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    Summary

    It’s a wound Satoru hasn’t learnt to stop picking.

    At times he thinks it would be easier to stop making his wound bleed if the smell of Suguru’s cigarettes hadn’t permeated every corner of his bedroom. If the ghost of his presence didn’t linger in every corner and if the echo of his raspy morning voice didn’t float around his bed like mist rising from the pavement after a summer storm.

    Satoru can only hope to learn one day.

    Language:
    English
    Words:
    5,645
    Chapters:
    1/1
    Comments:
    12
    Kudos:
    156
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    31
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