Chapter Text
03.12.14
Chapter 1
“Do you know what this is?” A light voice says, strained from the position of bending over to mimic the size of a seven-year-old boy. Satoru recognizes his mother's voice. She’s gently holding a flower that’s different from all the others in the field, lifting its head, but keeping it in the grass. Satoru hasn’t seen one like this in the many years he’s lived at this house. The others are small, consisting of whites, yellows, and rarer blues; they carve a path from the house to a small, commonly visited shed. His mom calls it a ‘destiny trail.’ They hug Satoru’s legs, lifting almost to his knees from his small size. He looks up from the smaller flowers and sees a larger, bright red flower that stands all the way up to Satoru’s chest.
“No, what’s it doing here?” the short boy asks, greedily but gently touching the flower. It's tall, with a thick green stem and bracts as tall as the rest of the flower. It’s shaped as a star with full petals that fade into a lovely maroon. It has yellow filaments that spew yellow powder when Satoru shakes the flower too roughly. He sneezes when he sniffs up the pollen at the wrong time.
Satoru’s mom continues, “This is a Hippeastrum; I planted it here myself; that’s why there are no others. I planted it for a reason, to represent-” Cut off by the sliding back door slamming open, Satoru hears a second voice: his father. But he doesn’t hear it correctly anymore. It’s distorted—a hiccup in his memory.
09.04.23—present day
Satoru
The first day of sophomore year. Satoru stalls getting up before he realizes he snoozed his alarm one too many times. He doesn’t bother with breakfast, but ensures his younger siblings, Megumi and Tsumiki, get to their school bus safely. Luckily for Satoru, it’s a long bus ride, so the three of them can wake up at the same time. He gives them both a snack, but after Tsumiki falls back asleep, he waits with Megumi at the bus stop and watches him leave.
Satoru has had a love-hate relationship with school since sixth grade. He barely goes in the first place, taking care of Megumi and primarily Tsumiki, but he’s had trouble wanting to go since he started taking care of the two. He doesn’t get along with the kids at school, or rather—pushes away the people at school. Trying to be with kids his age exhausts him; he’s glad to be rid of his old friends. Now, Satoru talks at people instead of with them, either yelling at others or refusing to interact with them.
People know who he is. He’s not just a person to forget, for sure. He makes his presence known in a way only he could. Sure, people scoff behind his back, he gets reprimanded daily, and no one dares to talk to them as a choice, but that is exactly how he prefers it. But still, he stands out just by default. He’d likely be recognizable no matter how he’s acted since sixth grade. It might be because he’s nearly 6’6, or because he has the brightest, white hair and skin anyone’s ever had, or blue eyes that you can see through the glasses he wears to protect his sensitive sight.
Satoru makes his presence known through disrespecting teachers, getting into fights—however, he doesn’t get into fights as much anymore; it’s just his reputation now—and failing to have real conversations with anybody. People say his face doesn’t match his attitude, that he’s too beautiful to be acting this way.
Some people know why he acts the way he acts. That’s why they don’t push, try to give him a hard time. Others think they got close to finding out. ‘I'm different, he might open up to me,’ all the girls say, but Satoru finds no interest in women who wish to be babied and cradled and comforted. He can’t do any of that. He just wishes to find an equal. Someone who doesn’t need comfort or any sappy reason to talk to him. A person who can understand. Someone strong enough to beat him, or tall enough to bump shoulders with—
A thud. Satoru falls.
Suguru
Suguru wakes up early on the first day of school. He wakes up ahead of time every morning, even during the summer. He likes the dark blue sky and birds beginning to wake up, and the comforting smell of the early summer morning. He can hear occasional cars outside of his always-open window, cars that have to wake up every morning earlier than him. He starts his coffee; he doesn't know when he started drinking coffee, but it became so normal that he figures it's always been part of his life. He goes straight to the bathroom, already in the shower by 5:30. He takes his time because he knows that even if he misses the bus, it won’t take long to convince his aunt to drive him to school on the first day. He does all of his morning half-zoned out, breezing through his hour-long shower, greeting his family as they wake up, and considering against breakfast an amount of times he doesn't count.
It’s been half an hour before he realizes how nervous he is to be at this new school. He wishes it could have at least been for freshman year, when nobody knows anybody, and he can pretend he’s been here the whole time. He just hopes people will like him as much as his aunt swears they will. Suguru peels at the dried-up scars on his arm, picking at the scabs that hadn’t healed for years. One bad habit caused from another.
He straightens his hair once it's dry enough and pulls it into a tight bun, but after looking at himself for a few minutes decides on putting half of it up instead. He spends a while getting his bun just right, tugging it left and right and considering how messy he wants it to be, then finally steps out of the bathroom. The smell of his hair products and post-shower humid temperature quickly diminishes as the door opens, letting in a new environment. Suguru shivers. Stepping downstairs for another cup of coffee, his aunt parades him as soon as she sees him for the first time this morning.
“Did you sleep well enough, Suguru? I know you wake up early, but I hope you didn’t get to sleep too late, as you tend to do.” Riko editorializes, just finishing with folding a load of school clothes; two middle school girls peek up from the couch, half asleep. Suguru assumes she woke them up to see Suguru go, considering they leave much after Suguru does. Aunt Riko tosses a basket full of clothes with Mimiko and Nanako’s outfits that they chose a week prior. She hands Suguru's own clothes to him, neatly folded, and smiles lightly. “Go try ‘em on, guys. I’m gonna take pictures of you all, so make it quick because Suguru has to leave at 6:50.” The girls groan and procrastinate for a while before getting off the couch and heading to their rooms to try on the clothes. Suguru heads back upstairs to his room. “Do you want breakfast? I can make you something before you leave if you want.” Aunt Riko strains from downstairs, one hand on her hip and another picking up a laundry basket.
“No thanks, Aunt Riko, I might pick something up on the way,” Suguru yells back, shutting the door behind him and throwing his clothes on his bed. He displays the ensemble flat on his blanket. People often complimented his dark style at his old school, so he hopes it's the same here.
After trying on the outfit, Suguru smiles. He’s happy with it. He hopes people like his style here in Washington more than they did in Louisiana, which was filled with socks over leggings. He continues to pick at his arms without realizing, nervous for how this school will treat him. He looks down at the floor, closing his eyes and giving his mind a break.
“I'm leaving, Aunt Riko. I’ll text you at lunch if I can.” Suguru gives Riko a half-hearted hug before stepping out the door.
His heart beats out of his chest the whole walk. He’s not even paying attention to the others walking past him to the same bus stop as him. His heart never stops beating loudly, not when he waits for a bus next to a couple of others, not when he finally boards the bus, especially not when another person sits next to him. He anxiously picks the skin around his nails, a bad habit formed so he doesn’t ruin his invariably long nails, one that's harder to notice than picking at his scabs. The whole ride is considerably different from Louisiana.
Everyone is quiet except for a few kids, and even they are whispering. There are a couple of kids in the back being quiet in a way they can barely hold, but way less than in the Southeast. He sits modestly, music quiet, either because he’s nervous someone might talk to him and he won’t be able to hear them, or because he blasts his music so loud some people near him will be able to hear through his cheap AirPods. He tries to sit in a way so he doesn’t take up too much space from the girl with a brown bob next to him, but the bus seats are too small for his 6’3 self; however, she pays him no mind, sitting in the aisle with her hands on her knees, scrolling on her phone and talking mindlessly to a blonde boy with an odd haircut. Something falls out of her pocket closest to Suguru, and he tenses up. It’s a pack of cigarettes.
Suguru looks down at the cigarettes and notices they’re the same brand he uses. Because of that, he panics, grazing his hand over his pocket with his hand over his mouth, believing only for a second that they’re his.
“Ah, crap, sorry, dude. Could you get those for me?” She stands up while the bus is still in motion, wafting a smell of tobacco that Suguru had absently noticed when she first sat next to him. This explains that. He awkwardly reaches down, as far down as he can with how his legs are stuffed together, and picks them up upright to ensure none fall out, and hands them to her.
“Thank you.” She takes the cigarettes out of his hand and looks up at him; both her eyes and the blonde guy's eyes are now locked onto Suguru almost offensively, as if to observe him in a way he can’t find a word for. “Are you new? I’ve never seen you before.” She blurts it out, voice rasping. This earns an embarrassed look from the guy next to them. Suguru just looks at her.
Suguru stutters, “Yeah, I am. I just moved here from Louisiana over the summer. Moving from there to here is straight whiplash.” He stops fiddling with his fingers and smiles gently. He doesn’t know what to say, but the girl looks interested. The boy did at some point, but went back to his phone. He seems to be almost the same height as Suguru, maybe 6’2? He wonders how many tall people live over here; maybe he won’t stand out as much. His remark earns a hoarse chuckle from the girl.
“I'm Shoko, you should be our friend.” Ieiri declares, leaving no room for choice. “That’s Kento. He thinks he’s cool and mysterious, but he’s not. Later at lunch, you can meet the rest of us, Kay?” Suguru is confused, but doesn’t question. She and Kento both go back on their phones and occasionally show each other something or bump into Suguru slightly when they laugh at something, but doesn’t directly interact with Suguru until they get off the bus later.
“Do you have your schedule with you?” She asks, motioning her hands as if to say ‘give it to me’. Suguru scrounges through his pockets till he pulls out a half sheet of paper with all of his class periods on it. They keep walking with Kento closely behind them, looking at his phone all the same.
Suguru is confused, deep in his mind. He wonders how it was so easy to make friends, especially ones he thinks he will actually get along with. He doesn’t mind, as socializing is most important to him. He figures that if you have a group to hang out with, you’re less likely to get picked on. A friend group is a protective barrier. Something everyone needs to know is not to be a victim of high school students and their agendas. Having friends makes things easier and less lonely. Suguru couldn't imagine going to school and not having anyone to hang out with. That’s never exactly been an issue for him; he knows, but it’s better this way. For the short time that Suguru didn’t have friends, way back when he first started middle school, it was hell on earth. In any case, he’s happy he has friends now. He’s glad he has his protective barrier, a way to fit into school nicely and easily.
Shoko chuckles and speeds up, waving at a girl and a boy seemingly arguing in a friendly way.
Shoko saves her hands at the two, stopping and hugging Iori, a shorter girl— maybe around 5’2— with two black, loose pigtails and bangs straight across her forehead. Shoko waves at Yu behind Iori’s back enthusiastically, who is the most average-looking dude with a nasty bowl cut. He seems like the nicest one here. Immediately, it's easy for Suguru to tell that Yu is Kento's favorite. The way he looms over him, and he doesn’t mind. He still doesn’t speak, but he seems much more comfortable standing next to Yu. “This is so funny, all five of us have first period together.” Shoko includes Suguru, which brings him to Iori’s attention
“Who’s this?” She asks, breaking free of Shoko’s hold and instead holding her wrist without noticing herself. Yu looks at him too, putting a friendly smile on his face.
“This guy’s name is…” She looks down at Suguru’s schedule, which she’s still holding for some reason. “Suguru! He seemed cool on the bus, so I wanted to introduce all of you. Can he sit with us at lunch? He’s new.”
“I don’t see why not; he was just like me last year,” Yu says. Kento, now that Yu has agreed, nods his head, accepting Suguru.
“Yeah, he can sit with us. Nice to meet you, Suguru!” Iori replies, now both hands are around Shoko’s arm, one around her wrist and the other on her upper arm.
How clingy, Suguru thinks
.
.
.
“You know who else we have homeroom with?” She grimaces, and everyone— except Suguru— knows who she’s talking about. Everyone groans. Kento doesn’t make a sound, but looks notably irritated and has two fingers pinching his nose bridge. No one explains to Suguru who they’re talking about, or why they’re so displeased and unexcited to see him. Suguru doesn’t ask.
“You’d think he’d get moved out of there with how he treated everyone in there last year, including the teacher,” Iori comments, rolling her eyes and beginning to walk towards the entrance.
Suguru isn’t paying attention to where he walks as the classroom is a lot to take in. Not too many kids are here yet, but neither is the teacher. The room is decorated in a familiar way, typical for a woke history teacher. Suguru reminds himself of his favorite teacher. He never had his class, but he was a rare person to find in the Southeast. He loved history and explained stuff to Suguru in a way he never could. He had a room much like this one, but there were not many others like that teacher in Louisiana. Suguru is glad that’s more common here. The only lights that are on are a couple of LEDs surrounding the big whiteboard screen and a lamp in the back of the room. There are presidents above the whiteboard, ones that lie within the timeframe that will be taught in the year. Related posters surround the walls, along with posters with things Suguru could only assume were inside jokes. He walks around absentmindedly behind his friends, already finding their seats, unaware that he is in the middle of the way. He stays zoned out until he hears a thud, along with a dull pain in his shoulder. It seems he bumped someone's shoulder.