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1.
“You know,” says Yusuke, smiling at Akira over the top of his coffee cup, “you’re actually rather beautiful.”
Akira stares at him. “What?”
Yusuke lowers his mug, placing it on the table between them and leaning forward, his chin resting on his hand. “You,” he says, “are beautiful. I’d quite like to paint you.”
Akira can feel a prickling heat rising up his neck and ducks his head before Yusuke can see the pink that’s undoubtedly tinting his cheeks. “Oh.”
“Would that be ok?” asks Yusuke, apparently unaware of the reaction he’s caused.
Akira stares determinedly at the wooden table top, hoping his hair and glasses hide the worst of his blush. “Are you sure I’d be a good model?” he asks.
“Well, your posing needs work,” says Yusuke seriously, “but aesthetically, you’re a fascinating subject. Your features are so delicate you’d make a beautiful ink study, but with your dark hair and athletic build you’d look stunning in expressive brush strokes.”
“O-Oh,” says Akira, again. He kind of wants the floor to swallow him up. How does Yusuke just say stuff like that? “Sure, I’ll model for you.”
He glances up. Yusuke is beaming. “Excellent,” he says, “When are you free?”
2.
They meet at LeBlanc later that week, Yusuke turning up mid-morning with a huge art caddy over one shoulder and a sketchbook and canvas tucked under the other. “You two got a project?” asks Sojiro.
“Yes,” says Yusuke, “Akira has kindly offered to be my model.”
Sojiro’s eyebrows shoot up. “Well,” he says, “put something down so you don’t get any paint on the floor.”
“Of course,” says Yusuke, bowing his head.
“Artist’s model, eh?” says Sojiro, as Yusuke disappears upstairs.
“Oh, shut up,” says Akira.
“I’m not implying anything,” he says, raising his hands in surrender, his eyes twinkling with laughter. Akira turns his back on him, following Yusuke up to the attic.
Akira was worried modelling would be boring and it is, a bit. After adjusting the lighting a little and getting Akira to sit in a chair in the middle of the room, Yusuke starts with some quick studies. When he’s sketching, he has no time for talking, and the only words that are exchanged are requests for Akira to change his positioning.
Eventually, though, he finishes with his page of sketches and swaps to the canvas. This is where the trouble begins. Akira sees it coming – Yusuke’s posture goes from relaxed to tense, and a little furrow appears in his brow. Sure enough, he sighs a moment later, stepping back from the still blank canvas.
“Something’s wrong,” he says. “The pose isn’t right. Could you stand up?” Akira does so, pushing the chair out of the way. “I want to capture you how you look during battle,” he says.
Akira looks down at his clothing – a white shirt over a t-shirt and jeans. Hardly Phantom Thief attire. “Should I change?”
“The clothing’s fine,” says Yusuke, “it’s your stance that’s wrong. Stop slouching.”
Akira takes his hands out of his pockets and stands up a little straighter. Yusuke shakes his head. “No,” he says, “stand how you would when we’re in a palace.”
Akira blinks. Does he stand differently when they’re in the Metaverse? He tries rolling back his shoulders, adjusting his stance so his feet are further apart, and looks at Yusuke for approval.
Yusuke shakes his head. “Still not right,” he says, stepping forward and hovering with his hands stretched out. “May I?”
“Uh, sure,” says Akira.
Yusuke steps closer and puts his hands on Akira’s shoulders. It’s impossible not to look him in the eye and he smiles a tight-lipped smile that Yusuke returns.
Lightly, Yusuke presses down on Akira’s shoulders, and Akira bends his legs a little, letting Yusuke pose him.
Apparently not done, Yusuke leans down and clasps a hand around Akira’s ankle. Akira jolts at the contact, his face flooding with heat as Yusuke moves his foot across the floor, changing his centre of gravity. It’s weirdly intimate, having somebody else manipulate his body like this.
Yusuke hums when he’s satisfied and stands up, taking a step back and holding his hands outstretched in a frame, looking at Akira critically. “Almost,” he says, stepping around so that he’s behind Akira.
Akira keeps his gaze straight ahead, listening to Yusuke’s footsteps on the hardwood floor as he positions himself directly behind him. “Right,” he says, his voice soft, “a little less rigid, I think.” His breath ghosts the back of Akira’s neck, making his hair stand on end and sending a little wave of tingles through Akira’s spine.
There’s the light pressure of Yusuke’s hand on Akira’s back as he pushes him forward a little. “That’s it,” he says, as though he’s coaching Akira through something, “just like that.”
Akira struggles to keep his breathing steady as Yusuke pulls his hand away, his fingers trailing a little as he does so. The intimacy of Yusuke’s gentle coaxing is overwhelming.
A moment later, Yusuke is in front of him again. “Are you alright? You look flushed.”
Akira grits his teeth. “I’m fine.”
“If you’re sure. It’s quite hot up here, isn’t it?”
Akira jerks his head and wills his heartrate to go back to normal. Yusuke takes a photo on his phone, showing it to Akira. He’s in something of a battle stance, close to the ground, ready to run at any moment. Although he’s never exactly looked in a mirror when he was in a palace, he can believe that’s how he stands. He only has to shift his weight a little to make the pose feel natural.
The rest of the afternoon passes quietly, alternating between modelling and short breaks so Akira doesn’t get stiff. Yusuke adjusts his pose every time they start up again, and it never gets any easier not to shiver at his light touch.
3.
Yusuke texts him as school lets out, inviting him to the planetarium. Considering that they spent the previous day together, Akira’s surprised by the invite. Morgana, reading over his shoulder, sighs.
“You have Mementos requests, you know,” he says, “today would be the perfect day to make a start on them.”
He’s right, but Akira’s worried that if he declines the offer won’t be made again. He accepts before Morgana can talk him out of it.
“Urg, fine,” says Morgana when he hits send, “but I’m not going with you. The more time I spend around you two the more I die from second-hand embarrassment.”
“I’m not that bad,” says Akira, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Yes, you are,” says Morgana, “it’s awful. Take me to see Haru.”
Akira drops him off at the roof of the school and then gets on the train to meet Yusuke at the planetarium. Yusuke is already there when he arrives.
“Akira,” he says delightedly, “you came!”
“I said I would, didn’t I?” says Akira, pleased nonetheless at the enthusiastic welcome.
They haven’t got long until the next showing so take their seats. Akira can’t decide if he loves or hates going to the planetarium with Yusuke. There’s always a tension in the air that he’s sure only he feels, sitting side by side with the object of his affections in a dark room. He’s overwhelmed with a desire to grab Yusuke’s hand, sitting on the armrest between them, but he’s never be brave enough to do it. Also, he can’t ever seem to tear his eyes away from Yusuke’s enraptured expression to actually look at the stars.
This time is no different, up until the point where Yusuke catches him looking. Akira starts, immediately redirecting his attention to the show above them. He knows he’s probably blushing, again, and God, Morgana was right, he’s a mess. But after a moment of determinedly not looking at Yusuke, he realises he’s still being watched.
A quick glance back confirms it. Yusuke’s no longer paying attention to the presentation, instead gazing steadily at him. Akira smiles awkwardly. Yusuke smiles right back, apparently unconcerned to have been caught staring.
The presentation comes to an end, the room going from near-complete darkness to a soft, dim light. Yusuke makes no sign of moving. “Akira,” he says, and Akira jumps about a foot in the air.
“Yeah?”
“Is this a date?”
“Do you want it to be?” There is no good reason for his heart to be in his throat right now.
“Yes,” says Yusuke, calm as anything.
Akira can hear his blood thumping in his ears. He should definitely have more chill than this. “O-okay. Sure. Yeah. This is a date.” Jesus, his voice is high.
Yusuke’s smile could launch a thousand ships. “I’m glad.”
4.
Akira stays late at the school to help Makoto with some student council work, and when walks out of the gate to see Yusuke waiting for him.
“Hey you,” he says, smiling. Morgana, inside his bag, makes a gagging sound and wiggles out.
“I’m not sticking around for this,” he says, and jumps out, taking off down the street. Akira’s not really worried, Morgana’s probably better at navigating Tokyo than he is.
“Good evening, Akira. Are you ready to go to dinner?”
Akira has no idea how Yusuke makes it sound so formal when all they’re doing is getting beef bowls, but he goes along with it. “Of course,” he says.
It’s a short walk to the station, and they walk side by side for a moment. Without saying anything, Yusuke slips his hand into Akira’s.
Akira almost walks into a lamppost.
He doesn’t, thank God, because fighting shadows has given him insane reflexes, but it’s a close thing, ducking out the way just in time and stumbling a little.
“Are you alright?” says Yusuke, voice laced with concern. He doesn’t let go of his hand.
“Yeah,” says Akira, “shit. That was – I uh – you caught me by surprise.”
Yusuke frowns. “Do you not like me holding your hand?”
“I do,” he says, “I’m just a mess.”
“You have such a cool exterior,” says Yusuke thoughtfully, “but you get flustered by the littlest things.”
Akira looks at the ground, a familiar heat in his cheeks. “I like you a lot,” he says, “and this is all new to me. I think I just get – I don’t know – nervous?”
“If you need to me be less affectionate–”
“No,” says Akira, “I like it.”
“Ok then,” says Yusuke, squeezing his hand. Akira laces their fingers together, and tries not to hyperventilate.
1+
They’re on his bed at LeBlanc. Yusuke had bought a new art book for them to look at, but it sits abandoned on the floor. Yusuke had decided to wrap his arms around Akira, and Akira had promptly dropped the book in surprise, and neither of them had made any effort to retrieve it.
“If I were to kiss you,” says Yusuke in a slightly teasing tone, “would you spontaneously combust?”
“I don’t know,” says Akira, going for suave even though his mouth is already dry at the thought, “maybe you should try it out and see.”
Yusuke laughs and leans in without another word, catching Akira’s chin with the tips of his fingers and kissing him.
It’s chaste, and despite the oh-too-familiar heat creeping up his neck he wants more. He catches Yusuke’s face with his hands, pulling him in for another, open-mouthed kiss.
When he pulls away, there’s the lightest dusting of pink on Yusuke’s cheeks and Akira grins.
“Your entire face is bright red,” says Yusuke, which rather ruins Akira’s moment of triumph, “do you want to carry on?”
“Yes,” says Akira.
Yusuke pushes Akira back so he’s lying against the futon and swings his leg over Akira’s waist, straddling him.
Akira takes one look at Yusuke, leaning over him with hooded eyes and soft smirk, and covers his face with his hands. It’s too much.
“Do you want to stop?” asks Yusuke, and Akira would be touched by his concern if he wasn’t currently dying.
“No,” says Akira, his voice muffled.
Yusuke chuckles. “Then you’ll have to move your hands, I can’t reach your lips.”
“Give me a second,” says Akira.
Yusuke gives him several. Akira doesn’t move. “Did I do something wrong?” he asks.
“No,” says Akira, “You’re just obscenely hot, ok?”
Yusuke gently removes Akira’s hands from his face and presses a kiss to his temple. Akira’s eyes flutter closed, and he presses another to his lips.
“Ok?”
“Ok,” says Akira. With his eyes closed, it’s easier to keep his cool. He wraps his arms around Yusuke’s neck and pulls their lips together again. Yusuke’s quick to deepen the kiss, his tongue slipping into Akira’s mouth and making him moan. His hands drift up, threading his fingers into Yusuke’s hair, tugging a little. Yusuke gasps into his mouth.
When Akira opens his eyes, Yusuke’s bright red and panting. It’s glorious.