Chapter Text
It was quite obvious that Satoru was drunk.
He won’t admit to it, obviously. But his body says otherwise. Sluggish movements, an odd clumsiness to him, and a not so normal clinginess to your arm.
It felt wrong to have Satoru basically at your mercy. You know almost every other girl you knew would go insane if that could see Satoru like this— drunk, not a slightest care in the world for his safety.
It… concerned you just a bit. Does he not care about what could happen to him? He’s lucky that the only bar he likes to go to is run by his friend, Kento, but if he didn’t— who knows what people would do just to even breathe the same air as him.
But here he is, just… drunk. In the bar. Kento must be in the back packing up— so the bar probably closes soon. Satoru doesn’t seem to notice though, still lazily sitting on one of the bar stools.
You count the empty shot glasses in front of Satoru. Five.
You sigh.
Satoru’s always been… a bit weird, at least to you. He’s pretty— you acknowledge that, at least— but, since you’ve been his friend for so long, you look past his looks and just know him as the weird man you’re friends with. And it’s no less apparent when you find him in a bar at one in the morning, drunk off his ass.
In fact— you don’t really know how you got here in the first place. It wasn’t like you had any plans with the white haired man that night— but when Suguru texts you, asking you to check up on Satoru after he hasn’t been home since nine that night, you know you can’t ignore him.
So here you are, standing next to Satoru as he helplessly clings to your arm and whines as you try to get him to stand up. White strands stick to his forehead and his glasses sit lopsided on his perfectly curved nose, but you can’t seem to hate him for this at all.
“I don’t think I can walk,” he complains, silky voice hitting your ears like liquid gold. “My limbs feel like jelly.” He brings up his arm and it flops down, emphasizing his point. You give him a look.
“I don’t want to carry your ass back,” you deadpan. You look at him— he reminds you of a soggy, wet dog. A pathetic one. It’s pathetic. He’s pathetic. “You’re heavy.”
You really, really don’t know what the fuck Satoru is doing right now. In fact, you don’t even know how he hasn’t been kicked out because of his behaviour yet.
He blinks at you with large, blue irises. “Please?” he asks— no, begs— before you slap his cheek lightly.
“No.”
He pouts. “Hah… I think that actually means yes,” he chuckles, pout turning into a grin. “You, ah, will take me home! I can stay the night, right~?”
Is he fucking serious, you think to yourself while eyeing him up and down, taking in his drunken form.
His eyes meet yours, and he tilts his head. “Won’t you let me, my dearest friend~?”
You glare at him, and he smiles— the audacity he has actually shamed you— “No means you’re not allowed to—“
“La la la, I can’t hear you!” Satoru singsongs, interrupting you. His large hands cover his ears, grin on his face. “So it’s a yes?”
You frown. You should. But you’re not sure where he can sleep in your place— it’s not like you have a guest room. He could probably stay on your couch or something.
“… Fine.”
Satoru cheers. You sigh.
Maybe this was a bad idea.
Down a shot, burning brighter than the crowd
Dirty liquor, thick and bitter, from the night we so endow
Right through the guilded streets, rendezvous, a sacred sweet
Pouring on until the dawn beneath the entrance, we’ll meet.
You don’t… remember much of what happened last night— most of it just a blur of something more happening between two friends— something that definitely was unexpected after just a few shots and lots of laughter. (Though, maybe it was expected— you could have just been too naive to have noticed anything more happening between the two of you as of late.)
But when you wake up next to Satoru, naked with love bites scattered over your body, you realize that you should probably hide from Satoru for a while.
He stares at you like you’re a pigment of his imagination.
You blink.
“Did we— oh, no.”
He turns away, cheeks turning into a deep red that your own face shares. “I— I am so sorry— I didn’t think—“
He pauses, still embarrassed. “Please don’t hate me.”
You look at him. “What?”
“Did I hurt you?” he interrupts, eyes meeting yours. Fear adorns his blue irises as they continue to stare into your own, before his hand comes up to cover his eyes. “I— don’t answer that. I already know I did—“
You throw off the blanket and go on top of him, straddling his lap. His eyes widen before his hands grab your waist, stopping you before you can do anything else.
“You didn’t hurt me, Satoru,” you tell him before he can say anything else. When he still looks at you with those fearful eyes, you sigh and press a light, tentative kiss to his lips. “Promise.”
He seems to soften at that. His grip on you loosens, and his head falls back onto his pillow with a thud. “… If you say so,” he eventually agrees after hesitating. “But you better not be lying to me! My eyes will know eventually.”
He grins. You stare at him a bit longer. “You and your weird eye talk,” you sigh, falling back into your own pillow too. “You won’t ever stop talking about that, will you?”
His head turns to look at you. “Nope! I don’t plan to.”
Strayed off from the moonlit path to find our lives and intertwine
Our heartbeats sync in time
Half hearts, combined to transform in the sky.
You and Satoru make it official two weeks later— most of your friends weren’t surprised by the new relationship, just giving a ‘congrats, you finally sorted your feelings out’ smile before doing their own thing. It surprised you the most— the fact that you didn’t realize you liked Satoru earlier. You suspected he already knew you liked him beforehand, because when you confessed your feelings, he just gave you a knowing look and chuckled into his fist.
Your relationship seemed to be going perfectly fine, though. Dates every week, texting each other constantly (not like you didn’t already do that,) and, of course, the sex was great too.
But when the third year of dating him passes around— things changed. Satoru got a bit more distant— just a bit. You realize you’re one of only two people who notice this— Suguru being the only other person. He’s been Satoru’s friend for the longest time, so it’s to be expected that he would eventually approach you about this.
“You’ve noticed too, right?” the black haired man says as you slide into the booth seat at the cafe.
You don’t even have to question what he means. You just nod. “Yeah,” you say quietly. “I don’t know if he’s falling out of love with me or something.”
Suguru’s eyes widen ever so slightly, and he leans in, one hand coming up to wave you off. “No, no. He’s definitely still in love with you,” he confirms. “I’m not sure why he’s doing this though. I tried asking him about it when we were in class the other day, but he kept avoiding the topic.”
Your shoulders drop. “He won’t even open up to his closest friend, huh,” you sigh.
Suguru also sighs. “I, uh, I’ve also noticed that he’s been looking at you a lot recently. Not in like, disgust, but in longing or something. It’s… weird. Almost wrong.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “I don’t like it.”
Your hands interlace on the top of the table. “I… I want to know what’s up. I’ll find a way to ask him, soon enough.”
Suguru nods. “Please.”