Chapter Text
Gojo Satoru always knew he was a person of very strong convictions.
More than that, he knows he is extremely stubborn when it comes to making decisions—if he made up his mind to follow path A instead of path B, nothing and no one would be able to change that.
Maybe you could call him a workaholic because of it, but the best way he could explain it was through his professional life. No matter how impulsive his decisions seemed, they always turned out to be the right ones.
Looking for a new paid media investor because he thought the current one was too lazy? Consider it done. Creating a brand-new pitch from scratch in less than a week because the old one felt too cheesy? Sure! Why not?
Of course, he drove a few colleagues here and there crazy… and there was that one time his father nearly had a heart attack when he realized the entire paid media system had been revamped overnight… but hey! That’s the downside of being a literal genius around mere mortals, right?
This had always been a personality trait he considered positive, if not incredibly flattering to his ego. Throughout his life, Satoru had been convinced that once he set his mind on something, he could achieve whatever he wanted.
That’s what led him to believe that befriending Geto Suguru was a good idea. Actually, no just believe—no, he was completely convinced of it. He spared just one glance at his way in that rainy afternoon and automatically decided they should be friends. Or better yet, best friends.
And what a huge, fucked up mistake that was.
Because now he can’t eat, can’t sleep, can’t live his life the way he used to. Ever since that fateful day two months ago, Satoru feels like he hasn’t been the same. It’s as if he’s suffocating under feelings he’s never experienced before—that he doesn't even know what to do with.
And maybe he’s just being dramatic. Yeah. Maybe. Or maybe he really is dying.
It feels like dying, at least.
But let’s rewind a little.
It all started on a boring, dull Thursday. The weather had been bad all day, with sporadic rains lashing in Tokyo. The sky was painted with a sickly gray color, the soft but constant sound of the howling wind present everywhere. Soon, the city streets would be filled with the reddish and maple brown colors thanks to the ginkgo trees, indicating the end of the warm season.
Despite the depressing weather outside, Satoru couldn’t be more excited about the change in temperature. He always felt like he was more productive during the colder times of the year, being able to perform better at work and wake up without feeling like a sweaty, oily mess. Not to mention how all his work outfits looked much better in the fall.
Even though he worked mostly from home for his father’s drugstore company as head of Content Marketing, he still had a big overload of work—turns out being a nepobaby wasn’t the easiest thing after all, especially if your son is one of the most disciplined men in Japan.
The last few months had been so busy that Satoru had been forced to go to the office almost every day, preparing for important projects alongside his department colleague, Kento Nanami. Meeting days were always the most exhausting, leaving him with a restless edge drumming though his veins that never seemed to fade even after he left the office.
And today was one of those days.
Satoru arrived at his apartment feeling suffocated, the lack of movement his body had endured from spending the entire day sitting at his desk starting to drive him crazy. He loosened his blue tie, taking a deep breath as he rubbed the junction between his neck and shoulders.
Damn, he was really feeling stiff. Dealing with boring customers and an even more boring Nanami made him so stressed that he was seriously thinking of taking at least one week off.
It’not like someone could blame him for it. All the work he was assigned to do was already completed, and even if some super specific kind of disaster happened, he was sure Naoya Zenin could stop being an annoying jerk for at least five minutes and be somewhat helpful. The bastard was always going around the company hallways trying to act like him anyway, Satoru might as well put him to good use.
He quickly crossed his living room and headed towards his suite, irritated by the images of Naoya filling his mind. If Satoru could, he would have punched that smug smile out of his face a long time ago, but he knew he had to hold back. As Nanami liked to say “ignorant jerks are useful to have around”, and maybe that was true. Naoya was helpful sometimes. Like, 20% of the time. Or 10%. But still.
Fuck. Now not only was he tired but also feeling pissed off.
He stretched his arms above his head slowly and felt his muscles protest, making him curse softly at his empty apartment.
Maybe he should go to the gym and workout a little bit. Just to blow off some steam.
He removed his suit with a tired groan, entering his closet and searching for his gym clothes. He ultimately decided to go with some basic black shorts and an old Digimon hoodie, wanting to feel comfortable more than anything after such a long day. A little exercise would do his mind good, he is sure of it.
He headed to the kitchen, sliding across the tiles in his socks as he started preparing his pre-workout drink. He mixed a generous creatine dose and two spoonfuls of sugar to make it taste better, adding three more right after just for good measure.
Leaning against the counter, he took a large sip, humming softly as the flavor of white chocolate filled his mouth. He fumbled around his hoodie pocked with his other hand, grabbing his phone.
Satoru [17:38 pm]
hey
can i like, take a week off?
Old man [17:39]
Did you finish the product presentation for the Kamo’s?
Satoru [17:39]
duh
Nanami is going to forward it to you soon
Old man [17:40]
👍
Huh. That was surprisingly easy. Maybe being a nepobaby wasn’t that bad, after all.
Soon enough, he was already at his door again, lacing his sneaker and getting ready to leave. The gym wasn’t that far away, but considering how the weather was getting worse with every passing minute, it was probably better to drive there.
If things continued like this, Tokyo would be facing a storm soon.
‧· · ─ ·୨🀦୧· ─ · ‧·
Fifteen minutes later, Satoru was already surrounded by the characteristic noise of weight plates hitting each other, a generic electronic music playing in the background. He let out a deep sight, heading to a secluded corner and beginning to stretch, trying to loosen his muscles.
The contrast between the bright yellow lights made him feel a quick jolt of pain behind his eyes, a sign that his vision would likely suffer from sensitivity soon. He knew his doctor would curse his ancestors if he found out he wasn’t using his glasses lately—something about how his eyes were an abnormal shade of blue and therefore more photosensitive to light—but Satoru couldn’t help it. He hated the feeling of the rims around his face, and hated even more how childish he looked when he wore them. He’d rather have to deal with the occasional ache now and then than looking like a pathetic nerd.
Just as he finished that thought, another flick of pain came, making his stomach flip. He did his best to ignore it, heading towards the area where most of the arm training equipment was located.
He started doing some shoulders and triceps exercises, trying his best to focus on the muscles he was working with and keeping his breathing in sync. The pain was slowly spreading through his body, making the buzz behind his head finally get a little quiet after weeks of being there.
Yeah. Satoru missed this.
He stopped his barbell curl training to take a breath, quietly observing the two boys in front of him—the taller one with pink hair and a boyish smile on his face, chattering nonstop to the boy with spiky hair next to him. Satoru watched with amusement as the two interacted, snickering at the way the black-haired guy tried really hard to keep up with everything his friend was saying.
It must be nice to workout with someone.
It had been a while since he’d seen his friends—or rather, it had been a long time since he had a social interaction that wasn’t linked to work. As much as he considered Nanami one of his closest friends, he knew the blond was getting fed up with him.
But still… it was worth a shot, wasn’t it? Nanami took weekly pilates classes (just like an old man) and it was obvious that he cared about his health considering his physique. So maybe he would agree to workout with him… or Satoru could convince him to at least give it a try.
Mhm. That sounded like a good plan. Satoru grabbed his phone, starting to type a quick text.
Satoru [17:52 pm]
Nanaminnnnnnnn
Kento [17:52 pm]
Please don’t.
Satoru [17:52 pm]
wtf man
i was just saying hi?????
Kento [17:52 pm]
Just don’t.
Satoru [17:52 pm]
my dude
i just want to talk???
Kento [17:53 pm]
I’ve spent the whole week by your side.
For God’s sake
Give me a break.
Satoru [17:53 pm]
ur kidding me right
Kento [17:53 pm]
I’m turning my phone off.
Satoru [17:53 pm]
OKAY THEN
goodbye
i hope i die.
Kento is typing…
He watched the typing bubble next to Nanami’s name disappear and reappear several times, a chuckle slipping out of his mouth. No matter how much Nanami pretended not to care, deep down he couldn't stand when Satoru made those self-deprecating jokes—he was too soft-hearted for that, and Satoru made sure to take advantage of it every time.
Just as he was about to send him another message, a shiver ran down his spine. He couldn't explain it, but he could practically feel a present of eyes on him.
He looked up from his phone, scanning the gym with a small frown. Nothing seemed out of place—all the students focused on their one little world with their training partners, no one paying attention to him. Satoru shook his head, letting out a small sight—he was feeling so tired that his fatigue was starting to play tricks on him. His phone beeped in his hands, making him reluctantly turn his attention back to his device.
Kento [17:55 pm]
I hate you.
Seriously.
Kento [17:56 pm]
wHY the fuck aren’t you answering right now
Satoru [17:56 pm]
hey now
aren’t you the one who always tells me to watch my mouth?
Kento [17:56 pm]
i’m so tired
Satoru [17:56 pm]
and if you hate me why are you still here talking to me?
hmmmmmmmmmmm????
Kento [17:56 pm]
Because you are needy.
And will die if don’t get any attention in at least 5 minutes.
Satoru [17:57 pm]
i’m going yo pretend you didn’t say that
Kento [17:57 pm]
Gojo
Satoru [17:57 pm]
you looooooooooooove meeeeeeeeee
Kento [17:57 pm]
Gojo.
Just.
Say.
What.
You.
Want.
Satoru [17:58 pm]
won’t even try to deny it, huh?
anyway
do you want to start working out with me?
maybe
Kento [17:58 pm]
No.
Satoru [17:58 pm]
what
why not?
Kento [17:58 pm]
Because I said no.
Satoru [17:59 pm]
jesus
you’re no fun
i didn’t even want you to do it anyway.
✦Agumon showing his tongue sticker✦
Kento [17:59 pm]
Great.
Satoru [17:59 pm]
you’re such a bad firend
firen
friend
Kento [17:59 pm]
Having trouble there
Satoru [17:59 pm]
shut up
Kento [17:59 pm]
You know what?
I’ll workout with you if you come with me to those homemade bread classes I mentioned.
Satoru [18:00 pm]
since when did you became a grandmother
Kento [18:00 pm]
Sorry if I like to make my own meals instead of surviving on instant ramen.
Satoru [18:00 pm]
ok that was a low blow
So uncalled for
Kento [18:00 pm]
You’re mad bc is true
Satoru [18:01 pm]
who are you kidding
You only take these classes because you’re in love with that guy at the bakery
Kento [18:01 pm]
That’s not true at all
Satoru [18:01 pm]
dude
you were literally looking at him with hearts in your eyes yesterday
Kento [18:01 pm]
I’m turning my cellphone off.
Satoru [18:01 pm]
you’re mad bc it’s true
Satoru [18:03 pm]
why are you ignoring me
also
if you’re being mean on purpose just to make me give up on having you workout with me, you’re screwed
bc i’m in.
Kento [18:03 pm]
What
Satoru [18:03 pm]
i’ll take the classes with you
my dear sugar bun
Kento [18:03 pm]
No you’re not
Satoru [18:04 pm]
YES I AMB
AM.
get you gym shorts ready Nanamin
because i’m going to make sure to get us the cutest apron’s ever for our class.
He tucked his phone into his sweatshirt before Nanami could respond, knowing that when they started teasing each other like this they could go on for hours. At least his mood had improved a bit.
Working out with Nanami would be great, and sure, he could take the cooking classes with him—they did sound a bit fun, after all—but there was no guarantee this would become a routine. Especially since they had very different schedules.
Maybe he should text Utahime soon. It had been a while since they’d met up to talk. But he couldn’t see Utahime voluntarily coming to the gym with him. The last time they went running together in the park, she’d nearly strangled him for ruining her “perfect hair”.
It’s not like he has any other friends as close as her and Nanami, much less people he trusts and actually wants to spend time with. Ever since they met in high school, Satoru has grown quite attached to the both of them, and even though he really annoys them sometimes, he likes to think they have a sincere friendship.
But not sincere enough to train together, apparently.
Yeah, no. Satoru really needs a new friend. A new friend who likes to workout as much as him. That would be perfect.
He grabbed his water bottle, letting his eyes wander around the gym again, taking in everyone present.
Then he stopped on a figure.
There was a guy alone like him, standing in the farthest corner of the arm training area. He looked like he was preparing to do a prone bench press, adjusting the weights plates on the bar. Satoru tilted his head to the side, narrowing his eyes as he tried to get a better look at the guy.
He was probably the same age as Satoru, maybe 24, 25 years at most. He was wearing red shorts and a basic white oversized shirt, his black hair tied back in a neat bun. Satoru could make out a few silver glints around his face—piercings, maybe?—but what impressed him the most was the sheer number of tattoos the guy had. They stretched out around his arms and legs in a dance of black ink, images of creatures Satoru couldn’t identify dotting his body.
Speaking of arms, holy shit—what some big ones the guy had. And legs. It was obvious he took his exercise routine very seriously… more seriously than Satoru ever did, perhaps. He had a serene look on his face, and Satoru figured he probably wouldn't get punched if he tried to approach him to chat.
The more Satoru thinks of this, the more he is sure that befriending this guy wouldn’t be such a bad idea.
He took a big breath, scrunching the water bottle in his hands and bringing the attention of the boys he was observing before. A shadow of anxiety crossed his mind—it had been a long time since he’d interacted with anyone outside of work, especially since he was the one initiating the interaction this time. He was used to people coming after him, not the other way around.
Oh, fuck it.
He straightened his spine, marching towards the stranger just as he sat down on the bench and sipped his water bottle, no doubt preparing to begin his sets.
“Hey man, how are you doing?” Satoru chipped in, stopping at a respectful distance.
He swallowed his nerves, a lump forming in his throat as he watched the stranger's hands flex, twisting the cap back onto the bottle before setting it down near his feet. Only then did the guy finally look up.
He was a little surprised to realize the stranger was much more handsome up close. Well. Like. He had a sharp jaw and like, really nice facial features. And he was really big. Big in a way that was gracious but also a little intimidating—if Satoru were the type who would be intimidated by anyone. Which he isn’t, of course. The stranger is just very pretty in a way that was a little unsettling. The “if-you-hit-me-I-would-thank-you” kind of unsettling.
But of course Satoru was thinking this in a completely straight way. He was a sincere person, he was just admitting to himself the guy in front of him was really… beautiful. That’s all.
Caramel brown eyes locked on him, devoid of any emotion that could tell Satoru what he was thinking. His sharp gaze almost made Satoru feel strangely embarrassed, but he concealed his nervousness the best he could—he was no longer a kid with social problems, for God’s sake. He could totally do this.
“I’m fine, how about you?” The stranger finally answered, making Satoru smile as he realized the tone offered to him wasn’t aggressive at all, just cordial. Maybe a little confused, but that was okay. Things were going very well.
“I’m good too! I, uh— I just wanted to know if you needed someone to spot during your lifts? Since you’re on your own and all that.” Satoru replied, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. He didn’t want to seem like some kind of desperate jerk to his maybe-new-friend.
The stranger took his time to look Satoru up and down, wetting his lips as a pierced tongue brushed along the snake-bites he had on his lower lip with a click sound. Satoru wondered how many more piercings the man must have around his body.
“How kind of you.” The black-haired man replied, tucking his bangs behind his ear. Satoru was too distracted looking at his earrings to realize what the guy had said, analysing how all his jewellery followed the same style, giving off an edgy vibe.
It really suits him.
The stranger cleared his throat, drawing Satoru’s attention back to the conversation.
“I’d love some help. Do you want to take turns with me?” He asked, making a flush spread to Satoru’s cheeks at being caught staring.
“Sure, sounds great!” Satoru replied, very much not stuttering the words out.
He watched the guy lie down on the bench and grab the barbell, waiting for Satoru to position himself behind before starting his set. Satoru followed the movement of his arms, observing how he lifted the bar effortlessly, his breathing deep and controlled. When it was Satoru’s turn, he was unable to lift the bar even halfway up, his arms instantly trembling.
“Fuck, I can’t believe this—” Satoru groaned, rosing to his feet and nearly knocking his forehead against the bar.
“Hey, that’s alright. Let me take some of these off for you.” The guy said, not a trace of sarcasm in his voice. Satoru watched him remove some weights from the bar carefully, balancing the load better.
“I imagine you must have recently returned to the gym, right? It’s normal not being able to lift the same as you were used to, our muscles need time to be at their peak again.” He said, explaining to Satoru in a calm voice.
“Yeah, I haven’t been able to train these past few weeks because of work.” Satoru said, scratching his neck and looking away. “But how do you know that?” He asked at least, reaching for his water bottle and taking another sip. He didn’t know why, but his mouth kept running dry..
“I’ve seen you train a few times a week. But it’s been a while since I’ve last seen you… Maybe three or four weeks? The black-haired man replied in a distant tone, almost looking like he was talking more to himself than to Satoru. He seemed a little distracted as his eyes darted down, staring at Satoru’s throat with a strange expression. Satoru awkwardly swallowed the water, trying not to choke.
“O-Oh, you’ve seen me before?” Satoru said, coughing slightly. His tongue felt a little heavy in his mouth, making him struggle to get the words out.
What was wrong with him? Why was he feeling so nervous?
“Sorry for not saying hello before, then. I hope I didn’t look like a jerk or anything.”
“You didn’t. And there’s no need to apologize. I just watched you from afar sometimes.” The guy said, smiling warmly, his eyes curving into crescent moons. The casual response made Satoru feel strangely happy, his face going warm. He fidget with the hem of his sweatshirt, making the eyes of the man shift downwards.
“I really like your hoodie, by the way.”
At that, Satoru perked up, “Wait, don’t tell me you know Digimon?” He asked, unable to hide the excitement in his voice.
“I used to watch it as a kid, but my little sisters still make me watch it when I visit them.”
“Your sisters have good taste then, Digimon is really cool.” Satoru said, eyes sparkling. “I still watch it when I have some time in my routine and I’m not dying at work. I prefer the first two movies and the first three seasons of the anime—they have a vintage vibe that’s hard to beat, you know? But I think all the works in general are pretty good and consistent—”
Satoru didn’t even realise he started to ramble, squeezing and pulling the hem of his hoodie up a little with his hands as he gestured excitedly, missing the way the black-haired man’s eyes darted down to stare at his muscular thighs.
“Mhm, I think it’s pretty good, too. But I prefer Pokemon, to be honest.”
Satoru let out a dramatic gasp, placing his hand on his chest as if he’d been punched.
“Oh my Gods, you didn’t say that! You know what, I don’t feel like being your friend anymore. Satoru said, suppressing his laughter as he pretended to get up from the bench. The stranger let out a hearty laugh, holding Satoru’s shoulders with warm hands, keeping him seated.
“I’m so sorry for the blasphemy, Your Highness. Please reconsider my friendship?” He said between snickers, looking down at Satoru.
“Mm. I’ll reconsider. But only because you called me Your Highness.” Satoru said, sticking his tongue out at him. “Now help me with my push ups so I don’t get in the way of your training, dude.”
“Sure, dude.” The guy replied, his tone a little mean. It wasn’t exactly bothering Satoru.
He positioned himself behind Satoru, spotting him as he performed a short set of twenty reps, this time managing to lift the weight without any problems. Silence filled the air, only interrupted by Satoru’s heavy breathing, his eyes closed tightly the entire time.
When Satoru stood up, he began returning the weights to their original place while the black-haired man settled back on the bench. Satoru caught himself watching as he took a sip of water, his gaze following the tattoo around his neck—a flower-like creature with a single eye at its center. He created his throat for what felt like the tenth time that day, attracting the attention of the seated man.
“I just realized I still don’t know your name. Mine is—”
“Gojo Satoru,” The guy interrupted, a smug look on his face. Satoru was surprised for only a second, flashing a wicked smile right after.
“Damn, you actually know me, huh? What, you’re my stalker or something?” Satoru winked at the man, teasing him a little.
Actually, no. Joking. They were just joking around between new friends. Yeah. Exactly.
They guy snickered, lying down slightly on the bench, supporting himself on his elbows.
“Oh, you would like to know, wouldn't you?” He asked with a slightly lower tone, making Satoru suddenly feel a little more warmer. The air conditioning must be broken or something.
“But no, I just heard you giving your name to the receptionist one time, something about a registration form you had to fill out to win a free fitness chocolate kit—”
Satoru grimaced, shaking his head. “Oh my God. Don’t ever remind me of that, the worst chocolate I’ve ever eaten in my life. Straight up tasted like cat litter.”
The dramatic outburst made the man let out a chuckle, lying down on the bench as his chest shook with the force of his laughter. A few people glanced their way, but Satoru ignored them, too busy trying to kick the black-haired man’s feet.
“I’m serious dude, it was terrible!”
“Oh Jesus,” The guy wheezed, pretending to wipe away some tears from his eyes, "Sorry, I guess I’ve never seen someone complain so passionately about chocolate of all things.”
“Well, I’m a very passionate person, so I don’t know what you mean by that.” Satoru saint with a small smirk, taking the cut to position himself behind the stranger to spot him, “Maybe you’ve only met boring people in your life so far, have you thought about that?”
“Mhm. Maybe you’re right.” The stranger grabbed the weight bar, brushing against Satoru’s hand lightly in the process.
“And you really do look like a passionate person.”
Satoru’s brain short-circuited at the answer, blinking hard. The man offered him a smile, the action so contagious that Satoru caught himself doing the same.
“My name is Geto Suguru, if you’re still wondering.” The guy— no, Suguru replied. Satoru hummed, content in finally being able to name the angelic face with pretty piercings.
“Suguru, then. I really like your name.”
Suguru’s eyes widened, seeming surprised with the use of his first name sounding so casual in Satoru's mouth. He took advantage of the moment to grab the weight bar and slam it down, forcing Suguru to apply more force to hold it, groaning low in his throat with the sudden effort.
“You better do a good set then, Su-gu-ru, because I’m going to increase your load in the next rep.”
He was met with a small, breathless laugh, Suguru’s pierced tongue darting out to wet jis lips. Satoru followed the movement.
“Of course, Sa-to-ru. Anything you want.”
‧· · ─ ·୨🀦୧· ─ · ‧·
By the end of the day, Satoru had sore muscles, the beginning of a headache, and Geto Suguru’s number on his cellphone.
The entire workout went very well, probably more than Satoru anticipated. Suguru knew a lot about gym and fitness topics, helping Satoru with various tips and comments throughout their exercises. Satoru didn’t normally like know-it-all’s, often making fun of them (Nanami was a living proof of this, the poor man had been through too much), but he quickly discovered that he actually enjoyed listening to Suguru explain things to him.
Whenever he got excited about something, his expression would soften into the cutest, brightest smile, his hands moving happily as he explained the best way to perform some random exercise or how a particular piece of equipment had been designed. And of course Satoru couldn't resist slipping in a witty comment here and there, the urge to be a brat simply too strong to ignore, but Suguru didn’t get annoyed at all, to his surprise—if anything, he actually encouraged his antics, bickering right back with a playful glint in his eyes that mirrored Satoru’s own.
Talking to Suguru was easy. Like, so easy it was kind of scary. Satoru couldn’t even remember the last time he allowed himself to be his “real version” in a conversation without making the other part feel overstimulated.
He learned that Suguru came from a small family in rural Tokyo—just him, his parents, and his two teenage twin sisters, Mimiko and Nanako. He moved to the city when he turned eighteen, and ever since then he’d done his best to stay present in his younger sister’s lives. It was obvious that Suguru was really attached to them, and Satoru couldn’t help but chuckle hearing the stories about the constant trouble the twins managed to get themselves into.
The subject of Suguru’s parents, on the other hand, seemed to be a raw wound. Suguru didn’t seem comfortable sharing much about them, only stating that they spoke occasionally when Suguru came to visit. Every time he talked about them, his hands would twitch at his sides, his voice becoming a little distant. Satoru decided it was best to let the conversation flow elsewhere, not letting pass the grateful look Suguru gave him at that.
It turned out he didn’t work as a personal trainer or something related to wellness, as Satoru had previously suspected, but rather as a tattoo artist in a studio located north of Shibuya. Yes, the art he had on his body was his own work, but no, he didn’t tattoo most of it on himself. The one who did was his boss and close friend Sukuna, who Suguru defined as being “a bit of a lunatic but a good guy at heart”. Basically Satoru’s favorite type of person.
When they finally finished their workout, the sky had turned pitch-black, a steady, heavy drizzle pelting the streets.
“Did you leave your car in the parking lot or on the street?” Satoru asked as they walked into the direction of the gym’s entrance, Suguru pausing for a moment in front of the lockers to pull out a black backpack and a helmet from one of the shelves.
“I came with my bike, I parked it right across the street.”
“Oh, you have a bike? Cool, cool. You got to show me sometime…” Satoru said cheerfully, stopping abruptly right after. Suguru squinted at him, turning around to look over his shoulder.
“Wait— you’re riding your motorcycle home? In a weather like this?!” Satoru exclaimed, comically pointing to the sky.
“I mean… yeah?” Suguru laughed, bumping their shoulders together. “Relax, Satoru, it’s not like I’m made of sugar.”
They stopped outside, watching the puddles slowly forming in the pavement. Their shoulders were still touching. Satoru’s skin felt kind of itchy.
“Besides, I don’t live that far from here,” Suguru continued. “I’ll probably be back at my apartment in twenty minutes or so."
Satoru rolled his eyes, glaring at Suguru. “Well, it’s up to you. Don’t come crying to me if you’re dying of flu.” He said, grabbing his car keys and twirling them on his fingers, trying to look cool. He probably looked cool, right?
He glanced sideways, finding Suguru already watching him with a small smirk.
Fuck, why does he have such a pretty smile?
“Uh. Anyways,” Satoru stammered, tearing his eyes away. “Well, um— since you’re okay with getting wet, I’m heading home, then. See you around, dude.”
He turned around, pulling the hood of his sweatshirt over his head as he headed towards the parking lot. He prayed the rain-scented air brushing against his skin was the only reason he was trembling.
“Satoru.”
He heard Suguru call over the sound of the rain, his body turning around in the direction of it before he could even think. Suguru seemed pleased when their eyes met, giving him that same once-over from head to toe before smiling.
“Call me when you get home, okay?” Suguru said, not exactly sounding as he was asking, much less pleading.
It sounded more like he was stating a fact, almost as if he knew Satoru wouldn't be able to think about anything else until he did exactly what he’d been told.
Without waiting for an answer, Suguru turned around and walked away, slipping his motorcycle helmet over his head. The back of his neck looked slightly flushed.
Another violent shudder ran through Satoru’s body, his mind repeating it’s just the rain, it’s just the rain, it’s just the rain all the way to his car. The entire drive home passed in a blur.
When he finally arrived at his apartment 10 minutes later, he found himself typing a message to Suguru before even locking his front door.
‧· · ─ ·୨🀦୧· ─ · ‧·
It didn’t take long for them to become part of each other’s routine.
They texted constantly and trained together whenever they could, usually seeing each other at least four or five times a week. Before Satoru realized it, Suguru had become an indispensable part of his life, a piece he hadn’t even known was missing—it was fucking uncanny. He had never felt so deeply connected to someone before.
Maybe things had always meant to happen this way, and maybe that was why everything started becoming more intense four weeks after they first met.
It was a normal Thursday, the late-afternoon sun streaming through the gym’s large windows and bathing the space in an orange glow. Satoru was just finishing sharing his thoughts on a horror alien movie he’d watched over the weekend when Suguru’s phone rang. He apologized to Satoru, crouching down to pick up his phone and pressing it to his ears, stepping away so he could talk with Gods knew who was on the other end of the line.
Except Satoru knew who had called.
He glanced at the screen before Suguru picked up, catching sight of the profile picture of a pretty girl with short, dark hair staring back at him with a weary expression.
Suguru’s call lasted about six minutes—which was just an approximation, of course. It wasn’t like Satoru had been counting every second like a sociopath while his stomach twisted itself into knots—and when he finally returned, he had a happy, relaxed expression on his face.
It made Satoru feel like shit, for some reason.
“Sorry about that, Satoru. You were talking about—”
“Why did you take so long? Who was that? Your girlfriend?” Satoru cut him off, not even giving Suguru a chance to catch his breath.
“Uhm. No?” Suguru blinked, confused. “She’s just my best friend. She was calling to see if I finished sketching the tattoo she wants to get next month.” Suguru replied slowly, giving him a puzzled look. Satoru fought back a sigh of relief, feeling the tension drain from his body.
So she wasn’t a girlfriend. Just a friend. Or a best friend—Satoru though he was the best friend here, but whatever, that was a conversation from another time. The important thing is that Suguru is single, so everything is perfectly fine. No reason to get upset.
Wait. Why the fuck had he been bothered by that in the first place?
Satoru rubbed the back of his neck, trying to fight off the anxiety that came flooding back. He couldn't understand his thoughts, let alone his feelings. Why had he felt so miserable at the idea that Suguru might have a girlfriend? And why had he felt so happy when he found out there wasn’t anyone in the picture? Why did he care?
“So she’s just a friend?” Satoru asked dumbly, wincing at the sound of his own voice. He looked away, taking a sip from his water bottle. His hands were shaking a little.
Suguru blinked at him again, studying his face. “Yes, that’s what I just said… Why are you acting like this?”
“Acting like what?” Fuck. Was Satoru having a fever right now? His face was feeling so warm.
“I don’t know. Like you're on edge or something.” Suguru replied with a frown, continuing to stare at Satoru as if he was trying to read his thoughts.
Good luck with that buddy, even I can't understand myself.
Suguru suddenly moved closer, forcing Satoru to lean back against the wall behind him. From this close, he could catch the scent of Suguru’s cologne, subtle but distracting. It made his mouth water for some reason.
“Why did you ask if she was my girlfriend?”
Shit. Fucking fuck.
“Dunno.” Satoru said, shrugging, “I guess I just thought she was pretty.”
That wasn’t exactly a lie, but it certainly wasn’t the reason why he wanted to drop a weight on his head.
“Oh.”
“Yeah.” Why was Suguru looking at him like that? And why couldn’t Satoru just shut up and think about other things to say?”
“So you— you just thought she was pretty.”
“Exactly. Pretty.” Satoru said, nodding for emphasis. “I would date her.” He added without thinking, giving a fake chuckle, desperately trying to ease the tension in the air.
“You would?” Suguru asked, arching an eyebrow at him, his gaze unreadable.
No.
“Yes. You should give me her number.” Satoru said, giving a really forced smile at Suguru. Good thing that he knows how to lie really well.
Suguru stared at him for a little longer before huffing, reaching out to flick Satoru’s forehead.
“Ow! What was that for?” Satoru whined, sweeping his hair back.
“Shoko is a lesbian. And she would eat your head off for breakfast if she had the chance.” Suguru explained, chuckling as he looked at the expression on Satoru’s face, his hands still clutching at his forehead uselessly.
“Plus, even if she wasn’t a lesbian, I wouldn’t date her.”
“Huh? Why not?” Satoru asked before he could stop himself, dropping his hands.
Suguru took a little longer than normal to answer, tucking his bangs behind his ear.
“I’m only interested in men.” He said then, voice smooth and controlled as always but his hands kept twitching at his sides, eyes not really looking at Satoru’s face.
“Oh. Oh, you— you never told me that.” Satoru said even more dumbly than before, trying to get his brain and mouth to work together and offer the comfort Suguru deserved—to say anything, really—but all he could think about was that Suguru didn’t like women. He liked men. And he was single. Not that the last part should have any importance.
Gods. What was wrong with him?
“Is that a problem for you?” Suguru asked, not letting Satoru gather his thoughts. He still wasn't looking him in the eye.
This time it was Satoru who flicked Suguru’s forehead, applying extra force to lure him out of Gods knows what Suguru was thinking. It seemed to work, because he instantly glared at him, bringing his hand to his forehead.
“Ow? Satoru, what the actual fuck—”
“No dickhead, it’s not a problem.” Satoru replied a little too rudely, but his gaze conveyed all the support he felt, making Suguru’s pose relax a little, his fists finally loosening.
“I know we’ve known each other for a short time, but I’m not an asshole and I’m definitely not homophobic. Plus, two of my best friends are gay, too.”
Suguru snickered at that, rolling his eyes. “Oh, really? ‘I’m not homophobic, I even have friends who are gay.’ That’s exactly the kind of thing a homophobic person would say, you know that, right?”
Satoru let out an indignant noise, grabbing Suguru’s shoulders and shaking him frantically.
“Screw you! I’m being serious, you asshole! You know Utahime is a lesbian! And one of my closest friends from work is gay too!”
“Wait, Nanami is gay? Why didn’t you tell me before?” Suguru asked, grabbing Satoru’s arms. He bit the inside of his cheek, knowing that the chances of Suguru flicking his forehead again if he laughed at his face were really high.
“And why would I tell you? I didn’t know that was suuuuuuch an important piece of information to know.”
The bratty tone made Suguru grimace, squeezing Satoru’s forearm a little too tightly as a reprimand, a small indignant sound coming from Satoru’s mouth as he did such.
“Ouch! You know what? I was going to tell you about his crush on the bakery-guy across the street from work, but since you’re being so mean I refuse!” Satoru exclaimed a little too loudly, attracting curious glances.
“Fuck you! You’re going to tell me right now!”
“No the fuck I won’t!”
“I told you everything about Sukuna’s crazy ex that shattered the studio’s facade, you literally own me!”
“Well, then you should've known better before calling me a homophobe!”
“I didn't call you a homophobe, I just stated how you suspiciously said something a homophobic person would say.”
“That’s the same fucking thing?”
“No it’s fucking not?”
They fell into their usual bickering, like the initial anxiety didn’t even exist in the first place. It was through this chaotic conversation that Satoru discovered Suguru’s sexuality—and in the end, it didn’t matter that much for him. It really didn’t.
Suguru was still Suguru, the wonderful new friend Satoru had found for himself. And deep down, he kind of felt reallyhappy that he was this trustworthy for Suguru to tell such an important part of himself. Maybe their friendship meant just as much to Suguru as it did to him.
But maybe Satoru wasn’t really being honest with himself.
Because, in a way, everything did change after that.
Well, objectively speaking, their friendship didn’t change at all. They kept meeting almost every day to work out, and their habit of texting each other constantly didn’t change either. But now, Satoru couldn't help noticing the way Suguru would sometimes look at some guys at the gym. How his gaze would linger on their legs, their torsos. It made Satoru feel strangely uncomfortable.
At first, he thought that maybe he was homophobic after all. That thought lasted for nearly an entire day of him locked inside his apartment pacing around until the realization finally hit him at night over a cup of instant ramen that no. He wasn't homophobic. He wasn't disgusted by the idea of Suguru looking at other men, but he...
He wanted Suguru's gaze to remain solely on him.
And that didn't even make any sense. He didn’t give a single shit about who Utahime dated, and he hadn’t even batted an eye when Nanami awkwardly tried to flirt with Haibara whenever they went out for coffee.
So why was it so different when it came to Suguru?
And for the love of the Gods—why did he feel even worse when he realized that some of those guys were returning Suguru's looks? Nearly every man in that goddamn gym seemed to be checking Suguru out all. The. Time. Looking at him like he was a Greek god—which, yeah, okay, he was, but that was beside the point.
The point was that it made Satoru feel downright murderous.
His sanity was really tested a week after their conversation, when a guy interrupted them mid-practice to ask Suguru what kind of shampoo brand he used to keep his hair “so silky and shiny”.
His name was Hiroshi or something—Satoru didn't really care enough to pay attention—a guy with dark brown hair and a short, delicate build. His irritating voice lingered in the air for too long, greedy eyes roaming over Suguru's body in a way that bordered on disrespectful. Satoru sat there watching the entire interaction with a tight jaw, hoping Suguru would simply send the guy back to whatever hole he'd crawled out of and devote his attention solely to him again.
But obviously, that didn't happen. Suguru was far too polite for that, so when the guy placed his stupid little hand on Suguru's arm and squeezed while thanking him for the tips, Satoru saw red.
He remained quiet for the rest of their training session, only saying something here and there, feeling like he needed to punch something as hard as possible. He felt bad for acting so distant, but the way Suguru hovered and pampered him for the rest of the day was kind of worth it in the end.
Especially because he could see Hiroshi watching them from afar, brown eyes never leaving Suguru.
He really needed to punch something.
Aside from the whole men-can’t-seem-to-stop-hitting-on-my-best-friend situation, what was really driving Satoru insane more than anything else was that he simply couldn’t understand why he felt this way.
He’d never been interested in men in any way, never understood the appeal of being in a relationship with one, so he just assumed he was straight, right? That’s the usual standard for this stuff, isn’t it?
Even though he came from one of the most conservative families in Japan, his father had never been homophobic towards anyone. His mother died when he was very young so it’s not like he could ask her opinion on the matter, but his father always taught him to be the best in class without using disrespectful behavior to ridicule others.
Only pathetic and weak people do that, Satoru, was what he told him when he was little, and Satoru always took this teaching to his heart, so it was obvious that he didn’t hold any kind of hateful views against queer people. He has always thought of himself as the cute ally, not as someone who actually belonged to the group, if that made any sense.
And yeah, okay, he wasn’t very interested in dating women either. He and Utahime tried to kiss each other once in middle school and both nearly vomited before their mouths even touched, but that didn’t mean he didn’t like women, he is just not attracted to his best friend. Which is a totally normal reaction to have. Not to mention that she came out as a lesbian a while later, so that was definitely the reason why they never clicked.
So what if he’s still a virgin—even though he’s still 24 years old—because he never got interested in anyone? This just proves he hasn't found the right woman yet. Or at least that he’s kind of a picky guy. It doesn’t necessarily mean he’s gay.
He’s just having a bit of a confused moment. The overwork he’s put himself through in the recent weeks was making him get a brain fog that was clouding his thoughts. And he just cares a lot for Suguru, so of course he’s going to overthink some things.
That’s it. Satoru is just a little confused. And worried about his friend, obviously, because he knows a man as beautiful and incredible as Suguru deserves way better than these scumbags who keep looking at him like he was a piece of meat.
Of course. That was all it was. Worry. Because Satoru is such a great friend. All these strange feelings definitely are going to pass at any moment. He and Suguru are good friends. Best friends. Just that. Satoru likes women, he’s sure of it.
So what if his heart beats a thousand times faster when he’s with Suguru, in a way he never felt with any woman? Never felt with anyone?
So what if he is feeling a little jealous of the way other people looked at Suguru? It’s totally common for friends to be protective of each other. And he’s sure there’s a plausible explanation for the way he shivers all over when Suguru accidentally touches him.
So what if he sometimes finds himself thinking about Suguru before bed, with his heat heavy in his chest and a strange, warm feeling in his stomach? Satoru is sure there’s a completely heteresexual explanation for this. The end of summer, perhaps. Or exhaustion from work. Yeah. That must be it.
It doesn’t matter that Suguru makes him feel more alive and human than ever. It doesn't matter that he sometimes finds himself thinking late at night about what must be like to be held by him.
That doesn’t mean he’s gay.
‧· · ─ ·୨🀦୧· ─ · ‧·
Or maybe it fucking does.
Maybe Satoru is fucking gay. Or even more specifically? Maybe he’s completely fucking gay for Geto Suguru.
Because now he can’t eat, can’t sleep, can’t live his life the way he used to. He can’t stay away from Suguru, but every moment he’s near him it’s like he’s going to suffocate with so many sensations he never felt before, that he doesn't know what to do with.
And maybe he’s just being dramatic? Yeah. Maybe.
Or maybe he really is dying.
It feels like dying, at least.
It’s like a switch flipped in his brain, suddenly making him notice things about Suguru that he’d never been able to see before. It feels like he’s seeing Suguru for the first time, not just the surface—truly seeing the warm, kind soul he has.
Suguru is so sweet to him, always so caring and present. He’s such an incredible artist too, so interesting and breathtakingly intelligent, always seeming to know exactly what to say to make Satoru fall deeper and deeper under his spell.
And his piercings. God—his stupid, handsome fucking piercings that always frame his face so perfectly. Satoru had lost count of how many times he’d wanted to lick them all over.
There was no point in denying it anymore: he was in love with his best friend. Completely, hopelessly in love with everything he said and did, with everything he was.
And all of this came crashing down on another random fucking Thursday.
They were spending the afternoon at the gym as usual, getting ready to start the leg workout Suguru had planned for them. The weather had been cloudy all day, a few sparse rays of sunlight breaking through the thick blanket of gray overhead, casting the city in a muted brownish glow.
Suguru was chatting animatedly as they adjusted their training gloves, talking about the new flash sheets he was designing—something about blending a more traditional irezumi style with an old-school aesthetic. Satoru didn’t know much about art himself, but he always enjoyed listening to Suguru talk about his work.
Unfortunately, none of the words were actually making it into his brain.
He was much more focused on the way Suguru’s eyes sparkled with excitement, his hands gesturing happily as he explained every detail of his new project. Satoru felt his skin grow hot as he slid his eyes toward Suguru’s hands, watching his fingers flex as he adjusted the grip on the glove on his hand.
He could still hear Suguru's excited voice in the background, completely unaware of Satoru’s less-than-holy thoughts as his gaze crept up his forearm, following the lines of a tentacle creature that Suguru had once told him was the first tattoo he’d ever given himself. He watched the muscles in his arms twitch with his movements, his mouth watering.
The stares he sent Suguru’s way became a common occurrence ever since Satoru realized he was in love with him. He had lost count of how many times he had to run to the gym bathroom to hide his hard-on, all because he’d spent a little too long staring at Suguru’s arms during their workouts.
Or his hands. His strong legs. The way his back muscles contracted when he did core exercises. Or how his breathing quickened after a long workout, his voice turning all deep and rough from exhaustion. Everything about him seemed to drive Satoru insane.
And shit. Did Satoru ever comment on his fucking arms? Big, strong arms, the ink of his tattoos only highlighting the beauty of his lightly tanned skin and the bulge of his strong muscles.
Suguru is strong. Maybe even stronger than Satoru, but he’s never admitting that out loud. He is convinced Suguru could lift a car if he wanted to. He still hasn’t forgotten the time he kept refusing to let Suguru use the rowing machine only for him to scoop Satoru up in a princess carry like he weighed absolutely nothing and dropped him to his feet by his side. And he certainly hasn't forgotten how the whole ordeal turned him into a blushing, stammering mess.
As lean as Satoru is, he’s not light by any means, and he is taller than Suguru by a few centimeters. Even though he didn’t have a proper workout routine until he started training with Suguru, he’d always been naturally muscular. None of that seemed to faze Suguru though, his sweet smile doing nothing to hide just how effortlessly dominant he was. Satoru would bet that, if Suguru wanted to, he could throw him around however he pleased.
Yeah. If Suguru truly wanted, he could pin Satoru to the ground, get on top of him, and—
“Satoru? Are you feeling okay? Your face is redder than usual.” Suguru asked, a worried expression coloring his face.
He realized way too late that Suguru was no longer speaking, now gripping Satoru’s right shoulder to prevent him from falling to the ground. His skin kind of burned where Suguru was holding him. It wasn’t a bad sensation.
“Satoru? Hey— talk to me, man.”
“Huh? Oh, shit— Sorry, Suguru. I’m just a little… uh, spacey today. I didn’t get a good night of sleep yesterday.”
It wasn’t entirely a lie. He’d spent the whole night staring at the ceiling, trying really fucking hard not to slip his hand down his boxers and jerk off to the selfie Suguru had sent him.
At first glance, it looked innocent enough. Suguru was lying on his bed, his phone held above him at an upward angle that only showed a small portion of his face, the focus mostly on the old Pokemon t-shirt he was wearing.
This wasn’t the first time Suguru had sent him something like this. They had a mutual habit of sending each other selfies throughout the day to show what they were up to—there was even one time when Satoru sent a photo of himself and his father in a meeting room, his old man pointing an angry finger at the camera while yelling as Satoru to pay attention to the conversation. The picture had quickly become a running joke between the two of them.
But this was the first time a photo had genuinely affected Satoru.
The whole thing looked spontaneous at first, but it was far too perfect—the hard lines of Suguru's abs were visible in just the right way, the faint happy trail disappearing into his sleep pants, lips curled into a teasing smirk that had Satoru fidgeting for the rest of the night.
Suguru had to know what he was doing. Had to know what this was doing to Satoru. Either that, or Satoru was losing his mind.
“You’ve been saying this a lot lately, are you sure you’re okay?” Suguru asked, still clutching his arm.
“Of course I’m okay, I just need a good night of sleep and I’ll be as good as new, you’ll see.” Satoru said, giving Suguru a confident smile. Suguru just wordlessly stared at him for a few seconds, a thoughtful look on his face.
“If you say so.” Suguru said at least, smiling all warm and sweet at him, going back to adjusting his gloves. Satoru’s gaze immediately dropped to his hands again.
God. He was so pathetic it was starting to become a little embarrassing. Satoru cleared his throat, struggling to get his mind to cooperate.
“Hum. Sooooo… you were telling me about…”
“... My tattoo flashes.”
“Right! Yeah, c’monnnnn— tell me more!”
“Nah. You weren't even listening.” Suguru said while shoving Satoru’s shoulder lightly, his nose twitching.
“Suguruuuuuuuu, don’t be like that!” Satoru exclaimed dramatically, slumping over his shoulder. “You know I like it when you talk to me about your job!”
“Mhm, you like the gossip about the clients.” Suguru huffed, batting Satoru’s body away.
“Well— I mean, yeah, that too, but I really like hearing you talk about your tattoos, dude!”
“You sure do, dude.”
“Oh my God,” Satoru groaned, shifting his weight slightly onto Suguru as they walked between the equipments, their arms brushing.
“If you really like my tattoo talks, what was I talking about back then?”
Satoru flashed him a smile, doing a thumbs up “Easy! You were talking about your new flashes with the izumumi—”
“Irezumi.”
“Yeah, that. The irezumi style tattoos you’re doing. And then you went on a tangent about how you’re having trouble with the design of a sphinx and— about that, maybe you should try to look for some references in history books? Like, maybe research about the kemetic religion. I mean, I don’t know shit about artistic subjects, but this might help you out, perhaps? I dunno.”
“That’s… actually not a bad idea.” Suguru said with a surprised look, his voice going soft. “Thank you, Toru’. I really appreciate it.
Satoru stopped in front of the water fountain to refill his bottle, staring really hard at the object in his hand. “I mean. Yeah. Sure. No problem, dude. And make sure to show me them when you’re done.”
“Don’t worry dude, I will.”
“Okay, you really need to stop making fun of how I speak.” Satoru said, dipping his fingertips in the water fountain and throwing some liquid in Suguru’s direction, making him laugh out loud as he tried to dodge the attack.
“What? I think you sound cute—”
“I’m being so serious right now!” Satoru shouted louder than Suguru’s laughter, glaring in his direction. “If you keep doing that, I’ll never let you tattoo me.”
Suguru only rolled his eyes, body leaning against the wall. “Yeah, right. Like you’ll ever get a tattoo.”
“I might do it someday, who knows?” Satoru finished filling his bottle, taking a large sip while maintaining eye contact with Suguru. He felt a deep satisfaction when Suguru’s eyes darted down to his neck, following the movement of his throat.
Satoru licked his lips, giving Suguru a smirk.
“And when that day comes, I’ll make sure to schedule it with Sukuna.”
Suguru’s eyes lifted to stare him in the eyes, his expression intense. He slowly stepped closer, taking the water bottle from Satoru’s hands and bringing it to his own lips, taking a long sip.
“You wouldn't do something like that.” Suguru said after he was done, licking his piercings. Satoru followed the movement attentively, giggling and tilting his head to the side.
“And why wouldn't I? Last time I checked, I can do whatever I want.”
“Mhm. That’s true.” Suguru replied, smiling sweaty. The way he was looking at him made Satoru’s cock give a pathetic little twitch in his underwear. Suguru reached his hand out, returning the water bottle to Satoru, their fingers brushing against each other.
“But I know you’d only let me touch your skin. Right, Satoru?”
Satoru’s eyes widened, feeling his cheeks flush at the tone of pure want in Suguru’s voice.
He said it so simply, as if it were a mere fact. As if Suguru knew Satoru belonged to him and only him to mark as he pleased.
And he was so fucking right.
Before Satoru could respond—which would probably be something along the lines of “fuck me”—Suguru turned his back on him, clearing his throat.
“We should start training soon, yeah? It’s getting a little late.”
Satoru let his body give a full tremble, fingers treading into his white hair. He took another large sip of his water, trying his best not to let his voice shake as he spoke.
“Ye’h— Yeah, sure, let’s workout. What have you prepared for us today?”
They ventured deeper into the gym, the pink-haired guy Satoru had seen a few weeks earlier letting them pass when they crossed paths. Satoru nodded at him, smiling when the boy nodded back.
“We’re going to start with some smith-machine squats. We usually end up focusing on the upper part when we workout together, so I wanted to try some leg training with you today. Are you familiar with doing squats?”
Suguru adjusted his bun, his hoodie slipping slightly and exposing his collarbones.
“Yeah, yeah… Wait, what?” Satoru shaked his head, staring at Suguru’s face.
“I asked if you know anything about squats, Satoru.” Suguru said as he led them to a weird looking machine, ignoring the fact that Satoru had gotten distracted again. He began to adjust the bar to Satoru’s shoulder height, checking if the vertical rails were all locked in place.
“Squats? You know? When you bend your knees and lower yourself as if you were going to sit on an imaginary chair?”
The patronizing tone made Satoru roll his eyes, crossing his arms in front of his chest and giving a small pout in his friend’s direction.
“I’m not dumb dude, I know what squats are. And yes, I’ve done them a few times, just never on this thing.” Satoru replied, eyeing the divide with a suspicious face while Suguru added weights to both sides of the bar, offering Satoru a small smirk.
“Great, then you won't have any problems with this exercise. It’s great for beginners and, because we’re doing it on the machine, you’ll notice more stability and safety, allowing you to isolate specific muscles and better focus on developing your glut—”
“Jesus, you sound like a gym teacher.” Satoru interrupted, poking Suguru’s shoulder with a finger. He let out a loud laugh when Suguru swatted his hand away with a groan.
“That’s enough, you little minx. Now get your ass back there, you’re doing the first rep.”
“Wait— me? But I just told you I’ve never used this thing.”
“Dont’ worry, I’ll help you.” Suguru said, giving Satoru a once-over, the smirk on his face only deepening. “Unless Mr. Smarthy-mouth is afraid of a little beginner’s exercise? Is that it?”
Although Satoru felt his cheeks turning red, he couldn’t help but match Suguru’s energy, letting out a small chuckle as he pushed Suguru’s body lightly with his shoulders before stepping under the bar, letting it rest behind his neck.
“C’mon then, teacher. Tell me what I need to do.”
Satoru watched Suguru’s reflection in the mirror, noticing a faint blush just barely coloring his cheeks.
“Hellooooo? Earth to Suguru? Are you going to tell me what to do or what?”
Suguru coughed awkwardly, walking to the side of the machine. Satoru could see his hands clenching at his sides.
“Anyways… I’ll release the safety catch so you can start, you just need to perform the movements of a normal squat, the only difference is that you’ll notice the bar will help you keep your spine straighter. If you feel any lower back pain, just let me know.”
Satoru hummed, wrapping his hands firmly around the bar and keeping his elbows straight. He began the exercise, momentarily regretting his decision to wear shorts for today's workout, feeling like his legs were far too exposed.
He wasn’t struggling with the weight as much as he thought he would, but he could still feel his muscles contracting with the effort. He let out a quiet hum, his mind slipping into that familiar silence that came whenever he managed to focus on an exercise, his eyes closing to concentrate better on the movement—
—only for him to nearly drop the bar at his feet, his neck almost breaking in the process.
One of Suguru’s hands rested on Satoru’s lower back, squeezing the muscle every time his body dropped. Satoru gasped, blinking his eyes open.
“Try to keep you back straighter. Push your glutes back further.” Suguru’s voice instructed from behind, making Satoru let out a small and shaky okay in response. He kept his gaze locked on his feet, trying to do what his friend asked of him. When he felt Suguru remove his hand, he almost breathed a sign of relief.
But then something even worse happened.
Satoru felt large hands wrap around his waist, guiding his movements. Suguru moved even closer, stealing all the air from Satoru’s lungs when he felt his waist being squeezed.
“Yeah, just like that. Give me one more.” Suguru said lowly, his hands massaging the sides of Satoru’s waist.
Satoru dropped his gaze to the floor, unable to hold back the small whimper that slipped from his throat. He desperately hoped Suguru would interpret the sound as exhaustion and not because Satoru was almost cumming on his fucking pants like a teenager.
He clumsily secured the bar on the rack, lifting it from his shoulders and straightening his spine. His breathing was heavier than usual, his face burning with heat. Sugar’s hands finally released him, and Satoru shakily stepped away from the machine, looking everywhere except into Suguru’s eyes.
“You did so good, Toru’. Does it hurt anywhere?” Suguru asked, his tone so gentle that it nearly turned Satoru into a puddle on the floor.
“Y-yeah. I mean— no. No, ‘m fine. Doesn't hurt.” Satoru said weakly, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. Suguru raised his hand, brushing his knuckles against Satoru’s flushed cheeks, making his breath hitch.
Suguru had never touched him like that. No one ever had. This was too much for his poor heart.
“Are you sure you’re feeling okay? Your face is really red right now.” Suguru asked with a heavy voice. When Satoru didn’t respond, he brought his fingers to Satoru’s chin, making him slowly look up at him.”
“C’mon, Toru’, talk to me. What do you need, mm?”
I need you to fucking kiss me. Make me yours.
“I— ‘m fine, Suguru, really.” Satoru replied weakly, swallowing the saliva that had pooled in his mouth, watching Suguru’s eyes inspect every inch of his face. He leaned back slightly, clumsily crouching down and picking up his water bottle with shaky hands, offering Suuguru a weak smile.
“I just need some water to cool off.” He said, downing the bottle only to realize it was already empty. “Well, shit.” Satoru grumbled, making Suguru let out a small laugh as he took the bottle from his hands.
“I’ll get you more water, okay? Stay right here.” Suguru said, turning his back to him and heading toward the drinking fountain, disappearing from Satoru’s sight.
What the fuck just happened?
Satoru let out a shaky sight, running his hands through his sweaty hair and slumping forward, his body leaning against the machine. He stared at himself in the mirror, wincing when he noticed just how red his face was, the flush spreading all the way down to his neck.
Fuck. Satoru doubted he could stay sane until the end of the day. He would probably die before the workout was even over. Or fall to his knees in front of Suguru and beg him to touch him again. Or maybe both.
He squeezed his eyes shut, taking another deep breath. He was feeling so pathetic and so hopelessly in love, he genuinely couldn't tell whether he liked or hated the feeling. He could feel a headache coming.
Just when he swore his day couldn’t get any worse. He felt a nudge on his shoulder delivered with too much force, followed by the most irritating, nauseating voice on the face of the Earth.
“Satoru-kun? Fancy seeing you out here.”
Satoru felt his stomach twist in disgust, a sharp throb of pain blooming behind his head. He opened his eyes slowly, turning around and praying he was just experiencing some sort of auditory hallucination.
At that moment, he wondered what he had done to God. What kind of deity he had pissed off in his past lives? What the hell could he possibly have done to deserve running into Naoya Zenin, of all people, in the middle of the gym?
What the fuck is he doing here?
“The fuck are you doing here?” Satoru shot back, sounding more like an accusation than a question. He could tell he wasn't doing a very good job of hiding the disdain on his face, and frankly, he didn’t care. He just wanted to be alone.
Naoya gave him the ugliest smile Satoru had ever seen in his life, resting his forearm on the equipment next to him in what seemed like a failed attempt at being charming.
“Hi to you too, Satoru-kun. I just started at this gym today. I wanted to start being a little more fit, y’know? Take better care of my body.” He said, looking him up and down in a way that made Satoru cringe. “Who would’ve thought I’d find you here, huh?”
Satoru fought the urge to slam his fist right into that ugly, smug smile. This was a good gym, he reminded himself. He liked it here. He couldn't afford to be expelled for public violence.
“Yeah, right. What are the odds.” Satoru gritted out, forcing the fakest smile he could manage. His jaw tightened as Naoya stepped closer.
“What a nice coincidence, don’t you think? Or maybe it’s pure fate that we met here. How does that sound, Satoru-kun?”
Satoru didn’t even bother stopping himself from rolling his eyes. Naoya had always been annoying, but lately it felt like he was putting in double the effort to be around Satoru at all times.
And was he flirting by any chance? Fucking disgusting.
“Sounds like you’re being delusional. And I already told you to call me Gojo. You’re my employee, act like it.” Satoru said coldly, not even sparing Naoya a second glance as he started scanning the gym, trying to see Suguru somewhere in the crowd.
He just wants to get out of there.
Just when he thought he saw Suguru turning a corner—he couldn't tell for sure, perhaps the lack of his prescription glasses was really worsening his vision— he felt Naoya’s hand closing around his wrist, making Satoru snap his attention back to him.
The fucking audacity this guy has.
“Don’t be like that, Satoru-kun. I’m just trying to be friendly.” Naoya smiled, not budging when Satoru tried to pull his hand away. “Maybe we should work out together! You know, make the most of the moment since we’re both here. What do you say?”
Before Satoru could react—which, let’s be honest, would probably be in the form of that punch he’d be dreaming about—he felt a warm present step up behind him. A larger, stronger hand wrapped around his wrist, effortlessly breaking Naoya’s grip on him.
He glanced over his shoulder and found himself face to face with Suguru, his friend glaring at Naoya with an anger Satoru had never seen before.
“Sorry, but he already has a workout partner.”
Satoru tried to suppress the shiver that ran down his spine at the deep tone that came from Suguru, his warm breath lightly brushing his cheek.
He turned just in time to see Naoya smile faltering, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. For a brief moment, he looked like a child who had just lost his favorite toy. He stared at Suguru before wrinkling his nose in disgust.
“And you are?”
“None of your business.” Suguru replied. Satoru’s eyes widened as he turned back to him, studying his face. It looked neutral, calm even, but he could see it in the slight curve of his mouth and the tension in his jaw that Suguru wanted to punch Naoya just as badly as Satoru did.
“Now, if you’ll excuse us, me and Satoru are a little busy right now.”
Suguru wrapped a hand around Satoru’s waist, his touch gentle but firm as he turned him around. Naoya didn’t seem satisfied with that half-answer, weaving around and stepping in front of them again, a snarl twisting his mouth.
“Hey! I wasn't done talking to him!”
Maybe he had raised his voice on purpose, hoping to embarrass Suguru. A few people turned to watch the commotion, whispers beginning to spread through the gym.
Suguru remained calm, his composed expression never wavering as he slowly looked Naoya up and down. He smiled when their eyes met, tilting his head slightly to the side as if in pity.
“I’m afraid you’re already finished, yes.” He stepped forward, lowering his voice so that only he and Naoya could hear, his smile never faltering. “And if you bother Satoru again, I swear to God I’ll punch you in the face.”
He turned his back on him and guided Satoru away before Naoya could respond, leaving him standing motionless behind them. Neither of them noticed the string of curses he spat under his breath.
All of this remained in the background for Satoru, just a small white noise compared to the thunder of blood roaring in his ears. They stopped at a quiet corner near the windows, the cool wind blowing through them and delivering some much-needed air to Satoru. It took a while for him to realize Suguru was talking to him, his mouth moving agitatedly.
“... ‘m sorry I’m late, Satoru. I got your water, but then I noticed a commotion at the reception and went to check it out— apparently a fitness brand is partnering with the gym today and they’re giving some free samples of this creatine gummies that taste like green apples or something and… Hey, Toru’? You okay? Are you listening to me?” Suguru said, practically vomiting the words out.
His hand was still gripped around Satoru’s waist, and they were standing way too close to each other—closer than they’d ever been before. Satoru tried to answer Suguru’s questions, tried to say anything, really, but all his traitorous mind could conjure up were images of Suguru pressing him against the windows and finally kissing him.
He wondered what Suguru’s mouth tasted like, what kind of kisser would he be? Would he be the gentle type, slowly opening him up? Or would he demand surrender from the beginning with a hot, bruising kiss? Would he grab Satoru by the neck and mark him from the inside out with just his pierced tongue?
Suguru let out a worried sound when Satoru didn’t respond, cupping his red cheek and pulling him closer.
“Doll, are you feeling okay? Talk to me, please.” Suguru said, stroking his face. His thumb was dangerously close to Satoru’s lips, and he fought the urge to suck it into his mouth.
“I… I’m fine, Suguru, really. I just got a little overstimulated back there, that’s all.”
“O-oh. Oh, yeah, fuck. Sorry, Satoru, I’m touching you like this and—” Suguru's hands trembled slightly before he let go of Satoru and stepped back, nearly stumbling over his own feet. Satoru let out a small sound of discontent and, without a second thought, grabbed the front of Suguru's hoodie, yanking him close again.
“No! No, it’s not your fault. You— You don’t have to worry.” Satoru said, thighing his grip on Suguru when he seemed to falter. Suguru blinked at him, his gaze dropping to Satoru’s hands clutching his clothes and then back to his eyes.
“Ah. Okay then. Sure. That’s… that’s good to hear.” Suguru said a little dumbly, blinking a few more times than usual. Slowly, he placed his hands around Satoru’s elbows.
“Then… what happened?”
“I just have a bit of a headache. Naoya really knows how to get under my skin.” Satoru said, grimacing at the memory of greasy hands touching his skin.
“Wait, that was Naoya? You annoying coworker you are always complaining about?” Suguru asked, perplexed.
“Yeah, that’s him.” Satoru said, squirming slightly when Suguru’s thumbs brushed against his skin beneath the hem of his sleeve.
“Damn, he’s even more disgusting in person.” Suguru said, and the unexpected insult caught Satoru so off guard he burst into laughter, the sound quickly dying in his throat as a sharp stab of pain flared behind his eyes, drawing a groan from him. One of his hands flew to the bridge of his nose, his eyes squeezing shut.
“Shit— I think I’m going to get a migraine soon.”
He felt cold fingers replacing his, massaging the area lightly, putting just the right amount of pressure.
“You should go home then.” Suguru said, his voice going all soft and caring again. “We can workout some other time. Come on, I’ll walk you to your car.”
Satoru hummed softly, arching in the direction of Suguru's gentle fingers. He blinked lazily, gazing at him through half-lidded eyes. “I didn’t come with my car,” He murmured, feeling like he could fall asleep but also get a boner at the same time if he didn’t hold back hard enough. “I walked all the way here.”
Suguru frowned, his brows knitting together into that cute little crease Satoru always wanted to poke. “You did what?Why?”
“Because the weather was nice? I don’t know, the wind was refreshing or something.” Satoru replied indignantly, pouting when Suguru scoffed.
“Okay, but I’m not letting you walk when you’re feeling like this.” Suguru said firmly, pressing his thumb against the center of Satoru’s forehead before brushing toward his temples. “I’ll give you a ride home.”
He released Satoru’s face and handed him his water bottle along with several small, colorful packets. Satoru barely managed to balance everything in his arms before Suguru laced their fingers together, starting to pull him toward the exit.
It took Satoru a few pathetic seconds to process what was happening, his attention entirely consumed by how perfectly Suguru’s hand fit around his own. By the time his useless brain finally caught up, they were already standing in front of the lockers, Suguru grabbing his backpack with his free hand.
“Wait a minute— What? You’re going to give me a what?”
“A ride home. You said you don’t lie too far from here, right? I’ll take you home so you can get some rest.” Suguru said simply, pulling Satoru toward the doors, the two of them ignoring the receptionist's surprised look at the sight of them walking hand in hand.
Oh, right. Satoru was walking hand in hand with Suguru.
Suguru, on his own free will, is holding Satoru’s hand.
He blushed all over, his voice stuttering pathetically. “S-Suguru, you don’t need to do that. I’m not feeling that bad and— like you said my house isn’t that far.” Satoru tried to say as they crossed the street, the wind now blowing more insistently, making the brown leaves of the trees fly wildly.
They stopped in front of a black motorcycle, a gold dragon decal stretching across its sides. A gust of wind roared around them, making Satoru shiver at the sudden chill, rubbing his hands over his arms. Suguru noticed immediately, reaching for the hem of his hoodie and pulling it over his head, holding it out to him. Before Satoru could even refuse, Suguru gave him a pleading look, gently but insistently pressing the hoodie in his direction. Biting the inside of his cheek, Satoru reluctantly slipped it on, shivering again for entirely different reasons this time.
Seemingly satisfied by the sight, Suguru reached out and drew him closer by the wrist, his thumbs brushing lightly over Satoru's pulse point.
"I know you can handle yourself, but I'd feel a lot better if I took you home. Please, Satoru?"
And there’s no way Satoru could say no to that face, with Suguru looking at him as if Satoru were doing him a favor and not the other way around.
So that was how he found himself sitting on the back of Suguru's motorcycle, a helmet perched on his head and his arms wrapped tightly around his torso. It was his first time riding on a motorcycle, and even though his skull felt like it was about to split open, it wasn't an entirely bad experience. Suguru was a great driver, weaving effortlessly through traffic as the city lights melted into a blur of indistinct colors and shapes.
When they stopped at a traffic light, Satoru pressed his palm a little harder on Suguru’s stomach to steady himself, feeling his abdomen contract with the surprise.
“Sorry.” Satoru said softly in Suguru’s ear, hoping he could hear him over the helmets they were wearing. Suguru simply brushed his hand over Satoru’s, holding him steady.
Keep it there, came the silent order. And Satoru was more than happy to obey.
Soon enough, they arrived in front of Satoru’s penthouse, just in time as his headache became more insistent. He reluctantly got out of the motorcycle, unbuckling the helmet he was wearing and handing it to Suguru after he got off the bike as well, leaning relaxedly against it.
The streetlights glowed gently over Suguru’s face, highlighting the glint in his caramel eyes, his features looking even sharper somehow. Without saying anything, he wrapped his hands around Satoru’s waist once more, placing him between his legs while lightly caressing the small of his back, the juncture of his hips. Satoru let it happen, eyes almost fluttering shut, skin prickling like he was floating out of his body.
“I should’ve known you’d live in such a fancy place.” Suguru teased, a playful smile spreading across his face as he stared at the building in front of them, causing Satoru to scoff.
“Yeah, yeah. Just so you know, I live in the penthouse.” Satoru said with a humming voice, watching with delight as Suguru rolled his eyes, letting out a small tsk.
“Of course you live. Spoiled brat.”
“You love me.” Satoru said, sticking his tongue out playfully. The realization of what he’d said hit him a second too late, the atmosphere shifting into something heavier as Suguru looked at him with a fierce, almost sad glow in his eyes.
“Mhm. I do.”
Satoru breathed shakily, drawing Suguru’s sandalwood scent into his lungs. He fought the full-body shiver that threatened to overtake him at the sound of Suguru’s voice, so sincere and so vulnerable and so raw.
If I told you I loved you as more than just a friend, what would you say?
“You should come in, it’s getting colder.”
Satoru bit his lower lip, not missing the way Suguru’s caramel eyes followed the movement, swallowing hard when Satoru’s canine slipped free from the soft flesh.
“Yeah, you’re right.” Satoru replied, reluctantly pulling away and making a move to start pulling Suguru’s hoodie off. “Let me just—”
“No, keep it.” Suguru said, holding Satoru's wrist and making him drop his hands, looking at him feeling a little lost. Suguru only smiled at him, cupping his left cheek in his hands.
"You look good in my clothes," Suguru said lowly, his voice barely above a whisper, so quiet that Satoru couldn't even tell if he had actually heard it or if his mind had simply imagined it. "You can give it back to me the next time we see each other. What do you think?"
“S-Sure. Whatever you want dude.” Satoru said lamely, feeling like his brain was melting inside his skull.
Suguru snorted, looking endearingly at Satoru and bringing his face closer to his. Satoru gasped when he felt a small kiss being delivered on his right cheek, his face burning with the sensations of Suguru's lips against his skin. He could feel his cock getting hard inside his gym shorts, fighting the urge to squirm.
“I’ll see you soon, okay Toru’? Text me when you get inside your place.”
“Uh. Yeah. Yeah, dude. I will. Yeah.” Satoru couldn’t seem to make his tongue work properly, the words coming out hopelessly tangled. “Bye Suguru, I um— I’ll see you around.”
“Bye, Satoru.”
Satoru walked into his building, the feeling of eyes following his every move making the back of his neck prickle, the sound of his own heartbeat filling his ears all the way from the lobby to the elevator. He slumped against his apartment door, barely managing to unlock it before another wave of agony crashed through his head, drawing a pained whimper from his lips.
He kicked off his sneakers, not even bothering to turn on the lights as he made his way deeper into the apartment, bumping into his furniture. He slumped toward his bedroom suite, blindly searching his desk for his migraine medication before swallowing one of the pills, typing out a quick thanks for the ride text for Suguru.
For a moment, his gaze drifted toward the bathroom. He knew it would probably be better to take a quick shower to wash away the anxiety that felt embedded beneath his skin, but when another sharp pulse of pain made his eyes burn, he turned toward his bed instead. He threw himself onto the mattress with a loud groan, cocooning himself around the blankets. He brought Suguru’s hoodie to his nose and inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with its familiar woody scent.
He blinked up at the ceiling, suddenly feeling a little lost around the edges. Despite the throbbing pain being his eyes, he could feel blood rushing to his groin, the phantom touch of Suguru’s lips still lingering on his skin.
I wish he’d kissed me for real.
What would Suguru’s lips feel like against his own? His piercing would definitely be cold to the touch, but Sastoru would do anything to warm them with his mouth, to spread his saliva all over them.
His cock gave a hard twitch in his underwear, causing him to kick his gym pants off with an exasperated grunt, dropping them somewhere into the floor.
His mind flashed back to the events of that afternoon, remembering exactly how Suguru’s touch felt on his body. He pressed his cheek against his pillow, ashamed to realise that what had him so worked up wasn't the idea of Suguru "controlling" him. Satoru could take care of himself just fine, and he knew Suguru was well aware of that fact.
But Suguru had cared for him anyway with a firm hand on his lower back and gentle words, guiding him away from the stress. He didn’t need to make any effort to get Satoru to relinquish control. His mere presence was more than enough.
“And if you bother Satoru again, I swear to God I’ll punch you in the face.”
He remembered the sharp line of Suguru’s jaw, the penetrating, almost possessive look he shot Naoya’s way… and all of it had been for him. Satoru knew he probably shouldn't find that attractive, but he couldn't help it.
Maybe Nanami was right all along—ignorant jerks like Naoya did have some use after all.
Satoru let his fingers travel across the expanse of Suguru’s hoodie, slowly sliding his hand down to his boxers and lightly caressing the bulge straining against the fabric.
Suguru would definitely be so sweet in bed.
A powerful shiver ran through him, his mind conjuring image after image of Suguru coaxing him into submission with nothing but sweet words and gentle touches, slowly making Satoru surrender to him without putting up a fight.
He slowly lowered his bowers, embarrassed to realise that his cock was already fully hard and twitching, the head slick with a few drops of precum. He wrapped his hand around the base and let out a trembling gasp, finally feeling a small measure of relief. He began to stroke himself slowly, rubbing his hand up and down with gentle strokes, biting his lips to avoid moaning too loudly. He imagined what it would be like to have Suguru’s hands around his cock instead of his own, how the texture would be different, Suguru’s hands more warm and bigger.
Or maybe he’s the mean type?
In the first days after Satoru accepted he was gay, he tried to convince himself that, if he ever got together with another man, he would definitely be the one who tops. It makes perfect sense, doesn't it? He’d always been a dominant person his entire life, reeling in control like he needed air. It would only be fair if he turned out to be the same in bed.
“But I know you’d only let me touch your skin. Right, Satoru?”
The thought quickly died once he realized that one thing had nothing to do with the other. In fact, all of this sounds kind of pathetic now.
Most importantly, Satoru started to realize how sometimes Suguru’s sweet personality gave away to something else… how his smile became more mischievous, his touch firmer, gaze more intense. And sometimes, in the darkness of his room, just like now, Satoru craved these little things. Craved to feel like the object of Suguru’s devotion, to bow beneath him and finally relish in control, thrust that Suguru would never make him hurt.
In a way, Satoru realized he was right—he was indeed a confident person, yes. He was someone who dominated every room he entered with ease, had always been like this and would probably continue to be until the day he died.
But that didn’t change the fact he wanted to surrender to Suguru.
And there is strength in surrender, he supposes. If there was anyone in the world who could make Satoru accept this, it was Suguru.
Satoru paused, reaching over to his desk and opening the bottom drawer, blindly reaching for the old bottle of lube he was sure he’d stashed somewhere there. He shifted back in place after he found it, squirting some cold liquid into his hands. He slowly returned to stroking himself, flicking a little at his cockhead and going all the way down to squeeze at the base, edging himself a little, hot puffs of breath leaving his mouth.
He slipped his lube-filled hand down to his balls, caressing them before descending more, poking a curious finger around his rim. Uncertain of what to do with it, he decided to only circle it around his entrance, cursing softly at the strange feeling.
As he began to get used to the pressure, Satoru inserted the tip of his wet middle finger inside, gasping loudly—it wasn’t a bad feeling exactly, but it definitely wasn’t good either. He withdrew his finger slowly, returning to circle outside a little faster, his other hand massaging his cock lightly, barely keeping the stimulation there.
“You did so good, Toru’. Does it hurt anywhere?”
He pushed his finger back when his body relaxed, this time going a little deeper, feeling his walls contract around the intrusion. The sensation felt slightly better this time, causing him to let out little sighs of pleasure, circling the finger, dragging it out, pushing it back in, repeating the motion.
He wondered how Suguru would react if he could see him like this, wearing nothing but his hoodie while fingering himself. A little bit of droll collected on his pillow, his mind filling with images of Suguru's hands; big, tattooed, powerfulhands, his pretty nails painted in a deep shade of black. Satoru was sure he would feel delirious with them inside him. He grinds down on his fingers at the thought, thrusts turning clumsy as he imagines Suguru between his thighs, smirking as he looks down at him.
"You look good in my clothes.”
“Mhmmm… Fuck—” Satoru mumbled, starting to sissors his fingers faster, moaning openly at the new sensation. His dick was so hard it hurted, his cockhead soaked by now, oozing precum and wetting his lower stomach a little.
Satoru decided then and there that he actually really liked having something inside him. The feeling of his most sensitive spots being touched grew more intoxicating with every passing minute, pleasure building until it was almost impossible to think about anything else. He began moving his fingers around his hole faster, experimenting with the angle as he curled them upward, a startled cry escaping him as an electric sensation shot through his entire body.
What the fuck was that?
He pressed his fingers against the same spot again, harder this time, and felt his eyes roll back into his head, a stream of pathetic whimpers spilling from his lips. He rolled onto his stomach, his limbs feeling as heavy as jelly as he pushed himself onto all fours, lifting his hips into the air. He resumed thrusting his fingers back into himself with all the force he could manage, repeatedly trying to find that sensitive spot as he settled into a sloppy, uneven rhythm.
His cock rubbed pathetically against the mattress beneath him, whimpers pouring into his pillow as the force of his thrusts increased. His mind drifted helplessly to Suguru, imagining him behind him, imagining it was Suguru’s fingers instead of his own.
Suguru would whisper the sweetest little words into his ear, telling him how good he was, how perfectly he would fit around him—
He brought his free hand to his face, pressing the fabric of Suguru’s hoodie against it as he inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with the lingering scent that still clung to it. That was all it took for him to lose himself completely.
Satoru came harder than he ever had in his life, Suguru’s name curling helplessly off his tongue as muffled moans disappeared into his pillow. Tears welled in his eyes from the overwhelming intensity, the pleasure nearly making him forget how to breathe as desperate gasps caught painfully in his throat. The orgasm rippled through every inch of his body, leaving him shuddering violently, his back arching until his muscles ached.
His fingers could barely keep moving through it, continuing to press weakly against that sensitive spot until the last of his strength finally gave out. They slipped free with a wet sound before his entire body collapsed onto the worn mattress, muscles twitching sporadically as the lingering heat slowly drained from his limbs, leaving him cold and shivering.
When he finally managed to gather himself, he pushed unsteadily to his feet, legs weak as he made his way to the bathroom, cleaning himself with hazy movements, barely aware of what he was doing. As the warmth of his orgasm faded, an all-too-familiar emptiness settled back into his chest, the pounding ache behind his eyes slowly returning.
He had never wished more for Suguru to be there with him—to wrap him in his warmth, to care for him, to soothe him through the quiet aftermath while Satoru simply existed in the comfort of his presence.
After returning from his bathroom, Satoru quickly changed his bedclothes, tossing the soiled sheets angrily towards the laundry basket and replacing it with fresh ones. When he finally wrapped himself back in his covers, he was feeling even more tired than before, all the relief from his orgasm gone from his body and mind.
Just as he found a comfortable position on his pillows, his cell phone beeped on his desk. He grabbed the device with a shaking hand and stared at the screen, wincing at the brightness.
Suguru [19:05 pm]
hey Toru, i just got home
i stopped at a restaurant nearby to get me some teriyaki ramen
how are u feeling?
Like I’m gonna die if you don’t fuck me soon enough.
Satoru [19:06 pm]
good
my head is kind of killing me
but i’m okay
got yourself some good food?
i’m jealous
Suguru [19:06 pm]
i'll take you out to eat here one day
they have some really tasty daifuku,
i'm sure you'll like it
Can I pretend we are on a date if we go?
Satoru [19:06 pm]
✦ Garfield with a thumbs-up sticker ✦
sounds like a plan
you’re paying btw
Suguru [19:06 pm]
brat
He chuckled weekly, imagining the annoyed look Suguru must be making right now. He felt a fresh wave of pain bang on his head, his eyes watering slightly from the discomfort.
Suguru [19:07 pm]
you should go to sleep u’ know
so u can feel better in the morning
Satoru [19:07 pm]
yeah
i just lay down
good night Sugu
thanks for the drive again
Suguru [19:08 pm]
dw
you would do the same for me
Satoru [19:07 pm]
in a heartbeat
Suguru [19:08 pm]
i know
sweet dreams Toru
sleep well
Satou placed his phone on his desk again, letting his fluffy blankets engulf himself completely. He curled up on his side, bringing Suguru's hoodie to his face one more time, breathing in the last of Suguru's scent that remained on the fabric, as if that was enough medicine to end his pain.
He wasn't just talking about the headache.
‧· · ─ ·୨🀦୧· ─ · ‧·
"Shit. Open up, you fucking fucker!" Satoru exclaimed irritably, struggling against the instant noodles package, his fingers clawing uselessly at the seal. He grabbed his chopsticks and pierced through it, ripping off the remaining plastic angrily with his mouth and taking a large spoonful of the food, groaning at the taste.
His Agumon-shaped clock that sat above his kitchen cabinets read well past midnight. It was already Friday.
He had just returned from one of the most stressful days at work so far; the company had closed an unexpected deal with a major client, forcing all employees and departments to bend over into a crazy schedule to be able to deliver all the projects on time. Satoru had worked like a madman for the past week, skipping meals frequently and barely sleeping. Seeing Naoya everyday only made everything worse.
His poor father must have noticed he was more stressed than usual—probably noticing the dark circles under his eyes—and convinced him to take the next week off, so hopefully the next few days should be a little kinder to him.
But the worst part of all of this was that, with everything going on at the company, he hadn't been able to see Suguru at all, and he missed him. He missed him so much he felt like he might even cry a little.
They still texted all the time, but it wasn't enough. Satoru missed talking to him in person, laughing at their antics. He missed Suguru's warm smile, his deep, gentle voice, missed the way Suguru looked at him, the way he touched him.
His mind had been a mess ever since, not just because of the overtime he'd been putting himself through, but because he couldn't stop trying to rationalize the events of that day. Well, actually, he couldn't care less about why Naoya had acted the way he did, but he couldn't stop replaying everything Suguru had done for him.
He couldn't exactly prove it, but something told him that Suguru had acted that way around Naoya not just out of protectiveness, but because he had been… jealous of him? Maybe?
Naoya was disgusting and all. Just the thought of someone thinking they could be a couple made Satoru feel fucking sick to his stomach. But the idea of Suguru being jealous of him? Of being possessive of him?
That was a fucking power trip for Satoru.
Because if Suguru was that jealous, then maybe—just maybe—there could be a chance that he also likes Satoru, that maybe Satoru isn't alone in this, that all this whirlwind of feelings and the desire to be close to Suguru isn't something only he is experiencing.
But then, Satoru shouldn't be going around being this confident, right? Because what if he's wrong? What if this is just how Suguru acts around people he's very close to? Just how he is in a friendship?
What if this is all Suguru feels for Satoru? Friendship? Or even worse, what if Suguru already had feelings for someone else, what if there was no place in Suguru's heart for Satoru to even try to fill it?
That Hiroshi guy they'd met at the gym a few weeks ago popped into his head, memories of the way he'd lingered around Suguru like a plague. He was probably just waiting for the first chance to ask Suguru out.
And the worst part? There was a chance Suguru might say yes. If not to him, then to someone else.
All this duality in his feelings was driving Satoru crazy. He knew that if he kept going down this line of thinking, it wouldn't be long before he spiraled into a whirlwind of self-deprecating thoughts, and the last thing he needed right now was a mental breakdown on the first day he'd had off in a long time.
Satoru stared at his food, feeling his hunger fading with each passing second. Still, he forced himself to eat another bite, chewing slowly as he stared blankly into his dark, lonely apartment. His wet hair dripped tiny droplets of water from his previous shower onto the marble kitchen countertop, emitting small plopping sounds that harmonized with the howling of the wind outside.
The weather had worsened even more these past few days, an imminent storm seeming to be slowly gathering over Tokyo, ready to descend at any moment. Darkly, Satoru thought it reflected perfectly how he felt inside.
Snapping out of his thoughts, Satoru let out a loud groan and hit his head on the marble countertop, instantly regretting it when pain radiated throughout his skull from the impact.
Stupid feelings. Even stupider heart. He slowly turned his head to the side, throwing daggers at his phone.
At this hour of the night, Suguru had probably already had his chamomile tea and gone to bed, so it wasn't like Satoru could text him and chat for a while to calm his nerves. He could feel his sanity slowly beginning to unravel, the edges of his thoughts blurring until his vision felt hazy with distress.
Maybe if he talked to someone about his feelings, he'd feel a little better.
Yeah. Maybe he really needed to vent to a friend. Urgently. Spill all his insecurities to someone he trusted to see if any of this even makes any sense.
He lifted his head, grabbing his phone and taking another bite of his now slightly cold food. As much as he trusted Nanami, texting him at this hour was out of the question, especially with how much his friend had worked alongside him these past days. Luckily, he'd managed to convince his father to also give him a well-deserved break, so Nanami should be fast asleep in his bed right now. Or maybe in some pretentious bar enjoying an even more pretentious drink. It turns out that being friends with the boss's son also had its perks.
Could this also be considered nepotism?
With his mouth full of food, he sent a quick message to Utahime asking her to call him urgently, grabbing his little bowl of noodles and saving the rest in the fridge for later, heading towards his room right after.
"Sup loser." Utahime's voice rang out over the speaker at the same time he laid comfortably around his covers, phone up to his face.
"Don't say sup, it sounds disgusting coming from you." Satoru snapped back. “Where did you even learn to talk like that?"
"I learned it from you, dipshit."
"So? I'm allowed to say it and you aren't." Satoru could practically hear the curse climbing from his friend's throat, so he quickly stepped forward and blurted out his next words without thinking, "Also, I'm gay."
"..."
"Hello? Utahime?"
“...”
Complete silence. Not even a sound.
“If you don’t answer me right now I swear to Go-”
"Took you this long to find out?"
"Excuse me?" Satoru asked indignantly, sitting up and staring into his closet door with murderous eyes. "What do you even mean by that?"
"Just kidding," Utahime replied, the tone of her voice making it clear she wasn't joking at all. Satoru threw himself back onto his bed with a dramatic groan, bringing the speaker closer to his mouth to make sure Utahime heard his lament.
"You called me just for that?”
“You know what, I’m hanging up—”
“Okay, okay, I’lll stop, I’lll stop! C’mon, how are you feeling? Does anyone else know?"
"I don't know exactly how I feel. It's not a bad feeling per se, but it's something new about me that I'm not used to."
Utahime hummed on the other end, waiting for Satoru to continue.
“And only you know so far. It's not like I'm embarrassed to admit it to others, but I wanted to better understand what I'm feeling before I openly admit it to the world, you know? Does that make sense?"
"Yeah, it makes perfect sense. I felt the same way when I was in highschool." came the reply from the other end of the line, Utahime's tone slightly soft. “Thanks for telling me."
Satoru hummed in response, hearing a bustling sound coming from the other end of the line, indicating Utahime was probably snuggling into her bed as well.
"Now, if you don't mind me asking, how did you find out?"
"I— well... I think I have a crush on a guy from the gym."
"Ooooh, who is it?" Utahime asked excitedly, her tone making a small smile tug at Satoru’s lips.
"His name is Geto Suguru. I met him two months ago during one of my workouts." Satoru replied with a sigh, stretching his limbs, trying to ease the tension out of his body. “He has piercings and a really long black hair that's always tied up in a bun. He has beautiful brown eyes and a gentle smile and— oh, and he has a lot of tattoos, too. He works at a studio near Shibuya, and—"
"Jesus, Gojo," Utahime interrupted, chuckling. "You're really down bad for this guy, huh? Out of nowhere?"
"Ugh, I don't knoooooow ‘Hime," Satoru whined, curling up at his side and looking at the landscape outside his window. He could see the city lights shining, the clouds moving quickly across the sky due to the strong wind, a few lightning bolts appearing here and there.
"He's drop-dead gorgeous, you know? I never thought I'd call a man handsome before, but he is. Like. So much it’s kind of annoying. He's also very… nice to me.”
“Shoking.”
“Shut up,” Satoru grumbled, rolling his eyes. “I've seen him almost every day since we met, and I haven't gotten tired of him yet. Not even a little bit." He went on, groping through the covers until he found Suguru's sweatshirt, his faint cologne barely lingering on the fabric.
"You know how quickly I get bored of people, don't you? How hard is it for me to become truly interested in someone? I feel like everything is different with him. I've never felt this way before. It's like I'm addicted to him or something."
Utahime listened to Satoru's rant quietly, only letting out a small hum here and there.
"It sounds like you're serious about him.”
Satoru felt his throat go dry, his tongue nervously running over his lips. “Yeah. Yeah, it does.”
“Do you think you're in love?"
"Honestly?” Satoru took a deep breath, suddenly feeling more melancholic than ever. “If this isn't love, then I don't know what is."
"Wait. I thought you were going to like. I don’t know, gag at me or something. Are you being for real? Really?"
He felt his face going a little warm, voice cracking slightly when he spoke again. "Well— I mean, I've never even liked anyone, so it’s not like I know what it's like to be in love. But everything in me tells me that what I feel for Suguru is really serious, so... yeah. I think I'm in love with him."
"...Well, fuck me.”
“Thanks but I’ll pass.” Satoru blinked, playing with the hem of Suguru’s hoodie.
“Fucking shut up that’s not what I meant—”
"Any advice about my first love ever? Mm? How about that?" He sat up on the bed only to throw himself back down again, his skin itching all over.
Utahime sighed, her voice climbing into that high-pitched tone it always took on whenever she got irritated. “Then I think you should tell him. Be open about your feelings."
“No shit, Sherlock.”
“Now why the fuck are you acting like a bitch?”
"I— Sorry, I’m sorry, it’s just… fuck. You’re right, I should talk to him. And that's the problem." Satoru sighed depressedly, clutching the sweatshirt tighter over his chest. "I don't know how to tell him. Or if I should tell him. I mean, I know he's gay too, but that doesn't mean he automatically likes me, right? That would be a really dumb thought to have. And it's not like he knows I'm gay, he probably still thinks I'm completely straight."
“Uh-huh. Yeah. He definitely thinks so.’’
“Amazing Utahime. Care to explain the sarcasm?”
“I was not even being sarcastic.
“Yeah, right.”
“I’m just saying you don’t exactly act straight. I mean, remember that time when you—”
“My GOD. Can you focus on what I was saying? The ‘I don't know how to tell him my feelings’ part? Please?” Satoru was definitely blushing by now, looking around in his bed for things to fidget with only to go back to clutching at Suguru’s hoodie again.
"So what, Gojo? That doesn't mean you have to keep feeling bad like this. You'll just torture yourself like that."
"Ugh, you don't understaaand," Satou whined, kicking his feet and rolling to the other side of the bed in a full tantrum, dragging the hoodie with him in the process.
“Okay, than make me understand, you spoiled little—”
"I've really really really never felt like this, okay? Not only are all these feelings making me sick, but the fear of losing him is making me freak out. I know it sounds stupid, but... I can't sleep, I can't eat properly these past few days. I can't function as a human being because of all this, and you know what scares me the most? It's not the fact that I just discovered I'm gay, or the fact that at some point I'll have to come out to others, or— to my father, for example. My biggest fear is losing him. It's opening my mouth and ending up losing his friendship. It hurts to have feelings for him, but can I even live again if he rejects me? What do I do if I have to move on without him in my life?”
When Satoru finally stopped speaking, he had a few tears in his eyes. He blinked hard, trying to calm himself and fight off the awful urge to cry. On the other end of the line, he could hear Utahime shifting in her bed again.
"Satoru, listen to me." came her friend's voice, her tone comforting but firm, “I know this is scary and I know you're not used to this whole feelings thing, but I guarantee if you speak up about them, you'll feel much better.”
“I don’t know Utahime. What if I—”
“Please shut up and listen to me. It's not worth it torturing yourself like this. The more you bottle up your feelings, the worse you're going to feel, and you don't deserve that, okay? You know you don't deserve that, right? Repeat it to me."
"I— I don't deserve that," Satoru said slowly, his voice a little choked.
"Exactly. You don’t.” Utahime said with a finality. “And if you want my honest opinion, this Geto-guy seems like a great person. You don't need to be afraid of opening up to him.” There was a small pause, her tone going slightly dry. “I mean, it's not like you'll suffer like I did when I confessed my feelings to Mei Mei in college."
Satoru snickered at that, the memories of the first time Utahime had her heart broken flooding his mind. He'd spent almost three months supporting his friend through her various depressive phases, making sure she wouldn't commit some kind of crime in the process.
"Jeez, you're still not over it, huh?"
"If by 'still not over it,' you mean I still don't understand how someone like her rejected someone like me, then yes. I'm still not over it."
For the first time all week, Satoru burst out laughing, his eyes filling with tears again for entirely different reasons this time.
"Shut up! You're not still into her, are you?"
"God, no." Utahime disagreed vehemently, Satoru began to laugh even harder. "I'm serious! She led me on for months just to say that in the end she thought she wasn't ‘that much into girls’? I mean, who says something like that after sticking her tongue down my throat?"
"Ugh, less detail, please. Oh my God." Satoru groaned, shaking his head as if he could erase the horrible image that had just formed in his mind. "But yeah, she was terrible. It's not like I didn't warn you, though."
“Haaah— you know what Gojo, you're sensitive right now. So I'm going to pretend you didn't say that so I don't have to tell you to go fuck yourself.”
"Pfff, you're so full of shit—"
“Plus, I kinda met someone new these last few weeks too, sooooo… Yeah." Utahime said in a sing-song voice.
"And why haven't you told me anything yet? C'monnnnn, spill the beans to me!"
"Ew. You’re such a gossiper."
“Now wait a minute—”
"She's someone I met at work, a new doctor who's working in the room next to mine. She's really cute, has short brown hair and a beauty mark right under her eye that I find breathtaking." she replied, sighing dreamily. If Satoru closed his eyes and concentrated, he could picture Utahime kicking her feet in her bed like a schoolgirl in love. "She has this whole 'I'm too cool to be here' vibe and some dark circles under her eyes that I find really hot and—"
Satoru interrupted her with a laugh, mimicking her words from earlier. "Oh, so you're down bad for this girl, huh? My dear ‘Hime is in loooove~" he said humming, making Utahime groan from the other side.
"Sometimes I forget how much I hate you."
"I hate you too, so it’s okay," Satoru replied, sighing happily. "We should meet for coffee next week, talk a little more about this mysterious girl."
"Mhm, we could go shopping too. I need some new clothes." Utahime agreed, letting out a yawn soon after, “I think I'm going to bed. You should too. God knows how screwed up your sleep schedule is."
"Yeah, you're right. It's pretty late already." Satoru agreed, looking at the clock on his bedside table. 1:35 AM. He really needed a good night of sleep.
"Good night 'Hime." Satoru said, also feeling a yawn forming in his throat.
"Night,” Utahime replied fondly. “Oh, and Satoru?”
“Mm? Yes?”
"Tell him how you feel, okay? I’ll wait to hear how it goes.”
A few minutes later, with Satoru's night skincare already completed and Suguru's sweatshirt serving as a comfortable pajama, he found himself curled up in his blankets again, staring thoughtfully at the small drops of water sliding across his window. The rain had begun to fall slowly over the city, the consistent sound of the drops reverberating over his penthouse roof, creating the perfect sound to lull him into a good night's sleep for the first time in a while.
He could still feel the sensation of Suguru's warm lips against his skin, his firm hands holding him in place. Satoru shivered at the memory, letting a little sad whimper slide from his mouth, sinking deeper into the soft mattress of his bed. He closed his eyes tightly, deciding to focus on only one thing.
He knew what he needed to do. Tomorrow will be the day.
He would finally tell Geto Suguru how he felt.
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