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It got bad, from time to time. Even five or so years after everything. Sometimes, there was an identifiable trigger. Other times, there wasn’t. Sometimes, it hit Suguru when he was surrounded by friends, and he’d quietly slip away to avoid dragging others down. More often, it came for him when he was alone. An easy target for misery.
That night, he had been by himself. All day, he could feel it on the horizon, like smelling rain in the air before a storm. Sure enough, the tempest came. The depression, the self hatred, the regret. The guilt. It was easier when he expected it, at least. When he looked the beast in its eye before it swallowed him whole. But it was still hard.
No matter what he did, he couldn’t escape his past. He didn’t make it through a single day without thinking of his failures. Not only the civilians he’d let down on missions, but the corrosion of his very character. The way he abandoned the moral platitudes he’d clung to and gave in to hatred for non-sorcerers. Knowing that he’d ever almost resolved to take the lives of thousands of people ate him alive.
The worst part was that the status of non-sorcerers was still shaky in his mind. He’d still catch himself thinking of them as inferior, or even undeserving of life. It was horrible, he knew. And as much as he wanted to blame it on all the pain he’d been through—pain caused by non-sorcerers, albeit inadvertently—he knew it wasn’t excusable. Only a monster would think to kill so many people, regardless of the reason.
Even Satoru had looked horrified when he’d told him about his plan. Satoru, who had always spoken about non-sorcerers with the same contempt that one might direct toward a mere insect. Satoru, who had grown up in the same pernicious system and developed the same indifference toward life after years of seeing how easily it could be snuffed out.
Sometimes, Suguru wondered whether he could have convinced Satoru to join him. He’d considered it back when he first got the idea. He would have succeeded if he’d been on his side, that was for sure. And, as horrible as it was, he might have even gone through with it if he’d had that confidence. And yet, he never once asked Satoru to accompany him.
Satoru was a light. An obnoxiously bright one, but not unwelcome. He’d entered Suguru’s life right when he’d needed him, loud and blinding and far more lovely than a man like Suguru deserved. The thought of watching that light grow dim, and being the one responsible, left a worse taste in his mouth than a curse.
He couldn’t do that to the man he loved.
Saying he loved him felt too shallow, though. Suguru loved mastering a new skill in hand to hand combat. He loved resting his elbows on the railing of his balcony and smoking at the end of a long day. He didn’t just love Satoru. He was so deeply in love with him that it ached. When he thought too hard about it, it made him ill.
Sometimes, it felt like Satoru might love him as well. A flirty joke would sound a little too sincere, or a touch would linger a little too long, and Suguru would sense something deeper between them. But Satoru would shy away every time. He’d deflect once things felt too real. It hurt, but Suguru understood.
Even if Satoru did love him, the Gojo clan was conservative about more than just jujutsu. Satoru almost certainly didn’t see a relationship with Suguru, or any man for that matter, as an option. He’d be right, Suguru figured. Romance had no place in their line of work. Besides, confronting such feelings would only make it harder when one of them lost the other.
Whatever. There was no use in thinking about it. Chances were, Satoru didn’t feel the same. While the idea crushed Suguru, he also acknowledged that he wasn’t deserving of Satoru’s love anyway. So, it was one less thing to feel guilty about. He just wished that he could feel even a modicum of relief about that.
Instead, it added to the list of things that kept him pressed down into his unmade bed, limbs too heavy with depression to even find a more comfortable position. He hadn’t earned comfort, anyway. So, he remained curled up in a ball, his neck throbbing with pain from hours of being bent forward until his forehead touched his knees.
He felt frail. The strength had drained from his body to the point where he couldn’t even jolt with the force of his sobs when he began another bout of silent crying. He wanted a cigarette. He wanted to make himself bleed. He had the energy for neither, though self destructive habits always felt easier than anything else. Punishing himself made him feel a little better, though that small pleasure brought guilt, just like any other pleasure.
More than a cigarette, though, he wanted Satoru. Even his voice over the phone would have been nice. It wouldn’t be enough, but it would be something. Hell, he didn’t even have to say anything. Suguru just wanted him to pick up if he called. To know he would, despite having witnessed every ugly part of Suguru that he had ever revealed to him.
The fingers of his right hand twitched with the urge to grab his phone from his night stand. Satoru was out with their friends, but he’d answer. Imagining the way he’d greet him excitedly from whatever bar they ended up at made Suguru’s chest feel hollow with longing. He wanted him so badly it made him fucking nauseous. Like he’d gulped down saltwater.
He refused to give in, though. Satoru was enjoying himself. The least Suguru could do was allow him that moment of joy. Even when every second without him felt like a full minute of bleeding out from a fatal wound, he would not make himself any more of a burden. Satoru deserved better than that.
“Suguru?”
All at once, the world around Suguru flooded back to him. His dark room. Cool air. Cursed energy so strong and abundant that he couldn’t have mistaken it for anyone but Satoru’s. He’d been so wrapped up in his feelings that he didn’t notice it approaching, somehow. Now, he could sense it nearby. A door clicked shut, and it moved closer.
“Suguru, where are you?”
Suguru didn’t answer. Partly because he was shocked by Satoru’s arrival, and partly because he really didn’t want to have to yell. Satoru was getting closer, anyway. Suguru could hear his footsteps and feel his cursed energy. It occurred to him that he ought to compose himself before Satoru found him in such a sorry state. Hurriedly, he wiped his tears on his clothed knees and adopted a blank expression.
A moment later, Satoru burst in without knocking. He was still in the outfit he’d worn to the bar, it seemed: gray skinny jeans, a loose white tee, and a fitted black leather jacket that Suguru thought looked a little silly on him. A pair of dark blue rectangular glasses was perched on his nose. He’d bought them a mere week before, and had seldom taken them off since. He looked good. He always did.
Suguru peered up at his best friend through a curtain of dark hair and felt his heart begin to lift a little. He fought against the warm feeling instinctively, but he was powerless to Satoru’s influence. His presence alone had Suguru’s limbs shedding some of the cumbersome weight that had been anchoring him in place. He managed to stretch his legs out very slightly in hopes that it made him look less pitiful.
“Oh,” Satoru said. “Are you… alright?”
Not wanting to lie, and wanting even less to tell the truth, Suguru replied, “What’re you doing here?”
His tone was clipped on account of his mood, but in truth, he was always thrilled when Satoru used the copy of Suguru’s key that he’d given him when he first got the place. It almost made him feel, just for a moment, like they lived together. Like partners did.
“The bar was boring. And I…” Satoru paused and looked around the room as though someone might have been eavesdropping in the corner. “…I was worried about you. Something’s up, isn’t it?”
“I’m fine,” Suguru said automatically.
The canned response—one that Satoru was used to at that point—didn’t work any more than it ever did. Satoru saw right through him. Sometimes, Suguru worried that he could read his mind. But, then again, he’d have run far away by then if he really knew what was going on in his head. If not for the homicidal ideation and prejudice against non-sorcerers, then for the sheer volume of his love for him.
“Don’t lie to me,” Satoru replied, his face stern but imploring.
When he asked like that, it was hard to deny him. It was always hard to deny him, really, even though Suguru pretended that it wasn’t. Regardless, they’d done this before. He knew Satoru would wear him down. He might as well get it over with. So, he took a breath and beckoned Satoru with a wave of his hand. Satoru placed his glasses on Suguru’s night stand and sat down at the edge of the bed, keeping more distance between them than Suguru wanted.
It took a while for the words to come to him. He knew that he felt like he was drowning in a vast ocean of hot tar, but it was hard to articulate that feeling in a way that made sense to others. Although Satoru had obviously been depressed before, he never reached the hadalpelagic depths of misery that Suguru did, and the deep ache of severe, long lasting depression wasn’t something that could be put into words.
However, when he decided to confess his dark thoughts to Satoru back in their third year, he’d made it his goal to let Satoru in. He didn’t want to hide the ugly parts of himself from someone he loved so dearly. Satoru took those ugly things and told him all the ways in which they were beautiful, and it made Suguru feel like a human. So, he wanted to tell him what he was feeling.
“I just don’t… I don’t… feel good,” he started.
Satoru shifted, his expression demonstrating his understanding.
“Is it the same stuff as before?” he asked.
Suguru nodded, and Satoru nodded too. It was a relief to not have to explain everything.
“Can I help?”
If Suguru was a little more out of his head, he might have told Satoru that his presence alone was a considerable help. He wasn’t quite there yet, though, so he kept his mouth firmly shut and shook his head. Satoru frowned at his answer; he wasn’t used to being unable to solve problems.
“Then, can I just stay here?” he offered.
Suguru’s first thought was yes, please, I need you. Another second of consideration made him realize he shouldn’t say that, and should instead tell him to go back to the bar and enjoy himself. A few more seconds passed, during which he started to wonder whether that would come off as passive aggressive, and, after another second, he concluded that it would likely come off that way because that would be his intention.
So what? He wanted his friend to stay and help him through a tough time. He didn’t have to get all weird about it. Satoru had sat with him through moments like these before. That’s what friends did. He could just ask him to stay. A grown man like him could handle that. Easy peasy.
“You can go if you want.”
Except he could never let himself be happy or comfortable. Of course not. Why would he? He hadn’t earned Satoru’s warmth. And when Satoru looked disappointed by his answer, like he wanted him to ask him to stay, Suguru savored the heavy guilt that he felt in the same way one might savor watching a criminal’s live execution.
Still, despite his proclivity for self denial, Suguru was hardly more than a moth in the face of Satoru’s light. Seeing the hurt on Satoru’s face didn’t make it any easier to turn him away, either. So, he amended his statement.
“You can go, but I think I’d really rather you didn’t.”
Satoru lit up.
“Yeah?”
The moment Suguru nodded, he shrugged off his jacket and practically threw himself beside him, resting his head on his pillow. Shamefully, Suguru looked forward to smelling his shampoo on his pillowcase later that night. With Satoru next to him, his body naturally uncurled, and his legs stretched out. The change in position made him wince with pain, but it felt good.
As nice as it was to be close to him, though, something felt wrong. Incomplete. Like there was another step to carry out. Suguru quickly figured out the issue. As he ran his eyes over Satoru’s lithe form, he realized how desperately he wanted to be pressed against him. He imagined feeling him, and even the phantom sensation made his heart pound.
His hand, laid flat on the mattress, itched with the urge to touch. He inched a single pinky closer to Satoru, like it might satisfy his hunger, but it brought no relief. He needed to feel his warmth and solidity. He needed to hold him so tightly and for so long that their bodies grew into one another, creating an inseparable mass. Only then would Suguru feel whole.
Suddenly, Satoru shifted beside him. Panic washed over Suguru for a brief moment as he fretted that Satoru might have heard his thoughts and was getting ready to flee. He convinced himself that such an idea was ridiculous, but he still eyed him warily. Rather than confront him about his thoughts, though, he simply turned toward Suguru and wrapped an arm around him, resting his chin on the top of Suguru’s head.
In an instant, comfort settled upon Suguru. Not just physical comfort, but a profound feeling that coated him and calmed his mind. Although his heart was pounding and his head was somewhat light, he felt at home beneath Satoru’s claiming arm. Satoru himself seemed entirely relaxed as well, which encouraged Suguru to fully let go of his tension.
They hadn’t done this before. They got close at times, and had woken up tangled together on several occasions, but they had never intentionally gotten quite so physically close. Yet, strangely, it didn’t feel new. The times that Satoru let his guard down enough to release Infinity, it felt like they were both holding back. Now, they weren’t. It was that simple.
Suguru still didn’t know how Satoru felt for him, but he could tell that Satoru had been wanting this for a long time. Though he was gentle, his hand was firm between Suguru’s shoulder blades, like he was afraid he’d back away. It was almost possessive. Romantic, even.
“I uh, get the feeling that you don’t wanna talk about it,” Satoru guessed.
Suguru nodded.
“Alright, cool. We can do that later. But for now, I assume you wouldn’t have a problem listening to my voice, am I right?
The assumption was a little egotistical—a joke, sure, but Suguru knew that he was half serious—however, he was right. He always wanted to hear his voice. Even when he was overwhelmed with depression, Satoru’s voice was like the sun peeking through storm clouds. Even if Satoru just maundered about Digimon, he’d be happy to listen. So, he nodded.
“Yeah, thought so,” Satoru said, and Suguru could hear the smirk in his voice. “Y’know, I saw the twins today. They were out with their foster family and I got to say hi.”
The thought of Satoru spending time with Mimiko and Nanako, who Suguru saw as his daughters at that point, made him smile. His chest burned with love as he imagined Satoru trying to impress the girls by doing tricks with Infinity. They used to be very entertained by it, but they got tired of it as they got older. Still, Suguru knew they liked him, even when they rolled their eyes at his jokes and brags.
“They’re mean to me,” Satoru pouted, though it was clear that he was joking, “just like you.”
Suguru’s smile widened.
“But, they’re good kids. They’re loyal and caring, and ridiculously brave. Despite their horrific past, they told me they want to go to Jujutsu High and ‘fight curses with Geto-sama’ one day. Even after seeing how ugly the world is, they want to risk their lives for people. Who do you think they got that from?”
Mimiko and Nanako had been talking about attending Jujutsu High for a while. Suguru disagreed with their decision, as he couldn’t bear to see them hurt, but they refused to change their minds. He hoped they would in the future, even if he was confident that they’d do very well as students. Still, he didn’t want to risk anything, so he decided he’d be a teacher. That way, he could at least help protect them.
Satoru was already planning to be a teacher, which Suguru found laughable at first. When he’d explained that his motivation was to protect the younger generation, though, his heart swelled with adoration. He’d even say it was inspiring. In addition, he figured the job would be less stressful if Satoru was by his side. His mind was made up.
Anyway, Suguru couldn’t take credit for the twins’ kind hearts and determination. They made him a better person, and not the other way around.
“They’ve always been amazing. After all they went through, they got strong, and learned to care for one another. Besides, their foster family has put in a lot of work, too. They’ve taught them so much and take care of them better than I ever could.”
“Sure, they’re naturally awesome, I won’t deny that. But, you, like, nurtured that awesomeness. And don’t give too much credit to their foster family. Those lame asses—”
“Careful,” Suguru warned, nudging Satoru’s leg with his knee.
Ignoring Suguru’s warning and nudging him back harder, Satoru continued, “Those lame asses only showed up after you saved those girls from imprisonment and abuse and then spent months taking care of them while trying to find the perfect family for them, all while still dealing with school and missions.”
Suguru huffed, but he couldn’t suppress a smile. As much as he didn’t appreciate Satoru discrediting the girls’ foster parents, it felt good to be given some credit, even when it felt like he didn’t deserve it. Especially when it felt like he didn’t deserve it.
“Whatever,” he murmured.
“Uh huh. You’re welcome,” Satoru said, satisfied with himself. “I mean it, you know. Those kids are lucky you were assigned to that mission back then.”
Suguru’s smile faltered. Something within him twisted at the words. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that the “back then” Satoru was referring to was a time when Suguru was on the verge of committing mass murder. A person like that wasn’t someone any kid would be lucky to be found by.
“That’s… They deserved someone better. Someone good. Hell, so do you.”
“First of all, quit it with that. We’ve already established that you’re exactly who they needed.” Suguru began to protest, but Satoru went on, “And as for me, who cares about deserving? I chose you. We chose each other. That’s what matters. Besides, if you’d have asked me, I’d have joined you back then. I wouldn’t—fuck, I wouldn’t have even hesitated. If you were gonna go down that path, I’d have gone with you. So what kind of person does that make me?”
The twisting in Suguru’s stomach was replaced by something warm and heavy, almost crushing his lungs with its weight. Because, if he didn’t know any better, he’d say it sounded an awful lot like a love confession. It couldn’t be called that, he knew, but the way Satoru said it was just… People didn’t talk to their friends that way.
He wasn’t sure how to respond. He was starting to get a little choked up, and that weight was still pinning him down, and the look in Satoru’s eyes made him feel like a handsome insect being pinned for display.
“I… I would never have asked you.”
Satoru looked hurt by his statement—a veiled love confession of his own—and Suguru realized that he needed to elaborate.
“I wanted to. I thought about it all the time. Us, together, making the world… more fair, I guess. That’s what I thought at the time, anyway. Nobody else would want to help us do something so crazy, but it would be okay, because we’d have each other, and that would be enough.”
Satoru’s eyes were full of both wonder and sorrow, like he was imagining it alongside Suguru.
Realizing he’d gotten a little carried away, Suguru reeled himself in and went on, “But I couldn’t do that to you. You’re so good, Satoru. I would never forgive myself if I dragged you down with me.”
By the time he realized tears were forming in his eyes once again, he was helpless to stop them. He hated to even imagine doing something so horrible to Satoru. The idea, as enticing as it used to be, made a sinking feeling settle in his chest, and tears naturally followed.
“Oh,” Satoru breathed.
All Suguru could do was curse under his breath and squeeze his eyes shut, willing his body to cease its subtle trembling. His eyes opened immediately, however, when he felt a hand on his face. Satoru watched him, eyes glistening, as he tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, then cupped his cheek and wiped his tears away with a gentle thumb.
Friends didn’t do this. Suguru knew that.
“Satoru…”
“I could…” Satoru paused when his voice shook a little too hard, collecting himself. “I could never see going anywhere with you as being ‘dragged down,’ no matter what. I only feel right when I’m with you, and being good would feel pointless without you. And I know that sounds dumb, but I… I dunno. It’s how I feel.”
A single tear dripped onto the mattress, and Suguru immediately went to hold his face in return, ensuring that no more fell. They probably looked weird, both crying and holding each other’s faces like… like lovers. But all Suguru could care about at the moment was how perfectly Satoru’s face fit in his hold. Like they were molded to fit one another.
Suguru didn’t believe in a higher power, but if one existed, it had to have made them both with each other’s bodies and souls in mind. There had to have been intention behind their compatibility. How could that have been an accident? Nothing about what they had felt like an accident. Suguru didn't believe in soulmates either, but isn’t that what they were?
“Suguru… You know I’d follow you anywhere, right?”
He asked it like he was afraid. Not of the answer, but of the meaning behind his own words. And Suguru understood then for certain what that meaning was. Because he had been right. Friends didn’t do the things they did. They didn’t hold each other’s faces as they cried, or share bikes despite both owning one, or look at each other like they hand painted the entire goddamn sky.
“Why?” he asked.
It wasn’t a real question. He knew the answer. He just needed Satoru to admit it.
“Oh, c’mon. You know, don’t you?”
Despite the playfulness of the words themselves, Satoru’s expression and tone of voice betrayed his consternation. If that didn’t make it obvious that Suguru was correct, the fact that he left room for him to come to his own conclusion rather than admitting it told him all he needed to know. The question was an invitation. He wanted him to say it first, to spare himself the embarrassment if he had misread things.
“…How long?” Suguru asked.
Satoru’s breath lost its rhythm briefly as he realized what Suguru meant. His hand trailed down to Suguru’s jaw, where his thumb stroked the skin softly. It must have been more to soothe Satoru himself than for Suguru’s sake, but Suguru enjoyed the gentle touch. He brought his own hand down to the side of Satoru’s neck when it seemed the tears had stopped.
“Um. Ha, I uh, I don’t even know. I think—I mean, I wasn’t sure what I was feeling, you know? I had it figured out by our third year, but… Ugh, it sounds so dumb, but I think I’ve kinda always…” Satoru looked away and clenched his jaw before continuing, “…always… loved you.”
A new feeling, completely opposite to the sinking from before, filled Suguru. Something warm, light, and restless. Realizing that Satoru probably loved him was nothing compared to hearing confirmation. If the realization crashed into him like a waist-high wave, Satoru’s confession hit him like a ton of bricks. In a good way, to be clear.
“So, then, you… do you…” Satoru began uncertainly, trailing off.
Suguru was nodding before Satoru even stopped speaking.
“Yeah. I do,” he confessed.
Satoru exhaled shakily, a smile making its way to his face. Suguru fully expected him to say something dumb and cocky to escape the frightening tenderness of the moment, but, shockingly, none of his usual attitude was present.
“Okay. Good. That’s… That’s good.”
“You didn’t know?”
As much as Suguru wanted to think he’d kept it hidden well, Satoru was smarter than most people gave him credit for. He’d always worried that he had figured him out and was too nice to say anything. Then again, Satoru wasn’t “too nice” to do just about anything.
“Don’t say it like that. You hid it pretty well,” he complained. Then, he softened his voice and said, “I mean, I… I hoped, y’know, and I thought maybe, but… I never let myself get too optimistic.”
Suguru knew how he felt. He wasn’t blind, but he wasn’t foolish, either. It would be stupid to get his hopes up. That’s what he’d thought, anyway.
“Yeah, I… Same here. Regardless, I doubt we could have gotten away with dating back in school even if we both wanted it, anyway.”
What he didn’t mention was the fact that he felt so undeserving of Satoru that he hadn’t even allowed himself to imagine a future in which they were together. Every time a thought entered his mind, he felt guilty for subjecting even a fake, cognitive version of his friend to a lifetime with him. That, more than anything, kept him from pursuing Satoru.
“Well, now that we’re not in school…” Satoru began, smirking dumbly and raising a brow.
Suguru was fully aware of what he was getting at, and wanted nothing more than to say yes. Despite being conditioned to ignore his wants and live as a tool, he hadn’t gone a single day without wishing he could have Satoru in the way he wanted. It would be ridiculous to turn him down. And yet, guilt was creeping at the edges of his mind, commanding him to spare Satoru from himself.
“Hey,” Satoru got his attention. “Don’t think so hard. You’ll get wrinkles.”
A new kind of guilt introduced itself as Suguru realized he was bringing down the mood. Not that mood hadn’t been particularly buoyant before, of course.
“Sorry. Yeah. We can…”
The hand on Suguru’s jaw shook him slightly.
“Don’t do that. We’re adults now, we have to talk about our feelings.”
Suguru almost snorted at hearing something like that coming from Satoru, but he managed to reduce the noise to a sharp exhale through his nose accompanied by a twitch at the corners of his lips.
“I’m serious,” Satoru said.
The stern look on his face was cute. Satoru wasn’t usually cute, unless he was asleep and therefore unable to say anything annoying or vainglorious, but the word popped into Suguru’s head automatically. Already, Satoru was lightening his mood.
“I know, you’re right,” Suguru agreed.
“Okay. Good. Then let’s talk about it.”
It was hard to think of what to say. They’d already had a whole conversation in which Satoru had done a decent job of talking him through his internal struggles, and even dispelling some of that negativity. Those feelings were still there, though. They wouldn’t disappear any time soon. He figured they were something he’d have to work through over time.
“Honestly, I don’t think it’s something we can talk through,” he admitted. “I just need to figure it out on my own.”
Satoru’s face scrunched up like Suguru had said something he found distasteful.
“What do you mean on your own? I’m right here.”
“It’s not your job to—”
“It’s not a job, Suguru. It’s something I want to do, because I like you. A lot. But, I get what you’re saying, I think. It’s a process. Not just something that can go away after a talk.”
Sometimes, Suguru forgot that Satoru could be like that. He usually had such a cavalier attitude, so it almost took Suguru by surprise when he dropped it to say something sincere and insightful. He was right, though. It would be a process. It already had been one, really. And Satoru had been there with it through it all. Of course he understood.
“Yeah,” he confirmed. “And, uh… thanks.”
Satoru smiled, likely amused by how timid Suguru was being.
“You don’t have to thank me. Actually, you probably shouldn’t thank me. I’ve got my own problems that you’ll have to deal with.”
“Oh, I know,” Suguru teased.
The glare he got in return triggered a dumb smile, which got wider as Satoru rolled onto his other side so he was turned away from him. Suguru was quick to lay a hand on his shoulder and slide closer until he was nearly pressed against him. He could feel Satoru freeze slightly and worried he’d overstepped, but when he peeked over his shoulder, he saw a grin on his face, and his body relaxed just as quickly as it had tensed.
“C’mon Satoru,” he said, leaning in close. “Don’t be so dramatic.”
Asking Satoru not to be dramatic was like asking a fish not to swim. But, he’d ask anyway, if only to see the dirty look it earned him. Predictably, he did get a dirty look, though there was mirth in Satoru’s eyes as he turned his head to look up at him. Suguru smiled down at him, which got Satoru’s act of annoyance to melt away, replaced in an instant by a bright smile of his own.
Gently, Suguru pushed on his shoulder, encouraging him to lie on his back. Satoru took the hint and repositioned himself so Suguru was leaning over him. For a moment, they were happy to just look at one another. Suguru trailed his eyes over his pretty face, looking at him in a way he’d never allowed himself to.
He let his gaze linger on every feature, giving himself time to appreciate each aspect of the beautiful man beneath him without shame. Meanwhile, Satoru looked back with the same intensity. The longer they stared, the harder it was for Suguru to ignore how much he wanted to kiss him. It felt like the right moment. Satoru must have felt the same, because his gaze flicked between Suguru’s lips and eyes.
“Satoru,” he said quietly.
In a slow but confident movement, Satoru lifted his arms and interlocked his fingers at the back of Suguru’s neck. He didn’t pull him down, but the signal was clear.
“Suguru,” he responded.
Not breaking eye contact, Suguru rested his forearms on either side of Satoru’s head, leaving their faces mere inches apart. He didn’t even manage to get settled in his new position before Satoru lifted his head to try to meet him in a kiss. His eagerness made Suguru laugh softly, a little mocking but mostly in disbelief at how lucky he was.
Before Satoru could kiss him, he backed away just out of his reach. Even at a moment like that, it was fun to mess with him. Especially when it earned him a halfhearted scowl, which made it hard not to laugh again.
“What was that for?” Satoru demanded, trying to tug him down by the neck.
“Just wanted to make you mad,” Suguru confessed.
Before Satoru could complain, Suguru captured his lips in a kiss. The annoyance that could be felt in the tension of his hands and shoulders was gone in an instant, and his arms wrapped around his neck to keep him from pulling away again. Not that Suguru would have tried to, anyway.
He wasn’t sure he ever wanted to stop kissing Satoru. He felt surrounded by him, sensing nothing but his smell and heat and touch. And while the physical sensation itself was pleasant on its own, just knowing that he was kissing Satoru made him feel giddy. He couldn’t stop his hands from running up and down his sides, through his hair, beneath his ears—anywhere he could reach now that he was allowed to.
Satoru, adorably, seemed eager to take charge of the kiss. Maybe Suguru should have let him, just to be nice, but he preferred a bit of a fight. Just about everything with them was a push and pull. A competition. That’s how they both liked it. Why would that change for a kiss? Just like with anything else they did, Suguru would make Satoru earn his victory.
As it turned out, though, he didn’t seem to want the victory too badly. The longer Suguru kept him pressed down, the better he got at learning what made Satoru gasp and hum—nipping his lip, brushing his fingers over his neck—and any will to lead the kiss was ultimately forgotten by Satoru.
Suguru smiled into their kiss, satisfied. It was unlike Satoru to give in like that, which made it even more enjoyable when he did. And, pride aside, he was cute like that. Unlike usual, he took Suguru’s redirections easily. Whenever he’d get too enthusiastic, Suguru would guide him to slow things down, and some of his verve would go to his fingers instead, which took to brushing through Suguru’s hair.
After some difficult deliberation, Suguru decided to pull away and catch his breath. Satoru followed his lips a few inches before letting his head fall back down to the pillow. Although he let out a displeased sound when Suguru ended their kiss, he gazed up at him with a lazy smile and half lidded eyes like he was too happy to care.
“That was good,” he remarked, his smile widening.
“Yeah, it was,” Suguru agreed.
Then, without warning, the arms around his neck tugged him down until he fell on top of Satoru. He tried to raise himself up so as not to crush him, but he didn’t allow him a single inch of space. So, Suguru surrendered with a sigh that was somewhere between defeated and pleased and wrapped his arms around Satoru’s waist.
Being able to hold him was almost as good as the kiss. They’d hugged before, but never like this. Never with Satoru’s hands in his hair, or Suguru’s ear to his chest so he could count each beat of his heart. They hadn’t done any of that while sober, anyway. And, most of all, they’d never done it while knowing it meant the same thing to them both.
“Hey, Suguru?”
Suguru hummed.
“I didn’t eat while I was out,” Satoru announced.
“And what does that have to do with me?”
It was obvious what it had to do with him, but Suguru refused to let him get away with hinting at something he wanted like a child. He was usually so direct with what he wanted, which was already annoying on its own a lot of the time. Being coy about it was even worse. Suguru was pretty sure he only did it to piss him off.
Satoru huffed at Suguru’s blatant dismissal of whatever dumb game he was trying to start, and said, “Do you want me to order food or not? I’m buying.”
Part of him was annoyed by how often Satoru insisted on paying for him. For a long time, it was easy to read the offer as Satoru’s attempt to make himself feel stronger or more masculine, and to enforce a dynamic in which he had the power. As Suguru got older, though, he realized he was looking at things through an immature and insecure lens.
Sure, Satoru liked to make sure everyone knew how powerful he was, including Suguru. However, as much as they competed, they weren’t stupid kids anymore. They didn’t need to prove anything. And, if they ever felt like they did, they could just spar or play a video game. What was most likely, Suguru realized, was that Satoru wanted to pay for his food sometimes because he liked him, and enjoyed doing favors for him.
The idea made him feel like a kid with a crush. He had to stop it.
“I can pay for my own food,” he argued.
“I didn’t ask whether you could pay, I asked whether you wanted me to order food for us.”
Leave it to Satoru to be a dick while trying to do a favor for someone. Despite his attitude, though, Suguru couldn’t help but be a little charmed by the gesture. And, hey, far be it from him to keep Satoru from being chivalrous for the first time ever.
“Fine,” he acquiesced. “Get my computer from my desk.”
“Bossy,” Satoru nagged, though Suguru could see a smile on his face as he turned to slide off the bed.
A few minutes later, food was ordered from an American chain restaurant that had become comfort food for them over the years, and they were lying down once again. This time, Suguru was on his back and Satoru was lying perpendicular with his knees bent, his head on Suguru’s stomach.
Satoru typed away at his fancy modern phone while Suguru absentmindedly played with his hair and stared at the ceiling. Usually, silence was a harbinger of thoughts that were at times so dark that they terrified Suguru. His mind was oddly at peace, though. For once, those thoughts weren’t so hard to fight off. He was able to give in to contentment.
A long exhale left him as he realized that he didn’t have to dread any oncoming depression, because, at least for a little while, it wouldn’t come. He was even more sure of that fact when Satoru set his phone down and turned onto his side so he was facing Suguru, grinning widely.
“What’s the face for?” Suguru questioned.
Rather than matching his attitude, Satoru simply stated, “I’m happy.”
Suguru was slightly taken aback by the sincere answer, but he definitely liked hearing it, especially when it was accompanied by that blinding smile. Fuck, he liked him so much. He didn’t even know what to do with everything he felt for him. It was like he couldn’t contain it all within himself.
He couldn’t keep himself from brushing Satoru’s bangs out of his face, making sure he could see every detail of his eyes. Satoru leaned into his hand like a cat, and Suguru’s heart skipped a beat. It was hard to believe that any of this was allowed. But it was, it seemed, because Satoru didn’t push him away. He did the opposite, in fact.
Even if it wasn’t something that he’d get used to any time soon, Suguru could at least accept that he could get what he wanted every now and then. Maybe he even deserved some of it. If someone as good as Satoru loved him, he had to be deserving of some things, right? He’d probably go back on that logic later, but he could accept it for the time being. As long as Satoru kept looking at him like he was special.
And even when he stopped looking, even when he inevitably went back home, Suguru would remember how it felt to be looked at in that way. The way Satoru felt about him was written in his eyes, and it was a sight that he could never forget. That alone wouldn’t fix him, but it certainly couldn’t hurt.
“I’m happy too.”