He's not crying he's not crying he's not fukken crying he's... okay, fine, he's crying, just a little. Y-yeah, that's it. Yoshiro's unresponsiveness is... strange, given how emotional he's been, but a stoic Yoshiro is easier to deal with than a crying one? Probably? Ugh, he doesn't know, he never has, he's still awful at this but he's too fucking stubborn to ask for help again. Christ, he's an awful fr--
His self-deprecating train of thought is derailed by a gently but clumsy dab at his face. What is his roommate doing. What the fuck. That's... that's so sweet. The big dummy almost tears up at this too, but blinks rapidly to try and dispel it. "Thanks, Y-Yoshiro3..." he mumbles, a shaky smile working its way onto his face.
... Only to fall immediately. Oh. This again... fuck, he's still not sure how to handle it. It's obvious that Yoshiro's clinging desperately onto this notion, that his best friend and his boyfriend and everyone else they'd lost weren't actually... you know... murdered horribly. It's still something he doesn't like to think about, yeah, no shit, but... he honestly can't imagine how bad it is for the barista, only that it's bad.
He reaches a hand around and awkwardly pats/rubs Yoshiro's back. Please stop being sad. No such luck. Continuing the hopefully comforting motion, Shinsuke realizes that he really, really needs to address the elephant in the room. "I... don't know." Master orator, etc. "Like... I w-wanna believe it, I r-really do, but... I don't really, sniffle snort, understand how, y'know...?" But on the other hand, it's blatantly giving the other boy a sense of hope, or at the very least, not crushing depression. He bites his lip before coughing quietly.
"Yoshiro3..." he whispers, drawing back to look at the poor guy. "I... I don't think I do, like... I dunno. I-I think you were backed into a corner, a-and you were, snuffle, scared, n shit. I... I think they'd understand."