Archive of Our Own

The clatter of his ballpen dropping on the floor had several students looking at him with either a deadpan look or murderous intent. He flashes them a sheepish smile as he ducks down under the table, blindly letting his palm roam the dusty floor of the student lounge in search of his pen. When he finds it, he sits up abruptly and hits his head on the table. Thankfully, it didn't make much sound so only the person beside him heard. The look he was given was enough for Satoru to call it quits right there.

"Sorry," he whispers. He's been trying to practice a pen-spinning trick he saw on Tiktok earlier in lieu of reading the material he needs to review for their upcoming finals. Something about spontaneous symmetry breaking and electroweak gauge theory. The material itself isn't hard. Which, to Satoru, is the problem.

He's going to ace that exam and he knows it. He doesn't even know why he still tries to study for it.

It's definitely the peer-pressure, Satoru thinks. Everywhere on campus, there are students who are nose-deep in their books. It's insane. They're all nursing dark eyebags and their twelfth can of Monster.

Satoru exhales and lets himself relax on his seat. He stretches his (long) legs and pulls the hood of his jacket over his head so he can ignore the judging looks he can feel being thrown at him. He has half the heart to ask them what?

It's not like they can't do the same, right? Why are college students so uptight during finals?

Satoru pulled up the hood for a second so he can access face ID properly before letting it plop down again. He immediately goes to Tiktok and snickers to himself at the very first video and sends it to all his streak buddies.

Immediately, a notification pops up.

okohs sent you a message.

He opens his conversation with Shoko and reacts heart to the middle finger emoji she sent. How boring. They're on day 660 and the amount of times Shoko sent him anything aside from the middle finger and occasional GIF of a cat can still be counted with his two hands.

He was about to exit their conversation when he sees that Shoko has a story up.

Absent-mindedly, he clicks on it.

The video starts with Shoko holding the phone up high, she has an unlit cigarette between her teeth. A couple of seconds later, Utahime peeks and strikes a peace sign. Satoru snorts to himself.

Just as the video is coming to an end, Shoko shifts the camera angle a bit, just enough to fit someone standing quite far back from them. It's a guy Satoru has never seen before. Last time he checked, he knows no dude from their friend group who has long dark hair unless Yu decided he wants a change of lifestyle. The man is looking down at his phone with a lit cigarette in his other hand. Satoru hears Shoko shout yo!

When the man looks up, Satoru fights the urge to whistle. Because goddamn, what a meal.

For a very long time, Satoru thought he has no type. But right now— long, dark hair, smoker, and sleep-deprived seems to hit just the right spot.

He immediately begins typing.

Satoru spent a good thirty minutes stalking Shoko, hoping she has anything on the man in the video.

None.

He also sent Utahime a message with a screenshot of the video, asking her who the guy is. And Utahime, the bitch that she is, just laughed at his message.

He gives up and just sent both of them a picture of himself flipping them off. He made sure it's the one without the thumb so it looks extra offensive.

Well, so much for this day.

Satoru starts packing up and took the elevator down to his floor. When he gets inside his shared unit with Kento, Satoru dumps all his things in the bean bag beside their beds and plops down onto his mattress.

Kento is nowhere to be seen so he must be spending an all-nighter again holed up somewhere open 24/7.

He falls asleep just like that and woke up to the sound of heavy rain.

Disgruntled, Satoru sits up and heads for the bathroom. It's the start of the rainy season and the heat and humidity still hasn't let up. He can feel a wet patch in the neckline of his hoodie from where he must have sweated so much.

After washing his face, brushing his teeth, and throwing his hoodie into their laundry bin, Satoru makes his way back to his bed.

He opens up his phone to all sorts of notification. For one, his latest Letterboxd review on Project Hail Mary just received 11 likes. He wrote, "call me hail mary the way i wanna be full of grace," and isn't that so fucking genius.

Utahime has replied to his photo with her own selfie but instead of one, she's flipping the camera off with two hands. She must have propped her phone somewhere just to do something so petty. Whatever.

Shoko, on the other hand, has sent a video.

Satoru does not click on it right away for various reasons.

1. It could be a jump scare.
2. It could be a porn video with those horrendous moaning sounds.
or
3. It could be Shoko flashing him.

Like, seriously. Shoko probably has an exhibition kink. Or she's just insane like that. If Satoru doesn't know she has done it to everyone, he might start thinking it's Shoko's not-so-subtle way of saying she wanna go to pound town with Satoru which is super crazy because 1) disgusting, 2) she's a lesbian, and 3) Satoru's gay as fuck.

But of course, Satoru clicks on it after much deliberation.

"Holy mother of Jesus fuck."

It's neither of the three. Yup. None of it. It's much fucking worse.

It's a video of the guy in Shoko's story.

It's a video of the guy in Shoko's story looking at the camera and saying, "Hey, Satoru—"

Satoru throws his phone.

What fucking else is he supposed to do. What the fuck.

He can feel his heart struggling to jump out of his ribcage and sweat starts to pool on his neckline and forehead again.

What am i doing. I'm Satoru Gojo. I'm not shy.

Right.

Satoru stands up and picks up his phone from where it landed on the bean bag amongst his other things.

He plays the video and this time, he fights the urge to flung it across the room once more.

"Hey, Satoru," the guy starts. "The name of the meal is Suguru Geto."

He hears Shoko snort and Utahime cackle in the background. In response, Suguru smiles.

Fuck. If he has a vagina, he's gonna be dripping wet right now.

After a beat, Suguru speaks again.

"You can contact 03-xxxx-xxxx in case you wanna order," he says. Then, he winks.

Then, he winks.

At the camera. At Satoru.

Oh my god.

Fuck being Satoru Gojo. He is shy. He's probably beet-red right now. He has never felt more murderous and embarrassed simultaneously in his life.

To his surprise, three dots appear immediately.

Shoko doesn't reply.

Rude.

He has nothing else to say so he exits and quickly starts searching on Facebook.

Suguru Geto.

He can't believe he doesn't know the dude. Satoru's sure if someone who looks like that is in their campus, he would have known. He would have felt the shift in the balance of the universe or some shit. A face like that is groundbreaking.

Turns out, Suguru studies in a different university. Right. Makes sense.

Unfortunately, his profile on Facebook is locked and that's all the information he has access to. He doesn't even have a profile picture.

Man, the finest guys can never be found in social media.

Maybe Satoru should delete his IG and give up his internet fame so he can fit the standard.

Satoru, for a good minute, contemplates going to Pornhub and searching his name. It's obvious Shoko's joking but like, what if. Just what if she's not.

Of course he doesn't do it. He's not that gullible.

A notification pops up just as he's typing the number Suguru said in the video.

okohs sent you a message.

Satoru clicks on it and is met with another video.

Oh no. Oh hell no.

Against his better judgment, Satoru plays the video.

His heart somersaults when he's greeted by Suguru's face again. This time, he has his long hair tied up in a bun and Satoru has a clear view of the gauges in his two ears.

Can he get any hotter?

"Hi. Me again."

"Yeah, you again," Satoru says to himself.

"Just wanna clarify in case you're wondering, I'm not a pornstar. Nor do I have Onlyfans."

Satoru is gonna jump off this building. He's sure a drop from the twentieth floor would kill him.

He feels his eye twitch when he hears boisterous laughter in the background. Sounds like hyenas but it's definitely Shoko and Utahime.

Scratch the suicide plan. He's gonna kill them first before he kill himself. Murder-suicide.

Suguru in the video pauses for a second to take a drag out of the cigarette between his fingers all while still looking at the camera. It's like he's seducing Satoru. Like, totally.

Satoru watches him blow the smoke and wishes Suguru's blowing it in his mouth instead—.

"Nah, fuck, Satoru, focus."

Suguru looks at the camera again. "But, hey, I'm open to anything. If you're into voyeurism, I'm down to start a career in making porn."

He sees a shit-eating grin in Suguru's face before the phone is being transferred to the hands of Satanas' spawns.

The video comes to an end and Satoru honest to god hopes his life follows suit.

He sits there for another five seconds.

Ten.

Twenty.

Then, he slowly lowers himself face-first onto the mattress and pulls his pillow over his head.

He stays there motionless. He ignores his physiological need to breathe.

Somewhere beneath the pillow, Satoru speaks, muffled, "I'm gonna kill Shoko."

The next morning, Satoru finds Shoko outside one of the campus buildings during lunch break. She's sitting on a bench with an iced coffee in one hand and her phone in the other, looking annoyingly at peace with herself.

Without saying anything, he drops down beside her hard enough to make the bench creak.

Shoko spares him a quick glance before looking at her phone again.

"Hey," she greets him.

Satoru says nothing.

"...Hey."

Still nothing.

She lowers her phone and finally looks at him properly.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

Satoru slowly turns his head to face her. He smiles at her a little too bright, showing off his dimples and turning his eyes into moon crescents.

"You."

Shoko blinks.

"Me."

"You."

"What about me?"

Satoru points at her with genuine offense.

"You ruined my life yesterday."

She stares at him for a second. She snorts before looking at him with a deadpan expression.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, no shit Sherlock," Satoru says. "I watched that video and I was ready to film a goodbye video before somersaulting my way off our building."

Shoko rolls her eyes at him.

"You are such a drama queen."

"No, because let's actually discuss this. You embarrassed me to a stranger."

"Correction." She raises a finger. "To Suguru."

Satoru immediately recoils.

"Don't say his name."

"Why?"

"PTSD."

Shoko gives him a look. It's the same look she gives him whenever he says something astronomically stupid.

"You like him."

Satoru looks at her dead in the eye before speaking.

"I don't."

"You do."

"I literally don't."

"Satoru, you totally got the hots for him."

"I don't."

Shoko looks down at her phone and starts scrolling, "Okay," she starts, making a show of coughing, "Fuck, crying emoji crying emoji crying emoji, just give me that dick crying emoji crying emoji crying emoji."

Okay.

Okay.

In Satoru's defense—

Actually no. There is no defense for that.

Still.

"I was joking," he says. "People joke all the time."

Shoko slowly turns to stare at him.

"You are so lame. Why are you such a pussy."

Satoru stares back.

He can outstare her. He absolutely can.

Three seconds later he loses.

Shoko wins through psychological warfare anyways.

"I don't even know the dude," Satoru mutters. "I know exactly three things about him. Long hair, smoker, and apparently not a pornstar."

He pauses.

"...Which, by the way, was devastating news."

Shoko lets out a laugh.

"Seriously," he continues. "I just thought he was hot. That's normal. People think people are hot all the time. Like, look," he points at a random guy walking past them, "He's hot. Five-star Michelin meal."

The guy is, in fact, not a five-star Michelin meal.

"Sure."

Satoru narrows his eyes.

"I was just bored yesterday studying for the finals."

"Sure."

"So, I saw an unfamiliar face and like you know, curiosity kills the cat—"

"Sure."

"Dude, what."

"What what?"

"The sure."

She blinks innocently.

"What about it?"

"You're not taking me seriously."

Shoko huffs at him before shifting in her sit, each of her short leg in either side of the bench so he can face Satoru properly.

Satoru crosses his arms and looks back at her.

For a moment neither of them says anything.

Students walk past them. Someone nearby laughs too loudly. A motorcycle growls somewhere outside campus.

"Okay, jokes aside."

Satoru glances at her.

"You think he's attractive, right?"

"...Yeah."

"Yeah?"

"Yes! He's like a walking Greek god."

"Right."

"Like, if you're not lesbian, he's totally your type."

Shoko grimaces.

"So, he's hot, he's smart, you know, he's a Psychology major, totally your type. You like your men a little bit mentally unstable."

Unfortunately. To each his own.

"...Yeah."

Shoko shrugs.

"Then message him."

Satoru blinks.

"What."

"I already did like eighty percent of the work for you."

"Eighty percent?"

"Okay. Ninety."

"Ninety?" Satoru repeats. "Shoko, all you did was publicly assassinate my dignity. In fact, you brought me more work."

"No. I handed you a guy's number after confirming he's attractive and can match your freak."

Silence.

"What if we don't click?"

The words leave his mouth before he can stop them.

Because that's actually the thing, isn't it?

Not the embarrassment. Not Shoko. Not even the fact that Satoru briefly considered jumping off the twentieth floor last night.

It's that Suguru laughed. Smiled. Winked. Played along.

And now Satoru kind of wants more.

Which is annoying. Very annoying.

Shoko looks over at him.

"Satoru."

"What."

"You are going to click. You guys will hit it off. You're the most insufferable person I know and then Suguru is the closest second. If there's anyone in the entire world that you'll click with, it's Suguru."

"You think so?"

"Yeah."

"Are you just saying that so I'll get off your back or are you genuinely assuring me."

"Both. I'm genuinely assuring you so you can get off my back."

Satoru wipes the imaginary tears off his eyes and kisses Shoko on her cheek before sprinting away.

He can hear her shouting expletives but he's too far up high the cloud nine to mind the looks sent his way of everyone who can hear Shoko calling his name.

Satoru has spent forty long, agonizing minutes staring at Suguru's number.

Of course not a continuous forty minutes. That would be weird.

He spent ten minutes on Tiktok, cackling at whatever, before going back and staring at it again. He spent five minutes typing everything he needs because Kento messaged him asking if there's anything he can grab for Satoru since he's passing by the grocery store. Then, he stares at it again. Then, he opened the camera app and took pictures of himself. He stares at it then goes back to Suguru's number.

Very not-normal.

Very not him.

This is crazy. It's probably a god-given grace that he rarely gets crushes. He goes insane when he has one.

Satoru flops onto his back on the mattress and raises his phone above his face.

Okay. Let's think.

If he says, hey, that's boring.

If he says, hi is this suguru? that's even worse because obviously it's Suguru. It'll make him look pretentious.

Satoru starts typing.

hi

Deletes.

yo

Deletes.

r u sure u're not a pornstar? wasted potential

Deletes. Then, Satoru hesitates. He types it back and stares at it.

Actually?

Actually.

That's kinda funny. Just the right amount of flirt and fun. Right. It's perfect.

No. Wait. Isn't it too forward?

Shoko literally said he matched your freak.

Right.

Right, right.

Satoru hits send.

The message sends.

Immediately, Satoru regrets every decision he has ever made that led him to this point in his life.

Oh my god.

Oh my god, am I crazy?

Why would I send that.

Then, three dots appear.

Suguru is typing.

Fast.

Way too fast. Suspiciously fast. Fast like he's been waiting.

Huh.

Shit. This is his end. How is he supposed to answer that.

What the fuck.

What is that wink supposed to mean?

Is that allowed? Is Suguru insane?

Fidgeting, Satoru taps on the contact name and types suguru ;).

Satoru almost says send nudes but thinks better of it.

Satoru chokes on absolutely nothing.

He sits up so fast it's not a surprise he hears a pop.

Is this sexting? It definitely is, right? Because if not, what the hell is this?

Satoru doesn’t even check his calendar.

There is no universe where the answer is anything but yes.

Satoru leaves him on read.

He unceremoniously lays back down. He drops his phone beside his bed and stares at the ceiling.

I’m so fucked.

A pause.

I have a date.

Another pause.

I have a super fucking hot date.

"Satoru."

"Hm?"

"That's your third outfit change. If you reaches for your closet door one more time I will kick you out the door and lock you out so you will have no other choice but to face your date."

Satoru pauses in front of his closet, his hand inches away from the door. He slowly backs away and shoots Kento a smile.

Kento throws him a pointed look before swiveling his chair back to the table.

See, the thing is, Satoru's a really good friend. So even though he's extremely tempted to dig deeper into his closet for an outfit that is perfect, becuase he's sure it exists somewhere in there, he decides to take pity on Kento.

Satoru's phone lights up from where it sits on top of his bedside drawer.

When Satoru picks it up, he ignores the way his heart does something strange and extremely embarrassing.

Satoru blinks.

Satoru grabs his wallet, nearly trips putting on his shoes, says something that vaguely resembles bye to Kento, and practically sprints to the elevator.

Thankfully, the elevator came immediately with no one inside. Satoru spends a couple of seconds checking his reflection on the elevator walls as it starts to descend.

When the elevator door opens downstairs—

Oh

Oh no.

Oh fuck.

Suguru rides a big bike.

Suguru rides a big, beautiful motorcycle which is so fitting because he, too, is big and beautiful. Fuck.

Satoru doesn't know shit about bikes. Absolutely nothing. But suddenly he understands men who spend six hours talking about engines and horsepower and whatever else they talk about.

Suguru is leaning against it with his helmet tucked under one arm. His hair is not tied today and Satoru wishes he can just reach up and card his fingers through those gorgeous locks.

Suguru looks so handsome. If Satoru crosses path with him on the street, there is no doubt he'll break his neck looking back.

He's wearing a black hoodie with the sleeves pushed up and dark jeans and—

Satoru stops.

He refuses to continue this train of thought because his brain is already on thin fucking ice.

Suguru notices him and smiles.

Shit, what do people say? Save a bike, ride a biker?

"Hey."

"Hey."

Suguru reaches behind him and picks up another helmet.

"Here."

Satoru takes it. He doesn't let his mind linger in the way their hands brushed against each other and how it left goosebumps on Satoru's arms.

Why am I acting like a virgin.

Satoru notices he's slightly taller than Suguru and quietly thanks every higher being for gifting him with height because if he has to look up to Suguru, he might combust.

"It's just my old one," Suguru says. "I haven't gotten around to buying another."

"Oh, no, that's fine—"

"I'll get you a new one next time."

Satoru stops and stares at Suguru.

Next time. He totally did not imagine that. Suguru said next time which means there will be more dates. And then they will get married next. They will do taxes and laundries together, and they will have matching mugs, and probably adopt an orange cat.

"Uh," Satoru says intelligently. "Okay. Thanks."

Suguru smiles and moves to straddle his bike. He puts his helmet on and pulls up the bike's stand. He looks at Satoru through his helmet's visor. "Hop in."

Has Satoru rode a bike before? No. Is he scared? No. Is he kinda horny? Yes. Is he absolutely, undoubtedly in love? Maybe.

The cafe turns out to be tucked between a bookstore and an old record shop.

It's small and warm inside. Plants hang from shelves along the walls, and sunlight spills through large windows onto wooden tables. Somewhere overhead, soft music plays quietly.

It smells like coffee and vanilla and baked bread.

At the counter, Suguru glances over.

"What are you getting?"

Satoru scans the menu.

Then—

"Oh my god."

Suguru looks over.

"What?"

Satoru points.

"They have extra caramel drizzle."

"...Okay?"

"And whipped cream."

"Okay."

"And chocolate sauce."

Suguru slowly realizes where this is going.

"No—"

"And cookie crumbs."

"No, Satoru—"

"And marshmallows."

"Satoru."

When their drinks arrive, Satoru's ends up looking like an amalgamation of every ingredient used to bake diabetes.

Suguru stares.

Satoru stares back while aggressively sipping from his cup.

"What."

"How are you alive?"

"What kind of question is that."

"That doesn't even look edible."

"Rude."

Suguru laughs at him. Satoru watches him and decides very quickly that hearing Suguru laugh in person is significantly more dangerous than hearing him through a phone speaker.

The date slips into something easy after that.

Not immediately. At first, there were moments where Satoru can feel himself acting weird. He realizes the way he sits up straighter when Suguru looks at him a bit too intensely or fixing his sleeves for no reason at all. There are also moments where Satoru says something stupid and regrets it before he watches Suguru laugh, and suddenly he doesn't regret it anymore.

The thing is, Suguru laughs a lot.

Not the fake polite laugh people perfects to push their way through conversations they hate. Satoru knows that laugh because he has mastered it.

Suguru's isn't like that.

Suguru laughs with his entire body. He throws his head back when something genuinely catches him off guard and sometimes his shoulders shake a little. When he can't stop his laughter, Suguru covers his mouth with one hand but Satoru can still see his smile the way his eyes crinkle with delight.

And Satoru realizes, between crunching on ice chips from his drink and telling Suguru an exaggerated version of Shoko trying to do a front roll in the middle of a dance floor, that Suguru has been looking at him almost the entire time. His gaze has not strayed from Satoru for more than a couple of seconds.

Satoru learns that Suguru studies Psychology but if he had taken passion over practicality, he would have chosen Anthropology.

"Do you like people?"

"You could say that, yeah."

"Why?"

"I think we're amazing."

"I think we're annoying."

"You're people."

In return, Satoru shares that he studies Physics and how his childhood dream was to become an astronaut. When Suguru asks him what it is now, he says the truth, which is that it's still the same. He tells him that instead of counting sheep, Satoru falls asleep by imagining himself floating into the void of space, untethered by gravity.

Satoru also learns that Suguru plays basketball.

Which honestly feels unfair.

Because okay, fine. Handsome? Cool. Rides a bike? Whatever. Funny? Alright. But basketball too?

"You play basketball?" Satoru asks, leaning forward. "Like actual basketball?"

Suguru gives him a look.

"I play actual basketball."

"No fucking way."

For a while after that, the conversation just keeps flowing. One topic turns into another and then another after that. Basketball becomes anime, and Satoru learns Suguru's favorite anime movie of all time is Makoto Shinkai's 5 centimeters per second. Anime becomes weird food combinations, and weird food combinations becomes Satoru defending hotdogs dipped in ice cream while Suguru looks at him with thinly veiled judgement.

And somewhere along the way, Satoru stops noticing time.

He doesn't notice the way the café slowly starts getting busier. Doesn't notice how his drink has melted completely, turning it sad and watery. Doesn't notice the way the harsh sunlight has given way to a beautiful sunset outside.

What he does notice is the way it casts warm colors across Suguru's face. Notices how Suguru has ordered another drink for him, the same one. Notices how everything seems to be just about that moment in time.

He only notices Suguru.

Which—

Okay.

That sounds insane for a first meeting.

But Satoru doesn't know how else to explain it.

Because usually first meetings are awkward. Usually, there are uncomfortable silence you have to fill and moments where you wonder if you're laughing too loudly or the way your hair sits on your head looks stupid.

And it was awkward, and Satoru did wonder about all that and more but he hasn't thought about any of that in a while.

Across from him, Suguru smiles.

Satoru blinks. "What?"

"You're staring."

Oh.

Oh, he was.

Satoru immediately grabs his drink and looks away.

"...No I wasn't."

Suguru's smile widens.

Liar.

And Satoru realizes that five-star Michelin meal was actually underselling it.

Which is honestly fucking annoying. Because now Satoru knows he's gonna want a second date. And a third. And probably every date after that too.

Satoru realizes Shoko will probably never let him live this down. He thinks if he hears Shoko say I told you so, he's going to punch her in the throat. Right after thanking her.

Outside, the sun keeps slipping lower and lower, and neither of them notices.