Delving into the Mind
Sep. 19th, 2016 09:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
madimpossibledreamerMain Points:
Persona 4 Universe Optional, Follows off The Hazards of Hanging Out
Chapter Summary: Yosuke's there when you need him to be.
Word Count: 830
Rating: teen, there's a really, really mild curse that most people won't even count as one, so don't let that dissuade you
Notes: That weird thing called second person again
Could be read as ship, but written as friend!ship.
By the fiftieth text, Yosuke probably feels like he’s doing unpaid psychologist work, but he never complains. Not about this, anyway. Not once.
He doesn’t even mention it to the others, which you don’t even realize until it comes up in casual conversation with Naoto-kun and blue-black eyes stare at you for a full few seconds before the reply comes. “That’s prudent enough, Senpai.” The topic is considered covered, and you move on to other subjects.
You ask Yosuke about it, on one of your infrequent video calls, and he just looks kind of embarrassed and scrabbles at the back of his hair for about half a minute before glancing back up. “You didn’t shout about my Shadow from the rooftops to the world. I figured you deserve a little confidence, besides the fact that out of all of us I think everyone would agree you’ve earned it.”
Both good points. You can’t argue with them. Well, maybe you’re tempted to argue with the second point, a little, but it won’t make any of them change their opinion in the least, so it’s not worth the effort.
You’ve told him that your paranoia about keeping things clean nearly prevented you from cooking (he was, suitably, horrified…mostly, you think, at the possibility of delicious meals not having happened than the fact that the thought of raw meat and everything that you have to sterilize after working with it nearly paralyzes you). You’ve told him about the OCD, about the anxiety (that’s grown a lot less after the year in Inaba) that appears when everything’s not in its proper place. About not having choices, because you lived the life of expectations that you or your parents set up, and how sometimes you’d lie awake at night worrying about meeting the exacting standards you’d grown accustomed to existing in your life. You’ve told him that your parents were concerned about how much you’d liked having Nanako around until they decided, on their own, that it was a good indication, after all, that you’d live your life as the exemplary man in the exemplary life. You told him how hard it was, at first, to get used to the Dojima’s, where (due to Nanako) it wasn’t ready to be photographed and placed in an upper class magazine at any point. How you felt like you’d been living a lie. How you couldn’t understand how anyone found someone so boring, so bland, interesting enough to befriend, let alone trust with their life. How you’d managed to start finding yourself over that year, through ridiculous, stupid things like the cats (not that the cats are stupid; far from it, but your obsession with them is far from normal though you would argue to anyone that it should be; just look how adorable they are) and books and jobs that are beneath you (heck, jobs in the first place) and even stupid joke weapons.
Every morning, you’ll be reminded of something else to tell him, and he’ll figure out something to say. It’s often clumsy, but the very fact that it shouldn’t be comforting means that it is.
He emails you (on his phone; he’s a lot better at technology than you are no matter the evidence of his actually written texts, but then, he ends up at the tech department in Junes a lot and practices his sales speeches to you because they make you laugh) pictures of cats at particularly bad revelations. Most of them are Native Inaba Cats, and you recognize most of them. You think the one cat may be pregnant again. You ask if Yosuke will feed her, but he’s very reluctant (you find out, later, that the reason he always turned you down for going fishing is that he actually finds the feel and look of fish repulsive even if he doesn’t find the taste disgusting, or, on occasion, even likes it), so you end up asking the same of Yukiko, instead. She doesn’t show it, but she’s rather excited about the project Feed the Cat, and even gets some of the maids excited about the idea, so they’ll do it when she’s too busy. It’s a nice system, and you’re proud.
He thanks you for dragging the air purifier out of the attic and dusting it off for your room. Neither of you end up spending much time in the house, when you meet up, but at Yosuke’s or an arcade or something. He still appreciates it. “The worst days, and I mean the absolute worst, are when I have to work the perfume aisle,” he explains. “I can’t smell anything for a week.”
He also includes a readup about the safety of air fresheners, including the fact that many of them have formaldehyde, just to remind you not to use it anywhere near Nanako-chan, let alone Yosuke. Not that you’d ever intended to do that, but his earnest opinions still makes you smile so you don’t argue with him.
Persona 4 Universe Optional, Follows off The Hazards of Hanging Out
Chapter Summary: Yosuke's there when you need him to be.
Word Count: 830
Rating: teen, there's a really, really mild curse that most people won't even count as one, so don't let that dissuade you
Notes: That weird thing called second person again
Could be read as ship, but written as friend!ship.
By the fiftieth text, Yosuke probably feels like he’s doing unpaid psychologist work, but he never complains. Not about this, anyway. Not once.
He doesn’t even mention it to the others, which you don’t even realize until it comes up in casual conversation with Naoto-kun and blue-black eyes stare at you for a full few seconds before the reply comes. “That’s prudent enough, Senpai.” The topic is considered covered, and you move on to other subjects.
You ask Yosuke about it, on one of your infrequent video calls, and he just looks kind of embarrassed and scrabbles at the back of his hair for about half a minute before glancing back up. “You didn’t shout about my Shadow from the rooftops to the world. I figured you deserve a little confidence, besides the fact that out of all of us I think everyone would agree you’ve earned it.”
Both good points. You can’t argue with them. Well, maybe you’re tempted to argue with the second point, a little, but it won’t make any of them change their opinion in the least, so it’s not worth the effort.
You’ve told him that your paranoia about keeping things clean nearly prevented you from cooking (he was, suitably, horrified…mostly, you think, at the possibility of delicious meals not having happened than the fact that the thought of raw meat and everything that you have to sterilize after working with it nearly paralyzes you). You’ve told him about the OCD, about the anxiety (that’s grown a lot less after the year in Inaba) that appears when everything’s not in its proper place. About not having choices, because you lived the life of expectations that you or your parents set up, and how sometimes you’d lie awake at night worrying about meeting the exacting standards you’d grown accustomed to existing in your life. You’ve told him that your parents were concerned about how much you’d liked having Nanako around until they decided, on their own, that it was a good indication, after all, that you’d live your life as the exemplary man in the exemplary life. You told him how hard it was, at first, to get used to the Dojima’s, where (due to Nanako) it wasn’t ready to be photographed and placed in an upper class magazine at any point. How you felt like you’d been living a lie. How you couldn’t understand how anyone found someone so boring, so bland, interesting enough to befriend, let alone trust with their life. How you’d managed to start finding yourself over that year, through ridiculous, stupid things like the cats (not that the cats are stupid; far from it, but your obsession with them is far from normal though you would argue to anyone that it should be; just look how adorable they are) and books and jobs that are beneath you (heck, jobs in the first place) and even stupid joke weapons.
Every morning, you’ll be reminded of something else to tell him, and he’ll figure out something to say. It’s often clumsy, but the very fact that it shouldn’t be comforting means that it is.
He emails you (on his phone; he’s a lot better at technology than you are no matter the evidence of his actually written texts, but then, he ends up at the tech department in Junes a lot and practices his sales speeches to you because they make you laugh) pictures of cats at particularly bad revelations. Most of them are Native Inaba Cats, and you recognize most of them. You think the one cat may be pregnant again. You ask if Yosuke will feed her, but he’s very reluctant (you find out, later, that the reason he always turned you down for going fishing is that he actually finds the feel and look of fish repulsive even if he doesn’t find the taste disgusting, or, on occasion, even likes it), so you end up asking the same of Yukiko, instead. She doesn’t show it, but she’s rather excited about the project Feed the Cat, and even gets some of the maids excited about the idea, so they’ll do it when she’s too busy. It’s a nice system, and you’re proud.
He thanks you for dragging the air purifier out of the attic and dusting it off for your room. Neither of you end up spending much time in the house, when you meet up, but at Yosuke’s or an arcade or something. He still appreciates it. “The worst days, and I mean the absolute worst, are when I have to work the perfume aisle,” he explains. “I can’t smell anything for a week.”
He also includes a readup about the safety of air fresheners, including the fact that many of them have formaldehyde, just to remind you not to use it anywhere near Nanako-chan, let alone Yosuke. Not that you’d ever intended to do that, but his earnest opinions still makes you smile so you don’t argue with him.
