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Suguru is not stupid. He knows he’s depressed.
It’s been creeping up on him for years, a slow, inevitable tide that eventually swallowed everything whole. At first, it was subtle—the little things he used to love didn’t seem to matter as much anymore. The mornings where he’d lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, waiting for the energy to get up but never feeling it come. The missed calls, the unanswered texts, the plans he cancelled. He told himself it was temporary, that it was just a phase, that everyone gets tired.
But then, the heaviness became part of him, something he carried like a second skin. He’s been dealing with this for probably too long, definitely too long. The weight on his chest is familiar now, a constant companion, one he no longer even tries to shake off.
He goes through the motions—college, swimming team, pretending everything is fine—but the spark that once made life feel meaningful has dimmed to a faint flicker. Every stroke in the water feels mechanical, every lap a task to complete rather than something he used to love. It used to be different. He used to feel alive in the water, free even. But now, it’s just another routine he performs to keep people from asking questions.
His teammates don’t notice. Why would they? He smiles at the right moments, laughs when he should, and keeps his head down during practice. He tells himself that’s enough—that if he can make it through another day without breaking, then maybe, just maybe, he can figure out what comes next.
But the silence when he's alone is deafening. And he’s alone a lot more now, even when surrounded by people.
Then, a sparkler of light.
They bump into each other in the hallway first, a brief, jarring moment that pulls Suguru out of his haze. The world snaps into focus just long enough for him to register the sharp contrast—white hair, dark round glasses, a flash of an easy grin.
“Sorry,” says the stranger, his voice light, almost carefree.
Suguru blinks, startled. “It’s alright,” he mumbles, but the stranger is already gone, swaggering down the hall and out of the library, the faint scent of something sweet lingering in his wake.
The encounter feels too quick, too strange. Suguru turns his head, watching the stranger disappear into the crowd. There's something electric in the air, something unsettlingly alive in that fleeting moment. It stirs something in him, something unfamiliar, though he can't quite put a name to it.
For the first time in a while, the weight on his chest lightens, just a fraction.
The next time it happens, it's on the faculty stone steps.
They collide with such force that Suguru’s books scatter across the ground, tumbling down the stone steps. The stranger’s glasses fall from his face, clattering loudly against the stone. Suguru stumbles, barely catching his balance, and blinks up in surprise.
“Sorry!” the stranger apologizes, crouching down to retrieve his glasses, but Suguru barely registers the words. He’s frozen, caught in the intensity of the stranger’s eyes.
Blue. Baby blue. The kind of blue the sky is after a storm, clear and bright, full of promise. The kind of blue the Caribbean Sea turns when the sun hits just right, deep and endless.
Suguru stares, entranced, feeling that same strange flicker inside him—the spark that’s been missing for so long. He blinks, trying to pull himself together as the stranger quickly stands, glasses now perched back on his nose.
“You okay?” the stranger asks, and his voice seems softer this time, with a touch of concern.
Suguru clears his throat, dragging his gaze away. “Yeah… yeah, I’m fine.”
But the truth is, something about those blue eyes has unsettled him, cracked the shell he’s been hiding behind. He watches as the stranger gives him a quick nod and then flashes that same easy grin before heading off again, disappearing up the steps.
Suguru’s heart races in his chest, and he stands there a moment longer, staring at the empty space where the stranger had been.
The third time doesn’t actually happen.
Suguru sees him coming this time—the flash of white hair, the glint of those familiar dark glasses—and before the stranger can collide with him again, Suguru steps quickly to the left, dodging the encounter entirely.
For a moment, he feels a small surge of victory, like he’s somehow regained control of the universe’s strange sense of humor. He watches as the man breezes past him, completely unaware of the near-miss. There’s a flicker of something like disappointment in Suguru’s chest, but he quickly shakes it off.
He tells himself it’s for the best. He doesn't need any more chance encounters with strangers that throw his world out of focus. But as he glances back, catching the faintest glimpse of that white hair disappearing into the crowd again, he can’t help but wonder if he made a mistake by stepping aside.
There’s a tension now, a pull he doesn’t understand, and for the first time in a long time, Suguru feels the weight on his chest shift into something else entirely. Curiosity. Maybe even a hint of longing.
The third time, Suguru doesn’t dodge.
He’s been having a horrible day—one of those days where nothing makes sense, but everything feels wrong. He doesn’t know why. He just woke up angry and sad and so fucking tired. He dragged himself through the morning, barely making it to class, his head buzzing with a dull ache that wouldn’t go away. Every small task felt monumental, every step heavier than the last.
So when he spots the white-haired stranger coming toward him again, it’s already too late to avoid him. And maybe, on any other day, Suguru would’ve shifted to the side, or at least braced himself. But today, with his mind swirling and the weight of everything pressing down, he just… doesn’t.
They collide, hard, sending a jolt through him as if the impact itself is trying to wake him up. His bag slips off his shoulder, his books once again scattered across the pavement. A sharp breath escapes him, half-frustrated, half-exhausted. He’s ready to snap, to apologize out of sheer reflex, to maybe yell, anything to let the bottled-up emotion out.
But when he looks up, there are those eyes again—blue, soft, and startlingly clear. For a second, the anger falters. The stranger’s glasses have slipped down his nose, his expression an odd mix of surprise and amusement as he reaches down to help Suguru pick up his books.
“Sorry,” the man says, his voice carrying an undertone of laughter, like he’s done this too many times now. “I swear I’m not doing this on purpose.”
Suguru opens his mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. The weight on his chest tightens, and he swallows hard, his anger dissolving into something else—something raw and uncomfortable.
The man straightens up, holding out one of Suguru’s books. “You sure you’re alright? You look… tired.” His tone shifts, genuine concern replacing the humor.
Suguru doesn’t know why, but the stranger’s question hits deeper than it should. He’s so tired of pretending everything is fine, so tired of carrying this invisible burden. And standing here, in front of this stranger with white hair and baby-blue eyes, Suguru feels dangerously close to unraveling.
“I’m fine,” he lies, his voice strained.
But he knows he’s not. And something tells him this stranger might already see right through him.
And of course, there is a fourth time.
Suguru sees him coming, just like before—white hair, dark glasses, that effortless swagger—but this time, something inside him snaps. He’s had enough. Enough of the awkward bumps, enough of the casual apologies, enough of everything. His mood, already dark and simmering, erupts as they collide once again.
The man barely has time to say “Sorry,” before Suguru’s frustration boils over.
“Are you fucking blind?” Suguru yells, his voice sharp and cutting through the air.
People in the hallway stop and turn, startled by the outburst. He can feel their eyes on him, but he doesn’t care. He’s too angry, too tired of this seemingly endless dance of collisions with this stranger who keeps disrupting his life in the most inconvenient ways.
The white-haired man takes a step back, eyes wide behind his glasses, clearly taken aback by the sudden fury. For a second, Suguru thinks he might yell back or walk away, but instead, the man raises his hands in surrender, a smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth.
“Not all the way there, but almost,” he says, his voice calm, but there’s a playful glint in his eyes, like he finds Suguru’s anger amusing rather than alarming.
Suguru glares at him, fists clenched, but his anger feels like it’s slipping through his fingers. It’s infuriating how unfazed this guy is, standing there like they’ve bumped into each other by design rather than some annoying coincidence. And the worst part? That flicker of curiosity, that same strange pull, is back. Tugging at him. Even as he stands there fuming, there’s something about this stranger he can’t shake off.
The man lets out a low chuckle, glancing around at the people watching. “Maybe we should stop meeting like this,” he adds, his smirk widening into a grin.
Suguru grits his teeth, trying to hold on to the anger, but it’s no use. Somehow, in the face of that grin and those blue eyes, all of his frustration feels small. He huffs, running a hand through his hair, and mutters, “Just... watch where you’re going next time.”
The man nods, still grinning.“I’m Satoru, by the way,” he says, with a nonchalance that almost makes Suguru want to roll his eyes.
“Suguru,” he mutters back, annoyed that he’s even giving his name in return. But there’s something about Satoru’s presence, so easygoing and light, that makes it hard to stay mad.
Satoru gives him one last look, smirk still plastered on his face, before sauntering off, leaving Suguru standing there—frustrated, confused, and oddly intrigued.
After this, Suguru is on high alert, scanning the campus for any trace of white hair and dark round glasses. He tells himself he wants to avoid Satoru, to dodge the awkwardness and the annoyance of another unexpected collision. But even as he walks, his eyes drift around, searching, hoping to catch a glimpse of that familiar figure.
And yet, despite his efforts, he can’t help but notice Satoru everywhere. The man seems to bump into people all over campus, a whirlwind of energy that draws attention wherever he goes. With every laugh, every lighthearted apology that floats through the air, Suguru feels something twist in his gut—a strange mixture of irritation and longing.
He watches as Satoru collides with a group of students, effortlessly charming them with his easy smile and playful demeanor. It’s infuriating how effortlessly he navigates through the crowd, a beacon of brightness that makes Suguru feel like he’s stuck in shadows.
And for a brief moment, he wishes it was him Satoru was walking into. Not out of anger or frustration, but out of a yearning that he doesn’t fully understand. The thought feels ridiculous, and he shakes his head to dispel it, forcing himself to focus on anything else—his classes, his friends, the looming deadlines that make his chest tighten.
But the image of Satoru’s grin lingers in the back of his mind, as does that spark of something deeper that flared to life when they collided. It’s maddening, and Suguru can’t shake the feeling that this isn’t just an annoyance; it’s something more. Something that challenges the walls he’s built around himself.
So he keeps his guard up, but every time he catches a glimpse of Satoru, a part of him aches to let those walls down, just for a moment.
It’s because Suguru is searching for Satoru everywhere he goes that he witnesses it happen.
He spots Satoru walking confidently, that unmistakable white hair catching the light, when he suddenly steps into the street without looking. Suguru’s heart drops. A car is speeding by, and he knows he has to act.
“NO!” Suguru screams, panic coursing through him. But it’s too late; the sound of metal on metal fills the air as the car crashes into Satoru, sending him sprawling to the ground.
Time seems to slow as Suguru rushes toward the scene, his heart pounding. The crowd gathers, their faces a mix of shock and concern, but it feels suffocatingly still to him. Why aren’t they helping? He pushes through the onlookers, breathless and furious.
When he reaches Satoru, the driver is already yelling, voice filled with anger and disbelief. “You asshole! It was a red light! Everyone here saw it was a red light!”
Suguru’s eyes dart to Satoru, who lies on the pavement, clearly dazed. He can see the grimace on Satoru’s face, the way he winces as he tries to push himself up. The sight ignites a fire in Suguru’s chest, a mix of fear and rage that overpowers everything else.
“Get back!” Suguru snaps at the driver, his voice harsh and low, as he kneels beside Satoru. “What the hell were you thinking?”
He barely registers the driver’s protest; all he can focus on is Satoru. “Hey, hey, look at me,” Suguru says, gently gripping Satoru’s shoulder. “Are you okay? Can you hear me?”
Satoru blinks up at him, confusion swirling in those beautiful, blue eyes. “Suguru?” he murmurs, a hint of a smile threatening to break through despite the pain.
Suguru swallows hard, heart racing. “Yeah, it’s me. Just stay still, okay? Help is coming.” He can feel the panic rising again, but he forces himself to breathe, to keep his voice steady. He can’t let fear take over—not now, not when Satoru needs him.
People are still gathered around, some pulling out phones to call for help, others standing by, watching. Suguru’s anger flares again at their inaction. Why were they just standing there?
“Someone call an ambulance!” he shouts, eyes darting between Satoru and the crowd, desperate for action. He won’t let Satoru slip away, not like this.
The sound of sirens fills the air, cutting through the murmur of the crowd as the ambulance arrives. Suguru feels a rush of relief mixed with urgency as the paramedics jump into action, assessing Satoru’s condition.
“Is there family or friends here?” one of the paramedics asks, scanning the onlookers.
Without a second thought, Suguru steps forward. “I’m here. I’m… I’m a friend,” he says, voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside him. He doesn’t think about the label, doesn’t care how it sounds. In this moment, it feels like all that matters is being there for Satoru.
The paramedics don’t hesitate. They gesture for him to come inside the ambulance. Suguru climbs in, his heart pounding, the smell of antiseptic filling his nostrils as he moves closer to Satoru.
“Stay with me, okay?” he says, leaning over Satoru, who is lying on a stretcher, a worried frown creasing his forehead. Suguru reaches out, gripping Satoru’s hand, feeling the warmth of it beneath his palm.
“Suguru… I’m okay,” Satoru murmurs, though the tremor in his voice betrays the bravado. “Just a little… shaken.”
Suguru can’t help but smile at that. “A little shaken? You just got hit by a car!” He tries to keep his tone light, but the tension in his chest is still there, tightening with every passing moment.
The paramedics begin to check Satoru’s vitals, and Suguru watches, his heart racing. He wants to be strong, to support Satoru, but the fear of losing him looms over everything.
“Just focus on me,” Suguru says, keeping his grip firm. “You’re going to be fine. They’ll take care of you.”
Satoru looks at him then, and in that moment, everything else falls away. Those striking blue eyes—stormy and vulnerable—lock onto Suguru’s, and for a brief second, it feels like the world outside the ambulance has ceased to exist.
“Stay with me, okay?” Satoru whispers, his voice barely above a murmur. There’s an earnestness in his gaze that sends a ripple of warmth through Suguru’s chest, a flicker of something deeper that makes his heart ache.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Suguru promises.
Suguru learns that day that you need more than a car to kill off Satoru Gojo’s charm. Even as the paramedics carefully bandage his arm, Satoru keeps trying to flirt, his playful spirit shining through despite the circumstances.
“Seriously, you should be taking notes,” Satoru says with a smirk, wincing slightly as the medic wraps the gauze around his injury. “This is how you make an entrance. Dramatic, unforgettable.”
Suguru can’t help but chuckle, shaking his head. “You think this is charming? Getting hit by a car?”
“Hey, I didn’t get hit that hard,” Satoru replies, flashing a cheeky grin that makes Suguru’s heart race. “And at least I got your attention.”
“Your priorities are completely messed up,” Suguru retorts, though he can’t deny the warmth spreading through him at Satoru’s resilience.
“Say, let’s go out on a date,” Satoru says suddenly, his tone casual, but the words hit Suguru like a jolt of electricity.
His heart wants to leave his body suddenly, beating faster than it has in ages. “What?” he stammers, caught off guard. “You just got hit by a car!”
“Exactly,” Satoru replies, undeterred, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “Life’s too short to wait around. Of course, only if you don’t mind any of this,” He gestures to his bandaged arm, as if it’s a minor inconvenience rather than a serious incident.
Suguru can’t help but smile, despite the absurdity of it all. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Unbelievably charming?” Satoru quips, winking.
Suguru rolls his eyes, but the fluttering in his chest refuses to settle. “Okay, fine. I’ll go on a date with you, just stop talking.”
Satoru’s grin stretches wider, his eyes lighting up like he’s just won a game. “That’s all it took? I should’ve gotten hit by a car sooner.”
“Please don’t,” Suguru says, rubbing his temples as if this conversation is giving him a headache, though a smile lingers on his lips. “One accident is enough for me.”
Their day is fancy. There’s no other word for it. Well, there is the word expensive, but fancy is just right.
Satoru picks him up in a sleek, black sports car that looks like it costs more than Suguru’s rent for the entire year. The kind of car that purrs when it starts and turns heads when it cruises down the street. Suguru, however, barely has a moment to appreciate it before Satoru tosses him the keys with a grin.
“You’re driving,” Satoru declares, sliding into the passenger seat without a second thought.
“What?” Suguru stares at him, keys dangling from his fingers. “This is your car.”
“And I have terrible vision, so unless you want us to crash on our first date…” Satoru gestures vaguely at his glasses, which, upon closer inspection, are thicker than Suguru originally thought.
“You’re seriously telling me that you drive a car like this, and you can barely see?”
“Not a problem when someone like you is around to chauffeur me.” Satoru winks, looking utterly unbothered. “Come on, it’ll be fun. Fancy car, fancy guy. What more could you want?”
Suguru rolls his eyes but takes the driver’s seat, adjusting the mirrors and trying not to feel too out of place in such an expensive vehicle. “You’re ridiculous,” he mutters, starting the engine, which roars to life with a purr.
“And you’re already enjoying it,” Satoru says, leaning back in the passenger seat with a smirk.
Suguru can’t deny that there’s a thrill in driving something so luxurious. As they glide down the road, the city unfolding around them in flashes of neon lights and bustling streets, he starts to relax—just a little.
“So, where exactly are we going?” Suguru asks, glancing at Satoru, who seems to be enjoying himself far too much.
“You’ll see,” Satoru replies cryptically, tapping away on his phone as if orchestrating some grand plan. “Just keep driving, and don’t worry about a thing.”
Of course. Suguru should’ve expected nothing less.
They arrive at a restaurant that screams elegance, the kind of place with valet parking and chandeliers visible from the street. The building’s facade is sleek, with large glass windows and minimalistic gold lettering that Suguru can’t even pronounce. The air around it feels exclusive, like only the rich and famous have any business being there.
Suguru pulls up to the valet, already feeling out of his depth. Satoru, however, steps out with the ease of someone who’s done this a hundred times, handing the keys over without a second thought.
“Are you sure we’re dressed for this?” Suguru mutters, glancing down at his baggy clothes that suddenly feels too casual.
“You look perfect,” Satoru says, smoothing a wrinkle out of his own jacket. “Besides, no one here cares as long as you look like you belong. And you, gorgeous, belong.” He gives Suguru a quick once-over, his smile widening as if to say, trust me .
With no choice but to follow, Suguru lets Satoru lead him inside. The restaurant is even more extravagant on the inside, all soft lighting, white linens, and the quiet clink of expensive cutlery. The kind of place where laughter is a polite chuckle, and the servers move like shadows.
Suguru’s eyes widen as they sit and a leather-bound menu is placed in front of him. There are no prices anywhere, just fancy names of dishes that sound more like poetry than food.
Do they not believe in prices here?” Suguru asks, flipping through the menu in mild panic.
Satoru laughs softly, resting his chin on his hand, his blue eyes gleaming with amusement. “Black suits you,” he says, completely ignoring the question.
Suguru raises an eyebrow, momentarily thrown by the random comment. “What?”
Satoru’s gaze lingers on him, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “Your sweater. You look good in black. It’s a classic look, refined… kind of like this place.”
Suguru feels heat rise to his face, caught off guard by the compliment, though he quickly tries to brush it off. “Anyone looks good in black.”
“Not like you do,” Satoru replies smoothly, his voice dropping just enough to make Suguru’s heart skip a beat. His blue eyes flicker with a teasing light, and it’s infuriating how effortlessly he manages to slip under Suguru’s skin, even in moments like this.
Suguru shifts in his seat, trying to regain composure. “You’re unbelievable.”
“I’ve heard that before,” Satoru grins, leaning back as if he’s completely satisfied with himself.
Suguru rolls his eyes, but there’s no stopping the slight smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “Just order the food, will you?”
“Of course,” Satoru says with a wink, turning his attention to the server. As he rattles off selections from the menu with the ease of someone who knows their way around fine dining, Suguru watches him, still feeling the warmth of the compliment and wondering when exactly this night turned from absurd to something… more.
By the end of the night, Suguru had laughed more than he had in the last three years. He found himself sharing stories he hadn’t spoken about in ages, stories he once believed no one would care to hear. But Satoru listened—really listened—and that alone felt like a rare gift.
It isn’t just the laughter or the easy flow of conversation that had him reeling. It is the way Satoru made him feel seen, like Suguru’s thoughts and feelings were important, like there is something worth drawing out beneath the quiet exterior he’d built up for so long.
But most of all, he realizes he'd fallen for Satoru.
Suguru is not the kind of person to fall in love easily, if at all. He is the one who built walls high enough to keep anyone from getting too close, the one who rationalized emotions as fleeting and unreliable. But as they stand outside the restaurant, the cool night air brushing against them, Suguru has to admit, even if only to himself, that he had fallen in love with Satoru right there.
He glances over at Satoru, who is chatting away about some nonsense or another, his eyes still shining with that playful light. And Suguru can’t help but smile, because somehow, this ridiculous man had managed to crash into his life and knock down walls he didn’t even know he was still holding up.
It is terrifying and exhilarating all at once.
So when Satoru takes his hand on the drive home, Suguru lets him. His fingers fit perfectly between Satoru’s, and the warmth of the simple gesture sent a surge of emotions through him that he wasn’t prepared for. He doesn’t pull away. For the first time in a long time, he doesn’t want to.
And when Satoru kisses him—softly, unexpectedly, with a tenderness Suguru hadn’t known he needed—he kisses him back. There is no hesitation, no second-guessing, just the feeling of Satoru’s lips on his, the world narrowing down to that moment, and nothing else.
For the first time in years, the weight on his chest lifts, if only a little, as he melted into Satoru's embrace. And for once, he let himself believe that maybe, just maybe, this terrifying, exhilarating thing between them could be real.
On the third date, Satoru invites him to his house. It is a sleek, modern place, just like Suguru had imagined, with floor-to-ceiling windows and an effortless style that mirrored Satoru’s bold personality. They spend the evening talking, laughing, and slowly peeling back more layers of themselves than either had expected. It is comfortable, even with the ever-present tension between them humming in the background.
By the fourth date, that tension finally snaps. Satoru invites him into his bed, no games, no pretense, just an open, vulnerable offer Suguru finds himself unable to refuse. There is something about the way Satoru looks at him in that moment—serious, but with the familiar glint of mischief in his eyes—that makes Suguru’s heart race.
When they come together, it isn’t rushed or desperate. It is slow, intimate, like both of them had been waiting for this, savoring the moments that led to it. Suguru doesn't realize how much he’d wanted it until it happened, until Satoru’s warmth surrounded him, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he felt truly at ease.
It isn’t just about the physical connection. It is about the unspoken understanding between them, the strange way Satoru had slipped into his life, into his heart, and made Suguru feel something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in years—safe, wanted, and maybe even loved.
It took three months into their relationship for Suguru to finally look for professional help. He had been avoiding it for a long time, convincing himself that he could handle things on his own. And, in many ways, he was better. He feels better—lighter, even—since Satoru came into his life. But deep down, Suguru knows that love alone wasn’t enough to cure the heaviness he had carried for so long.
Satoru’s presence brought a brightness to his days that he hadn’t felt in years, but there were still moments when the weight would creep back in, subtle but unmistakable. Suguru had been through enough to know that this wasn’t something he could ignore forever. He needs more than just fleeting happiness. He needs real healing.
And so, one evening, after Satoru had fallen asleep beside him, Suguru makes the decision. He pulls out his phone, quietly searching for therapists in the area, his heart pounding as he reads through reviews and profiles. It isn’t easy to admit to himself that he needed help, but he knows that this was the next step. The only step, if he wants to keep moving forward—not just for Satoru, but for himself.
Because even though Satoru makes the world brighter, Suguru needs to learn how to live with his own darkness. And this time, he isn’t going to do it alone.
It takes much longer for Suguru to tell Satoru what he had been planning to do that first day—the day Satoru collided with him on the highway. It’s not a conversation that comes easily. Suguru had buried the memory deep, hoping he’d never have to unearth it, but eventually, the weight of it became too much to keep inside.
One night, as they sit together on the couch, Satoru absentmindedly tracing patterns on Suguru’s hand, Suguru finally speaks. His voice is low, hesitant, as he reveals the truth about what had been on his mind that day—the dark place he had been in, and how close he had come to doing something irreversible.
At first, Satoru doesn’t say anything. His beautiful, blue eyes—those same eyes that had captivated Suguru from the very start—fill with sorrow. Tears wells up, spilling over as his face twisted with a mixture of worry, care, and love so deep it made Suguru’s chest ache.
Satoru cries for him, for what could have been, for the pain Suguru had carried alone for so long. And when he finally speaks, his voice is soft, but unwavering. "I love you," he says, the words laden with more meaning than ever before, as if those three words can protect Suguru from all the darkness in the world.
And Suguru, who has loved him since that first date—maybe even since that first moment he saw those beautiful blue eyes—looks at Satoru, his heart full and unburdened in a way he had never thought possible. “I love you too,” he whispers, and in that moment, it felt like the truest thing he had ever said.
They hold each other close that night, no more words needed, just the comfort of knowing that they had made it through the hardest part together.