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The world crumbles in gold when the gods cry. That's probably how Suguru watched his last moments play out. Although, in Suguru's totally not dazed opinion, his world simmered away in crisp blues and a feeling of not quite regret, bit something akin to it perhaps.
Satoru was silent. Satoru was never silent. He was always bubbling to speak, a never ending station that you could listen to non stop without intervention. Has it changed this much? Since their last spring together, have they changed this much? Suguru could remember it, those filthy creatures blood staining his skin, how his head ached at the time, how his heart hurt.
The way those people, no, those animals' flesh tore under his hand like butterfly wings, soft, pliant, and sticky and also disgustingly warm as he shredded their throats. A vile day, truly. He had truly lost it that day. He wondered, if he was a hypocrite, maybe, to not allow Satoru to kill those people. The ones who were clapping so loudly for Riko's death. So, so loudly, while she lay limp, so sickeningly limp, in Satoru's arms. The Satoru he thought was dead. Was told was dead. Yet he stood there, blank, unnerving, holding that child in his arms.
Suguru felt like throwing up again, when he saw Satoru like that. So lifeless, yet still breathing. Still standing. Because he was the strongest. It wasn't them, not anymore. Not after Satoru somehow managed to conquer death. He couldn't do that, not even if it was for Satoru, and he would do anything for Satoru. But Satoru didn't need him anymore, did he?
Satoru was so strong, too strong. Like those lights you couldn't touch with your bare hands. Yet why did he look so dim now? His eyes shadowed with something he hadn't known Satoru could exhibit. He tells Satoru not to kill them.
Satoru seems to bounce back after a few weeks. Satoru also acts like nothing had happened, almost. Except for those two children that he keeps talking about. He couldn't remember their names, everything seemed so very fuzzy. Everything hurt, his throat felt like someone had dropped needles into his mouth and forced him to swallow. Eating felt like agony, all after he thought he was getting better again. But Satoru remained the same, almost. He was grateful for that until he wasn't.
It hurt too much to pretend he was doing well, anymore. He snapped so easily. He remembered it, the tearing of flesh, the blood. He reminds himself of why he did it when he thinks of those two girls, his children. He put them above Satoru. For once, he can't bring himself to regret it. Although, he can't help but wonder if he should have stayed with Satoru after.
He could have, but that would mean dragging Satoru, his untouchable, annoying, oblivious Satoru, that he was so disgustingly fond of through the mud. He couldn't allow that. To stand with someone who could no longer be equal to him. He left. It made him sick how good it felt. To not have someone standing over him.
The cult was an accident, in all honesty. He hadn't meant to start a cult, just gather a few people that shared his ideals. But really, could you blame him when they started to call him their leader? Their savior? He couldn't deny it felt nice. Powerful, even. It also made him feel a bit more settled in his decision. Because at least he wasn't standing alone anymore.
When he declared war, he saw Satoru again officially for the first time in ten years. Sure, they had found their way back to each other now and then, but neither of them could bring themselves to stay for too long. When he saw that Zenin, though, that filth, the wretched creature that was the same as him, He couldn't bring himself to not say something. Something about How wretched it was, how it had no place in the world he was creating. His world. A world where sorcerers would no longer have to die for people who didn't even know they existed. He would achieve that world.
Then maybe, just maybe, the pain, that horrible feeling of bile rising in his throat constantly would stop, and he could enjoy those crepes that his daughters love so dearly with them, or maybe actually enjoy that candy that Satoru liked so much when they were younger. That candy he went out of his way to buy for Satoru whenever he got the chance. The candy that he still kept in his pocket, if Satoru were to ever ask. Because honestly, could he ever actually leave him?
The answer was no. He couldn't tell if that was unfortunate or not. But he'll always keep that little cherry flavored piece of hard candy in his pocket, just in case Satoru does finally ask.
He doesn't achieve his perfect world. Not like he wanted. But he does get to see Satoru, as he ignores the horrid pain he was in. He hoped Satoru wouldn't do something stupid, after. Satoru sits next tk him, and just leans on him. Satoru was silent. Satoru was never silent. When Satoru speaks, he is barely heard. Suguru can only smile at the words as blood drips into his eyes. Even if it's his own, and it's warm and thick, it's just downright cruel that it clouds his view of Satoru.
He almost regrets all of it. But at the same time, he doesn't. Perhaps the only thing he could truly regret was leaving Satoru. Maybe, in the end, he should have gone back to Satoru after the incident. He couldn't bring himself to. Satoru will blame himself. He knows him too well. So he keeps smiling as blood blurs his vision. Even when the edges of the blur go dark. As long as he can see Satoru, it's fine. As long as he can see that blue. Satoru's blue, he was ok. The world doesn't end in fire, nor does it end in ice. It ends in Satoru's arms, and simmers away in his eyes. The world didn't crumble in gold when the gods cry. It crumbled in blue.