Chapter Text
Satoru woke up, he ran out of his room and straight to Suguru’s. Empty. He stepped in, closing the door behind him.
“Oh,” The white haired boy said aloud, “so it wasn’t just a nightmare.”
Maybe he was talking to himself, or maybe he was waiting for an answer. For Suguru to walk in and ask Satoru what he was taking about. Of course, nobody walked in. The room was silent except for the sound of Satoru’s laboured breathing.
Satoru sat down on Suguru’s bed. His eyes wandered around the room before landing on his shaky hands.
“Suguru, I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” Satoru mumbled, “I’m sorry. I’ll follow your ideals. I’ll live how ever you want me to live just please let me live a life with you in it. Please, come back..” He buried his face into his hands and sobbed.
Satoru heard someone knocking, but not on Suguru’s door. On his own. He wiped his eyes and slowed his breathing in an attempt to seem fine and normal. He opened the door with a grin and saw Shoko standing at the door across from him.
“Hey! Shoko!” Satoru grinned.
Shoko turned to face him, “Oh. Gojo,” luckily she didn’t question the fact that Satoru was in Suguru’s room, or she just didn’t voice her concerns.
“What’s up?” Satoru asked with the same fake grin still plastered on his face.
“I just wanted to check on you, make sure you’re.. okay,” Shoko responded, she examined Satoru’s appearance as she spoke.
Satoru made a dismissive sound, “Oh, me? I’m fine. Great actually.”
“Uh huhh..”
“I’m only ever honest, Shoko.”
She scoffed with a small smirk, “Oh, sure you are.”
“I am!” Satoru chuckled weakly, suddenly he felt really tired. He didn’t understand why, but he really really didn’t want to talk to anyone anymore. He wanted to lie down and not get up for a while, “Sorry, Shoko, but there’s some things I need to do so..”
“Oh. Uh.. okay, see you later,” Shoko moved out of the way so Satoru could get into his room.
“Yep!” Satoru quickly closed the door. He sat down on the floor and broke down sobbing. Why did everything hurt so bad? Why was he so tired? Why didn’t he want to talk to anyone? Why didn’t he expect this?
He tensed at that last thought. “Why didn’t I expect this?”
…
“I should’ve, right? I mean, it’s not really a surprise. Nothing lasts forever, Satoru. Don’t be naive. You didn’t really think you could keep this friendship, did you? You fuck everything up. Always. Everyone leaves eventually. You shouldn’t be hurting this much. It’s not a shocker. You should’ve known this was coming.” He spoke softly. His voice breaking more and more with each word.
“But, fuck, it still really hurts..” Satoru muttered, his voice strained. Tears fell from his eyes and down his face. Satoru curled himself into a ball, swearing under his breath as tears soaked his clothes.
His breathing became heavy and quick. He felt as if he was suffocating.
“I-..” Satoru tried to wipe the tears from his eyes, but it had no affect since they just kept falling. His chest felt tight and his stomach was in knots. There was a pounding sensation in his head. Quiet but violent sobs racking his body.
Satoru was completely breaking down.
The list of issues could go on forever. It felt like a hammer was hitting his skull, and as if someone was learning to tie their shoelaces with his stomach. His heart rate sped up, his lungs were tight, his sight was blurry, and every muscle in his body felt like it was on fire and aching.
Satoru took deep breaths, and eventually he felt almost normal again. His mind was still flooded with thoughts of the black haired boy he was oh so fond of.
“I need to write him a letter.” He thought, standing up quickly and walking over to his desk. He pulled out a pen and a piece of paper and just.. started writing.
Satoru wrote down every single thing he had thought since that moment with Suguru. Every painful statement he wrote down and every sentence was followed by an apology.
He read over his work, “Damn,” Satoru said with a wry smile, “I look like a needy fucking ex, I can’t send him this what the fuck am I thinking??”
Satoru crumpled the paper and threw it to the side. He pulled out another piece of paper and wrote again, and again, and again. He wrote until he had a pile of papers in the corner of his room and he was fast asleep at his desk.