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Suguru isn’t in love with Satoru.
He loves Satoru, yes, without a doubt. Satoru is his best friend. Satoru calls him his “one and only” and whenever he does that, it makes Suguru’s chest feel funny, like a spear to the heart.
Satoru was by his side since they were almost fifteen years old, first years. He remembers the moment when they met like it happened yesterday, and not over a year ago.
Suguru was surrounded by boxes inside and outside his dorm, procrastinating unpacking them. He was sitting outside, phone to his ear, calling his mother.
She sounded well, a little worried because her son was in school, and not just any school, but a school that doesn’t necessarily guarantee Suguru’s safety. But she said he understood why he needed to go. Her son has a talent that she didn’t really understand, he sees things that she couldn’t see, and Jujutsu High could help him use his talents for good. This is what she at least told Suguru to help appease the lump in his throat.
Suguru was on the phone with his mom and a boy flings open the door outside with zero regard to what Suguru might be doing.
“Gooood morning sunshine!” Suguru hears behind him, startling Suguru to where he almost drops his phone.
Suguru whirls around and points to his phone cradled on his ear, signaling that some people might be busy.
The first thing Suguru notices is the boy’s hair, stark white in comparison to his own black locks. It stood in all directions with no form or reason, kind of like a snowstorm. When Suguru traces his eyes away from the hair, he actually does drop his phone.
The phone falls to the ground with a soft thud as Suguru stands, kind of entranced for a second.
The boy’s eyes were big and blue, but there was a beauty to them that was unmistakable. Like a once in a lifetime kind of thing. Like the thing that an artist would spend a lifetime trying to recreate in their work but never quite get it right.
Because on the surface, the boy’s eyes were like a constellation of blue giant stars, a blue supernova, painting a perfect galactic picture.
But there was so much life in those eyes, widened and round, like the boy had never been touched by a shred of adversity before, or maybe he had, but he never cared to let it linger, instead choosing to be unapologetically himself.
It’s the kind of exuberance that Suguru has never had the privilege of feeling before.
But Suguru is feeling it now, in some weird exchange of transference, and yes, he is kind of annoyed that this stranger barged into his room like that, but the way he shines is the kind of high that Suguru could chase forever.
The boy laughs, kind of nervous, maybe because Suguru is just standing there with no words or retort back. He fishes in his pockets and pulls out a pair of sunglasses and fixes them on.
Suguru uses this moment to no longer be so weird about the eye thing and picks up his phone to tell his mother he will call her back, yeah he’s fine, promise.
Suguru smooths out his face. “Who are you?”
The boy’s jaw drops, exaggerated. He places a hand over his heart. “How do you not know who I am?”
Suguru shrugs. “I’m assuming you’re the other student? The special grade?”
“The other student” has a name! The boy spits out, appalled. “One that you should know!”
“Enlighten me. I’m from the sticks.”
“You must be. I’m Satoru Gojo. The Satoru Gojo.”
Suguru waves his hand. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re the boy who broke into my dorm and interrupted my phone call.”
Satoru scoffs. “Sorry my devastating good looks made you drop your phone, by the way.”
Suguru rolls his eyes. “You’re so full of shit. You just caught me by surprise, Gojo.”
Satoru softens a little bit. “My name is Satoru.”
Suguru looks at the boy with the same amount of softness. “Geto. Suguru Geto.”
Satoru moseys over, wrapping his arm around Suguru. “I like that you don’t know who I am, Suguru. Do you want to go to the konbini? I really need some snacks.”
Satoru feels so warm, strong yet soft. Suguru stiffens at the contact and the immediate use of his first name. “I need to unpack.”
“I’ll have my servants unpack for you. Since you are my friend now.”
Suguru looks over warily at Satoru. “You have servants? You think we are friends?”
Gojo grins wildly, fangs bared. “The best of friends.”
They do go to the konbini, and a hundred times after that, as the months turn into over a year.
Suguru finds out quickly that Satoru is the embodiment of everything good in the world with a wicked sweet tooth.
This was apparent when Satoru bought out all the mochi from the konbini without batting an eye, then promptly offering it all to Suguru.
Satoru is also stupid powerful, Suguru realizes.
His movements were always quick and direct, his cursed technique getting stronger by the day. Suguru learned that the boy was born with Six Eyes and Limitless, the first of their kind in four hundred years. That would explain the unreal eyes.
Yet Suguru tried hard to treat Satoru as an equal, because Satoru appreciated it.
Satoru appreciated that Suguru loved Satoru for who he is, just another boy who goes to a special school. Satoru might have a small advantage over Suguru with cursed techniques, but Suguru spent his entire childhood practicing his martial arts. Suguru tended to win when they were sparring with fists only and Satoru appreciated it.
And Satoru was delighted to know that Suguru used curse manipulation. He was the first person ever in Suguru’s life that wasn’t disgusted with his technique. It made Suguru’s gut do a funny thing.
Their friend, Shoko, filled Suguru in with the details of Satoru’s lore. And Satoru, the conversationalist he is, told Suguru about his upbringing.
Satoru is spoiled, but a little lonely, Suguru realizes.
Satoru was put on a pedestal since his birth, but no one ever bothered to get to know the boy behind the power. That became Suguru’s job.
Suguru tried his best to show it in the small actions. For example, he promptly bought a newer, better pair of blackout sunglasses for Satoru when Satoru started complaining about his eyes. He always spent extra money at the konbini for candy to put in his pocket, just in case, when he spends time with his best friend.
Because they were nothing less than best friends. Satoru decided on it that fateful day, and Suguru accepted it readily.
Suguru isn’t in love with Satoru when they fight curses together.
Yaga sends the two boys on another mission, located in an abandoned school in the outskirts of Kamakura.
Satoru was bubbling with excitement, a lollipop swirling in his mouth, thanks to Suguru’s pockets. His eyes were bright and his steps were light and animated as they reached the doors.
Suguru watches as Satoru recites the incantation and a dark purple veil slowly descends around the school.
Satoru kicks down the door with his hands in his pockets and Suguru follows behind. The lollipop is still hanging out of his mouth.
They walk the dark corridors. It smelled like old rotting wood and the walls were peeling muted colors. The classrooms were stripped bare, the chalkboards dark green and stale. There are a couple of scattered desks on wobbly legs.
Suguru feels his skin crawl in the third dark classroom.
He whirls around. “Satoru!” He yells.
The ceiling falls on top of Satoru, large slabs on concrete tumbling forward. Suguru jumps to the side and narrowly misses a cinder block tumbling on his head.
The dust settles. Satoru just stands there, lollipop still dangling out of his mouth as he is surrounded by the rubble and wreckage. The Infinity around him illuminates his boy like a halo.
“Huh.” He muses, adjusting his glasses.
The curse bursts free out of the debris, an insect looking thing with twelve eyes and four legs and wings. It charges at Satoru.
Satoru punches the curse with skilled fists in multiple successions, knocking it down to its knees. Satoru delivers a swift kick to its head.
Suguru releases a curse of his own, a purple monster of multiple globules and it charges towards the insect.
Suguru’s curse charges after the target after Satoru raises his hand and blasts the target through a wall, disorienting it.
The two curses fight among the wreckage before Satoru gets bored.
Not that he was really that bored, Suguru muses.
Satoru’s hair is sticking in all directions, energy and infinity buzzing in quick succession, and his wondrous blue eyes are widened and frenzied. The lollipop is stuck in his cheek as he sports a broad, brilliant grin. He is in his element.
Suguru realizes how powerful his best friend is when Satoru lifts his hands and watches Blue form between his fingertips.
In a brilliant flash of light, Blue blasts straight towards the insect, completely demolishing the curse. Splashes of purple blood spatter in all directions, bouncing off of Satoru and painting Suguru’s face. The curse is reduced to a ball of matter, writhing and screaming.
Satoru rolls his eyes. “Easy peasy.” But Suguru could sense the enthusiasm rolling off of him.
The curse was incapacitated thanks to Satoru. It barely put up a fight.
Suguru holds out his hand, watching the curse slowly morph into a round, bright blue ball. He brings it to the mouth, lingering a little bit. He shudders, and closes his eyes.
Now Satoru’s staring.
Suguru opens his mouth, throat expanding, bobbing, as the curse slowly makes his way down his esophagus.
Suguru sighs, immediately feeling a little sick. Not too sick, it wasn’t close to a special grade. He looks over at Satoru, who does not look normal.
Anything but.
Satoru is furiously red. Suguru’s brow furrows. Is he okay?
Satoru’s wide eyes dart at Suguru’s throat, his mouth, and back at his throat. His cheeks, his ears, his collarbones are the color scarlet. His pretty lips are slightly parted. The lollipop falls out and sticks to the floor.
Satoru looks a little dazed. Like Suguru just hit him in the head with a frying pan, hard, and he’s not quite sure how to collect himself after the fact.
“Satoru?” Suguru calls.
Satoru’s eyes snap back up at Suguru’s own, and he manages to close his mouth.
“Uh.”
“You look a little red. How are you feeling?”
Satoru brings his hand up and rubs his neck, looking off to the side. “You’re.. I mean I…” he drops his hand. “Yeah, I’m hot. I think I got too excited fighting curses. Yep. That’s totally it.”
Suguru laughs, wrapping his arm around Satoru’s shoulders. Satoru melts a little bit as they start walking to another room. Yaga did say there were more insects for them to play with.
“You get so excited fighting curses. It’s cute.”
Satoru promptly trips and lands face first in the concrete.
He proceeds to just lay there.
Suguru squats down, eyes probing into the white locks of hair splayed in every direction. He gingerly picks up Satoru's sunglasses next to him, twirling them around in his fingers. Thankfully, they were not broken.
Satoru was in no hurry to get up. He continues to lie face down until Suguru starts to get worried. He takes two fingers and lifts up Satoru’s chin.
Satoru looks up at Suguru. If it was possible to get even redder than before, Satoru was. His cheeks were a delicious crimson. His eyes were swirling with so many emotions that Suguru had a hard time processing the beginning and the end. He squints.
Finally, Satoru speaks. “You think I’m cute?”
Suguru smiles, unbelievably fond.
“The cutest.”
The words drip slowly like honey. Satoru proceeds to slam his head back onto the floor with a thwack.
Suguru isn’t in love with Satoru when they hang out in Suguru’s dorm.
Satoru is playing video games- the new Digimon was released. His fingers slam on the controller as he sits cross-legged on Suguru’s bed. The television glows with the brightly colored characters.
Suguru’s back is on Satoru’s, as he reads a book, using the light from the television and creasing the pages. He can feel Satoru squirming on him and yelling at the television.
They stopped by the konbini before they decided to be shut-ins that night. The rewards are littered around them on the bed- onigiri, melonpan, chips and melon soda. Some of it was half eaten and empty cans spill on the floor.
After a while, Satoru sits us straight, pausing his game and stretches, like a cat.
“Suguruuu.. it’s time to play a game!”
Suguru quirks an eyebrow, and flicks to another page. “A game, hmm?”
Satoru faces Suguru, vibrating with nervous energy. “Yeah, I saw it online, it’s called Never Have I Ever.”
Suguru laughs. “I know that game, Satoru.”
“Perfect. I didn’t want to teach you, anyway.”
Suguru turns, and lightly punches Satoru. “So, get on with it then.”
Satoru holds up both hands, ten long fingers on display. “You first.”
“Hmmm.. never have I ever.. used Blue to take out an entire building on a mission for the sole purpose of blowing something up.”
Satoru lowers a finger and screams. “There was a purpose, Suguru! Maybe you were blind that day, but the building was crawling with curses!”
“Your definition of crawling was a couple measly grade threes, by the way..”
“You’re deaf, too! Get this man a doctor! Yaga said there was a grade two!”
“Which was located in a separate building, Satoru.”
Satoru huffs. “Fine! Never have I ever unleashed a curse in my dorm when my best friend said something that didn’t agree with me!”
“Never have I ever exorcised my best friend’s curse in the privacy of his own dorm!”
“Never have I ever been punished for bringing out curses in my dorm in the first place!”
“You still got in trouble for blasting a hole in my wall!”
“Suguruu! It’s never have I ever been in trouble for blasting a hole in someone’s wall..”
Suguru kicks Satoru square in the chest. “Fine. Never have I ever been twenty minutes late to class, walk in arms full of chips and smoothies, and promptly tell Yaga that the answer is seven. ”
“That happened ages ago!”
“That was yesterday!”
Satoru tackles Suguru. The back of Suguru’s head hits the headboard.
Satoru cages Suguru in, arms on either side. He looks down at Suguru with fire in his eyes. They glow, a little bioluminescent.
Satoru lowers his head by Suguru’s ear. “Okay, smart guy.” He murmurs. “Beat this. Never have I ever had my first kiss.” His breath ghosts over Suguru’s neck.
Satoru straightens. Suguru shivers. His breath catches and looks up helplessly at Satoru. Satoru looks intense, fervent, waiting for Suguru’s response.
The seconds tick by as Satoru towers over Suguru, like Satoru had all the time in the world while Suguru was falling apart.
Really? Satoru’s never kissed anyone?
Satoru was absolutely gorgeous. This cannot be disputed. Suguru has seen the way girls out in public interact with him. Their shy giggles, their red tipped ears. He’s seen girls give Satoru their numbers and how Satoru pockets them, giving them a polite, but indifferent nod.
So Satoru never called any of them? He never even tried?
Why has Satoru never tried?
Satoru cocks his head. “Stop thinking and answer me.”
Suguru looks up and wills himself to breathe. “I haven’t.” He chokes out.
Satoru pulls back and flashes a brilliant smile. “Good.”
Suguru’s mind reels. “What do you mean, good?”
Satoru flushes. “Um, I mean, we’re only sixteen, right? No need to rush anything..”
Suguru sits up, burning hot, and smooths his hair. “Yeah. You’re a menace.” He murmurs, still trying to process what Satoru just said.
Satoru cackles. “Does this mean I win?”
“Screw you. Never have I ever asked a personal question to cheat my way into winning.”
Satoru throws a bag of chips at Suguru’s head. Satoru giggles as the chips fall in his lap.
Suguru isn’t in love with Satoru when Satoru asks to sleep in Suguru’s bed that night.
Snacks were eaten, games were played, and a book was read. Satoru was sleepy. Suguru can see it in the slow blinks. The digital clock on Suguru’s nightstand indicated it was almost midnight.
Satoru blinks again, yawns, and throws his body on Suguru’s bed, pretending to sleep. He wraps Suguru’s blankets around him.
Suguru shakes him. “Satoru!”
Satoru looks up with half-lidded eyes. “Suguru, I have a question.”
Suguru looks down at the blanketed mass. “Sure.”
Satoru looks off to the side, kind of sheepish. He clutches Suguru’s pillow.
“Can I sleep here tonight?”
Suguru stills for a moment. “Uh, yeah, I guess. I can sleep on the couch..”
Satoru’s eyes bore into Suguru’s. “No. With you.”
Suguru’s stomach drops like falling off the precipice of the world’s tallest rollercoaster. His skin lights up in something akin to anticipation.
Satoru is still staring at him, never backing down, waiting for a response.
“Yeah.” Suguru sputters. “Yeah, you can sleep with me.”
Satoru looks nothing short of delighted before throwing his head back on Suguru’s pillow.
Suguru’s thoughts come together with a snap. “Hey.” He says quietly. “You need to change into something for sleep.”
Satoru groans. “No. S’comfy.”
Suguru stands. “Satoru. Do you want me to get you some clothes from your room?”
Satoru waves his hand. “No. I’d rather wear something of yours. It smells like you.”
Suguru’s heart lurches, trying to make sense of Satoru’s behavior. Not that he can ever figure the boy out, anyway.
Still, something possessive seeps into Suguru’s veins. Satoru, wearing his clothes. Satoru, smelling like him. Satoru, belonging to him.
Yeah, he doesn’t mind that one bit.
Suguru rummages in his drawer and picks out an oversized graphic T-shirt and shorts. He throws them on Satoru’s “sleeping” form.
“Go get changed.” Suguru orders.
Satoru grins with his eyes closed, clutching Suguru’s clothes. “Aye aye, captain.”
Satoru slowly, dramatically stands. Suguru was expecting him to walk out to the bathroom, or the living room, anywhere really to get changed.
He was not expecting Satoru to take off his shirt and pants with one exaggerated swoop, right in front of him.
Satoru eyes him kind of calculated, like a wild cat cornering their prey, before turning towards Suguru’s clothes on the bed. He says nothing.
Suguru can’t make sense of the feelings that course through him seeing his best friend in nothing but boxers on.
Satoru has definitely filled out over the time Suguru knew him. His muscles sculpt his torso, but not in a broad, brawny way. It’s more apparent in a lighter, gentler way. His skin looks so smooth, it practically glows. His legs stretch for miles and miles and..
Satoru lifts his shirt over his head, over the long expanse of his neck and shoulders. His muscles tighten up, he inhales, and Suguru feels like he got punched in the chest.
Because Satoru’s body is nothing short of a work of art. Like a sculpture demanding attention in a famous museum. Carved with the painstaking care of a literal genius. A genius who spent a lifetime without eating, without sleeping, dedicated to their craft, to create something that would elicit nothing less than the undying, devoted attention of its onlookers.
Satoru is nothing short of a work of art and Suguru doesn’t deserve to view something so brilliant. He has done nothing to deserve this. Yet, here Satoru stands, in nothing short of Godlike glory, wearing Suguru’s clothes.
Suguru’s shirt falls down Satoru’s torso and Suguru’s shorts hike up his legs.
Satoru’s blissful gaze directed to Suguru confirms that he was caught in the trap after all.
Does Suguru want to escape? Never.
Satoru looks satisfied. He throws himself back on the bed, sleeping on his designated side. He pats Suguru’s side invitingly.
Suguru speaks, cracked. “Let me change first.”
Satoru’s eyes light up. He props himself on his elbows. “Okay! Go ahead!”
The way he says his reply is like an invitation for Suguru not to leave. To undress with an audience. With the audience being someone that leaves him surprisingly vulnerable.
Suguru shakily takes his own shirt off.
Suguru is broader than Satoru, and a little more tan. That’s all he knows. That’s his limited knowledge about himself. He’s just glad at this very moment that his school makes him work out so much.
Suguru unties his hair, letting it go like a waterfall past his shoulders.
He can feel Satoru’s eyes on his body. Suguru looks at Satoru who is unabashedly staring at Suguru shirtless, with zero embarrassment at what he is doing.
Satoru is red like the last time they fought curses. A beautiful ruby, and his eyes look like they are trying to commit Suguru to memory.
“You’re staring.” Suguru comments.
Satoru grins, unashamed. “Yeah, I guess I am.”
Suguru wordlessly puts on his clothes because he doesn’t know what to do with that reply and Satoru stays on his side, waiting for Suguru to join him.
Suguru flips off the light and climbs into bed, wrapping his comforter over the two of them.
They are still facing each other. Satoru looks into Suguru, warm.
“Good night, Suguru.” He smiles.
Suguru smiles back. “Good night, Satoru.”
Satoru immediately closes his eyes and falls asleep.
But sleep always evades Suguru.
It’s been almost an hour, and all Suguru has done is gaze at Satoru sleeping, memorizing the small details.
The moonlight gently seeps through the curtain, illuminating the boy next to him.
Suguru continues to stare at Satoru’s sleeping form, his chest easily rising and falling with each quiet breath. Suguru’s shirt clings to Satoru’s skin. His closed eyelids quickly dart back and forth.
Satoru looks so angelic.
When he’s awake, he’s a God commanding respect from others. When he’s asleep, he’s an angel whose beauty leaves others in awe.
Either way, he should be worshiped. All milky skin and tousled hair and upturned nose and ten freckles of him.
Satoru stirs. His lips part a little bit.
What Satoru does next makes Suguru’s blood run frozen.
“Suguru.” Satoru sighs.
Suguru’s eyes pierce into Satoru’s face. His breath catches in his throat.
The way Satoru says his name makes his chest sting. It sounds so tender, reverent.
Satoru’s still asleep. Suguru doesn’t dare move.
Satoru’s arms twitch. His lips curl up into a small smile.
Again. “Suguru.” Between a sigh and a whimper.
Satoru takes his arms and wraps them around Suguru, pulling him close. He buries his head in the crook of Suguru’s shoulder.
Satoru makes a content little sound. “Mmmmm.”
Suguru clutches his arms around Satoru and breaks down.
Nothing short of an explosion of emotion, obliterating every wall he constructed around his fragile heart.
Suguru closes his eyes. He can feel the tears brim up, threatening to fall down his cheeks. He can feel Satoru’s warm, shallow breaths on his neck.
Suguru aches. His heart can’t take the devotion that courses through his veins. His body can’t take the molten affection burning him alive.
Suguru is so in love with Satoru.
He has always been in love with Satoru. He lets a tear run down his face in the sudden, blinding realization that the love he has for Satoru was immediate and all-consuming.
“I love you.” Suguru whispers the epiphany into Satoru’s ear.
Satoru’s breathing evens out with sleep.
Suguru is in love with Satoru the next morning.
They wake up together, a tangle of arms and legs, still holding each other chest to chest.
Suguru wakes up first. He can’t bring himself to untangle their limbs. He can feel the muscles behind his shirt. He can feel the light dusting of hair on his cheeks. It was overwhelming, but Suguru can’t bring himself to let go.
Satoru stirs, and slowly opens his eyes. They look up at Suguru with a quiet vulnerability that makes Suguru want to jump off a cliff.
“Good morning.” Satoru whispers, looking a little awestruck himself. He seems almost painfully shy. Satoru is ridiculously cute when he’s shy. It makes Suguru want to pinch his cheeks, which are a dusty pink.
“Good morning, Satoru.” Suguru returns back, refusing to let go of him, of the moment they created.
Satoru yawns. “I guess it’s time to make breakfast.”
“Correction. It’s time for me to drink coffee and make you breakfast.”
Satoru scrunches his nose and Suguru fights the urge to scream.
“Your coffee is terrible. It would benefit from some sugar.”
“Says the guy who drowns their pancakes in whipped cream and thinks hot chocolate is an appropriate substitute for coffee.”
Satoru snorts. “Sorry you don’t have impeccable taste.”
“I’m the one with impeccable taste. Come on, let’s go brush our teeth.”
Satoru dumps his head on Suguru’s chest. “I’m still tired. Carry me.”
Suguru’s brain short circuits before gathering the courage to say what’s next. “Bridal style?”
Suguru can feel the smile on his chest as Satoru replies, muffled. “Bridal style.”
Suguru untangles their limbs and Satoru almost looks pained. “Hold on.” He murmurs, as he stands up at the edge of the bed, rummaging for two toothbrushes, toothpaste and mouth wash. He pockets them.
Satoru lays there in bed, looking up at Suguru, making little grabby hands. Suguru is going to combust.
Suguru scoops up Satoru and carries him bridal style out the door and into the bathroom. He rejoices in the opportunity to carry his love, still unguarded from sleep. Satoru is leaner than Suguru, light enough, and seems to fit perfectly in his arms.
Suguru deposits Satoru on the bathroom counter where he sits, blinking away the tiredness from his eyes. Suguru pulls out the spare toothbrush, a blue one, and squeezes on some toothpaste, running it over water. He hands it over to Satoru, who starts to lazily brush his teeth while Suguru prepares his own toothbrush.
The whole thing is oddly domestic.
Suguru finishes before Satoru. Satoru leans his head over the sink and spits out his toothpaste. He takes his foot and guides Suguru between his legs.
Satoru looks into Suguru, who is now a pile of mush, grinning. “Mouthwash, please.”
Satoru just looks plain ethereal. Before Suguru could process the request, the words just tumble out of him.
“What were you dreaming about last night?”
Satoru leans in, bracketing his legs very slightly on Suguru’s own. His eyes sparkle.
God, there isn’t even a word to describe how beautiful his eyes are up close. If he looked close enough, he could probably catch a shooting star.
“I dunno, Suguru.” Satoru muses. “Probably you.”
The admission was too much, and Suguru’s heart soars.
The way Satoru’s blues glimmer with mischief. The way his feet are lightly touching his calves. The way his knuckles grip the counter. The way his cheeks are just a little rosy. The only way he would notice it now is because Suguru’s face is so close to Satoru’s own.
Too close.
Suguru pulls back, trying to figure out how to breathe.
His pulse jackhammers inside his chest. His hands feel wet. There’s nothing left in his body but the swelling, all encompassing, undulating love, sprinkled with a tiny bit of need.
He doesn’t know how to figure that part out. Instead, he wills himself to breathe, to center. He closes his eyes.
In through the nose, out through the mouth.
Satoru looks hurt from Suguru pulling away. He tenses up, knuckles white on the counter.
“What’s wrong? Did I say something weird in my sleep?”
Suguru opens his eyes, refusing to look into Satoru’s at first. He’s afraid he might drown.
“No. I was just curious, that’s all. Just trying to make conversation.” He doesn’t want Satoru to feel bad.
Satoru stills, trying to convince himself to be placated. It’s not for a lack of trying, but it’s hard to be Satoru and placated. His eyes have just a hint of worry lingering there. Suguru wants to kiss it better.
God, how much he wants to kiss Satoru.
He wants to be each other's first kiss and their only kiss. He can’t have Satoru kiss, or touch anyone else for the rest of his life. If, God forbid, they were no longer friends, he wants Satoru to love him so much that filling the void with someone else doesn’t even cross his mind. Because that’s how Suguru feels about Satoru. The only person Suguru will ever want is Satoru.
It might be selfish, but Suguru knows he is the most selfish person on the planet.
He wants Satoru to feel the love bleed through his fingertips. He wants to purge his love onto Satoru, quell it within his chest, like the only cure for this insane disease is to feel his lips on Satoru’s.
Instead, Suguru chooses to take a step back.
Satoru clamps his legs around Suguru, stopping the movement swiftly. His eyes look determined, boring into Suguru’s honey irises.
“Hey.” Satoru whines. “Don’t leave.”
Satoru’s legs move Suguru closer. Suguru, weak man that he is, allows it, taking a step forward.
Satoru promptly places his forehead on Suguru’s. His breath tickles.
Suguru swears under his breath.
Suguru automatically wraps his arms around Satoru. Mostly on instinct, partially to keep himself from fainting from the sudden proximity. He feels like throwing up. He grits his teeth together, trying not to let that happen.
Satoru feels sturdy. He smells like citrus and mint toothpaste. Suguru feels nauseous and intoxicated all at once.
Satoru closes his eyes. “Are you okay?” He whispers.
No. “Yes.”
“You need to promise to tell me when you’re not okay.” Satoru replies, small.
The problem is, Suguru is never okay. He hasn’t been okay since his cursed technique became apparent as a child. He decided at a young age that the curses he absorbs are revolting, unclean, depressing. Therefore he embodies that decay.
He doesn’t want the one person he loves to know this.
He can’t lose Satoru, he might die. Death always seemed like a beautiful concept, but in light of new events, an afterlife without Satoru is no afterlife worth living.
Suguru would live for Satoru. He would do whatever it takes to wake up next to bright blue eyes for as long Satoru will allow him. Even if it means he keeps some parts to himself. It’s the only way to protect the boy he loves.
“I promise.” Suguru lies.
Satoru’s eyes flutter open, a radiant grin spreading across his face. “Cool.”
Suguru breathes a laugh at the absurdity of it all. He stands back and ruffles Satoru’s white locks.
“Cool.”
“You forgot my mouthwash.” Satoru quips.
Suguru reaches into his pocket and brings it over the Satoru, still bracketed between his legs.
Satoru flicks off the cap and drinks it straight, no cup. He swishes and spits in the sink.
“Hurry, Suguru. I want to brush your hair.”
Suguru is in love with Satoru when they go to class together.
Satoru takes a seat next to Suguru, with Shoko on the other side of Suguru.
Satoru isn’t late today, a miracle, Suguru muses. He is busy scribbling drawings of stick figures instead of taking notes.
Yaga’s voice drones on about the intricacies of Domain Expansions and Suguru is having a hard time keeping his eyes open. He should be taking notes, but he keeps glancing over at Satoru, because Suguru now realizes how down bad he really is for this boy.
Even when he is slacking off, Satoru is beautiful. The way his plush lips purse in a line. Suguru wants to taste it.
His lips are always so shiny. Does Satoru wear lip gloss? Suguru wants to find out.
The way the stark white hair never follows the lines of a brush. Suguru wants to brush it.
The pale, soft expanse of his neck. Suguru wants to trail kisses on it. He wants to elicit noises from Satoru that make his skin crawl.
The long arms that his uniform clings on to. Suguru wants to take it off.
The nervous, excitable energy begging for release in the form of tapping feet. Suguru’s feet tap in response.
The concentrated precision as Satoru’s eyes burn into a new piece of paper and he starts writing.
Is Satoru actually taking notes?
Satoru crumples up the paper and throws it at Suguru’s head while smiling as Yaga’s back is turned.
Definitely not taking notes.
Suguru un-crumples the piece of paper to Satoru’s messy scrawl.
I want street food tonight. I’m feeling daifuku.
-Satoru <3
Suguru can barely contain the warmness in his chest as he circles the heart and writes three question marks next to it.
You need real food. We are getting ramen.
-Suguru
Suguru neatly folds the note and passes it along to Satoru.
Satoru opens the note, a grin plastered across his face as he writes his reply. In the same manner he crumples the note and flicks it on Suguru’s desk.
If you pay, I’ll consider getting ramen
-Satoru <3 <3 <3
Suguru scrunches his eyebrows, scribbling on the note. He pauses, before deciding, screw it, and finishes writing.
Fine. We’ll go at 7.
-Suguru <3
Suguru passes the note to Satoru who eagerly snatches it up. He is grinning from ear to ear as the pencil scratches on the ruined paper. He passes the note to Suguru, making direct, intense eye contact. Suguru stutters for a moment as their fingers brush.
Suguru opens the note.
Thanks babe. It’s a date <3 <3 <3
-Satoru <3
Suguru slams his head on the desk with a little too much force. Satoru cackles violently.
Yaga whips his head around. “What is so funny, Gojo?”
Satoru wipes his eyes. “Nothing. Suguru’s being funny.”
Yaga warily eyes Suguru, whose head is still on the desk. He can’t look up, because it would reveal how red his face actually is.
Yaga sighs. “Pay attention, both of you.”
Satoru raises his hand in a mock salute as Suguru covers his face with his arms.
Suguru is in love with Satoru when they spar together that night.
First, was their date. Date????
Suguru was stressing a little too much on deciding what to wear for whatever this was.
He finally settled on a black pullover and jeans. It’s something he usually wears, and it’s what makes him the most comfortable. He would have to be comfortable if he was going to catch a glimpse of Satoru’s eyes again. It was becoming unbearable.
Suguru opts to put on some cologne. He opts to keep his hair down, in long inky waves. He keeps a hair tie on his wrist just in case. He just knows that Satoru preferred his hair down for some reason. Satoru loved playing with it, and complimenting it when it was down.
Suguru eyes a black eyeliner pencil, long forgotten, only pulled out on special occasions.
Screw it, he feels like it’s a special occasion.
He takes the pencil and saunters over to the bathroom, staring at his reflection in the mirror. The face that looks back in his reflection is hauntingly nervous.
No need to be nervous, Suguru assures himself while applying the lines on his eyes with a shaky hand. No need, this is your best friend in the whole world.
Suguru pockets the eyeliner and makes a beeline to Satoru’s room.
Suguru doesn’t bother to knock, he never has knocked in the past and it wasn’t about to change now because he is going on a date that’s not a date.
Suguru pushes open the door and sees his angel laying in his bed, typing on his phone.
It looks like Suguru wasn’t the only one who fretted about looks when he was getting ready. Satoru cleans up well, a little too well.
Suguru could see the white button up plastered on his chest, hugging Satoru in all of the right places. It strained under Satoru’s muscles, accentuating them. Satoru was wearing skinny jeans, also hugging his legs and thighs exceedingly well. Suguru’s mouth goes dry as his mind wanders to forbidden places.
Suguru’s eyes rake up to Satoru’s face, who seems distracted by whatever is on his phone. His radiant eyes were squinting on the screen, white brows furrowed. His velvety lips were pursed, shiny, apparent that Satoru did in fact apply lip gloss. There is no way it was natural.
The feelings that Suguru felt that wasn’t the usual love- it was unbelievably new, something akin to hunger, and all he could do was stand in the doorway hopelessly gazing, hopelessly pining at the boy before him.
Satoru looks up and immediately shuts off his phone. His face lights up as he hops out of his bed. The shirt strains against his skin.
Satoru saunters over to Suguru’s frozen form, drinking in his eyes.
Satoru’s lips part a little bit. “Hi. You look good.”
Suguru gulps, succumbing to the brilliant blue before him. “Hi. So do you.”
Satoru beams. “I always do.”
Suguru plays with his hands. “Yeah, you always do.”
He hopes the compliment wasn’t too much.
It seemed to have some kind of effect on Satoru, whose eyes started to grow a little fond. The familiar blush that Suguru has been seeing lately makes an appearance.
“Come on, you sap. Daikafu awaits.”
Suguru shakes his head from a trance. “I know you mean ramen.”
“We’ll see.” Satoru giggles, warm and melodic. He reaches out for Suguru’s hand.
Their fingers interlock together, warm and inviting, like two perfect pieces of a puzzle slotting together.
The feelings hit Suguru like a truck. Him and Satoru are holding hands. Warm shots of electricity wrap around his entire body as Satoru squeezes tighter.
Satoru leads them out of his room into the cold night outside.
And Satoru is incredibly touchy the whole night.
Satoru remains holding Suguru’s hand all the way to the train, never bothering to let go for a second.
Satoru lays his head on Suguru’s lap on the train ride from Tokyo to Shinjuku, allowing Suguru to card his fingers tentatively through the soft white strands. Satoru hums in response and closes his eyes, facing up. It feels like heaven. Like nirvana.
Satoru holds Suguru’s hand as they wind their way through the food stands, finally settling on ramen after some brief bickering.
Satoru only lets go when they sit facing each other, eating from the steaming hot bowls with their chopsticks.
It wasn’t enough for Satoru. He wraps his feet around Suguru’s ankles, and Suguru’s stomach does a funny little swoop. He reciprocates the gesture.
Satoru automatically holds Suguru’s hand when they make their return trip to Tokyo. Suguru listens to Satoru babble about school, about his plans for the week, about anything and everything under the sun, and Suguru can never get enough, if he’s being honest with himself.
On the train, Satoru looks up at Suguru again. “I don’t want the night to end.”
Suguru stops petting Satoru’s hair and looks down at him, smiling. “So, what do you suggest?”
“Let’s spar.”
“Satoru, it’s almost nine o clock. It’s too late to spar.”
Satoru smiles sheepishly. “I’m in a really good mood. It’s never too late to spar.”
And because Suguru never can say no to Satoru, he agrees.
The boys change in their respective rooms, Suguru shivering with nervous energy. Suguru ties his hair up while Satoru barrels in Suguru’s room.
“Come on, come on!” Satoru squeals. “No one is outside! I think everyone’s asleep.”
The boys make their way outside, walking on the grounds, scanning the perimeter to make sure that everyone really is asleep. Coast is clear.
They make it to the sparring grounds. The moonlight shines down on them. Satoru practically glows in the light. It was dark enough that he didn’t need his sunglasses and stayed comfortable.
Satoru cracks his knuckles. “Okay, big boy. Give me your best shot.”
Suguru chuckles. “Let’s lay out some ground rules, first. No cursed techniques, no Infinity. Just plain fighting.”
Satoru grins. “I never use Infinity with you, Suguru. You know this.”
And because he can, Satoru quips. “That’s the only way you have a chance of winning, huh..”
Suguru immediately punches Satoru in the abdomen and lands the hit. It makes a satisfying noise.
Satoru chokes, and proceeds to try to land a blow on Suguru’s face. Suguru is quick and evades it.
Suguru moves around Satoru, and tries to land another punch but Satoru senses it before Suguru even registers what he is doing.
Switching strategies, Suguru sweeps his legs on Satoru’s calves while Satoru is still moving to dodge Suguru’s initial punch.
Satoru’s back slams into the dirt, and Suguru helps him up. “One.”
Satoru stands up and charges at Suguru, full speed.
Their bodies collide while Satoru lands blow after blow on Suguru’s midsection and Suguru tastes dirt.
Satoru leans down into Suguru’s ear. “Two.” He murmurs.
Satoru stands and helps Suguru up.
They dance around each other, stepping, dodging, and stepping.
Suguru lands a blow on Satoru’s shoulder and Satoru kicks Suguru in the leg. Suguru grabs onto Satoru’s shoulders while Satoru attacks Suguru’s chest and abdomen.
Suguru ignores the pain blooming in his body and pushes.
Satoru’s back hits the ground for a second time, with Suguru on top of Satoru.
“Three.” Suguru murmurs.
Satoru groans.
Suguru grins, triumphant from the victory.
Satoru is pinned beneath Suguru. Suguru wraps his hands around Satoru’s delicate wrists- hard.
Suguru shifts his weight so that his knees close in on Satoru’s sides, so that Satoru can’t wriggle free.
But Satoru isn’t trying to escape.
Satoru has turned soft, pliant under Suguru’s touch. He relaxes in Suguru’s hold, completely trusting. It makes Suguru’s heart skip.
Satoru looks up at Suguru. His breaths are labored. His face is smeared with dirt. The moonlight highlights his features, which are unbelievably soft. His skin glows milky under the smatters of soil.
Satoru’s eyes are an emotion of tenderness, turbulent waters swirling with desire. Suguru can almost taste it. He can feel the familiar floodgates open. The love, undying devotion taking precedence over all hesitancy, or worry.
Suguru needs Satoru.
He needs Satoru like a drink in a thousand year drought. He needs all of him. The bright eyes, the soft lips, the white hair, the pure unbridled innocence.
The happiness, the exuberance, the life that Satoru holds so close to his heart. The wicked intelligence and the closed lipped pouts and the all encompassing attitude.
He needs the incredible power, and the arrogance and care behind it. He needs the mochi that is always stuck to his teeth. He needs the arms that wrap around him in the quiet mornings and the hot chocolate in the evenings.
He needs the rantings about the higher ups and the teasing directed at him and Shoko and the quips when he gets a less than perfect score on his tests.
He needs the red lollipops and blue popsicles that paint the corners of his mouth and the pancakes in the afternoons because it was a perfectly acceptable lunch.
He needs the late movie nights and video games and the train rides where his head is perfectly nestled in his lap. He needs long fingers combing through his hair with a reverence that he has never felt before.
He needs the vulnerability that Satoru only seems to share with Suguru, between silent glances and the way his power is always suppressed when Suguru is around.
He needs the six freckles that grace his shoulders, the four freckles on his nose, and the bottom two teeth that are slightly crooked.
He needs the boy who never follows direction, but chooses to follow a path that Suguru seems to have the power of dictating. At least for now.
Satoru trusts Suguru with his life. It’s found in the smallest of actions. And Suguru needs him.
Suguru needs..
Suguru leans his face down, still gripping Satoru’s wrists even tighter, trying to find the courage to take what he needs.
Satoru’s eyelids flutter as Suguru’s nose traces the tops of Satoru’s dirtied cheeks, breathing him in.
Satoru moans quietly and the sound courses through Suguru’s body like a tsunami cresting towards utter destruction.
“Please.” Satoru whines. “Please..”
Suguru kisses Satoru and it feels like all the fireworks lit up at once at his favorite festival.
Suguru kisses Satoru and Satoru kisses Suguru back so fervently that Suguru almost thinks Satoru feels the same way.
Their lips slot together, and Satoru feels so yielding, so warm, so inviting.
Suguru’s body turns on like a live wire as he deepens the kiss, unlatching from a wrist to cradle Satoru’s head.
Satoru melts under the touch and whimpers into Suguru’s mouth and Suguru feels so overwhelmed in the best possible way.
When their teeth click, both boys giggle and adjust their heads.
Suguru leans in further, and darts his tongue out, licking Satoru’s lips. Satoru groans, and bucks his hips up, and it takes every ounce of self control for Suguru to not ravish Satoru in the middle of a sparring field.
The whines that come out of Satoru’s lips are delicious, heavenly. Suguru could die this very second and be content with how he lived his entire life.
As long as he’s kissing Satoru, there will never be anything to worry about. All doubts, all sadness, all self loathing dissipates in soft tendrils as Satoru expresses his own need into Suguru’s mouth.
They continue to kiss as Satoru takes his free hand and traces Suguru’s shoulders, his back, tentative. Suguru shudders.
Suguru detaches his mouth and Satoru hums disapprovingly before it is stopped completely as Suguru latches on to his pale, exposed neck.
Suguru needs to mark Satoru. He needs the whole world to know that Satoru, as beautiful and powerful as he is inside and out, belongs to him.
Suguru’s teeth graze the sensitive spot next to his carotid, pulls his lips down and sucks.. hard.
Satoru moans shamelessly, loud and with zero regard to anything around them. The noises run through Suguru with some insatiable freneticism he has never experienced before. The color dark purple blossoms beneath his mouth like delicate flowers that bloom.
Satoru takes his hand and pulls Suguru’s hair out of his bun, letting it fall. Satoru pushes his head now, no longer ashamed. Broken whines spill through his lips and he allows himself to be taken by Suguru.
Suguru detaches and briefly admires his handiwork before placing his lips back on Satoru’s.
He could kiss Satoru forever. He could hear Satoru’s needy little sounds reverberate throughout his hazy brain for the rest of his life. The thought of Satoru being his elicits a small moan from Suguru’s mouth.
Satoru is delighted and kisses with more intensity. Braver now, he unleashes his own tongue and it meets with Suguru’s. They twist around each other in something filthy, something intimate. Suguru tightens the grip in Satoru’s hair. Satoru groans straight into Suguru’s mouth. Suguru groans back.
Satoru bucks his hips up again and Suguru closes the gap, holding Satoru close. It never feels close enough. Suguru wants to live in Satoru’s skin.
It seems like Satoru wants the same thing, the way he kisses Suguru so passionately with so much desire.
After an eternity, Suguru lets go, gazing right into Satoru’s ocean irises.
Satoru speaks first and says the very thing that shatters Suguru to his very core.
“I love you, Suguru.” He whispers. “I love you so much.”
Suguru feels complete. Sure, he feels like he is floating among clouds with the admission, but something in his wretched heart finally clicks, like Satoru was the missing part of his life and Satoru is finally his.
Suguru strokes Satoru’s hair gently. “I love you too, ‘Toru.”
Satoru’s eyes glow in pure, unadulterated happiness, like Suguru was the missing piece all along, like Suguru wasn’t the only one that worshiped what they have together.
“Promise me you will never leave me.” Satoru breathes.
Suguru nuzzles his nose on Satoru, closes his eyes, and takes a deep inhale.
Satoru. All Suguru sees, all he feels, all he smells, all he hears, is Satoru.
“I promise.”