Chapter Text
In the lingering chill of late August, the city of New York hums with its usual energy. At the heart of it, NYU buzzes with students returning for another year, faces new and familiar, young and old. Among them are two twenty-year-old men whose paths are about to cross in ways neither of them could predict. Their names? Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto. These two don’t officially know each other yet, but it’s destined for them to meet. Specifically, they meet in their shared fraternity, Pi Delta Psi.
Pi Delta Psi isn’t anything grandeur, but it’s quite a large fraternity. It holds primarily Asian-American students, in which Satoru and Suguru check the box.
Zooming closer into the college, you’d find it’s the first week back. Satoru was well known in the school. He walks into his classes with a big cheesy grin at all times, his eyes blinding anyone who dares to look into them with unexplainable joy. Suguru’s deep purple eyes, on the other hand, would give you an immense wave of dejection and misery. Suguru isn’t as well known in the university as Satoru. It’s not that people don’t talk to Suguru, actually, people do quite often, but he refused to ever engage in a conversation that ran more than two sentences. That’s just how Suguru is wired.
Satoru is eager to become a CEO of some company doing who-knows-what, but Suguru isn’t cut out for the big, office lifestyle like that. While Satoru chose the business line head-first, Suguru cautiously went into the med-line. He ended up landing on psychiatry. Suguru just wants to find a job where he can get paid for helping people without risking their life. He was too scared of becoming something like a surgeon in the case of messing up big-time.
Suguru was always the type to want to save a life. It primarily roots from when he was younger, maybe around 14 years old, when he grew up seeing dozens of innocent people die out each day, all for reasons that weren’t worth that life. Growing up just outside of NYC’s border, he heard many fatal cases. Ones of suicide, ones of discrimination, ones of violence. Seeing things like that since the ripe age of 4 has only further pushed him into an urge to save those lives.
✮✮✮
To give you a little more insight into the lives of these two, let’s start with Satoru. On paper, his family tree is short— just him and his mother. His father’s just a name without a face. Whether he’s dead or alive is something Satoru’s never really known, and truthfully, he stopped asking a long time ago. The rest of his family might as well exist in another universe. The only people his mother tolerates are the Zenins. The reason he doesn’t have any other family isn’t because of some dramatic falling out or tangled history of grudges and betrayal. It’s quieter than that, more intentional. His mother, who loves him fiercely and perhaps fearfully, made the decision early on to shut the door on the rest of their bloodline. She never gave him a clear reason, only vague mentions of protection, of keeping things simple, of doing what’s best.
But even as a kid, Satoru knew it wasn’t just about keeping him safe. His mom carries her own kind of fragility, one that doesn’t always show on the surface, but lingers in the way she locks the doors twice and has those little habits that always keep herself safe. So, Satoru stepped up. He cracked jokes, smiled a little louder, became someone bright enough to distract from the heavy stuff. In some ways, his mother raised him, but in just as many, Satoru’s been quietly raising her too. A protector, even if she’d never ask him to be one.
Suguru, on the other hand, comes from what most would consider a good family. Stable and whole. Still under the same roof, still showing up for holidays and birthdays. He’s got a dad, a mom, a sister, and, most importantly, a cat. The cat, a fluffy white thing with big bright yellow eyes, is named Dragon and mo one really knows why. He just looked like a Dragon the day Suguru picked him out, and that was that. Between his parents and his pet, it’s no competition who holds the top spot in Suguru’s heart. Dragon wins, without question.
Not because Suguru resents his parents, no he doesn’t completely hate them. He actually loves them, in that quiet, reluctant way some people do when affection feels easier left unspoken. It’s just that they argue. A lot. Not about serious things, necessarily, just about everything else. The way his dad leaves the porch light on. The fact that his mom texts him “wake up Sugu” even when he’s already wide awake. The way the volume in his dad’s voice raises when he’s tired. The annoyed expression that his sister always holds. The silence when he’s overwhelmed. Most of the time, Suguru doesn’t mean to start anything. But sometimes when the pressure of life bubbles over, whether it’s assignments, deadlines, or whatever internal storm is brewing, he ends up taking it out on the two people who are always standing closest.
His dad doesn’t make it easier. He’s not a bad father, but he isn’t the easiest man to be around either. He speaks more in judgments than conversations, and rarely with warmth. Most of their talks are brief. Averaging ten minutes, if that, and often laced with disappointment more than curiosity. It’s not cruelty, just distance. A loop of emotional echo that neither of them has ever really tried to break.
Though, his mom, she’s different. She’s the kind of person who’s always believed in Suguru, even when he’s made it hard to. She knows how to wait out the moods. Knows when to talk and when to just sit next to him, letting the silence fill whatever apology he doesn’t know how to say. He doesn’t fight with her often. Can’t. Not when she’s one of the few people who seems to love him not in spite of the hard parts, but because she’s accepted they’re a part of him. That matters. More than he ever says out loud.
✮✮✮
August 31st, Saturday: 10:00 P.M.
Right now, students of Pi Delta Psi are in their rooms, anxious to leave for their first frat of the year. Suguru didn’t really want to go, but a girl named Shoko Ieiri is pushing him to go out and have fun. She’s not part of Pi Delta Psi, she has her own sorority to attend, but she wanted Suguru to have a good night while she’s out. The only reason Suguru agreed is because Ieiri is ‘paying him’ $25.
Ieiri forced herself into Suguru’s life in the first year of college when she found him skipping one of their med-classes. Suguru was trying a cigarette for the first time and failed tremendously . Ieiri obviously found this hilarious, noting that she walks around with a breath of smoke at all times. In some way, Shoko was able to befriend the friendless boy. Suguru doesn’t really have actual friends beside Shoko. He has people he can bear through conversations with, but no one that he can really call his friend like he does Shoko. He knows she already has her own good friends though, so he never tries hard to become her ‘best friend’, as he’s fine without one.
Now, if you look at Satoru currently, he’s in his dorm with four friends, laughing loudly, his fluffy white hair moving away from his eyes as his head throws back with a grin. He’s wearing the classic frat boy attire with his big ol’ jeans. His hair is left messy, but in a way that still looks decent. He’s been anticipating this party for too long to feel anything less than his pure enthusiasm.
Conversely, Suguru is dreading the departure from his bed. He threw on whatever he could find, which was a dark purple NYU hoodie and some baggy jeans, sagging in the slightest to reveal the hemming of plaid boxers in purple around his waist, his belt just there for style. He has black and white Nike Dunks on with his long, dark hair left down.
✮✮✮
As the sun dipped beneath the horizon and bled into a bruised purple sky, a hush seemed to fall over the streets of campus, at least, everywhere except the edge of the fraternity row, where the Pi Delta Psi house sat like a pulsing, living thing. Lights flashed behind its windows, glowing gold, red and blue against the siding like a warning or a welcome depending on who you were. Music, thick with bass and bravado, vibrated the sidewalk, shaking through the soles of passing shoes and thudding against the ribs of anyone walking by.
They came in slow waves, as in members of the frat, friends of friends, stragglers in search of free drinks and familiar faces. Some walked with intention, cutting through the front yard like they belonged there. Others lingered on the sidewalk, hesitating just long enough to be noticed before slipping inside with a forced casualness. The colder edge of the evening wind nipped at exposed skin, tugged at jacket sleeves and hoodies, but the promise of heat, alcohol, and crowd-thick closeness was enough to draw people in.
Suguru Geto stood across the street for a full minute before stepping foot on the driveway. He hadn’t planned to come tonight. In fact, he’d been determined not to, until his old basketball teammates had sent him a text riddled with “come on bro”s and “don’t be lame”s and a final picture of a red solo cup held up triumphantly like some kind of threat, which made Suguru agree to both Ieiri and his former basketball friends. Suguru knew exactly what kind of party this was going to be. It’d be chaotic, shallow, and a waste of time. But he also knew that if he didn’t make at least a few appearances early in the semester, the social noise would only get louder around him— whispers, speculations, and a dumb reputation he didn’t even want. He adjusted his hoodie and stepped up onto the porch.
Inside, the frat house was already suffocating. Music blasted from portable speakers scattered across rooms, bass heavy and clunky like someone was trying too hard to curate a vibe. The air was thick with too many colognes, stale beer, and a faint burn of something smoked in the kitchen. Laughter burst out of nowhere, fast and too loud, while red cups knocked into each other like ritual offerings in strangers’ hands.
Suguru walked in with the kind of expression that shut people up before they even said hi. His lips were pressed together, his brows low and unreadable, and his shoulders were slouched tiredly beneath his hoodie. He looked like he was enduring a punishment rather than stepping into a party. And maybe, in a way, he was.
He made it a few feet inside before he saw him. Satoru Gojo. There was no mistaking him, even if Suguru had never seen him in the flesh before. The stories hadn’t done him justice, or maybe they had and Suguru just hadn’t been paying enough attention. Leaning against a counter in the kitchen like he’d lived there his whole life, Gojo looked like the eye of a storm. His white hair caught the shifting lights and glowed faintly, like it was absorbing the color. A can of beer, already tipped and leaking, sat beside his arm, ignored like a decoration. He was grinning at someone off to the side, animated and radiant in a way that felt almost fictional.
Suguru didn’t mean to stare. But he did. It’s a serious problem that Suguru has, actually. He does this all the time. It was only for a second, but when Gojo’s electric blue eyes glanced over and locked onto his purple ones, just a fleeting look, Suguru snapped his head away. He was already moving toward the side of the living room where a few familiar faces from high school were crowded around a couch.
He didn’t know what he expected from Gojo, but it wasn’t that. It wasn’t the casual confidence, the bright openness, the sense that he belonged to every square inch of the room and knew it.
People already assumed things about Suguru. That he was quiet, cold, maybe pretentious. That he was gay (he’s not, of course he isn’t). Not that he cared all that much, but frat houses weren’t always kind to boys who looked at other boys too long. And Gojo was the kind of boy who made you want to look, regardless of sexuality.
Suguru busied himself with filling a couple cups of beer. One for himself and one for the basketball friend waiting for him in the other room who had invited him here. He kept his head down, focused on the foam rising in the cup. So, when another body moved beside him, he didn’t think much of it, until it didn’t move away.
“My bad, I’m almost done,” Suguru muttered, trying to pour faster.
“No rush, it’s fine. Those idiots have had enough beer already. I don’t think we’ve met.” Satoru grabs a few cups and shuffles them around in his hands as Suguru continues filling his.
“Uh,” Suguru nods. “Yeah. I don’t think we have.”
Blue eyes again, too close this time. Like staring into a camera flash. Gojo’s smile stretched wide, relaxed and self-assured, the kind of smile that probably made people fall in love too easily. His eyes were scary, honestly. A bit intimidating when you’re not one of the girls who fall head over heels when seeing him.
“I’m Gojo,” he said, like it was supposed to mean something. “Satoru, if you’re into intimacy and all that,” He laughs, finding himself to be the funniest man alive.
Suguru fumbled with the second cup, nearly tipping it over. His words rushed a bit, as he wanted to end the conversation. Talking to people who are so… ‘well-known’ isn’t his strongest skill. “Formally, I’m Geto. But, Suguru’s fine too.”
Gojo leaned in just a bit, studying his face with an exaggerated squint, leaning in just a bit too close for Suguru’s comfort. If you can’t tell yet, Satoru has no clue what ‘personal space’ is. “You’ve got some cool ass eyes. Seriously. I’ve never seen purple like that before.”
Suguru chuckled lowly, stepping back until his spine hit the counter. “What— mine? I think I actually got blinded looking into the fucking orbs in your eyes.”
Gojo perked up like he’d just won something. “Ohhh, in a good way though, right?” He tossed a wink like it was spare change.
“Yeah,” Suguru said, lips twitching into a dry smile, “I love retinal damage.” Suguru sets his two cups aside as he finishes filling them.
Gojo laughed, clearly delighted. “Perfect. I’d hate to think I was dazzling people against their will. That would crush me. Absolutely devastate my delicate ego.” He casually topped off the last three cups of his without missing a beat. “I’ll see you, maybe. Goodbye, Geto.” He grins.
Suguru watched him walk away, cups juggling in hands, light on his feet like gravity bent for him.
On one side of the conversation, Suguru believes Satoru is just… Well, Satoru. He’s charismatic, but Suguru also doesn’t know if he’d be able to push through another conversation; not because of Satoru’s personality, but his reputation. Honestly, he likes his personality, but Satoru is so popular and ‘out-there’, so just the thought of talking to him is enough to scare Suguru off. But, Suguru doesn’t think anything is necessarily bad about Satoru. It’s just his overwhelming vogue which makes it hard for Suguru to talk to him.
The other side of the conversation is Satoru’s view on it. The thing about Satoru is he enjoys talking to anyone and everyone . He genuinely was entertained by that exchange of words, even if the exchange was short. But, pretty much the same thing applies for Satoru that applied for Suguru. There’s nothing absolutely horrible or astonishingly amazing about Suguru. At least Suguru’s got personality. That’s better than most at this party.
✮✮✮
Suguru’s one old basketball friend merged into a group and that group had merged with another’s, pulling Suguru along somehow. He really wanted to ditch the group and there was nothing actually stopping him from doing so. He slowly got further and further from the big group, taking subtle steps towards the bathroom. Finally, he went unnoticed and knocked on the door, making sure there was nobody in the bathroom hooking up or taking a shit before he went in. When no one responds, he cautiously pushes the door open, relieved to find nothing but a toilet and sink in there.
Shutting the door behind him, he reaches into his pocket to pull out a cigarette and a lighter. It’s not often that he’ll smoke. He’s very far from addiction, but occasionally, when he feels like there’s too much action around him, he’ll hit one and be done. It’s mainly due to Ieiri’s habits that had rubbed off on him. Just as he was letting the last puff out, there was a knock at the door, causing Geto to jump a bit, coughing on the smoke.
“Hold on, almost done,” He says between coughs as he throws the butt out. Opening the door, he’s once again, for the third time tonight, met with blue eyes.
Satoru takes a long sniff of the air like he’s testing a fine wine, then scrunches his nose. “Jesus, calm on the cigs,” he says with a lazy grin, eyes flicking to Suguru like he’s caught him red-handed.
He steps further into the room, hands stuffed in his pockets. “Anyways, what’s the deal? Hiding out in here to smoke like some tragic loner?” His grin widens. “I promise you, people out there are doing way sketchier things. There’s a guy downstairs trying to do backflips off the kitchen counter and smoking a huff of weed for each one he lands,”
Suguru exhales a slow breath, eyes half-lidded as he leans against the wall. “Just felt like it,” he says. “Too many people out there.”
Gojo raises a brow, tilting his head like he’s thinking really? but nods along anyway. “Yeah… Too many sweaty bodies packed into one place with awful taste in music. I get it. It’s honestly a little terrifying.”
He jerks his chin toward the glass sliding door. “You know there’s a back porch, right? Way less chaotic. You could vibe out there like a mysterious loner instead of a tragic one.”
Suguru glances toward the door, and Gojo catches the look, already half-turning to give him space. “Just sayin’. You’ve got options.”
“I’ll go. Thanks,” Suguru replied, looking out to the door Satoru had gestured to before moving out of the way in order to let Satoru inside, keeping his words short and moving. He didn’t want someone to see him talking to a guy as popular as Satoru. It’s too easy to get roped into these big groups and become involved with people you don’t want to be involved with.
✮✮✮
Suguru heads out to where Satoru had directed him to, stepping into the clear-skied environment, where only a few people were. It was relatively empty. Just a few groups were sitting out on the grass, doing things that Geto couldn’t care less about.
He takes a deep breath of the clean air till his lungs are completely filled, exhaling with relief. For a moment, he just stands there to stare at the sky. Living in New York City means you’ll pretty much never see stars, but Suguru swore he could see one blue flicker up there. Well, right until he hears the familiar voice of Satoru coming outside, then the flicker disappears, coincidentally so.
“Heads up, Geto,” Gojo calls out, swiftly tossing a phone to him. “You forgot this in the bathroom.”
Looking over, he reflexively catches his phone, “Oh. Thanks.”
Suguru shoves his phone into his pocket and takes another good, long breath of the air while Satoru plops down onto the grass, his arms behind him to support the rest of his lengthy body.
“So nice out here— I always forget about this place,” He pats a spot on the grass next to him, looking up at Suguru, “You wanna sit?”
Suguru was hesitant, but now that Gojo had mentioned it, yes, he did want to sit. He was just questioning if he should sit next to Satoru . Y’know, with all the allegations, along with the fact that Gojo is so insanely popular and constantly swarmed with a group of people, all that.
“Ouch, am I that much of a weirdo?” Satoru chuckles, snapping Suguru out of whatever spiral his brain was about to go into.
“No, sorry. I’ll sit,” He says, crossing his legs over into a ‘criss-cross-applesauce’. He may not want to be involved, but he also doesn’t want to be bitterly rude to Gojo, as Gojo has done nothing wrong to him.
A moment of silence is shared, the conversation unknowing of where to go, slightly awkward and slightly tense, but okay. Not completely unbearable. You could hear the sound of crickets chirping and cold hands rubbing together, the wind blowing with a quiet woosh.
“Your hair, woah. It’s really nice. How the hell did you get it so healthy?” asks Gojo, gazing over the black lengths flowing from Suguru’s head as it follows the behind him.
“I’m blanking on the brand, but my mom got me some shampoo and conditioner that’s been working really well. I used to oil my hair but I quickly found out these dorms’ drains are not cut out for hair-oiling.” Geto says with a little laugh, a rare sound for someone so newly met to hear.
“Do you still live on campus? I personally do, unfortunately.” He adds with a sigh, Satoru sitting up now and curling his legs to his chest, his arms resting on his knees.
Geto nods, “Yeah. Optimally, I want to move out by January, but I’ll probably only be leaving in the spring. The problem is a mix of the hunt for a roommate and the moving of belongings.”
Shoko already lives in her own apartment with a cousin, so she’s out of the question for roommates. Suguru also doesn’t enjoy living alone, he finds it almost dystopian in a sense. He’s a lonely person by choice, but also doesn’t like being alone 24/7. His whole personality is pretty contradictory, honestly. His other problem of moving out would be a pain because he just owns too much stuff.
“Really? I would’ve thought you were living in some nice ass apartment already. Is your dorm good at least?” He laughs, his bright blue eyes turning up at the sky, looking as if they were emitting light.
“2-A106…Not the best room but—“
“You’re kidding. That’s literally so close to mine. It’s just a left turn away from my room,” Satoru says with intrigue. “How didn’t I know you before tonight?” That was more of something akin to a rhetorical question, as there’s no definite answer to it or needing for a response, but Suguru didn’t want to leave him hanging.
“I don’t know.. I just don’t get out of my dorm a lot. If I can be in my room I will be in my room.” A second pause in their conversation occurs, feeling just as stiff as the last.
“Are you in the business line or…?” Satoru intentionally trails off.
“I take med. I wanna be a psychiatrist,” Geto adds swiftly. He loves mentioning his career path whenever possible, as it’s one of his few prides.
“Oh. Cooler than me— I just want to be some kind of big-guy being the best in an office. Be rich, retire early, die rich,” He laughs.
“Well, a mindset like that could never fail.” Geto chuckles, “Regardless of my jokes, I don’t doubt you'll be some kinda billionaire in the future, people like you never fail,” Suguru was unsure of what he meant by ‘people like you’ but it meant no harm. He turns his head back up to the sky, gazing at the dark horizon.
Satoru was about to say something in response but one of his friends cut the conversation off, his mouth still slightly open as he looked over at his friend.
“Satoru— where the hell’ve you been? Idiot, we said we were doing beer pong at 1:00, it’s already 1:20. We’ve been looking for you for the past twenty minutes. Dumbass… get up,” The boy says, angling his head back as he takes a breath, most likely because he’s been running around to find Satoru.
Satoru groans, lazily getting up from the grass, “Pong isn’t even that fun anymore. It’s the same old thing with the same old people,”
Satoru looks down at Suguru, “You should join. It’s more fun when we have more people,”
Suguru dithered for a second, “Uh.. I’m not too sure about that. That isn’t really my kinda thing,”
See, this is exactly what Suguru feared. He did not want to get involved in this. Slowly, he’ll find himself in a group of 40 people, and it’s all because he decided to let himself hang around with Gojo. He’s just too popular for Suguru’s liking.
“You’ll be fine— fit in perfectly. Not to mention, there’s plenty of girls who’d kill for a dude like you,” Satoru grins, reaching his hand out towards Suguru to help him up.
Geto grumbles to himself before reluctantly giving into Satoru’s antics. How did I get roped into this? He’s honestly regretting leaving his basketball friends a bit now.
✮✮✮
Heading upstairs, Suguru finds himself chugging his third beer down. He probably shouldn’t, knowing that he’ll probably be drinking even more during the game, but it’s helping him calm the nerves. Once in the room with two big tables on each end, he follows Satoru to whatever table he chose.
A few rounds go by and Satoru is picked to play, dragging Suguru and the boy from earlier along with him. Satoru shoots the first ping-pong ball, the orange sphere dunking into one of the middle cups. The opponent gulps down the beer, cheers and giggles coming from Satoru’s side of the table.
“Geto! You should go. Flex those skills,” Gojo tosses the ball over to Suguru with a smile.
How amazing for Geto. He’s just so eager to play.
“You sure? I don’t know how ‘skillful’ I am to flex anything,” Suguru says, repeatedly bouncing the ball up and down off the floor.
“Just try. Worst thing that could happen is that you drink some beer…Wait, what if you knock over all the cups because you missed. Honestly, I’d find that to be ten times better than making the shot,” Satoru’s grin somehow grew wider, a full set of teeth on display as he steps behind Suguru to let him shoot.
“Gee, thanks.”
Suguru aims for the cup in the front, but instead of sinking it, the ball bounces off the rims of two nearby cups before finally dropping into the one just behind his target. He didn’t get what he intended to get, but at least he got something.
The other team groans and takes their drink of beer, Suguru thankful that he did not make the entire array of cups fall over, a little wave of joy from the mini-crowd around them, the cheer quieter than what Gojo had received but still plenty of noise.
Nudging Suguru with his elbow, Satoru cheers, “I knew you’d be able to get it.”
Suguru shrugs, “Guess I’m just that amazing,” he softly chuckles, tossing the ping-pong ball over to Gojo’s friend, as it was now his turn to go.
Geto isn’t overjoyed to be here, but he’s glad this group isn’t a horrible group. Yes, there’s tons of people who are clearly fake, but his tiny bunch with Satoru isn’t awful. He’s definitely not fully hating it.
✮✮✮
Once the three of them had claimed their victory in that round of beer pong, they were able to be put aside and just watch everyone else play.
Satoru had to drink two beers in the durance of his games, which wasn’t a great thing on his part, due to his lack of ability to drink. He quickly gets red, sweaty, lightheaded, and even more idiotic at the moment he takes in a mere milliliter of alcohol. Most people don’t get drunk off of a quick two beers, but Satoru definitely does.
Suguru had roamed off to an empty corner, feeling more at peace there. Satoru was still at the table, watching the second game go on, but he made sure to ask Suguru if he wanted to stay with the group. But like always, Suguru insisted on being in his own area.
“Geto? That’s your name, right?” A girl says, approaching him with half-lidded eyes.
Suguru looks up from his phone, nodding, “Yeah. Do you need something?”
✮✮✮
I won’t get into specifics, but the girl asked… to do something with Suguru involving lots of vulgarity. Suguru, though, didn’t exactly know how to react. Of course not. So, he rejected her advances, making her angrily yell at Suguru with a breath full of weed. A few slurs and curses were thrown until she tramped her way back down the stairs, Suguru just standing there with a mixing pot of emotion shown on his face.
The reason why Suguru had rejected her offer is because indulging in things like that scared him. He’s hooked up only twice in his entire life; both times being depressed and wasted out of his mind. Plus, he ended up regretting it quickly after. Not to mention, he’s never actually dated anyone before. He’s been asked out, of course, but due to his overly-analytical brain taking over, he has said no every single time. He feels bad about it, but he can’t bring himself to say he’s ready. Ever. More than anything, it’s the fear of messing up that eats him alive. It’s the fear of hurting the other person. Like in instances like these, when he’s asked to hook up, he’s already thinking about the future. What would happen if they became attached? Would he be forced into a relationship he doesn’t want, then end up breaking their heart? To him, it’s better to end things before they get serious.
On the other hand, Satoru has dated two girls in his life, both girls being the one who would break up with him . Satoru rarely messes around in bed, but when it happens, that decision is made logically. For him as well, it’s hard to think of a stable relationship. But, that’s due to a few different reasons, like his father or ex-relationships. The other relationships weren’t horrible, but to him, it hits hard when people leave. He feels that he’s seen too many people leave him already; makes him feel almost unlovable when it comes to something serious. Like everyone only wants him for status— a weapon in the chain of popularity.
Speaking of Satoru on a lighter note, he had found this whole situation with Geto hilarious, as all this had gone down right in the middle of the beer pong room.
He made his way over to Suguru, laughing as the scene replays in his head, Suguru’s confused face stuck on repeat, “That might’ve just been the highlight of my night— wow,”
“Glad to see you find laughability in my inconveniences,”
On that note, two guys called it a wrap for the games and decided to go back outside to get drunk(er) and talk about absolutely nothing and everything all at once, the conversation varying from “why are worms high-key just snakes but stupider” and “what do you think is on the other side of the universe?”.
✮✮✮
September 1st, Sunday: 1:03 A.M.
“Geto, I want a fish.”
“So do I, honestly.”
“I don’t know how to take care of them though.”
“I don’t either— that’s why I don’t have one… yet .”
“We’ll figure it out then, go to PetSmart or something.”
“Yeah.”