Chapter Text
The classroom smelled faintly of chalk and dust, the hum of fluorescent lights buzzing lazily above. Satoru leaned back in his chair, feet propped on the desk, glancing at Suguru across the room. Not that anyone else would notice — maybe Shoko had, but she’d said nothing, just smirked the way she always did when Satoru got too obvious.
“You’re staring again, idiot,” Suguru muttered, barely lifting his head from the notebook in front of him.
“Am not,” Satoru said, grinning. “I’m… studying. Very intensely. Science of… um, movement.” He waved vaguely at Suguru, who snorted and rolled his eyes, pen tapping impatiently.
Satoru caught himself smiling. Again. The curve of Suguru’s lips, the way his dark hair fell just so over his eyes. He knew it shouldn’t matter — it wasn’t like anyone would care — but he cared anyway. Always.
The class dragged on, a blur of monotone lectures and the occasional annoyed sigh from Suguru.
Satoru didn’t take notes. He didn’t need to; he was busy memorizing small details: how Suguru chewed on the tip of his pen when thinking, how he tugged at his sleeve when irritated, how he leaned slightly to the left whenever he was distracted. Little things that didn’t matter to anyone else, but to Satoru, they meant everything.
When the bell finally rang, Suguru gathered his things without a word. Satoru followed, skipping slightly to catch up. “Hey, wait up. You forgot your—” He grabbed a spare drink from his bag, holding it out like a peace offering.
Suguru paused, raising an eyebrow. “I didn’t forget anything.”
“Sure, sure.” Satoru grinned anyway, offering the bottle with dramatic flourish. “But I insist. Science requires hydration. Safety first. You wouldn’t want to pass out in class and ruin your perfect attendance streak, right?”
Suguru sighed, taking it. “You’re ridiculous.”
“You love it,” Satoru said, almost as an afterthought, more to himself than to Suguru. Suguru didn’t respond. He never really did when Satoru said things like that. And that was fine… for now.
By the time they reached the rooftop — their usual escape from the dorm and classes — the sky was streaked with pale orange. Satoru plopped down on the concrete, kicking off his shoes, and leaned back on his elbows. Suguru followed, settling a few feet away, silent but present.
Satoru cracked open the bottle he had just given him and tossed it lightly toward Suguru. He caught it without looking up, and for a moment, they sat like that: close, quiet, and familiar.
“You always pick the same spot,” Suguru said finally, voice low, almost casual.
“Yeah, it’s… convenient. Nice view. You like it too, right?” Satoru teased lightly.
Suguru didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. The silence was comfortable — easy. The kind of easy Satoru knew wouldn’t last forever, even if he refused to think about it now.
As the sun dipped lower, painting the rooftop gold, Satoru thought about how simple it all seemed.
Laughs, stolen glances, small jokes — moments he could bottle up and keep safe.
He didn’t realize then that “safe” was a lie. That the first time he let himself notice Suguru this way, he had already lost any chance of pretending it didn’t matter.
And yet, in that moment, it was perfect.
The bell in the distance rang again, signaling time to return to reality, but Satoru lingered, eyes on Suguru. One day, maybe, he thought, things would be different.
But for now… it was still easy.