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2:03 A.M.
“Do it.”
“No.”
“I bet you can’t.”
“Don’t be stupid. You know I can.”
“So why won’t you?”
“Because I have a Potions test I can’t afford to fail? And because we have an upcoming quidditch game? If you say you forgot, I’m kicking you off the team, I swear to God.”
Suguru sighs in defeat, driving a hard kick into the leg of Satoru’s chair. The latter barely jostles in his seat. “Fine. Whatever. You’re no fun anymore.”
“Giving up that easily?” Satoru looks over his own shoulder to give him a shit-eating grin, eyes lit up in mirth. “That’s unlike you.”
“Passing up an opportunity to show off? That’s unlike you .”
They’re both seated in a secluded corner in the library, the one they usually occupy at odd hours in a pathetic attempt to get work done and is, coincidentally, the one seldom visited by just about anyone in the castle.
Satoru likes to reason that it’s because everyone’s so intimidated by them and the power they radiate that they try to steer clear of the pair as much as they can.
Suguru thinks it’s because Satoru’s so fucking noisy when he’s trying to memorize spells, like he can’t seem to stop practicing the way they roll off his tongue in volumes that rival Sonorus when the charm is employed.
And because Satoru makes it a point to drive anyone away from them when they’re trying to study in ways that he probably believes are subtle.
There they were, back in the corner that has become entirely theirs at 2 in the morning. Granted, students were expected to be in their dormitories by 10:00, but Suguru can’t remember the last time Satoru hasn’t dragged him into breaking curfew — amongst other school rules that have been rendered irrelevant to the pair, courtesy of one Gojo Satoru.
So when Suguru proposes a plan that’s particularly astounding — even to his blue-eyed friend whose limits are essentially non-existent and dead to the world — he considers that maybe it is a bad idea. Maybe. Just a little.
The problem is that once an idea starts forming in Suguru’s brain, it’s only a matter of time before Satoru is dragged into it because he always agrees in the end. Without fail. Suguru knows it, their classmates know it, their professors know it, the ghosts know it, and the entire Slytherin house might as well be witnesses to it. After all, it’s not everyday that Suguru’s the mastermind behind their schemes.
Satoru spins around in his chair, straddling it and fixing Suguru with a challenging glare. “Why do you want me to do it so bad? ‘You too scared to go at it yourself or something?”
“Can’t risk it. I’m not… fast enough on the broom.”
“Not fast enough—? You’re literally playing on the quidditch team as Seeker. You can’t get any faster than that.”
“Okay, so maybe not that,” Suguru backtracks, rolling his shoulders underneath his robes. “But to do this, you’re gonna have to know how to dodge stuff. You’d have to be a swift little thing to challenge a tree that’s probably centuries older than we are, right? Who’s better at dodging shit than Slytherin’s beloved Beater?”
Satoru looks like he’s ready to deck Suguru in the next second, which is decidedly not a good sign in the slightest. Suguru clenches his jaw in preparation anyways.
“How the fuck did you end up on the quidditch team and win game after game against every other Hogwarts house thinking that Beaters just ‘dodge shit’?” Satoru narrows his eyes at him, looking like Suguru just asked him to lick Filch’s shoes.“We literally put ourselves in the line of fire for bludgers! I’m taking serious offense to this, man!”
Suguru lets out another defeated sigh, his mind’s eye flicking through his ever-growing list of ways to get Satoru to do what he wants. He can always offer him his favorite sweets from that one shop he loves, but Suguru doesn’t feel like making a quick trip to Hogsmeade any time soon. Not after Satoru tried to swipe a huge bag from the very same store — tried being the keyword, because he got caught like the dumbass that he is.
Naturally, Suguru had to play peacekeeper and placated the store owner with a specific number of Galleons that had him stomping away with an empty wallet and a smug Satoru trailing after him.
Then again, he can also butter him up just the right amount to inflate Satoru’s ego. Suguru tries his best not to shudder, because the only thing he thinks is genuinely admirable and praise-worthy about Satoru is his uncanny capability to instantly master any spell he wants to.
And the way his eyes can pick up on the smallest things, especially when people attempt to lie their way out of getting a punishment they deserve. And his skills in communicating with animals. And his dedication to his studies despite being Slytherin’s notorious troublemaker. And his innate talent in quidditch, earning him the position of Captain with none of the members even bothering to protest because they knew no one could do it the way Satoru could.
Suguru files away all these points in a remote corner of his mind, opting to deal with them later. Preferably with a charm that banishes gross, mushy thoughts about one’s best friend that have him reeling because Satoru isn’t that great, get it together, Suguru.
One item on the list seems particularly tempting, so he runs with it because anything is better than flattering Satoru into submission.
“I heard some fourth years say that they tried it, and one of them probably got the hang of it because they said something… interesting.”
“Interesting how?” Satoru raises a white eyebrow, intrigued like the gossip that he is.
“I dunno,” Suguru shrugs. Whispers a short prayer in his head before he delivers the final blow. “Something about being able to surpass Gojo Satoru at this rate, because there’s no way in hell you’d have the balls to do it when you have way too much to lose.”
Satoru shoots up from his chair, fire in his eyes and robes fluttering from his abruptness. “Ha?!”
“Now that I think about it, they’re probably right? I mean, dude, we’re graduating soon and you’re the quidditch captain. Can’t imagine what Yaga would do to you if he finds out you messed with the Whomping Willow for fun.”
“No, fuck that,” Satoru mutters, visibly upset but so obviously nearing the precipice of doing exactly what Suguru expects him to. The latter tries not to show the grin threatening to split his face in half. “It’s not like I’m dumb enough to get caught. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”
“Are you sure?” Suguru asks for good measure. The real key to a manipulative strategy like this one is to make Satoru believe that he came up with the idea all on his own. If he thinks himself the mastermind, no repercussions would have to land on Suguru — this way, Satoru can only blame himself and his smothering pride.
He’s not sure why he wants to see Satoru dodge the Whomping Willow as it tries its best to beat him into the ground within an inch of his life, but it feels like something he needs before they eventually leave the school as fresh graduates. Call it Satoru’s bad influence on him, because Satoru loves causing trouble as much as Suguru loves endorsing it.
Goddamn, he’s gonna have to offer up an apology to all his believers out there. As much as they want to think that Suguru is the better, more rational half of their duo, Suguru is but an eighteen-year-old boy who has been walking alongside Satoru since they were ten. One doesn’t survive for that long without being a little wicked in their own way.
“Whatever, let’s fucking do it right now, I don’t care,” Satoru starts moving then, his books slamming on top of one another as he piles them up. The amount of force he puts into every little movement makes Suguru want to cackle. God, he’s good. “You better record me dodging the shit out of that old ass tree. I’ll show those fourth years who’s boss. No one surpasses me. That’s fucking ridiculous.”
“I bet I can.” Suguru responds mindlessly, taking the pile and mumbling a simple spell that has the books flying back to their respective shelves.
“I don’t hang around people who are weak,” Satoru says to him, just as they make their way out of the library. “Of course you can.”
3:12 A.M.
The witching hour finds them in the clearing somewhere in castle grounds, precisely where the Whomping Willow stands tall and currently unbothered. With no one else around to witness their shenanigans, Suguru thinks it’s quite peaceful, the way they’re just standing here like this with only crickets breaking through the silence that fell over them. He treasures moments like these, because peace isn’t something you come by very often when you have someone like Satoru dragging you by the hand towards the next big thing he has planned.
Next to him, Satoru flexes his fingers from where they’re gripping his broom tightly.
“‘You nervous or something?” Suguru nudges him, teasing grin in place. “You don’t have to do it, you know. Especially if it’s only because you wanna prove a point.”
“Are you kidding? That’s the best reason to have,” Satoru, startled out of his own buzzing mind, starts doing stretches — as much as he can underneath those robes, anyways. Suguru has half the mind to tell him that he can do without them because it’s not like anyone here is going to snitch, but when he glances at Satoru again, he decides that watching him struggle is way more entertaining. “If you’re going to do anything this grand, might as well have something to prove. This is stupid. You’d think that at their fourth year here, those kids would know that no one will ever be better than me.”
“And you’d think that at your seventh year here, you would know not to take what some fourteen-year-olds have to say to heart.” Suguru tuts, amused.
“I need to show them their place! Imagine walking those halls thinking you’re anywhere near Gojo Satoru’s level. It sounds so ridiculous I could cry, Suguru!”
Suguru shoves him, laughing under his breath at how funny all of this is. Satoru really can be so fucking easy wherever his pride is involved. “Get over yourself, asshole. You’re the one who keeps telling everyone that Yuuta’s going to be the next Satoru Gojo if he tries hard enough.”
“But it’s Okkotsu Yuuta ,” Satoru insists, “If any underclassman will ever have the power to beat me at anything, it’ll be Yuuta. We’re related, after all.”
“Isn’t he like your third cousin twice removed or some shit?”
“Or some shit,” Satoru nods solemnly. “I’m not really sure. But we share the same blood, definitely.”
“Naturally.”
“Watch your tone, Getou,” Satoru croons over his shoulder as he marches towards the Whomping Willow with newfound confidence raising his chin up high. “You’re talking to the first ever Hogwarts student who’s going to dodge the Whomping Willow like a champ — and without a scratch, at that!”
“But that fourth year just —“
“Without a scratch, I said!”
“You didn’t even see him,” Suguru raises an eyebrow at him, unconvinced. “How would you know that he didn’t sustain any bruises?”
“Please. Have you seen this enormous thing? An inexperienced flyer would fucking die if they tried,” Satoru gestures at the tree in question, menacing even as it stands a few meters away. Suguru is starting to question his major life decisions. “That fourth year is probably on the quidditch team. Most definitely a Gryffindor, he belongs with those arrogant little bastards…”
“Hey, the sorting hat told me it wanted to put me in Gryffindor,” Suguru points out, kind of unsure why he’s trying to defend another house when he’s never really cared for them outside of quidditch, but bickering with Satoru has always been his favorite sport. “Do I look like an arrogant little bastard to you?”
“Of course not.”
Suguru feels the beginnings of a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth.
“You’re a coward, so it probably sorted you into Slytherin because you could use a major confidence boost.”
Suguru bends down to pick up a rock and hurls it at Satoru’s head. The bastard turns around and mutters a spell with a smile, immobilizing it in thin air.
“What confidence boost! Being around you is humiliating, you dick.” Suguru growls, threatening to throw another rock at the other boy.
“Yeah, yeah,” Satoru laughs. It sounds loud and echoes throughout the clearing, and Suguru almost flinches at the way it disrupts the silence so obnoxiously. It feels nice to hear it all the same. “I was sorted first, Su-gu-ru. The sorting hat probably thought you needed me.”
“I don’t need you!”
“Of course you don’t,” Satoru shrugs, like it’s something he already knew. “What does a mangly old hat know about us, anyways?”
Suguru has nothing to say to that.
Satoru, looking satisfied with his friend’s response — or the lack thereof — turns to size up the tree again. He seems to have already forgotten about the previous conversation when he says, “We’ve been here forever. I say, let’s get this shit over with so we can go get some food.”
Suguru regains the ability to talk at the mention of the reason why they’re here in the first place. “They don’t serve food before sunrise.”
“Whatever,” Satoru smartly responds. “‘You recording yet?”
The other boy pulls out his phone from his pockets, opening it with a slide of his thumb. “Knock yourself out, dude.”
“Careful what you wish for!”
With that, Satoru slings a leg over his broom and kicks off the ground, sending himself flying towards the tree. He comes to a stop when he’s about two meters away from its menacing branches.
“So how do we do this?” He yells out. Suguru thinks it’s pretty unnecessary when he’ll hear him just fine if he talks normally.
“I dunno? Thought you’d have come up with some kind of plan while you were standing there, brooding and planning some poor fourth year’s death.”
“Well, I didn’t!” Satoru whines, wobbling a little from where he’s floating on a piece of wood. “What do I do? Should I kick it or something?”
“Do not kick it!”
“Then what?!”
“Um,” Suguru puts his phone down and looks up at the night sky, recalling every single thing he learned about the Whomping Willow. “I’m pretty sure it can sense your presence. Maybe if you fly closer…?”
Satoru does as he’s told, until he’s an arm’s length away from the nearest branch.
“Why is it so still?” He wonders aloud, hand reaching out to lightly poke at a flimsy part of the tree. “Isn’t it supposed to be active 24/7? Seems pretty useless now that it’s frozen like this.”
“I don’t fucking know!”
Suguru can feel himself starting to get nervous. He’s not sure why. The Whomping Willow looks all shades of wrong, with the way it’s standing stock still.
“Should we just ditch it, then?” He proposes, doesn’t care if he sounds like the coward Satoru accused him of being. The latter is way too close for comfort to what looks like a fucking hammer camouflaged as a tree branch. If Satoru tears his gaze away from the tree for even a second, Suguru doesn’t think that the Whomping Willow is above plowing him into the grass below.
“Nah,” Satoru grins, and it causes something to ping in Suguru’s chest. It’s definitely guilt. “I’ll just… give it a little nudge.”
“Fuck you mean, a little nudge?” Suguru tries not to let his fear show. “Satoru, I’m serious, come down here. It’s not safe.”
“What part of dodging the Whomping Willow seems safe to you?” Satoru snickers, just as he’s pulling his wand out of his pocket. “Have a little faith, Getou!”
And then he sends a spark flying towards the tree, dead center.
Suguru can only watch, with his phone capturing everything, as the Whomping Willow roars to life.
3:41 A.M.
Utahime Iori doesn’t know why she’s awake.
“Hurry up, Iori,” Mei Mei calls from twenty feet in front of her. “If you don’t walk faster, we’re going to miss it.”
On second thought, she does.
“Miss what, exactly?” Utahime makes a conscious effort to make her strides bigger, slowly catching up to Mei and all her enthusiasm. “It’s almost 4 in the morning. The most action we’re going to get is the Whomping Willow swatting at some fly with the force of a sledgehammer.”
“Funny you mentioned that old tree,” Mei grins. Utahime holds back a wince, her facial reflexes responding to the calculating gaze sent her way. “Because I’m pretty sure I heard it crash into something just now.”
“Are you sure you’re not hearing things?” Utahime frowns, straining her ears. All she hears are Mei’s heels rhythmically tapping against the cement.
The latter giggles, pleasant in the way it cuts through the silence of the night.
“Wait and see, Utahime. Just wait and see.”
If Utahime knew that taking a job at Hogwarts after graduating from the very same school three years ago entailed giving into Mei’s every whim, even if it meant leaving the comfort of her bed at three in the morning, she would’ve gladly taken an office job amongst muggles.
Mei leads her towards the clearing, presumably to check out what has the Whomping Willow throwing a tantrum this time. Utahime thinks nothing of it, because the centuries-old tree tends to make noise every other night for no fathomable reason aside from the fact that it’s constantly throwing a tantrum. She shudders at the memory of her waking up to its creaking and groaning in the middle of the night, her first week as a Hogwarts professor still shrouded in weird moments that had her relearning every little thing about the school and then some.
But just as the Whomping Willow comes into view, another thing catches Utahime’s attention — two things, to be precise.
First, is Suguru Getou standing at a safe distance away from the tree as it thrashes around, filming everything with his phone.
Second, and Utahime nearly faints from the sight, is Satoru Gojo sitting on a broom and flying in between the angry branches, laughing like he’s having the time of his life.
“Isn’t this a fucked up idea for a date, or what?” Mei murmurs, snickering softly.
Utahime startles at the reminder that she is not, in fact, the lone spectator of the fuckery playing out before her eyes. She gestures wildly towards the scene, looking at Mei with wide eyes. “This—this is—!”
“I’m pretty sure these seventh years are well aware that they’re not supposed to be here,” Mei, the picture of serenity, places a placating hand on Utahime’s shoulder. “But I don’t have the heart to interrupt their lovely little date. Look at them. They’re having so much fun together, it’s disgusting.”
“That’s not a date! ” Utahime whispers aggressively. “Gojo’s trying to get himself killed, again! And of course Getou’s here, because Gojo’s here!”
When Mei only continues to look at the two students, something soft and knowing in her eyes, Utahime delivers a smack to her arm.
“We have to do something!”
“Probably,” Mei says wistfully. “But I think they’re going to be okay. Getou doesn’t look like he wants to stop it, so I’m sure they’re fine.”
“You’d think Getou was the voice of reason between those two, but look at him recording everything with a smile on his face.” Utahime grumbles, feeling a little betrayed by her student.
“Getou is most definitely the more rational half of their little duo,” Mei agrees, nodding her head. “But I think at the end of the day, he ends up agreeing to Gojo’s terrible ideas because he’ll be there to protect him anyways. Plus…”
Mei smirks in Utahime’s direction. “I don’t think he’s as innocent and pure of heart as you think, Utahime. He is, after all, best friends with the resident troublemaker.”
“So, what, we’ll just leave them alone?” Utahime is frowning, eyes fixed on Gojo as he dodges yet another blow from the Whomping Willow.
“Let’s just… pretend we didn’t see anything…” Mei slings an arm over her co-teacher’s shoulder then, driving her away from the scene. “They’re graduating in a few months. Let them have a little fun before they go.”
“Going to Hogsmeade is fun. Playing quidditch is fun. Visiting the Weasley twins’ joke shop is fun. I can’t imagine thinking that purposely riling up the Whomping Willow is fun,” Utahime grumbles, shaking her head but allowing herself to be dragged away regardless. “I didn’t even know that those two actually liked each other. I thought it was just me seeing things.”
“You know what?” Mei sighs in that dreamy way she does, eyes alight as they reflect the candles lining the hallway. “I don’t think they do, either.”
4:02 A.M.
It’s been about thirty minutes since Satoru charged into the Whomping Willow and began dodging it like it’s the best fistfight he’s seen in ages.
Suguru doesn’t know how he looks like he can still go for another three hours, but he doesn’t really care to know because he’s too busy trying to capture Satoru’s wild eyes and the grin permanently etched on his face.
“You—need—to try—this sometime, bro!” Satoru yells out, just as a branch tries to swat at him again. “It feels like a fucking work out—oh shit—“
“Thanks for the offer, but I’ll pass,” Suguru yells back, flinching when the Whomping Willow comes close to knocking Satoru off his broom. The latter swerves out of its way with the grace of a ballerina. “‘You gonna tap out any time soon?”
“Fuck no,” Satoru breathes. “Did you happen to hear how long that fourth year motherfucker said he did this? I need to beat him.”
“Nah, I was just passing by,” Suguru, having almost forgotten about his lie, nearly trips over himself trying to respond. “Wanna bet he didn’t make it past five minutes?”
“Of course he didn’t. Weak bitch,” Satoru tuts. Suguru huffs out a laugh at his pettiness. “I’m not risking it though. Gimme a few more minutes, this is way too fun.”
“I know you have the best stamina out of literally everyone in the castle, but I’m not gonna stand here until sunrise,” Suguru tells him, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He switches the arm holding his phone for the other one, too, having held it up for thirty minutes. “In case you’ve forgotten, we’re supposed to be asleep right now.”
“Big talk from someone who was doing the most to make me charge into this suicide mission,” Satoru flies out of range from the Whomping Willow, looking down at his friend and giving him a teasing wink. “Where did Suguru from two hours ago go?”
Suguru suppresses a shudder. Then he balls his free hand into a fist and clenches it, because what the fuck was that. “He got tired because this got real old real fast. Let’s just go, c’mon.”
“Just a little more!”
He watches as Satoru charges in once more, robes bristling as the wind goes against him. Suguru supposes he’s too distracted to notice anything but the branches trying to punch him into the afterlife, so he allows himself to look. And look, he does.
From a distance, Satoru looks every inch of the powerful wizard he claims to be. His hair shining even from here Suguru stands as moonlight bounces off his head in a way that makes him glow; his movements precise and graceful, like he’s being carried by the wind itself. Suguru doesn’t walk by his side feigning ignorance and pretending he doesn’t see how Satoru is marvelous in every sense of the word. How he’s pretty, even with blood dripping down his temple and a satisfied smile on his face when he turns to look at Suguru after battling an evil creature.
On the daily, Suguru isn’t proud enough to deny that he makes a conscious effort to not stare into Satoru’s eyes, seeing for himself just how beautiful the famed Six Eyes can be up close.
He hears Satoru laugh loudly again, but from where he’s standing he can’t actually see him — he’s probably somewhere behind the tree, dodging and snickering as he goes.
So while Satoru’s out of sight and enjoying himself, Suguru entertains that little corner in his mind. Just for a little while. Just to see where this would take him, because he’s never actually tried.
He’s so talented, Suguru thinks to himself, lost in the memory of seeing Satoru fly on a broom for the first time. He was so young back then, but the fire in his eyes remained even after years of flying on a broom like he preferred it over walking on his own two feet.
His heart is too big, Suguru thinks to himself, remembering Satoru’s tight grip on the bag of sweets he tried to steal from Hogsmeade. To give to the kids out there, he had said, eyes downcast. They don’t have the money for it. I don’t either, I know, but I thought if I could… y’know, just this once. It’s the holidays, and it’s supposed to be the season of giving, right? Suguru had paid, because he didn’t think Satoru deserved to get into trouble for wanting to give so badly.
He’s fucking obnoxious, Suguru thinks to himself, recounting all the times Satoru picked on Utahime for no reason except that he wanted to. Now, the professor feels more like a friend than a person of authority — someone he can count on, someone he can trust.
His bravery is going to get him killed someday, Suguru thinks to himself, mind flashing back to the way Satoru threw himself in front of a second year when a hippogriff tried to attack her because of a miscalculation.
He’s too smart for his own good, Suguru thinks to himself, when he’s reminded that Satoru passes all his classes even when he’s busy goofing off more than half of the time. When he studies, though — when all his focus goes into reading books and understanding lectures every once in a while, Suguru has no doubt that Satoru can set new records if he wished to.
He’s beautiful, Suguru thinks to himself, just as Satoru darts out from behind the tree, flying towards the sky as he escapes the Whomping Willow’s branches, screaming out a laugh that’s as happy as a laugh can get.
Underneath the moonlight, he looks stunning, like magic personified, like all of Suguru’s dreams coming true.
“Oh, no.” Suguru says out loud.
He’s pretty sure he’s supposed to be getting a sense of foreboding, a feeling that tells him he has no choice but to wait for disaster to strike and take him away from this world Gojo Satoru is taking by storm; instead, though, he feels lighter than a feather.
When Satoru flies towards him, he feels warm all over.
When Satoru draws near enough to the ground to land on his feet, he feels like a brand new person. When the moon is all they have on a night as dark as this one, Satoru looks ethereal when he looks at him — panting, grinning like a madman.
When Satoru walks towards him, dragging his broom behind him, Suguru feels like he was the one flying in all sorts of directions because Satoru is so handsome, he took his breath away.
When Satoru stops in front of him, oblivious to the way Suguru is looking at him as he asks to see the video, Suguru wants to kiss him.
So that’s what it is, Suguru thinks to himself, realization dawning on him like a brand new day. This is where that tiny corner in his mind would take him, and now that he’s here — he doubts he’ll ever want to leave.
4:34 A.M.
“I’m fucking spent,” Satoru sighs into the quiet of the hallway after walking around the castle some more with Suguru. “I’m gonna take a shower before going to bed. You can go ahead.”
Suguru barely catches himself as he stumbles, because he’s apparently a fucking klutz in front of people he likes.
Not that he’d know anything about it, but this evening has been all about discovering new things about himself and it’s not over yet.
“No, I’ll —“ Suguru has to stop to clear his throat. “I’ll probably shower too. It was fucking hot out.”
Satoru’s eyes light up then, suddenly excited. “Wanna sneak into the Prefect’s Bathroom?”
“Are you insane? Are you trying to get us expelled right before graduation?”
“I’m not the one who started spitting out bad ideas, man,” Satoru stares at him accusingly, shaking the broom he’s holding in his hand before darting in the direction of the Slytherin dormitory. “Better be quick if you don’t wanna get caught naked at 5AM!”
After grabbing a change of clothes and safely depositing Satoru’s broom next to his bed, they head towards the Prefect’s Bathroom with Suguru grumbling under his breath and Satoru skipping through the hallways like a seven-year-old stuck in an eighteen-year-old’s body.
“Will you pipe the hell down?” Suguru hisses, looking over his shoulder. “Someone could hear you!”
“Like who? Nearly Headless Nick?” Satoru scoffs, but stops skipping to walk alongside Suguru. “Please, even ghosts know to leave us alone.”
“Because you’re an insufferable brat and they discovered that at the first meeting!”
“Suguru, do you ever get tired of insulting me?” Satoru pouts, nudging his shoulder against the other boy’s. “Would it kill you to compliment me once? You’re hurting my feelings, bro.”
“I compliment you all the time!” In my head.
“Huh? No, you don’t,” Satoru snorts, already letting the matter go. “It’s fine, though. I know how you really feel, it’s okay, I promise.”
Suguru opts to shove him until he’s at the other side of the hallway, but his heart is pounding and he feels warm all over again.
Satoru, you have no idea.
5:01 A.M.
Suguru is convinced that he came down with a fever at some point in the night, that he’s lying in his bed right now and that all this is just one sick fever dream he needs to wake up from. Immediately.
Because Satoru is in the enormous tub that might as well be a small swimming pool within the Prefect’s Bathroom, looking like a god underneath the moonlight because he didn’t even bother turning the fucking lights on.
He’s just sitting there, his head pillowed by the rim of the tub, eyes closed and breaths steady like Suguru isn’t about to get naked and take a bath with him.
Granted, it’s not the first time they’ve seen each other bare, but Suguru — he’s. His mind is only beginning to catch up to his heart, and the scene in front of him looks so divine when he’s finally learned to see everything through rose-tinted glasses.
So there he stands, body still as a statue, face as hot as the rising sun. Before his gawking gets too weird, however, he makes the split-second decision to caution to the wind and starts stripping himself.
When he descends into the water, Satoru speaks.
“I could fall asleep here,” he whispers. His eyes are closed, sunglasses discarded. “Please tell me you’re willing to carry me to bed.”
“Fuck no.” Suguru whispers back, laughing slightly. He fears that if he talks too loudly, or moves too suddenly, the spell cast over them will be broken. For now, he revels in this peace.
“Mmm,” Satoru hums, smiling despite himself. “T’was worth a shot.”
Turns out, Suguru didn’t have to be scared of shattering the peace, because Satoru does it himself when he sits upright and swims further into the tub.
And then Suguru remembers that they’re not here for leisure. They’re here to shower, like Satoru wanted to, because he’s all sweaty from flying circles around the Whomping Willow — and Suguru, like the lovestruck fool that he is, came to tag along.
I will not confess while we’re in the shower, Suguru thinks desperately. Begs himself to behave and get a grip because it’s only Satoru. This is nothing he hasn’t seen before.
When he swims to find his own place, Suguru makes the mistake of looking over his shoulder.
Satoru is already looking at him with a soft smile on his face, although a little confused.
“Why are you so far away?”
“What? Dude, I’m gonna shower,” Suguru tries to reason and hopes that the bathroom is dark enough to shield his reddening cheeks. “I don’t wanna see your goodies while I shower.”
“My goodies?” Satoru bursts out laughing, nearly falling into the water. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Shut the fuck up, you’re so fucking loud,” Suguru shushes him. Maybe if he tries hard enough, he’ll make flustered look annoyed on him. “Do you not understand that it’s almost sunrise and neither of us are prefects?”
“Who cares?” Satoru runs a hand through his wet hair.
“I get that you have a god complex but we can still be expelled any time, man,” Suguru reminds him.
He hears Satoru mutter a careless Whatever before silence befalls them once more, only being disrupted by water moving around them and dripping back into the tub.
Suguru barely notices time passing them by before he hears Satoru sigh and the small sound lights him on fire all over again.
“‘M done.” Satoru murmurs. Suguru doesn’t have to turn around to know that he’s swimming back to the rim of the tub, probably to take a nap while he waits.
“You can go ahead,” Suguru repeats the words Satoru said to him what feels like a lifetime ago, because he feels like he aged ten years just by choking his own feelings down while he showers with the object of his affections just within reach. “I’ll be done soon.”
“No, I’ll wait.”
Suguru doesn’t have the energy to tell him no.
“Hey, Suguru,” Satoru speaks again, just as Suguru finishes washing up. The latter takes a hand and squeezes water out of his hair, humming to let Satoru know he heard him. “When did you hear those fourth years say that? About me?”
Suguru doesn’t freeze up, but he does hesitate and that alone counts as a failure on his part because a moment’s hesitation is all it takes for Satoru to notice. “The other day. Library. I was getting some books and they were on the other side of the shelves.”
“We were on the field all day that time,” Satoru says matter-of-factly, like he’s talking about the weather. “And you were knocked out cold as soon as we went back to the dormitories after dinner. I remember.”
“Huh,” Suguru turns towards him, yet avoiding his eyes. He swims towards the rim of the tub, looking for his towel. “Must’ve been some other time then.”
“When?”
“Man, I don’t know,” Suguru huffs. “We’re not always attached at the hip, so I might’ve heard it when you weren’t around.”
“You’re also never in the library without me.” Satoru ignores him, leaning back to stare up at the ceiling.
“Dude, I hang with other people too, you know.”
“When you study? Not a chance,” Satoru snorts. “You like studying alone. But if you’re not alone, you’re usually with me. That’s how it goes.”
“Woah, where the hell is all this coming from?” Suguru frowns at his friend, before mimicking his position but his head turned towards the side of Satoru’s. “Why do you wanna know so bad, anyways?”
“Nothing, I’m just… thinking,” Satoru closes his eyes then, like he’s frustrated over something. “Because if you heard something like that, you would’ve told me. Immediately. Plus I would’ve already caught wind about some fourth years being scared half to death by Getou Suguru in the library by now.”
“Why would I scare some kids half to death?!”
“Are you saying you wouldn’t?” Satoru looks at him with a raised eyebrow. “I know I would. If I heard someone talking about you like that.”
It takes everything in Suguru to not melt into the water. He allows himself a small smile — one that’s wiped clean off his face when Satoru keeps talking.
“So why’d you lie?”
Suguru thinks back to the beginning of it all, trying to find the main catalyst of everything that happened tonight. He knows what it is, and he’s a little scared about how the whole situation has come full circle, and he doesn’t want Satoru to think that Suguru sees him as some kind of weakling who deserves pity, but. He supposes there’s nothing embarrassing about caring a little more than he lets on.
“I just wanted to help you take your mind off things,” Suguru tells him quietly. “After what happened this week, I… I just wanted to make you happy.”
Suguru recalls the previous days — how Satoru has been pushing himself too hard in everything. His studies. Quidditch. Perfecting his Patronus charm even when it’s already better than everyone else’s. Practicing spells in the Room of Requirement, because somehow it’s been showing itself to him a lot more often. Suguru sees the little things, and they appear louder to him because he knows what kickstarted all this in the first place.
“You were so sad,” Suguru furrows his eyebrows, pulling his gaze away from Satoru to stare at the water instead. “And I know that when you get sad, you look for distractions. You don’t want to feel it. I’m not about to start questioning why you try to forget about having emotions rather than facing them head-on, so I figured the best thing I could do was to look for a distraction so great that you forget why you were so sad in the first place.
“It’s not possible, though. It’s too heavy of a situation. But I thought that maybe… just for tonight… you could let go. And nothing makes you let go faster than flying does.”
“So you goaded me into battling the fucking Whomping Willow?” Satoru sounds dubious, like he’s grasping at the pieces of a puzzle he just doesn’t understand.
Suguru shrugs. “You needed a distraction, I gave it to you in the form of a challenge. It worked, didn’t it?”
“But why?”
“Huh? I just told you why.”
“I mean — like —“ Satoru sighs, frustrated. “Why put in so much effort? Dude, you could’ve just taken me to Hogsmeade or something. This whole plan feels too… grand. Too big to only be a pick-me-up.”
Suguru knows, and he hates that he just found out, because Satoru’s right. It is too grand. Too extra. But his willingness to put effort in everything involving Satoru — it all stems from the one thing he failed to notice until earlier than evening. The one thing he had no idea how to explain to himself yet, let alone to Satoru.
I don’t need to explain, though, Suguru hears himself say in his mind. It’s simple. I haven’t figured it all out yet, but I know this much.
The air is tense, and Suguru can feel Satoru’s gaze on him as he waits. He doesn’t remember when he started liking the feeling of being watched by those pretty blue eyes.
“I guess I just love you so much that I always think you’re worth the effort.”
Suguru feels weightless when he says all the words in one breath, like breaking free from something that has been holding him down. He refuses to think about how he couldn’t even last a day without telling Satoru everything on his mind, their friendship built on honesty that comes too naturally to the both of them.
He waits for Satoru to tease him, maybe even accuse him of being a sappy son of a bitch and a filthy but damn good liar. He waits for the shove, Satoru’s hand grabbing a fistful of his hair before slamming his head into the water.
None of them ever come.
What arrives, Suguru thinks dazedly, is something much better.
Satoru grabs him by the arm, a sense of urgency in every single one of his movements as Suguru turns to look at him. And then —
There are hands framing Suguru’s face, and soft lips pressing insistently against his own.
Suguru has half the mind to cradle the back of Satoru’s head, keeping him there, pressed up against him, while the other wraps around his waist to bring him closer. Neither of them know what they’re doing, but it works just like everything about them does.
Suguru nibbling on Satoru’s lower lip, Satoru breathing out a moan so soft Suguru had to strain his ears to catch it. Satoru sucking on Suguru’s tongue like he can’t get enough of him, Suguru’s arm tightening around Satoru’s waist. Satoru wrapping his arms around Suguru’s neck, Suguru kissing him into the day that awaits them as the sun begins to rise outside the window.
Satoru gives him one final peck and pulls away, grinning at the way Suguru chases after him.
“You’re a sappy son of a bitch,” he mumbles against his lips. “Who taught you how to lie like that?”
Suguru pulls away from him just enough to halt the kisses, groaning. “I knew you were gonna fucking say that, you absolute dick…”
“You made me fight the Whomping Willow because I was sulking over my dead cat,” Satoru snorts, eyes crinkling at the edges. Suguru tries to stop himself from kissing them, but then he realizes he doesn’t have to anymore — so he just does. Satoru kisses him square on the chest. “Who fucking thinks of that shit, man? I would’ve already appreciated a hug had you offered. You’re so fucking weird.”
“You’re the one who can’t stop kissing this weirdo,” Suguru mutters against Satoru’s shoulder, letting himself feel the butterfly kisses being pressed against his neck. “That says a lot about you too, no?”
“Aw shit, I need to re-evaluate all my major life decisions until this point. You’re the worst person to fall in love with.”
“Like you’re any better?” Suguru looks at him incredulously and scoffs. “You’re an asshole with a superiority complex who thinks he’s better than everyone. If anything, I’m getting the short end of the stick here.”
“Get outta here. You fucking love me.”
Suguru watches Satoru pull away from him, only to rise out of the tub and wrap a bathrobe around himself.
For the nth time, he allows himself to look.
When Satoru turns to look at him, the smile never really dropping from his face, Suguru sighs. He’s never going to get tired of that.
“Yeah,” he’s helpless to agree, especially when Satoru helps him up and wraps a bathrobe around him, too. “I do.”
6:13 A.M.
Sunrise finds them in Satoru’s bed, cuddling in nothing but plain shirts and boxers. Suguru thinks that they should probably be catching up on sleep right now, thankful that it’s the weekend and they won’t be expected anywhere today.
If they could only stop kissing in between their whispered conversations.
Suguru is nosing against Satoru’s jaw when the latter speaks again.
“I don’t think I’m better than everyone,” He says quietly, fingers scratching Suguru’s scalp so gently that the other has to fight to keep himself awake.
“Yeah, you do,” he murmurs into Satoru’s neck, kissing him there. “Don’t even try to deny it.”
“I don’t think I’m better than you, at least.”
Suguru pulls himself up, leaning his weight on his elbows that rest on either side of Satoru’s head. “Really now?”
“Of course not,” Satoru pecks him once on the lips, because he can. “I don’t date people who are weak.”
Suguru lets out a quiet pffft, smiling wide and all kinds of sappy, mushy emotions filling him to the brim.
Underneath him, Satoru gives him a smile that has him falling in love all over again.
Enamored and entirely smitten, Suguru leans down to taste it.