This is my interpretation of how this scene should have played out.
Post-Nanako's kidnapping
Sick
Yosuke had never seen that house so dead. It was amazing how the absence of such a small child could really haunt a house forever. It was early in the morning, the day after Nanako's abduction, and the group was supposed to meet at their secret headquarters and rescue her from the TV world. He knocked on the door, not surprised to hear there wasn't an answer. The door was unlocked, and so he let himself in.
"Souji!" No one answered. Yosuke immediately headed toward his room, where the door was slightly ajar. He was careful to tread lightly on the stairs, and opened the door even more cautiously, only to fall backwards in shock.
His room looked like it had been ransacked. His shelf had somehow managed to collapse onto the carpet, his couch now placed haphazardly in the middle of the room. His clothes were half out of his closet, his desk chair toppled over and his television screen down on what used to be his coffee table, and Yosuke could imagine Souji shaking the TV in frustration until it had fallen off the bureau. If he had been him, he knew he would've been up all night with his head through the TV, calling Nanako's name.
Books, magazines and various pencils, pens, and CDs littered the carpet, and in the far corner where the futon was supposed to be, he could see a bundle of blankets placed hastily on a crumpled figure. Souji's silver hair peeked out from the mess, his form wrapping around itself as if to shield itself from the cold and the fuzzy TV static and loneliness and silence that filled the house. Souji was shivering, his face looking as if he was experiencing something unpleasant. Yosuke could never have imagined this young man in this state; the one guy he looked up to in this rare moment of weakness and pity. The orange-haired boy couldn't bring himself to leave him like this; he waded through the debris, before kneeling in front of his best friend, who's eyes sprang open at the touch of his hand. His eyes were puffy, his knuckles scabbed where they had collided with something hard. It took a moment for him to realize it was morning, and Yosuke stepped back.
"You better get changed and stuff. I'll be waiting by the stairs."
"Yeah," was the simple, muted reply, barely audible from the silver-haired youth. Yosuke bit the inside of his cheek as he stepped outside, closing the door behind him. He could only imagine how hard it must've been for Souji to sleep last night. How could he; his uncle was in the hospital and his young cousin had been kidnapped just hours before. The guilt and worry and emotional stress must be so heavy on his mind and heart that he had to release it through a physical outlet. To see someone he so admired and respected in this state at the hands of such an awful turn of events made Yosuke want to retch.
He could not help the rush of bile coming up his throat as he rushed to the Dojima bathroom.