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It’s summer, Satoru thinks. Mosquitos are a fucking menace.
The sun beams on his skin, and a pool of sweat is growing on the nape of his neck. He leans back in the cheap foldable chair, stretching himself out as he waits for his classmate. He regrets waking up earlier than usual today, but it wasn’t his fault.
A devilish-looking mosquito swarm was buzzing nearby, and he thinks about swatting at them until Shoko shows up out of the blue, her bag swung over her shoulder loosely and her posture straight as usual. Satoru tries to telepathically will her toward the swarm of mosquitos because it’d be funny, but they disperse before she arrives.
“Jackass.” She says, and he blinks at her.
“What’d I do this time?”
“Fell asleep during our study session.” She huffs. Satoru gets up, dusting off his pants, and shrugs.
“I was sleepy.”
Smack!
“Ow! We were basically done anyways!” He makes a dodge before Shoko swings her backpack at him again. She lets out a laugh and starts walking to their destination while Satoru pouts and follows like a sad puppy.
“The new student is pretty cool.” She says after a beat. Satoru, uninterested, is staring at the trail of ants on the ground, following a straight path to a small hill where there are many, many more ants. So many ants. He blinks and wonders what it would be like to live there, where there are endless amounts of creatures that look and act exactly like you. He doesn’t know where this train of thought comes from, but he ponders on it while Shouko’s voice sounds muffled in the background. One of the ant trails go by his feet. Without much thought, he crushes at least six of them with his shoe.
“Hey. Are you listening?”
“Mm-hmm.” Satoru lies, “New student.”
“I was actually talking about the love letter some girl wrote to you.”
“Huh? Really?!” Satoru turns to her, eyes wide, and leans into her personal space with curiosity, “Who?!”
“See, you weren’t actually listening,” Shoko rolls her eyes and pushes his face away, “I pray and pity any girl that falls in love with you.”
“The feeling is mutual.” He mutters back.
Smack!
Two hits in 15 minutes, Satoru thinks as he rubs the back of his head, complaining to Shoko. That must be a new record. He tells her that he thinks he’ll grow a bruise there if Shoko keeps it up, to which she simply responds, “Good.”
When Satoru enters the classroom, someone else is in his seat. The student he’d been introduced to about a week ago that he doesn’t remember the name of. For some reason, Shoko took a liking to him (“he looks like he’d be good at bullying you” were her exact words if Satoru recalls) and told him to sit near her and Satoru next class. He looks around to make sure there are other empty seats around. There are. He straightens up and walks toward the student.
The student is a boy his age with gauged ears and hair in a bun; his hands are grasping a book open, and his eyes quickly dart across the pages. It doesn’t even look like a novel, Satoru notes and looks much more like a textbook. There’s some kind of butterfly design on the front cover. Satoru cocks his head and waves his hand to get his attention. “This is my seat.”
The boy looks up quickly, seemingly startled by the sudden interaction. Then, a rolled-up magazine is struck against the back of Satoru’s head, and he whines aloud. “What?!”
“You sound like a child. Who cares?” Shoko says, striding past the both of them and to her own seat, “He can sit between us. That way, I don’t have to look at you making stupid faces at me during class from the corner of my eye.”
“So mean,” Satoru whines again, “You really sound like a true bully.” He sits in the seat next to the boy, who is holding back a laugh. Satoru beams at the prospect of being an entertainer; Shoko rolls her eyes for the umpteenth time, but he can tell she’s holding back a laugh too.
Satoru learns quickly that his name is Suguru Getou, and when Satoru comes back the next day, he is in the same seat again and again until it is just Suguru’s seat. He doesn’t mind. Neither does Shoko. In fact, the constant bickering between the two get the middle boy involved until he, too, is part of the bickering. Now it’s the three of them, walking to and from school and messing around during lunch without a worry of the future. Or at least Shoko and Satoru didn’t. Suguru went on about being an entomologist.
“A bug scientist,” Satoru says once, “You wanna be a bug scientist?”
“Entomologist.” Suguru flicks a pebble at him. They are on the ground, waiting for Shoko. Satoru insisted they could just sit on the bench nearby, but Suguru wanted to inspect a dead ladybug he found.
“Same thing, just a fancier word.” Satoru flicks the pebble back, “What’s so fun about it?”
“Look,” Suguru points to a row of ants. They were marching in a line toward a small hill, some carrying little crumbs, “Did you know that when ants go to find food, they secrete a chemical that makes a trail to the food? And the other ants follow? And then they just use the same trail to get back.” He explains, looking genuinely fascinated. Satoru just stares at him, not even looking to where he’s pointing, “And y’know, there’s a species of fungus that infects ants and takes control of their bodies.”
“Huh?”
“Yeah.” Suguru is looking at him now, “The fungus infects the ant’s body and makes it leave the ant colony to die. Then, after a while, it releases spores to infect more ants.”
Satoru thinks for a bit, and after a while, he says, “So, like... the ant is a zombie? Zombie ant apocalypse?”
Suguru blinks at him after a pause and then laughs, loud and full; Satoru thinks he might pass out.
Shoko watches the two of them from a distance for weeks and weeks until her irritation rises to the surface and explodes. She drags Satoru away to taunt him about how obvious he and Suguru have been lately and to make a move already. Satoru just blinks, and Shoko thinks she might slap him before realizing he’s seriously confused. So, she leaves it and lets them do it on their own. She doesn’t know when it’s going to happen, but she’ll wait, even if she has to roll her eyes a thousand more times.
The ant colony that Suguru used as an example is now the subject for his study. “Ant colonies can last up to 25 years,” He says, scribbling away at his notebook, “If I’m lucky, I can watch this ant colony ‘til its very end.” Satoru doesn’t believe him, even if Google disagrees, but he listens to Suguru talk about his ants and whatever other bug he decides to study for the week. At this point, Satoru himself could pass as an entomologist. He was almost grossed out at the beginning when Suguru talked about fungus and mold and animal carcasses, but there’s no way he would tell him to stop. He listened until he could list off at least 20 solid facts about bugs just from memory:
Fact One. Insects are the most successful species on Earth.
“They take up two-thirds of all living species of organisms on the planet,” Suguru explains to him, his leg bumping up and down. They’re supposed to be having a study session at the library. Still, after 20 minutes of studying, Satoru’s chin is resting on his palms, and he’s listening intently to his friend’s bug story, discarding the notes and papers under his elbows. It’s quiet, and the only sounds besides Suguru’s voice are of a few shuffling feet and pages turning. “That’s insane. There are so many bugs.”
“What a pain,” Satoru says, “No matter how many mosquitos I kill, they’re still gonna be around.”
“Mosquitos aren’t that bad.”
“You’re lying,” Satoru pouts at him, “They’re the bane of my existence.”
“Like you are to me?”
“Hey!”
Suguru snickers evil-like and Satoru feigns a hurt expression, “You’re getting way too comfortable being mean to me. It’s like another Shoko. And it’s only been, like, 3 months? 4?”
“I could never reach Shoko’s level,” Suguru says. He lifts a pencil and taps it on Satoru’s head, “Hey. Did you finish your study sheet?”
“You are the one that started talking about bugs.” Satoru replies, not looking down at the paperwork, “I am simply being a good friend and listening.”
Suguru taps him again, “You’ll fail the exam.”
“I never fail.”
Suguru hums, “I guess that’s true. I haven’t seen you do bad yet.”
“See?” Satoru grins and leans back in his seat now, stretching out his arms, “I’ll surpass those bugs as the most successful living thing.”
“Hilarious,” Suguru deadpans, “You kinda do look like a mosquito.”
“Take that back.”
“And act like one, too.”
“Hey!” Satoru huffs aloud, earning a few glances from strangers, “You’re rude.”
The tone of his voice made Suguru laugh this time. Satoru no longer minded looking or acting like a mosquito.
Fact Two. The Horned Dung Beetle is the strongest insect on the planet.
“I’m stronger.” Satoru shoots back when Suguru told him.
“Duh, you’re a person.”
“Well,” Satoru moves positions so his head is on Suguru’s lap now, “If I were a beetle, I’d be the strongest.”
“I know.”
“You agree?” He grins like an idiot, and Suguru rolls his eyes. Second-year, it turns out, is a lot like first-year, except somehow more confusing. However, one thing is the level of closeness that the two boys achieved in a short amount of time. Satoru is with his classmate and best friend in his bedroom, again trying to study and fail. It wasn’t his fault; it was so fun to annoy Suguru.
“I think,” Suguru pauses, “If you were a beetle, you wouldn’t be any species. You’d just be a Gojou Beetle.”
This time, Satoru laughs.
“You would have tiny glasses,” Suguru continues as the other one’s laughs got more incoherent, “and little prickly white hairs. And, of course, you’d be the strongest.”
“I’d probably look the silliest, though.”
“Isn’t that accurate to real life?”
“Hey.” Satoru’s hand goes up to pinch Suguru’s nose (a habit that he picked up from Shoko every time he did something annoying), and Suguru grabs his wrist before it reaches him. Suguru then smiles warmly, and Satoru feels like he might’ve taken the form of the sun itself. He lets his hand go slack, and Suguru holds it for the rest of the study session. Even when he sits up, Suguru’s slender fingers are wrapped around his hand, feeling the contrast of his rough skin with the others' soft touch. Neither of them says anything of it.
Satoru thinks that if they were beetles, Suguru would be his weakness.
Fact Three. Queen Bees can sting you multiple times because their stinger is not barbed like the worker honey bees.
“Ouch.” Satoru hisses and tries to rub his hand over the sting, but Suguru smacks it and tsks at him.
“Don’t touch it.” He pulls out an ice pack and leans forward to scrape out the stinger still stuck in Satoru’s skin.
“Just get tweezers.”
“No,” Suguru scrapes out the stinger with his fingernail and disposes of it, “If I use tweezers, it might squeeze out more of the venom from it inside your skin.”
“Dramatic.”
“Safe,” Suguru argues and wipes over the sting with a gauze, now cold and wet with water. He presses a small ice pack against it, “By the way, did you really have to tell the professor that you’re allergic to bee stings?”
“Class was getting boring,” Satoru grins menacingly, “Football isn’t my strongest suit anyway, and I know you were getting bored, too.”
Suguru rolls his eyes at his friends’ childishness, “We’ll get in trouble if we’re found out. Shoko knows you’re not allergic to bee stings.”
“She’s not a snitch.” Satoru grins again, looking like a fool, but it makes Suguru’s heart skip weirdly.
“Did you really have to mess with the beehive? If the bees ended up stinging someone else-”
“But they didn’t,” Satoru sing-songs, still grinning, “If you took it that seriously, you would’ve told the professor yourself, anyways.”
Suguru doesn’t have a response to that, instead choosing to stare at the ice pack pressed on the small patch of slightly swollen skin around Satoru’s palm. It’s quiet in the storage room, but there’s a small window cramped with potted plants and cacti, making the sun rays look like bright blotches on the floor and walls. They can hear the muffled chirping of birds, and Satoru wonders if he can stay here forever like this with Suguru holding his hand and the gentle noises relaxing the both of them.
“Hey,” Satoru suddenly says, feeling like there’s a hamster wheel in his voicebox that prevents him from shutting up, “Aren’t you going to kiss it better?”
It’s supposed to be a joke, Satoru thinks, but I’m an idiot. The air feels thick between them suddenly, and Satoru thinks about doing a loud, crackly laugh to break the tension, knowing he said something weird and unnecessary and stupid, and God, why did he have to say that?
Suguru looks up at him when he says it, and Satoru cannot read his expression. His throat feels heavy, and his ears burn. Eyes shift to his hand and back to him. Then, Suguru leans down. His lips meet the gauze pressed over the bee sting, and Suguru feels his body freeze like if he moves, the moment will be over. It lingers for only a few seconds, and then he’s back in his previous position, making eye contact with the flustered boy in the seat in front of him.
“Better?” Suguru asks, and it clicks in Satoru’s brain that he’s teasing him, doing something unexpected like that and flustering him on purpose.
“Yeah.” He replies, forcing a voice out of his throat. It’s quiet for the rest of the time they’re there until Shoko comes to check in after class.
Fact Four. Fireflies find each other with light patterns.
The power went out 20 minutes ago, a thunderstorm striking on their tiny town unexpectedly. Fortunately, though, Suguru was not alone and had come over to Satoru’s for another study session. They were told to stay in their place until the storm ceased, so Suguru turned on his phone flashlight and left it facing up to illuminate the small room. There was nothing else to do, so he was going on about fireflies.
“The female just sits in one place until a male comes by and flashes his lights at her. If she’s interested, then she’ll flashback, and he’ll make his way to her.”
Satoru lets out a loud laugh.
“What’s funny?”
“Imagine if it were that easy,” Satoru grins wide, trying to tease him, but Suguru just rolls his eyes, “Waving a flashlight at a girl until she decides to hook up with you.” He laughs again.
Suguru looks like he wants to say something, or like something is stuck in his mouth, and he can’t let it out. He stays quiet and simply watches the window; the small section covered by the curtain is dark and wet. Every few seconds, there’s a flash, and then a loud crack in the sky erupts and fills everyone’s ears.
“What’s wrong?” Satoru asks him, still keeping a light-hearted tone in case it’s not that serious.
“Just thinking.”
“About what?”
Suguru pauses and then looks at him with his hand on his chin, “Have you ever kissed a girl, Satoru?”
“Eh?” Satoru blinks. Lighting. Then, boom.
Suguru chuckles a bit, shaking his head, “Nevermind.”
Satoru swallows, and it feels thick. “I haven’t.”
“Really?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Not even Shoko?” He jokes.
“Ew.” He says it like a reflex, and Suguru laughs aloud now. Satoru’s chest feels heavy with something, and he wants to get rid of it, so he keeps talking, “Tell me more about fireflies.”
Suguru smiles, and his eyes crinkle a bit. Satoru looks away. “Fireflies are a type of beetle, and there are actually different species of fireflies.”
“Huh?”
“One species has yellow or amber light, and one glows blue instead of flashing light. There are a few others that are different.”
Satoru leans forward with interest, chin perched on the palms of his hands as he shifts to lay on his stomach. Suguru laughs again at his position and shifts himself, so he matches him face-to-face. “More.”
“There are non-bioluminescent fireflies, too,” Suguru continues, “They use pheromones to attract potential mates.”
“What’s the point of calling them fireflies, then?”
Suguru shrugs, and Satoru shifts forward a bit. He almost thinks it’s a mistake because of how close their faces are, but the other man doesn’t say anything of it. Lighting flashes in the room, then a loud strike seconds later.
“Surprised you’re not talking about how you would be the greatest firefly.” Suguru teases him.
“I’d be the brightest,” Satoru assures with a grin.
You already are, Suguru wants to say, but he lets it sit on his tongue. They wait for the power to come back, bickering to each other about fireflies for the rest of the time in the dark.
Fact Five. The Picasso Moth. This isn’t really a fact, but Satoru found it interesting nonetheless when Suguru told him.
“The scientific name is Baorisa hieroglyphica.” He says, and Satoru blinks.
“Bless you.”
Suguru laughs and nudges him with his shoulder. The grass under them is slightly damp from the rain, so they’re both in a comfortable squat to prevent their clothes from getting wet. The ant colony is a few feet away.
“Did they really name the whole species after Picasso?”
“It’s just a nickname,” the other says, “Since it’s probably one of the prettiest moths ever. It looks like someone painted on it.”
“Boring.” Satoru stretches out his arms, thinking of what to say that’ll make Suguru laugh like that again so that he can hear it.
“I’m boring?” Suguru jokes.
“Oh, sooo boring,” Satoru drawls out and lets his head flop on the other shoulder. Suguru tries to nudge him off, but he’s persistent at being annoying, “You sound like a professor.”
“Hmm,” Suguru thinks for a bit, leaving the other in silence for a few seconds before speaking, “Not a bad idea.”
“Thought you wanted to be an ento… mology?.” Satoru says dumbly. Suguru tries to hide his grin.
“I meant for you.”
“Me? A professor?” Satoru lets out a snort, “Are you trying to ruin my life?”
“I’m just saying, I usually do better when I study with you.”
Satoru tries to ignore the intense feeling in his stomach, lifting his head to look at Suguru now. He’s smiling genuinely, looking at Satoru like he’s waiting for some kind of response.
“I guess.” He says, then thinks it over again, “I haven’t really thought about it.”
“You know a lot,” Suguru replies, “And you’re good at relaying that information to others in a way that they’ll understand.”
Usually, Satoru outwardly beams at any praise he receives with a flamboyant and loud response, but this time he is quiet and staring at the other with bewilderment and… embarrassment? Fear? Something was knotting in Satoru’s stomach that made him want to run away. He sat completely still, though, staring at the other young man.
“You also know a lot,” Satoru says back, thinking over the several things about bugs Suguru has told about him these past 3 years, “And you tell me.”
“I’m not really interested in that,” He says, “It was just a suggestion, anyways.”
He smiles then, and Satoru suddenly realizes he wants to kiss him.
I want to kiss you. He tries to will himself to say it. He’s always been straightforward, bold, not fearful of what reaction he might get from saying something odd or asking a question. Why is this any different? If he says it and Suguru reciprocates, dope. If he doesn’t, then he can just apologize and move on. They’ve always been like that, not letting things get in between them because they know whatever they have is too strong of a connection to let go of over things like that. So why is he so scared?
Then, he realizes how physically close they are, and that makes it feel worse. He blinks, staring at the other. Suguru has a different expression now, and once again, Satoru can’t read it at all.
“Hey.” He croaks out after a long, long period of silence. Suguru quirks up an eyebrow and lets out a breathy laugh. The tension is lifted a bit, but Satoru’s hands are still undoubtedly clenched tighter than ever.
Suguru snickers at him again and pulls something from his pocket.
“You’re going to drug me?” Satoru says, and Suguru smacks his forehead in response, almost tipping him over.
“I wanted to test this out,” He continues, and the other sees that he’s holding a miniature glass bottle filled with some sort of clear liquid. He uncaps it and pours some of it onto his finger.
“What sort of chemical is th- Oi, get away from me-” Satoru blabbers as the other reaches out to his face.”
“Not a chemical.” Suguru scolds him and wipes whatever is on his finger onto Satoru’s cheek. He rubs it around a bit, and Satoru freezes, “It’s sugar water. Relax.”
“You sure did make it seem dramatic,” Satoru mumbles, “Why are you putting it on my face, anyway? Wouldn’t it be easier on your hand?”
“It’s not about it being easy,” Suguru says, “I’ve held butterflies countless times, but I’ve never had one on my face. I just want to see if it works.” He puts the bottle back into his pocket and shuffles away from Satoru a bit, “You have to hold still and be quiet.”
Satoru now knew the location they picked for today wasn’t just because of the ant farm, but because butterflies were abundant in this particular field. It is a less popular area for people and children to roam around. Plus, the flowers and plants were in their ripest state. Suguru wanted to try this experiment before autumn came, and everything shriveled up.
“I don’t think it’s going to work,” Satoru says after a pause, but Suguru just hushes him. Sure enough, though, Suguru’s patience rewards him as he sees a nearby butterfly making its way to the two. Satoru goes completely still, and Suguru dabs a bit more of the sugar water onto the same cheek again for good measure. The butterfly, a small blue little thing, flickers about until it reaches Satoru’s face and chooses its landing spot: right on his cheek. Satoru beams but tries not to move too much.
Suguru is beaming too, his mouth agape in a happy grin, and his eyes crinkled. They’re like two little boys seeing an insect for the first time. Suguru takes advantage of the moment and snaps several photos of the other with his phone.
Then, Satoru pouts when he realizes the butterfly isn’t getting off, “She’s obsessed with me,” he says. Suguru rolls his eyes and moves forward.
“Butterflies basically smell with their feet. Your cheek smells good to it, so it’s staying, probably cuz I put a lot on.” Suguru explains that the butterfly only flickers a bit when he moves close but doesn’t leave.
“Well, get it off,” Satoru huffs, “I’m tired, and you’ll probably cry if I killed it.”
“Shut up.”
Satoru snickers but goes quiet when Suguru raises his hand towards his face slowly. The butterfly doesn’t move, so Suguru cups the others' cheek and carefully rubs his thumb over the area. The insect takes the hint and pops off of his cheek, fluttering away quickly. But Suguru’s hand remains, and he’s no longer looking at the bug or the area with the sugar water. Satoru stares at him like there’s nothing else in the world, and his heart feels like it’s in his ears.
And when Suguru kisses him, it’s like he’s been lit on fire.
It ends so quickly, though, because Satoru pulls away in panic and ends up slipping against the wet grass. He plops on the ground, eyes wide. Suguru is almost embarrassed and looks like he’s about to apologize, but the expression on the other's face makes him laugh harder than he’s laughed all month.
The second kiss is better, and Satoru decides to hold his face this time, feeling his cheeks with his thumbs. Satoru never thought it would feel like this, but he doesn’t regret it because his heart is pounding and everything else is drowned out, and there’s only Suguru. Their clothes are probably blotted in grass and stains from the rainwater, and neither of them cares. It’s not as elegant as they see in the movies, but Satoru thinks he likes it just because it's Suguru he’s kissing. If it were anyone else, he thinks, it wouldn’t feel anything like this.
Fact Six. When ants fight, it’s usually to death.
“Brutal,” Satoru says. A few feet away is Suguru’s ant farm that’s been the subject of his study for 2 years. Suguru had explained to him minutes ago a group of ants are piling over and mauling one singular ant that trespassed on their land. One ant colony will fight endlessly to protect food and resources for their home, even if it means destroying their kin.
“They’re just protecting themselves,” Suguru says, but he also nods like he still agrees with the other, “It takes years to build an ant colony.”
“I guess,” Satoru huffs, then looks at him, “You’d be better as a professor.”
“This again?” Suguru tries to laugh, “Told you, not really my thing.”
“You teach me all the time.”
“Cause I’m comfortable with it.”
“Really?”
“I’m comfortable with you.” When Suguru says this, it’s not in a teasing tone. He looks at him like he means it, and Satoru feels like his heart clench, “Feel like I wouldn’t be as comfortable with a whole group of strangers years younger than me.”
“You’re too hard on yourself,” Satoru coos, nudging him, and the other rolls his eyes, “Really! I’m starting to think you just say this stuff ‘cuz you want me to keep complimenting you.” He jokes, and now a grin is on Suguru’s face.
“Guilty as charged.”
They laugh and decide to head back to campus.
“Tell me more about the ants,” Satoru says after a few beats of silence. He likes hearing him talk, and Suguru likes talking when it’s him who’s listening. Suguru lets his hand drift to Satoru’s as they’re walking, their knuckles brushing against each other for a moment.
“An ant can lift to 20 times its own body weight.” Suguru starts, and Satoru shakes his head.
“You loser, I looked up ant facts yesterday, and that was the first one.” This made Suguru laugh; just the prospect of Satoru hunching over his laptop with furrowed brows trying to find ant facts to surprise the other but instead coming across a children’s learning site.
“Okay,” Suguru thinks for a second, “You know how humans have X and Y chromosomes? Ants don’t, and instead, their sex is determined by the number of genome copies it has. Male ants actually grow from unfertilized eggs, so they don’t receive any genome from a father. This basically means that male ants don’t have a father and can’t have sons.” He smiles when he’s done, and Satoru blinks.
“That’s weird.”
“It’s cool.” Suguru nudges him, and this time Satoru gets tired of lingering and just grasps the other's hand in his. Suguru doesn’t say anything, but the other swears he could see the slightest shade of pink dusting his cheeks.
“I’m convinced you just have a whole novel of bug information in your brain.” Satoru wants to flick his forehead but also doesn’t want to let go of his hand. He opts to just stick his tongue out like a child while Suguru crinkles his nose.
“Maybe I do,” The other says, “We should get a doctor to pop open my head and take a look.”
“There won’t even be a brain, just a fat textbook in your empty skull.”
Now, Suguru lets go of his hand to smack the other's forehead.
Fact Seven. The largest known order of insects is beetles.
“There are over 300,000 species of beetles,” Suguru says to him, “I think they’re my favorite, besides butterflies.”
“That’s how many times I’m gonna kiss you,” Satoru replies smugly and quick, so Suguru doesn’t move onto the next sentence too fast. Maybe 3 years ago, Suguru would have blushed and scuttered away, but today he flicks Satoru’s forehead in response. Sitting across from each other on such a small school desk, it was like a daily routine at this point.
“You’re all bite, no bark.”
“Not true.” Satoru quips and leans forward, lips puckering, but now Suguru quickly covers his mouth with his hand and grins mischievously, watching Satoru’s bright eyes pop open in surprise.
“I’m not done,” Suguru says and continues with his hand on the mouth of the other, “The scientific name for beetles is Coleoptera, by the way. Butterflies are the second-largest species, the scientific name being Lepidoptera.”
Satoru moves his head away to speak, “How do you remember those silly names?”
“They aren’t that hard to remember.”
“They’re all super long and have 10 syllables.”
“It’s not any different from you memorizing quadratic equations, or whatever the fuck.”
“That’s middle school stuff, dude,” Satoru snickers at him, “You’re falling behind that much?”
“Shut up.”
The sun beams on Suguru’s face, pouring in from the window and making his face glow. Satoru wants to keep making fun of him, but he just stares, chin propped on his palms, at the heavenly sight before him. Gay. He thinks to himself. Jeez.
“You’re so irritating,” Suguru says after a long period of none of them speaking. Satoru blinks. Then, Suguru is kissing him.
It somehow still takes him by surprise, how suddenly he feels like his heart is exploding when the other man’s lips are on him. The feeling is so familiar, so etched into his everyday life, yet he wants to relish in it as he’ll never feel it again. He tries to reach for him, but Suguru is holding his wrists now. Not in a forceful way, but still locked on stubbornly as if to say I’m kissing you. Not the other way around.
Satoru lets him.
Fact Eight. Butterflies retain memories from when they were caterpillars.
“I don’t believe it,” Shoko says.
“Why not?” Kento argues, shifting on the cool hard floor with his arms crossed, “Makes sense. It’s not like they turn into a different being altogether.”
“They kinda do.”
“Not really.”
“That’s not the point.” Suguru cuts in again, shaking his cards in the air. Five of them were circled around a pile of cards, and Satoru had lost track of what game they were playing.
“What kind of memories would caterpillars even need to retain?” Utahime says, and Shoko nods.
“They did a study,” Suguru continues, and Satoru doesn’t say anything. He tries to hide his smile behind his cards, “As a caterpillar, they provided an odor accompanied with an electric shock, which the caterpillar started to avoid. When it turned into a butterfly, it avoided the odor even though it hadn’t been shocked yet.”
Kento is nodding for some reason. Shoko is staring at her cards. Utahime is looking at Suguru, squinting, like she’s trying to decide if he’s lying or not. He just grins, knowing that Satoru is listening well behind the barrier of his cards.
“This is a dumb game. Let's do two truths one lie.” Shoko slaps her cards onto the floor and crosses her legs, “Who first?”
“That’s not even a fun game,” Kento says, and Shoko sticks her tongue at him.
“I’ll go,” Suguru says.
“Make it interesting.”
Suguru taps his chin dramatically like he’s thinking hard. Satoru snickers. The abandoned club room probably had layers of dust and grime everywhere, Kento had pointed out previously, but there was no other place of privacy to go to while the winds were howling outside. Autumn was upon them. The window was closed and locked shut, but every now and then, the winds would get so loud and strong it almost seemed like it would tear the windows right off.
“Okay,” Suguru starts after a few beats of silence. Two truths, one lie. I have a pet fish named Lia. My moon sign is Taurus. I have two scars above my stomach, right under my chest.”
“Fuck.” Shoko immediately says, and a round of snickers fills the room. Kento makes an expression like he’s thinking very hard, and it makes Satoru laugh harder.
Satoru ends up winning. They all thought he was lying about the pet fish and called it an unfair round after Suguru said he got the fish 2 days ago and hadn’t told anyone. Even if Satoru didn’t know that he thinks, he still would have known because he’s taken off Suguru’s binder and felt the soft skin under his chest. There are no scars. He knows. He would have felt it.
“This wasn’t even fair,” Utahime says with a grunt, “You two are macking on each other 24/7 anyways, so duh Gojou would know that.”
This statement makes Suguru’s face go bright pink, and all Satoru does is laugh while the others snicker and tease endlessly. It feels like a disaster how quickly their game turned into another game which turned into several rounds of teasing each other and laughing so loud it bounced off the walls and doubled in volume.
Somewhere in the madness, Satoru reaches for his hand. He accepts it quietly.
Fact Nine. Termite queens can live up to 25 to 50 years.
“Insanely long,” Satoru says, the exhaustion weighing his body down and pressing into the bed. How’d they ended up like this, he wonders? He doesn’t remember. The graduation ceremony lasted hours, and the party afterward lasted… decades, it feels like. His head spins, but he still listens to Suguru and wonders how he’s not also falling apart.
“Almost as long as how that ceremony felt,” Suguru says like he’s reading the mind of the other. He smiles, “You’re gonna sleep?”
“Nah. I wanna listen to you. Keep talking.”
Suguru laughs, “You’re the only person who wants to listen to me spout bug facts after hours of speeches, yelling, and dancing over loud music.”
“That’s why you keep me around,” Satoru says.
“That’s not the only reason.”
Satoru’s eyes are closed, but he perks up at that, a flicker of a smile on his face for a moment. He ignores the warmth on his cheeks and opens an eye to look at the man sitting beside him.
“Corny.”
“You’re worse.” Suguru quips, and Satoru just laughs. Suguru’s heart soars, and he smacks an uncoordinated kiss onto the other's mouth, pulling back just as quickly.
“Hey, give me a proper one, you slacker.”
“You’re tired.”
“Don’t care,” Satoru puckers his lips, and Suguru grins. He just covers his mouth and lets Satoru lazily kiss the palm of his hand, “Termite queens just live inside their whole lives?”
“Yup,” Suguru says, “They’re busy reproducing and eating.”
“Gross.”
“That’s just their purpose.”
“Boring!” Satoru sticks his tongue out, and Suguru pinches his nose, “I’d die if I had to stay in the same place my whole life.”
“You’re not staying in Tokyo?”
“No way,” Satoru grunts. He rubs his head and closes his eyes, feeling another wave of dizziness wash over him. He leans into Suguru’s side, wishing he’d closed the window when he came in. The gusts of wind are passing into the room and making him shiver. Winter is approaching, he thinks. “I’d die.” He repeats.
“Where will you go?”
“We’re gonna go somewhere far away out in the middle of nowhere. There’ll be lots of trees and plants and no people. No annoyances.”
“We?”
“You and me,” He opens his eyes, looking at the other man in the bed next to him, “Runaway with me, Suguru.”
The other blinks and pauses, and Satoru think for a moment that he’s said something wrong. He’s almost ready to make a joke out of it and chalk it up to being too tired, but then Suguru is kissing him again. When he pulls away, he has a look on his face that makes Satoru’s heart skip.
“We’ll do it.”
Fact Ten. Wasps can be found everywhere except Antarctica.
“Let’s go there,” Satoru says. There are papers scattered underneath his arms all over the desk; he could point out opened books and loose sheets with scribbles and notes from several places in his compact dorm room.
“Antarctica?” Suguru says, “You’re hilarious.”
“Hey, no wasps. Nothing would bother us.”
“We’d both die.” Suguru turns another page of his notes to continue his writing. Over time, their conversations became less bickering and more of just him being blunt and Satoru continuing to be an annoyance. Nevertheless, they both study for different subjects yet share the same space as usual. College feels like more of a mess than high school was, Satoru thinks. Suguru is on the bed, his notes neatly stacked in one pile and alone textbook by his side.
“But wasps…”
“Cold.”
Satoru is looking at him now, but Suguru isn’t looking back. He rests his head in his arms, inspecting how dark Suguru’s eyes look now and the area around them looking almost sunken. The wrinkle between his brows and the tension on his face makes Satoru want to lay in bed with him and run his fingers through his hair to let him know it’s okay to talk, but he doesn’t do that. He doesn’t say anything.
He turns away and picks up his notebook, dreaming of Antarctica.
Fact Eleven. Bees have two stomachs—one for food and the other for storing nectar.
Suguru doesn’t tell him this one. Instead, Satoru finds it while snooping through his class notebooks. He finds a loose sheet of paper, worn-out like it was old (probably from high school, he thinks; Suguru was always sentimental about keeping physical objects from the past), covered in notes about honey bees. Underneath the old page, however, is a blue form. It’s signed already. Under that are travel documents. He feels the dread sink in.
When Suguru kisses him, he feels like he’s drowning, and it’s the most alive he’s ever felt. He wants to drown in Suguru again and again and make himself feel alive again and again. He holds his face as if he’ll fade away, and Suguru’s hands are on him the same way. He thinks about what Suguru said about disappearing and holds him tighter. Through his touches, the small gasps between kisses, he’s saying don’t go, don’t go.
“Don’t leave,” He catches himself mumbling. Movement slows momentarily, and Satoru wants to hit himself for turning off the lights; he can’t see Suguru’s expression. Even the dim lamp isn’t enough, only being enough to trace some of his features with a pale light.
“I’m not leaving,” Suguru says. “It’d be kind of a dick move to leave in the middle of this.”
Satoru tries to laugh, but his throat feels dry.
“I found the form in your notebook.”
“Oh…”
“You could have—”
“Satoru...”
“If you just told me— I would—”
“Satoru.”
“I mean, I wouldn’t have—"
“Satoru.”
It’s quiet in the space between them, then. Satoru feels like shrinking, but he stays still, and Suguru’s hand is still on his chest over his heartbeat; the glimmer of hope that things will be okay starts to spark in him, knowing full and well that it is a foolish belief. He runs his hands down Suguru’s chest to feel the scars, now healed, and he closes his eyes. He was there for that, he remembers. Years ago, during the game of two truths, one lie. He didn’t have the scars then, but he does now. He was there when he got them. He was there. He can continue to be there if Suguru lets him. He isn’t sure if he’ll let him.
“Say something,” Satoru says thickly.
“Not sure where to start.”
“Just tell me,” Satoru tries not to sound like he’s begging, but it’s hard when he feels like his whole life is being taken away right in front of him, “You’re dropping out, that’s fine. I’m fine with that, okay? It’s your life. But you’re also leaving. You’re—”
“Satoru,” Suguru says again, “I don’t want to argue.”
“I need to know.”
“It’s difficult,” Suguru speaks like he’s trying to swallow something heavy down his throat, “You shouldn’t have been snooping anyways. I was going to tell you.”
“Were you?”
“I was.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not lying.” Suguru sounds blunter, more agitated, “Satoru, I was going to tell you.”
“You’re moving so far and so suddenly; how do you expect me not to be confused? Or upset? Why are you leaving, Suguru?”
Suguru is quiet, then. His hand is still on Satoru’s chest. Satoru has his fingers around his wrist, keeping it there. Feel how hard my heart is beating, he’s saying. It’s for you. It’s always been for you.
“Will you stop me?” Suguru mumbles. Satoru wants to grab him and shake his shoulders.
“What?”
“Will you stop me?” Suguru says more solidly now, “Will you tell Shoko? Tell Nanami? Bombard me to make me stay? You can just do that.”
“I won’t.”
“Why?”
Satoru’s head is spinning, “Why are you leaving?”
Suguru lets out a sigh. Satoru wants to close the space between them and make Suguru stay. He could live in Suguru’s heart, he thinks. It would be warm in there. He could live in his eyes, his ears, his mouth; he would put himself inside Suguru’s being if it meant he could just stay.
“Wasps,” Suguru says and shifts his body. The light from the lamp illuminates more of his face, and Satoru can see the bags under his eyes and the sad smile on his lips, “There are too many wasps here.”
Fact Twelve. In late Autumn, all wasps die except the queens, who hibernate and come back in the Spring.
“You’ll visit in the spring?” Satoru murmurs. Suguru nods. The intercom speakers call for the train passengers.
Satoru wills himself not to chase Suguru when he leaves. He stands, hands in his pockets, and watches his lover walk far, far, far away until he reaches the train doors. He turns back one more time with a hesitant smile on his lips. Satoru has a thick, heavy scarf covering half his face, but he nods in reply and takes out a hand to wave at him, the cold breeze hitting his skin immediately. He shoves it back into his pocket when Suguru turns again, boarding the train with his bags.
Satoru thinks if he cries, the tears will turn to ice and jam his eyes shut. He doesn’t cry. He shivers again but stands there until the other passenger’s finish boarding. He stays there until the final call is announced over the speakers. He stays until the train leaves, slow at first and then picking up speed. He stays until it goes so far that he can’t see it anymore.
Then, he turns on one heel and leaves swiftly.
Fact Thirteen. Insects inhabited Earth before the dinosaurs.
Satoru remembers this as the last fact Suguru told him directly. They were in bed, and the thick covers were absolutely useless to have with how hot it was, yet Satoru was content with just laying down with the other man.
“Almost 480 million years ago,” Suguru said that day, tiredly, “Isn’t that crazy?” Satoru remembers this because his lover was more exhausted than he’d ever seen before, and he, at the time, wondered about asking Suguru to come back. He wanted him to talk about it, to tell him what was actually wrong and what he was really feeling. But he didn’t ask anything. He didn’t say anything at that moment and just let Suguru speak. “Satoru, what do you think?” He had asked after a brief period of silence. His eyes had been closed, but he opened them just to ask:
“Do you think love has existed that long, too?”
He remembers this on the coldest day of his life, wishing he was under those thick and sweaty covers again instead of the flimsy ones he has now. What happened to that blanket, he wonders? Winter is really the worst. He is reading Suguru’s old notebook, which he gave him before leaving. It’s from high school, clearly, and is organized by classification of insect in alphabetical order. He’s rereading it for the umpteenth time, his fingers running over the worn-out pages and admiring the silly doodles along the margins. He thinks he’s cried but isn’t sure.
Suguru did visit in the spring; he remembers it. It’s been a year. He held him so tight his knuckles went white, and Suguru had to wheeze for him to let go. He didn’t want to let go. He stayed at the train station for an unreasonably long time when he left, too, silently hoping that the other would drop his bags and run back to him, change his mind and apologize for leaving. He’d come back and live with Satoru. But it’s silly to think that, Satoru remembers. Foolish.
Spring has passed, summer has passed, and Suguru didn’t visit this time. It’s winter. It’s freezing. He wishes he was a wasp. He tries calling him, but it is miserably sent to voicemail. He wants to ask if he was planning on coming later this year. Maybe a winter visit? Satoru wouldn’t mind if they could stay inside all day. But Suguru doesn’t answer texts or calls for days. He doesn’t even read the messages that are sent to him. Instead, Satoru gets a dreadful call from Kento.
“He’s gone.”
Fact Fourteen. Ladybug larvae are much more likely to survive and develop quicker if it eats its unhatched siblings. Cannibalism, basically.
Satoru remembers this when he’s getting off the train. He thinks of Suguru as a ladybug and how he’s eaten Satoru alive and left him to die like this. He feels sick and dizzy but continues to walk to the location that Kento told him the incident was.
He’s talked to so many people these past two months. Things are supposed to be resolved now, but he can’t stop thinking. It’s still winter. It took forever to get here because of the train delays and heavy snow showers, but he’s made it, and he regrets it because it’s making him sick. He stares at the empty house. Suguru told him once that it belonged to his parents, which explains the good condition. He stares at the abandoned yellow tape still attached to the gates, hanging off limply like leftover streamers from a sad birthday party. When he enters the building, the door swings on its hinges loosely like someone had tried to pry it off. It’s a heavy door. He wonders.
“Suguru.” He says into the space. Obviously, he didn’t expect a response, but he says it anyway like the walls will tell him what happened.
Scanning the entrance and living room is a nightmare. He’s already seen from the pictures, but somehow in-person is different. Two months ago, Suguru was here. Now, every carpet in the house is ripped and has endless splatters of red on it, darker now that it’s dried. The walls, the furniture, the curtains… they’re all damaged in some way, or destroyed. He makes his way to the staircase, his eyes scanning the deep red staining the handrail and the blood shoe prints going up and down the stairs. He’s seen the pictures. He knows this is what he came to see, but his heart is beating in his ears. Now and then, he gets a wash of dizziness and feels as though he might pass out. Yet, he moves on.
Kento had said something about a sorcerer or something, he half-remembers. He wasn’t really listening. Though, Nanami also seemed confused when he was speaking of it. There was a note, he had said. He promised to give it to Satoru when he felt he was ready. Satoru never brought it up again, fearful of what he might read. After this, though, he thinks it might be time.
Especially after seeing the top floor. The rooms, the hallways, even the bathrooms. He enters the master bedroom. He notices, surprised, that the window is open. He recognizes the faint buzz and movement of flies making their way to the red blotches covering the windowpane and seeping down the wall underneath it. What makes Satoru’s stomach lurch is seeing discarded outfits in the master bedroom along with a torn-up wallet and more ripped-up fabric leading to the closet, all splattered in red. Dried up, it looks almost black. The clothes, he knows, are not of Satoru’s taste. Nor are they his size. He knows. He doesn’t need to read the police report to know that part. He closes the door.
He doesn’t look into Suguru’s bedroom. He doesn’t dare.
Fact Fifteen. A tarantula will inject its prey with venom, paralyzing it, and then the enzymes within it will break down the body and turn it into a liquid.
“They liquefy their prey?” Nobara crinkles up her nose like she’s never heard of anything grosser, “Disgusting.”
“They do this so they can drink up the prey; their mouths are like straws,” Satoru explains, grossing Nobara out further as she covers her mouth and whines at the description. Megumi almost frowns at that, his eyebrow twitching.
“I think it’s cool,” On the contrary, Yuuji’s eyes light up, and he listens intently. Satoru wants to say that it reminds him of someone, but he doesn’t. He smiles instead, tapping his chin like he’s thinking.
“Of course, my most loyal student. Wait ‘till I tell you guys about wasps.”
Fact Sixteen. Cockroaches can live for weeks without their heads.
He thinks about telling his students this one but decides to tell just Yuuji at a later time. The others don’t seem to have an interest in the more gruesome parts of being an insect.
“I’ve been watching this ant colony for years now,” Satoru says instead, making a move towards the large window at the side of the classroom. Being a professional tutor for calculus and general mathematics at a high-end school is the choice he ended up making. However, he still finds a way to slither in things he actually enjoys discussing. Kento, he recalls fondly, decides to become a full-time professor at the same institute. What an expected turn of events after the man had initially decided to be a salaryman.
“This isn’t even what we’re supposed to be learning,” Megumi replies blankly, but the professor continues. This always happens, the three of them know. He stays on topic for half the session and then wanders off. Looking through the window, the students can faintly see the ant colony he’s talking about, way down below. They’d be lying if they said they didn’t find it at least a little interesting.
“Gojo-sensei,” Yuuji starts, “Have you always been into bugs? It’s kinda weird.”
Satoru grins like a menace, “Nope, I got into it from someone else.”
“Probably Shoko-san,” Nobara speaks up, “She’s always been kinda weird. Talks about gruesome stuff all the time, too.”
“Wrong, but nice guess.” Satoru hums, “I did always expect her to be a taxidermist.” He half-jokes, remembering the carcass of a squirrel Shoko had been inspecting once. It seems like weirdos for life’ll surround him… but the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, he reminds himself.
“Nanamin!” Yuuji guesses, jumping in his seat.
“No, he hates bugs.” Satoru laughs, “You’re not going to guess them, my dear students, because they aren’t here anymore.”
“How sad,” Nobara huffs, “I would’ve guessed right.”
Megumi stays quiet the whole time, watching intently at Satoru’s playful grin and the act he somehow keeps up.
Fact Seventeen. The mating ritual of praying mantises includes the female eating her lover’s head.
“I didn’t need to know that,” Kento says blankly, not looking at the other man who is grinning wildly, his hair tossed in every direction (he blames it on bad sleep, but Shoko just says he’s lazy).
“It’s kinda funny,” Satoru pouts, “I thought it would make you laugh.”
“You’re a terrible comedian.”
“C’mon, Nanamin…”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Wha- you let Yuuji call you that!”
“I’ve allowed him,” The suited man crosses his arms gruffly. He looks like he’s on edge, Satoru notes, and as much as he’d love to tease him about it, he has a feeling it’s about a subject that will make him on edge as well.
“Well,” Satoru lets out a dramatic sigh, “Just spit it out already. It’s not fun like this.”
Kento is silent for a bit, then reluctantly takes out a note in his pocket.
“I read it already.” Satoru says, almost too quickly, “Nanami, it’s been almost a year. You know I read it.”
“It’s not that letter,” He says, and the other goes stiff. He tries to act loose and carefree, but every nerve in his body now is still. Waiting.
“What?”
“There was another one inside it,” Kento is holding out a folded sheet of paper. It’s not in great condition at all, and Satoru swears he could see it slightly burnt from one side. He doesn’t take it, “Inside the other letter. That one was addressed to all of us,” he continues, still holding it out. Satoru is thinking of a million things, and none of them are good, “This one was just addressed to you. So, I didn’t read it.”
“You didn’t give it to me earlier.”
“You would have had a mental breakdown,” Kento says it like it’s obvious, “Really, Satoru, I’m not a fool. You were doing bad enough with just that letter before.”
“I would have been fine,” Satoru tries not to sound angry. He doesn’t blame Kento or is upset with him, but now there’s a growing knot in his stomach, and he needs to blame it on someone that isn’t Suguru. He takes the letter casually and tries to laugh, “I wonder what it says, though. Thank you, Nanamin.”
Kento looks solemn, though, and doesn’t reply to his thanks. He just nods quietly and grabs the briefcase he’d placed on the bench behind them, fixing his glasses.
“Goodbye, Satoru. I’ll see you tomorrow?” He says it like a question like he almost isn’t sure that Satoru will actually see him tomorrow after reading the letter. Satoru, overcome with a need to reassure his friend that he’s not going insane, just smiles.
“See you!”
Fact Eighteen. The venom from the Asian giant hornet is neurotoxic and necrotic, meaning it attacks the nervous system and destroys tissue.
“Have you ever been bitten by one?” Yuuji had asked once.
“No,” Satoru laughed in response. But it feels like I have.
The letter taunts him for a week before he decides to actually read it, having it perched on his bedroom windowsill like a framed portrait of a loved one. He rarely looked at it throughout the week, yet it somehow lured him in enough just from being there. Could he have thrown it out? Yes. But he refuses to even think about it. Instead, the letter is opened on one of his days off. It’s too cold to go outside despite his love for snow fights with Shoko and Utahime (“Even at his big age, he still acts a fool,” Kento stated once. He still participated, though, so Satoru thinks they’re both on equal levels of foolishness.)
It’s quiet in his bedroom with only the sound of his breathing and the crinkles of the paper when he opens the letter. Someone folded it neatly despite the flimsy paper being in a terrible state.
He reads. He reads and reads and reads and turns the page over and keeps reading. He doesn’t know what Suguru is saying to him. The letter's first three words are still ringing in his head like a warning bell; he almost feels the ringing in his quaint bedroom. He turns it over and rereads it and again. He wants to rip up the paper. How dare he start the letter like this? His heart feels like it might sink to the bottom of his stomach like an anchor. He rereads it. After what seems like an eternity of rereading it, Satoru finally crumples up the paper in his hands and topples over.
He’s laying on his bed with the letter of Suguru’s love crumpled his palms, holding it tight to his chest as if the other man might still, somehow, hear his heartbeat.
Fact Nineteen. Butterflies can smell each other from miles away.
“Did you read the letter?” Kento asks. It’s been another month. The snow is starting to clear.
“Yes,” Satoru says. He isn’t looking at him. “So many times, I lost count.”
Fact Twenty. Ant-eating assassin bugs pile their victims onto their bodies to scare predators and camouflage.
“That’s sad,” Yuuji says, “It’s all gone? Just like that?”
“It happens,” Satoru replies, adjusting his glasses to block the searing sunlight.
“But you said you were studying the ant colony since high school,” Yuuji huffs, “Aren’t you a bit sad?”
“It’s not that serious,” Nobara knocks the boy’s forehead lightly with her knuckles, “They’re just ants.”
“I’m just concerned for our professor!” He coos, which makes the girl laugh hard. Megumi even cracks a smile, and Yuuji beams with pride, probably brighter than the sun itself. “So, the assassin bugs just prey on ants?”
“Just this species,” Satoru says, “There are other species of assassin bugs that prey on other insects. This one primarily preys on ants, hence the name, but it can also go after other bugs like flies and small beetles.”
“Gross,” Nobara says, just like last time, but she doesn’t leave or turn away.
“Well, they sound pretty gross, but I think the worst insect in the world has already been decided,” Yuuji raises his hand, making his announcement dramatic, “Mosquitos.”
Nobara smacks him, “Mosquitos won’t kill you.”
“They’re so annoying!” Yuuji whines. Megumi just shakes his head.
“There are bugs that can literally poison you to death, but you think mosquitos are the worst?”
“The worst,” Yuuji repeats.
Satoru, for once, does not interject. He watches the three of them bicker for a while about mosquitos and deadly beetles until his most loyal student looks up at him with curious eyes.
“What do you think is the worst insect, Gojo-sensei?”
Satoru doesn’t need to think about it. He takes a glance at the sky, the grass, the lonesome tiny hill that was once a colony, and thinks about the hot summer day and mosquitos being a menace. Though, as much of a menace mosquitos are, and as deadly the Asian hornet, as gross as the praying mantis and as dangerous as the assassin bugs are, he still has made his answer.
“Wasps.”
Yuuji crinkles up his nose then like he didn't expect that as an answer. Nobara perks up in interest, "They are pretty gross."
"And scary," Yuuji agrees.
"Regular wasps don't kill you," Megumi says. The other two stick out their tongues at him childishly.
Satoru just smiles, keeping his hands in his pockets and basking in the burning sunlight pouring down on all of them. Looking down, he sees a small line of ants marching by his foot. He doesn't step on them. No, he just watches them pass by, collecting crumbs and carrying it back to wherever they came from. They follow the scent, Satoru remembers. He remembers and remembers and reminisces the endless facts and descriptions in his brain and where they came from.
Finally, when it's time, the four of them go back inside. Satoru doesn't look back at the dead ant colony. He doesn't need to. No matter how many times he looks back, it won't revive itself or start again so quickly. He's learned that once it's dead it takes years, decades even, to build itself up again.
"By the way, Gojou-sensei," Megumi speaks up for once, and the other two lean in their heads curiously as well, "You never told us who taught you all this bug stuff." Now the other two students are nodding gleefully, waiting for their professors' response. He just grins.
"The person who taught me..." he starts, putting together in his head how he should explain it. He thinks about the whispers, the conversations, the touches, the secrets, and all the other things he deemed too corny to talk about out loud and he closes his eyes. The students start to wonder what's taking so long for him to answer until he opens them again and looks at the three, a shimmery glint in his eyes now:
"He's my best friend. My one and only."