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Satoru was not impressed.
“I think I’m going to die alone,” he confessed, frowning at his screen.
Suguru rolled his eyes. “Hurry up and get to it then.”
“Fuck you,” he replied without any heat. “If you helped me I wouldn't have to.”
Suguru was sprawled on his bed, tossing a miniature basketball into the air and catching it. He had stormed into his room earlier demanding company, echoes of boredom trailing after him, before finding the toy on the floor and entertaining himself.
Intercepting the ball as it lingered mid air, Satoru tried to replace it with his phone. “It’s asking me what my intentions are.”
“No, go away,” Suguru complained, pushing the dating profile as far away as he could but Satoru was more determined.
“What do I say? Suguru help.”
Shifting onto his shoulder, his stomach smothered the bed as he buried his face in Satoru’s pillow so he didn’t have to see him. Satoru was by his feet, back against the wall, legs clenched against his chest. Seeing him move, he stretched his arm to move the phone closer to him.
Suguru mumbled, “ask Shoko.”
“I tried,” he admitted. “She told me to fuck off. Which is good because it means you can help me - your best friend! What a great opportunity, huh?”
Sighing deeply, Suguru’s shoulders sagged into the comforter, his body melting on the mattress. As the tension dissipated, he tentatively accepted the phone hovering over him and rested it on the bed, cracking open one eye to see the options.
Just like Satoru, he was not impressed.
“Just choose one, why are you stressed?” he asked, looking over to Satoru’s watchful gaze. “If you're not sure then choose one of the last two options, it's basically you anyway.”
“What are they?” He couldn't see the phone, Suguru’s back hiding it from view.. “I can't remember.”
An exasperated sigh grew in Suguru’s diaphragm, chest bulging in theatrical ire, and it hissed through his nose, eyes aflame. “You just-”
There was no reason in wasting more time so Satoru ignored him. Instead, he crawled over Suguru’s reclined body, positioning himself partly over his back, in between him and the wall, putting most of his weight on the bed. Huffing, Suguru’s face tried to look back at him but Satoru leaned on his elbow above him, forcing him to stay on his phone.
“Figuring out my dating goals sounds about right, yeah. Click on that,” he instructed.
“It’s your profile, you do it!”
“Suguru please.” He wrapped his arms around him, burrowing his face into the muscle of his shoulder, clenching the body that tried to fight out of his embrace. “You know I’m shit at these kinds of things, come on.”
Another sigh, but he relented. “Fine, but you're paying for bowling and food tonight. You're rich, you can deal.”
“Yeah, definitely.” Nodding seriously, he lifted his head and inquired in confidence, “want me to wax your shoes while I’m at it? Dumbass gold digger.”
Suguru’s gaze was successful at finding him, eyebrow raised and bored. “If you don't want my help…”
“Okay, food and bowling, I got it.” Satoru let go of him and jutted his chin to the phone. “Do I want children?”
“I don't know, do you?” Suguru asked.
He glanced at the wall where posters of movies showcased proudly. They were mostly horror, ranging from slasher films to supernatural thrillers, coupled with handmade drawings gifted by Haibara.
Beside them was his desk, clean to the point it looked unlived. Everything in his room was organised and pristine, a habit engraved into him. Kids were messy, demanding, and loud, infiltrating his space and throwing it into disarray,
He couldn't fathom raising one.
Taking his silence as indecision, Suguru chose that he didn't. “If you want to change it later you can but you're too much of a control freak to ever have a kid, now. They’d probably raise your blood pressure after shitting through their nappy and you wouldn't make it to 40.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, frowning. “Fuck them kids.”
Quietly, Suguru chuckled. “Alright. For this one, I’m gonna go ahead and diagnose you with atheism.”
A question on religious beliefs and Suguru could not have been more right. But: “how do you know? Maybe, I believe in God.”
“Remember that phase you had when you were 17 and wanted to believe in something? You spent weeks looking but nothing convinced you. I think it's safe to say you don't, but I don't know, maybe you're agnostic,” Suguru explained, shrugging awkwardly as he moved to lay on his back.
Moving backwards to give him space, Satoru recalled the memory in a weak haze; he did spend weeks researching various religions, documents and textbooks piled onto his tablet and nested in each crevice of his existence. Despite his rigorous search, the attempt was futile.
Of course, Suguru remembered, he cancelled far too many plans because of it.
“Next one,” Suguru mumbled, “okay, you're a liberal, you don't drink or smoke, and you're completely sober because it's like you're basically on drugs anyway.”
Watching intently, he saw the questions scan by, lethargic and relaxed. That was until he saw that he needed to add pictures.
“I have the perfect-”
“You're not posting your joker cosplay,” Suguru interrupted, pulling his phone out of his pocket and clicking on the gallery. “Your makeup and hair were shit. I know I have some pictures of when you dressed like Freddy. Let me see…”
Some of the pictures were of miscellaneous things: screenshots of images, Shoko dressed like a cowboy, some black screens that Suguru took by accident. But most of them were of him - them, always together and rarely apart.
Hovering around Suguru like the moon, he orbited him throughout the camera roll; there was a picture of them dressed in combat gear from when they went paintballing, a selfie from when Suguru tied his hair into ponytails and took a picture before he could argue, Suguru’s face close to the screen, eyes crinkled and teeth beaming through his grin.
There were others too, candid ones where Satoru was frowning at the people sitting next to them, glowering in disgust. Multiple captured when he was sleeping and Suguru had walked in on him, from various angles and distances. One when he was crying as they watched Kong, despairing at the screen.
“Found it,” Suguru said, enhancing the image. It was a nice picture and a lot better than his Joker cosplay. “We’ll do this one, and this one too…”
Suguru selected six in total, all of them vastly different from the others. There was a picture of him doused in water, drenched and grinning as he presented the camera with a thumbs up. Another where cake frosting streaked his face, mouth yawning in laughter, his eyes closed jubilantly. The Freddy cosplay was taken in the dark, his razor hands curling menacingly.
The last three were of him posing with a fish he caught on a fishing trip, a picture of him with Shoko when they dressed as pirates, and one of him and Suguru, the two of them hunched over a chess board, eyes alight with their respective competitive streaks.
“Well,” he said, when the pictures were uploaded. “You just saved me a shit tonne of time.”
Distractedly, Suguru said, “you’re welcome. Now.” The next page offered three tabs for them to choose a prompt and answer. “There’s headings at the top, choose one.”
Reaching over Suguru’s chest, he rested his arm on his body and moved the options around, contemplative. “Let's check storytime first.”
Getting comfortable, Suguru rolled his head on top of Satoru's, pushing Satoru further onto the bed, and that should have been a sign but he was never good at inference. Blanketing Suguru with his chest, tossing a leg over his waist and peering at the screen from his best friend's chin, he read the options.
“Comfortable?”
Grinning, he nodded. “Very.”
Satoru could feel Suguru’s steadfast heart, following his constricting diaphragm as it rose and fell, so close to his soul he could hear blood rushing through his body. Softly trembling, Suguru laughed, throwing an arm around him so they engulfed one another.
“I’m thinking two truths and one lie,” Suguru decided. “The truth can be… You’re a good dancer, you have IBS, and the lie is obviously your first crush was Megan Fox.”
“I can’t dance,” he stated, then added, “and who was it? Jessica Alba?”
Suguru’s gaze was sharp when it dropped down to him. Looking up, Satoru rolled his eyes.
“You took ballet lessons from 4 to 13, I’ve seen the recording of you in Swan Lake.” Oh, he did. He was . “And it was Reed Richards, you apparently had a thing for older men.”
“Recording? What recording?” he demanded, pushing himself so he could stare Suguru down. “How did you manage to get your hands on it?”
“Satoruuuu,” Suguru groaned. “Can we just-”
“No, tell me.”
Sighing, Suguru retrieved his phone once more and went to his files. As he scrolled through them, he explained, “you had your wisdom tooth removed and were adamant that you can perform a pirouette. And, don’t get me wrong, you did, but I thought you were going to fall and crack your head open. After that we watched you in Swan Lake and you started crying because you missed performing.”
Finding the document, Suguru selected it and the video played immediately, the camera shaking. In the background, Satoru could hear himself whining, declaring he was a prodigy but was sabotaged. Undeterred, the camera recorded a video playing on the TV, the picture grainy indicative of its age.
A young Satoru appeared before them, his everwhite hair slicked back, blue eyes piercing in the calmness of his expression. Watching himself spin and jump, supporting his co-star as she soared into his grip, rising like a phoenix, they twirled as Satoru spun on his feet.
“Fuck, I was good,” he breathed, mesmerised by the performance.
Nodding, Suguru agreed, “yeah. I couldn’t convince you to get back into it then but maybe now? Would be a shame to let all that talent go to waste.”
“Maybe,” he conceded. “One thing at a time for now.”
“Yeah.”
Suguru was dutiful in writing the answers before choosing the next one. They decided on describing Satoru’s simple pleasures, which were outlined in ink.
“You love waking up early so you can have time to yourself,” said Suguru. Simultaneously, Satoru stated, “reading.”
“What? You hate reading, that's why you listen to audiobooks!”
“Yeah, but that's not as attractive as reading,” he explained, rolling his eyes.
Suguru nudged him with his legs, knee colliding with his in terrifying precision. “There's nothing attractive about you full stop. Now, give me a real answer or I’m writing down my own.”
Truth was, Satoru loved early mornings and late nights; when dawn blinked to life, his eyes responded in unison. Appreciating the quiet darkness of night, and the chirping light of morning became a habit, something he indulged in for comfort.
Insomnia had plagued him since he was a child, the inability to sleep was incurable and as was his hatred for sedation. There were times he succumbed to the madness of sleep deprivation, slinking into a hole like a wounded animal, waiting for death to silence his sickness. But there was always someone to join him, the person's body rumbling softly beneath him now.
Sighing, he nodded. “Just put down the damn morning.”
Satoru could feel the grin on Suguru’s face, his palm itching to smother it. But they had to complete his dating profile, losing his only help could cost him the rest of his life.
“Oh, what's this?” Beneath the ‘voice-first’ heading was a prompt for Suguru to describe why anyone should date him. Grinning, he looked up at him, batting his eyelids. “Come on Suguru, tell the world how sensual and seductive your best friend is.”
Ignoring him, Suguru started typing and words manifested on the screen. Reading them as they appeared, Satoru felt his smile dim and eyes deflate.
“Satoru is a goddamn fool. He snorts when he laughs, and his punches hurt too much for something that should be playful. His eyes look into your soul but the idiot is illiterate and can't read what it says. He’s a good man - a great man even; he’ll push the trolley into someone who was rude to you, pay for your food when you go bowling, he'll piss you off but make it up for it by reminding you why you like him in the first place, even if he himself doesn't realise it. He’s just got the type of smile to make you forget why you're angry.”
“Wow,” he mumbled. “If we ignore the first half, that's…kinda gay, Suguru. You trying to tell me something?”
The phone fell onto his head, smashing against his skull painfully. Yelping, Satoru’s hand slammed against Suguru’s chest, the sound echoing in the room.
“That hurt, you dickhead!”
Glaring at him, Suguru replied, “good, here’s hoping it knocked some sense into you.”
“Sense? Into me? I’m not the one who just wrote a - what is this? A love confession? The fuck,” retorted Satoru, sitting up and holding Suguru, refusing to let him mirror him. “Were you even going to tell me? Is it true? What the hell man.”
“Why would I if you don't feel the same way?” The question was earnest, teasing that the answer should be self-evident.
“I danced for you!” Satoru exclaimed. “You're wearing your day clothes in my bed - hell, I ask you out every friday! What do you mean?”
“As friends,” Suguru insisted.
There was a light blush on Suguru's cheeks, his eyes averted to stare at the suddenly interesting wall. It was clear that he felt embarrassed, from the way his hand went slack and dropped from Satoru, to his body language that began to shut off.
Satoru groaned. “Because I never entertained the idea that we could be more. You know that I’m stupid, I need shit spelled out for me.”
Indignant, Suguru continued, “well - I don't know so shut up. That's not my problem. You should know better, I’m your best friend.”
“Exactly.” He raised an eyebrow, hand cupping Suguru's chin and directing his face back to his own. Decisively, he echoed, “I'm your best friend, so you should know better too. Not help me create a dating profile that I don't even need.” Letting a smile grow on his lips, he squeezed Suguru's chin softly. “But I’ll forgive you for this anyway, we have a date tonight and I need to paint your nails before we go.”
Suspicious, Suguru slowly retracted his fingers to hide them, shaking his head. “Date? Nails?”
“Yes, a date, like the ones we go on every friday. Those dates.” Satoru reached for Suguru’s hands, trying to free them from the shackles of Suguru’s armpits. “Stop being difficult, let me see.”
“No. If it's a date then I want you to woo me.” He shook his head, smiling softly, refusing to budge as Satoru squirmed on top of him. “Paint your own fucking nails and style your goddamn hair.”
“As my boyfriend you should accept me the way I am,” Satoru countered. Throwing his body over Suguru, he sat on his stomach. “But also do what I say to make me happy.”
A bewildered expression collapsed the smile on Suguru’s face, his voice gentle. “Boyfriend?”
Was it possible Satoru had misread the conversation, striving for more than what was offered? Or had he taken something, mistaking Suguru’s feelings- his intentions, colouring his words for himself? Sheepish, Satoru let go of Suguru’s shoulders, nodding his head.
“If you want? Or would like? Uh.” He slowly started to back away. “Did I fuck something up? Was there something for me to fuck up?”
Before he could slide off Suguru entirely, fierce fingers clasped around his wrists, tugging him in desperation and he fell. Stumbled from the force, face burrowing into Suguru’s chest, arms snaking around his waist and shoulders, holding him protectively.
“You’re not going anywhere, Gojo,” Suguru mumbled into his hair, lips smothered against his scalp. “You’d be a shit boyfriend if you did.”
“Yeah?” he asked, his voice helplessly adoring.
“Yeah. You’re finally mine and already trying to run away?” Suguru rolled them over, his body blanketing Satoru. “Atleast give it 50 years.”
Grinning, Satoru thought it over and decided 50 sounded far too small but it was a good minimum.