#crossover*

Synchronicity & Ramble On by Authoressinhiding

WHUMPTOBER 2023, DAY 7:“I paced around for hours on empty; I jumped at the slightest of sounds.” Alleyway | Radio Silence | “Can you hear me?”

I really never write Misaki, let alone HSAU Taro. I should, I know, but I just… never get ideas for him, the poor thing. So, like last year, I used a challenge as an opportunity to give him some screentime! Unlike last year, however, it's not a 6K-word masthodonth that took me weeks to write…

I went with the quote prompt again because I'm very unoriginal, very uninspired, and a bit of an overall basic bitch. It's just how I roll.

I have, as always when I write either Yusuke or Taro, been very generous on my dosage of artistic metaphors and imagery. It's not a Yusuke POV if I don't use every single reference I have available to be displayed (ha).

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Mid-Spring's Vague Idea for a Fugue

Summary: Yusuke is used to his protégé taking care of him when things go south and covering for him when needs be. Today, he gets to pay him back.

Fandom: Persona 5/Captain Tsubasa (Crossover/Teachers AU)

Word Count: 1.2K words

AO3 version available here.

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Silence can be an overwhelming thing, Yusuke thinks.

Most people would see this as paradoxical. Of course they would: the lack of noise is meant to be soothing on the brain, especially that of the tired and overworked. Silence is seen as a good thing, a necessary reprieve from the world; and who is Yusuke to tell the people they’re wrong? Everyone has a stance on silence and it can change throughout the day, for some.

He isn’t on the side who appreciates complete silence. To focus on his art, he does need a respectable amount of calm; but noise is what makes it truly compelling. The sound of breathing, the wind through the window, the rain hitting the glass in droplets… It all feels like a compelling atmosphere for true art to come out of the brain, when music doesn’t also influence it.

Silence is a constant, in the atelier they call a secondary classroom. Both Taro and he partake in their art in silence, when they don’t have class to make, and it’s what allows them to make the works they expose on the walls of their respective rooms. Yet, it’s different than drawing all on his own: in the background of his mind, there is the scritch of pencils on paper, the low humming Taro sometimes makes when he’s focused and in need of finding the right mood for a piece. It’s both comforting and inspiring all on its own.

Drawing together brings the both of them. It has ever since Yusuke was entrusted with guiding a fellow arts teacher through the trials and tribulations of such a career: they’ve always found a sort of inner and outer peace this way, keeping their conversations to a minimum when both are creating. It’s only after this step is done that conversations may happen once again.

However, as it turns out, silence has become overwhelming, which means the time to discuss and debate, further ideas together has come. As such, he turns over and looks in his protégé’s direction, palette and paintbrush still in hand.

“Tell me, Taro, my dear friend, what do you think of this?” He asks.

Taro doesn’t reply, his head still hunched over a sketchpad. Perhaps he really is just deep in thought. Yusuke better not disturb this trance, as it may lead to splendid creations. More art is always a good thing, beautiful even.

Except… he’s getting to get seriously worried. Taro has been completely silent for too long. He hasn’t move except for the rise and fall of his chest, not even the scratch of a pen or a swing of his slightly asymmetrical bangs.

“Can you hear me?”

Yusuke steps forward, leaning closer to his protégé. His eyes are closed – this is wrong.

“Taro?”

Enough silence is enough, and anxiety is pulsating through his veins, he decides the best way to combat it is to make as much noise as one can. In his case, he resorts to hitting two empty glass jars together in a cacophonic pattern – and it works: Taro wakes up in a jump, a storm of startlement and shock on his face.

“S-sorry!” He yells out, his voice hoarse with sleep.

“My apologies, my esteemed friend, but I needed your opinion on something.” He leaves a blank, just enough for Taro to shake his head and find his footing again. “Also, you looked quite dead. I figured I ought to check if you weren’t. It’d have been very unfortunate if I hadn’t realized you had passed away.”

It’d have been a terrifying, mind-shattering experience. Fortunately, Taro is very much still alive – even if, for lack of a better image, he looks like someone took a vivid red from a watercolour palette and painted ugly blotches of it onto their pristine canvas.

“Are you okay?” Yusuke asks as soon as the metaphor fades.

Taro smiles, even tilts his head forward to nod. It all looks watered down, however.

“I’m fine,” he replies, the rasp in his voice not having gone anywhere since.

“Are you certain? You’ve been spacing out immensely.”

“Oh, it’s just…” Taro stares at the sketchbook that has went flying – the front page of it is blank. “Oh…”

“You weren’t drawing?” Yusuke asks again, tension creeping into his shoulders.

“I guess not…?” His protégé picks the sketchbook back, flaps through the pages, and the few sketches both of them see are from days ago. “Oh no…”

“Maybe we should stop in our tracks.”

“N-no, it’s fine! Don’t worry about me!”

A cough escapes Taro’s lips and, all of a sudden, he looks like a deer caught in a car’s highlights. It only then finally clicks inside Yusuke’s mind.

“Would you happen to be…”

A sentence can only do so much, so he puts his hand on Taro’s forehead and, sure enough, as soon as he does, his skin feels like a bath whose hot water has been running for too long.

“Oh, you’re ill,” he thinks out loud.

He watches Taro tense under his hand, yet never fully exiting its grasp. The moist warmth in his palm hasn’t receded either. Now able to glean in more details, the full extent of the picture is somewhat vertigo-inducing: paper-pale skin, sweat in drops of rain, hair that reflects the light as if coated in polish…

“It’s… it’s fine, I promise.”

Something familiar tugs at his heartstrings with a slightly acidic touch.

“You don’t have to pretend to be in a good shape. If you feel sick, then you feel sick.”

Taro looks up with glassy, wide-open eyes. The contrast is quite the sight to behold. (Oh, that is also quite the pun).

“But…”

Yusuke slowly kneels to his level, soon cupping his face as to make sure he’s heard.

“It’s only fair I care for you, my friend. You’ve helped me so many times and in so many ways before, I can only pay you back in a similar manner. Does anything hurt?”

Unlike what he expected, Taro’s eyes wet with tears.

“I, uh… My head hurts. Not that unexpected, I suppose…”

“Anything else?”

“My throat.”

“Hmm, it sounds like a cold to me. Do you wish to see the doctor just yet?”

“Ah, no, I can’t bother Jun with that, it’s not—”

“You’re not bothering Jun, my friend, you’re merely asking him something that’s part of his missions. In just the same way an artist paints, a doctor takes care of people. You’re of no burden if Jun has decided his life’s mission was to care for the sick.”

His friend’s eyes stare at the ground.

“I… suppose you’re right…”

“It seems like your old mentor still has lessons to teach you, then.”

“Yusuke, you’re only a year older than I am…”

“Experience transcends age, my dear Taro!” The wince that haunts his face for a second makes his heart sink. “My apologies, you did say your head hurt… Can I fetch you medicine for it, at least?”

Taro remains silent for a long moment.

“Actually… I should have some in my bag, along with a water bottle.” He brings his knees against his chest. “I’d rather have you remain here, Yusuke.” He then buries his face between his knees and the rest of his body. “I don’t like being alone when I’m sick.”

Yusuke may’ve barely been able to hear the sentiment, he still relates to it on such a fundamental level that it resonates with his very DNA.

“I understand, dear friend. I’ll just stay here with you until you don’t need me, then.”

He lets Taro nestle himself into his arms.