One of the many things Akira noticed about Sakamato Ryuji was just how quietly he loved.
He didn’t mean specifically in a romantic sense. Friends, family, strangers- the way Ryuji showed his care and affection was almost silent.
It had first made itself apparent when Akira learned that Ryuji’s bright, yellow blonde wasn’t his natural tone- it was in fact, a bleach job he kept up on. He had noticed that Ryuji’s roots were growing in- a dark brown color that stood out starkly- and made an idle comment on it, drawing a fidgeting Ryuji’s hand to his thick, unruly hair.
“Oh, yeah. Been savin’ up to get some more bleach ‘n toner ‘n shit soon- ain’t let it grow out this long in a while.”
“You bleach it?”
“Yeah, started doin it round secondary and just- never stopped, I guess.”
He had later found out that he had done it so that Ann wouldn’t be alone as the only blonde, and even though they had fallen out over the years, he had still kept up with it. And considering the price of that kind of bleach job, the fact that he was always reminded to dye it back- it wasn’t an easy endeavor to keep up with.
And yet, he did so without even a thought of stopping.
It really had caught Akira’s eye when Yusuke had joined their little group.
For the first time, Akira got to witness Ryuji get along with someone from the beginning- and it wasn’t exactly easy. Ryuji, for all his sunny grins, had more than a few walls up when it came to new people. He got to see a gruffer, more agitated Ryuji- and also got to witness him slowly lower that outward mask to let their teammate in.
When Akira caught Ryuji suddenly always having a pencil on hand, he had known Yusuke had his seal of approval.
This type of pattern just kept repeating itself, mostly. With Makoto it was… a little more difficult- but that was because they had a history by ear. Ryuji’s reputation was the stark opposite of Makoto’s so there was bound to be friction- but Ryuji wasted no time in trying to help her anyway.
Even if Akira would forever shiver at the memory of Ryuji throwing himself in front of a moving car.
From there- Futaba, Haru, even Morgana, Sae, Sojiro and Kasumi on the off chance of meeting her- Ryuji would always have a special way that he loved. That he cared.
Something even Ryuji himself hadn’t seemed aware of when Akira first brang it up.
“Eh? Whaddya mean?”
“The pencil in your pocket. It's for Yusuke, isn't it?” Akira prodded, a nonchalant question more than anything. The quiet tenor of his voice carried a much lighter lilt to it now that they had taken down Shido.
“How'd you know I got a pencil- well, dudes always mumblin ‘bout drawin this or that.” Ryuji offhandedly waved, leaning back onto the comforter atop Akira’s mishmash assembly of a bed. “ ‘s easier to shut him up with it."
“Haru never running out of soil or fertilizer?”
“The bags aren’t that heavy- sides, it ain't like I got anythin’ else to do after school, ‘less ‘m hangin’ out with you.”
“Morgana’s treat pocket in your bag?”
“Keeps him from yowlin’ at me.”
“Futaba’s ever growing manga collection?”
“They were just gonna rot in my room.”
“Makoto mentioned that her notes are always nice and neat whenever she gets them back from you.”
“Well, duh, they aint mine. Gotta keep them in nice condition.”
“Your hair?”
“What about it?”
Akira just rolled his eyes. This guy was impossible- so silence fell over the pair in the quiet room overlooking the backstreets. Wood creaked nearby, a quiet snapping noise that neither paid much attention to.
There was more Akira could have gone into to- the dishes when Sojiro was out and Ryuji was hangin around, Akira catching him looking up gymnastics specifics one evening- hell, Ryuji had even begun to look through how to properly play billiards before.. yeah.
For all the shit Ryuji was dragged through, the butt of the joke, the beaten up punch line- he never stopped caring. Akira couldnt help but be proud of his choice in a loyal right hand.
“Uh oh.”
“Hm?"
“Ya got that look on yer face.” Ryuji leaned forward, a smirk rising on his face. “That stupid calculatin look like your takin a shadow apart with your mind.”
“I have no idea what you mean.”
The repressed smirk said it all to Ryuji, the way grey glinted behind faux glasses- Akira had all but two seconds before an arm was slung over his shoulder, gasping as he was tugged down and a hand was playfully ruffling with his hair. Laughter erupted, Ryuji’s demands that he tell him whats going on in his head almost lost to the tussle.
“Cmon, ‘Kira- you cant hide nothin from me!”
“Unfortunately.” Glasses knocked askew, Akira straighted up, going to fix them before they were snatched off his face. “Hey-!”
Ryuji just grinned back, shark teeth and all.
“So, gonna tell me or do I gotta hold these hostage?”
And Akira just rolled his eyes, easily snatching back his glasses and slipping them on his face. He looked back to Ryuji to see brown shining back, amber flecks dancing in the setting sun. Straw gold hair caught the few orange rays that managed to worm their way into the backstreets of Yongen-Jaya, freshly touched up blonde roots barely visible through the thicket of mismatched cut hair.
He felt himself just shake his head, melting easily to his partner in crime who just blinked- looking at Akira in slight confusion.
“Dude, you sure you're good?"
Neither of them were PDA people- maybe thats why it was easy for them to just exist around each other like they did. But for the rare moments- the quiet touch of their lips, the stolen moments they had, hands hesitantly bumping against the others- Akira knew.
For all the ways Ryuji loved, this was the way Akira liked the most.
-
The Quiet Way He Cares - awriternamedart
103 notes
·
View notes