#also brain defaulted to this being irl like how Ryuji typically works out n such! up to you why Yusuke's with him obv <3

[quillheel]

@tenebriism // ryuji & yusuke!

Maybe he was right. ━ Right. in the way there was no maybe about it. He knew better. Ryuji wasn't stupid like that. He knew where his limits laid, claws in the sand, unregretful of their own existence like he at times wished they would be, and thus was on their behalf. He knew what was not enough and what was too much, pushing became shoving became something else ( something he doesn't like to talk about. Something that keeps finding him. )

but Ryuji's always been stubborn ━ it's just that this time, maybe it wasn't just being stubborn ( that something else conjuring a byproduct; hands heavy enough to be cruel, only to himself. only to himself. )

Claws in the sand, wishing he was more than he was, pushing then shoving then falling; being caught. being told something he knew, but wouldn't listen to. Slowing down.

Slowing down. Slow down.

Ryuji takes the time as Yusuke talks to catch his breath, chest heaving with a greater weight than it should, two times his size. convulses in relapsing effort to get enough air to the rest of him ( almost lightheaded ). a body rebelling against itself when pushed too far; one leg shaking that ripples throughout him as if a reminder of the consequence, a scar like a lightening strike across his knee back and along to his calf ━ visible at the hem of gym shorts as if reaching up to meet the fabric in familiarity of a time where it was born, and then revoked from.

” No, Yusuke, I just━ I needed━ “ the sentence dies, half focused on in its utterance in the first place, the attention cut then tapered. he finds himself white knuckling a support as his breathing begins to even out.

his entire body quakes with the intensity of that consequence, a vital support refusing the pushing to be pushed too far, refusing the criteria of its creation to be met twice. the scar; an ugly reminder. he finds himself staring at it as Yusuke speaks, hunched, kneecap shuddering as if given its own mind and the tendons down his calf like guitar strings in conviction of the same cause, before his attention gathers itself back to Yusuke when he begins to pull something from his bag ( confusion, then surprise. how often he forgets, how people love him. how they remember. )

his expression is not one of instant gratitude, or even of anger that spills from his shoulders into his collarbone and floods him, its indescribable, almost unnatural on his features ; Ryuji, always feeling in extremes, unable to solidify what he was feeling in the first place. ( This, too, was an extreme. you just didn't know the name of it. )

… the expression caves in on itself — 'softens', too romantic of a word — after a long moment to dissolve resolution and Ryuji limps, pain jolting up the back of his leg into the pelvis then echoing up his spine of which he understood better than anyone ever could, and he allows himself to — lacking grace — haphazardly drop into the spot assigned to him by Yusuke. His leg refuses to stop shaking despite the lack of pressure ( the pressure both was and was not the problem; always the strain. always the strain ; until it becomes too much. )

he feels pathetic like this, acid through steel, rust still creeping and eating at him. he tries to shake it off.

” Yeah. Thanks, Yusuke, I just… “ he trails off, and an unwillingness to admit what had driven him to extremes clumps in his throat like congealed blood from an old wound that wont close.

” I really want to be strong for the team. Guess I kinda got too in my head. I didn't mean to worry you or nothin'... Sorry... “