* The echoing squeaks of Yosuke's sneakers descended the stairwell, and Souji could do little to stop them. He could have, at first. He could have opened his mouth, said something. He could have said wait, or don't go, or even I'm sorry, let's talk about it. But he hadn't said any of those things. He'd been too busy staring, while Yosuke sprang to his feet and shouted. Staring at Yosuke's red face and narrowed eyes and flared nostrils. The way his jaw tightened. The way his voice broke even while he ripped into Souji. How was Souji supposed to concentrate on what Yosuke was saying when he was so furious his hair stood on end and he was actually spitting a bit? Yosuke had looked positively feral, and Souji had wanted nothing more than to grab him by the collar and drag him to bed
( ... )
Souji's tongue was blissfully, wonderfully numb. The citrus tang of bitter yuzu and sweet satsuma filled his senses pleasantly. He closed his eyes and sighed in relief. That was better. A pearl of mango boba burst between his teeth like an orgasm of inner sunlight, and his soul felt immensely soothed after the rough day
( ... )
“I thought you had left me for the girl in the cake stand, Seta-kun.” Teased the old woman who ran the yoghurt place closest to Souji's parent's apartment. “You haven't been here to see me in so long
( ... )
In my head, Yosuke likes to sulk out of other people's view. He sort of ended up in the tree as an extension of that line of thought. I'm glad that it worked for you, too!
OP here! SO excited that you've updated and to know that the ending is coming, but also sad that it's going to be over. This has been so beautiful to read. I loved Souji's insecurity about eating in front of people, or how they might perceive a chubby guy eating sweets, but also the scene where he was just enjoying his food and his memories (because really, why not? what's so bad about that? nothing...). will be checking this compulsively till you're able to post the final part, definitely. And still so hopeful that when Souji finally faces his fears, he'll get a happy ending. That both of them will. Even though it's understated you can tell they've both been going through a lot, and I love how you handled it with so much subtlety.
Oh, OP. I can't apologize enough for how long this fill got on me. It really wasn't supposed to. Originally I think I had about seven parts for it, but it grew all on its own.
I've enjoyed writing it, and I hope that the end doesn't disappoint, after you have waited for it so patiently all this time.
Souji headed towards the building, thankful that he still had his key. Yosuke followed, a bit subdued, hands stuffed into his pockets. It made his new dark jeans hang from his hips even more starkly than before, and Souji made a mental note to get Yosuke to eat something if it was possible. He could see the notches on the other boy's spine, not just the usual visible ridges
( ... )
Yosuke's eyes rise instantly, so quick it's as if his irises are attached to some imaginary string that some unseen hand is tugging at. They shimmer with something, but it isn't tears this time. It's some strange mix of emotion that Souji can't even read, but he can feel right across the table, as if emotions are contagious and he's just caught some desperate, lovesick stomach flu of hope and regret and disbelief and deep, encompassing misery. Please don't take that back Yosuke's eyes are saying, though when his mouth moves in response, no words come out
( ... )
* The stone Souji tossed sailed far and skipped nimbly over the surface of the water. Plink-plink-plink-plink-plink-splash. Yosuke didn't even try to skip his this time, he just threw it in and watched with some grim satisfaction as it sank. He took another rope of rice candy from the bag they were sharing, and chewed on the end. With his free hand, he rubbed a bit of the fabric from the hem of Souji's pants between his fingers, thoughtfully
( ... )
* Souji doesn't see the hit coming, but Yosuke does. It lands, and Souji finds himself sprawled against the table, palms pressed down behind him, hoping his nose isn't broken.
“Asshole.” Yosuke spits out at him, seething. It's an imposing thing to see. Yosuke's hair all on end, his body taught in every muscle. Souji expects to look up and see his nostrils flared, his eyes narrowed and throwing lightning bolts. Instead, they are shimmering. Yosuke's face is soft and terrified and hopeful and full of remorse. The next sentence comes out choked. “You're the only thing I've ever cared about
( ... )
There's a karaoke bar that they can't go to anymore. The first time they walked into it, the crowd greeted Yosuke with a chorus of Na na na hey hey goodbye, which Souji is fairly sure he will never get an explanation for.
There's still a shoebox full of punch cards for the yoghurt place under the bed, though neither of them ever pays it any mind these days. Every Sunday, they add another punch to the card. These days, they share the bowl, and they're both a little healthier and happier for it.
There's an agreement they have come to about rainy days, in which they do not get out of bed at all unless it is absolutely, unavoidably necessary.
The most important rule they have come up with, however, is Time Out. During Time Out, no matter what the argument is, and no matter how furious they are at one another, Yosuke stops and listens while Souji searches for the words that he needs to get his own thoughts across.
Souji doesn't panic when his pants get tight at the waist, these days. He just asks Yosuke to help him work it off.
The echoing squeaks of Yosuke's sneakers descended the stairwell, and Souji could do little to stop them. He could have, at first. He could have opened his mouth, said something. He could have said wait, or don't go, or even I'm sorry, let's talk about it. But he hadn't said any of those things. He'd been too busy staring, while Yosuke sprang to his feet and shouted. Staring at Yosuke's red face and narrowed eyes and flared nostrils. The way his jaw tightened. The way his voice broke even while he ripped into Souji. How was Souji supposed to concentrate on what Yosuke was saying when he was so furious his hair stood on end and he was actually spitting a bit? Yosuke had looked positively feral, and Souji had wanted nothing more than to grab him by the collar and drag him to bed ( ... )
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Caliente. And still beautiful too.
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tl;dr, LOVE it!
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I've enjoyed writing it, and I hope that the end doesn't disappoint, after you have waited for it so patiently all this time.
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The stone Souji tossed sailed far and skipped nimbly over the surface of the water. Plink-plink-plink-plink-plink-splash. Yosuke didn't even try to skip his this time, he just threw it in and watched with some grim satisfaction as it sank. He took another rope of rice candy from the bag they were sharing, and chewed on the end. With his free hand, he rubbed a bit of the fabric from the hem of Souji's pants between his fingers, thoughtfully ( ... )
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Souji doesn't see the hit coming, but Yosuke does. It lands, and Souji finds himself sprawled against the table, palms pressed down behind him, hoping his nose isn't broken.
“Asshole.” Yosuke spits out at him, seething. It's an imposing thing to see. Yosuke's hair all on end, his body taught in every muscle. Souji expects to look up and see his nostrils flared, his eyes narrowed and throwing lightning bolts. Instead, they are shimmering. Yosuke's face is soft and terrified and hopeful and full of remorse. The next sentence comes out choked. “You're the only thing I've ever cared about ( ... )
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There's still a shoebox full of punch cards for the yoghurt place under the bed, though neither of them ever pays it any mind these days. Every Sunday, they add another punch to the card. These days, they share the bowl, and they're both a little healthier and happier for it.
There's an agreement they have come to about rainy days, in which they do not get out of bed at all unless it is absolutely, unavoidably necessary.
The most important rule they have come up with, however, is Time Out. During Time Out, no matter what the argument is, and no matter how furious they are at one another, Yosuke stops and listens while Souji searches for the words that he needs to get his own thoughts across.
Souji doesn't panic when his pants get tight at the waist, these days. He just asks Yosuke to help him work it off.
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