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pink, like your brain

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"Um, if you don't mind me saying..."

"Huh?" Ryuji asks, eyes trained on the long line up for poorly made snow cones.

"You're not exactly...subtle, at the moment.”

"About what?"

"About Akira."

"Okay," he says distantly, before whipping his head towards Yusuke. "Wait, what? What! What do you mean?"

Yusuke gives a small smile, still cradling his food in his hand (lovingly bought by Ryuji and Akira). "You haven't stopped staring at him this whole time."

"Well, that's-that's because I know he doesn't do good in crowds and the heat. I mean, look at him!" They watch as Akira once again wipes the sweat across his face, looking not too far from passing out. "He didn’t even bring shorts to Tokyo, Yusuke. He's gonna die out here. I've gotta look out for him."

"And while you're looking out for him," Yusuke says. "You haven't touched your kebab, despite the fact that that's why we're here at all."

"Oh yeah?" Ryuji chomps half of his kebab and chews smugly. "...I forgot there was a stick."

Yusuke sighs as Akira finally approaches them, drenched in sweat but happily showcasing his newly acquired snowcone. "Hey, look what I—" It slips out of his sweaty hands, Morgana screeching as it hits the grass. "Motherfu—"

"Crap, I think I got a splinter in my mouth," Ryuji groans.

Yusuke rubs his temples. Maybe they were made for each other, after all.