Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

PRESENT DAY

The city was quieter at night, the normal rush and demands of city life melted away until it was just him. Satoru liked these solitary moments after midnight the best, a kind of peace he had grown to trust. His midnight walks were like a ritual since he had come back. He walked the same route, the same leisurely pace as he traveled through the small park path, across the high bridge, looping through the community garden, then back to his apartment. The route was warm in its familiarity, like tracing the same shape over and over on paper until it became muscle memory.

Walking brought him a peace that the walls of his high rise apartment could not. His sleep schedule was wrecked, he got two, maybe three hours a night before his mind was racing again. He couldn’t stand the emptiness of the place, of his life.

As he walked, he remembered the man he used to be. One full of hopes and dreams. He was told he was electric, bright enough to light up a room just by walking in. People gravitated towards him, they still do, because power is something people always want to sit beside. He had once been told he was the warmth in winter, the laughter that made others forget their troubles, the one who threw himself at life and made everything feel bigger. He wasn’t sure where that person went, left behind somewhere he could no longer reach.

He’d been back home for 6 months after being gone for over 5 years. That old version of himself felt impossibly far away. The change had been slow at first, almost invisible, until one day he realized he no longer recognized his own reflection. He had stepped into his designated role as expected, killing himself in the process. Whatever dreams he used to have had been beaten down long ago. Love had slipped away without warning, and friendships that once felt like lifelines had frayed to silence. Texts and calls on holidays and big events and little else. People could only tolerate so much.

From the outside, Satoru looked fine, perfect even. He had it all didn’t he? He was filthy rich, could go wherever he wanted on a whim, have whoever he wanted, be whoever he wanted and nobody cared at all because they never saw him as a person, only an asset. Even his assistant who he spent the most time with, knew very little about him, enough to schedule meetings and make sure he was where he was supposed to be on time. The rest? Nobody cared. He wore his mask well, so well it didn’t even feel like a mask sometimes.  

His mind always went back to the golden years of his life, back when everything made beautiful sense. The world had felt different then, like anything was possible. For a while, he even believed his dreams could come true. He had been certain that he was exactly where he was meant to be. He had been loved, admired, and cherished. He had let people see him, really see him, and he felt known for the first time.

But something had broken it. One moment, the season was bright and endless and then, without warning or explanation, it was burning down around him. His hands now held only ashes. He never let anyone back in after that.

So he walked, he walked to clear his mind, he walked to feel in control of something, to feel in control of anything. He never saw anyone. Not once in the six months since he’d started this strange but familiar night routine. Until tonight.

Exiting the park and approaching the bridge, his thoughts were abruptly interrupted as his eyes adjusted to the figure ahead.

A man. Standing on the ledge of the bridge. Too close to the edge, so close that a strong breeze could cause him to fall.

The man was standing incredibly still and watching the black water churn far below. The streetlamps overhead threw fractured light across his shape, catching on the curve of his jaw, the slope of his shoulders. Grey sweats, dark hoodie, no shoes. The concrete must be cold on his feet- Satoru thought as he walked closer and more of the man came into view. 

The man didn’t move, staring straight down at the dark water as though in a trance. His stillness matched the quiet of the night so perfectly that for a moment Satoru wondered if the man had been standing there for hours, if the whole city had simply grown around him and Satoru had simply missed it every time he’d walked past before.

As Satoru drew closer, recognition tugged at him, subtle at first, then sharper, until it clenched at his chest with an ache that had taken years to try to erase. Familiar. ‘I know him’ he thought.

The bridge lights shifted with a faint flicker, illuminating the man’s face. Dark hair fell forward, loose and heavy, brushing over his shoulders and down to his waist. He couldn’t see his face but he knew if he turned for even a moment…

Satoru approached slowly, each step deliberate, the soles of his shoes whispering against the concrete. The last thing he wanted was to scare him, sure that one wrong move could cause him to slip, taking his life and Satoru’s heart along with it. 

“Suguru?”

The name came out quieter than he expected, as if speaking it too loudly might shatter him.

No answer. Suguru didn’t even flinch. His gaze stayed fixed on the abyss, the water shifting and writhing like something alive far beneath them.

Satoru closed the remaining space between them until his hip brushed the cold ledge. He hesitated only a heartbeat before climbing up next to him, feeling the rough concrete under his hands, the open air yawning below.

Suguru turned then, just enough for Satoru to see his face. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes.. .God, his eyes.. ..looked like they hadn’t known sleep in weeks. Dark circles, sunken sockets, pale, wan, when had he last eaten? Satoru remembered…he had seen that look before.

Still… in the faint glow of the bridge lights, Suguru was beautiful. Always had been. Maybe more so now.. ..or maybe it was just Satoru, still seeing him the way he always had. He wanted to reach out and grab his hand, he wanted to tell him to get down, he wanted to tell him he still loved him. Instead he said,

“I bet I could do a backflip and land right back here,” Satoru said, the words tumbling out without thought. He winced but held firm. He’d try anything to divert Suguru’s attention. Anything to get his heart off this ledge.

Suguru’s head turned slightly, but their eyes didn’t meet.

“Satoru,” he said so soft, almost a whisper..

“I can do it. Backflip? Easy peasy. I can do that in my sleep! I’m going to do it,” Satoru rambled, leaning into the reckless momentum that had always been part of him. He did the math in his head.. ..sixty-forty chance of success, maybe eighty-twenty if he was being generous. He’d always been athletic, always the one to turn a risky idea into a story worth telling. And if he failed.. ..if he fell..well that would still be a story worth telling wouldn’t it? ‘CEO of Gojo Empire disappears after jumping off the Wanaka bridge.’ The thought should’ve terrified him.. ..it didn’t. If you jump, I jump, jack. 

Satoru shifted his weight, knees bending, body tensing for the flip…and then Suguru’s hand was on him. Firm. Unshaking. The grip anchored him like nothing else could.

“Stop,” Suguru commanded. Not loud, not desperate, just final.

The air between them seemed to thicken, the night suddenly too quiet. Satoru froze, the muscles in his legs coiled tight, the rest of him suspended in the weight of that one word. Stop.

Satoru blinked, startled to find Suguru’s eyes finally meeting his. For a moment, it was like stepping backward in time, like the years between them had dissolved. Suguru had a way of looking at him that nobody else did, soft and loving in a way that made Satoru’s chest ache. Admiring in a way that made his stomach twist.

Just as quickly, the warmth drained from Suguru’s face, replaced by something harder and sharper. Disbelief? Anger? Disappointment? Satoru couldn’t pin it down and before he had a moment to reflect on it, Suguru shoved him. 

The force sent Satoru stumbling backward towards the safety of the sidewalk. He landed hard on the unforgiving concrete, the shock rattling up his spine. His hand shot out to break the fall, and pain flared as his palm scraped raw against the ground. He hissed through his teeth, but before the sting could register fully, Suguru was already off the ledge and closing the distance in a few long strides.

Suguru loomed over him, his breath quick and sharp.

“What are you even doing here, huh?” Suguru’s voice was wild and broken. “Why can’t you ever just… why can’t we just.. ..fuck!” He broke off, a frustrated sound clawing its way out of his throat. His hands went to his head, fingers clutching at his hair. “Why won’t you just let me die?!”

The words hit harder than the fall. Suguru’s voice cracked on the last syllable, and then his knees buckled. He crumpled to the ground, folding in on himself, his chest heaving with violent, uncontained sobs.

Satoru could only stare. His own pulse thundered in his ears.. Because I love you he wanted to say. Because a world you don’t exist in is not a world I want to be a part of. Because, because, because. Instead he said, 

“I walk here every night.”

Suguru’s head snapped toward him, eyes red and wet. “What?” His voice was hoarse, and raw from crying.

“I walk here every night,” Satoru repeated calmly, slower this time. “Nobody is ever around. Just me. I’ve never run into anyone, not in six months of walking here. Until tonight.”

Suguru just stared, confusion cutting through the anguish for a flicker of a second.

Satoru took a breath, the air tasting like steel. “I’m not sorry for being here tonight,” he said, steady now. “I wasn’t sorry then, and I’m not sorry now. You can hate me, you can never talk to me again, you can pretend like we never knew each other.” He shook his head. “But I will never apologize. Not for that. Not for saving your life, Suguru. Not ever.”

The words hung there, heavy and unmovable, the kind of truth you couldn’t take back once spoken.

Suguru stared at him, breathing hard, expression unreadable, and then he laughed. Laughter devoid of joy, cracked and hollow filled the silence around them. 

“You think you saved me back then?” he said, shaking his head slowly, strands of dark hair falling into his face. “You didn’t save me, Satoru. You just… delayed the inevitable.”

Satoru’s throat tightened. “Don’t say that…”

“Why not? It’s true.” Suguru tried to push himself up onto his knees but all the energy had drained out of him.

“You think that was some kind of turning point for me back then? His voice trembled, not entirely from anger. “All you did was buy me time I didn’t even want. My mind is a prison, Satoru, that I can’t escape from.”

Satoru swallowed hard, but didn’t look away. “I… I know..I didn’t mean… You’re here. You’re breathing.” You're with me.

Suguru’s gaze cut into him like a knife, sharp, wet and firm. “You don’t get it. I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask to carry this around for five more fucking years.” His voice broke, quiet but jagged. “Everything I have is…. ..nothing matters to me anymore”

Satoru’s reply came low, steady. “It matters to me.” You matter to me.

Something in Suguru’s expression shifted again from anger to settle on something like grief. He looked away first, his shoulders sagging as though the fight had drained out of him all at once.

“I can’t do this right now,”Suguru muttered. “Not here and not with you.”

Satoru pushed himself to his feet, wincing as his scraped hand pushed against the concrete, and put his hand out for Suguru to help him up. Suguru stared at him but didn’t take it. 

Satoru huffed out a bitter laugh. “Fine. Can I call someone for you?” Satoru knew he must have someone to call. Someone as great as Suguru would never be truly alone.

“No. I don’t need them to.. I don’t need.. ... .I can walk.” Suguru responded. 

Satoru raised an eyebrow at him in disbelief, glancing down to his bare feet and now bloody toes from jumping and scraping across the concrete.

“I don’t live far…I’m right over there,” Suguru stated, gesturing toward a small apartment complex just before the community garden. 

Satoru stared at him dumbfounded. All this time, all his nightly walks…he had walked past Suguru’s apartment hundreds of times and he had never known? He knew moving back home was a mistake, but after working abroad for years he just wanted to be somewhere familiar again. But this? Absolutely ridiculous. Satoru had always known he was just a pawn of the universe, insignificant in the grand scheme of the world but the thought of being so close after carefully avoiding each other for years was too much to handle in this otherwise charged emotional moment between them. A laugh clawed its way up his chest and he forced it down. What a great cosmic joke. 

Satoru held out his hand again, palm open in the cool night air. Suguru stared at it like he was trying to understand it. Satoru waited longer than he should have, the silence stretching taut between them, before deciding enough was enough.

“Fine,” he muttered, reaching down and gripping Suguru’s arm with a firm, unshakable hold. The muscle was tense beneath his fingers, but Suguru didn’t resist when Satoru hauled him up to his feet.

“I’m walking you home,” Satoru said, not letting go. “I didn’t go to all this trouble to leave you bleeding on the street.” He started guiding him toward the far side of the bridge, steps purposeful. “I’m not taking no for an answer. It’s getting cold, I’m tired, and I’m about two seconds away from throwing myself off this bridge and since you seemed really against me doing that, let’s just fucking go. Stop being a bitch about it.”

A ghost of a scoff left Suguru’s throat, but he still didn’t speak. Instead, he let Satoru steer him along, the resistance melting into a weary compliance. Satoru shifted, sliding one arm around Suguru’s shoulders, pulling him close enough that their strides fell into a slow, unsteady rhythm.

Their pace was slow and by the time they reached Suguru’s apartment, the air had chilled. Satoru had never meant to stay out so long and he wasn’t dressed for it. Satoru stopped at the bottom of the steps and eased his arm away. Suguru climbed up to his apartment without looking back, his keys jangling faintly in the dark.

They didn’t speak. Maybe they didn’t need to. Maybe they had already said all the things they could ever say to each other. Satoru turned away and headed back into the night, letting the shadows close behind him.

The next evening, he walked again. And the night after that. And the one after that. He didn’t tell his feet to slow down when he reached Suguru’s street, but they did anyway, every time, like muscle memory with a mind of its own. His thoughts lingered there too, drifting back to that porch step, to the way Suguru had vanished behind the door without a single backward glance.

He knew the truth, though he didn’t like admitting it, his route had stopped being about the quiet a long time ago. And if he was honest, maybe it hadn’t been healthy for a while. They’d tried before, hadn’t they? Tried to mend things? But the pieces never fit again, some of them had been lost entirely, others too sharp to hold without bleeding.

Satoru sighed as he crossed into the community garden. Tomorrow, he told himself, he would change his route. He would make it different. He would stop walking past Suguru’s apartment. Tomorrow.

The next night, Satoru left his apartment with purpose. He was starting a new route. No bridge. No park. No Suguru.

He turned right instead of left, letting the unfamiliar streets stretch out ahead of him. Streetlamps hummed above cracked sidewalks, their cones of yellow light catching on old brick facades and shuttered storefronts. The air felt different here, less open.

It should have been refreshing. A clean break from the rhythm he’d been clinging to for months. Every few blocks, he’d find himself glancing down side streets, noting where they might connect back toward the bridge. He told himself it was just a habit, that his body was so used to the old route it was struggling to adapt. He kept walking.

Halfway through, he stopped in front of a small bakery with its lights still on. The smell of bread and sugar drifted out into the night, warm and sweet, and for a moment, he thought about going in. But his hands stayed in his pockets. The pull in his chest wasn’t toward the smell, it was toward somewhere else entirely.

He made it another four blocks before the decision stopped feeling like his. His feet turned. His pace quickened. And just like that, he was on the road that would take him straight past Suguru's building.

The street was darker here, the lamps spaced wider apart. His pulse picked up anyway, a restless thrum in his veins. As he approached, he slowed without thinking, eyes flicking up to the second-floor windows he knew too well.

No light. No movement.

Still, he stood there for a moment longer than he should have. Then, before he could decide what exactly he was doing, he kept walking.. ..across the park, over the bridge, through the community garden..completing the route as if nothing had changed at all.

When he finally reached his apartment door, he muttered a curse under his breath. Tomorrow, he told himself again. Tomorrow would be different.

🌟*******************************************************************🌟

Suguru couldn’t get Satoru out of his head but there was nothing real surprising about that. His heart had been buried with Satoru a long time ago, and no matter what he tried and no matter who he tried to replace him with, he could never dig it back up. The emptiness wasn’t just inside him now; it was him. The marrow of his bones, the static in his head, the drag in his every breath.

He didn’t expect to see Satoru that night. Hell, he didn’t expect to see anyone. He’d planned this carefully, thought through every detail like it was an exam he couldn’t afford to fail. Notes written. Arrangements made. Loose ends tied off. The bridge was picked for its height, its darkness, its view of the water that would take him. Tonight, he was finally going to do it. Because the misery wasn’t fading. The pain in his chest wasn’t softening with time like people promised. It was a constant pressure like an anvil on his ribs, an ache that was present when he woke and did not relent until sleep finally stole him away for a few hours of peace.

He had tried. God, he had tried. The list from his therapist played like a litany in his head.

Find something you’re passionate about.. ..photography. Check. He’d wandered forests and city streets, capturing light in all its fleeting shapes. Sometimes he even convinced himself he liked the results.

Find someone you care about.. ..Satoru. Un-check, crossed out. And after Satoru, two or three others who barely made a dent in the emptiness. Names he didn’t want taking up space in his mind, their presence unable to fill the void within him. He cared about some of them, maybe it was even borderline love, it just wasn’t the same. It wasn’t enough, it never seemed to hit that space deep inside him that was forever reserved for one. Sometimes he hated it.

Maintain a healthy diet—kind of check. Eating was work now, and he rarely had the appetite for it. Sometimes days went by before he realized how little he’d put in his body. He ate out of necessity not pleasure, most food tasting like ashes in his mouth. 

Maintain physical health—check, check, check. This was the easy one. During his third year of college he dove back into martial arts like it was his job. He’d push his body until his muscles trembled and his legs gave out. Anything to stop the madness in his head. It was routine now, but it only helped in the moment. Afterwards, the pain just helped remind him how fragile he was. 

Establish a regular sleep schedule—sure, if you could call three hours here, two there “regular.” Sleep never came easy for him, especially when he wasn’t out on assignment. Being stuck in an office everyday had never been for him and returning each night to the silence of an empty apartment, the ghost of another that had once fit beside him perfectly. The wrongness of the replacements he had chosen. Sleep remained elusive, his mind was never quiet. 

None of it worked.

On a beach with his friends, the sun painting gold on their laughing faces and he felt nothing but the ache of being apart from it all. They glowed; he didn’t. Even surrounded by the laughter of the people he loved the most, he carried around a deep melancholy. When they would finally coax him into the water, it felt like drowning. 

None of it worked.

In a forest, bent over wildflowers and insects, his camera captured details most people missed and he thought only of how much more vivid it would all look through Satorus’s eyes. How much more alive it would feel with Satoru’s voice in his ear.

None of it worked.

In the bed of someone whose name he didn’t care to remember, whose touch was rough and unfamiliar, he thought only of pale skin and soft white hair, of hands that had never been calloused, of eyes as blue as the sky that could see straight through him. He’d drift in and out of the moment, wishing himself elsewhere entirely.

None of it worked.

Even when he was training.. .. fighting kicking, punching, feeling his knuckles split and skin bruise, the pain was small compared to the hollow burning through his chest. It didn’t match the ache of longing, the regret, the cowardice of choices made and unmade.

None of it ever worked. The routines, the medications, the people… ..

So this time, he had a plan. And this time, it would work. Not like last time. This time there would be no Satoru to ruin it, no Satoru to grab him back from the hands of death. His friends? Easy to push away. His lovers? Easier still. They called and he ignored them. They texted and he ignored those too. When he did reply his answers were short - busy - working- maybe later. They invited him to events and he promised to be there. He never showed.

Nobody could reach him now. Except Satoru, because from him, Suguru had never been able to hide. But Satoru was gone, because Suguru had made sure of it hadn’t he. He had pushed him so perfectly away that even though they probably still had some of the same friends, they never crossed paths, not once in five years. Not once since the spring of their sophomore year of college and the last look he ever saw on Satoru’s face still haunts him all these years later. 

The walk to the bridge was easier than it should have been. He felt… hollow. The pain he carried day in and day out had gone quiet, retreating into the corners of himself, like it knew he was about to erase it. The numbness was almost a relief. He noticed, briefly as the cold seeped into his skin, that he hadn’t grabbed shoes. 

The city was unrecognizable at this hour. Suguru was never out this late unless drunk, staggering home from some bar. Now, sober, the stillness was startling. No horns. No footsteps. No voices bleeding into the night. It was almost peaceful. Almost.

The bridge rose out of the darkness ahead. Suguru didn’t slow his steps. He didn’t need to. His body knew what it was doing. He’d seen this spot in his mind for months.. ..had dreamed of it, felt it calling him on nights when the walls of his apartment closed in too tight. Tonight, there was no hesitation. No second-guessing. He climbed onto the ledge like he’d been practicing, bare toes curling over the drop, the river’s cold breath rising to meet him.

The world blurred and he watched the current, imagining the way it would swallow him. For once, he wasn’t thinking about Satoru. For once, there was no face in his mind, no voice in his ear. Just the pull. And then…

“Suguru?”

The sound cracked through the stillness, jagged and real. 

He ignored him. Satoru wasn’t here, he couldn’t be, he didn’t even live here anymore, it was some kind of dream, a bending of reality, last wishes kind of thing. Because he was dying soon right? He was finally going to be done here. 

Suguru felt Satoru climb up next to him, the idiot, was he really here? What was he doing? And then the most absurd sentence fell from his pretty lips. 

“I bet I could do a back flip and land right back here.” 

Suguru uttered the first word he had said in days then, soft, barely spoken but full of firm reprimand, pulled out of him almost by instinct alone, the way he had always responded to Satoru’s outrageousness. 

“Satoru.”

Suguru couldn’t take his eyes off him. Watching as he rambled about being able to do it, full of confidence and bravado, just like always, like…before. He was really here, standing next to him. After all this time. 

Satoru, the glow from the streetlight poured over him in molten gold, catching on the sharp planes of his face and turning the edges of his platinum hair into a pale, liquid halo. Each strand shimmered, almost white against the dark, the brightness making him look unreal. His blue eyes, normally piercing, softened in the dim light. He looked less like someone standing on a quiet street and more like he’d stepped out of a dream, too luminous to belong to the dark.

Suguru’s chest tightened painfully. For one dizzy second, it felt like they were back where they’d been.. ..two people who knew each other completely, who had once wanted nothing but to keep knowing each other forever. 

As Satoru tensed his body preparing to flip, Suguru felt the numbness in his body fade away into panic and urgency. Satoru can’t fall! As though acting on instinct alone, his hand reached out to stop him and his mouth commanded him to stop. He couldn’t control the way he looked at him either, the way love and concern poured out of him. Suddenly he was furious. 

He pushed Satoru hard onto the concrete sidewalk and watched as he scraped his hands but it was too late now. He felt like he was out of his body, panic turned to anger because not again. Dammit not again. He was ready. He was ready! 

He watched as Satoru flinched at his words and backed away in shock as he screamed at him ‘why won’t you just let me die?’ before collapsing on the ground. The great cosmic joke of Satoru and Suguru - too in love to ever love anyone else. Too broken to ever be able to make it work. And why?! Why was he here? How was he here?

“I walk here every night,” Satoru says. And as he continues to speak, something in Suguru cracked open, and all the anger and resentment washed out of his body. Because of course Satoru would always want him to live- of course he would always try to save him. Of course he came back.

Suguru allows himself to be guided home. For the first time in what feels like forever… ..days, weeks, maybe months, he’s actually here, inside his own body, instead of lost in his own mind. Satoru’s warmth pressed against his side, solid and unshakable, yet soft in a way that made Suguru ache. He’s a contradiction equal parts comfort and chaos. Silence and thunder, light and darkness all bound up in the shape of one person. All unmistakingly.. ..Satoru. 

For the first time in a long time, in the hollow space Suguru thought had gone numb for good, something woke up. Love. Small and stubborn, pushing through the cracks like a plant left to wither in a forgotten pot, now suddenly finding sunlight and rain. It’s barely enough to live on.. ..but it’s enough to remember. Enough to remember what it felt like to be strong and whole, and maybe…enough to keep trying.

Chapter Text

September-High School- Freshman Year

Suguru met Satoru in his freshmen year of high school, just months after his family had uprooted his entire life and moved from the small coastal town he had grown up in to a new city halfway across the country. The new city was nothing like his hometown with the endless horizon and air that always smelled faintly of salt. The new town, city really, hummed with constant noise. The horizon was blocked by a jagged skyline of steel and glass reflecting the sky around it. It was.. ..an adjustment. 

Suguru had always been quiet, he wasn’t unfriendly, just careful. Most people would never get the opportunity to see the real him buried under all the layers. With his friends though, those he trusted, it was different. Around his friends, his walls came down. He laughed easy, warm and vibrant, the kind that made others laugh along even if they didn’t get the joke. His comments were punctuated by dry wit and playful teasing.  For those he allowed to get close, he was fiercely protective and thoughtful, never missing a birthday or special event. 

He was different around strangers, detached, almost cold but his behavior was not intended to be cruel. It was a habit built from years of letting the wrong people get too close. Everyone was a stranger now. He left all his friends behind 450 miles away on the coast. They kept in touch at first through text and social media and then less and less, because distance is hard and some friendships are only built around proximity. Eventually, the messages became fewer and farther apart. It wasn’t that they stopped caring about each other. The memories remained but the connection felt thinner with every week that passed. 

His new school was three times the size of his small coastal junior high school. He imagined he had only seen about 25% of the students there in passing. The cafeteria was loud, the clatter of trays, chairs, and voices bouncing off the acoustics of the walls. He was still learning his way around, where to go and what to do. Standing in line, he studied the menu wondering which option might make him not throw up later.

“I wouldn’t do that if I was you,” a low voice said at his side.

He turned around and his breath momentarily caught in his throat. How could someone just look like that? The boy standing next to him had hair that was almost silver blond and messy on the top of his head like it had been messed up on purpose. No way that color was real right?.. had to be dyed. The boy's eyes were a shade of blue that he felt entranced by. Like a kaleidoscope of blue, so many different shades, he thought he may never be able to identify them all even if he stared at him forever. Fine-boned and delicate-featured..there was something otherworldly about him, as if he’d stepped out of a painting or wandered in from a dream. He’d never seen anyone so beautiful in his entire life, not even in magazines.

“Do what?” Suguru asked in a much softer voice than expected, as though if he spoke too loud it might shatter the dream and the boy might disappear. 

“The chicken sandwich,” the boy replied with mock gravity. “They’ve been serving that since my older brother attended here, 5 years ago. Don’t do it.”

One side of his mouth tilted in the faintest smile, surprising, even to himself. 

“Okay… so what’s safe?”

“Pizza. Always the pizza. I’m Satoru, by the way, Satoru Gojo” the beautiful boy said, giving him a small two finger wave and a dazzling smile. Did he just get more beautiful?

“I’m…..Suguru…Suguru Geto” he replied as soon as his brain came back online. He ordered the pizza.

Suguru made his way to an empty table in the far corner, his usual spot that he claimed on the first day. He set down his tray preparing to grab a book out of his backpack to read while he ate. He hadn’t made any friends yet, he hadn’t really tried. He was still adjusting to his new life. 

Before he could get his book out of his bag, Satoru slid into the seat across from him, his tray clattering softly against the tabletop.

He glanced up, almost certain Satoru had made a mistake. Surely he had other friends, livelier tables waiting for him somewhere in the center of the room with people who were more interesting. People worthy of being friends with someone like him. He left his book in his backpack.

Suguru started to quietly eat without saying anything. Satoru talked and talked, barely even touching his own food. He told him about the eccentric chemistry teacher who frequently blew up his laboratory, about his brother who moved away to attend college, about how he was convinced the cafeteria staff microwaved all their meals. Suguru found himself smiling more than he meant to, enchanted by this beautiful boy.

Satoru was… .. majestic. Not in some distant, untouchable way, but in the way he carried light with him, spilling it into the spaces he entered. He was warmth and motion and easy laughter. Sitting at Suguru’s back table, he seemed impossibly out of place. And yet… he’d chosen it, chosen him. Why?

People like Satoru didn’t associate with people like him. He was a background character, the place where fellow outcasts congregated. He was literal darkness in his all black attire and jet black hair while Satoru bled light and perfection, clothes perfectly tailored and rich, he looked expensive.

Yet here Satoru was, leaning forward as if every word he said mattered, laughing in a way that made the air between them feel warmer. Part of him wanted to relax into it, to let his light pull him closer. The other part stayed braced, certain he’d eventually drift back to the center of the room where people like him belonged. But for now, Satoru stayed and that simple fact felt strange and impossible, like watching the tide change direction.

🌟*****************************************************************************🌟

Satoru could have sat anywhere. His usual table in the middle of the room was already filled with familiar faces and people waving him over, patting the seat beside them. But his eyes kept drifting to the boy with the long dark hair, slipping quietly toward the empty table in the corner.

Satoru had noticed him before, in the hallways and in between classes, always a little apart from the crowd. He was beautiful in a way that didn’t seem to belong in a high school cafeteria and Satoru was utterly captivated. But it wasn’t just his looks that grabbed his interest although he wouldn’t deny that they helped, like a lot. There was something in the way his eyes slid past people without quite touching them, as if he expected to blend into the background. As though he couldn’t be bothered with the world around him.

When the boy sat down alone at a back table, Satoru followed. Not because he felt sorry for him, absolutely not, but because he suddenly wanted to be a part of his world. Satoru sat with him and rambled, because if he didn’t he would just be staring, like bad. Suguru was so beautiful. His hair fell in a long, dark cascade down his back, black and so glossy that it took all the restraint Satoru had not to reach out and touch it to see if it felt as smooth as it looked. His eyes were crazy, sharp, piercing like they could see right through him and the most beautiful shade of violet that seemed to change and shift the more he looked. He definitely wears mascara, he thought, nobody eyelashes just looked all full and dark without a little help.

Satoru could feel the wall between them as Suguru listened and answered politely but only smiled a few times. Each one was like catching sunlight in his hands. He wanted to see it again. He was going to break that wall down until all Suguru could do was smile.

☀️************************************☀️☀️**********************************☀️

Suguru surprisingly made a couple of fast friends. Choso from 2nd period American Literature was the first, if you didn’t consider Satoru which for now, Suguru didn’t. Satoru was.. ..an enigma.

Choso was quiet and reserved in that mysterious ‘could either be plotting your demise or just really into his book’ kind of way. They’d been unwillingly partnered for a project during the third week of class, and it turned out they had a lot in common. 

One of those things was style, Suguru saw immediately that they could swap clothes because they dressed so similarly. Choso had dark messy hair always up in some reckless style on the top of his head, a few strands hanging down framing his pale skin and highlighting the piercing at his brow. A piercing at 15? Suguru’s parents would never allow it. Choso wore the same four or five band t-shirts with band names Suguru could barely read and pictures that were hardly school appropriate paired with faded jeans and scuffed black combat boots. Suguru liked him immediately. 

They both shared an unhealthy devotion to grungy rock music and a general distaste for pretty much everything else. They both had similar family dynamics, both the oldest sibling with the weight of extra responsibilities and they were both already tired at a soul level. 

They also shared an unfortunate nicotine habit. This last bit was sustained by smuggling cigarettes out of Choso’s dad’s pack, a mission carried out with the stealth and precision of a low-budget spy movie that left them both cackling afterwards.

Sukuna was a natural addition to their pack. He’d been Choso’s friend since elementary school and had the kind of personality that could be described as “more than a little mean” but in a way people didn’t immediately clock. He could hand someone an insult gift-wrapped in a compliment, and they’d only realize hours later, lying in bed, that he’d called them boring. Acting as a sort of bulldog for his more introspective friends, Sukuna had an unspoken policy: nobody messed with Choso or Suguru, except him, obviously.

Suguru met him one afternoon when Choso waved him over at lunch. Sukuna had shockingly bright pink hair spiked up at all angles and two piercings side by side on his left eyebrow…did parents here just not care? And a similar style to both Suguru and Choso but a little more polished. Like his clothes were actually regularly washed or maybe were a bit more expensive.

He gave Suguru a long, considerate look and said, “So this is the new friend. Huh. You look like you lost your way auditioning for a shampoo commercial from the 90’s, very Nirvana.” 

Suguru, halfway through a sip of chocolate milk, almost choked. Choso just smirked into his sandwich. It was only later that Suguru realized it hadn’t been a compliment, was he saying he had bad hair?.. ..but by then Sukuna had already stolen half their lunch and declared they were all hanging out after school.

Between the three of them, they made for an odd but unshakable trio, huddled in the corner at lunch like they were plotting world domination. Which, depending on the day, they might have been.

☀️************************************☀️☀️**********************************☀️

The first month flew by and the school had slowly transformed with the approaching holiday. Suguru had always kind of liked Halloween when the leaves all changed colors, the sky went grey and everything outside turned spooky. After lunch, Suguru usually lingered in the hallway by the lockers with Choso and Sukuna. Choso leaned against the lockers beside him while Sukuna was busy making quiet but devastating observations about passing classmates. Suguru had lost track of whether the last one was a compliment or an insult. Probably both.

Then like sunlight through the darkness, Satoru approached. He didn’t just walk down the hallway, he swept through it like the whole place had been set up for his entrance. Platinum-blonde hair caught the overhead lights until it glowed like spun silver, and the ends of his red scarf fluttered dramatically behind him with every step. His outfit was crisp and perfect, not a wrinkle in sight, and he carried himself with the kind of easy confidence that made everyone else look like they were trying too hard.

Even before he stopped in front of them, Suguru caught the faint trace of his cologne,warm, sharp, with a hint of peppermint that somehow made your head go a little fuzzy. Or maybe it was just him. Then those ridiculous, too-bright blue eyes locked on him.

“You,” Satoru said, pointing like he’d been looking for Suguru all morning. “You’re coming to the Halloween dance.”

It wasn’t a question.

Suguru’s mouth tugged into the smallest smirk, “Is that so?”

Satoru tilted his head, eyes narrowing like he was sizing him up. 

“Yep” then he grinned at him, dazzling, breathtaking. “You’ll thank me later.”

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be, pretty boy?” Sukuna said with a laugh.

Satoru ignored him, stepping just close enough that Suguru had to tilt his chin up a little.

“Friday. Eight o’clock. I’ll find you,” then he turned and walked away without waiting for an answer. 

The hallway didn’t quite return to normal after that, too many heads turning to watch him leave, too many whispers trailing in his wake.

“What… was that?” Choso finally asked, eyes flicking to Suguru.

Suguru shrugged, though his ears felt hotter than they should. “You guys know Satoru?”

Sukuna’s brows shot up. “Dude, everyone knows Satoru…like Satoru Gojo. As in Gojo Enterprises? As in, his family owns half the damn city.”

“Oh,” Suguru said, as if that explained everything. But it didn’t, not the invite, not the peppermint that still lingered in the air, and definitely not the way Satoru had looked at him.

☀️************************************☀️☀️************************************☀️

Friday night arrived and Suguru, against his better judgement, found himself surrounded by orange and purple flickering lights and paper decorations. Suguru, unsure what to do with himself, stood against the wall with a paper cup of some kind of smoking punch that he did not even try a sip of while watching the crowd. 

His eyes immediately found him. Satoru. Impossible to miss really. His platinum hair caught the lights like a disco ball, his laughter was loud and infectious and carried over the music. He dragged classmates one by one onto the dancefloor just to leave them 5 seconds later with a satisfied grin. His eyes would meet Suguru’s across the room, and his face would light up in a grin that was meant just for him. Beautiful. 

After about 20 minutes, Satoru walked right up to him, slid his fingers through Suguru’s like he had done it 1000 times and dragged him onto the dance floor. His hands were warm and soft, his grip confident. His thumb brushed against Suguru’s hand and he swore he could feel it in his toes. 

The music was loud and played some pop songs he’s never heard. The bass was loud and he could feel it through the soles of his boots and thumping in his chest. He let Satoru guide him, awkward at first until he slowly felt all the stiffness in his body melt away. Here, with Satoru, he felt alive. Under all the noise and the lights, Suguru realized his cheeks hurt from smiling. A real smile, not the one he plastered on for strangers. He was having fun. 

Satoru leaned in whispering in his ear, the scent of his cologne, the swirl of colors around them, the brightness of the strobe reflecting in Satoru’s hair. Other students were almost pressed against them and he didn’t mind, because Satoru was there, his hand warm and stabilizing.

They stayed together like that hand and hand until the DJ played the very last song. Then someone Suguru didn’t recognize caught Satoru’s attention, and with a quick goodbye and that easy smile, he slipped away leaving only the memory of his smile and the warmth of his hand. Suguru made his way outside and found Choso and Sukuna leaning against the bike racks.

“Well, well, well…Somebody had a good time tonight,” Sukuna said with a grin. 

“I saw you smiling, twice, maybe three times,” Choso added. 

“It wasn’t that big of a deal,” Suguru replied, rolling his eyes. 

Sukuna arched an eyebrow, all mock disbelief. 

“Right. You just got dragged onto the dance floor by a six-foot human glitter bomb who wouldn’t let go of your hand for… what? Twenty minutes?”

“Thirty,” Choso corrected, not even pretending to hide his amusement.

Suguru felt the heat creep into his ears. “You two are ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” Sukuna said, slinging an arm over his shoulder, “but we’re not the ones making heart eyes at Satoru like he was the last cigarette on earth.”

Choso’s agreement was casual, almost gentle. “You could do worse.”

Yeah, Suguru thought. They walked into the cool night air together. Suguru could not stop replaying the night in his mind, Satoru’s hand in his, the sound of his bright and warm laughter, the way he had made him feel..happy…Maybe this move wouldn’t be so bad after all. 

☀️************************************☀️☀️************************************☀️

The air was crisp and cold, carrying the scent of fried foods and wood smoke. String lights crisscrossed above the festival grounds, illuminating the paths and making the whole place look magical. The sounds of laughter and carnival music drifted through the air as Suguru stood waiting by the entrance, trying not to look like someone who’d been dragged here against their will. 

Satoru had cornered him after school with that infuriating mix of charm and assumption, saying, “You’re coming. No arguments.” Suguru hadn’t argued, partly because he didn’t know how to say no to Satoru, partly because the alternative was studying at home alone and thinking too much.

What Suguru hadn’t mentioned was that Choso and Sukuna would also be coming since they overheard the entire exchange and were also faced with the option of tag along or go home and be bored. 

Satoru, of course, arrived like the walking storm he was, impossible to ignore. He got dropped off in an expensive looking car, all sleek with clean lines and black tinted windows. He walked towards them like he owned the place.. ..which thinking about it.. ..he might. 

As they walked through the festival grounds people seemed to notice him from twenty feet away, calling his name, waving, leaning in to touch his shoulder like they’d known him their whole lives. Suguru learned quickly that Satoru’s smile could be customized: warm for old friends, quick and sharp for acquaintances, slow and deliberate when his attention slid back to Suguru. It was fascinating. 

Their first stop was the games, Sukuna leading them through the crowd while people magically moved out of his way like he was Moses parting the red sea. They tried the ring toss, then the balloon darts, where Sukuna won a lopsided stuffed raccoon. He shoved it at Choso. 

“Here you keep this, it looks like you.” he said with a grin.

Choso grumbled at him but carried it anyway.

Satoru nailed a perfect score on the ball toss without even breaking a sweat. He was like that with everything, effortless, maddeningly so, but too casual for it to feel like showing off. The booth attendant handed over an outrageously oversized penguin, and without missing a beat, Satoru dropped it into Suguru’s arms.

“You can carry this for me right?” He walked away without waiting for an answer. 

By the time they made it to the ferris wheel, the air had gone colder, the breath of everyone around them visible in the glow of the lights. Choso and Sukuna took the first car, leaving Suguru and Satoru to climb into the next one. 

The ferris wheel lifted them high into the sky, the festival shrinking into a glittering patchwork of lights and blurred motion below. The noise softened to a muffled hum, the air sharper and colder up here making him shiver a bit in his thin hoodie. 

Satoru was quiet, more than he had been all night. When they reached the very top, the car swaying faintly in the breeze as it stopped to let more people on the ride, Satoru shifted closer.

“Can I tell you a secret?” His voice was low, conspiratorial, as if they were the only two people left in the world.

Suguru turned to him, brow creased. “What?”

“I’m actually incredibly afraid of heights,” Satoru said, eyes bright even in the dim light, his usual effortless charm softening into something more vulnerable.

Suguru stared. “Then why did you even get on?”

Satoru’s smile was small but real, the kind that didn’t look rehearsed. “Because I feel safe with you.”

The words knocked the air right out of him. Before he could figure out what to do with that, Satoru’s hand slid into his. His palm was warm, almost too warm against the November chill, his grip tight.

“For safety, of course,” Satoru added, tone lighter now, though his thumb brushed once, slowly, across the back of Suguru’s hand before settling still.

Suguru’s pulse kicked up, a steady drum he was sure must be obvious, but he didn’t pull away when the wheel began its slow descent. Satoru’s shoulder was warm pressed against his. He held on tighter when the wind rocked their car again, telling himself it was just to steady them both, not because letting go suddenly felt impossible.

As the festival started to wind down, Satoru led them away from the crowd to a quiet patch of grass on the edge of the festival grounds to watch the firework show. The four of them dropped onto the cool ground, Choso stretching out flat while Sukuna sat cross-legged next to him already narrating the upcoming show like a sports commentator. 

Suguru sat with his legs stretched out in front of him, the ridiculous plush penguin sitting in his lap, and tried to focus on the show in the sky while his eyes kept wandering to the boy sitting next to him. 

Satoru was leaning back on his elbows. His face was tipped upward, mouth curved in a faint smile as the gold and silver light danced across his features. Suguru watched the reflections from the fireworks as they shot into the sky shining in Satoru’s eyes, making them look even more unreal.

When a particularly bright one went off, Satoru turned his head just enough to catch Suguru staring. His smile didn’t widen, but his gaze lingered before he looked back up at the sky as if nothing had happened.

The fireworks kept coming and Suguru wasn’t sure how much of the show he would end up remembering but he knew he would remember the glow of the colors across Satoru’s face and the look in his eyes when he smiled at him.  

☀️************************************☀️☀️**********************************☀️

On Monday, as they walked to class in the morning, Satoru hooked his arm through Suguru’s like it was the most natural thing in the world, like they’d been doing it for years instead of weeks. Satoru’s presence seemed to fill the hall, earning curious glances from other students who always seemed to notice him.

Suguru didn’t say much as they walked but he felt the easy rhythm of their steps falling into sync, the subtle give-and-take of Satoru steering them through the crowded hallway. Two months ago, he would’ve been here alone, head down, invisible. Now, the thought of walking without Satoru beside him felt… strange.

Satoru glanced down, his crooked smile curling with the easy confidence he always carried himself with.

 “Careful, Suguru. If we keep this up, people might think you actually like me.”

Suguru didn’t reply. He just looked at him for a moment, eyes lingering on the sharp lines of his face, and then shook his head although the corner of his mouth betrayed him, tugging upward before he could stop it.

Satoru’s grin sharpened, full of that quiet triumph he never bothered to hide.

“See ya later, Suguru.” 

He unhooked his arm in one easy motion, like it was nothing, and sauntered off toward his own first-period class without a backward glance.

Suguru stayed where he was, rooted in front of the classroom door, the hallway noise folding back in around him. That same warmth in his chest that Satoru always left behind, the ghost of his arm still looped through his. By the time he finally pushed the door open, he already knew he’d be carrying that feeling with him all day.

☀️************************************☀️☀️************************************☀️

Winter arrived right on time blanketing the land with snow that dusted the windowsills, muting the outside world. Suguru always spent his free period in the library studying or reading to pass the time. Without talking about it, Satoru slowly started to join him until it became a fact. If Suguru was there, Satoru would be there too. Suguru would say they were friends, right? They were, they were at least that. 

Suguru was hunched over his notebook reviewing his notes while Satoru sprawled across from him, scribbling something in Suguru's spare notebook. When Satoru slid the notebook over to him, he expected something academic. Instead, he was presented with a chaotic masterpiece: two snowmen holding Santa Claus at gunpoint, each with a scrawled sign ‘Hand over the presents or else’.

A startled laugh escaped before Suguru could stop it. Satoru leaned back, grinning at him across the table. Before Suguru could say anything, Sukuna and Choso arrived, dropping into their usual spots. Sukuna immediately snatched the doodle.

“Wow. A true holiday classic,” he said solemnly. “Poor Sandy Claus. Never saw it coming. The blood on the snow is a nice touch.”

“It’s called artistic vision,” Satoru replied with mock seriousness. “Not everyone can appreciate it.”

“I appreciate not wasting perfectly good paper,” Sukuna shot back.

Before Satoru could fire back, a voice rang out, too bright and too loud for the library.

“There you are!”

A teen walked up to their table in a candy cane patterned scarf and cheeks flushed from the cold. He beamed like the sun at all of them, energy radiating off him like he was light itself. He tossed a casual nod at Suguru and Choso before zeroing in on Satoru.

“You’re still helping me set up for the winter dance, right?”

Sukuna’s smile flattened. “Oh. It’s you.”

The new boy ignored him completely, eyes only on Satoru.

“Yuji! Of course I’ll help.” Satoru replied, clapping his hands together happily.

Sukuna sat fuming at being ignored while Choso turned a page in his book, a quiet twitch at the corner of his mouth betraying his amusement. What in the world, Suguru thought as he watched. 

Satoru stood, fishing a candy cane from his pocket. He pressed it into Suguru’s hand with a small smile.

“For your collection,” he said.

Suguru blinked. “What collection?”

“The one you’re starting right now.” And then he was gone, trailing after Yuji, scarf swinging and pale hair catching the light like frost in motion.

Suguru stood there for a moment longer than he meant to, the hard curve of the candy cane resting in his palm, strangely warm from Satoru’s hand. He told himself it was nothing, just a candy cane, but it still ended up in his pocket.

Sukuna watched them disappear, muttering, “Stupid brothers.”

Suguru looked at him, surprised. “I didn’t even know you had a brother.”

“My twin. Not identical. Thank god. Did you see that dweeb?”

Choso chuckled, closing his book. “I like him. More than you sometimes.”

He moved just in time to dodge Sukuna’s halfhearted swing.

☀️****************************☀️☀️******************************************☀️

The metal bleachers were freezing, the kind of cold that made Suguru seriously question every life decision that had led him here. Below, the football field was a blur of stomping cleats, clouds of breath, and shrill whistle blasts that made him flinch every time.

He tugged his jacket tighter and glanced at Choso, who sat with one knee propped up, his expression somewhere between polite disinterest and mentally timing the countdown until escape.

On Suguru’s other side, Sukuna sat hunched and scowling at nothing in particular. 

“Remind me why we’re here again?”

“Because,” Choso replied without looking up, “you said, and I quote, ‘I’d rather do literally anything than sit at home tonight.’”

“Yeah,” Sukuna muttered, “but I didn’t think this counted as ‘literally anything.’”

The crowd erupted, a wave of cheers rippled down the bleachers, and suddenly Satoru appeared as though summoned, his hair mussed by the wind, cheeks pink from the cold, grin bright enough to melt the ice off the goalposts.

“You made it!” he announced.

Yuji trailed behind him, a school scarf wound around his neck hiding the lower half of his face. Now that he looked, Yuji and Sukuna did look alike, they had a similar but not quite identical face. Yuji’s was softer, kinder and lacked the piercings that adorned Sukuna’s. Where Yuji's eyes were wide and bright, Sukunas were dark and piercing like they could cut right through a person. Yuji’s hair was light brown and almost looked pink in certain light while Sukuna had leaned into the pink dying it a bright fushia. Personality wise they were completely different.

Next to Yuji was a tall, pretty girl with honey-blonde hair spilling out from under a knitted hat with the school logo emblazoned across it. She was introduced as Yuki and she seemed ridiculously shy only glancing up once to look at Choso before her eyes found the ground again. Cute, he thought.  

“We’ve got the best seats!” Yuji declared, gesturing to the jam-packed middle of the bleachers like they were offering VIP passes.

“These are the best seats,” Sukuna countered without moving an inch. “Up here you can’t catch hypothermia from enthusiasm.”

Yuji tilted his head, smile sweetly. “Pretty sure the real danger is frostbite from your personality.”

Yuki said nothing, but she sneaked another glance at Choso. If Choso noticed, he didn’t let it show although his arm shifted just enough to make room if she decided to sit. She didn’t move from Yuji’s side.

Satoru laughed, the sound warm and unbothered, cutting through the winter air. 

“Come on, just for a bit. It’s actually fun once you stop pretending it’s not.” 

Without waiting for an answer, he reached out and tugged Suguru up by the sleeve.

Choso stayed planted with Sukuna, muttering something about “holding the fort” and “keeping the good seats.” Yuki slipped into the spot beside him  while Sukuna kept up a relentless commentary on the absurdity of grown men chasing an inflated ball and crashing into each other.

Down in the thick of the crowd, Suguru found himself wedged between Satoru and Yuji. The brass of the marching band blared just behind them, and the rich smell of hot chocolate curled through the air. Satoru leaned in, his voice brushing against Suguru’s ear. 

“Bet you five bucks you cheer before the game’s over.”

Suguru arched his brow. “You’re on”

He lost immediately when the quarterback threw a perfect spiral 40 yards down the field and the receiver caught it and ran for a touchdown. The crowd erupted in cheers. Suguru heard his own voice shout before his brain caught up, reminding him he was supposed to be bored.

Satoru’s grin was pure triumph. “I’ll take cash or card.”

Suguru just laughed, bumping his shoulder against Satoru’s. 

Back up in the “good seats,” Sukuna shook his head, “Yep. He’s gone. Totally under the glitter bomb’s spell.”

Yuki laughed quietly, almost shy, and Choso glanced sideways at her. The corner of his mouth lifted. 

“You’re just jealous,” he said. 

“I’m concerned,” Sukuna corrected. 

Down below, Suguru was lost in the excitement and commotion of the game, oblivious to his friends' speculation above him.

Chapter Text

High School/ Freshman Year

A week into February, Suguru caught a cold that knocked him out. He’d been stuck at home for days, the soft murmur of cartoons playing for his 6 year old twin sisters in the other room.

Their parents were both at work, his mom on a double shift and his dad stuck at the warehouse until late. As usual, this left the twins as his responsibility even while he was sick. He’d managed to keep them from destroying the living room. Barely.

A knock at the door woke him from his latest nap on the couch. Satoru stood there in a ridiculous sunshine-yellow raincoat, platinum hair damp from the rain, holding a thermos of soup in one hand and a small paper bag in the other.

“You look awful,” Satoru announced cheerfully, brushing past him before he could protest. “Cozy, but awful.”

He didn’t wait for permission, just kicked off his sneakers and wandered toward the kitchen. Suguru trailed after him, a blanket still draped over his shoulders.

Satoru slowed as they passed through the narrow hallway, his gaze flicking over the walls. Photos, mostly in black and white, lined the space: close-ups of flowers heavy with dew, the spiral of a seashell, a lone gull mid-flight. Beneath them, on a small shelf, sat two vintage cameras and a scattering of lens caps.

“Did you take these?” Satoru asked, voice casual but his eyes lingering longer than they needed to.

Suguru gave a small shrug. “Yeah. Just… old stuff.”

Satoru didn’t comment, but when they reached the living room, he stopped again to examine a row of trophies and medals crowded onto the top of the bookshelf. A few had karate figurines perched on top, mid-kick, their little gold limbs frozen in perfect form. All with Suguru’s name embossed across them. 

“Wow,” Satoru murmured, grinning as he tipped his head toward the trophies. “Guess I should be careful not to make you mad.”

Suguru rolled his eyes, tugging the blanket tighter. “You’re already annoying enough to survive it.”

By the time they reached the kitchen, Satoru was grinning. He unpacked the bag and set the contents on the counter, soup, crackers, a bottle of orange juice, a bag of lollipops, and a pack of throat lozenges.

Suguru sank into the couch, head heavy, watching him move around like he’d always belonged there. His sisters peeked from the hallway, whispering and giggling until Satoru spotted them and then they ran back to their room.

When he finally brought over the soup, Satoru dropped into the armchair across from him, leaning forward on his elbows.

“Don’t get used to this. Can’t have you faking sick just to get me to come over.”

Suguru gave him a flat look over the rim of the bowl. “Pretty sure you’d just show up anyway.”

Satoru’s grin widened, his gaze flicking briefly toward the hallway where the cameras were, then back to Suguru. 

“Maybe I would. You have layers Suguru, and I want to see them.”

Suguru didn’t have an answer for that, so he busied himself with the soup. His cheeks were already warm from the fever, but something told him that even if he were perfectly healthy, the effect would’ve been the same.

The soup bowl sat empty now on the coffee table and Suguru fell asleep again on the couch, half-curled under his blanket.

Satoru, left to his own devices, wandered. Suguru’s house was such a contrast to his own, warm, lived in, comforting. He found himself down the short hallway where a door hung slightly ajar. He nudged it open with his knuckle, revealing a room that looked like a collage of all the small things Suguru had never mentioned.

The bed was neatly made, but the desk was crowded—spools of film, a scattering of photo prints, an old point-and-shoot next to a sleek digital camera. A small stack of martial arts certificates leaned against the wall, edges curling slightly with age. On one shelf, rows of records sat between battered paperbacks, the corners of their sleeves worn soft.

Above the desk hung more of Suguru’s photographs. A close-up of water rippling over sand. A foggy pier stretching into nothing. A close up look at all the creatures of a tidepool.

Satoru stood there a moment, hands in his pockets, his usual grin softened into something quieter.

From the living room, Suguru’s voice rasped, half-awake, half-annoyed. 

“You better not be touching my stuff.”

Satoru stepped back into the hall, his grin snapping back into place.

 “Relax. I’m just appreciating the mystery that is Suguru. Don’t worry, your secrets are safe… for now.”

Suguru groaned, dragging the blanket over his head, but Satoru caught the faint curve of a smile before it disappeared.

Suguru was still resting on the couch when the twins came into the living room, whispering loudly to each other. One of them clutched a crumpled piece of pink construction paper covered in heart stickers.

The taller twin marched right up to Satoru and held out the card. “This is for you.”

“It’s a Valentine,” the other twin supplied helpfully, beaming.

Satoru took it without hesitation, holding it like it was a priceless gift. 

“For me? Wow. This is my first Valentine of the year.”

The twins nodded solemnly, and the taller one tried to whisper but it still carried across the room.  

“It’s from Suguru, but he’s too embarrassed to give you one, so we made it for him.”

That woke Suguru up completely “What? no..I..”

But Satoru’s grin was already spreading across his beautiful face. He pressed the card to his chest.

“Suguru, I’m touched. Truly. I’ll cherish this forever.”

The twins dissolved into giggles, delighted with their own matchmaking scheme, while Suguru covered his face with the blanket again.

Suguru stayed hidden under the blanket long after the twins’ giggles faded down the hall, hoping maybe Satoru would just… evaporate out of existence. No such luck.

A moment later, the couch dipped under Satoru’s weight. He’d taken off the raincoat at some point, leaving just a worn hoodie that smelled faintly of something sharp and clean. The crumpled pink card was still clutched in his hand.

“You know,” Satoru said, flipping it open, “I’ve gotten a lot of things from people. notes, gifts, questionable baked goods,.. ..but this?” He tapped the heart stickers with one finger. “This is a masterpiece.”

“It’s not from me,” Suguru muttered from under the blanket.

Satoru’s smile widened, but there was something softer behind it now. “Maybe. But I’m still keeping it.” 

He folded the card carefully and slipped it into his hoodie pocket like it was something worth saving.

🌟**************************************************************************🌟

By the time Suguru returned to school on Wednesday, the school hallways looked like a paper heart factory had exploded. Streamers, glitter, and taped-up cards clung to lockers in various degrees of effort, and everyone seemed to be carrying flowers or candy.

Satoru, naturally, was at the center of it all. Suguru spotted him in the cafeteria surrounded by admirers like he was holding court. Girls, boys, and even a couple upper classmen stood around the table staring at him as though waiting to be picked. Stacked on the table next to him was a mix of neat boxes tied with ribbon, hand-folded envelopes, and one oversized bouquet of carnations so pink it could be seen from space. 

Suguru slowed his pace, watching as a small brown haired girl shyly walked up to him, shoved a box of chocolates in his hand, said something fast that he couldn’t quite catch and then ran away before Satoru could even think of responding. 

When the last of his admirers finally walked away, Satoru caught sight of him and his whole face lit up, a sharp contrast to the guarded but polite expression he had been wearing just a moment ago. He dug into his hoodie pocket and pulled out something small and rumpled. The pink construction-paper Valentine.

“Yours is still my favorite,” he said, holding it up between two fingers, the corner bent from being carried around. 

“That’s… not mine,” Suguru mumbled, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Right… ..of course.” Satoru’s grin faltered for a moment and then was replaced by the plastic one he wore sometimes, too bright, too cheerful. 

Suguru could still see the other gifts out of the corner of his eye, bright, shiny, and intentional. All of these things Satoru could have chosen to carry, but instead he was holding onto the one thing Suguru hadn’t even meant to give him.

Suguru didn’t notice as Satoru’s grin faded and he began collecting all of his gifts. He was too busy wrestling with the uneasy feeling building in his stomach. Everyone wanted Satoru’s attention, and Satoru, for whatever reason, seemed to only want him.

☀️*******************************☀️☀️***********************************☀️

The gymnasium was transformed with tables holding easels, pottery, and different kinds of art all on display organized by artists. Yuki was in her element, directing people where to put signs, ferrying stacks of programs to the entrance. Choso and Sukuna had been roped into helping and were busy setting up a hanging sculpture, though “helping” in Sukuna’s case mostly meant complaining about how heavy it was.

Suguru stood off to the side near his own display, hands stuffed deep in his hoodie pocket. Six of his photographs were mounted on matte black backing, close-ups of dew on moss, the cragged edges of seashells, the fractured shimmer of ice. And two landscapes, one of a wide-open ocean, another of the weathered pier from his hometown. They looked strange to him here, public and exposed. Like someone had put pieces of his insides up on a wall.

He still couldn’t believe how Yuki had gotten him to agree to this. Choso had backed her up with a quiet, steady “You should.” and Sukuna had thrown in his own brand of encouragement: “You’re good, stop being weird about it.”

The door creaked open, and in came Satoru, dressed in a nice bomber jacket that probably cost more than Suguru’s entire wardrobe.

“Hey,” he said, spotting Suguru immediately. “So this is your big debut, huh?”

Suguru shrugged, wishing his pulse wasn’t doing that unhelpful thing.

“It’s not a big deal.”

Satoru wandered over to the display, hands in his pockets, leaning in to study the first photo. “You’re kidding, right? These are…” He trailed off, eyes narrowing in concentration before continuing “really good Suguru, seriously.”

Satoru moved along the display until he stopped in front of the pier photograph. The wood slats stretched into the foggy horizon, sea spray clinging to the air. He tilted his head. “This is where you grew up, isn’t it?”

Suguru hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah.”

Satoru’s grin softened into something quieter. “I want to see it someday.”

The words landed heavier than they should have, like an anchor dropped into still water. Suguru wasn’t sure if Satoru meant it, or if it was just one of those things people said, but the idea of Satoru on his pier sent an odd twist through his chest.

“It’s not much,” Suguru said, trying to keep his tone even.

“Bet it’s more than you think.” Satoru glanced at the pier again, then back at him, and there was something in his expression that made Suguru look away first.

Satoru didn’t push, just kept moving along the rest of the displays, but the thought stayed with Suguru for the rest of the evening. This strange, impossible image of Satoru at the edge of the world he used to call home.

☀️**********************************☀️☀️*****************************☀️

The final bell of the year rang, and the school spilled onto the lawn in a rush of voices, laughter, and the flutter of crumpled notes and test papers being tossed into the air. 

They’d claimed a spot under the broadest oak like they always did—Choso leaning against the trunk with his arms crossed, phone in one hand, gaze skimming over the crowd like he was both part of it and apart from it. Sukuna had claimed the ground itself, sprawled on his back with his hands laced behind his head, soaking in the lazy heat. 

Satoru sat a little apart on the edge of the field, long legs stretched out in front of him, posture casual but with the kind of presence that drew glances without trying. Suguru was beside him, knees drawn loosely to his chest, eyes half on the grass, half on the slow drift of clouds overhead.

Off to the side, Yuji was showing Yuki memes on his phone, their soft laughter spilling into the summer air.

“You’re different now,” Satoru said suddenly, tilting his head toward Suguru. His sapphire eyes caught the light, holding it the way water holds the sky—bright but impossible to pin down.

Suguru frowned slightly, wary of where this was going. 

“Different how?”

“You laugh more,” Satoru replied, and his voice was casual but his mouth curved with a small.

Choso snorted without glancing up from his phone. 

“That’s true. You used to look like you were in a Victorian tragedy half the time.”

Sukuna tipped his head toward them without opening his eyes. 

“I still think he does. Just… a happier one now. Like if the doomed poet found a dog or something.”

Suguru rolled his eyes, plucking a blade of grass and flicking it at Satoru. It missed spectacularly and hit Yuji instead. Yuji gasped like he’d been personally wronged and retaliated with a handful of grass, which Suguru barely ducked. Sukuna sat up with a grin and immediately joined in, launching a sneak attack on Choso, who only sighed and brushed grass off his jacket with exaggerated patience.

It became a full-blown grass war in seconds, Sukuna cackling like a man unhinged, Yuji and Yuki giggling behind their makeshift barricade of backpacks, Choso long-suffering but secretly hiding a smirk, and Satoru launching handfuls like he was trying to win a championship.

Long after the grass had stopped flying, the air had settled into golden evening light, and the others were bickering over where to get ice cream Suguru realized something about that moment would stay. The sunlight tangled in Satoru’s hair. The curve of his mouth. The way his laughter didn’t just reach him, but curled in his chest like it belonged there.

☀️*********************************☀️☀️********************************☀️

The lake shimmered under the heavy summer sun, the air thick with heat and the hum of cicadas. The group had staked out a patch of grass near the shore, towels and bags strewn in a messy sprawl.

Satoru was already waist-deep in the water, trying to coax Yuki into joining him. Choso sat under the shade of a crooked willow, a paperback balanced in his hands while pretending not to notice her sneaking glances his way. Sukuna had claimed the cooler, guarding it like a dragon over treasure, tossing a soda to anyone who impressed him with a stupid trick.

To Sukuna’s displeasure, Yuji was there too, bright, easy-going, and perpetually barefoot. He had brought along a tall, sharp-featured boy named Megumi, who seemed allergic to smiling unless Yuji was talking to him. Around everyone else, Megumi’s answers were clipped, eyes distant, but when Yuji leaned in to show him how to skip stones, his whole expression changed, softened, like the sun had found a way through.

Suguru sat at the edge of the group, letting the water lap over his toes. Satoru swam up and plopped a dripping handful of lake water into his lap.

“Seriously?” Suguru muttered, swatting at him.

“Cooling you off,” Satoru grinned, shaking his hair like a dog so droplets spattered Suguru’s cheek.

Megumi watched the chaos from where he sat with Yuji, his mouth twitching into a reluctant smile when Yuji’s laugh broke across the water.

Later, as the sun slid lower and the sky shifted to gold, they all sprawled out on towels, skin warm and hair smelling faintly of lake water. It was easy here, no hallways, no classes, just the sound of lapping waves, someone’s half-finished story drifting into the hum of the evening. Suguru realized he couldn’t remember the last time the air had felt this light.

As the others packed up, Suguru lingered by the shoreline, skimming flat stones into the water. The ripples stretched out in the fading light, gold fading into soft violet.

Satoru wandered over, barefoot, his hair still damp and curling at the edges. He didn’t say anything at first, just stepped up beside him and tossed a stone so it skipped three perfect times before sinking.

“Show-off,” Suguru muttered, though there was no bite to it.

Satoru grinned, leaning closer until their shoulders brushed. “You’ve got the form, you just overthink it.”

“Maybe I like overthinking,” Suguru said, flicking another stone that promptly plopped into the water with a single, sad splash.

Satoru laughed quietly, the sound low and warm, and for a moment they just stood there, watching the last blush of sunlight on the lake.

“You know,” Satoru said finally, “if this is how summer starts, I’m okay with it.”

Suguru glanced at him, the words forming and dissolving before they could leave his mouth. Instead, he nodded once, slow, and tried to pretend the quick thud in his chest was just from the heat.

Behind them, Sukuna’s voice cut through the quiet. “If you two are done making goo-goo eyes, we’ve got a cooler to haul!”

Satoru groaned, dragging a hand down his face, but Suguru caught the faintest smile before he turned away.

☀️********************************☀️☀️*******************************☀️

The park was already buzzing by the time Suguru arrived, the sky streaked in orange and purple as the sun sank low. He had the twins in tow, each clutching a sparkler still in its cardboard sleeve, chattering about fireworks and funnel cakes.

“You didn’t say you were bringing the gremlins,” Satoru said when they reached the picnic blanket the group had claimed. His grin, though, made it clear he didn’t mind.

“They’re my sisters,” Suguru corrected flatly, setting down the bag of snacks. “And they’re fine as long as”

“Hey, you two want to see who can make the longest clover chain?” Sukuna’s voice cut in, crouching down to their level. The twins’ eyes lit up, and in seconds they were dragging him toward the far end of the field.

Suguru just watched as Sukuna, Sukuna? dragged his sisters away.

Satoru leaned down just enough for his voice to brush against his ear. “You underestimate your friends,” he murmured, his breath warm. “And your sisters are cute. Runs in the family.”

Suguru shot him a look, but his ears were burning, and Satoru’s smirk said he noticed.

As darkness fell and the first fireworks cracked in the distance, the group sprawled across a huge blanket. Yuki sat closer to Choso than usual, fiddling with the hem of her shirt. The fireworks lit up the planes of his face in quick flashes of gold and red.

“I like your shirt,” she said suddenly, the words rushing out before she could swallow them.

Choso glanced at her, then at the faded band tee he was wearing. “This old thing?”

“It’s… cool,” she said, cheeks pink but her gaze steady.

For a heartbeat, he just studied her. Then a small, rare smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Thanks.”

Nearby, Megumi and Yuji were folded into their own world, laughing over some private joke. The twins paraded their clover crowns like royalty, weaving between picnic blankets as if the grass itself belonged to them.

Satoru sat just beside Suguru, leaning back on his hands, eyes not on the fireworks but on him. When a particularly loud burst cracked open the sky, Satoru leaned a little closer, his voice slipping in under the thunder of it. “I’m glad you could come.”

Suguru hesitated, the words settling somewhere deep, somewhere he wasn’t ready to name. “Yeah… it’s nice to be here.” With you

Another cascade of light exploded above them, but Suguru found it strangely hard to look up. His gaze lingered on the curve of Satoru’s smile, on the faint shadows beneath his eyes, on the way the night seemed to soften around him.

The fireworks went on. Suguru barely noticed. The night was thick with the lingering smell of gunpowder and grilled food, the last bursts of fireworks fading into the distance. The twins were half-asleep, their sparkler crowns drooping, one clinging to each of Suguru’s hands as they made their way towards home.

“You look like a very grumpy shepherd,” Satoru said as he fell into step beside him, hands in his pockets.

Suguru gave him a sideways glance. “And you look like someone who didn’t have to carry two extra humans across a park.”

“Want me to take one?” Satoru asked, already reaching for the nearest twin. She blinked up at him sleepily, then climbed into his arms without a word, settling her head on his shoulder like they’d known each other forever.

“That’s… suspicious,” Suguru muttered.

Satoru grinned. “She did give me a Valentine after all, she obviously has good taste.”

They walked the quiet streets together, the warm night humming with distant laughter and the occasional pop of a leftover firework. Every so often, Satoru would shift the sleeping twin in his arms and brush against Suguru, not enough to be clumsy, just enough to be noticed.

When they reached Suguru’s house, Satoru handed off his twin then stopped him before he could go inside.. “Hey,” he said, voice low. “Thanks for tonight.”

Suguru frowned. “I didn’t do anything”

“You did,” Satoru interrupted, his smile a little crooked. “Trust me.”

And then he was gone, walking backward down the sidewalk with a lazy salute before disappearing into the summer dark.

☀️*****************************☀️☀️*****************************☀️

Later that night, after the twins were tucked in and the house was finally still, Suguru sat on the edge of his bed with the window cracked open. He should have been tired, he was tired, but his mind kept going back to Satoru. Satoru had a way of making him feel like they were the only two people in the world. 

Suguru thought about how easy it was to laugh around him now, how Satoru’s voice always seemed to pull him out of whatever dark corner his mind had crawled into. He thought about the warmth of walking side by side, the way it made his chest feel tight like something was trying to get out. 

He rolled over, pressing his face into the pillow.

It wasn’t that he’d never thought about liking someone before. He’d just always assumed it would be a girl, like it was supposed to be. But this… this felt real, and confusing, and maybe a little dangerous in the way new things always were. He wondered what it would mean, what would change between them, if he just let himself feel it. 

☀️***************************☀️☀️****************************☀️

It was the last Sunday of summer break, the kind of afternoon where the air was too hot and too heavy. Heat clung to the pavement, rippling up from the long driveway that led to Satoru’s house. House felt too modest a word. The place rose like something from a magazine spread. three stories of pale stone and glass, framed by hedges so perfect they could’ve been measured with a ruler.

Suguru had grown up with creaky porch steps, mismatched lawn chairs, and a yard that smelled of cut grass and charcoal after his dad grilled on Saturdays. This… this was different. It felt like stepping into another world.

“You sure they’re okay with us being here?” Yuki asked under her breath, craning her neck to take in the rows of towering windows.

Satoru’s laugh was light, almost airy. “Oh, absolutely. They’ll be thrilled to find out I still exist.” The words came with a careless shrug, but there was a lingering sadness there, like if he said it enough times, it would have to be true. 

Inside, the air was cool and everything was spotless, no shoes by the door, no mugs on the counters, no sign anyone had even walked through the place in weeks. Satoru led them to his room, a bright, slightly messy suite on the second floor. Here.. .. there was life. Posters covered the walls, Polaroids cluttered the mirror, ticket stubs were tucked into the frame of his desk lamp.

Satoru sprawled on his bed, while Yuji and Megumi both took spots on the floor. Yuki sat perched on the edge of Choso’s chair, as though there just wasn’t anywhere better to sit. Sukuna sat on the window seat with the twins at his feet since Suguru had to bring them and they, for some reason, really liked Sukuna. Suguru found himself sitting next to Satoru on his bed. 

“Parents out?” Yuji asked after scanning the room like he half-expected them to appear.

“Parents are always out,” Satoru said simply. “It was mostly me and my brother, but… he’s off at college now.” His voice dipped softer for a beat before he brightened again, flashing that grin that always seemed just a bit fake. “That just means we can do what we want.”

The others laughed, but Suguru’s chest tightened. He could picture his own kitchen right now, his mom in mismatched socks, the smell of onions sizzling in the pan, his dad clattering dishes and humming off-key, his little cousins bickering over the last soda. Suguru knew what it was to wish for quiet in a crowded house. Satoru had the opposite problem.

They played cards and listened to music to pass the time, just happy to be out of the unforgivingly hot sun. The whole day took an unexpected turn when the twins declared that they had to use the bathroom immediately, yet refused to use the one in Satoru’s room stating it was a boy bathroom and that it was gross. 

Ridiculous, but Satoru just shrugged. There were three other bathrooms right down the hall. The emergency occurred when the twins did not return and Operations Twins Search began. They found them in the backyard poking around.

“What’s this door?” one of them called, tugging on a set of glass sliders at the far end of the patio.

Satoru glanced over from where he was sipping soda. “Oh, that’s the pool house.”

“The what?” Yuki’s head whipped around.

Satoru stood, stretching his long arms over his head like this was nothing special. 

“Pool house. You know, a house. By the pool. Don’t act like it’s weird.”

The moment he slid the door open, though, everyone acted like it was weird, because inside was basically a private water park. A turquoise pool shimmered under skylights, a sleek spiral slide twisting down into it from the loft above. On the far side, rock formations hid a shadowy little grotto where the water disappeared into a softly lit cave. The air was warm and smelled faintly of chlorine and sunscreen, even though it had probably been months since anyone had used it.

“Okay, that’s it. We’re doing this,” Sukuna announced, already kicking off his shoes.

“Didn’t bring swimsuits,” Yuki pointed out, but her eyes didn’t leave the slide.

“Doesn’t matter,” Choso said, deadpan. “Clothes dry.”

The next twenty minutes were chaos, raiding Satoru’s closet for oversized T-shirts and shorts, the twins squealing as they tested the water temperature, Yuji declaring he would be first down the slide. Yuki swore she wasn’t going in, but by the time Sukuna cannonballed off the side, she was already headed to the changing room.

Suguru hung back at the edge for a minute, taking in the scene, the laughter echoing under the skylights, water droplets flashing in the late sun. And Satoru, standing waist-deep in the pool with his hair slicked back, grinning like a kid at summer camp instead of the boy from the too-quiet house.

“You’re just gonna stand there?” Satoru called up to him, splashing water in his direction.

Suguru hesitated. “I don’t know. I wasn’t really planning on”

“Planning is boring,” Satoru interrupted, wading closer. “Come on, you’re already wearing shorts, just take your shirt off.” 

His voice was light, but his eyes had that pull again, like he was daring Suguru to step over some invisible line.

Suguru sighed and then did as requested, removing his shirt and climbing the steps to the slide. The others started cheering, ridiculous and over the top, and by the time he pushed off, he was already laughing. He hit the water with a cold rush, surfacing to find Satoru right there beside him, smiling like this was exactly how the day was supposed to go.

A little while later, Suguru ducked into the grotto, curious about the shadowy space. The sound of the group outside dulled to a muted, watery hum, the light dimming to a soft blue glow filtering through the rippling surface. Satoru followed, treading water lazily.

“I love it in here” he said quietly, voice carrying differently in the enclosed space. “Best part of the pool. Nobody ever comes in here but me.”

Suguru trailed his fingers along the slick stone wall. “Feels… different in here.”

Satoru tilted his head, watching him swimming close enough that Suguru could see the water gathered on his eyelashes.

 “It’s quiet. No one expects anything from you. You can just… be.”

The words settled between them, heavier than the damp air. Suguru wasn’t sure if Satoru meant the grotto, himself or both of them. He was about to ask, but then a chorus of voices echoed from the main pool, someone yelling for them to hurry up, laughter bouncing off the water.

Satoru smirked, breaking the moment and flicked a bit of water at him. “Guess we’re being summoned.”

They swam back into the light together, and the rest of the evening blurred, racing down the slide, collapsing onto lounge chairs wrapped in towels while the air cooled around them. But later, as the sky outside shifted from gold to deep blue, Suguru caught Satoru watching him again, not in the casual way he looked at everyone, but like he was holding a secret between just the two of them.

And Suguru, dripping wet with his hair plastered to his forehead, suddenly wanted to know every thought in his head.

Chapter Text

High School/Junior & Senior Year

By the time junior year of high school rolled around, Suguru’s friend group had become something unbreakable. Warm, comfortable and strengthened by years of shared snacks, inside jokes, and playful arguments. They were more than just friends, they were like an extended family.

Yuki and Choso had shifted from friends to something more over the summer when Yuki, in a moment of pure bravery, had asked him outright if he wanted to date or if she should find someone else. Choso folded immediately and they’ve been together ever since. 

Yuji and Megumi had ended up as permanent fixtures despite Sukuna’s best efforts to keep his twin away. It was easy to forget they were even brothers. Yuji was simply too bright, too easy to like, the kind of person who could charm his way into any circle without meaning to and Sukuna was like his dark counterpart. It was as though their parents had decided, since they had Yuji, Sukuna could just do what he wanted and Sukuna ran with that.

Megumi was Yuji’s shadow and self-appointed bodyguard. He didn’t smile often, except for Yuji. They swore they were just best friends but Suguru saw the way Megumi looked at Yuji, like the sun shone just for him.

Sukuna had grown comfortably into his dual role as the group’s class clown and guard dog. His wit had gotten sharper over the years, his teasing almost mean but always done in love. He was the first to mock them for tripping over their own feet, and the first to make someone regret it if they laughed too hard about it.

Suguru and Satoru… were.. ..the same. Which was to say, they were still circling each other in that maddening way with soft glances one moment, ridiculous, nothing-arguments the next, both ending in laughter they swore wasn’t flirting. It was. Everyone knew it was. Everyone except them.

Satoru had given up any pretense of personal space sometime last semester and had decided Suguru’s personal space was his too. An arm across his shoulder as they walked down the hall, sitting too close at lunch, laying his head on his legs when they sat in the grass, hands always grabbing at his sleeves, at his sweatshirt, a warm hand on his arm to get his attention. Suguru met all of it with infuriating restraint, quiet and steady, deflecting with subtle pushes away from him when it got to be too much and dry remarks that only encouraged Satoru.

They both rejected any romantic pursuers and they both had many interested parties. They were both good looking and magnetic in their own ways, like the sun and the moon. Satoru had a new person asking for his number every week, sometimes he gave it just to be nice, his flirty personality shining through like he couldn’t even help it and sometimes he refused stating he just wasn’t interested right now and was focused on his studies. Suguru refused anyone that dared to approach him and not many did, his usual trio was a little intimidating, a delinquent pack that strutted through the halls like they owned the place. 

It was exhausting to watch and all of their friends seemed to be waiting for the day that one of them would break. And yet neither of them moved closer to each other. Too afraid to change what had become a comfortable rhythm, a beautiful friendship.

☀️************************************☀️☀️********************************☀️

The group was huddled together occupying two tables in the library during free period. At the far table, Yuki and Choso were leaning shoulder to shoulder, murmuring over a single notebook. Sukuna sat with Yuji, arguing quietly about something that had happened at home the night before, while Megumi watched with the faint scowl of someone prepared to step in if needed.

Satoru was unusually quiet. His platinum-blond hair, always slightly messy, hung into his almost impossibly blue eyes while he slouched over his textbook chewing on the end of his pen deep in thought. He wasn’t studying, not really, just sitting and thinking. 

Suguru noticed him, like he always did, but didn’t ask. 

When the bell rang, the group started packing up their things unbothered and in no rush. Satoru’s fingers caught Suguru's sleeve before he could walk away from the table.

“Walk with me?”

It was casual but something was different in the way he asked. A vulnerability that was unusual against Satoru’s typical confidence. Suguru nodded.

Satoru led him away from class and up a narrow stairwell to an unused balcony with a rusted railing and a view of the empty courtyard. Suguru didn’t even know it was there, or if they were supposed to be there, or if it was even safe.

Satoru leaned against the railing, the pale strands of his hair catching the afternoon sun as it peaked through the clouds. Against the gray sky, his skin looked even fairer, his lashes throwing faint shadows on his cheeks. When he spoke, his voice was low.

“Do you ever get tired of pretending?”

Suguru tilted his head. “Pretending what?”

“That we’re just… friends….because I am.”

There was no smirk on his face, no teasing lilt to his voice. Just the truth, laid bare and vulnerable. Suguru’s chest went tight. His violet eyes searched Satoru’s face, looking for the joke, the out. There wasn’t one.

“I’m not asking you to say something you’re not ready to,” Satoru said, gaze steady, almost defiant in its honesty. “But I’ve been waiting….years now. And I don’t want to keep acting like I don’t…” He broke off, exhaling hard, “Like I don’t feel the way I do…about you.”

Suguru didn’t move. Couldn’t. His heart was hammering in his chest. He thought about first year. The ferris wheels, fireworks and summer days spent on the lake He thought about how he’d memorized the sound of Satoru’s laugh without meaning to. He thought about how the boy who was loved by everyone had, somehow, made Suguru feel like he was the only one that mattered.

“I’m scared.. ..I don’t want this to change things” Suguru said at last, his voice barely more than a breath.

Satoru’s shoulders eased just slightly. “Yeah, I’m scared too. I’ve never felt like this before..I just...”

Satoru stepped closer, until their sleeves brushed and Suguru could catch the faint, clean scent of his cologne.

“If you want me to stop, just tell me,” Satoru said as he closed the distance between them, pressing his lips to Suguru’s.

Everything in the world faded into the background. There was only this moment. Satoru kissing him on this rickety balcony. Suguru didn’t tell him to stop and for the first time, neither of them pulled away. 

Time seemed to slow down on that balcony and by the time they rejoined the group, the last bell of the day had rung and the hallway was thinning out. Satoru stayed close as they walked and Suguru wasn’t quite sure what to do with his hands. Reach out and grab his hand? He could do that now, right? He stuck his hands in his hoodie pocket instead. 

They found the others loitering by the bike racks waiting for them. Yuki was perched on the low brick wall, Choso leaning against it beside her, Sukuna and Yuji were arguing over whose turn it was to do the dishes. Megumi was there too, earphones in ignoring everyone, gaze flicking up as they approached.

Yuki’s eyes narrowed immediately,. “Finally,” she muttered under her breath, just loud enough for Choso to hear.

Choso smirked. “Told you it’d happen before graduation.”

Sukuna’s gaze darted between them, his mouth curling into a slow, wicked grin.

“Ohhh. Oh, this is new.”

Suguru blinked. “What’s new?”

“Don’t play dumb, we’ve been suffering through your pining for two years,” Sukuna said. “Seriously, you two are exhausting.”

Megumi finally pulled out one earbud. “We’re just glad you did something about it, finally.”

Suguru felt his face heat, but Satoru only laughed, bright and unbothered and slung an arm around his shoulders.. 

“Oh come on! It was not that obvious.”

“It was. It was miserable,” Yuki stated, but she was smiling.

Choso pushed off the wall and adjusted his backpack. 

“Alright, let’s go before this gets any more awkward.”

As they started walking, Suguru caught Satoru’s glance from the corner of his eye, quick, almost shy despite everything. And even with the teasing, the noise, the lingering embarrassment, there was something steady in it. Like maybe the hardest part was already behind them. Suguru reached out for the warmth of Satoru’s palm and they walked home.

🌟**************************************************************************🌟

The rain had been steady all day, drumming against the windows. It was the kind of weather that made their usual weekend rhythm feel even cozier. Suguru usually showed up sometime after breakfast with the twins in tow. This was their normal now. Saturdays that started with the twins running wild through the mansion, their laughter echoing in places that were usually silent. Suguru would wrangle them long enough to feed them, then set them loose in the game room.

Satoru was stretched out with his back against the armrest, Suguru between his legs, warm and solid, the sound of muffled laughter from the twins drifting from down the hall. Satoru always found himself hoping they’d get absorbed in something for hours, so he could keep this, Suguru warm against him, the blanket pulled high, the steady sound of his breathing.

It was easy to forget, like this, that his house had ever felt cold. Easy to forget the emptiness that used to settle over him once the noise faded. Suguru filled it without even trying. And not in the way other people had, laughing too loud because of who Satoru was, or asking too many questions about things that weren’t theirs to know. Suguru never looked at him like a headline or a rumor. He just… looked at him.

Satoru’s fingers slid through the ends of Suguru’s hair again, and he let the silky strands fall away before catching them once more. He’d never told Suguru how much he liked touching his hair, how grounding it felt, like proof that Suguru was really here and not just some dream he’d wake from.

“Your hair’s so long,” he murmured, not for the first time.

Suguru huffed a quiet laugh, tilting his head back to look at him, violet eyes catching the light. “You say that every time you touch it.”

“That’s because it’s true,” Satoru said, leaning down just enough for his lips to brush the shell of Suguru’s ear. His voice softened. “You’re kind of ridiculously beautiful, you know that?”

Satoru pulled him in for a kiss, basking in the warmth of the body pressed against his. The kiss started soft and soon he was lost in it. They had been tiptoeing around it, not mentioning it, and right now, with Suguru’s body pressing against him, Satoru felt like he was going to lose it. Suguru kissed him like an expert, like he had always known how to make Satoru melt under him. Satoru wanted more. He wanted to touch him everywhere. He wanted Suguru to touch him. 

His hands wandered under Suguru’s shirt over the planes of his back as Suguru kissed him until his lips were raw. 

“Suguru, touch me…please” he whispered into their kiss.

Suguru broke the kiss completely, “Satoru we can’t, we’re not alone..and I..”

“You don’t want to?” Satoru said in a small voice.

“Of course I want to, you can feel how much I want to,” he said, pressing his groin down on him, and Satoru could feel it. It just made him want even more. 

“Please, we can go to my room. Lock the door.” Satoru pleaded. 

Suguru kissed him again, softly and then got up. Satoru whined in disapproval.

“We can’t Satoru, not right now….besides…we ..should talk about it first.” Suguru said.

Satoru pouted for a minute, “Okay, at least come back and lay with me.”

“Literally cannot do that right now,” Suguru said with a laugh glancing down at himself. “Keep your distance, demon.”

Satoru laughed and hid his face in the couch. After they had both calmed down, they went on a hunt to find the twins and join whatever they were doing. Space was good.. ..until they were ready. 

☀️************************************☀️☀️**********************************☀️

The rooftop had become their place sometime in the blur between Junior and senior year. Most days, it started with Satoru catching Suguru’s eye across the cafeteria and tilting his head toward the stairwell, no words needed. Sometimes Yuki or Choso would wave them over, or Yuji would shout something about “ditching us again,” but they never pushed. Everyone knew by now: if Satoru and Suguru disappeared at lunch, they’d be on the roof.

The far side of it had the best view, overlooking the baseball field and the long stretch of sky beyond the school grounds. It was always a little windy up there, just enough to tug at their hair, Satoru’s platinum strands falling into his bright blue eyes, Suguru’s hair shifting against his shoulder.

Today, the others were sitting closer to the stairwell entrance, debating where to order food for the weekend trip, their voices carrying over in bursts. Satoru and Suguru stood apart, leaning against the rust-warm railing, the metal hot under their forearms.

“You know,” Satoru said, letting his hand brush against Suguru’s until their fingers found each other like they always did, without thought, “I think this is my favorite part of the day.”

Suguru tilted his head, pretending to think. “Lunch?”

Satoru’s grin spread slow and deliberate, that bold, sun-bright grin that had wrecked him from the start. 

“No. You.”

The wind lifted between them, carrying the smell of cut grass from the field below. Suguru felt heat creep into his ears, but he didn’t look away. 

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah,” Satoru said, his voice low but threaded with that playful certainty he always carried, “but I’m your ridiculous.”

Suguru didn’t answer right away. He just shifted their joined hands so his thumb brushed over Satoru’s knuckles, the easy rhythm of familiarity settling between them. The sound of their friends’ laughter was distant here, like another world. Up on the roof, it was just them, the endless sky, and the quiet truth of being exactly where they wanted to be.

☀️************************************☀️☀️**********************************☀️

Exams were over, the first taste of summer freedom hanging in the air. The group had gathered in Satoru’s backyard, sprawled across the grass while Sukuna roasted everyone with merciless accuracy. Laughter rose and fell around them like waves, but Suguru felt it more than he listened.

He was lying on his back, one arm pillowed beneath his head, the scent of freshly cut grass thick in the warm air. Satoru had claimed the space beside him, close enough that their shoulders brushed.

At some point, Satoru’s fingers found him, their hands settling into an easy fit. Suguru’s thumb began tracing lazy patterns across Satoru’s skin unconsciously.

Suguru glanced over, and caught Satoru watching him, blue eyes bright and unguarded in the late afternoon sun.

And in that moment, Suguru saw it again, the thing he could never explain to anyone else. The difference between how everyone else saw Satoru and how he did.

The rest of the world saw the platinum hair, the expensive clothes that somehow always looked effortless, the easy confidence that could turn a crowded room toward him without a word. They saw the Satoru who played the part perfectly, because it was expected.

Suguru saw the boy who laughed with his whole chest, who got too invested in the outcome of board games, who stayed up with him until three in the morning when he couldn’t sleep. He saw the way Satoru’s voice softened when he asked if Suguru had eaten, the way his expression changed when it was just the two of them.

Suguru thought about how Satoru could be infuriatingly stubborn, overly dramatic, occasionally reckless and how he loved him more for all of it.

Satoru’s hand squeezed his, just enough to pull him back from his thoughts. That small pressure said I’m here in a way words never could. Suguru didn’t look away this time. He let himself hold that gaze, the late sun painting Satoru’s skin gold and catching in the pale fringe of his lashes.

Yeah, Suguru thought, maybe forever wouldn’t be long enough.

☀️************************************☀️☀️**********************************☀️

Winter was moving steadily, the day cold and grey. Suguru laid on Satoru’s bed reading as Satoru played on his switch. It was mostly quiet punctuated by exclamations every now and then when something good or bad happened in the game. Satoru groaned and set the device aside. 

“I’m bored,” he said, nuzzling into Suguru jostling his book and taking its place.

Suguru sighed and gave up reading, setting his book aside, “weathers bad, what else is there to do?”

“Lets go swimming,” Satoru suggested, looking up at him with hope shining in his glorious eyes. 

“It's February, and raining,” Suguru said.

“Not in the pool house,” Satoru argued, pouting up at him. “The pool is heated.”

Suguru sighed again, he could never say no to Satoru and he knew it, weaponized it against him with his dazzling baby blues. 

“Fine, let's go then,” Suguru admitted defeat. 

“Yay!” Satoru said, pout immediately gone from his face, grinning at him and pulling him out the door. 

The pool house was different in the rain, the atmosphere darker but Suguru liked it. The sound of the rain hitting the glass walls was the only sounds they could hear besides the gentle splash of the water as it moved from the grotto to the pool. 

Satoru wasted no time stripping down to his underwear and jumping in the water. Suguru watched him for a minute. He loved to see him happy. Satoru swam up to the ledge, a huge grin lighting up his face.

“Come in, it feels great.”

Suguru tied his hair up so it wouldn’t get wet and undressed to join Satoru in the pool. The second he was in the water, Satoru wrapped his limbs around him like an octopus weightless in the water. 

“This is my favorite thing,” Satoru said resting his forehead against Suguru’s. So close that he could see water droplets on his eyelashes. 

“You’re my favorite thing,” Suguru replied and kissed him. It was sweet, it was wet, it was hard to stop. 

Satoru was wrapped around him so close Suguru could feel his arousal grow as they kissed. It was hot, it was incredible, it was scary. 

“Satoru…” he said in between sloppy kisses. 

“Shhh…nobody is around. It's just us…I need it. I need you. We don’t have to…you know….just..touch me.” Satoru said. 

“We can’t do that right here in the middle of the pool. It's too..” he couldn’t finish because Satoru was kissing him again. 

“The grotto then,” Satoru said and then he unhooked himself from around Suguru and started leading him towards the grotto. God he was gorgeous, the water dripping down his back and he moved through the water. 

The grotto was darker, lit by LED lights along the roof. 

“Better?” Satoru asked, and Suguru had to admit that it was. 

“Touch me,” Satoru whispered as he got closer to him. “Please, I think about it all the time.”

Suguru did too. All the time. He was a hormonal 18 year old boy and his boyfriend was the most gorgeous thing he’d ever seen. He’d daydreamed about it. Satoru in bed, Satoru on his knees, Satoru bent over the desk in his room. His thoughts were lewd and fueled by too many hours watching porn as he tried to keep his desires for his then best friend in check. But they were dating now, they could do more than kiss. He wanted to… ..and he was scared to. 

“I’m nervous,” Suguru said, barely a whisper.

“Me too,” Satoru said. Then he kissed him again. Hungrier than before, his hands trailed down Suguru’s stomach brushing against the top of his briefs. “Can I?” he breathed into the kiss. Suguru couldn’t speak, he just nodded and kissed him again. 

Having someone else’s hand on him felt… ..different. Not bad, definitely not bad. Satoru kept kissing him as he wrapped his hand around him and his mind left his body. Everything was sensation, Satoru’s lips on his, the warmth of his hand, the water pooling between them as Satoru rubbed against his thigh. It was everything and overwhelming.  

“Oh my god..” Suguru breathed eyes rolling back in his head. 

Satoru whined into the kiss and he grinded against him chasing his own release. It was different, it was a lot, it was incredibly hot, and it was enough. For now. 

Satoru chuckled into their kiss when it was over. 

“You’re insane,” Suguru breathed, still overcome “and so hot.”

“This was such a good idea,” Satoru said with a laugh, moving away from him and out of the grotto. 

Suguru laughed and swam after him feeling lighter than he had in days, maybe lighter than he’d ever felt in his life. 

☀️************************************☀️☀️**********************************☀️

By spring of senior year, the rooftop felt different. Not bad but threaded through with the quiet knowledge that these days were numbered. The sun was higher now, heat shimmering off the asphalt below, but up here the wind still carried the edge of something cooler, sharper.

Satoru and Suguru had slipped away like always, their friends barely glancing up from their table inside the cafeteria. The others were already talking about universities, summer jobs, and moving away. Satoru hadn’t brought it up. Suguru hadn’t asked.

They stood at their usual spot by the railing, their shadows stretching long behind them. Satoru’s platinum hair had grown out just a little, catching the light so brightly it almost hurt to look at. Suguru’s hair brushed against his back, errant strands whipped forward by the breeze.

Satoru leaned forward on his elbows, looking out over the field. 

“We’re gonna have to give this spot up soon.”

Suguru frowned.

“We don’t have to give it up. We can always come back.”

“Yeah,” Satoru said, his voice soft, “but it won’t be the same. Not like this.”

Suguru didn’t answer right away. He’d thought about it too, the way this rooftop was tied to stolen lunches, stupid jokes, and the kind of everyday closeness that didn’t happen once life started pulling people in different directions.

Satoru’s hand found his without looking, fingers tangling easily. 

“Promise me we won’t… lose this. Us.”

Suguru turned to look at him, catching the hint of uncertainty in those unreal blue eyes. It was rare to see Satoru unsure about anything. 

“We won’t,” he said simply, like it was a fact, not a hope.

Satoru’s smile was smaller this time, but deeper somehow. He squeezed Suguru’s hand, the warmth of his palm grounding against the cool rush of wind.

For a while, they just stood there in their quiet corner of the world, watching the clouds drift. Below them, life was already moving forward. But up here, just for now, it was still theirs.

☀️************************************☀️☀️********************************☀️

Things never seemed to go as planned. Suguru got the call in the middle of the night, waking him up from a deep sleep. Suguru didn’t remember answering, didn’t remember the words, just the way his mother’s voice broke and the sudden, crushing silence that followed as she told him his father was gone. Taken on the highway coming home from work, drunk driver, dead on arrival.

The days after blurred together. The world lost its color. People came and went in a haze of murmured condolences, hands on his shoulder, eyes full of pity he couldn’t bear to meet. He moved through it all like he was underwater, breathing, but barely.

He stopped answering messages. Skipped classes. Let the twins fend for themselves more than he ever had. Food tasted like ashes in his mouth.

Satoru was there. Every day, without asking. Sometimes with food Suguru wouldn’t eat, sometimes with nothing but himself. He’d just sit there, on Suguru’s bedroom floor, flipping idly through a magazine or scrolling on his phone, saying nothing unless Suguru wanted him to.

At first, it annoyed him, this bright, beautiful boy who didn’t seem to understand that Suguru didn’t want company. But slowly, the quiet presence stopped feeling like intrusion and started feeling like oxygen.

One evening, the rain was coming down in sheets, the sound filling the heavy silence between them. Suguru was on his bed, still in the same hoodie he’d been wearing for days, staring at the ceiling. Satoru was beside him, close but not touching.

“You’re allowed to be angry,” Satoru said finally, voice low.

“I’m not angry,” Suguru murmured.

Satoru glanced over. “Then you’re allowed to be sad. Or lost. Or… anything you are right now. You’re allowed to feel it.”

Something in Suguru cracked at that. He rolled toward Satoru, burying his face in the hollow of his neck before the tears came. He hated crying, hated feeling weak, but Satoru didn’t flinch, didn’t speak, just wrapped his arms around him and held on.

That became their rhythm. Suguru’s grief was wavering, sometimes it receded enough for him to get out of bed, to shower, to sit on the couch and watch a movie. Sometimes it dragged him under for days. Through it all, Satoru stayed.

It wasn’t grand gestures or perfect words. It was the small things, Satoru texting the twins to make sure they ate when Suguru couldn’t, showing up with Suguru’s favorite tea even when he knew it would go cold untouched, quietly helping around the house with chores Suguru and his mom didn’t have the energy for.

And slowly, that steady presence became something more than comfort. It became a tether that pulled him back every time he drifted too far into the dark.

One night, weeks later, Suguru found himself lying on Satoru’s couch, head in his lap, the TV flickering quietly in the background. He looked up at him, his platinum hair messy from running his hands through it, blue eyes soft in a way they never were with anyone else, and realized he didn’t just love Satoru.

Satoru had become his safe haven, his home. The place he came back to when the darkness tried to take him.

“Thank you,” Suguru whispered, not sure Satoru would even hear it over the TV.

Satoru’s fingers threaded gently through Suguru’s hair, his smile quiet but sure. 

“Always.”

☀️************************************☀️☀️********************************☀️

Time passed as it always does and the end of Senior year approached. Suguru was sprawled on Satoru’s bed. It had been a month since the funeral. The grief was still there, he knew it always would be, but it had dulled, softened at the edges. He could breathe without the air feeling sharp. He could laugh without guilt.

Satoru was sitting in between his legs, head pillowed on his thigh, a controller in hand as he demolished him in their fourth round of some ridiculous racing game. The twins were at home with his mom, who had been working less since the loss. Satoru’s house was empty as usual. 

Suguru wasn’t really paying attention to the game anymore. He was watching the way Satoru’s shoulders shook when he laughed, the curve of his grin when he stole another victory, the way the light from the screen turned his hair almost silver.

And for the first time since everything fell apart, Suguru didn’t feel the heaviness in his chest. He felt… whole.

“Satoru,” he said, softly enough that Satoru had to pause the game and turn to look up at him.

“Yeah?”

Suguru swallowed, but the words didn’t stick in his throat the way he thought they would.They came easy.

“I love you.”

For a heartbeat, Satoru just stared, as if trying to make sure he heard right. Then his smile spread, brighter than any summer day. He twisted around, kneeling on the bed so they were facing each other.

“I love you too,” Satoru said, leaning in until their foreheads touched and kissed him. Soft at first, then with the kind of quiet certainty that made Suguru think maybe, just maybe, he’d been anchored here all along.

☀️************************************☀️☀️************************************☀️

The gym was still buzzing long after the last name was called—balloons bobbing against the ceiling, camera flashes popping, families clustered in tight circles of hugs and tears. 

Suguru stood just outside the chaos, his cap crooked from where his sisters had stolen it earlier for pictures. The weight of the gown felt strange on his shoulders, like a costume he wasn’t quite used to wearing. This was it, the end of high school.

Satoru found him first, weaving through the crowd with his own tassel askew, grin brighter than the overhead lights. Without hesitation, he pulled Suguru into a hug that was all arms and certainty.

 “We made it,” he whispered into his ear, the words almost lost in the noise.

“Yeah,” Suguru said, and for the first time all year, the word didn’t feel like something he had to force.

The rest of the group came crashing in seconds later. Yuki and Choso linking arms, Yuji shoving Sukuna toward them with a mock glare, Megumi trailing behind like he’d rather be anywhere else. Everyone was talking at once, comparing photos, recounting the ceremony, tossing graduation caps back and forth.

They ended up in a loose huddle in the middle of the parking lot, the evening light warm and golden around them. College acceptance letters had been traded like treasure over the last few months, different majors, different dreams, but the same city. The same campus.

“Next year’s gonna be insane,” Yuji said, already plotting late-night food runs and dorm movie marathons.

“Insanely good,” Yuki corrected, bumping Suguru’s shoulder with hers.

Suguru glanced around the circle at Sukuna’s smirk, Yuki’s spark, Choso’s calm smile, and Satoru’s steady presence beside him. After the year he’d had, the grief, the heaviness, the nights where even getting out of bed felt impossible, this moment felt unreal. Not perfect, not without its scars, but whole.

Satoru’s hand found his, their fingers curling together in the easy way they always did now. 

“Ready for the next chapter?” he asked softly.

Suguru looked at him, at all of them, and felt something like peace settle in his chest. 

“Yeah,” he said. “With you guys? Always.”

And as the sun dipped low, painting the sky in streaks of pink and gold, they stood there a little longer, a little reluctant to break the circle, holding tight to the last moment of what they’d been, and the first moment of what they were about to become.

Chapter Text

PRESENT DAY - 1.5 years after the bridge

The gallery was awash in soft golden light, the kind that made everything shimmer. Laughter drifted from clustered groups, glasses clinked, and the low hum of conversation carried under the gentle music playing from hidden speakers.

Satoru didn’t want to be there. Unless it was a requirement for work, he preferred a much smaller gathering these days. But Yuji had insisted and since Yuji was adorable and impossible to refuse, here he was. Satoru’d always had a soft spot for him, it couldn’t be easy being Sukuna’s brother, he thought with a chuckle. 

He stood at the back of the room holding a glass of bottom shelf wine someone had passed to him that he definitely was not going to drink while he scanned the rows of canvases. Yuji’s work had improved tremendously since the last time he saw it back in Sophomore year of college. It was a vibrant wash of colors, mostly abstract but thought provoking.

Along the next wall was a string of black and white photographs, large prints framed and matted against a black backdrop, rolling coastlines, mountains stretching up to the top of the canvas, frozen lakes reflecting the sky and dead trees along the shore. There was a painful ache about them, familiar in a way that hurt. He didn’t understand why he would have such a reaction until the photographer came into view. 

Suguru, dressed impeccably in a dark suit, collar unbuttoned, hair pulled back away from his face in a neat bun, a few wayward strands hanging defiantly in his face. Satoru froze in place. It had been over a year since the midnight encounter on the bridge, since Suguru had screamed “why wont you just let me die” at him. Since he walked him home, silent and heavy with all the things they didn’t say. 

Suguru must have had a sixth sense for him because he looked up at that exact moment and locked eyes with him immediately. For a moment, nothing else existed but Suguru standing across the room. Suguru faltered in whatever he had been saying to the woman standing next to him, he gently excused himself and stepped away, directly towards Satoru. 

An irrational part of him wanted to run but he didn’t. He waited, nervous, two people in a room alone that was full of glittering people. Did they not even realize that the very earth had just shifted?

“Satoru,” he said as an introduction. As though the very sound of his name on his lips didn’t cut his heart out. 

“Suguru,” Satoru gave a small nod, his throat tight. “Didn’t know I’d see you here.”

“I guess I could say the same,” he replied with a small smile “You’re here to support Yuji?”

“Yep, love that kid. He asked me to come.” Satoru gestured toward the vibrant paintings hanging front and center of the exhibit. “I didn’t know you were…still…into photography.”

God how stupid. Of course he still took pictures, idiot. Satoru took a deep breath. 

Suguru chuckled, “He’s the same age as you.” Then his expression straightened like he caught himself doing something he shouldn’t and continued awkwardly, “Uh, yeah, been doing it all my life you know,” he said because Satoru knew, of course he did. “But professionally for a couple years now, landscapes mostly as you can see.” 

The air was heavy between them. The last time they saw each other Suguru had been trying to throw himself off a bridge and now they were standing in a packed room talking about art. It was surreal. 

“I saw your work,” Satoru said quietly. “It’s… beautiful.”

“Thank you.” Suguru replied, and for a moment something shone there but it was gone before Satoru could place it. “So..you’re living here again?”

“Yeah, I moved back a little over a year ago,” Satoru replied, scratching at his shaved undercut. Right before I saw you that night, he thought, but didn’t add. It seemed like a taboo subject to bring up in the middle of such a fine establishment. The silence stretched between them, until his chest started to ache. 

“Well, I should go find Yuji, he’s gotta be around here somewhere.” Satoru said, starting to walk away. He turned back and looked at him one last time, “It was good to see you Suguru, really, you look great.”

Before he could walk away, Suguru shifted and cleared his throat, “Satoru, would you…maybe…would you want to grab coffee sometime? Nothing crazy, just..catch up? 

Half of him wanted to refuse, but his heart ached just standing here looking at him, “Yeah, okay I’d like that.”

He started walking again before he added, “Gojo Enterprises- my email address is on the website at the top under the banner for the CEO” he said with a beaming grin, “shouldn’t be too hard to find.” He gave a small two finger wave and walked away feeling lighter than he had in days. 

☀️************************************☀️☀️********************************☀️

It was a couple days later when he got a simple email in his inbox:

From: S. Geto

Wednesday at 12? If that doesn’t work let me know. I’m flexible

Also text me. Emails? What are we dinosaurs? xxx-xxx-xxxx

Satoru chuckled as he read it. The cafe Suguru picked out was one Satoru had never been in before. It was quiet, a place with cracks in the tables and mismatched mugs hanging from the walls. The air inside was warm and smelled faintly of mixed spices. 

Suguru was already there when he arrived sitting at a table by the window, the rain collecting in drops against it, darkening the mid afternoon light. The lights of the cafe softened his features, and Satoru was reminded how beautiful he was.

Their conversation was calm and surface level. There was a lot of ground to cover in the 5 years since they had really spent any significant amount of time together and there were a lot of topics they didn’t dare touch. Too much history, too sensitive. It was like walking a tightrope that could snap at any moment, one wrong step and it would all come crashing down.  

It was mid-conversation when Satoru saw it. Suguru was describing a storm he had photographed using his hands and his sweater slipped enough to show - a ring. The ring, left finger, silver, simple, unmistakable. 

Satoru felt his throat tighten but he kept his composure. He didn’t ask. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. His mind was in turmoil even as he nodded and made polite comments as their conversation flowed. Inside he was dying. Of course Suguru would have moved on, of course he wouldn’t just live alone forever pining away for Satoru. Even if Satoru never did move on, even if he never could. 

Suguru didn’t notice his discomfort, or the way his eyes kept glancing down to his fingers. Or if he did, he was polite enough not to mention it. They finished their coffee and got ready to leave. As Suguru pulled on his jacket, he smiled, warm and genuine and for a moment it was like all the years and space between them hadn’t happened at all. 

☀️************************************☀️☀️********************************☀️

Satoru went straight home, forgetting the office for the rest of the day. It didn’t matter. Who was going to tell him what to do? He laughed at the thought. His apartment was neat and clean, furniture pristine, marble counters. It was the kind of place where you dropped your things, slept, showered and left again. It wasn’t lived in. His life had become a series of places just like it. He’d stopped trying to add personal touches to temporary spaces. 

He set his keys in the bowl on the counter and loosened his tie, moving on auto pilot. The warmth of the cafe stayed with him, the warmth of Suguru’s voice. They’d parted with empty promises,  we’ll get together again soon. It was the kind of thing you said when you didn’t know how or when you could fit someone into your schedule. He’d smiled and nodded, but the space between them seemed insurmountable. 

He couldn’t get Suguru out of his head, his easy smile, the way he gestured with his hands when he was talking about something that truly excited him, the flash of the ring on his finger. Satoru sighed and laid back on his bed. 

He had not really been with anyone over the years, not really. There had been some nameless people, brief encounters to help fill the silences, nobody ever stayed. Nobody was ever allowed to. He never let them. He let his career consume him, carefully walking the path his father had set out for him, his stern disapproval carried always in the back of his mind. 

He thought about how when they were younger Suguru used to tell him he could be anything he wanted, for awhile he believed it, he chased it. How stupid he was to ever think he could have that kind of freedom. 

He rubbed his face with both hands hoping to chase away some of the heaviness he was feeling. His gaze slid to the box in the closet. He wasn’t sure why he still had it, he should have thrown it away years ago. Almost without thinking, he got up and grabbed it down, sifting through its contents for the first time in years. 

Inside was assorted mementos from his years dating Suguru, ticket stubs, photos, handwritten notes, little things that made them think of each other, and a small black jewelry box. Suguru had given it to him their first year of college, and he had worn it every day until everything fell apart and he couldn’t stand to look at it. 

It used to mean something. Always, infinity. It had made Satoru believe in the impossible, that someone would choose him forever, would want him forever. Now the box sits heavy in his palm, a reminder of what he had lost. He wasn’t sure why he couldn’t just throw it away. 

☀️**********************************☀️☀️************************************☀️

The days blurred together. Meetings, endless emails, polite brain rotting conversations that never meant anything. Satoru had perfected the art of the fake smile, the pleasant, unshakeable warmth that made him seem approachable but nobody ever got past the walls he had constructed around himself. 

He performed his expected role with ease, shook hands, exchanged business cards, fielded questions from people that did not care what answer he gave, only wanted to be seen talking with Satoru Gojo. The company was his armor, the one thing about him that people valued. Never him, he wondered if some people saw him as a person at all instead of just a figure head, a doll that posed, smiled, and nodded as directed. Nobody ever really saw him. 

He went home late most nights, the apartment immaculate and empty, silent as a stage. Same routine every night, keys in the bowl on the counter, loosen his tie, watch on the nightstand and collapse in bed without bothering to shower or turn on the TV. The silence was oppressive, reminding him he was alone. There was nobody there, nobody to call, nobody to check on him, nobody that cared if he ate or showered or did the dishes. It was easy, familiar and suffocating. 

☀️******************************☀️☀️***************************************☀️

Satoru had just finished another boring meeting when his phone lit up. 

Suguru: Dinner? Friday night? Let me know if you're free, I know a great place. 

Satoru stared at the screen for longer than he should have. He read it twice before responding.He really should decline. Nothing good could come out of them spending more time together. 

Satoru: Yes, send me the details. I’ll be there. 

That night, for the first time in months, the smile he caught in the mirror didn’t look fake. 

☀️*******************************☀️☀️*************************************☀️

The restaurant was nice, tucked into a side street and one Satoru wasn’t familiar with. Warm light glowed off wood paneled walls. Satoru sat across from Suguru, his nerves making him restless as he fiddled with the menu, the silverware, his spoon absently stirring his glass of water - anything to not linger too long on Suguru’s face, the curve of his mouth, the faint pinkish-purple glow from his eyes as they caught the light, the way he tilted his head when he was listening. 

“How’s work?” Suguru asked, after a long stretch of silence. 

“The same really,” Satoru said “Boring, numbers, meetings, charts.” He smiled a little, “and you? The gallery show really was incredible but I guess you can’t do that everyday, yeah?”

“Its been good, it's busy work. When I'm not actively out there shooting, I’m editing or writing pieces to accompany the photos. I spend a lot of time on the road usually but like to avoid it in the winter. “

They spoke like that for a while, keeping the conversation light, not mentioning things that may still hurt to speak about. Every now and then their eyes met across the table and it was harder to look away each time. 

Satoru couldn’t help but remember all the time they had spent together, back when Suguru had made him feel loved, wanted. Back when he had made him feel free. His gaze slipped to Suguru’s hand resting against the table, the ring catching the light and something cracked in him. 

He swallowed hard, “The ring,” he asked quietly “You’re married?”

Suguru went quiet. For a moment, it looked like he wouldn’t answer his thumb brushing across the band. 

“Engaged. We met through work last year. We traveled together for months on a long project, we fell..fast for each other.” He gave a small shrug, “He asked me about six months later.”

The words traveled over Satoru like ice. He shouldn’t have asked. 6 months? They had dated for years and never even talked about marriage. I guess it's true what they say..when you know..you know.

He nodded once and forced out, “That's..quick.”

“It was,” Suguru agreed, dropping his eyes to the table before lifting his head and adding with more confidence, “But it feels right.”

Satoru held back everything he wanted to say. The bitterness, the ache, the selfish desire that it should’ve been him. Instead he smiled, met his eyes and said, “That’s great, really. I’m happy for you.”

Suguru’s expression softened, a shadow of something, regret? Passing across his face. It was gone a moment later. 

“Thank you Satoru.”

The server cleared their plates, leaving behind their drinks. Suguru leaned back in his chair studying Satoru in the same way he always used to, like he could see right through him to all the thoughts he left tucked away inside. 

“What about you? Anyone special?” he asked softly.

Satoru froze. He could lie, he told the same story so many times. He could give him a random name he would never bother checking. It would be easier. Safer than the truth. But the only thing he could never do was lie to Suguru. 

He shook his head, “No,” his voice was steady but quiet, “There’s never been anyone else.”

Suguru’s brow furrowed, “Not even..”

“No,” Satoru interrupted, “ I mean don't misunderstand what I’m saying here. I’m not cellibate..I mean look at me..that’d be such a waste” he said with his old teasing grin before it fell off his face again replaced by something…sadder. “But this in here” he tapped his chest, meeting Suguru’s eyes, “No one else has ever mattered to me. Not like that.”

The silence was suffocating. Suguru’s hand curled around his drink but he didn’t sip it. He looked like he was about to say something but remained silent. His eyes softened and then shifted into something Satoru couldn’t read. 

Finally his words broke through, as though it was a struggle getting them there, “But you’re…you.” Suguru started, “Satoru you could have anyone.”

Satoru shrugged, “I don’t want just anyone.”

They sat there in the dim restaurant light, every word he spoke, raw and unfiltered and impossible to take back. It was only a simple statement but the implications were profound for the two of them. Because there was no way forward for them, and there was no way back.

The night air was crisp as they stepped out of the restaurant. Neither of them made a move to go separate ways. The silence stretched before them and then Suguru asked,

“You live near me right?”

Satoru could almost laugh, yes, he walked by his place without knowing it for months. But it probably wasn’t a good time to bring up the bridge. They should probably never mention it in fact, if they wanted to keep some sanity between them. 

“Yeah, opposite side from the river.”

Suguru nodded, “Right, I’ll walk with you.”

Satoru should have refused. I’m fine. I walk by myself all the time. Most nights actually. But he couldn’t refuse Suguru, he couldn’t refuse him anything. 

The city was always quiet by this time of night. They conversed as they walked, steps falling into rhythm like it was routine. Safe topics once again, just something to fill the space between them. It was easy to be with him again. Too easy. It made his chest ache. 

When they reached Satoru’s building, he paused before going in. 

“Do you..” he stopped, unsure if he should continue, “Do you want to come up? Just for a bit?”

Suguru hesitated for just a moment, as though weighing his choices. 

“Yeah,” he said. “I’d like that.”

Satoru led him up, feeling light and heavy at the same time. Not yet ready to let the night end. 

☀️*********************************☀️☀️**************************************☀️

Satoru’s apartment was beautiful, immaculate, untouched. It was filled with sleek furniture and polished surfaces that caught the light streaming in the floor to ceiling windows. It felt like stepping into a life he was no longer familiar with, the lack of any personal touches saying nothing about the man that lived within its walls. There were no photos, no books sitting on the tables, no blankets thrown over the back of the couches. It was sterile, like a hotel. Empty, hollow and for a moment, it made Suguru sad. 

Satoru moved through the place like a carefully carved statue. No longer the young man he remembered, but sharp and more defined. His platinum hair caught the glow of the overhead lights, his blue eyes glowed warm, kind, beautiful still, even after all these years. Yet, looking at him here, against the stark white walls and marble countertops, he looked..lonely. Like the emptiness of his apartment had become a part of him too. 

Satoru crossed the open space to his kitchen, opening the fridge and glancing inside, “beer okay?”

Suguru nodded, then realized he couldn't see him, “yeah, beer's good.”

Satoru stood with two dark bottles, twisting the caps off with steady hands and sliding one across the counter to Suguru. 

Satoru leaned against the counter looking at him, and Suguru felt that same familiar warmth he always felt around Satoru building in his chest. He took a long drink trying to calm the chaos in his mind. 

He was here, in Satoru’s kitchen. Older now, but still the same, like nothing had ever happened between them, like they had never been apart. 

The first couple beers went fast, and slowly they got more comfortable, moving to Satoru’s sleek couch. Laughter came easier, their conversation flowed, still staying on the surface, keeping their banter easy, safe. 

Suguru leaned back against the arm of the couch turning slightly to face Satoru. He was beautiful in the low light of his apartment. City lights flickering off to the side behind him. He wanted to hold this moment in his hand and never let go, but the questions that had been in the back of his mind since the night at the bridge shoved their way out guided along by the alcohol he drank. Before he could stop himself, he asked,

“Why did you leave?”

The words hung in the air between them.. 

Suguru’s emotions were going haywire, the alcohol didn’t help. “I tried.. ..to find you. You were just..gone” his voice caught on the last word. “I know it was my fault… ..I pushed you away.... ..I…but I never wanted..” he couldn’t finish overcome with words that had been buried in his heart for years. 

Satoru sat very still and for a long while he didn’t say anything, and then, quietly, almost a whisper, “I had to.”

No other explanation. No other words for the years of silence between them. Suguru closed his eyes, he wanted to ask, he wanted to know. Why? When he opened his eyes again he said nothing, the look on Satoru’s face stopping him cold. He had seen that look before and he never thought he’d ever see it again, raw and hurt, still, after all this time.

Silence stretched between them. 

“I never got over it,” Suguru admitted, barely audible and full of grief. 

Suguru pushed himself up from the couch, feeling the sudden heaviness of the night pressing down on him.

“I should..” he stopped, clearing his throat.  “I should probably go.”

Satoru looked up at him, his expression holding all the words they still couldn’t say to each other. He didn’t say anything, just looked at him and Suguru’s chest ached. It was too much, he didn’t trust himself to stay any longer.  

Satoru walked him to the door, “I’ll…see you later then?”

Suguru couldn’t look at him. He couldn’t or he would not go, and he had to. 

“Yeah,” he said softly. “See you.” 

The door closed softly behind him. Suguru walked home in a fog, his steps remembering the way while his mind wandered back to Satoru’s apartment, to the sound of his laugh, the softness of his features, the pain in his voice when he said ‘I had to’.  

Suguru’s throat tightened. It hurt, god it hurt so much. It was like losing him all over again. The hollow ache in his chest that never really went away, the neverending desire to hold on to something that kept slipping through his fingers. 

Suguru thought of his home, of the apartment that he shared with his fiance. The framed photographs that lined the hallway, mugs left on the counter, the warmth that always waited for him when he got home. His fiance loved him, completely, without history or shadow. With him, his life had been steady, safe and bright in a way that took Suguru a long time to even accept, like he didn’t deserve it. 

Tonight he had felt that old fracture inside him opening up. What he had at home was the kind of love most people dreamed of, it was real, it was solid, dependable. But Satoru.. ..Satoru was always.. different. Satoru was an inferno, a light that never dimmed, the love of his life.. ..lost but never forgotten. 

Suguru tilted his face up to the night sky, and for a moment he felt like the ache might swallow him whole. His apartment was dark and quiet when he got home, stepping silently inside and letting the warmth wash over him. It was lived-in, familiar, comforting. 

His fiance, Mahito, stirred as he pushed the bedroom door open, lifting his head slightly from the pillow, light hair mussed and eyes heavy with sleep. 

“You’re home,”  a slow smile curved across his face. “Late night at work?”

The words cut, though gently. Suguru swallowed, forcing his own smile, soft and apologetic. “Yeah. Deadlines. Sorry I didn’t text.”

Mahito yawned and reached for him lazily, fingers brushing Suguru’s wrist before falling back against the sheets. “Don’t apologize. Come to bed. You look exhausted.”

Suguru’s chest tightened as he leaned down to press a kiss against Mahito’s forehead. The warmth of it was grounding. It should have eased him. Should have reminded him of everything he had chosen, everything he had built. Instead, he just felt guilty. For being out so late and for lying. For sitting across from Satoru and wanting him, wanting him in a way he hadn’t let himself in years.  

He slipped under the covers beside Mahito, the mattress shifting as Mahito settled cuddled up against him, trusting and oblivious to his inner turmoil. 

Suguru couldn’t sleep. He stared up at the ceiling, his mind a mess of memories both past and present. He hadn’t thought about Satoru like this in years. Not to the point that it hurt. Tonight it consumed him, pressing him down until it felt hard to breathe. 

Mahito burrowed more against him in his sleep and Suguru closed his eyes praying for sleep to take him too. Caught between the man he had at his side and the ghost of the one who still lived in his heart.

Chapter Text

Present Day

The café was bright, all glass and warm wood, the kind of place Yuki  loved with light pouring over little ferns on every table, the faint smell of fresh bread drifting from the kitchen. Satoru arrived on time, dressed immaculately as usual. 

Yuki waved him over with her free hand, the other resting unconsciously over her rounded belly. Choso stood to clasp his shoulder before they all slid into the booth together.

It should have been easy. These were the people who had stayed by his side him even when he’d been half a world away, emails, holiday calls, quiet updates that stitched the years together. And for a while, it was easy. They talked about work and got caught up on their daily lives. Yuki teased him about still looking like he’d walked out of a magazine spread.

He smiled, answered, even laughed. But his mind kept wandering, slipping sideways into the image of Suguru leaning across his kitchen counter, the way his laugh had softened after that second beer, the way his ring had caught the light.

Satoru.. ..?”  Yuki’s voice cut through, gentle but insistent.

He blinked, realizing she’d been speaking to him. Both of them were watching him now, Choso with his steady frown, Yuki with raised brows.

“You’re a million miles away,” Yuki said. “What’s going on?”

Satoru hesitated, not sure if he should answer or what he would even say, but with these two he could always be himself. They knew him inside and out. He leaned back against the booth, exhaling slowly, bracing himself. 

“I ran into Suguru.”

The name settled between them. Yuki’s hand stilled on her belly. Choso’s expression didn’t change.

“When?” Choso asked.

“At that gala, the one Yuji was in.. ..and I guess Suguru too. But I didn’t know that when I went.” His voice was quieter now, careful. He didn’t mention the bridge, if they didn’t already know, it wasn’t his story to tell

He took a deep breath, “We’ve seen each other a couple times since.”

Yuki’s gaze softened, “How did that go?”

“It feels,” he said slowly, “like nothing has changed. And that everything has.”

For a moment, none of them spoke. Then Yuki reached across the table, resting her hand lightly over his.

“You know he’s not the same person you left,” Choso said. His tone wasn’t harsh, but it was firm, carrying the weight of someone who’d seen the aftermath firsthand. 

“He left me first!” Satoru shot back with more heat than he intended

“I know,” Choso said, putting his hands up in apology, “I know.. ..but you know how Suguru is… he went through hell, Satoru. It took him years to get to where he is now.”

Satoru thought of him on the bridge, the desperation that he must have felt that led him to that point and how different he seemed now over a year later.. better.

“A big part of that is Mahito,” Yuki added gently. Her voice wasn’t sharp, but it cut anyway. “They’re good together. Steady.” She tilted her head, searching Satoru’s face. “Have you met him?”

Satoru shook his head, “No.. ..and it would have been great for someone to tell me before I was blindsided by a ring on his finger.” 

Choso smiled, but it was pained, “Satoru…why would we do that, knowing what he means to you?” 

“Suguru’s happy with him,” Yuki said. 

Happy. The word sat heavy in Satoru’s chest, dragging. He managed a small nod, though his throat felt too tight to answer.

Choso leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. His voice dropped, quieter now. 

“I’m not saying that you’re not also important to him. God knows, you were always different..you were always…but you can’t..” he paused for a moment, “You can’t just step back into his life and start bringing up old feelings without thinking about how that is going to affect him… or how it will affect you.”

Satoru met his eyes, sharp and wounded all at once. “You think I don’t know that?”

“I think you know, but I think it's easy to forget when you're with him. It’s easy to slide back into something that familiar.”  

The truth of it stung. Satoru looked away, swallowing hard.

“We’re not telling you to stay away,” Yuki said softly. “He’s a grown man. He’ll make his own choices. But we love you both. We don’t want to see either of you get hurt.”

The words landed gently, but they landed all the same. Satoru leaned back in his seat, exhaling like he’d been holding his breath since they sat down.

“I don’t even know what I want,” he admitted. “I just… I missed him. And seeing him again…” His voice shook. “I just..never stopped loving him”

The table went quiet again, heavy with the silence that spoke of too much history and too much love to leave buried.

🌟****************************************************************************🌟

The apartment was warm with the smell of stir-fry, ginger and garlic rising in slow waves from the pan where Mahito stood, humming tunelessly. He’d rolled his sleeves up past his elbows, an apron tied carelessly around his waist, Suguru’s apron, though it hung too loose on him, like most things he borrowed.

Suguru leaned against the counter, arms folded, watching him move. He didn’t say much. He didn’t have to. Mahito had grown used to his silences, never reading them as distance. If anything, they were permission.

“Don’t just stand there,” Mahito said, glancing over his shoulder with a grin. “At least pretend to help. Chop something. Stir. Keep me entertained.”

Suguru arched his brow. “You’re doing fine without me.”

“That’s not the point,” Mahito teased, reaching blindly for the salt and nearly knocking it off the counter. Suguru caught it before it fell and set it down with a quiet sigh. 

Mahito laughed. “See? Already proving your worth.”

It was easy, this rhythm with Mahito. Safe. He filled the spaces Suguru couldn’t, smoothed over the rough edges without ever pointing them out. And yet, when Mahito laughed, shoulders shaking in that small kitchen, Suguru felt an unexpected pull in his chest. For the briefest second, it was Satoru he saw, Satoru’s sharp grin, Satoru’s voice. He blinked hard and looked away.

When they sat down, Mahito’s plate piled higher than Suguru’s, he was the one to fill the air, as always, telling stories from the office, half-joking about clients, imitating his coworkers in voices that made Suguru snort despite himself.

“You should’ve seen Jones trying to explain his new system. Man had a PowerPoint with twelve fonts on one slide. Twelve. I swear, it was like watching a crime scene.”

Suguru shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “You’re dramatic.”

“And you love it,” Mahito shot back, eyes bright. He reached across the table and stole a piece of broccoli off Suguru’s plate, undeterred by the glare he got in return.

Dinner wound down the way their evenings usually did. Suguru leaned back in his chair, absently tucking his hair behind one ear. Mahito watched him, openly, unashamed, the sharp lines of his face, the delicate way he carried himself, beauty that was almost untouchable. And yet here he was, sitting across from him. Mahito never stopped being aware of how lucky he was.

Suguru tried to stay present, trying to lean into the warmth of Mahito’s gaze. But his mind betrayed him. He saw blue eyes where there weren’t any, heard echoes of laughter from years ago, felt the ghost of a necklace pressed into his hand. Satoru’s name stayed unspoken, but it hung there all the same, just behind the silence he couldn’t explain.

Later, Mahito padded into the living room in one of Suguru’s oversized sweaters, sleeves hanging past his hands. He straddled his lap, resting his head against his shoulder.

“Long day?” Mahito asked quietly.

“Mm,” was all Suguru said.

Mahito didn’t press. He never did. Instead, he started kissing him. Working his way up his neck, soft at first and then with more heat, biting and nibbling at his skin. Suguru allowed himself to get lost in it, Mahito’s body pressed against his, smaller and warm against his larger frame and when Mahito pressed his hands against the growing bulge in his pants he didn’t stop him. 

Even later, with Mahito pressed into the mattress, the weight in his chest didn’t relent. It only grew heavier, because no matter how good and easy and safe this was right here with him, a part of him was still standing on a bridge staring at the one person he’d never been able to let go. 

☀️************************************☀️☀️************************************☀️

It had been four days since Suguru walked out of Satoru’s apartment and he couldn't stop thinking about him. Suguru stared at his phone longer than he should have before hitting send. The message was simple, harmless on its own.

Suguru: Dinner this week? Just the two of us?

But it wasn’t harmless, not really. He knew that. The moment it was gone, his chest tightened with the familiar guilt that had been clinging to him since the gala.

Satoru: Thursday, come over. I’ll cook. I do that now.

Suguru almost smiled. He could picture him typing it, making a joke at his own expense. 

Suguru: What time?

Satoru: 7, Bring your appetite. 

Suguru glanced toward the closed door of their bedroom where Mahito was asleep. He was always there, always home before Suguru, always waiting.

Suguru: I’ll be there. 

The lie came easy Thursday morning, as Mahito stirred in bed while Suguru got ready for work. 

What time will you be home tonight?” Mahito mumbled, voice heavy with sleep.

“Mm,” Suguru said, buttoning his shirt not meeting his eyes. “Might be early morning before I’m done. Deadline.”

Mahito reached out, brushing his fingers against the sleeve of Suguru’s shirt, then let his hand fall. “Don’t work too hard,” he whispered, and was asleep again before Suguru even stood up.

The guilt should have kept him home. It didn’t.

Satoru’s apartment smelled faintly of garlic and soy when Suguru arrived, steam already curling from the stovetop. Satoru was barefoot, sleeves rolled up, hair pulled back from his face with a ridiculous headband with ears. He was still gorgeous as he moved through the kitchen with confidence. 

Suguru stood in the doorway longer than necessary, watching.

“You’re late,” Satoru said without turning, though there was no bite in it.

“Smells good,” Suguru said. 

Satoru glanced over his shoulder, blue eyes catching Suguru like they always had. 

“I told you. I can cook now.”

Suguru’s lips quirked, a shadow of their old teasing. “Guess I’ll be the judge of that.”

They sat down across from each other at the small dining table, plates between them. The meal was simple, stir-fry with rice and miso soup. Not perfect, but good. Warm. Suguru ate slowly, trying not to notice the way Satoru watched him sometimes.

“See?” Satoru finally said when Suguru cleared most of his plate. “Told you I could cook.”

Suguru hummed, looking down at his bowl. “Not bad. For you.”

Satoru’s laugh was quiet, but it cut straight through the air between them, shattering something heavy. For a moment, it felt like it used to.

Suguru’s phone buzzed in his pocket. A text from Mahito. Just Goodnight. Miss you. Suguru didn’t open it. He set the phone face down on the table, ignoring the weight in his chest, and reached for his glass of beer instead.

“So,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady, “what else do you do now besides cook?”

Satoru smiled, leaning back in his chair, blue eyes sharp and bright in the dim light. His smile curved wider, teasing.

“Oh, you know. A little of this, a little of that.”

Suguru raised a brow, unimpressed. “That’s vague.”

Satoru hummed his agreement but didn't say anything else. 

For a moment, Suguru wanted to know, he wanted to know everything. Every moment he missed. He wanted to break down every wall Satoru had built around himself. He wanted to know if the man he lost was still there, underneath it all. 

The silence stretched, and Satoru broke it first.

“You should come by sometime,” he said casually, though the weight of his gaze betrayed the ease in his tone. “For a movie.”

“A movie?”

“Mm-hm.” Satoru sat back, finishing his drink with a single swallow before setting the glass down with a soft clink. “In my theater room.”

“Theater room?”

Satoru nodded, smug now, like he was revealing some carefully guarded secret. 

“Yep. Cushy reclining chairs, one hundred and forty-six inches of flat screen perfection, largest media library on the planet…” He ticked them off on his fingers, the faintest grin tugging at his mouth. “I mean, you know I’ve always liked movies.”

Suguru did know, remembering long nights in college sprawled out on a sagging couch cuddled together watching whatever movie Satoru had decided was the vibe for the day.

“And,” Satoru went on, his voice dipping lower, softer, “it’s soundproof.”

Suguru froze.

“We can be as loud as we want.”

The words hung between them, heavy with suggestion, masked as a joke. But Satoru’s eyes held his, unflinching, daring him to hear the undertone.

Suguru’s throat went dry. He looked away, back at his drink, but it didn’t erase the heat that had crawled up his neck, or the way his chest tightened. He knew Satoru meant for it to sting, to provoke, maybe even to remind him of all the ways they had once belonged to each other.

Suguru forced a small laugh, but it sounded thin in his ears. “Still cocky, huh?”

Satoru leaned forward, elbows on the table, his smile softening into something else.

“With you?” he said quietly. “Always.”

Suguru swallowed hard, unable to look at him. His fingers tightened around the bottle, not for the taste, but for something to hold onto.

Satoru’s last words still lingered in the air when Suguru, without quite meaning to, said, “How about now?”

“Huh?”

Suguru lifted his eyes from the table, his tone too steady, too detached from the playful current their conversation had been riding. “A movie. How about now? I don’t have anywhere else to be.”

For a moment, Satoru only stared, as if weighing whether he’d imagined it. Then he stood, almost too quickly, smoothing his shirt like he needed the motion to ground him. “Alright,” he said, voice low. “Now.”

The theater room was everything Satoru had promised, reclining chairs that seemed to swallow you whole, a screen so large it felt almost obscene. But none of it mattered once the lights dimmed.

They sat side by side, too close for strangers, too far for what they had once been. The opening credits washed across them in flickers of light and shadow, and Suguru became aware of every inch of space between them and of the warmth radiating from Satoru’s body where that space wasn’t quite enough.

He shifted, crossing his arms, then uncrossing them again. The cool weight of his ring pressed against his skin, an anchor he didn’t want to look at. He told himself he was here for a movie. He told himself it didn’t mean anything.

But then, in the dark, he felt Satoru’s hand brush his. Tentative, careful. A reach rather than a demand.

Suguru’s breath caught. For a suspended second, he thought about pulling away. He thought about Mahito waiting at home, about vows and promises and futures already written. He thought about all the ways this could unravel.

And still, he didn’t move.

Satoru’s fingers slid against his, curling, warm and certain. Suguru’s heart kicked against his ribs, but his hand stayed where it was. Anchored not by the cold band of metal on one hand, but by the heat of Satoru’s palm on the other.

They didn’t speak. The movie played on, the sound filling the dark room, but Suguru couldn’t have said what it was about. He only knew the steady weight of Satoru’s hand over his, quiet and unshakable, a truth neither of them had the courage to put into words.

When the credits rolled, neither moved at first. Then Suguru gently eased his hand away, flexing his fingers once before standing.

“I should go,” he said, voice rougher than he intended.

Satoru only nodded, his expression unreadable in the dim glow of the screen. He didn’t try to stop him.

The night air was cool as Suguru stepped outside, the city alive around him, distant and muffled. The heat of Satoru’s hand lingered in his, a phantom he couldn’t shake. He shoved both hands into his pockets, but the contrast remained,metal and promise on one side, warmth and memory on the other.

🌟****************************************************************************🌟

The door clicked shut behind Suguru, and silence fell heavy across the apartment. It was the kind of silence that pressed against the chest, making every breath feel too loud. Satoru didn’t move right away, just stood in the doorway staring at the spot where Suguru had stood only moments ago.

The theater room still smelled faintly of him, faint cologne and something sharper, clean, hair products probably. Satoru dragged a hand over his face and let out a slow exhale, willing the sound not to tremble.

He replayed it. The way Suguru’s hand stayed in his. The warmth of it. The trust, however fragile. After all these years, it still fit so perfectly it was as if his body had been made for this exact touch. No one else had ever come close. He’d tried, in halfhearted flings, in nights that never mattered. He’d let people into his bed, into his life for a little while, but not into him. Not really.

Only Suguru. Always Suguru.

Satoru sank onto the couch, elbows braced against his knees, staring down at his own hands. They looked empty now, pale in the dim light. He flexed them once, remembering the way Suguru’s had rested there, hesitant at first, then steady, as if neither of them wanted to let go.

Choso’s words came back to him then: I think you know, but I think it's easy to forget when you're with him. It’s easy to slide back into something that familiar. Yuki’s softer, but just as sharp: Suguru’s happy with him. 

They were right, of course. Suguru had a career, a life, a man who loved him enough to build a future with him. Satoru had no right to be here, sitting in the ruins of what they’d once had, aching for him like this And yet, he couldn’t stop.

Because in that moment in the dark, when their hands found each other again, it felt like coming home. Like everything he’d been missing since the day he walked away. Like something that wasn’t finished, no matter how much they tried to bury it.

He leaned back against the couch, eyes closing. The apartment felt bigger than ever, the kind of clean and empty that didn’t just mean tidy, but barren. Nothing here belonged to anyone but him. No warmth, no mess, no signs of a life shared.

He thought of Suguru’s hand again, the press of it, the way it made him believe that maybe he hadn’t been forgotten. Maybe he wasn’t alone in this.

It was reckless, selfish even, to want him still. But the truth sat solid and undeniable in his chest: There had never been anyone else and there never would be.

Chapter Text

 College / Freshman Year

Attending a Halloween Party in the first October of college was practically a rite of passage, the kind of unspoken thing everyone just seemed to know. Suguru walked hand in hand with his boyfriend towards the house, the night alive with possibility and the promise of not remembering it in the morning. Jack-o-lanterns glowed from the front porch steps grinning at them wickedly while paper bats dangled overhead. Orange and purple lights glowed from above the porch lights while skeletons dressed in everything from sparkly dresses to pirates lounged across the lawn.

Two ghouls stood guard at the door but immediately moved aside when they spotted Satoru, unmistakeable even in costume. Suguru was dressed as a gothic style vampire in a long velvet coat with intricate silver details on the high collar that brushed his chin as he moved. Beneath the coat he wore a crimson silk vest, and a long sleeve black silk shirt with lace details. His face was done up in make-up enhancing his sharp features and making him look half dead which was only accentuated further by the blood red contacts he wore. He gave the ghouls a quiet nod as they passed, fingers entwined with the hand that was guiding him inside.

Satoru shimmered from head to toe, the tailored silver suit he wore clung and flowed in all the right places. Every part of his body sparkled and caught the light as he moved. A pair of sparkly cat ears sat on his head only barely peaking out above his platinum hair and a long fluffy tail swished out behind him as he led the way through the party. The only other signs of being a cat were the delicate whiskers drawn on his face with black eyeliner and the tip of his nose darkened to match. “I’m whimsical,” he told Suguru as they got ready. He was impossible to look away from. 

Once they were inside, Satoru didn’t hesitate to head straight for the kitchen. His platinum hair caught the assorted mood lights changing color as he went, and within seconds of crossing the threshold, people were calling his name, clapping him on the back and pulling him into quick conversations. At some point Suguru had dropped his hand, the warmth still lingering on his palm.

Suguru stayed close, letting Satoru lead him through the house like a spark trailing a flame. Yuki, dressed like a sexy nurse with a short white dress that hugged every curve and red fishnet tights that made her legs look impossibly long, and Choso, dressed as himself in black jeans and a band t-shirt with a Michael Myers mask dangling off his neck were already there curled together on an old leather couch. 

Sukuna, wearing a shirt that read ‘this is my costume’ in bold block letters, leaned against the wall with a drink, silently judging everyone as they passed by. 

They found Yuji dressed in bright yellow head to toe fleece, cheeks painted with red circles and a smile that lit the whole room. Megumi stood next to him wearing only the hat that identified him as Ash, a small pokeball necklace, and an expression like he would rather be anywhere else. Yuji was rocking on the balls of his feet mixing drinks.

“Cute costume,” Satoru told Yuji, winking at him as they walked in. 

Megumi scowled at him, “what are you supposed to be?”

“Duh…I’m a cat.” Satoru replied, pointing up to the cat ears sticking out from his wild platinum hair. 

“You’re sparkly,” Megumi complained. “It’s hard to look at.”

“Be nice,” Suguru chided.

Satoru just laughed and moved past them to get a drink. Once drinks were secured, they moved back into the main room.

Suguru claimed the spot next to Choso and Yuki and pulled Satoru into his lap. Satoru wrapped his arms around him and they chatted for a bit before Satoru was called over to join a group near the beer pong table. Suguru stayed where he was, sipping his drink, watching him work the room like he was born for it. Ten minutes later, Satoru reappeared, slightly flushed, eyes warm when they found Suguru.

“Sorry,” he told him, leaning close. “They wanted me to play a round. I, of course, had to show off for a second”

“Of course.” Suguru replied with a smile and Satoru plopped down into his lap again.

They sat together for maybe another ten minutes before a girl, dressed provocatively in a midnight black bunny suit and long black sparkly ears, pulled on his arm smiling while she tried to drag him into the circle of dancers. Out on the dance floor was a strange assortment of dancing animals, a golden fox tail flashed, a lion's mane bent low, cat ears and bear paws moving in rhythm under the dancing lights. How could he refuse such an invitation? Satoru shot him an apologetic look as he got up and disappeared again.

“You’re covered in glitter now,” Yuki told him, giggling as Satoru walked away. 

Suguru smiled and shrugged, “It was inevitable.”

“You think that girl has the hots for him or what,” Yuki asked, arching her eyebrow.

“Probably,” Suguru said but he was still smiling. It didn’t matter who liked Satoru, it wouldn’t be reciprocated. He wasn’t worried about it at all. 

When Satoru returned, he collapsed back into his spot on Suguru’s lap, sliding his arm back around his shoulder and depositing more glitter across Suguru’s costume  as though he was claiming him until he also sparkled under the lights. 

“I’m terrible at this, huh?” Satoru said, turning the full force of his pretty blue eyes on him, “We were supposed to be hanging out,” he added with a pout.

“You’re popular. You always have been.” Suguru replied pulling him closer with a firm hand on his waist, glitter be damned. 

“I want to be with you,” Satoru said. “But….”

Suguru just pulled him closer until their foreheads were touching, his voice low and warm and only for him. “It’s fine baby, just keep coming back to me.”

Satoru’s answering smile was quiet, almost shy. “Deal.” and then he kissed him, slow but searing, making it clear that for him, there was only one person in this whole party that mattered. 

The night went on like that, secret moments stolen in corners before Satoru was swept away again.

It was during one of those absences that Suguru made his way back to the kitchen for another round. A girl in a red skin tight dress and heavy eye makeup smudged to perfection walked up to Suguru leaning against the counter beside him, blocking his way back out.

“You’re not much of a talker, are you? I’ve seen you before around campus..the quiet type” she paused and swayed a bit from the effects of the alcohol “Your hot.”

“Thanks,” Suguru replied unphased. “But I’m taken.”

“By him?” she asked, glancing over to where Satoru was standing, taking shots with some other students dressed like all the main characters from Mario Bros. 

“He’s gorgeous. He could join us too.” she added with an outrageous arch of her eyebrow. 

“No thank you,” he politely declined. “I don’t share.”

Suguru’s eyes drifted past her, drawn to the flash of pale hair across the room, and watching the way Satoru’s smile slid off his face after each shot just to recover two seconds later with a mile wide grin.

“That's too bad” she said, following his gaze. “Lucky guy.” Then she disappeared into the crowd.

Suguru was making his way back over to Yuki and Choso when Satoru came back, face flushed and slightly tipsy on his feet. He grinned and wrapped his arms around Suguru’s neck. “Miss me?”

“Always,” Suguru said, and meant it.

The air outside was cooler when they stepped outside for a moment, a welcome contrast to the fever of the party. Satoru leaned against the porch railing, silver glitter catching the porch light so he gleamed like he belonged to the stars, not this earth. His eyes, though, were fixed entirely on Suguru.

“Someone told me you got hit on tonight.”

“Yeah.”

Satoru tilted his head, “That’s it? Just ‘yeah’?”

Suguru smirked faintly. “She didn’t stand a chance.”

“Oh?”

“Nobody stands a chance when the hottest guy in this town is in the room, and also happens to be my boyfriend,” Suguru replied with the ghost of a smile and a wink.

Satoru’s expression softened. He stepped closer, catching the front of Suguru’s hoodie and tugging him in closer.

“You’re going to kill me with lines like that.”

“It's not a line if it's true,” Suguru replied then he kissed him before the next thought struck and he had to pull away and laugh.

“That girl was actually hitting on you too..when I turned her down, she said you could also join.” Suguru said laughing.

“She what?” Satoru exclaimed in mock outrage. 

“I told her I don’t share.” 

Whatever reply Satoru had in mind was swept away as Suguru’s lips met his, hot, urgent and sloppy. They kissed like every moment they had spent apart this night all collided within this moment. 

When they parted, lips slick with spit, Satoru whined, “Suguruuu, you look so hot as a vampire. Are you sure you don’t want to nibble just a bit,” he asked, tilting his neck, long lines and pale skin glittering in the porch light. 

He did. God how he did. But he could wait. It would only make the indulgence later sweeter. He grabbed Satoru’s hand and ignored his pout as he led him back inside and chuckled as he watched Satoru’s mood shift instantly when he saw the opportunity to photo bomb Yuji and Megumi’s cute selfie. He was easy to please sometimes. 

They left sometime after midnight, the party noise fading into the distance. Satoru’s hand stayed hooked into Suguru’s coat pocket, their fingers tangled together inside as they walked.

When they got to Satoru’s apartment, Satoru stopped before going up.

“Suguru?”

“Yeah?”

“I love being yours.”

Suguru didn’t answer, he just brushed his thumb along Satoru’s jaw and kissed him once, soft and unhurried. Then followed Satoru upstairs. When the door shut Satoru was on him, pinning him back against the wall. Satoru’s jacket and pants were unbuttoned in seconds, his hands deftly removing Suguru’s long coat, piles of clothes forming around them as his hands wandered everywhere they could reach. 

“Baby, let's shower, you’re covered in glitter.” Suguru managed to get out in between kisses. 

Satoru whined, like he always did when he didn’t get his way but pulled him into the bathroom anyway. He didn’t stop kissing him as the water warmed up, breaths hot and fast, hands gliding up Suguru’s shirt as he whined into the kiss for Suguru to remove it. Suguru did as requested, tugging his shirt off in one fluid motion, barely breaking their kiss before Satoru’s mouth was on him again. Satoru looked into his eyes and whined again, “the contacts are so hot, don’t take them out.”

Satoru’s lips dropped to his neck, he didn’t stop kissing him as they stepped into the shower, and before Suguru could even get his whole body wet, Satoru dropped to his knees. 

He looked so pretty when he looked up at him, glitter still bouncing light off his face, eye lashes pale and wet against his face. His drawn on whiskers were smudged but instead of looking messy it just defined his cheekbones. Suguru wanted to ruin him. Satoru opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out waiting, and Suguru was already half hard at just the sight of his boyfriend on his knees in front of him. 

Suguru set the tip on Satoru’s tongue and watched as he licked slow and teasing around the head until Suguru grabbed the back of his head and shoved his cock down Satoru’s throat. Satoru swallowed him down in one fluid motion, hollowing his cheeks and forcing a moan from Suguru’s lips. 

Satoru watched him as he worked back and forth on his cock, his blue eyes wet and glistening, drool dripping down his chin as Suguru’s cock rocked in and out of his mouth and water rained down on them. Suguru entwined his fingers more in his wet hair, fucking into his hot, sloppy mouth while Satoru moaned and whined around his cock as he hollowed his cheeks more sucking hard, watching Suguru come undone as his thrusts came faster and more erratic. Gathering all the willpower he possessed, Suguru pulled out before he could explode down Satoru’s willing throat. Satoru whined again at the loss, pouting up at him.

Suguru couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped him, fuck he loved Satoru. Ever since they had finally started having sex over the summer, his boyfriend was such a little cock slut. Suguru pulled Satoru up onto his feet still smiling, hooked his hands under his thighs and in one swift movement lifted him up. Satoru wrapped his long legs around him and giggled gleefully. He was always so happy to get what he wanted. Suguru pinned him up against the shower wall, kissing him roughly. His mouth was sweet, salty and tinged with alcohol, divine elixir, and he couldn’t get enough. 

“Fuck, you’re so hot baby,” he breathed into his neck, sucking up the water droplets as they glided over his skin. 

Suguru stumbled a bit, slipping a little in the slick of the shower. Maybe a bit too drunk for sexual acrobatics. Reluctantly, he set Satoru down and Satoru whined again, pouting up at him like he had committed a great offense. Suguru laughed again, and kissed him once, briefly. 

“Clean up, then we’ll play. I can’t do it standing right now. I’m gonna fall over.”

Satoru was still pouting, “Fine, be fast… and I want to ride.” Then he grinned at him. 

The next three minutes was the fastest and also the slowest Suguru had ever showered in his life. He was barely dry before Satoru was pushing him back on the bed and crawling on top of him. Suguru couldn’t help but admire him, he was a masterpiece of a man, sculpted muscles, firm abs, perfect pink cock already dripping, and the most beautiful face he had ever seen. A work of art, and he was all Suguru’s. 

Satoru took him into his mouth again while he used his other hand to prep himself. Suguru threaded his fingers through Satoru’s hair but resisted the urge to thrust. Satoru had told him what he wanted and he was going to let him have it. Satoru moaned and whined against his cock as he worked himself open, licking and sucking and making a slobbery mess. Satoru looked up at him, eyes glassy and mouth full of cock and he almost came right there. ‘fuck he was so goddamn sexy’ 

Satoru released his cock with a plop and crawled up his body to straddle him. Suguru barely had time to appreciate the change in the view before Satoru was sinking down on him and he had to close his eyes to keep from blowing right then. 

“Look at me,” Satoru panted, breathless, throat still hoarse from having Suguru’s cock shoved down it. 

Suguru did. The view was incredible. He ran his hands up and down Satoru’s body, fingertips tracing over tight muscle, gliding over his thighs, anchoring him in his touch as all the tension went out of his body. Satoru started to rock, gently at first and then faster, gliding his warm body up and down on Suguru’s thick cock. Satoru moaned and whimpered with every slide and Suguru could’ve closed his eyes and gotten off to the sound alone. But this view, this was meant to be appreciated so he did. Watching as Satoru leaned back, tilting his face up and exposing all the long lines of his body. 

From this angle, Suguru could see the outline of his cock as he entered his boyfriend's lean body. He watched as Satoru lifted and dropped, seeking his own release while his pretty cock flapped untouched with each bounce. Suguru could see the exhaustion as Satoru started to slow his movements and without warning, he flipped them. 

Satoru whined as he was flipped onto his back and Suguru’s thick cock slipped from his hole. His whine changed to moans as Suguru took control pulling his legs up by his chest and pounding into him fast and hard. The only sounds in the room were the slap of their bodies together, the creak of the bed, and Satoru moaning and whimpering beneath him. Suguru thrusted repeatedly into his sweet spot as Satoru came undone, squirming and panting until his entire body stilled, eyes rolling back in his head as his orgasm rocked through his body, legs shaking and cum squirting from his untouched cock all over his chest and hitting his face.

The sight alone did Suguru in, one more thrust and he released, filling Satoru and leaning down over him to lick at the cum trail on his face. Satoru looked at him and his eyes were filled with desire and love and trust and all the things that they were to each other. Suguru kissed him again and Satoru sighed into it. Suguru pulled out and collapsed next to him on the bed. Satoru cuddled up next to him, utterly spent and minutes away from falling asleep.

“Happy Halloween,” Satoru said with a sleepy grin. God, he loved him. 

🌟***********************************************************************🌟

One of Suguru’s favorite bands was coming to town and missing it was simply not an option. The second tickets went on sale he was already clicking purchase without even thinking about the price. He bought two, because it was also mandatory that Satoru come with him.

“What? Why? You know you’ll probably have more fun without me. I’ve never even heard of their music,” Satoru complained when he asked.

“It will be fun and I want you there, please baby?” Suguru countered. And that was all it took. Satoru may whine about it, but he would never outright reject him.

The venue was small, the kind of place that bands played in before they got real big, before the ticket prices tripled in and the merch table required one to go into debt to acquire a custom hoodie. The walls were plastered with old frayed posters of all the bands that had played there over the years, a shrine to what once was, many of the names now filling stadiums and regularly blasting over the radio. The air inside was hot and smelled like a combination of sweat, cheap cologne and alcohol. 

Sukuna led the way inside and people parted out of his way like he was made of acid. Yuki and Choso came next then Suguru with Satoru trailing behind him clutching his hand like a lifeline. Satoru could admit that he was out of his element. He looked around at his friends that were all dressed in black on black with some form of boot. Suguru looked especially good in black jeans, the band's t-shirt, and his dark hair loose and falling in his face. 

Satoru tried to blend in, but all of his clothes were designer and tailored to fit. The only black t-shirts he owned were Suguru’s which he currently wore. A random one he chose out of Suguru’s closet as they got ready that had a skull surrounded by lotus flowers design on it. He was hoping some stranger didn’t ask him to name three songs from the band on his shirt, he wouldn’t be able to. 

People glanced his way and he tried not to feel self conscious about it, but he just didn’t blend with the people around him. His hair alone made him stick out like a sore thumb. Suguru guided him through the throng of people, his grip on his hand his only hope of not getting lost in the bodies around him. 

They found a spot front and center and Suguru positioned himself slightly behind Satoru, protective, one arm resting on his waist. Yuki and Choso were both in front of them since they weren’t as tall and Sukuna had already made his way to the pit- which sounded terrifying. 

The lights dropped and the first distorted chord ripped through the room. Satoru could feel the bass in his chest as the crowd surged closer to the stage pressing them all together. Suguru steadied him so he wouldn’t fall, pressing against him and keeping other wandering hands away. When he glanced back, the smile on Suguru’s face was blinding. 

Yuki and Choso were shouting along to the lyrics, Sukuna had been lost to the throng of people behind them. Suguru moved to the music like it was built into him, his eyes following the guitarist as they danced across the stage. 

Satoru tried to follow the rhythm, he did. But every time he felt like he got it, it changed. By the third song, he gave up. He was enjoying it, of course, the energy in the room was crazy and it was nice being so snug next to Suguru, but he couldn’t help but feel like he didn’t belong. 

By the fifth song, he wasn’t counting okay? By the fifth song, Suguru had his arms wrapped around his waist and was slowly swaying with him to the beat. It was grounding, comforting, at least here with Suguru, that was somewhere he knew he belonged. The whole time Suguru’s eyes never left the stage. Was it possible to be jealous of a stage? He didn’t know. 

By the time the show was over, everyone was breathless, sweaty and exhilarated. Yuki could barely speak, her voice raw from singing along. Choso was exhausted, leaning heavily on Yuki and looking like he may fall over at any moment. Sukuna was sporting a new black eye, a trophy from the pit he said with a grin. Suguru looked beautiful, hair damp and sticking to his skin, face flushed and he was happy. Smiling from ear to ear.

Suguru grabbed his hand and led him outside into the cool night air. The streetlamps cast pools of pale light across slick pavement, and the air smelled faintly of rain and cigarette smoke.

Yuki and Choso were laughing as they walked, recounting their favorite parts. Sukuna had found another group outside and wandered off to talk to them. Suguru led Satoru over to a stone ledge and sat down. Satoru wanted to feel the excitement that they all did but it just wasn’t working. They were high on a drug that he just didn’t take.

Satoru wanted to do something that fit, something that could make him feel like he belonged to this night too. Something to make the others remember him too when they thought back to tonight's events. 

“You guys hungry?” he called, pitching his voice just loud enough. “There’s a diner a few blocks over that’s open late. My treat.”

Yuki lit up instantly. “The one with the giant milkshakes?”

“Yeah,” Satoru said, already pulling out his phone. Paying for it all, that was something he could do.

 “Satoru, ” Suguru said chastizing, pulling him close. 

“What? You’re not hungry?” Satoru complained.

“I am and if you want to go to the diner, we can go.. ..but love..you don’t have to pay for everyone. You don’t have to make some grand gesture to feel included here.. ..you know that yeah?”

Satoru’s head dropped to Suguru’s shoulder,  “I don’t… I just don’t fit here.” he said, his voice small and not like him at all, “Not like you do ... .I'm…I’m..Britney Spears and Taylor Swift and…I don’t know why you even wanted me to come.” 

Suguru lifted his face up to look him in the eye. “I know that, that’s not why I wanted you to come.”

“Then why?” He asked his voice soft and only for Suguru.

“Because I love you and I wanted you with me.” The words were simple, but they landed heavy, and Suguru sealed them with a kiss which Satoru returned like it was the last useful thing he would do on this earth.

“Uuggh, are you guys done being gross?” Sukuna complained walking back over to them, “Lets go eat!”

The others were already drifting toward the corner, Suguru pulled away from the kiss smiling, gave Satoru’s hand a light squeeze and pulled him along to the diner.

It was late by the time they got back to Suguru’s apartment. The food and company at the diner had burned off most of the remaining adrenaline. Suguru walked ahead leading Satoru, his hand solid and warm. He peeled off his sweat slick clothes and plopped back onto the bed with a groan.

“I don’t have it in me to shower tonight,” Suguru complained. 

Satoru sat on the edge of the bed and smiled back at him, “then don’t.”

Suguru looked at him like he was confused that he was still dressed and sitting instead of laying next to him.

“Aren’t you staying?” he asked.

Satoru didn’t say anything. There was an unquiet in him that he couldn’t quite place. It had been different in Suguru’s world. He wasn’t sure he belonged there. 

Suguru shifted over closer and wrapped an arm lazily around him, nuzzling up to his thigh. 

“You didn’t have to try so hard tonight you know.”

“I know.. ..I wanted to” Satoru said, “Even if it's not my thing.”

Suguru’s thumb absently traced a pattern on his thigh. “You are my thing.”

It was the kind of cheesy line that he normally would have laughed at, but tonight it hit different. He was Suguru’s thing, that had to be enough. Satoru undressed and crawled into bed with him, cuddling up against Suguru under the blanket comforted by the steady rise and fall of his breathing, and within minutes had fallen asleep. 

Chapter Text

College/ Freshman Year 

Christmas at the Gojo Mansion was an event that Satoru couldn’t refuse. He begged Suguru to come with so he would have at least one person to talk to. The mansion was decorated with white lights along the eaves and perfect wreaths that looked like they were plucked right out of a catalog and stuck to the door. Inside, the marble gleamed just like it always did but it didn’t feel the same. Rooms that usually sat empty were now filled with music and laughter. 

Suguru had only ever seen the mansion as an empty place, every visit before it had just been him and Satoru and occasionally their friends. Satoru’s parents were never there and the staff always kept their distance. Most of the time, it felt like hanging out in a museum after hours. 

Tonight was different, it was alive. Satoru guided him through the house holding his hand with no care for who saw or what they may think of two young men joining hands. Men in tailored suits and women in expensive gowns floated from room to room. Younger guests, maybe their age, wandered aimlessly looking bored and out of place. 

Suguru pulled at the edges of his borrowed suit. The jacket was too tight in the shoulders and the fabric was stiff and itchy against his neck. Satoru had offered to buy him something brand new, tailored to fit, just for the occasion but Suguru had refused. Even though he knew the price tag meant nothing to Satoru, he still felt weird about spending his money. 

Satoru looked amazing and radiant as always, like he just stepped out of a magazine spread. His suit was powder blue and fitted to perfection, the fine fabric hugged his lean frame and accentuated his small, very sinful, very touchable waist. His hair was a silver mess on top of his head, ever unruly yet it shined in the soft lighting. Suguru couldn’t keep his eyes off him.

As they walked through, every few steps someone stopped them as they recognized Satoru, grinning at him, clasping his shoulder like an old friend, or asking him questions that they didn’t wait to hear the answer to. 

“You want something to drink?” Satoru asked after the third introduction.

Suguru raised an eyebrow at him, “Can we?”

Satoru grinned, “Yeah, literally nobody will care.”

Satoru headed toward a table stacked with champagne flutes, but someone intercepted him pulling him towards their table and Suguru found himself standing alone at the edge of the room. 

Suguru let his gaze wander over the expensive decorations that covered every surface, everything perfectly placed as though it had been mapped out in advance. Satoru returned and handed him a champagne flute and was present for five minutes before he was pulled away again to meet someone. The swell of music and voices filled the space where he’d been.

Suguru took a slow sip of champagne, eyes scanning the crowd for a glimpse of platinum hair, when a voice, warm and steady, came from his left.

“You must be Suguru.”

He turned, and for a heartbeat his chest tightened at the resemblance.. ..the man was almost Satoru’s height and had the same fine-cut features, but with dark hair cut razor short and eyes the color of tea. Where Satoru’s presence was electric, his was quieter, like a gentle current you only noticed once you stepped into it.

“I am,” Suguru said, offering his hand. “And you’re… Senji?”

The man’s smile deepened. “So he has mentioned me.”

“A few times,” Suguru admitted. “Nice to finally meet you.”

Senji nodded, glancing toward the crowd as if tracking Satoru the way Suguru had been. “Four years, and you’ve never met his family? That… ..sounds like him.” His tone held no judgment, just understanding.

Suguru wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he stayed quiet.

“I wasn’t cut out for all this,” Senji said, gesturing faintly toward the glittering party. “The business dinners, the polite smiles, the… ..pretending. I left for college miles away from here, and I didn’t come back.” He gave a small, almost sheepish shrug. “I was always protective of him when we were kids. But Satoru… he was a daddy’s boy back then. Wanted to impress him. Wanted to belong in this world. I always felt a little bad about leaving him behind.”

Suguru looked back toward the crowd, catching sight of Satoru laughing politely at something an older man said.

Senji’s voice softened further. “He looks different tonight. Happier. More… ..himself. I’m guessing that’s your influence.”

Before Suguru could answer, Satoru was suddenly there again, warm hand finding his arm, blue eyes lighting up like the rest of the room had faded away. He gave his older brother a quick hug and then had eyes only for Suguru. 

“Sorry,” he said, smiling softly. “Got pulled into something.”

Senji gave Suguru the smallest nod, like he’d just confirmed something to himself, before melting back into the party.

They talked for a few minutes before Satoru was pulled away yet again to meet some important investors. He cringed and sighed dramatically to Suguru before following the staff that had come to collect him. Once Satoru was gone a girl in a tight green dress slipped up beside him as though she had been waiting for the chance to talk to him. Her brown hair gleamed under the lights, and she smiled, all teeth, white and perfect, like she was used to being noticed.

“I don’t think we’ve met,” she said. “You’re here with Satoru, right?”

“Yeah.”

Her smile tilted, like she already knew the answer. “Lucky you,” she said and there was something hungry in her voice that he didn't like.

Suguru hummed his agreement turning his attention away from her and back to the crowd around them. 

“It must be boring standing here all alone," she purred "if you get tired of waiting we could…”

“Not going to happen,” he said before she could finish.

Disbelief and anger flashed across her face, then was replaced by a look of disdain as though he was beneath her anyway and she had been doing him a favor by asking. She walked off without another word.

When Satoru returned with two flutes, his expression held an apology. “Sorry, I didn't think I’d be so popular tonight, usually they leave me alone at these things.”

“It’s okay,” Suguru said. He glanced toward the towering windows, beyond which the backyard stretched pale under winter lights. “This isn’t really my scene.”

Satoru’s brows knit. “It’s not mine either.”

“You say that, but everyone here knows you.”

“That’s not the same as belonging.” Satoru’s voice was soft, almost lost in the noise. “You’re the only thing here that feels like home.”

Suguru’s chest tightened. He set his untouched champagne aside. “Show me something you like then.”

Satoru grabbed his hand and they slipped out a side hallway lined with portraits, faces of people with Satoru’s features and perfect posture, but lacking all of his light. Past the kitchen, through glass doors, the backyard opened up before them, a vast expanse of grass, landscaping and the pool house off to the side. 

Satoru sat on a wooden patio bench, looking out at the cold December night. 

“Too cold for this,” Suguru shivered, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Satoru shrugged, tipping his face up to look at the stars. “Feels good, though. Like… this is the only inviting part of the whole house.”

Suguru studied him, watching how the moonlight caught in his hair as though it glowed for him alone. “You really don’t like it in there?”

Satoru’s lips pressed together in something not quite a smile. “It’s not about liking it. I know how to move in that world, how to be who they expect. It’s like wearing a suit that fits perfectly but isn’t mine.”

“Sounds exhausting.”

“It is.” Satoru’s gaze dropped to the ground, patting the seat beside him. Suguru sat down next to him.

Satoru looked at him, his eyes luminous in the faint porch light.  “When I’m here with you, I can… breathe. Doesn’t matter where we are. You make it feel like it’s ours.”

Suguru reached over, fingers brushing Satoru’s before twining together. Satoru rested his head against his shoulder. Relaxed for the first time that night. The glittering party behind them might as well have been empty again, because in that moment only the two of them mattered. 

Satoru shifted, the weight of him warm against Suguru’s side. He turned towards Suguru, eyes shimmering in the pale porch lights. Satoru was beautiful truly, all the time without even trying. It made Suguru’s chest ache. He closed the distance between them pressing his lips to Satoru’s and he sighed softly into it, relieved, as though with one touch whatever weight he had been carrying had been lifted. 

They kissed like they’d both been starved for years, a deep seated hunger that was never fully quenched. Satoru pulled away and Suguru chased his lips, wrapping his hands snugly around his waist pulling him closer until Satoru was halfway on his lap. The warmth of their bodies pressed flush together helped to ward off the chill, their breaths visible and grey against the dark night. 

Satoru groaned, the sound low, wrecked, and like music to Suguru’s ears, his hips jerking forward trying to collapse the small distance between them. Suguru slid his tongue against Satoru’s as he pushed him back on the bench wanting to devour him right there. Forget the party inside, nothing else mattered, just the two of them together entwined on this bench. 

Satoru broke away, gasping, lips kiss bitten and wet, “We can’t do this here.” he said as though he was trying to convince himself. 

Suguru wiped his thumb along Satoru’s jaw and under his bottom lip where a fine sheen of spit had collected. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Suguru replied, his hand cradling the side of Satoru’s face. 

Satoru huffed out a laugh and stood up from the bench, adjusting himself and shaking his shoulders. 

“Come on, let's make one more round and then we can go,” he said, grabbing Suguru’s hand and helping him to his feet. 

As soon as he was standing, Suguru pulled Satoru close, crushing their mouths together in a kiss that was all teeth and tongue. Satoru groaned into it, melting against him, fingers clutching Suguru’s lapel to hold him closer. Suguru’s other hand slid down, gripping hard at the curve of Satoru's ass, pulling him flush against him. Satoru pushed two hands back on Suguru's chest half heartedly, turning his face away from the kisses he desperately wanted to continue. 

“Suguruuuu,” he whined. 

Suguru smirked, chest heaving, and threaded their fingers together, tugging him toward the door. He didn’t need to turn around to know Satoru was pouting, sulking in that way that made him impossibly endearing. Later, baby, he thought, later he’d give Satoru everything he wanted.. ..every single thing.

☀️************************************☀️☀️********************************☀️

Suguru stared at the blank page on his laptop, the blinking cursor a tiny, pulsing reminder of how far behind he was. He’d been at this for hours, three, maybe four, and the words still refused to come. The art assignments he could lose himself in; those felt like breathing. But the essay for history, the equations for the math course he’d been required to take? They felt like drowning.

Across the room, Satoru was sprawled on his bed, hair mussed from where he’d been running his hands through it absently while scrolling through something on his phone. His open physics textbook lay beside him, pages barely touched, more of a prop than a requirement to pass. He’d aced the midterm without studying. Suguru had seen the grade slip casually stuffed into his bag.

“You’ve been at that for a while,” Satoru said, glancing up. “Want me to take a look?”

Suguru’s jaw tightened before he could stop it. “It’s fine.”

Satoru set the phone down, sitting up. “I could help you with the math section, at least. Or we could go through your notes together..”

“I said it’s fine.” Suguru’s voice came out sharper than he intended, but he didn’t take it back.

“Okay. I was just offering,” Satoru said, throwing his hands up in the air in defeat.

Suguru closed the laptop a little too hard. “You don’t get it, Satoru. You never have to try. Things just… work out for you. You walk into a class, glance at the notes, and somehow you already know everything. I kill myself studying and still barely scrape by.”

The words hung between them, raw and heavier than Suguru meant them to be.

Satoru’s expression shifted, hurt flickering behind his usual calm. “So what, because I don’t struggle the same way you do, I can’t care? I can’t help?”

“That’s not what I..” Suguru broke off, running a hand through his hair. “I just… it’s different for you. You’ve always had everything,” he says with a scoff “You don’t know what it’s like to feel like you’re failing at the only thing you’re supposed to be doing right now.”

Satoru’s gaze softened, but there was still a stiffness in his shoulders. “You think I’ve never felt pressure? That it’s easy for me because I make it look easy?”

Suguru looked at him but didn’t answer.

Satoru exhaled slowly, the distance between them suddenly bigger than the small room they sat in. “I’m not your competition, Suguru. I’m on your side. You can hate how I do things, but don’t shut me out because of it.”

Suguru looked down at his hands, guilt beginning to creep in. He wanted to bridge the gap, but the knot in his chest made it hard to find the words.

Satoru didn’t say anything else. He just reached for his phone again, quieter this time, but his posture was different.

The room felt smaller than ever.

Hours passed in quiet companionship that lacked its usual comfort. The room was dark, now lit only by the dim glow of Suguru’s desk lamp. He hadn’t touched his laptop since shutting it earlier; it sat closed, his notes scattered, pen lying sideways across the desk. He could hear Satoru breathing in the quiet, steady and slow from his bed, but Suguru knew he wasn’t asleep.

“Satoru,” Suguru said softly.

 “Yeah?”

Suguru turned towards him in his chair, words sticking in his throat. “I didn’t mean to bite your head off earlier. I just… I get frustrated, and you’re the closest person to me. Sometimes that means you take the hit and it's not fair, I'm sorry.”

Satoru rolled onto his side so that he was facing him, his platinum hair falling into his face. “I know. I shouldn’t have taken it so personally.” He hesitated, and then sat up hugging his knees to his chest. It made him look small. “But… you’re wrong about one thing. It’s not easy for me. Not in the way you think.”

Suguru frowned. “What do you mean?”

Satoru rested his chin on his knees, the shadows softening the sharp lines of his face. “My dad’s been on me since the day I got here. Calls, emails, even a letter once. Not about my grades.. ..at least, not in physics. He doesn’t care about that. He wants me to change my major. Business. Economics. He says I’m wasting my time ‘playing scientist.’”

“You never told me that.”

“Didn’t want to dump it on you,” Satoru said with a small, humorless smile. “And… part of me thought maybe he was right. I’ve always done what he wanted. I was a daddy’s boy, remember?” he laughed bitterly, “My brother was smart to leave.. ..I think it's too late for me.”

Suguru thought about the empty mansion, about Senji’s quiet, assessing gaze when they’d met. “Don’t say that..”

Satoru’s eyes found his, something raw and unguarded in them. “I..  ..I don’t know how to say no to him without blowing my whole life up.”

Suguru crossed the space between them, sitting on the edge of his bed. “Then we’ll figure it out. You don’t have to figure it out all by yourself, we’re a team.”

Satoru looked at him for a long moment, the tightness in his expression easing. “You really mean that?”

“Of course I do,” Suguru said, and it was easy to mean it. “I don’t care if you’re a physicist, a business major, or… a professional poolside loafer in your fancy pool house. I just want you.”

That earned him a real smile, small, but real. Satoru leaned forward, resting his forehead against Suguru’s for a moment. The tension in the room shifted, replaced with something warmer, steadier, more familiar.

“Okay,” Satoru whispered. “Us, then.”

Suguru closed the distance between them, pressing their lips together and kissing him slowly, reassuring. A promise pressed against his mouth, a kiss that said I’m here, you’ve got me. You don’t have to worry about a thing. 

Satoru melted into it, his whole body relaxing as though every knot of tension had come undone with a single kiss. He shifted forward inch by inch until he had claimed his favorite spot in Suguru’s lap. 

“I love you,” Satoru whispered into their kiss, the words merely breaths against his lips. Suguru’s hands slid up and down his back in long, slow strokes, feeling every pulse and twitch of the skin beneath them. Every touch was deliberate and sensual, every kiss lingered like time no longer mattered. The universe had shrunk down to just the two of them, there was only the shared heat of their bodies, the soft sound of their breathing, the space where they touched.

Satoru rocked gently in his lap, his fingers tangled in Suguru’s dark hair, pulling just enough to keep him close but not to cause pain. Suguru pulled back just enough to look at him, breath heavy, voice low and reverent “I love you too,” and then he was kissing him again, deeper, while his hands slid down to grip tight to his waist.

With an ease born of years spent training and honing his body, Suguru lifted Satoru gently, laying him back down on the bed. Satoru's pale hair fanned out around him, a halo against the dark bedspread. So beautiful, so achingly perfect. 

Suguru’s hands drifted upward, slipping under the hem of Satoru’s shirt. His fingertips traced a teasing path up the firm lines of his stomach, gliding over his abs and circling lazily over one nipple. His touch was both teasing and reverent, feather light but aching. 

Satoru shivered, his chest rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths. His eyes fluttered closed, surrendering completely to Suguru’s endless worship. When he took his lips again, passion bled out into his mouth. The smooth glide of his tongue, the soft plush of his lips, the warmth engulfed Satoru entirely. 

Suguru bent over him, leaving a trail of soft kisses along his jaw and down his neck, each one slow and deliberate, devotional. Satoru trembled under the tenderness of his touch, his hands drifting across Suguru’s broad shoulders, down his back, in his hair, aimless hands without goal or purpose, only wanting to feel every part of this moment. 

Suguru left a trail of kisses down each side of his ribcage, and into the soft hollow of his stomach. He slid his fingers under the waistband of his pants, pulling them down and releasing Satoru’s painfully hard cock, red and throbbing with want. 

“So pretty baby,” Suguru said, voice low and reverent and Satoru shivered again at the praise. 

Suguru slid his tongue from the base up to the tip as his hands continued to tease Satoru's skin with feather light touches. Satoru whimpered at the contact, panting, eyes closed and head tipped back already lost in pleasure. Suguru circled his tongue around the tip, as light with his wet tongue as he had been with his fingers. Satoru’s cock twitched in response and Suguru repeated the action until Satoru was squirming beneath him as he tried to relinquish full control while also craving sweet release. 

Satoru’s breathing was coming hard and fast now, whines and moans escaping his lips, squirming away from the overstimulation as Suguru continued his gentle worship of his cock licking and swirling his tongue along the tip while his hands continued to explore the rest of Satoru's body. Touching him in a way he had never been touched before. As though he was a treasure, something rare, something precious.

When Suguru finally took his cockhead into his hot, wet, mouth, light exploded beneath Satoru’s eyelids as his orgasm rocked through his body and he came hard down Suguru’s throat. Suguru sucked him through it, savoring every drop of his release until Satoru was whimpering beneath him.

“Fuck,” Satoru said breathlessly.

Suguru released his cock with a soft plop and smiled up at him, “Feel good baby?”

Satoru just hummed in agreement, still coming down from an intense orgasm brought on almost entirely by Suguru’s fingertips brushing across his skin. 

“I think you just made my soul cum,” Satoru said lazily, reaching for his face to bring him closer for a kiss. 

Suguru chuckled and kissed him. Satoru reached down to stroke his still very hard erection, smiling into their kiss. 

“You still want to fuck me?” he asked.

“So much,” Suguru replied. 

“Please, Suguru,” Satoru pleaded, almost a whine. “I need it.”

“Okay baby, whatever you want.”

☀️**********************************☀️☀️***********************************☀️

The night was balmy, the kind of May evening made for hanging out outdoors. It was their last chance to hang out together before Suguru left for the summer and Satoru was working hard to make it special. Suguru’s grandparents had asked him to come back to the coast for the summer and he had, of course, agreed to go. Satoru had whined and pleaded and demanded to go with, knowing that he couldn’t as his father had set up an internship for him. And so it was that in two weeks Suguru would be leaving for two whole, long months. It would be the longest they had ever been apart since the day they met. If Satoru thought about it too long, he’d cry, so he didn’t… ..think about it. 

Tonight he didn’t have to, tonight was for them. Satoru’s backyard, if you could even call the sprawling, manicured grounds of his family’s estate a backyard, glowed under strings of fairy lights. An enormous projector screen loomed against the dark sky. Rows of beanbags, blankets, and pillows covered the lawn with an assortment of snacks stacked on low tables.

“Only you,” Sukuna grumbled as he flopped onto a beanbag, “would throw a mansion-level movie night and then make us watch Shrek.”

“Excuse you,” Satoru said loftily from where he sprawled across Suguru’s lap. “Shrek is art. Complex characters. Riveting dialogue. A romance that transcends barriers.” He peered up at Suguru, blue eyes sparkling. “Kinda like us, don’t you think?”

Suguru rolled his eyes, but his hand still found its way into Satoru’s platinum hair, carding through it lazily.

“Kill me now,” Sukuna muttered, already reaching for the popcorn.

“Don’t be dramatic,” Yuji said, settling cross-legged beside him. Identical in looks, and that's where the comparison ended. “You like Shrek. You used to quote it... ..Do you know the muffin man? ” he mocked with a high pitched voice.

“The muffin man?!” Satoru replied as though they had scripted it. 

“The muffin man!” Yuji replied and then doubled over in laughter. 

“Shut! Up!” Sukuna said, pushing his brother over roughly, who just landed safely into Megumi beside him.

Choso laughed from where he was tucked together on a blanket with Yuki.

“I mean Satoru is kinda right,” Choso piped up, “Shrek does have layers.”

Megumi, who sat tucked against Yuji’s side, grumbled, “I can’t believe I left my apartment for this.”

“You will love it,” Satoru shot back, waving at him with a handful of candy. “Don’t even try to pretend you’re not gonna laugh at Donkey.”

“That’ll do Satoru, that’ll do,” Suguru playfully said behind him. 

Satoru grinned up at him and pressed play.

Suguru leaned back on the blanket, watching his friends sprawled under the fairy lights, their laughter mixing with the movie’s absurd dialogue. He felt Satoru’s weight comfortably pressed against him, warm and familiar. It truly didn’t matter what they did, it was nice just being together.  

This school year had been a hard adjustment. He was expecting it, somewhat, but he still missed the freedom of high school. He missed being able to see his friends whenever he wanted without having to coordinate schedules and he missed the way he and Satoru used to be joined at the hip. They still were.. ..but it was different. They had to actively make time for each other now. God.. ..it was going to be a long summer without him. 

Satoru twisted suddenly, propping his chin on Suguru’s chest, grinning up at him. “You’re not even watching,” he accused.

“I am,” Suguru said, voice low.

“Liar. You’re staring at me.”

“Maybe you’re more entertaining.”

Satoru’s grin widened, smug and delighted. He leaned up, brushing a quick kiss against Suguru’s jaw.

“Get a room!” Sukuna hollered.

Suguru rolled his eyes, but Satoru only laughed, bright and unbothered, settling back against him. The movie rolled on, absurd and familiar, but for Suguru it barely mattered. The night was beautiful and he was thankful to Satoru for organizing it. Satoru pressed against his side like he belonged there, because he did, and Suguru tried to memorize the feeling. 

The movie came to an end and everyone stretched out of their blanket cocoons.  Sukuna sat up first, brushing popcorn off his hoodie.

“Well,” he announced, tone sharp but amused, “that was fun. What do you losers want to do now? Please tell me it’s not round two of swamp karaoke.”

Before anyone else could answer, Satoru sat up with a mischievous gleam in his eye, platinum hair wild from Suguru’s fingers. “Funny you should ask.”

Suguru narrowed his eyes instantly. “What did you do?”

Satoru clasped his hands together in mock innocence. “What makes you think I did anything?”

“You have that face,” Yuji muttered.

“What face?” Satoru demanded.

“The one where you’re about to show off something ridiculous and make us all question the existence of billionaires,” Choso said, deadpan.

Satoru’s grin was blinding. “Correct! Come on, everyone. Field trip.”

Groans and mutters followed as he herded them through the sprawling house, down a hallway most of them hadn’t bothered exploring before. He threw open a door with a dramatic flourish, and the lights flickered on to reveal…

“Holy shit,” Sukuna said flatly.

The room looked like a neon paradise: a private indoor trampoline park. The ceiling lights glowed in shifting colors. Floor to ceiling walls lined in fluorescent padding, a massive trampoline stretching across the center, basketball hoops for dunking, foam pits, and a climbing wall on the far side. 

“Welcome to my latest investment in joy,” Satoru announced, arms wide. “The Bounce Palace.”

“You named it?” Yuki asked, already fighting a smile.

“Of course I did. All great landmarks need names.”

“You’re insane,” Megumi said, but his eyes betrayed the faintest spark of interest.

Sukuna stared at the trampoline like he wanted to hate it but couldn’t. “…Okay, fine. That’s actually kind of sick.”

Satoru grinned in triumph, then immediately launched himself onto the trampoline, soaring up in a graceful arc before flipping clumsily and landing on his back. He burst into laughter, sprawled out on the surface. “Best idea I’ve ever had!”

Within minutes, the room descended into chaos. Sukuna and Yuji challenged each other to who could bounce higher, Choso tried to climb the wall only to fall dramatically into the foam pit with Yuki laughing at him, and even Megumi ended up playing 1 v 1 against Sukuna and dunking on him while Yuji cheered loudly bouncing from the sidelines.

Suguru hung back for a moment at the edge, arms crossed, watching it all unfold. Then Satoru bounced over, breathless, hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. He caught Suguru’s hand, tugging hard.

“Don’t just stand there, come play with me.”

Suguru said nothing and didn’t move an inch.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared,” Satoru said with a playful grin.

Suguru arched a brow. “Scared?”

“Uh-huh.” Satoru tugged harder, practically dragging him forward. “Bet you can’t even do one flip.”

Well that was a challenge and Suguru simply had no choice but to accept it. He bounced twice and then flipped backward, landing cleanly on his feet smirking like it was child's play. Satoru tackled him, throwing his arms around him as they tumbled down into the trampoline. 

The night dissolved into neon lights, and laughter, the kind of memory that would stick long after the spring semester faded. Long enough to last through the summer, something to hold on to even when they were miles apart. 

Chapter Text

College Sophomore Year

Suguru’s second year of college was in full swing and this week had been exhausting. Assignments were piling up and Suguru found himself too busy for anyone let alone the one person he wanted to spend time with. Currently, he was shuffling across the courtyard with his head down and shoulders hunched, rushing back to his campus apartment. If he went fast enough, he might catch a few hours of sleep before he absolutely had to start work on his essay for Poli Sci. He wasn’t planning to stop and talk to anyone, exhaustion sitting deep in his bones and walking with a single minded focus.. ..a nap. 

Lifting his face up for just a moment, he saw platinum hair glowing in the distance like sunlight peaking through the clouds. His Satoru, sitting on the stone benches near the library. His body held none of the same weariness and exhaustion that Suguru carried. He was beautiful, all sharp lines and delicate features, dressed casually but always looking like he stepped right out of a magazine ad. Like he should be on billboards plastered around the world's biggest cities instead of sitting outside a college campus library. 

There was someone sitting beside him, a guy he didn’t recognize, dark hair and eyes that pierced even from a distance. Satoru knew everyone so it was not unusual to see him with a stranger. Suguru kept his own circle relatively small, the same four or five people he had known since high school but Satoru had always been a social butterfly, easily flitting from one group to the next.  

Suguru watched as Satoru tipped his head back laughing at something the way only he can, a whole body laugh, inviting, intoxicating. It usually brought a smile to his face but something about the way the guy leaned in just a little too close, the way he focused so intently on his boyfriend, felt like stones in his chest. 

He slowed his pace, watching them.

Satoru had always been the type of person that commanded any space he was in, loud, energetic, hard to ignore and frustratingly magnetic. People just always wanted to be around him, that's the way it had always been. But there was something about this that Suguru just did not like. The stranger leaned in too close like he was telling Satoru a secret, and Satoru leaned in, comfortable, like nobody else existed but the two of them. 

It was too comfortable. Suguru felt like an outsider as he watched. He had been feeling like that a lot lately. Ever since he returned from his summer at the coast. It had been nice to be back in his hometown. He had missed the ocean, his grandparents' shop was as beautiful as always.. .. ..but being away from Satoru had felt like a piece of him had been cut off. Everything he did, every walk on the beach, every night under the stars was somehow less because Satoru was not there.

They kept in touch of course, Satoru texting him all throughout the day complaining about how boring his internship was and how he would rather be laying on the beach with Suguru. Phone calls and video chats to help fill the silences, but still.. ..It was a long two months. He was back now but he still felt like there was a wedge between them, a space where there never was before. 

As he got closer, still watching them interact, he thought about how sometimes Satoru felt like light slipping through his fingers, enough to settle on him for awhile, lending his warmth and then disappearing before he could hold on. When they had first met, he had been confused, puzzled as to why someone so bright would want someone like him, but Satoru had chosen him, again and again, making it clear that where Satoru wanted to be was right next to Suguru.

Still, Suguru hated the thought of anyone else taking his place. It was irrational, he knew, definitely a little stupid to still question his spot in Satoru’s life after all the time they had spent together. He just wished he had a way to let other people know -he’s taken. Back off!  He knew it was possessive, he didn’t own Satoru and couldn’t imagine being the thing that dimmed his light… ..but still he thought about marking him with something permanent, something that told others to stay away, that his light wasn’t for them. 

Satoru looked up and noticed him. The change in him was immediate and Suguru’s heart swelled. His entire face lit up like Suguru was the best thing he had ever seen, bright and stunning. Suguru loved him so much. 

“Suguru!”

The stranger also looked his way, giving him a small nod of acknowledgment and then turning his attention back to Satoru. He was well-dressed, shirt pressed and pristine, a long school branded cardigan hanging off his shoulders. Together they looked like the subjects of a J Crew photo shoot - ‘Hotties in College’ or some garbage headline. Suguru was their polar opposite with his ripped jeans, black hoodie, old faded band t-shirt and combat boots. Not to mention the new piercings that he got over the summer, silver and black adorning his ears.

Suguru stood next to them feeling out of place until Satoru stood and grabbed his hand to tug him closer to where they were sitting. His hand was warm and soft, grounding in its familiarity.

“This is Toji, he’s in my Advanced Calculus class and he’s awful at it. I’ve been helping him study in-between classes,” Satoru said with a grin, not caring at all that he had practically insulted the man.

“Hey now, I’m not that bad,” Toji replied with a short laugh. “And you’ve been doing more than helping.” Toji added with a smile meant only for Satoru. 

There was something in the way he said it that didn't sit right with Suguru. Satoru didn’t notice because he was leaning into Suguru looking at him adoringly, happy and surprised to see him when Suguru had told him he would be busy all day. But Suguru noticed the way Toji’s eyes lingered too long on his boyfriend, the way his smile fell when he no longer had Satoru’s attention. 

“Nice to meet you,” Suguru said, managing something neutral.

Toji smiled faintly and promptly ignored him like he wasn’t even there. Satoru sat back down next to Toji still holding Suguru’s hand and tugging him until he was standing over them a bit awkwardly as there was no space on the small bench for him to sit. 

Toji started rambling about some math concept Suguru couldn’t follow. Satoru listened and chimed in with corrections, laughing when he said something stupid and the light teasing that usually made Suguru so fond of his boyfriend dug under his skin in a way it never had before. 

After a while, Toji stood up from the bench, revealing that he was tall, about as tall as Suguru and slightly more built. He hid it well under the ugly school cardigan. 

“Well I better get outta here, got a lot more reading to do,” Toji said, “I’ll see you in class Satoru.”

“See you,” Satoru said with a polite smile and a cute little wave before tapping the seat beside him for Suguru to sit. 

Suguru sat down and Satoru leaned into him, resting his head on his shoulder, his hair tickling the bottom of Suguru’s chin. 

“I’ve missed you,” Satoru said.

Suguru hummed his agreement and they sat there for a few minutes in silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable, it just felt different. Again he felt that strange distance between them that was never there before. He should’ve never gone away for the summer. He hated the pit in his stomach, and wished it would go away. He just wanted things to feel normal again and he wasn’t quite sure why it felt different in the first place, it just did.

“You doing okay? “ Satoru asked after a bit. 

“I’m fine,” Suguru replied, sharper than he meant to.

Satoru looked at him for a moment, eyes shining bluer than the sky around them, waiting. When he didn’t elaborate, Satoru stood up and held his hand out for him. 

“I’m starved. Have you eaten?” he asked. 

“Nope,” Suguru replied, taking the offered hand and rising to his feet. 

“Great,” Satoru exclaimed happily, intertwining their fingers and leading him along the path away from campus. “Let's go eat.” 

They walked along quietly. Suguru was lost in thought remembering the way Toji’s gaze lingered, the way Satoru enjoyed talking with someone that could match his intellect. They were almost to the edge of the campus courtyard before Suguru spoke again. 

“You seem to get along pretty well with him,” he said, trying to keep his tone neutral. 

“Toji?” Satoru asked, confused.

“Yeah,” Suguru said and went quiet again. 

“Well sure,” Satoru said easily. “He’s smart. We have a couple classes together, he’s a biology major though. Makes class less boring when you have someone to talk to.”

Suguru kept his gaze ahead. “I don’t like him.”

Satoru stopped walking, caught off guard. “What? Why?”

Suguru stopped waking too and turned to look at him. He was so cute, jutting his lower lip out in an adorable pout.

“He clearly has a crush on you.”

Satoru chuckled, soft and fond. “No way, that’s ridiculous.”

“I’m serious.” Suguru said. “You don’t see the way people look at you.”

“I’m not blind Suguru,” Satoru said, amusement still curling at the edges of his voice. “I just don’t care ... .about any of them. They can look all they want.”

“Well I don't like it,” Suguru huffed.

The expression on Satoru’s face was a mixture between a pout and amusement. Suguru studied him for a moment, memorizing every pale line of skin, every flash of blue in his eyes. Otherworldly. That was the word for him. Like he belonged somewhere far beyond all of this, and somehow, Suguru had been the one thing keeping him tethered here.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Satoru said simply, like it was the most obvious truth in the world.

Suguru stepped in closer, hand sliding up to Satoru’s wrist, the steady beat of his pulse thudding against his palm. His other hand wrapped around his waist pulling him close. 

“Good, because you’re mine,” Suguru said, low, steady, certain.

“I’m yours,” Satoru confirmed in a whisper, closing the distance between them and pressing his lips hard against Suguru. In that kiss was all the moments they missed lately, all the space between them, the longing for each other that always seemed to exist just below the surface. In that kiss too was peace, it was home.

🌟*************************************************************************🌟

It was a few days later and close to midnight in the campus library. Satoru sat across from him at a small table with a pile of books and empty coffee cups resting between them. Satoru was playing some game on his phone while Suguru tried to focus on the essay he was writing. It wasn’t working. They talked instead, Satoru putting his phone down to give him his full attention. 

They hadn’t been able to spend much time together lately, only small moments between their busy schedules, and it had been weighing on Suguru. His first year of college was so much easier compared to his second. Classes were more difficult and more demanding of his time. Since he was there on scholarship he felt even more pressure to do well academically. 

Satoru seemed to breeze through like he did everything. Suguru envied him sometimes, what Suguru could do with just a half of his brainpower. Rule the world, start a cult probably.

Instead he struggled, through most things, it had always been like that for him. In high school it was just easier to blend in with all the rest of the kids in the same boat he was in, sailing to the same hopeless destination. 

It was nice that Satoru kept him company while he worked even though he had barely opened his own textbook. With how opposite their schedules were this year, he probably wouldn’t see him all week if he didn’t. 

They’d been holed up for a few hours ‘studying’ although it was mostly quiet conversation and enjoying being in each other's presence. It was comforting and easy, a familiarity built on years of sharing their lives. Being with Satoru was always like that, when they were together all the demands of college life just faded away. 

The ease and peace was broken when Satoru’s phone buzzed on the table between them.

Suguru didn’t mean to look, but he was curious who would be texting Satoru so late. Toji’s name lit up on the screen and below it, a short message that made the corner of Satoru’s mouth curl.

Mine, Suguru thought immediately. He watched as Satoru typed a quick reply and set his phone back down.

“You’re still talking to him?” The question was out before he could stop it.

Satoru glanced up, brows lifting. “Toji? Yeah, we’re friends, you know that. Why?”

Suguru looked down at his notes, though he hadn’t absorbed a single sentence in the past twenty minutes. “Just curious. It’s kinda late to be reaching out”

“This is the third time you’ve asked me about him.”

Suguru’s jaw flexed. “That’s because you’re always with him and I barely get to see you.” His own tone came out sharper than intended, but the thought was still there, on repeat in his mind: mine.

Satoru leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “It’s not like we’re doing anything fun, we’re studying. I told you I was helping him, our classes are difficult and he is having a hard time.”

Satoru softened his voice a little bit, “I’m sorry we haven’t been able to see each other much, it's hard when our schedules are so different and we don’t have any classes together this year…..but, he’s just a friend”

“Friends respect boundaries,” Suguru said, eyes lifting now. “He doesn’t. He looks at you like…” He stopped himself before he said something too sharp, something like he looks at you like he wants to fuck you, “.....like you're not in a relationship.”

For a long moment, Satoru just studied him, blue eyes bright in the library’s overhead lighting. Suguru watched the emotions flick across his beautiful face, confusion, anger, hurt.

“Is that what this is about? You really think I’d do that?” Satoru asked, voice soft and quiet.

Suguru didn’t answer. Couldn’t. The silence pressed in on him, and beneath it all, that stupid, relentless feeling of possession, mine, mine, mine.

“I’ve never given you a reason not to trust me.” Satoru said in that same quiet voice, “If you’re jealous, just admit it and we can deal with it. But don’t twist my friendships into something they’re not.”

“I’m not jealous,” Suguru lied, the words heavy and bitter. “I just..look at you, your beautiful..I know what people want when they look at you.”

“And you should know that doesn’t matter to me. I don’t care what they want. All I want is you,” Satoru said firmly.

Satoru glanced at the clock on the wall, then stacked his notes with precise, unhurried movements placing them all carefully in his bag. 

“It’s late and I’m tired. I can’t do this right now. I’m going to bed, I have a long day tomorrow,” he stood up and hooked his bag on his shoulder. “I’ll text you.”

Satoru didn’t kiss or hug him goodbye. He didn’t ask Suguru to walk him back to his apartment like usual either. Suguru watched him leave with a hollow feeling stretching like a black void through his chest. He had messed everything up and the room was dim now that he was gone.

Suguru sat in the library for a bit longer after Satoru left. He really didn’t handle that conversation very well. Satoru was, without an exception, the most important person in his life. He trusted him, he always had. Satoru always got a lot of attention.. ..from everyone. Even people 10 or 20 years older than them did a double take as he walked past. It was just a reality. A part of him had always hated it. He just wanted to keep him all to himself, away from people who thought they knew him, away from those that would try to charm their way into his life. It was selfish, but he couldn’t help it. 

Satoru was kind, when he wasn’t being obnoxious, he was thoughtful when he wasn’t teasing and he was wicked smart, good at everything he touched. Suguru loved every part of him. Not to mention, he was beautiful. The kind of beauty that was hard to even put into words, the kind that takes your breath away and makes you stop and stare. He was sunshine and light and warmth, and Suguru? He was darkness, a mind full of spiderwebs that only ever cleared when he was basking in that light. 

By the time he got back to his apartment, he was full of guilt and regret. He’d been an ass tonight. Picking at something that wasn’t there because his own head was spinning with doubt, clouded by fear. He couldn’t lose him. 

Satoru didn’t deserve to be treated that way. He had to make it up to him. He wanted to find a way to say sorry without using words because they always got stuck in his throat refusing to come out. 

Suguru sat on the edge of his bed, scrolling through photos of various gifts he could give him. Satoru was difficult to shop for, the thing was, he was ridiculously wealthy and if he wanted something he usually just got it, sometimes just on impulse. Finding something that would stand out, that would be special was challenging. He kept looking, searching for something that would say sorry and be a reminder of Suguru’s affection for him. 

🌟*******************************************************************🌟

It had been a couple days since the ‘kinda’ argument in the library and they had not seen each other. They had texted like usual, but were both too exhausted by the end of the day to make the trek across campus to each other's place. They hadn’t talked about the night in the library. After 3 days, Suguru couldn’t stand the distance anymore and invited Satoru over for dinner after classes. 

Suguru: Skip the study group, I really miss you.

That was all it took, Satoru agreed and three hours later, he was lounging on his couch, shirt half unbuttoned the way he always wore it, one leg dangling off the side while Suguru cleaned up the kitchen. 

Satoru cocked his head, smiling over at Suguru, “I’m glad you texted, I’ve missed you too.”

Suguru looked back at him and smiled then finished his chores before joining him on the couch, lifting his legs for a moment to sit beneath them. He pulled the small black box from his pocket. 

“Got something for you.”

Satoru sat up, smiling. When he opened the lid, the silver shined in the low light. A chain, silver with a small infinity symbol pendant gleaming with small stones and catching the light as it swung. 

“Oh it's perfect,” Satoru exclaimed, admiring it. “Whats the occasion, did I forget our anniversary or something? God I didn’t forget right? What day is it?”

Suguru laughed, “It's not our anniversary, I just…” he gave a small shrug and his voice softened “I wanted to apologize for being a jerk..about Toji. I’m sorry.”

“You weren’t a jerk. Just… territorial.”

Suguru’s mouth twitched. 

“Same thing.” 

He took the necklace from Satoru’s hand, leaning in closer. 

“Here. Let me.”

Satoru turned his head forward to give Suguru better access. The back of his neck was warm under Suguru’s fingers as he fastened the clasp, the chain settling against his skin like it had always been there. He placed a small kiss to the spot where the clasp met his skin earning a surprised gasp from Satoru who wasn’t expecting it.

Satoru faced him again, the pendant rested perfectly in the hollow of his throat, visible in the open V of his shirt.

“It suits you,” Suguru said, and he meant more than just the way it looked.

Satoru’s smile softened, the kind of quiet, private expression he didn’t give to anyone else. He reached up, fingers brushing the pendant. 

“I love it…so much…thank you” His gaze flicked to Suguru’s, blue eyes lit like fire. 

Satoru leaned forward, pressing his forehead to Suguru’s. 

“No one’s ever… given me something like this before. No one’s ever seen me…not like you.”

Suguru closed his eyes, letting that sink in. “I love you.” he replied finally. And God, did he mean it. 

Satoru closed the small distance between them, kissing him softly. It wasn’t enough. It had been days, and Suguru was hungry for him. He pulled Satoru into his lap with ease, and Satoru looped his arms around his neck, kissing him back soft and slow. Satoru’s lips are warm and soft and his hands reach up to remove the hair tie from Suguru’s hair, black silk cascading down his shoulders. 

Suguru wraps his hands firmly around Satoru’s waist, fingers digging into his skin as heat pools in his groin. Suguru licks into Satoru’s mouth, tongue brushing across the roof of his mouth, messy and sloppy and wet before withdrawing and biting down gently on Satoru’s bottom lip. Satoru rocks once, then again, sighing into their kiss and returning everything he is given, hands threaded through Suguru’s hair. Suguru breaks their kiss to glide his tongue across his jaw, sucking a pale earlobe between his teeth and biting down gently. Satoru whined and Suguru placed more kisses down his neck, leaving a wet trail of spit and blowing on it after, smiling as Satoru shivered on top of him.

Satoru rocks, seeking more friction, more touching, and Suguru’s mouth finds his again, hands wandering up Satoru’s shirt, his fingers tracing around each muscle, circling his nipple and pinching the soft skin until it hardens under his touch. Satoru pulls him in closer, kissing him again, harder and more desperate now, breaths heavy, panting and whining into each kiss. 

It's too much and not enough. Suguru hooked his hands under Satoru’s legs and lifted them both up from the couch, carrying them into his bedroom. He laid Satoru softly onto the bed, but Satoru kept his legs hooked around him forcing Suguru to kneel on the bed in between his legs. 

“I love when you do that,” Satoru tells him, voice low and breathless, “Carry me like I weigh nothing… ..it's so hot.”

Suguru smiles then leans down and kisses him again. He loves it too. Nothing makes him feel stronger than being able to lift his 6’3” boyfriend as though he were a sack of potatoes and not a fully grown man. 

There’s a desperation to Satoru's touches now, a promise in the touch - I’m yours and your mine. Satoru’s hands tug on his shirt, a silent request to take it off that Suguru answers without question. Satoru’s hands glide over the planes of his back, across the corded muscle, smooth and certain, mapping every line of his body while their mouths stay locked together. 

Suguru breaks the kiss long enough to take off Satoru’s shirt, trailing kisses across his neck and down his pale chest. Satoru’s skin is as beautiful as the rest of him, pale and clear of scar or blemish, and receptive to every touch. Every mark from Suguru’s fingers and mouth is a reminder, an echo of the persistent thought that has been running through his mind for weeks, mine, mine, mine. 

Suguru kisses his way down Satoru’s chest and stomach, leaving small red marks where their skin meets, until he’s nosing at the waistband of his pants, Satoru’s cock hard and straining against the fabric. Satoru’s panting, body painted with red strokes left behind from Suguru’s touches.  Satoru’s hands tangled in Suguru’s hair, clasping and unclasping with every movement of Suguru’s mouth against his skin. 

Satoru’s face flushed a pretty red, sweat pooling at his brow, as he squirms beneath Suguru’s touches. He was beautiful like this, undone and sacred. An angel from heaven brought down to earth, just for Suguru and nobody else. 

Suguru unbuttoned Satoru’s pants, helping him shimmy free from the clinging fabric. Satoru’s cock sprung free, hitting his exposed stomach and leaving a small trail of precum across the pale skin. Gorgeous. Suguru kissed against his milky thighs, licking and sucking and biting against his sensitive skin while Satoru continued to whine and squirm below him.

Suguru lifted up completely, stepping away from the bed for a minute and Satoru whined loud at the loss of contact, an adorable pout crossing his beautiful face. God, Suguru loved him so fucking much. He grabbed what he needed and removed his pants before reclaiming his spot on the bed between Satoru’s legs. 

Suguru placed a chaste kiss to his forehead and then one to each eyebrow, to his nose, then again to his mouth. Satoru sighed deeply when their lips met again, grinding his hips up into Suguru brushing their cocks against each other. Suguru groaned into their kiss and then licked and sucked his way back down Satoru’s chest, tongue circling gently over all the marks still showing bright and dark against Satoru’s pale skin. 

Suguru licked a stripe up his cock from bottom to the tip, swirling his tongue along the head. Satoru moaned at the contact he had been practically begging for, unable to stay still beneath him. Suguru took him fully into his mouth then, Satoru’s cock firm and solid against his tongue while his free hand messed with the bottle next to him, flicking the cap open and dripping lube down into his palm. 

The lube slid from his palm down to coat his fingers and he brought the digits down to prod around Satoru’s hole while bobbing up and down on his cock. Satoru was a whining, moaning mess under him already, thrusting up into his mouth when Suguru pushed one lubed finger inside. Suguru fucked into him with his finger while sucking him hard and deep, taking him to the hilt until his nose was buried in white pubes, flush against his skin. 

Suguru added another finger, spreading and curving them until his fingertips brushed along the small ball of nerves inside his boyfriend. Satoru moaned loud and filthy and his hips bucked up into Suguru’s mouth again, his cock forced deep down Suguru’s throat temporarily cutting off his air supply. Suguru didn’t pull away, hollowing his cheeks and keeping Satoru deep inside his throat. 

“Oh…. ..oh fuck…” Satoru manged between moans, “fuck…baby..I’m going to cum.”

Suguru hummed and Satoru’s cock twitched in his mouth. He popped off for a second, a stream of spit linking his lips to the tip of Satoru’s hard, wet and aching cock. He smiled up at him, his fingers still sliding in and out of him, brushing every so often against that ball of nerves. Satoru groaned at the sight of his smile, and Suguru dropped back down on him, taking his cock down deep into his throat again and rubbing repeatedly against his prostate. 

Satoru squirmed and whined until his whole body went still, then legs shaking and with a moan that came from somewhere deep inside him, he came deep down Suguru’s throat, warm and salty sweet coating his taste buds. Suguru swallowed every drop, sucking softly on his cockhead until he was fully spent.

Suguru kissed his way back up Satoru’s chest, soft and gentle while Satoru slowly came back online, in his post orgasm daze. Suguru smiled down at him.

“I love you.”

Satoru opened his eyes a little, eyes glazed and face flushed. His smile big and all teeth. “I love you too… …please fuck me.”

Suguru chuckled, “oh i was planning on it,” and then he was kissing him again, slow and languid, tongues sliding in each other's mouths, wet and sloppy, lips slick with spit. 

Suguru lubed up his cock and lined it up with Satoru’s still wet and pulsing hole then slowly thrust inside, Satoru gasping into their kiss and his hands wrapping around his neck again holding his face close, kissing him passionately as Suguru slowly inched inside his warm, tight entrance, his walls clenching around him.

Suguru broke apart, panting into their kiss, faces inches apart, Satoru licked up dragging his wet tongue across his lips. A silent ask, move baby. Suguru slid almost all the way out and then back in gently fucking into his boyfriend and bringing their lips to connect again. Two points of contact bonding them together, their kisses wet, and sloppy, interspersed with groans and moans as Suguru fucked into him slow and sensual. 

Satoru squirmed under him, shifting his hips down to meet his thrusts, “Harder,” he breathed out against their kiss. 

Suguru pulled out again slowly and then snapped his hips back in, Satoru moaning loudly, breaking their kiss and tipping his head back against the sheets. Suguru kept thrusting in and out, increasing momentum and intensity until Satoru was a sniveling, moaning mess underneath him. So fucking beautiful, with his pale skin flushed and slick with sweat, eyes glassy and pupils blown, lips kiss bitten red and slick with spit, platinum hair fanned out around him and stuck to his forehead. 

The sight alone made Suguru’s cock throb, pulsing against the tight walls as he pounded relentlessly against the ball of nerves inside his boyfriend. Satoru’s cock, full again, lay hard and thick between them, precum dripping steady from the tip making it glide against Suguru’s stomach with every thrust. 

Satoru’s back arched, pressing his hard cock against Suguru’s stomach and he knew his boyfriend was close. Suguru increased his intensity, placing one hand under the arch of his back holding him slightly elevated from the bed as he continued to fuck into him. 

Satoru’s legs shook, his hands curled into the sheets, head tipped back and with a deep moan he came hard, cum soaking both of their stomachs, hot and wet mixing with their sweat slicked skin. Suguru gave two more thrusts before he came inside his boyfriend, filling him with his load, breaths short and heavy.

Suguru stayed inside, kissing along Satoru’s neck and jaw until he was whining at the overstimulation forcing Suguru to pull out or deal with a bratty Satoru. Suguru got up and walked to the bathroom to get a towel, warming it under the water. When he came back to the room, Satoru was almost asleep, laying in the same position and eyes barely open enough to see him. The infinity necklace gleamed against his sweat slick skin, contrasting the marks of possession Suguru had painted across his pale skin. His cock soft now, and cum smeared across his stomach. Suguru stared for a moment too long, taking a mental picture to remember how perfect his boyfriend looked and then he kneeled back on the bed, gliding the rag softly across his smooth skin cleaning him up.

Satoru opened his eyes and smiled, “Hi,” he said softly then made grabby hands wanting Suguru to come cuddle. 

Suguru chuckled, “Hi baby,” he finished cleaning him and then himself, then threw the soiled rag in the hamper and crawled in next to Satoru. Satoru instantly curled up against him, hair damp against his flushed skin. Suguru wrapped one arm around him pulling him close and closed his eyes, exhaustion settling in his bones. Here in this moment, everything made sense, here with Satoru, this is where he was meant to be.

🌟************************************************************************🌟

After that night, it was several days before they were able to see each other again. They had both been making more of an effort to carve out time for each other but it wasn’t always easy. They were studying different disciplines, their faculty and advisors in different departments, and had classes in different buildings on campus. 

Sometimes Suguru wished they lived together and he wasn’t sure why they didn't. Living apart just created space and while Suguru knew he needed some space, some privacy, he wondered how different it would really be if they just moved into one place. It sounded.. ..nice. Maybe he could ask Satoru about it after this year when his lease was up for renewal again.

It was late afternoon four days later when Suguru was finally able to meet with Satoru in the campus café for a quick visit before his next set of classes. Satoru was leaning against the counter, waiting for their order, chatting with the barista, a tall guy with dark curls who was openly admiring the man in front of him and in no hurry to move on to the next customer.

Suguru had gone to grab napkins, but when he turned back, he caught the exact moment the guy’s eyes dipped, straight to the silver glint resting against the curve of Satoru’s collarbone.

“Nice piece, infinity huh” the barista said, voice low and almost conspiratorial. “Someone special give it to you?”

Satoru’s smile was easy. “Yeah, my forever.”

The guy’s answering grin was slower and heavier while he looked Satoru up and down. It was not subtle, it was challenging. 

“What a dream. Lucky them.”

Suguru was at Satoru’s side before the words had finished leaving his mouth. 

“I am lucky,” he said, flat enough that it wasn’t an invitation for conversation. His penetrating gaze didn’t break from the barista’s, not once.

The guy took one look at Suguru, audibly gulped, then busied himself with the order slips. 

Satoru glanced at Suguru as they moved to the pickup end of the counter, his expression somewhere between amused and exasperated. 

“You know, some people would just say thank you for the compliment.”

Suguru’s hand brushed deliberately against the pendant as he adjusted Satoru’s shirt collar.

“Some people should keep their eyes where they belong.”

Satoru’s lips curved in a way that made Suguru’s pulse trip. 

“Possessive, aren’t you?” 

Suguru didn’t deny it. When the drinks came, he led the way over to their table and they sat together on one side. Satoru took his drink and leaned in, voice low and only for Suguru. 

“It’s fine. I like it.”

Suguru reached a hand out to the shining pendant resting against Satoru’s collarbone, the cool silver warming slowly under his touch.

“You wear it every day?” 

Satoru locked his blue eyes on him, catching him like a bug under amber. 

“Of course…I love it.”

Suguru’s thumb brushed over the infinity symbol. 

“I thought maybe it was too much.”

Satoru shook his head, the faintest smile tugging at his mouth. “It’s perfect.”

He reached up, curling his fingers over Suguru’s where they held the pendant.

“You wanted me to have this because it says something. And I want to wear it because it says something too.”

Suguru swallowed, his chest tightening.

“What does it say?”

“That I’m yours.”

Satoru’s voice was steady, no hesitation.

“And you’re mine.”

Suguru leaned in, pressing his lips against Satoru’s. Satoru’s arms immediately wrapped around his neck, fingers tangling in his long hair, keeping him there as he deepened their kiss with no care for who may have seen them. The necklace chain pressed cool between them, a small, unshakable reminder of what it meant.

🌟**************************************************************************🌟

It was a Friday afternoon after another long week. Suguru had only seen Satoru a few times that week, usually at night when Satoru would come over to his apartment late at night and slip into bed beside him, touching him until he forgot about everything else that might be troubling him. 

Suguru was walking back from the bookstore when he spotted them, Satoru and Toji, outside the campus café. They were hunched over one of those small metal tables meant for two, condensation sliding down the sides of their drinks in the unusually warm fall air. The afternoon sunlight broke through the trees in fractured gold, catching Satoru's hair making him glow against the drab background of the brick building.

It looked like any friendly meet-up. Toji’s broad grin, Satoru’s usually teasing smirk. Suguru didn’t like the way Toji leaned in close, too deliberate, trying to be in Satoru’s space. His gaze lingered on Satoru for too long in between words, studying him, openly admiring, wanting. 

Satoru laughed, unrestrained and bright, the kind of sound that always found its way straight into Suguru’s chest and squeezed.

“Hey baby,” Suguru said softly to Satoru only as he joined them, pulling up a seat from a nearby table.

Satoru’s demeanor changed immediately, softer, warmer, and safe. He smiled brightly, leaning into him as he sat down. “We were just…” 

“Talking about you,” Toji interrupted, smooth as glass. He leaned back, posture loose, but there was a gleam in his eyes that didn’t match the easy tone. “Good things, of course.”

Suguru didn’t answer. He put an arm around Satoru pulling him close, kissing him on the top of his messy hair. Satoru’s hand found his thigh under the table, warm and steady, grounding him more than he wanted to admit.

Toji’s eyes never left Suguru’s, studying him, assessing him, calculating before flicking back over to Satoru and resuming that easy carefree look. 

“I was just telling him you’re lucky,” he said, “Not everyone gets to have so.. ..much of him.”

Satoru chuckled, giving Suguru a playful squeeze. “He’s my favorite.”

“I can see that,” Toji said, slowly, his eyes flicking to Suguru again. “Must be nice.”

The tension eased out of Suguru’s body the longer they sat there. Satoru was a calming and steady presence next to him as they moved on to safe topics, classes, group projects, and professors they couldn’t stand. The whole time they talked Toji only had eyes for Satoru, every time his eyes met Suguru’s they were filled with open disdain. 

Suguru stayed mostly quiet as they talked, thumb tracing slow circles over Satoru’s knuckles. He shouldn’t feel threatened. Satoru was his. He had made that clear over and over again throughout the years they’d known each other. Really, since the day they met at 15 years old in a high school cafeteria. Still, the lingering doubt settled in his chest, the worry, the fear. 

When they finally stood to leave, Toji gave a parting smile that was too clean to be entirely genuine. 

“See you around, Satoru.” A short pause. “Suguru.”

Once he was gone, they walked across the quad, the brittle crunch of leaves filling the quiet. Satoru’s shoulder brushed Suguru’s once, then again, like he was trying to nudge him out of whatever mood had settled in.

“You’re quiet today,” Satoru said.

“Am I?” Suguru’s voice was careful, even.

Satoru glanced at him sideways. “Mmm hmm, barely talked at all back there. I know you don’t like him but I think if you just gave him..”

“It’s not about him, just been a long day,” Suguru interrupted, wrapping his arm around Satoru and bringing him in close.

But it was..and it was so much more. What twisted in his chest and made his stomach churn wasn’t just the sight of Toji actively trying to make a move on his Satoru, it was the realization that Satoru was able to make time for other people like Toji, but not for him. He felt like he was losing his designated spot at his side and he wasn’t sure how to stop it from happening.

“Okay,” Satoru said, not wanting to pick or poke if Suguru said he was fine. “You still free tonight?”

Suguru kissed his temple, “Mhmmm, you’re coming over?..... ..before midnight?” he added with a wink. 

Satoru chuckled, “Yes, and I’m bringing dinner so be hungry.”

“Oh I’m always hungry for you,” Suguru said with a soft laugh. 

Satoru pushed at him gently and laughed, “Okay, I gotta go this way, but I’ll see you later.”

Suguru watched him go, light and bright and sunshine. He missed him already. 

Later that night, after dinner Suguru was laying on the couch, a mindless movie playing in the background that he was hardly paying attention to. Satoru immediately sprawled across him like Suguru was his very own body pillow, made perfectly just for him. Their bodies molded together on the couch like they always did. 

Satoru was telling him something that had happened earlier with Yuji and Megumi but he wasn’t really listening. He was watching him instead. The curve of his mouth when he smiled. The glimmer in his eyes as he talked about two people he loved. The faint imprint of the necklace, glinting when he moved.

He was watching him as though memorizing all the pieces of him, as though trying to bottle the feeling in case he wouldn’t be allowed to keep it. 

“I’ve missed you,” he said, interrupting Satoru’s monologue. 

Satoru’s eyes were soft and filled with affection when they met his, 

“I’ve missed you too.”

Suguru didn’t say anything more. He just tightened his arm around him holding him close as though he may disappear if he let go. For a while they just stayed like that, the movie forgotten, Satoru’s breathing evening out against him. Suguru traced idle patterns along his back, circles, lines, infinity, like each pass was a quiet promise that he wasn’t going anywhere.

And maybe Satoru didn’t notice the way Suguru’s grip never quite loosened. They way he touched him almost desperately when they moved to the bedroom,  or maybe he did, and just let him have it.

🌟************************************************************************🌟

It was Yuki’s idea to meet with a large group at the ramen shop off campus. They had all been stuck in their own worlds too long and hadn’t been able to meet up properly. The place was loud, steam curling up from the open kitchen and clinging to the windows. The air was thick with the scent of broth and soy sauce, the chatter of the dinner rush ricocheting off tile and glass.

They’d crammed around the largest table, from left to right around the circle, Yuki and Choso pressed together on one side, Megumi and Yuji squeezed in next to Choso. Sukuna and his girl of the week sat next to Yuji, smacking his brother on the back of the head as he sat. Suguru sat next to the new girl with Satoru by his side leaving two empty chairs that were filled a few moments later by Toji and a friend he had brought. Toji slid into the chair next to Satoru, adjusting his chair slightly so he was closer than he needed to be. The table was crowded, it looked natural, Suguru knew it wasn’t. 

The restaurant’s overhead lights caught on the thin silver chain around Satoru’s neck every time he moved, the infinity pendant resting against his collarbone where his shirt gaped open. Suguru had chosen it for that reason. To be discreet, but always visible in the way Satoru wore his shirts. A quiet sign that he was taken. Satoru was his. 

And Satoru looked so good tonight in his light orange silk shirt and black slacks that were always fitted to perfection. His clothes always flowed and fitted seamlessly as though the designer had him specifically in mind when they were crafted. He always looked amazing, effortlessly. The clothes were nice, expensive, but Satoru just woke up like that, Suguru knew first hand. 

Toji seemed to think he looked good too. He was all easy charm from the moment they sat, complimenting Satoru’s shirt and making him laugh so hard he tipped into Suguru for balance before leaning back upright again. Each time, that familiar sound of Satoru’s laughter curled through Suguru’s chest, pulling him in, only for Toji’s eyes to lock onto his, his lip curling, face filled with contempt.

It was subtle and quick. Easy to miss, just a flicker, a faint smirk that vanished the moment Satoru glanced his way. It was like Toji was speaking to him directly, and the tone of it was not pleasant. 

Yuki noticed the wordless exchange between them, her eyes darting between them, her mouth pressing into a thin line. She nudged Choso next to her, asking a silent question that he also didn't know the answer to. 

Suguru tried to focus on Satoru, the way the light haloed in his hair, the gleam of the pendant moving against his skin when he gestured through some ridiculous physics lab story. Toji laughed at all the right spots, making inside jokes nobody else understood, leaning in just enough, and Suguru felt that raw ugly feeling growing in his chest, raw and irrational filling his mind with dread, fear over losing something precious that he couldn’t get back. 

When the bowls arrived, Suguru was still watching. The steam rose between them, curling around Satoru’s face, softening the sharp line of his jaw. Satoru reached for a napkin, and in the same moment, Toji’s hand reached forward brushing against his fingers. Satoru chuckled something about personal space and then kept eating.

Halfway through the meal, Yuki had finally seen enough. Suguru hadn’t been engaged the whole night and he must have had storms in his eyes based on the look she was giving him. 

“So, Toji,” she said, her tone just light enough to pass as casual, “you and Satoru seem… close lately.”

“Yeah, we’ve been spending a lot of time together,” Toji said easily, but his gaze flicked to Suguru with that same knowing smirk on his stupid face. “Studying, hanging out, he’s really been helping me through a lot. Some kind of genius, this one.” he said, nudging Satoru playfully. “Guess, I’ve been stealing him away from you all huh?” he added with a pointed look at Suguru that nobody missed. 

Satoru shook his head, smiling like it was the most absurd thing he’d ever heard.

“You’re not stealing me from anyone.”

“Right,” Yuki agreed, “He is a genius, it's ridiculous really. We’re still trying to find something he sucks at, no luck in almost 6 years…” she laughed for a moment, “but you seem cool enough.” she said, giving her silent agreement at letting him join their pack.

“Suguru may kill you though, so risky” Sukuna added with a harsh laugh raising a eyebrow at Suguru across the table. 

Everyone laughed but there wasn’t much mirth in it, it was awkward. 

“I’ll keep my eye out,” Toji replied deadpan. He didn’t look worried, he looked satisfied.

Suguru didn’t add any commentary, he just focused on his noodles. Satoru found his hand under the table.  I’m here, I’m with you. But Suguru couldn’t help feeling like maybe he wasn’t enough to keep someone like Satoru. He kept thinking about how easily the conversation flowed between Satoru and Toji, the way he could keep up with all the jargon that usually went in one ear and out the other when Satoru went on a tangent. He thought about how easily Satoru laughed, how happy he looked, how good he looked next to Toji, someone clean cut like him, someone put together. 

When they left, splitting into smaller groups, Toji pulled Satoru into an unexpected hug that Satoru quickly released with a strained laugh but still made Suguru’s heart clench.

“See you Monday,” Toji said. Then, with a glance sharp enough to cut, “Take care of him..Suguru.”

Satoru missed the sneer in Toji’s voice, he was already laughing with Yuki and Choso as they walked ahead.

Suguru lingered behind, watching Toji’s retreating back until the crowd swallowed him. He ran to catch up, slipping his hand into Satoru’s without looking, their fingers interlacing the way they’d done a thousand times. Suguru held on tight, but the warmth didn’t push out the cold creeping into his chest.

Outside, the air was cool and damp, smelling faintly of rain. They lingered with the group for a few minutes before people started dispersing in different directions. Suguru unclasped their hands and Satoru stopped. 

“You’re not walking with us?”

Suguru shook his head. “Gotta make a detour on the way home, forget to grab something I need for tomorrow.”

Satoru moved closer, his scarf brushing Suguru’s chest. “Get it in the morning, come back home with me. It’s late.”

“Can't..won’t have time ... .next time okay?”

Satoru studied him for a long moment, then slid a hand into Suguru’s coat pocket to lace their fingers together. The touch was familiar, grounding. 

“Okay. But at least give me a proper goodbye.”

Suguru leaned down until their foreheads touched. “Don’t miss me too much.”

“Text me later” Satoru’s mouth curved against his before kissing him, soft and certain, like always. 

When they pulled apart, Suguru wanted that kiss to be enough. It wasn’t.

He watched Satoru rejoin Yuki and Choso, his figure bright against the glow of the street lights, he turned and waved one last time before disappearing around the corner. Suguru turned toward the empty street, the quiet pressing in heavier than usual.

He loved him. God, he loved him. But maybe love wasn’t the same as fitting together. Maybe Satoru needed someone who matched his spark without dimming it. Someone who didn’t carry darkness everywhere they went. Someone bold and bright like he was. Someone like Toji maybe. The thought sat heavy and cold, and for the first time since they’d met, Suguru wondered if maybe he wasn’t enough.

Chapter Text

College Sophomore Year  

It started small. A “can’t make it” text here, a “maybe next time” there. Suguru had always been the type to grumble about plans before showing up anyway,  but lately… he just didn’t show at all. Satoru couldn’t figure out what was so different. He knew his boyfriend had been struggling more this year but every time Satoru offered to help, Suguru just said no, that he could take care of it. Satoru tried, he tried so hard to bridge the gap. He tried to show Suguru that he loved him, little things to try to keep them connected, to show that he was still madly irrevocably in love with him. 

Satoru missed the way Suguru used to drop into the seat next to him without a word, placing a kiss on the top of his head or cheek. He missed his playful jabs and sarcastic replies in their group chat with their friends that was full of inside jokes and comraderie but now Suguru just stayed silent. He missed being together for more than a few minutes while they passed each other on the way to classes, or on the way home. He missed him with a longing that sat deep in his chest, a desire that he could never shake. 

He had just gotten home after another long day of classes and labs and study groups. He didn’t need study groups, he hosted them. Always giving more of himself than he ever got from others. He told himself it was because he was a good person with an altruistic heart, the truth was that he liked feeling needed. A shallow part of him liked the attention.

He stared at himself in the mirror in his room, at the necklace gleaming on his neck, the promise of forever and he wanted to believe that Suguru had meant it. Satoru tried to make more time for him, shifting around his schedule, dropping prior commitments when he could. He’d send texts that just sounded more desperate as the days went on. 

Satoru: Come over. I miss you

Satoru: I want to see you. Bring your books if you have to. I miss you

Satoru: I love you. 

When Suguru would show up, Satoru clung onto every touch they shared. Suguru gripping his waist, his mouth on his skin, his erection hard and throbbing against him, inside him. He wanted to believe it was enough. That he wasn’t slowly dying from the distance between them. When he moaned out his name and tears slid down his face he wondered for a moment if they were from pleasure or pain. 

Outside their small world, life didn’t wait for him to catch up. His parents called more often now. They dragged him to meetings with clients, networking events to build relationships with people he would work for.. ..no.. that would work for him someday. They pressed upon him the importance of the family name, that he was all they had left, that there were expectations and values to uphold. Respect to be earned. 

He was already stretched thin, trying to be the version of himself they wanted, the student his professors respected, and the boyfriend Suguru needed. But his free hours were disappearing, and his sense of self slipping away.

In the empty spaces that Suguru left around him, Toji was there. Toji had a way of showing up without an invitation. Catching up to him as he walked to class, sliding into a chair at the same table in the library and making jokes that enchanted everyone around. Satoru was tired and worn down from the constant weight everyone placed on him, he just didn’t seem to care much anymore. When Toji got closer, he didn’t push him away. It was easier to let Toji fill the silence than to stare blindly at the space where Suguru had always been. He missed him so much and he didn’t understand what had changed. 

Toji was present, but he didn’t notice when Satoru’s laugh was quieter than usual. He didn’t notice when his gaze kept flickering to the door, waiting for someone else to walk through it. He didn’t know the way Satoru’s chest hollowed out, crushed a bit more each day that passed without Suguru there at his side. Because he didn’t really know him, he only knew the carefully tailored version Satoru showed to everyone. Nobody had ever really known him, except Suguru. 

Satoru told himself that he’d find a way to pull Suguru back from whatever darkness he found himself in, just like he always had. That this distance that he didn’t understand was just stress, that they could overcome it, it wasn’t too late. They loved each other didn’t they?

🌟********************************************************************🌟

Satoru should have been on his way to his parents' estate. His father’s assistant had already texted twice to confirm his seat for the dinner that evening, a ‘networking opportunity’ with people he’d never met and would probably never see again. But when he caught sight of Suguru across the courtyard, leaning against the low stone wall outside the café, something in him snapped.

He didn’t even think before he was walking over to him. He had to see him, he needed him. He just had to make sure Suguru knew that.

Suguru was scrolling through his phone, a takeout cup balanced in his other hand. The late autumn sun was throwing golden light over him, catching in the ends of his hair, making the edges of him look soft. Beautiful. Satoru’s chest clenched, God, he’d missed him, even if they still saw each other. Something just hadn’t been the same. 

“Hey,” Satoru called, and his voice came out rougher than he intended.

Suguru looked up, surprise flickering over his face before it smoothed into something guarded. 

“Hey love. Thought you had somewhere to be.”

Love, Satoru’s heart thudded loudly in his chest.

“I do,” Satoru said, stopping in front of him. “But…I’ve really been missing you. Are you free right now?”

Suguru’s gaze searched his for a long moment. 

“You’re gonna be late.”

“Let me take you to lunch,” Satoru said, closing the distance between them until he was close enough to feel Suguru’s warmth, to smell the faint scent that was a mixture or cologne, and the various hair products he used.. ..it made his chest ache. 

“Just an hour. We can go to that noodle place you like. Or anywhere you want. My treat…please”

For a heartbeat, it felt like the world was still and Satoru braced himself for the No he had gotten used to hearing.

Suguru hesitated, glancing away from Satoru, then he gave the smallest shrug. 

“Okay, I have an hour.”

They walked side by side, and for the first time in weeks, it felt normal. Satoru’s arm was looped around his and conversation flowed between them without the weight it had been carrying lately. 

Still…Satoru kept glancing at him, admiring the slope of his smile, the way the light changed the violet in his eyes and glistened off his hair. Memorizing it, like it might be the last time he saw him this way.

Their pleasant conversation carried through lunch, and Satoru felt lighter than he had in weeks. Maybe he had just been panicking, maybe everything was fine. Maybe it really was just all the stress from school, and home that was causing this awful distance between them. 

When the hour was nearly up, Satoru’s phone buzzed on the table. His father’s name. He silenced it without looking.

Suguru noticed. “Don’t you need to..”

“I’m fine,” Satoru interrupted, and he meant it. The world could wait.

They lingered until Suguru finally stood, tugging on his jacket talking about his next class that he absolutely could not be late for. Satoru followed him out, pulling him in for a passionate kiss that he hoped said all the words he couldn't right now. As he walked to the train station, he thought, maybe everything would be okay, if he just tried hard enough, they could make it.  

🌟********************************************************************🌟

It was going to be a fun night. Or at least, that’s what Satoru kept telling himself when he sent the invite, anxious and wondering if Suguru would accept or say no like he had been doing more often lately. The last two weekends, Satoru had gone alone and he couldn’t help but notice the questioning glances, people wondering where his boyfriend was, or if maybe he didn’t have one anymore. People stood closer, they flirted more boldly, and Satoru hated it. 

It had been over two weeks since he had seen Suguru for more than five minutes at a time as they randomly passed each other on campus. The random lunch he took last week was the last time Satoru had felt Suguru's arms around him in the daylight. 

Satoru went to his house sometimes late at night, he’d stopped asking Suguru to come to him. Instead he just showed up and crawled into bed with him, in those moments everything felt normal. Tangled together under sheets they were unquestionably linked..and in the light of day…

Satoru still didn’t understand what was happening but he had seen Suguru withdraw before. He had seen him slip into dark places that nobody could reach. In the past he had always been the one that could break through and now…he felt like he couldn’t breathe when he thought about it. Had he done something wrong? Had he said something? Were they fighting and he just missed the memo? Was there someone else? They’d been together for years. Surely he would know if something was breaking, but he didn’t and it gnawed at him.

“Just a few friends,” Satoru had promised, nudging Suguru’s arm when they met outside the apartment building. He’d smiled like it was nothing, but his chest felt tight with hope. 

“Nothing wild. I just… miss having you there with me.”

Inside, the party was exactly what he’d promised, low music, warm lighting, a couple of candles on the coffee table throwing soft flickers across familiar faces. It should have felt easy and comfortable but instead Satoru was a ball of nerves as he went searching for a drink.

Suguru stayed near at first like he usually did, but Satoru was a natural drifter in a crowd and it was easy for him to slide into conversation with others before he even realized he’d left Suguru standing on the outside of it.

When the door opened and Toji walked in, Satoru barely noticed at first until the guy’s voice boomed across the room, whiskey bottle in hand, the center of his own gravity.

“The party has arrived!”

Of course he found Satoru first, he always found him. One moment he was engaging in conversation with a classmate and the next Toji was beside him, leaning in with some low remark that made Satoru laugh before he could even help it.

Toji’s hand landed low on his back, easy and casual, the way friends touched when they didn’t think twice. The other hand came up to brush Satoru’s cheek as he turned, saying something Satoru didn’t quite process. He was too close and his touch burned under his skin.

It didn’t mean anything. It didn’t. But across the room, Satoru caught a flicker of movement, and saw Suguru watching, eyes locked on them, expression unreadable and the knot in Satoru’s stomach tightened. 

When he turned back, Toji was still talking, but Satoru wasn’t listening anymore. He excused himself, slipping toward the kitchen, hoping Suguru might be there but he wasn’t. His heart sank as he went looking for him. He wouldn’t just leave right? Satoru knew Suguru didn’t like Toji, he knew that. He had tried to make him come around, forcing them into close proximity but something about Toji got under his boyfriend's skin. 

Satoru found him a few minutes later out on the porch, leaning against the railing and staring up at the few bright stars visible between rooftops. The cold was sharp enough to sting, cigarette smoke drifting from the red glow in Suguru’s fingers.

“Hey,” Satoru said quietly, letting the door close behind him. “I was looking for you. You alright?”

“I’m fine,” Suguru said too fast, gaze still locked on the sky, blowing smoke up into the air.

Satoru stepped closer, searching his face. “Suguru..”

“I get it,” Suguru cut in. Not sharp, just tired. “You don’t have to explain.”

Satoru froze, confusion flaring hot in his chest. Explain what? Before he could ask, Yuki’s voice carried from the doorway.

“Satoru, we need you for a sec!”

He hesitated, the pull between the two places almost physical. His hand found Suguru’s arm, fingers pressing in and then he let go, stepping back inside.

The warmth of the party swallowed him, but it felt wrong now. Too bright. Too loud. And even with Toji cracking jokes across the room, even with friends pulling him into conversation, Satoru’s mind stayed on the porch, on the way Suguru hadn’t looked at him when he left. Suguru never came back inside and when Satoru went to look for him again, he was gone.

Later that night once he got back to his apartment, Satoru lay in bed staring at the ceiling, the whine from the ceiling fan the only noise in the room. He held his phone in his hand, Suguru’s name staring back at him, wanting to type something… ‘Are you alright, you left without saying goodbye’ ‘Did I do something’ ‘Can we talk’ …anything to break the awful silence between them but every version sounded more pathetic than the last. He had never had to beg for Suguru’s attention before, but that's what it felt like now. 

He kept replaying the night in his head, the way Suguru’s eyes had flickered over him and Toji, the tired weight in his voice. Satoru wanted to demand an answer from him, to force him to look at him, to tell him what was wrong so they could fix it. 

But instead, he said nothing. He went back inside, and Suguru left..without saying goodbye. The distance wasn’t new anymore, it had been there for weeks, since Suguru had to go away for the summer, and Satoru had been stuck here, forced to do an internship and attend galas as his fathers shadow. Now the distance sat like an unspoken curse between them. Tonight felt like the first time since they met that Satoru couldn’t see a way forward. It scared him.

He locked his phone and tossed it aside, closing his eyes and vowing that tomorrow, he’d try again. He just didn’t know what ‘try’ looked like anymore. 

🌟********************************************************************🌟

Satoru walked with no real destination, letting the cool night air clear the restless churn in his head. He had cancelled the study session, not really wanting to be around people, not able to focus on his studies, or on anything at all really.

Up ahead, he spotted Suguru, head down, backpack slung carelessly over one shoulder coming back from a late class. Without thinking, Satoru quickened his steps, closing the space between them until their shoulders brushed.

He didn’t speak right away. Their footsteps made that steady, familiar rhythm they’d kept for years, and for a few minutes, he let himself pretend nothing had changed.

“You’ve been quiet lately,” Satoru said softly.

“I’m always quiet,” Suguru replied, eyes still fixed ahead.

“That’s not what I mean.”

They passed beneath a pool of light, and Satoru slowed until Suguru matched his pace. He studied his face in the glow, searching for some sign, something to explain the distance. Before Suguru could look away, Satoru looped a hand gently around his arm, tugging him close until their hips bumped.

“If something’s wrong,” he said softly, “I’d rather hear it from you than try to guess.”

Suguru’s expression didn’t change much.. ..he just seemed… tired.

“I’m just tired,” he said.

Satoru wanted to believe him. He wanted to take the answer as it was, even if it didn’t feel like the whole truth. So instead of pressing, he stepped in front of him, stopping them under the next streetlamp. His palm found Suguru’s jaw, thumb skimming his cheekbone.

Satoru leaned in, and their lips met, brief, warm and familiar. Not the kind of kiss that burned, but the kind that reminded him of all the days before this one. When he pulled back, he rested their foreheads together.

“You know I love you, right?” Satoru whispered into his skin.

“I know, I love you too.”

Something in Satoru loosened at that, enough for him to brush their lips together again, softer this time before threading their fingers. They stayed linked all the way back to Suguru’s building, the warmth of his hand a quiet reassurance.

On the steps, Satoru lingered, neither of them letting go. His smile was small, almost shy. 

“Can I come up for a bit?”

Suguru hesitated, then nodded.

Inside, the door clicked shut behind them. Satoru shrugged off his jacket, tossing it over a chair, and felt Suguru’s fingers find him again, automatic and instinctive. The rest was a blur of soft laughter, the shuffle of footsteps toward the bedroom, and the muted sound of the door closing behind them. Here at least, tangled together, everything made sense.

🌟********************************************************************🌟

Suguru lay in bed, unable to sleep. Satoru’s body was warm and pressed against him, his head resting against Suguru’s chest as he slept. Suguru held him close, his fingers tracing patterns into his skin, enveloped in his warmth, savoring it for as long as he could. He wanted to let it be enough, to let this, them together, be enough.

But the shadow of the party and of Toji’s hands on Satoru lingered stubbornly, refusing to fade. The weeks after the party felt heavier. Classes had hit their mid-semester stride, the workloads were brutal and the expectations intense. Suguru stayed up past 3AM on most nights at his computer until his eyes burned and begged to close. He’d wake up with a grogginess that even the strongest coffee couldn’t shake and just barely make it to his lectures. No matter how hard he tried, he was a step behind and he couldn’t catch up. He was drowning.

Satoru could see him struggling and tried to help. He’d show up in the mornings with coffee and a treat before he had to rush off to his own class. He’d slip notes into Suguru’s notebooks, silly sketches and words of encouragement and love. He’d check on him via text to make sure he’d eaten and offer to take him out if he hadn’t. Most of the time Suguru refused. Saying no had gotten easier. 

Suguru appreciated him, he really did. He smiled for the first time all day when he found those notes, he laughed at the silly ways Satoru would try to get him to respond, to fight back, to do anything. But inside, he couldn’t help but wonder if all the effort was worth it, if he was worth it.

But Toji had not gone anywhere, more present now than ever, gently accepted by their mutual friends, able to blend in. He was there in study groups casually leaning against the back of Satoru’s chair. He was there at functions that they always used to attend together. He was still ‘running into’ Satoru in between classes, taking up every ounce of free time he had. Still sending him late night memes or reminders for class that seemed like too much, too familiar and every time Satoru reached for his phone to type out a reply, his chest ached. 

Suguru tried to remind himself that it didn’t matter. Satoru had been clear about where he stood and who he wanted. At the end of the day he was crawling into bed with Suguru, not anyone else. The doubt remained though, what if Toji was just.. ..the better match for him. He was everything that Suguru wasn’t. A natural at filling awkward silences, smart, brilliant maybe like Satoru. Sometimes he could barely track the things they talked about. He seemed like the kind of person everyone wanted to be around and had integrated into their small circle of friends with ease. Once the comparisons started, he couldn’t stop. His mind spiraled, thinking, wondering, doubting and pushing the one person away that could fix it. 

🌟******************************************************************🌟

Another few days passed in relative silence. He’d refused Satoru’s invitation to accompany him to another party tonight. He felt bad about making him go alone but he couldn’t stand it. Jealousy was eating him alive. It made him feel out of control, like he might snap and do or say something that he would regret. As soon as he would start to feel level headed about it, he’d see something on campus that re-kindled the growing fire in his belly. He didn’t know how to stop it, all he could think about was letting go. So he wouldn’t have to feel it anymore, so he wouldn’t have to keep holding on to someone that seemed impossible to keep.

Satoru came by a little after 10pm. He came in without knocking as he usually did. Suguru always kept the door unlocked for him. Maybe it wasn’t exactly safe, but it was their rhythm, their habit, their way of carving space out for each other. A literal sign, the doors always open. 

He came in and sat on the edge of Suguru’s bed like he belonged there, he did.  Without a word, he beckoned Suguru over from where he was sitting hunched over textbooks strewn across his desk. Suguru complied until he was standing in the space between his knees. He couldn’t say no to Satoru, not when he was sitting there, looking like that. Beautiful, calm, eyes a little red from drinking probably, face a little flushed, but gorgeous still, and wanting. Wanting him. Satoru’s warm hands slid up under the edge of his hoodie, fingertips brushing his bare skin above his waistband.

“I missed you tonight,” Satoru whispered, looking up at him, eyes filled with desire. “Why didn’t you come?”

Suguru’s chest ached at the words, but instead of leaning in, he caught Satoru’s wrists gently and lowered his hands. 

“I’ve just been tired. Buried in classwork.”

Satoru tilted his head, looking at him, wondering, hoping. Then, with a soft sigh, he pulled him down for a kiss that was slow, sensual and usually unraveled Suguru completely.

Suguru kissed him back, but only for a heartbeat before pulling away. He tried to make it seem casual, stepping back toward his desk.

“I really should finish this draft before morning.”

Satoru pulled away, and the look on his face stabbed straight through him. Hurt, confused. Suguru had never refused him before. He’d always taken, always accepted anything Satoru could give. Satoru sighed again and in that sigh was disappointment, and hopelessness. He got up enough to crawl into Suguru’s bed, pulling the covers over himself.

Suguru wanted to turn off the light and lay beside him. He wanted to pull him close and feel his beating heart close to his own. But he couldn’t, because holding on to the distance was like armor and lately Suguru felt like everything was fragile.

Loving Satoru meant accepting that someday he would lose him. Because he was just too bright, too precious, too beautiful. And someday Satoru would see it for himself and see Suguru as he really was. Broken and missing parts, dark and hollow. He knew that losing him might just destroy what little strength he seemed to have left. The distance felt safe even if it was the opposite of what his heart was telling him to do. Even if it was slowly killing him, letting go first seemed easier.

When he fell asleep at his desk several hours later Satoru was still sleeping alone in his bed. When he woke up neck stiff from the awkward angle he was sleeping in, Satoru was gone. 

🌟********************************************************************🌟

Suguru could feel himself slipping but couldn’t stop it. Within days he felt like he was running on fumes. The nights faded into mornings without rest, his desk was littered with coffee cups and half eaten snacks. He skipped meals more than he remembered and he was starting to lose weight. 

His grades, once steady, started dipping. Nothing catastrophic yet, just small red marks, lower numbers than he was used to, but enough to remind him that he was going to fail if he didn’t get a handle on it.

Choso noticed first. He dropped into the seat beside him before a lecture, looking Suguru over with a frown. 

“You look like hell,” he said bluntly. “When’s the last time you slept more than four hours?”

Suguru waved him off. “I’m fine.”

Choso didn’t look convinced. Suguru could see the worry etched across his face and he wished he could give him something to take it away but he had nothing left. Before Choso could interrogate him further, the profession stepped in and class began.

Yuki caught him the next day in the cafeteria, nudging a plate toward him.

“Eat. And I don’t mean just the bread roll.” 

She didn’t force him to eat more when he only picked at it, but her eyes lingered, worried, and she started showing up more, sliding small snacks she knew he liked over to him with no words.

Even Sukuna, who usually kept his observations to himself, paused on the stairs when Suguru passed. 

“You okay?” he asked, tone careful.

“Yeah,” Suguru lied and kept walking. “Just busy.”

He couldn’t hide from Satoru. He started showing up more. Sometimes with food, sometimes with coffee, sometimes just to be there. He’d lean over Suguru’s desk, fingers brushing the back of his neck as he whispered, 

“You’ve been working too long. Take a break with me.”

Suguru would shake his head. “Can’t. Have a deadline.”

When that didn’t work, Satoru tried something else. He’d slip behind him while he worked, arms sliding around his waist, mouth pressing to the side of his neck.

“I miss you,” he’d whisper. “Let me stay tonight.”

And though Suguru’s chest would tighten, though his body would lean almost instinctively toward the warmth, he always found a way to keep him at arm’s length.

“Not tonight. I’ve got too much to do.”

The rejections weren’t sharp, but they were steady. And with each one, the air between them grew heavier. They still saw each other, but there was a weight now that hadn’t been there before, a tension that no amount of affection seemed to cut through.

It was harder than it had ever been just to stay together. And for the first time, Suguru wondered if it was too late to fix it, and if maybe he didn’t even want to anymore. 

🌟*******************************************************************🌟

Suguru had been avoiding the campus café lately. Too many familiar faces. Too much risk of accidentally running into Satoru, or worse, Satoru and Toji together.

Instead, he’d started frequenting a dim little coffee shop a few blocks off campus, the kind of place with soft amber lights and mismatched furniture. It was a quiet place and usually empty. He didn’t run into anyone here, he didn’t have any expectations here, nobody pressuring him to eat more, to take a break, to talk.. he could just be..whatever he wanted. 

That’s where he met Shoko.

The first time he saw her she was at a corner table, staring down at a sketchbook with a look on her face like it had wronged her. Her pen tapped absently at her lips. She glanced up when he passed, nodding and then returned to her work. She was pretty, short brown hair tucked behind one ear, warm brown eyes.

The second time he went to the cafe, she was there again. The third, too. After that, not saying something felt more awkward than breaking the silence.

“You’re here a lot,” she said one afternoon, smiling over the rim of her mug.

“I like the quiet,” he replied.

“Me too. Most people can’t stand it.”

By the next day they were sharing a table without ever talking about it. Sometimes they talked about art, music or the weather. Most of the time they didn’t talk at all. The only sounds, the clink of mugs and the scratch of pen on paper. 

It was… easy.

Easier than sitting with Satoru lately. Every moment between him and Satoru felt charged, electric, like one wrong move might shatter it. The silences were full of all the things that he was too afraid to say. All his worries and fears and self-hatred that he tried to hide from the one person that knew him best. Satoru’s love for him had always been infallible, untouchable, the one constant in his life, but now it seemed demanding. Demanded him to show up, to do better, to be better, to talk to him…it never ended. 

With Shoko, there were no questions. She didn’t comment on the shadows under his eyes, didn’t care when he pushed away half a pastry untouched. She didn’t mind that he skipped lectures, that his grades were slipping, that he’d stopped returning most texts.

With her, he wasn’t disappointing anyone.

And maybe that was the thing. Being with Satoru had always felt like being seen, like he couldn’t hide the parts of himself that were tired, ugly, or unsure. With Shoko, he could be whoever he felt like being that day, there were no expectations. 

He told himself it didn’t mean anything. That people grew apart all the time, and new connections formed without threatening old ones. This was just life, moving forward. He kept meeting her at the cafe.

Chapter Text

College Sophomore Year

Satoru had lived his whole life with confidence. He knew what he wanted, he knew how to get it. He knew how most people viewed him, attractive, unattainable, annoying, obnoxious. He accepted himself, liked himself most days. But everything happening lately with Suguru had him questioning more than he ever had before. Something he used to feel so confident about, him and Suguru together forever, was suddenly an unknown and he didn’t understand it. Did he do something wrong? What was it? Why won’t Suguru talk to him? Why is he pushing him away? Why won’t he touch him anymore? Is he not enough? Did he fall out of love?  

The more he tried to stay close to Suguru, the more he pulled away. Each rejection stung more than the last, each time it felt like a piece of him was dying, like limbs being severed from his body. He was anxious all the time, but he wore his mask well and people didn’t see it. Only those close would be able to and he hadn’t been able to see many of them lately.

He was sitting in the library with his head resting on the table when Yuji found him. He wanted to be there with Suguru but he got yet another ‘sorry too busy’ text in reply. He didn’t know why he kept asking. 

“Hey stranger,” Yuji said as a way of greeting. “Looking low, what's up? Is everything okay?”

“I think he’s done with me,” Satoru said quietly.

Yuji pulled a chair up beside him. “Suguru? No way. He adores you.”

Yuji was like a ray of sunshine. Sometimes when Satoru looked at him he couldn’t believe he was related to Sukuna let alone his twin. They were light and darkness, in looks and personality. 

“I’m serious…” Satoru said quietly, turning his head to look at him but not lifting it off the table, “He barely looks at me anymore…we don’t touch .. we haven’t… ...you know…in weeks”

Yuji leaned forward, his expression bright and adoring, “Satoru, you know how he gets when things are stressful…he’s always been like that.” he paused for a second to smile at him “I bet it’ll be better once this semester is over, some classes are rough.”

He laughed sheepishly, “I’d be drowning myself if it wasn’t for Megs, keeps me grounded.”

Satoru smiled for a second thinking of Yuji’s grumpy shadow, he loved them both. 

“Besides, he’d be crazy to let you go.” Yuji continued, “You guys have been stuck together since you met. It was crazy to watch really ... .and I mean, you’re literally perfect Satoru. If there’s a scale for ideal boyfriends, you’re at the top. Most people would kill for someone like you. He’d be crazy to throw it away.”

Satoru smiled faintly, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Thanks Yuji, it’s clear what Megumi sees in you.”

Yuji smiled shyly, "It's not like that, we’re just best friends.” 

It was definitely like that. Satoru couldn’t wait for the day it happened. 

“Trust me okay?” Yuji said firmly. “This isn’t about you. He’s been crazy about you since we were 15. Just give it some time okay?”

“Okay,” Satoru replied but he didn’t feel any better. 

🌟********************************************************************🌟

Later that week, he was walking across campus with Toji. It seemed to be happening more frequently lately. Wherever he was going, Toji was always going in the same direction. 

“You and Suguru okay?” Toji asked, a little too casually.

Satoru hesitated, not sure if he should answer. “I think so,” he said after a moment. 

Toji chuckled, low and knowing. “If you have to think about it, that’s not a great sign. You don’t sound very sure”

Satoru frowned. “He’s just stressed. We haven’t seen each other much lately”

“Sure,” Toji said, shrugging. 

“But stress has a way of showing you who people really are…and you..you deserve more than being someone's after thought” Toji said, glancing at him. “Not saying that’s the case here. Just… keep your head up. Don’t let it get you down.”

🌟*************************************************************************🌟

Later that night, Satoru lay in bed staring at the ceiling, watching the fan make patterns as it spun. He kept thinking about what Toji had said and wondered if it was true and he had just become an afterthought now. Maybe Suguru was done with him. Maybe he just wasn’t important to him anymore. Maybe he was the only one still holding on and Suguru had already moved on. The thought made him ache. He tried to think of his life before Suguru, what did he even do? What memories did he even have that weren’t tied together with him? He couldn’t stop the tears that flowed down his face. 

He wanted to believe Yuji’s words ‘he adores you’ ‘he'd be crazy to let you go’ ‘most people would kill for someone like you’. He tried to take them to heart, to believe them but inside everything just hurt. What had he done to lose the person he cared about the most? The only person that ever really saw him and didn’t expect him to be something perfect.

He took a long shower to try to calm down and after he got out he left the necklace sitting on the counter. It felt too heavy, a reminder of forever when he was holding nothing. It was too painful. When he finally fell asleep, he had cried himself dry. There was nothing left, just the hollow empty feeling inside him.

🌟************************************************************************🌟

The days felt longer now. Satoru felt like he was forcing himself through them. Breakfast, class, lunch, study group, home, shower, sleep, repeat. He didn’t make time for anyone. He hadn’t seen any of his friends. The only one that seemed to show up was Toji. He just always seemed to show up when Satoru was alone, and they were always heading in the same direction. Satoru would think he planned it, but sometimes life is just like that. It just falls into place, even when the pieces don’t fit. 

“How’s the dark mysterious boyfriend?” Toji asked as he caught up to him, his voice carrying that teasing edge he used with almost everyone.

Satoru sighed before responding. He wasn’t sure if he should answer but he had to talk to someone. Holding everything in was killing him

“Busy. Stressed. Don’t know. Haven’t seen him.”

Toji glanced sideways. “That’s rough. I told you before but you really do deserve better than being treated that way. You’re a really good guy. You’re worth more than to be thrown away because things get tough.”

“Thats not….” The words came fast, automatically defensive, and then he stopped himself. Maybe that is what was happening. His voice was softer when he added, “… he didn’t used to be like this. I don’t know what changed.”

“People change when they’re under pressure, their true nature comes out.” Toji shoved his hands into his pockets. 

“Sometimes they pull you closer. Sometimes…” Toji gave a little shrug. “They push away so far you can’t get them back.”

Satoru felt something pinch in his chest. “I don’t think we’re there.”

Toji smiled, warm and reassuring. 

“Hope not. I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you, Satoru. You’re one of the best. It would be a shame for someone to forget that.”

They reached Satoru’s building before he realized how much lighter he felt, like he’d been heard for the first time in weeks. Toji clapped him on the shoulder before heading off into the dark.

Satoru stood there for a long time, thinking about how easy that conversation had been… and how hard everything had become with Suguru.

🌟***********************************************************************🌟

A few days later, Satoru was in slightly better spirits. He had just had an amazing time with his study group, and he was still smiling as he left the cafe. Toji had been on fire telling jokes and bantering with everyone that had him laughing harder than he had in days. It felt good to hang out and have fun again.

Walking back to his apartment, he dug his phone out of his pocket and a new message from Suguru lit up the screen. His smile faded before he even opened it. 

Suguru: I think we should talk. I don’t know if I can do this anymore.

Satoru just stood in place staring at the glowing screen until his phone went dim. It was a mistake, it had to be. This was the kind of message you sent when you were actively fighting, not just out of the blue like this. It couldn’t be real. He felt like his whole world was spinning ‘I can’t do this anymore’ What does he mean? He can’t mean them, he can’t seriously be talking about breaking up. 

His chest felt like it was going to collapse in on itself. He tried calling but it went straight to voicemail. He tried again and it didn’t go through either. The world felt like it was closing in on him and he collapsed to the ground. Where was he? Outside? Back in his apartment? He couldn’t tell. Nothing felt real.  

What had he done? Why? Why would Suguru want to throw away all their years together? Was it the party? The long hours? How Toji kept showing up? They were just friends for fucks sake. He didn’t like Toji. He didn’t want anyone but Suguru, it had always been him. He’d tried so hard to be there for him and Suguru just kept pushing him back until he couldn't take the rejection anymore. God, had he found someone else? Satoru wasn’t enough? Maybe he never was. 

He kept trying to pinpoint the moment everything went wrong, when everything started to change. Had he met someone else over the summer when they were apart? His mind spun in circles and he couldn’t figure it out. Suguru had seemed so tired lately, so hard to reach, and he just kept building the wall between them until Satoru couldn’t even see over it. 

Had he missed it? Had he missed Suguru’s cry for help. Had he just been moving on with his life while the person he loved most was drowning, while his whole life was slipping away?

He sat down on a bench on campus somewhere, he was disoriented, it didn’t matter. He held his phone, thumb hovering over the keyboard. He wanted to write I love you. He wanted to write please don’t do this. 

Satoru: Can I come over? Please?

He hit send, knowing he might not get an answer. Then he sat there, waiting in a silence that felt louder than anything he’d ever heard.

Two days passed without a word. His last message left on Read. 

Satoru had gone from despair to worried to flat-out desperate. He couldn’t stand the silence anymore. How do you send a text like that and then just not respond? When he heard that Choso and Yuki hadn’t heard from him either, he had to do something. He wasn’t waiting anymore. 

When he got to Suguru’s apartment, by habit he tried the handle only to find it locked. He knocked, and there wasn’t an answer. He knocked again..and he waited. When it finally opened, Suguru stood there in an old sweatshirt Satoru recognized, it was his. Suguru’s hair was down and looked like it hadn’t been brushed in days, his eyes shadowed. Satoru couldn’t stand the look on his face, like he was already defeated.

“Hey,” Satoru said softly, trying for a smile. “Can I come in?”

Suguru hesitated for a moment, not looking at him, then stepped aside.

Inside, the room was musty. The curtains were drawn, the apartment lit by a single lamp on the side table by the couch. Satoru shut the door and leaned against it for a moment.

“You scared me,” he said softly. “Two days, Suguru. Not a word. You can’t just send a message like that and then disappear.”

“I’m fine,” Suguru muttered, barely audible under his breath, not even bothering to apologize for the rest of it. 

Satoru crossed the room in two strides, cupping the back of Suguru’s neck, letting his thumb brush the edge of his jaw. 

“No, you’re not fine. I know you better than that. Tell me what’s going on.”

Suguru’s gaze moved away, he took a step back creating space between them.

 “I think… we should break up.”

Satoru heard the words but he didn’t register them.

“What?” he finally said quietly. 

“I just can’t do this right now. It’s too much,” Suguru said, still not looking at him. 

“I don’t… ..understand.” Satoru said again in that same quiet voice.

“You don’t mean it. You can’t…you can’t mean it.” Satoru said, his voice breaking. 

Suguru’s voice was quiet, steady in the way it gets when he’s forcing himself to hold it together. 

“I mean it. This is what I want.”

“You…I don’t understand,” Satoru said in a broken voice, barely audible.

“What did I do?” Satoru said, not able to stop the tears now as they slid down his face. “You can’t be…you can’t..”

“It's not you,” Suguru said in that same distant tone, the kind he used with strangers, never with Satoru. 

“I’m sorry..whatever I did. I’m sorry. Please…I don’t understand,” Satoru pleaded, openly crying now and Suguru was still not looking at him. 

Satoru laughed weakly through his tears, “You can’t even look at me.”

They stood there in silence, the only sound Satoru’s quiet sobs as his whole life crumbled around him. 

“This is what I want,” Suguru repeated. 

“You're lying,” Satoru croaked out. 

Satoru took a step closer to him, until they could touch, but he didn’t reach out. 

“Look at me, Suguru.”

Suguru finally looked up to meet his eyes and it killed him. He looked tortured. It was like a man possessed as he reached one hand up to wipe the tears off Satoru’s cheek, his palm lingering on his face.  

Satoru stepped closer, closing the space between them until their foreheads almost touched. His voice dropped, warm and pleading. 

“You’re it for me, you understand?” he said “I’m not losing you over some bull… ..over nothing.”

Suguru’s breath caught, and he took a step back creating distance again.

 “It’s not nothing.”

Satoru let out a shaky laugh that had no humor in it. Traitorous tears still fell down his face. 

“Then we’ll take a break. I can give you space…more than I have already..” he said bitterly before adding with more confidence “but you don’t get to end things like this. Not without an explanation. If you can look me in the eye right now and tell me that you don’t want me anymore, that you don’t love me anymore, then I’ll go. Just say it, and I’ll go and I won’t look back.”

Suguru sighed from somewhere deep inside him. He reached his hand up to wipe Satoru’s tears again and his touch made him ache. 

“I can’t do that,” Suguru said softly, still wiping his tears away, staring into his eyes now. He sighed again, “Okay, a break.”  

“Okay,” Satoru agreed and they stood there for a few moments longer, just looking at each other. Then he pulled away, stepping back into the cold night, heartbroken and raw, leaving Suguru standing alone in his apartment. 

🌟**************************************************************************🌟

The next few days blurred together meaningless. Satoru did what was expected of him, but it felt like he was watching it from the outside. All he saw was grey, nothing mattered, everything seemed pointless. At the end of every day, he went back to his apartment and fell into a dreamland where everything made sense. He declined invites, he ignored messages. None of them were from the only person he wanted to talk to. 

He didn’t know how to be without Suguru. They’d been woven into each other’s lives since they were fifteen. First as friends, then as something more. Every memory worth holding seemed to have Suguru in it, stitched through like thread. What was he now, if not one half of Satoru and Suguru?

He kept checking his phone without meaning to. Hoping for a message, even just one word. One indication that Suguru had changed his mind. But the silence stretched on.

Toji noticed how different he seemed. He lingered after class, found excuses to sit next to him, sent him memes late at night, trying to pull him into that easy, familiar banter they’d been building. It should’ve felt good, but it didn’t. Every joke landed flat, every smile felt heavy in his mouth. It wasn’t that Toji was doing anything wrong. It was just that Satoru could see through it now, see the way it didn’t touch the part of him that mattered. 

At night, he lay in bed and stared at the ceiling, replaying their last conversation. The way Suguru wouldn’t meet his eyes. The whole world had gone grey. And Satoru didn’t know how to bring the color back without him.

🌟********************************************************************🌟

A week passed and nothing changed. Satoru felt hollow.  He was finishing his day preparing to go home and curl in bed and forget the ache in his heart. Toji caught up to him, putting his arm over his shoulder like they were best friends. The touch was both comforting and unwelcome. 

“Are you busy?” Toji asked. “I was gonna grab a quick bite before heading home.”

Satoru shook his head, the dark circles under his eyes deepened in the evening light.

“Nah. I’ve got… nothing, I guess,” he replied with a shrug effectively shrugging Toji off while agreeing to accompany him. 

They ended up in a booth by the window of the campus café. Satoru was quiet, picking at the sleeve of his sweater. He shouldn’t have come. He already wanted to be back home. 

Toji took a sip of his drink before leaning back. 

“So… ran into Suguru the other day.”

That got Satoru’s attention instantly, his head snapped up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Toji let the word hang for too long. “Not on campus, though. He was at this little café on 8th avenue. With someone.”

Satoru frowned. “Someone?”

“A girl. Short hair, cute. They looked pretty close, y’know, sharing a table, leaning in, laughing.” He shrugged like it was nothing. “Could’ve been a classmate or something, I guess. Just…I’ve never seen her before and they seemed really comfortable.”

Satoru tried for a neutral expression, but the muscle in his jaw twitched. 

“Did he see you?”

Toji shook his head. “Nah. Didn’t want to interrupt.” He paused, then added, carefully, “Hey, maybe it’s nothing. Just thought you should know.”

For the rest of the conversation, Satoru barely said a word. He just stared out the window.

By the time Toji left, the sky had gone dark. Satoru stayed in the booth for a while, his thoughts a mess in his head. 

Suguru with a girl, short hair, laughing. It shouldn’t have mattered, but the word girl opened up something raw inside him. He tried to picture what she might look like based on Toji’s description, but all he could see was Suguru leaning in, Suguru being open, smiling in a way that was always saved for him. He couldn’t stop forgetting about the last time he had seen Suguru, how awful it felt. Yet, here he was laughing and smiling with someone else. 

He still just didn’t understand. They’d been together for years. All the awkward fumbling, all the firsts, everything that Satoru always believed could last forever. But he had always kept, locked back in some corner of his mind, the knowledge that they had only ever dated each other. Suguru had never been with a girl. Maybe he had always wanted that instead and just settled for Satoru when it was convenient and now he had outgrown his usefulness. 

This girl was new, and sometimes that held some weight over holding on to old, broken things, but maybe it was more than that. Maybe she was something Suguru had never had, never tried, something he always wanted. Something Satoru could never be. Maybe those were the words that he couldn’t say. They’d never really talked about it, marriage, having kids, all the ways couples grew, all the things Satoru couldn’t give him. 

He told himself it was ridiculous. Suguru had chosen him. Stayed with him. Fought for him when things got hard. Got ridiculously jealous at the idea of Satoru looking at someone else. But the words looked comfortable and pretty close looped in his head, threaded through with something colder: maybe she makes more sense for him than I ever did.

He thought about the last time they’d been together intimately. How far away Suguru seemed even when he was right next to him. They hadn’t touched in weeks even before the ‘break’ How long has she been around?  The idea that Suguru could give his laughter, his warmth, to someone who might fit more neatly into the life everyone expected him to have…Satoru pressed the palm of his hands into his eyes, hard, until spots danced behind them.

By the time he finally stood and left the cafe, the streetlights were on, and the world outside felt colder than it had that morning. He shoved his hands into his pockets, walking fast, as if speed could outpace the thought that had started to gnaw at him:

Maybe Suguru wasn’t just halfway gone. Maybe he was halfway home..to somewhere Satoru could never follow.

🌟**********************************************************************🌟

Satoru hadn’t seen Suguru in over a week since they decided to take a ‘break’. Not properly, anyway. There’d been that one glimpse while walking to class, hood up, head down, moving too quickly for Satoru to do more than watch him pass, but they were on a break. He was supposed to give him space.

It was a gray Wednesday when he spotted him again. Satoru had been cutting through the side street by the art building, hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets, when he passed the little coffee shop he usually ignored. The windows were fogged from the warmth inside, the glass beaded with condensation, but he could still make out the shapes of people inside, hunched over steaming mugs.

And there he was.

Suguru sat tucked away in the far corner, shoulders relaxed, a mug cradled between his hands. Across from him sat a girl, petite, with cropped brown hair and a dark sweater that slouched carelessly off one shoulder. Pretty, not in the stop you dead way that Yuki was, but softer, cute. She had a sketchbook open, leaning toward him as she spoke.

He smiled. Not the strained, paper-thin curve of lips Satoru had gotten used to these past weeks. This one was real, warm, his eyes softening in that way Satoru used to think was just for him.

Satoru froze on the sidewalk, lingering far too long, watching through the glass like some kind of stalker. He felt ridiculous. He told himself it was good that Suguru was smiling again. That maybe he was finally pulling himself out of whatever dark place he’d been drowning in.

But the longer he stood there, the heavier the thought became. She was a girl…maybe that made it easier. She was a different kind of safe, someone who could fit neatly into the shape the world wanted.

The ache in his chest sharpened. He wanted to be the one across from him, like it had always been. He should’ve just let him go, he could’ve just accepted what Suguru wanted that night. A break. What a joke, a stupid tether to keep him somewhere he didn’t want to be. It was clear that what he wanted wasn't Satoru, not anymore. He turned away before Suguru could see him, wiping his eyes from the stupid tears that just kept falling. Would he ever stop crying about it? He didn’t know, he didn’t know anything anymore. The center of his universe had fallen away leaving him adrift. 

Chapter Text

College - Sophomore Year

Suguru leaned back in his chair, fingers curled loosely around the warmth of his mug. Shoko’s voice drifted in and out, easy and unhurried, as she told him about a professor who’d mistaken her for another student three separate times this week.

He smiled, not forced, not the strained stretch he’d given Satoru lately, but one that came naturally, slipping out before he could think too hard about it. With Shoko, everything was like that. No expectation to explain why he’d shown up looking like he hadn’t slept. No gentle questions that felt like prying. She let him be quiet if he wanted. She let the silences stay silent.

It was easy. Easier than it had been with Satoru for months now. And yet, even as he sat there, watching her flip a page in her sketchbook, a shadow tugged at the back of his mind.

Shoko was… different. Not just in the obvious way, but in the way she didn’t carry years of shared history. She hadn’t been there in high school when Satoru had stood beside him through the worst of it. She hadn’t been there for the first fumbling steps of them becoming them.

With her, there was no risk of that same sharp ache he felt when he looked at Satoru and remembered how close they’d once been. No pressure to give more than he had left to give. Maybe that was why it felt so comfortable.

But there was another thought, quieter and harder to pin down—one that made him feel vaguely guilty when it surfaced. Maybe it was also easier because she was a girl. Because being seen with her wouldn’t invite stares or questions. Because she fit into a version of his life he’d never have to defend.

Shoko laughed at something he said, warm and unguarded. Suguru smiled again, but this time it felt heavier. Because even here, with the ease she offered him, Satoru’s face flickered through his mind, the way his laugh used to pull something loose inside him, the way his hands had always known exactly where to rest, and the last time he saw him, sobbing, tears sliding from his impossibly blue eyes down his glorious face, and Suguru caused it. 

Suguru took another sip of coffee, as if the bitterness might drown the thought. But the truth clung stubbornly: He could sit in this café every day and pretend he was moving on, but part of him was still sitting across from Satoru, wondering when everything had gotten so hard. 

🌟**********************************************************************🌟

It was the last Friday before winter break, and the campus felt like it was already exhaling. Students streamed from final lectures toward bars, apartments, or the massive holiday party the drama club hosted every year.

Satoru hadn’t planned on going to the party. Lately, he hadn’t planned on much of anything. He'd been depressed for weeks, at least, it felt like depression. He didn’t really have a great frame of reference for it. Even he could admit life had been relatively easy for him. Yes, there was all the stuff with his family and his future and that really sucked, but big picture? He had it good and he knew it. 

But now, something inside just felt… ..broken. He didn’t want to go anywhere or do anything. He moved through his days like a shadow of himself. He went to school, did the bare minimum and went home. Once there he’d lay in bed and stare at the ceiling or cry until he couldn’t breathe or get angry and throw things, accidentally hitting one of his favorite mugs and shattering it across the kitchen tile.. ..he didn’t pick up the glass for days. Shattered glass on the floor. Shattered Satoru. It just didn’t matter. He didn’t matter. Nothing did. 

His birthday had been the final straw. It had been the first birthday he had spent without Suguru since high school. He shouldn’t have expected a text, a call, anything because they were on a ‘break’ and that meant space and distance.. .. .but he still hoped. It was like a knife to the heart when it never came. He ended up walking out of his own birthday dinner, the emptiness inside him spilling out into the room. Their ‘break’ had quietly hardened into something else.. …something permanent.

Yuji had been a constant presence at his side since, Megumi trailing along behind him like he was paid to be there but Satoru saw it, the affection he kept hidden, the care tucked away inside his silence. Yuji begged him to come to the party telling him that it would “be good for him, you can’t keep dwelling. You gotta live!” and then he’d soften and add, “besides I miss my friend.” and maybe he was right. 

Satoru stood in front of his closet for a long time, rows of clothes that once thrilled him, bright jackets, sleek shirts, tailored pants.. ..now looked like costumes for someone else. Every fabric felt like sandpaper against his skin. He used to love clothes. Where had that love gone? What happened to his joy? Who was this stranger that stared back at him in the mirror? Was his whole identity so bound to another’s that losing them meant losing himself? He didn’t know. He decided on something soft against his skin. If he was going crazy, at least he would be comfortable. 

🌟************************************************************************🌟

Across town, Suguru was finishing dinner with Shoko. They’d been doing that a lot lately, nights that started with her claiming she only had time to “study for an hour” and ended with them still in his kitchen past midnight.

Tonight, she’d kicked off her shoes the moment she walked in, padding barefoot over the tile, settling herself cross-legged on his couch like she’d lived there for years. He could hear her sketching while he chopped vegetables, the soft rasp of pencil on paper underscoring the sizzle from the pan.

She’d told him about the time she’d submitted the wrong portfolio for an art competition, embarrassed but laughing, and somehow her laughter was contagious, making him feel lighter than he had all day. 

When he brought her a plate, she smiled up at him like she’d been waiting for that moment all evening. Her fingers brushed his as she took it, barely a touch, but enough to make his skin feel suddenly too warm.

After they ate, she sprawled on her stomach across his couch, sketchbook open, her sweater sliding off one shoulder as she looked over at him. “You’d make a good subject,” she teased.

He rolled his eyes, but there was no real protest in him. She was fun. Easy to be around. Flirty in a way that wasn’t a performance, like it was meant only for him to catch. For most of the evening, he didn’t think about Satoru at all. That absence was almost a relief.

She’d invited him to the big campus holiday party, and though he’d said no at first, she convinced him with a simple, “Don’t make me go alone.” He told himself it was the only reason he was walking beside her now through the cold, his hands buried in his pockets, her laughter spilling out into the night air.

The moment they stepped inside, the noise and heat swallowed them.

Suguru’s gaze swept the crowd before he could stop himself. And there, near the bar… ..Satoru, tall, beautiful, ethereal, platinum hair shining under the dim string lights, ruby red cashmere sweater, oversized, soft as butter…Suguru knew it would be, blue eyes softened by whatever Toji was saying to him. Toji’s hand lingered at the small of Satoru’s back like it belonged there and for a moment Suguru couldn’t breathe. Yuji and Megumi stood across from them, a small circle of people that he used to belong to.. ..and now.. .. ..

Shoko followed his gaze, her smile dimming for just a second. Then she hooked her fingers through his sleeve, tugging him toward the crowd. “Come on, you’ve gotta meet my friend, she’s obsessed with your music taste.”

He let himself be pulled, though every step felt like a betrayal. His eyes still searched the crowd, still caught on a flash of silver hair, a familiar profile. He hated himself for it. He hated how automatic it was. He had asked for this ‘break’, and now he was what?.. ..sad about it? He didn’t know and he didn’t have much time to think about it.

She kept him busy, introducing him to people, pressing a drink into his hand, nudging him towards conversation with his friends, cracking jokes in his ear that made him laugh despite himself. For a second he could almost believe he belonged in that moment with her.

But then the moment would pass and his gaze would drift, drawn like a magnet across the room to where Satoru stood, haloed in light and laughter and everything that used to be his that he had thrown away.

Every time Shoko caught his attention wandering, his smile dropping, she found a way to pull him back. Touching his wrist when she spoke, leaning in so close her hair brushed his jaw, flashing him a grin like they were sharing a secret no one else in the room knew.

For a while, it worked. He smiled back at her, he laughed, he let himself loosen up, he forgot.. ..almost.. ..about his detached heart on the other side of the room. 

They were heading for the door when Suguru saw it, Toji leaning in toward Satoru, lips grazing close to his cheek. Whether it was a whisper or something more didn’t matter. It was too intimate, too much for his alcohol addled brain to properly process. He finished the image in his own mind without ever seeing it. 

He set his drink down without a second thought, abandoned on the nearest table, and crossed the space fast pulling Satoru back out of Toji’s grasp and positioning himself between them.  

“Back off,” Suguru said, low and sharp, voice vibrating with fury.

Toji straightened with a lazy smile. “Relax, We’re just talking.”

“You’ve been ‘just talking’ since the day you met him,” Suguru bit out. “You’re a snake, Toji. Fake. You may have everyone else fooled but not me. Stay away from him.”

Toji’s grin didn’t falter, but his eyes cooled. “Funny, coming from someone that threw him out like trash” his voice hissed on the last word.

Suguru stepped forward, close enough that his breath brushed Toji’s cheek. “Fuck you, you don’t know what your talking about.”

“Suguru, stop!”

Satoru’s voice cut in, sharp and bewildered.  His hand pressed flat against Suguru’s back. “Please.” 

Suguru’s control snapped. He shoved Toji hard, sending him stumbling into a pile of boxes, party decorations raining down around him. 

“Stay away from him,” Suguru spat, voice trembling with fury. Then he walked out without even a backward glance at Satoru. 

🌟************************************************************************🌟

Shoko caught up to Suguru just outside the party, jogging a few steps to match his long, quick strides.

“Hey! Suguru! Wait up!”

He slowed, but didn’t stop. His hands were jammed deep into the pockets of his dark jacket, shoulders slightly hunched as if the cold air were something to push through. 

“You don’t have to follow me,” he muttered without looking at her.

Shoko tilted her head, studying him. She’d been watching him for weeks now, watching the slow erosion of the man she’d first met. The way his tall frame seemed to fold in on itself when no one was paying attention. The way those striking violet eyes dulled, like the light inside had gone out. She’d noticed something else too, though she’d never dared say it: the way her own chest tightened around him, the constant urge to pull him back to the surface, to see him look at her the way he looked at Satoru.

“You think I’m just gonna let you stomp off into the night?” she said, trying for lightness. “Come on. Let’s walk.”

Suguru didn’t answer. His mind was replaying the scene inside the party like a bad loop, Toji’s hand resting at the base of Satoru’s spine like it belonged there. The way Satoru’s friends grinned as if they already knew how the story ended. Toji’s face leaning in. And worse, Satoru hadn’t shoved him away. He hadn’t looked upset, just surprised, like he wanted it and Suguru just interrupted. Fuck, they weren’t even together anymore, right. What even is a break?

The two of them walked in silence for a few blocks. The cold air stung in Suguru’s lungs, but it wasn’t enough to cut through the thick, restless ache under his ribs. Beside him, Shoko kept her steps even with his, close enough for their shoulders to almost brush, but not quite touching.

She didn’t need to know every detail to understand. She’d seen the thread of tension between him and Satoru long before tonight. She envied the way Suguru’s gaze found him without meaning to, the way his expression hardened when anyone else was too close. But what struck her most now was the emptiness in him. Just an hour ago, over dinner, he’d been smiling, laughing, soft in a way she suspected few people got to see. And now it was gone, shuttered behind that hard, silent mask.

She slipped her hands into her own pockets, resisting the urge to reach for him. 

“You don’t have to talk about it,” she said finally, voice quieter now. “But…if you want to..I’ll listen. I’m not going anywhere.”

Suguru glanced at her briefly, and there was something in his eyes for just a moment, and then it was gone. He looked ahead again and kept walking.

🌟*************************************************************************🌟

Inside the house, Satoru still stood at the edge of the room, platinum hair catching the light like frost. He was staring into his drink, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Toji had gone to get himself another drink after nursing his bruised pride, but the memory of his hand still lingered, hot and wrong, at the small of Satoru’s back. He rubbed the spot without thinking, wishing he could rewind the whole night.

Megumi walked over to him, hands shoved in his pockets, eyes flicking toward the door Suguru had disappeared through. 

“You okay? That was… wild. Haven’t seen him that worked up since senior year, remember? That fight at the basketball game?” He let out a low whistle, then he paused, “Thought you two weren’t even talking.”

Satoru didn’t answer, still staring at the rim of his glass, the condensation sliding down to pool in his fingers.

“We aren’t..I haven’t…I don’t know what that was. That was the first time we’ve been within talking distance in over a month.”

Megumi sighed, rubbing a hand over his face like he really didn’t want to be there having this conversation, but he leaned in anyway, softening his voice a little.

“Look… Suguru’s great. Always has been. Loyal as hell, stubborn as hell, too. But he’s… a lot, you know that better than anyone. You’ve seen him burn himself out trying to protect people who never asked for it and usually you’re on the receiving end of that.” He paused, letting that land. “If you’re making some choice here… Toji’s easier. He won’t flip the table when he thinks someone’s messing with you. But..” Megumi’s eyes softened, “he won’t fight for you like Suguru will, either ... .and ... .this is just my point of view but, it doesn't seem like you like him, Toji I mean..does Suguru know that?”

Satoru looked at him and a small smile curved his lips, “I think that’s the most you’ve ever said to me Megs”

Megumi scowled, “Shut up, don’t get used to it.”

He laughed and Megumi’s scowl deepened until Yuji swept in and wiped it off his face. It was a great reminder after weeks of solitude and despair to realize that he wasn’t all alone even if his heart ached for Suguru.

He couldn’t tell him of course, but Megumi was right. Toji was smooth, he was easier, but he wasn’t anything that Satoru wanted. Satoru had never been drawn to “easy.” He’d been drawn to violet eyes that burned when they looked at him, to the way Suguru’s voice went sharp when he cared too much to be polite, to the fierce, impossible loyalty that had wrapped around him like armor since they were kids. He just wanted to be with Suguru. He had always just wanted to be with him. There was nobody else, not for him. And if Suguru never came back…then so be it..crazy cat lady/Satoru, Catoru? it would be.

🌟************************************************************************🌟

Satoru was half-listening to Yuji and Megumi’s conversation as they crossed the quad, the winter air biting at his cheeks, when movement caught his eye.

Suguru and the girl, Shoko he was told, stepped out of the library together.

It wasn’t anything dramatic, no handholding, no embrace, just… closeness. The kind that couldn’t be faked. They moved in sync, like they’d been matching steps for years. Suguru carried both of their coffee cups in one hand, the other buried in his coat pocket. Shoko said something, and Suguru laughed.

Not the polite curve of lips he offered to strangers. Not the strained smile he wore when he was tired. This laugh lit his whole face, violet eyes crinkling, unguarded and bright enough to stop Satoru’s breath.

His own steps slowed.

It was harmless, he told himself. People made new friends. Friends could laugh together. But the sound hit him like a shard of ice under the ribs. That laugh used to be his. Weeks had passed since it had warmed the space between them. Weeks since the party. Weeks of silence. And now… what were they? Ex-boyfriends? Not even friends but just strangers wearing familiar faces? Or something worse, people who once knew each other so completely they’d become part of each other, and now didn’t know how to begin again.

Shoko bumped her shoulder against Suguru’s in some teasing gesture, and he didn’t pull away. He leaned into it, just enough to twist the knife in Satoru’s heart.

Satoru’s throat tightened. He told himself he had no right to feel this. Suguru was free to spend his time with whoever he wanted. Free to move on.. ..if that’s what he wanted.

But watching them pass under the warm halo of a streetlamp, their laughter fading into the night, the truth slammed into him with startling clarity: If Suguru was gone for good, he didn’t know if there’d be enough of himself left to put back together.

🌟***********************************************************************🌟

Satoru hadn’t meant to look for him. He’d told himself for days now that the best thing, the only thing, was to give Suguru space, let him work through whatever this strange, cold distance was. But after seeing him on campus with her, Shoko, laughing like they’d known each other forever, something inside him cracked.

He couldn't keep going on this way. This…whatever they were now.. was slowly eating away at his insides while Suguru seemed..happy. So he went looking for him. 

He found him in the library sitting at their usual table back in the corner with Choso and Yuki sitting opposite him. He was bent over a textbook, his long black hair slipping forward to hide his face. For a moment, he saw himself sitting next to him, just like how it used to be. His heart ached for him.

Suguru was so focused on what he was doing that he didn’t notice Satoru until he was right there. Choso gave him a nudge, murmuring something.

“Can we talk?” Satoru asked, his voice sharper than he meant.

Suguru’s shoulders tensed. “About what?”

“You know what. About this. About us. What the hell are we doing, Suguru?”

Suguru’s gaze flicked up, then away. “Satoru…”

Satoru slid into the chair opposite before he could be brushed off, forcing him to meet his eyes. Choso and Yuki exchanged a glance and quietly excused themselves, their departure leaving the air heavy between them.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to think anymore,” Satoru said, his throat tight.

“I told you I needed space,” Suguru said, the words deliberate, almost mechanical.

“And I gave it to you,” Satoru snapped, raw now. “For weeks. And then you blow up at a party… over me! ..and still don’t talk to me. What am I supposed to do with that?”

Suguru’s eyes flickered, the faintest shadow of hurt crossing them before it vanished again.

 “I can’t give you what you need anymore. You deserve someone who doesn’t make everything this hard,” he said quietly. “Someone who isn’t…” He trailed off.

“Isn’t what?”

“Someone who isn’t me. Someone like Toji.”

Satoru’s laugh came out thin and jagged, “Toji?..... You think I want Toji?”

“You seemed..”

“I don’t,” Satoru snapped, the words cracking under the weight in his chest. He leaned forward like getting closer might make Suguru hear him better, might make him understand. 

“I don’t want him. I’ve never wanted anyone else…but you!” He ran his fingers through his hair letting out a low groan of frustration. He was angry, this was all so stupid, “This whole time I’ve only wanted you and I tried…God I tried so hard to show you that. I. Don’t. Get. It.”

Satoru paused and took a deep breath, “I don’t understand why this is even happening. It seems more like you want to be with someone else and instead of being honest you're trying to twist it around on me.”

Suguru’s brow furrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I saw you,” Satoru said, his voice breaking without his permission. “With Shoko. Happy, laughing like you used to with me. Like nothing’s wrong. Like you didn’t just… rip my fucking heart out and stomp all over it..” He could barely get the next words out. “You leaned into her like she’s..like she’s…everything.”

Satoru’s breath hitched as he continued. “You haven’t looked at me like that in months, Suguru. Even before this stupid ‘break’, you kept pushing me away, wouldn’t even touch me..why..…” 

Suguru opened his mouth, but no words came, just a flicker in his eyes that made Satoru’s stomach drop.

“So that's it then?” Satoru pressed, panic bleeding through now, every word sharper because he could feel the edges of the end closing in. “Is it her? Did you already choose, and just forget to tell me? I thought I…I thought you loved me…” His voice wavered, choking on tears he refused to let fall. “…How could you just… ..you promised me forever..”

Silence.

Suguru’s gaze dropped to the table, and the space between them felt like an entire world.

And in that moment, it hit Satoru, like a film reel playing in his head. Every moment they shared together, every memory, sunlit rooftops, nights in the grotto, the lake, fireworks on his face, every kiss, every first, first love, first everything. Every secret, every part of him that he gave to Suguru to hold flashing in front of his mind and now just gone. Slipping through his fingers, all that love wasted. All that love with nowhere left to go but curl up inside him to rot. Something inside him broke, snapped like a broken bone. His hands curled into fists at his side.

“And still…you can’t even fucking look at me…I can’t believe you,” Satoru said, the words low and raw, like it hurt to speak. “… I’m done.”

The moment stretched. He almost hoped Suguru would stop him, reach for him, say something, say anything, just a piece of the truth. Suguru just sat there head down staring at nothing on the table.

Satoru stood, and for the first time since they were fifteen, he walked away from Suguru without looking back.

🌟*************************************************************************🌟

Suguru sat frozen at the table, still hearing the awful tone in Satoru’s voice, the pain, the anguish, the defeat. He wanted to run after him to tell him ‘please don’t go’ ‘I didn’t choose her’ ‘I’m scared, I don’t know how to get out of my own head.’ 

By the time the world came back into focus, the doorway was empty, Satoru was long gone. He felt hollow inside, like a piece of him had been torn out and he could never get it back. By the time he found the courage to look up, the doorway was empty.

He thought he might feel relieved to be done. Satoru can be happy again, find someone that can sit beside him, someone that didn’t dim his shine. They had never really fit together, darkness and light, depression and happiness, introvert and extrovert, serious and silly. They were opposites who had fallen into each other like it was meant to be. They had balanced each other, complimented each other, given the other what they couldn’t produce for themselves. When did that change? When did it break? When did he start feeling so unworthy of standing beside him? 

He tried to tell himself it was better this way, but he wasn’t really feeling anything at all. He was numb, mentally checked out. He was moving out the library door like someone else was piloting his body. A shell with no heart, a scarecrow with no brain. It was dark when he stepped outside, the cold shocking his system, bringing him back to some kind of reality. 

He looked around for Satoru as though expecting to find him there waiting as he had always done before. But it was empty, nobody was around. Just Suguru alone, like he had forced it to be. Satoru had truly walked away, he was done with him. He walked towards his apartment aimless and without purpose. Head down trying to shut out the world around him. All he could hear was Satoru’s broken voice ‘i thought you loved me’, and he did, he did love him, so much. It just didn’t seem like enough anymore. It wasn’t enough to chase away all the ugliness in his mind. Satoru’s light that had always been a guide back to the surface had been snuffed out and he was drowning.

“Hey, Suguru.”

The sound of Toji’s voice stopped him in his tracks before he even looked up.

He was leaning against a bench, casual as ever, hands buried in his jacket pockets, dark eyes sweeping over Suguru with the look of contempt that he seemed to reserve just for him.

“I saw Satoru bolt out of here not long ago,” Toji said, his voice easy, but the words sharp. “Crying.” He let that sink in before tilting his head. “You have something to do with that?”

Suguru adjusted the strap of his bag and kept moving. “Not now, Toji.”

But Toji didn’t fall away, he fell in step, his stride matching Suguru’s effortlessly.

“Must’ve been one hell of a conversation,” Toji continued relentlessly. “Did you do something to make him cry or does that just happen now anytime he’s near you”

Suguru's jaw clenched so tight it ached. “What do you want?”

Toji smirked, like the question was amusing. 

“Nothing. Just thought I’d check in. People keep asking me if Satoru and I are a thing. I tell them no, but…” he gave a mock-thoughtful shrug, “…at least I don’t make him cry.. ..he really is too pretty to cry don’t you think?”

Suguru stopped walking. His fists tightened in his coat pockets until the fabric pulled at the seams.

Toji stepped closer, lowering his voice. “You should be careful, Suguru. Guys like him, loyal, stupidly forgiving, naive,” he said it almost disdainfully “they don’t wait forever. You leave a space, someone else will fill it.” His smile was slow, deliberate. “Maybe I will, he’d look so good between my sheets”

Suguru knew he was trying to goad him, he knew he was still upset about the party. Toji’s words still hit deep and he almost lost control, almost shoved him back, almost claimed Satoru as his, and threatened him to stay away. He took a deep breath, he couldn’t. Satoru wasn’t, not anymore. 

Toji gave him one last knowing glance before walking away, he turned his head back, “You’re so weak.”

Suguru stood there breathing heavily watching him walk away. For a moment he was filled with rage, and just wanted to hit him until he was spitting blood on the pavement. And within a heartbeat all the fight drained out of him. Everything went numb again. It didn’t matter. It wouldn’t change anything. 

His apartment felt colder than the night air. Suguru didn’t turn on the lights. His bag slid off his shoulder and hit the floor with a dull thud, but he didn’t bother picking it up.

Toji’s voice clung to him like smoke, each word sharp enough to cut.
‘People keep asking me if Satoru and I are a thing.’ 

‘At least I don’t make him cry.’ 

‘He’d look so good in between my sheets.’ 

‘You’re so weak’

He sat on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, staring at the shadows on the floor until they blurred. He felt hollow. Maybe he’s right, he felt weak. He felt helpless to fight against anything, anyone, even himself. 

He hadn’t eaten since breakfast but his stomach knotted at the thought of food. He laid back on his bed trying to rest but his mind was racing. All he could see was Satoru, blue eyes wet from crying, his voice breaking as he tried to understand where his Suguru had gone. Suguru didn’t know either. He was lost in his own mind. 

He thought about texting. Explaining. Begging. He thought about erasing the number entirely, severing the cord before he could strangle himself with it. The same thoughts played in his head, and endless litany that he couldn’t escape. “It's over, he’s gone.” 

Hours slipped past without him noticing. The shadows in the room shifted, stretching long and deep until the darkness inside him was around him as well. Suguru reached for his phone without thinking. His fingers hovered over Satoru’s name, still pinned at the top of his messages, as if he’d never imagined a world where it wouldn’t be.

He typed without looking at the screen, the words pouring out faster than his thoughts:

I’m sorry. I don’t know why I keep doing this. I don’t know how to stop. Please…please forgive me.

He couldn’t send it. It would never be enough. He would never have enough words to fix the damage he had caused. He deleted the words and threw his phone across the room. It landed with an awful finality, broken, cracked, just like him. 

🌟***************************************************************************🌟

Satoru sat empty and drained on his bed. He had made himself tea to try to hold on to some semblance of normalcy but it sat cooling untouched on his side table. He’d left the library hours ago, unable to hide the tears that fell steady from his eyes. He wasn’t even sure how he made it home, he didn’t remember walking at all.  

He kept replaying the look on Suguru’s face, blank at first, like he was bracing for impact, and then… nothing. Not anger, not defensiveness. Just this quiet, hollow absence that made Satoru’s chest tighten.

It wasn’t just about Shoko. Or Toji. Or any of it, really. It was that Suguru had been gone for months now, slipping further and further away until Satoru could barely reach him at all. Even tonight, sitting across from him, it had felt like talking to someone behind glass.

He thought about how Suguru used to be, quick to laugh, eyes bright and restless, always saying too much instead of not enough. Now he seemed tired all the time, like the weight he carried was too heavy for anyone else to see.

Satoru pressed the palm of his hands to his eyes. It would be easier to be furious, to believe Suguru had simply chosen someone else. But beneath all the hurt was something worse, fear. Fear that Suguru wasn’t just pulling away from him, but from everything.

He reached for his phone more than once, the words Are you okay? blinking in his mind, but every time, he stopped.

Because what if he wasn’t? And what if there was nothing Satoru could do about it anymore?

Chapter Text

🌟**********************************************************************🌟

College Sophomore Year

By the end of the week, Suguru had all but vanished. Not officially, his name was still on class rosters, texts still went through as delivered, but the man himself was nowhere to be found.

Choso only found out Suguru and Satoru had broken up when a girl from their Econ class mentioned it in passing, making some comment about how Satoru was back on the market. He froze, coffee halfway to his mouth.

“What?”

The girl just shrugged, like it was old news and returned to her conversation.

He told Sukuna immediately, and the next day they were standing outside Suguru’s apartment door, trading uneasy glances.

Choso knocked first. “Suguru?” he paused. “It’s us.” Silence

Choso shifted his weight, listening. “I can hear his phone vibrating in there.”

Sukuna tried next, louder.

“We know you’re in there, man. Don’t be an idiot. Open the damn door.”

Nothing.

“You’re really gonna pull this again?” Sukuna’s voice had an edge, but it wavered just enough to betray him. “We’re not going away. You can either open up or listen to me yell until the neighbors call security.”

Choso spoke again, quieter. “We’re worried about you.” he paused then, “I’m worried about you.”

Back in high school, Suguru went through a long depressive episode, shutting out everyone that cared about him. It was understandable, he was choking in grief and loss after his father passed away unexpectedly. They had managed to break through, to get him to eat, to shower, to talk. It had been years since they had seen this side of him, they had thought they would never have to again. 

Sukuna leaned against the wall, exhaling through his nose. “If this is like last time…”

“It is,” Choso said quietly. “Feels exactly the same.”

They waited another ten minutes, talking through the door, throwing in small memories to lure him out, inside jokes, anything to get some response. They tried calling again, and could hear his phone but their friend stayed silent. 

When they finally left, Choso’s hands were buried deep in his pockets, his shoulders hunched against the cold. “We can’t just… leave him like this.”

Sukuna’s jaw tightened. “Then we don’t. We have to ask him to help Choso, you know we do.”

Choso sighed, “I know.”

🌟********************************************************************🌟

Suguru couldn’t remember the last time he opened the blinds. Morning and night blurred into the same gray hour where nothing seemed to move except the clock.

It wasn’t just Satoru. That was what he told himself, over and over. But Satoru had always been the constant, the person who sat with him through the worst nights, who could coax him out of the darkness in his mind just by showing up. Just his presence alone had always been enough and now, he was gone. Suguru had made sure of that.

College was supposed to be the new chapter, but all it felt like was a slow death. Every missed class was another failure crumbling his self worth. Every unanswered text from Choso or Sukuna was another thread cut. He couldn’t face them, couldn’t explain that it wasn’t about them, that it was about him, about how much space his darkness took up until there was no room for anyone else.

And then there was Shoko. He’d told himself it was harmless, that their coffees and quiet afternoons were just company. But deep down, he knew he’d been using her as a replacement for the closeness he’d lost, for the voice that used to tell him it was okay to breathe. She didn’t deserve that. None of them did.

The guilt pressed in like a second heartbeat. Guilt for shutting them out, guilt for not being enough when they stayed, guilt for ruining things when they tried to help. His chest felt heavy all the time now, as if it might crack from holding everything in.

He’d stopped checking his phone. It only made the silence louder.

And still, some part of him waited for a knock on the door, for Satoru’s voice cutting through the haze. But he knew, even if it came, he might not have the strength to get up from the couch anyway.

A knock came late in the afternoon, dull and persistent against the door. Suguru stayed on the couch, knees pulled to his chest, like he could shrink himself into not existing at all.

“Suguru?” Choso’s voice. Calm, low. The kind of tone that didn’t demand anything, just waited.

“It’s us,” he added after a pause.

Then came Sukuna, louder and sharper.

“We know you’re in there, man. Don’t be an idiot. Open the damn door.”

Suguru closed his eyes. He could picture them perfectly: Choso standing a little back, hands in his hoodie pocket, his gaze on the floor; Sukuna right up against the doorframe, leaning in like he could will it open through sheer force. It was the same picture from years ago, back in high school, when he’d shut himself in for days at a time.

“You’re really gonna pull this again?” Sukuna’s voice had an edge, but it wavered just enough to betray him. 

“We’re not going away. You can either open up or listen to me yell until the neighbors call security.”

Choso spoke again, quieter. “We’re worried about you…I’m worried about you.”

The words sank under Suguru’s ribs, warm and aching, but his body felt nailed to the couch. His mouth opened, but nothing came out. His throat felt raw, though he hadn’t said a word in hours.

After a while, the voices faded. Footsteps receded down the hall. The quiet that followed was worse than the knocking had been.

Suguru stared at the door until his vision blurred. He told himself he’d text them later, just so they knew he was okay. He would. He wouldn’t make them worry. Later. He would do it later.

🌟**********************************************************************🌟

Shoko had been trying to reach Suguru for days. He missed their usual lunch and hadn’t been answering any of her messages. She knew of his friends but hadn’t really met any of them. There was a first time for everything. She spotted Choso sitting alone in the student union, his laptop open in front of him. The beautiful blonde woman that usually accompanied him wasn’t there. Good. Less pressure.

“Hey,” Shoko said, sliding into the seat across from him. “You’ve talked to Suguru, right?” she asked without an introduction. 

Choso raised an eyebrow at her before asking, “And you are?”

“Shoko, his.. ..friend. Have you seen him?”

Choso’s fingers brushed across the keyboard. “No.” He hesitated for a moment unsure whether he should add more, “We tried.”

“Who’s we? Satoru?” Shoko asked, and Choso didn’t miss the disdain in her voice when she said his name. Interesting.

“Sukuna and I went over to his place a couple nights ago.” Choso’s voice was careful, measured. “He wouldn’t answer the door.”

Shoko frowned. “Well maybe he wasn’t home right?”

Choso’s jaw tightened. “We could hear his phone ringing inside. He’s there, just… not letting anyone in.”

“That’s not like him,” Shoko said without thinking.

Choso looked at her for a long moment, something guarded settling in his eyes. 

“You don’t know him like we do. Sometimes… It is like him.”

Shoko leaned forward. “What does that mean?”

Choso hesitated, like he was weighing whether to say anything. How close were they? What did she know? He had seen them around campus but..

“He’s done this before, back in high school. Shutting everyone out, not showing up. It was only because of Satoru that he..”

Shoko sat back, processing the half answer. “Satoru? Right!  Surely he has seen him.” 

“They broke up,” Choso said, almost accusing. Was she responsible, he wondered. “They haven’t spoken since.”

Shoko’s stomach tightened. “I..I didn’t know…when?”

“It’s not really your business,” Choso replied evenly. “If he wanted you to know he would tell you…I’ve said too much already.”

Shoko pushed her coffee away, the movement sharp. 

“Yeah, well, I don’t care what he wants right now. If he’s shutting down again, someone has to do something before it goes too far.”

“Shoko..don’t..” Choso started, but Shoko was already grabbing her bag.

By the time she reached the quad, her pulse was pounding. She spotted him, Satoru, by the bike racks, leaning against the railing while talking to someone she didn’t know. She didn’t wait.

“Satoru!”

He turned, his expression tightening when he saw her. “Shoko?”

She stopped a few feet away, still catching her breath. 

“It’s Suguru. I think he’s in a bad place.” Her eyes locked on his. “And I need you to tell me what the hell happened between you two.”

Satoru’s expression shuttered in an instant. He barked out a short laugh. 

“Right. Why would I tell you anything? Why don’t you just go help him yourself since you’re so close.” 

“Because he’s not answering me. He’s not answering anyone,” Shoko shot back almost embarrased. “Choso says he’s done this before and you..”

“That’s between him and me,” Satoru cut in, his tone sharp enough to sting. “I don’t even know you.”

Shoko took a step closer, undeterred. “You don’t have to know me and you don’t have to like me. I’m telling you, he’s not okay. If you care about him at all..”

Satoru’s jaw flexed. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” she said, challenging him. He towered over her small frame but she wouldn’t be intimidated. 

“Don’t stand here acting like you get to measure how much I cared.” His voice was low, tight. “You didn’t see the years that we stood together.” He huffed out another small mocking laugh. “You’ve probably never even met the real Suguru.”

Shoko’s mouth opened, then closed again. He was right. She had only seen Suguru in fragments. No matter how close she tried to get, there was always something guarded, something hidden below the surface that she couldn’t reach. 

“Then help me,” she said finally, her voice dropping. “I know you don’t like me but this isn’t about me. He needs help. If you really, if you ever loved him then you’ll help me make sure he’s okay.”

For a moment, Satoru just stared at her, the weight of her words hanging between them. Then he shook his head, shouldering his bag.

“It doesn’t matter how much I love him. Love doesn’t matter if he doesn’t want you there,” he said, and walked away, leaving Shoko standing in the cold with more questions than answers.

🌟*******************************************************************🌟

Satoru left Shoko standing in the quad, the words she’d thrown at him still lodged under his skin like splinters. The nerve. Acting like she knew anything about him, about Suguru. Like she’d been there, like she’d seen it. She hadn’t been around for the long nights, the stupid inside jokes that stretched back years, the quiet way Suguru’s hand would find his in the dark. She was just some new face who’d walked into their lives after everything had already started cracking.

She didn’t know what it was to lose him. Not the way Satoru did.

But anger only held for so long before something heavier began to pull at him. Because he remembered. He remembered last time. How Suguru had disappeared from everyone… ..phone off, curtains drawn, slipping so far inside himself it had been like trying to talk to someone underwater. How it had taken weeks just to get him to leave the house. How Satoru had been the one sitting across from him at that first café table, watching him pick at a muffin without touching it. How every small smile had felt like pulling sunlight into a storm.

And now… if Shoko was right, if Choso and Sukuna had already tried and failed, then Suguru was back in that place again. Alone. Untouchable. And this time, Satoru wasn’t the one at his side. This time, he was the one who’d walked away.

The thought made his chest tighten, a slow, twisting ache. He tried telling himself it wasn’t his problem anymore. They’d ended it. Clean break. But that was a lie, and he knew it. Even after everything, part of him still felt like it was his job to pull Suguru back into the light.

Satoru had been pacing his room for the better part of an hour, thoughts spiraling. He kept checking his phone. No new messages. No missed calls. Not from Suguru, not from anyone.

Every few steps, he’d stop and stare at the door like he could will himself to grab his keys and go. Just walk over there. Just knock until Suguru answered. But then the other voice came, sharp and rational, reminding him they weren’t together anymore, reminding him that Suguru had been the one to let him walk away without a word. Suguru didn’t want him anymore. 

The memory of Suguru’s last stretch in that dark place played over in his mind like a film reel, long silences, glassy eyes, the kind of exhaustion that went beyond the physical. Back then, it had been Satoru sitting cross-legged on Suguru’s bedroom floor, coaxing him into conversation with dumb stories and bad impressions, taking him out for late-night snacks just to prove the world was still there, still moving. Back then, he’d been needed.

Now, he wasn’t sure if showing up would help or only make it worse. Suguru didn’t want to see him. He had made that very clear.

The knock on Satoru’s door came sharp and fast, no hesitation. He almost didn’t answer, wasn’t in the mood for whoever it was, but the rhythm was familiar. Persistent.

When he opened the door, Choso stood there, hands shoved deep into his coat pockets, with Sukuna looming just behind him, arms crossed like a bouncer.

“You look like hell,” Sukuna said by way of greeting, stepping past him into the apartment without waiting for an invite. Choso followed, giving Satoru a faint, apologetic shrug.

“I’m fine,” Satoru muttered, closing the door.

“No, you’re not,” Sukuna shot back, already scanning the room like he expected to find Suguru hiding in a corner. “And neither is he.”

Satoru’s chest tightened. “You’ve been by?”

“Twice,” Choso said, his voice quieter but no less steady. “He won’t open the door. We hear him in there, but… he’s not letting anyone in.”

Sukuna turned to him, blunt as ever. “And you’re just sitting here?”

That stung. “We broke up,” Satoru snapped. “He doesn’t want me there.”

Sukuna’s laugh was short and humorless. “Yeah, because that’s the Suguru way. Push everyone away until there’s no one left to see him fall apart. You’ve seen it before, hell, you’ve seen it worse than we have.”

Choso’s gaze was steady, almost too steady. “We know what you mean to him, Satoru. You have always been different, something none of us could compare to…even now.. ..if you just...”

Satoru looked away, jaw tight. He hated that they were right. Hated more that a part of him wanted to run straight to Suguru’s door, no matter how badly their last conversation had ended.

Sukuna’s voice softened just enough to cut deeper. “You’re the only one who’s ever been able to pull him back. You know it. We know it. So either you go, or…” He let the rest hang in the air.

The room was quiet except for the faint hum of the heater kicking on. Satoru’s pulse was a steady drum in his ears.

He thought of Suguru alone in that apartment, thought of the years they’d spent orbiting each other before finally colliding, thought of the way it had felt when it was good, when it had been everything.

When he finally met Choso’s eyes again, he didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. He just grabbed his keys and left them behind in his apartment.

The cold bit at Satoru’s ears as he left his building, Choso and Sukuna’s words still pounding in his head. His pace was already quick, each step heavier with the memory of Suguru’s silences and how they had once stretched on for weeks, swallowing him whole.

He was halfway across the quad when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, thumb brushing the screen,

Suguru: I love you. I’m sorry.

Satoru stopped dead in the middle of the path, breath fogging in the air. His stomach dropped. For a beat, his brain refused to process it, wanting to pretend it was just… something harmless. But the weight of those words was unmistakable. He knew what they meant.

“No, no, no…” His voice was low, urgent, as his thumb hit the call button.

One ring. Two. Three. Voicemail. He tried again. And again. Still nothing.

The tightness in his chest turned to a burn, adrenaline surging hot in his veins. He didn’t even realize he was running until the world blurred at the edges, the crunch of snow under his shoes loud in his ears.

“Pick up, Suguru..Please... Pick up,” he muttered, calling again, praying for anything, a groggy hello, an annoyed sigh, something.

With each unanswered call, his mind raced further into places he didn’t want to go. He remembered the last time, the drawn curtains, the mess of untouched meals, the quiet that felt like the whole world holding its breath.

By the time his building came into view, Satoru’s heart was hammering so hard it hurt. He took the stairs two at a time, barely noticing the burn in his legs, fingers gripping his phone like it was a lifeline.

If he was too late.. ..He couldn’t even finish the thought.

He tried the handle. Locked. He knocked once. Twice. Harder the third time.

“Suguru!”

Nothing.

The panic clawed its way up his throat, choking him. He backed up a step and threw his shoulder into the door. It rattled but held. Again. Still nothing. The sound of his own pulse roared in his ears as he braced his foot against the frame and kicked hard, once, twice, three times until the wood splintered and the lock gave with a sharp crack. The door swung inward.

The first thing that hit him was the smell, sharp and sour, alcohol hanging thick in the air.  It wrapped around him, suffocating.

The lights were off, the room dim except for a glow coming from a light on in the hallway.

“Suguru?” His voice was unsteady, caught between a whisper and a plea.

He stepped inside, each footfall heavier than the last, dread thick in his chest. Then his eyes found him, slumped against the base of the couch like he had started falling over and didn’t fall properly. His head was tilted at an unnatural angle, eyes closed, face pale.

For a moment, the world tilted, narrowed to the awful stillness in that shape on the floor.

“Suguru…”

A half-empty whiskey bottle lay tipped on its side, its contents bleeding into the carpet. Nearby, an amber pill bottle had rolled away, the cap lying several feet from it like it had been tossed aside.

His stomach dropped into ice.

“Suguru!”

He didn’t even feel his knees hit the floor. His hands were already on him, gripping his shoulders, shaking him hard enough to rattle bone. No response. His skin was white, cold and clammy under Satoru’s touch.

“No, no, no..come on..please” He fumbled for a pulse, fingers pressed desperately against his neck. Slow. Weak..

A sob tore from his throat, raw and unfiltered. He didn’t stop to think, just grabbed his phone, hands shaking so badly he almost dropped it. He barely registered the dispatcher’s voice, words spilling out of him in a frantic rush, address, what happened, please hurry.

He tossed the phone aside and pulled Suguru into his arms, cradling him against his chest.

“I’ve got you,” Satoru whispered, rocking him without even realizing it, voice breaking on every word. “Stay with me, please…don’t you leave me. Not like this. Fuck…please...”

His grip tightened, his cheek pressed to the crown of Suguru’s head, the smell of alcohol and shampoo mingling in a way that made his heart ache. The sirens in the distance felt impossibly far away.

All he could do was hold on. The sirens grew louder, finally cutting through the pounding in Satoru’s head.

The door burst open wider as heavy boots pounded down the hallway, two paramedics, moving fast, their voices clipped and efficient as they surveyed the room. Satoru barely heard them; he couldn’t bring himself to let go, gripping Suguru tight to his chest and yelling at anyone who got too close until one of the men with kind brown eyes gently pried his fingers away telling him they were there to help. Help, yes he needed help. Please help.

They worked quickly, checking vitals, lifting Suguru onto a stretcher. Satoru stood, numb, feeling like his body was moving on autopilot.

He didn’t even notice Choso and Sukuna until they were there, filling the doorway.

Choso froze first, eyes locking on the scene, his face going pale. His lips parted like he wanted to speak, but no sound came out. His hands tightened around the strap of his bag until his knuckles whitened.

Sukuna, always the loud one, was silent too. His usual restless energy collapsed in on itself, his shoulders caving in as he took a step inside. His gaze fell to the spilled pills, the whiskey stain in the carpet, then to Suguru’s still form on the stretcher.

“Oh, god…” Sukuna’s voice cracked, and he scrubbed a hand over his face like he could wipe the image from his mind.

Choso’s eyes flicked to Satoru, red-rimmed, jaw clenched like he was holding back a thousand words. The silence between them was heavy, thick with history they didn’t have to explain.

Because they all remembered the last time. The long months of walking on eggshells. The way Suguru’s laughter had vanished overnight, replaced with a hollow shell of someone they didn’t recognize. They had all hoped he had left that darkness behind. 

Satoru swallowed hard, but his voice was low, rough when he spoke. “He texted me…. Right after I left the apartment….. Said he loved me…..  he was sorry.”

Sukuna swore under his breath, turning away.

Choso didn’t move. “Then you got here just in time.”

Satoru wanted to believe that. He really did. But the weight in his chest told him the truth, just in time was still far too close.

As the paramedics wheeled Suguru out, Satoru followed, Choso and Sukuna trailing behind in stunned silence. None of them spoke, because they all knew this wasn’t over.

This was just the beginning of pulling him back into the light.

Chapter Text

 College - Sophomore Year

The hospital lights were too bright, bleaching everything into that sterile, unreal white that made it hard to breathe. Satoru sat hunched in the hard plastic chair beside Suguru’s bed, head down on the edge of the mattress, fingers locked tightly with Suguru’s. The monitor kept time in slow, steady beeps. Proof that Suguru was still here. Still breathing.

Satoru had been there all night, exhaustion stealing time until he woke up to the sun spilling through the blinds, disoriented, face smushed into the bedspread. As he slowly regained awareness, the events of last night played on a loop in his mind. It still felt unreal, his only tether the steady pulse thrumming through their connected palms. Suguru would wake up, he had to. He had to. He had to.

Choso and Sukuna arrived early but stayed out of the way standing against the far wall, their silence heavy in the corners of the room. Sukuna’s knee bounced in restless agitation, jaw working like he had a hundred things to say and not one of them would help. Choso stayed still, his gaze fixed on Suguru’s face, unreadable but weighted.

No one spoke. There was nothing to say that wouldn’t feel too small for this moment. Satoru watched the sun spill over Suguru’s hair, reflecting light off the inky surface. Even though it was messy and tangled it was still beautiful. Suguru looked so peaceful like this, all the harsh lines and furrows of his face smoothed out, lovely and soft. For a while he got lost just staring at him, and then reality came crashing back in when hurried footsteps broke the stillness.

Shoko appeared in the doorway, eyes flicking to the monitors, to the IV line, to Suguru’s pale and unmoving face. Her breath hitched.

“What happened?” she demanded, stepping in. “Is he..”

Satoru was on his feet before she could finish, instinct putting him between her and the bed. “Why are you here?” His voice was hoarse from disuse, frayed at the edges. 

“I came to see if he’s okay,” she replied, voice sharper than she intended. “No one would tell me anything.”

“Why would they?” The words came out low, almost a whisper to himself before he continued much louder and more firm,“You’ve known him for a couple months. You don’t really know him..”

Her eyes narrowed. “I know enough to care. More than enough to see he was drowning while you..”

“Shoko,” Choso warned quietly, but she didn’t stop.

“...while you just let him. At least I tried!”

The accusation hit like a slap to the face. He had wanted to be there, but he wasn't allowed to be there. Bitterness filled his gut, twisting his stomach, his voice cracking through the strain of trying to keep his voice level.

“Don’t you dare. You don’t know shit. You don’t know anything about how....” He broke off, breathing hard. “You don’t know….”

Shoko’s chin lifted. “Maybe I wasn’t here before, but I’m here now. And I care about him. He’s important to me. You’re not the only one who..”

Sukuna pushed off the wall, his voice loud and sharp. 

“Enough! Both of you.” He stabbed a finger toward Shoko. “You don’t get to walk in and place blame, not to us, definitely not to Satoru.” 

Then he turned to Satoru, “And you, stop tearing into her like she’s the enemy. She’s here for the same reason the rest of us are. The only thing that matters is him.”

The monitor beeped steadily, the sound suddenly deafening. Satoru’s shoulders sagged. He turned back to the bed, falling back into his chair and taking Suguru’s limp hand in his, dropping his forehead to where their hands joined together. 

Shoko’s gaze softened, but she still held her ground. “I’ll be in the waiting room,” she said quietly, stepping out.

Choso’s eyes followed her for a moment before settling back on Suguru. Then he followed her out and Sukuna trailed after him.

Satoru stayed where he was, breathing deep over their joined hands like he could breathe life back into him, if he just held on hard enough, if he just loved him enough, Suguru would feel it somewhere deep down. But under the relief that Suguru was still breathing, guilt gnawed at him, because in the worst part of his mind, he wondered if Shoko was right.

🌟************************************************************************🌟

The door clicked shut behind Choso and Sukuna, and the room felt too big without them, too quiet, except for the steady beep of the heart monitor indifferent to his suffering.

Satoru stayed in the hard plastic chair, Suguru’s hand cradled between both of his like something fragile that might crumble if he let go.

Shoko’s voice wouldn’t stop echoing in his head. It’s your fault. She hadn’t said it exactly like that, but he had heard it anyway.

He wanted to be angry at her, for thinking she knew him, knew them, after only a couple months. For walking into this room with all the certainty of someone who hadn't earned it. He wanted to be angry at her for caring about him at all.

But mostly, he was angry at himself. He let Suguru push him away. He gave him space when he asked for it, instead of forcing his way back in like he always had before. For believing that maybe this time, Suguru was strong enough to weather it alone.

Satoru’s thumb brushed over Suguru’s knuckles, the skin cool but still warm enough to mean he was still here. Still here. Suguru used to press two fingers together between his middle and ring finger when they joined hands as if one of Suguru’s fingers just couldn’t figure out where it was supposed to go. It was awkward at first, Satoru teased him about it, then it became their thing. He wished so much that Suguru could do that now. 

“You really scared me this time,” he murmured, his voice so low it was almost part of the machine’s rhythm. “I thought… I thought I was too late.”

His throat ached, but he kept talking, because silence felt dangerous.

“You can be as mad at me as you want. You can hate me. But you don’t get to leave like this.” He swallowed, eyes fixed on the slow rise and fall of Suguru’s chest. His voice cracked, “I should’ve been there. I should’ve known. I should’ve done more to help”

He closed his eyes, forehead coming to rest against their joined hands again. In his mind, he saw them young and free and beautiful, the way it had always been. The way Satoru had always thought it would be. Loving Suguru was the easiest thing he had ever done, it had always come as naturally as drawing a breath. He continued to talk, voice muffled and broken, breath sinking into Suguru’s skin.

“I’m not going anywhere this time. I don’t care if you slam the door in my face, scream at me, tell me we’re over and I don’t belong…” His grip tightened and he lifted his face, staring at Suguru’s face, beautiful in its stillness. “You’re stuck with me, Suguru. That’s just how it’s gonna be…I love you so much.. You just have to wake up okay…You have to wake up.”

The monitor kept beeping, steady and indifferent, as if mocking the fact that the only answer he was going to get for now was silence. He kept talking, not caring if the words he said even made sense… ..but if there was a chance Suguru could hear him he would keep talking, for as long as it took. 

🌟************************************************************************🌟

The waiting room smelled faintly of burnt coffee and antiseptic, the kind of air that clung to your clothes and followed you home. The vending machines hummed along the far wall, their glow cold against the dim space.

Shoko sat in one of the stiff chairs, hands clasped so tightly her knuckles were white, eyes fixed on the floor as if staring hard enough might keep her from shaking.

She didn’t have to look up to know when Choso and Sukuna came in, Sukuna’s voice carried, sharp even when low.

“Good, still here” he muttered under his breath, dropping into the chair across from her, legs spread wide, arms crossed. She could not get a read on him, wasn’t sure if he was nice or mean or a scary combination of both.

Choso shot him a look before sitting beside her. “We thought we’d give Satoru some space, he’s not leaving Suguru’s side.”

Shoko swallowed, her throat dry. “Was it… like this before?”

Choso’s gaze flickered away for a moment, as if searching for a memory he’d rather not touch. “Yeah. Senior year of high school, his father passed away. It hit him hard, leaving a lot of responsibility on his shoulders. He stopped answering calls, stopped coming to class. Locked himself in his room for weeks.” His voice was steady, but it carried weight. “He never attempted but..we were scared.”

Sukuna leaned back, his eyes unblinking. “It wasn’t just sadness. It was like he’d… vanished. You’d talk to him, and it was like his eyes were looking through you to somewhere far away. Somewhere we couldn’t follow.”

Shoko hesitated, her fingers tightening around each other. “What happened? How did he… get out of it?”

“Mostly?” Sukuna tilted his head toward the hallway. “Satoru happened. Showed up every damn day. Sometimes didn’t even talk, he just sat there, doing homework, watching TV, breathing the same air. But it was enough to keep Suguru from disappearing completely.”

Choso nodded once. “We tried, too. But Satoru’s… different for him. Always has been.”

Shoko’s stomach twisted at the certainty in their voices. “And now they’re not together.”

Sukuna’s eyes narrowed, studying her. “Yeah. And I’m wondering what role you played in that.. …what exactly are you to him? A friend? Something else? Because if you’re going to sit here acting like you know what’s best for him, you better be damn sure you actually know him.”

Shoko’s mouth opened, then closed. Her cheeks heated, the truth hovering too close. “I just.. ..” She faltered, her voice dropping. “I really like him. I thought maybe…”

Sukuna leaned forward, his tone dangerous, almost mocking. “Maybe what? He might leave his thousand out of ten boyfriend for you?”

Before she could answer, Choso’s quiet voice cut through.

“Whatever you think you have with him, it is nothing.. ..nothing.. ..compared to what they are to each other. I’m not trying to be dismissive of whatever… ...whatever is happening between the two of you. I just think you should know. If you pursue this, you get half of him.. ..at best.” he paused for a moment, “I know I couldn’t do it, if Yuki held space in her heart for another, I couldn’t do it. I wouldn’t survive it.”

Shoko’s breath caught. The words landed like a slap, not cruel but certain.

Sukuna sat back again, his gaze still locked on her. “If you’re here for him, then be here. We aren’t going to tell you to leave. But don’t pretend you’re the one holding him together. That’s not how this works. That's not how it's ever worked.”

From down the hall came the faint sound of Satoru’s voice, low and steady, speaking to someone who couldn’t answer back.

🌟************************************************************************🌟

The world didn’t come back all at once. First there was the sound, steady and relentless, the soft beep that told him he had failed. Then his senses came in one by one, a dryness in his mouth from hours spent not drinking water. The fabric of the gown and hospital blanket rough against his skin. Then the weight, a hand clasping his, warm and unshakable. The brush of soft hair against his wrist. Then the light, sharp and cold from the overheads, stabbing into his eyes.

But behind that glare was another light. It had nothing to do with the room and everything to do with the man holding his hand, resting his forehead where they joined. Satoru had always carried it, like some impossible glow that never dulled. Not blinding, but warm, golden, steady. The kind of light you leaned toward without even meaning to.

Suguru had lived most of his life half in the shadow of his own thoughts. That light never quite touched him the way it did others, and yet… somehow….

His throat tightened. “You shouldn’t be here,” he rasped, voice rough from disuse, the words bitter in his mouth.

Satoru’s head lifted, and Suguru wished he hadn’t looked. The beautiful blue eyes he loved so much, rimmed with red, exhaustions shadow darkening the skin beneath them. But inside, they were filled with love and affection. Glowing with relief. It was overwhelming. 

“Why couldn’t you just let me go?” Suguru’s voice cracked, sharp with grief and exhaustion. “You don’t know what it's like in here,” he continued tapping his temple with his free hand. “I wanted to be done, Satoru. I didn’t… I didn’t want to wake up again. I can’t do this again.” 

The tears came without his permission, loud, ugly, uncontrollable sobs wracking his body, tears wet and unrelenting falling down his face. It was like every feeling he had been holding in for months just came bursting out all at once. He cried until he had nothing left and the whole time Satoru just quietly held his hand.

A nurse came in and checked on him, took his vitals, told him he would remain on a psych hold for at least the next 72 hours. Told him more people would come to speak with him. It all barely registered in his mind.

When she was gone, Satoru didn’t tell him it would be okay. He didn’t try to drag him into the light by force. He only closed his eyes and gripped Suguru’s hand tighter, resting his head on the side of the bed, pillowed by the scratchy blanket. When he finally spoke, the words were quiet but filled with grief.

“You really scared me,” he said, barely a whisper. “I thought I lost you forever.”

The words sank into Suguru, tearing him open. He wanted to say something, say anything, but he couldn’t. He still felt outside of that warmth, that love pouring out of Satoru as easily as water. He was still convinced he didn’t deserve it and he was too exhausted to fight against it. He wasn’t sure he even wanted to. Satoru’s hand was warm in his, his light golden against the shadows. For now, maybe it was enough. Suguru closed his eyes and fell back asleep. 

🌟**************************************************************************🌟

Satoru kept his forehead pressed against the back of Suguru’s hand for a long time, breathing in slow, shallow pulls like moving too much might break something between them. He was terrified it already had.

The worst part was that he’d known. He’s seen the signs this time, the way Suguru’s smile slowly disappeared, the way his texts came shorter and instead of pushing like he normally would have, he walked away. He gave him the space he was asking for, he let him isolate.

Now, looking at him in the hospital bed, pale and still, Satoru hated himself for it.

“God, Suguru…” His voice broke in the empty room. “I’m sorry. I should’ve stayed closer. I should’ve made you tell me what was wrong. I should’ve..” He swallowed hard, forcing the words down before they could spill too far.

When Suguru had opened his eyes earlier, even through the pain and anger, Satoru had seen it, that flicker of love under the surface. The shadow of what they were..what they are to each other. 

Suguru wasn’t just someone he loved. He was everything. His best friend, his confidant, the only person he had ever dared to be fully himself with. Around Suguru, nothing had to be hidden. He was the one light in Satoru’s life, and it felt like it shined for him alone. That light made the rest of it, his parents’ relentless pressure, the pain of being shaped into someone he didn’t even like.. Suguru made it feel somehow survivable. Suguru made the darkness less frightening.

But Suguru didn’t see himself that way. He never understood how much he mattered. He stood at the edges, convinced he was outside of it all, when in truth he was the center.. ..he was everything holding Satoru together. The light he carried wasn’t borrowed, it wasn’t reflected from someone else, it was his own, fierce and unshakable, and Satoru had been surviving on it for years.

That was why Satoru stayed. Why he would keep staying, no matter how heavy it got. If Suguru insisted on living in the dark, then Satoru would go there too, again and again, as many times as it took until Suguru finally understood that the light belonged to him. It had always belonged to him.

His fingers tightened around Suguru’s, desperate, almost trembling. “You scared me so bad,” he whispered, his voice breaking softer this time. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you. I love you so much. More than anything.”

🌟*************************************************************************🌟

The first night after he woke up was quiet.  The hallway outside had softened into the shuffle of nurses’ shoes and the distant hiss of the coffee machine. The fluorescent light above Suguru’s bed was dimmed, throwing more shadow than glow across the room.

Suguru wasn’t asleep. His eyes were half-open, fixed on the vague rectangle of the window. The city outside was blurred into scattered points of light, so far away it felt like another world entirely.

Sukuna, Choso, and Shoko had all left earlier, after telling him they would be back tomorrow but Satoru made no plans to leave, barely even getting up to use the bathroom or hunt down a snack from the vending machine. 

Instead he sat, slouched in the hard plastic chair, head bent against the mattress, platinum strands falling over his eyes. His hand was wrapped loosely around Suguru’s, unmoving, steady. He didn’t fidget, didn’t check his phone. He just… stayed.

“You should go home and get some sleep,” Suguru murmured, his voice rasping with disuse.

“I’m fine.”

Suguru let his gaze drop to their hands. The warmth of Satoru’s palm bled into his skin, slow and steady, the only thing tethering him here. “You don’t have to..”

“Don’t.” The word was soft, but the weight of it pressed the air flat between them.

Suguru swallowed hard. His chest ached with something too heavy to name.“I just… I thought it’d be over.” His voice broke, and once he started, he couldn’t stop. “All of it. The noise in my head. The tearing apart inside. Waking up every morning wishing I hadn’t. Pretending I was fine when I couldn’t even stand to be in my own skin.” His throat closed, tears burning hot in his eyes. “I thought if I closed my eyes long enough, it would finally go quiet.

Satoru didn’t answer right away. He didn’t try to fix it, didn’t offer empty words. He just turned his face, resting his forehead against their clasped hands. When he finally looked up, his bright blue eyes were glassy with unshed tears. His fingers tightened, just enough for Suguru to feel it.

“I… I found you,” Satoru whispered, voice shaking at the edges. “I broke your door down. You scared the shit out of me, Suguru. I thought I lost you for real. Not some stupid breakup… but gone. Off this planet. I can’t..” His breath shuddered. “I can’t let you go. I don’t know..how.”

The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was full of all the years they’d spent together, of promises made and broken, of the way Satoru’s presence had always been sunlight Suguru couldn’t step into but never stopped reaching for. He wanted to say sorry, that he had never meant for it to get this far, that he had never meant for things to get so messed up between them but he didn’t have the words for it. Everything he thought of seemed inadequate. The truth was, Suguru couldn’t let him go either. 

With his free hand, Suguru lifted the strands of platinum hair, brushing them back from Satoru’s eyes. The motion was small, almost fragile. But for the first time since waking up in this bed, the cold inside him cracked. Not enough to chase it away. But enough to make him want to stay just a little longer.

🌟************************************************************************🌟

Satoru didn’t leave. Not once since Suguru was brought to the hospital. The nurses learned to step around him, sometimes literally, when he was curled in the chair beside Suguru’s bed, legs drawn up, hoodie pulled tight against the cold hum of the AC.

Suguru slept more than he was awake. When he was awake, sometimes he stared at the wall and barely spoke. Other times, he’d let Choso sit with him, murmuring in that quiet way Choso had, saying nothing that demanded an answer. Yuki came too, hugging him and bopping him on the head, affectionately but the meaning was clear, don’t do that again, you scared us.

Sukuna was different, louder and blunt, not worried about hurting his feelings. 

“You’re an idiot,” he told Suguru on the second day, arms crossed at the foot of the bed. “Next time you want to check out, at least leave a damn note.” 

His voice cracked just enough on “note” that Suguru didn’t take the bait to snap back. He just turned his head toward the window, and nodded. Point made, direct hit. He got it.

Shoko came and went, staying as long as the nurses allowed. Sometimes she sat by the bed, talking to Suguru about nothing, music, classes, the food in the cafeteria. Sometimes she tried to engage Satoru, but his answers were clipped, eyes never leaving Suguru.

Suguru was sleeping when Shoko lingered after dinner. She stayed at the foot of the bed, arms crossed, her gaze fixed on Satoru.

“You don’t have to glare at me every time I walk in,” she said gently, though there was steel under it.

Satoru didn’t look up. “I’m not glaring.”

“You are.” Her voice stayed steady. “I get it. You don’t like me. But I’m not here to bother you. I’m here for him.”

At that, he finally lifted his head. His eyes met hers, they were rimmed red, shadows sunk deep beneath them. His voice came low and flat, threaded with exhaustion, “You think you could matter to him like I do. But you can’t. As long as I’m here, you won’t.”

Shoko’s brow furrowed, but she didn’t bristle. “That’s not a contest I’m trying to win. I don’t want to replace you, Satoru. I just… want to be someone he can lean on, too.”

“It’s not a contest,” Satoru said, leaning back in the chair, still cradling Suguru’s limp hand between his own like it was the only thing tethering him. His words came quiet, stripped bare. “It’s just the truth. We’ve been through things you couldn’t begin to imagine. I’ve known him since we were fifteen. Every first you can think of, he’s shared it with me.” His gaze flicked down to Suguru’s face, softening for the briefest second. “That doesn’t go away. Not for me. Not for him.”

Shoko’s arms lowered, her fists unclenching. “I know I’ll never be what you are to him. But you broke up. Days before this happened. So maybe… maybe you’re not the unshakable constant you think you are.” Her voice wavered slightly, not from anger, but from worry. “And that scares me. Because he needs people who won’t disappear on him, no matter what.”

For the first time, something cracked in Satoru’s expression. Not anger, but a flicker of doubt, raw and heavy, like he hadn’t had the strength to keep the mask in place. His shoulders sagged under the weight of it, the fight slipping out of him.

Silence stretched between them. The only sound was the steady beep of the monitor.

When Suguru stirred, blinking awake, the heaviness in the room only seemed to grow. He caught Shoko’s face first, managing the faintest smile. His voice was rough, thin around the edges.

“You didn’t get kicked out yet?”

“Almost,” she admitted with a little laugh.

“Better watch it,” he teased, though his tone was weak. “They’ll toss you if you stay past visiting hours.”

“They already do,” Shoko said, and her eyes flicked toward Satoru. “Some people get to stay, though.”

Suguru’s gaze shifted, finding Satoru. The smile softened into something quieter, something gentle.

“Yeah. Some people do,” he said softly. 

Shoko stayed until the nurses finally, and with practiced firmness, escorted her out for the night. Satoru stayed behind, as he always did. No one challenged him, not when the hospital wing itself bore the Gojo name in gleaming glass above the entrance.

But power didn’t look like power here. It looked like three sleepless nights in the same hard-backed chair, his shoulders stiff, his hand always curled around Suguru’s. It looked like a young man who could have been anywhere else in the world, yet refused to be anywhere but here.

And if the staff wondered why the heir to half the city sat hunched and silent beside a hospital bed, why wealth and privilege hadn’t carried him away to someplace easier, they didn’t ask. Maybe they already knew the answer.

🌟**************************************************************************🌟

By the morning of the third day, Suguru felt less like he was floating in a void and more like he was anchored to something solid. That “something” was a chair pulled right up to his bed, Satoru slouched in it with his hoodie pulled tight, his hand resting loosely over Suguru’s own.

He’d stopped trying to tell Satoru to go home. The protests had burned out sometime yesterday afternoon, replaced by a quiet, uneasy gratitude that gnawed at him more than the silence ever had.

Choso came by after lunch, his presence always a softer one, measured steps, voice pitched low, eyes scanning Suguru like he was taking a reading without letting on. He pulled up the spare chair on the other side of the bed and sat.

“You’re getting out tomorrow,” Choso said, not a question.

Suguru nodded faintly, eyes flicking to the wall instead of meeting his.

“Before you go…” Choso leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I wanted to talk to you…You need to start therapy again.”

“I’ve done that,” Suguru muttered.

“No. You’ve gone,” Choso corrected. “You sat in the room, maybe said a few words, stared at the clock. That’s not the same thing.”

Suguru’s jaw tightened. “What’s the point? I’ll just…” He trailed off, unable to put it into words without sounding like he was already giving up.

“The point,” Choso said, steady but unyielding, “is that you’re still here. And if you’re still here, you’ve got to actually try. Not just for you, though you should, but for the people who refuse to stop showing up for you, even when you make it hard.”

From beside him, Satoru didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to. His silence was its own form of insistence, the warm weight of his hand over Suguru’s knuckles like an underline to everything Choso was saying.

Choso’s gaze softened. “I’m not saying it’s going to fix you overnight. I’m saying… stop half-assing it. Commit. Give it a real shot. Let someone help you dig through the mess instead of just sitting in it.”

Suguru stared at their joined hands, the familiar heat bleeding into his skin. His throat worked, tight, his chest filling with something sharp and heavy. Trying meant failing, maybe. Trying meant ripping open everything he’d spent years learning how to bury. Trying meant admitting he couldn’t keep going like this on his own.

The silence stretched until it felt unbearable. He wanted to tell Choso no. He wanted to pull his hand away, hide in the dark where no one could reach him. But the warmth of Satoru’s palm didn’t move, steady as breath, and suddenly Suguru couldn’t lie to himself. That hand was the only reason he was still here to argue at all.

“Okay,” he said quietly. “I’ll try.”

Choso didn’t smile, he just reached over and squeezed Suguru’s shoulder once before standing. “That’s all I wanted to hear.”

When Choso left, the room settled into a silence that didn’t feel empty at all. Satoru still hadn’t spoken, but Suguru realized he didn’t need to. His being there, every hour, every breath, was the reason he could say okay in the first place.

🌟*************************************************************************🌟

The morning of his release, Suguru felt strange in his own skin, like he’d stepped out of a storm but was still drenched, shivering from the inside out.

The nurse came in with discharge papers, her tone brisk and routine, but Suguru caught the flicker of a smile when she glanced at Satoru, still in the same chair, same clothes, same unwavering presence.

Choso and Sukuna arrived just as she was unhooking the last set of monitors. Sukuna leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, wearing his usual armor of sarcasm, but his voice was softer than usual.

“About time you got out of here, idiot.”

Suguru managed a small huff of laughter, which was probably the closest he’d come to a smile all week. Choso gave him a once-over like he was checking for cracks, then nodded. 

“You ready?”

Not really. But that wasn’t what he said.

“Yeah.”

They stepped out into the hallway together, Satoru falling into place beside him without a word. Suguru noticed the way Satoru’s hand hovered close to his back, not touching, but there if he stumbled.

Shoko was at the far end of the corridor. She’d clearly been waiting, but when she saw Satoru with him, her expression faltered. Suguru gave her a faint nod in greeting, genuine, but distant. She’d been a friend, and he did appreciate that, but the truth was she had been easier to be around only because she wasn’t Satoru.

Outside, the late afternoon air hit him like a shock. Too bright. Too open. He blinked against it until he felt Satoru’s hand close around his, steady and sure.

They didn’t speak until they reached the car. Satoru opened the passenger door for him, then hesitated, leaning in just enough for his voice to be quiet, meant for Suguru alone.

“Please don’t scare me like this again,” he said again, repeating his earlier sentiment from the nights in the hospital, but they carried more weight now, like he was pressing them into Suguru’s skin so they wouldn’t wash away.

Suguru looked at him for a long moment, and for the first time since that awful night, the light that Satoru carried seemed close enough for him to reach. He nodded once, stepping into the car without letting go of his hand until the door closed between them.

It wasn’t a happy ending. But it was a beginning.

The weeks after felt like walking on uneven ground, every step careful, deliberate, as though one wrong move might send Suguru crashing again.

Mornings came early now, even if sleep still clung stubbornly to him. He went to class, sat through lectures, took notes he could actually read later. It wasn’t easy, and some days he left halfway through, but he showed up. That counted for something.

Therapy was harder. He’d been before, sat in the chair, stared at the wall, answered in clipped syllables until the hour was up. This time, Choso’s words stuck like a weight in his chest, and Satoru’s quiet presence the night before his release stayed with him. So he talked. About the jealousy that had eaten him alive over Toji. About the way he’d started to believe everyone was better off without him. About the days when even breathing felt like work.

Satoru drove him to every session, waiting in the lobby without complaint. Sometimes, Suguru came out and they would just walk to the car in silence. Sometimes, Satoru would hand him a bottle of water without looking at him, like it was easier not to meet his eyes. They hadn’t touched the subject of their breakup, it hung between them like fog, always present, always making the air heavier.

At home, the rhythm felt both familiar and strange. Satoru still lingered longer than necessary whenever he dropped him off, checking the fridge, asking if he’d eaten, reminding him about his meds. Every word was careful, every gesture precise. Careful not to push too hard. Careful not to corner him. Careful not to lose him again.

And then there was Shoko.

She still came by with her books and highlighters, insisting she needed a quiet place to study. At first, Suguru told himself it was harmless. She’d been around before everything happened, so it wasn’t strange. But lately she lingered too long, past dinner, past the point where the quiet stretched into something heavier. She talked about her classes, her friends, sometimes about him, and the way she looked at him made it impossible to ignore what she wanted.

Suguru wasn’t naive. He knew. And every time he let her stay, every time he didn’t ask her to leave, guilt curled tighter in his chest. Shoko had been kind when everything with Satoru felt unbearable, when his own jealousy and worthlessness had pulled their relationship apart. She’d been there in the silence, when he needed someone,anyone, not to let him drown. And he hated himself for wondering if that was all she was to him. Just easy company. A distraction from the hole Satoru left behind.

One evening, Satoru stopped by to drop off some papers Suguru had left in his car. He found Shoko curled up on the couch, laughing at something Suguru had said. The sound died almost instantly in Suguru’s throat when he saw Satoru’s face, smile polite but brittle, eyes flicking between them like he’d already guessed more than Suguru wanted him to. The knot in his stomach twisted into something sharper.

That night, after Shoko left, Suguru sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the wall. When she had been gathering her things earlier, she’d lingered in the doorway, waiting for him to say something. For a second, the words almost came.. ..You’re a good person, but I can’t give you what you want. I’m still his, even if I don’t know how to be anymore.

But the words caught in his throat. He couldn’t bring himself to hurt her, not after everything she’d given. So instead he said nothing, letting her walk out with hope she shouldn’t have.

His chest ached with the weight of it: the memory of being fifteen, of seeing Satoru for the first time and feeling something ignite so bright it scared him. Of everything they’d built and broken since. Shoko’s kindness only made it worse because Suguru knew no matter what she offered, no matter what he took, she could never be him. And letting her try felt like a betrayal all its own.

🌟************************************************************************🌟

It was late, later than it should’ve been for a weeknight. The living room was dim, lit only by the lamp in the corner. Two mugs of tea sat on the coffee table, long gone cold.

Shoko was still there, cross-legged on the couch with her laptop perched on her knees, scrolling through an article she wasn’t really reading. Suguru sat opposite her with his notes spread out, pen tapping absently against the page. His head ached, but he hadn’t said anything.

The knock at the door was soft, almost hesitant.

Suguru opened it to find Satoru standing there, still in his jacket, hair slightly mussed as if he’d come straight from somewhere else. “You left this in my car,” he said, holding up a messenger bag and a dark hoodie.

“Thanks.” Suguru reached to take it, their fingers brushing briefly.

Satoru’s gaze flicked past him into the living room. “She’s still here?”

Shoko looked up, offering a faint smile. “Hey.”

“Hey” Satoru echoed, his nod was polite but tired. “It’s late.”

“Yeah, we’re almost done..”

Satoru stepped inside, just far enough to hang the hoodie on the coat rack. “Suguru needs rest.”

“It’s fine, Satoru.”

But Satoru’s eyes stayed on Shoko, blue and unyielding. “You’ve been here all day. He doesn’t need to spend his nights playing host.”

The words landed heavier than he’d meant them to. Shoko’s face tightened. “He’s not entertaining me. I’m just…” she glanced toward Suguru but he didn’t meet her eyes,“..keeping him company.”

Silence stretched between them. Suguru rubbed at his temple, headache pulsing. 

“Satoru…”

Satoru dragged a hand through his hair, sighing. “Maybe you should go, Shoko.”

For a moment, she didn’t move. Then, slowly, she closed her laptop and packed her things waiting for Suguru to say anything.. ..but he didn’t. 

The silence after Shoko left was thick enough to choke on. Suguru sat back down on the couch, elbows on his knees, staring at the cold mugs of tea on the table. His chest felt tight, crowded.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he said finally, voice low.

“Yeah, I did. You weren’t going to.”

Suguru’s head snapped up, anger cutting through the exhaustion. “You don’t get to decide that for me. We’re not together anymore, Satoru. You don’t get to kick people out of my apartment like you still have that right.”

Satoru’s eyes flickered, something raw and unguarded. “I just want what’s best for you”

Suguru pushed on, bitterness spilling over. “That didn’t do that for me. That was about you. You can’t stand her being here, so you pushed her out. Maybe I didn’t want her here. Maybe I did. That’s my choice. Not yours. You forcing her out like that? It was rude. ”

The silence rang louder than shouting. Satoru’s hand flexed against the doorframe, but he didn’t move.

Suguru’s throat worked, the anger giving way to something heavier. “I don’t even know if I want your help anymore. I can’t… I can’t keep living like I owe you everything just because you broke my door down…I’m grateful..I am..but if you want to be my friend?” He ran his fingers through his hair and got up from the couch walking towards where Satoru stood by the door. 

“Okay,” he continued “I would like that too, but it’s going to take time. And right now, the best thing you can do for me is give me the space to figure out what that looks like.”

Something raw, almost desperate flashed across Satoru’s face, but he swallowed it down. He nodded once, curt, like it was the only thing holding him together.The door clicked shut behind him.

After Satoru left, the apartment felt hollow in a way even silence couldn’t explain. Suguru sat on the edge of his bed for a while, elbows braced on his knees, listening to the faint hum of the refrigerator through the walls. When he finally lay back, the ceiling above him was nothing but shifting shadows, dark against darker.

Sleep wasn’t coming. It hadn’t in weeks, but tonight it felt like his body wasn’t even trying. His mind kept circling, restless, snagging on Satoru’s voice, on the sharp way he’d said it.. .I just want what's best for you.

Suguru wanted to dismiss it. Wanted to roll his eyes and call it jealousy, the same old possessiveness Satoru had always had over him. But the thing that caught in his chest was the fact that it wasn’t jealousy. Not exactly. Satoru had seen something Suguru himself was too cowardly to admit: that Shoko wanted more than what he was giving her. And that he hadn’t done a damn thing to stop it.

Before the hospital, before all of this, he had leaned on her. Not the way he leaned on Satoru, never that raw, never that terrifyingly deep, but enough. She made the hours pass easier. She filled up space without asking for too much of him. She was uncomplicated, light, even funny when he needed to forget himself.

And he had let her.

Sometimes, when things with Satoru had been at their worst, when his own jealousy had turned him bitter and small, he’d catch himself thinking of her instead. Her laugh, her hand brushing his arm, the way she tilted her head when she listened. He’d told himself it was harmless. That he was just tired of the weight of history pressing down on him. That imagining her was easier than looking into eyes that knew him too well, eyes that saw every crack he tried to hide.

But lying here in the dark, he couldn’t call it harmless anymore.

Because Shoko liked him and he knew it. And instead of drawing the line, he’d blurred it, let her stay too long, let her read his silence as an invitation. Because it was easier than pushing her away. Easier than facing the fact that despite everything, despite the wreckage between him and Satoru, despite nearly tearing himself out of this world, he still loved him.

Still wanted him.

And that was the worst of it. He could shove Satoru out with a few sharp words, but Shoko? He couldn’t seem to tell her to leave. The guilt sat in his chest like a stone, pressing harder the longer he stared at the shadows overhead.

He didn’t know what he felt. Didn’t know if he could even trust what he felt right now. All he knew was that the confusion itself was suffocating and that Satoru’s absence in the apartment made it hurt worse than ever.

🌟**************************************************************************🌟

By March, Suguru had slipped into something that resembled a routine, even if it didn’t quite feel like living. Therapy twice a week. Classes. Meals when he remembered. Sleep when his body gave up fighting. Some days, that was all he could manage, and he told himself it was enough.

People filled the spaces around him, Shoko more than anyone. She’d come by with her books and highlighters, claiming his place was quieter than the library. Sometimes they talked, but more often they didn’t. Hours would pass with her on the floor, cross-legged, papers scattered around her like she belonged there. Maybe she did.

But lately, he noticed things he hadn’t before, or maybe things he’d refused to notice. The way her shoulder lingered against his when she leaned close, the tilt of her smile when he made a joke, how her eyes caught his a moment too long before darting away. Subtle things. Small. But not small enough.

He told himself not to read into it, but the guilt was always there, heavy and sour. Because he knew she had feelings beyond friendship and he hadn’t pushed her away. He wasn’t setting clear boundaries. He told himself it wasn’t the same, she was just a friend, that he wasn’t leading her on, but every time her laugh slipped into his chest like warmth, every time she looked at him too long, he knew he wasn’t being fair. He couldn’t give her what she wanted. He couldn’t give anyone anything, not when he was still trying to claw his way back to some version of okay.

Shoko was always around, effectively weaving herself into their circle now. Laughing at Sukuna’s antics, even coaxing a rare smile out of Choso. She fit in easily, like she’d always been there, and it should’ve made things easier, her attention diffused, her presence not so squarely aimed at him. But it didn’t. If anything, it made it harder for Suguru to keep the lines clear.

Choso and Sukuna didn’t let him disappear the way he used to. Choso was constant, steady, his quiet support showed up in the smallest ways: a hand on Suguru’s shoulder in a crowded hallway, a pause at the classroom door to make sure he was coming. Sukuna was the opposite, pulling him along with relentless energy, loud and grinning, making it impossible to vanish without a fight.

And then there was Satoru.

Sometimes he was there, sometimes he wasn’t. When he was, it was different, polite, but formal. Satoru never spoke to him casually anymore. They would run into each other with their groups of friends and Suguru would get a nod, a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes. Never conversation, Satoru didn’t even ask how he was doing anymore. They only saw each other in public spaces and that easy closeness that used to feel like breathing? Gone. 

Suguru had asked for space, sharp enough to wound, and he knew Satoru had taken it to heart. Satoru was giving him what he wanted. So why did Satoru’s casual dismissal hurt so much? There was so much left unsaid between them, about what they had been, what they still were, what they could never be again.

What stung worse was when Toji was there too, worming his way into his friend group. Universally accepted and liked by everyone except Suguru. Always hovering too close to Satoru, laughing at something in his ear, smiling in a way that made Suguru’s stomach twist. 

He told himself it didn’t matter. He had no right, Satoru could do what he wanted. Suguru had let him go, what did he expect to happen? The jealousy came anyway, irrational, bitter and ugly. Eating away at him. What right did he have to be jealous? What right to feel that kind of ownership over Satoru, when he couldn’t even keep his own hands clean? He’d thrown away what they had. He’d been the one who let his jealousy rot their love until it crumbled. And now here he was, still wanting to claim Satoru, while letting Shoko sit in the places that used to belong to him alone.

It felt hypocritical. Cowardly. Cruel.

And worst of all, it felt like betrayal, like every laugh, every shared moment with Shoko was proof of just how easily he could wound the person he still loved.

There was no way to win. Every choice led to someone getting hurt. So he just kept moving, one day into the next, therapy, classes, meals, sleep.. ..waiting for something inside him to shift, waiting for the weight to lift. Waiting for an answer that wouldn’t come. Hoping, in small, desperate ways, that eventually he’d know how to make things right. With Satoru. With Shoko. With himself.

🌟**************************************************************************🌟

Chapter Text

College Sophomore Year

The city was slowly shifting and spring arrived, but for Suguru, it felt like he was standing still in the middle of it all, like a stone in a riverbed, watching everyone else move forward.

The school gym was transformed for the spring festival, strung with colorful paper flowers, and balloons floating up to the sky. String lights cast a golden hue over the whole space warming it, making it more inviting. Music pumped through distant speakers, something ancient and universally appealing. Colorful booths and food stands lined the walls leaving space in the middle for anyone brave to dance, currently that number was zero. Laughter rolled through the crowd like static, cheerful and relentless.

Suguru lingered at the refreshment table, cider going cold in his hands. He wouldn’t have been here if Choso and Sukuna hadn’t cornered him earlier, their matching stubbornness impossible to dodge. “It’ll be good for you,” Choso had said, like it was medicine. “Don’t be boring,” Sukuna had added, dragging him along by sheer force of personality.

They disappeared about 10 minutes after they got there, Sukuna went to go bother Yuji who was helping to run one of the stands and Choso got dragged away by Yuki. So Suguru just stood, watching the crowd for a bit until Shoko’s brown hair peeked through the crowd. 

Her scarf still loose from the cold, cheeks pink, her smile too wide to be casual. “You came,” she said, almost triumphant.

“Didn’t have a choice,” Suguru muttered, though his mouth twitched in the faintest echo of a smile.

She leaned in just enough for her shoulder to brush his. “Still. I’m glad.”

She grabbed his arm with all the confidence of someone that had done it a thousand times and dragged him over to the balloon dart booth. Yuji smiled and waved at him from the cotton candy booth next door and he watched for a moment as Sukuna attempted to make the most grotesquely large ball of cotton candy he had ever seen. 

Shoko tugged on Suguru’s sleeve redirecting his attention back to the game in front of them. “Come on, this one’s easy.”

Suguru eyed the game suspiciously, these things were always rigged. The last time he played this, Satoru had won.. .. ..

“Let's do it,” he said with more confidence than he expected, effectively distracting himself from his own thoughts. 

“Yay,” she said, handing him a few tickets. “You get three darts. The winner gets to pick the next booth, the loser doesn’t get to argue or veto their choice!”

Suguru sighed. He was already regretting his choice to come. 20 minutes in and he was already daydreaming about Satoru. The noise of the crowd seemed to press around him. For a moment, he almost put the darts down and left, but Shoko tapped his arm and grinned up at him. He stepped forward and threw.

The throw was terrible, the dart had to be weighted weird or something. Rigged. The dart missed the balloons completely and clattered against the table mocking him. Shoko snickered next to him. 

“Wow. Terrifying aim.”

“Shut up,” he muttered, but there was the faintest curve to his mouth.

Now he was serious. He had something to prove! He would not be bested by rigged darts. The second dart at least had the decency to not clang against the table and skimmed a balloon before stabbing into the wall next to it. Shoko clapped like he had done something extraordinary gathering the attention of those around them. 

“Spectacular darlin’,” she teased. “I am so going to win, last chance!”

The last dart flew straight and true and hit two balloons only proving Suguru’s theory that the whole thing was rigged.

“That counts as two,” he said with a smirk, moving out of the way for her to take her turn. 

Shoko scoffed and took a ridiculous stance, legs slightly spread, arms too stiff. 

“Watch and learn,” she told him over her shoulder. 

The first dart she threw sang through the air and right into a balloon like it had been directed there by magic. 

Shoko whooped and grinned at him. 

The next dart she threw also hit its mark and Suguru found himself watching intently for her final throw. It was silly, it was just a dart game but he was invested now. 

The last dart hit the balloon and Shoko grinned and did a little jig, cheering like she just won a gold medal. She was cute like this. Adorable really. He had never seen her playful side before, she was always serious to some degree. 

The booth worker handed over a prize: a small stuffed elephant, pink and with large glassy eyes. Cheap but cute. She handed it to him, telling him it would add some color to his boring apartment. 

He smiled despite himself and tucked the elephant under his arm. 

“What's next champ?” he asked her. 

She shrugged, “Dunno, let's wander until something catches my eye. The something ended up being a face painting tent. A girl with short green hair at the booth called them over, “Couples get a discount!.”

Suguru almost corrected her immediately but Shoko nudged him in the side of his stomach. 

“Shush, I want a discount.”

Suguru sighed and followed her over the tent. 

“You first loser,” Shoko said, pushing him down into the chair. 

Suguru eyed all the glittery paint pots. Glitter made him think about Satoru too. That time after Satoru was a glittery cat for Halloween, they had glitter all over the apartment, his clothes, his couch, everything… ..for weeks. This stuff at least looked like it wasn’t industrial grade. 

He sat stiff in the chair while the green haired girl brushed the paint across his cheek. He had let Shoko pick the design, trying to be a good sport or whatever. When the painter leaned back, Suguru turned and caught his reflection in the small mirror she held up.

A glittering heart, tiny but luminous, shimmered just under his eye.

“Beautiful!” Shoko declared, clapping her hands together. 

Suguru couldn’t help the blush that spread across his cheeks and he stood up quickly to relinquish his chair, eyes scanning over the crowd while Shoko sat to get her face painted. 

She tapped on his shoulder when she was done, he turned to see the same heart, same color, same glitter on the same spot under her eye. 

“Now we match.”

Something twisted in his chest. Stupid, how something so small could make him feel seen. He glanced away before she could read his face, but not before she caught the flicker of warmth in his eyes.

Before he had a chance to respond or suggest something else to do, the air around him seemed to shift, the way it always did when he walked in.

Satoru.

Tall, lean, dressed in a perfectly tailored jacket that spoke of money and careful taste. Platinum hair fell into his face until he swept it aside, only for it to fall back again. His beauty was striking enough to draw eyes without effort, but Suguru barely noticed the crowd’s reaction. He couldn’t look at anything else. The sharp cut of his shoulders. The startling blue of his eyes, the way they found Suguru instantly, as if he’d been searching for him from the moment he entered. There was something like relief there, brief, fragile, and gone before Suguru could hold onto it.

He hadn’t seen him in awhile, it was almost like he had forgotten for a moment how gorgeous he was. It felt like the ground just dropped out from under him. He remembered how much it hurt just to look at him now.

Then Suguru noticed Toji slid in beside him, smooth as always. He laughed at something Satoru said, his hand brushing his arm in an easy, practiced way that spoke of familiarity. When his gaze flicked toward Suguru, it lingered. Cool. Measuring. Amused. Suguru always felt like Toji was fucking with him, and it was worse now that Satoru was single.

Suguru’s chest tightened.

Shoko, bright and oblivious to the tension that had always existed between Suguru and Toji, waved them over. 

“Satoru! Toji! Over here!” her voice was light, almost… eager.

Satoru hesitated for just a second like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed, then started walking across the room. Toji followed closely, eyes never leaving Suguru.

“Didn’t know you’d be here,” Satoru said softly, voice pitched lower than usual.

“Choso and Sukuna,” Suguru answered.

Satoru nodded, unusually quiet. The way he always was with him now. Suguru hated it. He didn’t know how to fix it. 

Toji smiled. Not warm, not kind, more like a secret he was daring Suguru to pry open. “Glad you made it. Be a shame if you missed out.”

Suguru bit the inside of his cheek to keep from answering.

Shoko glanced between the three of them, her eyes catching on the way Toji stayed close to Satoru. Her smile tilted, curious, almost knowing, and Suguru felt his stomach knot. Is that what she thinks? That Satoru and Toji were… something? Did Toji want her to think that? He was leaning into it, every touch deliberate, every laugh a little too loud, a little too familiar. God, were they? His friends would tell him wouldn’t they? If Satoru moved on, would he know?

Satoru was too quiet, his eyes flicking from Suguru back to Shoko and back to Suguru again. 

“Nice face paint. It's cute.” Satoru said, voice still soft. Cautious. His eyes met Suguru’s for just a second and then moved away like it pained him.

“Thanks!” Shoko beamed standing next to Suguru so Satoru and Toji could see they were matching. 

Toji beamed back at her like he had just won the lottery. “So cute!” he said, and his voice sounded so fake it made Suguru want to choke him on the spot. 

“We should get a group photo!” Shoko suggested. 

“Sounds perfect,” Toji said smoothly, glancing at Satoru. “Right?”

Satoru didn’t answer right away. He looked uncomfortable, like he would’ve accepted any excuse to step away at that moment. 

Shoko laughed lightly, tugging at Suguru’s sleeve. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”

Suguru stayed rooted in place, every muscle strung tight. He shouldn’t care. He had no right to care. But his chest burned watching Toji stand there, too close, too comfortable, guiding Satoru along by the arm like Satoru belonged to him.

The photographer, an eager sophomore, gestured them into place.

Toji moved first, sliding to Satoru’s side like it was the most natural thing in the world. His arm draped over Satoru’s shoulders, casual but unmistakable, fingers spread in a way that looked like possession.

Suguru’s jaw clenched.

Satoru didn’t pull away, smushing close for the photo.

Shoko dropped to the floor in front, tugging Suguru with her. “Here, next to me.” She leaned close, her arm brushing his again. He sat stiffly, forcing his body into stillness, every nerve aware of Satoru’s presence just behind him. 

The phone clicked. Shoko laughed for another shot. Suguru forced his mouth into a thin approximation of a smile.

When the photographer turned away, to head over to a table to print out their photo, Suguru stood up to face them again.  

Toji was watching him. That same deliberate smirk, slow and cruel, curling his mouth. Like he knew exactly what Suguru was feeling, as if they were playing a game and Suguru had already lost. 

Shoko stood next to the photo booth waiting for their pictures. She probably thought it was just a harmless group photo. He had told her that he was trying to be friends with Satoru. She probably thought Toji and Satoru were a couple. 

Satoru’s phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out to check. 

“I gotta run,” he said. Although he probably didn’t, it was just the perfect tailor made excuse to run from the awkwardness. 

“What about the photo?” Suguru asked before he could stop himself. Don’t go.

Satoru shrugged, “It's okay, my hair probably looks bad anyway.” and then he ran his fingers through it as though to exacerbate his point. 

“Anyway, good seeing you.” and he left walking back into the crowd. Toji trailing after him.

Suguru’s stomach churned with equal parts jealousy and disgust at himself. He had no right to burn like this, not when he had spent all afternoon with Shoko, not when he was the one blurring lines and refusing to let go.

But he couldn’t stop staring at Satoru. He couldn’t seem to fully let him go. 

🌟*******************************************************************🌟

Dr. Yaga’s office was quiet except for the ticking clock. Suguru sat on the couch, his hoodie pulled tight around him, trying to hide in the folds of the fabric. 

“So,” Dr. Yaga started gently, “You’ve looked upset since you got here today, would you like to talk about that?”

He stared at the floor not making eye contact or looking up at him. “Just..there was this stupid school festival, and something happened there that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about…it’s stupid.”

“Its not stupid if it's bothering you,” he replied simply. 

“Toji was there,” Suguru muttered, the name sour in his mouth.

“The same Toji you’ve mentioned before? The one you think might be interested in Satoru?”

His jaw clenched. “It’s not just that. He acts differently around me. Smirks, like he knows something I don’t. And he’s always too close to Satoru, touching him, standing beside him like he belongs there…and Satoru doesn’t stop him.”

“That upset you?”

“Yes.” The word fell out of his mouth before he could stop them. “It feels like he’s stealing him from me, and I can’t even say anything about it because I gave him up. We’re not together anymore, I don’t even have any right to feel this way.”

Silence pressed down on him, broken only by the ticking clock.

Dr. Yaga leaned forward slightly. “But you’ve told me before that you still love him.”

Suguru’s breath stuttered. “…Yes.” The word was small, raw.

“So it’s painful to watch someone else move into that space.”

Suguru nodded, once, then stopped himself. Shame burned hot under his skin. His hands twisted in his sleeves. “It’s more than that,” Suguru admitted, voice low and cracking. “Before everything went wrong, when Satoru and I started having problems, I..” He swallowed, shame burning hot in his throat. “I leaned into Shoko. She was easy. She laughed at everything I said. She didn’t come with all the history. I keep telling myself it doesn’t mean anything but sometimes I think about her instead just because it hurts less” He paused, dragging a hand over his face, eyes wet. “..and now..now Toji is taking my place beside Satoru and I want to be mad about it, I want to hate him for it, but it's all my fault. I did this. I asked for it.” 

Dr. Yaga’s gaze was steady, kind but sharp. “Do you think some of that hate is because Toji isn’t afraid? Because he’s taking risks you’ve convinced yourself you can’t take yet?”

Suguru froze. The words hit harder than he wanted to admit. His throat closed, his chest pulling tight until he thought it might split him open. He stared down at his shoes, unable to answer.

“You’ve been working hard to heal,” Dr. Yaga continued softly. “But healing doesn’t erase what you want. And it doesn’t erase the truth, that you still love Satoru. You’re still choosing to keep him at arm’s length, you’ve admitted that. You can’t expect the space beside him to stay empty forever and watching someone else be where you once stood…it will hurt Suguru. You have to be honest with yourself and have the courage to go after it. You’re stuck in indecision and it's eating at you.” 

“This isn’t about Toji, this isn’t even about Satoru. It's about you Suguru. What do you want? What do you want for your life? Where do you want it to go? Who do you want to be there with you? I can’t answer these questions for you…it takes strength to go after the things that you want and I see that strength in you Suguru, you’ve come far since the day we met.” 

He let Dr. Yaga's words sink in. Tried to sit with them, to feel them, to answer those questions. What did he want? To be happy. What did he want for his life? To be a photographer and travel the world. Who do you want to go there with you? Satoru. It was always Satoru. He loved him. He loved him so much that it was wrecking him. If he wanted that love to mean something, he had to stop running from it. Fear had destroyed him. 

Suguru swallowed hard, finally lifting his head. His voice shook, but the words came out clear.

“…I don’t want to lose him. Not like this. Not to Toji. Not to anyone. I need to figure this out. I need to try.”

Dr. Yaga nodded once, calm but firm. “That sounds like a decision.”

Suguru leaned back on the couch, feeling relief for the first time that day. He had a direction to go, a path to take. For once, he would not drown in an endless spiral. 

🌟*************************************************************************🌟

It was a beautiful spring evening, the air was soft and cool, carrying the faint sweetness of blooming wisteria from somewhere near the library and the sharper green bite of freshly cut grass. Streetlamps illuminated the sidewalk, their halos spilling warm light across the brick paths.

Satoru strolled back toward campus with Yuji and Megumi, his hands shoved lazily into his pockets. They were still buzzing from the movie Yuji had begged them to see, their laughter spilling out too loud for the near-empty courtyard.

“Come on, Megumi, you cried like… three separate times,” Yuji teased, practically bouncing as he reenacted the saddest scene.

“A dog died,” Megumi muttered, bristling, his cheeks pink in the lamplight. “You know how I am.”

That only made Yuji laugh harder, Satoru joining in, his voice carrying over the quiet night. It wasn’t cruel, it was sweet, seeing Megumi’s composure crack for something as simple as a golden retriever. For a moment, Satoru let himself sink into the warmth of it, their voices filling the stillness between rustling leaves and the chirp of crickets.

They reached the fork in the path, the fountain in the center glinting faintly with coins scattered in its depths. Yuji and Megumi veered off to the right, still bickering, waving as they went. Satoru raised a hand in a casual salute, his grin lopsided, then turned left, his steps echoing quieter now.

The courtyard seemed larger without their voices. A few stragglers crossed under the lamplight in the distance, but otherwise it was just him, the sound of his own shoes against the stone, and the faint shimmer of spring wrapping itself around the night.

“Hey, Satoru.”

The voice came from behind him, smooth and steady. He turned to see Toji walking towards him with his hands buried in his pockets. 

“Toji,” Satoru replied, “Whatcha doing out here, it's past midnight?”

“Same as you. Heading back home.” He fell into step beside him without waiting for an invitation. His broad shoulders threw long shadows across the pavement. “Haven’t seen you much lately. Figured we should catch up.”

Satoru gave him a small, polite smile. “Things have been… busy. End of term, you know?”

“I know.” Toji’s gaze lingered on him, the corner of his mouth tugging into something between a grin and a smirk. “I’ve noticed you with Suguru and his crew less.”

Satoru kept walking, not taking the bait, but Toji didn’t mind the silence.

“It’s not a bad thing,” Toji went on, voice light as though they were making harmless small talk. “Suguru’s… intense. And his friends..” he gave a soft laugh, “never really understood the appeal. You, though… you’re sunshine, Satoru. Warmth. You could have it all. You deserve someone who doesn’t dim that light.”

Satoru stopped, brows pulling together. “Toji.”

He stepped closer, his shadow merging with Satoru’s. “I’m saying I could be that for you. No drama. No history weighing us down. Just… us…we could be good together.”

Satoru’s heartbeat picked up, the slow creep of unease settling over him. He thought of Suguru, how even at his worst there was something Satoru couldn’t let go of. He missed him. They had always been pulled toward each other, no matter what.

“I think you..” he began, but Toji cut him off.

“You don’t have to answer now. Just think about it.” His voice softened, almost coaxing. “You deserve to be happy. And maybe I’m the one who can give you that.”

Satoru’s pulse jumped, but not with excitement. The air between them felt wrong, crowded. He opened his mouth to answer and Toji moved in closer. Swift and sharp, leaving him no room to step back. His hand caught Satoru’s shoulder like an anchor and his mouth pressed hard to his, his other hand cradling his face. It wasn’t tentative. It wasn’t a question. It was claim, bold and presumptuous, sealing the space between them before Satoru could breathe.

Neither of them noticed Suguru standing nearby shrouded in the shadows, his hands jammed deep into his coat pockets. He didn’t wait to see the kiss end. He was already gone. His chest locked tight, air scraping out of him like broken glass. It didn’t matter that he didn’t know what happened after. The image was enough, it was already too much.

Suguru’s breath fogged in the cold air as he walked, the image burned in his mind like a cruel photograph he couldn’t look away from. Toji leaning in to kiss Satoru. Their silhouettes tangled together under the streetlights. It didn’t matter that he'd looked away before it ended. The damage was done. There was a void in his chest and he couldn’t think straight. 

What he never saw was that Satoru jerked back violently, pushing Toji away the second his lips made contact. 

“What the fuck, Toji?” Satoru’s voice was sharp now, his earlier politeness stripped away.

Toji only smiled faintly, infuriatingly unbothered, straightening his jacket. “Don’t pretend like you don’t want me”

“I don’t…fuck…what the hell? I thought we were friends.” Satoru replied, his voice gone cold, furious. “I’m not interested.”

Toji lifted his hands in mock surrender, but his eyes lingered like he’d already won something. “Fine. No need to get all upset. I misread the situation, my mistake.”

None of that reached Suguru. No refusal, no outrage, no pushback. All he had was the kiss burned into his mind, and regret because he was too late. He had finally decided to do something about the distance. The thought twisted ugly in his mind as he stepped into his dark apartment. 

He lay in bed but he knew he wouldn’t sleep. All he could see was Satoru, kissing under the streetlight. It was his fault, he had pushed him away, right into Toji’s waiting arms. He had been so paranoid about it, his mind was flooded with jealousy over them being together but a part of him never actually thought it would ever happen. The kiss felt final, like a stamp on the end of their relationship. 

Satoru was never coming back, and he loved him, still, always.. ..so much. That love had been fierce and reckless, hard to hold on to. Now it was done. He had fucked up the best thing that had ever happened to him, let it wither away and now Satoru was going to run off into the sunset with fucking Toji! Suguru wanted to tear his hair out in frustration. 

He had done this. He had caused all of this..because what? because Shoko was..easier? Because she didn’t come with years of tangled history and thousands of unspoken words? She made him laugh, she was pretty, sweet and fun to be around and he’d leaned into it. He let her get close while pushing Satoru away. He let himself imagine something less complicated, even if it was never real, because he did not love her. And now it was too late to change any of it. 

🌟****************************************************************🌟

Satoru’s chest felt hollow in a way that had nothing to do with the cold. He hadn’t even seen Toji coming. Not like that. He thought they were friends, good friends, even. Someone who didn’t care about the rumors or the spotlight that trailed after him everywhere he went. Someone who laughed with him, not at him; who looked him in the eye instead of past him to the name carved into the glass of skyscrapers. Someone who liked him for him, not because of who his parents were, or how many people knew his name, or the effortless way doors seemed to open for him.

And then, in one sharp, uninvited moment under the streetlamp, that illusion shattered.

He could still feel the press of Toji’s hand against his face, heavy and claiming, like it was less a touch than a brand. His stomach had knotted instantly, not from attraction but from the sudden tilt of the world, the realization that he had been mistaken.. ..again. The anger had come fast, hot, but beneath it curled something older, uglier. The echo of doubts he thought he’d outgrown.

Of course. Of course it wasn’t real. Of course there was something he wanted.

It was always like that. People liked the surface, the warmth, the shine, the laugh that could fill a room. They liked what he could give them: access, status, power. They liked the light. But never him. Never the boy underneath. It was all so exhausting. 

He stumbled into bed, falling asleep to the thought running steadily through his mind, that the one person who had always seen him, was gone and he still didn’t even really understand why. 

⭐

Satoru found Choso in the student union the next afternoon, tucked into a corner with his laptop and a half-empty cup of coffee. Choso looked the same as he always did, black from head to toe, hair in messy knots on the top of his head, eyes rimmed in liner, the only pop of color, a bright pink braided bracelet, most likely a gift from Yuki.

Satoru didn’t even bother with a hello. He just dropped into the seat across from him and slumped forward, cheek against the table, platinum hair falling across his face. The weight of last night dragged at every bone.

Choso looked up once, and closed his laptop with a soft click. “Alright. What happened?”

Satoru talked into the table, barely audible. “Toji happened.”

That earned a raised eyebrow. “Be more specific.”

“He…” The words caught in Satoru’s throat, bitter and heavy. He forced them out. “He fucking kissed me last night.”

Choso blinked slowly. “Huh.”

“Huh?” Satoru raised his head to look at him in disbelief. “That’s all you’ve got?”

Choso took a sip of his coffee before elaborating. “I mean, I could say ‘I told you so,’ but I didn’t actually tell you. I just… suspected.”

Satoru groaned, tipping his head back as if the ceiling had all the answers. 

“I thought he was my friend.”

“Yeah, you think a lot of people are your friends.” Choso said mildly. “Sometimes they actually are. Most of the time they want something. You’re not exactly low-profile, Satoru.”

“I know, I just thought he was different.” Satoru said with a sigh that seemed to come from deep within him. 

Choso nodded in understanding but didn't say anything. 

Satoru let out a groan of frustration running his hands through his hair, “This whole time Suguru was right. He kept telling me there was something off about Toji and I kept shrugging it off, convinced that we were just friends.”

Choso sounded sympathetic when he replied, “You couldn’t have known. You tend to believe the best about people, even when they don’t deserve it.” he paused for a moment, “Does Suguru know?”

“About the kiss? How could he? He barely speaks to me anymore,” Satoru replied bitterly. 

“You should tell him,” Choso suggested, “Before he hears it from someone else and gets the wrong idea.”

Satoru hesitated, “What would I even say? He made it clear that he did not want me in his life anymore..and it's killing me Choso. I can’t be around him. I can’t watch him with…her…would he even care anymore?”

Choso didn’t have an answer. They sat in silence for a few moments, Satoru resting his head on the table again.

“I’m sorry about your friend,” he said finally. “He seemed like a cool guy.”

“Yeah,” Satoru said softly, regretfully, not lifting his head up from the table. He was so tired of saying goodbye to people. He was so tired of everything.

For a while, the only sound was Choso’s steady typing as he reopened his laptop, fingers moving at their usual unhurried pace. Satoru stayed slumped across the table, letting the quiet fold around him like a blanket he didn’t have the strength to pull up himself.

Yuki walked up, wrapping her arms around Choso’s shoulders. “What’s wrong, darlin’?” she asked Satoru, who was lying with his face smushed to the table, half buried by his hair so only the corner of his face showed.

Satoru grunted, not bothering with words.

Yuki kissed Choso’s cheek, then sat beside Satoru, reaching her hand out to brush the hair from his eyes. Her fingers lingered for a moment, gentle. Toji’s hand the night before had felt like a trap. Yuki’s was the opposite, soft and anchoring, reminding him he wasn’t alone.

“Come have dinner with us. You look like you need it,” she said brightly. “And I’ve been wanting to kick your ass at Mario Kart. I unlocked some new karts.”

A weak smile tugged at his mouth. “Okay.”

Choso went back to his work, finishing up before they left. Satoru stayed as he was, head still on the table, Yuki absently stroking his hair. For the first time since last night, his chest loosened just a little. At least this friendship, this messy little corner of found family, was real.

Chapter Text

College - Sophomore Year

Suguru had been stuck in a funk since the kiss. Not his kiss. Not their kiss. But the one burned into his mind that he couldn't seem to forget, Toji leaning in under the streetlight, Satoru’s silhouette caught in it. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t seen the whole thing, didn’t matter what came after. That single image was enough to unravel him.

It was like all the progress he’d clawed toward these past months had been wiped clean in one brutal stroke. Therapy, the routines, the fragile threads of laughter with his friends, just gone. He could feel himself sliding backward, inch by inch, into the familiar dark. And the worst part was knowing it, being fully aware of the spiral, and still feeling powerless to stop it.

At school that day, he was quieter than usual at lunch. His friends filled the table with noise and warmth, Sukuna drumming on the tabletop, Yuji trying to rope him into a story about some ridiculous gym accident, Shoko nudging his elbow with hers. One by one, they tried to pull him out, to spark some reaction. But their voices reached him like echoes from underwater. He chewed without tasting, nodded without listening. He just… didn’t care.

He had been broken up with Satoru for months, but it still felt raw, like it had just happened that morning. Maybe it was only now hitting him,  the real loss delayed, because he’d been too numb before to feel the full wound. Now the numbness was thinning, peeling back to reveal the grief beneath. And it hurt.

He’d been so stupid. So wrong. He kept replaying all the ways he could have done it differently, spoken sooner, clung tighter, refused to let the space between them widen. But he couldn't reverse time and now all he could do was sit in his regret until it burned.

Would he ever stop loving Satoru? Would there ever come a day when he woke up and didn’t feel that hollow pit in his stomach, like a missing limb he kept reaching for? Or was this it, the permanent ache of knowing what he lost, of carrying it inside him wherever he went?

The questions left him paralyzed. He stared across the table at his friends, laughing and teasing each other, and all he could think was: When did I turn into this? This person who doesn’t even know his best friend anymore. This person who doesn’t even know himself.

That night Shoko showed up at his door, a six-pack dangling from one hand, a paper bag of takeout in the other.

“You’ve seemed down for the last couple days,” she said, stepping inside before he could argue. “I can’t take it anymore. We’re fixing that.”

Suguru thought about sending her away, but the smell of fried food and the determined set of her jaw made him step aside. They ate cross-legged on the floor, the quiet between them heavy.

“Do you ever wonder,” Shoko said eventually, her voice slow and softened by the beer, “if maybe everything you need is already right here. You don’t have to keep searching Suguru.”

Suguru's fingers tightened around his bottle. He didn’t answer, just thought of Satoru under the streetlight, Toji’s arm around him, kissing him. 

Shoko leaned forward, brushing a stray piece of hair from his forehead. The touch was barely there, but it landed like a jolt. He didn’t move away.

They were close enough to feel each other’s breath, her warm eyes locked on his, her voice was low and certain. “I really like you, Suguru,” and she leaned into him and he didn’t pull away.

Their kiss was messy and urgent, he could taste the beer they were drinking in her mouth. His hand reached for her waist and pulled her into his lap. Her fingers curled in the fabric of his shirt. It wasn’t about wanting her, not really. It was about wanting out of his own head, away from his thoughts that wouldn’t stop spinning with the same name Satoru Satoru Satoru. 

Their kiss was messy, sloppy, a tangle of spit and tongue and desperation. For Shoko it was months of wanting more with him and finally getting it. For him it was escape and months of forced celibacy after his split with Satoru and the resulting depression that had killed any thoughts of sex. 

All that desire and passion came back now, thrumming through his body making him feel in a way he hadn’t for months. Her body warm pressed against his, small and slotted against his in a way that Satoru’s never could be. Her small arms wrapped around his neck as she kissed his comparisons away. She moaned into their kiss pressing her pelvis down on his lap, feeling how hard he was beneath her. How much he wanted her. 

He thrust up against her as she reached down to fill his bulge through his sweatpants. He let her take the reins, overcome by passion and desire and the way she looked at him like he was valuable, something to be cherished. 

His hands drifted across her body, hands sliding up her shirt to cup her small but firm breasts, thumb brushing lightly across the nipple. It occurred to him that she hadn’t worn a bra almost like she had planned this, but as soon as the thought came it disappeared when a loud moan escaped her mouth. 

He lifted her to lay her back down on the couch, straddling over her, licking up her stomach, circling his tongue around her nipples, gently nibbling on them and sucking the flesh into his mouth, delighting in every little sound that escaped her.

Her hand slipped under his waistband as she took his thick, hard cock in her hand, smaller than he was used to. Her hands were small and delicate and nothing like what he had experienced before. It didn't matter, he wanted it. He wanted her. 

She started to stroke him, rolling her thumb along his tip, kissing and sucking along his neck. It would leave a mark. It didn't matter. He didn’t care anymore. Her skin against his, the heat of her breath, every whimper that escaped her mouth when he touched her. It was sexy as fuck and he couldn’t stop. There was no turning back, just blind passion as they melted into each other. 

He picked her up, carrying her to the bedroom. He always liked showing off his strength and she was tiny, easy to maneuver and toss around if he wanted. Carrying her was nothing. She let out a small gasp of surprise before she wrapped her arms around him, and was kissing him again. He stumbled his way to the bedroom, dropping her down softly to the bed when his legs hit up against it.

She was small under him laid out on the bed, so different from what he was used to. He removed her shirt, her breasts bouncing as she laid back down. He slid her pants off next, and she wasn’t wearing any panties either. Planned or was she always like this? Fuck. His cock was incredibly hard looking at her spread out on his bed. 

He’d never been with a woman and found himself a little nervous about it, she looked so.. ..it wasn’t going to fit. He pressed a finger down to rub across her folds, already slick with her want. She moaned out at the contact throwing her head back and he knew right then nothing was stopping this from happening. 

He needed to be inside her, now. He slipped a finger into her hot, heat, her walls tight and gripping against him. She smiled up at him, taking his other hand and guiding it where she wanted it, guiding his thumb to rub against her clit. He thrust into her with his finger, gentle at first, then faster, adding a second while his thumb rubbed at her clit and she squirmed under him. 

She was beautiful like this, letting go and completely at his mercy. He had to have her. He slipped his fingers out and slid a condom on his painfully hard cock. He looked at her, checking in, gaining approval. She grinned at him, grabbing his cock and guiding it herself down to her wet and waiting pussy. He slipped into her hot, wet warmth and he forgot everything else. He pounded relentlessly into the warmth of her body, not gentle, but with a feverish passion like he couldn’t get enough, like it would never be enough. Intoxicated by the moans that filled the room and all that existed was this moment with her panting and breathless under him and it felt amazing. 

Her hands gliding against his skin reaching, grabbing, squeezing, making him come alive. It felt good to be wanted, to be desired. It felt good to let go. She shook and shuddered under him as she came and his own release was not far behind. When his release finally came, she clenched against him, draining his cock of everything he had to give, and he let out a groan from somewhere deep in his gut.

He pulled out and fell to the bed next to her, panting and sweaty, the air still heavy with what had just happened between them. Suguru started at the ceiling as everything came back to him. Post nut clarity clearing his mind better than an eraser on a chalkboard. His pulse thudding in his ears, and beautiful blue eyes filled his vision. He closed his eyes, willing them away. For a while, neither of them spoke, they both knew this changed everything. 

🌟*********************************************************************🌟

Suguru woke to bright light leaking through the blinds. Shoko was still asleep beside him, her hair spilling across the pillow, one arm curled loosely toward him.

For a moment, he just lay there, listening to the faint sound of her breathing. It should have felt simple…comforting even. Instead, there was a dull ache in his chest.

Flashes of the night before ran through his mind, pieces of memories as though he had not even fully been there, her laugh, the warmth of her mouth on his skin, the way their hands pleasured each other. But inside he knew, he’d wished it was someone else the entire time. 

He eased himself out of bed quietly, careful not to wake her, and sat on the edge with his head in his hands.

It had been purely physical for him. He liked her, he did not love her. He knew he couldn’t give her what she wanted from him. He had used her, again, only this time so much worse. She’d been kind to him when he felt lost and alone, she’d been there to show him warmth in the same way that Satoru used to before Suguru created so much space between them that he couldn’t anymore. Last night wasn’t about starting something new with her, it was just a way to try to fill the hollow emptiness inside that he kept running from. He’d run..right into the arms of someone else and all the words he still needed to say sat lodged in his throat. 

Shoko shifted in the sheets behind him, murmuring something in her sleep. Suguru stared at the floor, the knot in his stomach tightening. This was going to make everything so much worse.

He couldn’t go back to sleep. His mind racing endlessly. He moved back out to the living room cleaning up the mess they had left behind in their rush to touch each other. Then he sat on the couch until he couldn’t stand it and got up to make breakfast. 

The smell of coffee drifted through the apartment by the time Shoko woke up, masking the faint scent of last night that still clung to the sheets in the other room. Suguru stood at the stove, focusing too hard on the eggs in the pan.

Shoko came in barefoot, wearing one of his old shirts that fell almost to her knees. She slid her arms around his waist from behind as she got close.  

“Morning,” she whispered.

He glanced back with a smile that felt rehearsed. “Morning.”

She grinned at him like there was no question about where they stood now, like last night had cemented something between them. She kissed his jaw, light and lingering, then moved past him to pour herself coffee, hips brushing against his.

“I could get used to this,” she said, holding the mug in both hands. “Us.”

The word landed heavy in his chest. He didn’t correct her. Didn’t tell her it wasn’t really us.. ..at least not for him. Last night had been about escape, not beginning. About burying a hurt he didn’t know how to face.

He flipped the eggs onto plates and set one in front of her, avoiding her gaze. She smiled anyway, leaning forward to steal another kiss.

He let her.

Because the truth felt too raw to speak out loud. And right now, silence was easier than honesty.

🌟************************************************************************🌟

After that night, every part of their interactions changed. Shoko found small ways to touch him throughout the day, subtle but intimate. She’d brush her fingers against his as they walked, always placing a hand on his arm when they sat together, leaving little to no personal space between them. No matter where they were, it was clear that Shoko was making it known. They were a couple, he was taken. 

Sukuna, of course, noticed the change immediately.

“You and Shoko, huh?” he said with a smirk, falling into step beside him. “I never thought you’d ever leave our resident pretty boy alone, but I guess you moved on quick!” he leaned in, grinning, “you guys get freaky yet?”

Suguru’s head snapped toward him. “It’s not like that.”

Sukuna snorted. “Could’ve fooled me. She’s all over you, man. Not that I’m judging..just surprised…. and a girl at that, didn’t know you swung both ways. Good for you!” he said, patting him on the back.

Choso had been walking a few paces behind, quiet as always, but Suguru could feel his eyes on him.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with her,” Choso said finally, his tone neutral but probing.

“Is that a problem?” Suguru’s reply came too quickly, too defensive.

Choso didn’t answer right away. He was remembering the last conversation he had with Satoru, how upset Satoru had been when he admitted Toji kissed him. How hurt he had been that another person had failed to see him as a person and instead just an object, something to obtain. And how Satoru had admitted hopelessly, helplessly, as though he wished he could change it, that all he had ever wanted was Suguru. 

“No,” Choso said after a long while, though his gaze remained steady. “It's just…interesting..not sure why you're trying to deny it.” 

Suguru looked away, not able to answer. Not here, not now, maybe not ever.

🌟***********************************************************************🌟

Suguru told himself the night with Shoko was a one-time thing. A mistake and it would never happen again. It kept happening, easier each time, until there was no hesitation at all, just the familiar weight of her body against his and the warmth that made his mind go blank. 

She was at his place more than her own now. Her clothes in his laundry hamper, her toothbrush in his bathroom, an extra pair of her shoes by the front door.

Suguru told himself it was fine. It was casual, they were friends with benefits, and the benefits were good. Sex could happen without feelings. It could happen without love. It was just a physical connection between two people, it meant nothing.

He knew he was lying to himself. Not about his feelings, those he was mostly sure of. He loved Satoru, he missed him, his brain was a tangled mess of longing, regret and shame whenever he thought of him. There was no room for anyone else there, not in his heart. It had been taken before he ever realized he had given it, when he was 15 at a table in a high school cafeteria.  

He was lying to himself about what it was doing to her. He could see it in the way Shoko’s eyes softened when she looked at him, in the way she lingered by his side, in the way she lit up when he came through the door. It was clear that she was falling hard for him, and he was letting her, knowing he could never reciprocate. 

It was easier than being alone. It was easier than facing the truth. It was easier than facing himself. At the root of it all, he was a fucking coward. 

🌟*****************************************************************🌟

Across campus, Satoru’s life was a different kind of quiet.

On paper, it looked full. He was at the top of his class, and with exam season in full swing, he spent hours sealed away in glass-walled study rooms, towers of books stacked around him, notes lined in flawless rows of color. 

When he spoke, people listened. His calm explanations and easy humor carried study groups that sometimes ballooned to fill the whole room, half the department crowded in to hear him untangle concepts like it was second nature. 

Compliments followed him everywhere, you’re brilliant, you make it all look easy, I don’t know how you do it , but none of it mattered. He smiled, nodded, scribbled another example problem on the board, and kept going.

Because for Satoru, it wasn’t really about this campus anymore. Physics was what he loved, the one thing that felt like his, but his father had made it clear there was no future for him here unless he bent to the family business. The compromise was already in motion: transfer overseas at the end of the semester, finish his degree while interning at Gojo Enterprises’ satellite office, fold himself into the shape they wanted while clinging to the one thing he couldn’t give up.

It was something he would’ve talked to Suguru about. Suguru would have convinced him he didn’t have to go. He would have told him he could be anything. The reality was he never had the freedom of choice, and Suguru was gone anyway. He would’ve asked him to come with him, they could get funky accents together and see the world. It didn’t matter now.

So the late nights, the perfect grades, the endless hours at the whiteboard, it was all just groundwork. A bridge out of here. A countdown to the death of Satoru Gojo as they all knew him.

He hadn’t seen much of his friends since his last talk with Choso. He told himself he was busy, told himself everyone was busy, but the truth was he didn’t know how to step back into their orbit when he was already pulling away. The reality was that it hurt too much to be around Suguru. He didn’t ask about him, he didn’t want to hear about him. So he split the friends in his head, Yuji and Megs were always his. Yuki too until she had chosen Choso. Choso and Sukuna had always been Suguru’s. They were all friends, and had been since falling into an unlikely group in high school. But if he avoided those two at least, it reduced his chances of running into Suguru. Because what was the point? It was too late to fix anything. He’d be gone soon anyway. 

🌟*************************************************************🌟

It didn’t matter how many times Suguru said, “It’s not like that,” people had eyes.

Shoko was always there, right next to him, touching him, smiling at him, pressing in against him. Even without openly making out in the hallways it was obvious. The comfort between them was loud and difficult to ignore.  

Sukuna called him out again, loudly.

“You two gonna start holding hands and making out in the courtyard, or are we all still pretending we don’t see it?” he said one afternoon, leaning across the cafeteria table with a smug grin.

“It’s not like that, we’re just friends,” Suguru muttered, stabbing at his food without looking up.

“Sure,” Sukuna said, drawing the word out, “I let my friends mark my neck all up too. Should start wearing turtlenecks if you want me to believe your dumbass.”

“You literally spend all your free time with her, like come off it man,” Sukuna added.

Suguru didn’t say anything, just sat there eating, ignoring him. Sukuna smirked at him and resumed his own meal. He had gotten all the confirmation he needed.

Choso stayed quiet through it all, but he had been paying attention. Caught in between Suguru and Satoru just as he had been since they were teenagers. He had spent many nights lately talking it all over with Yuki. She would listen and remind him it wasn’t his problem to fix. But he troubled himself with it anyway.

Choso saw how Shoko’s gaze softened when she looked at Suguru. He saw the way Suguru stiffened when her name was brought up yet still made space for her any time she tried to join them. And he remembered how hurt Satoru was the last time they spoke, defeated. 

Satoru was a lot of things, annoying, obnoxious, too playful, too smart for his own good, but one thing Choso had never seen in him was defeat. He hated it. He hated knowing what Suguru was doing, he hated knowing how it would crush Satoru once he found out, and he was sure Satoru didn’t know. He was barely around lately, busy with end of term expectations, he would not have seen any of these recent..developments. 

The knowledge sat heavy inside him. Should he tell Satoru knowing how hurt he would be…or wait for the eventual fallout..Choso wasn’t sure which would be worse. 

🌟**************************************************************🌟

It was late on a rainy Thursday, the week before exams and the end of term. Bags were packed, dorms were cleaned and full of moving boxes. The whole campus was buzzing with anxious energy as students darted between buildings rushing from one event to the next. Squeezing in one last moment of studying one last memory of the semester before they would break for the summer. 

Inside Suguru’s apartment, that urgency didn’t reach him. He was slouched deep into the couch, sweatshirt hood drawn low over his face, eyes fixed on the flicker of the TV and some pointless show that he couldn’t pay any attention to. Shoko was there with him, she was always there now. They had just come from his bedroom, her bare legs tucked under her as she sat  on the other end of the couch, drowning in one of his shirts. Her dark hair was pulled into a loose knot at the top of her head with wayward strands falling into her face.

Suguru’s legs were stretched across her lap and she traced her fingers idly along the seam of his sweatpants as they sat together. His mind was elsewhere. 

“Hey,” she said, gently pinching his leg to get his attention. “Have you eaten anything today? I can order something.”

“I’m fine,” he said, voice low, flat.

“You’re not.” She slid closer until she was no longer under him but leaning over his legs, straddling one of them, her own bare legs left to the cold air of the apartment. She gently tugged his hood back, brushing a lock of his black hair away from his eyes. “Tell me what's going on, don’t shut me out.”

Before he could respond, the front door opened. There was only one person who ever walked in without knocking, only one person who’d ever earned that comfort. His heart stopped then his pulse spiked instantly.

Satoru.

He stepped inside, talking a mile a minute like he always did,  “Suguru, I’m so sorry to stop by unannounced, I know you hate that, but I wanted you to have this before I …” 

His words stopped mid- sentence as he took in the scene in front of him.

Shoko straddling Suguru, half naked, in one of his shirts, her hand still on his face. Suguru was locked in place, eyes wide. This looks wrong, I should move, I can’t move, oh my god no, please, its not..

For a moment, there was no sound at all. The silence stretched around them.

Satoru’s voice, when he spoke again, was rough. Like it came from somewhere deep inside him. Choked, cracked, “Sorry, didn’t know I was interrupting.” 

Suguru sat up so quickly that Shoko tumbled from his legs onto the floor with a startled sound. It may have been comical if it wasn’t for the situation. Panic rushed through him, “It’s not what....

But Satoru was already backing away. His expression .. .. ..god, Suguru had never seen it before, never wanted to see it ever again knowing it was going to be burned into his brain. His eyes weren’t sharp, weren’t blazing with fury, they were broken, cracked. Splintered at the edges, like glass about to fall apart.. It was devastating. 

“I shouldn’t have come,” Satoru interrupted, voice low, barely getting the words out, backing back up toward the door.

That's when Suguru saw the gift bag in his hand, a gift, something meant for him. Just as quickly as the door had opened, the door shut, and he was gone. 

Silence flooded in, thick and suffocating.

Suguru stared at the door, his pulse roaring in his ears, the echo of Satoru’s broken voice heavier than anything Shoko could say.

🌟********************************************************************🌟

The door clicked shut behind him, but Satoru didn’t move right away. He stood with his back against the wall, standing in the dimly lit hallway breathing heavily. 

The gift bay lay forgotten on the ground at his side where he had dropped it. Inside was a book he knew Suguru had been looking for, his dad’s assistant had been able to acquire a rare copy signed by the author. 

He wanted to give it to him in person before he went back to his parents for summer break.  He wouldn’t be coming back after. It was a peace offering, a chance to bridge the gap between them. It was stupid. He was stupid. He shouldn’t have come.

He left it there in the hallway, along with whatever was left of his heart. It surely wasn’t in his chest anymore, he felt hollowed out, like he couldn’t breathe.

He stepped out into the night, the light sprinkle had turned into a torrential downpour. Cold water streamed down his cheeks as the rain hit his face. He bowed his head and walked fast until he was running with no destination in mind. It didn’t matter. Nothing matters. His shoes slapped loudly against the pavement. He ran until his breath burned in his chest and he continued to push himself until his body gave out forcing him to stop before he collapsed onto the ground. 

Suguru had moved on. He had replaced him. He really didn’t love him anymore. He had shut Satoru out while he held her close. How long has it been happening? Before they broke up? Before the break? Before the distance that stretched between them, now an ocean with no boat and no shore.

Why didn’t he know? Why didn’t Suguru tell him the truth? Why didn’t anyone tell him? They looked comfortable, they’d obviously been going out for a while. Not a single one of his friends thought he should know? 

He collapsed on a random bench on some street that he didn’t recognize. He had run and run and run but couldn’t outrun his own feelings and they poured out of him in a pathetic display alone on some random bench.

A quiet voice in his head whispered, ‘what did you expect, who could ever love you. Nobody. Nobody ever stays, nobody is ever real. Nobody will ever want you.’

Through force of will alone, and because he was actually freezing cold and soaking wet, he went to the only place he could think of. He couldn’t return to his empty apartment. Not when every inch of it made him think of Suguru.

Choso’s apartment was warm and inviting, soft light and colors, small touches here and there from two people that had built a loving life together. Something Satoru would never have, he thought bitterly. 

Yuki was curled up on the couch with a blanket around her shoulders, her hair in a messy bun, looking flawless as always. She smiled when Satoru came in, but it faltered almost immediately at the state of his appearance and the look on his face.

Choso was already rising from the armchair. “Satoru..”

“Don’t…please..” Satoru said, voice rough. He was soaking wet and miserable. His platinum hair stuck to his face, eyes red and wet from either the rain or his seemingly endless stream of tears. All he wanted now was for someone to tell him the truth. “You knew.”

Choso froze. Yuki glanced between them, uncertainty flickering across her face.

“You knew,” Satoru said again, quieter this time, like the words hurt more when they came out soft. “about him…and…and Shoko.”

There was no point denying it and Choso’s silence was its own answer.

Satoru gave a short, bitter laugh, but it was hollow. “Everyone knew but me. I..” He broke off, dragging both hands down his face. “Why? Why wouldn’t you say something?”

Choso’s expression was pained. “Because it wasn’t my place. I thought maybe Suguru would…” He trailed off.

“Would what?” Satoru’s voice cracked, not with anger, but something far more brittle. “Would tell me that he left me for someone else? That I wasn’t enough anymore? That I couldn’t give him what he needed?” His shoulders slumped, the fight draining out of him.

Yuki shifted on the couch, the blanket pooling in her lap. “Satoru..” she began softly, but he shook his head.

“I just don’t understand, I don’t understand any of it. He was jealous about Toji, I know that but I’ve never wanted anyone else,” he said, almost to himself. “I..I just wanted him. God I wanted him forever. And now he’s…he’s already moved on to someone else like I never mattered at all…I can’t..I don’t....” His voice gave out entirely.

Choso crossed the space between them, resting a hand on his shoulder. Satoru wanted to be furious with him for not telling him but he couldn’t. It wasn’t his fault this happened and he was a good friend. He wouldn’t lash out and destroy anything else in his life.

Satoru felt himself collapse and couldn’t stop it, like all his strength just crumbled at once. Strings cut and the marionette falls to the ground. He felt Choso’s strong arms wrap around him, not caring that he was still dripping from the rain. He felt Yuki brush soft fingers through his hair, pushing it back off his face.

“I just don’t understand,” he whispered. “Why doesn’t he love me anymore?”

Neither of them had an answer.

🌟*************************************************************🌟

As soon as the door shut behind Satoru, Shoko got up and stomped, actually stomped into Suguru’s room slamming the door. The sound echoed through the apartment, accompanied by the rain crashing against the windows. Suguru sat on the edge of the couch stuck into place, hands clasped tightly in his lap. Shoko came back out of the room fully dressed and clearly upset. 

“What the hell was that, Suguru?” She demanded, hurt, confused, and angry all twisted together into an expression he’d never seen from her before. “You acted like I did something wrong, like I shouldn’t have been touching you. We’ve been together for weeks!”

Suguru lifted his head but he didn’t look at her. “I didn't want him to find out like this…I didn’t want to hurt him.” 

“What about me?” she shot back. “You threw me onto the goddamn ground Suguru. You don’t owe him anything! You broke up two months ago! I’m your girlfriend! You should care more about MY feelings than his!” 

The words hit him like a slap across the face. Girlfriend..right, in everything but the word. He visibly flinched. “You don’t understand.” 

“No, I really don’t,” she said, stepping closer. “Because I thought this meant something to you. We spend every damn day together, you fuck me like you never want to let me go! I thought we were building the same thing here and the whole time…he was more….” She cut herself off, swallowing hard.

Silence stretched between them. Suguru still couldn’t look at her.

Shoko let out a huff of frustration, and then closed the distance between them, kneeling before him. She reached one hand up to his face “I love you Suguru.”

He closed his eyes trying and failing to not lean into her touch. He knew it, he knew it before she said it.  “Shoko…”

“I know you care about me too, don’t sit here and lie to me like it was all for nothing. Look at me, Suguru, tell me the truth. ”

He dragged a hand over his face, unintentionally pushing her hand away. “It wasn’t nothing…I do..I do care about you,” he said and he meant it. “But it's not..you knew how I felt about him before any of this started. We barely broke up after being together for years and you expect it to just be done, just like that?” 

Her breath caught. “I want to believe you but..I just don’t understand…he was awful to you, you were so depressed with him…I know you love him but he can’t be good for you. You deserve better. ”

His jaw tightened. “Don’t, please.” He forced himself to look up at her, and his voice was stern, “I put myself in that hospital, don’t you blame him for it.” His voice broke a little, “He saved me….” he paused for a long moment, Shoko still crouched in front of him, “I told myself everything would be fine, that we could do this and it wouldn’t hurt anyone..but you love…you love me..and I’m sorry but I don’t feel the same…I can’t..”

Shoko stood up backing away from him as though his words had physically pushed her. “You can’t?” her voice cracked. “I can’t believe you…god this is so fucked up Suguru.” She moved towards the door sliding her coat on. “So what then..you just used me to help get over him?” 

He didn’t answer, he couldn’t even look at her. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

She slammed the door on the way out leaving an emptiness that he felt all the way down to his bones. Everything felt wrong. He felt numb to everything that had happened replaying the words from both of them in his mind. He felt like all the progress, all the work, all the steps he had taken forward had all shattered in a single night. Maybe he was just fooling himself this entire time, no part of him was healed. 

Suguru sat on the edge of the couch until the minutes stretched into hours, wondering if she might come back and yell at him more. He deserved it. She didn’t. 

The rain outside had turned into a torrential downpour, painting the city outside his windows black. Black on the outside, black on the inside. He forced himself up and wandered his apartment aimlessly. Every surface was covered with her, her things still sitting on his counter, the smell of her shampoo lingering in the air, the sheets still mussed from their entanglement only two hours ago. 

He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. For months now, he had told himself he was fine. He was better, the negative thoughts and nightmares had faded away. He was coping, school was better, his friendships were still alive, things were good. 

But he had been lying to himself. He had been living in the shadows of what he actually wanted, too cowardly to actually go after it. He had pushed away his best friend, his main confidante, his guiding light.. for what?.. For fragments of a life? For the warmth of someone that could never fill the space his greatest love left behind?  

He was tired, in mind, in body, in soul. He felt himself slipping again and couldn’t do anything but sit huddled in the corner of his living room with his back pressed against the wall. He felt hollow, the weight around him suffocating. His mind whispered negativity to him in a voice he couldn’t shut out. ‘See? You never got better. You just got better at hiding it.’

He stayed there a long time. Listening to the rain. Breathing slow, careful breaths until the heaviness dulled just enough for him to stand.

When he finally felt exhausted enough to sleep, he laid on the couch, unable to return to the room where she still remained.

🌟******************************************************************🌟

Exams came and went in a blur that Satoru was barely conscious of. It was fine, he would pass, it was child's play for him. When his last paper was finally turned in, he didn’t wait for results. He didn’t attend after parties. He didn’t care. He packed his bag that same afternoon and caught a driver at his apartment entrance within an hour. 

He had always planned to go home for the summer, his father had a series of requirements for him, it would just be easier. His campus apartment was bought and paid for as was everything else in his life. It could sit empty for all time for all he cared. 

All he knew was that he needed to be away. Away from the city. Away from campus. Away from him. He couldn’t stand it. The last few days had been hell, trying to ignore his friends' knowing looks. 

Fuck them all for not telling him. For letting him walk in on them. For allowing him to have the image of them together burned into his brain. It wasn’t fair to be mad at them, but he felt like he might explode if he stayed a second longer. 

Home was the same as it always was, quiet, and empty of any feeling or warmth besides what he brought along with him. A grand museum of expensive items polished to perfection bought by people that loved him only for what he could accomplish, never for him. He was sure his mother wouldn’t even know what his favorite color was. It didn’t matter, they weren’t home anyway and wouldn’t be back from their overseas trip for a couple weeks so the house was empty, just him and the servants that kept their distance. The silence suited him. 

Days went by in a daze of routine. Get up, go downstairs to the home gym, run until he couldn't feel his legs, shower, eat, lay in bed staring at nothing. He didn’t want to be there. He didn’t want to be anywhere. Not on campus, not around any of his friends who had called and texted and been left on read. Not anywhere where he might run into Suguru and his..girlfriend. The word sat heavy in his chest, and he pushed thoughts of them away. 

Suguru had tried to contact him once, the night after he walked in on them.

Suguru: I’m sorry, please let me explain. 

Satoru had stared at it until the words blurred, wanting to reply but finding he had nothing to say, nothing nice anyway and more harsh words between them would only increase his hurt. He shoved his phone away, forgetting about it. 

Suguru didn’t reach out again. The silence between them continued to grow.

His parents returned from their trip with the weight of their expectations for him. They smiled politely when asking about his life but only showed any real interest when he talked about his accomplishments. He had duties to fulfill, a role to play, he wouldn’t disappoint them like his brother had. 

He packed the next day to leave overseas with his father. It was expected of him and he couldn’t find a reason anymore to refuse. What did his own dreams matter anyway? He had always been just another cog in the machine, just another life to throw away, just another pretty face, a man in a suit. It was all anyone had ever seen and it was time to just step into it, accept it. It didn’t make a difference where he was or what he was doing, the holes inside him would remain.

🌟*****************************************************************🌟

While Satoru was gone, Suguru filled the silence between them with noise. He threw himself into his friendships with desperation. Never skipping an invite, late-night ramen runs with Sukuna and his girl of the week, wandering the city exploring, shopping, being the sad third wheel with Choso and Yuki. 

Movie marathons that went into the early morning until he passed out on Choso’s living room floor. Anything to avoid being alone too long. He couldn’t. When he was alone his mind was in turmoil, his own personal worst enemy feeding him negativity and doubt, trying to drag him down into that same numb comfortable darkness. 

He started talking.. .. to anyone that would listen. Choso, always strong and steady at his side, didn't say much at first, he just sat and listened. Silent but comforting. It wasn’t until they were alone, Yuki having a night out with some of her friends that he said what was on his mind.

They were sitting in the living room having just finished a brutal standoff in Mortal Combat. 

“You should have told him the truth from the start.” Choso said, setting his controller aside. 

Suguru didn’t answer, not sure what to say and waiting for him to continue, sure there was more.

“We talked, you know ... .me and Satoru..a lot. He never understood any of it. He told me that he knew you were jealous over Toji.”

Suguru made a face at his name that made Choso chuckle.

“I know you don’t like him….but Satoru never did either. Not the way you thought he did. You know that right?”

Suguru nodded but didn’t say anything.

“You should’ve just talked to him. If you wanted to try a different kind of relationship. If you were actually done with him..which I don’t believe for a second you were…but you should have just talked man. Told him what you were worried about, and instead you…”

Choso paused again looking at him, “You know I love you, you're like a brother to me, a much kinder one than Sukuna,” he chucked again. “But I don’t really like the person that you’ve been lately. You haven’t been yourself all year and I’m really hoping you take some time to just be honest with yourself..because that guy.. my friend....I miss him.”

Suguru nodded again, “I know.” 

Then they went back to killing each other in Mortal Combat like Choso didn’t just rip his heart out, and then he literally did, in game, and Suguru laughed, genuinely for the first time in weeks. 

🌟*********************************************************************🌟

Sukuna didn’t agree with Choso’s disapproval. Why would he, he had slept with an entire sorority. He was loyal to his friends but never to a woman. He thought the whole thing with Shoko wasn’t even worth hiding and that Satoru should just get over it. 

“It’s not like you cheated,” he said, pushing his empty ramen bowl to the side. “You guys were over. Who cares who you fuck? If you want my opinion, you should definitely fuck more, I know some girls that could blow your mind.”

Suguru let him talk, he didn’t agree but it wasn’t worth arguing about. When it came to morality, they were not really playing the same game. It wasn’t really whether it was right or wrong to lead Shoko on, to play pretend in a relationship he was never fully invested in. It was that it never really felt right, and he had lied to himself trying to force himself to believe that it could be. 

Yuji and Megumi ignored him, as he expected. They always stood more in Satoru’s corner than in his. Yuji just kinda shrugged whenever they were in the same space, looking apologetic but standing loyal with his friend. Megumi looked like he was going to punch him, if looks could kill, he’d already be dead. 

He had not seen Shoko since that day. She texted sometimes and it was a mixture of anger, wistfulness and the desire to still be friends. He always responded, he owed her that much, but when she asked to come over, he refused. 

By the end of summer, he was starting to feel better. Not the hiding, running, lying, better he had been but truly feeling okay. He was excited to start a new term, determined to fix the things that he had messed up in his life. He had not heard from Satoru all summer, and he wasn’t around in any of their group hangouts. He missed him, he longed for him. He didn’t know how to breach the silence over the phone, afraid of being left on read or sent to voicemail, he wanted to do it in person. 

Summer break ended and soon the campus was filled with students new and old as they made their way back lugging suitcases and sunburns, their voices carrying through the courtyard with both laughter and complaints. Suguru wanted to feel that same joy, but there was still a critical piece missing. Still no Satoru.

Suguru was hanging out with Choso when Yuki broke his brain.

“I still can’t believe he left. It was so weird saying goodbye, he talked like we’d never see each other again,” she said over her shoulder as she stirred something on the stove. “But I get it, he got into that university overseas. The one with the big particle physics program.”

Suguru’s head snapped over to where she was standing. “Who?” he asked, dreading the answer. Physics, they had one friend who..

Yuki froze, the spoon in her hand stilled. 

Choso looked like he wanted to be anywhere but there, “Satoru,” he said as though bracing for impact. 

The name landed like a punch to the gut.

“No.” Suguru said, rejecting it immediately “No, he wouldn’t..”

“He did,” Choso said quietly. “Didn’t say goodbye to many people…I’m sorry…I thought you knew.”

Suguru was already heading towards the door, and didn’t register what Yuki said as she called after him. There was a buzzing in his ears that drowned out everything around him. 

He was running before he even realized it. Past the student union building, past the library. When he got to Satoru’s building, he rushed up the stairs and banged on the door. 

No answer. He tried the handle and the door opened. Inside the place was vacant. 

The expensive velvet couch where they used to sit and argue over movies was gone. 

The table where they sat and shared coffee in the mornings, gone. 

The kitchen counters were stark and clean, no dishes, no coffee pot, no pictures hanging on the wall, no shoes sitting by the door or coats hanging on the hooks. 

He walked through the apartment checking each room and finding them all the same. 

He was gone and the only thing left was the faint scent that was so distinctly Satoru that it brought him to his knees. 

Suguru knelt there in the center of the empty room as panic flooded through his entire body. He had run as fast as he could, but he was still too late. 

His breath heaved as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and pulled up Satoru’s contact. His grinning face behind a signature peace sign filling the screen. 

He pressed the call button and heard the words that made him crumble into pieces, ‘We’re sorry but the number you have reached has been disconnected or is no longer in service.”

Chapter Text

PRESENT DAY 

Five years, and somehow it felt both endless and too short to undo what they’d done to each other. Suguru hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Satoru since their dinner together. The warmth of his palm when their hands clasped during the movie, the soft, careful way Satoru looked at him, as if afraid the moment might shatter if he breathed too loudly.

It was strange, being around him again. Like no time had passed at all and like an eternity had. They were cautious, both of them, polite where they’d once been wild, deliberate where they used to be easy. But underneath the awkwardness, there was still that quiet and magnetic pull, older than either of them knew how to name. Even with the air thick with all the things left unsaid, it felt right. Too right.

Why’d you leave? he’d asked, stupidly, like some part of him wanted to dig his own grave and lie in it. Like the answer wouldn’t absolutely gut him. Of course Satoru hadn’t given him a real answer. Not over beers and half-hearted laughter. Maybe not ever. Maybe Suguru didn’t deserve an answer, not after everything he’d done.

He’d spent years rebuilding the life he’d torn apart. He’d been so stupid and hurt so many people. He was lucky, really, that anyone still called him a friend after dealing with the shadow of a person that he became. It took years after Satoru left, years of therapy and honesty to get to a place where he felt like he could breathe.

He never got over what he did to Satoru who had never deserved any of it. Satoru had always been too good, too bright and he’d loved Suguru so completely, so endlessly, effortlessly and Suguru had struggled to hold on to it, never feeling like he deserved it. He had pushed Satoru, so far away, so consumed by jealousy that he couldn’t imagine a scenario where they could just be happy together. He had created his own reality and then was drowning in it.

His thumb rubbed absently over the band of his ring, the soft circle of metal biting into his skin. A promise to someone else. A promise he kept telling himself meant something solid. He shouldn’t even be thinking about Satoru, shouldn’t remember the sound of his laugh or the look in his eyes when he smiled. He had to just let it go. He had moved on, built a life with someone else. And his heart? Well his heart was a mess. His heart couldn’t say no, it never could. Not to Satoru. Even in the height of all their relationship troubles, his heart had always known what it wanted. His brain had just won.

When Satoru invited him to lunch, his heart answered before his mind could stop it. It was only later that he would have time to think over how much of a sticky web he was creating for himself. 

Because no matter how much time passed, his heart still remembered the shape of Satoru’s light. And it still leaned toward it.

🌟************************************************************************🌟

It was supposed to be a quick visit on Suguru’s lunch break, half an hour, maybe forty minutes. Just coffee and a quick bite. Just catching up. Two hours later, they still sat there. The little corner café near his office had emptied out while they talked. Outside, the city moved on, but inside, time felt like it had slowed down just for them. 

Satoru sat across from him, leaning back in his chair, the light shining through the window caressing him in its glow like it shined only for him. His shirt sleeves were rolled to the elbows, watch glinting faintly as he lifted his cup. The years had changed him, sharper jawline, calmer voice, same beautiful eyes, same unruly hair sitting atop his head, same effortless glow that spilled out of him to shed light on anyone nearby. Suguru couldn’t stop staring.

Their knees brushed under the table and neither moved away. Every small touch felt like sparks, making Suguru feel like a high schooler again. Satoru reached across the table to steal the last sip of Suguru’s iced coffee, a small teasing gesture that he had done hundreds of times before. It should have been nothing. 

But his fingertips grazed Suguru’s wrist, and the touch lingered on his skin long after Satoru had leaned back in his chair, grinning. Suguru couldn’t help but smile back, Satoru’s childish playfulness had always been endearing and Suguru would have let him get away with murder, and then helped him hide the body. His smile faltered for just a moment, his chest tightening with that familiar ache that he had carried for years. To be here with him, so close, enveloped in his scent, his light, his laugh. It felt so right and also like a betrayal, like he should be running but all he wanted to do was lean in. 

He checked the time, startled to see how late it was. His phone buzzed against the table, Mahito’s name flashing on the screen. He flipped it face-down and pretended not to see it. Just a few more minutes, he told himself. Just a few more moments of this warmth before he went back to the life he’d built without him.

Satoru was rambling, light and airy, relaying something about his day, but Suguru barely heard it. He just watched, watched as he animated with his hands, watched the way he lit up when he mentioned the intern he was fond of, watched the way his smile was reflected in the shimmering blue of his eyes. He was too aware of how easy it was to be here with him, how natural it felt. How dangerous it was to continue meeting with him.  

When they finally stood to leave, Satoru’s hand brushed his again in a small, accidental touch, and he knew he would be thinking about it for the rest of the night. 

Suguru returned to work but had to admit defeat and go home after staring at his computer and doing nothing for hours. His mind was still back at the cafe with Satoru, like he had left a tangible part of himself behind. 

When Suguru got home, the apartment was warm, the last traces of sunlight casting a soft glow over the room making everything look gentler than it really was. Dinner was already half-started; the smell of garlic and butter filled the air. Mahito stood in the kitchen, barefoot, sleeves rolled up, stirring a pot like it was second nature.

He looked up when Suguru came in, smiling with that easy, unhurried calm that Suguru had found so attractive when they first met. 

“Hey. You’re later than I expected. Long day?”

Suguru set his bag down by the door. 

“Yeah,” he said automatically, tugging off his tie. “Work was… long.”

Mahito frowned slightly then turned back to the stove, the wooden spoon clicking softly against the pan. 

“You look beat. Sit down, let me take care of you. Food’s almost done.”

Suguru did as he was told, sinking into one of the dining chairs. The room hummed with quiet domestic noise, the low boil of pasta water, the hum of the fridge, the faint patter of rain against the window. It should’ve been comforting. It was comforting.

Mahito moved around the kitchen with quiet confidence, moving from one task to the next quietly humming some song to himself as he worked. His grey-blue hair fell into his eyes spilling out of the braid that ran down his back. Suguru always thought it was such a unique color and had been surprised when Mahito had shown him pictures from his youth, hair dark as night. Despite the dye, Suguru knew it was soft to the touch and liked to run his fingers through it. 

He was the opposite of Satoru in every way. Short where Satoru was tall, both handsome but Mahito’s was ordinary and Satoru’s was ethereal. Mahito made people say ‘oh he’s a looker’ and Satoru took people’s words away entirely. Their personalities couldn’t be more different, Mahito was steady where Satoru was unpredictable, calm where Satoru sparkled.

Mahito placed a plate in front of him, breaking him out of his musing, resting a hand on Suguru’s shoulder for a moment, thumb tracing slow circles against the fabric of his shirt. 

“You’ve been tense lately,” he said softly. “Work stress again?”

Suguru forced a smile. “Yeah. Deadlines, holiday season. You know how it is.”

Mahito believed him. Of course he did. That was who he was, trusting, grounded and never suspicious. He nodded and went back to serving himself, filling the silence with easy chatter about his own day: a new client, a broken printer, the grocery store running out of decent tomatoes again.

Suguru nodded in the right places, even managed to laugh once, but his mind was still back at the café, at the way sunlight had caught on platinum hair, at the ghost of a touch still buzzing on his wrist.

He looked across the table at Mahito, at the soft curve of his smile, the unshakable steadiness of him, and guilt bloomed sharp and hot behind his ribs. Mahito was his home, his safe place that he had built after one of the darkest moments of his life. Their love was built on quiet mornings and steady evenings. He never questioned his place with Mahito, he knew exactly where he stood. He was everything Suguru should want. Everything he’d promised himself he did want.

But deep down, he missed the chaos. The heat. The electricity that had always come with Satoru’s presence, the spark that made life feel unbearable and alive all at once.

Mahito reached over, brushing a stray crumb from the corner of Suguru’s mouth with gentle fingers. “You’re really somewhere else tonight, huh?”

Suguru blinked, startled out of his thoughts. He caught Mahito’s hand before it could fall away, pressing his lips to the knuckles in an apology he couldn’t quite name. 

“Sorry,” he murmured. “Just tired. It’s been… a long day.”

Mahito smiled, squeezing his hand once before standing to refill their glasses.

“Well, you’re home now,” he said simply. “You can rest.”

Suguru nodded, but as he watched Mahito’s back turn toward the kitchen light, his chest ached with something that felt too much like loss. He was home, and he was still somewhere else entirely.

🌟*********************************************************************🌟

It was Saturday morning before he heard from Satoru again. Just a short text that came through as he was getting out of the shower. Simple, easy, he should’ve said no. He had promised Mahito they would spend the day together since they had not seen each other much all week. 

Satoru: There’s this little bookstore you’ll love. Come with me.

He stared at it for too long, body wet and dripping onto the tiles. Heat stirring in his body in a way that made him feel horribly guilty even though he had yet to do anything wrong. 

Suguru: Okay

He ran his hand down his still damp chest, breath coming quick, mind flooded with memories. Satoru spread out across his bed, eyes blazing and hair fanned out around his beautiful face. Satoru on his knees, face stuffed with his cock, tears falling from his too blue eyes. Satoru, Satoru, Satoru. 

He groaned, ashamed of himself as he reached down for his throbbing cock. He shouldn’t be thinking about him. He shouldn’t be thinking of anyone but the man sitting a room away waiting for him to get out of the shower. He dragged his hand down his stomach, gripping his firm cock in his hand. 

A knock came at the door, “Sug, you okay? Been in there awhile.”

Suguru paused his hand, thumb rubbing over the slit. He shouldn’t be doing this. His next thought was more wrong but he couldn’t stop himself as he opened the door and pulled Mahito inside the bathroom with him. 

“Sug..” Mahito started but was stopped by Suguru’s lips pressed desperately to his. He needed him. He needed him to erase the phantom in his mind. He kissed and licked and sucked at his neck, each small moan a reminder that the one he was with was not who he wanted. 

Mahito was timid in bed, rarely took any kind of control, and rarely allowed Suguru to take as much control as he wanted. Nobody had ever compared to how Satoru could completely unravel him. How Satoru would become putty beneath him, bending to each of his whims. Soft when he wanted him to be, dominate when he needed a change. 

Suguru groaned in frustration, flipping Mahito and bending him over the counter. He was shorter than Satoru, bent this way, his tiptoes barely skimmed the floor. 

“Baby, what has gotten into you,” he gasped as Suguru manhandled and positioned him the way he wanted on the counter until Mahito’s face was almost pressed against the glass mirror on the wall. 

Suguru groaned again, not trusting himself to answer with anything coherent. He spread Mahito’s cheeks, staring down at his pink puckered hole, not prepped, not ready. Suguru rubbed his cock up between his cheeks, pre-cum sliding down from the tip, slicking away the resistance. 

Suguru fumbled in the drawer under the sink, rummaging around for lube and finding none, but lotion would do. Anything. He couldn’t wait. He needed to have him now. He needed whatever this sick urge that had taken over his mind was to be wiped out. Even behind Mahito now, his cock rubbing between his cheeks, listening to Mahito’s whines, protesting against the uncomfortable position he was in, splayed out on the counter, all Suguru could think of was Satoru. 

He wanted to be here with him. He wanted to unravel him, let him unravel Suguru. He wanted passion and recklessness in bed. He was so tired of safe. So bored with missionary. He pushed two fingers in without warning and Mahito squealed under him. 

“Suguru, baby.. ..slow down..” he panted out in between moans as Suguru roughly thrusted into him with his fingers. He didn’t slow down, he rubbed one hand up and down his back while his other hand thrust into him, fingers rotating and spreading inside him, stretching him out, passing across his prostate teasingly before thrusting rough again. 

Mahito panted and whined under him, but didn’t push him away. Didn’t make any attempt to leave, perhaps relishing himself in how different it was from how they usually fucked. Suguru pushed into him in one smooth thrust and Mahito screamed, fogging up the mirror with his breath. Suguru gave him just a moment before he started fucking into him smacking his hips against the counter, his legs flailing uselessly unable to get enough purchase to give him any kind of leverage to push back. 

Mahito moaned and screamed under him, face pressed against the mirror, tears sliding out of his eyes as Suguru fucked into him relentlessly without pause, not giving him a moment to breath between hard thrusts that pushed him further into the mirror, pressed him down against the counter. His cock pressed into the counter in some mix between pain and pleasure. 

Mahito’s whole body shuddered as he came, legs shaking pitifully against Suguru’s as he continued to thrust into him seeking his own release. He finally came with a deep groan, spilling into Mahito, while eyes blue as the skies filled his mind. 

He was a horrible person. He leaned over Mahito in the aftermath, gently pulling out of him and lifting him off the counter and into his arms. He had been too rough, they did not fuck like that, not ever. They’d never fucked anywhere but a bed and he’d never been so unconcerned with Mahito’s comfort. He felt terrible. Mahito wrapped his arms around him and nuzzled into his neck. Suguru carried him into bed and sat down with Mahito still wrapped around him. 

He raised his hand up to brush damp sweat slick hair out of Mahito’s face.

“Are you okay, baby? I’m sorry. I was too rough.” Suguru apologized, truly feeling bad. He had been thinking about someone else and Mahito looked like a damaged doll in his lap. 

To his surprise, Mahito smiled, leaning back to look at him. 

“I’m good, that was really.. ..unexpected.. ..but really hot.” He blushed and nuzzled back into his neck.

“I didn’t know you liked it like that,” he whispered against his skin. 

Suguru hummed, “Sometimes.”

They sat together for a while, and then Mahito announced that he would need a nap before they went anywhere. Suguru hadn’t told him yet that he wouldn’t be going. He was going to meet Satoru, and now that his mind was clear, he would be able to set some boundaries. He had to, or he would lose them both. 

Mahito was just stirring in bed as Suguru was getting ready to leave. The lie came easy, too easy. He should feel ashamed, but he didn’t.  

“Work emergency,” he said, slipping his watch on.

Mahito, still groggy from sleep, peered at him, face still half smushed in the pillow and frowned, “On Saturday?”

“Yeah, sorry, babe.” Suguru leaned down to kiss his cheek. “Some of the images on the layout are all messed up, and they can’t figure out what went wrong. Need the boss to come fix it.”

Mahito sighed, disappointment clouding his gentle face, but he smiled anyway. “Okay. Don’t work too hard.” Then he nuzzled back into the pillow prepared to just go back to sleep. 

Suguru smiled back, a hollow forming in his stomach, twisting uncomfortably, but not enough to keep him from walking out the door.

🌟********************************************************************🌟

The bookstore was exactly the kind of place Satoru would know about, half-hidden and unmarked, like a secret waiting to be stumbled on. A hand-painted sign swung lazily in the wind, the name nearly faded to nothing. It was the kind of place someone would walk right past, never knowing the treasures it held inside.

The air inside smelled like dust and old paper, sunlight filtering through high windows in slanted gold lines that illuminated the place with a soft glow. The aisles were narrow, close enough that their shoulders brushed as they walked. The old wooden floor creaked under every step. Books were stacked on every surface, tucked into corners and piled in precarious towers that looked ready to collapse.

Satoru’s voice was soft in the hush of the place. “You used to love these kinds of stores.”

“I still do,” Suguru said, and he did. He just hadn’t realized how much until now.

Satoru reached up to pull a book down from a high shelf, the movement easy and familiar. Instantly finding a genre and topic Suguru would like as though it was built into him. Their hands brushed as Satoru passed him the book and for just a moment, Suguru’s pulse spiked. Something so simple, but from Satoru it was everything.

They moved deeper into the store, side by side, hands brushing until they finally, inevitably, found each other. Their fingers intertwined without a word. The space between them vanished. Satoru’s hand was cold and firm in his and Suguru remembered how Satoru’s hands would always find his pockets in the winter, entwining their hands in the fabric's warmth as they walked. 

Suguru brushed his thumb across the cold skin while unconsciously brushing across the ring on his other hand, a reminder that made his stomach twist with guilt. 

“Your hands are still so cold,” he said softly. 

Satoru just smiled at him, gave a little shrug and led him further into the store, exploring each section like a man that knew Suguru’s heart, knew what made him tick, what he would enjoy, what he would scoff at, what would make him laugh. All the while, he didn’t let go of Suguru’s hand, stealing his warmth until his hand wasn’t cold anymore. 

When they went to pay, Satoru beat him to it, card already out, tapping it against the reader before Suguru had even managed to dig his wallet from his pocket.

Suguru gave a quiet huff, shaking his head. “Satoru...”

Satoru just grinned, all teeth and sunlight. “It’s nothing, really. You can pay me back by joining me for dinner sometime.”

The line was too easy, too familiar, said with the same teasing warmth that used to undo him. Suguru tried to glare, but the corner of his mouth betrayed him, curving up despite himself. 

They stepped outside together. The rain had cleared, leaving everything wet and shining, the air clean, the sky pale blue where the clouds were finally breaking apart. Sunlight spilled over the street, catching in Satoru’s hair until he seemed almost unreal, haloed by it. It was ridiculous how beautiful he still was. How easy it was to forget to breathe around him.

“I had a really nice time, thanks for showing me this place,” Suguru said, and it came out softer than he intended.

“Of course,” Satoru replied. “It was nice to see you.”  No teasing lilt to his voice now, just raw honesty.  

The silence stretched, thick with all the things they didn’t say. Everything they still couldn’t say.

Suguru shifted his weight, glancing down at the damp sidewalk. He didn’t want to leave but the thought of staying felt dangerous, like standing too close to the edge of something deep.

“Well,” he said finally, “I better get home… but I’ll text you about dinner.”

Satoru smiled then, small and soft and utterly devastating. “Okay.”

Suguru’s heart stuttered. For one reckless second, he wanted to reach out, to touch the edge of that smile, to kiss him like it was still allowed. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. He was engaged. He had a life that wasn’t this anymore, that wasn’t Satoru’s.

He swallowed the impulse, forcing a faint smile of his own. “See you, Satoru.”

Satoru gave a little wave, boyish and adorable, “See you, Suguru.”

Suguru stood there watching as Satoru walked away, the sunlight trailing after him like it refused to let go. His chest ached with something he couldn’t name. Grief? Longing? Regret? Maybe all of it. 

He didn’t want him to go, and he knew he couldn’t stay.

🌟****************************************************************🌟

They planned to meet next Friday. The text exchange was as brief as it was dangerous.

Suguru: Dinner Friday?

Satoru: Absolutely.

Suguru sent the address and that was it. They didn’t text throughout the week. They didn’t have secret conversations that he had to hide. It was just a promise to see each other. Simple and complicated all at once. 

The week dragged on for Suguru, slow and heavy. Every day, his mind drifted, lost in memories, back to the years when Satoru was sunlight and laughter and everything that made life feel possible. He remembered how easily they had fit together, how Satoru had coaxed him out of the quiet corners he used to hide in, how he’d made belonging feel effortless. Satoru understood him the way nobody ever had before. He could be angry, insecure, strange, every part of him, every flaw, Satoru saw it all and loved him anyway. 

And then his mind drifted to the biggest regrets of his life, the ruins he’d built with his own hands. The jealousy that had consumed him until it devoured everything good between them. The way he’d pushed Satoru away, digging his own grave, convinced Satoru would be happier with someone else, convinced he could never be enough to keep someone bright like him. Satoru thought he had chosen someone else, but the truth was worse. Suguru had just run into the arms of someone else, lost, and drowning in his own mind. 

He still had bad days but they were managed much better now. Since they had reunited that night at the bridge he had been a lot healthier. It had been a turning point for him. Against his resistance, Satoru had saved him again. Then Mahito came into his life, steady and kind, and now those days seemed far behind him. 

But now he was in turmoil again, and it wasn’t Satoru’s fault. It wasn’t. Suguru had to set better boundaries. He had to figure out how they could be friends without it destroying his engagement. He did love Mahito, loving him was easy. He was solid, dependable and kind. He wanted to keep them both, and he wasn’t sure how he could. 

And if, some nights, when the world went quiet, he found himself imagining what it would feel like to be in Satoru’s arms again… well, he told himself it was just memory. Just nostalgia filling his heart with longing. Not temptation. Not love still lingering in his bones.

🌟************************************************************************🌟

The restaurant was nearly empty, a quiet, candlelit space tucked away on the far side of town, chosen precisely because it promised anonymity. The air smelled faintly of basil and wine. A cello hummed softly from the overhead speakers creating a romantic atmosphere. It was the kind of place frequented by couples, the kind of place to take a fiance, not a friend. But the food was incredible, and Suguru knew Satoru would lose his mind over the desserts.

They’d been sitting there for hours, the world shrinking down to this small pool of light between them. Their conversation stayed easy and careful, staying away from topics that were too heavy, topics that still bled even all these years later. They talked about old haunts, the endless rain this season and how good the food was.

Satoru started telling him a story about Megumi finally confessing to Yuji. Laughing as he recalled how the poor boy had called him in a full-blown panic, convinced he’d ruin everything and Suguru found himself laughing right along with him. Infectious and beautiful spilling over the table.

He could picture it so easily: Yuji pacing, panicking into the phone while Satoru sprawled lazily on his couch, soothing him with that lazy confidence he’d always carried. Yuji’s panic was ridiculous, really. Everyone in their circle had treated the two as a couple long before they’d figured it out themselves. There’d never been anything to worry about.

Suguru couldn’t look away from him as he talked. Laughing and joking with him and remembering how fun they all used to have together, something about it felt so right, like coming home, like stepping into the sunlight after years in the shade.

Satoru was still impossibly beautiful. Time hadn’t touched him, if anything, it made him sharper, brighter, as if the world changed to fit him instead. His skin caught the light like porcelain, perfectly unmarked by the years that had passed between them. His eyes still carried every shade of blue Suguru remembered, shades that he had never seen anywhere else and as a photographer he had searched endlessly never finding anything as beautiful as the man sitting across from him. Suguru was a fool to think he could ever build a life without him. He had been even more of a fool to think he could just be his friend. He could stare at him forever and it would never be enough.

“I shouldn’t be here,” Suguru whispered, breaking through the joy that had spread between them.

Hurt flicked across Satoru’s face, his smile falling into a grim line. He leaned forward, voice low but certain.

“Don’t go,” he said. “Stay with me instead.”

The words hung in the air like something forbidden. Suguru froze, staring at him, violet eyes wide with a shock that bordered on pain. He opened his mouth to speak, closed it again.

Satoru’s hand twitched toward him across the table, then stilled. 

Suguru shook his head, just barely. He didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t, not with Mahito waiting for him at home, not with the silver ring pressing into his skin, not with the promises he had already made. 

The waitress arrived then, setting the bill between them, shattering the spell cast by Satoru’s words. The weight remained, heavy between them. 

Suguru’s chest clenched painfully.  He wanted to close his eyes and wake up in some version of reality where things were simpler. A reality where he could say yes. Instead, he whispered, pained, as though it cost him. 

“Satoru… you know I can’t.”

The refusal hit sharper than he meant it to, and he saw it land. Satoru’s expression shifted, just a flicker, but enough to feel like the space between them had doubled in an instant. Without another word, Satoru slid out of the booth, tossing some bills onto the table for the check.

“Satoru, wait..” Suguru’s voice cracked, but Satoru didn’t stop. He was already moving toward the door, shoulders set, every line of his body braced as though to hold himself together.

Suguru couldn’t let him walk away, not again. He shoved out of the booth, nearly tripping over the seat in his hurry to catch up. He called his name again, quieter, urgent.

Satoru didn’t stop walking through the metal door and outside. That was what broke Suguru. The idea of watching him disappear, of letting this moment fracture into another goodbye, they’d never recover.

Before he could think better of it, Suguru reached him, grabbed his sleeve, and pulled. And then, without plan or hesitation, he kissed him.

It was desperate, rougher than he intended, all the pent-up years of silence and longing breaking free in a single motion. For a heartbeat, he thought Satoru might pull away. But instead, Satoru’s hand came up, cupping the back of his neck, pulling him closer.

The kiss deepened, neither of them breathing, the whole world shrinking to just this, just them.

Suguru broke it first, chest heaving, guilt slamming into him even as his lips still burned from the contact. He looked at Satoru, violet eyes wide with fear, apology, and something else, something he couldn’t hold back.

Satoru didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. The damage was done. The kiss left them shaken, both of them unsteady as they pulled apart. 

“Suguru…” Satoru’s voice was low, ragged, full of questions he didn’t dare ask here.

Suguru only shook his head, fingers still fisted in the fabric of Satoru’s sleeve, as if letting go might undo him. He didn’t answer, not with words. Instead, he gave the slightest tug, a silent plea.

And Satoru understood. 

The ride back to Satoru’s apartment was quiet, the kind of silence that hummed just beneath the soft purr of the engine. Satoru’s car was like him: sleek, expensive, flawless. The leather seats gleamed under the passing streetlights, the dashboard glinting like wet glass.

Satoru’s hand found his across the center console, his thumb brushing over the silver ring before lacing their fingers together. It was a small touch, but it stole the air from Suguru’s lungs. Neither of them pulled away.

Inside, the apartment was dim and immaculate, washed in the glow from the city lights that spilled in from the windows. Every surface gleamed, it was beautiful like everything Satoru touched, yet there was an aching emptiness to it, and for a moment the loneliness pressed against him. 

He didn’t have long to dwell on it. Satoru was there, close, fingers brushing his jaw before tilting his face up. The kiss that followed was softer this time, reverent, like Satoru was afraid Suguru might vanish if he held too tightly. He kissed him until his lips were numb with it, fingers grasping the fabric of his shirt. 

Satoru led him to the couch and they stumbled the whole way, not breaking the kiss, afraid of stopping, of breaking this bubble they had created around each other. Suguru pulled Satoru into his lap until he was straddling him, grinding down on his erection, hard and eagerly pressed up against the hard fabric of his jeans. Satoru’s hands grabbed and caressed Suguru’s skin under his shirt, mapping all the places he had once touched, all the places he had once known.

Suguru kissed him like a man possessed, like he would never be able to get enough of him. He had forgotten how good it felt to kiss Satoru, how good he was at picking him apart piece by piece, his tongue licking into his mouth claiming him, stealing his breath away.

Suguru’s mouth traced a path down his jaw, wet and sloppy, his lips and tongue dragging against skin that felt impossibly smooth. No trace of hair, no scars or marring. Just a beautiful expanse of porcelain perfection yielding to his touch and he couldn’t get enough of it. Satoru tipped his head back, exposing his throat and even more of that flawless skin that Suguru wanted to leave his mark all over.

Satoru tugged gently at the hem of Suguru’s shirt, a silent request to remove it that Suguru instantly obliged. Satoru removed his too and Suguru caught himself staring again at the perfect specimen of a man in front of him. Satoru had changed, filled out since the last time Suguru had him on his lap, his body sculpted to perfection, all long lines and grace. 

Suguru kissed and sucked down his neck, his collar bones, his chest as Satoru squirmed and whined on top of him. Every sound that passed his lips lit a fire in Suguru spurring him on so he could hear more of it. Like a melody made only for him. Satoru's skin was so beautiful, so responsive to every touch, every slide of his lips leaving small marks marring the perfection. 

In one motion, Suguru hooked his arms under Satoru’s thighs and lifted them both up from the couch. Satoru let out a gasp of surprise and then hooked his legs around him. Suguru carried them to Satoru’s bedroom and gently laid him down on the bed. The room was as immaculate as the rest of the penthouse apartment that Satoru called home. In here were traces of the man that lived inside, it made Suguru’s chest ache. 

He wanted to take his time with Satoru, wanted to worship him the way he should, the way he deserved. His cock throbbed in his pants looking down at him, face flushed, eyes half lidded, mouth partly open. God he was gorgeous, belonged in magazines or on a shelf where he could always be kept safe. 

Suguru was on him before he could think of anything else. Pressing his hips down grinding against him as they kissed. Satoru panted and whined into his mouth and he caught every one, kissing him until he felt like he couldn’t breathe without him. Until he wasn’t sure how he ever had. Satoru touched him in every way that he liked to be touched, knew his body, knew what made him crazy. 

Satoru’s hands moved to his belt undoing his pants, rubbing his palm against the hard cock he could feel through the fabric. 

“I want you Suguru,” he panted in between kisses. 

“What do you want, Satoru.” he asked, whispering in his ear, smiling as Satoru shivered and a low moan passed his lips. 

“Fuck my face, Suguru.” he replied. 

Suguru smiled again, “Jesus, fuck your so hot,” and he was kissing him again, licking into his mouth and sucking on his bottom lip. Suguru kissed his way down his stomach, leaving small marks and delighting in every whimper that passed through his lover's lips. He hooked his hands into the waistband of Satoru’s tight pants.

“Take these off,” he commanded. 

Suguru got off the bed to take his pants off and Satoru instantly shimmied out of his tight pants, throwing them on the ground. It was cute, adorable even. Suguru was going to ruin him. 

“Come here, lay your head off the edge of the bed, you remember how I like it don’t you?”

Satoru nodded, grinned and moved where he told him to. Suguru missed this. The way Satoru knew just how to please him, the way he molded and bent under his direction, always so eager to please. 

Satoru laid on the bed with his head hanging backwards titled off it. Suguru bent down and ran his fingers up and down his chest, kissing him spiderman style and leaving his lips wet and sloppy from spit. Satoru looked up at him, beautiful blue’s full of trust and something else Suguru wasn’t ready to think about.

“Fuck, you look so good like this baby.” 

Suguru brought his cock up to Satoru’s lips, and Satoru opened wide, sticking his tongue out waiting for him to slide in. Suguru teased the tip against Satoru’s tongue and Satoru flicked his tongue around the head. 

Suguru moaned and then slid into the slick wet heat of Satoru’s mouth, pushing all the way in and hitting no resistance. Watching in fascination as it bulged in Satoru’s neck. He pulled all the way out, making eye contact with Satoru once, gaining permission and the brat rolled his eyes at him. 

Suguru laughed and plunged back into his mouth. He slid in and out a few times, taking pleasure in the lack of gag reflex that allowed him to slide into the hilt. Satoru had his arms wrapped around his thighs, his hands grabbing handfuls of Suguru’s ass. He slid in slow one more time, then he was fucking into him with reckless abandon while Satoru moaned around his cock. Tears formed in his eyes, but he didn’t stop his continuous pounding knowing Satoru would’ve been pissed if he did. He dragged his cock all the way out and then fast back in until his cock head hit the back of Satoru’s throat and Satoru whined around it. 

Over and over until Satoru was squirming on the bed, his knees bent for leverage and his own hard and untouched cock leaking heavily on his stomach. Suguru stopped with his cock deep in his throat and ran his hands up and down his chest, dragging one teasing finger up Satoru’s throbbing cock. Satoru squeezed his ass hard in response. 

“Fuck baby, you feel so good. So fucking good for me baby.” 

He pulled out again, giving Satoru a chance to breath and then he was fucking into his again, every moan and whine across his cock sending shivers down his spine until he was cumming down Satoru’s throat. Satoru swallowing down every drop. He slid his cock out and almost got instantly hard again at the wrecked look on Satoru’s face. 

His face was flushed, eyes wet with tears, hair wet and plastered to his face, cheeks and forehead wet with a combination of sweat and tears. It was so fucking hot. He was so perfect, so perfect for him.

“God, Satoru,“ Suguru breathed out as he sat on the bed next to him. He carefully lifted him out of that position and pulled him into his lap. His hand idly stroked Satoru cock as his other hand stroked his hair cooing at him. 

“You did so good baby, that was so fucking amazing.” 

Satoru leaned into him and smiled, grinding his hips up into his hand. Suguru increased his strokes until Satoru tipped his head back and with a loud cry spilled into his hand. Suguru lifted his hand up to lick it off and Satoru moaned again before their lips met again, spit and cum shared between their lips.

Suguru could feel himself already getting hard again just from kissing him. Satoru felt it too, grinding down on his erection and smiling into their kiss. 

“Fuck me Suguru…please” he said his throat raw and hoarse and sexy as hell. 

How the hell was he supposed to refuse when he had asked so nicely? He couldn’t. He didn’t want to refuse. He wanted him, in every way he could have him. 

Suguru lifted him again and laid him back down on the bed, positioning himself between his legs as he lubed up his fingers to work him open. He kissed him as he worked a finger in relishing how tight he was around him. Satoru moaned against his hand, his cock filled out again and dripping wet. Suguru added another finger as he sucked on his neck, thrusting his fingers in and out and watching as Satoru fell apart beneath him. 

Suguru thrust into him, rubbing against the ball of nerves inside him until Satoru was writhing on the bed, eyes lidded, and face flushed, completely fucked out just from his fingers. He couldn’t wait to get his cock inside him.

“Fuck,” Satoru shouted as he came hard across his chest, his eyes rolling back in his head as his orgasm shocked his whole system. Suguru could come untouched just from watching him. It was hot as fuck, and the way Satoru looked at him after took his breath away. 

He had to get inside him and he knew what Satoru wanted. Suguru wanted to give him everything. Suguru lubed up his aching cock and lined up to push inside before Satoru even had a chance to come down from his high. Satoru whined on the initial push and then he relaxed fully around him, wrapping his legs around Suguru and pushing him in deeper. Suguru kissed him again and slid out until his head caught at his entrance and then pushed back in hard. 

He remembered how Satoru liked to be fucked. He liked it rough, he liked it so rough that he clocked out completely, until he ascended to some other plane that only Suguru could take him to and Suguru was going to let him have it. He thrust into him hard and fast, punishing his prostate and bending him like a pretzel until he was a panting, moaning, whining mess on the sheets. Satoru came twice before they were finished, before Suguru collapsed over him with a low grunt that came from somewhere deep within him and spilled into him.

They didn’t talk about the wrongness of what they had done, the guilt, or the promise waiting for Suguru at home. All of it faded under the gravity of finally, after years of absence, giving in to each other. At finally having each other again, the way it always should have been. When the lights went out, the shape of them tangled together in Satoru’s sheets said everything words couldn’t.

🌟**********************************************************************🌟

Hours later, they still laid together tangled in Satoru’s sheets. They had both fallen into a short nap, exhausted and spent. When they woke, the world was hushed around them, only the faint hum of the city seeping through the windows. In the dimness of Satoru’s bedroom, the two of them lay close, skin warm against skin. Suguru’s long hair spilled across Satoru’s arm, soft against him, and Satoru couldn’t stop staring, like if he blinked, this would all dissolve into a dream.

“You’ve always been it for me,” Satoru whispered, his voice unsteady. His fingers traced the edge of Suguru’s jaw, the curve of his cheek. “All this time… I couldn’t ever get over you. For so long I tried, I tried to let someone else in, but..” he shook his head, a pained smile tugging at his lips. “Nobody compares to you.”

Suguru’s chest tightened. He closed his eyes for a moment, pressing his forehead against Satoru’s like he needed the contact to steady himself. His voice was quiet when he answered.

“I carried you with me always,” he said. “Every day. Even when I thought I’d forgotten, even when I wanted to… you were still there.”

Satoru’s breath caught, his hand sliding into Suguru’s hair, threading through it carefully, reverently. 

“You don’t know how many nights I wanted to hear that,” he whispered.

Suguru opened his eyes then, violet irises catching what little light there was, and the look in them nearly undid Satoru. It was raw, unguarded love, love that had been buried but never diminished.

And then their mouths were on each other again, kisses urgent and desperate, pulling them together until there was no space left between them. Their hands held on as if they were afraid to ever let go.

🌟*********************************************************************🌟

The clock on Satoru’s wall blinked past 3:00 AM when Suguru finally tore himself away. His lips were still swollen, his shirt smelling faintly of Satoru’s cologne, his skin humming where hands had lingered too long. It had felt almost impossible to leave, a small kiss placed on Satoru’s forehead before he slinked away into the night. 

Each step down the quiet street felt heavier than the last, as though he were dragging chains behind him. The warmth of Satoru’s touch clung stubbornly to his body, a ghost he couldn’t shake.

By the time he reached his own building, the guilt had curdled in his chest. He unlocked the door as quietly as he could, the silence of the apartment pressing in around him. Mahito’s shoes were by the door, neatly set side by side. The sight made Suguru’s throat tighten.

He crept through the dim space, pausing by the bedroom. The soft rise and fall of Mahito’s breath drifted out from behind the cracked door. Suguru’s hand lingered on the frame, torn, but he couldn’t bring himself to step inside. He couldn’t lie down beside him like nothing had happened. Guilt curled in his chest until he thought he would be sick from it. 

He pulled a blanket from the hall closet and sank onto the couch, body aching with exhaustion, mind tangled in shame and longing. He curled into the cushions, the faint trace of Satoru still clinging to him, and shut his eyes against the storm inside.

Morning came too bright and too soon. Mahito’s voice was warm and sleep-soft when he found him on the couch.

“You slept out here?”

Suguru forced a smile, forearm pressed against his forehead. 

“Didn’t feel great last night. I didn’t want you to catch it.”

Mahito’s face softened instantly, worry flashing in his eyes. He touched Suguru’s arm gently. 

“You should’ve woken me… I could’ve taken care of you.”

The kindness in his tone only deepened the knife in Suguru’s chest. He nodded instead, unable to trust himself to say anything more.

Mahito didn’t question him further, just tugged the blanket tighter around Suguru’s shoulders and pressed a quick kiss to his hair before disappearing into the kitchen. The sounds of cupboards opening and water running followed, domestic and familiar, and it made Suguru’s chest ache in a different way than the night before.

Mahito came in a few minutes later, setting a mug of tea on the coffee table. He crouched beside him, eyes warm and earnest. 

“You should rest today. Don’t even think about work.”

“I can’t,” Suguru started, but Mahito cut him off with a gentle smile.

“You can. You need rest. Just… let yourself breathe, okay?” He brushed a strand of black hair from Suguru’s face, fingers lingering with quiet affection. “You work too hard.”

Suguru swallowed, nodding. Mahito didn’t demand anything of him, didn’t push him for more answers. He simply stayed by his side, sitting on the edge of the couch while Suguru leaned back against the cushions, pretending to be more tired than he was.

When Mahito stood to run errands for the day, he hesitated, then leaned down again. 

“Promise me you’ll stay put. Call me if you need anything. I’ll be gone for a bit but I’ll bring home dinner.”

Suguru managed a soft “okay.”

The door closed behind him with a click, and silence flooded the apartment again. Suguru buried his face in the blanket, inhaling fabric softener and faint traces of Mahito’s cologne. He should have felt comfort in it. Instead, all he could feel was the ghost of another scent still clinging to his skin.

🌟*********************************************************************🌟

Satoru woke late, sunlight already pressing hard against the blinds. His apartment was still and spotless, not a single thing out of place, and yet it felt heavier than usual. The sheets beside him were cool now, though he could still see the faint crease where Suguru’s body had been. He pressed a hand there, absurdly, as though he might catch the ghost of warmth left behind.

It should have felt triumphant. After all these years, after so much distance, Suguru had been in his arms again, and had kissed him like he was the only person who existed. Had whispered words Satoru had starved to hear: I carried you with me always.

And yet, there was a weight in his chest he couldn’t shake.

Because he wasn’t the only one. Suguru hadn’t come home to him. Suguru hadn’t chosen him at the end of the night. Satoru was, in every way that mattered, the other man. The one taking what didn’t belong to him.

But how could he stay away now? After years of silence, after convincing himself to live without, Suguru had slipped back into his life like a spark against dry grass, too sudden and all consuming. Last night proved it, nothing had changed. Suguru still felt like home.

Satoru pressed his palms against the counter, head bowed. He should feel guilty. He did feel guilty. He could almost see the shadow of the man Suguru went home to, faceless but steady, someone who had been there when Satoru wasn’t. Someone who had earned what he now wanted to steal.

But then, Suguru’s voice came back to him again, soft and breaking in the dark: I carried you with me always.

And that was the thing he couldn’t reconcile, that maybe, even with someone else waiting at home, Suguru still belonged to him.

🌟************************************************************************🌟

Chapter Text

🌟******************************************************************🌟

Present Day

Suguru spent the next few days trying to forget what he had done. He went to work, came home to Mahito, and tried to rebuild some kind of normal routine out of the ruins of his life. He was present, engaged, laughing in all the right places. He helped with dinner, didn’t work late, said I love you in all the moments he was supposed to and all the while was trying, trying, trying to forget. 

Satoru felt like a magnet under his skin. A siren calling him across the city. He couldn’t stop thinking about what it felt like to be with him again. He remembered the warmth, how it felt like stepping into the light after years of standing in the darkness. He thought of how he could remember every contour of his body, every pulse point, every heartbeat, every gasp, every tantalizing inch, like a language he had always known how to speak. 

It felt good, it felt right. It felt like coming home.

That was the worst part, how right it felt to be with him again. The guilt ate away at his conscience. Mahito was kind and steady, a safe harbor he had landed against after sinking to one of the lowest points of his life. Two years ago, he had wanted to die, and the universe had intervened, putting Satoru in that exact place at that exact time. What were the odds? Was it fate? Divine cruelty? Even in a fog of dissociation, Satoru was a reminder.. ..of the beautiful things in life and that there was light, if he just held on a little longer. 

He thought of Satoru the whole night after returning from the bridge, and the next day, and the next. But he was weak, too broken to try reaching out to Satoru, too messed up to even consider trying to fix the damage between them, the damage that he had caused. 

Two months later, a work assignment sent him out of town and he met Mahito. Mahito was light and funny and they clicked right from the start. They spent two weeks together and by the end of it, they were inseparable. Mahito saw his darkness and didn’t run, he stayed, he helped, he was strong when Suguru wasn't. 

When Mahito had asked him to marry him, Suguru had been quick to say yes. It seemed right, it made sense. They got along so well. They had great chemistry, and all Suguru’s friends liked him. Suguru could see a future with him, a life worth living, and for the first time in a long time, he dreamed of it. He wanted it, worked towards it. 

He stopped imagining a world where Satoru would ever belong to him again. The hurt between them was too deep, too raw, still, even after years of no contact. Even friendship seemed impossible, too dangerous. Something that would bring up too many old scars, something that would eventually just hurt them both. 

He never thought their paths would cross again but he was a fool. Satoru was a storm, beautiful and deadly and impossible to forget. Suguru had allowed himself to be caught in it, arms open, standing in the rain and now he was drowning. Now he was haunted by that choice. Every day, Satoru lingered in the back of his mind, calling him back home to a place he was no longer allowed to visit. 

By Thursday the hours were dragging on, his composure slipping. The sounds of the ticking clock on the wall grating on every nerve. He tried to focus on his work, editing, emails, meetings but his mind had already drifted away strumming the chords to a song he had thought forgotten, Satoru. Satoru. Satoru.

He didn’t plan for it, yet when the day ended he found his feet walking the familiar path, not home, but to the only place his heart wanted to go. He stood in front of Satoru's door reciting a hundred reasons why he shouldn’t knock. Why he should turn around and go home. Mahito’s voice rang in his head, his trust, the promises they made to each other. 

But his hand was already lifting, already rapping softly against the wood, and then the door was swinging open.

Satoru didn’t ask why he was there. He didn’t ask why there had been silence since their night together. The look in his eyes said everything, longing, relief, desire for someone, something that was no longer his to hold. The air between them was alive, buzzing like static in his ears.

Satoru stepped aside, and Suguru stepped in.

The apartment was quiet, low-lit, carrying that faint scent of Satoru’s cologne mixed with something sweet that was distinctly Satoru. Suguru’s heart beat traitorously in his chest, his longing palpable.

For a moment they both just stood in silence, the quiet holding everything they couldn’t say, all the reasons they shouldn’t be here together. Both pretending they weren't drawn together, acting as though there should be hesitation, something keeping them from crashing together when in truth, there was none.

Satoru’s hand brushed his in the hallway, just a fleeting graze of knuckles. Small enough to be denied, if either of them wanted to. Suguru caught it, his fingers curling over Satoru’s without a second thought bringing him to stop. Mere inches between them in the short hallway, dimly lit but the lack of light just accentuated Satoru’s beauty, only made his own light shine brighter. Shadows hitting under his cheekbones defining the lines of his face, light glinting off the gloss on his lips, his eyes a prism of blue staring at him in open, honest, unrestrained desire.

The moment between them cracked open. 

Suguru leaned in until there was no space left between them. Their mouths met with a force that stole the air from the room..hungry, familiar and devastating. Satoru’s breath hitched, a soft sigh against Suguru's lips and the sound alone was enough to undo him.

Satoru pressed him back against the wall, not rough but certain, like he had dreamed this exact moment too many times to mess it up now when he had the real thing right here in front of him. Suguru’s hands fisted in his shirt, tugging him closer, his long dark hair spilling forward like a curtain as he kissed Satoru harder, deeper, as if he could close the wound of years apart with his lips alone.

They moved together through the apartment, colliding into the couch, the edge of the counter, laughing breathlessly against each other’s mouths between the rush of kisses. Suguru’s hands slid up Satoru’s shirt, palms skimming over heat and muscle before sweeping the fabric up and over his head. His fingers pressed against the faint mark on his collarbone, a reminder of their last night together. 

For a moment, there was hesitation, a last defense, a moment to reconsider, call it all off, to go home. Then Satoru leaned in and was kissing him again, deeper this time as though to silence any doubts. 

His hands threading through Suguru’s hair, pulling him closer, small gasps escaping as Suguru continued his exploration, his mouth trailing down his throat, along his collarbone, tongue gliding over almost healed bruises, marking them anew. The taste of salt and skin, the sound of soft breaths overwhelming his senses. 

Satoru laughed, the sound light and breathless as they almost tumbled over a small table on the way to his bedroom. Suguru's hands dropped down to Satoru’s thighs, hooking under his legs and lifting him up effortlessly. Satoru’s arms wrapped around his neck, his hands curling into his hair, his legs locked around his waist. 

“I’ve always loved it when you do that,” he said breathlessly.

Suguru smiled and kissed him again, “I know.”

He carried him through the rest of the apartment, their lips rarely parting, Satoru's hands mapping the outlines of Suguru’s skin, rediscovering every piece of him. Every touch both brand new and achingly familiar. Both sin and homecoming.

Suguru sat on the edge of the bed, Satoru repositioned on his lap, straddling him. His lips kiss bitten and red, breath still uneven. The room was quiet except for their breathing and the soft hum of the city in the distance.

Satoru leaned back to look at him and for a moment Suguru forgot how to breathe. He’d spent years trying to forget this face, and time had tried to dull him. To soften him in his memories, but here he was again, vivid and clear. Suguru thought he had never looked more beautiful. Satoru had always been almost unreal.

“You’re so beautiful,” Suguru whispered. 

Satoru tilted his head, a small smile curling the corner of his mouth, uncertainty flickering in his luminous eyes, “Show me.”

Suguru did. His fingers traced the lines of Satoru’s face, over the arch of his brow, down the slope of his nose, across the soft line of his cheek. He kissed each place his fingers had lingered, his forehead, his temple, the bridge of his nose, the corner of his mouth. 

Satoru closed his eyes and exhaled, the sound more sigh than breath. Suguru’s touch moved lower, fingertips gliding down his arms, tracing each line, each scar, each slender finger as though memorizing him all over again.

Satoru melted into him, shoulders loosening, head tipping forward until their foreheads met. Every touch like a lock being opened, a signal that it was okay to let go. A silent promise whispered through skin and breath.. Here, you are safe. Here, you are wanted. Here, you are loved.

🌟*****************************************************************🌟

The room was quiet except for the sound of their breathing, slowing from ragged gasps into something steady. Satoru lay on his side, one arm draped across Suguru’s chest, fingers splayed as if to hold him there, to make sure he wouldn’t slip away. Suguru’s long hair fanned over the pillow, strands sticking to his damp skin, violet eyes half-lidded but still catching the low light.

Neither spoke at first. The silence wasn’t empty, it was thick, fragile, as though words might break the spell. But it couldn’t hold forever.

“All this time, I never understood what happened between us,” Satoru whispered finally, his voice hoarse, almost reverent. His thumb brushed over Suguru’s ribs, a gentle stroke.

Suguru’s breath caught, his lips parting like he wanted to explain it, defend his reasoning, but he wasn’t sure he could. He turned, pressing his forehead to Satoru’s, the closeness dizzying. “I was lost, my own worst enemy. I couldn’t see a reality where we could just be together.”

Satoru sounded almost broken when he asked, “Why?”

“I don’t know. Depression, jealousy, a wicked combination of both. When I look back, when I try to remember, it's like I’m looking at someone else’s life.”

Satoru swallowed, emotion swelling so sharp it ached. Satoru leaned in and kissed him slow and lingering. Suguru’s hand came up to cradle his jaw, holding him there, returning the kiss with a depth that said everything he couldn’t put into words.

When they broke apart, Suguru let out a shaky laugh that wasn’t really laughter at all. “I don’t even know how we’re here again. How I let this happen.”

Satoru shook his head, silencing him with another kiss, softer this time. “Don’t think about that. Not now. Just..  ..be here. With me.”

And Suguru, despite the war still waging somewhere deep inside him, closed his eyes and surrendered to the moment. To Satoru. To the truth of a love that had never really gone away.

Satoru’s fingers traced idle shapes on Suguru’s arm, feather-light, like he was memorizing him all over again. The silence between them wasn’t strained, just heavy with all the years they’d lost. Finally, Satoru broke it.

“Do you still talk to anyone?” he asked, voice quiet in the dark. “From back then, I mean.”

Suguru tilted his head slightly against the pillow, violet eyes distant as he thought. “Yeah… Sukuna. We check in, make sure the other’s still alive, you know how it is.” A faint smile tugged at his mouth. “And Choso, Yuki. But it's hard to coordinate schedules, you know?” He paused for a moment, “And Shoko.”

Satoru stiffened a little, but Suguru’s tone softened, reassuring. “She and I.. ..we stayed friends. It was really hard at first, confusing, but she never stopped caring about me and I couldn’t just.. ..let her go. We don’t.. ..we never did again. After that day when you..saw ..I never could again. But we stayed friends. She knows I can’t give her what she wanted and over time I think those feelings just shifted to something else ya know?”

Satoru studied him, brushing a strand of hair from Suguru’s face. He looked like he wanted to ask more and closed his eyes for a second as though willing the questions away. Suguru lamented the loss of staring into his beautiful blues. 

After a stretch of silence, Satoru opened his eyes, cleared his throat. “Your mom? How’s she doing?”

Suguru froze and the silence stretched between them again. It was still hard to talk about.

“She.. ..passed away a couple years ago. Heart attack, one moment she was here, happy and laughing, and the next she was just.. ..gone.”

“I’m so sorry Suguru,” Satoru said, placing a kiss on his chest. “She was always so kind to me.”

“She loved you,” Suguru said with a chuckle, “She told me I was dumb as can be.. ..in those exact words, when we broke up.. ….back then…I think she always knew..” he stopped talking for a while and Satoru didn’t fill the silence. They just laid together, both likely flooded with the same memories of their youth, of the life they used to share together. 

“It was a big reason why you found me on that bridge actually… …her dying I mean.. ..it was hard for me to see the other side of it. Everything was overwhelming.” 

“I didn’t think we were going to talk about that,” Satoru said quietly

Suguru huffed and laughed, “It was kind of a big deal, you know. I wanted to die, Satoru.” he paused, brushing fingers through Satoru’s hair. “ Seeing you was like.. ..I don’t even know how to explain it.. ..it was like.. ..I could breathe again. I had spent so long not caring about anything and suddenly all I wanted was for you to be safe.. ..It was so strange.. ..but seeing you again..it was like I could find a reason to stay.”

Satoru’s breath caught and he shifted closer, pressing his body against Suguru’s until there was barely any space between them. “And now? Are things okay?”

Suguru hesitated and looked away, gaze unfocused on the ceiling. “Some days are better than others.” His voice was low, raw. “I still… struggle. I still go to therapy. I still take my meds. I still have nights where I think about just… disappearing.”

Satoru’s face paled. He kissed Suguru’s temple, a small desperate gesture. “Don’t say that. Please..”

“I’m not saying it to scare you,” Suguru interrupted gently. “It’s just the truth. Some days I want to give up. Some days I don’t. I’ve learned to keep going anyway. Even when it hurts.”

They sat with that for a while, the weight of it settling over both of them. Neither of them having much else to add. The memory sat heavy, it probably always would.

“And your sisters?” Satoru asked, eyes brightening at the memory of them as kids.. ..the Valentine Nanako gave him that Satoru still had tucked in a shoe box somewhere, and letting the two of them run amuck through his parents mansion so he could be alone with Suguru.

Suguru huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “Almost adults now. Graduating next spring. Still ridiculous. Still a handful. They moved back to the coast after mom.. ..but they’re excited to move back for Uni next fall.”

Satoru gave a small smile, tugging him closer, forehead to forehead. “You can tell them I said hello.”

“I wouldn’t..you did promise Mimiko a car when she turned 16, she’s going to want you to pay up!” Suguru said with a short laugh.

Satoru tipped his head back and laughed, bright and airily, filling the darkness.

For a moment, it felt like they were back in some younger, simpler time. Like the years in between hadn’t stolen anything. Like it had always been them, here, talking in the dark, trading small truths as though they had forever.

Suguru’s chest ached with it, with the fragile joy of being seen, really seen. He pressed his lips to Satoru’s softly, as if the kiss could say the rest.

Suguru shifted, his hand sliding across Satoru’s chest as he studied him in the dim glow of the city lights leaking past the curtains. His voice was low, almost hesitant. 

“What about you? You still talk to anyone? Old friends?”

Satoru hummed, considering. “Yeah. Still talk to Choso and Yuki pretty regularly.  Just had lunch with them a couple weeks ago. Still talk to Yuji of course, and Megumi who still just tolerates me.” he added with a chuckle.

“He loves you,” Suguru assured him. 

Satoru hummed and nuzzled into Suguru’s chest.

Suguru’s throat tightened. He almost didn’t ask, but the name slipped out anyway. “…Toji?”

The jealousy in his chest was old, familiar, and he hated how it still felt sharp.

“No.” Satoru’s answer came quick with no hesitation. “We never really spoke again after he tried to kiss me.” He paused for a moment and then continued softer,  “I was just… so tired of people being fake, Suguru. Always wanting something from me, always playing some game. It’s still like that, even now. Nobody just wants.. ..me.”

Suguru exhaled slowly, something inside him splintering at the firm dismissal. He had been so obsessed with Satoru’s friendship with Toji, it had consumed his mind. It had all just been nothing, a figment of his disease. It was harrowing. He had destroyed his whole relationship with Satoru over it.

“I do. I want you,” Suguru said softly.

Satoru shook his head, “Don’t say that.. ..please..not when..” he sighed from somewhere deep within him.

Silence filled the space again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was threaded with longing. 

Suguru’s thumb brushed absently across Satoru’s skin. “What about work?”

Satoru gave a humorless little laugh. “It’s fine. CEO. top of the game right?” he smiled but it was thin, strained. “I mean, it was always going to be me, wasn’t it? From the start. I was stupid to ever think there was another choice”

“You're not stupid,” Suguru whispered, not without a pang of sadness at the inevitability in his voice. “And physics? You used to light up every time you talked about it.”

Satoru smiled genuinely. “I still got my PhD. Accelerated when I transferred. But I don’t really use it. For a moment, I almost.. ..I mean the research I did was..but.. ..anyway.. ..it doesn’t matter.. It just didn’t pan out. Nobody at our shareholder meetings cares about quantum mechanics.”

Suguru blinked, staring at him in awe. “PhD? That’s amazing, Satoru. God, you were always so brilliant.”

Satoru’s expression softened, touched by the unguarded admiration. He leaned in, brushing their noses together.

But Suguru wasn’t done. “What about your brother? Do you see him at all? Is he… mad at you? That you did what he couldn’t?”

Satoru went quiet for a moment. “Yeah. We talk sometimes. He loves me, I’m sure, but… it’s different now. We live in different worlds, Suguru. We always will.”

Suguru’s chest ached at the resignation in his voice. “That sucks, Satoru. I’m sorry.”

Satoru only shrugged, like it didn’t matter, though his eyes betrayed the weight of it. The loneliness that he carried around like a second skin.

Suguru hesitated, then quietly asked the question that mattered the most, “Are you happy?”

Satoru held Suguru’s gaze, steady and certain. “I am right now.”

Suguru’s breath caught, and before he could answer, Satoru was kissing him again pouring everything he felt into it, as if this kiss was the only truth of any significance.

🌟*****************************************************************🌟

Around three in the morning, Suguru slipped out of Satoru’s apartment, heart hammering in his chest. The city was quiet, his skin tingling with the warmth of touches he hadn’t wanted to leave behind. Every step home felt like walking deeper into betrayal.

When he finally unlocked the door and crept inside, the silence of the house pressed down on him. The familiar stillness, the sense of safety was gone. He had abandoned it. Every creak of the floorboards sounded like a quiet accusation.

He padded to the hall closet, hand brushing over the blankets out of habit, but no.. ..he couldn’t use the same excuse again. It was bad enough that he was coming home so late. Mahito would already have questions and Suguru only had to tell the truth, and all this sneaking would be done.

He opened their bedroom door as softly as possible, holding his breath as though Mahito might wake at the sound of his guilt.

In the dark, he peeled off his clothes, each layer peeling away like evidence. His hands trembled as he tugged on pajamas, and slid under the covers. His skin was still warm, still held the faint echo of Satoru’s touch.

Mahito stirred but didn’t wake, only shifting closer on instinct, warmth pressing to Suguru’s side, steady, unguarded and trusting. Suguru’s heart twisted so sharply he almost gasped. He stared at the ceiling, the shadows shifting with the slow approach of dawn. His body was betraying him, his skin still alive with the ghost of another man. Would Mahito smell it on him? Feel it in the way he hesitated to breathe? 

Mahito nuzzled close, his lips brushing Suguru’s shoulder, soft, loving and blissfully unaware. Suguru froze. The kiss trailed into another, the unspoken invitation unmistakable.

And Suguru.. …coward, coward, coward..didn’t refuse. Say something!

He couldn’t. He let Mahito touch him. Let him move closer. His body obeyed, automatic, while his mind screamed against it, splintered with shame. Every caress felt like a lie, every sigh he gave was borrowed from somewhere else, still echoing with Satoru’s name.

Mahito whispered his name once, low and tender, and it shattered him. Suguru kissed him back, shaking, heart sick and hollow, because what else could he do? He felt stuck and knew nothing had changed. Deep inside, he was the same screw-up as he was in college. He would still hurt anyone who got too close, crippled by indecision. 

When it was over, Mahito fell asleep again easily, arm draped over Suguru’s chest like nothing had happened because for him nothing unusual did. But Suguru stayed awake, staring into the gray light creeping through the blinds, his body warm, his soul cold. Realization dawning for the first time since this whole mess with Satoru started, he was in too deep and once again, destroying himself over it.

🌟*********************************************************************🌟

The first thing Satoru noticed when he woke was the empty space beside him. Sheets rumpled, pillow still faintly warm, but Suguru was gone. Again.

He lay there a long time, staring at the ceiling, a familiar ache coiling in his chest. He hated waking up alone. Always had. He’d told himself it was just a quirk, something about silence he couldn’t stand, but now he knew it was because mornings were supposed to be shared. 

He wanted Suguru there. He wanted to wake to his face soft in sleep, to press a kiss against his shoulder and hear him mumble something groggy but content. He wanted to stumble into the kitchen together, brew coffee, make him breakfast, kiss him silly just because he could.

It should have been him with the ring on his finger, with the promise made.

Instead, Satoru rolled over into nothing, biting back the bitterness that burned at his tongue. He understood why Suguru couldn’t stay. He had someone waiting at home. Someone who loved him, who he’d promised himself to. Satoru had known this from the start. And still, each time he woke to emptiness, he couldn’t help but feel robbed of something that should have been his all along.

He buried his face in his hands, dragging in a shaky breath. The guilt pressed in now, sharp and undeniable. Mahito. Suguru’s fiancé. The man who held the space Satoru wanted, the place in his life Satoru couldn’t claim without tearing everything apart. It wasn’t fair. Not to Mahito, not to Suguru, not even to himself. They couldn’t keep doing this, stealing hours, sneaking touches, pretending the rest of the world didn’t exist.

And yet, as much as he told himself it had to stop, he knew if Suguru called again, if he showed up at his door, he’d let him in without hesitation. Because no matter how wrong it was, Suguru was still the only one he’d ever wanted.

🌟******************************************************************🌟

Mahito had been waiting all week. He caught Suguru in the kitchen Saturday morning, sunlight slipping through the blinds. Suguru was still soft from sleep, hair mused, mug half full of coffee when Mahito stepped closed wrapping his hands around his waist.

“Can we… spend the weekend together? No work, no excuses. I miss you.”

Suguru’s chest tightened with guilt, the words hitting harder than they should. He swallowed down before it could show on his face. He nodded quickly, forcing a small smile. “Yeah. Of course. Just us.”

And he meant it, at least, he wanted to.

But hours later, as they wandered through the farmer’s market hand in hand, Suguru’s thoughts kept slipping away.  The air was rich with the smell of baked bread and ripe fruit, laughter echoing between the stalls, but it all felt far away, like listening through water. He kept thinking about another morning, another touch, another hand that had once fit perfectly into his own. Satoru’s.

He thought about the way Satoru’s arms had wrapped around him in the dark, steady and warm, like a promise he’d been waiting his whole life to keep. The way Satoru breathed his name like it was something holy. 

He tried to shake it off, to focus on Mahito beside him. Mahito who smiled easily, who leaned close to point out fresh flowers at a stall.

“You remember when I brought home those beautiful Dahlia’s and ruined your whole weekend.” Mahito asked with a smile. 

“I’m allergic,” Suguru said with a laugh. He leaned in and kissed Mahito’s cheek because that’s what love was supposed to look like. But even as he did, he could feel the fracture inside him widen, splintering into something sharp, something unfixable. 

By the afternoon, Mahito had coaxed him into the park. They sat under a tree with takeout, Mahito rambling about a show he wanted to watch together, about future trips, about the life they were building. He could just say it. He could just tell him. Instead, Suguru nodded along, laughed at the right moments while his chest felt hollow.

His phone buzzed. A message from Satoru. He hadn’t seen him in a week. No texts. Nothing. Just silence. He knew why. He knew why Satoru didn’t reach out. Why he wasn’t more casual with him. The absence ached anyway.

Satoru: Dinner tonight? My place. We should talk.

He barely had time to read it twice before Mahito leaned over to glance. Suguru’s thumb darted to lock the screen, shoving the phone into his pocket.

“Work?” Mahito asked.

Suguru forced a smile. “Yeah. Nothing important.”

But it was. God, it was.

He knew he couldn’t be in two places at once. Couldn’t keep splitting his heart in two, couldn’t keep lying to Mahito while yearning for Satoru. Mahito’s arm slid around his shoulders again, grounding and gentle. A simple touch, it almost broke him.

By the time evening fell, Mahito had made it clear he wanted a night in. He’d picked out a movie, had wine breathing on the counter, even lit the candles he knew Suguru liked.

Suguru sat on the edge of the couch, phone heavy in his palm. Satoru’s last message glowed on the screen. 

His heart twisted. He looked at Mahito, who was padding barefoot through the kitchen, humming under his breath. This was the home he had built, everything he had once wanted.

Yet the ache inside him was loud, calling to him across the distance. Satoru wanted to talk and he had to know what he wanted to say.

“Hey..babe..” Suguru said, voice thin. “I just got a message from the office. Something came up, some files are all messed up, and they need them print-ready for the Sunday edition. It should only take a couple of hours. I’m really sorry.”

Mahito stilled, the corkscrew in his hand tightening. He turned slowly, searching Suguru’s face. “On a Saturday night?”

Suguru nodded quickly, already standing, reaching for his jacket. “Yeah. I know. I’ll hurry. Promise.”

For a long moment, Mahito said nothing. He just stared at the corkscrew in his hands

“Can’t someone else do it?” he asked and his voice was soft, almost aching. 

Suguru’s chest ached at the gentleness in his voice. He walked over and pressed a quick kiss to Mahito’s cheek. “I’m sorry, I won’t be long.”

Mahito didn’t lean into it the way he usually would. He only nodded, eyes on the counter as Suguru squeezed his shoulder once and slipped out the door.

His heart hammered in his chest as he walked out the door. He could feel it, the hurt he left behind. How did it compare to the hurt he was walking into? Which one mattered more? Why couldn’t he stop hurting the people he loved?

Suguru stood in front of Satoru’s door frozen in indecision. He should turn around and go home. He should pack his bags and move to Africa. Anything, anything besides knocking on this door. He knocked anyway. 

Satoru opened the door, lovely as always in simple sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt that slid slightly off one shoulder. Satoru didn’t say anything, just smiled, soft and tired and grabbed his jacket pulling him inside. 

Dinner was waiting, simple and warm. They ate at the table like old times, like nothing was wrong in the world. Like nothing was wrong with them. Suguru laughed, Satoru teased, and for a while it was so easy that Suguru almost believed they could live in this safe little bubble forever.

But as the plates sat empty and the conversation drifted, the quiet grew heavier. Satoru leaned back in his chair, eyes fixed on Suguru in a way that made his chest tighten.

“Suguru…” His voice was low, careful. “We can’t keep doing this.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean this.. ..us. The way it is right now.” Satoru’s hands curled loosely together on the table. “It hurts. It’s painful to wake up alone, to watch you go home to someone else. I know I’ll never have all of you, it’s too late for us.” he paused for a long moment, “But this is not fair. Not to me, not to him, not even to you.”

Suguru opened his mouth but nothing came out. Satoru was right. He knew it, he had known it all along. But the thought of letting him go again was unbearable.

“I don’t know what to say,” Suguru whispered.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Satoru said, his voice soft. “But I can’t keep pretending this is enough for me when I want so much more.”

Silence stretched between them. Heavy and painful. Suguru reached across the table, fingers brushing Satoru’s hand, light and trembling. One touch, and the air shifted, gravity pulling them toward each other as inevitable as the tide.

Satoru came around the table and sat in his lap,  his hands cupping Suguru’s face, the kiss that followed wasn’t desperate, it was mournful. The kind of kiss that tasted like endings. 

It wasn’t long before they were tangled in sheets, mouths desperate, hands clinging, the conversation forgotten but not erased. The weight of their words made everything sharper, like each kiss was a plea, each breath a promise they couldn’t keep. Cementing their doom with the sweetest ache.

When it was over, Suguru didn’t stay. He couldn’t. He pressed one last kiss to Satoru’s temple, whispered nothing he could stand behind, and left into the night.

By the time he slipped quietly into his own home, Mahito was already in bed, the wine glasses rinsed, the candles blown out. Suguru changed in the dark and slid beneath the covers, staring at the ceiling while guilt pressed heavy in his chest. Mahito stirred faintly beside him, unaware, and Suguru closed his eyes against the weight of it all, holding two hearts in his hands and shattering them both. 

Chapter Text

Chapter 19 Present Day

Choso wasn’t expecting to be pulled into Suguru’s mess. Sure, he liked Mahito, though they weren’t exactly friends. Suguru was his friend though so he would always try to help, he just wasn’t sure what he was getting himself into.

The whole friend group had been surprised when Suguru announced his engagement after only six months of dating. Suguru hadn’t seriously dated anyone in years, not since Satoru. After that heartbreak, he had become a bit of a playboy, carefree and charming but never invited anyone in and never stayed long enough for anyone to get attached. Choso assumed that was just who Suguru had become and to him it made sense.. ..when you lose the love of your life, maybe nobody else ever quite measures up.

They could see immediately that it was different with Mahito. Maybe it was about being seen, being accepted. Suguru was going through a dark time after his mom passed when he met Mahito. Maybe without Satoru, he needed a different guiding light, a new one. And Mahito was good for Suguru, there was real love there, at least on Mahito’s side. They made sense together. 

Still, it was strange at first when Mahito first came around. Suguru seemed to change overnight, talking about the future and settling down. Talking about building a family, about building a life. They’d moved in together after only two months which was pretty fast, sure, but who was Choso to judge? He’d been in exactly one relationship his whole life and somehow lucked out that his first girlfriend also turned out to be his soulmate.

Now Yuki was six months pregnant, and Choso was both nervous and impossibly thrilled about becoming a father. He was sitting on the couch with her that evening, hands resting on her belly as they waited for the baby’s next kick, when his phone buzzed.

“Mahito wants to meet for lunch,” he told her, glancing at the screen.

Yuki hummed, brow furrowing slightly. “Hope everything’s alright.”

They agreed to meet him that Saturday afternoon, and if Mahito was reaching out to him then everything was definitely not alright.

🌟***********************************************************************🌟

Saturday arrived gray and cold, blurring the world around them as Choso held the umbrella low over Yuki as they walked. She moved slower these days but still with that easy grace he had always loved. Age had not touched her and pregnancy seemed to just enhance her natural beauty. She was radiant and flawless. Her honey-blonde falling down her back in a braid with loose pieces falling out around it. She smiled at him as they walked, not bothered at all by the extra weight she carried. 

He opened the café door and guided her in, the warmth of the cafe a welcome relief from the cold. Mahito was already waiting inside at a table. He stood when he saw them, his hair tied back away from his face and his expression filled with worry.  

“Hey,” Choso greeted, shaking his hand before Yuki offered her usual gentle hug, made only slightly awkward by her growing abdomen.

They ordered coffee and made small talk for a while. The three of them had never really hung out before and the silences were awkward. Yuki, noticing Mahito’s distress, broke through it.  

“Is something bothering you Mahito?” she asked softly.

Mahito rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, I’m not sure how to even say this. Suguru’s been… different. He says he’s working late and I know his job can be a lot, but even when he’s home it's like he isn’t really there.” He paused for a moment, taking a deep breath before continuing, “I know he’s struggled before with depression and I just.. ..if it's happening again, I don’t want to miss the signs.” 

Choso met Yuki’s eyes over the table. “It could be,” he said slowly. “Suguru gets those lows sometimes. But he’s been a lot better about reaching out than he used to be.  ”

Yuki nodded. “Plus, he’s got you. That matters, even if sometimes it might feel like it doesn’t.”

Mahito exhaled, shoulders slumping a little. “You haven’t noticed anything else? Anything that might explain why he feels so far away?”

Choso hesitated. Yeah, he knows. Suguru acting distant, working late. He didn’t like the sound of any of it….He’d also seen Satoru a few weeks back, Satoru, who’d sworn that he and Suguru were “just talking again.” Just friends. Sure. While in the next breath admitting that he’d never loved anyone else. It was college all over again and Choso hated being caught in the middle.

“Has Suguru mentioned anything new lately?” he asked carefully.

Mahito frowned. “Not really. Just… he seems distracted, you know? Like something’s on his mind but he won’t tell me about it.”

Choso took a slow sip of coffee, not sure how to ask but knowing that he had to. At least, maybe it would help Mahito talk to Suguru.. ..if he knew.

“Have you ever met Satoru?”

Mahito’s brows pulled together. “The name’s familiar. Suguru's ex, right?”

Choso nodded, “Yeah. He moved back recently. I just wondered if maybe they’d crossed paths.”

Mahito’s frown deepened. “Would that matter? Would it really affect him that much? He’s just an old college boyfriend right?”

Yuki spoke gently before Choso could answer. “They went through a lot together. Sometimes when the past resurfaces, it stirs things up. Old memories. Not necessarily anything bad, but I can see how that might affect him.”

Mahito tried to smile, to smooth the reaction off his face but the name Satoru stuck in his chest like a stone. He remembered it from those early conversations with Suguru, back when everything was still light and new and harmless. 

Yuki reached across the table and took his hand. “Don’t overthink it. Whatever’s going on, it probably doesn’t have much to do with you. He can get lost in his head sometimes. Just… ..just talk to him.” 

Mahito nodded, “Okay.” He started moving to leave, gathering his bag and coat.

“Thanks for meeting with me, I didn’t really know who to talk to.” 

“Of course, anytime.” Yuki said.

They watched him leave. Yuki grabbed Choso’s hand and squeezed it before letting out a small sigh, “Oh, Suguru…”

🌟******************************************************************🌟

The silence from Satoru stretched into a week. No texts. No calls. No stolen nights creeping through city streets at 3 AM. 

Satoru was out of town, he had told him of his upcoming trip the last time they saw each other. Flying away on some business trip, full of meetings and shareholders, his empire that only he could command. Suguru tried to imagine it but it seemed like a hollow world, lonely, full of faceless people where Satoru was the only one who shined. 

When Satoru was away, Suguru could almost convince himself that his life could be simple again. His choice was obvious, the ring on his finger a constant reminder of a promise he already made. It was easier when those searing blue eyes weren’t on him, when they weren’t staring right through him, seeing him in a way nobody else ever had, reminding him what it felt like to be loved so deep that it eclipsed everything else. 

With Satoru gone, it was easier to slip back into the peaceful rhythm of his life with Mahito. Dinners together, wedding plans, and easy laughter filled their apartment. Maybe it wasn’t an all consuming love, maybe it didn’t make his blood burn and his soul dance..  ..but it was safe. It was soft, and careful, and kind.

Mahito seemed happy. Suguru should have been happy too. He wished he was. He wanted to be, he wanted this life to be enough. But every time Mahito’s hand brushed his, every time lips touched his neck or their legs tangled in bed, the guilt burrowed deeper. 

He smiled, he tried to convince himself it was what he wanted, he tried to let himself be loved. Inside he was rotting. He still felt the ghost of Satoru’s fingers, his lips, his voice, like a constant melody in his head. He felt sick with it, trapped and starving for something he had no right to want. 

He could’ve had a whole life with Satoru but he had given it up and he had years to get over it, to get over him. Distance had been his friend, it had allowed him to forget but he never really got over it. He just buried his feelings like he always does and now.. ..now all he wanted was to make up for all the lost time. But Satoru wasn’t here. Mahito was. Mahito, his fiance.

It was such a tangled mess and all he wanted was to be free of it. He felt like he was constantly anxious, waiting for the ball to drop. Waiting for the truth to come out. His anxiety reached a fever pitch when Mahito mentioned that he had met up with Choso and Yuki.  Why? Nobody told him they were meeting. Was it about him? It had to be. The thought of them sitting there talking about him, dissecting him.. ..God, what did they say?

He kept his face still, even smiled a little as Mahito told him about it. About how big Yuki was getting and how Choso doted on her the whole time. And then Mahito said it, casually throwing it out,

“They mentioned Satoru was back in town.”

The name hit like a slap. He  fought not to flinch but his chest felt hollow.

“They did?” Suguru asked.

Mahito nodded. “You didn’t mention it.”

Suguru forced a smile that felt like glass splintering. “Oh..yeah. Well, I ran into him at that gala a couple months ago. I guess it just slipped my mind. He’s back running everything at Gojo Enterprises, I guess.”

He wanted to scream the truth. But Mahito was looking at him with such open trust, such certainty, that Suguru couldn’t bear to shatter it. This should be what he wanted. He could make himself want it. He just had to forget about Satoru.

“We just talked briefly,” he added, voice airy. “It was weird for a second, you know? First time I’d seen him in years.”

“It’s not bothering you?” Mahito asked gently. “Having him around again?”

“Nah, babe. It’s nothing. We don’t really move in the same circles anymore. Choso and Yuki are our only mutual friends, so it’s not like we’ll be running into each other right?”

The words tasted like ash in his mouth. 

You’re a liar, his mind whispered. You’re a liar.

“We’re getting married, right?” he blurted out like a man trying to convince himself.

“Yeah,” Mahito said, smiling softly. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to Suguru’s temple.

Suguru wanted to believe the story he was selling, wanted to believe that this was really what he wanted. He wanted to believe that everything would be okay, that he could bury what he’d done and still build something good. But the truth sat heavy in his chest. Nothing was okay. Not anymore.

🌟********************************************************************🌟

It was late, nearly midnight. Suguru should have been in bed hours ago. Instead he sat, half asleep on the couch, the glow of the laptop spilling over his face as the sound of rain tapped against the windows. 

The wedding registry page was still open, rows of silverware, china, and appliances all blurring together into meaningless shapes. Every time he looked at it, he felt like he was watching someone else’s life.

The vibration of his phone woke him out of his stupor, one glance at the screen and his heart sank…Satoru.

He shouldn’t answer, he couldn’t. It was late. Why was he calling? All the long nights trying to convince himself that this wasn’t what he wanted died as if they’d never had the strength to stand in the first place. The sight of his name alone filled him with a longing so deep he thought he might choke on it. 

“Hey.” Satoru’s voice was low, “did I wake you?”

Suguru swallowed hard, “No, I’m up.” 

Satoru chuckled, “Liar.. ..but I’m glad you answered.”

“I missed you,” Suguru said, the words spilling out without thought. 

Silence for a second, two, three.. ..and then Satoru’s laugh, quiet over the line.

“I missed you too.”

Suguru’s chest twisted. Across the hall, Mahito stirred in bed, a faint creak of bedsprings. The sound made Suguru’s stomach flip. He pressed a hand over his face, as if that could hide what he’d already done. 

“I want to see you,” Suguru said so quiet it was barely audible.

Satoru hummed, “Friday after work. This weeks going to be a bit crazy for me but I’ll be free then” 

Friday. Three days away. It felt like a lifetime of waiting. 

“Tomorrow,” Suguru whispered out, a desperation in his voice he wasn’t used to hearing.  “Have lunch with me, just an hour or so. I don’t even care if we eat but knowing you, I mean.. ..I just want to see you.”

There was a pause that stretched on so long that he thought the call had dropped. 

“Suguru…” Satoru sighed, “you’ll see me Friday. It’s just a couple of days.”

“I can’t wait that long,” Suguru whispered. The confession landed like a prayer. The air in the apartment felt thick, suffocating. Mahito was asleep down the hall, and still every part of him ached for someone else. “Please.”

Another silence stretched between them, just the tapping of the rain and Suguru’s quiet breathing while he waited.

“Okay,” Satoru whispered. “I’ll send you an address. I won’t have a lot of time, just a quick lunch.”

Suguru shut his eyes as relief flooded his system. He couldn’t believe how desperate he felt.

“Thank you, I’ll see you then.”

“Don’t thank me,” Satoru said softly. “You know this can’t last.”

Maybe it couldn’t. Maybe there was only one way for this all to end, and it would burn them both completely. But Suguru wasn’t ready to let go, not yet.

🌟**************************************************************🌟

Suguru is much too nervous to be meeting in public, this was a terrible idea. From the moment they met outside, all he could think about was that they should’ve chosen somewhere quieter. Somewhere less likely to draw eyes. But Satoru had insisted on this café, somewhere with food he liked that wasn’t too far from his office, a perfectly ordinary lunch spot for a perfectly ordinary pair. The problem was that nothing about Satoru Gojo was ordinary.

Even in his tailored navy suit that looked like every other business professional, he stuck out. He had always been a show stopper, someone that made people look twice as he walked past. It used to drive Suguru crazy, constantly feeling like he had to mark him as taken so people would go away.. and the years had not changed it. 

Suguru tried to fade into the background, not wanting to draw any more attention to their table. Resting his hands on the tablecloth, safe from being caught in a warm tangle under the table. Safe from touching in public. They couldn’t. Not here, not in daylight, not surrounded by people, not when the gleam of his ring caught the light every time Suguru lifted his glass. It made his chest ache.

The waitress brought their food with a practiced smile, but he could feel her curiosity in the way her eyes kept darting from the band on his finger to the beautiful man across from him who didn’t wear one. She couldn’t know, of course. There was no reason to think this was anything more than a casual business lunch. Perfectly harmless from the outside, burning on the inside.

Their lunch was pleasant.. ..effortless. With Satoru, it always was. His laugh came easy, the air felt lighter, the world more clear, brighter, warmer. It felt like remembering how to breathe after years living underwater. Suguru forgot, for a few minutes, that any of what they were doing was wrong. 

"Suguru?"

The voice froze him mid-breath. He looked up, and his stomach dropped.

Shoko stood a few feet away, a tote bag slung over her shoulder, coffee in hand. Her brown hair was longer now, curling softly at the ends. She was still unfairly pretty, that easy kind of pretty that didn’t have to try.

He watched her expression change from surprise to confusion to something else he couldn’t name.

Suguru’s mouth went dry. He forced a weak smile. “Shoko. Hey, good to see you.”

"Shoko. It’s been a while," Satoru added, leaning back in his chair. His tone was too pleasant, overly polite. 

Shoko nodded slowly, eyes darting between the two of them. "Yeah. It has."

Suguru felt the weight of her gaze, all the unsaid things crammed into that brief silence. He wanted to explain, to untangle the threads before she could pull at them, but the clock saved him. Satoru glanced at his watch, then back at Suguru with a shadow of regret in his eyes.

"I’ve got to get back to the office," he said, already pushing his chair back and throwing a few bills down on the table. He turned to Shoko, "Good seeing you…and uh. ..no hard feelings yeah?… ..” He shrugged, “I suppose neither of us won in the end did we?...."

And just like that, he was gone, leaving Suguru with a cooling plate of food, a racing heart, and the whisper of his last words. 

Shoko slid into the chair Satoru had just vacated, her coffee placed carefully between them. Suguru’s pulse spiked instantly, his stomach twisting. 

"So…" Shoko began, stirring her drink though she hadn’t added anything. Her eyes lingered on the empty seat, then flicked back to him. "Satoru’s back. You never mentioned you were hanging out again. Kind of a big omission, don’t you think?"

Suguru forced a shrug, though his fingers dug into the napkin in his lap. "We’re not ‘hanging out’, it's just lunch."

"You two seemed… fine," she said slowly, carefully. "Better than fine, actually. Which is… surprising, considering how things ended back then."

Suguru gave a shaky laugh, though inside he was screaming. He felt like the walls of the café were closing in around him.

"Well, it was a long time ago. Time heals right?"

"Sure," Shoko replied, “he seemed really… ..over it.” she added. She sipped her coffee, eyes never leaving his face. 

He didn’t reply. What could he really say? ‘I’m not over it either. I’m still crazy about him. Oh yeah and I’m cheating on my fiance’. Cool, yeah?’ So he just stayed silent, knowing she had more to say.

"I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you’re talking again. I just.." she hesitated, lips pressing together before continuing, "..you’ve been distant lately. You keep turning down invites. I thought maybe it was stress, work, wedding planning, all of it. But now…"

The panic swelled hot in his chest. He had to force his breathing steady, force the words out before they betrayed him. 

"It’s not… Shoko, it’s nothing. Really. Just… seeing him again stirred up some old stuff, sure, I mean we dated for years and were friends before that.. ..but it's not.. ..we’re just trying to be friends again."

The lie burned as it left his mouth. Shoko’s gaze softened, but he could tell she didn’t fully buy it. She reached across the table, brushing his wrist.

"Okay," she said softly. "If you say so. Just… don’t shut everyone out, Suguru. We like to see you too."

He swallowed hard, forcing a smile. “I won’t. promise. just been busy.”

“Alright.” Her tone was light again, but the warning was still there. “Don't do anything stupid.”

Suguru laughed lightly, but inside, his panic hadn’t eased. He had already done too many stupid things. Satoru was embedded into his skin like a tattoo he couldn’t wash off. It was far too late for warnings.

🌟*******************************************************************🌟

Friday couldn’t come soon enough. For the next two days, every hour at work crawled by. He couldn’t focus on anything, all he wanted was to see Satoru. He knew he was stuck in a horrible pattern, he knew he would have to do something, anything to break it. He could tell him tonight, over dinner, that it had to end. This thing between them. He could still salvage his relationship and he and Satoru could be friends right?

The lies he told himself were getting as good as the lies he told others.

Suguru:  Helping my sisters, they got a little emergency. Might stay overnight if it runs late.

Mahito's response had been kind, understanding and truly awful in how trusting it was. 

Mahito: Text me later and let me know so I don’t wait up. Love you ♥️

Suguru stared at the screen until his eyes blurred. 

Suguru: love you too.

He should just come clean, just scream it out. Just admit it and let the chips fall where they may. 

I slept with him! I love him! I don’t know how to stop seeing him! I’m going there right now!

The words hung in the silence, his thumbs gliding over the keys, but no. He couldn’t. The truth would destroy everything he had built and as much as he wanted to see it all crash and burn, he also..  ..didn’t. 

By seven o’clock sharp, Suguru was standing at Satoru’s door. Heart racing, palms damp, caught between dread and something dangerously close to relief. Because despite the guilt twisting his insides raw, despite the lies stacked higher and higher, he couldn’t deny what he wanted.

Satoru opened the door, and everything he felt, the anxiety, the shame, it all went quiet, pushed away by Satoru’s warmth. He was here for dinner. They could enjoy dinner, they could be friends. It didn’t have to get physical. If it was just this, he wasn’t doing anything wrong. 

Dinner was already cooking on the stove, Satoru’s hands working like magic. It still amazed Suguru how different he was now. How everything between them had changed, yet nothing had changed at all. 

“Cooking is really just science,” Satoru said with a grin when Suguru commented on his expertise in the kitchen.

He looked lovely tonight even though his outfit was nothing special. Just a pair of black lounge pants and a soft maroon sweater that hung low at the collar exposing his pale skin and the soft lines of his throat. It was simple, but the fabric clung in all the right places, shifting against his waist as he moved, and bunching up against the curve of his ass. Satoru could make anything look divine. 

Dinner was delicious, some exotic dish he had learned how to cook while he had been overseas, full of rich flavor and spice. They ate, they drank, they laughed, and it was easy, like it always was. Like riding a bike or putting on your favorite pair of shoes. It was just comfortable. 

Satoru put some music on to listen to while they cleaned up and Suguru didn’t even mind that it was pop. He stood beside Satoru at the sink, sleeves rolled back, drying dishes while Satoru rinsed them. It was domestic and painfully ordinary. Like getting a glimpse of the life they could have been together if he wouldn’t have ruined it.

While doing the dishes, Suguru slid his ring off, setting it carefully on the counter so it wouldn’t slip down the drain. He caught sight of it glinting in the overhead light, stark and accusing, and looked away quickly. He didn’t want it to exist here, in this kitchen, in this moment.

Satoru flicked soap at him as they were finishing, a nice bubbling glob landing right on his cheek. Then Satoru laughed, light, rich and beautiful. It made Suguru’s chest ache. He wiped his face off, smiling back and knowing in his heart that he wanted Satoru to smile like that for the rest of time.

Suguru retaliated and the next few minutes were spent in a childish bubble fight, flicking, swatting and blowing bubbles at each other until Satoru ended up in Suguru’s arms. The look in his blue eyes was devastatingly raw and so lovely that for a moment Suguru forgot how to breathe.

“Please stay,” Satoru said, voice low and soft. “I don’t want to be alone.”

Suguru felt the words pierce straight through him. He remembered what he was supposed to do. He was supposed to tell him that they had to stop. That they should just try to be friends. Instead he said, 

“Okay, I’ll stay.”

The way Satoru pulled him in was hungry and reverent at once, as if Suguru was both salvation and sin. Their mouths met, wet and hot and slick with spit. Suguru had never had anyone kiss him the way Satoru does, as though he was trying to explore every inch of his mouth. It was intoxicating and completely unraveled him.

The world narrowed to just the two of them, their breath hot as they devoured each other. Satoru kissed him like a man dying of thirst and his only relief was the man standing in front of him. Suguru kissed him back just as passionately, kissing and nibbling at his pale skin, savoring the taste of him.

When close wasn’t close enough, Suguru lifted Satoru up onto the kitchen counter and pressed into the spot between his legs. Satoru hooked his legs around him, his hands sliding up his shirt, fingers tracing over muscle and soft skin, sending small sparks of arousal through his body.

Suguru peppered him with kisses, sucking his way down Satoru’s neck and kissing hickies into his collarbone. Satoru whined and squirmed against him, his cock pressing hard against his pants. 

“Fuck, I want you right here,” Suguru said his voice dripping with passion. 

Whatever he wanted, Satoru would give it to him. Suguru bit down on his neck continuing his exploration of a body he had once known every inch of. Satoru moaned, his hips bucking up and pleasure flooding his brain. Nobody had ever touched him the way Suguru does. 

All his past lovers were always so careful, always too gentle as though they were afraid he might break. Suguru wanted him to break and Satoru loved it. He loved the feel of his hands gliding across his skin. He loved the way he instinctively knew every contact point that would make him squirm and writhe until he was begging for release. He loved how desired he felt, how loved he felt, how wanted.     God, he loved him.

He lifted his hips as Suguru shimmied his pants off. Satoru’s hard dripping cock fell heavy between them. Suguru placed a firm spit slicked hand around it, stroking it a few times as he looked at him as though he were worshipping every part of him. 

The marble counter was cold on his ass but it didn’t matter, everything felt incredible. Satoru fell back until he was fully laying spread out on the counter like some kind of forbidden holiday meal, “God, look at you…fucking beautiful” Suguru praised before stroking him as he bent over the counter to kiss him.  

Satoru lay back across the cold marble as Suguru’s hands worked magic against his skin, slowly working him open. His mouth was hot on his throbbing cock as he licked and sucked at the head, more teasing than pleasure yet Satoru couldn’t get enough of it.

Suguru took him fully into his mouth, his lips tight around him as two fingers pressed into his body. Satoru’s hands twined through Suguru’s hair, not applying any pressure, just begging for stability as his soul left his body. 

It was overwhelming, how right it felt to be here with him. Everyone else had been a poor substitute for the man he really wanted. It wasn’t long before Satoru came into his mouth with a broken whimper and then like a rabid dog, Suguru was on him, kissing him again with a ferocity that made his entire body tingle. 

“Can I fuck you right here, baby?” Suguru asked as he put a condom on.

“Please..” Satoru’s voice came out broken and gone. 

Suguru held him so his ass was hanging off the counter, the cold marble slick against his sweaty skin.  Satoru wrapped his legs around Suguru’s waist while Suguru held his hips as he pressed into him, groaning as he bottomed out. Satoru’s arms reached out for Suguru, searching for anywhere to grip, any point of contact. He gripped too hard against Suguru’s shoulders and Suguru reminded him “No marks baby, you gotta be gentle” 

It was a harsh reminder in the moment that Satoru didn’t have time to reflect on since a moment later his eyes were rolling in the back of his head and all thought left him. Suguru fucked into him hard and fast, destroying his prostate with every thrust. Suguru’s hands held tight against his hips, sure to leave a mark, an unfair, bitter twist that would have Satoru recalling this encounter for days.

Satoru whimpered and moaned, crying out Suguru’s name. Crying out for more. Pleading for him not to stop until tears were falling down his pretty face.

“Fuck, your so gorgeous baby.” Suguru moaned out and melted into him, pumping relentlessly like he might die if he stopped. Satoru came hard, his back arching up off the counter, his head lolling back and cum shooting out of his cock all over his chest and the counter next to him. The sight alone was so erotic that Suguru followed after one more deep thrust inside him, groaning deeply before stilling and covering his chest and neck with kisses.

Satoru was overwhelmed, he couldn’t think, he couldn’t move. He was now one with the kitchen counter. Suguru pulled out and in his place was a vast hollow. Suguru, knowing he was spent, carried him to the bedroom, forgetting the mess on the counter. The scent of Suguru filled all his senses, his skin the only real thing he felt at all. It was overwhelming how right it felt. Like a lock sliding into place, like the universe had carved them to fit together. 

🌟**********************************************************************🌟

The room was quiet except for the sound of their breathing, the warmth of their bodies still tangled in sheets. Satoru’s arm lay heavy over Suguru’s waist, his face pressed close against his shoulder. For a moment it felt perfect, filled with the kind of peace Suguru only ever found here.

“Leave him,” Satoru’s voice broke the silence, low and raw like he had been waiting to say it.

Suguru’s heart clenched painfully in his chest. He stared up at the ceiling, every muscle in his body going taut. He had known this moment would come eventually, that Satoru would ask, that he would be forced to make a choice. 

Satoru shifted, pulling back just enough to look at him, eyes glistening in the dim light. “Leave him, Suguru. I want to be with you for real, not hiding, not sneaking around. I don’t want to lie to the people closest to me, to our friends. We’re… we’re made for each other. You know we are.” His voice cracked, desperate. “I’ve never wanted anyone else. You make me happy. Don’t we make each other happy?”

Yes, Suguru wanted to say. Yes you make me happy, yes you’re all I’ve ever wanted. Yes please, let's end this torment and just be together. But he couldn’t. He saw Mahito’s face in his mind. Mahito, who had been patient, who had trusted him. His ring still sat on the counter, abandoned and forgotten like a silent accusation.

“I can’t,” Suguru whispered, hating the words as soon as they left his mouth.

The anguish on Satoru’s face was unbearable. “Why not?” he choked, fists clenching in the sheets as the first cry tore from his throat. “Why can’t we try again?” He sobbed like a hurt child, broken and desperate,  “I’ve never even understood why we broke up in the first place. Why did you push me away? Why did you do this to us.” he cried until his throat was raw from it. 

Suguru pulled him close, arms wrapping tight around him as though he could hold the broken pieces together by sheer force. He pressed his face into Satoru’s hair, whispering his name and trying to soothe the wracking sobs that tore through his body. He wanted to tell him, to promise him that he would do it, that they would finally get to be together but the choice stuck in his throat, refusing to be made. 

“You know you don’t want to marry him.” Satoru said barely a whisper, his throat raw from crying, “It was supposed to be.. ..me.”

Suguru couldn’t answer. He didn’t have an answer. When he was younger, if someone would have asked him who he would spend his life with, the answer would always have been Satoru. There was never any question about it, until doubt and jealousy creeped into his mind, invading all reason. All he had now was regret and a beautiful man that he still loved, who had finally cried himself to sleep against his chest. Suguru couldn’t sleep for a long while after, staring into the dark, wondering if there was any way out of this mess he created. 

🌟**************************************************************🌟

The smell of coffee filled the apartment, warm and comforting slowly pulling him out of the haze of sleep. For a moment, the question, the refusal of the night before seemed to vanish. Satoru let himself sink into the illusion, the impossible sweetness of it, as though he had finally woken up in the life he had always wanted.  

Then reality set in as soon as his arm swung out to the side to find the sheets beside him cold, the imprint of Suguru’s body still pressed into the sheets, the smell of him filling his senses.  

Panic flared through him. Of course, he had left.. ..again. Satoru felt bitter tears rise up again but he refused to let them come. He was done crying over that man. He sat up determined to have a good day, to forget about him. 

The quiet scrape of a pan shook his anger away like snow falling from a tree. The low clink of a mug against the counter. And the smell again, of not only coffee but something delicious. He followed the sound into the kitchen, bare feet dragging over the floor, and there he was.

Suguru, standing at the stove with his sleeves pushed up and his dark hair flowing down against his bare back. Moving through his cupboards with quiet efficiency like he belonged there, like this place was his.. …home.  

Satoru stopped in the doorway and just… looked. It was so disarmingly ordinary, and yet it hit him harder than any grand gesture ever could. He wanted this every day. He wanted to wake up with him, he could picture it all with such stark clarity that it left him breathless. Their lives together would be so easy, laughing over burnt toast, arguing about groceries, fighting and making up, always making up, growing old side by side.

He wanted so badly for it to be real.

Suguru glanced over his shoulder and smiled, small and soft, and it felt like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. Satoru’s chest ached with how much he loved him, how much he wanted this, wanted him.

“Sit,” Suguru said, sliding a plate onto the table like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like this wasn’t borrowed time.

Satoru obeyed, sinking into the chair, watching as Suguru fussed over coffee cups. He wanted to reach out, to tell him again, Leave him, Stay with me, Choose me. Dammit, choose me! The words pressed against his teeth, hot and desperate.

But he didn’t. He had already gotten his answer and had already decided that this would be the last time they met like this. Now he just had to get his heart to agree, the fickle thing kept letting him back in.

Instead he took the plate, let their fingers brush too long, let the warmth of it fill him. Pretended it was enough. Maybe it was, for now. To have him here, in the light of day, with breakfast between them and nothing but quiet hanging in the air. Maybe if he clung hard enough, this moment could stretch out forever.

Satoru lifted his mug and met Suguru’s eyes over the steam. And for a heartbeat he let himself believe this was their life.

The illusion held until the vibration broke it. Suguru’s phone buzzed on the counter where he’d left it, face down beside his ring. Once. Twice. Then a string of insistent little bursts that cut through the quiet like a blade.

Satoru watched him freeze, spatula hovering over the pan. He didn’t move right away, and for a fleeting second Satoru thought, hoped really that he’d just let it go. That he’d silence it, ignore it, choose him.

But Suguru set the spatula down and reached for the phone. His expression softened, then pinched, then shifted into something unreadable as his thumb darted across the screen.

“Everything okay?” Satoru asked, even though he already knew.

Suguru blew out a breath, rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s Mahito. He said a pipe burst, the place is a mess. He’s trying to make a joke about it ‘haha, indoor pool, guess we can charge admission’ but it sounds bad.”

Satoru’s stomach sank, just the other man's name was enough to make him feel sick, still remembering how perfectly their bodies had fit together only hours ago. 

“Do you need to go?”

Satoru could see the hesitation flicker over his face. The way his eyes moved around the room as though cataloging it one last time. The way they lingered on Satoru, resting for just a moment, long enough to strike hope, only for it to quickly be torn away as he looked back to the phone, already buzzing with another message. 

“I should,” Suguru said finally, the words heavy. “I can’t just leave him to deal with it alone.”

Satoru nodded, even though he wanted to shout, why not? why can’t you? Why is it so easy to leave me!? He pressed his lips into a thin line and looked down at his coffee instead, steam curling upward like a taunt.

Suguru set the phone down and walked over to him. Satoru could see it, all the guilt, the longing, the love all crashing together and swirling around in his beautiful mind. He reached out and traced the lines of Satoru’s fingers, his own trembling. Satoru looked down, closed his eyes trying to keep some kind of composure when inside every part of him was breaking. 

“I don’t want to go,” Suguru whispered, almost too quiet to hear. “Satoru, you have to know.. ..but....”

“Yeah” Satoru’s voice cracked. He forced himself to look up, to meet those dark, tormented eyes. “I know.”

For a beat, neither of them moved. The breakfast sat cooling on the table. The illusion they’d built in the golden morning light shattered into nothing. Suguru slipped his ring back on his finger and pocketed his phone.

Then he kissed Satoru once, soft. A kiss that was both lingering and desperate before pulling away and leaving out the door. 

Satoru sat for hours at the table, never touching the food. The echo of everything he had left unsaid running through his mind, and a certainty that he knew, he could not keep doing this. As surely as it was killing Suguru, it was killing him too.

🌟*******************************************************************🌟

Suguru’s chest still felt raw when he stepped out of Satoru’s building, the morning light shining too bright against his skin. He didn’t deserve to bask in the glow, he had already stolen enough of Satoru’s warmth, trying to keep it for himself, trying to live in two worlds when he had only ever belonged to one.

Going home was a duty, an obligation. Satoru had to see that right? He had to know. Suguru’s whole plan had backfired horribly. He meant to tell him, he meant to stop the affair, instead he fucked him on his counter and slept next to him in his bed. Regret lived deep in his bones by now, he didn’t regret being with Satoru, he couldn’t.. ..just everything else. Everything else that had made something that was once so simple, horribly complicated. 

He unlocked his apartment door and the sound of rushing water was the first thing to greet him. A small river sprawled across the floor, towels scattered everywhere trying and failing to stop the flow. Mahito stood in the middle of it all, sweatpants darkened to his calves, hair damp and curling against his forehead. He was smiling still, somehow through all the chaos he was still smiling.

“Welcome home to Atlantis,” Mahito called, half-laughing, as he tried to corral the flood with another towel.

Suguru froze in the doorway, the weight of it all pressing down. He had woken up only hours ago in a penthouse apartment, soft sheets and crisp lines. Sunlight streaming in through floor to ceiling windows, breakfast laid out on Satoru’s pristine counters that still held the memory of them together. Everything there was like something out of a dream, calm and clean and perfect.

But it was fantasy, it wasn’t real. And here now, in the noise and chaos and water threatening all of his possessions he was reminded. This was real life, messy and awful and crushing. 

He set his bag carefully on the table where it wouldn’t get wet and waded into his apartment. His home. The icy water soaked through his pants, a shock against his skin. Mahito tossed him a towel with a grin that begged for partnership. 

“Plumber’s on his way. Thought I’d keep the ocean contained until then.”

Suguru pressed the towel to the floor, watching the water seep and spread despite his effort. He couldn’t help the thought that flowed through his brain. This is all pointless. This mess is like us. Damaged, ruining the furniture. No matter what I try, or how I try to fix it, the pain just keeps leaking through.

Mahito leaned close, brushing a damp kiss to his temple. It was automatic, something he did without thinking. 

“We’ll fix it,” he said with certainty, as if patching broken pipes and patching their relationship were the same thing.

The plumber arrived, gruff and efficient, shutting off the main and clanging his way through the pipes. By then the towels were a hopeless pile, the floor still slick, but Mahito stood with his hands on his hips like a general surveying the field. He turned to Suguru, tired but still smiling. 

“We’ll dry it out. Air the place. It’s just a mess, nothing we can’t handle.”

When the plumber left, Mahito collapsed onto the couch, dragging Suguru with him. They were both damp, chilled, and exhausted, but Mahito tucked his head against Suguru’s shoulder with a sigh. 

“Thanks so much for your help. I couldn’t survive it without you.”

Suguru rested his cheek against Mahito’s hair, the damp strands cool against his skin. His arms closed around him automatically, the way they had a hundred times before, the way his body remembered even when his heart was fractured.

🌟****************************************************************🌟

For the next few weeks, Suguru tried. God, he really tried. Satoru had gone silent. No messages, no late-night emails, no quick “thinking of you” between meetings. Nothing. It was the longest they had ever gone without speaking to each other, well since they reunited anyway.

Suguru told himself he understood. He’d seen the devastation in Satoru’s eyes, felt the sobs wrack his body, the way his hands clung like he’d never let go. Suguru had said no, and silence was the answer he deserved. But a piece of his heart was missing, carved out clean and given to someone who wasn’t returning his calls. Who may never contact him again.

He leaned into Mahito the way a drowning man clings to driftwood, clutching tight, hoping it was enough to keep him afloat. They went to dinners with their friends, they spent the evenings curled together on the couch. Had many long conversations about their upcoming wedding and Suguru allowed himself to be present, giving honest opinions about venues and color schemes. 

Sometimes it was enough. He was constantly reminded of the warmth that had attracted him to Mahito in the first place. A fire he had desperately tried to warm himself against when they first met. Now, the same warmth was almost suffocating. But he tried. He tried to lose himself in the rhythm of their everyday life, he tried to remind himself, this is what love is supposed to be.

And yet he would still find himself lying awake at night while Mahito slept soundly beside him. The silence pressed against him, a constant weight on his chest. In the darkness, he saw Satoru’s face as clearly as if he’d been there. His eyes red and swimming with tears, the hurt, the disbelief, the question that burned him alive, Why not? 

Suguru would curl toward Mahito in those moments, searching for comfort, but instead finding guilt. He’d hold him closer, as if holding tighter might somehow erase the memory, might stitch shut the fracture in his chest. But it never did.

He thought about telling him. About letting it all spill out, the whole ugly truth. He imagined Mahito’s face falling, imagined him walking away, imagining the wedding unraveling in an instant. Maybe that was the right thing. Maybe that was the only thing that made sense anymore.

But the other possibility haunted him just as much, there was a chance that Mahito wouldn’t leave. That he would stay and forgive him. That he would want to patch the gaping wound of Suguru’s betrayal. And all the while, Suguru would still wake in the night reaching for someone else.  

He was paralyzed by indecision. The worst possibility imaginable, losing them both freezing him in place. He could lose them both, he probably already had. The engagement ring felt heavier on his finger than it ever had before, pressing against his skin like a reminder, like a shackle.

Suguru closed his eyes and thought of Satoru’s words spoken quietly in the dark, ‘You know you don’t want to marry him. It was supposed to be.. ..me.’

And he wondered, for the thousandth time, if it was too late.