Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Suguru heard the door to his bedroom slam open and jerked his head up from his notebook, turning around to see Satoru staring at him intently from just outside his room.

“I need you to be my boyfriend.”

Suguru let Satoru’s words mull over for a couple seconds, before snorting. “What the fuck." Satoru's gaze didn't waver. "Seriously, Satoru, we talked about this.”

Perhaps the two of them had been so familiarized with each other, that the shock factor didn't really hit Suguru, but either way, he was still unsettled by the thought. No matter how many times Satoru brought it up, no matter how many times he offered extra food, Suguru refused.

Satoru threw his hands up. "Listen—"

"No."

"Suguru!" Satoru exclaimed, marching into the room completely and slamming the door behind him, hard enough for one of the photos taped to Suguru's wall to give way to gravity and drift to the ground. Suguru stood up from his seat to grab it — an old photo of him, Satoru, and Shoko in the snow, each holding up their own pair of skis — and gently picked at the tape on the back, tossing that into the trash to set the picture onto his nightstand. All the while, Satoru had collapsed onto Suguru's bed and stared up at the ceiling. "Come on, help a guy out."

Suguru shook his head and took a seat back in his chair, facing towards his worksheet on his desk.

"You aren't even gay ," Suguru mentioned, pressing the eraser of his pencil to his forehead.

Satoru groaned. "What do you know?"

Suguru scoffed and turned back to face Satoru. "You have a pile of girls' phone numbers in your bedroom, that's what I know."

"That doesn't mean anything!"

Suguru raised his eyebrows, and watched as Satoru grabbed one of the pillows and pressed it to his face. "So you're gay?"

"No!"

"My point exactly."

"Maybe I'm bisexual!"

"Well are you?"

"No!"

Satoru took the pillow off of his face, no longer suffocating himself, and Suguru listened to the faint thump as it hit the floor by his feet, not looking away from Satoru, who pushed himself up with one hand and looked at Suguru with pursed lips.

"First Shoko, now you."

"We've talked about this —"

"I know you already said no, but—"

"Shoko's lesbian ."

Satoru scowled and stood up, pacing the floor in front of Suguru.

"That's no help."

"She wouldn't want to help you."

Behind Satoru, one of the curtains was held to the side with Suguru's dresser, letting the sunset rest against his silhouette, red meshing in with purple, and a whole galaxy of colors collided above him.

Satoru sighed and stepped forward, erasing the view of the sunset from Suguru's gaze, and leaned up against his shoulder as best he could, a hand resting on Suguru's head.

"What're you working on?"

Suguru stared back down at the paper and groaned at the thought of continuing his physics homework.

Satoru hummed, his weight a familiar presence at Suguru's side, as fingers drifted through Suguru's tangles and freed them, Suguru's hair falling back down to his shoulders.

"You mixed up the time and period again," Satoru noted, pointing back down at Suguru's sheet.

Suguru swatted his hand away and stabbed the paper with his pencil, not hard enough to break through, but hard enough to dent. Satoru snickered from next to him, and he let the sound bounce around, let it settle in his mind, before he shoved Satoru back.

"You can't even do English, how do you remember this shit?"

Satoru scoffed. "I do fine ."

"You're barely managing a passing grade."

Suguru turned back around to see Satoru laying down on the bed again, reaching for one of the blankets shoved at the bottom. He grabbed a soft grey one, and pulled it up to his chin, frowning when it bristled past his ankles, exposing his instrumentally-talented-cat socks that Suguru had gotten him a couple years back. He tucked his knees up to his chest and pushed the blanket back down. Suguru watched this all with the familiar tickling at his stomach making him almost giddy, and he had to stop himself from snorting.

The thing about the whole "fake-dating" situation wasn't that Suguru despised the idea, or that he had developed an unmentioned hatred for Satoru. It was Satoru's family, and it was Satoru himself. Where Satoru was vibrant and shone with energy that Suguru had despised in their younger years, his family made no exceptions for him as a person. Where they were both arrogant, Satoru split off in the ability to be kind.

And most pointedly: his entire family was a breed of homophobes that Suguru would never experience from his own parents.

In no world did Suguru want to deal with that, yet…

When he saw Satoru lying there, tangled in his blanket, his shoulders moving slowly as he breathed, watching as he tore off his sunglasses and tossed them lazily onto Suguru's nightstand, like he belonged there — because, in a sense, he did — Suguru thought.

Satoru flipped over, the blanket half drifting away from him, and rested his head on his open hand that was lying next to him.

"You really just want to piss off your family, don't you?"

Satoru gave a half-shrug. "It's funny. And you're the only person I really know, so…"

"You couldn't have asked anyone else?"

"You're acting like I know anyone else."

"Utahime?"

"She's three years older than us. And also lesbian."

Suguru leaned back into his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. "So now you're paying attention to her sexuality?"

Satoru waved a hand briefly. "Irrelevant. Listen, just stick with me on this. I'll let you waste all my parents' money, I'll give you free access to their credit card, just humor me with this."

"I already waste all their money."

Satoru opened his mouth and then closed it, accepting it as the point that it was. He rolled over onto his back and groaned.

"Give me a week," he said. "I'll have something for you."

Suguru shrugged.

"Try your best."

//

Phone Call Transcript: November 27, 2006
Outgoing from: goj-hoe to: suguru! <3
Start: 12:37 PM
End: 12:43 PM

GOJO: Heyyy. [laughter]

GETO: [sigh] What is it?

GOJO: Aw, come on. Be nice to me.

IEIRI, from the background of Gojo’s end: Yeah, what happened to you being his enabler?

GETO: I am—I am not even gonna bother answering that question. What do you want?

GOJO: We were supposed to meet up! Where are you?

GETO: Shit, already?

GOJO: Yeah, already. Idiot.

GETO: I’m on my way, leaving the house right now.

GOJO: See ya!

[click]

//

In the following week, Suguru dove himself into schoolwork, letting it fill up his mind when he wasn't out practicing with Shoko or Nanami, letting literally anything fill up his mind as fall dove headfirst into winter and the team was priority number one again, Satoru too busy to even consider showing up at team practices more often than not.

It wasn't even that Satoru was part of the team anymore, but even after he went national, Suguru left behind despite doing just as well, he always did his best to come to practice, to sit with everyone, and Yaga wouldn't say anything because they all did miss him, whether they wanted to admit it or not.

Suguru thumped his head against the table, the paper not helping as the chill from the table in the library spread throughout the rest of his head, leaving Suguru slightly more chilly than he already was, but not enough to throw on the hoodie. No matter how much he trailed his mind away from everything, homework just didn't seem doable. Suguru was a dead man walking at this point, trying to adjust to the schedule, and shorter days.

A tap on his shoulder and he jerked his head up, letting himself relax when he turned around to just see Shoko sucking on a lollipop. She wasn't any harm. Just someone who was about as tired as he was.

"What's up with you ?" She asked, peering over his shoulder to see his homework glaring up at them. "Oh. Nevermind."

"If only."

Shoko shrugged, pulling the chair next to Suguru out, and plopping herself in it, arms draped on the sides. She was the type of person that had a gaze so dead that you felt like she knew every secret about you, and that was just part of her, but half the time she was just about as clueless as Suguru or Satoru.

Suguru sighed, tapping the sheet with the eraser of his pencil, letting it bounce back up and hit the palm of his other hand.

"So it's not the physics homework that's killing you?"

Suguru bit back a smirk and shook his head. In any kinder world it would be, but Satoru was a constant in killing Suguru.

"Just Satoru," Suguru murmured, jotting something down on the worksheet. "Satoru being Satoru."

"When is it not?" Shoko asked, leaning back in her chair.

Fair enough.

He felt her gaze burning into the side of his face, a thousand words unspoken as he tried his best to focus on the homework in front of him, covered in smiley faces and attempts at shitty signatures and hearts.

Satoru being Satoru.

 //

Phone Call Transcript: December 2nd, 2006
Voicemail from: geto suguru to: shoko
Start: 02:23 AM
End: 02:28 AM

GETO: Uh, fuck, okay so Satoru’s birthday is coming up—Don’t pretend you forgot, I know you didn’t. His family isn’t gonna bother doing anything, so I was wondering if you wanted to set up some surprise party or something? [sigh] I mean, he’s turning seventeen this year, so nothing like, huge, I guess. But he gets a little bit happier, so I think it’d be worth it. My parents are open to doing anything at our house. [soft laughter] Unless he has practice that day, then we can postpone. Does four thirty work for you? PM, not AM. I’ll have him come over and we’ll have some ice cream cake. Let me know how that works for you.

[click]

//

Three days later, Satoru came up to him and said:

"You'll be dating me !"

Suguru squinted at him, waiting for him to laugh it off, and when it didn't happen, he shook his head, smirking as he leaned back over to buckle up his ski boots.

"What?!"

"That's not a reasonable trade."

"How so? It's true."

Suguru finished up with the strap at the top and straightened himself again.

"Listen, Suguru," Satoru said, pressing his shoulder against Suguru's. "My parents have been up my ass about getting a girlfriend, and I really think this could get them to shut up."

"Or make it ten times worse."

Satoru snickered and kicked Suguru's foot with his own as Shoko walked up to them, an unlit cigarette dangling from her lips.

"Shoko, defend me."

"No."

Satoru rolled his eyes and waved in her direction.

"I can agree with her statement," Nanami said, walking up to them with Haibara next to him.

"You guys don't even know what I was talking about," Satoru exclaimed, pushing himself off of Suguru and stepping through the growing group, walking towards the doors. Suguru stood up and pressed a hand to Shoko's head, smirking as she tried to push it off, and the rest of them followed Satoru as he walked out the front door, letting it slam in Shoko's face.

"I pity anyone who ever dates him."

Suguru snorted and grabbed his skis, letting them briefly tap against her head as she held the lighter up to her cigarette. And then she said, because as far as she knew, Satoru was actually asking Suguru out:

"Please never say yes."

He raised an eyebrow at her as he set down his skis, and didn't say anything else as he put them on and followed Satoru down the run, not looking back to see Shoko's disappointed glare.

//

Phone Call Transcript: December 5th, 2006
Voicemail from: mama geto to: suguru
Start: 04:57 PM
End: 05:01 PM

GETO: Of course everyone can come over! I bought an ice cream cake from the store, the one we had last year, I know Satoru liked that one! Hope the rest of practice goes well, sweetie! Tell the others hi for me, I’m excited to see them all. Oh, and make sure to clean your room!

[click]

//

When Suguru opened the front door to his house, his parents were flanking his shoulders, looking expectantly at Satoru, who was in a fancy suit.

"Suguru!" His mom groaned from behind him. "I told you, you need to dress up!"

Suguru glared at Satoru.

“Why the fuck are you wearing a suit?” Suguru asked, yanking Satoru’s arm and pulling him into the house before anyone could say anything else.

“‘Cause it’s my birthday, duh. Hi!”

Suguru watched impatiently as his dad offered Satoru a side-hug.

This was horrifying. For various reasons, but most importantly Satoru was an hour early. And not an hour early from his own to-be arrival time, but an hour earlier than everyone else was supposed to come.

He should have planned for this, but Satoru was unexpected in a thousand different ways, and Suguru learned to deal with it far earlier on. The cake was already in the fridge, more than half the decorations were already up, but Satoru was fashionably early for whatever unknown reason, and the others were supposed to help finish , and get their presents, because who the fuck knows what Shoko was scrambling to buy for the asshole last minute.

And here Satoru was, already opening the fridge, looking for the cake.

“Rainbows? Again?”

“Would you rather have My Little Pony ?” Suguru retorted, peaking over Satoru’s shoulder into the fridge, where Satoru’s cake was sitting, rainbow frosting on the edges.

Satoru turned around, forcing Suguru to take a step back, and smiled. “Yes, actually.”

Suguru rolled his eyes but returned it as Satoru bumped his forehead against Suguru’s, leaning into his touch.

“So,” Satoru whispered. “Did you take my idea into consideration?”

“No.”

Satoru sighed. “It’s not that big a deal, Suguru!”

For you , he wanted to say. Because Satoru was allowed to risk being careless.

“Satoru.”

Suguru gave him a look, raising his eyebrows, pursing his lips, trying to stop the conversation before it got any further, before his parents walked in. It seemed to do its job because Satoru shut up, shrugged and walked away, leaving Suguru alone in his own thoughts.

He wondered, though. Would it be so bad? Could he fight his way back to the top, could he manage that again?

Suguru honestly didn’t know if he should bother trying to find out.

//

Phone Call Transcript: December 8th, 2006
Outgoing from: geto suguru to: shoko
Start: 01:17 AM
End: 01:21 AM

GETO: Hey, uh— [laughter in the background] oh, shut up—hey, Shoko.

IEIRI: What is it?

GETO: Thanks for helping out today, even though this idiot — [laughter] —was two hours earlier than we planned. 

IEIRI: Is this about the cake?

GOJO, from the background of Geto’s end: I didn’t mean to drop it!

IEIRI: Uh-huh. What are you assholes still doing awake?

GETO: He wanted to watch Pokemon.

IEIRI: Naturally.

GOJO: Yeah, Shoko, where are you? You’re supposed to be here.

IEIRI: Oh, no, I’m hanging out with Haibara.

GOJO: Oh, sweet! I’m sorry he couldn’t make it today. Tell him we say hi!

IEIRI, whispering: He’s freaking out ‘cause he really likes Nanamin, and doesn’t wanna say anything. It’s kinda sweet, but since he’s moving away, fucking depressing.

GETO: Oh, fuck, seriously?

GOJO: Were you not aware of this?

GETO: Shut up. Bye, Shoko.

IEIRI: Bye.

GOJO: Thanks for the cake!

[click]

//

They were sitting on a curb a couple weeks later as December continued to freeze, Satoru's legs stretched out in front of him, Suguru's crossed, the edge pressing against his ankles as he ignored the pain, when Satoru brought it up again.

His chin was tucked against Suguru's shoulder, his hair tickling Suguru's ear. Suguru was holding his sunglasses in one hand, careful to not let them drop, yet careless as he fidgeted with them.

The weather was muggy that day, a rainstorm had just finished and the curb beneath them was still wet, water flowing under their legs to the drain as Suguru stared hazily up at the sky, watching as the grey clouds passed overhead.

"What if," Satoru started, pulling his glasses back from Suguru's fingers, "I drive you to school for a week?"

Suguru snorted. "I don't want to die ."

"You won't have to pay for gas, though."

Suguru hummed. Fair enough.

He settled with the thought, knowing that Satoru's family was full of expensive cars that didn't even run on gas, and Satoru's shitty driving that could probably be easily pushed to the side with what would only form a small dent in the family's bank.

"A month, tell me what this entails, and we might have a deal."

Satoru let out a long sigh and lifted his head up. "Really? That's what it took?"

Suguru shrugged.

He could've said yes weeks ago — months, even — when Satoru asked him for the first time, but he kept putting it off like a drain at the back of his mind. He couldn't say why, didn't have a definite reason, but the joy that came with Satoru hearing "yes" after a month of hard "no's" was warming enough in the chilly air.

"I'm not gonna—okay, so, family dinner is one thing. I already told them I'm dating someone, so they're dying to meet you, cause they don't know it's you yet."

Suguru let out a long sigh and rolled his eyes.

"And I think it's just taking photos when we go out, annoying everyone else about it, and most importantly," Satoru said, holding up his pointer finger, "Don't tell anyone."

Suguru raised an eyebrow. "Not even Shoko?"

Satoru waved his hand and looked back out towards the parking lot. "Maybe her, we'll see, but other than that, no one ."

Suguru stared at Satoru, who focused back on the parking lot in front of them, and looked at the way the clouds dripped around him, fighting with his blue eyes.

"Also," Suguru said, "What are you out to your parents as?"

Satoru frowned and looked over at him. "What do you mean?"

"Well—you can't just bring me home to meet your parents and be straight ."

Satoru opened his mouth, and then closed it, and then shrugged.

"Like—I'm pan, my parents know that, but it'd be weird if I brought you to meet them, and you're like 'it's just a thing.' It's already weird enough you're lying about your sexuality for shits and giggles."

"Gay, then."

Suguru looked at Satoru, really looked at him, and noticed the way the word rolled off his tongue, like it hadn't even been spoken yet up until that point. The way his mouth opened, and pronounced it a little too hard, and noticed the way he kept his eyes closed for a second too long after saying it. Suguru was never one for picking up on physical notices, but sometimes with Satoru, it was a little too obvious, and he was left lingering in the shadows. Unaware.

So he ignored the way his stomach flipped over and looked back out at the parking lot.

"Can I just not?" Satoru asked, looking over at Suguru.

Suguru shrugged. "I suppose."

The air warped into unfamiliar silence around them.

"Wanna do the family dinner next weekend?" Satoru finally asked, pressing his arm back against Suguru's. "Get it over with. I can stay at your place while everything blows over."

Suguru snorted, but didn't object. "You'll be in a different country soon enough."

"What does that mean?"

Suguru waved him off.

"I'll have you know," Satoru said, pulling back from Suguru, "That I'm only gonna be there for a week. And the Olympics are in a year , so yeah , you'll be stuck with me for a while."

Suguru bumped Satoru's shoulder with his. "Sure."

When he looked over, Satoru was sliding his sunglasses back on, blocking out the non-existent light in the remaining clouds, a growing smile forming at his lips. And he looked back out at the parking lot, which was empty and bare, ugly beneath grey clouds, but relaxing with Satoru by his side.

What was he even getting himself into?

//

Phone Call Transcript: December 19th, 2006
Outgoing from: goj-hoe to: suguru! <3
Start: 10:43 PM
End: 10:58 PM

GETO: You are ridiculous, you know that, right?

GOJO: I’m being fine.

GETO: Satoru, I mean this with my whole heart — Utahime, under no circumstances, would be eager to help you out. At all. Not to mention we have to take care of Megumi this weekend.

GOJO: I want to help her out! And yes, I know, it would be after that.

GETO: It is Megumi’s birthday , we are not missing this because you are convinced you can get Utahime to like you.

GOJO: She does.

GETO: No, she doesn’t. What time are we going present shopping?

GOJO: After we drop off Tsumiki back at the house.

GETO: God, I hate leaving them with Toji.

GOJO: I know, me too. We’ll figure it out, but I don’t think either of us can handle watching kids right now.

GETO: What, does that mean we will be able to in the future?

[Silence.]

GETO: Alright, asshole, see you tomorrow.

GOJO: See you!

[click]

//

Satoru didn't leave his side very often after that. Because, apparently, pretending to be boyfriends meant that they had to act like it before they actually told anyone. Though, if you asked Suguru, they already kind of acted like that. So he wasn't all that surprised when Satoru randomly showed up at his door one weekend when he was just about to make lunch, before heading over to the Fushiguro’s.

He was surprised when Satoru said, beneath a bright green umbrella underneath clear skies, "Let's go out on our first date!"

So perhaps he shouldn't have been, considering he knew this was coming, but he didn't want to deal with it now .

The only proper response, then, was:

"No."

Satoru frowned, but closed the umbrella and walked inside the house the moment Suguru stepped back, kicking off his shoes, watching them hit the wall in front of them, before walking off into the kitchen. Suguru, who had been the apparent coat rack, in that moment, set the umbrella off to the side, leaning against the wall, and followed Satoru.

He shoved his hands into his pockets as Satoru started roaming around the kitchen, opening and shutting cabinets, pawing through the pantry to try and find something sweet, before giving up and walking to the refrigerator.

"Do they have clementines?" Satoru asked.

Suguru came up next to him, arm brushing against Satoru's, and opened a drawer in the fridge, where cold fruits lie untouched.

"You keep them in the fridge?"

Suguru shrugged and pulled one out, handing it over to Satoru, who grabbed it without hesitation before he walked over to the counter to sit on top of it. Suguru stared at him as he shut the fridge door behind him, and followed suit, pushing himself onto the counter so he was next to Satoru, shoulders brushing before Satoru laid his head down on Suguru's shoulder.

Normal.

They were still friends, even if it was just to them, they would be friends first and everything else second.

So they sat there in silence, because Satoru was eating his clementine, occasionally handing pieces over to Suguru, who ate them without question, and in the silence he mourned.

He didn't know what, exactly, but there was the sense that they'd be friends first was slowly starting to dissipate alongside this regularity. He didn't want it to fade, he didn't want to look at Satoru and feel something other than joy. But he'd do anything for him, and that made all the difference in the world.

So as the Sun burned to silence above them, and Satoru hummed and started talking about plans for them, for their future, for their friends and parents, Suguru enjoyed the feeling, because he didn't know how to do anything else.

//

Phone Call Transcript: December 23rd, 2006
Voicemail from: suguru to: mama geto
Start: 09:23 AM
End: 09:27 AM

GETO: Hey, mom, sorry I forgot to come home last night, I spent the night with the kids, and Satoru’s here as well. Megumi had a nice day, even if he was being an asshole about it.

M FUSHIGURO, distantly : No, I wasn’t.

T FUSHIGURO: We had a lot of fun! Thank you for letting him watch us!

GOJO: Hey, what about me?

GETO: You complain more than you do anything else.

M FUSHIGURO: Yeah.

GOJO: What? Tsumiki, you have my back, right?

T FUSHIGURO: Uh…

GOJO: Betrayal. Don’t forget to remind him about my ring pop!

GETO: Yeah, yeah, shut up. Anyways, I’ll be home after lunch, hopefully. And I’ll remember his ring pop. Hope you guys weren’t too worried? See you.

[click]

//

They started simple: with their friends.

Shoko and Utahime, they decided together. From there, the news would just spiral until everyone in the group knew.

As they walked up to the café, Satoru grabbed Suguru's hand, and held on tight, laughing underneath grey clouds that dimmed an otherwise bright day. Suguru shook his head and shoved Satoru away with his free hand, but kept a hold with their entangled fingers, not wanting him to stray too far.

"Alright, alright," Suguru said as they walked into the café, noticing the way Shoko was watching them, ignoring Utahime's glare. Shoko had an eyebrow raised as she took a sip out of her drink. His eyes flickered over to Satoru who was tugging on his hand to go over to the line, and Suguru glanced over at Shoko momentarily before following him. "You're paying."

"That's no way to treat your boyfriend!"

Suguru raised an eyebrow at Satoru who was pouting. "You—"

"Shh," Satoru said, pressing his pointer finger to Suguru’s lips, but reached back to pull out his wallet all the same. “What d’you want?”

Suguru hummed, skimming over the menu. “Hot chocolate.”

“With whipped cream!”

“No.”

Satoru glared at him, but shrugged and turned around to face the barista, just before the person in front of them stepped away. Suguru nudged Satoru, and motioned towards Shoko and Utahime, before stepping away and walking over to their table, leaving Satoru gaping on his own.

Shoko stared at him with a severe intensity as he sat down, grabbing one of the napkins and fidgeting with it, tearing it into smaller pieces.

“So,” Shoko started, setting her cup down with a loud clatter as it tipped over, nothing spilling out.

“So,” Suguru repeated, focused on the napkin, picking up the already small pieces and tearing them up even tinier. He’d probably keep going until it was reduced to atoms if it meant putting off this conversation.

“Do you and Satoru have something to tell us?” Shoko asked, standing her cup back up and picking up the straw to chew on it. An alternative to smoking in a closed off area.

Suguru hummed, and kept staring at it, waiting for Satoru to come over with their drinks. The napkin was now scattered across Suguru’s part of the table, more the residue from it than actual pieces of napkin.

There was no point in stalling, really. He just wanted to wait until Satoru got here, because he had wanted to tell them himself, for no good reason. What was the point if it wasn’t even legitimate? But Satoru was a wave of mystery, and Suguru had stopped trying to reach up for air years ago.

When Satoru did come over, he had two cups in hand, Suguru’s hopefully whipped cream-less and his own, and set them down on the table, pressing a kiss to the top of Suguru’s head. Suguru just barely restrained the urge to duck down, and looked over at Satoru as he sat down next to him.

“Hi,” Satoru said, grinning.

Utahime groaned. “Come on, just give it up. We know you’re dating.”

Satoru and Suguru both snickered, and Satoru took a sip from his hot chocolate, overloaded with whipped cream. 

Shoko raised an eyebrow at them, but shrugged with one shoulder. “Thanks for the confirmation, then.”

Satoru frowned and turned to face her, eyebrows narrowing. “What confirmation?”

“Nothing," said Shoko, looking back down at her cup with serious concentration.

Suguru bit down on his lower lip, trying to stifle a laugh. Satoru gasped and fell backwards in his chair, arms draping over the back.

“Shoko! You have so little faith in me.”

“Shut up, grumpy man."

Satoru pushed himself up and frowned, before shrugging. “Whatever.”

“Yeah, so.”

Suguru nudged Satoru’s foot with his own and watched as Satoru turned to him and frowned. It was a short ploy for those two, and Suguru didn’t need to look over at Utahime to know she was probably looking scandalized. Satoru looked exhausted from even bothering to try in the first place already, and it had been less than ten minutes.

When Suguru turned back to the other two, Shoko was whispering something into Utahime’s ear as she looked over at him and Satoru, and she covered her face with a hand, trying and failing to stifle a laugh.

As Shoko pulled back, she carefully looked over at Satoru.

They stared at each other for a few minutes, before Utahime waved a hand between them, failing to break eye contact.

Satoru blinked first.

Shoko grinned. “I win.”

“Fuck you!”

“No thanks,” Shoko whispered, pulling her straw away from her mouth and putting it back in the cup.

Satoru scowled and turned back to face Suguru, who was already watching him, and smiling as he did so.

“Well,” Satoru said, suddenly flustered for no apparent reason, as he turned to face back towards Shoko, “I’m hoping you’ll tell the others we're together. I mean we can too, but I just don't want to.”

Of course Satoru just wouldn't want to — he's lazy by nature.

“Why?”

“‘Cause then it’s easier for us to handle my parents.”

Shoko raised an eyebrow and shrugged, ignoring Utahime poking her shoulder. “Sure.”

Satoru turned back to face Suguru, and smiled, nudging Suguru’s shoulder with his own, and Suguru pressed back against it.

Yeah, okay.

//

Phone Call Transcript: December 29th, 2006
Outgoing from: goj-hoe to: suguru! <3
Start: 09:56 PM
End: 10:08 PM

GOJO: Heyyyyyy.

GETO: Why are you calling me right now?

GOJO: Why do you sound so ticked off? I thought you’d be happy to hear my voice.

GETO: [soft cough] Sorry. Haven’t been feeling well.

GOJO: [mumbling]

GETO: What?

GOJO: Nothing. Listen, would it be okay if I came over on the 31st? Spend New Years together? Maybe talk to your parents.

[Silence.]

GOJO: I-

GETO: You’d come either way.

[Silence.]

GETO: Yeah. Come on over. We’ll talk to them.

GOJO: Really?

GETO: Yes, really. Come over.

GOJO: You—Thank you! I’ll see you then.

[click]

//

So two days later, Satoru was pressed up against his side in his kitchen, his parents sitting across from them like this was a normal occurrence, because it was . That's what made this so much worse — the fact that they didn't have to change anything about their behavior. Not really. It just had a new label to it in the eyes of everyone around them, and to everyone around them, it probably just made sense .

Before they even came to Suguru's place, Satoru had said they were probably fine either way.

"Holding hands, I guess," Satoru had said. "Maybe a kiss."

Suguru didn't know how to feel about that. About kisses. He never kissed anyone in his life, and wasn't really thinking about it. Until Satoru swung a bat at his head, one that had "FAKE DATING" written on it in thick, bold fucking Sharpie, and he couldn't dodge it, as much as he tried.

It took them long enough to find a date and time when both Satoru, Suguru, and Suguru's parents were all free, with his parents working, Satoru constantly at practice with the national team, and Suguru practicing with his own team. They squeezed it in, though: a chilly Friday night when Satoru had a week off and Suguru decided he wouldn't show up for practice that day.

"I really enjoy this!" Satoru exclaimed, taking another bite.

"Aw," Suguru's mom said, pressing a hand to her heart. "You're always so kind, Satoru." When Suguru looked over, he just managed to catch Satoru winking at his mother, flattery and all pushed forward before he focused back on his food. "Have you met any sweet girls recently?"

Suguru choked on his noodles. He immediately grabbed for the water his dad was holding out for him, and took a long sip, letting himself settle before wiping at his eyes. And when he looked over at Satoru, he was staring at Suguru with his eyebrows raised.

Suguru shrugged and turned away from Satoru to focus back on his cup, taking another sip.

"I, uh…" Satoru said, turning back to face Suguru's parents. "I did find someone, actually!"

Suguru stared down at his drink as he set it down on the table, and felt Satoru's gaze digging into his shoulder, about to say the words, but Suguru stayed quiet, and didn't do anything, didn't move because what was he doing here? It wasn't that he was going to retract on his deal with Satoru, as dumb of a deal as it was, it was that he was sitting down at a table with his parents, and the first thing that he thought of when it came to it was the way his mom's face sort of fell when he told them. Because coming out as queer, and being in a relationship with another man were two separate things, and he didn't know if he was ready to cross that bridge yet.

On top of the fact that he would be lying if he did tell them. In a few months, what would they do if nothing changed? What would Suguru tell his parents if they had a fake break-up, what then?

Was he overthinking again?

Probably.

Fuck.

"Yeah," Suguru spoke up, before Satoru could say anything else. "We—"

"We're together!" Satoru announced grandly, swinging an arm over Suguru's shoulders, and Suguru looked up to smile at him, admiring the way the sun fell around his face, and the way he grinned down at Suguru.

He, once again, reconsidered his decision when Satoru raised an eyebrow, a question on his face, and one that Suguru didn't get the opportunity to answer before Satoru pressed his lips to Suguru's nose. It was soft and quick, like a brush on canvas, but Suguru could feel his chest thrum beneath it all. And when Satoru pulled away, he didn't look over at his parents, because he didn't want to see their faces, whether they were crestfallen or glad.

He swore he heard his dad say something, but all he noticed, as he pressed his face into Satoru's shoulder, was the faint smell of tangerines swarming Satoru's clothes.

It never left, a constant around him. Always either tangerines or clementines. Suguru knew the taste of the two so well simply because Satoru always had some on him for unwarranted reasons. The food was a favorite.

Satoru replied, his hand settling around Suguru's waist, and he finally had it in him to start paying attention.

"It's a fairly recent development," said Satoru, as he pressed his cheek to the top of Suguru's head.

All of this was so familiar, they didn't even have to act much different than before. Before was still filled with touches and exclamations, Satoru on his back, Satoru at his side. Just Satoru. Suguru was still clinging on where he could, he was still trying his best to never let go. The only new burden was a different label that he hadn't even wanted — at least, not with such haphazardness. 

So when he finally tilted his head to the side, facing his parents again, he noticed the fondness in his mother's eyes, the way she admired them — Suguru in particular — with such care, and he felt his heart settle down a little. She always noted them with generosity, always gave Suguru a quiet voice of affection, and appreciated Satoru with such joy in doing so.

While Suguru's dad looked a little stern. He had a smile plastered on, but all the meanwhile, his eyebrows were narrowed and he was biting his lower lip.

Suguru hesitated before lifting his head up from Satoru's shoulder, ignoring the whine, yet being unable to ignore the way he tightened his grasp around Suguru's waist and pressed himself tight against Suguru's back. A chin pressed to his shoulder as he looked at his dad, and he dropped a hand to where Satoru's were crossed over his stomach.

His dad’s face finally settled into a calm expression, and he smiled at them.

“Stay safe out there,” he said.

It had occurred to them how genuine that was, and he almost pulled away from Satoru. There wasn’t any threat to it, there was only worry. For them. Suguru knew the repercussions, but hearing it from his own dad, someone who cared so wholly, that was different. Because he was aware of the fact that walking around holding hands wouldn’t always be ideal, but that was a slim thought in the back of his mind, and one Satoru clearly hadn’t thought to address.

So when he looked up at his dad, he smiled softly, and pressed his cheek to the top of Satoru’s head, plastering on the most genuine smile he could muster.

“We will.”

//

Phone Call Transcript: January 3rd, 2007
Voicemail from: goj-hoe to: suguru! <3
Start: 08:34 AM
End: 08:47 AM
[This voicemail was deleted off of Geto Suguru’s phone at 09:53 AM.]

GOJO: Do you know how goddamn cold this mountain is? It’s freezing . So much worse than the one you’re still on, I swear. Complain as much as you’d like, this is so much worse , and you’re going to ask, ‘Satoru, why don’t you just wear hand warmers?’ Well, Suguru, That’s a very good question. That is a, uh… That is a very good question. [deep breath] I forgot to have coffee this morning, but uh. Thank you. Thank you for being there, thank you for going along with my stupid plan. [silence] What am I even saying? I’ll see you when I get back to your place, and if you’re asleep, I might just— Whatever. I’ll see you.

//

After that, it was tumbling through it. Step by step.

At least, that was what the 'How to fake-date someone: a step by step guide' post that Satoru sent him said.

Where did Satoru even find this shit? He had to have some filter that showed the most deranged shit first, instead of whatever most normal people would do. What would a normal person click on? Suguru doubted a normal person would even go digging for this.

Granted, these were all things he was thinking to himself as he skimmed through it, Satoru on the other end of the call complaining about how the national coach — Tengen, the name was — wasn't letting him catch a fucking break despite the weather beating on his ass.

"Maybe you could just start packing hand and toe warmers to bring to practice?" Suguru suggested, reading through a section titled 'Talk it through!' If he and Satoru talked any of this through properly, this wouldn't have been happening. "Like any other normal person would? Instead of hiding in the bathroom to try and warm up?"

Suguru heard a soft thump , followed by a low groan from Satoru and a soft, "Shit."

"Did you drop something?"

"Fucking goggles on the bathroom floor —" Satoru complained. Rummaging filtered through the speakers, and Suguru snorted.

'Boundaries must be set, otherwise things can get a bit complicated!'

Complicated how ? More complicated things already were?

"Hey, Satoru?" Suguru spoke up, wondering if Satoru would hear him over the click of a door opening.

"Hang on—" Satoru said. The sound of a faucet started running relayed, and Suguru pressed the back of his hand to his mouth, hoping it would muffle his laugh, but failing all the meanwhile. "You're laughing at me, I know you are!"

Suguru opened his mouth and shut it, almost expecting to feel Satoru at his side.

"Now, you're doing the thing where you try to defend yourself, but you can't, so you just start laughing even harder, you're the worst —"

Suguru let out a noise that sounded vaguely like a cat dying. Because Satoru wasn't wrong. Satoru was never wrong, he knew Suguru's actions like the palm of his own hand. Like Suguru knew the palm of Satoru's hand.

"You're the one who dropped your fucking ski goggles on the bathroom floor —"

"Yeah, 'cause I was talking to you —"

"Oh, I see how it is, so it's my fault."

"Wh—you suck . You fucking suck, I swear. Gonna guilt trip me into doing this shit." The faucet had stopped running, Suguru realized. At least the goggles must be clean now. "When I get back from practice, I'm going to drive over to your house and slam a door in your face, dramatic break-up style and all . Do you want that, Suguru? You want me to break up with you?"

Suguru started shaking his head before he knew what he was doing. "I'm gonna hang up on you."

"No you're not , Suguru—"

He stared down at the bottom of his screen, where bright red was glaring up at him, and genuinely considered pressing it, sighing and shaking his head, his hand falling back to his side.

"Knew it!"

"Oh, okay. You want your fucking boyfriend to hang up on you?"

"Wha—"

"I see how it is, Satoru. Maybe this won't work out."

"Suguru—"

"Have a good day."

The last thing he heard was a sharp "Su—" before hanging up and staring down at his phone.

The next thing he saw was Satoru's ugly face staring up at him as his phone started going off again.

Satoru's icon on his phone was a two year old photo Shoko took — the only talent she had that Suguru was jealous of. The ability to take the most horrifyingly ugly photos of Satoru. He had a folder specifically for photos she took that he could hold against Satoru at any time, not that Satoru would care if he did, but it was the thought that counted — the photo was Satoru leaning into the camera, his nose as close as he could possibly get it without it touching, and a bright pink fluffy headband holding his bangs back.

It was a cursed day, the fucking mani-pedi station that Suguru's cousin had set up for them. Never again.

After the next couple rings, Suguru finally had it in him to sigh and pick up, holding the phone to his ear as he grabbed an empty cup that must've been on his desk for weeks now, and walked out his room. His mom sent him a questioning gaze and he waved his hand with his phone, a sign of 'it's okay' as Satoru picked up yelling again.

"You're gonna hang up on your boyfriend ?"

"Satoru—"

"Suguru?" His mom shouted out as he started to head down the stairs. He pressed the back of his phone-hand against his forehead.

Satoru, what have you done?

"You shouldn't be hanging up on your boyfriend, Suguru. I thought this was common knowledge!" He sent her a withering glare. "What? You must treat him with respect, just as he treats you with his own."

Suguru opened his mouth to argue that no, Satoru doesn't treat him with any respect , but found it ultimately useless when he heard Satoru's voice through the phone, and tilted his head back in despair.

"Thank you!"

"See, Suguru!"

The world was hell bent on making Suguru's life miserable.

"Ah," he said, pulling his hand back from his forehead. "My apologies, Satoru." Suguru hoped he could hear the malice dripping from his voice as his mom raised an eyebrow at him, and waved a hand for him to continue walking down the stairs. And he listened.

"Your mom is so nice."

"I'm gonna kill you."

Suguru busied himself with opening the dishwasher to set the cup in as Satoru gave a detailed explanation about all the kids on his team and their current practice scores next to Satoru's standing 'second-highest-national-record'. Second highest because Shoko, of course, who refused to join the national team, still ruled the stands.

"Everyone's mostly nice," Satoru hummed. "But this one kid from Okinawa keeps dragging my ass for no reason , like please shut up. For two seconds. I beg. It is grating at my ears to just hear his voice ."

"I'm sure you can manage, you only have another hour of practice." Suguru glanced at the clock above the window next to the kitchen sink. Forty minutes, not even an hour. "How does Tengen put up with your bullshit?"

Satoru scoffed. "More like I put up with his bullshit. I miss Yaga."

Suguru froze, and stared at his phone.

"Don't tell him I said that—"

"I'm so telling him you said that."

"Utahime is going to hold it against me for the rest of forever, I swear—"

"That's the whole point, asshole." Satoru let out a low whine. "Come on, everyone's probably waiting for you."

"They should. This whole thing isn't for another fucking year, anyways." A low sigh echoed through the phone, and Suguru sent back his own, trying to make it seem like mockery, but failing and feeling the exhaustion rub at the edges. "Can I stop by after practice is over?"

The red flashing light in Suguru's head started going off, a recurring presence recently, and he was on his toes to say 'no', but he was tired too, and having Satoru back at his side for the first time in a couple days might help, even if he loathe to admit it. Not to mention the mess that was Satoru's family ever since he mentioned dating someone. And they still didn't know it was Suguru yet. They had to figure that timing out.

Suguru shut the dishwasher slowly, letting himself filter everything in his mind, a pros and cons list two seconds in the making, when a voice out of the corner of the kitchen spoke up.

"Stop on by!"

Really, mom?

"Thank you for answering! I was hoping I'd get a response in the next century."

"Of course, Satoru." The glare his mom sent him was something dreadful, and Suguru knew he'd be hearing about that the second the call hung up.

He walked out of the kitchen, leaving her on her own and whispering into the phone, "Nevermind, you can keep talking."

"Oh?" Satoru sounded surprised, and Suguru rolled his eyes. "What's that? You want to talk to me?"

Suguru dragged a hand down his face. "If I hang up, she's never going to let me hear the end of it. I want to stall it as long as possible."

"Call Shoko."

"Then she'll just lecture me." And Suguru didn't know if that was worse or better, if he was being honest with himself.

He could practically see Satoru shrugging from behind the phone.

"Whatever," Suguru groaned. "I'll get it over with."

"Congrats, I'm proud of you!"

Suguru's hand tightened into a fist, and he prayed for the moment Satoru showed up on his front door so he could kick him right back out again. The second his mom would allow it, and Satoru would bully him endlessly and there really was no escape to this, was there?

Fuck , fine.

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered. "I'm going to be getting a lecture on how to do a relationship for something that's not even a legitimate relationship, and it's all your fault."

"You can't just blame everything on me , Suguru. That's going to get you nowhere in life."

Well, he technically could, and it might not be helpful, but it probably couldn't be much worse. And it'd make him feel better. So, who was in the right, then? And nobody could stop him once they went far enough along with this, and were married in the same house and Suguru had no fucking out .

"You blamed me for your goggles falling in the bathroom."

"That's ‘cause it was your fault!"

"I'm not even close to the resort you guys practice at," said Suguru, shoving a hand in his pocket as he sat down on the bottom stair.

Satoru snickered. "I'd be dead by now if you had the power to do that shit to me constantly."

Suguru hummed. Satoru wasn't too far off from wrong. Dead might've been a bit of a stretch, but it was entertaining to see his point despite that, and know that it was true the other way around too. He pressed his head against the wall to his side, letting the silence stretch on between them and just enjoy it, knowing it definitely couldn't last for too much longer. Tengen would be looking for Satoru, Suguru's mom would be looking for him.

But he had Satoru himself at the end of the day, who was going to show up covered in snow underneath the heavy fall, ruffled from a long day of practice, and he'd talk with his parents, fitting into place next to Suguru like a puzzle piece.

"I'll see you later," Suguru finally whispered.

"You know it."

Boy, did Suguru know it. He knew the placement of the veins on his inner-wrist, he knew the way he liked his pillows positioned before bed. He knew how his parents liked their soba, he knew how to ski down the hill, he knew the turns around poles so flawlessly. But most importantly he knew Satoru, who was like the other half of the magnet at his side, and he didn't really mind.

It was only then that he realized Satoru had even hung up to get back to practice, and his mom was hovering over him.

See, if you asked Suguru the chances of him dying tonight about half an hour ago, he'd be at a solid thirty percent. That thirty percent was full of random things that could happen. The house accidentally setting on fire, a random earthquake, a plane crashing into the house. Any absurd, unlikely thing that Suguru could think of managed to fit in that tiny thirty percent.

However, if you asked Suguru the chances of him dying tonight right now ? Ninety-nine percent. And that extra one percent was if Satoru made it there in time for Suguru to still have a dying breath in him for Satoru to save.

"So," his mom started, sitting next to him on the stairs. He gave her a weak smile as he set his phone down next to him to the side, and listened as she continued, "you and Satoru have a very… interesting relationship."

Suguru snorted. That was one way to phrase it, that was for sure.

But he stuck with the basics of Safety under Satoru's book for his mom. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

"No," she said, waving a hand around lightly, "of course not. But you should respect him, you know."

Suguru raised an eyebrow at her, smiling softly as her hand rested on his head, combing his hair behind his ear.

"I know how he can be, you guys have been friends for so long, but hold onto this."

He was going to try and hold onto their fucking friendship, that was for sure. He didn't look for the day they had to explain everything to everyone, and figured avoiding it would be the best solution for him until that day came.

But the way his mom looked at him, like she was determined to make him hear her, despite the complete obvious ploy that this was. Because nothing really changed, they treated each other like always. Who's to say if they cuddled more, it wasn't a huge change. They hadn't even gotten the chance to see Satoru's family yet. He knew the texts Satoru exchanged with his parents, claiming it was 'killing him inside' that they hadn't got the 'pleasure' of meeting his 'wonderful partner'. There was also the matter of all the responses containing comments about how amazing 'she' must be if Satoru was the one that went looking for 'her'.

One fucking tragedy after another, Suguru supposed, but that didn't change the fact that he restrained the urge to laugh every single time he saw one of the comments, and reveled in the way Satoru nudged his shoulder.

So he gave his mom one last glance, feeling the small smile creeping up at his lips, because he knew he could be in Satoru's position, combatting the ever-glorified evils of his family's political views, but here she was, sticking through him through the dumbest fucking decision of his life, baring her heart and soul.

"I will," he said, hoping the words sounded as much like the promise he meant, no matter how different the context was. "I will."

//

Phone Call Transcript: January 7th, 2007
Outgoing from: shoko to: geto suguru
Start: 12:47 PM
End: 12:59 PM

IEIRI: You idiot, Satoru’s at my house right now, wanna know why? ‘Cause of you . But he refuses to tell me about it.

GETO: I literally have no idea what you’re talking about.

IEIRI: Liar.

GETO: Seriously, I’m not lying, what is happening?

IEIRI: He’s sitting on my couch rewatching Frozen while he eats straight out of a tub of ice cream.

GETO: Isn’t that against his—

IEIRI: Yes, it doesn’t line up with his diet plan, but apparently he’s convinced Tengen won’t realize the second his cravings start up again. Listen, Suguru. What is happening? Have you ghosted him at all?

GETO: I—

[Silence.]

GETO: Not intentionally.

IEIRI: Fucking asshole .

GETO: No, listen. I accidentally slept through my alarm one of the days we were supposed to watch the kids, and by the time I’d woken up, I felt too shitty to get up and go, but that’s all that happened.

IEIRI: That’s all ?

GETO: Yes.

IEIRI: Fucking, fine. I’ll let you know if I find anything out.

GETO: Thank— [sigh] Thank you, Shoko.

IEIRI: Hey, Suguru.

GETO, whispering : Yeah?

IEIRI: You’ll let me know if you need anything?

GETO: [snorts] Yeah, sure.

[Silence.]

[click]

//

"We have a date!" Satoru exclaimed.

Suguru raised an eyebrow at him from across the couch, where he was resting against Shoko's arm, leaving Satoru stranded on the other side, legs locked with Suguru's.

"No we don't."

"Wh—"

Shoko was shaking from beneath him, and Suguru tilted his head to get a look at her as she shook her head.

"What?" Suguru and Satoru said at the same time.

She started to shake her head again, as if saying 'nevermind', but immediately glanced at both of them and sighed.

"You guys act like an old married couple, sometimes," she admitted.

Suguru and Satoru immediately turned to look at each other. That would explain why so much of the team — Suguru's team, anyway — wasn't surprised by the sudden change in their relationship status.

"What married couples do you know?" Satoru asked, in lieu of a legitimate answer. "You must be in fairy land if you know any married couples that are still happy."

Silence encompassed the room as Suguru raised an eyebrow in his direction, reaching a hand over his shoulder. The remote fell into his hand and he tossed it lightly across the couch, watching as it caught Satoru's shoulder.

Satoru let out an overdramatic groan as he fell back against the arm of the couch, his feet spreading out next to Suguru's waist, pushing him a little closer to the edge. Suguru grappled for Satoru's ankles, Shoko's arm slung around the shoulder that was facing the back of the couch, not being much help.

"Do my parents mean nothing to you?" Suguru exclaimed, ignoring the way his voice shot up towards the end of the sentence as Satoru's legs threatened to push him a little closer to the edge.

"They don't count, they're like, nice." Suguru leveled him with a flat look as he nudged his way back towards his previous position on the couch, ignoring Satoru's complaints as he squished his feet. Satoru pulled his feet back up, frowning as Suguru reached for the headband wrapped twice around his wrist, only to toss it to Satoru. "Did you steal that from me?"

"Technically, you stole it from me first."

"Shut up," said Shoko, looking down at her phone. Suguru peered over his shoulder to see Utahime's contact pulled up. "I'm invested in what's going down with Nanami and Haibara."

Suguru hummed as he skimmed through the texts, ignoring Satoru poking his shin with his fingers.

"What? What's happening, Suguru? Don't leave me in the dark."

Suguru looked back at Satoru, an eyebrow raised. "What was the date you had planned?"

Satoru glared at Suguru, sticking his tongue out. "You don't deserve to know."

"Given that I'm the boyfriend, I really think I do."

"Whatever you tell yourself, babe."

And right then his pillow, his amazing and wonderful headrest, gave out beneath him as Shoko stood up, and he couldn't get his hand back in time to protect the top of his head from hitting the armrest on the couch. The pain wasn't there, but it was amusing to see Shoko's eye roll as he complained, urging her to walk away even faster.

The second she was out of earshot, Suguru turned to glare at Satoru. "Babe? Really?"

Satoru frowned. "I mean we're dating."

Not really. "Babe, though? It's weird."

"Alright, no babe."

"Thank you."

Satoru smiled, reaching for the headband that Suguru tossed him earlier at his side, positioning it so it was pointed at Suguru, like a slingshot.

And for why?

He watched as it weakly aimed for his arm, and fell to the floor next to them.

"Great shot."

"Hey!" Satoru complained, reaching a hand out. Suguru complied and reached to grab it, plopping it in Satoru's hand, fingers brushing his palm in the process. "I actually hit you that time."

Suguru hummed. That was true.

"Tell me about the date you so spectacularly planned."

Satoru smiled as he put the headband on, pushing it back until the bangs fell out from underneath it, completely defeating the purpose of the headband, but wearing it like the person he was.

A great headband put to complete waste .

"It's with my family, the grand dinner."

Suguru's eyes widened.

"You know it."

"I don't want to know it," Suguru groaned, falling back against the arm rest.

The dreaded day was looming upon them. Suguru met Satoru's family, he knew what it was like when they were hiding under sheets at sleepovers. But that wasn't even half of it. This was double that, for their family. This whole Satoru-getting-a-boyfriend thing. It was a whole separate pile of atrocities.

Suguru would never have to bear the half of it on a day-to-day basis, but he got the general gist from light off-handed comments Satoru made here and there, and that alone said enough.

A hand fell on his knee and he opened his eyes to see Satoru smiling down at him.

"We can leave whenever you need."

"Is not going an option?"

Satoru shrugged. "It can be, but they're getting stupidly annoying about this—" Then why did you even tell them you were dating someone? "—so, let's just. Get it over with. I can hibernate in your house for the next millennia."

"Oh yeah," Suguru scoffed, swatting away Satoru's hand from his knee just for Satoru to grab his own hand and pull him upright. "Thanks for telling me about your plans to use my house as a hideout."

"Your parents would be fine with it."

Suguru let out a long sigh, puffing his cheeks out. Satoru was fucking right, because of course he was.

He threw his hands up in surrender, Satoru's fingers still tangled with his, wondering why he even put up this much of a fight in the first place. This whole dinner was the reason they even started it in the first place, and here he was, grasping for whatever slack he could find like it was his lifeline.

The Gojo family was fucking horrifying.

"Alright, alright, let's do it." He looked up out of the corner of his eye to see Shoko walking back in the room with one singular mug of hot chocolate. "Wow."

Satoru flicked his head around to look at her, pouting once he caught onto the cup. "You forgot about us."

"No, I didn't," she said, taking a sip as she squeezed back in between Suguru's back and the armrest. "Get your own."

Satoru scowled, reaching his free hand out for the mug, but failed as Shoko, far away as she could get, leaned just outside of his reach. Suguru finally got a glimpse of the mug she was holding right then, and snickered as he pressed his hand against Satoru's, trying to push him back.

It was the dumb fucking mug that Utahime got her at the zoo, and it had animals spelling out "SUN" and Shoko protected it like it was her child. In a sense, it was, but it was amusing nonetheless.

"It's the mug," he explained to Satoru, rubbing his knuckles against his forehead, the brush of Satoru's fingers a flare against his skin.

" The mug?"

"The mug."

"The mug!"

"Shut up, you two."

Suguru and Satoru shared one of their looks, the look of two assholes who were so determined to make everyone else's poor lives their own living hell, and Shoko knew that look before she even glanced over them, from what Suguru picked on with the way she slapped the top of his head lightly.

That just made Satoru laugh harder, his free hand covering up his lips as if that would save him from Shoko, knowing absolutely nothing would.

"Satoru, I'm going to dump this on you if you don't shut up."

"Roger that!"

//

Phone Call Transcript: January 9th, 2007
Voicemail from: goj-hoe to: shoko!!
Start: 08:47 PM
End: 08:53 PM

GOJO: I am fully aware that you told Suguru about my breakdown at your place, and it has nothing to do with him, despite your very thoughts. Absolutely nothing! I was just having a rough day, that’s all, not to mention that your family always gets the good ice cream that actually doesn’t taste like, y’know, shit. [Sigh.] Maybe. I’ll see you around. I hope practice with Suguru is going well.

//

He stared at the door long enough for it to explode, but it didn't work. The door still stood there, and the house was still standing, obnoxious and violently modern in a way that rejected every other house in the neighborhood. It was so out of place, but he knew the second he saw everyone in it, the rest of the neighborhood wouldn't matter, because the Gojo family was full of such disgusting arrogant assholes, and Suguru wanted to leave already—

The door swung wide open, and there was an unfamiliar shade of dark hair staring him in the face. He recognized him from photos Satoru had shown him, and Suguru was hoping he was still uncorrupted given that he was, like, five, but who knew? Satoru didn't realize gay people even existed until he was nine. Everyone had their own ways of coming about it, maybe he had been introduced far earlier.

His voice was nicer than the family Suguru had already met, though. He had that going for him.

That was the first thing that he picked up on when he said: "Hello! Who are you?"

"Ah—" He winced. Did he announce himself as Satoru's boyfriend? "I'm Geto Suguru." A classic. A safe. No one could get mad at him for announcing his name.

"Oh!" He exclaimed. "You're Satoru's friend!"

He smiled softly and nodded.

"He's not here yet."

Suguru's face fell.

"He'll be here soon, though! Sorry about that."

Suguru smiled again, feeling oddly protective of the tiny child he had just been presented with, when someone stepped up behind the kid and pressed their hand to his shoulder. He recognized the fucking ring before he even looked up at her face.

"Hello, Gojo-san," said Suguru, bowing his head lightly.

"Oh, Suguru!"

Her voice was tilting the world off its axis and Suguru wanted to bury his head in a blender.

"I didn't know you'd be visiting," she admitted. "Here, come on, Yuta." The little kid looked up at her as she pulled him to the side to let Suguru through. When she looked back at Suguru, her eyes were a little tighter, as if trying to put two and two together, but failing horribly. "Satoru is just getting his girlfriend."

Suguru winced.

She picked up on it like the storm detector that she fucking was.

"Is everything alright?" She asked, pushing the kid away and waiting until he ran around the corner until she looked back at Suguru.

Suguru hummed and hoped the strain of his lips wasn't palpable. "I'm doing well, how are you?"

She waved her hand, as if the question was supposed to be flattering. "Oh, you're so kind."

Isn't that basic human—

Nevermind.

"I'm doing pretty well! Hoping my son will get here soon enough, though. You know, we can't start without him."

Suguru looked at the crowd beyond the space in front of him, noting all the members he recognized — not that many — and all the ones he knew to steer clear from based on sheer vibes alone — most of them.

They all seemed completely immune to the sound of the door swinging open, but Suguru heard choirs singing in the back of his mind at the slight idea that Satoru would step through and he wouldn't be all alone, and when he turned around? More unrecognizable faces.

On the bright side, the dessert they were carrying looked good.

"Hello!" Satoru's mom's voice echoed across the entrance hall as she stepped toward them. She motioned towards Suguru, trying to show off another prized possession, and the tie around his neck got ten times tighter. "This is Satoru's friend, Geto Suguru!"

He wanted his name out of her mouth like an unscratched itch on the back of his hand. It was killing him.

The door swung open again, and bright white hair poked through, followed by pitch black sunglasses even though it was already fucking dark out, and the world found peace again.

"There's the boy himself!"

There was Satoru himself, a smile plastered on in a thousand different ways for fifty different people. It was how he navigated these family dinners, Suguru learned early on, and nothing had changed. Literally nothing . Not even the thirty minute late grand entrance to some fancy party at his own house. And every single time, it killed Suguru inside. Just a little bit.

Satoru nodded his head towards his mom and the other people that had just walked into the front, before his eyes landed on Suguru, and everything shifted back into place. The grating on Suguru's ears was no longer as rough, and the sweat on his hands was no longer as adamant.

"Sorry," Satoru mouthed, looking back towards his mom. "I need to talk to Suguru about something, we'll be right back?"

She looked a little taken aback, and Suguru counted that as a win in his book.

"What about the lovely girlfriend we've heard so much about?" She asked, holding her hand out as if to stop him from grabbing Suguru.

Satoru raised his eyebrows, and grabbed Suguru's arm. "You'll see them soon enough!"

Her lips pursed and Suguru felt a yank on his arm as Satoru dragged him up the stairs, nearly stumbling as they clambered to get to Satoru's room as fast as they could.

"I'm sorry," said Suguru, running a hand through his hair to take out the ponytail and flick it against his wrist as Satoru locked the door shut behind him. "Your entire family is here because they think you have a girlfriend?"

When Suguru turned back around, Satoru was staring at him, a smirk tugging at his lips as he shrugged, walking past Suguru and into his room. The mirror sitting in the corner grabbed most of his attention as he looked in it, running his hand through his hair and ruffling it.

"Not exactly," Satoru said, undoing the top button of his shirt.

"What are you doing —"

"Okay, just," Satoru interrupted, looking back at Suguru. "Deep breaths. They're mostly here because of the Olympics next year and whatnot, that's what the main focus is on. It's just that a good number of them also think I have a girlfriend."

"A girlfriend."

Satoru winced.

"Around how many of the people currently in your house would you say is a good number?"

Satoru tilted his head back and forth, genuinely considering the question, and Suguru wanted to ram his head into the wall. "There's going to be at least one person who hasn't heard about it yet."

"Oh! Okay. And how many people are here?"

"Enough."

Suguru glared at him. "Enough for what ?"

Satoru snickered as he walked towards Suguru, holding his hands out to run his fingers through Suguru's hair. And Suguru felt his shoulders fucking sag at the feeling of it. This night was going to kill him, honestly. Satoru would be managing a good load of the disappointment, but Suguru didn't know what was worse. A family pretending to care, but being so bad about it, or a family who just didn't.

"Drama!"

Suguru groaned as he pressed his forehead to Satoru's shoulder. "If I die tonight," Suguru declared, "you're explaining the situation to my parents."

Satoru hummed, relaxing his arms against Suguru's shoulders, fingers flowing through the tangles. "They'll still love me."

They would always love Satoru.

"Now, come on," Satoru whispered. "We have to make ourselves look presentable."

"Well, you just ruined your entire —" Satoru's hands pushed his chin up and started fiddling with Suguru's tie. "— What are you doing?"

When his eyes met Satoru's, Suguru felt a part of his soul leave his body.

"Preparing ourselves."

Suguru was just prepared to speak up, vouch for whatever remaining dignity he had left with the Gojo family, when Satoru tangled their fingers together and started walking straight for his door, slamming it open against the wall like the rest of the world wouldn't fucking hear it.

Of course. Of course.

He was going to take them out into the world with the entire purpose of adjusting their outfits so it looked like they were up to something in particular, and nobody could stop him.

Alright, then. Suguru could manage this.

He followed Satoru down the stairs, back into the foyer, noticing the glances shot towards them as they whispered their way through the crowd, stepping through as quietly as they could despite Satoru's everlasting fame in the family name now. It didn't take very long to find his mom, though, which was unfortunate enough for Suguru.

But it also didn't take long for Satoru's face to light up at the sight of the boy Suguru was talking to earlier.

"Yuta!" He exclaimed, leaving one hand tangled with Suguru's as he knelt down, the boy running up to him, a familiar joy echoing in his face. Satoru snuck an arm  around his legs and hoisted him up, turning them around so Yuta could see Suguru. "Have you met Suguru?"

Yuta nodded, looking nervously at Suguru. "I opened the door for him."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

Suguru tightened his hand around Satoru's, relaxing when he felt Satoru squeeze back.

"He's my boyfriend," Satoru explained, the lie flowing off his tongue like water into a bowl, splashing around until it settled. His mom, watching them from the sink nearby, dropped her glass onto the rug. Everyone nearby started scrambling to help her, but Satoru pretended not to notice as he kept looking between Yuta and Suguru.

Yuta quirked his head to the side, as if expecting a monster to pop out of Suguru, but settled on a smile.

"You guys are together!"

Satoru nodded his head, the plaster smile replaced with his Satoru smile, and Suguru nodded tightly, glancing over at the sink where Satoru's mom was glaring at them. Satoru's hand was tight in his as he followed Suguru's gaze, and Suguru did a recount of everything horrible that could possibly have happened instead. So he found himself grateful he didn't have any shards of glass digging into his skin.

It was still so off-putting how dramatic Satoru's family could be. Certainly he had to get it from somewhere, but this somewhere was all the wrong fucking areas. Unpredictable in the worst ways.

"Ah, I need to help my mom," Satoru said, frowning as he set down Yuta. "Be careful with where you step, okay?" He scanned the room, before his eyes landed on an old man lingering towards the back, not talking to anybody. "There's your grandpa, yeah?" Yuta followed his gaze and nodded. "Go over there."

Suguru watched Yuta scamper off, and admired the smile on his grandpa's face as he pointed over at Satoru and Suguru, his heels slightly off the floor.

And when he turned back to look at Satoru, Satoru was already gazing at him.

"Was he the easiest one?" Suguru asked, averting his gaze to look at everyone else in the room. More pointedly, the crowd hovered around Satoru's mom.

He saw Satoru nod out of the corner of his eye. "His grandpa's chill, so we'll be fine with him. Can't make any more promises from here on out though."

Suguru scoffed. "'Just one family dinner!'" He exclaimed, pitching his voice up as high as he could get it to go, looking back at Satoru as their shoulders bumped into each other. "'Not a big deal!'"

"I do not sound like that—"

"Uh-huh." The smirk spread across Suguru's lips as Satoru leaned in, a pointed glare on his face. "You keep telling yourself that, pretty boy."

Satoru raised an eyebrow, tilting his head down. "Was that a compliment? Tryna make me blush?"

Suguru very notedly ignored that comment as he reached to grab Satoru's sunglasses before they slid back down onto his nose. Satoru's cheeks flared rosy red at the contact, and he scowled, reaching for his sunglasses back. It never failed to amaze Suguru how long his arms were, yet how spectacularly he failed at reaching for things back from Suguru, just their limbs pressed up against each other as he tried.

All good things had to come to a close, though, as Satoru's mom walked up to them, a smile more obvious than Satoru's own plastered on like it was a sin in itself to do such a thing.

So, like any decent human would, Suguru took the opportunity to make it even worse, and looked over at Satoru, leaning in so his mouth was right next to Satoru's ear, and whispered, "Guess I succeeded in making you blush."

Satoru's cheeks burned even brighter as he glanced over at Suguru, his eyebrows narrowing before he turned back to look at his mom.

"Hey, mom!" Satoru said. And just like that, he was a step further away from Suguru. "Uh, remember the girlfriend you guys have been talking about?" He glanced over at Suguru, who shrugged and took a step closer. Rip the band-aid off. "I never exactly specified it was a girl —"

If looks could kill, Satoru would have blown up. Her cheeks were flaming against the white of her hair and the black of her dress.

"If this is one of your sick jokes," she started, her voice attempting to stay at a whisper, but being more like a soft condescending tone than anything, "I am not asking you to stop." Suguru glanced over at Satoru, his cheeks puffed out. "I am telling you to."

Satoru raised an eyebrow at his mom, accepting the challenge as it came.

"Why would I?" He asked, his voice climbing just above her level. She pointed a finger at him. "Oh, act like you're so surprised all you want. You had to know it was bound to happen."

Suguru blinked at that.

What.

The world went a bit back off-axis when he looked back at Satoru's mom and found her unable to say anything else.

Holy shit , how long had Satoru been planning this?

Satoru's hand tightened in Suguru's, and Suguru looked back over, pushing up against Satoru's shoulder with his own.

"Come on," he whispered, trying to get Satoru to turn towards the couches in a far corner, the TV blasting in front of lit faces where everything was less hectic. "Come on, Satoru." Satoru sent him a quick glance, eyes frowning at the corner, and Suguru pushed their hands forward, letting them lead through the hustle of people as they walked away.

One of the loveseats on the side remained empty, and Satoru fell backwards onto it, leaving enough space for Suguru to sit down next to him. Stares were not something to be ashamed of at the Gojo house — at least to the people sending them. To them, it offered a great sense of authority. Suguru didn't know what it offered him, except a million reasons to leave.

But when he looked down at Satoru, adjusting himself so he was pressed up against Suguru's side, scanning the crowd as he looked for someone, Suguru didn't know who, he figured the one reason to stay was enough.

"Who're you looking for?" Suguru asked, trying to follow Satoru's gaze.

Satoru's hair brushed against his ear as he shook his head. "No one in particular."

Through the window, the moon snuck through tangerine skies, the man watching them with each breath. Suguru's gaze shot across to Satoru's mom, and the guy standing next to her.

He felt his breath waft back into his face as he whispered to Satoru softly, "Your dad is here."

Satoru's gaze caught his before they both looked over, seeing the look his parents exchanged. Suguru could hear Satoru suck in his breath as his parents started walking over, before his hand worked its way out of Suguru's, and an arm fell across his shoulders.

He really was going for it, wasn't he?

"We can eat after and then head to your place?" Satoru suggested.

Suguru nodded his head as he turned to look back at Satoru.

"What?"

"What," Suguru repeated.

"You're just—you're looking at me weird."

"What does that mean?"

"Well—"

"Am I not supposed to be your loving and devoted boyfriend?"

Satoru snickered, hitting Suguru's head lightly with his own, and Suguru watched as his eyes flicked to the side, just in time for Suguru's side vision to be blocked with a nice suit.

Shame the face it was wearing was so fucking ugly.

When he looked at Satoru's father head-on, he never really realized the resemblance. Every time someone made a remark about it, Suguru thought of the words he'd hear about being his "father's son" and figuring out where it stemmed from, not realizing they meant it in the way Suguru smiled, or the way his eyes crinkled, like his mom mentioned.

Satoru was so adversely separate from the man that his father was, that it was a mystery to anybody where the sentiment even came from. Sure, they shared the same color eyes, sure they had the same wardrobe, and maybe they walked the same halls, and skied the same hills, but Satoru was so much more than everything that his father was. If Satoru's father was a volcano, lashing out with every sputtering breath, Satoru himself was the Earth beneath their feet, giving them reason to walk on the gravel that paved their walks.

Suguru never liked Satoru's father, even as a kid. After they first started hanging out, he'd made a couple too many remarks about Suguru getting a "new wardrobe" and Suguru never for the life of him found out whether he was intentionally being an asshole about it.

Almost spitting, Satoru's dad said, "Satoru."

"Heya!"

If Suguru wanted to make it to college alive, he had to stop himself from laughing.

"Can we talk?"

"Sure."

Satoru stayed next to Suguru.

His eyes flickered between them, waiting for them to yield, but coming up unforgiven. Suguru basked in it.

"After dinner, then?"

Satoru shrugged as best he could, one arm still pressed against Suguru's shoulders. "Sure."

"Alright. We're eating. It'd be best if you, uh—" His eyes looked over at Suguru, as if waiting for him to dissipate just how the rest of his problems did. "—be quiet."

His steps were as soft as the whispers around them, and Satoru fully relaxed against Suguru, his hand limp against his chest as his cheek pressed to Suguru's shoulder.

Suguru sat there for a while, Satoru a reassuring weight at his side, as people started to filter out, every once in a while a daring soul offering a quick wave or smile in their general direction. The last person stepped out of the room, shooting them one last glance as they disappeared down the hall into the kitchen, and Suguru let out a sigh of relief, reaching up to press his fingers to Satoru's palm.

He soaked in the silence, with Satoru at his side, the way they pressed into place — slotted — before Satoru's palm brushed against his fingers as he pulled his arm back, and stood up, the room suddenly frustratingly chilly, even underneath the button-up.

"How annoying are we gonna be?" Suguru asked, tilting his head to look up at Satoru, already staring down at him. Ever the psychic.

"Eh, on a scale of one to ten, maybe a six?"

Suguru's eyes widened. "That's not a lot."

"I know, but—"

But.

But Satoru still had the Olympics going on for him, and too much of anything could get him kicked off the team before official announcements were even made to the general public, even if it was practical knowledge he'd join anyways. They didn't expect anything different from him.

"Alright," Suguru agreed, pushing himself up, and followed Satoru as they walked into the dining room, hands tucked to their sides, all eyes trained on them.

His eyes trailed the table, though. Suguru let out a deep exhale through his nose as he noticed the two chairs, opposite sides of the table, far enough on either side that there was no escape for either of them from rude family members.

The room wasn't completely quiet, a few people talking to kitchen maids about what to order, or kids chattering loudly over the whispers, unaware of the presented situation, but it all halted as a chair scraped the floor, and Satoru's mom stood up, holding a hand out, gestured in their direction.

"Satoru, everyone. Officially part of the Olympian Alpine Ski Team."

Scattered applause fell throughout the room and Suguru could hear someone whisper "Isn't he only seventeen?" like that wasn't part of the reason the entire family was bragging.

"And," she looked back over at Suguru. Oh, fuck, he gets an introduction too? "His friend Geto Suguru."

Satoru and Suguru glanced at each other at the way she pressed down on the word friend. Not the word itself, that was a normal word. But the way it fell flat onto the table, an anvil to the ocean, was awkward enough.

Suguru pressed his hand to Satoru's back. "I'll talk with you later," he said, walking over to the empty chair closest to him, leaving Satoru stranded on his own. He was careful as he pulled his chair out, watching the people around him, recognizing a couple of them from when he first walked into the house, or the living room, and sat himself down, looking as Satoru introduced himself, grin and all, to the crowd he was presented with on the other end.

The guy on his left turned to him. "You're Satoru's friend?"

Suguru tried his best not to grimace, failing at ignoring the way that everyone was so desperately acting like they knew him personally. "Yes," he said, nodding his head softly. "I met him on the same ski team before he transitioned to the national team."

"Really? So you must be good, too, yeah?"

Suguru hated those questions, he never knew what to do with people that went digging for him to compliment himself. "I'd hope."

"He's something else, though, isn't he?"

Of course Suguru knew all these things, he spent nearly every fucking day with the idiot, and had it in him to not blow Satoru's brains out at every passing second. It was selfish and stupid, but he hated the way the word fake spread throughout the blood of these people like a disease.

"He is," Suguru agreed, eyes flicking over to see Satoru, engaged in conversation with the old man sitting next to him — Yuta's grandfather. He steadied his gaze there for what was supposed to be a fleeting moment, but found Satoru had looked up and met his eyes with a soft smile, eyes crinkling at the corners, attention suddenly detached from everything else.

Suguru didn't know what to do with that.

So he returned it before focusing back on the food on his plate.

And the dinner flew by after that, for that Suguru was eternally thankful, as he and Satoru walked out of the house, snickers swirling into the air around them, hands tangled between them. There was a familiar warmth between them as they climbed into Suguru’s car, and he started backing out, windows drawn open, before the front door slammed open.

“Satoru,” his father yelled, basked in the lighting of the porch lamp above him. Suguru slammed on the breaks, and looked over at Satoru, who had opened his window.

“Damn it, Satoru,” Suguru whispered.

Satoru snickered and tapped Suguru’s shoulder, whispering repeatedly, “Go go go.”

Suguru let go of the break carefully as Satoru’s dad kept seething, hands shaking. It was a wild guess as to whether it was from anger or cold, but he could make an easy one.

He quickly pulled out, watching in the rearview mirror as Satoru’s dad slammed the door behind him, porch light shutting off.

Satoru let out a loud whoop as Suguru drove through the neighborhood, leaving Satoru’s family behind them without another thought about it, just the familiarity of the drive home, and Satoru at his side.

A hand grasped his shoulder, and Suguru smiled softly as he turned onto his street, Satoru’s hand running up and down his arm.

“You,” said Satoru, exhilarated, “are the greatest.”

Suguru smirked. “The greatest?”

“Don’t get too excited about it, asshole.”

He was definitely going to get too excited about it.

“Oh, we should go see the kids. We haven’t seen them in a few days.”

Suguru took his eyes off the road for half a second to stare at Satoru, to watch as he smiled, street lights flying past them, and wondered if in another eternity how this situation would be different.

If it would be Satoru just stepping away, and breaking free, if he was leaving of his own will, not simply because his family was such a massive pile of shit.

Maybe, maybe, if they really were together, this would be a whole other situation.

That was an unwanted thought, okay.

Suguru turned back towards the road, watching everything pass by, seeing Satoru out of the corner of his eye.

“Sure,” said Suguru, relaxing back against his seat, making another turn. “Let’s see them.”

Satoru’s smile was something glorious.

The Fushiguros lived in a more run-down part of town, closer to where Suguru lived, but just as familiar to Satoru as anything else, with how much time they spent there. When they pulled up on the side of the street, Satoru was trying to open the door before he even finished parking, and Suguru had an arm out in front of him so he didn’t kill himself trying to jump out.

But he still managed to squirm his way through before Suguru even unbuckled, and he had to run to catch up to Satoru before he opened the door.

Satoru adored the kids, and Suguru did too, but he saw Satoru admiring them so much more beyond that. Saw how Satoru went out of his way to lend an extra hand with homework, and made sure the days they spent together were as light as possible.

Which still didn’t explain why Satoru didn’t even hesitate before opening the door, and that was when Suguru knew for sure Toji still wasn’t back in town. Tsumiki always left the door unlocked for them, for whatever idiot reason she kept a hold of.

Suguru slipped inside just before the door slammed shut, reaching around in the dark of the apartment for Satoru’s hand, sighing when it grasped his. Kicking off his shoes, Satoru started tugging on his hand to head upstairs to where the kids were — hopefully — sleeping. They started scrambling around the house, Satoru walking straight into the railing of the staircase after making a sharp turn too early, and Suguru had to stifle his laugh using every muscle in his face, even as Satoru let out a quiet whine, his hold on Suguru’s hand tightening.

“You only ever make fun of me,” whispered Satoru.

Suguru shrugged. “You’re easy to make fun of.”

“You don’t say that to your boyfriend.”

Suguru raised his eyebrows at that, prepared to watch Satoru’s face morph into resignation, but when he looked over to where Satoru should be, it was still mostly just dark. Where the moon should be filtering in, there wasn’t anything, just a faint shadow, all the curtains shut tightly closed.

So Toji could bleed his fear of someone looking into the apartment into the kids, but not the ability to remember to lock the goddamn front door?

Suguru sighed, and started leading Satoru around to where the staircase actually started ascending, when the upstairs hall light flickered on.

Both of them looked at each other, and then up at the top, where a four year old Megumi was glaring down at them.

“Hey!” Satoru exclaimed, letting go of Suguru’s hand to walk on up, and offer a fist bump, which the mini-asshole left hanging. “How’re you doing?”

Megumi glared at him. “Sleeping.”

Satoru frowned. “Clearly not.”

Megumi stormed away, back to his and Tsumiki’s bedroom, where she was standing in the doorway, smiling softly. It wasn’t even that late, but Suguru supposed that a four year old was more likely to want to sleep at 9 at night than he and Satoru.

She walked forward as he climbed back into bed, holding her arms out for Suguru. He picked her up carefully, giving Satoru a weak smile as she rested her chin on his shoulder, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Hey,” Satoru whispered. “Tired?”

Tsumiki nodded against Suguru’s shoulder, so soft that Suguru wondered if Satoru even saw it, but whether he did or not, he picked up on it.

“How was your day?”

She didn’t say a thing, didn’t sigh loudly or complain, just tilted her head so it was resting against Suguru’s.

He and Satoru exchanged a glance. There were days, to say the least, where she wouldn’t make it to school on time. Maybe because Megumi was throwing a fit, or because he didn’t want to wake up at all. As familiar as Satoru and Suguru were with these days, it killed a little part of both of them that they couldn’t be there to take care when they did happen.

Some part of them reminisced of their first days of watching the kids, when they were still in their early years of high school, and Megumi was still, what, two? Tsumiki acted too much like an older sister for a toddler, always reaching for Megumi, pushing some of her food to the side if she felt he didn’t get enough.

For the most selfish age, Tsumiki was so much further above what everyone else would expect from a little kid. She learned how to share before she learned how to speak, and Satoru adored her, the way she admired them from the get-go. They had to make sure they could keep that.

Megumi was a different story. They had to fight to win his respect at all. Where Tsumiki was determined to make sure she kept a hold of them, Megumi seemed hellbent on figuring out if they’d chase after him at all. 

So when Suguru walked over to the room, ready to walk in and set Tsumiki back down her bed, Megumi slammed the door shut in front of his face. Tsumiki only let out a quiet groan, turning her head to face the door.

“‘Gumi,” she said, holding her fist out to knock. “Can you let me in?”

Silence, for a couple beats, and the door opened up, Megumi glaring up at them. Satoru cut in front of Suguru, staring down at the kid.

“What’s going on?” he asked. Megumi stayed silent. “Come on.” He held out a hand and watched, waited, as Megumi stared down at it.

Suguru was left in the dark as some strange form of communication passed through them, and Megumi resigned, taking Satoru’s hand and leading him inside the room. It was dark, other than the light from the hallway peeking in and the glow in the dark stars on the ceiling that he and Satoru picked out last year, so that Tsumiki could rest a little easier at night.

When Suguru looked around the room, there was a dent in the wall, not quite clean cut through the plaster, but definitely obvious enough for them to pick up on it, and he immediately looked over at Satoru.

Toji was a strange person, showing up at night, disappearing during the day for weeks at a time, coming back to care for the kids a couple days without even leaving, and then realizing he wasn’t cut out for this. He cared, in his own crazy form, one that Megumi dreaded, one that Tsumiki anticipated with nervous care. And, from what Suguru remembered of his own younger years, that was the worst.

The constant nerves as you watched them waste themselves away, watching as they tried so goddamn hard, trying to reach up for them while they’re in the middle of a vast sea, also trying to get yourself to land.

She wanted him to be a father, she wanted him to try his best, and she tried her best to believe that she was, and it killed Suguru to watch. Even with a dent in the wall, when neither of them weren’t scarred — at least not physically, but when Tsumiki missed a day of school, watching over a nervous Megumi who was so determined to not be curious about a vanishing father — they all worried.

Satoru would joke, he’d make comments about adopting the kids and never looking back, he’d joke about skipping out on college, take Suguru and the kids with him, and leave everything behind them, but some part remained curious. Some part of Suguru wanted to agree, wanted to listen.

Some crazy, ridiculous, abrupt, so goddamn impulsive part of Suguru wanted to go along.

Satoru looked away from Suguru, lips pursed, and plastered on a smile for Megumi.

“Do you want us to stay with you while you guys sleep?” asked Satoru.

Megumi stared up at Satoru for a while, flicking his eyes back every so often, to where Tsumiki was half asleep on Suguru’s shoulder.

This was the same hurdle they’d revisited at least once a month. They kept circling around back to this point, Megumi unsure what to do, but wanting to find faith in someone. Satoru would complain about the kid developing trust issues before he knew how to do long division for ages, until it became obvious that they did want to help.

It took a moment, and Megumi nodded. Barely noticeable, particularly in such dim lighting, but enough for Satoru to immediately reach to pick him up, and carry him to the bed. Megumi always slept closest to the wall, wanting to stay by the window, Tsumiki facing the door. If Satoru and Suguru stayed the night, they’d find a blanket somewhere around the house, and get comfortable on the couch.

When Suguru reached with one hand to slowly pry Tsumiki’s arms off of his back, she blinked, adjusting to her surroundings as she let Suguru carefully set her to the ground, keeping a hold of his hand as she climbed into bed.

Satoru already had Tsumiki’s stuffed bear in hand, ruined, one ear nearly completely torn off, but intact enough for Megumi to reach for it the second she had set it down between them.

Suguru double checked that the blanket was covering both of them carefully, shoulders to toes, and that the window was completely shut, locked, as Satoru wove his hands through Tsumiki’s hair, ridding it of any minor tangles.

“Are you guys gonna stay the night?” Tsumiki mumbled.

Suguru pulled away from the window to glance at Satoru, and shrugged. He didn’t have much to do, outside of schoolwork, the next day.

Satoru smiled, and looked back down at Tsumiki. “We’ll be here when you wake up,”

“Okay,” she said, burying her head further into her pillow. “Thank you.”

Suguru walked over, ruffling Megumi’s hair, noting how the kid did in fact relax a little bit when he did, and then nudged Satoru towards the door, careful to shut it quietly behind them as they walked out.

“Who’s paying for pancakes tomorrow morning?” asked Suguru, brushing his shoulder up against Satoru’s.

“Oh, come on, I always do,” whispered Satoru.

“Yes. And you will again.”

Satoru gave him a look, eyebrows raised, even as a smile tugged at his lips. Suguru reached to grab his hand, letting their fingers brush before it hit him. He was suddenly overcome with the reminder that no , they would not in fact normally do that.

Some twisted part of him still wanted to, and he couldn’t quite land his tongue on why. His queerness not being connected to his affection was something he was comfortable with. Satoru’s physical touch was, as well. So why couldn’t he just—

Relax.

Satoru’s hand grabbed his, twining their fingers together, and Suguru took a deep breath as he was tugged down the stairs, into the living room, just narrowly avoiding running into the wall. His hand was left bare as Satoru broke free when they entered the living room to go grab a blanket, and Suguru walked over to the couch, laying down and looking up at the ceiling.

“Hey,” said Satoru, sitting down, pushing his feet against the arm of the couch, pressing his back against Suguru's arm.

“Hey.”

He took a deep breath, and fell asleep.

Chapter Text

Interview from Mountain Snow by Mei Mei
Episode 3: Upcoming 2008 Winter Olympics [dated January 23, 2007]
Featuring: Kuroi Misato

MEI MEI: So, you're gonna be at the Olympics at the beginning of next year, yeah?

KUROI: Yep! Yeah, that’s so cool.

MEI MEI: That’s awesome, I wish you the best of luck.

KUROI: Oh, thank you. Yeah, thank you.

MEI MEI: You’ve been prepping with the national team, I hear?

KUROI: Yes, yes I have. Uh, mostly with a select few, but it’s really awesome working with everybody, and Tengen’s really helpful. It’s the best.

MEI MEI: And this is your second year, huh? How’s that going for you? 

KUROI: Pretty good. Everyone’s always really nice, and works really well with me. Sometimes my cousin tags along to practice, and everyone is really understanding about it, y’know, it’s nice to have that.

MEI MEI: How was it for you adjusting from a small sideline team to the national team, and being in the Olympics, so fast?

KUROI: It was originally kinda rough, but once you warm up to everyone, it’s nice. There’s a reason you’re there, it’s not for anything particular. Your talent is what makes you special, and these people expect the best from you.

… 

MEI MEI: I know you’ve got a particularly arrogant rookie this year everybody’s excited to hear about.

KUROI: [laugher] Yeah, Gojo’s certainly something, isn’t he?

MEI MEI: Mhm. Or, so I hear.

KUROI: He’s very sweet, though. Don’t tell anyone this, but he always has extra sweets in his bag and acts all frustrated to give them away. He continues to bring them to practice for everyone.

MEI MEI: Aw, that’s sweet. We’ve heard he has a tendency to create some drama?

KUROI: Oh, yeah, he does. If someone says anything, and I mean anything , he calls up his friend from his home team, I’m sure you know him-

MEI MEI: Geto Suguru?

KUROI: Yep, that’s the guy. They have one hell of a bond, I’ll give you that. Anyways, Geto always picks up, sighs, and says, ‘What’s happened now?’

MEI MEI: I didn’t even know they still kept in touch, honestly.

KUROI: Well, I mean Geto’s a very private person, but really nice. I’ve met him a couple times, whenever he comes to pick up Gojo.

MEI MEI: And Gojo just doesn’t really post online at all, does he?

KUROI: [laughter] Never. He’s one hell of a teammate, though.

MEI MEI: Do you think he might push you guys to do better this year? Knowing you got silver in GS your first year, do you think you might hit gold?

KUROI: No clue, though it’d be awesome to, there are other magnificent skiers especially in Austria, and Switzerland this year has a solid team. I think Gojo’s definitely got a bunch of talent going for him, even though a lot of the vets don’t want a rookie one-upping them, but it’s Gojo.

//

“You are batshit insane,” Suguru whispered.

Satoru turned around to glare at him, but kept his hands placed at his side. “We’re not committing a war crime or anything.”

Suguru stared down at the carton of eggs Satoru was carrying, and then over at Haibara and Nanami asleep on the couch. “You are one thousand percent sure about that?”

“Don’t get your hopes up too far.”

“This is brutal . Can I just go back to sleep?”

“No,” Satoru whisper-shouted, but immediately winced and held up a finger, reminding himself to stay quiet. “When I get murdered, I need you to be buried with me.”

Straight-faced, “How romantic.”

“Truly!” Satoru exclaimed.

Suguru groaned, and wondered what the hell Nanami even did for Satoru to want to shove a bunch of eggs in his hood while he was asleep. Which is probably better than just, slamming them against his face or something, but still .

Not that Satoru was ever up to any good, but the last month he seemed far too ecstatic for Suguru’s liking, and he wondered when Satoru might just crash and burn.

“How about we just do it, and then run out of the house?” Suguru suggested. He did not want to be at fault for ruining Shoko’s couch.

“So we’re not gonna own up to our actions?”

Suguru raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, shut the fuck up.”

“You brought yourself into that.”

Satoru smirked, and nudged Suguru’s shoulder with his own.

Suguru swallowed as Satoru stepped forward, intentionally watching where he stepped, avoiding the tile with a red mark over it, the one that always creaked if you hit it in the right spot. This was horrible to watch.

For various reasons, but most importantly, Suguru would be stuck in the middle of Satoru’s antics again, and as much as he enjoyed making Nanami’s life a living hell, because the guy was vastly entertaining when ticked off enough, this was most definitely a step too far in the wrong direction, and if Shoko scolded him, he’d cry.

The full truth, there it was.

Dealing with Satoru’s family was already one hell of a birthday present for the both of them, and here he was, dealing with his best friend in the whole wide world, about to murder him for ruining her couch.

He was definitely thinking about hanging himself.

Before Satoru had even put the last egg in Nanami’s hood, Suguru was walking out of the room, and sliding his shoes on to walk outside of the door.

Less than half an hour later, when they were chilling on the couch in Suguru’s living room, Satoru laying on top of him, his head on Suguru’s chest.

“She’s gonna call us any second,” Suguru said.

Satoru pushed himself up, and looked down at Suguru. “Why are you freaking out so much? I can just pay for a new couch if it pisses her off that much, but we’ll be fine.”

Suguru took a deep breath as Satoru watched him, blue eyes fucking scrutinizing him, and he wanted to be set aflame. 

“Hey.” Satoru’s voice was unbearably soft, and Suguru had to pull his eyes away, to look over at the ceiling, wondering if it could care less. “If you’re really stressed out about it, we can go back and apologize.”

“Well, that’s—” Suguru froze. “I dunno.”

“Really?”

He shrugged, as much as he could.

“Are you okay, Suguru?”

Suguru looked back at Satoru, and wondered briefly if he should just start crying.

Mention offhand that he didn’t want to get out of bed most days.

“Yeah,” he said. “Alright.”

Satoru smiled softly, and pressed a kiss to Suguru’s forehead, soft and gentle. Something that let the butterflies settle for a moment, and then Satoru fell back against Suguru, eliciting a soft ‘oof’ from Suguru.

“You can tell me anything, yeah?”

Yeah, Suguru thought dimly. Doesn’t mean I want to.

And then, Damn me for even thinking that.

He shook his head, and let his mind drift, feeling Satoru’s hand grab his wrist softly, drawing light stars into the inside of his wrist, where he bruised himself the day he forgot his guards for practice.

“Yeah,” Suguru responded, wondering when it might just halt.

//

Transcript from ESPN
[dated February 1, 2007]

“There’s been some rumors about Gojo Satoru’s relationship with his best friend, Shoko Ieiri, and we’ve wondered if it might impact his performance if, say, something were to happen within the next year that he can’t focus on his performance. Of course, he wouldn’t have been a primary member of the team if he couldn’t stay focused, so it’s up to debate. But this is all speculation if the rumors are true. From the times that we have seen in a recent race, though, he seems to be doing better than ever, so let’s just hope it doesn’t ruin him before next year.”

//

Suguru stared at the ceiling.

The stars started to swirl, and his mind started to drift. The clip Satoru sent him last night, laughing his ass off while he listened to it, had been a little confusing, to be generous.

Very. Very. Very generous.

And he didn’t know what to do with that, because all of a sudden he felt like he was in primary school again, and he got along with people, but he didn’t really get along with them. And the exhaustion in his bones made it seem pointless to get out of bed, even though he only had an hour till practice started.

He started a tally, numbers that he repeated to himself every day like a mantra, followed by reasons why.

Number one: Get to see Shoko.

Part of him wanted to cross that off of the list, because some weird ass part of him didn’t want to see Shoko, but she was easier to talk to than Satoru right now, and he just needed a breather to figure out what was happening.

Number two: When he showers, his hair isn’t greasy anymore.

Thank fuck for that.

Number three: Free breakfast if he gets to practice early.

Food sounded nice.

Number four:

He mulled it over for a little bit, waiting for the blank space to have a bright light pop up.

Five reasons, and he would get out of bed. He just needed to find the last two, which seemed. So damn hard today.

Okay. He glanced at the clock.

Number four: It’s his birthday.

Number five: That meant cake.

When he checked his phone, he found that Shoko had sent a brief ‘ make sure u get up’ and then a quick ‘happy bday. we got u cupcakes. gojos stopping by’ .

He stared at the text, and then exited out, switching over to Satoru’s incoherent list of all caps.

I KNOW YOURE UP SUGURU (1:23)
GODDAMNIT RESPOND TO MY TEXTS ASSHOLE (1:26)
youre leaving me on READ? on YOUR BIRTHDAY??? (1:30)

shokos yelling at me now (1:54)
D: (1:55)
i’m sorry for yelling at you (1:59)

spend your birthday how you want (2:06)
hm that sounds obnoxious. i dont mean it that way (2:08)
i’ll see you later (2:10)

<3 (2:23)

At the time that Satoru’s endless texting started, Suguru was already well asleep on the couch downstairs, too tired to get himself to move to his bedroom.

When his mom nudged him awake, around three in the morning, he moved up to his bedroom and fell back asleep. It was, unfortunately, an endless cycle that he found himself too tired to get out of, unless he had a spare day, when he was energized and ready to complete whatever the world threw at him.

He glanced up at the clock. 

6:48.

He sighed and pushed himself up out of bed.

Number one: get to see Shoko.

Suguru pulled his boot off, sliding on his worn Vans as Shoko sat down next to him.

“So,” she said.

“So,” he repeated, straightening himself up as he looked over at Shoko. “What’s up?”

She stared at him for a couple seconds, an amused look on her face, one eyebrow raised, a cigarette dangling between her lips.

“What’s up is that Gojo was calling me at two in the morning asking if I knew where you were.”

“I was asleep,” Suguru responded, focusing back on his boots and sliding them into his back. “Like a baby. Ask my mom, she had to drag me off the couch.”

Then the gloves and helmet, the resort pass.

He zipped up the bag, and looked back over at Shoko, his eyelids doing everything in their power to droop shut against his will. She was still fucking staring at him, trying to get him to just spill everything, and part of him just wanted to.

She nudged his shoulder with hers, and they slumped into each other, Suguru letting out a loud groan as he pressed his head against her shoulder.

“Did you see that ESPN interview?” he asked, fidgeting with his fingernails, pulling at the skin. “Where they were talking about the speculations with you two?”

Shoko snickered, and Suguru pulled away from her.

“What? What’s so funny, are you guys keeping something from me?”

She shook her head. “No, I think this is more just you.”

He frowned. “Me and Satoru?”

“No, no, just you.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“I’m not telling you, man.”

Suguru glared at her, doing his best to let it show beyond the fact that his eyes were definitely two seconds away from shutting and never opening again.

“You are useless,” he muttered, pushing himself up from off the seat, waiting for her to follow suit before he took off for the door, bag slung over his shoulder. “You and Satoru are the same breed of, just—”

Silence, and Shoko hummed as he pushed open the door, following him across the snow. He looked down at her feet and admired the dedication to refusing to take proper boots to the hill, wearing a fluffy pair of bright pink slippers, with the most obnoxious pair of cat socks.

When she followed him to his car, she tossed her stuff in the back and hopped into the passenger seat while Suguru rummaged through his pockets for his keys.

He was halfway through zipping up his ski bag again, making sure he didn’t leave them in there, when he looked up and saw Shoko holding them. She was looking at a picture that was hooked on — something Satoru had printed out and laminated, put a hole punch in the corner, and put on the keychain against Suguru’s wishes.

“Cute,” she said as Suguru climbed into the driver’s seat and stole it from her to start up the car.

He rolled his eyes.

Suguru didn’t have to look at the photo.

He knew what it was.

He knew it the same way he memorized the drive to Satoru’s house before he even got his hands on the steering wheel.

He knew it the same way the curves of Satoru’s hands had been ingrained into his brain, and the details were so prominent, if he willed it enough, he could feel Satoru’s hand on his shoulder, fingers digging promises into his skin, tangled with his.

A kiss to his forehead, an arm around his waist, head tucked against his.

A breath between them when Satoru suggested “practicing kissing” because the families would be suspicious if they didn’t. Brief awkward smiles when Suguru shook his head.

It was overwhelming, and damn him for that, because it was such an overwhelming sense of relaxation, and he suddenly remembered why he would get out of bed in the morning.

The photo was taken after a long race a couple years back, the year before Satoru left to join the national team. Suguru had gotten first place, and he was ecstatic, and it was snowing, and he was burning so fucking bright, Satoru right alongside him.

The photo was this:

Satoru’s arm slung around his shoulder, palm pressed flat against Suguru’s breast, beanie with an obnoxious orange pom-pom sewn on top, lips pressed to Suguru’s cheek in a regular display of affection. Suguru had his arm wrapped tight around Satoru’s waist, the other hand holding the medal, astonished by how well he’d done.

“Shoko,” he whispered. He gradually pressed on the break as they came up to a stop sign, and when the car fully stopped, he turned to look at her.

She took a bite from her sandwich and slowly chewed, finishing swallowing before turning to look at him. “What?”

“It’s not real.”

Shoko raised an eyebrow. “What’s not real?” He stayed dead silent for a second. “Is this a philosophical breakdown, because I’m not cut-out for this right now.”

“No— no it’s not a philosophical breakdown.” Though he was considerably close to one. “It’s— me and Satoru.”

She squinted, staring down at her sandwich. “You and Satoru aren’t real.”

He let out a long sigh as he looked up at the roof of the car. “Yeah.”

“What the fuck does that even mean?”

He glanced over at her as she checked her mirror to make sure no cars were coming up behind them. Coast seemed to be clear, because she wasn’t complaining. Yet.

“It means,” said Suguru, “that we aren’t actually dating.”

“Oh.” She stayed silent for a second. “So it’s a ploy?”

“What? Yeah, I thought Satoru already asked you.”

She shut her mouth and snickered.

“What?”

“No, right, sorry. Okay. Is this bad?”

Suguru’s throat caught as he let out a high groan, his whining resembling what was that of a dying cat.

This whole situation was a great many things, including bad, including great, including his mind cracking at the seems, and at the start it seemed funny, and a chance to get back at Satoru’s family, but now people were speculating on his relationship status, and if they got out, he could be kicked from the Olympics—

He made a left turn, pulling out of the resort, knuckles white against the steering wheel as Shoko finished her sandwich.

“Hm.” He glanced over at her briefly. “Slow down, you’re going 20 over the limit.”

He let his foot off the gas, just slightly, but enough for him to finally take a deep breath and slow down.

The car was silent for the rest of the ride, and when they pulled into Suguru’s driveway, he recognized the car on the other side of the street.

“You’re shitting me,” he whispered.

Shoko snorted. “Did you really think he’d miss out on your birthday?”

“I—” No.

When they walked in the house, Suguru was bombarded by balloons and multi-colored confetti, the excitement the crew was trying to generate falling around him in the thin strips of paper, onto his shoulders, trying to bury into his skin. He watched as everyone cheered when he set down his bag, and looked for a particular face, one that he couldn’t pick out, even when Haibara gave him a large hug and pointed to a small pile of presents in the corner.

The lighting was dim, and his parents smiled as they watched him interact, even when he wouldn’t mind being alone, even with just Shoko. Maybe stealing a cigarette and taking a deep breath as the world around him melted, dripping from his veins for a little bit.

It wasn’t until Nanami offered a stern head nod that he got any sign of Satoru. It wasn’t by the white of his hair, or the caress of a hand.

No, it was the feeling of frosting to his face, cutting off any form of breathing, and Suguru just barely shutting his eyes in time.

When the plate fell from his face and he was nothing but a Reddi-Whip mess, Suguru opened his eyes to see Satoru snickering in front of him.

“Happy birthday!”

Suguru stayed silent for a minute as Satoru put the plate off to the side, smiling and giving Haibara a quick fist bump, whispering something to him that left shoulders shaking, a hand over his mouth as he tried to muffle laughter, and Nanami watched with a faint smile on his lips that Suguru found himself mimicking.

Satoru caught his eye again, and Suguru grabbed his wrist, yanking him forward as people were scattered around, a moment where the focus wasn’t on him. Arms wrapped around Satoru’s waist, face buried in the crook of his neck, he found a breath. A deep quick breath, as Satoru’s arms crawled around his neck and stayed there, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek.

“Your hair is wet.”

“That’s what happens when it snows,” Suguru whispered.

A moment.

“You’re getting frosting everywhere,” Satoru responded, words just as airy, holding them in place for a second.

Suguru hummed. “That’s your fault.”

Satoru’s laugh echoed around the room, and Suguru’s mind tripped.

It tripped and fell, hands scrambling, reaching out.

//

A leaked conversation between an interviewer and Ieiri Shoko about her refusal to join the national team.
[dated March 12th, 2007]

“Can I get a comment from you about your relationship with Gojo Satoru?”

“No.”

//

It took him a month to realize that Satoru was the one who caught him.

Soft hands, nudging him awake when he didn’t want to get out of bed.

A murmur, a promise, that there was something at the end of the tunnel when the world seemed to shut him out, a side cave that he was trapped in.

Satoru’s words were airy and bright when they went out to play in the snow, resembling a child.

Suguru wondered, in brief moments, when the world ceased to ruin, if Satoru enjoyed those moments just the same.

If the relaxation of breathing the same way a kid did — the excitement of a frozen breath shattering in front of you — stemmed from the inability to be free anywhere else but with each other.

When snow fell around them, Satoru staring up at the sky above them, sprayed with stars, pulsing bright, Suguru felt his pulse echo, a stutter in his breath visible when the cloud in front of him formed, paused, and continued briefly.

He enjoyed this, Satoru at his side, shoulders touching, a blanket over them on Satoru’s roof. His parents were storming around somewhere beneath them, fuming at Satoru’s exclamation that he might just damn the Olympics if it meant staying with Suguru. Something that was clearly a proclamation made to spite them, but it made Suguru’s heart fall beneath them. Down through the basement, to the core of the Earth where it would burn, tissue being split apart, boiling down to the blood in his veins, splitting off into the ground.

Satoru’s eyes met his, and Suguru was lost, watching the way a large snowflake landed on his cheek, and melted, dropping down to his nose, and Satoru smirked. Suguru reached a hand over to wipe it away, thumb carefully grazing the chilly skin, cheeks gone bright red.

There was no promise that it was from the snow, the chilly weather around them.

Suguru stuttered on that thought, hand frozen above Satoru’s cheek.

“What’s on your mind?” Satoru asked, voice quiet.

Mouth shut, Suguru kept watching him.

He almost opened up.

Almost told the truth.

You.

His mouth opened, weaving together a pathetic lie. “Tomorrow’s your last practice of the season.”

“That’s it?”

“No.”

Satoru picked up on it. Suguru not wanting to add on. Which, thank fuck, but the way the world fell around them, the sky shying away as the moon rose, and shined down onto Satoru—

It was so much.

So much.

Fuck, he was beautiful.

Satoru looked back up at the sky, a faint smile on his face, and Suguru blinked.

Oh.

Suguru’s breath caught, and he looked back up at the sky too quickly, accidentally catching a crook in his neck that was stuck there for a couple days.

“Fuck,” he murmured, reaching for it as he pushed himself up, straightening his back.

Satoru joined him. “What? What’s up?”

He looked over at Satoru, and bit his lip. So that’s what that was, huh? The entirety of that mess, that breakdown driving Shoko home. Wondering why this was even an option for him, why he ever said yes.

“Who knows, maybe I actually enjoy spending time with you.”

(Much much more than he thought.)

“I should probably head home,” he said. Pushing himself up slowly, he ignored as Satoru reached for his hand, instead pulling it up to open the window to Satoru’s bedroom. His hand twitched in the cold and he fumbled with the latch before Satoru finally reached over and opened it for him. His breath was bouncing on Suguru’s cheek, his hair tickling his ear, and Suguru closed his eyes.

One deep breath.

Two.

Three.

“What the hell is up with you?” Satoru asked.

Suguru shook his head. “Not feeling great.”

“Is that it?”

Suguru stared at the open window for a second, glancing back at Satoru, and then finally letting go of his nerves to climb through.

Steps, quiet steps, ignoring the pestering of Satoru’s parents in the kitchen, and they reconvened at the bottom, Suguru taking a deep breath before he waved goodbye.

When he was about to reach for the door, his hand wrapped around the handle, a palm on his shoulder. He stilled, waiting for it to be a slap to the head from Satoru’s mom, or an uncomforting squeeze from his dad.

But it dragged down his chest, dangling, and the other arm wrapped around his waist, pulling him back. Satoru. He settled, relaxing against Satoru’s chest, covering Satoru’s hands with his own.

This is just to piss off his parents , he reminded himself. This is not for them.

Suguru ached.

He carefully pulled away, Satoru keeping a hand on his elbow until he opened the door and stepped out, giving one last wave.

It wasn’t until he was fully settled in his car, pressing the heel of his palms against his eyes, that he realized Satoru’s parents weren’t actually in the entryway watching them.

The only words not exchanged were between him and Satoru. The only touches were just them. No one else saw it, not the worlds above them, not the secrets buried underneath his feet, compressed with every step he made.

It was just them.

Suguru retraced the memory, Satoru’s hand across his waist, the feeling of his cheek pressed against Satoru’s, chilly and warm rolled into one person.

Satoru’s hand twitching, a thumb brushing against his jaw.

Nope.

He opened his eyes, and looked up at Satoru’s window just in time to see the light turn off.

One deep breath.

Suguru backed out, and drove home.

//

[dated March 15, 2007]

YAGA: Congratulations to such a wonderful team, especially Ieiri Shoko and Geto Suguru, who were not only some very helpful coaches this year, but both got first in their sections. Our last practice will be March twenty first. There’ll be free food, so I expect to see you all there.

//

“Get. Up.”

A nudge at his shoulder, and Suguru groaned, rolling around to face the other way.

The pillow slipped out from under his head, and he reached behind himself to grab it, but just grasped empty air.

His arm fell back to the bed, and he settled there. He could sleep without a pillow, that was fine.

“You fucking—” Thump.

Suguru put an arm over his eyes, doing his best to block himself from another hit via pillow, but the second time it just landed square on his chest.

“Get out of bed .”

He reached to his feet for a blanket. He grabbed one, but it was too thin, he couldn’t get comfortable with it. He draped it over his legs, and wrapped his arms around his waist.

That wasn’t enough, though. Another hit to his head.

There was silence for two seconds, other than the faint breathing of Shoko standing behind him, pillow in hands.

Something scraped behind him, probably from his night stand.

“Geto, I’m giving you two seconds.”

He counted to himself.

One.

Deep breath.

Two.

Deep breath.

Something cold poured onto his face, and he immediately shot up, sputtering out the water that was probably something about a week old.

“Really, Shoko?”

She scoffed.

“What the hell is your problem?”

“ My problem? I’m not the one who dropped off the face of the earth for two weeks.”

“I didn’t—”

“It’s the last day of practice, asshole. You haven’t been there since our last race.”

Suguru shook his head. “I’m fine.”

“You’re fine.”

He looked over at her, pushing his soaking hair back with one shaking hand, watching the way her knuckles went white around the cup.

“You ignore Gojo for two weeks, and you’re fine .”

“Don’t press me, asshole.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

The air around them settled, Suguru took a deep breath, and watched as she set the cup down.

“I need a smoke,” she whispered.

“I’ll go with you,” he said, pushing himself out of bed.

“No,” she said. “No you won’t.”

Suguru slowly swung his legs over the side of his bed. “Why not?”

“Because your room smells horrible. Shower and then come on down. Maybe you’ll get one.”

He glared at her, but slowly pushed himself out of the bed, standing carefully, regaining his footing.

“I’ll throw all your clothes in the wash.”

Suguru stopped halfway to the door, and turned to give her a grateful smile. Something tired and weak, a beg for forgiveness, the world fading from his shoulders with every step he took.

He grabbed a couple washed clothes that his mom cleared last week off his desk, and walked to the bathroom.

Warm water on his back.

The chilly air when he stepped out.

Rough towel brushing against his back.

Wet hair soaking his shirt.

Shoko standing in front of him, the floor of his bedroom completely clean.

“How do you feel?”

“Better.”

“See?”

A groan.

“Come on, idiot. Gojo’s waiting for us.”

Freezing mid-step, “He’s there?”

“Why wouldn’t he be? Spent the last few practices with us. Not that you were there to see him.”

“Right.”

“Let’s go.”

There was one prominent problem with this. One very important problem with this. Very epic, incredibly insane problem with this.

He hadn’t seen Satoru since that night under the stars.

When he realized that this fake dating to him seemed a little more real at certain parts, and wished it would stay that way.

Suguru was determined to avoid him, even if it meant his parents asking why they hadn’t seen Satoru in a few weeks, and Suguru wouldn’t get out of bed.

(Conversations that went something like:

“Did you guys break up?”

“No.”

“Well, what happened?”

“Nothing.”

(Everything.))

“Okay.”

Shoko didn’t move from her spot until Suguru walked out of the room.

When they got there, Suguru having put his hair up in a bun on the drive over, everyone was talking. A loud screech was let out from somewhere, and Suguru watched as Haibara just barely dodged a stick being thrown at him.

Shoko handed him a cigarette, and he stilled as she brought the lighter up to the end. One deep breath, and he pulled it from his lips.

“Why do you think you’re allowed to disappear after two weeks, not only taking free food, but smoking?”

Suguru turned around, a smirk on his face as he came face to face with Yaga.

“It’s some pretty good free food,” he argued. “Did I not win you a race?”

Yaga let out a deep sigh, probably glaring at Suguru from under his sunglasses. He took a couple steps backwards, going off to join the other coaches, leaving Suguru to his own as Shoko disappeared to talk to Utahime.

Damn, he felt a little bit more shallow with every breath he took. He shuddered further into his hoodie as a breeze picked up, and took another deep breath, holding the cigarette to his lips.

There was a brief moment of silence, when he shut out the rest of the world.

A very very brief moment, because there was a tap on his shoulder, and then, “I thought you quit.”

Suguru startled and turned around.

Satoru.

Shit.

“Hi.” A small whisper just barely managing to escape, and Satoru just glared at him.

“You’re an asshole.”

“I know.”

Satoru took a deep breath and smiled.

Suguru relaxed.

He held out a hand, and Satoru grabbed it, squeezing it tight before twining their fingers together.

“What the hell happened?”

Suguru shook his head.

“Really?”

He shrugged. There wasn’t much he was willing to tell Satoru, even if it meant watching as Satoru fought with his parents over something that wasn’t even real.

Even if he would stay in this standstill, faintly admiring a life that could never be.

“You’re crazy,” Suguru whispered.

“What did I do?”

Everything.

Dared Suguru to pretend to date him. Drove him to school for a month in return, but then never stopped. Smiled like the world was on fire, and he was the flame. Held things so gingerly, because there was a faint worry calloused hands would mean destruction. Watched over the kids whenever getting out of bed felt like a crime.

Made Suguru fall in love with him, and didn’t even think to return the notion.

Instead, it all came out as, “Exist.”

“Oh,” said Satoru. “Well, as you know, that’s what I know how to do best.”

He took a step closer to Suguru, and pressed his forehead to Suguru’s shoulder, dropping his hands to wrap his arms around Suguru’s waist.

“I miss you.”

Suguru’s arms stopped briefly as they rose to drape over Satoru’s shoulders. To keep him in place.

Miss. Definition: Longing, but unable to reach you.

He let the cigarette dangle from his finger tips as he hugged Satoru tighter.

“I miss you too.”

In so many more ways.

The world was on fire, and Satoru was the cause.

Flames kissing his skin, each burn as relaxing as the last.

Marks left behind, soft and ginger, that Suguru held onto like a bruise.

Dumping water on it was damning.

Heat goes up, and so does the soul.

He closed his eyes, tilting his head so his face was buried in Satoru’s neck, taking one long deep breath.

“You smell cold,” he whispered.

Satoru snickered. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

“No, it does.”

Suguru let go when he felt Satoru’s hands start to fall, and took a step back.

“Why didn’t you stop by my house?”

“I didn’t know if you wanted me to.”

He bit his bottom lip, before lifting the cigarette up to his lips.

A moment of silence as he inhaled. “That’s never stopped you before.”

“I dunno. Just got a lot on my mind.”

Suguru frowned. “Since when did you start thinking?”

“Just recently, actually.”

“Yeah, how’s it treating you?”

“Great!”

“Really?”

“No. Take me back.”

Satoru smiled, dropping a hand to Suguru’s, like it was nothing, like it was a matter of just casualness and not the world around them watching them.

Suguru took his hand, like it was nothing, when every fiber of his being was screaming, yelling, for him to just—

Kiss Satoru.

“I’m glad Shoko dragged you out of bed.”

“Yeah?”

Satoru pointed over to the grill, where two kids where huddling, shoulder to shoulder, hands hovering over the flame. “I brought the kids.”

Suguru looked back over at Satoru, eyes wide, distantly remembering Tsumiki crying because he didn’t want to get out of bed a year ago, wondering how they’d feel seeing him after he vanished off the face of the planet for another few weeks.

But Satoru picked up on it, and tugged his hand. “They miss you.” Suguru looked back over. “Throw out that damn cigarette, no smoking by the kids.”

“They’re literally inhaling fire right now,” Suguru argued, but tossed it to the floor, and stomped it out.

A weak smile, and Suguru let go of Satoru’s hand to start walking over, watching Megumi’s eyes widen when he realized that Suguru was, in fact, here.

“Hi,” he said, crouching down so he was at their level. Tsumiki spun around.

“You’re here!” she exclaimed, jumping forward the second he held his arms out. “Were you tired?”

Suguru smiled. “Just a bit.”

Megumi came out from behind Tsumiki, lips pursed. “That’s a long time to be tired.”

He watched as Megumi took a cautious step forward, before holding out a hand, waiting carefully as Megumi stared at it for a while.

Suguru could hear Tsumiki’s breathing in his ear as she pressed her ear to the top of his head, both of them watching Megumi carefully.

It took a second, but Megumi took his hand, and stepped forward.

“Thank you,” he said.

Suguru didn’t know for what — didn’t know what he did to deserve that — but he acknowledged it with a soft smile.

“Gojo was being annoying.”

Oh, that explained it.

“He was!” Tsumiki said, pulling back from Suguru, still within arms reach. “He came to watch us, and was all mopey.”

“Mopey?”

“Shoko taught us a new word when she was complaining about him being all mopey.”

“How was he being mopey?”

“He came to watch us but he just— he wasn’t as happy, I dunno.”

Megumi frowned, and said, “He doesn’t smile as much when you’re not around. It’s weird.”

“Well.” Tsumiki sighed. “They just started dating, so it makes sense.”

“They started?”

Suguru snickered, watching as Megumi’s brows furrowed together.

“I thought you always were like that.”

Suguru shook his head. “No, it’s— well, it’s not that recent, but I guess Satoru just told you a little bit ago.”

Tsumiki shrugged. “I wasn’t that surprised. Gojo always made lovey dovey eyes at you.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Oh, did he?” Tsumiki nodded eagerly. “What about me?”

She frowned, thinking. “It took you longer, but it was very sudden.”

“Ah.”

Suguru didn’t know what to say to that, and wanted to think much less about the fact that if these literal children who didn’t even know multiplication yet knew that he was completely enamored by Satoru. Even before he did.

What the hell was that comment about Satoru then, him always making “lovey dovey eyes” at Suguru? That felt unnecessary to add in.

He let out a long sigh, ruffling Tsumiki’s hair as he stood up, legs aching from crouching for a while.

“Are you gonna be back to babysit us?” Megumi asked.

“Yeah, yeah, of course.”

“For how long?”

Suguru let out a long sigh. The question was fair enough, but that sense that he failed Megumi not for the first time, but the first that he remembered, was demotivating enough. He couldn’t make any promises.

“No clue.”

Megumi looked down at his feet.

“But I’ll always come back.”

Silence.

“Okay?”

Megumi took a deep breath and looked at Suguru head on. “Okay.”

Tsumiki smiled. “You guys are babysitting us after this!”

“So I’ve heard.”

He did not.

Suguru would make it work.

For the kids, he’d always make it work.

Megumi grumbled something that Suguru didn’t quite catch, and Tsumiki walked back over to the grill, putting her hands over it, watching as Megumi followed suit.

When Suguru walked back over to Satoru, he was talking to Yaga about something, but eagerly waved Suguru over, grabbing his arm and giving him a brief kiss on the cheek.

“How’re you doing?” Satoru asked, resting his arm on Suguru’s shoulder, pinky rubbing his cheek.

“Alright. You?”

“Pretty good. Just, uh, talking to Yaga about next season.”

Suguru winced. “That’s gonna be rough.”

For reasons other than relationship, but that included.

When he looked up at Yaga, the asshole was staring at them, clearly nervous about something — them, their relationship — but not really eager to say so. The guy needed to know that he wasn’t exactly subtle with particular facial expressions.

“What is it?” Suguru asked, nodding towards Yaga.

“Nothing,” Yaga said, shaking his head.

Satoru let out a frustrated sigh. “You looked fuckin’ scared, might as well say something.”

Yaga raised his eyebrows, clearly amused by Satoru’s response. “I could not give less of a shit about your relationship.”

“Really?”

“But Tengen might.”

“Why—” And then Satoru froze.

It finally clicked for him.

After how many months, it finally clicked for him.

Suguru wondered, wondered dangerously.

Had Satoru just not taken any of this into consideration when he first asked Suguru out? When he was talking about the plans with his family, and how he was so excited to finally get back at them for — whatever it was.

How could the smartest person Suguru knew remain so close-minded that this wasn’t even on his radar?

Satoru’s lips pursed, and he took his arm off of Suguru’s shoulder.

Suguru’s heart slipped, straight into his hands.

Fuck.

“I’m not—” Yaga readjusted his sunglasses. “Just be careful, okay? You wouldn’t want people finding out the wrong way.”

“Yeah, fair enough.” Satoru’s voice was strained at the attempt to remain lax.

He could hear the crack at the end of the sentence.

When Yaga stepped away, Satoru smiled, eyes a little watery.

“Satoru—”

“Why don’t you get some food and we’ll head home, watch the kids?”

Suguru wanted to scream.

Wanted to march, exclaim that even though he’s been feeling like shit, this was his last year with a normal team, and he wouldn’t be just ‘fine’ after this, and he’d need a life.

That they should spend today together and not fucking stressed out over whether Satoru’s entire future would be slipped up by a stupid dare that he didn’t think carefully enough through.

Instead, “Okay.”

Satoru nodded, and looked the other way, down at the ground where Suguru had dropped his cigarette earlier, flames extinguished, only the ashes circling around it any proof of the fire that once burned.

Fuck.

//

Freeskier Magazine:
May 2nd, 2007

Though the end of the season has long passed, our last snowfall April 5th this year — a fairly long winter — we’re already looking forward to next year. As teams continue dryland practice, keeping prepared for the following year, with the Olympics coming up at the end of February next year, there’s a certain anxiety roaming the air.

So, we’ve managed to snag an interview with Gojo Satoru and Ieiri Shoko. For those of you who aren’t aware, these are two seventeen year olds, turning eighteen in December and November respectively, who have flown the mountains since they were kids, and are known for their top racing times, not only in the country, but throughout the world. While Ieiri remains on her own team back home, unwilling to join any national team, it’s been known that she and Gojo still practice together fairly often, and we might just learn some of their secrets.

Sign up to learn more!

//

Shoko glared at Suguru as he frosted the cupcakes.

Fully glared at him, completely unprompted. He hadn’t done anything to piss her off, not really.

Well, unless she was mad about the fact that he was on his twelfth batch of cupcakes and didn’t have it in him to stop.

But cupcakes aren’t bad — it’s just either bake copious amounts of random food, or not get out of bed.

Suguru had his preferences, but he was starting to question Shoko’s.

“You need a new summer hobby,” she noted.

“Baking is a great summer hobby.”

She stared at him as he stabbed the piping bag straight through a cupcake, and red icing started oozing out of the sides.

“You murdered the cupcake.”

Suguru groaned.

“How the hell did you successfully make a cupcake a victim of a murder scene?”

He shook his head. “I’m just making some for the kids. I think Tsumiki might just be happy to even get any.”

“Yeah, fair enough.”

Suguru iced another one — carefully, this time — and watched as a little flower shape started to form, grabbing the piping bag of green icing from Shoko, carefully making smaller leaves on the edges.

He handed it back, and reached for the red again.

“So,” he said, “how’s Utahime doing?”

“Oh, shut up.”

Suguru smirked. “I didn’t even say anything incriminating!”

“So how did you know that’s what it was?”

He looked over at her, just in time to see her cheeks flare up. “She’s fine.”

Suguru focused back on the cupcakes. “That’s nice. You guys hanging out at all?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Yesterday, we went to get coffee together, and today we’re gonna go see a movie while you watch the kids.”

“That’s awesome.”

Shoko didn’t respond, the room falling silent as he finished up the last cupcake, carefully constructing the petals.

“Why don’t you run a bakery?” Shoko asked.

Suguru hummed. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you mentioned not wanting to ski with Satoru, in the Olympics and shit.”

“Teacher, yes. Professional skier, no.”

Shoko shrugged. “If you ever wanna work with my uncle, there’s a spot open at his bakery.”

Suguru pointed the piping bag at her. “He was the one who taught me. I doubt he could teach me much more.”

Rolling her eyes, “I said to work there, not to get a tutor. He misses you.”

He set the piping bag back on the counter. “Maybe.”

“That’s something.”

Suguru needed a job, something to keep him occupied, so it’d probably be beneficial either way. It was just a matter of whether he’d be able to keep up with Suguru’s moods.

“I’m gonna head out now.” Suguru looked up at Shoko and offered a small smile as she walked out of the door, keys in hand.

When he finished up the cookies, all of them carefully placed in a box, he sent Satoru a quick text that he would be heading over to see the kids.

Just a brief thumbs up in response.

Ever since that last practice towards the end of March, when everything seemed to finally catch up to Satoru, worlds whirling around in his mind, he had been a little more distant. A little less eager to let go of his entire goddamn future.

Still refusing to separate with Suguru. It was a strange mix of emotions that didn’t quite set right before being thrown into the oven, though that must have been expected when raised around the Gojo family.

So he’d still get a hug, he’d still have soft smiles and a hand wrapping around his at any point of the day, but there was a thin layer of air where the skin should touch, a silence where exclamations should be filled.

When Suguru pulled into the driveway, he carefully checked on the cupcakes — all fine, still, for the most part, have all the frosting on them — and stepped out of the car, wincing at the warm weather.

Even before he stepped up to the door, it was swung open, and Tsumiki came flying out, wrapping her arms around his waist.

“You’re here early! Toji just left.”

He smiled as he ruffled her hair. “Yeah, I made you guys some cupcakes.”

She turned her head to look at the basket he was carrying. “Really?” She looked up at him and smiled, letting go of his waist so that he could walk inside. “What time is Gojo coming?”

“Should be in less than half an hour.”

Megumi stepped in the entryway of the door. “Did you guys break up?”

Suguru froze midstep. “Why would you think that?”

A shrug, “I dunno, he’s just always here with you. And he’s less touchy now.”

“Ah,” Suguru said. “Well, he’s not allowed to be open about his relationships, that’s all.”

“Why not?” Megumi asked. “Yaga was.”

Suguru let out a sigh as Tsumiki tugged on the hem of his shirt, a warning, almost. He looked down at her, a sad smile on his lips. She knew well enough, apparently.

“Is it the same reason that dad doesn’t like you?”

Tsumiki jerked to look over at Megumi, very clearly glaring at him. Something unsettling on her face, truth be told.

“What? It’s true.” He looked back over at Suguru. “He says you are disgraced.” The word tumbled off his tongue, something new he hadn’t tried out yet.

Suguru pursed his lips. “Well,” he started, ignoring the next tug on his shirt, “What do you think?”

Megumi stared at Suguru for another second, like he was figuring out what to say. Moment of truth, he supposed. And while Suguru knew that Megumi wasn’t one to be so prejudiced, there was a special kind of talent that dad’s had, one that led their sons to spend the first few years of their short short lives to believe every goddamn word.

A six-year old Satoru, on the wrong end of the leash, taking his father’s every word like it was an excerpt from his prophecy, not thinking about anyone else.

“I don’t care,” Megumi decided.

Of course, Megumi, ever the craziest kid, hated his father just out of respect for his sister.

Suguru grinned, probably a little bit more careless than should be around such young children, but one that Megumi seemed to settle in, shoulders slumping forward while he took a step back, a couple pairs of shoes kicked out of the way for Suguru to walk in.

It was then that he looked down at Tsumiki’s feet, and noticed she walked outside barefoot, and let out a long sigh.

“If you’re gonna run outside without shoes—”

“At least wear socks,” she finished. “I know, I just got excited.”

When he set down the cupcakes on the kitchen table, Tsumiki and Megumi maybe managed to sit still for about two seconds before Megumi tore the lid open. Tsumiki, though, was the first one to snag a cupcake and take a bite out of it.

Her smile filled up the room, nose covered in bright red frosting, faintly resembling Rudolph. Suguru reached over to grab a napkin, but didn’t even get one in time before she took another large bite, completely smothering her entire face with frosting. When Suguru looked back at Megumi, he had done the same thing.

There was no time for him to even bother trying to get them to clean their faces before the both of them had another cupcake, and he was just enjoying watching them eat something other than the scraps that were left behind every time Toji left to disappear for a while.

Suguru reached to grab his own, and removed the wrapper before taking a bite out of it, not really paying much mind to how messy he was, and frankly didn’t think the kids were allowed to care considering how dirty their faces were, but Tsumiki still started to giggle at him all the same.

“You have a red nose!” She exclaimed, hiding her mouth behind a hand.

He went cross-eyed looking down at his nose, and Tsumiki only started laughing harder. Looking back up, he smiled. “You have a red face .”

She gasped and slapped her hands to either side of her face, getting them absolutely covered in frosting. “No!”

He shook his head as he reached forward with a napkin, only for her to pull away and start licking the icing off her hand.

Well, that’s certainly one way to solve that issue.

It was right then that the door burst open, and Satoru came marching through.

He froze after he kicked his shoes off, noticing the complete mess that was the kids, and seeing the red nose on Suguru’s face.

“Holy shit.”

Silence.

“You ate cupcakes with out me?” He took a step forward and grabbed one of the remaining cupcakes, taking a careful bite out of it as everyone watched. “Hm,” he pondered, “It’s alright.”

“Alright?” Tsumiki shrieked. “I disagree!”

She stood up on her chair, and pointed one finger at him, the remains of licked off frosting still lingering.

Satoru smiled. “Are you arguing with me?”

“Yes! It was a magnificent cupcake. It even had a flower on top!”

He shrugged with one shoulder, resting a hand on Suguru’s shoulder. “Yeah, that doesn’t mean it tasted good.”

“It tasted magnificent!”

“Oh we’re getting fancy, are we?”

“Super fancy.”

Suguru looked back at Megumi, who was hiding a smile behind the frosting absolutely covering his face.

“Alright, go clean up,” Suguru said, standing up and clapping.

Tsumiki frowned. “We didn’t finish all the cupcakes!”

“We can save those for after dinner. Go. Clean up. Take your brother with you.”

She smiled, and Megumi reached out a hand as she stepped off of the chair, leading them to the bathroom. Suguru took a deep breath and pushed himself up, face to face with Satoru.

There was a moment where Satoru just looked at him, took a deep breath, and sighed. A moment where the air between them was something lost, particles shifting, and evading the space where skin used to meet.

Satoru took a step forward, and held out his arms, wrapping them around Suguru’s shoulders and pulling him forward.

When Suguru fell into him, Satoru whimpered.

“What the fuck?”

“You got icing on my hoodie.”

Suguru snorted, wrapping his arms around Satoru’s waist.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

A beat, one that lasted a few seconds too long, and Suguru let his lips flutter against the skin on Satoru’s neck, something dangerously intimate.

Satoru let out a relaxing sigh, and gave Suguru a tight squeeze, but did not let go.

“Me too.”

Suguru pulled his head back, but kept his gaze level with Satoru’s noticing the way his eyes stayed positioned at the ground below them, ready to give way.

There was a faint dismissal lingering in the back of his mind, but one that he was eager to overcome.

He placed his hands on either side of Satoru’s cheeks, and ran his thumb up and down his cheekbone. Suguru did not know how to reach Satoru right now, did not know quite what to say, but he hoped that this was enough.

“Hey,” he whispered.

Satoru shook his head. “I’m just a little out of it.” A weak smile. “Woke up on the wrong side of the bed, that’s all.”

“For the last couple months?”

“You use the same excuse.”

Suguru bit his bottom lip, but let his fingers drift to Satoru’s hair, twirling it around as he pulled Satoru closer to him, and pressed his lips to his forehead.

“Take your time.”

“We won’t be allowed to.”

Suguru frowned. “Does that matter?”

“What?”

Suguru took a deep breath, and wondered how out of it Satoru must have been for him to forget something as monumental as this.

“If it’s not real. Just stage a break-up, right? Your family will think it’s over, and by then it’s too late for the press to find out.”

Satoru looked up at Suguru, like he thought he might be joking, and came up empty handed, apparently, because he looked back at the ground.

“Right,” he said. “Yeah, right.”

Suguru closed his eyes.

Sometimes, he could tell when what he said was slightly off kilter, and wasn’t doing any good. This was definitely one of those moments. The only problem, here, was that he could not figure out for the life of him why that was.

Satoru took another deep breath, and then fell back forward.

“Thank you for offering to fake break-up with me.” 

Suguru snorted.

There was some sort of relief.

“What are friends for?”

“Definitely not this.”

Suguru hummed. “Perhaps.”

Satoru let out a loud cackle as he pulled back. “‘Perhaps.’ What does that even mean?”

“Didn’t Shoko openly reject you?”

Satoru’s hand froze on Suguru’s shoulder. “Oh, fuck. I forgot about that.”

Suguru shrugged. There was no reason to stress too much about that, and leaned into Satoru’s side when he grabbed his hand, yanking him down the hall to where the bathroom was.

Tsumiki was helping Megumi wash his face, making sure there weren’t any red smears left behind.

“You guys all set?” Satoru asked.

Tsumiki’s tongue stuck out as she double checked Megumi’s face. “I think so. Does he look frosting free?”

Satoru leaned forward, carefully inspecting every goddamn corner, fingers loose in Suguru’s, the pulse in his thumb echoing on Suguru’s palm. “Looks good to me.”

He turned back to look at Suguru, a wicked grin on his face, and his heart stuttered.

Fuck me.

Suguru turned back to look at Megumi, watching as the kid stood up, noticing the red mark still stuck in his hair, and turned to glare at Satoru.

“You’re an asshole,” he whispered.

Satoru smirked as the kids walked into the living room. “And yet you never stop me.”

“You’re going to give them emotional trauma.”

“They’re not even old enough to remember it.”

“Yes,” Suguru said. “Yes they are.”

//

Edits from an article, now taken down:
[dated July 15th, 2007]

Image from: @yuuuuhaibara (Instagram)
Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru seemingly dancing together, hands up, arms around each others waists, a declaration of a blooming relationship
(tbd on whether actually together. be as vague as possible.)
continuing friendship
(grab more attention from readers if potential japanese olympic skier is gay.)
potential romantic relationship
(This is a goddamn sports magazine. Keep it what it needs to be.)
fondness between old friends before Gojo heads off for a more intense dryland practice camp with the rest of the team.

//

Satoru grinned wildly, watching as everyone let out a large cheer when he stepped through the door. Sunglasses perched to the top of his head, skin blaring bright red, but he leaned into everyone’s hugs, and fist bumps as he navigated the entryway, into the living room.

Next to where Suguru was standing, lingering by the end of the couch, furthest from the front door, Shoko had an unlit cigarette dangling from her lips as she stared down at her phone.

“What’s up?” he asked.

Her eyes flicked up to meet his briefly, until she shook her head, leaving Suguru even more confused.

“I’m gonna find out anyway,” he noted, looking back over at Satoru as he offered a brief thank you to Suguru’s parents, a regular side-hug before continuing on to Haibara. Seeing him surrounded by everyone, back from the camp, sunburnt and ecstatic, was nice as ever.

Shoko let out a long sigh, and handed him the phone, staring back up at the ceiling. It was the stupid photo of him and Satoru dancing again, something that had been popping up over and over for the last week.

He handed the phone back to her nonchalantly, trying his best to express the fact that no, this other article didn’t mean anything until Tengen legitimately asked Satoru if it was real , and if it would impact Satoru. Not that it mattered to Shoko, who kept a piercing gaze on Suguru as she slid her phone into her back pocket right as Satoru walked up to them.

Suguru pushed himself off the end of the couch, standing up so he was eye level with Satoru, and wondered if he’d seen the news, if this was even on his radar as a potential threat. He came up blank with any form of answer though, when Satoru wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him in tight.

Brief moments, where Suguru lingered on a thought too long, had been popping up a bit more frequently, and he just knew, from the look on Shoko’s face that he caught, something that he would’ve preferred not to see, that she had, not only caught onto it too, but was seriously judging him for not bringing up the articles.

“Hey,” Satoru said, looking over at Shoko. No hugs for Shoko, rule number one. “How’re you?”

Shoko shrugged. “Not used to it being so quiet.”

“You miss me?”

“Who’s to say?”

And she walked off, finding Utahime somewhere in the crowd.

“She looked suspicious.”

Suguru snorted. “She’s always suspicious.”

“Yeah, but extra suspicious, y’know? Are you guys keeping something from me?”

Suguru shook his head.

Satoru raised an eyebrow, nudging Suguru’s shoulder with his own.

“There’s definitely something.”

Suguru let out a low groan. “There’s something.” He met Satoru’s gaze. “It’s— well, it’s definitely not ideal.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Satoru asked, keeping a smile plastered on.

“It means you might not wanna go home tonight.”

“That is not helping, Suguru.”

Suguru took a deep breath and separated from Satoru, wondering if he might want it to stop the moment the words slipped out of his mouth.

Many different aspects to take into consideration, and he didn’t want to be forced to consider any of them, yet here he was.

“Some websites found a picture of us dancing that Haibara posted. There’s—”

Been some speculation? Too light, and Satoru hated being lied to more than anything, gullible fucker.

Rumors? Only a slight over exaggeration of the truth, but ridiculously heavy, and fell too much of a weight on the tip of his tongue.

“Oh.” Satoru lifted a shoulder. “That’s it?”

Suguru snapped his mouth shut. That’s it?

“Yeah, I guess. Didn’t know if you were still worried about that stuff.”

Satoru looked around at everyone else. “Well,” he said, “it could be worse. Speculations aren’t gonna do much.”

Suguru bit his bottom lip.

And if it grows to more?

Satoru grinned as someone waved him over, and offered Suguru a weak smile before walking off.

If all his feelings bled over, and he was left with a beating heart, a palm nowhere close to the size of keeping it warm, he thought he might explode.

Oil pouring over the tank, dripping to the ground, creating a river.

The lightest flame, and it would set alight, damaging everything around it.

Suguru could not cope with that, but he figured he must, for Satoru.

So he walked over, wrapped his arm around Satoru’s waist, like this was normal for them, and they were perfectly fine.

Suguru’s feelings were the ashes brushed aside, dumped in a jar full of ruined cigarettes, and he had accepted that long before it all came rushing in, a simple oh as Satoru’s snickers sunk into his brain, bouncing around like a promise he could never keep.

Satoru’s nose brushed against his earlobe, a subtle display of affection that had Suguru’s grasp melting.

Fuck.

//

Olympic Alpine Skier, Queer?
[dated August 23rd, 2007]

Image ID: Geto Suguru has a faint smile on his face, holding a mug, bright red with a heart on it, wearing Gojo Satoru’s ski team jacket. Gojo is standing next to him, hand on his elbow, pressing his lips to Geto’s forehead.

//

Suguru got into his car before his parents could even call after him.

He put it into reverse, arm swung over the passenger seat, and backed out as fast as possible.

The world flew by him, as his phone buzzed with texts, sitting on the console, and he glanced to see if any were from Satoru, but no .

Just Haibara, Yaga, his parents.

Shoko sent one too.

And then, like she was reading his mind, he just barely skimmed the no texting while driving before throwing his phone off to the side, and hightailing it to Satoru’s house.

In those moments of high stress, when Suguru thought the world would finally explode, or he was half torn between wanting it to implode, or wanting to throw himself off the edge of a cliff, he found himself going back to Satoru’s place.

Granted, chances were that Satoru actually needed him this time around. The question came down to whether he would even be let inside the house.

Damn the parents, though, he would make his way to Satoru.

When he pulled into the driveway, the lights were on, and he could see shadows pacing, putting on a show in the living room. Hands thrown up, head bowed down, but neither was Satoru.

There wasn’t his stance, or his hair.

Just his parents.

Suguru slammed his door shut, locking the car as he ran up to the front door.

He could hear voices echoing, before slamming the doorbell down maybe four times in a row, in case the message didn’t get across the first three.

The house was silent, just the soft noise of a latch clicking on the other side before the door was just barely pulled open, and the familiar face of Satoru’s father peaked through the crack.

“Satoru’s not here,” he said, deep breaths.

Suguru shook his head. “Yes, he is.”

“You contaminated him.”

“I didn’t—” Deep breath, mimicking Satoru’s father’s. “I didn’t do shit. He asked me out.” Off topic, but technically true. When the door started to shut, Suguru held his hand out, and pressed his foot in between before it could latch.

Satoru’s father let out a long sigh. “You are not allowed in this house.”

Suguru quirked his lip, amused. “You are ten years too late for that.”

He wanted to yell at them — declare that they were years too late for any of this, because no matter what happened, he’d be back at Satoru’s door.

The air was warm, Suguru had no problem waiting outside, even as the world started drizzling around him. There was no wind, just drops against his shirt. Clouds could empty their souls onto Suguru, drenching him in pain, but he would not move.

He needed to see Satoru, damn his stupid goddamn parents, and this stupid fucking decision that was made without them for whatever reason.

And, finally, Satoru’s father seemed to pick up on that.

He took a step back, letting the door swing open, and Suguru stormed in, kicking off his shoes before running up the stairs, to Satoru’s room.

When he got there, the door was latched shut, completely.

He knocked twice.

Silence.

Four times, a pause right after the third.

The door swung open, and Satoru was standing there, eyes red, but before Suguru could step forward, he noticed a glare.

It was unfamiliar.

At least, directed at him.

And then Satoru stepped back, letting Suguru in his room, before slamming his door shut locking it.

Suguru turned around, looking back at Satoru, and watched him, as Satoru watched him back.

There were so many unspoken things.

Satoru started with the obvious, though. “Tengen called me.”

“What’d he say?”

He shrugged. “I didn’t pick up.”

Suguru let out a deep breath. “Satoru—”

Satoru shook his head, limping forward, towards the bed. Towards Suguru. “Don’t.”

“Don’t— don’t what, Satoru?” One deep breath, after another, and another, and he wondered if he would find himself relaxing any time soon. “This isn’t—”

“Listen, listen to me,” said Satoru, falling back onto the bed. Suguru sat down, and looked down, where Satoru was looking up at him. “I could not give less of a shit—”

“Don’t lie.”

Satoru pursed his lips. “Fine. Fine!” He pushed himself back up, so they were looking directly at each other, no change in level, just barely able to reach each other’s eyes without the promise of a bridge burning.

Suguru didn’t want them to drown.

“What can we do?” Suguru asked.

Satoru shrugged. “End it.”

Suguru’s heart stuttered. It tripped over itself, twisting around, veins snapping, the shoelaces that break a thousand legs in a hundred marathons.

He froze. Sure, they could end it.

Sure, it would all freeze, and they’d pretend they stayed friends, but some part of Suguru latched onto the moments, surrounded by friends, holding hands, getting kisses on his forehead. Soft fingers brushing at his cheek, claiming that he had an eyelash, telling him to close his eyes as he blew at it and made a wish.

Eyes slightly opening as he blew away the eyelash, and noticing that there was nothing on Satoru’s finger, and he was just reaching for an excuse to touch Suguru.

“Oh,” he said. “Okay.”

Silence.

“Really?” Just to confirm, of course. That he heard Satoru right.

Satoru shrugged. “It wasn’t ever real, was it?”

There was a crack when what should have been a statement, a truth between the both of them, a light joke about all the shit they pulled, turned into a question. When the tilt of a voice, the fidgeting of fingers, the bouncing of a leg, made all the difference in the world.

Suguru caught Satoru’s eye, and immediately looked away. Blue so startlingly bright, that he wondered if he wouldn’t come back from any reckless action.

“Right,” was what came out of Suguru’s mouth. But there was no confidence to it, and his voice fell to the carpet, a whisper being soaked up by the room around him, and then spit back out. It was a warning, yelling at him to take it back, but he couldn’t.

Not now.

Could he?

“Don’t lie,” he repeated. Instead of anything else.

Satoru nudged Suguru’s shoulder with his. “What about you?”

Suguru opened his mouth, and closed it. “I don’t know.”

He had so many thoughts, but slowly, very slowly — as his mom called him again, and his dad texted him another flare up of question marks, but no actual question — it amounted to an all too familiar feeling, followed by nights of something that was not sleep, and mornings filled with dread and too heavy bed sheets.

Then again, it was established.

“Was this all for nothing?” He asked.

Satoru froze, no longer rocking back and forth, between Suguru and empty air. “What?”

“Did you—” He took a deep breath, and pushed himself off of the bed. Now that Satoru was all too eager to just throw it all out the window, the original hesitation from when Satoru first asked him started crawling back. Up his legs, circling his wrist, tickling his torso, digging it’s way into his chest. “Did you just lie to pull a joke—”

“What the fuck—”

“Let me finish , Satoru.” Sighing, he paced back and forth, before freezing and looking at Satoru. “You just—” Shaking his head, “You threw it all out.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Suguru?” Satoru asked, pushing himself up the bed, so those few centimeters he had on Suguru felt like a mountain.

Never quite so far away.

“You lied , don’t you get it?” Satoru shook his head, taking a couple steps back, distancing them. “Because I bent my back to make this work, and put myself out there for you, just so you could pull a prank!”

“That— is that what you think that this is?”

“Yes! That is literally what you told me what it was. To fuck over your parents.”

Satoru shook his head.

“Well then tell me, what is it? And why do you get to throw it out the window?”

“What, did you want to stay with me during this?”

Suguru froze and bit his lip. “If I did?”

Satoru scoffed.

“What?”

“I’m gay , Suguru.”

“You—” He stilled, hands grasping at the air around him, waiting for it to keep him in place. “No. No, you’re not.”

“Seriously?”

“You can’t be.”

“Suguru!”

He shook his head.

“Why aren’t you listening to me?”

Suguru didn’t want to believe it. Because this meant a thousand different things, but most importantly, this meant that he had no chance.

Both of them.

Satoru couldn’t squirm his way into a chance at freedom, and Suguru could not scrap his feelings under pure delusion of an impossible task.

“I am,” said Suguru. “I am.”

Satoru let out a deep breath. “I’m gay,” he repeated, more sounding like he was trying to convince himself. Something that faintly reminded Suguru of saying I like boys for the first time, and noticing the weight on his tongue.

Something that faintly reminded him of Satoru saying it back when this was first just some ridiculous joke.

Not a promise that would screw Satoru over, and leave Suguru somewhere in the debris.

“You’re gay.”

“Yes.”

“And—” Suguru pressed his palms to his forehead. “How long have you known this?”

Satoru shrugged with one shoulder. “Ever since I did that dryland camp.”

“A month .”

“Yes.”

“You— you’ve been gay for a month .”

Suguru frowned. “I think you, of all people, should know that that’s not how this works.”

“I know, just catch me up to speed.”

Satoru took a deep breath. “Shoko knew before I did.”

“Shoko—” Yeah, expected. “Alright.”

“And then, when I was out, I don’t— I don’t know. I saw some guy with his boyfriend, and it just clicked.”

Suguru frowned. So it didn’t click all the times they almost kissed, all the times they were asleep on top of each other, tangled and unwilling to let go?

“Well, I think they were boyfriends, but seeing two guys holding hands while sharing a dinner isn’t exactly—”

“I get it.”

Suguru sighed.

“I get it.”

Because he did. As much as he hated it, he did.

“So you just want to—” He shook his head, and sat back down on the bed. “Just end it?”

“I—” He looked up at Satoru, who was standing less than a foot in front of him, holding a hand out, waiting a second before touching Suguru’s forehead. “We don’t have to, but it’d be—”

“Yeah,” Suguru whispered. He looked down at the floor, where Satoru’s feet were staring directly at the space in between Suguru’s. “Okay.”

Did they just stop, did they announce the break-up, what did they even fucking do in this position?

Suguru sighed, and reached for Satoru’s hand, pulling him just a couple steps forward. He pressed his head to Satoru’s stomach, wrapping his arms around his waist.

“Or we can just ride it out?” Satoru suggested.

Suguru pulled back and looked up. “What do you mean?”

Satoru shrugged with one shoulder, a façade of nonchalance. “Don’t do anything? Just wait until it all dies down.”

A beat of silence, two, Suguru pulled his hand from Satoru’s waist, and let it drop down to his side. “So…”

Stay together?

Why would Satoru even fight for something that didn’t exist?

Fuck, Suguru couldn’t keep his thoughts straight.

“What about the Olympics?” Suguru asked, a grin forming.

“Screw the Olympics.”

“Satoru.”

A deep breath, and Satoru sat down next to Suguru, pressing his head to the crook of Suguru’s neck. “I dunno,” he whispered.

Silence.

“I don’t know.”

“That’s okay,” said Suguru. “We’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

They had to. Otherwise Suguru didn’t know what would happen. He’d do stuff, but Satoru was a beauty that removed the haze from day-to-day life, and made each breath something worth living for.

They’d figure it out, because Suguru wanted to see this through the end, and maybe — maybe — he could play the part a little too well, and fall a little further down.

Maybe — maybe — Satoru would be there to catch him.

And later, when Suguru went to see Shoko — Satoru just narrowly avoiding his parents as he flew out of the house to go meet up with Tengen, and talk the entire thing through — he threw his heart into the play-doh creations they were making.

“Where’s the blue?” He asked her, looking for a cover.

Shoko snagged it before he could. “No mixing colors.”

“Damn you.”

She rolled her eyes, before proceeding to mix the blue with the green, and Suguru pretended not to notice.

There was so much going on, and Suguru’s mind was trying to wrap around all of it, ultimately failing when he just nearly squished the life out of his red.

“You knew?” He asked, two minutes later.

Shoko stopped her hands, small round balls of teal beneath her fingers. “Knew what?”

Suguru took a deep breath. “He’s gay?”

“He told you?”

A beat.

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” said Suguru. “Okay.”

She shook her head as she kept splitting up her play-doh, letting a stack of small snowballs form. “You guys are ridiculous.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Suguru,” she said, pulling her hands away from the table. “He never asked me to pretend to date him.”

“What—” He froze, squishing the play-doh between his fingers again. “What are you saying?”

Shoko took a deep breath. “I need a cigarette.”

“Shoko.”

“You were the only person he ever asked. He didn’t ask me, and honestly I doubt it even crossed his radar.”

“Why—”

He never ever finished that sentence. He found he didn’t need to. Because by then, whether Satoru had wanted to admit it or not, he was aware of his sexuality. In no world would he put that kind of pressure on Shoko, who was still tossing the word lesbian around with sticky indifference.

But that was a completely different reason from what he wanted. Why would Satoru lie to him? Shoko for sure would never willingly reveal the answer, unless she was on a suicide mission that had some sort of appeal to her.

“He said you knew before him.”

“That he was gay?”

A nod. 

“I think he knew,” said Shoko, topping off her stack with one last play-doh ball. “I just don’t think he wanted to admit it.”

That—

That was fair.

Suguru took a deep breath.

“Did he say what he wanted to do?” Shoko asked.

Suguru hummed. “At first, he said to end it.”

“And then?”

“I got frustrated, for no apparent reason.”

Shoko snorted.

“Shut up.” He took a deep breath. “But he decided to talk to Tengen, figure out if we could keep dating to piss off his family, but keep the whole thing under wraps publicly.”

“Would that work ?”

“No clue.”

They didn’t even need to say it. Satoru would make it happen somehow, and they knew that.

“He’ll figure it out.”

A promise to himself:

That they’ll figure it out. That he’ll understand how to separate his emotions from reality, so it’s not another tumble.

He took a deep breath as he started forming a small panda shape, followed by agonizing silence.

“You’re the worst,” he whispered, unaware as to whether it was to the panda, or Shoko.

She seemed to know, though. So she hummed.

“Could I tell him?” he asked.

“What?”

“You know what.”

Shoko’s finger dragged over her large marble play-doh ball, smoothing out a ridge. “Do I?”

“Shoko.”

She looked up at him. “Is there any reason to telling him if you can’t even say it yourself?”

Suguru’s finger tapped against the table, pressing against the panda’s eye, smushing it so the table was poking through.

He shook his head. “Is that what you’re telling yourself with Utahime?”

She met his gaze, eyes flicking back down to the table as soon as she realized.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said.

No clue.

“Right,” he said.

Me too.

The room fell to silence, as Suguru stared at his deformed panda. Pressing his thumb to the center of his forehead, he felt the pressure circle around his brain, feeling skin dig into his skull, and relaxed at the sensation.

Something else to focus on, rather then the looming presence of unspoken words. It was a promise that there was another time to focus on those thoughts, that now he only needed to focus on play-doh, and the ugly color Shoko’s mixture was slowly forming, as she added orange.

Me too, he thought. Because yes , part of him knew , part of him saw Satoru and just let out one long sigh at the idea of feeling his hands, his mouth, and the promise of warmth. But — did that actually have to mean anything?

It did, but did it really?

Suguru pulled his thumb away before it could leave a mark that lasted too long, and his mom would ask him if he’d picked up his old tic again.

“Y’all will be fine,” said Shoko. “Really.”

Like it was a promise, and she was certain. She couldn’t be, but she was.

Suguru smirked as she smushed her play-doh down. “That seriously looks like shit.”

“Oh, fuck you,” she said, hurling it at him.

He just barely managed to dodge out of the way, watching as it fucking bounced off the wall. 

“Jeez.”

Shoko only shrugged.

“What the fuck were you even trying to make?” she asked.

He held up his creation: “A panda.”

“What kind of panda?”

“A traumatized one.”

She stared at Suguru through the hole where he had pressed straight through it. “Lovely. What’s his backstory?”

“Serious abuse.”

“Yeah?”

“Got saved.”

“Oh, that’s nice.”

“The savior dies.”

“Oh.” She stared a little bit longer. “So did he just get a bullet through the head, or something? Why does it go straight through?”

“Axe.”

“The backside?”

“On the second hit.”

“He was hit twice ?”

Suguru frowned. “I don’t think an axe could create such a clean hole through the skull in one hit.”

“It’s your play-doh panda, how the fuck was I supposed to know? How many hits did it take?”

“Four.”

“Four?”

“Plus one with a spear.”

The corner of Shoko’s lip quirked up, and Suguru smirked. “Yikes.”

“Yikes,” he repeated.

Yikes, to be stuck there in that position, trying to get away and get closer to the same person all at once.

Shoko took a fork, and when Suguru set his panda back down, she stabbed it straight through the body.

Suguru rolled his eyes as she pulled the cigarette pack out of her pocket, slid one in between her lips, and said, “What a cruel world we live in, huh.”

“Or maybe the panda just had really, really , bad luck,” Suguru insisted, like it was a truth he could wrap himself around.

“I think,” said Shoko, “that you and I both know the answer to that.”

Her lighter lit up, orange licking the sky above bright pink, and the end of the cigarette caught flame.

//

Olympic Alpine Skier, Queer? — Still Unanswered
Interview Transcript
[dated September 2nd, 2007]

M: In the last week ever since the leaks of Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru were released, them sharing a possible more-than-friends relationship, Japanese Olympic alpine ski team remains quiet. We can only assume that Gojo will stay on the team, given that he is their best skier, without question, but it’s only a matter as to how this might impact his future career.

K: It’s definitely going to be rough for him, no matter what.

M: For sure, for sure.

K: I agree, yeah, for sure they’re keeping him on the team. He’s probably our best chance in decades of being even considered for a medal, given the last one we got for slalom was in ‘56, and it was Igaya Chiharu. They can’t get rid of him without a fight. I am worried about how after next February the rest of his life will change.

M: There’s certainly some hesitancy about having people with homosexual tendencies in sports, and it’s clearly a giant worry considering we haven’t heard from anyone, including Tengen, coach of the national team, ever since the photos dropped.

K: Well, what else is he supposed to do? He can’t admit to it, then that’s certainty that the rest of his future is screwed over. And if it is real, and those photos weren’t edited, then I’d be surprised if he’d want to openly deny it.

M: Who’s to say?

K: Now that that’s out of the way. There was a ski conference with teams surrounding Tokyo last week, wasn’t there?

M: And who’s surprised to see Nanami Kento coming out on top?

K: In the mens, of course, Ieiri Shoko remains strong-headed in first, and of course we applaud her for setting more records.

M: Oh, of course, of course. It’s a wonder she hasn’t joined the national team yet.

K: Well, with recent news, I think we’re allowed to assume why. After all, for years people assumed she and Gojo were in a relationship. I’d assume she’d want to do it at her own time.

//

“You wanna know something crazy?” Satoru asked him, one day when he had stormed into the house, rain pouring outside.

Tsumiki nodded her head at the dinner table, as if they were even looking at her and Megumi, who were supposed to be finishing their food.

Suguru hummed as he folded a corner of Tsumiki’s napkin down.

“I have—” Satoru pulled out his phone and checked the date. “5 months exactly until I’m gonna be in another country.”

“Canada!” Tsumiki cheered, still watching as Suguru carefully creased the fold. “Whatcha making?”

“Surprise,” whispered Suguru.

“What part of Canada?” Satoru asked, a slight dig at working on their geography.

“Vancouver,” announced Tsumiki.

Satoru pressed his hands down onto the table. “What province?”

She frowned. “I forgot.”

“That’s alright, we can relearn it. Megumi?”

He pressed his fingers against the table. “British Columbia?”

“Yeah, there ya go.”

The mornings when they watched the kids, brief periods when they had a weekend off, or a free day in their schedule, those were always peaceful.

Satoru would wake him up, they’d watch the sunrise together, Suguru staying a good couple centimeters away until Satoru pressed against him, and they pretended.

For a little while.

Then they’d wake up the kids, make ‘em lunch, walk them over to their camp, pretending. Only to come back, and sit on the couch, finishing up homework, and talking, and Satoru sitting right next to him.

Suguru finished up  Tsumiki’s swan and handed it to her, a smile on her face as she gently reached for it.

“I wanna learn!”

He smiled as she carefully pressed down and put it in her lunch box. “Yeah, I’ll teach you tomorrow, how about that?”

She returned it with her own smile, something tilted. Suguru imagined she got it from her dad, and the deep scar on his lip that never let him smile with his entire mouth.

Tsumiki never did either.

“Alright,” said Satoru, pushing his chair back, scraping the floor. “Ready?”

Megumi pushed himself off his seat without a word, and Tsumiki followed, grabbing both of their bags.

Satoru turned to Suguru. “I’ll be right back?”

Suguru smiled and turned back to the table, grabbing another napkin. “Yep.”

The silence of Toji’s house when it was empty was unbearably daunting. Even if the guy had his moments.

He looked around, trying to pick out on anything different, as he always did when Satoru left to take the kids. There was a heavy air when Megumi was dragged out of bed this morning, and when Tsumiki followed after him.

Toji’s smile lingering on her face.

When he looked around the kitchen, there was a bent spoon on the floor, and Suguru picked it up, bending it back into place. He set it on the counter, a reminder to wash it later, and then kept looking around, stopping just before he reached the kids’ room.

There always seemed to be something new there, another hole in the wall, a knife laying on the floor somewhere. Somehow, always, the kids unscathed.

Suguru sometimes wondered if it was Toji carrying the knife every night.

If, perhaps, Tsumiki picked up on slight-of-hand, as out of character as it seemed for her. Megumi didn’t seem old enough to be able to properly handle a knife, but who knew.

Maybe just hidden under the mattresses, a place that nobody checked, a safeguard for when the wall started to cave under the coat of Toji’s rage.

The room was fine, though, when he checked. When he looked under the beds to see if anything was hidden, and double checked the First Aid kit to see if any Band-Aids were used, everything was in place.

Quiet night, he supposed.

For some ridiculous reason, though, it was common for Toji to come back every night. A quick mumble of a goodnight to the kids, a rare forehead kiss, supposedly — if he was calm enough, and had it in him to care enough.

And that was why Suguru was surprised to see his bed still made that morning.

“Fuck,” he said.

Right when he heard the front door open.

He immediately scrambled back over to where Satoru was kicking off his shoes.

Satoru pressed a hand to Suguru’s shoulder. “What the fuck is happening?”

“Toji never came home last night.” Slow breaths, he reminded himself, and let out a long sigh as he regained his composure.

“Seriously?”

Suguru shrugged.

“Is— how do you know?”

“His bed is still made,” Suguru explained, trying to avoid reading too deep into what might have just been a careless situation.

Satoru let out a deep breath, grabbing Suguru’s hand. Suguru didn’t know which of them he was comforting. Leaving those kids alone at night on their own?

“The only thing I saw was a bent spoon, that’s it.”

“Is it possible Tsumiki just cleaned up?”

Suguru shrugged. “Didn’t seem like it.”

“She was exhausted when I first woke her up, it took her a second.”

“Yeah.” Suguru frowned. “That’s what I’m saying.”

Satoru squeezed his hand. “We’ll figure it out.”

Suguru wanted to shake his head — to say will we because would they ? This was something beyond their control, that they could never keep pace with 

This was something they tried to control and ultimately failed at, despite their best attempts.

“They’ll be fine,” Satoru affirmed.

Suguru offered a weak smile, but didn’t say anything in response, and the place remained that way up until it was time for Suguru to go pick the kids up, and to walk back to see Satoru sitting at the kitchen table like he was ready for a family meeting.

Because they probably were, and Suguru had pursed his lips when Satoru told them no leaving the kitchen without talking.

“Where’s your dad?” He asked.

Suguru hadn’t even put Tsumiki’s lunch box away, Megumi hadn’t even settled in his seat, Tsumiki was still untying her shoes.

Megumi pushed himself back up, but Satoru held out a hand.

“Megumi.”

Megumi, who said nothing, and just stared at Satoru, both of them unwilling to move.

They glared at each other, a challenge in their eyes, Megumi’s gaze awfully unsettling for a kid who just barely knew how to spell.

Suguru exchanged a quick glance with Tsumiki, who was biting her bottom lip, wondering if she should speak up, and he offered a quick nod of encouragement, because they needed to know, if this would turn into a challenge, if they had to do anything.

Tsumiki took a shaky breath, and said, voice wavering, “He left last night.”

“Left?” Satoru repeated, looking back at Tsumiki, keeping his arm out in front of Megumi. “Left how?”

Tsumiki shook her head, and wiped at her eyes. “I thought he was just— I didn’t think he was serious. I thought I’d wake up, and his bed would be all messy.”

Megumi took a step back, and Satoru cautiously lowered his arm, leaning forward.

“He came into our room, falling over something, and I thought he was—”

His voice clamped shut as he looked back at Tsumiki.

Fuck , Suguru thought. Fuck me.

“I had a knife,” Megumi finished.

Tsumiki let out a loud sob, and Suguru rushed over, wrapping his arms around her. “He said he’d never come back.”

Suguru hoisted her up, just in time her to sniffle, right onto his shoulder, and he looked over at Megumi, Satoru kneeling down in front of him, holding out a hand.

There was a moment of truth, a promise somewhere buried underneath it, as Megumi took Satoru’s hand. Soft, small, fingers pressed gently against Satoru’s palm, and Satoru carefully wrapped his hand around Megumi’s.

Suguru kept Tsumiki in his grasp, even as her sobs died away, and it was just a deep breathing in her ear, and he wondered when it’d all end.

“Hey,” said Satoru.

Megumi looked up at him.

“Wanna see Yaga?”

Oh, good lord.

They were going to dump these kids on Yaga’s doorstep, weren’t they?

//

Gojo Satoru — Staying on the Olympic Team
[dated September 17th, 2007]

As a few teams update their rosters for the Olympics, Gojo stays solid, one of their most expected and most important skiers for slalom, and in many photos he’s seen conversing with Kuroi Misato, silver medal winner of giant slalom race in the last Winter Olympics.

//

Suguru watched as Satoru fidgeted with the CD player, trying to figure it out, pressing random buttons like the music would start blasting, and, eventually, he’d flick the right switch. The problem with this was Satoru turning up the volume the entire way, to see if that would make it work, and ultimately failing.

So, when he did finally flick the right switch, both of them would go fucking deaf, because Satoru was an idiot who refused to think the simple things through.

He reached over and pushed Satoru’s hands to the side, lowering the volume.

“Hey,” Satoru exclaimed. “Then how will we hear it?”

“Because when you finally click the play button—” Suguru pressed it. “—if the volume’s completely up, we’re going to lose our hearing.”

Satoru pressed his shoulder against Suguru’s, feeling skin brush against his, some unspoken words buried underneath it.

“Fine,” Satoru murmured. “Whatever you say.”

Suguru smiled as the music started faintly playing in the background, and Satoru hummed softly to the tune.

He held up his phone and showed Suguru a photo Yaga had sent him, of the kids, frosting absolutely covering their faces, Tsumiki smiling wide as ever, Megumi in the corner, not smiling, but looking fairly pleased with the cake in front of them.

Suguru snickered, and watched as Satoru opened up his own camera to take a picture, turning the camera to face Suguru, who offered a weak smile and his fingers up in a wave.

When Satoru showed Suguru the photo, he nodded, and Satoru sent it off, setting his phone to the side.

“Hey,” said Satoru, pushing himself up. He held out a hand. “Would you like to dance?”

Suguru scoffed.

He scoffed, but he pushed himself off of the ground, and grabbed Satoru’s hand, standing within a couple inches of him, ignoring the way his heart stuttered over itself.

Satoru was smiling brightly, and Suguru didn’t even mention the fact that there was no reason for them to be so affectionate, that the world around them ceased to care in these moments, and they could just be.

So maybe that was why they were dancing. Because they could just be.

Satoru grabbed his hand, let the other settle on Suguru’s waist, and Suguru mimicked the motion as Satoru began rocking them back and forth.

Music ringing in the background, the world around them falling apart in the most peaceful way possible, Suguru felt himself relax, leaning forward. Just enough for their temples to brush, and Satoru’s breath to bounce off his cheek, a familiar warmth, just like bodies holding on too tight.

Suguru thought to himself: repeating every promise he’d ever made, the fact that he fought for some words that didn’t truly exist, fighting for some delusion that might never make sense, that might never work, and he had accepted that. Even as Satoru squeezed his hand, and stepped on his toe, not even murmuring an apology.

He smiled as it happened, toes brushing toes, a thumb pressed against the back of his hand, an anchor to the boy filling his senses, and to the world around him, beneath his feet.

“I was thinking,” whispered Satoru, just loud enough to be heard over the music, “for our next date.”

Suguru hummed.

“We go to see my parents—” Like Satoru didn’t camp out at Suguru’s for a week just to stay safe after the news broke out online. “—and just— we just watch a movie.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

That’s it.

“What movie?” Suguru asked.

“We’ll let them pick.”

He let out a soft groan, and Satoru bumped his forehead to Suguru’s in place of an apology. “It’ll be some weird straight romance.”

Satoru snorted. “They’re gonna try to convert me while I’m sitting on your lap on the couch, some borderline abusive sex scene going on in the background.”

“I think that’s a surefire way to get us both killed,” Suguru mumbled.

“Nah.”

Suguru stared at Satoru, glanced down at his lips, and then back up at his eyes before he could do anything ridiculously stupid that he’d have to storm out of his own house. He hadn’t stooped that low yet.

Suguru hummed. “I’ll do it, but I’ll have you know that as many straight romances as I watch, there’s a certain amount that I can handle, and I don’t know if your parents—”

His words were muffled quiet as Satoru leaned forward.

As Satoru leaned forward, and kissed him.

And kissed Suguru.

And Suguru froze, the world blowing up beneath his feet, Satoru still in his arms.

The world was suddenly on fire.

Suguru leaned into it, the arm around Satoru’s waist squeezing just momentarily, and his teeth brushed Satoru’s lip.

Satoru pulled back, a fire blazing his eyes.

A fire, and some fear, dousing it out.

“Shit,” Suguru whispered, in place of horrific silence.

Satoru nodded his head, and repeated it, a sin, full of worry, rather than contorted excitement. “Shit.”

“Wait—”

Satoru was already grabbing his phone from off the floor, and sliding it into the right pocket of his pants.

Suguru stepped forward, to grab Satoru’s wrist, but he dodged out of the way and walked out of the room. He tried to chase, but he nearly tripped over his feet, reaching for the wall, and just managed to keep himself upright, when he heard the front door open.

He raced forward, and noticed the rain, and Satoru’s hood up, hands pocketed. Suguru groaned as he fumbled for his shoes, trying not to fucking fall and die before he had the opportunity to fucking kiss this idiot back .

Throwing on his sweater, he opened the door, and ran down the driveway, to the sidewalk, where Satoru had already thrown himself into a full sprint, and Suguru nearly tripped himself trying to keep up. Yeah, he was better at the fights, the muscle, but Satoru always had a penchant for speed, and this was the worst possible time for that.

“Satoru!” He yelled out, his hood falling down his head, the bun in his hair loosening.

Satoru slowed to a jog, and Suguru thanked the fucking gods as he reached for his wrist, and turned him around. “Satoru,” he said again.

He had, over the course of his life, repeated the word, his name, a thousand times, a confession he needed to make true.

Finally, he thought.

“Satoru,” he repeated. “Satoru.”

“I’m—”

“Satoru, listen to me.”

His hair was pressing to his back, and his clothes were drenched and he just felt fucking soaked , but it was okay. Satoru was listening to him, looking wary, but listening.

“Satoru, I want—” He pursed his lips. One deep breath. “You.”

Satoru raised his eyebrows. “What?”

“Oh, don’t be an idiot,” Suguru groaned, and reached for Satoru’s cheeks to pull him forward.

Finally.

A whisper at the back of his mind fell to pieces as Satoru’s lips slid against his, hands crawling up his neck, fingers tangling with his hair.

The world didn’t matter, again.

When he was with Satoru, the rest of the world never mattered.

When Suguru was with Satoru, he relaxed, he took deeper breaths, and his heart rate slowed down, and his mind sped up, a thousand excuses for each touch, each graze.

A contradiction of everything that was meant to be, but this time.

This time Satoru was tight against him, and they were still pulling each other closer, and Suguru thought he might forget how to breathe, but he didn’t want to stop, because Satoru—

SatoruSatoruSatoru, all five senses and the boy he loved right in front of him.

He hummed as he pulled back, eyes cracking open, hands still on Satoru’s cheeks, watching as Satoru followed him, and Suguru smiled, meeting him halfway there.

Satoru hummed, a feeling reverberating, and Suguru sighed into it.

“Yeah,” he said.

“What?”

“That—” Suguru froze, as Satoru leaned forward again. Lips brushing lips, and then his nose, his cheek. He smirked. “You’re insane.”

Satoru smiled, something wild, hair plastered to the top of his head, raindrops dripping over his eyes. “I’ve never been known for anything else.”

Suguru shook his head. “Good.”

“Why’d that take you so long?”

Suguru froze, hands dropping to Satoru’s shoulders. “Me,” he repeated. “Me.”

“Yeah! Yeah, you.”

He frowned. “How long did you know you liked me?”

Satoru stuttered. “We’re already doing this?”

“You’re the one who started it.”

“Fine. Late January.”

“Hah,” Suguru snorted. “Middle of March.”

“Seriously?” Satoru groaned.

He shrugged. “You’re the one who didn’t even ask Shoko , you just lied to my face about that.”

“She told you?”

Suguru waved an arm, but Satoru grabbed it and tugged him close.

“Sorry about that.”

“No, you’re not.”

Satoru smiled. “No, I’m not.”

Suguru followed his smile, and looked up to meet his eyes, vibrant. “Well then,” he said, “I’m not either.”

Chapter Text

Shoko slapped his shoulder.

“Thanks,” said Suguru, sarcasm dripping.

“Hey, no problem.”

The cigarette floated up to her lips, and he watched as she lit it, taking a deep breath.

“Y’know,” he started, “if you’re going into med school, smoking probably isn’t an ideal way to get there.” She turned to glare at him. “Just saying.”

Shoko rolled her eyes as her forearms pressed against the window sill, smoke drifting away, dissipating.

Shoko took another slow drag, preparing her response. “You probably should get a cap on your mental health if your boyfriend is about to adopt two kids.”

Suguru rose his eyebrows.

“Just saying.”

“Technically, he’s not allowed to until he’s twenty, so—”

“Shut up.”

Suguru did just that. And she was right.

Yaga might as well be filling out those forms in place of Satoru and Suguru, until they actually could get their hands on legal documentation, without any issues.

It was one hell of a situation and neither of them knew the right way to dirty their hands so that they could make this work, but they would. They’d have to.

When Suguru looked up, the sky was grey, a soft breeze rolling across their arms, and Shoko tapped her cigarette, ashes falling to the ground beneath them. He felt her shiver next to him, and he pulled back, but she stayed there, watching the ground beneath her.

A soft hum escaped her lips, and Suguru pressed his foot against her ankle, but she never swung back.

“You good?” He asked.

She shrugged, and pulled the cigarette pack out of her pocket. Making a clicking noise, she stepped back for Suguru to close the windows, and walked over to the trash can. Her fingers dropped, and so did the pack, falling straight into the bin.

Suguru blinked a couple times, wondering if that was the last pack, when, a couple weeks ago she made a joke saying that she was done smoking, and had no reason to bother anymore, now that she was dead-set on joining the national team.

That was also a new development. Suguru smirked as she stepped back, into the living room to pull out her phone.

“Nice job,” he said.

She shook her head, cracking her knuckles. “Eh.”

He snorted, and was just about to mention how Utahime must be thanking the gods when the front door swung open.

A loud, too cheery voice, yelled out, “We’re home!”

Suguru looked to the entrance of the living room, and watched Satoru peeked in, Megumi and Tsumiki flanking either side of him.

Satoru just nearly ran up to Suguru, wrapping his arms around Suguru’s waist and pressing his lips to Suguru’s cheek, a chill running down his neck, and his lower back as Satoru’s hands snuck up his shirt.

“You’re freezing,” he said, pulling back to give Satoru a quick kiss. When he looked back down at the kids, Tsumiki was smiling like an idiot, something she was starting to pick up from Satoru, and Megumi was gagging.

“I can hear you laughing, Shoko,” Satoru announced, voice muffled by Suguru’s neck.

“At the kid. He’s funny.”

Suguru wouldn’t have caught it if he wasn’t fully paying attention, but he noticed the way Megumi’s shoulders rolled back.

Satoru pulled back, and Tsumiki tugged on the bottom of Suguru’s shirt. “Yaga’s our legal guardian! At least till you guys can adopt us.”

“I heard,” Suguru said, leaning down so he could hold her hands, Satoru’s hands still pressing up against his back.

Megumi took a couple steps forward and offered a weak grin, looking mainly at the ground.

“Yeah?” Suguru said, watching as the grin slipped back into a stubborn stare. “You ready?”

Tsumiki’s hand squeezed his finger, and he glanced back at her.

Shoko stood up, and kicked the back of Megumi’s leg softly. Both he and Tsumiki turned around to look at her. “How about we go watch a movie or something, eh?”

Standing back up as the others left the room, Suguru turned around to face Satoru again.

So, yes, the kids were practically theirs now. That was strange, one hell of a difference. Satoru seemed to pick up on the way he tensed, grabbing his hand and squeezing.

“How are your parents?” Suguru asked.

Satoru shrugged with one shoulder. “Fine.”

That was far from an ideal answer. Satoru knew this, and Suguru just kept watching him as he looked out the window.

“They’re… I dunno, they’re what you’d expect.”

Sighing, “Do you need a place to stay?”

“Yes.”

No matter what, no matter how much Satoru proved himself over and over, it seemed like a weight that they kept dropping onto his shoulders every time they remembered that he and Suguru were a thing .

Not to mention, the hits seemed to bruise Satoru darker now that it was, most (un)fortunately, a real relationship, and Satoru was really out as gay. Which was so much more different than just having a boyfriend.

Satoru squeezed his fingers again. “You’re quiet.”

“I’m thinking.”

“About what?”

“How easy it’d be to get away with murder.”

Satoru smirked. “I think there’s a show about that.”

“Is there?” Satoru’s eyes flicked up to meet his. “They’ll come around before the Olympics.”

“Will they?”

Raising an eyebrow, “They have to. They’re paying for your ticket. And hotel room.”

“And yours.”

Suguru let out a deep breath. “You’re insane.”

“No, I’m not. You’re coming , Suguru.”

Of course he was, that didn’t matter, what mattered was that in no world did it seem possible for them to successfully convince Satoru’s parents to say yes .

“You,” said Suguru, “are coming home with me tonight.”

“You sound so seductive when you say that,” Satoru joked.

Suguru flexed his free hand. “I’m two seconds away from punching you.”

Ignoring him, Satoru pressed a kiss to his cheek, and led them out of the room, to where Tsumiki was collapsed on the couch, feet on Shoko’s lap, and Megumi curled in on himself in a bucket.

Satoru leaned over and whispered into Suguru’s ear, “Which one’s the strange kid?”

“Both,” responded Suguru. “For sure.”

Two voices shouted back out, “I heard that!”

//

October 2nd, 2007

satoru💕: ill have you know that, despite my worst attempts, megumi still refuses to eat his veggies (12:23 PM)
satoru💕: [photo.jpg] (12:23 PM)
satoru💕: it’s so bad i think he hates me D: (12:24 PM)
satoru💕: please hurry up (12:25 PM)

hi hi sorry omw (12:31 PM)
my mom was up my ass about something for whatever reason (12:32 PM)

satoru💕: i think your mom cares more about me than you do (12:34 PM)

that’s low (12:35 PM)
tell meg that im taking his legos away if he doesnt eat his veggies (12:35 PM)

satoru💕: i am so sorry suguru (12:41 PM)
satoru💕: this kid just said with a straight face “my dad’s done worse” (12:42 PM)

ask him how he’d feel about being a lawyer (12:43 PM)

satoru💕: he says “fuck you” (12:44 PM)
satoru💕: aren’t kids supposed to not swear? (12:44 PM)

//

Satoru was asleep in his bed.

This was not a new sight, it was old, a painting that Suguru revisited frequently enough for it to be a style he was practically hanging it up in the back of his mind. But the exhaustion that actually crept onto Satoru’s face as he stumbled into the house the second Suguru opened the door was just a bit nerve-wracking.

Just a bit.

When Satoru had gone home last night for the first time in a week, he had called Suguru up less than half an hour later, attempting to sound cheerful as ever. Attempting.

And then, jokingly, he had asked if he could stay at Suguru’s place for the rest of forever, and damn him for having such good parents, ‘it sounds like heaven.’

Jokingly.

After a minute of silence, Suguru had pursed his lips, and, as if Satoru could see him over the call, he said, ‘it’s just a joke, chill.’

A classic Satoru move, and Suguru told him ‘bored as hell this week, come on over whenever.’ knowing they’ll both feel twice as better if Satoru’s within arms reach of Suguru, and out of yelling distance of his parents.

Satoru’s breath, and a hair fluttered in front of him, moonlight cascading onto his face. Suguru leaned over and brushed it behind his ear. Satoru’s eyelid twitched.

He reached over, his arm as his pillow since Satoru was hogging all of his, and let his hand fall onto Satoru’s cheek, shadows dimming his face. Suguru’s thumb ran up and down his cheek bone, tracing the scar of an eight year old going too fast on a scooter.

Suguru smiled to himself.

Moments like these, everything shut down around them, parents out of town, just the admiration of a thousand unspoken truths, and, yeah.

Suguru understood that he was in love.

Had been since the beginning, maybe, the second Satoru threw his pole on the ground and let it slide down to the bottom of the run just because he was pissed he ran into Suguru.

Not the other way around.

No matter what he said.

He pulled his hand back, and Satoru opened his eyes.

“Are you watching me while I sleep?” asked Satoru, his voice a whisper.

Suguru smiled. “Yeah.”

“Creep,” Satoru said, leaning forward and catching Suguru’s lips in his own. Foreheads pressed together, Satoru pulled away. “Suguru?”

A hum and a smile.

“Thank you.”

“Hey, uh—” Suguru bit down on his bottom lip. “I was late a couple days ago to watching the kids.”

“It’s fine.”

Suguru rolled his eyes. “I don’t give a shit about that.” He took a deep breath and pulled back from Satoru. “My mom wants me to see a shrink.”

Satoru’s eyes widened and he looked prepared to laugh, lips curving up. When Suguru didn’t react to that, just looked overhead at the window, Satoru’s face fell.

“Holy shit,” he said. “You’re serious.”

“Fucking—” Suguru looked back at Satoru. “Of course I’m serious.”

The candle in the corner of his room was overwhelming.

“It’s so weird, seeing a shrink—”

“Yeah, what the hell?” Satoru sputtered as he waved his hand in between them. “What do you even talk about?”

Suguru shook his head, smiling softly. “I dunno.”

Satoru’s eyes softened. 

He sighed. “The fact that I don’t get out of bed for weeks on end?”

“Hm, that’ll do it.”

Suguru looked back down at their hands, centimeters away from each other, and reached out his pinky to brush against Satoru’s, tangling them.

Satoru watched him for a couple seconds, eyes scanning his face. “You able to sleep?”

“Yeah. Just give me a few minutes.”

“Alright.”

Satoru stayed where he was, eyes open, blinks dragging on a little bit longer every time it happened.

“Sleep,” Suguru urged.

Satoru half shook his head, looking more like a ruffle, burying himself further into the pillow. “Not till you do.”

Less than two minutes later, Suguru was watching as Satoru took deep breaths, hair fluttering against his forehead again, asleep.

He snuck a hand onto Satoru’s neck, and carefully pressed his lips to his forehead. He waited for Satoru to evaporate, but he stayed right there, underneath Suguru’s palm.

His mom’s words rung in the back of his mind. ‘Hold onto this.’

Suguru faintly wondered how he’d ever let it go.

//

the GANG (™)
November 6, 2007

shoko💪: satoru told me (7:34 PM)

he told you what (7:39 PM)

satoru💕: i did NOTHING !!! leave me out of it (7:40 PM)

shoko💪: he told me about the surprise party (7:41 PM)

SATORU (7:41 PM)

satoru💕: I AM THE VICTIM IN THIS (7:42 PM)
satoru💕: i had NO SAY (7:42 PM)

shoko💪: he cracked instantly (7:43 PM)
shoko💪: i appreciate the effort though. are the kids coming? (7:43 PM)

yeah (7:44 PM)
they miss you (7:44 PM)

shoko💪: you guys gonna teach em how to ski (7:45 PM)

satoru💕: oh you know it man (7:46 PM)

//

Suguru let out a long sigh as he walked out of the building.

When he walked into his car, he pressed his forehead against the steering wheel, and squeezed his hands, knuckles going white. The radio blared, an alarm in his ear, music that seemed to put everything else to the side for a moment, and another deep breath escaped his lips. His fingers were frozen, gloves left at home. Hair tangled, ponytail still on his wrist.

His whole body hurt, truthfully, and he wiped at his eyes, hands coming back dry.

Before he walked out of the room, the lady had asked Suguru how he felt.

He had shrugged, and said, “Alright.”

But if he were honest about his feelings to a random lady who was paid to analyze his emotions, he would have said, “I cannot fathom how my legs are working, and the world under my feet feels like quicksand, and my first practice training a bunch of kids, not actually being on the team, is today and I can’t even think things through properly.”

He leaned back, and his phone lit up, a text from Satoru soaring into his notifications before he could even catch his breath, and Suguru finally sighed and turned on the car.

The radio kept blaring as he drove down the highway, passing a thousand different assholes, and into the parking lot, watching carefully as at least three four year olds come flying into the street out of nowhere, and he had to slam on the breaks to make sure he didn’t murder any poor unsuspecting child.

That would most certainly make for an entertaining second meeting with his therapist.

When he walked over to the meeting house, skis swung over his shoulder, a bunch of kids were already crowded around out front, Yaga talking them through certain steps, Satoru at his side.

Suguru awkwardly walked up next to them, strands of hair blowing across his eyes with the soft breeze, and Satoru brushed his elbow against Suguru’s ribs.

“And,” said Yaga, “Here is your last teacher. He’ll be here a little bit late every other week, so you guys get to sleep in an extra five minutes.”

One of the older kids let out a loud cheer, and Suguru raised a hand. “I’m gonna get ready, can you guys start warming up without me?”

A few of them nodded their heads, and Suguru took that as he set down his skis, resting them against the wall of the building. When he stepped inside, he wrung his hands, adjusting to the warm air as he set his bag down on one of the tables.

He ignored the door when he heard it swing open, and took out his gloves and boots, focusing on getting ready for the practice, trying very hard to ignore everything that was ever mentioned during the session today, even though it was just general. Even though the lady was just trying to get a recap of his life, a general one. Trying to set up everything with Suguru’s mom, and understanding more about who Suguru was as a person. Was he really genuinely supposed to go more in depth than that?

A hand pressed against his shoulder, and Suguru let out a deep breath, pressing his hands against the table and leaning forward.

“How was it?” Satoru asked.

He shook his head and turned around.

“Need anything?”

Suguru looked up at Satoru, who was looking kinda sorry, kinda stressed out, and nodded his head, holding out his arms.

Satoru took it with ease, and returned the hug without a second thought.

“You’re all set,” he said, running his fingers up and down Suguru’s back. “Come on, we have some asshole fifteen year olds to train.”

“Surprised you could make it today.”

Satoru shrugged. “Tengen canceled, for whatever reason.”

Suguru looked up at Satoru, seeing nothing but truth in his words.

“Yaga said I could help you out.”

“Awesome.” He turned back around to start getting his boots on. “Can you start warming the kids up?”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll see you out there.”

“Yup.”

When the door slammed shut, he leaned against his bag, the zipper burying into his forehead.

One deep breath. Two. Three.

Fourfive.

Six.

Seven.

Eight.

Nineten.

Eleven.

Twelve.

Thirteen.

Fourteen.

Suguru pulled back, and unzipped the bag to grab his helmet, sliding it on over his mask, making sure the goggles wouldn’t go flying halfway through a run. He tossed his bag onto the lockers, alongside all the other kids’, next to Satoru’s.

He slid his gloves on as he walked out, and looked at all the kids, swaying back and forth to stretch legs, one kid twirling around his pole.

“Alright,” he said, grabbing everyone’s attention. Satoru stepped up next to him. “We’re gonna start off simple, I’m gonna see where everyone is, alright?”

Nods from all around, supposedly, and Suguru let out a deep breath as he reached for his skis, tossing them onto the ground. One step down. “I’ll watch you guys go down.”

And they did just that.

On the chairlift, all the kids went on ahead of them, and Satoru turned to Suguru to say, “I was thinking about seeing a therapist so I’m ready to watch the kids, but you look fuckin’ exhausted.”

Suguru smirked, elbowing Satoru. “You definitely have to go.”

“I can’t figure out how you mean that.”

“Wow.”

“What?”

“You’re a mess, that’s what I mean.”

“Oh, you’re such a nice boyfriend.”

“Anytime.”

Satoru’s lips carried a soft smile for the rest of practice, even when one of the kids nearly ran into him, before challenging him to a race.

Suguru smiled like an idiot when Satoru intentionally fell down, letting the kid gain victory.

//

December 1st, 2007

Nomura Hatsumi: Hello Geto. Just wanted to make sure we were still on schedule for later today? (9:46 AM)

yeah. (11:32 AM)
sorry for not responding to other texts, i forgot. (11:33 AM)

Nomura Hatsumi: No worries. I’ll see you later. (11:42 AM)

see you (11:43 AM)

//

Suguru tilted his head to the side, hoping to get a crank out of his neck, and ultimately failing.

Nomura looked at him, a little stubbornly. “Can I ask you about your relationship with Gojo Satoru?”

He glanced at her. “Sure.”

“How did you guys meet?”

Suguru hesitated for a second before snorting. “That’s a funny story.” He got a hum in response, figured that was enough, and kept talking. “I was, uh, skiing down the hill, not part of the team yet, trying to cross to reach another run, and he was practicing slalom with his teammates, ran straight into me.”

He looked up at her, and noticed that she was smiling, which, thank fuck. He’s glad he got someone willing to make slight reactions, because Shoko had mentioned how some of them tend not to react at all, and he didn’t want to talk to a goddamn robot.

“I think he yelled at me for maybe three minutes straight, and so I decided I’d sign up for the team next year to spite him.”

“How did that go?”

Suguru shrugged. “I beat him in half our races now, so I’d say pretty well.” He glanced at the clock. “He’s been my best friend ever since.”

“You don’t have to answer this if you don’t want to—” Much like every other question she’s asked. “—but I was wondering why you didn’t go to Nationals with him, if you guys are on par with each other.”

“Well—” He froze. Him not going national was something that he chose, he didn’t need to think about it, it was just what he knew was best for him. Not going to Olympics was what he knew he’d end up doing. “It just—”

Or maybe—

“I dunno. I never really wanted to.”

She let out an unsatisfied hum, and Suguru groaned.

“When it came around for looking out, reaching for other teams, both Shoko and I decided to go at our own pace, Satoru wanted to fuckin’ reach for the stars, or whatever. And then, for some reason, whenever the opportunity kept popping up, it became insanely harder to get out of bed.”

She tapped her knee. “Do you hold any animosity against Satoru for that?”

“No, of course not, I—”

‘or whatever.’

“He’s my best friend.”

“Okay.”

Okay.

“We don’t have to talk about this.”

“Thank you.”

She glanced at him, and then back down at her notepad. “I do want to keep talking about Gojo, though.”

Suguru kept staring at her. “Why?”

“Because he’s a huge part of your life.”

That didn’t matter. He was bound to be a huge part of Suguru’s life, another half that he’d never get rid of. Suguru didn’t want to get rid of Satoru.

“It sounds like you see him almost every day.”

“Is that a problem?” He also saw Shoko every day — legitimately, not almost — but that must have been different in so many more ways that Suguru couldn’t list.

“Not for me, it sounds like you guys have a healthy relationship, and you know how to maintain your feelings, balance each other out.”

“Good.”

Good.

Suguru thought he was here to talk about why he had episodes of not getting out of bed, but—

Whatever.

“So,” she said, taking a deep breath. “You’ve mentioned a recent development between you two.”

“Yeah, we just started dating.” No biggie.

“How have you been feeling since that?”

Suguru stared at the ceiling, perfectly normal and blank, erasing everything going on in his mind right now. “Relaxed,” he said, truthfully. “I was relaxed before, obviously, but it’s nice to just know.”

“Know what?”

“That I’m not completely alone— in liking him, I mean. Or. Sharing romantic feelings, I don’t know. Just, it’s nice to be able to—”

Love him.

Yeah, that.

“—care about him, properly, without worrying if he feels the same way, y’know?”

“Yeah.”

“Not to mention now that I know it’s not entirely going to waste, it’s so much easier.”

She tilted her head to the side. “What do you mean when you say ‘going to waste’?”

He shook his head. Right. Recap episode. “We originally started dating as a joke to piss off his parents, because they suck. And then he told me he was actually gay, and then he kissed me a couple months later.”

“So you’ve actually been dating for how long?”

“Uh, almost three months?”

“And?”

“Hm?”

“How much have you been sleeping in since then? Not getting out of bed?”

Ah.

“I mean, I dunno. About the same, I guess. It’s not a once-a-month occasion, it happens infrequently. I’d be surprised if it happened more than six times in a year. You can ask anybody, going more than three months without anything is normal.”

“Okay.” She nodded her head. “That’s good to hear.”

“Why?”

“Well, I’d be worried you guys were relying too much on each other.”

“Oh.”

Yeah, fair enough.

“When younger couples are very recently developed, and still figuring their understanding of each other out, very frequently hanging out, I’d be worried they were codependent.” She smiled. “It’s nice to know you guys have already developed that, it’s important.”

“Yeah, well,” he said, “since I’ve been dealing with him for my whole life, I think it kind of comes with the package deal.”

She raised her eyebrows.

“I mean that affectionately,” he quickly added on. “No worries.”

“Okay, that’s good, that’s good.”

“And,” he said. Might as well tackle it while he can. “I don’t hate him for going to Olympics or anything. I know that he’s not going to leave me behind, but—” A deep breath, and Suguru ran his hands up and down his face. “Sometimes I wonder if I screwed up by not going.”

She watched him for a while. “Okay.”

Okay.

“Why don’t we focus on you doing right by you?”

He nodded his head, willing to hear out her ideas. He had two kids to watch, and a boatload of emotional baggage to unpack. He had to. “I can try that.”

Suguru could manage that.

//

the CREW (™)
December 7th, 2007

satoru💕: where ARE YOU GUYS (5:34 PM)
satoru💕: shoko i have been ringing your doorbell for the last FIVE MINUTES (5:35 PM)

because if you actually read your texts you’d know we changed plans to meet at haibara’s place (5:37 PM)

haibby: come on gojo you should know better !!! (5:37 PM)

nanamin: you are an idiot (5:39 PM)

shoko💪: just hurry the fuck up and get over here (5:40 PM)

satoru💕: omw !!! (5:40 PM)

//

“Okay, okay,” said Satoru, resting his hands on Suguru’s shoulders. “You got this.”

“I do. You don’t.”

Satoru stared at him for a second, before pressing his lips to Suguru’s forehead. “One dinner with my parents.”

“Your parents hate me.”

“My parents hate everybody.”

Suguru clicked his tongue. Point proven.

Satoru’s hands dragged up to his neck, and stayed there for a minute. The car started to get cold, the heater no longer providing any decent warmth, and Satoru’s eyes glimmered. A light bloomed down onto them from the top of the garage door, letting the world around them burst into sense, and the snow on the grass was just a reminder of the chill.

Neither of them seemed to really care though, and it was clear Satoru was trying to prepare himself for a brief moment before they walked into the house. Suguru hummed and pressed his hands onto Satoru’s, leaning forward. Their noses brushed, and then their lips, and his heart thundered.

“Ready?” Suguru asked, lips grazing Satoru’s.

Satoru smiled, and pulled Suguru back into place.

“Now are you ready?” Suguru smirked.

Satoru’s smile didn’t fade. “Yup.”

When they got out of the car, the light in the living room turned on, and Suguru locked the car. Satoru walked on over, wrapping an arm around Suguru’s waist, and then they slowly stepped up the driveway.

The porch light turned on too, and Suguru leaned over to whisper into Satoru’s ear, “I think they’re watching us.”

Satoru hummed. “I have an idea.”

“Oh?”

When Satoru stopped, Suguru did too. He felt Satoru’s breath against his cheek, and turned to face him, unfazed when Satoru’s lips pressed against his.

He slipped into the motion, so familiar, so booming, and when Satoru pulled away, he grinned.

“You’re horrible,” he said, reaching a hand up to press his thumb to Satoru’s bottom lip.

“They’re worse.”

Satoru’s eyes glistened in the porch light, and Suguru wondered if they could just stay there. Satoru’s breath against his hand was comforting. He wouldn’t mind standing there for the rest of eternity if he could just be rewarded with that.

Unfortunately, though, the front door opened. Suguru’s hand dropped, but Satoru’s stayed wrapped around his waist as they looked over, Satoru’s mom staring them down, an unpleasant look on her face.

“We’re not stupid, Satoru.”

Suguru looked back over, trying to bury his smirk, and found himself pleased by the fact that Satoru was already wearing one of his own.

“That’s what they all say.”

The retort had his mom digging moons into her palm, fists curled tight. Suguru raised his eyebrows at the clear display, but they walked on forward.

After tossing their shoes to the side, jackets pulled off and dragged into the dining room, where Suguru’s would probably be stripped for anything intimidating, only to come up empty. They stepped into the living room, soft socks letting Satoru slide on the floor, letting out a loud yelp. Suguru quickly grabbed his hand before he could run into a lamp and shatter it, but Satoru only took that as an invitation to drag them closer to each other.

In the dim lighting of the TV, Satoru twirled him with his hand, and Suguru laughed, mind off somewhere distant.

“We’re gonna dance?” Suguru asked.

Satoru shook his head. “We’re watching a movie.”

He looked at the entrance to the living room, face struck into place. Suguru followed his gaze.

“Guess we need to settle on a movie, then,” he whispered, exchanging a quick glance with Satoru.

Something tugged his hand, and he was pulled backwards onto the couch as Satoru’s parents took the loveseat on the other end of the bedroom.

Satoru’s father asked for the remote, and Suguru tossed it on over, unsurprised when, after five gleefully boring minutes, they had finally settled on some ridiculously boring straight romance movie — probably a frail attempt at correcting Satoru’s sexuality while it appeared they still could.

Tucked into his side, Satoru’s breath fell onto his neck, a soft promise and a blanket of warmth from the chill that filled the rest of the room, and his hand traced around Suguru’s palm as the intro played.

Suguru toyed with the idea that this was all just to mess with his parents, when Satoru whispered in his ear, voice low. He could feel Satoru’s lips hover over his neck, slight movement as he murmured, “For Christmas this year, I want a ring pop.”

The thrumming of the introduction covered up Suguru’s breathy laugh, and he let his fingers tangle with Satoru’s.

There was, due to their younger years, a faint nostalgia that was carried with ring pops, and Satoru’s inability to go a year without mentioning them, reminding Suguru to get one.

Back when they were about nine, a little bit after the start of their second year together, they tied for first for their age group in a race against a nearby hill. Suguru remembered the feeling of euphoria when the day after, at the final practice, a grill set up in the back, mountains of bags of candy from the parents, he had held out a ring to Satoru.

The matching one, already on his ring finger, had caught Satoru’s attention, eyes flicking back and forth between the two, and he smiled before Suguru could even speak.

“I’ll stay with you forever,” he said.

Suguru had grinned.

Frankly, it took a solid five years for him to admit to Satoru that he had originally just wanted to give Satoru a ring pop before they ran out, and wasn’t actually proposing. Satoru had ignored him for a week after.

Suguru had, eventually, walked all the way to Satoru’s house, unable to drive with his parents out of town, and climbed up the tree to Satoru’s window, still being light enough for the branches to carry him.

Even with Satoru glaring at him through the window, Suguru had pounded on the window, barely clinging onto the branch beneath him. He was outside in negative six Celsius, nothing but a hoodie, fourteen years old, determined as hell to get Satoru to listen to him.

And, truthfully, he must have been long gone for four years now because the second Satoru had opened the window he said, “I’ll stay with you forever,” and didn’t think twice of it.

Treading carefully, he managed to sneak into Satoru’s room without breaking any limbs, and Satoru’s parents found them in the morning, backs pressed against each other, blanket lazily flung over them both.

They probably weren’t thinking so far ahead that a relationship between them ever even seemed in the cards, but they were tied together from the moment they met. Suguru was fine with that. He would always be fine with that, honestly.

Even with Satoru pressed to his side, breath rolling shivers down his spine.

One of the characters made an offhand joke, and Satoru let out a quiet laugh. Suguru squeezed his hand.

Satoru’s hand drew up to comb through Suguru’s hair, thumb skimming the back of his neck, tangles falling apart with each brush.

Eyes burned into the side of his head, a threat buried somewhere underneath it.

Suguru couldn’t bring himself to care.

Satoru stood strong in the face of his own parents. He knew all their buttons, and he pressed them, a wicked grin on his face.

It was those parts that had Suguru grinning, an idiot at heart, every time it happened. 

The rest of the movie was spent like that, grasping onto each other, and when the credits rolled, Suguru looked over. Satoru’s breathing had slowed down long ago, so he was unsurprised to see him sleeping, eyes shut, arms loosely wrapped around Suguru’s waist.

Satoru’s parents stalked out of the room without a word, and Suguru stayed there, sitting on the couch as his eyes drifted shut. He pressed one last kiss to Satoru’s cheek before he fell asleep.

//

February 8th, 2008

satoru💕: this therapy shit is DRAINING (3:32 PM)

well what do you expect since about (3:34 PM)
18 years of emotional baggage is being unpacked (3:35 PM)

satoru💕: this was a mistake. im going to cry (3:35 PM)

do you want yaga to give us the kids (3:36 PM)

satoru💕: yes! Yes I Do (3:36 PM)
satoru💕: it’s just so. (3:36 PM)
satoru💕: anyways. i am leaving tomorrow. can we meet up? (3:37 PM)

i’ll be seeing you off at the airport tomorrow (3:38 PM)

satoru💕: suguru. (3:38 PM)

yes id love to see you (3:39 PM)

//

“Dude,” Shoko said, nudging him. “Here, look.”

Suguru followed her finger, pointed up at the TV, where there was an overview of the final minutes between Canada and Russia, Canada beating their asses seven to three.

“Yikes.”

“They’re only in the second period.”

Suguru squinted at the screen. “Holy shit.”

“Bet Canada’s gonna win finals.”

“Why the fuck would I bet against you if you’re right ?”

Shoko snickered as they kept walking down the hall, where there seemed to be a shitton of open hotel rooms, and the hockey game playing on every single one. A loud cheer emerged from one room, so Shoko pulled up her phone to check the scores, unsurprised to find it unchanged.

“Probably just a nice save or something,” she said, stopping in front of a door. Suguru glanced up at the number, 638, to commit it to memory as Shoko unlocked the door and opened up, waving off another guy who looked to eager to actually want to talk to them. “All the fucking translators are driving me insane.”

Suguru hummed in response as he kicked off his shoes. When he looked at the rest of the room, it was two beds, a TV, already opened up to the hockey game — to which Shoko scoffed and flicked it off — and a mini fridge in the corner.

They set their stuff off to the side, and a loud clamoring came from the other side of the wall.

After about maybe two minutes of attempted — and failed — silence, Suguru said, “I’m thinking about shooting myself.”

“Now now, Suguru,” she said. “Don’t kill yourself three days before Satoru competes, that’s mean. Wait till after he loses.”

“Now look who’s being harsh,” he said, grabbing an extra pillow and tossing it over to where Shoko was laying down on her bed. Without a second thought, she knocked it back down, and the thumping of the TV from behind all walls resumed.

“I can’t stand this,” she said. “Where is the asshole?”

Two seconds later, there was a knock at the door. The second Suguru swung open the door, Satoru barged in.

“Fucking finally, some peace and quiet.”

“Are you allowed to be here?” Shoko asked.

Suguru flicked her forehead as he sat down next to her. “She doesn’t—”

“No.”

Expected.

Satoru flung himself onto the bed next to Suguru, reaching to wrap his arms around Suguru’s waist. Shoko exchanged a look with him as Satoru pushed himself up, burying his face into Suguru’s neck.

“Watch it,” she said.

Shoko couldn’t care less.

Satoru let out a large breath, tickling the skin underneath his ear, and Suguru smiled softly, reaching a hand up to bury into Satoru’s hair.

“How bad is it?” Suguru asked.

Satoru groaned and mumbled something.

“We can’t hear you, dipshit,” said Shoko.

“Horrible.”

He escaped the crook of Suguru’s shoulder and finally showed his face again, pressing his lips to the underside of Suguru’s jaw.

“When are you racing?” Suguru asked.

“Three days, slalom at one.”

Though he already knew this.

“Didn’t GS go today?” Shoko asked. “How’d that go?”

“Alright. Kuroi got bronze.”

“Seriously? That’s fuckin’ awesome.” Suguru asked. “There were some tough skiers.”

“Yeah, she was bummed for a bit, thought she could keep silver this year or something, but she’s chill now.” Satoru let out a long sigh. “Can we just sleep?”

Suguru smiled. “Yeah.”

Even if sleep didn’t last long for any of them, and half the night would be just spent laying there, Satoru whispering nonsense into the air, Shoko retorting with empty sentences. Even if Satoru would end up jumping back and forth between the beds like they were ten years old in another prefecture of the country for another race. Even if he nearly hit his head, and Shoko had to pull him down to the floor so there weren’t any grievous injuries the night before a race.

Even if they would repeat this mantra every night until Satoru’s final race, and sweaty palms would rest in the bed between them. Suguru would still take it, and he would still relax, his back pressed against Satoru’s chest, a promise between them that the rest of the world never got to uncover.

Satoru would sneak out of the room that morning, and when a housekeeper bumped into him, he would apologize, and admit that he was saying goodbye to family before they took off. The housekeeper would ask why his family was leaving so soon, and he’d say, “No, they just have to leave before all the racers are done.” Which would be a truth, because after Satoru’s final race, Suguru and Shoko would have to take off as soon as they could.

His physical family would be breathing down his neck, criticizing and chastising him, praising him if he did anything better than best. No less.

Suguru accepted all these moments though, as he and Shoko finished tossing all their clothes in backpacks, minimizing everything they brought with them. When they were checking out at the front desk, a couple words tripped over, but calmly happening all the same amidst the crowd, Shoko held up her phone.

“Canada won women’s hockey.”

“This is a surprise to who?” he asked, giving the lady at the front desk a grateful smile before they walked out of the building. “Who were they up against?”

“US. Two to zero. Had a couple rookies this year.”

Suguru looked down at the photo she was holding up, and picked up on a girl easily. “Satoru was talking about her.”

“Hilary Knight,” Shoko said, the name heavy. “Yeah, she seems cool.”

“Who won speed skating?”

Shoko glared at him. “I think you know the answer to that.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

When they showed up to the front, Tengen and Yaga were standing there, talking about who knows what, as Shoko’s eyes roamed, looking for someone. Suguru finally managed to squeeze his way through the crowd to meet Yaga, Shoko holding onto the back of his bag.

“Hey,” he said, shoving Shoko to the side so she knew not to hold onto him. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

Yaga stared at him. “Right.”

“Have you seen his parents?” Shoko asked.

Tengen shook his head, but Yaga nodded. “Down over there, by the exit.”

Shoko hummed.

“Why?”

When Shoko didn’t say anything, Suguru let out a long sigh. “She’s plotting their murder.”

“Yaga needs to be my alibi, don’t tell him.”

Suguru and Yaga exchanged a look, but didn’t say anything. Tengen only held out a hand in Suguru’s direction, and he shook it.

“I hope to see you guys some time in the future,” he said, waiting for Shoko to shake his hand. Suguru saw her hand twitch, motioning towards her pocket for a cigarette without actually moving, and they both stared at Tengen’s hand until it pulled back.

Suguru stared down at the snow in front of him.

“Eh,” said Shoko. “You’ll have to see about this asshole.”

Suguru nudged her, but smiled softly.

“That might be for the best,” Yaga noted. “Satoru’s bad, but Suguru’s only his enabler.”

Tengen stared at him a little bit longer, and Suguru found his hand suddenly twitching for a cigarette as well. There was a beat of silence before Yaga finally waved his hand towards the top, where a skier flew over the hill, just barely managing to make a turn in time.

Shoko winced as he nearly missed a pole.

“They’re starting.”

Suguru took a deep breath.

What a hell of a long few hours, but towards the end, Satoru flew through his second run, and Suguru could see the way he slid to a stop, about two meters from the fence where they were standing.

He lifted his goggles up, a grin on his face. They all knew well enough before the last of the competitors even went.

Suguru watched as he clicked off his skis, and Shoko’s clapping, the smirk on her face, Tengen rushing over to meet him by the exit, Yaga letting out a loud whistle, Suguru cheering like a goddamn maniac.

“We need to see him, shit,” Suguru whispered, trying to follow Tengen. Shoko grabbed his hand, and he almost stopped, but she nudged him forward. 

They just nearly scrambled to get to the exit, and Satoru was stopped there, a train of skiers sitting down after finishing their second race. There was loud clamoring, and Suguru recognized a select couple of voices he wanted to burn out, but he and Shoko just about trampled Satoru.

Shoko stepped back, a rare grin on her face as he let out a deep breath, and Suguru stood right in front of him.

“Holy shit,” said Satoru. “Aren’t you supposed to be heading out?”

“We can—” Suguru shook his head, staring at Satoru in disbelief. “We can wait.”

Satoru shook his head. “Okay— alright.” Suguru pressed his hands to either side of Satoru’s face, watching the way his smirk formed. He pulled away and wrapped them around his neck, pulling him in tight.

“You’re fucking insane,” he said, pulling back.

Shoko rolled her eyes, and Suguru caught her glaring over to the side. He followed her gaze to see Satoru’s parents watching them, unwillingly being presented with the entire situation.

He heard a camera shutter somewhere in the background, and suddenly was presented with the world again, but couldn’t wipe the grin off his face, Satoru standing like a hero in front of him, looking so goddamn accomplished.

“Okay, Suguru,” said Shoko. “We really do have to go now.”

Right, yeah, the flight, of course.

Suguru pursed his lips as he took one last look at Satoru.

“You,” he said, “are—”

“Insane, I know.”

Suguru shrugged. “I was going for magnificent, but sure, whatever you want.”

Satoru smirked and wrapped his free arm around Suguru’s shoulders, before shoving him away.

“Don’t miss your flight, you asshole!”

Suguru caught one last glimpse of Satoru before he was motioned away by his parents and Tengen, other teammates slapping him on the back, before turning around to settle his arm on Shoko’s shoulders.

When he looked down, she was smiling softly, a mimic of his own crazy, elated by everything that just happened.

“Chasing Gojo like that was a grand move, just so y’know.”

Suguru shrugged. “They already know.”

“You’re lucky he never cared.”

“I know.”

The whole drive to the airport, Satoru was blowing up his phone in short two minute intervals, whenever he could, and loads of pictures, exclamation marks, all caps declarations of love, and a quick reminder for Suguru and Shoko to get ready for 2012, the next four years were for them to prepare.

When they pulled up to the plane just a couple minutes before boarding, Shoko took a deep breath, and said, “Never chase that idiot after an Olympic game ever again .”

Suguru smirked, knowing damn well the truth of what would happen, knowing damn well that Shoko would follow him straight into that mess, if she wasn’t suddenly part of the Olympic games herself.

“You keep telling yourself that,” he said.

//

the GANG (™)
February 29th, 2008

satoru💕: on the plane now! (5:38 PM)
satoru💕: [photo.jpg] (5:39 PM)
satoru💕: look at the medal dude it’s so cool (5:39 PM)
satoru💕: start of a collection i bet (5:40 PM)

shoko doesnt wanna say so but she misses you (5:42 PM)

shoko💪: that’s a lie i miss your gold (5:45 PM)
shoko💪: might have to get some of my own (5:46 PM)

satoru💕: LETS FUCKING GOOO (5:46 PM)

we’ll see you when you get back doofus (5:49 PM)

satoru💕: <3 (5:49 PM)

//

There’s a photo on the wall in their house, printed out on regular printing paper, but framed like a treasure. Sitting on a snowy bench, hot chocolates in hand, Satoru and Suguru are leaning in next to each other, Satoru whispering a secret, a promise, the possibility of a thousand different endings, as their hands remain locked between them.

Written on the bottom corner in familiar chicken scratch: taken by mama geto