Chapter Text
Yusuke is not, exactly, popular around school, by any means. It’s never bothered him, though the feeling is more acute with his newfound friends from other schools. But now he finds himself waiting outside of the train station for his newest friend - Goro Akechi. The boy is not terribly dissimilar to Yusuke himself, a bit of a pariah, given in a completely different way. Still, the company of another is welcome, and especially so with a free meal on the table.
“Ah - Akechi-kun! This way!” Yusuke calls as soon as he spots the other boy. He supposes he isn’t particularly difficult to spot in a crowd, but why make things unnecessarily difficult.
“So formal.” His companion hums, but makes no move to correct Yusuke. “And here I was thinking five minutes early would be enough to get here first. Lesson learned, I suppose. Well then, are you ready to go, Kitagawa-kun ?” There’s a lilt to Akechi’s voice Yusuke cannot quite place when he says Yusuke’s name, but he chooses not to put too much thought into it. His stomach rumbles, answering in his stead.
“Lead the way.” He prompts with a nod of his head, and follows Akechi away from the station, onto the streets of Ginza. It’s nearing evening, The sun is just barely starting to set, golden hour in full swing, catching Akechi’s hair to stain it a more caramel brown. It’s a good color on him, Yusuke thinks idly, contrasting just so with the blue of his vest. Lovely.
His gaze draws away from his companion, and across the meandering pedestrians, the way everyone reflects in the windows, warped and off. Yusuke tries to commit the sight to memory, but is pulled from the reverie with his companion speaking up.
“Ah! Right up ahead. Have you ever been here, Kitagawa-kun?” Akechi asks, smile soft and genuine, eyes alight with excitement.
“Mm, once or twice.” He replies, ever blunt. Akechi’s shoulders seem to sag slightly, but Yusuke cannot for the life of him imagine why. The detective does seem a bit more expressive around him, less guarded. The falsehoods of his public smile hadn’t occurred to Yusuke until a genuine one had been aimed his way, the curve of his lips less forced, it was an incredibly handsome sight. He’d told Akechi as much, of course, hoping it may encourage the other boy to be more genuine, it suited him much better.
Akechi leads them into the establishment, exchanging quiet words with the host - oh - they’d had a reservation? How forward thinking. They’ve made it in just before the dinner rush, but Akechi’s attention to detail never fails to astound him.
Within a few minutes, they’re seated on a more secluded part of the bar, tucked into the back of the establishment, only in clear view of the chefs. A perfect vantage point for Yusuke to observe the art of sushi making as well as the expressions as the other patrons observing. While he prefers larger surfaces for creation, he’s learned to carry smaller, reasonably sized sketchbooks for occasions such as these. His companion quirks an eyebrow, though a fond smile curls his lips, and he makes no attempt to dissuade Yusuke from his activities.
It’s respectful in a way Yusuke truly is not used to. “You’ve been here several times yourself, yes?” He asks, still rummaging through his bag to find an appropriate pen for quick studies. Akechi confirms with a soft hum, idly poking through the menu. “I trust your judgment, then. Perhaps we should simply split several things? I want at least something with saba, but I would love to try your favorites, Akechi-kun.”
“Ah - that’s quite a bit of trust! But if you’re sure.” Akechi nods absentmindedly, perusing the menu a bit more seriously now. Perhaps he is worried that Yusuke is a picky eater.
No matter, with their order safely in his companion’s hands, Yusuke sets to work. He finds himself laying down the lines of the bar, the shelves, the lighting. He fills in gestures of the other patrons, flips the page, repeats with a different area. Flips the page, focuses on the quick movements of the chefs, tries to capture the movement of the knives, the careful rolling of the bamboo, the wrinkle in their brows as they assemble a picturesque platter.
Akechi’s eyes are on him, he can feel them, but years of Madarame, his peers, other professors watching him over his shoulder make the sensation simply background noise in his mind. Not to mention, the boy doesn’t attempt to interrupt him with mindless chatter or anything, and Yusuke appreciates it.
The movements of his pen do not pause until the platter of artfully arranged sushi is placed in front of them. They both mumble their thank you’s, and Yusuke carefully places the sketchbook and pen back into his bag, his stomach growling again as the chef returns once more with two bowls of miso soup. The spread is divine, gorgeous under the low lighting, there are a few varieties of maki with an assortment of nigiri and sashimi. His mouth is already watering, eyes sparkling as he surveys.
“Gorgeous!” Yusuke fishes his pockets for his phone and - ah. It’s dead. Right, busted charger. Perhaps Futaba would accompany him to find a new one for a decent price. The displeasure must show on his face, judging by Akechi’s confusion.
“Did you want to… take a picture?” The guess is stunningly, wonderfully accurate.
“Ah, yes! However, it seems my phone charger has struck again, leaving me without battery.” Yusuke explains with a wistful sigh.
“Here, use mine. I’ll send them to you.” Yusuke blinks a few times, truly surprised, but accepts the phone.
“I am indebted to you.” He wastes no time standing up from his seat and taking no less than ten shots from varying angles, hoping he is not overstepping the offer.
“Oh, please. It’s nothing.” Akechi assures him, taking the device back, sending the images off to Yusuke, then tucking it safely back into a pocket. “Now - shall we?”
And with that, they waste no time getting to work on the platter in front of them. “Your taste is quite refined, Akechi-kun.” Yusuke comments, surprised by the pink tinge to the detective’s cheeks, smile almost bashful.
“Perhaps. Though, in all honesty, everything served here is high quality.” Strange, it is most unlike Akechi not to boast at a compliment, but perhaps this is simply part of his truer personality. It’s quite nice, Yusuke decides.
He finds his eyes passing over the detective more closely, lingering on the way the golden light hits him - not unlike the shafts of sunlight before. Curious. Gaze drops lower, observing the coral-orange of the salmon against the pink of Akechi’s lips. The way the black leather of his gloves contrasts with the light, decorative wood of the chopsticks. He finds himself observing the angles of the boy’s face - his sharp jaw and the soft bow of his lips, the way the tip of his nose points up slightly, his surprisingly round brow bone.
Perhaps he should have spent his time drawing his companion, rather than the other patrons. But - no, he wants Akechi to model for him. Wants him to himself for this.
Strange… It’s quite like the inspiration he felt looking upon Ann for the first time, but he’s known Akechi for a while now. And this time, the desire is quieter, controlled. It’s not all consuming or urgent, but a low burning wish. Something he supposes he will bring up when he is not already indebted to his company.
The rest of the meal passes easily, idle chatter between finishing off what’s in front of them. Yusuke could do that again twice over before he’d be too full, but that would, likely, be rude to ask for at a high class establishment. Perhaps there is still some instant yakisoba in his dorm room… Futaba had given him a pack, he suspected out of pity, but he was not one to turn down free food.
A touch of guilt churns in his stomach as he glimpses the check total, but reminds himself that Akechi had been in charge of ordering. The detective doesn’t seem peeved, either, so he pushes it from his mind.
They take their time on their way back to the train station, observing and ducking into a few of the shops across their path. It is surprisingly fun, Yusuke has to admit. Before long, however, they’re at the platform, night winding to a close.
“Wait - is your apartment not down the other line?” Yusuke asks, brow furrowing.
“It is, but I wanted to walk you home.” There it is again - the soft, pink shade casting over the detective’s features. Interesting.
“That’s very considerate, Akechi-kun. If you are sure, I will not object to more time in your company.” That seems to please his companion, and they find seats next to each other on the train. Under the fluorescent lights of the subway, he’s more aware of the bags under Akechi’s eyes. It seems the concealer there is wearing off at the end of a long day. He finds himself wondering if Akechi ever does make up for himself - if he even wants to, what would he be drawn to? Wonders if Akechi would ever let Yusuke make art on his face. Maybe so, one day.
A weight falls on his shoulder, and Yusuke realizes it’s Akechi. How strange. Yusuke does not make a good pillow - Futaba and Ryuji have told him as much. But, seemingly, the detective is tired enough not to mind, so Yusuke does not speak up, letting him rest on the short ride back to the dorms. Peaceful.