Persona!

The vial stayed in the bag, unused, for many months afterwards. In fact, Yu entirely forgot its existence until early February. On a particularly snowy Sunday, Yu, trapped at home, decided to clean up his now-unused TV world equipment. He’d emptied and sorted all the supplies in his bag, and was about to put the bag itself through the wash when he heard a clinking sound. After five minutes of searching through empty pockets—there truly was such a thing as too much organisation—he found the vial, remembering that they’d saved it in case it might come in handy later. Now that he thought about it, perhaps it would have been useful during Namatame’s interrogation, or with Adachi, but they’d figured things out fine without it. He set it aside for now, figuring he’d sell it at Shiroku along with the rest of the leftover supplies, and continued his cleaning.

To his surprise, Old Lady Shiroku refused to take the serum from him.

“This may yet come in handy to you, young man,” she told him with a twinkle in her eye as she pushed it back across the counter.

Not for the first time, Yu wondered who this woman truly was. There was more to her than a casual shopkeeper-turned-midnight-bartender; how else would she have known where to find Goho-Ms and Vanish Balls, known what they were called even, when outside the TV world they resembled nothing but shiny overpriced marbles? He’d asked once, and she’d only winked at him and held a finger up to her lips. “You should know a lady never tells, darling,” she’d replied, and the next time he’d gone shopping all her prices had gone up a hundred yen. Yu wasn’t an idiot. He hadn’t asked again.

So when she left the vial on the counter and ignored his confused look, he took it back without any further questions. It wasn’t as though he was hurting for money, and it was a rather pretty bottle if nothing else; it would look nice on the shelf over his desk.

The bottle looked nice on said shelf for approximately three days, until Teddie, invited over by Nanako, bounced into his room one afternoon and spotted it.

“Sensei! Can I have this?” he asked as he snatched it up, turning puppy dog eyes on Yu.

Yu knew better than to fall for the look, but he didn’t see anything wrong with letting Teddie have the potion if it made him happy. Maybe something about its link to the TV world appealed to him, or maybe he just liked how it looked; Teddie did have a certain fascination for shiny, pretty things.

“Sure,” Yu replied as he gently ushered him back downstairs before he could touch anything else in his room. He’d had to spend a good two hours doing damage control after the last time he’d visited, when he’d smashed two of his models together because, “They’re fighting, Sensei! That’s what they’re made for!”

He’d thought that was the last he would hear of that small bottle, but unfortunately, it showed up again a very short time later. The entire Investigation Team was gathered in a large reception room at the Amagi Inn, which they’d hijacked for a sleepover party. The guys had just finished relaxing in the hot springs, and everyone was sitting around on pillows chatting while waiting for the girls’ turn. Then they would have dinner, gracefully provided by the inn, and after that probably stay up way too late telling ghost stories that would make Yukiko giggle and Chie and Yosuke scream. Yu smiled as he leaned back on his hands and looked at the ceiling, a bit of a bittersweet feeling coursing through him. He only had a scant month of this left to enjoy, and then it would be back to the city for him—and for all that Yosuke kept making plans for them to go to university together, for all that Rise and Naoto would be moving back there too, well… he was still going to miss this, right here. Everyone, together under one roof, with nothing more important to think about than school and what they’d do next weekend.

He pushed himself back upright, and all his nostalgic feelings fled in an instant as he saw Teddie jump to his feet with a mischievous expression that he’d learned was always followed by a very bad idea.

“Let’s play truth or dare!”

The others were long gone by the time he finally picked up the wrapped package that sat next to him; even Teddie had headed home after giving him an uncharacteristically gentle hug and a pat on the head that had made him laugh.

“From Yu,” the elaborately handwritten tag read. Yu. Everything had revolved around him this past year, of course. It was almost strange to imagine life in Inaba moving on without him, so completely had he permeated every layer of the small town’s society. Last year, Yosuke’d resented him for that. He’d been jealous of the way the mantle of leadership settled on his shoulders like it had always belonged there, of the magnetic way he drew others to him; and then there’d been that colossal mistake of a summer, and he’d been angry at feeling like a joke, like a toy to be discarded and replaced when it didn’t perform as expected.

But even that had been part of the journey; he’d learned a lot about himself on those late, lonely nights sitting by the Samegawa. In that darkness, he’d finally managed to stop lying, at least to himself, and admit that maybe what he’d been most scared of all this time was of himself, and of the dreams and hopes that didn’t fit the mold he’d expected his life to fit into. It was a strange thing, honesty; it was both so much harder to face, and yet so much simpler to live with, than denial. Then again, that shouldn’t have come as a surprise after the TV world; hadn’t that been its message all along? Accept yourself.

So Yosuke had accepted himself. He’d accepted that he wanted more from life than slowly climbing the ladder of retail work at Junes, spending his money on whatever he was told the right clothes and the right movies were that month. He’d accepted that he couldn’t always be the happy, comic-relief friend people expected him to be. And, perhaps hardest of all, he’d accepted that he didn’t dream of soft curves and sleek long hair at night, but rather of a silver bowl cut and muscles that were anything but delicate.

He’d been jealous at the beginning, but it was much harder to resent someone when you’d seen them broken, sobbing in a cold November snow, and when all the envy and the anger and the fear had fallen away, all that had been left was love.

Yosuke smiled as he sliced through the tape on the expertly-wrapped package with the edge of his nail. He wouldn’t have expected anything less from Mr. “Good With His Hands” Narukami. To his surprise, it revealed a worn novel he recognized; he knew that specific copy, having seen it on Yu’s shelf every time he’d come over to his house. It was one of Yu’s favorite books, which he’d had from childhood. Yosuke had promised to read it over their time apart so they could discuss it the next time they met, but he hadn’t expected to be given the original copy.

He carefully opened the front cover, mindful of the threadbare spine, to find that Yu had not only given him one of his most prized possessions, but had even defaced it for him. The entire double page was filled with Yu’s neat handwriting.

To my beloved partner, Yosuke started reading, letting his fingers trail over the slight indentation the ballpoint pen had left in the paper.

Thank you for this past year. I’m sorry that I haven’t always been the best friend I could be to you; I can only promise not to make the same mistake again, and hope that you will stop me if I ever am too much of a fool for my own good again.

It’s hard to put into words how deep my affection for you runs, but unfortunately I can’t simply show it to you anymore, so words are all that I have. I could ramble on about the color of your eyes, the perfection of your face or the charm of your smile, but I’m sure you’ve heard me do that often enough to be tired of it by now. Nonetheless, let me reiterate how lucky I am that someone as beautiful as you would love me.

But more than your appearance, it is your very being that I love—your optimism, your kindness, your relentless motivation to do good. I feel that I am the best person I can be when I am next to you, if only because your goodness reflects onto me. I hope you will allow me to continue standing by your side for many years to come.

I wrote this in pen so I wouldn’t be able to go back and change anything, because I was afraid of being too much of a coward and erasing everything, but I think I kinda got way too sentimental there. Sorry! I know we’ve only been dating for a month and this is all a bit much. I have to admit, while I hope it doesn’t scare you, I truly mean all of it. It feels like it’s been so much longer to me. I can’t imagine anyone ever being as close to me as you are.

Speaking of things that are maybe a little premature, you should go see Daidara. He’s got a gift for you, from me. Before you freak out about it—no, it doesn’t mean anything. It’s just something I wore a lot this past year that I wanted you to have to remember me by. The day when I get you one that means something, I’ll make sure it’s much more special than that one, I promise.

I’m going to miss you so much, Yosuke. There’s no place I’d rather be than in your arms. I’m really sad I have to leave, but I’m not afraid. We took a long and twisted path and still managed to make it to each other; whatever life tries to throw at us, I know we’ll overcome those obstacles, too. After all, you’re my one and only partner.

Love

Your Yu

-------------

In a train not so far away, although getting steadily farther by the minute, Yu pulled on a familiar pair of orange headphones. Yosuke had shoved them around his neck moments before the train doors closed, probably well aware that he would have tried to give them back otherwise. They were such an integral part of Yosuke that it seemed wrong for the two to be separated. Now, as he felt their familiar weight on his head—Yosuke often slipped them over his ears to share his latest favorite song with him—he was glad he hadn’t had a chance to return them. In a way, it was almost like a piece of Yosuke was coming with him.

As the train picked up speed, he unlocked the small music player that dangled from the cable. On the main screen, a single playlist appeared, titled, in true Yosuke fashion, “listn2me.” Yu smiled and hit play.

The opening chords of the song were unfamiliar, which didn’t surprise Yu. He didn’t listen to music much, and rarely knew any of the songs Yosuke shared with him. It was more unexpected when the voice that started singing turned out to be very familiar. Yu gasped out loud, causing the person sitting next to him to glance in his direction with a concerned expression.

He gave them a small shake of his head and they turned back to their book while he started the song over from the beginning. Now that he was listening for it, the sound quality was clearly not that of a produced album, as beautiful as it sounded. Yu closed his eyes and reached up to place a hand over one of the earpieces, losing himself in Yosuke’s singing voice.

He didn’t quite follow the lyrics; there would be time for that later, for deciphering every word, for picking out the meaning of every line. For now, he let himself just experience the music and the emotions they carried, an eclectic mix of melancholy, joy, excitement and determination that perfectly reflected Yosuke himself. They weren’t love songs, at least not in any obvious way, but that was right, too. Yu spoke Yosuke’s language well enough by now to easily translate this—the headphones, the playlist, the painstakingly recorded songs—into the love letter that they were meant to be, and he wouldn’t have changed any part of it for the world.

“Yosuke?” a voice called out in a worried tone, before hurried footsteps brought his mom to the kitchen’s door. “Honey, are you alright? What are you doing?”

Yosuke shoved his cut finger in his mouth and glared at the spread of food and tools surrounding him, then at her. “What does it look like I’m doing.”

She blinked at the display, and sure, Yosuke didn’t cook very often — or maybe ever — but she didn’t need to gape like she’d found Chie’s pet dog trying to cook dinner, either. Before he could turn his anger over the whole situation on her, she stepped forward to pull his hand out of his mouth.

“Did you cut yourself?”

Yosuke nodded sullenly, and she grabbed the first aid kit that sat nearby on the floor, where he’d left it after bandaging his previous injuries.

“Alright, let’s get that fixed up, and then maybe you can tell me why you suddenly decided to become a chef?”

“I was trying to make a bento for school tomorrow,” Yosuke replied grumpily as she disinfected his cut and wrapped a band-aid over it.

She gave him a calculating look, but the gods must have decided he’d suffered enough for today, because she didn’t ask the question that was obviously burning on her tongue, ut instead started cleaning up the mess he’d made, looking through the ingredients on the counter.

“Hmm… grilled steak strips, vegetables and rice?”

Yosuke gave a short nod. It wasn’t anything special, as bentos went, but even before his culinary failure he’d known better than to expect too much out of himself.

His mom pulled some items out of cupboards, shuffling items around until she had everything set up to her liking.

“First thing, that knife’s no good,” she explained. “I’ve been meaning to get rid of it, but you know how your dad is with throwing stuff away… It doesn’t take a good edge, so for hard vegetables like carrots it tends to slip.” She handed him another knife, one he’d stayed away from because of how large it looked. He’d been, ironically, afraid of hurting himself with it. “This one will be much better. And let me show you how to hold the carrot so you don’t hurt yourself if you slip.”

With his mom’s help, the meal started to take shape, and soon enough the smell of grilling meat — at the right temperature this time, because apparently turning the heat up so it’d cook faster wasn’t a good strategy — was filling the room while a new batch of rice cooked. Yosuke’s optimism was making a good comeback as he tasted a perfectly cooked carrot, and then his mom had to go and open her mouth.

“So, who’s this bento for?”

Yosuke dropped the bowl of vegetables he’d been holding, scattering them across the counter.

“Nobody! It’s for me!”

Which would have been more convincing, perhaps, if his voice hadn’t cracked in the middle and skipped an octave. Or not — his mom seemed to have some sort of Yosuke-bullshit detector built-in. She said it came with parenthood, which seemed entirely unfair to teenage boys just trying to survive.

“...Who do you think,” he muttered.

“One of those sweet girls who came to see you at work the other day?” she asked, and really, only a mom could call Chie a sweet girl, but he passed on pointing that out in favor of shaking his head. His mom hummed as she worked to gather up the vegetables Yosuke had dropped.

“Then… is it a girl I haven’t met? Is she from school?”

“You’ve met them,” Yosuke replied, reticent but well aware she wouldn’t give up until she found out anyway.

Something seemed to light up in her eyes at his words. “Ah… not a girl, then, hmm.” She smiled knowingly, an all-too-perceptive glint in her eyes. “It wouldn’t happen to be your best friend, would it?”

“He’s my partner, mom, not my best friend,” Yosuke huffed. It wasn’t the same thing. Best friends were for people like Yukiko and Chie, or Daisuke and Kou; what he and Yu had went deeper than that. Partners meant standing side by side, always supporting one another; it meant having each other’s backs in life or death situations, and knowing what the other person needed without even having to ask. And ok, maybe Yukiko and Chie had that, too, but what he had with Yu was special, and that was that.

“Partners, huh?” his mom asked. “So are you two…” she trailed off and raised her eyebrows at him.

It took him a moment to understand what she was hinting at, and he shook his head, feeling his cheeks heating up against his will. “No! No. Not… yet.”

Yosuke’s mom reached forward to pick up the little heart-shaped vegetable cutters he’d bought, then placed them in his hands.

“We’d better get back to work, then. This bento’s going to be perfect,” she told him with a fond smile, ruffling his hair before she turned back to check on the grilling steak.

They finished up a short time later, and after the two bentos were securely in the fridge, Yosuke did the dishes while his mom cleaned up the kitchen.

“Do you… do you think he’ll say yes?” he asked half under his breath, barely audible above the sound of running water.

There was no immediate reply, and he thought she hadn’t heard, but after a few seconds she came to turn the tap off and looked at him with a serious expression.

“I can’t tell you that. He’s the only one who can. But, whatever he says, I’m proud of you. It takes a lot of courage and honesty to confess your feelings,” she said, pulling him into a hug. “He’d be lucky to have you, you know — anybody would. You’re a good kid.”

Yosuke blushed, unused to such praise from his mom; they were close, often pranking each other or playing games together, but they weren’t often emotionally open like that. “Thanks, mom,” he mumbled as he turned back to the dishes.

When they were almost done, Yosuke working on the last pot, she came to lean against the counter next to him with a mischievous smile.

“Now, I meant what I said — he’s the only one who can answer your confession. But, just so you know…I’m pretty sure you have a chance. I’ve seen that kid spend 20 minutes hiding by the door at Junes just so he could ‘accidentally’ run into you on your way home.”

“Wait, what?! You never told me that!”

She winked at him. “I also never told him you stalk the security cams to make sure you can go restock whatever aisle he happens to be in, so I think you two are even.”

Yosuke spluttered. “I— I don’t— I never— erghhhh,” he groaned, pulling his shoulders up to hide his flushed face while his mom patted his back and laughed her way right out of the kitchen.