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Suguru wasn’t in love with her when he accepted her confession. He’d thought it was cruel of him for a second, but then, all humans had their superficial enjoyments. No doubt one reason why she’d confessed was his looks, as they hadn’t spent enough time to call one another friend during middle school. Different classes, different clubs, a couple of joint exercises and some teamwork for the festivals.
He wasn’t in love, but he was a teenage boy and she a girl he could admire. Diligent and patient with classmates, gentle with underclassmen, respectful with elders. Top five in the school at year-end. Pretty too. As much as any other girl, but also in that geek-with-nervous-habits way. Sue him, he wanted to give it a try.
In fact, it was in their second month of dating that Suguru fell. Right as he was weighing his options—busy with starting high school and with sorcery, fatigued by the fact that he had to hide it all from her, aware of her slipping confidence in their bond which was produced by his dutiful inventions that did the work of shielding her from what she couldn’t understand—lightning struck.
They were scanning the map at the front of a nature park that was the stage for their date. Suguru’s eye flew past the greetings in several languages and the chibi figures asking visitors not to litter, the colorful park mascot. He didn’t notice her fixating on a post-it note taped to the corner of the map. Some hopeful rebel’s scratchy handwriting, a single question—Bare your soul. How do you really feel right now, deep inside?
“With Suguru-kun . . .” she mumbled, blinking at the inky line of text. “I guess you’d call that . . . peace of mind.”
Startled out of his thoughts, Suguru looked at her.
She turned red and scratched her cheek, chuckling nervously. “Thinking back, I must’ve forgotten to say when I, um . . . confessed to you, but . . .” She smiled, avoiding his eyes, and clasped her hands together, swaying from side to side with embarrassment. “That’s what I always thought . . . You are steadfast and dependable, I thought—wow, even with something as silly as a joint presentation, having Suguru-kun around makes me feel so at ease.”
In retrospect, it might’ve been the delusion of teenage hormones and desperations to be needed by someone—Suguru made great efforts to paint it like that in the gallery of his memories—but, when she said that, his world clicked into place. Up until that moment, he hadn’t been sure about her, but then it all made sense. Peace of mind. What a thing to say. To touch his very soul with so few words.
“Sorry, I’m babbling,” she mumbled, shaking her head, jerky hands coming up to fuss with the ends of her hair as they did whenever she was nervous. “I shouldn’t’ve—”
Her fingers were cold when Suguru took them into his hand, capturing them before she got a chance to get at her pretty hairdo. “Good.” He kissed her knuckles gently, lips curling at the way she started chewing on the lining of her cheek with her fingers accounted for, showing off that little dimple. “That’s good.”
It made perfect sense. This darling girl who looked at him as if he’d hung the stars when he draped his jacket over her shoulders as he walked her home—his girlfriend, yes, but also a reminder. Of what Suguru was fighting, as a sorcerer and a man. Her smile, that raucous laughter that gave her the hiccups, the scent of lilies wafting off her soft sweaters when she hugged him—they were, in some cliché yet profoundly true sense, the batteries that kept him going. They were the reason, she was the reason, sorcerers existed.
To protect her. To give her peace of mind.
Time marched on and Suguru liked her more each day. She became the symbol of his purpose. When the cursed spirits he swallowed made him ill, he wiped the sweat off his forehead and plastered on a smile to go meet her and be cleansed by a kiss. When he was bruised and scratched all over, she fussed over him with a charming pout and a light crease on her forehead. When he wondered why it was him trying to come to terms with the fact that most of his friends would be dead by the end of high school while she could keep hers for life, he leaned into her and let it all melt in her hands.
There was a logical part of him that realized early on how dangerous it was to consider her a reward or a charge or put any amount of responsibility for his mental state on her, but she made it so easy, so sweet, to rely on her. Suguru’s proper side—what she called his gentlemanly habits, but he seldom thought outside the norm for a boyfriend—carrying her backpack, opening doors for her, helping her off the bus or train by taking her hand—gave her confidence that, despite the innate curiosities and perversions of teenagers, Suguru was happy to go at the pace she set. So, by the end of their first year, she didn’t hesitate to wrap him in her arms as a greeting, kiss his cheek as a goodbye, or be in his personal space when they were alone.
And Suguru craved it.
She had no cursed energy to speak of, but he felt like she could take all of his—make him lighter, unburdened—when she laid his head in her lap and ran her fingers through his hair, recounting the events of her week. Being a sorcerer made him numb sometimes, but he came alive in her arms. Loved, needed, wanted. The focus of all her attention. Her secret guardian. The one who was willing to suffer so she wouldn’t. It made sense. That was exactly as it should be—the relationship between sorcerers and non-sorcerers.
And if he drowned in curses, well . . . she could pull him up for air.
2006 and 2007—the cursed years.
Suguru had tact and emotional intelligence, but she saw right through them. Saw him wavering. Flickering. In and out, all the time. His stomach churned constantly. Phantom aftertaste making him wretch and heave, so often that kissing her couldn’t save him. Not for lack of trying. Suguru had kissed her like he wanted to consume her essence, as if he could engrave her into his tongue and burn her—the sweetness of her—into his taste buds and never again throw up a meager lunch, alone in a bathroom stall.
He tried to find a balance with his body, didn’t have the energy to commend the purposefully-bland lunchboxes she made for him when they spent time together. Easy on your stomach, she would say. You need to eat, Suguru. A little bit. Please.
How nice of her. If only everyone else were as nice. If only they could stop creating cursed spirits. Maybe stand on their own damn feet for once.
“Suguru?”
He blinked, returning to his body from an abyss of scary thoughts. Her legs were tangled with his and she peered up at him, her naked torso warm against his equally naked side.
“You sure you’re not sick?” she mumbled cautiously and scooted up to lay on his chest.
Suguru wrapped an arm around her. “Tired.”
“Okay.” She sighed softly. “Isn’t there anything I can do? Anything you want to eat or talk about? We can sleep in, my parents are taking the evening train.”
He pulled away from her in fear. Not of her, but of what he could do to her.
Her, the representation of what tortured him. She was only human. A weak little thing. He could break her neck without breaking a sweat. If he killed her—if he killed all of them, would it be easier to breathe?
“Sorry, I don’t feel too well. I ought to see a doctor,” he said, rolling out of bed to get dressed.
When did things change? When did the icon of his purpose become the object of his resentment? She wasn’t to blame for being weak and coddled, living well while sorcerers spilled blood and lost lives for her. It wasn’t her choice to be blissfully ignorant. Yet, unlike him, at least she had the option.
Fucking normies.
Perhaps his demeanor was sufficiently cold to prevent her making an offer to accompany him. He was glad for it. Suguru left without kissing her goodbye, scratching at his chest as if her skin had stained him. Permanently.
His mind became oddly still after Amanai Riko. Like an open plane of a barren wasteland, haunted by howling winds and nothing else. Vacuous. He recovered to some degree. Enough to be the good boyfriend—dates and birthdays and outings with her friends. She kept a close eye on him, Suguru noticed. On edge for reasons she couldn’t comprehend but could sense, watching for a change in his mood, doing her best to accommodate, to mold into what he needed.
The rational man in him knew it was unhealthy and unfair to let one’s ugly self ooze so much that one’s partner could feel it and opt to walk on eggshells because of it. It was unfair. But so was the fact that her hands were clean, that she was clean. Rinsed of it all, water off a duck’s back. Unaware and loving her comfortable life. So maybe, at times, Suguru felt that he deserved to be indulged. To have her anxious and looking for ways to please him. Maybe he was owed that much, running the cursed marathon that was his purpose and profession, for all their sake.
Thinking back, he wanted to see himself that way. A righteous sorcerer enjoying the care and attention that was his due. For the sake of preserving his memories as such, he forgot about what little goodness had remained within him in those days. About her hard times and his devoted care-taking, her pains and disappointments and his long nights, rocking side to side until she fell asleep in his hold. About the hot pads and chocolates and movie nights which ended in sleepy cuddles and sweet nothings. He had no right to those memories. The good ones.
Not after what he’d done.
She was honest to a fault. Suguru liked that about her—she couldn’t tell a lie to save her life. Truth spilled out in between chuckles and self-conscious self-soothing habits. A real sweetheart, his mother said often. What a good girl. Observant, unfortunately. Suguru had to work hard to hide his inner turmoils from her. Patient too. Willing to come to him every day, offer help, comfort, space. A lunch box one day, a letter the next, a long hug, a whisper of reassurances—all the medicine in her arsenal she offered tirelessly, but Suguru was too sick.
A disturbing tug of war in him—wishing her happiness and death, depending on the day. The gentleman Suguru, wondering if the world of sorcery would feel a soul lighter if she died.
“You’ve been pensive lately,” she said gently, pouring out their tea as they sat in her living room.
Suguru smiled automatically. “You think so?”
She watched him for a moment, then set the teapot aside, and hugged her knees, placing her chin in the dip between them. “Crossroads?” was all she said. And then she waited.
Suguru’s smile faded, fatigue washing over him, so strong he couldn’t hide it if he tried. “Something like that,” he responded quietly.
She nodded. “That’s okay.” Her soft knuckles grazed his chin. “You don’t always have to think about everyone, you know?” A kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Some choices can be for you only. Or for a small group. You’ll never be wrong if you go with your heart, Suguru.”
A dry chuckle escaped him. “The reasonable thing is to act in service of the majority.”
“Is it so reasonable if it’s breaking you?”
He swallowed, anger and despair mixing inside him, bubbling up to clog his throat. Suguru forced himself to speak, though it came out rougher than he’d meant.
“And what if you’re not in the small group?”
She blinked, a flicker of pain in her eyes, but then smiled. A small, pitying smile. “I’d be sad, but . . . I’d rather you be happy without me, than miserable by my side.”
Unlike his words which had carried a note of accusation, hers were pure, gentle truth. That damn girl, why the hell would she say that? Every time she spoke, he hated her more for being too good to deserve his hatred. Hours of torturous ponderings perched at the back of his throat, threatening to spill out, to tell her exactly what he’d been going through—all the things she was spared by default. To make her cry, make her guilty, make her hate herself.
If only he could strangle her and be free.
Suguru shifted in his seat, leaned over to hold her cheeks in his hands, and kissed her instead. If only he loved her less. If only that was possible.
She always stole a taste of honey before putting a teaspoon in her tea and it spread on Suguru’s tongue as he kissed her, lowering her gently back until she lay under him on the cold hardwood floor, sitting pillows abandoned. Maybe he was crying. He wasn’t sure and she didn’t mention anything, wrapping her arms around his back as if she could take and carry any part of his burden.
His head was fuzzy, memories of that day never cleared. How they got from the living room to her bed, what they talked about—if they talked at all—Suguru couldn’t remember. What he knew was how it ended—the exact moment he realized he would kill her soon.
“I love you, Suguru,” she said, peering up at him as she laced their fingers, pink and soft and sweet all over.
His lips twitched but he managed a smile and, in his sweetest voice, said, “I love you too.”
“I want you to be happy no matter what.” Pressing a fleeting kiss to his stiff lips—holding the smile too long, trembling—she closed her eyes. “No matter what.” A whisper washing over his collarbones, rushing up his spine, making him light-headed.
“No matter what.”
Their last date was tailored to her. Suguru took her to the sea—she loved to swim and read on the beach—and wrestled playfully with her in the shallows, making her laugh until her stomach ached. They ate ice cream sandwiches—those were her favorite sweet treat—and took a long, aimless walk, holding hands, talking. Together at dusk. Together in the parking lot behind her building, lighting sparklers like little kids. Together, back to her place, where she felt safest. Where she’d made space for him. For their future.
“My cheeks hurt,” she giggled, poking at her face lightly. “Don’t make me smile anymore.”
“Once more,” Suguru said, watching her.
He wanted to remember her like that—happy, innocent, smiling. Always so sweet, his loving girlfriend.
“I love you,” she said and got on the tips of her toes to kiss him.
“I love you too.” Suguru embraced her for the last time, burying his face into her hair, filling his airways with the scent of her.
That sweet, sweet girl. The love of his life, probably. So defenseless. She couldn’t tell she was surrounded by curses, that her apartment was filled with them. She had no idea what was about to happen. Who he was about to become, the Suguru she loved.
She pulled back, tears pooling in her eyes. Why? Did she know? How long had she known?
“Suguru,” she called, light bouncing off her unshed tears making her eyes sparkle. And she grinned. One wide, honest, loving grin. “No matter what.”
Suguru’s heart stopped. Maybe it never restarted. Maybe it stayed a heavy lump in his chest, never to beat again.
“No matter what,” he whispered as she slumped into his arms, dead.
At least it was quick, he thought to himself as he carried her corpse to the bedroom. At least it didn’t hurt, he thought, tucking her in. At least one of us is free.
Suguru kissed her forehead. He took the phone out of her purse in the entryway and dialed her mother. He left it on the floor, silent as the familiar voice repeatedly spoke her daughter’s name, rising in panic when there was no response.
Suguru closed the front door and left. Saliva tasted like syrup in his mouth. Too sweet. He could feel his teeth rot. His insides rot. Suguru chuckled.
Too sweet.
Always too sweet for him.
I discovered a song, played it on repeat for hours, and this fic happened. Idk. Might be ooc since I don't feel like I have the best grasp on Suguru's personality but oh well. Thank you for reading and commenting <3
If you'd like more JJK I've got boyfriend Nanami, husband Satoru, enemies-to-lovers Aoi Tōdō, boyfriend Megumi and bittersweet Satoru for you.