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Chapter Text

The sound of waves crashing into the shore hit Suguru's ears as he stood at the edge of the sea with his feet in the water. It had rained earlier, and he could smell the sand's moist fragrance. For him, ever since he had been a little kid, this beach had been part of his fondest memories— probably his only fond memory. His feet took him here every time he needed a break from life. This place had been his refuge then, a fragment of joy in an otherwise fragmented life. Now, standing there once more, he felt a twinge of longing— a quiet ache for something he couldn’t quite name. An hour beforehand, he had gotten into an argument with his parents, who, as always, had tried to set him up with the new girl in town— Shoko, her supposed name was.

"We just think you should make some friends," his Ma had said in her soft voice. But he knew she just wanted him to win her over and eventually marry him off. Christ's sake, he was only seventeen.

The sunset had created colourful brush strokes along the entire sky. Purple, orange, and red mixed together to form a flurry of vibrancy. It was truly beautiful. Suguru always had this urge to get on his knees and weep until his eyes gave out whenever he saw the sunset. There was something so melancholic about it. Changing his gaze from the sunset upward to the birds, he felt envious. The birds. Oh, how Suguru envied them. He had always felt like this. It seemed to him he was born of envy, and he would die of envy. Every time he saw them flying above him, soaring through the sky endlessly, he envied them. He envied their freedom, their ability to go wherever and whenever they wanted.

He hated it. He hated everything. He hated how birds were happier than him. He hated how his parents always pushed him to be someone he was not. He hated how his father always nagged him to shorten the length of his hair because he "looked like a girl." He hated how his family always thought he was strange. He hated how blue looked. He hated life. He hated himself. He hated being a sinner.

Oh. That wasn’t a thought that was supposed to go through his mind at the moment. He wasn't supposed to think about that right now. That was solely meant for his "before-going-to-bed" thoughts.

He quickly locked the thought away— the sinful thought.

He forced himself to focus on the birds— the birds that had flown away long ago. He had been staring at the orange sky.

"Does your neck not hurt?"

Suguru snapped his head towards the source of the sound, and purple met blue. The first thing that passed through Suguru's mind was: blue eyes. The second: pretty. It was a person— a boy. Snow-white hair obstructed his view, hair that stuck out in a thousand different directions and looked as if it had never felt the touch of a comb. His face, plump pink lips, and rosy cheeks. But what intrigued Suguru the most was the boy's eyes. Bright blue stared back at him, and Suguru felt as if he was being suffocated. He might as well just yell ‘take me’ and give up his life to this ethereal creature that stood before him. He hated blue.

"...Do you have a staring problem?" He heard him say, causing Suguru to immediately snap out of his trance.

"Oh— um— what?"

The boy sighed loudly. "I said, do you have a staring problem?"

What? "What?"

The boy's face contorted into an annoyed expression. "Never mind." He looked away from Suguru for a fraction of a second, huffed, and looked back at him. 

"Ugh... What's your name?"

Suguru couldn’t really process his thoughts right now. This boy had seemingly appeared out of thin air, and demanded his name with a stuck-up air to him. He was quite sure he had never before felt the feeling that was surging through his veins right now. Sure, he had been annoyed by the boys in his class at the local school in town. But, what he felt right now was pure aggravation.

"Hello?” The other boy waved his hand in-front of Suguru’s face, “You got a hearing problem too?" Suguru was not doing this today. It might end up with someone's murder, and the victim would not be him. He turned around on his feet and started walking away.

"Hey!" the stuck-up yelled. "Hey, I was talking to you!"

Suguru quickened his pace. He didn’t want to be associated with the creep. 

"Hey!" Suguru was about to break into a run, when he felt himself being tackled to the ground from behind, by the brat.

Suguru fell face-first on the sand, his right cheek smushed against it. “Hey— let me go—!" Suguru tried speaking without getting wet sand into his mouth.

The boy didn’t budge, though.

“No. Tell me your name first." The asshole locked Suguru's arms behind his back while sitting on him.

Suguru turned his face to the side so he would have space to speak properly, without his mouth getting filled with wet sand. "Let me go, or you'll never know my name," Suguru answered.

"Tell me your name, or I'll never let you go," the little bitch retorted.

"Let me go first."

"Tell me your name first."

"Why do you even want to know my name?"

The boy sighed. "I mean, if you're not going to tell me your name, we'll be here for the rest of the evening. I can wait. But, can you?"

The sky was going dark, and Suguru knew he had to be home before it was fully black. His Ma had always told him not to wander around after 7 at night. It was a set-in-stone rule. She had always been a bit over-protective of Suguru.

"Let me... let me go." Suguru struggled against the boy's hold on him and, eventually, managed to get free. He pushed the blue-eyed boy off his back.

"How did you— hey! Where are you going!?"

He heard the boy yell after him, but Suguru ran as fast as he could. He pushed his legs, taking long strides, making sure the creep couldn’t catch up to him. He ran and ran until he saw the door of his home. He quickly opened it and shut it behind him. Suguru took a deep breath before realising what had just happened. He was watching the birds, a boy came to him, chased and tackled him down, and was stubborn about wanting to know his name.

Creep. Suguru nodded. Yeah. Definitely a creep.

"Suguru! Are you home?" He could hear his Ma yell from the kitchen.

"Yes, Ma!" Suguru responded. He breathed out, calmed his heart rate, and went to the kitchen.

He hated blue.

________________________________

The next day, as Suguru woke up on his small, rackety single bed, he had an awful feeling in his stomach. It was pooling in his gut, and something was filling it with dread. He didn’t know what, though. Suguru wasn’t sure if not knowing was a blessing, or curse.

Packing his bag, and putting on his already worn-out shoes, he made his way down the stairs, and could see his Ma sitting on the sofa with a cup of tea in her hands. It wasn’t much, but the sight was everything to Suguru. His father was barely home, and his Ma almost never had time for herself, so it was always a relief whenever he saw her spending time on herself, even if it was something as small as a cup of tea.

He made his way to her, taking small steady steps, a small smile blooming on his face.

“G’morning, Ma.” Suguru spoke softly, kissing her on the forehead.

“Good morning, love. I’ve made your lunch. It’s in the kitchen.”

“Thanks, Ma.” He went into the kitchen, slowly taking the red and blue checkered napkin-covered lunch on the small wooden table. It was lovely, that his Ma always made lunch for him, even if he was closer to being an adult, than a child. His Ma could be overbearing sometimes, but her care and love always overpowered it.

Suguru exited the kitchen. The feeling of dread was still residing in his stomach, but he pushed it down, forcing his words out. “I’m leaving for school. Bye, love you.” He gave his Ma a small peck on the cheek, and made his way to the front door.

“Love you, too. Come home safe!”

“I will!” Suguru replied, and with that, he took his old second-hand bicycle that him and his Ma had bought from the old gardener that lived two streets away, and rode it to school.

It was a small red-bricked building, towards the outskirts of towns. His school was an old-fashioned Japanese-structured building with intricate designs, and minute details. There were always theories made by students, about the school. Some spoke that it was a self-made temple of a single buddhist, that lived in the area centuries ago. Others called their bullshit, and said some random people cut the trees down to build a small-scale building for kids to study in. Suguru, obviously, liked the former more, since it was interesting, and far more creative than the latter.

He parked his bicycle on the side of the school, and tried to shoo away the worsening dread in his stomach, and he finally found the culprit of it, as he entered the class.

Suguru hated himself. He hated blue. He wanted to tear the world apart and ask God why this was happening to him because, to his surprise, the creep was sitting besides his desk. At school. He was at Suguru's school.

So now he's going to stalk me?

"Oh wow.” The white-haired boy started, “What a coincidence... Er, name?"

Suguru almost bashed his head in the wall right then and there.

"...Still quiet as always," the creep said, shaking his head like a disappointed mother would.

"What's your problem?" Suguru spoke up, clenching his fists at his side, in anger.

"Oh, he has a voice!" the creep exclaimed, opening his bright blue, almost-blinding eyes, comically wide.

Suguru groaned loudly, "Can you leave me alone?"

The creep looked at him with a no-I-cannot-are-you-an-idiot expression. He turned 

his eyes toward the desk beside Suguru's.

No. "I am-" No, God. Please. "-your desk-mate!"

What a joke.

"The name's Gojo Satoru, by the way," Gojo said as he held his hand out to shake Suguru’s. Suguru, of-course, refused to shake it, and sat down in his seat, slowly inching it away from Gojo’s.

"No need to be scared of me. I don't bite." Gojo said, and grinned slyly.

Suguru thought that was probably the worst thing he'd ever seen, or heard in his life. Gojo, though, had noticed the way Suguru had formerly inched his seat further away from him, brought it closer to Suguru’s, so it was the same distance it was at before.

"You still haven't told me your name.” Suguru swallowed down an exasperating sigh, as he heard Gojo open his mouth to speak once again. “How am I supposed to address you from now on? Fellow classmate? Long-haired guy? Bangs?"

Suguru felt his eyebrow twitch as he kept his eyes focused down on his desk.

"Hey," Gojo poked him, not even seven seconds later. "Hey. Hey. Hey. Tell me your name. I am not some creep, I swear." He continued poking Suguru's arm. "Hey. Ugly bangs—"

Suguru slammed his hand down on the table loudly and looked at Gojo. "If I tell you my name, will you leave me alone?"

Suguru could see the way Gojo's eyes lit up and the way his hair, almost like the cartoons in the local newspaper, seemed to inflate.

"This is the happiest I have ever been, my beloved desk-mate." He answered, grinning widely.

Suguru was going to end his own life.

"Geto Suguru. That is my name. Now please, leave me alone." Suguru turned his head away from the annoyance beside him.

"Woah. Geto Suguru," Gojo repeated. "Suguru. Su-gu-ru. Hey, we both have matching names."

Suguru wondered if his Ma would forgive him if he were to, hypothetically, murder someone — specifically someone from his class, specifically his desk-mate, specifically someone with pearl-white hair and those gorgeous blue eyes.

"Hey," Gojo poked Suguru again.

"What?" Suguru hissed.

"I think we should be friends."

It turned out, Gojo could be quite funny at times. Who would have thought the supposed ‘creep’ Suguru met at the beach would have a potential career in comedy?

Suguru turned toward Gojo and deadpanned. "Haha, no."

"What? Why?" Gojo whined.

Why, he asks. Why, he wonders.

"Take a guess." Suguru gave him a do-not-test-my-patience smile.

"Is it because I tackled you on the beach, kept nagging to know your name, and possibly gave off creepy vibes?" Gojo rambled.

Suguru snapped his fingers. "Right on the first try! Good job. Now leave me alone."

Gojo stopped annoying him, and Suguru thought that was that.

But apparently, fate had other plans for him.

Chapter Text

He was ten at the time.

Suguru was never truly much of a talker. Ever since he was a kid, he would spend his time outside, watching the dragonflies as they zoomed around him, or walk across the peaceful shore. He would lay on the grass at the crack of dawn, and hear the hum of the crickets. And as he dilly-dallied his time away, enjoying every peaceful moment, he remembered the moment he saw a kid in his class draw something on a piece of paper. It wasn’t some monumental drawing, or an awe-insipring sacred work. No, it was just a drawing of an eye. A simple eye. Yet, Suguru felt drawn towards it. He could see the kid sketch on the paper, drawing details of the eye’s rim and each eyelash with the subtle movements of the charcoal pencil. He felt entranced, not being able to keep his gaze away from it. So, as curiosity took over his young and naive mind, he decided to try drawing on his own. 

Suguru remembers the first ever charcoal pencil he had bought, with what small amount of money his mother had given him the week before. He went to the town’s local stationary shop. The town wasn’t big. It was a small one, on the side of the shore. But, Suguru never hated the rural area. After all, it was quite easy navigating through it, without the fear of getting lost. Every nook and cranny of his hometown had been ingrained in his mind. It was like reciting the words of your favourite poem. And so, as he made his way through narrow cobbled streets, he bought his charcoal pencil.

Using all his money on the pencil, he ended up using the few papers he had for his schoolwork. And as the pencil touched the paper, black smudging on coffee-stained white, Suguru fell in love.

He was mesmerised. He was entranced. And it felt like breathing to him. Every stroke he made on the paper, he felt himself delve more into the feeling. He was pretty sure this was what he had been missing in his oh-so-terrible ten years of existence.

And, as Suguru grew, so did his passion for arts.

Until, some idiot decided to talk to him about it.

“Watchu’ drawing there, Suguru?”, Gojo the ever-suffering obnoxious pompous stuck-up brat, asked.

Suguru who had taken shelter under a tree, to draw in peace, rolled his eyes and huffed, slamming the sketchbook (one of his many, using all the money his mother gave him on pencils and books), shut. “None of your business.” Suguru seethed.

“But I want to see.” Gojo whined. Suguru was always good at keeping his anger intact. In fact, his mother actually loved the quality about him. The ever-patient son of hers. But, he felt it slipping out quite easily now. The brat did wonders to him.

“Leave me alone.” Suguru bluntly replied.

“But I want to spend time with you.” Gojo pouted, his eyebrows creasing to a comical extent, as he crossed his arms over his chest. But, this. But, that. Can’t the world just leave him to his misery?

“I’m afraid I don’t want any company right now”, Suguru replied, looking away from those piercing blue eyes, and down towards the closed sketchbook in his hands.

“But—“

“Oh, for God’s sake!” Suguru stood up immediately. Gojo stood up too, as if following his every move. “I don’t want to talk to anyone right now. ‘Least of all, you.”

Something mischievous gleamed in Gojo’s eyes for a split second before he was putting the back of his hand to his forehead, and the other to his chest dramatically, “Woe is me. Woe is me! All I wanted was some quality time spent with my dearest beloved desk-mate, but it seems I am the fool to demand even an ounce of your attention!”

Suguru felt his eye twitch, “Ugh! You—“ he pointed his finger at Gojo, “— are an insufferable bastard!” He stormed off, leaving Gojo to his dramatics, as he heard him call after him in an amused tone.

“Dearest, don’t leave me!” Gojo shouted after Suguru, as he marched away. Suguru felt his blood pumping to his head, his ears ringing with pure vexation, and he was sure that stupid excuse of a— of a— dollop-head! would end up sending Suguru to jail.

He hated blue.

Gojo’s annoying advances towards Suguru did not lessen, but increased, to his dismay.

Every morning, he would come to class to see a note on his table, and a stupid inappropriate drawing made on it. Suguru would crumple it up in his hands, flushed from head-to-toe in embarrassment, praying to god that no one in his class saw the incongruous piece of what Gojo would call “humour”.

As he would crumple the piece of paper, the annoying-arsed culprit would show up in front of him, a full-toothed grin displayed on his face. And, as Suguru would see that stupid, annoying smile, he made a promise to himself.

To wipe that foolish grin off his face.

And to that, he stuck. Really, it was the only thing keeping him going. How ironic. The bane of his existence being the object to his goal.

________________________________

The school day had just ended, and he could see the grey clouds outside cast a gloomy atmosphere around them. It was going to rain. Surely, Suguru should stop expecting sunny days, at this point. He hated the rain. It made his clothes stick to his skin, and that utterly repulsed him. Not only that, the air would be humid for days, the soil wet, causing ungodly awful squelching sounds every time someone stepped on it, which Suguru despised.

But, somehow, for the first time in a long time, he was not quite disappointed at the rain. Because, as it turns out, the pretentious arse-hole, his desk-mate, the one and only Gojo Satoru’s hair, had increased ten times its original volume.

Really, Gojo never fails to surprise him. He could see the boy trying to pat down his hair again and again to reduce the size of it, but to no avail. And, Suguru, ever so happy at the opportunity presenting itself before him, took it without hesitation.

“If you keep hitting your head like that, your brain might actually decrease ten-fold.” Suguru mused at the scowl evident on Gojo’s face. He had left the teasing for the end of the day, watching amusedly, at Gojo’s several attempts to tame his wild hair.

“Piss off, bangs.” He replied, obviously annoyed at his messy, voluptuous hair.

“Where’s this sudden animosity coming from, dearest?” Suguru replied jovially, taking pride in vexing the uppity loser.

“Oh, you think you’re so funny.” Gojo replied, rolling his eyes and putting his pencils and books inside his small shoulder-bag.

“Tell me, does this always happen whenever the clouds come bearing the rain? Or, is today a special occasion? Should I start marking my calendars, as a weather forecast, after seeing the state of your hair from now on?” Suguru teased him further. Oh, how fun this was.

“You have your fun while it lasts, joker. We’ll see how you’ll react when it’s your turn at the end of the stick.” Gojo glared at him. Truly a sight to see.

“Been there, done that. What should I call you from now on? Porcupine? Hedgehog? Dandelion?”

“Piss OFF!” Gojo yelled, making heads turn towards him, as he stomped away out of the classroom.

Suguru, though, was utterly pleased. Served him right, after all.

He picked up his things and made his way out of the small, red-bricked school. He could hear thunder, and was grateful it hadn’t started pouring yet. Maybe, he could make his way back home before the raindrops started touching the ground.

And, Suguru was sure he had never been quite happy and pleased after school before. He wanted to twirl and giggle in the streets and run to his heart’s content. He could kiss anyone right now. Hell, he could even kiss Gojo right now.

How did that saying go again? Öga for Öga

Chapter Text

Suguru made his way to his house, a little skip to his steps, a result of the very obvious and well-deserved discomfort he had caused Gojo. Suguru deserved a pat on his back for that one. His mind was already brewing with various ideas of how he could even more annoy the white-haired arse. Maybe, putting glue on his chair, so his pants would rip when he’d stand up? Perhaps, putting some bitter concoction into his oh-so-precious water bottle he always had with him? Suguru nearly laughed at the idea of it. Seeing Gojo’s face contort in horror would for sure make Suguru’s day— his every day.

He eventually made it to his house, stopping short to pluck a small flower that had bloomed at the side of the entrance, and putting it in-between his right ear and his head. Oh, how he loved today. But, as always, all good things must come to an end, because as soon as he closed the door behind him, he felt the happiness drain out of him immediately.

He's already here? Suguru checked what date it was in his mind. He was pretty sure this was not supposed to happen for one more week.

There was another pair of shoes in the small rack in the tiny entrance of his house. A larger, leather brown, polished pair of shoes to be specific. And, Suguru felt all the rage seep back into his bones.

Not a single peaceful day. Fuck his life. He cursed his ancestors for bringing him into this very place.

His dad was here, and his world was ending. His dad, the man who made him and ruined him at the same time. A pitiful person, truly — at-least that is what Suguru thought.

He never got along with his father, as most sons and fathers didn't. So, Suguru did not quite feel his and his father's dynamic to be out of the ordinary. His father had always been a prideful conservative jerk. And, Suguru despised him for it.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself for the interaction that would most definitely take place, Suguru reached for the flower that he had just tucked in his ear, crumbling it into his hands, and stepped away from the entrance, entering the living room.

And there he was, the man of the show, sitting on the single seated sofa, one knee perched on the other, a newspaper in his hands, with the atmosphere of a man who ruled the world. At-least he did Suguru’s. And, Suguru was mortified.

His dad's eyes lifted to meet his, and Suguru was pretty sure he heard himself crack a little at that. He stared at his father's figure which stood up from his almost ‘throne-like’ seat.

“Ah. Suguru, my son." His father called to him, in his deep scornful voice. “Come, greet me."

He opened his arms wide, gesturing Suguru towards him. And Suguru obliged.

“Hello, father." Suguru said.

His father hugged him. An obligation, really. His father never hugged Suguru because of love. He only ever showed 'affection' for the sake of showing it.

As they pulled apart, Suguru heard his father click his tongue in an annoyed manner, a small and sharp 'tch' coming out of his mouth. Suguru resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

Ah, there it is. Suguru thought. Only took him thirty seconds this time. What a record.

"Suguru." His father voiced, sternly. “How many times have I told you to cut your hair?"

He took some of Suguru’s strands into his hands and looked at it with the same disdain as he did his son. Perhaps even more, Suguru would think, if he did not know any better.

“You are a man. And, you shall look and act like one. I have told you many times to stop growing your hair out. You look like a— girl." His father stopped for a moment, to prove how big of an ‘offense’ to Suguru it was. But Suguru was barely affected by it. Women were goddesses, anyway.

“And," His father continued. “You should also give up your girlish habits as-well, such as your drawings. I did take a look at the state of your room..."

And at that, Suguru truly paused and his eyes widened a bit. His father had gone through his room?

“You see, Suguru. You are not the son of any man. You are my son. And I require you to act like it. You are made to be a businessman. You are made to inherit mine after I am gone, do you hear me?"

But, Suguru wasn't hearing any of it. He went through my room? He thought, distressed. Did he see the drawings? Does he know?

"Suguru." His father said sharply, bringing Suguru’s attention back to the man in-front of him. “Heed my words. I do not want you lingering around like you belong with a bunch of poofs," — Suguru's hand twitched a bit at that word — “Go wash your face. Look at the state of you." His father eyed him up and down with quite a lot of disdain you wouldn't expect a father to look at his son with. Suguru thought it  was quite humorous that a man whose so-called ‘business’ was barely working, would have this much pride.

He counted down the seconds till he could get out of this conversation. He was itching to get back to the comfort of his room.

“And for god's sake, do something about that awful hair of yours."

Suguru almost laughed at that. His father spoke about his hair as if it was an unpleasant and ghastly thing. To his father, it was. But he never quite cared what his father thought of him. (At-least, that's what he told himself.)

After a moment, Suguru spoke, voicing his thoughts for the very first time during the entire conversation, “…Am I excused?"

His father took the state of his son one more time, eyeing him down. And with an etched frown, he spoke in a dismissive manner, “Yes, you may go."

And Suguru nearly fled from the living room.

__________________________________________

Suguru took three steps at a time — perhaps, even more. He just wanted to get to his room, and see exactly what his father had been yammering about. ’State of his room’? Oh, he prayed to god, that his stupid father had not seen them.

He quickly opened the door to his bedroom, and strode to his small, single bed, holding the side of the mattress up, and feeling for the various pages of parchment he had been hiding there.

There. He swiftly tucked them out, and checked for any smudges. Charcoal drawings were very easily smudged, and if his father had gone through them, Suguru would surely know.

But alas, Suguru took a deep breath of relief. His father, the bastard, had in-fact not gone through his very questionable drawings of anatomy. Suguru was sure he had just aged twenty years because of the stress the man had given him. And, the truth was, was that they weren’t even slightly inappropriate. Suguru just lived with a highly conservative man who gasped like a dramatic bitch whenever he saw men with long hair. The horror.

Feeling like all the world’s weight had been lifted off his shoulders, Suguru tucked the papers back in their place and made his way to the bathroom to take a shower, and ‘do something about that awful hair of his’. Suguru chuckled at the thought of his father’s dramatics. What a life he lived.

He barely even stepped inside, when he heard a knock at his bedroom door. Breathe in. Breathe out. He could do this.

"Suguru. It's your Ma." He could hear her gentle voice ushering him from right outside the door, and he nearly sprinted and yanked it open. He loved his Ma, he really did. She was perhaps the only bright and good thing in his life. The only stability in his otherwise precarious and rocky life. Whereas Suguru seemed (at-least to himself) always angry, his mother depicted tranquility. Wanting to be like her felt too much like she was the sun, and him Icarus. It would only result in his undoing. She was everything he was not. And, to Suguru’s immense dismay, he was the spitting image of his father.

"Suguru?" his Ma spoke his name once again. He realised he had just been staring at her like a fool. At her rough and warm eyes, turning soft whenever she smiled, and scornful whenever he made her cry.

He quickly pushed these thoughts aside, “Yes, Ma?"

She smiled, her lips contorting and stretching across her face in a warm way. Suguru could cry. "Only here to tell you that you are to join us for supper."

It just kept getting better, didn’t it?

Suguru exhaled a long sigh, and spoke in a strained voice, "Is— is father going to be there?" It was a stupid question, Suguru knew that, but he needed the confirmation either way.

His Ma looked at him with pity, and Suguru burned under her gaze. He hated it. She cupped his right cheek with her calloused hand.

"Of course, your father's going to be there." She whispered, and Suguru left out his sigh this time. He was so done with his father. All he did was bring some dark and gloomy atmosphere to their former bright household. Suguru was pretty sure he had some evil demons attached to him, from wherever he spent his time when he was not here.

"Now," his Ma tapped him on the cheek twice with the hand that was cupping it. “Go and get ready. Make yourself presentable. You know how your father gets."

Suguru rolled his eyes, "He wouldn't be here to get anything."

Suguru knew it was an immature thing to say, and probably didn’t make any sense, but his Ma got it. She always got what he tried to say.

"Now now, it is as much his place, as it is ours. Tidy yourself up." She spoke firmly, leaving no room for arguments and ended the conversation, seeing herself out.

Wow.

As much his place? Suguru scoffed. It would be, if he spent it with his family, rather than kissing other people’s arses in some 'elegant' society where old men suffocate in their money and women lament over their fate. What a joke.

Suguru sighed heavily and took out a teal knitted sweater, sniffing it.

Good enough. He thought with a half shrug. It surely was good enough to make himself 'look presentable.'

Looks this, looks that. God.

He made his way to the bathroom, shutting off his thoughts.

__________________________________________

By the time he had made his way downstairs, his father was already seated at their small dining table, stuffing his mouth with food like a pig, and his Ma was just staring down at her plate, food untouched. It was clear to Suguru (and to anyone, for that matter) that some sort of argument had taken place. Typical, really. Suguru was unfazed by it. It was to be expected every time his father came back to their house. He would say some boisterous thing, choosing words that would for sure hurt his Ma, and he would take pride in the fact that he made her cry, or go silent, or lose her appetite, just like she was now. Suguru hated his father.

His Ma decided to look up front he table at this moment to look at her son. And, Suguru felt crying once again as she saw that gentle smile she reserved for her son each time his parents fought.

“Come on, love. Sit down.” His Ma urged him. He quietly took his seat besides her, his father barely paying attention to him. He was clearly too busy trying to act like an animal who had been starved for two weeks. And, who knows, maybe he was starved. Who knows, maybe he hadn’t eaten anything in high society, where he supposedly ‘lived in extravagance’. And, really, Suguru needed to stop comparing him to different animals. It was surely an insult to them.

Suguru was too busy glaring at his father’s repulsive manners, that he hadn’t seen his Ma fill his plate with food. An Angel, she was.

Suguru kissed her on top of the head, “Thanks, Ma.”

“Stop that.” His father spoke to him. Here we go again, Suguru rolled his eyes.

“I’m telling ya, son. Your mother isn’t quite the innocent naive woman she paints herself to be.”

Oh, and that got Suguru’s blood boiling. He clenched the hand that was on the table and was about to retort to his father’s very ironic sentence, but his Ma put a hand on his and shook her head. “Eat your dinner, son.” She said, gently.

Suguru heard his father scoff, and readied himself for some petty comment, or an ironic statement. But, surprisingly, he just continued stuffing his mouth, which concerned Suguru, a lot.

Suguru just kept glaring at his father. The way his nose scrunched every time his mouth moved to chew those big bites he would take, like a caveman deprived of actual food; the way his eyebrows creased in concentration every five seconds; the way he clanked the spoon to the plate, again and again, being the only noise in the small room. It was all too much, really. And, Suguru didn’t even know why he was staring at his father, or paying attention to him. Suguru didn’t know why he did most things. He just did.

He opened his mouth to take his first bite, when his father cleared his throat. “Have you met her, yet?”

And, there goes Suguru’s appetite.

“Met who?”, Suguru said through a restricted throat, trying to feign ignorance.

“You know who”, his father spoke. “Shoko, of course. You have to marry her soon, son. You know this. We’ve discussed it numerous times.”

And, well. Yes, they had. That seemed like the only thing they discussed with him, really. Marriage, women, Shoko, vows, weddings, fucking babies. It was all very surreal to Suguru. There was no way he was going to get married just because his parents said so. He hadn’t even met the girl yet, and he didn’t even know if he’d like her. Or, if she’d like him. And, what if only one of them liked the other? What if they both hated each other? What, then?

But, his father continued, very oblivious (or not) to Suguru’s internal crisis. “It’s to uphold your family’s honour, Suguru. Surely, you are aware of that.”

What honour? Suguru had the urge to ask, but he kept his mouth shut.

“You know, you can’t live your life running around doing nothing useful, and spending it on that disgraceful art stuff, or whatever. And, who knows? Maybe, a wife might make you cut that hair of yours.”

And, it was back to the hair, wasn’t it? It was always back to the hair. Seriously, what sick obsession did his father have with his hair?

Suguru rolled his eyes, and looked away. “Don’t you roll your eyes at me, boy.” His father spoke sternly,” Tch, what am I going to do with you?”

As if he could do anything. His father was pretty much useless. All he did was show up on their doorstep every now and then, comment on Suguru’s physical traits, upset his Ma, wreak havoc, and leave. What a show, really. And, what? What could he really do if Suguru disobeyed him? What could he actually do? How much power did he truly have? None, wasn’t it? His father was utterly powerless. Yes, he terrified Suguru. And, yes, Suguru pretty much did everything he asked of him. But, what if he stopped? What if he stopped dropping everything at his beck and call? What if he—

“Suguru.” His father spoke.

Suguru ignored him. He always kept unnecessarily yapping about weird shit. What if Suguru just ran away?

“Suguru.”

What if he just ran away and never looked back? Of course, he would take his mother with him. The nearest train station was only a few kilometres away. He could easily do it—

“I’m speaking to you, boy!” His father yelled, throwing his spoon at Suguru’s plate harshly. “Look at me while I’m talking to you!”
Suguru stared at his plate, refusing to meet his father’s eyes. “I will not tolerate this disrespect! I come here, after long hours of labour, working my ass off, just to be met with disregard and insolence! I will not tolerate it!”

Suguru stood up from his seat, and looked at the man seated in front of him, “Maybe, don’t ‘visit’ us, then!” He yelled, and strode out the house before his father could react or say something that would end up in something he and Suguru would both regret, and slammed the door harshly after him.

What pish. Suguru thought, as he stomped out into the small grassy pathway, making his way to the beach, as he always did when he was angry. He wanted to take his mind off of it— off of everything; off of his father's disapproving remarks; of his mother’s hurt face; of the girl they both wanted him to get married to. He was so tired. Couldn’t he get one day of peace? Just one day? Suguru was sure it would solve all of his problems. It ended up bringing a smile to his face. Who was he kidding, really? A day of peace? Yeah, right.

Suguru clicked his tongue as his eyes made way to a figure standing at the shore. And, Suguru sighed a very long sigh. It was Gojo; it was always Gojo. He was very near to combusting, and was pretty sure a vein was about to pop in his forehead. The universe hated him. He was sure of it.

Suguru turned around, not wanting to interact with a white-haired little bitch, who had nothing better to do than ruin Suguru’s mood.

“Hey!” Suguru stopped in his tracks, as he heard a voice call after him. “Hey, Suguru!”

Suguru pretended he didn’t hear him, and resumed his walk away from the cocky brat, his feet moving faster. He was quite near to breaking out in a run when he heard footsteps, and felt an arm sling around his shoulders forcefully. “Heya, desk-mate!”

Oh, god. Suguru groaned internally.

“Uh-oh. Did I catch you in a bad mood?” Gojo said, his glow-in-the-dark eyes raking over Suguru’s face. He really, really didn’t want to talk to Gojo right now. He just wanted some alone time. That was all he was asking for.

“You're always running from me. You really don’t like talking to me, do you?” Gojo spoke once again, in a tone that indicated he just broke the world’s hardest code. Suguru was seriously not in the mood for this.

“Wow, you sure are smart. Are you sure you weren’t some great detective in your past life, or something?” Suguru humoured him.

“Ho-ho! You’ve got a sense of humour too! My desk-mate is truly amazing.” Suguru was going to drown himself.

“Get off me.” Suguru said, bluntly.

“Haha, no.”

“I’ll kick you in the balls.”

“I’ll shave your hair off.”

Suguru gasped, shocked at the sheer audacity. “You wouldn’t.”

“Hey, I wouldn’t if you wouldn’t.”

“Bitch.”

And, Gojo just laughed at that. Ugh, Suguru was going to murder him. “Hey, I can read that look in your eyes. Don’t kill me now, I’ve got much to repent for. You wouldn’t want your lovely desk-mate going to hell, would you?”

Suguru wanted to whine at this point. He was so fucking lame.

“Have you got one single funny bone in your body?” Suguru asked, purely done with Gojo’s bullshit.

“Are you sure you want an answer to that?” Gojo wiggled his eyebrows, and Suguru felt his face go beet-red. The fair-haired man just smirked at that. Oh, he was insufferable.

"Whatever." Suguru muttered under his breath, and started walking forwards. Gojo quickly fell into step with him, his arm finding home on Suguru's shoulders once again.

They just kept walking after that; Gojo’s annoying presence besides Suguru’s, and his annoying arm around Suguru’s shoulders; their feet moving together, taking them god-knows-where. Suguru didn’t like admitting it, but it was quite peaceful. Who knew Gojo shutting his mouth up would bring such a placid reaction? And, Suguru did feel himself relax under the weight of Gojo’s arm, to his dismay. It also prevented his mind from overflowing with unwanted thoughts.

“Do you like the stars?” Gojo asked, his voice disrupting the peaceful quiet. It seemed to Suguru that he was mistaken. Gojo just didn’t know how to shut the fuck up. But he, nonetheless, indulged him.

“I suppose?” Suguru answered.

“I have come to like them. Wanna know why?” Suguru really didn’t want to know why.

“Why?”

Gojo smiled slightly, “I come from the city, you see. The lights there prevented me from seeing the starry sky the way I can see it now. I mean, sure the brightest star in the sky was visible to me. But I couldn’t see the various constellations like I can, now. Like— see! There!” He pointed his index finger at the night sky with his free arm. “That’s Orion, the Hunter. Do you see it?”

Suguru squinted his eyes. He didn’t really have an interest in the stars, or the night sky, in general. So, he didn’t know what Gojo was talking about.

“The three small stars? Do you see them? They’re in a line. That’s Orion’s belt.”

And, surely enough, Suguru could see it. There were three stars aligned in the sky together, and Suguru was looking at them. “Yeah. Yeah, I see it.”

“Right? And, if you look a bit above it, those two stars are the shoulders, and that small, dim star is its head.”

“Oh, I see them!” Suguru responded, rather enthusiastically— from which he quickly recovered from. He cleared his throat, “Right. Yes.”

Gojo didn’t comment on Suguru’s behaviour, for which he was very grateful for, and continued, “Those two stars below it are its feet, and that’s its bow. The bow is my favourite part, by the way. Oh, and! Those three very closely vertically distanced stars right below its belt? That’s an extension of the belt.” Gojo was rambling by now, and Suguru was confused. But, he found it in himself to find it endearing rather than annoying.

Suguru blinked.

And blinked, once more.

Endearing? He found Gojo endearing? What? No. No, he didn’t. Gojo wasn’t endearing. Right? Well.

Suguru was stumbling over his thoughts, and he looked towards the stupid idiot at his side, who kept maundering on and on about stars, and constellations, and ‘ Oh, that’s Sirius, the Dog Star’. He looked at his messy white hair, that was voluptuous just hours ago; his eyes, that are wide with the brightest shade of blue; his full cheeks and his pink lips. Suguru took note of every small detail. He saw the small mole at the side of Gojo’s neck. He saw the way his nose bridged almost perfectly. He saw the way his neck bobbed as he spoke about the night sky. And, Suguru suddenly felt tired, and had the urge to jump off the nearest cliff.

“I have to go.” Suguru interrupted Gojo. He needed to get out of here.

“Huh? What? Why?” Gojo asked, his annoying voice growing louder.

“It’s getting late.” Suguru knew that was bullshit. But, he needed to be away from this creature besides him.

“But—“ Gojo looked at him like a wounded puppy. “But, I’m not done yet! I have to tell you about Eridanus, and Lepus, and- and so many more. You can’t just leave now?!”

“But, I can. And, I have to. My Ma is— er, she’s waiting for me. Right, yes. I have to get back.”

Gojo frowned deeply, crossing his arms, and pouting. “Whatever.” He looked at Suguru up and down, and said, “Bye. Loser.” Before turning away and leaving.

Suguru’s mouth hung open and he stared at Gojo’s back as his figure retreated. Did he just— did he just call him a loser? Suguru scoffed. Fucker. Whatever. He needed to get back, and sort out this endearing-gojo-bullshit or whatever. Suguru was hoping his father had magically gone somewhere, or had resigned himself to his room, because for the love of all that is pure, he couldn’t deal with him after this newly found fact about himself.

Suguru made his way back quickly, taking full strides, and slowly opened the door. It hadn’t been long since he barged out of the house, leaving his father to seethe in his anger, and his mother to wallow in self-pity. Fortunately for him, neither his mother, nor his father could be seen in sight— or heard, as a matter of fact, which was quite concerning, but that was something next-day-Suguru had to worry about. Suguru quietly made his way to the stairs, tip-toeing up to his room. He quickly opened the door to his sanctuary, and without changing his clothes, crept into his bed.

Right. Suguru stared at his ceiling. He was not going to think about it. He was not going to think about it. He was not— he will not think about it. Yes. He could be stubborn about it. Hm.

Suguru closed his eyes, and tried not to think about blue eyes, and white hair that obstructed his point of view, and full lips that talked about stars, and— “Oh, for fuck’s sake!”

Suguru turned his body towards the window to his right, and slammed his pillow over his ear, as if blocking out his hearing would somehow stop his thoughts. But, soon enough, his eyes made its way to the starry sky outside, and he could see the Orion constellation, causing his mind to reel back towards a tall, lanky boy with flailing arms, and— “URGH!”

Suguru pulled his body up, and took out the parchment papers from underneath his mattress, along with his charcoal pencils. And, Suguru started drawing. He was trying furiously not to think about— him. Right, he could do it. His mind went places after this. He thought about strawberries, their shape, their colour, the amount of seeds on them. He thought about what he studied in his science class earlier today. He thought about anything, and everything else. He kept drawing, until his body grew tired, and his movements became slow, his eyes shutting close.

Later that night, Suguru dreamt of big blue eyes, a small smile, and stars.