Archive of Our Own

The first time it happens, Yosuke almost—almost—convinces himself that it’s a fluke.

It starts like this: himself soaking in the bath, his mind still buzzing after their trip into the TV. When he closes his eyes, he can see that stifling fog, can feel it drifting into his lungs. He can still hear his own voice echoing—distorted, mocking, but unmistakably his, reminding him of everything he’s tried so hard to bury. His bitterness. His loneliness.

He can still hear Saki’s voice, filled with disdain—and despair.

And then there was Yu Narukami. Yu, who commanded his Persona like he was born to do it, every one of his movements mirrored in Izanagi, rolling his neck as he readied himself for whatever that world had to throw at him. Yu, who watched and listened to Yosuke’s ugliest feelings and didn’t turn away in disgust, who reached a hand out and pulled him back to his feet after it was all said and done.

Yosuke had felt a kinship with him from the start—both city boys forced to transfer out to the sticks, outsiders in a town where everyone knows everyone. Now, though, it’s more than just a bond based on their origins. Now, they have a secret—and a promise—to keep. They have a responsibility, a goal, a purpose.

Besides, he owes it to Saki to bring her killer to justice.

God. Saki. He didn’t see her body, thankfully, but he knows how it was found, and he can picture it clear as day: her lifeless form hanging from a telephone pole, her hair falling away from her face.

If he thinks about it for too long, his stomach churns and his eyes start to sting. Yosuke cups his hands beneath the bathwater and splashes his face with it, willing his thoughts to shift back to something less gruesome, something less heartbreaking. He can’t think about Saki’s death. It’ll kill him.

So his mind returns to Yu Narukami. Idly, he remembers the warmth he felt when he grasped Yu’s hand in his own, the warmth in Yu’s voice, in his reassuring smile. The way it had stilled him, just for a moment. The way it brought him back to himself—all of himself.

His body aches with exhaustion from the ordeal, but even as the warm water soothes his sore muscles, his brain stays active, replaying Yu’s words and expressions, the inexplicable way he draws people to him. Or maybe it’s just Yosuke that’s drawn to him: that cool demeanor, those skilled hands, solid and steady.

Yosuke starts and bolts upright, his heart skipping at the direction his thoughts have taken. What the hell is he doing, thinking about another guy’s hands like that? They only just met, for one thing, and more importantly, he has no reason to be thinking this kind of crap. He’s not like that.

Balling his hands into fists, Yosuke rubs hard at his eyes until colors start to swirl in his vision. He’s not sure he wants to find out how far his mind would go if he didn’t rein it in.

It has to be a fluke. It has to be. Yosuke can’t deny the awe he felt watching Yu unlock his Persona, and he can’t pretend he doesn’t feel the faint stirrings of respect and camaraderie sprouting between them—but that’s all it is. He’s probably just still shaken after everything that happened, and his brain, in its exhaustion, meandered into unexpected territory in an attempt to find a distraction. Hell, if he’s being honest with himself, he probably keeps coming back to Yu because he’s trying to latch onto whoever’s closest. Afraid of being alone, just like his Shadow said.

Whatever the reason, it certainly can’t mean anything more than that he needs some goddamn sleep. Once the storm inside him blows over, any ludicrous thoughts he might have had about Yu will surely disappear for good.

Yosuke was wrong.

He’d thought—no, rather, he’d hoped—that it was just a coincidence, a one-time thing. But instead of fading away with time, that feeling in his chest has only grown stronger as he and Yu grow closer. Yu makes him want—what, he doesn’t know, but no amount of dirty magazines or talk about girls has been able to completely wipe it away, and it’s not for lack of trying.

Not even fixating on the case can distract him entirely. When he thinks about the TV World, about Personas, he thinks about Yu, remembering the way his heart pounds and his blood burns when they fight together. And when he thinks about the murders, he thinks about Saki—about how she died, yes, but mostly about when she was alive. About the kindness she showed him, and how it never really meant anything to her, but it meant everything to him.

“Narukami,” he says one day, resting his elbow on the table in the Junes food court, “you’d tell me if you didn’t like hanging out with me, right?”

He keeps it casual, his gaze wandering upward to the brightly colored Junes sign, but inside, something twists in his gut. It’s an ugly little thought, the exact sort of thing his Shadow taunted him about—but he should confront it rather than letting it fester, right? He needs to make sure it’s all in his head, that little voice that tells him, He’s only friends with you because he’s too nice to tell you what he really thinks. Just like Saki.

And the thing is, Yosuke wouldn’t even be mad if that were the case. He’s not mad at Saki, though he knows some would tell him he should be. The fact that she was kind to him at all was enough for him, even if it wasn’t entirely genuine.

Across from him, Yu blinks. “Well, yeah, of course I would.” He cocks his head. “Where’d this come from all of a sudden?”

Yosuke can feel his cheeks starting to heat up, and he rubs his nose as an excuse to cover part of his face. “I…just wanted to make sure, that’s all.”

Yu raises an eyebrow, a playful but good-natured smile on his face. “Well, I do enjoy hanging out with you. I’m not just your friend because you’re the manager’s son or because I felt sorry for you or something, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Yosuke blushes harder. Always so blunt, that guy. “I wasn’t thinking that!” Unfortunately, his voice rises in pitch, giving him away.

Yu, mercifully, doesn’t appear to be offended. Or even surprised, really. “No, of course not,” he says with a wave of his hand, though the teasing smile still lingers. “Perish the thought.”

At that, Yosuke covers his face with both hands. “Duuuude,” he whines, suddenly wishing he had something to throw at him. “I’m serious!”

“So am I,” Yu replies, and then he laughs. Through the gaps in his fingers, Yosuke can see the way his head tips back, uncharacteristically expressive.

Despite himself, Yosuke can’t help but laugh, too.

He can ignore it for a little while—the way his gaze lingers on Yu, the lightness in his chest when they run into each other in the mornings, the way his first impulse when anything happens is to call Yu and tell him about it. He focuses on the cases, on Junes, even on exams to an extent, and that way he doesn’t think about how the word partner slips so easily and naturally from his lips.

Everything is okay, mostly. There’s the murders, of course, and the Midnight Channel, and there’s that tiny part of him that still doubts, that waits with bated breath for the other shoe to drop, for Yu to finally decide he’s had enough of Yosuke—but as long as he’s busy, he doesn’t dwell on it.

And then Kanji Tatsumi enters the picture.

Truthfully, it’s not really Kanji’s fault. Yosuke knows this, deep down. It’s what he represents. It’s the way his Shadow begs to be set free, how it cries out for someone, anyone, to accept him for who he is.

It hits closer to home than Yosuke would’ve expected. And it’s fucking terrifying.

He can’t help it—that night, after they’ve finished rescuing Kanji, once everyone else is in bed and the house is quiet, he calls Yu.

“Hey,” he says, sitting alone in the darkness of his room. “Sorry for calling so late. I know you’re probably beat.”

“I’m fine,” Yu replies without hesitation. “No apologies necessary.”

Once again, Yosuke is struck by just how nice Yu is, how…perfect. Smart, handsome, likable, and fit too? Yosuke could never measure up.

“Oh, good,” he says, clearing his throat as he suddenly remembers the reason he called in the first place. “So, um…about today.”

“You mean in the TV World?”

Yosuke’s mouth feels dry. “Yeah.”

“It was definitely…a lot,” Yu says. “Are you alright?”

Yosuke shrugs, though Yu can’t see it. “I think so. I just…” He’s not sure how to put it into words. Maybe he should’ve texted instead, given himself time to craft a response, but he needed to hear Yu’s voice.

“It’s kinda messing with me for some reason,” he admits. “I don’t get it. I didn’t feel like this after Chie or Yukiko’s Shadows.” Sure, it was a bit shocking to see his friends’ deepest struggles, but neither encounter bothered him the way this one does.

“Well, neither of their Shadows were ass-naked,” Yu says.

Yosuke’s ears burn, but he laughs a little, too. “Somehow I don’t think that’s quite it.” Though it probably didn’t help. If Kanji skips town after this, Yosuke wouldn’t blame him in the slightest.

Yu is quiet for a few moments. Then he says, “Maybe you related to him more than the others?”

Yosuke’s heart speeds up just a little. He can feel himself entering defensive mode. “Wh-what do you mean? I’m not—you know. Like that.”

“Like what?” Yu asks.

Yosuke cringes. “You know what,” he says. “I-I don’t swing that way.” When did he get so hot? Suddenly he’s broken out into a sweat.

“I wasn’t trying to imply that,” Yu says mildly. “I’m just saying that maybe something his Shadow said got to you for some reason.”

That’s exactly what Yosuke was afraid of—and yet, he can’t deny it. That fear of rejection—it’s not so different from Yosuke’s fear, the fear of being alone because no one cares about him.

Yosuke sighs, his shoulders slumping. He realizes he probably reacted too severely, making unreasonable leaps in logic.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I know you didn’t mean anything by it. I’m just being stupid.” He chuckles self-deprecatingly, hoping it’ll release some of the tension in his chest. He can’t think too hard about why his mind went there, why he got so defensive.

Yosuke lies down on his back on the futon and stares up at the ceiling. “And you’re probably right,” he continues. “That stuff about just wanting someone to accept you…”

“It’s a normal thing to feel,” Yu says. “Especially if you feel like everyone hates you.”

Yosuke’s heart squeezes. Yu really doesn’t beat around the bush sometimes. But it’s true. Yu saw it for himself. Yosuke does still feel the weight of others’ opinions, as much as he wishes he didn’t. It’s why he tries so hard to be a people pleaser, like maybe if he grovels, they’ll hate him less.

“I guess so,” Yosuke murmurs, a self-pitying frown on his face. “Damn it…I thought I already did this, you know? Facing myself, I mean.”

Yu is quiet for a moment. “You know what I think?” he says. “I think facing yourself—making peace with yourself—it’s not something you do just once, and then it’s over. It’s something you have to keep doing, again and again, as many times as it takes.”

Now it’s Yosuke’s turn to be silent, stunned by both the simplicity and the profundity of Yu’s words. No wonder Yu didn’t have to face his Shadow; it feels like he already has everything figured out. And it makes sense, of course—it was foolish of Yosuke to think he could just change overnight. Facing his Shadow was never really the end—it was only the beginning.

He laughs a little. “Yeah,” he says. “You’re right. I think I probably knew that.” He yawns and stretches his arms out, his phone still propped against his ear. “Man, I’m beat. I think I’m gonna get to bed here soon. But hey, thanks for listening, okay? It means a lot.”

“Anytime,” Yu says, and it sounds like he means it.

Yosuke shouldn’t be anxious the first time he steps foot in Yu’s bedroom. His heart shouldn’t thud in his chest as he glances at the futon or the dresser, as he feels Yu’s presence next to him in the closed space, as a vision flashes in his mind of how it would feel to bridge such a small gap.

It’s stupid. He’s the one who decided to come over in the first place. Hell, he practically invited himself in; he can’t back out now. And it’s just a bedroom, for fuck’s sake.

So he dons a playful grin and does what he does best in situations like these: he deflects, striking up a conversation about dirty magazines and bringing girls home. Perfectly normal things for two teenage boys to discuss. And it’s not like he’s not interested in what Yu has to say.

Still, he can’t help the twinge of jealousy in his gut when Yu says he has plans to bring a girl to his room soon. The problem is that he’s not sure who he’s jealous of.

That’s not to say he isn’t having fun, though. He always feels a bit lighter when he’s with Yu. He can’t remember the last time he clicked so well with someone, like their minds are always on the same wavelength.

It’s these thoughts that spur Yosuke to do what he had joked about doing earlier: when Yu gets up to use the restroom (sparing Yosuke a knowing glance), he hops up from the couch and crouches down on the floor. Yu hadn’t seemed particularly concerned—in fact, it almost seems like he expects Yosuke to look—and besides, they have similar tastes. Maybe they’ll even have some of the same stuff.

Lifting up part of the futon, Yosuke soon finds what he was looking for stashed underneath, and he feels a slight blush creep up his neck as he pulls out a small pile of magazines. They’re mostly what he expected, scantily clad women in various poses, but one on the bottom catches his attention, its design noticeably different from the rest.

His heart jumps into his throat when he glimpses the cover. For a moment, all he can do is stare.

Because the person on the front is a shirtless man.

The other magazines slip out of Yosuke’s grasp and tumble onto the floor in front of him, but he barely notices. His fingers move without consent from his brain, flipping through the pages in a near frenzy. Men. It’s all men.

He doesn’t know why he’s so worked up. This has nothing to do with him. And it’s not like it would make him hate Yu or anything. Of course it wouldn’t. That’s his best friend. That’s his partner.

So why is his face so hot as he flips through these pictures? Why are his mind and heart both racing?

“Whatcha got there?”

Yu’s voice breaks him out of his trance. Yosuke yelps in surprise, nearly dropping the magazine as he leaps to his feet. “Um!” he says, his voice jumping three octaves. He hides the magazine behind his back, as if that’ll do any good. “N-nothing! Nothing at all! N-nice stash you got there, bro! Ahaha…”

Yu looks like he’s not sure whether to be amused or concerned. Closing the bedroom door behind him, he says, “Yosuke.”

Somehow, hearing Yu say his name like that—just his name, nothing else, like it’s a whole sentence on its own—is enough for Yosuke to cut the crap. It’s not like he ever had a chance to fool Yu anyway. With a sigh, he pulls the magazine out from behind his back and holds it out for Yu to take.

Yu steps a little closer. With one hand, he takes the magazine; with the other, he reaches out and touches Yosuke’s forehead. His face is perfectly deadpan as he says, “Are you sick? You’re burning up.”

Yosuke groans and swats Yu’s hand away. “Don’t patronize me,” he whines, flopping onto the couch and staring down at his lap. He can feel Yu’s curious gaze burning holes into his skull.

For a moment, neither of them says anything. Finally, Yosuke blurts, “So you’re into that kind of thing, huh?”

Yu snorts. “What do you mean, ‘that kind of thing?’ You mean guys?”

Yosuke glances back up at Yu. He’s sure his face is still bright red. “Well, yeah.”

Yu shrugs. “Yeah. I like guys and girls. I thought you knew.”

Yosuke’s jaw nearly drops. “What? No, I didn’t know! You never told me!” He hates the way his voice cracks. Did he miss something? Has he been so wrapped up in his own bullshit that he never noticed any hints Yu might have dropped? And here he thought Kanji was the oblivious one.

The muscles in Yu’s jaw tense up. He swallows hard. “I didn’t think I had to,” he says, sitting down next to Yosuke. His voice, completely calm just a moment ago, now wavers. “I wasn’t trying to hide it or anything. I guess it just never really came up.”

He’s nervous, Yosuke realizes. Yu Narukami—always seemingly calm, confident, unflappable—is afraid of what Yosuke might think of him.

Yosuke remembers how Yu so deftly dodged the subject the night they talked about Kanji’s Shadow. He remembers how Yu stayed mostly quiet as Yosuke and Kanji argued in the tent during the camping trip. Maybe Yu never did try to hide it on purpose. Maybe Yosuke was the one who was hiding from it.

Yosuke pulls his knees up to his chest and rests his chin on them. Isn’t there a quota or something for stupidity? Hasn’t he already reached his limit for the year?

“Never came up, my ass,” he mutters. “What about during the camping trip?”

Yu chuckles sheepishly. “You know, I did wonder why you were so focused on Kanji’s sexuality, but not mine.”

Yosuke suddenly wishes he could crawl into a hole and never come back out. He wishes he could scrub that camping trip from everyone’s memories, but most of all his own. He doesn’t know why he reacted so badly. He doesn’t know why the subject terrifies him so much.

“Speaking of,” Yu adds, his tone growing more serious, “I promise I won’t…you know. Try anything. With you. If that’s what you’re worried about.”

Yosuke blinks. “Huh? No, no, that’s not what I…” He shakes his head. How can he explain that he’s not upset with Yu, but with himself?

Yosuke sighs again. “Man, I’m sorry,” he says. “I think it was just my gut reaction to freak out. You know I wouldn’t hate you for something like that, right? I don’t hate Kanji either.”

“I know,” Yu says, but even so, his body relaxes, betraying his anxiety. “You’re not mad that I didn’t tell you?”

“Nah,” Yosuke says, and it’s true—he isn’t. “You said it yourself: you thought I knew.” He frowns and glances away. “I just—I’m sure I could’ve figured it out if I’d only paid closer attention. Some partner I am, huh?”

Yu is quiet for a moment. When he speaks, his voice is stronger, his nervousness dissipating like dew in morning light.

“Hey,” he says, resting a hand on Yosuke’s shoulder. “Don’t blame yourself. You know now, right? Better late than never. And if I really wanted you to know, I should have just told you straight out rather than assuming you already knew.”

Yosuke tries not to look at him, but his gaze drifts of its own volition, taking in Yu’s expression, a mixture of relief and reassurance. God, he thinks. Anyone would be lucky to have you.

“So, um,” Yosuke says, stretching his legs back out, “it’s, like, not a big deal to you, then? That you…you know. That you like guys.”

Yu tilts his head. “What do you mean?”

Yosuke plays with the cord of his headphones, pointedly not looking at Yu. “Well, like, Kanji always gets embarrassed when you try to bring it up with him. But you just…said it. Like it was nothing.”

He can feel Yu’s shrug, the rise and fall of his shoulder against Yosuke’s. “Well, when you put it that way, yeah, you could say I don’t really see it as a huge deal. At least, I don’t think it’s anything to be ashamed of. Even when I first figured it out, my fear was more about how my friends and family would react.”

For reasons Yosuke doesn’t dare to acknowledge, he can’t help but find the notion unimaginable. Being able to just accept a part of himself he’d been conditioned to believe was disgusting and taboo…he’s not sure he could do it.

Yosuke shakes his head in awe. “You’re amazing, dude,” he says. “I mean, I guess if anyone was gonna be casual about something like this, it’d be you, but still.” At this, he makes eye contact. “I’m impressed, that’s all.”

Yu smiles softly. “Thanks, Yosuke,” he says. “Really. That…means a lot, coming from you.”

Yosuke is fairly certain that this is the first time he’s ever caught a glimpse of Yu’s insecurities. Up until now, he was almost convinced Yu didn’t have any. But there was no mistaking that anxiety, not when Yosuke sees it in the mirror more often than not. He was afraid that Yosuke would reject him.

“Now,” Yu says, standing up from the couch, “you wanna help me clean up this mess?” He gestures to the dirty magazines strewn across the room, a playful twinkle in his eyes that lifts the heavy feeling from Yosuke’s shoulders. “The last thing we need is for Dojima or Nanako to see all this.”

Yosuke had suspected from the very start that Yu was something special. Or maybe it’s more like he hoped for it. It was only after he befriended Yu that he realized just how shallow his previous friendships had been. In just a few months’ time, Yu has become someone Yosuke talks to every day, someone he can rely on—someone that, he hopes, can rely on him the same way.

And yet, it’s not until halfway through summer that he realizes just how close they are.

It happens when they venture into the TV to pursue Mitsuo Kubo. Yu isn’t quite his usual self—it’s not obvious, but Yosuke can sense it in the stiffness of his body movements and the strange hardness on his face, almost imperceptibly different from his typical neutral expression. Yosuke wants to ask what’s wrong, but the others keep pushing forward, and he can’t really blame them. They’re all in a rush to apprehend the culprit (if he is, in fact, the culprit), to put an end to the murders once and for all.

I’ll ask him about it later, he decides, but he never gets the chance.

Yu’s strange behavior worsens when the kid’s Shadow attacks. While the rest of the team fights it with everything they have, Yu’s movements are slow and distracted. It’s like something is eating away at him, sapping his will to fight.

Still, Yosuke doesn’t realize just how severe it is until it’s too late, until all he can do is watch in horror as Shadow Mitsuo sucks Yu into itself, past the outer shell, into the darkness of its core.

He barely registers the sound of his own voice screaming Yu’s name.

He has to stop himself from rushing forward on his own, even as his heart beats like a hummingbird straining desperately against its cage. Around him, he hears his friends shouting, just as horrified, just as determined.

Rise’s voice sounds behind him. “If you chip away part of its outer shell, you might be able to pull him out!”

Right. It’s not over yet. And Yu isn’t the type to die so easily.

With everyone’s strength, it’s not long before they manage to knock several blocks off the top. “Jiraiya!” Yosuke calls, and his Persona swoops down and lifts him into the air, carrying him up to the opening they’ve created.

For just a moment as he peers down into the core, his heart—he swears—stops beating.

The Shadow’s true form has its hands wrapped around Yu’s neck. Yu’s body has gone still, like he’s not fighting it—like he can’t fight it. And then there’s his eyes: glazed over. Hopeless. Empty.

“Yu!” Yosuke screams. “Yu!”

There—the faintest glimmer of life as Yu glances up.

Yosuke thrusts his hand down into the darkness. “Give me your hand!”

It feels like a lifetime passes as Yosuke repeats Yu’s name, his throat growing raw, silently begging him, Wake up. Please. I can’t lose you too.

Really, it only takes a few seconds for Yu to regain the strength to reach back. Yosuke doesn’t waste a moment, grasping Yu’s wrist first with one hand, then with both, and pulling with all his might and then some.

When finally Yu’s familiar form appears over the tops of the blocks, Yosuke stumbles backward, dragging Yu with him off the edge. Jiraiya, of course, is there to catch them both as they fall, wrapping them up in its arms to carry them back to the rest of the team.

Yosuke doesn’t think he’s ever been so happy to see Yu’s face, to feel the warmth of Yu’s hand in his. “You okay there, bro?”

The hopeless look from before is gone, replaced by a relieved smile. “Yosuke,” he says, “thank you.”

Of course, Yosuke thinks. That’s what partners are for, right?

“Yosuke.”

They’re sitting together at the Junes food court, just the two of them, when Yu’s voice turns serious all of a sudden. Well, more serious than usual. His expression has barely changed, but Yosuke can tell he’s got something on his mind.

“I…just wanted to thank you again,” Yu says, rubbing the back of his neck. “For the other day.”

Yosuke frowns. “For wha—oh,” he says. “You mean with that Kubo kid’s Shadow?”

He says it casually, but really, the memory of that incident still makes his skin crawl just a little bit. How close Yu was to death. The lifelessness in his eyes. The horror that gripped Yosuke at the possibility of losing someone important to him—all over again—and being powerless to stop it.

“Yeah,” Yu says, his gaze somewhere far away. “If it weren’t for you, I…”

Yosuke blinks, suddenly embarrassed. If it weren’t for me? Someone else could’ve done what he did just as well. He’s not used to being treated like he’s special.

“I-I mean,” he says, fiddling with his headphone cord, “you’ve saved my ass so many times. The least I could do is return the favor for once.”

A faint smile crosses Yu’s lips for a moment, and then it’s gone again. He closes his eyes, tilting his head up to the sky.

“I don’t think you realize,” he says thoughtfully, “what exactly you saved me from.”

Yosuke furrows his brows. “What do you mean? Wasn’t it just a Shadow?”

Yu opens his eyes and leans forward. “Technically, yes. But…I can’t explain it. See, when I was in there…I saw things.”

Now Yosuke’s leaning forward too. He had no idea. He certainly didn’t see anything when he pulled Yu out—nothing but darkness, and the Shadow, and his partner. “Things? Like what?”

Yu stares down at the table. “I suppose you could say I saw my worst fear.”

Yosuke’s whole body freezes. He hadn’t even imagined something like that, but it would make sense. He waits with bated breath for Yu to continue.

“I saw us,” Yu says. “The whole team. Except…we all drifted apart after the case was over.” His expression is troubled. “We didn’t meet up anymore. We barely talked. Until eventually…” He closes his eyes again. “I had no one. I had nothing. I was…empty.”

Yosuke stares at him in awe, speechless as he absorbs Yu’s words.

“You made me remember,” Yu continues, “that I wasn’t alone. So thank you.”

Now Yosuke understands. What he really saved Yu from was hopelessness.

He never would have guessed that they struggle with the same thing: the fear of being alone. Yosuke’s always felt like he was a bit obvious—the way he just approaches people and starts talking without a second thought, blatantly ignoring their exasperation. Desperate for attention, desperate for connection. But Yu has never come off that way—not desperate, not lonely, not weak. He’s cool and composed, whether he’s doing something on his own or at the center of a crowd.

It’s comforting, in a way, to remember that Yu is human, too—to think that even someone like Yosuke could help him, could be important to him.

“Hey,” Yosuke says with a reassuring smile, “I’m glad I could help. But, dude, you should know better,” he adds teasingly. “We’d never just abandon you like that. Sure, it was the cases that brought us together, but we’re friends too.”

Yu smiles softly. “You’re right. I know that now.”

Yosuke grins and crosses his arms over his chest. “Good, ‘cause after everything that’s happened, you’re gonna have a hell of a time trying to get rid of me.”

He expects Yu to tease back, to say something like, Goddammit. I should’ve left you in that trash can. But he just smiles wider and says, “I wouldn’t have it any other way, partner.”

As summer plows onward, Yosuke can sense his relationship with Yu changing, growing deeper. And it’s not just the big moments either—it’s the smaller ones too. It’s things like going to see a movie in Okina City together, where Yosuke focuses his attention as hard as he can on the big screen so his mind doesn’t drift to how close they are, two high schoolers sitting near the back of a movie theater. It’s things like playing games at the summer festival, watching Yu’s serious expression in amusement, or eating watermelon with everyone at the Dojima residence.

It’s things like going to the beach on a sunny afternoon, just the two of them, a casual outing rather than the all-day event that their previous beach day had been. Yosuke loves the group they’ve formed, but they can be a lot to handle sometimes. It’s nice to be here with just Yu, and he says as much once they reach the shore, the sun’s rays warming their shoulders.

Yosuke has seen Yu shirtless before, and he’s always managed to avoid looking for too long. This time, though, there aren’t any girls in swimsuits close enough for him to distract himself with. And the thing about the case being closed—fortunate as it may be—is that he doesn’t have that mystery to distract him either. Now he has to make his own distractions, or else he’ll end up staring for longer than he should, thinking about their differences in physique—how Yu’s shoulders are more broad and his torso more firm, a clear hint of muscle that contrasts with Yosuke’s lankier frame.

Before, it was much easier for him to ignore the way he feels when he’s around Yu: a warmth that blooms in his chest, like a hearth. Yu makes his mind and heart speed up sometimes—late at night when he’s trying to fall asleep, and he can’t stop imagining things he shouldn’t be imagining—but he also slows Yosuke down. When he talks with Yu, every confused, racing, jumbled-up thought of his clicks into place.

Yosuke rushes into the ocean so he doesn’t have to dwell on it any longer, and Yu follows suit, their laughter nearly drowned out by the sound of the waves crashing against them. Here, with no one around who knows him except Yu, he doesn’t have to worry about making a fool of himself. For now, the self-conscious voice in his head can take a backseat.

When the sun starts to set, they get out of the water and dry off by the vending machines, leaning over the railing and staring out at the horizon while the summer breeze ruffles their hair. Out here, Yosuke doesn’t have to deal with slacking part-timers or snarky comments about the “Prince of Junes.” He doesn’t feel weighed down by others’ expectations, doesn’t feel like he has to perform for a school full of people who think he’s a loser anyway. He can just be.

When he breaks out of his reverie, he notices Yu staring at him, his expression fond. Yosuke blinks. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Yu smiles and shrugs. “You just looked…peaceful, that’s all.”

There’s that warmth again, swelling inside him. He cracks a smile. “Peaceful, huh?” he repeats, gazing at the orange sky. “Yeah, you could say that.”

And it’s all because of you, partner.

It doesn’t last, of course. Just as surely as the leaves turn red and the days grow shorter, trouble returns to Inaba—or perhaps it never really left. Because then Naoto Shirogane disappears into the TV, proving that the case isn’t over after all, that the real killer is still out there somewhere.

And the shameful part is this: as alarming as it is to learn that the town still isn’t safe, there’s a little piece of Yosuke that’s…almost excited about it. Maybe he knew something was off all along; maybe he’s glad that they didn’t just accept the outcome as the truth, that they’re still working on finding the real one. But Yosuke knows deep down that that’s not what it really is. The reason isn’t nearly so selfless.

The real reason is that it gives him something to focus on, something that makes him feel useful. When he’s preoccupied with fighting Shadows, with analyzing potential suspects or motives, he feels like he’s actually doing something worthwhile. It gives him a reason to keep going.

Without the cases, without his Persona…who is he, really?

He’s terrified of the answer. But he thinks he’s going to find it whether he likes it or not.

The trigger, he thinks, is those part-timers. He thought he could take them gossiping about Saki and her past. He brushed it off, convinced himself that it didn’t matter what they said, that they never really knew Saki, never made an effort to sympathize with her or understand her. But then they start badmouthing her to his face.

He doesn’t plan on biting back, not at first. Let them mock him for his unrequited feelings—he’s known for months now that Saki never really liked him. But then they start bashing her character, enough that even Yu stands up for her. Maybe that’s what emboldens him. Maybe he does have a right to be angry.

And so, something inside of Yosuke—something that’s been bubbling for a long time, something he’s tried so hard to ignore—snaps.

The words come out faster than he can think them through, and he doesn’t realize just how pathetic they sound until they’re hanging in the air around them. She’s not here anymore! I’m left behind!

Yu’s hand on his shoulder is warm and firm. “You were just upset,” he says, but it’s not quite enough to untie the knot in Yosuke’s gut.

Yosuke shakes his head and tries to smile, but it’s a sad, wobbly little thing. It would’ve been less pitiful if he just hadn’t tried to smile at all.

The incident eats at him for days. Not because of the part-timers, but because of what it’s made him realize.

Saki’s gone.

He knew that, of course. He saw the news. He’s watched the fallout. She’s been gone. But having finally said it out loud—she’s not here anymore—it feels like he’s unlocked something deep within his heart. It’s finally setting in that she’s really never coming back.

He talks to Yu again at the Samegawa riverbank. Everything inside of him feels heavy. But he knows he can’t ignore this any longer.

He thinks it’s the first time he’s cried since Saki‘s death. And he’s pretty damn sure it’s the first time he’s actually allowed himself to feel his own grief, to let the weight of it finally wash over him. Yu looks like he’s not quite sure what to do, but he watches and waits patiently, his gaze sad and sympathetic.

As the tears stream down his cheeks, Yosuke explains his epiphany: how he’s thrown himself headfirst into investigating the murders because it made him forget about his problems. How all he’s been doing is running away from his own sorrow. How without the cases, without his Persona, he’s nothing special at all.

And just like with Yosuke’s Shadow—just like with everything—Yu listens with a calm expression, not judging, just absorbing Yosuke’s words and commenting when needed.

When it finally feels like he’s gotten everything he needed to say off his chest, Yosuke wipes at his eyes. “Yu,” he says softly, “I think I’m all cried out.”

For a moment, Yu looks like he’s considering something. Then he does the most unexpected thing: he steps forward and wraps his arms around Yosuke.

Yosuke’s whole body stiffens at the touch, at the intimacy of it. The warmth. The silent understanding. He can’t remember the last time someone hugged him, really hugged him.

“You dumbass,” he says, the defense mechanism kicking in, but it’s a halfhearted protest as his eyes start to burn again. “That’s for girls…”

His voice cracks as he says it. He squeezes his eyes shut, but all that does is push out more tears. His heart is in his throat.

There’s nothing he can do but give in.

Leaning forward, Yosuke buries his face in Yu’s shoulder, feeling the hot tears seep into Yu’s school jacket. He tries to keep his mouth closed and breathe through his nose, but it’s no use; a few more choking sobs come gasping out. His fingers fumble until they find Yu’s sleeves, and he grasps the fabric so tight his hands cramp. “It hurts, dammit.”

Yu just hugs him tighter. “I know,” he says. “I know.”

They stand there like that for a long time, until the tears finally slow down again, until Yosuke finally feels like he can breathe—but even then, he doesn’t pull away immediately. For a few moments, he just relaxes his body and lets himself be held.

“Yu,” he says softly, taking a step back, “thank you.”

Yu nods and lets go of Yosuke, his lips turning upward just slightly. “It’s nothing,” he replies. “I’m glad I could be there for you.”

Yosuke gives him a crooked smile. Now that he’s calmed down, there’s a small part of him that’s embarrassed. He probably looks like a mess. He can picture it now, his face all red and splotchy, his eyes puffy, snot running from his nose—real attractive.

“Well,” he says awkwardly, shifting from one foot to the other, “I should…probably get going.”

Yu nods again. “Of course. I’ll walk you home.”

Yosuke’s heart skips a little beat. It’s not like they haven’t walked home together before, but it feels weird when Yu says it like that, like they’re dating or something.

And yet—he appreciates it. He’s not sure he’d want to walk home alone today. “Y-yeah.”

As they head for the stairs leading up from the riverbank, Yosuke puts his hands behind his head. “You gotta watch your wording, though, dude,” he teases. “You say things like that, and people’ll start to think we’re dating.”

“Huh? They will?”

Maybe it’s the delivery, or the expression on Yu’s face—so serious, so genuinely confused. Maybe it’s the lightness Yosuke feels in his chest, like a burden has lifted from his shoulders. Maybe it’s a mixture of both. Whatever the reason, Yosuke finds he can’t help but burst into laughter.

He looks at Yu differently after that—or maybe it’s just that he actually starts to notice his own behavior. How he crowds under Yu’s umbrella without hesitation when it’s raining. How he leans forward in his desk during class to whisper something snarky into Yu’s ear. How his gaze lingers on certain areas of Yu’s body. How after a long day of school and then work, all he wants to do is call Yu, even if it’s just to complain, even if it’s just to hear Yu’s voice. It’s as if he’s opened the floodgates, releasing emotions he didn’t even realize he was repressing.

“There’s still nothing here,” he tells Yu one day as they stare out at the town from the nearby hill. “But I have family and friends…and you.”

He feels like he has to separate Yu from the rest, like he’s different somehow—not quite family, more than just a friend. And he means it, all of it: he doesn’t hate Inaba anymore. And he doesn’t feel alone anymore either. He doesn’t feel the need to grasp at cheap thrills just to feel something. He has people who are special to him, people like Yu, and he says just as much.

“You’re special to me, too, Yosuke,” Yu says, resting his arms against the wooden railing, a gentle smile on his face, and that familiar warmth blooms in Yosuke’s chest once again.

He replays those words in his mind all night long. It’s such a simple phrase, so why does it make his blood rush to his cheeks?

He doesn’t understand what’s gotten into him—or maybe he just doesn’t want to understand. Maybe—once again—he’s afraid of what he’ll find if he looks too hard.

The only solution, Yosuke decides, is to wait and see if the feeling goes away, the feeling he doesn’t dare to name or explore. Still, he can’t help but notice the little things, things he took for granted before—things like their casual touches, how Yu’s hand brushes against Yosuke’s for just a moment, how their shoulders press against each other. But Yu’s expression is as neutral as ever; if he senses a difference in Yosuke’s demeanor, he doesn’t let on.

Then the Culture Festival happens.

Yosuke was already starting to regret suggesting the “group date cafe” idea, but it’s even more embarrassing when no one shows up, and their only idea for reeling in participants is to have a “group date” of their own. At worst, it’s a recipe for disaster, but it’s not like they have any better ideas.

Of course, there just so happens to be a gender disparity, and of course, it’s Yu who volunteers to sit on the girls’ side. Maybe it would’ve been funny how utterly nonchalant he is, softening his voice to sound more feminine, always taking everything completely seriously, no matter how ridiculous. But they’re in dangerous territory here, and Yosuke can only deflect by teasing Kanji or flirting halfheartedly for so long before his mind, inevitably, goes somewhere that it definitely, definitely shouldn’t.

He only realizes what he’s done after the words are out of his mouth. Really, he was just trying to come up with a relevant question. After all, isn’t this how they’d outlined it? That at the end of the date, each person would say who they’d want to go out with? He doesn’t actually expect any of them to answer seriously. And yet—as Chie and Yukiko deflect, Yosuke’s attention shifts, as it always does, back to Yu, who has yet to say anything on the subject.

When their gazes meet, Yosuke’s world slows down and his heart speeds up, his mind a jumbled mess of conflicting thoughts and images. He wants to run and hide. He wants to spill everything. He wants—he just wants.

He realizes, even as he jumps from his chair, his face hot, that he’s probably overreacting. Everyone is staring at him like they have absolutely no idea what he’s reacting to, like they’ve missed something important. Hell, Yu didn’t even say anything—all he did was make eye contact. But something’s been building up inside Yosuke for longer than he’s willing to admit, and he can’t let it come to a head. He can’t let himself go there.

Of course, he already has. He can’t go back now—that opportunity passed a long time ago.

It’s only after Yu is out of the room—exploring the rest of the festival, maybe hanging out with a girl—that Chie, sprawled out in her chair, says, “Hey, Yosuke, what was that all about?”

Yosuke, still finishing up the last remnants of takeout, tries not to look alarmed, the food giving him an excuse to pause before answering. “What was what all about?”

“You know.” Chie waves a hand, seemingly indifferent, but Yosuke knows better. “Just now, when you got all freaked out for no reason and started digging around for a cold drink.”

“Oh yeah,” Kanji pipes up. “I was wonderin’ about that too.”

Yosuke’s face is still warm, due in no small part to both Yu and the steam that had wafted from their bowls, and he rubs his nose in an attempt to hide part of it. “I—well, I mean—you don’t really wanna know that, do you? It might be, uh, a little too much information.”

Yukiko looks up from her food and tilts her head. “What? Why?”

Yosuke could crawl into a hole and die. “B-because! Sometimes you don’t need to know everything that goes through a person’s head, you know?”

“Normally you have no problem sharing everything that pops into your head,” Chie says, raising an eyebrow. Oh, she knows something’s up.

Yosuke scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t share everything! And why’s everyone so focused on me, anyway?”

Chie holds her hands up placatingly. “Well, when you make such a big deal about it, people are bound to be a little curious, that’s all. Even Yu seemed kinda concerned there. Y’know, by Yu standards.”

That part is true, at least—though he continued playing along with his “role” for a little while longer, Yu’s gaze drifted frequently to Yosuke throughout the meal, his expression pensive, like he wanted to say something but didn’t know what. Yosuke, of course, avoided his eyes, afraid that if they exchanged glances again, it would be all over for him.

Oh, this is bad. This is very, very bad.

“Forget it,” Kanji says, leaning back in his chair. “If he doesn’t wanna talk about it, he doesn’t wanna talk about it. There are some things a man’s gotta keep to himself, right?”

“Y-yeah!” Yosuke agrees, grateful for an excuse to latch onto. He’ll have to thank Kanji later. “Exactly!”

“Alright, alright,” Chie says, standing up and stretching her arms over her head. “Well, since it’s clear nobody’s coming, how about we check out the rest of the festival? I hear there’s some sorta fortune teller.”

Yosuke breathes out a small sigh of relief at the change in subject, but he wouldn’t be surprised if Chie still has her suspicions. And now he knows that it isn’t just in his head, no matter how hard he tries to pretend that it was all a fluke. He’s been having thoughts like these since April. Besides, hasn’t he learned by now that it’s bad to run away from himself? That it’s better to face the truth, no matter how painful or frightening it might be?

The truth, Yosuke knows, is this:

He’s not straight. And he’s in love with his best friend.

Yosuke doesn’t get much time to deal with his personal crisis, though, because shortly after the Culture Festival, a much bigger crisis descends upon them: Nanako disappears into the TV.

Yosuke’s mind goes into overdrive, everything in him focused on being there for Yu. He’s worried about Nanako, of course, but more than anything, he knows just how much she means to Yu. They practically have to hold him back from entering the TV in Namatame’s truck, his voice breaking with desperation.

Even after it’s all said and done, with Nanako and Namatame both hospitalized due to the effects of the TV World, it still doesn’t quite feel like it’s over, and Yu, understandably, doesn’t return entirely to his usual self. He visits Nanako and Dojima in the hospital for days and days in a row, with or without the rest of the group, even though Nanako is only able to stay awake for a few minutes at a time. Yosuke can’t blame him.

So he puts his own feelings on the backburner for a little while. Yu has enough to deal with, and besides, Yosuke still hasn’t figured out what to do about what he feels. Frankly, he’s terrified. He loves Inaba now, but he knows there are still people who hate him and his family, and the last thing he wants is to give those people a reason to hate them even more. If it were just him, he wouldn’t be so concerned—he has people who are important to him now, and as long as he has them, he can deal with whatever vitriol might be thrown his way—but he doesn’t want his family to suffer due to his reputation.

Of course, maybe that’s also just an excuse. Maybe he’s more terrified of losing Yu’s friendship, of being rejected—because even though Yu likes guys, why on earth would he feel the same way about Yosuke, of all people?

Or maybe he’s just terrified of what it means for himself, a fact that he’s suspected deep down for a long time, but was never brave enough to examine. You’re a guy who likes guys. You’re not normal. You’re a freak. There’s something wrong with you. Maybe that’s part of why he feels the need to talk so much about girls, like he’s got something to prove.

It doesn’t really matter what the reason is, though, because he sure as hell isn’t going to tell anyone about it. Not yet, at least.

Yu’s place feels empty without Nanako or Dojima. Sure, Dojima was often gone due to work, and Nanako would sometimes leave to play with her friends, but there was always evidence of their presence—things like the buzz of the television or a newspaper open on the table. With both of them still hospitalized, the house holds an air of melancholy.

On days like these, he and Yu don’t talk quite as much. It feels wrong for Yosuke to try to fill up the silence with small talk. Still, it never feels awkward. Sometimes they sit at the table and study for the exams coming up at the end of the month—or rather, Yu studies, and Yosuke complains and asks questions while Yu’s lips quirk up in amusement. Or sometimes, like today, they go upstairs to watch a movie on the couch in Yu’s room.

Neither of them pay too much attention to it, though. Yu looks like he hasn’t been getting enough sleep, and before long, he’s starting to nod off, absently resting his head against Yosuke’s shoulder.

Yosuke’s heart speeds up a little at the touch, but he doesn’t shy away from it. Instead, he wraps an arm around Yu’s shoulders, a gesture he barely even thinks about because it feels so natural.

“Yosuke,” Yu murmurs, his eyes half-open.

Yosuke starts, suddenly fully aware of their closeness, terrified that he’s crossed a boundary, that he’s ruined everything. “Yeah?”

“Thank you,” Yu says. “For…for being here.”

Yosuke breathes out a quiet sigh of relief, his face warm. “Anytime, partner.”

In October, Yu was the one who held Yosuke while he cried.

When Nanako dies, it’s time for Yosuke to return the favor.

It doesn’t matter that they’ve just had their worst fight to date, that in the darkness of that room, Yosuke’s blood boiled with rage that clouded every other thought. It doesn’t matter that he’s the one who pushed the hardest for throwing Namatame into the TV, and it doesn’t matter that there’s still a small part of him that wishes they’d done it.

None of that matters right now, because Yu needs him.

He can see it in the lifeless expression on Yu’s face, can hear it in the flatness of his voice. He says he’ll be fine, but Yosuke doesn’t believe it for a minute. He knows Yu far too well by now.

Even as Yosuke walks away, feeling the snowflakes sticking to his hair and clothes, he knows he’s not going home, not yet. When he turns the corner, it’s only so he can stop and glance over his shoulder at the hospital entrance, watching everyone else slowly disperse until it’s only Yu, standing alone, staring forlornly up at the sky.

Yu doesn’t seem to notice him approaching at first. When their gazes finally meet, they’re far enough away from each other that Yosuke can’t see the tears, but he can hear them in the brokenness of Yu’s voice as he asks for reassurance that Yosuke can’t give. They both know that Yu needs to find that answer for himself.

So Yosuke doesn’t say anything. There’s nothing he could possibly say that would do justice to what Yu feels. Instead, he takes slow, deliberate steps, a few tears of his own welling up in his eyes as he stands next to Yu, a silent offer: I’m here. You can lean on me.

It takes a few moments of broken sobbing before Yu gives in and buries his face in Yosuke’s shoulder. Yosuke grabs hold of his shaking form, first with one hand, then with both. His heart feels like it’s made of lead with how heavy it is, watching his best friend, his partner, fall apart like this.

There, alone in the fog and the cold, Yosuke holds him close as he weeps openly. He wishes he could do more, but for now, it’ll have to be enough just to be there when Yu needs him, to be someone Yu can rely on. If nothing else, at least he knows he can do that.

Yosuke stands with his arms crossed in the Junes electronics section, his eyes glued to the TV they always use. It probably looks like he’s just loafing around doing nothing, but it’s almost closing time, so there aren’t a ton of customers anyway. Besides, if anyone bothered to look close enough, they’d be able to see the tension in his jaw, the way his balance shifts anxiously from one foot to the other.

What the hell is he thinking?

The past few days have been a whirlwind. Nanako miraculously recovered, the true culprit turned out to be Adachi, and Inaba is supposed to be swallowed by fog by the end of the year. And now Yu has gone into the TV—alone. Without telling anyone.

They never go in alone. Even if it’s just to whack a few shadows and polish up their skills, they always do it together. Now there’s a fucking serial killer inside the TV, and Yu’s decided to go after him by himself. Is he planning on defeating Adachi alone? Does he really think he’d be able to?

Does he think he doesn’t need the rest of them anymore?

Yosuke’s fingernails dig into the fabric of his jacket. No, that’s not true. Yu might be stronger and smarter, might be everything Yosuke wishes he was, but he wouldn’t abandon them like that. He cares about them just as much as they care about him.

There’s a part of Yosuke that wants to jump into the TV himself and track Yu down, but he knows that wouldn’t be wise. All he can do is wait for Yu to return—because he will return. He has to.

Still, as the minutes tick by, Yosuke’s nervous energy spills into his body, so much that he starts pacing back and forth in the electronics section, straightening items that don’t need to be straightened, glancing at the TV every few seconds for any ripple of movement. He knew Yu would do this, but that doesn’t make it much easier when his mind wants so badly to run wild with worst-case scenarios.

His head snaps up at the sound of a pair of shoes hitting the floor. Sure enough, crouched on the ground is Yu, alive and unharmed, the TV still rippling behind him as he pulls himself up to his feet.

“Welcome back,” Yosuke says casually, making sure not to let any hint of his nervous energy slip through the cracks as he approaches.

Yu starts at the sound of his voice, though he seems to relax a little when his gaze lands on Yosuke.

“I told you not to go alone,” Yosuke says, folding his arms over his chest. He tries to keep his tone light, a friendly admonition. “Though I knew you would anyway.”

Yu glances away. “Sorry.”

Yosuke waves a hand. “It’s okay,” he says. “I understand.” And he thinks he does, to an extent.

“I’ll keep it a secret from the others,” he continues, “and I won’t ask about Adachi for now.”

At that, Yu seems to breathe the smallest sigh of relief.

Yosuke rubs his forehead with his hand, finally letting some of his emotions seep through. “But come on. You should trust us more.”

Something about saying it out loud makes it hurt more. He can feel his mouth turning just slightly downward without his permission, and he stares pointedly at the floor.

“I—I’m sorry,” Yu says, taking a step forward. “Really. It’s not that I don’t trust you guys. I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

God, he’s so sincere. Yosuke fidgets. “I mean, what really matters is that you’re safe.” He glances back up. “And it’s closing time anyway.”

He means it as a goodbye, but Yu doesn’t budge. When Yosuke starts to walk away, Yu trails behind him. “I’ll wait for you at the west entrance.” He doesn’t appear to be taking no for an answer.

When Yosuke reaches the Junes west entrance about fifteen minutes later, Yu is standing there by the window like he promised, a thoughtful expression on his face. He doesn’t say anything when Yosuke approaches; he just opens the front door for them both, leading them out into the cold, foggy air.

It’s only when the door slams shut behind them that Yu speaks. “I thought I could talk some sense into him.”

Yosuke shivers, pulling his coat tighter around himself as they start down the street toward their houses. “I’m guessing that didn’t work so well.”

Yu sighs, his gaze focused on the ground in front of them. “Of course it didn’t. It was stupid to even try.”

“I don’t think so,” Yosuke says, and it’s true. He can see how much Yu wanted to believe there was still some good in Adachi that he could appeal to. That kindness, that willingness to give people the benefit of the doubt, has to be worth something.

“I just…” Yu runs a hand through his hair. “I thought we were…I don’t know, friends or something. He’d eat dinner with us, show magic tricks to Nanako…” He shrugs. “But he was right. That Adachi never existed. I just wanted to believe he did.”

Despite the freezing cold, Yosuke reaches out and rests a hand on Yu’s arm. “I’m really sorry, partner.”

Yu waves dismissively, though he doesn’t push Yosuke away. “Don’t be. I should have told you what I was doing, at least. I just…didn’t want you to worry. But I guess you did anyway.”

Embarrassed, Yosuke cups his hands over his mouth and breathes out to warm them, giving him an excuse not to respond right away. “You idiot,” he says finally, shaking his head. “I work there. Did you really think I wouldn’t notice?”

Yu blushes—he actually blushes. “Yeah, I guess that wasn’t my best idea, was it?”

“No, it wasn’t,” Yosuke agrees, but he’s smiling.

It feels strange to slip back into ordinary life, to prepare for the holidays as if they didn’t just apprehend a killer. That by itself would be enough to rattle someone, and it doesn’t even begin to cover everything else that happened. Most people don’t even know about the TV World or the sort of danger Inaba was in. All they know—all they’ll ever need to know—is that one day, the thick fog shrouding the town suddenly dissipated and never returned.

Maybe a year ago, Yosuke would’ve been disappointed that their investigation has come to an end, that no one sees him as a hero. But not anymore. Now, he’s just glad that the town is safe—that his friends are safe.

A few days after Adachi’s arrest, Yosuke brings Yu to the riverbank again. This time, though, it’s to admit something that he needs to acknowledge in order to move forward: that some part of him has always been a little bit jealous of Yu, and he can’t go on like that.

It’s always been there, deep down. He knows this now that he’s actually had the opportunity to sit down and think about it. All this time, he’s been comparing himself to Yu and finding himself lacking. It was like if he gained Yu’s approval, if he was worth something in Yu’s eyes, it would make him feel less inferior. Because Yu really is special to him, and maybe he wanted to be special to Yu, too.

He’s aware, of course, that one fistfight isn’t going to solve everything. It’ll take time. He’ll have to learn to catch himself when the doubts creep in. But he’s taking a step forward.

(After all, he’s never been good at sitting still.)

He still remembers the terror that gripped his heart during that last battle when he realized Yu was in danger, mere moments away from being absorbed by Ameno-Sagiri. He remembers the way it felt when his Persona pulled Yu free and clutched him to its chest—as if he were the one doing it, holding Yu, protecting him. He remembers that warmth. He remembers never wanting to let it go.

Now that he thinks about it, it’s the second time he’s saved Yu from the brink of death. And then there’s all the little moments in between, when Yosuke was there to comfort him, to reassure him, to just be someone Yu could lean on. Maybe, he thinks, we’re more equal than I thought.

In the aftermath, as they lie on the cold ground, bruised and breathing hard, the winter sky stretching endlessly above them, Yosuke’s resolve is firmer than it’s ever been. He’s going to live his life without deceiving himself, without hiding from his own feelings. He’s going to live with his eyes wide open.

He knows it’s a frightening promise to make. He’s spent the past year confronting every lie he’s ever told himself, every time he’s ever tried to convince himself he was okay when he wasn’t. But he’s not the only one—they’ve all had to face themselves. They all decided that it’s better to learn to swallow painful truths than live in blissful ignorance.

So he’s going to do it again. As many times as it takes.

Despite the sudden roach infestation at the Hanamura house, the holidays this year are, all things considered, some of the best he can remember ever having. Maybe it’s because they’ve all been through so much over the past year, and it makes him more thankful for the good times. Maybe it’s because this year, he actually has a group of friends who like him for who he is, friends he can talk to about serious things, not just celebrities or the weather. Friends he would still talk to if one of them ever moved away.

He’s been so caught up in solving the case that he almost forgot about Yu moving back to the city in March. Perhaps he’s just gotten so used to Yu’s presence that it’s difficult to picture Inaba without him, or maybe he’s just trying to focus on enjoying the present rather than being sad about a future he can’t change. He knows he and Yu will still keep in touch, and maybe they’ll even get to visit each other. But there’s one little thing that’s going to gnaw at him if he doesn’t do anything about it before then.

Maybe on the ski trip, he tells himself—but then Yu gets sick.

“It happened last night,” Teddie says over the phone. “We’d just finished unpacking my things when he collapsed.”

“Last night?” Yosuke repeats, already grabbing a coat. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“I was a little busy,” Teddie replies. “He was really bear-ning up. But I got it all under control!”

Yosuke snorts and slips on his shoes. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

Teddie gasps in mock offense. “Yosuke! Don’t you trust me? After all we’ve been through together?”

“I don’t think you want me to answer that.”

Still, the familiar banter loosens something in his chest as he hops on his scooter and heads off toward Yu’s place. He’s not sure if Teddie’s doing it on purpose, but he’s grateful regardless—not that he’ll ever admit it. Besides, he is glad that Teddie happened to be there; it would’ve been much worse if Yu had been alone when he got sick.

When he arrives at the Dojima residence, he finds Yu lying down in the living room, tucked into the kotatsu. He appears to be asleep, but there’s a slightly pained expression on his face.

“I’ve been checking his temperature regularly,” Teddie says, puffing his chest proudly. “I even got him a cold pillow!”

Yosuke sits down on the floor and reaches a hand out to brush Yu’s bangs out of the way. Unsurprisingly, his forehead is hot, but Teddie does seem to have been taking care of him.

“Alright, bear, I admit it,” he says without taking his eyes off of Yu. “You did good.”

Teddie jumps up and down. “Oh, I’m so glad! I’m gonna take good care of him, don’t you worry, Yosuke!”

“I’m not—” Yosuke starts, but the sound of the doorbell stops him from having to finish his lie. Of course he’s worried. He’s not fooling anyone.

As Teddie jumps up to answer the door for Chie and Yukiko, Yu stirs in his sleep. A weak groan escapes his lips. “Yosuke…”

Yosuke’s heart stutters a little. Maybe Yu heard his voice.

“I’m here,” Yosuke whispers. He almost reaches out to take Yu’s hand underneath the blanket, but he can hear the others coming into the living room.

“No,” Yu mutters, turning his head away. “Yosuke, don’t eat that, it has tofu in it…”

Yosuke covers his face with one hand and laughs softly. Yu must be dreaming.

Dreaming about him, Yosuke realizes. Not that that means anything. People dream about each other all the time. Hell, Yosuke’s pretty sure King Moron has shown up in his dreams once or twice. Still, he can feel his cheeks starting to warm up just a little.

Luckily, Chie and Yukiko have since joined him in the living room, concerned expressions on their faces. If either of them notice anything strange about Yosuke’s demeanor, they don’t comment on it.

They agree that it appears to just be a bad cold—Yu did seem to be running around all day on New Years, so it was probably prolonged exposure to the low temperatures that did it—and decide to postpone the ski trip until a later date. Yu fades in and out of consciousness as they chat around him, discussing how they spent their holidays or their wishes for the new year.

They don’t spend the whole day there, though—it’s probably not smart to be so close to a sick person for a long period of time, and even though there’s no school, they still have their own responsibilities. Besides, Teddie does seem to have things under control, surprisingly enough.

Despite all of this, Yosuke can’t quite bring himself to leave, even after both Chie and Yukiko are gone. It’s like he’s waiting for something, but he doesn’t know what. He even ends up lying down next to Yu, his legs partially covered by blankets.

It’s only when Teddie leaves the room to grab a few things that Yosuke registers how close they are, how easy it would be for him to wrap an arm around Yu’s sweating, shivering form. How easy it would be to hold him—for real this time, not just through his Persona.

Though he’s been groaning on and off all day, Yu’s expression appears to have relaxed a bit, his breathing slow and even. Yosuke’s gaze traces the shape of his face, from his closed eyes to his nose, his cheeks, and finally lingering at his lips. Not for the first time, Yosuke wonders what they’d feel like against his.

He doesn’t plan it. He doesn’t go through the pros and cons in his mind. He doesn’t think about whether or not he’ll get sick, and he doesn’t do it because he’s trying to take advantage of Yu’s situation.

He doesn’t think about it at all. He just does it. He leans over and kisses Yu on the lips.

It only lasts a few seconds, that softness, the quiet in-and-out of their breathing, both of them entirely motionless until Yosuke pulls away, his heart pounding as he realizes what he’s just done.

He kissed Yu Narukami. He kissed his best friend.

Yu fidgets a little, and for a moment, Yosuke is certain that he’s waking up. I’m sorry, Yosuke thinks frantically. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’ll never do anything like that again, I don’t know what’s gotten into me—

But then Yu sighs and rolls over, settling back into slumber, and Yosuke lets out the breath he’d been holding. It doesn’t do much to loosen the tightness in his chest, though, because now he’s really done it. He’s gone somewhere he can never go back from, and it’s his responsibility to deal with wherever it takes him.

It’s only as Yosuke starts to sit up that he spots Teddie standing at the bottom of the staircase, clutching supplies to his chest and staring, his eyes round.

Yosuke leaps up to his feet. It takes everything in him not to yell. “Teddie!” he stage-whispers in a high-pitched voice.

“Yosuke!” Teddie replies in a similar tone.

“How much did you see?” Yosuke asks, covering his face with both hands.

“You…you smooched Sensei,” Teddie blurts. For once in his life, he seems to be at a loss for words.

Yosuke groans. “Don’t call it that,” he says, finally daring to glance back up. “But yeah. I did.” He points a threatening finger. “And if he doesn’t remember, don’t you dare tell him.”

At this, Teddie regains a little bit of his usual mischief. “How scandalous!” he says. “A secret smooch!”

“I’m serious, bear,” Yosuke snaps, grabbing at his hair with both hands. “It’s—it’s not like that. I’ll tell him myself if he doesn’t remember. I could never keep something like that from him anyway.” And even if he tried, he’d feel horrible about it.

Teddie cocks his head. The playfulness is gone. “And then what, Yosuke?”

Yosuke’s shoulders slump. He drops his hands to his sides. “I don’t know.” He hates me forever, maybe. “But I’ll figure it out, okay? Just…please don’t say anything until then.”

He’s so used to bickering with Teddie that he half-expects to have to bargain for the bear’s silence. He’s fully prepared to promise a year’s supply of Topsicles when Teddie finally says, “Alright, Yosuke. I’ll keep your secret. But you have to let me tell Chie I won the bet.”

Yosuke rubs his forehead, so relieved that he only half-registers Teddie’s words. “Yeah, yeah, sure, whatever—wait, what?”

Teddie snickers, swinging his legs beneath the chair like a little kid. No wonder he was acting so weird—he’s been holding back his glee the whole time. “Chie and I made a bet on whether or not you would make a move before Sensei returned to the city,” he says proudly. “I was on Team Yosuke. Chie thought you were too chicken.”

Yosuke just sputters helplessly. He doesn’t think he even wants to know when or why they came up with this, or how they’d planned on keeping track, nor does he want to know when they started suspecting something was up.

“You know what? Fine,” he says as he heads for the front door. “But don’t tell anyone else, got it?”

“You have my word!” Teddie calls from the kitchen. “Bear’s honor!”

Sure enough, almost as soon as Yosuke gets home, Chie calls him. He doesn’t even manage to get out a full “hello” before her voice cuts in.

“YOU KISSED HIM WHILE HE WAS ASLEEP?” she bellows, so loud that Yosuke cringes at the damage to his eardrum and holds his phone out in front of him. “You tool! That doesn’t count!”

“Tell that to Ted, not me,” Yosuke says, tentatively putting the phone back up to his ear and flopping onto the couch in his room.

“I did,” Chie replies tersely. “I just—you wasted your first kiss on someone who couldn’t even kiss back? Are you an idiot? Not to mention he’s sick!” She doesn’t sound mad anymore, though—just shocked and trying to hide it.

“Hey, you don’t know it was my first kiss!” Yosuke protests. “And didn’t you just say it didn’t count?”

“Oh, so it wasn’t your first kiss, then?”

Yosuke scowls, though he knows she can’t see it. “I—alright, fine.”

Besides, it’s not like she’s wrong. Loath as he is to admit it, he’s never had a “real” kiss, or a “real” relationship, and no amount of acting cool or flirtatious has ever been able to completely hide his inexperience.

Chie sighs. “So…what are you going to do now?”

Yosuke groans and glances up at the ceiling. “I don’t know, okay? I’m not doing anything until he gets better first. Then…” He cringes as the thought starts to sink in. “I tell him, I guess.”

It feels so strange to have other people be aware of these feelings, the ones he’s kept locked up and hidden away even from himself. Maybe he’s been obvious all this time and just refused to see it, but it’s a whole different beast to be able to willingly admit it out loud, to allow others to know what he’s been terrified to accept.

Chie seems to sense his embarrassment. “I-I mean, I’m sure it’ll be fine! Even if it turns out he doesn’t feel the same way, it’s not like he’s gonna hate you or anything, y’know?”

“That’s not really the problem,” Yosuke says before he can think about it. Yes, he is a little terrified of Yu’s reaction, but he knows it goes deeper than that. More than anything else, it’s about shame.

“Oh.” For once, Chie seems to be choosing her words carefully. “I mean—you know you’re not alone, right? You have friends who have been through this kind of thing too. Even I…”

Yosuke raises his eyebrows. “Even you?” He saw her Shadow, of course. He knows she struggled with her self-worth, that part of her liked when Yukiko relied on her because it made her feel like she had value. Still, she’s always seemed so strong. She says exactly what she thinks without worrying about how others will view her.

Chie huffs. “Well, you know what people say! ‘Be more ladylike, Chie, or people’ll think you’re a lesbian.’ So what if I am, huh? It’s hard to face that aspect of yourself when everyone around you treats it like a dirty word. So I get it.”

For a long moment, Yosuke doesn’t know how to respond. He’d suspected, of course, but it’s jarring to actually hear her say it, and so plainly, too. He’s reminded of when Yu came out to him, how he spoke so casually, or when Naoto told them to keep referring to him as a guy, his voice firm and decisive.

What will it take for Yosuke to get to that point? When will he be able to say it with his head held high?

“Oh,” he says. “I’m sorry, I…I didn’t realize.” He grimaces and covers his forehead with one hand. He’s probably made his own share of comments about the way she chooses to present herself. “And I—I’m sorry if…if anything I’ve said has ever made you feel like that.”

Chie doesn’t say anything at first. When she speaks, her voice is quieter than usual. “Thanks.”

It’s silent for a few seconds. Then Chie clears her throat. “A-anyway! I was just saying that, y’know, you can talk to us about this. Any of us. If—if you need to.”

Yosuke cracks a smile. Some of his anxiety has dissipated; he feels like he can breathe a little easier. “Thanks, Chie. Really.”

Fortunately, despite having kissed a sick person directly on the mouth, Yosuke doesn’t seem to catch Yu’s cold, but he takes quite a few precautions just in case. It’s only a few days later, when he’s certain that he’s managed to dodge the bullet, that he contacts Naoto and asks to meet up at the Samegawa flood plain.

He doesn’t actually know what he’s going to say when he gets there. All he knows is that he has to talk to someone else about this.

Naoto is already at the picnic table when Yosuke arrives. “Er, sorry,” Yosuke says with an awkward wave, sitting down across from him. “Was I late? I thought I left early enough…”

Naoto shakes his head. “No, not at all. I simply happened to arrive a few minutes early.” He raises an eyebrow. “You seem nervous. You know you don’t need to act any differently around me.”

It’s true. He is nervous. “I-I know that,” he says, resisting the urge to tug at his headphone cord or some part of his clothing. “It’s not you I’m nervous about.”

Naoto tilts his head, that familiar analytical gaze focused on Yosuke. “Oh? Did something happen?”

“W-well…yes and no,” Yosuke says, resting his arms on the table. “What I mean is, yes, you could say some things have happened, but it’s not a crime or anything like that. And I think I solved most of the mystery already.” Though it sure took him long enough.

Naoto’s brows furrow, and he follows suit in propping one elbow on the table. “So,” he says, “if it’s not a case that needs solving, what did you call me here for? You sound quite serious.”

Yosuke glances down at the table, pointedly not meeting Naoto’s eyes. “It’s…well—you’re gonna think I’m joking, but it’s…kind of a personal matter.”

Even without looking, he can feel Naoto’s surprise. “A personal matter?” he repeats. “And you thought of me?”

He doesn’t sound upset—just taken aback. After all, Yosuke did tell him once that he seemed to have a tin ear for other people’s feelings. But that was months ago, and Naoto’s changed too.

“Y-yeah,” Yosuke says sheepishly. “You’re smart. You have a good head on your shoulders. And you’re not the type of person to go blabbing about this. Besides,” he adds, finally looking back up, “I believe you have some experience in this particular field.”

Something seems to click in Naoto’s mind. “Is this about…?”

“Yeah.” The words tumble out of Yosuke’s mouth, words he’s been terrified to speak for so long. “I like guys.”

In retrospect, they’re so fucking simple, and yet they’ve been stuck in his throat all this time. Because he was ashamed. He was so ashamed. Deep down, he still is.

Naoto nods thoughtfully. “I had suspected as much.” His eyes widen a little. “Oh—that probably wasn’t the appropriate response, was it?”

Yosuke chuckles, releasing some of the tension in his muscles. “No, no, you’re fine,” he says, and he means it. “It…helps, I think. That you’re so calm.” It makes him feel like maybe this isn’t so monumental after all.

“I’m glad,” Naoto says. His gaze is expectant, and it occurs to Yosuke once again that he probably should’ve thought this conversation through a little more. Truthfully, he wasn’t even sure he’d get this far.

“I guess I’m just wondering…” He drums his fingertips on the table. “When does it get easier? How does it get easier?” How do I stop feeling like a freak, like there’s something wrong with me?

Naoto is quiet for a moment. “I think,” he says, “that it’s a lot like anything else. It takes time, and it takes effort. But most importantly, it takes not shying away from it. If you keep denying it and being afraid of it, you won’t get anywhere. You’ll keep thinking of it as this big, horrible, taboo thing.” He leans back a little, crossing his arms over his chest and gazing up at the ceiling of the pavilion. “Even after I started presenting as male, I beat myself up over it for a long time. Why couldn’t I just be content as a girl? Why did it have to feel so wrong? But that didn’t do me any good. You can’t force yourself to be something you’re not.”

I beat myself up over it. The words feel painfully familiar. That’s what Yosuke’s been doing, isn’t it? Berating himself, hating himself for something he could never change, no matter how hard he tried. He knows Yu isn’t the first. He remembers being in middle school, having to consciously avert his eyes from the boys playing sports. He remembers before he moved to Inaba, how his heart would pound when one of his guy friends got close, how something in him would secretly hope for more than just a casual touch, before he inevitably tamped it down. He remembers how for years, he’s played up his attraction to girls in order to convince everyone—himself most of all—that he could never be gay, to the point that he can no longer tell how much of it is genuine and how much is overcompensation.

“Damn it,” Yosuke mutters to no one in particular. It’s been a long time coming—all of it.

Naoto’s expression softens. “I wish I could be of more help,” he says. “But at the end of the day, you’re the one who’s going to have to accept that part of you.” He shrugs. “All we can do is lend an ear when you need it, and be there to remind you that there is nothing wrong with you.”

Yosuke blinks a few times. He knows, deep down, that Naoto is right—he might feel like something’s wrong with him, but that’s just a result of his own insecurities. He’s never thought there was something wrong with Yu or Naoto or Chie. Even his digs at Kanji were merely a projection of his own issues, not genuine disdain. In fact, if anything, he respects Kanji for being able to endure the vitriol directed at him.

He’s aware, logically, that his attraction to the same gender is not a character flaw. But it’s different to actually hear someone say it to him. It feels like Naoto peered into Yosuke’s mind and plucked out his exact fears.

“I-I’m sorry,” Naoto says, looking mildly alarmed. “Did I say something wrong?”

Yosuke frowns. “What? No, of course not. Why are you—?”

It’s only then that he notices the wetness on his cheeks.

“Oh,” he says softly, reaching a hand up to brush the tears away. He chuckles halfheartedly. “Jeez, this is embarrassing.”

For his part, Naoto looks embarrassed too, politely averting his gaze from Yosuke’s face. “A-are you sure you’re alright? I didn’t intend to upset you.”

His instinct is to insist that he’s fine, to change the subject, deflecting any concern for himself. But he knows that’s not what he should do, so instead, he tries to be honest.

“I’ll be okay,” he says, wiping his eyes. It’s closer to the truth, at least—he will be okay. “I just…didn’t expect you to know exactly what I was thinking.”

“I didn’t,” Naoto says matter-of-factly. “I simply remembered how I once felt and tried to tell you what I think I needed to hear back then. I…thought maybe it was what you needed to hear, too.”

Yosuke laughs a little. “Well, detective, you’ll be happy to know that your theory was right on the mark.” He slides his legs out from under the table and rises to his feet. “And…thanks. I think my head’s a little clearer now.”

Naoto stands up too. “I’m glad I could be of some assistance.” He nods firmly. “And…good luck.”

To Yosuke’s relief, Yu’s feeling better by the time classes start back up. He doesn’t give any indication that he knows Yosuke kissed him, but he’s good at hiding things when he needs to. Yosuke tries his best to act the same as usual, but he’s a mess inside. The thought of telling Yu everything makes his heart pound, but keeping it all to himself is agony, too.

Still, he’s not quite ready to open that door just yet. There’s one more person he has to talk to first.

He owes it to Kanji to try to make things right between them.

At the end of the school day, Yosuke texts him and asks to meet him on the rooftop. It’s cold with a light dusting of snow, so there shouldn’t be anyone else up there.

Sure enough, for a few minutes, Yosuke is the only person on the roof, the cold giving him an excuse to pace back and forth. He can pass it off as just trying to get warm, but more than anything, he’s trying to release some of the anxiety filling him from top to bottom. What if he says something wrong, screws it up even more?

Mercifully, he doesn’t have much time to spiral, because then the door opens, and Kanji Tatsumi steps outside. Yosuke stops pacing and turns toward him.

“So, uh,” Kanji says, the door shutting behind him, “what’s this about?”

Yosuke can hear his own voice echoing in his ears—every quip that he convinced himself was just lighthearted teasing, every time he pushed his sexuality issues onto Kanji, as if it would make him feel more secure.

With a gesture of his hand, Yosuke leads Kanji over to the side, near the ledge where they’d sometimes sit and eat lunch when it was nice outside. He’ll take as much extra time as he can get to compose himself, even if it’s only a few seconds.

Finally, he turns to face Kanji. “I…” He fiddles with the cord of his headphones. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

Kanji frowns. “Huh? For what?”

Yosuke grimaces. You’re gonna make me say it, aren’t you? He supposes it’s what he deserves.

He hunches his shoulders, his ears burning. The last time he felt this small was when he faced his Shadow. Perhaps, in a way, he’s facing it again. Perhaps he’s been facing it all this time.

“For everything,” he says, forcing himself to look up and make eye contact. “For…you know, for always bugging you about your sexuality and getting all weird about it.” He rubs his eye. “I was being stupid and immature. I’m sorry.”

Kanji looks like he doesn’t quite know how to respond. “Oh,” he says, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. The mention of his sexuality appears to have embarrassed him a little. “S’okay.”

“No, it’s not,” Yosuke says, sitting down on the rooftop ledge and crossing his arms. “I was going through my own stuff, and I took it out on you.”

Kanji raises an eyebrow and sits down next to him. “Stuff?”

Yosuke’s face must be bright red. “Y-yeah,” he says, glancing down at his feet. His heart is in his throat. “I…I think you reminded me a bit too much of myself. It…scared me.”

Kanji seems taken aback. “What? How? We’re nothin’ alike.”

Yosuke sighs, looking back up at the sky. “Yeah, we are. We’re both terrified of being hated for who we are. We just deal with it in different ways.”

And yet, even their ways of dealing with it might not be so different. Once, there was a part of him—the part that became his Shadow—that wanted to lash out, the same way Kanji did. He thought it would be easier if he could say he hated everyone and everything anyway, that maybe it would make their scorn hurt less. Screw the shopping district, and screw Junes, and screw this whole fucking town, just like his Shadow said. But it was just a defense mechanism, a sorry attempt at making himself feel better.

“So…yeah,” he says. “I’m sorry for egging you on and making you uncomfortable.”

Kanji looks like he’s seeing Yosuke for the first time. In a way, he sort of is.

“Also,” Yosuke adds before he can back out, “turns out I’m into dudes too.” He tries to laugh, but it comes out strangled.

Kanji blinks. “Wait, what?”

Yosuke snorts. “You heard me.”

Kanji stares at him, dumbfounded. Then he shakes his head. “But—you—” he sputters. “You’re tellin’ me all that time…?”

Yosuke covers his face with his hands. “Yeah,” he mutters. “Pretty pathetic, huh?”

Kanji doesn’t speak at first, likely still trying to process it, his mind restructuring everything Yosuke’s ever said on the topic of sexuality to fit with this new context.

“Not really,” he says finally. “I mean, I was tryin’ to deny it too for a while. But I’m done with all that now.”

At that, Yosuke drops his hands and cracks a smile. “Yeah,” he says. “I think I am, too.”

For a few moments, they sit in quiet, comfortable silence, gazing up at the cloudy sky. Then Yosuke pulls himself to his feet and reaches a hand out to Kanji.

“So,” he says, “think we can start over?”

Kanji stands up and clasps Yosuke’s hand in his own. “Sure, man,” he says. “Oh, and, uh…” He shoves his hands into his pockets and takes a step back. “Thanks.”

Yosuke waves a hand, suddenly feeling lighter. “Don’t mention it.”

A year ago, Yosuke never would’ve considered acting on feelings like this. Wouldn’t have even admitted that they existed, not to anyone, least of all to himself. But things have changed since then. Hopefully he’s changed, too.

His gut is a bundle of nerves as he leads Yu to the hill overlooking town. He knows he’s walking faster than usual, but even with his shoulders hunched and his hands stuffed into his pockets, he’s sure Yu can tell that the cold isn’t what’s bothering him. Body language and conspicuous lack of small talk aside, the way he approached Yu after school—without preface, just an I need to talk to you in a quiet voice—was probably more than enough of a hint that it’s something serious.

He’s so caught up in his own thoughts—battling what-if scenarios with internal pep talks, all of which he’s already gone through over and over and over—that he barely even notices at first that they’ve reached the top of the hill. It’s only when Yu calls his name that Yosuke awakens from his trance and finds himself standing a few feet away from the fence, the whole of Inaba sprawled out below him, blanketed in snow.

“Oh,” he says. “S-sorry. Spaced out a little.” It’s a solid contender for Understatement of the Year—and it’s only January.

“Right,” Yu says, clearly not falling for it. “So, you said you needed to talk to me?”

Yosuke shifts from one foot to the other. “Y-yeah.”

Yu stares at him expectantly. Yosuke knows he should say something, anything, but his mouth is suddenly dry as he meets Yu’s gaze. His best friend. His partner. They’ve spent countless days and nights just like this, side by side.

And Yosuke might be about to ruin it. Or maybe he already has.

“So, um…” he starts, clearing his throat. He could swear he went through every possible version of this conversation in his head, but they all seem to have left him now.

Yu’s gaze softens a little. “Yosuke,” he says, his voice slightly muffled by the blood roaring in Yosuke’s ears. “You know you can tell me anything.”

He reaches out and rests a hand on Yosuke’s shoulder, but Yosuke is so frozen with panic that the unexpected touch makes him flinch, automatically taking a step back. Yu quickly retracts his hand.

“S-sorry,” Yosuke says, shaking his head. “I know.”

Thankfully, that touch seems to have pulled him out of his thoughts and back into the present. He takes a deep breath and tries again.

“I have a secret,” he starts, crossing his arms over his chest. “Well, maybe it’s not a secret to you.” He glances sheepishly down at his feet. “I’m starting to think the only person I was actually hiding it from was myself.”

He’s quiet for a moment as he searches for his next words. Yu says nothing, but even without looking, Yosuke can feel his gaze trained on him. Watching. Waiting.

He supposes there’s no use in delaying it any longer.

Yosuke swallows hard and forces himself to look at Yu. And then he says it. “I, um…I like guys.”

Yu lets out what sounds like a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank God. I thought you were going to ask me to hit you again.”

For a moment, Yosuke just stares at him, dumbfounded. Then, slowly, the laughter bubbles up in his chest and spills out of his mouth, and after a few seconds, Yu joins in.

“Dude,” Yosuke says in between gasps, “are you for real? Be serious!”

Through laughter of his own, Yu replies, “I’m always serious.”

They stay like that until Yosuke’s mouth hurts from grinning so hard, until the ache in his stomach no longer stems from anxiety. They stay like that until Yosuke can finally breathe again.

In the afterglow, his mind is clear. He can say the rest of what he came here to say. Even if it terrifies him.

“Yu,” he says quietly, stuffing his hands in his pockets, “you know you’re my best friend. I don’t have to ask that. I know you know. And you know I’ve always felt like the word ‘friend’ doesn’t quite cover it. It doesn’t…feel like enough. To describe what you are to me.” If his face wasn’t already bright red from the cold, it sure is now.

“It feels so obvious now that I’ve stopped trying to deny it,” he continues, cracking a sheepish smile and shaking his head. “You’re special to me. I said that even before I fully understood what I meant. What I felt. But I do understand now.”

His fingers twitch. He aches to reach out, to take Yu’s hand in his, but he stays put. Just in case.

“What I’m trying to say is…”

He takes a deep breath. In, out.

“I—I have feelings for you.”

He glances away even as he says it. He doesn’t know if he can bear to see the look on Yu’s face.

“And,” he adds quickly, holding his hands up in surrender, “I don’t want you to feel pressured. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way, really, I’ll get over it, I just—I had to get this out, because if I didn’t then it was going to eat me alive, and I—”

He’s not sure where his nervous rambling is headed, but he supposes he’ll never find out—because that’s when Yu Narukami steps forward and kisses Yosuke on the mouth.

Yosuke’s mind goes blank, his whole body frozen in shock at Yu’s lips pressed against his, Yu’s gloved hand cupping Yosuke’s cheek. He’s kissing his best friend. No—his best friend is kissing him.

Somewhere in the back of his head, a little voice of reason shouts, Kiss him back, you idiot!

So he does. He wraps an arm around Yu’s waist, pulls him in closer, and kisses back, his heart pounding as he revels in the feeling of Yu’s lips on his and the warmth of their shared body heat. It’s everything he’s been longing for—everything he thought he’d never be able to have.

All told, it can’t last much more than a few seconds before Yu pulls away, his hand sliding down from Yosuke’s cheek to his shoulder, like he doesn’t want to let go just yet.

Then, softly, he smiles. “I’m guessing this means you really did kiss me while I was sick, huh?”

Heat rushes to Yosuke’s cheeks, and he takes a step back, cringing a little in embarrassment. He’d almost forgotten about that part. “You remember that?”

“Not really,” Yu replies, rubbing the back of his neck. “But I did overhear bits and pieces of your conversation with Teddie right after.”

Yosuke smacks his forehead. Of course.

“Honestly,” Yu continues, “up until right now, I never was quite certain if that really happened or if it was just a fever dream I had.”

Yosuke snorts, feeling his body start to relax again. “Fair enough.” He rubs his nose. “Well, it happened.”

“Wish I would’ve been conscious for it,” Yu says. “Ah, well. Plenty of time to make up for that.” Then he steps forward and, easy as breathing, slips his hand into Yosuke’s.

Even through the cloth of their gloves, Yosuke can feel his warmth, as comforting as it’s always been. He doesn’t want to ever let it go.

“I…” he starts, glancing down at their fingers laced together. “Are you sure about this?”

“About what?” Yu asks. “You like me. I like you. Isn’t that all that matters?”

It sounds so simple when he says it like that. Hell, maybe it is. Maybe Yosuke’s the one overthinking it. Maybe it really can be just that simple.

His mind swirls with questions. Aren’t you worried about what people will think? Will Dojima approve? What happens when you leave Inaba in March? Are you sure you want to be with me, of all people?

Yu frowns a little at Yosuke’s lack of a response. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to assume, I just…”

He starts to pull away, but Yosuke pulls him back, clutching his hand tighter. “Dude, I literally just confessed my feelings for you,” he says with a chuckle. “You’re not assuming anything. I guess I’m just still in shock. And I—I just want to make sure you really want this.”

“I do,” Yu says without hesitation, squeezing Yosuke’s hand. “I do want this. I want you. If you’ll have me.”

It’s starting to sink in now: Yu really does feel the same way. He means every word. Of course he does.

A grin breaks across Yosuke’s face. Before, he might have worried about looking stupid. Now, the thought barely crosses his mind, because for once, he doesn’t feel burdened by something he can’t name, always lingering inside him, just out of reach. For the first time in a long, long time, he feels weightless.

“‘Course I will, partner,” he says, and with that, he leans in and kisses Yu again. Maybe this time, he’ll get it right.