— the events of the past month seem unreal. alas, the exhaustion aching in yusuke’s bones - in his very mind - serves as proof that the ordeals transpired. with his awakening, yusuke’s world came crashing down upon him. now, he must rebuild it from scratch. he is no longer locked away; the chains binding him to his atelier have been cast aside, smelted into freedom. and yet, he finds himself afraid of such freedom… how foolish. ever since madarame was taken away by the police - still sobbing out apologies - yusuke has felt little but fear. one would think that he would be relieved. alas, his mind offers him no such peace, and the silence within his home has been deafening. he tries to stay outside as much as possible. he is in a daze when he hears a familiar voice calling out to him.
“…ryuji.” yusuke nods in lieu of a greeting. “i’ve been well.” an obvious lie - though yusuke hopes that ryuji will not pick up on the tiredness within his voice. “…the police visited my home, earlier. i’m too young to stay there alone, so i’m to take up residency elsewhere.” he trails off, unsure of how open he should be. he is most grateful to the phantom thieves - including ryuji, of course. to let them know that he is struggling, after everything that has happened… it seems wrong. “kosei has offered to take me in. i can stay in the dormitories once i maintain my scholarship.” he will have to create art like never before… yet another worry, as, for the first time in his life, yusuke finds himself rather disgusted with the world of professional art. “ah - pardon me. how are you? i’m sure recent events have put quite a strain on you, too.”
he’s tired. it’s the first thing that ryuji picks up on once they’re face to face, and he’s had a chance to hear the other’s side of the story -- to hear that his life has essentially come crashing down around him, that everything he’s found a sense of security in has been taken from him. tired eyes, tired posture; perhaps the tone of voice is difficult to differentiate, being that yusuke’s voice always had something of a monotonous quality to it, but the difference was there. one just had to look. or, perhaps, one just had to have spent enough time with the other to be able to detect subtle differences; ryuji couldn’t claim that he was quite there yet, nor could he claim to be the most perceptive. all the same, though, he’s unsettled. something doesn’t sit quite right.
they’d done the right thing in exposing madarame for the fraudulent thief that he was; of this much, at least, ryuji is certain. if they’d been granted the chance to do it over again, to do it differently, the blond would refuse without so much as a second thought. his unease has nothing to do with the older man’s fate, nor the shadow that they faced ( though, admittedly, its smug nature and flippancy still ticked him off ). no. it had to do instead with the mess it left in its wake. with the kosei student standing before him, now without a mentor and barely with a place to stay. left only with uncertainties, an unknown future, a malignant fear of whatever lay ahead.
they -- the phantom thieves -- had brought him peace, in a sense. but had they also not brought him catastrophe? his stomach twists. he shakes it off.
“ me? “ he wants to talk about him? “ i’m fine, i guess -- ‘ same shit, different day ‘, right? school’s school, th’ news is the news ... “ uncertainty. perhaps a little awkwardness. he’d never been the consoling type, so he cannot claim to be very proficient at it -- if he’s proficient in the language of sympathy at all. “ ... i guess it’s not all that important though, huh? not when you’ve got all this stuff goin’ on. madarame’s been apprehended, the cops’re shutting the atelier down for good. ... i mean, it’s -- it’s gotta be hard. damn hard. “
i know the feeling. the words die on his tongue when he decides to change the subject, uncomfortable with the solemn, serious air that had fallen between them. “ but, uh, hey -- kosei’s dorms? pretty sweet, from what i’ve heard. and you’ll be livin’ with other students, yeah? ‘s way better than being on your own. y’should see if you can bunk up with some of your, er ... art pals, or somethin’ --. “
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