Nanako's dungeon smelled of tangerines and summer afternoons, at least at first; after the fourth heaven, when the skies started to darken, Yosuke started to feel something seeping under the fruity air, something that made him think of sewers and the color of rotting wood. It made him remember shaking kissing the cheek of his least favorite great-aunt at a Christmas dinner, but also made him wonder what his hands would feel like if he pulled Souji by the collar of his unbuttoned shirt.
"You okay, Yosuke-senpai?" Rise called, the worry in her faraway voice enough to make him snap back to reality. Yosuke startled, even though weeks of fighting had left him used to the presence of Rise's voice inside his head. Beside him, Souji was staring at the end of the sunset-colored hallway, as though trying to see past the nauseatingly fog; he hadn't noticed him losing focus, and Yosuke breathed in relief.
"Peachy," he answered, dragging his hand down the side of his face, feeling the calluses on his palm, on his cheek.
"Don't strain yourself, senpai!" she sang, sweet and chirping as ever, exiting his ear canal.
I wouldn't think of it, he didn't reply, his breath ragged. When Souji started jogging through the celestial planes, Yosuke was the first to run after him; he wondered, then, what that said of him.
"Like, our medical records didn't say anything important, did they? There was nothing special about us, right?" he asked the following day, one rainy afternoon. It was hushed and out of the blue, but Naoto heard.
They were at Junes. The bruises on his arms and legs still ached when he walked, and thus Souji had decided not to go into the television until he was sure he could run them ragged with no interruptions. He could be cruel, if he wanted to, opting to forget to rest, always looking ahead, searching for the next stairway to heaven. Yosuke wanted to save Nanako, too (of course he did, he adored her, too), but Souji was determined to get her out as fast as he could. It wasn't just 'someone' this time – deep down, Yosuke understood. Hadn't Saki been to him what Nanako was to Souji?
"No," she replied, cocking her head to the side just slightly, her façade of coolness fading into one of curiosity. "Why, did something happen?"
Yosuke thought of his hands wrapping around Souji's collar, his fingers brushing against his collarbones, those grey eyes widening, thought hard about the rotting smell underneath the tangerine fog, about how much it bothered him, about how much it made him anxious, and said: "No. It's nothing."
Naoto wasn't a police advisor for anything, but, though she let her dark eyes hover his, she didn't add to the conversation. Yosuke smiled nervously, finding it hard to swallow. The table wasn't quiet, but, from Souji's frowning expression, Yosuke knew he'd heard.
"Don't you get tired sometimes?" he asked, at the entrance of Yukiko's castle. They were here for something or the other, for one of those errands Souji always seemed to have to run.
Yukiko's castle smelled of expensive perfume with a hint of raspberries. It didn't smell of anything terrible underneath, or anything, no, just that sweet smell he always associated with girls his age; but it made him want to brush his fingers against something. Yukiko's castle gave him sweaty palms and made him as nervous as he'd been the day he met Rise. He supposed it was because it was built out of the desire to find a boy, or something, he didn't really care. Liar, he thought, you're a liar.
"Of what?" Souji asked back, not looking away from the lit-up doorway. The lines drifted across his face, turning his eyes crimson, and Yosuke's breath skipped, but then the lights continued to melt and the air came back.
"Of holding that huge ass sword!" he said, rolling his eyes. "Don't your arms get tired, dude?"
They'd been in Nanako's heaven, before this. They'd been in Nanako's heaven for hours, breathing in that innocently pungent perfume, and Yosuke was wiped, but Souji refused to admit defeat for the day, keeping his spine as straight as his blade.
"I'm fine," he replied, quiet as always, but what Yosuke heard was: I'm tired and angry and I'm not letting up until I have her safe and sound. He lifted his sword, and looked him in the eyes before he entered the pink nightmare. Yosuke stayed behind, feeling helpless, watching him disappear inside the red and black mess. The others kept quiet as they ran after him, the exhaustion noticeable only if one really looked; magic spells only worked for so long.
When he could no longer see the party, he slumped to the floor, feeling Naoto's analyzing eyes.
"I'm tired, is all," he lied, staring at the dark red sky.
"Hey, you know what? Teddie can go in my place today."
"What?" Chie squawked, laughing. Behind her, Kanji's bathhouse loomed, melting a soapy smell into the air. Yosuke's stomach flipped at the thought of running hot water and clean, cool wall tiles. "Since when do you pass up your spot for Teddie's?"
"I'm tired," he said, and it wasn't a lie. His body ached with his lack of sleep, with his constant nausea, with the pictures that kept running through his mind. When he and Souji had fought, he remembered liking the pain, liking the split lip he got, adoring the cheekbone bruise he gave in return. He hadn't thought about how smooth his skin felt under his closed fist, how he would look if he pushed him against a wall. But now, he did. "I think I'm getting a cold."
Souji looked at him, skeptic and concerned at the same time, but inevitably said: "Okay, if you say so."
"It's not like you can't make up for my wind skills, right?" He laughed, hollow.
"Yeah," Souji said, blankly. "Just for today, though."
"Thanks," Yosuke returned, feeling guilty already.
"Have you been sleeping well?" Souji asked him, after class. Outside, the sunny weather soothed Yosuke, tricking him into thinking that they still had time. "You haven't been at the top of your game."
"I'm in love with you," Yosuke wanted to say, but didn't. Instead, he chuckled, shrugged his shoulders, and said, "I'm just concerned about Nanako-chan," which in itself wasn't a lie, more like a half-truth. Because even though it terrified him to know that Nanako was waiting, to find something so exasperating about himself was what was truly aching.
Souji said nothing, as usual, so he took the chance to escape.
"I gotta help out at Junes today, so—" and he waved goodbye, letting the words hang in the air.
Souji nodded, after a few speechless seconds, and when Yosuke left, he didn't look back. It ached, but it wasn't like he wasn't used to repressing things, right?
Yeah, he told himself, watching his reflection on the wet window as he went, telling himself he hadn't seen the yellow color inking his eyes. Yeah, this is okay.