Archive of Our Own

Satoru watches Suguru with a quiet ache and longing—how he smiles so warmly that makes his eyes disappear, the way his laughter spills effortlessly, and the way he slowly turns his back, abandoning everything, including Satoru himself. Each time Suguru walks away, it feels like a small fracture in Satoru’s world, a silent erasure of the bond they once shared. A love left unanswered. The longer Satoru watches him from a distance, the more Suguru fades, stepping onto a path where Satoru no longer exists—where he is nothing but a ghost of Suguru’s past. Or at least, that’s what Suguru wants him to believe for it to hurt less. 

No matter how many times they've been reborn, the same thing always happens. 

But does Suguru remember? Does he carry the weight of their shared moments, the tenderness, the promises whispered in the dawn? If he does, then why does he keep making the same choice? What invisible chains or unbearable truths push him away, again and again? What were the reasons that's weighty enough for him to leave? Suguru's absence was like a candle flickering out that Satoru tries to fume, the warmth of love from the past engulfed by the shadows that swallowed Satoru's light. 

Every departure seems more effortless and honed, as though Suguru's heart is learning to harden to be able to let go less painfully. Yet underneath that increasing numbness is a thick veil of guilt—an unsaid burden that weighs on him like a black cloud. In the lonely moments in between their meetings, Satoru ponders whether Suguru's withdrawal is a desperate act of love warped by remorse, dread, and the crushing weight of courtesy rather than merely a silent scream. Suguru's guilt is a trail of footprints that he cannot remove, a disease that has no cure. 

Their very different worldviews create a rift between them that cannot be mended by love. Two souls tied by history but doomed to live a life in the absence of one another. 

To shield Satoru from the abyss he alone must face, Suguru leaves with no intent to taint his humanity, binding him into the emotional hellhole. Each step they take is like a sinking boat pulling them both more and further into the ocean of sorrow and loss. 

Love is the most twisted curse. 

How many years would it take for Suguru to look back at him at least once as he walks away from Satoru? How many more years should Satoru wait for Suguru to stay? 

But what if, in another universe, Satoru was the one who left? 

The choice that always leaves Satoru's world crumbling down—the choice that steals his breath and leaves him gasping in a void of grief. Mourning over someone who was alive, whom he held so close, so tenderly, that in holding him one last time, he knowingly crushed the very life from him.

Suguru's eyes now follow the receding figure, his heartbeat slowly unwinding with each stride. With each pulse, his soul collapses, a dying ember sucked up by the chilly night. The enmity thaws his veins like a thousand winters. Suguru watches Satoru become an enigmatic shadow that slips through his grasp, a waning echo of a love that was too brittle to contain.

With all that is spoken and undone, the stillness between them is a wound that bleeds in silent desperation. And in that painful emptiness hums the cruelest truth—a love so intense that it sometimes calls for the intolerable cost of leaving.

Satoru doesn’t remember—at least, not clearly—but everything feels hauntingly familiar, as if a sudden shift has rippled through his very core. Maybe he’s simply grown weary of waiting. Waiting for Suguru to choose him, to run to him with the same fierce devotion. Yet his eyes betrayed him, his heart; instead of looking forward, they linger on the past, and in that backward glance, his soul nearly withers. Nauseating. 

How could he do this? 

He almost begs the Saints in a silent whisper—Let me walk away. Let me stop running toward a love that burns me alive. Stop reminding me of the warmth. Because the man he loves most, the one who once unraveled every layer of his heart, learned not only how to know him, but how to wound him with precision. The love that once offered salvation now feels like a slow, heartless unraveling, and the bitter irony is intolerable. 

Is this how it felt like, Suguru? 

Was it like this for you, too? 

In his mind, the question lingers—how many lifetimes must they live, how many times must their souls be torn apart and stitched back together, before fate finally weaves their paths into one? Is it truly hard to live beside each other, that every time they meet, one ends up leaving with one forced to watch? How long can two hearts endure this endless cycle of longing and loss, this cruel dance of near-touch and retreat?

Beneath the ache, a sense of hope lits—maybe, just maybe, the waiting will end, and the silence between them will break into a shared breath, a single pulse under the mercy of Venus. Until then, they'll keep on hoping. Love doesn't always have to hurt, do they? It doesn't have to be painful to know that you're in love, that you're capable of loving. 

When will the universe create a world where one of them doesn't have to leave someone behind who will spend the rest of their life waiting for a return that may never come? Maybe one day, the stars will align just right, and the trajectory will end—not with a goodbye, but with a forever.

How many lifetimes must Satoru and Suguru live through before their souls finally find peace in each other’s arms? No fighting. No leaving. No waiting. When will the dreams they promised in the quiet of the night bloom into a reality where they stand side by side, unbroken and whole? How long must the heart endure the unbearable pause—the sharp sting of memory that cuts deeper with every breath? How tightly must the hand grip its own trembling flesh, bleeding in silent desperation, yearning to be held at last?

How many lifetimes more must pass before love is no longer a dream but their living truth?

   ˖⁺‧₊˚ 𐚁ᥫ᭡. ˚₊‧⁺˖

There was a creation of another universe, and though their fate was already written by the stars, there's no telling that the sky believes so. Little did they know, they had already crossed paths, completely unaware of each other's existence in this world. Perhaps the cosmos has a purpose in mind for them. And that went on until they were both twenty-four. 

Spring is approaching soon. 

Suguru stopped by a food stall, craving something simple after days of rotting inside his cramped apartment. Work had consumed him lately, leaving little room for anything else—he barely remembered what the crepes in front of him even tasted like. But before he could utter to buy the remaining piece, the vendor handed it to the man beside him, a stranger Suguru failed to acknowledge in the sweltering heat.

Just great, wow! 

Suguru bit the insides of his cheeks to cool himself down, then his eyes immediately found the man’s, and the stranger mirrored his gaze with a quiet, almost knowing look. There was something hauntingly familiar about him—Suguru could swear he had seen that face somewhere before. The white hair and a pair of rectangular spectacles that hid the man’s eyes, and yet, it was precisely that concealment that unsettled Suguru, stirring a strange, aching nostalgia deep within.

Weird. 

Satoru, on the other hand, let out a shaky gasp. There was something about this man—he felt like he’d seen him before, he can't remember when and it irked him because he has a great memory, but more than that, an inexplicable pull, a deep connection that begged to be explored. 

And, if he was being honest with himself, the guy was absolutely his type: broad and huge, sun-kissed skin, long hair flowing like a wild river—hot and undeniably handsome. Okay, maybe that was a little too specific. Maybe today was the day he had find out what his type in men is.

"Bangs.” Satoru blurted out, breaking the silence that had stretched between them like an eternity.

"What?" Suguru blinked, didn't fully registered what was said. A sudden lightheadedness washed over him, one he wasn’t expecting. Must be the heat, he told himself.

Suguru closed his eyes for a second to collect himself; he can't stare at Satoru for too long, or else, he could feel his grip on sanity slipping. Was it irritation? Confusion? Or something else entirely?

One thing was clear, this man was utterly mesmerizing. What was he made of, anyway? Crystals? Holy spirits? Or just something beautifully, maddeningly banal?

Is he even real? 

The moment Suguru opened his eyes, Satoru was already holding out the crepes he’d been eyeing, a mouthful of food still stuffed between his lips. Suguru’s face twisted into a petty expression, prompting the stranger to mimic him with a teasing smirk—one that quickly melted into an irresistible, radiant smile. Suguru usually refused such offers, but the warmth in Satoru’s beam was contagious—like sunlight streaming through the leaves, almost blinding him.

"You shouldn't comment on people's appearance, you know? Especially if you don't know them," Suguru chided, biting back a smile. He would've slapped himself if it doesn't mean he'll be embarrassing himself in front of the beautiful stranger. 

Stupid stranger, he corrected himself, clicking his tongue in mock annoyance. 

"Hey! I didn't mean it like that!" Satoru shot back, his tone half-offended as he chewed. Suguru responded with a disapproving blink, silently warning him. This time, Satoru made sure to swallow before speaking again. “I was just pointing it out since…” His gaze flickered over Suguru’s face, and he bit his inner cheek, voice dropping to a shy, almost coy whisper.

“I don't know. Looks weird, good- ugh whatever.” He shrugged smugly and tried to look elsewhere but Suguru. "It's not like you're the only one with bangs, I have them too!" He pointed at his hair with a silly grin, messing with it a little bit.

Suguru said nothing. Instead, he snatched the offered food from Satoru's hand and headed towards the nearest bench under the tree, settling down with a sigh. Satoru trailed behind him, babbling gibberish, and Suguru couldn't help but snicker in fascination. 

Maybe it was rude of him to act like that, he thought. 

“Here, I guess we can share. Stop pouting, you look like a cat.” Satoru's eyes lit up and felt his mouth water. 

Suguru arched an eyebrow at him silently and paid him no attention. 

Okay, he was lying. 

He was paying attention. 

He just wouldn't admit it. 

“I guess you do have a heart after all. Don’t waste your beauty.” Satoru commented, feeling comfortable as he flicked Suguru’s loose bangs. 

Suguru’s eyes narrowed, a smirk tugging at his lips. “What does my appearance have to do with this?” He shot back, flicking Satoru’s forehead in return. The sharp hiss he let out softened quickly into a genuine laugh, the awkward tension etween them easing. 

“I'm beautiful by any means but not everyone likes me for my personality. Honestly speaking, I don't really care. I'm just being me! What's up with that? I don't get them.” He chattered, then scanned Suguru's face. “But you?”

“Yeah? What about me?”

“Your voice doesn't suit your personality, just saying.” Satoru smirked, cocky—but clearly bluffing. 

Suguru paused and pressed his lips in a tight line, amused. “We just met.”

“Really?”

“Really.” 

They held each other’s gaze, the air thick with unspoken challenge. Then, Satoru’s laugh broke the silence—light, genuine, and teasing.

“Well, if my voice doesn’t suit me, maybe you should stick around and see what else doesn’t,” Suguru leaned on the backrest, entertained. 

Satoru bit his lip, shaking his head. “I’ll start thinking you’re trying to charm me.” 

“Maybe I am.” Suguru replied, eyes sparkling with mischief and teasing. 

Suguru laughed, the sound low and warm. “We just met.”

On that they, they became part of each other's lives. It was no longer mere coincidence that they kept running into each other. Satoru found himself wondering—was it chance, or something deeper? The way Suguru appeared in the same place, almost at the same time, made him question if Suguru was deliberately seeking him out. 

One time, he jokingly accused him of stalking him but Suguru simply denied it. 

Yet when he thought about it, Suguru’s denial felt sincere—months spent buried in work, disconnected from the world, barely stepping outside. He feels bad for the man. 

Perhaps, in their own separate silences, they were both drawn by the same unspoken hope—an unconscious yearning to cross paths again, to find in each other a fragment of something missing.

Conversations with Satoru weren't something Suguru anticipated to be easy. Most of their exchanges were playful banter—Satoru the main instigator, delighting in provoking Suguru, who, stubborn as ever, refused to back down. Sometimes their teasing spiraled into arguments, but could they really resist not talking to each other? No. It was simply the way things were between them—a dance of friction and connection, like learning how to live and exist alongside one another.

Meanwhile, Suguru found himself doing things without thinking like it's a natural thing for him to do—buying Satoru his sweets, holding doors open for him, holding his hand in crowded places to keep them from drifting apart, driving him through the quiet hours of the night until dawn, cuddling him him anytime and anywhere. Hell, they even sleep together in the same bed more than once. Each small act made him realize just how much he liked looking after Satoru, especially since Satoru lets him. 

Caring for Satoru isn’t merely a gesture. Suguru discovered a truth as profound as it was simple: to look after someone who lets you is to find a home within their heart, a place where love quietly blooms and trust that guards it. 

At first, it felt strange—an echo of familiarity that stirred doubts deep within, as if their souls had danced together long before their bodies met. 

What is it that binds them together? Could their hearts truly beat to the same rhythm? It is as if the universe has etched their names into the same star. 

Thus, they proceed, ensnared in the exquisite enigma of entwined souls, seeking significance in the common pulse of their hearts, with the hope that one day the riddle will be solved and they will realize what it is that ties them together so strongly.

Was it fate? Love? 

Or was it blood? 

˖⁺‧₊˚ 𐚁ᥫ᭡. ˚₊‧⁺˖

Two years have already passed, and this year, they're facing the summer heat of July. Satoru found himself caught in a wave of memory. The sticky air, the golden sunlight filtering through the leaves—all of it pulled him back to that very first day he met Suguru. 

He couldn’t help but chuckle softly, the sound mingling with the distant buzz of summer life. That moment felt both distant and vivid, like a scene painted in warm hues—Suguru’s unexpected presence, the awkward yet electric exchange, the way time seemed to slow just enough for their worlds to collide.

Now, as the heat pressed down around them once more, Satoru realized how much had changed—and yet, how much remained the same. 

And in that warmth, amid the perspiration and the commotion, Satoru quietly felt thankful for the fortuitous meeting that had developed into something they both came to treasure. 

He walked toward Suguru, a plastic bag filled with popsicles of various flavors swinging lightly in his hand, a small peace offering against the relentless heat. But the cheeky smile that usually played on Satoru’s lips faltered the moment he saw Suguru. His breath caught, sharp and sudden, as if someone had squeezed his chest. His ears rang faintly, and a strange, familiar sensation washed over him—déjà vu?

"Satoru." 

Huh? 

The single word, spoken softly but clearly, snapped him back. His pulse slowed, returning to its unusual, steady rhythm. Yet his eyes stung, welling with tears he couldn’t explain. Why did the sight of Suguru unsettle him so deeply? What was happening? He is so confused. Conflicted. 

"Don't go,'' Suguru’s voice was fragile, barely above a whisper, and his face betrayed a weariness that tugged at Satoru’s heart.

He sounds… vulnerable. 

“I had a dream… you were in it. And it felt so real that I almost thought It was a memory.” Suguru chuckled bitterly and shook his head, placing his thumb between his brows, a mannerism. 

“You left me, Satoru.”

There was a melancholic weight in his tone, laced with a faint, disbelieving smile. Satoru struggled to read the emotions behind those words—pain, longing, confusion, or something else entirely? Despite his usual difficulty with intimacy and expressing feelings, he focused intently, determined to understand. After all, he was a doctor—he knew how to listen, how to learn.

For Suguru, he would try.

“We had a fight. And you chose to be somewhere I have no place to be with you. Sure, I can walk through the streets all I want, but I won't be able to find you cause there's no longer you.”

Since when did he start using big words? What is he talking about? What the fuck? 

But deep inside, Satoru felt it too—a quiet truth tangled in confusion. He sensed that Suguru knew exactly what he meant, even if the meaning slipped just beyond his own grasp. The uncertainty twisted inside him, raw and aching.

“You're not dead but your ghost haunts me,” He exhaled sharply, chuckling bitterly, “It was your soul, wasn't it?” Suguru snapped his gaze at him, then faltered. 

Satoru remained silent, but he knew. He knew that his soul would always lurk because it would always search for Suguru even if he hadn't met him at all. His soul had fallen hopelessly, irrevocably in love with Suguru long before he had ever realized it himself.

“What made you look back at me, only to keep walking away?” Suguru’s fingers ran through his hair in frustration, pain flickering across his face.

“I don’t understand, Toru.” His voice cracked with hurt and longing, as if he had hoped that the moment their eyes met, Satoru would come running back. But he didn’t. 

Satoru contemplated whether he should say something and what he should be saying at this moment—or if some things were simply beyond explanation.

“I-I didn’t leave you,” Satoru stammered, voice a little too light, trying to cut through the suffocating weight of the moment. “I just went to buy us some snacks, Sugu… I’m right here.”

“I know,” Suguru replied softly, barely meeting his gaze.

How long was he out? Satoru wondered, confused. He didn’t remember leaving Suguru looking like this—so withdrawn, so heavy with something unspoken. Was his dreams too real to believe? They had been playful just moments ago, yet Suguru now looked like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

The past few weeks came rushing back—Suguru isolating himself, refusing to go out unless Satoru persuaded or practically dragged him along. He didn’t look like himself; exhaustion etched deep lines under his eyes, and dark circles betrayed restless nights. His hair was tangled, left unkempt unless Satoru took it upon himself to brush it with care. Sometimes, strands of Suguru’s hair clung to the comb—odd for someone usually so meticulous.

Satoru knew it was more than just stress. He had asked Suguru when he first noticed but he told him he was fine, and he believed him because he trusts him. 

He stepped closer to Suguru, who couldn't look at him since he’d arrived. Setting the plastic bag down quietly, Satoru wrapped his arms around him, cautious at first, then surrendering to the need for closeness. The fallout could wait.

Suguru stayed still in Satoru’s embrace, neither pushing him away nor pulling closer. The warmth was pleasant, a quiet sweetness that soothed the sharp edges of his restless mind—even if a bitter taste lingered somewhere deep inside. He closed his eyes, letting himself simply be, breathing in Satoru’s scent, which felt like a gentle pat on the back, a silent reassurance.

“What’s wrong, Suguru?” Satoru asked softly, worried threading through his voice. He hoped he wasn’t pushing too far, but the familiarity of the moment made his heart race with a quiet fear of what might come next.

“It’s just the summer heat,” Suguru replied, his voice low and guarded.

But the moment those words left his lips, both their hearts seemed to drop, their lungs tightening, giving them a hard time to breathe. 

Satoru gently withdrew from the hug and placed both hands on the sides of Suguru’s shoulders, searching his face for any sign of the truth. Yet Suguru still refused to meet his gaze.

“I’m fine. You don’t have to look down on me,” Suguru said, voice edged with stubbornness.

“You’re not. And neither am I. Don’t say that… please… don’t,” Satoru pleaded, his voice cracking with raw emotion.

Silence stretched between them.

“Suguru,” Satoru’s voice broke, fragile and trembling. That was enough to finally draw Suguru’s eyes to his. “I’m not too late, am I?” There was a desperate hope in his furrowed brows and forced smile—as if begging for forgiveness, for a chance to make things right.

Silence. 

Fuck. 

Say something. 

Suguru gave him a faint smile, and Satoru's eyes became a sea of tears. ”I must've done you wrong in our past lives that's why It's catching up on me.”

Don't talk like that… 

Don't act like you're saying goodbye… 

Don't act like this would be my last morning waking up with us tangled in your bed. 

Don't act like last night would be the last time I will feel your warmth and embrace as I watch you sleep. 

Don't tell me that this is the last time I'll see you.. 

Don't. 

“Don’t die on me, you bastard!” Satoru’s voice cracked as he rambled, desperation spilling over. “You’re my best friend. We’re supposed to be together every season. You’re the only one who can stand me. You’re my responsibility.”

His words made Suguru chuckle softly, a fragile sound breaking through the heaviness.

“I should die in your hands, not from this,” Suguru tried to joke, half-meaning it.

He believed he had already seen heaven, Satoru—before his heart even began to falter. But while Suguru seemed calm and accepting, Satoru was anything but that. His eyes widened upon seeing Satoru sob, clutching Suguru’s shoulders, the pain seeping through every trembling breath. Suguru’s head hung low, but it was Satoru’s cries that cut deepest, wounding him in ways words never could.

“D-Don’t say that...” Satoru shook his head, looking up with tear-streaked eyes, already on his knees as if pleading with the heavens. “You’re my one and only... I can’t... Suguru! Don't leave me.”

Don't… 

Suguru was too tired to argue—the popsicles were probably melting by now, forgotten in the heat of the moment. He lifted his hand slowly and caressed Satoru’s head with a tenderness that spoke volumes, as if Satoru was the most precious thing that had ever happened to him.

How could he vaguely remember this same moment from some distant memory, yet feel it so different now? The ache in his chest grew sharper, and tears welled up unbidden. Maybe, just maybe, this time he would let himself accept help—even if it meant admitting he wasn’t as strong as he always believed.

“I would never leave you, Suguru,” Satoru whispered, his words a quiet confession that settled deep within Suguru’s heart. “So please... don't. I will die.”

With that, Suguru pulled Satoru into a hug, his vulnerability laid bare in the safety of the embrace.

“I’m here,” Satoru assured him softly, and Suguru nodded, the weight of those simple words grounding him. “You don’t have to go through it alone.”

Thank you, Suguru wanted to say, but the words caught in his throat. Instead, he leaned into Satoru’s touch, melting willingly. Slowly, the walls he had built around himself began to crumble, brick by brick, as he let Satoru in.

“You’re not pranking me, are you?” Satoru asked softly, his breath warm and tickling against Suguru’s neck as he hiccupped through his tears.

“I’m not, but thanks for the idea,” Suguru murmured, a small chuckle escaping him as he felt Satoru’s pout press gently against his skin. He sighed, lifting a hand to pat Satoru’s head with quiet tenderness.

Suguru was wilting, and Satoru wasn’t blind to it.

At first, he thought Suguru’s odd behavior was just a passing mood, something fleeting. But as the days passed by, it became clear it was more than that. Satoru had taken him out countless times, hoping to lift his spirits. There was progress—brief, fragile moments of light—but inevitably, Suguru would retreat back into that somber place. Finding sanctuary in isolation as it ruins him. 

So now, Satoru kept a careful watch from a distance, respecting Suguru’s need for solitude but never letting him face it alone. Sometimes, he simply accompanied him in silence, a steady presence in the quiet.

This moment seemed to heal the lingering wounds of the past—or did it merely mask them, waiting quietly beneath the surface to resurface again?

˖⁺‧₊˚ 𐚁ᥫ᭡. ˚₊‧⁺˖

Three months had passed, and Suguru was showing signs of steady progress. He attended his therapy sessions diligently, balancing the demands of work alongside his healing journey. Through it all, Satoru had been by his side every step of the way—an unwavering presence that brought comfort and strength.

Today, however, Satoru couldn’t accompany him; a patient needed his attention. Suguru would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little upset. He missed Satoru’s quiet support, the way his presence seemed to steady the storm inside him. Still, he understood—he was proud of how far he’d come, and he knew Satoru was with him in spirit, even from a distance. 

Still, the episodes don’t simply disappear—they happen, gnawing at him from within. It eats him alive in ways he can’t always control. But that’s part of the journey. Some days are darker, heavier, when the weight feels unbearable. Other days, the light breaks through, and things get better, allowing him to breathe. 

Suguru reached into his pocket and dialed Satoru’s number, the familiar weight of his phone grounding him amidst the bustling streets of Shinjuku. In his other hand, a paper bag crinkled softly, filled with sweets carefully chosen for them to share on christmas eve.

The moment the call connected, Satoru’s voice came through, teasing and bright, “Miss me already, pookie wookie?”

A smile tugged at Suguru’s lips despite the tiredness in his bones. The city buzzed around him, but for a moment, it felt like it was just the two of them—connected by laughter, sweetness, and the quiet anticipation of the night to come.

This little shit. 

He scoffed, "I don't; my day was less annoying, thanks to your patient."

"Awh, don't tell me you're jealous, pookie wookie.” Satoru teased, probably wiggling his brows. The ridiculous nickname made Suguru roll his eyes, but he smiled nonetheless. So stupid.

"C’mon, no need to be shy! I know you miss my beautiful face; I miss yours too!" Suguru chuckled at his remark, unable to mask the fondness he has for him. 

“Yeah, yeah. I know you do, sweetheart.” Satoru’s giggles were halted, his voice momentarily silenced—he secretly loves it when Suguru called him that, even if it caught him off guard every time he did. Suguru knows, of course. 

“Fuck you.”

“Later, ‘Toru.”

“And they say that I’m the one who’s annoying.” Satoru rolled his eyes. 

Suddenly, something abruptly landed on his nose. He looked up to discover that it was snowing unexpectedly.

"Toru, look outside," He gently said, cutting Satoru off from blabbering. 

"Oh, it's snowing!" Suguru smiled with a faint blush on his cheeks, hearing Satoru's enthusiastic tone. 

"Why don't you find some insects to talk to, snow white?” 

"I see what you did there, Sugu. Do you want to kiss me so bad? Are you going to poison me and kiss me under the mistletoe?" Satoru blew a kiss through the call, and Suguru made a disgusted sound just to agitate him. 

He doesn't need poisoning, he needs courage to actually kiss him and not just fantasize about it. 

It’s December 24th, Suguru recalls, the memory unfolding like a gentle snowfall in his mind. Last year, he and Satoru had tackled each other on the snowy ground like a pair of fools, laughing as snowballs flew back and forth. They even tried to build an igloo together, only for it to collapse the moment they crawled inside. It was a silly, joyful moment—one he treasured deeply.

Now, as snowflakes drift softly down and settle on his outstretched palm, Suguru can’t help but think of Satoru. The delicate flakes remind him of his person. He’s quietly grateful that he allowed himself to be helped when his own ruins threatened to consume him. And when he gets home, he knows there’s one person he’ll thank above all—Satoru.

"What time will you be back home?" he asked, halting his stroll to take in the beauty of the snow. 

"I'll be back by 7 p.m. I just need to finalize some papers. Don't worry, I don't have any homewrecker; you're the only one, Sugu.” 

“Might lock you in the basement if you do.”

“Is that a kink? a fetish? a fantasy?”

“What the fuck- No! Unless... you're into that?” Siguru retorted. 

"That's freaky, dude." Satoru coughed, choking on his own saliva. Suguru could only laugh. 

Suguru often found himself questioning the nature of his relationship with Satoru. What exactly was he to Satoru? And what were they to each other? Though the question lingered unspoken between them, Suguru was certain they were more than just best friends. They play around and tread each other like lovers, yet they weren’t even dating.

Will it cost their friendship if they talk about it?

He took a turn, walking a few more steps before stopping abruptly at a familiar street—one that stirred something deep inside him.

His breath hitched, then quickened uncontrollably. The world around him blurred, sounds melting into a haze. He searched desperately for Satoru’s voice, but it was nowhere to be found. All he could hear was the frantic pounding of his own heart. He tried to speak, to call out, but the words caught in his throat. Surrounded by the crowd, he felt utterly alone.

Meanwhile, Satoru tilted his head, watching the snow drift lazily outside the window. His brows furrowed as the only sounds he heard through the call were murmurs from passing strangers and the distant hum of traffic.

˖⁺‧₊˚ 𐚁ᥫ᭡. ˚₊‧⁺˖

Where is Suguru?

Did he hang up but forget to end the call??

“Yo, Suguru! Are you still there?!” Satoru’s voice cracked as he raised it, desperation bleeding through every word. But silence answered him—no reply, no breath, nothing.

His eyes darted wildly, and for reasons he couldn’t grasp, they landed on the calendar pinned to the wall. The date stabbed at him like a cold blade: December 24th.

A cold sweat broke out across his skin. His breath hitched, then stumbled into ragged gasps, uneven and shallow.

“Where are you?!” Panic clawed its way up his throat, his voice trembling, raw and urgent. His fingers tightened around the phone until his nails bit into his palm, the world narrowing to the unbearable weight of not knowing.

Time seemed to stretch, the noise of the busy street outside fading into a distant hum as dread wrapped around him like a suffocating fog.

Suguru collapsed to his knees, his head hanging low as tears streamed freely down his face. His eyes fixed on his clenched fist and the tear-streaked ground beneath him—exhibiting desperate will to live. His throat tightened painfully, dry and raw, and his breaths came in ragged gasps

He still needed to share the sweets he’d bought with Satoru.

He still needed to thank him properly.

He still needed to get better.

He wants to be with Satoru.

He still...

Despite his body trembling uncontrollably, Suguru summoned every ounce of strength to lift his phone. His fingers trembled as he pressed it to his ear, determined to speak to the man waiting on the other end.

“Satoru.” His voice wavered, fragile but filled with a quiet resolve. Saying his name always felt like coming home—a lifeline for his soul, a promise it wouldn’t forget. The words he longed to say—I like you—remained unspoken, held back by fear and uncertainty just like saying that he loves him more than the world could offer. 

Instead, he whispered, “Save me.” 

The metallic tang of anxiety coated his tongue as he struggled to steady his voice.

Satoru’s pupils widened as Suguru’s voice finally broke through the silence—fragile, trembling, but alive. His heart skipped a beat, a sharp ache blossoming in his chest, but he swallowed the fear and steadied himself. Suguru needed him now more than ever.

“I’ll be there, Suguru. Please hold on,” He uttered, desperation thick in every syllable. His fingers trembled as he fumbled to get Suguru’s location, then immediately called for an ambulance, his voice urgent and shaky.

No.

No.

No.

No.

No.

NO!

Suguru-

Please… 

You can't leave me, Suguru

Not now. Not ever. 

Were the words Satoru pleaded. Beside him, Shoko’s hand pressed firmly against his knee, a steady anchor in the storm. Her eyes met his, filled with quiet resolve.

“If you wish to save him, you have to pull yourself together, Satoru,” she said softly but firmly.

He nodded, wiping away the tears that blurred his vision. He had to be strong—for Suguru, for both of them.

Shoko gave herself a small, reassuring pat on the back, but inside, her heart ached. The thought of losing Suguru was unbearable, and she feared what would become of Satoru if that happened. He would follow Suguru anywhere—even into the darkness.

The last thing Satoru remembered was clutching Suguru’s hand tightly against his chest in the ambulance, to fight, to stay—as they gave him oxygen. 

And the last thing Suguru felt was the gentle, tender press of Satoru’s lips against the back of his hand—a silent promise of love and hope—before everything faded to black.

˖⁺‧₊˚ 𐚁ᥫ᭡. ˚₊‧⁺˖

Satoru fought back the tears threatening to fall as he performed chest compressions on Suguru, whose pulse was rapidly fading. Every beat slipping away felt like a weight pressing down on Satoru’s chest—Suguru’s life now resting entirely in his hands, alongside those of the medical team rushing to help.

Why was this happening? The question burned in Satoru’s mind, unbearable to see Suguru like this. He's already getting everything but…

Why is he not fighting back? Why….? 

Suguru... please.. 

I haven't told you that I love you,

that you're more than just my bestfriend.. cause you're so much more. 

I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you

I love you, Suguru. 

I'm tired. Come back to me.. 

Don't leave me… not like this, please.. 

Not again. 

“If you want to kill me, kill me. I wouldn’t mind if it were by your hand. But make sure mine is the only life you take.”

Again? 

Satoru’s hands trembled violently as he continued chest compressions on Suguru, tears blurring his vision. Shoko’s sharp voice cut through the chaos, “Satoru, calm down!” 

But he snapped back, desperate and raw, “Shut up! He can’t die; Suguru can’t!” Every ounce of his strength poured into keeping Suguru alive, the unbearable thought that Suguru might slip away in his hands threatening to shatter him.. 

Why can't I..? I've saved lives countless times but why can't I bring him back? What does that make me? 

His desperation was so evident that she was at a loss for what to do. Shoko stood silently, torn between offering comfort and maintaining her professional composure. Her own heart clenched at the sight of her friend unraveling, the agony in the room nearly unbearable. Glancing at the monitor and then back at Satoru, she clenched her fists and closed her eyes, steeling herself. This was a moment where strength was needed most, even as the pain threatened to overwhelm them both.

Although Satoru was not a religious man, in this desperate moment, he found himself silently praying—begging, even—for Suguru’s life. He hoped, with every fiber of his being, that his plea would be heard. If it meant giving away his own lifespan in exchange, he would do it without hesitation. All he wanted was to sink back into Suguru’s purple haze the moment he woke up, to feel that warmth and light again.

The harsh, mechanical sound of the flatline monitor was a cruel reminder of how unprepared he was for this—how no one ever truly is. Around him, the medical team moved swiftly, each person focused and precise, doing everything in their power to save a life. It was their job, their duty, but the weight of it pressed heavily on Satoru’s heart.

When the defibrillators were brought in, the tension in the room thickened. Satoru’s voice was steady but strained. He assures them that Suguru doesn't have any heart conditions, but the danger was real, looming like a shadow over them all.

Every shock, every breath, every compression was a battle against time and fate—a fight Satoru was determined to win.

Satoru showed signs of uncertainty when Shoko chose to intervene and execute the procedure on Suguru instead, but he eventually gave in. But after a moment, he yielded—recognizing it was the sensible choice for now. To say he was composed would be a lie; he was painfully aware of how much control he had lost.  

When the medicine was handed to him, Satoru carefully administered it into Suguru’s IV line, his hands steady despite the turmoil inside.

He watched intently as Suguru lay motionless, the lifelessness in his friend’s still form cutting through him like a knife. A sharp, searing pain gripped Satoru’s chest, and he instinctively clutched at it, tears streaming down his face uncontrollably.

“Memories are stored in the heart and soul, It explains why it remembers it so vividly. “

He dropped to his knees, bowing his head in silent anguish. No one objected—after all, he was among the senior members of the medical team. Slowly, Satoru lifted his gaze to Suguru’s closed eyelids. Suguru had always been the object of his quiet admiration when sleeping beside him, peaceful and unaware. But now, staring at him like this, motionless and fragile, Satoru felt utterly unprepared.

Wake up, don't sleep like this, you'll catch a cold. The plea echoed softly in Satoru’s mind, a whispered prayer meant only for the man lying before him.

“Suguru…” His voice broke through the silence, louder this time—carrying all the hope and desperation he could muster. He wished for those words to reach Suguru’s soul, to stir his heart and mind, to awaken every part of him.

His eyes drifted down to Suguru’s hand. Is he still warm? The urge to hold it surged inside him, but he hesitated, reluctant to use his own warmth as a test, as a way to demand answers he wasn’t sure he was ready to hear.

Then, a subtle twitch.

Not Satoru’s, but Suguru’s.

“The heart rate has stabilized!” a nurse’s voice rang out, sharp and clear.

In that moment, the chaos around him seemed to slow, time stretching and bending in Satoru’s world. A deep sigh escaped him, half relief, half shock, as hope cautiously bloomed in his chest.

You heard me… he grabbed Suguru's hand and pressed it against his cheeks, He's warm. 

Shoko watched him and placed a hand on Satoru's shoulder who gave her a meaningful smile. Her eyes were hazy and she looked like she could burst at any moment. She felt a sense of distant relief, It appeared to be someone else's, yet from the same body—hers. 

˖⁺‧₊˚ 𐚁ᥫ᭡. ˚₊‧⁺˖

Suguru had already been moved to a private room, following Satoru’s firm orders. Though Suguru had yet to regain consciousness, everyone hoped he would wake up any moment now.

Satoru’s uncharacteristic display of emotion had startled the entire emergency room staff. Known for his calm, self-collected demeanor, the prodigy’s raw reaction was unexpected. When the staff later discovered that the patient was someone close to him, their whispers shifted from surprise to understanding—yet they continued quietly, respecting the gravity of the situation.

Suguru occupied so much of Satoru’s thoughts that he remained oblivious to the murmurs around him. And frankly, he didn’t care. That was the only response anyone could expect from him at this moment.

Shoko had just finished half of her cigarette pack outside and was making her way back into the hospital to check on her friends. As she rounded the corner near Suguru’s room, a familiar silhouette caught her eye—Satoru, seated quietly just outside the chamber. She paused mid-step in the hallway, raking a hand through her hair and clicking her tongue softly before approaching him.

Satoru heard the soft click of her shoes but didn’t lift his head.

“Why are you here?” Shoko asked directly, hands resting in the pockets of her lab coat.

Still, Satoru remained silent.

With a sigh, Shoko stepped closer, studying him more carefully. Though he appeared still, she noticed his slight trembling. She looked away briefly, then placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“He’ll wake up any time now. You should be by his side,” she said softly, patting him lightly. “Suguru needs you.”

“Shoko…”

“Satoru.” Satoru’s voice cracked as he finally raised his head, eyes swollen and raw. He looked utterly drained, lifeless even. Shoko could tell he’d been fighting back tears, but his emotions had betrayed him. 

“Lift yourself up and get your ass there. You wouldn’t want him to wake up without you, do you?” Shoko’s voice was firm, but tears threatened to spill from her eyes. She clenched her jaw, forcing herself to hold them back.

“I… I can’t… I don’t think I can, Sho.” Satoru’s voice faltered, tears welling up as he shook his head in defeat.

“I c-can’t bring myself to look at h-him. My heart—my heart can’t take it! My mind keeps droning things into my ears and—fuck—I hate it, Shoko! I just can’t handle it. It's too much…” His words came out in a trembling whisper, muffled by his sobs, feeling ashamed and guilty. 

Her heart tightened with pain. What had happened back there was excruciating and traumatic for both of them. They might be a pain in the ass most of the time, but she loved them—and she knew they loved her too. Seeing Satoru still crying moved her deeply. As her fingers clenched gently around his shoulder, she sank to her knees, covering her mouth to stifle her sobs.

“Suguru is just sleeping, Satoru—” Her voice wavered, muffled behind her hand. God, she hated this moment.

But Satoru’s chest heaved with ragged breaths, guilt weighing on him like a crushing stone

“Suguru is just sleeping, Satoru-” Her voice wavered and covered her mouth. Gosh, she hates this. 

“What if he doesn't wake up?” Satoru and his overthinking, It is reasonable but dispiriting. 

“Suguru will, he'll wake up- stop it! he has you!”

Stop referring to him as “he”,

Say his name. 

“He almost died-”

“But he didn't!” Grabbing both of his hands, she stared right into his eyes—the same eyes that Suguru never stops talking about to her. Tears now well up in the eyes that brighten up whenever he talks about Suguru.

“You saved him, Satoru! We saved him!” She stated, making sure that he's listening to what she's saying. “Suguru is saved, he is alive.”

“Isn't that much better than having to accept that he's not with us anymore?” Shoko asks, attempting to talk to him through it and give him the heart to step inside and be present when Suguru opens his eyes. "Stop making yourself believe that he's.. fuck!"

She refused to say the word. 

She learned from her lengthy talk with Suguru that he prefers to see Satoru beside him when he awakens rather than the sun, because Satoru gives him life like the sun. 

“Shoko, I haven't told him-”

“Then tell him once he wakes up, be a man, Satoru.”

They looked at each other for a considerable duration, recognizing that they had impacted one another's sentiments. With his sorrows quieted, Satoru gave her a hug and laid his forehead on her shoulder. Patting his head, Shoko stood still but wrapped one arm around him soon after. 

“Thank you, Shoko.. love you, I'm very happy to have you.” Even though it wasn't the first time, she was moved nonetheless; it just struck her in a different way. Satoru being affectionate is not unusual, he just frequently shows it through teasing and his bothersome antics. Those words may be simple but It made her feel seen. 

“Go to him now, Suguru is the only one who can deal with your whiny personality.” Satoru giggled, released the hug, and wiped away his own tears.

Ah, there you are

“You put up with me, too”

“Unfortunately,” She rolled her eyes playfully, “Thank fuck, Suguru appeared or else I would've worked somewhere else.”

After chuckling at one other's comment, they fell silent.

“Suguru is just sleeping. “ Satoru mumbled like a reminder to himself, Shoko heard it and nodded. 

“Yeah, so move your massive feet inside.”

Satoru got up and offered Shoko a hand before moving towards the door. He looked over to Shoko after grabbing the knob and smiled before stepping inside. As soon as she heard the door click, she dusted her clothes and dropped her lighter on the floor. She let out a deep breath and bent down to pick it up, and decided to light the rest of her cigarettes. 

˖⁺‧₊˚ 𐚁ᥫ᭡. ˚₊‧⁺˖

Deep in the shadowed corners of his unconscious mind, distant murmuring voices pressed like a weight upon his chest—faint yet unyielding, familiar yet haunting. They were the voices of himself and Satoru, etched into the fabric of his being, carrying the heavy burden of the world. Each word hung thick in the air like the dense fog of a long-forgotten dusk, pulling him deeper into memories that were both a comfort and a chain. Impossible to escape. Impossible to ignore. 

“It's just that in a world like this… I just couldn't wear a heartfelt smile in this world.” 

“ … “

“At least curse me a little at my end. “

—

“Who are you?!”

“Suguru Geto, of course. Did you forget? How sad.”

“Your body… and even your cursed energy...” 

“MY SIX EYES TELLS ME YOU'RE SUGURU GETO BUT MY SOUL KNOWS OTHERWISE!” Satoru yelled, sharp and nauseous, aimed at the man who wore Suguru's body like a puppet—manipulated and exploited, turning them into a weapon against their own nature and loved ones. 

The impostor smiled, a cruel shadow playing on his lips. “Good night, Satoru Gojo. Until we meet again in the new world.”

Satoru’s gaze burned with relentless fire, cutting through the hollow shell before him. “Yeah, maybe it's a good night for me. But It's time for you to wake up.” 

“How long will you let it have its way with you.. Suguru?” His voice cracked with a mix of anger, grief, and desperate hope. Distressed. 

A flicker of resistance stirred. Suguru’s hand shot up, swinging toward his own neck, fingers tightening in a chokehold—to harm the one who violated his body, going against Kenjaku's will to protect Satoru. 

It was muscle memory, a silent scream from the real Suguru, buried deep beneath layers of horror and control. “HAHAHAHA NO WAY! THIS IS A FIRST FOR ME!” The impostor laughed. 

—

“You're making me jealous, but if you're satisfied, then that's alright.”

“Satisfied?” Satoru echoed, “If you were among those patting my back… then I might've been satisfied.” 

Suguru let out a gentle chuckle, his eyes drifting away from Satoru’s piercing gaze for a moment. At the corner of his eyes, a few tears shimmered—silent witnesses to the weight of their shared past, the friendship fractured by fate and ideology.  

Reuniting not only two strong sorcerers but also spirits that have been entwined for eternity, plagued by the past but still aching for a connection that transcended tragedy and time.

˖⁺‧₊˚ 𐚁ᥫ᭡. ˚₊‧⁺

….Suguru

Suguru's eyes fluttered awake, narrowing against the dim ambient fluorescent lights in the vicinity. He gave himself a few blinks as his eyes adjusted to the haze. He felt a heavy weight pressing down on his chest, crushing his heart, a suffocating sensation that persisted even as he slowly awoke. There was a peculiar sense of relief beneath it as if one were emerging from a deep, raging sea. The memory that had just slipped away wasn’t one he recognized as his own; it was too vivid, too raw. But he was certain it wasn’t a mere dream. It was a memory—a glimpse from someone he knew intimately. From himself.

The pain, the loss, the internal beating buried deep within—they were not his alone. They belonged to them both, intertwined by fate and friendship, scars carved into their souls. And though the memory had faded, its echo remained—a haunting reminder of the bond forged through suffering, and the unspoken understanding that neither could ever truly escape their past. 

Satoru and Suguru shared those tragedies. And now, they don't have to. It doesn't have to hurt for their love to be real despite the fact that It comes with it because love can be gentle just like their blue spring. 

Where's Satoru? 

He glanced over to his left and saw Satoru's head resting on the bedside, his hand intertwined with his. It was impossible for him not to smile; he had loved this man his entire life. 

“Satoru..” The most natural thing to do, in the most impassioned of tones, was undoubtedly to speak his name like a solemn prayer. 

“Mmmm…?” Satoru stirred in his sleep with brows furrowed, not letting go of his hand. Suguru had always been fond of the way Satoru responds to his name being called solely by him. 

Suguru saw Satoru's puffed eyes as soon as he delicately opened them and shifted in his seat uncomfortably. Had he been crying? He couldn’t shake the heavy guilt that settled—knowing he had frightened Satoru, whose greatest fear had always been losing him.

“Suguru?” Satoru’s voice cracked, raw and ragged from crying so much it had turned hoarse.

When their eyes finally met, those same piercing eyes that had captivated Suguru from the very beginning shimmered with unshed tears, glassy and vulnerable. Satoru had always been breathtaking—strong, untouchable—but now, in this fragile moment, he was achingly human.

Instead of pulling Suguru into an embrace, Satoru let out a choked sob against Suguru’s hand, tightening his hold. The warmth of that touch was a lifeline. Suguru’s fingers shook slightly as he began to stroke Satoru’s face with tender care, slow and deliberate, grounding them both.

Satoru lifted his gaze, locking eyes with Suguru once more—silent words passing between them, a mixture of pain, relief, and the unspoken promise that regardless of everything, they were still here. Together.

“I heard you.” Suguru smiled softly, a genuine warmth spreading across his face as his expression softened in response to Satoru’s astonished reaction.

“You heard me…” Satoru whispered, closing his eyes to savor the warmth of Suguru’s hand pressed gently against his cheek. “If this is a dream, please tell me because I don’t ever want to wake up.”

“And why is that?” Suguru asked, his voice tender as he carefully wiped away Satoru’s tears, his eyes tracing every line of Satoru’s face with quiet reverence.

“You stayed,” Satoru said, his voice trembling as if Suguru had never truly been gone. “Y-You… you nearly died, Suguru! It was because I let my personal feelings get in the way. Despite being a doctor, I couldn't- fuck, I almost lost you.”

Suguru cut him off softly, shaking his head. He raised his index finger and pressed it lightly against Satoru’s lips, silencing him with a tender hush.

“There are situations you have no control over,” Suguru whispered, his voice steady and warm. “You are not to blame. I’m here—alive, right next to you. What does that say about you?”

“I just told you, didn't I? You called my name, and I heard you, ‘Toru.” Suguru brought their hands to his lips and kissed them reassuringly. 

“Is this a dream?” He asked again. 

“No, It's not a dream.” Suguru assured, caressing his closed eyes. As soon as he opened his eyes and saw Suguru, the smile on his face broadened. 

I love you. 

Suguru gently placed his hands on Satoru’s back, offering comfort as Satoru hurled himself into his embrace. The warmth of that closeness was immediate. Suguru’s mind flashed back to a moment he noticed beforehand—how Satoru’s fingers had pressed lightly against his wrist, searching for a pulse, trying to confirm he was still alive. That fragile touch, filled with anxious hope, had been Satoru’s way of holding on, refusing to believe Suguru could be gone. Suguru held him securely and closed his eyes, feeling a rush of clashing emotions. He doesn't ever wanna let go of Satoru. He wants to live this life with him, and a thousand more. 

“Suguru.” He whispered, his breath warm against his skin. Suguru bummed in response, his hand making its way to his cloudy hair, stroking it with such care. 

Satoru broke the silence, his heart pounding loudly inside his chest, but resolute. “I like you.”

Satoru declares after overcoming his hesitations and doubts. Learning that they don’t have all the time in the world, he seeks to say it now rather than to never admit it. Suguru remained silent, not saying anything. Suguru said nothing in return, but his heart swelled with a happiness so profound it nearly overwhelmed him. He wondered if Satoru could hear it, feel it in the way he held him closer in his embrace. 

Suguru had hoped that Satoru felt the same way way back before today, but fear held him back. Fear of losing what they have. So, he kept his true feelings locked away from his best friend—pining over him in silence, hoping that he'd notice. He knew he wasn't being truthful to himself either, but he'd do anything just to keep Satoru in his life. 

“Satoru—” Suguru began, but he got interrupted. 

“It's enough that you heard me; you don't need to say anything more. I just wanted to let you know.” The words spilled out but Suguru knows him too well not to recognize it. 

Lie. 

What came out of his mouth was a lie. He could see it in the way Satoru fidgeted, in the awkward chuckle that barely masked the fear beneath his fake positivity. He’s terrified of losing me, but he’s also terrified of admitting how much he needs me, Suguru realized. That need, that hunger.

He craved to be selfish, to be greedy—to own Suguru in a way that went beyond friendship or simple affection. To claim him utterly, to feel that Suguru’s heart only knows him. But deep down, he knew he couldn’t.

I can’t own him. I can’t demand him. I’m not entitled to that.

That truth twisted inside him, a painful knot of fear and shame. The part of him that wanted to be possessive was tangled with the part that knew such desire might push Suguru away. It might be suffocating to let him know that. The thought of Suguru belonging to anyone else, even in the smallest way, filled him with a burning rage he couldn’t control. He hates it. It makes him feel sick. 

"I'm an idiot, aren't I?" He chuckled awkwardly, fidgeting his fingers, unable to meet Suguru's eyes. 

Perhaps he ought to have spoken out sooner to ease Satoru's anxiety. He noticed the subtle shift in Satoru’s tone and movements—the way he tried to pull away from the embrace, but his grip was growing weak. 

“You should rest… “ Satoru muttered softly, feeling a bit embarrassed. Ashamed.

Suguru's heart stirred. With a cautious hand, he reached out and cupped Satoru's face, resting his forehead against his while closing his eyes as though to compose himself. “I would be restless if I answered you with silence,” He murmured. “Because I like you, Satoru.”

“I denied it to myself but it only strengthened. I fear your rejection, ‘Toru. How should I move on to our tomorrows where feelings are not involved in every gesture?” Suguru drew a shaky breath, “And when I started spiraling, I found myself losing hope in us. I can't be your man if I'm broken, you deserve someone who's whole. But you—” He paused. 

“You stood with me. You reminded me why I fell for you, Satoru. You became my hope in his rotten world.” Suguru's hand trembled against his cheek, “You don't even have to ask me to love you, because I already do… I have, for a long time now. ”

Oh.. 

Even though Satoru was overwhelmed, it didn’t stop him from planting a soft kiss on Suguru’s forehead, then trailing down to his closed eyes. His hands cupped Suguru’s face gently, his thumb brushing over the golden skin soothingly before he pinched Suguru’s cheeks playfully.

“Idiot.” They both laughed at his remark and that's all they needed to understand each other that no one else can. 

"You better not be kidding me right now, I swear." Satoru threatens, pinching Suguru's pecs in return.

"Ouch! Ow! I'M NOT!" Suguru laughed in between the sting. Satoru narrowed his eyes, analyzing him, and when he saw no lie from his eyes, he decided to let go of his flesh, his own cheeks growing rosy. 

"Okay.. I believe you." Satoru mumbled with a pout and laid his head back, then gave a small, apologetic pat on Suguru’s chest to make amends from his earlier teasing. 

Maybe Suguru is really sick because he found it endearing. Yeah. Maybe. 

They stayed like that for a long while, wrapped in the quiet warmth of each other’s skin, separated only by the thin barrier of their clothes. Suguru’s hand rested gently on Satoru’s head, stroking in slow, soothing circles that made Satoru’s eyelids grow heavy, making him drowsy. 

“I had a long dream,” Suguru says, earning a quiet hum from Satoru, whose tracing patterns on his finger.

“I don't remember, but my body felt heavy, I couldn't move as if there were hands that's holding me still, and all I could hear were voices.” 

Satoru turned his head slowly to look at him, his eyes half-lidded with a mix of curiosity and concern. The softness in Satoru’s gaze made Suguru melt in a way words couldn’t capture. He smiled gently and reached out, twirling a loose strand of Satoru’s hair around his finger, adoring how delicate it was. 

“I felt your commitment to me. Amid all the voices that fucked me up, yours was the one that freed me from the agony. ”

He pressed a soft kiss to Satoru’s forehead—a silent promise, an anchor in the storm. Satoru didn’t speak; instead, he snuggled closer, he felt precious and cared for. The room they never anticipated to become comfortably quiet, but all is well, they've got each other, and things will soon be better. 

˖⁺‧₊˚ 𐚁ᥫ᭡. ˚₊‧⁺˖

After two weeks, Suguru was finally discharged from the hospital, much to Satoru’s insistence that he would keep a close eye on him from then on. Despite their midnight confession, they hadn’t spoken about it again—every time they tried, their faces flushed bright red pathetically, and their words stumbled awkwardly between them. It was as if they had suddenly turned into shy teenagers, fumbling over every sentence like a kid. 

Shoko was delighted when she found out that they've confessed, but soon got cranky because they were acting like teenagers who didn't know what to do with a boner. Behaving all shy and coy, it was driving her nuts. 

Suguru, meanwhile, couldn’t shake the memory of the conversation Satoru had with Shoko back at the hospital. He’d been awakened by the sound of their voices and had pretended to be asleep, not wanting to interrupt or intrude on their talk. The quiet intimacy of that moment lingered in his mind, making him both curious and uneasy

“Thank you again for being there, Shoko. You saved our butts off back there,” Satoru said with a hint of shyness. “Sorry for being stubborn when all we want to do is to save him, I let my personal feelings get in the way which probably hindered the chances of reviving him sooner.“

“I was so scared- He almost…“ He clenched his fists and sighed, “What happened felt so familiar, I don't know how to explain it. Seeing him like that was worse than death itself.”

“Save your sorrys, Suguru is very important to you, and I know that. It was hard to watch you fall apart. like that… I hope it doesn't happen again.” Shoko spoke, with one hand patting Satoru on the shoulder. “I was about to lose it, too, because you two are my friends. That was scary.”

“That's actually so sweet of you,” He coos. “I could get used to hearing you say things like that.” He cheekily said, nudging her. 

“Oh shut up.” Shoko shoved him enough for him to hit the armrest of the couch. 

“Anyway, have you told him?” Shoko asked, her eyes narrowing with curiosity.

Suguru’s heart skipped a beat. What exactly did Satoru intend to tell him? Then, he wonders whether Shoko was aware of Satoru's affections for him. The possibility is high, isn't it? 

She studied Satoru’s expression closely, then leaned back with a knowing smile after she got her answer. “I see… So you haven’t told him a thing about the proposal overseas. Almost everyone wants to sign you, as if you’re some kind of celebrity,” She scoffed, rolling her eyes playfully. 

“Do I have to?” Satoru replied coolly. “I have no intention of going. I’ll be wherever Suguru is—”

“Because you love him,” Shoko interrupted with a chuckle, shaking her head at the lovesick fool.

Satoru couldn’t help but laugh too, a genuine smile breaking across his face. “Yeah, I love him. I love Suguru.”

Shoko gave him a dramatic look and face-palmed. “Ehhh, you’re such a sap now? Can you not—oh my, you guys are gonna be so much worse now.” 

Suguru felt a warmth bloom in his chest, hearing those words straight from Satoru’s mouth. His heart thumped with a fierce joy. Satoru chose him. The pangs of guilt for selfishly holding back the prodigy was there, but he decided not to entertain it. It doesn't need to be talked about again. Satoru had already made his choice, and that was what truly mattered. 

“Plus, I also thrive here. I can be wherever I want to be if I wanted to, but I don't, so…” Satoru shrugged. 

For a second, he thought their conversation was over but Satoru decided to be diabolical.

“You're gonna be the godmother of our children.” Shoko eyed him and smacked his head which made him yelp. 

“I had enough with you two. And fuck, you can't get pregnant. What are you? A seahorse?”

“An omega actually.”

“Huh?” 

“It's a secondary gender in this omegaverse thingy where males can also get pregnant, a patient told me. Won't hurt if we try, imagine the pregnancy glow.” Satoru explained, fascinated with himself. Joking furthermore by rubbing his flat tummy, pretending that he can conceive. 

“You do realize that it's fiction, right?” Shoko blinked, Satoru nodded with a shrug. “I don't see what Suguru saw in you…” She sighed and shook her head. 

Suguru had to stop himself from laughing. 

Suguru was on the phone with Shoko, his mind tangled up in one persistent thought: how on earth was he supposed to ask Satoru to be his boyfriend? It was taking up so much space in his head, and yet the words just wouldn’t come out. Why was it so hard to say? Bless him for wanting things to be special unlike other men who don't make any effort. 

“Just fuck if you two can't talk like normal people would, virgin.” Shoko snapped, her voice dripping with exasperation. Suguru suppressed a smile—she was so done with them.

As the New Year rolled in, nothing about their behavior together had changed. But of course, there were visible changes since the feelings are mutual. And when it came to asking each other out on a proper date, something different from their usual ‘dates’—they were both at a loss since they’ve done what lovers do as friends. It should be easy and natural, but it's not. 

Was it this conflicting for other couples too? 

“I might consider doing that if I don't get my words right.” Suguru replied, feeling the cold breeze drift from the opened balcony. 

“Told ‘ya,” She said, “He’ll be happy nevertheless, so go bother him already. It's not like you guys didn't fantasize about having sex with each other. Bye!” 

And with that, she ended the call before Suguru could say another word.

With a blanket in hand, he climbed out of the bed to join Satoru in the living room who was most likely nursing his fourth cup of hot cocoa with whip cream and extra toppings. He settled behind Satoru, wrapping the blanket around them both to share the warmth.

“Feels nice, ‘Toru?” Suguru murmured, pulling him gently into a cuddle.

“Mhm, it feels nice,” Satoru replied softly. “You’re warming me up.”

Satoru leaned back against Suguru, savoring the comfort of his presence. He cherished these moments—knowing Suguru didn’t mind putting up with his neediness, even before. In fact, Suguru loves it. Though they had always been at ease with one another, the weight of their feelings sometimes complicated how they acted, especially now that they both knew they were in love. 

Suguru rested his head on Satoru’s shoulder, arms wrapping around his waist. The sweet scent of cocoa and Satoru’s subtle warmth drew him closer, and he breathed him in near his neck, embracing the quiet intimacy between them.

Satoru could feel a flush of heat spreading through him as Suguru’s breath and touch neared his bare skin, sending shivers down his spine. He tilted his head slightly, offering Suguru better access to his neck, a silent invitation.

“Mmmm…” Suguru exhaled, a hint of satisfaction in his tone. 

If they don’t stop now, their desire would only grow more insistent. Given the magnetic pull between them, this quiet closeness was dangerously tempting—it could easily lead to clothes being discarded on the floor. Suguru clenched his teeth, resisting the urge to go further. Instead, he stopped tracing Satoru’s skin with his nose, though the soft whine that escaped Satoru told him just how much it was appreciated.

Gently pulling Satoru closer, Suguru withdrew from his neck and nuzzled into the warmth of his back, savoring it without crossing the line—at least for now.

“Go on a date with me.” Suguru managed to say, breath heavy and heart thumping. 

Satoru’s eyes snapped open, and a wide grin spread across his face. Even if it sounded more like a demand, he didn’t mind—it was Suguru asking, and that was all that mattered. In his mind, it was incredibly attractive. He wanted to jump around the house with joy, but the coziness held him back. 

“Thought you'd never ask! I was planning on crying for a week, you jerk. Gosh– you beat me to it.” Satoru beams. He unwrapped Suguru’s arms from around his waist and turned to face him. Before they knew it, they were both lying on the carpet, laughter bubbling between them.

Suguru immediately felt Satoru’s weight as he plopped down on top of him which wasn't a bother. Sliding one arm over Satoru’s waist to hold him in place. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist my charms, Sugu.” 

Suguru just shrugged at him, enjoying how expressive his expressions were. 

“Wow, am I all about appearance to you?” Satoru gasped and faked a pained cry as if offended. 

“I'm starting to think that I should take back what I said.” Suguru bantered. 

“No! don't you dare, I'm already envisioning an outfit inside my head, you can't ruin it. Bastard.” Satoru said, rolling his eyes but blushing as he plopped his head on Suguru’s chest and poked it with his index finger, admiring how strong and plushy it may seem. 

“What a baby.” Suguru coos and poked Satoru's cheek to tease him. 

“Nye nye unless you want me naked on our first romantic date, can do that. Just say so.” Satoru winked mischievously, making Suguru flustered which caused him to shove him. 

“Ow!” He pouted and pinched Suguru's arm in retaliation. 

They giggled softly, wrapped up in the comfort of each other’s presence. As Suguru traced gentle circles on Satoru’s back, he focused on the steady rhythm of his pulse. Slowly, Satoru’s breathing softened, and he drifted off to sleep.

Suguru watched him, mesmerized by the peaceful rise and fall of Satoru’s chest, feeling as if he had somehow eased the weight of his exhaustion. His own eyelids grew heavy, and lulled by the quiet rhythm of Satoru’s breath, Suguru soon followed into a gentle sleep.

I love you. 

˖⁺‧₊˚ 𐚁ᥫ᭡. ˚₊‧⁺˖

When Suguru woke the next morning, he immediately noticed the absence of Satoru’s weight on top of him. He tossed and turned, reaching out instinctively—but his hand met only empty air. Is he up already? How productive of him. 

A soft groan escaped Suguru as he opened his eyes, greeted by the warm glow of sunlight filtering through the window. The quiet room felt emptier without Satoru’s presence, and a sudden ache of longing settled in his chest. He had expected to see him there this morning—so where had he gone?

Sitting up idly, Suguru fixed his hair lazily and cast his gaze around the living room. After a deep sigh, he decided to search the house for Satoru, hoping to find him soon so they could get ready for the day ahead.

“Satoru! Where are you?” He called but no one answered. That's strange, he doesn't have work today. 

“Toru!” Suguru called out again, his voice rising in panic, but there was no answer. What the hell? 

He grabbed his phone and dialed his phone number, but it went straight to voicemail. No response. He had already searched every corner of the house—so where was Satoru? Did he ditch him? 

Feeling a surge of panic, Suguru stumbled into the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water. As he drank, he stared down at the sink, trying to steady his racing heart. But the unease only grew heavier inside him, twisting into a gnawing fear that Satoru had abandoned him—left him alone without a word.

His mind spiraled, imagining all the worst possibilities. The silence around him suddenly felt suffocating.

No, he wouldn't.

That little shit is too in love with me to leave me. 

Satoru would never leave him even if it's just the two of them in this world. Might as well go on survival mode. 

With a deep exhale, Suguru countered the dark thoughts and forced himself to snap out of it. He felt a pang of shame and guilt for doubting Satoru—who had made it clear, through every word and action, that he was staying regardless no matter what. Maybe his worry was just nerves, the anxious flutter before their date today.

Reassured, Suguru’s eyes caught a piece of paper stuck to the fridge—something he hadn’t noticed when he went to grab the water jug. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, unsure whether to feel afraid or embarrassed.

He quickly walked over, snatched the note, bracing himself for whatever message awaited.

Out to buy some pastries for a serotonin boost! my body feels numb, I need it ｡>﹏<｡

You looked peaceful, so I didn't wake you up :< and you gave me a hard time, It's almost impossible to escape your hold. (that's hot, sorry) AND FUCK, I ALMOST KISSED YOU, I'M SORRY SUGUUUUUU FORGIVE ME PLSSS ゜:(つд⊂):゜It wasn't my intention to take advantage of you while you're asleep. Won't admit this in person cause I'm embarrassed as fuck. I don't know why I'm telling you this, probably my guardian angel's doing. Why the fuck are you so irresistible? I hate you. 

I'll be back soon, too bad you woke up without me. You should miss me, suguru :p

With tons of love (for you), 

Satoru ♡

Once again, Satoru’s charm worked its magic. Suguru placed a hand over his face, feeling heat rush to his cheeks as he read the letter. He swore he could hear Satoru’s voice in every word with specific tones woven in the note. There was also a doodle of Satoru that made Suguru chuckle. How childish yet it's what makes him the person he fell for. 

“Oh god, I should've known.” Suguru muttered, grimacing as he squatted down with the letter still clutched in his hand. He gently touched his lips, tracing them lightly as his mind wandered back to the information of Satoru coming dangerously close to kissing him while he was asleep.

His heart pounded fiercely in his chest, blood flooding his cheeks once more. He bit his lower lip to hold back a smile, caught between embarrassment and the sweet thrill of being so deeply cared for.

It would be nice to feel his lips against mine, wouldn't it? 

Suguru heard the front door open and cursed under his breath as he began panicking for no reason. 

“I'm back, Suguuuu~” Satoru beamed, probably kicking off his shoes by now. Hearing familiar footsteps approaching, he quickly pretended to be busy with something.

“Oh—what’s with your posture? You look constipated,” Satoru teased Suguru who’s awkwardly leaning against the counter in a way that made it impossible for Satoru not to laugh at him. 

“Uh, nothing—? What the fuck, stop laughing, ‘Toru!” Suguru protested, but Satoru’s laughter only grew louder, so infectious that Suguru couldn’t help but join in. contagious that Suguru joined his laughter. 

What an eventful morning. 

After teasing Suguru relentlessly, Satoru took out the pastries he’d bought that he wanted to share with him. As they settled in, Satoru began yapping animatedly, and Suguru matched his energy, their conversation flowing effortlessly. They eagerly listened to each other, tossing playful comments back and forth, filling the room with laughter and banter. 

Doing all that wasn't helpful enough for Suguru to stop thinking about the attempted kiss—the way Satoru’s lips looked so irresistibly glossy and pink, a result of his careful habit of applying lip balm to keep them soft and hydrated. He even wears lip glosses from time to time. His curiosity about the sensation of those lips against his own grew stronger, especially imagining the sweetness of his mouth that lingers from the pastries Satoru had just eaten was so enticing to look at Satoru's irresistible lips. 

Without thinking, Suguru reached out and gently wiped a smudge of cream from the corner of Satoru’s mouth. Then, deliberately, he ran his thumb slowly over Satoru’s lower lip, fighting the urge to push his thumb inside to make him clean it off him. Satoru was silent. The moment hung between them, charged with unspoken desire and restraint.

It's soft. Suguru noted, bringing his thumb to his mouth and sucked it off. 

“Tastes sweet.” 

I want to kiss him. 

The room fell quiet and Satoru could feel the burning gaze at him. He noticed the flush spreading across Satoru’s cheeks, the faint redness at the tips of his ears. He could kiss him right now until his jaw aches. He wanted to devour him, here and now.

Satoru licked his lips, slow and seductive, then coyly fluttered his eyelashes at Suguru, catching him completely off guard. He’s so insufferable.

Well, Satoru wasn’t naive—he knew exactly how Suguru was staring at him. The intensity made him feel like prey caught under a hunter’s gaze.

“I think so, too,” Satoru muttered, a cheeky smile plastered on his lips, maintaining eye contact. 

I need to kiss him. 

˖⁺‧₊˚ 𐚁ᥫ᭡. ˚₊‧⁺˖

They arrived at the aquarium on time.It was a bit far from the city, but already they could tell it was worth every mile and every drop of gas. Suguru remembered how much Satoru had wanted to visit last year, but the crowds had made it hard to enjoy the scenery, so they had gone skiing instead.

“How romantic, Suguuu~,” Satoru teased, nudging him playfully. “You really know how to make me fall in love with you.”

“Yeah, because you’re my one and only romance, ‘Toru,” Suguru said sincerely. It was no wonder Satoru’s heart beat only for this purple haze. Though It may sound cheesy, Satoru liked the sound of it. 

Satoru punched his chest lightly and grinned. “Duh, as it should be. I hate sharing.”

“I know.”

Suguru chuckled softly and held his face. He brushed back a few strands of white hair and pressed an affectionate peck to Satoru’s forehead.

God, he's so irresistible—so fucking cute. 

If Satoru was a cat, he would be purring in no time. And if he was a dog, his tail would be wagging nonstop. All because of Suguru and of course, his sugar addiction. 

Suguru could only laugh as Satoru began jumping around like a fool, a lovesick fool.

“C'mon baby, let's go.” Suguru shook his hand for Satoru to take, motioning him to hurry. 

Satoru doesn't know where to begin nor the reason behind him blushing because Suguru really knows how to get him, really. 

They were in awe the entire time as they strolled through the aquarium, surrounded by stunning shades of blue. The vibrant marine life inside the tanks captivated them both, and every now and then, they would steal glances at each other when the other wasn’t looking—what a beautiful sight indeed. 

After snapping some pictures, they came to a conclusion to develop them once they got back, planning to add it to their photo album. Something about their shared memory was consoling and healing for the two of them, they were moments to remember. Satoru raised their interlaced hands and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of Suguru’s palm before dragging him along. It melts Suguru's heart to receive Satoru's affection, he's soft for all of it. 

With an ice cream in hand, they are now having a stroll before heading home. Satoru had picked up a few souvenirs that perfectly matched his tastes, while Suguru brought matching phone charms—a black and white betta fish because of Satoru's excited words: “It’s so us! Buy it, Suguuu!”

They found a bench and settled down. After finishing his ice cream, Satoru handed his phone to Suguru so he could attach the phone charm. Suguru worked carefully, and as soon as he was done, Satoru wrapped his arms around him and planted a gentle peck on each of his cheeks as a reward. 

Suguru didn't say a word and let it be. Content and happy. He tilted his head back and gazed up at the sky, admiring the stars twinkling above. It will start snowing soon. 

A soft tap on his shoulder brought Suguru back. He hummed in response, but when Satoru tapped again with growing impatience, whining like a brat.

“Suguuuruuuu,” Satoru called, finally catching Suguru’s full attention. Suguru raised an eyebrow, prompting Satoru to pout and hold up his bare hands.

“What happened to your gloves?”

“I think I left them at the store,” Satoru mumbled, “I had to take them off to try on the rings…” His eyes and brows were so expressive that Suguru couldn’t help but giggle. “My hands are going to freeze to death!”

With a chuckle, Suguru removed one of his gloves and slid it carefully onto Satoru's bare hand. Regarding the other, he intertwined their hands together, planted a swift kiss on Satoru's hand, and then tucked their laced hands into his coat pocket. Satoru held his breath as he watched every movement Suguru made, he knew damn well that he's blushing but seeing Suguru's cheeks turn pinkish almost made his heart burst. 

“I could get used to this.” 

“That's alright with me.” 

Suguru felt Satoru squeeze his hand and made him look at him, breath catching in his throat. Satoru was smiling—that familiar smile he always wore, but this one felt different from the rest. It was passionate, honest, pure, and genuine, as if it came from the deepest, most sacred place in his heart reserved only for Suguru. Suguru was utterly captivated, unable to tear his eyes away.

Satoru is beautiful. Satoru is salvation. Satoru is heaven. 

“Look! there's a bike over there, we should rent it.” Satoru pointed at the shop, unaware of how Suguru was looking at him. 

“Yeah, we should.” Suguru replied, still lost in the sight of him. 

Satoru bit his lower lip for a second, then leaned in to kiss Suguru on his cheek to distract him. He got shy and stood up, expecting Suguru to do as well. But when he peered down at him, Suguru remained seated, caught in a daze. 

I did that, didn't I? 

“Suguuuu! Stop daydreaming about me, at least have the balls to kiss me.” He shamelessly said, grinning widely as he got a reaction from him. 

“How prideful.” Suguru hissed as he stood. 

“I'm gay, that explains it.” 

“Whatever you say, princess.” He shrugged and started walking ahead, causing Satoru to stumble a little since their hands were in each other's hold. 

“Don't call me that- Wait!” 

Suguru just laughed and kept walking. When Satoru finally caught up to him without tripping, Suguru kissed his cheek before he could even start complaining. 

“Good boy.” Suguru meant it as a tease but saw Satoru turning pink. Well, that was something.. 

“Y-You're making it weird, you creep.” Satoru shot back, struggling with words. 

“If you say so, you look like you like it either way, princess.” 

Satoru clicked his tongue and swore to kiss this man at the end of the day. 

They opted to rent one bicycle because Satoru insisted on riding the bike together, and Suguru agreed, not caring that it is illegal. To have some alone time and have fun, they went somewhere with fewer people or no people on sight at all. Suguru grasped the handle while Satoru mounted the bicycle. He wrapped his arms around Suguru's waist, squeezed both of his thighs, then shoved his hands in the coat's pocket. 

“Careful, handsome.” Satoru said, rubbing his cheek on Suguru's back. 

The bicycle wobbled a little when Suguru began paddling, but quickly recovered. As they glided along the snowy path, both of them radiated pure happiness. They had done this countless times before, and Suguru swore that this wouldn’t be the last.

Navigating the slippery ground with skill, Suguru’s carefulness didn’t go unnoticed. Satoru’s heart fluttered, touched that Suguru was so mindful of keeping them both safe.

The stars flawless luster gave them a sense that it’s beaming down just for them. The cool breeze brushed against their skin, perfectly balancing the quiet warmth and coldness between them. Satoru rested his head softly on Suguru’s back, tightening his grip. In that peaceful silence, he wished for endless days like this—simple, jolly, and shared together. 

Satoru had always been mesmerized by Suguru’s long, silky hair, cascading smoothly with a natural sheen that caught the light effortlessly. His bangs often fell just so, delicately framing his face and drawing attention to his expressive eyes—the soft lavender hue that takes him home. There was an effortless grace in the way he carried himself, gentle yet confident. It was the very first thing that caught his eye. Sometimes, he would gently tuck those strands behind Suguru’s ears; other times, he’d simply lose himself in the beauty of Suguru’s face.

He loved getting lost in Suguru’s lavender haze—the soft, serene shade of his eyes—whether they were deep in conversation or Suguru was simply unaware of his gaze. In Suguru’s loving embrace, Satoru felt safe, as if every wound, every scar, could be healed by the warmth they shared. When Suguru said his name with such tenderness, Satoru knew he was home, and that home welcomed him completely.

Suguru was the person who showed Satoru what it truly meant to live. He taught him how to feel, how to hope, and how to love. And all Satoru used what he learned from Suguru for their eternity. 

Throughout his life, Satoru’s soul had always whispered one truth: never let go of Suguru. Seize every chance to hold him close—close enough to feel the steady beat of his pulse—because if he ever did lose him, no matter how hard he tried, he would never be the same. No one else could ever fill the void in his heart the way Suguru did, like lifeblood coursing through his veins.

Even as the night grew colder and icy snow began to fall, Suguru remained a source of warmth—steady and comforting. Nostalgic. 

He hopes he stays that way. 

“Suguru, over there!” He pointed over his shoulder. 

“Okay.” Suguru simply replied. Satoru couldn't shake off the butterflies in his stomach. 

I love you. 

After Satoru got off the bike, Suguru followed and left the bike someplace unveiled. When Suguru turned, his eyes caught Satoru’s bare hand reaching out to take his. For a moment, Suguru held his breath, bewitched by the simple gesture.

“Take my hand.” Satoru said in an odd tone as if he had been fighting demons. A faint blush colored his cheeks, betraying his forced composure. 

Suguru lifted his gaze to meet those azure eyes, amused. I could kiss him right now. 

“Demanding, aren't you?” Suguru smirked in fascination whilst Satoru rolled his eyes. 

“If you don't want to, just say so.” Satoru grumbled, Suguru figures that he might start sulking anytime soon.

Instead, Suguru closed the distance and took Satoru’s hand on his own. Their fingers intertwined naturally, fitting together like they were always meant to. Satoru’s face lit up with a radiant grin, his pout melting away as he yanked Suguru toward the snowy meadow.

His hands are soft… 

Suguru watched as Satoru’s fluffy hair bounced with each careless jump between his strides. He longed to touch it but held himself back—there would be time for that later. Though he could feel his feet sinking softly into the snow’s cold embrace, he barely noticed. All that mattered was the sound of Satoru’s laughter, silly and contagious, pulling a smile from Suguru’s own lips.

He can't pinpoint the exact moment when love quietly took root in his heart for the man before him. Satoru’s prickly personality might puzzle others, making them wonder why Suguru would choose to hold him so dear—and the truth is, they have never truly seen him as Suguru does. They didn't make an effort to know him beyond his antics. Suguru embraces every facet of Satoru’s being, accepting him wholly, for he understands the depths of his soul. His kind heart. Yet acceptance does not mean tolerate; Suguru knows he must gently guide Satoru, teaching him to shed his rough edges. Still, most days, he finds himself indulging those flaws, captivated beyond reason.

When Suguru laid his eyes on Satoru, just before the bloom of spring three years past, something in those eyes stopped time itself. There was a magnetism, a wild, oceanic depth that pulled him in, threatening to consume him whole. Satoru’s gaze was a tempest, vast and unknowable, and Suguru found himself helpless, unable to look away. He welcomed the silent teasing that followed, the way Satoru’s smirk danced at his fascination. But it was more than mere curiosity and amusement. It was salvation, a desperate yearning to unravel every story those eyes held, to lose himself in their endless tides. And Satoru, with a quiet surrender, let him drown. 

He enjoys Satoru's freewheeling nature whenever he's around, ignoring personal space. Sure, it might be bothersome, but Suguru can also be conceited at times; he wants no one to know Satoru better than himself. Satoru is his to begin with. He finds it fascinating that Satoru doesn't conceal who he is and with that, Suguru handles him well. Although It was challenging to deal with it at first (because Satoru keeps on pushing his buttons), but as they spent more time together, he became accustomed to it and eventually learned how to love and accept it. 

He would feel a strange unease if Satoru ever lost that playful spark. Suguru adored seeing him let down his guarded walls and act like a child—so free, so genuine, and honest. That innocent smile was a treasure he would protect with everything he had.

Suddenly, Suguru halted, standing still as he gazed down at Satoru, who was seated on the snow. A bewildered arch lifted one of Suguru’s eyebrows as their hands remained as one, warm against the cold. Satoru blinked up at him, then wiggled his eyebrows with a wicked grin, patting the snow beside him with his leg like a child.  

“Don't be a boomer, Sugu.” 

“I'm not. ”

“Then what are you waiting for? C'mere! Don't make your crush wait, sit next to me.” Satoru invites—half teasing, half impatient. 

Crush. The word caught Suguru off guard. He never imagined he’d hear it in adulthood. Damn right, I have a huge crush on you and it's making me fall apart. 

What a weird choice of word, swooning and fleeting—it's unfair. Because of that, Suguru felt every pulse of his heart, squealing like a lovesick teenage boy as butterflies danced. When he finally sat down, Satoru laid out flat on the snowy ground, eyes nearly closed, a soft, contented smile playing on his lips. Suguru looked at him and let out a fond chuckle before lying down beside him, their breaths mingling in the cold. 

“If there's a shooting star right now, what would you wish for?” Satoru posed a question, looking at the sky, his eyes shimmering with wonder.   

“You still believe those things?” He chose to say, staring at Satoru who giggled in response. 

Satoru smiled, a little wistfully. “Kind of, actually.” He paused, then added, “When I was a kid, I’d make so many wishes—on stars, on dandelions, anything that felt magical. But over time, I learned that not every wish gets answered. So now, I only wish when it really matters—when I’m desperate, or when something is weighing me down. “

Suguru's eyes softened, “Well, that makes sense. I don’t whisper wishes recklessly too, the reasons behind it matter.” He hummed. 

“You know, Suguru…”

At last, Satoru turned to him, their eyes meeting like a quiet song whispered between souls. The world hushed around them, and in that solemn silence, their gaze entwined—intimate, unspoken, infinite. Suguru’s hand tightened gently around Satoru’s, a silent promise blooming in the space between their fingers. A delicate smile curved Suguru’s lips, soft like the moon’s first light, and in that moment, he caught the flutter of surprise in Satoru’s eyes. A blush, not born of winter’s chill, painted Satoru’s cheeks—a tender notice awakened by Suguru’s presence. Satoru bit his lip, a fleeting tremor, then returned the smile, warm and radiant like the sun that faced the moon. 

“You came true,” Satoru confessed, sincerity shown in his eyes as they shined the brightest, gleaming, stars caught in the depths of his soul, glistening with a light that spoke of hope fulfilled and wishes granted. “My wish came true, Suguru.”

His name fell from his lips like a sacred hymn, different from how he usually utters his name—as if he had wandered endless lives searching for this moment, this person, this truth. The ache of longing softened into the balm of belonging.

Suguru’s vision blurred with tears, a shimmering echo of the love woven between them. No further words were needed; the silence spoke volumes, and in that shared breath, he understood what he meant. 

You beat me to it again, ‘Toru.

As Satoru sought to wipe Suguru's tears—which were worth the pearls—Suguru's hand was left unheld, suddenly adrift. His hand twitched at the absence of the specific warmth. Feeling incomplete when their hands are meant for each other to hold. 

Slowly, Suguru lifted his hand and gently placed his palm atop Satoru’s. With eyes closed, he began to patit tenderly, a quiet hum leaving his lips—the soft melody of Satoru’s favorite song. 

“Your fate is in your hands." A simple truth whispered ages ago—that every choice we make, every path we take, carves the story of our lives, shaping the destiny we are meant to live. Our hands, maps of unseen journeys, lines etched deep like ancient rivers, hold fate far beyond the skin. Perhaps like the very stars that watch over us have inscribed our futures there, silent guides in the palm’s delicate folds.

So when we reach out and hold another’s hand, it is more than a touch—it is a sacred trust, a quiet surrender of fate, a joining of destinies intertwined. In that grasp, we place our tomorrows, our hopes, our fears, and our dreams. All resting gently in the hands of another, together, forging a shared destiny. 

I want to know where the lines on your palms will take me—where it will take us. 

And even if you let go, I want to know. 

“Did you wish for something?” Satoru asks, admiring the pleased expression written on Suguru's face. 

Suguru hummed, then he nodded. Slowly opening his eyes to peer at Satoru's irises. 

“Care to tell me?” Satoru asked, waiting. With a faint chuckle, Suguru nuzzled against Satoru's skin until his lips met his palm, then went to plant a kiss.

“Nope.” He answered and made sure the “p” was pronounced just so. 

“Why not?” Satoru huffed, puffing out his cheek in mock protest, causing Suguru to kiss his face. He couldn't help not to. 

“It's a secret.” Suguru hushed, dismissing it. 

“But Suguuuu, I told you mine.” Satoru whines. 

“Not really.” He pinched his cheek, not too hard, but still earned another whine from Satoru. 

“You're a jerk.” Satoru says with a glare, pushing Suguru away a bit. Suguru chuckled and leaned closer. 

“Doesn't matter. I need to seal my wish.” Satoru’s curiosity sparked, his eyes brightening with intrigue.

“Seal it with what?”

“With a kiss.”

This time, Suguru was direct in the hopes that Satoru wouldn't find himself getting uncomfortable. There was no hesitation this time—only the quiet courage of truth spoken between two hearts. Their eyes solely at each other, searching, dilated, as if the world had shrunk to the space between their breaths. The silence stretched, heavy and tender, as their breathing slowed to match. A warm flush spread across their cheeks, trailing down to their necks, a silent confession of the rising heat between them.

Satoru had been the recipient of Suguru’s kisses—rare, but always sweet, like a promise planted in stolen moments. They were never rushed, never casual; they were quiet declarations that left Satoru aching for more. More than just the fleeting touch of lips, he longed for a kiss that spoke of everything he felt but could not say aloud. A kiss that would hold him steady against the uncertainty of the world. Each kiss kindled a yearning within Satoru, a desire so fierce that he vowed he would not face death without receiving one more—especially from his crush. 

He's not the only one who gets to be kissed, Suguru experiences it too. Suguru had always known that a kiss was more than just a touch of lips—it was a language all its own, intimate and deeply personal. So when Satoru pressed those soft, effortless “just because” kisses to his skin, Suguru found himself caught in a quiet storm of butterflies and confusion. Why does Satoru do it? For a while, Suguru wrestled with the question, his mind spinning with doubts and half-formed accusations. Satoru's feisty remarks—half-joking, half-serious—were a shield, a way to mask the fluttering hope he tried to deny. But beneath the surface, he knew the truth: he wanted to be the only one for Satoru. The only one who knows the warmth of those lips pressed against his own. 

But it's never enough. They must kiss. 

“Satoru.” He breathes, courageous and nervous. “Can I kiss you, ‘Toru?”

Satoru's eyes gleamed at what was said. In that daze, he thought of marrying Suguru right now and craft the message that serves as his vow. What a gentleman, there's no way he's not a freak. 

Even though Suguru saw the clear invitation in Satoru’s eyes—no objection nor rejection about being kissed right then and there—he still hesitated to do it. Suguru needed to know, to hear it spoken aloud. He wants Satoru to tell him that he wants it as much as he does. 

“Kiss me, Suguru.” There was a shift in Satoru's gaze that allured him. It came out as a whisper, making Suguru the only one to hear his plea. 

Suguru shifted gently, hovering above Satoru to gain a better perspective. Satoru squirmed slightly beneath his focused gaze, his breath hitching as Suguru’s thumb brushed softly across his lips, eyes locked on the tender movement. Their hearts pounded loudly in their chests, breaths coming in shallow, uneven gasps—each fully aware of the charged moment unfolding between them. Leaning in, Suguru closed his eyes the instant he felt the warmth of Satoru’s parted lips brush against his own. He fought to steady himself, knowing that if he lost control now, no amount of grounding would hold him back.

As soon as he opened his eyes, Suguru’s knees weakened at the breathtaking sight before him. Satoru lay beneath him, glowing and pliant—an ethereal vision as if sent by saints. His cheeks flushed a delicate rose, lips parted, waiting to be devoured, long white lashes fluttering softly. And those eyes—oh, those eyes—gazed up at Suguru with a mixture of desire and love that melted every doubt away.

Even as Satoru saw through Suguru’s imperfections and sins, it didn’t pierce him. Because his eyes alone speak volumes: a quiet, unwavering love that embraced Suguru’s soul, his everything.

His eyes. They tell. 

Placing his clothed palm gently against Suguru’s nape, Satoru nudged him closer until their lips barely touched. A mischievous smile curved Satoru’s lips, knowing full well that Suguru could feel it when it curved. Unable to resist the impulse, Satoru pressed a light, tentative peck to Suguru’s lips. When he caught the subtle reaction—a quickening breath, a slight parting of lips—he repeated the gesture, once, twice, then three times, each kiss tender yet firm, until Suguru reciprocated it. 

Feeling Suguru’s lips freely against his sent a rush of serotonin flooding through Satoru’s system, igniting something. It was a delirious test of their patience, a slow dance of restraint and hunger. Both of them wanted to hold onto this perfect moment, savoring every breath and every touch meant only for them.

“Suguru…” The word slipped out breathless, tinged with a whiny impatience, a raw need that hung heavily in the air, bracing everything yet to come.

Something inside Suguru stirred—a strange, overwhelming wellspring of emotion that triggered him. “Kill me.” He murmured, half in jest, half in surrender.

At last, Suguru crashed his lips onto Satoru, letting go of every ounce of his restraint. He devoured him fiercely, urgently, as if trying to make up for all the moments they’d held back. Satoru’s startled, low moan rolled against his mouth, fueling the fire that burned between them. Their lips moved in a heated dance—wet, urgent, consuming—flavors mingling in a heady rush that ignited a strong will to kiss until they were breathless, until every nerve screamed for more and less, until the world ceased to exist. Satoru’s body writhed beneath Suguru’s weight, but he didn’t push him away. Seeking him, hand pressed on the nape of Suguru’s neck, pulling him impossibly closer. He needed to be pressed against him, to feel every inch of Suguru’s heat searing into his skin, so that his body would remember.

His mouth trailed down Suguru’s jaw, teeth grazing the sensitive skin before returning to the kiss with renewed intensity. Suguru groaned, a low, lewd sound that slipped—raw, unguarded, utterly intoxicating. Satoru seized the moment, tugging gently on Suguru’s bottom lip with his teeth, sucking it softly, claiming him. They moved together in a fevered rhythm, lost in a blazing inferno.

I love you. 

Feeding their hunger, Suguru squeezed Satoru’s hand firmly, a silent anchor in the whirlwind of sensation, before pulling back just enough to catch his breath. Satoru was flushed. He's beautiful. With a sudden surge he crashed his lips to Satoru’s again, harder this time, deeper, drinking in the exquisite beauty of the glorious wreck beneath him.

He had dreamed of this moment for so long, imagined it in hazy, clouded fantasies. But now that it was real, more vivid than he ever dared hope, Suguru didn’t want it to ever end. He didn’t want to wake up from this living dream. This kiss surpassed every expectation, every whispered longing. His hunch had been right—Satoru tasted sweet, addicting, a taste he could crave endlessly, every day, every minute. Suguru craves for the privilege of this closeness, to have it all to himself, if Satoru would allow it. He had to. If not, Suguru would do anything to make Satoru his. Or perhaps Satoru had always been his from the beginning. 

Satoru pants and pulls away from the kiss, leaving a thread of saliva between them. His eyes met Suguru’s, shining with a quiet fulfillment, a smile of pure contentment spreading across his face. He nuzzled into the crook of Suguru's neck, wrapping his arms around him, unable to suppress the gentle chuckles and radiant smiles bubbling up from his chest. His happiness was uncontainable, a beautiful, honest light. 

Suguru nearly protested, missing Satoru already. But when he caught the joy shining so openly in Satoru’s expression, he let it slide, admiring the man before him. Gently, he pressed soft, affectionate kisses against Satoru’s exposed skin, his eyes heavy as he felt Satoru’s breath warm against him, sending chills down his spine. This is everything. 

If this was a duel between them, Suguru knew he would have lost long ago. Regardless of his damaged nature, tremendous emotions, and the perception of unworthiness, Satoru had made it possible for him to accept love—his love—for himself, even as a flawed, broken man. That love was something he vowed to keep alive, even beyond his own death. Satoru would be the living proof of it.

He wanted freedom—the freedom to show Satoru affection without feeling compelled to hide or suppress a single feeling. He wanted to love him fully, to let that love sink deep into his soul, engraving it there with flowers and blood, forever unwavering. 

Suguru felt a sting in his eyes as tears welled up, the overwhelming emotions threatening to spill over. A single tear slipped free and landed on Satoru’s skin. Sensing it, Satoru’s hands immediately cupped Suguru’s face, his brows knitting together in concern. His gaze softened, melting with tenderness as he watched the tears trace gentle paths down Suguru’s cheeks.

“Hey, what's wrong?” Satoru asked, tone laced with worry. “Damn, I know that I'm a good catch but I didn't know it'll make you cry. Should I apologize for being too attractive? beautiful?” He says, trying to uplift his spirits. 

Suguru let out a tiny laugh, having that kind of confidence is no joke. Well, he's not wrong either way. 

“Don’t be cocky, that's not the reason why I have tears.” Suguru scoffed, which made Satoru's grin grow wider. 

“Oh yeah? Is it because of my precious lips then?” Satoru puckered his lips in a teasing manner, Suguru scoffed and captured his lips.

Satoru giggled in between the kisses since it came so suddenly. He elevated his head off the ground and pursued after Suguru’s lips when he tried to draw away to talk. The action caused them to giggle within the kiss, then somehow ended up seated. 

Suguru’s strong, veiny arms wrapped securely around Satoru, who relaxed comfortably in his lap, embraced by the firm yet gentle hold. He mentally cursed, frustrated by the thick layers of clothing the cold weather required—each fabric barrier limiting his access to Satoru’s warm, milky skin, the skin he longed to explore gently and possessively. 

Satoru felt his heart lodged somewhere in his throat, a sensation far more intense than vomiting. Tilting his head at just the right angle, he deepened the kiss, pouring into it every unspoken word, every feeling he struggled to convey out loud.

When their lips finally parted, both were breathless, panting for air. Their foreheads rested against each other’s, eyes closed, holding on tightly as they shared a quiet moment of respite—two souls connected, relishing the closeness before the world intruded once more. 

“So, it's my lips then.” Satoru figured with a teasing glint in his eyes. His words made Suguru laugh. He could do this everyday just to hear his voice responding to him. 

“Maybe.” He shrugged, lightly indulging Satoru on his claims. “I was just overwhelmed, that's all.” Suguru admitted right after, making Satoru gaze at him lovingly. 

“I am so in love with you, Suguru.” Satoru whispered, his voice tinged with a hopeless surrender, knowing that he's in good hands. 

“I know, I am too.” Suguru nodded, “I'm madly in love with you that I stayed awake for you no matter how tired I get. You're the air that I breathe when I don’t recognize myself. And even though it kills me to be apart from you, I know that wherever you are, my soul is with you.”

Suguru grabbed Satoru’s hand as he reached into his pocket deliberately. Satoru’s breath hitched, his eyes fixated on every small movement, heart pounding in quiet anticipation.

“A piece of me should be with you, ‘Toru.” Suguru murmured. His voice is sweet and assuring, something Satoru would like to hear that welcomes him by the door of their shared place. 

When Satoru’s gaze dropped to his palm, gasping, he found an exquisite necklace resting there, crafted with unmistakable care. His eyes traced the silver chain, then the pendant—a button, familiar and intimate, something Suguru owns. Upon closer look, Satoru was quick to notice the initials carved on it: S.G.

“Suguru…” Satoru called, laden with awe, casting an unreadable expression that made Suguru worry. What if he didn't like it? 

But before he could address it, Satoru’s lips curved into a breathless smile, sealing his mouth with his hand to conceal his squeal. “You’re going to make me cry! You’re not supposed to do that on our first date,” He exclaimed, mingling with emotion as he threw himself into Suguru’s arms.

He worried over nothing. 

“We should be kissing, not crying.”

“You sound like an addict. Do you like kissing that much?” Satoru says, side-eyeing him.

“Yeah, so kiss me.” Suguru stated. 

“Getting more greedy, I see..” Satoru whistled, mock-impressed. “Put this on me first, I want to wear it now.”

Suguru nibbled his lip for a second before obeying him. For the sake of the kiss! 

“All good now?” He asked, tracing Satoru's lips with his thumb, eyes locked on it. 

“Yea- mmph!” 

Their lips met and sealed together without complaint, moving instinctively and effortlessly—as if their souls had been searching for one another long before their bodies ever did, waiting patiently since infancy for the moment they could finally bind their lives as one. Suguru pulled back a little, mouthing Satoru’s lips softly, unable to get enough of him. Satoru panted heavily, catching his breath before pressing a quick peck back to Suguru’s lips, steadying himself.

“Suguru, I love you.” 

“I may have said it a hundred times but I truly meant each and every one of them.” Swallowing his trepidation, he took hold of Suguru's pair of hands to say what he needed to know. 

“Before I knew you, my existence had been wearing me out. I no longer recognise myself, I couldn't even recall how long I've been awake. I'm supposed to be strong, strong to get through every hellhole. My life began to take on colors when I met you. 

You see me, Suguru. I felt like a human because of you. Every time you say my name, I feel like I'm in the clouds. 

Remember the first time I got sick because I overworked myself? You took such good care of me and never left my side. You were so worried that I noticed the tears in your eyes. I thought I wouldn't mean that much to you but there you are... scolding me in a gentlest manner, dismissing that I'm a doctor. That was when I realized that I should tolerate my feelings for you. 

I can be vulnerable as long as it’s with you. I don’t have to act all tough. During that, I thought of taking you to the church to marry you. Suguru, you're the one who completed my life. I saved tons of lives yet you're the one who saved mine.”

Satoru’s voice softened as he spoke, “I love you, Suguru. I always do.”

Suguru’s pupils dilated, his entire being hanging on every word that flowed from Satoru’s lips. He was loved—truly, deeply loved—and in that moment, it was more than enough.

“Satoru,” He whispered, voice trembling with emotion, “I love you more than words could ever express. I don’t even know where to begin… How could you love me like this?”

Without hesitation, Suguru pulled Satoru close, burying his face into his shoulder as tears spilled freely. Satoru held him gently, cradling him with quiet strength, listening to Suguru's silent confessions—his home wrapped around his heart like a warm embrace.

“This is just a theory, but what if ever since I got my heartbeat in my mother's womb, It was beating for you?” Ah, Satoru and his weird thoughts. 

“That's a weird ass pick up line, ‘Toru.” 

“It's not? Indulge me in this, I think it's possible.”

“Okay? How exactly?”

“Hear me out-”

And Suguru did. They remained that way for a few, several quiet minutes before finally deciding to head back. The chill of the cold air reminded them it was time. 

Throughout the ride, Satoru's mind was elsewhere lost in thought while Suguru pedaled steadily in front of him. 

Although he doesn't dread death, he fears it now that he has Satoru. He doesn't want to pass away to leave Satoru wondering where the sky will take him. Hence, he hopes to find his way back to his Satoru like his soul does. All he wanted was to remain in the company of the one who made him whole. 

Satoru holds the same sentiments.

And maybe this is it. 

Maybe this is the lifetime they’ve been soughting for—the one the universe finally aligned just for them. Maybe neither of them has to leave, bound no longer by a fixed fate. Maybe there’s no reason anymore. Maybe the celestial beings listened to their desperation, their anguish, and granted them this chance.

Maybe, this time, they can truly cherish one another, making up for all the lost perpetuity. 

Perhaps this time, they're given an infinity ahead of them, and their only possible resolution is to perish with their crimson thread sewn together—unbreakable, eternal.

Two spirits surged across the vast, tumultuous waves—drowning yet undeterred—reaching out, desperate to grasp the other’s hand. No longer must they wither away through endless existence, grieving someone alive but distant, meeting only at airports where one awaits. This time, there is a home to return to, an embrace waiting, and a love that finally blooms without its thorns. 

Their love has a cursed thread, one that bleeds before it blossoms; yet, against all odds, the prophecy has been rewritten.