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˖ ⊹ ࣪ ﹏﹏⛇☃︎﹏﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖
The dawn of Valentine’s Day bathes the school grounds in a soft, golden hue. It's their last year in this crap of a school before college would welcome them, and both of them are not sure if they're gonna miss it or if they're glad to go.
The late winter air is crisp, carrying a faint scent of blooming flowers in the cool breeze and freshly cut grass. The courtyard is filled with the distant hum of students arriving, their voices and footsteps creating a lively, rhythmic backdrop. Maybe a little too lively considering how Suguru Geto isn't this much of a morning person. Yet, he still manages to walk through the school garden with his nicest attitude. He might even say that the courtyard is the actual place he starts waking up to, due to the amount of people picking on him, while the quiet whispering leaves seem to steady his thoughts.
Suguru’s tall, broad-shouldered figure moves with a calm grace while he walk through the school gates. His long hair, half tied into a neat bun behind his head, catches the light as he glances around to find his people. His face bears that slight, gentle smile that’s become his signature: calm, calculated, almost pensive. A sort of expression that almost clashes with the vibe his two companions bring on.
As they might be glued together, this morning too, he walks alongside his close friends, Shoko Ieiri and Satoru Gojo, who are obviously getting a new heated conversation on some topic Satoru is definitely wrong about, but still insists in having the last word. Shoko rolls her eyes, indignation not even strong enough to twist her round and pretty features. She's used to Satoru just as much as Suguru is, and that's why she simply lights herself a cigarette to shut down the conversation.
She offers one to Suguru, uncaring that their annoying friend would complain about the smell, and as for a habit Suguru accepts the offer and keeps her company for a smoke before entering the gates. Shoko starts rattling on about her latest biology experiments, hands gesturing passionately. Suguru listens more than he speaks, content to absorb her enthusiasm, a quiet anchor amid her fervor. He's always spontaneously played the role of the perfect balancing force in his group of friends, and he had always welcomed that role.
Satoru, in contrast, is walking distractedly, not paying any more mind to their conversation. He’s playing Digimon on his Nintendo Switch, oblivious to the world around him. As much oblivious as to almost run straight into a street lamp. He just salvaged himself from tripping ruinously on the concrete, but acted like nothing happened. His pride strengthened by the idea that if he didn't acknowledge his missteps, then nobody would notice them either. Or at least that's what he thought while his two other friends shook their heads in disbelief of how clumsy that lanky-legs boy could be.
Suguru’s gaze lingers on him for a moment, noting his flicker of distraction. It's not unusual for Satoru being uninterested in the world around him, but that morning his steps are a bit overly light and unmindful, a little bit too distant. Satoru’s usual cocky smirk is replaced by an almost absent-minded expression, and Suguru feels that underlying tension, like a faint ripple beneath the surface of a calm lake. It almost looks as if he's intently avoiding to interact with the surrounding, and not as if he's simply unaffected as he always looks to be. But Shoko doesn't seem to have caught the slight change in their friend, and he forces himself not to think too deep into it.
Eventually, a couple of minutes later, they approach the school gate, where students are gathering, greeting each other, and hurriedly rushing to classes to get the best spots... and exchanging gifts, apparently.
Suguru’s thoughts drift as he realises that the 14th of February was not just another common school day, but actually Valentine’s Day. His brows furrow automatically, studying the ambience around him. The ominous day when chocolates and secret crushes are exchanged, when shy confessions float in the air like gentle butterflies... and sometimes get slapped in your face much less gently. All things that made Suguru regret coming out of bed, because he knew already it would be a disastrous day for multiple reasons.
And he gets punched in the stomach by that very evidence as Tsukumo Yuki, his English teacher, approaches him with a composed but energetic smile. She’s a striking woman, envied by many of the girls who'd sell their soul to grow up like her. Her tall, casually elegant figure moves around involuntarily too sensually to be an actual teacher, but surely the fact that she's practically lived almost her whole life overseas is a fair enough justification.
“Geto-kun,” she calls for him energetically, her voice carrying a familiar tone of kindness, yet her sharp eyes that seem to miss nothing are vibrant as she finds something in her bag. A moment later, she’s holding a small, wrapped box of giri-chocolates, her expression both gentle and assertive. Suguru stares at her with a surprised and confused look, as she smiles saying that the gift is just to "celebrate their efficient teacher-student bond". Suguru is left sort of stunned and simply ends up smiling at her awkwardly, yet accepts it anyway because sensei Yuki Tsukumo is a wildly convincing woman and her determined face didn't accept a "no" anyway. The unexpected gesture has caught him off guard, but he doesn't even have the actual time to process it that she's already turning around to give her gifts to another of her favourite students. She’s always been kind to him, and today’s gesture feels like a small reminder of her support... even if maybe that's a little too affectionate.
Especially for the other ones watching, probably. In fact, as Suguru turns back, Satoru slips away, absorbed in his game, his attention still on the Nintendo Switch. Suguru’s gaze flicks towards him briefly, sensing that something isn’t quite right. He is definitely purposely ignoring everything around them, otherwise he would've already mocked Suguru for receiving chocolate from his teacher. Suguru’s instincts prick at him, a quiet warning that this morning’s mood isn’t entirely Satoru’s usual playful self. And he still can't quite understand why is that.
They continue walking, and soon Utahime Iori joins the group with her characteristic energy. Her long dark braided hair cascades down her back, framing her expressive face. She’s a lively presence, her smile bright and affectionate. She waves enthusiastically at Shoko first, as always, her eyes twinkling with fondness. Only then, she turns to Suguru with a constructed smile.
“Geto-san,” she calls out plainly, her voice devoided of the ringing enthusiasm she's greeted Shoko with. And Shoko can't genuinely hide her chuckles at that. Satoru isn't even in the frame, and the last arrived girl doesn't mind because they're not even in the best terms.
Utahime's bright personality is impossible to ignore, and her affection for her friends is clear, yet she shows it very differently toward each of them. She quickly fixes a stray strand of her long dark hair behind her ear, then pulls out a small, intricately wrapped chocolate bar from her backpack.
She approaches Shoko first, holding out the gift with a delicate shy bow, probably both for reverence and to hide her blush. The paper is decorated with cute motifs, and the ribbon is adorably tied with devotion. Shoko’s face lights up instantly, a broad smile spreading across her lips, fond of the girls as ever.
“Here, for you,” Utahime says softly, handing the chocolate bar to Shoko, who accepts it with a delighted grin. The moment is almost cheesy in its sweetness. Maybe too lovey-dovey to be be easily digested by some young chill boy with a delicate stomach for romance, as it gets an utterly disgusted face by Satoru passing by and completely abandoning the group. Utahime’s soft laugh rings out as she embraces Shoko in a gentle hug, both girls sharing a tender, loving moment. Shoko’s smile is soft, almost shy, her usual chill personality giving way to a rare display of vulnerability. Utahime is rarely soft, as much as Shoko is rarely so openly affectionate, yet here they are, cheeks tinged with a faint blush, smiles shy but sincere. It’s a small, intimate display of something pure, something probably meaningful on a day like Valentine’s.
Suguru watches quietly, a tender feeling swelling in his chest as he can't hide his smile while shaking his head. He follows Satoru's walking away steps with his eyes for a quick moment, but soon enough his attention gets recalled by the girls, as their embrace ends. Utahime pulls out another chocolate bar from her backpack, this time a plain, modest package. With a quick, almost dismissive gesture, she places it into Suguru’s hands. She looks at him with a mixture of annoyance and fondness, but she would say that's especially annoyance.
“This is just because my mother obliged me,” Utahime says, her voice bordering on exasperation. “She’s too traditional to accept compromises. So, please, mind that it’s not a felt gift, not in the Valentine’s meaning at least,” she cares to explain, almost as she wants to underline the boundaries of that gift.
Suguru chuckles softly, accepting the chocolate with a polite smile and tucking it in his backpack. “Why didn't I expect anything else?” he teases, holding out a plain, wrapped box of confectionery in return — one he brought himself, just in case. It’s a small gesture, but needed as a formality since their families were close.
She snorts, rolling her eyes as she takes her gift, looking at the plain package with a severely judging look. As if she hasn't given Suguru a just as mild and ugly box. “Tsk. My mother loves you. That chocolate is practically her gift. You should hear her talking about how she’d be proud if she had a son like you,” she laments.
Suguru shakes his head, amused. “Is she trying to set us up?” he teases back, a glint of mocking in his eyes, purposely there to pester her.
Utahime’s face darkens heavily at the joke, her expression turning horrified. Her white complexion nearly matches her hair as she imagines the worst. Her mother would sell her soul just to see her daughter married to someone like Suguru. It surely was a pity that she truly didn't like him and his kind at all. Her voice rises in mock horror: “Don’t you even dare joke about that, dumbass. I hate to think she’d give up a kidney just to settle me down with someone like you. Blah. The thought alone makes me want to puke.”
Suguru’s laugh is warm and genuine at her reply, a soft rumble that seems to lighten the atmosphere. He's not even the slightest offended by that comment because, at the end of the day, he's glad there's no further interest between them. “That’s so harsh of you, darling. We’d surely make a gorgeous couple! Can’t you admit that our school projects always hit top in class?”
Utahime looks at him, her eyes narrowing in disbelief as Suguru keeps his act on with that grinning idiot face. “That’s just because you’re a perfectionist and do ninety percent of the work. That’s not even considerable a SHARED project,” she retorts sharply, indignation palpable in every syllable.
Suguru can’t help but laugh again, a deep sound that resonates in the cool morning air. He would let the conversation die, but Shoko is quick to steal his spotlight, tugging at the girl's skirt to get her attention back.
“Shhh, baby, don't get worked up about nothing. Let him be. So we have more time for our private projects,” Shoko cuts in, grabbing Utahime's chin unceremoniously to get closer to her.
Utahime couldn't help but blush immediately at that unexpected gesture. “...You know I always look forward to our private projects, baby,” she replies, putting all her efforts to keep her controlled facade. Yet, her smirk is a little too much awkward as she underlines that "baby" to stand her ground.
Fortunately, the tension is broken from the almighty voice outside the cheesy frame.
“You're disgusting,” is the simple, harsh comment Satoru allows himself to share, feigning nonchalance in his tone.
Though, he was all but nonchalant that morning, especially after witnessing who knows how many people hitting at his best friend already in just like fifteen minutes into the Valentine's Day. And Suguru noticed his moods first, as always. Suguru always noticed, and that was what Satoru hated the most. Because he was so damn good at understanding him that it felt unfair. Especially when he clearly understood yet did absolutely nothing about it if not fuel his bad moods.
“You're still here? Thought you had left. Cat got your tongue?” Suguru joked, trying to catch his attention somehow. He expected Satoru to take the bait and bite back at the tease, but he received only an annoyed look in reply.
It takes Satoru a certain effort to ignore the provocation, but he still manages to. And that's completely unlikely him, but his pride is too strong to waver. Satoru would always pick provocations and double them up, bite back twice as hard, and would also very likely end up winning them — of course, not because of better arguments, but because Suguru lets him in the end. Still, that doesn't seem to scratch his brain at all. “Just tired of this day already,” he simply says finally.
His best friend seemed in a too good mood, and that was making Satoru feel even worse.
He looked like he was too distracted to actually pay attention. He frowned at that reply, surely realised something was off, but still got lost in distant thoughts, distant laughs, distant everything, while Satoru walked away to rest his back against a tree, waiting for the time to pass, pretending to be uninterested. Though, Suguru is sure he's caught him glancing at them with the corner of his eyes, even for a quick second.
There’s definitely something strange about him today, something subdued, something darker lurking beneath his nonchalance. Satoru’s mood is off. It’s subtle, but Suguru senses it because he can read him too well. The way the boy’s shoulders are tense, the hint of distraction in his gaze. He’s walking in shadows, deliberately distant from the others, like he doesn’t want to be fully present. Suguru’s brow furrows slightly again, knowing that something is bothering him beneath that calm exterior. But yet not aware of what.
Whatever about Satoru that morning sounds utterly odd. Everything he's done is so not Satoru, and even if what he said might fit him, the way he said it was completely off. The mood swing was palpable since they arrived before the school gate, at least to Suguru. Before that, Satoru was babbling and ranting as always, touchy and annoying as usual. But everything ended as they stepped next the college garden and met other students. Suguru's mind begins analysing the run of events and Satoru's shift, but his wave of thoughts gets interrupted quickly.
Before he can even voice his concerns or reach him to ask what’s wrong, another lively voice cuts through the air, shouting a “Wait for me guys!!” that can't be ignored. It’s bright, cheerful, and impossible not to hear, as the whole courtyard's attention shifts to them for a moment. Unexpectedly, Haibara Yu has finally returned in Japan.
“Geto-san!!” Haibara’s voice rings out again as he runs toward them, a wide smile plastered on his face, his energy spilling over in every step. The boy’s youthful, exuberant presence instantly lifts the mood, breaking the slight tension hanging in the air.
Suguru’s lips turns into another smile at the sight of him. “Haibara, you’re back?” he greets, genuine surprise enfolding in his tone. His smile is warm, and he steps forward to meet the boy. Haibara had been abroad for three months straight, studying in Europe, but Suguru isn't sure if Haibara ever mentioned the exact date of his return, or if he's been just too distracted to actually remember.
Haibara beams, eyes shining with excitement. “Yes! Came back just in time for Valentine’s day,” he chuckles as he takes his time to greet Shoko and Utahime, too. Then he focus on the taller boy again. “Brought back something for you,” he says, extending a beautifully decorated box of assorted chocolates, a gift from a foreign brand Suguru doesn’t recognize.
Suguru’s heart softens at the gesture. This time, it’s clear that Haibara isn’t just giving a gift out of obligation, this is heartfelt. Suguru takes the box, surprise and a little awkwardness can't hold back his smile anyway, as he ruffles Haibara’s hair affectionately. “Boy, you’re too cute to handle,” he murmurs the praise, a quiet admiration in his voice. “Y’know that, right?”
And he's too good at praising people, Satoru thinks.
There's no mystery in why Haibara’s face immediately blooms with a wide smile, cheeks flushing pink. “I admire Geto-san a lot,” he whispers shyly, his words small but sincere. Being one year younger than him, Haibara has more often than not looked up at Suguru for many things. He's helped the young boy study multiple times and he's given advices here and there, even about stuff not related to school. They use to chat quite often, but Suguru still didn't expect chocolate from him. And, worst of all, being foreign chocolate he couldn't even tell if that was a simple friendship gift or what.
He tried not to get swayed by that thought at all, as he gently pats Haibara’s head to thank him, a gesture of reassurance and affection. “You can call me by my first name, I told you,” he says softly, his tone tender. They’ve known each other for a good year now, and Suguru’s respect for Haibara is genuine, more like a trusted sibling at least. And Haibara looks more like a well educated puppy than an actual younger brother, especially when he nods with his big eyes as if whatever Suguru said was godsend.
“Thank you, by the way,” Suguru adds, bowing his head slightly. “I appreciate the gift.”
“Glad to know! I hope the flavour is good. People in Europe all recommend this brand! Seems chocolate is pretty high quality there… oh, I have so many things to tell y'all about it!” Haibara bubbles over, his enthusiasm contagious as he finally starts referring to the whole group.
Suguru can’t help but laugh softly, feeling genuinely happy for a moment, more because Haibara way of being enthusiastic is fun without efforts. “It's fine. You know if I can't eat something too sweet Satoru will gladly steal it,” he says. It is spontaneous, not planned in any way. Because Satoru was genuinely always on top of his thoughts without him to even realise that. But then, on second thought, he hopes that would at least attire Satoru back into the conversation. Because it's been only fifteen minutes since he's gone quiet and Suguru already misses him a little.
Yet, the taller boy remains silent, watching everything from a distance, his expression unreadable, as if he didn't even hear the joke. Suguru can barely catch a glimpse of his best friend's sharp eyes. And those piercing, darkening blue orbs make him feel a pang of concern, for the first time since long.
Shoko, always perceptive, breaks the moment with her easy, infectious laugh. “He may steal your sweets, but you’re stealing hearts out here,” she teases Suguru, her voice light and mocking as she pokes an elbow into Suguru's side. “Man, is that your third chocolate of the day? We haven’t even stepped into the building yet.”
Suguru shrugs, trying to hide the faint discomfort that’s crept into his chest. He’s not proud of the attention, not proud of the way Valentine’s Day seems to spotlight him so suddenly. He’s always preferred to stay in the background, blending into the crowd, unnoticed. Yet now, with all these gestures and gifts, he feels exposed, vulnerable even, because he kinda hates being the talk on someone else's tongue.
He concludes that joining the basketball sport club wasn't a good idea after all, because too many people knew him now. It was true that he had always been sort of famous in his classes, especially because of his good grades. Though, only with the start of this scholastic year, and the entering of the basketball club, it seemed people had started noticing he was also good looking, aside from intelligent.
He rolls his eyes subtly, not feeling the need to respond to the tease. But Shoko had different plan than to let him live, apparently. She's always had a knack for pestering him mercilessly, especially when Satoru wasn't doing his part already. Suguru often asked himself why that has to happen to him. Very possibly, the answer was easy, and he fully well knew it was because teasing Satoru the same way meant having to deal with a butthurt, angry, upset child for days.
Suguru didn't mind the tease much, instead. He was constantly biting back anyway. At least normally. But that day doesn't feel normal at all, so he can just glare at Shoko as she keeps mocking him. “Unbelievably enough, I witnessed even Tsukumo sensei gifted him chocolate when he entered the gate,” Shoko adds, blatantly stirring the curiosity of those who weren't there at the time the ‘event’ happened. Her voice is light, amused, and a little mischievous, but her eyes spark with genuine amusement.
“TSUKUMO SENSEI WHAT??? Isn't she like—what—ten years older than you???” Utahime yells her question loud enough to make too many students glance at them with curious gossip-hungry stares. Her voice full of shock and eyes wide as saucers didn't help at all. Her reaction is an authentic mixture of disbelief and incredulous surprise that makes Suguru smile faintly for the comedy of It, despite feeling like wanting to bury himself at the moment.
Shoko laughs loudly at her reaction, the sound bright and carefree. She’s clearly reveling in the moment, knowing exactly how to push Suguru’s buttons. “I mean, Suguru, I didn't know you had a taste in women, in fact,” she teases, playfully patting his back with an infamous grin. The light-heartedness is contagious for the rest of the group, but Suguru's eyes narrow above a tight twisted smile that seems to clearly say “You'll regret this one”.
Though, he doesn't even try to reply out loud, because Nanami does it for him, of course. The blond man expression immediately shifting to one of disappointment and judgment, even if he's just approached them. His neat, composed demeanour contrasts sharply with the boisterous energy of the others, and his brows furrow slightly as he glares at them with a calm but stern look.
“That's unacceptable. You cannot trust institutions anymore nowadays,” Nanami comments, shaking his head as he adjusts his glasses with a precise, analytical gaze. His tone is measured, disapproving, his words carrying a weight you wouldn't expect by a barely seventeen years old boy. He's definitely too serious to be hanging out with that group of deranged idiots.
Suguru sighs inwardly, feeling the familiar weight of the conversation pressing down on him. He’s already tired of being the centre of attention, especially when it’s fuelled by such trivial things he's definitely not interested into. He wonders how Satoru normally manages to like this, how he can thrive in the chaos, basking in the spotlight with such ease. Suguru, in contrast, finds it overwhelming, like the walls are closing in when the spotlight is too bright. He's always been a little different from his friends about that. And now that Satoru is not the centre of attention as everyday, he starts feeling a heavily oppressive weight he doesn't know if it's about having everyone's eyes on him or missing Satoru. The correct answer, though, might be both of them.
“C'mon, Nanami... You're so unnecessary pedantic,” Suguru finally replies, his voice gentle but with a hint of exasperation as he tries to shrug the weight of the situation off of him. “Tsukumo sensei is just a lively person, she did it for fun. You could never understand such mysterious things,” he teases him a little in response. Nanami’s expression doesn’t change, but his eyes sharpen slightly. Suguru’s tone is careful, trying to deflect the conversation, to keep it light.
“Besides, it was just giri-choco, and she didn't give it just to me, but to all the students who ranked good in her classes this semester,” Suguru adds, emphasizing that it’s not a personal gesture, but a teacher’s acknowledgment of academic achievement. It’s a subtle attempt to dispel any misunderstandings. Though, deep down, Suguru knows they’re largely pointless and unnecessary. No one really thinks he has a special connection with Tsukumo Yuki, or at least he hopes so.
Shoko, on the other end, can only giggle at his further explanation. “You even making her apology now? Woah, man, you're down bad,” she jokes, nudging him playfully. Suguru rolls his eyes again, feeling real fatigue crawling under his skin. And they're just twenty minutes in the morning.
“You want so bad to be in my place, Shoko,” he retorts with a mischievous grin, trying to brush off the attention.
“She doesn't!!” Utahime cuts in, her voice sharp with a tinge of jealousy, before she can fully control herself and realise she has probably stepped in when it wasn't demanded of her. Then she suddenly widens her eyes when it dawns on her, looking at Shoko with a mixture of embarrassment and guilt. “I mean, you don't want to, do you?” She adds awkwardly, her cheeks flushing as she avoids eye contact, too embarrassed to admit she's jealous as hell.
Shoko laughs again, a light, carefree sound that echoes in the crisp morning air. “Well, she's gorgeous... but no, I don't. I got my fav girl right here,” she replies softly, her gaze softening as she leans toward Utahime and gently smooches her on the cheek.
Utahime’s face flushes even deeper, and she instinctively pushes her friend’s shoulder, trying to hide her own embarrassment. “You’re so annoying,” she mutters, but her smile betrays her genuine affection. It's definitely not the annoyance Utahime accuses Satoru of.
The same Satoru who's strangely not being annoying at all, that morning. Too busy pretending to only care about his Switch and the cherry popsicle melting in his mouth.
In fact, the only thing that comes from him is a deeply disgusted noise, that of course gets everyone's attention since he's been almost completely silent the whole time. The white haired boy's expression is deliberately exaggerated, as if he’s trying to make a point. He’s clearly trying to stay hidden, deliberately avoiding the scene, but the theatrical act had to get a reaction from him. His voice is full of mock disgust, as he speaks from under the tree being a couple meters far from them. “I'll become diabetic breathing your same air,” he mutters, his tone sarcastic but clearly annoyed.
Shoko laughs at his comment, the sound bright and carefree. “You'll become diabetic because of all the damn sweets you're ingesting,” she promptly corrects him with a grin.
The playful banter continues, but during the short walk to enter the school building Suguru got hooked two more times by girls intent in covering him with chocolates, slowing the whole group down. His friend's expressions were all particularly shocked, someone more than others. With the sole exception of Satoru Gojo who ultimately looked gloomier than ever while pressing angrily his fingertips over his portable console's pad.
Most might think he was simply annoyed for losing a game against a top difficult final boss, but truth is Satoru is scared he's losing much more than a simple game. At this point he's actually pretty sure that, by the end of the day, he's probably losing his top priority spot in Suguru's life. But he makes sure that that thought stays buried under his unaffected facade.
“By the way, since when did you become so popular?” Utahime finally voices up the question hanging in the air and written in caps lock over everyone's face. Her tone is full of genuine surprise as she looks at Suguru again. He sighs exasperated while he tries to fit the newly gifted chocolates into his already full backpack. For a moment, Suguru hoped the attention could shift away from him, but no, his friends don’t seem to want to let him go off the hook.
And Satoru unexpectedly chimes in, his tone definitely sharper now. “Yeah, since when did you become SO popular??” Satoru repeats, a clear trace of annoyance creeping into his voice. His eyes narrow, and Suguru notices the flicker of jealousy under the surface, something he’s seen before but can’t quite decipher today, amidst the chaos and confusion.
The alarm bells ring quietly in Suguru’s mind. A reminder that beneath the smiles and chatter, something isn’t quite right. Suguru’s mind keeps drifting to Satoru. The tension around him is so clear now that the unspoken question is hanging in the air: what’s actually bothering him this much? He really wants to ask, to understand what's wrong, but truth is that he knows better than to push his best friend. In that right moment, he knew that if he tried he wouldn't obtain anything if not being yelled at. He can sense the undercurrent of emotions that are bothering Satoru, but can't tell why he's getting so worked up. Suguru’s instincts tell him this isn’t just about chocolates or popularity; it’s something deeper, something unspoken. Yet, he can't let everyone see, he can't let everyone read the mood for what it is.
He needs to keep it light. And that's why he pulls a triumphant smirk back as he looks at his best friend, careful not to really meet his eyes. “What? Jealous, Satoru?? You're not getting enough chocolate this year? You can eat mine if that makes you feel better,” Suguru teases him. But the grin tugging at his lips does little to diffuse the tension between them.
In fact, Satoru’s glare is icy, his voice sharp and much more offended than the expectations. “As if. I am not your fucking trash can,” he snaps angrily as he bite down his popsicle strong enough to shutter it in his mouth. His tone is laced with frustration, his face is tense, eyes blazing.
Suguru, unfazed, shakes his head with a quiet, amused laugh. He didn't expect this reaction at all, but he understands Satoru enough to know the boy's not even aware of what he's feeling right now, to be reacting like this. And that's funny enough to Suguru. During their years of friendship never he thought the almighty Satoru Gojo could be jealous of him, yet there he was all upset and angry for who knows what reason in particular.
“Yeah, you're definitely jealous,” he notes, his voice low but teasing.
“I am fucking NOT,” Satoru retorts, glaring at him with a killing stare.
Though, that stare doesn't bother Suguru at all as he shrugs, “You are. You would never refuse chocolate in any other occasion.” He knows Satoru too well to be deceived, yet he still doesn't understand the seriousness of his bad mood.
Serious enough that Satoru doesn't even try having the last word on their argument. And that's another thing that's so not Satoru. “Whatever. Today I can't stand your ugly ass being praised for nonsense. Bye~” Satoru snaps eventually, irony clumsily velveting his voice as he turns sharply and quickens his pace to enter the building. His long frustrated stride leaves the group behind, and Suguru watches him go, a shadow of concern darkening his eyes for a quick instant. They have different courses at first period anyway, so Suguru forces himself to quiet the urge to run after him. Not enough to make anyone else worry, of course.
The others’ eyes, in fact, flicker between them with simple familiar recognition. This may be easily exchanged as one of their usual bickering, the safe kind of fighting that's going to calm down in few minutes. The usual fights that annoy every single one of them — except for Haibara, of course, because the poor boy always looks like he's going to burst in tears worried as hell that their friendship would shatter before his eyes. He's too soft for that.
“Woah, he's really taking this personally,” Shoko remarks, raising an eyebrow, her voice filled with a little surprise mixed with some sort of teasing disbelief. She’s one of the closest to Satoru, second only to Suguru, and she’s perceptive enough to notice that something’s truly bothering him. Yet, not enough close maybe to understand him as deeply as his best friend does.
Suguru sighs, watching Satoru’s tense shoulders push forward into the distance. His internal voice is conflicted — worried, yet helpless. He's not sure teasing him was a good idea, but at the same time he knows Satoru is now more aware of himself. Even if it would take him time to process whatever is going on in his mind, at least now the process has started.
“He's gonna forget it by lunchtime. Give it time,” he says softly, though the conviction in his voice is shaky. Deep down, inside, he doesn’t believe his own words. Something about today’s mood feels heavy, something even he can’t quite grasp.
He watches Satoru disappear through the school doors, feeling that unfamiliar, nagging sense that beneath all the teasing, something is wrong, something that’s just beyond his reach. But for now, he can just observe, holding onto the warmth of his friends’ presence to march through the oppressive chaos of this Valentine’s Day morning at school.
˖ ⊹ ࣪ ﹏﹏⛇☃︎﹏﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖
The school day stretches on, each period feeling like an eternity for both Suguru and Satoru. They all separated after the first period, each heading toward their respective classes, but Suguru’s mind remains tangled in a web of concern. He can't get off his mind the image of Satoru from a distance, the way the boy’s shoulders were stiff, his expression clouded with an unusual, unmasked frustration that Suguru has rarely seen before. It was utterly unsettling. Something about the way Satoru carried himself made him look like a storm about to break, and that thought gnawed at him too fiercely to be ignored.
Haibara, Utahime, and Shoko join Suguru for their science class, and possibly that is the only thing keeping Suguru grounded, as Haibara keeps talking animatedly about his trip, his words flowing nonstop, even when teacher Choso was trying to introduce them to a new quite difficult topic. One way or another, Suguru wouldn't have caught even the slightest glimpse of what they need to study about the carbon hybridisation, anyway. Even if he truly wants to listen, the events of the early morning take too much space in his head, and they all pressed into Suguru’s chest with increasing weight.
When they finally step out of class, Gojo was already out in the corridor, but he didn’t approach. His eyes meet Suguru’s for only a brief second, an almost imperceptible flicker of recognition, before he turns his head sharply, as if avoiding the connection altogether. Suguru had raised a hand instinctively, calling him out softly, but Satoru has simply vanished again for the next period, swallowed by the chaos of the school's whispering corridors.
The strange, gnawing worry pricks at Suguru more and more with the time passing. It was unlike Satoru to withdraw so completely, to retreat into silence or distance himself from everyone, especially from Suguru. He knows he's torturing himself a bit too much about that situation, but it's something so new that it's not sitting well with him, and he can't wait for the skein to be untangled.
He's been so lost in thought that he's arrived late for his third-period English class. Tsukumo sensei winks at him as he enters the class in a rush, even with all the other students already seated. Satoru is there too, already sprawled out on his usual spot at the back of the room, apparently ignoring everything around him. Or so it seems.
Even if Satoru truly wants to ignore everything, he's not strong enough to ignore the spare chocolate boxes dropping on his desk at the very moment Suguru approaches his spot to sit down next to him. Nothing different than usual, of course, if not for the infuriating soft thud his best friend's backpack full of sweet treats and gifts makes right before his eyes.
Sure enough, Suguru has been late because he was stopped by someone else flooding him with confectionaries and praises. Sure enough, Satoru should be completely indifferent about it. Yet, his teeth grit and his jaw clenches.
Satoru doesn't make it obvious he was actually looking, he just peers with the corner of his eye. But that was enough for him to get even more annoyed. Not that he hasn't received chocolate, of course. That surely was not the issue, considering he was probably the most popular student of the school. But truth is he doesn't give a fuck about the girlies who handed him confectioneries since that morning. He couldn't remember when it was the last time— no, he could clearly admit that there never was a time where he would be unwilling or unhappy, or even uninterested, in receiving sweets. He could call himself sugar dependent almost, so it was definitely off that none of those chocolate had lighten up his mood during the whole day.
He actually started hating it. The day, the chocolate, the advances, everything really. He simply can't stand Suguru's attention being stolen by so many random people. Most of them he can't even name them, and he's pretty sure Suguru cannot do it either. He can swear most of those people don't even know his best friend at all. Maybe they just saw him around a few times and learnt his name because of the basketball team they are in, or by the fact he is always ranking as one of the best students in all his classes. But, really, none of them was actually close to him enough to call him by first name even. How did they manage to find the courage to fucking bring him chocolate???
He feels himself burning in rage. He would gladly try to find a distraction, but he can't even feel at ease looking at their teacher because the damn woman just winked at his best friend when he entered the class, after casually gifting him chocolate that very early morning. Satoru feels like he's going crazy, irrational irritation devouring him from the inside, enough to make his hands clench in white-knuckles fists.
He snorts by himself in annoyance at the thought that it's been only three hours since the day started, and he rolls his eyes in silence, focusing at the blackboard as if he could pierce a hole in it. He's not had such a bad mood for so long he can't even remember. Sure he was kind of sensitive and he liked to stay annoyed for a bit over stupid things so that his friends would beg for forgiveness — or at least they would still end up searching for him and claiming back his attentions. That made him feel needed, desired at most.
But now... Now he just feels like shit. And he really has no reason to feel like that at all, because well, Suguru is definitely a handsome guy — maybe even a little too handsome with those eye-catching dark long hair and his muscular built — and it is surely normal he has quite a few people drooling over him at school. But do they need to be so damn many??
Well maybe that was not even the problem. The real question was: why do they even need to exist?? Can't they leave HIS Suguru alone?
Jealousy is gnawing at him. It's pointless trying to still deny it, at this point. It's like a vine slowly creeping around his heart. Just like a leaky faucet, it started dripping slowly since they entered the school gates, until it ended up flooding his thoughts.
He finds himself biting his own lower lip as he misses any other normal day. Suguru would just be lazily taking his notes during lesson and sometimes bug him to keep him sound and awake. Satoru would then fall asleep nevertheless, and Suguru would pinch his nose to cut his breath off, or find any other way to wake him up, or either torture him somehow.
Once, he even fucking drew a DICK on his cheek with a waterproof marker. Satoru ended up literally walking down the aisles and entering the following class with a fucking ugly penis drawn on his perfect doll face, until the literature teacher literally kicked him out of class for his ‘indecent looks’. Only then, he realised why the bunch of assholes who crossed his path during those fateful twenty minutes couldn't keep down their fucking laughs. He was so angry and ashamed he literally punched Suguru in the stomach after class. It wasn't for the crowd to know that the punch hurt his knuckles much more than it hurt Suguru's brick-built torso. Satoru blamed his best friend's too quick reflexes for it, because he was sure that if he hadn't flexed his abdomen muscles in time, he would've probably felt that punch for a week. Instead it just turned in Satoru having to hide his reddened sore knuckles... together with the shame that he found the event damn hot, unfortunately.
It was the most embarrassing day of his life, probably — the almighty Gojo Satoru getting laughed at for walking down the school with a dick doodle on his face. Yet, if he could exchange that day with the current one, he would've done so. It felt much better to be embarrassed, and angry, and whatever he felt after that prank, than to feel ignored and forgotten, and whatever he's feeling right now.
He is too upset to listen to anything the teacher is saying, and too upset to even fall asleep. And if in a normal day Suguru would've already been messing with him, today it seems that he has decided to — absurdly enough — just study. He casually looked at Satoru from time to time, but Satoru has been quick to dismiss the eye contact every single time, making it look like it was accidental and uninterested.
Suguru, on the other end, is genuinely starting to worry. Satoru is not usual to be like this at all. Surely he has times when he play the drama queen, but now he looks authentically upset. And it's a first for him. He had been knowing Satoru for years now, it was enough to know him well. Maybe more than well, considering how much time they use to spend together. They were glued to each other all day at school, hanged out after school, joined all the same clubs, and even met up by nighttime almost every day. He could certainly tell more than anyone when something was really off. And today something is definitely off.
Over the lecture, Suguru’s eyes often flicked over Satoru’s tense shoulders, the way his friend’s jaw was tight, the faint tremor in his hands as he seemed on verge of exploding from rage. Suguru knows his best friend well enough to understand that it's not just something off. There's a whole lot of things going wrong to get Satoru that wasted and uncontrolled. Today, Satoru’s usual mask of cocky indifference was completely cracked, revealing something raw and vulnerable beneath. Suguru’s instincts urged him to reach out, maybe hold his hand and try to make him relax a bit, but he hesitates. He doesn't know what to expect of a reaction and they're yet in the middle of a class. That's how he distracts himself taking random notes about the lecture he's listening to very casually, waiting for the class to end to be able to talk with his best friend.
Satoru doesn't make it easy for him either. The white haired boy peers at Suguru from the corner of his eye, his expression unreadable, an almost deliberate dismissal. Suguru, however, caught the way his best friend's eyes darted away whenever his gaze lingered too long. That silent, guarded resistance only deepens Suguru’s concern.
He observes Satoru’s discomfort, the way his fingers twitch against the desk, the way his breathing seems shallow, almost labored. Suguru’s mind races, working through the chances to solve this mystery he had never witnessed before, nor understood. His heart aches slightly with that realization. Satoru was usually one who brushed things off, who refused to let others see his vulnerabilities. Today, though, he looks like he's carrying a burden far heavier than the chocolates and petty jealousy.
When the lesson finally ends, Suguru nudges Satoru lightly on the arm. “Hey... are you—” he started softly, but before he could finish, a high-pitched, overly eager voice cut through the air like a knife.
Satoru’s head had just turned toward his best friend and was not ready to turn again. His eyes were clouded with misery but flickering with faint hope — hope that Suguru had noticed him, had finally understood. Though, Suguru quickly stops looking at him because the girl approaching them demands attention, coughing as to make sure she was being seen. That's when Satoru slowly follow his best friend's stare and meet the overly flamboyant intruder.
Her voice is so obnoxiously sweet it is almost unbearable. “Gojo-sama!!” she repeats, practically squeaking, as if her words alone may be able to shatter the tension around him. “Sorry if I bother you, I know you don't know me... but I felt like I needed to give it a shot... I just wanted to give you—”
Before she can finish, Satoru’s patience snaps for good. His fist slams down on the desk with a loud, echoing bang, startling all the few people left in the class — including the girl and Suguru. His voice is sharp and completely devoided of patience. “Oh, fuck off!” he spits, voice raw with frustration, his chords vibrating a short sarcastic laugh.
The abruptness of his words makes Suguru’s heart tighten, and even the girl flinches. Satoru’s face is set in a scowl, eyes blazing with irritation and exhaustion. His chair screeches as he pushes it back, standing up abruptly with a sudden, almost violent energy.
Suguru watches him walk out of the classroom with an erratic rhythm, almost robotic, almost broken. His shoulders, tense and rigid, carry a weight Suguru doesn't recognise fully but deeply feel. Every step seems like a silent scream, an expression of a storm he can't let out. His pace is limping, almost like a wounded animal. This isn’t him. Not really. Not the Satoru I know, he thinks. The Satoru who would usually brush off all this nonsense, who would tease back, who would be the first to make a joke or pull a prank, is not here today. Today, he looks utterly defeated. And it is terrifying. Suguru’s concern deepens again, a gnawing sense that this was something that needed to be solved as soon as possible.
There have been moments when Satoru had been upset, sure. But never like this. Never so openly hurt, so genuinely broken. And that realization hits him hard: he had never seen Satoru like this before. Not even when he’d failed a test, or when his migraines left him pale and exhausted, or when his favourite food spot shut down. Nothing could be compared to this.
He stays seated for a moment, watching the door close behind Satoru, feeling a strange, heavy weight settle in his chest. He wants to reach out, to call him back, to ask what is wrong. But he knows better than to make a scene at school that might get them in trouble, or maybe receive too much undesirable attentions. He feels like, right now, he might just need to wait to talk with Satoru, and hope he wants to answer his questions.
He looks at the other students filing out of the classroom, feeling helpless and frustrated. The worry is corroding him — an unfamiliar sensation, one that's just a reminder of how deep his bond with Satoru truly is. It isn't just friendship, and he knows full well. He's realised it quite some time ago, and simply accepted it within his heart. It was clearly something more, something that makes his stomach tighten with a strange, aching tenderness.
He knows then, that today is going to be some sort of scar to him, a day he's not going to forget quickly. Because when someone as fiercely independent and proud as Satoru Gojo is vulnerable, Suguru can easily tell that's a sign that something needs to be unfolded, needs understanding, needs patience, and perhaps, most of all, it needs time.
Suguru stands up to follow his best friend immediately, finally hoping to talk to him properly. It was soon enough that Satoru didn't even exit the room yet. And he was ready to run after him, if it wasn't for the girl who was impaled before their desk with a face struck in shock and shame, eyes filled with tears threatening to be shed, hands clutching against the carefully decorated box of chocolates.
For some unfortunate reason, Suguru's body acts way faster than his brain as he gently pats her head, moving a strand of her hair in the right place as a comforting gesture. “Hey... Don't cry, please,” he plasters her wounds gently. “He's not mad at you, trust me. It was just a very bad time and he's pretty tired today. He's not like that usually, I promise,” he explains, trying to soften the blow.
And he is very good at that because the girl leans in his touch like a cat after a long day alone, and she looks at him with eyes too big and hopeful to be ignored. He smiles politely and promptly removes his hand from her head when she's calmed down, extending it before himself with the palm upright. “If you want, you can give me this one and I'll bring it to him for you, fine? Is your name inside? I'm sure he will appreciate it once he feels better,” he suggests.
And it takes less than one split second for the girl to smile brightly and nod, tears easily forgotten as she sends him his chocolate instead.
Of course, Satoru thinks as he stands by the corridor in front of the class. Of course the girl was convinced already at that first ‘hey’ Suguru had spoken so soft it looked like he was pampering some scared animal — the same identical ‘hey’ he's used to call Satoru right before the girl appeared. That simple realisation makes Satoru feel like drowning.
Of course, she was persuaded. Because Suguru is just so good at coaxing people. It was so easy to be fooled if it was him, even if it was just a white lie for a poor heartbroken girl who needed comfort. Suguru is just too good at being nice, calm, comforting, and whatever drew people to him like a magnet. His voice, his choice of wording anything... He is just too good. So damn good that sometimes, but just sometimes, even the almighty Satoru Gojo doesn't feel quite enough to deserve all of Suguru's attentions.
Yet, that doesn't mean he stopped wanting them. If not, he actually started greeding for more.
But right here, right now, Satoru can just clench his jaw and fists while he walks away, his mood worse than before. The fact Suguru is just SO good with people is bothering him more than ever today. It was annoying normally, but today... Oh, today it is insufferable.
It would take Satoru long to dismiss the thought of that girl, of the way Suguru spoke to her. Though, the same couldn't be said for Suguru, because he quickly forgets about her after taking in her pretty silver and blue box for Satoru. He doesn't care about all the polite thankings she bowed him, and he doesn't care about leaving her alone shortly after, with just a poor smile. The only thing he cares about at the moment is Satoru. He needs to find him. He needs to talk to him.
Suguru almost runs down the aisle to the main hallway. And, fortunately, he spots his best friend easily next to the lockers. It was difficult to go unnoticed when you stand more than six feet tall and are born with bright white hair. He takes a breath of relief and finally reaches him next to the lockers area. Everyone is in class, because fourth period has already started, so there's no living soul around them and Suguru is glad about it, because he can sense that their conversation will not be calm.
He hesitates briefly while getting closer, feeling the weight of unspoken words pressing on him. The sight of Satoru, so distant yet so familiar, made Suguru’s mind sink in insecurities. The last thing he wants to hear is that Satoru is feeling like shit because of him. And even if that doesn't really make sense, there's some sort of sluggish guilt inside him that wouldn't leave him alone. He can't stop wondering if he's done something wrong. His own chest tightens at the thought of his friend suffering in silence, he knows too well that Satoru is fragile in ways no one can see, in ways maybe not even he has seen yet. And that kinda scares him, because he doesn't feel confident in facing the unknown. He's not as bold as Satoru, in the end. He's more of a logic spirit guided by experience than by pure instinct as Satoru is used to. And maybe that's why they complement each other so well.
Strong of the thought that the pair of them must stick together in order to better solve a problem, he finally finds the courage to call for him again. “Satoru,” he murmurs, voice softer this time, even more cautious. He's close enough to grab his wrist, gently but firmly, as if anchoring him in place, not wanting him to escape. “Why did you snap like that?,” he questions. And maybe that's not at all the question he wanted to make up. Maybe that question was not needed at all, in fact. But he doesn't really know where to start from.
The white haired boy looks back at him angrily. The sharpness in his eyes is almost a spontaneous reflex, something Suguru is used to seeing, but it still stings.
Satoru can't believe that now his best friend is questioning him about some random girl, as if that’s what’s bothering him. As if that’s what’s wrong. His mind whirled with conflicting feelings — annoyance, anger, guilt, frustration, fear that all of those emotions were just his exaggeration — and he couldn’t quite keep them all in check.
“What's your problem, Suguru?” His stare and posture might've been intimidating for anyone else, but Suguru is not everyone else. He doesn't even flinch at Satoru raising his voice, because he’s seen it before: he's more vulnerable than he’d like to admit, but too proud to show it.
“My problem?” Suguru scoffs a laugh, a little bitter, but especially surprised by the question. “My problem is that there's something wrong with you today.” The words sting on open wounds because of the harsh truth being exposed. Suguru’s concern isn’t just about the girl or the snap, it’s of course about that insisting shadow in Satoru’s eyes, about the way his defences are up, about the way he’s trying to pretend everything’s fine when it’s clearly not.
And that hurt Suguru the most. It’s been too long since he's felt that distance between them, since he’s seen Satoru hide from him. He never thought they'd be back to the days where Suguru had to carefully tiptoe around him and calculate all of his actions not to awake the ticking bomb lying under Satoru's indifference. They've been there already, years before. And it’s like a wound reopened only to rub salt in it, one he thought had healed long ago.
When he doesn't get any reply but just a grim stare, he lets his grip on the silent boy's wrist loosen up. He's sure he's got his attention now, and he's sure Satoru would not run away. With a calm and calculated movement, he opens Satoru’s locker, knowing the passcode full well, and gently places the chocolate the girl gave him inside. He'd rather throw it away, honestly, but he's not the type to take back his own words and break a promise. “...I don't want to see you like that,” he finally says, voice quieter now but steady, more sincere.
He hates seeing Satoru different. Not because he can't take his anger, sadness or upset moods, but because it’s like watching someone else. It doesn't belong to Satoru being like that, he only forces that wall around him when something is off. If only he could, he’d take all of Satoru’s pain onto himself, erase the hurt that’s clouding his eyes, and tear down that wall brick by brick.
The silence he gets in reply is better than any anger snap or crude humour. Suguru knows his best friend has heard him, and knows he's processing it, so he just gives him time. “How about we skip next period?” he asks eventually, turning again to look Satoru in the eyes, hoping maybe, just maybe, that he can reach through whatever wall Satoru’s built today. They'd already be too late to join the current class without being kicked out anyway, so it doesn't seem bad to spend a couple hours off school.
Satoru is staring at him. He was startled by his sincere statement, and by the genuine concern behind that question and Suguru’s calm facade. As much as he wanted Suguru to get right there, to understand how he's feeling, he wasn't wishing for his best friend to be that worried.
Skipping class looks like the best idea at the moment, since anyway he can't put any focus in his studies right now. He's glad for the proposal, he's glad for Suguru's presence, and he's glad that he's not alone. Yet, despite himself, his reply comes out sarcastic anyway. And Satoru really doesn't understand why he's filled with so much stupid resentment.
“You look pretty busy today, are you sure you can waste your time with me?” The words are sharp, but they’re simply part of that mask he doesn't even want to carry. Right now he would just want to drop dead on the ground and lean his aching head over Suguru's shoulder or lap, letting his best friend take care of him as always. He's not even fully aware of how much he actually needs his best friend's grounding presence.
Suguru looks at him seriously, severely almost, narrowing his dark purple eyes. “You hit your head?” he blurts out, as if it was the most stupid question Satoru could ask. It was so obvious for him that his best friend was his top priority, always. His concern toward him is almost instinctive now. And Suguru fully knows there is no going back on what he feels for his best friend, that's why he's never been more serious about it. “I'd dedicate all my time to you even if I were on my deathbed, dumbass,” he says sincerely, uncaring that it might sound too cheesy. Because it’s the truth. His words aren’t just empty promises, they’re a vow. He would do anything for Satoru. Anything. He'd done already the craziest stuff for him, and with him. And he's ready to spend his whole life being crazier if needed. He just wants his best friend to be next to him, as the one he's always known.
Not that he doesn't like the mess of tangled emotions Satoru is right now, but he simply knows that it's not him. Not his true self at least.
In fact, Satoru falls quiet at that. He trusts Suguru with all his heart. He knows he hasn't said that just to talk, just to joke. Suguru means it. That honesty hits him harder than any insult or teasing remark ever could, and it makes his heart sink faintly. For a moment, he feels ashamed. Ashamed of how he’s been acting, of how he’s been pushing Suguru away, of the unspoken fears he’s been hiding behind his irritation.
That's how his anger finally subsides. He nods slowly and Suguru finally guides him out the building, gently taking his hand, as if he's scared he might break it if he holds too tight. Satoru lets himself be dragged through the corridors, and then outside to the back courtyard, a hidden spot under the trees' shadow where Suguru usually goes to smoke. He recognises it because sometimes he's followed his best friend when he was bored, even if he's never joined him smoking. He can barely bear with the smell at all.
Suguru sits down on a wooden bench, waiting patiently, and pats the space beside him. He fights the urge to light up a cigarette just because he knows Satoru doesn't like it. “So, what's with you?” he asks again, his tone filled with patience. He's not demanding, he's supporting.
And maybe that's what makes Satoru's shoulder relax a bit as he sits down and sighs. He mentally thanks his past self for being — who knows how — able to pick someone like Suguru by his side. He's aware that he's a lot to handle, yet Suguru makes it look like it's so easy to be around him. So much easy that he forgets that Suguru is the only one he can really count onto, and he should never doubt him.
He stays quiet for a while, admiring the blue sky, trying to find the right words, or maybe just trying to gather up his scattered thoughts. Then he shrugs, almost dismissively, but inside, he’s battling himself. He still doesn't know how to put it down. “Just a bad day I guess.” The phrase sounds hollow, even to his own ears. A simple lie to earn a bit more time.
He still can't see that Suguru would gladly steal all the time of the World and serve it to him on a silver plate, if needed.
“A bad day?” Suguru calmly raises his brow, voice gentle but firm. “I am your best friend, and I've never once seen you like this. Your bad days are just double dose of bickering and a cute pout stuck on your lips. This is clearly not ‘just a bad day’. You'd need a better excuse and definitely more efforts if you want to try to fool me.” His words aren’t accusatory, they’re more like a quiet plea for honesty put out in an almost funny way to keep the conversation light enough.
“Tsk. Shut up,” Satoru laments lazily, feeling easily defeated. But he knows he hasn't put any efforts in that, maybe because he was also aware that it didn't make any sense to try lying. He sighs quietly, leaning back on his hands, eyes fixed on the sky. But even as he does it, he can sense Suguru’s gaze on him. It’s like a weight pressing into him, urging him to say more, to open up. Yet, it's not an oppressing weight. It's more like something pulling at him to help him get out of somewhere he's got stuck into.
“Tell me, c'mon,” Suguru insists, voice gentle yet insistent.
“Don't wanna,” Satoru replies in a childish tone. Though, it feels much more like he's slowly surrendering, an easy momentarily acknowledgment that he doesn’t even want to face the truth. He simply knows his denial won't last long anyway. Now that they’re alone, far from the chaos of the day, far from the insistent bugging, he’s already feeling a little better. As if just by being here, sharing this moment, some of that burden lifts.
Suguru can't help but let the corner of his lips turn up as he hears the adorable tone his best friend has spoken with. At that very moment, he knows Satoru is coming back to him. And he needs to be careful not to shatter the trust he's putting into him once again. “Why?” Suguru asks again, voice patient.
Satoru hesitates, then mumbles, “...Cause it's stupid.” He starts munching at his own lips to quiet down his intrusive thoughts.
Suguru scoffs a laugh at that, making sure to meet Satoru's eyes as he smiles fondly. “What's different from usual? You're always stupid.” His tone is teasing, covering up for his genuine concern.
Satoru's bright blue wells soften immediately at that warm smile. It almost embarrasses him to admit how much effect has Suguru's laugh on him. Yet, even if his eyes clearly show his better moods, he's still scrunching his nose in disagree. “Asshole,” Satoru mutters feigning annoyance, though a faint smile finally touches his lips. He’s grateful, even if he won’t admit it aloud, that Suguru’s still teasing him, still trying to draw him out from that hateful pit.
Suguru nods comically in reply, as if he's not just being called a slur. “...So?” he presses, leaning forward slightly, their foreheads almost touching.
Satoru feels the urge to look away again, cheeks flushing slightly at his closeness. He doesn't even know why he feels that warmth crawling under his skin. They're so used to each other's presence that he's sure it's pretty stupid to feel this kind of embarrassment right now.
“I don't like this feeling...” Satoru murmurs, as if he’s about to drop a secret. He’s ashamed of his own thoughts — his jealousy, his frustration, how easily he’s been reacting today. And he’s scared of these feelings, because they’re unfamiliar territory. His voice is almost a whisper, almost as if he's afraid his words might shatter the fragile moment into pieces. It’s a rare crack in his usual confident facade, and he knows it. He feels exposed, raw, as if the honesty in his confession is a fragile thread threatening to snap under the weight of his own emotions.
He’s ashamed of how his mind has been spiralling since this early morning. Possessiveness, irrationality, fear of losing, all swirling together in a storm he can’t quite tame. And now, standing this close to Suguru, his heart pounding so loudly he fears it might burst out of his chest, he’s afraid Suguru can hear it too.
“I really hate this feeling...” Satoru repeats, voice barely above a whisper, eyes fixed on the ground but flickering up now and then, betraying his nervousness. His words are laced with an utterly unique self-disgust, that stands as an admission of how powerless he feels against the tide of emotions crashing within him. He’s never been good at understanding these feelings — at least, not until now — and the confusion is almost overwhelming. Still, he keeps wondering why his heart is beating so fast, but especially why does the thought of Suguru’s attention drifting elsewhere feel like a stab to the gut?
He shifts awkwardly, trying to hide the tremor in his voice, the small sign of his inner turmoil. “...I just truly hate people stealing all your attention,” he confesses, voice cracking just a little at the end, as if saying it aloud makes it more real, more dangerous.
Suguru’s response is slow in coming, his brow furrowing as he processes the weight of Satoru’s words. He’s used to teasing, joking, keeping things light, but this? This is different. This is vulnerability laid bare. And Suguru, despite his usual calm, feels hesitation running down his spine. He needs to ponder how much depth he can allow himself to show, how deep can he afford to dig into the conversation without scaring Satoru away completely.
He pauses, weighing his options, feeling the delicate balance of their friendship teetering on the edge of something more. He considers the risk of pushing too far, too soon, and decides to keep it light, for now. He needs to test the waters and wants to hear Satoru open up before dropping a whole bomb over them. After all, they’re just eighteen. They're just stupid boys still figuring out what everything means, still learning how to navigate the uncharted waters of their feelings.
He eventually tilts his head, a teasing glint flickering in his eyes, trying to diffuse the tension with humour. “You want me all for yourself, huh?” The words hang in the air, playful but loaded. Suguru’s voice is teasing, but there’s an underlying challenge, a subtle invitation to break the boundaries they’ve kept up until now.
Satoru’s eyes go wide in shock, like a deer caught in headlights. His mind races to find a proper response, a way to mask the sudden heat blooming in his cheeks. In any other normal day that tease would've earned a disgusted face and some dismissive retort to shut the advance off, but in that very moment he feels like Suguru has just read through him, peeling back layers he didn’t even know were there. He gulps quietly.
“N-no!! What the fuck- it's not that- What are you even thinking???” Satoru squeaks, voice high and panicked, desperately trying to push the words out before they betray him further. Cold sweat beads form on his forehead, and he awkwardly tries to put more space between them, as if physical distance might somehow protect him from the vulnerability he’s exposing. The last thing he wants is for Suguru to see him as anything but the confident boy he pretends to be. Little does he know that his best friend has long since stopped seeing him like just that.
Suguru’s expression remains calm, not letting his confidence waver in front of what he knows it's a panicked lie. His eyes almost gleam with quiet amusement, because he’s seen Satoru flustered before, but this is pretty different. There’s a glint of something else — tenderness, maybe, or a quiet understanding that honesty is sometimes the only way forward. He doesn’t let the denial rattle him. Instead, he leans in just a little, closing the gap between them with deliberate slow movements. His hand instinctively reaches out, cupping Satoru’s chin with a gentle firmness, enough to make him feel the weight of Suguru’s touch but soft enough to convey care.
“What are you thinking?” Suguru retorts, repeating his best friend's question, voice low but steady, eyes locked onto Satoru’s. His thumb brushes softly over the boy’s jawline, a silent question, an invitation. His gaze is steady, unwavering, as if he’s daring Satoru to be honest now.
Satoru’s mind spirals into chaos. His body tenses, and his cheeks burn hotter, making it impossible for him to keep looking in the ravenette's eyes. His mind is a whirl of conflicting emotions: embarrassment, fear, and an undeniable longing that he’s afraid to name aloud. His gaze flickers downward, and his eyes finally land on Suguru’s lips, and suddenly, an unthinkable, unexplainable, uncontrollable, desperate urge to kiss them surges through him. He knows, right now, that he's dug his own grave, and that he's possibly going to bring their friendship with him.
“I...” he begins, voice trembling, but the words die on his tongue before they can be spoken. His lips part slightly, and he feels the pull of unspoken feelings, the invisible thread tightening between them. His fear a little too loud, yet the desire burning in his eyes it's even louder.
Suguru, ever perceptive and unhurried, seems to catch on quickly. He sees the way Satoru’s eyes linger on his lips, the way his breathing becomes shallow. The teasing smile on Suguru’s face deepens just a little, knowing exactly that Satoru's confusion is proof of the fragility of his new, dangerous, and wonderful emotions.
“You?” Suguru prompts softly, voice almost a purr, as if testing the waters of this new vulnerability.
The white-haired boy sighs in frustration, a mixture of longing and fright swirling in his chest. His voice is muffled with a pout. “...I wanna punch you,” he mutters, trying to pretend he’s unaffected, but he finds the strength to shrug off Suguru’s large hand. Though, his gaze lingers on him, searching for something he can’t quite name. His expression is a mask of defiance, but his eyes keep betraying him and the storm inside him.
Suguru knows full well what kind of emotions they are. He can see it from the blush on his cheeks, from the shivering in his lips, from the trembling in his fingers, and from the confused look in his eyes. Suguru has been there before. But Satoru has never been a great empath, too full of himself to actually realise that. That's what's giving the black haired boy the confidence to stand his ground. “In the face? That's why you're staring?” he asks, raising one brow while a teasing grin molding his lips.
Satoru lowers his head, dismissive as he tries to divert his gaze to something else, whatever that doesn't look like that damn perfect Suguru Geto boy. “...Yes” he admits in a mumble. Something in his brain thinks that it would save his face a little, even if he admitted he was actually staring.
Though, Suguru doesn't seem to want lo let him off the hook yet. “Why?” Suguru asks, raising a brow, his teasing grin still in place. “So that other people won’t look at me anymore?” His voice is light, but the underlying meaning is clear: he knows about Satoru’s jealousy, about the way he’s been acting. The hint too clear and too obvious to not think he was referring to that.
Once again, Satoru feels seen. And, at this point of the conversation, it feels stupid to keep lying to himself. He surrenders with a resigned eyeroll, annoyed more from the fact that Suguru is dealing with his problems too well. “What if I say yes? What you gonna do?” he counters, voice trembling just a little, daring Suguru to push further.
Suguru’s eyes sparkle with challenge, and he leans closer, almost daring him to say more. “Something you’d never guess,” he replies, a mischievous smile curling his lips. Carefully, he reaches out again, placing his hand on Satoru’s cheek, gentle but firm, guiding his face upward, his thumb brushing over his chin.
Satoru’s breath catches in his throat and he feels a rush of adrenaline in his nerves. His eyes, wide in anticipation, shine as brightly as a cloudless dawn, promising endless possibilities.
And Suguru has dreamt of this possibility so many times — he's wanted this kiss for long, now. It's been since last summer he has seriously realised that his best friend is the only person he can think about when people ask him about his ‘crush’. Actually, he's started suspecting it way before, it just took time to acknowledge the ‘symptoms’ and accept them. And now that he's never been so close to the lips he's dreamt of so many times, of course he wouldn't turn off the chance.
Satoru, though, looks like he's got much more to handle than pure simple longing. Actually, he looks more panicked than when he lost his wallet just after getting his paycheck. He doesn't know if all that he's feeling is okay, he doesn't know how to name it, he doesn't even know what he really wants— or, well, he doesn't know until the very moment their lips actually meet. That is much more than a simple clash of meat against meat, skin against skin. It is a whirlwind of emotions unravelling: surprise and realisation from Satoru's part, desire and fulfilment from Suguru's.
The white haired boy's hands come gripping at his best friend's shirt, incoherently uncertain if he wants to pull him closer or push away his wide chest. Suguru doesn't get swayed at all. He let their lips connect and move slowly, passionately, guiding the kiss despite the awkwardness Satoru is putting in it. Their noses bump several times, their teeth meet a bit too many times, and Suguru has to literally move Satoru's head around to smooth the collision, but that doesn't look like it's bothering him. The only real action Satoru puts efforts into is pushing Suguru away when he feels the urging need to breath again. The shortness of oxygen in his lungs knocking some sense back in his mind.
Satoru takes in quick deep breaths, as he tries to process what's just happened — absurdly enough — between him and his best friend. He's incredulous, and also a little bit too dreamy as he distractedly touches his own lips, slightly swollen by the kiss. The only thing coming from his mouth, though, is another insult, one of the least offensive he's ever directed to Suguru anyway. “...You're crazy.”
On the other hand, Suguru looks more than accomplished with his cheeks equally flushed, sporting a wide grin as he licks his lips with a satisfied look, one of those no one could tear off of him — And Satoru must admit that's a bit too hot to handle. “Why? You wanted it too, didn't you?” he asks calmly, yet not managing to hide the fact he looks like he's just reached the gates of Heaven.
Satoru rolls his eyes, trying to feign annoyance once again, but his voice is a little too thin and soft to actually sound bothered. “...Doesn't mean you could do that,” he mumbles, lips pouting again. His protest too weak to be serious, voice soft and uncertain.
Suguru shakes his head, cornering him easily as he gets closer to his face again. “Then why didn't you stop me?”
Satoru can't look straight into his dark deep eyes because he feels like he's staring right into him. Also, he doesn't want to confess how much he liked it right in his face, so he just drop his stare to the bench. “Because I was too busy enjoying it,” he admits, trying to look unaffected — and of course failing.
“Careful,” Suguru replies almost immediately, raising an eyebrow, surprised by the quick confession. He wasn't expecting Satoru to admit that out loud. He gently brings his hand back to his best friend's cheek, brushing against it softly and ending up forcing his head up again. His face close enough for Satoru to feel the warmth of Suguru’s breath. Suguru loves studying his best friend's eyes, especially in moments like these. Those bright azure pools that gently hide every thought and feeling he’s too afraid to voice. Most times they're lively, full of energy and mystery, but they're also the mirror of his thoughts, and Suguru relies on them to understand what's going on in his favourite person's mind. “...If you say so, I might do that again,” he finally adds in a daring whisper, an oblique smile tugging at his lips, as if he's really asking to be punched.
Yet, Satoru's will to punch him has long since vanished. The only thing Satoru can think about is the way their lips were dancing together just a couple minutes before. It wasn't perfect — it looked more like two idiots on a dance floor for the first time in their life, stomping on each other's feet and messing up the whole choreography. Though, it wasn't bad at all. Actually, he loved it. And the need to feel it again is pulsing in his veins loud and clear.
The challenge of Suguru's words is still hanging in the air, and Satoru’s heart pounds even harder. He’s lost in the moment, the taste of Suguru’s lips still lingering, the warmth of his touch seared into his skin. It's a once-in-a-lifetime that he'd let down a challenge, especially if it's his best friend's challenges. It's as if he's bound to prove to his prideful self take he can take whatever Suguru pulls up. That's what's probably giving him the final push to follow his guts.
And he finally takes a deep breath and dives in, closing in the distance between the two of them without hesitation, without giving himself time to second-guess. Their lips colliding clumsily, more passionately, more eager, even.
Satoru doesn't even let himself indulge in wondering if that's the right thing to do. It can't be wrong if it's about the person he values the most on earth, can it? He just doesn't find enough space in his mind to let the thought linger. Suddenly, he's filled with the will to explore whatever this new, terrifying, beautiful thing might be. It almost feels like learning to ride a bike — stumbling, falling, but then keep trying to find your balance again. And Suguru has always been his balance since the very moment he met him. He's been trying to get him on a bike, and he's waited patiently for Satoru to learn. Yet, Satoru has eventually decided he was too lazy to learn, and Suguru has just surrendered and let him ride his bike together with him, pedaling for both of them, supporting his best friend's weight carefree, as if it didn't bother him at all. And Satoru can only think that if Suguru can stand this much, he's probably the only one worth the effort of diving into the unknown.
That's all he can conclude in that psyched state of mind of his before his focus gets completely stolen by the taste of Suguru's lips, because it is exactly as he imagined it to be — And, oh, well, he didn't even realise he'd thought about it before. His mouth tastes sweet, somehow, despite the despicable amount of coffee he ingests, which probably blends in that rough yet alluring aftertaste of bitterness together with the lingering cigarette's mark.
He doesn't know how his mind has managed to perfectly grasp that taste. But now that he's had a bite, it's difficult to keep down the instinct to want more. And that's clear from the way he anchors Suguru down, his fingers curling in his long dark hair, grabbing at it with just enough urgency to emphasise how much he wants that closeness.
Suguru didn't expect it at all, he didn't think his best friend would be this committed. Satoru hasn't even teased him back or replied to his best friend's words, he's simply taken in the suggestion and sucked the air off his lungs in another kiss that feels almost desperate. It takes him a bit to regain his confidence and accomodate Satoru's lust, but he soon finds himself getting dragged by the rush of heat, deepening the kiss until their breaths are ragged and their hearts race uncontrollably.
Their lips move in a frantic, imperfect clash for supremacy once again — noses bumping, teeth grazing, trying to find rhythm in chaos. Suguru’s hands grip Satoru’s shirt, pulling him closer by his waist, and Satoru’s fingers tangle tight in Suguru’s hair, desperate to hold onto the feeling.
Fortunately, Satoru is a quick learner. He's never been into dating, he's never even had a crush on someone probably, and of course he's never kissed anyone before. But the desire crawling under his skin right now is enough to make his limbs move on their own. He can't get enough of that taste, and he feels incredibly awkward when Suguru is the one to break them apart, gently gasping for air. Satoru’s lips are swollen, he's sporting a deep red flushing his cheeks and ears for the pure embarrassment of being the more insistent one of the two. His mind is spinning, and he needs to touch his lips once again to confirm that what just happened is real.
Suguru can't stop himself from scoffing a laugh at the view. He'd never thought his best friend's response was going to be this positive. “You hungry?” he teases.
The white haired boy bites off his swollen lips as to get grounded, while his eyes wander around not to meet his best friend's ones. “Might be,” he mumbles nonchalantly, but his breathless voice betrays him. There's nothing nonchalant in what happened at all, and they both know.
Suguru gently brushes his fingertips along Satoru’s side, before slowly removing his hands from his waist. A delicate, almost reverent gesture that feels like a whisper of unspoken truths. His laugh is soft in reply, like the gentle ripple of a tranquil lake, warm and sincere, and Satoru’s shoulders, still tense from all the emotions built up, begin to loosen, as if a burden he never knew he carried has started to lift. Suguru senses that quiet, almost sacred release as if a dam within Satoru’s heart has broken, releasing a flood of feelings they couldn’t find words for.
Suguru’s relief is a quiet song in his chest, a melody born from hope and a touch of selfish longing. He’s dreamt of this moment, of the chance that the feelings buried deep within might finally surface. If someone had asked him yesterday how likely it was, he would have shrugged, hiding behind a mask of nonchalance, convinced that the universe was cruelly playing with him, dangling love just beyond reach. But now, everything feels like the dawn breaking after a long, restless night. His smile, slow and genuine, is a sunrise in miniature, promising new beginnings, soft and warm against the cool shadows of doubt and hesitation.
“Feeling better?” Suguru’s voice dips into the air like a gentle breeze, tender and reassuring, carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken words. His question is simple, yet it’s a bridge built for a whispered invitation to step across from uncertainty into something brighter.
Satoru nods slowly, still embarrassed by the way he was practically eating his best friend's face a few moments ago. His cheeks still tinged with the blush of vulnerability, a flush that feels like the first warm rays of sunlight after a storm. He feels the warmth bloom within him, a strange, intoxicating mixture of relief and disbelief, as if he’s just discovered a secret hidden within himself. His mind spins with the aftermath of what just happened, still somehow caught in the taste of Suguru’s lips lingering in his mouth, and the gentle pressure of Suguru’s hand burning under the crippled shirt covering the burning skin of his waist. He feels something new, something fragile, fluttering in his chest that refuses to settle. A delicate flame, flickering fiercely before settling into a warm glow.
He hadn’t considered Suguru in that way before, not in the conscious realm of his thoughts. Their friendship had been a tapestry woven with shared secrets, teasing smiles, and laughter echoing beneath the sky. But now, the threads of that tapestry are shimmering with a different hue, brighter and more vibrant, as if a new colour has been added. The unspoken lines between friendship and love have blurred into a watercolour wash, beautiful yet uncertain.
For as long as he's lived, he's never liked to feel uncertain. It’s like planting seeds in unfamiliar soil, and all you've got is the hope that something will grow, and you won't know until you patiently wait for it to happen. Patience is not his thing, though. That's a Suguru thing. But, well, at least he can say that one of them might be able to lead the way through the labyrinth of emotions they've stumbled into. He feels like a child just learning to walk, like a sailor without a compass, navigating feelings he doesn't even know how to name.
Though, it's become pretty clear he can’t suppress these feelings anymore. And, truth to be said, he doesn't even want to. The denial, the pretending that only friendship existed, crumbles like dry leaves beneath his feet. And deep within, he knows instinctively that Suguru feels the same. The way Suguru’s smile lingers, that foolish, idiotic grin that’s still etched on his face, is a silent confession, louder than words. Suguru’s happiness is an open window into his soul, shining through when they’re alone, away from prying eyes and the weight of expectations.
The silence stretches comfortably around them for just enough time to catch their breaths. In that suspended moment, Suguru is very much not sly while reaching for Satoru's hand to hold it warmly, fingers intertwining softly like two streams merging into one. His touch is gentle, yet it carries the strength of a mountain’s foundation, grounding Satoru in certainty. It’s as if Suguru’s hand is a lighthouse, guiding him through the fog of confusion toward a safe harbor.
He's still preserving a way too adorable and accomplished smile that turns up his lips. Suguru has got a beautiful laugh, a gift of nature, just as his whole presence itself. Yet, most of the times, he's not quick to laugh heartfelty, just as he's not truly smiling with his eyes in every other occasion. He practically wears a polite smile for most of the day, reserved for when people talk to him, and sometimes forces himself to laugh at jokes he doesn't even find funny. But when he's around Satoru only, when they're alone, Suguru becomes truly sincere. He would look more annoyed than smiley, would frown more often than laugh, but would also show the most beautiful and genuine smiles, because too many times he can't hide the fondness he feels towards Satoru.
And maybe Satoru has never noticed, but the people around them surely have. It was pretty clear, in fact. The only clueless one has always been Satoru himself. And that is up for talk when he finally speak again, a clueless childish look in his eyes, “...How did you know?”
The question escapes Satoru’s lips, fragile as delicate glass, wide-eyed with innocence. It’s as if he’s only just begun to see the outline of a secret that’s been painted right in front of him all along — Suguru’s feelings, the subtle signs he missed, the quiet love that has been waiting patiently behind the curtain of their friendship.
Suguru, ever the keen observer, catches the faint tremor in Satoru’s hand, the flicker of doubt flickering behind those intense blue eyes, clear like a window — sharp, honest and transparent. He’s seen that look before, the way Satoru’s mind races to catch up with his heart, trying to decipher feelings still cloaked in innocence and chaos. Despite his calm exterior, Suguru feels a surge of tenderness burning fiercely beneath his composed exterior. Watching Satoru now, so vulnerable yet so beautiful, makes Suguru’s heart ache with longing.
He tilts his head softly, looking at the boy’s adorable, bewildered face with affection, and casually caressing the back of his hand in a comforting gesture. “I sensed it,” he states easily. Still, he doesn't dare leave Satoru's hand even for a second, as he instead start drawing invisible circles with his thumb on his pale skin. “I've been through it too, sometime ago,” he admits, almost too carefree.
Satoru’s brow furrows, confusion flickering across his face, his stomach tightens with a flutter, like a butterfly struggling to break free from its cocoon. “...What?” his reply is quick, Suguru’s reply is quick, spontaneous, yet it resonates like a chord struck deep in his chest.
“Jealousy,” Suguru replies fast, as it was obvious that he's been dealing with that heavy, exhausting, and hard to let go grudge.
Of course, he's been there before. Of course, he's been a prisoner of that same storm — jealousy, longing, helplessness wrapped in a fragile shell. He remembers how it clawed at him, how it threatened to consume him whole, how he learned to hide it behind a mask painted in shades of indifference. But now he can let that mask slip, just a little, because Satoru is finally opening up.
Satoru frowns, maybe even more confused than before. It’s strange to see Suguru so open — he's probably got too used to his natural way of hiding his feelings behind a cool, effortless exterior. Though, he should've expected it to come, because when Suguru is sincere it's also much more straightforward than him. Yet, he still doesn't understand what jealousy has to do with him.
The dark haired boy sighs, easily reading his best friend's confusion, and he scoffs a small laugh at that. “You're more popular than me, y'know? It's been a hassle to deal with that,” he adds, exposing himself with no shame at all.
Satoru might've received less chocolate than him, maybe, but that was just because he's never been as approachable as Suguru. Satoru's personality is too bubbly, definitely too sassy, and possibly even too cocky. It's basically a bit too excessive, and that often gets two simple reactions: it either scares people off or annoys them. Yet, he's still very popular because he's good at anything he does, and also because he's probably got the prettiest face that school has ever seen in their yearbooks since the very day it was founded.
That's why Suguru realising to be in love with him was a very tragedy at first, because someday he woke up and started hating whoever was breathing next to his best friend. Fortunately, he was too much of a saint to make a fuss about it, and also too much aware of the consequences to actually show his true feelings. He concealed them allowing himself to covertly steal a little more time off Satoru's schedule. Though, even if he made sure that Satoru didn't notice it, the same couldn't be said for the people surrounding them. It was more often than not that whoever was talking to Satoru for too long, or clinging a little too close to him, would end up getting stricken by the deadliest glares Suguru could muster. Just during the last few months, many said his aura could be terrifying when he was not smiling. But then again, that was just him unconsciously marking his territory — and that included a whole few meters of diameter around Satoru.
Suguru can understand jealousy better than anyone. He's fought with the flickering doubt following the flame of desire for many months, yet, like a thorn in the side, jealousy pricked and persisted long after the initial sting. He's mastered the art of concealing it for the sake of his friendship, so that now he can easily dismiss those feelings with a laugh, but it took him half a year to reach that almost-nonchalant level of control over his jealousy.
He has to thank the fact that he was probably just naturally born good at managing his own emotions — or possibly it was just the many years of resilient and involuntary practice because of growing up in a sterile, cold place that did never welcome being too expansive or too emotional. Yet, he wasn't expecting Satoru to haven't really noticed anything.
Satoru’s mind spins, trying to grasp the enormity of what he’s just heard. Suguru, the calm, collected one, has been fighting this feeling all along? All those times he thought Suguru was just teasing, just joking— his jaw almost drops. He is completely shocked and doesn't even try to hide it. It’s almost surreal how Satoru had always thought of Suguru as the unshakable anchor of their friendship, the one who kept everything grounded, and now, he's bound to apprehend that apparently Suguru has been in that storm before him. Once again, Suguru is just too good, even when it comes to hide his feelings.
Suguru’s love for him has been a quiet whisper in the dark for long, and Satoru hasn't ever caught a glimpse of the vast and deep ocean ready to drown them both in its waves. And those wide, blue irises are now staring at Suguru as if they could pierce a hole through him by just staring. “You were jealous of me???” he yells in a whisper, voice trembling with disbelief, as if he’s discovering the sun rises in the west.
Suguru simply raises an eyebrow, a smirk curling at his lips, though his dark violet eyes are serious and unwavering. “What do you mean? I am jealous of you every day.”
Satoru blinks a few time in disbelief, his voice shaking in incredulity. “...Really?” he asks, but that's a question more for himself than for Suguru. In fact, he promptly make up another question in a rush of shock, this time almost yelling, “How the fuck do you manage to conceal it??”
Suguru can't help himself but laugh at that clueless reaction. His laugh is a warm sound that feels like sunlight pouring through a window after a storm. His smile is relaxed, easy, the kind of smile that only comes when he’s truly at peace. “You really never suspected it? Woah, Satoru, you’re so stupid.”
The white haired boy immediately covers his face with his free hand, rubbing the delicate skin of his cheeks as if trying to scrub away the blush that’s burning there. But he simply flushes again in a rush of embarrassment for having been so blind for who knows how long.
“Oh shut the fuck up, asshole,” he mumbles, trying to dismiss the shame of his own stupidity and the overwhelming realisation of being loved. He can't believe Suguru may have spent who knows how many weeks or months — or years??? — waiting for him to realise his own feelings, while Satoru blundered through their friendship, oblivious to everything. He’s not exactly sure whether to feel flattered, terrified, or just plain stupid. Probably all three.
He doesn't know if acknowledging his best friend's devotion is good for him, because he just feels more idiotic with the seconds passing, but now it's a bit too late to question it. He knows now, or at least he thinks he quite of understands what's going on. But just to better check, he bites down his tongue and muster up the courage to actually ask the most embarrassing thing of the day, voice thin and stuttering as it's never been before. “So... You- uhm- you like... me?”
Suguru looks at him, his gaze deep and searching, as if trying to read the very fabric of his soul. After months of dismissing his own feelings, his first reaction would instinctively be to shake his head and laugh it off as foolishness. That question is so obvious in his eyes that it probably doesn't even need a reply. Though, he can clearly sense Satoru's insecurities behind his awkwardness. The way he diverted his gaze while appealing to that childish question is enough for Suguru to decide to treat it with the utmost care.
He gently brushes his thumb upon Satoru's hand a few more times in silence, letting the question linger in the air for just as much time as needed to let Satoru settle with its weight. Because, after all, Suguru didn't need time to think about it — he's already had the reply ready on his tongue the very moment his ears heard the easiest question he could get.
“Yeah, of course I like you. A lot, actually,” he speaks with a calm and serious enough tone to bring the deserved thickness to his words. He wanted them to have depth, but also wanted them to be comforting and not oppressive. He simply wants Satoru to know his feelings, and then let him decide what to do with them. He paused bright, letting a short laugh fill the silence as to finally catch back his best friend's attention. “To be honest, I don't think there ever was a time where I haven't liked you. I just had to realise it,” he adds calmly, his voice unwavering, a soft smile tugging at his lips.
Satoru’s eyes are locked on Suguru’s, lost in the depths of those violet pools that seem to hold the stars themselves as he confesses that absurd enough truth. Not that he doesn't believe it — those eyes are too honest and too full of love to be lying. The sincere smile on Suguru's lips just a quiet confirmation he's not imagining things. And that's why Satoru believes it.
Yet, it’s terrifying — the idea that someone so perfect could love someone like him, a loud, annoying, sometimes clueless brat like him. Maybe, the fact he believes it, it's the most difficult part to accept. He feels almost guilty. And it's absurd, because the almighty Satoru Gojo, of course, would deserve only the bestest best. But truth to be said, his life without Suguru would be pretty empty, and his whole personality would be just obnoxious without his lovely counterpart to balance it.
Suguru perfectly knows when to play around or when to stop him from doing something too stupid, as much as he knows when to tease him back or when to cut things off before one of them could get hurt. Suguru just knows everything when it comes to Satoru. He knows how to read through him, just as he's done today. And he knows how to comfort him, just as he's doing now. And maybe Satoru for the first time in his life thinks he's been a little too blessed, a little too lucky.
Feelings have always been a complicated topic for Satoru — the clumsy boy who still doesn't know how to differentiate basic stuff like annoyance and affection. He's got no real experience with strong emotions, and neither he can really tell what love feels like, and if he was asked now, he still couldn't know how to reply. He'd probably say it feels like wanting to kill anyone interacting with his love interest. He'd also say it feels like wanting to cling to his person and possibly stick his tongue in his mouth until his senses go numb. And both things were so poorly romantic that they would sound iconically comedian. Especially if compared to the way Suguru just blurted out one of the cheesiest things he's ever heard in movies as if it was nothing. But, fortunately, that's a conversation bound to remain in his head because nobody is interrogating him about that.
He finally sighs softly, his eyes burning blue as he eventually smiles back at his newly found lover, yet still best friend. It feels like he's just painted the first brushstroke on a blank canvas — a full of potential, vibrant with hope, deep with colour brush. It's just a single brush and he still can't imagine what the subject of the paint is, he still doesn't know how it will turn out and what it will look like... but he's putting away the fear of having just ruined a canvas, because he's sure that painting will get completed somehow. And he really doesn’t want to let go of this feeling, no matter how new or confusing or terrifying it might be.
He finally exhales softly, a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. His gaze softens, a shy, tender smile blooming on his lips — like the first flower of spring after a long winter. The smile is sweet, a bit embarrassed still, a bit childish, but Suguru finds it to perfectly fit him, because it's a sincere smile from a person who's just discovered a whole new world. And he doesn't expect anything more from Satoru.
In fact, Suguru simply stands up with the smile still warm on his lips, hinting at Satoru to follow him. He doesn't wait for a reply, because he doesn't need one out loud. Instead, he shifts the conversation elsewhere. “What about I'm buying you a snack before going back inside? C'mon,” he says keenly, his energy seemingly to be finally returned after the tiring morning.
And Satoru nods, feeling lighter than he has in ages. The tension that had knotted his chest dissolves like mist under the morning sun. The storm inside him has calmed, replaced by a quiet, bubbling happiness. Thinking about the newly unlocked feelings and the lastly achieved realisations cannot scare him right now, because he's with his favourite person, and nothing can ruin his mood. He tightens the hold on Suguru's hand, a silent declaration of trust and hope, and he just stands up and follows him with a widening smile.
˖ ⊹ ࣪ ﹏﹏⛇☃︎﹏﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖
Satoru has gladly accepted his best friend's and newly found lover's idea of buying a snack. After all, it was almost lunch time and he felt the urging need to stave off the burnout from so many things swirling in his mind. After devouring two whole crepes and a strawberry milkshake, he was high in sugar again when they came back to school, trying to regroup with their friends at the cafeteria. The sweet taste lingers on his tongue, a fleeting comfort, and also a decently fair substitute for the void that the taste of Suguru's lips had left. It’s almost comical how something so simple as sugar can momentarily distract him from the chaos inside his head, keeping him floating between his fragile kind of peace.
Suguru hadn’t let go of his hand until they crossed the threshold of the building. He’s aware, on some level, that it’s probably just a knee jerk reaction to avoid raising suspicion from the people watching. In fact, the black haired boy looked at him with the utmost fond smile even as he put his hands back in his pockets.
Instinctively Satoru knows that it makes sense to keep things just normal, especially because they are already close enough as it is. Funnily enough, rumours about them started before they even got to understand their own feelings, and now there was really no need to fuel them. Still, Satoru feels the loss immediately, a dull ache in his chest that lingers as he watches Suguru’s back, walking just one step ahead of him. He’s already missing him.
They brush past the chaos at the entrance, and Suguru’s gaze finds Nanami’s blond head at a table, who is surely busy reordering his notes from the previous lectures, as always. The rest of the group chat animatedly, their voices blending into a familiar hum that makes Satoru momentarily forget about the rage that simmered inside him all morning, and all of his upset moods caused by the simple fact that it’s Valentine’s Day. A day that’s supposed to be sweet, but for him, turned out like just a reminder of everything he’s afraid of losing, or even afraid of wanting.
He takes a seat at the table — occupying at least two spots on the bench, just because he can't sit normally — and casually joins the conversation as Haibara keeps blabbering about his trip in Europe. His body feels restless, like a coil wound too tight, craving to explode or escape. Still, he manages to easily blend in with the light mood. His friends genuinely surprised to see him acting as his annoying self again.
His eyes discreetly drift to Suguru, who'd immediately get stolen by Shoko. The girl leaped up as soon as they arrived, grabbing her cigarettes and promptly tugging at Suguru's shoulder to get his attention. It's like she's been waiting for him to go smoke, and it probably is exactly like that. Nobody would even think of bumming a cig from her when she's around Suguru, and that's still to be known if it's because of Suguru's dark aura or because people won't feel comfortable interrupting their interactions.
Possibly, that's because they've always looked close enough to be easily mistaken by a couple, especially when sharing the intimate act of sharing a cigarette in some secluded spot of the courtyard. And, truth to be said, for them it's always been a real bonding moment in which they would talk about anything. Shoko has spilled most of her deepest thoughts or secrets to Suguru with a cigarette between her fingers, and she never regretted it because she's always felt comfortable around him. Suguru has always treated her with the utmost respect, yet never missing to make her feel on an equal footing.
She doesn't mind that Suguru is openly stealing at least a few cigarettes per day, if it means being able to share their cancerous addiction in a friendly moment together. That's because Suguru rarely buys his own packs anymore nowadays; he's actually trying to loosen the grip nicotine has on him. Unfortunately, not out of kindness towards himself, but because Satoru doesn't really like the smell of tobacco. Of course, Satoru has never asked him to stop, it's just out of his own devotion that he carries that trials on, so he's been stopping buying cigarettes' packs by himself for a few months now.
As of consequence, it's become some unspoken mutual agreement as Shoko shares her cigarettes in order to get Suguru's company, and the boy only carries his lighter in his pocket to lit up both of their cancer sticks when it's moment to. At least now he's smoking less and Satoru quit on lamenting about how much he'd been suffering the smell on the t-shirts he shamelessly steals from Suguru's closet. All because ‘the smell of cigarettes was covering up his scent’, or at least that's what Satoru tragically said. And now that Suguru can think about it in the light of the events of the day, he can see the glint of Satoru's jealousy in that stupid take, too. He can't refrain a little chuckle at that thought, as he lits up his own cig.
Shoko doesn't even bother asking him what's he thinking about, or where did they go missing, because she's already perfectly aware that whatever the reply might be, it has to be something Satoru related. And, since Suguru looks perfectly fine and Satoru seems completely healed from his hysterical behaviour of that morning, she simply let the topic flow past her. Suguru’s ability to navigate Satoru’s tangled, fiery personality never ceases to impress her. It’s like they speak a language only they understand, and move around a path of patience and understanding that goes beyond words. Due to that, the last thing she wants to meddle in is her best friends' affairs, especially because she's pretty much aware that their stupid asses probably know less about their selves than what she's been guessing about them during the last few years.
That's why she'd rather just talk about how boring the literature lecture was, and how Yaga sensei repeatedly threatened the whole group of them because of Suguru and Satoru absence. Apparently, in the teacher's eyes, the whole group was perceived as some single entity that deserved to be scolded together every time one of them was defecting rules. Yaga sensei never failed to backdrop them to that annoying echo of discipline, reminding them of how they’re all just students caught in the web of rules and expectations.
Suguru can simply laugh at her annoyed tale as she rolls her eyes multiple times through it. Even if she didn't make it obvious, though, she's clearly relieved that her closest friends came back from their little run-away together, seemingly in peace again. Apparently, Suguru was right when he said that they should just give Satoru time, and that he would've been fine before lunch time. Sometimes, she still can't understand how the connection between those two worked, but she was always amazed by how they managed to fix anything by simply being together.
She barely realises her thoughts have drifted again, as she doesn't even notices her cigarette dying out, a little too caught in her own mind as always. Suguru has already discarded his finished cig and is calling for her to come back inside the cafeteria. She sighs, kind of displeased that their smoke break is already over. The frigid February breeze making itself sound with the afternoon approaching.
She gets through the entrance door, but she walks past Suguru as soon as she realises, with a smirk of disbelief, that he's being detained again by some girl clearly approaching him for Valentine's. Shoko remembers seeing her a few times before, somewhere in one of their classes — Manami must be her name, if she's not wrong.
When it comes to girls, Shoko is rarely wrong. She's probably the most expert of their group of friends. Also, it's easy when the girl in question stands so much by the crowd because of her pinkish dyed hair and composed figure. In fact, she's probably been the most mannered and respectful person that's actually approached Geto since that morning.
“Geto-san, glad to meet you again outside class for once,” she greets with a bow. Her long lashes making her gaze definitely more intense than due, but not vulgar. Though, her implication maybe a bit too forward for their almost non existent level of closeness.
Suguru welcomes her with a polite smile, anyway. “Of course, Manami-san.”
She nods with the hint of a smile on her lips, and just lends him a clearly handmade crafted box. “I wanted to thank you for the help with the mid-term exams... Thought it would be a good idea to bake something for you for the occasion. I hope you can accept my gift and enjoy them,” she explains with a tone a bit too reverent for a girl trying to hit on a classmate. Her tentative gesture of gratitude feels more like admiration for a mentor than an actual flirt.
Yet, from a distance, this detail can probably be overlooked, because Suguru responds politely, accepting her gift out of kindness and respect.
And that's enough for poor Satoru to feel the sting of anger burn in his lungs again. His brain has started itching since the very moment he noticed the girl next to Suguru, but now he can't stand looking anymore.
He eyes Shoko, trying to get her help brushing the girl off Suguru, but his friend is practically minding her own business on her phone, ignoring the talk purposely because she can't care less to fit in the frame. Gojo rolls his eyes at the realisation that she turns really useless when it comes to his ‘problems’, and he glares at the scene like a cat offended that his human is not pampering him with attentions.
At this point, he can't find the strength to force himself down on his own seat. He very very needs to fit in the frame. This will not happen right in front of his salad again. He's done of being the spectator of that cheap boring act.
He watches Suguru, standing there, awfully composed as he takes the umpteenth chocolate of the day, oblivious to the storm simmering behind Satoru’s gaze. His chest tightening as he sees Suguru take the chocolate box, appearing so damn unaffected. He’s so effortlessly perfect, Satoru thinks, while himself is being just a stupid, jealous mess. His fists clench subtly at his sides, a mixture of frustration and helplessness brewing inside him. It’s a familiar feeling, the kind that makes his stomach churn with a strange blend of admiration and resentment, the kind he hates because it reminds him how much he probably doesn't deserve Suguru at all.
His Suguru is just a bit too handsome, a bit too breathtaking, standing like there with the backpack slung across one of his large shoulders, one hand dismissively hidden in his black sweatpants' pocket, his gorgeous dark hair a little messed up from the outside wind. Right now, without any doubt, he could be a perfect subject for his art class. And the fact that he's walking himself around like that for someone else to watch, almost unconscious of how good he looks, is infuriating for Satoru.
His own body tenses with the rising of the primal urge of gripping what he feels might slip away if he's not taking action quick enough. He knows Suguru has just confessed to him less than a hour ago, but jealousy is like a bad habit — easy to fall into, hard to break.
He just can’t stand the scene unfolding in front of his eyes, starting from the way Suguru’s attention was diverted from him, to the way someone else’s affection is so clearly directed at him. No, he really can't stand that. He feels his grip on his own emotions slipping, and he’s desperate to assert himself, to claim Suguru’s focus, even if only for a moment.
He stands up abruptly, his gaze sharpens in a silent challenge.
And just as suddenly, Suguru’s attention snaps away from the girl, and Satoru’s heart skips a beat. Suguru can't even properly finish thanking the girl, that he gets harshly interrupted by a very familiar voice yelling his name loud and carefree, for the whole cafeteria to hear, shattering the fragile calm.
“SUGURUUUU!! CATCH ME!!”
Before Suguru can react, Satoru is already sprinting toward him, a reckless burst of energy fueled by a mixture of affection and defiance. He barely has time to turn to his best friend's voice getting closer that he finds himself literally invested by the dead weight of the taller boy climbing onto him.
Fortunately, Suguru's reflexes are more than simply quick — they're literally used to Satoru Gojo, and that's a whole different level of quickness. The contact is instant, their bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces despite the crash.
It doesn't take more than a bare moment for the ravenette boy to grab on Satoru's body and steady himself on his strong legs, miraculously avoiding them both to tumble to the ground for half the school's students to call them idiots. The box of chocolates quickly forgotten, just as the poor girl abruptly kicked out of the frame.
“Are you trying to kill us both, dumbass??” He's fast to scold Satoru in return for his sudden and careless interruption. Yet, his arms went immediately wrapping Satoru's lean figure protectively. One arm slouched tightly around his shoulders and the other one gripping firmly around his thighs. Grip so tight that Satoru's thighs are unavoidably squeezed together, leaving him with not one chance to slip away even if he tried to.
And Satoru knows his annoyed scolding is utterly insignificant when he feels so incredibly safe between his favourite person's arms. Though, he hasn't thought about what to do once landed there, and their proximity is making his pulse race uncontrollably. That's why he ignores Suguru and tries to turn away, focusing on his other friend.
“Shokooooo!!” he calls, flattering his white long lashes as he hugs his lover's neck with one arm, feigning nonchalance. “...Don't I make a beautiful princess? Do I look cute enough??” he questions with an adorable pout on his lips. He leans into the embrace as he speaks, a childish smile curling on his lips, savouring the feeling of being held, of being the centre of Suguru’s attention.
Suguru truly doesn't know how Shoko can be utterly unaffected by how adorable Satoru looks right now, because she simply frowns at him. “You look stupid,” she states, seemingly bothered by the stupidity itself.
Yet Suguru barely lets that reply hit his princess, as he quickly overwrites the sound of that harsh remark with his own warm voice. “You look incredibly cute,” he whispers right in his lover's ear.
Satoru's eyes flick to Suguru, wide with playful innocence, as they turn bright from surprise. He looks particularly affected by that unexpected act, as his ears flush red and he diverts his stare. His lips part slowly in a spontaneous reaction to reply something, but no sound gets past them. He's once again left wordless in just a couple hours, and again because of the same person. He bites down his lower lip, gazing at Suguru with the corner of his eyes, just enough to spot the big smirk of satisfaction on his damn lips.
No, Satoru will not acknowledge him right now, he's got too much pride to openly boost Suguru's ego like that. He's focusing on Shoko again, then. “C'mon Shoko! Take a picture for me?” he pleads with his eyes big as a puppy, yet his mischievous aura completely ruins it. His voice is light, but inside, he’s craving to have a memory as proof that Suguru’s affection isn’t just a fleeting thing, that they are real.
“Did you ever learn to ask please?” Shoko snorts, rolling her eyes. Though, she's opening the camera app on her phone anyway.
Suguru then sighs in exasperation. He really is not currently in a position to stand a fight between his two best friends. “Please, Shoko, do it before my arms fall,” he demands fairly. He knows full well that Satoru is not going to ask ‘please’, because it would hurt his pride too much to rephrase his request again.
Satoru clicks his tongue, instead, “Hmph. Weakling.” His comment not delayed by the situation, of course. He doesn't even care about the option that Suguru might just randomly drop him and let him fall flat ass on the ground. Of course, Suguru wouldn't, and Satoru knows too, unfortunately.
The ravenette boy simply furrows his brows in reply, clearly amused by the challenge. “Me? Weakling?” he repeats, confident enough as his strengthen his grip over his ‘princess’. His grin widens on his lips as he directs a wholesome and very much explicit gaze toward the boy between his arms. “Anyway, i could always take you.”
Satoru snorts a short laugh, rolling his eyes without even looking at Suguru. “In a fight?” he teases, feigning a full prideful look for the fact that more often than not Suguru would let him win all their arguments anyway. Mind it was verbal or physical. Though, when he doesn't get any reply, Satoru finally turns again to look at his best friend's expressions and he's met with the most terrifying grin he's ever seen on his face.
“In a fight, right??”, he almost squeaks in place. Second hand embarrassment for not having caught the flirtatious double meaning and panic settle together under Satoru's skin. And, very suddenly, his pride gets washed away from him by the very cold shower of the realisation of being the prey in this fairy tale, and not the predator. He pulls another theatrical act as he pushes Suguru's shoulders and starts squirming like a fish caught in a net. “Oh gosh, let me down, you pervert!!” he blurts a little too loud for people not to hear. A warm red flush running to his cheeks and ears as if he wasn't the one starting it.
Suguru can't help but laugh at his best friend's antics, despite having the subtle knowledge that, once again for the day, he's the undesired centre of attention. He blushes involuntarily for the embarrassment of the people watching, but that can't be enough to silence his good moods. Eventually, he loosens his grip on his best friend carefully, letting him finally go while he tries to quiet down the overwhelming happiness in his chest.
He's been so busy gravitating around Satoru that he's not even noticed Shoko had actually taken their pictures. Much less he's actually realised how many actual eyes were watching them — the attentive ones who were busy judging their loud idiocies, the jealous ones who wanted to be like them, the uninterested ones who spare them a look of disapproval, and finally the soft ones who genuinely found it all entertaining for just the sake of the special bond between the two. They've even received a fond smile from Nanami Kento in person, and Suguru will always mourn that he missed this moment because he was too busy having eyes only for the love of his life.
But that's not the time to mourn yet. He's way too happy right now, overwhelmed by the joy of this absurd, beautiful chaos that's his life.
And in that happiness, Suguru knows: no matter what the world throws at them, if he has Satoru he can overcome anything. That’s all that truly matters.
˖ ⊹ ࣪ ﹏﹏⛇☃︎﹏﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖