Title: Wish You Felt Better
Chapters: 1/??
Author: all_is_revealed (or Chrissu, if you know my LJ)
Genre: Angst, Horror, Romance (if you squint), Hurt/Comfort (I do a lot of these. :\)
Warnings: language, SPOILERS FOR THE TRUE ENDING AND THE WHOLE GAME AND THE KILLER, ETC., horrific images, nightmares, slight insanity, male/male, tangents, purposeful run-on sentences
Rating: M, for later chapters.
Pairings/Characters: Yosuke/Souji, among others.
Synopsis: The case is over. Everything should be back to normal, right? It is, for everyone but Yosuke, that is. He just can't seem to get rid of his nightmares.
Disclaimer: They belong to ATLUS/Persona 4. I don't own them.
Comments: Err. Before ANYONE nags me about incomplete sentences, as well as run-on ones, DON'T. They're for dramatic effect, and it shows the general chaos Yosuke's mind is in. Yeah, I don't write your "typical Yosuke". I write the side he hides, the one no one sees. His shadow, if you will. This story is hard to explain, and it might not make sense at times, but I hope you read it and enjoy it nonetheless. Starts in mid-June, 2012. He doesn't see himself as gay, he just sees himself as "having feelings for Souji that are more than brotherly". Just to clear up any confusion before it starts. (Italics are thought, or emphasis)

It almost felt as if the red spiraling sky above was mocking him. How it was mocking him, the teenager wasn't quite sure himself. It just felt like it was. Perhaps it was the fact that it reminded him of spilled blood. Unlike the world below, the "blood" in the sky was entirely normal. It wasn't really blood, it was just the way the world seemed to work here—a red sky.

However, the "blood" on the ground wasn't normal. It wasn't the way the world worked. The "blood" on the ground was really just that—the spilled blood of his fallen comrades. He looked on in horror, his team mates' corpses littered with bullet holes. The kunai slipped out of his sweaty hands, falling into the blood beneath his feet—the blood that belonged to his leader. A silent scream forced its way past his lips, and he dropped to his knees.

Music would not save him now. His headphones hung loosely around his neck, filling the empty air with incomprehensible noise. Rather, it filled the space that remained. In the air hung the stench of death, along with the dank smell of a smoking gun. The smell made him want to vomit, to empty the acid eating at the lining of his stomach all over the floor. But no, that would only add to the horrid stench.

Instead, he cried silently, his quivering fingers tugging and tearing at his hair. He couldn't stop shaking. Worst of all, the one who wreaked all this havoc was still there. He was still alive, gripping that damned pistol so tightly in his fist. A manic grin was stretched across his pallid face.

The footsteps grew louder. The man was nearing closer. He shut his eyes tightly, screaming for the man to stop. At least, that's what he tried to do. Just like before, not a sound passed through his lips. His cries for help, along with his protests, were all in vain.

He opened his eyes and slowly lifted his head. He was met with a piercing, golden gaze. The barrel of the gun was pressed against his forehead.

"You're next." He could feel the sweat trickling down his back, and the hot metal against his forehead. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he blubbered. The trigger clicked and

A scream.

An upright jolt.

Cold sweat.

Hot tears.

Shivering.

Laboured breathing.

Relief.

Uncertainty.

Fear.

He looked to his shaking hands. 'I'm alive.' Everything had felt so real, but it wasn't. There was no blood on his skin, nor was there a hole in his head. It had only been a nightmare...that's what he had to keep telling himself. Yet he wasn't feeling convinced. Adachi had been convicted. Izanami was gone. Inaba was safe. So why was he feeling this way? Why couldn't he sleep at night? What was with these horrible nightmares? Yosuke felt a sob lodge itself in his throat, and he promptly buried his face in his palms. The tears added to the perspiration accumulated on his hands, his quiet sobs sending violent shivers through his curled frame.

When he finished crying, he glanced to the clock with squinted eyes. Just like the crimson sky of Magatsu Inaba, the red numbers on the clock appeared to mock him. 2:37 AM. On a Friday night—rather, on a Saturday morning. It was the third night in a row that his sleep had been disturbed, and now he was wide awake. There was no way he could shut his eyes and rest his restless mind now.

Wiping his eyes, he got up and made his way quietly to the bathroom. He had to be very careful, as Teddie was far from a heavy sleeper. Yosuke shut the door behind himself once he was in the bathroom and flicked the light switch to the upright position. He grimaced as the annoyingly bright fluorescent lights buzzed to life, filling the messy bathroom with a fading glow. They would need to be replaced soon. His eyes adjusted and he was able to see himself in the mirror he was standing in front of. His eyes were red and swollen from his bout of crying, and dark bags were apparent beneath them. He let out a soft groan and dragged his fingers down his cheeks. The tugging on his skin only made him look more sickly than he already did.

With a sigh, he splashed a bit of ice cold water on his face in order to further wake himself, and in an attempt to get rid of any evidence that he'd been crying. He shut the water off moments later and rested his elbows against the white counter top. An exhausted teenager regarded him with dull eyes, peering at him through dampened bangs. Unfortunately for Yosuke, the exhausted teenager was him; there was no "other world" in mirrors. He could've sworn that the person in the mirror wasn't him, yet it was. The optimistic, goofy side of him had fallen dormant, leaving a tired, zombie-like husk in its wake. He grit his teeth and clenched his fists, tearing his eyes away from the pathetic excuse of himself pictured in the glass.

This isn't the way things should be. He knew he should be happy, that his pillow should be softer at night, that the weight upon his shoulders should be absent, but no. He was absolutely miserable. His pillow was like a pile of rocks. It felt like he was carrying a truck on his back.

The nightmares had been going on for less than a month, but they'd been basically ruining his life and his sleep for the past three days. However, that was enough. It whittled away at him until he was reduced to the paranoid, neurotic mess he currently was. Because of this, he was constantly shivering and on edge every single minute. Music was the only salvation he had, and he was fearing that even that was failing him now.

Shakily, he flicked the lights off and stumbled out of the bathroom. Another sigh fell from his lips. What now? He was far too high-strung to finish that essay for his history teacher. Too distracted to finish that math homework he'd barely started. Hell, he couldn't even do the small reading assignment for his English teacher. His grades had always sucked, and he had been notorious for them since his elementary years, so in his current state his grades were shit. In fact, they were worse than shit—if it was possible to get worse than that.

Nothing's been working in my favour lately, has it? He thought with a bitter pout, scratching the back of his head. Since he wasn't up to finishing any of his school work, and since it was too early (late?) to try and soothe himself with a little guitar, he decided to pop in one of his neglected CDs and just listen to that. He wondered what he would do if his CD player ever completely died on him. He was drawing a blank. Maybe I'd die too. He thought cynically with a self-mocking laugh. Teddie stirred. He clammed up.

Yosuke leaned against the wall as he adjusted the headphones over his ears and started up the music. The moment the notes invaded his senses, Yosuke made quick to find his "happy place". Everyone had a happy place, so of course, he was no exception. One would think that his would be at a concert, maybe at a music store, or even at a place filled with gorgeous women. Those who assumed that, however, were far from correct. In his "happy place", there was nothing but white. White floor. White walls. White door. White chair. White window, with a white world outside—and vice versa. He soon arrived there, and was sitting on the chair in the middle of the room. His legs kicked back and forth. He was content in that chair, looking outside the window to study the vast expanse of land outside. It seemed to go on endlessly down a white dirt road. A smile. It was perfect.

But all that glitters is certainly not gold, and this was virtually a law to Yosuke by now. The peace that had settled into every corner of his distressed mind was dissolving. His curious eyes moved to the door. Everything seemed to be in order, and then the white was stained. Yosuke's toes curled, hands clutching tightly to the chair. Red leaked in from beneath the door, rapidly spreading. It was thick, yet somewhat runny. It reeked to high heaven of something rotten. Slowly, he brought his feet onto the white wood, wrapping his arms around his drawn up legs. It was as if he was trying to make himself as small as he possibly could be.

His "happy place" was under invasion. The white was being drowned by the red. The walls were soaked. The floor was submerged. The door had been overtaken. The world outside was nonexistent. It was closing in on the chair, slithering up the legs, closer and closer and closer and closer and

His alarm went off. Yosuke was torn from that tainted room and thrown forcefully back into the real world. He looked to the clock. School began in about an hour. He had only zoned out, and that definitely wasn't the same as sleep. It was an understatement to say that he was worn out. Despite the arguments that bounced around back and forth inside his brain, his better judgment told him that he had to go to school—even though he was in no shape to do so. He showered quickly, got dressed, attempted to tame his wild hair, and proceeded to get his school belongings together. Lather, rinse, and repeat. As a student, that was basically how his life was like. The murder case had given it some spice, and now it was all over, leaving a bitter aftertaste. The repetition almost gave him a sense of comfort. He was safe, but he didn't feel it.

He slung his messenger bag over his shoulder, seemingly adding to the immense weight it felt like he was already carrying. It was suffocating. Another glance to the clock informed him that he had forty minutes until school started. That was enough time for a quick breakfast. Now that his deathtrap of a bike was completely totaled and that he was still without his dream motorcycle, he had to walk to school. From where he lived, that took quite a bit of time. He sighed for what felt like the millionth time that week and made his way downstairs to the kitchen. There wasn't too much in the fridge or the pantry, and he couldn't cook worth a damn (unlike their leader. Damn, could he cook! What Yosuke would do to eat some of that delectable cuisine off his—), so breakfast was a tangerine, a few slices of hastily buttered toast, and some leftover egg. He assumed it was from his mother. He diluted it all with a large swig of orange juice, straight from the carton. His father would have a fit if he found that out. Yosuke wiped his lips with the back of his hand, placed the carton back in its proper spot in the fridge, and made quick to shove his feet in his tennis shoes.

The hot June sun was beating down on his back mercilessly as he exited his house. It was getting hotter and brighter with each passing morning, and it was quite unbearable. Even though they'd switched to their summer uniforms, he was melting. What a poor excuse for a summer uniform. He wiped the sweat from his brow, keeping a constant pace in order to get to school on time. What he'd do for a bike right now...

He was now a third year at Yasogami High, and it felt so good to finally be on top. Even though he was failing, that is. It was about two and a half months into the school year and he was sucking already. A bad sign, but he had faith that he'd improve He'd need a miracle, but he had faith that he'd improve.

He gave a tired smile, adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder. Oh, he had a miracle. A miracle maker, at least. To say that he was happy that Souji chose to finish high school in Inaba was a majour understatement. He wasn't quite sure how Souji had managed to convince his parents to let him stay with his uncle another year, but he had, and Yosuke was beyond relieved. Even better, they had ended up in the same class again. Euphoria.

"Yoooo!" Yosuke stumbled slightly, pulling his headphones off his ears and letting Thom Yorke's monotonous voice spill forth from the speakers. He looked over his shoulder only to be greeted by Chie with a sunny smile. How he was jealous of that smile...he wished he could be as happy as she was. "Wanna train with me after school today?" She bounced about in that trademark way of hers, making an effort to fall in step with her friend.

"Nah, not today. I'm...not feeling it." Yosuke shrugged, fiddling with the strap of his bag. If he were to be honest, he would've told her that he was far too tired to even think. But he just couldn't do that. He had to come up with a better excuse than "not feeling it". Nothing. Chie pouted and her bouncing came to a gradual halt.

"You're no fun, Yosuke!" She whined, punching him in the arm a bit too hard. He winced, but did nothing to retaliate verbally—which is what he usually did. Chie didn't seem to be paying attention anyway; she was disappointed that she didn't have a training partner. "Fine. Maybe Souji'll feel up to it. Or Yukiko. Hmm..." Chie began to mumble to herself, bounding ahead of the other teen. Yosuke felt a sigh of relief crawl up from his lungs, but didn't allow it to come out as she moved on ahead.

"Is she wearing you out?" Yosuke felt his heart stutter in his chest, and he did a strange jerking maneuver to try and regain his composure. "Working on interpretive dancing?" The voice said with a laugh. Yosuke's cheeks flushed red.

"Yeah, I'm a fish out of water. How am I doing?" He looked at his best friend flatly. Souji only laughed more.

"Needs improvement, buddy." Souji patted him on the back as he fell in step with the flustered third year. Damn, even Souji was full of pep. Where were they getting it from? Yosuke needed to know. He was in need of whatever the hell it was that they were basking in.

"Mrff." When Yosuke couldn't come up with good retorts, he resorted to making odd noises. Souji laughed even more—is he high or something? Finally getting over whatever had gotten him so giddy, Souji returned to his usual calm self.

"Thom Yorke?" He pointed to the headphones hanging from Yosuke's neck. The shorter teen nodded in response.

"Yeah. Thanks for the music." Souji's taste in music was all over the place, yet the music he like was quite similar to the kind Yosuke liked. So whenever Souji got something new, something interesting to Yosuke, the other teen would ask (more like beg) for a mix CD. Never had there been a time in which Yosuke disliked even one of the songs. Souji really knew what he liked, to the point that Yosuke found it as...quite creepy. Almost stalker-like, actually.

"No problem. Glad you liked it." Souji smiled. "Ah, I had a feeling that you would like it anyway." Yeah, definitely creepy. Yosuke always wondered how and why Souji knew so much. Maybe he really was a stalker. Maybe he was a mind reader. There were so many things he could be—the possibilities were endless—and Yosuke had fun running the options through his racing mind. In fact, the other day he

"Are you feeling alright?" Yosuke was pulled out of his strange thoughts, and he cast his attention over to his friend. He gave Souji a look of confusion, as if he didn't understand what he was asking. "You seem tired." Yosuke tensed for the briefest of moments, praying that Souji didn't notice a thing. Yosuke had forgotten how perceptive their leader could be.

A lie. He needed a lie. He had to drive Souji away, he had to get him away from the topic of himself. Why exactly did he need to? Yosuke didn't know. The sinking feeling in his gut told him that he just had to.

"'m fine. Just a little trouble sleeping last night." Yosuke bluffed with a goofy grin. This earned him a dubious look from his friend. God, don't tell me he's that perceptive. Yosuke bit the inside of his cheek, clutching the strap of his bag so tightly he thought it would rip. He screamed on the inside for Souji to just let it drop—to move on with the day—as he tried to hide the obvious signs of his panicking. This was harder than he'd thought. After all, he'd begun to shiver. Even though it was slight, he feared the "all-knowing, all seeing" Souji would catch on. Yosuke prayed long and hard to whatever deity that existed out there he didn't.

"You always stay up so late!" Souji chuckled, shaking his head. Good. Either he'd decided to drop it, or maybe Souji really wasn't psychic—contrary to one of Yosuke's many odd beliefs. Playing along with his team mate, Yosuke stuck his tongue out.

"You should be talking!" He teased. Souji had become famous among his friends for staying up a bit too late. To ungodly hours, rather. It was strange, because despite that, he was always so energized for the day. It made absolutely no sense to Yosuke. Perhaps Souji was as perfect as everyone believed he was. Yosuke quelled the bubbling jealous that threatened to travel up from his stomach and out into the open. He forced a smile. "It's good to have you back," Yosuke paused, "partner." He added on in a genuine tone. Even though he was jealous, he was truly grateful to have Souji back at his side. He grinned, giving the taller male a sidelong glance. Souji blinked, surprised, and returned the smile. "It's good to be back."

Just as Yosuke had predicted earlier, the school day was beyond hellish. He got a lecture from his history teacher, and the length of his owed essay was doubled. He got every single question wrong from the math homework. He hadn't even completed half of it. He failed the pop quiz his English teacher sprung on the class—one on the short reading from the night before. Yosuke had passed the line of struggling. He was completely and utterly lost. In fact, one could say he was falling through the cracks. Along with the nagging feeling of being lost, he was frustrated. It also didn't help that he was overwhelmed by random waves of dizziness throughout the course of the day. Today wasn't his day at all.

As he was wallowing in the day's numerous failures, Souji approached him. "Want to eat lunch together?" He extended an arm. In his hand was that infamous bento box that Yosuke both adored and despised (on Souji's bad cooking days, that is). Upon seeing the box out of the corner of his eyes, Yosuke stopped rubbing his temples and stopped attempting to burn holes in his desk with his eyes.

"Huh? Oh, sure." He grinned awkwardly, shivering as he pushed himself out of his seat. "The usual place?" A nod. "Gotcha." They headed out the door and to the stairs, where Yosuke stopped abruptly. "Hey, do you...mind if I grab my player? Lunch will be more fun with some music." Souji smiled, telling Yosuke that he didn't mind at all if there was a little music as background noise. In fact, he said that he'd "quite enjoy it". Before he made his way up the stairs, he told Yosuke to hurry up, or his favourites would get cold. Yosuke shot back by sticking out his tongue for the second time that day.

Oh how he missed Souji's cooking! He could just picture Souji hovering in front of his stove, sweating ever-so slightly—eyes narrowed—as he concentrated on getting the recipe right. He could see Souji in an apron—stained here and there from his slight cooking mess ups—wiping that sweat from his brow, only to miss a curious droplet that made it's way down his neck. How Yosuke wished to chase that salty liquid with his eager tongue, trailing it lower and lower until he reached his chest, to run it curiously over his

Consciousness was fading fast. Yosuke stood before the stairs leading to the second floor, the corners of his vision darkening.. The dizziness fogged up his head completely, like the fog that had previously strangled Inaba, and it slowly wrapped around his brain in a choke-hold. He felt lighter and lighter, like he was floating (but he wasn't, rather, he was falling). Before he had the slightest chance to catch himself, he was out like a light. Luckily for him, Souji's friends from the sports clubs he'd joined last year were standing nearby. Daisuke was quick to react, catching Yosuke before he tumbled head first down the wooden stairs.

"Damn, that was too close!" He exclaimed, calling out for his friend to help him get the unconscious teen to the nurse's office. As they hurried down the stairs, it never once occurred to them to inform Souji of what had happened. They knew the two were the best of friends, but the thought never once crossed their minds.

Instead, Souji waited for a good fifteen minutes until he realized that the beef he'd prepared the night before was as cold as ice.

--

Cheesy cliffhanger, I know. Shoot me. It was the best place to cut off.

Anyway, this story is too long to have as a oneshot. I'm making it a multi-chaptered thing. Don't worry, most of it is already written. I just need to get the endings down. Yes, endingS. There will be two. The main, and the alternate.

I hope you enjoyed this so far. Reviews would be nice. ; A; I want to see where and how I can improve. And such. Mrrrr. A-anyway. I'll get to work on typing the second chapter up.

Mmyep. Keep your eyes peeled~