thoughts, his hand still tightly around Yusuke’s despite his complaint. “Maybe we should sit outside where it's sunny. Let’s go to the courtyard!”
They swiftly weave through a few hallways, passing several staff members with whom Ryuji exchanges quick bows and greetings along the way, and before long they are in a small green area littered with trees and benches. Ryuji ushers him onto a bench that is partially shaded, then lounges beside him with his leg outstretched in the sunlight. Yusuke exhales pleasantly—the early summer air feels wonderful on his skin.
…Perhaps Ryuji was right about him being cold.
Now that he has time to take stock of his surroundings, he does so, tearing open the paper lid of the potato stick container and helping himself to a snack.
Yusuke is sure that he would’ve had a hard time making his way to this courtyard had he not been explicitly looking for it, and wonders how Ryuji came to be so familiar with the layout of the hospital—and its staff, for that matter.
Actually, he was so swept up by Ryuji’s pace that he completely forgot to ask.
“You mentioned that you had stayed here. Might I ask what for?”
“Huh? Oh, I got my surgery here.”
Yusuke’s gaze inadvertently drifts to Ryuji’s leg. He remembers now—in the bathhouse, after they ate hotpot with the others. It was then that he caught a glimpse of the long sliver of scar tissue, a lightning bolt of discolored skin marring the outer side of Ryuji’s thigh. He hadn’t thought much of it at the time…admittedly, he had many other things on his mind after the parade of traumatic events that had transpired in the days leading up to his stay at LeBlanc.
“I see,” is all he can think to say.
There is a deeply awkward silence that only intrigues Yusuke more. Ryuji will not be giving him more details unless he asks for them directly, it seems.
“Will you tell me about what happened?”
Ryuji looks at him dryly, his tone lacking its usual air of humor.
“...For a guy that looks the way you do, you’re awful at bein’ delicate, y’know that?”
“So I’ve been told. But, will you answer the question? As I’ve said before, you already know all the details of my past—”
“—And it’s only fair that we share ours.” After a long sigh, Ryuji relents. “Alright, alright, I get it, now quit lookin’ at me like that! Our first target…we really only talked about what led to us formin’ the Phantom Thieves. Everythin’ with Ann, her friend, the volleyball team. We didn’t really fill you in on the stuff he did before. To the track team.”
Track? Ah, right, Ryuji was on the track team. The ace, in fact. He’d mentioned that before as well—said that he ‘screwed up’ his scholarship, but didn’t elaborate beyond ‘raising his hand’ against a teacher. It was clearly a sore subject, and Yusuke didn’t want to pry. Now, he thinks he sees more of the picture.
“You assaulted Kamoshida,” Ryuji visibly flinches at his bluntness, “and then he retaliated.”
Ryuji laughs bitterly. It's a sad, hollow sound that Yusuke never would have thought to hear from him.
Regret…it doesn’t suit him at all.
“...Yeah. Bastard broke my goddamn femur, all ‘cause he was jealous of how much attention we were gettin’! So he took it out on me, spreadin’ rumors about my home situation…last straw was him insultin’ my mom. And then I was here for a couple of weeks,” Ryuji says, gesturing at the building they were in mere minutes ago with a tilt of his head, “no scholarship, no team, and a brand-new metal rod in my leg.”
Yusuke had thought he had finally stopped being angry, that he’d exhausted all the rage he had bottled up inside him when they took down his former mentor, but lo and behold, just like the blood pumping through his veins, there is still more to spare. He looks down at the ground, unconsciously clenching his drawing hand enough to make the wax-coated paper cup holding his chips crackle in his grip.
He wonders if this righteous fury is his “Infinite Spring”.
“Your goals and aspirations, so cruelly snatched away…I cannot begin to imagine what that must have felt like.”
“I brought it on myself…I let him rile me up, and he took that chance to ruin everything with one swift kick. I gave him the perfect openin’, like a friggin’ idiot, and everyone around me paid the price.”
What a preposterous thing to say, Yusuke thinks. “You did nothing of the sort! You cannot hold yourself responsible for the behavior of another. I’ll admit that you seem to have a tendency to act without considering the consequences, but whatever torment he was subjecting you to…” it pains Yusuke to even think about specifics, so he leaves it at that, “Lashing out may not have been the most productive course of action, but I’m certain that you were justified. You aren’t wrong for wanting to fight back.”
Ryuji stares at him silently, his mouth pressed into a tight line and his expression unreadable. Yusuke stares right back until he turns away, hiding his face.
“T-thanks, man.”
The air is no longer refreshing; there’s an oppressive tension lingering around them as they remain unmoving on the bench. Yusuke supposes that it may be best to change the topic.
“You seem to get along well with many people here. I must say, I’m a bit shocked.”
Ryuji is facing him again. Thank goodness, Yusuke finds himself thinking, which surprises him just as much as his statement seems to have surprised Ryuji.
“What about that is a shock, huh?! You think I’m anti-social or somethin’?”
“Not at all. It just appears to me that you are a bit of a celebrity amongst staff. That isn’t something I know to be typical.”
“Is that it…?” Ryuji reclines against the bench, arms crossed and head canted to one side in thought. “I really dunno how it happened, though. I guess I just…got to know them, to suit my own needs.”
“How interesting. What do you mean by that?”
Ryuji struggles to find the words for a few seconds, but Yusuke is nothing if not patient. He watches intently as Ryuji’s brows knit together in deep thought, listens to him hum and mumble as he grasps for a way to convey himself more clearly to Yusuke.
“I wasn’t able to walk on my own for a while, and I needed all the distractions I could get. Manga and model kits weren’t enough to keep me from gettin’ pissed off about my whole situation, so…I started askin’ people what they were up to. Staff, patients, everyone. Anyone that was willin’ to talk to me. By the time I started physio, I was invested in ‘em, and it felt like they were invested in me, too,”—a contented smile flickers across Ryuji’s face, followed by an embarrassed chuckle that inexplicably captivates Yusuke—“...it probably sounds dumb, but it made me wanna try harder. I wasn’t supposed to, but I even ended up doin’ a little extra at home too, pushin’ through the pain just so I could show everyone how well I was doin’ the next time I showed up for therapy.”
“Physiotherapy? Is that why you were here today?”
“Nope, I finished that up around the beginnin’ of third term. I actually came here to make sure that all our runnin’ around in the Metaverse isn’t effin’ up my leg any more than it already is. Better safe than sorry.”
“How unexpectedly diligent of you.”
Ryuji raises a tiny eyebrow at him.
“Ain’t that the bare minimum of what I should be doin’? I plan on uppin’ my usual workout regimen too, so I wanted to run that past my doctor. Our targets are only gonna keep gettin’ bigger ‘n’ badder from here on out, and I gotta be able to pull my weight!” His mood brightened, Ryuji leans in to nudge Yusuke playfully in the ribs, “Hey, do you wanna come to the gym with me sometime? I’ll even plan out some beginner exercises for you! It’s pretty fun, sweatin’ it out together, workin’ towards a goal, all that team buildin’ stuff.”
Yusuke inspects Ryuji's figure, examining his exposed arms and calves before looking down at his own wiry frame. Whatever work Ryuji puts into maintaining muscle is sure to be much more than Yusuke is accustomed to. He can’t risk exerting all of that energy and having none left over for his art. Phantom thievery has already proven to be more than enough physical activity for him to handle.
“I appreciate your offer, but I’ll have to politely decline.”
“Suit yourself,” Ryuji shrugs, “Well, at least Akira’s willin’ to go with me. Even Ann tags along every now ‘n’ then, even if she whines the whole time.”
Seemingly out of the blue, Yusuke is struck by a pang of jealousy. It sneaks up on him, startling in its intensity. Curious, he thinks. It’s unclear whether the emotion is caused by the thought of being excluded, the idea that his company was so easily substituted, or something else entirely.
He decides not to dwell on it. There is a simple solution to this conundrum.
“...I’ll consider joining you in the future.”
“Hell yeah! That’s the spirit!”
The unpleasant feeling in Yusuke’s stomach subsides instantly, and he resumes his snacking while admiring the scenery. While his mind is occupied, Ryuji reaches into the bag in Yusuke’s lap to help himself to the packet of rice crackers. At the sound of the crinkling plastic, Yusuke turns to face the thief and glares at him.
“Don’t get mad at me! I’m feedin’ you after this, ain’t I…?” Ryuji’s voice tapers off, eyes narrowing slightly as something behind Yusuke catches his attention, and Yusuke follows Ryuji’s line of sight to see what the matter is.
Off in the distance, maybe ten or so meters away, Yusuke spots a family of three; a mother and two small children. He turns back to Ryuji.
“Do you recognize them?”
“I think so. Hold on.” Ryuji stands, cupping his hands around his mouth to holler, “Yo! Kanta-kun!”
“For the love of—must you be so loud?” Yusuke protests.
The boy in the distance sees them, tugging on his mother’s sleeve and pointing before jogging over, the mother trailing behind with the younger child. As he approaches, Yusuke notices that he must be no older than elementary-school age, most likely nine or ten. The mother and her toddler are in color-coordinated outfits. How charming. Quite the picturesque family.
“Big bro!” the boy—Kanta, Yusuke reminds himself—calls with his arms outstretched ahead of him. Ryuji lifts his arms with his palms facing out, ready for the incoming high-five. The child slaps Ryuji’s palms with all his might, resulting in a resounding smack.
“I was not aware that you had siblings,” Yusuke says.
“I don’t! These guys just hang around the hospital a lot on weekends. I think the dad works here, but I ain’t sure where, exactly.”
“Dad works in the lab,” the boy cheerfully reminds Ryuji before turning to Yusuke, “He looks at all the germs with a microscope.”
Yusuke has no clue how to interact with this child. The best he can manage is a nod, which sufficiently bores Kanta into ignoring him in favor of the much more talkative Ryuji. They enter into a noisy and animated conversation, leaving him to sit silently on the bench as the scene unfolds before him. Meanwhile, the mother hurries over to rejoin her son.
“Goodness gracious—” the woman exclaims, “—Ryuji-kun, what’ve you done to your hair?! You’ll never get a girlfriend looking like that!”
“Hi, Ishizaki-san.”
“Oh, don’t sound so sour! I’m only messing with you.”
She reaches up to ruffle Ryuji’s hair, and Yusuke sees him crack a smile against his will.
The little girl trots up to her brother, then examines Ryuji for some time. Seeming to sense her apprehension, he stoops down to her height—as much as he is able, at least.
“Hey, Reina-chan,” Ryuji softly coos, “look at how big you’re gettin’!”
His tone is jarring, foreign to Yusuke’s ears. He had no idea Ryuji could sound so…gentle.
At the sound of her own name, recognition is apparent in her eyes. She reaches up to pull on the hem of his bright yellow tank top, and Ryuji intuits the child’s request with ease, lifting her high in the air as she giggles merrily. The warmth of the scene is arresting; Yusuke wants to immortalize it, somehow.
“Hm? You see somethin’ interestin’?” Ryuji jokes.
“You fit in so well amongst children,” Yusuke replies coolly, “how refreshing.”
“...Are you callin’ me immature?”
“Not right now, though it isn’t inaccurate to say that I generally find your behavior to be immature.” Ryuji scowls at him, but Yusuke pays him no mind. “Rather, it’s more that you hadn’t struck me as much of a nurturing type until now, but that sort of role appears to suit you quite naturally. You’d likely make for a good older sibling—or possibly a father in the future.”
Ryuji is obviously flustered, face reddening as he gawks incredulously at Yusuke. Ishizaki-san bursts into a fit of laughter beside him.
“Oh, Ryuji-kun, your friend is just a delight! What a sense of humor!”
“I was being completely serious,” Yusuke huffs.
“I know,” is all she can manage to say through her mirth, “that's what makes it so funny. I do agree with you though. Ryuji-kun’s a very sweet boy…though, I’m sure you’ve gathered as much already, being his friend and all!”
“Actually, we haven’t known each other for very long,” Yusuke corrects, “and it appears that there are still a great many things for me to learn. Just today, I feel as though I’ve had an opportunity to see new sides of him that I find quite endearing.”
“He really grows on you over time, doesn’t he?”
Yusuke nods affirmatively, watching in mild amusement as Ryuji shrinks under his appraisal.
“That does seem to be the case.”
“Can you two cut it out?!” Ryuji interjects, discomforted by their combined attention, “You’re worse than my mom!”
Something about his expression ignites Yusuke’s urge to tease him. He stands and bows at Ryuji, an overly-formal gesture that causes Ryuji’s face to flush in embarrassment.
“I look forward to becoming closer with you, Ryuji. Please take good care of me.”
“S-stop that!”
Ishizaki-san smiles at them both, then glances at her wrist. A silver watch with a thin band and ornate clasp rests there. Very elegant, Yusuke observes as he follows her gaze back to Ryuji’s face, this woman has considerable taste.
The sound of her voice disrupts his train of thought.
“Well, we should be going now. My husband’s lunch break is starting any minute now, and I don’t want to keep him waiting. You two, enjoy the rest of the day! It's gorgeous out!”
She takes her toddler from Ryuji’s arms, and the child easily rejoins her mother while waving shyly back at him. The boy gives him a fistbump before turning to Yusuke and hesitantly bowing his head. Overall a very positive interaction, despite some initial awkwardness. He returns his focus to his companion, who has seated himself back on the bench in a somewhat hunched position, elbows braced against his knees as he exhales deeply.
There’s something about Ryuji’s expression as he watches the family disappear back into the hospital building that draws Yusuke in; a gaze full of longing and nostalgia and a multitude of other things that Yusuke may not fully comprehend, but so very badly wants to.
You really are just full of surprises.
“I’d like to paint you one day,” he muses aloud, without really thinking.
“Where’d that come from?” Ryuji sounds legitimately taken aback by the suggestion.
Yusuke isn’t sure what came over him, but an explanation comes to mind quickly enough.
“It has occurred to me today that I don’t know you very well...I hope to come to understand you more, and there is no better way for me to do so than by observing you through an artistic lens,” he states matter-of-factly, as though a portrait will give him the answers he seeks. Art has yet to fail him in this regard.
“Pretty sure I can think of plenty of other ways for us to get to know each other than a modelin’ session.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“But, uh,”—Ryuji pauses to point back and forth between himself and Yusuke in confusion—“ain’t we becomin’ better friends right now?”
Ryuji’s got him there.
“I suppose that we are…but in my opinion, there is no better way to see a person at their most honest and vulnerable than having both body and soul laid bare for the sake of art!”
“You’re back on that strippin’ shit again?!” Ryuji yelps indignantly, “Nuh-uh, ain’t no way I’m lettin’ you pull that with me, too!”
“You never know what the future holds—you may come around, in due time.”
“Fat freakin’ chance!”
I’ll convince you one day, I’m sure of it.
Ryuji looks back at him with an eyebrow quirked.
“Anyway, you looked kinda uncomfortable until Ishizaki-san came over. You were makin’ one hell of a face. Not used to kids, huh?”
Yusuke didn’t think it would be so obvious. But, it appears that Ryuji is a lot more perceptive than he had given him credit for.
“I take it that you are?”
“Hmm…not really. I just talk to ‘em like normal.”
“That would make sense,” Yusuke starts, “Your vocabulary seems a bit limited, so I suppose that you would understand each other.”
“Hey. Are you tryin’ to get on my nerves?”
Yusuke can’t keep himself from smiling.
“Perhaps I am. But to answer your initial question, I am simply unfamiliar with how I should behave around children—I often find them to be unpredictable. I am realizing more and more that I was never afforded the chance to ‘act my age’, nor did I have leisure time to spend with peers.”
Ryuji looks genuinely concerned. “Damn, you didn’t play with other kids your age or anythin’?”
Yusuke quietly shakes his head.
“I was always the youngest child in the atelier, and I was expected to carry myself in a more mature manner so as not to tarnish Sen— Madarame’s public image,” he quickly amends, “Relating to a child is, admittedly, foreign to me. I’m almost envious of how easily it comes to you, and not just in regards to children, either…you have an uncanny knack for getting along with others. The same goes for Ann; her personality and visage are almost magnetic. I sometimes find it hard to believe that the both of you are ostracized at Shujin.”
“Well, it ain’t like I started out that way…it's more like my reputation made me unapproachable. Talkin’ to me would’ve been like social suicide with Kamoshida still around, so I can get why everyone avoided me like the plague. It’s a little different in Ann’s case though—she always got treated different for lookin’ different. But if you ask me, everybody was just too intimidated by how she never let all their shit talkin’ get to her—” he stops mid-sentence to point an accusatory finger at Yusuke and say, “—Don’t tell her I complimented her! She’ll never let me hear the end of it.”
“I will be sure to inform Ann of your praise,” Yusuke chuckles as Ryuji shouts friggin’ jerk! back at him. “Though, I do think I can relate, to some degree. My reputation as ‘Madarame’s star pupil’ precedes me...I sometimes fear that it may follow me to my grave.”
Ryuji grimaces, then reaches over to pat Yusuke heavily on the shoulder. He feels himself tense at the gesture, and wills himself to bring his attention back to Ryuji’s words.
“Geez dude, that’s morbid. It ain’t gonna stick with you for that long. He already got what was comin’ to him, and you’ll have a chance to make a name for yourself the second everyone forgets about him and takes a real look at you. I mean, your art’s freakin’ amazing! Hell, you were practically carryin’ his career this whole time. That’s hard proof that what you make is connectin’ with people, at least.”
The reassurances make Yusuke’s heart pound in his chest and his face heat in a way that he isn’t sure he’s ever experienced before. Who would have thought that Ryuji’s opinion of his art would evoke this kind of response? He can’t pinpoint when it was that he came to care what Ryuji thought of his work—he is hardly familiar with the terminology that is necessary to even begin to process the depth of his creations!
But he understands effort and dedication, Yusuke realizes. Ryuji genuinely believes in Yusuke’s skill and his sincere wish to convey something beautiful, and has faith that his work will receive due recognition.
That would be too good to be true; Yusuke cannot accept that such a reality could exist just yet.
“Even if that is the case, and his influence does disappear, I still must contend with his looming shadow until then. Not to mention, there is still the reaction my appearance evokes.” Yusuke has felt it too much to be unaware at this point—the comments on his thinness, the compliments on his features, the unpleasant stares that burn his skin. “My…looks have garnered unwanted attention and caused many to keep their distance. You said it quite concisely: treated differently for looking different.”
“You’ve got a point, there’s no gettin’ around the fact that you’re real pretty…” Ryuji trails off as he processes what he’s saying, “F-for a guy, that is!”
“...I fail to see what being male has to do with anything. But, even you agree. Between my appearance and my reputation, it has proven quite the challenge to forge relationships with others.”
“Don’t forget about your bad attitude!”
Yusuke scoffs. “My bad attitude?! Are you really one to talk? Lest we forget how rude you were when we first met!”
Ryuji, mystifyingly enough, begins to cackle.
“Please! You take the cake when it comes to bein’ rude! Way I remember it, you were talkin’ to me ‘n’ Akira like we were the dirt on your shoes!” He covers his left eye with a hand and attempts his best imitation of Yusuke’s less-than-enthusiastic greeting at the art gallery back in May, “‘Oh. You came.’ Hahaha, man, you shoulda seen the look on your face!”
Yusuke glowers at Ryuji, which only makes him explode into a full-on fit as he struggles between breaths to tell Yusuke that it wasn’t his intent to upset him. Yusuke does not appreciate the mockery, but cannot find it in himself to be angry at Ryuji for it. The truth of the matter is that they were both inconsiderate of one another, to put things very lightly.
Yusuke has never made a bad first impression in his life, as far as he can recall. And here he is, having quite the enlightening exchange with someone who saw him at his lowest. Someone that he wrongly held no interest in; someone who had seemed so opposite to him in every conceivable way.
Here he is, enjoying himself in spite of all that.
He relaxes his body against the wooden bench and laughs quietly alongside Ryuji.
“We certainly did get off on the wrong foot, didn’t we?”
Ryuji doesn’t respond; his laughter dies down as he stares at Yusuke with eyes full of curious wonder. Yusuke is suddenly fearful—he realizes that he is still not well-versed enough in Ryuji’s mannerisms to know what a reaction like this could mean. He voices his concerns aloud.
“Have I said something wrong?”
Ryuji slowly shakes his head from side to side, and Yusuke exhales in relief.
“It’s just—I don’t think I’ve heard you laugh for real like that before…I wasn’t sure you could.”
Yusuke raises an eyebrow at him. “Now who is the rude one?” he supplies, soundly entertained by the sight of Ryuji recoiling as he realizes what he’s just said.
“M-man, just, ugh, forget it,”—Ryuji hides his reddening face behind one hand and holds the other in front of Yusuke’s face as an extra barrier—“forget I said anythin’!”
Once he’s finished being bashful, Ryuji smacks both his palms onto his knees with finality, stands, and stretches, causing the fabric of his shirt to hike up unevenly along his waist. The sun glints sharply off of his belt buckle and forces Yusuke to avert his wandering eyes from the sliver of skin that had revealed itself from the movement, and he finds himself strangely disappointed that he couldn’t get a better look. For a moment, Yusuke considers how long Ryuji’s torso is as he extends his arms over his head in an aesthetically pleasing arc—he hadn’t noticed before, on account of all the time that Ryuji spends hunched over, trying to make himself a smaller target.
…He really hopes that he can convince Ryuji to model for him, one day. Not for any assignments, not for any gallery pieces, but a study for his own satisfaction.
How odd.
Yusuke doesn’t understand what has compelled him to feel this way. He stares off into the distance, perplexed by his lack of comprehension of his own intentions, and attempts to parse his thoughts.
Oblivious to his predicament, Ryuji intrusively waves a hand in front of Yusuke’s face to get his attention, then steps into the light.
“Yo, Earth to Yusuke? I think we’re done killin’ time here. Are you feelin’ warmed up? I dunno about you, but I could totally destroy a bowl of ramen right about now! So, let’s get movin’!”
Yusuke slowly rises from his seat and follows Ryuji into the early summer sun.
“That just might be one of the best ideas you’ve had in the short time I’ve known you.”
“Oh, shut up!”