Chapter Text
“Are you excited for school?” Suga asks, staring softly at the child in front of him. The child just shrugs, clasping their fingers together.
“I guess so,” they reply. Their light-up shoes sparkle in the light of Suga’s office. A shy smile spreads across their lips, and Suga can’t help but smile, too. “I’m excited to see my friends again.”
“I bet you are!” Suga exclaims, and the child laughs. Suga feels his heart glow with warmth—this is what happiness feels like. “Not excited about the homework, though.”
The child wrinkles their nose, “I hate homework!”
“But, you can’t play without working, right?” Suga asks, and the child thinks for a moment before nodding.
“I guess so,” the child replies. “My sister told me that fifth grade sucks.”
“Well,” Suga begins, shifting closer. “When I was in fifth grade, I liked my teachers and my friends. Maybe you’ll enjoy it more than you think.”
“But—what about all the homework?” The child asks, playing with the blocks in front of them. Suga doesn’t know what they’re creating, but if it keeps the child talking, he’s all for it.
“I’ll tell you what,” Suga says, “if the homework gets too hard, I’ll help you with it.” He adds, “sounds like a deal?”
The child’s eyes light up, and a wide, toothy grin spreads across their lips. “Deal!” They exclaim, standing up to give Suga a hug. “You’re the best, Mr. Suga!”
Suga just chuckles, handing the child a strawberry cream-flavored lollipop—their favorite. “I bet you say that to every person you meet.”
“No,” the child replies, shaking their head. “Just you.”
“Wait until I tell Miffy you said that,” Suga says, and the child gasps in mock offense. Suga loves playing the imaginary friends card, because it’s a hit every time.
“You better not!” The child replies, laughing so hard that Suga is afraid they’ll run out of breath.
“Where was the confidence earlier?” Suga asks teasingly, the child just shrugs, shy. Suga looks at the clock, and the child does, too. They begin picking up their toys, and Suga gets down on the floor, quickly placing blocks into a large box. “What sticker do you want today?”
“Do you have any crows?” They ask, “they’re my new favorite animal.”
“Of course!” Suga replies, sifting through his cabinet for the perfect sticker. He fishes a few crow stickers out of his designated sticker box, handing it to the child. The child thanks him quietly, tucking the sticker into their pocket.
“Did you know that a group of crows is called a murder?” The child, Kai, asks. Suga remembers that fact from his friend who knows too many random facts, but he shakes his head.
“No, I didn’t know that!” Suga says, “thank you for telling me.” Kai just beams, and Suga is glad he didn’t say anything different.
“I’ll see you on Friday, Kai.” Suga says, slowly guiding the child to the door. They smile, waving to Suga as they begin their trip down the hallway. Suga is proud of them. When they first began their sessions, they were afraid to walk to the bathroom by themself, but, with Suga’s guidance, they can now walk to the lobby without Suga’s help. “Tell your mom I said hi!”
When Kai and their mom leave for the night, Suga makes his way back to his office. Even though he’s done with today’s sessions, a therapist’s work is never fully done. Suga has paperwork to catch up on, and files to edit. Suga sighs, taking a seat at his desk before opening his computer.
He opens Kai’s file, adding details from their latest session. Unlike many others in his field, Suga prides himself on his attention to detail. Although Suga loves the field of psychology, it’s quiet times like this when he misses his class.
Suga enjoys working as a therapist, even if it’s just a summer job. However, there’s a reason that Suga is a teacher. He loves being useful, even if it’s just through helping one student at a time. Kindergarteners are the next generation, after all.
Even though Suga isn’t looking for a new job, he likes to keep his options open, because he never knows what might happen. He looks through emails, but doesn’t find anything to write home about. Suga then decides to check his LinkedIn, just for kicks. He doesn’t see anything new, but his page has gotten quite a few visits.
Suga feels disappointed in a weird sort of way. Suga doesn’t want a new job, because he’s happy with the one he has. But it’s like speaking into a void and waiting for someone to talk back. Suga isn’t expecting much, but it’s nice to be acknowledged.
Suga sighs, standing up from his desk. Suga cracks his back, and realizes that he needs to get back into the gym if he doesn’t want to end up with arthritis. Suga finds himself looking at the various photos scattered around his office, time capsules of days gone by. Suga stands in front of a picture taken three years ago.
Suga still remembers the day clearly. It was Halloween, and after watching an installment of Charlie Brown, his class became convinced that the Great Pumpkin was on their way to pay them a visit. Suga didn’t want to ruin the fantasy—he usually leaves that to the parents—so he didn’t say anything.
Of course, to keep up with the tale, Suga arranged for an award-winning pumpkin to be wheeled over to the school. After a local farmer agreed to the deal, Suga’s class nearly cried with joy after waking up from nap time to see a giant pumpkin in the yard. Suga is smiling widely in the photo, as the kids hug the legendary Great Pumpkin.
There’s another holiday photo from the same year close by. In this photo, Suga and his class are standing by a man dressed as Santa Claus. Similarly to the tale of the Great Pumpkin, Suga was far too nice to ruin the fantasy of Santa, and so, he asked a man to come in and take note of Christmas lists.
Suga remembers the raise he got after hoards of parents thanked him for collecting their kids’ holiday lists. Suga made sure to celebrate every holiday with his class, even buying kinaras for the children who celebrated Kwanzaa, and dreidels for the kids who celebrated Hanukkah, along with various other holidays.
Asahi was reluctant at first, which Suga expected. However, after convincing—not conning—him that most of the kids would be elated to see Santa in the flesh, he agreed.
There’s another photo on his desk, Suga remembers that day like it was yesterday. In the photo, Suga is sitting at a lunch table with his class. Suga remembers how he used to lead the lunch and bus lines. It was smooth sailing for the most part, until Taco Day, when all hell broke loose if someone cut the line.
Suga had to deal with the occasional food fight, but those were few and far between. Suga remembers the day a child got lost, and Suga went on a hunt to find them. The missing child was a girl who insisted that she could get a drink of water without a chaperone. She was cutting it close, as the end of the day was approaching.
After doing a headcount, and missing one child, Suga went on a quest to find the elusive little girl. He found her in the library, confused and on the verge of tears. Suga led her to the correct line, and she was on her way.
Suga misses those days, misses sending his class off for the day with a smile and a wave.
Suga is snapped out of his reverie by the chiming of his phone. It’s time to leave, Suga thinks. It appears that he lost track of time, something that doesn’t happen often. Suga has very few plans for the rest of the night, but he does need to get groceries and prepare for tomorrow.
For Suga, Wednesdays are the least busy days of the week. They’re quiet, with minimal meetings and limited sessions. Suga loves his days that are packed with sessions, of course, but he also enjoys the days when he is able to relax and work on the tasks that have slipped by him.
Suga packs up his things, slowly and carefully. Sometimes, when it’s an especially late night, Suga forgets his laptop, and it’s days like those he tries to avoid. It’s hard, of course, balancing his dream job and personal time, but it’s something Suga works on. Tonight is both a night of himself and a night to get work done—the oxymoron working vacation sums up his philosophy.
Suga is the last one in the building, an event that happens more often than he would like to admit. The secretary is hardworking, and usually stays long enough to bid Suga goodnight, but it appears that Suga’s moment of introspection lasted longer than he thought.
The night air blows through Suga’s hair as he steps outside, under the watch of the sky full of stars. Suga slips into his car, immediately turning on the heater. The seasons are slowly changing, enough that the nights are chilly and Suga craves the warmth of his portable heater.
Suga begins the drive to his local grocery store. He wonders if the store will be virtually empty, or if it will be filled with people working overtime, people like him.
Summer is ending, and it’s bittersweet. Suga will go back to working as a therapist on Saturdays, back to working as a kindergarten teacher during the week. On one hand, Suga appreciates the change of scenery. On the other hand, it’s always hard to adjust to his new routine, but he figures that it’s hard for every teacher.
It isn’t as if Suga has a choice, because he has to make money during the summer. However, he isn’t a fan of the emotional hangover the change brings.
The night may be chilly, but Suga wishes he could turn off the heater and open a window, just to feel the breeze on his face.
Within ten minutes, Suga arrives at the store. Suga rifles through his belongings, eventually fishing out a fabric shopping bag. It was given to him by his sister, who made a personalized bag for each member of the family. According to her wife, though, it took much more time than both of them expected.
The store is bustling with activity when Suga steps inside, which comes as a pleasant surprise. Suga pulls out his phone, and begins walking through each aisle, checking items off his shopping list.
Suga grabs a carton of oat milk, carefully placing it into his cart. Suga checks off another item on his list.
Suga likes to think that he’s an efficient shopper, especially since he has challenged his friends to beat his record of going through an entire shopping list in ten minutes, and no one has been able to break his record.
True to his word, Suga finishes shopping in nine and a half minutes—a new record.
Suga leaves the store, and feels the temperature drop. It was chilly before, but the September wind whips at his face and leaves Suga wishing he had brought a coat. As Suga slips back into his car and begins driving, he feels the silence in his bones. On nights like this, he wishes he had something else to occupy his mind, aside from the evening radio.
Suga has the host’s opening lines memorized. “Good evening, lost souls.” They say, sounding anything but tired. Suga smiles to himself. The host’s voice is so soothing that Suga finds himself wishing he was at home, curled up with a cup of tea and his computer on his lap.
The night is beginning to age, with the stars twinkling in the dark sky. Suga has never been so alone, yet so surrounded by life. It’s a comfortable sort of loneliness, one that keeps him occupied in the rare moments that he has nothing to do. It’s a strange feeling for Suga to have crossed off all of his items for the day, a feeling that he may never get used to.
Suga arrives at his apartment, and by this time of night, most of the complex is silent. Of course, Suga is sure that there are college kids who have nothing better to do than disturb him. Suga hears the faint thumping of bass as he lugs his groceries up the stairs. Sure, Suga would be better off taking the elevator, but with his busy schedule, his gym membership is collecting dust.
Suga unlocks the door, quickly setting his bags inside. Suga likes to play a game when he gets bored, where he times himself getting up and down the stairs. The shorter the amount of time is, the larger the chance that Suga will escape from a serial killer.
The house is quiet, and Suga wonders if his cat is sleeping. Suga’s question is answered immediately, as his cat, Luna greets him as he steps inside. Suga smiles, reaching down to pet her silky fur.
Suga gets to work organizing his groceries. Even now, when Suga’s day is coming to a close, he is still looking for a task to keep his mind occupied. It’s funny, funny that Suga wants to wind down, yet finds mundane tasks like this relaxing. Luna waits for him patiently, but Suga senses that she wants him to be finished.
After a few minutes, Suga finds a book to read, one that he intended to finish a month ago. He’s not proud of his procrastination, but he does enjoy the rush of energy that finishing simple tasks provides. Against his better judgement, Suga brings his computer along for the ride.
The second that Suga touched his computer, it was already over. Within minutes of picking up his book, a cozy mystery about a man who runs a bed and breakfast in a small, seaside town. The man notices that his patrons are meeting grisly fates, and falls in love with the police officer assigned to the case. It’s a great book, really, but Suga would rather surf the internet.
Suga begins going through his emails, and nothing seems out of the ordinary, just messages from celebrity gossip pages that he subscribed to years ago, but has gotten too attached to the drama to unsubscribe from them.
Suga scrolls down further, until his eyes land on an email that has him doing a double take. It’s an email from Cherry Creek High School, a local school only ten minutes from his apartment.
Hello, my name is Takeda Ittetsu, and I am the principal of Cherry Creek High School. I am reading out to you because of a recommendation I received in your favor. Our AP Psychology teacher has left the school for another venture, and the position is open. I believe you are beyond qualified, and your reviews are glowing. If you wish to discuss the offer further, I have attached my number.
For a moment, Suga wonders if the email is a joke. Suga isn’t even sure that the person will be awake at this time, but without thinking a third time, Suga calls the number. The person answers immediately, and Suga is pleasantly surprised. Suga doesn’t know what his own intentions are, but it never hurts to give an offer a chance.
“Mr. Sugawara?” The man asks.
“That’s me,” Suga says, briefly forgetting that he’s not speaking to a small child.
“Have you taken a look at my email?”
Suga pauses for a moment, looking back down at his computer. “I did,” he replies.
“You don’t have to accept the offer at all,” the man says, albeit nervously. “It was just a suggestion, not even that—”
“I’ll definitely think about it!” Suga says, smiling. The man’s voice eases a little, and Suga wonders how much coffee the man drinks in one day.
“Wonderful!” The man, Takeda, exclaims. “No pressure, but we do need the position filled by the end of the summer, I’m sure you understand.”
“Of course,” Suga replies. “I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”
Suga hangs up, and he briefly thinks about the offer once more. Suga has a job, and he isn’t in the market for a new one. However, teaching AP Psychology is a chance Suga may never get again. Suga makes up his mind—he is going to think about it, and he is definitely going to give Takeda an answer.
That is, if he remembers.