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“i’d do anything for you.” not in the sense that he’d offer the world, not in the sense that he’d take the role of a deity, and geto suguru definitely does not mean it in the way an enchanting fairytale would unfold.
he means it with his hands encased in yours, a quiet pause and a soft sigh, he means it with eyes that speak of nothing but his adoration, and a kiss in the forehead that no other translations could have possibly better proclaim the love he has for you.
"that's—" you chuckle, a demure blush staining your cheeks as you stumble through your words "—suguru…”
that's so sweet. is what you would like to say. yet you keep these words and instead, offer a gentle squeeze of his hand as you stare. the silence allows you to feel, in a way that you can also hear the crackling fire by the furnace, his calm breaths, the rise and fall of his chest, his touches you can never get enough of, and to feel the love your heart almost always swells of.
loving him is warm, loving him is sweet, loving him is as easy as breathing.
he smiles tenfold, his voice far quieter than a whisper. "say my name again, please."
and you did, for every time you utter his name,you grant him a careful but loving kiss on every part of his face, (he hums and chuckles in between) down to the crook of his neck, the slope between his shoulders, his colarbone, and then—to his heart, you rest your head on his chest where you would count the beats as you close your eyes.
the sound of it is what completes your world. it is what brings your own heart a place you call your home, it's not yours nor his alone, but rather, it is ours.
…for the sound to leave your world would mean a home without residence, a home that serves no purpose. a home with no warmth.
(such a dream should not be chased when you know it's not real.)
when suguru geto settles his hand on your cheek, from the fall of your name on his lips, your frantic blinks, the deafening and looming large siren in your ears, it all sinks in.
"what did i say?" he chuckles, dry and resigned, "i'd do anything for you…"
"…what?" your voice trembles under the crashing weight of the sight in front of you, your lungs incapable of taking air in, shallow breaths. harshly you clutch his chest, force you head to hear a beat. you only hear the person in your head: it's chanting in denial, it's smashing plates and loud shutting of doors and it's screaming in pain until it swallows you whole.
you search for an answer in his eyes. suguru geto, always been the answer to you, no one else, no other answer to seek upon other than him.
the truth: the abyss staring back at you offers none.