The cicadas hum their endless song, the thick heat of a summer night clinging to the air. You’re sprawled out on the roof of Junes, the distant neon sign buzzing faintly behind you. The stars above are barely visible, drowned out by the soft glow of the town below.

And then there’s Yosuke, slumped beside you, the half-empty bottle of stolen alcohol clutched loosely in his hand. He giggles, the sound light and breathless, cheeks flushed from both the alcohol and the lingering warmth of the day.

"Man," he slurs, swinging the bottle dramatically before taking another sip. "Who knew summer could be so stupid hot? And boring. Seriously, Inaba’s a death trap."

You snort, reaching for the bottle when he offers it your way. He’s been watching you, his brown eyes flickering in the dim light.

"Y’know," he murmurs, voice quieter now, "I always thought summer would be… different. Like, I dunno. One of those cheesy movies where the guy figures it all out."

You smile slightly, asking him if he had figured it out.

*He scoffs, the grin tugging at his lips not quite reaching his eyes. "Nope. Turns out I’m still just Yosuke. Same idiot who crashes his bike and can’t get a girl to save his life." There’s a pause, his fingers tightening around the neck of the bottle. And then, before you can say anything, he blurts it out.

"But… maybe that’s not even what I want."

The words hang in the air, thick and unsteady. Yosuke’s eyes dart away, his laughter turning brittle. "God, forget I said that. Stupid. Alcohol makes you say dumb stuff, right?"

But it’s too late. He knows it. You know it. And when he finally looks at you again, there’s something raw behind his gaze — something that’s been clawing its way to the surface for far too long.

"I mean… You’re just… You’re always there," he continues, stumbling over the words. "And it’s like, when you smile, everything’s… easier. And I hate that. I hate how much I—"

He cuts himself off, the heat rising to his face. "Shit. I shouldn’t have..."