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forkanna · 3 years

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[AO3] [WATTPAD]

WARNING: Rise's views and Ai's views on the LGBT community, and especially those of other characters in this work of fiction, do not always line up with those of the author. Please do your own research! The more you understand, the better our world will be.

CHAPTER WARNING: Bulimia.

NOTE: Happy New Year! Welcome to my particularly long and exhaustive crackship tome that literally no one asked for! What else is new, right? The first scene of this chapter is almost entirely copy-pasted from my other P4 fanfiction, "We'll Face Ourselves", though I tried to spruce it up and shift perspective so it doesn't feel like quite so much rehash. I thought it served as a nice lead-in to this story, with some added focus on the new ship. The second half of this chapter and the rest of the fic is all-new, don't worry. The "Golden" is more a reference to it being additional "dlc" for my other fic, not to me specifically focusing on Marie or any such content exclusive to P4G. Apologies if this dashes anyone's expectations but I hope you enjoy the fic regardless!

As for anyone wishing for that fic to debut... you know the one... well, all things in time. Soon, I promise. In the meantime, check me out at jxsleator dot carrd dot co !

Jessex

PROLOGUE

Once upon a time, in the quaint town of Inaba… a minstrel girl and a stubborn princess fought over a handsome prince. Very briefly.

"Can't you give me a little kiss goodbye?" the minstrel pulled back to look up into the boy's stoic face, her large doe eyes shining with tears — on purpose. She was a top notch minstrel, after all. "Something to keep me from… from dying from missing you?"

"Oh please," the quiet innkeeper muttered under her breath with a begrudging smile.

However, the prince obliged the minstrel girl with a kindly kiss upon the forehead. She was in awe of his tenderness. Right up until…

"Excuse me? What do you think you're doing, you bitch?!"

The others pulled back to see royalty approaching, hands on her hips. A truly glamorous princess indeed, even though her regal vestments weren't nearly as radiant as they had been in days past. The ever-present lacy pink turtleneck lived underneath a cardigan today rather than her school uniform.

"What is who doing?" the pouting siren protested, clinging a little tighter to her prince's arm.

"You! Little trollop!" The flawless beauty stomped over to the two of them, honey-brown waves bouncing as she got right up in the singer's face. "Take your greedy little paws off my boyfriend!"

The idol stamped her foot and snapped, "HEY! I don't see your name on him anywhere!"

The prince gulped and began to back away. "Uh…"

"Really?" the princess scoffed. "What makes you think you have any claim to him, slut puppy? He went to the festival with me — and spent Christmas Eve with me, too! And for your goddamn information, we got pretty close!"

Though the siren was comely, and manipulative toward many of the young suitors in the land, it was in playful jest; she did consider them friends but couldn't seem to suppress her womanly wiles, so she flirted for sport. Alas, the princess wounded her deeply with such words; her lip wobbled at the princess's declarations, even though that may have been for show.

"Senpai, say that's not true! How could you, when I… I let you… you know!"

"Hey, it doesn't count when I'm just sitting there and you plop your butt down on my hand," the prince said reasonably. "And Ai-chan, we hugged a little; please don't tease her by making it sound like more."

The prince's pair of suitresses were chagrined. The princess seemed a little more genuinely hurt than her rival for his attentions but neither were particularly happy with being called out.

"Whew," the flop-haired jester exhaled, wiping his brow. "Don't know how you get away with it, juggling two chicks like that."

"That's not…" The prince sighed, shaking his head as he facepalmed. "Maybe I'm glad to be leaving."

But in truth, he was not. Nor was anyone else present. As they alternately squabbled and lamented the prince's parting, other classmates and citizens of Inaba began to approach to wish him bon voyage. He really had left an impression in the short year he had lived there. When the train whistle signalled that it was about to pull away, the bickering came to an end so they could truly see their friend off. A lot of tearful hugs and well wishes were offered before the prince was inside, looking out the window at them as it pulled away from the station. They ran after him all the way to the end of the platform until they ran out of space, then stood waving after him until the train was completely out of sight.

And thus the prince's tale gave way to another. One about a minstrel who had lost her way and found it again, and a princess who had not always known she was a princess at all.

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CHAPTER ONE

"I just… he really left," Rise Kujikawa finally sobbed now that the click-clack sounds of the train had faded into the distance.

"Geez, turn it off already," Yosuke Hanamura sighed as he clasped his hands behind his neck, pressing his floppy hair hard against his neck. They turned away to start toward home or wherever the night might take them. "You don't have to keep up the act when he's not even here."

"Act?!" She shoved him from behind, and he stumbled a couple of steps as his arms windmilled out to the sides, attempting to regain his balance. "Not cool, Hanamura! I am grieving the death of my relationship!"

"What relationship?" Kanji Tatsumi grunted.

"Boys, you could be a little more sensitive," Yukiko Amagi told them in an even, reasonable tone. She was dabbing at her eyes like everyone else, and leaning a little more heavily than usual on her best friend, Chie Satonaka, but she seemed to be maintaining her composure better than Rise could manage. "We're all going to miss him so much."

"I'm just trying to get Rise to wake up," Yosuke persisted anyway. "She's delusional. We all know Nakamura was trying to scam on that chick at the hospital."

"What?"

"You know. The nurse. Though I think she moved away…"

Kanji cleared his throat. "Actually, I… thought that woman with the kid was his squeeze. Y'know, the one that came up to him a minute ago?"

Chie squeaked, "He was doing what with who?! That's… why? Why chase a married woman?!"

"Oh, I thought it was one of you girls."

The group of them turned to blink at the girl from the drama club. "Who are you again?" Yosuke asked — very rudely, even though they were all thinking it.

"Yumi Ozawa," she said softly with a slight bow. "He gave me a great deal of help when I was dealing with my own family problems, you know. And… well, I revealed I had feelings for him, and he shut me down. Just said he wanted to remain friends, and it's hard to argue with that, isn't it?"

While Chie and Yukiko were chattering to her about that, the boys suffering through a "girly" conversation they had no interest in, the slightly jealous Rise found herself momentarily distracted. Everyone kept moving along as she slowly came to a halt, turned her white sandals off to the side, and approached someone who looked like she could use her company. Even if she wasn't absolutely sure of that.

"You okay over here?"

"Oh… no, no, I'm fine. Mind your own goddamn business."

"Wooooow. I guess that's what I get for caring, huh?"

"Wait," Ebihara suddenly blurted, standing up from the bus stop bench and taking a couple of steps toward her. "All right, I may have been unnecessarily rude. I just have no idea why you would want to talk to me when I was your rival for Narukami's affections."

"Because you looked kind of pathetic over here, all by yourself."

"I did not! I'm not 'pathetic', I'm legitimately upset that my boyfriend left!"

"He wasn't your…" But at least she managed to cut herself off with a roll of her eyes, swallowing down the jab and instead moving to hold onto Ebihara's shoulder. Tears were already rolling down the teen queen's cheeks, and her voice was tight and strangled, as if she were fighting back tears — clearly a losing battle. "He could never stay here. We all kind of knew that, and just talked ourselves out of believing it. I'm so mad! But… I have to get over it."

Clearly shocked by her more reasonable response, the prissy girl took a moment longer to respond herself. By the time she did, she was looking down toward their shoes. "Completely ridiculous. Right? I should have known better, I… ugh, I'm so pissed at myself."

"Right?!" Rise still wanted to slap her for trying to steal the boy of her dreams, but it really felt irrelevant now. So instead she tried for her most convincing smile — which, considering her previous vocation, was extremely convincing — and said, "Hey, um, why don't you try getting to know us a little better? Might as well, since you'll have more time on your hands now."

"Sounds stupid." The words came out so fraught with emotion that they were nearly unintelligible, but Rise still understood. "But I have nothing better to do, so lead on."

However, the closer they drew to the remaining group of students, the more anxious the prima donna became. Rise didn't know why exactly — and she couldn't know until Ai cleared her throat to get their attention. She could tell Naoto had been deep in discussion with Yukiko and Chie, though not what about.

"Yes?" Yukiko prompted her in mild surprise.

"I… thought I should say… I am sorry." She swallowed hard, brows furrowed. The expression still made her look angry and snobby, despite her tone of voice being gentle now; she just had resting bitch face. "Probably too late. But I was really going through some things when I sidelined you two in Aiya, and being rude is second nature to me. Can't be the most stunning girl in school without it going to your head, can you?"

"You say that like I would ever know," Chie snorted.

"Right. And… normally I would be agreeing with you and belittling you, Bowl Cu- I mean, Satonaka. I have a lot of practice." Grimacing, she growled, "Got so used to being queen bitch that it's hard to just be nice."

After a brief silence, so awkward that it felt as if any sound would have been preferable, Yukiko laid a hand on Ai's arm, gentle and reassuring. "Please, Ai-san. We all have darkness inside of us; nobody is a perfect person. So I think it's very admirable you're seeing your flaws and that you're trying to improve. I am the same, and so are my friends."

"Oh yeah?" The girl let out a wet-sounding laugh; indeed, tears were budding at the corners of her eyes. "How the hell aren't you perfect, Miss Goody Two-Shoes? I mean… I've always been so jealous of how the boys talk about you. No 'buts'."

"No butts?!" Chie burst out. "What do you mean? She's got a GREAT butt!"

Ai chuckled a little more heartily at that. Naoto was the only one who tapped her chin while noticing Yukiko's slight blush from the compliment; the others weren't paying it any attention. "No, no, not her ass. Which — fine, sure, it's fantastic. I mean like, they describe both of us as really beautiful, or hot or whatever. Same words for both of us. But with me, it always had a 'but she's such a bitch', 'but she's stuck up', 'but she's psycho' attached. Yukiko… a couple of guys said you were snooty if you turned them down for a date, but the rest of them saw through that. You're a good woman and I'm just a good-looking woman. I did so much work to be beautiful so boys would like me, but I'm just… ugly on the inside."

Though clearly, Yukiko was about to speak up, Chie beat her to the punch. "So that's it, huh? You're pathetic."

"Excuse me?"

"C'mon, Ebihara. You're made of tougher stuff than that. Where's that girl who slammed her leg up on the table in Aiya and demanded we appreciate it?"

Though the teen queen had been firing up, being reminded of that moment in the diner made her squirm and fold her arms tightly over her chest. "That was stupid. Do you wanna know why I did that?" When Yukiko nodded, she pushed ahead, "Thing is, I was a... when I was little, I was nowhere near the adorable Ai you see before you now. Fat and hideous, got told I had pig hooves. So like, I'm sure it sounds really stupid to you guys, but having dainty little feet now is super amazing to me still."

"You were fat?!" Chie demanded, looking her up and down afresh. "No way! I call bullshit!"

"Yep, a total blimp. And I got hella teased because I didn't match up with their…" What a pregnant pause. "W-whatever. Yu already knows all this stuff, but pretty much I decided to reinvent myself when I found out we were moving to Inaba. Obviously it went to my head, but… at least I'm better now. Getting better all the time."

The rest of the Investigation Team was speechless. Rise, for her part, couldn't believe the superficial teen queen actually had some substance under that lip gloss. Certainly hadn't seemed that way when Ai basically bit her head off just for being at the shopping center with Narukami. Maybe he was the one responsible. After all, the stoic boy had touched all their lives, brought about an awakening of sorts to their inner beauty that they likely would never have found within themselves without him shedding that light. It just seemed to be one of his latent talents. Unsurprising that he had done the same for the entitled fashionista.

"There seems to be only one solution for this predicament," Naoto was stating firmly with a small nod, finger tapping her chin. "We must return to Aiya to remember our departed friend, and strengthen our bonds with each other."

"Oooh, a party!" Rise piped up with an excited little bounce, despite the light drizzle that was beginning to fall. "Yes please!"

"I guess that's a plan," Chie agreed as Rise, Kanji and Yosuke joined them. "What do you guys think? We catching the portal to the meat dimension?"

Grimacing, Yosuke demanded, "Do you have to call it that every time, Satonaka?! Geesh! Sounds super nasty."

"Bet you can't even handle it."

"Wha- OH YEAH?! BRING IT ON!"

~ o ~

"PHWOOOO! I can't even look at it anymore!"

The ragtag group of assorted teenagers, who would seemingly have nothing in common from an outsider's perspective, were all sitting back and holding their stomachs by now. It was almost painful how much meat was straining to escape the linings of their stomachs. Actually, it was painful for some of them.

"Yyyyeah," Rise groaned in agreement with Yukiko's statement, arms like wet noodles at her sides. "My… I'm pregnant… food baby…"

"Even I'm feeling it a little," Chie was chuckling as Rise staggered to her feet. "And normally I can demolish one of these no sweat!"

"Must be… getting old," Yosuke said as their voices began to fade into the background. She could hear Satonaka clapping back at him, but once the bathroom door shut she could no longer identify words, just noise.

In fact… there was a new noise filling the ladies' restroom. Not a pleasant one. Brow furrowing as her lip curled in disgust, she glanced at the bottoms of the stalls and saw a pair of designer shoes with their soles facing up.

"Is… are you okay… in there?"

"HRRK!" What a weird noise — but not nearly as weird as the sound of pronounced retching that followed. God, how disgusting! Maybe she should just backpedal out of the bathroom… but before she could act, there was some spitting, a clearing of the throat, and a strained tone calling out, "Mind your own business! Do you have to be so fucking nosey?!"

Oh no. "Wait — Ebihara?"

"Yes! And this isn't something I want anybody to…" Another gagging noise. "Ugh… you probably have an Aqua Balance on you, don't you, Risette?"

Her eye twitched. "Just because I did the commercials doesn't mean I have a bag full of them on me at all times, you know!" But she still hated to hear a girl in need, so she forced herself to continue, "Need me to hold your hair back?"

"No, I… I got it. Practice."

"Practice? Just how often do you toss your cookies?!"

Dead. Silence. When it had gone on for a few seconds too long to be normal, Rise began to sense she had broached a topic that Ebihara did not want broached. Her brow creased harder, and eventually she said in a meek voice, "I'll… go get you some water."

"Thanks."

She was so preoccupied as she hit the bar to get some ice water for the prissy girl that she didn't even comprehend the words of her friends calling out to her — though she couldn't even see Chie and Yukiko at the table anymore. The rest were probably asking her what she was doing. And what was she doing? Why was she helping this complete bitch who would never do the same thing for her? There was no doubt in her mind that Ebihara would have completely ignored her if she found her voiding her stomach in a public restroom. Might even have laughed at her. But she still remembered how distraught she looked when they said goodbye to their mutual love interest.

Maybe hanging out with the Investigation Team had revived the conscience of a jaded teen idol who had taken a brief hiatus from the spotlight. No, it definitely had done that; what was in question was whether or not the same could be said of Ebihara's willingness to open up to her peers.

"Okay, here," she sighed as she opened the door — and almost ran straight into the girl's face. "WHOA!"

"Shit!" Ai yelped as she took a step back, then patted down her chest. "You made my soul leave my body — what the hell are you doing?!"

"Bringing you water! Do you need to add a little ginkgo to your diet, Obaachan?! It's been like one minute since I told you!"

"Fuck your water! I'm gone, I don't need this!" And she actually tried to push past her.

"Wha- hey! No, you don't just get to run off like this!"

"Don't you tell me what I can and can't do, you cow! Now get your goddamn cankles and your crow's feet out of my fucking way!"

Holy shit. That was a lot of random venom. Rise knew already that she didn't have either of those things, but she still felt the sting regardless.

"I… was trying to help you, but fine. Go away." And she stepped to the side with a flip of one of her mauve-tinted pigtails. "Don't let the door hit you on the way out, brat."

What a mistake it had been to be nice to Ebihara. They were too much alike. Sure, Rise knew how to be polite, and was always warm and affectionate with her friends, but they both had the Bitch Gene and it ran strong through their veins. Ebi just led with that instead of saving it for people who deserved it.

She wasn't sure how long she had been standing there, looking stubbornly into the corner, before she felt the glass of water being taken from her fingers. She started to grab after it — instinct telling her she had dropped it and needed to catch it — until she saw Ai swishing it around in her mouth, then turning to spit into the sink.

"Oh," she breathed.

"What?" Ai grunted before she tipped the glass up again and started gulping it down. The lacy choker above her turtleneck bobbed with every swallow.

"Nothing, I just thought- I mean, did you leave and come back?"

Breathing a loud sigh as she set the glass down, she turned to glare at Rise. "Nosey. You ask too many questions all the time."

"I do not! They're really normal questions; you're just a bitch."

Her eyebrows furrowed, and her jaw tightened. Rise was absolutely positive she was about to give her a tongue lashing. But then she just snorted and shook her head, looking away.

"Wow. I don't know what I expected from Risette, but it wasn't you."

"I know," she began, making this up as she went along. "You either thought I would be completely spoiled and stuck up like you, or I would be such a goody-goody that I never had anything mean to say about anyone. Those are the two flavours of idols, right?"

Ebi smirked and pressed an open palm to the center of her chest. "I spoil myself. And I told you what I went through as a child; don't I deserve it? Isn't this my time to shine?"

"Not if it means you piss off everyone around you while shining. That's just selfish, you know. Don't you care about anyone but yourself?"

"No. Why should I? They don't care about me." Her haughty tone turned bitter. "Nobody in Inaba. Not anymore."

Most of her ire fading, she said, "You gotta put yourself out there. This whole time we've been at Aiya, you barely said a word. I actually forgot you were here until I heard you puking your guts out."

"See my point? The boys who idolize me are the only ones that remember I exist. And even them… I know they don't care about me as a person. They just keep hoping a strong breeze will show them a little flash of my panties."

"No, that's not right. I'm trying to tell you that it's your fault."

"Excuse me?"

"How are we supposed to get to know you if you just hang in the background and never say anything? That doesn't-"

"Look, I don't need to take this," Ebi sighed with a roll of her hazel eyes. "At this point, I just want to go home and be alone. Is that allowed? Or are you going to block the door again?"

Rise's lips thinned in frustration. It wasn't worth it. She didn't want to keep banging her head against this brick wall anymore. So she didn't even say a word; just turned her back on Ebi before she said something particularly nasty.

"Thanks for the water," the other girl offered shortly as she strode out through the door. And that really was it.

"At least she thanked me," she muttered to herself as she finally took her place in one of the stalls to do her business. But in the back of her mind, she couldn't help but replay those conversations over and over in her head.

Because none of that blustering truly hid the fact that Ai Ebihara was in pain. And if nobody did anything about it, Rise was almost dead certain she was heading for disaster.

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To Be Continued…

#We'll Face Ourselves #ai ebihara #rise kujikawa #rise/ai #forkanna writes #persona 4 fanfiction #p4 fanfic #persona 4 #jess the writer

7 notes · View notes

sillyfudgemonkeys · 4 years

Note

Was reading your response to the Okumura Ryuji/Morgana fight, and the way the person worded Ryuji's character made me wanna ask... Do you think a bad fanbase is a fair reason to dislike a character? I've heard people say things like "no look at the character too", but... For example, I'm very neutral on Ryuji. When he's good, hes SO GOOD, EXCELLENT BOY, but Ann is my favorite girl. Guess who he pervs on exclusively and is rude to all the time? I've never seen his fans talk about (1/2 sorry)

His rude behavior, or his pervy tendencies, or his more selfish desires regarding the PT. That's fine!! Not everyone wants to constantly talk about bad things their fave has done!!! But people referring to him as a "woman respecting king" so insistently rubs me the wrong way, since he treats Ann Like That. That, and (more personal) i remember making a post/ask thing once about my grievances with Ryuji, esp his perv stuff, and the fans that interacted very aggressively denied his behavior (2/3)

And it even turned into a big discourse on the blog I submitted it to (it was that one confession blog). All the people that responded and just tried moving the arguments to "well Yusuke did this-" or even tried to push blame on Ann "she was asking for it" just kinda cemented my already growing dislike for Ryuji. Super sorry this is so long!!! Final question: is a bad fanbase a fair reason for disliking a character? (3/3)

Don’t say sorry about multiple sent asks, I don’t mind kfdsjla;fja As for the answer, I want to say yes and no, but really it’s just “yes with a side note attached.” Yeah, it’s ok to not like a char because of their fans, but I think it’s as long as you know why you dislike the char beyond the fans (well tbh, imo it’s usually the crazy fans so I think stans is a better word, but even then there’s diff stans). And tbh, I....can’t....think of a character I don’t like that the fandom/fanbase does....but I know nothing about the char all the while (closest and most recent example this....is....I know people dislike that grey haired moe blob on twitter even tho I don’t think they watched the show, and while I’m not a fan of the moeblobness I don’t know anything about the char so I’m personally not upset). I can only name chars I don’t like because of what happens in the text, fandom be damned (but sometimes they don’t help). Which is why it’s a yes with a side note. If you don’t like the char despite not knowing them.....probably get to know the char first even if your impression is clouded by the fandom....at least you gave the char a chance.

Under cut cause length (first few sentences in the first paragraph under the cut/tldr at the end gives you the answer a bit more in depth, the rest is rants related to that and why I get frustrated in a similar sense too, but yeah sorry if I repeat myself, I kinda jumped all over + my tendency to try to nail a point home I feel like might’ve had me repeat a bit more than usual akslfjdakfjaf):

I say this because.....it’s hard....it’s hard to keep them separated, unless you completely isolate yourself from the fandom (which is basically impossible if you wanna keep up with news, even the comment section is part of the fandom tbh...and you might be looking down their for diff reasons). And then.....well...the big reason....sometimes seeing the fans really highlights the reasons you dislike the char. That’s what happened to me and Makoto, specifically cause of....a certain fan (and buddy if you happen to see this, nothing against you, no bad blood, def won’t mention your name I respect you and the debates we had)....AND TO THE TUMBLR READERS WHO GET NERVOUS: It wasn’t on this website in case anyone is freaking out so if you’re thinking “Oh god it’s me” it is most likely not you (tho I think we do know each other on here cause of usernames/saw each other in passing but we def aren’t mutuals last time I checked), and while I do respect that person.......my god did they highlight the reasons I had issues with P5 and Makoto. Ironically in trying to defend her and show off her good sides, I realized the writing issues more and more and her bad sides became more glaring. It turned my frustrating dislike and attempt to try to work out my issues with her and P5 (ironically “working out” in hindsight would’ve been me....denying and refusing to look at P5′s flaws) into....well......the salt factory you know today. (same thing happens with like......Yukari and Junpei fans too tbh...that’s more recent tho, it feels like they are just downplaying their negatives constantly and I’m not about that). Basically, you probably have issues already, they are just more pronounced now.

As for “look at the character”....you kinda already are doing that, and that’s probably where your existing issues originated from (tho if someone wants a more in depth reason as to why, while you DON’T OWE them an explanation, it is also hard for someone to understand your feelings and reasons if you don’t try to explain).

As for Ryu, yea, I getcha, I like the guy, I’m neutral positive on him....was my best bro but he’s 2nd best thanks to post-Kamo writing. I like him because of his positives, but I always keep his negs in mind because. Cause like while I agree with the fans IT MAKES NO SENSE! P5′S WRITING IS BAD! it happened, same as I agree that Anne kicking Ryu’s ass, along with the other girls, is shitty. Hate the scene, and I accept that it happen (low key gonna start some kinda 2nd wave war with this bs cause the fandom be like that, but I’m really surprised no one took Anne smacking Ryu behind the neck cause he was being too loud as super offensive and abuse.......it’s def something a friend might do, not like belting him just a tap, and it’s framed as chill and also as warning him to reign in the volume control, but high key surprised no one has tried to cancel her cause of that). BUT that DOESN’T mean it erases all the creepy stuff he’s done. Is he the goodest boi when he’s being good? The best. Is he always a good boi? No, he def is not. And hearing that he is can be frustrating to people that do see his flaws (cause they are there). And like....you are 100% able to like a character despite and because of their flaws, while also accepting they have those flaws. I do it with Yosuke, Ryuji (for the most part), Teddie, Shinji, Ken, Kanji (when he’s not around Naoto, then he’s in a trash can for me), P1/2 casts, Aigis, Mitsuru, as long as the flaws are within reason and are treated pretty well....then I’m ok with it. (again, Kanji/Ryu have moments when I’m like....NOPE! but when they aren’t doing the bad thing I’m cool with them). As long as the flaws are withing reason (aka they aren’t making a jerk person out to be the person in the right, or the writing is trying to sweep what they did under the rug, or trying to force us into empathizing with them despite what they did while also trying ot sacrifice empathy towards another char.....*cough*Makoto/Yukari/Junpei*cough* if the writing isn’t doing that...... I’m probs neutral to pos on them).

Like I’m fine if they are criticizing the writing and being like “Him doing this makes no sense cause it conflicts with the good boi we’ve already seen!” That’s a-ok! Not only do you recognize your char has flaws, you also are able to identify issues with the writing. But saying “so I’ll choose to ignore that scene” isn’t....ok. Because sadly it did happen, as contradictory it did happen. AU it all you want, but you have to accept it happened outside of that AU. Like, I don’t like the Mika conflict in Anne’s CoOp, by which I don’t like how it went down (100% fine with Mika, and there being conflict with her). How it the whole thing started doesn’t make sense if you put MainStory!Anne in her CoOp. MS!Anne can read the room and other people’s emotions (only other person capable of that is Haru, or at least with Mona), hell she was so good at it she noticed something was up with Shiho without Shiho telling her about it! The issue was the fact Anne’s not a mind reader and could only assume the issue Shiho was going through that Anne was aware of (and that was her spot on the team). Now MS!Anne is not like Yosuke, she doesn’t put her foot in her mouth. She’s not like Naoto who can’t read the room. She’s not super eloquent, but can empathize and when she can interact with people she can do it pretty well. So why the hell does she basically not think before talking and insult Mika? Sure Anne’s not GREAT at school, but she’s not a moron, she can talk to people. But her CoOp makes her a moron all around, 100% airhead, and that’s how her issues with Mika start, by not thinking before talking and accidentally insulting her via blatantly “not caring” about the job to a full time person......it’s stupid, it makes no sense, I hate it. But it’s there, the flaw might not be present in the main story, but for the all around character (cause CoOps are included) it is now and I just have to deal with it. We can bitch about it all day (and trust me I will) but it happened. Basically never frame it as “it didn’t happen,” but instead “It SHOULDN’T HAVE happened.” One is denial, the other is critiquing the text.

Anyway my rant aside, yeah I hate it when...well Ren/Ryu/Yusuke (no one’s said Mona yet, cause....well yeah...which is good they haven’t labeled him as it yet tho), are labeled as “drinking respect women juice” and I’m like “I have one to a few women who would disagree.” I know some people will argue Goro is drinking it, and imo he’s not....he’s just eating the “I don’t discriminate sandwich” which is different. And yeah the “But Yusuke-” yeah yeah we’ll get to him, but right now we’re talking about RYUJI. I’m not a fan of derailing a topic *war flashbacks* *shivers* anyway. But yeah I remember that debate, I was probably one who was like “We’ll get to Yusuke but right now we’re talking about Ryuji” and pushing the blame onto Anne is disgusting and Kamo Arc!Ryuji would be very upset. >:( (btw high key I think I was the first one who started the first anti-makoto war wave with me saying “yeah Anne shouldn’t have apologized Makoto started it and blah blah she was an ass” not the exact words but basically just calling her out on her shitty behavior cause the game certainly didn’t......tho as Miley Cyrus would say.....”I didn’t mean to start a waaaaaar~!” I actually wrote my first Persona Problems on that topic.......but it got lost in the drafts....my photo examples kept getting messed up which is bad considering the whole post really relied on them....I should try to dig it up tbh....)

Tldr/short answer: Yeah, you probably already have issues with the char to begin with tbh, and the fanbase can highlight those issues more. It’s also hard to escape the fanbase (I see stuff I don’t wanna see despite trying my hardest to avoid certain circles, it just happens).

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terror-teru-bozu · 5 years

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So I found a fan translation someone did of one of the Persona 4 (Vanilla game!) CD drama’s, it’s quite long...but I just want to post the parts that have Dojima and Adachi in them because...well, because it’s those two!

The translation/localisation was done by aatash on Livejournal. So, more under the cut!

:: For the context of this particular excerpt, Dojima has returned home from work early, Adachi was tagging along. The investigation team have been working on their homework::

Dojima: I'm home! Adachi: Sorry for the intrusion! Nanako: Dad! Chie: Two excellent role models... Nanako: Welcome home! You're back early! Dojima: Yeah, I came back straight from the crime scene today. Souji: Welcome home. Dojima: Whoa, lots of people I see. All: Sorry for the intrusion! Nanako: Big Bro and the others are studying! Dojima: Really? That's pretty passionate. Naoto: We're not making much progress, I'm afraid. Rise: Maybe you could teach us, Dojima-san! Dojima: What? Me? Adachi: Haha, you can't ask Dojima-san! He's never even taken the exam for a promotion before! Dojima: Adachi... I'm more interested in a hands-on investigation. Adachi: Sure, that's what you always say. Rise: What about you, Adachi-san? Adachi: I may not look like it, but I'm quite an elite. Yosuke: Elite? Teddie: That's a wind instrument. Yukiko: That would make him a trombone. Chie: I think you mean a flute! Adachi: Let's see... Whoa! This is terrible! Single digits as far as the eye can see! Kanji: That last part was unnecessary. Adachi: Man, this brings back memories. What stuff are you learning in high school again? Mercury, Venus, Earth, Jupiter, Mars, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune, Pluto? Naoto: Adachi-san, Pluto is no longer considered a planet. Adachi: What?! Dojima: Looks like you just embarrassed yourself, Mr. Elite. Adachi: W-Well...! What about the Taika Reforms in the year 640? Chie: The Taika Reforms? Adachi: Heh, that's not good, guys! You should work on your Japanese history. Naoto: Are you talking about the Isshi Incident? Adachi: Huh? Chie: Oh, I've heard of that one! Fujiwara no Kamatari's involved, right? Naoto: Prince Naka no Oe and Nakatomi no Kamatari. Later known as Emperor Tenji and Fujiwara no Kamatari, they assassinated Soga no Iruka in the Isshi Incident. The Taika Reforms occurred thereafter due to an imperial decree proclaimed by Prince Taishi-- Yukiko: I thought you were a science person, Naoto, but you're well-versed in history too. Naoto: As a detective should be. Yukiko: Really? Chie: Just how super are detectives exactly? Adachi: 1192 is the year the Kamakura shogunate was formed! ... that hasn't changed, right?

Kanji: There's no point in learning history if it changes.

Adachi: H-History has nothing to do with investigations anyway! That's just for the college entrance exams!

Yosuke: What subjects apply in investigations, then?

Dojima: First of all, you need to be good at Japanese literature. Adachi, you made a mistake with the victim's name the other time.

Adachi: Do-Dojima-san! You don't have to say that here! L-Look! Once you use a computer too often, you tend to forget your kanji...

Dojima: Then why did you make that mistake on the computer? Geography's important too, but this guy can't read a map for nuts. He got lost with the patrol car for 30 minutes once.

Adachi: The streets of Inaba are really narrow! They don't even show on the map!

Souji: Aah. I got lost when I first came here, too. There are quite a few places to visit, like the riverside and the shopping arcade...

Adachi: It's complicated, isn't it? When I first got here, I lost my way even when I asked for directions. It was terrible!

Chie: That's an elite?

Yosuke: Makes you wonder what we're studying for. Teddie: Ohhh! I know what you're talking about! I saw it on TV! Because the economy is going into a recession, businesses are trying to stay afloat by laying off their employees!

Yosuke: So close and yet so far!

Dojima: Anyone hungry?

Souji: We've had dinner. Kanji made croquettes for us. I'm sorry, we weren't sure when you would return, so there aren't any left...

Dojima: No worries. We'll eat outside. Let's go, Nanako.

Nanako: I want a hamburger!

Dojima: Sure.

Adachi: Since we're going out, why don't we go for a Korean barbecue?

Dojima: Why don't you go home?

Adachi: Oh c'mon, you said you'd order take-out for us!

Dojima: They can't study if we're around!

Souji: That's not true.

Adachi: That's why you owe me a treat!

Dojima: What do you mean, "that's why"? Geez. Come on, let's go. Don't let the girls stay too late, you hear!

Guys: Yes, Sir. Adachi: Okay, thanks for having me over!

:: Later on in the CD drama, there’s a sports festival going on at the school::

Nanako: Big Bro! Souji: Nanako! What's wrong? Shouldn't you be with Teddie? Dojima: Yo. Work ended earlier than I expected. It's not your turn yet, right? Souji: Dojima-san! Adachi: Hi~ Naoto: Adachi-san? Adachi: He made me give him a ride in the patrol car. You're a slave-driver, Dojima-san! Dojima: Shut up! Go home already. Adachi: Since I'm here, I might as well watch you run before I leave. Nanako: You're running, dad? Dojima: There can't be any competitions for me to run in... Naoto: Ah! I believe there is still a competition for family members...

Announcer: We will now accept family members for the three-legged race. If you wish to apply, please proceed to the admin committee's tent. Souji: Dojima-san. Nanako: Is Big Bro and dad gonna take part? Souji: You are, Nanako. Nanako: Me? Dojima: Let's run together, Nanako. Nanako: But I'm really slow. We won't win first place. Dojima: We don't need to win first place. Nanako: But dad, you've always gotten first place. Dojima: I just want to run with you. Don't you want to run with me? Nanako: Nuh uh. I want to run with you, dad! Naoto: I will take care of the application, then. Yukiko: Ah! Naoto-kun, you shouldn't move. Souji: I'll do it! Dojima: Wow, he's fast. Adachi: Dojima-san, don't get too enthusiastic! You might fall! Dojima: Who do you think I am? Adachi: Well there's no point in getting first place, right? Dojima: Yeah there is. Adachi: There's a prize? Yukiko: Ah... um... if you win first place, you'll get vouchers to stay at Amagi Inn... Adachi: Really? That works then. Dojima: That's not the point, idiot. Souji: I've entered you just in time for the race. Dojima: Okay. We'll be right back. Hold my jacket for me. Souji: Sure. Dojima: Let's go, Nanako. Nanako: 'Kay! Adachi: Dojima-san definitely knew about this race. Souji: What? Adachi: He forced himself to finish all his reports so we could get here in time. Souji: I see. Adachi: Man... guess I provided some assistance to your family! Hehehe... Souji: Thank you very much. Adachi: It's nothing. I didn't do it for you, anyway... Track 9 Dojima: There we go. Is the string around your legs too tight? Nanako: Nope, it's okay. Dojima: Let's practice a little. Nanako: Okay. Dojima: On the count of two, we move our legs. We should decide which leg. How about the left? Ready, set... one, two--! Nanako: Dad... when I move my right leg, you have to move your left leg. Dojima: Ahhhh, I see. Sorry, sorry. Announcer: Participants of the second race, please gather at the starting point. Dojima: All right! Let's go. Nanako: Okay! Announcer: On your mark, set... Dojima & Nanako: One, two, one, two (x repeat) Chie: Nanako-chan! Dojima-san! You can do it! Rise: Hey, they're doing pretty well! Yukiko: Yes! They've bypassed one pair, so they're in second place! Naoto: Perhaps... it is altogether possible... Girls: Ah! Yosuke: They fell! Chie: It's okay, Nanako-chan! Naoto: It is all right. Dojima-san is providing a nice follow-up. They have dropped a few places, but... Souji: Nanako... Rise: Nanako-chan! Just a little more! Announcer: Participants of the third race, please gather at the starting point. Nanako: Fourth place... Dojima: We fell, huh. Did it hurt? Nanako: I'm okay. Dojima: Then let's go back to the rest. Nanako: I'm sorry, dad. Dojima: You don't need to apologize. Nanako: But we didn't get first place. Dojima: Did you want first place? Nanako: I wanted to get that with you. Dojima: So you didn't like running with me because we didn't win first prize? Nanako: No... Dojima: Then it's all right. Fourth place is very good, you know. Nanako: ... yeah! Dojima: C'mon, let's go back. Nanako: Okay! Souji: Welcome back. You did your best, Nanako. Nanako: Uh huh! We fell, but I tried my hardest! Souji: Yes. You did well. Nanako: Look what I got! It's a consolation prize! Jumbo pencils! We got four of them, so I'm splitting them in half with dad. We have matching pencils! Dojima: Hehe... they're a little long for a police organizer, but they're not bad. Adachi: What!? You got mad at me when I stuck stickers on my organizer! Dojima: This is different!

:: Eventually the baton race that Souji entered starts and determined not to undermine everyone else’s efforts, he throws himself into that race with full zeal!::

Announcer: And now, Class 2-2 has passed their baton! Yosuke: Ohh! He's in the last place, but he's starting off at full power! Awesome! As expected of my partner! Yukiko: You can do it! Chie: Go for gold! Nanako: Big Bro! Yukiko: You can do it! Adachi: Whoa... sweat flying everywhere. What's he getting so worked up for? Dojima: It doesn't matter. Sometimes you choose to do things without reason. Adachi: It's dumb, I tell you! Dojima: You can't call yourself an adult if you don't get passionate about something. Adachi: Right... anyway, I'm heading home. I've already seen your brave attempt. Dojima: You're leaving now? He's gonna win, you know. Adachi: Heh, you're such a doting guardian... Catch you later. :: And as an extra, here’s the actors sign-off at the end of the CD drama, I just found this rather sweet! ::

Daisuke: Thanks for the hard work, everyone. I'm Namikawa Daisuke and I play the main character. Once again, thank you for buying this CD. Um... well, this is volume 3 of the Persona 4 Drama CD collection, so it's quite a happy occasion. It means we've managed to produce a third volume thanks to your purchases. Well, as always, the main character is... hmm, because he's the main character... as always, he doesn't have a name and no one ever calls him by name. Thanks to his calm personality, I got through the recording without damaging my throat. The theme for this CD is: doing your best isn't uncool. That's a good theme! I really like that. It's a phrase I can easily relate to, so it struck a chord in me. I had a lot of fun with the other voice actors again, and the main character is much closer to the other characters now. I think he has gotten a little brighter. He's slowly doing his best to mix in and get more familiar with the rest, step by step. To me, the door to his heart is like a thick, iron door, which is finally opening. I will work hard for future volumes, so thank you again, everyone! This was Namikawa Daisuke. Shotaro: Hi, I'm Morikubo Shotaro and I play Hanamura Yosuke. Thanks for the hard work, everyone. All: Thanks for the hard work. Shotaro: Regarding sports festivals, my high school was really strong in baseball and American football, so we had tons of guys with great physique. Um... my homeroom teacher actually told me not to participate because it could get dangerous. It was so bad that the teacher told me to sit out for the pole crash. Madono: (overlap) The pole crash, huh? That's a dangerous one. Shotaro: It was really scary, yeah. One of my friends from the soccer club actually lost his front teeth... and got kneed by some guy from another class. Memories of my aggressive school returned through this CD! Yep. There were lots of shocking incidents, but I hope you enjoyed it! Coming up next is someone even more shocking. The person who has... tissue... in her glasses. All: LOL Yui: Yes... I'm Horie Yui and I play Satonaka Chie. Thanks for the hard work, everyone. All: Thanks for the hard work. Yui: Um, just to briefly touch on my glasses... glasses have several parts, you know, the bit supported by the ears and the part that connects the main frame, and the screw from the last part recently came off. I wasn't sure what to do, so I twisted a piece of tissue paper, tried pushing it through the hole, and it actually worked. It's holding up pretty well too, so I'm using it as part of my glasses-- Shotaro: You shouldn't do that! Madono: You wore that for a week? Yui: A week... but it really feels totally stable! Shotaro: You had tissue glasses for a week? Yui: Yes, I had tissue glasses. Madono: Get it fixed already! Shotaro: What about the other side? Yui: I might get it repaired if the screw comes out on the other side too, but it works surprisingly well, so please give tissue a try if your glasses get spoilt. Okay, thank you very much! Kanda: Ah, you're done? Ami: I'm Koshimizu Ami and I play Amagi Yukiko. Thanks for the hard work, everyone! Well... it's been a long time since we've had a recording for Persona 4, so I was a little nervous when we first started, but I was very happy to have the chance to play Yukiko again. Also, um... it's been a while since the game, but meeting up with the rest again was like... how should I put it? Like a reunion of sorts! That's how I felt. Yep, yep. Um, this CD focused on a sports festival, and Yukiko gave her support in her own special way, so... wow, I think everyone had magnificent ways of giving support! I've learned a lot! I hope there will be more continuations to come! Thank you again for the hard work! Thank you very much! Seki: Okay! I'm Seki Tomokazu and I play Tatsumi Kanji. So, we've made it up to volume 3 of the Drama CD collection! We've worked together for a while, but I still hope we can keep this up. Um... it's a game I actually managed to play to the very end, so I like it very much. It'd be great if there's more stuff produced besides the Drama CDs. Um... with regards to Kanji, he has far more lines in volume 3 than the last two, so it was great for me! Thank you very much. Kappei: As always, everyone has interesting comments. Anyway, I'm Yamaguchi Kappei and I play Teddie. Thanks for the hard work, everyone. All: Thanks for the hard work. Kappei: So, a sports festival huh? It feels like ages since I've been to one. Somehow, it's... well... um... wow, I really can't remember. It was really a while ago! Well the theme for this CD is: doing your best isn't uncool. We only do the stuff we think we can do. So we have to be confident! And the Class 2-2 cheer was interesting, wasn't it? Humans naturally get caught up in that sort of thing. Of course, this is the finished product, so I'm sure you heard a very good cheer, but I have to tell you, we took many tries to record this cheer properly. Shotaro: Just to say "Class 2-2", right? Kappei: Right. We only do the stuff we think we can do. We learned that lesson thoroughly. Also, it was a very fun CD as always, and we had great conversations that made us laugh very hard. The work was tough, but this series will continue; or at least, I really hope we can continue this series. Um... I hope you found it interesting. Yep! The next person is uh... Risette, right? Rie: Yes! Kappei: Okay. Please do the honors! Rie: Okay! Rie: I'm Kugimiya Rie and I play Kujikawa Rise. Thanks for the hard work, everyone. All: Thanks for the hard work. Rie: Everyone is making such interesting comments, so I'm not really sure what to say. I think I'll just saw a few words and pass it on to the next person... I really don't have much to say, so, um.. if I have to make a comment, the Class 2-2 call was really... really... well, I do wonder why I'm always making the odd comment on the side. Kappei: And meanwhile Yosuke has so many lines. Shotaro: You don't have to put it that way. Rie: That's true. Yosuke-san always pops into the picture. Then I'd get stunned by his appearance. I don't think you can hear that from the finished product. But anyway, I hope the Persona 4 Drama CD collection will keep growing! So thank you very much! The next person, please go ahead. Paku: I'm Paku Romi and I play Shirogane Naoto. Um... for this CD, Naoto said a lot of difficult words again. I really adore Naoto and this is one of my favorite roles, but the one problem I always face is that Naoto uses a lot of difficult words. I wish I could have the extent of her knowledge, but really... um... whether you're smart or not, you can be anything you like as long as you work hard. I think this is amazing. No matter how old you are, I think working hard towards that one goal is an extremely wonderful thing to do, so even if I become an old grandma, I'll do my best to live an ambitious life. I hope you will all listen to this drama CD and reach for your goal as well. Let's live a passionate life together! That's all! This was Paku Romi. Kanda: That was Paku-san's comment. Kappei: Man, Paku Romi's so interesting! Kanda: She's amazing, isn't she? Yes! Hello, I'm Kanda Akemi and I play Dojima Nanako! Thanks for the hard work, everyone! Great job! All: Thanks for the hard work. Kanda: The focus is on the sports festival for this CD, but I don't really have any memories... of my sports festival. I can't remember a thing. I wonder what happened at my sports festival, but... Shotaro: A sports festival happened, that's all. Kanda: *giggles* This time, Nanako-chan managed to run a three-legged race with her dad, so I was really happy with that scene. The highlight for Nanako this CD is um... her dad's little mutter at the very, very end, so everyone, please listen carefully to the very last part of the CD! With that, I would like to pass the mike onto my dad! Unsho: I'm Ishizuka Unsho and I play Dojima Ryotaro. Shotaro: Could you start talking after you get to the mike? Unsho: It's okay, the mike caught my voice. It's fine. Meat is great, isn't it? Right? Once you get to my age, thick meat is kind of painful. All: *LOL* Shotaro: You talked about Korean barbecue? Unsho: I did, yeah. Uh... sports event, was it? That was so long ago, I've completely forgotten what it was like. I don't remember running or anything, but I do remember cheering for people. In the back of the mountains - I lived in the countryside, see - in the back of the mountains, we were supposed to cheer loudly for classmates on the school grounds. We were told to cheer loud enough for a girl sitting on the school grounds to hear us and turn around - man, we were so rural, cheering in the mountains - and I kept thinking, there's no way she'll turn around! I couldn't say that because it was my Senpai who told us to do that, but it was impossible anyway. That's what I remember of my sports events. Sports events... usually they're held in the fall, but nowadays they have them in spring, right? Shotaro: Ah, yeah... Unsho: That's what I've heard. But when I think of sports events, I still think of fall. Anyway, allow me to call on my Senpai. Hey, Senpai. Please do the honors. I've changed, you know. Madono: Please stop. Um... sorry about that. I'm Madono Mitsuaki and I play Adachi Tohru. This is normal for you guys, but it's my first time appearing in a drama CD. Did you know that? Shotaro: No we didn't! Madono: Well it is. Nice to meet you. Yui: Nice to meet you~! Madono: I'm Adachi Tohru-kun. I just heard about this earlier, but... um... actually, fans have been asking for Adachi Tohru to appear on the drama CDs. Kappei: Oh! Shotaro: Really! Madono: They were like, bring him out! Why isn't he out yet? Because they kept asking for him, he finally appeared! All: Ohh... Madono: Some of you are nodding. So.. the voices of fans are important! Yui: Yes. Madono: I'm sure everyone here feels the same way! Right, Namikawa? "Yes, that's right." Namikawa-kun agrees! Rie: Is that how he sounds like? Madono: Right, Paku Romi? "Yes, that's right." Shotaro: They sound the same. Unsho: They do! Madono: Who else is there? Ahhh, Seki, Seki, Seki. Right, Seki? You agree, don't you? "Yeah!" All: *lol* Shotaro: You laugh right after you say it! Madono: Right, Koshimizu? "You're right!" Shotaro: We get it! We get it already! That's enough! Unsho: You actually did it four times... Madono: We all feel that way, so fans... please keep pushing for Persona 4. Thank you for supporting us. I'm the last one, right? Shotaro: Yes. Madono: So... please buy the CD. Thank you very much!

#Persona 4 CD Drama #This is a long post!

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chroniccombustion · 5 years

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Caught in the Grey (ch 4)

Genre: Trans!AU, hurt/comfort, romance, angst with a happy ending Rated: T Characters: Souji Seta (Yu Narukami), Yosuke Hanamura, Naoto Shirogane, Kanji Tatsumi, Investigation Team, Izanagi/Shadow!Souji Warnings: depression, dysphoria, disassociation, self-hatred, implied suicide attempt, suicidal thoughts, mentions of homophobia, implied past child abuse and transphobia, canon-typical violence, mild sexual content Status: multi-chapter, incomplete

Playlist: Spotify | Youtube <- previous chapter | next chapter ->

It’s not fair; Souji is already one of the best looking guys in Inaba. Yosuke knows it, can admit it now, because there really isn’t any way he couldn’t, what with the sheer number of admirers his partner has amassed, which also isn’t fair. To be forced to admit that Souji also makes one of the best looking girls Yosuke has ever seen is just downright cruel. He’s gorgeous.

Chapter 4: Dream About That Casual Touch

“I over communicate and feel too much, I just complicate it when I say too much. I laugh about it, dream about that casual touch. Sex is fire, I’m sick and tired of acting all tough.”

- (“Feelings”, Hayley Kiyoko)

October

The noise level backstage is weird. Yosuke can hear the muffled sounds of the students out in the auditorium, the volume masking just how many people are actually there, waiting to see a bunch of guys forced into dresses against their will. Everything is just… bullshit. (He hates the girls so much right now; even if he does kind of deserve it after getting them all trapped in a similar boat.)

He scratches nervously at the sweater… vest… thing that Chie had given him to wear. It’s itchy. How come girls’ clothes are so uncomfortable? Are all girls’ clothes like this? He really hopes not. That would suck.

Speaking of suck, the backstage area is not a place Yosuke has ever been before but has quickly decided is not a place he ever wants to be again. It’s hot, it’s dark, and the only thing keeping any of them from tripping over shit and falling on their faces is the dull glow of the muted florescent bulbs spaced widely throughout the area, which really doesn’t do much of anything at all. Yosuke is pretty sure he’s going to run into something and break his nose. How the hell do the drama club kids do this on a regular basis?

For as narrow of a space as it is there are also way too many people in it for Yosuke to feel comfortable. Not that he’s exactly relaxed anyway, what with the itchy sweater thing and the skirt and the people waiting to see him in the sweater thing and the skirt. There’re a handful of theatre kids off to the side, wandering to and fro upon occasion, doing whatever it is theatre kids do behind the scenes. There’s also someone that looks like they might be a teacher over near the entrance (Yosuke admittedly didn’t look too hard), probably acting as some kind of half-assed supervisor.

Chie, Yukiko, and Rise were back here, too, some time ago, but Yosuke hasn’t seen them for a little while, so he thinks they may have gone off to do girl things or help set up. Either way, Yosuke is kind of glad they aren’t around right now. He thinks he might have also seen Naoto earlier for a scant few minutes, hovering near where a duffle bag now rests by the wall. They’d disappeared pretty quickly, though, so it could very well have been someone else.

And then of course there are the poor bastards about to be paraded out on stage for the rest of the school to gawk at. Yosuke sighs. He really hates everything right now; he’s stuffed into the most humiliating outfit he’s ever worn and the smells of the hair spray and fruity, nasty lipgloss Chie slathered all over his mouth are combining in his nose to give him the headache of the century. He feels sticky, jittery, and uncomfortable in not only every way physically possible, but also mentally. Fuck.

Off to the side, Kanji doesn’t look like he’s doing a whole hell of a lot better. Sure, he keeps pulling at his dress, holding the lower half of it out in front of him to stare at, turning it this way and that apparently just to watch it move, but Kanji is also the son of a seamstress, so that just makes sense. The dress aside, however, Kanji’s wig is cheap and he is clearly too tall for his outfit – too much leg and too unsteady in the ungodly-high heels he’s been forced to wear. Yosuke actually feels just the tiniest bit worse for Kanji than he does for himself; at least Yosuke’s shoes are flat.

Teddie, the runt, has apparently run off to parts unknown, spouting some excuse about keeping his look a “surprise.” Damn bear, Yosuke thinks. Teddie isn’t even a student here, there’s no punishment waiting for him should he decide to bail on them and he knows it. The only reason he’d even been signed up in the first place was because Teddie had begged and pleaded and whined until Yosuke finally put his name on the list with the rest of them. (The girls evidently did think about it but since the teachers wouldn’t even know who Teddie was, they’d figured it was impossible to make it stick if they did.)

But now the loud little mascot has vanished, leaving only the trio of Yosuke, Kanji, and Souji to face the proverbial guillotine.

Souji.

For what has to be the hundredth time in the last half hour, Yosuke glances over at where his partner stands silently in the darkest, farthest corner of the room.

Souji looks utterly lifeless. He stares at nothing, eyes dark and vacant in the crappy backstage lighting, standing stock-still and completely soundless. It’s almost like he’s not even there. Yosuke can’t blame him, really; he himself would be gone in a heartbeat if he thought he could manage to pull it off. Sadly, he hasn’t yet mastered whatever technique it is that has Souji so focused all the time – like, all the time – so Yosuke has no mental tricks of his own to help him escape his current situation.

Still though, the more Yosuke looks at him (and Yosuke has been catching himself looking a lot during these past 30 minutes,) the more he seems to notice about his best friend. He notices the way Souji’s long silver wig frames his face and makes it softer, more regal, (though Souji has always had a kind of imperial look to his features.) He notices how Souji seems to almost glow in the dim yellow light – washed out, wraith-like, monochromatic. He notices the way the deep charcoal of Souji’s uniform makes every tiny bit of visible skin stand out sharply in contrast.

He notices how it makes Souji looks like some kind of wandering apparition, moon-kissed and ethereal.

Yosuke looks away, shaking his head until he makes himself dizzy.

He’s gorgeous.

Yosuke shakes himself again and focuses on the way it makes his headache throb so he doesn’t have to wonder why his stomach is swooping like he’s in free-fall.

It’s so un-fucking-fair.

Everything just fits Souji better, too, seems to sit on his body like it was made to compliment him. The outfit, the wig, the swipe of color across his lips, it all looks almost uncannily natural on him in a way that Yosuke just can’t figure out. For a moment, if Yosuke didn’t know any better, he could almost imagine that the person in front of him is actually a girl.

And ohhh fuck, what a damn good looking girl he makes, too – the exact kind of girl Yosuke would be tripping over himself to hit on, and Yosuke curses his own damn brain for the confusion crackling through him right now. His hormones keep niggling at him, poking him, reminding him that he’s a teenaged boy and that he finds girls attractive, that he’s been sexually frustrated his entire high school life. Girlfriend? they whisper.

No! he hastily tries to correct them. Souji! Partner! BOY!!

Souji is a boy and his best friend and Yosuke shouldn’t be starting at him like he used to (used to? Past-tense?) stare at Rise and Yukiko and every other girl he ever thought was hot. He shouldn’t keep having to remind his breathing not to quicken or his face not to burn and what is happening here?

He bows his back and hunches over, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes until little sparks of light start to form behind his eyelids. He groans.

The thing is, Souji isn’t even doing anything, just keeping to himself like a mannequin in a shop window. It’s almost creepy.

Actually, it’s… kind of concerning. Souji is a pretty quiet person in general, yeah, but usually he’s not this quiet, this still, this detached. Yosuke peeks out between his fingers and back over at his best friend, wondering suddenly if maybe something is wrong. Well, more wrong that everything already is.

Souji hasn’t moved so much as an inch since Yosuke looked at him last; his prop bokken is still slung over his shoulder like his katana in the TV world, his fingers clutching it so tightly they’re turning white beneath the shitty lamps. The only sign of life is the way he blinks every few seconds – something his body does without him telling it to, like breathing or pumping blood. If Souji is in there he’s somewhere very, very far away.

Yosuke wonders if he should go over there and check on him. He’d been so preoccupied feeling sorry for himself in his damn miniskirt that it hadn’t really occurred to him before now that his partner seems…

Yosuke glances at Kanji. His kohai is frowning down at the hunk of dress he’s got pinched between his fingers, apparently scrutinizing the quality of the fabric. He doesn’t look happy about cross-dressing, but he also doesn’t look like he’s left his body and faded into nothingness. Kanji looks similar to how Yosuke feels, pissed and uncomfortable with a “can we please get this over with?” kind of vibe around the set of his mouth. Souji, on the other hand, is a soulless doll.

Standing back up from his crouch, Yosuke allows himself to look over at Souji once more, this time staring deliberately to see if he can pick out anything that might give him a clue as to whether he should be worried or not. He flicks his eyes across Souji’s expressionless face, looks to the bone-colored fingers around the bokken, watches the (convincing) swell of Souji’s chest to make sure it still rises and falls with breath the way it should. His gaze drops then, to the gentle curve at Souji’s waist, accentuated by the cut of his uniform top. It travels downwards, past his partner’s hips, which seem fuller now, more prominent, thanks to how the waistband of the skirt cinches right above the jut of his hipbones. They look perfect, like they would be just the right shape to fit in Yosuke’s hands, just the right place to rest his palms, to gently pull and bring the two of them closer together until they were pressed hip to hip…

Yosuke’s mouth goes dry.

He whips his head back around like he’s been stung, heart suddenly pounding inside his chest so hard it nearly knocks him over. Guilt and something hot, tight, tingling settles low in his gut, mixing together into a wave of breathlessness that leaves him feeling like he’s just been caught doing something wrong.

What the hell, what the hell, what the hell?!

This is Souji – he’d just been ogling Souji, had just been fantasizing about putting his hands on Souji. His best friend in the whole world, his partner. Yosuke sucks in air through his nose and tries to regulate his breathing, wiping his suddenly clammy hands down the sides of his skirt.

It has to be a fluke; they’re all dressed like girls and Yosuke has never so much as kissed a girl and his libido is confused because Souji’s costume looks way too real and oh my GOD. This is so stupid, he’s going to throttle whomever picked out their outfits.

“Hey uh, Yosuke-senpai? You don’t look so good.”

Yosuke is broken out of his thoughts with a sharp exhale. Looking over, he sees Kanji watching him with a curious expression, one thinned-down eyebrow quirked high. It takes Yosuke a second to react, to run Kanji’s words through his mind and actually understand them. Eventually though, he nods.

“Y-yeah,” he squeaks. He swallows against the dryness seeping down his throat, runs his tongue across his lips to wet them. “Yeah, I’m not really feelin’ too great right now.” He tries to give his kohai a weak laugh but it comes out instead as a wheeze. Kanji’s other brow goes up to join the first. Yosuke clears his throat and looks away. “It’s nothing, it’s just nerves.”

Kanji makes a sound of agreement. “I feel ya, Senpai, the waitin’s the worst. I kinda wish they’d just get started already.”

Yosuke tilts his head back and groans. “Or never start at all,” he says. “Just cancel it, let us go home. That’d be even better.” He lolls his head over – grimacing at the way the damn strawberry hair clip tugs at his scalp – just in time to see Kanji running the hem of his dress through his fingers again, a slight frown on his face.

“It’d almost be a waste’a time at this point, wouldn’t it?” Kanji asks, still staring at the white fabric in his hands. “Think they’d miss this?”

Confused, (but hey, textile shop, so whatever,) Yosuke is about to open his mouth and form a reply when suddenly there is the crackle of a microphone overhead, the speakers up above them humming to life. The lights backstage seem to dim even further until everything around them becomes nothing more than fuzzy outlines and indiscernible shapes. Great.

A voice Yosuke doesn’t recognize comes over the line, calling out a final sound check. There are more words, something that sounds like a greeting, but Yosuke doesn’t pay them any attention; he’s too busy suppressing the urge to flee and never look back. He springs upright, body locked into a stance of pure dread by his live-wire nerves. Beside him, in what remains of the light, he can see Kanji making a face that can only be summed up as, ‘oh for fuck’s sake’. Yosuke doesn’t think he’s ever felt a bigger connection to his teammate than in this one excruciating moment.

The announcer says more words through the speakers and Yosuke can feel himself start to vibrate with nervous energy. Yeah, he thinks, it would have been so much better if they had just canceled the whole damn thing. He’s so jittery, so absolutely fucking nervous, that he almost doesn’t notice someone stepping up beside him. Granted, the lights backstage are almost completely off right now, and the person that just apparently blinks into existence next to him is wearing really dark colors, but it still takes longer than it probably should for Yosuke to realize he now has someone on his left.

He startles when he does notice, though, and nearly jumps sideways into Kanji before he manages to stop himself. He’s got a pretty good handle on controlling the way his body moves by now – at least, he’d like to think he does – thanks to all the time spent fighting and training inside the TV. It’s kept him safe, kept him from doing stupid shit like knocking over his kohai, and it’s also what prevents him from instinctively slashing out at the figure beside him with a kunai that isn’t there.

It still takes him a stupid amount of time to recognize the shape of Souji standing beside him in the darkness.

“Shit, Partner,” he breathes, feeling his heart hammering away inside his ribs. “You scared the hell out of me.”

Souji doesn’t respond.

Yosuke fixes his center of gravity and leans in a little closer to his friend. ”Partner?” he calls, squinting against the lack of light. “Earth to Souji?” He reaches out a hand and waves it by Souji’s face.

No reaction.

That is… concerning. Yosuke gnaws at a part of his lower lip, teeth scraping the sticky, sickly-sweet lipgloss into his mouth where he winces at the taste. It doesn’t matter though; his friend is quite clearly not himself and with a limited amount of time and no privacy, Yosuke isn’t sure what to do here. Souji has never seemed to need anything from him before, always being the one to listen and help and console, but right now Yosuke’s partner is a million miles away and, not for the first time, Yosuke wishes he could be the helping friend for a change. Souji has always been there for him, even when he didn’t have to be; the least Yosuke could do in return is make sure his best friend isn’t silently having a stroke.

He just… doesn’t really know what he’s doing. Having real friends is hard.

Yosuke glances around, making sure there’s no one watching them (Kanji doesn’t count, he’s part of the team), before taking a hesitant step into Souji’s space and leaning in to try and see his face through the gloom. His partner stares straight ahead, eyes so dark in the low light that it almost looks like they aren’t there at all. Lifeless pools of empty blackness, holes in a featureless mask.

“Dude,” Yosuke whispers, growing more and more on-edge as the seconds pass and Souji still doesn’t return from wherever he is. “Partner, come on, you’re creeping me out here.”

Cacophony. The din of the audience comes two-fold back to them, both from the crowd itself and also its echo through the speakers. It grates at Yosuke’s ears. He grimaces, turning his attention away from his friend for just a few seconds to focus back in on what’s happening. Over on his right, Kanji makes an unhappy sound and clacks his way over to the curtain. In the marginally better lighter filtering in from the stage, Yosuke sees Kanji take a deep breath, square his shoulders, and stomp out into the sea of noise and people. Yosuke feels his stomach drop out.

There is a soft inhale from beside him. It sounds wet, like a gasp that nearly became a choke, quiet and unsteady. Yosuke turns towards it just in time to see Souji blinking like he’s just woken up from a particularly bad dream. Souji inhales again, just a shallow, just as shaky, and for a moment, in the dark, Yosuke thinks his partner might be trembling.

The MC is talking again, gearing up to call the next one of them out, and Yosuke knows that no matter which of them is called he only has a few more seconds to try and help his friend.

But he doesn’t know what to do. His options are severely limited due to space and dark and their rapidly dwindling time. All he can think of as the announcer calls his name over the speakers is to shoot his partner a worried look he isn’t sure Souji can even see. “Bro, Souji, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Souji whispers, and Yosuke doesn’t have time to decide if he believes him or not before someone – probably a drama kid – comes up behind him and practically shoves him out onto the stage.

Souji disappears the moment the pageant is over and the four of them are released from their torment.

Well, three, technically, since Teddie still looks like he’s having the time of his life.

Yosuke tries to spot his partner backstage, to check on how he’s doing, but Souji must have something with Garudyne equipped because Yosuke swears he doesn’t even get a chance to blink before Souji is straight up gone. Their leader breezes from the stage wings, over to the wall, pulling off his wig as he goes and tossing it to a startled techie off to the side. In one seamless motion, Souji scoops up the duffle bag that maybe-Naoto left there earlier and strides out into the back hallway. Yosuke is left to weakly call out after him to no avail, all the while unable to follow because an exuberant Teddie decides right at that moment to bodily fling himself at Yosuke and latch on like a limpet. Yosuke contemplates prying the shoujo-anime-reject off him and tracking his partner down, but with as fast as Souji was walking, Yosuke knows it’s likely a lost cause at this point. He doesn’t feel like scouring the entire school.

Besides, he tells himself only barely convincingly, Souji must be fine now if he’s actually moving again. He’d been… better? possibly? while on stage – at least when Yosuke got a chance to sneak a look at him in between the humiliation and the public speaking. Souji had said his lines when his turn with the microphone came up and swung the bokken down like it was an extension of his arm, as fierce and fluid as he was with his sword. But… it had been… off, somehow. Just a little. Enough that Yosuke, who was so used to watching Souji, so used to studying him (out of awe and envy and very minor idolization, but hell if Yosuke would ever say that out loud,) had managed to pick up on it in the handful of seconds he’d had to work with.

Souji had moved with practiced ease – something Yosuke is sure took no real mental effort to accomplish. His words had been low, monotone, spoken like a robot, and as much as Yosuke is certain a lot of that is just how his partner is, he also hadn’t been able to stop his mind from conjuring up the image of a string-controlled puppet. An automated marionette with a database full of preprogrammed responses, picture-perfect in its humanity but cold and empty behind the eyes.

Yosuke shivers at the memory.

With no way of knowing just where Souji has run off to and with his costume starting to get more than a little claustrophobic, Yosuke finally just extracts himself from Teddie’s grip and starts off for the dressing rooms. He’ll go back, change his clothes, get the fucking makeup off his face, and wait until Souji decides he’s ready to rejoin them. Who knows? Maybe he’ll be fine after putting his normal clothes back on and Yosuke won’t even have to worry anymore.

Yeah, he thinks as he gathers up his (boy’s) uniform and starts tugging the hair tie from his head. His partner is probably fine, just eager to put the whole traumatizing pageant behind him like Yosuke is.

He lets the thought settle while he starts to change, repeating it over and over again to himself until he actually starts to believe it.

Everything’s fine.

Everything is not fine.

Yosuke stares down at his phone screen, his brows furrowing so hard that it’s starting to hurt.

0 unread messages, it reads. Fuck.

He sighs heavily, the sound quickly turning into something long and drawn out, gravelly in the back of his throat. He rolls over onto his back on the bed and brings his hands up to cover his eyes, the phone face down and discarded on his chest. Souji hasn’t texted him back yet.

His partner had reappeared somewhere between the first time Yosuke had gone back to the classroom (after he finished changing), and the second time (after he’d been told by Rise that none of the girls had anything to take the makeup off with and he’d had to run back to the theatre students and ask them.) When Yosuke had finally made it back – albeit empty handed – he’d found Souji seated in one of the desks shoved up against the wall by the door, looking blotchy and drained.

He’d wanted to talk to Souji then, since at the time it had looked like his friend was mostly back to normal despite the clear exhaustion. In his exuberance over Souji magically producing a pack of makeup wipes from his bag, however, Yosuke had evidently lost his only remaining chance, as by the time he and Kanji were making their way back to the room (again), Souji had been leaving.

Well, no, that wasn’t quite right; Souji had been running. He’d come tearing out of the classroom as Yosuke and Kanji were coming up the hallway, hugging the doorframe as he exited and nearly slamming into the wall beside the door. Yosuke had nearly shouted in surprise, battle-born instinct kicking in and immediately trying to check for damage he’d been too far away to actually see. But before either he or Kanji could properly react beyond that, Souji had pushed off the wall and gone sprinting towards them, past them, away from them and down the hall to the stairwell, moving like the Reaper was two steps behind.

Yosuke slides his hands up into his hair and tugs until it stings. The sensation is sharp, grounding, it puts him back in the present, back in his bedroom at home with the sound of Teddie downstairs, pestering Yosuke’s mom to let him help with dinner. It keeps him from thinking about how absolutely shattered his partner’s expression had been for the brief second Yosuke had been able to see it as Souji dashed past. Brow furrowed as if in pain, eyes bright and frantic like dying stars, with deep-set lines around them, tight with tension. Yosuke didn’t even know Souji was capable of making that face.

He doesn’t like that Souji is.

It’s unsettling, first of all, to see their normally unshakable leader so visibly distressed. Souji is stoic at the best of times, even outside of combat, with expressions that don’t seem to change much but can make you warm and fluttery or pin you in place when they do. He’s like one of those optical illusion puzzles – twist one line around his mouth, make one minute shift in detail, and Souji goes from soft and kind to stone and fury. It’s what makes him the perfect Commander in the TV world, the best kind of Best Friend outside it, and to see him so drastically different leaves Yosuke reeling.

But on a more personal level, looking past just the obvious physical change, it’s terrifying. For something to have messed with Souji so badly as to warp his carefully controlled expression into that…

Yosuke feels the curling self-doubt start to take root in his mind. Something had clearly been bothering Souji for most of the day, and Yosuke – who is supposed to be Souji’s friend, his equal, his partner – wasn’t able to do anything about it. He’d missed his chance, taken too long to act, and whatever Souji had been dealing with had escalated to the point of boiling over, leaving Yosuke to gawk stupidly while the best friend he’d ever had tore through the stairwell door like he was dying.

Yosuke is faced with two very heavy realizations because of this. First, that Souji is, in fact, shakable. And second, that Yosuke was genuinely stunned to learn this first fact, which implies a lot about his mindset that Yosuke doesn’t like. Maybe he’s just as guilty as the rest of the town about putting Souji up on a pedestal. He thought he wasn’t; he doesn’t like knowing he might have been wrong.

He lets out another sigh and stares up at his ceiling. He feels so useless right now; his friend was hurting, might still be hurting, and no one knows where Souji is or what happened to make him bolt. Yosuke checks his phone again. Still nothing.

GOD!

With a noise of frustration, Yosuke heaves himself upright and tosses his phone to the end of the bed. He hates this so much! To be stuck here not able to do anything or even know where to begin – if only Souji would answer him, answer somebody! Yosuke keeps checking with the others, every thirty minutes or so, and he’d forced himself to wait that long, even, as he figured no one would like him much if he just kept badgering them. Not that checking every five seconds would change anything. Besides, he has to keep reminding himself to trust his friends, to trust that they’ll spread the news as soon as someone hears from him, gets word, spots him, anything.

(The thought that Souji might contact one of the others first leaves an odd sort of clenching feeling in Yosuke’s chest that he doesn’t really want to think about right now.)

I should have gone after him.

For the millionth time that evening, Yosuke mentally kicks himself for all the things he should have done differently – knowing full well the hindsight won’t help, but being unable to do anything productive leaves him with nothing else. He should have run after Souji when his partner had sped by him, should have followed, should have tried to catch him. Instead, Yosuke had stared after him in shock, only spurring his feet to move long after Souji had vanished through the stairwell door. By the time Yosuke had finally reacted, Souji had seemingly evaporated, leaving behind only a visibly rattled Naoto near the middle of the stairs.

“I-I don’t know where he went.” Naoto had said when Yosuke had frantically asked if they’d seen his partner. They’d been trembling, just slightly, bracing their weight on the stair rail with one arm and holding themself with the other, tight and close like they could hold in the minute tremors if they squeezed hard enough.

Yosuke doesn’t think he’s seen them that distressed since they’d faced their own shadow. For both Souji and Naoto to be so freaked at the same time is nearly incomprehensible to Yosuke. It scares him.

There had been almost no time to search after all of that, either, only about fifteen precious minutes to run through the halls in a vain attempt at spotting the familiar silver of Souji’s hair before the girls (and Naoto) were called away to get ready for their own pageant hell. Kanji and Naoto had split up to help him search before Naoto had had to leave them; Yosuke hadn’t wanted to frighten the others. Instead, he’d stamped down his jitters as best he could and asked them if they knew where Souji had gone, had they seen him, had he come back to the room at all? All anyone had known was that Souji had apparently stood up, very quickly, mumbled an “excuse me”, and strode from the room like the rapids in a river, gathering speed as he went until he’d swung himself around the doorframe without so much as pausing. Polite to the end, even while moments away from slamming into a wall and taking off down the hallway like a shot.

They’d all been worried, obviously, especially Teddie, who’d apparently been clinging to him at the time, but it was only after the second pageant was over that the concern about Souji’s absence and failure to return really started to show on everyone’s faces. They’d all talked, voices hushed and heads together like they were plotting back at the Junes food court, about going to search for their leader, their friend, but the rooms had to be cleaned up, the last of the decorations packed away, and by the time they could all leave the sun had begun to set.

Which left Yosuke back at the present point, hands empty and head too full.

He wondered if he could possibly sneak out, go check the Dojima residence before his parents even knew—but no. No, it would take too long and Teddie would notice first and whine and tell Yosuke’s mom, and even if Yosuke managed to get there what would he do if Souji wasn’t at home? He’d risk scaring Nanako, risk running into Dojima-san. The whole thing would have the potential to go so horribly, horribly sideways and blow up into something messy and tangled. He doesn’t want to get Souji in trouble, doesn’t want to frighten Nanako, doesn’t want to get grounded for sneaking out when he’s supposed to be home because his mom wants to have a rare family dinner together while no one is on shift.

Sending a silent ‘pleasepleaseplease’ to anyone, anything that might be listening, Yosuke fishes his phone back out from the covers at the foot of his bed and checks the screen.

0 unread messages.

Yosuke thinks he might be going insane.

Opening his contact list, Yosuke pulls up Souji’s number at stares at it. He’s called so many times, left so many messages – each one left unanswered, unread. It would be one thing if Souji were seeing them and just not responding. (It would be a bad, hurtful, worrying thing, but one thing on its own.) It’s a completely different thing for Souji to not be reading them at all.

Maybe he lost his phone or it ran out of battery, maybe he’ll call back after it’s finished charging. Or maybe something happened and Souji’s lying unconscious in an alley somewhere, unable to move let alone check his texts.

Yosuke shakes himself. No, he can’t think that. He’s not ready to think about that, despite how much his mounting anxiety might want him to. He needs to trust Souji, have faith that Souji will be alright, that he can handle himself like he does in the TV if anything happens. But Souji is human, just like the rest of them, and no amount of power, no army of personae will help outside in the real world. Car accidents can happen, kidnappings can happen – do happen, were happening – and all of it possible without a warning or chance to fight back.

He’s already hit the call button by the time he breaks that chain of thought.

The line rings and rings and rings, the sound like a failing heartbeat in Yosuke’s ear. There is a click, a pause, a familiar robotic voice telling him he’s reached the voicemail box of “Seta Souij” and to leave a message after the tone.

Yosuke’s stomach drops. He didn’t think it could get any lower.

“Partner, hey,” he says into the phone, not even bothering to keep the waver from his voice. He’d done so well the first couple of times; he’s stretched too thinly to do it now. “It’s me. Again….” Something wet trickles down his cheek; he makes no move to wipe it away. This is dumb, he’s being dumb, but he doesn’t know what to do right now. Souji has always been the stronger one, the Leader, the rock that holds everything in place when shit keeps going wrong. For all Yosuke tries to match him stride for stride, he knows, in the dark, dusty place where he keeps the rest of his insecurities, that he’s too different from Souji to ever be like him.

He can’t find Souji, can’t get hold of him, can’t help him, and it’s a blow that Yosuke isn’t sure he can recover from any time soon. Souji would know what to do but that’s the problem: Souji isn’t here. Yosuke is left to try and navigate this foreign situation all on his own. He’s used to being second-in-command, even if he’s never really needed to play the “command” role; taking over as default leader while Souji is missing isn’t something Yosuke was ready to do. Even if there’s no longer an investigation to head, even if his partner’s disappearance wasn’t a kidnapping (he hopes), if Souji doesn’t show up soon it will fall on Yosuke’s shoulders to lead the team to find him. Especially if it turns out Souji is nowhere to be found outside the TV.

He chides himself for being so utterly unprepared.

Yosuke licks at his lower lip, sucking it between his teeth to chew at for a second as he thinks of something else to say that he hasn’t already said before. “Listen… it’s been hours. Where are you?” He pauses, sucks in a watery breath. “I’m really freaked right now, okay? I swear to god, if you just forgot to turn your phone on or something…” His voice catches as a tide of something hot and suffocating washes over him, up his chest, his throat, into the back of his mouth where it chokes him and traps his words behind his teeth He pauses again to swallow it down. “Souji, please. Please call me back, let me know you’re okay. You’re my best fucking friend, let me help—“

“Your message could not be recorded because this mailbox is now full. Please try your call again later.”

With a desperate, angry growl, Yosuke yanks his phone away from his ear and throws it viciously down against the mattress. It bounces off the comforter, falling and landing with a muted ‘thunk’ somewhere out of sight in the dark below the bed. He doesn’t go looking for it; he just lets it lay wherever it’s fallen and turns to bury his face in his pillow, fighting back the molten surge of tears until Teddie’s voice shouts up at him that it’s time for dinner.

He barely says a thing the rest of the night.

---

Yosuke sleeps poorly, waking with a knotted stomach and a tight feeling gripping at the inside of his skull.

The house is quiet, eerily so, and in his blearily state it takes Yosuke a few groggy minutes to piece together the reason why. Teddie is still asleep; Yosuke can hear the bear’s thin, wheezy snoring from inside his closet, which is strange because usually Teddie is a bundle of energy from the moment Yosuke’s alarm goes off. Half the time, Teddie acts as his second alarm after Yosuke tries hitting the snooze for the third time in a row, jumping onto Yosuke’s bed and tackling him in a “good morning hug.” Today, though, it seems that Yosuke has woken up well before his alarm is set to wake him. He doesn’t really know how that’s possible, considering he hadn’t managed to fall asleep until well after midnight, but somehow he’s awake before the rest of the household (provided his parents haven’t already gone in to work), and he doesn’t think he could get back to sleep even if he tried.

There are no new messages on his phone. Yosuke already hates today.

Still half in a daze, he turns off his alarm and makes his way quietly around the room to gather up the pieces of his uniform. He changes in the bathroom where he can see and the light won’t reach the slumbering bear back in his room. Were it another day he would wake Teddie up or just leave the alarm set for him, but Yosuke is painfully aware that Teddie has the after-school shift with him tonight and doesn’t even need to be awake until later in the afternoon.

He wanders downstairs and halfheartedly makes the quickest, most basic breakfast he can possibly make – which honestly isn’t any different than any other breakfast he makes for himself. There’s a little bit of the leftovers from last night’s dinner still tucked away in the fridge, but he leaves it be. Yosuke may know next to nothing about cooking but Teddie knows even less, and while he’d never admit it aloud, Yosuke is not so annoyed with Teddie’s existence that he wants the poor guy to go hungry. He also knows that Teddie gets lonely without him around and likely won’t be happy that Yosuke didn’t wake him up to say goodbye before leaving. He’s already prepared for the pouty earful the bear will have in store for him at work, but for the moment, Yosuke is willing to settle for an egg and toast for himself in order to leave his pseudo-brother with an edible peace offering. Maybe he’ll give Ted a call at lunch to make him feel better. (If only to save himself from being clung to by a living carnival prize later on.)

He sits at the counter and stares at his phone while he eats without tasting. No new messages. He dumps the uneaten half of his toast into the trash.

Time passes at a crawl, and while Yosuke is too frazzled to try and nap on the couch until he needs to leave, he also can’t seem to wake up any further. The exhaustion from yesterday still sticks to him, weighs him down like a thick blanket of dread. The feeling of uselessness, of not knowing what to do with himself or how to help still sits deep within his bones. The longer he stays idle, the more anxious his mind grows, despite the way his eyes itch like he hasn’t slept in a month. The runny egg and half slice of burnt bread sit weirdly in his stomach.

He’s debating on whether he wants to just leave a little early and possibly stake out Souji’s house – because hey, might as well – when his phone finally, finally buzzes. Yosuke nearly drops it in his haste to get it out of his pocket, catching his fingernail on the seam of his jeans and bending it far enough to make it sting. All the while the phone continues to buzz, vibrating every couple of seconds as each new notification comes through. It takes him a minute, but he manages to extract the device from his pocket, ignoring the way his finger is throbbing.

He doesn’t even bother checking the notifications flashing up at him from the screen, he just goes straight to his messages and desperately hopes that at least one of them is from Souji.

None of them are.

Instead, there are a handful of texts from Naoto, all sent to the entire Investigation Team like the big-ass group chat they never got around to making.

Detc Prince: JUST SPOKE 2 SOUJI-SENPAI

Dect Prince: HE IS SAFE AT HOME & HAS BEEN THERE SINCE LAST NIGHT

Detc Prince: EVIDENTLY HE PASSED OUT & SLEPT 12 HOURS. JUST NOW WOKE UP.

Detc Prince: HE SAYS HE IS SORRY 4 SCARING US. HE ALSO WONT B AT SCHOOL 2DAY

Detc Prince: VIOLENTLY ILL YESTERDAY BUT BETTER NOW. LEFT AFTER GETTING SICK

Yosuke stares down at his phone in confusion.

No, that’s… wrong.

He stands dumbly in the kitchen, in the quiet, morning-dark house, with his phone in his hands and a furrowed brow and tries to piece together this story with his own from the day before. He’s foggy-headed still, sleepy and jacked all at the same time, but even if he were wide-awake he knows that something would be off.

Souji had been running down the hall like he was terrified. He’d blown past Yosuke and Kanji with the speed of someone deeply afraid (which Yosuke recognizes from their first few adventures into the TV world, back when everything was still new to them all), not of someone about to throw up. His partner had rocketed away from him almost too quickly to catch his expression, but Yosuke knows how to look at Souji, knows how to check for tells, how to read his commander, his best friend, and pick up on Souji’s signals. It’s how they fight side-by-side in the dungeons, when Yosuke has his headphones blaring and their soft-spoken leader needs to guide them all through battle. Yosuke knows Souji – and those weren’t the eyes of “let me by, I have to hurl.”

Souji’s eyes had been wide and frightened, laced with sorrow and the same kind of desperate mania that so many of their friends had worn as they faced down their shadows.

Yosuke feels the breakfast in his stomach turn over on itself. He doesn’t like this. Yosuke had watched Souji disappear through the door to the stairs, not towards the bathroom like anyone feeling nauseas would do, so unless Souji had been heading for another floor to go throw up then he would have had to have gotten sick before even coming back to the classroom. Which would mean his sprint down the hall was something else entirely. Not only that, but Yosuke knows for a fact that Souji passed Naoto on the stairs, which meant he’d been heading downward and well away from any of the closest or even second closest toilets. If he’d left right after he’d thrown up, then Souji should have either not been running like Chie had offered to make lunch and instead been dragging himself out the door, or he should have been running to a bathroom and then leaving.

Nothing in the time frame adds up, and the resulting implications leave Yosuke floundering. His head goes around and around in circles, wanting to believe Naoto’s texts that Souji is okay, that he just got really, really sick and had to go home. But Yosuke has spent literal months now learning to think critically, to look at inconsistencies and pick them apart, and while he’s no Naoto when it comes to mysteries he would like to think he could spot when something is clearly not right when it comes to his best friend.

He’s aware that Naoto could have just given them the absolute minimum information and that there is a longer explanation waiting for them all when they get to school. However, Naoto had been just as visibly rattled as Yosuke had felt when he’d found them in the stairwell, which is hard for Yosuke to explain away with his current lack of insight. The fact that they’d had no clue where Souji had gone, and had even helped Yosuke look for him leaves another gap in their short span of time where everything could have happened.

He doesn’t want to think that Naoto is lying. He absolutely doesn’t want to think that Souji is.

But there’s nothing Yosuke can do without more information, and he isn’t going to get that just standing around. Gritting his teeth, he stamps down on the rising tide of dark thoughts and nebulous feelings. He doesn’t want to face any of it, doesn’t want to think about what some of his theories might imply. He also doesn’t want to look too deeply at his own reactions to this, because it means he’s either wildly overacting or that something is genuinely amiss. A lapse back into his old clingy, annoying, friendless self, or his best friend potentially being hurt or hiding something. Neither option is comforting.

The clock above the counter tells him he needs to leave now to get to school without a rush. He stuffs the phone back into his pocket and grabs his bag and forcibly tries to keep his mind from reaching further and further into the place where his anxiety dwells. His thoughts are carefully blank as he shuffles his way over to the door and opens it on the dull light of the morning sky. He blinks against the brightness, standing still in the entryway for a moment until he can make his vision settle and his nervous pulse subside.

Outside his house is like a different world; the broken dawn is pink and burnt gold and it casts everything in its wake in a weirdly yellow glow. There are birds somewhere in the distance, chirping sporadically like they, too, have no idea how to be awake at this hour. It’s a stark contract to the quiet, sleepy dark back inside Yosuke’s kitchen.

As he finally works up the will to start his trek, Yosuke takes a second to glance at his reflection in the mirror his mother had insisted on hanging in the entryway when they’d moved in, to “make sure everyone looks their best before facing the day”. What stares back at him is a pale, jittery-looking version of himself, with deep blue circles beneath his eyes and hair that clearly hasn’t seen a comb in far too long. He grimaces at how wan he looks, at the exhaustion etched into his skin along with the worry lines now marring his forehead.

He leaves the house quickly, not wanting to look at himself anymore or give his brain a long enough pause to start thinking again. As he closes the door behind him he tells himself that the shiver he got from his reflection’s sightless stare is just the lack of sleep, and that it was only the light from the sun along the horizon that tinted the world and made his eyes look a sickly shade of gold.

Naoto does not, in fact, give them any new information once everyone is gathered at school. Yosuke talks to Yukiko and Chie for a minute or so before classes start to see if they know or have heard anything he might have missed. They don’t, and after Chie tells him he looks like shit (to which he only gives a half-hearted retort because honestly, she’s right) they confirm that they didn’t get a chance to catch Naoto in person that morning, either.

The school day begins and Yosuke barely pays attention. He keeps glancing forlornly at Souji’s empty desk, sneaking peeks at his phone under his own. There are a few extra texts from the others in the group text, mostly reactionary exclamations, a flurry of sad emojis from Rise to go with her “Oh no! Poor Senpai!” but no one seems inclined to press Naoto for more details. He gets it to some degree; no one else but Kanji saw Souji’s escape down the hallway and only Naoto passed him on the stairs, so the only other person that might ask besides Yosuke would be Kanji, and Kanji didn’t seem to notice what Yosuke did. So no one asks.

Yosuke sends a mass text of his own, asking for everyone to meet up during lunch. He words it as well as he can, trying to hide behind the reasoning that they had all been worried about Souji and playing off the fact that Souji apparently hasn’t contacted anyone else so could Naoto fill them in on what all Souji said to them, please? Everyone agrees, though some take longer to respond than others due to classes and Naoto takes their time replying until they’re the last one to do so. Yosuke tries not to make anything of it.

He can’t tell if he succeeds.

Teddie messages him around late morning, sending Yosuke a string of whiny texts and a few teary emojis, just as Yosuke had predicted he would. Yosuke responds with a short “srry ted I was letting u sleep” and “leftovers r urs”, which earns him a few more pout emojis before Teddie evidently forgives him. It’s a minor distraction, but one that Yosuke is grateful for nonetheless. His interaction with Teddie feel normal, routine, like Yosuke’s entire world hasn’t been a total mess for the past 24 hours. He makes a mental note to buy the bear a box of his favorite topsicles – both as a way to cheer him up after waking to an empty house and also as a thank you so that Yosuke doesn’t have to do it out loud and get stuck explaining his mental state.

When lunch finally hits, Yosuke and Chie and Yukiko all head off to the roof together to meet up with the rest of the team – minus their leader and living plush-doll of a mascot. Naoto is already there by the time the rest of them arrive. They look tired; there is a thinness to their mouth, a glassiness to their eyes that speaks of a night spent just as sleepless as Yosuke. He remembers how scared they’d looked the day before after Souji had disappeared, the deep, quiet fear that had lit them from within and made Yosuke think of an animal cornered at night, eyeshine bright and unnerving.

Nothing about any of this makes sense.

Naoto greets them; they all settle in. It takes up a good chunk of the lunch period for Naoto to basically rehash everything they’d said via text: that Souji had suddenly gotten violently ill in between the pageants, that they suspected it might be either food poisoning or “an acute bout of nerves”, that Souji had run off to go get sick and then gone straight home. That Souji had passed out and slept until that morning right before school and had called Naoto back after they’d messaged him again. That Souji was feeling better but not 100% still.

And the whole time they’re telling the story, Yosuke bites at his lips and feels his frown growing deeper and deeper.

He still doesn’t like the way the timeline of events just doesn’t seem to match up in a way that doesn’t have holes, no matter how he tries to fit the pieces together. The larger picture is fine, sure, but it’s the little things, the snags in time, the long stretch of silence and sudden explanation. There are just too many of them and Yosuke collects them in his head one after another and moves them around trying to find a way to match them up. His head is starting to hurt by the time Naoto finishes.

Everyone goes around and offers their sentiments as if Souji is there to hear them. They talk about going over to check on him after school but Naoto seems to think it won’t be necessary.

“Souji-senpai is most likely resting,” Naoto says. “Too many people all at once without warning could be detrimental.” They awkwardly shift their weight, tugging on their cap the way they do when they want to hide their face but also don’t want to be perceived as weak for showing their nervousness. Yosuke notes how they don’t look directly at anyone when they continue speaking.

“However, seeing as Senpai is – or was – awake and aware this morning of our attempts to contact him, I would say we should message him if we do plan on visiting. I’m certain he would appreciate the heads up, especially if he still isn’t feeling well.”

Everybody voices their agreement (and in the case of Rise, their obviously crush-tinted disappointment,) and even Yosuke has to admit that Naoto makes a good point. It still sits oddly in his chest, though. He curses his work schedule; he would absolutely be visiting Souji at home after school if he didn’t have to go in for a long night of stocking shelves. No matter how good a point Naoto may have made, Souji is missing a day of classes and no one could begrudge Souji’s best friend for taking him some notes, right?

Yosuke sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose when no one is looking.

After that is a whole lot of nothing. There is eating, some more discussion, (mostly about Souji but still nothing relevant to Yosuke’s mess of questions) and a bunch of texts all sent out to wish Souji a speedy recovery. None of them receives a reply, but it’s also entirely possible that Souji is doing exactly as Naoto said and resting. Yosuke hopes so.

Sadly, and to his understandable irritation, he doesn’t get a chance to ask Naoto any of the more in-depth questions he’d wanted to ask before the end of lunch sneaks up on them. The group begins to split up then, with Naoto somehow being the first one through the door back inside, robbing Yosuke of what is probably his final chance of the day.

Truth be told, Yosuke knows it’s partially his own fault. Rather than just squaring up and asking what he wanted to, he’d been stalling, waiting for a turn in the conversation to give him the answers he’d wanted without actually asking. He admits it to himself – albeit begrudgingly – because he’s seen first hand what happens when he doesn’t, and acknowledges that he’s afraid. Afraid of being proven wrong and thus having overreacted like the clingy idiot he knows he’s capable of being. Or worse, being proven right and having to deal with the knowledge that either his teammate or his leader or both are keeping him in the dark. It would be a chain reaction at that point, one fear being affirmed leading to another one – one that Yosuke only lets himself think about when he absolutely has to, at his lowest and wide awake at 2:00am with his mind way too loud and full, to keep it from spawning another shadow.

Do I matter?

Chie kicks him gently (“gently”) in the butt to get him moving since he’s apparently just been standing there staring after Naoto. He lets her and Yukiko drag him back to the classroom and ignores the silent conversation that seems to pass between the two of them behind his back. He also ignores the strange way that Rise follows him with her eyes, a funny, down-turned expression settling on her features that he’s never seen before.

The day continues, the teachers drone, and Yosuke sits staring inconspicuously as possible down at his phone screen. A response to his previous slew of worried texts never comes, and no matter how he tries, Yosuke feels too many things too deeply and at once to be able to send any new ones just yet. He types and deletes what has to be a dozen aborted questions, shallow-seeming “get well soon”s, and by the time the day is over he’s still stuck at square one, eyes strained from staring at the glare of his screen for so long.

He trudges down to the shoe lockers, head still hurting, when the final bell sounds and resigns himself to waiting until after his shift to think of something to say to his partner that doesn’t sound stupid or needy or paranoid.

In the end his anxiety silences him completely, stilling his fingers and leaving the “how ru feelin prtnr? u comin 2 school 2mrrw?” hovering in the text bar on his screen unsent.

---

“Yosuke…”

Warm hands, fingers ghosting over skin, over planes of muscle, dipping into the line where waist meets hips. Breath catching, stuttering in a flat, toned chest, a hot exhale against his cheek as blunted nails dig into his shoulders, holding him in place. The taste of salt, of skin beneath his tongue, fresh like rain and sharp like ozone. A pulse like distant thunder under his mouth. He presses forward, closer, tighter, shifts his knee to press it between shaking legs, holds them steady with his hands and feels the flex of thighs under his palms.

Hips grind against him. Lips catch at his, kissing, parting, giving him room to slide his tongue inside. He pulls back and nips at them, drawing the bottom one, plush and sweet, between his teeth before pressing back in and licking them apart.

Hands glide lower, inward, touching, teasing, tugging at fabric and pulling it open, down, fingertips running hot across a band of elastic before slipping inside. A trail of kisses across a sharp jaw. Teeth grazing skin, sucking, biting, leaving little marks of purple in their wake. A gasp, a groan, a throaty sound of need and pleasure as he laves his tongue back over the pulse point, sending vibrations through another chest and into his own. Heat beneath his fingers, a tightness deep below his hips.

"Yosuke please…”

He pushes his knee in further, scratches his nails along soft thighs, taut like velvet over steel. Hips roll to meet his hand; his palm meets warm flesh, brushes over it, presses the heel of his hand down to elicit another halted breath, another ragged whisper of his name. A body clinging to his own, hot and slick and trembling, fingers fisting in his hair, skin on skin on skin on skin, moving to a rhythm he sets, slow and wicked. He bites a collarbone and the arms around him tighten, the long line of a pale throat exposed as lips fall open in a moan and a head tilts back, hands pulling him closer, clutching, panting, shaking.

“Partner!”

Yosuke sits bolt upright in bed, heart pounding against the inside of his ribs like it’s trying to break free.

For a moment he doesn’t know where he is; his bedroom is dark and unfamiliar in its witching-hour silence with only the quiet snoring from his closet to break it. The faint glow of his phone charging beside the bed becomes his grounding point and he stares at it until his mind clears enough to refocus on his surroundings. Alone. He’s alone, there’s no one in his bed but him. He’s in his room and he’s alone in his bed – no hips beneath his hands, no skin against his lips. No breathy voice in his ear whispering how good his touch feels, murmuring his name, spurring him on.

Oh god.

Yosuke shivers at the memory, at the phantom image of someone warm and solid arcing against him. Something aches low in his gut and he realizes with a burning face just how painfully hard he is. He feels it throbbing between his legs like a bruise and bites his lip to stamp down a desperate whine.

Alone, I’m alone, it was just a dream, I’m alone…

But Yosuke can still feel he pressure of another body against his own. He can still feel everything: the fingers in his hair, the legs around his hips, the stretch of an elastic waistband across the back of his wrist as if he’s delved his hand below someone’s boxers. He feels all of it. He can still taste another tongue when he swipes his across his lips, still tingling like he’s just been kissed, is still leaving hickies on his best friend’s throat—

Yosuke slaps a hand over his mouth to mask the heavy, raspy sound of his own too-thin breathing. It burns in his lungs, breaths too deep but air too dry and it feels like he isn’t getting any oxygen at all. Sweat beads along his hairline, at the nape of his neck, and when he parts his lips to try and breathe through his mouth he can taste the telltale salt of it across his clammy palm.

Souji. He’d just had a sex dream about Souji.

His best friend, his partner, their goddamn leader. Yosuke feels the rush of adrenaline as it washes through him in a wave, leaving his limbs cold and trembling like he’s just been dunked in ice water. The slow creep of panic itches at his nerves. He doesn’t know what to do; what is he supposed to do? How in the ever-loving fuck is he meant to process the fact that he’s just had the single most intense sex dream of his entire life and it was about another guy?

And not just any guy – he’s just had a sex dream about his best. Fucking. Friend.

There is a twitch and throb between his thighs and Yosuke thinks he might actually start crying.

He swallows, weak and useless against the dryness in his throat, and bites at his tongue until he tastes the coppery tang of his own blood. He’s dizzy. Dizzy and confused and scared to death and back, but…

But.

But he can’t ignore how hard he is. He can’t ignore that everything in his dream was amazing, that it left him aching and needy and wishing he could slow his speeding heart and go back to sleep, just so he could return to the feeling of dream-Souji pulling him closer as he came over Yosuke’s hand.

“…Fuck.”

The sound of his own voice – while barely a whisper – still startles Yosuke in the near-perfect quiet of the room. It’s high and desperate, absolutely wrecked like it hasn’t been since he faced his shadow. Expect this time it isn’t fear lacing the single word that’s slipped from his mouth. It’s desire.

Without really thinking, Yosuke throws off the covers as quietly as he can and disentangles himself from the bed. He stares at the closet door like a feral, frightened cat, watching for any sign that Teddie has heard him. When nothing happens, Yosuke moves.

He creeps over to the door, pausing only to grab a pair of underwear from the floor as he goes. He doesn’t even know if they’re clean, doesn’t even care; right now he just needs something to take with him that isn’t what he’s wearing right now. He can feel the sweat sinking in to his shirt, the waist of his sleep pants – which is bad enough – but worst of all is how he can feel the sticky-slick patch of precum starting to seep into his boxers.

On shaky legs, Yosuke makes his way out the door and down the hall towards the bathroom. He goes as silently as he can, taking care to avoid the spots in the floor that he knows are prone to creaking, reaching out to steady himself against the wall whenever his knees start to buckle. It’s slow going. His erection makes it hard to walk without hissing through his teeth, and with every passing second he can hear the way his heart hammers inside his chest – so loud he thinks that Teddie must have been deaf not to hear it.

He reaches the bathroom after what feels like eons, thankful it’s been left open so the tiny nightlight in the hall can lead sleep-foggy people to it in the middle of the night. (Or in this case, a jittery teenager.) He slides inside like he’s afraid someone will be waiting for him just past where the light reaches and shuts the door behind him with a muffled click, locking it the moment that it’s closed.

He passes by the mirror on his way to the shower and pointedly does not look.

Cranking the cold water up as high as it will go, not even touching the hot, Yosuke stares at the frigid cascade like it can possibly save him. Sometimes, when his dreams turn dirty with short skirts and breathy panting straight from the porn he keeps hidden in a special folder on his computer, Yosuke is able to will the resulting arousal away. He’s lucky – he hasn’t woken up to an unexpected mess in his boxers since before his family moved. He still gets hard in his sleep though, sometimes; usually he’s able to just think of the shadows in the TV world and roll over onto his stomach to flush the images from his mind. He wakes slightly irritable, but at least he’s able to sleep.

Tonight though, he knows there’s no hope. With all the slowness of a man facing his execution, Yosuke peels off the sweat-covered t-shirt and sweatpants, tossing them into the corner to retrieve later. He sets the second pair of underwear over to the side and gingerly begins the process of slipping off the ones he’s wearing.

It’s a nightmare. Each drag of fabric over his electrified skin is like torture, leaving him off-kilter and gritting his teeth against the over stimulation. He nearly falls over as he tries to maneuver them past his dick, which is still so abysmally hard that it’s a miracle he made it from his bedroom without passing out due to poor circulation. He stifles a pained noise as the chilly air outside his boxers hits his overheated flesh, clamping his lips together and biting down until it hurts. The cold water is going to suck.

He steps into the shower and immediately hates everything.

Fighting back another sound of dismay, Yosuke lets the icy stream pour over him, jolting him to full wakefulness and sending an instant, violent shiver through his entire body. He stands there with his arms crossed futilely over his chest, instinctively trying to hold in what little body heat he can, even as he wills the water to just freeze his burning blood and make it so he can go back to bed before his alarm goes off for school.

This sucks. Everything sucks. He’s awake at stupid-o-clock in the morning with a boner that won’t go away and the sound of his best friend’s moaning playing over and over again in his ears like a looping, skipping record. He hates the way it makes his stomach swoop like he’s flying, makes his skin prickle like he swell of lightning before it strikes; it scares him, he shouldn’t be feeling this. Instead of desperate and turned on, secretly wishing the dream had been longer, he should be sick, put off, angry. He should be disgusted about the way the dream has made his heart race and his fingers itch to touch, to feel, the way he keeps licking at his lower lip as if hoping the taste of Souji’s kiss still lingers in the waking world. But he’s not. The only disgust he feels is at himself and the way he cannot lie away the fact that he liked it. He’s more afraid of how wrong it didn’t feel than by how right it did.

Yosuke shakes his head and fists a hand through his wet hair, trying to pull the feel of Souji from his memory.

Minutes pass and his arousal doesn’t flag. The cold digs into his skin like needles, numbing everything it touches and leaving him shuddering in the absence of warmth. The contrast of the chill against the heat of his body is almost painful – like a gust of winter wind over a feverish throat – and even the numbness the water brings isn’t enough to completely drown out the feeling. Yet still his erection persists.

With a groan of defeat, Yosuke reaches over and twists the knob for the hot water, turning the cold down a little as he does, and then wisely steps back out of the spray. He waits, shivering, holding his hand under the showerhead until his body can tolerate the change in temperature without feeling like he’s being scalded, although at this point he’s almost desperate enough to consider it. Maybe if he turns it up to boiling he can strip the image of dream-Souji pinned beneath him from his mind.

He steps back under the water, wincing slightly at the feel of heat on his frozen skin. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck, goddamnit! He leans forward and rests his head against the wall just under the showerhead, feeling the rush of water trickle across his shoulders as he lets the frustrated burn behind his eyes crest and fade. He can’t do this. He can’t. Vision blurring in the droplets running down his face, Yosuke reaches a shaking hand down and curling his still-numb fingers around himself. He hisses at the contact, knees almost giving out at the rush of feeling just that simple action elicits.

FUCK.

Giving in, Yosuke takes a second to reach for the bottle of conditioner just off to the side and takes two pumps into his hand. He slides his fingers through it, smearing it across his palm as best he’s able, before wrapping his hand back around himself. He takes a deep breath and starts to stroke.

He forgoes all preamble, any technique he would normally employ, any trick he’d use to draw it out, he tosses them all to the back of his mind. It’s not even about pleasure right now; it’s about relief. He’s so agonizingly turned on that he just wants this over, just wants it to go away so he can go back to sleep and pretend this never happened. He doesn’t think about how he’s going to act around his partner whenever Souji shows back up at school – he tries not to think at all.

He brings his other arm up to brace him against the tiled shower wall above his head, spreading his legs a little to widen his stance and keep from falling. He closes his eyes against the stark white of the tile, too bright in the overhead lighting and too close to his face. He tightens his grip.

It works to take the edge off – the slow slide of his fist over his length, helped by the conditioner – but it’s not enough. He quickens his pace, rubs the pad of his thumb under the head. It helps, but it’s not enough.

Gritting his teeth, Yosuke delves deep into his memory and tries to conjure up images from some of his favorite porno: Busty women with tiny waists and long legs, panting as they rode dick like it was their favorite thing in the world. He tries to picture what they sound like when they moan, tries to remember which girls he finds the hottest, which set of breasts got him off the fastest the last time he watched.

Something feels sour in the back of his mouth.

He switches tactics, thinks of some of the girls from school that he’d fantasized about in the past. Faceless figures in their cute uniform skirts, summer outfits with no tights or jackets to obscure their flawless skin. He’d picked out his favorite attributes long ago, even with the girls he’s never met, never spoken to – he keeps a mental list of whose asses he likes the best, which ones he thought would look cutest on their backs with their thighs wrapped around him. It doesn’t work.

With a choked whine through clenched teeth, Yosuke twists his wrist at the end of his stroke, pleading with anyone listening that it makes him feel something. The motion is there, the pressure, the heat of his palm, but it just not what he needs. Something isn’t right, isn’t letting him reach any closer.

Desperate and impulsive, he goes to the one surefire thing that’s always worked for him before, no matter how pent up or over stimulated he’d been: he pictures Risette in her latest swimsuit photos.

Guilt immediately burns though his veins and rises to the back of his throat like acid. He shoves off the wall, letting go of his dick and nearly stumbling backwards, gasping in shock at the way his mind recoils. That’s Rise! his own brain shrieks at him. That’s your teammate, how could you?!

Yosuke leans back against the far wall of the shower and runs his cleaner hand across his face. He lets it rest there, over his eyes, as he sucks in breath after deep, horrified breath and waits for the roll of bile and sickening shame to subside. He stays there for countless minutes, gnawing at his lip while he breathes, until the utter mortification of what he’d just tried to do finally begins to ebb and leave him be. All the while his dick still aches with unspent arousal, tension tight and ruthless along his shoulders and hips.

“Fuck.”

Slowly Yosuke pulls his hand away from his face and lets it fall to the side. He stares upward with dull eyes, barely focusing on anything but the hazy texture of the ceiling above him. “Fuck…”

He’s screwed. He doesn’t know what else to do; he’s done the cold shower method, switched to hot to shock his system, tried to let his body wait it out, all to no avail. Thinking about porn doesn’t work, thinking about girls doesn’t work, hell, even thinking about nothing still leaves him hard and unsatisfied. Speed doesn’t seem to make a difference, nor does pressure or movement. The stimulation is good in the way that any kind of touch against his erection is, but it’s hollow. There’s nothing – he feels nothing and it’s killing him.

Yosuke weighs his options. He can give up now and go back to bed, hope that maybe if he lays there long enough he’ll be able to go to sleep and his hard on will be gone in the morning. He grimaces; no, what will probably end up happening is he’ll either be wide awake and rock solid for the rest of the night, leaving him to be uncomfortable in an entirely different way when the alarm goes off and Teddie wakes up, (and his parents if they happen to be home,) or he’ll sleep, but he’ll dream.

His dick twitches at that, sending a trickle of fire through his groin, his thighs, his abdomen. It knocks what’s left of his exhalation from his lips.

Would it… really be so bad?

He thinks about the way dream-Souji’s body had fit so perfectly against his own – the scrape of fingernails down his back, a tongue across the seam of his lips. He thinks about the image of messy silver hair, damp with sweat and sticking up in places where Yosuke’s fingers had curled and tugged; he pictures glazed, rain-puddle eyes, half-lidded and looking at him as if Yosuke is the only thing his partner could ever need again.

There’s another twitch, a pulse, and slowly his hand begins to slide between his thighs.

He’s familiar enough his own body by now that he knows there’s a chance the dream will come back and that he’ll just have the same problem all over again, if it ever actually even goes away to begin with. Any relief he might get from finally passing out will likely be short-lived at best. Again, that’s if he manages to fall asleep at all.

No matter what he does, the feel of Souji’s heartbeat under his lips is going to be etched into Yosuke’s mind for hours. Would it be horrible if he just…?

His hand wraps back around his length and tentatively, tentatively begins to stroke. It feels incredible.

Yosuke lets out a long, shuddering exhale as every nerve ending that’s been lying dormant since he fist climbed into the shower jolts to life as if electrified. He slides his hand up again and tightens his fingers, strokes all the way down and glides his palm over the head. It’s like the first time he’d ever summoned Jirya – a buzzing, tingling sensation that had started somewhere at the base of his skull and spread to every limb in his body, leaving him warm and giddy with his newfound rush of power. Now, though, instead of the surge of a hurricane releasing from his mind he feels the low, simmering heat pooling in his gut and trickling outward, further and further with every pass of his hand. He closes his eyes and leans his head back against the wall behind him, finally letting the pictures on the backs of his eyelids out into view.

Souji underneath him, pressed into the mattress with Yosuke’s knee between his thighs, breath hitching as he watches Yosuke with eyes like frosted rain. Souji’s lips – capable of summoning lightning and calling out commands in the midst of battle – parting in a gasp that sinks into a moan. Souji’s stormy eyes sliding shut. Souji panting, begging, whispering Yosuke’s name with the same kind of reverence Yosuke has used before in awe of Souji’s power. Yosuke’s fingers in Souji’s mouth, his hand in Souji’s pants; tongue and teeth and a trail of bites and kisses against Souji’s rabbiting pulse.

Souji’s hips bucking up against him, a whimper, a keen – what would he sound like? Would he be quiet like he is in real life? Or would he scream and tremble as Yosuke took him apart? High-pitched and breathy? Or a growl, low and dark and gravelly; a single sign of his god-like patience finally snapping before he dug his nails into Yosuke’s shoulders and flipped them over to ride him instead?

Yosuke’s body jerks. Heat and lighting crackle through his skin, setting his nerves on fire, causing him to gasp in shock at just how much it is. Somewhere in the back of is mind he thinks he hears Jirya purr.

He licks at his lips, bites them to hold back the quiet whimper he can feel building in his throat. He squeezes his eyes shut tighter and replays the image against the stars now flickering in and out of his sight.

Souji in his lap. Yosuke’s grip on his hips, his thighs, guiding him up and down as Souji grinds against him; sweat-slick, hot. His lips, his teeth, his tongue on Souji’s neck, gentle kisses pressed to darkening bites, claiming, marking. Souji’s hands grasping, scrabbling, leaving claw marks on Yosuke’s shoulders. Souji has such graceful hands; Yosuke wants to pin them above his head, to find out what kinds of sounds Souji makes; wants to drive him to the point of desperation so that he begs and pleads for Yosuke to let him come. He wants to run his fingers across the expanse of Souji’s body, feel Souji’s hipbones under his hands, lave his tongue and sink his teeth into the soft, strong flesh of Souji’s thighs.

Souji in his bed, in his arms. Souji crying out as Yosuke rolls his hips and drives himself deeper. Souji, Souji, Souji…

“Souji…”

The name falls from Yosuke’s lips and he feels the stings coiled deep inside him start to pull, taut and sharp. The sound of it spears through him; it settles in his fingertips, in the balls of his feet, wraps around the base of his spine and stretches upwards like ivy and Yosuke barely has time to slap his free hand over his mouth before his whole body lights up brighter than an aurora. He clamps his teeth down on his middle finger, so hard he can feel the press of bone between his teeth.

And then Yosuke is coming. Hard and intense and without any warning – with his partner’s name on his tongue like a prayer.

Sound is the first thing that returns to him; the quiet spray of water, his own ragged breathing. Slowly he opens his eyes, blinking against the sharpness of the light and the glossy tile it’s reflecting off of. Blank eyed, he stares at the rivulets of water running down the wall beside him. His lungs take in a deep, long breath and he centers on the way his chest expands.

By the time he’s fully back in his own body, back in his soundless house in a tiny little town in the middle of the night, the shower water has started to grow cold again. He watches as it circles the drain, spiraling, mixing with the remnants of what he’s just done and washing it away out of sight. He leans his full weight back against the wall and carefully sinks to the floor.

What did he just do?

Oh god, what did he just do?

Yosuke brings his legs up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them and burying his face into his knees. He digs his forehead, his nose, his mouth into his skin as hard as he can, as if he can somehow smother the knowledge of his actions if he just presses hard enough.

What the fuck am I supposed to do now?

He stays under the ever-colder spray of water as his mind begins to devour itself, sitting hunched and shaking until all traces of heat are completely gone.

#fanfic #fanfiction #persona 4 #p4 #souji seta #yu narukami #souyo #yosuke hanamura #investigation team #transgender #trans souji seta #trans!au #scars on my sleeve #caught in the grey #tw homophobia #LIME #BEWARE OF MILD ADULT THEMES

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