Archive of Our Own

Suguru sat in bed with a laptop on his lap, a soft— forgotten— blanket folding around him along with the pillows he purposefully placed around himself to make the space feel more cramped. A strand of his hair fell in front of his face as he huffed in annoyance. He has been trying to write the next chapter of his book for weeks, yet he can’t quite get into the right headspace for it. Worst of all, he keeps getting new, completely unrelated, story ideas.

How is he supposed to work like this?

His laptop screen was blinding, a million tabs open with random sites and google searches of different synonyms for numerous words. It was late already, the middle of the night in fact, and the blankets and pillows felt far too tempting. He could go to bed, succumb to sleep and maybe get 4 hours before work if he tried hard enough.

But then he wouldn’t get anything done, would he? This has been Suguru’s routine for a while now— wake up, work, procrastinate, sleep, repeat.

He has always been creative, he has been the art kid, the fanfic writer, the arts and crafts student each professor asked to help with decorations. Suguru liked creating. No, he loved to create. Suguru liked sculpting things out of clay, feeling his ideas take shape under his fingerprints. He liked writing and researching, making references even if he knew most people wouldn’t bother to understand. Suguru liked to draw, to make jewellery, to do origami and papercrafts— he always liked to create, and he always will.

Though, sometimes artblock got to him too. Sometimes, he couldn’t form his thoughts right, couldn’t write all of it down– feeling overwhelmed by so many opportunities— and sometimes he had none.

It was stupid.

When Suguru got desperate, he let loose a bit more. He rationalized, if he couldn’t write anything serious now, he would do something for himself once in a while. It’s not like his book wasn’t for himself as well– but it was supposed to be grammatically correct and it actually had to make sense. The duality of being a writer; you can write whatever you want, but you actually kind of need to figure out what that is.

Letting loose, away from the publishing, Suguru could write whatever he wanted. It’s not like someone was going to read it, anyway. It was just like in middle school, when he wrote fanfiction.

This time though, Suguru created a character of his own.

That is how Terumichi was made. Per Suguru’s description, Terumichi had short white hair— hair he sometimes depicted resembling a Brocken's spectre in the light— and mesmerizing blue eyes that he associated with Moonstones. Terumichi— sometimes referred to as just Teru or Michi— was Suguru’s ideal type in some way. Terumichi was what Suguru always came back to, his safe space and a way to express himself as freely as in his earlier life.

The ideas Suguru had to discard before because they didn’t fit his story narrative now ended up with Terumichi. Suguru had hundreds of different versions of him now, each one having three things in common— his name, his hair, and those mesmerizing eyes of his which Suguru never managed to portray exactly as he imagined.

Masterpieces are hard to replicate after all, even if they’re just inside his head.

Suguru created Terumichi a while before publishing his first book, now working on his third. His last two books didn’t even come close to flopping, people loved them and they were the reason he could send his sisters to college— but Suguru’s favorite works never went public.

He snapped out of his thoughts as Mizuki, his adorable chinchilla cat, jumped on his keyboard. Suguru quickly moved to save his file before she managed to somehow delete the whole file or something. It happened once and never again. Nope.

“Hey Mizuki, you hungry?” he cooed. Mizuki was purring, completely ignoring his keyboard now, it was as if she didn't jump on it just moments ago.

Suguru sighed, closed his laptop and gently brought Mizuki into his lap to scratch behind her ears. An angel of a cat, truly. When she wasn't deleting files.

Glancing into the mirror across his room, Suguru couldn't help but notice how disheveled he looked. He didn’t have work today— which was just a regular café job— Suguru didn’t bother dressing up. He didn’t plan on leaving the house and he was right. His hair was tousled, his eyebags digging into his skin seemed permanent by now and his shirt had loosely fallen off one shoulder. He was a mess, but did he care? Not really.

Mizuki jumped off his lap, heading out of the room once she got enough attention and wasn’t concerned with him anymore.

Glancing over to his left, Suguru picked up the laptop and finally set it aside. He was done with serious business today. Maybe tomorrow. Yeah, he’ll do it tomorrow.

Instead, Suguru got up and headed over to his work desk. It was littered with pens, pencils, markers, papers and completely random supplies. Perched in the middle of the desk on a stand was a small figurine he had been working on. White hair, moonlight blue eyes. It was a new AU he had been inspired to explore, some sort of hacker-vigilante idea he got after watching the new episodes of his favorite series.

The figure was almost done, fully molded and baked, only missing the color. Suguru tried to match the colors to his vision, yet with Terumichi being so perfectly visible in his mind, he couldn’t get it perfectly right.

Suguru sat in his chair, his back already aching from the hard material of his chair. He tried to help make the seat more comfortable with a pillow before, but it never helped, so he gave up. The chair creaked in protest, yet with how old it is and how cheap Suguru got it for, he couldn’t care less.

Grabbing his sealed off paint from before, Suguru opened it and grabbed a brush. Not too thin, not too thick, just right for the base coats. He would add the details later.

Sometimes Suguru wished Terumichi was a real character, just so he could buy himself merch. Though, with the amount of keychains, pins and figures he has made of him, maybe that wouldn’t be necessary.

Soft brush strokes left paint behind them, staining the bland color of the base with whites, blues and blacks. In some way, Suguru knew Terumichi represented the opposite of him. Suguru’s long raven hair which reached down his back was a contrast to Michi’s silky white, his cocky and confident personality a contradiction to Suguru’s avoidant habits. Maybe it would be more fun to go out with Terumichi. If only he was real.

But he’s not. So Suguru will stick to making cute little keychains instead.

The pesky, irritating, absolutely aggravating sound of his alarm woke him up again. Again, as if he didn’t set it himself.

Suguru got up moments after hitting the snooze button, quietly coaxing himself into getting dressed after finishing his morning routine.

Since it's Friday and he's working the afternoon shift, Suguru slept in today. He might have missed half of the day, but it's not like he was doing anything important with his life. At least not something he considered important.

Since he got to work on Terumichi yesterday, he's in a somewhat good mood. Which meant he had some motivation to spice up his look for the day. He doesn't usually dress up, but he still— kind of— has to keep up appearances so he doesn't scare away potential customers.

Who doesn't dig an alternative style nowadays? Suguru definitely does.

He's not a hardcore emo or punk guy, no, but he has always liked dressing in a way somewhat similar.

Suguru did his eyeliner, even bothering to put on eyeshadow, then pulled his hair into a loose half-up-half-down bun hairstyle. His nails were painted from two days ago, so he didn't need to do those at least.

His uniform is what Suguru would call an unflattering pink, though he's sure his sisters would argue it looked good on him— it was a casual cherry blossom colored T-shirt with the café logo on the upper right and pants of his choosing. Nothing special. That's why, since he had the energy, Suguru decided to add some jewellery.

A choker wouldn't hurt— some crystal bracelet he got from his friend Shoko would work as well— and of course he switched from the purple to his black ear gauges. Pretty good if he could say so himself.

After grabbing his bag, wallet and keys, Suguru headed out.

The train was crowded of course, it was a work day and it was the perfect time to board to get to work on time. Maybe he should've left earlier. Just to stay away from the crowds.

Coffee in hand, Suguru sat near the window, glancing outside every so often. It was a view he was used to, one he found comfort in, he guesses, nothing special yet that's what made it calming. A quiet constant, even in the uncomfortable crowd of people.

He was hungry. Really fucking hungry.

He was somehow stupid enough not to eat breakfast, but since he's going to work on this train and not the earlier one, he won't be able to eat till his break.

God, it's too early for this shit.

Suguru felt sick to his stomach, he really should have eaten something— especially since he always gets motion sickness on the train if he doesn't eat in the morning.

He could feel some sort of imaginary bile rising in his throat, he knew it wasn't there, there was nothing to puke out other than stomach acid, but it still made him feel sick.

Suguru tried to drown out the noises of the train and hunger swirling in his gut by pushing an earbud into his ear. Small, compact earbuds with vacuum-like properties to get rid of sound. His sisters, Mimiko and Nanako, got it for him for Christmas. He couldn't say no to them, and the earbuds turned out great anyway.

Staring off into nothing, Suguru waited for his stop. His fingers gently fidgeted with his silver ring, turning it absentmindedly.

He glanced over at his bag, a small Terumichi pin on it along with a glitter keychain he struggled to figure out how to make. You could say it was cringe, yeah, carrying around merch of your own character was a bit odd, but it's not like it was illegal.

His hand gently brushed against the plastic, deep in thought.

He really didn't want to go to work today.

Suguru clocked into work right on time, waving quiet hello’s to his co-workers before sliding into the employees only room.

He stuffed his bag into his locker, and, making sure his hair was fine one more time, he headed out.

Suguru's workplace was a small cozy-vibe cafe near the middle of Tokyo in some less known street— it got as loud as you could imagine outside, yet inside was a different story. They didn't get many customers like the more popular places did during lunch rush, so it was comfortably quiet.

The walls were painted in soft shades of pinks and beiges, plants and flowers being a regular sighting— which was nice, only if he didn't have to be the one to water them all the time. The place had a lot of natural light as well. If Suguru was still in college, he would have loved studying here.

A head of fluffy brown hair in the corner of his eye caught his attention.

“Getou-sama! Good morning!”

Haibara Yu, his overly positive and polite co-worker. Haibara has been working here longer than Suguru, yet he still treats him as his senior.

“Good morning, Haibara-san.”

Suguru mustered up a soft smile, just to be polite— the kid was trying so hard he felt it was appropriate.

“I told you, just Getou is fine.” Suguru reminded him, yet didn't want to push it too much.

Haibara stayed with him for a bit as he set things up at the register, their conversation flowed at a comfortable pace— even if it was mostly Haibara talking and Suguru nodding along, only sometimes adding a short comment.

After a while, Haibara wandered off towards his friend Kento who had just walked in— the one he claimed he wasn't dating, but the sparks were flying anyway.

Once again, Suguru was left on his own. Business was slow today, so he left Haibara go yap with his boyfriend and took charge at the register.

A quiet jingle of the door opening alerted Suguru of a new customer. Just as he was about to put on his best customer service smile he could muster up—

“I'll have a milk tea with extra maple syrup,” the woman spat out immediately, not even bothering with a polite ‘hello’.

Rude.

“Coming right up.” Suguru reached to the back, setting the milk and tea to boil as he grabbed the maple syrup.

The woman seemed impatient, tapping her foot against the floor rhythmically and checking her watch every few moments.

Suguru already felt she was going to be trouble. He just hoped she wouldn't take it out on him.

With the milk tea done, Suguru poured it into a cup and added the extra maple syrup.

“That’ll be ¥550,” he said, trying to stay as polite as he could, even if her tapping against the floor was driving him insane by now. The woman had heels, which didn't make it any more bearable.

She grumbled something under her breath before taking out her wallet and handing him the money roughly. She pulled her hand back immediately, as if he was filthy or something, then left without another word. If anything, she was a filthy monkey.

Suguru let out a huff of frustration after the door shut behind her, he dragged a hand across his face.

At least she didn't make a fuss about the drink being made wrong or something.

Today was a bit.. rough. Even though there weren't many customers, they seemed to have unanimously agreed to be in a bad mood. Suguru was done with today and all he wanted to do was to go home and work on his Terumichi figure.

Haibara left a few moments ago to hang out with his little boyfriend Kento, and Suguru offered to clock out for him, so he was left to his own devices.

There was no one to bother him now.

Just as Suguru was about to lock the register, he heard the door jingle open and the ragged breathing of someone who probably ran a marathon to get here before they closed.

“Hi, Hello– Sorry— I know you're closing, but could I order quickly?”

9:55 PM.

5 minutes before closing.

Suguru braced himself as he turned, half expecting some middle school kid who just had to get their caffeine fix for the night. Instead, he was met with a head of soft white locks and moonstone blue eyes staring at him.

For a moment, Suguru stilled. And for a moment, he thought he was hallucinating.

Terumichi?

It was clear the guy ran all the way here, his heavy breathing and the way he rubbed the sweat off his palms— probably hoping Suguru didn't notice— were all pretty clear signs.

Suguru couldn't take his eyes off of him.

He stood in front of the register, half bent over trying to catch his breath. He was wearing a light gray hoodie and some sort of manga t-shirt, though he couldn't tell because the hoodie was halfway zipped up. When he stood up, Suguru felt the air getting knocked out of his lungs.

This guy was tall.

Suguru was considered tall himself, but he definitely had a few inches over him.

His sky blue, crystal-like eyes were pointed right at him, and for the first time in his life, Suguru was at a loss for words.

“Hello?” The guy was radiating awkwardness. That was probably Suguru's fault for not replying.

His voice brought Suguru out of his daze, and he quickly took a hold of himself.

“Ah– yes, of course. What can I get you?” Sugru mentally slapped himself.

Fuck, he's cute.

His disheveled hair sloppily fell across his face; the sight could compare to the delicate, bell-like Snowdrop flowers. Suguru really needed to stop researching flowers for his books.

“I'll have a Sakura latte with extra whipped cream and extra sugar,” his voice was smooth and, unlike his earlier loss of breath, he had a much more confident aura now if he ignored his fidgeting.

All Suguru could muster up was a curt nod, immediately moving to prepare his order. He felt as if he had been completely thrown off course, all because of one stranger.

What chance is there to meet someone who looks exactly like the character that you made up? Especially when their features are so otherworldly. Suguru should ask him for his number. Or at least his name.

Finishing the latte, Suguru gently handed it to him, his body stiffening as the man’s hand brushed against his.

“That’ll be ¥450,” Suguru stated, his voice slightly strained which made him cringe internally.

The man pulled out his wallet— Suguru couldn't help but notice the small Agumon sticker on it— and handed him the money.

Come on, Suguru, say something.

Suguru cleared his throat nervously, fidgeting with his ring as he spoke.

“I uh, haven't seen you around here before,” he pointed out. He could feel the man's gaze on him and Suguru had to admit, he literally was the real life Terumichi.

“I usually come by in the mornings,” the man added, “just needed a bit of extra sugar today.”

Suguru noted the stranger's light tone.

“Cool.”

Shit, what does he say now?

Suguru couldn’t help but notice the stranger's biceps due to his sleeves being rolled up— and shit, he looked built.. Definitely built.

For a few awkward moments, they just stood there. Suguru could feel his gaze on him, yet when he glanced towards him, he wasn't looking.

“So.. I'll see you around? Sorry for making you stay extra.” The guy smiled, it was warm, still slightly unsure, yet the awkwardness seemed to be neutralized due to his charm.

“No problem,” Suguru swallowed his words, “yeah, see you around.”

Just as the man turned around to leave, his snowy white hair sticking out like a sore thumb, Suguru finally mustered up the courage to speak.

“Hey–” he called after him— "what's your name?”

The stranger stilled, holding onto the door knob. He turned his head towards Suguru, his eyes reminiscing of beautiful, blue, Flying Saucer Morning Glories. Suguru felt the air leave his lungs at the sight, the stranger’s hair seemingly glowing in the moonlight rays.

“Satoru,” he smiled, “Gojo Satoru.”

“It was nice meeting you,” Suguru swallowed, “I’m Getou Suguru.”

“Good night, Suguru!” Satoru's smile widened, then he waved goodbye.

Suguru’s trip home was more of a daydream than he’d like it to be. He couldn’t stop thinking about Terumichi— no, he couldn’t stop thinking about Satoru. It was as if he was drowning in the sea of his ocean eyes and he wasn’t complaining. The man was a sight for sore eyes.

He felt a bit guilty knowing he now basically has merch of this total stranger, but that wasn’t the original plan. It's not his fault Satoru looks like Terumichi. He couldn’t help but wonder if his hair was dyed, if it was some sort of rare bloodline thing or if it was a genetic mutation.

He’s curious. That’s all it is.

And that was him being delusional.

The guy is irrationally hot; the lines of his jaw, the gentle locks of his hair, God, even the way he held himself was attractive. How could he get so lucky? It would’ve been better if he hadn’t panicked out right, though. He just hopes he didn't make a bad first impression.

Suguru made it home around 10:30 PM.

He unlocked the door, slid his shoes off along with his coat and after beelining to his room— he faceplanted into his bed. Mizuki, who followed him from the door, tenderly rubbed her face against his head, demanding attention. Suguru gave in, scratching behind her ears as she purred in return.

He gently lifted his head, looking up at the small dark wood shelf in the corner of his room which was filled with keychains, pins, figures and even a plushie of Terumichi. It felt wrong, but it’s not like he made them with Satoru in mind.

And he probably won't be seeing him again either.

After consoling himself and fighting numerous mental obstacles, along with fighting Mizuki off, Suguru got up and changed into his night clothes. Something comfortable, light— great for shrimp sitting at his desk for another three hours. He stopped at a bakery earlier, so he should be okay for a while in that regard as well. He’s not that hungry anyway.

Suguru plopped down onto his seat with a sigh, glancing towards the small, closed, paint container.

Maybe he could try mixing the right colors again. He does have an actual reference now.

Suguru reached down into his paint box, taking out a clear container and a few different paint tubes.

He started with a white base, adding a good amount of blue to make a sky blue. He has tried adding a small amount of green before, just to make it seem more fresh— the shade was similar, but it just wasn't it. It was his color.

Suguru added a bit of red, then more blue— some white, even though it doesn't change much due to the concentration— and yet his mind kept straying to Satoru.

Suguru's mind was struggling to focus when all he could think of were those mesmerizing blue eyes. You'd think the fact would help him since he's trying to match the color, yet it was hard to focus on the things in front of him with Satoru running through his mind.

What's wrong with him?

He has never been one to dwell on social interactions, love at first sight or crushes in general, so why hasn’t been able to get Satoru out of his mind? He should. He really should.

Suguru has never dated. Sure, he was asked out a few times in college, but he always refused. He simply wasn’t interested, and that was that. So why, why did he have to be the first?

Suguru started to feel he was being delusional, more so that he knew he was being delusional— they only talked once, briefly.

Before he knew it, his eyelids were heavy from sleepiness. He stays up late when he has work to do, but right now he can’t seem to bother. Stinging tears prickled at the corners of his eyes, his mind threatening to shut off. Maybe all that overtime finally got to him.

But what can he do? His sisters depend on him, sure they’re staying at a school dorm for now, but he’s still the one putting in the work for their college funds. Someone has to make sure his girls get through life.

Their parents died a few years ago, around the time he graduated, so he didn’t have to worry about his college tuition with his parents’ backing— but due to their financial situation, they had to cut a portion of Nanako’s and Mimiko’s college funds, which he intends to raise back to what they were before if not more.

Somehow, Suguru managed to stumble into bed, covering himself with a warm, soft blanket. It felt as if he fell into a field of flowers on a warm sunny day, yet his body felt stiff and heavy. He didn’t bother untying his hair, even kept his makeup on which he knew he’d regret in the morning. Thankfully, he doesn’t have work tomorrow, so that’s future Suguru’s problem.

His whole body aches, maybe it's from the stress, or maybe it's from overworking himself way too much these days. Even though he's been staying in late at the coffee shop, he still feels as if he's been doing less and less. It makes him feel incompetent, as if no matter how much he tries, he’ll never actually get to what he wants. So what's the point in trying?

Ah, that's right. His sisters.

That's why he tries. That's why he goes to bed late, why he tolerates rude customers, why he pushes himself to write even when he knows it's no good.

It's better to try, even if he ends up failing.

For Nana and Mimi.

Light spills through his curtains, illuminating his comfortably messy room, the sounds of cars honking coming from his slightly left ajar window acting as an alarm he didn’t want to set.

Suguru groans quietly, rubbing a hand over his face as he stares at the ceiling. He should have properly shut his window last night.

Whatever. What's done is done.

After staring at his ceiling for a few more minutes, he gets up and instead opens the window fully, leaning out to feel the air against his face. Today seems rather windy, yet the sun warms his skin pleasantly. Suguru enjoys the breeze.

He slides away from the window and towards the bathroom, washing his face, brushing his teeth and hair— taking his time to take off his smudged makeup from yesterday— the usual morning routine he dreads before work now feels almost natural.

Now, Suguru stood at his closet, contemplating what to wear. He’s supposed to visit Nanako and Mimiko today, so he should probably make sure he doesn’t look like he’s dying. They’d never stop lecturing him about taking care of himself if he walked in looking like he hasn’t slept in days which— isn’t fully incorrect. Other than last night, he has had a bit of a tougher time falling asleep.

He grabbed a black Lord Huron hoodie— something Haibara got him for his birthday even though Suguru tried very hard not to let anyone know— and some baggy gray pants. Suguru re-did his makeup and put on some jewellery, making an effort to try and hide his eye bags with concealer, though they’re still partially visible.

After eating some delicious pre-packed zaru soba, he headed back to his room.

Sitting on his messy, forgotten desk was the small Terumichi figure from last night. Suguru felt something twist in his gut at the sight— its eyes were uncomfortably accurate to the vision of Terumichi in his mind. He swears it didn’t look that good last night, or maybe he was just too tired to notice.

The only thing he does remember is thinking of Satoru while painting them. How embarrassing. Humans really are slaves to their emotions.

Suguru picked it up, holding it gently in his palm, but before he could make something up in his mind— his phone dinged with a message from Shoko. Some stupid Quiz Planet game notification.

He set the figure down on his small shelf, right next to his other creations.

It fit right in, yet its eyes still stuck out.

Like a pearl amidst a sea of white rocks.

Suguru spent his morning tidying up his room a bit, nothing special, just something to pass time.

Right before heading out to his sisters’ place, Suguru got a message from Nanako— they were celebrating a friend's birthday and forgot to let him know earlier. His gray satchel bag was already adorned by a small, decorative Terumichi tomagochi keychain— something he made in his free time— and he was already dressed and set to leave, so it would be a shame to spend the day cooped up in his room again.

Switching to his earlier chat with Shoko, he sent her a message.

Suguru: Want to go out?

Shoko didn’t take long to answer.

Shoko: Aren’t you going to the girls’ place today?

Suguru: I was supposed to, but they’re busy.

Shoko: Okay
Shoko: Meet you at our usual place then?

Suguru sent a thumbs up, acknowledging her text.

Then he said goodbye to Mizuki and left.

It took him around 45 minutes to get there— Shinjuku Gyoen National Garden, the one place Shoko and Suguru spent their highschool days at repeatedly. Suguru isn’t originally from Tokyo, he’s from some small, isolated village no one pays any mind to. When he and his sisters ended up moving to Tokyo, it was quite a transition.

Shoko was the one who was with him the whole time, she’s also the one who introduced him to the place.

Suguru sat down under a beautiful, yellow tulip tree, the same one they always used to sit under after school. The weather was nice, perfect even. It was warm, the sounds of leaves gently rustling against wind creating a calming atmosphere.

Suguru missed this.

They haven’t gotten to go out much the past few months due to their schedules being off, her night shifts being the same day as his day shifts were horrible for hanging out. In fact, Shoko was trying to get a license to switch from working at the hospital to working at a mortuary— which Suguru is pretty sure she can do without it, but she assured him she could only help out or conduct autopsies without one. Apparently there were other things to do too, but Suguru didn’t ask for her to elaborate.

“Oi, Suguru!” His thoughts were interrupted by someone yelling his name.

Suguru turned around, only to be faced with crystal blue eyes and the most radiant smile he has ever seen.

Satoru stood next to him, looking down at him with that same striking expression. Suguru felt a bit starstruck, he still looked just as charming as the last time he saw him.

Satoru was wearing gray sweatpants, a loose t-shirt with some formulas Suguru didn’t bother to understand and a light blue jacket which reminded him of those cringy varsity jackets.

Fuck, what’s he doing here?

“Satoru,” he smiles, mirroring his use of Suguru’s first name, even though this is only their second time meeting, "I didn't expect to see you here.”

Suguru would have corrected him, but he was far too focused on the way his sweatpants clung to his hips.

Satoru plops down into the grass next to him and Suguru stiffens for a moment before forcefully relaxing.

“Went out for a breath of fresh air,” Satoru replied, taking a deep sigh, he seemed so casual and Suguru couldn’t help but admire it.

“You’re pretty easy to spot,” Satoru teased.

God, his smile was driving Suguru insane. How could someone be so dazzling? Maybe he has already gone insane.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, staring at Suguru expectantly.

“I’m meeting with a friend, but it seems like I came a bit early.” He couldn’t help but glance at Satoru every so often. It was embarrassing, he felt as if he was a teenager with a crush. How stupid.

“I’ll keep you company then!” Satoru scooted closer to stay in the shade, then pulled out his phone.

The hairs on the back of Suguru’s neck raised as he tried his best to stay calm— or at least look calm. Satoru paid no mind to the fact Suguru was sweating bullets.

“Could I have your number?” Satoru asked, “I was rushing last time and I didn’t get to ask.” Satoru rubbed the back of his neck as he handed Suguru his phone, still smiling, still radiant.

“Yeah, no worries.” Suguru took Satoru’s phone, typing his number in quickly, then handed it back to him.

Satoru typed something on his phone, then set it down and stared into the distance. He seemed to like the view. And so did Suguru, but not the same one. Suguru felt the light breeze against his skin, the warmth of the sun— but he wasn’t sure if that was the sun or just how close they were.

“So,” Suguru cleared his throat, “you like Digimon?”

He watched as Satoru’s eyes lit up and that’s when he knew— he fucked up.

Suguru sat there, in the grass, next to a rambling Satoru for around 20 minutes. He was surprised he hadn’t ran out of breath yet, or maybe he did and was running on emergency fumes.

“How’d you know I like Digimon anyway?” Satoru asked, finally straying from his yapping— which Suguru actually listened to, he swears he did.

“Your wallet,” Suguru mentions, “has a Digimon sticker on it.”

Satoru perked up at that, “oh, I totally forgot about that,” he chuckled earnestly, as if it was unheard of for people to remember small details. Well, it technically was with how people's attention spans are degrading.

Suguru couldn’t help but soften at his laugh, almost lost in the moment.

“Is that a tomagochi?” Shit.

Suguru was taken out of his daze by a brick thrown at his face. Metaphorically. Satoru was pointing towards Suguru’s small keychain, noticing its familiar shape— for the first time ever, he regretted bringing any Terumichi crafts with him.

He wasn’t expecting to see Satoru, so he didn’t think of what could happen if he saw Suguru walking around with merch of an imaginary character that looks exactly like him.

“Yeah, but it's dead,” Suguru tried to make it sound less interesting, “I forgot to feed it a while ago.”

Satoru stared at him for a few moments before— “Did you know Digimon were originally supposed to be like tomagochi’s with a preference for male audiences?”

Suguru blinked, taken aback by the sudden fun fact. He couldn't believe he was somehow saved by a freaking Digimon fact.

“I didn't,” Suguru replied, “but I do now.”

He chuckled, clutching the tamagotchi in his hand to keep it out of sight.

His phone suddenly buzzed and Suguru reached into his pocket to see who it was.

Shoko: Who's the twink next to you?

Suguru's face flushed at the text as embarrassment crept over.

Suguru: He's not a twink. His name is Satoru.
Suguru: He was keeping me company while I waited

Suguru could almost feel Shoko’s judgemental gaze on him, even if he couldn't see her.

Shoko: Want me to leave you two alone?
Shoko: Just say I cancelled

Suguru mulled it over, contemplating if it was a good idea, but before he could decide—

Shoko: Yeah I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone

Suguru almost choked on air. When he eventually lifted his gaze back to Satoru, he was already looking at him expectantly.

“Whatcha looking at?” Satoru pressed, leaning over his shoulder. Suguru locked his phone and immediately tossed it into his bag.

“My friend canceled,” Suguru stated, ashamed of himself for being caught off guard, but playing it cool.

Satoru was really close.

Suguru watched Satoru ponder something, trying not to focus too much on the lines of his jaw and the alluring way his snowy hair framed his face.

“Let’s go get ice cream then,” Satoru suggested, “if you're free now, that is,” he smiled.

“I didn’t bring any money—” Suguru started, only to be cut off, “my treat!”

Suguru stared at him as if he just grew another two heads. He couldn’t just let him pay, right? Then he would owe it to him and he’d rather not owe anyone anything. He doesn't want to be a freeloader either.

“No, it’s alright,” Suguru assured him, trying not to seem rude. It’s not like he didn’t want to hang out with Satoru, he just didn’t want him to pay for anything.

“C’mon Suguru, I gotta pay you back for staying overtime yesterday, right?” Satoru smiled, and for once, Suguru wondered if Satoru could read his mind. How annoying, yet sweet of him.

Suguru sighed, finally relenting.

They walked the street with Suguru in the lead— Satoru didn’t seem to know the area well even though he swore he lived nearby. That was solely a Satoru issue though. The streets just “weren’t interesting enough” for him; his words, not Suguru’s.

Suguru glanced back at him every so often, the guy was taking his time walking, basically going at a snail's pace. Though, that wasn’t the reason Suguru kept glancing back. It wasn’t his slow pace, but the fact Suguru just couldn’t take his eyes off of him. God, he was so stupidly gorgeous it was unfair— and he was sure Satoru knew it.

The stroll there was quiet other than Satoru’s random fun facts, yet Suguru couldn’t complain. It felt comfortable, ordinary even. He wouldn’t mind hanging out with Satoru like this more often.

They made it to some nearby ice cream place— Satoru forced him to get two scoops— and after waiting 20 years for Satoru to pick his flavours, they continued walking along the streets, side by side.

As if noticing how peaceful Suguru felt, Satoru found this to be the perfect moment to speak up.

“Can I see the tomagotchi?” he questioned, “I don’t mind if it doesn’t work.”

Suguru hesitated, trying to calculate how badly this could go. He has already lied to him— saying it died— but then again Terumichi looks exactly like him. Would it freak him out? They only met yesterday, for God’s sake.

“Okay,” he started, “just—” fuck, what is wrong with him.

Satoru glanced at him expectantly, his blue eyes staring into Suguru’s soul as he licked his already melting ice cream so it wouldn't drip on him.

“It’s not an actual tomagotchi, it’s just a decoration,” Suguru stated awkwardly.

“Woah, did you make it?” Satoru assumed and immediately hit the mark.

“Yeah,” he inhaled a shaky breath, “it has a character of mine in the center.” Suguru tried to explain it, it's not like it's rare to see a character that looks like someone you know, yet he was still a bit nervous.

Here goes nothing.

Satoru seemed to light up as Suguru handed him the small keychain. He brought it up close to his face, a big bright smile on his face.

“Woah, what show is this from?” Satoru beamed, “we look so similar!”

Suguru rubbed the back of his neck, a bit awkward about showing him his work.

“It's an original character.” He glanced at Satoru as he inspected the fake tomagotchi. He seemed to like it at least.

“His name is Terumichi.”

Satoru seemed to like it a lot.

For the whole walk back to the park, Suguru basically got interrogated about Terumichi— in a positive way, of course.

Now that he thought about it, he felt as if he was being a bit dramatic. There's no reason to think someone is weird for making a character that looks like you before you've even met, in fact it seemed like Satoru took it as a compliment.

Suguru was.. relieved, to say the least.

He has only talked to Satoru for a few hours, yet it already feels like he could spend an eternity with him.

“Do you have any more merch of the guy?” Satoru inquired, clearly having his ego boosted already.

“I do, but I don't usually bring anything other than keychains or pins out of the house,” Suguru replied, keeping his tone light. Satoru was happy, so there's no reason to be stressed over it.

“You could come over if you'd like,” he suggested, even though he wasn't a fan of inviting people over. Only Shoko came by regularly.

“Hell yeah!” Suguru could tell he was excited and he really couldn't phantom how positive he was. “Should we go right now, or?”

“Now?” He sputtered, “ah— another day, I didn't clean my room.”

Suguru did in fact clean his room, but if he was going to have a guest over, then he'd definitely need to clean again and decompress before letting him in.

“That's fine!” Satoru assured him, “I don't mind.” His bright smile was addictive, and certainly very annoying when trying to refuse him. What a pain.

“I do,” Suguru tried to keep it light, not wanting to offend him, “so some other time, alright?”

It's not that he didn't like Satoru, no, it's just that they were going rather quickly. I mean— they were already friends, weren't they? Satoru definitely acted as if they were, even if they met literally yesterday. Suguru likes him, quite a lot actually— he's definitely his type, and he can't ignore how smoothly their conversations flow, but too fast is just too fast.

“Alright,” Satoru hummed. He always seemed so carefree, and Suguru couldn't help but admire it. Socializing is hard, yet this bastard seems way too extroverted.

Maybe he was an elephant in his past life— Suguru happened to have some free time and scrolled through animal fun facts— and it turned out elephants are very sociable.

After finally settling down under a cherry blossom tree in the same park Satoru had snuck up on him, they continued talking for some time.

Satoru rambled on even as they say in the grass, something about the creator of Digimon actually being three people or how the Finish dub of “Digimon Adventures” was so bad the company responsible for it disbanded.

Suguru found it amusing— he was always more of a Pokemon fan, but the way Satoru talked about Digimon just made it so much more interesting.

By the time they realized how long they had stayed, it was already sunset. Suguru shouldn’t stay, he shouldn’t get attached, but he can’t do that with him. He can’t help but want to stay, to converse with Satoru and listen to him talk. The irony of it: the action being so comforting it makes him uneasy.

Thankfully, Satoru was the one who initiated the goodbye's, so Suguru didn't need to overthink it.

His walk back home felt tranquil.

Not even halfway home, the night sky showed itself, the moon lighting the streets he walked through. It wasn't quiet, no, but Suguru had no problems dissociating enough to ignore the noise.

For once, his mind was the quiet place instead of the cafe's soundproof rooms. (Suguru loves those walls, it might be one of the only reasons he didn't quit working at the place.)

Suguru felt at peace.

He didn't like it.

It's been so long since he's met someone new and genuinely enjoyed hanging out with them. Even longer since his last spontaneous hangout. His only friends have been Shoko and Manami— who's on her work trip— for years now.

Not counting the twins and his chatty coworker, of course.

If anything, it's not Suguru who scares away the people he meets— quite the opposite actually. People are huge fans of him, he's always had that charm about him.

But he doesn't see the appeal in others. Why should he invest his time in people who he doesn't need anything from? (With the sole exception of Ieiri Shoko, of course)

So why is he so comfortable with Gojo?

Sure, Satoru is aesthetically pleasing, but that should be it. He's one of those people who runs in 5 minutes before closing, someone who sneaks up on people on purpose— the type who consumes far too much sugar.

So why does Suguru like talking to him?

It pisses him off. Maybe it's because he looks like Terumichi. That must be it.

Even when Suguru's emotions explode with him by his side.

Suguru makes his way home just like every day; he sets his jacket aside, takes his shoes off and changes into something comfortable.

His apartment looks the same as he left it, a mess of papers, materials and dusty shelves he hasn't had the will to clean.

He eats something store-bought for dinner, washes off his makeup and showers to cool down.

So why does he still feel weird?

As he glances at his Terumichi art, his figures and crafts, he can't help but remember the same pair of cerulean blue eyes. They almost seem moonstone blue in the light, Suguru comments to himself, just like Michi's.

He drives away the urge to draw him, focusing on his laptop sitting on the dark wood of his desk, then on the soft ding of his phone.

Satoru: Did you make it home safe ??? :3

Suguru involuntarily smiled as he replied and set his phone aside once more. He should probably write before his schedule becomes a mess again.

Suguru spent a few hours writing, trying not to indulge himself in adding bits of his own life into the story. It wouldn't fit— and it would get too depressing.

Even after writing more than he had for months, his mind still strayed from the words in front of him.

Satoru fucking Gojo was on his mind. Suguru couldn't shake him off no matter how hard he tried.

Last time he got this attached, it didn’t end well.

Why? Because Suguru Getou learned from a very young age that the world is full of ups and downs— and just like everything bad will pass, so will the good.

He doesn't want Satoru to become a bittersweet memory.

Once again, staring at the glowing laptop screen in front of him, Suguru finally puts it away. He closes it, dumps it on his work table and lays in his bed, pulling the covers over his head in frustration.

Suguru: Are you awake?

Suguru's days passed in a blur, the usual somber of his evening shifts and his stupid doodles of Terumichi— which were actually self-indulgent Satoru’s, that he delusionally claims are not— didn't change much.

But what did change— were his breaks and free time.

Satoru texted him that night to make sure he made it home safe and Suguru reached out to text him late in the night as well. Now that Satoru had his number, he was sure he would be hearing from him a lot and he wasn’t complaining.

Satoru texted him everyday; sometimes he asked for his opinion, recommended a movie or videogame, but most of the time he sent photos of him doing everyday things.

Suguru enjoyed talking with him, but the more he did the more he had to delude himself into claiming he doesn't like Satoru.

For weeks they talked, bantered and exchanged GIF’s— it almost reminded him of when Mimiko had a crush back in middle school. They talked 24/7 and almost spent all their time together, he remembers her getting all flustered when he asked her about it.

But Suguru didn't like thinking of it that way. He wasn't in love with Satoru. No way.

Love is meant to be special and meaningful.

He couldn't have met that love in a cafe 5 minutes before closing. In fact, he was still pissed about that.

Somehow, Suguru got the courage to hang out with him again.

It wasn't his idea, Satoru was the one who recommended it, but he felt it was quite a jump in their relationship.

Satoru was alone for the week because his little brother— Megumi, who he was taking care of for the time being— went to sleep at a friend's house.

This gave the guy an idea— that idea being for Suguru to come over to watch movies on his “big screen tv”. Suguru was quite sure it was a literal cinema by how Satoru described it, though.

He’s supposed to go this Saturday— which is tomorrow, already— yet he can't help but stress about it.

What should he wear? Should he bring anything with him? He's not sure. It might be polite to bring some sort of gift. Suguru doesn't know what he could bring, though.

From what he has understood, Satoru is the heir of some big shot engineering company. Satoru isn't a huge fan of the idea, but he did what his parents wanted him to and he will probably inherit it in a few years.

He could get home something sweet. Satoru does have a sweet tooth, maybe he would enjoy something like dango? Now that he thinks about it, Satoru did mention liking kikufuku mochi once.

He should drop by the store after his shift.

After closing up the cafe and hiding the keys for the morning employees, Suguru headed over to the closest convenience store.

His eyes burned from the white walls and harsh lights as he entered through the automatic doors, being far too used to the cafe’s soft, warm lighting. God, that place was a miracle. Lines of shelves filled the space, colorful packaging and cute advertisements brightening the white space even more with color.

He bought three packs of kikufuku mochi, some onigiri and natto packs for his breakfast tomorrow, then some sprite.

It wasn't much, but he didn't want to overdo it either. If Satoru really did like the kikufuku, then it’ll be fine.

Now, standing out in the coldness of the night, Suguru paused. Was Satoru even into men? And why did Suguru care if he was?

He’s been thinking of him for weeks, stupidly trying to convince himself he wasn’t attracted to him. At this point, it was just denial.

Did he even deserve to like Satoru? The Satoru who enjoyed his life to its fullest, took an interest in even the most boring themes and tried his best in the hardest situations. Did he— someone who never had a goal to chase, someone who lived days drowning in his own made-up misery— deserve someone like Satoru? No matter how much people looked up to him, Suguru would never see himself in the same light.

And if Suguru really did like him, would that even matter as long as Satoru wasn’t even interested in guys in that way? Maybe he should have figured that out first, or better yet— not have gotten attached at all.

A call brought Suguru out of his dazed thoughts, the sound ringing through the street he stood in. The caller ID told him it was Shoko, so without a second thought, he picked it up.

“Shoko?” He answered, his voice slightly strained.

“Yo, you free right now?” Shoko huffed, Suguru could almost smell the cigarette smoke from the other side of the call.

“Yeah, I just finished my shift,” he murmured, finally starting to move from the spot he stood for the last three minutes— thinking over his life choices.

“Cool,” she sighed, “mind if I come over?”

“I'm not home yet, do you have another late night shift?” Suguru questioned, quickening his pace to get home quicker.

“Yeah, I have to cover a colleague's shift, but I’d rather not drive all the way home.” Shoko lived quite far away from the hospital she worked at, so she frequently stayed over at his place when she got handed extra unannounced shifts.

“Assholes,” Suguru groaned, “I’ll meet you there then.” He never minded her staying over, she often filled in the quiet moments of his days.

Suguru arrived at his apartment door to see Shoko waiting for him, the smoke from her cigarette filling up the hallway made him grimace. He couldn’t say anything, he used to smoke too, but a stress-only smoker like him could never really get used to the smell.

They exchanged quiet hello’s.

Suguru unlocked the door, opening it to let Shoko in first, then followed shortly after, taking his shoes and jacket off.

“Do you want some coffee?” he proposed, already making his way towards the kitchen.

“Duh,” Shoko huffed, immediately plopping down onto his couch, “have you eaten dinner, yet?”

Suguru glanced at her, only then noticing the paper bag with takeout she brought in. “I haven’t.” He set the water to boil.

Focusing on the quiet hum of the water heating up, he heard Shoko shuffling on the couch— probably taking out whatever she bought.

“When’s your shift?” he questioned, glancing at the convenience store bag now sitting on his counter.

“In 4 hours,” she hummed, “I’ll try getting some sleep after this.”

He nodded, even if she wasn’t looking at him.

After setting the freshly made coffee on his living room table, he sat next to her, tossing his phone to the side. He glanced at her, then at the extra order which was clearly for him.

“You didn't have to, you know,” he sighed, picking up a piece of sushi with his chopsticks. He would've preferred if she didn’t waste her money on him, but having an actual dinner once in a while is nice.

“Whatever.” She took one minor peak towards his phone and immediately locked into interrogation mode. “So, how’d it go with the twink?”

Suguru flustered at the mention, once again remembering how she cancelled their plans to give the lovebirds some time alone. How cringe.

“He isn't a twink, and he’s just a friend,” Suguru choked out in embarrassment. If anything, Suguru would say he's the opposite. Even though Satoru's face is pretty, he's taller than him and he'd swear he saw some muscles under those hoodie sleeves.

“Sure, and the sky isn’t blue.” She gave him that knowing look, the one she would give him when he got in trouble while in college then tried to pretend nothing happened.

They’ve been friends for so long and Suguru had to admit: she could read him like a book.

“..We went and got ice cream,” Suguru confessed.

“Hah! I fucking knew it!” Shoko’s mood seemed to have brightened a bit, she seemed tired until now, but all of a sudden she’s much more interested in whatever he’s saying.

“It’s— It’s not like that,” he stated, yet it almost seemed like he was trying to convince himself more than her, “I’m not even sure if he’s into men—”

“—Well, are you?” Suguru paused at that, taken aback for maybe the third time today— the first one being when Haibara made him coffee and left it waiting for him in the staff lounge.

It took him a moment to shape his sentences, unsure about it himself.

“I’m.. not sure,” he said quietly, having trouble figuring out if what he has with Satoru really is a crush, or if his feelings are going rampant because he’s never met someone as infuriating yet gorgeous as him.

“Then you do,” Shoko said simply, “If you didn’t like him, why would you even be so unsure about it?”

Suguru frowned at that. There’s many things to be unsure about in the world and he’s always been someone who questions everything— so why would this be different?

“Look at it this way,” she tried to explain it better, “when you don’t like a drink— even if the packaging is pretty— once you know you don’t enjoy drinking it, you wouldn’t try it another ten times to make sure it’s disgusting.”

It was a bit of an exaggeration, he knew he didn’t hate Satoru— he just couldn’t tell if what he felt was enjoyment in conversing with him, or conversing with him for the enjoyment of being close to him.

“You don't question your other friendships, do you?” She poked and prodded, both him and the sushi she picked up with her chopsticks.

“Well, no,” he stated, “but it’s not like I spend time with many people.”

“Okay, yeah, I forget you’re a loser—” before Suguru could protest, she continued, “—just joking, anyway, you wouldn’t question liking me or Manami like that, right?”

Suguru cringed at that. “No, you’re like my sister and Manami and I aren’t that close.”

“See?” Shoko prodded again, “You know you don’t see us that way, but you question it when you talk to the twink.”

“Satoru,” Suguru said in annoyance, “his name is Satoru.”

“Whatever— Satoru, twink, same thing.” Shoko didn’t seem interested in moving on from the nickname. “Are you going to ask him out or not?”

Suguru frowned, clearly still troubling to figure things out.

“He invited me to come over to his place tomorrow,” he said quietly, still embarrassed about the whole thing.

“Are you going?” she questioned, a sly grin on her face.

“Well, yeah— but I'm still nervous.” Suguru took another bite of his sushi. They got so caught up in their talk, he almost forgot about it.

“I doubt he's a serial killer,” Shoko teased, nudging his shoulder.

“Yeah no, he's the heir of some big shot company,” Suguru sighed, slightly annoyed at the fact even. Maybe if he were some normal guy on the street, he would be less nervous.

“Oh, nerdy and rich? He's literally your type,” Shoko whistled low, taking a sip of her coffee right after.

“I don't have a type,” he corrected her, yet he himself knew that was a lie. He knew his type the moment he made Terumichi, and he knew his type the moment he met Satoru.

“Whatever you say,” she yawned somehow, even after drinking a whole mug of straight espresso, “I'm going to sleep.”

While sitting on his bed— after making sure Shoko had everything she needed— scrolling through his book’s latest reviews, Suguru's phone dings with a message.

Satoru: Hey, we’re still up for tomorrow, right?
(⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠)

Suguru pauses for a bit, not expecting him to be up this late. He seemed like the type to go to bed at 9 PM, to be honest.

Suguru: Of course.

Satoru: No change of plans to hang out w your gf or smth haha (*⁠´⁠ ∀⁠｀⁠)√ ”

That took him off guard. Was Satoru trying to figure out if he's single? It was pretty obvious, but he didn't want to assume anything.

Suguru: No, I’m not dating anyone currently.

Satoru: Good
Satiru: So see you at 4? (⁠ʃ⁠ƪ⁠＾⁠3⁠＾⁠）

Suguru: I'll be there.

Suguru felt a small fluttering feeling in his chest and before he knew it, a soft heat traveled up his neck and settled across his face. For some reason, just the thought of Satoru thinking about him— especially in that context— makes him flustered.

With this embarrassing feeling swirling around, Suguru sets his phone aside and covers his face with his hands. He feels like a love interest in some stupid lovey-dovey romance book— especially while sitting like this, on his bed, in a room lit with such a cozy, comforting light.

He turns his lamp off, sliding his phone onto his nightstand and curls up in his bed, trying not to think about him any more tonight. His face still feels warm, his heart beating quicker than usual. Maybe he was having a heart attack or something.

He will see Satoru tomorrow, so hopefully, he’ll survive till then.

His alarm sounded— and for once, he was already awake. Suguru couldn’t sleep, at least not after the first three times he woke up in the middle of the night. It was a usual occurrence, but he normally got it under control after a while.

Since he couldn’t sleep, he was already up and awake. Suguru wasn’t really hungry in the mornings, he ate when he had to, and today he really didn’t want to. He made himself some coffee (espresso again, which Shoko got him hooked on during high school) and tried to brace himself for whatever was waiting for him next.

Which was his closet.

He was worried about making a good impression, which also meant looking at least slightly presentable.

Fuck.

He managed to lay out a few flattering outfits, not wanting to be too extra or seem desperate— while also being comfortable. He wasn’t very interested in fashion, but he could appreciate a good outfit every once in a while.

After a whole hour of struggling, Suguru settled on a black oversized vintage graphic shirt with dark purple roses along with a white turtleneck shirt underneath, baggy ripped jeans which he had to spice up with black fishnets, black leather ankle boots and a few rings/necklaces to fidget with. He topped it off with purple eyeshadow and his iconic half-up half-down bun.

Staring into his mirror Suguru couldn’t help but admire his work. He didn’t even care if Satoru didn’t like it at this point— he was too hot to care.

Now satisfied with the look, Suguru arranged the gift he bought yesterday into a small decorative bag; the one he found in his stack of decorative bags that were never reused after he got them due to not having anyone to give them to.

After doing everything planned for the day, he realized he didn’t actually know what to do while he waited. He still had around 6.5 hours until he had to leave and he feels kind of stupid for getting up so early. Maybe he should've struggled a bit more with sleep before getting up.

Suguru played a few rounds of Quiz Planet with Shoko (again, because she was obsessed with it), then drew a few sketches to pass the time. Then, while binge watching some random show he found, he manages to entertain himself for a few more hours— dreading both leaving and waiting at the same time— then finally gives up and leaves for his station early, almost disconnecting from his surroundings because of the music playing in his headphones.

Suguru isn’t ready for this, yet even with all the nerves radiating off of him he can’t help but feel giddy as well. If things go right, maybe he’ll finally be able to accept that he might like Satoru.

Satoru said to wait for him near the cafe he works at, ironically the place they first met. Maybe he could get a few more cups of coffee inside his system before he actually has to socialize— even if it’s with Satoru.

He’s not sure how they’re going to get to Satoru’s place, but he’s far too distracted by the music in his headphones and the millions of scenarios running through his head to care.

As Suguru stared out the window of the train he caught, he wondered how his sisters were doing. Were they eating well? Studying enough? Hopefully they weren’t having troubles with guys as he was— and if they were, he could always just beat them up. Perks of having an older brother, I guess.

He hasn’t seen them for a while since they were busy last time he planned to visit.

He can’t help but worry, even though he knows they’re strong and can take care of themselves. He was the one who taught them to stand up for themselves and work hard, after all.

Stepping out onto the street, Suguru feels the soft wind against his face. It feels nice. It reminds him of his beautiful hometown, it reminds him of that day in the park he spent with Satoru. He quickly sends the guy mentioned a message, letting him know he made it to the decided meeting place.

Tokyo streets are always busy, yet it appears almost busier than usual. Hopefully Satoru’s place isn’t in one of the more bustling areas, even though all of them seem just as loud.

Suguru glances around, noting the usual stores and restaurants he sees on his way to work, the gift bag being held loosely in his hand. Hopefully he’s not overstepping with the gift, but Satoru sure does have a sweet tooth, so it should be fine— right?

Not even a few moments of dissociated staring later, Suguru gets pulled into a tight hug from behind, startling him. He almost elbows his surprise assailant before he turns around and sees bright blue eyes staring at him.

“Suguru!”

“Ah, Satoru.” The affectionate gesture just slips out.

“Did I keep you waiting for long?” Satoru doesn’t loosen his grip and instead leans into him.

“No, I just sent you a message that I arrived, actually,” Suguru replied casually, trying to ignore the flutter in his stomach.

“Let’s go then!”

The walk to Satoru’s place was much shorter than Suguru expected. It was a pretty nice street, the building seemed quite modern and expensive. He couldn’t tell if it was one of those fancy apartment complexes or if Satoru just owned the whole building. Either way, he was more focused on the view in front of him— the beautiful tall man walking into the elevator like he owned the place.

For a moment, Suguru felt out of place. Maybe he should’ve dressed up more or brought something better as a gift. Satoru was nice enough to invite him, after all— but then he remembered exactly that. Satoru invited him, if he wanted a gift he would’ve said so, and if he thought Suguru would be an eye sore against the marble floors or high ceilings, he would have said so.

Hopefully.

Satoru led him through the halls and towards what he called his living room— a giant flat screen tv sat on the wall, a comfortable looking grey couch right in front of it, along with a few posters on the wall that didn't seem to have windows. The walls that did have windows, also had blinds.

True movie theater style, but modern nerd version.

Satoru basically ushered him to sit down, before happily hopping over to the snack bar to the right of him. Suguru awkwardly sits there with the gift bag in his lap, already thinking of ways he could possibly embarrass himself.

“What kind of snacks do you like?” Satoru asks, still rummaging through the absurd amount of chips and sweets.

“I uh, actually brought some,” Suguru mentions, “for you.”

Satoru perks up at that, glancing behind him at Suguru— then appears right at his side before he can even blink.

“Aw, Suguru, you got me something?” Satoru almost purrs, clearly appreciating the gesture, yet amused.

He hands him the small gift bag, glancing away as a soft flush creeps up his neck to his ears, “I remembered you said you liked these, so..” Suguru reasoned.

Satoru beamed at that, literally lighting up at the sight of the kikufuku mochi.

“You even got my favorite flavour??” Satoru was over the moon. Seems like that small gift had won him over, and Suguru was worried for nothing.

Now, watching him open a pack right then and there just to chomp it down greedily, Suguru took him in once more.

His soft white locks seemed a bit messy, but still looked so effortlessly beautiful— yet even his otherworldly crystal eyes were being overpowered by the sweetness of his smile.

In fact, he could see it very well this close up. He could smell some sort of expensive perfume from him, see every detail in his angel-white lashes and see the sparkle in his eyes as he ate.

When Satoru first snuck up on him, Suguru was a bit too startled to notice, but he seemed to be a bit more dressed up today— even though it was supposed to be just a movie night.

A gentle pastel brown vest was layered on top of his collar shirt (Suguru wondered if he felt hot in it), along with a small pin on the right side. Suguru didn't recognize the character, but he stashed that thought for later to ask him about it.

He's sure Satoru would appreciate it.

“Ahem— so, what snacks did you say you liked?” Satoru mumbled with his mouth half full, snapping Suguru out of his thoughts.

“Do you have anything spicy?”

Satoru and Suguru, (not) much to Suguru's surprise, spent the day watching Star Trek. He wasn't really on that side of the internet, but Suguru watched a few of the more popular films before.

He didn't really get the hype, though it was worth seeing Satoru so excited.

Mid-movie, Suguru offered to go refill the snack tray, only to turn around and see Satoru leaning against the wall right next to him— faces inches apart, drinking an orange flavoured capri-sun. It would be a lie if he said he didn't almost scream.

“Want one?” Satoru offered, completely oblivious to how flustered he just made Suguru. Or perhaps it was on purpose. He’d never know.

Before they knew it, it was already dark out, and it was already past the time Suguru thought he would be home by.

He was getting a bit sleepy, not used to the low amount of coffee he drank today and the low amount of sleep he had the day before, the only thing keeping him awake was the flush climbing up his face at the accidental touches between them.

Somehow, Suguru's arm ended up wrapped around Satoru's shoulder, and the night just seemed so peaceful.

And just as both of them were so engrossed in a beautiful view— Satoru's favorite scenes and Suguru's new found favorite person— they failed to notice the sound of rain cascading down the windows and hitting the roof (being that Satoru's room was at the top of the building).

Packing up and getting ready to leave, Satoru followed him around the whole time, yapping away at some interesting facts about the last movie they watched. He wasn't sure which movie it was, since it seemed like they watched hundreds.

“So.. you'll text me when you get home, right?” Satoru said, standing next to him as Suguru put on his boots.

“Of course.” Suguru smiled. The whole night felt as if time had stopped just for him to glance at Satoru’s giddy face as he mentioned things about the movie they were watching— Suguru couldn’t help but completely forget about the movie the moment he saw the soft, genuinely happy smile on Satoru's face.

They made it all the way down, only to be met with a strong storm. It seemed almost as if it would rain all night. Before Suguru could call a cab, Satoru interrupted the silence by clearing his throat.

“It's raining,” he stated the obvious, then added, “you could stay the night if you'd like.”

Satoru, who seemed so confident and charming all the time, seemed almost flustered now. He really seemed like he wanted Suguru to stay over.

“Since, y'know, I'm alone and it's raining— and you don't have an umbrella and stuff,” he chatted, seemingly more nervous the more he talked.

“That would be nice.”

“It would?” Satoru paused. “I mean— of course it would.”

He seemed to light up at that, and Suguru certainly wasn't complaining.

They ended up ordering pizza for the night and watching one more movie— which Satoru insisted was very important to the series. Suguru sat on the couch, once again covered in a blanket, this time with Satoru leaning on his shoulder— both of them already half asleep.

“What do you want for breakfast tomorrow..?” Satoru murmured, voice half muffled by him leaning into Suguru’s shirt.

Suguru blinked, not even realizing Satoru was awake until now. “It’s alright, I'll be out of your hair before breakfast,” he chuckled.

Satoru frowned at that. “Can’t you stay for a bit longer?”

“...Sure,” Suguru sighed, unable to say no when he was making that face,

Suguru woke up to the warm smell of breakfast. There was no light peeking through the curtains yet, but the kitchen light was on.

What time did this guy usually get up if it was still dark outside…?

He got up, groaning softly— feeling as if he finally caught up to the hours of lost sleep he had picked up over the years. A damn comfortable couch indeed.

Glancing up towards the lit up kitchen, Suguru noticed Satoru standing at the counter, working on something. Probably whatever smelled so good.

Feeling a bit confident, Suguru walked up to him and placed his hands on Satoru’s waist. “Good morning,” he murmured, “What are you making?”

Satoru startled, flustered, and almost knocked over whatever he was making.

“Miso soup with egg and steamed rice,” he explained.

Suguru leaned in closer over his shoulder, “Smells nice.”

After finishing breakfast, conversation flowed smoothly. Afterwards, both of them got ready to go out— since Satoru insisted he would walk him home.

Suguru was the one waiting for Satoru to put his shoes on this time, and after that short stop, they headed out.

As they walked toward Suguru's apartment, the sun had begun to wake up— he felt a chilly morning breeze nip at his neck, yet it was almost a comforting feeling.

The sunrise seemed beautiful today, almost heavenly as the gradient of colors spanned against the sky, only interrupted by flocks of soft clouds.

Without even noticing, Suguru and Satoru seemed to drift towards the park they met at once before— and they had to admit, the view was even more marvelous here.

Even though the light bouncing off high city buildings tended to be pretty, the view of apricot and fiery orange skies mixing with the gentle pinks of the cherry trees were breathtaking.

Unlike Suguru, who seemed to be enjoying the fleeting moment of the sun waking and the gentle wind surrounding them— Satoru seemed to be more focused on the heavenly shade of Suguru's eyes.

As the sun rose towards the sky, bringing its colors along and keeping them tucked away for another time, Suguru glanced back at Satoru— meeting his eyes.

“Suguru,” Satoru started, yet seemed to be hesitating slightly. It seemed like the confident guy he enjoyed teasing was only ever this nervous around him.

“Will you…” he glanced to the side, then finally built up the courage to look back into his eyes, “...do me the honor of letting me be your boyfriend?”

Satoru's cheeks were a pastel, gentle pink— his words honest, as if him saying yes would be the greatest thing that happened to him.

And both felt that way.

Suguru stared at him for a moment, in disbelief that Satoru would ask him that question.

After briefly being frozen in place, Suguru's ears redden and he looks away in embarrassment, only to mutter, “of course.”

“I'd love to.”

Satoru's cheeks flush once again, the redness creeping up his neck. He leans in, hopeful— just in time for Suguru to lean in as well and kiss him.

Satoru's hand slides around his waist, gently pulling him closer as he presses his lips against Suguru's.

Pulling apart, both of them were out of breath— yet all Suguru could think of was that maybe..

He had found someone who would love him as much as he loved creating, if not more. Someone real, someone physical, who cared for him even if he embarrassed himself. Even if he was unsure, insecure and nervous about everything— Satoru would be there for, and Suguru would do the same for him.