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Life wasn't always easy.
As a jujutsu sorcerer, Suguru knew that better than most, and yet, as a sorcerer, he was expected to take whatever life threw at him and keep walking. There was a time when he knew how to do that, when he could turn a blind eye to the horrors plaguing the world. However, the death of Riko Amanai left a hole that Suguru didn't know how to fill. Anything he put in came pouring back out, his heart growing heavier with each passing day.
In the end, her death meant nothing—just another tragedy in an ongoing war. Two weeks had barely passed before Suguru and Satoru were given new missions, having received nothing more than a slap on the wrist for their failure. From there, it became mission after mission, with seemingly no end in sight, not with new curses being born every minute.
With every new mission—every new day—it grew harder for Suguru to drag himself out of bed. As a result, Suguru let himself go. He barely ate, just enough to keep himself going, and no longer cared about his appearance. His hair, which he once prided himself on, was a greasy mess of tangles and split ends. If all he was good for was exorcising cursed spirits, what did it matter? So long as he completed his missions, no one cared.
Well, that wasn't entirely true.
Shoko had taken notice of the bags under his eyes and the way his clothes hung too loosely on his body. Although she never confronted him directly about it, Suguru felt her gaze linger when he'd force himself to eat a few bites at lunch. The bitter voice in the back of his head told him it was just her doctor side taking over—whatever made him feel less guilty when he ignored her questioning glances.
Then there was Satoru.
Most days, it was as though that horrid mission had never happened. Satoru would go about his day as usual, honing his techniques, going on missions, and walking around with that goofy grin of his plastered on like some sticker. He continued to tell his god-awful jokes, which Suguru forced himself to smile through, and would try to make plans with him and Shoko to hang out after school. Suguru always came up with some excuse not to go.
When he wasn't at the beck and call of the higher-ups or dragging himself around the school grounds, Suguru would hole himself up in his dorm room, his phone shut off. The silence made it hard to keep his thoughts from twisting and turning—the sight of Riko's lifeless body wrapped in white linen seared into his brain—but Suguru convinced himself it was easier to handle. Especially on days like today, when the thought of facing reality proved too much.
It was already well past noon, yet Suguru remained curled up in bed, his comforter pulled tight around his body. Despite the warm sun that painted his walls, Suguru shivered involuntarily, a faint tremor never leaving his hands. Suguru was tired—he was tired a lot lately, of so many things.
There were times when Suguru wanted to ask Satoru how he could keep fighting. If he didn't believe in fighting for the weak, then what motivated Satoru to keep going when things got bleak? After what those non-sorcerers did—after witnessing them rejoice in the death of an innocent girl—Suguru had come to question everything he once believed. The world he once thought he knew was changed irreversibly, and he didn't know where to go from there.
Why did I become a jujutsu sorcerer in the first place? What's the point of pushing myself so hard when nothing I ever do truly matters?
Burying his face in his pillow, Suguru tried to stop the torrent of thoughts plaguing him, just for a little while. Sleep, the kind undisturbed by horrific nightmares, was rare and something he so desperately needed. Suguru wasn't stupid; he knew he couldn't keep going like this forever. One miscalculation or too slow a reaction was all it would take for his life to be cut short.
That is, if his body didn't give out first. Unfortunately, sleep would not come easily, as life had something else in mind for him that day.
He had just managed to relax, his mind quieting from a hurricane to a persistent buzz, when there came a soft, yet insistent knocking at his door. Lifting the comforter over his head, Suguru prayed that if he ignored them long enough, whoever it was would get the hint and leave him the hell alone. Only, the knocking didn't stop, and Suguru could feel the beginning of a headache forming.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Suguru took a deep breath before tossing the comforter aside. In one swift motion, he threw himself out of bed, only to promptly regret it as his vision swam in and out of focus. Catching himself, Suguru waited for his vision to clear before storming over to the door. He threw it open, his mouth moving faster than his brain.
"What the hell do you want?!"
Hand still raised to knock, Satoru stood in front of Suguru, his blue-tinted shades pushed up onto his head. Satoru's bright blue eyes were blown wide in shock—not that Suguru could blame him. It was rare for Suguru to lose his temper, much less yell like that. Yes, he argued, snipped at, and got fed up with Satoru at times, but he couldn't recall the last time he'd yelled at him.
Struck by guilt, Suguru went to apologize, but was abruptly cut off by Satoru shoving a plastic bag into his chest. He scrambled to catch it as Satoru practically shoved his way past into the room.
"What are you—"
"Wow," Satoru gave a low whistle as he looked around Suguru's room. "When was the last time you cleaned up around here? This is worse than my room, and I never clean! Like, ever!"
Suguru wasn't sure if he should be angry or embarrassed. His room was a mess—scratch that, a total disaster. Dirty clothes were strewn around the room, piling up on the floor, draped over his desk chair, and even tangled up in his bed sheet. His desk and nightstand were covered in a layer of dust, which Satoru of course just had to run a finger through. He grimaced before shaking the offending finger.
"I've been…busy," Suguru lied.
"Busy? Doing what?"
Although Satoru's question sounded innocent enough—his friend likely more curious than anything—Suguru couldn't help but feel defensive. That voice spoke up again, accusing Satoru of judging him, of looking down on him for letting himself go. Deep down, he knew it wasn't fair, that it was his insecurities getting the best of him.
Instead of answering his question, Suguru asked, "Why are you here, Satoru?"
"'Cause you've been ignoring me all day!" Satoru complained, pouting as he held up and waved around his phone for good measure. "It's already bad enough that Shoko ignored me in person; now my best friend won't even so much as text me a 'hey' back! I was seriously beginning to worry that you died on me or something!"
"Well, as you can clearly see, I'm not dead, so if that's all—"
"Are you seriously kicking me out right now?" Satoru looked well and truly offended. "And after I went through the hassle of getting you your favorite dish from that little ma and pa shop you love so much. You know, they weren't even open today. I had to bribe them into making that special for you!"
That was a complete lie—Suguru knew for a fact that they were always open on the weekend, as it was his favorite time to go. Still, it meant that Satoru had taken time out of his day to travel there, as it required a two-hour train ride each way. He may have had other reasons to go there, but Suguru hadn't recalled hearing about any such plans. Regardless of how many times Suguru turned him down, Satoru never stopped inviting him.
Glancing inside the bag, Suguru knew he'd lost the second he laid eyes on the container of zaru soba. His stomach let out a growl that he damn well knew Satoru heard, given that shit-eating grin he wore. Satoru was a lot smarter than most people gave him credit for. Turning down an entire trip was one thing, but having his favorite dish delivered right to him—how could Suguru possibly say no? With a heavy sigh, Suguru accepted his defeat.
Forgoing his desk, Suguru opted to sit cross-legged on the edge of his bed, the tray of zaru soba nestled safely in his lap. Satoru waved away his offer to share, claiming he'd eaten on the way over. That, Suguru knew, was not a lie. Anytime the three of them would grab food to bring back, Satoru would scarf his down on the train, only to help himself later to Suguru and Shoko's.
His hunger finally getting the best of him, Suguru dug in, barely paying Satoru any mind as he wandered about the room. Satoru was always moving around, barely able to sit still for more than a minute, so Suguru didn't think anything of it. It wasn't until Satoru came over and snatched an old shirt off his bed that Suguru finally took notice of what he was doing.
Noodles hanging from his mouth, Suguru watched in disbelief as Satoru gathered up his dirty clothes and dumped them into a hamper. A particularly nasty shirt made Suguru physically cringe, the thing stiff as a board, as Satoru casually tossed it in with the rest. For someone who never even bothered to clean his room—not that it needed any cleaning—Satoru seemed surprisingly unbothered about doing something Suguru should have been able to do himself.
"You know you're supposed to eat the noodles, right?" Satoru jested, smirking when Suguru slurped them up. That smirk was quickly wiped from his face when Suguru nearly choked on the noodles. "Eat, not choke on them!"
"Right—m—y bad!" Suguru managed to sputter out in between coughing. When Satoru moved to come over, Suguru waved him off. "I'm fine, go back to—whatever it was you were doing."
With a dramatic roll of his eyes, Satoru resumed cleaning up Suguru's room, much to his embarrassment. Leave it to him to completely forget what it was Satoru had been doing when he said that. Too tired to argue about it, Suguru let him be as he finished his food, something he hadn't done in…he doesn't even remember how long. Most food those days tasted the same—bland.
When he was done, Suguru set the tray on his nightstand and watched as Satoru cleaned up his desk. Once used religiously for his studies, the desk had become nothing more than a glorified junk holder. Suguru didn't see the point in keeping it all tidy. The last time he paid that desk any attention had been weeks ago, when Suguru used it more as a napping spot than an actual desk.
Resting his head in his hand, Suguru closed his eyes as he thought about the last time he managed to sleep for more than an hour. Despite how exhausted he was, getting some much-needed sleep wouldn't be as easy as scarfing down a helping of noodles. Even if Satoru hadn't stopped by, Suguru doubted he'd have slept very long—maybe enough to carry him through his next mission, whenever that—
Suguru's eyes flew open as his hair was yanked sideways, eliciting a hiss of pain. Whipping his head around, he was startled to find Satoru now seated on the bed beside him, a section of Suguru's hair in one hand and a brush in the other. From what Suguru could see, a decent portion of his hair had already been brushed out. Despite still being in desperate need of a wash, the brushed-out sections already looked far more lively.
Satoru smiled sheepishly when their eyes met. "Sorry, didn't realize I'd snagged a big one there!"
Suguru couldn't help but stare, too stunned to speak. Satoru was…brushing his hair. Suguru didn't know what to think. Sure, Satoru had played with his hair plenty of times, particularly while bored in class, but he had never brushed it before. Of course, Satoru had never seen Suguru's hair in such a hideous state before.
Taking his lack of objection as a go-ahead, Satoru continued, taking his time untangling the mess of hair as painlessly as he could. While he wasn't exactly opposed to it, Suguru couldn't help but note how oddly intimate it felt. The way Satoru gently ran his fingers through his hair after carefully brushing out the knots sent faint shivers racing down his spine. When he brushed out the knots near the nape of his neck, Suguru felt his face flush as Satoru's fingers brushed against his skin.
As Satoru continued carding his fingers through his hair, Suguru's eyelids drooped, his exhaustion growing harder to ignore. Maybe if he were lucky, he could get some sleep after all.
"There, all done!" Satoru announced, his tone rather prideful.
Suguru hummed in acknowledgement as he struggled to keep his eyes open. Satoru leaned forward to get a good look at him, those little white caterpillars on his face scrunching together.
"Hey, Suguru?" Satoru asked, earning another hum. "Know that I say this with nothing but love—you look like shit. Like, a raccoon that hasn't showered in a week, shit. On the bright side, at least you don't smell like one!"
That…should have been insulting, and Suguru would undoubtedly give Satoru a piece of his mind later for his lack of tact, but for the time being, his best friend was rewarded with an amused snort. Raccoons weren't even native to Japan and caused a hell of a lot of problems, but…they were kinda cute. Suguru doubted he was as cute as a raccoon. He could sure as hell cause a lot of problems, though.
Satoru smiled at him, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a way that always made Suguru's heart flutter. It was one of those rare times when Satoru's smile was genuine, lacking its usual mischief or guardedness. Suguru never understood how to make him smile like that—he wished he knew.
"Come on." Suguru watched as Satoru shuffled back toward the wall before fixing Suguru's pillows. "You, my exhausted friend, are in desperate need of some beauty sleep. Not that it can do much for that greasy hair of yours, but we can work on that once you've gotten enough shut-eye."
For the first time in a while, the thought of going to sleep didn't seem all that dreadful. Maybe it was just his body and mind finally hitting their breaking points, but either way, Suguru wasn't about to let the opportunity slip through his fingers. With a sigh, Suguru flopped face down onto his pillow, one arm hanging halfway off the bed. He didn't even bother with his comforter, too damn tired to care as he closed his eyes.
The room fell silent as Suguru skirted along the edge of sleep for a few minutes, his mind still struggling to let go and sleep. With the quiet came the flood of thoughts threatening to drown him once more. He was about ready to call it quits when he felt the bed dip behind him, reminding him that he wasn't alone.
To his surprise, Satoru started playing with his hair. He carded his fingers through Suguru's hair, lightly scratching his scalp as he gathered up small sections before twisting them into loose, messy braids. It was like a balm to Suguru's brain, the dark thoughts gradually fading as he focused on what Satoru was doing—on the way his head tingled pleasantly with each brush of his fingers.
That feels nice, Suguru thought as weeks of tension faded away, the final string snapping.
- - -
The next time Suguru opened his eyes, the late afternoon sun had given way to dusk. Suguru's brain felt like mush, the sweet haze of sleep threatening to pull him back under. Something warm and comfortable was draped over him, Suguru figuring that Satoru must have tossed his comforter over him before leaving. That is, until he felt warm breath ghosting across the nape of his neck.
Suguru turned his head just enough to catch sight of a familiar mop of white hair. Satoru's face was hidden—nestled in Suguru's hair—but judging by his slow, even breaths, seemed to be sound asleep. What Suguru thought was his comforter turned out to be Satoru's body pressed against his. One of Satoru's arms was draped across Suguru's waist, while his long legs had become tangled with Suguru's.
Had he not felt like death warmed over, Suguru might have cared—maybe even had the decency to feel embarrassed, but at that moment, all Suguru felt was completely at ease. Lying his head back down, Suguru closed his eyes, the subtle scent of vanilla and mint tickling his senses as Satoru nuzzled into his neck.
Life wasn't always easy, but moments like those made it all worth it.