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Satoru Gojo was failing. Miserably. It was the last few weeks of the term and he had a not turned in a single homework assignment at all. Sure, he was busy with other stuff but not busy enough to put off homework for three months daily. Satoru sighed and picked up his pencil, ready to try to finish 3 months of homework in two days. “Why do I do this to myself,” He mutters under his breath.
He had just started on the first assignment when two fingers poked his pressure points on his waist, making him jump and turn around, “Suguru, what the fuck?! I thought we’d agree to not taser each other when we’re busy!”
“We did, but you were just sitting there looking all pretty, I couldn’t resist.” “Are you flirting with me?” “Could be a possibility.”
They banter back and forth, then Suguru notices the pile of homework on his partners desk.
“Satoru, is that all the homework from the past three months? Why are you just doing it now?” “Because I didn’t feel like doing it. Alright?”
“Well here, give me some, I’ll help you with this.” Suguru reached over Satoru’s shoulder and grabbed half the pile.
“Suguru, really, you don’t have to, I got it.” “No, you clearly don’t. Just let me help you out ’Turo, so you can finally pass a class.”
So the two boys studied late into the night, and at 1:35 AM, they fell asleep on each other.
The next morning, Shoko burst into their dorm, shouting “Dumbasses, wake upppp!!” and placed a box of donuts on the counter, and went to wake them up.
She went into Suguru’s room first, and to her surprise, it was empty.
When she opened Satoru’s door, she pieced two and two together, saying
“Aw, such a cute couple. When in fuck did this start?” The two boys rubbed their eyes and sat up,
“Shoko, what the fuck do you mean?” Satoru asks, still half asleep. “What I mean is that you both fell asleep on each other, AND you were holding hands.”
Shoko stared at them with the exhausted expression of someone witnessing the dumbest slow burn in human history.
“What I mean,” she repeated slowly, “is that you both fell asleep on each other, AND you were holding hands.”
Satoru blinked.
Suguru blinked.
Then both of them looked down at the exact same time.
Their hands were still loosely tangled together between them.
Satoru let go so fast he almost fell off the bed.
“THAT DOESN’T MEAN ANYTHING,” he said immediately.
Suguru coughed into his fist. “Right. Obviously.”
Shoko deadpanned. “Sure. Totally platonic.”
“It was an accident,” Suguru added.
“People accidentally hold hands in their sleep all the time,” Satoru agreed.
“No they don’t,” Shoko replied instantly.
Satoru pointed at her dramatically. “You don’t know my truth.”
“I know you idiots have been acting like divorced newlyweds for six months.”
Neither of them answered that.
Because unfortunately, she was right.
—
College life at Tokyo Metropolitan University was, according to Satoru, designed specifically to ruin him.
Classes started too early.
Professors expected “consistent effort.”
And apparently there was a limit to how many assignments one could skip before academic probation became “a serious conversation.”
Unfair.
Thankfully, Suguru existed.
Suguru, who brought him coffee before lectures.
Suguru, who shared notes when Satoru slept through class.
Suguru, who had somehow become the center of Satoru’s entire routine without either of them noticing.
Or maybe they had noticed.
Maybe they were just pretending not to.
“Are you coming to the party Friday?” Haibara asked later that afternoon while the group sat outside the student center.
“Absolutely not,” Suguru answered immediately.
“Yes he is,” Satoru said at the same time.
Suguru looked over. “Am I?”
“Yes. Because if I suffer through frat music, you suffer through frat music.”
“That’s not friendship. That’s psychological warfare.”
Satoru grinned. “You love me.”
The words slipped out naturally.
Too naturally.
For half a second, the table went quiet.
Suguru’s eyes flicked toward him.
Shoko looked up from her cigarette like she’d just smelled blood in the water.
Then Satoru laughed loudly. “As a friend, obviously.”
Suguru looked away first. “Obviously.”
Shoko rolled her eyes so hard it looked physically painful.
—
Friday night arrived with terrible music and cheap alcohol.
Satoru was already regretting everything.
“This sucks,” Suguru muttered beside him as they squeezed through the crowded house.
“You say that every time.”
“Because every time I’m right.”
Satoru snorted.
The bass from downstairs shook the floor hard enough to rattle the walls while sweaty college students screamed lyrics to songs neither of them recognized.
Suguru looked deeply unimpressed.
Which, unfortunately, made him look hotter.
Everything Suguru did was unfairly attractive lately.
Leaning against walls.
Pushing his hair back.
Laughing quietly at Satoru’s jokes.
Existing in general.
Satoru hated it.
“Gojo!”
Satoru turned to see Utahime glaring at him from the kitchen. “If you break anything this time, I’m billing you.”
“No promises!”
“You’re the reason we lost our security deposit sophomore year!”
“That was one time!”
“It was three times!”
Suguru laughed under his breath beside him.
Satoru immediately forgot Utahime existed.
There it was again.
That stupid laugh.
Warm and low and fond.
Satoru looked away before his brain could spiral any further.
Too late.
Because then someone appeared beside Suguru.
A girl.
Tall. Pretty. Black dress.
Satoru instantly hated her for reasons he could not legally defend.
“Hey,” she said to Suguru with an easy smile. “You’re in my sociology lecture, right?”
Suguru nodded politely. “I am.”
“I knew I recognized you.”
Satoru took a violent sip from his drink.
Shoko appeared beside him like an evil ghost. “Oh no.”
“I’m fine.”
“You look like you’re about to commit homicide.”
“I just don’t trust sociology majors.”
“That’s not the issue here.”
Across the room, the girl touched Suguru’s arm while laughing.
Satoru crushed his cup.
“Oh my god,” Shoko whispered. “You’re jealous.”
“I am NOT jealous.”
“You just murdered a red solo cup.”
“The structural integrity was weak.”
“You’ve been glaring at that girl for thirty seconds.”
“She seems fake.”
“You don’t even know her name.”
“I don’t need to.”
Shoko stared at him for a long moment before sighing dramatically.
“Satoru.”
“What?”
“You are catastrophically in love with him.”
Satoru laughed way too loudly. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it?”
“Yes.”
Shoko pointed across the room. “Then why do you look one inconvenience away from starting a fistfight?”
Satoru opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Then frowned.
“…Oh.”
Shoko winced sympathetically. “Yeah. Oh.”
—
The rest of the night was torture.
Because now Satoru couldn’t stop noticing things.
Suguru smiling at people.
Suguru talking animatedly.
Suguru being effortlessly charming without even trying.
And worst of all?
Other people noticing it too.
Somebody was always looking at him.
Somebody always wanted his attention.
Which made something ugly and unfamiliar twist painfully in Satoru’s chest.
By the time they left the party, he was exhausted.
“You’re weirdly quiet,” Suguru noted as they walked back to campus.
“I’m thinking.”
“That’s dangerous.”
“Shut up.”
Suguru smiled slightly. “There he is.”
Satoru shoved his hands into his hoodie pockets.
The city was cold at night, streetlights painting everything gold and amber around them.
Suguru walked close enough that their shoulders brushed occasionally.
Every single time it happened, Satoru became hyperaware of it.
It was unbearable.
Then Suguru spoke again.
“That girl from earlier asked for my number.”
Satoru stopped walking.
“…Oh.”
Suguru glanced sideways at him carefully. “Yeah.”
“And?”
“And I said no.”
Satoru’s brain completely stalled.
“…Why?”
Suguru looked genuinely confused. “Because I wasn’t interested.”
“Oh.”
Silence.
Then:
“You sound disappointed.”
“No I don’t.”
“You did a little.”
Satoru groaned loudly. “Suguru, please don’t psychoanalyze me right now.”
“That usually means you’re hiding something.”
“I’m not hiding anything.”
Suguru stopped walking entirely this time.
Satoru turned toward him slowly.
“What?”
Suguru studied him for a long moment before speaking quietly.
“Is there a reason you looked miserable all night?”
Satoru immediately looked away.
“No.”
“Satoru.”
“Drop it.”
“Satoru.”
The way Suguru said his name should’ve been illegal.
Soft. Patient. Too gentle.
Satoru hated how weak it made him.
Finally, quietly, he muttered:
“I didn’t like seeing her flirt with you.”
Suguru went very still.
The sounds of the city faded into the background.
Cars passing.
Distant music.
Cold wind against their faces.
“…Why?” Suguru asked softly.
Satoru laughed weakly. “You already know why.”
And maybe that was the problem.
Because Suguru did know.
The late nights together.
Shared headphones during lectures.
Falling asleep on each other during study sessions.
Hands brushing and lingering too long.
Months of almosts.
Suguru stepped closer.
“Satoru.”
“What?”
“You know somebody told me you flirt with everyone.”
Satoru blinked. “…What?”
Suguru smiled faintly. “Shoko says half the campus thinks you’re impossible to read.”
“That’s because I am.”
“No,” Suguru said quietly. “Not with me.”
Satoru forgot how to breathe.
Suguru looked nervous now too, which somehow made this feel even more real.
“You look at me differently,” Suguru admitted softly. “You always have.”
Satoru’s heart hammered painfully against his ribs.
“And you let me,” he whispered back.
Neither of them moved.
Then Suguru laughed quietly under his breath.
“We’re really stupid, huh?”
“Unbelievably.”
“Shoko’s going to be unbearable about this.”
“She already is.”
Suguru smiled again.
That smile.
The one that always ruined Satoru instantly.
So Satoru did the only thing that made sense anymore.
He grabbed Suguru’s jacket and kissed him.
Immediate.
Messy.
Desperate in the way only months of unresolved tension could be.
Suguru made a startled sound before kissing him back hard enough to make Satoru stumble slightly.
Warm hands grabbed his waist.
Satoru felt dizzy.
When they finally pulled apart, both of them looked wrecked.
Suguru’s cheeks were pink.
Satoru’s sunglasses sat crooked on his face.
Neither fixed it.
“Well,” Suguru murmured breathlessly, “that explains a lot.”
Satoru laughed shakily. “Yeah.”
Then Suguru kissed him again.
Softer this time.
Slow enough for Satoru to melt into it completely.
When they separated, Suguru rested his forehead against Satoru’s and smiled.
“So,” he said lightly, “you still failing that class?”
Satoru groaned dramatically. “Don’t ruin the moment.”
“You skipped every assignment for three months.”
“I was busy falling in love with my best friend.”
Suguru froze.
Then his entire face softened in a way Satoru had never seen before.
“…You mean that?”
Satoru suddenly looked embarrassed for the first time all night. “I mean, yeah. Obviously.”
Suguru stared at him for exactly two seconds before kissing him again like he couldn’t help himself.
And somewhere in the distance, Satoru was pretty sure he could hear Shoko yelling:
“IT’S ABOUT TIME.”