that's all she wrote!

look, ryuji didn’t like having to rely on cops for anything -- his experiences with them have always been a little less than great -- still, he didn’t really have much of a choice this time. fibonacci was huge and he honestly had no idea where he was going at this point... his only hope of finding his way outta there was by asking a police officer on patrol, even if said police officer looked like a serious stick-in-the-mud.

☆ . his townhouse was busy again. people were in it and active for the first time in a long while, so he can’t veg around all day. that’d look bad. so, even in the terrible mood he’s in, he forces himself outside. with the festival going on, he has absolutely no desire to go anywhere near that ward, so he’ll have to find something to do locally. he couldn’t brood in his room anymore. 

the festival is meant to celebrate the dead, right? those who went back to their homeworlds, disappeared from the island– they weren’t necessarily dead, right? either way, it felt like a timely blessing. someone he thought had just vanished– up and left, was standing right in front of him. it felt like forever. here he was, thinking he made no important connections in these cities besides two people, but he forgot the most important of them all. 

he nearly fell the fuck over at the impact of the track star, but he managed to stay grounded. arms wasted no time wrapping around the other in a crushingly tight grip. “ryuji–” he never uses people’s first names. he caught himself by surprise, but made no attempts to correct himself. “fuck.” such a way with words. he nestles his face right into the crook of his neck, trying his best to ignore tears that were already forming, even if his voice kind of gave it away. “ya’ better not let go, idiot.” he’s… happy. he’s so, so happy.

“c’mon, are ya seriously cryin’ over me?” hypocritical words for someone with tears streaming down his own cheeks. still, there's a bright ass smile on his face. he definitely isn’t the most observant guy in the world, but even he notices when leon calls him by his first name. with one arm still snugly wrapped around the other’s waist, he tangles his hand in his vibrant hair, gently running his fingers through the orange locks.

after a few moments of soaking it all in, he lets out a small laugh, “your goatee’s ticklin’ my neck, dude!” he doesn’t move an inch though -- he doesn’t want to. when he talks again, his tone’s quieter, sincere, “y’know... they took my memories of you when i got back home. it was effin’ annoying actually, feelin’ like i was missin’ somethin’ and not knowin’ what,” it makes him feel gross, realizing how easy it was to forget one of his closest friends, “but when i woke up here again, you were the only person i could think about... look, leon, i’m really sorry. for leavin’ ya, i mean.”

being the grade-a dingus that he was, of course ryuji would bump his forehead on a street sign as soon as he spotted a certain former-upperclassman of his during his daily jog. the collision was pretty hardcore, which explained why the blonde was now moaning in agony on the concrete. honestly, for people like ryuji, wearing a helmet all the time would probably prevent a lot of injuries...

“sh-shit, makoto!” he started to spring up from his spot on the ground before wincing from a new wave of head-throbs (standing up probably wasn’t a great idea at the moment). “gahhh... i’m just gonna... sit here for a lil’ bit...”

it wasn’t rare to see ryuji at a gym, it’d be more accurate to say it was routine for him. this was the first time he’d brought earbuds with him though, so now it was really go-time! pumping some iron, he was getting into the zone... enough in the zone to start singing along to his poppy teen idol music without realizing it, at least. it wasn’t something he talked about, mostly out of shame, but damn did he love a good bubbly pop song.

suddenly, mid-lyric... he stopped, slowly turning toward the man next to him in an internal (yet still obvious) panic. was he even looking? maybe, maybe not. either way, ryuji was mega embarrassed.

ryuji made a few pals during his last interdimensional voyage, sure, but there was one dude who took priority above all else: leon kuwata... an effin’ icon, tbh! it was almost scary how well the two vibed, of course his first instinct was gonna be to seek him out. seriously, they’d been through some rough shit together, he really hoped he was doing alright...

finding leon’s townhouse was pretty easy (ryuji had the number practically memorized), it was only pure luck that his bro-in-arms seemed to be leaving through the front door as soon as he arrived. almost like fate or something... if he believed in all that cheesy stuff, at least.

i still have a lot of icons to make BUT!!! now that im back in, like this post for a starter of varying length!!! 

non-sexual acts of dominance || not accepting

[ answer ] your muse answering a question meant for mine .

“hello, what would you like?”

finally! after a long ass wait, it was about time he got to the front of the line. for a small lemonade stand, the wait was almost unbearable. “alright, i’ll h--” 

non-sexual acts of dominance || not accepting

[ reverse!defend ]  my muse defending yours’ reputation , dignity , or safety for them .

“shit, look out!”

ryuji originally thought most people would move out of the way of a moving train, but apparently this pink-haired dude never got the memo... the poor guy looked like a deer in headlights.

non-sexual acts of dominance || not accepting

[ clean ]  your muse cleaning a smudge of something off mine’s cheek , forehead , etc .   feel free to specify what and how .

a hungry ryuji equals a messy ryuji. he’d invited nikkari to eat with him, but he wasn’t exactly being the best of hosts. nothing but the slurping of noodles could be heard among the boy as he tore into his bowl of ramen-- it’s not like he meant to ignore anyone, he was just too focused to care.