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Suguru is spending a peaceful afternoon at the library when a paper ball hits him in the head. Pissed, Suguru looks up, already knowing who to expect.
Gojo Satoru, of course.
His annoying best friend has no qualms about showing that he is here solely to waste Suguru's time.
"What is it?" Suguru asks, not trying to hide his irritation. "Don't you have anything to study?"
"C'mon, Suguru, you know better than to ask me to study for something a whole week before the exam."
"You're right. I should know better. Now, please get out of my face and let me be, Satoru."
"Suguruuuuu, you didn't even check out the poster I threw at you!" Satoru complains. Suguru says nothing. Instead, he stares at Satoru until he gets the hint and reaches over the table to grab the paper ball and uncrumple it before laying it flat on the table surface.
"Could've saved us both time and done this the first time around," Suguru deadpans and glances at the poster.
"Unlimited Void Halloween Haunted House…Local legend says those who laugh inside the Unlimited Void are both silent and silenced…. This is the corniest thing I've had the displeasure of reading, Satoru. And correct me if I'm wrong, isn't this thing known for some shady stuff happening inside it every year? People still go to that thing?"
"Well, we will be going! All of us. I asked Shoko too, and she said, 'What the hell, sure, ' which I know is a 'yes'. The rest of them are coming too—Nanami, Haibara, Utahime, Yuki, Sukuna—"
"Great, then I don't need to, right? You'll be entertained by all of them."
"No way! Suguru, there's no way we're going without you! You're the heart of this group!"
Suguru rolls his eyes. "Flattery never works on me, Satoru. You should know better than that."
Satoru raises his brow and doesn't have a rebuttal for that. He just continues to stare Suguru down once he looks away to the point that Suguru feels watched. It's unsettling, really, with Satoru's unusual bright cerulean blue eyes watching his every move in silence. The library is mostly quiet, but Suguru's senses zero in on the way Satoru is looking at him.
Sometimes, Suguru likes it. He really, really does. It is all he wishes, because, after all, who doesn't want to be the subject of Satoru's attention? Suguru is more than aware of his feelings for Satoru—the ones that he bottles up every time they threaten to spill over and screws the cap tightly shut in the fear of ruining their friendship.
But other times, the same gaze feels unsettling. Like it is seeing something that most people do not. Like it's leaving behind phantom touches that Suguru feels but doesn't see. Like that gaze of his is stripping all layers of Suguru—clothing and skin—until Satoru can reach his heart and rip it out of him.
And then Suguru mentally slaps himself across the face and moves on with his day.
"Are you scared, Sugu-chan?" Satoru asks, resting his chin on his palm as he looks at Suguru with a knowing gaze. Like he sees something that Suguru himself is not ready to acknowledge. I can hold your hand throughout," Satoru says, breaking into a grin.
"Only if you want a few bones broken," Suguru says, eyeing the hand that he has imagined holding his a couple of times.
Satoru breaks out into a laugh. "So, we're counting you as a 'yes'!"
"I don't think I was given the choice."
"You're right! You weren't," Satoru says, sitting back and stretching his limbs while Suguru rolls his eyes and goes back to his textbook.
"I'm not wearing a costume."
"Come on! I got us Ghostface masks! It's very low-effort, Suguru. Don't be such a stiff old man. Live a little, Suguru-chan!"
"I live plenty, Satoru. I live so much that I feel like I've aged ten years in the last five years that I have known you," Suguru says, shutting his textbook and giving up on education for the rest of the day. He knows that was Satoru's goal with the way Satoru's grin grows even bigger.
This time it's Satoru who rolls his eyes. "Okay, we're leaving. If I sit in this boring library for one more minute, I'll break out in hives," Satoru says, patting his cheeks.
"Maybe you deserve to."
"Suguru! Less snark, more walk!"
"Fine, fine."
Suguru's biggest weakness will always be his inability to say no to Satoru.
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"You've got to be fucking kidding me," Suguru says as he looks at the long queue of people waiting outside the haunted house. And most of the guys are sporting the same Ghostface mask that they are.
"I mean, you guys are such losers for taking the easiest costume," Utahime says, looking them up and down.
"Calm down, you're a zombie nurse playing along with your girlfriend, who's a zombie doctor. Those aren't revolutionary costumes," Satoru says, and Utahime huffs but doesn't take the bait as she usually does. She seems to realise that arguing with Satoru while standing in a long queue will probably lead to nothing good.
He engages in casual conversation with Nanami, who looks as uncomfortable as Suguru but hides it better. Of course, Satoru butts in eventually and proceeds to rile Nanami up, too. It's like Satoru doesn't want peace.
Eventually, after ragebaiting 80% of their friend group, Satoru finally leads them into the creepy haunted house. Since they're a big group, they get to go all by themselves with no strangers tagging along with them.
"This is more of a big deal than I thought," Suguru says, looking at the setup. He had heard about this haunted house, but he didn't know that it was staged at a real house, not some temporary, makeshift one.
"Suguru, you ready?" Satoru asks, cackling as he puts his Ghostface mask on. "Time to scare the fuckers hiding in their little corners," Satoru says, rubbing his palms together conspiratorially.
"You mean people who are doing their job? Don't go too hard on them, Satoru. They're not paid enough for your nonsense," Suguru says, trying to knock some sense into Satoru, who just waves him away dismissively. Suguru huffs and starts following the marked path leading to the ballroom. There were different paths one could take, each having its own theme.
Very quickly, they get separated. Suguru thinks he hears Utahime and Yuki's screams and Satoru's cackles.
Eventually, the music and chaos from the main hall fade behind him, and all Suguru can hear is the sound of his own breath and footsteps against the old wooden floor beneath his feet. Suguru keeps his pace steady, trying to use his phone's flashlight to see what lies ahead for him. The ballroom theme leads to something darker, and the corridors twist in impossible ways with occasional doors creaking open on their own.
He tells himself at every step that this is all fake. Just special effects.
And then he hears it.
Footsteps.
Not his own.
"Satoru? Is that you?" Suguru calls out, annoyed. The moment he stops walking, the other footsteps stop too.
"Alright, I know you want to commit to the act, but it's enough now," Suguru says. Just as he finishes speaking, the faint light of the bulb hanging off the ceiling above him flickers, and he glances up at it. Right then, there is a flash of movement at the end of the hallway. Suguru's heart is in his throat when he flashes the light at the source of the silhouette, only to find nothing.
"Good one," Suguru says under his breath, trying to sound as casual as possible.
Nevertheless, he keeps going, turning a corner into what looks like a dining room and not a ballroom. He's starting to wonder if he's truly lost or maybe entered into another realm because looking around him, it's starting to feel a lot less like a staged haunted house. It looks very real.
He looks around—from the overturned chairs to the long but broken table, the chandeliers with cobwebs clinging to them, and an artificial fog reducing the visibility in the room.
And then, he hears a hiss right by his ear.
Suguru turns around quickly.
"Who's there?!"
There's no one. Or at least, Suguru sees no one.
The thing is, in situations like these, it's always better when there is someone. That way, one would know who's causing trouble.
Suguru's pulse picks up, and he knows….he knows that haunted houses are meant to make visitors feel this way. But, there is something that's just off. Suguru can't pinpoint the problem, but he knows that at one point, he diverged from the path he was supposed to take.
He's not supposed to be here.
So, he decides to look for the door he walked in through. But something darts out from the dark. Very quick. Tall too.
And masked.
The Ghostface stares at him under the light Suguru is flashing at him.
"For fuck's sake, Satoru—"
But before he can finish, the figure lunges at him.
The first hit is on his shoulder. A hand shoves him back hard against the wall, and of course, Suguru isn't defenceless. He's trained in martial arts, so he fights back, shoving the person—likely a guy—in return. But the guy is stronger.
Much stronger.
Suguru opens his mouth to curse at him, to tell him to lay off the roughhousing, but then there's a sharp crack of pain at the base of his skull and Suguru's world goes black.
And the last thing he sees is the Ghostface mask, much like the one he wore until it got lost at one point during his journey to this wretched room.
Then, the darkness swallows him whole.
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"…..Fuck."
It's the first thing Suguru says when he gains back his consciousness.
And then he notices something. Many things, in fact.
One, his wrists won't move. There's something rough and coarse that digs into them when he tries in vain. His wrists are bound by rope.
Two, he's in a different room. On a bed. How did he even end up here?! Fuck, he can't even tell how long he'd been knocked out for.
Three, this is not what he signed up for when he begrudgingly told Satoru he'd go to the "haunted house" with him.
Suguru blinks hard, trying to clear his vision. But it doesn't help that the artificial fog has permeated every room. including the one he's tied up in, and it's also dark. The only thing he can see properly is the man in the Ghostface mask.
"What the fuck is your problem?" Suguru barks out, trying to break out of the ropes. But his shoulder and the back of his head hurt from the blows before, and he winces in pain.
The man doesn't speak. Instead, he comes closer until he's kneeling on the bed Suguru is on.
"Don't come closer."
The man doesn't heed his words. Instead, he lays his hands over Suguru's ankles, slowly working his way up. There is no doubt about what is happening here. The intention is clear, and it leaves Suguru frozen in fear, for the first time in his life. His body feels as though it is locked from the panic setting in, and it takes him a minute to reboot himself so that he can move. So that he could escape.
"Satoru, if this is you, stop. This isn't funny anymore," Suguru says, his voice shaking. The man's mask tilts slightly, as if considering him. But silence prevails.
Suguru pulls harder against the bindings while trying to kick the man away. But it's humiliating how none of his attempts seems to deter the stranger. If anything, he looks amused by it all.
He honestly can't tell if it's Satoru. Because, why? Why would Satoru do this to him? Satoru has to know that Suguru is in love with him, right? It's not like it's not obvious. Their entire friend group knows it.
Satoru wouldn't be so cruel as to do this, right?
Suguru's head spins when the stranger grabs him and flips him onto his front. The ropes around his wrist get tighter, and Suguru hisses in pain.
"Let me go, you bastard," Suguru says, trying to disentangle the rope. But a hand wraps around the back of his head, fingers pressing down on his nape. Another hand sneaks into his shirt, pulling up the hem.
"Stop," Suguru yells, his voice hoarse. He can't see anything with his face pressed into the pillow, with barely any space to breathe. He feels as though he's on the verge of passing out again—like his body is shutting down to save him from the pain that is going to follow. "Stop…no…" he mumbles when those hands go under him to unbutton his jeans.
His limbs feel like lead, and Suguru can't digest the fact that his own body is betraying him like this. Not only is it not fighting back, but it is also making him hallucinate.
Because why? Why does it feel like Satoru's firm hands are touching him? Why can he smell Satoru's cologne? Is his own brain so cruel that he's imagining Satoru doing this to him? Is this a way of coping? Thinking of Satoru violating him?
Why does his body not get the hint that he's not supposed to like any of this? Why does he feel Satoru's touch on his arousal, Satoru's breath on his nape, Satoru's cologne pervading his senses? Has Suguru completely lost it?
"Ah!" Suguru gasps when the stranger's hand strokes his weeping cock, thumb rubbing at the slit on top, and using his precum as lubrication. Suguru wills his cock to go down, to not like this forceful, humiliating treatment. But it doesn't. And as the stranger's hand moves to his ass, Suguru's heart starts racing in fear. And anticipation.
Fuck, his mind and body are on two different tangents tonight. He's not supposed to like any of this.
The hand cups his now-bare asscheek and squeezes it, the grip becoming rougher with every touch. Suguru holds his breath, and his heart is in his throat as those hands run along the curve of his ass before spreading him open. Fear and mortifying anticipation pull Suguru into a temporary paralysis.
The stranger is considerate enough to lube him up, even if it's with Suguru's own precum. He teases Suguru's hole, and it's honestly a weird sensation because he has never had anything else in there other than his own fingers and maybe a toy.
Suguru moans a little when he feels the stretch, and he's lulled into a false sense of calm when those fingers prod gently inside and stretch the tight walls. For some reason, the stranger takes his sweet time fucking him with his fingers.
It makes him think of Satoru.
Those fingers…what if they belonged to Satoru? How fucked up is he to think of his best friend raping him? Would Satoru hate him for thinking of him in a situation like this? Would he be weirded out by the fact that Suguru is fantasising about his best friend sexually assaulting him?
So lost is he in his thoughts that he doesn't notice when the fingers are replaced by something bigger, something more blunt…
"No, no, stop!" Suguru cries out at the intrusion, tugging at the ropes. The stranger bullies his cock inside him, burying it to the hilt. Suguru yanks hard at the rope as pain shoots through him. No amount of preparation could have helped Suguru—especially when no actual lube was used. And gone is any gentleness that was there previously.
His assaulter pins his neck down on the bed, and Suguru has to turn his face to be able to breathe. He tries to look at the guy from the corner of his eye, but his tears blur his vision. "Why are you doing this?" He croaks out between his desperate pleas.
"Don't act like you don't enjoy it, slut."
Suguru goes still when he finally gets a response from the man. The voice is somewhat muffled because of the mask, but…but he can't have imagined it, right? That sounded just like Satoru, if his voice was raspier. That's how Satoru sounds when he has a cold and begs Suguru to nurse him back to health.
Fuck, even at a moment like this, he can't stop thinking about Satoru.
"How dare you—"
"So much fuss from a cockslut who hasn't stopped leaking since I first touched him," the stranger says, chuckling dryly. He starts pounding into Suguru, giving him no reprieve. Suguru's breath is knocked out of his lungs by the rough thrusts, and he has to beg his assaulter to slow down.
Instead of slowing down, the stranger only grabs his cock, leaving Suguru overstimulated from all ends. "So wet and so tight. My perfect slut. I knew you were always hiding under those loose clothes of yours. You've got such a slutty body, and you hide them away and bury yourself in books."
So this guy knows him. He has to know Suguru. This guy is no stranger.
The only name in his mind is Satoru. But how much of it is because Suguru wants it to be Satoru?
"Slow…slow down," Suguru pleads, but his words fall on deaf ears. The guy lifts him until Suguru is on all fours, and starts aiming for his prostate at every thrust. Suguru screams himself hoarse—not knowing how much of it is from pleasure and how much of it is from pain.
"Go ahead, keep screaming. Call for help if you want to. But no one will save you. So yeah, go scream 'Satoru'. See if he comes to your rescue. What do you think he'll do when he comes here and sees you like this?"
Suguru shakes his head vigorously, not wanting to entertain any word coming out of that mouth. But he can't help but think of Satoru being in this room, looking at him, touching him, groping him, and having his way with him. Satoru does have a mean streak sometimes, and Suguru has more often than not thought about it while masturbating in his dorm, feeling guilty about thinking of his best friend that way.
Satoru doesn't even know Suguru would like it to be rough. Both of them are big, tall, beefy men, but Satoru is just a little taller than him. A little bigger. A little stronger, too. And Suguru has thought about Satoru overpowering him one too many times.
"Look at you, whore. You're more aroused. You want Satoru to see you like this, don't you? Legs spread, hole gaping and cum leaking out just to show how used you are? It turns you on when people know exactly how much of a filthy little slut you are?"
"N-no—I'm not…" Suguru tries to fight it, but can he really? What part of anything the man is saying is untrue?
The man spills inside him, filling him up. Suguru starts writhing again, panic rising in him at the man's orgasm. A random stranger just came inside him and Suguru…Suguru is even more turned on. He keeps imagining Satoru not only seeing him like this but also doing this to him. Everything about that just feels right. Only Satoru can drive him to tears, fuck him stupid and call him a dirty slut.
Not this stranger.
Something comes over Suguru at the thought of having another man's cum inside him. He turns around when the stranger leans back and kicks him square in the chest, drawing out a pained gasp. He even attempts to kick the mask off the man's face, but his ankle is caught just in time.
"So you want to play hard to get?"
Suguru can feel the wicked grin through the mask.
"Good, because I like it when you act like you don't want something you've been craving for. Makes it all the more fun when I make you do it anyway."
Suguru shakes his head frantically as the man leaves bites all over his neck, shoulders, chest—fuck, he even sucks hard at his already-sore nipples before taking him inside his mouth. Suguru bucks his hips at the sensation of being wrapped in the wet, tight heat, and despite himself, he comes for the second time that night.
And that's not where it ends. The stranger covers his eyes with his palm before pressing their lips together. Suguru pushes hard against the man, but his wrists are bound to the bed, and the man has one knee lodged between his legs, preventing any escape, leaving him no choice but to open his mouth and let the man fuck his own spend into his mouth. It's pure debauchery, and Suguru would've chuckled dryly at the irony were he not getting raped by a guy who had manhandled him so easily and wrung two shameful orgasms out of him.
Suguru doesn't know when he passed out, but it was somewhere around Round 4. He had given up on fighting back and let the stranger fuck him and be done with it. He'd have to stop at one point, right? And Suguru's body has lost all fight. If he's being very honest with himself, his body had betrayed him the second it got aroused by a stranger groping him against his will. So, he lies there, dissociating while the stranger has his way with him, hoping for the night to end or maybe for it to end him instead.
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"Suguru? Suguru! Fuck, what the fuck?!" He hears panicked voices all around him, and the first thing he notices is that he's fully clothed. Out in the garden. His head is resting against something firm. Somebody is pulling at the skin of his cheek, trying to check his eyes. Somebody is wiping the sweat off his face.
Somebody is desperately calling for him, as though his name were a prayer. It's difficult to reconcile that with the fact that someone called him a whore and a slut just a while ago.
Suguru opens his eyes to blue.
Satoru's beautiful blue eyes are seeped in worry. If Suguru looked more carefully, he might even see tears in those pools of blue.
"Suguru…" Satoru says, trailing off as he brushes his thumb over Suguru's cheek. For a moment, everything fades away, and all Suguru can think about is the same thumb pressing down on his cheek to keep his mouth open for a kiss Suguru didn't ask for.
The flash of memory disappears the next instant, and Suguru sits up in shock. It was one thing thinking about Satoru while he was in there and continuing to think of Satoru in place of that man while being in Satoru's arms. Fuck, he can't help the bile that rises in his throat because of his uncontainable guilt. How is he supposed to look in Satoru's eyes now?
"H…home. Now," Suguru says and clutches his head when a shooting pain strikes him again. He won't be surprised if he has a concussion.
"Suguru, are you sure you don't want us to take you to the hospital?" Shoko asks him next.
Suguru didn't even notice the rest of them there, all of them looking at him with deep concern. "We can…get you checked," Shoko says, keeping her gaze locked with his, as if to make him understand what she meant.
But Suguru breaks eye contact to look at Satoru instead.
"I want to go home."
When he looks at Shoko again, he sees her looking at Satoru with an unreadable look in her dark brown eyes.
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The ride back to the dorms is a silent one. Satoru keeps stealing glances at him, but Suguru looks straight ahead at the road. He can't bear to look at Satoru after everything that happened. From the contact he gathered after finding himself with his friends again, he understood that Satoru was the one who found him and carried him out. Which means that…he must have seen Suguru like that. Ruined. Beyond repair.
He mourns the version of himself, of the world, before the events of the evening took place. He desperately wishes he had stayed back in his room. He can't believe something like that happened to him.
"Suguru, are you—"
Suguru curls in on himself, pulling his legs up and resting his head on his knees, hoping that Satoru would take the cue and stop talking to him. It's bad enough that Satoru's dorm is right next to his. He can't avoid Satoru even if he tried.
Suguru watches the world outside rush past in streaks of colour. It's so strange. Nothing has changed for the world, but Suguru's whole world has been turned upside down. Hell, he can't even recognise the person that stares back at him in the window glass. His reflection doesn't feel his. Nothing feels his.
He feels hollowed out and burdened with a heavy weight all at the same time.
When they finally reach the dorm, Satoru pays the cab driver and looks at him. "Suguru, we're here. We can still go to the hospital—"
Suguru opens the door and stumbles out. Satoru is quick to rush to his side, but he doesn't reach out to hold him. Instead, he just stays by his side as they walk in. No words are exchanged until Satoru opens Suguru's door for him. "Suguru, you'll be okay? I can stay over—"
"No."
"Suguru, please. I—I don't want to leave you alone. Please let me be there for you?"
"Satoru, I don't want you to see! It's…it's bad," Suguru finally cries out.
"Suguru, let me help you get cleaned up at least. I swear I'll be out of your face as soon as you're in bed, tucked in."
"Do whatever. It's not like you ever take no for an answer," Suguru snaps.
He shocks Satoru and himself with that response. He doesn't even know where that came from. Maybe from the vestiges of Suguru's fucked up hallucination, where he believed that it was indeed Satoru. But how can he reconcile that with the Satoru of now, who is worried about him? Whose heartbreak is visible in the look he gives Suguru?
It can't have been him, even if a fucked-up part of Suguru wants it to have been Satoru.
Suguru walks into the bathroom, and hesitant footsteps follow him in there. He lingers at the doorway, waiting for Suguru to undress and get into the shower, and the hesitation on Satoru's face seems uncharacteristic of him. Suguru can't remember the last time Satoru didn't know what to do.
"I'll just stay close, in case you need me," Satoru says quietly.
Suguru doesn't respond. He turns the knob, and the water starts pouring. Suguru stares at the sterile white bathroom tiles in front of him as the water leaves him soaked.
"You want Satoru to see you like this, don't you?"
Those words come to his mind again, uninvited, and Suguru has to squeeze his eyes shut and force himself to breathe. Inhale. Exhale those thoughts out of your head. It wasn't Satoru. It can't be Satoru.
But when he looks up at Satoru, half-lost in thought, for a single moment, it's not the blur of mop of hair on Satoru's head that Suguru sees through the fogged-up glass. It's the Ghostface mask.
Suguru's pulse is pounding in his ears until he can't tell what's real. He blinks once. Then he blinks again. And the vision is gone.
It's only Satoru. His Satoru.
His Satoru?
Suguru grips the wall in front of him, leaning forward to steady himself. Why? Why is his mind playing these wicked games with him? Why is it taking what little safety net he has left and turning it inside out?
How is Suguru supposed to trust his instincts when it shakes up the very foundation of something that has kept him going for the last five years?
"Suguru? Are you okay? Do you want me to—"
"No, I'm fine," he lies. "I'll be out soon," Suguru says, shutting the shower door as if to block Satoru's existence—even temporarily. Suguru needs to get his shit together.
Only if he could tell which version of reality he could trust anymore—the one that his eyes see, the one that his body remembers or the one that his mind begs him to think of.
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When it's over, Satoru leaves, not before making him promise that he'll call Satoru if he needs anything, anything.
Suguru simply nods and says nothing else, but Satoru deems that to be enough and leaves him alone. Suguru then goes straight for the bed and collapses there, letting his sheets pull him into a warm embrace he desperately needs. He doesn't think he can handle anyone touching him just yet, with how fresh everything still feels.
He closes his eyes, begging the night to grant him reprieve and finally grant him a few hours of sleep, just so that he can escape his thoughts.
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5 AM.
Satoru takes the Ghostface mask out of his coat and turns it over to look at the inside. There's blood smeared over the area where Satoru's mouth would have been.
Suguru's kick had managed to land him a cut on his lip, courtesy of the mask. It's a miracle how no one had noticed, busy as they were looking for Suguru, and then when Satoru brought him out in his arms, they were busy looking after Suguru.
Satoru touches his lip and winces. But he can't help grinning either. He loves it when Suguru gets feisty.
Satoru smirks and throws the mask into the bucket along with the clothes he had worn that night. Taking a lighter out of his back pocket, he sets the contents of the bucket on fire, watching it all burn into ashes.
And then, later that morning, when he checks up on Suguru, he mutters sweet nothings in Suguru's ear when his beloved crashes badly, and he gently caresses the wounds he left behind on Suguru.
"Satoru! What have you done?" His mother shrieks when she finds his expensive figurines broken and the pieces strewn all over the floor.
Satoru ignores her and stays put, crouching amidst the wreckage, a serene look on his face as he continues pulling apart the rest of his toys—limited edition imported from overseas. Specially for Satoru. Those special ones are always even more fun to break.
His mother watches in quiet horror as he finishes breaking everything before arranging the pieces properly, sorting them by shape and colour and assembling them again, one by one.
"You…you put it all back together?" His mother asks, confused and terrified by the monster she birthed.
Satoru doesn't look at her when he responds.
"They're better when I can break them and put them back together the way I want them."
Satoru looks down at Suguru, his most beautiful possession yet.
Satoru was the one who broke him. Satoru will be the one who will put those pieces back together again.
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