Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The ceiling fan in Suguru’s bedroom made an awful clinking sound every time it spun, a high-pitched rhythm of metal on glass. It was extremely annoying, yet Suguru refused to turn the fan off. He’d grown accustomed to the sound, and without it, the room felt eerily quiet. Besides, Satoru seemed to find comfort in it just as much as he did. 

Satoru . Suguru had left him downstairs in the company of his parents, their muffled conversation mingling with the clink, clink, clink of the ceiling fan. His step-father was laughing loudly, probably at something Satoru had said. The sound boomed up the stairs and through the bedroom walls.

Suguru could imagine the scene perfectly. His step-father, Ren, drinking a beer behind the granite countertop and throwing his head back. His mother wrapping an arm around Satoru in a side-hug, leaning into him a little too much. And Satoru returning her affections with a tentative embrace, smiling at their reactions. 

Suguru had gone upstairs to avoid his parents. They would’ve asked him about his day, and he hated talking about his day with anyone other than Satoru. The day was just that. A day. And basketball practice was just that. Basketball practice. And as much as Suguru would’ve liked to have heard Satoru’s joke, it wasn’t worth the other conversations that came with it. 

Suguru lifted his hand, running a finger under the curtains. The sun was behind the neighbor’s house, the death of the day painted in vibrant colors across the late-summer sky. It was setting on the first week of senior year, and Suguru couldn’t have been happier. Only approximately 39 more to endure before graduation. 39 more until he walked across that stage, leaving with a handshake and a piece of paper. No honor roll. No special signatures. No outstanding scholarships. Just that fancy piece of printer paper. Nothing more. Nothing less. 

Maybe that was why he hated being around his parents. They expected academically excellent things that he couldn’t care less about. It wasn’t that they were pressuring him, because they weren’t… at least not openly. With them it was subtle, a silent glare lasting a little too long, or a comment left open for interpretation, but Suguru could always read between the lines. Always . 

Suguru sighed, letting the curtains fall closed and turning on the dim side lamp on his nightstand. The knots in his shoulders seemed tighter. The sweat from basketball practice seemed stickier. The ache in his knees bothered him more than usual. But Suguru could hear Satoru’s heavy footsteps on the stairwell and felt himself relax.

Satoru did his little knock on the door, three pounds of his fist followed by a silly jiggle of the handle before walking inside. 

“Sugu, Lisa asked about you,” he singsonged. He tossed his bags on the carpeted floor, the textbooks inside dropping with a thud. He sat on the foot of Suguru’s bed and crossed his legs, leaning his back against the wall. “You should go down and talk to her sometime tonight.” 

“Seriously?” Suguru complained, his eyes finding the ceiling fan again. Clink, clink, clink. 

Satoru grinned, tapping his knees to the uncoordinated beat of the fan. “Do you ever let your mom hug you?” he asked. “Because she sure likes hugging me .” 

Suguru laughed. “Was it a side hug?” 

“Three separate ones during the same conversation.” 

Suguru nodded, his suspicions confirmed. “Figures.” 

“How’d you know?” 

“I just did,” Suguru said, throwing his feet up on Satoru’s lap. “How else is a middle-aged, touch-deprived mother of one supposed to show affection towards her son that’s not her son?” 

“You’re hilarious. Truly,” Satoru said, resting his arms on Suguru’s ankles. 

There was a brief silence before Suguru asked, “Do you wanna stay the night?” 

“Sure.” 

“Cool.” 

“If we’re gonna sleep beside each other, you’re gonna have to take a shower because those feet… stink real bad, Sugu,” he said, pinching his nose and shivering. “ Real bad.” 

Suguru picked up his foot and slapped Satoru’s cheek with it. “You sure you’re not smelling your own feet?” 

“Oh no, it’s definitely your feet. I have the smell memorized.” 

Suguru deadpanned. “You did not just say that.” 

Satoru threw his head back and laughed, the sound unlike any laugh Suguru had heard before. It was bubbly, like suds in a hot bathtub. If Suguru could assign it a color, it would be a light shade of blue with little specks of gold glitter.  

“We should take a shower together. Just to make sure we’re both washing our feet of course,” Satoru suggested, raising his eyebrows. 

“The most popular people are the weirdest in private,” Suguru said with a laugh, tucking his sock feet under Satoru’s knees. “If everyone at school knew how fucking crazy you are, I’d be your only friend.” 

“Little does everyone at school know, you actually are my only friend,” Satoru said, smiling. “And besides, I think I’m pretty weird in public too.” 

“I am not your only friend,” Suguru assured. “Everyone loves you so don’t even play that card.” 

“You’re the only friend that matters,” Satoru said, shrugging. “I wouldn’t ask just anyone from school to take a shower with me, so that means you’re special.” 

“I’m not taking a shower with you, Satoru.” 

“Why not?” he complained. 

Suguru glared, putting his hands behind his head. “Are you trying to get me naked or something?” 

“Maybe,” Satoru said, a mischievous grin on his face. “I’d love to wash your hair. I bet you shed a lot in the shower.” 

“Shut the fuck up,” Suguru said, throwing a pillow at Satoru. How did he know? 

He caught it easily and placed it on Suguru’s stomach. 

“For somebody who flirts all the time, you sure are lonely, aren’t you?” Suguru said. 

“I got you . How can I be lonely?” 

“I meant a girlfriend, Satoru,” Suguru said, scanning him up and down. “You know? A girl . I’m sure there are plenty just itching for the chance to get with you.” 

 “Maybe I should make that my goal by the end of senior year. Get a girlfriend that’s not Suguru. Noted.” 

Suguru smiled, throwing the pillow back at Satoru. He caught it again, hugging it close to his chest this time. 

“Do you wanna take a shower before me?” Suguru asked. 

“Why don’t we just save water and shower together. For the environment’s sake.” 

“Take a shower,” Suguru said. “By yourself.” 

Satoru smiled and got up to leave, taking a clean pair of Suguru’s boxers and a t-shirt with him. “Do you know how many people would kill to have an opportunity like this?” 

Suguru laughed. “My mom would.” 

“Don’t be like that, Sugu,” Satoru said, trying and failing to keep a straight face as he slipped out the door and down the hall toward the bathroom. 

Suguru’s grin faded the longer he was alone. 

Clink, clink, clink. 

. . .

Suguru owned a very old, practically ancient, cat named Mimi. She was white with black spots and blue eyes. Ren had found her in a box on the side of the road when Suguru was in kindergarten, which meant, by all miracles of nature, Mimi was almost thirteen years old. She could barely see or hear, but somehow,  she could sense whenever Satoru was around because she’d hide under Suguru’s bed until the coast was clear. 

When Suguru woke to the weight of Mimi on his chest, he knew Satoru had left. He ran his hand over where Satoru should’ve been, feeling the imprint he’d left behind. He embraced Mimi, kissing the side of her face. She purred, the sound vibrating through Suguru’s chest. 

The fan was still clinking away. Sometimes, Suguru swore it had stopped, fixing itself when he was asleep, but after a few hard blinks and a short stretch, it started up again, the familiar sound reminding him it was morning. 

At least it was the weekend and not a school day. 

Satoru’s light blue laughter echoed up the stairs, which could mean only one thing. His mother was making breakfast. 

Suguru gently sat Mimi on his pillow, giving her a soft pat on the head before going downstairs. Satoru was seated at the breakfast bar, his white hair sticking in every direction. He still had sleep in his eyes, and he was mid-yawn when he first saw Suguru. 

“Good morning, sunshine,” he said through the yawn, giving him a big smile afterwards. 

Suguru sighed. “I told you to stop with the pet names.” 

“I can’t help it. You look so lovely in the mornings.” 

Suguru stared at his mother, watching her shoulders shake with laughter. 

“Can’t say the same about you,” Suguru said, messing up Satoru’s hair even more before sitting beside him. 

“Now you’re just being mean.” 

Suguru’s mother flipped a pancake in the frying pan, looking over at them. “You two will never change, will you?’ 

“I’m always so nice to Sugu. He’s the one hindering this friendship.” 

Suguru rolled his eyes, glaring at Satoru as his mother placed two plates of pancakes in front of them. “There’s not going to be a friendship if you don’t stop,” he said.

“Stop what?” Satoru asked, a sly grin on his face. 

Suguru ignored him, picking his plate up to take to his room. “Thank you, mom.” 

“Wait, Suguru,” she called out from the sink. “I meant to ask you yesterday, but I didn’t see you. How was your day at school?” 

Oh, the dreaded “how was your day” question. He was sure he’d escaped it. 

“The usual,” he said, shrugging. He turned back towards the stairs, but she called out to him again. 

“Satoru said you did well at basketball practice. What do you think the season will be like? It’s your last one, you know?” she continued, wringing her hands in a dish towel. 

Suguru shrugged again, subtly glaring at Satoru. “Probably no different than any of the past years. I think they just let me on the team so I can be a practice dummy for Satoru.” 

“That’s not true,” Satoru groaned, grabbing his plate and standing beside Suguru. “You’re on the team because you’re a good player.” 

“Good players don’t sit the bench. Besides, I’ve accepted it.” 

“You just have to keep practicing. I’m sure your coach will notice-” 

“Thank you, mom, but I really don’t need the extra encouragement. I’m not a star like Satoru, and I’m fine with that.” 

She nodded, obviously shutting down. “I’ll still be there to watch, okay.” 

Suguru forced a smile. He could tell he was disappointing her, and a tight, dreadful knot began to tighten in his stomach because of it. “At least you’ll get some action from Satoru.” 

She looked at Satoru, returning the smile he was giving her. 

“Why don’t we eat on the swings today, Sugu?” he interrupted, tugging the sleeve of Suguru’s t-shirt towards the back door. “It’s nice out.” 

When Suguru stepped outside into the late-August morning, he tried his best to shrug off the conversation with his mother. He liked to pretend basketball didn’t bother him, along with a lot of other things, but it was getting more and more difficult. Of course he wanted to play, be the star even, but that wasn’t in the cards he’d been dealt. He didn’t like her bringing it up, and when she did, which was every conversation, he felt the urge to lash out. He hated himself for it, because his mother was sweet, almost too sweet, like chocolate icing on chocolate cake with chocolate ice cream, and sometimes it was too much. 

“Do you really feel that way?” Satoru asked, sitting on his swing. “The whole practice dummy thing.” 

Suguru shrugged, sitting down beside him. “Yes and no.” 

He rocked back and forth, the swing creaking softly each time. Suguru couldn’t remember Ren putting up the swing, or when he and Satoru decided who got which side, but the nature of it was innate. The back of it faced the tall fence and the flower bed his mother kept up each spring and summer. In the winter, it became a graveyard for the previous year’s flowers. The front of it faced the back porch. It had been added on when Suguru was in middle school, and the wood didn’t match the brick at all. Even though it wasn’t aesthetically pleasing, Suguru liked it anyway. 

“Sugu, did you hear what I just said?” Satoru said through a mouthful of pancakes. 

“No.” 

“Why did you say ‘yes and no’ and not just ‘yes’ or ‘no’?” 

Suguru raised an eyebrow. “Sometimes yes and sometimes no. Is that better?” 

“Not really.” 

Suguru sighed, dragging his feet through the grass. It was still wet with the morning dew. “Let’s just move on from this topic of conversation please.” 

“I don’t want you to hate me over basketball. That would be stupid-”

“Please don’t worry about that,” Suguru said. “It would take a lot more for me to hate you.” 

“What would it take for you to hate me?” Satoru asked, the hint of a laugh in his voice. 

Suguru smiled. “Maybe if you killed my family, committed mass genocide or other unnamed war crimes, kidnapped children, murdered my cat-” 

“Okay, I get it,” Satoru said, stifling a laugh. “If I ever did any of those things, just know it would be completely by accident.” 

“Imagine if you accidently killed Mimi,” Suguru mused. 

“Not gonna lie to you, I sometimes fantasize about it.” 

“Oh, come on!” Suguru said, eyes widening. “She’s never done anything to you.” 

“I’ve tried to befriend her many times, and she just won’t have it.” 

“Maybe that’s a you problem and not a Mimi problem.” 

Satoru laughed, light blue emitting from him. “You tell Mimi that she better sleep with one eye open, okay?” 

“Not that it would matter. She’s blind.” 

Satoru grinned, setting his plate on the grass and swinging back and forth. “I think she’s putting on that act to make you feel sorry for her.” 

Suguru swung with him. His hair blew back and then forward again, some of the strands getting in his mouth. “So you think Mimi’s some kind of evil mastermind manipulating me into following her every command?” 

“Something like that,” Satoru said. 

They stayed on the swings for another hour, letting the comfort of childhood routines rub circles across their backs.

Chapter Text

Suguru rode the bus every Monday morning. He hated it. The yelling, the uncomfortable seats, the smell . God, he never missed Satoru’s 2002 Honda Civic more than he did on Monday mornings. 

The same girl sat next to him every time, and Suguru wondered who she sat with every other day of the week when Satoru would drive him. He had no idea what her name was, what her year was, or anything else about her. She had a Hello Kitty backpack, so Suguru resorted to calling her “Hello Kitty Girl” in his head. 

Suguru put his headphones on, hoping to drown out the shouting. How anyone had the energy to yell so early in the morning was beyond him. He turned the music up, tapping his fingers to the new songs Satoru had recommended him. Suguru was often too lazy to look for new music himself, so Satoru made him a playlist of ones he might like.

After the 30 minute bus ride, Suguru made his way to first period, following Hello Kitty Girl through the front door. Suguru attended a high school on the north end of town. It was aptly (and rather lazily) named North High. The school colors were black, gray, and dark purple, and everything from the walls, the lockers, the floor tiles, and the ceiling panels showed their school spirit. The first thing Suguru saw every morning was the trophy case, empty save the three basketball championship trophies from his freshman, sophomore, and junior years. The school district had Satoru to thank for all those. 

First period biology was Suguru’s least favorite class simply because he had absolutely no interest in science, especially the disturbing kind. They were slated to dissect cow hearts by the end of the week, and Suguru was planning to skip out on it in the locker room once he figured out the exact day. 

The biology teacher had obviously been teaching for a good while because he had a huge stick up his ass. Suguru often referred to him as Lord Farquaad because the resemblance was uncanny. 

The empty seat in front of him waited patiently for Satoru, the initials SG drawn emphatically in the corner in ink pen. He’s with his mother every Monday morning, and even though Suguru missed him, he didn’t expect Satoru to be anywhere else.

The bell rang. 

As much as Suguru wanted to pay attention, he was long past caring about his grades. From the brief snippets he heard between his daydreams, they were going over lab procedures for Thursday. So that was the day he was skipping. Perfect. 

His eyelids drooped, the soft tapping of a pencil near the back of the room droned him almost to sleep. There was a brief moment where he thought he might’ve been dreaming, Lord Farquaad’s voice morphing into a droning, nightmare-like noise. It wasn’t until Satoru finally checked in did he start to wake up. 

“Hey,” Satoru whispered loudly, plopping in front of him. “Let me see your notes.” 

Suguru looked up, his eyes widening. “Hi.” 

Satoru deadpanned. “Why is your notebook blank? You’ve been in class for thirty minutes already.” 

Suguru glanced at the board, cringing at the two pages of notes he’d completely missed. “Fuck.” 

“And don’t forget the lab on Thursday. We’re dissecting pigs, you know?” 

Suguru rolled his eyes, scrambling to copy the notes before the teacher took them off the board. “Yeah, there’s no way in hell I’m doing that. Besides, we’re dissecting cow hearts not pigs.” 

“Is there gonna be a lot of blood?” 

“No, idiot. They take all the blood out and put like… chemicals in it or something.” 

“Thank you for the highly scientific explanation, Sugu. I really appreciate it-” 

“Satoru, please quiet down!” Lord Farquaad yelled, forcing everyone to turn their heads in Satoru’s direction, some with annoyance and others with pained amusement. 

“Yeah, my bad,” he said, stifling a laugh before turning back around in his seat. 

Suguru grinned, covering his eyes to keep from laughing out loud. He looked up when a piece of paper landed on his desk. He unfolded it, his smile widening at Satoru’s messy chicken scratch. 

Dr. Suguru, 

You WILL dissect pig hearts with me on Thursday or else. 

Satoru <3 

Suguru breathed out a laugh and wrote his response: 

Satoru, 

We’re dissecting COW HEARTS. And I’ll go if you buy me food after practice. 

Suguru

P.S. Please stop using those stupid emoticon hearts when you’re writing a note. It’s weird. 

He gave it back to Satoru, watching his shoulders shake as he read the note. It was about ten seconds before he passed it back. 

Dr. Suguru, 

Fine. I’ll even buy you a milkshake to go along with it. 

Satoru ;) <333333

Suguru smiled and shoved the note in his backpack. The longer class went on, the more his smile faded. He wondered how, after every Monday morning, Satoru could act like he always did. Like nothing was wrong. 

. . .

After Biology, Suguru attended his favorite class of the day, photography. Rather than subject himself to the hell that was advanced weightlifting, Suguru opted for photography/yearbook class instead. The only downside was that Satoru wasn’t taking it with him. Technically, every varsity athlete was required to take advanced weightlifting during second period, but Suguru somehow got away with skipping out. 

The early morning fog was a heavy curtain, and when Suguru went outside with his classmates to take “student life” photos, he had trouble getting his camera to focus. So, he walked to the football stadium to escape it. 

The humidity made his hair curl at the ends, so he tied it up, little strands slipping into his eyes. Suguru brushed them away, half-jogging down the stadium stairs. 

One thing about North High that Suguru found hilarious was its inability to do any aesthetic upkeep. The stadium benches were chipped and splintered, weeds poked through the concrete stairs, grabbing at his ankles, and the mulch was eroded away, littered with cigarette butts and soda cans. 

Suguru smiled when he saw Satoru’s white hair circling around the track, leading a pack of other runners. He was in the front, because of course he was. 

When Suguru reached the chain-linked fence surrounding the football field, he slipped through the gate and aimed his lens. He followed Satoru through the camera as he ran the length of the opposite side. His strides were long, his arms hanging loose, his bangs sticking to his forehead, and Suguru focused on him, snapping candid photos laced with fog. 

Satoru rounded the corner, and Suguru could hear his breathing, an easy inhale followed by an exhale, falling in rhythm with the soft pound of his feet on the rubber. Suguru snapped a few more photos before Satoru saw him, a smile stretching across his reddened face. Suguru caught that moment too, cherishing the slight shift in Satoru’s eyes when he recognized him. 

He stopped running, placing his hands on his hips to talk to Suguru. The rest of the pack stared back but kept going, leaving the two of them alone. “Don’t you wish you were in this class with me?” 

“Oh, totally. I so wish I was running at the crack of dawn with a bunch of other sweaty guys.” 

“Crack of dawn?” Satoru said, smiling. “It’s a little past 10. That’s hardly the crack of dawn.” 

“It’s before noon, therefore it counts as the crack of dawn,” Suguru said. 

Suguru brought his camera up when Satoru started laughing, clicking the button with his finger. 

“Hey, did I say you had permission to take my picture?” Satoru complained, blocking out his face with his hands. “I look hideous.” 

Suguru rolled his eyes. “Shut the fuck up. The ladies will love these in the yearbook.” 

“Yearbook?!” Satoru exclaimed with an exaggerated sigh. “Sugu, you should’ve let me pose or something.” 

“It’s called candid photography. I gotta get you in your natural state.” 

“If that’s the case, let me take my shirt off for naturality’s sake,” Satoru said, winking. “I bet the yearbook staff would love it.” 

The pack of runners were coming around again and so was Satoru’s gym coach. “Satoru, have you finished your mile already?” the bald man yelled from across the field. 

Satoru groaned, watching as the runners approached them. “Maybe come back tomorrow morning, Sugu. I’ll be more photogenic… and shirtless.” 

“I’m taking photos of the art classes tomorrow morning, so this was your only chance.” 

“I’ll persuade you to take me up on the shirtless idea during lunch, okay?” Satoru said before falling into step with the other runners. 

Suguru waved goodbye to the back of Satoru’s head before looking at the photos he'd taken. No wonder everyone loved Satoru. He didn't have to try to be perfect. 

. . .

Satoru loved strawberry hard candies. Like… loved them. He had a bag of them in his backpack, a handful in his pocket, and one in his mouth at all times. Since Satoru’s grandfather lived with them, he would buy him a bag from the market every single day, and that same day, Satoru would finish the whole thing. 

Suguru could smell the strawberries on Satoru’s breath as they sat together under the stairs for lunch. They shared the same pair of earbuds, easy rock music playing on low volume, and their shoulders touched, just enough for Suguru to notice. 

This specific spot was Suguru’s favorite in the entire school, because it seemed like no one else knew it existed. Satoru had found it their freshman year when he had Saturday school detention. Suguru couldn’t remember why, probably for smoking or writing things on the wall. Either way, it’d led the both there for their lunch period every school day since. 

“Sugu?” Satoru said out of the blue.

“Yeah?” he answered, his mouth half-full. 

“You wanna go to 13th street this Saturday? Apparently everybody's going. ” 

Suguru nodded immediately. “For sure.” 

13th street was code for a random house that was actually on 11th street. There was a party hosted there almost every Friday when the weather was warm and on holidays during the other seasons. No one knew who actually owned the house, how it became the designated party house, or why they called it 13th street. It was universally accepted among North High students. 

“Sweet. We didn’t go enough this past summer.” 

Suguru shrugged in agreement, letting an easy silence fall between them. 

He wanted to ask about Satoru’s mother, but he always found that topic of conversation to be heavy and awkward. More so, he hated the look on Satoru’s face when it came up, like Suguru had pushed on an open wound, making the blood gush right out of him. 

Satoru sighed deeply, the scent of strawberries floating out his mouth like cigarette smoke. “I’m sorry you have to ride the bus every Monday. I know how much you hate it, and I tried to tell my grandpa that I drive you everyday-” 

“I don’t mind riding the bus, Satoru. Really, I don’t.” 

“I know,” he said, clutching his knees close to his chest. “I just hate the thought of you sitting alone on the bus. You must feel so sad-” 

“I don’t sit alone.” 

“What?” Satoru said, eyebrows raising. “I didn’t realize you had other friends besides me. Should I be jealous?” 

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” 

“Well… I’m literally the only person you talk to throughout the day, so pardon me for assuming,” Satoru said, a smile on his face. 

Suguru grinned, taking the earbud out of his ear. “Actually, Hello Kitty Girl and I don’t actually talk. We just sit in silence together until we get to school.” 

“Hello Kitty Girl?! Really, Sugu, you didn’t ask her name?” Satoru said. 

Suguru shrugged. “She wouldn’t have been able to hear me over the yelling anyway.” 

Satoru smiled. “I’m sorry you have to ride the bus.” 

“It’s really no problem. You should spend more time with your mom anyway.” 

At that, Satoru’s smile faded, his blue eyes clouding with sorrow for the briefest of moments before clearing again. “Believe it or not, she thinks I should spend more time with you .” 

“Now how could you possibly spend more time with me?” 

“That’s what I asked her this morning,” he said, the corners of his eyes lifting at the memory. “She said I should get a job at the movie theater with you.” 

“Ha. Not gonna happen.” 

“I always hang out there when you’re working anyway. She said I might as well get paid for it,” Satoru said. 

“Then why don’t you?” 

Satoru shrugged. “I don’t like working. Besides, your uniform is ugly.” 

Suguru scoffed. “It’s a little ugly.” 

“It’s a lot ugly.” 

Suguru nodded, laughing. “Yeah, I guess it is.” 

Satoru was quiet for a moment, letting an awkward silence form between them. This was exactly what Suguru was afraid of, this small breath of time where he couldn’t figure out what to say to Satoru. There was so much to say, yet no right way to say it.

“Satoru?”

He hummed. 

“How is your mom?” Suguru finally asked, cringing at the unsureness in his voice. “I mean… is she getting any better?” 

Satoru shrugged. “She’s the same. No worse, but no better either. It’s frustrating for me, as I’m sure it is for her too. I just thought… that the chemo would help. At least a little bit.” 

Suguru nodded. “It’s a waiting game.” 

“Yeah, I know,” he said, unwrapping another strawberry candy. “But this is the second time she’s been through this. The statistics aren’t… the best.” 

“Before the end of the year, I promise I’ll finally get my driver’s license, so you don’t have to worry about me anymore, okay?” Suguru said. 

Satoru crunched down hard on the strawberry, a loud crack sounding through his cheek. “I know it’s only on Mondays, and driving my mom to her chemo appointment is a big deal, and I love spending time with her and supporting her and everything else," he paused for a moment. "And I still 100% want to drive her on the one day out of the week my grandpa can’t… but I miss you on Monday mornings, Sugu. I love our little routines.” 

Suguru’s chest hurt, his rib cage suddenly too tight for his lungs. He tried to laugh it off, but the sound died in his throat. “You shouldn’t bite so hard on those candies. You’ll hurt your teeth,” Suguru said, winding up Satoru’s earbuds and handing them back. “And besides, we’ll be graduating soon. Might as well create a healthy distance while we still can.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Satoru groaned. “In my opinion, we should be spending as much time together as possible for that exact same reason.” 

Suguru grinned. "I was just kidding."

"When my mom gets better, I'll drive you every day of the week, okay?" 

Suguru nodded, the bell ringing harshly down the hallway. "Deal."

. . .

It was almost September. There was a coolness in the air, the quiet ghost of autumn whispering in Suguru’s ear as he stepped outside after practice. 

Satoru was lagging behind him, talking loudly with their teammates. He was laughing at something one of the others had said, light blue mixing with the orange sunset, and Suguru couldn’t help but wish he’d made Satoru laugh like that instead. 

“Sugu?” he yelled. “Do you wanna hang out at the lake tonight?” 

Suguru spun around, watching as Satoru jogged to catch up with him. His backpack bounced up and down, the loud crunch of strawberry wrappers jostling around in his bag. 

“If it’s just you, I’ll go,” Suguru said, smiling when Satoru reached him. “If not, I’m going home to wallow in my own misery.” 

“What misery?” Satoru asked, a small frown on his face. 

Suguru shrugged, getting in the passenger seat of Satoru’s silver 2002 Honda Civic. Everytime he got into the car, he saw the hot chocolate stain from last winter on his seat and smiled. Satoru was just learning how to drive and hit a curb. Suguru didn’t tell him this, but the hot chocolate had burned him through his pants.

 “I’m just being dramatic. I’ll go with you,” he said, stifling a laugh at the memory. 

The lake on the south end of town was privately owned, but no one seemed to mind if Satoru trespassed. Suguru imagined the rich townspeople looking out their windows, seeing Satoru’s white hair, and smiling in approval. Everyone in town knew Satoru, loved him even. Suguru couldn’t even blame them. What’s not to love? 

“It’ll just be us, I promise,” Satoru said, slinging his backpack in the back seat before slumping behind the steering wheel. 

Suguru sighed, buckling his seatbelt. “It’ll be too cold to go to the lake soon.” 

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” 

Satoru had an aversion to autumn and winter. He was a spring and summer kind of person, and Suguru could see why. During the spring, Satoru thawed. The ice in his eyes melted. The soft freckles on his cheeks resurfaced out of the cold. And his light blue laughter was much more frequent in the spring and summer months. He wondered if the same could be said about himself during autumn and winter, when the sun was dimmer and the blooms in his mother’s flower bed began to wilt. 

The drive to the lake was quiet, save the soft beat of Satoru’s music. Both their windows were rolled down to let the sweet evening breeze flow through the car. 

Suguru loved evenings more than any other time of day. Mornings were too heavy, too overwhelming. The sun too bright, or the fog too burdensome. If Suguru could assign mornings an emotion, it would be dread. Anything before noon was morning, and anything after noon and before the end of practice was… well… afternoon. Suguru didn’t care much for that time of day either. It was spent waiting for the evening. And evenings were always spent with Satoru. Either in one of their bedrooms, at the lake, or at the movie theater. They were always together during Suguru’s favorite time of day.  

“What’s better, sunrises or sunsets?” Satoru asked, looking over at Suguru. He had one hand on the steering wheel and the other out the window, his face still flushed from practice. 

“Sunsets. No contest.” 

“Totally,” Satoru said, his eyes fixed on the horizon as they drove through the familiar streets toward the lake. “This is the prettiest one I’ve seen in a while.”

“I wonder if sunsets look like this all around the world or just here,” Suguru mused. 

Satoru laughed. “It’s all the same sun, Sugu. I’m sure they all look similar at the very least.” 

“Yeah, I guess so,” Suguru said, watching as the uniform houses flipped by them like a film. They were all picture-perfect with rock facades, freshly mown lawns, and white picket fences, bathed in sunset orange. 

The lake was getting close, the sky widening over the water. Satoru pulled into the parking lot and took the key out of the ignition. “Hurry up so we can watch it set all the way down,” he said, rushing around the car and taking his mother's quilt out of the trunk. 

Suguru smiled at his urgency. One thing he loved about Satoru’s personality was his appreciation for little things like this. There would be a million more sunsets for him to watch in his lifetime, and he refused to miss this one on a random day at the end of August for no special reason at all. 

Suguru followed him to the lakeshore, the easy lapping of the waves making him a little sleepy. Satoru spread out the blanket and collapsed on it, running his hands across the coarse sand. “You ever have moments where you think, ‘Oh, yeah. Now I remember why I haven’t killed myself yet?’” Satoru asked, opening one eye and smiling. “This is one of those.” 

Suguru laughed, sitting cross-legged beside him. “I know exactly what you’re talking about.” 

“Do you?” 

“Yeah,” Suguru admitted. “It’s sad and funny at the same time, isn’t it?” 

Satoru hummed in agreement, sitting up to watch the sun. “Can we make plans to go to a real beach for spring break, Sugu?” 

“You mean this isn’t a real beach?” Suguru asked, trying to sound offended. He gestured to the extremely short shoreline and the washed up tree branches. 

Satoru grinned and shook his head. “I want to go to a beach where you can’t see what’s on the other side, you know? Like… endless ocean,” he said, making a rainbow motion with his hands towards the other side of the lake. 

“Maybe we can go this spring. Get a hotel and stay the weekend.” 

“Yesssss,” Satoru mused, closing his eyes. “I’m imagining you in a bathing suit right now.” 

Suguru laughed, shoving Satoru’s shoulder. “You’re so inappropriate. Besides, you’ve seen me in my swimming trunks before.” 

“Swimming trunks are not bathing suits,” Satoru joked. “I wanna see you in a bathing suit . Like in a speedo or one of those skin-tight wetsuits, maybe?” 

Suguru rolled his eyes, smiling to himself. “Imagine me in my green, mid-thigh length swimming trunks because that’s what you’re getting.” 

Satoru breathed out a laugh, clutching his knees close to his chest as the sun hung low to the cliffs. “Promise me we’ll go to the beach this spring,” he said. “Promise me for real.” 

“I promise,” Suguru said, pulling his knees up too. “So long as you drive us.” 

“I want us to survive the trip, so I’m definitely driving.” 

“When we’re hanging out on the beach together, the waves crashing and the sun shining, it’ll be one of those moments that remind us of why we didn’t kill ourselves,” Suguru said, the sun disappearing in a burst of color behind the treeline. 

“Exactly,” Satoru said. “It’ll be an even better moment if you decide to go the speedo route.” 

“Shut the fuck up.”

Chapter Text

Suguru had worked at the same movie theater for the past year, and ever since Satoru had called the uniform ugly, Suguru was hyper aware of how ridiculous he looked. He wore a white button-up undershirt, black dress pants, a red vest with gold buttons, a black bowtie, and a gold name tag. It was missing the final “u” off his name from where he’d accidentally washed it with the name tag still on. 

It was the Friday midnight shift, and every high schooler in the vicinity was there to see the new superhero movie. Suguru couldn’t bother to remember the name, but it was probably some variation of “man” combined with a random animal. Suguru imagined how lame “cowman” would be in a film, shivering at the thought of yesterday’s cow heart dissection lab. The ice cream after practice was not worth it, especially since Satoru had been his lab partner. Suguru ended up doing all of the work because Satoru was too “faint” to continue the project.  

Speaking of Satoru, he was playing a tetris game on his phone at the theater’s newly installed mini bar. Apparently, the company claimed they were “catering to the adult audience” by adding in the bar, but Satoru was the only person who hung out there. And oh did he “hang out” there… every. damn. shift. 

He sat cross-legged on a barstool, drinking the virgin margaritas Suguru made for him. Satoru always tried to convince him to put alcohol in the drinks, and Suguru often said he spiked it when he really didn’t. The funny thing was, Satoru couldn’t tell the difference, and Suguru loved seeing the placebo effect in action. 

“Hey, Sugu!” Satoru called out, gesturing toward his empty drink. “Refill.” 

“You could ask nicely, you know?” Suguru complained, walking over from the ticket stand to the mini bar. All the movie goers had gone inside the theater, the opening action scene booming through the walls. 

“I am a customer. You must serve me,” he said, grinning. 

“Are you gonna tip me?” 

“Do you want me to shove some money in your bra or something?” 

Suguru laughed, putting a new lemon on the edge of Satoru’s glass. “You think you’re so funny, don’t you?” 

“I should write my own comedy show,” Satoru said, taking a sip and raising an eyebrow. “Did you put tequila in this?” 

“Shh, the boss will hear you,” Suguru said, bringing his finger to his lips. “Technically, I’m not supposed to be mixing drinks. Much less with alcohol. And much less for free.” 

Satoru smiled, widening his eyes as he took another sip. “You get me, Sugu. You so get me. And your boss is nice. Don’t worry about it.” 

Suguru giggled, proud of himself for successfully lying to Satoru about the alcohol content. “She’s nice to you. ” 

Suguru’s boss was a short, stout old woman with a permanent scowl on her face. Unless Satoru was talking to her, then she smiled, her voice getting pitchy. ISatoru could imitate her voice so well, and it made Suguru laugh every time. 

“Where is she today anyway?” Satoru asked. “Shouldn’t she be out here chastising you for talking to me while you’re on the clock?” 

“She’s probably asleep in the back. It’s past her bedtime.” 

Satoru smiled. “You’re harsh.” 

“It was a joke.” 

“I think if she watched this new superhero movie she’d go into cardiac arrest,” Satoru said, staring at a poster plastered on the wall. The top left corner was folding in on itself, but Suguru was too lazy to walk over and fix it. 

“I hate superhero movies. They’re too predictable,” Suguru said. 

“I like them because they’re predictable.” 

“Why would you want to watch something you can figure out the ending to within the first five minutes?” 

Satoru shrugged. “There isn’t as much anxiety. That’s why I watch the same cartoons over and over again.” 

“If you could make your own movie, what would the plot be?” 

Satoru grinned, taking another sip of his margarita (the virginity still very much intact whether he knew it or not). “The story of your life.” 

“Of my life?” Suguru asked, astonished. “Now why would you waste your time with that?” 

“You’re such a main character, Sugu. You have no idea.” 

Suguru glared. “ Right . If either of us is the main character, it’s you.” 

“I beg to differ,” Satoru said, smiling. He reached into his pocket, fishing for a strawberry candy. 

“You’re such a liar,” Suguru said, rolling his eyes. “I would be the stoic, comic relief character in your coming of age story.” 

“Absolutely not,” Satoru said. “I’m the mindless jock, best friend character in your coming of age story. And all our fans would ship us together.” He popped a hard candy in his mouth. “I bet they’d write fanfiction about us too.” 

“Oh, shut up,” Suguru said, laughing. “I think those margaritas have gone to your head.” 

“I don’t get drunk,” Satoru said, taking another sip. “The mindless jock, best friend character is never a lightweight.” 

“Yeah… tomorrow’s the 13th street party, so let’s see how well you do then.” 

“I don’t get drunk , Sugu,” he repeated. “I’m totally responsible.”  

. . .

Satoru was so drunk it was beyond concerning. Of course, Suguru should’ve expected this, since he got drunk at every 13th street party, but he was different that weekend. Like he was on a mission to get absolutely shitfaced, blackout, totally-hammered drunk. 

As Suguru sat in a smoke circle around the bonfire, watching in horror as Satoru staggered and puked his guts up off the back porch, he remembered exactly how that night started, partly wishing he could go back and decide never to go to the party in the first place…

“I can’t believe your parents didn’t ask any questions,” Satoru said, throwing a dirty pair of shorts out of his passenger seat to make room for Suguru. “Do they not care about you going to 13th?” 

He grinned, partly at Satoru’s question and at the hot chocolate stain in the seat cover. It never failed to make him laugh. “Of course they care. I lied and said I was going to the library for late-night studying with you and not to wait up for me. I even put vaguely human-looking pillows under my blankets in case they come to check on me in the middle of the night. Unless Mimi spills the beans, I should be good.” 

“You’re such a rebel, Sugu,” Satoru said with a smile, putting the car in gear. “This is why I said I was the side-kick in your movie and not the other way around.” 

“Don’t mock me,” Suguru said, glaring. “It takes incredible skill to lie to strict parents.” 

“I just think it's funny how you have strict parents, but that literally did nothing to stop you from breaking their rules.” 

“That’s the thing about it, Satoru. My parents didn’t deter me from partying, drinking, what-have-you. They just forced me to figure out smarter ways to get away with doing it.” 

“Speaking of your parents, did you tell them about that thing you said you were gonna tell them like… months ago?” Satoru asked, stopping at a redlight and raising an eyebrow. 

There wasn’t a moon that night, and the sky was void of stars. It was like a black sheet had been draped over everything, holding them captive until morning. 

“I didn’t tell them,” Suguru said, staring out the window. “I would actually rather die than have that conversation.” 

“Dramatic much?”

“It’s different for you. You’re gonna get a full-ride to some basketball college, study business or some shit, and do perfectly just like always,” Suguru said, sighing. “And I’ll go to college… eventually. I just don’t know where or what for. I need a year off for my own sanity.” 

Satoru sighed, gripping tightly to the steering wheel. “We should go to college together.” 

Suguru smiled at him. “Are you that attached to me?” 

“Ha. No,” Satoru said, suppressing a grin. “Maybe.” 

“I’m just gonna go with the flow. I hate worrying,” Suguru said. 

“The phrase ‘go with the flow’ is the stupidest phrase ever.” 

“Why’s that?” 

“Think about it, Sugu. When you say ‘go with the flow,’ do you actually go with the flow?” 

Suguru gave him the side-eye. “Let me have this, Satoru. Don’t ruin it.” 

Satoru laughed, pulling down 11th street aka 13th street. “Why don’t we ‘go with the flow’ tonight at the party?” he asked, giving Suguru a wink-wink, nudge-nudge. 

“I’m not drinking. You’re not changing my mind.” 

“Oh, come on!” Satoru complained. “It’s much more fun when both of us get drunk.” 

“I drooled all over your dashboard last time I had alcohol. It’s not happening.” 

“Pretty please,” Satoru said, giving him a puppy dog face. “At least do one shot.” 

“No.” 

“You suck.” 

“Real mature.” 

“What’s the point if you don’t get at least a little bit tipsy?” Satoru asked, grinning as the house came into view. The LED lights were changing colors, a decent-sized bonfire crackled in the backyard, and several students were smoking, drinking, and making out in the front lawn. 

“I get to watch you drink,” he said as Satoru parallel parked on the opposite side of the street. “You have no idea how entertaining that is.” 

Satoru laughed, light blue streaking across the blackened night. The sound made Suguru laugh too, and he wondered what color Satoru would assign his laughter or if he would think the whole concept was stupid.

“Please make sure I make it out of this party alive,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets as they walked to the front door. “And make sure no one roofies me.” 

Suguru huffed, staring as his sneakers rolled across the asphalt road when he walked. “You got it.” 

The bass echoed through the walls, the muffled sound vibrating in Suguru’s chest. It was joined by crowd noise, students singing along to the lyrics, talking, or drunkenly laughing. 

Satoru turned around, back-pedaling up the sidewalk. “Are you gonna drive us home after this?” he asked, leaning forward to grab Suguru’s wrist and pulling him along. 

“You know I’m a terrible driver. Not to mention the fact that since I don’t have a license, it would be illegal.” 

“Just stay on your side of the road and you’ll be fine,” he said, slipping past the crowd at the door. 

Several guys shouted greetings to Satoru, shaking his hand in that weird pre-established way guys always did, until they got inside. Satoru turned back for a second, his gaze scanning for Suguru in the crowd before he found him, his eyes smiling before his lips. 

Satoru shouted something, but Suguru couldn’t hear him over the music. The vibrations were stronger inside, and as Suguru slipped through the crowd of North High students, he remembered, with both happiness and annoyance, that he actually enjoyed going to parties with Satoru, a knowing smile spreading across his face. 

Suguru knew the layout of the 13th street house like the back of his hand, and when Satoru led to the kitchen near the back of the house, he wasn’t the least bit surprised. This was where they always went first. How was anyone supposed to have fun at a party without a shot of vodka to kick it off? 

Satoru got his first drink, a fruity concoction of what looked like kool aid, pineapple chunks, and some variety of liquor, out of a five-gallon tub. “You want a piece of the pineapple?” he asked, taking a sip of his drink. 

Suguru glared, leaning his back against the counter. “How stupid do you think I am?” 

“It worked on you last time,” Satoru said, laughing as he stood beside Suguru, their shoulders touching.

“I was naive back then and you took advantage of me,” Suguru said. “How was I supposed to know the fruit was the most dangerous part?” 

“A couple of pineapple chunks and you were drooling on my dash. Now that’s a pipeline of events.” 

Suguru laughed. “Must we rehash this?” 

“Yes, we must, Mr. Cool, Calm, and Collected.” 

Suguru got his own solo cup, filling it with sink water. “I like that title. Maybe you should call me that more often.” 

“Don’t count on it,” Satoru said, already needing a refill. “I’m attached to calling you Sugu.” 

“You’re walking a thin line with that nickname too.” 

“Am I?” he asked, his voice pitching up. “I think you like it.”

“What makes you think that?” Suguru asked, smiling at the heat on Satoru’s cheeks. Despite what he always claimed, Satoru was such a lightweight. Not only that, he was one of those touch-deprived drunks, and Suguru was often the object of his affections. 

“Look at you, Sugu. You’re blushing,” Satoru said, popping a pineapple chunk in his mouth. “You’re too cute.” 

“You’re already tipsy, aren’t you?” he said with a laugh. “Your level of annoyance doubles when you’re drunk.” 

“Nah, I’m totally good,” he said, leaning his head on Suguru’s shoulder.

“Satoru?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Get off me,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “Why do you always get so touchy?”  

“Come dance with me, Sugu,” he said, ignoring the question. “You never dance with me at the parties.” 

“And I won’t dance with you at this one either,” Suguru said, laughing at Satoru’s fake crying. “I’m rhythmically challenged.” 

“I bet if you danced with me, you’d fall in love with me,” Satoru said, grabbing Suguru’s wrist to drag him towards the dance floor. 

Suguru looked out at the crowd, vape smoke billowing above them in a peach-scented cloud. He didn’t want to dance, much less in the middle of a bunch of sweaty high school students. But that wasn’t all it was… he focused on the words Satoru had just said, each syllable resurfacing from underneath the music. He stared at Satoru, the LED lights changing the color of his white hair, so much so it didn’t seem white anymore. His eyes were still blue though, painfully blue. Suguru knew he was staring, frozen like a deer in headlights, and Satoru was noticing, a knowing smile stretching across his face. 

“What’re you thinking about?” he asked, laughing. “You wanna dance with me, don’t you?” 

“No,” Suguru said, forcing a smile. He needed to look away, needed Satoru to let go of him. Maybe he should’ve gotten a drink after all… 

“Come on! Once you get out there, you’ll forget all about your nerves-” 

“No,” Suguru said, trying to play off whatever he was feeling. He didn’t know how to describe it. Like some precious equilibrium had been tipped, causing Suguru’s mind to seesaw back and forth and out of control. “You go on. I’ll keep an eye on the pineapple chunks, okay?” 

Satoru’s face fell, the blush on his cheeks deepening. “Okay, then. Please come find me if you change your mind.” 

Suguru nodded, watching as Satoru joined the crowd. There was a big cheer when they saw him. Someone handed Satoru another drink, and he took it immediately, downing the whole thing in one gulp. They cheered for that too, alcohol dripping down his chin and soaking into the neckline of his shirt. 

Suguru refilled his cup with more sink water before walking over to the couch by the dancefloor. He sat down and placed his hand on the armrest, immediately taking it off when he realized it was damp. 

His lips parted, his eyes glued to Satoru as he danced. He had a drink in one hand, taking long, easy sips, and the other was trailing up and down a girl’s hip, fingers slipping underneath her waistband. 

Suguru counted the number of drinks Satoru had. He downed one, two, three, four, upwards of five drinks on the dancefloor, and the number was only growing. Suguru had never seen Satoru drink that much. Ever. 

When he wasn’t drinking he was kissing that girl, rolling his hips into her. However hard Suguru tried, he couldn’t come up with a good movie character to compare her to. It was beyond frustrating. Satoru was laughing, a light blue glow emitting from him, and Suguru couldn’t help but watch, having to remind himself to keep breathing. 

On Satoru’s seventh drink, Suguru forced himself to look away, swirling the water around in his cup. He swallowed the lump in his throat, wondering why it was even there in the first place. Staring at the scuffs on the hardwood floor, Suguru sighed. He wanted to leave the party, leave Satoru too. He needed to go somewhere he could hear his thoughts, and in an effort to escape, he half-stood up searching out in the crowd for Satoru again, almost without meaning to, but he was gone. His white hair was nowhere to be seen, and Suguru felt a small itch of panic creep up his neck like hives. He shoved it down, down, down, getting off the couch to find the bathroom. His thoughts were scrambled, sweat beading across his back, reminding him of how bad he wanted to leave. 

He left his solo cup on the side-table, slipping through the crowd and back to the kitchen. He stood at the breakfast bar for a moment, a couple of basketball guys shouting out a greeting from the tub of pineapple chunks. 

“Did you come with Satoru?” one asked. Suguru called him Tiny behind his back, mainly because of how impossibly short he was. Maybe that was why no one particularly liked Suguru that much. He could never remember anyone’s names. It wasn’t that he meant to forget. He just did. 

“Yeah. Have you seen him?” Suguru yelled over the music. 

Tiny shook his head. “If he’s not attached to your hip like some lost puppy, I have no idea where he is.” 

The comment got under Suguru’s skin, squirming through his veins like a parasite. “You couldn’t have just said no?” 

He grinned, placing a pineapple chunk between his teeth. “I could’ve .” 

He turned to leave, Tiny’s gaze searing into his back like lasers. Suguru tried not to care. Tried not to care about Satoru getting so drunk, about Tiny’s comment, about the gnawing pain in his chest, put there by something he could not name. Did not want to name. 

He was half-running up the stairs to the bathroom, wishing he could blame his headache on the alcohol he hadn’t drunk. He slipped past a couple making out, a small smoke circle, and a guy just sitting on his phone, before finally making it to the bathroom door. 

He’d had panic attacks in the past, before a big game or after a fight with Ren when he was younger, but this panic was seemingly from nothing. It made Suguru angry, and in his haze, he opened a door. Not the bathroom door, but a random door he’d never opened before, and although he was barely able to focus at all, what he saw in that room was crystal clear, so clear in fact, it was involuntarily tattooed into his brain. 

It was Satoru. Of course it was. He could tell by the hair, the curve of his back, and the sound of his voice… God, his voice.  

He was on top of her, his shirt on the floor, and her hands were on his back, tracing his muscles and pulling him closer. They were kissing, the soft click of their mouths mixing with the sound of their bodies moving together. The room had a certain smell to it too. A hot, sweet smell that resembled Satoru’s strawberry candies. Suguru’s heart dropped into the depths of his stomach, rose into his throat, and pounded through his rib cage all at the same time. 

He didn’t know how long he watched. It could’ve been a matter of milliseconds or a never-ending eternity. By the time he slowly closed the door, neither of them even noticing he’d been there, did his panic overflow. 

He jogged back down the stairs, heading towards the back door. The air was too heavy, weighted with vape smoke and the smell of weed. It was too warm, the small beads of sweat beginning to pool across his forehead. The music was too loud, the sound distorting any logical thought he had. 

He pushed past Tiny, their shoulders colliding, until finally he made it outside to the backyard, the screen door slamming loudly behind him. 

Another smoke circle sat around the bonfire, their eyes staring at him, through him. Suguru walked toward the fire, hyper aware of the way his strides fell across the grass. He sat in an empty lawn chair, eyes wide, breaths rapid, hands shaking, heart palpitating, and the music was still blaring through the walls which didn’t help anything. Except he was outside now, and the nighttime September air was cooling his face, making the party seem like separate dimension he had  narrowly escaped. 

Five pairs of eyes were still on him, an awkward silence soaking him like a downpour. Suguru was too desperate for fresh air to care about how awkward it was, his chest rising and falling over and over again. 

“Uh, Suguru?” said a quiet voice beside him. 

He looked over, eyes widening in recognition. “Yeah?” he answered, breathless. 

“Your nose is bleeding,” Hello Kitty Girl said, handing him a tissue out of her purse. 

Surprised, he took it from her, wiping the blood off his face. He could taste the bitter iron, dark red staining the tissue, seeping through it like water through soil. “Thank you,” he said, applying as much pressure as he could. 

“Are you alright?” she whispered. The rest of the group divided into their own conversations, seemingly too high to pay attention to him for much longer. He was grateful for that. “You look bad.” 

“I look bad?” he asked, tilting his head back. “Should I be offended?” 

She giggled, placing a blunt between her lips. “I was just concerned. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

Before he allowed himself to remember, Suguru brushed it off. “I get claustrophobic in crowds,” he half-lied. The image of Satoru… with that girl… they were-

“Do you get nosebleeds often?” 

“Not since I was a kid,” he said. “But, I promise. It's not a big deal.” 

“You come to these parties a lot though, don’t you?” she asked, passing him the blunt. “Shouldn’t you be used to the crowds by now?” 

Suguru took it, still holding the tissue to his nose. “Do you normally ask this many questions?” 

She opened her mouth to answer, but one of the guys interrupted, staring at Suguru from across the bonfire. “Hey. Where’s your boyfriend?” 

He raised an eyebrow. “You mean Satoru?” 

“Yeah,” he said, snickering. “Yeah, I mean Satoru.” 

Hello Kitty Girl raised her eyebrows, awaiting an answer. 

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Suguru said sternly. The unknown boy looked like a little bug, his eyes too big for his head. “And I assume he’s still inside.” 

Bug Boy raised his hands in mock surrender. “I didn’t mean to hit a nerve. It’s just weird to see you going solo.” 

“Take a picture. It’ll last longer,” Suguru said, feeling the soft buzz from the weed ease him away from the ledge. 

Bug Boy laughed, almost genuinely, before turning away, a cloud of vape smoke rising from his mouth and through his nose. 

“You’re pretty funny,” Hello Kitty Girl said, covering her mouth.

Suguru smiled, the panicked knot in his chest unwinding itself slowly but surely. “Don’t tell anyone.” 

She laughed, nodding. “Your secret’s safe with me.” 

After that, the night grew quiet for Suguru. As the party raged on inside, he smoked blunt after blunt in the lawn chair, watching the bonfire slowly die to orange embers. It wasn’t that he’d forgotten about Satoru, but he’d pushed his feelings to the back of his mind, locking them inside a forbidden box. He didn’t want to acknowledge the way they completely incapacitated him, making his stomach churn and his nose bleed. He masked it with smoke, wondering how long it would take for it to clear. It didn’t take long at all. In fact, right as Suguru thought he’d calmed down enough to tolerate the rest of the night, Satoru staggered out the back door, puking his guts up off the porch. His shirt was half-on, sweat was pouring off him, and his eyes were searching, almost desperately, for Suguru. 

“Hey, Sugu!” he yelled, almost falling down the short flight of stairs.  

“Sugu?” Hello Kitty Girl whispered, stifling a laugh. 

“Hey,” Suguru said, ignoring her. He stood up a little too fast, the blood rushing in his head. 

Satoru leaned against the railing, doubled over with dizziness. “I think I need to go home.” 

“You think so?” Suguru asked, placing a hand on Satoru’s shoulder. “I’ve never seen you so drunk in my life.” 

“Yeah… well,” he said between labored breaths. “I’ve never felt so drunk in my life.” 

Suguru rubbed Satoru’s back in easy circles, lingering on the back of his neck. “Satoru, I don’t know how to drive.” 

“You’re really spinning, Sugu. Like… really spinning,” he said, slumping further to the ground. 

Suguru paused, taking his hand off Satoru’s back. “Can you make it to the car?” 

“Keep doing what you’re doing,” Satoru complained, grabbing Suguru’s wrist and placing it on his back again. “It feels nice.” 

Suguru sighed. He remembered the way Satoru had been dancing, the way he’d touched that girl, the way he’d fucked her… 

Suguru pulled away, his palm burning. “Let’s go,” he said, wrapping Satoru’s arm around his shoulders and walking him back to the car. 

They staggered around the house, past knocked-out drunks, littered red solo cups, and piles of puke. Satoru was slurring something incoherent, his breath smelling like strawberries and liquor. “Sugu?” he kept saying, over and over. 

“What?” Suguru snapped, almost angry. 

“Thank you for taking care of me,” he said, leaning against the civic. “This is really embarrassing.” 

“Satoru, why did you drink so much?” Suguru asked, fishing for Satoru’s car keys in the pocket of his jeans, pulling them out through a sea of candy wrappers. “You look terrible.” 

“I don’t know,” he whispered, his eyes fluttering. “I just… I have a lot of things I’d rather forget about... At least for a few hours.”

Suguru paused, fiddling with the key in the lock. “What things?” he asked, but Satoru had already passed out, his head slumped forward. 

Suguru lifted him into the passenger seat, started the car (at least he knew that part), and lurched forward. He was about halfway home already when he figured out how to turn the headlights on. He tried not to think too much on the drive, focusing solely on making it home without crashing the car. In what felt like an eternity and no time at all, Suguru parked in front of his house, remembering to turn off the headlights, and looked over at Satoru. 

His chest rose and fell in an easy rhythm, his shirt only covering the top half of his chest. Suguru watched his breath, his hand twitching lightly in sleep, and he wondered what he could possibly be dreaming about. Was he dreaming about the girl? Or something else entirely? 

Suguru kept wondering as he carried Satoru into his house, carefully tip-toed up the stairs, and laid him down in his bed. Immediately, Mimi hid, slinking behind Suguru’s bookcase when he switched on the lamp. Suguru sighed, looking at his alarm clock. 4:33 am… great. 

Clink, clink, clink. 

Satoru shifted, wrapping a leg around the pillows Suguru had used to fake out his parents, and his breathing deepened, sleep stealing him further away. Suguru pulled Satoru’s shoes off, staring at the side of the bed he usually slept on when Satoru spent the night. 

He stared, and stared, and stared at the empty spot on the bed, before turning off the lamp, sneaking back down the stairs, and crashing on the couch. He couldn’t bring himself to sleep beside Satoru that night like he always had, and he couldn’t, for the life of him, figure out why.

Chapter Text

There were select days when basketball practice would get canceled. Their coach called it a “dead day,” which was both fully accurate and borderline degrading. On dead days, Suguru either spent them working at the theater or, God forbid, studying. 

“Hey,” Satoru whispered from across the library table, his voice coming from someplace far away. “Can you explain this to me?” 

Suguru looked up, trying to play off the fact that he’d been napping. “What?” he asked, his eyes trying to focus. 

“Sugu… we’re supposed to be studying, not catching up on sleep,” he said, smiling. “You’re not fooling anyone by pretending to read.” 

“I’m tired,” he complained, rubbing his face. “And I hate biology.” 

"I know, but you're still better at it than me."

"Satoru… that doesn't mean I don't still suck."

Satoru laughed. "I'm gonna pretend you didn't just insult me."

Suguru sighed, unable to suppress his smile. He stared at Satoru’s textbook, his face falling at the anatomical diagrams. “Don’t ask me for help with that. I have no fucking clue,” he said. 

Satoru lifted his book, almost hiding behind it. “I’m going to quiz you.” 

“Stop.” 

“What lobe of the brain is most associated with cognition? Go.” 

Suguru deadpanned. “The first one.” 

“It’s the frontal lobe,” Satoru said, smiling, “But I accept your answer of ‘the first one.’” 

“Would Lord Farquaad accept that answer?” 

Satoru laughed, snorting a little. “If you put an emoticon heart next to your answer like I do on tests, he definitely would.” 

“You do not do that!” 

“You doubt me?” he asked, pulling his folder out of his bag. “Here’s the proof.” 

Suguru stared at Satoru’s previous exam, jaw dropping at the emoticon hearts next to not just one, but all of his answers. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” he asked. “And how the hell did you get a good grade?” 

“No matter how many times I do it, he never acknowledges it,” Satoru said, ignoring the good grade question. “Maybe I should switch it to a smiley face for the final. Keep him guessing, you know?” 

Suguru shook his head, closing his textbook. “That’s such a great idea. Definitely do it.” 

“For real?” Satoru asked, his voice pitching up. 

Suguru rolled his eyes, smiling. “Yeah, for real.” 

Satoru sighed, twirling his pencil across his knuckles. “Deal.” 

“Are you gonna keep quizzing me, or can we go home?” Suguru asked, staring outside at the night sky. Dead day was over. 

“Let’s go home,” Satoru said much to Suguru’s relief. “I can’t believe we wasted a dead day at the library. We’re stupid.” 

“ You’re the one who suggested it,” Suguru complained, resting his chin on his hand. “ I wanted to stay at home.” 

“You didn’t like the change in scenery?” Satoru asked, pouting. “This place is… scholarly.” 

Suguru glared. “Scholarly or not, I still ended up sleeping.” 

Satoru grinned, packing up his things. “It’s past 8. We should head back anyway.” 

There was a brief pause before Suguru asked, “Wanna stay the night?” 

“Sure.” 

“Cool.” 

They quietly snuck out of the library through countless bookshelves, past slumped over students, and by a vending machine that Suguru had to practically drag Satoru away from. Once they reached the door, the mid-September air settling over them, Suguru had one of those moments. The ones that, in Satoru’s words, reminded him of why he hadn’t killed himself yet, the realization making him smile.

“Hey, Sugu?” Satoru asked as they began their walk back to Suguru’s house. He had his hands in his pockets, his gaze fixed on the lamp-lit sidewalk. “I never thanked you for last Saturday. I was totally wasted, and I put you in dangerous position, especially since you don’t know how to drive yet, and I-” 

“It’s fine,” Suguru assured. “I haven’t even thought about it since.” 

A lie. A total lie. 

“I find that hard to believe,” Satoru said. “I know you, Sugu. Like… really know you.” 

Suguru was quiet, the events of last Saturday’s 13th street party replaying in perfect detail through his mind as they walked. He wanted to pretend the driving part hurt him the most, but that wasn’t it. He didn’t want to talk about it, think about it, acknowledge it-

“Sugu?” Satoru said, stopping under a streetlight. “Tell me what you’re thinking. We haven’t talked about this at all, and it’s been three days.”

Suguru stopped too, facing Satoru. An easy autumn breeze blew by, ruffling Satoru’s bangs, and he could see the worry in his eyes, like he’d done one of the very few things that would’ve made Suguru hate him and was just waiting for the consequences. 

Suguru sighed, not quite knowing what to say. “It’s fine,” he repeated. “I needed the driving practice anyway.” 

“I should’ve been helping you, though. Like… did you even know how to turn on the headlights? What if it had rained? Would you’ve been able to work the windshield wipers? And I know how anxious you can get sometimes, and I-” 

“Satoru, it’s fine. Seriously, don’t worry about it, okay?” Suguru said, desperate to get off this topic. What if Satoru figured out the real reason they hadn’t talked about the party? Did Suguru even know the real reason? “We both made it back alive. That’s all that matters.” 

Satoru kept looking at his feet, shuffling them across the sidewalk. “For my peace of mind, did you ever figure out how to turn on the headlights at least?” 

Suguru grinned. “I did. I was already halfway to my house though.” 

Satoru huffed, wringing his hands together. “Figures.” 

“Let’s go home. It’s getting late,” Suguru said, starting to walk again. 

Satoru jogged to catch up. “Do we have to go back to your house right now?” 

Suguru glared. “Whatever it is, no.” 

“Let’s go swimming,” Satoru said, ignoring Suguru’s protests. “Last time this summer?” 

“Technically, it’s autumn already.” 

“Please.” 

“No.” 

“ Please ,” Satoru said, clasping his hands in a praying motion. “I’ll… drive you to school tomorrow.” 

“You always drive me to school on Wednesdays.” 

Satoru sighed, grabbing Suguru’s wrist and pulling him toward the crosswalk. “I know you want to,” he said, smiling. “It’ll be fun.” 

Suguru shook his head, grinning in compliance. Without Satoru, he was sure he’d stay in his room all day long, rotting away like flowers in the winter. It was always Satoru that forced him out into the sun, making sure he got the energy he needed. He’d have to thank him for doing that sometime soon, at least before graduation. “Fine, but we have to be back by at least 10. Got it?” 

“Got it.” 

. . .

The city pool had been closed for almost two weeks now, but the jets were still running and the lights were still on, casting a watery blue glow on the pavement. 

“It’s probably gonna be cold,” Satoru said, eyeing the water from the other side of the black metal gate. “I’d say the risk of hypothermia is 25%.” 

Suguru glared. “You’re an idiot. We’re not gonna get hypothermia.” 

Satoru smiled, throwing his backpack over the gate and climbing up. “We might have to huddle for warmth.” 

“Yeah, not happening,” Suguru said, mimicking Satoru’s hand placements as he climbed over the gate himself. 

Satoru landed on the other side with a thud, his feet planted and a smile on his face. “I can dream.” 

Suguru landed beside him, looking out at the pool. The last time he’d been there was back in early summer, right at the beginning of June. Satoru had forced him out with some of the other basketball boys. If Suguru remembered right, which he often did when it came to Satoru, he’d gotten sunburnt, and he’d forced Suguru to put aloe on his back every night for the following week. 

Satoru grabbed both their backpacks and sat them on a pool chair, shrugging off his jacket. Suguru unknowingly stared, watching as Satoru lifted the hem of his t-shirt. He paused and grinned at Suguru. 

“Turn around, Sugu. It’s rude to stare at someone while they’re changing,” he said, crossing his arms. 

Suguru blushed. He hated that about himself. There was no one else in existence that blushed as easily as Suguru did, and Satoru’s flirtatious personality exploited that weakness every single time. 

Suguru smiled it off, turning his back to Satoru. “Please leave your boxers on for my sake.” 

Satoru laughed, the light blue warming Suguru’s chest. “I gotta leave at least a few things to your imagination.” 

Suguru slipped his shirt off too, the cool air flowing across his skin. He ran a finger over his goosebumps, forcing them down for a moment before the cold rose them up again. “Can I turn around now?” 

“If you dare,” Satoru said. 

Suguru rolled his eyes, spinning around to face Satoru.  “Are those my boxers?” he asked. 

At that, Satoru jumped into the pool and resurfaced with a smile, combing his wet bangs away from his forehead. “Maybe,” he said. 

Suguru sat on the edge of the pool, the water almost reaching his knees. It was warm, almost too warm. “I liked those ones.” 

Satoru swam up to him and placed his arms on the edge. “Let’s play a game.” 

“What game?” Suguru asked, fully immersing himself in the water. The warmth of it soaked through his skin, all the way to his bones, easing a chill he hadn’t noticed before. 

“Turn around,” Satoru said, the smell of strawberries on his breath. 

Suguru glared. “You’re being suspicious.” 

“Come on!” Satoru complained, doing a spinning motion with his finger. “It’s just the word game.” 

Suguru laughed and turned around, remembering how they used to play it as middle schoolers during the summer. “Don’t make it too difficult.” 

“Okay,” Satoru said. Suguru could almost hear his smile as he parted Suguru’s wet hair across his back and placed the sections over his shoulders. 

Suguru closed his eyes, focusing on the way Satoru traced the word across his bare shoulders. 

“Why that word?” Suguru asked, laughing. 

“You have to say what the word is first,” Satoru complained. 

“Why did you pick ‘lobe?’'' 

Satoru laughed. “I think it’s a funny word.” 

“Next one,” Suguru said, rolling his eyes. 

Satoru traced across his skin again, the soft sound of his breathing filling Suguru’s ears like cotton balls. 

“Pineapple,” Suguru said, smiling. “I’m surprised you remember that.” 

“I remember more than I thought I would,” Satoru admitted. He rubbed the trace of the word off Suguru’s back, before starting anew. 

He ignored the word Satoru wrote on his back, asking a burning question instead. The words just flowed out of him like water, the self-control he tried to maintain breaking like a dam. “What do you remember about the party?” 

“You mostly,” Satoru answered, tapping Suguru on the shoulder to get him to turn around. “Why? I didn’t do something terrible like commit genocide or accidently kill Mimi, did I?” 

Their eyes met. There was a charged breath between them, or maybe Suguru had just imagined it.  He didn’t know. “No, I was just wondering if you remembered anything else.” 

“I remember the pineapple chunks, a little bit of the dancing part, drinking… a lot, and you dragging me to the car. Other than that, I totally blacked out.” 

“Okay,” Suguru said, his voice quiet and unsure. 

“I’m scared now, Sugu. What did I do?” 

“Nothing,” he said, maybe a little too fast. “Nothing.” 

Satoru smiled. “I didn’t throw myself at you, did I?” he asked, the water rippling around him as he moved closer. The glow from the pool made his eyes seem bluer, and Suguru didn’t think that was possible. “That’s totally something drunk me would’ve done.” 

“No,” Suguru said, forcing himself to laugh. He really didn’t want to talk about this anymore. He should’ve just let it be. God, why didn’t he just let it be? “Just forget it.” 

“Okay… Trace a word on me then,” Satoru said, turning around. “And make it challenging.” 

Suguru blinked hard and stared at the back of Satoru’s neck and his shoulders, remembering how she had touched him there, along with all the other places on him she’d touched-

“You’re really thinking about this word, aren’t you?” Satoru said, looking over his shoulder. “The anticipation is killing me.” 

Suguru smoothed his hands out on Satoru’s back and traced his word, watching as the water droplets on his skin moved with Suguru’s touch. He couldn’t help but grin as he finished the last letter over the curve of Satoru’s shoulder blade. 

“You’re annoying,” Satoru said, turning around. “You’re never gonna let me live anymore, are you?” 

Suguru laughed and sank into the water away from Satoru’s splashes, the word “lightweight” still burning on his fingertip. 

. . .

“So… the Homecoming dance is next Saturday,” Suguru's mother said, leaning across the counter. 

He nodded, dreading the week full of festivities, pep rallies, and dumb costumes. One more Homecoming week, aka the week of utter inconvenience, and he’ll never have to endure it again. “Unfortunately, yeah it is.” 

“What?!” she asked. “You don’t like Homecoming?”

“Hard no,” Suguru said, taking a bite of his toast. It was Monday, and they always had brief, obligatory conversations while he waited for the bus. “It’s so annoying. Everyone always makes it a big deal.” 

“Really?” she asked, a little disappointed. “I thought you’d be looking forward to it since it’s your senior year.” 

Suguru shrugged, staring out the window at the early morning darkness. It was October, the leaves changing from green to red, orange, or yellow and waiting for the right moment to fall all the way down. “It’s all the same.” 

“You’re going to the dance, though, right?” she asked, smiling. “I’ll get you a new suit, and if you decide to bring a date, I’ll help you pick out flowers for her.” 

Suguru smiled, genuinely that time. “I’ll go, but don’t get your hopes up on the date part.” 

She nodded. “How about Satoru? Does he have a date?” 

Suguru thought about the girl from the party again. Would they go together? Did Satoru lie about not remembering her? Even though that night had been weeks ago, Suguru still thought about it, the same memory on a hamster wheel in his brain.

“I don’t know,” he said. “We don’t normally talk about things like that. At least not seriously.” 

“You don’t?” she asked. “I thought all boys talked about girls with their friends.” 

Suguru had never confessed any of his past crushes to Satoru, not that he’d had that many. There was a girl in his Freshman foreign language class he thought he’d liked, but the feelings passed within the week. And Satoru… Suguru knew he liked girls. Well, the girls liked him at least. It wasn’t unlike Satoru to flirt with a few of them at a party, maybe even kiss one of them, but… not have sex with them. Suguru wondered if it had been Satoru’s first time the night of the 13th street party or if he’d been with a lot of other girls before-

“Suguru?” his mother said, placing a tentative hand over his. “What’s going on with you? You seem down these days. Especially these past few weeks.” 

“Have I?” he asked, shifting a little under her touch. 

“Yes,” she said, reluctantly taking her hand away. “I’ve noticed. Is it something to do with basketball? I told you before. I don’t mind coming to your games even if you don’t play as much as you’d hoped, okay? I just… want to support you-” 

“It’s not that,” Suguru interrupted, feeling a tight, uncomfortable knot form in his chest. “I promise it’s not that.” 

“Then, what is it?” she asked, her voice so nice, and so careful, and so sweet. Suguru could hardly stand it. 

He was quiet for a moment, watching as the sun finally peeked out from behind the neighbor’s house and through the kitchen window. It was light and pastel compared to a sunset. He remembered the conversation he’d had with Satoru about sunrises and sunsets, that morning only affirming his opinion on the matter. 

“I’m okay,” he said, almost through his teeth. “It’s the stress. That’s all.” 

“Okay. Well… you can talk to me about those things, you know? You’ll be going to college soon, and I want to spend as much time with you as possible.” 

Suguru’s mind buffered as he tried to think of what to say. He thought for a moment too long. 

“Oh God, Suguru, I’m sorry!” she said, her eyes wide. “I’ve upset you, haven’t I?” 

“No!” he answered immediately, thankful as the bus pulled up outside. Its lights flashed within the fog and the doors opened. “It’s fine, mom. I’m fine.” 

Suguru grabbed his bag and hesitated at the door. His mom dropped her shoulders, her face red and her eyes sad. 

“Have a good day, honey,” she said, waving. 

When Suguru looked at her, he couldn’t help but hate himself. He saw the misplaced hope she had for him, for the future she’d made up for him in her own head, and it angered him, a sort of lava rising up in his throat. 

“You too, mom.” 

. . .

Clink, clink, clink. 

“It’s days like today that make me want to quit basketball,” Satoru groaned from beside him on the floor. He was still sweaty from practice, his face a deep pink. “There’s no reason why we had to run so much.” 

Suguru sighed in agreement, the cramps in his legs just now starting to alleviate almost 30 minutes after practice had ended. “Imagine not having advanced weight lifting every day to prepare you for it,” he complained, turning over on his side. He could see under his bed, Mimi’s white tail sticking out from behind a dirty pile of clothes. He smiled to himself before facing Satoru again. 

“No one actually tries in that class,” Satoru said. “My gym coach is so serious about gym, that it’s impossible for anyone to take him seriously.”

Suguru smiled. “We should come up with a nickname for him.”

“How about Mr. Clean?” Satoru asked, grinning up at the fan. “You know… because he’s bald?” 

Suguru laughed, wincing a little at the lingering cramp in his side. “That’s a good one.” 

There was a lull in the conversation after that, quieting breaths mixing with the clink of the fan, before Satoru asked, “So, what do you wanna do for the rest of the week?” 

“Nothing.” 

He sighed, glaring over with a smile hidden behind his eyes. “Don’t even with that crap.” 

“What?” Suguru asked in defense.

“It’s Wednesday, which means Homecoming Week is basically over already.” 

“You’re so dramatic.” 

Satoru breathed out a laugh. “We’ll never live this evening again, Sugu. Much like we’ll never live this week again, so you better fucking enjoy it… or else.” 

“Or else what?” Suguru asked. “Are you gonna unfriend me?” 

“I would never unfriend you, but I wish you’d have a little more fun,” Satoru said. 

“I have plenty of fun.” 

“You’re at least going to the dance on Saturday, right?” Satoru asked, turning on his side to face Suguru. “You gotta.” 

Suguru nodded. “I’m required for yearbook class.” 

“So… you’re not going with anyone?” Satoru asked, raising an eyebrow. “Just for club obligations?” 

Suguru nodded before asking, “Are you going with a girl this year? You always have a million girls asking you out, and every single time, you say no.” 

Satoru shrugged. “I like someone else.” 

He said it nonchalantly, as if they’d talked about this countless times before. It made Suguru’s heart skip, the beat of it fluttering in his throat. “You do?” 

“I do.” 

“Who?” Suguru asked, the question blazing like fire through his mind. The regret was instant. What was wrong with him? Why did he care so much? What did it matter? Suguru wanted to reach out into the air between them, grab the question, and shove it down his throat again, the heat of it burning all the way down. 

Satoru grinned, placing his hands underneath his shirt. “That’s for me to know and you to never find out.” 

Kill me, Suguru thought, wishing for a nice, deadly, mind-destroying bolt of lightning to strike him into oblivion. Anything to get away from this god-awful conversation. “You’re a piece of shit,” he said instead, forcing humor into his voice. “Aren’t we supposed to know each other’s secrets?” 

Satoru’s grin widened. “Are you jealous?” 

“Fuck you.” 

“I bet you would, wouldn’t you?” Satoru said, raising an amused eyebrow. 

There was no way of stopping the awful redness that spread across Suguru’s cheeks and down his neck, the heat of it like sweet little flames under his skin. 

“I hate you,” he said, covering his face with his hands. “Maybe Mimi has the right idea.”

Satoru laughed, tapping his finger on Suguru’s hands. “Maybe we can just go to the dance together, you know?” 

Suguru peeked out from between his fingers. “Like… as friends?” 

“As whatever you want,” Satoru mused with a laugh, collapsing on his back to look up at the ceiling fan again. “Unless you had someone else in mind.” 

He didn’t. Satoru was the only person Suguru ever had in mind. “Fine,” he said, uncovering his face. “But don’t get mad when I have to ditch you for yearbook obligations.” 

“Yay!” Satoru said, ignoring the ditching part. “As long as you’re going, I’m happy.” 

There was a secret part of Suguru, one he didn’t recognize, much less acknowledge, that was happy Satoru said no to all those girls and asked him instead. His words were on repeat in Suguru’s head for a long time. As whatever you want. What had he meant by that? 

Chapter Text

“Smile, Suguru!” his mother shouted, aiming her camera at him. “You’re handsome when you smile.” 

Suguru glared before putting on his fake smile. He’d gotten incredibly good at posing for photos. “Are you insinuating that my RBF isn’t handsome?” 

“What’s RBF?” she asked, frowning. 

“Resting bitch face,” Satoru called out from behind him, putting a hand on the back of Suguru’s neck. “And, oh , does Suguru have one of those.” 

Suguru sighed, not noticing that Satoru had arrived to pick him up until the damage had already been done. He always had to watch what he said to his mother around Satoru, because the conversation could easily turn into Satoru oversharing and exposing him for an hour. 

His mother’s frown deepened. “Satoru, you shouldn’t use that kind of language.” 

He nodded. “So sorry, Lisa, but you should hear Suguru when you’re not around-” 

“Satoru, shut the fuck up,” Suguru said between his teeth, immediately cursing himself for… cursing. Why did he always fall into Satoru’s stupid traps?  

“See what I’m talking about?” Satoru asked, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “He curses like a sailor.” 

His mother grinned, pointing the camera at the both of them now. “Your RBF is still handsome, Suguru, but I would appreciate it if you gave me a genuine smile.” 

Suguru complied, wrapping an arm around Satoru. “Look at the camera,” he said through his teeth, nudging him. 

It flashed, Satoru still staring at him. Suguru dropped his smile and gave him a glare. “You’re supposed to look at the camera, you know?” 

“You’re just so beautiful, I couldn’t look away,” he said, pretending to swoon. “Did your mom do your hair?” 

“I did,” his mother said, snapping another photo without any warning. “Doesn’t he look princely?” 

“Princely’s one word for it,” Satoru said with a smirk, tucking a fly-away strand behind Suguru’s ear. 

Suguru slapped his hand away. “At least my hair’s presentable. You obviously just rolled out of bed, put that suit on, and drove your ass over here.” 

“Language, Suguru,” his mother urged, walking over to give Suguru his camera and to straighten Satoru’s tie. “And I like the messy, casual look on you, Satoru. It’s charming.” 

“See?” Satoru said, holding back a laugh. “You’re princely and I’m charming. Perfect, isn’t it?” 

Suguru opened his mouth to respond with yet another obscenity, but his mother interrupted. “You two should get going. The dance is about to start,” she said, brushing a bit of dust off Satoru’s shoulder. 

They both nodded and said their goodbyes, making their way to Satoru’s civic. “I’m gonna kill you,” Suguru said, plopping in the passenger seat. “Baiting me into cursing in front of my mom? Really?” 

Satoru laughed, that familiar light blue filling the car. “It’s funny seeing you panic,” he said. “Besides, it’s not a big deal. Your mom’s great.” 

Suguru shrugged. “She’s overbearing.” 

Satoru frowned, starting the car. “Maybe doing your hair was a little too much, but she’s actually great, Sugu.” 

He raised an eyebrow. “You don’t have the hots for my mom, do you?” 

Satoru laughed again and stopped at a streetlight, a red filter falling across his face. “Of course not, but it's obvious where you got all your good looks from.” 

Suguru looked down at himself, his jacket suddenly too tight around his arms. “I look like my dad… vaguely.” 

“I’ve never even seen a picture of your dad,” Satoru said, the sun setting below the horizon. It got dark so much earlier now, a cold chill settling in the air. 

“I have no memory of him,” Suguru admitted. “Aside from a picture my mom showed me way back, I haven’t seen much of him either.” 

“Aren’t you interested? In knowing more about him, I mean.” 

“He died in a car accident a long time ago. Ren’s always been my father , you know? I never had a reason to know more.” 

“Do you remember when Ren put the swing set up for us?” Satoru asked. “Lisa had to force us to get off when it got too dark outside.” 

“No,” Suguru said. “I don’t remember that.” 

“Really?” Satoru asked, slightly appalled. “That’s one of my favorites. And the time last year when you spilt hot chocolate all over yourself. That was fucking priceless.” 

“Hey! That was totally your fault,” Suguru said, glancing at the stain in the seat.  

“Maybe you shouldn’t have taken the lid off your drink.” 

“I was trying to cool it down.” 

“Worked real nice, didn’t it?” Satoru said, grinning as the light turned green.

Suguru rolled his eyes. “I’m over this conversation.” 

“That’s what you say when you lose.” 

“I didn’t realize it was a competition.” 

Satoru grinned. “It’s always a competition, Sugu.” 

Suguru sighed as the school came into view. Purple, gray, and black balloons were tied outside the door with glitter ribbons. “If there was a competition called ‘The Ultimate School Dance Hater,’ I would win.” 

“Don’t be like that,” Satoru said, laughing. “It’ll be fun , Besides, what’s the worst that could happen?” 

“I don’t know. I die of pure agony?” 

Satoru sighed, pulling into the parking lot. “With that attitude, you will.” 

Suguru grinned, watching as the other students flocked to the doors in dresses and fancy suits. He looked down at himself again, cringing at the dark red rose his mom had made him clip to his jacket. “I’ll try, okay?” 

Satoru seemed satisfied with that answer. “Come on. There’s no use in waiting it out in the car,” he said, opening the door. Suguru followed him to the front entrance, the sky almost completely dark. 

The moment he walked into the school gym, Suguru’s anxieties eased. It was dark but not too dark, twinkling lights strung across the ceiling. There was a punch fountain against the far wall with several students gathered around it and an elevated stereo right next to it. Purple flowers with gray and black ribbons decorated the gym, and even though Suguru practiced there every day after school, he could barely recognize the place. 

“Wow! It’s so nice in here,” Satoru said, the blue of his eyes reflecting the lights. “It doesn’t even look like the gym anymore.” 

“That’s what I was just thinking.” 

“Is that a smile?” Satoru teased. “I think you’re smiling, Sugu.” 

Suguru actually did smile that time, not one of the fake ones he put on for the camera, but a real one. “Maybe a little bit.” 

Satoru nudged him with his elbow. “ See, I told you Homecoming was fun. You just didn’t believe me.” 

Suguru lifted his camera, pointing it at Satoru. “Pose for me.” 

Satoru smiled and held up two peace signs before the camera flashed. “I know I’m the best looking person here, but you can’t just take photos of me all night. That’s not fair to everyone else.” 

Suguru glared. “Okay, then. I’ll meet you back at the civic at 11. I have to go take pictures of everyone else now.” 

“Wait, I’m not ready to be left alone,” Satoru said with a laugh, grabbing lightly at Suguru’s wrist. “At least stay with me for the first hour. It’s rude to ditch your date so early.” 

Suguru opened his mouth to respond, but an upbeat song switched on, everyone rushing to the dancefloor.

“You’re not getting out of it this time,” Satoru said, squeezing his fingers around Suguru’s wrist and dragging him. “You’re dancing.” 

“I don’t dance,” he protested, yet made no move to stop Satoru from pulling him along. “I told you. I’m rhythmically challenged.” 

Satoru ignored him, holding onto his hands and swinging them back and forth. There was a sea of light blue and gold glitter washing over him as Satoru laughed, music swirling in the air. Suguru felt hilariously dizzy, unable to stop himself from laughing along too.

Song after song played, and Suguru realized he hadn’t taken any pictures. He lifted his camera and aimed it at Satoru without him even noticing, then at a group of people he knew but couldn’t recall their names, then at Hello Kitty Girl who just so happened to be on his left. He snapped her photo once, then again when she realized the camera was on her. The difference between the two shots fascinated him every time.

“Hey, Suguru,” she said over the music, smiling at him. “I didn’t know you were in the yearbook club.” 

He nodded, letting the camera hang loose around his neck. “I’m the best photographer they have. I don’t know what they’re gonna do after I graduate.” 

She laughed. “I was really high last time we actually talked, and I thought that was why I found you funny. Turns out, you’re actually kinda funny.” 

Suguru’s expression dropped. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“You’re so standoffish, you know. The only reason I had the courage to talk to you at 13th was the weed, and the fact that you looked absolutely terrible with your nose bleeding and everything-” 

“Please don’t tell anyone about that,” Suguru said, the song switching again. It was upbeat and popular, another crowd rushing to center court. “It was embarrassing.” 

“I won’t,” she assured, raising an eyebrow. “But I don’t really see why it matters so much.” 

Suguru opened his mouth to answer, but a familiar hand wrapped around his arm, the smell of strawberries overwhelming his senses like a sweet, heavy fog. “Sugu, let’s dance together,” Satoru said, his attention shifting to Hello Kitty Girl once he realized he’d interrupted. “Oh, hello. What’s your name?” 

Suguru paid extreme attention. He was starting to feel guilty about forgetting her actual name. 

She smiled at Satoru. “Hina,” she said, her gaze flip-flopping between the two of them and resting on Satoru's hand holding his arm. 

“Hina,” Satoru mused. “Hear that, Sugu? Her name is Hina. I’m Satoru, by the way.” 

Suguru was thankful to the low lighting for hiding his blush. “Thank you, Satoru,” he said, nudging him a little too hard in the ribs. “You said you wanted to dance?” 

“I must steal him, Hina, please understand,” Satoru singsonged, tugging him away. “He’s my date.” 

Suguru stared at Hina, formally known as Hello Kitty Girl, and shook his head, mouthing, No, I’m not.

She only smiled, waving goodbye as Satoru started to drag him. “Why do you always have to embarrass me?” Suguru groaned, taking the camera off his neck and setting it on one of the side tables.

“It’s only embarrassing if you think of it that way,” he said, grabbing his hands and leading him further into the crowd. Suguru noticed, as if for the first time, how well their hands fit. The familiar calluses from countless basketball practices rubbed softly together as they danced. Skin on skin. Fingerprints pressing down gently. 

Suguru forgot what he was going to say, a snarky remark on the tip of his tongue. He stared at Satoru. His blue eyes crinkled at the edges, a perfectly straight smile spread across his lips, and an easy happiness emitted from him like heat from a lamp. 

Songs cycled through for what felt like hours, and Suguru was laughing, spinning around with Satoru. He noticed as Satoru’s hands traveled upward from his hands to his elbows, then up to his shoulders, and finally, almost instinctively, around his neck, rubbing easy circles there with his thumb. 

Suguru could smell the strawberry candy Satoru had in his mouth, the sweetness of it making his heart skip. Why did his heart skip? Had it ever done that before? 

Suguru was singing, twirling, and swaying, but as everything else blurred around him, Satoru’s face remained clear, his eyes lifting as he smiled. 

After several songs played, Satoru pulled him even closer, breathing him in. Their chests were touching, and Suguru could’ve sworn he felt Satoru’s heart racing through his dress shirt. He was embracing him, both arms wrapped securely around Suguru’s neck. 

At first, Suguru didn’t return the affection. They’d slept in the same bed before, careful to stay on their respective sides. They’d touched each other before but only in passing. An accidental brush while walking down the hall, an easy pat on the back at practice, or a fingertip tracing a mystery word on the other’s shoulder blades, but never had they touched like this. Chest to chest. Faces in the crooks of necks. Hands tenderly placed, a gentle weight behind the palms. 

After a moment of hesitation, Suguru held him back, laughing softly in his ear. He loved how close they were. Satoru’s body heat washed over him in waves, the soft pressure between them containing it like a delicate candle flame. 

“You’re so sweet, Sugu,” Satoru whispered so only he could hear. “No one knows how sweet you are.” 

Suguru gave him a tight squeeze before forcing himself to let go, the song coming to a resounding end. “I have a reputation to maintain.” 

When they broke apart, a warmth left Suguru as if he’d been forced from a dream, the chill of realization shivering through his bones. He stared at Satoru, having to remind himself to breathe. 

Satoru was staring right back, his lips parting slightly before he said, “Did I do something wrong? You have a funny look on your face.” 

Suguru blinked, hard. “Sorry,” he said, swallowing. “I didn’t mean to stare.” 

Satoru’s shoulders dropped, a lazy smile spreading across his face. “You liked dancing with me, didn’t you? Might as well admit it.” 

Suguru smiled, bowing his head to hide his blush. “I'm not giving you the satisfaction.” 

“That answer was enough to satisfy me,” Satoru said, leaning down to meet his eyes. “Are you blushing, Sugu?” 

The question only made his cheeks hotter, but he looked up, rolling his eyes at Satoru. A playful remark was on the tip of his tongue, but the next song started, its easy, slow melody falling over the room like snow. Suguru could see a girl walking toward Satoru from over his shoulder. He knew what she was going to ask, so he started to back away. “When you dance with this girl who’s about to ask you to dance, please make it photogenic, so I can put it in the yearbook,” he said, grinning. 

Satoru frowned, about to answer, but the girl tapped him on the shoulder. He turned to smile at her. He must’ve said something funny because she started to laugh, placing her hands on his shoulders. When Satoru wrapped his around her waist, Suguru forced himself to snap a couple of pictures from a side table before turning away, leaving the camera behind. 

He hadn’t realized how much he’d been smiling until the smile faded into something that resembled sadness but not quite. Jealousy? Anger? Longing? Or maybe everything all at one. He didn’t know what to call it, but it ate at him more and more as he watched the two of them dance, a gnawing pain sharpening in the pit of his stomach. He remembered the feeling all too well as memories of the 13th street party resurfaced, thrashing around with desperate claws. 

Suguru walked outside the gym doors and into the band hallway, lit only by dim emergency night lights. He turned down hallway after hallway, the music growing muffled and distant the further he went. Until, finally, he reached his and Satoru’s favorite stairwell, leaning his back against the wall. 

He took deep breaths, two huffs in with one long exhale to follow. It was a rhythm his mother had taught him many years ago when he was required, along with the rest of the class, to perform in the school play. 

In one, two, hold… a long exhaled three. Repeat. 

In one, two, hold… a long exhaled three. Repeat. 

He was so focused on calming himself, he didn’t hear the sets of footsteps approaching him. On his seventh exhale, the group of them rounded the corner, grinning to one another when they saw him. 

“Suguru, we’ve been looking for you.” It was Bug Boy from the bonfire, those big, bulging eyes staring amusingly at him. 

“Have you?” Suguru said, trying not to sound breathless. “I’m afraid I’m busy at the moment.” 

Bug Boy huffed, rubbing his palms on his dress pants. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something.” 

Suguru’s attention shifted from Bug Boy to his group of woodland friends. After a split second analysis, Suguru decided their names would be Frog Boy and Rat Boy. He almost laughed aloud at his own joke. 

“What’re you smiling about?” Bug Boy asked, taking a step closer. Too close. 

“Like I said, I’m busy right now, so I’d appreciate it if you left me alone,” Suguru said. 

Frog Boy spoke up next, his voice sounding just as Suguru’d expected it to. “We saw you.” 

“It’s a relief to know you three aren’t blind,” Suguru said, trying not to let his anxiety betray him. His breathing was uneven again, the easy rhythm eluding him. “I bet Bug Boy here could see me from a hundred miles away.” 

Bug Boy scoffed, those big eyes of his rolling in annoyance. “He means we saw you and Satoru. Dancing all up on each other? Does Satoru know you like boys, or are you just biding your time?” 

The blood rushed from Suguru’s face, a sickly paleness spreading all down his neck. The sides of his throat stuck together as a slight tremor laced through his hands. “Who the hell do you think you are-” 

Bug Boy laughed, cutting him off. “Oh God, you’re too obvious! So how long have you wanted to fuck him? A year? Two? Or is this a life of sexual pining that has yet to-”

Suguru found a grain of courage within a sea of panic and anger. “I told you I was busy so get the hell away from me.” 

“Your nose is bleeding, jeez,” Bug Boy said, laughing a bit. “So it really is a life of sexual pining. You stare at him in the locker room, don’t you? I bet you get off to thoughts of Satoru-”

Suguru had never punched anyone before, and when he went for the blow, he totally fucked up. He was too slow, too predictable, and far too disoriented to land a good one on Bug Boy. It barely grazed his chin, leaving nothing more than the hint of a bruise. 

By the time his fist had come full swing, one of the others, he couldn’t tell which one, returned the punch. Hard knuckles smashed into Suguru’s right eye, whipping his neck around. Blood from his nosebleed trickled into his mouth, bitterness sticking to his lips. “Fuck,” he said on instinct, the purple and gray tiles superimposing over each other as he looked down. 

One drop of blood on the tiles. Two drops of blood on the tiles. Three drops. It was the only thing Suguru’s mind could focus on, the scarlet red against the North High gray. They were laughing, the sound like awful, echoing jeers. One of them said something about the blood, a slight fear in his voice.

His breathing was long gone. In one, two, hold… and he couldn’t find the third. He just kept inhaling, his lungs threatening to pop from the pressure. 

The three of them must’ve left because he felt alone. He stumbled around the corner and saw their silhouettes disappear back toward the gym. 

With much relief, he made it to the bathroom in the band hallway, thankful that no one was in there. He ran a paper towel under cold water and held it up to his nose, tilting his head all the way back. It wasn’t until that moment did he feel the dull, bruising pain in his eye. He’d never been punched before… or gotten a black eye… or had to explain to his parents how he’d gotten blood all over his dress shirt and a swollen face. The thoughts were avalanching out of control. He wanted to talk to Satoru-

“Hey, I’ve been looking all over for you and…” 

Suguru looked at him, tears biting at the corners of his eyes. “I got into a fight,” he said, trying to laugh it off. “I didn’t win.” 

There was a heavy silence before Satoru asked, “Sugu, who did that to you?” He walked over to him, his steps gentle like he was approaching a deer, afraid to spook it away. 

Suguru shook his head, still putting pressure on his nose. “I’m okay. It’s not a big deal.” 

“Whoever did this needs to be turned in. I know you're bad with names, so I'll take you back to the gym and you point them out to me, okay?” 

For one of the few times in his life, Suguru could hear a tremor in Satoru’s voice. He seemed scared as he approached, only a couple feet away from him now. 

Suguru brought his head down, staring at the blood stained paper towel. “The nosebleed is all me. I don’t know why I started doing it again. And the black eye isn’t that bad… I don’t think.” 

“It’s swollen,” Satoru said, touching the area around his eye with his thumb. 

The sudden contact made Suguru flinch. “It’s fine. Really.” 

“Suguru,” Satoru said, sounding out every syllable. “Why did they hurt you?” 

The answer to that question poisoned Suguru like a rot, slowly decaying his sanity. He couldn’t tell Satoru. Ever. 

“I… I don’t want to tell you,” Suguru admitted, staring at Satoru. His right eye was swollen shut now, the pain an ugly reminder of what those boys had said. They’d planted a seed of doubt in him, and it grew, sprouting thorns and poisonous berries in his veins. 

“You can tell me,” Satoru said, his voice almost begging. “Please, tell me.” 

“You don’t need to know.” 

“I want to know,” he said, leaning against the sink. Satoru’s hand found Suguru’s shoulder, the gentle pressure soothing him further away from the ledge. 

“They just don’t like me, okay? That’s all.” 

Satoru nodded, his eyes downcast. “I’m not going to force you to tell me,” he said, “but I can see how much it hurt you. Not just your eye.” 

Suguru bit his lip to keep from crying. “Thank you for finding me,” he whispered. “Before you got here, I was thinking about how much I wanted to talk to you.” 

Satoru smiled. “You’re okay,” he said, holding Suguru against him. They were chest to chest again as Satoru rubbed easy circles on his back. “Make sure you win the fight next time, though.” 

Suguru laughed, still trying desperately not to cry. “There won’t be a next time.” 

The strawberry smell helped him find his breath again. In one, two, hold… a long exhaled three. Repeat.

Chapter Text

Satoru invited Suguru over to his house the Sunday after the Homecoming dance, the text invitation shining from his phone screen. He read it twice before responding with a reluctant “sure.” 

Satoru’s mother’s immune system was compromised, and no visitors were allowed in the house save for family members. It had been almost two years since he’d stepped foot in Satoru’s house. He was racking his brain for even a hint of the memory, settling on Satoru’s fifteenth birthday party. It had just been the two of them, his mother, and his grandfather eating strawberry cake and watching the new spy thriller on pay per view. 

Satoru grew up without a father in the traditional sense. Not unlike Suguru, his biological father wasn’t present in his adult life. The difference was, Satoru’s father left by choice when Mai, his mother, got sick for the first time. Even though it had been almost a decade prior, Suguru remembered that day rather accurately as he assumed Satoru did too. He thought about it over and over on his way to Satoru’s house. 

By some miracle, Suguru had managed to escape his parents for the time being, neither of them getting the opportunity to see his black eye. It was disgusting, a deep, bloody purple swelling his eye shut. He hated himself for letting it happen, for letting Bug Boy get to him, and for letting Satoru see him like that. The stinging burn of embarrassment wrapped itself strongly around his chest like a hot chain, holding his ribcage in place. 

Even though Satoru had offered to pick him up in the civic, Suguru preferred to walk, the slight chill of autumn seeping through his jacket. He had his headphones on, listening to the newest playlist Satoru had carefully crafted. The house was a twenty minute walk away, meaning he had about five or six songs before he got there. He tried to slow his pace, not wanting to be too early, but he wound up at Satoru’s front door ten minutes prior to the agreed time anyway, shuffling his feet awkwardly in front of the door. 

Looking around, he noticed the familiar, little details of Satoru’s front porch: the bird feeders by the door, the wilting purple mums, the creaking porch swing, and Satoru’s baby hands imprinted in the concrete. Something new caught his attention as a breeze whispered by, the sweet ring of windchimes floating around his head like fallen leaves. He would’ve remembered if he’d ever heard that sound before. 

His palms were sweating, but he didn’t know why. He’d been here before. He knew about the bird feeders, Mai’s inability to take care of her flowers, the rusted chains on the swing, and Satoru’s slowly eroding handprints. He knew Satoru, had known him for as long as he cared to remember, and yet, he was nervous. There were butterflies in his stomach, threatening to swarm up his throat and out his mouth. 

“How long were you gonna stand out here?” Satoru asked, opening the door and smiling. “Don’t act like you’ve never been here before.” 

Suguru looked at him. His eyes focused on his hair first, messier than usual, then he made his way down to Satoru’s face. He looked so tired. “I, uh, just… felt weird about being early.” 

“I was leaving to pick you up,” he said, stepping outside on the porch and closing the door behind him. “Can we just sit out here for a bit? I wanted to ask you something.” 

Suguru nodded, sitting beside him on the porch swing. It creaked under the weight, just as he remembered. “Listen, I’m not proud of what happened last night, okay? I feel embarrassed, and I don’t want you to worry about me because you worry so much as it is. I know you think I don’t see it, but I do-” 

“Sugu, can you wait a second?” he asked, placing a hand on his knee. “This isn’t about last night.” 

“I’m sorry,” Suguru said immediately. “God, I’m sorry. I just assumed I upset you last night. With the black eye, and my nose bleeding, and me crying. I don't know why I was crying-” 

“You can cry in front of me, you know?” he said, leaning his head on Suguru’s shoulder. The motion was sudden, but Suguru melted into it. He remembered holding Satoru the night before. It felt just like that. 

“What’s wrong, Satoru?” he asked. “I’m almost a hundred percent positive I shouldn’t be here.” 

Satoru sighed, the sound of it broken with pure, unadulterated sadness. “Do you remember when my father left?” he asked. “I guess it’s been almost eight years now.” 

Suguru wrapped a tentative arm around his shoulder, rubbing easy circles there. “I do. I was actually thinking about that on the way over here.” 

“He just left. No note. No spoken goodbye.” 

“I know,” Suguru whispered. “I’m sorry.” 

“I have a confession to make,” Satoru said, unwilling to meet Suguru’s eyes. “Two, actually.” 

“You can tell me.” 

Satoru was quiet for a moment, the sound of windchimes filling the silence like water in an empty glass. He was quiet for so long, Suguru thought he’d changed his mind. 

Finally, he said, “The first one is how jealous I am of you, and I promise it’s not in the way that you think,” he paused again, trying to figure out how to say it. “I’m jealous that your father died. I wish mine had just died . He is dead to me, and yet he isn't. He’s very much alive, leeching off me like some emotional parasite that I’ll just have to live with for the rest of my life.” 

Suguru didn’t know what to say, an awful wave of emotions building in him. “Sometimes, we just have to live with things, Satoru. The most hated parts of ourselves are still parts of us.” 

“I wish I could carve him out of me. Go to the doctor and have them perform emergency surgery.” 

Seeing Satoru like this manifested into a sharp pain. The words stabbed him, blood seeping through his t-shirt and pooling around his feet on the concrete porch. “He’s your father. That simple statement has more power than any of your desires to undo it,” Suguru said, forcing Satoru to lift his head to look at him. “Something’s happened. I’ve never seen you like this.” 

Satoru’s eyes were dry, not a hint of tears in them, but his anguish was painstakingly obvious. Suguru knew Satoru. Knew him better than he knew himself. 

“My mother is dying, Sugu,” he said simply, the words as easy to say as if they were a greeting or a casual farewell. “That’s the other thing I had to confess to you today.” 

“Satoru-” 

“Please don’t say you’re sorry. You’re not the one killing her.” 

“Where is she now?” Suguru asked, more blood spilling down his front. He needed to bandage it, force the blood back in.

Satoru smiled through his sadness. “She’s inside.” 

“I should leave,” Suguru said, starting to get up. “I don’t want to make her feel worse, and you need to spend time with her , not me.” 

Satoru grabbed his wrist, forcing him back down. “I invited you here because I wanted her to have a good time tonight. I promised her we’d watch a movie together since she’s moving to the intensive care unit tomorrow. They don’t think she’ll be able to come back here.”

“Does she know?” Suguru asked. “That she’s going to die soon?” 

Satoru shook his head no. “I asked her doctor to let me tell her, but… I can’t find it in myself to do it yet,” he said. “I just wanted her to have a good memory at our house, you know? One that makes her happy.” 

Suguru swallowed down the painful lump in his throat and nodded. “Will she remember who I am? It’s been forever since I was here.” 

“It’s not like I don't talk about you all the time,” Satoru said, smiling a bit. “Thank you for staying. I know it’s not an easy thing to ask you. The whole situation is… really fucked up.” 

“I want to stay,” Suguru assured. “I’ll stay until you ask me to leave.” 

. . .

Satoru's house smelled like strawberries and hospitals. That statement seemed contradictory, but it was true. 

Suguru sat on the same gray, upholstered couch that had been in Satoru’s house since before he was born, his hand laying tentatively on the arm rest. Satoru’s shoulder was against his, and the simple pressure calmed him down long enough for him to meet Mai’s eyes from across the room. She sat in a recliner, her face sunken. Suguru hadn’t seen her in almost three years. Her black hair was gone, as well as the color in her cheeks. He barely recognized her, but he could still see her resemblance to Satoru. They had the same pretty blue eyes. 

“Suguru, I haven’t seen you in forever,” she said, eyeing him up and down. “If my doctor knew you were visiting, he’d have a fit, but I think the isolation is hurting me more than anything else is.” 

Suguru smiled, sadness pulling it down again. “What’s it like only seeing Satoru?” 

She grinned, staring at her son. “It’s a struggle some days.” 

Satoru huffed and elbowed Suguru in the side. “She has Grandpa too, you know?” 

Suguru sighed, a knot in his chest untangling itself ever so slightly. “Where is your grandpa?” he asked.

“Believe it or not, Grandpa has a very active lifestyle for an eighty year old. This is incredibly stereotypical, but I believe he’s at Bingo Night right now,” Satoru said with a laugh, light blue stars peaking through the gray bleakness of the living room. 

“Suguru?” Mai said, her voice lifted in inquiry. “May I address the elephant in the room?” 

“Mom,” Satoru said through his teeth. “I told you he fell at school, okay?” 

Suguru rolled his eyes, well… eye rather, and glared at Satoru. “I fell ? Seriously?” 

“Yeah, seriously,” Satoru said, clapping a hand on Suguru’s knee and squeezing. “Hit his face right on the railing, Mom. It was super embarrassing-” 

“Saying I lost a fist fight is a lot less embarrassing than falling down the stairs at school, Satoru. Might as well spare us,” Suguru said, grinning. 

“Now, what would make you start throwing punches?” Mai asked, amusement in her voice. 

Suguru raised a brow. “It was a simple misunderstanding, really. Nothing to ride home about.” 

“He won’t tell me either,” Satoru said, almost pouting. 

The knot tightened again. Accusing words whispered in his ears like ghosts, reminding him of Bug Boy. Why the hell was he so stuck on something Bug Boy had said? Maybe because-

“What excuse did you give your mother? I’m sure you’re very against telling her the truth,” Mai said, crossing her legs. The more Suguru watched her, the more differences he noticed. Her skin was extremely pale, her bones seemed visible, and her arm was hooked to an IV bag. Suguru watched it drip, drip, drip before meeting her eyes. 

“She hasn’t seen it yet,” Suguru admitted. “And I will procrastinate that conversation as long as possible.” 

Mai sighed, shaking her head. “I’m sure she would appreciate some honesty from you.” 

Satoru leaned back and crossed his arms, raising his eyebrows at Suguru. 

“It’s no big deal. I just… got into a disagreement, and it won’t happen again,” Suguru explained, actively stopping himself from rambling. “I don’t even know their names.” 

“Be honest, Sugu. You don’t know anyone’s names, so it’s really no surprise you forgot the names of the boys who attacked you,” Satoru said. 

“Technically, I attacked them , but that’s neither here nor there-” 

“Suguru!” Mai said, laughing. “ You attacked them?” 

“ Wow ,” Satoru said. “So not only did you start the fight, you also lost?” 

“Can we please stop talking about this?” Suguru asked, massaging his temples. “I’d much rather just forget the whole thing even happened.” 

Suguru knew they were only joking, and even though he was feeding into it, he was still hurt by the whole ordeal. He’d gotten a nose bleed for god’s sake. That never happened anymore, and after the 13th street party, it had happened not once but twice. 

“Suguru?” Mai asked, concern straining her voice. “I’m sure you had a good reason to start a fight with those boys.” 

Suguru thought about the reason he’d started the fight, the memory like a ugly, unutterable secret. “I have no idea what I’m going to tell my mom.” 

“I suggest you be honest with her,” Mai said. “She’s a good mother to you.” 

For some reason, those words put salt in Suguru’s festering wounds, and he wished he could cut the feelings out with a scalpel. “I’ll think about it,” he said, nodding.

There was a brief, uncomfortable silence just long enough for Suguru to regret every single thing he’d ever said in his life. He imagined throwing himself out the window, melting into the carpet, vaporizing into thin air-

Satoru sighed and wrapped an arm around Suguru’s shoulders, squeezing him slightly. “Do you want popcorn for the movie? I’ll microwave some for you?” he asked, standing up.

“Sure,” he said. “Sorry, Satoru.” 

Satoru paused, eyes peering down at him. “For what?” 

“You know,” Suguru said, wringing his hands together. “Everything.” 

“It’s okay,” he said with so much gentleness, it made Suguru hate himself even more. He disappeared into the kitchen, leaving the two of them alone. 

It wasn’t until Suguru could hear the muffled popcorn pops did Mai get his attention. “Suguru?” 

His gaze snapped up from the carpet, eyes widening. “Yeah?” 

“I just wanted to thank you.” 

Suguru could see where this was going, and he desperately didn’t want it to go there. “No need to thank me. Really.” 

“You don’t even know what for,” she said, laughing. 

“There’s nothing to thank me for.” 

She sighed, bits of sadness weighing in her voice. “Satoru thinks he’s being slick keeping my own prognosis from me. I know I don’t have much time left,” she said, taking a small, broken pause. “I wanted to thank you for looking out for him. He’s strong in front of me, but I’m also his mother. I can feel how devastated he is, but when he talks about your friendship, it helps him. Heals him in ways I could never understand.” 

Those words killed, resuscitated, and killed him again, freezing and warming and burning and flattening him out like a heart monitor. He opened his mouth to say something, only for the words to die on his tongue. 

“You don’t need to say anything if you don’t want to,” Mai assured, lowering her hands in a calming motion. “I just wanted you to know how much I appreciate you.” 

“He would do the same thing for me,” Suguru managed to say. “He does the same thing for me.” 

Her eyes softened before they met Satoru from across the room as he tip-toed to the couch with a bowl of popcorn. 

Satoru frowned, carefully chewing down on a single piece of popcorn. “I didn’t interrupt, did I?” he asked, staring between them. “Suguru seems more anxious than usual.” 

“ Than usual?” Suguru asked, sighing. “I seem anxious normally?” 

“Oh, yeah,” Satoru said through a mouthful of popcorn. “You’re the most anxious person I know.” 

“And I thought I was hiding it well.” 

Satoru smiled, placing the popcorn bowl between them. “Not from me.” 

Suguru let out a tense breath, leaning slightly against Satoru’s shoulder again. He was quiet, listening to Satoru’s easy breathing and the drip, drip, drip of the IV bag. “What movie are we watching?” he asked as Satoru scrolled through the list. 

He looked at his mother. “You can pick tonight.” 

“Something funny,” she said. “I’ll trust Suguru’s opinion. He works at the theater, after all.” 

Satoru gave him the remote and watched as Suguru browsed through the selection, settling on a romantic comedy he remembered doing well last Valentine’s Day. As the movie played, the sun set behind the adjacent houses until only the television light remained. Mai seemed to like the movie, laughing at all the right times, but about 3/4ths of the way in, she dozed off. By the end, she was asleep, her breaths labored and uneven. The credits rolled, white print on a black screen, as an easy piano melody played in the background. 

Suguru looked over at Satoru, expecting to see him asleep or on his phone because romantic comedies weren’t really his thing, but he was crying, quiet tears falling down his face like a sweet, constant river. 

“Satoru?” 

“Yes?” he whispered, refusing to look over. 

Suguru watched him cry, his face illuminated by the television screen. Slowly, almost too slowly, he touched Satoru’s hand and held his breath. His skin was warm, on the verge of being hot. The touch was so tentative, a whisper of skin on skin. 

Suguru’s heart came up his throat, flipping and breaking and pounding all at once as Satoru started to move, turning his hand over. Their palms were touching. Suguru stared, their fingers almost the exact same size. Satoru took a deep, shuddering breath before lacing their hands together, exhaling as if he were in pain. 

. . . 

The sweet imprint of Satoru’s touch still burned in Suguru’s hand the following morning. No matter how much water and soap he used, he couldn’t seem to rid himself of it. Sometimes, when he thought about it too long, a knot would form in his stomach, the feeling both incredibly agonizing yet beautifully addicting all at the same time. 

However mind-consuming it was, he realized he had more pressing matters to attend to as he stared at his swollen eye in the bathroom mirror. It was Monday morning… meaning a conversation with his mother was unavoidable. Mai had made being honest sound so easy, but it might be, quite simply, the hardest thing Suguru had ever had to do. He couldn’t even be honest with himself, so how was he supposed to be honest with his mother? 

He washed his hands again, the remnants of Satoru’s light blue touch still lingering in his palm and between his fingers, before carefully making his way down the stairs. He hoped and prayed he could get away with one more day of avoidance, one more day of his mother’s ignorant bliss. He hadn’t prayed hard enough apparently. 

“Sugu?” she called from the kitchen, his hand barely on the door knob. “I haven’t seen you in almost two days. Come tell me about the dance before you go.” 

He sighed and stared at the autumn wreath she had made in her crafting club, wishing he could teleport somewhere else. Anywhere else. He turned around and braced himself. Her mouth dropped open, and she rushed at him, grabbing his shoulders. 

“God, Suguru! What happened to you?” she asked, brushing a finger over his eye. “This looks painful.” 

It was painful. 

“It’s nothing, really,” he said, slowly backing away from her touch. Before he could even collect himself, he blurted, “I fell… at the dance.” 

Well… there went the honesty policy. It was like Suguru was watching it light itself on fire, crumble to ashes, and sink into the living room’s newly stained hardwood floors, never to be unearthed again. 

“Suguru , you don’t expect me to believe that, do you?” 

Actually, he had very much expected that. 

“What do you mean?” he asked, cursing in his head. He should’ve thought of a better lie than the shit Satou had come up with. 

She frowned, leading him to the kitchen. “Someone hurt you,” she said. “And you need to tell me who it was and why they-” 

“I fell,” Suguru interrupted, keeping with the same dumb story. Deny, deny, deny, he thought, forcing himself to maintain eye contact with her no matter how desperate he was to look away. 

“You did not fall . Tell me who hit you.” 

Suguru knew this conversation was doomed from the start, but he’d expected a little more compliance. He didn't have the mental energy for an argument that early on a Monday morning, much less one with his mother. 

“No one hit me, Mom. I fell. How hard is that to understand?” he asked, anger leaking into his words. He didn’t want to get angry with her, but he could only take so much before he snapped. His fight with Bug Boy. His decision about college. Basketball. His borderline failing grades. Satoru’s mother. The 13th street party. God , why was he still thinking about that stupid party? All of it poured buckets of rage into his chest, just waiting for him to overflow. 

“Suguru, tell me how you got a black eye! That whole story about falling down the stairs at the dance is hardly believable.” 

“I don’t know what you want from me, Mom!” Suguru said, unable to stop himself from yelling. No, no, no . He shouldn’t be yelling. He needed to take that back before-

“I want the truth,” she said, hands on her hips. “Tell me the truth, now .” 

“That is the fucking truth! Can’t you just leave it alone please?” Suguru said, his tone way too hateful and his volume way too loud. “I don’t know how else I can spell it out for you.” 

At first, her eyes stayed firm. “Don’t curse at me, Suguru. You know you shouldn’t curse at me.” 

“Why do you care so much? It’s just a bruise,” Suguru said, rolling his eyes. He knew he was being mean, but his desperate anger swallowed any guilt he might’ve felt, devouring it with painful starvation. “Mind your own business.” 

Those words broke her, a crack forming in her expression. She shrunk and wrung her hands together. 

“You’re my son. You are my business,” she said, not as confident as before. “Forgive me for wanting to know how you got hurt.” 

Suguru wanted to stop. He wanted to stop yelling. He wanted to kill his rage, make a cut in his arm and let it bleed out of him. He wanted to do a lot of things he couldn’t do. “I’m fine . You’re the one making this insufferable right now,” he snapped, the words poisoning the space between them. 

“Suguru, what is wrong with you?” she asked, tears choking her. “Something’s bothering you. You never act like this-” 

“I have to go,” he said plainly, watching the bus pull up outside. He was grateful for it. It stopped him from saying all the other things he’d regret later. 

“We need to finish this conversation. I can take half a day off and drive you to school-”

“I’m leaving, Mom. The conversation is already finished,” Suguru said, slinging his bag over his shoulder and walking out the door. The guilt hit him in the face as soon as he stepped outside. It was chilled and weighted, grabbing at him with invisible hands. His pride was the only thing stopping him from going back inside. 

“Hey-” Hello Kitty Girl… Hina said from their bus seat, the words dying when she saw his face. 

“Please don’t ask,” he said simply, slipping past her to his window seat. He put on his headphones, listening to silence the whole way to school.

Chapter Text

By the time Friday rolled around, Suguru’s black eye had mostly faded, an ugly shade of dim blue surrounding it. He assured all his teachers that his stepfather wasn’t beating him, which was an exhausting and awkward series of events. 

Speaking of Ren, they hadn’t been on pleasant terms the whole week. His mother still made futile attempts at conversation, but Suguru rarely responded with more than a nod or a sigh. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk to her. It was that he knew he had to apologize first, and he was too stubborn to do it just yet. 

It was Satoru that worried him more than anything else. Not the weird looks he got at school. Or the guilt he felt over the fight with his mother. Or Ren’s angry glares because of the fight with his mother. Or even the tense silence from Bug Boy, which was slowly growing, just waiting for the right moment to boil over again. 

He was worried about Satoru. They hadn’t spoken of Mai except for a brief “She’s doing okay,” which was not enough information for Suguru at all. It was almost like their conversation from the weekend prior hadn’t even happened. 

It had been almost a whole week since then, and the side effects still lingered with Suguru like a persistent common cold. Satoru said a lot of heavy things that evening that he simply had not addressed since. All those thoughts plagued Suguru that whole week, dwindling him down every moment he was conscious. 

They still whispered harshly in his ears as the team stumbled out of basketball practice that Friday evening. His lungs still burned from sprinting, and when he spotted Satoru’s civic at the far end of the parking lot, he couldn’t help but groan in disappointment. 

“We should go to the football game tonight, Sugu,” Satoru said from beside him, entirely unfazed. “It’s the last home game this year.” 

“No,” Suguru said, forcing one foot in front of the other. “I’m tired, and I have to work tomorrow.” 

“You’re always tired,” Satoru complained. “You’ll regret it if you don’t come with me.” 

“Is that a threat?” 

Satoru laughed as he backpedaled through the empty parking lot, facing Suguru. “Yes, absolutely it is.”

“What’re you gonna do, Satoru?” Suguru asked, half-collapsing against the passenger side door. “Kill me?”

“Yes. I will murder you in cold blood if you don’t come to the game with me tonight,” he said, unlocking the car. Suguru couldn’t see his face, but he could tell by his voice that he was smiling. 

“Then I guess I have no other choice,” Suguru said in feigned defeat. “I’ll go, but if I’m extremely bored by halftime, we’re leaving. Got it?” 

“Fine,” Satoru said. “I promise, but I don't think you're gonna get bored.” 

. . .

Suguru concluded that he’d never been more bored in his life. 

“Hey, Sugu?” 

“What?” he droned, giving Satoru the side-eye.

It was almost halftime and neither team had scored a single point. 

For some dumb reason, the entire student body insisted on standing up for the whole game. The two of them ended up in the middle of the middle, surrounded by many of their basketball teammates. He supposed he had Satoru’s undying popularity to thank for that. 

“Play a game with me,” Satoru said.  

“All your games are stupid.” 

“They are not. ” 

Suguru took a long, deep breath, the chill of late fall clearing his lungs. The assured promise of winter floated in the air like fog under the bright fluorescent lights. “What’s the game then?” 

“Guess what number I’m thinking of.” 

Suguru glared, his shoulder lightly brushing Satoru’s. “No.” 

“Yes. What number am I thinking of?” he asked, laughing. 

“At least give me a range.” 

“Between 1 and 100.” 

Suguru paused, looking at the football field but not paying attention. Harsh whistles blew and spectators applauded, but Suguru had given up on knowing what any of it actually meant. 

“23,” he said, recalling Satoru’s basketball number. 

“Higher,” he said. 

“50?” 

Another whistle. This time, the crowd booed. 

“Higher,” Satoru said, booing along with them. 

“100.” 

“Lower.” 

Suguru glared. “It better not be 69.” 

“I may be immature, but I'm not that immature.” 

Suguru paused. “68, then.” 

“Higher,” Satoru said. 

Suguru sighed, smiling to himself. “70.” 

Satoru groaned, leaning against Suguru’s shoulder. “Lower.” 

“So it was 69,” Suguru said, nudging Satoru in the ribs with his elbow. 

“It was. Sorry, Sugu,” he said, laughing.  

“I can’t believe you lied.” 

“Yeah,” Satoru said sweetly. “I lied.” 

The time on the scoreboard ran out, four zeros blinking to the loud alarm. It wasn’t until the team disappeared back toward the locker room did the students finally sit down. 

Suguru looked out as the band walked around the track, remembering the morning he took pictures of Satoru while he was in gym class. The memory made him smile. “Hey, Satoru?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Let’s go home now,” Suguru said, grabbing him under the arm. “This is boring. Neither of us know how football works.” 

“I’m learning ,” Satoru said in defense. 

Suguru glared. “Let’s go watch a movie or something.” 

Satoru paused in contemplation, gripping the chipped wooden bench. “Why don’t we sneak off to the pond instead?” he asked. 

Suguru opened his mouth to vehemently disagree, but Satoru interrupted.

“Before you say no, I want you to remember how fun it was when we snuck into the city pool. I know you had a good time, so don’t even try to deny it.” 

“And what are we gonna do at the pond?” Suguru asked, trying to keep his voice down. If the others heard where they were going, they’d either want to join or start some awful rumor that would only be fueled by Bug Boy once he got wind of it. Why the hell was he still thinking about Bug Boy? The whole thing was so stupid-

“We could talk, swim, guess what number I’m thinking of, guess what word I’m writing on your back, play truth or dare… Honestly, Sugu, you could use your imagination a little bit more,” Satoru said, shrugging.  

Suguru didn’t want to use his imagination. It often steered him wrong, either by giving him a high-scale anxiety attack or an identity crisis, but he would never say that out loud to Satoru or anyone else for that matter. “I’m stuck on ‘swim.’ In what universe would I go swimming in that nasty pond?” 

“In this universe,” Satoru said, shuffling his feet around the pile of confetti in the stands. “It’s not that nasty. I bet all the algae is dead already.” 

“And why would that be?” Suguru mused. “Oh yeah, because it’s fucking cold.” 

Satoru smiled, sighing to himself. “Will you at least walk down there with me? Don’t you want to experience it at night at least once?” 

Suguru wondered why Satoru was so intent on going to the pond. It was cursed anyway. No one ever went down there. Ever . There was a rumor that someone was murdered at the pond decades ago, but Suguru was almost 100% positive that wasn’t true. Either way, it was considered bad luck. 

“Why so silent, Sugu?” Satoru asked. “Are you scared?” 

“No,” Suguru assured. “Well… what if we get cursed or something?” 

“It’s a random, man-made pond covered in algae most of the year. That whole curse rumor is a bunch of garbage.” 

“Fine, then.” 

“It’s just behind the football field anyway, so it won’t even be that hard to sneak past the supervisors… wait, did you say ‘fine?’” 

“Fine. I’ll go. But no swimming, and you better think of a better game than ‘What Number Am I Thinking Of?’” Suguru said, laughing at the shock on Satoru’s face. 

“Yes, Sugu. I’ll think of the best game ever on the walk there,” Satoru said, standing up.

Suguru followed, unable to wipe the smile off his face. He wanted to go with Satoru, despite the risk of getting caught. 

They hiked up endless stadium stairs to the exit, the smell of cigarette smoke filling Suguru’s nose even though school grounds were strict non-smoking areas. After sneaking around the student parking lot and down the adjacent hill, they followed a tunnel of pine trees to the pond. The sharp pine scent gave Suguru a slight headache. 

As Satoru led the way, Suguru watched him, his breath materializing in the cold air. “Why did you want to go to the pond, Satoru?” he asked. “We went freshman year. Wasn’t that enough?” 

“First of all, we went there in the middle of the day. Where’s the fun in that?” he said, slowing to walk side-by-side with Suguru. “Second of all, as soon as we got there, we saw that bear, remember?” 

Suguru rolled his eyes. “There wasn’t a bear. I think you were just spooked and wanted an excuse to leave.” 

“There was a bear. You might not have seen it, but it was there.” 

Suguru laughed, listening to their footsteps on the gravel. The crowd cheered from a distance. Halftime must’ve been over. “I think it was a shadow, and you’re just being dramatic.” 

“Out of the two of us, you’re the dramatic one,” he said, grinning. 

The yellow moon and the faraway field lights lit Satoru’s face, his blue eyes catching it in just the right way. He shoved his hands in his jacket pocket, kicking some gravel down the hill. Suguru watched it roll, settling in a mud puddle at the bottom. 

“What number am I thinking of, Satoru?” he asked as they reached the end of the gravel road and started across the practice field. 

“69?” 

“Lower,” he droned, rolling his eyes. 

“1.” 

“Higher.” 

“22?” Satoru said, reciting Suguru’s basketball number. 

“Lower.” 

“Ugh, I thought I had it that time,” Satoru complained. The sound of whistles and crowd cheers died down as they entered the wooded trail. “13?” 

“Lower.” 

“God, this game sucks,” he complained, tilting his head up towards the sky. 

Suguru followed his gaze, the stars blinking above them. “You’re the one who made it up. Keep guessing. I’m sure you’ll get there eventually.” 

“Fine… 7.” 

“Lower.” 

“3?” 

“Higher.” 

“Just tell me. I can’t do this anymore,” Satoru complained, his voice mixing with the soft chirping of the crickets. 

“It was 6,” Suguru said, laughing as they entered a clearing. As his eyes adjusted, he was able to make out the pond and the trees surrounding it. The scene was soaked in yellow moonlight, making Suguru wish he had his camera. 

“Why 6?” he asked, groaning. “That number has no significance in our lives or pop culture.” 

Suguru smiled. “I don’t know,” he said. “That’s just the number I associate most with you.” 

He hummed, raising his eyebrows. “I don’t know how, but that’s a very nice compliment, Sugu. Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome,” he said, laughing. “I love associating random things with people. It’s fun.” 

Satoru was quiet for a moment, contemplating something. “If I’m 6, then you’re 7,” he said, sitting down criss-crossed in the grass. “You’re greater than me but only by one because we have to be numerical neighbors.” 

Suguru followed, the ground cold through his jeans. He could still hear the distant crowd noise, but the rippling water and the wind-rustled leaves dampened it. He laid on his back, watching the stars through the canopy of trees. The leaves were almost gone, bare branches reaching out like desperate hands. 

“If I were a color, what color would I be?” Suguru asked. 

Satoru sighed, pausing for a moment. “My first instinct was to say dark blue, but upon further contemplation, I think you’re a deep scarlet red.” 

“What makes you say that?” 

“Don’t ask me,” he said, laughing. “It just is, okay?” 

“Tell me,” Suguru insisted, turning over on his side to face Satoru. “I want to know.” 

He sighed again, this time more dramatically. “You’re velvet. A scarlet velvet, and I can’t think of any other way to explain it,” he said, a tense moment of silence passing before he continued. “You’re my favorite color, Sugu.” 

Suguru knew there was more to that statement. Much, much more. It made Suguru’s chest clench and unclench, a dangerous pressure building there. “You’re light blue, Satoru,” he said, trying his best to ignore the feeling. “Every time I hear you laugh, I see it.” 

Satoru turned to face him, eyes softening. “That might be the best thing anyone’s ever said to me.” 

Suguru laughed, hoping Satoru couldn’t make out the blush on his cheeks. “There’s gold in it too. Like little specks of gold glitter.” 

Satoru’s smile widened, light blue rippling off him in waves. “I love the way your mind works. It’s beautiful,” he said, bits of gold twinkling in his voice. “I wish I could hear your thoughts.” 

“Trust me. No, you don’t,” Suguru said. “Most of the time, I wish I couldn’t hear them.”

Satoru stayed quiet for a few breaths, a strong breeze blowing his hair away from his forehead. “Suguru?” 

He hummed, heart fluttering. “Yeah?” 

“I’m sorry for telling you all those things from before. About my parents,” he paused, a rare look of anxiety flashing in his eyes. “I think I scared you. I could see it on your face-” 

“You didn’t scare me,” Suguru said quickly. “I promise. I was just worried about you.”

“But I don’t want you to worry about me,” he said, breathing out in frustration. “I don’t want anyone to worry about me… but especially not you.” 

“Why?” Suguru whispered. 

“You mean a lot to me,” he said, and it sounded like he’d meant to say those words for a very long time. “I want to be a breath of fresh air for you, Sugu. I want to stay light blue, not fade away into a different color. One you don’t want anymore.”

It was as if Satoru had ripped his own heart out of his chest and offered it. Suguru carefully cradled it, getting blood all over himself. He would’ve done anything to make sure it kept beating. 

“You were born light blue,” Suguru said. “It’s innate. I don’t think that will ever change.” 

“But what if it does?” Satoru asked. “I’m terrified of losing myself, Sugu. And I’m close. I’m so close.” 

Suguru didn’t know what to say. Nothing he thought of in his head seemed good enough to say out loud, so he moved his hand. A quiet gasp escaped his lips when his skin met Satoru’s, fingers intertwining together. Suguru tentatively rubbed his thumb across Satoru’s hand, his breath caught in his throat. 

“Is it okay if I hold your hand?” Suguru asked, almost whispering. “I should’ve asked first.” 

Satoru squeezed his hand in response, shaking his head. “You never have to ask,” he said. “Every time you touch me, I see the scarlet, and it makes me feel better. Good. So good.” 

Suguru's mind was racing, flashes of light blue blinding him. And Satoru was right. It felt so good. 

He wondered what it would be like to be chest to chest with Satoru. Not touching through thin cotton t-shirts but to be skin on skin, hearts beating in a familiar, longing rhythm. He wanted to touch Satoru more. A light blue static buzzed in his ear whenever they touched, infecting him all the way down to his toes. It felt like Satoru, sounded like him, tasted like him, was him. It overwhelmed Suguru, almost enough for him to let go of Satoru’s hand. 

“Sugu, you’re not breathing,” he whispered. “Did I say something wrong?” 

“No,” Suguru said. “Of course not.”

Chapter Text

Dark circles lined Suguru’s eyes that Monday morning. So much so, he thought about sneaking into his mom’s bathroom for some concealer. They had never looked that bad, almost reminiscent of his black eye from the week prior. 

He’d been up all night worrying. Replaying what Bug Boy had said at Homecoming and wondering why he hadn’t said anything to him or anyone else since. As if that wasn’t enough, he’d replayed the pond conversation again and again, staring up at the clinking ceiling fan and mindlessly taking up movie tickets all weekend. He’d thought about it so much, he was beginning to wonder if it’d only been a dream. 

He gripped the bathroom counter, forcing himself to look away from his reflection long enough to hear Satoru’s car horn sound from outside. Since his mother was a hospital resident now, he didn’t have to ride the bus anymore, and even though Suguru was grateful, he couldn’t help but wish he still rode the bus. The circumstances were all wrong. 

The ride to school was normal, quiet but not too quiet, as they drove through the late autumn morning. It wasn’t until they reached their desks in Biology class did Suguru start to unwind himself, the tension from that night's sleeplessness dissolving away like fog in early sunlight. 

“I had a dream about you last night, Sugu,” Satoru said as he turned around at his desk, doodling in the corner of Suguru’s unsubmitted homework before the first bell.

“That must’ve been why I couldn’t sleep,” he said, watching intently as Satoru sketched out a jellyfish with his mechanical pencil. If he were to color it, Suguru thought it would be light blue like Satoru, almost translucent in the classroom’s fluorescent lights. He imagined it swimming as jellyfish do off his paper and out the window, stringy tentacles flowing like waves behind it. 

Satoru looked up, raising an eyebrow. “What does that even mean?”

“If you can’t sleep, it means you’re awake in someone else’s dream. You’ve never heard of that?”

He shrugged, drawing a smiley face on the jellyfish. “No, I haven’t. That’s kinda beautiful though, isn’t it?”

“I guess. I just wish you’d stop dreaming about me so I could sleep,” he said, sighing. He watched Satoru’s hands and the way his tendons moved as he drew, wishing he could trace them with his finger. 

Satoru grinned, placing the end of his pencil between his teeth. “Do you want to know what we were doing in my dream?” he asked. 

Suguru's heart kick-started, fluttering rapidly behind his ribcage. “Floating through a mindless void together I hope,” he said, trying to ignore his heart. Why was it doing that? 

“Not exactly…” he said, smirking. 

Suguru grinned, fighting the blush on his cheeks. “What was I wearing?” he asked only half-sarcastically, drawing a matching jellyfish next to Satoru’s to distract himself. 

“Not much,” Satoru said with a laugh as he tapped his pencil lightly against Suguru’s knuckles. “Nothing at all, actually.” 

Suguru rolled his eyes and smiled. “You think you’re so funny, don’t you?”

Satoru looked up, their eyes meeting. Suguru was hyper aware of Satoru’s knee against his, fighting the urge to jerk away. He thought he might’ve been sweating. Was he sweating? He felt hot. Very hot- 

“You’re blushing again, Sugu,” Satoru said. “Jeez, you’re so easy to work up.” 

Work up? God, what did that even mean? Suguru was not worked up… not in the slightest- 

“Mimi got your tongue?” Satoru asked, laughing at his own cat joke. 

“That wasn’t funny,” Suguru said. 

“Then why are you laughing?” 

“I am not laughing,” he said, through his teeth. 

“You are too,” Satoru said. “Look at you. You can barely keep it in.” 

Suguru opened his mouth to respond, a smart insult on the tip of his tongue, but Satoru’s name was called from across the room. 

“Satoru?” Farquaad said by the door. 

Satoru’s smile fell as his head snapped the other way. “Yeah?” 

“You’re needed in the office.” 

Suguru frowned, looking to Satoru for answers. He only shrugged and got up to leave. 

“You’ll need your bag,” Farquaad said, motioning him to hurry up. 

Satoru slung his backpack over his shoulder and looked at Suguru, pure panic flashing in his eyes. He disappeared down the hallway, leaving Suguru without a lab partner for the rest of the period. 

. . .  

That Monday went by in excruciating seconds, each one longer than the last. It was like Suguru could hear the clock at all times, the tick, tock, tick, tock driving him crazy. He checked his phone at least twenty times every thirty minutes, or was it fifty times? He had no way of knowing. Either way, Satoru’s name never popped up, and Suguru was too afraid to text him. 

Basketball practice was another layer of hell without Satoru. He went through the motions, muscle memory barely getting him through the countless drills. 

It wasn’t until after practice had ended did Suguru realize how embarrassing it was not to have a driver’s license. He called his mom to pick him up. The epiphany that this would be their first conversation in a week made his heart beat a little faster. 

He sat on the curb, watching his teammates drive away in their cars with their driver's licenses, and longed for Satoru and his civic. He wondered where he was, why he was gone, how he was doing, if he was hurting… Suguru assumed he was. He assumed his mother had died. He assumed-

“Suguru?” his mother said, rolling down the window of her SUV. “Where’s Satoru?”

He stood up and slid into the passenger seat. “He left.” 

“Left to go where?” 

“I don’t know,” Suguru said, choking up. “I think something happened to his mom.” 

“Maybe you should call him-” 

“I can’t call him,” Suguru said, looking out the window as she started to drive. It was already dark out. Since when did it get dark so early? “He doesn’t need to waste his time on me if it really is about his mom.” 

She sighed. “I don’t think he would see it that way.” 

“ He might not see it that way, but that’s the way it is.” 

She was quiet for a moment, driving through the suburban streets. Suguru hated how each house looked the same. Hated it more than he ever had. 

“Suguru?” 

He looked over, instinctively building a brick wall around himself. “Yeah?” 

“Are you okay?” she asked. Based on the sound of her voice, she’d been holding onto that question all week long. “You don’t seem like yourself.” 

Suguru didn’t know what to say, the events of the past few months flashing through his mind like one long, anxiety-inducing film. He so wished she hadn’t asked that question. It was so simple yet the most complicated question she could’ve asked. 

He imagined saying “ no ” and telling her every last thing that had been killing him for months now. He imagined telling her about what he’d seen Satoru doing at the 13th street party and how jealous it had made him. Telling her about the Homecoming dance and his fight with Bug Boy, but also about dancing with Satoru and how safe that felt. Telling her about going to college or more accurately, not going to college yet . And recently, telling her about his conversation with Satoru at the pond, because Satoru saw him as scarlet , and he felt the overwhelming need to tell someone about that because it meant the world to him-

“Suguru?” she repeated. “I’m your mother. I want to know how you are-” 

“I’m okay,” he said, the honesty policy remaining dead under freezing soil. 

She slumped her shoulders, sighing as they pulled into the garage. She turned off the car and faced him. “You can always talk to me, you know?” she said. “If you don’t feel okay, you can tell me.” 

This was the first time Suguru saw himself in his mother. He could see her anxiety. He could see the swimming sea of doubt in her eyes as she tried to pick her words, horrified that she’d chosen the wrong ones. 

“Mom, I… I’m so sorry for what happened last week,” he said, the words spilling out his mouth like water. Something broke in his chest, releasing a painful pressure that had been building for days. “I know you were just worried about me, and I was so awful to you-” 

“Let’s not think about that anymore, okay?” she assured, placing a tender hand on his shoulder. “It’s over now.” 

Relief washed over him like a warm shower, slowly easing the tension from his muscles and clearing his head. “It’s over now,” he repeated, mostly to himself. 

“Yes,” she said. “It’s over. I accept your apology.” 

Suguru sighed as she embraced him from across the center console, the familiar smell of her perfume making his heart slow. “I’m sorry, Mom,” he whispered in her ear. 

“It’s over now, Suguru,” she said again, the repetition of that phrase pulling him further away from the edge. “I forgive you.” 

. . .

Clink, clink, clink. 

Suguru knew it was late. Very late. He had to be up early for school the next day, but for some reason, that made sleep even more impossible.

Satoru, Satoru, Satoru . 

He was the only thing Suguru could think about, wondering if the dream Satoru had described that morning in Biology was real or only a joke.  Light blue infected his mind even in Satoru’s absence, and Suguru didn’t know what to do with himself. 

He imagined Satoru was in bed with him, only their shoulders touching at first, then their hands. Suguru felt the sweet burn in his palm he always felt whenever he touched Satoru, further convincing himself he was there. He crawled over to the side of the bed Satoru always slept on and buried his face in the pillow. He could smell the strawberry candy… or was he just imagining that? 

Satoru was under him, his face in his neck. Suguru lifted his head and combed his hands through Satoru's hair. He did it over and over again, with ease at first, but it wasn't enough. 

He leaned down, their lips just barely grazing. And then Satoru opened his mouth, gliding his hands underneath Suguru's t-shirt. It turned desperate. They were kissing, touching, and gasping each other's names.  And then-

Suguru's phone was ringing. He turned over and sat up, heart pounding and lungs heaving. A foreign, desperate longing planted itself in the pit of his stomach. 

It was Satoru, his name glowing on the phone screen. Suguru let it ring a few times as he tried to calm himself down.

"Hello?" he whispered into the phone, anticipating the sound of Satoru’s voice. 

“Are you asleep?” he asked, the words weighted with tears. 

“No,” Suguru said, holding the phone closer to his ear. “Not even close.” 

“I’m really sorry about this, but I’m outside your house right now-” 

“You are?” Suguru asked, already putting on his shoes. “I’ll meet you in just a second.” 

“If you were asleep, Sugu, please don’t worry about it, okay?” 

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve been worried about you all day,” he whispered as he tip-toed down the stairs, his eye catching the hallway’s grandfather clock. 2:33 am… Not that it mattered. 

Satoru’s broken sigh sounded through the phone speaker, making Suguru walk faster. “I should’ve called you earlier, but… I didn’t know what to say or how to say it and-” 

Satoru stopped talking as soon as Suguru opened the front door. 

“I’m hanging up now,” Suguru said, making eye contact with Satoru. He was leaning against his car, the phone cradled close to his ear. 

“Okay,” he whispered before Suguru hit the red end button. 

He half-jogged down the short flight of stairs and across the driveway, meeting Satoru at his car. He eyed him up and down, noting his gray sweatpants and one of their basketball shirts with the North High logo on the front. He didn’t have a jacket, and Suguru couldn’t help but worry about how cold he was. 

“Satoru,” he breathed, the name sounding even better aloud than it did in his head. “My mom was right. I should’ve just called you-” 

His words were cut short by Satoru’s embrace. He seemed desperate to hold someone, his face buried in the crook of Suguru’s neck. “Can I stay with you tonight?” 

Suguru slowly returned the affection, smelling strawberries and hospitals on Satoru’s hair. “Always.” 

Satoru’s sobs shook his body, vibrating through his ribs like an earthquake. It destroyed him, fragile towers crumbling to rumble. 

“Is Mai-” 

“She had a stroke, Sugu,” Satoru said, his arms tightening around his waist. “She was in a lot of pain… so they put her on a bunch of machines.” He paused, forcing himself to say his next words. “I don’t think she’s gonna wake up.” 

Tears bit at the corners of Suguru’s eyes, threatening to fall all the way down. With a hard blink, he forced them away. 

“What can I do to help you?” Suguru asked, mindful not to say he was sorry. He knew Satoru hated that.

He paused, giving Suguru one more tight squeeze before backing away. “Can I sleep here with you?” he asked, wiping a lone tear off his cheek. “They wouldn’t let me stay in the hospital with her, and… I can’t stand to be in my own house.” 

Suguru nodded, immediately leading them back to the house. “What about your grandfather?” Suguru asked as he walked up the driveway. 

Satoru sighed, wrapping his arms around himself in the cold. “He accepted her death a long time ago, I think,” he said, shaking his head. “I wish I had done that.” 

Suguru stalled at the door, his fingers on the handle. “I’m so sorry, Satoru. I know you hate it when I say that, but I really am… sorry.” 

Suguru watched as a blanket of grief wrapped itself around Satoru’s shoulders, trapping him within himself. He wanted to undo it. Find a way to simply touch Satoru’s hand and absorb all the pain from his body, extracting it like poison from his bloodstream. 

“I know, Sugu,” he whispered. “At least when I look at you, I know you truly mean it.” 

Suguru let out a long, shaky breath before opening the door and leading Satoru up the stairs. A distracted smile spread across his face as Mimi ran into the closet once she realized Suguru wasn’t alone.

Satoru laid down on his designated side of the bed near the wall, waiting for Suguru to join him. “Mimi ran away,” he said, smiling too. “It’s good to know that some things never change.” 

Suguru laid down beside him, starkly reminded of what he’d been doing just a few moments earlier in that bed. God, what the fuck was that? He wouldn’t dare touch Satoru for the rest of the night. Maybe he should never touch Satoru again, because what the fuck was that? 

No, no, no, no, no-

“Can I ask you something?” Satoru asked, turning on his side so they were facing each other.

“Sure," Suguru said, swallowing his own heartbeat. He wanted to touch him so badly. Run his finger down his jaw, press his palm against his chest, tangle his hands in his hair… No-

“I’m not hurting you, am I?” 

There were so many ways Satoru was hurting him. Their sadness was shared. Their happiness was shared. Everything Satoru felt was shared with Suguru no matter how hard he tried to keep it to himself. Suguru knew all that, so he worried, almost to the brink of panic, that Satoru could see right through him too. 

“I’m hurting because I care about you,” Suguru admitted. “And there’s nothing I can do to help you.” 

“You are helping me.” 

Suguru sighed, his hand twitching with the desire to touch Satoru’s fingers. “But I can’t fix it, and I really want to fix it.” 

Satoru’s lip quivered, a tear falling from the corner of his eye and slipping over the bridge of his nose. “I know,” he whispered. “But no one can fix it, and that’s the worst part.” 

Suguru paused, not knowing what to say. Why did he never know what to say anymore? 

He settled on the only thing he could think of, no matter how cliche it may have been. “It’s going to be okay, Satoru,” Suguru said, trying to convince himself too. “Eventually, it will be.” 

When Satoru pulled Suguru to him, hugging him close, Suguru’s heart short-circuited, glitching, stopping, and shocking itself alive again. He spread his palm across Satoru’s back, rubbing softly over the space between his shoulder blades. The rhythm quieted his thoughts, solely focusing on how their chests were touching despite his pact with himself to never touch Satoru again. 

He shouldn’t be touching Satoru because each time he had, he could barely stand to be without him. When they were close like this, unknown feelings sprouted in Suguru’s mind like seeds of self-doubt and desperate longing. Yet, he was so addicted. 

“When you say it’s going to be okay, I can’t help but believe you,” he said, tangling their legs together. “Even though I know it’s a lie.” 

“It’s going to be okay, Satoru,” Suguru said again. He said it over and over, feeling Satoru’s muscles relax further each time. 

Suguru’s voice became a murmur before quieting to nothing. There was a brief moment where he thought Satoru had fallen asleep before he eventually spoke again, his voice nothing more than a whisper. 

“I hope you never know what it’s like,” he said through a desperate breath. “To lose your mother in the slowest, ugliest way possible."

Suguru held him tighter, counting Satoru’s heartbeats through his t-shirt. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, and he almost got to eight before drifting off to sleep, pulling Satoru down with him.

Chapter Text

It had been almost three years since Suguru had set foot in Satoru’s bedroom, so when Satoru invited him over after their last practice of pre-season, Suguru was excited to see how different it looked. His hair was still dripping wet from his impromptu shower when he stepped into Satoru’s room. Despite his expectations, the room was the exact same, and for some reason, he was relieved. 

The same posters of bands, pretentious films Satoru had never seen, and glow-in-the-dark stars decorated his walls and ceilings. So much so, Suguru could hardly see the gray paint. It was messy too, dirty gym clothes littering the floor along with a heap of used towels in front of his closet. 

With much concern, Suguru went over to Satoru’s fish tank, the only difference he could find, and tapped lightly at the glass, sighing in relief when a Betta fish swam to meet his finger. 

“Well, don’t act all surprised,” Satoru groaned from the door with nothing but a pair of boxers hanging low on his hips and a towel on his head. “I can at least take care of my fish, you know.”  

Suguru tried to stop his eyes from wandering over the curve of Satoru’s shoulders, the dip of his collarbone, the line of his waist… Shit, they were wandering. 

Suguru smiled, turning back to the fish as it swam circles around the tank. “What’s its name?” 

“Swimmy.” 

“Swimmy?” he asked, staring at the little red fish. It stared back, creepily unblinking. “Couldn’t you have thought of something a little more creative than that?” 

“He swims around a lot, so I named him Swimmy. I think that’s plenty creative,” Satoru said, grinning. He threw the towel into the pile and slipped on a t-shirt. “He’s cute, isn’t he?” 

Suguru nodded, wondering if Swimmy could see with those all-knowing eyes how sexually frustrating it was for Suguru to be in this room. 

“We should watch a shark movie tonight,” Suguru suggested, lounging out on Satoru’s bed. Satoru’s strawberry smell was all around him, and it gave him a pleasant headache. 

He frowned, lying down beside Suguru. “Are you trying to scare Swimmy?” he joked, tilting his head to the side. “I don’t want him to have nightmares all night.” 

Suguru laughed, running his fingers over Satoru’s dark blue quilt. “We should definitely watch a scary movie tonight, though. It’s Friday… which means tomorrow’s Halloween.” 

“Oh, I’m very much aware,” Satoru assured, reaching across his nightstand to grab his laptop. His shirt rode up, exposing a sliver of skin. Suguru forced himself to look away, only for his eyes to catch the muscle lines in Satoru’s legs, his skin making a soft, rubbing sound against the quilt-

“Hey?” Satoru asked as he placed the laptop between them. “Did you hear what I said?” 

Suguru blinked a few times, “No, sorry.” 

Satoru laughed, logging on to his computer. “We’re going to the party, right?” he asked. “On 13th?” 

No, no, no-

“Sure,” Suguru said, ignoring the impending sense of doom. “I’ll even drink this time.” He was definitely going to need a little bit of alcohol to make it through another party on 13th. 

“It’s gonna be great,” Satoru said. “Trust me.” 

“If I have to drive us home, it’s automatically not great.” 

Satoru laughed. “I won’t let that happen again, okay? I learned my lesson.” 

Suguru looked at the screen, the newest shark movie pulled up with the cursor on the play button. “Um… Satoru, can I ask you something before we start the movie?” 

Satoru shrunk down into the bed, a pile of strawberry candies on his chest. He looked up and hummed, raising an eyebrow. 

“Can you make me a promise?” 

“Depends.” 

Suguru sighed, the words all mixed up in his mind. “This is gonna sound dumb, and I feel stupid even asking but-” 

“It’s fine, Sugu,” Satoru assured, popping a candy in his mouth. “Just ask me.” 

Suguru huffed, wiping his sweaty hands on his joggers. “If something…  bad happens at the party, will you take me home? Immediately afterwards?” 

Satoru paused and widened his eyes, the candy protruding from inside his cheek. “Something bad? Like what?” 

Suguru sighed in frustration and looked up at the glow-in-the-dark stars, hating how quiet Satoru’s room was without a clinking ceiling fan to gawk at. “Like… what happened at the Homecoming dance.” 

There was a pause. A long, excruciating pause that probably only lasted only a millisecond before Satoru finally spoke. “Hey, look at me, please,” Satoru said, pulling on his sleeve. 

Suguru forced his eyes to meet Satoru’s. “You don’t have to worry about that, okay?” he said, flattening his palm on Suguru’s shoulder. “I’ll always watch out for you. I can protect you-” 

“Oh, don’t make it sound like that,” Suguru complained, covering his face with his hands. “I just want you to promise that you’ll take me straight home if something bad happens. I don’t want to have to look for you behind every closed door again, okay?” 

“What does that mean?” Satoru asked. “ Behind every closed door ?” 

Suguru stopped, the air trapped in his throat. An awful pressure built there, creating a tight knot of pain and apprehension. 

“It was just a hypothetical,” he scrambled. “Nothing serious.” 

Satoru’s brow furrowed. A million thoughts flipped behind his eyes like pages of a book that so conveniently held all of Suguru’s secrets. “But you said ‘again.’”

“Did I?” 

“You did.” 

“I don’t think so.” 

Satoru half-grinned in confusion. “That’s the thing, Sugu. I remember everything you say, and you said ‘again.’” 

Fuck. 

“If I said it, I didn’t mean it, alright? Jeez.” 

Satoru frowned, slowly taking his hand off Suguru’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you-” 

“No, you didn’t upset me,” Suguru interrupted, wanting to kill himself for being so anxious. He was talking about something he didn’t want to talk about to the last person he wanted to talk about it with. And it didn’t help that he was in Satoru’s room with the smell of him everywhere. And Satoru had been touching him only a second ago, but now he wasn’t and Suguru didn’t want to admit how agonizing that felt- 

“Suguru?” he said. The sound of his full name coming from Satoru’s lips only made his heart race even faster. “I’ll take you home from the party if you ask me to, okay? If you want to go home, I’ll go with you.” 

“You will?” 

“God, of course I will,” Satoru said, exasperated. “I don’t know why you had to make it such a big deal.” 

Suguru let out a harbored breath, his chest sinking into Satoru’s mattress. “You promise?” 

“I promise,” Satoru said, smiling. “I swear it on Swimmy’s life.” 

“That feels official,” Suguru joked, the residual anxiety continuing to steal the air from his lungs. “Thank you.” 

Satoru laughed. “It’s gonna be fine, Sugu,” he said, switching the lamp off. “It’s Halloween. What’s the worst that could happen?” 

. . .

Satoru had kissed a boy before. Better yet, he’d gotten a blow job from one. 

This new revelation made Suguru want to hide under a rock for the rest of eternity, tie concrete blocks to his feet and jump off a boat, lie down in the middle of the road to let cars run over him, climb all the stairs in the tallest building in the world and-

“Well, shit . I wouldn’t have told you if you were gonna go brain dead,” Satoru said, laughing from his place in the middle of Suguru’s carpeted floor. 

“Are you being for real?” Suguru asked, his mind racing. Why the hell did he bring this up an hour before the party? “When did this happen?” 

Satoru was practicing his shooting form, and the motion distracted Suguru out of his mind. He shot the basketball up towards the ciling, narrowly missing the fan. It had a nice spin on it, slowing at the height of the shot before coming down to land in his hands. Suguru noticed how the veins in Satoru’s arms tensed with the motion, the form flawless. The basketball left his hand with a soft, callused sound, returning in a sweet rhythm to his waiting grasp. 

“Are you interrogating me?” Satoru asked, looking over to Suguru who was sitting at his desk. “Cause it sounds like you’re interrogating me.” 

“You’re the one that just came out and said it,” Suguru complained, pretending he wasn’t absolutely mesmerized by Satoru’s existence. He spun around in his desk chair, dizzying the forbidden thoughts from his mind. “You can’t say that shit out of the blue and expect me to gloss over it.” 

“I just said it to see how you’d react,” Satoru said, still laughing.

“So it’s not even true?” 

“Oh, it’s definitely true.” 

Suguru felt like gagging. “Who?” he asked. There was nothing good that would come from learning that information, but he had to know. One of their conversations right before the Homecoming dance came back to Suguru. This must’ve been the person Satoru really wanted to go with… 

“I don’t think it matters,” Satoru said, shooting the ball again. He seemed completely oblivious to the absolute shitstorm going on in Suguru’s mind, and he didn’t know if that was a testament to his own acting ability or if it all conveniently went over Satoru’s head. Either way, he was grateful. 

“You can’t just… not tell me,” Suguru complained, wiping the sweat off his hands. “I want to know.” 

“Based on how you reacted to the initial information, I’m scared.” 

Well, maybe he wasn’t that good of an actor after all. “You’re scared of me?” 

“Of course not! It’s more like… I’m scared I’ll give you a heart attack.” 

Satoru was going to give him a heart attack no matter what he said or did. “You won’t. I’m totally fine.” 

Satoru raised an eyebrow. “It was that senior benchwarmer from Junior year.” 

“Ghost Boy?!” he groaned. Ghost Boy, as he was conveniently called in Suguru’s name-avoidant mind, was a skinny, quiet upperclassman with the palest skin Suguru had ever seen. So pale, it was practically translucent. 

“So that’s what you reduced him to? Perfect,” Satoru said laughing, continuing to shoot the ball upward. 

“I cannot believe this,” Suguru said, still painfully stunned. “Ghost Boy sucked you off. For what? Five dollars?” 

Satoru paused, hugging the basketball against his chest. He looked over, amusement in his eyes. “He did it for free. In fact, he asked me if he could do it.”

“Nothing is for free in this economy,” Suguru said. He tried not to imagine it. Failed. Tried again. Failed… again. 

“It was just the once, Sugu. No need to be all jealous,” Satoru assured, visibly holding back his laughter. 

“I’ve never been jealous of anyone in my life,” Suguru lied, fighting the urge to scream. 

He had so many questions, he couldn’t even keep them all straight in his head. First, since when did Satoru like guys? Second, why the fuck would he be bringing that up now? Third, did he enjoy his… relationship with Ghost Boy? He wondered what he’d been doing when Satoru was getting sucked off. Had he been in his room with Mimi and the ceiling fan? Or had he been just outside the team room door, waiting for Satoru to finish “changing?” 

“You look like you’ve seen… a ghost ,” Satoru said, laughing out loud. 

Suguru glared. “Really?” 

“You gotta admit. That was a good one.” 

“If you don’t tell me why you just now decided to divulge this very personal information within the next few minutes, I might internally combust,” Suguru admitted, masking his brutal honesty with forced humor. 

“I don’t know, Sugu,” Satoru said, still very much amused. “Maybe I just… wanted you to know.” 

Suguru paused, the many questions on the tip of his tongue. He caved into himself and searched for a logical explanation as to why he was feeling… whatever this feeling was. “How many times did you two-” 

“Just the once,” Satoru said, rolling the basketball back towards his bag before getting up. “I told you because I want you to have fun at the party.” 

Suguru didn’t know what to say. He watched as Satoru slipped his shirt off, replacing it with his basketball jersey and tucking it into the front of his jeans. Of course Satoru would go as himself for Halloween. 

“If you wanna go upstairs with some girl… or some guy. I think you should go for it, you know?” Satoru said, mussing his hair in Suguru’s mirror. “Only if you feel comfortable, that is.” 

Suguru was too busy imprinting the image of Satoru’s bare back in his mind to fully understand what he meant by that. “You know I’ve never even kissed anyone, right?” 

Satoru spun around, eyes wide and jaw slack. “You’ve never… not even once ?” 

Suguru shook his head, wondering if a fall from his bedroom window would kill him or just severely handicap him. Either way, it provided an out from this conversation. “Nope.” 

“Not even on the playground in elementary school?” 

“Why do you have to make it sound so sad like that, Satoru?” Suguru asked, covering his face with his hands. “It’s embarrassing.”

Satoru came closer, leaning on the edge of Suguru’s desk. “No, it’s not,” he assured, a cloud of strawberry fog hanging over him. “There’s no shame in waiting.” 

It wasn’t that Suguru had been waiting on purpose. It was that an opportunity he would've been willing to pursue had never presented itself. And more than ever, he was beginning to wonder what that opportunity even looked like. 

“Maybe tonight will be the night, who knows?” Suguru said, nervously laughing to himself. “I’m not counting on it though.” 

“I’m sorry, Sugu,” Satoru said, sighing. “I know we never really talk about things like this. I’m not sure why we haven’t, but my attempt at it went totally off the rails.” 

Suguru got up from his desk chair, grabbing his cowboy hat from the closet. His mother had picked out the costume, insisting that he wear the hat, boots, and belt buckle. He felt ridiculous in the get-up, but it was too late to change costumes now. 

“I’m not sure either,” Suguru said as he undid the knot in his hair, letting it cascade over his shoulders. “You can talk to me about those things, though. It doesn’t bother me.” 

Lies. 

“I don’t know, Sugu. I feel like it bothers you-” 

“I’m just embarrassed about my inexperience. That’s all,” Suguru said, speaking only half-truths. For some reason, he didn’t want to hear about Satoru’s relationship with other girls… and guys apparently. The revelation hit him like a poisoned arrow, an awful wound turning his veins black. 

Satoru sighed, watching as Suguru tucked his shirt in and slipped on his boots. “You’re bound to get a kiss tonight in that costume,” he said, eyeing him up and down. 

Suguru wanted to slap himself in the face. “I look like a football team mascot.” 

“A sexy one.” 

“God, just shut up, will you?” Suguru complained, rummaging across his vanity for his earrings. 

“I bet millions of people have tried to flirt with you, and you just won’t have it.” 

“You’re wrong,” Suguru said, leading Satoru out into the hallway. They passed his mom and Ren asleep on the couch, a black and white sitcom playing on the television. Both their mouths were open with their heads resting against each other’s temples. The sight calmed Suguru’s heart. 

He was unaware he had stalled to watch them until Satoru started to pull him to the door. “How lucky could we get?” he whispered through a smile. “They’re dead asleep.” 

Suguru followed him out the front door, locking it behind him. “I told my mom we were going to a basketball bonding thing, so I should be alright,” he said, tilting his head up to the sky. 

Winter was coming out of hibernation. Suguru felt it in the way the wind changed, saw it in the birdless skies, and heard it in the rustle of long-since fallen leaves. 

“I should’ve brought a jacket,” Satoru said, half-running down the porch steps to his car. 

Suguru sat down in the passenger seat, running a thumb over the hot chocolate stain. “I swear if we’re the only ones dressed up-” 

“We won’t be,” Satoru assured, starting the car. “Trust me.” 

Suguru glared. “I hesitate to trust you when it comes to things like this.” 

“Would I steer you wrong?” 

“You’re the type to tell me it's a costume party when it’s not just to see me in a ridiculous costume. No other reason.” 

“As I’ve already stated, it’s sexy, not ridiculous. And besides, if you just ditch the hat, you’re basically normal again.” 

“In what universe would I casually wear these ugly boots and still be considered normal?” 

Satoru laughed, the sound pleasant and warm. “I’m so glad you’re my best friend, Sugu. My life would be no fun without you.” 

Suguru swallowed hard, trying to calm the butterflies in his stomach. “Shut up. You know I can’t take compliments.” 

“And there’s another thing I love about you,” Satoru said, gazing over from the driver’s seat. “Shall I continue listing things off?” 

Suguru huffed, wondering if Satoru could see the butterflies floating out his mouth and swarming around the car. “If you want me to punch you, then go on ahead.”

Satoru hummed. “For some reason, I’m not intimidated by your punching abilities. I wonder why that would be?” he asked, sarcasm lifting his voice. 

Suguru opened his mouth to argue, but the 13th street house came into view, multi-colored lights flashing through flag–covered windows. “It’s more crowded than usual, isn’t it?” he said, fighting the urge to bounce his leg up and down. 

“Relax, Sugu,” Satoru said, parking on the opposite side of the street. He killed the engine, the hum of it slowly dying through the cabin. “Two shots of vodka and you’ll be totally fine.” 

“You know I hate drinking.” 

“I’m not going to force you to drink, but I’m going to strongly encourage it. Okay?” 

Suguru shrunk down in his seat, eyeing the front door. A few guys from the basketball team were guarding it like discount bouncers. Dressed as policemen too, no less. 

“Maybe I need to be medicated for my anxiety instead of becoming an alcoholic,” Suguru suggested, wringing his hands together. “This is too much for me.” 

“Stop this madness,” Satoru complained, opening Suguru’s car door from across the center console. “And see? I told you everyone else would be dressing up.” 

Suguru watched as a drunken group of cheerleaders, a few zombies, and a pirate were granted admission by the policemen. 

“Why didn’t you dress up, Satoru?” he complained, reluctantly stepping outside the car. He could hear the bass even from the other side of the street, which did nothing to smooth out his nerves. 

“I’m a basketball player!” he said, gesturing to his jersey as they walked. “I thought that was pretty obvious.” 

“Isn’t the point of Halloween to dress up as something you’re not?” 

“So you’re not actually a cowboy?!” Satoru said, grinning. “Could’ve fooled me.” 

Suguru glared. He would’ve responded, but the policemen were in earshot. He didn’t feel like exposing any part of his personality in front of them. 

“Satoru!” Cop #1 said, giving Satoru a handshake. Did every guy know the universal handshake? At this point, was it too late for Suguru to ask-

“Suguru?” Cop #2 said, making his neck snap in that direction. “What’s up?” 

“Oh… hey,” he said, realizing he’d never sounded more awkward in his life. “How’s it going?” 

Really. How’s it going… couldn’t he think of something better than that?

“Good, man. I like the costume,” Cop #2 responded, tipping an imaginary cowboy hat. 

“My mom picked it out,” Suguru said, vomiting his words. Why the fuck had he said that? Suguru was starting to think he didn’t have the mental capacity to act normal. 

“Did she?” Cop #2 had a cringed smile on his face. “That’s… nice.” 

Before his self-hatred could spread any further, Satoru grabbed his arm, freeing him from the awful obligations of forced small talk. “Let’s get drunk, Sugu,” he said, giving Cop #2 a friendly wave as he dragged him inside. 

“That was so good,” Satoru said, stifling a laugh. “I’ve never overheard a more natural conversation in my life.” 

“Shut the fuck up,” Suguru complained. “At least I’m trying.” 

Satoru pulled him through the front door, the sweet smell of strawberry vape smoke floating in the air, or maybe it was just Satoru making it smell like that. 

“Remember, Sugu,” Satoru shouted over the music. “Go with the flow, alright?” 

Suguru smiled, the phrase lifting his heart ever so slightly out of the pit of his stomach and back behind his rib cage. “I thought that wasn’t possible for me?” 

“Anything’s possible with a little bit of alcohol,” he said, leading Suguru to the back kitchen. 

They snaked through sweaty bodies, the heat already weighing in the air. Suguru’s boots clung slightly to the hardwood floor, sticky with spilt beer. On the way to the bar, Suguru noticed something new about the 13th house, his eyes surveying the black-lit walls and neon designs. 

There was another tub of mysterious, alcoholic juice on the counter with red solo cups stacked next to it. Satoru got them both drinks with a ladle as Suguru took off his cowboy hat and left it on the counter, the feel of it on his head a constant reminder of his conversational failures. 

“I made sure you had some pineapple chunks in yours,” he shouted, offering Suguru a toast. 

With a sigh of regret, Suguru lightly tapped his cup against Satoru’s. “What are we toasting?” 

Satoru lifted his eyebrows as he took a sip. “To Lisa for forcing you to wear that hot costume.” 

“I’m not toasting that.” 

“Fine… To me for not wearing a costume and still getting in.” 

“So you admit it?” 

Satoru smiled, chugging the rest of his drink only to refill it almost immediately. “Admit what?” 

“Don’t play dumb.” 

“Play dumb?” 

“Stop repeating everything I say.” 

“Repeating everything you say?” Satoru said, throwing an arm around Suguru’s shoulders. “Am I doing that?” 

Suguru laughed, popping a pineapple chunk in his mouth. “You’re doing it.” 

“That’s right, Sugu. Eat the pineapple,” he said with a mocking evil laugh. 

He’d pay for this later with exponential guilt and a pounding headache, but it was… fun . Not that he’d ever admit it. 

Satoru was still talking, but Suguru could hardly hear him over the swirling of his vision. The nervous swarm of butterflies that had always plagued him transformed into bubbly suds, tasting like pineapple and strawberries whenever he spoke. The feeling went straight to his head, thoughts swimming around in weightless clouds of light blue euphoria.

“Will you dance with me, Satoru?” he asked over the music. 

“Whaaaaaat?!” he exclaimed. “You don’t have to ask me twice.” 

Suguru set his empty cup on the counter as Satoru grabbed his wrist, little bits of light blue electricity sparking through his fingers and into Suguru’s skin. “We better start dancing before I change my mind,” Suguru said, grinning. 

Satoru was holding both of Suguru’s hands now, leading him away from the back and towards the main room. The colored lights absorbed into his white hair, so much so, it didn’t even seem white anymore. 

Satoru said something as he backed through the crowd, but Suguru couldn’t hear him over the music. He only smiled and nodded, the alcohol doing nothing to dampen the shock he felt under Satoru’s touch. It was like a constant static buzzing in his ears, crackling across his vision, and warming his blood. 

Suguru remembered how they’d danced at Homecoming, the memory coursing through his veins with lovely familiarity as his hands made their way up Satoru’s forearms. Everything else slowed and blurred with Satoru’s face the only clear thing he could focus on.

Suguru was too drunk to care about Ghost Boy, or Bug Boy for that matter. He’d eaten two chunks of pineapple and drank two cups of the mysterious alcoholic juice, which was more than enough to make him forget his inhibitions. Which was also why his hands were on Satoru’s waist, shamelessly slipping under the hem of his jersey. 

Satoru stared down at Suguru’s hands and smirked, leaning close to whisper into Suguru’s ear. “What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, a laugh lifting his voice. 

Suguru pressed his hands flat against his bare waist, digging his thumbs in just enough for Satoru to notice. “My forbidden thoughts are winning, Satoru,” he said, laughing softly against his neck. 

“You have those?” he asked, placing his hands over Suguru’s. “I didn’t think you were capable of thoughts like that.” 

Fuck Ghost Boy. Fuck Bug Boy. Fuck staying sober. Suguru had never felt more alive in months… years… maybe ever, and it felt so good. It was addicting, a sweet-tasting drug dissolving on his tongue and sending sparks through his brain. 

“Everyone has forbidden thoughts,” Surguru said. “I can usually quiet them, but you’re making it exponentially difficult.” 

Satoru sighed, the strawberry breath warming Suguru’s cheek. “I wish you could read my mind.” 

The static was too hot now, flushing behind his face and spreading down his neck like little strawberry patches. “Why would you want me to read your mind?” he asked, giggles rising in his chest. 

“That way, you’d know my forbidden thoughts without me having to tell you,” Satoru said, his lips grazing against the shell of Suguru’s ear. “I’d feel so much better if you just knew.” 

“Tell me,” Suguru said. “They can’t be as bad as mine.” 

“There’s nothing bad about you.” 

Suguru didn’t realize how much he’d needed to hear those words until he heard them. The syllables were faint, metaphorical kisses within the bass-heavy music, yet Suguru managed to catch them in mid-air, pocketing them as delicately as he could. 

“How do you know?” was what Suguru wanted to ask, his question stopped short by a tap on the shoulder. 

Before he turned around, a million different scenarios played out in his head. Images of Bug Boy in a demon costume or Ghost Boy haunting behind him. The cursed energy of the 13th Street house was both heightened and lessened under the influence of alcohol, so when he spun around, hands leaving the warm skin of Satoru’s waist, and saw Hina with little devil horns on her head, Suguru had a heart attack within a waterfall of relief. 

“Hina!” he said as he anxiously rubbed his palms on his jeans, the light blue static still burning there. “What’s up?” 

She covered her mouth with the back of her hand, giggling at him. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

Suguru forced the image of Ghost Boy out of his head as soon as it popped up. “You look good,” he said instead, gesturing to her costume. “Why’d you choose a devil?” 

“Honestly, it was an excuse to dress slutty on a budget,” she said, poking her horns. 

Satoru wrapped his arm around Suguru’s shoulder. “We’ve met,” he said, raising an eyebrow at Hina. “Homecoming?” 

“Yeah, I’m-” 

“Hina. I know,” Satoru said, laughing. “I’m much better at names than Suguru.” 

She smiled, turning her attention back to Suguru. “Do you wanna… come upstairs with me? There are a couple of us playing Seven Minutes if you guys want to join.” 

Under normal circumstances, Suguru would have found a way to politely decline. However, these were not normal circumstances. He was pretty tipsy. Satoru’s hand was still around his shoulder, which was slowly melting him down. And his heart was fluttering behind his rib cage after what had just happened between the two of them. What even was that-

“We’re down,” Satoru said, interrupting Suguru’s internal breakdown with the worst possible answer he could’ve said. “Lead the way.” 

Hina’s smile widened as she clapped her hands together. “Perfect,” she said before leading them through a labyrinth of dancing teenagers, checking behind her every now and then to make sure they were still following. 

“How exciting is this?” Satoru said with a drunken air around him, dragging Suguru along by his wrist. “You’re bound to have your first kiss now.” 

Suguru had no idea what was going on. “What the fuck is this game we’re playing?” 

“Come on !” Satoru exclaimed, following Hina up through a tarp-clad doorway and up a set of carpeted stairs. “Have you never seen a movie before? Read a book? Been to a high school?” 

“I’ve done all three of those things, Satoru, and I swear I have no idea what’s happening,” he paused, the alcohol slowing his thoughts. “And why would my first kiss have anything to do with it?” 

“I’m just gonna let you find out on your own, Sugu. I think you’re gonna… totally love this,” he said with a grin as they reached the top of the stairs, the floorplan opening up to another living room area. 

About ten other people were lounging around the room, weed and peach-flavored vape smoke sat low in the air. Tacky tapestries hung on the walls, the hardwood floor was sticky, and the mantle was decorated with a collection of empty liquor bottles. Lit only by haphazardly strung Christmas lights and a shadeless-lamp, the room had an easy vibe to it that Suguru oddly enjoyed. 

“Here. It’s strawberry lemonade flavored,” Hina said, handing the two of them cans of hard seltzer. 

Suguru loved the taste, the strawberry flavor sizzling on his tongue. “Thanks.” 

“I’ll write your names on these pieces of paper.” Hina scribbled in her notepad, tore it out, and tossed the pieces in a red solo cup. “You can relax, you know, Suguru?” she said, gesturing to the couch on the other side of the room. 

Suguru looked around, grateful to the alcohol for calming his nerves just enough for him to comply. “Yeah, sure,” he said, sitting next to Satoru on the couch. 

In that lighting, Suguru could see how drunk Satoru was getting. His face was flushed, eyes dilated. 

“I think Satoru should go first,” said a voice from across the couch. Suguru knew that voice. 

“Fine with me,” Satoru said, leaning forward towards the coffee table. 

There were two cups: one red and one black. Suguru watched as Satoru hovered over the black cup, getting confirmation from one of the guys before choosing a name. 

“Who is it?” Bug Boy asked, the words buzzing around Suguru’s head like a swarm of annoying flies. Suguru refused to make eye contact with him, staring at Satoru instead. 

He read out a girl’s name, only for it to fade from Suguru’s mind a second afterwards. At the sound of her name, the girl stood up from beside Bug Boy and walked over to Satoru, holding her hand out to him. 

He smiled and laughed, a light-blue haze glossing over Suguru’s eyes. He followed her to a hall closet and looked back to give Suguru a comforting wink. 

“Tell me when, Hina!” Bug Boy yelled after them. It wasn’t until the door clicked shut did Bug Boy start a timer on his phone, the seconds ticking down from seven minutes on the screen. 

Hina giggled, plopping down next to Suguru on the couch. “Here’s another seltzer,” she said, handing it to Suguru. 

He forced a smile and cracked it open, taking generous gulps. “These are good. How’d you get them?” 

“My brother. He works at a convenience store,” she explained, eye fluttering. “Strawberry’s a good flavor, huh?” 

“It’s Satoru’s favorite too,” he said without much thought, noticing how the room lulled into separate conversations. “Should I go grab him, or?” 

Hina laughed, covering her face with her hand again. “He’ll be back in seven minutes, Suguru. Don’t you know how the game works?” 

Suguru’s head was swimming in a sea of light blue static, pineapple juice, and strawberry lemonade, the words just flowing out of his mouth like waves. “Nope. Satoru’s not in trouble, is he?” he asked, giggling. “Seven minutes is a long time, you know? Like I already kinda miss him-” 

“Suguru?” 

“Yeah?” 

“I can’t believe you’ve never played this before,” Hina said, setting her drink down on the coffee table. “Basically, a guy chooses a random girl’s name from the black cup or a girl chooses a random guy’s name from the red cup and the two of them have to spend exactly seven minutes alone in the hall closet.” 

“Like… the whole time?” 

“Yep. No more, no less.” 

“Well… what’re they supposed to do in there for that long?” Suguru asked, blinking at his dizziness. 

Hina patted him lightly on his thigh and smiled. “That’s for them to know and us to never find out. Unless they choose to tell us, of course.” 

Suguru thought he might tear up. “So they could be… doing whatever?” 

“Exactly,” she said. “They’re probably making out back there. Did you see the way she looked at him?” 

“No, I didn’t,” he said, downing his second seltzer. 

Hina laughed again, the sound a sweet, pastel yellow. It was pleasant. “Well, she seemed super into him. I mean, who wouldn’t be?” 

Suguru's heart pounded, slowed, fluttered, and flipped all at the same time as he began to imagine Satoru alone with that girl. She was probably kissing him, her lips finding the sweet spot on his neck. Her hands guided his hips forward into her own until they were flush against each other, the smell of strawberries lingering between them. He wondered if she could feel the light blue static Suguru felt whenever he touched Satoru. He hoped not. 

“Do you want another drink?” Hina asked, leaning into Suguru’s side. “I have fruit punch too.” 

He nodded, his head almost too heavy for his neck. “Sure.” 

Hina brought him a fruit punch, and even though he wanted the strawberry flavor, he was grateful to be rid of the taste. 

“So, why haven’t you been riding the bus like usual?” she asked. “I’ve missed our awkward silences.” 

Suguru laughed, the sound distant. “Satoru drives me.” 

“Oh… well if you ever decide to ride the bus again, I’ll save your seat, okay?” 

Before Suguru could respond, the timer went off, a harsh beeping coming from Bug Boy’s phone. Suguru’s eyes met his, a hostile, knowing moment passing between them as Hina went to open the closet door. 

Satoru stumbled back to the couch, his cheeks blushed, his lips red, and his hair tangled. The girl followed him, giggling with wrinkled clothes and widened eyes. 

“So, was he as good as everyone says?” Bug Boy asked her, his eyes trained on Suguru. 

“A lady doesn’t kiss and tell,” she responded. Her eyes met Satoru’s as he returned to his place beside Suguru. He hated the desireful look she was giving him, like there was a dirty little secret between them. One that Suguru would never know. 

“That should tell you enough, don’t you think?” Satoru said with an air of arrogance, staring at Bug Boy from behind his seltzer. “She’s speechless.” 

The rest of the group let out a collective breath of amusement. “I think your friend should go next, Satoru,” Bug Boy said, giving Suguru a nod. “He looks like he’s ready for a turn.” 

Satoru looked at Suguru, raising an eyebrow. “Only if you want to, alright?” he said, gesturing toward the black cup of girl’s names. 

Suguru didn’t know why he picked up the cup. To spite Bug Boy? To prove something to himself? To prove something to Satoru? Either way, he chose one off the top, staring in what he assumed was relief at Hina’s name written on a scrap of notebook paper. 

“It’s you, Hina,” Suguru said, showing her the paper. 

She smiled, clapping. “Perfect!” she said, grabbing his hand and leading him to the closet. 

When he stood up, the world spun, hypnotic swirls blending with the hardwood lines of the floor. He looked back at Satoru, earning another suggestive wink, but the gesture did nothing to ease his nerves. The closer he got to the closet, the tighter his chest felt, his ribs constricting tightly around his lungs. 

“Hina?” he asked, suddenly hyper aware of the people watching him. “I’m not so sure-” 

“It’s all good, Suguru. No biggie.” She stopped just outside the closet door, looking over his shoulder to Bug Boy. “Start the timer.” 

“Have fun, Hina,” Bug Boy singsonged. 

Suguru looked back, trying to meet Satoru’s eyes again, but he was turned away, white hair stark against the soft yellow lighting. 

Hina pulled Suguru inside and closed the door behind them. It was suddenly dark, the sound of muffled conversation leaking slightly under the door. 

“You seem nervous,” she said, reaching out to take both his hands. 

“Really?” he asked, hesitant breaths escaping his lips. “I don’t mean to be.” 

There was a small, heavy pause before she asked, “Have you ever kissed anyone before?” 

Suguru could smell the seltzer on her breath when she spoke. “No,” he admitted, focusing on how her thumb rubbed sensual circles over his. It made his explanation catch in his throat. 

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could make out her smile. “I find that hard to believe,” she said, laughing. “You’re very attractive, you know?” 

Her hands were sliding up his arms, over his shoulders, and around his neck, smoothing down his goosebumps. “Really?” he asked, swallowing hard. 

“Yeah, really,” she said, leaning closer. “Can I kiss you, Suguru? I promise I won’t bite… unless you ask.” 

Suguru laughed. “Are you sure you want to kiss me?” he asked, partly wanting her to say no. But then again, it was Hina. She was beautiful, interested in him, and so nice. Too nice. 

“Oh, I’m very sure,” she said through a smile, standing on her tiptoes to face him. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since the first day I saw you on the bus.”

Suguru couldn’t find his breathing, the familiar rhythm his mother had taught him lost in endless waves of nervousness. “Okay,” he whispered, leaning slightly into Hina’s touch. A warm pastel yellow overflowed his senses in response. To his surprise, he enjoyed it. 

“Just relax, Suguru,” she said, smiling against his mouth. “Time is ticking.” 

She kissed him, her lips slotting neatly against his. She hummed and wandered her hands upward to tangle in his hair, fingers lacing within the strands. He moved to hold her back on instinct, placing his hands on her waist. The motion reminded him of Satoru. 

He closed his eyes and kissed her back, the feeling natural and easy. He could taste the fruit punch seltzer and her cherry chapstick as he ran his tongue across her bottom lip. 

She broke away for a split second, only to continue the kiss again, more eager than before. Suguru invited her closer, hooking his fingers through her belt loops. Their hips were flush together as Hina gently pushed him backward into the wall. 

It felt good. Really good. He moaned against her lips, tasting a hint of strawberry as she ran her hands down his chest, holding him there. 

The strawberry taste made his knees weak and his need stronger. He was fixed on it, bursts of light blue infiltrating his mind without warning. He focused on it, pulling it toward himself with desperate grasps. His imagination ran wild with longing, the name on the tip of his tongue. 

Satoru. 

"Satoru,” he gasped, an aching desire poisoning his voice. “Satoru.” 

"Oh fuck," Hina said, backing away. “Did you just…”  

The warmth left him, replaced with a vacant coldness, stealing the blood from his face. “Fuck, Hina,” he said, covering his mouth. “I’m so sorry-” 

Her disappointed laugh cut him off. “Suguru, no need to apologize.” 

“No, I need to. That’s was totally awful, and I’m absolutely mortified right now-” 

“You’re a great kisser,” she interrupted. “Maybe you should kiss the person you actually want to kiss next time, though, alright?” 

Suguru wanted to kill himself. Blow his brains out. Slice his wrists open. Take so many pills, he’d never wake up again-

“Suguru, it’s okay,” she assured, grabbing his shoulders to steady him. “I’m a little disappointed, but honestly, I can’t say I’m surprised-” 

“Please, don’t say that, Hina,” Suguru said, the darkness beginning to spin. “I’m so sorry, okay? That was… fucking terrible.” 

“Suguru, it’s okay! Jeez, calm down,” she said with a sad laugh. “If you want to be with Satoru, you should go for it-”

“I don’t know why I said his name. It just slipped out,” he said, tasting blood in his mouth. His nose was bleeding. Of course it was. 

“Maybe it’s because you-” 

The door opened, a flood of yellow-tinted light illuminating them. 

“Time’s up,” Bug Boy said, motioning for them to leave. 

Suguru didn’t want to leave. He wanted to stay alone in that closet until he died of dehydration or embarrassment, whichever came first. 

“Come on,” Hina said, waving for him to follow. “It’s okay.” 

“Hina, I-” 

“Are you bleeding?” Bug Boy interrupted, eyes widening. “You really gotta get control of that shit, Suguru.” 

If he couldn’t stay in the closet, he’d have to find a way out. He wanted to go. He needed air. He needed to sober up before-

“Suguru, are you alright?” Hina asked again. "You're like… frozen."

“Uh… yeah. I just need some air,” he said, pushing past Bug Boy. He pinched his nose to stop the bleeding as the taste of it slipped through his lips. 

Bug Boy was murmuring something to Hina, but Suguru couldn’t catch it. Peering pairs of eyes turned to find him as he stumbled through the living room and toward the stairwell. He had tunnel vision, trying his best to ignore the spins.

“Sugu!” Satoru shouted, an air of concern in his voice. “What’s going on?” 

Suguru turned around and his eyes met Satoru’s. He let out a shaky breath, blood still dripping from his nose. “I just need some air,” he repeated, not knowing what else to say. 

A part of Suguru wanted Satoru to follow him outside and hold him until the pain in his chest subsided and the nausea passed, rubbing circles over his back and whispering words of comfort in his ear. 

The other, more demanding part was so horrified of Satoru, it could barely stand the thought of him. 

“Come back and find me, okay?” Satoru assured, his eyebrows knitted together. “I can take you home like we talked about-” 

“No,” Suguru insisted, hating the fact that he was making a scene in front of all those people. “I’m fine.”

He left before Satoru or anyone else could say another word. Satoru’s presence was too much for him. It was painful, and the alcohol had melted away any protection he might’ve had against it. 

He stumbled down the stairs, through the crowd, and out the front door. The cool autumn air infiltrated his lungs, clearing his head just enough for him to keep his walk straight. 

Cops 1 and 2 said nothing as he moved past them. He assumed they were scared of the blood. Suguru was grateful once he reached the street, following the familiar turns back to his house alone. 

He almost expected Satoru to run after him. He didn’t.

Chapter Text

Suguru had been tipped over, slipping out everywhere, and he was trying desperately to gather himself together again before he soaked too far into the ground. As he looked at his phone, Satoru’s endless messages glaring up from his screen in blue text bubbles, the guilt tipped him over again, the process repeating itself every few moments. 

The theater was quiet that Sunday morning, and Suguru hated that. He needed the agonizing lull of customer service to distract him from himself… and from Satoru. 

He looked at the texts again. It was like he could hear Satoru reading them aloud: 

Sugu??? 

Where are you? It’s been thirty minutes

I’m sorry I kinda forced you to play the game… I just wanted you to have fun

Call me please

Did you go home by yourself? The guys said they saw you leave

I told you I’d take you home 

Why didn’t you come back to find me??

I went by your house to see if you were okay and I saw your light on

Please call me when you get these messages

Please call me , Suguru repeated in his mind, the sound of Satoru’s voice in his ear as if he were right there whispering it. 

“Get off your phone, Suguru,” his boss shouted, poking her head out from the back door. “I can see you on the camera.” 

He sighed, shoving it in his back pocket. “Sorry.” 

She vanished as quickly as she’d appeared, leaving Suguru alone in the ticket lobby. 

Even though he was extremely hungover, Suguru wished he’d drank enough alcohol to black out, forgetting every last detail of the night before. The conversation about Ghost Boy, dancing with Satoru, touching Satoru with absolutely no shame, kissing Hina only to say Satoru’s name instead… It was all one drunken blur of regret and confusion that Suguru wouldn’t be able to simply push to the back of his mind.

He wanted Satoru. Wanted him in awful, forbidden ways. The wanting swam through his bloodstream, infected his head, filled his lungs, and ached in the pit of his stomach, so much so, he thought he might double over in pain. Just thinking about it made him sweat, his work uniform suddenly too tight around his arms. He pulled at it slightly as he quieted the sound of Satoru’s voice still raging in his mind. Please call me-

His phone buzzed in his back pocket, so he fished it out, his heart seizing when he saw Satoru’s name. Fuck . 

“Hello?” Suguru whispered into the phone, angling himself away from the camera. 

“Thank God you picked up,” Satoru said. “Where the hell are you?” 

Satoru’s voice made Suguru feel light-headed. “Work. It’s Sunday,” he said simply. 

“Oh, right. What time do you get off?” 

“In three hours, why?” 

“I want to see you,” Satoru said, a brief moment of hesitation caught in his words. “You just… disappeared last night, and I had no idea where you went. I promised you I would drive you home if you got uncomfortable, remember? And then you just went off on your own without telling me. You know that I don’t care about some stupid party. I care about you -” 

“I’m sorry, okay?” Suguru interrupted, the guilt spilling him out again. “I didn’t want to ruin it for you.” 

There was an excruciating silence that lasted three of Suguru’s heartbeats before Satoru finally said, “Ruin it for me? Why the fuck would you think that?” 

“What did Hina tell you?” he asked, bracing himself for the worst possible outcome. If Hina had told Satoru, it would all be over. Suguru didn’t know what he would do with himself if-

“She just said you got claustrophobic in the closet and your nose started bleeding, but I don’t buy that. I know you and you’ve never been claustrophobic in your life. Besides, your nosebleed problem has gotten so much worse recently, and I know you only get those if you start feeling extremely anxious-” 

“Satoru,” he said, fighting the forbidden urge to say the name again and again. “Please stop talking about this.” 

Satoru sighed in frustration, and Suguru imagined him clutching the phone closer to his ear and sitting up in his bed, pulling his knees to his chest. “That means we need to talk about it more. ”

“I’m sorry I left the party, okay?” Suguru whispered. “And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I was just drunk and sick, and I kissed Hina in the closet, but I don’t think it went very well-” 

“You kissed her? Really?” 

“Yeah,” Suguru said, the words stuck in his throat. “And I totally fucked it up.” 

“How?” Satoru asked, his voice small and timid. 

“Does it matter?” Suguru asked, his palms starting to sweat. “I just did, okay?” 

Satoru was quiet for a moment, the pause full of hurt. “Okay.” 

“I feel terrible about it,” Suguru said, unable to stop himself from blurting it out. “I feel terrible about Hina and about you -” 

“Me? Why?” 

“I don’t know,” Suguru whispered, tears biting in the corners of his eyes.

“It’s okay, Sugu.” 

Suguru took a deep breath, tightening his grip on the phone. “It’s not okay. I feel like such a bad person.” 

“I don’t understand. What’s making you say all this?” 

“I don’t know,” Suguru said again, the words weighed down with self-hatred. 

Satoru let out a worried sigh, pausing in thought. “How about I pick you up from the theater, so you don’t have to walk home after work, okay? And then we can do something together like watch a movie or go to the lake.” 

Pain shot through Suguru’s chest, so he took another deep breath, trying to calm it down. “Okay.” 

“Okay, great,” Satoru said. “I’ll see you soon, then.” 

Suguru stopped, his mind circulating around one thought. “Satoru?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Don’t you go visit your mom on Sundays?” 

“Yeah, but-” 

“Go see her instead,” Suguru assured. He already felt guilty enough, and this would leave him dry and empty with nothing left to spill. “I’m okay.” 

Satoru was quiet for a moment before he asked, “Why don’t you come with me?” 

“Come with you?” 

“Yeah. It’ll just be an hour or so,” he explained. “Unless of course you don’t want to go-” 

“No, I’ll go,” Suguru said before Satoru could ramble any further. “I’ll go with you.” 

Suguru knew he shouldn't have agreed. He needed to be as far away from Satoru as possible. The fear of doing something else he’d regret should’ve been enough to deter him, but it wasn’t. It wasn’t, because his instinct was to be close to Satoru. There was no way he could change that. 

“Good,” Satoru said, and Suguru could hear his smile. “I’ll see you soon, then.” 

“Okay,” he said, a small smile lifting his lips. 

“Bye, Sugu” Satoru singsonged, light blue waves emitting from the phone speaker. 

“Bye,” he said, trying not to sound as breathless as he was. 

. . .

Suguru waited for Satoru to pick him up on the curb outside the movie theater, the chill of early November seeping through his thin uniform. He’d taken his vest off, staring at “Sugur” printed in crinkled plastic on his name tag. At that point, he was too emotionally attached to get it fixed.

“Don’t you have a jacket?” Satoru asked, rolling down the passenger window as he pulled up to the curb. “You’ll catch a cold.” 

Suguru’s heart melted, puddling around his feet. “I forgot it at home,” he said, giving Satoru a warm smile before getting up to meet him. 

“I missed you,” Satoru said, sighing as Suguru closed the door behind him. 

“You saw me yesterday,” he said. His nerves both calmed and kick-started in pleasant hills and valleys, the smell of artificial strawberries making his mouth water. “It hasn’t even been 24 hours.” 

Satoru started to drive, playing easy rock music on the stereo. “So?” he asked, grinning. “I can still miss you, can’t I?” 

“You can, but it’s completely unwarranted.” 

Satoru laughed, turning out of the parking lot and onto an empty street. After a moment, small snow flurries flew by them, sticking briefly to the windows before departing again with gusts of wind. 

“So, Sugu, about last night-” 

“There’s nothing else to say about it,” Suguru interrupted. “I’d rather just let it be.” 

Satoru sighed, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. “Listen, I’m sure whatever happened between you and Hina isn’t as bad as you think it is. I think you’re blowing it way out of proportion.” 

“I told you I didn’t want to talk about this,” he complained, gluing his eyes to the passing view outside the window. “And it actually is as bad as I think it is. Probably worse.” 

“Hina’s beautiful. It’s normal for guys to get a little… excited if you know what I mean-” 

“Satoru, respectfully, shut the fuck up,” Suguru said, his face flushing. “That wasn’t it.” 

“So it was the opposite scenario then?” Satoru asked. “Was she just not your type?” 

No, she wasn’t his type, and honestly, Suguru didn’t really know what his type was. The only person who made him feel something in that way was… 

“Satoru, I’m a terrible kisser and I ruined it, okay? Can we please just end this here? I’m begging you,” Suguru said, sinking down in his seat. The more Satoru talked to him, the more inclined he was to tell him the truth. The real truth. That possibility was in the negative percent, but he needed to make sure it stayed there. He couldn’t let a moment of fleeting vulnerability turn into friendship-ruining regret. 

“I sincerely doubt you’re a terrible kisser, but I’ll leave it alone for your sake,” Satoru said, turning left at a stoplight. “If you really are terrible though, you can practice on me.” 

“Don’t even go there,” Suguru droned, giving him the side-eye. 

Satoru laughed again, warming Suguru’s blood all the way to his toes. “Just a joke,” he said as they pulled into the hospital parking lot. 

Satoru killed the engine and paused, turning to Suguru with a more serious expression. The car chilled almost immediately with the absence of the heater, snow flurries dusting on the windshield. “I would love for you to come in with me, but I know this isn’t something you’re very comfortable with,” Satoru said, his eyes fixed in the car key in his lap. “So you can stay in the car if you want-” 

“I’ll come with you,” Suguru assured, placing a tentative hand on Satoru’s knee. He flinched, his gaze snapping up to meet Suguru’s. “I want to.” 

“You want to?” 

“I want to,” Suguru repeated, focusing on how, even through his jeans, he could feel Satoru’s body heat on his fingertips. “I want to support you.” 

“It’s not pretty, Sugu,” he said, the breath catching in his chest as he spoke. “She has machines breathing for her, monitors hooked to her chest, needles in her arms. She’s hard to look at.” 

Suguru was stuck on that last sentence. She’s hard to look at. It was difficult to hear a son say that about his mother, much less Satoru saying it about Mai. The words were full of heartbreak, and Suguru was helpless to alleviate it.

“I know. I'll be okay,” Suguru said softly, feeling the need to repeat himself. “I’ll be alright.” 

Satoru paused, staring at Suguru like he would disappear if he looked away. “Okay,” he whispered. “I’ll lead the way then.” 

. . .

Suguru was shivering when they made it to the front desk, but he was too proud to ask Satoru for a jacket. He gravitated close to Satoru partly for his body heat and partly to dampened his nerves as a heavy silence swallowed the hospital lobby. 

Satoru led him to the front desk, passing a fountain, a display of fake plants, and a rack of magazines. 

“I’m here to see my mom,” Satoru said, waving at the front desk nurse. 

She grinned and returned the wave. “Hey, Satoru. Who’s your friend?” she asked, smiling at Suguru. 

“It’s just Suguru,” he explained. “I told you about him, didn’t I?” 

“Right,” she said, gesturing for Suguru to lend her his wrist. “He’s taller than I imagined him.” 

Suguru obliged, watching as she strapped on a visitor's wristband. “You talk about me?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at Satoru. “I don’t know how I feel about that.” 

The nurse smiled, giving Satoru a wristband too. “He only ever has good things to say,” she promised, jotting down their names on a clipboard. 

“Why’re you spilling all my secrets?” Satoru asked with a nervous laugh. “I told you those things in confidence.” 

She only grinned, waving goodbye. “You should get going. I’m sure Mai’s waiting for you,” she said, gesturing down the hall. 

Suguru thanked her before following Satoru deep into the hospital. 

He led them up a stairwell, looking back to make sure Suguru was still there. “I know what you’re thinking, and I don’t wanna hear it,” he said, laughing. “You’re my best friend. It’s only natural that I talk about you to people.” 

“I didn’t realize you felt that way, Satoru,” Suguru teased. 

“Don’t push it,” Satoru warned, stopping on the fourth floor. “I see her almost every evening. You naturally come up in conversation.” 

The nervous knot in Suguru’s chest lessened the longer he talked to Satoru. “You flatter me,” he said as Satoru opened the door, revealing another long, fluorescently-lit hallway. 

Satoru paused. He smiled, but it was full of sadness and anxiety. “Thank you for coming with me, Sugu. I normally go alone, so it’s… less painful now.” 

Suguru wanted to touch Satoru, pull him close to his chest and keep him there. “Of course,” he said, wondering why that was the best thing he could come up with. There was so much he wanted to say, the words hidden behind the swarm of butterflies that lived in his stomach and raged every time Satoru was near

Satoru looked fearfully down the hall, his fingers twitching at his side. “I’m always so nervous beforehand.” 

Suguru lightly touched Satoru’s shoulder, his thumb grazing the skin above his neckline. “I know. I’m sorry.” 

“There you go again with the unnecessary apologies,” Satoru said with a small smile, unconsciously leaning into Suguru’s touch. 

“I’m sorry this is happening to you, Satoru. That’s all I meant by it.” 

Satoru’s bottom lip quivered, but his tears never fell, flooding delicately on his eyelashes. He nodded and stared down at the gray-speckled tiles. “Yeah… you’re right,” he whispered, slowly backing away. “I know that.” 

There was another short pause where Suguru couldn’t figure out what to say. “Let’s go see your mom,” he said eventually. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be alright.” 

Satoru nodded. “Yeah,” he said, blinking the tears from his eyes. “Her room isn't too far down this hallway.” 

Suguru stuck close to Satoru’s side, fighting the urge to touch him again. He rubbed his thumb against his work pants to rid himself of the stinging sensation. 

Satoru stopped just outside room 411, and to Suguru’s surprise, the door and the entire front wall were made of glass. He saw Mai on the hospital bed, her chest rising and falling in a harsh, mechanical rhythm. 

Suguru forced down his apprehension and followed Satoru inside. The hospital smell simultaneously burned his nose and cleared his head as he closed the door softly behind them. 

Satoru had tunnel vision, sitting down in the leather-backed hospital chair next to his mother. He let out a shaky breath, shoulders collapsing inward. 

Suguru walked closer. His eyes darted between the beeping monitors and the dripping IV bags, finally resting hesitantly on Mai. Her eyes were closed, and her body was painfully still aside from loud, labored breaths, the desperate inhales and exhales forced by a machine. Satoru was right. She was hard to look at. 

Suguru’s gaze defaulted to Satoru, forcing his fear deep within himself. He stepped closer to watch him, his legs surprisingly heavy. 

Satoru was holding her hand against his lips and placing light kisses on her knuckles, his eyes tightly closed. Suguru touched Satoru’s shoulders again to calm his subtle shivers. And he messaged his muscles in gentle circles, easing out Satoru’s sorrow if only for a moment.

Chapter Text

The week following Suguru’s visit to the hospital felt wrong, an awful sense of impending doom droning constantly in his ear. And somehow, without him even realizing it, Friday came around again. The first Friday in November was always the first official game of the basketball season. 

In the years prior, Suguru would’ve been so focused on basketball, his potential playing time at the root of all his anxieties, but it was different now. So different, and he couldn’t figure out why he was detached from it. It seemed unimportant, a chore.

“Suguru, what time do you have to be there before the game?” his mother asked, meeting him in the kitchen. “I can finish putting away the dishes if you need me to drive you there now.” 

Suguru sighed, catching a glimpse of the trees from outside the kitchen window. It got dark so early now, and as opposed to the years prior, he was uncomfortable with it. Uncomfortable with the cold, the dark, the wind. It went right through him, heightening his nerves and giving him unpleasant goosebumps. 

“Satoru’s picking me up in thirty minutes or so,” Suguru explained, eyeing the time blinking on the microwave in tense anticipation. 

She nodded, staying unnaturally quiet for a moment. She pursed her lips and started picking at her nails, the soft sound of dry skin making him unreasonably nervous. She only ever did that when she had something important to say, and it was on the tip of her tongue, just waiting to ruin the air between them. 

Suguru stacked another plate in the cabinet and paused, panic gripping his throat. “Mom, is something wrong?” he dared to ask, turning around to face her. He grabbed the edge of the counter and dug it into his palm, grounding himself with the dull pain. 

“I just… wanted to ask you about something.” 

He hummed in acknowledgment, his mind ravaging every possible question she could’ve asked. From his dropping grades to his tentative playing time to his inability to do much besides rot in his room and hang out with Satoru, he had plenty of ideas as to what she could ask. 

She hesitated, making him even more nervous. “About last weekend, I asked one of the other moms how the basketball Halloween thing went, and she said there wasn’t-” 

“Why does this matter?” Suguru asked, his heart roaring in his ears. He resorted to interrupting her in his panic, regretting it almost instantly. This was the last thing he had the energy to talk about with her. He had shoved the feelings from Halloween night farther into himself, hoping to rebury them as soon as possible, but there they were again, unearthed and angry. 

She sighed, continuing to pick at her nails. “Because you lied to me-” 

“What do you want me to say?” he asked, the previous regret not stopping him from doing it again. 

“I want you to tell me the truth, Suguru,” she said sternly, her eyes narrowing. “And I want you to tell me why you decided to lie about it.” 

His grip on the edge of the counter was becoming increasingly painful, a red imprint pressing deep into his palm. “I was with Satoru. That’s all you need to know.” 

“I don’t want to have this conversation with you again,” she said, taking a step closer. If he wasn’t already against the counter, he would’ve backed away. “Tell me where you were.” 

“No,” Suguru said simply, the word venomous on his tongue. 

His mother shook her head in disbelief, her neck getting red. “Yes, you will. I am your mother. You live here with Ren and me, so you will answer my questions when I ask you-” 

“I’m not telling you,” he interrupted yet again, letting the anger flow through him. It bubbled in his chest, searing his insides and filling his lungs. “Don’t you get it? I don’t want you to know, so I’m not telling you.” 

“Suguru, I don’t want to punish you, but I will if I have to,” she half-shouted, but her eyes betrayed her. She was hurt, but Suguru couldn’t find it in himself to care. 

“Punish me?” he asked, appalled. All logic was burning away, and despite ugly, reminiscent feelings from the last time they had fought, he couldn’t stop it from controlling him. “ Right. ” 

“Just tell me where you were,” she tried to reason. “That’s all-” 

“I already fucking explained this,” he said, his voice rising. “I’m not telling you. Why is that so hard for you to understand?” 

He tried to stop it, rein it in, suffocate it, do something to calm it down, every attempt fizzling to nothing. He didn’t know why his mother was always the target of his rage, because it was never her that actually upset him. It was Bug Boy. It was Ren. It was Mai. It was Hina. It was Satoru-

“Suguru, please don’t curse at me,” she said, the hurt more obvious now. “I’m just worried about you. That’s all it is, okay?” 

“And I’ve told you a thousand times not to worry about me,” he snapped. “I can take care of myself.” 

“I don’t think so,” she said blatantly, catching Suguru off guard. “I don’t think you can take care of yourself. Especially when you start acting like this.” 

“ Fuck , why are you doing this?” Suguru asked, a sharp pain lodged in his throat. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the edge of the counter, so he forced his hand loose, digging his blunt nails into his palm instead. 

“What is wrong with you?” she asked, her face a bright shade of red. Tears were forming in the corners of her eyes, but Suguru ignored them. “Sometimes, I hardly recognize you.” 

“I’m done with this conversation,” he said, spinning around to face the dishwasher again. He picked up the silverware holder and banged it on the counter, the sound of clanging metal echoing through the kitchen. 

“Were you at a party or something?” she asked, ignoring his outburst. “Getting drunk? Doing drugs?” 

Suguru snorted as he picked up the forks, a stack of them in his hand. “I told you I was done with this.”

“Just tell me-” 

“No! God, just fucking stop,” he said, placing the forks in the drawer and slamming it shut. “I’m so sick of you-” 

It took a brief moment for Suguru to register what he’d done, pain killing the words in his throat and forcing them down into his stomach. “Fuck!” he shouted, the image of his fingers lodged in the drawer blurring and shifting. An agonizing sharpness shot up his arm, blaring loudly in his ears. 

“What happened?” she asked, her hands touching his shoulders. 

He flinched away, still cursing. His fingers were bleeding at the knuckles, bright streams of blood coloring his nails. Suguru had never been good with blood, and when he saw it, the lightheadedness creeped up behind his eyes. “ Fuck ,” he said again, trying to catch his breath. His fingers swelled almost immediately, inflaming around his bones. 

His mother grabbed his wrist and placed a towel over the blood. “Just calm down, Suguru,” she said, redness seeping through the fabric. 

She took the towel away, examining him. All four of his fingers were turning purple, blood still oozing slowing down his knuckles. “I think they’re broken,” she said, looking at him with unfiltered disappointment. “I’ll take you to the emergency room, alright? The sooner the better.” 

Suguru’s rage died from the pain, its corpse pulling his heart down into the pit of his stomach and trapping it there. “I can’t go to the hospital,” he whispered, afraid to speak out loud. “Satoru will be here in a few minutes-” 

“Your hand is broken,” she said, tightening her grip on his wrist. “I don’t think you’re gonna be playing basketball any time soon.” 

“It’s not about that.” 

“Then what’s it about?” she asked. 

Suguru could hear Ren’s heavy footsteps coming down the stairs and braced himself for the angered looks and hateful words. 

“I don’t know,” he whispered, refusing to acknowledge Ren's presence. But he could feel it as his sharpened eyes glared from the stairwell. 

“Suguru, I’ll drive you to the hospital. Just text Satoru and tell him you can’t be there. I’ll talk to your coach and explain to him.” 

“Okay,” he said, caving in on himself. Shame was worse than rage, more dominant too. It took away his words, shrinking him down to nothing. The only thing occupying his mind more was the soreness in his hand. It throbbed, the ache spreading up his arm with each pulse. He tried to move his fingers, but the swelling prevented him. 

“Lisa, what’s going on?” Ren asked with an air of seriousness. He seemed fed up, and Suguru couldn’t blame him. “I heard yelling.” 

“Suguru smashed his hand in the drawer,” she explained. “I think his fingers are broken.” 

Ren approached, his cheap cologne filling Suguru’s nose. He held his hand out, motioning with his fingers. “Let me see.” 

Suguru reluctantly gave him his hand, wincing when Ren’s thumb grazed his knuckles. “Why were you slamming things?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “It takes a lot of strength to break all four of your fingers.” 

Suguru pulled his hand away and held it close to his chest. “I was upset,” he murmured, eyes glued to the tiles. He couldn’t find it in himself to look at Ren or his mother. 

“About what?” Ren asked, not bothering to adjust his tone. 

“It doesn’t matter now.” 

Ren huffed in frustration, obviously getting more and more impatient. “Your hand is broken and your mother has tears in her eyes, so I’m inclined to disagree.” 

“Ren, I’m taking him to the emergency room. We can talk about this later-”  

“No, I think we should talk about this now instead of shoving it under the rug like always,” he said before turning back to Suguru. “So what made you so angry you broke your own hand, Suguru?” 

His mother quieted, wringing her hands together. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment to compose herself. 

“I lied to her, and she confronted me about it. That’s all.” 

“So you were off doing who knows what last weekend,” he said, laughing slightly. “You’re always lying, sneaking out, failing school-” 

“Ren, that’s enough,” she said, placing a tentative hand on his shoulder. “He’s just stressed out-” 

“That’s no excuse for him to act like a piece of shit,” Ren said, maintaining eye contact with Suguru. “He’s been like this for the past year. Always holed up in his room, blowing us off, breaking the rules. The only person he seems to care about is Satoru-” 

“Please, stop,” Suguru whispered. “I can’t do this.” 

“The things you say and do affect other people,” Ren continued, ignoring Suguru’s pleas. “I’m tired of walking on eggshells around you. Always wondering if today will be the day you completely lose your mind.” 

Suguru wasn’t sure what to say. He wanted to be angry, lash out at Ren, break all the fingers on his other hand, but he simply didn’t have the energy. 

“Nothing?” Ren asked, grabbing Suguru’s jaw and tilting it upward. “No smartass remark? No temper tantrum?” 

“Ren, please let me take him to the hospital. He needs to get his hand looked at-” 

“Just one more thing,” Ren assured, tightening his grip on Suguru’s jaw. “If you curse at your mother again, you’re not gonna like what happens next. Got that?” 

Suguru’s stomach lurched, and he felt like crying, screaming, ripping out his hair until all the strands were matted together on the tiled kitchen floor. 

“Yes,” he finally managed. 

Ren nodded to his mother before going back upstairs, his footsteps heavier than before.  

. . .

Suguru sat in the same hospital he’d been in with Satoru the weekend before, but it felt different this time. Worse . 

“You slammed your hand in a drawer?” the nurse asked, eyes widening as she examined him. “What’d it do to deserve that?” 

Suguru smiled, the joke lessening the tension in his chest. “If you think this is bad, you see the drawer.” 

She grinned, her next comment interrupted by the doctor and Suguru’s mother. They both walked in with solemn looks and a file of x-rays. 

It wasn’t hard to see the separation between the bones, Suguru’s pain reflected back at him in black and white photographs. The doctor explained that it would take at least six weeks to heal, and he’d need to wear a cast. 

The words went through one ear and out the other as the previous conversation with Ren played in an unforgiving loop, each time worse than the last. He simply stared at the sterile wall, letting his mother ask the questions. He needed to apologize to her soon. He supposed he needed to do a lot of things. 

“I’ll go grab your discharge papers,” the nurse said, following the doctor out of the room. 

After a moment, his mother turned to him, her lips in a straight line. “Suguru, I’m sorry.” 

His head snapped up and his chest tightened, stealing his breath. “Why?” he asked. 

“It’s my fault you broke your hand.” 

Suguru let out a shuddering breath, staring at bandages holding his fingers together. “No, it isn’t.” 

“I upset you,” she said, tentatively placing her hand on his forearm. “I shouldn’t have pushed it as far as I did-” 

“Mom, please don’t say that. You’ll just make me feel worse,” he half-whispered, too exhausted to speak out loud. “It’s not your fault. You and I both know that.”  

She paused and brought her hands back to herself. “It’s my fault and your fault. I’m not blameless.” 

Suguru was silent for a moment, debating what to say next. There were moments he was blinded by his anger, the rising waves of it peaking when he knew the consequences wouldn’t matter. She was his mother. She was required to love him, so he blew up at her because he knew she would always forgive him. And he exploited it, using her to release the awful pressure in his chest. It wasn’t fair to her.  

“I’m sorry,” he said, forcing himself to meet her eyes. “I feel… horrible about it.” 

“I know,” she said, smiling sadly. “I know that.” 

Suguru returned the smile, willing his tears to dry. “Can you forgive me?” 

“I’ll always forgive you,” she said, confirming what Suguru already knew. It broke his heart. 

He nodded as a knowing silence fell between them, filled only by the sound of the heater and the bustle from outside. 

After a moment, she asked, “Did you tell Satoru?” 

“I told him I broke my hand and was stuck at the ER,” he explained. “He sent me back a slew of expletives and frowning emoticons.” 

She grinned. “Sounds like something he would do.” 

Suguru thought he was only imagining the sound of Satoru’s voice from outside. He often daydreamed about him, hearing his voice at impossible times, but when his mother’s face perked up at the sound, he knew it must’ve been real. 

“Is that Satoru?” she asked, laughing softly. “It sounds a lot like him.” 

Suguru strained his ears to listen, rolling his eyes fondly as Satoru’s light blue laughter echoed down the hallway. 

“So he’s down that way?” Satoru asked, obviously flirting with the nurses. “On the left?” 

He must’ve gotten confirmation because within moments, his white hair darted into the room, a sweet smile on his face and a bouquet of flowers in his hand. 

“Sugu, what the hell happened to you?” he asked, sitting on the corner of the hospital bed. 

Suguru liked the way the mattress dipped in response to his body weight, Satoru’s hand inches from his knee. “I slammed my fingers in the silverware drawer,” he explained, his shoulders dropping slightly. 

Satoru cringed, eyeing his bandages. “Does it hurt?” 

Suguru deadpanned. “No. It’s never felt better.” 

“No need to be all smart,” Satoru said, turning his attention to Suguru’s mother. “How are you, Lisa?” 

She smiled, eyes lighting up. “Better than Suguru.” 

Satoru laughed, the sound filling the room like a sea of warm water. “I feel like that doesn’t take much.” 

Suguru glared. “Did you come here to antagonize me?” 

Satoru shook his head, turning his attention to the bouquet of flowers. “I thought I’d visit my mom after the game since there’s still a few minutes of visiting hours left,” he said, picking out a single white daisy. “These are for her room, but you can have this one.” He placed it behind Suguru’s ear and grinned. 

Suguru’s face softened. “You’ve healed me,” he joked, the subtle floral scent filling his nose  

Satoru smiled again, his blue eyes crinkling at the edges. “We won by the way.” 

“No thanks to me.” 

He shrugged, admiring the flower in Suguru’s hair. “You were supporting us in spirit,” he said, pausing for a second. “I missed you being there.” 

Suguru’s blood warmed, tingling all the way to his toes. “Will I see you tomorrow?” he asked. 

“I’ll be over for dinner,” Satoru confirmed, getting up to leave. “Steer clear of drawers, doors, cabinets, and the like, okay? Can’t have both your hands out of commission.” 

Suguru nodded, watching as Satoru disappeared back into the hallway. 

“He really cares for you, doesn’t he?” his mom asked, taking the flower out of his hair to smell it. 

Suguru shrugged. “It’s always been this way.” 

She grinned. “Has it?” 

“As long as I care to remember.”

Chapter Text

Mimi died, and Suguru took it much harder than he expected. She was only a cat after all. Why did he have to care so much? 

Suguru found her under his bed that morning. He knew she would die soon, but he was still emotionally unprepared. As he stood by his mother's flower bed full of dead weeds, now Mimi's grave, he couldn't stop himself from crying. It surprised him, the emotions sneaking up in quiet whispers. It started with slow, silent tears freezing on his cheeks, but after a few moments of standing alone, quiet sobs shook his shoulders. He hadn't realized how much he cared for Mimi until she was no longer there for him to care for, and he felt stupid being upset about it. 

"Sugu?" 

He spun around, tear-filled eyes meeting Satoru's. "Hey," he said, wiping furiously at his eyes. For some reason, he didn’t want Satoru to see him cry. 

“What happened?” he asked, wrapping an arm around Suguru’s shoulders. 

"She just got too old, I think."

Satoru nodded, rubbing up and down Suguru’s arm in a gentle rhythm, so he leaned into him, escaping the chill of late-November. The sky was gray with the promise of snow, and Suguru waited for it, the anticipation making his knees lock. 

"I brought flowers," Satoru said eventually, lifting a pitiful bouquet of white and yellow blooms with his other hand. "It was all they had at the supermarket, but they’ll do.” 

"They're perfect," Suguru said, smiling. "You didn’t have to do that, though. She was just a cat." 

Satoru placed them in the flowerbed next to the designated Mimi rock. "But she was your cat. I know she meant a lot to you.”

"I'll live,” he said, lip trembling. 

Satoru turned toward him. "It's not that simple, you know?"

Suguru hummed, encouraging him to continue. He loved hearing Satoru talk because he always knew the right things to say. He couldn’t help but envy him over it. 

"I know she's just your cat, but… she was important," he said. "You'll never be able to forget her. There's meaning in that." 

Those words soaked into him, easing his nerves. "I took care of her everyday," he said, rubbing his hands together for warmth. "And most times, it felt like I was the only one she could recognize." 

"She could recognize me," Satoru said, smiling. "She ran away every time she sensed my presence." 

Suguru laughed and grabbed Satoru's arm, pulling him toward the neglected swing set. "I don't know why she always did that," he admitted.

"Probably because I'm loud and obnoxious," Satoru said, grinning. 

"Yeah, probably." 

They sat on their respective sides of the swings, the familiar creaks calming Suguru down even more. He recalled the last time they’d been in that spot, swinging back and forth on a Saturday morning in late-August. 

"I've been thinking," Satoru said. "About what I'm going to do after my mom dies."

Suguru was quiet as snow flurries started to fall. 

"I want to stay with you. I want us to go to college together after graduation… or not go. It really doesn't matter to me. I just… want to be where you are." 

Suguru thawed and froze over in quick, anxious cycles, his mind not knowing what to think. 

"Sorry," Satoru said nervously. "That was a little heavy-"

"No, I would love that," Suguru interrupted, realizing he had a bad habit of waiting too long to respond, especially when it really mattered. "That's what I want too."

"Really?" Satoru asked, smiling. “I’m glad.” 

Suguru's chest clenched with validation. He fought the urge to pull Satoru into an embrace and breathe in his strawberry smell until he couldn’t stand it anymore. His imagination ran wild, plaguing him with Satoru’s phantom caresses. 

“Imagine us living together,” Suguru mused. “ Roommates. ”

Satoru smiled, seeming to enjoy the idea. “I’d love to see you all domesticated.” 

“I’m not a wild animal.” 

“You know what I mean,” he said, laughing. “I’d like to see you cook, clean, be a housewife, all that stuff.” 

Suguru glared, instantly annoyed. “I’m not your housewife.”

“You could be.” 

“We will be dividing chores equally between us, and I don’t know how to cook. We both know this.” 

Satoru smiled, still swinging back and forth. “Yeah, you’d probably burn our apartment down.” 

“I wonder how much the rent would go up if I did.” 

“There wouldn’t be an apartment to pay rent for anymore,” Satoru said, laughing. 

Suguru smiled. Minus the hypothetical fire, he enjoyed this conversation even though it scared him. There was comfort in Satoru, in knowing he would stay, not because he had to, but because he wanted to. 

“Are you serious?” Suguru asked, heart starting to race. “About staying together after graduation?” 

"You're one of the only people I’ll ever need, Sugu,” Satoru admitted. “Of course, I’m serious.” 

Suguru smiled. "Who are the others?" 

"It's you, my mom, and my grandpa, and I doubt I have much time left with either of them,” Satoru said. “I’m just trying to be realistic.” 

Suguru's heart sank and a sharp pain lodged in his throat. He wanted to know exactly what to say, to be able to string together the words Satoru needed to hear, but nothing was ever good enough. He said the only thing he could think of, but it still didn’t feel like enough. “You got me… As long as you want me.” 

Satoru paused, his face softening. “I’ll always want you.” 

“Really?” he asked, a familiar warmth flushing his face. 

“Can’t you tell?” Satoru asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Tell what?” 

Satoru laughed to himself, staring at the frozen grass. “Nothing.” 

“I hate it when you’re cryptic.” 

Satoru laughed again and tilted his head up toward the snow-heavy clouds. “I’m never cryptic, Sugu. You’re just dumb.” 

“Now you’re being mean.” 

“I’d never be mean to you,” he said, glancing over. 

Suguru smiled, his tears forgotten. It was starting to snow, and Satoru’s hair blended beautifully with it. Suguru watched him on the swings, butterflies swarming in his stomach. He wished it didn’t feel as good as it did. 

“Will you ever get another cat?” Satoru asked after a moment, holding his hand out to catch snowflakes. 

Suguru shrugged. “Mimi is irreplaceable.” 

He nodded, giving Suguru a sad smile. “When you’re ready, tell me, so I can get you a kitten as a surprise.” 

“If I know it’s happening, is it really a surprise?” 

“Don’t look too far into the logistics, okay?” Satoru said. “It’s a surprise if I say so.” 

Suguru nodded, smiling to himself. “Thanks for being here,” he said, his fingers twitching with nervousness. “I feel much better now.” 

Satoru turned to face him, blue eyes softening. “You’re my best friend,” he said. “I wanted to be here.” 

Suguru melted despite the snow, heat flushing his cheeks. “I wish Mimi would’ve given you a chance,” he said, grinning. 

Satoru laughed. “She was probably jealous of me. I stole you from her a lot of the time.” 

“Mimi wasn’t the jealous type.” 

“I would’ve been if I were her.” 

Suguru smiled, snow covering his hair. “You’re the jealous type?” 

“Oh, yeah,” he said. “Sometimes, I’m glad it’s just us. I want you all to myself.” 

Suguru was always glad it was just them. Satoru was the only person he wanted to spend his time with, the only person he felt understood him as he was.

. . .

The Sunday after Mimi’s funeral, Suguru realized he was behind on his school work. He didn’t know how it had gotten so bad, it just… had. In an effort to hold himself accountable, he invited Satoru to come study with him in academic-filled silence. 

Satoru had been sitting on Suguru’s floor for the past few hours, his face strained in confusion as he did his homework. Suguru recognized the worksheet. If he remembered correctly, it had been due the week before. 

Suguru sat on the floor beside him, paying more attention to Satoru than his own work. He watched as he chewed absentmindedly on the end of his pencil. His white bangs were starting to grow over his eyes, and Suguru fought the urge to push them back. 

“Satoru?” 

His head snapped up, blue eyes widening then softening at the sound of his name. “Sugu?” 

“Let’s take a break,” he said, uncrossing his legs. “My homework is floating off the page.” 

Satoru smiled. “What do you wanna do?” 

He shrugged, looking out the window at the 8pm darkness. Summer had been dead for months, but that didn't stop Suguru from missing it as early darkness waned over them. It was so unlike him to miss summer, and he wondered why he was doing it now. 

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Talk?” 

Satoru closed his textbook and shuffled closer, both of their backs resting against the side of Suguru’s bed. “About what?” he asked through a grin. 

“Let’s play a game,” Suguru suggested. His face fell a bit when he caught himself looking for Mimi, only to realize she wouldn’t be there to run from Satoru anymore. He quickly shook it off, determined to keep it hidden from him. 

“What number am I thinking of?” 

“No, I hate that one,” Suguru complained, placing his casted hand in his lap. His gaze traced over Satoru’s lone signature written in Sharpie across his knuckles. “You always pick 69, and it’s too easy.” 

“Yeah… And I was gonna do it again too,” Satoru said, leaning his head against the bed. Suguru watched his neck stretch, the muscles straining under his skin. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, lips parting in thought, and his brow furrowed, cycling through his mental collection of stupid games. 

“Okay, I got one,” he said suddenly, sitting up again. “If you were just now meeting me today, what would you do?” 

Suguru pursed his lips. “I don’t know.” 

“Just think about it,” Satoru said, pulling his knees close to his chest. “Pretend I just moved to North High and sat next to you in class. What would you say to me?” 

Suguru paused for a second. “Probably nothing.” 

“What?!” Satoru exclaimed. “Why?” 

Suguru shrugged. “It’s hard for me to talk to new people.” 

“But I’m me ,” Satoru said, gesturing to himself. “I’m a great friend.” 

“How am I supposed to know that?” 

Satoru frowned. “Hmm, I guess you’re right.” 

“If I was just now meeting you, I’d be too afraid to talk to you, and we’d most likely never speak.” 

“But I’d talk to you .” 

“Really?” Suguru asked, stifling a laugh. “Why would you do that?”

Satoru gave him a side-eye. “Sugu, I think you have a bad habit of underestimating yourself,” he said. “You’re literally gorgeous.”  

“My whole persona is the mysterious, quiet guy,” Suguru said, blushing. “I can’t go around talking to random people.” 

Satoru gaped, leaning closer to Suguru. “I am not some ‘random person’ as you so eloquently put it.” 

“See, you’re missing the point,” Suguru said, laughing. “You would be, though… At least to the me that just met you.” 

“I can’t believe you would ignore my existence,” Satoru complained, staring up at the ceiling fan in a state of grief. “You wound me.” 

“It’s not that,” Suguru said. “I don’t think I’d have the courage to talk to you. I’d want to, but I don’t think I ever could.” 

"I hate that, Sugu. I hate the idea that we would never speak."

Suguru nodded. He thought he might’ve hated it as much as Satoru, probably more. 

"Since our hypothetical meeting hinges on you making the first move, what would you say to me?" 

Satoru’s face softened, his gaze still on the ceiling. “I would ask to touch your hair, I think,” he said, laughing to himself. 

Suguru rolled his eyes. “You would not .” 

“I totally would.” 

“Why?” Suguru asked, eyebrows raising. “Imagine how awkward that would be.” 

“I don’t care,” Satoru admitted, lazily looking over. “I’d still do it.” 

“You never ask to touch my hair now . Why would you be brave enough to ask during our first meeting?” 

Satoru shrugged. “Because… I wouldn’t know to be afraid of your stupid overreactions.” 

Suguru laughed, glancing over at him. He was blushing, rosy static spreading across his cheeks. “Do you want to try braiding my hair?” Suguru asked before he even had the chance to think about it. At the question, his stomach squirmed and his nerves sparked, warming his whole body. 

Satoru’s eyes widened in shock. “Whaaaaaat?” he asked, his torso turning towards Suguru. “That’s so erotic, Sugu. I didn’t know you had this side of you.” 

“Oh, shut up. It’s not like that, okay?” Suguru said, laughing. 

“Just bros playing with each other’s hair. Totally not homoerotic at all.” 

Suguru groaned, undoing the knot he’d worn all day with his good hand. “It’s only homoerotic if you make it that way, and besides, you’re the one who brought it up.” 

“I’m definitely making it that way,” Satoru joked, his eyes trained on Suguru’s fingers as he played with the elastic tie. “And I’m so glad I brought it up.” 

“Pretend we’re little girls at a sleepover or something,” Suguru suggested, sitting cross-legged in front of Satoru. “That should keep the forbidden thoughts out of your head.” 

“What’s with you and that saying?” he asked, running his hands through Suguru’s hair. “You’ve said it a couple times before. Like… at the Halloween party.” 

Every time Suguru thought about the Halloween party, he had to actively force himself to stop. “I don’t know,” he said. “Sometimes I think about things I shouldn’t, and that’s just what I call it.” 

Satoru sighed as a brief, thought-filled silence settled over them. “No matter what I do, the forbidden thoughts are always in my head these days, Sugu,” he said softly. “I feel like I should tell you that.” 

“What kinds of thoughts?” he dared to ask, his heart pounding. 

Satoru kept combing Suguru's hair with his fingers, tugging it a little at the roots. The motion made Suguru sigh and drop his shoulders as the tension eased out of him. 

“When you breathe like that, the forbidden thoughts get louder, just so you know,” Satoru whispered, ignoring the initial question. Even though Suguru couldn’t see his face, he could tell Satoru was smiling. 

“How else am I supposed to breathe?” Suguru asked, unconsciously leaning into Satoru’s touch. His heartbeat roared loudly, and he couldn’t concentrate. His need for Satoru stirred in the pit of his stomach, shooting through his veins. His foot twitched with it. 

“I don’t know… maybe a little less provocatively,” he said, lazily dividing Suguru’s hair into three sections.

“You’re ridiculous,” he said, wondering if he sounded as desperate as he felt. His foot twitched again, then his fingers. He clenched his jaw, the discomfort distracting him.  

There was a small silence filled with Suguru’s scarce breaths, clinks from the ceiling fan, and the soft sound of hands running through long, black strands. Suguru allowed himself to entertain his forbidden thoughts, imagining Satoru touching him more. Touching him where he wanted to be touched. Warm breath on his neck, Eager hands around his waist. Soft lips against his ear. Light blue flooding and draining and lighting and extinguishing, mixing itself in his blood-

“Sugu, what shampoo do you use?”

“Green apple. Why?” Suguru asked, forcing his jaw to come apart. The question brought him back to himself, an ugly shame lodging in his throat.

“It smells really nice,” Satoru said, a smile in his voice. 

Suguru sighed, closing his eyes as the compliment washed over him like honey, sweet and warm. It forced the shame away for the time being. “Thank you,” he whispered. 

“You’re welcome, Sugu,” Satoru said with a laugh, tying the braid off at the end. “All done.” He placed his hands on Suguru’s shoulders, slightly messaging them. “Forget basketball. I should pursue cosmetology.” 

“I didn’t realize you could braid,” Suguru said, not ready to meet Satoru’s eyes. “Where did you learn?” 

“I taught myself,” he admitted. “I used to braid my mom’s when she was too sick to do it herself.” 

Suguru sighed, a deepening sadness weighing on him at the mention of Mai. He was about to answer, but Satoru’s thumbs pressed lightly over his muscles and the words got lost. 

“Sugu?” 

“Yeah?” he asked, feeling how hot Satoru’s hands were through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. The need for him returned, falling into him like drops of red ink. 

“You’re doing that breathing thing again, and I’m gonna need you to tone it down,” he said with a nervous laugh, digging his thumbs in a little harder. 

Suguru smiled through his nerves. “Don’t breathe around Satoru. Noted.” 

He sighed, resting his forehead against Suguru’s back. “I love that green apple shampoo. Never switch, okay?” 

“Okay,” Suguru whispered, his eyes widening when Satoru wrapped his arms around him from behind. If he focused hard enough, he could feel Satoru’s heartbeat through his back.

“You’re hugging me,” Suguru said, grinning as Satoru tightened his grip. “Did the forbidden thoughts win today?” 

“If hugging you is a forbidden thought, I don’t want to know what my other thoughts are,” he said, lacing his fingers around Suguru’s waist and holding him there. 

Those words made Suguru’s heart plummet, free-falling straight through the floor. “I won’t ask what that means,” he said, careful not to let his emotions show in his voice. There were so many of them, mixing and separating in a rapid, overwhelming daze. 

“You’re smart, Sugu. You can figure it out on your own.”

Chapter Text

Satoru turned 18, and the longer Suguru stared at him, the less he could accept it. He couldn’t believe so many years had passed between them, and not only that, he couldn’t believe it was December already. 

“Why are you staring at me?” Satoru asked. “You’re distracting the driver.” 

Suguru smiled, turning back toward the windshield. “I was just thinking about how old you’re getting.” 

“You’re not too far behind, you know?” 

A soft moment passed between them, Satoru’s current hyperfixation songs cycling through in the background. “I guess you’re right,” Suguru said, frowning at how close February was to December. He would be 18 soon enough, the realization weighing on him with foreign bittersweetness. 

“I visited my mom with my grandpa this morning, so I allotted the rest of the evening to you,” Satoru said, smiling at the annoyed look on Suguru’s face. 

Even though he’d suffered through the entire school day without Satoru, Suguru was happy he’d spent time with his family. He seemed relieved, shoulders relaxed, eyes soft, lips upturned, and it rubbed off on Suguru, a gentle ease washing over him. 

“So, Sugu,” Satoru mused, glancing down at the floorboard. “Is that present for me?” 

Suguru nodded, hiding the gift bag with his leg. “Yes, but you can open it later.” 

“You mean now?” 

Suguru rolled his eyes. “When we get inside.” 

“As soon as we get inside?” 

“Maybe give it an hour or so.” 

Satoru laughed, moving his hands up and down the steering wheel. “Why are you so disagreeable?” 

Suguru rolled his eyes again. “It’s not even that big of a deal.” 

“You got it for me. Therefore, it is a big deal.” 

“Once we get to the arcade, you’ll forget about it anyway.” 

“That’s not true,” Satoru said, laughing as they pulled into the parking lot. “And also, I know you hate crowds, but you’re just going to have to endure it for today, alright?” 

“I don’t hate crowds,” Suguru reasoned. “I… dislike them to a great extent.” 

“You just defined ‘hate’ straight out of the dictionary, Sugu.”

“Okay, maybe I do hate crowds,” Suguru said, opening the car door. “But it’s your birthday, so I really shouldn’t complain.” 

“You’ll have fun,” Satoru assured. “Trust me.” 

“I’ll have as much fun as possible with only one hand,” he said, tucking Satoru’s present under his arm as they made their way inside. 

Satoru grinned, eyeing his cast. “You really only need one hand to beat me at all the games.” 

“You’re not wrong.” 

Satoru held the door, motioning him inside. “You’re really hot when you’re confident.” 

“Don’t start that crap.” 

They laughed together, walking shoulder-to-shoulder through the arcade lobby. 

The first thing Satoru did when they made it to the front desk was order a pepperoni pizza and pick out a booth in the far corner of the dining area. Suguru was too distracted to follow him immediately. The place was crowded, but it wasn’t too bad. The black lights and LEDs reminded him of 13th street but in a good way as he slowly walked to their booth. 

After a moment, Satoru asked, “Have you ever been here?” 

“No,” Suguru said, still marveling at the lights. “My parents are the ‘make your own fun’ kind of people.” 

Satoru nodded, seeming to understand. “I was invited to some kid’s birthday party back in elementary school, and I remembered loving it.” 

Suguru laughed. “‘Some kid?’” 

“It was elementary school,” Satoru complained. “Besides, you’re the last person who should be critiquing me on my ability to remember names.”

“That’s fair.” 

Satoru smiled, eyes scanning the room. “Once we eat our pizza, I challenge you to a game of bowling.” 

“Sounds lame.” 

Satoru gaped. “Bowling is for sophisticated people. If you don’t qualify, I’ll find cooler friends to spend my birthday with.” 

“So you’re the bowling expert now?” 

“Is this your way of accepting my challenge?” Satoru asked, grinning.

Suguru rolled his eyes, unable to stop himself from smiling. His gaze met Satoru’s as a subtle tenseness passed between them. It made Suguru’s stomach squirm and his hands sweat, and he found it impossible to stop fidgeting. 

“I guess it is,” he said, grateful for the arrival of their pizza. He swallowed the lump in his throat, forcing it down with a sip of his semi-flat Sprite. 

“It’s only friendly competition, Sugu,” he said, looking over his own glass of Sprite. “And it’s my birthday, so you better let me win.” 

“ Right ,” Suguru said, smiling. “Let’s see how well your basketball skills translate to the bowling alley.” 

“I’m sure they’ll translate perfectly.” 

. . .

Satoru’s basketball skills did not translate well to the bowling alley. In fact, they had to put up the bumpers to protect Satoru’s bowling ball from the gutters. 

“Don’t say a word,” Satoru said, covering his face with his hands as he sat next to Suguru on the bench, the final score blinking on the overhead monitor. “Bowling is hard.”

“Bowling really isn’t that difficult. I think you just suck.” 

Satoru laughed, peering out from between his fingers. “You’re always so nice, aren’t you?” 

He laughed too, wondering if Satoru still saw scarlet like Suguru saw light blue. He often thought about their conversation from the pond, replaying it whenever he felt insecure. “I’m sorry, but it’s the truth. I have one working hand, and I still beat you.” 

“I’m over bowling,” he groaned. “You win.” 

“Yes, I do,” Suguru said, jumping up from the bench. “Let’s play arcade games now.” 

Satoru sighed as Suguru helped him up. “You should go easy on me."

“I doubt I’ll need to,” Suguru said. “You’re naturally good at everything… except bowling apparently.” 

“Yeah, except bowling.”

The sound of toppling bowling pins, electronic music, and gaming chimes overwhelmed Suguru as he led Satoru to the basketball shooting game.

“Now you can win all you want,” he said, motioning with his hand. 

Satoru grinned. “You’ll still beat me.” 

“Don’t insult me,” Suguru said, laughing as the basketballs rolled down the ramp. 

The timer started again and again, Satoru’s smile widening each time they restarted the game. He won every time, as Suguru expected, but that didn’t bother him at all. Satoru was a natural talent. So much so, Suguru wondered why he even wasted the majority of his time practicing. 

Finally, after Satoru’s seventh win, they moved on to ski-ball (which he won), air hockey (which he also won), and Space Invaders (which he barely won), they returned to their booth, half a pizza and refilled Sprites waiting for them. 

“Who sucks now, Sugu?” he asked, grinning as he sipped his Sprite. 

“In my defense, I only have one working hand, and besides, I let you win,” Suguru said, mostly lying. He now regretted giving Satoru the last shot during their air hockey match. 

“You’re not supposed to tell me that,” Satoru said. 

Suguru smiled, realizing he hadn’t stopped since he’d sat down in the Civic’s passenger seat. “It was a lie.” 

“I don’t think you’re supposed to tell me that either,” he said, laughing to himself. 

They sat in silence, watching a basketball game on one of the big screens above the bowling alley. After a moment, Suguru asked, “Do you like being 18? I feel like it would be a big milestone or something.” 

Satoru shrugged. “I still feel the same… mostly.” 

“Really? No crazy, psychological change?” Suguru asked, only partly joking. He thought it might’ve been that way. At midnight on his 18th birthday, he’d have an eye-opening moment, his entire life making sense. 

Satoru paused, pondering his answer. “I mean… nothing big like that. It’s subtle,” he said, disproving Suguru’s theory. “I thought, for some weird reason, that I’d be seventeen forever. And obviously, that isn't true.” 

Suguru was quiet for a second, Satoru’s words soaking him with unwanted nostalgia. “I guess we really are growing up.” 

“Do we ever really grow up, though?” Satoru asked, resting his elbows on the table. “In my mind, I’ll be this young forever. I don’t want things to change.” 

Suguru sighed, and for once, he knew exactly what he wanted to say. “I need to change, do better, feel better, but some part of me wants to stay the same. It’s more comfortable that way, but honestly, that's more of a reason to change.” 

He loved having deep conversations with Satoru. His words often gave Suguru a sense of comfort he couldn’t get with anyone else, and that was why he knew he’d always need Satoru in one way or another. 

“To me, you don’t need to change,” Satoru said, avoiding Suguru’s eyes. “Actually, I don’t want you to.”

Suguru breathed out a laugh, Satoru’s words coating him in light blue relief. “You’re sweet, Satoru, but I really do need to be better.” 

“In what way?” 

“In a lot of ways.” 

“Name three.” 

Suguru shrugged, needing only a split second to come up with them. “Well… I need to be better at basketball, school, and controlling my temper, and that’s only surface level.” 

Satoru frowned. “You are good at basketball. You might suck at school sometimes, but it’s part of your charm. And about the temper thing… I think it spices you up.” 

Suguru deadpanned. “You’re missing the point,” he said, choosing to ignore the ‘spices you up’ comment. 

“I don’t think I am,” Satoru said, laughing. “The point is crystal clear.” 

“If I was good at basketball, I’d be in the starting line-up.” 

“The starting line-up is overrated.” 

“Yeah, okay ,” Suguru said, rolling his eyes. “Says the person in the starting line-up.” 

“It’s not everything,” Satoru assured. “I don’t play because of that.” 

“Then why do you play?” 

“Because it’s fun hanging out with you every evening,” Satoru said, a slight blush dusting his cheeks. “That’s why.” 

Suguru’s hand twitched, fighting the urge to reach for Satoru’s. He anticipated touching him. He wanted to know how warm his hands were, to feel the soft bend of his knuckles, to trace the lines in his fingerprints… 

“Why do you have to say those kinds of things?” Suguru asked, knowing Satoru could see the redness in his face. It grew down his neck in sweet little strawberry patches, making his heart race.

“What kinds of things?” he asked. 

“You know what I mean.” 

Satoru grinned, leaning across the table. “I say them because I mean them… and because I want you to know what I’m thinking.”

Suguru could barely sit still anymore, his leg bouncing, fingers fidgeting, palms sweating. “And what are you thinking right now?” 

“I’m not ready to tell you.” 

Suguru slowly let out a breath. “Will you be ready to tell me any time soon?” he asked, playing it off with a smile. 

“I might never be able to tell you, Sugu,” Satoru admitted. “And I think that’ll be okay… Probably better, actually.” 

The words left Suguru’s mouth before he had a chance to mull it over. “I don’t think it’s better.” 

Satoru smiled, leaning back in the booth. “You wouldn’t be saying that if you knew,” he said, digging in his pocket. “Trust me on that.” 

Suguru watched him. Watched his lips part, his eyelashes flutter, his neck tilt down. He watched because he knew he couldn’t touch. He wanted to coax the words out of Satoru until he’d heard every last syllable, memorizing them into his blood. 

“I’m not so sure about that,” Suguru said. “I really want you to tell me.”  

Satoru laughed softly, showing Suguru what he’d been looking for. “I’m pretty sure you don’t,” he said, unscrewing the top of a flask. “Just believe me, okay?” 

“Why the hell do you have that?” Suguru whispered, eyes widening. “This is a family establishment.” 

“Don’t be lame,” Satoru said, smirking.

Suguru's heart dropped slightly at the dismissal of their conversation, wishing he could go back and say something different. He wondered if he was hiding his feelings well, or if Satoru could see right through him, reading his secrets like the pages of a book. 

Satoru spiked his own Sprite before spiking Suguru’s. “Enough to have fun but not enough to drive drunk, okay?” 

Suguru fought his smile. “I did not consent to this.” 

“It’s my birthday, remember?” Satoru said, grinning. “You know how much I love drinking.” 

“Honestly, Satoru, that’s one of your character flaws.” 

He smiled again, sipping his Sprite. “I might be a little bit of an alcoholic, but at least I know how to enjoy myself… unlike some people.” 

“As in me?” Suguru asked with a laugh, pointing to himself.

“At least you’re self aware,” he said, laughing. “Just drink your Sprite, Sugu. I know you want to.” 

Suguru drank his Sprite, partly because he wanted to drink it and also because he wanted to entertain Satoru. “You’re not a very good influence.” 

Satoru smiled down at himself, his fingers drumming softly on the table. He didn’t respond, looking back up at Suguru with a quiet amusement in his eyes. 

“What are you thinking about?” Suguru asked. 

“I told you already. That’s private.” 

“Please?” 

Satoru laughed. “Nice try, but it’s not gonna happen.” 

“I hate you.” 

“Real mature.” 

“Don’t patronize me.” 

Satoru grinned, still drumming his fingers. “That’s a big word for you, huh?” 

“You’re torturing me,” Suguru said, meaning every word. This was torture. His body felt it. His mind felt it. Being close to Satoru was sometimes painful, but he would never allow himself to do anything about it.

Satoru smiled, looking down and then up at Suguru again. The eye contact made his chest tighten. “Sugu, you’re just so easy to work up.” 

“I’m not ‘worked up,’ alright?” 

“You are, too. You should see how red your face is right now.” 

“Stop,” he groaned, covering his eyes. “I hate it when you do this to me.” 

“I’m just making an observation,” Satoru joked. “You blush at everything. It’s endearing.” 

Suguru sighed, resigning to bring up Satoru’s present in an effort to end the conversation. “Speaking of endearing, you can open this now.” 

Satoru’s eyes narrowed. “Distracting me with birthday presents. That’s unfair.” 

“Just open it,” he said, shoving it across the table. “It’s nothing crazy, but I liked it.” 

Satoru smiled. “My expectations are high.” 

“You should definitely lower them.” 

Satoru removed the tissue paper, his face softening once he saw what was inside. “Did you take this at the Homecoming dance?” 

Suguru nodded. It was a candid photo of Satoru dancing in his suit, his profile lit by the flash of the camera. His head was tilted up and his eyes were closed, a soft smile on his face. White flyaways flattered his face, bangs falling softly down his forehead.

“I love it, Sugu,” he said, admiring it. “Thank you.” 

“There’s more,” Suguru said, gesturing back to the bag. 

“Oh, perfect,” he said, lifting up a bag of strawberry hard candies. “I was running out.” 

“Were you?” Suguru asked, raising an eyebrow. 

He grinned. “Actually, my grandfather got me a whole box of them this morning, but I can never have enough.” 

Suguru laughed, watching as Satoru opened the bag and popped a candy in his mouth. “I’m glad you like it.” 

Satoru nodded, staring intently at the photograph. “I love it, but I wish you were there.” 

Suguru frowned. “In the photo?” 

“Yeah,” he said. “Honestly, I wish it was just you.” 

“It would’ve been pretty conceited of me to give you a photo of myself for your birthday,” Suguru said. He didn’t allow himself to dwell too long on what Satoru could’ve meant by that statement simply because he didn’t want to hope for anything. As if it couldn’t get any worse, Satoru smiled, and the look in his eyes drove Suguru over the edge. 

Satoru opened his mouth to say something else, but the words were lost, his phone vibrating on the wooden table. Suguru’s eyes glanced down, reading Satoru’s grandfather’s name. He looked at Satoru and watched as premature grief darkened his expression. 

“I should take this,” he said, the joy ending as soon as he answered the phone.

Chapter Text

It had been three days, and Satoru still hadn’t cried. Suguru was bracing himself for it, knowing that once it happened, it would be everything all at once. 

“Satoru,” he whispered from the doorway to his room, sitting beside him on the bed. “We should go.” 

He only nodded, smoothing out the non-existent wrinkles in his dress pants. “Yeah,” he said, blinking hard. “But I don’t want to go, Sugu. I really don’t.” 

“I know, but after an hour, it’ll be over,” Suguru said, placing a tentative hand on Satoru’s shoulder. “Then, you won’t have to worry about the funeral anymore.” 

“That’s the thing,” he said, looking at him. “Once the funeral’s over, it’s all over. This is the last thing I have left to do.” 

Suguru searched Satoru’s eyes for tears and found none. “It’s painful now, but you’re gonna be okay. You just have to give yourself time. That’s all.” 

“I am okay,” he said, leaning into Suguru. “I know I am, but I… I don’t want it to be over. I want to keep visiting her in the hospital. I would’ve visited her every single day for the rest of my life if that was what it took.” 

Suguru was quiet, trying to count his breaths. He stared at Satoru’s fish, its name eluding his mind. It swam around with flowing red fins, and for some reason, the motion calmed Suguru down. 

“She was suffering,” Satoru continued, allowing himself to lean further into Suguru with his head on his shoulder. “When I got the phone call and heard that she had died, I was devastated. I feel stupid for thinking she might’ve lived.”  

“Stop. You’re not stupid-” 

“I am,” Satoru interrupted. “Not only that, I’m selfish.” 

“Satoru, you’re allowed to grieve for her. She’s your mother .”  

“She’s gone, and there’s nothing else for me to do,” Satoru said, moving to get up. “Grieving for her doesn’t do me any good.” 

Suguru stood to face him, blue eyes meeting his own. “Of course it does. Why wouldn’t it?” 

“I can’t help her anymore,” Satoru said, slight frustration in his voice. “She died . Me grieving for her won’t bring her back to life.” 

“It’s not supposed to bring her back to life. It’s supposed to help you. ” 

“I don’t need any help,” Satoru said, his shoulders slumping. 

Suguru stared at him. Stared at the dark circles under his eyes, the grayness in his face, the tremble in his lip. Suguru readied himself for Satoru’s tears, looking for hints of them in his eyes. 

“I want to help you,” he said softly, afraid of how Satoru might respond. “Let me help you.” 

“Suguru,” he said, resting both his hands on Suguru’s shoulders. “Please don’t pity me. I’ve had enough of people pitying me.” 

“I’m not -” 

“You are,” he said, voice straining with the promise of tears. “I want you to stay the same. Look at me like you always do, not like you are right now.” 

Suguru stared down at Satoru’s gray carpet, his black shoes blurring in and out of focus. “Okay,” he whispered, barely finding it in himself to look back up again. “I’m sorry.” 

Satoru looked away this time, the sunset casting a burnt orange filter over his face. He took a deep breath, avoiding eye contact as he said, “Don’t let me lose myself today… or any day after this. I don’t want to forget me.” 

Suguru only nodded with the weight of those words, eventually following Satoru down the hallway and outside. They split up, Suguru returning to his parents’ car and Satoru joining his grandfather in the civic. Suguru wished he would have ridden with Satoru instead, missing him desperately on the ten minute ride to the funeral. 

. . .

Being at the funeral home made Suguru sweat, his nerves absolutely shot. He couldn’t keep his eyes off Satoru. His head hung and his left shoulder leaned against his grandfather, rising and falling with deep, steady breaths. 

He fought the urge to leave the room and take Satoru with him. He wanted to go sit by the lake and pretend it was summer, or lounge on the floor under the ceiling fan. Something normal. Something distracting. 

The funeral started, and when his mother wrapped her arm around his shoulder, he didn’t pull away. He realized that he had something Satoru didn’t, and he hated himself because of it. He hated that out of the two of them, Satoru deserved this the least. 

Suguru simply stared at the back of Satoru’s head the entire time, noting how the shadows made his hair look more gray than white. He waited for his shoulders to shake with sobs or his hand to reach for a box of tissues. None of that happened as the funeral leader spoke of her resilience, her motherly devotions, her life. Satoru’s grandfather mourned his daughter at the podium, choking with tears, and Suguru felt the familiar bite in the corners of his eyes, the painful lump in his throat, and the subtle shake of his hands as images of Satoru’s mother flipped through his mind. Quiet evenings after school, weekends of basketball tournaments, packed lunches at the park, pale faces, shaved heads, visible ribs, the sound of a ventilator… 

It was Satoru’s turn to speak. He held a crumpled piece of notebook paper in his hands as he walked to the podium. The room was extremely quiet. So much so, Suguru couldn’t hear Satoru’s footsteps over the ringing in his own ears. He stared at him, begging for eye contact and getting none. When Satoru began his speech, Suguru’s heart stopped, afraid to drown out the sound of Satoru’s shaky voice with its pounding. 

“I have never fully admitted this to anyone,” he said, tightening his grip on the paper. “But I thought it would be helpful for me to admit it out loud to a crowd like this, so that she might hear me.” 

He took a brief pause, swallowing hard. “Everyone here, my grandfather included, seemed relieved when they realized my mother had passed. So many people have assured me that her suffering is over and that I should be relieved too… But, I cannot feel that way, and I do not believe it.” 

People shifted uncomfortably in their seats, fixing their posture or fidgeting with their hands, but Suguru stayed painfully still with his eyes glued to Satoru. He waited for him to cry and hoped he could keep it together in front of everyone. Suguru didn’t think they deserved to see Satoru cry. Honestly, he didn’t either. 

“I’m selfish, and I’m wrong for wishing her to still be alive despite the suffering she would have to endure. But, the wrongness doesn’t stop the way I feel. I would’ve visited her every single day for the rest of my life. I would’ve changed the flowers in her room every time they started to wilt. I would’ve held her hand, even if she couldn’t feel it. And I know that makes me a bad person, yet I cannot change how I feel.” 

Suguru tried to find his breaths as an ugly storm raged in his mind. In one, two, hold… a long exhaled three. Repeat. 

“If I could say one last thing to my mother, I would ask for her forgiveness. And it’s painful for me to realize that I can never truly know her answer.” He carefully folded the paper and walked back to his seat, leaving the room damp with his sorrow. 

Suguru’s mother tightened her grip on his shoulder, so he shifted more of his weight into her embrace, not knowing what else to do. 

. . .

Suguru met Satoru outside the funeral home, the rest of the guests talking and catching up inside. 

He was sitting on the curb under a dim streetlight with his arms clutching his knees. He turned back when he heard footsteps, his expression relaxing when he realized it was Suguru. 

“You’re the only person I’d want to talk to right now,” he said, sighing softly as Suguru sat next to him. 

The chill of early winter cut through Suguru’s coat, the wind making his nose red. “Are you cold?” he asked, noticing that Satoru didn’t have a jacket. His hands were shaking, but Suguru didn’t know if it was from the cold or something else. 

Satoru sighed deeply, his strawberry breath materializing in the air. “Yeah, but I’m too proud to go inside and get my coat in front of everyone. I’d rather be cold.” 

“Where is it?” Suguru asked, moving to get up, but Satoru grabbed his arm and pulled him gently back down. 

“No, I’d rather you stay out here if that’s okay,” he said, giving Suguru a reassuring squeeze before letting go. “I didn’t realize how much I hated being alone until you came outside.” 

Suguru nodded, feeling the slight pressure of Satoru’s shoulder against his own. He hesitated before asking, “Why are you afraid to see everyone?” 

“Because,” he murmured, looking down at the pavement. “I made a fool of myself back there.” 

“No,” Suguru said, shaking his head. “ God , no you didn’t-” 

“I did,” he said, squeezing his eyes shut. “I let everyone see me. You know?” 

Suguru let out a deep breath. “Maybe, but it was beautiful,” he said, unable to stop himself. “I won’t ever forget that for the rest of my life because… you really meant it.” 

“Beautiful?” Satoru asked, lifting his head. “Really?” 

Suguru blushed at having his own word returned to him. “I mean… I felt it, you know?” 

“And it felt bad , didn’t it?” Satoru asked, shaking his head. “I’m a trainwreck right now, Sugu. I don’t think it was beautiful . I just think it was so awful, you couldn’t look away.” 

“I could tell how much you loved her,” Suguru said as he tried to stop his voice from quivering. “Everyone could.” 

Satoru let out a broken laugh, his head against his knees. “I meant every word, but… it felt wrong to say it out loud. And I feel so… guilty.” 

“Why?” Suguru asked. 

Satoru sighed in frustration and wrung his hands together. “I’m a happy person, Sugu. Everyone knows that. Everyone expects that. And when I’m not, I feel like I’m betraying them. My grandfather, the basketball team, you- ”

“You’re not betraying anyone, Satoru. Especially not me,” Suguru assured. “I don’t know why you would think that.” 

“I can’t help it. I’m changing , and I don’t want to,” he said. “I want to be normal again. I want to be like that for you .” 

Suguru’s chest started to hurt, Satoru’s words caving it in. “You’re going through something traumatic. You’re bound to change-” 

“I don’t like this change,” he said, pulling his knees closer to his chest. “I don’t want to be this way. All sad and angry and… painful to be around.” 

Suguru didn’t know how to tell Satoru that he was wrong. So very wrong . He wanted to tell Satoru how much he loved him, not in just one way either. It was more than friendship to Suguru. He thought about Satoru in ways that friends shouldn’t think about other friends, and it was times like these that he wished he could embrace him, kiss him, comb his hair back with his fingers until all Satoru’s sadness had left him. Suguru would take it all for himself if he could. 

Instead of telling Satoru all of those truths, Suguru whispered, “You’re not painful to be around. At least not to me.” 

“Not yet,” he said so nonchalantly, it made Suguru angry. 

“Not ever.” He placed a gloved hand on Satoru’s knee. “You’re my best friend, you know? That means everything to me,” he said, letting his true feelings rot within him.

Satoru’s gaze moved over Suguru’s hand on his knee, tracing along the points of contact. “I don’t want you to feel obligated to stay. I’m miserable right now, Sugu. Absolutely miserable.”

“It’s okay.” 

“It’s always okay until it’s not,” Satoru whispered. “I’d hate for you to decide it isn’t okay anymore.” He hesitated before saying under his breath, “I really hate being alone.” 

“I won’t leave you alone.” 

“How do you know that?” 

Suguru squeezed Satoru’s knee. “I just know,” he said. “It’s just a fact, okay?” 

Satoru’s face relaxed. “I’m not sure, Sugu. I made an absolute fool of myself in front of everyone,” he said again. “And I saw it all over their faces. I think it might be a little too late for ‘okays.’” 

“I don’t think you’re a fool.” 

“I saw you trying not to cry,” he said, his breaths uneven. “That was all because of me.” 

Suguru rubbed his thumb across Satoru’s knee, forcing him to look up from the pavement. “I’m not gonna lie and say that seeing you like this doesn’t affect me because it does. It really does, but this is an awful situation.” He sighed, trying to find the right words. “You can’t keep pushing down your sadness, Satoru. That feeds it. Strengthens it, until it’s the only thing you can be anymore.” 

Without much thought, Satoru asked, “How do I know that hasn’t already happened to me?” 

Suguru paused a little too long before saying, “It hasn’t.” 

“What makes you say that?” Satoru asked, his tears on the verge of falling. Suguru wanted to catch them before they reached his cheeks and hide them, protecting Satoru from what they really meant. 

“I can feel it,” he said, moving to hold Satoru’s hand. “You’re still light blue to me.” 

Satoru interlocked their fingers, stealing Suguru’s warmth through his glove. “Okay,” he whispered mostly to himself, blinking the tears away before they escaped. 

“Okay,” Suguru repeated, holding Satoru’s hand until his parents forced him to leave.

Chapter Text

Satoru was asleep on Suguru’s bed. He had been for hours now. 

Suguru closed his textbook and rested his head on his desk, watching Satoru’s back rise and fall with sleepful breaths. His limbs were tangled with Suguru’s quilt, his face buried into the pillow. 

Even though his mother had called them for dinner ten minutes prior, he couldn’t find it in himself to wake Satoru up. 

It had been two weeks since his mother’s death, and Satoru was more detached than ever, hardly speaking or smiling. He never cried, barely existing in Suguru’s company. Numbness hovered over him like a thick, blinding fog, but despite that, he still subtly clung to Suguru. He always asked to stay the night, only to crawl into Suguru’s bed and sleep himself away. 

Suguru wished he didn’t mind. He wished seeing Satoru like this didn’t affect him so much. It was draining, leaving him to wonder, despite his past beliefs, if Satoru would ever be the same again. Overthinking came naturally to Suguru, so it was useless trying to stop himself.

He decided to leave Satoru alone in his room and made his way to the kitchen. His mother was sitting alone at the breakfast bar with a bowl of chicken soup and a glass of water, scrolling mindlessly through her phone.

“Where’s Ren?” Suguru asked, grabbing two bowls from the cabinet. 

She hummed. “He’s on a business trip for the weekend.” 

Suguru nodded and sat beside her after putting Satoru’s bowl in the fridge. “It’s nice walking around without fear of directed hostility.” 

She sighed, flashing a smile. “He may be harsh sometimes, but he cares for you, Suguru. That can’t go unnoticed.” 

He shrugged, unsatisfied. “Tough love, I guess.” 

They were quiet for a while. The silence filled with the heater cutting on and off, rattling the vents. 

“Suguru?” she said, turning to face him. 

“Yeah?” 

“How is Satoru?” 

Suguru didn’t know how to answer that question. His dread worsened the longer he tried to come up with something, so he blurted out the truth, unable to construct a convincing lie. “He’s not doing well, and I don’t know what to do,” he said, looking softly at his mother. “He hardly speaks to me anymore.” 

She sighed, her shoulders dropping. “Time heals all wounds,” she assured. “Time will heal his too.” 

Suguru shook his head. “I’m not so sure.” 

“Why’s that?” 

He didn’t want to talk about it, but he needed to. There was no one else he could say this to but her. “I thought I knew Satoru, like really knew him,” he explained. “It’s scary for me to see him like this, and it makes me wonder if I ever knew him at all.” 

“He lost his mother,” she said, sliding her empty bowl to the side. “He’s hurting. That’s all it is.” 

“There are two versions of Satoru, Mom,” Suguru said, needing her to understand. “One before his mother died and one after, and the two are nothing alike.” He swallowed the sharp lump in his throat. “I don’t want to lose him, you know?” 

“Be patient,” she said, sweetly brushing his hair off his shoulder. “He’s still Satoru.” 

“I know,” he said, his breath shuddering. “He’s the only person I feel comfortable around, and I know I take him for granted. I use him to… feel good about myself. And I… I need him.” 

Suguru was ashamed to admit it, and the feeling branched through his veins, cramping him up. He wrapped his arms around himself in an attempt to alleviate it. 

“Suguru,” she whispered, her eyes widening. An unspoken understanding flashed in them, accompanied by unfallen tears. “Just give him some time, okay? He needs you just the same.” 

“Two weeks have passed, and the last real conversation we had was outside the funeral home,” Suguru said, letting his soup get cold. “He asked me to make sure he didn’t lose himself, and I feel like I failed him.” 

“You haven’t failed him. He’s here, isn’t he?” she said. “That has to mean something .” 

He nodded, her words slowly unwinding him. “You said earlier that time heals all wounds,” Suguru said, his mind stuck on the phrase. “I want that to be true so badly, but so many times, when I hope for things, they turn out all wrong. And I’m afraid to hope for Satoru, because… I don’t know what I’d do if it didn’t turn out.” 

She grabbed his hand and messaged his palm like she used to. Memories from his childhood calmed Suguru as he found his breaths, her voice from a long time ago giving him instructions.

“If that happens, which I don’t think it will, then time will heal that wound too,” she said. “You will heal, and you will live, Suguru. Satoru will too.” 

Suguru could tell she meant those words and believed them too. Despite his hesitation to do the same, he held onto them, repeating them to himself as he walked back up the stairs. Satoru was still asleep, the ceiling fan falling into rhythm with his deep, easy breaths. 

. . .

Satoru missed every last one of his shots. He hit the rim, the backboard, the bottom of the net, anything but through the hoop. 

Suguru could only sit and watch as he was left with one more day until his cast was removed, not that he would’ve played anyway. He simply observed as Satoru broke down in the middle of the game, committing foul after foul and missing shot after shot until finally, he was benched the entire fourth quarter of the final game before winter break. 

Their coach didn’t save the rageful commentary for the locker room, letting his angered shouts of disappointment echo through the silent gym. They weren’t used to Satoru having a bad game because he never had bad games. The coach was still yelling at Satoru as the time expired, and the team headed to the locker room. North High had lost for the first time in four years, a foreign sense of failure weighing down the mood. 

Suguru’s gaze never left Satoru as their coach shouted obscenities. He sat in front of his locker with his elbows resting on his knees and his head hanging low. White bangs shielded his expression, and Suguru fought the urge to walk over and push them back, searching his eyes for an emotion, any at all. 

Basketball had been so important to Satoru, and now, it just wasn’t anymore. Suguru could see his passion for it draining out of him by the second, puddling around his feet on the locker room floor. 

Suguru lost track of time and chewed the inside of his cheek as their coach gave his eternal speech of blame-filled tangents, mostly directed at Satoru who never bothered to look up. Finally, after one final dig at him, everyone started to pack up, the slammed door ending the lecture. 

The room was eerily quiet as player after player put on their street clothes and left, no one getting within six feet of Satoru. He still didn’t move, frozen with his gaze to the ground. Suguru stayed despite his discomfort, noticing that Satoru was barely breathing. 

It wasn’t long until they were the only two left, an awful tenseness tightening around Suguru’s throat. He knelt down in front of Satoru and placed a hand on his knee. “Satoru-” 

“I can’t do this right now,” he said hoarsely. “Just go. I’m sure your parents are waiting for you in the parking lot.” 

Suguru took his hand away and rubbed it on his sweatpants, wondering why his palm was stinging. “What’s going on?” he whispered, not wanting to leave Satoru alone no matter how much his body begged him to. 

“Seriously?” he asked, his gaze shooting up. His eyes were angrier than Suguru had ever seen them. “What’s not going on?” 

“You can talk to me about it-” 

“About what ?” Satoru asked, standing up. He clenched his fists, knuckles changing from white to red and back again. “I can’t talk to you about anything . You know why?” 

Suguru started to shake. He’d never seen Satoru like this. He was angry , chest heaving, sweat beading, neck flushing. His eyes were hateful, and Suguru didn’t know how to change them back to normal. He would’ve done anything . 

“Satoru, it was just one bad game,” Suguru attempted, standing up to face him. “It’s okay.” 

“You always say that, you know?” Satoru said, obviously fighting the urge to yell. “You always fucking lie .” 

Panic lodged in Suguru’s throat, constricting his airway and killing his words. 

“Not once has it been okay,” Satoru continued. “It might've been okay for you, but it’s never been for me.” 

“I’m sorry,” was all Suguru could say. He wondered if this would be their last conversation, a decade of friendship lost in the basketball locker room. He hoped not. Prayed not. He wouldn’t know what to do with himself if it were. 

“There you go again, Suguru. Always with the ‘it's okay’ and the ‘I’m sorry.’”

“I don’t know what you want,” Suguru said, wondering if he could see the defeat in his eyes. He didn’t want to fight with Satoru. This was worse than any fight with Bug Boy or his mother, the consequences too severe. 

Satoru let out an angry laugh, meeting Suguru’s eyes. “I want you to realize how fucking perfect your life is.” 

Suguru froze, his heart skipping and stopping and buffering all at once. “Satoru, please stop.” 

“Oh, I’m just getting started,” he said, laughing again. “You have perfect parents. A father that loves you. A mother that’s alive , and not only that, loves you enough to forgive you for all the shitty things that come out of your mouth.” 

“Satoru, please -”

“You have no idea how good you have it, you know?” Satoru continued despite his begging. “My mother is dead . I can’t see her, talk to her, tell her how much I love her… but you can . You can do all of those things with your own mother, and you just don’t .” 

Suguru wanted to disappear. Sink through the white-tiled floor, vaporize into smoke, shatter like shards of broken glass… anything but face Satoru like this. It was strange, wrong, unlike Satoru in every way, yet it was just like him. It looked like him, sounded like him, felt like him, even when it shouldn’t have. 

“Why are you doing this?” Suguru asked, forcing his tears away. “I just want to help you. That’s all.” 

“Why do you want to help me? Am I that pitiful?” 

“No,” Suguru said, unable to find his breaths. He just kept inhaling, the air not wanting to leave his lungs. 

“Then why ?” Satoru asked, looking Suguru in the eye. 

Suguru noticed the tears, flowing in quiet streams down Satoru’s cheeks, but he didn’t seem to realize they were there. 

“Because, you’re my friend ,” Suguru whispered. “And I… care for you.” 

Satoru’s expression broke. It was slight, but Suguru could see through the cracks. “The way you’re looking at me says something else,” Satoru said, his breath hitching. 

“How am I looking at you?” 

Satoru tried to breathe, his chest not wanting to rise like it normally did. “You’re afraid of me right now, aren’t you?” 

“No.” 

“I can see it,” Satoru said, the cracks deepening. “What are you afraid of?” 

“I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do.” 

Suguru took a deep breath, forcing himself to look at Satoru. Ignoring the lump in his throat and the pain in his chest proved to be difficult as his voice came out desperate and broken.“I’m afraid of what you might say next,” Suguru admitted. “If this is going to end how I think it’s going to, I want you to know… I can’t live, knowing you hate me.” 

A second passed, then Satoru shattered. His shoulders dropped, and his anger disappeared, replaced with something that resembled shame. “ Fuck, ” he said under his breath, having to turn away. 

Regret pulled Suguru deep into himself, and he clawed his way out trying to find something else to say. Satoru found his words first. 

“I lost one of the only people I’ve ever loved,” he said, his lip trembling. “I love you, and now I’m making you hate me… And I can’t even stop myself.” He turned back and touched his face, staring at the tear on his fingertip. “I really didn’t want to cry.” 

“Satoru, I don’t hate you,” Suguru said, slowly approaching him. “Isn’t that obvious?” 

“I can’t tell.” 

Suguru took another step closer, hyper aware of the sound of his tennis shoes. 

His mother had told him once that crying was the body’s way of letting out the emotions it couldn’t handle from within. As he watched Satoru now, he knew that was true. He fought the urge to kiss the drops of sorrow falling endlessly from Satoru’s eyes.

“You can cry,” he assured, daring to wipe one of his tears away with the pad of his thumb. “There’s no shame in that.” 

A defeated sob left his lips and the tears flowed faster. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, caving in on himself. “I’m really sorry, Sugu.” 

“I know,” Suguru said, embracing him. He ignored how much it hurt to touch him. The waning thrum of rage still clung to Satoru. “You don’t need to be sorry.” 

Satoru wrapped his arms around Suguru’s middle, burying his face in his hair. “I wanted to hurt you,” he said softly. “I wanted you to hate me, and I don’t know why.” 

“I told you already,” Suguru said. “I don’t hate you.” 

“You could .” 

“No, I couldn’t,” Suguru said with a confidence that seemed to calm Satoru down. 

He was quiet for a moment, steadying his breaths. “I’m sorry,” he whispered again. He tightened his grip on Suguru and stretched his palms over his back, pressing them closer together. 

“It’s going to be okay, Satoru,” Suguru said, biting his lip to keep from crying. “I’d never lie to you. I never have.” 

“I know,” Satoru said. “So many people have said that to me, but when you say it, it feels different somehow.” 

Satoru’s tears left Suguru bleeding, tiny paper cuts worsening to gaping wounds. He forced the blood back in, hoping Satoru couldn't see.

Chapter Text

There was a holiday party on 13th street, but they decided not to go, opting to watch movies at Satoru’s house instead. 

On the dark walk there, Suguru anticipated what the evening would be like. Considering yesterday’s events, he thought it was stupid to hope for anything normal. The longer he thought about the fight with Satoru, the worse he felt. The adrenaline of that night heightened the memories, each hateful word Satoru had said echoing softly in his ear every few moments. He continued to ignore it, turning up the music in his headphones to drown it out. He didn’t need to dwell too much, especially now that Satoru’s house was only a block away. Suguru counted his steps, his breaths, the beat of the music, counting and counting until he reached the front porch. 

Everything looked the same as Suguru rang the doorbell, noting the soft ring of the windchimes in the wind. He had expected it to be different now that his mother was gone, but it was unchanged, almost as if she would be answering the door. Satoru answered instead, the tension around his eyes lessening as Suguru walked inside. “I meant to clean up, but I forgot,” he said, softly closing the door behind him. 

Suguru observed the living room, stepping over two pairs of Satoru’s shoes on the way in. “I’m sure you did.”

“No,” he admitted, laughing. “I was just saying that.” He slumped down on the couch and clicked on the television. He’d already made popcorn, his hand unconsciously wandering to the giant bowl on the side table. “I knew you wouldn’t mind if it were a little bit messy, though.” 

Suguru smiled and sat beside him, reaching across his lap for a handful of popcorn. “It looks just fine,” he said, realizing he hadn’t joked with Satoru in almost three weeks. It felt good , like little hints of Satoru were returning to him, slowly piecing back together. 

Satoru paused, popcorn halfway to his mouth. He put it down and sighed, staring at Suguru with brief flashes of guilt and grief. There was something he wanted to say, but Suguru was scared to hear it, especially if it were an apology. 

“Satoru?” he asked, noticing the slight tremble in his hands. “Is everything okay?” This was what Suguru should’ve prepared for on the walk over, not forcing his apprehension down with Satoru’s favorite indie rock songs. He should’ve come up with a plan, a list of things to say, and a decent course of action for every possible word that could’ve come out of Satoru’s mouth–

Satoru clasped his hands together, jolting Suguru out of himself. “I just,” he said, taking a nervous pause. “I just wanted to ask you about yesterday. Before, you know… we put a bandaid on it.” 

Suguru quieted the screams in his head long enough to respond. “What about it?” 

“It’s hard for me to forgive myself, Sugu,” he admitted. “You know that. I just… wanted to make sure you weren’t forcing yourself to hang out with me or if you’re uncomfortable–” 

“I’m fine,” he assured, trying to convince himself almost as much as Satoru. “I’ve been wanting to hang out with you for the past three weeks, so I’m honestly relieved right now.” 

“I shouldn’t have used you like that, you know? Just coming over to sleep in your bed and ghost you in your own house,” Satoru said, rubbing his palms on his sweatpants. “I didn’t know what to do with myself, and I–I still don’t.” 

“That’s not what I meant,” Suguru explained, already regretting his choice of words. “I only meant that I missed you not that you used me–” 

“I did use you,” Satoru interrupted. “And I shouldn’t have.” 

“It’s okay if you did,” Suguru said, meeting Satoru’s blue gaze. “I don’t mind.” 

“You should mind.” 

“But I don’t,” he said plainly. Satoru may have hurt him, but it really didn’t matter. The only way they’d ever be separated was if Satoru left him first. “I don’t mind at all, and it took you getting angry for me to understand that about myself.” 

“Those things I said in the locker room weren’t true.” 

“They were true. Why else would you’ve said them?”

“I was pushing you away because in my mind, you’d feel a lot better if I weren’t suffocating you all the time,” he said, sighing. “But that’s not for me to decide, is it?” 

Suguru clenched his fists, realizing he needed Satoru too much. He clung to every kind gesture, every slight touch, and every random act of affection. He treasured every moment of intimacy between them, obsessing until he could recreate it in his mind: the back of his neck burning with the ghost of Satoru’s touch, his ears singing with the reminder of Satoru’s voice, his teeth aching with the taste of Satoru’s strawberry candies. After weeks without Satoru, so much of him all at once was overwhelming, Suguru’s body remembering the pleasantness and the familiar obsession. 

“Your mother is gone,” Suguru said gently, the house damp with the weight of her absence. “And I’m sorry for pretending things are okay when they aren’t.” 

Satoru sighed, shifting his sock feet on the rug. “The dam broke, Sugu.” He paused, a dim grayness emitting from him. “I think I’m going to be okay.” 

Suguru let those words settle between them, wrapping them together like blankets. He searched Satoru’s eyes for a lie, but he found none, seeing grief in its purest form instead. 

“Satoru, can I ask you something?” 

He pursed his lips. “Yes, but I’m worried.” 

Suguru grinned, crossing his legs on the couch. He tried to play it off like one of their little games, but it was much more than that to him. “If we never saw each other again after today, what would you do?” 

Satoru’s eyes widened with hurt and confusion. “That’s a silly question,” he said, staring at his hands. “What makes you ask that?” 

“Just answer it,” Suguru pressed, his desire to know the answer outweighing the tenseness between them. 

“I don’t know what I would do.” 

“You gotta have some idea.” 

Satoru’s expression fell, the grayness still seeping from his skin. “I know what you would do.” 

Suguru raised an eyebrow. “What would I do?” he asked, curious to know what Satoru thought. Despite whatever he might’ve said, Suguru knew the truth. If he didn’t have Satoru, he’d be alone, probably for the rest of his life. He’d want to be. 

“You would move on, make new friends, fall in love with someone,” Satoru said, his voice shaking. “And one day, you would pass me on the street, lock eyes with me for a moment, and keep going, a lifetime passing between us without a single word.” 

“That’s not true–”

“Out of the two of us, Sugu, you’re more likely to leave. I know that for a fact.” 

Suguru’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why do you say that?”

“I’m stuck here, you know?” Satoru said, shrugging. “My mother’s in this town. I can never leave.” 

The mention of her cut him deep. Suguru forced the heartbreak within himself, letting it fester for the time being. “Why would I leave you?” 

“You belong somewhere much better than here. You and I both know that,” Satoru said, forcing a sad smile. “Besides, it was just a hypothetical question, right? It’s nothing too serious.” 

“Did you really mean it, though?” Suguru asked, ignoring Satoru’s apprehension. “About never wanting to leave?” 

“I did,” he said, shrugging, “but I also meant what I said the day Mimi died. I want us to stay together. Maybe, with time, I can find the courage to leave my mother behind.” 

Suguru swallowed hard. He regretted this conversation, wishing he could go back and stop the words from coming out of his mouth. “Forget I asked, okay?” 

Satoru grinned softly, placing a hand on Suguru’s knee. His breath caught, his eyes memorizing the weight of the contact. “If this was the last time I ever saw you, I’d spend forever trying to replicate our friendship with someone else,” Satoru said, his gaze softening. “ That’s what I would do.” 

“Do you think you would succeed?” Suguru asked without meaning to. 

“No way,” Satoru said so confidently, it caught Suguru off guard. “It’s impossible.” 

“Really?” 

Satoru laughed. “Yeah, really ,” he said. “As if anyone could replace you.” 

“ Someone could,” Suguru said, looking away. “Maybe not immediately, but they could .”

Satoru sighed, squeezing Suguru’s knee. “You just don’t get it, do you?” 

“Get what?” Suguru asked, uncrossing his legs. 

“If you don’t know by now, you’ll never know.” 

Suguru’s heart raced, shaking behind his rib cage. He gave up on trying to decipher what Satoru meant, simply because he didn’t want to be wrong. He wanted Satoru to tell him he loved him again without the anger from the locker room. He wanted the words unfiltered and genuine, laced with feelings much stronger than friendship. 

“I really hate it when you’re cryptic. My chest feels funny,” Suguru admitted, meeting Satoru’s eyes. “It’s very uncomfortable.” 

He laughed again, switching off the lamp. With his face lit by the television screen, Satoru asked, “Why’s that?” 

“I hate not knowing what you mean,” he said, unconsciously picking at his cuticles. “It makes me feel stupid.” 

“I can mean whatever you want me to mean.” 

“But what if what you really meant and what I wanted you to mean are two different things, and I’d hate to end up hoping for something that will never be real.” 

Satoru sighed, moving to lie down. He rested his head on Suguru’s thigh, playing with the ends of his hair. “You’re looking too far into it,” he said. “No need to be all angsty and poetic about it.”  

“I hate you,” Suguru said through a smile, smelling the strawberries on Satoru's mouth. “What am I if not angsty and poetic?” 

He only grinned, his hand stalling in Suguru’s hair before he brought it back to himself. His eyes widened with innocent realization, his smile growing. “Let me see your hands.” 

Suguru laughed, giving them both to Satoru. “I was wondering when you’d notice.” 

“Your cast is off! This is fucking amazing,” he said, lightly grazing his lips against Suguru’s newly healed knuckles. 

The gesture stopped Suguru’s heart for a moment. An agonizing silence dampened his bones before it started up again, throbbing under the skin Satoru had kissed. “It feels weird being exposed to open air. It’s like I’m naked,” he said, sighing.

“Aren’t you thrilled to be returning to practice?” Satoru asked with a laugh, giving Suguru’s hand a friendly pat before letting him go. 

“Beyond thrilled,” Suguru said, his voice monotonous and droning. 

Satoru deadpanned. “Sure sounds like it.” 

“I’ll worry about it on Monday.” 

“You’re right,” Satoru said, groping the couch for the remote. “ I’m excited to have you back if that’s any consolation.” 

“It is.” 

Satoru smiled softly, handing the remote to Suguru. “As always, I trust your judgment as a cultured movie theater employee. Just… nothing too sad… or too happy.”  

“You put a little too much faith in me sometimes, Satoru. ” 

Satoru only shrugged, letting Suguru choose an action thriller with fighter pilots and a plot full of military strategy and comedic relief. Once it started, he realized how fuzzy his head felt. He was confused by the sensation, wondering why he was so nervous around Satoru. It was a different kind of nervousness, one he’d never experienced before, and it terrified him. It made his heart pound, his hands sweat, and his throat close up. However, it was pleasant, hot in his veins and sweet on his tongue. This made it impossible to pay attention, the whole storyline going right over his head. 

Instead, he debated whether touching Satoru’s hair would be a good idea. The soft glow from the television illuminated the nape of his neck, the way it followed the curve of his spine, shook with his quiet laughter, shivered slightly at the coolness of the room. He imagined running his fingers across it. He could tell his skin was smooth, noting how it blended with his hair. If he touched him there, what would Satoru say? What would he do ?

The credits rolled and rolled and rolled, neither of them saying a word. Suguru was too preoccupied, slowly resting his hand on the side of Satoru's head. The courage came from deep within his chest, stacking up like blocks behind his ribcage. It was a desperate sense of longing he didn’t have the strength to deny any more, much less control. 

The touch was tentative and slow, his fingers brushing back Satoru’s bangs like they’d wanted to for so long. Suguru’s breath caught in his throat as he ran his hand through Satoru’s scalp over and over, sparks popping and cracking from his skin. His fingers feathered the skin behind Satoru’s ear, traced the line of his jaw, dipped down his neck, swirled around the pit of his throat, and tugged at the neckline of his t-shirt, pressing lightly along his collarbone. The nervousness from before transformed into something else as light blue static overwhelmed his senses. It bled deep in his stomach, and he fought the urge to squirm, needing a way to relieve it. 

Satoru’s chest rose and fell, quicker, deeper, and more desperate for air. Goosebumps rose on his skin, and his hand twitched as Suguru felt his pulse on his neck, his lips parting when he realized how fast it was. Blotches of red flushed Satoru’s cheeks, and Suguru wondered if it was contagious as the heat bubbled down his own neck. 

“ Suguru ,” he gasped, reaching his hand up to stop him. “Can you… wait a second?” 

“What?” he asked, breathless as the screen turned completely black and the music stopped. 

“Just give me a second, okay?” he asked, getting up. He was careful not to face Suguru. “Just a second.”

Satoru left, disappearing down the hallway, and Suguru felt like dying. He could barely form a coherent thought, much less a logical one, and fear overwhelmed him, toppling the courage he’d felt earlier. It cracked his bones, threatening to tear him at his seams. 

He fought the urge to scream as he leaned deeper into the couch, running his hands through his hair. They smelled of Satoru’s shampoo, citrus-like and masculine. He’d never been so turned on, and every attempt to ease it came up short. His thoughts lingered on the heat of Satoru’s skin, the softness of his hair, the sound of his quickening breaths… Suguru imagined what might’ve happened if Satoru hadn’t left. He imagined running his hands across his chest, down the curve of his waist, along his abdomen, over the taunt tissue of childhood scars, under the waistband of his sweatpants, and down, down, down until… 

He searched for breaths before Satoru returned, using the process to quiet his forbidden thoughts. There they were again, begging to be permitted. 

Even though Satoru said 'just a second,' it had, in fact, been several . Suguru knew because he counted. It had been 523 seconds… 549… 602-

“I’m sorry, Suguru,” Satoru said, emerging from the dark hallway and sitting on the couch. His hands were shaking, and he flexed his fingers to get them to stop. “I can’t explain it. So… I’m sorry.” 

“Did I do something wrong?” Suguru asked, fidgeting. “Because if I did, I didn’t mean to.” 

“No,” Satoru assured through pursed lips. “Quite the opposite, actually.” 

Suguru thought he might die, his hands still burning with the reminder of Satoru. He lost his breaths but gave up on trying to find them.

“Do you want me to go?” he asked, afraid of what Satoru might say. “I can go-” 

“I want you to stay,” Satoru said, sighing deeply. “But I don’t think you should.” 

“I’ll go then,” Suguru said, getting up to leave. Suddenly, the prospect of being outside in the cold was favorable. Next to Satoru, he couldn’t breathe, think, feel anything other than immense pleasure, but it was simply too much. It was sharp and painful, blinding him with the desire to feel nothing instead. 

“Wait,” Satoru said, grabbing his wrist. The contact burnt , sending waves of heat up Suguru’s arm, but it was only for a moment as Satoru suddenly let go. “I can drive you home.” 

Suguru wondered why, despite the burning sensation, he missed Satoru’s touch all the same. “I’d rather walk,” he said, eyes flashing to the front door. “I’ll be fine.” 

Satoru absentmindedly ran his tongue over his teeth, poking at the point of his canines. “I, uh, made this really awkward, didn’t I?” 

“No, it’s fine,” Suguru said, slipping on his shoes. “I shouldn’t have done what I did-” 

“That’s not it,” Satoru assured, following him to the door. “You didn’t do anything wrong, okay? I’m just…” He sighed and chewed on the inside of his cheek. “I can drive you… Please let me drive you.” 

Suguru got lightheaded again, slightly shaking his head in an attempt to clear it. Satoru’s face was in a tunnel of black static, and the more Suguru blinked, the worse it got. “No,” he said, his hand resting on the door knob. “It’s not too bad. Plus, the gas money and you’ll get home really late and-” 

“I don’t care about the gas money or getting home late, Sugu,” he said, his eyes serious. “I… wanted more time to fix what I just did.” 

“Fix what?” 

Satoru sighed, crossing his arms. “I scared you. That’s what.” 

“You didn’t.” 

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Satoru said, laughing nervously. “I’m sure you know why I had to leave, and I think I should explain-”

“No need,” Suguru assured. If this was going how he hoped, he didn’t think he could handle it. Up until then, those kinds of thoughts had been denied, shoved away, forced into the darkest part of his mind to die. But that defense never worked as everything resurfaced the second he saw Satoru’s face. It was a whirlwind of shame and desire, contradicting itself in the worst way imaginable. “I took it a little too far, and you were obviously uncomfortable-” 

“That’s the thing,” Satoru said, looking like he might throw up. “I… wasn’t uncomfortable at all.”  

“You left when you could’ve stayed,” Suguru said, meeting his eyes. “What else was I supposed to think?” 

“Did you want me to stay?” 

Suguru paused, paralyzed with apprehension. Despite his attraction to Satoru, it was accompanied by a deep-rooted fear. Fear that Satoru would regret it. Fear of what his parents would think. Fear that he would fall in love with Satoru in that way, only for it to be unrequited. 

“I don’t know,” he answered through the painful lump in his throat. He hated those words, especially when they came from his own mouth. 

Satoru gave him a sad smile, slowly nodding his head. “Okay.” 

“ Okay ?” 

“Yeah,” Satoru assured. “That’s okay. I just thought…” 

Another tense, agonizing, long moment of silence. “Thought what?” 

He sighed and stared at the floor, kicking aside his misplaced shoes with his foot. “Nothing,” he said through a frustrated pause. He looked around pointlessly and placed his hands behind his head. “Fuck, I’m really sorry, Sugu. I’ll… let you go.” 

The room was too hot. Suguru’s shirt was too tight. He was suddenly too aware of his bangs hanging in his eyes, and he fought the urge to push them back, suffocating inside his own mind. “Will I see you tomorrow?” he asked, almost needing to know. He opened the door to ease the pressure, the late-December wind rushing inside. 

Satoru’s face was still a shade of bright red, little strawberry patches spreading across his cheeks and down his neck. Suguru fought the urge to touch them, ignoring the twitch in his hands and the ache in his stomach begging him to do it anyway. 

“Yeah,” Satoru whispered, leaning against the door. “Will you make me a margarita like old times?” 

Suguru nodded, laughing at the mention of something so normal at a weird time like this. He wished he could fast forward to the next day, despite it being spent at his job. Once he got home, he wouldn’t be able to think about anything else until they had a different conversation, under different circumstances, at a different time of day-

“Okay… well,” Suguru said before he avalanched out of control. He stepped through the threshold, turning around to face Satoru. “I had a good time tonight.” 

Before Suguru could beat himself up for saying something so stupid, Satoru spoke first. “That’s a relief,” he said, biting his cheek again. “Me too.” 

“Yeah, uh, bye, I guess.” 

Satoru grinned at Suguru’s awkwardness, the redness on his cheeks getting darker. “Bye, Sugu. Text me when you get home.” 

Suguru nodded and walked past the porch swing, his mother’s dead flowers, and Satoru’s handprints in the concrete, only allowing himself to breathe once he heard Satoru close the front door. He listened to the windchimes for as long as they were in earshot, not even bothering to put on his headphones. The music would have reminded him of Satoru as if everything didn’t already. That was the last thing he needed. 

Chapter Text

“You've never put any real alcohol in these margaritas, have you?” Satoru asked, his straw making an obnoxious noise as he finished his third one. “And why am I just realizing it now?”

Suguru shook his head, stifling his laughter. “You’re incredibly unperceptive.” 

Satoru huffed through his smile. “And you’re rude.” 

“That’s a new one.” 

“A new what?” 

“A new word you’ve never called me before.” 

Satoru’s smile widened, making his eyes squint. “You keep track of the names I call you?” 

Little did Satoru know, Suguru kept track of every word that came out of his mouth. “ No ,” he lied, leaning across the counter on his elbows. “Of course I don’t.” 

“I’ve never been less convinced of anything in my life,” Satoru said, glaring. 

Suguru rolled his eyes, unable to suppress his smile. “Sugu is still my favorite.” 

“I knew you secretly liked it.” 

“I guess I wasn’t very secretive, then.” 

Satoru nodded. “Your blushes always give you away, Sugu,” he said, grinning. “Just like right now.” 

“I’m not blushing,” Suguru lied for the second time that evening. The unsuccessful deception only made him blush deeper, the redness sizzling over his cheeks. 

“I wish I had a mirror to show you,” he said, resting his elbows on the counter. “It’s very obvious.” 

Suguru laughed, busying himself with trivial chores around the bar. 

Despite the awkwardness from the night before, Suguru felt at ease around Satoru, mostly because he seemed like his normal self. He made unfunny jokes at bad times, inhaled his strawberry candies, and, the thing Suguru had missed the most, he laughed. Suguru realized that nothing else could create that particular shade of light blue in his mind, and he was relieved to feel it again, even though it was tentative and not quite the same.

Either way, he was grateful to have Satoru back at the theater again. It’d been months since they’d spent a Friday night together at the bar, Suguru working and Satoru lounging. It felt natural, like they’d been made for this routine. 

“Suguru?” Satoru asked, waving a hand in front of his face. “You’re staring at nothing.” 

He blinked hard. “Sorry. I was just thinking about how long it’s been since we hung out like this, you know? At the theater and everything.” 

Satoru’s face fell slightly. “That’s my fault, isn’t it?” he asked. 

“It’s no one’s fault,” Suguru assured, picking at his nails. A soft silence fell over them, blanketed with the weight of things that had yet to be mentioned. 

Satoru popped a strawberry candy into his mouth and switched it from cheek to cheek. “Can I ask you something?” he said, playing with the lemon on his empty margarita glass. “You can say no.” 

“You can ask me anything,” Suguru said, swallowing his fear at the memory of the previous night. Neither of them had brought it up in the past two hours, and Suguru was content with that, ignoring his body’s painful persistence. He wanted to touch Satoru again, his fingers twitching with the fantasy. “I just enjoy hearing you talk.”

“You do?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. “Do I have a sexy voice or something?” 

Suguru groaned, noting the bass-heavy booms from the movie playing down the hall. “It’s more like… you make me feel like things aren’t as serious as I think.” 

“Because they never are,” Satoru said, his gaze distractedly shifting from Suguru’s eyes, to his hands, to the slightly unbuttoned collar of his uniform shirt, to his stupid name tag. 

“This isn’t about me,” Suguru complained, playing it off as a joke. He wondered if Satoru could see how difficult it was for him to be still, acting as if his heart wasn’t bursting in his chest. “You were going to ask me something, remember?” 

“I was, wasn’t I?” Satoru said, pretending to contemplate. “Well, I changed my mind.” 

Suguru glared. “Don’t be like that.” 

“Like what?” 

“All wishy-washy.” 

Satoru grinned, staring at him through white eyelashes. “ Wishy-washy ? Really?” 

“Sorry,” Suguru said, blushing again. “My mom always says that.” 

“You must really mean it if you’re stealing your mom’s vocabulary.” 

“Whatever,” Suguru groaned as he switched his weight from one foot to the other, evening himself out. “Now tell me what you were gonna tell me.” 

“I can’t remember.” 

“Yes, you can.” 

Satoru laughed. “It’s cringey.” 

“I’m sure it’s fine.” 

Satoru sighed, pretending to collapse on the counter. “I just can’t win with you.” 

“What’s it about?” Suguru asked, ignoring Satoru’s deflections. 

He looked up and raised his eyebrows. “Last night.” 

Suguru regretted his persistence as the delicate peace within him ripped apart. With a racing heart, sweaty hands, and a concerningly-placed pain in his chest, Suguru asked, “What about last night?” 

“We missed a 13th street party, you know?” Satoru said, mindlessly toying with the lemon on his glass again. “This is tragic news.” 

Suguru swallowed three times, still unable to alleviate the sharpness in his throat. “And?” he asked, motioning for Satoru to continue. He was both relieved and disappointed at the topic of conversation. For some reason, he wanted to talk about what happened between them simply because he missed the thrill. The thrill of knowing he was doing something wrong, but having it feel too good to stop. 

“ And , I was wondering if you wanted to go to the New Year’s party with me,” Satoru said, barely able to look Suguru in the eye. Satoru seemed tense, pulled tight like a bow string. “I don’t know why this is so hard for me to ask.” 

Suguru smiled softly at Satoru’s nervousness. “I’m hesitant to go because, you know, nothing good ever happens to me at 13th.” 

“What do you mean?” 

Suguru raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?” 

Satoru gave him a sympathetic smile. “I know Halloween wasn’t the best for you, even though you won’t tell me why ,” he said, pausing to give Suguru an opportunity to elaborate before eventually continuing. “And also, whatever happened back in August when you were hiding by the bonfire-” 

“Must we rehash this?” Suguru asked, slightly frustrated. 

“I'm just saying that I have no idea what happened back then, and I would love for you to tell me.” 

“It doesn’t matter now.” 

Satoru huffed. “It matters enough .” 

“Do you really want me to tell you?” 

“ Yes ,” Satoru pleaded, eagerness in his voice. “Whatever it is won’t change anything.” 

Deep down, Suguru knew that wasn’t true. It would change everything . In retrospect, Suguru should’ve known the night his eyes lingered a little too long on Satoru in bed with a girl. He should’ve known from the way he’d fantasized about Satoru’s moans, his tense back, twitching and contracting above her. He should’ve known when they’d danced at Homecoming, when they held hands by the pond, when Satoru’s name came out of his mouth while he was kissing someone else. There were so many signs, each one of them Suguru had purposefully ignored. 

“You want me to tell you right now?” Suguru asked. His stomach lurched as he tried to think up a good enough lie. For a moment, he entertained telling him the truth. The real truth.

Satoru glared, obviously getting impatient. “Sugu, it’s okay. Just tell me.” 

Suguru often ruined things for himself, and he knew this conversation was on the same, self-destructive track. He should tell him. Tell him about how often he’d gotten off to thoughts of Satoru, using his mind to transform reminders of friendly caresses into something much stronger. He got hot just thinking about it, forcing his hips into the counter and holding them there. 

“I don’t think I should,” he said eventually. 

“Why not?” 

Suguru sighed and stared down at his fingers, raw from where he’d picked at them so much. He looked back up and met Satoru’s eyes. “It’s all interconnected, you know?” 

“What is?” 

“I don’t know when it started,” Suguru explained, having to look away. “Maybe I’ve always been this way with you, and I’m just now realizing it or something.” 

“If it’s my fault–”

“It’s not your fault,” Suguru interrupted before Satoru could go any further. “It’s my fault.” 

“How?” Satoru asked, his lips parting softly. “How could it possibly be your fault?” 

“ I work myself up, Satoru. I lose control. No one else but me,” Suguru explained, remembering the taste of blood in his mouth as it gushed from his nose. “And I can’t blame you for that.”

“What makes you lose control?” he asked, his face soft and concerned. 

“You do, but it's nothing you can help,” he said, laughing at himself. “ You make me lose control, Satoru. Take last night for example–” 

“The only thing I regret about last night is letting you walk home alone,” Satoru interrupted. “You understand that, don’t you?” 

“When I’m around you, especially in moments like last night, I lose it,” he whispered, almost afraid for Satoru to hear. “ That’s the part I don’t understand. I don’t understand why my body reacts the way it does, and I’ve tried so hard to come up with a logical explanation when there isn’t one.”

A brief flash of relief relaxed Satoru’s face before he hid it away, so quickly, Suguru thought he might’ve imagined it. “Why did you touch me last night, Suguru?” he asked, looking at him from behind the bar. 

“I don’t know,” Suguru admitted, his mouth getting dry, “because I wanted to.” 

“You wanted to,” Satoru said matter-of-factly. “That’s all there is to it, don’t you think?” 

Suguru took a deep breath, wondering how Satoru had managed to tear him apart and sew him back together all in only a moment. “Things would be much simpler if I didn’t want to. But I–I still want to.” 

Satoru pursed his lips and looked away, tapping softly on the counter. Suguru watched his fingers, counting five of his nervous taps before Satoru finally spoke again. “I’m sorry,” he said. “If I had known–” 

“How could you’ve known?” Suguru asked, sighing. He couldn’t look Satoru in the eye anymore. “I don’t want you worrying about this, okay? It’s nothing.” 

“Suguru, you think I don’t notice things, but I do. I saw how you reacted at the party in August, your black eye at Homecoming, your nosebleed on Halloween,” he said, trailing off. “I want to fix it, and I know you won’t tell me how unless I beg you.” 

Every word Satoru said was beautifully placed, melting, freezing, smoothing, and crumbling him all at once. His heart rate slowed and his hands stopped trembling as he looked at Satoru and noticed the quiet storm raging behind his eyes. 

“There’s something between us. I know you’ve felt it because I’ve felt it,” Suguru said, picking at his fingers again. “That’s why I’m scared to go to the parties anymore. Because if I do, then I’m too close to you, and when I’m too close to you, that something becomes everything. And I–it hurts so bad trying to stop myself from giving in.” 

Satoru froze, eyes wide and scared. “What would you call it?” he asked. “The thing between us?” 

“You’re much more than a friend to me, Satoru,” Suguru admitted, careful not to break eye contact no matter how desperately he wanted to. “That’s all I know.” 

However, he knew much more than that. He knew how badly he wanted to kiss Satoru, touch him, and be with him in ways he shouldn’t. He wanted to tell Satoru how he felt, but something blocked him. Whether it be the shame of his own thoughts or the fear of losing Satoru completely, he couldn’t figure it out, but the words ached behind his teeth, begging to be set free regardless of the reason. 

“Will you come with me to the party on New Year’s Eve?” Satoru asked, tentatively reaching out to stop Suguru from picking at his hands. His touch was an easy pressure that dropped Suguru’s shoulders and unclenched his jaw. At the same time, it jolted him, sparking through his veins in hot, lovely pulses. 

“As friends?” Suguru asked, remembering a distant conversation under the ceiling fan days before the Homecoming dance. 

Satoru gave him a knowing smile and traced easy circles over his thumbs. “As whatever you want,” he said.

“That’s intimidating,” Suguru admitted, wanting to lean across the counter and kiss Satoru nice and slow. He imagined tasting the artificial strawberries, and his mouth watered at the thought. 

Satoru’s eyes softened. “No pressure, Sugu,” he whispered. He was still rubbing circles over Suguru’s thumbs and the motion drove him insane, undoing him slowly but surely. “None at all.” 

Despite those words, Suguru felt so much pressure, he feared he might snap. “Okay,” he said, nodding. “But I’m not eating the pineapple or playing stupid games upstairs.” 

“Then where’s the fun?” Satoru asked, grinning. 

Suguru smiled back, noting the relief in Satoru’s eyes. “I think you and I should just sit on the couch, gossip all evening, and sip from our red solo cups that don’t have chunks of highly  concentrated pineapples in them,” Suguru said. 

“You’re hard to please.” 

Suguru closed his eyes for a moment, his mind too distracted with Satoru’s hands over his to concentrate. “Is that your way of agreeing?” he asked. 

Satoru sighed before saying, “Yes, it is.” 

“Great,” Suguru said, choosing to ignore the bubbly feeling in his stomach. “I’m holding you to your word.” 

Satoru shrugged. “That’s not a problem.” 

“We’ll see about that,” he said as he pulled his hands away, checking to see if Satoru’s fingerprints were singed into his skin. 

. . .

Even though Suguru hadn’t been to 13th street since Halloween, it was still the same old shithole. The same bass-heavy music. The same weed smell mixed with candied vape smoke. The same sticky floor illuminated by cheap LED lights. The same crowd of North High students whose names slipped through Suguru’s fingers like avoidant snowflakes. 

“Happy New Year, Sugu,” Satoru said for probably the fourth time that night, downing another strawberry seltzer. 

“You really have a taste for strawberry things, don’t you?” he asked, ignoring Satoru’s sentiments. 

He gave Suguru a drunken smile and looked him over. “I guess I do.” 

They were sitting on an old couch by the tarp-clad staircase with their knees touching, body heat mingling through worn denim. Satoru leaned back into the cushions, his face illuminated in alternating blues, oranges, reds, and purples, and Suguru couldn’t help but stare, mesmerized by the beauty of him. 

“What’s your New Year’s resolution?” Satoru asked, waking Suguru from his daze. “And yes, you do have one because I’m making you.” 

Suguru laughed, taking a leisurely sip of his pineapple drink. He may have snuck in a piece of fruit or two without telling Satoru. Turns out, he actually kind of liked them, and not only that, he enjoyed getting drunk, especially with Satoru. The alcohol fizzled away his apprehension, allowing him to let go. 

“I don’t know right now. You’ll have to give me some time to think about it.” 

“Today is the last day you could possibly think about it.” 

“I still have,” Suguru slurred, checking the time on his phone. “An hour and ten minutes.” 

Satoru laughed at the intoxication in his voice, eyeing Suguru’s red solo cup. “You ate the pineapple, didn’t you?” 

“ No. ”

“Are you drunk, then, Sugu?” Satoru asked as he placed his arm around the back of the couch. “Because you seem drunk.” 

“Maybe a little bit,” he said, a laugh bubbling in his chest. “Not enough to forget myself, though.” 

“Have you ever been that drunk before?” Satoru asked, raising his eyebrows. 

“Yes.” 

Satoru grinned, manspreading on the couch. “When?” 

“That one time I drooled on your dash,” Suguru admitted, shivering at the memory, “And Halloween this year.” 

Satoru snaked his arm around Suguru’s shoulder, hugging him close. It took all of his remaining sober thoughts to convince himself it meant nothing special. Satoru was a touchy drunk, and he’d known that for a long time. “ Halloween ,” Satoru mused. “Do you remember dancing with me that night?” 

Suguru nodded. “Yes.” 

“Would you dance with me like that right now?” 

Suguru smiled, unable to sustain his glare. “You promised me we’d sit on the couch, remember?” 

Satoru glared. “Says the person who ate the pineapple,” he accused, pointing a finger at Suguru. “Promises are made to be broken anyway.” 

Suguru snorted, needing to divert the conversation away from pineapple talk. “I think I know what your resolution should be,” he said, laughing at himself. 

Satoru smiled lazily, leaning farther into Suguru. “What?” 

“Keeping all your promises, no matter how shallow they may be.” 

Satoru huffed, playing with the ends of Suguru’s hair. 

“If you get to pick my resolution, I should pick yours,” he said. 

“Deal.” 

Satoru grinned, his eyes softening. “You have to get a new cat this year. That’s your resolution.” 

“Okay,” Suguru said, shrugging. “Sounds like a good resolution.”  

Satoru raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Really? I thought there’d be an argument over Mimi’s memory.” 

“Mimi wouldn’t want me to be sad forever,” Suguru reasoned. “Besides, I like having something to take care of, you know?” 

“I’ll get you one for your birthday,” Satoru said, still playing with the ends of Suguru’s hair. “Can I name it?” 

“That might be too soon, but yeah, you can name it,” Suguru promised. “Nothing stupid, though, okay?” 

“Nothing stupid,” he repeated. “Got it.” 

Suguru took another sip of his drink, savoring the effects. He felt looser, easing himself into Satoru's touch. The lightheadedness felt good, almost addicting, as the alcohol-induced heat warmed his chest, somehow making him want Satoru even more than usual. 

Satoru downed the rest of his fourth seltzer, maybe his fifth, and got up from the couch. “Do you want another one?” he asked, raising his eyebrows at Suguru’s empty cup. 

“No,” he said, closing his eyes. The blackness made him dizzy, so he opened them again, smiling at Satoru. “Don’t go. We were supposed to gossip, remember?” 

Satoru laughed and obeyed, sitting back down. “What would you like to gossip about, Sugu?” 

“You.” 

“Me?” 

“Yeah,” Suguru said, leaning his head against the back of the couch. He watched Satoru out of the corner of his eye and smiled in amusement. He didn’t know why he was taking the conversation in the direction he was, but he couldn’t stop. A mixture of jealousy, curiosity, infatuation, and slight intoxication forced him to continue. 

“There’s nothing I’ve done that deserves to be gossiped about,” Satoru said. 

Suguru scoffed, stifling a laugh. “Oh, yeah, there is.” 

“Like what?” 

“Ghost Boy,” he said, smirking. 

Satoru’s eyes widened, his mouth slightly agape. “I shouldn’t have told you about that.” 

“Why not?” Suguru asked through his laughter. He remembered the circumstances of that conversation and the vivid images that had plagued him ever since. For some selfish reason, he wanted to know more about Satoru’s “relationship” with Ghost Boy. Not because he actually wanted to know but because… well, maybe he actually did want to know. 

“It’s very interesting information, don’t you think?” Suguru continued, smirking. “Was he good?” 

“It didn’t mean anything-” 

“But you liked it, didn’t you?” Suguru said, noting how red Satoru’s face was. “Did he swallow or–” 

“Suguru, can we not talk about this?” 

Suguru grinned. He liked getting under Satoru’s skin, obsessed with how hot it made him feel. He placed a hand on Satoru’s thigh against better judgment and rubbed up and down his jeans. Satour tensed as Suguru followed the muscle lines with his fingers. 

“Tell me what he did to you,” Suguru said, knowing he’d regret it later. “Tell me how good it felt.” 

“It doesn’t matter now,” he said, anxiously bouncing his knee. 

Suguru applied pressure on his leg, forcing him to still. “Do you remember that evening before the Homecoming dance? When you said you liked someone else?” he asked, his gaze meeting Satoru’s. “It was Ghost Boy, wasn’t it?” 

Satoru’s pupils were blown over, and his white hair was changing color with the lights. The only thing Suguru could focus on was the way his lips parted, closed, and parted again in hesitation before he finally answered. “No, it wasn’t.” 

“It’s okay if it was,” Suguru assured, too drunk to notice the seriousness in Satoru’s voice. “He may’ve been a benchwarmer, but who am I to judge, right? Besides, not that I would know, but one decent blow job might be enough to make some people fall in love–” 

“I’m not in love with Ghost Boy, alright? That’s crazy,” Satoru said, his eyes glued to Suguru’s hand on his thigh, slowly moving up, teasing, and then moving back down. He let out a deep sigh, not unlike his breaths from the other night. “Sugu, what are you doing?” 

He grinned, applying more pressure with his palm. “Is this what Ghost Boy did to get you hard?” Suguru said, leaning closer. The strawberry smell on Satoru’s breath carbonated the air between them, bubbling and popping against Suguru’s skin. “He touched you like this, didn’t he?” Suguru felt confident as Satoru fidgeted on the couch. His hand twitched. His breaths were short and uneven. His face was flushed, and it only encouraged Suguru to keep going, possessed by something he couldn’t even describe. 

“Since we’re both drunk, do you really think this is a good idea?” Satoru asked through his breathlessness. 

Suguru smiled. “Were you drunk when Ghost Boy was sucking you off, or did it all happen while you were sober?” 

“Suguru–” 

“Just answer the question,” Suguru said, not bothering to care if anyone saw what he was doing as he slipped his hand away from Satoru’s thigh and positioned it between the couch and his lower back. His arm wrapped around his waist and toyed with the hem of his shirt. 

“I was sober,” Satoru sighed.  

“Was he?” 

“Yes.” 

Suguru grinned as his fingertips lightly brushed the skin underneath Satoru’s t-shirt. He’d been dying to touch Satoru like this for a long time, and now that he was, he needed more . Not just a sensual caress through denim jeans or a brave graze of fingertips. Certainly not a tentative hand through unbrushed hair or a gentle press against a collarbone. It was a desperate need to be as close as possible. Breath minging, lips touching, hands roaming… Suguru wanted it all. 

“ Fuck , Sugu,” Satoru said, leaning his head against the back of the couch. “You’re killing me right now.”

The song slowed and the crowd noise quieted as Suguru leaned over to whisper in his ear. “What am I to you, Satoru? I know I’m not just your best friend.” 

“No,” he said. “You’re definitely not just my friend.” 

Through a haze of desperation, Suguru decided on what to say next. His forbidden thoughts won, standing triumphant as the words came out of his mouth, hot and jealous on his tongue.  “Would you let me do what Ghost Boy did to you?” Suguru asked, his lips grazing the shell of Satoru’s ear. “Would you do it to me?” 

At those words, Satoru pulled away, taking all the warmth with him. “I can’t handle this, Sugu,” he said, running his hands through his hair. “You can’t just say those kinds of things.” 

Suguru crashed, the delicate stack of courage toppling in his chest. His heart fell with it, coating his ribs and pooling in the pit of his stomach. His hand burnt from touching Satoru so much, too much. It hurt , and he knew the only way to relieve it was to touch Satoru again and again and again until–

“Why not?” Suguru asked, swallowing hard. 

“Because when you say them, I believe them,” he said, taking a deep breath. He got up to leave, backing away toward the tarp. “And I know you don’t actually mean them.” 

Suguru stood up too, his vision spinning as the blood rushed from his head. “Satoru, you have no idea how much I mean it, how desperately I want it–” 

Satoru grabbed Suguru’s wrists and pulled him through the tarp. 

The noise from the party dampened as they left, stepping over sleeping drunks, past a couple making out, and two guys smoking, everyone too preoccupied to recognize them. Flashing LED lights leaked from underneath the tarp and illuminated the dim hallway. 

Suguru recognized the doors. They passed the one he’d opened in August, the memories forcing themselves into his mind, until they reached the door Suguru knew was the bathroom. Satoru tried the handle, sighing in relief when it opened. 

He switched on the dim light and closed the door, turning to face Suguru. His eyes were still dilated. They flicked up and down Suguru’s frame, lingering on his waist, his neck, and his lips before returning to his eyes again. 

Satoru sighed to ground himself. Years of unspoken feelings materialized in strawberry fog on his breath, sweet and dizzying in the stuffy bathroom. “Earlier, you asked me if Ghost Boy was the person I wanted to go to the Homecoming Dance with,” he whispered, taking a small step forward. He was close now, the smell of pleasant cologne, strawberry candy, and seltzer making Suguru’s lightheadedness even worse. “He wasn’t , because I wanted to go with you.” A knowing moment of silence passed, filled with heavy breathing, dampened party music, and Suguru’s raging heartbeat. “And when we played Seven Minutes, I wanted to draw your name. And every time you touch me, whether it be an innocent moment of friendship, whatever that was downstairs, or simply an accident, I…” he trailed off, pursing his lips in nervousness. 

Suguru begged him with his eyes to keep going. Satoru’s words ached deep in his chest, shot sparks through his fingertips, and made his head spin, float, and explode all at once. He wanted to steal them from the air and force them through his ribs, keeping them there with the butterflies only Satoru could evoke.

“What are you going to do now, Satoru?” Suguru asked with his back against the sink, his hands gripping tightly to the counter. 

Satoru placed his hands over Suguru’s, wrapping sure fingers around his wrists. “Is this okay?” he asked, rubbing the sensitive skin on the inside of Suguru’s wrists. 

“Yes,” Suguru whispered, Satoru’s breath sticking to his skin. It made his mind reel with forbidden thoughts, and he wondered if that was the right name for them anymore. He wanted them, bending desperately to their will. 

Satoru smiled and positioned his knee between Suguru’s legs. “And this?” 

Suguru let out a deep breath and tilted his head back. “Yes,” he said again, shivering as Satoru’s hands slid up his arms. His thumbs pressed gently into Suguru’s skin and dragged across the slight bend in his elbow, slipping underneath the sleeve of his t-shirt. 

“Are you sure it’s okay?” Satoru asked, sliding his hands back down only to place them on Suguru’s thighs instead. “You’re shaking.” 

“Am I?” Suguru asked, hardly recognizing his own voice. “I hadn’t noticed.” 

Satoru laughed, his sweet breath warm against Suguru’s neck as he leaned closer. “Tell me if it’s too much, alright?” he whispered, moving his hands upward. 

Suguru didn’t know what to focus on, realizing he couldn’t focus at all. Satoru’s breath was on his neck. His hands explored underneath Suguru’s t-shirt and rested delicately on his waist. The knee between his legs applied pleasant pressure, and Suguru fought the urge to grind against him, having to grip the counter to stop himself. 

“Do you want me to kiss you here?” Satoru said against his neck. 

“Yes,” Suguru said for the third time, surprised at the frailty of his own voice. 

Suguru let out a low sigh as Satoru left slow, delicate kisses along his neck and up his jaw. The hands around Suguru’s waist tightened and moved his hips closer, making a painful knot form in the pit of his stomach. He slowly rocked against Satoru’s thigh, finally finding the courage to let go of the counter and touch Satoru with his hands. 

He touched him like he’d always wanted to. Suguru’s hands followed the curve of Satoru’s waist, up his shirt, and across his back. It was almost too much as he slowly traced the bend in Satoru’s spine, the sharpness of his shoulder blades, eventually finding his way to Satoru’s hair. He knotted his fingers in it, a quiet moan escaping his lips as Satoru moved with him. 

“Suguru,” he said on his neck, soft lips against prickled skin. “This feels really good.”  

“I know,” Suguru gasped, reaching down to take off his own shirt. The change in temperature made him shiver for a moment before Satoru’s hands were back on him. He warmed the goosebumps away, only to prickle them up again with practiced caresses. 

It was too much now, but Suguru didn’t want to stop. He reached for the hem of Satoru’s shirt. A light blue static buzzed in his ears, sparked behind his eyes, and infected him all the way to his fingertips and the ends of his toes. It sounded like Satoru, tasted like him, hurt like him. A gnawing ache that made his hips lurch, begging for more of it. 

Satoru slowly dragged his lips from Suguru’s collarbone, up his neck again, under his jaw, and stopped at the corner of his mouth. “Is this okay?” he asked, pressing lightly against the edge of Suguru’s parted lips. 

“Please kiss me, Satoru,” Suguru pleaded, tangling his fingers in Satoru’s hair to pull him back.

Satoru smiled, his eyes brightening. His stare lingered over Suguru’s lips, the redness on his cheeks deepening. “Where?” 

Suguru smiled back and leaned in. “Right here,” he said, grazing his lips against Satoru’s. A valve within him loosened as their lips touched, liquid sugar oozing from Suguru’s skin, coating his bones, and watering his mouth. 

The kiss was sweet and slow, led by Satoru’s practiced lips. His hand fit snugly over the divot in Suguru’s hip, gently massaging it with his thumb, while the other found Suguru’s hair and tangled itself there. The soft click of their lips made Suguru’s head spin as Satoru's tongue swiped across his bottom lip, testing the waters. Suguru exhaled into Satoru’s mouth, moaning softly as his tongue felt out Suguru’s teeth. 

Satoru’s fingers in his hair, his thumb slightly under the waistband of his jeans, his tongue in his mouth… Suguru lost himself in the caresses, unable to focus on just one. Eventually, the feeling of Satoru’s mouth beckoned to him more than all the others, hot and wet against him. 

Suguru slowly dragged his tongue along the roof of Satoru’s mouth. Satoru gasped and kissed him deeper. They broke away for breathy intermissions, finding each other's lips again, hungrier each time. Suguru writhed against Satoru as waves pulsed through him. The motion made Satoru smile into their kiss, running his hands over the curve of Suguru’s chest before he slid his knee upward and met Suguru halfway. 

Suguru was pulled taut like harp strings, tightening and tightening as if he might snap. Satoru tightened him further as he dragged his tongue across the underside of Suguru’s, feeling out his teeth again. His hands were charged, electrifying Suguru’s bare chest with gnawing desperation. 

It was beyond too much now. Suguru was spilling, snapping, melting, tearing at his seams. His heart liquified in the pit of his stomach and pounded there, drowning out everything else. Satoru’s voice echoed through the heartbeat in his ears, soft moans swallowed into Suguru’s mouth. 

“ Fuck , I’m gonna come in my pants if we don’t stop,” Satoru gasped as he forced himself to pull away, a string of saliva connecting their lips for a moment. He rested his forehead against Suguru’s as they breathed into each other's mouths. 

Suguru wrapped his arms around Satoru’s neck and raked his fingers through his hair, leaning in to kiss him, slow and gentle. “Sorry,” he whispered against Satoru’s lips. “I just…” He wanted to say something else, but he couldn’t stop kissing Satoru long enough to say it. He gave him every kiss he’d been repressing, all of them foaming to the top and boiling him over. 

Soon enough, they were moving against each other again, bending and unbending in a sweet, sensual rhythm. It left Suguru panting as his heartbeat roared in his ears. White hot flashes exchanged between them, sparking and crackling each time their bare chests touched. Suguru swore he could feel Satoru’s heartbeat too as it traveled through double layers of skin and muscle to reach him. 

It was so deafening, Suguru didn’t hear the knock at the bathroom door. It was so blinding, he didn’t even see it open. It didn’t matter until it did. 

“Shit!” A girl’s voice. 

Satoru’s head snapped around and locked eyes with her… with Hina . 

She lingered in the doorway, her hand sliding down the cheap, wooden frame. Her eyes widened as she smiled in disbelief, flicking from Suguru’s shirt on the floor, his hair ran through, and his lips red and puffy. 

“Lock the door next time, Suguru,” she said, giggling as she closed it behind her. 

Suguru grabbed his shirt from the floor and slipped it back on, realizing he hadn’t breathed since she’d opened the door. He crashed, bottoming out and sinking further. He faced the mirror and watched his chest heave, flushed skin stretching against his ribs. Satoru’s reflection was beside his. Suguru watched him pull at his hair and purse his lips. 

“Suguru,” Satoru said, his voice panicked. “What are you thinking right now?” 

Suguru stared at his own reflection, watching as a drop of blood leaked from his nose and dripped over his lips. “I think I need to go,” he whispered. 

“She won’t tell anyone–” 

“How do you know that?” Suguru asked, dabbing his face with his fingers. The blood was warm and red as it filled the lines in his fingerprints. 

“I don’t, but–” 

“I’m sorry, Satoru. I just…” he spun around as the blood started to stream. “It’s real now, you know?” 

“What is?” 

“What we just did. It’s not some forbidden fantasy anymore,” Suguru explained, his breaths long gone. “It’s real. ”

Satoru seemed hurt as he watched the blood. He grabbed a towel from the hanger and handed it to Suguru. “What are you saying?” 

“I think I need to go,” Suguru repeated, letting the towel soak itself red. “If she hadn’t opened the door, who knows what would’ve happened–” 

“Isn’t that what you wanted?” Satoru asked, almost pleading. “It’s what I wanted.” 

“I don’t know,” Suguru said quietly and truthfully. 

Satoru let out a broken sigh, his eyes watering. “You don’t know ? How can you say that after what just happened?” 

Suguru’s thoughts choked him, dried his mouth, and stung his eyes. “I’m scared, Satoru,” he admitted, almost against his will. “Everything is happening all at once, and I just–I don’t know what to do with it.” 

“Let’s go home,” Satoru said, grabbing Suguru's hand. He pressed it lightly against his lips, desperate to keep Suguru from spiraling. “We can go to my house and–”

“I’m sorry, Satoru, but I don’t trust myself to be around you right now,” Suguru said, pulling his hand away despite every cell in his body begging him not to. “We stopped before we had anything big to regret, but I won’t be able to stop myself again.” 

Satoru sighed, flexing his hands at his sides. “What’s to regret?” he asked, pain in his voice. 

“You know what,” Suguru said, mostly because he didn’t want to explain it out loud.  

“No, I don’t,” Satoru said. He looked as if he might cry, a panicked paleness stealing his blush away. “ Please , don’t do this to me, Suguru. Don’t do this to me.” 

“We have a chance to undo it, so maybe–” 

Satoru let out a broken laugh, pacing around the small bathroom. “We can’t undo anything . Is it really so easy for you to just forget about it?” 

“No,” Suguru said, choking on the word. “I just–I don’t understand why I–” 

“I thought you meant it,” Satoru said in disbelief. “You told me you meant it.” 

“I just need some time,” Suguru said gently, pulling the bloody towel away from his face. He inspected it, the blood stains blurring across his vision, only making the lump in his throat sharper. The words he said next were unfiltered. Like warm blood oozing from his nose, he couldn’t stop it. “I’ve never felt that way before, and I know if I feel that way again, I’ll fall in love with you. And I’m terrified to do that.” 

Satoru’s face fell, his lips parting. “Suguru–”  

“You don’t have to say anything,” he said, walking to the door. He reluctantly placed his hand on the handle before turning back to face Satoru. “Honestly, I don’t think I want you to say anything.” 

“Are you leaving by yourself? Again ?” 

“I’m sorry, Satoru,” Suguru whispered, trying to keep the tears away until he was alone. He opened the door and lost himself in the crowd. 

Amid his moments with Satoru, midnight had struck, fireworks, popping champagne bottles, and mindless cheers echoed around him. He had tunnel vision for the exit, pushing past groups of strangers sharing meaningless kisses. He was tempted to join them, kiss a random stranger just to see if he could feel the same with someone else. Someone who wasn’t his best friend. Someone who was less complicated. He decided against it, opting to walk home instead. 

About two blocks from his house, he realized that he had lied to Satoru. He was already in love with him. He didn’t need a “next time” to know.

Chapter Text

Suguru was sick when he woke up the next morning. His head was pounding, his mouth was dry, and his eyes were half-swollen shut.

His first moment of consciousness was far too short. A blink later and he was remembering everything . He buried his face in his pillow and let out a frustrated sigh, unable to keep the memories at bay. His heart sped up, making him sweat despite the chill of his bedroom. Suguru turned on his side and grabbed his phone, shocked to see it was past noon. Even more so when he realized he had no notifications. Satoru hadn’t texted him, but what else should he have expected?

He hated himself for entertaining the idea of him and Satoru together. The possibility that it would all be the same, normal even, was so far out of the question, yet he had allowed himself to hope for it. Satoru was his best friend. They couldn’t be together, not in that way, but at this point, it might’ve been too late. Suguru was long gone, too in love with Satoru to just let it be anymore. Despite every attempt to stop it from happening, it had. His lips still tasted sweet with the reminder of Satoru’s strawberries, and still, it wasn’t enough. 

He had stopped it before it went too far, or, rather, Hina had stopped it. Everything was coming to a head, all of it building within Suguru like flames. He remembered Bug Boy and got angry at him for being so right. 

Suguru didn’t know exactly why he dialed Satoru’s number. There were a multitude of reasons, but they all boiled down to his own selfishness. He wanted to hear Satoru’s voice, see his face, and be with him long enough to forget last night and its consequences. 

Before he could change his mind, he hit the call button, taking a deep breath each time it rang. It rang 1… 2… 3 times before Satoru answered, his voice hungover and nervous. 

“Sugu?” 

“Uh, hey,” Suguru said, realizing he should’ve scripted himself beforehand. “Where are you?”

“Home. Why?” 

He took another deep breath, his words stuck in his throat. “I just wanted to see you. That’s all.” Suguru wished he could see Satoru’s face, needing to gauge his emotions from more than just his voice. 

“Really?” he asked, almost whispering. 

Suguru squeezed his eyes shut, trying desperately to come up with something to say, anything . 

“Sugu?” Satoru said, sighing into the phone. “Are you still there?” 

“Yeah, uh, would you like to come over?” he asked, cringing at the sound of his own voice. He was desperate, and it showed. 

“You want me to?” 

“Yes,” he said. “I think we should talk.” 

A long, agonizing pause. “Yeah, we should.” 

“So you’ll come over?” he asked, clutching the phone close to his ear. 

Satoru laughed, brief yet genuine. “I’ll be there in ten, okay?” 

“Okay.” 

He sighed into the phone before saying, “It’s alright, Sugu. No need to be nervous. It’s me."

“I know. I just can’t help it.” 

He laughed again. “Ten minutes and I’ll be there.” 

“Okay,” Suguru said again, restlessly pressing his tongue against his teeth. 

“Okay,” he repeated. “I’m going to hang up now.” 

Suguru squeezed his eyes shut in both embarrassment and relief. He was going to see him soon enough, his body thrumming with anticipation. It remembered what it was like to be touched by Satoru, every nerve begging to be touched like that again. 

“Yeah. Bye, Satoru,” he said, breathless even thinking about it. 

Another brief pause filled with heavy, unspoken sentiments. “Bye, Sugu.” 

. . . 

Suguru went to the swing set despite the cold. His gloveless hands froze against the metal chains, and his breath materialized, fogging the air only to dissipate a moment later. He waited for Satoru, dragging his feet across the frozen, dead grass with each swing. 

Absentmindedly, his eyes found Mimi’s grave. He smiled to himself as fond memories of her eased his nerves. He wondered what she would think of his affections towards Satoru, no doubt disapproving. 

As if reading his mind, the porch screen door opened, and Satoru’s white hair caught his eye. Suguru watched him approach, every word he’d rehearsed combusting the moment their eyes met. Satoru’s hands were in his pockets and his steps were sure as he walked to his pre-assigned swing. When he sat down, eyes peering, Suguru started to sweat, droplets pooling in his hoodie. 

“How did you know I’d be out here?” Suguru asked, almost too quiet. 

“I just know you that well,” Satoru said, gently watching him from the swing. “And your mom told me where to find you.” 

Suguru breathed a laugh, smiling at the normalcy. It wasn’t long though, maybe a second or two, before the atmosphere became dense with silent confessions. 

“Satoru,” Suguru said, the name like sugar on his lips. “I knew exactly what I was going to say before you got here, but now…” 

“Now, what?” he said, but there was no malice in his voice. He was quiet and sweet, bracing himself for heartbreak. 

Suguru sighed, his eyes glued to his feet on the grass. “That’s the question, isn’t it?” 

“Suguru, can you… look at me for a second?” Satoru pleaded. “Just for a second.” 

At those words, Suguru’s head snapped up, finding Satoru’s eyes again. They were more blue than usual. “Sorry,” Suguru whispered, watching as Satoru seemed to relax. 

“It’s alright. I just want to make sure you really hear me.” 

Suguru only nodded, waiting for him to continue. He was angry at himself for not having the courage to speak, simply because he felt it would kill him. Telling Satoru would make it all real. His parents would know, everyone would. And, the worst part of it all, Satoru would have him. Have him until he realized he could do so much better. 

“Last night was amazing for me,” Satoru said, tightening his grip on the chains. “And I want you to know that it’s the best I’ve ever felt with anyone like that before. And it–it hurt me when you left.” 

“I shouldn’t have left,” Suguru admitted, Satoru’s words making him float out of himself. “I didn’t realize you felt that way–”

“I’ve always felt that way with you,” he said. “For a very long time.” 

The questions came out of his mouth before he had the chance to police them. “Then why be with Ghost Boy? Why all the girls?” 

“Because…” he said, trailing off. He seemed hurt by the questions, and Suguru cursed himself for asking them, not wanting to break Satoru’s heart anymore than he already had. “I was trying to find something that could scratch the itch, you know?” he continued, sighing deeply. “For the longest time, I didn’t want it to be you, because I needed our friendship more than any of that.” 

Ignoring the lump in his throat and the shake in his hands, Suguru asked, “And now?” 

“After kissing you last night and everything else, I don’t think I can just scratch the itch anymore, Sugu. I want you . There are no replacements. There are no distractions.” 

He swallowed, trying to keep his butterflies down. He wanted to kiss Satoru right there on the swings, dip his chin upward and bring their lips together, kissing him until he couldn’t anymore. 

“It scares me to know that,” Suguru said, his voice weak and unsure. “Because now that I do, I won’t be able to forget about it.” 

“You want to forget about it?” Satoru scoffed, his chest shuddering. He gripped tightly to the chains, turning his knuckles white. “How do you feel about me, Suguru? Like really feel? No pressure, no alcohol, just me and you.” 

Suguru’s heart came up his throat, closing it off. “I don’t know if I should say it out loud,” he whispered, his breaths long gone. Every time he tried to inhale, the strawberry smell infected him, warming his blood so much it hurt.  

“When I was kissing you in the bathroom, what did you feel for me?” he asked, ignoring Suguru’s apprehension. His grip on the chains tightened again as his eyes begged for answer. 

“I can’t describe it,” Suguru said, trying to side-step the truth. His mind lingered on the intimacy between them, embracing the memory. It was recreated in a split second, tender kisses and hungry caresses making his stomach lurch with the desire to do it again. 

“Try to describe it,” Satoru said, his voice shaking. “You have such a beautiful way of describing things and I–I just want to know.” 

Suguru sighed, having to look away despite Satoru’s past request. “My body still burns, you know?” he sighed, so afraid to say it. “It’s taking everything in me not to kiss you right now.” 

“Then kiss me, Sugu,” Satoru dared, the air between them electrifying. It made Suguru's lips part against his will. “ Please .” 

Suguru looked at him, his heart hiccupping in his throat. “If I kiss you, I won’t be able to stop.” 

“Then don’t stop.” 

It took every last bit of self control not to bring his lips to Satoru’s when his entire body pulsed with a desperate need to do the opposite. 

“Let’s say I kiss you again,” Suguru mused. “Then what happens after that, huh? I have to face my parents, the school, the team , and then, if this doesn’t work out between us, then I’ve lost a lover and my best friend all at once.” 

“You can’t know if that’ll ever happen–” 

“And you can’t know that it won’t happen,” Suguru said, his ribs collapsing on his lungs. “Sometimes it's better to just… let things stay the same.” 

“Suguru, I don’t think you understand what I’m saying,” Satoru said, pleading. His grip on the chains tightened again, his fingertips numb-red from the cold. “All my cards are on the table now. Do what you want with them, but I can’t live knowing my love for you is unrequited.” 

Unrequited . The word stabbed Suguru deep, warm blood seeping from his chest and soaking into the dead grass. He wondered, even after trying desperately to make Satoru stay, he was pushing him away even further, likely to lose him either way. 

“I don’t know what's right, Satoru,” he said eventually, the wind starting to pick up. “But please know that your love isn’t unrequited. Not at all–” 

“Suguru, please , don’t do this to me,” he said, the words full of hurt. His hands shook from his hold on the chain, his palms jutting against the rusted metal. “Don’t dangle it in front of my face like this.” 

“Just give me some time to figure it out, okay?” Suguru begged, watching Satoru’s saddened breaths materialize in the wind. “I’m just confused and–” 

Satoru’s hand slipped down the chain, and Suguru heard his skin tear. His eyes shot over, watching Satoru’s face pale as redness bloomed from the cut in his palm. " Fuck ," Satoru whispered.

“Are you alright?” Suguru asked on instinct. 

He shook his head, his face paling further. “I hate blood,” he murmured, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“You handle my nosebleeds just fine.”

“My fear is overwhelmed by my intense desire to help you,” he said, laughing sadly at himself. “Not so much when I’m the one bleeding.” 

Suguru got up from the swing. “Let’s go inside. I’ll clean it off before you have time to pass out.” 

Satoru laughed weakly. “Does this mean we’ll be alone together in a bathroom again?” he asked, following Suguru back to the porch.

“Now you’re making me think you cut yourself on purpose,” Suguru said, smiling dryly as they walked inside. The banter was gentle, a stark contrast from their previous conversation. Despite this, Suguru was nervous, his mind juggling too many feelings at once. 

“I wouldn’t go that far… not yet anyways,” Satoru said, sighing as he followed Suguru into the bathroom. 

Suguru didn’t close the door, mostly on purpose. He didn’t trust himself at all, knowing he’d made the right decision when he saw how close they were going to be. He spun around and examined Satoru’s hand, careful not to meet his eyes quite yet. He’d have to build up to it, needing to calm down first. 

“It’s not too bad,” he said, tossing Satoru a spare towel before turning to the cabinet. 

“If you’re going to put rubbing alcohol on it, I’ll be forced to kick and scream,” Satoru said, his breath picking up when he realized what Suguru was looking for. 

“I’m sure you can handle it,” Suguru said, cringing in sympathy as he pulled out the brown plastic bottle. “It’s just a little sting.” 

“More like a third degree burn.” 

Suguru rolled his eyes and soaked some alcohol into a paper towel, beckoning for Satoru to lend his hand. “Would you rather have an infection?” 

Satoru frowned, reluctantly giving him his hand. “Once you’re done, you have to kiss it better.” 

“Not happening.” 

“But, Sugu, this is a great ordeal for me and–” Satoru got cut off by the stinging in his palm, cringing as Suguru dabbed up and down the cut. It wasn’t exceptionally deep, but it was long, interrupting his palm lines with jagged, premature scabs. 

“Are you okay?” Suguru asked with concern, dabbing it again with a dry paper towel before applying a bandage. It soaked up the blood, reminding him of his nosebleeds. 

“Yeah, I was just trying to make you laugh,” Satoru said, watching as Suguru’s hand lingered a little too long. “But you didn’t seem too amused…” he stalled when Suguru started to massage his hand, dragging lazy touches over his fingers. It was almost involuntary, the need to touch Satoru’s skin outweighing any semblance of level headedness he had. Because it wasn’t kissing, Suguru allowed himself to get away with it, savoring the slight hills and valleys in Satoru’s fingerprints. 

They were both holding their breaths, neither one of them daring to speak. It wasn’t until Satoru shivered in the artificial heat of the bathroom did Suguru force himself to let go. 

“Sorry, I just… had to,” Suguru whispered, memorizing the way Satoru’s hands felt. The bandage blocked his usual palm lines, but his basketball calluses were still there, and the bend where his knuckles were, and the little webs between his fingers–

“Suguru,” he said so gently, Suguru had to clench his jaw to release the pressure. “I’m not going to kiss you again until you ask me to, even though I really want to kiss you right now. And I’ll still want to kiss you every waking moment after this.” 

“Okay,” Suguru whispered, so many things flashing through his head. Strawberries… 13th street… pineapple flavoring… the Homecoming dance… Bug Boy… Ren… Satoru’s mother… Seven Minutes… camera flashes… squeaky basketball shoes… favorite colors… the swing set… light blue… gold glitter… Satoru, Satoru, Satoru . “But what if I never ask you?” 

“That would be a tragedy, wouldn’t it?” Satoru said, smiling sadly. “ Or a great testament to your self control. Either way, I lose.” 

“Oh, so you’re making this a competition?” Suguru asked, grinning. “That’s a bad idea on your part.” 

Satoru laughed, holding his injured hand close to his chest. “I was hoping you’d let me win.” 

Suguru smiled, holding back from kissing Satoru right there. “Don’t hold your breath.” 

“I’m quite charismatic, Sugu, I’ll have you begging for a kiss in no time.” 

Suguru laughed, tossing his head back. His stomach hurt from laughing, and he realized that only Satoru could make his stomach hurt in a good way. “I didn’t realize you were that kind of person.” 

Satoru was laughing because Suguru was laughing, managing to pause long enough to ask, “What kind of person?” 

“The one who’s into begging.” 

Satoru finished up his laughing fit long enough to say, “Just promise you won’t tell anyone.” 

“You’re the only person I would tell.” 

Satoru grinned, his eyes flicking to Suguru’s mouth. “That’s a relief,” he said, hesitating a moment before gently pressing his lips to Suguru’s forehead. He kissed him just under his hairline before pulling away, leaving a sweet, invisible imprint there. 

Satoru went home after that, leaving Suguru alone with himself. In his absence, he longed for Satoru, indulging himself in forbidden daydreams to pass the afternoon. 

. . .

It was the last day of winter break, and Suguru found it difficult to keep still. It was too cold outside to do anything, and Satoru was spending the day with his grandfather. Since both of his preferred methods of passing the time were eliminated, he was restless, flipping between dilemmas like pages of a book. 

He still hadn’t chosen a plan for post-graduation. He’d told his parents one thing and Satoru another, but neither of those options seemed plausible. At the request of his parents (mostly Ren), Suguru had applied to three different universities. One was an assured acceptance letter because, let’s be honest, some schools are just that desperate. And the other two were schools his family had talked about since he was born. Either way, he couldn’t bring himself to care which school he went to or if he even went at all. 

However, Satoru was on his mind more than anything else. Again, he found himself flashing through memories and feelings, trying to make sense of them. Maybe, even though he was desperate to find it, there was no logical reason. He loved Satoru. It was simple, unchangeable, honest , and through his efforts to deny himself, Suguru longed for Satoru even more. So much so, it made him antsy, unable to read, watch television, or think long enough to decide what else there was to do. 

Amidst his overthinking, he found himself pacing around the kitchen, filling, downing, and refilling the same glass of water without realizing how unhinged he looked. It wasn’t until his mother called his name did he snap out of his own head, suddenly aware that he hadn’t brushed his hair all day. 

“Suguru,” she said, stalling at the breakfast bar. “You’re acting weird.” 

“What?” he asked, raising his eyebrows at her. “How so?” 

She sighed, fighting her smile. “You’re pacing and drinking water,” she said. “You never drink water.” 

“Yeah, well… there’s not much else to do.” 

“Where’s Satoru?” she asked after a moment. 

“With his grandfather.” 

She only hummed, joining him in the kitchen. “You can hang out with me if you want,” she said, grinning.  

He laughed, placing his glass on the counter. “Sure.” 

“How are you these days, Suguru?” she asked, carefully eyeing him up and down. “You seem… off.” 

“I’m alright,” he said, cringing at himself. If he was being honest, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been alright . There were select moments he felt better than great, perfect even. They only lasted so long before returning him to a familiar sadness, never long enough to change him forever. 

“No offense, but when you start pacing and drinking water , I have my doubts about that,” she said, giving him a sad smile. 

“I just… have a lot on my mind right now.” 

“You can tell me,” she said, staring at him like he meant the world to her. Suguru felt it, washing over him like a warm shower and soaking him deep in his chest. “Maybe you’ll feel better if you do.” 

He knew he shouldn’t tell her the real truth. It was complicated and too much to explain all at once. But, the main reason he feared telling her about Satoru was the look on her face. He loved the way it was now, sweet and open, and he knew that once those words came out of his mouth, her expression would change and never go back to the way it was. 

“Mom,” he whispered. “How did you know that you were in love with my father… or Ren?” 

Her face fell. “Well, I…” she trailed off, her shoulders dropping. “Why are you asking that?” 

“I don’t know. I just–You don’t have to answer. It wasn’t meant to be anything serious–” 

“Suguru,” she interrupted, her voice gentle. “Can I be honest with you?” 

He nodded despite his reluctance. For a moment, he was tempted to tell her to forget about it completely, but his own curiosity forced the words out of his mouth. “Of course.” 

She sighed as if bracing herself. “I never fell in love with your father,” she said, maintaining eye contact with him. “And I never fell in love with Ren, either.” 

Suguru’s lips parted, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “You didn’t?” he asked, too shocked to say anything else. 

“No,” she said, laughing at herself. “I never did.” 

“Why?”

She shrugged. “I’ve never been in love,” she said so sadly, Suguru’s throat tightened. “But once I got to a certain age, I realized for me, stability was more important than love, and I have no regrets about that.” 

“How do you know that you’ve never been in love?” He felt sorry for her, deciding that if anyone deserved to be in love, it was his mother. 

“Well,” she said loosely, almost as if a weight had been lifted. “I’m not saying I didn’t love your father, or Ren for that matter. I just mean that it’s never consumed me like it should.”

“Doesn’t that make you sad?” 

“Sometimes,” she admitted. “But like I said, I have no regrets. Some people never find another person to fall in love with, and Suguru, if you have, I think you should be very careful with them.” 

He took her words and filed them in his mind, hoping to revisit them whenever he needed to. Even after all this time, perhaps his mother understood him more than anyone, always seeing what no one else could and accepting it. Maybe she already knew about Satoru. Maybe she had known even before he had. 

“But how am I supposed to know for sure?” he asked. 

She paused, collecting her words. “It comes down to having the courage to face them. To understand everything they are, even the ugly parts, and keep facing them when you would otherwise turn away.” 

Suguru let those words pierce through him, mixing themselves into his blood. He’d already known he was in love with Satoru. His mother only made him understand how beautiful it was.

Chapter Text

“So… this is of your own free will? You want to do it?” Satoru asked, his voice groggy over the phone. 

Suguru imagined him in his bed with his hair sticking up in all directions, and it made him smile, almost uncontrollably. “Yeah, I just thought it might be a good idea.” 

“In what universe?” 

“It’s the most convenient place to have a conversation with Hina, okay?” 

Satoru sighed, paused for a moment, then sighed again. “But I wanted to drive you,” he complained. “I don’t make you uncomfortable, do I? Because if I do-” 

Suguru let out a fond sigh before interrupting him. “No, it’s nothing like that. I just need to do some damage control.” 

“Your phrasing implies that damage has been done, and I am inclined to disagree.” 

“You know what I mean,” Suguru said, rolling his eyes. “I can’t have Hina spreading it around to Bug Boy.” 

“Bug Boy?” 

“He’s, uh, some guy.” 

Suguru pictured the look on Satoru's face, one of disappointment but not surprise. “You can’t be as bad with names as you let on.” 

“I’m worse, actually.” 

Satoru paused to smile. There was no way Suguru could’ve known that for sure, but he was confident that was the case. “Okay, then. Just… don’t grill Hina too much.” 

“For some reason, I don’t think I’ll have to grill her at all.” 

“Are you gonna tell her how good of a kisser I am?” Satoru asked, a smirk in his voice. 

“ Stop .” 

Satoru groaned. “Am I a bad kisser and you’re not telling me?” 

“I would tell you if you were,” Suguru assured, rolling his eyes. 

“So I was good. I knew it-” 

“I’m changing the topic of conversation now,” Suguru interrupted, smiling into the phone. “I have to go, the bus is on its way.” 

There was another pause, this time weighed with tension. “This is the last time you’ll ride the bus, though, right?” Satoru asked. “I haven’t… ruined our drives to school or anything?” 

“No, of course not.” Suguru promised, wedging the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he packed his school bag. “You can pick me up tomorrow like usual.” 

“Okay, good, because I was prepared to give a long monologue about how I would deep clean the hot chocolate stain out of the passenger seat as collateral.” 

“No need for the monologue. But you should clean the stain anyway because it looks concerning.” 

“Maybe you should clean it,” Satoru argued. “You’re the one who spilled it in the first place.” 

“How many times do we need to have this argument before you realize I’m right?”  

Satoru laughed. “We fight like an old married couple, don’t we?” 

“I have no problem divorcing you.” 

“Are you threatening me?” Satoru asked, appalled. “Must I remind you of the prenup we signed?” 

Suguru grinned, thankful Satoru wasn’t there to comment on his expressions. “I want to see proof of this document.” 

“I love when you talk legal to me, Sugu,” Satoru said. “It’s sexy.” 

“Why do you always have to go there?” Suguru asked, laughing. 

“It’s never on purpose,” he said, a smile in his voice. “I can’t help it.” 

Suguru rolled his eyes as he jogged down the stairs. Despite his upcoming conversation with Hina, he felt calm. He was sure she would understand him, maybe even give some advice. Either that, or she’d already told a bunch of people, which could easily turn into half of North High, then into all of North High, leading to his parents finding out, which would be-

“Uh, Sugu?” Satoru asked. “Are you still there?” 

“Yeah, sorry.” Suguru blinked hard, clearing the fog from his head. There was nothing else he could do now but wait, and he really hated waiting. “The bus will be here in a few minutes. I’ll hang up so you can get out of bed.” 

“I am out of bed.” 

It was a blatant lie, even over the phone. “Bye, Satoru,” he said, smiling when he heard the bed shift under Satoru’s weight. 

There was a hint of laughter in his voice when he answered, newly aware of how obvious he was. “Bye, Sugu. Good luck with Hina.” 

. . .

When Suguru stepped on the bus, the world fell apart. Heads turned toward him, peering eyes found him, and, worst of all, people started laughing, jeering, pointing, gesturing, all of it a menacing display of Suguru’s worst fears. They stole the breath from his lungs, keeping it far out of reach. 

He rushed to his seat and locked eyes with Hina. She raised her eyebrows when she saw him, a look of utter shock slacking her face. “Uh, hey?” she said, moving her knees into the aisle so Suguru could have his window seat. “I thought you retired from the bus.” 

As soon as he sat down, reality hit him. His breath returned and his muscles relaxed. No one was jeering, pointing, laughing, or even looking . It was a normal day. No one cared. No one knew. It was irrational to believe otherwise. He stared at his hands and counted his fingers, making sure they were real before turning to Hina again. Now that she was right in front of him, he was scared, and he wished Satoru was there to dull his edges. 

“I just… needed to talk to you,” he said, looking up. There were times when his anxiety made him lightheaded and dizzy; this was one of those times. “Uh, about the party and everything, you know?” 

She wedged her knees against the seat in front of them and placed her hands in her lap. “I suppose congratulations are in order,” she said, grinning. 

“No way, Hina,” Suguru explained. 13th street memories slipped through his mind, poisoning it with stale embarrassment. “It was a, uh, moment , and I talked to Satoru afterwards and he agreed to-” 

“What are you talking about right now?” she asked, rolling her eyes. “You won. Aren’t you guys official by now?” 

“Of course not,” he emphasized, confused by her reaction. He remembered the party from months ago and the way Satoru’s name had echoed in the closet. He wondered how she could be so understanding after all that. “There’s no way that could ever happen.” 

“Why the fuck not?” 

Suguru’s eyes widened. He hadn’t expected the conversation to go this way, so he lost his words. He swallowed hard, trying to smooth out his unease. “Well… he’s my best friend. It’s not that simple.” 

“It seems pretty simple to me,” she said, shrugging. “He seemed really into you on New Years.” 

He sighed as seeds of doubt sprouted deep within him. He chewed on his lower lip to keep them at bay. Once he started thinking, he often spiraled out of control, and he didn’t need that right now. Not in front of Hina. 

“He told me he wanted us to be together,” he said, using the sound of his own voice to ground himself. 

She only nodded, encouraging him to continue. “I don’t want to ruin our friendship, and he doesn’t understand that,” Suguru said, taking a pause. “He has plenty of other friends besides me, but I have only ever had him. It’s always been that way.” 

“Suguru,” she said, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. He saw understanding in her eyes, and it shocked him. For some reason, he knew she hadn’t told anyone and wasn’t planning on it either. The realization relaxed him, massaging anxious knots from his shoulders. 

“You’re in love with him, aren’t you? What are you going to do when he finds someone else who is willing to admit that to themselves? Don’t you think he deserves better?” she asked. 

“Yes, but-”

“There aren’t any excuses, Suguru. Why waste time dancing around it when you could just love each other?”

He sighed, pursing his lips. “It would never be the same between us. We might still be friends, but it would be different, so different,” Suguru said, the possibility of it all swirling his thoughts around. “I can’t lose our friendship, Hina. I’m too reliant on it. And if I’m suddenly overwhelmed with everything , it’s going to kill me if he’s taken away.” 

She stayed quiet, waiting for him to continue.

“I don’t know what to do,” he whispered, embarrassed with himself. He’d never said any of those words out loud before, and it felt wrong , like he’d poisoned their conversation with them. “Is it really as simple as you make it out to be?” 

She gave him a sad smile and played with her necklace, twirling it on the chain. “It’s not simple, and I was wrong to say it was. But, Suguru, if you’re in love with him, you should be in love with him. Denying those feelings might be the worst thing you could do.” 

“Why’s that?” 

“ Because , once you fall in love for the first time, it’s with all of yourself. And each time after that will always be compared to that very first time, don’t you think?” she asked, glancing away for a second before finding his eyes again. “That’s why you should fight to be with Satoru. He’s your first love. It doesn’t get much better than that.” 

He gave her a slow smile and sagged against the window. “You’re very wise, Hina,” he said, playing it off as a joke. But in reality, her words soaked into him, dissolving the fear from his blood. 

The pieces started to fit as Suguru came to an understanding. He remembered his mother’s words and interwove them with Hina’s. They echoed in his head, circling around Satoru’s name like adoring whispers. He fought the urge to say his name aloud, simply because he wanted to hear it. 

She rolled her eyes. “I’m not joking, you know?” 

“I know,” he said. “When the time’s right, maybe I’ll confess to Satoru.” 

Saying it made his heart race. He imagined Satoru’s reaction and wondered if a confession would be necessary. Satoru probably knew. Had known for a long time now. Or… maybe he didn’t. Maybe he believed his love was unrequited, longing for Suguru all the same. 

“So, you’ll confess later today?” she asked, grinning. 

“Well, I don’t know if today is the right day,” Suguru said, his eyes relaxing. Despite not knowing when to execute it, he had a plan. He was going to tell Satoru because he had to. If he didn’t, it would eat him alive, hollowing him out as much as it pleased. Satoru was in love with him too. Suguru could feel it in the weight of his touches, hear it in the inflections of his voice, see it in the gentleness of his eyes. With the image of him in his mind, Suguru wondered if Satoru might’ve loved him more. He stopped the thought, realizing that would’ve been impossible. 

“You can rehearse your confession with me if it’ll make you feel more confident,” Hina said, noticing the nervousness on Suguru’s face. “It wouldn’t be the first time you pretended I was Satoru–” 

“Oh, shut the fuck up,” he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. “Why would you say that?” 

She threw her head back in laughter. The sound was a pastel yellow, the same as Suguru remembered. It made him laugh too, further calming him as North High appeared through the morning fog. 

He met Satoru in biology class, unable to keep his eyes off of him long enough to pay attention. It was worse than usual. So much worse. 

. . .

Later that week, Suguru still hadn’t confessed to Satoru, mainly because he hadn’t found the right time. Basketball had occupied all their moments as the season came to a close. Suguru wanted to say it was an abnormally sudden ending, but basketball ended as it had every year. Except this time, it wouldn’t be starting up again. 

“How are we going to pass the time now?” Satoru asked, leading Suguru through the dark parking lot. “Basketball’s officially over.” 

Suguru groaned, his legs waking up from the long bus ride back from the game. “Can’t we just enjoy the victory for right now?” he asked. “We don’t have to be doing stuff all the time, you know?” 

“I’m just saying that we’re one step closer to graduation now. We should be planning the rest of the year out to the last minute.” 

Suguru glared, using the familiar banter to distract himself from the season-ending bittersweetness. They had won, because of course they had. No one expected anything less. The next time they walked into school together, the fourth championship trophy would be in the case with all the others. It was the last one Satoru would ever win for North High. 

“Aren’t you sad, Satoru?” he asked, leaning against the civic. “It’s all over now. Let me grieve for tonight.” 

Satoru shrugged, taking a moment to watch the rest of the team walk sluggishly to their cars. Suguru realized that he’d probably never speak to them again. At that moment, he felt bad for always forgetting their names. 

It was a little past midnight, yet Satoru seemed wide awake, adrenaline still pumping through his veins. “I’m not sad yet, but I’m sure I will be tomorrow,” Satoru said. “I’m mostly… relieved.” 

“Relieved?” Suguru asked, sliding into the passenger seat. “Why’s that?” 

Satoru started the car and turned up the heater. His music played automatically. The melody was familiar to Suguru, but, much to his frustration, he couldn’t remember the name of the song. 

“I’m relieved, because now that it’s over, the possibility of me disappointing the team, the fans, the coaches, it’s not there anymore.” 

Suguru sighed, his face relaxing. “I didn’t realize you felt so strongly about it. I thought basketball was just for fun.” 

“It was… At least I thought it was,” he admitted, pulling out of the parking lot. “But I guess it meant more to me after all.” 

Suguru smiled, watching Satoru’s face lighten and darken as they drove through an alley of streetlights. “You’re an amazing player, you know?” he said. “I can never hope to be as good as you.” 

“That’s not a fair comparison,” Satoru said, glaring. 

“Why’s that?” 

Satoru leaned back in the driver’s seat with one hand on the steering wheel. He took a deep breath to gather his words. “ Because , if it weren’t for you, I never would’ve tried out in middle school. I only did it to spend more time with you anyway.” 

Suguru’s chest swelled and his butterflies swarmed, fluttering their wings against his rib cage. “That still doesn’t explain why it wasn’t a fair comparison.” 

“There are more things than skill that make someone a good basketball player. I might've had the talent, Sugu, but you had the passion for it. You had the drive and the discipline.” 

“You did too,” Suguru said, noticing the alternate route Satoru was taking. They weren’t going to either of their houses, but he didn’t say anything about it, deciding he’d rather spend more time with Satoru than go home anyway. “Don’t sell yourself short. If you didn’t have the passion, you wouldn’t have felt so much pressure to win all the time.” 

Satoru was quiet for a moment, a realization slacking his features. He glanced over and smiled. “ I had the passion to win, but you had the passion for basketball,” he said. “That’s the difference between us.” 

Suguru nodded, somewhat impressed with Satoru’s words. He saw the truth in them and wished he’d realized it first. “I lost it there at the end, you know?” he admitted, absentmindedly picking at his cuticles. He caught himself and clasped his hands together in an effort to stop. “I just wanted it to be over already."

“Are you glad it’s over?” 

He paused, searching for an honest answer because that’s what Satoru deserved. Honesty . “Partly, yeah.” 

“And partly, no?” 

“Yeah… and partly, no.” 

Satoru sighed, seeming to understand. He drove through familiar, uniform neighborhoods with porch lights illuminating lawns, mailboxes too close to the road, and newly sealed driveways. “Why both yes and no?” 

“I loved basketball,” Suguru admitted. “For a long time, I couldn’t imagine my life without it. Mostly because I used it to feel better about myself, and that worked for a little while. Until it started making me feel worse.” 

“Was that because of me?” Satoru asked as they reached the end of the street. They’d made it to the lake. Suguru recalled the last time they’d been there. His body longed for the heat of late-August and the indifference that accompanied it. 

“I don’t think so,” he said, giving Suguru a gentle smile. “Sometimes, passions just die. That’s how it is.” 

“I would’ve quit if you’d asked me to,” he said, making sure to look Suguru in the eye when he spoke. “I wouldn’t have given it a second thought.” 

“I never would’ve asked that,” Suguru whispered. “ Never .” 

“I know,” Satoru said, smiling as he turned off the car. The song stopped mid-chorus, and Suguru missed it when silence fell over them. “I love you for that, Sugu. I really do.” 

The words lingered between them like sweet butterfly kisses, making his skin tingle and his pupils blow over. “We’re at the lake. Why?” he asked, almost too breathless to get the question out. 

“I didn’t want to go home just yet,” he admitted, staring out at the moonlit water. “Do you remember the last time we were here?” 

“I was just thinking about it actually.” 

“Was it a good memory for you?” he asked, his hand resting on the door handle. “It was for me.” 

“Yeah,” Suguru promised, his gaze fixed on the water. “We should go to the lake shore and pretend it’s summer again.” 

Satoru smiled so wide he was squinting. “Yeah, we should.” 

Suguru followed him into the mid-January cold. He ignored its bite as he linked arms with Satoru, leaning into his warmth. The moon was bright, but it was starting to wane, a nighttime darkness eating it away. They sat together on the sand in silence for a moment as the lake water lapped against the shore. 

On instinct and pure courage, Suguru reached over and grasped Satoru’s hand, interlocking their fingers. Satoru’s light blue poured into him like summer rain, making him forget the cold seeping through his coat or the wind gusting off the lake. 

“Suguru,” he said gently. “Did I upset you when I told you I loved you?” 

“No.” 

“What did you feel?” 

Suguru sighed, resting his head on Satoru’s shoulder. He smelled the strawberries and fought the urge to kiss him. He imagined how their materialized breaths would mingle in their mouths. “I felt the light blue,” he said softly, breathing it in. 

“You did?” he asked, leaning his head against Suguru’s. 

“I did.” 

“What does that mean to you?” 

Suguru squeezed his eyes shut, imagining a summer long gone. “It means everything to me.” 

Chapter Text

Suguru’s birthday was on a Saturday. Aside from breakfast with his mother, he spent the rest of that February day with Satoru. He was glad for the company, needing something to distract him from the fact that he’d turned 18. 

He recalled how Satoru had described the experience, and he worried for himself. He woke up that morning feeling bad . Not in a physical sense, but in a more… psychological sense. His mind spiraled, spinning in rapid, dizzy circles, but, when he looked in the mirror, he was the exact same. Familiar dark eyes stared back at him, yet he felt as though a switch had flipped. There was the Suguru before that morning and the Suguru after, almost as though he’d abandoned himself somewhere distant. 

His mother’s pancakes couldn’t distract him from the feeling, and, most concerningly, he still felt it in Satoru’s presence. He debated telling him about it, but he figured Satoru wouldn’t understand. Despite that, Suguru still wanted him to know. It wasn’t until the sun had set did Suguru feel the desperate need to tell him. It seemed dire, and he knew the only person who could possibly lessen it, if only for a little while, was Satoru. 

“You’re abnormally quiet,” Satoru said, pulling him loosely from his thoughts. “You have been all day.” 

The same song from the other night was playing on the civic’s stereo, but Suguru was too prideful to ask Satoru what it was. “It’s not purposeful,” he promised. “I just can’t stop thinking long enough to talk.” 

Satoru’s face was lit by passing streetlights and neon signs. His eyes were fixed on the road. “It’s your birthday,” he said gently. He placed a hand on Suguru’s knee, applying a simple pressure with the contact. “Aren’t you happy?” 

“I don’t know,” Suguru said, his eyes tracing Satoru’s hand on his leg. His warmth was contagious, bleeding through Suguru’s jeans and spreading across his skin. “I’m happy to be with you .” 

“That’s such a nice compliment, Sugu, and I’ll treasure it for the rest of the night,” Satoru said, taking a pause. He continued, more softly now, “But aren’t you happy it’s your birthday ?” 

“Well…” Suguru couldn’t finish his thought, overrun with Satoru’s gentle touches and his pretty voice. It lessened the dread and fueled the desire like a flickering candle flame in the pit of his stomach. 

“ Well ?” Satoru pressed. “Well what?” 

Suguru huffed, staring anxiously out the window. He had no idea where they were going, but he wasn’t worried about that part. Anything with Satoru would be perfect enough.

“Well, I need to talk to you about something, but I’m afraid I’ll ruin the mystery activity,” Suguru said, tearing his gaze away from the window.

“You’d never ruin the mystery activity,” he assured, taking his hand away to make a left turn. Suguru’s leg longed for the missing touch, but Satoru didn’t return it, deciding to lean against the steering wheel instead. “However, I beg you to refrain from your nosebleed tendencies. ” 

“I can’t help that,” Suguru groaned. “It’s a medical condition.” 

Satoru grinned and leaned back in his seat again, glancing at Suguru. They stopped, the red light projecting through the car. It gave Satoru’s hair a reddened glow. Suguru wanted to touch it, run his fingers under the strands and steal the red away. 

“What’s bothering you?” he asked, filling the tentative silence. “I promise you won’t ruin anything.” 

Suguru let out a deep breath, bits of anxiety exhaling from his lips. “Something’s wrong with me, Satoru,” he said. “I don’t know what it is, but it’s something bad.” 

Satoru’s eyes widened as the light turned green again. He tilted his head in thought before deciding on an answer. “Well, I hate to tell you this, Sugu, but there are a lot of things wrong with you,” he said, smiling when he caught a glimpse of Suguru’s glare. “ However , I find them all endearing.” 

“I’m serious ,” Suguru complained, fidgeting with his hands. “I woke up this morning, and I’ve felt off ever since.” 

“Off like how?” 

“Well…” Suguru started, realizing he hadn’t put it into words yet. He doubted if he could, but he would try for Satoru. That was another thing that differed between them. Satoru was seldom anxious. He was sometimes nervous but never anxious . Suguru was glad he didn’t know what it felt like: the dizzy spells, the nosebleeds, the churning stomach, the endless cycle of paranoid thoughts. But still, some selfish part of him wished he knew. It was one of the only parts of him that Satoru didn’t understand. “It’s hard to describe, but… I feel different .” 

“Bad different?” 

“ Bad different.” 

Satoru hummed in contemplation, taking another left. “Because you turned 18?” 

“That’s the only logical explanation,” Suguru reasoned, realizing how ridiculous it sounded out loud.  “It’s stupid.” 

“It’s not stupid ,” he assured. “It’s your feelings. How can it be stupid?” 

Suguru sighed. “Maybe irrational is a better word for it.” 

“You’re just another day older than you were yesterday,” Satoru promised, talking over his shoulder as he parallel parked. “You’re still the same Suguru.” 

“But what if I’ve hit some kind of turning point?” he asked, clasping his hands in his lap. “What if a deep, psychological disturbance has been dormant up until this point, and now that I’m 18, it’s… awoken or something?” 

Satoru killed the engine and breathed out a laugh. “You’re okay, Sugu. I think you’re just stressed about getting older.” 

“Of course, I am. Aren’t you?” Suguru asked, appalled. “Every birthday is just another reminder that I’m slowly dying.” 

He laughed at Suguru’s dramatics, filling the car with light blue waves. “That’s a terrible way to look at it, you know?” 

He smiled. “How else should I look at it?” he asked, a tentative laughter in his voice. To his surprise, the pressure in his chest began to loosen. Satoru was untying him, pulling gently at the knots until the panic came undone. 

“A little positivity goes a long way, you know?” Satoru said, checking his mirrors before getting out of the civic. 

Suguru mindlessly followed him, walking side-by-side through the busy streets. “Positivity is a certain thing I lack,” he said. “I’m willing to admit that.” 

Suguru allowed himself to think about it, to ponder the reason why he was so negative when Satoru was so… perfect . On the surface, it should’ve been the other way around, and the realization only made Suguru feel worse. What did he ever have to be negative about in his life? Nothing compared to Satoru. 

“I love it when you’re all gloomy and existential,” Satoru said, grinning as their shoulders brushed. “But, sometimes I worry about you. It’s not that I want to change it. It’s just- it’s that I want you to be happy.”

Suguru’s heart melted and pooled around his feet as he walked. He wondered how Satoru got to be so good with words, especially the ones he strung together for Suguru.

“You’re so sweet, Satoru,” he said, almost under his breath. “You’re always so sweet to me.” 

Sensing the distance in Suguru’s voice, Satoru locked their elbows, pulling them closer. Their body heat mixed within thick coats and worn-out sweaters. “I can’t help it,” he said, matching his stride with Suguru’s. “You make it incredibly easy.” 

Suguru let those words settle for a moment, watching as Satoru’s breath carried them from his mouth. It felt good to be loved, but it felt unbearable to be loved by Satoru. Suguru wished he could handle it. He wanted to hold Satoru’s sentiments in his hands and cradle them there, but they often slipped through the cracks between his fingers. And, he was left mourning for them, wishing he was worthy enough to receive it in the first place. 

“Satoru,” he said, the name weightless on his tongue. “Why do you think I feel this way on my birthday every year?” 

“ Maybe , instead of seeing each birthday as a sign of your life draining away, you should see it as evidence you made it another year,” he said, gently leaning against Suguru. “If it’s any consolation, I’ve always loved your birthday. Maybe even more than my own.” 

“Really? Why?” he asked. He could barely contain his shock, especially considering how much Satoru loved his own birthday. He wondered what they would be doing when Satoru turned 19, then 20, and 21 after that. The thought made his chest hurt, especially when he realized Satoru’s mother wouldn’t be there for any of it. 

“It’s your day,” Satoru said, shrugging as they turned down another street. “That’s why I love it.” 

Those words untied Suguru until he was lax, able to ease himself back into his thoughts. “That makes me feel better,” he admitted, grateful to the cold for masking his blush. “A lot better, actually.” 

Satoru smiled as they reached the end of the block. “I’ve done my job, then,” he said.

“I hate that it’s your job to make me feel better,” Suguru said, noticing how abnormally cold it was, even for February. He watched their breaths billow from their mouths and mingle in the air before disappearing into the night.  

“I’m reimbursed with your company,” Satoru said, grinning. “Honestly, sometimes I don’t know why you let me stick around.” 

Suguru was silent, but not at a loss for words. He had so many words, an abundance of everything , and he simply couldn’t articulate it out loud. Sometimes, when he looked at Satoru, it felt like this was their second chance. Like, maybe, in another distant life, they’d lost each other somehow. And now, in the simplicity of high school and the ease of growing up, it was Suguru’s responsibility to make sure they didn’t lose each other again. 

“Can you promise me you’ll always stick around?” Suguru asked, dwindling it all down to one burning question. “Even if I say I don’t want you to?” 

Satoru’s lips parted, his mouth heavy with unspoken words. “I promise,” he said. He smiled at Suguru’s seriousness, almost as if there was no need for it. “It’s not in my nature to leave you.” 

Suguru nodded as the words soaked into him, a pleasant warmth in the bitterness of early winter. The silence between them was welcome, dense with assurance and heavy emotions. He used it to further ground himself to the present. 

As Satoru led him down another block, Suguru realized he’d never been on this side of town. It was nice, almost quaint. String lights were hung in preparation for Valentine’s Day, and occasional flurries flicked through the wind, dusting lightly in Suguru’s hair. 

The mystery activity came into view. Suguru’s heart swelled when he saw it, needing to thank Satoru a million times over. 

“A photography exhibition?” he asked, reading the sign on the front door. 

“A photography exhibition,” Satoru confirmed. “My grandfather’s into the community stuff and suggested I bring you here today.” 

Suguru smiled so much his face hurt. “It’s perfect, Satoru,” he said, walking up the short flight of stairs to the entrance. “Thank you.” 

Despite the cold, heat flushed Satoru’s cheeks as he held the door for Suguru. “Stop making it such a big deal,” he said through his smile. “It’s nothing, really.” 

“Since when are you so modest?” Suguru asked, but Satoru’s answer was stopped short as they walked in. 

A strategically lit maze of photographs lined the room. They were displayed evenly along the walls, and Suguru gravitated toward the closest one when he realized entry was free. Satoru followed him on instinct, hugging close to his side. His presence radiated warmth into Suguru, forcing the February cold away. It seeped into the wooden floorboards and waited patiently for them outside in the wind. 

Soft piano music decorated the air around them, floating beautifully around Suguru’s head. He walked through the exhibition and admired each photo. He noticed different photography techniques and editing styles, wishing he knew how to replicate them. 

The photos reminded him of days long gone, a nostalgic past he never lived, yet remembered as if he had. The images flipped through his vision like pages of a book, superimposing on each other in faded memories. Wildflowers growing restless in the warmth of late spring, the view from a car window far into the evening, pool water rippling under the high summer sun, a game of outdoor basketball lit harshly by fluorescent streetlights, and a pair of hands connected by interlocked pinkies. 

Suguru tied the images to Satoru, almost without meaning too. A flower behind Suguru’s ear… hot chocolate stains… words traced on bare backs… the squeaking of new basketball shoes… aligned palm lines. The memories clung to him like the artificial strawberries on Satoru’s breath or the slight ache in the fingers on his left hand. 

Once he got to the end of the line, he stopped and stared at the final photograph, fighting the urge to reach out and touch it. He felt Satoru stiffen behind him, his breath catching, releasing, and catching again. 

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Suguru asked, his eyes glued to the black and white image of a mother. She knelt in front of her crying son, smiling as she wiped his tears with the pad of her thumb. 

“Yeah,” Satoru breathed, reaching for Suguru’s hand. “It is.” 

They stared at it for quite some time, half-expecting it to come alive. The longer he waited, the more details Suguru noticed. He saw the individual strands in her hair, the freckle in the middle of her wrist, the boy’s untied shoe, and lastly, the windchimes on the far away porch, blending into the background. 

Satoru saw it too and squeezed Suguru’s hand tighter. “When my mother got sick the second time, I bought her the windchimes,” he said, his eyes still fixed on the photo. “She would sit on the porch swing and listen to them for hours and hours, waiting for me to come home from your house.” 

Suguru’s breath shuddered as he rubbed his thumb across Satoru’s. The grief transferred between them, cycling its way through their points of contact.  

“She almost looks like her,” Suguru said. 

Satoru was quiet for a moment. “Yeah,” he whispered. “Almost.” 

They left after that, reentering the harsh, February wind. It filled Suguru’s lungs and reminded him that he was real. He still held Satoru’s hand, their heartbeats exchanging through their fingertips. 

. . .

Later that night, Suguru found himself alone with Satoru under the ceiling fan. The clink, clink, clink coated the room in familiarity and assurance. 

It was late, but not as late as it could’ve been. Suguru expected to see his mother one more time before the day was over, but she had already eaten dinner and gone to bed, the single plate on the dish-drying rack evident of that. When they’d walked up the stairs, her door was closed and the lights were off. Suguru was disappointed, wanting to talk to her before he went to sleep. 

Music played softly from Satoru’s speaker, and it was the same playlist he always had on in the car. The melodies soothed Suguru, relaxing him on top of the bedspread. Satoru was sprawled out beside him with a bag of strawberry candies. The wrappers crinkled each time he opened one, the sweet smell floating invisibly from his mouth. 

Suguru could feel Satoru’s gaze. It gently pierced him, begging for his attention. “Why are you staring at me?” he asked, meeting Satoru’s eyes. 

“What, I can’t look at you?” he asked softly, the corners of his lips curling upward. 

Suguru flushed bright red. “You can… I just- i t’s hard for me not to notice.” 

“I wanted you to notice,” he said, laughing as he looked away to his bag of candies. “Can we talk about something?” 

“Like what?” 

“You know… just anything.” 

Suguru shrugged. “Ask me a question, then.” 

Satoru paused in contemplation, eventually smiling when he thought of something. “You never told me about your conversation with Hina. How did it go?” 

“Good,” Suguru said shortly. “She said she understood.” 

"You rhymed," Satoru said, grinning. “So she didn’t tell anyone?” 

“No.” 

Satoru sighed, seemingly unsatisfied with Suguru’s answers. “I’ve been thinking about New Years Eve,” he said, looking at Suguru again with the same, sweet fondness he always had. “A lot actually.” 

He knew Satoru clung to every word and every microexpression he let slip through the cracks. It was difficult to maintain his calmness. The mere mention of that night charged the air between them, the ceiling fan churning it throughout the room. 

“Me too,” Suguru admitted, careful not to break. “I just… I try not to think about it too much.” 

“I wish you wouldn’t try so hard, Sugu,” Satoru said. “I wish you would let it consume you like I let it consume me.” 

It had consumed him. The memory of Satoru touching him in that way still lingered, imprinting hotly on his skin. Suguru’s body remembered his lips, his voice, his movements. He shivered in response, longing to feel it again. 

“How do you know it hasn’t consumed me already?” Suguru asked, locking eyes with Satoru again. “I thought it was obvious.”  

“Tell me,” Satoru said, amusement lifting his voice. He sat up on an elbow and smiled at him. “How obvious is it?” 

Suguru grinned, watching as Satoru’s pupils blew over and his cheeks reddened. “I’m not as obvious as you, but I’m still pretty bad.” 

“Am I that obvious?” 

“You should see yourself right now,” Suguru said, his breath picking up. He tried to calm it down, but his strategies wouldn’t work, especially with Satoru that close. “You only ever look that way when you’re with me.” 

“You’re right, Sugu,” he whispered. “It’s because you’re the only person I feel this good around.” 

Those words tore at Suguru’s seams only to sew him back again, tighter than before. “Good how?” he asked, a delicate tower of courage building in his chest. He stacked it tall and narrow, bolting it in place with the liquid sparks pooling in the pit of his stomach. 

Satoru only grinned and decided not to answer. He only grabbed his half-full bag of candies and placed it between them on the bed. “How many strawberries do you think I can stack on your stomach?” he asked instead, the electric air still mixing between them. 

“This feels stupid,” Suguru said, watching as Satoru smoothed out the puckers in his t-shirt. “And you never answered my question.” 

“I know I didn’t,” he said, placing the first strawberry in the middle of Suguru’s abdomen. “Mainly because I don’t think you actually want to hear it.” 

Suguru positioned himself on both elbows to watch Satoru’s progress. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know the answer,” he said, staring at Satoru’s concentrated eyes. “And you know I could just knock it down on purpose, right?” 

“You could, but, like, please don’t.”

Suguru knew where this was going, yet he had no will to stop it. The anticipation made him ache, and he fought the urge to fidget, needing a way to relieve it. 

Suguru held his breath as Satoru placed one, two, three candies, and he was about to place a fourth until he stopped, his hand frozen delicately above the tower. “Suguru?” Satoru asked, his eyes flicking up. 

“Yeah?” 

Satoru grinned like he’d just come up with the best idea. “How many candies do I have to stack for you to kiss me?” he asked, the question weighted with artificial strawberries and frustrated longing. 

Suguru’s breath caught and the tower fell, sliding down the dip in his side. “ Fuck ,” he whispered, his body begging him to do something . Anything to ease the gnawing pressure in between his hips. With Satoru so close, it was impossible to ignore. 

“You breathed, Sugu,” he said, smiling. 

“Sorry,” he sighed, watching as Satoru gathered the fallen strawberries. He watched the bend of his fingers, heard the crinkle of the wrappers, and anticipated the slight graze against the skin above the waistband of his shorts. His breath caught again when he felt it, causing Satoru to linger there. 

“You’re sensitive here?” he asked, grinning in satisfaction. He tossed the strawberries to the nightstand. His touch was gone for a split second before returning again, gentle and eager. 

“I guess so,” Suguru said, softly closing his eyes. Truthfully, Suguru was sensitive wherever Satoru touched him, simply because he needed it so much. 

Satoru used those words as an excuse to continue, moving Suguru’s shirt up and tracing the muscle lines leading to his waistband. He stopped his caress where the fabric met skin. “Do you remember what I said the day after the party?” he asked, his eyes fixed on the divot in Suguru’s hip. He slightly rocked the tip of his finger as if trying to memorize the way it felt. “About not kissing you until you asked?” 

“Yes,” Suguru said, surprised at the frailty of his own voice. 

Satoru paused, his chest tense with the words he would say next. “What’ll it take for you to ask me?” 

Suguru’s body hummed, his heart melting around his ribs like hot caramel. It flowed through his bloodstream and pooled near Satoru’s touch, warming the pad of his finger. He loved the way Satoru made him feel physically. The quickening of his breaths, the prickles on his skin, the aching desperation in his blood… All of it pulled him taunt like a bow string, needing Satoru to release him. 

Suguru knew what he wanted, so he said it aloud, not bothering to think about the consequences because they meant nothing to him anymore. “Touch me,” he whispered. “Touch me more .” 

“Yes, Sugu,” he said, smiling. “ Yes .” 

Satoru’s lips parted as he moved his hand upward, following the lines of Suguru’s abdomen. With deepening breaths, Satoru pulled up the hem of Suguru’s shirt and tossed it on the carpet, leaving him in only his mesh shorts with boxers underneath. 

He was weak, bending to Satoru’s touch so easily, so desperately. Suguru realized that his friendship with Satoru made these intimate moments more meaningful, and he was no longer afraid of losing it. It was innate, a permanent bond between them, tangible like lines of light blue and velvet red connecting them together.

Goosebumps rose on Suguru’s chest in the wake of Satoru’s touches. He leaned close to Suguru, his hot breath warming the skin above his navel. Satoru’s lips were almost touching him, invisible sparks popping in the space between. 

He pulled away for a moment, straddling Suguru’s hips. It was sudden, but the weight was good. So good . 

“Is this okay?” Satoru asked, noticing how Suguru was gripping the bedspread. 

“Yeah,” he sighed, fighting the urge to move his hips upward. “It’s just… different.” 

Satoru slid down, returning his mouth to the skin above Suguru’s navel. He smiled against it, running his hands up the curve of Suguru’s waist. “Good different?” he asked, reminiscent of their conversation from earlier. 

“ Good different,” Suguru said, blood rushing to the ache in his shorts. 

His muscles twitched as Satoru’s touch slowly inched up his side. Practiced fingers traced a path of sensual lines across his chest. The calluses on his hands reminded Suguru of basketball practices and childhood summers. Satoru had lived in those hands all his life, and Suguru loved how they moved, warm and weighted against his chest. They left behind fire-red blotches, throbbing with Suguru’s long-repressed desires. 

Satoru’s caresses were painfully patient as they slid over the curve of Suguru’s abdomen, the rise in his torso, and finally the dip in his collarbone. All the while, his mouth was dangerously close to Suguru’s skin, strawberry-scented breath clinging to his pores. Suguru was delirious, unfolding under Satoru’s touch. It got even worse when his thumb slid across Suguru’s bottom lip, pulling it away from his teeth. His face was close, only a moment away. 

Satoru’s breath quickened in slow increments, and Suguru knew the pattern. He’d heard it in the 13th street bathroom and on Satoru’s couch. “Tell me if it’s too much,” he whispered, making sure to keep his hips away from Suguru. 

“I will,” Suguru promised, knowing it wouldn’t matter. It would always be too much, yet, at the same time, never quite enough. 

Satoru’s thumb lingered on his bottom lip before slipping into Suguru’s mouth. At the motion, Suguru parted his lips and sucked on Satoru’s thumb, swirling his tongue along the bend of his knuckle. Gasping softly, Satoru pressed his thumb into the divot of Suguru’s tongue. He could feel Satoru’s thumbprint, memorizing the subtle hills and valleys that made him different from everyone else. 

They’d kissed before, but this felt more intimate, more suggestive . Suguru fisted the quilt, desperate for something more. His eyes never left Satoru’s, seeing the pleasure on his face. Redness blossomed across his cheeks and down his neck, disappearing underneath his shirt. Satoru’s breaths were choppy, rising and falling with dense desperation. 

Suguru sighed when Satoru pulled his thumb away, a string of saliva connecting it to his lips. Satoru shifted, still keeping his hips far away. He placed his hands on either side of Suguru’s head and leaned down, his lips grazing the shell of Suguru’s ear. 

“ Suguru ,” he whispered, almost whining. “Touch me back.” 

Tentative hands lost their grip on the quilt. He bowed into Satoru, his hands finding the curve of his hips through his t-shirt. He pushed the fabric up in favor of Satoru’s skin, letting out a deep breath when he felt it. Suguru massaged his thumbs into the bend of Satoru’s hips, a pleasant heat transferring between them. 

Satoru hummed and leaned into Suguru’s touch. The sound made the pressure within Suguru heavier and almost painful at the base of his stomach. “Satoru,” he gasped, needing to see his face. 

Satoru sat up, his face inches from Suguru’s. “Yes?” he answered, breathless and tender. His eyes traced over Suguru’s lips, practically begging for them. 

Light blue waves swirled in Satoru’s eyes. Sometimes calm and sometimes raging. Sometimes they clouded with anger or sadness or desperate longing. Through those eyes, Suguru could see everything Satoru was. All the good parts of him, and the parts he wanted to keep hidden away from everyone. His gaze made Suguru’s chest hurt, his heart seizing behind his ribcage. 

“Please kiss me,” he said, digging his hands into Satoru’s waist. More desperate now: “ Satoru , please.” 

Satoru leaned down and smiled against Suguru’s lips, unable to kiss him just yet. “I knew I could get you to beg for me,” he said, strawberry breath filling Suguru’s mouth. 

Suguru smiled back as they kissed, and it felt like honey, sweet and sticky in his chest. Their lips touched, clicking and shifting each time they pulled apart. Satoru sighed deeply into his mouth, his tongue swiping across Suguru’s bottom lip. 

Suguru anchored his hands to Satoru’s hips, wanting to explore the rest of his body but not ready to leave that spot. It felt comfortable and perfect, fitting just so in Suguru’s grasp. 

Satoru shifted above him, fighting the urge to settle his full weight against Suguru. He swallowed Satoru’s moans into their kisses, making his need grow stronger. 

He tasted the strawberries, eager to taste them again during their breathy intermissions. Each kiss tightened Suguru, so much so he feared his might snap before he was supposed to. He didn’t want to snap yet, enjoying Satoru’s methodical kisses far too much. His tongue moved in practiced motions, feeling out Suguru’s teeth, exploring the roof of his mouth, and swiping along the underside of his tongue. 

Suguru sat up against the headboard as if pulled by an invisible string. Satoru followed, kissing him deeper. He still hovered with his hips, so Suguru moved them downward to his own, desperate for the pressure. 

Satoru pulled away, exhaling into Suguru’s mouth. “You don’t have to,” he said, keeping their hips apart. “It’s okay.” 

“No,” Suguru sighed, shifting himself upward into Satoru. “I want to.” 

Satoru moaned softly as he finally shifted his weight on top of Satoru, immediately rocking his hips. “ Fuck ,” he said under his breath, burying his face into the crook of Suguru’s shoulder. 

“Satoru,” Suguru said, pulling at the hem of Satoru’s t-shirt. “You’re really hard.”

Satoru breathed a laugh as Suguru tossed his shirt to the ground. “It’s you .” 

Suguru grinned as his hand explored Satoru’s torso. He memorized the way his back tensed each time his hips rolled forward, his ribs expanding with each breath. Gravity weighed on them, gently fitting Satoru against him. Suguru couldn’t help but grind into him, surprised at how good it felt. It felt so good like that. 

“Suguru,” Satoru said, pulling away to breathe. “Your hair still smells like the green apple shampoo.” 

“Yeah,” he groaned as Satoru rolled his hips again and again, pulling him tighter and tighter. “You told me not to change it, remember?” 

Satoru laughed, combing his hands through Suguru’s hair. He kissed him again, sweet and gentle, before pulling away. “Yeah, I remember.” 

Suguru's next words were swallowed into their kiss again, lost in a sea of strawberries and light blue sparks. They moved with each other, bending and unbending in an easy, sensual rhythm. The air popped and crackled between them, carbonating in the dim lamplight. 

Suguru’s hands slid down Satoru’s side and tugged at the waistband of his shorts. “Can I touch you?” he asked, palming him through the fabric. 

Satoru groaned, pushing himself deeper into Suguru’s hand. “ Yes ,” he gasped. “But only if you’re sure.”  

Suguru was sure. So sure. He grinned as he slipped Satoru’s shorts down. He eyed the bulge in Satoru’s boxers and rubbed his thumb over it. Satoru writhed, kissing Suguru to stifle his moans. But when Suguru moved his touch underneath Satoru’s boxers, finding hard, wet skin, Satoru had to break away, unable to kiss him any longer. 

“Is this okay?” Suguru asked, pumping him once, slowly, experimentally . 

Satoru groaned, sighing against Suguru’s neck. “ Yes ,” he assured, grinding into Suguru’s hand. “Keep going.” 

Suguru pumped him again and again, faster and more confident each time. He could hardly focus over his own heartbeat and the painful arousal in his shorts. Satoru’s low praises dizzied around his head, warming him with sweet nothings and light blue fog. 

He quickened his pace when Satoru started to jerk, breathing into the crook of Suguru’s shoulder. “This is how I touch myself,” Suguru whispered.

Satoru ran his fingers through Suguru’s hair in response, tugging at the roots. “I’m so close, Suguru,” he said through uneven breaths, groaning as Suguru's thumb drew delicate semicircles. His touch lingered on the throbbing underside, applying pressure until Satoru came undone. His hold on Suguru’s hair tightened, his breath catching in anticipation. 

“ Satoru ,” Suguru moaned softly into his ear, and that was all it took. 

Satoru jerked against him, riding out his high into Suguru’s hand. He repeated Suguru’s name, the syllables so practiced and reverent coming from deep within his chest. “Suguru,” he said again, resting as he slowly descended back to himself. He kissed Suguru, deep and lovely. “You’re so good at that.” 

Suguru sighed, taking his hand from Satoru’s boxers and placing it gently on his chest. It was sticky and warm, sparks still flying between them. “Satoru, I just…” he trailed off when Satoru shifted on top of him, too distracted by the hot pleasure to find the words. 

“Let me touch you like that, Sugu,” Satoru said, pulling his shorts back up and getting on his side. He placed his knee between Suguru’s legs before tugging him into another kiss. 

That simple motion was almost too much. “No,” he said, his hand sliding up the bottom of Satoru’s thigh. “Just… keep doing that.” 

Satoru smiled against his lips, moving his knee against Suguru. “Okay,” he said, holding Suguru’s waist as he grinded against Satoru’s thigh. Suguru didn’t think he could handle anything more, anything wetter . It was good like this. Too good. 

He tried to keep kissing Satoru, but his mouth hung open. The pressure built, spinning painfully within him. The friction blinded him with white-hot flashes as Satoru’s hand fit in the dip of his waist, moving him faster and deeper. It felt so good. Better than anything he’d felt before, and it was Satoru who was making him feel it. Of course it was. Who else could’ve spilled him over, melted him down, hurt him in the best way possible? It was Satoru, and there was no one else. 

He’d lost all rhythm, overtaken by something far within himself. He shivered, tensing against Satoru. Sighing out a moan, he embraced him, their chests flush together. The climax smoothed from cresting waves into quiet ripples, coating the room like warm bathwater. 

Breathless, Suguru asked, “Is it supposed to feel that good?” 

“Yeah,” Satoru said, breathing out a laugh. “It is.” 

Ignoring the mess in his shorts and the stickiness on his hand, Suguru pulled Satoru closer and sighed softly in his ear. “I’ve wanted that for so long,” he admitted, the dizziness clearing from his vision. “I’ve wanted you for so long.” 

Satoru's chest fell, like he was relieved to hear those words. They were quiet for a moment, the air humid with the aftermath of what they’d done. Suguru expected to feel guilty, maybe even a semblance of shame, but he was satisfied , his desires quenched for the time being. The contentment thrummed like sunbeams under his skin, glowing eagerly underneath Satoru’s touch. 

 “I love you, Suguru,” Satoru whispered, lacing his fingers in Suguru's hair again. “You don’t have to say anything right now. I just wanted you to know.” 

Suguru squeezed his eyes shut and flattened his palms against Satoru’s back, committing the rhythm of his heartbeat to memory.

Chapter Text

There was nothing quite like kissing Satoru. No matter how many times their lips touched, it felt better and better. As soon as Suguru sat down in the passenger seat, Satoru kissed him deep and slow, his mouth tasting like mint toothpaste and artificial strawberries. 

“Good morning, Sugu,” he said, smiling against his lips. “Do you know what day it is?” 

“No, please remind me,” Suguru teased, giving him a light kiss before pulling away. “What day is it?” 

“It’s Valentine’s Day,” Satoru singsonged, driving away from Suguru’s house. It was a particularly cold morning, and frost ate the edges of Satoru’s windshield. “I have something planned for you after school, so you should get excited.” 

Suguru hummed, giddy butterflies tickling his stomach. His mind cycled through all the possibilities, but he decided to keep his guesses to himself, not wanting Satoru to accidentally give it away. He enjoyed Satoru’s surprises, and he knew, no matter what it was, he would enjoy it. “I have high expectations,” he said, not because he actually did but because he wanted Satoru to feel nervous. 

It worked. Satoru’s breath quickened before he answered, “Uh, maybe lower those a little bit. It’s pretty simple and low key, but I still think you’ll enjoy it.” 

Suguru stared at Satoru like he’d disappear if he blinked. He admired the contentful gleam in his eyes, the sharpness of his cheekbones, and the easy curve of his lips, and photographed it into his memory. Suguru had never felt this way, realizing that this was what he’d wanted for years, maybe longer. It was the friendship he’d always known, yet it was also newly romantic. They hadn’t defined it, and as much as Suguru wanted to, apprehension kept him from doing so. He liked where they were now, teetering comfortably between lovers and friends.

“I got you a valentine,” Suguru said, glancing briefly out the window. “But I’m too scared to give it to you right now. I will later today, though.” 

Satoru reached for Suguru’s hand and rubbed his thumb across the top. Suguru was uncomfortable showing affection at school, so Satoru made the most of their car rides, touching each one of Suguru's fingers as if he'd never touched them before. “I’ll love anything from you,” he said. “It really doesn’t matter what time of day you give it to me.”

Satoru’s valentine was, in all honesty, very minimal, two bags of strawberries and a card with a silly saying on it. Suguru glanced down at his school bag, the gift burning a hole through the fabric. “You should have higher standards, Satoru,” he said jokingly. “What if I got you like… a rock or something?” 

“Then I would put it in my fish tank and think of you fondly every time I saw it,” Satoru said. He shrugged, taking a contemplative pause before asking, “You didn’t actually get me a rock, though, did you?” 

“No,” Suguru said, laughing. “I didn’t, but it’s nice to know that you would’ve appreciated it.” 

Satoru grinned, taking the warmth of his hand away to make a left-hand turn. “This is our last Valentine’s Day as high school students. Can you believe it?” 

“No, but I’m glad it is. I’m ready to graduate,” Suguru admitted, meaning every word. He was tired of North High. He was tired of the signature school colors, the gaudy championship trophies, and, most of all, the invisible restriction that accompanied everything . He wanted to love Satoru openly, without the influence of people whose names he didn’t know in a town he didn’t belong in. None of that mattered to Satoru, yet it meant so much to Suguru. He wanted to know why, but the answer was elusive, hiding strategically in the corner of his mind. 

Satoru was quiet for a moment, like those words struck a wrong chord with him. “I don’t think I’m ready to graduate yet,” he admitted.

“Why’s that?” Suguru asked, even though he already knew the answer. Satoru thrived in high school, but he was the kind of person who would thrive no matter what. It was different for Suguru to see a semblance of doubt in his eyes, simply because Satoru never had doubts. He had always been so sure of himself, and Suguru was lost on how to comfort him. It had always been the other way around. 

“Well, I’m kinda living the dream right now,” Satoru said, relaxing his shoulders. “I’m happy.”  

Suguru paused, debating his answer. He was confused because the words were on the tip of his tongue, so simple yet so foreign. “I’m happy too,” he admitted with sincerity. Despite his adverse opinion of North High, he meant it. He was happy, but he knew, without hesitation, that he would be happier somewhere else.

Satoru laughed as North High appeared over the hill. Like Satoru’s windshield, it was covered in the frost of early winter, waiting for the sun to thaw it away. “Is that because of me?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Suguru smiled because of course it was. He wished he could find his own happiness like characters in movies or books, but he would always need Satoru to find it. There was beauty in that too, he thought. In needing someone.  

“Yes and no,” he joked, shrugging. 

Satoru sighed and rolled his eyes. “I hate when you give that stupid answer,” he complained, pulling into their usual parking spot. “You say that to everything I ask you.” 

“I just said it this time because I didn’t want you to get a big head, alright?” Suguru said. “Let me have my cop out answer, jeez.” 

“Don’t ever say it again,” Satoru said with a grin, grabbing his bag from the backseat. “It’s annoying and lame.” 

“You know what else is annoying and lame?” Suguru asked, letting their shoulders brush on the walk into school. “Valentine’s Day.” 

“Nice deflection,” Satoru mocked, smiling. “And you may think the decorations are ‘annoying and lame,’ but I happen to like them.” He paused, admiring the student council’s hard work. “They really liven up the place, you know?” 

Much to Suguru’s disdain, they had decorated the school in pink, red, and white, and it had been like that for the past two weeks. As they walked through the paper streamers and the glittery doorways, Suguru was grateful this was the final day of it. 

“It’s nauseating,” was all Suguru had to say about it. 

“You’re just a hater, Sugu,” Satoru said, grinning as they turned down the hallway. “Maybe you should appreciate the time and effort it takes to have Valentine’s Day spirit.” 

“ Exactly . Everyone’s heard of Christmas spirit, maybe even Halloween spirit, but no one’s ever heard of…” Suguru paused for dramatic effect, lowering his voice, “ Valentine’s Day spirit .” 

“Why are you saying it like it’s a bad word?” Satoru asked, laughing as they approached their lockers. 

“Because it is,” Suguru said, stopping at his locker. He and Satoru were “locker neighbors” as Satoru had termed it back in middle school. Even though Suguru enjoyed their close proximity, Valentine’s Day was infamous. So infamous in fact, Suguru braced himself when Satoru went to open his locker, preparing to catch any fallen valentines that slipped through his hands. 

Satoru froze on the last digit of his combination. “What are you staring at me for?” he asked, glancing over. 

“I’m just waiting to see how many you got this year,” Suguru said, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. “Due to the inevitable influx, I will probably have to save some from the ground.” 

“ Inevitable influx ?” Satoru asked, appalled. “Who do you think I am?” 

Suguru deadpanned. “You’re a celebrity around here, you know?” he said. “We go through this every year.” 

“ Celebrity ?” 

“Of astronomical proportions.” 

“ Astronomical proportions ?” 

“I wish you would stop repeating everything I say,” Suguru complained. “This is your equivalent of my ‘yes and no’ answer.” 

Satoru grinned. “But it’s fun.” 

“You always do it when I’m trying to be serious.” 

“I thought Valentine’s Day was ‘annoying’ and ‘lame,’” Satoru said, using air quotes. “Why are you so serious all of a sudden?”

Suguru rolled his eyes again, wondering if they’d get stuck in the back of his head. “Just open it already.” 

“I love it when you flirt with me,” he said, smirking. “Our banter is the highlight of my life.” 

“I’m getting impatient now, Satoru,” Suguru said, unable to fight the upward curl of his lips. “I want to count all your valentines.” 

Satoru gave him one last suggestive look before he caved, opening his locker to reveal an avalanche of cheesy love notes. Surprisingly, Satoru was able to catch them all before giving Suguru a sympathetic smile. “This seems excessive,” he said, gawking at all the anonymous messages. There were even bags of strawberry candies. “How the fuck did they get these in my locker?” he asked, holding them up in disbelief. 

“I don’t know,” Suguru said in awe, eyes widening. “That’s way more than last year.” 

“Is it?” Satoru asked, shifting through the cards and counting them. “I got 24?!” 

“On second thought, that seems a little on the low end.” 

“ The low end ?!” 

“Kinda,” Suguru said, shrugging. “And I told you to stop copying me.” 

“How is it on the low end?” Satoru asked, skimming over some of the notes. 

“I don’t know. It just seems like you should’ve gotten more.” 

Satoru squinted his eyes at one of the cards, blinked hard, and then squinted at it again. “Do you know this person?” he asked, showing it to Suguru. 

Suguru didn’t even bother looking at the name. “Why are you asking me? I don’t know anybody .” 

“That’s fair,” Satoru said, shoving it back in with all the others. He pulled out his textbook and closed his locker. “Now it’s your turn.” 

“I know for a fact I don’t have any valentines,” Suguru assured, putting in his combination. “Absolutely zero.” 

“Don’t be silly, Sugu,” he said. “You’re incredibly handsome. In my opinion, you should have twice as many as I do.” 

“I appreciate your sentiments, Satoru, but I am a bad person outside of this friendship.” 

“Says who?” 

“Come on ,” he droned. “I know the names of two people who go to this school, and one of them is yours.” 

“Yeah, but that’s like… your only flaw.” 

Suguru smiled, his butterflies acting up again. “You’re so sweet, Satoru, but I definitely have more flaws than that,” he said, sighing as he opened the door. To his surprise, he had three valentines. 

“See! I told you.” 

“Satoru,” Suguru said, shifting through them. “Two of these are for you.” 

“No way.” 

Suguru laughed through the pain. “Yes way.” 

“Let me see.” Satoru stepped closer, sighing in disappointment when he saw his name scribbled in red ink on two separate cards. “This is ridiculous.” 

“I’m not surprised.” 

“Well, I am,” he said, taking the cards out of Suguru’s hand and shoving them into the slot in his locker. “These people have no taste.” 

Suguru was too embarrassed to say it out loud, but he thought they had perfect taste. Satoru deserved all the valentines in the world. He couldn’t blame them. “It’s okay,” he said, directing his attention to the one and only card addressed to him. He opened it and smiled when he saw it was from Hina. 

Dear Suguru, 

Today is the perfect day for a love confession, don’t ya think?

Your friend, Hina

Suguru decided that he would ride the bus tomorrow even though it would be a Wednesday. Satoru would be disagreeable, but he’d get over it. 

“Who’s it from?” Satoru asked, looking over his shoulder. 

Suguru folded it back up before he could get a good look. “Hina.” 

“Hmm, you don’t have the hots for her, do you?” he asked, whispering in his ear. 

Suguru shoved Satoru away. “Do you really have to ask?”

“Validate me, Sugu,” he pleaded as they weaved through the crowd to biology. “I need it.” 

In a monotone voice, he said, “I do not have the hots for Hina.” 

“Who do you have the hots for, then?” Satoru asked, grinning. 

“Why are we calling it ‘the hots?’” he asked. “We sound like old people.” 

“Don’t dodge the question.” 

Suguru groaned, sitting down at his desk. “If I had to choose, I guess it would be you.” 

“Not exactly the eager answer I wanted, but I’ll take it.” 

Suguru laughed, resting his head on his desk and staring up at Satoru. “It’s definitely you.” 

Satoru looked down through hooded eyelashes, blinking quickly at Suguru’s answer. “Just so you know, I only want a valentine from you . The other 26 don’t matter to me.” 

“That’s a relief.” 

Satoru smiled, leaning down to Suguru’s ear. “I really want to kiss you right now,” he whispered. “It’s kinda debilitating.” 

Suguru glanced at Satoru’s lip on instinct, making his mouth water. “Do you have Valentine’s Day spirit, Satoru?” Suguru asked. “Because it sure sounds like you do.” 

Satoru laughed. “Yeah,” he admitted. “You just bring it out of me, I guess.” 

“Am I the person you have the hots for, Satoru?” Suguru asked, fighting the blush on his cheeks. 

Satoru laughed again, light blue flares lighting the classroom. “Without a doubt,” he said, gently placing his hand over Suguru’s. He left it there for the ghost of a moment then took it away, seemingly against his will. 

“That’s good to hear,” Suguru said fondly. He was disappointed when the bell rang, signaling the end of their conversation. 

Satoru gave him one last second of charged eye contact before spinning around in his desk. Suguru found it impossible to concentrate on anything other than Satoru. He was jittery with anticipation, daydreaming until the end of the school day.

. . .

“What do you mean the Valentine’s Day activity is outside?” Suguru asked, staring at Satoru with annoyed accusation. “It’s cold as hell.” 

“First of all, Sugu, that saying is stupid. Hell is hot ,” Satoru said, his tongue switching one of the strawberries Suguru had given him from one cheek to the other. He had appreciated the gift a little too much during their lunch, hugging the bags of candy to his chest like they’d vanish at any moment.

“How do you know what hell is like?” 

Satoru paused, eyes widening. “Well… I don’t really, but I feel like ‘hot as hell’ is more socially acceptable.” 

“Either way, hell is miserable and so is February weather.” 

“Trust me on this, okay?” Satoru said, tugging Suguru away from the front doors and back into the school. 

“Clubs are over,” Suguru said, grateful to be out of the weekly yearbook meeting. “Why are we still here?” 

Satoru cringed, bracing himself for Suguru’s reaction. “Well… the activity is at school.” 

Suguru shot daggers from his eyes. “You are on thin ice right now, Satoru,” he said, sighing. “This is killing my already half-dead Valentine’s Day spirit.” 

Satoru laughed, tugging Suguru through the desolate hallway and sitting down with him at their lunch spot. “I’ll resurrect it soon enough.” 

“I admire your confidence, but what happens when we get caught here after hours?” 

“Oh, after hours ?” Satoru exaggerated, suggestively raising an eyebrow. “I like that terminology.” 

Suguru scoffed, unable to contain his smile. “I didn’t mean it like that.” 

“ I meant it like that, though.” 

“We are not having sex on school grounds,” Suguru said, trying to keep a straight face. “That is a new low I won’t stoop to.” 

“Who said we were?” Satoru asked, grinning. “I think you’re looking too far into the subtext, Sugu.” 

“Why are you being all disagreeable?” 

“Because I like seeing you get mad,” he said. “It’s funny.” 

Suguru glowered. “It’ll be really funny when I murder you.” 

“You would never,” Satoru said with a laugh. 

“I will if I’m stuck here under the stairs with you for hours on end.” 

“Relax. It’ll be just a couple more minutes,” he said, peering over the wall to get a good look out the window. “It’s not cloudy today, so that’ll make it better.” 

Suguru wasn’t planning on guessing at the activity, but Satoru made it so obvious. Looking out the window… Commenting on the visibility factor of the weather… It was too easy. “Are we watching the sunset or something?” he asked, smirking. 

Satoru’s eyes widened as he slowly looked over. “ No .” 

“Could you be any more cliche, Satoru?” he asked, stifling his laughter. “You’re turning into a true romantic, aren’t you?” 

“I’m denying your assumption,” he said, burying his face in his hands. Despite his denial, Suguru knew he was correct. Was it the most out-of-the-box, fantastic thing ever? No, not really. However, it was something they tended to do a lot during the summer, and Suguru appreciated Satoru’s thoughtfulness. 

“Can’t we watch the sunset at my house or something?” Suguru asked, grinning at how flustered Satoru was. “Why does it have to be here?” 

“ Shhh ,” Satoru pleaded, peeking up at him. “I’m denying it, alright?” 

“ Okay ,” Suguru said, raising his hands in surrender. “Whatever you say.” 

Satoru sighed, sliding his knees down and resting his head against the wall. “How do you know me so well?” he asked. “It’s not fair.” 

“How do you know me so well?” 

Satoru grinned, his eyes softening. “You have a point.” 

“Will we be watching it from this spot?” Suguru asked, giving the blank wall in front of him a long stare for dramatic effect. 

“Of course not, jeez,” Satoru groaned. “I figured out how to get to the roof, and I thought it would be a cool thing to check off on the bucket list, you know?” 

“What else is on your bucket list?” Suguru asked, raising an eyebrow. “If sneaking up to the North High roof is at the top of it, I’d hate to know all the other death-defying activities you have planned for us in the near future.” 

“Stop making fun of me,” Satoru complained, breathing out a laugh. “I wanted to do it with you , alright?” 

Suguru gave him a gentle stare, his eyes tracing over the bridge of his nose, the curl of his lips, and the line of his jaw. He loved looking at Satoru. It was comfortable, yet, at the same time, it made him nervous, his skin itching with the impulse to touch him. “Sorry,” he whispered. “I promise. I’m excited.”

Satoru smiled and stood up, checking the hallway for any stragglers. “We can go up there now if you want,” he said, offering Suguru his hand. “And please tell me you have a jacket in your bag.” 

“I’m naturally hot-natured,” Suguru argued. “I’ll be fine.” 

Satoru glared, knowing better than to believe that. “I don’t want to hear any complaining about how it’s ‘cold as hell’ outside, then,” he said, using air quotes again. 

Suguru grinned, taking his hand. He took a moment to dig through his bag for the denim jacket he often wore over his hoodie. “Is this good enough for you?” he asked, wrestling it on. 

“Yes,” he said. He eyed Suguru’s hand for a moment too long, his lips parting with heavy hesitation. “Can I hold your hand now that no one’s around?” 

Suguru's fingers twitched, almost like magnetics toward Satoru. He held his hand out to him, sighing when their skin touched. “Yeah,” he whispered. “Sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” Satoru said, pulling him closer. “I understand why you don’t want to do it in front of everyone.” He pressed a soft kiss to Suguru’s lips and lingered there, sighing deeply into his mouth before pulling away. “It’s amazing, you know?” he said, his eyes glued to their intertwined fingers. “Being able to kiss you.” He paused, smiling. “Amongst other things.” 

“Stop being cheesy,” Suguru complained, leaning in to kiss Satoru again. The kiss was slow and gentle, backed by a subtle sense of appreciation. “But yeah… I guess it is.” 

Satoru hummed and pulled away, dragging Suguru down the hall. “I thought you didn’t want to have sex at the school,” he said, trying to force the heat from his cheeks. 

“I just kissed you. That was all,” Suguru said, laughing as Satoru led him up the staircase. 

“And that’s all it takes, Sugu,” Satoru said, keeping his voice down. His whispers still echoed along the tiled floors and the concrete walls, sounding sweetly in Suguru’s ear. “You have no idea of your effect on me.” 

Suguru’s heart lifted as they ran down the upstairs hallway, careful to keep their footsteps light. The smell of newly waxed floors and old gymnasiums floated around them in invisible clouds, hanging heavy with nostalgia. The sun was already setting behind the house-lined hills, and Suguru watched it through the window at the end of the hall, mesmerized by burnt orange flares and the pink-coated horizon. 

“Wow,” Satoru breathed, his chest heaving. “It’s prettier than I thought it would be.” 

Suguru hummed in agreement, unable to look away. “This was a great surprise, Satoru,” he said. “It’s much better here than it is on the swings or even at the lake.” 

Satoru fished in his pocket, pulling out a rusted key. He slotted it into the lock on the window and turned it, inviting the bitter, February wind inside. “After you,” he said, gesturing with his arm. 

Suguru frowned. “How did you get that key?” 

“I stole it.” 

“What?” Suguru asked, his eyes widening. “You stole it?” 

“Right out of the supply closet,” he said, shrugging. “I skipped my advanced gym class to figure out which window it went to yesterday.” 

“Are you gonna… return it?” 

“I was planning on keeping it,” Satoru admitted, staring at the key in his palm. “I kinda like the aesthetic.” 

“What aesthetic?” Suguru asked, giving it a good once over. “It’s a recipe for tetanus.” 

Satoru grinned as he pocketed the key. “Stop nagging me and just go out there, will you?” he said. “Time is of the essence.” 

“If you cut yourself on it, you’ll probably die,” Suguru said through stifled laughter, carefully climbing up on the heater and slipping through the crack in the window. 

He could feel Satoru roll his eyes behind him. “I don’t think it’s that serious.” 

Suguru’s response was lost as the fresh air cleared his nose and bit at his eyes, blinding him for a moment. He blinked it away and stared at the sunset. It colored the sky like paint strokes, oranges, pinks, purples, yellows, and blues mingling together in the chill of late afternoon. 

Satoru shortly followed, standing shoulder to shoulder with him on the gravel-covered roof. “Yeah,” he said, wrapping an arm around Suguru. “This is exactly what I imagined it would be like.” 

Suguru sighed, leaning into Satoru’s embrace. “Sit with me?” he asked, gesturing with his eyes to the edge of the building. “We can dangle our feet off the edge.” 

Satoru nodded as he walked over and stood on the end, the toes of his shoes hanging off. “Would I die if I fell from this height?” he asked, looking down at the sidewalk below. 

“Depends on how you land, I guess,” Suguru said, sitting with his feet over the side. He swung his legs like a child, the motion softening his muscles and calming his thoughts. “If you landed headfirst, then probably.” 

Satoru shrugged and sat next to him, placing his hand over Suguru’s. He was quiet for a moment, both of them too busy watching the sun gently touch the horizon. Eventually, Satoru spoke up. “Do you still wanna go to the beach for spring break next month?” he asked, giving Suguru a kind stare. “It’s been awhile since we talked about it, but I want to go.” 

Suguru nodded, his heart pumping with newfound excitement. “Yeah,” he said immediately. “I’d love to.” 

“Good,” Satoru said, his hair tinted with the colors of sunsets. “It’ll finally feel like the middle of summer again, if only for a few days.” 

Those words soaked Suguru like warm water, awakening the sense of ease within him. “You know what’s weird?” he asked, resting his head on Satoru’s shoulder. “I used to love winter. I loved the cold, the wind, the grayness of it, but now all I want is for it to be spring again and then summer after that.” 

Satoru was quiet, listening to the sound of the cars on the adjacent street and the soft rhythm of their breathing. “It’s the other way around for me. I’ve grown fond of autumn and winter,” he admitted. “They remind me of you.” 

Suguru let out a deep breath, realizing maybe that was why he longed for summer. It was like Satoru, warm and light blue, dulling his edges and smoothing him out. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Satoru,” he said after a moment, his heart weightless behind his ribs. His next words stuck to his lips like sugar. “I’ve never felt more loved by anyone.” 

Satoru breathed a laugh. “You don’t know how lovely you are, Suguru,” he said, pulling him closer. “You’re so easy to love.”

The words fell pleasantly on Suguru’s ears, filling him with memories of youthful springs and the beauty of falling in love.

Chapter Text

The last time Suguru had gone to the ocean was with his mother and Ren. He had turned ten that year. The memory he clung to the most was Ren spraying sunscreen on his back and rubbing it in, his hand heavy with the comforts of fatherhood.  

As he looked out at the ocean now, over eight years later, it was the exact same. The colors of childhood came back to him, brightening the blue water and the off-white grains of sand. It was dreamlike. Suguru blinked several times just to make sure it was real. 

“Woah,” Satoru said as he climbed out of the driver’s seat. He walked around the front and leaned against the hood next to Suguru. “I’ve never been to the beach before.” 

“Really?” 

“Nope,” he said with a shrug, watching the waves crash from the empty parking lot. “It’s more beautiful than I thought.” 

Suguru nodded in agreement as a seasalt breeze blew his bangs back. It was a stark contrast from home, void of pre-spring dullness and suburban order. His stiffness from the car ride was swiftly forgotten and replaced by a familiar sense of euphoria and fond appreciation. 

“Why haven’t you been to the beach before?” Suguru asked, looking over at him. “I thought all families made at least one beach trip every few years.” 

“Yeah, well, my mom wasn’t a beach person. She liked the mountains better, so that was where we went most summers.” He paused, considering. “Sometimes, we didn’t go anywhere.” 

Suguru hummed and fixed his eyes on the horizon. He admired how the sky met the ocean. Two contrasting shades of blue touched yet never mixed, sharing the sunlight like distant friends. 

“We used to go every year until I turned ten. After that, we didn’t go anymore. I don’t know why,” Suguru said. He took a moment to try and pinpoint a reason, but he came up empty. “We just… didn’t.” 

“Is it like you remember it?” Satoru asked. His gaze scanned the outstretched shore, trying his best to memorize even the smallest details.  

“Surprisingly, it’s exactly how I remember it.” 

Satoru’s brows furrowed behind his sunglasses. “Why surprisingly ?” 

Suguru sighed, not quite knowing how to explain. “There are some things, like holidays or snow days, that lose their importance the older you get. I was expecting this to be the same way, but it’s not,” Suguru said, satisfied with his words. “It feels just as good to me as it did when I was ten.” 

Satoru was quiet for a moment, listening to the ocean breathe. “I kinda love it,” he said, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “It’s like we reached the end, you know?” 

“The end of what?” 

“Like the end of the world or something.” 

“We didn’t come all this way for you to come out to me as a flat-earther, did we?” 

Satoru laughed, adding another shade of blue to Suguru’s vision. It was more beautiful than all the rest, heavy with childhood nostalgia and the comforts of the present. “No, jeez,” he said. “I was trying to be metaphorical.” 

“As long as your metaphor doesn’t include conspiracies, I’m all ears.” 

“Well, maybe it is influenced by conspiracies, but it’s also poetic.” 

Suguru raised his eyebrows. “Go on.” 

Satoru smiled, his face lit by the high sun. His sunglasses hid part of his expression, and Suguru wished he could see his eyes. “It just seems like there’s nothing after this, you know? Like if you walked out too far, you’d fall off the edge.” 

“That’s basically the driving principle of the flat-earth theory.” 

Satoru groaned, shoving Suguru's shoulder. “Let me live, Sugu. I was just trying to be introspective.” 

“Do you wanna go out there and see if it’s true?” Suguru asked, grabbing Satoru's hand and tugging him toward the beach access. “We only have two days here, so we might as well start now.” 

Satoru smiled, his pale skin reddening in the early afternoon sun. “I wholeheartedly agree, but you won’t be swimming in that t-shirt, are you?” he asked, eyeing Suguru’s worn-through basketball t-shirt. 

“No, why?” 

Satoru grinned. “Just making sure.” 

Suguru pulled Satoru with him toward the shore. “You’re annoying,” he said, smiling anyway. 

“Forgive me for wanting to see you with your shirt off,” he said with a laugh, following Suguru closer to the ocean. He slipped his sandals off and purposefully matched his steps with Suguru’s, leaving only one set of footprints in the sand. 

“I forgive you,” Suguru said, grinning as the ocean breeze blew stronger. It threatened to undo the knot in his hair, pulling eagerly at his bangs. 

Satoru dropped their towels under an abandoned umbrella and slipped his shirt over his head, prompting Suguru to do the same. After digging through his bag, Suguru found the sunscreen and sprayed himself down. 

“Satoru, you need to put sunscreen on,” he said, giving him a glare. 

“I’m no bitch, Sugu. I don’t need that.” 

“Yes, you do.” 

Satoru groaned. “It feels bad on my skin, though.” 

“Yeah, it’ll really feel bad on your skin when you get third degree burns.” 

Satoru cringed in recollection. “That was one time.” 

“You made me put lotion on your back for weeks afterwards,” Suguru said, that day in early June coming back to him in perfect detail. “If I remember right, you actually cried -” 

“A moment of weakness,” he interrupted before taking the bottle out of Suguru’s hand. “And I’ll do it if you insist, okay?” 

“Well, I insist,” Suguru said, smiling at Satoru’s stubbornness. The sunscreen smell relaxed him, reminding him of days at the city pool, morning runs before basketball camp, and distant vacations with his parents. 

Satoru tossed the bottle next to his bag and dragged Suguru toward the shore, kicking up sand as he went. He was laughing, the sound swallowed by the easy crash of the waves. 

Suguru’s feet skidded through the water, the splashes soaking his skin. He admired the shore as it stretched endlessly in each direction. The ocean went on forever in front of him, lulling with easy waves and the sunlight’s reflection. 

He looked down, watching at the water coated his feet. It was cool against his skin, crystalizing in the sun. He reached for Satoru and smiled when their hands touched. 

“It’s weird that no one else is here on spring break week,” Suguru said, looking around at the deserted shore. “It’s nice.” 

Satoru snorted like he knew something Suguru didn’t. 

“ What ?” he asked, giving Satoru the side eye. 

“Well… we’re technically trespassing.” 

Suguru sighed, disappointed but not surprised. “I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you to plan this trip.” 

“That’s a little dramatic,” Satoru groaned. “I just noticed that there weren’t many cars in these driveways and decided the private beach would be best.” 

“And what happens when we get arrested?” 

“We won’t get arrested,” Satoru assured. “I can get us out of any predicament with my elite charisma.” 

Suguru rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t stop the smile. “I won’t argue.” 

“So you agree I have elite charisma?” 

“I didn’t say that . I just meant that I didn’t want to talk about this anymore because it drains all my energy-” 

Satoru splashed up at him, interrupting his train of thought and drenching his swim shorts. 

“Really?” Suguru asked, glaring. “How old are we?” 

“Don’t be that way, Sugu,” Satoru said, splashing him again. “We’re on vacation . Nothing can stress us out.”

“Let’s see how stressed I get with saltwater in my eyes and handcuffs around my wrists,” Suguru said, unable to stop smiling despite his serious tone. “I’m not kidding.” 

“Sounds like you are kidding,” Satoru said, standing up next to him. He grabbed Suguru by the elbow and pulled him further out until the water met their chests. Both of their hands interlocked under the subtle waves, bubbles clinging at their points of contact. 

“You look so good all wet,” Satoru said, undoing their hands to push Suguru’s wet bangs away from his forehead. 

“Why do you have to say it like that?” Suguru groaned. “It’s weird.” 

“I feel like we have this conversation every time I’m honest with you,” Satoru said, leaning closer. “I just say it how it is.” 

“Did you really have to put in the whole ‘wet’ part, though?” Suguru asked. “You could’ve just said I looked good.” He pushed Satoru’s sunglasses up on his head and closed the space between them. Their lips lightly touched, sweet with strawberry candies, saltwater, and the scent of sunscreen. 

“I did,” Satoru said, grinning into their kiss. “You look good wet and dry, but wet is especially hot.” 

“Do you ever think before you speak?” Suguru asked, gripping Satoru’s shoulders. He kissed him again, easy and gentle. 

With the sweet click of their lips, Satoru broke away. “You have no idea how many times I held my tongue,” he said, resting his forehead against Suguru’s. “Maybe if I had said something sooner, things would have been like this from the beginning. Then, we wouldn’t have been stuck in that awful limbo between friends and something else.” 

“Was it really an awful limbo?” Suguru asked, his hands slowly wandering across Satoru’s waist, up his chest, and around his neck. There they stayed, playing lovingly with the ends of Satoru’s hair. 

“I felt like dying most of the time,” Satoru admitted through a quiet laugh. “Sometimes, when I look at you, I’m afraid I’ll blink and you’ll be gone. Almost like you were never real to begin with.” 

“That’s silly,” Suguru said, holding him closer. “I’m very real, Satoru.” 

Their bare chests were flush together, heartbeats exchanging through double layers of skin and bone. He pretended to be unaware of how Satoru felt, but he knew it well. Satoru was too perfect to be real, and even if he were real, Suguru was too flawed to deserve him.

“It doesn’t feel like that sometimes,” Satoru admitted as the waves rocked them like gentle, calming breaths. “It’s different now that you know my feelings. You’re somehow even more important to me than you were before.” 

“Was there a moment?” Suguru asked, pulling away to meet Satoru’s eyes, “when you knew you loved me?” 

“It’s crazy, Sugu,” Satoru said, laughing. The sound reverberated through Suguru’s chest, mixing fondly with the seagulls and the crashing waves. “It’s like I’ve known you before I knew you.”

Suguru took those words and tattooed them into his mind, making sure he would always remember them. I’ve known you before I knew you. It was unforgettably beautiful. 

“I wish I could think of something like that to say to you.” 

Satoru smiled and kissed him again and again. Suguru was lost in it, obsessed with the way their mouths slotted together. Eventually, they stalled, breathless and flushed in the mid-afternoon sun. 

“I know how you feel about me,” Satoru said, placing his palm against Suguru’s chest. “You don’t have to say it out loud.” 

Suguru memorized the pads of Satoru’s fingers and the way his palm flattened against the skin above his heart. He recalled a distant thought from a night in early-February and spoke it aloud, needing Satoru to hear it. “I think that we might’ve loved each other in another lifetime, either generations ago or somewhere far away,” Suguru said, his heart racing under Satoru’s touch. “And I think I lost you, or you lost me, and that’s why I’m so desperate to keep you.” 

Satoru applied more pressure to Suguru’s chest as if he could reach through his ribs and touch his heart. “The only way we’d ever be apart is if you left me first,” he said, exhaling deeply. “I love you, Suguru, and I’ve never meant anything more.” 

For the first time in what felt like months, Suguru was warm. The sun was beaming across his back like a set of tender hands, smoothing away the harshness of winter and the fear of letting go. “I’ve never felt this way before,” Suguru admitted, blood rushing in his ears. 

Satoru’s smile warmed him further. He leaned in and kissed Suguru like he meant it, deep and slow. “I love kissing you like this,” he said. 

“Kissing me like what?” 

“Like I am yours and you are mine,” he half-whispered, glowing beautifully within the ocean waves. 

. . .

Satoru had gotten them a very cheap hotel right on the shore. The room was hardly furnished, and what furniture it had was scarred and discolored. The television on the wall was far too small, the mattress felt like a bed of uneven rocks, and there were no towels. 

Satoru tried his best to make the most of the situation by saying things like: “It has a sort of charm, don’t you think?” or “For the money I paid, this is basically five stars.” 

Even though the room was insufferably dirty and full of grime, Suguru was happy to be there. He was with Satoru, and the ocean was a few steps away. He couldn’t have asked for much more than that. 

“Do you wanna go night swimming?” Satoru asked, leaning against the doorway. He was simultaneously brushing his teeth, his voice muffled with toothpaste. 

Suguru’s back was against the deteriorating headboard, his shoulders straightening as he gave Satoru a long look. “I already took a shower,” he said. “You did too, remember?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, disappearing behind the door to spit into the sink. He came back a second later and lounged next to Suguru on their shared rock mattress. “But like… I can shower again.” 

“Maybe tomorrow,” Suguru said, scooting down so his head was on the pillow and closing his eyes. “I’m practically sleep-talking right now.” 

Satoru laughed and sat up on one elbow. He brushed Suguru’s bangs away from his face and said, “Will you at least come see the balcony with me? Just for a little while?” 

Suguru smiled and cracked an eye open. “Since you asked so nicely, maybe I will.” 

“We’re lucky we even got a balcony,” Satoru said with a proud air about him. “I made sure to explicitly request it.” 

“Why’s that?” 

Satoru squinted in annoyance. “Do you not see my vision?” 

Suguru was quiet, waiting for whatever ridiculous “vision” Satoru had come up with. 

“My romantic vision, Sugu?” 

“I don’t feel like arguing,” Suguru said, forcing himself to sit on the side of the bed. “Let’s just do it.” 

“Now that’s the attitude I like to see,” Satoru said, rushing around the side of the bed and grabbing both of Suguru’s hands to help him up. “You seem so eager.” 

“Do I?” Suguru asked, laughing as Satoru pulled him to the sliding doors that separated their room from the open balcony. 

The breeze hit him like a bout of rain, washing him in memories of lost summers and vacation nights with his parents. Suguru sighed and rested his elbows on the railing. “I see your vision now,” he said, staring back at Satoru. 

He closed the door and stood beside Suguru. They faced the ocean, an endless sea of black waves lit only by dim moonlight and hotel lamps. 

“I wanted to ask you something, and I figured this setting would be more romantic than the sheetless hotel bed,” Satoru said, making sure their shoulders touched. 

The night was warm, humid with a heavy seasalt breeze. It clung to Suguru’s hair, curling it at the ends. 

“I’m afraid to ask what it is,” Suguru admitted, leaning into Satoru’s side. “It’s nothing world-altering, is it?” 

“Depends on your definition of ‘world-altering.’” 

“Is it up to par with your definition?” Suguru asked, getting slightly nervous.

“To me, yes,” Satoru said, smiling down at himself. “To you? Probably not.” 

Suguru sighed out a laugh, his mind racing. There were things he wasn’t ready for with Satoru, and he didn’t understand why. They had been close physically, even sexually, but sometimes, especially when he became overwhelmed by his own feelings, Suguru would panic. He hadn’t told Satoru he was in love with him, not explicitly at least, but it wasn’t from a lack of love. It was from an abundance of it, pulling at his seams and tearing him apart. If he thought about it too much, his chest would tighten with an awful fear he couldn’t name. 

“What is it?” he asked, swallowing the heartbeat in his throat. 

“Well, don’t look all enthused to hear it,” Satoru said, sarcasm lifting his voice. “Relax, Sugu. It’s okay.” 

Suguru stared down at his hands, wondering how Satoru could’ve seen his apprehension. “I’m just nervous,” he admitted.

“Why’s that?”

“I don’t know,” Suguru started, frustrated at his lack of words. He didn’t want Satoru to misunderstand, especially since the nature of their relationship had changed. “I just… get overwhelmed by this sometimes.” 

“By what?” 

“You and me.” 

Satoru nodded, seeming to agree. “I just wanted to ask you to prom,” he said, the words blending nicely with the distant crashing of the waves. “That’s all it is.” 

“How would that not be world-altering for me?” Suguru asked, his eyes finding Satoru’s. He tried his best to memorize him in that moment: his damp white hair, his soft smile, his bright blue eyes catching the moonlight in just the right way-

“I assumed you thought it would be stupid,” Satoru admitted. 

Suguru grinned, “It is stupid.” 

“Then why are you agreeing to go?” 

“I never said I agreed,” Suguru teased, grinning at the offended look on Satoru’s face. "I just said that it was world-altering.” 

Satoru briefly closed his eyes and smiled with white teeth and subtle dimples. “Well, do you agree?” 

A million thoughts rushed through Suguru’s mind, so quickly he couldn’t keep track of them all. It was dizzying and painful, the same awful fears chaining him again and again. In the end, everything boiled down to one aggressive sense of dread. 

What would everyone else think?

“I don’t know, Satoru,” he said after a moment too long. He stared at the beachwalk below, scared to speak his thoughts aloud. “I don’t think I’m ready for…” 

“For everyone to know?” 

He stayed quiet, too afraid to look at Satoru. Of course he wanted to go to prom with him, to kiss him in front of his classmates, to show them he belonged to Satoru and that Satoru belonged to him. But he thought about their eyes. He thought about how their stares would pierce him straight through the chest and keep piercing him long after they’d looked away. 

“Yeah,” he admitted. “I’m afraid for everyone to know.” 

“Can I ask why?” Satoru said, grabbing one of Suguru’s hands. He traced easy semi circles over Suguru’s knuckles, calming the fear out of him. 

The touch forced Suguru to look up from the ground and find those blue eyes again. Satoru tried to hide it, but Suguru could see the hurt in his eyes. “It scares me,” Suguru said, the words cutting Satoru deeper. 

“Okay,” he said, soft and gentle. He let go of Suguru’s hand and pulled nervously at the railing, his feet shuffling against the balcony. “That’s okay.” 

“Satoru,” Suguru said frantically. “I’m sorry. It’s not that I don’t want to go with you. I really want to go . I just–it’s different .” 

“I should’ve known this would be your response, Sugu. I don’t know why I’m so disappointed,” he said, scoffing at himself. 

“I liked that you asked me,” Suguru assured, reaching for Satoru’s hand again. He brought it to his lips and pressed a kiss to the top of his hand. “I’ll still go with you. Just… not like this.” 

“As friends?” he asked, his voice heavy with sadness. 

“It just needs to seem like that to everyone else,” Suguru said, desperate to explain. “I’m not saying that we’re just friends, Satoru. We’re much more than that.” 

“I know,” he assured, his eyes soft. “I want to show you how much I love you.” He took a subtle pause. “Not just in private, but all the time.” 

Suguru let those words settle between them, finding comfort in them. “You will.” 

Satoru gave him a small smile, weighed with desperate frustration. He paused, his lips pursing with the question he would ask next. “Is this about Homecoming?” 

The mere mention of it sent Suguru spiraling, forcing him to say something quick and unprepared. “Why would you ask that?” he asked, his chest shrinking in on itself. 

“Don’t answer my question with another question, Sugu.” 

“Homecoming,” Suguru said, scared to speak it aloud, “doesn’t have anything to do with this.” 

“You can’t fool me,” Satoru said, his voice calm and tender. “You got a black eye because of something we both did, didn’t you?” 

“No.” 

“Suguru,” he said gently, his eyes pleading. “Be honest with me.” 

“I am being honest with you.” 

Shrugging those words off, Satoru asked, “Who hit you?” 

The events of that night came back to Suguru in sharp, unavoidable pains. The panic… Bug Boy… the blood on the tiles… Satoru holding him until the bleeding finally stopped-

“Suguru,” he said again, sounding out each syllable. “Was it because we were so close that night?” 

“No.” 

“We were really close,” Satoru said, ignoring Suguru’s denials. “Closer than friends should’ve been, remember?” 

“Of course, I remember.” 

“I could feel your heart beating so fast, and I thought you might’ve–” 

“Satoru, that night was hard for me,” he interrupted. “And I don’t want to dig it all back up again.” 

“Will you at least tell me why they hurt you?” he asked. “Whoever they are.” 

Looking at Satoru, Suguru knew he had to tell him. His pride begged him not to, but with Satoru, it shouldn’t have mattered anymore. 

“It was a group of these guys,” Suguru started, realizing this was the first time he’d ever told this story. It was embarrassing, an awful testament of his shame. An ugly combination of the shame he felt back then and the shame he still felt now. 

“And they just attacked you? Without a reason?” 

“There was a reason,” Suguru explained. “Not a very good one.” 

“Well, what was it?” 

Suguru sighed, expelling his apprehension into the nighttime ocean air. He ignored the direct question, deciding to swirl around it instead. “You said we were closer than we should’ve been that night,” he said. “What do you think everyone else thought about it?” 

“Why would I care what everyone else thought?” Satoru asked. “That night, I only cared about what you thought.” 

“After you danced with me, you danced with a girl.” 

“That obviously didn’t mean anything to me,” Satoru assured as the wind picked up, ruffling his hair. “You took some photos of us and disappeared. I found you ten minutes later in the bathroom with a bloody nose and a black eye–” 

“I left because I was jealous of her, Satoru. I was so jealous of her, and I didn’t know why,” Suguru explained, his heart racing. “At least not at the time.” 

Satoru’s face softened, his voice quiet with the sound of the waves. “Where did you go?” 

“Under the stairs,” Suguru said. The events were so clear in his mind, almost as if they’d happened the night before. “As you can probably guess, I don’t know their names, but you’ve met them.” 

“When?” Satoru asked, appalled. 

Suguru let out a painful laugh. “Halloween. It was the guy helping Hina with the timer,” he explained, smiling at the ground. “I call him Bug Boy in my head.” 

“The guy with the big eyes?” Satoru asked. “Sugu, I love you, I really do, but how did that guy land a punch on you?” 

Suguru laughed, genuinely this time. Of course, Satoru would make it seem like no big deal, only  an unfortunate, little thing that happened one night months ago. 

“There were actually three of them,” he said. “In all fairness, I was borderline crying and definitely hyperventilating, so the first punch I tried didn’t exactly land.” 

“Oh yeah,” Satoru said, recalling previous conversations. “You started the fight. Why?” 

Suguru shook his head in remembrance, the tone of Bug Boy’s words echoing in his head. “He said some hateful stuff, Satoru. I don’t feel like repeating it, much less thinking about it, so–” 

“What did he say?” Satoru interrupted, his eyes eager. 

Suguru signed with resignation, his shoulders slumping. He knew Satoru wasn’t going to stop until he knew everything , so Suguru told him, finally allowing himself to let it go. “I don’t recall the exact words, but I remember how he said them, like he was disgusted by me.” Suguru took a pause, gearing himself up. “He asked me if you knew I wanted to fuck you,” he said, laughing to the ground. “He just kept going on and on, and I wasn’t in the best state of mind to hear that kind of thing, you know?” 

The blood rushed in Suguru’s ears as he recounted it, but when Satoru tilted Suguru’s chin up with his thumb, it stopped, a peaceful silence settling his thoughts. No matter how many times Satoru touched him, it still made Suguru shiver, an addictive sense of intimacy ripping through his veins. 

“Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?” Satoru asked, his voice almost too gentle. “I could’ve done something.” 

“Here’s the thing,” Suguru said, captured by the blue swirls in Satoru’s eyes. “I really did want to fuck you back then, but I didn’t want to admit it, not to myself and especially not to you.” 

Satoru smiled, easing the unpleasant memories from Suguru’s mind. “You’re so hot when you’re honest.” 

“You say I’m hot when I wake up in the morning,” Suguru said, returning his smile. “What do you know?” 

“I know I love you,” he said, almost a whisper. “That should be enough, don’t you think?” 

Satoru leaned down and placed a kiss on Suguru's lips. Suguru tasted him, his mouth cool with mint toothpaste. The words “I love you” sweetened the air between them, mingling with the ocean breeze.

Suguru broke away. “Do you understand now?” he asked. “Why we can’t go to prom together?” 

Satoru nodded, his eyes clouded with brief devastation before he blinked it away. “I understand,” he said.

Chapter Text

There was something about the weeks between spring break and prom that didn’t sit right with Suguru. The high from break weekend crashed as soon as he and Satoru drove across the city lines, the same old drabness greeting them with a cold shoulder. They had three weeks before prom, but it felt like twice that many, especially since there was nothing to do. 

In the midst of this monotonous void, Suguru found himself in biology class. He resigned to drawing doodles in the corner of his notebook instead. The lecture was about something gross and unsanitary, so rather than pay attention, he zoned out, not wanting to be traumatized. 

On the contrary, Satoru was diligently jotting down notes, which was surprising because Satoru never took things seriously. Turns out, it wasn’t about biology at all. About thirty minutes into the hour-long lecture, Satoru’s hand reached backwards, a piece of paper between his fingers. He rustled it around to get Suguru’s attention, encouraging him to take it. 

Suguru glared at the note, knowing that once he read it, he wouldn’t be able to un read it. As soon as he caved, Satoru clenched his fist in celebration, and at that moment, Suguru knew he’d made a mistake. 

He carefully unfolded the note, closed his eyes for a second of self-reflection, and then read the words written in Satoru’s unmistakable print. He had a hard time swallowing his laughter in the otherwise dead-quiet classroom. 

Dearest Sugu, 

It would be my greatest pleasure for you to join me in skipping class on this day during the second period. I am hesitant to ask this of you because, as I understand, you have a deep passion for photography, which yearbook class fulfills. However, I beg of you to accompany me, simply because I cannot bear another day of advanced gym. It causes me great distress to be parted from you even for a mere hour. It would make my heart very happy if you would accept this humble invitation. 

Your lover and friend, 

Satoru <3

P.S.: did I sound like a Victorian poet? I tried very hard. 

Suguru refolded the note and shoved it in his jacket pocket before writing one of his own. It wasn’t as hard to roleplay a Victorian poet as he thought it would be. 

Dearest Satoru, 

Your request is extremely difficult to refuse. Considering my deep inclination to pursue responsibility, I understand that it would be in my best interest to decline this tempting offer. However, I am not of strong will when it comes to your wishes. Due to the nature of your suggestions, I fear potential disciplinary action if we are discovered, but, as with many of our escapades, I am willing to ignore this risk and join you on this day during the second period. Despite this agreement, my previous notion of abstaining from sexual activity on school grounds is undebatable. Please respond to this message promptly and discretely. 

Your lover and friend, 

Suguru 

P.S.: You were a pro at sounding like a Victorian poet, but I was better. 

Suguru leaned forward and shoved it in the pocket of Satoru’s denim jeans, watching as he slowly brought it to his desk. His shoulders shook with subdued laughter before he wrote his reply. 

Dearest Sugu, 

I am overjoyed that you have agreed to this rather impromptu plan of mine. Shall we engage in the sport of basketball on the outdoor courts this fine morning? Shall we sneak off to the pond behind the practice field to make lewd jokes and tell stories? The possibilities are truly endless. However disappointed I may be, I understand your hesitation to engage in physical relations on school property. It seems I will be forced to imagine them, as I have been for many years now. I am counting the moments until our time alone. 

Your lover and friend, 

Satoru <33

P.S.: You are better than me at a lot of things but not this

Suguru pocketed this note as well. Satoru’s written sentiments warmed him all the way to his toes, and he couldn’t help but smile quietly to himself. His knee bounced in anticipation of the bell, each second lasting far too long. 

. . .

“Since when did you get so good at writing notes like that?” Suguru asked as they walked side by side to their lockers. “It was impressive.” 

“You bring that kind of thing out of me,” Satoru said, grinning. “I know the trials and tribulations of unrequited love now, so it was easy.” 

Suguru glared. “It’s funny when you write it, not so much when you start reciting it.” 

“It wasn’t meant to be funny,” Satoru said, leaning into Suguru as they walked. “It was meant to be romantic and authentic .” 

Suguru gave him a sarcastic grin and watched with amusement as he dug through his locker for a basketball. It had rolled all the way to the back, covered by Satoru’s many forgotten jackets. 

“Has it really been that long since we played?” Suguru asked, laughing at Satoru’s struggle. 

“Since January, right?” he said through gritted teeth. 

“I guess so,” he said as the hallways cleared out. “Remember when we used to play every single day?” 

“Why do you make it seem like it’s been ten years?” Satoru asked, sighing when the basketball got lodged between the metal walls of his locker. “How the hell did I get this in here?” 

“I’m just trying to be sentimental,” Suguru said. He pushed Satoru aside and wrapped his arm around the basketball from the back, forcing it free. “I think I’m the one who got it in there.” 

The halls were abnormally quiet as final, frantic footsteps disappeared through nearly closed classroom doors. The bell rang, and then it was desolate. 

“Do you wanna know my plan?” Satoru whispered loudly. He closed his locker door, the metal clang echoing down the hallway. 

Suguru glared. “You’re not a very good whisperer.” 

Ignoring Suguru’s comment, Satoru said, “So, I’m thinking we can go through the gym. I know it’ll be clear because the gym class is outside on the track today.” 

“Why are you making it sound so covert?” 

Continuing to ignore him, Satoru said, “And once we cut through the gym, we can walk along the tree line, around the parking lot, and then to the outdoor courts.” 

“Satoru, why don’t we just walk out the front door? It would be much quicker–” 

“Are you crazy?” Satoru asked, eyes widening. He took the basketball from Suguru’s hands and held it close to his chest. “My gym coach could see us on his way to the track.” 

The bell had already rung, meaning the gym class was most likely halfway to the track already. “How could he see us?” Suguru asked. 

“With his eyes , Sugu.” 

Too stunned to speak, Suguru blinked hard. “Fine.” 

“Fine what?” 

“ Fine, we’ll sneak out the stupid way.” 

“Glad we all agree,” Satoru said, grinning. He tucked the basketball under his arm and reached for Suguru with the other. Their fingers teased for a moment before they laced together, heartbeats exchanging through delicate squeezes. 

“You’re holding my hand,” Satoru said, staring as they walked. “At school. During the school day.” 

“I can stop,” Suguru said with a mocking grin. 

“ No ,” Satoru said, tightening his grip. “I was just saying it out loud.” 

“Why?” 

“Because it’s really happening,” Satoru said, smiling fondly at their interlocked hands. 

Suguru smiled too. “Can you believe it?” he asked. 

Satoru bent down to open the gym door with the basketball still under his arm. The metallic creaks echoed through the empty gymnasium, bouncing off the painted concrete walls. 

They walked across the gym floor towards the side door. Suguru looked around, imagining basketball practice. He could see a ghost of himself guarding Satoru, dribbling around cones, and lining up his foul shots, all of it in the same methodical way he’d done it for four years. 

“ Can I believe it? ” Satoru repeated, bringing Suguru’s hand to his lips. He pressed a soft kiss before swinging their arms back and forth between them. “Now that I think about it, you have no idea how hard I manifested this, so yeah, I can believe it.” 

“Manifested?” 

“Definitely,” Satoru said, like it was something everyone did. “I thought you into existence.”

“Sounds toxic.” 

Satoru glared and pushed the door open. The mid-spring air cascaded over them, dense with pollen and the promise of summer. 

“ Toxic is a harsh word,” Satoru complained. “I’d say it’s more nuanced.” 

Suguru pretended to know what that meant and followed Satoru to the courts. “Did you manifest this good weather?” he asked, the sun’s pleasantness soaking through him and warming the pavement. 

“I don’t know if I would go that far, but I’d like to think so, yes,” Satoru said, grinning. Their hands were still clasped together, swinging back and forth as they cut through the parking lot. 

Suguru raised an eyebrow at Satoru. “And I thought we were going to be ‘sneaking along the treeline’ or something to the effect–” 

“After a recalculation, I decided that this way was better,” Satoru interrupted. 

“Sure, sure,” Suguru said, fighting a laugh. 

They reached the newly sealed asphalt courts, coordinated by white spray-painted lines and two distant hoops. 

Satoru let go of Suguru’s hand and passed him the ball. “Full court or half court?” he asked, smirking. 

“Really?” Suguru groaned. “Can’t we just shoot and rebound? Why do we have to play one-on-one?” 

“What’s the fun in just shooting and rebounding?” 

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because I’m in jeans,” Suguru complained. “Even so, I still need to warm up.”

“No, you don’t,” Satoru said, shrugging. “It’s all muscle memory anyway.” 

Suguru glared. “Maybe for you.” 

“So what I’m hearing is, you want to do half court?” 

“I hate you,” Suguru said, deadpanning. “But yeah, I guess half court’s fine.” 

Satoru was right. It really was muscle memory. Suguru’s body found its rhythm: shooting, dribbling, defending. All of it was ingrained, and he couldn’t help but fall back into old patterns. Despite the months that had passed since they last played, Suguru rarely misstepped. Of course, Satoru didn’t either, and he scored twenty points first, only two ahead of Suguru. 

After making the final shot, Satoru collapsed breathless on the court, the basketball bouncing and rolling into the grass. “I’m so out of shape,” Satoru said, chest heaving.  

“Why did we play basketball in jeans?” Suguru asked, trying and failing to ignore the sweaty discomfort. 

“Why not?” Satoru asked. His bangs clung with sweat to his forehead, glistening in the late-morning sun. He gave Suguru a lazy smile. “It was fun, wasn’t it?”

Suguru huffed in agreement and slowly laid down next to him. A gentle silence settled between them, filled only by the returning birds and the rustle of newly-sprouted leaves. A valve of relief released in Suguru’s chest when he realized winter was over, at least for now. He cherished the feeling, letting the fresh air thaw him out. 

As they lay there, Suguru matched his breaths to Satoru’s, their chests rising and falling in familiar unison. “Can I tell you about this dream I had the other night?” Suguru eventually asked, sitting up on one elbow. 

Satoru gave him a curious side-eye. “I’m worried.” 

“Why?” Suguru asked, laughing.

“Because, you never tell me anything about your dreams. Sometimes, I wonder if you even have any.” 

“Of course I have dreams.” 

Satoru smiled. “Well, this is the first I’m hearing of it.” 

“It was about you.” 

“The dream,” Satoru asked, taking a dramatic pause, “was about me?” 

“Yeah.” 

Satoru covered his face with his hands, blush-like heat peeking through his fingers. “I can’t believe this.” 

Suguru rolled his eyes. “What the hell is going on right now, Satoru? I just wanted to tell you about my dream–” 

“I don’t know if I can handle it.” 

“I’ve dreamed about you before. It’s not like this is the first time–” 

Satoru interrupted again. “And you didn’t tell me before now?” 

“I don’t see the big deal,” Suguru said, grinning. 

“Honestly, Sugu, any thoughts you have, I would like to know them.” 

Suguru glared. “I’m thankful you can’t read my mind. That would be so awful.” 

“Why’s that?” Satoru asked, smirking. “Do you have a lot of dirty secrets?” 

“Nothing like that.” 

“Dirty fantasies ?” Satoru rephrased. “Is that more accurate?” 

Suguru flushed. “Can I tell you about my dream now?” 

“You think you’re so good at deflections, but I always notice when you’re doing it,” Satoru said. 

Ignoring the comment, Suguru proceeded. “The other night, I dreamed we were back at the beach.” 

“What were we doing at the beach?” Satoru asked, raising his eyebrows up and down. 

“Making a sand castle.” 

Satoru let out a breath of disappointment. “Was that all?” 

“Well, no.” 

“What else, then?” Satoru asked. 

“This giant wave destroyed our sandcastle after a few minutes, and we would rebuild it every time. I got really angry about it, you know? Cursing and everything. But you didn’t. You would just laugh it off and start over like it was the funniest thing in the world.” 

Satoru was quiet for a moment before he said, “What do you think that means?” 

“I don’t know,” Suguru said, furrowing his eyebrows. “I didn’t really think about it. I just thought it was a nice dream.” 

“Dreams have deep psychological meanings, you know?” 

Suguru shrugged. “I loved seeing you in my dream,” he admitted, his smile widening. “It was like I spent more time with you than I normally would.” 

“The fact that you dream about me is honestly the best thing I’ve ever heard,” Satoru said, unable to stop smiling.  

Suguru rolled his eyes and leaned over, pressing his lips lightly to Satoru’s temple. “You’re so dramatic.” 

“I’m perfectly reasonable,” Satoru said, grabbing the front of Suguru’s shirt to keep him close. He kissed him on the mouth, nice and slow. “You have no idea how many dreams I’ve had about you.” 

“How many?” 

Satoru kissed him again. “Countless,” he said, smiling against Suguru’s lips. “Good ones, bad ones, and ones I’m too embarrassed to tell you about.” 

Suguru sighed fondly, giving Satoru another brief kiss before pulling away. “Do you remember when I told you about being awake in other people’s dreams?” 

Satoru nodded. “If you can’t sleep, you’re awake in someone else’s dream,” he said, repeating Suguru's words from months prior.

“You should do me a favor and stop dreaming about me so often, then,” Suguru said. 

“There’s nothing like talking to you in one of my dreams, waking up, and seeing you right there. Real and in person,” Satoru said. “I love every second of it.” 

At those words, Suguru sat up and kissed him. He kept kissing him, not sure if he’d be able to stop. He placed his hand under Satoru’s ear, tangling his fingers in his hair. “You’re really sweaty,” he said, smiling. 

“In my defense, I went all out on that game.” 

“I’m not much better,” Suguru admitted as waves of heat pounded in his ears. He laid on his back again, feeling the pavement through his thin t-shirt. “I’m melting.” 

“I think it’s more of a glow than a melt.” 

Suguru laughed, wiping his forehead with the back of his arm. “You’re full of compliments this morning, aren’t you?” 

“I will keep complimenting you until you believe me,” Satoru said. “Sometimes, it’s like pulling teeth.” 

Suguru paused before saying, “I believe you.” 

Satoru grinned. “Actually, whether you believe me or not, I’ll keep complimenting you anyway. It’s different now that we’re together, you know?” he said, sitting up. “It means more.” 

“We’re together?” Suguru asked, looking up at Satoru with a quiet smile. 

“I’d say so,” he said. “Feel free to correct me.” 

“I won’t correct you,” Suguru said. A nice, warm feeling ached in his chest, so good he could hardly stand it. “I suppose we are together based on… proximity.” 

“Not just that,” Satoru said with a nervous laugh. “You know what I mean.” 

“What do you mean?” Suguru asked, teasing. 

“Don’t make me do this, Sugu.’ 

“Do what?” 

Satoru laughed, more relaxed now. “You know .” 

Suguru’s smile faded, his eyes softening. “Yeah, I know,” he said. “Are you my boyfriend, then?” 

Satoru seemed to melt. “I am if you want me.” 

“I want you,” Suguru promised, the words so easy. His body relaxed as if it had been waiting to say them for a long time. He thought about their shared moments beforehand: a charged moment of eye contact, a not-so accidental touch, and all the times Suguru had admitted it without saying it aloud. Everything building and building until he could actually say it, and it felt so good. “I want you,” he said again, more sure this time. 

Satoru smiled with pretty teeth and subtle dimples. “I want you too,” he said. “Very much.”

Suguru kissed him again, taking those words right from his mouth. They kissed on the basketball court until the bell rang, sneaking back inside with swollen lips and sweat-soaked jeans. 

. . .

Suguru watched through the living room window as Satoru’s civic disappeared down the street and into the night. Although the evening was meant for studying, it didn’t end up that way. Suguru flexed his hands, burning with reminders of Satoru. 

“He’s not staying the night?” Suguru’s mother asked from the couch. “That’s different.” 

“His grandfather needed him early tomorrow,” Suguru explained, sitting down beside her. He sunk deep into the couch, the day's fatigue weighing him down. “See how nice and quiet it is now?” 

She grinned. “I like the noise sometimes,” she said. “Satoru has a nice presence, don’t you think?”

Suguru nodded in agreement. If he would’ve allowed himself, Suguru could’ve talked about Satoru for hours on end, recounting every little thing about him in perfect detail. Instead, he said, “Yeah, he really does.” 

There was a brief moment of silence, filled with Suguru’s own paranoia. He wondered if she knew. She had to know. It was written all over his face. Maybe it had been obvious from the start. The way he and Satoru looked at each other couldn’t have gone unnoticed. How they touched each other in simple passing. The way Suguru’s eyes dilated at the mere mention of Satoru– 

“Who’s Satoru going to prom with?” she asked, breaking the silence. “Matter of fact, who are you going to prom with?” 

Despite dozens of girls asking Satoru to prom, he’d let each one down easy. Even though the repeated rejections calmed Suguru’s heart, it still worried him, knowing that he wasn’t the only one who loved Satoru. “He’s not going with anyone,” Suguru answered, a little too eagerly. 

“What about you?” she asked

“Me? I’m not going with anyone either.” 

She sighed, giving him a look. “Are you too nervous to ask someone? Like… the person you were talking about a few months ago?”  

“That’s not it.”

“Knowing you, that’s definitely it.” 

Suguru grinned, resting his head against the back of the couch. He caught glimpses of a black-and-white sitcom playing on the television. It was one his mother had seen a million times and could probably recite lines from. “Honestly, Mom, I just don’t have anyone in mind,” he said, the lie easier to tell than he thought it would be. “I’d rather go with Satoru like normal.” 

She nodded, her eyes glued to the television. “Prom and graduation are your last two big things, aren’t they?” 

“I wouldn’t say big things.” 

“Why not?” she asked, slightly offended. “Trust me. You’ll always remember these moments, Suguru, whether you want to or not, so you might as well make the most of them.” 

There were plenty of bad memories that went along with his time at North High, but it was hard for him to hate it now, when it wasn’t before. With a pleasant irritation, Suguru knew that Satoru had something to do with his subtle change of heart. 

“I suppose I’ll miss it,” he admitted. “Mostly because of Satoru.” 

She hummed, smiling again at the mention of him. “You two are really close, aren’t you?” she asked, breaking her gaze away from the television to look at him. “Where does he plan to go after graduation?” 

“He wants to go where I go,” Suguru said, realizing what that statement suggested. It felt like a slip up, but then again, it was honest. “I don’t know where that would be yet, but I guess I’ll know within the next few weeks when the letters come in.” 

At that, she smiled and got up from the couch. “Stay right here,” she said, disappearing into the darkness of the kitchen. 

Suguru sighed, suddenly nervous. “What’s this about?” he yelled to her, watching as she dug through a kitchen drawer. 

“Your letters got here this morning,” she said, holding them up with a smile. 

There were three of them, carefully addressed and containing his future. Suguru’s stomach lurched, and he contemplated not opening them until the next day when Satoru was there to open them with him. 

“Go on,” she said, placing them on the couch cushion. “I’ve been dying ever since I checked the mailbox.” 

Suguru gave her a nervous look. “What do you think they say?” he asked. 

She shrugged and clasped her hands together in her lap. “We won’t know for sure until you open them, right?” 

Suguru’s thumb ripped at the seam of the first letter, then the second, and then the third, the words floating off the page in a dreamlike haze. Not to his surprise, one of them informed him that he’d been rejected. Of course, with his recent grades, he didn’t blame them. The second one waitlisted him, which was code for delayed rejection. And as he opened the third one, his mother frozen with disappointment and anticipation, he smiled, marveling that his entire future hinged on this simple piece of paper. 

He paused, the letter half-unfolded. “And what happens if this one rejects me?” he asked, the breath stuck in his throat. 

“It won’t,” she said confidently, like she could read through the back of the paper. “Trust me.” 

Unable to wait any longer, he opened it, shocked at what it said. The word “congratulations” beamed back at him in bolded font, and he almost choked on his own excitement. 

“Well, what does it say?” she asked, craning her neck to see. 

“I got in,” Suguru said, sighing as he showed her the letter. “That’s… crazy.” 

“It’s not crazy ,” she said, smiling so big her eyes squinted. “It’s perfect .” 

Suguru read the letter again and again, making sure he wasn’t seeing things. It was a small university in the mountains a few hours away. Mostly, without meaning to, he imagined what it would be like to go to college with Satoru, the two of them holed up in a dorm room as the leaves started to change. Walking to class hand-in-hand. Stealing kisses a campus coffee shop. Before the fantasy got too out of hand, he blinked hard, his mother’s face materializing in front of him, waiting with eagerness. 

“Are you going to accept?” she asked. “If you don’t want to, we can figure something else out. You can take a gap year or–” 

It was a weird feeling, one Suguru couldn’t even describe, but he knew what he was going to do, everything falling into place like pieces of a puzzle. “I want to accept,” he said with a newfound confidence. “I have no idea what I would major in, but I’m sure I can figure that out later.” 

“You want to accept?” she asked, her eyes brimming with happy tears. “That’s great, Suguru.” 

“Don’t cry,” he said. “I won’t know how to comfort you.” 

She laughed, silent tears spilling out. “I’m sorry. I can’t help it.” 

“What are you going to do without me around all the time?” he asked, smiling. “You won’t have to worry about hands in kitchen drawers or hearing the ceiling fan out in the hallway.” 

That comment only made her cry harder. “I like worrying about you,” she said, pulling him close. 

Suguru squeezed his eyes shut, memorizing the smell of her department store perfume and the rhythm of her hands across his back. “You really don’t have to worry about me anymore, Mom.” 

“I can’t help that either,” she said. “You’re my son. I’ll always worry about you.” 

Suguru held her closer, realizing he would miss her more than anyone once he left. She was his mother, and he loved her like one. But she was also his friend, and he loved her like that too.

Chapter Text

The events before prom weren’t unlike those before homecoming, and the whole process riddled Suguru with intense PTSD. 

“At least let me brush it,” his mother complained, rushing after Suguru. 

He paused at the door, Satoru waiting patiently on the other side. “How are you gonna brush it when it’s up?” he asked, not bothering to wait for her response before turning the knob. Sure enough, Satoru was there, eyes sparkling and smile widening. 

“Well, don’t you look beautiful this evening, Sugu,” he said, cocking his head to the side and eyeing him up and down. The simple motion made butterflies swarm in Suguru’s stomach, and he blinked hard, too stunned to respond. 

Suguru’s mother peered from around the door. “Satoru, convince him to let me brush his hair. He should wear it down for a change. It’s prom night for God’s sake.” 

“You had your way with Homecoming,” Suguru argued, unable to look away from Satoru even for a second. They had their own private conversation, a gentle admiration exchanging between them. 

“If you won’t let me fix your hair, at least let me take your picture,” she complained, disappearing into the kitchen to grab her camera. 

Suguru stepped out onto the porch, fighting the urge to kiss Satoru in the doorway. “Is there any way I could get you to wear a suit every day of the week?” Suguru asked, checking Satoru out. “I’m kinda obsessed with you.”

Satoru flushed bright red against the sunset, his hair tinted with burnt oranges and pale pinks. “That sounds like something I was just about to say to you,” he admitted, tentatively placing his hands on Suguru’s shoulders. The gentle touch melted him even through the fabric of his jacket. “And I’m obsessed with you .” 

“Remember, we’re just friends tonight, right?” Suguru half-teased. 

Satoru smirked, his gaze trained on Suguru’s lips. “It’s sexy, don’t you think?” he asked, dropping his hands. He lowered his voice, whispering now, “Being just friends in public but much, much more in private.” 

The words made Suguru’s heart flip in his chest, but before he could agree, his mother ushered them out into the yard. “Pose for me and be quick about it,” she insisted, motioning vaguely with her hands. “You’re already ten minutes late to the dance.” 

Satoru slung his arm around Suguru’s shoulders and held him close. His thumb rubbed up and down Suguru’s arm, and it was so distracting. The camera flashed, but Suguru wasn’t looking at it. His eyes were glued to Satoru, the sharpness of his jaw, the angle of his mouth, the subtle freckles hidden in his pale skin–

“Suguru, at least look at me, please,” his mother complained. “You don’t even have to smile. Just look at the camera.” 

Satoru laughed, glancing over. “What are you staring at me for?” he asked. “That’s rude.” 

Suguru’s gaze shot toward his mother, a trained smile spreading across his face. “I was not staring at you,” he said through his teeth. “Just pose for the picture.” 

“Yeah, sure you weren’t.”

“It would be nice if you two could look at the camera at the same time!” his mother shouted, snapping to get Satoru’s attention. 

After three consecutive flashes, she let the camera hang loose around her neck. “Okay, then,” she said, walking up to Suguru and repositioning his bangs. “Is there any way I can convince you to let me fix your hair?” 

“No, Mom, we’re leaving,” Suguru said, slapping her hands away. “It’s fine.” 

“Okay,” she said, disappointed. “Just… have fun.” 

“We will,” Satoru singsonged. “Hopefully, Sugu’ll loosen up on the drive over.” 

“I am loose.” 

“You should see the vein popping out of your forehead.” 

Suguru glared. “You’re lucky my mom’s here.” 

“Stop bickering,” she said, motioning them toward the civic. “You’re late enough as it is.” 

Satoru laughed and grabbed Suguru by the wrist. “I’ll return him at a reasonable hour, Lisa.” 

“ Return me ?” Suguru asked, appalled. “What do I look like–” 

“Thank you, Satoru,” she interrupted. “Please make sure he doesn’t get a black eye this time.” 

“I think he learned his lesson. Didn’t you, Sugu?” Satoru asked, tugging Suguru away like a child. “No need to worry.” 

Suguru’s mother gave him a fond smile and waved, not going back inside until the civic disappeared down the sunset-lit street. 

“Why must you antagonize me?” Suguru asked as they approached a red stoplight. “And I can’t even do anything about it in front of my mom.” 

Satoru laughed, the sound bubbling around the car. “I like seeing you squirm, Sugu. You’re hot when you’re angry.” 

“You say that about everything I do.” 

Satoru shrugged. “Everything you do is hot,” he said like it was a universal fact. “You’re especially hot when you wear three-piece suits and your bangs fall across your face in just the right way.” 

Despite his attempts to fight it, Suguru smiled, his cheeks flushing red. “I feel like we have this conversation a lot.” 

“I just like complimenting you, Sugu,” Satoru said, reaching across the center console for his hand. He laced their fingers together, gently caressing Suguru’s thumb. “It feels like I’ve been holding everything in, but now I can compliment you without risking the death of our friendship.” 

Suguru rolled his eyes at ‘the death of our friendship.’ “I would never let that happen,” he said.  

“If our friendship ever died, it would definitely be your fault one way or another,” Satoru said, flashing Suguru an innocent smile. 

Suguru stared at Satoru as he drove through the green light, realizing it was almost painful to be this close. Closer than he’d ever been with anyone. He loved Satoru. He really loved him. It was to the point he could barely stand it, aching with the beautiful way it possessed him. 

“Satoru?” Suguru said after a moment. “Can I ask you something?” 

Satoru’s grip on Suguru’s hand tightened, seemingly afraid of Suguru’s next words. “Anything.” 

“Do you want to go to college together?” he asked, smiling at the way Satoru’s face lit up. “I got an acceptance letter in the mail the other day, and I’ve been thinking about it and–” 

“I would love to go to college with you. It doesn’t even matter where,” Satoru interrupted. “I don’t think you understand exactly how much I would love that, Sugu. Seriously.” 

Suguru told Satoru about his acceptance letter (and the rejection ones). Eventually asking him, “So, do you really want to go together?” 

“I got accepted there too,” Satoru admitted, smiling at the look on Suguru’s face. “They gave me a basketball scholarship and everything.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me before now?”  

“Well, I didn’t want to pressure you. I will go wherever you go, Sugu. It’s not all that complicated.” 

“I thought you wanted to stay here–” 

“I will go wherever you go,” he said again, soft and sweet. “That’s what I meant when I told you I loved you.” 

Suguru started melting again, soaking happily into the hot chocolate-stained passenger seat. “Really?” 

“Imagine us in a dorm room together,” he said as they arrived at North High. They parked in their usual spot, and Satoru turned off the engine. He paused, not wanting to get out just yet. “The two of us… alone… in a very small room–” 

“Believe me,” Suguru said, smiling. “I’ve thought about it often.” 

“Have you?” Satoru asked, lifting the arm rest. He leaned close, his warm breath against Suguru’s ear. “Are you sure about this? About going to college?” 

Suguru squeezed his eyes shut, shivering at the sound of Satoru's low voice. “I’m so sure.” 

“I don’t know how I’m going to keep from kissing you all evening,” he whispered. “Do you know how badly I wish we could walk in together?”

“We will be walking in together.” 

Satoru pressed his lips to the shell of Suguru’s ear and kissed it, his white hair tickling Suguru’s cheek. “You know what I mean.” 

“Yeah,” he said, his heart breaking, pounding, and racing all at once. “I know.” 

Satoru pulled away and eyed the front entrance decorated with purple and gray balloons. “No one can see us right now,” he said, turning back. “Can I kiss you? Just once?” 

Suguru grinned and closed the gap between them. The kiss was gentle with the hope of lasting them until the end of the dance. Suguru tasted the strawberries on Satoru's mouth and had to force himself to stop. 

“Let’s go,” Suguru said, resting his forehead against Satoru’s. “I have to pick up my camera from the yearbook room.” 

Satoru sighed. “You’re on yearbook duty?” 

“Always.” 

“Sugu,” he droned. “Who will I spend the dance with?” 

“I’m sure there’ll be plenty of people dying for your company.” 

With a laugh, Satoru said, “I’ll be counting the moments until we’re alone again.” 

Suguru snorted and reached for the door, knowing that if they stalled in the car for much longer, he’d have been content to stay there forever.

. . .

After sneaking his camera from the yearbook room, Suguru was met with elaborate prom decorations and a dense crowd of upperclassmen in the gymnasium. As if on instinct, he snapped a photo, admiring the student council’s good work. 

Fairy lights lined the ceiling along with a heavy-looking disco ball, causing Suguru to wonder how they’d even gotten it up there. According to the sign out front, the prom theme was “Dancing in the Moonlight” which was both extremely cheesy and partly endearing, especially since they’d had the same theme all four years he’d gone to school there. He didn’t know what “Dancing in the Moonlight” actually entailed, but he appreciated the romanticization of it all. 

Satoru had gone in without him, and as Suguru scanned the crowd for a hint of his white hair, Hina tapped his shoulder. He knew it was her without even looking. 

“Hey,” he said over the bass-boosted music. “You look nice.” 

She grinned and gestured to her dark blue dress. It hugged her curves nicely, accented with specks of silver glitter. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were hitting on me.” 

He laughed, throwing his head back. “You’re so full of jokes, aren’t you?” 

“If I don’t joke about my previous crush on you, who will?” 

“Maybe it’s not a joking matter,” Suguru teased, aiming his camera at her. 

She blew him a kiss, the moment captured with a flash. “You’d be surprised to know that I came here with a date.”

Suguru raised his eyebrows. “Did you?” 

“Yeah,” she said. “You know him.” 

Suguru hardly knew anyone. “I doubt that.” 

“You do, though,” she said, standing on her tiptoes in an effort to point him out. She said his name, but, unsurprisingly, it didn't ring a bell. “He was there the night we played seven minutes.” 

Suguru realized then, with much astonishment, that she was referring to Bug Boy. Of course, he shouldn’t call him Bug Boy in front of Hina. Still, he couldn’t stop himself. “Bug Boy?” he asked, crinkling his nose. “I hate that guy.” 

“Suguru, why did you call him Bug Boy?” she asked, glaring. “Sure, he’s got big eyes, but you really shouldn’t bully him.” 

“The term is meant to be endearing.” 

She gave him a side-eye. “Sure it is,” she said, sarcasm weighing her voice. 

Suguru caught a glimpse of Bug Boy from across the gym, his eyes framed by a pair of black-rimmed glasses. “I think the hatred is mutual,” Suguru admitted, recalling the past school year with a shiver. He remembered the bonfire, the Homecoming Dance, the Halloween party, all of it coming back to him in Bug Boy infused horror. 

“That doesn’t even make sense,” she said, waving Bug Boy over. 

He acknowledged her, his eyes somehow getting bigger. Then, he noticed Suguru, his eyes getting as small as they could possibly get (which was still rather big). Hina waved him over, and he weaved his way through the crowd. 

“Maybe he does hate you,” she said, cringing. “He definitely squinted.” 

“His squint is my natural eye position.” 

Her lips narrowed, obviously hiding a laugh. “No wonder you got a black eye that one time,” she said. “You’re rude.” 

Despite how spot on she was, Suguru kept the logistics of his black eye between himself and Bug Boy. It seemed they had an unspoken agreement to never acknowledge it again. 

“Hey, Hina,” Bug Boy said, hanging close to her opposite shoulder. “Hey, Suguru.” 

Suguru never claimed to be an expert in social interactions, and in retrospect, what he did next was totally weird. “Do you want me to take your picture?” he asked, immediately regretting it. He held his camera up in a mock photographer stance and pretended to click the button. It was excruciating. 

“Uh, sure,” Bug Boy said, resting a tentative arm around Hina’s shoulder and smiling at the camera. 

Suguru hid behind the flash for a split second, cursing himself for being so damn awkward. No matter how much Satoru hounded him, he knew he’d never be able to change. “So,” he said, letting the camera hang loose around his neck. “How’d you get Hina to say yes to you?” 

Hina’s eyes widened, her head swiveling between the two of them. “Suguru–” 

“I’m lucky, aren’t I?” Bug Boy said, the ghost of a civil smile lifting the corners of his mouth. “Where’s your date, Suguru?” 

“I don’t have one.” 

Hina’s face fell in disappointment. “Why not?” she asked, turning her attention to the crowd, no doubt looking for Satoru. “I thought we talked about this.” 

“Talked about what?” Suguru asked. 

“You know,” Hina implied. “The thing .” 

Suguru knew she meant Satoru, but he didn’t have the heart to tell her he still hadn’t done it. At least not fully. Satoru hadn’t heard those three words come out of Suguru's mouth. There had been variations but nothing explicitly stated. If Suguru had, he and Satoru would’ve gone to the dance together, damn what anyone else thought. 

“Yeah, Suguru, the thing ,” Bug Boy repeated, mockingly raising his eyebrows. 

Suguru would’ve given anything to be side by side with Satoru. Where was he? “Do you mind if we talk?” he asked without thinking it through first. The regret was overwhelming before Bug Boy even responded. 

“Shall I follow you into the hallway?” he asked. “Are you sure you don’t need back up?” 

Hina looked between them with utter confusion. “What’s going on?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Lead the way, Suguru,” he said, ignoring Hina’s question. 

An awful fear squirmed in Suguru’s stomach, almost to the point of making him sick. He may have been four inches taller than Bug Boy and toned with years of basketball conditioning, but none of that eased his anxieties. Despite it all, Suguru said, “No problem.” 

Suguru spun toward the exit, leaving Hina all alone. He felt guilty about that part, but this conversation was a long time coming. He clenched and unclenched his fists, trying and failing to ease the tension from his muscles. 

Once they were out of earshot, hidden in an empty, poorly-lit hallway next to a water fountain, Bug Boy spoke first, “Want another go at me or something?” 

The muffled music leaked through the cheap wooden door as Suguru said, “I’m dying to know. Why are you obsessed with me?” 

“Obsessed with you?” he scoffed. “ Please .” 

“Then what’s the deal?” he asked. “Your snide comments at the bonfire. Your little intervention at the Homecoming Dance. Not to mention Halloween. And now you're with Hina?” 

“ Exactly ,” Bug Boy said, like the point was blatantly obvious. “I’m with Hina. Mission accomplished.” 

“Wait, so–” 

“You are dense, Suguru, I swear,” he said. “Don’t you know Hina has a crush on you?” 

“I was aware –” 

“And I didn’t want that, okay?” he explained. “If I could prove you were off the market, then she would have no choice but to ditch the idea.” 

“So you would out me just to get with her? Is that it?” 

Bug Boy paused, his shoulders dropping. “Well, I never really thought of it like that.” 

“Funny, because that’s exactly how it is.” 

“So you admit it, then?” he asked, smiling. “You’re in love with Satoru?” 

“I didn’t say that –” 

“Oh, but you did, though.” 

“When?” 

Bug Boy smiled again, the gesture somehow endearing. “Believe it or not, I’m happy for you,” he said. “It wasn’t hard to figure out that Satoru was into you, but figuring out you were into him was a different story.” 

Suguru blushed, somewhat frustrated. “ I didn’t know… or rather, I didn’t want to admit it.” 

“So you are admitting it?” 

Suguru sighed in frustration. “To you, yes.” 

“To Hina?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. It was almost a plea. 

“She already knows.” 

Via some miracle, Bug Boy’s eyes got even wider. “What do you mean she already knows?” he asked. 

“Exactly what it sounds like.” 

“How the fuck did she know before me?” 

“Because I…” Suguru trailed off, not wanting to disclose the embarrassing shitstorm that was Halloween night. 

“Because you what?” 

“She just found out.” 

Bug Boy glared, obviously not satisfied. “ How ?” 

Desperate to avoid the topic of seven minutes at all costs, Suguru said, “She walked in on Satoru and me at the New Year’s party.” 

“Doing what?” 

Suguru rolled his eyes. “I’m sure you can figure that out on your own.”

Bug Boy smiled again, genuine and congratulatory. “You know, Suguru, I was rooting for you this whole time.” 

“Just stay out of it from now on, will you?” 

“Sure thing,” he said, shrugging. “I don’t suppose we’ll ever speak after this, huh?” 

“No.” 

Bug Boy laughed and gave Suguru a grateful look. “Just to be clear, you don’t like Hina?” 

“No.” 

“Or girls?” 

Suguru snorted with amusement. “No.” 

“Okay, then,” he said, awkwardly looking back toward the gym. “I’m sorry for… doing all that stuff.” 

Suguru smiled and rolled his eyes. “Can I really be mad at you?” he asked. “You were right all along.” 

Bug Boy sighed, opening his mouth to speak, closing it, and then opening it again. “Do you think I have a chance with Hina?” 

“She was defending you to me, so yeah, I think so.” 

“You were insulting me?” he asked. 

Suguru only shrugged, his cheeks burning. “It wasn’t too bad.” 

Bug Boy only laughed, motioning for Suguru to follow him back to the dance. “I won’t tell anyone about you and Satoru,” he said, pausing with his hand on the door handle. “I promise.” 

For some reason, Suguru believed him.  

. . .

After five minutes of taking photos of random students (their names were utter mysteries), Suguru finally found Satoru leaning against the wall by the punch fountain. He’d ditched his jacket and his sleeves were rolled, exposing his forearms. He didn’t notice Suguru until the camera flashed. 

“I feel like I could sue you for that,” Satoru said, gesturing toward the camera. 

“This is a public school,” Suguru argued, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with him. “I can take pictures of whoever I want.” 

“How many pictures of me will end up in the yearbook?” Satoru complained.

“I don’t know,” Suguru said, shrugging. “I only take the photos. I don’t choose them or anything.” 

“Where were you just now?” he asked, seemingly out of the blue. “I was looking everywhere for you.” 

Suguru turned, his eyes locking with Satoru’s. “Taking photos.” 

“That’s not all.” 

“What are you saying?” 

Satoru paused, pursing his lips. “Were you with someone?” 

“Just Hina.” 

“Were you with Bug Boy?” he asked, smirking. “Hina told me you were.” 

Suguru grinned, looking down.

“Funny,” Satoru said, a laugh in his voice. 

“What’s funny?” 

“Just that if I said his actual name, you’d have no idea who I was talking about.” 

Suguru nodded, smiling at himself. “That’s such a fatal flaw.” 

“Would it be selfish of me to wish it stayed that way?” Satoru asked over the music. The twinkle lights sparkled in his hair and gleams from the disco ball flowed across his face in colorful intervals. “There’s something extremely validating about being one of the only people you care to know.” 

Suguru wanted to kiss him, his body aching with the desire. He might’ve done it if the song hadn’t changed so abruptly, the melody slowing down completely. The easy notes echoed around the gym, reverberating in Suguru’s chest. He stared at Satoru, mostly because he didn’t want to do anything else. 

“Will you dance with me?” Satoru asked, almost pleading. “Just one song.” 

Suguru grinned, placing his camera on one of the side tables. “Privately?” 

Satoru nodded and gestured toward the side exit of the gym, the same one that led to the outdoor basketball courts. It was propped open, the grass outside lit by a dim dusk-to-dawn light. 

“That seems risky,” Suguru admitted. 

Satoru rolled his eyes. “We’ll only be out there until the end of the song, alright?” he said over the music. 

With one last, paranoid look at the maze of slow dancing couples, Suguru sighed in submission, his body humming with the promise of closeness. “Fine.” 

Satoru’s smile widened as he grabbed Suguru’s wrist and dragged him along. “I love it when you’re unenthusiastically enthusiastic.” 

“How did you say that without stuttering?” 

Satoru laughed. “Don’t ask me to say it again.” 

Suguru was laughing too when they stepped through the door. The mid-spring warmth cleared his head, causing him to see Satoru differently. He seemed more real, more attainable. Like, for the first time since he’d known him, Satoru was right there, living and breathing and loving him back. 

“Should I place my hands on your waist?” Satoru asked, tentatively slipping his hands underneath the flaps of Suguru’s jacket. His body heat radiated through Suguru’s thin dress shirt, pouring into him sticky and hot. 

“Why, of all things, is this awkward for you?” he asked, snaking his arms around Satoru’s neck and pulling him closer. Suguru could smell his subtle cologne and his strawberry breath, mingling together around his head like a cloud. 

“I just want to make sure you’re okay with this,” he said, burying his face in the crook of Suguru’s neck. 

“I’m okay.” 

Satoru buried his face further, almost as if he could get underneath Suguru’s skin. “I know you don’t want anyone to see us–” 

“No one’s going to see us.” 

Satoru sighed, swaying back and forth to the music. It was low and melodic, undoing the tension from Suguru’s muscles. Suguru loved it. He loved how steady his heart beat along with Satoru’s, the blood rushing softly in his ears.  

They danced like that through the first chorus and the second verse, neither one of them daring to speak. Not until Satoru asked, “Can I stay the night with you?” His hands pressed consolingly against Suguru’s back. “I think I might need to.” 

“Why would you need to?” Suguru asked, his lips grazing the shell of Satoru’s ear. 

“Just say I can stay the night, okay?” 

“You can stay the night.” 

“Perfect.” 

Suguru laughed, the sound carrying sweetly with the final chorus of the song. “I might need you to stay the night too.” 

Satoru gently squeezed Suguru around the middle. “Yeah,” he breathed into Suguru’s ear. “I want you constantly, Sugu. Constantly .” 

Suguru couldn’t help but compare this to Homecoming. He remembered spinning aimlessly with Satoru around the gym, the whole memory a whirlwind of intoxicating confusion. But now, just outside the prom in the freshly mown grass, he swayed with Satoru amidst the beauty of assurances and committed the moment to memory. 

“Satoru,” he said as the song came to a resounding end. “I’m sure they’ll be announcing the prom court soon.” 

A more upbeat song started and they stopped swaying, but Satoru’s arms remained secure around Suguru. “Do you think I’ll be the king?” he asked, borderline sarcastic. 

Suguru broke away despite his body begging him to stay right where he was. “Yes, I do,” he said through a laugh.

“What’s your evidence?” he asked, leading Suguru back to the beautifully-lit gym. They slipped through the crack in the door, returning to their place next to the punch fountain as unsuspicious as possible. “Am I regal?” 

“Based on your number of valentines, I can deduce that you’ll be prom king,” Suguru said. “However, I don’t think ‘regal’ is the right term for you.” 

“Then what is?” 

“I don’t know,” Suguru mused, pretending to think. “Maybe tyrannical.” 

Satoru glared over his glass of punch. “I don’t know what that means, but it sounds rude.” 

Suguru laughed. The response on the tip of his tongue was stolen by the abrupt end of the music. His biology teacher tapped the microphone to test it, a muffled screech bouncing off the walls. 

“All the ballots from the prom court vote are officially in and accounted for,” he said. The rest of his little speech droned like tv static in Suguru’s ears. He grabbed his camera and readied it, waiting patiently for the winners to be crowned. 

They announced the king first. Satoru won by a landslide, because of course he did. They called his name mid sip of punch, and he almost choked on his way to the front of the room. Suguru snapped his photo a couple times, smiling behind his camera when he was crowned. The height difference between him and their biology teacher was quite comical. 

The queen was announced a moment later, her name going in one ear and out the other, but nonetheless, Suguru recognized her from Halloween. He recalled her face from that night and couldn’t help but obsess over how, in all likelihood, she’d kissed Satoru in that cursed closet. Probably even more than just that. 

As was customary, another slow song played for the king and queen to dance to alone. Satoru placed his hands on her waist without a moment's hesitation. She leaned into him a little too much for Suguru’s liking, but, if he was being honest, her even looking at Satoru made him itch with discomfort. 

To distract himself, Suguru lifted his camera and snapped a few more photos of Satoru and the queen, their crowns gleaming in the flash. It wasn’t long before other couples started to dance along with them. Suguru noticed Hina and Bug Boy in the far corner. Hina was talking, her mouth moving a mile a minute, and Bug Boy only listened with his hands on her waist, hearts practically popping out of his big eyes. 

Suguru took their photo from across the room and turned his attention back to Satoru, because he simply couldn’t help it. He regretted it almost immediately as he saw what happened next through his camera lens. 

She kissed him, slow and on the mouth. 

It seemed to last forever, Suguru’s mind making sure he didn’t miss a single beat. Satoru broke away, flushed red with embarrassment. He smiled that boyish smile of his. The one he used when he tried to please people. His lips moved quickly, frantic to explain something he couldn’t exactly explain without breaking his promise. 

Suguru let his camera hang loose around his neck, and despite a futile attempt to stop himself, he left the gym with a pounding heart and sweaty hands. He knew the feeling all too well, but now, with the reminder of Satoru’s embrace still clinging around his shoulders, he understood how to define it. 

Jealousy. He’d been jealous so many times before, but no amount of experience could dull the familiar sting in his chest. It pulsed through his body, buzzing in his limbs and closing his throat. Once he made it to their lunch spot under the stairs, all he could do was lean against the wall, his mind racing with irrationality. 

In one, two, hold… a long exhaled three. Repeat.

In one, two, hold… a long exhaled three. Repeat. 

It wasn’t long until he was calm again, his body still thrumming with jealous pains. Through his apprehension, Suguru planned his return to the gym. He wanted to go home with Satoru and pull him eagerly into his bedroom, the clinks and whirs of the ceiling fan easing them both onto the mattress. Suguru wanted to kiss him until they were both breathless and uncomfortable in their dress clothes, not stopping until…

Suguru lost his breath again just thinking about it. He forced the thoughts from his mind, needing to lessen the sharpness at the base of his stomach. Because once that song was over, Satoru would be looking for him and–

“Sugu?” It was Satoru’s voice, worried and lovely. 

Suguru spun around. “Yes?” 

Their eyes met, and Suguru’s heart liquified behind his ribs. 

“You saw, didn’t you?” 

“I saw.” 

Satoru was in pain. His eyebrows bunched together, and his mouth parted with the weight of unsaid explanations. “You know it didn’t mean anything, okay? I didn’t even kiss her back –” 

The mere sight of Satoru made the forbidden feeling squirm in his stomach again, but this time, Suguru didn't have the will to shove it down. The deep, desperate wanting overtook him. It coursed through his bloodstream like molten heat, forcing him to grab Satoru by the collar and pull him closer. Their lips crashed together, messy and uncoordinated. 

Satoru was quick to adapt, the initial shock wearing off when Suguru backed him into the wall. He groaned as Suguru’s tongue slid past his lips, feeling out Satoru’s teeth and swiping along the roof of his mouth. They kissed like that for a moment. Pushing and pulling, bending and unbending until Suguru started to ache. He was panting and gasping between kisses, having to shrug off his now too-tight jacket. 

One hand untucked Satoru’s shirt while the other laced itself with Satoru’s fingers, pinning him firmly against the concrete wall. Suguru’s head swam when he shifted his knee between Satoru’s legs, grinning into their kiss. 

“Satoru,” he said, breathless. “I want you.”

“You have me,” he said, chest heaving. 

“You know what I mean,” Suguru whispered, almost whining. “ Now .” 

Satoru’s response was cut short when Suguru shifted his knee, applying more pressure between Satoru's legs. “I have to be back within the next five minutes for our prom court group photo,” he explained, unconsciously moving against Suguru’s knee. 

“You don’t think I could get you off in five minutes?” Suguru asked, sliding a hand up Satoru’s shirt. 

“You could –” 

“I bet I could do it in three.” 

“Oh, my God , Sugu,” Satoru breathed, his hand twitching in Suguru’s grasp. 

With a stroke of pure confidence and residual jealousy, Suguru smiled before whispering in Satoru’s ear. “Why don’t I do what Ghost Boy did to you?” 

Satoru squirmed, his back arching into Suguru. “You don’t have to do that,” he promised, though the frailness of his voice revealed what he really wanted. 

Ignoring his assurances, Suguru messed with Satoru’s belt, slowly undoing it. “When he was sucking you off, did you imagine me?” Suguru asked, grinning as Satoru hardened against his leg. “Did you imagine me doing it instead?” 

“ Suguru ,” he groaned, almost as a warning when Suguru’s hand slipped into his pants. It was times like this, when they were inexplicably intimate, that Satoru would use his full name, every syllable rolling reverently off his tongue. 

“What is it?” Suguru asked, palming him through his boxers. 

Satoru threw his head back with a low sigh. “You could probably get me off in two minutes,” he said, shifting his hips upward into Suguru’s hand. 

At that, Suguru took his hand away and kissed him, gentle and earnest. “Not yet,” he said, slowly sinking to his knees. “I wanted to touch you this way.” 

Satoru stared down at him with desperate eyes. His face flushed, his hair ran through… Suguru memorized the sight of him, fighting every urge to touch himself through the fabric of his suit. 

“You don’t have to,” Satoru said again, swallowing hard when Suguru pulled at his pants. A million thoughts flashed behind his eyes, the anticipation making his lips part. 

“I want to, Satoru,” he said with a suggestive glance upward. “Tell me if I do something you don’t like, okay?” 

Satoru nodded, watching as Suguru’s delicate fingers grazed up his legs. Satoru’s thigh twitched when Suguru brought the touch higher and higher before bringing it down again. He wrapped his hands around the backs of Satoru’s legs and traced easy semicircles behind his knees. Suguru leaned in with his mouth and sighed a hot breath against the strain in Satoru’s boxers before pressing his lips against him. 

Satoru’s fingers tapped erratically against the wall, his chest heaving and his pupils blowing over. He hummed when Suguru started to suck him through the fabric. “ Fuck ,” he groaned, placing a hand over his own mouth. 

Suguru pulled away, wetting his lips. “I could probably do it through the fabric,” he said, flashing an amused grin.

“Suguru,” Satoru said, his voice breathy and wanting. “Please just do something .” 

Suguru breathed a laugh, rolling his tongue against the wet spot on Satoru’s boxers. He slipped his fingers under the waistband and slid them over the angular jut in Satoru’s hip. He hissed at the change in temperature, arching his back into the wall. He gasped, seemingly determined not to moan as Suguru exhaled warmly against him. 

A brief twinge of anxiety rocked through Suguru, making his throat twinge. It stemmed from his inexperience, but he resigned to ignore it as the desire to pleasure Satoru overwhelmed him. He wet his lips again and barely took Satoru in his mouth. 

“ God ,” Satoru moaned, unable to stop his hips from pressing forward. 

Suguru pinned him back against the wall, his hands gripping tightly to Satoru’s thighs. He pulled his mouth away, a string of saliva snapping against his chin. “Too much?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Too good, ” Satoru said, a blush spreading down his neck and disappearing into the wrinkled collar of his dress shirt. “Suguru, I’m telling you, I–” 

Before Satoru could get the words out, Suguru took him deeper, using his hand to stroke the places his mouth couldn’t reach. Satoru groaned, the sound coming not from his throat but from deep within him, maybe his chest or his stomach. He squirmed, his hands gripping desperately at the wall for any kind of leverage. He slid over the divot in Suguru’s tongue, rocking rhythmically into the warmth of his mouth. 

The air between them was hot and humid, heavy with Satoru’s deepening groans and the wet sounds of Suguru’s throat. Satoru’s eyes fluttered but he refused to close them, too obsessed with the sight of Suguru to miss a single second. 

“ Right there ,” he sighed when Suguru’s tongue swirled, so he did it again and again until Satoru was a gasping mess. He rubbed over raised veins and hot, hot skin, causing Satoru to jerk and tremble, his high building and building. With eager desperation, Satoru raked his fingers through Suguru’s bangs, tugging them away from his face. His hands tightened and loosened in Suguru’s hair, almost as a warning. 

“Suguru,” Satoru groaned, trying to get his attention. “ Suguru. ” 

He glanced up, smirking around Satoru before lazily swirling his tongue again. 

Satoru tensed and twitched in his mouth, his back arching forward. “Suguru, I’m serious, I– fuck –I'm really close, and you don't have to–” 

Satoru’s legs quaked and tensed as his words stopped short. He covered his mouth again, trying his best to mute his moans. Suguru squeezed his throat around Satoru one more time, and that was all it took. The hands in his hair tightened as Satoru rode out his high. Suguru kept his mouth on him, feeling the warmth drip down his throat. He tasted Satoru, his eyes fluttering at the intimacy. 

Satoru crumbled to the floor in front of him, his face flushed and his muscles limp from the constant tensing. Suguru swallowed as he counted Satoru’s breaths, his chest rising and falling in rapid intervals. 

“Good?” Suguru asked, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. 

Satoru opened his eyes and leaned forward to kiss him, tasting himself on Suguru's mouth. “ So good,” he said, giving Suguru one last kiss before leaning back to fix his pants. “But I thought you said we weren't going to be engaging in sexual activities on school property? I explicitly remember that coming out of your mouth.” 

“Since the cameras can’t reach us back here, I made an exception.” Suguru laughed, needing to kiss Satoru again. The kiss was brief and soft, heavy with the words Suguru had yet to say out loud. 

I love you , he thought, his body aching with the truth of it. 

“Sugu?” Satoru said. 

“Yeah?” 

“How am I going to move on from this? There's no way I'll be able to stop thinking about you now.”

“And you could before?” Suguru asked, smiling. 

“No,” he admitted. “No, I couldn't before, but at least it was somewhat bearable.”

“That good, huh?” 

Satoru nodded, his eyes still painfully dilated. “ So good, Sugu,” he said. “But honestly, even if it wasn’t, I’d still get off on it. I’m blinded by love.” 

Suguru's smile widened, his face hot. “Shouldn’t you get back to the dance, your majesty?” he asked. “I'm sure your subjects are confused by your absence.” 

Satoru laughed, leaning to kiss Suguru again. “I love you,” he said, repeating it over and over on the slow walk through the dimly-lit hallways and back to the prom.

Chapter Text

Graduation was two school days away, and emotions were high.

Graduation had been a dream for Suguru, and it still felt like one despite how close it was. Technically, now that the final bell had rang, there was only one school day left. Even though everyone else had gone home, Suguru stalled on the bench outside, waiting impatiently for Satoru. 

“Whatcha doin’?” Satoru asked as he stepped outside, the metal door clanging behind him. He stretched out beside Suguru on the bench and not-so-subtly wrapped an arm around his shoulders. 

“Just thinking,” Suguru said. 

Satoru hummed, a spring breeze blowing his hair back. “Good thoughts?” 

“Kind of.” 

He groaned. “Are you gonna make me ask?” 

Suguru grinned, leaning into Satoru’s side. “I was just thinking about how we’re graduating soon. As in, like, a matter of days.” 

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you worried?” 

“I’m always worried.” 

Satoru laughed, and Suguru wondered if he’d ever get used to the sound. Every time felt like the first. “It’s okay, Sugu,” he promised. “After graduation, we won’t ever have to come back again.” 

“That’s the problem.” 

Satoru smiled. “Are you, by any chance, actually sad about leaving North High?”

“I don’t think ‘sad’ is the right term.” 

“Fine, ‘melancholic’ then?” 

Suguru glared. “Sure.” 

“Did you just say that so we wouldn’t argue?”

Suguru grinned. “Maybe.” 

“In that case, I’ll change the subject to how I got approved for graduation just now,” Satoru said, shaking his form emphatically in the wind. “Can you believe it?” 

“So that’s where you were?” Suguru asked, slightly irritated with having to hang around the parking lot for more than ten extra minutes. 

“Well, Sugu, don’t sound so enthused.” 

“I just think it’s a little ridiculous that you just now applied. You do realize how close it is, right? Besides, the deadline for that was last Monday.” 

“You’re just mad you had to wait a little longer today,” Satoru teased. “You wouldn’t have to wait if you had your driver’s license.” 

“Don’t act like you wouldn’t insist on driving me even if I did have my license.” 

Satoru opened his mouth to protest, closed it, then opened it again. “You’re so right,” he said, laughing at himself. “I don’t think I could bear riding in my car without you for more than five minutes.” 

“Speaking of riding in the car, can we go home now?” Suguru asked, smiling. 

“ Actually ,” Satoru said, his voice pitching up to lessen the blow. “I was wondering if you wanted to walk down the pond with me.” 

“Right now?” Suguru droned, giving him a glare.

“Yes,” he said, partly wincing. “Right now.” 

“If I’m picking up what I think you’re putting down, why don’t we just make out at my house instead?”

“Sugu, that’s not what I’m talking about. Although, that would be a nice bonus–” 

“What are you talking about then?” 

Satoru smiled, his whole face lighting up. “I just wanted to get some sunshine. That’s all.” 

“Sounds like there’s a secret ulterior motive you’re refusing to disclose.” 

“I would never do that.” 

“You would and you have,” Suguru said. 

Satoru sighed, leaning close to whisper in Suguru’s ear. “Please,” he asked. “One of my favorite memories with you is at the pond, and I’d love to go one more time before we graduate.” 

Not that he ever wanted to, but Suguru simply couldn’t say no to him. “Favorite memory?” 

“We don’t have to stay for long,” he said, still whispering close to Suguru’s ear. “I just wanted to be somewhere alone with you.” 

Suguru let out a shaky breath. “Fine,” he said, barely able to get the word out. 

Satoru kissed him on the cheek before pulling away, a smug grin on his face. “I knew the whispering would get you.” 

“Don’t ruin this.” 

Satoru laughed, shoved the graduation form in his pocket, and held out his hand for Suguru. “Let’s go to the pond before my spell on you wears off.” 

Suguru took his hand and swung their arms as they walked through the empty parking lot. It was that weird time in mid afternoon where things were oddly nostalgic, the sweet air reminding Suguru of springs long gone. Satoru took the same route as last fall, making the nostalgia stronger. It ached fondly in Suguru’s chest and pulsed underneath his skin. 

After a moment, Satoru broke the silence. “What are you going to major in, Sugu?” he asked, kicking a piece of gravel down the hill. “It’s okay if you don’t know. I was just wondering.” 

“I think I’ll do journalism or something,” he admitted, having talked it through with his mother countless times. “I like being behind the camera.” 

Satoru gave his hand a tight squeeze. “I think that’s perfect.” 

He smiled at Satoru’s confidence. It eased every worry he could’ve possibly had. “You do?” 

“Maybe don’t be a reporter or anything like that,” Satoru clarified. “There’s no way in hell you could navigate an interview with someone, which is such a shame because you’re gorgeous and belong in front of the camera.” 

Suguru sighed. “And here I was feeling all confident about myself.” 

“I’m just being honest with you, Sugu. You’re so awkward sometimes.” 

“I’m aware,” Suguru said through gritted teeth, watching as Satoru’s gravel piece tumbled into the grass at the end of the hill. “You don’t have to say it out loud.” 

Satoru grinned, rubbing his thumb across the back of Suguru’s hand. “Although impractical, I think your social anxiety is endearing.” 

Suguru’s glare intensified. “You’re on a roll today, huh?” 

“Maybe,” he said, grinning. “I’m just glad you found something you want to do.” 

Compared to the previous fall, the grass was grown over, reaching up past Suguru’s ankles. The day was considerably warm too, making sweat glisten down their backs and across their foreheads. 

“The term ‘want’ is debatable,” Suguru said. 

“Would ‘tolerate’ be more accurate?” 

Suguru laughed as they entered the tree line, the sound mixing with the gentle rustle of the newly-grown leaves. “What about you, Satoru? What are you majoring in?” 

“Business.” 

“Lame.” 

“But it’s doable ,” Satoru said, defending himself. “And low maintenance.” 

“You really just want to play more basketball, don’t you?”

Satoru smiled as the pond came into view. Chirping birds soared overhead and crowded in the trees, their wings fluttering in the wind. 

“ Maybe ,” Satoru said, his voice pitching up. “I have to have time for basketball… amongst other things.”

“What other things?” 

“Oh, you know, being with you and such.” 

“And such?” 

“Stop trying to make me say something embarrassing,” Satoru complained, sitting in the grass by the pond. He crossed his ankles and leaned his head back, his bangs falling away from his forehead. “The ‘such’ I referred to is left up to your imagination.” 

Suguru sighed and stretched out beside him. The grass was soft against his legs, small blades of it poking through his mesh shorts. “That’s a dangerous game, Satoru,” he said, letting the breeze flow over him like water. It washed away the winter’s grogginess, and, more so than usual, soaked him with his love for Satoru. It was indescribable, dense with relief and gentle adoration, all consuming yet incredibly innate. 

“Why’s it a dangerous game?” Satoru asked. 

“Because, my imagination is quite imaginative.” 

Satoru snorted with amusement and looked over, his features soft and relaxed. “Can you tell me something, Sugu?” 

“Yes,” Suguru said after a moment, not confident in his ability to articulate whatever it was Satoru wanted to hear. Yet, he had the immense desire to make sure he said it perfectly, leaving Satoru with no doubts at all. 

“What’s your favorite memory of this school year?” he asked, looking down with embarrassment. “Like the one you’ll remember for the rest of your life.” 

“All of them,” Suguru said without hesitation. He knew that was impossible but so much had happened. Everything had happened, and he simply couldn’t imagine himself forgetting a single moment. 

“But what’s the main one?” 

Trying to pinpoint proved to be difficult. There were so many moments that changed the trajectory of his friendship with Satoru. Every 13th street party came to mind, but that wasn’t all of it. Afternoons under the ceiling fan, the Homecoming dance, evenings at the lake, dead days, photography exhibits, arcades, the beach in early April, prom… 

“I can’t choose,” he said eventually, overwhelmed by the beautiful abundance of them all. 

“Do you remember when we came here during the football game last fall?” 

Suguru nodded. 

Satoru sighed before continuing, “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about what you said.” 

Suguru’s face softened, his hand reaching for Satoru’s.

“Even after all these months, am I still light blue to you?” Satoru asked. “Like you said back then?” 

Satoru wasn’t the same. He didn’t emit the same shade of blue as he had that summer and the following autumn. After his mother’s death, after all their intimate moments, after countless days in each other’s company, he realized that Satoru had changed. It was subtle, but he was brighter, more vibrant and refined. A reflection of all the things he was before and after, sapphire swirls blending newly Suguru’s chest.