A/n: I'm a filmmaker now, but I still love me some Persona 5 (the video game; the anime is trash). This fiction, is a sequel to the slight AU titled "Ungrown Up". Please read that work first (or not. Your choice really). As this fiction develops, may maintain adult themes. I hope you enjoy.

No Romance

In a "perfect" world men, women and the non-binary are respectable individuals. They do things, such as wait in line patiently behind fellow patrons at the convenience store. For Professor Sakura Futaba, that was not happening. It was perfectly 00:00 hours outside, pitch black night – January – cooler than she liked. The elements of the instance inspired her to cut in line, as to buy condoms in nothing but her lab coat, a snug fitted sweater dress, and faux fur winter boots.

Her latest squeeze was on his way over for a romp after some late night research and she didn't have any condoms on hand. Her roommate, the stupid fox she loved like a life partner - not a romantic one - Yusuke, didn't have any either. So there she was; rude and motivated enough to cut fellow patrons in line to buy condoms for a quick romp, only to be at odds with a store clerk that raised his hand to her face and muttered, "No, bitch. Back of the line."

Futaba glanced over her shoulder and saw there was one person behind her; an elderly woman who was flipping through magazines. She did not seem to notice Futaba cut her in the first place. Perhaps because she used her appearance to deceive others and took the opportunity to steal other items that could fit inside her handbag. "That woman is not even paying attention." She retorted.

"So? Back of the line."

"You know who I am? I'm a famous researcher – "

"Who skips old ladies to buy condoms. Yeah. I know. Back of the line."

Futaba wasn't one to throw around her success but figured why not since the store was located in the district of her laboratory. It did not matter, for her attempt failed miserably.

"Listen. I won't even take the change – just ring me up." She pulled out the bill and waved it in front of the clerk, who was unresponsive and didn't have time for what he believed was bullshit, "Next!" The clerk called.

Futaba was not normally quick to rage but was quick to violence after years of bopping Ryuji on the head and screaming competitions with Yusuke. Without even permitting the clerk to blink after his dismissal of her, she climbed atop the counter, grabbed him by his collar and shouted, "You will sell me condoms!"

"Sa-Sakura-san?"

At that very moment, Futaba peered over her shoulder to see her colleague and friend with benefits, Professor Williams, standing with a bottle of wine and his own box of condoms in hand. His dark skin and thick afro made it apparent that the only thing Japanese about him was his ability to speak the language and reside in the country.

Professor Tyrell Williams' hair was as a big as he was tall; he stood a few centimeters above Yusuke, without shoes on. He wore his winter jacket open, revealing his taste for crumbled flannel shirts and dark jeans. He was from the Bronx, New York and studied the sciences since he was six. He chose Japan to continue his research since the country aligned with his personal interests as a "BLERD" (Black-Nerd) and he enjoyed anime and Japanese video games.

"Williams…" Futaba released the collar of the bitch clerk and climbed off the counter. The clerk over dramatically gasped for air; the old woman left with her stolen magazine and various other goods. Futaba walked up to her sex partner and as if to fuse and become an amazing sex mecha of some sort, they tapped their individual box of condoms and smiled at each other. Hours later they had such loud sex, even while holding his pillow over his ears, Yusuke could not block the sound.

In the morning, Yusuke watched the two flirt in the kitchen. Tyrell sipped and sampled Futaba's famous over salted miso soup and tried to sneak kisses from her mouth. Sitting at the counter across from them, Yusuke wondered how much more he would put up with; he felt invisible in his own home. It always went that way.

For Head of Research, Professor Sakura Futaba, such a remarkable genius, flirting was not required. She'd be assigned a kohai to work alongside, and her brilliance the only aphrodisiac. Every other month it was someone else. Yusuke reached the point where he hoped his longtime friend and roommate would just choose one so he wouldn't have to remember someone else's name and feel awkward seeing the person in the nearby supermarket, for they all lived within proximity to the lab.

He ran into them so often, he began confusing them and desperately wanted to disappear to a Palace reminiscent of their days as Phantom Thieves. In this Palace, he'd escape polite small talk that eventually led to how Futaba was doing. What would Yusuke's "Escape Palace" look like? An empty apartment where he and Futaba watched television, drank her over salted miso soup and didn't have her ex-hookups trying to find them, but starving outside for her affection?

He liked the idea.

Tyrell disappeared into Futaba's bedroom, perhaps to get his things and Yusuke stared at the smiling young woman, who often glowed after sex. That particular morning she was glowing with more than her own pleasure, but affection; the image of a woman in love.

Yusuke scolded himself for such thoughts. He loved Futaba and because he loved her, he'd never tell her and never pursue her romantically. Futaba was broken out of her own trance feeling Yusuke's eyes on her.

"Yes?" Annoyance high in her voice.

"You look good." He said frankly.

"Gross!" She raised her hand to bop him on the head and was stopped by his speed and obviously stronger grip

"Are you going to keep doing this? Sleeping with men who obviously like you more than you like them?"

"Why does it matter?"

"Do you feel no guilt about playing with their hearts?"

"No."

"Would you feel guilty if it was mine? My heart?" Yusuke released Futaba and she was stunned by his directness. "You're an adult, Futaba, and you can do what you want, with who you want, but really. Are we not better than – whatever it is you do with these guys?"

"A woman decides to have multiple partners and it's frowned upon. What a surprise."

"This is not a gender or sex debate, Futaba. It's just – why? Do you not care how these people feel when you're done with them? Do you not care how I feel to see you walk different men in and out our front door?"

"I don't say anything when you have guests."

"I never have guests."

"Maybe you should, so you can mind your business and not mine."

"Maybe I should. But it'd be your business – since – I'm in love with you." He said it. He knew he shouldn't have and he knew nothing would be changed in him saying it, but perhaps Yusuke hoped she'd be more considerate; of his feelings; of her own.

"Stupid fox!" Futaba shouted. She fumed and felt the burning of her cheeks as her face grew hot; she was red from ear to ear. She was unsure if she felt rage or embarrassment, but those words made her uncomfortable. She held her cheeks and turned away from Yusuke, who smiled. He did love her, the way a person loves without sexuality being a subject or making one a marital partner. They were just – partners; friends; roommates; soulmates perhaps.

Tyrell walked out of the bedroom fully dressed to go. From a distance, one could examine the hurt on his face. Futaba hurried to his side, grabbed her coat and things and they left the apartment; the door slammed loudly. Yusuke sat in the kitchen hungry and alone. The flame of the gas stove still burned underneath the miso soup.

The day blazed by and the evening crept in; 6 pm being dark – as it tends to be in January. It was the weekend and Yusuke enjoyed a lazy nap after hours of painting. Futaba did not return after leaving with Prof. Williams that morning. Yusuke supposed she went to the lab. He was surprised to open his eyes from his nap and Futaba next to him; her face veiled by her strawberry hair. He carefully moved a few strands from her face, revealing her fair skin.

Was it possible for a man and woman to be involved and not be romantic? Not be sexual? Not be – typical. There was no answer. And there didn't have to be one. As Yusuke carefully tried to make his way out of bed, over Futaba's resting figure, he felt a tug on his shirt.

"I'm sorry about earlier." She said.

"I know."

"I – I wouldn't do that to you."

"I know."

"I'm afraid I would, so – that's why –"

"I know."

"You may think this is silly, but you're my best friend. I don't want to lose that."

"I know." Yusuke returned to his spot beside Futaba, and she rested her head on his chest. He ran his fingers through her hair and let the silence between them and the white noise of the apartment serve as ambiance. Hours passed, and for dinner, they had Futaba's salty miso, rice, and some leftover Leblanc curry. For dessert, they ate ice cream and sat in the couch, legs intertwined; Yusuke listened.

Futaba liked Tyrell a great deal. However, Tyrell suggested they keep their relationship casual. Prof. Williams had a wife and child back in the U.S. and he liked Futaba too much to make empty promises of leaving his family behind for her. That morning, Tyrell received a call from his wife, informing him their child was in the ER. Shortly after, post-Futaba's climactic exit, over cups of coffee, he ended their relationship. Futaba spent all day crying in her lab.

Yusuke reprimanded himself and apologized for assuming that Futaba was always the one doing the damage. He figured every awkward conversation in the supermarket was those men hurting; never her. He figured it was always her crime; which sometimes it was. More than anything, however, he realized he was ignorant. He understood the best way to love Futaba was to never make her less or more than she was to him right then and there. Yusuke vowed to himself when it came to Sakura Futaba, there'd be no romance.