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he lays blank-faced on his mattress, hands folded over each other as they rest on his stomach; one of which appears cold and metallic as opposed to his left, complete with his more natural human elements: dark, smooth skin that lightens on the underside along his palm, recently trimmed and filed fingernails that bear their natural lack of color, tapping rhythmically against his artificial hand.
suguru was usually a mess of emotions, held together by his driving urge to accomplish whatever goal he'd set out for, but in this particular moment he's quietly resting in his bed, joined only by his lover. the latter has his arm draped lazily across suguru's chest, skin airily brushing his scarred flesh.
satoru's body isn't much less lacerated than suguru's, though he isn't missing a limb the way suguru is. instead, his torso holds a long gash, stretching from the midpoint of his neck to the left lower quadrant of his abdomen. two mismatched scars adorn his pectorals, three nearly identical wounds mark his right thigh, and one hides beneath the hair that falls idly across his forehead. those, and, of course, the one resting just below the navel.
while satoru's scars are scattered across his entire frame, suguru's stay huddled on the right half of his body and face, save for the cross along his chest. he steals a glimpse at satoru, whose breathing is nearly in sync with suguru's: rise, fall, pause, repeat. it's soothing, in a way. daylight filters through the blinds cascading down the windows, highlighting the softness of satoru's features.
suguru sighs to himself, turning his eyes back to the ceiling. satoru's fingers idly brush suguru's wounded shoulder as he shifts in his sleep. it's been around a year, maybe a little less, since suguru was involved in a backfire that should have cost him his life, had satoru not shown up for him in the alley he was slumped over and bleeding in. what a time to be thinking of that, he reflects, as he remembers satoru lay asleep next to him.
the tapping along suguru's hand grows impatient, and satoru responds almost consciously by moving his own from suguru's shoulder to clasp his wrist. suguru receives this as a signal to stop. apparently, satoru's been awake the entire time, slurring out "what's on your mind now?" as he takes notice of suguru's rather restless demeanor.
stifling another sigh, suguru averts meeting his eyes. it'd be a nuisance rambling about his troubles at such an early hour, even more so considering satoru's tendency to worry himself sick in light of suguru's incident. he didn't need satoru putting blame on himself then, and he certainly doesn't need it now.
"really, suguru, what's up with you? you've been distant lately," satoru comments, and suguru notices him staring at— no, past him and at the wall to his right. his eyes are grey this morning, drowning out the ultramarine that usually pools in his irises. suguru thought it oddly comforting that, though his right eye is now permanently clouded with blindness, satoru's find their way to match.
no answer comes from suguru as he tries to put together his words. the air feels stiff and uncomfortable now with his inactivity, and satoru huffs in a mild state of frustration. suguru can't find it in himself to blame him, really. he does sort of feel bad about not answering him, but he's not able to find the words to explain his ordeal.
after he was discharged from the infirmary, suguru had stayed up for nights on end, coping — or at least trying to cope — with his new, rather gruesome appearance. "i still love you, you know," satoru had reassured him, and though he believed every word of it, it wasn't enough for him. "i know," he'd replied, grimacing at his reflection staring back at him in the mirror, "but i don't feel like myself, satoru."
he'd wished with every fiber of his being that shoko could have healed his injuries fully, but then, studying every disfigurement that danced along his jaw and cheek, he felt defeated. "it could have been worse," satoru had breathed, "i think a few scars and a prosthetic arm are a whole lot better than dealing with your death."
he'd known satoru was right. he'd understood that since he'd awoken in the hospital, since satoru had held the hand that was still attached, since the first step he'd taken out of the stuffy old room. "the kids still love you the same," satoru had added. "i mean, yumemi was a little scared, but can you really blame her? she's eight. it's difficult to comprehend something this serious that young. not to mention, hotaru is even less so."
"i know, satoru, i know."
he does know.
yumemi winces when she lays eyes on suguru now. hotaru is no better; it's upsetting, sure, but like satoru had said, he can't find it in his heart to blame either of them. he puts this at the forefront of his mind as he opens his mouth to speak.
"'toru?"
"yeah?"
satoru's head is facing away from suguru now.
"has your impression of me changed at all?"
no response.
"i still feel so disconnected," he starts up the tapping again, "having a bit of a difficult time adjusting, you know?"
"don't be ridiculous."
"hm?"
satoru turns back over, propping up his head on his hand. his eyes are still dulled, but there's an emotion welling up deep inside of him that even suguru can sense from a simple look. "you're not ugly, suguru," he whispers, "i've never thought that, not once."
suguru doesn't reply. at least, not for a while. instead, he simply lays there, like he had minutes ago, staring at nothing in particular as he thinks; he fidgets with his fingers, their inhuman sensation messing with his sense of self. "i love you. really," satoru says, tenderly, resting his free hand on suguru's chest. "that's not gonna change, no matter what you look like."
suguru gives a weak, somewhat reassured smile. "that's cheesey," satoru adds, chuckling, "but i mean it. it wouldn't be fair to blame you for something that was never your fault." he sighs, twisting a finger around one of suguru's curls. "you're so beautiful, suguru, i wish you'd stop beating yourself up for my sake."
he's silent, like usual. suguru's never been one for deep conversations. "i didn't necessarily say i thought i wasn't," he mutters, "i just kinda.. feel weird about it. the arm, i mean. it doesn't feel right." suguru taps the back of his metallic hand; satoru averts eye contact. he sighs.
"maybe i'm a little biased," satoru chuckles, "but i really don't think you're any different now. though you are still grieving; i'd never blame you for that." he sort of repositions himself so his head is lying on the pillow instead of his elbow holding it in place, as suguru replies, "it's been nearly a year now, though, and i feel like i should be used to it by now."
"you can grieve it. it's part of you, suguru."
"the doctors didn't treat it that way."
"and you're not them."
he's right. in every way, he's right. suguru doesn't know how to reply now.
"that scar at the corner of your eye," satoru comments, gesturing to suguru's clouded iris, "it looks kinda like a star, if you squint. i think that's neat." he turns so his body is facing upright in the bed, inspecting his distorted reflection in suguru's earring. "it's not ideal, but you can find positives."
he can, and he knows he can. racking his brain, he settles on his one driving motivator: the fact that despite suguru's sleep deprivation, despite his self neglect and fatigue, despite his newly disfigured face and torso and his missing arm, satoru still loves him. there's always been a level of love and respect the two had for each other, yet satoru never upheld any conditions.
"besides," satoru yawns, "doctors are supposed to be neutral. probably. you have more sentimental attachment to your body than they do, is what i mean."
"that's fair."
the room is quiet for a little while longer as satoru cuddles into suguru's body, savoring the feeling of his naked chest against his cheek. suguru lets his artificial arm lie neglected next to him, the other cradling satoru's back.
"i'm still not fully sure about my own body, you know," satoru whispers, his hand resting just in the middle of suguru's brown chest, fingers splayed out on the center of the scar embedded into his skin. "i've considered bottom surgery."
"have you lost a limb, though?"
"not permanently."
the mood is too damp for satoru's liking. he sighs, focusing his eyes on suguru's face. "wish i could tell you there's no use dwelling on it, but you can grieve. permission isn't needed for something like that. just... let me be there with you, okay?"
suguru gives a soft half-smile that barely reaches his eyes, nodding his head in agreement. satoru has always been so focused on doing everything together like they were joined at the hip, from year one of high school to the first backfire of suguru's cursed technique to the incident in shibuya. and now that they had officially tied the knot, that insistence was amplified tenfold.
as long as he still found beauty in suguru, as long as he still loved him just the same as that day in april, that's all that really mattered to the latter man.
"maybe you should try getting some sleep," satoru advises, patting suguru's chest, "haven't seen you get a good nap in seven years. also, you know you're not supposed to wear that in bed, right?" he punctuates that sentence with a prod at the metallic black plastic of suguru's prosthetic arm. he is correct, but suguru doesn't really care that much. he makes that clear with a grunt, getting a responsive chuckle out of satoru.
"seriously, though. get some sleep, love. i probably have to get yume up for normal people school," he murmurs, readjusting his body just a bit. he leans over to kiss suguru's untouched cheek, relishing in the way he instinctively leans into it.
"i'll try," suguru replies, "can't guarantee i will, though. you might have to serenade me to sleep."
"shut up, that was once and we were seventeen, it was stupid," satoru groans, but suguru can practically hear the grin in his voice.
"yeah, yeah. i love you, you know. sorry for being such a bummer sometimes."
satoru tucks a wild strand of suguru's hair behind his ear. "not a problem. you're less of a bummer than you were in high school, though. i think i prefer you being open about your thoughts, honestly." satoru cuddles his head into the crook of suguru's neck. "i love you too, by the way."
suguru's eyes crinkle with his smile this time as the both of them relax into their shared bed. the overhead fan hums quietly in the background.
"hey, take that off before you conk out," satoru reminds him, waving at the prosthetic, "plastic doesn't make a good pillow."
"yeah? are you willing to take its place?"
"absolutely not. i'm getting yume ready for school."
suguru is met with a relatively painless flick to his forehead, eliciting a chuckle out of him. "m'kay. i love you," he calls out after satoru, who's already out the door of their bedroom by the time the last syllable rolls off his tongue. maybe he does say that too much. it's whatever, anyways.
satoru loves him just as much.