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The sword impales his shoulder, and he realizes he’s going to die. This wasn’t something he could stop, the weapon made to neutralize a technique as powerful as his.
The blade slices downward, tearing ligament muscle bone apart in one motion. It hurts. It hurts more than anything he’s ever felt. And then his heart pangs because Suguru doesn’t know…
A twist in his stomach and the sword is pulled out, the shadow of Fushiguro Toji leaning over him and sneering. “Now to go find your friend.”
Satoru bolts upright, hands flying upwards to claw at his neck and his chest. It’s all still there, but is it still working? The thundering in his chest must be his beating heart, and so he deduces if he tries to breathe it might work too. He gasps to get cold air into his lungs and, fuck, they do work but it hurts.
Tears prick at the corner of his eyes, and everything is so dark—is he in hell?
He misses the movement next to him in his delirious panic, panting and twisting and squirming, and then there’s something on his shoulder and he flinches. The warm presence doesn’t register, can’t make sense given what Satoru thinks is happening. But then he blinks, and his vision comes into focus on—
“Suguru,” he chokes out, sight made worse by the onslaught of tears welling up. “Suguru!”
Suguru’s mouth is moving, and Satoru realizes there’s a rushing sound in his ears. Instead of the usual where his senses are on high alert, everything is muted and stuffy. He doesn’t think he prefers it.
Without much thought, Satoru throws himself at Suguru, hands clutching and gripping tightly as he continues to choke down air and sort out whatever is going on. He presses his face into the junction of Suguru’s shoulder and neck, not caring it makes the airflow worse.
And once he’s this close, some words start to seep in. “You’re alright,” and fuck, Suguru’s voice is always so soft and melodic and comforting. Satoru wants to wrap himself in it. “Deep breaths. I’m here.”
Satoru can’t help the whimper that escapes him. He knows it makes him sound and look pathetic, but all he can do is tighten his grip and pull himself closer.
A hand—and that’s what was on his shoulder, the shape and weight and warmth of Suguru’s body now familiar—moves to his back, rubbing up and down with little circles drawn into his skin. Another hand finds the back of his head, cupping it and gently carding through the hair.
“Breathe, Satoru. You’re safe.” Suguru’s voice rumbles through his body, a grounding sensation. To remind him he’s alive and real and safe and lov—
“I-I thought—“ he manages to choke out, tears and snot dripping down his throat and making his voice that wet nasally sound. “F-Fushiguro…”
A tsk from Suguru, but not one of disappointment. Satoru knows that. He’s just upset that such a thing could happen and that it would still haunt Satoru five out of the seven nights a week.
“He’s gone. It’s over. No more.” Suguru starts to sway, rocking them both back and forth in a slow, steady rhythm. “I’m here.”
Satoru sniffles and nuzzles into him more, squeezing his eyes shut and gripping tightly. He won’t ever leave Suguru’s side again. No matter what.
“Ah,” and it’s meant to be quiet and subtle but Satoru notices, eyes flying open and lashes brushing skin. “Uh, Satoru—“
He flinches, and that’s when he realizes his hands have fistfuls of Suguru’s long hair, yanking on them in his attempt to keep him as close and safe as possible.
“Need you close,” he explains, not letting up and nuzzling deeper into his neck.
“It hurts a bit,” Suguru breathes, but Satoru can hear the smile in his voice. “You wouldn’t want me doing that to you.”
He hopes Suguru can feel the smirk against his neck as Satoru says, “Actually I would. And I would beg for harder.”
It earns a snort out of Suguru, and he still hasn’t manhandled to make Satoru let go. “A joke like that when you’re trembling in my arms?”Satoru sticks his tongue out. “Ew, and you’re licking me?!”
He relents, releasing the death grip Suguru’s is hair in favor of tucking his arms in between the two of them and curling up as tiny as possible. He’s taller, sure, but he can make himself small if he’s determined to get cuddles from Suguru. And Suguru never seems to complain, always humming softly as he helps Satoru scrunch up.
“That’s it,” Suguru murmurs, adjusting his hold on Satoru to pull him closer, into his lap, guiding Satoru’s leg to hook around his waist. “There we go.”
Satoru lets out a deep, shuddering exhale. At least he has this, at least he has Suguru.
“Does it hurt?” Suguru asks, voice barely above a whisper, and Satoru nods. After a flashback, his torso always aches along the scar line. It feels like something’s still wedged inside him, tearing and slicing and destroying. “My poor thing.”
Satoru would typically snort at that, saying Suguru was patronizing him, but this time, he just whimpers and tucks closer. “Hate this,” he grumbles out. He hates displaying anything but strength. He’s the strongest, after all.
“Yeah, I know. But it’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with you.” Suguru’s chapped lips brush against Satoru’s temple, such a comforting and familiar feeling. “Even the strongest have moments when they’re weak.”
Satoru whines because that’s what he said to Suguru once, and now the guy repeats it every chance he gets. “Don’t throw my own bullshit back at me.”
“So you were bullshitting me when you said it?” Suguru quips, another press of lips to the top of his head. Saying that Satoru’s protected there, too.
“No, it just—fuck you, you know it’s different.” Satoru sticks his tongue out again, a small giggle as Suguru gently pushes his head away from the direction of his neck.
“We don’t play by different rules,” Suguru murmurs, hand back to carding through Satoru’s hair. It’s getting long, he should get it cut. But all the more for Suguru to play with. “You can’t isolate yourself like that. I won’t let you.”
Satoru sighs and hitches his leg higher and tighter around Suguru. “Is that you promising to never leave my side then? Please, pretty please?”
A gentle tug on his hair to tilt his head back, and Satoru goes to squawk about Suguru complaining about the same action just moments ago. But then his eyes lock on Suguru’s impossibly dark and beautiful own, and his lips part in quiet anticipation.
“Yes,” Suguru says, delivery always so serious. “I promise. I’m not going anywhere.”
He hates having to fight back tears, but the urge to cry springs out of nowhere. This guy can just be so, so…
“I love you,” Satoru breathes out, no other combination of words able to get that sentiment across.
Suguru doesn’t say anything, but he fiercely tucks Satoru back against his chest, head under his chin, arms clutching him so close and tight. Like he’s physically trying to keep him there forever.
And finally, after a deep breath he knows is meant to clear away any of Suguru’s own tears, he whispers the words back: “I love you, too, Satoru.”