*shows up two days late with Trans!Souji AU*

So this is late; I meant to have it up this past Friday, but the damn thing just kept growing! As it stands, this fic is the longest one I've posted for this series so far. (22 pages, 10,110 words) Because of the length and because it took so long, I'm going to be posting this as a twoshot rather than the oneshot it was originally meant to be - which means I'm posting the first chapter today and the conclusion on Friday, bumping the first chapter of the main fic back just a little longer.

Sorry for the wait, I hope the length makes up for it~

Disclaimer: I do not own Persona 4, nor any of the characters/locations therein.

I Can't Help But Care

Chapter 1: I Over-Communicate and Feel Too Much

The sun has already started going down by the time they make it from Junes to the Dojima household, their tired bodies protesting the trek after spending the last several hours jacked on adrenaline and combat.

Yosuke sighs. The outline of the house against the darkening sky is a welcome sight; his limbs are sore and he's itchy from the sweat drying under his t-shirt, so right now all he wants is to take a nice hot shower and cuddle with his boyfriend. And food. Food would be good.

He looks over at where said boyfriend is sluggishly walking along beside him and catches another tiny wince crossing Souji's face. Yosuke feels his own face twitch in sympathy. "You okay?" he asks, voice quiet in the encroaching dusk.

Souji glances at him, lips quirking in the barest hint of a strained smile. He doesn't answer verbally, just gives a nod before suppressing a grimace as another step jostles him and makes his breath hitch.

Scratch that, Yosuke thinks with a frown, what he wants to do first is make sure Souji's taken care of.

They shuffle up to the front door like a pair of zombies. It takes a second, but Souji finally manages to dig his keys out of his pocket with clumsy fingers and get the door unlocked. He turns the handle and leans his weight on the door with his shoulder, letting the power of gravity do the rest of the work for him. In turn, Yosuke leans his own weight against Souji and the two of them go spilling into the entryway in the most graceless fashion imaginable. Yosuke doesn't even care if anybody saw – he just leans back against the door and pushes it shut again with his body weight. He lets himself sink to the floor with a groan and shuts his eyes.

"Maaaan," he drawls (not whines, he absolutely, definitely does not whine), "why'd they have to hit so hard today?"

Beside him he hears fabric rustling as Souji shifts, followed by the soft 'tap' of a shoe hitting the floor. Yosuke cracks his eyes open just a smidge, watching as his boyfriend shoves his shoes off to the side with his foot before moving to peel himself out of his uniform jacket with aching slowness. Souji's body is tense, his actions halting, and Yosuke pushes himself up a bit straighter to examine the other boy more closely.

Souji stands with his feet slightly apart, keeping his center of gravity lowered like he does in battle, except not nearly as extreme. His entire torso is rigid, his shoulders and back tight as he tries to get his jacket off with as little movement from the waist up as possible. He grunts as he slides one of his arms out, the motion seeming to pull at his side in a way that hurts him.

Yosuke bites his lip. "You sure you're okay, bro?"

Souji looks over his shoulder at him as best he can without actually turning any part of his upper body. "I'm fine," he breathes – and the way he says it sounds most certainly not fine.

Yosuke raises his eyebrows.

Souji seems to catch just how not fine his voice sounds because he huffs out something vaguely like a self-depreciating laugh before confessing, "I… my ribs kind of hurt a little."

Guilt slices through Yosuke like his kunai through a shadow and, aches and pains be damned, he sits upright so fast his joints pop. He opens his mouth to apologize but before he can get a word out, Souji's cutting him off.

"No don't– I'm fine, Yosuke. Please don't apologize." Souji's face screws up in that worried way of his and Yosuke knows, he knows that Souji is feeling guilty about Yosuke feeling guilty.

But Yosuke is having none of it. He pushes himself up off the door to his feet – only wobbling a tiny bit as his thighs burn – and reaches out to gently tug the other sleeve off his boyfriend's arm. "I just… I couldn't help it, you know?" he says softly, a little sadly. He wants to do what he normally does, which is to loudly contest Souji's concern and apologize anyway, but he's worn out and he knows Souji's worn out and right now it just seems a better use of both their time for him to act rather than talk.

Souji sighs. "…I know. I can't say anything, though; as much as I hate it when you take a hit for me – when any of you do it," and here he tilts his head to give Yosuke a firmer, more pointed look that evaporates the exhaustion from his features for a millisecond before he softens, "I'd do the same for you."

"I know you would." Yosuke leans in and brushes his lips against the corner of Souji's mouth. One hand comes to rest gently against the small of his partner's back, the other reaches up to catch one of Souji's hands and curl their fingers together. Souji hums against him and Yosuke nuzzles his jaw before leaning their foreheads together. He watches through half-lidded eyes as Souji closes his own, a faint, contented smile stretching into existence over his face.

They stay that way for a moment, sharing warmth and space in the quiet of the entryway. The house beyond is silent; Nanako is spending the night at a friend's house while Dojima works himself to an early grave like he always does. There is no true darkness, though, as the last remnants of fading sunlight pour into the windows and bathe the world in ambers and golds. It's like a moment suspended in time, just for them, and Yosuke pointedly pushes from his mind the memory of tackling Souji to the ground, narrowly avoiding being hit himself, as one last tricky little shadow had popped up from behind its fallen comrade and attacked while their leader's attention had been elsewhere.

He'd do it again in a heartbeat.

He feels Souji start to droop and nuzzles him again. "Hey,' he murmurs, "you should head on up. I'm gonna order dinner."

Souji shifts, bleary eyes blinking up at him. "There's food here…"

"Yeah, no, you're passing out on me, I'm not letting you cook right now." He grins at his boyfriend's flat look and nudges him carefully with his shoulder – making sure not to move Souji too sharply lest he hurt him.

Souji huffs but doesn't argue. Instead he readjusts his weight and leans away to stand on his own again. The next breath he exhales is a little stuttered, his expression a little tight, and Yosuke uses the hand on Souji's back to keep him steady as he steps the rest of the way into the house. He's just starting to toe his own shoes off when Souji turns slightly to give him one last glance.

"You want the first shower?"

Yosuke shakes his head. "Nope! You need it more than I do, Partner." He makes a shooing motion with his free hand while the other he very deliberately shoves into his pocket to dig out his phone. "I'll catch up in a minute."

Souji's shoulders relax just a fraction – just enough that only Yosuke, who knows what to watch for, would be able to catch it – before he gives in with a grateful smile. "Get whatever," he says, easing his wallet out and handing it over, despite Yosuke giving him A Look. He huffs a laugh. "You bought last time."

They stare at each other for a moment, Yosuke decidedly not taking Souji's wallet and Souji's eyebrows climbing higher and higher towards his hairline. Eventually, (because goddamnit, Souji) Yosuke relents and takes the wallet with a long-suffering sigh.

He does his best to imitate his boyfriend's earlier flat look and thinks he nearly nails it dead on. Souji, in turn, just smirks and steps further into the house and towards the stairs.

Yosuke watches him until he's out of sight before lolling his head back and making a noise of deep exasperation at the ceiling. He's so weak for his boyfriend, what the hell?

)()()()()()(

It's a good few minutes later when Yosuke wanders up the stairs after his partner. His shoes are off, dinner has been ordered, and Souji's probably soaking his sore muscles, so there isn't really a hurry to get to the second floor. Except for possibly getting the chance to catch a glimpse of Souji in a towel, because even dead on his feet Yosuke is a healthy teenage boy and his boyfriend is naked in the same house as him, so really, he can't be blamed for his mind slipping to dirtier places upon occasion – even if he'd never act of anything until Souji was comfortable.

Distracted by the thought of Souji in the shower, it takes Yosuke far too long to notice that he doesn't actually hear the sound of running water. He's nearly at the landing before he realizes that he doesn't hear much of anything at all. "Partner?" he calls, stamping down on the instinctive flare of worry in his gut.

There's a faint noise from Souji's bedroom, a hiss of breath, and Yosuke feels himself going on alert. He hurries up the last couple of steps and strides over to where the door to Souji's room stands ajar. He raps his knuckles against the wood – once, twice, thrice – out of courtesy.

"Dude, you okay?"

A pained huff is his only response for a moment and Yosuke chews his lip.

Then, "…I'm stuck."

This makes Yosuke pause. He doesn't know what Souii means by that, but it's clear his partner needs a hand. Then again, Souji is still nervous being around him in any state of undress that involves his waist downward. Depending on how much clothing Souji has already shed, Yosuke's presence could very well do more harm than good. The last thing he wants is to make Souji uncomfortable – or worse – so despite how badly he wants to rush to his partner's aid, Yosuke forces himself to stay put until he's given the okay.

"Can I come in?" he asks.

There is a beat of silence before Souji responds. When he does, his voice is strained, aggravated, and more than a little embarrassed. "…Please do."

Yosuke immediately pushes the door open and steps inside.

He is greeted by the sight of Souji in the middle of the room in his underwear and not much else. His pants have been kicked off to the side, his shirt a puddle of fabric on the floor by his feet next to his discarded jacket. Souji himself is flushed in the face and shaking slightly, though whether it's from pain, frustration, or the chill on his exposed skin is hard to tell. He stands with his arms wrapped around his waist, fists clenched, and his expression as he looks over at Yosuke is nothing short of done.

It takes Yosuke another few seconds to spot the tight, flesh-colored fabric covering his boyfriend's upper torso.

"I can't lift my arms up high enough," Souji is saying, and Yosuke snaps his attention up to Souji's face.

Souji gives the fabric in his grasp a weak tug for emphasis. "Could you…? If I could just…" He shifts like he's trying to scoot the fabric up past his ribcage, wincing a moment later and flattening his elbows against his sides. He sighs. "I should have splurged on that one with a zipper," he mutters bitterly to himself.

Oh.

Oh!

Yosuke's tired brain kicks back in and the second the words "could you" are out of Souji's mouth, Yosuke is moving towards him. He reaches his side and stops, hands hovering near Souji's wrists uncertainly.

It isn't just that he's not sure what he should be doing; given a bit more instruction he'd be just fine. No, it's the fact that Souji is shirtless and wants Yosuke to help him get more shirtless that has his head short-circuiting. Is this a breach of boundaries? Should he close his eyes? He knows where the line is in regards to anything lower than Souji's hipbones, but they haven't really talked much about Souji's chest. And yeah, he's seen Souji in his binder before, but only once, and only briefly.

Yosuke's been trying to avoid asking Souji potentially painful questions about his body ever since the "I Hate Everything About Myself From the Waist Down" conversation. He would rather cut his own dick off than see Souji have to go through something like that again.

Licking his suddenly dry lips, Yosuke twitches his fingers nervously at the hem of his boyfriend's binder. He chooses his words carefully before he speaks. "What do you need me to do?" he finally settles on, keeping his voice low and gentle.

Souji whines softly. It sounds more like a high, throaty hum, but Yosuke has heard it before and recognizes it for what it is.

"If you could help me get it over my head…"

Yosuke chews his lip in thought. "Can you bend forward? Will your ribs let you do that?"

"I can try."

Souji drops his hands to his sides and Yosuke takes half a step back to give him room. Haltingly, and with no small amount of effort, Souji manages to duck his head and shoulders towards Yosuke, who gingerly takes hold of the edge of the binder.

"Ready?" he asks.

Souji hums.

"Okay." Yosuke tightens his hold on the fabric and tenses. "I'll pull up, you slide back."

Carefully, so, so carefully, Yosuke starts to tug the binder upwards, letting it curl over itself as it travels up the length of his partner's torso. He keeps a sharp watch for any sign that he's going too quickly, too roughly, but other than the way Souji's breath stutters as he bends further down there is nothing.

As the binder reaches just below Souji's pecs, Yosuke hesitates. "Uh, Partner?" he starts, swallowing as his boyfriend tilts his head back up as best he can from his half-folded position. A silvery eyebrow quirks in silent question.

"Is this… Should I look away or something? Are you okay with this?" A bit late now, Yosuke thinks to himself, considering he's got Souji essentially trapped with his spine bent as his arms partly crossed between them.

Souji huffs – not quite a laugh, not quite a noise of disbelief. "As much as I appreciate that," he says with a crooked half-smile, "at this point I just want the thing off."

Yosuke is about to retort when Souji's face suddenly melts from eternally-patient to something darker, more anguished and worried with that dusting of self-dislike that Yosuke would give anything to take away. "I mean," he starts, near a whisper, "you can look away, if this is going to be too weird—"

"N-no!"

Souji blinks at Yosuke's outburst – hell, even Yosuke is a little startled at the sudden sound of his own voice. He only wastes a second on it, though, because he can practically hear the gears turning in his partner's head and he knows what path Souji's anxious mind is going to try and go down. He takes a quick breath.

"It's not like that. It's just…" Yosuke licks at his lips, buying time as his words form. "You're perfect to me, you know that, right?" He sees Souji's eyes widen incredulously. Yosuke takes it as a good sign. "But if there's something you aren't ready for me to see yet, then I'm not gonna look."

Souji just stares at him, his eyes wide and intense under the fall of his hair. Seconds pass in silence until Souji finally lets out a long, slow breath through his nose. He ducks his head, tucking his chin into his collarbone, and brings his arms up so that his shoulders are at their narrowest. "Pull," he instructs, and his voice has lost its nervous edge. For the briefest of moments he is Leader, not Souji.

Yosuke has no choice but to obey.

Twisting his fists so that the hem of the binder is wound as securely in his hold as he can get it, Yosuke braces himself and tugs. Souji pulls backwards sharply, digging the balls of his feet into the floor and taking a single, definitive step away from Yosuke. The binder peels away from his skin like a molting snake and as soon as it's cleared his head he's standing up straight and tugging his arms back down. The binder catches on Souji's elbows, slipping from Yosuke's hands, and folds – upside down – over Souji's chest, hiding it from view.

The action is not kind to Yosuke's partner. Souji gasps in both relief and pained shock as he rights himself, goose bumps rising visibly across his skin as every inch of still-drying sweat from under the binder is exposed to the air. He nearly doubles back over, teetering unsteadily as he tilts his head towards the ceiling and making a low, gravelly noise behind clenched teeth. "Oh my god!"

Once again, Yosuke is out of his depth here. He hovers, taking an aborted step in his boyfriend's direction, and waits.

Eventually, Souji evens himself out. He's shaking harder now and his face is screwed up in an obvious grimace, but he's free from his binder and the earlier mix of frustration and desperation is finally gone. He slumps, looking up at Yosuke through the grey curtain of his hair. "Thank you," he breathes. "Holy shit…"

Yosuke takes this as a sign that all is (mostly) well and finishes taking that step closer. "You good?"

Souji nods. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm good." He scowls down at the beige fabric still wrapped around his arms as though he wants to burn a hole through it with his eyes. He stands there for a second, likely thinking, before he glances back up at Yosuke and seems to come to a decision. With a huff – one that is definitely not a laugh this time – he slides his right arm out of the constricting wad of cloth.

"My chest is… better." He sighs. River-water eyes flick between Yosuke and the binder, a bit of pink coming to dust across the bridge of Souji's nose. "…Than my…" He makes a vague gesture with his free hand towards the black boxer-briefs sitting low on his hips. "…Everything else."

Souji quickly clears his throat and moves his hand back up to keep the binder pressed against him. He lifts his head to look Yosuke in the eyes. "It doesn't bother me as much as the rest of it does." He chuckles softly, breathily, and the corners of his mouth lift in a tired, weak smile. "I'm lucky; there's really not enough up here to count for anything. It's easy to hide." And with that, Souji lets his hands drop and tosses the binder off to the side. It lands on the couch with a muffled 'plop.'

Yosuke feels his stomach bottom out.

This should be a milestone between them. Under nearly any other circumstance he would be thrilled that Souji is finally starting to be comfortable enough around him to be completely shirtless in the same room because all he ever wants is for Souji to feel safe, to be happy. But instead of honored, (like he always is when Souji trusts him with something like this) or sappy, (like he always is whenever Souji smiles) Yosuke finds himself bordering on horrified.

"Souji."

The other boy startles a little, blinking at Yosuke with a slowly furrowing brow.

Yosuke knows how he sounded just then, is fully aware of how cold he probably seems as he stares blatantly at his best friend, his boyfriend, his partner's chest. He knows; the dread in his lungs is too heavy for him too care. "How long have you been wearing that?"

"Uhm. All day?" Souji tilts his head, expression darkening, closing off, and his arms rise just slightly – likely unconsciously – as if making to cover himself, to hide. He frowns and his eyes turn to steel. "Why?" he asks. Calm. Too calm. The way he says it makes the single syllable frost over and drip with defensive chill.

A wolf backed into a corner, teeth on full display.

Yosuke feels numb. All day. Souji had been wearing his binder the entire day. And even as he tries to scour his brain for a memory of any time during the day that Souji might have been able to slip away and change his clothes, Yosuke knows there isn't one. They'd walked together to school that morning, ate together at lunch, headed straight into the tv after school, and then walked back together afterwards. They've been together the entire time.

That's what makes Yosuke sick to his stomach. They've been together the entire time – and that's the thing; ever since Izanagi's dungeon Yosuke has known that Souji wears a binder. He's known but he keeps forgetting, and now, staring at the harsh, angry red lines that have etched the outline of Souji's binder into his flesh, the places where the chafing and the marring almost looks bad enough to be mistaken for blood just below the skin, Yosuke hates that he forgets.

What kind of boyfriend is he that he just lets his best friend nearly tear his own body apart?

But that's not even the worst of it. The way Souji'd been in visible pain as he moved before, every little jostle of his torso making him hiss and wince; it's deeper than just the welting marks and the patches of irritation that damn near look like they've been sandpapered. Yosuke's stomach rolls as he remembers how he'd tackled Souji to the ground only hours ago. He'd landed on top of him, knocking he wind out of Souji's lungs for a moment as the shadow's claws slashed through the empty space above them where Souji's head had just been. Oh god.

…oh GOD.

It clicks. It clicks in the worst way possible and Yosuke's breath leaves him like he's been punched. "You wore that inside the tv," he accuses, a realization, not a question. "You fought in that. Souji, you fought in your binder?!"

Souji looks like he wants to retort, to snap his wolf teeth and bite back out of fear, but there is also confusion in his eyes. Like Yosuke's earlier question didn't lead where Souji had thought it would, (and Yosuke can hear Izanagi's manic, mournful voice in the back of his memory: "If you ever found out, you would hate me!") and now he's not sure where to direct his mounting panic. Souji rocks back on one of his heels, shoulders hunching as he adopts a stance that loosely resembles the one he uses in battle.

"I always do," he says, flat and frigid. The ice in his voice is betrayed, however, by the way his arms come up to cross just over the swell of his chest.

"You always—!" Yosuke cuts himself off before his horror results in him yelling. He runs a hand through his hair, curls it tight around his fingers, and looks at his friend with every ounce of dismay he feels. "Your ribs. Partner, I tackled you!"

Souji barks a humorless laugh. "I didn't really have anything to do with that."

The laugh is good – the laugh means Souji's not so far behind his walls that he can't be reached. Yosuke's head is swimming. There are a hundred things chasing themselves around and around inside his brain and he can't get the ones out that he wants to say. He's never been as good with words as Souji.

As Yosuke scrambles for the right way to voice his fears, Souji must finally decide he isn't about to be verbally attacked or rejected like he thought he was, because the battle stance eases up slightly. He still stands with his arms draped slackly across his chest, eyeing Yosuke warily, but the fight-or-flight appears to have subsided at least a little.

His voice is still guarded, though, when he says, "It's not a big deal, Yosuke."

Which is exactly the wrong thing to say.

Yosuke gapes at him. "Not a big—The hell?! You're in pain; why would you wear your binder in the tv?"

The look Souji gives him is a mix of many different things – incredulity not the least of them. "Why do you think?" he scoffs. "They may be an A-cup, but they're still there."

"No, that's! DUDE!"

"Look," Souji cuts in, once again trying to end the conversation before Yosuke can manage to put his argument in order. "It's fine. I've been doing this all year and I'm fine. Besides…" and here he glances away for a moment, carefully schooling his expression. "Naoto wears their binder in the tv."

Ohhhhh no. No way is Yosuke letting Souji deflect like that. He must be running out of ways to say he's "fine", because Yosuke is pretty sure the tactic Souji just tried to employ is him scraping at the bottom of the proverbial barrel.

"No, they don't," Yosuke says, knowing full well he's right. "They double up on sports bras when we're about to go fight monsters. Besides…" He bites out the last word, throwing it back to emphasize his point. "Naoto isn't a melee fighter."

A stunned silence follows. Souji blinks at him, stormy eyes wide, and Yosuke idly wonders if the other boy's face is starting to hurt. Souji has emoted more in just the past hour or so than Yosuke has seen him do in a week.

It's Souji that breaks the quiet. His tongue darts out to lick at his lower lip – a habit he's apparently picked up from Yosuke, unless he's just never been outwardly nervous enough for it to happen where anyone can see. When he speaks his voice is tiny, shaky; the shield he hides himself behind lowered for now. "H-how do you know?"

"They use a gun, bro."

Souji shakes his head. "No. I mean, how do you know what they wear inside the tv?"

"Because I asked them." Yosuke sighs, shifting his weight lower now that the tension has started to bleed out of the room. He crosses his arms and leans back on his heels. "After Izanagi…" he starts hesitantly. He wants to pick his words wisely; Souji nearly walled him out a few minutes ago and Yosuke adamantly wants to avoid that happening again. He's Souji's Safe Place, his anchor – both his and Izanagi's words – and Yosuke will do everything he possibly can to not break Souji's trust.

He starts again. "After everything, when we got you home and you were still out of it, I went and talked to Naoto. They gave me a bunch of websites to check out on like, what to do to be supportive and how not to say stupid shit that might hurt you."

Memories of things he's said in the past flit across his brain and Yosuke lowers his eyes for a moment to ride out the twinge of shame and guilt. Even if he hadn't known at that time, even if he would never have said half the things he did if he'd even thought it might have made Souji sad or uncomfortable, he can't change that he'd been a complete asshole for the entire first half their friendship. No matter how much he'd like to go back in time and slap himself.

When Yosuke looks up again Souji is watching him with a soft kind of knowing in his eyes. It's familiar and so very Souji that Yosuke almost laughs in relief. There'shis Partner – patient and empathetic to a fault, even when Yosuke's being stupid.

Although technically, Yosuke thinks, out of the two of them it was Souji that made the more questionable decisions this time.

Sweeping away the bout of self-depreciation, Yosuke schools his features back to chiding. "The internet also told me one way I could help was making sure you didn't wear your binder for more than eight hours." He raises his eyebrows pointedly and is secretly pleased when Souji's expression turns just a little bit guilty. "And that you should never exercise in it."

"I don't—"

"Pretty sure fighting counts as exercise, dude."

Souji's patented Flat Look ™ returns. They stare at each other for a minute – Yosuke holding his ground and Souji holding his gaze despite how hard it must be to do so.

The stand off ends with a soft, nearly inaudible puff of breath as Souji laughs silently. He closes his eyes and shakes his head minutely, looking fond and slightly disbelieving when he looks back up at Yosuke and smiles. "You voluntarily researched binder safety?"

Yosuke immediately feels himself flush. "Well yeah!" he sputters, not a little indignant. "Considering I know two people now that wear them."

Souji's shoulders shake a little as his silent laughter gets harder. The smile stretches just the tiniest bit, like he's holding the sound back behind his lips. The fondness in his expression grows brighter – a hint of something proud lacing the edges of it.

But the warmth Yosuke usually feels from a look like that is tempered, dampened, and he runs a hand through his hair with one corner of his mouth drawing downwards in a frown. "Not that it really matters if I completely space that my boyfriend might be wearing it to fight in."

Souji doesn't respond.

In the quiet, Yosuke takes a second to trail his eyes back over the harsh red marks outlining his partner's torso. Some of them are blocked by Souji's arms, but he can see the worst of them – up along Souji's collar bones, across the soft parts of his shoulders, just below his armpits.

Shit.

It's then that Yosuke realizes that Souji is, in fact, still standing almost naked in the middle of the room after being on his feet for hours, with ribs that are probably still aching from being squeezed into a binder all day.

He takes a step forward, keeping his movements slow and watching Souji carefully to make sure the other boy is okay with being approached. When Souji makes no indication that the action is unwanted, Yosuke closes the distance between them and reaches out. He doesn't touch though, just lets his hands hover over the raised red line running along his boyfriend's right shoulder. "Do they hurt?" he whispers.

Souji sighs quietly through his nose. "A little. More irritating than anything."

Yosuke tentatively touches his fingertips to the unmarred part of Souji's shoulder – making sure not to accidentally brush the damaged skin. "What about your ribs?"

He feels Souji shift experimentally, catches the wince on the other boy's face as he does. "Yeah," Souji breathes, "those still hurt."

Amber-colored eyes lift to seek out stormy grey. He chews at his lip for a moment before asking, "Is it from me slamming into you or…?"

A gentle hand comes to rest on one of Yosuke's elbow as Souji glances down at the fingers on his shoulder. "Probably. But they were already sore to begin with."

Well. That doesn't really alleviate Yosuke's guilt, but at least he isn't the sole cause of Souji's injury. Not that he feels any better about having aggravated it. Still, cause or not, Yosuke doesn't like that Souji is still in pain, and anything he can do to make it even marginally better, he's going to do it. He knows he'll probably blame himself – for not noticing sooner, for ramming straight into Souji's ribcage – until Souji's pain is gone and the red on his skin is healed, but for now he'll do whatever Souji needs him to do.

He leans in, brings his forehead to touch against Souji's and lets his eyes slip to half-lidded. Souji mimics him, nuzzling their noses together as he hums softly.

"Hey," Yosuke whispers.

Souji meets his gaze.

"How can I help?"

There is a moment of quiet between them. He watches Souji watching him, flicks his eyes downwards as Souji's lips part to answer him…

There is a loud knock on the front door.

They pull apart with a startle. For a good few seconds they just stare over at the hallway beyond Souji's doorway – Souji blinking like an owl and Yosuke trying to reorient himself with reality. It takes him an embarrassingly long time to remember that, oh yeah, he ordered takeout.

Souji seems to come to the same conclusion because he takes another step away from Yosuke and smiles, nodding towards the door. "You should get that."

Yosuke nods dumbly and absently pats his back pocket to make sure he still has Souji's wallet.

His boyfriend exhales, short but audible, and moves – stiffly – to grab his neatly folded sweatpants off the desk. "And I should… probably go shower." He glances over at Yosuke questioningly, which Yosuke answers with a shake of his head.

"All yours, Partner."

Souji gives him a nod.

They leave the bedroom together; Yosuke heading for the stairs and, subsequently, the front door, and Souji following him out before veering off in the direction of the bathroom with his change of clothes held tightly against his chest.

Fic and chapter titles are taken from 'Feelings' by Hayley Kioko