AN: This fic is dedicated to Parapa who is the biggest Beat x Yoyo lover I know (check out her fic)

disclaimer: i do not own Jet Set Radio Future

Jet Set Radio Future
Room for Two
Beat x Yoyo

It wasn't like they could just hold hands or openly smile at each other. There was an unspoken rule between them. It was like it was a secret that everyone knew about. Beat and Yoyo were… something. They liked each other. They needed each other. They'd confessed, as unbelievable as that seemed. The words came out of their mouths and hung in mid air but there was still space between them

Yoyo hoped that a confession would help them. That's what they needed. After months of torture he thought if he'd just say how he felt everything would fall into place.

He was wrong.

He stared out from the couch at the top of the garage. Rhyth was singing along with the song, her eyes lidded in bliss. She was his best friend perhaps. She was the person she was closest to perhaps, besides Beat. But she was no help. Not at all. She opened her eyes as if she felt his gaze and she smiled warmly, screaming "hi" over the music. Yoyo nodded in acknowledgement.

Even he and Rhyth had something he and Beat hadn't.

Yoyo felt that heaviness in his heart even as night fell. But when he saw Beat he didn't make any hint or motion. He didn't smile. He didn't look. He didn't dare.

He ate chocolate and shared with Rhyth. He listened to Clutch tell a bad joke, and he even accompanied the fool and Cube to get a pizza. He acted normal enough. He laughed and played along. But Cube still took him aside before they re-entered the garage allowing Clutch to enter before them.

"You know," she said. "If you don't say anything it won't get any better."

She was right. But he didn't want to pressure Beat. And besides, everyone knew how awkward it was for Yoyo to express his feelings. He was feeling uneasy about everyone being able to read him like a book in this situation.

And then the GGs would sit around and some would smoke. Or drink. Or laugh. Or dance. Or whatever suits their fancy. And Beat would cross his arms over his belly and laugh, throwing his head back and letting his headphones slide back a little and his shirt to raise a little and expose tanned and toned skin. And Combo was the only person who made him do that. And Yoyo would stare.

Yoyo let the darkness wash over him as he lay in his cot that night. He let his eyes close and for the ordinary feeling of loneliness to wash over him. He remembered the night he confessed. It was only that night when he felt the gap between them close. That night Yoyo didn't feel 14, he felt ageless. He felt like happiness was available to everyone, even to someone like him, that fate had so often neglected. He was poor and mischievous and lonely. But for once he was needed and he liked that.

But he woke up the next morning to a cold cot, just as alone as he was before those words we spoken.

And now it was nearing 3 months to that first night, and he had never lain with Beat since, had never the pleasure of feeling the softness of his touch or to have the pleasure of his own heart beating quickly in his throat.

He felt more lonely than he did before it all started. He hurt one thousand times more. And yet he couldn't bring himself to regret it. He never could because he had hope that one night Beat would knock on his door as he did before. And Yoyo would make room. Because though his cot was built for one, there'd be always room for two.


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