Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

‘ ♫ You're ripped at every edge but you're a masterpiece,
And now you're tearing through the pages and the ink,
Everything is blue,
His pills, his hands, his jeans,
And now I'm covered in the colors,
Pulled apart at the seams,
And it's blue,
And it's blue,
Everything is grey,
His hair, his smoke, his dreams,
And now he's so devoid of color,
He don't know what it means,
And he's blue,
And he's blue,
You were a vision in the morning,
When the light came through. ♫ ‘

Suguru sat at his desk, the soft light of a lamp being the only light to illuminate the quiet workspace. His hand stayed tangled in the locks of his long black hair, the other holding a pencil that he didn’t need to sharpen.

His desk was a mess, his papers and supplies scattered across the dark wood. He didn’t bother cleaning it up.

End of term was coming soon and Suguru had yet to start on his senior project.

He simply couldn’t find inspiration.

He used to be able to. What happened?

Getou Suguru, final year of college, arts major.

Creating gave his life meaning, it filled the emptiness in his soul which ached in his chest for as long as he knew himself. Now, whatever he made only burdened and ripped him apart at the seams.

Nothing was right.

Writing, painting, sculpting— whatever he made wasn’t good enough. It felt lifeless and bland, just as soulless as him.

He shifted in his seat, letting his hair fall loosely at his shoulders as he tugged at the hair tie on his wrist. He’s been awake for far too long, three empty cups of coffee imprinting themselves on the edge of his desk.

His eyebags have gotten darker, he hadn’t bothered to change from his outside clothes, just sat at his desk— stayed there for hours, desperate for a drop of inspiration. A single thought, a small spark, anything to light up the darkness swirling in his mind.

Instructions helped, someone telling him what to do makes it easier to focus; they give him more time to work and less time to think.

But life doesn’t come with instructions.

Maybe it would’ve been easier had he picked a STEM major, something concrete, something with rules, certain boundaries that didn’t always need crossing. Art didn’t have those. The best art was made from raw, unfiltered emotions, risks to be looked upon and taken.

He used to be a risk taker, someone who could charm his way out of any situation, slide himself out of trouble with little to no effort— though it was all a bluff, a white lie that existed to soothe the missing pieces of himself.

Suguru pushed his chair back, the plastic screeching against the floor. For a moment, he just sat there leaned back, rubbing his eyes.

It's been months, the deadline is creeping closer, it never stopped. He should have known this would happen.

Every day was the same; go to campus, come home from class, try to work things out, go to sleep unsatisfied, repeat.

He glances around his room, eyes lingering on the small aquarium before settling on the shitty walls covered in sketches; his apartment sucks, but he’s making the most of it. From the outside, it genuinely looks abandoned if not for the led lights casting a subtle light onto the street across from his apartment. The only things keeping him afloat are his scholarship and the small wads of cash he gets from the campus art exhibitions.

He pushes himself off his chair and onto his feet, stiffly stretching. He’s been slacking off on the GYM these past few weeks. He’s getting rusty. Maybe it’s the lack of sleep getting to him?

Suguru quickly showered, didn’t bother washing his hair, and flopped face first into his bed, wrapping the blankets around him in a protective habit. The soft fabric curled around him, the darkness enveloping him whole in a somber yet comforting way. His eyes flutter shut, sleep threatening to take over, yet there's no action to fight against it as Suguru lets himself relax for the first time in days.

It’s cold tonight.

A messy head of white hair gently lifted off his pillow, tender sun rays playing around in the air of the room. The bedroom is spacious for a college student’s apartment— It looks tidy, clean, even while the walls are covered in hundreds of Digimon posters and figures.

The day is beautiful. It’s spring, flowers are blooming and he can hear the birds singing through his slightly ajar window, gentle breeze hitting his skin. Satoru loves this.

Winter was never his thing, it’s cold and gloomy and rather sad. He always gets sick in the winter due to being sensitive to the cold. The only thing he liked about it was Christmas morning. Though, now it's over, he survived another winter and spring is a new chapter in his book to explore.

He lifts his arms in the air, stretching in a cat-like manner then winces as he strains a sore spot.

Admittedly, it wasn’t a smart idea to go running around campus right after he barely survived a collaboration with the chem major students, but he couldn’t help himself. He was one of the lucky ones who got off with only minor burns and a headache even though he was right in the pivot point of the explosion trying to fix a technical problem.

Thank god Shoko and Utahime were nearby waiting for him to finish for the day and managed to call the cops when the explosion went off. If they weren’t, he would’ve ended up on Shoko’s morgue table.

The idea was insane, but with his major’s tech knowledge and their chemistry knowledge, it was supposed to be a breakthrough of the century! That is, if it didn’t explode and send half of them to the hospital.

Satoru jumped out of bed with enthusiasm, now with slight caution due to his earlier mistake. His eyes skimmed around the room, landing on his betta fish tank, he got the little guy because he reminded him of himself. He should probably feed him before leaving.

It was a new day, a new start and he was going to make most of it.

He picked his outfit out carefully— his favorite dark blue MetalGreymon shirt (the one Shoko bought him for his birthday after he forced her to watch the anime with him), a pair of light-gray baggy pants and a comfortable black jacket with a blue infinity symbol on the back and small white stars on the sleeves. Perhaps a bit tacky, but he wanted to make sure he was comfortable today. He has a lot of practical work in class which means a lot of his time was going to be spent bent over his work in a shrimp pose.

Satoru stuffed his laptop into his dark gray Aer bag, slinging it over his shoulder before checking to make sure his Armored Spider-man pin and Agumon pin were still intact. He had a bad habit of losing his pins, but that's exactly why he bought his own pin maker.

After that, he put his light blue headphones on and set off out of his apartment and into the street.

Today was going to be a long day.

Suguru’s day didn’t start well.

He woke up late and immediately twisted his ankle while getting out of bed— he wasn’t sure how he could be this unlucky.

In the rush of trying to get ready, he spilled his coffee on his best shirt and had to change, making him even more late and without coffee. Fuck.

Grabbing his bags and running down the stairs of his apartment building wasn’t fun either, especially when he almost crashed into a sweet old lady while turning. He barely made it to his stop in time, having to wave to the bus driver to stop so he could catch up.

The bus was extra crowded today, meaning he had to stand and try not to fall. Suguru would argue he’s good at balance, but with a bag stuffed with books and notebooks on his shoulders along with holding another two bags full of art materials, it wasn’t an easy task.

After finally getting to class, he had profusely apologized to his professor who let him off easy just because of how stressed he looked. She was convinced he would pass out right then and there, but he didn’t.

He sat down, got his things out and started drawing. He had to get this task done before the end of class just like the rest of the students here, but in a much shorter time now. Damnit.

The day was almost over and he couldn’t wait to go home. He packed his things and headed down the mostly empty hallway. He had signed up for an extra writing class at the start of the semester while he still had the motivation, and now he couldn’t drop it due to the fact that the term was ending soon. It was exhausting, but lucky for him, they only went over last week's material and didn’t start anything new.

Right as he grabbed the door handle to leave, he heard someone yelling his name.

“Suguru!”

Turning to the source of the sound, Suguru saw Manami, an old high school friend. Her long pink hair fell in front of her face momentarily before she gently tucked it behind her ear, smiling at him warmly.

“Miguel and I are heading out for drinks on Thursday, would you want to join us?”

Manami was a philosophy major, so it isn’t surprising to see her around every now and then, but he hasn’t seen Miguel since high school.

He was planning on sitting in his room and dreading his life for another few hours, but it wouldn’t hurt to go out for a bit.

“Sure. Where are you headed?”

It was a work day, so he doubted they’d go to a bar when they have classes the next day. He’d much rather get black out drunk, though.

“We’re going to the new cafe that opened near Akasaka.”

Suguru heard about it. It had good reviews so far, people said they had a good variety of drinks and pastries. It would be a good substitute for his own thoughts and it would get him out of the house.

“Alright. I’ll meet you there.”

“I could drive you, if you’d like.” Manami suggested.

“No thanks. I’ve got it.”

He smiled politely, but shut that option away immediately. They haven’t talked in a while and he doesn’t doubt the drive would be awkward if it were just the two of them.

“Ah, okay. See you later, then.”

She smiled, turning to walk away with a small wave over her shoulder.

Satoru’s head hurts. Bad.

Even last week, when he got hit by electricity during the chem-tech experiment, it didn’t hurt this badly.

He got home exhausted, laying sprawled on his bed in a mess of white sheets and fluffy pillows being the only thing he could do. The day was successful, sure, but far more draining than usual. He has also gotten an upsurge in appetite from unknown circumstances. Had the shock from the electricity really been that bad?

Satoru got approval from campus for their little experiment, even paid for the medical costs of the other students, so he thought he was fine; there would be no suspensions and no one would be kicked out. He didn’t think about the effects it would have on his everyday life.

He had barely managed to get up to get himself a wet towel for his forehead. Holding the towel under the water gave him an uncomfortable tingly sensation. Weird.

Satoru glanced to the side impassively as he turned the water off, his eyes locking onto a big ass spider right next to his hand.

He let out a world record shriek, jumping back and almost falling over himself. He caught himself before he fell, holding onto the sink counter. The counter quivered, small sparks lighting up around his hand— the air crackled with electricity and before he knew it, the spider was burnt to a crisp.

After hastily getting up, he stared at the used-to-be spider in bafflement.

What the fuck just happened. Did he do that?

The spider’s body— what was left of it— twitched with a small spark, causing Satoru to flinch. Gosh, that was disgusting.

Satoru took a moment to compose himself before glancing down at his hands, flexing them softly. They were fine, a bit sore, but fine. Maybe it was a bad wire that sent a shock because of the water? No, that’s impossible, there’s no open wires in his bathroom.

Did he get superpowers from being hit by electricity?

Satoru feels like he's in a movie.

He steps closer to the crispy arachnid, inspecting it while also keeping a small distance. What if it exploded or something? That wouldn't be fun.

The spider seems perfectly fine (burnt) now, the earlier movement was the remaining muscles in the legs twitching as the body shut down, giving the appearance of movement.

Nasty.

In the next few days, Satoru took every free second he got to try and figure out how he managed to activate his powers. His senses have been getting sharper, his eyes more sensitive, and his headaches have finally lightened up. It seemed like his occipital lobe was working overtime lately.

While trying to charge his phone using his powers, without thinking of how he could accidentally destroy it, Satoru somehow figured out he also attracts electricity. He lightly parched his finger because of it, but that was just the consequences of his actions.

Everyone’s surprised he has survived this long with survival instincts this shitty-

Suguru joined Miguel and Manami’s hangout— and he had to admit— the place was appealing. It was a small cafe in a more secluded yet still bustling part of town, a true beauty at that. The building was surrounded by small bushes of orange jasmine and a Japanese snowbell tree near the outdoor tables where people were peacefully hanging out. Pastel stained windows gave a tinted yet alluring view of the outside scenery, and for once, Suguru wondered why there weren’t any cafes here before. It was basically a cash grab.

The inside was quieter, colored with gentle shades of white and green, sometimes with the exception of a light shade of blue. The fluffy white couch they settled on was in the back corner with a delightful view of the outside, perfect for people watching.

Suguru ordered a black coffee— which came in a cute strawberry mug— while the other two seemed more interested in talking. After a while, they ordered some Taiyaki and some drinks.

Miguel seemed pretty interested in the two beautiful long-haired baristas working there— one with stunning green eyes and the other with mesmerizing chocolate-brown eyes who seemed quieter than the other. (Though Suguru was sure she was only being polite because they were paying customers)

Manami had to convince him they weren't interested, in fact, she was quite confident they already had someone— each other, ironically.

He was glad he saw Miguel again, both he and Manami are great friends, though he still felt out of place. That’s the type of person Getou Suguru was. He had no problem talking to people, he could even say he was well liked, but he never felt like he fit in anywhere. He didn’t really like people that much either. That’s what he tried to convince himself. In reality, he’d do anything to talk about everything with at least one person the way he does with himself. People didn't understand, they didn't and they never would.

The rest of the day went smoothly, Suguru got his caffeine (and some more) so he was going to be fine. Hopefully.

They agreed to get together for drinks next week as well, though he was still thinking if he should join or not.

Suguru sat in his train back home, his small black earbuds fitting perfectly in his ear, completely covered by his silky black hair.

The music encircled his thoughts, setting him free of the obligation for a few moments.

Suguru sat there, enveloped in his music, drowning out any other sound. It was simple, comfortable. He didn't mind the other passengers, he didn't look outside the window, just stayed there staring at his own hands.

Maybe, just maybe, when he got home he would paint.