Archive of Our Own

 ♡

Satoru Gojo was always fated to be alone. 

The Limitless is the strongest when they’re alone. Letting anyone in only opens a door to weakness, and the world would freeze over before Satoru Gojo was ever weak.

He swore, swore that Suguru Geto wouldn’t open that door. He’d barricade it, gorilla glue it closed, replace it with a slab of concrete, anything to keep that damn door shut. He wouldn’t even let Suguru turn the damn knob. The door would be at one end of the hallway, and Suguru would be on the other. Not even close to it.

And yet, ever since they started their second year, he’s felt him take step after step down that hallway. His footsteps echoed and bounced across the walls like thunder with every single movement; Satoru was painfully, painfully aware of it all. And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to do the same thing to the middle of the hallway that he would do with the door. 

Why can’t he just crush one of the school’s temple buildings and use the debris to mend together a wall right in the middle of the hallway? Suguru would never get to the door then, he would never break that wall down. Satoru knows he wouldn’t. 

Damn it, why does it feel like he wants him to?

“Fuck, my head hurts,” Satoru groaned, pushing his bangs out of the way and wincing at the sunlight. “Why’s everything so damn bright?” 

“That reminds me,” Suguru pursed his lips, and Satoru couldn’t help but stare. “What do you see when you have your glasses on, anyway?”

“Eh, just,” he trailed off, his eyebrows furrowing. He doesn’t really know how to explain this sort of thing—what can he even compare it to? “Heat signature, I guess?” 

“But with cursed energy?” 

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “Best thing I can come up with, man.” 

“Nah, I get it.” Suguru put his hands in his pockets, his thumbs sticking out like they always do. He likes that about him. “That seems like it kinda sucks, though. Only seeing blue and black.”

“Well it’s either that, or this fuckass headache,” Satoru sighed, suppressing another groan. It was getting harder to think with all of the panging; it was like someone was smacking a hammer on his head over and over, like a toddler playing with a toy. He could tell it would start to get overwhelming soon, and the last thing he wanted was to embarrass himself in front of Suguru by showing a crack in his perfect exterior. He’d rather leap off a building without Infinity on than let Suguru see him as anything but perfect. “Whatever, let’s just get back to the station, this thing is gonna get worse.” 

“Your headache?”

Satoru couldn’t help but scoff. “What else?” 

Satoru could feel Suguru’s eyes drift from the hand Satoru had against his forehead to all of the nearby stores. Somehow, even with all of these blindingly-bright colors and stimulations, he could still tell exactly what Suguru was doing. 

Honestly, Suguru looked good with all of that. Better, maybe. It felt nice to see his beautiful black hair flowing across his eyes when a gust of wind flew by him. Apparently, it glowed brown under the sunlight, too. He didn’t know that until now, and he’s known Suguru for over a year. 

Man, he wishes he could block out internal things with his technique, too. 

“..Stupid curse,” he couldn’t help but complain out into the silence, forcing an awkward grin. “Why’d it have to cause all of this trouble?”

That was kind of a lie. In actuality, he was sort of thankful for being rushed. 

Imagine that, huh?

“…I’ve got an idea,” 

Satoru turned to look over at Suguru once he heard his voice, being met with the back of his neck. It was slightly red as a result of the summer heat; Satoru could see a single drop of sweat sliding down it. There were two beauty marks, one big, one small. His bun was slightly worn-down, too. 

“An idea for what? How to get us back to our dorms faster?”

“No,” Suguru turned his head in Satoru’s direction with a small smile on his face, and Satoru suddenly got lightheaded. “How to fix that headache of yours.” 

“Huh—“ the word fell out of Satoru’s mouth right before he felt the slight buzz of Suguru’s fingers brushing against his technique, clasping around it and getting as close to actually touching his skin as he could. Even though the sensation he was feeling was his cursed energy and technique reacting to Suguru’s break-in attempt, it still felt like it was real; his face flushed like it was, too. “—Hey!” 

“How do you feel about masks?” 

“Wha— masks?” Satoru’s jaw hung open. “—Dude, are you gonna get me a mask?”

“Who knows,” Suguru laughed, ignoring Satoru’s protests. “It might look good on you.” 

“It’s gonna look stupid,”

“You get what you get and you don’t throw a fit,” 

“Fuck you,” Satoru scoffed, his smile wide and genuine now. When Suguru laughed even more in response, he felt his eyebrows furrow. 

He loved that sound. 

Satoru suddenly turned into Suguru’s dress up doll, with how he was shoving different things on his face to cover his eyes like an imaginative little girl. The store they were in was full of things to embarrass Satoru with, and he was having a blast. Every sour reaction Satoru gave to whatever abomination he decided to sling onto his face next, Suguru’s grin grew wider and wider. How the hell were his cheeks not falling off at this point? 

“Oh, hold on, wait,” Suguru eagerly rambled, grabbing the Infinity between Satoru’s hands to stop him from messing with the mask himself. It was a plain black one, but Satoru knew that if Suguru gave him anything basic, he had something else in mind to make up for it. “Turn your Infinity off, come on, I can’t do this properly if you keep stopping me all the time.” 

“What, dressing me up like a doll?” Satoru pushed down Suguru’s hands for him without realizing, lowering them down to his chest. “Seriously, none of these have looked even decent on me so far. This may as well be insulting.” 

“That’s not my fault,” Suguru chuckled, Satoru briefly catching his eyes wandering down to where Satoru was holding onto him—almost. “Seriously, just turn it off, come on.” 

Suguru’s tone changed. 

What the hell, why did such a subtle difference in tone make Satoru feel like he could freeze? 

It took all—genuinely, all—of his strength to keep himself from making some sort of embarrassing facial reaction or sound to whatever the hell he just heard, swallowing, swallowing it down his throat like a massive horse pill and sealing it with as much duct tape as he could. 

Normally, he’d be bitching back at him right now, right? So, he’ll do that. Surely, surely he won’t fuck it up. 

“—Fine, fine, I will,” 

His tone cracked on that second “fine”. He fucked it up. 

Suguru damn well noticed it, too. Oh my god, he wanted to die. Drop dead right then and there.

He steeled his facial expression back to his usual confident smile, closing his eyes to avoid whatever look Suguru was giving him as he followed his demands. The cursed energy around them expanded, then suddenly shifted. 

“Alright, there,” he huffed, trying his best to get back to how he usually was. “Happy now?” 

Suguru’s eyes drifted down to their hands, still being held by Satoru’s grip, and he tilted his head. Satoru’s hands flew away from Suguru’s own almost immediately, forcing the warmth he felt crawling up his throat to go right back down. No way in fucking hell is he going to let himself blush like a kid at just this, he’s better than that. 

“Very,” Suguru replied to his words from before in that same fucking tone, and it was obvious he noticed Satoru’s small freak-out now, damn it. “Now stop squirming.” 

Suguru started playing with Satoru’s hair—pushing some strands out of the way, fluffing up others—and for a while, Satoru was blankly staring down at his face. His smile slowly faded to a comfortable resting expression instead, and he closed his eyes eventually, not wanting to make Suguru feel awkward (more like himself). 

The touches were gentle, slow, and predictable; none of them made Satoru flinch. He rarely has his infinity down, and Suguru knows that. Is this him accommodating for it? Making sure that he doesn’t accidentally overwhelm him? 

…This was taking a little longer than Satoru expected it to. 

“..You know,” Suguru began, his voice back to being gentle; like it always is when Suguru speaks to him. God, Satoru liked this tone a lot, too. “I heard an inkling about your clan’s rules yesterday.”

Satoru sighed. “When?” 

“At lunch,” Suguru replied simply, pushing another strand behind Satoru’s ear. “When you were on the phone.” 

Satoru let out a small disappointed hum, and he could’ve sworn he felt Suguru’s fingers flinch against his hair. 

“Is that why you keep your technique active all the time? Because you feel like you have to?” Suguru continued, his hands briefly leaving Satoru’s hair to grab the mask he had chosen. “I’m sorry for asking you to drop it if that’s why. It must be important to you—“ 

“—No, no, it…” he trailed off, resisting the urge to place his hand over his forehead—his headache was suddenly worse. “…I don’t know what it is, really.”

“What do you mean?” 

“Nothing, it’s fine.” He tried to brush it off, and he could feel the daggers Suguru was glaring at him through his eyelids. “I don’t really want to… talk about this right now, alright?”

“Satoru—“

“We can talk later.” His hand brushed against Suguru’s side briefly, and it was removed before he was given any response. “At home, not some random funky mask shop.” 

“…You sure?”

“Yeah,” Satoru replied softly, subconsciously matching Suguru’s tone. It was reassuring to him, so he only figured that it would be the other way around as well. “I’m sure.”

“…Alright,” 

“Are you going to force this mask on my face now or what?” 

A small smile crept its way back up onto Suguru’s face, and he heard him sigh out of his nose. “This one might actually look good, trust me.” 

“I thought this was for getting something to cover my eyes.”

“Getting a good-looking one would be a good bonus, too.” 

“Mm,” Satoru hummed proudly, and Suguru scoffed. 

“Close your eyes again.” Suguru’s hand crept up the back of Satoru’s neck, and he felt his shoulders slightly raise in reaction. “Don’t want you staring into my soul.”

“It’s not that bad,”

“They glow.” Suguru scoffed. “Don’t give me that.”

While pulling it over his eyes, Suguru slid up his hair in the back to fit under the mask. The sensation of his fingers slowly sliding over and above Satoru’s nape made him feel like he could shiver. 

When he heard Suguru laugh, he forced himself to move on from that—especially the fact that he really, really liked it—and opened his eyes. 

He found himself missing the brown glow of his hair under sunlight even though he had only been looking at it for an hour or two. 

“What are you laughing at?” He scoffed. “Thought you said it would look good,”

“It looks good enough,” Suguru continued to chuckle, pulling it off of Satoru’s head slowly. The sight of his fluffed-up and messy hair made his smile increase. “Ah, now your hair’s everywhere.”

“And who’s fault is that I wonder,” 

“Definitely not mine.”

“Did you really bring me in here just to dress me up, Suguru?” Satoru huffed, crossing his arms as he watched Suguru walk away to put the mask back where he got it from. “I think you’ve gotten enough blackmail material for a month, at least.” 

“Mostly, yeah,” there was no shame in this fucker’s tone. At all. Was it that entertaining? “But, you know, you aren’t complaining about your head hurting as much.”

Satoru’s lips parted. Suguru was right—why wasn’t he complaining?

Ah. It’s because it had calmed down.

Shit, Suguru was making it really fucking hard to keep that door closed. It’s like he was sending gentle gusts of wind at it; prompting Satoru to open it himself. 

When Satoru didn’t respond to him, Suguru turned back around, walking over to him. The closer he got, the more color rose to Satoru’s cheeks. “You alright?”

“—Yeah.” He nodded once; only once. “I’m fine.”

Suguru tilted his head, and Satoru felt like he was going to choke. 

He could feel it, he knew his voice was going to betray him. It was unavoidable. So, he opted for lessening the blow and praying Suguru wouldn’t notice anything anyway, by shortening it down to a single word and lowering his volume as much as he could. “…Thanks.” 

Satoru tried his hardest, that he did, but he could tell that Suguru somehow noticed it anyway. Damn him.

His fingers slid down the side of Satoru’s face, lightly grabbing his chin and tilting his face up. “What’s wrong?” 

Fuck, what the hell? How could he do that sort of thing and not have any reaction to it at all? 

“—Nothing, man, I’m fine.” He shook Suguru’s hand off, looking away from his face. Satoru was afraid of what would happen to himself if he did. “Stop worrying so much.”

He heard the sound of Suguru’s lips disconnecting, as if he was opening them to speak, but he didn’t hear anything after that. When he turned his technique back on, he hoped Suguru noticed. 

Did he really hope that, though? 

God, he couldn’t tell what he wanted anymore. 

♡

Satoru’s never woken up from a dream as violently as he did just now.

He could feel the sweat droplets trickling down his face, even without touching his skin. His breathing was uneven, too.

He stared off into the darkness of his dorm room for what felt like hours, unmoving. 

No, this… wasn’t his room. It was Suguru’s.

Great.

He needs to get up and leave before Suguru wakes up, too.

So why is he not doing just that?

He felt like groaning out into the silence, the only thing he could hear except for the covers shifting as he moved his legs around uncomfortably being the fan and the slight pitter-patter of the rain on the window. 

God, what was he doing? 

He didn’t notice Suguru’s movement as well, nor hear him drowsily call out his name. When he looked down at him, Suguru suddenly sprung up into a halfway-up position, his face displaying concern. 

Satoru’s eyes burned.

Ah. He was crying, wasn’t he?

The cursed energy in the room shifted out, then back in again; he didn’t know what to do. He could feel the growing urge to let Suguru in, let him touch him, comfort him from the sadness even Satoru didn’t know the origin of. 

Thinking that, though, meant he already lost. 

Satoru Gojo never loses. 

“—I’m fine.” He spat the words out like venom. “It’s— my eyes are just dry.” 

He gripped the side of his head hard enough to pop a balloon, settling his chin on his knees and facing forward, ignoring his desire to meet Suguru in the eyes. He was tugging that door closed like a flood was on the other side, suddenly determined to not let anything through. Especially Suguru Geto. 

“My bad. ‘Didn’t mean to wake you up.” He went through all of the usual motions, practically forcing himself off that damn bed. “Goodnight.” 

“Satoru—“ 

The cursed energy shifted back out again, and Suguru was stopped—forced away—before he could even get off the bed. Satoru considered looking back at him—seeing what expression he was making—but if it was anything like what he saw earlier, he knew it was a bad idea to.

“Satoru, wait.” Suguru sat up, going as far as he could without actually touching Infinity’s edge. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing.” Satoru gave the simplest, most dead-pan response he could, opening the door to Suguru’s dorm and sliding out of it in haste. Usually he was excited to enter, not exit. “I told you I’m fine.” 

“You’re crying—“

The door was closed before Suguru could finish. 

It was silent for a moment, but the moment Satoru released his technique, he heard the doorknob start to wobble. 

“Satoru, hold on.” The door flung open anyways, and Satoru couldn’t help but sigh. “You’re crying, you can't expect me to just let you go.” 

Satoru wiped the last few tears off of his face, sucking in a huge puff of air. “I’m not anymore.” 

“Please,” the tone in Suguru’s voice felt like a curse wrapped around his heart. “Tell me what’s wrong.” 

“Nothing is wrong.” Satoru made his tone the opposite; stern and aggressive. He hoped that maybe, if he was rude, it would get Suguru to give up. “It was just— a random nightmare, I don’t even remember what it was about, okay?” 

“Satoru, you’re lying to me.” The asshole persisted anyway. “I can tell.” 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“You said that earlier, too.” 

“And I meant it!” Satoru didn’t care about waking anyone up anymore. “Just— go back to sleep, okay?”

“No, I—“

“Go to sleep, Suguru!” 

Satoru got a brief glimpse of Suguru’s expression before immediately turning away, and he was damn glad he did, because he could tell just from that single second of seeing it that if it was longer than that, he might’ve burst into tears all over again. 

Fuck, why does pushing him away hurt so much? Isn’t that what he’s supposed to—needs to do?

Why can’t his technique block away everything mentally, too? Why does he get the mercy of avoiding physical pain, but he still has to deal with the shit in his head? It’s unfair.

God, it’s so fucking unfair. He can feel his eyes burn all over again.

“Toru.” 

He sucks in air through his teeth so sharply that it sounds like a hiss. 

“…Hey—“

“—Get off.” Satoru pushes away the hand that nearly touches his shoulder. “Just… go to sleep.”

“I—“

“Please.” He can’t believe that he’s resorting to begging him. He sounds pathetic. “Please, go to sleep.” 

They both stand there outside of Suguru’s dorm silently for what feels like eons, and Satoru is barely holding it together. 

“…Okay.” Suguru relents—finally—and his hand slowly reaches for the doorknob. “I’m sorry.” 

Satoru bites his lip so hard it bleeds. 

 ♡

“Special Grade, a ton of reported sightings in a specific small town.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Gonna be a while out. Three hours, probably.”

“Kay.”

“Suguru’s going with you, too.”

Satoru let out the most dramatic, theatrical sigh—sounding more like a groan—and Yaga’s eyebrow twitched. 

“What in the world is up with you, usually you’d be complaining before I said that, not after.” 

“I am not taking a train three hours away from Tokyo.” Satoru completely ignored him, and Yaga let out a frustrated huff.

“You two are the only ones who can do it.” He forced the mission report paper against Satoru’s chest, walking away with heavy footsteps. “I better not hear word of you skipping out.” 

“Then let me go myself.” Satoru snatched the report, crumpling it between his clenched fist. “I’ll be fine—“

“You’re going with Suguru.” Yaga didn’t look back at him. “End of conversation.” 

Satoru’s breath hitched, and he coughed out an annoyed scoff. 

Damn it all, why did he have to get a road trip with Suguru now of all times? He still hasn’t finished all of the thinking he needs to get done, and of course, he’s being shoved into a silent—agonizingly silent—three-hour train ride and a gushy countryside search. 

He slid his hands down his face, groaning out into the hallway. He really, really didn’t want to spend time with Suguru after yesterday. They hadn’t talked since, and he wasn’t ready to break that streak. 

Surely, Yaga’s going to the classroom to tell Suguru as well, right? He doesn’t have to do it himself, right?

No, Yaga isn’t the type to do anything for him—or anyone, for that matter. He’s gonna have to do it himself. Fuck. 

“Mission in a town three hours away, train ride at two,” was all he managed to spit out.

Suguru looked at him with low eyelids. 

♡

“It says that there’s no apparent pattern with who it targets, so we might have to try experimenting for a while,”

“Mhm,”

“Satoru.” The paper was clenched again. It might not survive a third time. “I’m serious.” 

“I know, I know,” he hadn’t been paying attention at all, and Suguru’s tone meant he knew that. 

Suguru sighed, then went back to his silence. He had a frown on his face, and Satoru couldn’t tell if he was actually mad at him, or if it was just their usual banter. 

The fact that he couldn’t tell alone kind of… worried him. 

Ugh, that’s gross. What else can he focus on? 

“—Cursed residuals.” He pointed at a rock path rather dramatically. “Along that pathway.” 

He wasn’t lying either, thank god, there were genuinely residuals over there. This would surely get Suguru chitter-chattering again—he always gets focused once curses are involved. 

“Ah,” was all that Suguru said. 

That’s it? Holy shit, is he actually bothered by their ‘talk’ last night? 

Satoru could feel a droplet of sweat trickle down his face; he was just now kind of… feeling like a douche. Eugh, Satoru Gojo, feeling guilty? 

“See anything else?” Suguru’s tone was blank, carrying a hint of sourness, like a piece of candy; usually, it was far more gentle. 

Is Suguru actually upset? 

“…Yeah.” Satoru replied, clearing his throat. “It keeps going.”

“In what direction?”

“There.” He pointed once more. “Over towards those houses.”

Suguru clicked his tongue, then started along the way Satoru had brought attention to. He couldn’t help but look at his bare neck as he walked away, his hair tied all the way up to the edge; a counter-measure he ended up taking to help against Satoru yanking off his hair tie whenever he felt like it. 

He felt the urge growing back up again, but it was kind of obvious that the mood wouldn’t really permit that. 

A sigh from Suguru made Satoru blink twice. “There’s people in those.”

“—Yeah?” 

“Mm.” Suguru attempted to pat Satoru’s shoulder, but all that Satoru felt was the buzz of his technique blocking him. “You keep following the trail past them, I’ll go get them out. It’s probably around here somewhere.” 

Satoru listened; following the trails is what he did. For over twenty minutes, actually. It was all just a huge circle, like the thing was running a marathon, and he was annoyed at first. Then again, he knows what that usually means. 

He was about to yell his discovery out in Suguru’s direction, expecting a snarky comeback from him like he usually gives, shouting at each other like idiots instead of doing the simple thing and meeting up halfway. However, before he could even open his mouth, he felt a wave of cursed energy brought up by a technique he knew all too well. 

He knew Suguru could take care of himself, he had no doubt about that, but with the tone he had been speaking to him with today, he felt like he should at least bump up his attitude a little. Still, he expected him to be fine. 

He was wrong again. He wasn’t. 

He was prioritizing the people in the houses over himself. They were all behind him, using him as a human shield—likely from his own suggestion, of fucking course. 

His curses can’t shield all of them, especially not the toddler he was carrying in his arms. Is Suguru stupid? He’s going to get himself hurt.

“Suguru—“

“Satoru, get them somewhere safe!” His curse blocked another blow, the recoil disturbing his stance and causing the child to clutch their tiny fingers around his uniform. He shielded her from the blood that splattered onto them, his hand staining purple. “I’ve got this for now!”

“What the hell, where did it come from?!” 

“The forest! It was hiding in the forest!” Rainbow Dragon was already clawing out as a result of Suguru’s technique, and the parents of the child and their other, likely ten to twelve years old, were already rushing towards Satoru at the simple flick of Suguru’s wrist. Suguru faced Satoru’s direction, holding out the toddler in his hands. “Come here, take her!” 

“Seriously? You’re making me babysit again?” Satoru protested, and yet he took the child anyway. Suguru knew he had to keep his Infinity down to take her, and he used Rainbow Dragon as a shield to protect him while he was doing so. 

“Shut up and go,” Suguru took the opportunity to touch—actually touch—Satoru’s shoulder. “Get them to the other houses nearby, then run back. Alright?” 

“Fine, okay,” Satoru nodded his head, his tone still displaying annoyance—and yet, he did as he was told, like always. 

He was lucky—extremely lucky—that he was nowhere near the curse’s attack range. He could tell why Suguru was the one carrying this girl now—him and Satoru were probably the only ones who could carry her and still run fast enough. The other three were already annoyingly slow as is. 

She was clutching onto Satoru’s back like her life depended on it—it kind of did—and it made Satoru nervous. He’s never been good at taking care of kids, so he’s thankful that all he has to do right now is carry her. 

“Alright, stay here,” he huffed once he got far enough—just far enough—handing the girl over to her mother. Her tiny fingers stretched out in her direction, waving her hands and crying at her like it had been an eternity since she was last in her mother’s arms. “Go run to nearby houses or whatever, I’m going back to Suguru. Don’t go back to yours until we tell you it’s safe.” 

The mother nodded profusely, and Satoru was running back before she could give her thanks. He didn’t really care about them right now—he never did. 

“Suguru!” Satoru shouted, his technique right back on. “I got ‘em away, now what the hell is up with this one?” 

“Hold on, back up,” Suguru held his hand out, and when Satoru didn’t listen, he swung it out instead. Satoru nearly tripped over himself. “Back up!”  

“What?!” He spat the words out like he usually did, but he noticed something was off fairly quickly. His tone dropped. “—Where the hell are your curses, Suguru?!” 

“That’s why I’m telling you to back the hell up!” Suguru let out a frustrated garble of sounds once his hand was blocked by Satoru’s technique. Was he thinking clearly? The fuck was wrong with him? 

“Dude—“ 

“It deactivated my technique!” They both fell to the ground, Satoru feeling blades of grass scrape against Infinity. “I can’t summon my damn curses, Satoru, don’t let it touch you!” 

“It hit you?!” Satoru’s eyes widened as he scrambled to get up. Suguru was clutching at the Infinity above Satoru’s wrist so hard that the buzz felt like electricity—did he want to grab onto him that badly? “—Hold on, are you okay?” 

“I’m fine, just— get up,” Suguru was scrambling over his words, and Satoru could see how tense his expression was. “I have no idea if it’ll do anything if it manages to touch your technique, so just to be safe, stay away from it!” 

“It can’t deactivate my technique if it can’t touch me, Suguru, get off!” Satoru forced out the expanse of his technique, flinging Suguru back; away from the curse, but also, away from himself. Suguru’s expression faltered for a moment, and Satoru felt his eyebrows furrow. “If you can’t use yours, get out of here, you won’t do shit against it with your fists or a puny cursed tool if it’s that fucking big!”

“And leave you here? Hell no!” Suguru was slung over to the side; apparently they were switching turns helping each other evade the attacks. They were simple, but Satoru could tell from the output amount that they would pack a punch; there was also the whole disabling-cursed-techniques-upon-touch thing, too. 

Why the hell was he doing this? Suguru knows about Satoru’s technique, fuck, he always has the thing on, even when Suguru tries to touch him. Rarely, rarely has Suguru not been stopped, so he should know better than anyone that nothing—he means nothing—can touch Satoru when he has it on. 

Satoru will be fine, but Suguru won’t. Why does he keep trying to prioritize and protect Satoru anyway? Thinking about it logically, it’s stupid. So utterly, fucking outrageously, stupid. 

He wanted to just blast the thing with Blue—it’d be quick and easy, even against a Special Grade—but he knew Suguru would give him shit for that. “You could accidentally hit the surrounding houses, are you really going to leave people without a home?”, he’d probably say. God, Suguru can be so frustrating sometimes, so what? It wouldn’t matter if any of them were dead, would it?

Suguru always cared far more about regular people than himself, it pissed Satoru off. Take earlier, for example: if he had made one single step a second later, he would’ve gotten nasty gnashes in his side, simply because he’d rather get hit than let the other people he was protecting get hit. 

“What’s wrong with that, I’ll be fine!” Satoru’s tone was leaking more anger than he intended it to.

“Why do you keep completely disregarding your well-being, Satoru?!” 

Satoru felt his voice choke within his throat. 

“I— just—“ 

That’s not fair—not fair at all. Suguru’s the same way, why is it only wrong when he does it? Why is it wrong at all if there’s a good reason? 

Satoru Gojo’s well-being doesn’t matter, it only gets in the way of his strength. Suguru bossing him around about it doesn’t help, either. 

“Because I have to, okay?!” He coughed the words out, his tone bouncing up and down like an unstable bridge. “You do the same!” 

“I’m protecting people, Satoru, it’s our job!” Suguru’s expression looked like he was both angry and sad, all at the same time. His tone didn’t really help Satoru discern between the two either. “Bottling things up and acting like you don’t matter isn’t!” 

“Yes it is!”

It was like the entire fight wasn’t happening anymore. The movements and dodges they made were automated; Satoru’s were, at least. The only thing he was really focusing on was the words that were being thrown. 

“My job since I was born has been to be the strongest, Suguru, and acting like a baby all the time doesn’t help that!” 

“Having emotions isn't childish at all!” 

“It’s definitely weak, that’s what it is!” 

“Satoru, it’s—“

A sudden burst of blue among all of the black made Satoru’s shoulders tense. 

Satoru had just pushed Suguru back to avoid one attack, and there was another already. Except this time, Satoru could tell that it was bigger. The cursed energy within it was huge—way larger than the others—and Satoru instinctively knew that getting hit by it was not a good idea. 

He could see Suguru’s technique on the brink of being revitalized—a small little glimmering blue in his chest. Still, it wouldn’t be fast enough. 

His mind went blank, and he acted on instinct. He had no idea what he was doing until it had already been done. 

No fucking way in hell is he letting Suguru get hit with that when he knows just how dangerous it is. 

Satoru had a single second to get to him before the attack landed. His hand reached out as fast as it could, and a wave of cursed energy was sucked in like a vacuum; his Infinity was off. 

The millisecond Satoru’s fingers brushed against Suguru’s own, the energy was flushed right back out. 

He was doing something that was forbidden; a line that no Limitless has ever crossed. 

Fuck that stupid line. Satoru didn’t care about lines, who the hell cares about lines? They’re ridiculous, pointless, outrageous, every insult in the book. 

Satoru is not letting Suguru die. He’ll dissect what this implies later—when Suguru’s safe. 

Besides, why is this possible if it was never meant to be used? 

The attack slammed into Suguru’s side, his eyes clenched closed to brace for impact; they opened wide in surprise when all he—they—felt was a sting. 

Satoru was right on time; if he had stalled for even a moment—questioned himself over whether doing this was really worth the repercussions, if Suguru was worth the repercussions—he wouldn’t have made it. That alone was enough to make the knot in his chest tighten so hard it felt like he was suffocating. 

Satoru clenched Suguru’s hand so strongly that he probably could’ve broken it had he implied reinforcement, and Suguru was pulled over in his direction so fast that they both fell onto the ground with an echoing thud. Satoru never let go of Suguru’s hand, not even for a second.

Now that one problem was taken care of, Satoru’s eyes shifted to the next one. 

Fuck those damn houses. 

Suguru attempted to push himself off of Satoru’s chest, his expression faltering and his tone rising high. “What’re you—“

“Stop moving.”

A massive blue light shot past the edges of their eyes, and Satoru’s expression tensed. He was trying his best to control its directory and how strong it was; he wanted to keep it on that curse. 

Just as he thought, a single maximum output Blue was all it took to decimate the bastard; it hadn't even been a minute before it was gone. For all of that struggle, it barely took a thing; it was probably the type to rely on people not knowing how to fight without their techniques. Sure, some of the houses had been damaged—like he knew Suguru would’ve bitched at him for—but Suguru wasn’t badly hurt. Honestly, he couldn’t give a shit about whether they had homes or not anymore. After that whole thing, he’d rather sit through the lecture. 

Suguru had attempted to sit up multiple times throughout that, and was only met with Satoru dragging him back down. He only let him once it was exorcised; of course, he got shit for that, too. 

“Did you seriously exorcise it?” Suguru’s face rose above Satoru’s, and he huffed. Satoru couldn’t help but notice multiple stray strands of hair that had escaped his bun hanging over his face. “That one could've been useful, you know.”

“Shut up,“ Satoru’s voice was shaky, and he could feel something crawling up his throat. “I can’t exactly paralyze them like you can…”

Suguru was right, that curse would’ve been useful—very useful, actually. However, in the moment, Satoru didn’t care about that. He just wanted that thing dead, so that’s what he made happen. 

Suguru’s mouth opened to speak again, Satoru preparing himself for one of Suguru’s usual lectures, but no noise came out of it; he simply stared at Satoru in silence. Was he even thinking? It looked like absolutely no thoughts were going through his head. It was kind of funny, honestly. 

“Wait,” the words fell out of Suguru’s mouth. “I’m… touching you.” 

“…Yeah,” Satoru couldn’t help but clear his throat. “No shit, dude.”

“How? I can tell you have your technique up…” Suguru was… speaking his thoughts out loud. At least Satoru knows he has them now. “Are you…?”

Suguru leaned down further to Satoru’s face, his hands resting against the edge of Satoru’s neck, and Satoru’s breathing got even worse, along with fire shooting up his throat. He’s gonna need to put his whole ass into hiding it now. 

“…I’m not supposed to do this sort of thing.” He couldn’t help but breathe as he spoke, the words sometimes shaking as a consequence. It was all he could do. “It’s kind of… forbidden, you know?” 

Satoru gave an awkward chuckle—the best one he could give through his growing exhaustion—and Suguru’s face suddenly tensed. 

“I thought your clan rules were… important to you.” Satoru felt Suguru’s fingers brush against his vocal cords. Thank god he wasn’t talking right now. “Why did you break them for—“

“Would you rather I just—“ his voice was cracking. Shit. “—let you die?” 

“I would’ve been fine without—“ 

“No, you wouldn’t.” 

When Satoru sat up, Suguru came with him, his hands sliding down to the bottom of Satoru’s chest. 

A thousand scenarios flooded into Satoru’s mind. The realization of this wasn’t sudden—it was delayed.

Suguru really could’ve died. 

“You would’ve—“ 

“Hey,” 

“Just—“ He choked on the words like they were stuck in his throat. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop his voice from shaking. “Come here.”

Just a single second after his arms were around Suguru’s back, moving his hands around across the thick fabric—making sure Suguru was really there—he even surprised himself with how relieved the sigh he let out was. 

He was fine a bit ago—he swore he was. It’s like all of the feelings and urges he had been suppressing just shot through his body like lightning. Why was he so desperate for him now? 

He exhaled, inhaled, then buried his face into the crook of Suguru’s neck with a hum. He couldn’t see what expression Suguru was making, and he hoped it wasn’t a displeased one so fucking badly that if they were in any other situation, he would’ve let go by now. And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to. He felt like he needed to make sure Suguru was okay himself—just a quick hug wouldn’t satisfy that urge. Satoru needed an embrace, and an embrace was what he was getting. 

When he heard Suguru sigh as well, it felt like an anvil was lifted off Satoru’s shoulders. Suguru’s body slowly relaxed, folding into Satoru’s touch like a delicate piece of paper, and his hands settled themselves against the top of Satoru’s waist, moving up and down his spine like he was trying to console him. He made no effort to escape, move, complain, at all. He let Satoru hold him, and he held him back. 

Honestly, even though this soft, soft embrace was the result of Satoru being scared out of his mind for the first time ever—he’d have to think about that thoroughly later—he’s never been more comfortable in his life, and he’s seen real good mattresses. He couldn’t bring himself to let go just yet; both because of comfort, and also, reassurance. 

They’ve had hugs before—long ones, yes—but they’ve never lasted as long as this one. He has no idea how much time has passed, and frankly, it’s the last thing in his mind right now. 

Satoru was about to ask himself if this was normal, and he felt stupid for it; of course it’s fucking not, but he’ll think about that later—he’ll think about everything later. Right now, it’s Suguru, not missions or curses or internal crises, whatever—Suguru. 

“…Hey,” Suguru’s voice was so gentle, so quiet that Satoru may not have heard it if he weren’t actively being pulled away. He briefly felt disappointed, but his attention was back on Suguru’s expression; worry was coating it once more. “I’m alright. It’s okay.”

“…I know.” Satoru attempted to give his usual snarky remark, the delayed embarrassment setting in now that they were face-to-face, but of course, he failed. “Of course you’re okay. Yeah.” 

“Toru,” 

“Mmph.” 

“Thank you.” Suguru’s mouth shifted into a smile—a damn beautiful one. “You saved me earlier, didn’t you?”

“Uh-huh,” Satoru figured it was better when they weren’t talking. At least he had something else to focus on other than feeling like a fool now that the relief and panic had washed away; he was sure Suguru was okay now. Still, his breathing hasn’t gotten back to normal completely yet; it was a little frustrating. “You would’ve been screwed without me.”

“Yes,” Suguru agreed, kind of to Satoru’s surprise—he expected more of a game to ensue, like usual. Suguru’s words were accompanied by an awkward laugh, “I think I would have.”

Satoru looked at him in silence for a moment, simply wondering—also, actively ignoring how warm his face was starting to feel; he’s not dealing with that right now. He clicked his tongue. “What is with you and laughing at your own suffering?” 

“I could say the same about you,” 

“No you couldn’t.” 

“Shut up,” Suguru kept laughing anyway. “And sit still.”

“Wha—“ Satoru stuttered, his head lurching back like he was a frightened cat jumping into the air at the slightest movement. “—The fuck are you doing?”

“Getting debris and obscure shit out of your hair,” Suguru scoffed. “Relax, I’m not attacking you or anything.” 

“Don’t talk about fighting, I’ve had enough of that for today.” 

“Uh-huh,” Satoru swore that he saw Suguru roll his eyes at him. “Me, too.” 

Satoru’s breath hitched, even though he was trying so hard to regulate it, and he couldn’t help but drop his eyes and let out a frustrated noise in response to his failure. When he looked back up, Suguru’s own eyes were already glued to his face. 

“Hey… hey,” Suguru’s hands were on Satoru’s shoulders and he was back to speaking to him in that voice before Satoru even processed his gaze. “It’s okay.”

“I’m— not a child, you don’t…” Satoru huffed, forcing a smile onto his face in an effort to make it appear like he was fine, that he was strong—that he was still in control. “…need to coach me through a stupid breathing exercise or something.”

“Quiet, just follow.” Suguru continued anyway, pointing at his mouth then putting his hand back to where it was before. 

Suguru inhaled, exhaled—in, out—and even though Satoru found it annoying, he followed. In, out… slowly.

“There you go,” Suguru’s voice was so soft Satoru felt like he could fall asleep. “Good.”

“…This is embarrassing,” 

“You’re fine, Toru,” Suguru continued to reassure him, gently. “I’m not judging you.” 

“I don’t—“ Satoru paused between breaths, still willingly following along with what Suguru was showing him to do, despite acting like it was the worst thing in the world. “—understand why,” 

“You were worried.” Suguru’s hands were so close to Satoru’s neck now that he felt his fingers brush against his skin, above the collar of his uniform. “I’d be acting like this too if I was you.”

“I’m not—“ 

“This is normal.” Suguru’s thumbs settled down, and Satoru was hoping with all of his might that the warmth on his face wasn’t flowing down to his nape. “It’s not shameful.”

Suguru’s wrong, wrong, he has to be. Satoru’s being vulnerable right now—being weak. Every single person in his life up until now has drilled into his very core that this—this—is wrong. 

Suguru looked at Satoru’s frustrated facial expression for a moment—Satoru could feel it—and then, like an insane person, slid his right hand up to the back of Satoru’s head, combing through delicate hair strands slowly, then gently guided his forehead to rest against Suguru’s own. Suguru’s breathing got louder, more dramatic, as if he was trying to keep Satoru on-pace; it was working well. 

The sound of Suguru’s breathing was more calming than Satoru was willing to admit. 

“Relax, Toru,” Suguru’s voice calmed him down instantly; he obeyed his command with no hesitation, like Suguru had sent a signal directly to his brain. His eyes were closed, and his shoulders were limp. 

Satoru was embarrassed—so embarrassed—at how he was acting right now. He felt like a child, having to be coached out of a panic like this. And yet, deep down, he loved it; Suguru was the one calming him, after all. Still, his ego was a little too high; he wasn’t willing to accept that fact yet, even though he knew it to be true. 

He let out another frustrated sound—quieter this time—and it ended up sounding like a whimper instead of a regular hum. A whimper. Fuck, could he make this any worse for himself? 

He noticed a small—small—difference in Suguru’s exhale preluding his mistake. Like telepathy, he immediately understood that it was Suguru responding to it; trying to comfort him. 

“…If you tell anyone about this,” Satoru huffed. “I’m killing you.” 

His breathing was back to normal—mostly—and the endlessly contorting uneasiness in his chest had stopped, and the relief of such a fact on Suguru’s face glowed like a newly-replaced lightbulb. 

Suguru slid his fingers up to the edge of Satoru’s jawline with a hummed chuckle, and Satoru wished they were on his face instead. “Alright, then.”

The hand on the back of Suguru’s head slid itself back to the side of Satoru’s neck, and after a moment of silence—comfortable silence—fulfilled Satoru’s wish. 

Ah, it feels wonderful. 

“…Right,” the hands were off as soon as they were on, and all Satoru’s eyes could do was slightly lower their lids, not close. He felt the urge to complain, but he knew that wasn’t a good idea. “We need to go tell those folks that—“

When Suguru stopped himself, Satoru felt a droplet of sweat trickle down his face. 

“…The houses, Satoru?” 

He couldn’t help but cough. 

♡

“You aren’t sleeping in my room anymore,” 

“Huh?” 

“I said,” Suguru snapped his fingers, once, twice. “You aren’t sleeping in my room anymore.”

“…Is that really a—“

“What gives?” His arms were crossed now. “You love doing that, don’t you?” 

Satoru was in the middle of sucking up as many ramen noodles as he could at once; a very important task. His facial expression likely wasn’t very flattering. Does Suguru have to ask him this question now?

“Can this not wait till I’m—“ he slurped up more noodles. “—not in the middle of something?”

Suguru was… very obviously disappointed. 

“Swallow.”

“But—“

“Swallow.”

He did as he was told with a huff. “It’s gonna be cold by the time you’re done interrogating me.”

“As if you don’t have the money to buy another.” Suguru scoffed, and Satoru’s scowl only made his smug smirk increase. “Now, come on. Answer my question.”

“…Do I have to?”

“Yes.” He sounded like he wanted to throw Satoru off a bridge. “Seriously, I thought we were getting somewhere.”

Satoru sat his cup down. “Somewhere where?”

“You know— somewhere,” now his tone sounded slightly awkward. “Like, with the whole opening up thing, and… stuff.” 

“…Mm.”

“…Why aren’t you sleeping in my room anymore?” 

Satoru’s mouth still felt a little hot—from the ramen, of course. What else would it be?

“Why do you… care… about that?” 

This whole thing was a little too… awkward for Satoru’s tastes. He felt like leaping away like a kangaroo, but he knew he’d just get his collar snatched. 

Suguru closed his eyes, a droplet of sweat trickling down his face. He took a large, large inhale through his nose, pushing the air out through his mouth. “I… miss… it.” 

Satoru’s jaw fell open; not too much, but enough where he’d eventually start drooling like a dumbass if he didn’t fix it. 

“I miss it.” Suguru huffed the words out. “Okay?” 

It’s funny how they were chatting about random things—schoolwork, Shoko’s new overly-concerning gimmick, anything that came to mind—over two spicy-flavored konbini ramen cups just a moment ago; the taste was still in Satoru’s mouth. How the fuck did they get to this?

More importantly, Suguru has always acted like he hates when Satoru sleeps in his room. Is he lying to him right now? Some twisted revenge ploy? Is Shoko rubbing off on him—are they in kahoots or something? 

Then again, Satoru really has been distancing himself recently. That whole wake-up-call mission was two weeks ago now, and it made Satoru really rethink his entire identity—genuinely. He’s getting a midlife crisis now instead of when he’s thirty? He’s so fucked. 

Everything about his current situation was fucked, scratch that. How is he supposed to just— erase years and years of philosophy from his mind? He was brought up on this shit, it was everything he ever knew, fuck, it was drilled into his head like he was some house for his clan members to build however they saw fit. He might not care about it, but still, he’s feeling odd about breaking it; who wouldn’t feel odd about their roof collapsing, even if it was a stupidly ugly house that they hated? He wishes he wasn’t, he’d love more than anything to tell those stupid builders to go fuck themselves, but he can’t control that. 

Anything he can’t control is always related to Suguru in some way, isn’t it? 

“…It’s kind of hard to just…” his voice was low. He didn’t mean for it to be. “…go back to how things were before after that. Like it’s normal.” 

Sleeping in the same bed as his best friend wasn’t really ever “normal” to begin with. They never did anything then, they just, you know, slept—still, that alone was… odd. 

Satoru hasn’t been able to tell what’s going on with them—what they are—for a while now. At this point, there’s no use dwelling on it anymore. 

“After… what?” Suguru’s voice was quiet, yet still carried that token hint of concern. It kind of… woke Satoru up. 

“—I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, okay?” He instinctively scratched the back of his neck. It wasn’t itchy, he just felt like it was better to do something than just sit there like a duck. “I’m not mad at you or anything.” 

“Satoru, that’s not what I meant, just— my bad, here, I’ll be direct." Suguru sat down onto the concrete with a sigh, joining Satoru on the ground. His uniform was probably covered in dust, and now, Suguru’s will be too. “I want to know why you’re avoiding talking with me.”

“…I’m not.” Satoru fiddled with the basic wooden chopsticks between his fingers. “That much,” 

“Toru, you love annoying me more than anything, and I’ve been stress-free for days now.” Suguru scoffed. It kind of pissed Satoru off. “That’s not normal.” 

That’s incorrect. Obviously Satoru has something he loves more than that. 

…It might be sitting right next to him. Might, he says, might.

“You don’t know everything about me,”

“Yes, I do,” Suguru’s scoff evolved into a laugh—a stupidly pretty one. “I know a lot about you, don’t act like you’re some mysterious main character.” 

“What if I am?”

“Then you need a new writer.” Suguru pursed his lips. “Your current one sucks.”

The corner of Satoru’s mouth couldn’t help but raise into a smirk. He nudged Suguru’s shoulder with his elbow, and Suguru’s laugh returned.

“See?” Suguru’s figure visibly relaxed. “I knew I could get that out of you.”

God, that fucker pissed Satoru off. He really doesn’t want to let him win. 

“…Did you miss me sleeping in your bed with you, or…” Satoru could feel warmth crawling up his throat and settling on his face. This time, he could tell that it wasn’t the cup ramen. “…Did you miss me?”

The gentle smile that grew onto Suguru’s face made Satoru feel like his chest was going to melt. “If I say you, will you tell me what you’ve been thinking about?”  

Satoru sighed. 

This was the first time in his life that he wanted to tell someone what was going through his head.

He’s starting to think that wanting that might not actually be a bad thing—just like Suguru had told him.

“Later,” he finally spoke. “I’ll tell you later, okay?”

“Toru,” Suguru’s face was dawning a concerned frown now. Satoru knew what that meant.

“I mean it this time, I swear.” Satoru’s hand was reaching for Suguru’s before he even responded; hearing him say his name like that was like the lighter to a candle. When Suguru only continued to give him that look, Satoru doubled down, saying again, “I swear, Suguru.” 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” Satoru couldn’t help but chuckle—it’s not that serious, why is Suguru trying so hard? “Just— meet me outside at… two-ish, okay? The usual spot.”

“You better not be dragging me out there that late just to give me another ‘I’ll tell you later’ after this one.” Suguru crossed his arms. 

“I swear I won’t dude, I swear.” Satoru’s chuckling shifted into laughter. “God, what is this, an oath?”

“Should we make an oath?”

“No!” Satoru could tell his smile was wide enough where Suguru could see his gums. “Seriously, eat your food, man!” 

“Hm,” Suguru held his hand to the side of the cup. “Ah, it’s cold.”

“Ugh,” Satoru stood up with his limbs dangling and swinging around like a ragdoll. “I’ll go get some more.” 

“Thank you,”

“Yeah, yeah.”

♡

One fifty-five. 

Satoru was staring out his dorm window; he had been for the past… twenty-ish minutes? He can’t really remember. The stars were just way prettier than normal tonight for some reason. 

He changed out of his uniform ages ago—he never keeps it on longer than he needs to, a regular pair of sweatpants and a white T-shirt is far better than that scruffy fabric. Plus, he could feel the cool breeze along his neck; you can’t get that with a neck cover, can you? 

He slowly took his phone out of his pants pockets and flipped it open, checking the time. 

One fifty-six.

Ugh, this is the longest five minutes of Satoru’s life. 

He tried to sigh, but he ended up sneezing instead—twice. He looked back up through the window between sniffles, and what he saw instead of the stars made him want to leap out to his death. 

 Suguru—the spying piece of shit—was right there, and saw the whole thing. Of course he had to show up when Satoru’s face was scrunched like a toddler eating broccoli except for when he probably looked good as hell with the cool breeze. Seriously? 

“You sneeze like an old man,” the fucker laughed. 

Satoru might punch him straight in the face. 

“I’m gonna knock you off that stupid dragon.” 

“You named him,” Suguru held his hand out in Satoru's direction, like he was extending an invitation. “I don’t think you mean that.” 

Satoru scoffed. 

“I named pretty much all of your curses,” He relented,  taking his hand. “They’re all the same to me.”

“Lie again,”

“Nuh-uh,” 

“Come on,” Suguru laughed through his words, a pretty, pretty smile crawling up his face. “Come here, Toru.” 

Fuck, that voice—that nickname, too, how is he suppose to enact his vengeance now? 

“God, you make this hard,” Satoru couldn’t help but laugh as well. Suguru has to be carrying an infectious disease, why does that always happen? 

Suguru kept laughing anyway, oh my god, this asshole. 

He loves him so goddamn much. 

Satoru took his usual place on the dragon’s back—the same spot every time, without fail—and it began to move again. Before long, Satoru’s view changed from speckles of blue in the air and the leaves of the trees to tiny, tiny dots of all of the people in the sea of buildings below. 

Suguru had stopped actively piloting and was letting the curse drift around of its own whim, and Satoru began to take his shades off. When he was blessed with colors, he didn’t admire any of the ones below. 

Suguru was the first place he looked, and apparently, Suguru had the same idea. 

“Your eyes aren’t glowing as much up here.” 

“Mm,” Satoru had a soft smile on his face—he couldn’t help it. The breeze was nice, yes, but it was who he was with that mattered the most. “I’m just not using my technique, that’s why.”

“No, they still glow.”

Satoru’s lips parted. 

“A little bit,” Suguru’s own smile shifted slightly. “Not as much, but they always do.”

“And how do you know that? You been staring at my eyes all the time?”

“Yeah,” he didn’t offer any elaboration besides that single word, and Satoru could already feel his heartbeat in his chest.

Suguru shifted to let his legs dangle down the dragon’s side, Satoru closer to him now. He turned to look at him, gently grabbing his glasses from his hands with one and holding up his own face with the other. He was wearing an anticipating look—he was waiting for Satoru to talk, wasn’t he?

Of course he was. 

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” 

“Fine, nothing,” Satoru couldn’t help but cave before he felt that heartbeat crawl up places it shouldn’t. 

Suguru let out one single laugh—a soft one—and Satoru’s lungs crunched with his breath. 

“I have been— you know, thinking,” Satoru slowly scooched forward as well, and he could feel Suguru’s eyes move as he did so. “About… a lot of things.”

“Like what?” 

Suguru’s voice was gentle now—quieter. Satoru didn’t realize that he had been staring at him for a little too long before he noticed something on his arm. 

“…Where did you get that?” 

Suguru blinked once, twice. “Hm?”

“That,” Satoru pointed, and Suguru’s eyes almost instantly shifted. “Did you not go to Shoko?”

“Ah,” Suguru’s fingers slid along the cut on his arm—not red, it had been cleaned at the very least—and Satoru saw his eyebrows move ever-so-slightly. “It’s alright, it’s not that bad.”

“That’s not what I asked, Suguru.”

“I may have…” Suguru trailed off, his pointer finger nervously sliding down the side of his own face. His tone was awkward, like he was a toddler who had been caught doing something they weren’t supposed to be doing by their mother—like he knew he was in trouble. “…been in too much of a rush to get to you, so… I just splashed some water on it.” 

Satoru let out a disappointed huff of air, and he saw Suguru’s shoulders drop in response to it. 

“Give me that,” 

“It’s fine, Satoru—“

“Uh-uh,” Satoru pulled his arm close anyway. “I said give.” 

Suguru scoffed, but made no effort to pull himself away. 

Satoru reached into his pockets and dug through the little stash of bandaids he had put in there a few hours ago. He doesn’t remember why now, and he doesn’t really care—all he’s thinking about is how he’s thankful he did so. 

“Really?” Suguru’s tone carried a hint of disbelief; a lower octave.

“Mhm,” was all Satoru said in reply as he took off the bandaid’s cover. 

He had found one barely big enough to cover the whole cut, so he had to focus to get that thing in the right position. Apparently, it was amusing to Suguru to see him like such, cause he kept hearing tiny chuckles and giggles from him throughout. He didn’t reply to them until he was finished. 

“This can’t possibly be ticklish,” 

“No, no,” Suguru laughed between his words. “You’re sticking your tongue out over a bandaid, Toru.”

Satoru suddenly felt embarrassed. “It was hard to get it on right.”

“Uh-huh,” Suguru’s tone pissed him off. “Sure.” 

They’d been like this for a while now—about fifteen minutes, surely. How come Suguru hasn’t said it yet?

“You’re going to Shoko when we get back.”

“It is far too late for that.”

“Don’t care,” Satoru shrugged. “She’ll be awake.”

“You sure about that?”

“She’s probably smoking out a window or something, we’ll find her.” 

Satoru didn’t want more comebacks or anything like that—he was waiting for something specific to leave Suguru’s mouth. 

It was about time for it, surely. Was Suguru off schedule? 

“Come on, baby—” 

There it was. Suguru drops that from time to time, and always, always, it slams into Satoru’s heart like a dumbbell. 

“—I can see her in the morning.” 

Suguru’s hand was reaching for Satoru’s arm, and he’d be an idiot to make any attempt to stop it. 

Satoru has no idea why, especially since it started up one day out of nowhere, but Suguru only ever really says that when they’re… close, like they are now. Inches away from each other; that kind of close. When there’s a sort of oddness in the air, but in a good, comfortable way. In certain moments. 

Craving to hear it again made Satoru want to close the already-small gap between their bodies even more. 

He loved the way that sounded against Suguru’s lips. Don’t ask him why; he won’t have an answer. One that’s telligible, at least. 

He just… likes to hear it. 

He’s starting to learn that liking something doesn’t always need to be questioned to be validated. 

“I’ll be fine.” Suguru’s fingers slid across the skin on Satoru’s wrist. “Can I have my arm back now?” 

Satoru looked at him for a moment, then tossed it back with a huff. 

“Now,” Suguru’s face was resting in his palm once more. “You were telling me something?”

The facial expression Suguru was making made Satoru ruin his own train of thought. “…Are you sure you don’t need any— ointment or some shit,”

“Toru,”

“Mmph.” He swung his head forward. “Fine.” 

Satoru stared down at his feet for a while, trying to find the right words to start with without embarrassing himself and ruining it, and Suguru sat patiently through it all. When he opened his mouth, ready to speak, Suguru’s face made him falter.

Suguru’s expression was relaxed, and yet focused; he looked like listening to Satoru speak was his favorite thing in the world, and yet, he hadn’t said a single word. 

Fuck, how is he supposed to spill out his guts like a baby if Suguru keeps looking at him like that?

He knows what he wants to say, he knows, but he can’t get the words out of his damn throat. It’s frustrating. 

He looked over at Suguru with a hesitant expression, a single droplet of sweat sliding down his cheek. Sighing as he spoke, like letting out a breath of air after breaching the surface of the sea, he opened his mouth to finally mumble, “…Come closer.” 

Suguru’s eyes slightly widened, and like he was given a command, it was executed instantly with no hesitation. He was by Satoru’s side within seconds, their thighs touching through their clothing. Baggy pants, and regular tights. 

It’s funny how different they can be—Satoru could never wear those humongous things, he’d trip over himself and fall—and yet so similar. 

“…I just, uh,” Satoru’s breathing slowed; he was focusing on regulating that instead and trying to automate his speech. It would be less hard then. “I’ve… been taught since I was little that the reason my technique is so strong is because it keeps people away from me. Like a shield, you know?”

Suguru hummed lightly in acknowledgment, but didn’t say anything else in response, and Satoru’s form choked. 

Of course Suguru knew exactly what Satoru wanted without having to ask him for it. 

“So… essentially, they thought personal relationships would only hold me back. Keep me weak.” Satoru tilted his head, in the direction of Suguru’s shoulder. It looked like a pillow to him, tempting to lay his head onto. “It’s why I didn’t have any friends or know anyone outside my clan until you and Shoko. I snuck out all the time, you know that, but even if I did manage to not be an ass enough to get along with some random kid, they’d have just torn me away from them by force.”

“I’m sure you were just fine as a kid, Toru,” 

“I was not, don’t mess with me,” Satoru couldn’t help but chuckle at that, and when he took a glance at Suguru’s face, it was obvious that was what Suguru wanted.

God, he pisses him off. 

“I’ve been— avoiding you… because of that.” Satoru tried looking down at all of the city lights to distract himself. They were beautiful, but not beautiful enough to cure whatever curse he was dealing with. “—It’s just, after I shared with you, I was… reminded of all of those annoying rules like an obnoxious bell went off. Let it get to my head too much.” 

“Shared?”

“When I saved you.” Satoru’s eyes shifted back to meet Suguru’s—he couldn’t help it. “I… shared my technique with you. You would’ve been hit if I didn’t.” 

Suguru looked at him for a moment, his head moving slightly closer. “You weren’t supposed to do that, were you?”

“Oh, fuck no, it was one of the highest offenses.” Satoru automatically resorted to his usual defense mechanism, and when it didn’t get through to Suguru at all, he just got even more nervous. “If anything, they were always like, ‘you have your technique for a reason,’ so purposefully sharing it with another that it wasn’t originally intended to go to—those ‘not like me’—it was being ungrateful; purposefully breaking the shield I was bestowed with for something as ‘meaningless’ as a relationship. I bet if I had done it while I was there, they wouldn’t have let me come here.” 

“Why didn’t you?” Suguru tilted his head. “You seemed like you would’ve done anything back then to piss off your folks.” 

“Because I didn’t actually have a reason to.” Satoru’s eyelids lowered. “I’ve never met anyone I’ve been willing to break that restriction for until you.” 

When Suguru’s lips parted, Satoru suddenly realized the implication of what he had just said, and quickly jumped to defend himself.

“—Of course, I didn’t actually know anyone before you, and they acted like it was akin to committing murder or something, so,” 

Satoru felt a face lay against his shoulder before he could even begin to process the hands on his back. 

“—Suguru?” He looked down at him, his hands still hovering inches away from touching Suguru’s spine. “It’s fine, it’s not that big of a deal—“

“It is to me,” was all that Suguru said before he went silent again. 

Satoru knew there would be no prying Suguru off of him—neither did he want to, honestly—so he quickly accepted the hug he had been brought into, his hands laying gently on Suguru’s back and his head leaning against Suguru’s own. He took a slow, slow inhale, and closed his eyes with a sigh. 

Seriously, why did he let that stupid bell get to him so much? 

Touch—with Suguru, especially—feels too wonderful to let that toll stop him from engaging in it.

“…Hey,”

“Mm…?” Suguru’s head tilted slightly against Satoru’s neck. 

“I’m glad that you introduced me to this.” Satoru’s voice was drowsy, but he wasn’t exactly tired—he was relaxed. “I think I would’ve had a pretty boring life if I never physically touched someone for eighty years.” 

Suguru chuckled lightly, and along with the smoothness of his tone, Satoru could feel the vibrations of his voice against his neck; he was suddenly aware of how warm his face felt. 

“You think you’ll live till eighty?” Suguru spoke gently, and Satoru could’ve sworn he felt his lips brush against his skin.

God, he wishes Suguru’d just kiss it. 

“Past eighty,”

Suguru hummed instead of laughing this time, and Satoru felt his hands slide down just a bit. 

“…Can I say something, too?” Suguru’s head tilted just a little. “Or do you want to stay like this?” 

“…Both,” 

“Okay.” 

Satoru felt Suguru’s lips curve into a smile. 

A gust of wind sent their hair flying backwards for a few seconds, and Satoru couldn’t help but relax his shoulders. It felt nice. 

This whole situation was nice. 

“I think that… it was wrong of your family to deny you an experience like that.” Suguru’s thumb began to slide back and forth, gently caressing Satoru’s lower back. “You would have made friends if they had let you, I promise.”

Satoru didn’t quite believe him. “…Eh,” 

“Come on, baby,” the sound made Satoru flinch. “No matter how spoiled or grumpy you were, I would’ve still approached you.” 

“That’s you, Suguru.”

“Mhm,” A hand shifted to a different location. “Yes it is.” 

Satoru sighed. “Fine.” 

Suguru scoffed in satisfaction before continuing, “I understand why they thought keeping you isolated from others was a good way to keep you strong, especially since it’s what your technique does, but… loneliness isn’t fun, Toru.” 

Satoru’s eyes opened slightly, staring off at the Tokyo Tower; they’d flown so far that it was decently visible now. “…Mhm.” 

“I wouldn’t want that for you.”

“I know.” 

“I don’t understand how your folks could,” 

“It’s what we’ve been taught for generations, Suguru.” Satoru slid his hand along Suguru’s back. “It’s nothing personal, it’s just… how things are.” 

“That’s not how it is here,” Satoru felt Suguru’s grip on his clothing tighten—just enough to feel friction from the fabrics. “It never has been.”

“I know,”

“You can feel however you want, and live however you want, okay?”

“Mhm.” 

“You don’t owe anyone anything.” Suguru’s lips were close enough to Satoru’s neck that they may as well be touching now. “You’re your own person, baby.” 

Suguru’s words—although Satoru still considered them slightly embarrassing—made him feel a kind of way he couldn’t exactly explain. One thing he was sure of, though, was that he likely would fall asleep if Suguru continued. 

Not because his words were boring—far from it—they were comforting. Really comforting. 

Don’t even get him started on the tone Suguru was using to say them. 

Satoru closed his eyes again with only a single noise escaping his mouth in acknowledgement, leaning his head even more onto Suguru’s own. He was trying to pass along a wordless message, and he was hoping that Suguru received it. 

Suguru’s able to read Satoru’s mind, even when he has nothing to go off of minus a slight change of his pupil size; of course he would understand something like that. 

When Satoru felt Suguru really—intently—press his lips into a kiss against the soft skin of his neck, he felt his entire body drop.

That one sign of affection was the flicking motion, and Satoru’s neck the switch. He was utterly comfortable now—he felt like he could spill the contents of his heart like he was performing a passionate speech.

One tiny peck made him melt. 

Suguru slowly sat up, and Satoru’s body instinctively curled into his, as if he didn’t want him to let go—stop touching him. Of course, Suguru noticed it. 

“…You know that you can be yourself around me, right?” Suguru’s hands were slowly rising up Satoru’s face. “You are wonderful, always, even with the cracks showing.” 

Satoru’s eyes automatically drifted down to Suguru’s lips. 

“…Mm.” He sat his own hand on top of Suguru’s wrist. 

“I mean it,”

He read him like a book again. “Wasn’t it… embarrassing?”

“No,” 

“Are you sure?” 

Suguru’s hands tilted against Satoru’s skin, cradling his face between his soft yet rough palms like he was a precious treasure. 

“Seriously, Satoru,” a beautiful, beautiful smile crept up onto Suguru’s face. Satoru wanted to curse everything—everything he knew. “Why can you see everything except how I see you?” 

Satoru was a fool. 

The door has been open since he met him. 

He stopped caring about keeping it closed a long time ago. He’d been lying to himself and forcing himself to do it anyway, even when he didn’t want to. 

Well, screw that; Suguru was right. 

Satoru Gojo is his own person, and he’s going to live for himself more. 

“I just…” 

Their faces were way too close for Satoru to not… feel an urge. 

He could tell Suguru felt it too. 

His eyes drifted down to Suguru’s lips once more, except this time, he let them stay there. They slowly got closer, approaching Satoru’s face hesitantly, until he couldn’t see them anymore; he could feel them. 

God, they felt wonderful. 

Satoru’s entire body sank down as he untensed himself, giving in to the relaxing pressure encasing his body like a shield. His hands slid down as his body did, one hand settling itself in the space between the joint on Suguru’s arm, and the other around the side of Suguru’s waist. 

Suguru tilted his head slightly, his large nose—Satoru’s always loved that part of his face—sliding against Satoru’s cheek briefly. Just that small amount of movement made Satoru let a small, quiet hum escape his mouth. He could feel the vibration of his voice against Suguru’s lips, and he hoped that Suguru could too. 

Satoru wanted more, oh, so much more—he always does—but eventually, Suguru pulled away. 

He looked at Satoru in silence, caressing his cheeks with his thumbs. 

Satoru’s eyes slowly fell closed, relishing in the soft atmosphere. The cool breeze, all of the lights surrounding them, Suguru’s gentle touch. He felt like he could fall asleep, right there and then. Lay onto Suguru’s chest, close his eyes, and feel as safe as he ever could. 

He felt Suguru’s fingers shift. 

“Baby?” 

Satoru opened his eyes just enough to see Suguru’s face. “Mmh?” 

Responding to such a word just as if it were his name looked like it made Suguru happy; his already small smile got just a little larger. 

“Should we… head back now?” Suguru’s hands slid lower, cupping Satoru’s face. “That twelve-story turned their top floor lights off.”

Satoru’s eyes fully opened, albeit slowly and drowsily. “They did…?” 

“Mhm,” 

They placed little time marks with observation from being up here so often; each building ‘going out’ for the night meant a certain time. That building meant three-thirty. 

Satoru sighed, his hands settling on Suguru’s arms, and let out a disappointed sigh. “Man…” 

Suguru let out a short amused laugh, and pressed a quick kiss against Satoru’s cheek, like a little pity gift. Satoru would’ve been a little pissed at that, but he didn’t really care right now; he felt too at ease to get angry at anything. 

Satoru felt Rainbow Dragon shift his usual gliding direction slightly, and they were headed back. 

It was rather… slowly, though. 

Satoru slid his hands down to the edge of Suguru’s waist, and absent-mindedly began to move his thumbs back and forth. Suguru was doing that to him earlier; it probably rubbed off on him or something. 

Even though they weren’t actively talking—and he knew sitting like this would get uncomfortable eventually—Satoru still thought it felt nice. It kind of reminded him of how they are when he sleeps in Suguru’s room. 

Maybe he’ll start doing that again. 

Suguru let out a small scoff, interrupting the silence—and Satoru’s train of thought. 

“Shoko is not going to be up this late.” 

Satoru was staring out at the lights again, but hearing Suguru’s voice made him turn back towards him. 

Satoru couldn’t help but chuckle, and Suguru’s little smug smile grew. 

Satoru felt like playing along. “Yeah, she will.”

“No,”

“She will,” 

“No she won’t, it’s three thirty.” Suguru laughed through his words, and he smiled so hard that Satoru could see his gums. “I’m not letting you wake her up for a little cut, Satoru.” 

“It’s your fault that you got that ‘little cut’, by the way.” 

Suguru knocked him in the gut—not too hard, but hard enough to get a nice grunt out of Satoru’s mouth. When Satoru looked up at him, he was met with an annoyingly-pretty smile. It pissed him off, but it also spread its happiness to Satoru almost immediately. 

Satoru ended up smiling too, and then Suguru’s got even wider. 

Honestly, it was embarrassing—and shamefully greedy, god, he’s never thinking of this again—but it gave him an idea. 

“Suguru,”

Suguru continued to chuckle lightly, “yeah?” 

Satoru paused, and he felt warmth shoot up his throat like a firework. 

He didn’t end up responding, and oh my god, Suguru moved his face closer. 

“What, baby?” 

Satoru’s gonna fucking choke. 

“Can—“ he didn’t even make it two words, he’s useless. “Uh,”

Suguru’s hands were back to cradling Satoru’s cheeks almost immediately with a large, obviously excited grin. “Yeah.” 

Suguru pulled Satoru’s face close, and Satoru hummed fondly into his mouth. 

♡

It’s insane how well Suguru understands Satoru. Seriously, he can’t even begin to fathom all of it. 

Evidence upon evidence upon evidence, he has received. It kind of makes Satoru feel like he’s lacking; how come he can’t also read his mind in turn? 

Honestly, that would help with a lot of the confusion he’s facing, too. 

Does Suguru really know everything? Is that why he always seems so carefree? So relaxed, so— sure of himself? 

It’s really fucking annoying. 

“—Toru,” the bastard’s voice—ugh, beautiful voice—shot through Satoru’s ears like a bullet. 

Satoru’s gonna kill himself, of course he walked to Suguru’s room. Of course, of course. 

“Hey,” Suguru sounded so happy it made Satoru want to crush the paper he was holding. “What’s up?” 

He forced himself to snap back into his usual, his shoulders stiffening. Of course, he couldn’t forget the endless internal begging for Suguru to not notice it. 

“Homework,” he spat, “the homework due tomorrow.”

“Mm,” 

Satoru raised an eyebrow. “What?” 

Ah, the fucker noticed anyway, didn’t he? Why do Satoru’s pleas never work? 

He felt like groaning out into the long, boringly-symmetrical hallways. 

“I already finished mine,” Suguru tilted his body slightly to the side against the door; his position was already enough. “You wanna copy?” 

Satoru never gets his homework done unless he has Suguru around him to pressure him into doing it, that’s true, but the homework wasn’t his actual reason for coming. 

He’s ninety-percent sure Suguru knows that, and is just messing with him. Of course, ‘cause he thinks Satoru embarrassing himself is funny. 

Asshole. 

He sighed. “No,” 

Suguru tilted his head. 

“That’s not— no, I don’t want to copy. This shit is stupid, I’m not getting it done.” He held the paper up in the air dramatically, showing off all of the blank answer sections. They hopefully would stay that way. 

“Yaga’s going to be pissed at you,”

“I don’t care, Suguru,” he crossed his arms again. “Stop nagging.” 

“Then why are you here?” 

He couldn’t help but let out a frustrated huff.

“…Are you really making me ask?”

Suguru tilted his head, feigning ignorance, and Satoru wanted to slam that door closed and walk away. 

“Can I…” he suddenly found the words embarrassing; likely because of the… thoughts… behind this visit. Impure, stupid, reckless, god, he must suck. “…You know,” 

Suguru’s lips parted, then his mouth quickly shifted into a wide, wide smile. 

“You know, I actually was just about to go and ask you,” he chuckled between his words, and Satoru could only think about how ethereal he sounded. “Come on,”

Blockhead Satoru, started by Suguru’s sudden mood switch—and absolute willingness to adhere to Satoru’s request—blinked a few times in confusion, which didn’t help his appearance at all. It got even worse when Suguru grabbed ahold of his wrist. 

“The—“

“I know, the homework, I lied, I didn’t get it done. It was just an attempt to get you to come in,” no hesitation behind Suguru’s words at all. “Now that you’re here, probably not going to.” 

It was stupid, but that similar statement that they both now shared made Satoru just a little bit happier. 

His smile grew, and Suguru noticed. 

Suguru moved across to the side, letting go of Satoru’s arm—much to his disappointment—and held his arm open towards his room. Inviting Satoru to walk ahead of him, he leaned against the back of his door. Satoru looked at him, raising an eyebrow, and Suguru simply scoffed. 

“You look stupid,” 

“God, shut up and walk in,” Suguru laughed. “I’m never being nice to you again.”

Satoru hummed as he walked forward, grabbing Suguru’s attention—and his wrist, as well. Suguru didn’t protest, letting Satoru tug him along. 

The door fell shut, and Satoru threw his homework onto Suguru’s desk. 

“Making a mess of my room already?” 

Satoru pulled him forward, scoffing, “it was one piece of paper, stop bitching.” 

“Uh-huh,” 

Suguru sat down on the bed, turning around to look at the other side. 

“Hey,”

“Mm,” Satoru was about to grab Suguru’s spare blanket, but he paused. “What?” 

“Where’d you put your pillow?”

“Uh,” he briefly looked around the room, and Suguru scoffed.

“You don’t remember, do you?”

Satoru sighed. “I’ll go get one,”

“No, no,” Suguru’s hand was suddenly pulling at Satoru’s own. “It’s fine, just sit.”

“But, there won’t be any—“

“Sit,”

Satoru did as he was told, with a dramatic sigh this time. 

There was silence for a moment, and then Suguru broke it. 

“You’ve gotten worse at hiding things, you know,”

Satoru’s eyebrows raised slightly, and he looked over in Suguru’s direction. 

“You’re just good at seeing through me.” His hands found themselves clasped together, fiddling with his own fingers. Was he seriously nervous right now? 

“Hey,” 

Satoru almost let out a small groan, the tone of voice giving away exactly what Suguru was going to say, but decided to use his words instead. “Don’t start,”

“No, I will start,” Suguru’s hand fell on top of Satoru’s. “I don’t like seeing you act like you’re…”

Satoru exhaled. “A burden?”

“Yes,” 

Suguru’s hand slid up to cradle Satoru’s face, and tilted it back towards his own when it began to turn away. 

“You already said this last Friday,” 

“And you haven’t done anything with it.” Suguru’s thumb slid across Satoru’s skin once—only once. “Even around me, you still act the same.” 

“It hasn’t even been that long, Suguru.”

“It’s been a week, Toru.” 

Satoru didn’t respond; a simple exhale escaped his nose, and that was it. 

“Baby,” 

God, there it was again. 

Satoru’s shoulders dropped, and he couldn’t tell if it was because of that word, or how he was currently feeling. 

“Are you okay?” 

He let out a small, quiet noise of frustration. “I’m fine, just fine, I swear. Been… feeling better, I guess.” 

“You’re being honest to me,” Suguru’s voice was so, so gentle. “Right?” 

Satoru felt like telling him the truth was a requirement now, not an option. “..Yeah.” 

Suguru went silent again, but only for a few seconds. When his mouth opened again, he was closer. 

“Do you remember when you… cried after waking up from a dream? The last time you slept here?” 

Satoru didn’t want to remember, but, “yeah, I do.” 

“What was that about?”

His body ended up turning to face Suguru’s slightly—just a little, but it was still very noticeable. “Nothing, really, just the whole… not-wanting-to-look-weak-in-front-of-you thing. And I know what you’re going to say next to that, I remember what you told me,”

“Then why haven’t I seen that?”

Satoru’s hand fell on top of Suguru’s. “It’s kind of… unrealistic for me to just— jump straight into that.”

“I know, I don’t expect a complete reformation from you, not whatsoever, but from what I’ve seen, you haven’t given it any thought at all,” 

“Suguru, I don’t— want to get angry at you, just,” his fingers clasped around Suguru’s own. “Please, drop it.”

“Baby,” the other hand was on Satoru’s face now, too. “I know you don’t believe me.” 

Satoru looked down at the floor. 

“Hey,” Suguru brought him right back up. “Look at me.” 

“…Mmh.” 

“I know,” another gentle thumb slide. “But I promise, I’m not lying to you.” 

Satoru sighed. 

“I never will,” 

“…I know.” 

“Satoru, what I want to hear is that you believe me, not that you know.” 

Suguru’s voice was still so lovely, Satoru couldn’t come up with any good response. 

“…I believe you.”

“You’re telling me the truth?” Suguru tilted his head. “You’re not lying to me?” 

“Mhm,” 

Suguru stared at him for a moment. “…I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t give me that,” Satoru let his forehead fall against Suguru’s own. “You’re fine.” 

Suguru sighed, closing his eyes. 

Satoru could feel his body relax, like an echo through his skin.

“Mm,” 

Damn it, Satoru loves when he does that. 

A simple hum makes Satoru’s chest crunch? A hum? He’s utterly pathetic. 

It just sounds so… lovely, though. Suguru does. 

He was going to act like he never thought that, but honestly, if Suguru was going to notice it eventually anyway, why bother? 

“…You know, Suguru,”

His eyes opened, and he blinked once more than usual. “Mhm?” 

“I love when you talk like that.” 

Suguru’s lips parted. 

“When you just— talk,” Satoru kept going anyway, despite his uncertainty. “In general.”

“You… like the sound of my voice?” 

Satoru paused for a minute, before replying gently, “Yeah.” 

A smile crawled its way onto Suguru’s face, and seeing it made a throbbing sensation sound through Satoru’s chest like a drum. 

When Suguru sat back up straight, Satoru came with him.

Suguru inched just a little closer. “I like yours, too.”

His voice was softer—gentler. That was so on purpose, wasn’t it?

“…Seriously?” Satoru tilted his head. “You like the sound of— this?”

“Satoru,” Suguru chuckled lightly as he spoke. “What did we just talk about?”

Satoru paused, slowly turning his head away. “…Mmh.” 

“Hey,” Suguru placed his hand on the opposite side of Satoru’s face and turned it back towards himself. “No, you’re not doing that.” 

“Gah, what if I just— want to look at the other side of your room?” Satoru grabbed his hand, forcefully. “You gonna keep making me look at you the entire time I’m in here?”

“I’d love that, but no,” 

Satoru’s voice hitched—like he choked on something in his throat—and Suguru scoffed.

“—You’re looking away from me because you're embarrassed, not because you have a sudden fascination with the posters on my wall.” 

Satoru let out a mixture of a sigh and a groan, and Suguru’s smile widened. 

“Let go already,” 

“Alright, alright,” He held both of his hands in the air, as if Satoru was a police officer trying to arrest him. “Whatever you say.” 

Satoru didn’t really have anywhere else to look—besides Suguru—but those posters. They look decent enough. 

“Where’d you get that,” 

Suguru raised an eyebrow. “Mm?”

Satoru pointed ahead of him, “that one. Where’d you get it?”

“I don’t remember, honestly,” Suguru accompanied his words with a dramatic exhale, flopping down onto the bed. “Who cares,” 

“I do,” 

“No you don’t, don’t lie to me.” 

“Alright, now who has to start believing who now?”

Suguru scoffed, “fine.” 

Suguru’s eyes fell onto the poster Satoru had taken interest in, his face flat—he was thinking, probably. 

His hair ended up falling against his face in a beautiful way; his hair was down, his bangs sprawled across his features. A thick strand from the left across his nose laying onto the right, and the back of his hair laid across his blanket so neatly that Satoru could make out a few shapes. 

Does Suguru even try to appear as pretty as he does? Is there any conscious effort, or does it just happen naturally? 

Suguru’s lips parted after a while, and it only reminded Satoru of their beauty, too. 

“I think,” 

Satoru slowly laid down as Suguru spoke, his gentle voice making him feel weak.

“—It’s from a fair I went to when I was younger.” 

Satoru’s hand drifted to touch Suguru’s hair, twirling it between his fingers. “When?”

“When I was twelve, maybe,” Suguru’s eyes slowly moved to meet Satoru’s own. “Junior High.” 

“It looks cool,” 

“Yeah, that’s why I got it,” he chuckled lightly—gently. “I think I begged my mother for it, actually.” 

“Really?” Satoru couldn’t help but smile. “One to ten, how serious was it?”

“What’s the scale?” 

“One being just a ‘please’, ten being on your knees,” 

“Mmh,” Suguru’s head turned to face the ceiling, and Satoru had to move his hand slightly to keep the thick strands of hair around his fingers. “Seven.” 

“Wow,” Satoru was laughing—genuinely laughing. “That’s a funny image in my head, now.” 

“Don’t do anything nefarious with that.” 

“No promises,” 

Suguru chuckled lightly for a moment—they sounded more like hums—then went silent. The next time Satoru moved his eyes from Suguru’s hair to his face, his eyebrows raised; Suguru was looking at him too.

There was something about it, though. 

God, his eyes have never looked more beautiful. 

Satoru felt multiple, multiple urges rise up through his throat; they originated from his chest—his heart? 

…Suguru said Satoru couldn’t ‘see’ himself how Suguru did. 

What did that mean? 

“…Suguru?” 

He was met with a smile—a gorgeous, gorgeous, beautiful smile—and fuck, Satoru might shatter like a pretty wine glass. 

“Mhm?”

Suguru was doing that thing with his voice again, and Satoru knew that it was on purpose now. He was doing it because he knew Satoru liked it—that was more than he could handle. 

“How do you… see me?” 

“…Really?” Suguru’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You… want to know?” 

Satoru nodded, and Suguru’s face burst into color. 

He… liked that—he liked it a lot. 

He liked making Suguru look like that? 

Suguru’s face let Satoru know that he noticed how red he looked, and he turned his head slightly; and yet, his gaze stayed glued to Satoru’s like two magnets. His hand covered his mouth slightly, too—like he was trying to hide the words he was about to speak. “It… kind of is embarrassing, like— actually, this time.” 

Satoru parted his lips, “so?” 

“It’s— kind of, um,” 

Satoru couldn’t help but let his face fall flat; he’s never seen Suguru act this way before. Usually Satoru is the one being nervous. 

“It’s like, uh,” he continued to stutter, pausing for a second and suddenly adding, “—weird.”

“You seemed entirely ready to spill it when you first told me about it last week,”

“That was then, now we’re—“ Suguru gestured to the space around them, “in a crappy dorm room.”

“What is it about this that’s making you so hesitant, Suguru?” Satoru fully turned his body, his chest facing in Suguru’s direction now. “Do you not want to tell me?” 

Suguru’s eyebrows flew to the top of his forehead, and his body turned the same way too, like he was copying Satoru’s actions. He hoped it wasn’t intentional—it didn’t look like it was. “—No, no, I… I do want to tell you.” 

“Then why aren’t you?” 

“I’m afraid you’ll—“ Suguru stuttered, his eyes drifting away and a frustrated hum escaping his mouth, “—mmh.” 

“Hey,” Satoru’s hand moved from cradling Suguru’s hair to his face. “You’re being a huge hypocrite right now, you know?” 

A small grin rose against Suguru’s face, and he scoffed. “I am not—“

“Yes you are,” Satoru smiled as well; he felt oddly proud at getting Suguru to, and he couldn’t hide it—he didn’t want to, really. 

Suguru stared at him in silence for a moment, then like flicking a switch, he let out a small groan. 

“Just say it, Suguru,” Satoru felt like pinching his nose, but he refrained. “Don’t make me just repeat everything you said to me like I’m reading a script. That would be embarrassing.” 

Suguru thought about it—Satoru could tell, he saw it on his face—and eventually, he huffed through his nose. 

The covers crinkled and rustled as Suguru sat up slightly, pulling his entire body onto the bed. Satoru didn’t know what he was doing, but he followed suit—sort of. Apparently, he was doing it wrong; sitting up while Suguru was laying down clearly wasn’t what Suguru was going for. 

“God, come here,” he sounded agitated, but still, gentle.

As long as even a pinch of gentleness remained, every command Suguru gave to Satoru was like Cursed Speech—he obeyed, without a single thought crossing his mind telling him not to. 

After all, why would Suguru tell him to do something that didn’t have Satoru’s best interests at heart, at the very least? 

Satoru did as he was told, slowly letting his body fall back down onto the bed, except in the correct position this time. When he got close enough, although hesitantly, Suguru’s hands settled themselves around his waist, guiding him softly. They felt like they belonged there. 

“Here,” he rotated his torso, and Satoru let him. 

Honestly, he’d let Suguru do anything right now.

When Suguru was satisfied with where Satoru was laying—his head on the pillow, and his body laid out onto the covers—he paused above him, and simply looked. 

Seeing Suguru above him like this made Satoru’s lips part, and his face grow warmer. He found himself hoping that Suguru would stay this way, and whether it was Satoru’s face or the Universe’s sudden willingness to finally give him what he wanted, Suguru did stay; he even adjusted his position to where he was comfortable as well. 

Satoru could tell from Suguru's expression that he was looking for a sign that told him that Satoru wasn’t okay with this, and knowing Suguru, he’d get up the second he saw something even slightly hinting at such. Satoru didn’t want that. 

“…This is fine,” he spoke through shaky lips, his eyelids lowering. “It’s okay.” 

“…Are you sure?” 

Satoru moved his hands up, closer to Suguru’s face, and settled his thumbs on the edges of his jawline. “Yeah.” 

Suguru’s eyes shifted slightly, likely scanning Satoru’s expression, then finally, gave in with a sigh. 

“…I, uh…” 

Satoru slid his thumb along the bottom of Suguru’s chin, trying his best to encourage him—tell him it was okay—and like igniting a fire, Suguru took a deep, deep inhale. 

“You’re…” Suguru looked like he was trying his best to keep it together, but eventually, one of his hands flew to cover his face with a massive sigh. “…You’re perfect.”

Satoru blinked once, twice, thrice—‘perfect’?

“Fuck, I just— I don’t know how to explain it without seeming like an obsessed weirdo,” Suguru’s fingers dug into his hair, his hand sliding up to the side of his head. “But, you’re… it’s annoying to me how you act like you suck and all that when you don’t, you don’t suck at all and I’ve never thought that about you, and—“ 

“Hey, hey,” Satoru’s fingers rose to the sides of Suguru’s face, sliding just once under his eyes—his eyelashes were small, barely visible, and yet, Satoru still felt them brush against his nails. “You’re rambling, Suguru.” 

Suguru stared at him for a moment, then let go of his hair to grab one of Satoru’s hands with a sigh. 

Suguru’s lips were parted, and his bangs were even more uneven now; he looked beautiful. 

Suguru hummed lightly, and Satoru watched his face sink into Satoru’s palm as he spoke, “sorry.”

“Stop apologizing, and just,” Satoru moved his hands down Suguru’s back slowly, lightly pushing him down. “Lay down.” 

Suguru’s eyes darted from the hands on his back, to the face in front of him, and he let out a small huff; yet still, he complied anyway, letting himself fall against Satoru’s chest. It reminded Satoru of how he treats Suguru’s own commands, and it made him happy. 

The feeling of Suguru laying down on him—his chest against his own—made him even happier. 

“Here,” Satoru couldn’t help but bring one of his hands up to push a strand of Suguru’s hair behind his ear—only one. “Is… this okay?” 

“…Yeah,” Suguru’s hands took a small—yet lovely—moment to settle themselves wherever he wished on Satoru’s body, and Satoru could feel himself getting drowsy already. “It’s wonderful.”

Satoru watched in silence as Suguru sighed against his chest, resting his head where his ear laid against Satoru’s heart; which Satoru knew was beating quicker than it should. Still, the small smile on Suguru’s face let him know that Suguru liked it, at the very least—although it was still embarrassing. 

“…Sorry.” Suguru spoke against Satoru’s shirt. “I didn’t mean to stop talking,” 

“Hey,”

Suguru chuckled, and Satoru felt the vibrations. “I know, I know,” 

Satoru let his hands settle against Suguru’s lower back. “…I’m still listening.” 

“…Mm.” 

Satoru could only see the top of Suguru’s head—as well as a small bit of his face—and yet, he still thought he was beautiful. 

“…I do really see you as that, you know,” Suguru began, his lips moving slowly. “Perfect.” 

Suguru’s voice was far, far gentler than it was before. Was laying down all it took? 

…Satoru’s a hypocrite, he would be acting the same way if he was in Suguru’s situation. 

“…Yeah?” Satoru tried his best to make his reply as unemotional as possible, but in actuality, he was about to explode. 

Hearing Suguru—Suguru—refer to him as ‘perfect’ was just… 

“Mhm,” 

Fuck, and he’s doing that thing, too. 

“…You constantly talk about your flaws, what you’re not supposed to do, what you aren’t allowed to do, just… negative things, and I… never really saw those in you.” Suguru’s thumbs began to do that thing they always do; slowly move back and forth against Satoru’s sides. “You… aren’t like that at all, baby.” 

“…What do you mean?”

He heard Suguru scoff lightly. “You act like you have all of these negative things you need to hide, when you don’t have any at all.”

“…Mmh,”

“Well, you do—everyone does, including myself—but not nearly as many as you say,” Suguru chuckled lightly, and Satoru felt him nuzzle his head into the fabric of Satoru’s shirt. “You are… so, so wonderful, Toru, and I… want you to realize— see that.” 

Satoru hummed once more, except he couldn’t hide the uncertainty in it this time. Suguru also had his heartbeat to go off of now, and he knew damn well that would be the first thing to betray him. 

“Hey,” Suguru looked up at him, his face soft and a beautiful red, and spoke so, so softly that Satoru felt like he could pass out. “Hey…”

Satoru could tell that Suguru was trying to sound reassuring, and it made him clench his fingers closed with a frustrated noise escaping his mouth.

“Hey, baby,” Suguru’s hands moved from their previous spot on Satoru’s sides to his face, and even the way he held them against his skin was soft. Everything, everything Suguru did—soft. 

Fuck, he doesn’t deserve any of it. 

“I know,” Suguru hummed, “I want you to believe me again, okay?” 

His words sounded so gentle, so soothing. Satoru couldn’t tell whether he was about to fall asleep or cry. 

He took a deep, deep inhale. “…I just,” 

“I’m not lying to you.” Suguru’s thumbs slid across the skin under Satoru’s eyes. “You’re wonderful, and so, so beautiful,”

Satoru couldn’t help but tense his shoulders. 

“—and I mean it.” 

“…Do you—“

“Yes, baby,” Suguru read his goddamn mind before he could even finish what he was saying. “I do.” 

It took everything Satoru had to not let that pathetic whimper in the back of his throat crawl out of his mouth like a bug. 

Still, some people think bugs are beautiful, don’t they? 

Suguru’s favorite animal is a butterfly. 

Satoru’s face was blank, devoid of much expression besides the glaring warmth burning against his cheeks like a fire and his wide, wide eyes. He loved this, he loved this so much, but had no idea how to react to it anymore, at least not in a way that would make himself cry; this stimulus was nothing like cursed energy, so how could he? He hoped Suguru could tell that he loved it, even through his dumb, aghast look.

Then again, Satoru continuously seems to underestimate how well Suguru knows him.

He felt so, so many things at once, and he hadn’t the faintest clue what to do with them. 

“Why are you…” Satoru felt like biting down on his lips, crushing the skin until they bled, just to push all of these new overwhelming and confusing stimuli and desires right back down his throat. “...talking to me like that?”

“I want to.” Suguru replied simply, and Satoru wasn’t given any room to think otherwise. Perhaps that’s what Suguru intended. “And now, I know that you like it.”

There was a bit of silence between them, and Suguru decided to push a strand of Satoru’s hair behind his ear with one of his fingers. 

Shit, why does even something as simple as that feel so– soft?

“Why are you so soft to me?”

His thumbs slide down Satoru’s cheeks–of fucking course–softly. “How could I not be?” 

Satoru’s face felt like it was on fire.

“You’re lovely, Satoru,” Suguru slurred the words–Satoru’s name, especially–like he was reading aloud a love poem. “I’ve never thought of you as anything less.” 

Satoru’s lips parted, and he felt his mind go blank. 

God, he hates what Suguru can do to him. 

He hates how Suguru doesn't even bother repeating Satoru’s thoughts whenever he responds to them. It’s like he knows he’s right—no doubt in his mind that he was fully aware of what was going on in Satoru’s. 

Suguru does know. Satoru can’t lie to himself and pretend Suguru doesn’t. 

Satoru’s fingers naturally find their way to comb through Suguru’s bangs. 

“…Your hair’s getting in my face.”

“Ah, really?” Suguru’s laugh shines between his words like the moon poking out from between the clouds. “Sorry,”

Actually, no—Suguru being able to read Satoru’s thoughts like a book effortlessly isn’t a problem at all. In fact, Satoru loves it. 

He loves letting Suguru know him. Know all of him. 

He wants him to. 

Fuck, he really wants him to. 

“How can you… say those kinds of things and be completely fine?”

Suguru looked at him in silence for a moment, then tilted his head. “‘Fine’?” 

“Mmh,” 

“Give me your hand, baby,” 

Satoru did as he was asked, lifting his right hand off of Suguru’s back and placing it into Suguru’s open palm. His eyebrows raised when it was brought against Suguru’s chest, and he felt the thudding of a heartbeat just as quick and nervous as his was. 

“I’m not ‘fine’ at all, Satoru,” Suguru chuckled between his words, “see?” 

Satoru’s lips parted, and he let the feeling of Suguru’s heartbeat flow through his veins like water. 

It felt… calming, in a way. 

“I was nervous, too,” the single, tiny drop of sweat sliding down Suguru’s cheek proves his statement before he even finishes it. “I’m nervous all the time.” 

Satoru looked up at him, and—ignoring how beautiful he looked—couldn’t help but scoff. “You don’t act like it,” 

“It’s because— I want to impress you.” Suguru’s voice was lower, like he was embarrassed to speak. “—Immature, saying it makes me feel like I’m twelve, but— we’re being honest right now, so, there you go.” 

Satoru lifted his face up and inched it closer to Suguru’s—of his own will this time—and Suguru flinched slightly. 

He wasn’t kidding, was he?

Well, that makes Satoru feel a little better. 

“…You know,” the truth—not the usual comeback he had thought up—came out of his mouth without him intending it to. “I like you like this more.”

“…You like me when I’m a stuttering mess?” Suguru tilted his head in disbelief. “You’ve seen it before, it’s quite unflattering.” 

“I do,” Satoru’s lips parted, his gaze relaxing the longer he was given the grace of seeing Suguru with no filter. “Yeah.” 

Is this why Suguru likes it when Satoru acts like himself so much? Doesn’t hide his feelings—feels them to the full extent he’s capable of? 

Ah, he’s starting to understand him more now. 

“Also, stop talking like an old man, you’re ruining it.” 

Suguru scoffed, the smile Satoru loved right back onto his face. “Ruining what?” 

“This.”

“I do not talk like an old man,”

“Yeah you do, who says unflattering?” 

“Me,” Suguru’s scoff turned into giggles. “It’s not old, what the hell?” 

Suguru’s laughter made Satoru begin his own, his smile so wide Suguru could definitely see his gums. 

The longer they both looked at each other—the longer Satoru looked at Suguru—the more… odd he felt. 

Does Suguru… really see Satoru as perfect? Wonderful? Lovely? 

Satoru can’t pinpoint a good enough word to describe how he sees Suguru just out of the blue, but he does know a couple, more regular ones. 

“I don’t have anything as— fancy as you, but—“ Satoru spoke through soft laughs, his hands settling themselves on Suguru’s back once more. “You… you make me feel safe,” 

Suguru’s smile lessened slightly, his lips parting. 

“It’s just that, I’ve been a bounty all my life, I’ve always had to keep my guard up, but— but I don’t have to do that sort of thing with you.” Satoru’s own smile still stayed on his face, even as he spoke. “It feels… nice to not have to watch my back all the time.” 

Suguru’s hands found their way to cradling Satoru’s face again, and he felt his shoulders drop. “And yet you tell me to relax,”

“I do relax,” Satoru scoffed. “Just… not that often, you know?” 

Suguru’s thumbs slid across Satoru’s skin. 

“There could always be someone waiting for an opening, so it’s kind of hard for me to,” Satoru’s eyebrows untensed. “But honestly, even if there is, you’re strong enough to make sure they don’t get to me.” 

“So I’m your knight?”

“Yeah,” Satoru couldn’t help but chuckle, “I guess you are.” 

Suguru pressed his lips against Satoru’s forehead, moving his bangs out of the way with one of his hands, and Satoru felt warmth shoot up his throat like a bullet. 

“I wouldn’t mind that kind of profession,” 

For once, Satoru felt like he knew what was coming next. “Because you’d get to be around me?” 

The way Suguru chuckled almost immediately let Satoru know that he was right. 

He probably would keep getting that reaction if he continued, and his wishing for it made him decide that he would. 

Suguru opened his mouth just enough to speak. “Yeah,” 

When Satoru felt Suguru’s lips press onto his own now, he let his head sink backwards into the pillow with a fond, fond sigh. 

They kissed once, twice—and after a beautiful hum from Suguru this time—thrice. The entire time—for all three—Satoru felt like he was being cradled by the softest blanket he’s ever felt in his life. 

When they both pulled away, Satoru could tell that if he closed his eyes again, he’d likely fall asleep within seconds. 

Apparently, Suguru could tell. 

“You look tired, Toru,” he mumbled in such a low and gentle and beautiful voice that just made Satoru’s predicament even worse.

The only thing Satoru could get out was a half-assed hum of acknowledgement, and Suguru scoffed. 

“Come on,” Suguru’s hands shifted to support Satoru’s sides. “Scooch over a bit.” 

Satoru attempted moving, but he could tell that it was mostly Suguru that was doing it for him. He settled down on his side, his face halfway buried into the pillow—Suguru liked the outrageously absorbent ones—and Suguru laid down next to him. 

“I know we… don’t usually do this, but,” he spoke quietly, not startling Satoru in the slightest; it’s like he was being lulled to sleep. “Can I hold you?”

Satoru took the liberty of pushing himself against Suguru’s chest; the clearest ‘yes’ he currently had the energy to give. 

Suguru’s hands wrapped around his body in such a comforting way, and Satoru couldn’t help but melt into him completely. 

Suguru mumbled a few gentle words into Satoru’s hair, and everything was so, so soothing, so… perfect. 

A kiss fell onto Satoru’s forehead, and he felt himself fade into sleep. 

♡

Satoru woke up again. 

Not from a dream this time, but from… something else. He didn’t really know what. 

But, he was awake—very awake. He stared at the ceiling for what felt like hours, and he never once felt the urge to close his eyes for anything other than to blink. 

What the hell is this? 

“…Mmh,” 

Suguru’s voice made him turn his head almost instantly, and he only then realized that they… weren’t touching anymore. At some point, Satoru had pushed himself out of Suguru’s hold. 

Now, why the fuck did he do that? 

He didn’t want to wake Suguru up, though. 

He thought, and he thought, and he thought—probably for at least twenty minutes—on how to get back to how they were before without doing so. 

Normally, he’d suck it up and do it anyway, but Suguru looked too beautiful and too peaceful—he just couldn’t bring himself to. 

Through all of the staring he was doing at Suguru’s asleep face—albeit unintentionally—he noticed a few things; Suguru’s eyebrows were furrowing slightly, and his lips twitched every once in a while. 

They’ve slept in the same bed often—very often—but Satoru’s never seen him do that; usually, it’s flat, with the occasional casual movement of his lips when he hummed in his sleep. This movement wasn’t normal. 

He didn’t mean to, but one of his hands was already moving to slowly slide down the side of Suguru’s face. He brushed past a few soft strands of black hair, and decided to finalize whatever he was doing with brushing them past Suguru’s ear. When Suguru’s eyes weren’t being blocked by Satoru’s hand, he noticed that his lips had parted. 

Satoru couldn’t tell if it was progress or not, but it was change, at least. 

He continued to stare at him, since he had nothing better to do—he wasn’t going to be falling asleep anytime soon, and the roof gets boring quickly; Suguru was far prettier of a view. 

The curtains on the window barely blocked out the moonlight shining through the glass. 

After a while, Satoru had settled his hand on top of Suguru’s own, encasing his fingers around it; it wasn’t reciprocated, but it was the only touch Satoru could confidently initiate without waking Suguru up. However, after he closed his eyes—just because he could, not because he was tired—he quickly realized that all of his efforts were for naught. 

A gasp jolted his eyelids right back open, especially when the hand he was holding onto was ripped away from him. 

“Suguru—“

Heavy, heavy breathing filled Satoru’s ears, and he sat up to look at the expression on Suguru’s face. His eyes were wide, his pupils small; was he scared? 

“Suguru,” Satoru’s hands grasped onto the ones Suguru held desperately against his chest. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” 

Suguru’s pupils slowly shifted to look at him, and he inhaled deeply before speaking. “I don’t— I don’t know, I just—“ 

Satoru moved himself closer to him before Suguru could finish speaking, their faces inches away. 

He clasped his fingers around Suguru’s hands, pulling them off of his chest. “Hey, look at me.”

Suguru only inhaled deeply once more, and Satoru moved his face closer.

“Look at me.” 

When Suguru did as Satoru said, he slowly separated Suguru’s hands. 

“Slow breaths,” he let his voice drop, “Slow,” 

Suguru’s breathing was still shaky, but Satoru could tell a difference—he was trying. 

“Slow…” Satoru breathed along with him, caressing his hands with his thumbs and gently lowering them down to rest on top of the blanket. “There you go…” 

Suguru looked at him in a specific way that made Satoru’s heart crunch, then closed his eyes and lowered his head. Although they were weak, he let his fingers hold onto Satoru’s own. 

They both breathed, breathed, and Satoru was suddenly reminded of their mission a few weeks ago—perhaps that is where he got these words and gestures from.

He let go of Suguru’s hands slowly, then raised his own up to Suguru’s head and pulled him to rest on Satoru’s shoulder. The next breath from Suguru afterwards sounded easier, and Satoru knew that he had made the right choice. 

He turned his own head slightly, enough where his mouth was next to Suguru’s ear, and murmured gently, “you’re doing good.” 

It felt out of character for Satoru to be saying these things—slightly awkward, too—but he didn’t really care about that, and he knew damn well Suguru didn’t either. The only thing the both of them were focused on right now was getting Suguru’s breathing back to normal. 

Suguru was sleeping mostly fine, and then scared the shit out of Satoru all of a sudden with that freak-out. What happened? 

The next breath Suguru let out after Satoru’s words sounded different. It was still shaky, like the rest, but at the same time, it sounded fond—relieved. 

Because Suguru didn’t spend nearly as much time chattering as Satoru had done, he was improving much quicker than he had been. Still, he didn’t move for a while, and Satoru didn’t make him; he let him stay. 

Suguru sighed—still slightly shake-ish—and Satoru heard the blanket rustle. “…Sorry, Satoru.” 

“Hey,” Satoru brushed some of his hair behind his shoulders. “You’re fine.” 

Suguru slowly sat up with an exhale that sounded slightly disappointed, and Satoru moved his hands to cradle Suguru’s face. 

“Do you know what that was?”

Suguru tilted his head slightly. “…Not really. Just… a bad dream, I guess.”

“Remember what it was about?”

“No.”

“Okay,” Satoru sighed. “You’re feeling better, right?”

“Mhm.” Suguru’s hands slowly slid up Satoru’s arms, settling on top of Satoru’s own. His fingers settled themselves between Satoru’s, closing around his palms. “Thank you.”

“I owed you, remember?” 

Suguru chuckled lightly, “no, you didn’t, but it doesn’t really matter.” 

Satoru’s facial expression happened to soften right as Suguru opened his eyes. 

“…You scared the crap outta me, you know? Gasping so abruptly like that,” 

Suguru smiled slightly. “Sorry, Toru.”

God, Satoru couldn’t decide between kissing him and punching him. 

“Are you sure you don’t remember? That looked serious, Suguru.” 

“I am sure, yeah. I don’t remember any details, I just remember being… panicked.” Suguru’s thumbs slid across Satoru’s knuckles. “That’s probably why I woke up like that.”

Satoru couldn’t help but scoff when he was reminded of something. “Why do we keep having this kinda shit happen recently?”

Suguru’s eyebrows raised, then when he understood, he began to laugh lightly again. “I have no idea,”

“Guess it was your turn, huh?” He let his hands fall down onto the blanket, and Suguru’s followed. “They’re finally giving me a break.”

“How absurd,” 

“Exactly,” 

Suguru chuckled lightly at first, and then, his attitude suddenly switched, his next exhale trembling. 

Satoru’s face shifted, and so did his fingers against Suguru’s skin. “Hey,” 

“—I’m alright, I’m alright.” Suguru knew what he was going to say, like always. “It’s okay.”

Satoru sighed, and Suguru slightly lowered his head; he couldn’t tell if it was out of embarrassment, shame, or something else. 

“I know that tone, Toru, I’m alright,” 

“You’re not,” 

“Satoru—“ 

“Suguru.” Satoru pulled his face closer, and it rose up to meet his own. He said his name sternly, and then it suddenly dropped to something even Satoru found out of character. “You’re not.”

Suguru’s expression faltered, and he stared at him in silence for what felt like hours. When he finally sighed, letting his head fall back down, Satoru felt himself lightly do so as well. 

“What’s wrong?”

“…I don’t know,” Suguru scoffed—at himself. “I… really don’t know, I just… mmh.” 

“Hey, look up at me.”

“…Guh, my head’s tired,” he huffed. 

“Up,” 

Suguru exhaled, then did as he was told. 

“Why are you acting this way?” Satoru pushed some of Suguru’s bangs behind his ear, slowly and carefully. “I’m supposed to be the stubborn one,”

Suguru laughed, just once. “You’re self aware now?” 

“Ignoring that,” 

He laughed a few more times. 

“Slow breaths,” Satoru’s hand was back to cradling Suguru’s face. “Keep trying that, okay?” 

“…Mhm,” 

They fell silent, Suguru’s breathing being all that Satoru could hear. He truly didn’t know what was wrong—Suguru was far better at discerning that than Satoru was—so he took this time to think. 

How could he make Suguru feel better—really feel better? He didn’t even know what was wrong to begin with, Suguru just woke up like this out of nowhere. 

It frustrated him, but it also worried him—how was he supposed to make sure Suguru was okay this time? 

Before, he shared his technique, because that was the obvious choice to stop a giant deadly claw from stabbing Suguru in the gut, but there’s no claw or something here, no cursed energy at all. It’s just… something else. 

Satoru isn’t good at ‘something else’. 

…Hold on. 

Sharing his technique did solve that, didn’t it?

Suguru’s eyes suddenly opened after being closed for a while, and immediately met Satoru’s. 

The longer the silence rang out through his ears like a bell, the more he felt like he was choking. 

“…Did you just…?” 

Satoru coughed, “—yeah.” 

Suguru let out a tiny scoff, then a few giggles, then burst into full-on laughter; Satoru, in turn, felt his shoulders flinch so hard he nearly sprung himself off of the bed like a goddamn frog. 

“I do— I do feel safer,” Suguru spoke through chuckles, and Satoru could see a tiny tear on the edge of his right eye. “So—hehe—I guess you helped a little, baby,” 

“Don’t laugh at me,” 

The fucker continued to do so anyway. 

“Suguru.”

Satoru’s hands moved down to Suguru’s waist, and he felt Suguru’s own lay themselves on Satoru’s shoulders. 

When Suguru resisted Satoru’s pull, his head looking upwards and his laugh changing slightly as a result, Satoru felt himself scoff. 

“Stop laughing,” was what he said, but he counteracted it almost immediately with laughter of his own. “Seriously,” 

Suguru calmed down a little, but still, continued to chuckle. 

It was embarrassing, yes, but Satoru still couldn’t help but love the way his laughter sounded. 

Satoru didn’t really mean to, but it was too late to pull himself away; especially since Suguru gave off no intentions to, either. 

Suguru’s hands landed around Satoru's face, and he hummed into Satoru’s mouth—playfully, but at the same time, fondly—and Satoru felt his shoulders drop. 

Between kisses—each one—he felt Suguru’s lips curl into a smile against his own, and the vibrations of soft, soft chuckles. 

These were far more lovely. 

After only three, Satoru—unfortunately—pulled away. When he met Suguru’s eyes, more chuckling from him arose.

“What?”

Nothing but gentle laughter.

Satoru scoffed, “What?”

“I’m happy,” Suguru’s hands slid down just a little. “You kissed me— baby, you’ve never done that before.” 

Satoru’s lips parted upon hearing Suguru’s words; he was right. Why hadn’t Satoru done that before? 

…Whatever, he’ll think about that later. 

“Inhale for me,” 

Suguru’s expression relaxed, a gentle—and amused—smile staying on his face. “Are you my doctor now?” 

Satoru laughed—just a little. “Just do it, Suguru.” 

When Satoru raised his hands up to cradle Suguru’s face, Suguru’s own hands slid down Satoru’s side, landing softly on his waist. He let his head sink against Satoru’s touch, closed his eyes, and did as he was asked. 

His next few breaths were normal—far less shaky—and Satoru did his own out of relief. 

“…You know,” Suguru slowly opened his eyes and looked at Satoru—looked—in such a specific way that he felt warmth shoot through his body like a rocket. “Why is Infinity on right now? I don’t think it can protect me from feeling uneasy,” 

“Well, it… helped you last time.” Satoru suddenly felt himself getting embarrassed again. “And you said it makes you feel safe.” 

Suguru looked like he was going to say something, but then his face shifted slightly, as if he had given up on that and switched to something else. “It does.” 

Satoru cleared his throat. “Just… pretend that it does help or something—at least a little.” 

“No, Satoru, it does,” Suguru’s hands suddenly moved up, squishing Satoru’s face slightly—annoying, but it was Suguru, so he didn’t protest. “I do feel safe.” 

“Then why did you laugh at me for it?” Satoru’s voice clearly gave away his displeasure. 

“Not that much,” 

“You were cackling.” Satoru moved his face closer. “Like a witch.”

“Okay, now that’s rude.” 

“We’re even now,” 

Satoru blinked, and he was being thrown back down against the bed. He attempted to voice his annoyance, but his complaints were muffled with his face colliding straight into Suguru’s pillow. He sank into it like quicksand—there was no getting out any coherent words like that. 

He slowly turned himself around, grumbling as he did so like a child throwing a tantrum, but was very quickly shut up when Suguru fell right down next to him with a dramatic sigh. 

They had stopped touching as a result of that—whatever it was—and now, Satoru only had his Infinity up on himself. Suguru’s legs collided with his as he adjusted the blanket to lay back on top of them, and the energy in the room was being pushed out only after a single buzzing sensation. 

Suguru scooched his body around as he attempted to get comfortable, then stared at Satoru as if he knew exactly how goddamn gorgeous he looked. 

“Go on,” 

Satoru blinked a few times, still stunned by the face in front of him, then nervously placed his hand on Suguru’s waist and activated his technique again. 

He felt relief when he could still feel Suguru’s soft touch under the veil.

Suguru’s forehead fell against Satoru’s own with a comfortable sigh, strands of their hair mixing and jumbling together. 

Their eyes were closed, and Satoru heard Suguru hum lightly, “This is nice.”

Fuck, the way Suguru said that made Satoru nearly melt into the covers like he was an icecream cone in the middle of July. 

Satoru’s hand slowly slid further up Suguru’s waist, pulling him closer with an exhale. 

He could feel the warmth against Suguru’s face, and it made him feel a little better—knowing he wasn’t the only one who was nervous. 

He parted his lips slowly, sort of… mentally preparing himself. He knew Suguru’s voice would continue to make him feel like he was going to explode, and he didn’t want to make more of a fool of himself than he already has. “…What is?” 

“This feeling,” Suguru proved his cautiousness was necessary immediately. “It’s lovely.” 

Satoru was going to have a heart attack. Soon—very soon. He can feel it slowly approaching like some sort of impending doom, and it’s tripping him out even more.

“Is this how it feels for you every day?”

“…Not really,” Satoru hummed. “Usually, it’s more… cold.” 

“Well,” Suguru’s hands placed themselves against Satoru’s side in such a way that he felt like they belonged there. “Does it feel better now…?” 

Satoru let himself absorb the feeling, then eventually, let out a relaxed sigh. “Yeah.” 

The warmth Suguru brought into Satoru’s bubble of Infinity changed it quite a bit, so much that he almost couldn’t recognize it; it went from what felt like a cold winter night to a nice spring day. He felt… even more comfortable. 

He didn’t think that was possible.

The shuffling sound from Suguru’s fingers moving under the blanket got Satoru’s attention. “I love this,” 

“…Mm?” 

“This,” Suguru laughed slightly, and it sounded like gentle hums. “I’ve always felt safe with you, baby, but… it really feels like nothing can touch me like this.” 

Is Satoru the only one among them both that considers what Suguru just said a confession? One that makes his knees weak, in fact? If they were standing up right now, Satoru feels like he could fall right onto the floor in utter worship of the beautiful, beautiful boy laying in front of him.

The Limitless worshipping someone else? 

Really, all he could say to that was just one of his usual snarky comebacks. Still, he knew it hinted at a little more than what he intended it to. “I can,” 

 He heard an amused hum escape Suguru’s mouth. 

“Hm,” God, that tone. “I think you know how I feel about that.” 

Satoru’s mind nearly went blank.

He can tell just from looking at him—Suguru really does love this. Satoru has never been one to pay attention to expressions much—words work just fine, and Suguru has spoken plenty of those—but for some reason, Satoru could stare at Suguru’s face for hours on end. 

Suguru wears his feelings in his expressions both proudly and shamefully, and Satoru loves that about him.

He loves that so, so much.

Does Satoru love… Suguru? Is that what this is?

“What’re you looking at me like that for?”

Satoru’s lips parted, and he blinked a few times, barely registering the question; the tone Suguru decided to speak it in didn’t help with that at all. “...Nothing.”

Suguru hummed lightly for a moment, and even though he likely put no thought behind it, to Satoru, it sounded like a lullaby.

“...You’re a fucking weirdo.”

Suguru scoffed, and yet, his eyes remained closed—as if he was used to this.

“How rude of you,” oh, this fuck was mocking him, wasn’t he? “Just toss me onto the floor, why don’t you,”

“Why do you like this so much, seriously?” Satoru’s hand shifted along Suguru’s waist slightly, and he adored the small reaction it got out of him. “It’s… nothing special.”

“If you said that about yourself, I’d slap you.”

Violent, but it made Satoru’s heart skip a beat anyway.

“It’s because it’s you that I’m doing it with.” Suguru’s voice was soft again. “Because I’m so close to you.”

“...You can get this close to me without sharing, you know.”

“Yes, but… someone else could, too.”

Satoru couldn’t help but scoff at that very unlikely scenario. “Like I’d let them,”

“I know,” Suguru chuckled for a minute, then his expression relaxed as he went silent. “Still… I like how you’re the only one who can touch me like this.”

Satoru’s heart nearly escaped his chest.

Did Suguru want Satoru to himself just as much as Satoru did?

“It’s just me,” Suguru’s hands moved slightly as well, and Satoru felt like he was dissolving. “And you.”

Satoru thought that what Suguru liked about this was the feeling of being safe—protected—and Satoru was the only one who was in it for… the other reason. However, he was just proved wrong so forcefully that it feels like a cursed tool was lodged into his chest.

However, Suguru was right; it’s nice to know that when Satoru’s sharing his technique like this, the only person that can touch Suguru is Satoru—only Satoru. Even more the other way around, he could never forget that. 

He really gets to keep Suguru to himself with this. 

He sincerely finds himself questioning why it was forbidden if it feels this nice. 

Perhaps this was the real reason he was born with this technique—not to shield himself, but to shield Suguru. 

To touch. To be vulnerable, to love—to give Suguru all that Satoru has and more. 

Oh, he wants to give Suguru everything. 

Everything. 

He doesn’t question it—he doesn’t want to. He knows damn well what he wants right now. 

Satoru slowly—nervously—slides his hands up to settle on both sides of Suguru’s face, and the way Suguru’s eyelids lowered in acknowledgement—that’s the wrong word, knowing—made Satoru’s resolve to kiss him even more unbearable. 

When he finally did, utter bliss flooded his mind, senses, everything. He felt on top of the world. 

He would’ve been insane to give this up—to give Suguru up. 

He needs him. And he can finally admit that. 

The brief moment their lips weren’t interlocked, Satoru felt Suguru’s curve—he was smiling. 

Oh, Satoru could kiss him like this forever.