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Something isn’t right.
Even though the birds are singing and the sun leaks through his blinds, something is fucking wrong.
A sharp tug inside his stomach, pulling a searing pain from his organs and forcing him to roll over. Satoru groans and clutches at his abdomen, feeling the urge to go to the bathroom, the kind where he’s unsure of which side of his body sickness will come from. The last red flickers of his alarm clock catch his eye, the remnants of a dying battery he forgot to change for too many days in a row, and shit–he’s late. Shallow breaths swirl inside his chest and leave in minuscule puffs as he pushes himself off the blankets, his limbs feeling like they’ve been dipped in cast iron. He questions his mental health lately and digs in a used laundry basket for one of his uniforms.
The shirt smells a bit musty, but he manages to spray some bath mist Shoko abandoned during a sleepover onto the odor, and it sorta works because it’s been there long enough to degrade to the alcohol base. He sighs, not leaving his bed, squeezing his eyes shut when the collar of his uniform scrapes over the bridge of his nose. Satoru finds himself still unable to muster enough energy to actually stand and retrieve a fresh pair of pants from his closet, instead opting to slide another used pair over his aching legs as he sits. He has to get up anyway at some point. It’d be so stupid to call in sick from class just because he’s sleepy. When he was in the depths of a depressive episode a few months ago, Suguru was the one to help him show up to class on time, guiding him to get ready and cooking him breakfast every morning until the fogginess lifted from his eyes.
Satoru smiles, and the world becomes slightly sharper. Many minutes later, he rises and sluggishly moves to the hall.
This makes sense. He’s tired, but he got ready, and now he’s walking to class like normal.
Last night, he phased into his room after a lengthy mission. He shoved sweet junk into his mouth, scattered the wrappers everywhere, and then passed out from a bone-deep exhaustion. He didn’t care if one of the candies was a bit loose in its shell.
Maybe it’s poison, he considers. The thought flees when the floorboards stretch in his vision, merging with the lights and residue of curses in his six eyes to make a queasy blend that sends him spiraling. The haze spreads like ink on wet paper, until he’s blinded by a neon sky that quickly fades to a sad, plain blue, shifting hues wherever he glances. Satoru’s ribcage accidentally expands into a full, panicked breath, clarity striking him when he realizes that there’s nothing against his face. He turns to walk back into the school–
Wait, sunglasses–
He never came out of the school–
He never went in–
Never left his room–?
He throws his head back to gaze at the glowing clouds. Fluffy, just like his hair. White, like his hair. Suguru loves touching his hair, and he loves touching Suguru’s hair.
A hand smacks him out of looping thoughts. He huffs, swatting back with the same hand he had just used to hit himself. Oh, shit. Something is wrong. Something is wrong.
He looks for Suguru.
Something is wrong, so he runs with his painless muscles. He’s breathing, probably. A wave of relief makes him exhale a breath he knows he has, hopefully, bathing under a pool of shade. He misses a breath, and his heart misses a beat.
He jolts when something touches his front, hands flying up in a clumsy scramble. For a blink, he’s sure it’s some ghost reaching for him, the thought half alive and slipping away—until the steady buzz in his pocket tethers him to sense. A phone is in his hand, so he opens it and presses green because green means good, and he’s been taught that since he was a child. He sways on his feet, watching weeds move with the wind, getting nervous about a possible snake being in there as the sky gets dark.
“Satoru, hey,” a murmur over the line.
Satoru smiles and doesn’t know why, but Suguru is here. “Hi!” he chirps out, stumbling against a tree trunk, rough bark darkening his hands.
“How are you, love?” Suguru’s sweet, beautiful voice asks.
Satoru nods, sitting in the wet grass because he can’t remain straight. “Good!” he replies, unable to muster anything else, overwhelmed by the adrenaline coursing through his veins. His hands are shaky, but he flutters them excitedly because Suguru!
A soft hum. “Yeah? That’s good. I’m hearing something in the background, and I can’t exactly find you, sweetie. Wanna tell me where you are?”
“School,” Satoru says past the blur of his own thoughts, the word fraying in his mouth.
“Where in the school?”
“M’dunno,” he whines, a moisture pressing into his eyes. Suguru is pissed at him, isn’t he? He can’t answer anything, and he’s just a dumb rock–
“It’s okay. Hey, it’s okay,” Suguru mutters lowly, “Take a deep breath for me, ‘Toru. You’re alright, hm?”
Faintly, he gets the impression that Suguru wants him to repeat an affirmation, “Okay. I… mhm,” he breathes, voice distant, with a dreamy lilt that signals that he’s not entirely tethered to this realm anymore.
“Good job, sweetheart. I’m so proud of you,” Suguru says, and he sounds genuine.
Satoru squirms where he sits, uncomfortable from the slight chill that has come upon his surroundings. He squeezes his own hands and brings them to rest on his sternum, shivering even against the mildly warm contact. He shifts his legs closer to curl into them, creating a bubble of relative heat. “Suguru?”
“I’m still here, sweetpea. Just talkin’ with Shoko.”
“Shoko?”
“Hey, Satoru,” she says. “Can you flare your cursed energy?”
“U-Uhm,” he whimpers, the sunset’s light becoming piercing. “Shoko?” He rocks back and forth.
“Yeah?”
“M'scared,” he whispers, unable to prevent the sensation of his eyes rolling because everything is distant and his limbs aren't his—
“Good job. We've got you. We know where you are,” Suguru says.
Satoru's eyes gleam. He doesn’t understand what exactly he did right.
He waits. Talks to Suguru in the darkness. Waits more.
“What's wrong with me?” Satoru wonders meekly, eyes flickering towards the towering shadows. He doesn’t want an answer, truly, just for Suguru to stay.
”Shoko’s gonna check on you when you get back, okay?” Suguru speaks, his soothing tone prevalent over the audio clutter of the phone line. “You’re just a little off, sweetheart. You’re talking to me, so just breathe, alright?”
Satoru whimpers and breathes. He breathes again. “When are y’gonna be here?” he mumbles, arms crossed and clenching to keep the chill out.
Suguru possibly responds, but it’s severely distorted.
“Suguru?”
Satoru’s world becomes static when Suguru doesn’t respond. The stars warp into shiny streaks, and the moon melts into a—
A curse—?
A harsh, shuddering flinch ripples throughout his frame, causing him to jump to unsteady feet and bolt. Hanging limbs and large weeds scratch at his exposed hands, and he gets tangled in a bundle of thorns. They prick into his uniform, hooking, and he fights with all the physical strength he can muster.
A grating sob rips from his throat, and infinity goes haywire. A sudden, free space lifts from his skin, much farther than usual. He collapses to the ground, rolling onto his back. His pupils lock onto a blur. His fingers retract to fire blue, gliding into the familiar position.
“Satoru!”
His arms fall with a choked whine.
“Look at me, baby, look at me,” a figure he registers as Suguru is in front of him. A stained black blob that’s moving, shifting with the night.
Satoru scoots from the soothing words, shaking his head. “N-No, Suguru—c-curse,” he wheezes under the cacophony of crickets, leaves blowing, his own heart.
“It’s my dragon, Satoru. I’ve got control. You’re safe.” Suguru crouches.
”R-Really?”
“You’re safe. See? Just me and you. It’s alright,” he murmurs.
Satoru can’t help but hiccup miserably, shaking his hand in a weak attempt to make the throbbing stop. “I don’t— don’t understand,” he cries, kicking his foot into a nearby tree trunk with frustration flaring in his chest. His sole collides and sends extra pain signals that snap him to clarity a little.
He does it once more, but a grunt from Suguru shoots past his ears. He just hit his world.
Satoru goes limp immediately, a sinking dread cutting down his spine. “S’guru,” he mutters. Infinity becomes compliant, if only to access that warm touch on his ankles.
”You’re okay, sweetheart. I’m fine. You’re doing such a good job,” Suguru rumbles, laying his trembling legs into the grass and trailing up his body. He is then at Satoru’s abdomen, leaning over him with that gorgeous face as it comes into focus. “Did you hurt your hands? Let me see?”
Satoru pushes himself up, gasping from the burning in his palms. Pain is a strange concept when he’s constantly healing himself.
Suguru takes both his hands gently. “You must be so tired, baby. Wandering around like this,” he mumbles, inspecting by rolling his thumb over Satoru’s palm tenderly to find the sites of hurt. “You’re scraped up… Will you let me pull a couple of things that are poking you?”
Wandering? Poking him? Satoru swears that it was morning just before he got ‘lost’, and that there’s a knife stabbing him.
”S’a knife,” he says, argumentative and uncomprehending.
Suguru makes a surprised sound. “A knife? I promise I’ll be gentle, hm?”
Satoru nods, despite perceiving a hint of sarcasm, but genuine love. His face scrunches, and he shifts when three pricks hit his skin. “Ow.”
”You’re so sweet.” Suguru takes him into a hug, and Satoru melts.
”Where’s Shoko?” he asks.
”I’m gonna lift you,” Suguru warns in a hushed tone, kissing into his hair. “Shoko’s got you all set up for when we get back.”
Satoru witnesses the ground fall as he’s carried. “She left me with you?”
“Good to know you’re still with me,” Suguru responds passively, huffing.
”I love you,” Satoru tries. He doesn't want to be hated.
Suguru fails to suppress a smile. “I love you too. You’re not nauseous, are you?”
Satoru shakes his head. His body picks this time to go silent when a wave of anxiety claws its way into his throat as they get closer to Suguru’s curse. Something’s still wrong. He squeezes his arms around Suguru’s shoulders twice.
”Wanna tell me?” Suguru murmurs.
Satoru shakes his head and burrows into him. He feels Suguru’s hands tighten as he supports his weight, getting onto the dragon. It’s too shiny for Satoru’s eyes.
The entire ride, he's kept his face buried in Suguru's shirt, and he doesn't know how much longer he can take it. Tears leak from the corners of his eyes, and he tries not to reveal that he's about to break down again. It's so stupid. Suguru never cries about stupid stuff like Satoru does.
Damn it all when Suguru inevitably glances down at his shirt getting soaked.
Satoru waits for a response that makes him feel guilty because he doesn't deserve the comfort.
There's nothing.
Nothing but a solid hand, brushing through his hair to save him the embarrassment. The comforting pressure on his back. He inhales, fighting another surge of emotion welling in the back of his eyes.
They land, and it's a swift transition to getting Satoru situated in Suguru’s embrace. His stomach lurches as it adjusts to gravity again, and he tries not to tremble against Suguru.
“Time to see Shoko, baby,” Suguru whispers, “You wanna stand?”
“No,” Satoru replies softly. He sighs against Suguru’s neck.
Suguru kisses into his warm hair, humming his acknowledgement. “That's okay, sweetie. We're gonna get you all fixed up, hm?”
“Dunno what's wrong,” Satoru says, and Suguru nods, continuing to pet his snowy locks.
They both look up to see Shoko barreling towards them. Her hair is admittedly a wreck, and she walks with long, quick strides. Her clacking shoes cause Satoru to get a little nervous.
“Inside. I've got everything ready,” she says, apparently desperate to grab Suguru's hand and tug them both towards the medical room. They go quickly down the hall and into the white room, the lights pre-dimmed for Satoru's comfort.
Shoko pins her hair back, then washes her hands and slips on a pair of gloves. Satoru is distracted by the motivational posters on the wall as he gets seated, with Suguru's help, comfortably on the medical bed.
“Alright, Toru, let's give you an exam. There's gonna be no needles or sharp objects, okay?” Shoko murmurs, brushing away his bangs. She glances down to where he holds Suguru's hand. “Hold Suguru as much as you need and tell me if anything hurts.”
She begins with his eyes, having him follow her fingers, until he huffs and looks away because it burns. Her brows furrow more and more throughout the process.
Shoko retrieves an antiseptic. “How have you been feeling lately?”
Satoru scrapes the back of his heel under the exam table. “Fine.”
“Are you tired right now?” Shoko changes her tactic to the present moment.
“Dunno.”
“Can you tell me what happened today?”
“No,” he whispers.
“Is the world real to you?”
Satoru blinks.
What?
Shoko shifts her weight to another foot. Satoru probably breathes, but he hasn't been sure at all today. The air is still.
“Do you know why you're sitting here?” she rephrases.
Satoru stares down to make sure he's sitting. Then he remembers that Suguru is beside him. Suguru is holding his hand. He's…
Brain fog. That's it. “Sorry,” he murmurs, stretching his arms, “M'a bit fuzzy.”
Shoko watches with a keen, medical eye as his arms sink and waver mid-stretch. She hums. “Your arms hurt?”
Satoru shakes his head. “Heavy.”
“Suguru. I'm going to try RCT on anything that may be wrong with him, and you watch for cursed energy, okay? Whatever his body is doing, it doesn't seem to be working,” she says, setting the antiseptic aside to go ahead and unbutton Satoru's uniform.
“I understand.” Suguru immediately stands, keeping Satoru's sluggish attention for a brief moment.
Satoru fixates on a white painted brick in the wall directly across from him. It's a little bright—
Sensation floods into his eyes until he's screaming, nails raking toward his face even as he's restrained, the world sharpening too much all at once. Hyperventilating gasps rip from his throat, agony sharpening its blade against his spinal cord, letting out spindles of cursed energy that attempt to wrap around his throat. Another voice, screeching and dark, pierces the air. It’s coming from his own body, Satoru realizes past the enormous black puddle forming in his vision.
Suguru sculpts the curse that had just been torn from his body into a sphere, trapping the damned thing in its prison of misery. It releases a high-pitched roar, a multitude of voices coming from its little body as it seeks to escape the orb.
Suguru glares at it with repulsion. He's not going to use this curse because it hurt Satoru.
He shapes his palms around the parasitic thing and crushes it, sending its meager yet malicious cursed energy dissipating into the air.
Satoru is left panting, palms pressed against his eyes, chest heaving. He slowly spreads and lowers his fingers, keeping his eyes shut. “Suguru?” His voice keeps a normal cadence and remains clear. “This is real, right?”
Suguru immediately brings him into a hug, petting his disheveled hair. “Yeah, sweetheart, I'm here. This is real. I promise.”
Satoru nods. He complies when Shoko motions for his arm. She places a blood pressure cuff a few inches over his elbow, then puffs the cuff until she can hear his heartbeat fade in and out, then records both numbers.
“I feel a lot better,” Satoru mumbles, shifting uncomfortably.
“That's good,” Shoko responds, writing down with one hand. “Your blood pressure is fine, your pulse is fine, breathing is good… I think you're okay.”
“Everything was really weird,” Satoru mentions, his eyes flitting between Shoko and Suguru. “Are we just gonna ignore what that was?”
“Exactly what I was going to bring up now, Satoru,” Shoko says, moving to rest both her hands on Satoru's shoulders. “It was a parasitic curse. You've been tired recently, hm?”
Satoru nods, a little sheepish. “Y-Yeah. But… how'd it get past infinity? I... "
“It didn't. It attached to your spine after being created from your emotions. You've been carrying negativity, and it grew, then stunted your abilities until it reached a peak. The breaking point was today. That's the only explanation.”
Suguru fixes flyaways in his hair. “I was worried when you didn't show up for class. Not even a text.”
“Sorry.” Satoru's eyes go downcast.
“You're okay, sweetheart,” Suguru murmurs, leaning in to hug him, tucking Satoru's head protectively against his neck. “Me and Shoko will keep you safe.”
“Extra vigilance for my patients,” Shoko says, patting his back.
“Thank you.” Satoru closes his eyes, and his spine feels less tense.