Chapter Text
Yosuke had already known that the universe tended to go out of its way to make terrible things happen to him. He hadn’t needed the universe to hammer the message into his head by having his literature teacher suddenly announce in class that they would be splitting up into pairs to perform a random scene of the play they were currently studying, and that they would be given a week to practice the scene, and that they would have to perform it in front of the class and be graded on how well they had memorized it.
“Why, why, why, why???” Yosuke moaned, slumping forward onto his desk and burying his face in his arms. “We’re in literature class. Literature class! Literature isn’t about acting! Literature should have nothing to do with acting! It should be about… reading stuff and analyzing it and figuring out what it means!” Not that Yosuke had originally been extremely enthused about reading and analyzing works of fiction, but that was beside the point.
“That’s the point of this exercise, Yosuke.” Dammit, why did Souji have to have such a soothing, calming voice? His voice was like cool water down a parched throat. It very nearly succeeded in making Yosuke feel like everything was okay and it wasn’t humiliating and weird to have to practice confessing his feelings for “Souji” in the most convincing and passionate way. “You know Shakespeare’s plays weren’t meant to be read. He wrote them, meaning for them to be performed. And—”
“I know, I know, I know, I heard the explanation. I was listening.” Yosuke waved a hand at Souji, still facedown on the desk. Souji deftly leaned to the right to avoid getting accidentally smacked.
“Were you?” His voice was light and teasing now.
“Shut up. ‘Course I was.” Yosuke tried to swat at Souji’s face again, this time on purpose.
“Come on, at least it’s only one scene. Let’s go through it at least once. We have only fifteen minutes before this period ends.” Souji nudged Yosuke’s shoulder and pointed over at Chie and Yukiko, who were doing an actually funny scene that didn’t involve any awkward feelings having to be confessed to anyone ever. “They’re already way ahead of us.”
“Fool, there was never a man so notoriously abused!” cried Chie-as-Malvolio dramatically, whirling around to follow Yukiko-as-Feste’s voice as if she couldn’t see where Yukiko was. “I am as well in my wits, Fool, as thou art!”
Yukiko-as-Feste gasped delicately, skipping around Chie in circles, script in one hand. “But as well? Then you are mad indeed, if you be no more better in your wits than a fool.”
Reluctantly, Yosuke sat up straight and picked up the stapled-together sheets of A4 paper before him. “I hate my life,” Yosuke mumbled.
“Come on, Lady Olivia, none of that,” Souji said with a little smile on his face.
Dammit. It was impossible to hate the guy when he was smiling like that. Yosuke groaned. “Fine.” He flipped over to the first page of the script. “Give me your hand, sir,” he said in his best posh, lofty nobility voice.
“My duty, madam, and most humble service,” Souji breathed out in a soft falsetto, ducking his head a little bit and looking up at Yosuke through his eyelashes. Yosuke’s heart skipped a beat.
“I, uh. What?” Yosuke blinked, scrabbling around in his brain for something to say, the existence of the script entirely forgotten. “Did you just do a girl’s voice?”
“Well, Viola is meant to be a girl. Do you think it was weird? Since you’re not doing one? Should we both just go without?”
“No, no, partner, uhm, it was fine. It’s fine,” Yosuke stammered, his cheeks heating up. “Sorry, I, uh. I’ve never heard you speak in that voice before. I’ll start again.” He cleared his throat. “Give me your hand, sir.”
“My duty, madam, and most humble service.” The falsetto was back. It wasn’t exaggerated, though, like when comedians did it on the television to try and be funny. It was… oddly persuasive. Like Yosuke really was talking to a girl and not Souji.
He tried to imagine that he was practicing lines with someone else. A girl. With that same soft, androgynous voice, shoulder-length hair perhaps, and dimples.
It felt a lot less awkward. And a lot less like the universe was playing a cruel joke on him.
He looked back at the script. “What is your name?”
“Cesario is your servant’s name, fair princess.” Souji’s lips were twitching a little as he said it. For a moment, Yosuke was glad it was Souji who was his partner in this assignment and not Chie. He would have never heard the end of being the Fair Princess of Junes. At least Souji had the decency to not say these things even if they came to his mind.
“My servant, sir!” Yosuke gasped, because even if he honestly had no idea how to act these lines or what half of them even meant, there was an exclamation mark here and he was going to pronounce it, dammit. It was a start. “‘Twas never merry world since—” here he squinted at the script to figure out how to enunciate the words, “—lowly feigning was call’d compliment. You’re servant to the Count Orsino, youth.”
Souji as a servant? Yosuke wondered what that would look like. And now he was picturing Souji in a butler costume and getting down on one knee and… yeah, best to shut down that fantasy before it went anywhere.
“And he is yours, and his must needs be yours.” Souji’s voice was careful and neutral, no doubt his way of trying to express how Viola was aware of Olivia’s feelings and trying not to comment on them one way or another. “Your servant’s servant is your servant, madam.”
For a short while they went back and forth, Yosuke often saying his lines then afterward pausing to think about what they meant and what sort of headspace Olivia was in. Which he knew wasn’t ideal at all, but hey, this was only the first reading. He had plenty of time to think about it later.
And then, of course, they came to Olivia’s long speech about her passionate love for Cesario.
“O, what a deal of scorn looks beautiful in the contempt and anger of his lip!” bemoaned Yosuke, his heart falling a little to realize that it was true. He would think Souji terribly attractive no matter what expression he was wearing. Even if it was one of contempt and anger from a confession of Yosuke’s that he had just turned down.
Dear God, Olivia was pathetic. Olivia was also exactly like him.
Yosuke’s mouth moved, pronouncing the words mechanically, while inside something in his chest area was clenching painfully. “A murderous guilt shows not itself more soon than love that would seem hid: love’s night is noon.” What did that even mean? God dammit, Olivia, get to the point. “Cesario, by the roses of the spring, by maidhood, honor, truth and everything—” Yosuke looked up at Souji, who was listening with his eyes trained on Yosuke as if he was fascinated.
“Go on,” Souji murmured.
“I — okay, sorry, just a moment. Cesario, by the roses of the spring, by truth and — I, I mean, sorry, partner, by maidhood, honor, truth and everything, I—”
His forehead broke out in a cold sweat as his eyes skipped over the next few lines.
I love thee so, that, maugre all thy pride,
Nor wit nor reason can my passion hide.
Dammit, this was just a play! And not even a real play, a classroom project! Why couldn’t he say it?
One desk over, Chie and Yukiko glanced at them in curiosity, apparently having finished their own scene. Yukiko watched them intently, then leaned in towards Chie to whisper in her ear.
Yosuke turned white, his eyes having met Yukiko’s, and Souji frowned in concern. Yosuke powered on and breathed out desperately, “B-by maidhood, honor, truth and everything, I l—” He was going to say it this time. This was ridiculous. “I lo—”
The bell rang.
Yosuke shot up from his seat, staring at the floor. “We’ll practice the scene later, yeah, partner?” Then he dashed out toward the bathroom, where he spent the entirety of the break staring into the mirror while inwardly he despaired and kicked himself over and over again for being such a spineless idiot.