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“You’re late, Satoru. As usual.”
The smile on Suguru’s lips didn’t quite match the situation or the way Satoru felt. It wasn’t a stretched grimace or a gesture that didn’t reach his eyes. No, Suguru was smiling in earnest as if he really was just so happy to see him. As if his presence alone could make him forget about the blood oozing from where his arm should’ve been, the bruises all over his body.
He was leaning against a wall, sitting on the pavement, slumped, holding himself together with one arm, barely able to stay upright. The dark Gojo kesa wasn’t really holding in place anymore and his hair had slipped out of his bun. He looked younger than he was like that.
Behind Satoru the orange sunlight cast long shadows, the sun already sinking behind the horizon. The air itself was cool but there was no rain or clouds or really anything that seemed out of place or indicative of the state of the world. Of the state of Satoru’s heart.
Suguru was here. He was dying. Nothing should be okay. There should be no sunlight, he shouldn’t be smiling. No one should ever be happy again. He knew he wouldn’t be.
“At least I came.” He murmured quietly, not really intending for Suguru to hear it. For a moment he just stood there, looking at his best friend. When he did take a few steps to get closer he paused again. He shouldn’t. Kill him, get it over with. He chose his path. But killing him was never really an option, was it?
Satoru crouched down in front of him and observed. Taking in all those features and committing them to memory, he had time to do it, for the first time in years he could just look at Suguru. The caramel colour of his eyes, golden in the light, those ridiculous bangs in front of his face. His hair had gotten longer and Satoru caught himself wanting, yearning to run his hands through the strands. He didn’t.
“Is there nothing you have to say?”
He couldn’t stand the silence. How Suguru’s eyes seemed to wander over his face and admire every last part, how, after ten years, it was still so easy for him to make Satoru feel seen. As if he was all Suguru ever wanted to look at. It made him so unbelievably angry.
How could he do all this? Leave everything behind, leave Satoru behind. Come back and declare war as if it was perfectly fine. Sit here dying and stare at Satoru as if it’s all he’s done in the last ten years. As if nothing had changed, when really everything did. How dare he?
“Nothing you don’t know already, Satoru.”
No, not everything had changed. The same warmth seemed to cling to his tone when he spoke Satoru’s name, that gentleness as if the word meant something.
Satoru felt nauseous.
“Yeah, of course you don’t.”
When Suguru took another breath it looked painful just from where he stood, the strain was clearly visible in the lines on his face, the way his chest barely lifted. Under the robes he could just barely make out purple-ish bruising along his best friend's ribs.
“I chose my beliefs, Satoru. I never could be happy in this world, so I tried to change it. To make it a better place.” His tone was so patient, like he had no trouble explaining it, all the time in the world to do it too.
“And where did it get you? Was it worth it Suguru? Really worth it?” He was surprised at just how bitter he sounded but Satoru couldn’t bring himself to care anymore.
“I… don’t know. I know I wouldn’t have done better if I’d stayed. There was nothing keeping me at Jujutsu high.”
“Liar.”
The silence that followed was so long Satoru almost thought Suguru had died already, that maybe the last breath left his lungs and he failed to notice. But he spoke again. More a whisper than anything.
“Yeah.”
With a huff he finally sat down right next to the other man, letting his head fall back against the wall, the cool stone beneath him grounding him at least a little.
“You’re angry with me.”
“Incredibly.”
He wanted to yell, wanted to ask a hundred questions but it’d be a waste. Nothing would change, nothing could.
“You’re scared.”
It was Satoru’s turn to be silent and let the words linger in the air. Fester in his chest and eat away at his defenses, or whatever was left of them. Infinity had long dissolved, it never did work around Suguru.
“Yeah.”
He could feel the weight on his shoulder when Suguru dropped his head to rest it there. It just made it easier for Satoru to hear each rattling breath, feel the effort it took for his chest to expand. He shut his eyes, like blocking it all out might make it less true, like he could bend reality to his will, not just space.
“You know… no matter what anyone says… I’ll always hate those monkeys.”
“Don’t talk about them. Not now.” He whispered, his voice quiet and exhausted and full of sorrow.
Perhaps it was selfish, Suguru had ideals, a family to take care of, but right now, right at the end, Satoru wanted to be his only thought. That if he’d lost ten years and any chance at a future, he at least wanted all Suguru could give him now.
“You’ll take care of the girls?”
“Of course.”
His next breath seemed relieved. And so much weaker. He was slipping away and not much was still holding him here. It terrified Satoru.
But he wasn’t dying quickly either. The blood loss was slow and Suguru had always had good constitution. Right now he was just in pain.
“You’re awfully calm for someone who is angry.” The teasing edge in his voice was so painfully familiar, reminding Satoru of all those years ago, when they’d make fun of each other, when nothing could separate them, unstoppable, the strongest.
“I don’t wanna waste my words on taking it out on you.”
“Disgustingly mature of you. You could curse me at least a little at the end.”
Love really was the most twisted curse of them all.
But who was Satoru to deny him?
Reaching up he undid the bandages around his eyes, letting them fall away layer for layer, the light so bright but he could see him better now, more vibrant even as he was fading.
He tried to hide the tremble in his hand when he took hold of Suguru’s chin, softly, so careful he might’ve been handling glass, as he turned him so they’d face each other.
When their eyes met Satoru could hardly breathe. If he’d been drowning before, now he was soaring so high he was beyond air.
He didn’t dare cup his cheek or brush that strand of hair from his eyes but he could see in his expression that pain he’d hidden away, the twinge of regret he was too proud to admit to even now.
When their lips met they hardly touched. Afraid to break something fragile that had never even been acknowledged even as both of them were fully aware it had always been there. But Satoru was so tired of waiting. He did finally press closer, drinking in every second he could have, every contact filled with the years of longing for their past, the yearning that could never be fulfilled again. The what-ifs feeling so much more real because Suguru was kissing him back. He did feel the same and they could’ve had it all and-
When he tasted his own salty tears Satoru still couldn’t break away. Starved and desperate because he knew once he let go Suguru would be gone. He could feel the painful gasps and it tore him apart but he had to hold on, he could fix this.
Suguru’s one hand clutched the sleeve of his uniform, holding on so tight, like a lifeline, almost violent yet there was nothing but affection in his kiss. Satoru’s own right hand on his chest, to feel every quick heartbeat, to ensure it was still there.
He did finally dare to brush away those stupid, beautiful bangs, looking at those stupid, beautiful eyes, his left hand resting on the warm skin of his cheek. He never looked away.
Not even as a single whisper of a word tore apart his whole word.
“Purple.”