There are days when Juudai is hard to read and nobody really knows how to handle him. For someone considered as the star of Duel Academia, he sure seems pretty burned out. He sits at the edge of the cliff, a pile of weary bones clumped together into a fetal position, shoulders sagged and gaze downcast at the sea. A part of Johan feels that if he is any less careful, Juudai will fall apart in front of him.
Now that Johan's thought about it, he doesn't recall Juudai ever coming to him one day, silent, wordlessly asking to be held. Juudai has probably never grasped the concept before, never stopped to think about the path he's walking until the universe stops him dead in his tracks and crushes him with the unimaginably heavy responsibility of wielding the Gentle Darkness. That's why Johan waits. When Johan sits down next to him and Juudai doesn't create space, when Johan softly asks him what's wrong and Juudai doesn't reply, Johan doesn't take it against himself. He allows Juudai to keep staring at the sea - an entity too encompassing, too impossible for a boy like him to even contain, yet has no choice but to swallow it whole because his destiny is tied to his past life.
Johan doesn't prod about the Dark World. He doesn't bring up Haou or Yubel or being possessed by the latter. He wants to secure Juudai to the present where his friends are still waiting for him to come home. For the real Juudai to return to them, whose eyes used to carry starlight and fire - so full of passion and confidence that it practically blinded everyone around him to follow his lead.
But neither of them are no match for things beyond their control - even the Supreme King can't run away from himself. Although Juudai won't admit it, a part of him is clinging onto his raw humanity like it's his last hope to find pure happiness. To not live as Haou, not part Yubel, but simply as him, Yuuki Juudai, a small town boy with big dreams and comic book heroes.
Juudai doesn't seem to remember how to be himself anymore, though, and Johan can taste his uncertainty like the ocean salt. Yet Juudai chooses to be cruel with himself. "I'm going to face the world alone," he once told Johan, sounding so sure of his words. "It's the only way. It's part of my journey to become an adult."
Johan has never been more eager to be part of a sweet contradiction.
"Juudai," Johan says, carefully, "look at me."
Johan doesn't flinch at the heterochromatic gaze. He wants to see it as a mark of growth, not some unwanted mutation. Because despite everything, Johan's heart still beats for Juudai.
"You're still you. You will always be you. Maybe you've changed a little, but you're still you."
Juudai continues to stare at him warily, almost as if he views Johan as a potential threat. After a few minutes pass, his eyes turn back to their normal brown and soften with familiarity.
Without so much as a word, Juudai closes the space between them and lets his head drop on Johan's shoulder.
The two of them listen to the sound of the crashing waves for the rest of the afternoon.