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As Souji leans forward in the chair Yosuke simultaneously leans back, meticulously keeping the same amount of distance between them. The Hanamura boy has his arms folded defensively over his chest, as though the gesture might shield him from the infuriating smirk playing across his partner’s face. Yosuke reflects then, as he feels his face heating up to what is undoubtedly a brilliant shade of red, that this might have been a really, really bad idea.
It’s too late now. Souji closes the book in his lap and leans forward on the table, resting his chin on one hand.
“Say that again?”
He nearly purrs it, the bastard.
Yosuke has never wanted so badly to wipe that fucking smile off Souji’s perfect fucking lips, the ones that he might have daydreamed about kissing a time or two (or three). He dismisses the thought quickly; it’s that kind of tangent that’s landed him in his position to begin with. Yosuke knows above all else that Souji damn well heard him just fucking fine, but for some ungodly reason wants him to embarrass himself all over again.
Like hell.
“You heard me.”
He’s all accusations, as usual, except this time it’s tinged with embarrassment. It’s Souji’s fault he’s stuck here. Not here here, at a cafe in Okina where he thought they could talk without the listening ears of all the Inaba gossips around them, but emotionally here. Proverbially, that was the word he was looking for. It’s Souji’s fault that Yosuke is proverbially here, caught between his knee-jerk disgust at the thought of kissing another boy (let alone his best friend), and in his bedroom with his jizz-covered hand in his boxers and some half-choked variation of “Partner” lodged in his throat.
Souji lets the uncomfortable silence drag out, the edges of his lips still curled up in a knowing smile—no, smirk, that incredible asshole—before he leans back in his chair again and cocks his head to one side, waiting. Yosuke has never before in his life wished he could disappear as badly as he does now, but he’s managed to fuck up his chance to escape by trapping himself here in Okina, where he can’t just make up some flimsy excuse about how he suddenly remembers his Dad asked him to do some nameless task or just leave and have somewhere safe and immediate to run to, away from the smirking bastard in front of him.
He squirms. Souji is patiently watching him. Yosuke’s going to have to repeat himself, but he’s filled with humiliated loathing, both for himself (fuck fuck fuck I’m not fucking gay) and for the boy across from him. Souji had to know the effect he had on people. Yosuke is pretty positive that at least half the population of Inaba wants to bang him, and not just the girls, either.
Asshole, he thinks for what is probably the thirty thousandth time since his little epiphany. There’s no way a guy that smart and composed didn’t realize how goddamn fucking attractive he was. Stupid Souji. Stupid sexy Souji.
Yosuke’s starting to think that Souji just wants to hear it again so he can laugh at him. That’s probably all it is, he thinks self-deprecatingly, Souji just wants a good laugh. Another pathetic person throwing themselves at him, confessing like it’s a big deal, and he’ll just chuckle and tell me he’s not interested and then laugh at me behind my back about it.
He almost doesn’t notice that Souji’s smirk has vanished.
“Yosuke.”
His name is said with just enough question and tenderness that he looks up. Souji’s brow is slightly furrowed (Yosuke can tell even through the bangs that shield his forehead, he’s learned to read his partner’s subtle expressions like a goddamn book) and Yosuke feels his resolve weakening.
“I like you, okay?!” he snaps, the steady grey stare finally breaking him, “A-And I want you to go out with me! That’s all. So just say no and get it over with already.”
He spits out the words like they’re burning his mouth, like if he keeps them in for too long they might poison him. Souji blinks once, seeming so confused that Yosuke could swear that this was some kind of revelation for him, like he didn’t know that everyone and their mother in Inaba wanted to throw him down and fuck him senseless, Yosuke included. Like he didn’t know how many sleepless nights Yosuke had spent awake, pacing in his room and go the hell away Teddie I’m fine and just thinking about him, thinking about what he’d say and how he’d say it and all the myriad different ways Souji might react to the news.
He has to know, there was no way he couldn’t know, but what if he didn’t and he’s disgusted and tells me I’m gross and doesn’t ever talk to me again fuck fuck fuck you are a goddamn fucking moron Hanamura, how could you ever think this was a good idea—
“Hey,” Souji speaks again, and Yosuke nearly jumps out of his pants because he didn’t notice that the other boy has moved his chair closer so they’re now sitting side by side. Souji is peering up into his face and smiling again, goddamn him, like he’s about to turn him down but is going to try to be gentle about it to spare Yosuke’s fucking feelings or some shit, and he’s about to open his mouth and tell Souji that he doesn’t fucking need to be coddled like a goddamn girl and…
And then Souji’s hand slips into his, and their fingers twine together, and Yosuke feels any and all of the resentment die in the back of his throat. He wants to say something, but instead manages something half-words and half-questioning noise, something smooth like “Uhh…?” and then mentally beats the shit out of himself for his lack of grace. Souji laughs, softly, but it’s not the mocking kind of laugh, it’s gentle and warm and everything Stupid Sexy Souji always is.
“Yosuke,” he says, punctuating his words with a light squeeze to Yosuke’s hand, “I thought this was meant to be a date to begin with.”
Yosuke wants to disappear again, but it’s from a different kind of humiliation this time. It’s from the oh god Hanamura you’re even more of a moron than you thought kind.
“You thought…?” he asks intelligently, and Souji laughs again.
“I thought you were asking me out when you invited me here to begin with. You were so red when you asked that I figured you were just too embarrassed to say so.”
He explains it with such patience that Yosuke is suddenly overcome with the desire to punch him all over again. Sinking back down into his seat (but refusing to let go of Souji’s hand), Yosuke grumbles under his breath.
“Why didn’t you just say so then, asshole?” he mumbles, and Souji just smiles again and shakes his head, reopening the book in his lap. Yosuke continues to glare at the ground in embarrassment, but this time it’s mixed with an inward sense of relief, and he thinks that maybe, just maybe, he could get used to this.