Chapter Text
Satoru Gojo had a system for university.
It wasn’t a particularly complicated system, but it was precise.
Wake up at 7:10.
Shower.
Coffee.
Eat something sweet because breakfast food was generally boring.
Leave the dorm by 8:05.
Take the same route across campus.
Stop at the science building before his first lecture and spend twenty minutes reviewing whatever he had been working on the night before.
It worked.
There were enough unpredictable things about university already without adding unnecessary variables.
People were unpredictable.
Professors changed assignments.
The cafeteria occasionally ran out of the good pastries.
The elevators sometimes stopped on every floor despite nobody pressing the buttons.
Satoru hated that one.
He had been at university for almost a month, which was long enough to establish his routines and short enough that he still occasionally got lost when buildings changed names depending on which entrance he used.
He was halfway across campus when the rain started.
Satoru stopped beneath the overhang outside the science building.
He looked up.
Gray sky.
Rain.
He checked his phone.
8:14.
He looked at the sky again.
“This wasn’t scheduled.”
The girl beside him snorted.
Satoru glanced over.
Shoko Ieiri was leaning against one of the brick pillars, coffee in hand, looking as though she’d been awake for approximately three hours longer than she wanted to be.
“It is weather,” she said.
“I know.”
“You sound offended.”
“I dressed for the forecast.”
“You dressed like that?”
Satoru looked down at himself.
Black jeans.
White sweater.
Light jacket.
“It said thirty percent.”
“And?”
“Thirty percent is not enough to justify an umbrella.”
Shoko took another drink.
“Apparently the rain disagrees.”
Satoru sighed.
He could already feel the dampness collecting around the cuffs of his sleeves.
He hated wet clothing.
Not mildly disliked.
Hated.
He tugged his sleeves down over his hands.
Shoko noticed.
She didn’t comment.
“You’re going to be late,” she said.
“I’m not.”
“You have class in six minutes.”
“Seven.”
“Your building is across campus.”
“I walk fast.”
“You complain when you walk fast.”
“I complain when other people walk slowly.”
“Naturally.”
Satoru started down the steps.
Shoko called after him.
“Don’t trip.”
“I don’t trip.”
“You tripped yesterday.”
“That was an uneven sidewalk.”
“Sure.”
Satoru turned around while walking backward.
“It was.”
Then he turned again.
And walked directly into someone.
His shoulder collided with another person’s chest.
The impact wasn’t particularly hard, but Satoru stumbled.
A hand caught his upper arm.
“Whoa.”
Satoru froze.
The stranger released him almost immediately.
“Sorry.”
Satoru looked up.
Dark hair.
Long, tied loosely at the back.
Brown eyes.
A black umbrella tucked beneath one arm.
A canvas bag hanging from his shoulder.
He looked vaguely familiar.
Not familiar enough for Satoru to know his name.
Just familiar enough that Satoru was certain he’d seen him somewhere.
The stranger looked him over.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes.”
A pause.
“You?”
The stranger blinked.
“I’m fine.”
Satoru looked at the hand that had caught him.
Then at the stranger.
“Good.”
The stranger smiled slightly.
“You always walk backward?”
“No.”
“You just did.”
“I was talking to someone.”
“Fair.”
Shoko walked down the steps behind Satoru.
She looked between them.
Then at Satoru.
Then at the stranger.
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
She nodded.
“Good.”
The stranger shifted his umbrella.
“I should probably let you get to class.”
Satoru glanced toward the science building.
Then back at him.
“You’re going the wrong way.”
The stranger looked behind himself.
Then toward the building he’d been walking toward.
“Am I?”
“That’s the humanities building.”
He looked mildly embarrassed.
“Right.”
Satoru pointed across campus.
“Child development building is that direction.”
The stranger raised an eyebrow.
“How do you know what I’m studying?”
“You have a textbook.”
He looked down at the book sticking halfway out of his bag.
The title was visible.
Developmentally Appropriate Practice in Early Childhood Programs.
He laughed softly.
“Right.”
Satoru smiled.
“You’re welcome.”
“I didn’t say thank you.”
“You were going to.”
The stranger stared at him for a moment.
Then laughed again.
“I’m Suguru.”
“Satoru.”
“I know.”
Satoru paused.
“You know me?”
“You’re hard to miss.”
Shoko made a small sound behind him.
Satoru turned.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Her expression said it was absolutely something.
Suguru adjusted the strap of his bag.
“I’ll see you around.”
“Probably.”
Suguru started walking.
Satoru watched him disappear into the rain.
Then he looked at Shoko.
“Who was that?”
“You just introduced yourselves.”
“I mean who is he?”
“How would I know?”
“You know everyone.”
“I don’t.”
“You do.”
Shoko rolled her eyes.
“He’s in Early Childhood Studies.”
Satoru nodded.
“That’s what I thought.”
“Congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
“You know that’s not what I meant.”
Satoru grinned.
Then he ran toward his lecture.
Suguru Geto did not expect to remember Satoru Gojo.
He had seen plenty of unusual people during his first month at university.
There was a girl in one of his classes who wore a different pair of brightly colored socks every day.
A guy in the student center who seemed to survive entirely on energy drinks.
A professor who carried the same chipped mug to every lecture.
University was full of strange people.
Satoru Gojo was simply another one.
Except Suguru remembered him.
He remembered the way Satoru had looked at him when he’d asked if he was okay.
Not suspicious.
Not embarrassed.
Just genuinely waiting for an answer.
He remembered how quickly Satoru had noticed the textbook in his bag.
He remembered the confidence with which he’d told Suguru he’d been going the wrong way.
And, irritatingly, he remembered the smile.
Suguru shook the thought away.
He had other things to think about.
His Early Childhood Studies seminar started at nine.
He arrived with five minutes to spare.
Shoko was already there.
She looked up when Suguru sat down.
“You met Gojo.”
Suguru paused.
“How do you know?”
“Because he texted me.”
Suguru stared.
“He has your number?”
“Unfortunately.”
“What did he say?”
Shoko pulled out her phone.
“‘Who is the guy with the long hair?’”
Suguru laughed.
“That’s rude.”
“He also asked if you’re always carrying a textbook.”
“That’s less rude.”
“Then he sent a picture of your book.”
Suguru looked at her.
“Why?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
She put her phone away.
“He seems interested.”
“In what?”
Shoko’s expression remained completely blank.
“You.”
Suguru stared.
“He’s known me for thirty seconds.”
“That’s never stopped Gojo from becoming interested in something.”
Suguru smiled despite himself.
“He is a little strange.”
“Very.”
“He’s your friend?”
“Unfortunately.”
The professor walked in.
Their conversation ended.
But Suguru found himself thinking about Satoru again.
Three days later, they met again.
This time, it wasn’t raining.
Satoru was sitting on the floor outside the student union.
His notebook was open.
There were several pages of equations.
His headphones rested around his neck, not covering his ears.
Suguru noticed him because Satoru was sitting in the middle of a crowded hallway as though the chaos around him didn’t exist.
People stepped around him.
He didn’t look up.
Suguru slowed.
Then stopped.
“Hey.”
Satoru’s head lifted immediately.
His expression changed when he recognized Suguru.
“Oh.”
Suguru smiled.
“Hi.”
Satoru looked down at his notebook.
Then back up.
“What are you doing here?”
“Studying.”
“In the hallway?”
“The library was full.”
Satoru considered this.
“That’s unfortunate.”
“Very.”
Satoru shifted his backpack aside.
“You can sit.”
Suguru looked at the floor.
“You don’t mind?”
“No.”
Suguru sat.
For several seconds, Satoru didn’t say anything.
He returned to his notebook.
Suguru glanced down.
The page was filled with equations.
“Is that homework?”
“No.”
“Then what is it?”
“Something I’m trying to figure out.”
“Should I ask?”
“No.”
Suguru laughed.
“Okay.”
A minute passed.
Then Satoru spoke.
“You’re studying early childhood.”
“Yeah.”
“What year?”
“First.”
“Do you like it?”
Suguru’s expression softened.
“I do.”
“What made you choose it?”
Suguru thought.
“I’ve always liked working with kids.”
“Why?”
“They’re honest.”
Satoru nodded.
“Adults lie.”
“Sometimes.”
“Kids do too.”
Suguru laughed.
“They’re just worse at it.”
Satoru smiled.
“Exactly.”
Suguru looked at the equations again.
“Why physics?”
Satoru’s pen stopped.
His eyes moved over the page.
“I like knowing how things work.”
There was something unexpectedly sincere in the answer.
Suguru leaned back against the wall.
“That makes sense.”
Satoru glanced at him.
“You don’t think it’s boring?”
“No.”
“Most people do.”
“I don’t.”
“Good.”
Satoru returned to his notebook.
His foot began tapping lightly against the floor.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Then stopped.
Suguru didn’t mention it.
After a few minutes, Satoru closed the notebook.
“Do you want coffee?”
Suguru blinked.
“Right now?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I want coffee.”
“That’s fair.”
Satoru stood.
Suguru followed.
They walked toward the café.
It was crowded.
Satoru stopped at the entrance.
Suguru noticed.
“Too busy?”
Satoru stared inside.
There were too many people.
Too much noise.
Someone was dragging a chair across the floor.
The espresso machine hissed.
Music played from a speaker near the counter.
Satoru’s fingers flexed once at his side.
Then he looked toward the quieter café across the courtyard.
“There’s another one.”
Suguru nodded.
“Let’s go there.”
Satoru looked at him.
“You don’t mind?”
“No.”
They walked away.
Neither commented on it.
The second café was almost empty.
Satoru ordered hot chocolate.
Suguru stared at him.
“You don’t drink coffee?”
“I do.”
“Then why hot chocolate?”
“I wanted hot chocolate.”
“Fair.”
They found a table beside the window.
Satoru sat with his back to the wall.
Suguru sat opposite him.
They talked for almost two hours.
Not about anything particularly important.
Suguru complained about an assignment involving observation reports.
Satoru complained about a professor who had spent forty minutes explaining something that could have been explained in five.
Suguru told him about his upcoming placement at an early learning center.
Satoru asked an alarming number of questions.
“What age?”
“Three to five.”
“How many kids?”
“Depends on the room.”
“How many adults?”
“Usually two or three.”
“How do you keep them from running away?”
Suguru stared.
“They’re not prisoners.”
“I know.”
“You asked.”
“I was curious.”
Suguru laughed.
Satoru smiled.
Then he noticed Suguru’s hand had tightened around his cup.
The change was small.
Barely noticeable.
Suguru’s eyes had gone somewhere distant.
His shoulders were rigid.
Satoru didn’t know why.
He didn’t ask.
Instead, he pushed the small plate of cookies toward him.
“You should eat.”
Suguru blinked.
“What?”
“You haven’t touched them.”
Suguru looked at the cookies.
Then at Satoru.
A smile slowly appeared.
“You notice everything, don’t you?”
Satoru shrugged.
“Mostly.”
Suguru picked up a cookie.
“Thanks.”
Satoru nodded.
And something quiet settled between them.
Not love.
Not yet.
Something simpler.
Something that would become the foundation for it.
Trust.
That evening, Suguru walked back to his dorm alone.
The campus lights glowed against the darkening sky.
His phone buzzed.
A message.
Satoru: you forgot your pen
Suguru looked down.
He didn’t have it.
Suguru: Keep it.
Three dots.
Satoru: I don’t want it
Suguru smiled.
Suguru: Then give it back tomorrow.
Satoru: okay
A pause.
Satoru: same place?
Suguru stopped walking.
He stared at the message.
Then smiled.
Suguru: Same place.
He put his phone away.
Neither of them understood why that tiny exchange mattered.
But tomorrow, they would sit together again.
And the day after that.
And eventually, sitting beside each other would become ordinary.
Then necessary.
Then something neither of them could imagine giving up.
But that was later.
For now, they were simply Satoru and Suguru.
Two students from entirely different departments.
Two people who had collided in the rain.
Two people who had no idea that they had just become the most important variable in each other’s lives.