Archive of Our Own

Day 1

Suguru turns the key to the two storey big house, feeling agitated. It is Saturday, and he is supposed to sleep in until noon, eat out of the leftover takeaways he had yesterday, mindlessly rewatch his favourite movies, and get shitfaced drunk for the night. But no , his jackass of a brother calls him at 8 o’clock in the morning to get to his house to drop in some documents belonging to their parents and to look out for his twin daughters. 

It’s not that he dislikes spending time with his nieces. Goodness knows how much he loves the twins. He cares for them like his own. More than their own deadbeat father. He also knows that Nanako and Mimiko think the same too. Suguru’s brother goes spiralling downwards since the death of the twins’ mother. Suguru is both sympathetic and empathetic, of course, but he feels that it is not an excuse for his brother to pay so little attention to his own daughters. If not for his financial restrictions, he would have taken the twins to his care.

Suguru hears an angelic voice resonating through the hall to the living room, accompanied by piano, serenading and breaking the silence of the big house. He has the twins’ voices registered in his head, so the voice definitely doesn’t belong to either of them. 

What he sees next is a sight to behold. A woman in a white sleeveless dress rises from the bench of the piano. Her hand gracefully presses the key whilst chatting with Mimiko who is listening attentively. She turns her head. Suguru can finally make out her face. His breath hitches. She is beautiful . Her dark long lashes hover over her warm honey brown eyes. Her bangs frame her soft heart shaped face delicately, and her hair is pulled up to a half ponytail with a white silk ribbon. The dress does her soft curves justice. She is neither too lithe nor big and stands probably around 15 to 20 cm shorter than him. What stands out the most about her is a huge scar plastered across her face; from her cheeks to the bridge of her nose. It should have been gnarly, but for some reason it highlights her beauty even more, posing as a permanent blush.

‘I want you to practice these pieces. We’ll recite them in our next class.’

Her voice drips with elegance and poise. A telephone rings and the woman picks it up. She signals something to the twins before disappearing from his vision. He hears the twins mumbles something incoherent and they scatter away from his gaze. Suguru stands there, frozen in his tracks.

‘Uncle Suguru?’ Mimiko calls. She has a big smile on her face and squeezes him in for a hug, in which he returns gladly. ‘We didn’t hear you coming. Dad said to put the document in his study room.’

He greets Nanako and gives her a hug before heading towards the study room and sets down the documents on the table. He gives a final glance at the gloomy room, sighing, before closing the door.

He stops at his track when he hears the woman groan before tapping the screen of her phone. She gives a polite nod when their eyes meet; warm honey brown against his violet ones. She strides to his direction.

‘Hi, you must be Nanako and Mimiko’s guardian. I’m Ms Iori, their music teacher. Can you show me the way to the bathroom, Mr Getou?’

‘Of course.’

He leads her to the end of the corridor, wondering how the hell did she know her name. He smacks his forehead. She addresses him by his last name, which he shares with the twins.  He heads towards the living room to find the twins with bags.

‘Where are you going?’

‘Dad didn’t tell you? We’re going to have a sleepover at our friend’s house.’

‘No, he certainly didn’t tell me that.’

‘Of course,’ Nanako says warily. ‘I wonder how long it’ll take for him to notice if we suddenly disappear from the house.’

He raises his eyebrows. ‘I’ll rip the world apart looking for you if you pull that on me.’

Nanako and Mimiko each take his arm. Mimiko rests her head on his shoulder. ‘We’ll never do that to you. We’re so sorry. Dad should’ve told you we’re going out. We can go out a little late. Let’s have dinner together. I’ll call Ms Ijichi to pick us up later.’ She mentions their weekly get together dinner routine.

‘It’s fine. You girls have fun. I’ll grab something on my way back.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Heck yeah. Just turn on the live location feature and let me know when you’ve arrived.’

‘We’ll make it up to you. We promise,’ says Mimiko.

He watches the twins pull away in their mom’s friend’s car. Suguru almost forgets Iori until he lays his eyes on her, changing into a completely different outfit. She has a navy blue cropped t-shirt with high waisted skinny jeans on.

‘Going somewhere Ms Iori?’ He smiles at her.

‘Yes, Mr Getou. I’m on my way to prove the sports column writer wrong.’

Suguru blinks slowly. ‘Sports column what?’

She fishes out her phone from her pocket, tapping her screen before showing him what seems to be an article. Signing, yours truly, his name. ‘An article about Hiroshima Sanfrecce. Sure, they haven’t been performing very well this season but this article only has this season’s performance as its basis. This guy apparently didn’t read nor take in nor do any research on Hiroshima’s overall performance. Frankly? It is a completely biassed opinion . Not even facts. Written by Suguru -‘ Her voice falters. 

There it is. His name, at the bottom of the article. Getou Suguru. His throat goes dry.

‘ - Getou.’ She glances rather guiltily. ‘Someone from your family?’

‘Oh, no. Getou is a pretty common name.’ The lie slips from his tongue breezily.

She heaves a sigh of relief. ‘Thank goodness. It would’ve been awkward if you turned out to be Getou Suguru.’

‘Ah. I don’t think he would mind. You’re not wrong about the articles, though.’

‘You’re Hiroshima’s fan?’

‘I..watch sports occasionally. Not as passionate, but I know a thing or two about it.’

‘Forgive me if I overstep my boundaries, Mr Getou, but my friend just ditched me because of work. Do you mind joining in for Saitama’s match now?’

Since when does his luck turn around? ‘If only you drop the formality.’

‘What should I call you then?’

‘Nanami.’ Another lie.

‘Okay, Getou Nanami. Care to watch a football match with me?’

Suguru enjoys the game much more than he thought he would. More than he ever did, if he is being honest, for all the years of his career as a sports’ column writer. Iori has been more than helpful. She cheers for her team and explains to him enthusiastically about the nature of the sports and her favourite team. He makes a mental note of the terms she uses to describe them.

When the game finally finishes, he offers to take her out for dinner since she already gave him a ticket for the match. She mentions she is in a mood for street food, so they walk side by side before she spots a stall that she wants to try out.

He orders and pays for the food while she finds a table. He sits opposite of her while waiting for their meal to arrive. ‘Ready to prove the column wrong?’ He teases.

‘You tell me, Getou Suguru ,’ she utters coolly. There is a lilt in her voice.

Suguru curses under his breath, grimacing slightly. Utahime is smirking, folding her arms across her chest and cocks an eyebrow. ‘Ah.’

‘Nanami? Really?’

‘An old friend’s name. Believe me, that’s the first name that comes into my mind.’ Suguru scratches the back of his head. For a writer, he sure is struggling, fighting for his life to find the right words in front of the smaller woman.

‘I didn’t catch why would you lie to me, though.’

‘A feeble attempt,’ he blurts. ‘To save my ass since you hated my article I wrote on your favourite team.’

‘I wouldn’t exactly hold you accountable just because you write something I didn’t like,’ she replies, clearly amused.

‘Also, I’m trying my best to impress a beautiful lady. And failed miserably, as you can see.’

She rolls her eyes, dropping her arms. ‘Mimiko and Nanako often speak fondly of you. Prefers you over their father.’ She smiles, shaking her head. ‘They are your biggest fan, you know. I just connect the lines during the game. They have scrapbooks of every article you wrote. Every feature on the news, the magazines, on any media. It’s heart-warming to see them like that.’

He chuckles lightly. ‘You must be one hell of a teacher. Mimiko and Nanako must like you so much. There’s no way in hell they would show that to just anyone.’

She clicks her tongue. ‘I can also see where they get their slips of bad words from.’

He flashes a guilty smile. ‘Ah, my bad. I wasn’t usually like this. Working with the guys from the sports column - their bad habits tend to rub on you.’ He sighs. ‘I wasn’t always in the field, you know. Sports.’

Her expression softens. ‘Oh? What do you usually write before?’

‘Romance,’ he mumbles sheepishly. ‘I used to write romance novels back then.’

‘Oh.’

‘Didn’t peg me for the type?’

‘On the contrary, you fit exactly the type. The whole trope actually.’

‘What trope?’

‘The hopeless romantic trope.’

He chortles at the comment. ‘Really? Now that’s a first.’

‘Why did you stop?’

He merely shrugs. ‘Writer’s block. No inspiration. After my last work, I feel kind of lost. The mid 20s crisis. Not sure if that is what I wanted to do at the time. I tried to find inspirations here and there, trying out new genres. Then, I got tired.’ He has no idea why he couldn’t stop talking to the complete stranger. ‘Nothing inspires me. I do write here and there; not novels though. Short stories. I got resentful, I hated - no , I don’t feel proud of my work, so I put it behind me. I began to write for newspapers, now I’m in sports.’ He ends the story, feeling a bitter taste in his mouth.

‘Losing inspiration. That happens to the best of us,’ she says softly. Suguru watches her. Her eyes unfocused, the tips of her fingers lightly brushes her reddish scar on her cheek. Suguru is tempted to ask her about it, but he bits his tongue. Not now , he tells himself. Utahime snaps out of whatever trance she was in, turning her attention to him. Her gentle, warm honey brown eyes searching for his violet. Suguru gulps. He never felt his soul as bare to anyone else in all of his life. ‘Any work of yours I might have come across?’

‘You read romance?’

She snorts. She takes out her phone, jiggling it to his face. Suguru blinks ‘I have categorised playlists of every genre of book I read. I read with music, regardless of what other people say about enjoyment being reduced - ’ she puts an air quote with her hand. ‘- and the experience of reading is taken away with music playing in the background.’

‘That makes the two of us. I think it’s the opposite, really. The experience of reading heightens with the right music, up to each preference, of course.’ Seriously, what is this woman doing to him? He is not the type to talk this much. ‘Music breathes life to the stories, characters. Emphasising each feeling, adding spices.’

She claps her hand. Under the dim lights, Suguru can see her pupils dilated. His heart almost stops. ‘Exactly! Oh my God, thank you! That is what I was trying to tell people. Almost everyone I meet tells me that music is distracting. How is that possible? Didn’t you live your life as if you’re in a music video? Is your brain that quiet? How boring. ’

He grins. ‘You read a lot, I take it?’

‘I try.’ She sniggers, gaze falling to the ground. Suguru can make out how long and heavy and dark her black eyelashes are. ‘I’m not a genre-ist though.’ She gestures with her hand. ‘It all depends on what I want to read that day. Hey, you still didn’t tell me about your work. Tell me. Your masterpiece, and the one you’re most proud of.’

‘How do you know they’re not mutually exclusive?’ he asks, amused.

‘Humour me.’

‘Okay. My masterpiece, well, disclaimer, I classify it as such because that’s my most famous work, most royalty, it was a hit, and it gets a movie adaptation; No Greater Love.’ He gulps down his mineral water. ‘My most proud work would be Witchlight. Although, I write it under a pen name. It’s not completely anonymous, I did tell the public that it was mine.’

She gasps. ‘Wait, Witchlight ? As in Witchlight by Yu Haibara?’

‘Oh, so you have read my work.’

‘You’re kidding? That’s my comfort book! I keep rereading it many times since I got the first copy. It is criminally underrated. The main character keeps reincarnating and in each lifetime, he ends up with the love of his life. Until a lifetime that he doesn’t get the girl because he pisses off the Goddess of Love, he scrambles to fix the glitch. It reminds me of the story of Eros and Psyche, how he goes through all the trials just to be with the love of his life.’ She clears her throat. ‘I will always love you, this lifetime or another, with the blessings of the Gods or therelackof,’ she quotes.

A warm fuzzy feeling worms its way into his chest. ‘Always nice to meet a fan,’ he says jokingly. ‘Ah, you get it. The parallel between Eros and Psyche and the characters. Nice to meet someone who gets the reference.’

‘I’m a Greek myths geek. Can see right through it. You create a sumptuous depiction of it though. You deserve to hog all the credits. I have a question. Why do you write it under a pen name? That work will get more spotlight if you use your own name. Who’s Yu Haibara?’

‘Um, well, it’s a tribute - ‘ His voice is cut off when his eyes catch the hawker giving a hand signal. ‘Right, they’re closing.’

‘Oh.’ Her face falls, lips slightly pouting. ‘Well, a story for another time then.’

So, there will be another time. Hope builds up in his chest. He grabs the empty food containers and tosses them to the dustbin. He walks by her side, keeping a respectful distance but not far enough for their shoulders not to bump with each other. He keeps telling himself that his mind is playing tricks on him. Though, his heart firmly believes the ‘accidental’ touch is not so accidental from her side.

She hums, breaking the comfortable silence, fingers tapping her chin. ‘I see it now. The words you use in your articles - how do I say this - ‘

‘Flowery?’ He helps, recalling the comments he reads online.

‘ - Sappy,’ she finishes. Her lips part, and she quickly covers her mouth with both of her hands, though Suguru can see the twinkle in her eyes.

‘Ouch.’ He feigns hurt, clutching his chest. ‘Harsh.’

She giggles. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean for it to sound mean. Take it as a compliment. You have an interesting way with your words. If you read it out loud, it feels like butter melts out of your tongue. You get what I mean?’

Suguru thinks his cheeks might crack from all the grins and laughs and smiles he has for the night. He couldn’t recall the last time he smiled or laughed so much in one’s company. Sure, he has his fair share of laugh with his idiotic best friend, but it feels completely different. ‘Now, you have an interesting way of wording things.’

She huffs. ‘I’m not a writer. I’m a music teacher,’ she points out.

‘An excellent one.’ He scans around them. ‘How far around is your apartment, anyway?’

‘Pretty far from here actually. We literally stray away from the path my apartment should be on.’

‘Ah, I’m so sorry. I..uh, forget to ask once we get out of the stadium. At least let me call you a grab now,’ he offers.

‘What a gentleman,’ she teases.

He taps his screen, finding the app and keys in the details of her address with her help. He puts his phone inside of his pocket. 

‘You’ll go back to Nanako and Mimiko’s?’

‘Oh, no. I have work tomorrow so I’ll be going back to my apartment. It’s only around 8 to 10 minutes walk from here.’

She frowns. ‘You sure you’ll be alright? There’s not a lot of people here. What if you get jumped?’

Is she worried about him? How cute. He almost laughs to himself. ‘I can fight.’

‘Sure you can,’ she says, unimpressed. She raises a fist and bumps his shoulder playfully. Before he can retort, a black sedan pulls over. A quick glance at the plat number assures Suguru that it is her ride. He holds his breath unconsciously, wanting to stop her. Wanting to tell her he doesn’t want the night to end. 

She swings the door open. Suguru watches her movement halts, before she glances over her shoulder with a small smile on her face. ‘I hope I inspire you enough today,’ she says softly, her voice low. ‘Getou Suguru.’

Suguru has no idea how long he stands there, dumbfounded, watching her grab car pulls away, disappearing into the dark night. His ears are ringing with the echo of her voice. His mind seizes the memory of the way her soft lips parted and her tongue rolled when he says her name. He wonders if his name will sound as delicious, rolling out of her tongue, panting with needs and desire,  when he finally takes her.

‘Fuck,’ he breathes, slowly regaining his composure.

Day 2

Suguru drops off by his brother’s house as fast as he can, the moment he finishes his shift.

‘Uncle Suguru,’ Mimiko calls out, looking up from her phone, frowning. ‘Is dad busy again?’ she asks wearily.

‘Dad’s here, you blind ass,’ Nanako replies, her finger lazily scrolling down her phone.

‘Hey, language,’ says Suguru before he can stop himself. ‘I just came to drop by. Can’t a good uncle see his own lovely nieces for once?’

‘He can,’ says Nanako calmly. ‘But he’s here for Iori-sensei, isn’t he?’

Maybe his girls grow up way faster and smarter than he gives them credit for.

‘Maybe he is, but he also misses his nieces,’ he reasons. Iori Utahime . That is her name. He likes how her name tastes in his tongue. ‘I need Utahime Iori’s number.’

Mimiko smiles sweetly. ‘What’s in it for us?’

He sighs. ‘You’ve only met Satoru a few times, now you pull a Satoru on me. I’ll take you to that new famous crepe place that you mentioned. You can order anything you want.’

The girls squeal in delight, and Suguru can’t help but smile at himself. ‘Crepe first,’ they say in unison.

He learns her full name is Utahime Iori and that she is 31 years old, a couple of years older than him. She has been a music teacher for three years since her incident that resulted in the scar across her face. The twins refuse to tell him how she gets it, though. He learns that her favourite colour is red and emerald green since they go nicely with her pale complexion. Which is, in his opinion, completely false. A beauty like her will bring any colour, any design, any artist to tears. Suguru, of course, doesn’t realise he voices his thoughts out loud until he sees the horrified expressions of his nieces, smacking and chiding him for speaking of their music teacher that way. 

He also learns that she loves karaoke and watching sports matches. She also loves alcohol even though she has an alarming low tolerance towards it, and that she hates sweet things. He makes a mental note of that. Utahime previously had a record deal but she didn’t continue it when her contract ends, loathing the mass attention it brings her. Suguru makes the twins input her songs in his playlist, much to their dismay. She is naturally talented at both playing musical instruments and singing. She sounds perfect, he ponders. The stream of her melodious, euphonious voice echoes in his mind. The image of her tilting her head, looking over her shoulder resounding his mind.

‘However, we can’t simply give Ms Iori’s number like that.’

He sighs. ‘Is the bribe not enough? Lay down the terms.’

‘It’s not about the bribes. It’s just that it’s unethical to give away someone’s number without permission.’ Nanako holds up a hand before he could protest. ‘Yes, we might have blackmailed you to treat us today, but we draw the lines at ethics.’

‘We just like Ms. Iori so much, and love you enough not for her to think of you like some kind of a dumb lovestruck lunatic.’ She takes a bite of her strawberry milk crepe. ‘And no, we won’t ask about you in front of her. That is downright pathetic.’

‘I would never ask you to do that,’ he says, slightly offended. ‘I’m not pathetic. I’ll figure out a way to get her attention,’ he murmurs, mostly to himself.

‘The fact that you have to say that makes you sound pathetic. Why don’t you ask Gojo how to get her attention?’

Suguru gives both of the girls an incredulous stare. ‘Do you really want to know how Gojo gets someone’s attention?’

Day 3

Despite, Suguru does exactly that. Minus Satoru in the equation.

He tweets a snippet of thoughts on the last game he went with Utahime in his work account, choosing proper hashtags carefully, and posts the same on his work Instagram. As usual, he reposts the post on his personal account - he has always kept his account public, uncaring of whoever is watching his accounts or petty things such as likes and followers - fingers crossed, pushing his luck that she will magically find his post, leading to his account. Somewhere in the line of crazy hopes and expectations, Suguru hopes she uses her own name for her social media accounts, so he can be sure that it is her. He keeps checking his phone every hour, his eyes sharply searching for a glimpse of her name, completely distracted from his mountain of work.

Utahime Iori is destined for him. 

His eyes widen when he sees the notification on his screen. @iutahime liked your photo 10m. His fingers stumble, tapping the screen aggressively. He has never given his Instagram feed much of a thought. Posting a single photo every here now and then, not even bothered to type in any captions or tagging anyone properly. His feed consists of him with his friends and the twins. He only posts photos of himself only if someone takes it for him and he dislikes posting selfies.

His phone nearly slips when he opens the notification. She likes a photo of him at a beach. He remembers that day. It was almost a year ago. He needed to blow off some steam so he and Satoru hit the beach for the weekend. The photo was a candid shot. He was sitting on a folding chair with his swimming trunk. His shirt was left unbuttoned, revealing pecks of his abs under the sun. It was summer that time so he was fairly tanned. His eyes shot wearily at the camera - no, the photographer - while his hand pulled up his hair into a bun, some strands of his bangs fell to his forehead. The black hair tie is held by his teeth.

Satoru, the vainer of the duo, insisted that he took a good shot and he should put it as his profile photo. Suguru admits that he contemplated the idea for a bit, but the thought left  when they were interrupted by a couple of women. They ended up with Satoru spending the night with a raven haired beauty and him with a brunette. Gojo left before the crack of dawn, preferring to sleep in the car rather than dealing with the aftermath. Suguru posted the photo on his account when they got home, ignoring his notifications blowing up, absolutely refusing to admit his best friend was right.

He taps her profile, but of course she keeps it private. He tries to make out her profile photo. She is wearing an off shoulder black jumper, accenting her sharp collarbones. Her purplish dark hair falls sideways like a waterfall, spilling on her shoulder and back. Utahime has half of her face on display where her scar is showing. Damn, she has a breathtaking side profile. He frowns when he notices someone that they have a mutual friend; @meimeiofficial. Suguru makes a mental memo to contact his old acquaintance. 

He checked the time. It had been 20 minutes since her username came up on his screen for the first time.  She only liked one of his posts and it isn’t the most recent one. Was it a mistake? Does she accidentally hit the ‘like’ button when she is scrolling? The thought of her skimming through his posts, looking for his presence makes him feel smug. He almost taps the ‘Follow’ button when his nieces’ names pops up, showing messages in their small group chat.

Nanako 😈:  This is Iori sensei’s number. Do NOT screw this up.

Mimiko 😇: Cut him some slack, Nanako. Best of luck, Uncle Suguru!

Suguru smiles before saving the contact info and immediately presses the dial. His heart pounds against his chest, counting the dial tones. On the fifth dial, the receiving line picks up.

‘Ms Iori. Utahime.’

‘Getou…Nanami? ’ He lets out a breath, grinning. Her light chuckles chimes like bells. ‘Hello, Suguru.’ She sounds prim, business-like but he could hear the recognisable teasing lilt, as faint as it is. ‘Normally, people would follow social media first. Calling isn’t what I expect.’

‘Just a feeble attempt to get your attention,’ he admits. ‘Do you have private tutors after getting off work?’

‘I expect a romance writer to come up with something smoother.’

‘Ah, sorry to disappoint. I could, but I’m going for a direct approach since you give off a no-nonsense vibe. There’s a new music cafe downtown and I hear the food is amazing. Would you like to have dinner with me?’

Day 5

They agreed to go for tea again after a wonderful night, to Suguru’s standard. He is waiting for her in front of her office. He takes half a day off to settle some matters. She texts him to meet up for coffee and he immediately agrees. He scrolls his phone, looking through her social media.

Utahime posts consists of her playing piano and singing mostly. She uploads snippets of videos of her original work, and some covers. When he brought up her account during their dinner time, she sheepishly showed him her account, accepting his follow request right in front of him. He didn’t miss the 6 digits pending following requests.

One photo stands out to him. It is a photo of three ladies in what seems to be a girls’ night out, with Utahime in the middle. A woman with long silver hair - Mei Mei, Suguru knew her since she was his senior of three years back in Tokyo Technical School. Her usually braided hair is pushed back, framing her sharp face. She was squeezing Utahime’s cheeks lightly, resulting in her slightly pouty face. Adorable. Another woman with long brown hair had her hand covered half of her face, a cigarette protruding between her index and middle finger. Her dark brown eyes stared back at the camera emotionlessly, though her other hand clasped with Utahime’s endearingly. The three of them gave very different dynamics. Mei was wearing a strapless long sparkling black dress with slits stopping at mid-thigh. The brunette - Shoko is probably her name. He notices the tag on her belongs to a username @shoshoko - was wearing a sleeveless short deep purple dress. Utahime was wearing a spaghetti strapped with sweetheart neckline wine red dress that stops mid thigh. He appreciates how gorgeous the colour looks against her skin.

Smiling brightly, her soft voice snapping him back to reality. The evening wind blows, pushing strands of her hair on her face. Her eyelashes flutter at the motion. Chuckling, Suguru reaches for her face, the back of his hand lightly brushes her cheeks and tucks her at the back of her ear. Her hands cover his, and Suguru doesn’t pull away.

His thumb brushes a fallen eyelash under her right eye. Her lips parting slightly, Utahime fixes her gaze on his lips. Unthinkingly, Suguru leans in, closing the gap and heights between them, pressing his lips on her softly. Her lips are soft, taste sweet like honey. He smiles against her lips when she reciprocates, kissing him as tenderly. When they finally pull away for breath, Suguru presses his forehead at hers as they smile at each other, content.

Day 7

Suguru groans at the mountain of paperwork. He glances at the clock on the wall. 8.45 p.m. Almost 9 o’clock on a Friday. He lets out a heavy sigh, biting back the curses under his breath. The whole office is already empty and he only switches on the light in his office. His table is slightly secluded, hidden away from his boss’ peering eyes. He has his seniority in the field and talent to thank for his own office.

He is supposed to meet up with Utahime for a fun karaoke night. He is not much of a singer himself and rarely goes to karaoke unless it is a friends’ gathering. But she on the other hand is a karaoke queen. He texts her a picture of the mountain of work and says he will take a raincheck on her offer, much to his chagrin.

He nearly trips, bumping into a dark haired figure passing him. He mutters a word of apology. He blinks when his eyes make out the figure. ‘Utahime?’

She is carrying two plastic bags of takeouts. ‘Figured you haven’t had dinner yet.’

‘No, I haven’t. I just finished work. Is it okay if we have dinner at my place?’

‘Sure.’

He volunteers to carry all the food for her. He sets up the table for dinner and she looks around the living room. She holds up a vinyl in one of the boxes.

‘Are you a collector?’

‘Occasionally. I like the uncompressed sound.’

‘I can't figure out your taste in music.’

‘Am I about to be judged for my taste in music?’ he says, grinning slightly.

She clicks her tongue. ‘I’ve been told I’m a little loud and harsh when it comes to music criticism. Let me guess, heavy metal? Metalcore? Grindcore?’

‘Apart from the ear plugs and long hair, what makes you think that will be my choice?’

‘Given that you have a collection of classical music and metal records, I would say that I got it right.’

‘Dig deeper to your left side.’

She hums. ‘Let’s see. Classic rock, not bad. J-metal, expected. Nu metal, cliche. Oh. Alternative, indie rock, city pop, 80s Japanese pop. Okay, you are universal.’

‘Have I met your expectations yet?’

‘Quiet, but not there.’ She picks up a record with a disapproving look. She scrunches her nose. ‘Djent? You’re breaking my heart, Suguru.’

‘It serves its purpose on occasions.’

‘I’d rather stab my ears with a fork.’

He lets her pick a record before sitting down for dinner. He asks of her music preferences and learns that she typically will go for indie rock and city pop, but is open to listen to other types of music. 80s music is her favourite era. She also mentions that the reason she dislikes sweet things is because they cause her skin to break out. A skincare enthusiast, Utahime makes sure she performs a 12 step skincare routine every night without fail. Suguru shamelessly shares his 10 step hair care routine while Utahime nods, genuinely impressed.

She guides him to dance along, dorkily, to his 80s Japanese city pop record. He is not much of a dancer, mostly just following her lead. They fall on the couch, laughing, catching their breaths. Her skin flushes beautifully. He traces his thumb on her lower lip and gently pushes her off the couch, to the coffee table.

‘Took you long enough,’ she breathes. She grabs him by the collar,  lips crushing against him. He staggers by the impact, his eyes seeing stars, but manages to steady himself just in time by bracing himself on the coffee table. Utahime holds on to his shoulder for support. She motions come hither, gesturing him to come closer with her index finger. He wraps both of her thighs around his waist, earning a yelp. Without breaking eye contact, she tugs his hair firmly, letting his hair come loose. Smirking, Suguru deepens the kiss. Somehow, they make it to his room.

She leaves in the middle of the night, leaving a small note of thank you by his bedside. He gets up for a glass of water before going back to his bed. He turns on the laptop, squinting at the flickering screen against the dark room. For the first time in a couple of years, Suguru reopens his old drafts, and starts writing.

Day 14

He learns that she gets her scar in a post-concert event. She was making her way to a waiting car before an overly obsessed fan took a hold on her and slashed her face. She went on hiatus for a while, not because she was scared; she just thought it wasn’t worth it. She had zero privacy,  barely any room for creativity, and she was homesick. She paid Mei Mei enough to let her out of the contract. She had been teaching music at private schools and taken in students for private tutor ever since and obtained a doctorate in the field. 

Suguru comes home that day to a tall man with tousled white hair lying on the couch. He has a ridiculous black cloth covering his eyes.

‘What now? University or the elders?’

‘The elders. I have promising students this semester, befitting the Great Teacher Gojo. You didn’t return most of my texts.’

‘Good for you. I have been busy.’

He takes off his blind fold, revealing a pair of azure blue eyes under heavy white lashes. ‘Girlfriend?’

‘She’s not my girlfriend.’ Not yet.

‘So there is a girl. Who?’

‘Since when are you so interested?’ He looks at him weirdly.

‘Since you refused to pick girls up with me at the bar. You didn’t tell me. Why are you hiding? Is she ugly?’

He shoots him a dirty look. ‘Far from it. Her name’s Utahime. She’s Mimiko’s and Nanako’s music teacher. She’s a couple of years older than us.’

‘Older women, Suguru? Hot ,’ says Satoru absent-mindedly. He swings his legs, sitting up. ‘Get changed, Suguru. We’re going drinking tonight.’

‘Firstly, you don’t drink. I do. Secondly, just give me 15 minutes. Utahime is dropping off something, then we’ll go out. Don’t even think of trying to drink anything. I’m not cleaning up your mess tonight.’

A couple of minutes later, he hears a knock on his front door. He calls out for her to come in. Satoru picks up a stash of gummy bears from his fridge - Suguru keeps stacks of them just in case the sugar manic freak drops by, since Satoru is more unbearable without his sugar stash - and leans against the counter. Suguru catches a glimpse of unfathomable expression on Satoru’s face, but it is gone a split second after it appears. He brushes it off, probably imagining things.

‘Hey you. You’ve got company.’

‘This is Satoru. Gojo Satoru.’ Gojo gives her a two fingers salute before stuffing his mouth with more gummy bears. Utahime looks both amused and offended. ‘Sorry for troubling you with this.’

‘Oh it’s not a bother at all. I’m going out celebrating with my ex-students, and your place is in my route. Besides, I’m dropping this off to you. You should listen to it.’

His eyebrow quirks. ‘Megadeth?’

‘You don’t give 80s thrash metal a chance. I know you thought most of them sound like Motorhead ripoff, but give this a try. Their second album isn’t like Metallica's typical sound, and definitely not radio-friendly either. Dave Mustaine infused black magic themes in his songs. I personally love The Conjuring and Black Friday.’

‘Ride the Lightning shits all over Peace Sells.’

Suguru watches Utahime’s expression darken. That’s a first, he thought. ‘Gojo, is it?’ Her voice is sweet, but threatening. ‘Ride the Lightning? How.. quaint .’

‘Forcing yourself to like Megadeth is one thing, but convincing yourself their record is better than Metallica?’ He tuts. ‘That’s..how do i put this.. pretentious ?’

‘Not everyone is leaning towards radio friendly themes. Some of us actually do have taste.’

‘Liking something just because it’s underrated? We have a term for that, hipster wannabe.’

‘You’re the kind of guy that will overuse the term overrated and underrated based on popularity, aren’t you, Gojo? Instead of the actual meaning of it; appreciation and values.’

‘Well, U-ta-hi-me,’ says Satoru, dragging every syllable of her name. He flashes a taunting, shiteating, toothy grin. ‘That’s your name, isn’t it? U-ta-hi-me.’

She scowls. Suguru purses his lips, feeling the atmosphere shifts. ‘It’s Iori to you.’

Satoru ignores that. ‘For someone who is named Song Princess, you have a really shitty , pointless, take on music. Are you sure you have a proper certificate in teaching music?’

‘You little sugar freak brat - ‘

‘Alright, that’s it.’ Suguru raises his arms, gently guiding a fuming Utahime. Satoru snickers, taking a handful of gummy bear triumphantly. Suguru sets the record on his coffee table and slams the door shut. 

‘See you around, Uta-hi-me.’ He practically sings her name.

‘I’m so sorry. He’s.. actually, I can’t make excuses anymore. He’s just stupid. Don’t mind anything that comes out of his mouth.’

She groans. ‘How the hell are you friends with an insufferable little freak like that?’

‘You have no idea how many times I’ve asked myself that question. Please forgive him.’

‘You don’t have to apologise on his behalf. It’s not your fault.’

‘Didn’t know you have a temper.’

‘ Had . Until today.’

‘Ah. Satoru has a knack in bringing out the worst in people. Don’t worry, I think it’s hot.’

She rolls her eyes. ‘I have to get going. See you next time, Suguru. Have a good night.’ He kisses her good night and watches her walk away until she disappears from his sight.

Day 38

Utahime accepts a job at a university. She tells him via text and he quickly texts back that they will be having a celebration at his place that night. She gleefully accepts.

He ends up cooking for her to make it special. He learns that apart from Japanese cuisine, she likes Italian. So he cooks just that. She arrives at his place in a simple small black dress. Her hair is pulled up to a ponytail that night by a silk white ribbon. She brings along an expensive looking wine.

He hugs and kisses her cheeks. ‘Congratulations, Utahime. Should I call you, Dr Iori now?’

She sticks her tongue out cheekily. She wraps her arm around his neck. ‘Depends. Where do you want to call me that?’ 

She helps him set up the table while he finishes cooking. They put a jazz record in the background. They meet almost every day, having dinner together and dates on weekends. It has been their routine for the past month to eat with record playing in the background, whether it is at her or his place. She owns a cat back at hers, and the white ball of fluff unfortunately is not a huge fan of him. He doesn’t hate him, either. It’s just that he will be a nuisance whenever Suguru is within his turf - Utahime’s apartment. So, they decide to settle at his place. The dinner ends with dessert, which he spends a great deal of time on.

‘Oh. I almost forgot. You can’t believe what happens at the university today.’

Her story is interrupted by a loud banging from the door. A tall 190cm figure barges in. Satoru has his signature dark sunglasses on and is wearing a pale blue shirt. Suguru deduces the idiot just came back from his workplace.

‘Suguru!’ Satoru shouts, unannounced. ‘You have no idea who comes to the university today - ohhhh, it’s you. Utahime.’

‘Gojo Satoru,’ she tuts. Utahime isn’t bothered to hide the sheer irritation forming on her face. ‘Spoiler alert. This - ’ she points towards Satoru. ‘ - is what happened at the university today.’

He snorts, pulling a chair by Suguru’s side. Suguru groans as he watches his friend help himself with the dessert, actually relieved that he makes more. ‘You mean my university.’

‘Please. I’m older than you. I’m in the field longer than you.’

‘Yet you’re not nearly as talented.. senpai .’

‘Why can’t we just get along?’

‘Ask Utahime. She has a temper. Can’t even get along with new colleagues.’

‘I only don’t get along with you! ’ she cries. ‘And stop calling me by my name as if we’re close!’

‘Uuu! Taaa! Hiii! Meeee!’ Satoru obnoxiously sings her name on top of his lungs. ‘Don’t you have any friends to celebrate with? Does it have to be my best friend?’

‘First, you don’t own his ass. Second, whether you like it or not, I’m dating his ass.’

Suguru loves this side of her.

‘Satoru, play nice. It’s not as if you’ll be in the same department. Utahime is in music, and you’re in physics. That’s barely related.’

‘Right,’ she mutters under her breath. ‘Tell that to Yaga-san. There is a new arrangement. We’re handling extra curricular classes together.’

‘Pleasure to work with you too, Hime .’ Up close, Suguru can see veins throbbing from her forehead. He can’t blame her. Satoru knows exactly which button to push, and Utahime has a lot of them. The sly smile on Satoru’s face proves that he enjoys it more when the subject of his entertainment reacts as explosively as Utahime. ‘Anyway, I’ll be out of your hair soon. I have a much less scary date - full offence, Hime.’ He tosses a box of cigarettes to him. ‘Just souvenir from my last trip.’

Utahime raises an eyebrow. ‘You smoke?’

‘Huh? Yeah, I do,’ he mumbles. ‘Just not around you. You dislike smoking, don’t you?’

She takes the pack and examines, nodding slightly. ‘Well, I’m not fond of it. I tried to get my best friend to stop too. She used to smoke this pack.’

‘Finally, something we can agree on,’ Satoru mumbles. He takes a sip of drink and spits. ‘ Blergh ! What the hell is this? Who made this?’

Utahime makes a face. ‘Disgusting.’ 

‘Marocchino. Utahime made it.’ Suguru says, bracing himself for whatever that will come out of Satoru’s mouth.

He opens the cupboard, searching for sugar. Utahime’s eyes widen as Satoru adds in another two cubes of sugar. ‘Right, of course. Hey Hime, didn’t they have sugar where you came from? The witchland of bitterness?’

‘I have put Nutella in it, you sweet tooth idiot. Traditionally, marocchino doesn’t need extra sugar. Suguru isn’t complaining, so why the hell should you?’

‘That’s your problem, traditions . He’s just being polite because he’s sleeping with you.’

‘I hope you died of diabetes,’ she replies sweetly.

‘Okay, that’s it. Don’t you have a date to go to?’

‘As the matter of fact, I do. Anyway, what kind of freak hates sweet things anyway?’ The man with white hair grumbles.

‘Says the dumb little shit who wears sunglasses at night like a grade A douchebag !’ she yells back. Satoru sticks out his tongue at her and slams the door shut.

Day 48

Utahime is not joking when she says she will never leave her 12 step skincare routine. Including the time when she is half drunk.

‘A woman’s age shows on her décolleté.’ She is slurring at this point but her hands amazingly steadies as she pats her skin for a final touch. He doesn’t drink as much as her, but even his arms feel sore watching her carefully and patiently doing her routine step by step. 

She reaches out to grab a hair serum before he gently stops her. ‘Let me take care of you,’ he says gently, brushing her hair to her back and starts the haircare routine he sticks religiously to.

Day 80

‘I start writing again,’ he announces.

‘Oh?’ She looks up from the stack of papers. ‘Good for you! How far in are you? Can I read it?’

‘I have a complete solid draft already. I scrap some old unused drafts and work from there. It’s just one whole boring process. Anyway, it’s just a matter of time to finish the work. I will let you read it once I feel satisfied with it.’

‘I’ll be honoured. You get a strike of inspiration?’

He snuggles against her neck. ‘Yes. You.’

He feels the corner of her lips twitch. She slaps her arms playfully. ‘Corny. That was fast. I’ve always wanted to watch how authors go from writing drafts to completing it, to publishing it.’ 

‘Um, I haven’t exactly told my publisher yet.’

Her brow furrows. ‘Why not? You should.’

He raises an eyebrow. ‘You haven’t even read it.’

‘I’ve read most of your previous work. Even your sports column is getting better, but I have to hog the credits for that one since your articles sound like my narration.’ He laughs at that. ‘And that I have faith in you. Go on, pick up the phone and give them a call.’

Day 100

Satoru crashes at his couch that night, too pissed to go back to his family estate as he should. Another problem with the clan. Since they will pester him at his place, he decides to crash in at Suguru’s. He mentions with a maniacal glint in his eyes, that he will blow the whole penthouse along with the bastards just for the hell of it. Suguru believes him.

He receives a series of rants from Utahime about her day at work. For a couple of people who don’t even teach the same field, their schedules sure clash a lot and end up in each other’s presence. He needs to remind Utahime to check her blood pressure.

‘What do you have against Utahime anyway?’

‘Absolutely nothing! It’s just that it’s extremely funny to see her lose her cool like that. She’s always so poised and proper around you. I didn’t know a little poke is all it takes to get her worked up like that. Relax, I’m not pushing it that far.’ Not yet , Suguru thought grimly. ‘It’s funny that she appears so calm around everyone, including the ones from the university. Her students adore her, you know. If only they see how miniscule things can get her all scary.’ He snickers at the statement. ‘I don’t hate her. She’s just my source of entertainment.’

Suguru grimaces. ‘Don’t say that about my - ‘ His voice dies in his throat. What are they? They aren’t exactly official, are they?

Satoru raises an eyebrow. ‘Your what? Your girl?’

‘She’s…not my girl,’ he says, defeated.

‘Have you lost your touch Suguru? You got more bitches than I did back in high school.’

He glares. ‘Don’t call her that.’

‘I never thought of her as such.’ Satoru’s voice is flat, concealing any emotion. ‘It’s just that I’ve never seen you so... smitten - ‘ The owner of the azure blue eyes pulls a face, as if the word physically nauseates him. ‘ - just for a girl. Hell, I’ve never heard you address each other exclusively. Just checking, Suguru. This is why I don’t do relationships.. Or whatever it is you’re doing now.’

Suguru can’t sleep that night.

Day 120

He updates her on how he has pitched his idea to his former publisher and they love it. He might consider quitting the sports column and go back to writing fully if it all goes well. They are having a picnic at the park when he voices out his concern. He doesn’t include his conversation with Satoru, of course. Just the part for clarity.

She bits her lower lips, eyes deep in thought when he finishes his concern. ‘We’re at a good place. I don’t think that we need labels. Do we?’

‘Utahime, I think I’m in love with you.’

‘You do?’

‘Yes, I do. I really like spending my time with you and I haven't thought of seeing someone else since we started dating. Do you feel the same?’

A blush creeps up her face, making her beautiful scar seem more prominent. ‘Yes. Yes, I do.’

Day 165

‘I love you, Iori Utahime,’ he mumbles against the crook of her neck in the darkness.

‘Go back to sleep, Suguru.’

Day 297

‘Suguru, don’t you think that we are too similar?’

She bits her lower lip. He learns that she does that whenever she feels nervous.  ‘Are you sure you don’t simply.. accommodate my needs? I don’t know. I feel like you’re holding back a lot of things for me. Adjusting your behaviour to my needs. I feel like we’re getting more similar day by day.’

‘Isn’t that a good thing?’

‘Yeah. Probably,’ she croaks. Utahime doesn’t mention it for the rest of the week.

Day 341

Suguru can feel Utahime is keeping her distance for the past couple of weeks. She hasn’t always been open to him previously. If anything, she conceals more of herself. Suguru begins to wonder if he actually knows Utahime as he claims he does.

They have never fought previously, much to his surprise. She seems to do that a lot with Satoru. Even when she is keeping her distance, they don’t argue. She has been composed and polite, and it drives him crazy. He now understands why Satoru loves poking fun at her just to get a reaction. The thought of pissing her off, seeing her nose scrunched up in anger adorably, lips pressed into a thin line before pouting, the scar flushes redder, excites him more than he cares to admit.

Though, instead, Suguru goes for the safer, more Utahime-friendly option. He fixes it by asking her out for a well thought dinner, just as she would love it. They celebrate him publishing his most recent novel and finally quitting his job at the sports column.

Day 365

It is their first anniversary since they met. Suguru has it all planned out. They book a hotel in the heart of Tokyo to celebrate the night.

Until he collapses from exhaustion.

He is woken up by loud bickering between his girlfriend and best friend.

‘Are you stupid? Why didn’t you call an ambulance sooner? Does anything go through that thick skull of yours or you just have that cold of a heart to leave your best friend half dead?’

Half dead?

‘He’s just tired! Suguru is not some fluff ball that you think he is. It’s fatigue. He mentions that he’s tired. You know what, Hime, this is all your fault that he’s exhausted.’

‘If he’s collapsing from nervous exhaustion, that would be because he’s dealing with your ass! What the hell am I doing, arguing with an idiot? I’m calling the ambulance.’

‘Utahime,’ he manages to groan. His vision blurs, but he can make out both figures turning to him sharply. He feels Utahime’s arm supporting his back firmly. He feels a splash of cold water down his throat.

‘Water? He needs sugar. Out of the way, Utahime.’ Satoru literally shoves his gummy bear down on his throat.

Suguru feels like he is a child of divorce.

His vision clears after a couple of minutes. He is staring back at a tear-stained Utahime in a beautiful maroon dress, the shade is close to the one that he recognises from her Instagram. Red is her colour. He glances at the time.

6.30 p.m.

‘How long was I out?’

‘A couple of hours or so. I let you take a nap before calling her.’

‘Which is extremely stupid.’ Her eyes are fiery.

‘Says the one who doesn’t know her own boyfriend passes out on the floor. I told you, everything will be fine.’

‘You texted that you need a nap, so I thought you fell asleep already.’

She dabs a clean cloth on her face. Is it twisted that he prefers her expression more than her polite, stoic ones? Especially when the tears are for him? 

Suguru rubs circles on her arm. ‘It’s not your fault. I push myself a little too much to catch the deadline and finished up my work so the new kid can catch up just fine.’

‘I am so so sorry, Suguru. I’m sorry if I’m being a bother, if this is all too much - ‘

He stops her with a kiss and Utahime melts instantly. Satoru rolls his eyes, getting up to his feet. Utahime insists on celebrating their anniversary on any other day but he assures her that he is well and gets up and dressed. Satoru entrusts his driver to get them around, saying that he owes him one. He leaves his house in the arms of an unknown woman with black hair. Suguru feels a little uneasy, but he brushes off unfamiliar dark thoughts. The night ends with Utahime looking out Tokyo’s sky with Suguru snuggling her from behind, watching the stars.

Day 399

At first, Suguru makes peace with Utahime’s whims. She seems like the type of person who is ‘action speaks louder than words’. So, he barely minds it when she doesn't say I love you back. Even though he says it to her every day without fail.

He wonders why.

Day 451

Suguru stares at the dark ceiling above his head, replaying the scenes in his mind.

He remembers the conversation with Satoru before they became exclusive. If he is completely honest, he can see that Utahime is more herself around Satoru. Hell, he would have said that she is more vulnerable around her, as twisted as it sounds. Barring her anger, her eyes lit with passion whenever they engaged in their usual banters.

The three of them were watching a baseball match at Suguru’s apartment. Utahime has always been passionate about her favourite team, Saitama Seibu Lions. Though, her team had been underperforming for the match so bad that Satoru can’t help but make fun of her about that. Fist shot up in the air, Utahime whooped with delight louder than she ever had. He knows Satoru doesn’t dislike Saitama Seibu Lions, but he made it his mission to point out every single - dumb, his word - mistake the team made simply because it is her favourite. Much to Satoru’s chagrin, her favourite team regrettably won that night. 

Utahime hits Satoru on the face with a pillow, in referring to their bets in the heat of the match. Instead of being annoyed, Suguru saw again an unfamiliar unreadable expression on his best friend’s face.

Day 469

They have their first fight.

It starts off as a small misunderstanding but it turns to something bigger. He can sense their pent up frustrations building up. Like a broken dam, everything spills out in a rapid, catastrophic, uncontrollable manner. Suguru is always the cool, level-headed one among his friends and past relationships. But he is blinded by blind jealousy and insecurities, and that is enough to drive a calm man such as himself spiralling. 

He realises it too late when her usual bright honey brown eyes, that usually filled with life and calmness, turns cold and stoic. ‘Closed off, huh, Suguru?’ She laughs drily. ‘If men have anything, it’s the audacity. Accusing me of being closed off - okay, you might have a point. But how can I be myself if all you’ve ever shown me is a modified, altered version of yourself, made specifically to please me?’ She walks past him, brushing his shoulder slightly. ‘I don’t recognise you anymore. And I doubt you’ve ever seen past me. Let’s talk when we can be civil to each other.’

What pains him the most is that Utahime was right. Suguru didn’t recognise himself anymore.

She didn’t answer his calls for a week.

Day 479

She meets up with him for coffee. They reconcile, though he can see how distant she is. She laughs for the first time in 10 days; yes Suguru counts. Although he knows that the smile is not for or from him.

He spends the night staring at his ceiling.

Day 488

They have been together for over a year, but he has never met her bestest friend. She speaks fondly of her, comparing her friendship to his and Satoru. She mentions that he is more alike to her, cool and collected, and unfortunately, has a knack for cigarettes. They are fiercely protective of each other. Suguru points out why he was never indulged in her friends’ gathering.

She dismisses his question.

Day 499

‘I can’t do this anymore, Suguru.’ Her voice is quiet. ‘It’s not fair for either of us.’

‘Because you didn’t love me?’ he snaps.

‘I don’t.’ Suguru stiffens. ‘We can’t be ourselves around each other. You said it yourself. I’m an empty shell. I don’t see the point anymore.’

‘You know I don’t mean that.’

‘But you’re right. It’s true. A hollow shell.’

He grunts, burying his face on his palms. ‘Did you stay out of pity?’

‘I stayed because you made me happy. And I hope that you are too.’

He is on his knees, grabbing and kissing her palm. ‘I am, I really am.’

‘But just being happy is not enough, Suguru. I need it to be real . Not us walking on eggshells around each other. Both of us deserve that. I hate it. It’s exhausting for me, as well it is for you.’

‘I don’t want real. I want you. I love you.’

‘Me, or the idea of me?’

He looks up, searching her face. Utahime is not crying. She looks defeated, at peace. He laughs humorlessly. ‘So is this it? You’re leaving me?’

‘I’m here. Just not the way you want.’

‘You don’t even give us a chance to fix this.’

She smiles softly, crouching so they finally look at each other at eye level. ‘We have reached this point many times before, haven’t we? We could never work, Suguru.’

Somehow, deep in his heart, he knows that she is right again. He just refuses to admit it.

12 a.m.

‘One last favour. Just one day. I need you for one day, Utahime.’

Day 500

They walk arm in arm when he goes to the party, celebrating his comeback as one of the best-selling authors. He pushes back the memory of their encounter last night. His grip on her waist tightens, his memory desperately clawing to remember every curve and edges of her, carving his mind.

They left the party after midnight.

Instead of taking taxis, he chooses to walk. He purposely takes a longer route while making excuses he wants to feel the night air. Utahime agrees without question. His chest feels heavier as they get closer to her apartment building. His steps halt.

Suguru would come crawling and begging for her to come back, to take him back,  until he sees the look on her eyes. Only then he knows that he has lost her. For good.

‘Thank you. For walking me home. For everything. Take care of yourself, Getou Suguru.’

‘Thank you, Utahime.’

He watches her figure disappearing into her apartment building, leaving his chest hollow.

Post 500 Days, Day 1

Suguru moves out of his apartment, barely giving any thought of his burned deposit. Satoru helps him move his belongings to a new apartment that he finds that morning. Not even bothered to unpack, they take the first flight out of the country. Suguru appreciates that Utahime’s name is not mentioned for the whole day.

Day 7, Post 500

Riko Amanai.

He stops himself from pressing the button. He dated the short girl back in high school for three whole years before breaking up amicably due to work. She inspired him to write back then. She is married to a good man, and now they are blessed with a 6 months old baby. He decides that he wants to be selfish for the first time in his life.

He hears a shushing sound before a familiar cheerful voice greets him. He takes a deep breath.

‘Riko, I fucked up.’

He tells her everything about Iori Utahime. How she inspires him to write again. How she bits her lower lips when she is nervous. How her scar doesn’t make her any less beautiful. How pleasant her voice sounds. How her face scrunched up into anger when bickering with Satoru. Every single thing he learns about her. 

500 days of learning Iori Utahime. 

500 days of loving her.

500 days of carving her into his core memory. 

500 days that he has to unlearn now that she slips from his grip.

Riko listens patiently, chipping in her thoughts when he allows her to. She congratulates him on his success, glad that he gets back to writing.

His voice cracks, everything that he has been holding since the day he lost her spreads like wildfire. ‘How am I supposed to unlearn everything, Riko?’

‘You don’t. You live through it,’ she responds gently. ‘Suguru. I really have to ask. Are you in love with her, or just infatuated with her? In love with the idea of her?’

‘I know what love is, Riko. I have loved you.’ He realises his voice sounds cold.

Riko sighs at the end of the line. ‘You also told me the definition of love might change over the course of our lives. I’m just asking you to rethink. You’ve never lost your cool before. I’m worried about you, Suguru,’ she says gently.

‘Now you sound like her.’

‘You don’t deserve this tough love, but as someone who cares deeply about you, Suguru, I have to say something. Only you know what lies deep in your heart.’

He stiffens. ‘Thank you for listening. Send my love to your husband and kid.’

You can call me anytime you want. Hiroshi says hi, by the way. He wishes you the best.

500 days. How many days has he spent ignoring the red flags that lead him to his downfall?

He sends her family flowers and food the next day. Riko calls him and he pours his heart out more openly this time.

Day 90, Post 500

Getou Suguru has imagined all the possible ways that he might bump into Utahime after their break up, but nothing prepared him for this. 

It is raining that evening. His hair is pulled up into a bun instead of his usual half updo, hidden under a black baseball cap and hoodie. He is craving for some dessert when his ears catch a familiar annoying voice.

‘Himeee, come on. You’ve got to try this. It’s not that sweet, I promise.’ He watches the white-haired manchild shoves a spoonful of cake to the woman with purplish black hair. The glimpse of white silk ribbon on her hair sends his heart sinking down to his stomach.

She looks exceptionally beautiful in a low cut pale blue blue blouse and flowy white skirt that stops on her knees. Satoru wears something seemingly similar to her; a pale blue shirt and black pants. He hates how their colour scheme contrasts yet matches each other.

‘Can you please at least call my name properly? Or have you forgotten what my name is?’

‘What? I like calling you Princess. You certainly pass as one.’

‘Urgh,’ she grunts. ‘As expected, too sweet.’

Satoru hums and grabs her face and places a kiss on her squeezed cheeks. He snickers as she flushes, smacking his thigh for embarrassing her. Although, he can see how she melts against Satoru when he kisses her hands, mumbling words of apologies, despite glaring sternly at him. She cups his cheek and pats him while Satoru grins like a little child.

Suguru pays for his meal and walks out of the store as quickly as he can.

Day ?

He feels shitty. He creates a new account to stalk Gojo and Utahime’s friends on Instagram. Gojo puts up their photos together with sickeningly sweet captions. He saves Utahime’s private number since he has it memorised by heart, slightly surprised to find that she hasn't deleted his number or block any of his accounts. He knows she only lets her closest friends have the number. He taps the story and feels his heart drops, sick in his stomach.

It is a video of Satoru from Utahime’s point of view. She is laughing in the background, flipping her camera. Gojo has his hair pushed back and a sheet mask on his face. He looks absolutely ridiculous.

‘This idiot finally lets me do a 12 step skincare routine on him.’ She giggles as she pats his face.

Gojo catches her hand, bringing it to his face and kisses her palm. His azure eyes burn intensely, bore into hers.  ‘Only because I love you, my U-ta-hi-me.’ He kisses the inside of her wrist with every syllable of her name.

Her face flusges at his statement. ‘S-Shut up, Satoru.’

Suguru is overly familiar with the way her tongue rolls against Satoru’s name. He deletes her contact and smashes his phone against the wall. What he is unaware of is that Utahime accidentally posts the story without her knowledge, only to realise her mistake 5 hours after the story is posted.

Day ??

Suguru buys a new phone, not even bothered to install the dreaded application. He prevents himself from synching his contacts, only saving a few names he remembers by heart, despite knowing he knows Satoru’s and Utahime’s numbers by heart too. He relents at the last moment, seeing there is no point of doing such since his memories contradict himself.

He deletes all traces of her from his cloud storage. He clears the hundreds of missed calls from Satoru as well and has his lock changed, tired of having to sneak away like a coward at his own home. Satoru stops coming to his apartment building not so long after.

Day ?????

Suguru goes to Satoru’s penthouse and punches him square in the face.

He spits the blood from his mouth. ‘Really, Suguru? Takes you this long?’

Suguru responds by punching him in the stomach, venting his frustration. However, he feels more frustrated when the traitor doesn’t fight back, willing himself to be his punching bag.

‘At least fight back, you piece of shit,’ he hisses.

‘Nope!’ Satoru says gleefully with a pop.

‘You’ve already stolen her, now you want to snatch my satisfaction?’

Satoru scowls, his eyes darken. ‘I didn’t take anything from you. I don’t stoop that low.’

‘Yeah? You still stoop, by the way.’

He raises his fist before they are interrupted by a ringing phone. Satoru holds up his hand. ‘Just one fucking second. Then you can beat my ass any way you want.’ He accepts the call.

‘U-ta-hi-me,’ he says, voice wavering. He clears his throat. ‘I might be a little late. Huh? No, nothing happens. I’m caught up with work, you know how the old bat is. What? He is old enough to be working from his grave.’ He sniggers, as if he hasn’t been punched square in the face a few moments ago. ‘Okay, okay, I’ll behave myself. Wait up for me. I’ll see you soon.’ He slides his phone on the coffee table.

Suguru falls down on his knees. ‘Fuck. You do love her.’

Satoru laughs drily. ‘We’ve known each other since we’re both brats. I’ve never been in love in all my life. What the fuck do I know about faking it?’

‘Why her?’

Satoru snorts. ‘You think I’ve never asked myself that question? I ask myself every night. Why her? Does it have to be her? Hell, I literally have to escape to another country just to get away from her. You’re one and only best friend, Suguru. I wouldn’t risk it for just some.’ He stops.

‘But she’s not just some.’

‘No. She’s not.’

He pinches his temple. ‘Who am I kidding? That’s not even a logical question. Of course you will love her. Be in love with her. How can someone not?’ I just didn’t think she would fall in love with you as well, he adds in his thought bitterly.

Silence. Satoru takes a pack of ice from his fridge, pressing it to his face. He tosses a beer at Suguru who immediately opens it, taking a huge gulp. Suguru is the one to break the stretching silence. ‘This is fucking pointless.’

The men sit opposite each other. Suguru empties the beer, gets up silently and makes his way to the door, defeated. His steps are halted by Satoru’s voice.

‘Suguru. Is this it?’

He pauses at the door, not even bothered to look at Satoru. ‘Give me time.’

Day ???

He is already waiting for her when she gets back from work. Her eyebrows raise quizzically, eyes searching for him.

‘You’re going to punch me now?’ she asks sharply.

‘Hello to you too, Utahime. How are you?’

‘What are you doing here, Suguru?’

‘I wouldn’t dream of hurting you, Utahime,’ he says softly. ‘Besides, you will cloak me cold long before I can lay a finger on you,’ he adds good humouredly.

Without looking at him, she turns her locks open. She makes a way, motioning him to come in. He looks at her with disbelief. ‘I break your boyfriend’s face.’

‘We both agree that he had it coming in due time. I can knock you out cold long before you think of hurting me, and I can stab you and make sure nobody will find you if you try anything inside.’

He purses his lips, silently agreeing with her before letting himself in. She pops open a couple of beers and makes him sit at the dining table. Her apartment doesn’t change much, but he catches some minor differences here and there. Enough to remind him that he no longer belongs there.

‘Are you going to ask why him?’

‘Nah. Satoru can’t answer and I don’t see the point in asking that. Instead, I’m going to ask, since when does this happen?’

‘That’s also completely pointless, but I’ll humour you. A couple of months after we broke up.’

‘After you left me, you mean.’ He winces. ‘When we were together, you and Satoru, have you - ‘

She glares at him icily. ‘Is that how little you think of me?’

He ignores that. ‘Humour me again. You hated his guts. How is it even possible? Both of you are so different. Why - how - ?’ How can you fall in love with him? No. Why do you love him, but not me? He screams internally.

‘I just do,’ she whispers. ‘I love Satoru. One day I wake up, and I just.. knew .’

What she was never sure with him.

He swallows her words bitterly, staring into space. Silence stretches between them. She lets out a breath. ‘Maybe that is what is needed. Difference. Dynamics.’

‘You don’t believe that.’

‘I don’t even know what I believe in when it comes to love.’

They stay that way for goodness knows how many hours before he finally makes his way out. ‘Thank you, Utahime. I need that.’

‘Take care of yourself, Suguru.’

‘I’m happy for you.’

‘No, you’re not.’

‘Someday I will.’

When he gets home, he pulls his laptop. His mind rakes, scrambling for inspiration. He needs to get out of his comfort zone.

Day 270, post 500

He braces himself and dials the number that he has memorised by heart. It takes 5 dial tones before the person at the end of the line picks up the call. He can hear the hitched breath.

‘Hi,’ he croaks, feeling his courage slipping away slowly. He takes a deep breath to recompose himself. ‘Hi, Utahime. This is - ‘

‘Suguru, yes, I know. ’ The woman at the end of the line pauses. ‘I’ve never deleted your number .’

‘I know.’

There is an awkward pause. ‘Is everything okay?’ He can imagine how she bits her lower lip. ‘ How are you, Suguru? ’ she asks, and Suguru knows with all his heart that she is being sincere.

‘Better. Can we meet up for coffee now?’

‘Send me your location. I will be there as soon as I can.’

He wears a comfortable navy blue sweatshirt and black straight cut jeans. He puts his hair in half bun, letting the rest of his hair fall. He is not bothered to cut his hair anymore, not until he feels uncomfortable with it. His head jolts upwards when he catches a flash of pale blue blouse at the corner of his eyes. She is wearing an off shoulder pale blue dress with a frilly hem. She is practically glowing. She flashes a smile as she sits down.

‘Hi.’

‘Hi.’

‘Let’s order something.’ He waves at the waiter. After browsing the menu and orders, he looks at Utahime. He breathes, mentally checking and making notes on how his chest is responding. ‘How are you these days, Utahime?’

She smiles. ‘I’ve been great. How are you? You’ve grown thinner.’

‘Didn’t you like skinnier guys?’ he blurts, unthinkingly. Her shoulder stiffens. He waves his hand apologetically. ‘Sorry, that was a really pathetic attempt at making jokes.’

They chat for a while, catching up and making up for all the lost time. Neither of them mention Satoru, not yet. He learns that she still teaches at the university, also continues doing private tutors, creating more aspiring talented young musicians. She still accepts offers to play in orchestra, but is more selective in doing so. She is using her amazing talent for the right recognition. His heart warms at the information. She congratulates him on the recent award he gets from his new novel, a completely different genre from what he used to write. Suguru can’t help but eye a necklace around her neck - a white gold necklace with an open heart pendant. The pendant has a centre stone on it; a round blue diamond stone. Without opening the locket, Suguru already knows what it contains.

‘Satoru’s still teaching?’

Utahime purses her lips. She sips her coffee, fingers fumbling when she sets it down. ‘Yes, Satoru is still teaching. He still works with the university, working on a new theory. I have no idea what he’s on about. Something about asymmetry? I’ll sneak into his study room at night and reread his scribbles, and then I’ll let you know.’

He laughs. ‘Don’t beat yourself too much. I’ve never understood half of the things he explains. Maybe he’s just shit at explaining.’ Utahime chuckles at that. ‘Are you happy, Utahime?’

Her eyes twinkle. ‘Very.’

‘I’m glad to hear that,’ he says, feeling the weight lift off his chest.

‘Are you happy, Suguru?’

‘Getting there. Don’t worry about me too much.’ 

‘Do you hate me, Suguru?’

He smiles warmly. ‘You know I can never hate you, Utahime.’ He taps his empty ring fingers while his gaze lingers at her occupied one. ‘Satoru finally pops the question, huh?’

‘Oh,’ she mumbles, touching the white gold band on her ring fingers. The diamond glimmers against her soft skin. ‘Yes, a month ago. It was unexpected, to be honest.’

‘I’m happy for you.’ He finally believes the words. She might have shown her composed self in front of him. But Suguru has always seen past that. All this time. He has never seen her happier, glowing with love that was absent for him. No matter how stoic she wears her expression, he can always see right through it. Her eyes always give it away. How they lit up at the mention of Satoru’s name. Suguru, at the exact moment, is finally glad and relieved that his one and only best friend, Gojo Satoru, is the cause of that.

Her warm honey brown eyes pool with tears. She clears her throat, murmuring apologies before wiping it with her handkerchief. ‘Thank you, Suguru. That means a lot.’

He takes his fork and fishes out the topping of the cake. He grimaces, feeling his sugar spikes. ‘So his sweet tooth also rubs in on you.’

She rolls her eyes. ‘I’m not as bad as he is. Come. Let me show you how you can balance the taste, so it won’t be sickeningly sweet.’

They talk for another half an hour before he walks her out to her car. He notices she opens her mouth hesitantly, before closing it. ‘Will I see you again?’

‘Of course, Utahime. Will I get an invitation?’

‘I wouldn’t want you to miss it.’

Day 280, post 500

‘I thought you couldn’t make it.’ She grins, standing on her tiptoe to give him a half hug.

‘You’re kidding. I will always have time for your home cooked meals, Utahime.’

‘Well, what are you waiting for? Go help yourself. There’s plenty of food.’

Suguru makes himself comfortable, picking up food and enjoying himself. Utahime must have been the one in charge of the playlist. He hums to the songs she selected. His eyes wander around the penthouse. It definitely is a combination of Utahime’s and Satoru’s touches. Expensive black and white colour combination, complementing each other. Yin and yang. Suguru finally understands.

He watches Utahime chats with her colleagues, her arms linked with Satoru, who has a dazed smile on his face. His head occasionally rests on hers. When they are finally alone, she sees the fire in her eyes as her face animatedly changes from crossed to amused to gentleness. Satoru has a lazy grin on his face. He immediately knows how he gets her worked up, teasing her, his expression is a mixture of mischief, and tenderness, and possessiveness, and love. His deranged best friend might have the weirdest love language known to man.

600 days ago, Getou Suguru might have wished for him to be in the place of Satoru. He imagines he will wrap his arms around Utahime’s delicate waist. Her laughter will chime like bells, as she leans in tiptoes, whispering sweet nothings in his ears. He imagines he will nuzzle her neck and brings her hand to his face, kissing her ring finger gently. His thumb will rub on the ring he proposed to her with, reminding him that she will be his forever.

Day 280 since Suguru stands in front of Utahime’s apartment building, he no longer feels the painful longing pang on his chest.

Satoru’s expression is unreadable when he makes his way towards them. Utahime touches Satoru’s elbow. He lowers his head, exchanging looks with their eyes wordlessly before she walks away. Probably giving them the privacy they much needed.

‘Suguru,’ Gojo begins.

‘Satoru,’ he cuts in. ‘I don’t need to hear apologies from you.’ He holds up his hand when Satoru is about to say something. Weirdly, it works. For the first time, Suguru thinks, amazed. ‘Nor that I want to apologise. We both know that this isn’t a mistake. Nor a fight. There wasn’t anything to fight about.’

Satoru finally speaks up. ‘Yaga-sensei was right about one thing though.’ He refers to their old high school teacher.

‘That you’re a little shit?’ he chirps in good-humouredly.

‘That we’re pretty much the same.’ The corner of his mouth twitches. Suguru understands immediately.

‘That our tastes in women are the same?’

‘I would say.. similar . I wouldn’t date half of the girls you have dated.’

‘None of them would even take a second glance at high school Satoru, jerk.’ They snicker. The heavy air finally lifted.

‘I’ve read your new work. Congratulations on the award, by the way.’

‘Hold up. You read ?’

Satoru makes a face. ‘I read over 50 articles per day, jackass.’

‘Physics articles. Utahime makes you read, doesn't she?’

‘She says she will make me sleep on the couch for a week if I don't finish your damn book within 3 days. She says even that is mercy,’ he murmurs.

‘Whipped.’ He smirks. ‘Gonna eat your words, Satoru? You said I’ll never get out of my comfort zone. I won awards for writing a thriller.’

He has the familiar stupid shiteating grin on his face, taunting. ‘I don’t know, Suguru. It’s still romance-focused, if not centric. I’d say that it’s a romance novel, with a thriller setting.’

‘Listen here you little shit - ‘

Utahime has to physically step in, smacking Satoru for his rudeness, while Suguru smiling triumphantly. Satoru pouts like a child. ‘You want to refill your wine, Utahime?’ he offers.

‘Pregnant women can’t drink, you dumb shit,’ Satoru grumbles before stopping. ‘Fuck,’ he curses.

Suguru stares at Utahime, gaping. His eyes fell down to her stomach. Utahime’s jaw drops, her eyes nervously glancing between Satoru and him, back and forth. ‘Speak louder, Satoru. Nobody can hear you,’ she hisses.

‘What the - ? You what ?’

She motions him to follow her while dragging Satoru away from the crowd. ‘I just found out yesterday. I’m pregnant.’

‘What? How?’

‘You see Suguru, when two people really love each other, we fuck - ‘

‘Shut up, Satoru,’ Suguru and Utahime snap. Satoru holds out a hand, surrenders.

‘3 months in. We just found out yesterday. Have gone to the clinic and all. Oh God, what if I didn’t fit in my wedding dress?’ She pales.

‘Hime, come here.’ Satoru hushes, pulling her into an embrace, stroking the back of her head lightly. He places a chaste kiss on her forehead. ‘I’ll buy you a new dress. I will buy you 500 more dresses as long as it fits you. Anything my Utahime wants.’

‘Your fiance is pregnant and you have a freaking party?’ he hisses through gritted teeth. ‘For a physicist, you’re painfully dumb.’

‘You think I didn’t try to talk to her out of it?’

‘Well, try harder?!’

‘Don’t talk about me as if I’m that delicate,’ she groans from Satoru’s chest. ‘I don’t like cancelling. It gives me more headaches and stress. It won’t be good for the baby.’ She jabs her finger on Satoru’s cheek. ‘It’s even worse for this baby.’

‘Besides, I’m the one who handles everything. I took charge of cooking. While she yelled - ouch, Hime! Okay, it was just a joke, honey. I mean, Utahime taught me how to do it right.’

Suguru pushes his hair back. ‘Are you guys okay? Do you need help? How are you taking the news?’ He points his finger accusingly at him. ‘You freaked out, didn’t you?’

He snorts. ‘You’re kidding. I was excited when Utahime told me,’ he says, lips curling into a bright grin. ‘I’m going to be a father. The woman I love is carrying my child. Life can’t get any better than this. I would be content if I di - ‘ He gulps his words when Utahime pushes herself away, glaring at him. ‘Besides,’ he continues, brushing her tear-stained cheeks. ‘It’s her that’s freaking out.’

‘Huh? You freaked out?’

‘It was supposed to be his job to freak out!’ she cries exasperatedly. Satoru mouths hormones when her back is against him. She takes out her handkerchief, sniffing. ‘But of course, this idiot has to be all excited, ready to have a ‘mini-me’ running around in less than a year. So, I panicked.’

Satoru bit his lower lip, trying to stifle a laugh. ‘I’m.. sorry?’ 

‘Congratulations again, both of you. Utahime, I’m sure you’ll be a great mother. And Satoru, I’ll need to wait before I say anything.’

He grins. ‘So, Uncle Suguru will stay and see?’

‘Of course I’ll be there for mini-Utahime.’

Satoru’s smile drops. ‘What if we have a son? And he looks like me? That would be a mini Satoru.’

‘He will still be mini-Utahime,’ says Utahime calmly. ‘And he is going to be mommy’s boy.’

‘My genes are stronger.’

Suguru nods absentmindedly. ‘Might be true. But God forbids if we have another Satoru. He can be a carbon copy of you, but he will definitely take after Utahime.’ He turns to Utahime. ‘Since Uncle Suguru will be here every step of the way, I’ll make sure he doesn’t turn out to have zero manners like his dad.’

‘You’re much of a menace as I am.’

‘I am the lesser evil than you are.’

3:41,  post 500

The fact that Utahime chooses a modern Western wedding instead of a traditional Japanese one proves Suguru more, that he doesn’t really know her that well. Not that it matters anymore.

Suguru is Satoru’s best man at his wedding. He raises a glass of wine when he catches his best friend’s eyes, as he twirls his beautiful bride on the dance floor, dancing to Wonderful Tonight by Eric Clapton with Suguru’s turntable.

He has never seen Gojo Satoru happier. He leans against Utahime, their noses touch, both giggling like young teenagers in love. Utahime did get her dream dress despite being 4 months pregnant since her stomach doesn’t show that much. He no longer doubts that he is genuinely happy for his two best friends.

He is taking a puff of cigarette when he hears the music halt. Suguru cranes his neck to see if anyone actually bumps into the record player and changer.

‘I told her to stick with Tidal if she cares about quality so much.’ A woman’s voice, low and bored. Utahime’s maid of honour, the beautiful brunette with a mole under her eye, hair pins up to a bun, a cigarette between her fingers.

‘Umm. I was the one who suggested the vinyl player. It’s more…her.’

‘I don’t recall my best friend being impractical. Suguru, is it?’

He smirks. ‘Yes. Ieiri…?’

‘Shoko.’ She takes a drag on her cigarette, and exhales. ‘I’m running out. I’ll spare some time pointing out how a hassle that thing is if you have an extra cigarette.’

He holds out a pack, flashing a grin. ‘Seems like we’ve got all night.’

Bonus

‘What do you feed the cat, Utahime?’ Suguru asks incredulously, holding the white furry creature with blue eyes as far away from him as possible. ‘How does he live this long?’

‘How long do you think cats live?’ she frowns.

‘Tell me about it. Moka hates everyone but Utahime,’ Satoru grumbles. ‘Even Suguru.’

‘He doesn’t hate me. He’s just indifferent. You, on the other hand.’

‘Maybe Catoru hates you because you look like him,’ says Shoko, snuggling the small white haired boy to her face. His bright azure blue eyes blink back at her. She nudges Suguru in the ribs. ‘Huh. There are three of them. Satoru, Catoru, mini-Satoru.’

‘ Moka doesn’t hate anyone.’ Utahime smiles sweetly, pinching her son’s cheek. ‘He loves Akihiko the most, because he’s the cutest, aren’t you Akihiko?’

‘Mama,’ little Akihiko holds out his arms to Utahime.

‘Come on, Akihiko, papa. Say papa . I didn’t let you look like me just for you to be mini-mama.’ Satoru pouts.

‘Good. The world doesn’t need another Satoru,’ says Suguru. He watches Satoru get up carrying his son back to his crib. Utahime excuses herself, trailing next to her husband.

‘Suguru. I want a baby.’

‘Wha - ‘ He almost chokes on his drink. His face flushes, mind buzzing. Shoko shoots him a blank look.

‘What? Is it that bad having kids with me?’

‘What - no! Of-of course not. I mean, I would, if you want, of-of course I would want one.’ He fumbles for words embarrassingly. 

‘You know. Since you’re a romance writer, everyone would thought you’re one smooth motherfucker.’

‘I am. That’s how I get you, though,’ he points out.

She tugs his bun. ‘No, that’s not it. That’s only because you’re hot as fuck.’

He thinks about it for a moment, then shrugs. ‘I’ll take that.’ He kisses the top of her head. ‘I do want a mini-Suguru running around,’ he mumbles against her head.

‘Huh, you get the baby fever too. Fat chance, Getou. We’ll only be having mini-Shokos.’

He hums in agreement. ‘Let’s have a girl, a mini Shoko. She would be a menace to a Gojo for once.’

‘Bet.’