(Untitled)
Ooh~ la la! Never in my wildest (and wettest) dreams did I ever think this kink meme would yield such passionate results! With nearly five thousand comments in the initial post, I figured it was high time we bring the naked party over into a new post to leave the first open for request followup and... other forms of fulfillment
( Read more... )
It was trembling like a leaf.
"... you don't need to explain yourself," he told Yosuke, staring at that hand with a twinge working in his stomach, the beginnings of a truly unpleasant thought being born there. "It's fine."
Yosuke gave him a look of pure gratitude, and slid off the sofa to find his shirt.
Souji watched him with growing unease.
----
The four of them were standing around at the back of the class during lunch, talking cheerfully, offering suggestions of how best to spend the afternoon. Yosuke wanted to take this time to get together and play video games, the four of them. Chie thought that was a silly idea because Yukiko wasn't good at them; she wanted to go get some steaks, preferably paid for by someone other than her. Yukiko, smiling but a little more subdued, responsibly suggested they take some time to train inside the TV.
Souji was quick to point out over all of them that exams were soon approaching and they might want to be using their free time to study. It earned him a nod of satisfaction from Yukiko and groaned protests from Chie and Yosuke, and they all laughed together.
The moment was interrupted by the reedy voice of Mr. Morooka.
"Yosuke Hanamura," it said, in that pushy, cutting way that their homeroom teacher always spoke. "I need your help in the storage room after school."
Yosuke swallowed, dropped his gaze, and ran a hand through his hair. All the life that had just been so evident in him slunk away. "Yeah. Sure, Sensei, no problem."
Souji narrowed his eyes.
"Good," Mr. Morooka said with satisfaction, as Chie rolled her eyes flatly at him and made a gagging gesture behind one hand. "And don't be late you little good-for-nothing. I have better things to do than wait around for kids like you."
"I won't be," Yosuke was quick to assure him. "Don't worry."
Before Souji actually realized what he was doing, he was turning to face their teacher, his poorly chosen wardrobe, sour breath, and buck teeth. "Why Yosuke?" he heard himself asking. The sharpness in his tone suprised even himself. He heard Yukiko gasp a little and could picture all three of them looking at him with gaping shock, but even though he couldn't quite figure out why he had asked, he felt that he needed to know. Something was tugging at him, and he just -- needed to know.
Morooka's eyebrows drew down into his eyes and he gaze Souji a very long, searching look. Souji held the look fiercely, determined not to look away and lose, and eventually Morooka sniffed and waved dismissively at him. "Because he's a good-for-nothing," he sneered with bored disinterest. "And it's my job to make you pathetic kids into something. So he can count it a favour. Any more questions?"
Souji shot a glance over his shoulder to his friends. Yukiko had a hand over her mouth and Chie's eyes were darting everywhere, but it was Yosuke he focused on, his Yosuke. He was looking down at the ground and was holding himself like he had an iron rod shoved up alone his spinal column. Everything about his posture seemed to be wishing himself anywhere but here, wishing it all to go away, and so Souji turned back to Morooka and gave him a tight smile. "No, sir," he said. "No more questions."
Not right now, anyway.
The teacher gave him another long look and then snorted derisively and shuffled away, hands clasped behind his back. There were a few moments of awkward silence and then Chie sighed. "I guess that's no on the steaks, then ..." she said lightly, and then growled. "That's completely unfair, Yosuke. Why does he always get you to do this stuff? It's like he hates you or something. Geez!"
"Yeah," Yosuke said quietly, then cleared his throat slightly and brightened. "Yeah, I don't know, whatever. That's just King Moron, right? It's fine guys, you can go have fun without me if you want. I don't mind, I swear."
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"Hey, I don't need to be spoiled!" Yosuke said, sounding slightly wounded, and they all laughed.
All except Souji. He was watching Morooka walk away, and his mind was whirring. He wondered if his ghostly suspicions could possibly be true. He wondered how long this had been going on. He wondered if anyone else knew.
He wondered what the hell to do, now.
"Hey," Chie said, slightly concerned. "Souji?"
He forced himself to turn back to the others, shaking his head slightly. "I'm good," he said with a smile. "We should really study after school, Chie. Between Yukiko and I, we might actually be able to teach you something."
"Hey!" Chie said, punching his arm with no real force. "What do you mean, 'might'?"
If she noticed the tension in his arm from his clenched fist, she didn't mention it. He was grateful for that.
----
Snatches of murmured voices floated through the heavy door.
"... you ... tell me ... not so ... what ..."
"Noth ... it wasn't ... I ... swear it ..."
A scrape.
"Show you ... just ... going to ..."
"... me ... promise ... please, I ..."
Muffled sounds.
"If you can't ... have to ... trust ... little ..."
A clatter.
A rustle.
A quiet groan.
Then --
"Fuck."
Souji jumped at the volume of the exclamation. He pressed himself back against the wall, heart pounding in his throat, certain that he was about to be caught ... but there was no one in the hall on either side, and neither of the occupants in the strange room came out to see him. He could hear more sounds coming from inside, a thump, more murmurs, a rip, but it all just sort of floated by him, because he had already heard what he needed to hear.
He recognized that fuck. He would recognize that anywhere.
He walked home in a daze.
----
Yosuke had been quiet since he'd first arrived. He'd given his best friend a tight smile when he came into his room, and then dropped down onto the floor beneath the sofa, leaning his head against Souji's socked feet and just sitting there. He displayed none of his usual backseat gaming habits while he watched Souji navigate to a save point, and while he agreed to a few rounds of Soul Calibur, the usual taunts and victory cries were completely absent. Souji even let him win once, in the most obvious way possible, which was Yosuke's pet peeve, and the other boy either didn't notice, or didn't care. Souji set aside his control after six rounds, and Yosuke seemed glad to do the same, and they sat in silence for a long time, Souji feeling awkward and helpless and Yosuke just sitting on the floor, practically snuggling up to Souji's feet.
"Hey, uh," Yosuke said finally, quietly, and Souji was so grateful for the broken silence he could have set off a fireworks display.
"Yeah?" he replied, trying to sound disinterested and landing at about a twelve on a one to ten scale of eagerness.
Yosuke took another moment of silence and then sighed and climbed up on the sofa beside Souji. He wouldn't meet his eyes, though. He curled against his chest like he were a small child and sat quietly for another -- very -- long moment. Souji was about to scream at the tension when Yosuke spoke again.
"I'm sorry about Sunday," he said in one breath. "I mean -- I'm not -- I shouldn't have been so --" he lapsed back into quite for a second, then growled and pushed on. "I mean, if you want to, dude, I want to. Really. I just sort o-of, uh ... panicked. I'm still not used to this whole thing. We're both guys and stuff, that's weird, right? Not that I have a problem with it, I mean I -- I really -- I wouldn't want to be with anybody else. But it's still weird to get used to."
Souji had to hand it to him: if he hadn't figured out just what was going on, he would have been happy to accept the explanation at face value. It was actually pretty convincing, for Yosuke. But he had figured it out, and that meant that he didn't have the first idea what to do about it. "We don't have to," he said, proud at how casual his voice sounded. "I'm alright waiting until you're more comfortable."
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"Probably not," Souji agreed, trying to figure out what the fuck to do.
"Let's go for it, then," Yosuke said with conviction, finally looking up at him. His jaw was set and his eyes were brimming with determination. "I know you want to. So do I. Let's do this. I mean it."
And before Souji had any chance to protest, Yosuke was moving, straddling him, and they were kissing.
Yosuke was a very good kisser. For all the tension and all the strangeness that had always been there, and for all his assumed inexperience, he was, against all odds, damn good at it. He kissed Souji deeply, running his tongue along the crack of his lips, sliding it into his mouth, exploring. One of his hands slid along back of Souji's neck, stroking gently, pulling him closer. Souji almost immediately lost himself in it, holding on only through sheer immovable force of will. He tried to assess the situation as pragmatically as he could when the blood pumping through his veins was roughly as hot as lava. Point: Yosuke knew was he was doing and this was his decision. Counterpoint: if Morooka really was doing what Souji suspected he was, Yosuke wasn't in any appropriate mental state to be making the choice. Point: Souji didn't want Yosuke to know what he knew just yet, and if he said no, it would be a dead giveaway. Counterpoint: That was a completely self-motivated argument.
Yosuke bit his bottom lip and rocked their hips together. Souji moaned so loud he thought Dojima would hear all the way downstairs.
Point: he really, really wanted to fuck Yosuke.
Counterpoint: ...
Souji groaned. He wrapped his arms around Yosuke's back, and, in one smooth motion, lifted, manuevered, dropped, and shifted, and then he was atop the other boy, looking down at him through heavy-lidded eyes. Traitor, his mind accused his body, and then they were kissing again.
Yosuke's fingers were deftly pushing at the buttons of Souji's shirt, releasing them one by one, and then finally pushing his shirt back off his shoulders. His hands slid over Souji's bare back, and Souji moaned into his mouth, loving the feeling. His own hands pulled at the hem of Yosuke's t-shirt, stroking his stomach, running hands up over his chest beneath the fabric. He finally broke the kiss for long enough to pull the shirt up over Yosuke's head and toss it to one side, and then dived right back down.
Now Yosuke's fingers were tugging at the zipper of Souji's pants, and this was officially as far as they had ever been before. Souji's heart was pounding in his head, his breath was uneven. Right, he told himself, feeling like a shit even as he felt better than he could ever remember feeling, as Yosuke started tugging his jeans down over his hips. This is happening. This is what Yosuke wants and Yosuke seems good with it so far and, hey, maybe this is exactly what Yosuke needs, so just calm down. This is happening. Okay.
He pulled away from Yosuke's lips, kissing down his cheek, into his neck. Yosuke was breathing hard, making small, pleased noises in the black of his throat, and Souji kissed up to his ear where he nipped a lobe, then down to his collarbone where he drew his tongue slowly along, and then back up along the slender column of his neck. And then, and then Yosuke had his cock in his hands and was stroking, slowly, and Souji thought that his elbows were going to buckle and he was going to fall right on top of the other boy.
It felt good. Holy fuck, it felt good. He pulled away from Yosuke without thinking, clenching his features, groaning loudly. Shit, that was good. Fuck, shit. "Yosuke ..." he murmured involuntarily. "Oh, yes, that's ... that's good ..."
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He undid the button and zipper of Yosuke's jeans quickly. He could remember so clearly the last time they'd been here, in this position, and it felt like an age ago. Of course, that time, he'd known nothing. And that time, he hadn't had his cock hanging out of his pants.
He pressed a kiss against Yosuke's stomach, and then another, and another, as he fished around in Yosuke's boxers for only a moment, before his hand closed around his best friend's erection and his heart beat even faster, which he wouldn't have believed possible until it was happening. He stroked it twice, finding it a little odd from the different angle than he was used to when doing this himself, but then he was guiding the tip to his mouth instead, and then he was taking the head inside and flicking his tongue along the slit, and then he was in territory so new that it wasn't even weird anymore.
Yosuke groaned, and that make Souji groan, and that made Yosuke groan harder. There were hands in his hair, gently combing at first, and then fisting with a little more force as Souji started to figure out what he was doing and how do to it. He took it halfway in and sucked, then pulled it most of the way out and licked, and then swirled his tongue around the head quickly. Yosuke was whispering something and whimpering, and Souji tried to take as much in as he could but panicked and stopped when he felt the head hit the back of his throat, and went back to what he'd been doing. He wished that he could see Yosuke's face, to try and gauge what his best friend was thinking and feeling, but when he opened his eyes and looked up, Yosuke had his head down flat against the sofa and Souji couldn't make out anything other than nostrils and feathers of auburn hair. He was flying blind, but he thought, at least, that he was doing a decent job of it.
What next, he wondered, as he went, his mind sort of disconnecting from his body. He had condoms hidden behind a knick-knack on the shelf, and they were lubricated, so that was dealt with, though it was going to be awkward to go all the way over there. He supposed this was as good a time as any to take the first steps, though, so he pulled off Yosuke's cock long enough to stick one of his fingers in his mouth, and then, before Yosuke could even look up, was back at his task and drawing groans up from the mouth of his best friend, and his moist finger was sliding down lower and lower, until it found the opening. He took as much of Yosuke in as he could, and then slid the just the very tip of his finger inside.
The change was instantaneous.
Yosuke's body went rigid. The fingers in Souji's hair tightened painfully and his breath went very shallow. All noise seemed to stop.
Slowly, Souji released Yosuke's cock; there was a wet plop as it slid out of his mouth. "Hey," he asked quietly. "Are you okay?"
He could see Yosuke's expression now. He had his face turned off to one side and was wincing in pain. The skin around his eyes was drawn. And now he was trembling, as well, like a leaf, his whole body, shaking. His breath was growing uneven and quick.
"Hey," Souji said again, louder, his voice going higher in concern. He pulled out the finger a moment later, after thinking about it.
"No, no, don't stop," Yosuke protested, his voice a thin plea. "Please don't -- I need you to do this. Souji. Please."
Souji held his breath for a long moment, considering doing just that. He was still hard as a rock and he still wanted to, but another look at the expression on Yosuke's face made his heart tug painfully and he scooted back a bit on the sofa, shaking his head. "I ... I don't know, Yosuke. You're not looking too good."
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"Hey," Souji said sharply. Way too sharply, he grimaced in an afterthought, as he saw the way Yosuke jumped and then slumped guiltily. "Hey," he said, gentler. "It's not like that. You're just looking like you're going to throw up. Of course I want to." He swallowed hard, painfully away of his aching cock. "I really want to."
"Then why the fuck aren't you just doing it?" Yosuke demanded shrilly. Before Souji could think, he was slipping off the sofa and onto his knees, and then he had Souji's cock in his mouth and was sucking hard.
Oh, shit.
If Yosuke was a "good" kisser, Yosuke was a glorious cocksucker, and Souji immediately had the thought that he could sit here forever in this moment and never want to do anything else again. He was like a vacuum cleaner hose lined with cotton. Souji melted, groaning, leaning back. Yosuke's tongue was doing -- something, and his hands were on his balls and his mouth was as wet and warm as the Everglades. Souji looked down for a moment and the sight of Yosuke greedily devouring him also brought the experiement to a premature end immediately. He was sliding along Souij's length expertly, skillfully, and Souji was amazed, with a detached, analytical part of his mind, that he was taking almost the entire thing in. The rest of his mind was just happy, hazy mush. He melted back against the sofa again. It was the blow job that could end dynasties. It was blessed by talent and experience and --
Experience, Souji reminded himself, and sharply shook himself out of his stupor. When he looked down again, he really saw it. He saw Yosuke shivering, he saw how he was struggling to breathe, and he saw tears on his best friend's cheeks, and that was enough to overcome any amount of pleasure, no matter how good it was.
He reached down and grabbed two fistfuls of his best friend's hair, lifting him up off. "Yosuke," he said firmly. "We need to talk."
Yosuke swallowed hard and then ... deflated.
He pulled out of Souji's grip and collapsed onto the floor, burying his face in his hands, sobbing silently -- Souji thought he even heard a gag, but he couldn't be sure. He was momentarily just completely overwhelmed with guilt at how he'd allowed it to continue after knowing that it was hurting him, but he forced himself to shove it aside, because it wasn't helping Yosuke, not now, and took a moment to firmly tuck himself away and dress himself. And then, then he slipped down beside Yosuke and handed him his shirt.
"Hey," he said, in little more than a whisper. "Yosuke. Let's talk."
Yosuke shook his head slightly. He took the offered shirt and then immediately buried his face in it.
"Come on, please. I ..." Souji warred with himself and then chose to dive in. "I think I know what's wrong."
Yosuke tensed. "Please say you don't, man. Dammit, please say you don't." His voice was muffled by his shirt, but Souji wasn't sure he could have read it, anyway, just from the set of his shoulders, the way his knuckles were white as they dug into his shirt. He knew Yosuke. He knew Yosuke better than anyone else. This Yosuke was nearly a stranger.
Souji felt helpless and drifting. He struggled to find any sort of lifeboat in the endless kilometres of confusing sea that seemed to stretch out all around him. "I can't do anything to fix it unless you tell me. Yosuke ... come on."
"Fuck you," Yosuke spat, and then his shoulders shook and he sobbed, just once. "No, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I don't mean that, I just ..."
"It's Morooka, isn't it?" Souji said, unable to stop himself.
Yosuke went tense, and then slowly, very slowly, shook his head. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said dully.
"Yosuke --"
"And I don't want to talk about this. I'm just not feeling well, okay, dude? That's it. Just -- just stop asking questions. Please?"
(SORRY! gotta stop here now. Lot more coming, it'll be up soon.)
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Anon, I love you and I'M NOT A BIT SORRY THAT MORON DIES ANYMORE.
*obsessively hits refresh*
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It was then that Souji realized that he was not all alone in the ocean. Yosuke was with him there. And he didn't need a lifeboat, because he had one. He was fine. He was dry, and safe, and fine. It was Yosuke who needed saving, and Souji couldn't find any way to help, so instead, he was standing there, safe and dry in his lifeboat, watching the person he loved the most drown.
He stared at Yosuke, quivering, crying Yosuke, with his face buried in his shirt, and he shut up. He sat closer and wrapped one arm around his best friend's shoulders, pulling him close. It was a completely unsexual touch, he made sure of that. And Yosuke apparently could tell, because there was no tension and no strangeness, and instead he just let himself be cradled, leaning against Souji's chest, and they sat in silence until it was too late to excuse doing so anymore, and Yosuke left.
----
Souji slid across the table from Dojima after he'd closed the front door. His uncle barely looked up from his paper or his coffee and so Souji waited a long time, sitting there patiently, until Dojima finally seemed to notice.
He looked up over the top of the paper. "You want to talk?" he asked, eyebrows raised.
Souji nodded evenly, and Dojima sighed with mock exasperation and folded his paper. "I was just getting to the good part," he said mournfully, with a sideways smile. "You kids, always needing to be entertained." When Souji didn't laughed, or even smile, Dojima's brow furrowed. "What's up?" he asked. "Is it your friend? Hanamura-kun?" Souji said nothing, and Dojima nodded slowly. "I promise, nothing you're fighting about now will seem worth it in ten years. He's a good kid, and seems like a pretty good friend. You two should work it out."
"No," Souji said, shaking is head. "Not a fight."
"Not a fight?" Dojima sat back in his chair and drew out a cigarette from his shirt pocket. "Alright. What, then?"
He seemed genuinely curious, which was a good thing, and had been the plan. Dojima was a detective, after all. He was always more invested in something when his interest was piqued. Souji chose his words carefully. "What would I do if I think there's been a crime commited?" he asked.
Dojima frowned. "This had better not be about the murders, again, or so help me --"
"Not the murders."
Dojima took a long drag and seemed to consider. Then he sighed. "Fine, okay. I'll accept that. Not the murders, then." He pulled over an ashtray from the centre of the table. "Well, you'd report it."
"Well, I don't think there's any evidence. And the person it's been committed against isn't actually saying anything. In fact, they're denying that anything even happened."
Dojima raised an eyebrow. "Then how do you know?"
Souji set his lips in a thin line. "I know."
"Hm." Dojima lapsed into thought. He smoked and knocked off his ashes and smoked some more, and Souji watched the secretive march of speculation across his features. Finally Dojima took a deep breath and stroked his stubbled chin thoughtfully. "Okay," he said. "You're going to have to tell me what crime this is, because there are just too many possibilities here for me to tell you much of anything. The law isn't absolute. It's tricky. There are a lot of different hallways."
Souji dropped his eyes. He didn't want to say it, that was the problem. Saying it would make it real, moreso even than hearing the murmurs and the thumps and Yosuke's pained protest had, moreso than Yosuke's shivering terror had. Until he said it, he could just pretend that this was something else. He could pretend that it would maybe just go away. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply.
"Souji," Dojima said finally. "I can't help if you're not going to cooperate. What's the crime?"
And Souji thought of Yosuke's tears, Yosuke's distress, and just how damn much he wanted to help Yosuke, and he gathered up all his courage and waded into the breach. "Sexual assualt," he said weakly. "I think a teacher at school is abusing a student."
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"I know that," said Souji firmly. "But I'm sure."
Dojima gave him another searching look, and then nodded slowly and took a long drag from his cigarette. "I believe you, then. Okay. Who are we talking about?"
Souji agonized for a moment. "What are you going to do when I tell you?"
"Hopefully, I'm going to talk to them and convince them that they need to bring up charges if this is actually happening. Otherwise, it's tricky. Don't worry. Until I've given that my best shot, I won't tell anyone else or start an investigation. I'll respect their privacy as well as I can. But if this is true, they're probably not the first and probably won't be the last, and my job is to protect people."
"Yeah," said Souji, and his mouth was dry and he was panicking just a bit at the thought of having to moderate an interrogation between Yosuke and his uncle. But he didn't see any other way, and it was sure as hell better than letting that bastard just keep on with what he was doing. He felt his fist tighten under the table. "Okay. It's King Moron. My homeroom teacher."
Dojima nodded slowly. "I know Morooka. I can't say I'm not surprised, but I think I can see it from him, maybe. And who's in trouble?" And he gave Souji a very measured, very deliberate look.
He knew already, Souji realized. It wasn't that hard to put together, now that he thought of it, after the non-answer Souji had given him about Yosuke. Dojima knew who it was, but he wasn't going to do anything unless Souji actually told him. He felt an outpouring of appreciation for his uncle, who respected him enough to let him gauge this situation for himself.
"It's Yosuke," Souji said, and felt a weight fly up off his shoulders. "I think Mr. Morooka is hurting Yosuke."
----
Morooka snappped the book on the podium shut, and the class breathed a sigh of relief. "Yeah, yeah," the teacher said mockingly. "That's all for today. Go home and waste your time instead of studying and working hard, you losers. I won't be shocked if not a single one of you makes something decent out of your damn selves. You all make me sick. Go on, get out of here. And -- Hanamura!" Morooka snapped suddenly.
Souji could feel Yosuke sit up straighter in his seat. "Sensei?"
"Storage room again today."
And he could feel Yosuke slump. "Y-yes, Sensei. I'll be there."
----
Souji couldn't help but wonder just what the fuck, exactly, what wrong with him. He already knew what was going on. He'd seen enough evidence to last him a lifetime.
But after talking with his uncle and climbing the stairs to be, he'd found himself haunted, tormented, but the fact that he'd known what was going on with Yosuke, and he had just allowed himself to go along with it anyways. He had convinced himself that it was the right thing to do, that Yosuke had the right to make the choice, even though he'd known that he should have been firmly saying no. The guilt crushed him.
In a way, he supposed he was here to punish himself. He was just that smart.
Closer to the door, today, because guilt was nothing if not self-destructive. If he got caught, he was sure he could talk Morooka out of it being intentional, and, well, if Yosuke hated him, he probably deserved it. He could hear the voices much more clearly this time, slipping out from between the cracks of the closed and locked storage room door.
"Aren't you eager today," Morooka's voice sneered.
"Shut up," Yosuke's replied, and he sounded just ... tired.
A sharp sound, like tin on concrete, and then Yosuke hissed loudly in pain. Souji's heart was in his throat. "Don't you talk back to me, Hana-chan. You useless goddamned shithead. You do what I tell you to do and don't ask any fucking questions, isn't that right?"
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"Yes what?" Morooka demanded roughly.
"Yes sir."
Morooka chuckled. "Better, that's better," he said. "Now bend the fuck over and spread those cheeks, you little cunt, and make it quick. I've got a staff meeting."
But even masochism had its breaking point, and Souji couldn't stand the thought of hearing Yosuke be violated again. He pushed himself off the wall and hurried away as quickly as he could, and was blissfully spared the cry of pain.
He was going to do something about this, he promised, forcing himself to breathe and to not shatter his fist on a concrete wall. Both too a lot of concenration.
He was going to fucking fix this.
----
Souji dialed Yosuke's number.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
"Hey! This is Yosuke Hanamura, and I probably lost my phone in the laundry, so just leave your name and number and I'll probably call you back as soon my mom finds it and yells at me."
He hung up. Dialed again.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
"Hey! This is Yosuke Hanamura, and I probably lost my phone in the laundry, so just leave your name and number and I'll probably call you back as soon my mom finds it and yells at me."
Hung up. Dialed again.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
"Hey! This is Yosuke Hanamura ..."
Finally, after ten rings, he gave up, waited for the beep, and said into the phone as calmly as he could, "Yosuke, it's Souji. Pick up." And then he waited five seconds and sighed. "And in the off-chance that you're actually not there, just ... please, just call me when you get in, okay? I need to talk to you. Please. ... I'm really worried. And uh, I ..." I love you so goddamned much, he wanted to say, from absolutely out of nowhere, but that wasn't going to happen. "I miss you," he said again, which felt completely inadequate to express the feelings that were threatening to overwhelm him. "Right. So. Call me. Bye."
He waited all night, jumping at every sound.
His phone didn't ring.
----
He caught up to Yosuke on the way to school the next morning.
His best friend was walking slower than anyone else along the road, and barely seemed to notice as Souji fell into step beside him. But Souji saw the way he flinched ever so slightly. He knew he was there.
He decided to give him all the space he might need, not saying anything, just walking in slow, companionable silence. It occured to Souji that they might end up late for school, at this pace, but he was willing to risk that, no matter how Chie would berate them obliviously and how they might incur the wrath of ... Morooka. His thoughts darkened at the very name.
Finally, Yosuke cleared his throat quietly. "I, uh, I got your message, dude."
"Yeah?" Souji said, casually. Then why didn't you call? he wanted to say, but didn't. Why bother? Completely counterproductive.
"Yeah. Sorry I didn't get back to you, but, uh, I think I ate some crazy bad sushi last night. It was awful. I was puking my guts out until morning. Sorry."
"Oh?" Souji gave him a once over. That was possible, actually; Yosuke looked pretty pale and very tired. Of course, there were other factors that could be contributing to that, as well. How would he know? He sighed at his own suspicion and decided to just give out the benefit of the doubt, wondering who it could possibly hurt. "You okay?"
"Well, you know puke," Yosuke said lightly, but his heart clearly wasn't in it. "Anyways," he said after a second, "what did you want? You sounded pretty ..." he ran a hand through auburn hair self-consciously. "Well, you sounded kind of upset."
Hysterical, probably, in retrospect. "Sorry about that, I was pretty stressed out over homework."
"Dude, don't say that you called me to get help with homework."
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Yosuke actually grinned at that, genuinely. "Hey, I'm not the one who eats whatever crap is laying around in the fridge just to prove I can, okay?" And then he sighed and the smile was gone as quickly as it had come, the only sun in days waltzing away behind a cloud. Souji already missed it. "But I don't know about tonight. I, uh, I might have some stuff. School stuff."
In the storage room? But he didn't say it. He was getting pretty good at this internal censor thing.
"After that, then."
"I ... dunno, man, it might take a while."
"That's fine."
Yosuke chewed his lip, appearing deep in thought, and then he suddenly and unexpectedly asked, "So, like, what are we?"
Souji blinked. "Um," he said eloquently. "Human? High school students? Uh, city boys in Inaba? Rakishly handsome? Help me out, I'm running out of things."
Yosuke didn't laugh. "I mean ..." he looked around and dropped his voice. "You and me. We've never talked about it, and I want to know. I really want to know."
Souji paused. He'd been wondering about that, himself, before all of this had gotten complicated. With everything else going on, it had been shelved until ... well, more or less up until he'd almost blurted a confession of love into Yosuke's voicemail in the middle of the night. And since then, he hadn't known what to think. Had felt guilty for even taking the time to think about it. But now, here, Yosuke was asking, and that permission let him wonder freely for the first time in weeks. "I ..." he paused. He really didn't know.
"It's not friends with benefits, right?" Yosuke said. His face grew very distant and he looked down at the ground. "Because I ... I don't want that. I can't -- can't handle that."
There was a raw honesty in the statement that made Souji's heart ache. "I don't think it is," he said.
Yosuke nodded casually, but some tension went out of his shoulders. "Okay," he said. "Then what?"
Souji refused to say boyfriend because that sounded wrong and awkward. It was like sticking a round peg in a square hole. He refused to say dating because the idea of them sitting in a fancy restaurant with candles and flowers was equally ridiculous. And he didn't want to just frankly say how he really felt, either, because ...
Well, because when Yosuke then slapped the hand he was holding out to help him up with and then never spoke to him again, it was going to hurt a hell of a lot less if he kept that bit to himself.
But Yosuke was waiting for some answer, to Souji shrugged and said, lightly, as if it didn't matter too much to him either way, "I guess ..." he began uncertainly. "I guess it's like a relationship." He kept thinking of Yosuke crying on his floor, of Yosuke saying Yes, sir, and of Yosuke not calling him back all last night, no matter how desperate his message had sounded.
Yosuke nodded again, slower this time, as if he were weighing something. "That's what I was ... yeah, hoping. Mostly." And he smiled weakly. It looked real, but it also looked very wane. "Okay, yeah, sure, dude. I'll come over tonight."
Souji didn't realize until partway through the morning that Yosuke knew that this wasn't just going to be a normal visit. He also realized that he'd been given some sort of test to see if it was worth coming anyway, and had passed.
----
Souji slipped off from Yukiko giggling and throwing balled pieces of paper at a sighing Chie during lunch. He ducked into one of the alcoves and dialed Dojima's phone.
"Souji?" his uncle's voice asked. "I can't talk long, it's crazy down here.
"That's fine," Souji said. "I talked to him. He's coming over today."
"Today?" Dojima grunted.
"Is that going to be a problem?" Souji asked, heart sinking. He wasn't sure he could talk Yosuke back a second time, not when he knew that this was, for all intents and purposes, a trap.
Dojima paused. "No," he said finally. "Not a problem. I'll be there."
And relief washed in. "Alright. Thanks."
----
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The moment passed.
He and Yosuke gathered up their things at a slightly slower pace, not saying much of anything but enjoying the companionable silence that thrummed between them. Yosuke seemed almost ... normal in the orange afternoon light. There was a drawn tightness in the corners of his face, and his movements were slightly clipped, but he was smiling tiredly and laughing occassionally. He seemed less like a man driven to the edge and more like a man who just needed to sleep for a month.
"Yosuke Hanamura!"
They both froze. Yosuke's eyes closed tightly shut for a moment before he turned to the teacher with neutrel expression pasted messily onto his pained face. "Sensei?"
Morooka looked Yosuke over, and the greedy possessiveness that Souji saw there drove him so close to just decking him and then maybe fucking killing him seeing where it went from there. He held himself back. Dojima would be home tonight, and they'd deal with all of this. Morooka's eyes lingered for a long time and then, finally, he made a dismissive sound and waved Yosuke off. "Get out of here, shithead," he spat. "I don't need you today. You're off the hook."
Yosuke seemed almost to melt into a puddle on the ground. "T-thank you, Sensei," he breathed. He looked genuinely grateful to his "benefactor."
For some reason, it made Souji want to kill Morooka even more than the pained resignation had.
----
"So," Yosuke said, when they were drawing close to the Dojima residence. "We're going to talk to your uncle, right?" He said this with the expression that most people save for statements like So, I have a week to choose between lethal injection and electric shock, right?
"... yeah," Souji said after a minute.
Yosuke nodded. "I figured."
Souji licked his lips uncertainly. "Are you ..." he began, not sure how to ask the question. "Are you going to say anything?"
Yosuke flinched slightly. His shoulders hunched up and he raised a hand to the back of his neck. "I don't know."
"Dojima wants to help."
"Yeah."
"So do I."
"... yeah."
"So you admit something's going on?"
Yosuke shrugged weakly. "Why not? You know, don't you? What's the freaking point." He looked as if he were carrying the Tokyo Tower on his back and had borne witness to a thousand atrocities. Souji just wanted to pull him close and hold him, but he was too aware of the prying eyes of whispering housewives and curious children to do anything of the sort. He settled for brushing his hand lightly against his, and Yosuke looked over at him suddenly, surprised.
Souji gave him a smile that he meant to be encouraging, but felt mostly just sick. "Just talk to Dojima," he said quietly. "Please."
When they got to the house, it was empty. There was a note in Nanako's deliberate, hiragana-exclusive script on the fridge informing them that she was at a friend's and had left dinner for them. Yosuke dropped into the sofa and turned on the television while Souji pulled the dishes in question out of the fridge and began heating them.
"So where is he?" Yosuke asked, barely looking up from some ridiculous anime that seemed to have commandeered his attention.
Souji frowned. He pulled out how phone. No new messages. "It was busy at the station when I called during lunch, but he'll be here," he said confidently. "How much rice do you want?"
Yosuke grinned. "As much as you're willing to spare, of course."
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"Hey," Yosuke said, sounding offended. "I was watching that."
"I don't know how," Souji said. "That stuff is awful. It'll rot your brain. It's no wonder your grades are so bad."
"Oh, and what do you watch, Mr. Top Of The Class? Foreign art films and noh?"
"I read."
"Ugh."
A long moment of silence, and then Yosuke leaned down and set his plate on the floor gently. And then, to Souji's surprise, he reached out and took his plate, as well, and set it down with his own, despite it not even being empty yet. And then, just to turn the surprise into shock, the redhead curled up against Souji's chest and rested his head there.
Souji was frozen for a moment. The drapes were wide open. It was less that he was ashamed and more that he thought Yosuke would be, were he at full capacity, but he was loathe to point it out in the case that Yosuke realized what he was doing and just didn't care. Maybe the need for comfort was far outweighing the need to be a normal teenaged boy. In fact, Souji thought, remembering Morooka's mocking voice, you little cunt, that made a great deal of sense.
So Souji stroked Yosuke's hair with one hand, and just let himself drift for a quiet moment. He tried not to think about the emotions that overwhelmed him in the quiet moment, and he tried not to think about what was going to happen when Dojima got home, and he tried not to think about that fucking Morooka and what he'd done to Yosuke. Instead, he focused on Yosuke's even breathing, and on how surprisingly soft his hair was, and on the fact that, for now at least, he seemed willing to talk to Dojima and let something be done about this.
"Hey, partner?" Yosuke said finally.
"Hm?"
"I'm ... I really ..." he hesitated. "I'm kind of scared."
"You know," Souji said, trying to pick his words carefully, "you could probably kill that asshole in three seconds, if you wanted to."
Yosuke shook his head. "Yeah, but it's not -- it's hard to explain ..." he was shivering again. "It's really impossible to explain, actually, and I feel pretty stupid, I really do, because it's --" his voice caught "-- it's freaking King Moron, and how pathetic am I?! But when he -- when I --"
"Hey, it's okay," Souji said quickly. Yosuke was shaking almost violently against him now. "You don't need to explain yourself to me. I'm sorry I said anything, I really am."
"... yeah. Yeah, okay," Yosuke agreed. He shifted slightly, and then he was laying down on the couch with his head in Souji's lap, and he looked up at him searchingly. The tension seemed to drain out of him, and he took a deep, shuddering breath. And then they lapsed into quiet again, and Souji let his eyes wander out the window and he began to wonder just what was keeping Dojima. If he didn't show up ...
Well, that would be a fight that even Dojima couldn't whitewash for Nanako.
"Hey, partner?" Yosuke said again, sounding a little sleepy.
"Yeah?"
Yosuke said nothing else, and for a second Souji worried that he'd fallen asleep, but when he looked down, his best friend seemed to mostly just be lost in thought: brow furrowed, lips pursed. "You know --" he said, and then cut himself off, frowning heavily, deep in his own mind. "You know," he started again finally, "what makes me ... the thing that upsets me the most about ... all of this? About what he's -- what he's done?"
Souji waited as long as he could to see if it was a rhetorical question, but it seemed that really Yosuke wanted an answer. "No," he hazarded awkwardly. "What?"
(and that's all I have in me for tonight, there's still probably about another 1/3 left so tune in to see what happens next!1!1
This is the longest fic ever.)
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