Chapter Text
Much could be said about the start of their life at jujutsu tech.
Suguru could reflect on how he knew it would be different than life back home, if only by the idea of life in the city being different than his life in the country. He could recall how weirdly empty the school had been as he settled in, and how nice it was to fall into a routine with Shoko first, and then Satoru, when they arrived.
Satoru could put the school as a breath of fresh air. He could recall that he’d argued his way into enrolling, had agreed to every bit of the conditional circumstances that his family had imposed and gone through every step of his genpuku ceremony without protesting. He’d given his word on participating in the mandatory meetings and ceremonials to come, had sat through explanations of the yearly schedule and the talks on his Responsibilities as an Adult Heir of the Gojo Clan with a flat, placid expression. It could be said that he had even been excited for the moment he would be able to walk up the stairs of jujutsu tech, move into his dorm, establish his routine there — though he wouldn’t admit that out loud, if asked. Not then, nor later.
They both could think about how they didn’t expect much from their classmates, though they both did have some hopes that they wouldn’t be horrible and that maybe, just maybe, they would be able to make some friends.
Neither Satoru nor Suguru would have admitted that out loud, either — because that would be lame, right?
*
Neither of them had planned it.
It wasn’t something they’d think about, really. Or something that they had looked forward to, but it had happened, nonetheless.
Falling in love. Satoru for Suguru, and Suguru for Satoru.
Maybe they would picture it differently, years down the line. Age, experience, maturity would allow them a different take on their own lives — but right then, shortly after turning 15, it wasn’t on their minds
Life was simple at fifteen, despite where it wasn’t; they went to jujutsu school, they met each other, they met Shoko. They had classes, they trained. They became friends, all three of them. They went on missions, all three of them at first, until Shoko eventually managed to work her way out of it, and then it was only Satoru and Suguru.
And then it was Satoru and Suguru everywhere, all the time.
It was quite simple and yet infinitely complex. It probably happened sometime, somewhere around there. Probably slowly, creeping up on them, each working their way up and into the other much like the way a wild garden grows, nurtured by life happening around it. When they realized it, it was everywhere.
*
It felt weird for Satoru to be around people his age.
He hadn’t grown up around any children and life in the clan had been quiet and lonesome. He’d always been kind of lonely, kind of quiet not in the way most people imagine a child to be, but in a way that the noise concentrated mostly inside of him and his space. His space was big, though — he had no siblings, he didn’t go to school. The people around him addressed him as a superior, they were subordinate and most times afraid of him and what he represented, even as a small child. He didn’t hold many conversations unless they were happening in his head, even though he sometimes spoke the words out loud in the quiet of his room, or in the gardens of the Gojo property during the rare times he was allowed to wander alone or when he slipped away from the eyes of the servants and tutors.
Satoru would talk to himself, sometimes, hold a conversation about the things that went on in his head. Ask the questions no one would be able to answer to himself. Eventually, he refrained from talking much during the times he was being tutored and Satoru would have described himself as quiet, then.
Until he met Suguru.
Suguru was quiet, even though he had been to school and had held multiple conversations with other people, both adults and kids, other teenagers. Suguru was polite and welcoming even to people he did not know, with his traditional habits and cleanliness and aligned clothes that balanced out his long hair and the studs he wore in his ears. Suguru was always on time and drank tea and said “please take your shoes off, Satoru” when Satoru walked into his room.
He had no siblings, either, Satoru found out one time when they were talking, all the students gathered. Suguru had mentioned it mindlessly when someone (maybe Utahime, Satoru didn’t really remember) had asked.
He was quiet in the way he talked, which was much different from the way Satoru did. He would clear his throat to introduce his speaking, he’d wait his turn and not interrupt people, whereas Satoru would often monologue, disregard other people’s attempts to speak, not pay much attention to what they added to the conversation or listen carefully.
Suguru’s voice was soft and low, though perfectly clear whenever he spoke. He used formal language, especially when talking to the staff or to adults and strangers in general, and he often called Satoru out on his lack of politeness in a way that made Satoru frown because he definitely had not been used to people calling him out, reprimanding him, saying no.
Suguru seemed immune to him and to what he represented, though, and he had no difficulty in doing either of those things. So, he called Satoru out on being rude, on lacking manners, on disrespecting authority… all in his soft, collected voice. Never really reprimanding him as much as orienting him gently. Never making fun or keeping away from Satoru because of his social awkwardness, either, like most people would. After a couple of weeks living around Suguru, Satoru felt like he’d been better educated on how to exist around other people than he’d been in the past fifteen years of his life.
He also made it his personal commitment to disturb Suguru’s perfection as much and as often as possible, just to make their score even.
He touched Suguru as often as possible; tickled his ribs, bumped his shoulder or hip as they walked together. He pressed his knee to Suguru’s leg to break his aligned posture, ruffled his hair until the bun Suguru wore came apart. He blew on the lock of hair that fell to Suguru’s face quite often, causing him to back away defensively at first, brush him away and complain, but Suguru eventually, not long after Satoru started doing it, got used to it, too.
He responded by bumping back against Satoru, pressed their legs together as they sat in class, hooked a finger around the bridge of Satoru’s glasses and tugged it down and off his face unmenacingly.
Suguru was, on his turn, not the slightest bothered by Satoru.
It didn’t fail to amuse Satoru, how unafraid and non-defensive Suguru was around him, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t get used to it quickly. If he said he’d not grown fond of it.
Since Suguru was also unmenacing, almost docile instead, Satoru pulled down his defenses, both literally and figuratively. There was hardly a moment when Satoru was not seeking him, then, and there was hardly a moment when Suguru wasn’t there, either.
Satoru thought it fitting; he would usually watch Suguru for clues, would instantly notice when he started speaking, even when it wasn’t to Satoru himself. Sometimes he would interrupt his own conversation with someone else because Suguru had started to say something and Satoru’s attention would turn instantly to him.
One time he was called out on it by Shoko, — who also put up with Satoru quite well, though not in the way Suguru did — to who he’d been listening to, but immediately ignored the moment Suguru cleared his throat and started to say something to Mei Mei. They were standing several feet away, having two completely different conversations, but as soon as Suguru made his usual throat-clearing gesture, Satoru’s attention had shifted.
“Yo,” Shoko had said, sounding somewhat confused, and snapped her fingers in front of his face once. “Hello? I’m talking to you.”
“Huh?” Satoru had blinked, directing his gaze back to Shoko and adjusting his glasses.
She hadn’t been annoyed at him, then, but had turned her eyes toward where Satoru had been looking, registered Suguru, and then looked back to Satoru. “Hm,” she’d said, something that Satoru didn’t register back then flashing through her eyes before she shook it off and flicked him on the forehead.
Satoru had shrugged and then eventually, almost unconsciously, turned his attention back to Suguru.
It wasn’t eavesdropping, he thought. He tilted his head and rested it on his hand; he watched Suguru’s expression, then followed as his lips moved. Satoru didn’t quite register the words, but the sound of his voice as it carried across the room.
Suguru talked, unaware of being watched until their eyes crossed, all the way from across the room, and he smiled at Satoru. A soft, warm, quiet smile.
Satoru had tried to ignore, then, the way it made his insides twist, the warmth he felt in his chest, and had made a dismissive gesture quickly before averting his eyes.
It would be embarrassing, if they hadn’t gotten so close to each other. If instead of anchoring Satoru, Suguru would lecture him like his family, his tutors or Yaga tried to — but he didn’t.
Suguru guided Satoru through the experiences he still hadn’t had and cast light to the paths that were yet to be walked on, all the while treating him as an equal. There was no fear — hidden or not — no subservience or anything like that in Suguru, so it was really inevitable that Satoru felt completely drawn to him. He held onto the metaphorical hand that Suguru reached out for him with all he had.
They spent all their time together, which was somewhat inevitable because they lived in the same dorm corridor, shared the same common spaces, sat by each other in class. Apart from them, there was only Shoko, which meant that they had to train together almost exclusively, too.
It was also fun, though, because Suguru was also fun. He liked music and videogames and he was a good match, he hadn’t seen many of the movies Satoru liked, so there was also something that Satoru could teach him, something new he could show him.
Satoru didn’t mind spending every waking hour with Suguru, and Suguru didn’t seem to mind it at all, either. So, they did — they waited for each other and walked together to class, shared bentos at lunch, trained and studied together in the afternoons. Satoru sat with Suguru in the kitchen while he cooked, agreed easily to share the other chores with Shoko if Suguru would cook for them as well. Afterwards, they would sit together and watch TV, play videogames, listen to music and talk. Shoko joined them sometimes, but she hung around the second years much more, with them being all girls.
Often, they would talk into the night and it was usually Suguru with his politeness that would retreat back to his room when he deemed it too late, because Satoru honestly didn’t really perceive the time passing when they were together like that. He could sit and listen to Suguru for the whole night and then go to class with him and repeat it day after day.
He didn’t see any harm in it, really, didn’t even stop to think much about it. When Suguru left his room at night, he laid there and stared at the ceiling, listened to the sounds of Suguru getting ready to sleep in the room next door.
The next day, Suguru would sometimes yawn and complain about not sleeping too much, or about taking a while to fall asleep after leaving Satoru’s room even if he’d been sleepy, until one day Satoru stared straight into his eyes and said “sleep here, then, Suguru, you’re already lying on my bed anyway” because what would be the harm in it, really. Satoru thought nothing of it, just shrugged Suguru’s questioning look off and shifted to the side to make more room on the bed. Suguru settled, then, and Satoru had laid awake listening to the sound of his breathing for a long time before drifting off himself, only to wake up the next day and resume.
Satoru settled into this routine rather easily, painlessly adjusting to life at jujutsu tech as the months passed.