"Why don't you call me by my first name, hm, Yusuke-kun?"
Yusuke turns his eyes away from the sketchbook in which he has been absently doodling, giving Akechi a perplexed look. "You are my upperclassman, after all, thus I find it proper to show you the respect you deserve." For some reason, that causes Akechi to laugh. Yusuke watches how his chest moves under the white shirt, how the gloved fingers briefly tighten on the bed sheets; takes note of defined muscles of Akechi's bared forearm.
"Excuse me for that," Akechi finally says, a smile still lingering on his face, "but, ah, isn't Nijima-san also your upperclassman? Yet you called her Makoto, just like the rest of our– your group." He tilts his head. "That doesn't exactly add up, Yusuke-san." Another chuckle. "Yusuke. And I have yet to bring up our relationship."
"Hm, I cannot say you're incorrect, taking into account all that you said." Yusuke sets his pencil down and closes the sketchbook. Now that Akechi has gotten him distracted, there's little purpose in attempting to draw. "So be it, Goro."
Two syllables. They feel harsher, harder to pronounce, unlike the three of Akira's name which glided smoothly off his tongue. Yusuke clenches his fists, instinctively suppressing the hollowness of grief. When he looks up, Akechi's– Goro's eyes are on him, and he sees something akin to bitterness in them. As if Goro knew who was on his mind.
"That wasn't that difficult, see?" Goro says, almost gently, getting up from the bed and crossing the narrow dorm room to reach Yusuke. He places a kiss on the underside of Yusuke's jaw, then another on the column of his throat, and Yusuke can't help but throw his head back, lean into the touch and let out a gasp. Goro pulls away from his neck and presses their mouths together, and Yusuke wraps his arms around Goro's back, fingernails digging in.
He wants this to last as long as possible.
He feels sickened.
Without breaking away, Goro pulls Yusuke to his feet and guides him to the bed, where they collapse, limbs tangled, Goro's sleek form on top of Yusuke, and every single shared breath makes Yusuke want to scream.
Goro isn't Akira. He isn't even close to an imitation of him, yet Yusuke lets all of this (skin, teeth, warmth) to continue. And he doesn't want it to cease.
"Stop," he whispers hoarsely into Goro's mouth, "stop."
To his credit, Goro does move away, with a curious expression on his handsome face. "What's wrong?"
"N-Nothing." Yusuke props himself up on his elbow. "I think I just n-need a moment of pause."
Goro tsk's. "And here I was believing that we agreed not to lie to each other." He laughs again. It doesn't sound pleasant. "I mean, if you merely got uneasy, that's perfectly understandable, but, ah, that wasn't the case, now was it."
"Perhaps," Yusuke says softly. Without realizing, he reaches out for Goro's hand and, before interlacing their fingers, peels off the glove. "Perchance it was because I thought about the ocean of blood you have spilled."
That does make Goro twitch, but he doesn't withdraw his hand – yet he does untangle himself until he's sitting on the bed with his legs crossed. Yusuke mirrors his position and, after a bit of thought, rests his head on Goro's shoulder.
Finally, Goro speaks up. "I have no godly idea what you are babbling about."
"Weren't you accusing me of lying just a minute ago?" Yusuke points out, but his voice lacks heat. "Is this how it's going to be? Untruths and… and ire?" He doesn't say, and hatred. He doesn't think he's capable of feeling such a strong emotion, even for Madarame, let alone Goro.
"What do you mean by 'this'?" Goro asks, his voice surprisingly uneven, as if taken off guard. Yusuke sighs.
"I mean us," he states simply. "If there has ever been any semblance of us."
"I don't know." And this doesn't come across as being a lie. He sounds as exhausted as Yusuke feels. "To answer all of your questions – I frankly don't know."
Yusuke closes his eyes. "Me neither," he admits, and it feels like defeat.
For the first time in months, he finds himself on the brink of tears.