Archive of Our Own

The metal door slams against the wall with a bang when Satoru kicks it open. He marches onto the roof with his hands in his pockets and his tongue rolling so quickly around his lollipop it might as well start to smoke, like he's living some off-brand Gintama episode. He already looks like an off-brand Gintoki anyway; it wouldn’t be too much of a stretch.

"You could always use your hands," Suguru mumbles behind him as he closes the door like an actual, very boring human being.

"They're in my pockets."

"Just take them off, Einstein."

"My pockets? Or my hands?" he provokes, reaching the end of the roof and spinning on his heel to rest his lower back against the rail.

Suguru rolls his eyes and sits adjacent to him, opening a can of melon juice. "Never in my life would I imagine I'd see you in a bad mood on Valentine's Day."

"I'm not in a bad mood."

He's tapping his foot against the floor, and he's scowling, and he's huffing like an angry bull, but he's decidedly not in a bad mood. He’s just impatient. It’s different.

"Alright."

"Okay, since you're insisting that much—"

"My Lord, why hast thou forsaken me?"

"Last year, my locker was overflowing with love letters," Satoru affirms with pride, using his lollipop to point at Suguru, "You remember, don't you?"

"Well, I remember the bonfire you made out of them, at least."

"Very good, Watson. So you also think it's strange that this year I only got one, and that it doesn't even say who it's from?"

Suguru squints. "Why are you always Sherlock?" he mumbles under his breath before shaking his head, "Look, I'm not insinuating anything, but don't you think it's weird that you stopped being confessed to… coincidentally the same year Megumi entered our school?"

Satoru considers the words, absentmindedly sliding the lollipop over his lips. "What are you on to, Watson?"

Sighing, Suguru twirls his canned juice around. He only speaks again after he's taken a sip. "Maybe… he's into you–"

He disconnects after that.

Megumi? The Megumi Fushiguro, interested in him? Bullshit. Satoru knows he could conquer anyone's heart without even trying – which, modesty aside, happens all the time, with just about anyone – but his grumpy kouhai is an unfortunate exception to the rule. He's never shown any signs of attraction towards Satoru and, boy, is the albino attentive to that pretty porcupine. He would know.

Although… Satoru does admit that the only time he's seen Megumi excited about anything was the day he learned they'd go to the same school. His eyes had sparkled and his cheeks gained some color, but that might as well have been a mirage, because a second later it was gone.

Case in point: Suguru's a moron.

"Aren’t you supposed to be Watson? How come you’re using Patrick Star logic?!”

Suguru gives him a look – the 'a pebble would be smarter than you' look – and drinks some more juice. "Go ahead then, Sherlock,” he incentives in a mocking tone, "Crack this case open without me."

"Okay, fine," Satoru relents, "Let's say he's into me – which he's not,” Unfortunately. “What does that have to do with anything?"

"You know how he's always fighting other students, right? All the time." Suguru gives a lopsided grin when Satoru nods. "What if he's trying to keep them away from you?"

…What?

Satoru frowns, looking around in thought; a heavy knot forms in his throat, and he's unable to swallow it down.

"That would be really shitty of him,” the albino exhales shakily. He brushes the back of his hand against his forehead; his sweat feels cold. Fuck.

"Right? But that’s if he's even really doing that. I’m just trying to make sense of things with zero proof. ‘S nothing but a theory. You could always ask him the truth, you know."

"I'm not asking Megumi if he has a crush on me,” Satoru grumbles, his mood gradually returning to normal.

"Why not? You're a maninizer anyway."

Satoru keeps a blank face. Dead. Soulless. “I’m a what?”

“A man-slut,” Suguru jokes, cracking a grin. Satoru promptly throws his lollipop at his soon-to-be-ex-friend; he grabs it by the straw mid-air, skilled as usual, before throwing it right back. Satoru captures the sweet with his mouth. “You told me yourself that one of your pastimes is breaking people’s hearts… with your dick.”

“You make it sound way less poetic than it really is.”

“I hope you know you’re an asshole, and I'm not saying this in a friendly way. That’s gonna come biting you on the ass eventually.”

Again with the karmic bullshit? Satoru rolls his eyes and sighs; can’t say he blames Suguru with his weird, overly religious upbringing. It’s no wonder he was sent to an all-boys school with the albino – he probably can’t even see women or something. It’s all supposition though, as Satoru never bothered to ask, and Suguru never bothered to tell. He just supposes their situation is more or less similar (sans for the Getous' religious reasons), as everything else always is.

Satoru would like to think he’s accumulated enough good karma for a lifetime by not running away from home and leaving his father to die alone… although that’s only thanks to Suguru and Megumi being his neighbors, and not out of goodwill. He wouldn’t want to be far away from his two most precious people; nothing else keeps him bound.

Megumi came into their lives more or less one year after he and Suguru met – a kid slightly younger than them, moving in right across from the two one hot summer day. Satoru vividly remembers it because it had been so hot that the neighborhood’s cars looked like stoves… so he tried frying an egg on top of his dad’s brand new BMW. That… did not go well (neither for himself, nor the egg).

While he was getting the earful of his life, he tried shifting his attention elsewhere – all his dad ever does is reprimand him anyway – and that is when he saw Megumi. He’d been getting out of a car right across the street, a backpack slung over one shoulder and a dog plushie tucked under his arm – and at the sight of him Satoru froze on the spot even though he was melting, sweat running down the nape of his neck and sliding down his cheek. They made eye contact, the darkest blue watching him back from afar.

Megumi was so beautiful that Satoru forgot how to breathe.

It started raining then and there, sun still out and everything – the Fox's Wedding, as his grandmother used to call it – and it was so well timed he couldn’t help but feel like it was some sort of sign. His inner romantic even considered something sappy such as destiny, is how enraptured he’d been by the pretty boy across the street.

How that ‘destiny’ ended up leading to missing Valentine’s letters, is anyone’s guess.

Satoru’s attention is stolen by the door to the roof opening; Megumi walks out looking prim and proper, his ironed shirt neatly tucked into his pants and his tie immaculate as it drapes over his chest. His white converses almost glow under the sun they’re so clean, and his pale skin has no sign of a flush or sweat even though it’s just as hot as the day they met; if it wasn't for the bruises coloring his arms and face, Megumi would look like a flawless, very expensive porcelain doll.

He could play the part too, if he didn’t go around sending people to the hospital as a hobby.

Satoru sighs. “You got into another fight,” he mumbles, leisurely rolling his tongue around his lollipop.

Megumi shrugs as he approaches, injured hands inside his pockets as if he’s trying to hide them. Satoru narrows his eyes at the motion, and grabs his kouhai by the arm the moment he comes into reach, pulling him closer to inspect just how much damage was done; Megumi sighs in resignation.

His knuckles are vivid red, the skin torn and bruised – fresh wounds, Satoru muses.

He’s not happy.

People say that the eyes are the windows into one’s soul… but for Megumi, it would be his hands: it’s the medium he chose to display his emotions, to let his feelings through. He taps his fingers on his desk when he’s happy, rubs his index with his thumb when he’s anxious, fiddles with his earlobe when he’s embarrassed. He punches when he’s angry, tightens his hands into fists when he’s upset.

Satoru considers them Megumi’s most precious assets, and demands they be taken care of accordingly. He doesn’t usually do anything other than pestering his friend about it, but…

He applied moisturizer for Megumi, once. Just once.

They’d been in Satoru’s room; the albino was helping his kouhai with homework, but… he was too distracted by his friend’s beauty to properly teach him. He’d given some tips and pretended not to stare as Megumi’s long eyelashes casted acute shadows over his pale cheeks, his pink lips glistening any time he dragged his tongue over them.

It was a custom of Megumi’s to twirl his pen around his fingers when he was thinking. Satoru tended to watch him without doing anything but, that day, he must’ve forgotten his own memo because, in an impulsive fit, Satoru leaned closer and held Megumi’s hand.

He eyed the pinkish palm beneath his own fingertips, the neatly manicured nails; he felt each bump of Megumi’s knuckles with a fleeting, slow touch. His friend has always had the prettiest hands, but– “My skin is kinda dry,” he'd commented in a murmur.

Somehow, that translated into Satoru grabbing some moisturizer to apply on his kouhai. He took his time following all the curves of Megumi’s palm, caressing the pale phalanges, tracing the veins that curled over his tendons, and tenderly grazing his kouhai’s cuticles. He’d leisurely dragged his thumb all the way to Megumi’s wrist, stopping right over his rapidly beating pulse… and, with his breath hitching, let go. He didn't dare glance at Megumi's face.

He should have. Who knows what kind of expression Megumi had. It may as well have held the answer to Suguru’s supposition.

Satoru begrudgingly releases his kouhai’s wrist. “I’m starting to turn into a walking pharmacy,” the albino mumbles, reaching into his back pocket to retrieve a small pack of Totoro Band-Aids, which he sticks over the injuries on Megumi’s knuckles.

“I’m sorry. This wasn’t my fault… as usual,” Megumi says while Satoru patches him up, “I think the other students are just trying to ruin my face, at this point.”

“You may be on to something. Maybe they’re jealous of how you look?” Suguru suggests.

“Pretty people problems,” Satoru hums around his lollipop, letting go of his kouhai’s hand to apply a Band-Aid to the small cut on his left cheek; Megumi closes that eye in response.

“I don’t see you two having that kind of problem,” Megumi grumbles, “I think this is about me. I must be doing something wrong.”

Satoru crunches his lollipop, crackled sugar spreading over his tongue.

Doing something wrong, huh…

“Hey, Megumi,” Satoru begins, removing the straw from his mouth as he munches on his next words, “Would you happen to know anything about my missing Valentine’s Day letters?”

“Oof, hold on,” Suguru hushes from the ground as he’s getting up, can of juice raised as if he’s using it as a big STOP sign, “Just forgot I have something really important to do. Watering the plants, yeah.”

That sleazy Suguru!

“You’re not in the gardening club, though,” is Megumi’s oblivious response. Suguru throws a devilish grin his way, definitely ready to call him out on his naiveté, when the porcupine adds in a thoughtful voice, as he’s resting against the rail beside Satoru, “You really are a kind person to help them like this, senpai. I should be more like you.”

Both Satoru and Suguru drop their heads with a sigh; Megumi’s too sweet for his own good. It’s impressive how he’s able to be both incredibly tame and terribly destructive, all at the same time. Satoru caught him stomping a dude in a hallway the other day, only for Megumi’s expression to open up from “I’m gonna hurt you and you’re gonna like it” to “glad to see you” upon making eye contact with the albino. He even said a small “Good morning, senpai,” as he drove his heel onto his victim’s back.

It was… it was kinda hot. The top secret kind of hot, though.

“Yeah, the world can’t handle a second Suguru. I think you’re good like this, Megumi,” Suguru says as he spins on his heel to start walking away, shaking his can to wave them goodbye. Satoru throws his lollipop straw at his friend, who barely manages to catch it between his fingers. “Lazy-ass. See ya in class.”

Satoru doesn’t pick up the subject again until the door has closed behind his long-haired friend, and a mumbled, “So?” is the albino’s half-assed attempt. Megumi stays silent for a while and, due to the sudden shift in atmosphere – the air growing thick and full of electricity – Satoru can’t bring himself to look at his kouhai to see what kind of face he’s making.

“You… said something about a letter…?”

“About like a thousand letters, actually,” Satoru corrects, his eyes on the passing clouds above as he throws his head back, “I’m very popular as I’m sure you already know, but this year… I only received one letter for Valentine’s.”

It’s still folded and tucked into his front pocket – the situation is so mysterious he didn’t want to let go of it. Even the contents of this letter are a little suspicious, he thinks – he usually receives love confessions that are pages long, some of them containing poetry, a few with romantic song lyrics. This one lonely letter, though, is simply comprised of a pair of sentences, written with admittedly impeccable handwriting, and no signature to be seen:

“I like you. I hope you'll like me one day."

Satoru gets a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach every time he reads the words, or even thinks about them.

They just feel so genuine.

If only the sender was…

Satoru sighs, shaking his head at himself. The sound of his released breath seems to finally rev up the engine inside Megumi's skull.

“I… don’t know anything about it,” his friend stammers.

Satoru forces himself to look at Megumi.

The first thing he sees is the redness dyeing the tip of Megumi’s ear, his profile half obscured by sharp locks of hair. Satoru’s eyes travel to the porcupine’s blushy cheek, then his pursed lips, ending by the flushed skin at the nape of his neck, where a bead of sweat rolls down.

He’s never seen Megumi sweat before. Never seen him blush. Never seen him look anything but a stoic, sometimes grumpy doll.

The biggest telling sign that something’s off, though, is the way he rubs his index with his thumb.

“You don’t know,” Satoru repeats, watching in detail how Megumi’s throat bobs up and down as he swallows.

The albino’s stomach grows heavy, constrained. He doesn’t like that feeling, or the thoughts that come with it.

“You’re responsible for the missing letters,” he accuses, his voice no louder than it had just been.

Megumi’s hair sways as his head shoots up, his eyes widened at Satoru. “What…?”

Satoru sighs, pushing himself off the rail to stand in front of Megumi, left hand in his pocket. He clutches the letter hard enough it scrunches up in his sweaty grasp. “These fights you’ve been picking… are they because of me? Are you trying to keep people away from me like some controlling freak? Playing yandere with my face like it's supposed to be cute?"

His friend doesn’t answer, but his lips part and close as if he can’t bring himself to speak, and it just makes the albino’s gut sink further. Megumi shakes his head with his eyes tightly closed, indignation flashing over his features when he looks at Satoru once more. “What gave you that idea?! I would never—”

“This letter,” Satoru interrupts in a choked breath, unable to hold it in any further, pulling out the folded paper from inside his pocket and holding it up, “You wrote it."

It's not a question.

Megumi’s eyes widen, switching between Satoru’s own gaze and the white paper in the albino’s grasp. His kouhai grits his teeth, fists clenched beside his body. “Are you upset–” Megumi stops himself, his lips pursing tightly for a moment, “Are you upset because you wanted a thousand letters, like the ones you burnt down last year? The ones you thought weren't worth shit? Just this one…" He pauses, stammering, "This— This one confession… it's not enough for you, is it?"

Satoru is the one to tighten his fists now. “What are you implying, Megumi?”

A pause, electrified.

“That I wish your ego wasn’t this big,” Megumi murmurs, his low voice almost lost in the wind, “That you didn’t go around fucking everyone, like some…!”

“Like some what?” Satoru growls, his teeth on the verge of chattering as he's stepping closer to a downcast Megumi. “Are you gonna call me a man-slut too? A whore? Go ahead, I don’t mind. I can’t accept the feelings of someone like you anyway.”

Satoru gulps down a sob as he raises the letter to eye level… and tears it apart, piece by piece.

Megumi’s dark blue eyes glisten, glossy, glassy, as they fill up with tears. They accompany the swaying path the torn papers make in the air before landing on the ground, his fists quaking beside his body and his pursed lips quivering. His friend's pearly teeth show from behind them for an instant, before they disappear behind his hair – Megumi crouches to pick up the pieces, gathering them over his trembling palm before rising to his feet and walking past Satoru without saying a word.

He’s clutching the ruined letter against his heart.

Satoru swallows down, waiting until he hears the door quietly close behind Megumi to finally release the tears he’s been holding back; he crouches and folds his arms over his head, sobbing into his knees.

He doesn’t care about the thousand letters. He had been hoping that this one letter was Megumi’s. He returns these feelings, but—

Satoru doesn’t want to end up like his parents – like his father, giving no love to his own son just because he looks like the woman that poisoned him with her toxicity, that controlled his life, made him abandon his friends and leave his family behind because nothing in the world was allowed to be more important than her. Not even her own son.

He can’t stand it.

Can’t stand the torn pictures around the house, the baseless reprimandings, the loud yelling over the phone because of some divorce bullshit a child should never have to learn. Can't stand counting how many times he locked himself inside his wardrobe to hide from the fighting that happened every time his mother showed up to try and manipulate them into being a family again. Can’t stand his father mimicking the very behavior he claims to hate, trying to control Satoru like a puppet, forcing him to attend an all-boys school just to prevent him from getting a girlfriend. To keep him on a leash.

Too bad he fell for Megumi anyway.

He wishes he hadn’t.

◽▫️💌▫️◽

Suguru notices the change in him before he’s even said anything – maybe his friend has run into Megumi outside, maybe he just knows the albino isn’t okay; either way, Satoru finds him running up the stairs to the roof just as he’s going down, and he can’t bring himself to say what happened.

He’s sure Suguru knows anyway.

His friend never said anything straightforward about it, but it’s obvious he’s catched on to Satoru’s feelings for Megumi, maybe even before Satoru accepted them himself. Suguru’s always teased the albino about looking dreamily at their mutual friend’s house, and poked fun at him for acting like a fool in front of Megumi just to get his attention, to impress their stoic kouhai. The albino had no idea his first love was reciprocated, though.

If only Megumi’s possessive behavior didn’t make him feel sick to his stomach.

◽▫️💌▫️◽

They stop talking to each other after their fight.

It’s days before Satoru can even bring himself to look Megumi’s way. He knows the porcupine hasn’t been speaking to Suguru either, although for completely different reasons.

Seems like Megumi just shut off from everything.

Satoru’s heart constricts with worry and guilt, it aches with the desire to go tell Megumi it’s okay, that they can be together, that he’s sorry for being a dick… but, for all he knows, this could just be some sort of emotional manipulation – another thing he’s way too used to, and quite tired of.

It’s fine if he leaves things as they are. They’ll get over each other.

For now, his heart tries to jump out of his chest and reach out for Megumi every time their eyes briefly meet in class,

and every time their shoulders accidentally brush against each other in the hallways,

and every time he finds a small, torn piece of paper laying inconspicuously inside his locker.

But, eventually.

Eventually.

◽▫️💌▫️◽

Eventually, he receives the last piece of Megumi’s ruined love letter – a piece that hadn’t been there originally.

A little heart, doodled in the corner.

The mere thought that someone like Megumi actually sat down with a pen in his precious hand and doodled a little heart in a piece of paper, probably while scowling and grunting, is enough to make him smile, enough to make his cheeks and his chest heat up with the sweetest warmth he’s ever felt. His chest feels tight. Not constricted: tight.

The Megumi who always shows his emotions with his hands… writes love letters when he’s smitten.

There’s the lightest, swiftest touch to the back of his shirt, an accidental brush that Satoru knows very well, and he whips his head around just in time to see Megumi watching him over his shoulders, not a trace of a scowl on his handsome face. He looks just as flushed as Satoru feels like he is, his eyes glistening just as much as Satoru feels like his own are.

Maybe he had this kind of expression on when he doodled that heart.

He’s still trying.

He hasn’t given up on the trainwreck that is Satoru.

Satoru doesn’t want to give up on him either, but…

Twisting his lips around in embarrassment and uncertainty, Satoru uses his never-before touched Doraemon stickers to glue together all the letter pieces he’s collected so far. It ends up badly deformed, a mocking of what it once was, but put back together all the same. The albino grabs his also never-before touched pink glitter pen and writes beneath Megumi’s impeccable handwriting.

He’s unsure whether this will ever find its way to Megumi, but it feels good to express his feelings like this.

“Ah, Satoru-kun,” is the hook that captures him from the bottom of the cosmic sea he was just drowning in.

The albino turns his head towards that unknown voice with the instant reflex of pushing the letter into his pocket; he comes face to face with a guy he kind of remembers seeing around, probably. He may have had more input about this generic person smiling at him if he wasn’t neck deep in Megumi thoughts, but alas, this is what he has to offer: “Uh– Yello.”

This guy smiles like Satoru’s just done the cutest thing ever, and invades the albino’s personal space as if he’s allowed to, brushing brown hair off his eyes in an attempt to be charming.

Satoru doesn’t see it. His hair isn’t porcupiny enough. His eyes aren’t dark enough. His tie doesn’t drape over his chest like he’s hiding some meaty treasure beneath his clothes.

“I’ve been watching you for a while, and…” this guy gives a toothy smile, cheeks pink, “You’re single, aren’t you?”

“Mm… well, I mean, yeah.”

“Cool! Me and my friends weren’t sure if you’d broken up with that scary kouhai. You see, my friend is…”

Satoru’s brain trails off.

“What did you say?” he interrupts, or maybe doesn’t; he’s not even sure the guy is talking still and hasn’t a knick of a fuck to give. “About the scary kouhai,” he specifies, “What was that?"

“You… didn’t break up? With Fushiguro Megumi, I mean.”

“Why would I break up with him if we weren’t together in the first– Wait. Wait. Hold on a diddly darn minute,” Satoru narrows his eyes, his jaw falling agape, “I know you. Megumi was driving his heel into your spine the other day.” The guy blushes crimson, taking a step back, finally. “Why were you two fighting?”

“Th– That’s not–!”

“Why,” Satoru hisses, using his height to tower over the wide-eyed brunette, “Were you two fighting?”

The guy stammers, his eyes looking around as if he’s searching for some way to escape. Satoru grabs him by the collar.

“I’m gonna punch the answer out of your fucking—”

“It was a challenge!” the guy blabbers out, “I challenged him to a duel!”

“Why the hell would you challenge him?!”

Satoru’s looked at like he’s crazy – like he’s dumb. Like he’s very dumb. “Because… he was your boyfriend? And I wanna date you…? Uh, hold on. My head’s spinning,” he says with both his eyebrows raised, “He… was never your boyfriend, was he?”

The albino blinks at the guy like he’s staring at a dismantled puzzle. “No. No, he wasn’t. He isn’t.”

The guy laughs bitterly before letting out a sigh; Satoru actually pities him enough that he lets go of his shirt. “I can’t believe you fooled the whole school,” the brunette exhales.

Something ignites inside Satoru’s heart – but he doesn’t give it space just yet. Not yet.

“The whole school, you say? As in, everyone that picks a fight with him?”

“Yeah. It’s kind of an unspoken rule, you know? Defeat the demon boyfriend before you get to the pretty prince.”

“Does he know about this?”

“I– I don’t know? Probably not. We kinda just– Tell him we wanna fight and then complain about our injuries in our ‘ Gojo Satoru is God’ Discord server, I guess? What are you—”

Satoru’s brain turns off, again. Again.

And then it turns right back on with all his inner lights flashing.

He slams his locker closed and dashes through the hallway; Megumi was already leaving, but Satoru’s legs are longer than his, damn it, and he makes sure to keep his mad sprint at full speed even after he sees the porcupine getting onto the bus to go home. He crosses the street so quickly the bus doors haven’t even closed when he reaches it.

Megumi just found a seat for himself in the back; the seat beside him is taken… as well as every other. Satoru takes a deep breath as he treads through the vehicle, noticing very pointedly how the porcupine seems to avoid looking at him.

Satoru stops right in front of him. Fearless. (Shameless.)

He folds an arm to casually hold on to the support beam, his eyes focused on the sunset-bathed streets outside. Despite the desire to steal glances at Megumi, he stays strong in his resolve.

Everything’s cool. Nothing’s happened. And it stays like that for most of the way home, until–

“...it started raining,” Megumi comments, the pitter patter of raindrops hitting the window beside them. The sun hasn’t fully set yet, illuminating everything in an orange glow.

“Fox’s Wedding,” they say in tandem.

Acqua eyes meet cosmos blue. Megumi’s expression softens, although his gaze drifts away once more. Satoru licks his dry lips, a trembling hand reaching into his pocket to bring out the Frankenstein letter he attempted to fix. Torn, crumpled, badly taped back together with Doraemon stickers.

This couldn’t be more Satoru in essence if he’d done it on purpose.

He brings up the letter to Megumi’s eye level; his cosmos blues find the letter before briefly meeting Satoru’s own squirming stare. Once it returns to the paper, he carefully takes it between his fingers and gives it a read. Satoru averts his gaze to the outside, watching the raindrops race down the window.

“I like you. I hope you'll like me one day,” is Megumi’s neat handwritten confession, in matte black ink.

Satoru’s reads, in the ugliest pink shade of a glitter gel pen, “I always have.”

Megumi laughs. It’s the prettiest sound ever, and the sight that accompanies it is just as heartwarming – his friend’s eyes gleam with tiny tears that reflect inside his irises: tiny little stars twinkling inside his personal cosmos. He lets Satoru look at them for but an instant before rubbing at them with the back of his hand; he lets his forehead rest against Satoru’s hipbone when he’s done.

“You rejected me,” Megumi mumbles.

“Rejected. Past tense,” is Satoru’s shameless reply as he weaves his fingers around Megumi’s incredibly soft spikes. “I have– I have issues. Issues that need some working on.”

“We can work on them together, if you want.”

Satoru releases a breath of relief. “I don’t deserve you,” he murmurs.

“I don’t give a shit.”

“You’re always so sweet, it’s no wonder I like you.”

Satoru continues to caress Megumi’s hair as the bus drives them home, while his kouhai slides an arm around his waist to clasp at the back of the albino’s shirt. When they go down the steps to the street, they’re holding hands like it’s the most natural thing – a perfect fit, fingers entwined and palms warming up each other even though the rain attempts to cool them down.

There’s the tiniest smile on Megumi’s lips as he drags Satoru towards his house, his long fingers fumbling with his keys as he pushes them into the lock; he pulls the albino inside and closes the door behind them before pushing Satoru against it.

He draws breath sharply; Megumi inches closer with his face dyed red, his glistening lips parted and his eyelids fluttering closed.

Satoru’s world stops spinning when their mouths connect.

He keeps his breath locked inside his lungs, his trembling fingers grasping at the damp fabric covering Megumi’s shoulders. He gives his kouhai the lightest push, silently pleading him to pull away.

Megumi’s eyes are widened when he parts, confusion evident in their dark blue depths. Satoru manages to get some air flowing in and out of his lungs, but it’s ragged. His overworking heart doesn’t help his lightheadedness either. “Wh– What was– I–!” he stutters, unable to finish his sentence.

“It was… a kiss…?” Megumi replies with uncertainty. “I thought you were pretty good at those?”

Crack.

There goes Satoru’s glass castle shattering into a million pieces.

“That was–” He stammers, “That was a lie.”

Megumi stares, his blinking the only indication that he’s not actually a doll. “This was– Your first…” he trails off. Satoru looks away. “Senpai… what else did you lie about?”

“Everything?” is Satoru’s sheepish response, accompanied by a smile that’s just as chagrined. “I– I just wanted to impress you. And to make you jealous. To make you want a piece of me.” The albino stutters over his still unspoken words before managing to choke them out. “I– I’ve never done anything with anyone before.”

Megumi isn’t amused.

“I’d want every piece of you even if you hadn’t had this stupid idea. Congrats on making me jealous, though; mission accomplished.”

Satoru can’t bring himself to make eye contact. The shame won’t let him. “I’m sorr– Mm!”

His eyelids slide closed; Megumi’s lips capture his own softly, slowly, his warm fingers sliding over his cheeks and jaw, to lock behind his neck. “Don’t be,” his friend – his lover? – whispers against his lips, “I told you we can work on your issues together, didn't I?"

"You did," Satoru whispers back, bedazzled by the galaxies in motion inside Megumi's eyes, the stars drifting towards the edges of his irises as his pupils dilate. Black holes, he muses, swallowing Megumi's blues.

"Then let's start… with your lies. We're learning how to kiss, senpai."

Satoru opens up a toothy grin, a giggle erupting from deep within his chest. Happiness, is what this is called.

"Learn? Senpai will show you he's a natural. Take notes, my cute little kouhai," is his last warning before taking hold of Megumi's hips, locking their mouths together for their third kiss – one that involves much more than just lips: tongues and teeth clash against each other as they attempt to devour, hands fumble with each other’s wet clothes to feel the skin underneath. Satoru drags a finger down Megumi’s spine, causing him to arch his chest against his, a gasp escaping into the albino’s mouth.

Megumi responds by pushing his tongue deeper, his fingertips tracing hot paths over Satoru’s stomach, nails grazing and hips locking together. The albino lets out a shameless moan. “You– You never showed any interest in me,” he whispers breathlessly; his kouhai chuckles just as airily.

“I didn’t want to bother you and your hundred dates a week,” Megumi responds against his ear without stopping his hands from roaming over Satoru’s torso; his hot breath makes the albino shiver.

“I’ll have you know I was just watching TV all along.”

“We could’ve been doing that together, you big dummy,” Megumi murmurs before grazing his teeth against Satoru’s earlobe; the albino arches his back and lets out a sigh of pleasure.

“Mm… fuck, this isn’t half bad. Is papa Toji home?”

“Family gathering.”

Satoru chuckles, dropping to his knees with a grin, his hands on Megumi’s belt, “Lemme start to compensate for all the wasted time, then.”

The Fox above the clouds is the one getting wed, but Satoru can have his sweet honeymoon, too.

◽▫️💌▫️◽