Archive of Our Own ^beta

Satoru Gojo wouldn’t describe himself as spoiled. Pretty much everyone else would but he personally, wouldn’t. It just made sense after all, being the strongest, the bearer of Six Eyes and limitless, his birthday literally marked a new era within the Jujutsu world. That’s just important, world changing levels of importance, Satoru could hardly be blamed for being treated as such.   

Besides he’s seen movies, alright? Seen the typical act of a spoiled brat. The whining, the stomping feet, the shouting, the tantrums thrown to get their ways and the ways being got. That’s spoiled. Gojo Satoru, realistically, is not that. Going by stats alone he's only ever thrown a tantrum once and quickly realized he would not be as successful as his on screen counterparts. 

He can’t remember what it was about really, too young to remember the specifics. Maybe he wanted to stay outside longer in the Gojo estates grand gardens, maybe he wanted just a slice more of the dessert they had that night, maybe he wanted to go to sleep instead of train for the fourth hour in a row. He can't remember, but he remembers the refusal, the deepening of the perpetual scowl of his father’s face, the acrid disgust in his mothers eyes, as if ashamed her six year old son could ever behave so disgracefully. That’s what she had called him at least, disgraceful. 

“That’s not how to get what you want,” sneered at him as his wrist was clasped in one of her strong hands. He remembers the jolt of fear in his body, the blur in his eyes as he’s dragged to his room, the silence that follows and drags for days as they leave him in his room, punished. 

It’s not a new punishment, and soon he’d grow to old for it, grow used to the coldness of his room and ignore the aching that would torment him to be out of it, to see someone, anyone, to speak out loud and be answered, to feel even the gaze of someone else on his skin. 

He doesn’t throw a tantrum again, because he’s a fast learner, because his mother’s words echo in his head. 

That’s not how to get what you want. 

She must be right, afterall he didn't get what he wanted. So he did what any child, as special and honored as himself would do, he learned how .

 It grew easier, as he grew older, stronger. With each new skill mastered his requests were resisted less and less. More prizes for his honed talent than anything else. He was never given more than what was asked and knew to never ask for more than what would be given. 

Another hour out in the summer sun, granted. A full bar of chocolate instead of the few usual pieces, sure but only after his meal. A place in his parent’s bed after a nightmare, don't be ridiculous Satoru and sent right back to his room.

It seemed to work, good for everyone involved, but you can only tell a child they are special so many times before it gets to their head. Before it sinks through their skin, wraps itself onto their very bones, soaks in their blood and tinges the breath sucked into their lungs and back out into the air as special. As he learned, as he grew, and his power grew beneath his fingertips and buzzed in his ears, everyone else around seemed to shrink. 

Normal and boring, small and beneath him. Unremarkable, in a sense, useless. Nothing at all like him, who changed the world by simply breathing in it. A fact that was undeniable, documented and revered by Jujutsu society. A fact that straightened his spine as he walked, sharpened his grin as he talked, blazed potent in his eyes and wore in a blinding white crown on his head. And just as that fact solidified in his steps, they sent him away. Outside the walls of the Gojo estate, where he knew everyone, where he knew the rules, and knew his place in the world when the world was just the corners of the estate and the acres in between to Jujutsu tech. 

It's not malicious, it's simply the next obvious step in his training, in his upbringing. Another stepping stone on his journey to truly be the best. Still, standing in his pristinely untouched, new, dorm room. It feels malicious, cruel even. The four walls of the little room grate on him, as his head is flooded with information, dark sunglasses perched on top of his head as he takes in the lackluster room. Outside it's sunny, the sun heats the stone pathways and reflects off the bright green grass. The campus is surrounded in lush forests and Satoru can hear the birds chirp softly as they fly from branch to branch. Outside he can feel the cursed energy of his new teacher walking away from his door, further down the hallway where a different cursed energy flutters against his. Another student, Satoru guesses and realizes all at once, just how out of his depth he was. Something he cant discern from panic or excitement thrums in his veins, hot and quick, his breaths come sharper from his nose and he slowly realizes his hands have started to shake. 

He strains to hear Yaga’s faraway voice, no doubt giving the other first year the same introductory conversation he gave Satoru, he can't hear a reply back but hears the soft shut of the dorm door, hears footsteps lead away from them and Satoru swears if he tried he could hear the feet of his fellow first year moving along the hardwood floors. The soft tack and shuffle of moving in. 

Sounds of life, Satoru realizes. He never noticed how quiet his own house was, how despite the amount of people in the estate, he never really talked to them, let alone heard them. His head spins at the small sounds that come through from his neighbor, he lays on his untouched bed, eyes closed as a migraine settles between his eyes. 

The world has grown along with him, he realizes, it offers him so much more than an extra thirty minutes in the gardens and it's all there for his taking, a stupid revelation yet one all the same. One he cant linger on because the very next day, it shrinks completely again. 

Introduced on a dewy spring morning, Satoru Gojo's world shrinks and stretches along the width of Getou Suguru’s back and down to the cigarette ashed fingertips of Shoko Ieiri . 

—

He doesn’t make the best impression. Which surprises him and annoys him, because his very being is usually met with much more fanfare than the slight nod and firm blink he receives as Yaga introduces them all. There’s usually a lot more bowing involved and less persistent eye contact. 

“Do you think the glasses inside thing makes you look cooler or are you trying to go for the douche look?” Ieiri says around the eraser tip of a pencil between her teeth. Her head is leaned against her hand, looking bored yet amused, eyes lazily tracing up and down Satoru’s face. Satoru huffs, crosses his hands over his chest but doesn’t deny the gentle warmth that traces through his skin as Ieiri looks him over. 

“Ieiri.” Yaga reprimands, the girl in question shrugs, kicks long legs underneath her table as she faces forward, eyes no longer lingering on Satoru’s frame. Satoru pouts a bit, balls up a piece of paper in his hands and flicks it at her, landing with a soft thump against her temple. 

“Hey!” Satoru smirks as she yells out and whistles under his breath, glancing around as if looking for the balled up paper pitcher. There's a slight snicker from Getou, sat at Satoru’s left and Satoru can't seem to fight the smile that turns up his face at the sound. He glances to find Getou already looking his way, head shaking slightly but entertained. The feel of his eyes on Satoru is different than Ieiri’s but no less warm, Satoru finds he more than welcomes it, he’ll worry about the naiveness of that moment later. But for that moment, he lets himself exist, exist and take space, to be seen by those around him and rather than seen through. 

“So it’s a yes on the douche aesthetic?” Getou asks and Yaga sighs loudly as Ieiri giggles into her palm. Satoru wonders why he doesn't feel as offended as he should, why instead of anger rising in his throat it's a laugh, loud and bubbly. Getou has a nice voice, he thinks. Sweet toned and tender. Different from the deep boom of Yaga or the high timber of Ieiri’s. All of which are nice, different, new . 

Satoru wonders if the novelty of being outside of his usual place in the estate will ever wear off, if he’ll grow used to and uninterested in his fellow classmates as he did to his own parents and servants, if he’ll ever stop feeling the heat of an unfamiliar pair of eyes on him. 

He hopes not.

—

“So you're basically untouchable?” Getou had asked, simplified the long winded explanation Satoru had just given as Yaga called on them to explain their cursed techniques. Satoru rolls his eyes but grins. 

“So simple,” He complains slightly. “But-” he bats away Ieiri’s wiggling finger that threatened to poke right between his ribs. 

“Ouch,” Ieiri says, straight faced as she cradles her hand. “But you just touched me,” She points out, reaching her hand out again only to be stopped mid air, this time poking against Infinity. He blows a raspberry at her. 

“Yeah, I can’t have it on all the time yet. Between that and Six Eyes, it drains me. But I’ve gotten better at it!” He grins proudly, and exerts a bit more cursed energy, enough to push the barrier of Infinity pushing Ieiri’s fingers outward. Ieiri’s eyes widened at the feel of it before placing her hand back in her lap. 

“Cool,” she says. And despite Satoru being no stranger to praise, his heart sings with the word, even more with the nod of agreement Getou gives in acknowledgement. 

—

Though Satoru wouldn't describe himself as spoiled, he would use the word impatient.

One would say that's probably a product of how he was raised but he really doesn't care for much introspection, what he does care about is how easy touch seems to come to his fellow classmates.

Mainly, how he wants that to include him, and urgently. 

Satoru didn't think he would care, a smaller voice, that if pressed to identify sounds like his mother, tells him he shouldn't care.

Shouldn't care that after the discussion of their cursed techniques, his fellow classmates seem to act like he does have Infinity on at all times. Always a few feet away from him, never brushing shoulders, let alone actually ever reaching out to touch him. Save for the few times Yaga has them spar, they dont touch Satoru. At least not in the way they so easily touch each other. 

Not in the way Satoru realizes, he’s been absolutely starved for. 

He guesses he just never noticed he was going without it, so he never cared to really ask for it. A touch. A simple graze of his cheek by his mother’s thumb, his father’s fingers ruffling through his hair, a kiss to his forehead as one of his caretakers sees him to his bed for the night. He never asked for the touches, Maybe he never asked because he knew the rejection he’d get, reasoning away the sharp hollowness that filled him before it had a chance to take root. Besides, he never saw his parent’s partaking in any sort of affection, so it obviously must not be important. A necessity. 

He shouldn't care. 

Yet. He catches the way Ieiri taps Getou on the shoulder afterclass, the way they huddle together to light a cigarette, hiding the flame from the wind in between their hands. Hands that bat against each other as the cigarette is passed back and forth. Between elbows that knock into each other’s space when they laugh. He watches the way Ieiri tugs on the stray lock of hair that isn't tied back in Getou’s hair, he realizes he aches to know what it feels like beneath his fingers. To know what Ieiri’s fingers feel like tugging at his own white locks. 

He shouldn't care, but he does. And when the cigarette is finally stamped out between them and Satoru makes a joke about their breath, he goes back to his room wishing they had offered him a drag. Let their fingers bump together, feel the heat of the lit ashes trickle down to the floor, feel the vibration of their laughter against his own shaking shoulders. 

All at once his wants are flipped. No longer is it just more walks along the garden or pushed back curfews. Satoru wants, craves, needs more than anything, the easy companionship his classmates seemed to find in each other. Satoru wants Ieiri to tap him on the shoulder, an invitation to stand outside with her and smoke. Satoru wants Getou to lean closer to his desk, long bangs falling around his cheeks as he asks for help on one of their homework questions. 

Satoru knows he is seen and heard but he wants more. He wants to be touched and he wants it, he realizes, more than anything he's ever wanted. Enough to consider going back to his original idea, to stomp and cry and whine but that didn't bear any results anyways the first time and he also isn't six years old. 

He isn't six years old and the rules are different now. 

He isn't eight years old and there's no one to banish him to his room this time. 

He is nearly sixteen and far away from the Gojo estate, where he knows exactly what to do and what to say to get what he wants. Knows the game to play.

But there aren't any games to play here, at least not any that he recognizes, so instead.

He asks.

Fear shoved down into his belly, fingers made to lay loose at his side as he holds back on the shaking that threatens to overtake his hands. He asks, with a pulse of curse energy dragged down to his core and Infinity dropped completely. He meets the widened gazes of his classmates as he outstretches his hand towards them one cloudless night. 

“Can I try?” 

Ieiri’s cigarette is lit against her lips, the half empty box still between her fingers along with Getou’s white lighter. The lack of his Infinity is not unnoticed but none of them mention it, Ieiri only smiles after a beat, eyes bright as she speaks.

“The great Gojo heir is quite the delinquent huh?” words muffled slightly around the cigarette and puff of smoke she lets out. Satoru rolls his eyes as he steps between them, Getou moving slightly to make space for him. 

“Just wanna see what all the fuss is about,” He says, trying not to tremble as Ieiri passes it to him. Her fingernails graze his pinky for a second, Ieiri’s hand is cold from the night air but soft, Satoru wonders if that's due to her cursed technique or just her girly lotion. 

“Alright, do you need an explanation? You're more of a hands on learner, no?” Ieiri asks, leaning back against the wall and flicking the lighter a few times. 

“Not like your explanations would do literally any good,” Getou says and Satoru laughs. “Just inhale, it's not gonna burn like you think it will but it’ll feel a little weird. Oh, and don't hold it in, just in and out.” Getou offers and Satoru can see the sincerity in his words so he holds back a sarcastic reply for once. Only nodding and bringing the cigarette to his lips and following the advice. 

Getou’s right it doesn't burn, it is weird, and as he exhales he chokes a bit, sending him spiraling into a coughing fit. Embarrassing really, he thinks at least. He probably should feel more embarrassed, especially with the way they both chuckle at him, but he can't find it in himself to feel it. 

Not when one of Getou’s big hands comes to pat across his back and when one of Ieiri’s  fingers plucks the cigarette from his fingers and pats along his shoulder softer but in tune with Getou. 

He’s warm all over, even as tears from his coughing cloud his eyes and the chill wind gusts against his cheeks. 

“Oh wow those are bright.”

His sunglasses are pushed up into his hair to wipe at his tears and he smiles at Ieiri’s words. 

“Do you do the thing where you sneeze a bunch of times when you step in direct sunlight? That happens to people with light eyes.”

“Come on, it's not like those are just normal people eyes.” Getou laughs under his breath. Satoru smiles wider both at the acknowledgement of his specialness and the fact that he can feel Getou’s shoulders shake against his right arm, a point of contact.  

“Still though,” Ieiri contemplates around a puff of her cigarette, before placing it back in Satoru’s hands and poking him to pass it along to Getou. “If you open your eyes in a dark room, would you illuminate it?” 

“Ieiri-” Getou takes the cigarette, fingers bumping into Satoru’s own, Satoru watches the way his chest expands with the drag. 

“Yes!” He lies, grinning. 

“Wha- wait what the fuck really?” Getou’s words stumble around the smoke that pours out of his mouth, peering at him with wide eyes. It makes him laugh. 

“That's kinda creepy,” Ieiri chuckles and smiles at the pout that forms on Satoru’s lips. 

“Hey, no it’s not, it's useful!”

“No she's right, that's kinda creepy.”

“You're kinda creepy!” He bites back, a childish retort to his own ears, made even more childish by the tongue he sticks out at both of them. He slides his glasses back down his face and reaches for the cigarette once more because he's Satoru Gojo god damn it and he refuses to be bad at anything, let alone smoking. 

—

That fateful cigarette seems to open the doors wide open to Satoru’s wants being fulfilled to the fullest. He doesn't even care that at its core, it's because his infinity was down, his barrier, literal physical boundary, put away to let others in. It's too on the nose, it makes Satoru laugh almost.

He knows he should care, that he shouldn't have given into such a redundant whim in the first place. Because wanting your classmates to clap you on the shoulder after a question well answered is just not a good enough reason to lower an impenetrable technique. To give way to weakness.

But, as Getou’s hand clamps around his shoulder in greeting and Ieiri nudges him with her foot during tests for answers, Satoru thinks it's well worth it and for a while, it's enough.

Enough to satisfy that gaping starving hole in his chest that he hadn't known he housed. Their touches become commonplace, as the school year goes on and they grow closer. 

“Scooch,” Shoko says one Friday night, they have no missions set for the weekend and a mercifully light homework load so they've piled onto the common room couch, ready to blow through the horror movie VHS collection that seem to have not been updated for years. The couch is too small for all three of them, especially with the growth spurt that has hit Satoru, leaving him all long legged and uncoordinated, but they make it work. 

Shoko smells like smoke, sterile alcohol wipes and jasmine. She shoves Satoru towards the middle of the couch, taking his previous place by the armrest, she tucks her feet underneath herself and curls herself against Satoru’s ribs. Shoko runs cold, colder than the other two, a fact she likes to remind them off every once in a while by sticking her frozen hands or feet against whatever body part of theirs she can reach at the moment. She’s cold against Satoru, chilled even more by the winter wind she had been previously standing in to smoke. He kicks out his feet to poke softly at Suguru’s back, who sat on the floor in front of the old TV, rewinding the VHS tapes diligently. 

“I know for a fact Mei Mei watches movies in here, how is it that these tapes are never rewound,” Suguru complained under his breath before turning around at Satoru’s touch. 

Suguru is pretty, Satoru knows this. Realistically everyone who has ever laid eyes on him knows that but Satoru feels he can really solidify that claim. With his Six Eyes and all, he can see Suguru in ways no one else can and his cursed energy is just like him in that regard, pretty.

He hasn't told him that, not yet at least. Not that he's ever planning on it really because that would be weird to say outloud and he doesn't even truly know what to do with the fact that he does think Suguru is pretty. Pretty in a different way than he finds Shoko or the model posters he hangs up in his room and puts as his lock screen. A dilemma for a different day , he thinks for the fifteenth day in a row. 

“Pass me the blanket,” He says as Suguru looks up at him from the floor, violet eyes meeting his own sunglass covered gaze. His hair is down, barely grazing his shoulders, messy and tangled from the day. But Pretty. Undeniably so. 

“Give me a second,” Suguru nods, turning back around to pop one of the wound tapes into the VCR, before grabbing two of the blankets scattered around the room and taking a seat at Satoru’s other side. Satoru tosses one blanket over Shoko, who pulls it around her completely and up to her nose, essentially leaving only her eyes visible. She hums in appreciation of it and Satoru smiles as he feels it vibrate against his side. 

“What are we watching?” She asks, words muffled by the fuzzy blanket. 

Suguru shuffles next to him, getting comfortable, pulling the other blanket around his shoulders, pushing Satoru slightly forward to drape the excess around his shoulders as well. Satoru attributes the heat that rises to his cheeks to the sudden extra fabric around him and nothing else. 

“The third exorcist movie,” Suguru answers back as the movie begins to play. “Even though I wanted to watch Constantine, but they only released the dvd version for it.” 

“Third? Did we even watch the other two?” Shoko asks around a yawn.

“Yeah we did, but they were kinda boring so we fell asleep, remember?” Satoru replies and Shoko makes a noise in remembrance. 

“We should probably stop watching horror movies since they can't actually scare us y’know, considering our current career path,” Shoko says, making the other two chuckle. 

“Right, that's why I wanted to watch Constantine, at least Keanu Reeves is pretty to look at,” Suguru says and Satoru’s breath catches in his lungs. Dilemma for a different day, but most definitely tomorrow.

“Really? He has kind of a wet dog look going on in the trailers,” Shoko says, burrowing herself more into Satoru’s side, causing him to push closer to Suguru, who moves closer to accommodate. 

“Wet dog?” Suguru repeats, as he brings his legs up and across Satoru’s own, tucking his feet beneath Shoko and planting his cheek on Satoru’s shoulder. He brings a hand up to one of Suguru’s knees, and plays with a loose thread on his pants. Suguru bats lightly at his fingers and Satoru laughs softly, leaving the loose thread alone to simply rest his hand there.

“Yeah, like sorta pathetic and sweaty,” Shoko adds and Satoru giggles as Suguru makes a noise of complaint. “But if that's what you're into I don't judge. I liked him better in The Matrix.” 

“Are you sure it wasn't Trinity you liked?” Suguru asks and Satoru doesn't need to look to know he’s smirking, it makes him smile. 

“Please, a woman in all leather? Of course I liked her,” Shoko replies and Satoru nods along with her words. 

“They were both hot in that,” Satoru adds and Suguru shifts slightly next to him. 

“Maybe you just have a thing for leather,” Shoko adds. 

“Mmm, maybe!” He grins. “Can't wait to see what Exorcist the third reveals to me!”

“Don't be disgusting,” Suguru groans into his shoulder but Satoru can hear the smile in his words just as Shoko laughs next to him. 

“Exorcist the third,” she mumbles, amused.

Satoru is warm all over, he feels full, sated as if he'd eaten a meal big enough for ten. He lets the movie wash over them, laughing at Shoko’s jokes and Suguru’s snide comments. Sinking further into the multiple points of contact between the three of them. At some point one of them remembers the recliner function of the couch, allowing Satoru to lay back and stretch his legs. Shoko doesn't uncurl from her position, only enough to capture his arm and hug it between her own. Suguru moves to lay back like Satoru, but leaves an ankle crossed over his calf and his head on Satoru’s shoulder.

Not for the first time, Satoru is overwhelmed with their closeness, with their touches. His skin buzzes where they all meet, Satoru can see the way their cursed energies pull and lull against each other, it makes him almost giddy, head spinning from the sensations that he never seems to grow completely accustomed to. He figures that's due to the years spent without touch, decades worth of only chastising touches and nothing else, couldn't possibly be undone in just a few months and two fellow first years. 

But snuggled on that old couch between the two of them, he can't help but to think otherwise. 

—

The summer is a slow one, alive with cicadas and missions that don't end just because he’s technically on vacation. The campus itself is quiet, at least more than Satoru has grown accustomed to. 

He finds himself alone in the dorms, having decided against going back home for the summer break, a decision that day by day he annoyingly regrets more and more. It was an oversight on his part, it wasn't until he was laying across Shoko’s bed watching her pack that he realized his friends did not have the same plans as he did for the summer. 

“Are you sure you don't want to stay?” Satoru doesn't whine but if it sounds like that to their ears that's not his problem and completely out of his control. 

“For the third time ‘Toru I’m sure,” Shoko chuckles at him as she passes him by to continue partially emptying out her closet. Satoru watches her hand skip over her hung uniforms to reach for short sleeves and tank tops folded at the top. 

“And also for the third time,” Suguru starts from his seat on Shoko’s desk chair, where he’d been fiddling around her few hair products and makeup, putting them in little carrier bags for her. Because when Suguru had offered their help to Shoko in packing he had actually meant it and it wasn't just gonna be another lazy afternoon spent in each other's company, much to Satoru’s displeasure. “You can come home with me, my parents wouldn't mind.” 

Come home with me, the words had been echoing in Satoru’s head since the first time Suguru had offered. The words only ringing louder with everytime Suguru repeats it, 

Satoru can't say he hadn't thought about it. Actually, since the first moment it was offered Satoru hadn't been able to stop thinking about it. 

About how long the train ride to Suguru’s home village would be like. About the long stretch of the countryside outside the windows and Suguru letting Satoru rest his head on his shoulder as they journey on. About meeting Suguru’s parents, he’s never had to do that before, he knows from scattered pictures in Suguru’s room that he takes after his mother in looks, he wonders how similar they’d look in person. He wonders about Suguru’s bedroom, if there’s more knick knacks and memorabilia strewn around it or if it's a habit he picked up when he moved into the dorms. He wonders about where Suguru would take him to explore, if he’d show him where he used to play as a child or his favorite backroads. He wonders about the heat of the summer, how it'll stick to Suguru’s skin and make him pull his growing hair into a tight bun, how sweat will pool in his collarbones, how often he’d be in shorts rather than the baggy pants he usually dawns. He dreams about how tan Suguru’s skin will get from the sun and wakes up with the taste of salt in his mouth. 

Satoru had been thinking about it and came to the despairing conclusion that if Suguru let him into his home, into the gentle intimate corners that housed so much of Suguru he didn't already know, Satoru wouldn't be able to leave. At least not the same. He peers into Suguru’s very energy, arguably his very soul, everyday and yet the thought of seeing Suguru sleep in the bed he’s slept in for years before they met, is somehow what threatens to undo the tight coil of want that Satoru realizes he is starting to lose his grip on. 

It unnerved him, how deep and quick his desire for Suguru grew. How from a few offered touches, well completed missions and observance of his natural beauty, Suguru seemed to take root in him. In a different way than Shoko, though she had also managed to wiggle herself a place in between his ribs and heart. It made it hard to breathe sometimes, thinking of them both. 

His little gay panic dilemma had turned from confusion to full realization in what seemed like one day to the other. Satoru didn't mull over it or grieve or anything. There were no tears shed or feelings of shame, probably because he’d never really experienced shame about his existence once before in his life and he wasn't going to start now just because he woke up from his third dream in a row where he was making out with his friend. 

Then he hadnt knocked as he stepped into Suguru’s room one night, because he’s rude and enjoys when Suguru calls him such. Except that never came.

Instead Satoru stood wide eyed, thankfully hidden behind his glasses, staring at a very shirtless and damp Suguru, who sat shaking a towel through his sopping hair. Suguru, to his credit, did not look nearly as affected as Satoru felt, instead he only rolled his eyes at him, flicking the towel in his hands out at Satoru, pelting him with drops of water.

“Hey!” Satoru had recoiled, purely for the dramatics as his Infinity was up, he'd been getting way better at having it on longer. His longest streak so far had been nearly a day and a half, before he had nearly passed out from exhaustion during lunch and got quite the earful from Shoko. 

“Knock,” is all Suguru said, a smirk on his face as he continued drying his hair, as if he wasn't the picture definition of glorious beauty personified. 

Satoru was by no means weak in the whole looks department and had even started actually packing on muscle on his lean form from their training regime. Of course, Suguru who had always been slightly on the wider, less lanky side of them, had much more to show for it than Satoru. More specifically in the arms and shoulders that bulged and stretched as Suguru towel dried his hair. 

Satoru was weak in the whole, standing in the same room as your half naked semi crush though and let the once small and passing crush inside swelter to a raging fire of want for Suguru. 

“Can I-” Satoru starts, swallowing around the roughness in his voice, “Give me that. You're going to sit here for years trying to dry it like that and I want to get to the convenience store before they close!” He says, shaking his head in false annoyance as he finally enters the room completely. 

“You could just go alone,” Suguru says, lowering the towel to his lap. 

“Oh! I didn't know you hated me and wanted me to die.”

“You're so dramatic, fine come here,” Suguru snorts, rolls his eyes, Satoru tells himself to breathe in his head. Regrets it when he smells Suguru’s soap and shampoo, peppermint and rosemary. Satoru’s head swims with how badly he wants to taste it on his skin. Suguru throws the towel at him once he’s only a few steps away, only for the towel to hit against Infinity and fall before he could think to catch it, having been too distracted to even turn it off in the first place, he thinks he might've actually intensified it from all he’s feeling. 

“Oh whoops-” Satoru mumbles as Suguru raises an eyebrow at him, but doesn’t question it. Satoru bends and picks up the towel, exhales as he lets go of Infinity, feels the damp chill of the soft cotton beneath his fingertips as he straightens up with a smile on his face. He moves to stand behind Suguru, wonders what the fuck he got himself into as he stares down at the tangled inky cascade of hair down Suguru’s spine. There’s a smattering of freckles on his right shoulder and if he twists he can see a bruise an earlier spar between them left against the side of his ribs. Satoru’s fingers twitch to touch it, he gently parts Suguru’s hair instead, beginning to softly pat it down with the towel. Suguru lets out a sigh, leaning back and letting his arms down to hang at his side. Satoru chuckles, watching tension slip from Suguru’s shoulders. 

“You don't want to cut it?” He asks, as he carefully detangles a lock of hair with his fingers. The hair is soft and shiny, even as he asks the question he knows the answer and is secretly glad for it. He likes Suguru’s hair. 

“No, it took me this long to grow it past my shoulders,” He replies and Satoru hums. 

“Isn't it kind of a hassle?” He knows it is, Satoru has taken to wearing hair ties around his wrists since Suguru seems to either lose all of his or snap them while trying to tie up his thick hair in a hurry. 

“Mmm, not a worthless hassle though,” Suguru replies, voice thick and sleepy. Satoru nods, unable to verbally reply as the moment seems to come into full view within him. Suguru, pliant and trusting in Satoru’s unguarded hands. It’s more than want that curls in his stomach, Satoru realizes. More than just teenage addled lust or a passing crush, Satoru’s wants  twist and consume and shift to something akin to need . 

A need to always be this close, closer, to Suguru. To be the one who detangles his hair and be the fingers that trail up and down strong shoulders. To be the reason for the pleased look on Suguru’s face, the reason his lips upturned, to be the singular holder of his violet gaze.  

The realization takes only a few seconds, it takes Satoru even less to tamp them down, to swallow around the confession he hasn't yet worded but threatens to spill past his teeth, because what he wants and what he needs have all of sudden melded into one and his feelings were much easier to deal with when they were much smaller, and nowhere near as desperate and cloying. He breathes around it, inhales more of Suguru’s scent and it soothes the jagged edges of desire that prickle along his ribcage. He breathes and dries his hair and tries not to stagger as the starving ache inside him, one he’d managed to stave off and fill, returns. Bigger and more pressing than the original want to share in Shoko and Suguru’s space. 

He combs through Suguru’s hair and wonders if he’d be able to withstand his usual touches now. If they’d fulfill him how they used to, leave him warm and gooey and alive . 

As he finishes drying his hair and Suguru thanks him and tells him to give him a minute while he puts on a shirt, Satoru knows he couldn't. Suguru stands and walks to his closet and Satoru plants his feet firmer where he stands because if not he doesnt think he’d be able to fight the ridiculous urge that rises in him to follow. To curl his hands around Suguru’s waist and stay there, to keep him as close to him as possible at all times.

They are just a bit more than arm length apart, if Satoru strains he could touch the tip of his middle finger to the dip in Suguru’s back, yet for Satoru they might as well be on opposite sides of the world. The hole in his chest grows, expands and feels to take space where his lungs should be as Suguru pulls a shirt over his head, his hand shakes slightly and he can't tell if it's panic or something else flooding through his body. 

Suguru turns around with a smile once he’s dressed and the breath returns to Satoru’s lungs. Suguru holds the door open for him as they set out together to replenish Satoru’s stash of snacks, he kicks lightly at Satoru’s ankle as he passes, laughing as he almost trips and laughing more when Satoru pouts. 

Satoru watches Suguru’s back as he walks ahead, Suguru’s shoulders shake with his chuckles, stride lazy and relaxed. Satoru watches Suguru’s hair swish behind him as his entire center of gravity shifts, as his entire world rights itself on a Suguru shaped axis and spins on to the beat of his heart. Satoru catches up to him, throws an arm over his broad shoulders, lets his fingers fall just on top of where he now knows the freckles along his back lay. 

“You owe me a soda for drying your hair by the way,” He says, instead of everything else he wants to say. He laughs when Suguru’s lips downturn and open in refusal. 

“I literally didn't even ask you to do that!” Suguru argues. “You offered!” 

“Common courtesy Suguruuuuuu ,” He draws out, tugging on the stray lock of hair that frames Suguru’s cheeks. “Come on, don't be rude!” He puts a hand on his chest in mock affront, feels the rapid fluttering of his heart beneath his hand and relishes the feeling of it. 

“Of all people to say that to me,” Suguru chuckles under his breath and jams a finger against Satoru’s ribs. It hurts, it'll probably bruise, he hopes it does. 

“That hurt!!” He whines, “I don't understand why anyone thinks you're the nice one between us!” A half lie, he can understand it, but Satoru being an aggravating person at his best doesn't erase the mean streak he knows Suguru has. He’s just better at hiding it or Satoru the only person who gets to see it, he doesn't want to unravel why that excites him so much. 

Suguru buys him a soda. Just like Satoru knew he would. With the sugary aftertaste on his tongue he wonders what else he’d give Satoru and hopes that in all his blessings in life, Suguru will be among them, in all the ways he needs. 

Since then Satoru had, admittedly though never out loud, clung to Suguru more.

In the literal sense.

It was a rare sight to see Suguru around campus without Satoru somewhere around and if he wasn't it wouldn't be long before Satoru would show up to rectify that. He’d even pushed their desks together during their last few classes, under the guise of playing card games but really Satoru was restless with even that little bit of distance between them. 

If his chest didn't feel like it was collapsing when Suguru was away from him for too long he’d probably be more embarrassed about his clingy actions, rightfully ashamed, but his chest did feel that way so really he was just taking care of his health here okay. Shoko should be proud of him! 

Besides Suguru didn't seem to mind, never complained about Satoru’s constant presence and touch around him. Which made his heart swell and emotions rise because no one had ever seemed to want Satoru around. All seemingly tolerating him and venerating him for his abilities, for his namesake and birthright. It wasn't like that with Suguru, it never had been right from the start.

Suguru saw past his talents and namesake because he could keep up, he didn't shrink to some no name weakling Satoru would pay no mind too. Suguru was growing stronger alongside him and Satoru hadn't realized how lonely the top of the leaderboards were. How could anyone really blame him if he’s clinging onto Suguru with an iron grip? When he’s the only one worthy to be held in it in the first place?

Satoru is thankful for the summer heat when they say their goodbyes for break. Shoko leaves first, she’s in her pajamas, suitcase in one hand and cigarette in the other. 

“Parents hate me smoking in the house,” She says as she takes a deep drag, holding it a bit before exhaling as if trying to make it last longer. 

“Addict,” Satoru teases, dodging the kick Shoko sends at his shin. She takes another drag and when that cigarette finishes and the car to drive her home hasnt appeared yet she lights another. 

“Here,” she says to Suguru, handing him the lighter she had borrowed, stolen , months ago. “So I’m not tempted while I'm gone.” 

“You are not helping the addict allegations ‘Ko,'' Suguru smiles as he pockets it, in that lovely way of his that squints his eyes close, one he can't help but mirror. 

Shoko doesn't reply except to stick her tongue out at them, which he can't help but mirror as well. They're standing shoulder to shoulder and as the wait drags on Shoko leans her head on Satoru’s shoulder, yawning into the fabric of his shirt, an action she’s done dozens of times. His heart pangs a little, realizing yet again that he’ll be going without that for a few weeks until his friends return to campus. As Suguru leans harder against his other side and Shoko starts to doze off against him, he wonders if they can tell what he’s thinking, know of the absence he's anticipating and just how much he’d miss them. 

Stuck between them under the summer sun and grateful for every minute Shoko’s driver is late, he's somehow sure they can tell. 

When the car finally comes, Shoko wraps her arms around Satoru’s neck, he holds back a joke about her height as he bends to hug her back. She smells like smoke and sunshine. If she notices him breathing her in where he’s buried her nose in the top of her hair, she says nothing of it and lets Satoru pull away first. She does the same to Suguru, who picks her up slightly at the waist as they hug, making her shout and laugh in surprise. They separate only enough to then turn and pull Satoru into a group hug, all limbs and soft edges and he is overwhelmed by it, as always in the best way possible. 

“See you guys soon,” Shoko says and they all ignore the watery sheen in her eyes. She wiggles her phone at them as she walks away, phone charm clinking against it. “You both better text me!” She calls out and they yell back in agreement. Shoko is barely in the car when Satoru pulls his own phone out, stretching his arm out and pulling Suguru closer to him, posing with an exaggerated frown as he takes a picture of them both. 

He sends it to Shoko with an accompanying, miss u already!!!!!!!!! text. Shoko sends back an lol .

They both watch the car until it turns into a tiny black dot in the distance. It wouldn't be long for one to come for Suguru. Satoru doesn't move his arm from Suguru’s neck, and Suguru makes no moves to remove it. 

“It’s not too late to change your mind,” Suguru says after a beat and Satoru chuckles, butting his head against his cheek who huffs in return. 

“Awww, you gonna miss me that much? So sentimental!” Satoru coos and laughs when he sees the usual glare of annoyance Suguru throws his way. 

“Nevermind actually, I hope Yaga shoves missions up your ass,” Suguru replies. 

“I'm gonna miss ya too,” Satoru says, sincerity leaking just enough into his words to make Suguru’s glare soften. “But it's okay, besides if we’re all gone, who's gonna hold down the school? Or do you just not want me to get stronger without you!” He gasps dramatically. “Sabotage??”

Suguru laughs at his antics, clear and deep, Satoru drinks it in, knowing he won't hear it as often for a bit. Suguru opens his mouth to reply but is interrupted by the sound of tires coming up the gravel path. 

He hums as if contemplating as the car comes into view, Satoru wants to feel it against his mouth. He turns in Satoru’s one armed embrace, they're nearly nose to nose and Satoru doesn't know if he should hold his breath or breathe as deeply as possible, commit Suguru’s smell to memory, enough to last him the whole break. He decides on the second option as Suguru’s arms come around his waist and his back, pulling them into a hug and Satoru’s face into the crook of his neck. His glasses push uncomfortably against his nose but he doesn't care.

Rosemary and fresh linens. Satoru doesn’t hold back a sigh as they embrace, wondering if Suguru can feel his heart beating against his own, pressed chest to chest.  Suguru is warm against him like he always is and he wants to fuse into his skin. He doesn't know how long they stay embraced, both seemingly waiting for the other to pull away, but it's long enough for the driver to beep his horn at them both. 

Satoru takes on the impossible task of peeling himself away from Suguru’s body and feels he deserves high praise for the accomplishment.

“Try not to give Yaga any more bald spots while we're gone,” Suguru jokes and Satoru rolls his eyes. “Don't do anything stupid, like passing out from infinity or getting yourself killed.” He tacks on. 

“Yes mother. I think that all falls under the initial dont give Yaga a heart attack category,” he answers and smiles when Suguru laughs. 

“And-”

“Oh my god, should I start a list?”

“Shut up!” Suguru flicks him on the forehead and again, Satoru hopes it bruises just a bit. “I was gonna say text us, okay? Don't go awol and make us come back just to make sure you're alive.”

A tempting thought, especially if it meant Suguru would be back in his presence and within arms reach quicker. 

“I would never do something so underhanded,” he says and Suguru scowls in disbelief at his words but he can see the smile that tries to break through. “Anything else? Not gonna remind me to brush my teeth?”

Suguru shoves at his shoulder as he laughs. “Alright I take it all back, die, you're insufferable.” 

“Big word there, impressive,” Satoru jokes and this time dodges Suguru’s coming jab as another loud beep cuts through the air. Satoru tries not to sigh too hard at the sound of it, but by the way Suguru looks him over, he doesn’t think he really accomplished it. 

Suguru turns towards the car before turning back, pulling Satoru against him again so quickly it makes him almost dizzy. Although that could just be because he's hugging Suguru again, he has that effect on him. Satoru crosses his arms around his neck, this time pushing his glasses up to get as close as possible into the junction of his shoulder.

“It's only a few weeks,” Suguru says and Satoru wonders if he's also trying to placate himself. Selfishly, Satoru hopes that's the case. That the dread that is pooling more and more with each passing second as Suguru’s departure approaches is mirrored in Suguru’s own gut. That he’ll feel every second apart from Satoru just as torturous as Satoru is already feeling. That his absence from his side will be cloying, unignorable and tangible. 

“Yeah, I know,” Satoru says, muffled by his shirt that he continues to bury his nose into. He takes one more deep breath before deciding to take pity on the driver and pulling away first. Taking a step backwards as they untangle completely from each other, Satoru shoves his hands in his pockets to prevent him from reaching out for him again. He watches Suguru’s grip on the handle of his suitcase, tense and tight. “See you soon, Suguru,” He says, smiling softly.

Suguru returns it, takes a few steps towards the driveway where the car diligently waits, before reaching his arm backward and tapping Satoru’s sunglasses back down from the top of his head to cover his eyes again. The action jolts Satoru slightly which seems to endlessly amuse him. 

“Happy summer, Satoru,” Suguru replies before turning away fully. 

Satoru watches his back as he leaves. Throws up a hand as Suguru waves from the rolled down window as the car starts to drive away, keeps it up until the car is nothing but a blip in the distance. Satoru is happy for the glaring sun, for the inescapable heat around him, it makes the cold that settles in Suguru’s absence easier to deal with. 

Satoru stays in the sun for another thirty minutes, until Yaga finds him, pats him on the shoulder and tells him to pick what they have for dinner. Satoru smiles but can't shake the realization that Suguru’s warmth had turned the feeling of the very sun on his skin feel artificial. Ten thousand burning suns couldn't hold a candle to Suguru’s heat. 

“Hot out here isn't it?” Yaga says, trying at conversation.

“Mm yeah it is.”

“It's gonna be a hot summer.”

Satoru hopes so, but as they pass through the dorms, past Shoko’s and Suguru’s empty rooms, he cant fight the chill that crawls up his back. He puts his infinity back up as Yaga hands him take out menus to choose from.

He doesn't lower it for another three days. In the dark silence of his room, a migraine pulsing behind his eyes and settling at the base of his skull, he smiles reading a text from Shoko, enjoying the first pulse of warmth since their summer had begun. 

Shoko: weirdly enough, using reversed cursed technique to cure a sunburn is not nearly as satisfying as applying aloe vera. 

Satoru laughs softly as Shoko sends two photos. One of her in the mirror, cheeks puffed up and red. She’s in a bathing suit Satoru had helped her decide on just a week ago, he can clearly see where the sun burn ends and begins. The second one is her, this time dramatically less red, throwing up a peace sign and a proud smirk as her skin has gone from a glowing ember to pretty tan. 

Suguru: Did you even try putting on sunscreen??

Suguru: but also, kinda real. Aloe feels super good 

Satoru: just slather it on anyways, good for the skin!!

Shoko: first, of course I did i'm not stupid like Satoru, Second not everyone can be like you and just stand in the sun and not burn

Satoru: wtf, uncalled for????

Suguru: you use your Infinity as sunscreen, even though that's NOT how that works. 

Shoko: exactly. 

Satoru: That's SPF Infinity, try and get That from a bottle baby. 

Shoko: sug, you owe me ¥1500 if Toru is sunburnt by next week

Suguru: I am not going to just give you money. 

Satoru: i hate you both i'm going to bed and i'm unfriending you. 

Shoko: good night toru

Suguru: sleep well (:

Satoru: DIE!

He falls asleep with his phone in his hand, overheated and low on battery. But he dreams of Shoko in the sand and the smell of aloe vera.

The days pass as he expected, slowly and agonizingly. Annoyingly enough, curses themselves seem to be taking a vacation, leaving him spending a lot more time stuck on campus than he originally anticipated. He takes to sticking to Yaga’s side whenever possible, like a really large thorn, who pretty much throws cursed dolls at him to fight whenever he deems Satoru too annoying. It helps, slightly. Keeping his body moving feels like the only way to try and scratch the itch that lays beneath his skin, one growing steadily harder to ignore. 

Two weeks since he’d last felt a touch on his skin or a welcomed gaze on his own. Not that he was keeping count. 

It's two weeks and three days when a text from Suguru acts as a temporary remedy for his plight.

Suguru: is it crazy if i say i am so bored

Satoru laughs out loud and lets the sweet relief that floods his system go to his head. 

Suguru: Like i almost want Yaga to lecture us on something im that bored

Satoru: Want me to ask him to send you some summer reading? Assign you a book report?

Suguru: nvm not that bored. 

Four weeks and two days, he gets a call from Shoko. He's in his room again, laying on the ground, shirtless and sticky from the sweat that pools if he even so much as breathes too hard. A heatwave hit Tokyo earlier that week, even as he’s drenched in the cloying heat Satoru’s bones feel cold. Craving the sinking warmth that only certain hands could provide. Still something close to it blooms in his chest as Shoko’s voice says hello to him, he smiles just hearing her. 

“It’s raining here,” she says and Satoru hums, he can hear the pitter patter of it on her roof through the phone. “It’s nice though.”

“You called me to talk about the weather?” he snarks.

“Fuck off, I called you cause I’m trying to distract myself,” she explains. “Parents are out, and it's just me and my cigarettes having a staring contest.” Hearing the slight frustration in her voice is what stops Satoru’s next snarky remark, sighing as he lays the phone by his ear. 

“Want me to tell you about the hottest and latest Jujutsu tech gossip?” he offers and smiles when the girl ooooh’s on the other end. 

They talk for hours, Shoko watches the rain and Satoru stares at the ceiling, the heatwave seems to finally sink into his bones. 

At Six weeks and a day Satoru is thankfully on a mission, a real chance to blow off the steam that's been accumulating. It’s a low level curse, an in and out situation. A perfect one to last as long as possible.

It's a bit cruel, sure but he thinks the boredom and loneliness he's faced for the past few weeks is arguably even crueler. So sue him if he wants to shoot a couple of holes at the curse that just so happens to regenerate its many squirming limbs. He’s just trying to be thorough. 

He whistles as he unnecessarily dodges the curses' weak attempt to hit him and lets himself daydream as the curse makes futile contact with infinity. He thinks about Suguru, of course, specifically what he was up to at that moment, and what he would do if he was there with Satoru. 

Probably complain, tell him something gross like ‘to not play with his food ’, then they’d finish and get dinner. He wonders what Suguru is eating for dinner, if he cooked it himself or helped his mother out in the kitchen. 

Satoru brings his phone out of his pocket, spares a passing glance at the curse in front of him as he types. 

Satoru: i wish curses could be captured in pics bcs if you guys could see the ugly fucker im dealing with right now

Shoko: are u texting mid mission

Satoru: well 

He looks up at the curse, blows two of its arms off, looks back at his phone. 

Satoru: yes!

Shoko: astounding

Suguru: idiot, go focus

Three arms this time, the curse does not regenerate them as quickly, Satoru’s fun is coming to a close.

Satoru: guys u dont understand though he's so ugly like wow, mother of all uglies

Shoko: go exorcize the damn thing then, put you both out of its ugly misery 

Suguru: yea go do that, at least you don't have to eat the ugly thing

Satoru: ur gods strongest soldier Suguru

He points his finger at the middle of the curses wiggling body and yawns as its dispelled into nothing but bloodied purple vapor in front of him. 

Suguru: shut the hell up Satoru

Satoru sends a picture, his glasses are pushed up on his forehead to show off an obnoxious wink, framed by an equally obnoxious peace sign and puckered lips. 

Satoru: success !!!!!

Shoko sends a picture in reply, with just her rolling eyes visible, she seems to be laying in bed. Satoru sets it as her contact picture as he sits back in the car. 

Shoko: dumbass

Suguru sends a picture as well, following Shoko’s example it's just his eyes, rolled in exasperation. His hair is down but pushed away from his face by a pair of headphones, he looks like he’s on his way somewhere, Satoru saves the picture to his gallery.

Suguru: dumbass

The ride back to campus is short which makes him sigh, it was all too soon that he'd be back in the empty dorm rooms and more specifically his own achingly devoid room. He wondered if Yaga would indulge him in watching a movie with him that night, it's not a substitute for his movie nights with Shoko and Suguru not even close but, it helped slightly, having at least someone around. 

The sun is setting behind the tall roofs of the campus once Satoru arrives, the night chill creeps behind his feet as he walks up the steps and towards his room, he’d resigned himself to a quiet night when he feels it. 

It's weak, concealed almost but still, Satoru could recognize that cursed energy anywhere. An amalgamation of energy that turns and twists into familiar shades of purple. Suguru’s remnants are leading straight towards his dorm room and even though it doesn't make any sense at all Satoru finds himself moving faster, breathing quicker as his own cursed energy threatens to pulse out from him uncontrolled.

He doesn't knock, he actually almost rips the door off its hinges, not with his hands it bulges in front of him, straining against his infinity he hadn't noticed he’d heightened. The straining door finally opens to reveal a wide eyed Suguru, hands deep into his suitcase where he stands taking clothes out of it and back into its respective drawers. Suguru’s mouth is open slightly in surprise, Satoru doesnt give him a chance before stepping inside completely, moving just close enough that if he stretches his arm out he’d be within his grasp.

“You're-” real ? he stops himself from stupidly asking. Instead takes in every single detail of Suguru all at once. His hair has grown even longer, settling a bit past his ribs. His skin is sunkissed, tan and lush and there's faint freckles across his cheeks. He’s dressed in loose fitting pants and a black tank top and wow okay, arms . Suguru moves to face Satoru completely and he almost groans as the strap of his shirt moves slightly, revealing the slight tan line underneath. “Hi.” He says stupidly, breathlessly. 

Suguru laughs, eyes crinkling up and shakes his head slightly. “Wow, remind me to never try to surprise you again, that reaction sucked.” He crosses his arms over his chest and looks Satoru over, eyes fond despite his words. Satoru feels the blush rising in his cheeks, he feels overheated and woozy. He feels so so alive. 

“Would Have worked better if you didn't suck so hard at concealing your cursed energy,” Satoru says, smirking when Suguru grumbles a curse under his breath. “What are you doing back?” 

Suguru shrugs non committedly but Satoru notices the slight color that rises to his cheeks, it looks pretty against his newly tanned skin. Satoru decides the sight alone was worth the summer spent apart. “Got bored, didn't wanna let you have all the fun.” He answers and it sounds like a lie but Satoru can't discern why. 

“Oh yeah, super jealous of all the insane and super cool missions I've been going on without you,” Satoru says. “I get it, if I was you I’d be jealous too.”

Suguru snorts. “Right, okay.” 

A beat passes, Satoru could explode if Suguru does not touch him immediately.

He’s almost concerned he actually might. He deserves a medal of honor, the highest commendation, for not jumping Suguru as soon as he had him in his sights again.

Especially considering he’s had no real time to prepare for Suguru’s arrival, no time to quell the desperation in his gut and want thrumming underneath his skin. Distance makes the heart grow fonder, he had heard said once, but his heart couldn't grow any fonder than it already was and the distance simply served to try and drive him crazy with need. He tries not to let it show too clearly how obvious Suguru’s absence has affected him, tries to play it cool and totally chill but then Suguru opens his arms to him, inviting. 

“Come here ‘Toru,” Suguru breathes out gently, eyes sparkling, amused as he stares at him. Satoru doesn’t need to be told twice. He all but slams himself at Suguru, throws his sunglasses on his bed and shoves his face against his neck, breathing in deeply against the long locks that meet him there. 

“Oh,” he gasps out softly, low enough he’s not sure Suguru heard. His hands cling to the back of Suguru’s shirt, twisting in the material as he tries to calm himself down from all the sensations. It’s somehow like the first time all over again, the weeks spent apart have left Satoru oversensitive, he feels like he’s being scorched alive with each point of contact, from his nose down his chest and thighs, all aligned with Suguru’s warm, inviting body. “Missed you,” he whispers before he can help it, his face is no doubt red, he buries it deeper against Suguru’s neck. 

Suguru squeezes him harder, arms around his waist, holding them close enough that Satoru can feel how his chest expands as he breathes. “Yeah.” Suguru replies, he sounds just as breathless as Satoru feels it makes him grin. 

“Oh come on Suguruuu ,” he says, mouth a hair's breadth away from his neck. He holds back from pressing a kiss to it as he talks “Say you missed me too.” 

Suguru laughs, it rumbles against their chests and Satoru’s head spins from the feel of it.

 “No.”

Satoru can tell he’s smiling. 

“Admit ittt,” Satoru draws out, moving to turn his head around, laying it against his shoulder and facing the room. 

“Why?” Suguru asks as Satoru rubs his cheek slightly against the cotton strap of his shirt. “Isn't it obvious enough?” There’s an almost embarrassed tinge to his words, a tangible pout. 

“Still I'd like to hear it. I told you!” He replies, moving to look Suguru in the eye. Suguru meets his gaze, even and unflinching, it makes Satoru giddy. Suguru has never shied away from his gaze. Not once.  

“You and your ego I swear,” Suguru rolls his eyes. 

“Me and my ego that you missed so much you cut your break short just to come see me,” Satoru says, smiling full of teeth as he brings a hand to poke against Suguru’s very firm chest. 

“Im telling them to drive me back,” Suguru says, feigning pulling away from Satoru as he unclasps his hands from behind his back. It's a joke, Satoru objectively knows that but its as if his body doesnt, he scrambles at the threat of Suguru letting him go, hands coming up to twist in the front of his shirt and keeping them close together.

“No no no I'm kidding,” his words are too desperate for his own ears, pleading and almost scared. “I’m just kidding, don- don't go.”

Suguru’s eyes widen slightly but just as fast as Satoru’s words register, his arms are back around his waist again, holding Satoru steady. “Hey it's okay i was kidding I'm not going anywhere,” he placates, smiling softly as Satoru blushes at his slight outburst. It's him who drops his gaze this time, picking imaginary lint on Suguru’s shirt. 

“Toru?” Suguru whispers, as if afraid to spook Satoru. Satoru can't take hearing it, moving and planting his forehead against Suguru’s collarbone instead.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “I've just… missed you.”

“You've said,” Suguru chuckles and Satoru shakes his head, moving again to look him in the eyes, despite how red and disproportionately wrecked he must look. 

“No- I’ve,” He takes a trembling breath, “I’ve missed you Suguru,” He repeats, voice drenched in six weeks worth of loneliness and emotion. Suguru seems to understand, eyes softening completely as he moves his hand up to brush a stray lock of hair from Satoru’s face. The tip of his finger brushes his cheekbone gently as he does and Satoru gasps as the skin to skin contact jolts him as if Suguru had pressed a lit match to his cheek instead. 

“Wait-” he says, bringing his hand to wrap around Suguru’s wrist and squeezing just as Suguru opens his mouth in alarm.

“Did I hurt you?” His voice is drenched in worry, Satoru hates hearing him like that. “Are you scraped up from ur miss-”

Satoru shuts him up by placing his cheek back into Suguru’s hand, holding them both steady with the hand on his wrist. “No no its, not that I’m just-” He wonders if Suguru can feel the way his face heats up when he finds the words. “Well it’s just no ones really,” touched him . He makes a pointed glance at the hand on his face, hoping Suguru understands without saying it outloud. “Since you guys left, I feel all hypersensitive now. It might be something with Infinity, I don't know.” He trails off. 

“Ah,” Suguru whispers, understanding pooling in his eyes, as his thumb starts to caress his skin lightly back and forth. “Sorry, I should’ve-” 

“No it's okay,” Satoru says, sinking deeper against Suguru’s touch. Its as he lets his own hand run down from Suguru’s wrist to clutch at his elbow and then his bicep that he realizes this is probably not the most platonic way you're supposed to welcome back your friend, but he absolutely cannot bring himself to care, not when Suguru is so soft and warm against him. Not when six weeks of solitude are melting off his body with every second he spends in his presence again. 

“Let's go watch something,” Suguru says gently, as if afraid to rupture the fragile atmosphere between them. Satoru smiles and nods. 

Satoru doesn't pay attention as they walk towards the common room, all he focuses on is the arm Suguru throws around his neck as they walk. Heavy and grounding around him. He doesn't bother picking a movie, instead just sits in his spot on the ratty old couch and waits in rising anticipation for Suguru to join him. Satoru has taken his uniform jacket off and thrown it somewhere in the room, sitting in his undershirt as Suguru finally sits down. He barely lets him get situated before throwing Suguru’s arm over his shoulder and planting himself against Suguru’s side, leg thrown casually over Suguru’s and his head against his shoulder. 

His skin is buzzing, overstimulated and overwhelmed by all the different sensations on his body. He feels rubbed raw as he comes into contact with the cotton of Suguru’s clothes, just to be smoothed over by the trailing cool fingers Suguru runs up and down Satoru’s arm. 

“This okay?” Suguru asks and really, Satoru deserves so much for his show of self control.

“Yes,” Satoru sighs out. “That's kinda tickling me though,” he says about Suguru’s hand, and nearly groans out in agony when the aforementioned hand is brought away from Satoru’s skin and back down to the couch. “Noooo,” he whines and it's wholly undignified, he’ll find a time to be embarrassed about it later.

“You sure it’s not too much for you?” Suguru asks and Satoru comes alive recognizing the slight meanness that taints his words, an undercurrent of teasing that no one other than Satoru is privy to. It's what finally snaps something in him, that makes him sit up on Suguru, shoving at his chest and planting his long legs on either side of his thighs. Suguru is staring up at him in shock as Satoru grabs onto his hands and places them on his body, one on his arm and the other brought up to his jaw. 

"Please,” he whispers, cracking his previous bold actions a his body tenses and twist as he feels every part that joins them.

“Satoru,” Suguru nearly purrs and he wonders if he actually died mid mission and ended up in heaven. Suguru’s eyes are lowered but alert, Satoru can see the way he follows each one of his trembling breaths and the lip he’s captured between his teeth. He feels like he’s taking him apart with just his eyes , God, which one of them had Six eyes again?

“Suguru please just touch me before I embarrass myself any further. This is like bordering on cruelty,” Satoru whines, blushing and overcome completely by the initial desire that always threatens to drown him when Suguru is around. 

“Cruel?” Suguru repeats, teasing. “To you, I could never.” He says as he finally, finally, moves his hands on Satoru’s body of his own volition. Clutching at his waist to sit him down fully on his lap and Satoru’s brain fries itself as he realizes the position his desperation had landed him in. 

“I hate you,” he complains and doesn't mean it at all when one of Suguru’s hands plays with the bottom hem of his shirt, occasionally dipping under and tracing the seam of his skin. Satoru hisses at the contact but pushes his body closer to the wandering hand. 

“No,” Suguru says, sitting up a bit straighter to pull them chest to chest, face close enough that he can feel his breath puff out against Satoru’s cheek. His head is swimming with so much want,  he worries he’ll pass out. “You don't,” Suguru’s voice is low and heavy against his cheek as he talks, as he starts to press the faintest of kisses to Satoru’s reddened cheekbone.  

“Please Suguru,” the words are muffled and more of a mewl as Satoru brings his hand up to his mouth in an effort to stop the groan that threatened to spill out from him. 

Suguru groans, deep and intoxicating, bringing his head against Satoru’s chest, finally revealing just how equally affected he is. The tips of Suguru’s ears are red and Satoru is overwhelmed just looking at them. “ Stop saying it like that you're the one being cruel here,” Suguru mutters against him and Satoru gives a breathless laugh. 

“How the hell-?” He says to the open air, giggling slightly as Suguru sits up straight again, fixing a hand on his jaw to hold  Satoru’s head still and the other at the small of his back. Satoru feels like the air is sucked out of the room as he holds Suguru’s gaze.

“Satoru, what I asked earlier,”

“Um,” Satoru replies very intelligently because he cannot focus on anything besides the strong fingers at his jaw and the firm chest between his hands and how hot everything feels. ‘Wha- huh?”

Suguru chuckles and takes pity on him. “About being obvious, you really don't know?” 

“Wuh?” Satoru blinks in confusion and glares when Suguru rolls his eyes. 

“Granted six eyes and for what?” He jokes and Satoru brings a hand down on his chest in a dull slap. 

“Hey!” He exclaims but is cut short by the hand on his jaw moving to trace the fragile skin beneath Satoru’s eye. 

“Missed seeing these everyday,” Suguru says faintly and Satoru’s eyes widen at all he leaves unsaid. Suguru smiles at him fondly, as if to say ‘ finally you big idiot. ” Satoru blinks, forces the want of haze from his mind as he stares back at Suguru, and fully gets his fill of him.

There's a pink tint to his cheeks that runs up to his cheeks and down to his shoulders. His breathing is even but his heart is fluttering in his chest, his eyes are steady on Satoru, watching him watch him . Their cursed energies pull and melt against each other, like the tides on a full moon. Suguru is staring at him with all the want and need and undeniable love Satoru has housed unnamed in his chest for months. 

“Oh,” Satoru exhales and Suguru grins slowly, eyes crinkling up as the blush on his cheeks deepens. 

“Mm?” he coaxes and Satoru heaves a shivering breath before he speaks, bringing his hands up to tangle in his long hair. Suguru sucks in a breath at the touch, Satoru smirks at the reaction.

“Suguru,” he says, relishing the taste of his name in his mouth. “Processing all the information from six eyes could take awhile.” He says, moving forward to press his nose against his cheekbone, relishing in the way Suguru clutches at him tighter as he tenderly caresses the skin there. 

“Liar,” Suguru grounds out, he sounds winded, Satoru knows he fares no better. 

“Yes,” he laughs, high and joy filled. “Say it anyway.” He plants a wet, heated, kiss against his cheek and smiles against the skin when Suguru almost doubles over. 

“Even though it's obvious,” Suguru says and Satoru nods eagerly, desperately. 

“Especially then.”

“I love you Sator-” Satoru tastes the end of his words against his mouth, finally. Tastes the laugh that bubbles from Suguru’s throat and into Satoru’s open mouth as he kisses him deeply, desperately, uncoordinated and sloppy but overjoyed. Satoru brings his hands to cradle Suguru’s face, holding him in place as he trails kisses from his lips up his cheeks and down his jaw, unable to hold back the near manic happy giggles that he lets out between every few kisses. He can't help it, he doesn't have to help it anymore, he's so happy. Satoru can't remember the last time he’d felt so genuinely content. He thinks he probably never has, not until that moment, of finally having the only thing he’s ever wanted more than anything. 

“I wanted to turn the car around the second I left,” Suguru says in between kisses and Satoru nearly moans at the sound of his voice, gruff and harsh, tinged with the same despairing hunger that Satoru had felt for months. “I wanted to call you more. I felt so bad I was home. I couldn't stop thinking of you, of what it would be like if you were there too,” Suguru plants a wet kiss to the base of his neck making Satoru gasp and shiver slightly. “how insufferable you'd probably be from the heat,” a flicker of teeth against his skin, Satoru wouldn't mind if Suguru tore him open. “I wondered every day what you were doing, if you missed me too”

“Yes yes Suguru yes,” his words stumble together as he nods his head vigorously, as he closes his eyes from the onslaught of sensations and wet tongue laving against the cords of his neck. 

“I don't know what you've done to me but,” Suguru says lowly, as if still trying to come to terms with it,  head moving from his neck to kiss him on the mouth again. “I can't bear it, being apart from you, I-”

“Then don't,” Satoru pants into his open mouth. “Not ever.”

Suguru chuckles and kisses him again. “I'll try.” 

Satoru shakes his head, trails small kisses from one temple to the other. “No- just dont please, just don't.” An unfulfillable request but Satoru asks it anyways, asks it of Suguru because if anyone can fulfill Satoru’s impossible needs it's him. 

“Okay, yes that works for me,” Suguru commits and Satoru is sure his grin could rival the sun. “Anything else I can do for you?” He asks good naturedly. 

“Touch me,” Satoru whines even as both of Suguru’s hands have found their way underneath his loose shirt and leaving Satoru a shaking, needy mess in the wake of their trails on his bare skin. 

“I literally am,” Suguru punctuates his words with a sharp squeeze at his waist, making Satoru nearly cry out, doubling over against his neck. 

“More-” he pants out, leaves an open mouth kiss to the tan skin, “ Suguru more, please”

Suguru takes a deep breath at the words and Satoru grins against his neck. 

“I dont think Ive ever heard you say please before, let alone this often,” Suguru comments and Satoru wants to be annoyed at how smug he sounds but really it's all just unfairly hot. He sits up again, only far enough for their noses to softly graze each other, enough to watch the sharp way Suguru breathes beneath him. 

“If you don't kiss me I'll literally never say it again,” An empty threat and they both know it. Suguru throws his head back as he laughs and Satoru can't help but follow, placing another kiss to his jaw. 

“You're such a brat,” Suguru says. 

“Yeah Shoko said the same thing once or a hundred,” Satoru mutters, kissing his way up Suguru’s cheek. “Something about bad parenting or whatever.” 

“Please don't mention Shoko while you're in my lap making out with me,” Suguru groans and Satoru can't help and crack up but nods, moving to do nothing but kiss Suguru until he can't anymore. 

Satoru doesn't know how long they stay that way, chuckling into each others mouths, trading panting breaths and kisses, he can’t even use the movie as a guide because once they peel away for long enough to check the clock they realize they’d actually never pressed start and had been stuck on the menu screen for who knows how long. It makes them both laugh uncontrollably, sharing kisses and holding each other the whole way back to the dorms. 

They spend the rest of the summer essentially wrapped up in each other, staying true to each other's promise to never be apart from each other. They go on the occasional simple mission together, eat together, spend their nights in the firefly filled fields on campus. Satoru never wants it to end but even as it does, as the beginning of their second year approaches he cant find it in him to be sad, he’s excited, for whatever the future will bring him, since now he has Suguru by his side. 

The Friday before class starts Shoko returns to campus, with more suitcases than she left with and a hand outstretched for Suguru’s lighter before she’s made it past the entrance of the school. Shoko glances between them, smiles when she sees their held hands and rushes towards the two of them, who hug her back just as tightly. 

“Did you get smaller?” Satoru teases and yelps when Shoko kicks at his ankle. 

“Shut it,” She huffs at him, turning to Suguru with a sweet smile. “Hi ‘Guru.”

“Hi Shoko,” he replies, just as warmly. 

“Alright come on, you're both going to tell me every single detail,” she says, stepping in between them to hold onto one of their arms. Satoru smiles at the contact, bending his body sideways to plant his head on top of hers as they walk. 

“I missed you Shokooooooo,” he says as Shoko bats him off but doesn't pull away. Satoru can see her smiling softly around the unlit cigarette in her mouth. 

“I'm happy for you guys, finally I don't have to sit through you guys making heart eyes at each other when one isn't looking,” She laughs as Suguru pouts next to her, grumbling under his breath something along the lines of ‘I don't do that .’

“No, now I just do it all the time,” Satoru says, taking his glasses off to exaggeratedly bat his eyelashes over at Suguru. 

“I'm dropping out of this school,” Shoko groans, as they finally make it to their usual spot. She flicks the lighter to life and lights her cigarette, Satoru would tease her if he didn't miss the smell of smoke so much. She takes a long drag, smiling almost to herself as the nicotine hits her lungs. 

“Nooooo Shokoooo,” Satoru whines, trapping her arm against his chest at her words. 

Suguru chuckles next to them, thanks Shoko as he’s handed the cigarette next. “Don't tease him like that, he'll probably cry. He didn't sleep last night waiting for you.” 

Satoru reaches an arm out to slap at Suguru’s shoulder, ears burning as the other two laugh. “Don't tell her that!!”

“Aw ‘Toru,” Shoko says, looking up at him with a smile, she puts a hand to his neck pulling him down to her, to plant a sweet kiss against his pink cheek. “I missed you too.” She says tenderly and Satoru feels beyond content. He looks at them both and smiles, wide and unhindered. 

Once, when he was younger, one of his trainers had told him, “ You could have the world in the palm of your hand, Satoru .” The young boy had believed him because that's what being the strongest meant right? What the point of him was all about. To be capable of holding the world in his hands, metaphorically and possibly, if he trained his natural ability enough, literally. 

In the fast fading summer heat, cigarette smoke in the air, their second year a bright unknown future on the horizon, a hand clasped around Shoko’s own and the other wrapped loosely around Suguru’s waist, he can't help but think he’s finally accomplished that. 

It makes him feel untouchable. 

It’s only a few weeks into his second year that he is horrifically made to realize, he is not. 

—

Satoru is running on fumes, he got back from a grueling first grade mission six hours ago and has been laying sleepless in his bed. Not that he’s even tried to sleep, he’s actively fending it off actually, for the third day in a row. 

Infinity pulses a thin layer above his skin, it feels like it's trying to peel his skin off and at the same time trying to push his eyes out of his head. He’s tired and his head swims in pain, the cold compress pressed against his eyes might as well be a pile of rusty knives against them. He takes a slow jagged breath and tries not to cry as a brief phantom sharp pain alights itself in the divot between his ribs. The small rounded scar that settles there stings with each breath and Satoru doesn’t know what to do with the anger that follows the painful reminder of how he had failed. 

He shakes his head, regrets it as the migraine throbs even worse at the action, trying to forcefully remove the thought before it derails him completely. He doesn't want to think about that day, not ever again and only a month after he thinks he’s been doing a pretty good job of moving past it all! He’s sure Shoko would disagree but whatever. He doesn't want to think about her either. Actually, he hadn't been able to see much of her as the month went by, not with the constant missions given to him and Suguru. 

Suguru. He bit his lip as a sob threatened to tear through him, he couldn't handle that right now, physically. He’s pretty sure if he heaved a deep breath the pain from it would make him pass out and he hates waking up after he’s passed out. He’s always panicked and sweaty, heart going a million miles a minute as he puts infinity back up at impossible speeds. 

He thinks of Suguru instead, he’s waiting for him. To make sure he’s okay after his own no doubt equally stressful mission. They haven't been sent out together since that day, Satoru won't admit he’s starting to lose hope they ever will again, he wonders if that same sentiment also weighs over Suguru’s head. He knows it does. 

His phone buzzes against his desk making him flinch at the dull noise. Three short vibrations, a text from Shoko. He doesn't make any moves to get up, really doesnt think he can, the anger in his gut coils to something uglier, jagged and mean. He feels weak as a few small tears slip past his cheeks, feels weak as all the pain settles against his skin, as if reminding him it's not going away. He breathes unevenly as the world swirls around him and away into unconsciousness, Satoru tries to remember what it felt like to have it in his grip.

“-Toru?” There's a hand at his shoulder, shaking him softly. Satoru swears the only reason he doesn't scream is because his throat is dry but that doesn't stop him from flinching and nearly jumping out of his bed, despite all the complaints his body gives him. He hears a soft hiss as his infinity reactivates itself around him, he opens his eyes finally, disoriented and scared, only to find himself back in his room, staring wide eyed at Suguru who holds a hand to his chest. 

They stare at each other for a few moments, taking each other in. Satoru is sure he looks a mess, he tries to settle his breathing, watches the way Suguru does the same. 

“I- god I’m sorry,” he starts, voice hoarse and tired. “I didn't-”

“No it- it's okay,” Suguru interrupts and Satoru breathes a little easier at the sound of his voice. “I shouldn’t have-” 

Satoru cuts him off with a raised hand because if Suguru finishes that sentence he is going to really cry and he will not do that tonight. If anyone should it’s you, he wants to tell him. If anyone should be able to touch Satoru whenever he wants its Suguru, he wishes for nothing more for the days when that was easy, unquestionable between them. 

“No, don't say that just,” he swallows around the lump in his throat. “Come here, please.”

Suguru thankfully doesn't need to be told twice, cautiously throwing himself at Satoru, who lays back down to make room for them both. Not that the twin bed allows for much. They move slowly as they rearrange bruised and sore limbs around each other, settling into a pile of aching bones. 

“Sorry about infinity,” Satoru whispers into the dark of the room, once his head is rested against Suguru’s chest, a leg thrown over his middle. Suguru presses a kiss to the top of his head and he sighs at the annoying tears he can't hold back. 

“It’s okay ‘Toru,” It's not but Satoru is too tired to argue and besides, it's easier to pretend it is right? “Just rest, how long have you had it up for?” Suguru mumbles against his hair and he shrugs, nuzzling into Suguru’s chest. Suguru runs practiced hands through his hair, rubbing circles on his temple and the base of his neck, Satoru melts completely at the affection, at the sweet morphine like relief that floods him at the soft touches. It’s almost enough to forget why they're in that position, almost enough to pretend. Until Suguru speaks again. 

“I have a mission early friday,” he says and Satoru doesn't need to see him to know he’s frowning. Satoru doesn't have the energy to groan or pout, or to slam his head into a wall which he really wants to do, instead he sniffles quietly and nods against Suguru. 

It's a wednesday. They’d only have one day together and they'll spend most of it in classes. 

“For how long?” Satoru asks gently. Suguru heaves a deep breath, Satoru braces himself for the answer.

“The weekend, but if I finish early I’ll be back by Saturday night,” Suguru replies, despite them both knowing the unlikeliness of that. 

“God fuck it all,” Satoru doesnt wail but its a near thing. He clutches at Suguru’s shirt, curls himself into a ball at his side and really really tries again at the whole not crying situation. 

“Hey come on, shhh Satoru, it’s okay,” Suguru tries placating him but his voice is rough, heavy with the same emotions flooding through Satoru. 

Satoru brings a hand up to push against his eyes, against ardent, frustrating tears that fall. “I just- isn't it enough?” he says, words forming around a gasp. “I swear theyre punishing us or something those fucking old assholes have always had it out for me and now-”

“Hush Satoru,” Suguru says firmly, punctuating his words by tugging softly at the root of Satoru’s hair.

“But-” he sniffles again and hates it so much. Suguru presses kisses to whatever parts of Satoru he can reach. 

“I don't want to spend the time we have like that,” he says, lips planted to the crown of Satoru’s head. “Please,” he whispers and Satoru gives a shaky nod. 

“You're right, you're right,” Satoru whispers back, settling back down, moving so this time they're laying face to face. Suguru looks just as tired as Satoru feels, he brings a hand to trace over Suguru’s features, slowly and lightly, the bow of his lips, the dip of his brow, the bridge of his nose, repeating it until Suguru closes his eyes and sighs, tension bleeding from his body. Satoru smiles then, real and small, he presses a kiss to Suguru’s nose and forehead.

“I love you,” he whispers and Suguru brings a hand between them, lays it directly over the scar on his chest, over his beating heart. 

“I love you too,” Suguru replies and slowly, in the dark of his room, holding Suguru against him, he lets himself believe they’re okay, that they will be. 

Another two months pass and Satoru isn’t as exhausted though still equally overworked.

He’s sitting in his bathtub, the water going tepid a long time ago but he can't find it in him to get up. He hears Suguru shuffling around just outside the door, he moves to sink lower into the water, until he’s fully submerged and staring up at the rippling sight of the bathroom ceiling. He counts the tiles there. 247, with three missing ones from a shoddy tile job. He counts them all again before he feels Suguru enter the room, he resurfaces. 

“Satoru,” It isn't posed as a question but Satoru can hear it anyways. Suguru sits on the floor next to the tub, leans his head against the smooth edge and Satoru moves forward to press a wet kiss to his forehead. He smiles when Suguru’s eyebrows scrunch up at it.

“I’m okay,” Satoru says and it’s starting to not feel like a lie, sort of. Maybe that's just the insane amount of epsom salt he put in the bath talking. Suguru searches his face and if it was possible for Satoru to tear himself open and pour his very essence out for Suguru to hold in his hands and read, he would. 

“Okay,” Suguru says after looking him over, making no moves to get back up. Satoru brings a hand out of the water, letting it dry slightly in the air before caressing Suguru’s cheek. 

“Are you?” He asks, searching just as Suguru had been. Suguru looks tired, maybe just as Satoru does, but he doesn't look as exhausted, or maybe that's just wishful thinking. Satoru closes his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall. 

“Yes,” Suguru replies and Satoru doesn’t look for the lie in the word. Just lets it rest in the air, float among the water and few bubbles. “Just tired.”

Satoru hums, and continues to trace patterns into Suguru’s skin. “Okay, love you.” he says quietly and feels the small way Suguru’s lips upturn at the words beneath his palm. 

“I love you,” Suguru replies and Satoru wants to drown in it. 

—

Satoru turns seventeen as it snows outside the barely insulated walls of campus. He’s cold but only artificially, goosebumps rising on his skin whenever a draft wind sneaks beneath the door of Suguru’s dorm room. He’s strewn in the middle of his bed, in between Shoko and Suguru, who hold a tin of mini cupcakes up in front of him , singing happy birthday. Satoru smiles, feeling the heat against his cheeks from the number 17 candles they've lit and stuck on the cupcakes. 

“Alright make a wish,” Shoko says as they finish singing. Satoru blows out the candles and laughs, pulling his hands away from beneath the comforter to grab one of the cupcakes. The other two do the same as they settle around him on the small bed. They're squished together, barely any space for them all, let alone for all six blankets they've piled on as well.

Satoru can't tell where one of them ends and the other begins, Shoko has a leg tangled in Satoru’s own, Suguru interlocked their elbows and laid his head on Satoru’s shoulder. It's quiet as they eat the small treat, it's warm, Satoru breathes the moment in deeply. 

It's the first time in months that the scars across his chest and neck don't burn, the first time there isn't a constant pulse of pain behind his eyes or anywhere on his body for that matter. The missions have slowed miraculously with the holidays and their winter break is fast approaching. Satoru smiles around the frosting in his mouth, sighs happily when Shoko runs a hand up and down through his hair. 

“I hoped you wished for a haircut,” she says, eyes low and mouth set in her signature lazy smile. Satoru pokes her in the side.

“You cannot be mean to me on my birthday, that's the law,” He starts. “Besides I can't tell you what I wished for-”

“That another law?” Shoko chuckles and Satoru nods.

“Duh!”

Suguru laughs softly at his side, Satoru turns slightly to watch a small smile grace his lips. Suguru curls an arm around his waist, his hair is down and messy, his skin is paler from the lack of the blazing summer sun and his eyes are closed slightly, heavy with sleep. Satoru’s heart expands at the sweet vulnerable look to him, he hasn't seen it in a while. Suguru so unguarded, content. 

He leans down to place a kiss to the top of his head, breathes the scent of him in as he settles against the warmth of his friends. He moves a hand to tangle with Shoko’s own, the other to grasp at the arm Suguru has around him, breathing as he squeezes once, exhales when he receives a squeeze in return. Something in his chest settles, a hesitant warmth he allows to bloom once more. 

Satoru turns seventeen and his grip on his world is returning.

Outside a snow storm forms, Suguru watches it beat against the windows. 

—

Spring is the season of rebirth, Satoru finds himself especially fitting the season. He twirls his pencil in between his fingers, overly excited and giddy. 

In the gentle spring sun he stands and explains his new milestones, his latest achievements within his power and techniques, all explained through a smile of too many teeth and bouncing on his heels. The wind is cool as it passes through them in the courtyard bringing with it the sweet smell of cut grass and flowers. Satoru breathes it in, relishes the feel of it in his lungs. He stretches his arms up, palms open to the lazy rays of sun that break through the clouds. 

He feels good. He feels alive, he feels on top of the world again like he always has been. Like he always should’ve been. Satoru has made himself untouchable, truly masterfully powerful in record timing. The strongest, it feels different when he calls himself that this time around, it feels different in his mouth. 

The claim feels more earned, more than just a genetic win, a granted lucky birthright. Satoru worked, blood and sweat, to be able to get his power to where it was, to where he could truly be completely untouchable, unharmable. No one would ever hurt him like Toji again. 

“Cool huh?” He says as Shoko taps away on her phone, she smiles over at him though, throwing up a thumbs up that makes him laugh. Suguru stands next to her, eyes downcast and hands in his pockets, his uniform sways slightly with the passing breeze, Satoru frowns a bit. 

“Suguru, have you lost weight? You okay?” He asks, stepping towards him as Suguru’s eyes snap to attention. Shoko pockets her phone, glancing at Suguru next to her, Satoru sees something flash in her eyes as she looks at him, too quickly to place but enough to deepen Satoru’s frown. 

Suguru puts a hand up, waving away his concern as he smiles at Satoru, eyes crinkling up in that usual way of his, the usual way that Satoru is so infatuated with. This time though, his stomach twists slightly at the sight of it, he glances at Shoko, who is already looking at him. For once, Satoru doesn’t know what to do with her gaze.

“I think the heat is getting to me is all, I’m okay,” Suguru says, his voice low and words soft, a beat passes between them. Suguru leans back against the wall, bends slightly to plant his cheek to the top of Shoko’s head, who seems to exhale in relief at the gesture. Satoru feels it too, ten fold at the confirmation that Suguru is okay. He grins at him coming to stand next to him and bump their shoulders, he waits for the expected elbow to his ribs he’ll receive in retaliation except it never comes. Instead Suguru straightens up again to press a kiss to Satoru’s temple, eyes looking past him as he steps away. 

“Gonna shower,” he explains around a smile and over his shoulder as he walks away from them both. 

“‘Kay,” Satoru replies as he watches him go. A feeling of unease settles in his gut, Satoru runs through the hand symbols for red and blue to calm down. Shoko curls a hand around his elbow as he hears a familiar lighter flick and her inhaling. He looks down at her, at the white lighter in her hand and the lip she worries between her teeth. 

“Are you ever gonna give that back to him?” he jokes and Shoko looks up at him, twirls the lighter between her fingers much like Satoru had done with his pencil earlier. She seems to contemplate something as she looks at him, Satoru is about to ask her what when her text tone goes off. She lowers her eyes to answer it, sighing and pocketing the lighter as she pulls away from Satoru who raises infinity back up instinctively as soon as she’s no longer touching him. He smiles privately about that feat. 

“No.” Shoko answers his previous question as she walks away from him, no doubt needed for her skills in the infirmary, Satoru tries to remember if anyone had been sent out for missions that day but draws a blank. Satoru watches her go, standing in the shade in the cool grass, he shivers. He knows it has nothing to do with the chilled breeze of spring. 

—

He misses Suguru , he thinks as he probably coughs up a little bit of blood. There’s a hand at his shoulder and around his waist, hauling him up out of the car and helping him walk. Yaga, he thinks, it must be, though he doesn't remember how or why Yaga is with him.  He opens his mouth to ask just that but is interrupted by another hacking wet cough. He groans at the taste of blood in his mouth, at the rising alarm as his senses try to reboot. 

“Calm down,” Yaga says to him, realizing he’d woken up in his grasp.

“Ya-”

“Shush. Just focus on getting to Shoko, you’ll be fine,” Yaga replies and Satoru realizes he’s had his eyes closed the entire time, he opens them briefly to take in the school hallway and closes them again sharply as his head throbs with a sharp stab of pain behind his eyes. 

He’s nauseous from the pain of it and so annoyed at the familiarity of it. As his brain reboots bits and pieces of the day's events come back, a last minute mission, taken despite him being at his limit with infinity, taken despite being exhausted, taken and facing the very annoying consequences of. 

He feels wet angry tears build behind his eyelids, at the feeling of being so weak and hurt again. He holds them back this time, at least that he’s gotten good at that, besides he absolutely refuses to cry in front of Yaga. Suguru will never let him live it down.

Suguru , he sighs, head swimming from the migraine storm, he misses Suguru. 

“You can see him later, you need to rest,” Yaga grumbles above him and Satoru chuckles dryly realizing he had said that out loud. 

Once they make it to the infirmary, Shoko isn't there yet, it makes Satoru laugh a bit. Yaga grumbles as he puts Satoru to lay on one of the beds. Satoru groans as Yaga pulls his hands away from his beat body, going limp against the sheets and letting Infinity shield around him again. It's a straining effort, one that serves to exhaust the very little cursed energy he had left and his body as a whole but it makes him feel better having it on, afterall he so rarely has it down nowadays. 

“I’ll be right back,” Is all Yaga says as he steps away, no doubt on his way to dig Shoko from whatever corner she was procrastinating studying in. 

“I’ll be here,” he coughs back, Yaga doesn't laugh. 

Satoru isn't sure how long he stays alone breathing in that room, not long enough to pass out completely, but long enough that he’s biting his lip to keep from shouting out in pain. He brings a shaking hand up to clutch at the fading scar at his neck, feels the sting of it, the slice of it. He focuses his effort on infinity, a reminder that it will never happen again. 

“God fucking damnit,” He doesnt hear when Shoko comes in but she’s as his bedside in an instant, hands up and waiting just a few inches from his chest. “You’re exhausted,” She says, her voice sounds tired, beaten in a way that makes Satoru want to see her face with open eyes but he fights against the urge, he’s pretty sure he’ll throw up if he opens his eyes. God, where did his glasses go?

“Im peachy ‘Ko,” He mumbles and Shoko curses under her breath.

“Okay, lower it Satoru,” Shoko says, not meanly but close to it. Her voice is hard and clear, Satoru focuses on the sound of it, it's still Shoko after all, Shoko with her nice chiming voice.

“I-” He starts, interrupted by the sharp inhale Shoko takes at his voice. 

 “‘Toru,” She says after taking a breath, to steady herself he guesses, he must look awful to have her so worked up. “Either you drop it of your own volition or pass out and drop it then, which you know is going to make you feel worse.”

“I know,” he whispers. Passing out and waking up vulnerable and in pain is one of his top five worst feelings ever, one he has apparently forgotten how much he hated, it's been months since he’s stretched himself this thin. 

“You're exhausting yourself,” Shoko starts and Satoru sighs at the oncoming lecture. “I told you to come to me, after any of your missions just to bear some of the load from having infinity on 24/7, so you dont fucking fry your brain and end up in this position.” She says, her words are thick with worry and anger, Satoru can tell she is trying not to cry. Distantly he thinks he’d rather just die than be the reason for her crying. 

“Shoko-”

“Why won't either of you listen?” She doesn't shout, but its a near thing, effectively silencing him with her words. Either of you ? Satoru lets out a questioning hum that turns into more of a groan towards the end of it as he repeats Shoko’s words in his head. Either? Did she mean-?

“Wha-?” He tries again but is cut off as he hears Shoko take a deep breath, feels her brace her palms against the bars of the bed to steel herself, Satoru turns his head towards her voice, flinching at the phantom pain that flares up at the base of his throat from the movement. 

“If it's not you in this bed it's Suguru and never once are either of you here of your own will,” She bites out, harsh and steady but tired. He almost wishes she would scream and yell at him, that would sting less. “Do you know what it's like to drag him in here by the way?” She sniffles, voice wavering. “Just to make sure he gets any rest at all? It used to be harder but he's lost so much damn weight recently it's like nothing,” she huffs and Satoru feels his heart still at the words. Suguru has been here? Laid beneath Shoko’s healing palms just to sleep? Why hadn’t he told him? Why hadn’t she told him? How could he not notice? He opens his mouth but has no idea what to say, where to even start. 

He had noticed Suguru’s dip in weight, the bags under his eyes and the overall limpness in his body but he had passed it off as Suguru being tired. That’s what Suguru would tell him at least when he would bring it up, only to be waved off, with a roll of eyes and a chaste kiss to his cheek. 

“I’m fine,” Suguru would say. “You’re going to make yourself sick with worry Satoru,” Ridiculous Satoru believed him. Easily swayed over because yeah, maybe Satoru was just worried for nothing, looking for signs of trouble where there weren't any. Besides they were alive and Toji wasnt and that meant everything was fine now and Satoru had to stop looking for ways it wasn't. It was easier to do that. 

There beneath Shoko’s gaze, the fragile peace Satoru had convinced himself of winning shatters around him. 

“If it's not him withering away in my hands it's you bleeding out in between them,” she says, voice barely more than a whisper. “In so much pain from a limitless inflicted migraine you can't even talk. And not one of you is listening.” She finishes, slamming her hand down on the bars once. Satoru listens to her breath, uneven and jagged, flooded with emotion that Satoru hadn't known. 

“Shoko,” he says, feels it's all he feels he can say. He breathes deeply as he opens his eyes, he wants to look at her. He sighs when he notices the lights of the infirmary had been dimmed, Shoko is staring down at him, silent tears tracking down her face and bouncing against infinity as they land.

“I told you before, I can't pretend to know what it felt like, what that day was like,” she starts again, her voice even but small. “I won't ever try too, but,” she moves a hand from the bar and settles it just above infinity. “This isn't how it goes away Satoru, this isn't how you fix it.” Satoru holds his breath as he looks at her, as he really looks at her for what feels like the first time in months. Her hair is longer and slightly darker, there's bags under her eyes he had attributed to her constant studying for her medical tests but now, now he knows there’s just as many nightmarish sleepless nights for her as there is for him. 

“Do you think I'm too weak to help you?” She asks quietly and Satoru doesn't know what to answer. “Not everything is brute strength, being the strongest,” She pauses, holding his gaze as she keeps talking. “Does not make it go away. You must know that.”

Satoru stays quiet, head swirling with too much information and too much pain to give Shoko all the words of apology and affirmation that she deserves.

Shoko seems to understand that though, her eyes sad as she smiles softly at him. “You do? Don't you? I'm sorry for your sake. I wish it did.” She says sincerely and Satoru huffs as he gives and feels the first of what will no doubt be many tears slip down his cheeks. 

“You don't have to talk to me today,” Shoko says, firmly and decisively. Satoru can't hold back a smile at her tone, despite the deep pain he was in he feels affection bloom in his chest right alongside it. “Just let me help you now, let's start there.”

Satoru nods, eyes wet and burning. “Okay.” 

Shoko smiles as she feels infinity fall, as Satoru sags against the bed completely depleted of any and all of his remaining energy. As Shoko manipulated her own to heal his body and alleviate his pain he wonders why the hell why didnt come to her sooner. Shoko presses two cool fingers to his temple, a palm covers his eyes, focusing her energy there. The pain instantly going from a ten thousand on the pain scale chart to a manageable hundred. 

“I'm telling Yaga you're benched,” Shoko says after a while, breaking the steady silence between them, she removes her hand from his eyes, Satoru guesses it's so he can see just how serious she is about it.

“You can't-” Shoko brings a finger to his lips and Satoru fights the childish urge to lick it. 

“He's been trying to get you time off for months now, you're taking the suspension,” she says with finality. “You and Suguru.” She stresses. Satoru doesn't miss the way her voice lilts as she says his name. 

Satoru meets her eyes again, a million unasked questions in and a thousand more worries on his lips. 

“Is he?” He falters, tries to find the right words because he knows the answer already, doesn't he? Hasn't he all along?

“You should talk to him,” is all Shoko says, she bites her lip, Satoru catches the way she holds back a fresh wave of tears. “Please.” The word is quiet but it might as well have been shouted through a megaphone in the silent room. Satoru brings a hand to curl around one of hers, who sighs deeply as she opens her hand to hold his.

“I will Sho,” He promises, squeezing the hand in his. “I will.” 

Shoko stares at him a second longer before nodding. “Good. Don't make me worry about you like this again.” She says sternly as she pulls her hand away to continue her work on Satoru. Satoru leans against the hand cradling his head, watches the way Shoko smiles gently at the action. An olive branch of sorts.

“I'm sorry,” he starts, voice gruff with his own tears as he looks up at her. He opens his mouth to continue, prepared to lay himself bare at Shoko’s feet in apology for any and all the worry he had caused her but Shoko shakes her head.

“No ‘Toru,” She says, carding her fingers through the hair at his temple, gently, as if he was made of fine silk, dissolving beneath her hand.  “It's okay. We're okay.” She leans down, Satoru feels her press her lips to his temple, he sucks a sharp breath in as a wave of emotion tears through him. She lingers for a second longer, Satoru thinks it's just to feel him beneath her touch. “We’re okay.” She repeats and Satoru nods shakely. 

“Yeah,” he breathes out, letting her words sink into his skin, along with her cursed energy, traveling through his blood stream and settling against his bones. He repeats it in his head until he starts to believe it, until he can open his eyes again in less pain and his breathing evens out. Underneath her touch, the world doesn't end, Satoru can try again. “Thank you,” he says once he feels Shoko pull her technique back but continues carding her fingers through his hair, her other hand laying firm against his chest. 

“Rest, I'll be here,” she mumbles, Satoru hums and closes his eyes, listening to Shoko pull a chair beside him and lower the railing nearest to her. As sleep pulls at the edges of his frayed consciousness he feels her lay her head on his thigh and tangling her fingers with Satoru’s. Satoru dreams of the first time she had offered him a cigarette and the warmth that took root in his heart from their touch. 

Shoko keeps her word, the very next day Yaga hands him his notice of temporary suspension papers and ushers him straight back towards his room. He’s handed Suguru’s as well, as he was scheduled to return from a mission later that day and Yaga would be busy in meetings, something about some visiting special grade teacher or another.  

“There’s no room for argument,” Yaga had told him. “Make sure he knows that.” Satoru had given an over exaggerated mock salute that on any other day would have earned him a swift hit across the head, this time Yaga only grumbled under his breath. 

Satoru was currently on the hunt to do exactly that. He had felt Suguru’s cursed energy return to campus a few minutes past noon, Satoru sighed a bit in relief that the mission had not gone on any longer. He had been eating lunch with Shoko and Nanami, aka, eating lunch with Shoko and endlessly annoying Nanami. He gives Suguru fifteen minutes since he’d first felt his presence, time he always used after missions to wash the acquired grime from it. He says his goodbyes as soon as the fifteen are up, trailing after Suguru’s energy like a hunting dog.

Suguru doesn't notice him instantly once he finds him, Satoru hadn't been concealing his energy but he does once he realized Suguru hadn't seen him. He watches him for a few seconds, stood at the other end of the hallway from where Suguru sits on one of the benches strewn around campus. His hair is wet, falling around him in a thick curtain and leaving wet spots against his shirt. He has his head leaned against his hands, Satoru cant see his face but his posture tells him enough about the mission he had finished, about the exhaustion the bears heavy against his back and settles into the very fabric of his bones. Satoru watches him suck in a deep breath and hates the dejected way it comes back out. 

Yeah, ‘I’m fine’ my ass, he thinks. Though he quickly stifles the stray anger in the thought away, he couldn't be mad at Suguru for not being honest with him. Not when Satoru was so willing to accept the lies in the first place, not when he was telling the same ones back. 

He lets his energy flow from him, no longer concealed as he walks toward him. Suguru stirs, Satoru watches the way he shakes himself out of his numbness, watches the breath he takes as he pushes his shoulders up and forces himself to sit straight, the smile he throws at Satoru is no different than the usual adoring ones he greets him with but it turns his stomach. It doesn't reach his eyes, Satoru can see they're red rimmed and sunken, they look surprised to see him.

Satoru takes his own steading breath as he gets within arms reach of him, smiles when Suguru makes space for him to stand between his open legs. He focuses infinity away from his hands as he brings them up to grip onto his broad shoulders, moving the wet strands away and to his back. 

“You're gonna catch a cold like this Suguruuu,” he chastises, smile widening as Suguru looks up at him, mouth slightly agape as he takes Satoru in. 

“What Are you doing here?” Suguru asks, voice low as he looks Satoru over, his skin prickles with the weight of Suguru’s gaze, Satoru realizes how little he’s actually felt of it as of late. “Didn’t you also have a mission scheduled?”

Satoru waves a hand through the air, trying to find the best possible way of wording their joint suspension, knowing Suguru was probably not going to take kindly to it, especially if he felt he hadn't done anything wrong. Satoru himself was wrangling with the conflicting feelings of being benched that he would most certainly voice if Yaga and Shoko hadn't made it clear how that wouldn't change a single thing. 

“What sort of greeting is that! Aren't you happy to see meee? I'm happy to see you!” He says, enjoying the annoyance that flashes in Suguru’s eyes and the small and fond smile that appears on his lips. 

“Yeah yeah, now what's up?” Suguru replies and Satoru pouts but continues on. 

“I did have one but as of today, you and I have no missions for two whole weeks,” Satoru exclaims, grinning widely and shaking his hands side to side cheerily. “Exciting right!” Suguru looks less than convinced at Satoru’s production and raises an eyebrow at him.

“And why would that be?” He asks, voice steely in the empty hallway and Satoru sighs. 

“Yaga thought we deserved the time off,” he says and it's not a complete lie but Suguru has always been able to see right through him, the boy beneath him opens his mouth to question him, probably to argue, Satoru cuts him off. “Forrrr, reasons I want to talk to you about.”

Suguru closes his mouth at that and stares up at him, Satoru tries to meet his gaze and takes in the way Suguru’s eyes don't stay on his own. Instead it seemed to bounce from the top of his hair to his chin. Something in his chest clenches tightly at the realization that Suguru won't meet his gaze, something he’d never done before. An urgency rises beneath his skin as alarm bells ring in his head. This is probably worse than I though t, he thinks. He takes a step backwards from Suguru, whose body follows him instinctually, pushing forward in his seat to keep the distance between them the same.

“Talk to me?” Suguru repeats lowly and Satoru nods his head.

“Right now,” He says, trying to keep the slow rising panic out of his voice. “Now now now, let's go.” Satoru feels an unfamiliar cursed energy appear down the hallway and internally groans, he does not want to get stuck exchanging pleasantries and introductions right now. 

Suguru opens his mouth and Satoru prays to whatever God higher than him that it wasn't to argue but Suguru’s words never come. Interrupted instead by a higher, louder, feminine voice. 

“Are you Getou?”

Satoru turns to the source of the voice, a tall blonde woman, pretty, he decides.

“What kind of woman is your type?” The woman continues, posing cutely as she stares past him to Suguru. Who is staring back steadily, though Satoru can see the slight furrow to his brow, Satoru laughs in his head at his poor boyfriend, he’s had enough surprises for one day. 

Satoru smiles at her, with too many teeth and tilting his head to glower at her with his eyes unobstructed. Deciding very quickly that whatever this was, was not happening. At least not today. As he opens his mouth to speak he reaches down to clasp his hand around one of Suguru’s wrists and pulls him to his feet behind him. Suguru makes a sound of protest but goes willingly. 

“His type in women is men,” Satoru answers for him gleefully, smiling wider when Suguru curses his name out in aggravation behind him. “Mine is women with long hair,” he continues as he starts moving towards the woman, who is smiling back, amused at the whole scene. “Oh! and men with long hair,” He says as they step past her, Satoru watches the way she takes in his eyes, leaving no room for error in terms of his identity. “Bye,” he throws out once they've passed her, turning the corner with Suguru in tow like an uncooperative dog on a leash. Satoru can feel his annoyance rising behind him, he smiles privately at it. He’d rather an annoyed Suguru than the numb, subdued, one he’d been greeted with earlier. 

“Satoru,” Suguru says, voice heady and low, the same voice he uses when he’s trying not to blow up at Satoru. A lost cause most of the time but Satoru plays along. 

“Suguruuu,” He purrs back. 

The boy sighs loudly behind him as he moves his wrist in Satoru’s grip instead to interlace their fingers and hold his hand fully. Satoru’s skin alights at the touch, sensitive and giddy at feeling his hand rub against his again after so, so long. 

“That was extremely rude, you know?” Suguru says and Satoru shrugs as their door rooms come into view. 

“Nothing new for me,” He replies, turning to throw a smirk over shoulder, one that Suguru rolls his eyes at. 

“You're horrible,” Suguru mutters as Satoru opens the door to his room, ushering them inside by their conjoined hands. Suguru lets his hand go as Satoru slides the door behind them, plopping heavily to sit on Satoru’s unmade bed. Suguru sighs as he sits, quiet and almost unnoticeable, if it wasn't for the way Satoru is watching him like a hawk he wouldn’t have noticed it. Satoru sits down next to him, criss crossed and leaning against his bed frame, he smiles when Suguru turns his head to look at him, his heart drops a bit when Suguru gives him the same dead eyed smile back. 

“So, what’s the deal with our ‘time off’?” Suguru air quotes. “I doubt those higher ups felt we deserve that.” He mutters, voice dark and Satoru crosses his hands over his chest, hands smoothing up and down his arms. 

“Well honestly,” He worries, his bottom lip between his teeth, watching the way Suguru follows the movement. “‘Suspended’ is the official word.” He air quotes back and steadies himself for the oncoming storm. 

Suguru, despite looking so tired, gathers the energy to scoff, eyes pooling in anger and annoyance as his voice rises. “What the fuck? Suspended? On what terms!”

Satoru raises his hands above his head, trying to placate Suguru before it all escalated. “Just a little r and r.” He says trying to joke, Suguru throws him a glare and Satoru sighs. “Mental health actually. And before you start, it wasn't from the higher up specifically, its Yaga. And Shoko,”

Suguru looks taken aback at the mention of their dear friend's name, he deflates a bit where he sits. Satoru watches him pull at a stray string on his sleeve, not looking at him anymore. “They're worried about us, about you.” Satoru says softly, Suguru scoffs, it sounds mean to his ears. “Im worried about you,” He stresses, watching the way Suguru’s chest rises and falls a bit quicker, how his shoulders tense at his words.

“I told you,” Suguru mutters, looking down at his hands. “I told Shoko,” He spits her name out, almost accusingly. Satoru hates the sound of it, he moves slowly onto his knees, crawling toward where Suguru sits at the edge of the bed until they're a few inches apart. “I'm fine.” Suguru finishes and Satoru doesn't know how he ever believed him before when he had said it. 

“No,” He whispers as Suguru whips his head toward him, eyebrows furrowed in anger, sickly pale skin blotchy red with rage. “No my love you’re not. We’re not.” He adds before Suguru could start to protest. “I’m sorry ‘Guru,” he continues, straining to keep his words from wobbling. “I’m sorry I haven't been honest with you, with myself. I thought I was fine, that I was over what happened with Toji,” Satoru feels like he’s been stabbed all over again seeing the slight flinch in Suguru’s hands give at the mentioned name. “But, I think, I’ve been doing it all wrong,” He whispers. Suguru inhales a sharp breath, Satoru catches the way his shoulders shake slightly and the hands he clenched into fists against his legs. Satoru pushes on, afraid if he stopped he wouldn't be able to again. “But this isn't about me right now, entirely. I want you to talk to me, and don't bullshit me with another ‘I’m fine’. Just, talk to me.” He pauses to make sure Suguru isn't about to run out the door though he’s pretty sure he is no doubt contemplating it. 

“Please Suguru,” he pleads. “It’s just me, I can't be okay if you aren’t.” He puts it plainly. “I can’t keep pretending that we’re both just fine.”

Suguru exhales deeply, shoulders dropping completely and arms moving to lean back on the bed. “Okay,” is all he says, Satoru lets out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding. 

“Okay,” he echoes and moves just centimeters closer, still kneeled on the bed next to him. He can feel Suguru’s warmth despite them not touching yet, Satoru clenches his fingers against the fabric at his knees, trying to distract himself from reaching out, not wanting to overwhelm Suguru. “You first then,” he says, softly. “And then me I promise, even though I think it’ll be about the same thing, no?” he chuckles quietly, expecting at least a slight smile in return but he doesn't get that, instead Suguru’s eyes whip to the window, swallowing harshly at the words.

Not for the first time, Satoru feels he is trying to complete a puzzle with the wrong pieces.

“Oh?” he asks quietly. “What is it then?”

Suguru blinks a few times as he stares at the window, though Satoru doubts he’s actually looking at anything. He lets him though, waits as patiently as possible as he lets him gather his thoughts. He follows along to Suguru’s breathing, feeling himself calm slightly when Suguru’s breath evens out. 

“Well-” he starts and finishes. “Okay.”

“You’re right,” he starts again and Satoru fights the urge to say like usual. “I guess I’m not as fine as I say, as I think I am. I’m just-” Suguru inhales, runs a hand through his hair and smooths down his solemn face. “Do you know what it’s like?” He asks into the open space in front of him, Satoru waits for more. “What it tastes like I mean,” Suguru continues. “What a curse tastes like?” 

Satoru stares at him, unsure if he really wants him to answer that. 

“Have you ever wondered? It's disgusting, more than disgusting,” Suguru explains. “Like rotting vomit, and even that sounds better than what it actually is.” Suguru huffs a dry laugh. “It’s horrible ‘Toru,” he sighs and despite the circumstance, Satoru feels lighter by the use of his nickname. “Disgusting,” Suguru spits as if he can taste it in his mouth at that moment, horrifically, Satoru realizes he probably does. “The taste never changes, no matter how low or high level the curse its the same,” He pauses, hands tightening again at his knees. “It's the same thing every time, the same routine and for what, I just-” Suguru cuts himself off as he breathes, steadying himself, Satoru does the same.

“I just keep asking myself what's the point and don't,” He raises a hand to point at Satoru, to cut him off before he begins. “I don't want moral arguments. I’ve had just about every single one repeating in my head. I just can't help thinking about-” He cuts himself off again, seeming to choose his words carefully, bites his lip in worry over them. Satoru hums, just to show he’s listening, to show he’s there and waiting, no matter what Suguru says.

“What if we didn't have too Satoru?” he asks, like an admission of guilt and Satoru tries to follow his line of thinking. “If I didn't have too,” He whispers, so quietly that Satoru is sure if he wasn't actively looking at him he wouldn't have caught it. Satoru takes a moment as his words circle in his head, as their futures together rewrite themselves in his head under a second. 

“If you wanted to stop being a sorcerer I’m sur-”

“No.” Suguru cuts him off sharply, effectively silencing him again. “No I mean. What if there wasn't any need for us at all. No curses to exorcize. None to swallow and use just-”

“A world with no curses,” Satoru finishes for him and Suguru gives a slow nod. 

By the way Suguru continues to refuse to look at him and the tenseness around his words, Satoru discerns this isn't just some far off fantasy, some distant day dream that helps to soothe the aches and pains within him. It’s something brewing into so much more. Satoru is careful as he speaks again, voice level as he asks, dreading the answer. “Do you know, what you're actually saying when you say that?”

“A world with no curses. What that would mean?” He stresses trying to see if he is way off the mark or terrifyingly right on it. “A world without non sorcerers.” He finishes, the words lay heavy between them, unignorable as Suguru looks on ahead.

Suguru doesn’t answer and that's answer enough. 

“An impossible world then,” Suguru hasn't looked at him still and Satoru feels his patience and sanity snap as the lack of his eyes on him finally takes its toll. He feels desperate suddenly as the words wash over his skin, as the seriousness and insaneness lying beneath that statement sinks in. It makes his fingers tremble against the fabric of his pants that bundle in his grip. 

It's in that same moment of desperation that he moves, throws infinity off his skin like an ill fitting coat as he grasps onto his shoulders and hauls himself directly onto Suguru’s lap, legs at his side and hands clutching at his face and stray long hairs. Satoru gasps as the full blown contact jolts against his skin, as he feels Suguru beneath his hands again, as he presses them chest to chest and turns his head softly towards him. 

Satoru moves slowly, as if to not spook Suguru, one hand coming up to quickly remove his sunglasses from his face, throwing them behind them somewhere. It's Suguru’s turn to gasp then, violet eyes finally, finally, forced to meet his own. 

He doesn't know what it feels like to be on the receiving end of his Six Eyes, doesn't know if Suguru can feel the physical track of his gaze as he takes him all in but Satoru figures he can, if how his breath trembles as Satoru blinks, as he sees him, for what feels like the first time in months is any indication. 

And what Six eyes find is nothing outstanding . 

No otherworldly reasoning for the circles underneath Suguru’s eyes besides the obvious, besides what a blind man could see but what Satoru hadn't, had missed, had been willfully blind too in search of his own peace of mind. 

There laid bare beneath him, written all over his skin, on his body lay grief . The same blood tinted grief that stains Satoru. Stains that Satoru tried to work off his skin with sweat, because the stronger he grew, the less the grief hurt, the more it shrank, until it could just be a distant memory he could ignore. 

Satoru is hot beneath Suguru’s palms, bringing trembling hands against his thighs. A hand comes up to his chest, slowly, tentatively and Satoru is both thankful and agonized. How long had it been since they’d touched each other this way? How long since Satoru has even breathed the same breath as him? Always so busy, so kept apart, anguishing separately and differently. Suguru’s hand stops over his heart and Satoru wants to cry, he chokes on a laugh, on a sob, he heaves a deep uneven breath as the hand on his chest travels upwards, fingers lingering on the slightly raised patch of skin on his neck. 

The scar can barely be classified as that. To the untrained eye it would be unnoticeable, but Suguru knows where it is, knows exactly where Toji’s blade pierced Satoru’s skin, remembers it all too vividly. Satoru clutches at the hand at his neck with both of his, desperate and tight, he brings the hand to his mouth, presses tear stained kisses to Suguru’s palm, fingers, kisses opened mouth and nearly sobbing against his wrist. 

The touches are too much all at once and not at all. He feels oversensitive and overstimulated as he always does when he’s gone too long without Suguru’s meaningful touch. He wants to feel nothing but Suguru and wants to do nothing but that for the rest of his life. And if his life were to end in the next five minutes he'd consider it a life well lived. 

Maybe it's stupid and maybe he's stupid but it wasn't until that moment that he realized how true that was to him. The underlying truth that had been thrumming inside him, buzzing between Infinity and his veins. That he would rather die than be without Suguru. Revealed with the sudden awareness of how close he is to losing him.

“Explain it to me,” He gasps out against Suguru’s thumb as the hand on his thigh tightens.  “Talk to me about what's going on in that head of yours because,” he laughs, humorless and wet as his eyes cloud with tears. “Because I’m pretty sure it's full of nonsense.” Just like mine, he wants to add but he doesn't, because when Suguru’s pretty violet eyes meet his, he seems to know that. 

“Is it nonsense?” Suguru’s voice is tense, just like the rest of his body. 

“Yes,” Satoru hisses, overwhelmed by all their points of contact, forcing his body to refamiliarize itself with Suguru’s, to give it all its craving for months on end. He feels like he's on fire, he's distantly aware that he is trembling all over, he's clutching at Suguru’s shirt so hard he's positive he could tear it in two if Suguru breathes too hard. And yet, Suguru still feels like he's slipping through his fingers anyways. “Complete utter nonsense. A total impossibility!” 

Suguru huffs a laugh and Satoru hates to hear it, hates to see the lack of a smile on his lips, the way his eyes turn from him again. Satoru’s hand moves before he's aware of it, fingertips pulling chin forward and Suguru’s gaze back to him and the world seems to right itself again as he stares wide eyed back at Satoru, who refuses to go another second without his eyes on him ever again. 

“You know that dont you?” He whispers, fragile and unbelieving. Suguru doesnt look away and Satoru curls his hands together at his nape, feeling the soft tresses of dark hair against the back of his hands. “You know.” 

They say nothing for a while, just share each other's breath as they look at each other. Satoru hates the way it feels like they're trying to get their fill of each other, trying to commit their features to memory before leaving. Satoru traces his fingers over his features, not bothering to stop the steady stream of tears falling from his eyes. He thinks back to that morning and wishes he could warn himself of what was to come, of the situation he finds them in, of the way his heart is threatening to tear. 

“What if though?” Suguru breaks the silence between them as Satoru runs his fingers down the slope of his cheekbones and over the soft curve of his lips. 

“What do you mean?” he sniffles, petulant and so,so sad. 

“What if I made it real? If it wasn't impossible?” The question almost makes him laugh. It’s much too simple, with too much left unsaid but Satoru can read between the lines that he now knows are there. 

The road to accomplishing such an impossible task is soaked in blood, oceans of it, years of it pulling and pushing against earth to create a curse free world. 

“What a stupid, useless endeavor,” Satoru mumbles before he could help himself, muffled by the shoulder he brings his mouth down to. “A pointless one,” He says and kisses the base of Suguru’s neck, trails upwards slowly, stops at his chin to breathe, he lays his cheek against Suguru’s, tightens his hold on his neck, and breathes deeply as Suguru’s arms come up to wrap around his waist, pulling them impossibly closer. Like this he can feel the way his breath trembles in his lungs, the minute way his shoulder’s shake as he holds back his own emotions, Satoru turns slightly to kiss at his cheek, wet and salty beneath his lips. “You’d be throwing your life away on something so fruitless,” He whispers. 

“Because this isn't fruitless?” Suguru scoffs, voice rises but he doesn’t pull away and Satoru counts that win. He moves, pulls them face to face again, Suguru’s eyes are red rimmed and beautiful, Satoru could have one hundred lifetimes with him and they’d never be enough. But Satoru wants, wants him now and forever and for as long as eternity will hold for them, he wants and wants and he’ll be damned if he doesn't get it. 

He can't say he’s wrong, not outright because Satoru, despite what many will say about him, really isn't stupid. He knows there is more than some truth to the deluded ideals Suguru has acquired, born from the reality they face every single day. He knows just how fruitless their lives feel, how constant, tiring routine that never ends, that won't end. Not ever, not even after they're both long dead, curses will live on, their techniques will live on and pass down, in a way they will never die, they will never rest and people will continue to die alongside them.

Pointless, meaningless, cruel deaths. Satoru fears he will never stop mourning, never stop grieving, fears that once the flowers on their loved ones' graves wilt, they'll have to replace those and add to newer, fresher graves. Grief will fade and renew its claim over him until the end, no matter how strong he gets, no matter how untouchable.

He stares at Suguru a moment longer, takes in the furrow of his brows and the shadow beneath his eyes, traces the protrusions of his cheeks with his gaze and tries not to sob at how frail Suguru looks. How had he missed it? How didn’t he see? He couldn't see past his own grief, past the sweat clouding his vision, past his own spiral away from the pain of that miserable day. In his scramble to become the strongest, he lost sight of what mattered the most, what he wanted to protect and keep above anything. 

“It isn't,” He says, weak to his own ears and he smiles slightly at the way Suguru rolls his eyes at that, like he knew he would. “It isn't pointless Suguru, what we do.”

“Are you trying to convince yourself?” Suguru scoffs again, a mean sound, emphasized with the way he snatches his hands back from Satoru’s body, places them at either side of Satoru’s knees, no longer touching him. Satoru quickly counts his blessings that Suguru did not completely push him off despite how he almost cried out from the sudden lack of his touch. He despairs a bit, eyes glued to the long fingers that twist in the sheets beneath them, Satoru comes to terms with the fact that he would kill to feel them on his body again. 

Despite the breath stuck in his throat he speaks again. 

“I said explain it to me then,” his words are breathy, as if he'd just ran the length of campus a hundred times, his own hands are wrenched together against his chest, twitching idly, fighting to not reach out and find purchase again in Suguru’s hair, respecting the fragile boundary Suguru placed between them that Satoru aches to shatter. “Explain it, your plan that is totally going to change the world for the better.” He tries to go for sarcasm, to make Suguru laugh, like he always does at Satoru’s snide little comments. Instead Suguru’s eye twitches, irritated and tired. But he doesn’t throw Satoru off him so again, small victories.

Suguru opens his mouth just to close it again. “I don't really have one,” Suguru mumbles out, making Satoru chuckle slightly. 

“You suck at this whole genocidal maniac thing.” Satoru smiles when Suguro rolls his eyes this time, a practiced action, full of familiarity, it fills Satoru with hope. 

“I was hoping to stray from the whole maniac aspect,” Suguru replies and Satoru can tell he's only half joking. Which is concerning but Satoru is more than overwhelmed with everything that has happened in the last twenty minutes they've been talking and can't help the almost manic laugh he lets out himself. It bubbles past his throat and out his lips before he can stop it, giggles and hiccups so hard his belly aches and he doubles over to plant his forehead against Suguru’s collarbone.

“I don't think there's any getting away from that,” He says in between fits of laughter, he lifts his head to find Suguru smiling, softly, almost unnoticeable, but there. Satoru feels he could fly if he wanted to. “So silly.” He says around a laugh, bringing a finger to tap against his nose. 

“It's not silly!” Suguru argues, but his lips are upturned and there's a fresh sheen of tears in his eyes, the hands at his side come back up again and Satoru gasps as he feels them against his face, firmly holding his face in place, mere inches from Suguru, who looks into his eyes, searching and anguished. “Satoru…” He whispers, his name falls from Suguru’s lips drenched in the need to be understood. 

“I know,” he whispers back. “But-”

“If the world was only sorcerers, curses wouldn't exist, there would be no need for us. For any of the countless missions and countless deaths,” Suguru explains, words airy and soft, as if explaining a complicated equation to a child. It pisses Satoru off slightly. 

“What a simple solution!” He exclaims, hands clapping together. “How has no one thought of it before!” Sarcastic and bordering on childish but he really is getting tired of entertaining this any further.

“Im serious Satoru,” he groans out and Satoru wants to pull his hair out. 

“I know that, that doesnt mean youre right or that you're actually even thinking anything through,” Satoru starts, voice rising as grows frantic. “Let's plan it actually! I'll help, here's your first step, you go out kill, I don't know,” he hums, bringing a finger to his chin as he pretends to ponder. “let's give you a couple hundred of a kill count, what then?”

The resounding silence that follows his question serves to both prove his point and damn them. 

“What then Suguru?” he whispers, bringing their faces closer, until he’s only an inch away from Suguru’s lips, until they're sharing the same breath as he continues to speak. “Then, they’ll most likely issue your notice of execution. They’ll send sorcerers out for you Suguru,” He whispers and feels the gasping inhale he takes as Satoru’s lips bump his faintly. “Would you kill them too? When they find you and bring you back? When they bring you to me.” His voice is harsh, just like Suguru breathing beneath him. 

“Would you kill me?” Suguru asks then, almost sweetly, as if flirting and Satoru regrets his line of questioning immediately because with just one, it's turned back on him because he realizes Suguru would let him.

 Satoru can't bear the thought, his stomach twists, his breath catches and the desperate urge to stomp his feet and cry and yell claws at his throat. He just wanted an afternoon with Suguru, and instead he's trying to talk his stupid crazy boyfriend away from defecting and objectively, ruining their night. A petty want that covers what Satoru truly wants, needs. What he realized early into this conversation he would do to get what he wanted.

That's not how you get what you want, his mothers voice rings in his ears and he knows, he knows she's right but he also knows, more than anything, that he won't live without Suguru. Let alone live after ending his life. He can't even fathom it. So he answers the question, honestly.

“I’d die before ever killing you.” 

The silence that follows is kinda funny, Suguru’s eyes seem to pop out of his head, words rendering him stock still beneath Satoru’s hands. Satoru watches the way his fingers twitch at his sides, watches them the whole way up as they come to press against Suguru’s temples, Eyes closing as if pained, Satoru counts his breaths. 

He takes ten deep breaths before opening his mouth.

“… This is serious.” Suguru says, words icy and eyes hard, searching Satoru for any trace of mockery. Satoru smiles softly when he sees the exact moment Suguru realizes he's just as serious as him.

“I am serious,” He didn't need to say it out loud but he did. The words seem to knock Suguru off balance, if he wasn't already sitting down he’s sure he would have fallen over. Instead Suguru leans back slightly and lets his head fall in his hands, hair a gorgeous veil around him, Satoru stares down at the crown of his head and waits.

Ten more deep breaths.

“What?” The word is muffled and hoarse but Satoru catches it anyways. He shrugs even though Suguru doesn't lift his head to see it. “That makes no sense that just, you can’t just do tha- You can't just say that!” Suguru looks up at him then and it's the most alive he's seen him in months, Satoru drinks it in, overcome with the fire that blazes in Suguru’s eyes, at the way the heat of his gaze feels against his skin, at the dark flush of rage that colors Suguru’s cheeks. He's beautiful, he's the most beautiful thing Satoru has ever seen. He wants nothing more than a hundred lifetimes of that beautiful face. He’s resigned himself to get nothing less. 

“I can, I did,” He shrugs again and Suguru lets out a pained breath. Satoru rolls his eyes then, blinks away the remaining tears on his lashes and bats away Suguru’s hands from his face as he tangles his own in Suguru’s long hair yet again. This is the reason I was given hands , he thinks, to run through dark locks of hair, to trace away fallen tears, to cling onto strong, shaking shoulders and hold him down. Suguru stares up at him and it's all he's ever wanted. Suguru’s lips part, Satoru follows the action with his eyes, watches his words fail as Suguru’s whole world seems to shift on its axis.

“To answer your question honestly,” Satoru starts, words soft yet loud in the quiet room. “I wouldn't kill you, I couldn't. Suguru, how could you ask me that?” His words trail off into an emotion soaked whisper, emphasized by the soft kisses he plants to the top of Suguru’s cheekbone. He lingers there, tastes the salt of fresh tears beneath his lips, kisses again for good measure. “They’d send me for you, because the only person who can kill you-”

“-Is you.” Suguru finishes for him, breathless and miserable. 

Satoru nods and places a kiss underneath each eye. “They’d send me after you,” He continues his previous hypothetical. “I wouldn't try too hard to find you at first, I wouldn't want to. I'd push it as far as I could,” He mumbles into Suguru’s skin, kisses the words along the curve of his ear, smiles when Suguru shivers at his touch. 

“Yaga would be pissed with you,” Suguru says weakly, Satoru sighs into his neck when Suguru’s hands return to his waist, tugging them closer, presses them chest to chest and spans one large hand against his back to keep him there, Satoru can feel his heart beat against his. Racing intune to each other, it sings in his blood, pounds in his ears, each pulse makes him feel more alive. 

Like that, he figures, is as close to heaven as he’ll ever truly get. I was born just for this , he thinks. This, only this, no one else could have Suguru this way. Honored, they called him. Special. He knows that, has always known that, but feeling the shattering breath Suguru takes puff out against his neck, the warmth that seeps from his hands, no one will ever have that, no one other than him. He, alone. 

“Nothing new for me,” he echoes his earlier words and smiles when Suguru chuckles, a deep rattling sound. Satoru loves it, he wants to drink his laughs in, and wants to taste them in his mouth. “They’d send me after you and after a while, I'd find you. Because I wanted to see you, because I can't,” The words choke in his throat and hands tighten in Suguru’s hair, twisting to force his eyes back on his own. Suguru shudders but goes willingly, pretty eyes wide and searching, mouth agape and Satoru is so enraptured. 

“I can't,” a shuddering breath, “Be without you. Dont you understand that? Suguru ?” he whispers, a hair's breadth away from Suguru’s mouth. He feels rather than hears the groan Suguru lets out at his words, Sartoru’s head spins from it. “I would put up a fight, sure but kill you?” He shakes his head. “Oh, could you kill me?” He doesn't give him a chance to answer instead he kisses him then, desperate and filthy and nearly cries at the moan that reverberates from Suguru’s lungs into his mouth, who kisses back just as fiercely. The taste of blood is hot on their tongues and Satoru is not sure whose it is but he doesn't care, he kisses Suguru until he can't breathe and then more. He doesn't stop, doesn't want to, until he's consumed wholly and entirely by Suguru. 

It wouldn't be a bad way to go, he thinks. If this is the last thing he feels, if Suguru is the last thing he sees, no not bad at all. 

They pull away, just enough to pant into each other's open mouths, enough for Satoru to get his words out in between them.

“The only way the impossible world you want is born, is if I die,” he all but spits out and Suguru opens his previously closed eyes, staring up unflinchingly at Satoru as his words sink in.”Because I won't kill you Suguru, I can't. So please,” He doesn't shrink away from the fresh tears that pool hot and heavy at his eyelashes, doesn't let his lip quiver as he begs. “Please don't make me do that.” 

He kisses him again, softly this time, though no less consuming. “Don't make me do that when there’s no need,” He says, moving to lay his forehead on Suguru’s, watches the tears that pool at his lashes, he thumbs them away as Suguru breathes in deeply. Satoru holds his face between his hands as Suguru sobs, as the dam inside him breaks entirely. He holds him through it, whispers sweet nothings into the small space between them as Suguru hiccups and gasps. Satoru runs his fingers through his hair, twirls the pretty locks between his fingers as he calms Suguru down.

It’s a while before Suguru is calm, at least not sobbing as much. The sun is setting outside the window and Satoru has moved them to lay down on the bed, laying face to face, limbs tangled with one another, except for the hand that he continues to trace patterns onto Suguru’s skin with. 

“We’ll figure it out,” he says after a while, after their breathing regulates and their adrenaline dies down. Satoru watches the way Suguru fights back the sleep that tugs at his eyes, knowing he’s probably doing the same. “We’ll figure it out together, I promise.” He kisses the tip of his nose, loving the way it scrunches and the way his eyes flutter. Suguru doesn't say anything, only nods, tired eyes looking into Satoru’s own. He smiles at him, holding their gaze until Suguru closes his eyes. Satoru watches him for a few minutes, drinks in the calm on his face, the lack of strain on his beautiful features. He looks peaceful, Satoru wants to do whatever possible to make sure he looks like that everyday. 

“I wann’ go to the ‘mmquarian,” Suguru mumbles, words slurred from the sleep that pulls at him, he moves just enough to pull Satoru closer, to lay his head against his chest, right above his heart. He sniffles a few times before settling again and Satoru smiles, bringing his fingers to scratch as Suguru’s scalp.

“What was that sweetheart?” he asks, smiling at the way Suguru rubs his face against his chest. Satoru wants to make a joke about him using him as a snot rag but holds it in, chuckling about it privately. 

“Aquarium,” Suguru answers a little louder. “I want to go back to the aquarium with you. Can we?” 

Satoru laughs as the words register, as relief races through him and new tears fall gently from his eyes. He can't help the soft giggles as they spill, he feels high, the same way he feels after using too much reversed curse energy to heal himself. New and buzzed, hearing Suguru make plans with him. A small thing that feels huge, the first step to making things okay, something to look forward to. 

“Yes, yes we can go. We’ll rest today and tomorrow, talk to Shoko,” Suguru hums at her name and nods his head slightly. 

“I miss her,” Suguru interrupts quietly and Satoru makes a noise of understanding. 

“She misses you too. We’ll see her, smoke her out of house and home and then we can go to the aquarium,” Satoru plans out loud as Suguru laughs softly at his words. “Sounds good?”

“Yeah,” Suguru replies, voice soft and quickly fading into sleep, Satoru is almost sure he’d passed out and was quickly following suit when Suguru speaks again. 

“Satoru,” he says, barely above a whisper. 

“Suguru,” he replies back, just to feel the sweetness of his name in his mouth. 

The boy on his chest seems to contemplate his next words, Satoru waits patiently, they have all the time in the world after all now. Two weeks and the rest of their lives together. 

“It feels obvious to say but, you know I wouldn't want to be without you either right?” Suguru asks finally, almost nervously. Satoru thinks he might become the first person in history to explode from the rushing affection that floods his body. 

“Even if it is obvious-” Satoru’s voice is thick with emotion, eyes closed as he smiles widely at the ceiling, feeling freer than he had in months. “Even if it is, say it anyway. I'll say it too.” Suguru gives a great deep breath as the words settle around them. 

I love you , Suguru breathes out and he wants him to whisper those words into the very seam of his being, to be the only air he breathes into his lungs, to be consumed wholly and entirely by him until there is no way to ever tear them apart. I love you, Suguru says and Satoru knows he will never want for nothing again in his life as long as he’s with him.  I love you, his one and only love says and Satoru says it back. 

On the edges of a fading summer, as the August chill trickles, Satoru decides they’ll be alright. As long as they’re together, to whisper each other's names like it’s the air that keeps them alive, that hums in their chests and buzzes beneath their skin 

They’d be alright. 

Epilogue

December 21, 2009 11:37PM 

“You're spoiling him, you know,” Suguru’s voice is amused from where he stands leaning against their bedroom door, staring down at where Satoru sits on the floor surrounded by yards of wrapping paper and many, many gifts. 

The apartment is quiet save for the soft occasional sounds of movement as Satoru places an obnoxiously big white bow on a finished gift. The kids snooze away in their own beds as their guardians settle in to wrap birthday presents for the youngest in their stitched up amalgamation of a family unit. 

Megumi was turning seven years old in twenty three minutes and they were wrapping his gifts because of their joint last minute mission. One finished in absolute record timing because they will be damned if they miss any of the kids' birthdays. 

Shoko had been watching them while the two were gone. Keeping them updated with a steady stream of texts and pictures. 

Shoko : the girls painted their nails for gumi’s party 

Attached was a picture of four sets of hands, each with different colored polish. Shoko had a pale pink shade, Tsumiki a dark forest green, while Nanako and Mimiko had matching bright glittery hot pink. 

Satoru : SOOOO CUTE 

Satoru : Megumi didn’t want his painted? Suguru has a blue shade he might like !!!

Shoko : he is much more interested with his new bunnies. he’s been lying beneath a pile of them for like 30 minutes now lol 

Suguru : is he breathing lol

Suguru : don’t LEAVE ME ON READ HELLO???

Shoko: ofc he’s breathing what kind of babysitter do you take me for

Satoru: remember that time you almost lost Tsumiki at the mall?

Shoko: remember when YOU did too?? 

Satoru : touché. 

They had gotten back just in time to eat together and put the overly excited children to bed. Satoru thinks of the way Megumi’s eyes minutely widened in relief at the sight of them and feels his heart clench in his chest. 

 Satoru doesn’t bother to look up at his boyfriend, too busy fighting a losing battle against the most annoying roll of tape in the world. 

“Please, like you're any better,” Satoru scoffs, huffing as the invisible seam of the tape continues to evade him. “Six eyes and for what?” he grumbles under his breath, as he admits defeat and throws the tape up to Suguru without looking, who catches it easily with a laugh. Satoru moves on to cutting another large piece of wrapping paper, large enough to cover the box they had filled to the brim with books. The topics vary, from animals to ancient history to different mythology’s. All filled with mountains worth of information and just as many accompanying pictures.

Satoru is excited about the picture aspect of the books because of the way Megumi likes to open them and point at something he found interesting, shoving the book in your face until you say something along the lines off “ Oh that’s super cool Gumi, I didn't know that until now! ” The young boy always walks away with one of his small, though increasingly less rare, satisfied smiles. It’s one of Satoru’s favorite things about the little boy. 

Suguru hums as he steps around the growing mess on their bedroom floor, moving a few of Megumi’s already wrapped presents to one side to plant himself next to Satoru. He smiles privately at the way he immediately leans closer, gravitating to his touch and side. Suguru holds out a piece of tape, Satoru snatches it from his hands quickly and just as quickly plants a wet loud kiss to Suguru’s cheek in thanks. 

“Gross,” he says, even as he smiles widely, even as he makes no moves to wipe at his cheek. Satoru makes a dramatic noise, as if horribly disrespected, but doesnt go on his usual tantrum like a tirade about his bruised feelings, instead just focuses back on his wrapping.

The wrapping paper around them is cute, plastered with black and white dogs that look similar to Megumi’s own demon dogs. Suguru smiles, already seeing the adorable and careful way Megumi will most likely open his presents, not wanting to tear the paper to shreds. 

“You shouldn’t even be talking, half of these are literally from you!” Satoru points out and Suguru laughs and shrugs lightly. 

“You're right, you’re right,” he concedes, moving to place a chaste kiss at Satoru’s temple. “ We’re spoiling him.” 

“Mmm,” Satoru hums, seemingly lost in thought suddenly, Suguru watches his brow furrow slightly as he folds the edges of the paper along the box in a neat and pretty line. Suguru almost rolls his eyes, he knows there really isn't anything Satoru is bad at, or could ever be bad at but his expert gift wrapping skills had to just be for showing off right? 

Satoru moves on to the next present once he finishes, a new winter coat. Specifically bought for two reasons, one because Megumi needed a new coat, two because it was a part of a matching set. 

Satoru is very, very excited to drop Megumi off at school in their matching deep navy coats. He keeps his thoughts on Megumi as he continues to wrap the rest of his gifts, accumulated over a two month period of secret shopping trips with the girls. 

“What are you thinking about?” Suguru asks, ever perceptive of the ins and outs of Satoru’s brain.

“Megumi,” Satoru replies easily, smoothing his hands down the front of the child-sized coat. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get over how tiny children are, a realization that came during one of his first shopping outings with Megumi and Tsumiki. Of course he knew children are small but he’s never been faced with just how small. Not until he was holding a long sleeve shirt barely the width of both of his up to Megumi, who would  fit into it perfectly. 

It had caught him off guard, especially since he can’t remember ever being that small. Though he’s sure there are child size Gojo clan traditional kimonos that disprove that. 

Still he can't wrap his head around it because, if he had been that small once, how could the adults around him treat him the way they did? 

Sure yes, of course, he is the Satoru Gojo, the greatest sorcerer, exemplary and special since birth. He was brought up as any person with such insane importance and power should be. Right? 

But Megumi is also special, by those exact same terms. Born with powerful inherited techniques just as Satoru had been. His only historical counterpart, his equal in a way. 

Yet, Satoru can’t ever imagine treating Megumi the same way he had been. Can’t even entertain the notion of sending Megumi away to his room after hours of grueling training without so much as a gentle hand or kind word. Can’t bear the thought of turning him away after a bad dream, with the reasoning that ‘he’s supposed to be better than that.’ Can’t stomach the idea of that little boy holding himself in the dark, pretending his arms were someone else’s. Someone who cared enough to shush him to sleep, to kiss his forehead and ruffle his hair. 

“Anything specific?” Suguru presses slightly.

Satoru shrugs non committedly as he folds the coat into its box. He hopes Megumi will like it, along with the rest of their gifts and birthday plans. Seven is a big deal! Even though, aloof little Megumi seems to think otherwise. 

“I’m just turning seven,” he had grumbled one school morning, as they walked to school. With Megumi sleepily holding Satoru and Suguru’s hands between them and Tsumiki holding Suguru’s free hand. 

Suguru had asked him what he would like for his birthday, Megumi had only shrugged in answer. 

“One year older Meguminnnn that’s important! We are celebrating!” Satoru had said cheerily, leaving no room for argument in his deceitfully joyous voice. Suguru had laughed softly as Megumi turned his head towards him for help, only to be betrayed as Suguru agreed with him.

“He’s right Gumi, it's important, we’re gonna celebrate it,” Suguru said, tone placating and sweet. “You might as well choose something you’d like to do, you don’t want Satoru to go crazy and throw you an entire parade right?” Satoru holds back his laugh seeing the way Megumi nearly blanches at the thought. “Yeah that’s what I thought too.”

“But you deserve an entire parade, Megumi!! We should make it a national holiday. All of our birthdays should be!” Satoru exaggerates and laughs when Megumi rolls his eyes, the action so similar to how Suguru rolls his eyes at Satoru’s antics. It makes his heart skip when he notices the similarities.  

He adorns the wrapped gift with another obnoxiously big bow, and adds it to the finished pile. It’s not a small pile by any means but it’s not huge . Satoru thinks it’s just right for a seven year old birthday. Not that he would know if that was right or not. Or Suguru for that matter. They’re admittedly winging this whole raising children thing but he thinks they’re doing pretty alright, thank you very much. 

“I’m thinking about his name, I guess,” Satoru answers after a beat. Suguru makes a questioning noise at words, laying his head on Satoru’s shoulder. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Blessing,” Satoru explains, though they’re both aware of the meaning in Megumi’s name. “It’s a good name, fitting.” He pauses as he finds the right words for the emotions swirling he can’t find a name for. “It’s sweet. So sweet.” 

“Right,” Suguru says, waiting patiently for Satoru to finish his point. 

Satoru takes a breath, steadies himself before speaking again. “Do you think, Toji named him?” Suguru doesn’t tense at the name anymore, neither of them do but the man is far from their favorite topic. “I mean he obviously must've not had any objections to the name, you know? He must’ve thought it fit too.” 

Suguru hums and straightens up, head leaving his shoulder but a large hand snakes its way around Satoru’s waists. “Why are you thinking about that?” he asks softly and Satoru sighs. 

“I don’t know I just,” he breathes. “It fits. I guess is what I’m saying. It’s a fitting name because he is , a blessing. To me, to us and once even to his father,” he stresses. 

“Just like I was to mine, like I am .” he adds, just because he hadn’t spoken to his own parents in years it doesn’t mean they don’t still tote him like the undeniable blessing he is, to the world, to their name and bloodline. 

“Satoru-,” Suguru says, 

“Blessed and honored I know what I am, since I was born. He could be just as powerful as me, he could be better,” He says voice tinting with pride at the thought of it. His tiny Megumi, growing stronger than him. “But I don't want him to grow up like me,” he finished. “My mother once called me spoiled, you know, just for having the eyes I have,” he chuckles dryly, Suguru frowns next to him at the words. 

“Megumi isn’t spoiled, at least not like I was. That's okay right?” He breathes out, feeling out of his depths not for the first time since he had taken guardianship over the Fushiguro siblings. He’s sure it won’t be that last time, if all the parenting books he’s read in the last year alone have anything to say about it. “I’m not like, doing him an injustice? He isn’t going to turn out to be some snot nosed little snob expecting the world to be handed to him in a platter right?” his words trail off into a mumble. Suguru sighs loudly next to him before moving abruptly, ending up right in front of Satoru cradling his face between his hands. 

“I know I’ve said it before but I never want to meet your parents,” Suguru says seriously surprising a sharp laugh from him. Suguru smiles at the sound before continuing. “Considering how you were brought up it’s a miracle you aren’t that snot nosed asshole-“

“I mean I’m definitely an asshole, you called me that earlier toda-“ his words are cut off by a palm placed over his mouth. Satoru wasted no time in opening his mouth and laves his tongue against Suguru’s skin, laughing loudly when Suguru removes his hand, face furrowed in disgust. 

“Anyways, asshole ,” Satoru laughs at how endearing Suguru makes the insult sound. “Megumi is blessed in so many ways, just like you were, and in some ways you weren’t,” Suguru’s thumb sweeps over his cheek, Satoru nuzzles against the caress as he continues to speak. “We couldn’t possibly be doing him an injustice by buying him gifts on his birthday .”  Suguru stresses the word. “He's a child, he deserves to be spoiled rotten just for existing really. They all do,” Suguru says, moving to press a sweet chaste kiss against his lips, one that leaves Satoru chasing for more. “And so did you, you know.” 

Satoru feels his eyes well with tears at the words but can’t help the grin that also splits his face. He leans forward to kiss Suguru again who meets him halfway happily. 

“Eh, I think you spoil me enough to make up for it,” Satoru says against his lips and tastes the sweet way Suguru laughs at the words. His previous worries melt away for the night, replaced by the same content, syrupy thick adoration that coats every moment spent in Suguru’s company. He knows the worries won’t disappear, new ones will show as the kids grow older, each one unique to them. But what he’s sure of is Suguru’s presence at his side, his patience and endless well of love, that continues to amaze Satoru at every turn. 

Sometimes he thinks there isn’t enough space in the entire world for how much love Suguru holds in his body. Satoru also thinks it perfect that he is a glass with no bottom, more than happy to be one of the people to hold such a great portion of his never ending affection. 

When they split apart it's five minutes to midnight. They rush as quietly as possible to the kitchen, where Suguru had hidden Megumi’s birthday cake on the top shelf of their pantry. They exchange kisses as they carefully stick seven candles onto the cake, giggling quietly as they walk down the hallway towards the sleeping boys room. 

Satoru Gojo wouldn’t say he was a spoiled kid. But there, in the dark of their shared home, soft candlelight striking against Suguru’s smiling features, heart close to bursting from the excitement of the clock striking twelve, he would admit to spoiling his kid. 

December 22, 2009. 12:00 AM Megumi turns seven years old and despite the small boy's words, it’s important, world changing levels of importance. Satoru could hardly be blamed if he treats it forever as such. 

end.