Souji quickly slammed the door to his room and made his way over to the futon to lay down, rubbing himself through his shirt all the while. The relief it brought was wonderful, and in the back of his mind he wondered if it would leave red scratches.

Right now nothing mattered, though, not even these hot, stylish, uncomfortable, and itchy clothes. Itchy. Souji could hardly stand it, and it took all of his willpower to pretend like he wasn't about to burn the shirt he was wearing and go retrieve his mud-soaked one when he was hanging out with Yosuke. Souji wasn't some spoiled brat; he was raised to respect people and return kindness. So while Souji was mentally rebuking the God-forsaken shirt on his body, outwardly he thanked Yosuke for lending him a shirt.

He paused in his harsh scratching, an idea striking him.

He was in his own house. With his own clothes. His own shirts.

Saying a prayer of thanks Souji ripped off Yosuke's shirt and grabbed some lotion from the top of his dresser, hastily rubbing it over his chest to relieve the itching. As he pulled on a new shirt Souji made a mental note to encourage his friend to buy the more quality clothes from Junes.

And on the other side of town, Yosuke was experiencing the same thing.