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One time, way before everything went to hell, Satoru put his head on Suguru’s lap and Suguru leaned down to kiss him with a smile on his lips and Satoru thought to himself: “If there is a thing that's meant to be in this world, this is it”.
Suguru walks away from him in a busy street in Shinjuku with metaphorical blood on his hands and a lot of fancy words about changing the world. Satoru just stands there, not believing any of those words, and he can’t bring himself to end this right then and there. He wants to scream in frustration, loud and public and a little pathetic, still standing in the middle of that busy street and maybe giving a reason for Suguru to look back, but he doesn’t. He wants to, wants to scream and wants to run up to Suguru and punch his handsome face and hit him so hard that there are broken bones and blood and pain and maybe some sort of reaction from Suguru.
He doesn’t.
Instead, Satoru just stands there with a heavy heart and does nothing. He watches as Suguru walks away until he disappears among the people on the street. Satoru watches until he can’t see anymore.
Satoru wants to throw his feelings away right then. He wants to forget his own foolishness in believing that they were going to be the strongest duo, together and forever.
He doesn’t. He can’t.
Instead, Satoru watches the crowd. There isn’t anything to watch anymore; Suguru is gone. Satoru just stands there a little longer. He doesn’t know how long it takes before he turns around and goes home, back to Jujutsu High. He doesn’t understand what’s going: he thought he knew Suguru.
He doesn’t. Clearly, he doesn’t.
One time, before everything went to hell, Satoru put his head on Suguru’s lap and Suguru ran his fingers through Satoru’s hair and Satoru thought: “Not even fate could take this from me.”
At first, it was perfect.
Suguru was strong and reliable and so self-righteous that it made Satoru want to puke. He was fun and smart and so handsome that it made Satoru want to poke his eyes out.
He didn’t.
Instead, Satoru pushed Suguru against a wall and promised him the world with his lips pressed against Suguru’s lips and he did it so many times that Satoru believed his own words.
Fate had blessed him.
It was perfect, it was so perfect and Satoru could hold Suguru and kiss Suguru and fuck Suguru and they were perfect together and they were strong, the best, there was nothing on their way and nothing nothing nothing to break them and then there was Zen’in Toji.
One time, before everything went to hell, Satoru put his head on Suguru’s lap and wrapped his arms around Suguru’s waist and Satoru prayed: “If fate has blessed me, this won’t be taken from me.”
Suguru walks towards Satoru in a half-empty Café dressed like a priest and smiling an empty and fake smile that disgusts Satoru. Satoru watches as he approaches his table and sits down across from him and he can’t bring himself to end this right then and there. Satoru could kill him. Satoru should kill him, but he doesn’t.
Satoru puts his elbow on the table and props his chin on his hand. He waits because Suguru ought to have some kind of excuse or explanation or death wish to be here, to come to him like this. Suguru sighs and the empty smile disappears from his face and Satoru is glad. There is only so much he can stand before he has to reach out and grab Suguru by his clothes and throw him to the floor and punch him with years of frustration and pain and longing.
He doesn’t.
Instead, he asks:
“Missed me?”
Suguru looks at him and presses his lips in a thin line. He looks heartbroken and tired and Satoru wants to reach out over the table and pull him into a hug, run his fingers through Suguru’s hair and tell him that it’s okay, that he can go home. But the truth is that he can’t, he can’t and that will never change.
“I’ve missed you,” Satoru says and sits back on his seat.
The waitress comes and goes; the silence between them is still comfortable. Satoru eats his dessert and doesn’t offer Suguru any. Suguru doesn’t complain.
“If Suguru went back, we could be together,” Satoru thinks.
“If Suguru had never left, we could still be together,” Satoru thinks.
Suddenly, without any explanation, Suguru asks:
“Can I still kiss you?”
Satoru laughs. He laughs because it should be obvious, but Suguru doesn’t know anymore. Satoru wants to cry and scream and make a fool of himself.
He doesn’t.
Instead, he says:
“Always.”
One time, when everything already went to hell, Satoru dressed himself quietly in a dark motel room and Suguru watched him with lightless eyes and Satoru thought to himself: “If this is all I’m allowed to have, I won’t let it be taken from me.”
Suguru stumbles out of a desert alley with blood running down his body and foolish plans that he knows he won’t be able to carry through because Satoru is there. Satoru just stands there, waiting for him; he knows he has to end this then and there. He wants to hold Suguru’s face and kiss him and tell him that they can run, that no one can stop them, that they are the strongest, but he doesn’t. He stands there and waits and listens and his heart aches.
When Suguru laughs, Satoru knows that it could’ve been so much, so many times, and it wasn’t. Their paths had crossed so many times and it had never become the same.
One time, right at the end, Satoru held Suguru’s lifeless body and ran his fingers through Suguru’s dirty hair and Suguru was dead and Satoru cried and thought to himself: “If there is a thing that really wasn't meant to be in this world, this was it”