Kiss It Off Me - c*ntera - 呪術廻戦 (2024)

Chapter 1

Chapter Text

"You'll like him, Satoru, I promise."

"You said he's quiet, though," Satoru argues, hastily wiping the coffee table with a paper towel. Quite a bit of dust has accumulated since he last cleaned his apartment. Come to think of it, that may have been when he first moved in two years ago.

He wipes off the filmy layer of grime that amassed on his hands during his cleaning spree. The action leaves dusty streaks on his black jeans. Not his best idea. It takes another few minutes to wipe off his jeans too.

"Well- Sometimes. But that's good because you're quite loud sometimes, so it'll balance out."

"Hey," Satoru warns, irritated because he hates cleaning. There's still something warm in his voice, though, because as annoying as Shoko is, Satoru will always adore his best friend. The warning is meaningless, just there as a front.

Shoko rolls her eyes, scrolling through her phone as she lounges on the couch, socked feet propped up on the coffee table. Usually the roles are reversed, with Shoko doing all the work and Satoru not even pretending to help, but when Satoru realized he needed to scour the entire apartment in less than fifteen minutes, Shoko had only laughed and said; you're on your own.

"He's gonna hate me," Satoru grumbles as he organizes his messy stack of opened textbooks and journals full of notes in a neat pile against the wall. His gigantic, clumsy black dog of labradoodle breed named Clifford is just standing there watching Satoru, head tilted to the side, confused. Even he knows Satoru never cleans.

Shoko only grunts in response, and then perks up when something shows up on her phone. Satoru, nosey as he always is and having no boundaries between him and Shoko since they've been friends for three years now, peers over her shoulder and reads the text message.

Here

is all it reads, with an almost disturbing lack of emojis.

"How boring," Satoru scoffs, heading over to the door to press the button that allows his new roommate in the building.

"You're gonna love him," is Shoko’s only response, in a stupid singsong voice. She cheerfully hops off the couch and leaves the apartment to help carry his bags up the three flights of stairs.

The elevator has been broken for about three months now and no maintenance worker has ever tried to fix it. This just goes to show what kind of place Satoru lives in. The stairs are nothing to laugh at, either. They make Satoru embarrassingly out of breath on the regular. Thus he usually tries to avoid them, most of the time by not going out very often, and sometimes by making Shoko give him a piggyback ride.

Satoru has three extra minutes to tidy up the flat before the door is opening again. Two people step inside, their arms loaded with bags and a surprising amount of canvases. Shoko has told Satoru his new roommate is an art student, so the canvases make sense. It's still a bit surreal to see that most of his luggage isn't bags of clothing and other belongings, but various art supplies.

It takes two trips for Shoko and Satoru's new roommate to transport everything from his car, up the three flights of stairs, and down the long hallway to the flat. Satoru knows he should offer to help but he's too busy clearing his own miscellaneous belongings from around the house and depositing them in his bedroom. Hopefully his new roommate won't think he's a total slob.

Half of the couch is covered in all of Satoru’s laundry. He carries the heaps of clean clothes back to his room and dumps them on the floor to deal with them later. By then, the other two are finished unloading, and when Satoru heads back to the kitchen he's met face to face with his new roommate letting Clifford sniff his hand curiously. Clifford seems to approve because he lets the guy pet his head, and he keens under the newfound attention, panting excitedly.

"Satoru, this is Suguru. Suguru, this is Satoru," Shoko introduces, waving her hands between the two vaguely. She’s grinning like he knows something Satoru doesn't. It's unnerving.

Satoru stands back for a quick moment to eye the guy up, really observing him. The pictures of him on Instagram were good but they didn't do him justice.

He's taller than Shoko by a couple inches, yet his shoulders are hunched forward. They curve inward in a way that suggests he's a little uncomfortable with his own stature. His skin is snowy and pale, not abnormal for a winter in New York, and his fingers are curled around the strap of his bag so tightly his knuckles are white. The way he carries himself, a little awkwardly and a lot timidly, like he's afraid of calling attention to himself, is so vaguely familiar, it startles Satoru.

He isn't meeting Satoru'a eyes, but Satoru knows in an instant he has seen this Geto Suguru guy somewhere before.

Satoru sticks out his hand in casual greeting, and Suguru mumbles something like

nice to meet you, probably just to fill the lengthy silence.

"You look really familiar, have we had a class together or something?"

His eyebrows furrow like he's in deep concentration, possibly recollecting various seating charts and classes to try to remember if Satoru was in any of them. "Ummm-"

"Oh!" Satoru exclaims, almost as if a light bulb flashes over his head suddenly in recognition. "I do remember you, you're the one I saw walk into that pole the other day!"

"What?" Shoko asks, laughter bubbling out of her as she looks between Satoru, who is grinning in remembrance and welcome, and Suguru, who is blushing furiously.

"Ummm..."

"So it was you," Satoru surmises, unable to stop the twinge in his lips which quirks the corners up. He stifles a laugh at the memory, trying not to mortify his new roommate too much. Suguru is squeezing the strap of his bag very tightly with one hand as the other comes up to cover his face in embarrassment.

Satoru had been walking to class two days ago and just happened to witness the guy walking in front of him crash right into a streetlamp, hitting his face and everything. He had meant to check if the guy was okay but he was in a rush, and another girl already had her hand on his arm and was seemingly fixing the problem, so Satoru just kept walking. He only laughed a little when he thought of the gangly, awkward looking guy walking straight into a pole. He wasn't even doing anything, no phone or book in his hands, nothing to distract him. He just. Walked right into the streetlight like he didn't even see it there in the middle of his projected path.

"Well, is your head okay?" Satoru asks, reaching out to prod at the guy's skull as if he's checking for bumps. He doesn't think anything of his own actions until he notices how uncomfortable his new roommate looks with the touch.

Suguru pulls away carefully and nods, cheeks still aflame in rosy pink.

Shoko clasps her hands together, backing away towards the door. Satoru knows she’s going to meet Utahime for dinner tonight, Sunday night is their unofficial date night. Even though Shoko denies they're even dating, Satoru knows the truth and he won't ever let his best friend forget it. It's fun to tease Shoko about her secret girlfriend because Utahime is the only entity on the entire planet that truly turns Shoko soft, and Satoru finds enjoyment in flustering Shoko. "I guess I'll leave you guys to it, then."

"'Kay," Satoru chirps, not even looking when Shoko exits the apartment and closes the door behind her. His eyes are still on his new roommate, curious and inquiring. Suguru is still just standing there like he doesn't know what else to do, fingers curled around the strap of his duffel bag, the pink in his cheeks subtly paling back to the normal snowy color.

"Need any help unpacking?"

"I'm good, thank you," Suguru says quietly, snapping out of his daze and hesitantly stepping more inside the flat.

"Alright, well if you need any help just ask me. I have a bit of studying to do so I'll be in my room if you need me."

He gives his new roommate one last smile and then heads down the hall to his room, leaving the door open just in case Suguru needs something. Satoru hates studying in his room but he feels it's important to give Suguru the space he needs to move in, and from what Satoru can tell Suguru is quite shy so it's probably a good idea to let him be alone for a little while.

Satoru hates the idea of making him nervous and he wishes Suguru didn't look so uncomfortable. Rooming with Satoru isn't a bad or scary thing and he doesn't want people to treat it that way, so when Suguru barely says a word to him it kind of makes him sad.

Satoru hasn't roomed with anyone in more than four months and he doesn't really need to room with anyone anyways. He can pay the rent himself, so really he's doing this as a favor for Shoko. Since sophom*ore year, Satoru has consistently lived with a boyfriend, though not always the same one. In fact, he's gone through a new guy at least once every three months, and in the in-between time he doesn't exactly mind the week or two alone.

That's Satoru: always finding himself in fake-deep relationships that revolve around sex. The guy moves in after a month or so because things get serious quickly and besides, it's easier to f*ck around all the time if they live together. Despite the fact that he has a quick move-in rate, Satoru hates commitment and so do the guys he usually chooses to date. Thus, the relationships end quickly.

No matter; it's never been long since he's found a new guy, so it's never really been a problem and he's almost always consistently had a roommate. It may be considered moving way too quickly in a relationship for them to move in together almost immediately, but that's just the way it goes. His boyfriend always moves in to his place because it's one of the nicer places on campus, despite the fact that the elevator doesn't work. Plus his apartment is one of the only places that allows pets, and Satoru and Clifford are a package deal.

In fact, these past four months are the longest he's gone without a boyfriend and thus without a roommate. It has something to do with the fact that the last guy he dated was a total asshole and really perpetuated the Satoru-is-a-slu*t rumor.

It isn't true. That's what Satoru tells anyone who will listen, but as it turns out, not many people will listen. Only his friends Shoko and Nanami wanted to listen when he cleared up his name to them, explaining he didn't really sleep around as much as everyone said he did. Just a bad reputation, a tiny mistake that blew up in his face and labeled him as a slu*t for the rest of his years at Columbia.

Whatever. The point is that Satoru is doing Shoko a favor by offering up his apartment to a stranger.

He doesn't know much about Suguru, but he does know what Shoko has told him. Suguru is a junior, one year below Satoru, and he's an art major. He's quiet, shy, and pretty particular about things like organization and cleanliness, which may be a bit of a problem since he's rooming with Satoru now. He just went through a nasty breakup with his two-year boyfriend, and Shoko says he's quite shaken up about it so Satoru should be gentle if he ever decides to approach the topic.

Not that he wants to. Approach it, that is. Satoru knows how he is when his own breakups are scrutinized, so he plans on not being hypocritical and pestering Suguru for his story. If Suguru wants to give him the details, then fine, but Satoru can't really see that happening anytime soon. Especially since they've only said a few words to each other and Satoru said most of them, anyways.

Gathering all the motivation he can muster, Satoru cleans up his room before settling in bed to study. He has seven textbook chapters to read for a one-hundred level world history exam tomorrow, and the reading was assigned three weeks ago so clearly he's been procrastinating. Oh well. Cramming is his specialty, especially for classes he should've taken his freshman year.

At seven o'clock, he gets hungry enough to close his book and venture to the kitchen. On the way there, he passes the spare bedroom which is now Suguru’s, and catches a glimpse of his new roommate doing some very interesting decorating.

"What are you doing?" Satoru questions, very tactfully, as he steps into the bedroom and eyes Suguru warily. There's not much in the room, and Suguru is on the floor, smoothing the edges of a very large sheet. The sheet, and three others, span the surface area of the entire floor, covering the marred wood completely until it can't be seen at all. The frameless mattress sits on top of one of the sheets, pressed up against the wall, and that's the only furniture the room holds. It's kind of sad. Satoru thought he told Shoko to tell Suguru to bring his own furniture since the room was completely empty before he arrived.

Suguru startles at the sound of Satoru’s voice, flinching. He stands up and whirls around quickly like he thinks whoever the voice belongs to is going to hurt him or something.

"Sorry, sorry, I should've knocked," Satoru mutters, feeling bad for scaring the guy. He swallows thickly and repeats his original question, wondering if his entire relationship with this guy will just be filled with awkward, tentative moments like this. "What're the sheets for?"

"Oh, um, I'm covering the floor so I don't get paint on it."

"Oh. Don't you work in a classroom, though? Or like, a studio I guess."

"I do usually, but I work at night a lot so I paint in my room sometimes. It's just, um." He pauses, brushing his side bangs away from his face and tucking it behind his ear with shaking fingers. Satoru is impressed because this is the greatest amount of words he has used since he arrived. "It's easier to cover the floor so I don't have to clean up every time I spill or drop a brush or something. Sorry."

"Huh, okay. Well I was just gonna order pizza, want any?"

Suguru sits back down on his heels and runs his fingers over the paint-marred sheet, dragging his nails back and forth against the threads. "Ummm, sure."

"'Kay. What toppings? Sausage, pepperoni, ham?"

"I'm vegetarian," he says quietly. "Sorry."

"Oh, no reason to apologize," Satoru laughs a little, feeling uncomfortable, which is something he doesn't feel very often. "Then I guess, like, what vegetables do you want?" Satoru doesn't think he's ever eaten a slice of pizza with a vegetable on it. It doesn't seem like something he would enjoy. He leans against the door frame waiting for an answer.

"Umm, I usually get pineapple. Which is a fruit."

Satoru’s eyes widen slightly in disbelief. Never has he eaten a single vegetable on pizza and never has he ever met anyone who actually likes pineapple on pizza. If Suguru had been anyone else in the entire world, Satoru would rib him for it, tease him relentlessly and never let him live it down. But when he thinks of the way Suguru flinched when he entered the room, he decides he should probably be a bit gentler and maybe forget the raillery altogether, at least until they know each other a little more.

"Uh, okay. Well in my opinion that's gross, but you do you. Maybe we can get half pineapple and half real toppings. Do you want anything else on your side?" Not as gentle as he anticipated but it's better than what it could've been.

Suguru grimaces a little but doesn't banter like Satoru expects him too. He just takes the insult, accepts it like it's true. That makes Satoru even more uncomfortable, because Suguru is basically letting Satoru push him around and that's not a good thing. He needs to stand up for himself.

"Just pineapple is fine, thank you."

"Okay, I'll order a large so we can have leftovers. Do you want anything else?"

"No thank you." Suguru’s voice is small and it leaves a bad feeling in Satoru’s stomach. He doesn't know who this Suguru kid is but he's getting kind of worried. He's never met someone so tentative before, someone so afraid of their own skin. Like he wants to step out of it or something.

"Uhhh, alright." He pulls himself from the door frame and makes his way back to his room, opting to order on his laptop instead of calling on the phone. He may be a people person but it's just so much easier to do it online.

While he's waiting for the delivery person to arrive, he continues studying, but doesn't get much done because he's distracted by his hunger, not to mention his strange new roommate in the bedroom beside his own. So he gives up and scrolls through Twitter for a while until he hears the buzzer.

By the time Satoru finishes paying for the pizza and tipped the delivery girl, and Clifford has finished barking excitedly at the intrusion, Suguru has left his bedroom and joined him in the entryway. Satoru closes the door and ushers Suguru into the kitchen where the tiny dining table is. The thing is, Satoru may be a bit of a disorganized mess, but he isn't gross with food. He always cleans his dishes and never leaves food around the house. He always eats in the kitchen.

Suguru doesn't complain. In fact, he doesn't say anything at all. Satoru accepts his task of getting a conversation out of him.

"So you're friends with Shoko?" Satoru asks, figuring it's safe territory to start with something they have in common. He wants to ask about his major because that's a typical first conversation between college students, but he doesn't know much about art and fears it'll lead to a dead end.

"I am," Suguru says, not adding anything else. He's either socially inept or he doesn't want to talk to Satoru. Maybe a mix of both.

"How do you know her? When did you meet?"

Suguru puts a single piece of pineapple pizza on his plate but doesn't bite into it. Meanwhile Satoru is stuffing his mouth with double pepperoni.

"We met through a mutual friend, Utahime Iori?" Suguru says, asking to see if Satoru knows who he is. Satoru nods. Utahime is Shoko’s sort-of girlfriend. A fourth year art major with a bit of a superiority complex, which isn't particularly unfounded. "Um, my freshman year."

"Oh, cool." There isn't much information there so Satoru decides to change topics, going to his plan B. "So you're an art major then?"

"Mhm."

"Well I'm in chem engineering, so not too much in common there though. But it's nice to have a roommate with different interests, sometimes. Broadening your horizons and all that. Do you have any projects you can show me?"

"Uhhh..."

"You don't have to. Sorry," He backtracks very quickly, voice gentle like he's talking to one of his frightened younger siblings, "I didn't mean to like, be pushy. I know art can be personal a lot of times."

"Thanks," Suguru says quietly, picking at the corner of his pineapple pizza.

It's silent from then on out. Satoru feels too award to continue the conversation after he wrongly asked to see some of Suguru’s art, and Suguru clearly isn't very keen on talking either. Satoru busies himself with his phone and eats quickly, retreating back to his bedroom as soon as he finishes, telling Suguru he has to study.

He ends up sleeping instead, with Clifford curled up by his side like always. But before he's completely knocked out he thinks about Suguru and how shy he is. He wonders if he'll ever be able to get close enough to him to have a normal conversation with him, or if they'll always be in this awkward limbo of almost-acquaintanceship.

The next morning his alarm goes off too early, and he gets out of bed too early, and everything sucks. It's seven fifty when he walks down the hall and sees Suguru’s room is closed. He doesn't know if that means Suguru is still asleep, awake but in his room, or not in the apartment all together, but it's strangely silent and that's that. They never compared schedules anyways so he has no idea where Suguru is.

No matter. Satoru doesn't have time for breakfast. If he wants to make his eight o'clock class, all he has time for is his shoes. He stumbles out the door, sleepy despite his ten hours of sleep, and somehow makes it to his class only two minutes late. Of course it's a freshman level class so everyone is already there with their pens and journals ready for class. When he looks up he sees the professor glaring at him. Satoru takes his usual seat in the back and finally remembers he has an exam today.

The day goes like normal and Satoru pretty much forgets he has a new roommate back at home. So it's a bit scary when he opens the door and sees a practical stranger in the living room.

It's less scary, however, when his eyes land on the 'intruder' and he sees Suguru there, on the couch, curled up and taking a nap. Clifford is curled up half on Suguru’s lap, sleeping soundly, face content. The TV is on to a station Satoru doesn't recognize, so he uses the remote to check the guide and sees the show is called Planet Earth. In hindsight he supposes he shouldn't be surprised. Of course his new strange roommate likes to watch weird nature shows.

Somehow, though, Satoru gets drawn into the episode. This one is about deserts and he finds himself sitting on the small couch beside Suguru’s sleeping figure, watching beetles crawl over the sand. It's more interesting than it should be.

It isn't until the commercials come on, louder than the actual episode, that Suguru wakes up. He rubs his eyes sleepily and yawns a while before noticing Satoru beside him.

"Oh, hi."

His voice is tentative and shy, and for some reason it makes Satoru sad. No one is this timid just naturally; he's certain Suguru’s demeanor must be a result of something. So what happened to Suguru to make him so afraid to just be?

"Hey sugaru," Satoru greets, joking but apparently not enough to make Suguru laugh. There's a very long, awkward silence before Satoru decides to fill it. "So you're an art major, you're friends with Utahime, and you watch weird animal shows in your free time. Is there anything else I should know about you?"

Suguru blushes. Like actually honest to god blushes. Satoru is pretty sure he hasn't seen anyone blush since high school. He doesn't know what to do with this information.

"It's not weird," Suguru defends quietly, much to Satoru’s surprise. He's sort of sticking up for himself but he doesn't sound like it. "It's Planet Earth. Which is, like, a common show. And it inspires me. Like, my art, I mean."

"Really? It does?" Satoru looks back to the show, confused, and sees the stunning landscape of the Sahara Desert reflected back at him. It's beautiful, Satoru sees, so maybe that's why. He doesn't exactly understand but he's trying. It should scare him that he isn't making a joke, but he also thinks Suguru might crack into pieces if Satoru teases him even gently.

"Yeah," Suguru responds, looking embarrassed, cheeks still tinted pink. "It's beautiful. And calming."

"Okay, I'll give you that. I mean, do what you gotta do to create, I guess."

"Right." Suguru reaches for the remote and flicks the TV off. The episode wasn't over yet. He stands up from the couch and heads back towards the hallway without another word, leaving Satoru just sitting there wondering if he had upset Suguru. He doesn't seem like the type to leave a show halfway through. And Clifford is distraught now from being displaced, confused and disappointed by Suguru’s sudden absence, so he shifts over until his long body is completely covering Satoru’s lap.

Satoru leans back into the couch and turns the TV back on, curious about this Planet Earth. He ends up watching the next two episodes too, even though he has a sh*tload of lab calculations to do for tomorrow. He'll have to do them later. Oh well, that's what coffee is for.

Chapter 2

Chapter Text

The rest of the week is much of the same, just like that first day of Satoru and Suguru rooming together. Suguru is nowhere to be found all day until Satoru gets home from his last class and finds him curled up on the couch, sleeping soundly with Clifford sleeping on top of him.

Planet Earth isn't always on, though Satoru watches when it is—when it isn't, the TV is off, and Satoru just passes by to go to his room or to the kitchen, out of breath from the three flights of stairs.

Does Suguru even go to class? Satoru really doesn't know. He never sees him leaving, but unless he's on the couch napping, Suguru is nowhere to be seen.

It's not much of a change from the past four months Satoru’s spent alone. Yet, somehow now, with a roommate, he feels even lonelier. It has something to do with the fact that Suguru is so detached, Satoru feels as though he's living with a ghost.

The other problem is that this is the first time Satoru since freshman year that Satoru is living with someone who isn't his boyfriend. It feels strange to have someone else in the apartment that he isn't allowed to cuddle up to whenever he wants. Not that his old boyfriends ever wanted much more than sex, and rarely prioritized non-sexual physical touch, but the point still stands.

So yeah, Satoru is a little concerned. Suguru doesn't talk much, he's always locked up in his room, and he never has anyone over. Satoru wonders what he does all day, if he goes to his classes or if he just stays locked up working on his art in his room. Sitting on the canvas-covered floor doing god knows what.

The week is full of strange mediocrity and it isn't until Friday night that something bad happens.

It's nine o'clock in the evening and Satoru is holed up in the living room, wearing his pajamas. He's flipping through the TV stations, when he sees Planet Earth again. Surprised that Suguru isn't curled up on the couch either watching the episode or napping, he makes the split-second decision to head down the hall towards Suguru’s room.

When he gets there, he doesn't hesitate before knocking on the door. Vaguely he considers the fact that Suguru might be asleep, but it's so early in the night that Satoru doesn't worry. He knocks loud enough to hear but doesn't get a response. So, taking a deep breath, he twists the door open.

The room is empty of Suguru. All of his art is covered too, by thin sheets. Satoru is glad. He had forgotten he might've seen something Suguru hadn't felt comfortable sharing. His eyes land on the empty bed with a pile of messy blankets and quilts. He closes the door quietly and wonders where the hell Suguru is.

Not that it's any of his business, of course, but sometimes he'd like a bit of a heads up just to know where Suguru was going. That's typical roommate behavior, right? Satoru is pretty sure it isn't too much to ask.

Whatever. For a second he considers going out to a bar to pick someone up and maybe go home with him. With his reputation that isn't so out of the question. But he quickly dismisses the idea, because the thought of squeezing into skinny jeans is so ludicrous. Instead he curls up on the couch in his now typical spot beside Suguru’s typical spot, and falls asleep watching wolves chase rabbits and deer on TV.

A few months ago, during the time in between relationships, he would be out right now f*cking around, flirting with boys and acting as the slu*t everyone always accused him of being. It's funny, when he thinks about it now, how easily he fell into the role when he finally accepted it as his own. Call someone something enough, and they'll start to really act like it. Call someone something enough and they'll begin to believe it.

It's four AM when he's jolted awake by unfamiliar noises, like waking up from a garbled dream and facing the disorientation head on. Like opening your eyes and not knowing what's up and what's down, not knowing where you are at all. There's the door, opening, then closing. Feet against the wood floor. Shuffling. And above it all, the distinct sound of someone crying.

It's not necessarily a familiar sound, but it's one he can place with chilling ease because it's so distinctive. Soft, gasping breaths on the verge of hysteria but somehow holding back from falling off the ledge. Ugly sniffles and labored breathing and the imagined sound of tears leaking down rosy, frightened cheeks. Streaking skin with glistening warnings. A physical indicator of sorrow. Tangible misery.

Satoru sits up, rubbing his eyes sleepily, and flicks the light on. There's this revolting feeling of worry rising to the surface and it begins to make him feel sick, his stomach swirling hideously. His missing roommate is halfway to the hallway when Satoru's eyes land on him.

"Suguru?" Satoru asks, though he knows it's him. Just, anything to get him to stop running away.

Suguru stops but doesn't turn around. His figure is shadowy and hunched over like he always stands. Like he's afraid of taking up space; like he's afraid of being himself.

They still have yet to have a proper conversation, one with questions and answers and lots of words. The small talk has failed, this far. There are only so many times they can discuss the weather before the topic turns so incredibly banal, they find themselves turning in circles and even walking backwards. This is why Satoru doesn't really expect much when he asks, "Suguru is everything okay?"

He doesn't turn around. Instead he looks like he's going to bolt down the hall towards his room, lock himself inside, and never come out. Satoru can't have that happen. He can't have that happen because it's only been a few days but he is already so sick of watching Suguru evade, watching him hide, watching him crumble into himself like a sinkhole in the earth. He can't have that happen because Suguru can't continue wasting his entire life running away from everything all at once.

"Suguru?" He tries again, standing up and crossing the living room to reach him. He still has his back to him and Satoru doesn't want to push it. But he has this sinking feeling in his stomach that something is terribly wrong. Why else would he be crying?

He's still crying, of course. Quiet, broken sobs. But for some dumb reason he says, "I'm fine," like he thinks that'll make Satoru leave him alone. Like he has said that before and whoever was listening to him actually believed him, or pretended to believe him. Like no one ever cared enough to actually push him until he split open and told the truth.

"You're not," Satoru tells him, thinking that if he presses a little harder Suguru will fall compliant and just communicate for once. He wants to reach out and comfort him with physical touch. But he's afraid it'll startle Suguru, just like the first day when he entered his room and Suguru flinched at the sound of his voice. So he holds his arms tight at his sides and ignores the tingling in his fingers which is telling him to reach out and touch. "Tell me what's wrong, Suguru," He breathes, voice gentle, quiet, and as un-threatening as he can make it.

Suguru doesn't say anything. Doesn't move, even. Just stands there all still and shadowy so Satoru can't see his face. And there's this darkness radiating off of him, this heaviness. Brokenness, more than barely there, that beckons feelings of grief and misery. Years of mistreatment, buried beneath a shy demeanor and dull brown eyes which stare resolutely out at nothing. That's what it feels like.

"Suguru. Let's just- Let's go sit on the couch... I recorded your show. We can watch it together, yeah?" He says this all slowly, articulating each word, feeling a certain type of nervousness deep in the pit of his stomach. Satoru is a little hysteric and barely concealing it, but he has to do something. He has to. He isn't going to let this near stranger just lock himself in a room when he's clearly upset. When there's clearly something wrong.

Suguru covers his face with his hands, maybe to hide the tears, but finally turns around. He doesn't say anything but follows Satoru back to the couch and sits down next to him, tentatively with his face still covered like he's afraid to be seen.

Satoru doesn't press him on it. He selects one of the episodes he recorded and pushes play, but keeps the volume down low so they can talk, if he can somehow get a conversation out of Suguru.

"Hey roomie," Satoru says softly, poking Suguru in the knee. He flinches, and Satoru backtracks. "Wanna tell me what's up?"

Suguru’s face is still in his hands as he leans forward and rests his elbows on his thighs. He doesn't say a word, but very slowly he removes his hands from his face.

Satoru isn't expecting to see anything except for Suguru’s beautiful face streaked with splotchy tears. So when his hands finally fall away, and Satoru really sees him, he's shocked.

He's shocked, not because Suguru is crying, but because of something else, something wicked and unnerving.

Because of the bruises.

"sh*t, what happened to you?"

Suguru’s sobs ring clear above the sound of nothing else except for the heating kicking on which sets the tone with a constant hum like a strange background current. Satoru listens to Suguru’s gasping, desperate breaths for a while just thinking about the world and how it could be so cruel. He feels helpless to do anything, and Suguru is curling in on himself by the minute.

The thing is, Suguru’s face looks beaten up and completely bruised. His lip is split and leaking crimson blood, his jaw and cheeks blossomed with gruesome violet and indigo. It looks very painful, and a million terrifying thoughts are running through his mind right now. He's thinking,

Suguru is hurt. Suguru got jumped on the street. He got into a bar fight. He ran into another pole.

With nothing left to do, Satoru reaches out to very carefully wrap his arm around his shoulder, hoping Suguru will find some sort of benign comfort in the touch. Suguru doesn't pull away like Satoru expects him to. Instead, he sinks into the grasp, helplessly defeated, and lets Satoru hold him.

No words are exchanged. Suguru just cries and cries and cries, just like that, with Satoru’s arm wrapped around his shoulders. He sobs quietly like he's afraid to call attention to himself even though Satoru already has his sole attention focused on him, like a nervous doctor eager to tend to a patient's brutal wounds.

Suguru’s body is normally tall and lanky but not like this, not when he's curling up infinitesimally and folded his arms over his stomach like he's trying to hold the pieces together. Like if he lets go, he'll shatter.

So Satoru pulls Suguru into his chest and strokes his back and lets him cry and cry and cry, wetting Satoru soft t-shirt with his dripping tears. It's not the most comfortable position, nor the most comfortable situation, but Satoru doesn't complain. He would be a selfish fool if he complained. For a solid week he has gotten no emotion but shyness and vague embarrassment from Suguru. The sadness and hysterics are not be desirable, but they're a change towards the more emotional side of the spectrum, as opposed to the closed-off and cold side.

Suguru doesn't stop crying until an hour later, and Satoru is about to say something to him until he realizes Suguru is asleep. His cheeks are streaked with salty contrails, his eyes red and puffy and the rest of his skin pale and modeled. Due to his stuffy nose, his lips are parted slightly and he breathes through his mouth in little quiet breaths that Satoru can only hear because they're right beside his ear. It's sad, maybe even on the verge of pathetic, but so unbelievably endearing.

Satoru doesn't know what to do, doesn't know what the hell actually happened, but he does know that he's exhausted. Using his free arm, he turns the TV off, and then decides to flick off the light too. It doesn't seem like a good idea to move Suguru, in case he might wake up, so Satoru gets as comfortable as he can, curling up on the couch and hugging the near stranger in his arms. He's afraid of what's wrong and he doesn't know how to fix it. So he cuddles Suguru close, getting comfortable and resting his head on top of Suguru’s messy hair.

This is the most he's done to help a friend in a while, and Suguru can hardly be called a friend. It's a bit surprising—he isn't used to staying up late to comfort people. But he feels honored that Suguru has allowed him to do this, to see him in such a vulnerable state, even without explaining what exactly happened, since they barely know each other.

Four months ago Satoru went through a very bad breakup and things haven't been the same since. The thing is, the relationship ending very terribly, with his ex-boyfriend doing something despicable in order to get revenge.

He had saved some of Satoru’s more provocative selfies on his phone from when they were still dating, because sexting was a big part of their relationship. Satoru isn't reserved by any means, and he isn't ashamed of his body either, so he had no qualms about sending nudes. Until his ex-boyfriend emailed them to every single one of Satoru’s employers, past and present, and posted them all over Facebook and Instagram too.

It had been a very bad day, when he did that. One minute Satoru’s life was normal and the next everyone was looking at him funny on the streets. Even his own friends started pulling away, believing Satoru was a slu*t and a whor* and someone not to hang around, for fear that their reputation would be tarnished just by association. The worst was when Satoru lost his job, though. That was what really sucked. He could deal with the awkwardness of half the university seeing pictures of him wearing lingerie and f*cking himself with a dild*. He could handle most of his friends becoming distant because they thought what everyone said about Satoru was true. But losing the best job he had ever had, playing guitar and singing during the evenings at his favorite bar only a block away from his apartment? Yeah, that really sucked.

Satoru had gone to the police, trying to file a report for sexual harassment and defamation of character. The officer had nodded along, very unimpressed, and didn't even bat a lash when Satoru shoved his phone in his face, showing him all the places his ex-boyfriend posted Satoru’s private pictures. By the time Satoru left the police department, the officer hadn't even written a single word down in his journal even though he promised to investigate. Though it was frustrating, Satoru knew it was a lost cause. What were they supposed to do, anyway? Give his ex a verbal reprimanding? As if. The damage had been done.

So Satoru lied low for a while. There wasn't much to do. The only two people who stuck around were his friends Shoko and Nanami, and other than that he was alone. He tried to start dating again, but of course his reputation preceded him, so the boys he approached either ran away screaming, or expected Satoru to put out right then and there. There was no in between—they were either horrified at Satoru's supposed slu*ttiness, or turned on by it, enough to the point that they completely objectified him.

So Satoru gave up, and that's where he is now. Doing a favor for Shoko, maybe only because Satoru can't get another boyfriend and he really misses having a roommate.

That's where he is now, with a very strange and shy but somehow beautiful person, curled up in his lap, exhausted from crying. With bright purple and blue bruises blossoming across his cheeks and his jaw. His lip is split and oozing blood. Satoru wants to wipe it off with the pad of his thumb, but again he's afraid it will wake Suguru and he'll start crying again. So Satoru just holds him a little closer and promises to get an answer out of his roommate in the morning.

With the surplus of unanswered questions clouding his mind, it's a long while before he falls asleep.

Chapter 3

Chapter Text

Suguru wakes up first. He starts shuffling and then Satoru is up too, sleepy and disoriented, back aching from the strange position. Clifford is lying on top of them, snoring loudly, and rendering them both immobile.

There's a lengthy moment of languid confusion where they're wrapped up in each other and it feels disturbingly right, like this was meant to happen. In this moment, Satoru doesn't question it at all, and that scares him.

There's something peaceful about it. About waking up to find himself curled around Suguru. Suguru who is sleepily pawing at his eye with one hand, the other still wrapped around Satoru’s shoulder and grasping the back of his shirt, fingers clutching the material both loosely and adamantly all at once. Almost as if he's afraid to hold on too tightly, but afraid to let go at the same time. Tentative but wanting, needing.

When Satoru opens his eyes to the bright morning sunlight streaming in through the windows, his gaze lands on Suguru’s battered face, expression now wild and scared. He looks like he wants to escape but doesn't know how. His hand is still clutching Satoru's shirt right below his neck, fingers twisted into the fabric desperately. The blood leaking from his split lip has dried and turned an ugly shade of rusty brown. But the dried blood is the least of his worries, considering how distraught Suguru’s expression is.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Satoru soothes, shifting Clifford off of them so Suguru doesn't feel trapped. He doesn't know what compels him to say it, maybe the fact that Suguru might've gotten jumped last night and that's why he's frightened, but he says, "You're safe here."

The words fall heavy in the air, ugly and out of place. Like laughter at a funeral. Suguru whimpers quietly. Like, actually whimpers. The pathetic sound makes something small quiver in Satoru's chest. Suguru drops his hand from where he had previously been holding onto the back of Satoru's shirt, and uses it to cover his face and groan quietly in his palms.

"Suguru?" Satoru asks quietly, going for soft and tentative. He doesn't want to startle him. The situation is fragile. He needs Suguru to be as comfortable as possible if he really wants to get to the bottom of this, if he really wants to find out what's wrong. There's a large possibility of Suguru retreating within himself like before and Satoru can't have that. He can't.

Suguru doesn't respond. He doesn't cry, either, which might be good or it might not. He just holds his face in his hands, puffing out quiet breaths into the otherwise still and silent air. Some of the bruises are visible, peeking out from behind Suguru’s long, thin fingers. Gruesome and ugly blemishes tarnishing his ashen skin.

"Suguru, please tell me what's going on... Please tell me what happened to you," Satoru begs, feeling helpless. He doesn't know much about Suguru, but he knows now that he wants to make sure he's safe. It isn't a question of why he should care; it's a question of why he shouldn't.

Suguru doesn't respond. Instead he stands up abruptly and disappears down the hall to his room. Satoru remains on the couch wondering if he should follow. He doesn't.

Ten minutes later Suguru emerges, fully dressed in black leggings and a white t-shirt under a very strange jean jacket covered in patches with song lyrics and pins in the shape of rainbows. The laces of his worn-out pink high-top converse are tied loosely. There's an expensive-looking camera hanging on a strap around his neck, and he has a pair of glasses pushing his hair back. Satoru hadn't known Suguru wore glasses. Looking a million times more pulled together than he looked ten minutes ago, he's heading for the door.

"Where are you going?" Satoru asks, suddenly much more awake. He had expected they would talk about the reason Suguru stumbled into the apartment last night, sobbing and obviously beaten up, but now Satoru sees how wrong he was to even imagine that. Of course Suguru isn't going to talk to him. Why would he?

"To the studio," he responds decidedly, not looking back at Satoru and not giving him a chance to argue. He steps outside and closes the door shut behind him, disappearing in a flash of bruises marking his skin and colorful pins decorating his jacket. The apartment is once again dissolved into disappointing, lonely quiet.

Satoru considers going after him. He really does. But then he thinks it might be better just to let Suguru have some space. Art is clearly an outlet for him, so it's probably a good thing he's going to the studio. Even if it makes Satoru worried that he'll be out and about, just like he was last night, and he might get hurt again.

There's nothing he can do about it, so Satoru gives up for the time being at least. He has a ton of sh*t to do today so he heads to the library to work on his thesis. As a senior he has the privilege of claiming a study room of his own for the entire semester, which is a really nice benefit. Even if it means he's staying holed up in a room all day on a Saturday. The good thing is one of the walls is entirely comprised of windows, so he has a nice view of the city as he does research.

He grabs a late lunch from the library café, exhausted from a day of work. When he walks through the main part of the library he notices a lot of eyes on him, but he ignores them as always. A group of underclassmen sitting in the lounge area whisper back and forth, very obviously about Satoru if the way their eyes flicker to him is anything to go by. They snicker when he passes and he has half a mind to ignore them even though he desperately wants to flip them off at the very least.

Good god, it's like high school all over again.

It's a relief to be back in his apartment later, even though he just had to walk up three flights of stairs to get there.

Suguru is there when he gets Satoru. Satoru greets him and Suguru returns the greeting but doesn't meet his eyes. His injuries are bright and intense, begging to be called attention to. But neither one of them says a single word about what happened last night. Satoru desperately wants to ask again, but his questioning was so futile this morning he decides to just f*ck it and go to his room.

Of course he knows he shouldn't be angry at Suguru . He isn't angry, really, just frustrated. Obviously something is wrong and Satoru wants to help in any way he can. But Suguru isn't letting him.

He ends up in bed with his laptop propped up on his lap playing Disney movies from his childhood.

The Lion King, for example. He should be studying or doing something more productive but he really, really needs a break. And besides, it's Saturday. He can afford a few hours wasted.

After the second movie he gets hungry, and that's what motivates him to leave the warm confines of his duvet, heading out towards the kitchen. On the way there he passes Suguru nestled into the couch, lying on his side with his knees pulled to his chest, face smashed into the cushion. There's a half-full mug of tea on the coffee table, probably cold now, with a tattered leather journal beside it. Satoru has seen Suguru writing in it, so he knows it's different from the sketchbook he carries around all the time but never opens in front of Satoru.

Satoru sighs, quieting his steps as he makes his way to the kitchen in search of food. He ends up with leftover pasta heating up in the microwave. He means to stop it before the time reaches zero, but he doesn't make it there in time, and the shrill beep rings through the otherwise silent apartment. Of course, it wakes Suguru.

"Sorry," Satoru mutters, looking back to see Suguru sitting up and rubbing his eyes sleepily. He feels like an asshole for waking him, especially when it's obvious he could use the sleep.

"'S alright."

"You like taking naps, yeah?" It's not the best conversation starter but Satoru has been wondering why Suguru is always asleep at the strangest times, always on the couch and never in his bedroom. Satoru isn't complaining about getting to see Suguru cuddled up with Clifford on the couch, but it's kind of worrisome considering how often it happens.

"Yeah, I don't sleep much at night."

"Oh. That sucks. Why not?"

Suguru sits up straighter but looks down at his lap, very carefully avoiding Satoru’s gaze. His shoulders are hunched forward and his arms are folded over his chest like he's trying to keep warm. "Dunno. It's a lot of things I guess."

"Bed not comfy enough?"

He makes a weak, noncommittal sound in response. "Just easier for me to fall asleep during the day, I guess."

That doesn't make much sense at all but Satoru isn't one to judge so he sets his plate down on the kitchen table and sits on the chair.

He has to ask. Even if it's out of place and rude and insensitive, he has to ask. "Why won't you tell me what happened?"

He wants to add I'm worried about you, but it isn't his place. They barely know each other. They're just roommates, not even friends. Just two people thrust together for the sake of financials, because a shared apartment is obviously cheaper than only one person paying for it. Because Suguru’s boyfriend left him and now he needs a new place to stay.

Suguru just shakes his head, still staring at his hands which are now twisted nervously in his lap, fiddling with the edge of his jumper.

"Does anyone know what happened? Does Shoko know?"

"No. No one knows."

Satoru wants to scream. He can't justify why he feels so strongly about someone he barely even knows, except for the fact that it's probably just human decency to inquire about a person's mysterious bruises. "Suguru, please tell me, I'm worried. Is everything okay?"

"Everything is fine."

"Where did you go last night?"

Suguru’s voice is defensive when he says, "I went out. Which is normal. Something everyone does."

"Yeah, but you didn't go to a bar or anything, did you." Satoru doesn't know why he's being so pushy but he can't help it, he needs to know what happened. There's this protectiveness thrumming in his veins and he just can't quell the urge to press and press and press until Suguru breaks. "So where did you go?"

Suguru’s jaw clenches. "I was visiting my boyfriend. Not that it's any of your business."

"You don't have a boyfriend, though." Blunt and harsh and not the best thing to say. Satoru should learn to keep his mouth shut every once in a while.

Suguru rolls his eyes, standing up from the couch and picking up his mug. "That's what Shoko told you, then?"

Satoru stares at him, pasta long forgotten. He's so confused and decides to wait for Suguru to fill him in. He doesn't even know where to begin, or which line of questioning to start with. It's all too intrusive and insulting. So he remains quiet.

"Everyone thinks they know me, but they don't know sh*t. So f*ck off."

Then he disappears down the hallway and doesn't quite slam the door to his bedroom, but closes it so forcefully the sound resonates through the otherwise quiet air.

"f*ck," Satoru says to himself, so quietly only he can hear.

Chapter 4

Chapter Text

"Shoko, you need to tell me what happened."

"It's not mine to tell, Gojo, I said that already. Besides, I don't know the whole story."

"But he won't tell me," Satoru whines, somewhat childishly as he grabs Shoko’s hands across the table. They're having breakfast at a coffee shop to catch up, since they haven't seen each other in a week. As soon as Shoko asked about Suguru, Satoru's mood fell through the floor. "I'm so worried. Something is wrong."

"Have you tried asking him?"

"Of course I have, idiot. He gets defensive and cold and refuses to tell me."

"So what happened then? Why are you so worried?"

Satoru looks around, paranoid someone will overhear. He's always like this now, worried he'll ruin someone else's reputation the way he ruined his own. "You won't tell anyone, will you?"

Shoko looks offended Satoru would even suggest that. "Of course not."

"You have to promise."

"I do, I promise I won't tell," Shoko agrees, linking her pinkie with Satoru's and giving him a squeeze.

"Okay, well..." Satoru decides to just go for it and get it all out at once. "On Friday night I was exhausted so I fall asleep on the couch, yeah? And then I wake up at four-f*cking-AM because someone is crying. And I see Suguru halfway to his room so I ask him if he's okay but he doesn't say anything. And f*ck... Shoko, there were bruises all over his face. Like he got in a fight and lost or something. So then I'm holding him on the couch as he sobs into my shoulder until he falls asleep. Then the next day he doesn't say sh*t about it and when I ask him he gets pissed."

Shoko looks concerned, but collected as she always is. Shoko’s calmness soothes the anxiety thrumming in Satoru’s veins, allowing his heart to calm down a little. It isn't enough. He jitters in his seat, unable to sit still, knee bouncing up and down incessantly, fingers tapping a quiet beat on the table top.

"Did he tell you anything?"

"Yesterday after he got really pissed at me he said he was visiting his boyfriend."

"f*ck. You mean his ex?"

"No, he said his boyfriend. Not his ex. So not only am I worried about him but I'm also so f*cking confused."

Shoko fiddles with his napkin, tearing off small pieces from the corner and folding them into tiny squares. "I don't know much about his ex because he never told me a thing, really. Especially after they broke up. But if they're back together... God, I don't know. They were so bad together, Satoru. The guy was a total jackass. So controlling and just, like, mean to Suguru. Super pissy and possessive."

"What do you mean?"

Shoko sighs. "Like, he never wanted Suguru to be anywhere when it wasn't with him, but I always thought Suguru kind of liked that sort of attention. Like, to be needed by someone. He didn't mind that he could only go out if the bastard went with him. I dunno. The entire situation was f*cked up."

Shoko doesn't swear often; it's bad for her image as the calm, collected, reasonable person she is. The uncommon vocabulary makes Satoru swallow hard, nervous, fingers trembling against his cup of tea. "But they broke up?"

"Yeah, about a month ago. Suguru calls me crying saying he doesn't have a place to stay and he doesn't know where to go, so I tell him he can stay with me until he finds somewhere else. You know how busy I am with school, though; I didn't have time to babysit him. The past month we haven't seen each other much, but I'm one of his closest friends I guess. He doesn't tell me sh*t though. I just know he like, gets these nightmares?"

Satoru’s fingers stop tapping on the table. "Nightmares?"

"I'd hear him moaning and crying and I'd go in to shake him out of it. He always told me it was fine but I knew something wasn't right. I mean, it's obviously not normal. But he's had a lot of ...hurt in his lifetime, I guess. Lots of sh*t he doesn't deserve."

"What? What do you mean?"

"I always hear sh*t about his parents. He was adopted, you know? sh*t like that always happens. I'm not sure if there was any physical abuse, but they definitely didn't love him as much as they should've. I don't think he's in contact with them anymore, which I guess is a good thing."

"Physical abuse," Satoru echoes, staring dazedly at the table and thinking of the injuries defacing Suguru’s skin. "What the f*ck am I supposed to do?"

"Be there for him, I guess. Try to talk to him. Maybe not about this, but about other things. God knows he needs more friends."

"f*ck. I'm so worried."

"I know. He doesn't deserve this sh*t."

"I should go. I'm gonna... I don't know. I'm gonna try to talk to him again."

Shoko smiles reassuringly, gathering up her things as well. "Good luck."

Chapter 5

Chapter Text

Suguru is in his room when Satoru gets back home.

Satoru knows this because for once he can hear him, instead of the typical vacant silence aside from the hum of the refrigerator. He enters the apartment and is surprised to be greeted by the sound of a deep, lovely voice singing. Satoru doesn't recognize the song.

In a split second decision he decides not to bother Suguru for the fear that he might stop singing. Instead he makes himself a cup of tea and pretends he isn't listening in. Clearly Suguru hasn't heard the door open, or otherwise he would've stopped by now. That makes it feel like Satoru is eavesdropping on something he shouldn't, but the guilt of it all is offset by the fact that Suguru has a really lovely voice and Satoru wants to listen to it for a while longer.

So he sits at the kitchen table with his cup of tea and tries to get busy reading the next chapter for his class tomorrow morning, but he ends up staring out the window and letting the sound of Suguru’s voice soothe him into a deep pensiveness. For someone who rarely speaks, he has a lovely singing voice, and Satoru feels remorseful knowing he's missed out on it for so long now.

"My love took me down to the river to silence me, and when he left I could not speak..."

The lyrics are macabre. It ignites some part of him, somewhere in the deep dark marrow of his bones. Satoru shivers involuntarily, goosebumps rising on his skin.

"I lay on the ground, I tried to scream," Suguru sighs, his voice flowing through the air like water from a stream. Smooth, chilly, and deep "But no sound did come out. I could only bleed blue..."

Satoru is so lost in thought, he doesn't notice when Suguru stops singing. Nor does he notice when the door to his bedroom opens. Nor does he notice the sound of bare feet padding against the wood floor to the kitchen.

There's a small gasp and Satoru turns around to see Suguru standing in the entryway of the kitchen, eyes wide in surprise. His hands are by his sides, trembling as always, and his eyes are pale and shiny, glistening with tears. His skin is a colorful palette that would be beautiful if it hadn't any meaning; violet and indigo for the bruises, rosy red splotches on his cheeks from crying, the rest of his skin snowy pale and translucent. So he was crying as he was singing, then.

"How long have you been here?" Suguru asks, voice weak but accusing. He looks frightened, embarrassed, and all-around distraught. He's barefoot but wearing bubblegum-pink pajama shorts with the strings tied in a loopy bow, and a Rolling Stones shirt which looks like it's about ready to fall to a pile of thread it's been worn so many times. It's a bit of a juxtaposition, but isn't that just Suguru? There are splotches of forest green paint marring his hands and a particularly bright shade of deep red in a streak down his thigh.

"Not long," Satoru rushes to assure, standing up so abruptly he knocks his knee on the table, causing a bit of tea to slosh out of the mug. Hastily, he wipes it up with a napkin before it can stain the table. He can pretend to not have heard anything, but then he'll have a guilty conscience and he really doesn't feel like lying to Suguru, even though he looks so worried. "Just- I heard the last bit of your song. You have a lovely voice."

Suguru squeezes his eyes shut tight, wincing like he's feeling physical pain at Satoru’s admission. In a moment he whips around quickly, facing away from Satoru, and covers his face in his hands. He sniffles, reaching towards the fridge and opening it wide. The glow of the fluorescent lights illuminates him in silhouette and Satoru watches nervously as he pulls out a bottle of cherry wine.

"Suguru..." Satoru whispers, voice gentle. He watches, concerned, as his roommate grasps the bottle tight around its neck and retreats back to his room. The sound of the door shutting softly resonates through the otherwise silent flat.

So he's going to lock himself away in his room again, to paint and cry and get drunk on cherry wine? Instead of facing his problems or at least telling his roommate what the f*ck is going on? Fine, whatever. Satoru will just use the newfound quiet as an opportunity to get his work done.

All the while he can't stop thinking of Suguru’s voice, deep and lovely. Singing, this love's killing me but I want it to.

He can't shake that worried feeling from the pit of his gut either, even hours later, when Suguru finally emerges from his room again.

Luckily he no longer looks like he has been crying, but his eyes are now glassy in a new way. As Suguru stumbles towards the recycling bin and nearly misses tossing the empty bottle of wine inside, Satoru realizes he's drunk. Or tipsy, at the very least.

He grabs a water bottle from the fridge before disappearing back down the hall, bumping clumsily against the table on the way there.

Satoru glares after him but doesn't say a word about it.

So much for getting him to open up.

Chapter 6

Chapter Text

By the time Satoru is up the next morning, gathering his notes and textbooks into a bag, jamming them in, Suguru is nowhere to be found.

After the first week of living together, Satoru has learned that this is normal. He doesn't worry; he knows when he returns to the apartment later, he'll find Suguru curled up and napping on the couch.

So he goes to his stupid freshman-level class full of underclassmen who care way too much. Even though he gets there five minutes early, he's the last to arrive. Rolling his eyes like the jaded senior he is, Satoru takes his usual seat in the very last row and doesn't attempt to make conversation with anyone.

Class goes slowly and Satoru doodles in his journal just to stay awake. Usually he enjoys his classes but this one is truly the exception, and it's so early on a Monday morning for any good to come of it. Not that he stayed up late last night partying or anything, in fact, he went to bed at ten o'clock, which may be a new record of sorts.

The past few months, Satoru hasn't felt like doing much of anything. More often than not, now, he just wants to curl up underneath a mound of blankets and never move again. It's probably depression or something. Really, he wouldn't be surprised if he were clinically depressed. It's bad, but he can't bring himself to care.

Dating was fun until it nearly ruined his life, and stopped him from being hired by an employer ever again. When your psychotic ex sends your nudes to your manager, and your manager's manager, and your manager's manager's manager, and even to the f*cking CEO of the entire establishment, well. Word gets around.

Word also gets around when your psychotic ex posts said nudes all over social media for the entire student body of the university you attend to see you with a sparkly blue dild* halfway up your ass.

Satoru sighs, annoyed, just now realizing the professor dismissed the class five minutes early and students are filing out of the rows of the lecture hall now, most of them already gone. He gathers his things with shaky hands, lost in his own mind. He isn't ashamed of taking provocative pictures of himself. In fact, he isn't ashamed of his sexuality at all. But sometimes it's hard to not be embarrassed when strangers on campus look at him with those judging eyes and he just knows they saw this intimate part of himself that he never gave them permission to see in the first place.

I didn't ask for this, he wants to argue when he goes to parties and men try to grope his ass or slip a hand down the front of his pants.

I didn't ask for this, he wants to bite when he goes on a date and everything is lovely until he find himself with an unwanted tongue jammed down his throat and a guy whining about how Satoru won't put out like his reputation says he will.

I didn't ask for this, he wants to scream when strangers turn their noses up at him like he somehow deserves to be alienated because some jackass decided it would be good payback to post compromising pictures of him all over the Internet.

There's something dehumanizing about having all of this shared about him without his consent. Sometimes he has to shut his eyes tight and shove all the ugly thoughts away, because they start nagging at him and telling him awful things. Like how the entire situation is his fault and he never should've sent the pictures in the first place. There's nothing to do about it now but he can't help but regret it.

There's no doubt those pictures changed his life for the worse. He lost his job and the chance of finding work again in the distant future. He lost nearly all of his friends when he needed them most. And worst of all, he lost that part of himself that he wanted to keep private and sacred.

They always says "your body is a temple," but they don't really mean it, do they? If his body was a temple it would be meant for public viewing and worship. If his body was a temple no one would glare at him before they even knew him, because apparently he did something so despicable he resultantly isn't worthy of common kindness. Meanwhile his ex gets off free, with not a single person eyeing him strangely. Occasionally he evens gets a clap on the back or a congratulatory head nod that means congrats on bagging the slu*t, bro.

The day is long, full of classes and studying and group projects. By the time he returns home, it's six thirty in the evening, and he's about ready to jump off a cliff with how annoyed and exhausted he is.

Yet the irritation mostly melts away when he unlocks the door to the apartment, still out of breath from the three flights of stairs, and comes face to face with his roommate lying on his back on the living room floor, a big black labradoodle standing completely on top of him and smothering him in kisses.

"So I see you two are getting cozy," Satoru muses in the place of a greeting as he kicks off his shoes and drops his bag by the door.

Suguru is giggling and actively trying to shove Clifford off of him. Satoru watches him struggle for a moment more before finally having pity and pulling Clifford away. It's strange to see his roommate so cheerful.

"I fell asleep," Suguru explains, wiping dog slobber off his face, when Satoru raises his eyebrows in question. "And he attacked me."

This is the most expressive Satoru has seen Suguru this far. It makes something flutter in his chest that he can't quite place, but it causes him to think that he must really be starved of companionship if the simple sight of his dog mauling his cute roommate is enough to make his heart tremble. It's the first time Suguru is actually smiling and laughing in his presence. Satoru decides to cherish the memory, doing his best to remember it.

"Why were you on the floor?"

Suguru shrugs, standing up clumsily and fixing his shirt from where it had ridden up his tummy. Satoru is watching him so closely he notices the hint of a rosy blush on his cheeks, and the way his eyes flit to his bare feet like he's embarrassed. "It's comfortable."

Satoru dramatically eyes the wood floor, his expression conveying joking skepticism. "I'll have to take your word for it then."

There isn't anything else left to say so he heads to the bathroom for a shower. Figuring the warm water will do wonders for his tense muscles, he locks the door behind him — something he has never had to do before, since usually he would shower with his boyfriend, before everything went to hell— and strips out of his clothes. One of the cons to the apartment is that the water takes a long time to heat up, so he has no choice but to stare at his naked reflection in the mirror as the glass slowly becomes foggier and foggier.

His self-image is so f*cked up, he truly has no idea who he is nowadays. He barely even recognizes his reflection. It's all due to the dissonance between how Satoru perceives himself and how others perceive him. And then there's who he actually is, which is so elusive he fears he'll never fully grasp the concept of his true self.

With an audible sigh he steps into the shower and closes the glass door behind himself. The warm water falling against his back immediately relaxes him, soothing his muscles until the tenseness in his shoulders dissipates and he closes his eyes, mind slowing down and turning blissfully empty. For now, he can ignore all the doubt and dissonance.

The lengthy shower isn't the best for the water bill, but it does wonders for his peace of mind, so it might be almost worth it. By the time Satoru emerges from the bathroom, wrapped up in a fluffy white towel gown, with steam billowing into the hallway from the open entryway, he feels unbelievably relaxed. He's been so tense all day, and all week, even. It feels heavenly to finally unwind.

Eventually the cold air of the rest of the flat catches up to him and he starts shivering, the warm afterglow from the shower diminishing. Quickly he dresses in pajama pants and his softest hoodie, no socks, before heading to the kitchen for a cup of tea. The last time he went to the store, he bought a package of decaffeinated raspberry pomegranate tea and he's been dying to try it.

"Tea?" Satoru asks when he passes by Suguru, who is again curled up on the couch like he typically is. Mostly he asks to be polite, and because this is what roommates should do for each other—make each other cups of tea even when the distance between them is slightly tense with a million unspoken words and scenarios. Satoru has no idea what the f*ck is going on with Suguru but as his roommate he feels slightly entitled to at least know where Suguru f*cks off to in the middle of the night, and why he came back crying with bruises all over his face this past weekend.

"Huh?" Suguru asks, head jerking towards the sound of Satoru’s voice. Clearly caught off-guard because this isn't a normal occurrence for them.

"I'm making tea. Would you like some? It's raspberry pomegranate."

"Oh. Yes, please."

When Satoru returns to the couch with two mugs of tea in his hands he sits down right next to Suguru even though there's space to sit elsewhere so their thighs wouldn't be touching. But Satoru is still feeling lax from his shower so he doesn't really over-think it.

"How was your day?" he asks, eyes flicking to the sketchbook in Suguru’s hands.

Suguru swallows, fiddling with the handle of his mug. God, the way his big hands engulf the cup... Satoru blames the heat of his shower for liberating his mind enough to allow himself to travel down that specific thought trail, dangerous as is it, especially in such close proximity to Suguru.

"Good."

Satoru sighs, giving up and resting his head on Suguru’s shoulder. He stills beneath Satoru’s obviously unexpected touch. It's a sharp contrast to the way Satoru has lived for years, always with a boyfriend who was never shocked at physical contact. But now he has Suguru as a roommate. Suguru who is so shy and reserved, he barely even carries a conversation. If Satoru were more awake and less relaxed right now, he might consider the fact that maybe Suguru just doesn't like him and that's why he's so unresponsive.

However, at the moment Satoru doesn't really give a f*ck. He had a long day and now all he wants to do is drink his raspberry pomegranate tea, cuddle up with a cute boy—Suguru being the obvious choice—and maybe even watch some pretty nature shows on TV.

Who the f*ck have I turned into?

Satoru asks himself, mind whirling. Suguru smells good, like laundry detergent and expensive cologne. It's distracting.

"Tell me what you did, then. I wanna hear about your day," Satoru tells him, sinking further into his side. He thinks Suguru could use some physical contact as much as Satoru can right now. There's something so soothing about the feeling of a warm body against his own, like the constant and steady reminder that he isn't alone even though he feels it so.

"Um, okay..."

Suguru is sitting so rigid Satoru wonders if he's going to stand up and bolt, anything to get away from Satoru and conversation and human contact in general. His fingers are fidgeting against the lip of his mug and Satoru thinks that maybe they're shaking a little bit too. Beautiful Suguru and his long, thin fingers always trembling. What happened to him to make him so afraid?

Satoru must not have enough faith in him because Suguru doesn't run away and he doesn't pull back, either. He's still and rigid as ever, but he doesn't flee. He allows Satoru to sink into his side, sharing body heat, and says, voice tentative and nervous, like it's a question, "I had class today?"

Satoru can work with this. "What class was it?"

"Portraits."

"Oh, nice. What did you do today? Draw anything cool?"

"We had a model come in. She was really pretty."

"Oh? Is it someone I know?"

"I don't know. I can't remember her name."

"What did she look like?"

"Straight black hair to her shoulders and maybe like, brown eyes. She was short and her hands were really dainty. She had nice hips."

Those seem like strange observations but Satoru doesn't question him. It's probably an art thing. Who knows how Suguru’s mind works? Satoru hums in acknowledgment, closing his eyes. Suguru is so warm, like a human furnace and not in a humid, clammy way. He's warm in a comfortable way, a comforting way. Satoru can't get enough of it.

"She fell asleep on the stool," Suguru muses, playing with the string of the tea bag in his mug. The raspberry pomegranate has turned the steaming water a pretty mauve color.

"Oh really?" Satoru laughs, voice definitely way too quiet. They're both nearly whispering but it feels right, like their voices are meant to be this hushed.

"Yeah, and of course she fell to the ground because there's no back to the stool so there was nothing to catch her. And then she woke up with about ten people surrounding her, and everyone was about to help her up before they realized they probably shouldn't touch a naked girl lying on the floor."

Satoru laughs a little, feeling like he's moments away from falling asleep. Suguru is just so warm and comfortable to be all snuggled up against. He would be perfect for cuddling if only he wasn't so rigid. Satoru can work on that. "Wait, she was naked?"

"Mhm."

"Can I see your sketches?"

"Why, because she's naked?"

"No, you oaf, I'm not a pervert. I meant I want to see your sketches because I haven't seen any of your art yet and it sounds really cool."

"I don't know-"

"Show me yours and I'll show you mine?" Satoru jokes, feeling loopy on sleep as he snuggles further into his shoulder. Does this count as bonding time? Is this making Suguru feel more comfortable with their budding friendship? Will he eventually open up to Satoru and tell him what happened? "Show me your sketches and I'll show you my O-chem research."

Suguru doesn't respond verbally but Satoru feels him shuffling around for a moment before pulling out his sketchbook, the one he always carries around. He opens it to a very specific page and then shyly hands it to Satoru like he's afraid Satoru is going to take one look before chucking it across the room in insult.

Satoru grasps the soft binding of the worn sketchbook with careful, gentle hands as he observes the sketches on the page Suguru is showing him. He sees the dark smudges and lines of charcoal, converging together to create three separate drawings. It's nothing elaborate, but Satoru finds himself so enamored by the simple sketches. Maybe he's being dramatic, but there's something really special about the way Suguru has put charcoal to paper, creating three distinct images of the female form.

"These are really beautiful, Suguru. I love the way you've drawn her ribcage," Satoru comments honestly, never thinking those words would ever come out of his mouth. Well, here he is, complimenting his shy roommate on the way he draws naked women's rib cages, the bones peeking from beneath the skin in an unconventional pattern.

Suguru coughs uncomfortably, mumbling a weak, "Thanks."

"I'd love to see more of your art sometime. It doesn't have to be now obviously, but if you ever feel like sharing I'm always willing to be your audience."

"Thanks. Can I see your organic chemistry stuff now?"

"I was joking," Satoru replies, even as he's standing up and crossing the room to reach his bag, pulling out his journal full of notes. He sits back down next to Suguru, even closer this time, and hands him the journal, sneakily resting his head on Suguru’s shoulder when Suguru is distracted by the journal.

Suguru flips through the pages curiously, running his fingers over the messy diagrams and occasionally reading some of the words or equations aloud. He doesn't get bored as easily as Satoru would expect anyone to, inspecting Satoru’s notes with earnest attention. It's so endearing Satoru feels like he might melt into a puddle of goo. Suguru is just too much. Too genuine.

"We never talk much," Satoru muses quietly, eyes closed, as Suguru traces his fingers over a benzene ring. Suguru doesn't say anything, so Satoru keeps going. "I mean, I know we don't really know each other, and we became roommates in an unconventional way, but. You can talk to me, you know? We can be friends."

"What does that even entail?" Suguru asks, voice far away. He sounds jaded and detached. Drifting.

"I don't know. I just feel like you don't like me." f*ck. Why is he saying this out loud? He hasn't even been drinking. It's a deep-set insecurity, one he can't shake. The fear that people don't like him. He definitely doesn't need to be manipulating Suguru into talking to him. But Satoru is being honest; he wants them to be friends.

"I do like you," Suguru whispers, sounding affronted. "Why do you think I don't like you?"

"You avoid me. You won't tell me anything."

Suguru remains silent. When Satoru looks up at him he sees his eyes are closed.

"You won't talk to me." Satoru wonders how far he can push him.

"What are we doing right now? I do talk to you." Suguru still hasn't opened his eyes. It's like if he opens them he'll remember the situation and lose all the confidence he needs in order to be able to speak to Satoru.

"You don't trust me," Satoru accuses, snuggling closer to Suguru’s arm and enjoying the warmth radiating off of him.

My sun, he thinks absentmindedly.

"I'm intimidated by you." By the way Suguru stills rigidly after the words are out, he didn't mean to say this. Satoru understands very well that sometimes the words you didn't mean to say slip out without thought or consent.

But Satoru isn't just going to let this conversation thread fall ignored or forgotten, like everything else they've ever talked about has. Like the night Satoru held a crying Suguru in his arms and whispered to him that everything would be okay. "You are? Why?"

"I don't know. You're... you."

Satoru tries his hardest not to be offended. He stares at the TV and the pretty nature scenery in a faltering attempt to calm down and stop the maelstrom of self-loathing from overtaking his mind. "What about me specifically?"

"I don't- I don't know." It sounds a lot like he does know, but he just doesn't want to say it out loud.

There's another moment of fluttering silence before it hits Satoru. f*ck, why didn't he think of this before? Why didn't he ever consider the fact that maybe Suguru has heard more about Satoru than Satoru has heard about Suguru?

"Is this about... Is this about the pictures?" Satoru asks wearily. For a long, silent moment it feels as if the carpet has been swept right out from under Satoru's feet. Like everything is different than he originally perceived it to be. Now that it's out in the open he has to know the answer to the silent question: are you on my side or his?

Satoru shudders, fingers clenching before he releases them. He stretches his hands out to relieve the tension in his body. It doesn't work.

"What pictures?"

Satoru feels dizzy, everything spinning. This has happened a million times over; nowadays whenever he meets someone new it seems they already know him.

His reputation precedes him, they say. All of those people who have seen those god-awful pictures...

It's so disorienting, when people know something so intimate about him before they even meet him. A lot of times people tell Satoru he's overreacting, "it's no big deal," "they're just pictures." But they have no idea what it's like, to have something so personal, so private, strewn about for anyone to stumble upon. All of it against his will.

"You know what I'm talking about. You've seen them. Everyone has." The way the words come out is so nonchalant, like he doesn't even care. But on the inside he's burning with hatred, not just hatred for his monster of an ex-boyfriend, but hatred for himself too. This deep, ugly loathing that curls at his gut, making him nauseous.

Stupid stupid stupid. He wants to sink into the floor, or maybe jump out the window and crash to the cement three stories below.

Satoru may be panicking. Or at least, he may look very pale and worried. That must be the case, because in an instant he feels thin fingers wrapping around his wrist, holding him there. He meets Suguru’s eyes and sees them staring back at him, dark and intense. Hazel, but darker in the dim evening light.

"I've heard about it," Suguru admits, not relenting. Satoru has never seen him so serious before. So open. Suguru seems like one of those people who is so quiet about everything until his morality is questioned, and then he becomes overcome with conviction. Satoru thinks he sees some of this in Suguru now. "I've heard about it but I never looked. I never saw them."

Satoru's breath catches in his throat. He doesn't know why he's acting this way now and why he's been acting this way all night. He blames it on the steaming hot shower which relaxed him enough to spill his secrets, or at least be a bit pushier with Suguru than usual. He's been cuddling up to him all night even though they barely know each other. And now they're having a discussion about intimate pictures of Satoru which the entire university has seen. But not Suguru. Or so he says.

The thing about Satoru is that he's never timid or apologetic. Except for now. His voice sounds smaller than usual. Quiet. "You haven't? Even when people sent them to you?"

"Even when people sent them to me," Suguru confirms. He squeezes Satoru's wrist a little tighter and then releases the pressure but still keeps holding him.

Satoru's head is spinning. He can't decipher if Suguru is telling him the truth or just bullsh*tting him as a form of placation. Obviously his trust has been shattered enough, and now he's always suspicious. But rightly so. It's a defense mechanism.

"Why didn't you look?"

"Because it's f*cked up," Suguru says, his voice steely and on the edge of harsh. "It isn't right."

"But I was the one who sent the pictures to him in the first place. It was my fault."

"You sent them to one person who you trusted not to share them with anyone else. What happened is definitely not your fault. Nobody deserves that sh*t." The way Suguru says it like he's so certain about everything makes Satoru ache. How can he be sure Satoru wasn't asking for it?

"But there's always a risk," Satoru argues, for the sake of being contrary. He can't believe they're having this conversation and he can't believe his strange, shy roommate is comforting him over something that happened months ago. "There's always a risk that they're going to send them to every f*cking person they know, and I took that risk. So it is my fault."

"Satoru. It wasn't your fault." The way he says his name makes Satoru's heart thud a little faster in his chest. So determined and resolute. "That shouldn't have happened to you and it shouldn't happen to anyone, no matter the circ*mstance. He had no right to share them, especially as revenge. So no, I didn't look at the pictures everyone was sharing of you for months on end, because it's an invasion of privacy and it isn't right."

It's the longest amount of time Suguru has spoken in Satoru's presence. Satoru's mind is spinning with it.

He's still insecure. "So you don't think I'm horrible or disgusting? You don't think I'm a slu*t?"

Suguru stares at him for a long while, observing him and thinking. Part of Satoru wants to know what's going on in his mind but the rest of him is afraid to even ask. After a long while, Suguru says very decisively but very quietly, "No, I don't. And I'm sorry that anyone has ever called you any of those things before."

In this exact moment, Satoru feels the distinct urge to cry. To weep, actually. Sob all over the f*cking place, fill the apartment with an ocean of tears. It's melodramatic but he has never had anyone say anything like that to him before. No one has ever given him such a subtle reassurance and actually meant it.

He sits up straight, determined not to cry, and observes the man sitting beside him on the couch.

Suguru is tall, gangly, and pigeon-toed. His hair is unruly at best, a stray curl always falling in his face, tickling his eyelashes. His nose is abnormally large and pointy and so are his hands. Most days he has charcoal smudged on his face and paint marring his clothes, his appearance always rumpled in some way, but somehow he pulls it off. He does. There's this distinct look to him that makes him seem so genuine. It may be his quietness. His shyness.

So here is Suguru, assuring Satoru he never looked at his nudes. Never looked at the pictures of Satoru with a sparkly dild* halfway up his ass, one hand wrapped around his co*ck and teasing the tip. The pictures of Satoru wearing baby blue lace panties, with his lips parted open in an immortalized moan. So incredibly embarrassing, he burns with the shame of it all. The intimate pictures that Satoru sent to his boyfriend in confidence, and everything was fine until they broke up. That was when all hell broke loose and his life transformed from average to sh*tty in less than an hour.

No one has looked at Satoru the same since, but here is his strange roommate sitting close to him on the couch and telling him it isn't his fault that any of these bad things happened. It isn't his fault, Suguru seems so adamant to declare.

It wasn't your fault, Satoru. Not your fault.

I never looked.

Why?

It isn't right.

"God, Suguru," Satoru sighs. He feels sick and heavy but he's not messed up enough to overlook the distinct sight of an angel sitting on his living room couch.

"God, Suguru," Satoru repeats, slumping forward into his arms and letting Suguru hug him tight.

It should be awkward but it isn't. They've been roommates for barely more than a week and they never even talk to each other. But a few nights ago Suguru came back to the apartment crying and Satoru held him close on the couch until he fell asleep. They know nothing about each other but they've shared that intimate moment, and they're sharing this one now.

Satoru doesn't mean to cry but he ends up doing it anyways. He hasn't cried in months but he cries now, all over the front of Suguru’s soft t-shirt. Suguru wraps his arms around him tighter and rubs up and down his back in a way that feels distinctly reassuring, this presence of another human being beside him, just holding him. Just being there.

Tonight is so weird but Satoru thinks it's okay, and Suguru is telling him the same.

It's okay, he whispers, over and over again, into the still air as Satoru cries. It's okay.

It's okay to be vulnerable, is what he means.

Somehow he falls asleep like this, halfway on Suguru’s lap, a hand pressing hard against his thigh and the other tangled in Suguru’s shirt. Sobbing into the warm skin of his neck, breathing in the scent of floral laundry detergent mixed with strawberry body wash and raspberry pomegranate tea.

When they wake up the next morning, entangled on the couch, backs aching from the strange sleeping position, they awkwardly and decidedly don't talk about it. Apparently not talking about it is becoming a thing between them.

Chapter 7

Chapter Text

The week flies by quickly. Not much changes, other than the fact that they fall asleep on the couch together more often.

Rather than waking up early in the morning, cramped together on the couch, Suguru and Satoru make a habit of catching themselves before falling deeply into slumber, and stumble to their respective bedrooms at one or two in the morning. They don't talk much, and they never see each other during the day, but at night they always sit close together on the couch until they both fall asleep. It isn't intentional. At first, at least.

Satoru has never done anything like this before. In fact, he's never been so subdued. But it seems that rooming with Suguru has turned him into someone who never goes out anymore and always falls asleep on the couch as early as nine o'clock. He doesn't mind it though. The dark purple circles beneath his eyes have been lightening up back to his normal skin tone and he looks a lot less tired now, after just a week of consistent sleep.

They don't talk about their new sleeping habits either, just like they don't talk about Suguru's bruises or Satoru's reputation. When Satoru wakes up, Suguru is already gone and they don't see each other again until dinner or later. Suguru is still exceedingly shy and reserved but Satoru doesn't try to push him out of his shell. He enjoys their evening routine too much to try to upset it. For once the world is in balance and he's frightened of anything that might send it spinning off kilter.

There is only one more incident that leaves a bad feeling in his gut. It occurs on Thursday night, three days after Satoru cried into Suguru's jumper about the entire population upper Manhattan thinking Satoru is a slu*t who will do anything. Satoru is already asleep and in his own bed, curled up around his spare pillow in place of a human body he has become so accustomed to sleeping next to over the years of constantly having a boyfriend, when it happens.

He's jostled awake by a strange sound he can't quite place. At first he thinks it was the heat coming in through the air vents or maybe even a neighbor causing a ruckus. But then he hears it again, a strange sound that vaguely represents a scream. It's enough to make goosebumps rise on his skin, a chill running up his spine.

Lying in bed for a moment longer, trying to discern the sound, he finally figures out what it is. Or at least where it's coming from.

Suguru's room, of course.

In a deep midnight haze, Satoru vaguely thinks a murderer might've broken into their flat and is now massacring Suguru with a machete or something equally as brutal. As a last-second decision he grabs his old baseball bat from his closet and slowly creeps out into the hallway, ready to pummel any stranger he may see on the way to Suguru's room. It would be funny if it wasn't so scary.

When he gets to Suguru's room, just a few yards down the hall, he sees the door is slightly open. More proof that there's a murderer in their apartment, since Suguru never leaves the door open. He doesn't have time to think much of the door, though, because he's much more concerned by the strangled screaming sound coming from inside. Tentatively, Satoru pushes the door with the bat until it's wide enough for him to slide inside.

He's expecting a shadowy figure standing over Suguru's bed with a big knife raised above his head, glistening with blood. He's also expecting to die. Satoru raises the bat, ready to defend himself, and Suguru too if it isn't too late to save him.

What he isn't expecting is the only person in the room to be Suguru. He also isn't expecting for Suguru to be thrashing around on his bed, tangled up in his sheets. Screaming, crying, and whimpering. No murderer or Grim Reaper. Just, alone.

"Oh," Satoru breathes, lowering the bat. His eyes are wide and trying to focus in the darkness. He feels around the wall for a while but can't find the light switch so instead he gives up and approaches the bed, all of his movements covered by the veil of darkness. "Suguru?"

There's no response aside from a long, low moan of pain or fear or something of the like. Satoru doesn't understand what's going on but he knows he needs to help his roommate who is in obvious distress. He steps over a canvas and drops the bat on the floor before inching closer to the bed.

"Suguru?" Satoru tries again, louder this time. There's no response again and he smacks himself on the forehead with how stupid he is. Suguru is having a nightmare. Just like Shoko described.

The recognition of the situation isn't enough to guide Satoru as to what to do next. Labelling it as such definitely does not make it easier to deal with. But he figures that possibly the first step would be to wake him.

Deciding to dive in and just deal with one issue at a time, Satoru grabs Suguru's shoulders from where he's thrashing and stills them, using quite a bit of force to keep him there. In the darkness Satoru can see his eyes squeeze shut, like he's in pain, and his lips are trembling with unsounded whimpers. Satoru gives him a good shake, saying, quite worriedly, "Wake up Suguru. It's just a bad dream, wake up."

It takes a long while. Shaking him doesn't work very well and Satoru feels bad about doing it since Suguru is clearly very distressed and the last thing he needs is someone shaking him. But Satoru doesn't know another way to wake him up so he just goes with it.

Suguru's conscious state appears quite similarly to his nightmare state so it takes a bit of time before Satoru realizes that Suguru is actually awake now. He's hysterical though, crying, screaming, thrashing.

"Wha- What?"

Satoru breathes out a sigh of relief at the sound of Suguru's voice, finally conveying his lucidity. "It's okay, I've got you. It was just a nightmare. It's okay."

Suguru crumples in response, cowering forward and collapsing around himself. Knees tugged to his chest, hands covering his face as he breathes heavily into his palms. He pulls them away for a second and Satoru can see messy tears glistening in the faded moonlight. He doesn't know what to do so he hovers beside the mattress and waits.

"f*ck," Suguru cusses after a long while of panting into his hands. He groans, hastily wiping at his eyes. "f*ck."

Finally Satoru sees the lamp beside the bed, so he reaches over to turn it on. With a small click, the room is illuminated by warm but dim lighting, painting shadows over Suguru's shaking silhouette.

There are demons in the room. Satoru can't see them but he knows they're there. Like they’re releasing some kind of cursed energy. The air feels dark and heavy, so much so that it's frightening, sending a chill up his spine. He doesn't like the sight of his roommate crumpled around himself, in trembling hysterics, whimpering but trying to keep himself together.

Very tentatively Satoru reaches out and wraps his fingers around Suguru's wrists, slowly pulling them away from his face. He does everything slowly so if Suguru can stop him if he wants to. Once he can see Suguru's face, he starts wiping the tears away with the pads of his thumbs. He doesn't know exactly what to do but he hopes Suguru finds it comforting that Satoru is gently caressing his face.

"It's okay," he whispers, even though he has no idea if it's truly okay or not. The depth of Suguru's mind is not only unchartered but also unfathomable. Certainly he can never even begin to imagine the horrors Suguru must've dreamed up in order to react so intensely. "It's okay. I've got you."

Suguru doesn't react even when Satoru shifts closer and pulls Suguru's body into him, hugging him close to his chest. The boy goes willingly, letting Satoru move him like a marionette until he's half on Satoru's lap and half on the bed. He's still trembling and crying even as he sinks into Satoru's hold and buries his face in his chest. Satoru strokes his back in a way he hopes is comforting, and tries to realistically consider the situation they're in.

Satoru has known for a while now that something is wrong. Suguru is so tentative about everything in a way that suggests more than shyness. Even the most introverted don't act the way Suguru does, not just afraid to speak and interact, but also afraid to exist. He flinches at loud sounds more than the average person and sometimes he gets in this state where a switch is flipped and his face turns impassive and emotionless, like he's drifting somewhere far away that isn't in this realm. He has nightmares and according to Shoko they're a common occurrence.

The other concerning factor is Suguru's home life. His family. Satoru has yet to even vaguely mention the topic because he's so afraid of what will happen if he does. But if what Shoko said is true, and Suguru's parents really didn't love him like the should've... Satoru doesn't know what he'll do. But it would explain a lot.

Then there's the night Suguru came home and Satoru was introduced to this strange, frightening world where some people actually faced true evil and sometimes they didn't win. Satoru has no idea what could've happened to cause Suguru's injuries, but every possible situation makes his stomach churn with anxiety. In fact, any possibility makes him feel nauseously sick.

What the f*ck is he supposed to do? He has no plan of action, no next steps to solve the problem. His roommate he barely knows is crumpled and crying in his arms and all he can do is stroke his back and lie that everything will be okay. He's burning with the need to help Suguru but he doesn't know how.

At the very least, Satoru knows, Suguru could use a friend. Someone who doesn't ask questions but holds him regardless, reassures him and maybe even slowly builds up his confidence until he's stable again. Satoru isn't stupid enough to think that he can fix someone's broken pieces, but he'll be damned if he doesn't try.

He barely knows Suguru, but he's spent enough nights falling asleep beside him on the couch to have been awarded a certain type of intimacy that makes his heart ache. There's something so familiar about the way Suguru crumbles. Every underlying tragedy pulls the strings of their hearts closer together and Satoru would be lying if he said he didn't feel a certain attraction to Suguru. Most of it is definitely just the need to protect something small, damaged, and helpless. Suguru isn't any of those things but at times like this, when he's curled into Satoru's chest and sobbing about a scary dream, he seems like he is.

f*ck is right, Satoru thinks gloomily as he hooks his grasp around Suguru's thighs to tug him more fully onto his lap. This position gives him better leverage for hugging so that's what he does, enveloping Suguru in his arms like he's trying to protect him from the world.

"I'm sorry," Suguru whispers after a long while, apparently calmed down enough to speak and be embarrassed. He starts to pull away but Satoru encourages him to stay, carding his nails down Suguru's back like his mum always did when he was younger. Suguru visibly shivers in reaction and falls pliant again, sinking deeper into Satoru's hold.

"There's nothing to be sorry about. You're fine. It's fine."

Suguru shakes his head quickly and pulls away again. This time Satoru lets him even though he doesn't want to, especially with the way Suguru scrambles back against the wall and starts crying again.

"f*ck. f*ck. I'm so- ugghhh." He drags his hand down his face and scrubs at it harshly like he's punishing himself. He mumbles the rest of it and it sounds a lot like messed up. I'm so messed up.

Satoru won't have any of that so he taps his roommate on the knee until he finally looks up. "Hey now, don't say that. You're not messed up."

So this is why Suguru is always sleeping during the daytime, then. He has nightmares a lot which probably keep him up half the night, and Satoru doesn't blame him for always being so exhausted. It makes sense in a messed up way.

Satoru looks back at Suguru and from the way he's covering his face with his hands it's quite obvious he's mortified. Satoru doesn't want him to be ashamed but he can't think of anything to say to ease the embarrassment. He thinks maybe he should be more honest and upfront because how will they move forward if they don't communicate?

"It's okay. You're fine." Satoru wants to say I'm not bothered, just worried, but that doesn't seem very reassuring. "My cousin gets nightmares sometimes."

It's a lie, but it feels important to let Suguru know he isn't strange or messed up like he says he is. Maybe dishonesty isn't morally correct, but Satoru will be damned if he doesn't try his hardest to make Suguru feel better.

"They do?"

"Yeah," Satoru lies again, cringing internally. He knows he should be truthful with Suguru but he doesn't know what else to say. He's aware that many people have bad dreams and nightmares but he doesn't know anyone in real life, so in order to make his point he has to lie. "We um- We always do something to take her mind off of it."

"What do you mean?"

"Do you want to get out of here? Like out of the apartment, I mean. There's somewhere that always makes me feel better when I'm upset."

Suguru glances at the clock on the table beside the bed, and Satoru follows his gaze. 2:17, it reads in glowing green lights.

"Is it even open now?"

Satoru smiles, already forming a bit of a plan. He feels bad for lying but it's worth it if he can help get Suguru out of his head for a while. "Yeah, it's open twenty-four hours. We can go in our pajamas. But dress warm, okay? It's a bit of a walk and it's cold outside. I don't want you to freeze."

"O- okay," Suguru stutters. He sits up a little straighter but Satoru can still see the puffiness and redness of his face from all that crying. He sniffles, squeezing his eyes shut as a few new tears splash on his rosy cheeks. Satoru resists the urge to wipe them away, knowing that even though the boundaries may seem a bit blurred right now, that doesn't mean they don't exist.

"Meet me at the door in five?"

Suguru nods and Satoru smiles reassuringly one last time before leaving Suguru's room. He has to walk down the dark hallway to his own room where he struggles to find the light switch for a moment. Once dressed in warmer clothes, he joins Suguru at the door to the apartment.

Even through the obvious remnants of his breakdown, and the way he's wearing mismatched clothes not meant for the public eye, Suguru is gorgeous. At least Satoru thinks so, with the way his dark eyes shimmer with unshed tears, and his skin glows in the dim light. His long hair are a mess but endearing in an effortless way and Satoru just wants to run his fingers through it, cuddling close to Suguru and taking all the hurt away.

He wants to wrap Suguru in his arms and never let go. He wants to keep Suguru safe from everything awful and dangerous in the world. He wants to protect him from all the misery and make sure he never suffers.

These are strong desires to have. Satoru should be frightened because he only ever feels this way with his mum and his cousin, Yuta— his family. Yet he isn't really startled by any of it due to the fact that he recognizes Suguru as someone virtuous yet vulnerable, like an angel.

He looks like an angel, too. Even right now, when he's wearing baggy sweatpants and a thick jumper the color of olives beneath a heavy winter coat unlike the black overcoat he usually wears to class. He hasn't bothered to fix his hair, either, and it sticks up in random places making him look absurdly cute. Above it all, his skin is glowing in a way that only happens after he cries for a while, and his eyes may be slightly bloodshot but they're still startlingly piercing, breathtaking.

Satoru has to tear his eyes away, mentally scolding himself for feeling breathless in Suguru's presence. There's no reason for him to feel that way. He takes his mind off of it by looking away and focusing his attention on getting them to their destination.

The best thing about living in Manhattan is there's a place for everything. Any shop he could ever need, only a short walking distance away. Most big cities are like that, but Manhattan is on a different level.

Upon entering the bookstore, Satoru turns to gauge Suguru's reaction even though he already vowed not to look at him anymore. He sees eyes wide, and lips parted in a quiet gasp at the sight. It's three stories of the most obscure books in the city, quaint despite its size. A twenty-four hour bookstore that never closes is its own kind of heaven, in a way. During the day the place is bustling with people, but in the middle of the night it's much quieter and only a few lone people wander the aisles or sit on the floor reading.

Satoru likes it best now because it feels sort of magical under the guise of the night. They wander through the enormous store wordlessly and Satoru knows Suguru is in awe.

When they pass the science fiction section on the second floor they see two girls kissing against the shelf of books whose authors' surnames begin with the letter M. Their hands are all over each other but it's sweet rather than crude and it warms Satoru's heart to see the way they hold each other like it means everything to them.

A couple aisles letter a middle-aged man is sitting at a table in the back, pouring through a stack of law books with a determined look on his face. For two o'clock in the morning he seems abnormally productive but Satoru supposes some people work best at night.

Beside the poetry section a boy is sitting with his back to the shelf, a tattered journal open on his lap and a pen in his hands. Suguru stops here, but far enough away from the boy so they don't disturb him. He turns to Satoru, tugging on his arm and getting him to stop too.

"This place is amazing," he whispers, voice awe-struck and hushed in a successful effort to keep the ambiance intact. Because he's speaking so quietly, he has to lean towards Satoru, his head slightly tilted above, just slightly, in order for his voice to be heard. "I hadn't even known it existed."

Satoru smiles, feeling smug at the way Suguru is so in awe. "It's one of my favorite places."

"Really?" Suguru looks skeptical.

"What?"

"You just- You don't seem like... I don't know."

Satoru squints at him before placing his hands on his hips. "Just because the entirety of the world knows me for the naked pictures I so mistakenly sent to my boyfriend doesn't mean I can't enjoy reading a goddamn book, Suguru."

Suguru's eyes widen and he backs up a step, bumping into a table of best-sellers. The sound resonates through the otherwise quiet store and he cringes at the disruption he just caused.

Satoru laughs a little at the blatant display of clumsiness but he adds a smile to show he isn't mad or even annoyed. He feels bad when he sees how nervous Suguru looks, like he thinks Satoru is actually mad at him, "Just teasing, Suguru. I get what you're saying and the answer is yes, really. This is one of my favorite places. And I'm surprised you've never been here before, Mr. Art Student Indie Hipster."

Suguru ignores his gentle ribbing in favor of responding shakily, "I usually just go to Butler."

Butler is Columbia's library, which also happens to be one of the most inclusive research libraries in the entire world. It's absolutely gorgeous and has approximately two million books in the central stacks. It's amazing.

But there's something different about the bookstore they're in right now. Something special about it. Maybe it's the fact that it's a store and not a library. But no, it's more than that. It's the atmosphere and the ambiance and the magic behind it all. It's the type of people who come here in the middle of the night, not just students like at Butler, but girls who kiss in the science fiction section, and adults who teach themselves law for the sake of justice, and kids who write poetry in tattered journals, and roommates who wander the aisles to take their minds off nightmares.

He tells Suguru all of this and Suguru agrees, as they amble through the poetry section. After that, they got lost in the quietness for a while, picking up books that seem interesting to them and occasionally sharing them with each other. It feels as though time has stopped just for now and they're in their own little bubble. A sanctuary that keeps them tucked away and safe from the rest of the world. They find refuge between the pages of the books, between the lines of the pages, between the words of the lines, between the letters of the words...

They end up purchasing a stack of books to share. On the walk home Satoru leans his head on Suguru’s shoulder. Usually he's cranky being woken from sleep but right now he just feels tired and cuddly. It may or may not have something to do with the way Suguru’s presence calms him to no end.

They're almost back home and Satoru is already dreaming of slipping into Suguru’s bed and curling around him, hugging him tight and never letting go. Falling asleep that way to keep the nightmares away. Suguru is quiet and sweet and warm, always warm. Satoru doesn't know him very much at all but there's something about him that shines so bright, something about him that feels so safe. He wants to smother himself in it.

This is progress, right? Satoru comforted Suguru from the terror of his nightmare and then stole him away to an enchanted bookstore. They had actual discussions about books and poetry and that has to bring them closer together, doesn't it?

Can they be considered friends now? Do they know enough about each other to be more than just acquaintances made roommates? Satoru isn't certain but he hopes the answer is yes. The weight of which he likes Suguru presses down on him harder and harder every day.

Satoru wants to help Suguru and he knows he's motivated by more than just a possible savior complex. He wants to help Suguru because Suguru deserves comfort and happiness. He should never feel afraid. He should never wake in the middle of the night from nightmares that wrack his conscience with fear. He should never come back home with his face battered and bruised. He should never crumble and curl in on himself like he wishes he didn't exist.

Satoru wants to help Suguru but he doesn't know how. Right now he assumes the best option is to just be a really good friend to Suguru, get close to him so he feels comfortable speaking about whatever it is that's troubling him so. And maybe then Satoru can find comfort in Suguru too.

Maybe he already has.

Chapter 8

Chapter Text

The next day they don't talk about it, which comes as no surprise. But Suguru looks at Satoru differently.

It's difficult to explain. Satoru is lazing about on the couch, though he's all dressed up in skinny jeans and an expensive streetwear hoodie. Clifford is lying on top of him, nose nuzzled into Satoru's neck, sleeping soundly. He's going out with his friends tonight but he got ready a bit early, so he decided to pass the time by sending his friends snapchats of himself cuddling with his dog.

At one point he looks over towards where Suguru is sitting on the armchair, typing away on his laptop. He's working on an essay analyzing one of his own art pieces for a class but he refuses to let Satoru know even what type of media it is, if it's a painting or drawing or even a photograph.

But when Satoru looks over at him he sees Suguru has stopped typing and is staring at Satoru instead. There's this weird little smile on his face, and Suguru hardly ever smiles unless he's forcing it, but this isn't a forced smile. It's a real one, Satoru can tell, because his dimple is right there and Satoru feels like melting because why is Suguru looking at him like that?

So he asks, "What?"

Suguru shakes his head and looks away, eyes fluttering back to the screen of his laptop. He bites his lip to keep back the smile but he doesn't resume his typing.

Satoru sits up, deracinating Clifford. There's a faint blush on Suguru's face and Satoru won't let himself imagine why. "Seriously, what?"

"Nothing."

Suspicious, Satoru eyes him for a while before deciding his roommate is just being weird and harmless. He checks his phone for the time and sees he should be leaving within the next few minutes in order to arrive ten minutes late which is exactly on time in his opinion. When he looks back at Suguru an idea strikes him.

"You should come with me."

"Huh?"

"I'm meeting up with Nanami, Shoko, and Utahime. You should come."

"Uhh, pass."

Satoru gives him a weird look, not really understand what's going on in Suguru's mind. Then again, he never really understands him. "Why? They're your friends too, you know."

"I have to finish this, though."

"Suguruuuu," Satoru whines, exasperated and fairly certain he's just making excuses to get out of going out. "It isn't due until Monday."

Suguru rubs at his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers, very obviously annoyed. He gives in so easily, it's comical. "Fine."

Satoru cheers obnoxiously in victory, but beyond the facade of joking triumph he feels secretly very pleased with himself. He wouldn't be pushing for Suguru to go out with them if he didn't think it was a good idea. It's important to get Suguru out of the apartment every once in a while and Satoru feels a lot better knowing he'll be able to watch over Suguru tonight too, just to make sure he's safe and having fun.

Right. So the thing is Satoru is afraid to have a repeat of the night Suguru came home crying and covered in bruises. It's only been a week since then but Satoru feels increasingly protective of Suguru, because he's realized exactly how much he needs someone to keep him safe. Satoru doesn't like seeing his roommate hurt or upset, and when he thinks about what happened he feels this brotherly urge to protect him, just like he’d protect his younger sibling if he had any.

Suguru gets ready quickly, because they have to leave in a few minutes if they don't want the others to yell at them for being late. They meet up at the front door to walk to the bar together, and by then Suguru is wearing black high waisted jeans and a sheer black blouse with red and pink flowers decorating the front. Satoru has never seen him wear something like this, since they're always at home together wearing comfy clothes, so it's a bit of a surprise. Satoru hadn't known Suguru had it in him to wear something so out-there and daring, with the way the blouse is basically diaphanous. Especially for someone so timid and shy, it's strange to see this different side of him.

Suguru slides on his boots and then they head out together in relative silence. Luckily, the city is noisy as always so there's no pressure to have a real conversation. They've become slightly closer since the night they spent at the bookstore, but Satoru still feels like he's awkwardly dancing around the elephant in the room whenever he even looks at his roommate.

There's just... He has never been in a situation like this before. He has never had to deal with someone else's bruises, tears, or nightmares. He feels out of his depth, out of his supposedly vast realm of experience and knowledge which he used to think was quite vast, but now knows isn't much at all. He has no idea what to do. It's unsettling.

Meeting up with his friends at a bar, however, is indeed something in his vast realm of experience and knowledge. In fact, it's something he used to do all the time. Immediately upon entering the bar he feels calmer, despite it's chaotic atmosphere. He may not know how to act around his strange roommate, but he does know how to act in a bar.

They find the three of them sitting at a booth, obviously not waiting for Suguru and Satoru to arrive to begin drinking if the half-consumed beers and already empty glasses littering the table are any indication. Once they get their drinks, they sit down at the table, Satoru next to Utahime and Suguru left to decide which side to sit on. Shoko spares him the decision and pulls him to her side, throwing her arm around Suguru's shoulder and cuddling him into her side. Suguru remains cataleptically still for a moment before finally relaxing. It's a small detail, easily overlooked; Satoru only notices because he's watching so closely.

It doesn't feel strange at all for the five of them to hang out together, even though they've never been in this exact group before. Satoru is great friends with Shoko, and close with Nanami too, but he's never really interacted much with Utahime. They know each other of course, they're aware of each other, and they've had a conversation or two but never much.

And then, of course, there's Suguru. Not for the first, Satoru wonders how he hasn't met Suguru until now.

I mean, he lived at Shoko’s place for a few weeks, Satoru reasons with himself.

How could I not have met him?

Though with the way Suguru is so shy, so careful about meeting new people, he supposes it makes sense. Whenever he leaves the apartment, it's to go to the art building, and that's a place Satoru has never even considered spending any time in. In fact, he isn't exactly sure he knows where it is. There's absolutely no reason for a chemistry major to go to the art wing.

But maybe Suguru is his reason. Maybe Suguru is his motivation to branch out and open his mind a bit. Now that he thinks about it, he wouldn't mind it so much.

"Gojo, why aren't you drinking?" Nanami asks as he's kicking back another beer. The kid can drink like a sailor, but Satoru is pretty sure he's never seen him drunk. He holds his alcohol well, as a result of his consecutive nights out in addition to his heritage. Satoru thinks he could out drink anyone under the table without showing any signs of faltering. It's impressive, and a useful talent at times.

"I am drinking," Satoru argues petulantly, hand tightening around his glass. He used to be a big partier but lately he just isn't into it. He can't think of a good reason why to drink as much anymore. There's no fun in it when he knows he'll be up half the night, drunk and alone with his ugly thoughts, unless he really wants to give into his reputation and find someone to take home just to silence it all. "I'm just not in the mood to get wasted, is all."

From across the table, Suguru eyes him curiously in between sips of his own drink. While Satoru feels more like abstaining tonight, it seems Suguru is keen on getting drunk.

"Designated driver," Shoko adds to the conversation, using her free hand to point at Satoru.

"None of us drove here, idiot."

"It's a symbolic title."

Satoru huffs a laugh as the conversation turns into a discussion over sports, complete with lighthearted raillery. He doesn't mind being the one to stay coherent and make sure everyone gets home safely at the end of the night, especially considering all the times in the past when Nanami and Shoko have done the same for him.

So they all drink until they're sufficiently wasted, except Satoru who nurses a drink or two but mostly just enjoys laughing at the others' stupidity. At some point during the night, Shoko won't shut up about how much she wants to dance, so they abandon their table in favor of going across the street to one of Shoko’s favorite clubs.

They join the edge of the crowd, not willing to venture farther in where it smells too heavily like sex and sweat and the temperature is probably ten degrees hotter. Forming a little circle, they dance stupidly to the beat of the music, making each other laugh.

It's a nice change that none of them seem keen on looking to pull, so they stick together without the greater purpose of seducing strangers to take home. It's more fun and more enjoyable this way, to know they'll stick together until the end of the night and can just be silly with each other.

After a long while, they sort of split up. Nanami goes to look for more alcohol while Shoko and Utahime f*ck off to god knows where, doing god knows what. Probably each other. Suguru wants to keep dancing, but he keeps bumping into the people behind him, making them glare in annoyance.

Satoru obliges him, but tugs him forward with a grip on his flailing forearms so he's out of range of the people around them, no longer about to accidentally punch anyone in the face.

Of the two weeks Satoru has known him, he has never seen Suguru like this—so carefree, beaming happily and not paying any mind to anything except for how good it feels to dance to the music and completely let go.

Of course, he's drunk. So it isn't the real him, but maybe it's a part of him that he keeps hidden deep down, buried beneath insecurity and reticence. He likes Suguru now, giggling drunkenly and mostly making a fool of himself but in a good way. He looks gorgeous like this, glowing with sweat beneath the flashing lights, a stray curl falling forward onto his forehead, bare skin shimmery underneath the sheer black fabric of his eccentric blouse. It makes Satoru ache to think that in some other universe, he is this happy, buoyant, and untroubled all the time, instead of just when he has had too many strawberry daiquiris.

"Why aren't you dancing?" Suguru whines childishly, tripping on his own feet and stumbling forward.

Satoru steadies him with a hand on his arm, surprised at how warm Suguru feels compared to his own cold fingers. "I am dancing," he asserts with a laugh, though it's pretty much a lie. Mostly he's just bouncing a little on his feet to the beat and cackling at Suguru's stupidity. It's such a contrast to who he usually is, it's entertaining to witness.

Suguru frowns at him before throwing his head back and whining again, "No you're nottttt." He flings his arm out and it ends up wrapped around Satoru's neck, to which he tugs him closer until he's clinging to Satoru and resting most of his weight on him. "Dance with me for reeeeeeal."

He snuggles his face into his neck, panting heavily and leaving humid breath ghosting over Satoru's skin, sending chills down his spine at the carnal sensation. It feels like brushing hands with a complete stranger or kissing your best friend—too intimate.

Satoru hooks his hands beneath Suguru's armpits in a failing attempt to pry him off. Suguru just clings on tighter, squeezing Satoru uncomfortably to his chest and trying to make them sway to the beat. He tries not to think about how embarrassed Suguru will be tomorrow, if he remembers any of this. With the amount of drinks he's had tonight, full recollection in the morning seems doubtful.

When Satoru isn't paying attention, more focused on keeping them from tipping over and collapsing to the ground, Suguru clumsily flips himself over so his back is pressed to Satoru's front. Satoru stills in shock, still clutching Suguru's sides to keep him upright.

"Dance with me," he repeats, again and again, manually sliding Satoru's hands down from his upper ribcage to his hips.

Satoru immediately backs away in shock but Suguru follows him, trying his best to keep them pressed together. He lifts a hand from where it was engulfing Satoru's on his hip and points towards the crowd where a bunch of couples are grinding on each other. "Dance with me like that," he beseeches, lulling his head back to rest it on Satoru's shoulder.

"No, Suguru, let- Let go," He says in slightly hysteric, anxious frustration, trying to pull his hands free and return to a safe distance away from him. Suguru's grip finally slips and he breaks free, separating their bodies decisively.

Suguru wobbles drunkenly, pouting at the loss of contact. "Why not?"

Satoru shakes his head, not dignifying his question with a response. He wants Suguru to go back to dancing happily without begging for anything on the verge of being sexual. He doesn't want the space between them to be nonexistent. He doesn't want to cross the boundaries he knows they'll both regret having crossed in the morning. He doesn't want the desire thrumming within his bones to have a reason to rise to the surface. He doesn't want to give in. Desperately he wishes for the others to return and save him from this unbearably awkward situation. He prays Suguru won't remember this in the morning.

Reprieve thankfully comes when Nanami returns, followed by the other two. They dance a while more, but it's apparent that everyone is either exhausted or too out of it to continue on. At the end of the night, Satoru walks everyone back to their doors. Nanami is lucid enough to go off on his own, but Satoru makes sure Shoko and Utahime are settled in their respective apartments before tugging Suguru the rest of the way home.

Drunk Suguru is quite the menace, and Satoru has been dealing with him all night. He would be annoyed if he wasn't so endeared. Suguru clings to him the entire walk home, making "jokes" that don't make sense at all, and trying to talk to random strangers who are walking down the sidewalk as Satoru apologizes on Suguru's behalf.

Finally back at their apartment, Satoru guides Suguru onto a kitchen chair and encourages him to drink an entire glass of water. Suguru doesn't want to drink it, so he frowns and pouts like a child before playing silly games like blowing bubbles into the glass and then proceeding to spill the rest of it down the front of his shirt, giggling until he feels the coldness on his skin and immediately looks as if he's about to cry.

By then he's on the brink of tears, shivering and begging Satoru to hug him to warm him up. Satoru says he isn't doing anything until Suguru drinks another glass of water, since he spilled most of the first one. He drinks it slowly but dutifully with a childish grimace and opens his eyes wide, impatient, as soon as he finishes.

"Nope," Satoru states very clearly, like he's talking to a little kid with limited intellect. "I'm not coming near you until you change into dry clothes." He's hoping by the time Suguru puts his pajamas on, he'll have forgotten all about wanting Satoru's cuddles.

No such luck. Suguru starts sobbing loudly from his bedroom after having left the kitchen to change his clothes. Now he's crying for Satoru's help. Satoru moves quickly in case something is actually wrong, feeling worry seep into his veins even though he's probably fine. When he enters Suguru's room he notices some of the canvases are uncovered, but he's too distracted to look at Suguru's art. Besides, it would be sh*tty of him to take advantage of his roommate's inebriated state.

Suguru is wearing a pair of skimpy pajama shorts and is in the process of putting on a jumper. The jumper, however, is tangled around his arms and caught on his head. He cries, the whimpering sound muffled by the fabric, too drunk and uncoordinated to get himself unstuck.

Satoru has to bite his lip to keep his smile back. He crosses the room towards his drunk, distressed roommate who would be so embarrassed to know he was acting like this. With attentive hands he untangles Suguru from the jumper and pulls it down properly, situating it so it lies correctly on his shoulders. The material is short though, and it only reaches down to the bottom of his rib cage. When Satoru steps back he realizes it's a cropped sweater that isn't meant to cover his tummy.

Suguru throws his arms around Satoru's neck and hugs him tightly in gratitude, saying "Thank you!" over and over again until the words become extremely extraneous. When Satoru finally pries him off again, Suguru leans across the bed and grabs the socks he had discarded there earlier. He attempts to pull them over his feet but fails miserably, lacking the coordination he needs to put them on.

"Help me," he begs, shoving the socks into Satoru's hands.

Satoru sighs but obliges, just to placate him. He grabs Suguru's ankle and pulls his leg over to his lap, sliding the sock onto his bare foot, then grabbing his other ankle and doing the other. They're cream-colored, knitted, knee-high, and have little silk bows on the top, but Satoru keeps the socks bunched down because Suguru probably meant to grab a normal pair of socks, and chose these in his intoxication.

Satoru was wrong. Suguru bats his hands away and pulls them up to his thighs before clambering off the bed and stumbling into a standing position like Bambi taking his first steps.

He raises his eyebrows at Suguru's eccentric choice of clothing. He looks ridiculous like this, wearing a crop-top jumper, revealing shorts that barely cover his ass, and thigh-high socks with little silk bows on the tops. Like some sort of strange, mismatched, intoxicated seductress. So used to seeing his roommate wear jeans and band t-shirts, or ugly sweaters from thrift shops, he feels like sometime during the night he accidentally entered a portal to an alternate universe.

"I did what you said," Suguru states matter-of-factly, approaching the bed where Satoru is sitting. He trips over his discarded jeans on the floor and nearly faceplants onto the mattress, but somehow manages to right himself just before he crashes. "Can we cuddle now?"

Satoru shakes his head, not sure how to get out of this situation. He stands up and helps Suguru into bed, maneuvering him so his head is somewhere near the pillow. Tugging the blanket over his curled-up roommate, he tucks the sheets up to his chin before pulling away. "You should get some sleep, Sugu. I'll be in my room if you need anything." The last part is added more as a formality than anything. Exhaustion has hit him and all he wants to do now is sleep until morning.

Suguru stares up at him cooperatively with his big, docile brown eyes. He looks gorgeous as always, but vulnerable. Open. Willing.

Satoru pats Suguru's head in appeasem*nt like he would a dog, purposefully ignoring the way Suguru keens up into the touch and closes his eyes happily like a kitten. He feels remorse leaving like that, but his own bed is calling him, so he drops his hand and begins walking towards the door.

On his way there, Suguru says something that Satoru doesn't quite catch. It sounds like, "He hurts me."

Satoru knows he shouldn't ask, should just keep walking, because this is probably about to open a whole new can of worms. Still, a confused "Huh?" slips out of his mouth before the rational part of his brain can catch up.

"Daddy hurts me," Suguru enunciates, sitting up on his elbows and staring at Satoru very seriously.

Hand on the doorknob, Satoru closes his eyes for a long second and lets a flood of anxiety wash over him like the waves of the ocean. When he opens them again, he sees Suguru is still gazing at him, looking an impossible mix of somber and innocent. The vulnerability is still there and it makes Satoru sick with worry.

Satoru drums his fingertips on the wood of the door. Chews on his bottom lip. Doesn't know what to say.

Suguru stares at him for another weary, drawn-out moment. Then he lowers himself back down so he's lying on the mattress again, drags the sheets up to cover himself, and cuddles the extra pillow to his chest.

Satoru eaves the room feeling like he missed a big opportunity to say something important, but still not knowing what it is he should've said.

Chapter 9

Chapter Text

Saturday mornings used to be a specific phenomenon Satoru never really experienced. Partying late every Friday night meant he usually slept well into the following afternoon. Now, with his new relaxed habits, he's finally experiencing the true beauty of a gentle, peaceful Saturday morning.

He's sitting on the armchair with a cup of earl grey tea warming his hands. He's back in a fresh pair of pajamas, his hair still wet from his shower after his run with Clifford. Clifford is sleeping soundly on his lap, satisfied from the morning's sufficient exercise.

Everything is great. He has all weekend to study for his exams and analyze some of the data he recently acquired from his research at the lab. He should probably have a decent amount of time to himself, too, to do what he wants. Right. So everything is great, except... Except he can't stop thinking about what Suguru said last night.

He hurts me.

Daddy hurts me.

Satoru manages to forget it every so often, but every few minutes the words find their way back into his mind and he cringes uncomfortably, feeling shivery and worried. The thing is, it's not very hard to understand. Satoru is just desperately searching for any alternative that isn't as horrible as the glaringly obvious translation of Suguru's words.

Petting Clifford nervously, he squints at the TV and tries to distract himself with the news. It doesn't work. He ends up wondering if Suguru is talking about his actual dad, or a boyfriend he calls Daddy. Either one is plausible. Either one is disturbing. The point is that someone is hurting Suguru. Present tense, not past tense.

It makes sense. What did Satoru think, anyways? This isn't a shock. Obviously someone is hurting him. Satoru had just blithely, ignorantly hoped it was a one-time thing.

Suguru stumbles out into the kitchen around ten o'clock, very obviously hungover. His hair is a rumpled mess and his eyes are tired. He's wearing everything from last night except the socks. Satoru wonders what he thought when he woke up and saw what his drunk self wanted to wear. He carelessly digs through the cupboard, searching for painkillers and not finding them right away.

By now Satoru is exceedingly nervous, stomach twisted in knots. He displaces Clifford, rearranging him on the chair, and tentatively enters the kitchen. As soon as his bare feet step onto the hardwood floor of the kitchen, Suguru tenses, spine straightening and muscles tightening. Suguru looks back at him briefly before continuing to rummage through the medicine cupboard.

Satoru taps his shoulder in passing to get his attention, saying, "Bottom shelf." Suguru flinches but recovers quickly, finding the bottle of pills at Satoru's directions and popping three in his mouth. The recommended dosage is two. He swallows them down with a swig of water, hands shaking.

"Alright?" Satoru asks softly, setting the kettle on the stove. He braces his fingers against the counter and keeps his back to Suguru, finding himself unable to face him.

"Yeah, fine. Thanks."

"Mhm," Satoru hums, wondering how to bring up what Suguru said last night. Now obviously isn't the time. So when, then?

Suguru sits down at the kitchen table with his water bottle in his hands. Satoru can't see him but he can imagine it, with the sound of the chair scraping against the floor. He can imagine him staring blankly at the table top, wringing the bottle through his hands in heavy contemplation.

"Did I..." he starts, hesitating, voice deep and raspy from sleep. Satoru waits patiently for him to continue but still cannot find the strength within him to turn around to face his roommate. "Did I do something last night?"

"What do you mean?" Satoru asks, feigning cluelessness. He knows what Suguru means. He knows what Suguru is worried about.

"Umm, I don't usually drink a lot, so like... I dunno. If I like, said something, or did something, or. I dunno."

Now is the time to bring it up. Now is the time to talk about it.

But Satoru is a coward.

"No, everything was fine. Is fine. Last night was fun, do you remember going to the club? We danced a lot and acted like idiots. Then we got everyone home safe and pretty much just crashed."

Satoru finally turns, in time to watch Suguru's shoulders relax. He looks significantly less tense, though it's quite obvious he has a headache. Satoru has pity on him, and fills a cup of tea before setting it down in front of him.

"What do you want for breakfast?"

Suguru wraps his hands around the mug, presumably to warm them. He's still shaking and it probably isn't from the cold. Satoru tries not to pay attention to the way his hands completely encapsulate the mug, but, well, he doesn't have that much self control. Suguru has really nice hands. "I can get it, it's fine. Thanks."

"No, let me- Um, I can make... I can make toast? Eggs?" Satoru rummages around the kitchen looking for things that don't include meat, vaguely remembering Suguru saying something about being a- what was it he said? Vegetarian? Vegan? He throws a few pieces of toast in the toaster-oven before opening the fridge up, hoping there are eggs. There are.

"Thanks," Suguru mutters. He pushes his mug away from his face to rest his head on his folded arms on the table.

Satoru cooks and Suguru sits, both of them in relative silence. At one point, Clifford wanders into the kitchen, sniffing the air and searching for treats. Suguru scratches behind his ears and coos at him quietly, calling him beautiful boy in a quiet baby voice reserved especially for Clifford.

"You're not having breakfast?" Suguru asks after Satoru sets his plate down in front of him and starts cleaning up the kitchen.

"Nah, already ate."

"Oh. I thought- You didn't have to do this, Satoru."

Satoru's eyes widen, trying not to overreact. He angles his face away from Suguru while he recollects himself, letting out a shaky "It's fine," in response. It seems Suguru's general shyness is overridden by his gratitude.

Satoru leaves the kitchen before either of them can say anything else, but on his way he passes the blanket they keep on the couch and decides to bring it back to Suguru. He can't stand to see his bare legs in the cold kitchen any longer. He plops the blanket on Suguru's lap before retreating back to the couch, Clifford following him all the while. Behind him, Suguru squawks out another thanks, and when Satoru looks back he's lying the blanket over his lap.

They spend the day quietly. Satoru works while Suguru disappears in his room to either sleep off his hangover or work on his art. They don't reconvene until the evening when Suguru emerges again to make an Italian dinner. Satoru decides he likes living with Suguru because he gets real meals he never got before when he lived with any of his various boyfriends. None of them could cook, and neither can Satoru, so it was always takeout or cereal for dinner. And that's fine for a little while, but he's quite sick of that now. Suguru being here and cooking real meals reminds him a bit of home.

Speaking of home, he misses his family. He hasn't been home in a long while, since before he broke up with his last boyfriend and everything went to hell. He had an internship in Dallas last summer, and between that and school he never found the time to make it home. He has called his mum a few times since then, and talked with his cousin on the phone as well, but certainly not enough.

He decides to call his mum right now, since the current time complies with the time zone difference. She picks up on the second ring and greets him animatedly. They catch up for a little while before she asks what's wrong.

"Does something always have to be wrong for me to call?" he asks, laughing a little, although the deeper truth makes him uncomfortable. He needs to call home more often.

"The past few times you called haven't been too good," she points out, very motherly.

Satoru sighs, laughing weakly. She's right. The past few months haven't been his favorite, and he's definitely been sadder ever since the bad thing happened, destroying his reputation and causing him to lose his job. He hadn't thought his mum noticed, but in retrospect of course she did.

"Yeah, well, everything's okay right now. I'm just calling 'cause I miss you guys."

"I'm glad, dear. We miss you too. Come home soon, yeah? We always want you here."

Four years ago when Satoru was deciding where to attend college, he applied to a ton of schools in the U.S. because he had kind of wanted to get away, broaden his scope of the world and all that. Obviously he knew it would separate him from his family and he wouldn't always be able to come home. But now that he really doesn't have the money to fly home whenever he wants, he feels kind of trapped. He doesn't regret coming to New York, but sometimes he wonders how his life would be if he never came here in the first place.

His mum asks about what's new with him and somehow it slips out that he has a new roommate. His mum inquires curiously about what he's like and wonders out loud if she'll ever get to meet him. Satoru tells her about Suguru's art and his shyness and how he's really nice and understanding even if he seems a bit aloof at first. He wants to tell her about the bruises and the night Satoru held him in his arms, soothing away his tears, but it feels too intimate and personal to even mention it. He wants to tell her about what Suguru said last night but he doesn't even know where to begin.

So he talks about how they watch Planet Eart with Clifford on the couch, and how he lived with Shoko, and how he sings when he doesn't know Satoru is home. How beautiful his voice is. How much Satoru wants to get to know him, wants to know more about him. Wants to know everything.

Satoru doesn't mean to spend the remaining half hour of their phone call talking about Suguru, but. It happens.

Chapter 10

Chapter Text

Satoru doesn't expect Suguru to go out again that very night.

He does, though, and Satoru finds himself staring without meaning to, when Suguru bends over and a small slip of lavender lace peaks out above the waistline of his jeans. Lingerie. Satoru's mind spins with the extraneous information that Suguru is wearing lace panties right now beneath his clothes...

When he straightens up after slipping on his Chelsea boots, Satoru looks away quickly and pretends to have been watching the TV. He fiddles with his phone, suddenly nervous. The last time Suguru went out, he came back sobbing and battered with bruises.

He hurts me.

Satoru sighs, leaning back into the couch. He can't get the thought of Suguru wearing lace out of his traitorous mind. "Going out?" He asks, even though it's none of his business and anyway the answer is obviously yes.

Suguru turns around and eyes him warily. "Yeah. Don't wait up for me."

"Got it," he mutters in response, trying to return his attention to the textbook on his lap. The words blur into one another and he finds he can't comprehend a single sentence.

Neither one of them says anything else as Suguru leaves, locking the door behind him. Satoru closes his textbook and groans loudly into the now otherwise empty flat.

He gets so little work done, it's pathetic. He ends up watching Pitch Perfect 2 while disregarding his textbook completely, and then messes around on his phone, sending Shoko memes from 2010 until he feels too exhausted to even keep his eyes open. Only then does he crawl into bed and turn out the light, falling asleep almost immediately.

Five hours later, Suguru returns. From the comfort of Satoru's own bed, he can hear Suguru stumbling through the apartment. He can hear him crying.

Sitting up, belly filling with nerves, he stares at the wall until he's gained enough courage to leave his bed. Then he slips on a pair of sweats, because greeting a crying Suguru while only wearing boxers would not be a fun experience. He tiptoes out of the room and tries to figure out how to approach the situation.

Suguru is standing in the hallway with his back turned to him, hands covering his eyes and crying loudly. He looks significantly more disheveled than when he left, his shirt inside-out and his hair a mess. Sex hair. He has sex hair, Satoru realizes with a start.

Satoru decides to pretend he was just getting up to go to the bathroom. Suguru turns around before he can plan and memorize any lines to play his part.

Suguru doesn't say anything. He doesn't need to. The tears and the bruises speak for themselves.

Stupidly, Satoru asks, "Are you alright?"

Obviously the answer is no. Suguru gives him one long look before running his hand through his rumpled hair, tugging on the hem of his shirt, and disappearing inside his bedroom. Slamming the door shut. Hard.

On Sunday they don't talk about it. They don't talk about it on Monday, either, or Tuesday, or Wednesday, or Thursday, and on and on and on.

It's an awful habit, this "not talking" thing they have going on. Satoru hates it. He desperately wants to pester Suguru about it, but instead he just presses his lips tightly together and keeps his nose confined to his own business. If Suguru wants to talk, he'll talk.

Suguru doesn't talk.

The injuries fade with time and Suguru is sickeningly good at covering them up with makeup every time he leaves the flat. He doesn't even try to hide the wounds from Satoru, but he sure as hell hides them from everyone else.

He hurts me, Suguru had confessed drunkenly. Somber voice, innocent eyes. Daddy hurts me.

Satoru feels sick just thinking about it. Now he's pretty sure it's a boyfriend. Probably the ex-boyfriend Shoko had mentioned, the one who was exceedingly controlling and always acted like an asshole to Suguru. It would make a lot of sense.

Although, Shoko had also mentioned Suguru had a bad home life, and his parents "didn't love him like they should've." Satoru shudders to think about what exactly that could entail.

Abuse seems most likely. He can't fathom the extent, and isn't comfortable making any guesses.

Satoru doesn't know much about abuse survivors, but he thinks Suguru might be showing sufficient symptoms.

Chapter 11

Chapter Text

Suguru has another nightmare the following Wednesday night.

It's unexpected. Satoru hasn't thought much about the first one; he thought it was a one-time thing. Of course, he's wrong.

He wakes up to the sound of Suguru's whimpering cries. Disoriented by darkness and fear, he stumbles out of bed and somehow manages to blunder into Suguru's room, flipping the lights on this time. The brightness is just as disorienting; it burns his eyes.

The experience from last time hardly helps him at all—he's still completely unsure of what to do. Suguru is still asleep though, moaning in seeming agony. Satoru squeezes his shoulders and shakes him gently until he wakes.

"f*ck!" Suguru cries out, sounding pained and frightened. He backs himself up against the wall, trembling with fear like a startled animal.

"It's okay," Satoru soothes, keeping his distance so he doesn't scare him any further. "It's okay, it's okay, you're fine, you're-"

"f*ck," Suguru groans, louder this time, effectively shutting Satoru up from his babbling. He curls in on himself, still shaking like a dog. Eyes squeezed shut, he sobs wildly, panicking.

The brightness of the overhead light makes the room appear surgical and bleak. Satoru wants to turn the ceiling light off in favor of the nightstand lamp, but he'll have to make do for now. He sits down on the bed, far enough away so that it isn't seen as a threatening gesture, and waits for Suguru to calm down. He wants to comfort him but he doesn't know how.

He keeps crying. Satoru is worried. It's worse than last time.

He shifts forward slowly, making sure Suguru can see his movement and isn't startled by it. Eventually, he moves up enough so that he can put a hand on his knee, gentle and hopefully reassuring. His hand remains there, unmoving, as Satoru shifts a little closer, hoping the new proximity will assuage his fears. He wonders if Suguru is one of those people who prefer to be held when they cry, rather than to be given space and distance. There's no way to know without trying.

Satoru pulls Suguru closer so he's almost sitting on Satoru's lap. With a hand on his upper back, right between his shoulder blades, muscles rigid and tense, Satoru can feel how physically strong Suguru is despite his fear. It's strange to think someone so big and strong is so emotionally weak and frightened.

In fact, it makes Satoru feel sick and distraught. There's a type of person in the world who is soft yet strong, warm yet calm, and protective yet freeing. Suguru is exactly that type of person, when he's not in hysterics that is. But when he's like this, so broken down and admittedly pathetic, it's heart-wrenching.

"Shh, shh, it's okay," Satoru tells him carefully with support and encouragement. He can't help himself when he leans forward to rest his cheek on the top of Suguru's head. He also can't help himself when he nuzzles his nose into Suguru's hair, breathing him in. It's a weird detail to notice at a time like this, but Suguru smells really, really good. Like mint toothpaste mixed with fruity body wash.

He keeps whimpering pitifully and Satoru keeps whispering to him comfortingly. At least he hopes it's comforting. Not for the first time, Satoru wonders how in the hell he ended up sitting with his hysterical roommate in his arms in the middle of the night. For god's sake, Suguru is crying over something that isn't even real.

The truth is that whatever frightening dream he had may not represent real life, but it's real to Suguru, or at least it felt real to him, and isn't that what matters? It isn't about reality at all; it's about perceived reality.

He cuddles Suguru into his side, thinking, what the f*ck am I doing? And why aren't we talking about this?

Eventually, he gets him to stop crying. It's a grueling process. Satoru can tell when Suguru's almost over his freak-out because he starts getting embarrassed, shying away from Satoru's touch. He continues to hold him close, stroking his back comfortingly. Rubbing circles to massage the tension from his muscles.

"Let's go somewhere, yeah? Let's go somewhere to take your mind off of it."

Suguru doesn't put up much of a fight. After last time, it seems, he trusts Satoru more. Trust is good.

They remain in their pajamas, but Satoru manages to dress Suguru in a warmer jumper because it's freezing outside. He helps him pull it on, helping his arms through and straightening out the hem before giving him a gentle smile. Suguru is perfectly capable of taking care of himself, but that doesn't mean Satoru doesn't want to help, even if he doesn't need to.

They walk through the city just like they did the night they first visited the bookstore together, quiet and close together to share warmth. Satoru wants to grab Suguru's hand to hold it tightly in support, but he doesn't want to freak him out so instead he shoves his fists into the pockets of his trousers to keep his hands warm even in the cold night air.

"Roller skating?"

"Mhm," Satoru confirms, smiling softly and guiding Suguru inside. The place is empty aside from a group of girls giggling sillily, which makes sense seeing as it's the middle of the night.

There's only one worker, as far as Satoru can tell, and he accepts their money and hands over their skates, pointing them over to the benches to switch their shoes. Satoru sits down, resting his back against before kicking his shoes off and tying up his own skates.

Suguru struggles with getting his on, so after a moment of laughing at him, Satoru gets down on his knees in front of him and ties the laces for him. When he looks up, he catches Suguru blushing and avoiding his eyes.

He looks so beautiful like this, is the thing. Sleepy and disheveled, still distraught and upset from the content of his nightmares. His eyes are dark brown and duller than they ought to be, but still so beautifully piercing, they stir something deep in Satoru's gut. Satoru may not know him very well, but he's been around him enough to know that Suguru is a beautiful person, inside and out. He's sweet and shy and deeply traumatized.

Has he always been sweet and shy, or is it the trauma that makes him so? If it's the former, the universe is a cruel place which punishes those deserving of only the best things. If it's the latter, then there's beauty to come of pain, and good in everything.

As it turns out, neither one of them knows how to skate. Satoru is just as clumsy on skates as Suguru is on his own two feet, and Suguru on skates is just another entity entirely. They hold onto the wall of lockers for support, pushing themselves out onto the rink. It's only a moment before they cling to each other instead, trying their hardest not to fall down and laughing all the while.

So it's not the most conventional activity to do in the middle of the night. It's also not the best idea since they're so bad at skating. But it would be a lie to say it's not fun.

They make one full oval while clinging onto the railing and onto each other while singing the lyrics to the nineties music playing when they're not busy crashing down to the ground. After they go around once, they gain a bit of confidence and decide to try going around without holding onto the railing. Satoru holds Suguru’s wrists in his hands and gently pulls him along, very slowly skating backwards.

"We're doing it," Suguru states, breathless and in awe, eyes wide, cheeks pink. He looks carefree and happy, his expression bright and excited, and Satoru feels this warmth in his chest to think that he caused that.

"We are," Satoru agrees, laughing and pulling Suguru along, so relieved to see him smiling after he was so afraid tonight.

Not knowing what Suguru’s nightmares are about is something that nags at Satoru, his curiosity gnawing away at him. He always wants to ask, but he never wants to so carelessly wipe the smile right off his face, so he ends up never asking. It's probably for the best. He would never intentionally recall those images in Suguru’s mind, the memories and nightmares that make his eyes go distant, mind far away, body rigid and fearful.

There is something evil in this world that makes Suguru curl in on himself, collapsing into nothing but shivery bones and sallow skin, dark eyes fearful. For instance: his life is ruled by nightmares and flashbacks and that far off look in his eyes when Satoru can tell his mind is somewhere else entirely. For instance: Satoru wonders if he's reliving the trauma of his past or if he's in some far off paradise, floating through the limbo of dissociation. He doesn't know which is worse.

The roller rink is dark aside from the glow of the few rainbow colored lights in the center of the rink. It has an odd smell like smoke and burnt popcorn, from the fog machine and the concessions stand in the back room. The only other patrons, four girls probably in their late teens, are racing each other around the rink, looking like professionals which ultimately makes Suguru and Satoru look more than inadequate as they cling to each other, trying not to fall to the floor.

"Sugu, we're so pathetic," Satoru says, laughing when they bump into the wall and hang onto the railing to right themselves. When they push themselves out into the center of the rink again, holding hands for support, they're moving so slowly there's no doubt they look ridiculous.

It doesn't matter though, because they're both laughing so hard their stomachs are hurting and their eyes are tearing up. Satoru gasps for breath and laughs some more, finally calming down enough to grin at Suguru.

Suguru smiles back at him, attempting to move them a little faster. But then, before either of them has time to process it, he slips, cursing loudly, "Oh f*ck!" before windmilling his arms in a futile effort to remain balanced and then crashing to the ground. Satoru loses his balance too, and goes down flailing.

Suguru lands on his butt and Satoru lands on top of him, accidentally kneeing him in the groin which causes him to groan outwardly in pain and then flop back onto the floor dramatically, breathing heavily, face scrunched up in pain.

"sh*t, sorry," Satoru apologizes, wincing in sympathy and still trying to contain his laughter by directing it into his palm.

"f*ck, that hurt," Suguru, grimacing and softly rubbing his crotch with his hand. He sits up slowly, propping himself up on his palms, and Satoru finds himself face to face with his roommate, very close. Sharing breaths. He can't help but notice that Suguru smells like mint toothpaste and fruity body wash, something tropical. Mango, maybe. And then there's the undercurrent of vanilla, that always-there smell.

"You okay?"

"You almost killed my dick, but 'm fine," Suguru laughs, his eyes bright and shining like he's holding back tears. Satoru wonders if it's from the pain of getting kneed in the crotch, or from something else entirely.

Suguru looks beautiful like this though. He's always beautiful, but now even more than usual, with his glowing face and his shining brown eyes big, wide, and innocent—no longer dull like they were only moments earlier. The transformation is startling. His hair is a messy disarray from sleep and from the wind outside, but somehow still gorgeously framing his face in long dark locks.

Not for the first time, Satoru finds himself staring down at Suguru’s lips, which are pink and chapped from how he always either bites them or pinches them with his fingers. Not for the first time, Satoru wants to see if they're really as soft and warm as they look. Not for the first time, Satoru wonders what it would be like to kiss him.

He doesn't, though. They're so close, they're sharing breath, but the moment is broken when the girls speed around again and laugh at the sight of them crumpled together on the floor. Satoru jokingly tells them to f*ck off, leaning back to give Suguru space and helping him up by offering him his hands. They struggle to stand up together.

"Little Suguru okay?" Satoru asks jokingly, nodding to Suguru’s crotch, once they're both up and back to sliding with uncertainty on their skates, teetering awkwardly without any grace or ease of balance.

Suguru laughs too, wincing in remembrance but patting his dick jokingly. "All good, I think."

"Sorry again."

"You're good."

They try skating again, and this time it comes slightly easier. They actually manage to make around a few times without falling too much. It's fun and entertaining and Satoru is proud of himself for thinking of an activity that actually has Suguru smiling brightly, laughing unbridledly.

"You hungry?" Satoru asks after a while of them skating like champs.

"It's three in the morning, Toru."

Toru again. He tries his hardest not to melt at the nickname. Why does it sound so good coming from Suguru’s mouth?

"Perfect time for hot chocolate, then," Satoru concludes, turning around carefully and trying hard to skate towards the other end of the rink where there's an entryway to the concessions. He wiggles his butt a little to get moving, having this weird feeling where he hopes Suguru is watching. He doesn't know what to make of this thought, so he pushes it away.

It would be stupid of him to refuse to admit that Suguru is attractive. Truthfully, Suguru is one of the prettiest humans Satoru has ever met. He definitely deserves the recognition for it.

And he's kind, too. That's the thing. That's what really gets Satoru. Suguru may be extremely shy and closed off, but they've been spending so much time together and Satoru is working hard to get him out of his shell. There are glimmers of Suguru’s inner personality, and that's when it's apparent how great of a person he truly is. Satoru wants to see that side of Suguru all the time. So he's trying.

The floor is uneven where the rink ends and the back room begins, and Satoru stumbles over it, nearly braining himself on the doorframe. Suguru comes up behind him, most likely intending to help him and keep him from falling, but he isn't able to stop in time, and he crashes into him from behind, sending him flying right into the countertop, screaming.

The worker behind the counter is laughing, but trying to cover it up with a hand over her mouth. Satoru glares at her jokingly as Suguru scoots over to them, apologizing profusely, eyes worried.

Satoru orders two hot chocolates before turning to Suguru and assuring him it's okay. He doesn't expect to see Suguru shaking in fear, but that's what he's faced with when he looks at him.

"What's wrong?" He asks quietly, suddenly concerned.

"I'm really really sorry, I didn't mean to, please don't be mad..."

Satoru stares at him for a moment. Then he cups his face with one hand and kisses him on the cheek, just barely stopping himself from lingering there. He can't help it. It's an innate reaction. "It's fine, Suguru. I promise I'm not mad." He decidedly doesn't think about why Suguru would be so worried of Satoru getting mad at him for making an honest, harmless mistake. He decidedly doesn't think about anyone in the past who may have yelled at him or even hurt him for messing up.

Suguru looks a little speechless and a little unconvinced. Insecure and worried.

The worker behind the counter hands them their hot chocolates with a tired but cordial smile. Satoru pays for them and Suguru protests only a little.

"When you're a famous artist and filthy rich you can pay for my food," Satoru reasons, twisting his fingers into the back of Suguru’s jumper and using the leverage to tug him back to a booth.

"Unlikely," Suguru mutters, sipping his hot chocolate after sitting down.

Satoru scoffs jokingly. They're kind of back to normal after the prior incident but Satoru is still paying apt attention because he's afraid they're not in the clear quite yet. "Don't even say that. You're so talented, Suguru."

Suguru blushes, cheeks reddened.

Satoru finds it adorable. He decides to tell Suguru. "You're adorable."

"Stoppp," Suguru whines, covering his cheeks with his hands.

Satoru grins at him. "See? Adorable."

"Oh my god," Suguru groans, embarrassed, folding his arms in front of him and burying his face in them. Satoru pats his head teasingly, surprised at how soft his hair is, before tangling his fingers in the strands and carding through his hair, mesmerized. Suguru seems to like it, so he doesn't stop for a while.

"You sleepy?"

"A little."

"We should get you home. You have class early tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah. So do you."

That's true, but Satoru is more concerned about Suguru’s sleep than he is his own. They take their time with their hot chocolate, enjoying it together before they have to leave. Then they return their skates and head out into the city, walking back much closer this time. Satoru thinks he's done well, getting Suguru to open up to him. Obviously there's still so much work to do, but he can tell they're really building up trust.

It's a nice feeling, one he hasn't felt in a long time.

Chapter 12

Chapter Text

"You guys seem a lot closer."

"We are," Satoru agrees, warming his hands up on his mug of tea. They're out for their weekly meet-up at Shoko’s favorite coffee shop on campus. "I think he trusts me more now."

He's a sweetheart, Satoru doesn't say.

"That's good. Have you, uh, figured out if he's okay?"

"I dunno yet." He doesn't really feel like talking to Shoko about Suguru’s stability because it kind of feels too personal, like he's breaking a promise to Suguru by telling someone else or something. "We haven't really talked about it, but he went out again. I think he's seeing his ex."

Shoko squints with uncertainty. "That doesn't make any sense, though. Why would he go back to him? He was an asshole."

"Well, I don't know. Who else would he be seeing? He said it was his boyfriend."

"Yeah, so maybe he met someone new."

"I don't think so. Anyways, what am I supposed to do? It's his decision."

Shoko frowns. "Yeah, but, Suguru is... Suguru."

"What does that even mean?"

"I just think he needs someone looking out for him, is all."

"I am looking after him," Satoru argues, indignant. He thinks about cuddling Suguru on the couch, stroking his hair, and rubbing his back. Comforting him after his nightmares too. Making sure he always has enough to eat, making sure he always gets enough sleep.

"Right. Are you going to his show?"

"Huh?"

"His art show. Next Friday, at the gallery?"

Satoru stops up short. "He never said anything about it to me. I didn't even know."

"Huh. Maybe he forgot."

"Maybe."

Chapter 13

Chapter Text

"Havin’ a good day?"

"Mhm," Suguru mumbles, licking the lemon yellow frosting off the spoon. It's more obscene than it should be. His eyes, wide and bright today, are too innocent. The fact that he's having these thoughts about someone so demure and virtuous makes Satoru feel depraved.

He has to look away before he really goes crazy. "That's good. What'd you do, besides bake cookies?"

"Finished one of my projects."

"Nice." Satoru hops up on the counter, swinging his legs back and forth. A few minutes ago he came home to his roommate singing Queen and mixing yellow food coloring in a bowl of frosting, wearing only a jumper and shorts despite the fact that it's almost winter and the apartment is freezing. The sight of his bare feet on the cold wood floor of the kitchen makes Satoru cringe in phantom coldness. "So I was talking to Shoko today, she said you have an art show on Friday?"

"Oh, yeah. Do you wanna come?"

Satoru eyes him warily. "Do you want me to?" He asks, feeling a little more insecure than he should. He knows they aren't exactly friends, but still. Why hadn't Suguru brought it up sooner?

"Yeah, I do. I mean, only if you want to."

"I get to see your art, right?"

"Right."

"And you'll be there?"

Suguru laughs a little, his smile so bright it's refreshing. He's in a good mood today. "Yeah, I will."

"Alright, then I'll go."

When Satoru looks at Suguru again, he catches him grinning at the floor.

Chapter 14

Chapter Text

Waking up to the sound of someone screaming and crying is disorienting, to say the least.

It's a bit frightening to think that Satoru is almost used to this. Almost expects it, in a way.

He crawls out of bed like he's been doing every few nights for the past couple of weeks. When he gets to Suguru's room, he turns on the bedside lamp and sits down on the mattress beside Suguru, who is curled up and sobbing into his knees, already awake.

It's easier when he's already awake, but worse in a way, because even though Satoru doesn't have to shake him to consciousness, he knows that when Suguru first opened his eyes, he was blindingly alone.

"You're okay, Suguru, it's okay. Shh... I've got you, love... It's okay, you're safe here," he whispers, holding Suguru in a comforting hug and rubbing gentle circles onto his back. Suguru's fingers tangle in the front of his t-shirt, clinging tightly as he buries his face in Satoru's chest, sobbing wildly.

Satoru lets him cry until he calms down, whispering encouraging platitudes until his sobs turn into sniffles. It takes a while, but Satoru is quite familiar with the process now, so he doesn't worry too much. Not like the night he first comforted Suguru, at least.

"Wanna do something fun, Sugu? Or do you wanna stay here?"

Since the time when they went roller skating, Suguru has had three nightmares. Two of the three times, they stayed in the apartment, watching movies on Suguru's laptop in his bed. The other time, they went out to Insomnia Cookies instead of ordering in and ate until they both felt like they were going to explode.

"I dunno," Suguru whispers into Satoru's shirt, still clutching it tightly between his fingers like he's afraid to let go. Satoru doesn't mind at all. As long as Suguru feels comforted, he'll let it happen. At this point, he's willing to do anything to calm him down. It's scary and reckless, how strongly he feels this way.

Satoru leans back, taking Suguru with him, to read the clock on the nightstand. It says 4:37 in bright green numbers. It's Friday, the morning of the art show in which some of Suguru's pieces, among pieces of his peers, will be shown off at the campus gallery. Satoru sighs, wishing Suguru could get some solid, uninterrupted sleep for once in his life. Today is a big day for him.

"Hmm," he hums quietly, setting his hand again on Suguru's back and lazily scratching his fingers back and forth, dragging his nails along the fabric of his t-shirt. "We could go for a walk? And take Clifford with us, maybe."

"Okay."

"Alright, kiddo," Satoru says, patting his back avuncularly. "Dress warm."

They meet at the front door a few minutes later, both dressed in sweats and their winter coats. November in New York is nice, but cold. Especially so early in the morning, before the sun has shown any signs of rising.

They take Clifford out and end up running with him for a little bit down the sidewalk. It feels nice, though, to have the wind rushing past them. They run for a few blocks through the city darkness until they get tired and slow to a more casual walking pace. Clifford pants happily beside them, oblivious to Suguru's turmoil.

"Mind if I smoke?" Satoru asks after a long while of silence. He's pretty sure he hasn't had a cigarette in front of Suguru yet, but he wonders if it's something that really bothers him.

"Go ahead," Suguru tells him, uncaring, but there's a flicker of emotion on his face that Satoru struggles to distinguish. It's gone before he can decide what it is, replaced with his typical guarded visage, like there's something he keeps locked away behind it all.

He lights it with his hand cupped around it to block the wind before slipping his lighter back into his pocket. Vices and all of that.

"It's always the same," Suguru says very quietly.

"Hm?"

"My dream. It's always the same."

"Oh." They stop walking, Clifford is smelling something invisible, or maybe even nonexistent, on the sidewalk. Satoru stands in a certain way so he isn't breathing smoke right in Suguru's face. "Wanna tell me about it?"

Suguru sighs. "It's just like. I dunno."

"It's okay," Satoru tells him, commencing walking again as the heavy wind blows right through his coat, chilling him to the bone. "You're okay, yeah?"

"Yeah. It's just like- You know that feeling when you're screaming and no sound comes out or- when you try to move but your body feels paralyzed?”

Satoru shudders, shivering partly from the cold and partly from the knowledge of what Suguru's talking about. "Yeah, I do. It's awful. So scary."

Suguru nods, swallowing thickly. "That's what it is."

"Your dream?"

"Yeah, part of it."

Satoru doesn't ask about the other part. Suguru doesn't tell him.

"Excited for your art show?" he asks once the sun is just peeking over the horizon, blocked from sight by all the buildings that surround them.

"Nervous."

"Why?"

"Too many people seeing my art."

"I get it," Satoru says, though he's not exactly sure if he does. "It's personal, right?"

Suguru nods. "Like an ugly part of me I don't want anyone to see."

Satoru laughs lightly, grabbing Suguru's hand and interlacing their fingers. His roommate doesn't react, which is better than flinching away he supposes. "I'm sure it's lovely, Sugu.”

No part of you is ugly, he doesn't say even though he wants to, even though he should.

They walk for a while longer, not really talking about anything important, but still talking. It's calming, and comfortable, and pleasant despite it all. Even if Satoru is exhausted, he'd rather be making sure Suguru is okay than leaving him alone to go back to sleep. It's a worthy sacrifice.

The sun has fully risen by the time they get back to the apartment. While Satoru heads back to bed, Suguru gets dressed and says he's going to the studio since he won't be able to sleep anyways. Satoru barely has time to wonder how Suguru functions on so little sleep, when he falls asleep himself.

Chapter 15

Chapter Text

That night, Satoru accompanies Suguru to the gallery early, before the crowd arrives.

Suguru had returned to the apartment to change his clothes into something more formal, swapping light-washed jeans for black ones and a matching black blouse instead of his oversized, colorful knit sweater. He had been wearing his glasses earlier while he was at the studio, but as always he took them off as he entered the apartment, like he didn't want Satoru to see him wearing them. It was a strange idiosyncrasy. An insecurity, perhaps.

Unlike his roommate, Satoru doesn't know what to wear, so he struggles for a while before following Suguru’s lead with black jeans and a burgundy jumper. He styles his hair, which is something he hasn't done in a long time, and by the time he's finished he's quite impressed with his appearance. Suguru is standing nervously at the door when Satoru joins him, finally ready to leave.

"Am I late?"

Suguru shakes his head distractedly, already opening the door. "No, sorry. I'm just nervous."

"Oh okay. It'll be fun, yeah? You'll finally get recognition for your work." He tries to sound reassuring but he isn't sure if it carries through with the tone of his voice. Suguru just smiles weakly at him and they walk through the city without saying much else.

The exhibit, as it turns out, is in a showroom on the artsier side of the city where everything is more upscale and way less grimy. It's on the third floor, actually, so they climb up the narrow staircase up to the second floor. When his eyes land on the sight before him, he feels a little breathless, seeing all the art hanging on the walls.

They're the first people to arrive. Suguru had the key to get in and he slips it back into his pocket after twisting the key nervously around its ring. The entire exhibit is dead silent aside from the quiet hum of the radiator in the background, surprisingly old for the modern-looking building.

The gallery itself has a minimalistic theme and singular, dark tones for the wall color. It's obvious that it's set up for a nighttime showing, with ambient lighting that spotlights the art without detracting from it, setting the middle of the room into a moody atmosphere. Satoru steps into the center of it all and looks around, impressed, yet not focusing on one singular piece.

Suguru comes up behind him, almost startling him except that Satoru finds his presence calming, reassuring. "This room is a conglomeration of everyone's work, but the smaller rooms are dedicated to the top artists in the program."

"Oh. Do you have your own room?"

"I do," he responds quietly, and when Satoru turns around to face him he looks shy and bashful.

"Wow, that's awesome! Congrats. Which room is it?"

"Uhhh..."

Satoru gives him his best reassuring smile. "You can tell me if you don't want me to see it. I promise I'll honour your decision and not look, if that's what you want. All you have to do is say the word."

"It's not- I'm just-" he stutters, smacking his hands over his face and keeping them there to cover his eyes and groan. "I don't know."

"Would you rather have me not look at your work until the event actually starts?"

"I um. Okay."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Yeah, that sounds okay."

"Alright. Shall we walk around and look at the other art, or..?"

Suguru nods, not meeting Satoru’s eyes, and Satoru loops his arm around Suguru’s to pull them together, side by side. He lets Suguru take the lead because he has no real idea where he's going, and while Suguru is hesitant at first he eventually guides Satoru into one of the smaller rooms where they walk clockwise, admiring the art hanging on the walls.

They move quietly, observing each piece with patience and attention. Satoru keeps their arms hooked together, pleased by the feeling of his roommate's warm body pressed against his own. He tries not to think about their proximity to each other and arduously attempts to remain focused on the art, but it's difficult because everything about Suguru is so distracting.

Drawings, paintings, photographs, sculptures... The gallery contains a multitude of art forms and they find themselves lost in it all. For a chemical engineering major, Satoru has never really ventured to the art side of campus, and has never been close with an art major, so he has never had the opportunity to attend an event like this. Now that he's here, he sees how amazing it is.

People begin to enter the gallery when Satoru and Suguru are only on the second room, but they don't pay them any mind. It isn't until the event actually begins that Suguru gently detaches himself from Satoru’s arm and pulls away apologetically.

"I should probably talk to some of my professors," he explains. A select group of professors are reviewing the art tonight and grading it for the final exam, though there's at least a month left of the semester. Suguru explains they have one last project before the end of the fall semester which will be about fifty percent of their final grade. The other half is based on the students' art in tonight's gallery.

Satoru nods understandingly, patting Suguru on the shoulder. "Go get 'em."

Suguru glides away towards one of his professors while Satoru heads to the last small room he hasn't yet visited: Suguru’s.

The walls are plum coloured but muted and dark; Satoru hardly notices. His eyes land on the first piece and he's immediately captivated by interest. It's a photograph matted on a white background with a simple frame.

The picture is of an antique white clawfoot bathtub full of pink, cloudy water with flower petals floating on the surface. Sunlight is streaming through an open window, sending beams of golden light to reflect on the surface of the water as dust particles sparkle slightly in the air.

There are a few more artful close-ups of some of the flower petals mixed with cloudy pink water, and some of the structure of the bathtub.

The fourth piece is striking. It's a photograph of the same bathtub but this time with Suguru in it. Satoru is shocked and actually leans in to get a closer look, making sure it's actually Suguru and not just someone who looks similar. But no, he recognizes the tattoos on the back of his arm. Suguru is sitting naked in the tub with his back to the camera, head bowed, in a position of innocence, submission, and vulnerability. Satoru stares at the water drops on his pale skin and wonders how he could be so beautiful.

He has to tear his eyes away for the sake of seeing the rest of Suguru’s work. He had never even considered Suguru to be into photography let alone self-portraits, but here Satoru is now looking at an entire room full of his photographical art.

The fifth piece is a change in media: a graphite sketch as opposed to a printed photograph. Satoru can recognize Suguru’s drawing style, just like the sketches of the girl sitting on the stool Suguru showed him that one night when they were sitting so closely on the couch. This drawing is much more intricate and polished but it still has Suguru’s distinctive style, the way he moves the pencil over the paper, the specific lines he draws and exactly how he draws them. It's a blooming flower, only pencil and paper and no color, but even then it is clearly blossoming and at the height of its opulence.

The next five pieces are similar, although it's obvious the photographs have been taken at a greater time interval, probably an hour or so after the bath was first drawn. The sunlight is dwindling, the ambience dimmer, and the flower petals are beginning to wilt, some of them already sinking below the pink water. The tenth piece is another drawing of the same flower but more wilted, the edges of the petals curling slightly, the lines heavier and darker.

And then there's Suguru. One picture of him in this series of five, no longer in the tub but lying on a bed. White sheets cover him from the waist down, but Satoru isn't paying much attention to the racy show of skin because he's more focused on something else. The bruises, of course.

Not on his face like before, but something different. Hickeys on his neck and bruises in the shape of fingertips on his hips. Raised red lines, scratches from nails, covering his stomach, too harsh to be sexual. Beautiful and horrible all at the same time.

Suguru’s eyes are closed and he looks peaceful. The sunlight is duller now, tinged sightly pink, and Satoru can only assume it's just the beginning of sunset in the picture. His hair is dark, as if he just dried off from the bath and slipped into bed. Satoru’s eyes follow the lines of his neck to his distinct collarbones, down past his strong chest to his ribcage and then the butterfly on his soft tummy, and the laurels beside his navel. The outline of his body, his soft curves and the slight pudge of his hips.

It's intimate. Too intimate, in fact, but Satoru guesses that's the point. He feels as though he's intruding on a private moment no one is meant to see. It's personal and intrusive and worrying. He understands why Suguru was so shy about sharing his art in the first place.

Satoru moves on, following the flow of the room and observing each piece with care. With each step he takes, the flowers wilt more and more. By the time he gets to the next picture of Suguru, still lying in bed but this time curled up with his arms wrapped around himself. He has different bruises in different places and this time they're worse. Darker, heavier, more prominent. Covering his ribcage and the visible side of his back, love bites mixed in with it all. There's a pale purple shadow on his jawline like it was hit but not hard enough to fully blossom into an indigo bruise.

He's almost to the end. The flowers are wilted and the sun is setting more and more in each photo, dipping closer and closer to the horizon. The bruises are getting worse and worse, darker and more severe. There's blood. A split lip and cuts on his rib cage and the rust color of dried blood from the scratches on his stomach which are deeper now.

The petals are falling. The pretty orchids are decaying, completely wilted. The sun is nearly gone.

He's at the end. The last picture before it's just a solid plum-colored wall, shadowed by the spotlights on the art pieces.

It's a photograph of Suguru tangled in the sheets, zoomed out now so his whole body is visible from his long hair framing his face to his bare feet, toes curled slightly. His long legs up to his hips, bruises on his thighs like someone hit him hard with a baseball bat, swinging and hitting, making him hurt.

Above the waist it's all bruises, some new and some old but no skin is left unblemished. The indigo and violet blends into the black ink of his tattoos. His split lip is no longer bleeding but rusty blood is smeared on his deeply bruised jaw. His hair is tangled and sticky, wet with sweat or bath water or whatever it is. His eyes are closed but this time he doesn't look as though he's asleep. He looks as though he is dead.

Satoru has to tear himself away from the last photograph, refusing to believe it's the end. He squeezes his eyes shut and turns away, feeling sick to his stomach, enough to actually puke.

He doesn't know what to make of any of it. He has been in this room for nearly an hour and people are standing around the room chatting amiably with each other, analyzing Suguru’s art. No one is shocked. No one is frightened. No one except Satoru.

They all think the bruises and the blood is fake, like stage makeup or photo editing, or even a mix of both. But Satoru... Satoru remembers the nights Suguru came home, crying, covering his face. Hiding the bruises. He has witnessed the following days when Suguru has dressed in comfortable clothes and said he was going to the studio. Satoru understands now that Suguru was going to the studio to take self-portraits. To lie naked on a mattress and capture the mix of indigo and lavender blending like a homemade art project, right on his skin. To photograph his abuse and call it art.

He turns around, away from the photographs that leave this heavy feeling deep in his stomach. Worry and fear. He walks quickly out of the room, desperate to get away. Desperate to find Suguru.

He's in the main room, standing beside one of his own drawings of an array of flowers, like the ones Satoru has already seen but on a larger scale. Suguru’s smiling tightly, speaking with one of his professors in a cordial tone. Satoru will have to wait.

He wanders around and tries to enjoy the other art but he can't focus on any of it. Eventually he just decides to escape to the bathroom for a moment to recollect himself. His mind is spinning and he has no idea what to do.

Satoru runs through what he knows, the facts he has been turning over in his head for many days now. He thinks about them so often, he nearly has a checklist in his mind.

Someone is hurting Suguru. His ex-boyfriend. Suguru keeps going back to him despite it all, on weekend nights when he dresses in his tightest jeans and something lace beneath. And then he comes back hours later, beaten up and crying, bruises and scratches everywhere.

Is this abuse the cause of his nightmares or is it something else entirely? Obviously this isn't all there is in terms of trauma, but it certainly can't help. So why does he keep going back?

At the end of the showing, only the artists and professors remain, among a few invited friends. Satoru has been hanging around Shoko a lot ever since he finished walking Suguru’s room, but he hasn't been saying much because he still feels so worried and upset. Shoko, who has been his good friend for years, notices something is wrong but doesn't say anything about it, for which Satoru is grateful.

The general consensus is to go out for drinks, even though Satoru really would rather go home to curl up in bed and maybe cry a little bit, or a lot. But if Suguru is going out, that means Satoru is too, because tonight he has decided once and for all to never leave him alone. He has to make sure Suguru doesn't get hurt again.

Someone has to watch out for him.

He really wants to talk to Suguru, but there isn't any time. Especially when they get to the bar and Suguru disappears almost immediately. Satoru is worried and concerned but he has no idea what to do. He isn't in the mood to drink, especially when he already feels sick, but he orders a drink and sips it so no one will question him.

It's insanely crowded but they manage to get a small table near the back where they all have to squeeze together to fit in the booth. Satoru laughs at his friends' jokes and pretends to keep up with the conversation but mostly his mind is elsewhere. He's sitting so he can see the whole bar without even turning his head, and he can't help it when he finds himself constantly searching for Suguru.

It's half an hour later when he sees him, though, and by then Satoru is worried and cranky and just wants to go home but not without Suguru. But then he looks up and he sees Suguru leaning against the bar, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear and looking up into the eyes of the man standing very close to him.

The uncomfortable, sickening feeling in Satoru’s stomach swells and he isn't clueless or ignorant enough to know it isn’t jealousy. But the fact that he's jealous is worrisome in itself because there's no reason for Satoru to be jealous of his roommate talking to another person at a bar and maybe standing a little too close and fluttering his eyelashes a little too much, but the point remains.

Satoru sighs and drinks the last of his beer, his hand tightening around the glass without meaning to. He can't take his eyes away even though he wants to, so desperately, because it hurts in a stupid way. It hurts in a way it shouldn't hurt. Satoru has no right to feel this way.

The man Suguru is talking to is tall and chillingly handsome, he’s buff and has a scar on his lip. His attractiveness is the kind that's more intimidating than appealing, the kind that says he could get anything he wants and he doesn't even have to ask. He looks professional and well-off and uptight, and exudes this dark sort of power that feels vaguely threatening.

Satoru is unimpressed. Suguru is captivated.

It's difficult to tell from this angle but it looks like Suguru has a shy smile on his face as he tucks his chin down, coyly shifting from side to side. The man leans down to whisper something in Suguru’s ear, cupping the back of his neck with the palm of his hand in a gesture so possessive it's almost authoritarian. When he pulls back, Suguru laughs and peels himself away from the bar, heading towards the door. The man walks beside him with his palm resting barely above Suguru’s ass. His hand slides down to grope at him as they walk further away and Satoru stupidly, unwarrantedly sees red.

"What are you looking at, Gojo?”

"Is that him?" he asks, pointing towards where they're nearly to the door.

Shoko follows his line of sight and her eyes land on the two of them exiting the bar. She doesn't say anything except, "Oh."

As soon as they're out of sight, Satoru sets his drink down and stands up abruptly.

"Where are you going?" Shoko asks, baffled.

"Home. I'm exhausted."

"Satoru..."

"That's him, right? That's his ex?"

“Sat-“

"It's fine. I'm fine." He knows he's acting irrationally and probably sounds crazy but he just can't help it. He needs to know. So he asks, "What's his name?"

“Satoru-“

Satoru turns to Utahime. "What's his name, Utahime?”

Utahime observes Satoru for a moment, fiddling cooly with the neck of her beer. Utahime is perceptive and always gives Satoru the feeling she knows more than she lets on. “Toji Fushiguro.”

Satoru nods. "And he- He," he can't even get the words out.

He hurts Suguru.

"You know what? Nevermind." With that, Satoru gathers his belongings and leaves without saying anything else. It's rude but he doesn't have the heart to care right now. The person Satoru has been comforting for weeks, holding him as he cries and waking him from nightmares and walking on eggshells, has just left the bar with the very person who makes him cry, the very person who gives him nightmares. The very person who hurts him.

He walks home alone, through the city that never sleeps. It's more dangerous for him to be alone so he walks quickly, keys between his fingers, ready to run if he needs to. Luckily, he makes it home safely. But his mind is elsewhere.

His mind is with Suguru. Suguru who is probably kissing or being kissed, right at this very moment. Suguru who is probably flirting and giggling and being let into his ex's apartment. Suguru who is probably accepting a glass of wine and letting himself be wooed. Suguru who is probably pulling off his clothes and slipping into a bed that isn't his own...

And then what happens? What comes after they f*ck? Does Toji hit him afterwards or does it happen while they're going at it... Does he slap his face and sink his teeth into his throat and do every gruesome thing he does to leave marks and bruises all over Suguru’s skin... Does he make it hurt on purpose, because he wants it to, because he's sad*stic and he enjoys the power of it all, the way he has Suguru wrapped around his finger, Suguru who would beg for it at the slightest inclination...

Satoru bites his cheek so hard he tastes blood. Anything to get him to stop thinking about it. There's nothing he can do right now, but he just knows Suguru is going to come home early in the morning, hurt and upset. He does his best to push it from his mind.

Showering usually makes Satoru feel better but tonight it does nothing to quell the anxious feeling beneath his skin. He dries off and then slips into bed naked after making a cup of tea. The raspberry pomegranate tea doesn't make him feel any better either. He drinks half of it and then gives up, turning off the light to encase the room in darkness.

Satoru is still awake hours later when Suguru comes stumbling into the apartment, crying. But this time, Satoru doesn't get out of bed.

Chapter 16

Chapter Text

Guilt creeps up on him. In the morning, he feels like the worst person on earth.

He wakes up early and the apartment is quiet. The door to Suguru’s room is closed and he hears no sound behind it when he passes, although he doesn't really expect to hear anything. Blithely, he hopes he's asleep.

But then it's ten minutes later and Satoru is sitting at the kitchen table feeling momentous amounts of guilt for not checking up on Suguru last night. Then he gets this strangely intrusive thought that maybe Suguru really isn't okay right now and that's why his room is so quiet. Maybe he's hurt, and badly, and it would be all Satoru’s fault for not checking to see if he was okay.

So he goes to Suguru’s door and stands there for a long while, wondering what to do and fearing what he'll see if he goes inside. Eventually he sucks it up and knocks very gently on the door.

There's no response. Satoru is worried but hoping Suguru’s sleeping. He twists the handle open, pushes the door forward, and peers inside.

He's lying on the bed, eyes open and trained on the ceiling. Unmoving. For an awful moment Satoru thinks he's dead.

“Suguru?”

He flinches at the sound of Satoru’s voice but doesn't look away from the ceiling. Satoru is relieved he isn't dead but overcome with a new sense of worry as he takes in the new damage covering Suguru’s face, neck, and arms. The rest of his skin is hidden by his t-shirt or the blankets but it can be assumed he's just as beaten up everywhere else.

"Is it alright if I come in?"

Suguru still doesn't say anything but he finally looks in Satoru’s direction and nods.

Satoru crosses the room and sits down beside him on the mattress. Suguru keeps staring in the ceiling and Satoru looks up to see if there's anything there, but all he sees is blank white. He wants to ask,

What are you looking at? What do you see? Yet he's afraid of the answer he might receive.

"Care to tell me what happened?" Is the question that comes out instead. Satoru plays with the corner of the sheets and doesn't even try to meet Suguru’s eyes. It's early morning, and the sun is up but hidden by the clouds. The room is darker than usual, illuminated by cold silvery light.

Suguru doesn't say anything. Satoru doesn't expect him to. He grabs at Suguru’s hand and gently holds it in his own, enjoying the heavy weight and pleasant warmth. His long fingers are still and unmoving in Satoru’s grasp, but they twitch when Satoru softly strokes his the back of his palm with his thumb.

"So you saw him last night," Satoru says, pushing forward because he knows Suguru isn't going to talk on his own. He swallows thickly before saying his name. “Toji. Right?"

Suguru flinches again at the sound of the name falling from Satoru’s lips, but remains silent.

"Why did you go back to him?"

No response.

"He hurts you," Satoru says.

"He loves me." Quiet, like an excuse. He loves me. Like a secret.

He doesn't love you, Satoru doesn't say. That's not love. That's not what love is.

"But he did this to you." Satoru points at Suguru with his free hand. He wants to run his fingers down his skin, wants to trace the damage until it fades to nothing. It's so... It's agonizing, seeing him so downtrodden and broken. "Why do you... Why do you let him do this to you?"

Suguru is more pliant and obedient this morning than he is on any other, his body language and demeanour more relaxed than it has ever been, as if the walls he has built up over the years are perhaps more diaphanous today. It must be the pain of it all. The exhaustion. He seems more willing today than any other, more open. Like Satoru could poke and prod inside of him to find out what's wrong if he tries hard enough.

"Why do I sleep with him, you mean?"

Satoru bites his lip, nodding. Suguru pulls his hand back to his chest, tugging the blankets up higher to cover himself. He glares at the wall, pointedly not looking in Satoru’s direction, but the willingness is still there, like there's this tiny part of him that's glad that he asked, that someone cares enough to push him to open up just enough to spill his secrets.

"You really want to know?" His voice is quiet, but there's a caustic and biting underlacing to his tone, something dark and cynical. Demoralized.

"Yeah, Sugu. I do."

There's a pause where Suguru breathes in deeply, obviously jaded, exhausted. When he spills out the truth, as if they're too honest and intimate for a morning conversation, the words hang heavy in the air.

"I'm only sleeping with him because I'm afraid if I say no he won't love me anymore."

Satoru doesn't know what he was expecting but it wasn't that. He doesn't know what to say, so he just nods in acknowledgement, hardly pretending to understand. Why would Suguru want the person that hurts him to love him? There's something wrong there. Something dark and something messed up.

There's something pathetic about it too, something pitiful about letting someone f*ck you because you're afraid they're going to leave you. Trading sex for love but only because you're afraid of the austere alternative... afraid of the ugly unwantedness that hangs onto your skin forever.

"Did you get any sleep last night?" He asks instead, changing the subject slightly. It's safer here, back to surface-level questions that aren't too intrusive, with answers that aren't too telling.

It's obvious Suguru’s lying when his gaze shifts to the side again and he responds, "A little."

"Are you going to try to sleep now?"

"I'm fine."

"I'm going to get you some ice for your-"

Bruises, he doesn't say. There's an uncomfortable pause, void of everything but silence. "And some Advil. And some extra blankets. Do you want anything else?"

Suguru laughs a little like he can't believe Satoru is doting over him. "You don't have to do that. I'm not going to be able to sleep, anyway. It's fine."

"Why not? What else are you going to do? You're not seriously thinking of going out when you're so beat up, are you?"

"I'm fine, Toru. I promise."

The nickname again, this time used more as a form of placation than anything. Its utilization and specific placement might even be purposeful. Satoru shakes his head, finally giving in to that protective instinct that has been gnawing away at him ever since Suguru first showed up in his apartment. "Will you please stay here today and try to get some sleep? And let me take care of you?"

Suguru looks like he wants to argue, but he doesn't. Instead he just shrugs as best as he can since he's lying down, and looks away. Satoru sighs and heads out of the room, towards the kitchen.

He fills a bag of ice and wraps it in a towel before going to the cupboard for Advil. The bottle is almost empty; he needs to go to the store for more. He's been meaning to go to the store anyways, to pick up some flour because Suguru has been baking a lot lately, and some batteries because the TV remote stopped working.

Satoru heads back to Suguru’s room with all the things he said he'd bring. Suguru sits up in bed and downs a few pills, drinking about half the water bottle. When he's finished, Satoru eases him back down and contemplates for a while before deciding the ice would be best for the bruises on his stomach.

"All good?"

"Yeah. Thanks."

"No problem. Just tell me if you need anything, yeah?"

Suguru nods but Satoru can tell there's no way in hell he'd ever ask Satoru to do something for him. Satoru sighs, sparing Suguru one last lookover to make sure he's okay before retreating back to his own room to get some work done. Exams are coming up within the next few weeks and his classes this semester are daunting.

Around lunchtime, he goes to check up on his roommate again and finds him curled up in bed staring at the wall, not moving except for the slow, deep breaths which cause his chest to rise and fall. It's a peaceful position but Satoru knows Suguru is anything but peaceful right now. Considering everything that has been happening lately, he can only guess what's going on in his mind.

Since it's the polite thing to do and he doesn't want to barge in unannounced, he raps his knuckles on the door frame before leaning on it. Suguru looks up, startled but only slightly.

"Hey. I'm making lunch. Want anything?"

"No thanks."

Satoru frowns at him for a long, calculating moment. He's certain Suguru hasn't eaten breakfast either. With a sigh that does not signify defeat, he turns on his heel to the kitchen. Only fifteen minutes later does he return to Suguru’s bedroom, this time with a satisfied stomach and a plate in his hands.

"I made you tea and a bagel anyway," he says without preempt, coming up beside Suguru and handing him the tray.

Suguru takes it with tentative hands, uncertain. Satoru sets the mug of tea on the floor in a place where it won't be bumped into, sitting beside him on the low mattress.

"You didn't have to do this..."

Satoru shrugs. The I wanted to goes unsaid.

Chapter 17

Chapter Text

It's 6:30 PM that same Saturday when Satoru finds himself standing in the baby aisle of the nearest CVS.

He doesn't know how he got into this exact situation, really. He supposes it has to do with the fact that he has been needing to go to the store to pick up various necessities and it's about time he acts like an adult and goes out and does what he needs to do.

So he has a basket containing a bottle of painkillers, a bag of flour, and many boxes of Kraft macaroni and cheese, among other items from the grocery list he and Suguru keep on the refrigerator. The handle is balanced in the crook of his elbow as the basket hangs by his hip. He's stranded in the baby aisle and contemplating something crazy.

He had been heading for the checkout, just passing through, when a very specific something caught his eye. Walking past it at first and then turning around and backtracking, Satoru finds himself staring at the multiple shelves of assorted stuffed animals. His eyes are on the one in the centre—the incredibly soft-looking bunny rabbit with floppy ears and silky pink fur.

And he's- He's thinking about Suguru.

The way he curls up when he's afraid, always clinging to something in his arms, perhaps a pillow or the edge of the blanket. He's thinking about the nightmares, and about the comfort of holding something, of having a softness in your arms. He's thinking about all the times he has wanted so desperately, so badly, to just engulf Suguru in his arms and hold him close, to comfort him yes, but also as a form of comfort for himself. So he finds himself standing in front of a shelf full of stuffed animals, wondering if he has gone crazy, because he's seriously considering buying a fluffy pink bunny for his traumatized roommate.

He knows he has really lost it when he finds himself, a little while later, paying twenty dollars for a goddamn stuffed rabbit.

Chapter 18

Chapter Text

"Hey, kiddo," Satoru greets as soon as he's through the door, eyeing Suguru on the couch. He's wearing plaid pajama pants and an oversized t-shirt, the printed words on the front nearly rubbed off completely from overwear. His knees are pulled to his chest, arms around his legs, bare feet on the edge of the couch cushion. Clifford is snuggled happily to his side. They're watching a cooking show on TV, maybe Chopped. "Alright?"

"Yeah, good," Suguru answers, looking the opposite of alright despite his affirmative answer. He's completely downtrodden, his eyes tired. Hands shaking. He looks cold.

Satoru grabs the blanket from the armchair and tosses it over to Suguru, not relaxing until he bundles up in it, though the shivering still doesn't stop.

"You like mac and cheese, right?"

"You don't have to-"

"You always cook for me," Satoru interrupts, pointing out the inarguable truth. They've been eating a lot of meals together lately since Satoru never really leaves the apartment anymore except for his classes and Suguru doesn't seem so inclined to go out either. "Let me do it for once, yeah?"

Suguru sighs and doesn't meet him eyes. His hands are still shaking on top of the blanket. Satoru wants to hold them in his own until they stop trembling. "Okay."

He heads to the kitchen and sets the plastic bags down on the countertop. When he grabs the boxes of mac and cheese, the pink head of the bunny peaks out of the bag and Satoru immediately blushes at his own stupidity. What was he thinking? How is he supposed to give that to Suguru? He's so embarrassed, he nearly chucks it away in the trash or maybe even out the window. He sighs as he gets a pot of water on the stove, thinking maybe he'll just give it to one of his cousins when he finally visits them again.

With two bowls, two wine glasses, and a bottle of red cradled to his chest by his hands, balancing precariously, Satoru reenters the living room. Suguru immediately rushes to help him, scolding him for carrying so much without asking Suguru to help.

"It's fine, it's fine."

They sit down beside each other and dig into their bowls after Suguru pours them each a sufficient glass of wine.

"Hey Suguru?”

"Yeah?"

"Can I, um. Can I ask you something?"

There's a long, uncomfortable pause where Suguru stares down into his bowl of mac and cheese and Satoru can practically hear his heart beating anxiously from here. "Ehm... Yeah, of course."

He doesn't know how to ask. He doesn't even really know what to ask, either. There's just so much and none of it makes sense. So he just comes out and says the first question his mind offers:

"How long have you had nightmares?"

If Suguru looked uncomfortable before, there isn't a word to describe the magnitude of his discomfort right now, as soon as the words leave Satoru’s mouth, floating through the air and processing in his mind. But he refuses to take them back.

"Ehm..."

Satoru discards his bowl on the table even though he didn't eat all of his dinner, really. He turns on his side and brings his long legs up on the couch, curled so he's facing Suguru. Hoping to convey a casual and relaxed demeanor, he tips his head to the side and rests it on the back of the couch, softening his face into a less intense expression. "Months?" He asks. "Or longer?"

"I've had them since- Since I was a kid."

Oh. Satoru gnaws on his thumb nervously at that. A big part of him had been hoping Suguru’s nightmares were a recent occurrence, a byproduct of his unhealthy relationship. It had been a possibility, but if he's been having nightmares since childhood...

"Have you ever talked to anyone about them?"

"Like- Therapy?"

"Maybe. Yeah. Or just, anyone."

"No."

"Oh. Okay. Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not particularly."

Satoru bites his thumb some more, nervously. "You sure? I'm all ears."

"No- I don't- I wouldn't even know what to tell you."

He isn't a therapist or a psychology major or anything of the like, so he has no idea where to start. He tries to replicate what he's seen on TV, but it's harder than they make it seem. "Do you remember when you first started having them?"

Suguru looks like he doesn't want to go along with Satoru’s questionable questioning but he goes with it anyways. "I... I was really young. I've been having them for as long as I can remember."

The thought of a smaller version of Suguru, cute and childlike in his innocence and stature, probably only three or four years old, not being able to sleep because he has nightmares that frighten him... The thought of that, so dark and horrible, shakes something deep in Satoru’s core.

"And you really never told anyone?"

"No one who would listen," Suguru affirms quietly.

That gross, ugly feeling churns again. Satoru shifts forward, wishing he had more wine but the bottle is so far away. "Well, I'm listening. So tell me, if you want. If you- If you think it might help."

Suguru sighs, not making eye contact. Satoru can deal with that. Suguru is being incredibly open right now, and of course it's difficult for him, of course it's a challenge. It may not seem like much but Satoru knows it is and he'll give Suguru all the credit he deserves. He's brave for doing this, for speaking up, even if it's to his college roommate who makes him mac and cheese and buys him stuffed animals from the drugstore a few blocks away.

"I know it won't."

"But it might feel better if you tell someone. If you tell me."

So we can share it, so we can share the pain. The evil.

"I already told you."

"You did?"

"About the screaming... Not being heard. Being invisible..."

Satoru hums contemplatively. "You're not invisible."

And the thing is, he's not. Suguru’s not invisible. He's... radiant. Brilliant. Gorgeous, inside and out. His presence is captivating in the best of ways, and Satoru often has to tear his eyes away after he realizes he has been staring. There's something about Suguru that's so addictive, so sweet and alluring... He's the opposite of invisible.

Suguru smiles sadly. "In my dreams I am. But I- I didn't tell you about the fire."

"Fire?"

He nods but doesn't elaborate. Satoru imagines buildings burning and a tiny Suguru running from the flames exploding behind him and proliferating, metastasizing like cancer cells in a host body. Suguru escaping the destruction, escaping the devastation and the burning scent of skin on fire, the odour of death.

Suguru, alone.

"Is that..." He doesn't know how to approach it tactfully, so he disregards tact altogether. "Your parents?"

Suguru’s eyes darken, his gaze hardening. "No."

"I don't understand."

"Embers, and... smoke. Like cigarette smoke."

"Oh." Sometimes Satoru’s friends complain he reeks of smoke, even though he's careful to never smoke in the house or the car. He wonders if it bothers Suguru, if it triggers painful memories from his past.

But the smile is back, weak and a bit loopy. It isn't enough to ease Satoru’s anxieties. "Don't worry, I like the smell."

Satoru’s brows furrow, his mind running a mile a minute. "You do? Why?"

Suguru looks away again. "Reminds me of home."

It startles Satoru when he realizes he doesn't know where Suguru is from. It illuminates the truth that he hardly knows anything about him at all... and yet. And yet he already feels so strongly about him, already would protect him with everything he has because Suguru is just so vulnerable, so broken, and Satoru wants to fix him. Satoru needs to fix him.

His voice is soft, quiet. Careful. "Where is home?"

The gentle smile curving his lips, indicative of fond memories arising. "Illinois."

"Corn fields?" Satoru teases carefully. He hadn't known Suguru was from Illinois but now he can imagine him there. A strange child from the Midwest, with pale skin, dark hair, and big eyes. Running down country roads, going to school with a class of only fifty students at most; the epitome of small-town America. Spending his summer nights stargazing, reaching out to touch the sky, wondering if there's anything out there reaching back...

The smile is bigger. Almost a grin but not quite. "Yeah, corn fields. Nothing else. Nothing for miles. You could scream and no one would ever hear..."

Satoru shudders. As if you aren't even screaming. As if you're invisible.

"And fire?"

With one hand daintily holding his empty wine glass, Suguru lets his other hand fall to his thigh and rest there. He digs his finger-tips into his own skin through the fabric of his plaid pajama pants, pressing hard. "Cigarettes," he says.

Satoru is so confused but he doesn't know how to get to what he wants to know. Instead, he watches Suguru’s fingers and asks, "Do you smoke?"

"Only on special occasions."

"Like when?"

"Anniversaries."

Satoru raises his brows. Getting Suguru to open up is like pulling teeth. Each answer he gives is only more enigmatic and mysterious. "What kind of anniversaries?"

Suguru shakes his head. "Not tonight."

He means, I'll maybe tell you someday, but not today. Satoru voices his thoughts for confirmation. "Will you tell me sometime, then?"

"Maybe." It sounds like a lie.

Satoru has done enough pressing tonight. Unfortunately, he's more confused now. Obviously trauma is complicated, but the complexity in this case is overwhelming, especially when the knowledge Suguru has shared with him is hardly even the tip of the iceberg.

It's always worse than it seems, he thinks dully.

"Okay." And then, for the sake of changing the subject, he blurts out, "I bought you something."

A pause. Then, "What?"

Satoru nods, swallowing heavily. He catches Suguru’s eyes on his throat, watching his adam's apple bobbing. He blusters forward, no going back now. "At CVS. They had- Well, you'll see."

He has to stand up from the couch to retrieve the gift from the kitchen. On the way there, he realizes his palms are sweaty with nerves. He wipes them on his thighs and pulls the rabbit out of the bag, wondering how the hell he ever got into this situation to begin with, and why he didn't drink enough wine to deal with it. Also, why did he have to give in to the stupid voice inside his head yelling at him to buy everything soft and pink for Suguru?

Suguru is perched on the couch when he returns, sitting up straight with his feet on the floor in front of him and his hands moved from his thighs to his knees, eyes curious and a little nervous too. His voice is hopeful when he asks, "Is it cold noodles?"

Satoru laughs a little, worrying he might sound slightly manic. The stuffed animal is clutched behind his back, squeezed between clenched hands. "No, but it's good to know you like noodles."

“Cold noodles," Suguru smiles. "Zaru Soba."

"Ha-ha get it? Zaru Soburu?"

He frowns, pursing his lips, but Satoru can tell he's holding back a fond smile. "You would've scolded me if I made that joke."

Satoru wants to argue but he would be lying anyways so he just shakes his head and pulls the stuffed animal from behind his back, shoving it towards Suguru.

His eyes widen. "What's this?"

"I dunno, it made me think of you?"

There's a heavy beat of even heavier silence. Then, "Umm-"

"I know it's weird," Satoru rushes, feeling slightly sick and sicker even when he realizes he's so nervous for no good reason. The thing is, he's never like this. What the hell happened? He used to be calm, collected, and confident.

Now all of that's out the window, completely gone. He's a stuttering mess and he feels like a child again. "I just thought, like, with your nightmares and everything it might be nice to have?"

"Oh."

Satoru laughs a little, wondering if he should give up now and play it off as a joke, like oh, ha-ha, I saw this pink stuffed bunny and thought it was so funny and stupid, so I spent twenty dollars on it for no other reason than to give it to you as a prank so we could laugh at how ridiculous it would be for me to actually seriously buy you a stuffed bunny as a real gift.

But then Suguru is smiling softly. He takes the stuffed animal in his hands, pulling it away from Satoru, and tugs it to his chest. He holds it close, resting his cheek on one of its long ears. "I love it," he whispers into the pale pink, silky fur. "Thank you."

The irrational worry in his heart ebbs, fading to the background, everything else turning warm. He's relieved, now. Happy, even, to see Suguru smiling softly again.

"It's not weird," he says. "It's lovely. It's just what I needed."

Sometimes Satoru needs to be reassured, just like Suguru does. It's different but the same, in a way. He collapses down on the couch, feeling exhausted all of a sudden. "Okay, good."

Suguru scooches closer to him. The lighting in the living room isn't the best, but it looks beautiful on him like this, illuminating the planes of his face, casting shadows over the bruises.

Satoru wants to tell him but he thinks that's something he shouldn't say to his roommate, something he should probably just press behind his lips and keep to himself.

"Do you wanna- Are you cold?"

Satoru shrugs, but the movement is interrupted by Suguru sliding next to him anyways, not waiting for an answer, and wrapping his arm around his shoulder. He squeezes him in a cute, warm side-hug and doesn't remove his arm when he's finished. His head rests on Satoru’s shoulder and cradles the bunny to his chest with his free arm.

"What're you doing?"

"Keeping you warm," Suguru answers easily. He's surprisingly good at this whole physical contact thing, especially for someone so shy. Satoru supposes the fact that they've made a habit of pseudo cuddling on the couch at night is a probable reason why Suguru is so comfortable doing this right now. "You're often quite cold, did you know that?"

Satoru rolls his eyes, tucking his cold hands into the side of Suguru’s t-shirt. "And you're often quite warm, did you know that? Like a human furnace." He was shivering earlier, of course, but Satoru thinks that has less to do with the temperature and more to do with the trauma.

Suguru laughs, and the sound is warm like his skin, like his personality too. Beneath the shyness and timidity, there's this shining person. Satoru wants to be around that shining person all the time. He knows it isn't possible so he's willing to have Suguru like this, to see glimpses of who he really is beneath the reticence.

He sees it sometimes, when they're on their late night escapades. Despite the nightmares and the bruises and the tears and the exhaustion, there's still something carefree about Suguru. Something warm and sweet and pure.

"We fit together, then."

Satoru smiles, snuggling into Suguru’s side and trying not to overthink anything. A bit of the hesitance and worry melts away when Suguru starts stroking his arm. He calms at the soothing touch. "Yeah, I guess we do."

They watch the next few episodes in relative silence, not talking about anything even though they have so, so many possible topics they need to discuss, so many conflicts to work out. Satoru falls asleep tucked beneath Suguru’s arm before it's even nine o'clock.

Chapter 19

Chapter Text

He wakes up stifling hot with a crick in his neck but somehow still so comfortable he doesn't want to move.

“Toru,” someone is whispering in his ear, humid breath tickling his skin. “Toru, c'mon, let's get you to bed."

"Mmm," Satoru hums, keeping his eyes closed tightly to avoid looking into the lights. It's just the lamp and the TV but after waking up everything is uncomfortably bright. Blurry and full of brilliant color.

He feels more than hears Suguru sigh; he assumes he's lying on his chest, with the way he's been rising and falling rhythmically to a breathing pattern. In a way it feels as though he's being rocked by the waves of the ocean. He enjoys it maybe a little too much.

"Alright, up you go," Suguru whispers, standing up and somehow lifting Satoru’s tall body with him. Satoru is awake but not lucid enough to protest when he feels the ground sweeped out from beneath his feet. The swaying movement of the waves increases as he's rocked back and forth, the sound of footsteps and breathing the only resonance his mind interprets.

Deposited on something soft that he barely registers as his own bed, Satoru cracks his eyes open to see Suguru hovering over him. He looks sleepy and rumpled, but divine all the same.

The thing about Suguru is that he has this strange complexity to him that would be confusing if attached to anyone but him. He's shy and fearful but not afraid to hug Satoru for hours. He has nightmares that leave him screaming and crying but somehow he sometimes is the one to comfort Satoru instead of the reverse. He happily cuddles with a pink stuffed animal meant for toddlers but then lifts Satoru’s entirety with ease and carries him to bed, taking care of him.

The scariest part of it all is that Satoru actually understands.

People aren't cut and dry... nothing is only ever black or white. Nuances exist, adding complexity. Personality is intricate and sometimes convoluted. A singular person's character can contain hundreds of facets, and there's nothing to say some of them won't be contradictory, though the whole typically makes sense.

Suguru is the perfect example, Satoru is sure of it. He may be confused about who Suguru really is right now, but that's because he doesn't have all of the facts and thus doesn't understand his reasons for doing what he does, his motivations.

Satoru isn't stupid, careless, or ignorant enough to ignore the damage or even to pretend it isn't there. He's beginning to understand the extent of it, even if he doesn't know the cause.

Suguru pulls the blankets up to his chin, tucking him in carefully.

"Thanks," Satoru mumbles, snuggling closer to the nest of blankets and closing his eyes. That's all he remembers before he's asleep again.

He's certain he dreams the press of warm lips against his forehead.

Chapter 20

Chapter Text

The following morning is tranquil, full of comfortable silence and warm sunshine glistening in through the windows.

Suguru works on art in his room, painting a canvas this time, but his door is open which is out of the norm and Satoru takes it as a sign that he's slowly opening up, which is progress. He's very focused on his work, sitting on the floor beside the window with the canvas propped up in front of him. His hands are decorated in paint, getting all over the sheets covering the floor, dripping onto his pajamas too, but he doesn't seem to mind. When Satoru passes by the room on his way to make a cup of tea, he catches a glimpse of Suguru brushing his side bangs away from his eyes, smearing a streak of blue on his cheek.

As he passes by the open doorway, endeared by the blue staining his skin after brushing that lock of hair away, face distorted in a look of peaceful concentration, Satoru hears him humming.

It's miles different from the day he came home early and heard Suguru full out singing, his voice chilling and deeply beautiful, crooning dark lyrics with meaning. Today he's humming, happy and concentrated on his art, and it's beautiful in a lighter way. It makes Satoru smile.

So he doesn't disturb him, for fear that the humming will stop. Instead, he makes himself a cup of tea and sits by the window in the kitchen with Clifford curled at his feet. He gets some work done, reorganizing his notes and revising. He has an exam tomorrow but he feels pretty confident that he'll do well; he knows the content and even enjoys the class.

Around eleven o'clock, Suguru emerges from his room dressed in joggers and a jumper, in the process of pulling on his worn jean jacket with all the colorful pins adorning it. The paint has been washed from his face and his cheeks are pink, hair wet from the shower.

"Heading somewhere?"

"I have some work to do at the gallery," Suguru informs, slipping on a pair of black Nike's.

Right. The gallery. Immediately Satoru’s mind flashes to the room dedicated entirely to Suguru’s work, full of drawings and photographs. The flowers, the bathtub, the bruises... Satoru has been meaning to talk to him about it but he hasn't known how to bring it up.

"Oh, okay." Satoru smiles cordially.

Suguru stands up to his full height after the laces are tied, lanky and awkward by the doorway. He's hesitating, it's obvious, but Satoru doesn't understand why.

So Satoru asks. "What?"

Suguru swallows thickly, shifting from foot to foot. "I was wondering if you... Um. There's a lot of open space and it's a nice change of scenery? If you want to come with me and study there, I mean."

"Oh!" Satoru exclaims, surprised. Never in a million years has Satoru even considered the idea of Suguru asking him to spend some time with him. Although he supposes they've been hanging out a lot together lately, and Suguru seems much more comfortable in Satoru’s presence. "Um, sure. That would be nice. I could use a change of scenery. Let me just get ready."

So Satoru gets dressed in clothes that are just as comfy as his pajamas but more socially acceptable, and they head out into the morning sunlight together. They don't talk much, but the quiet is pleasant today.

The thing is, Satoru really doesn't feel like being reminded of Suguru’s showcase—the photographs of his injuries, becoming progressively worse as the series continues. He has yet to bring it up to Suguru and wonders if anyone else has talked to him about it.

That's what makes Satoru ache. The fact that Suguru is so obviously in a bad situation and no one even cares enough to make sure he's okay. Of course it's easier to write off the graphic photos as artistic vision but Satoru knows from firsthand experience the bruises and scratches are much more than an art project. He has held Suguru through tears and coaxed him out of a dark mindset after a nightmare. He has iced his wounds and tried to ease the trauma. Satoru knows better than anyone, apparently, that Suguru has been through a lot and the photos hanging on the walls of the gallery, showing him so broken, are more than just photos.

So as Suguru is opening the unlocked door and leading them into the gallery, Satoru gathers his courage and decides to ask.

He starts off easy. "Do you think people liked your art?"

"Dunno. I hope so."

"What did your professors have to say about it?"

"They liked it, I guess. Liked the title too, and the way I set up the room. The natural progression of the collection."

The way the wounds got worse and the flowers wilted more and more, he means, until the end when everything was dead. Satoru bites nervously at his thumbnail. "What was the title?"

"'Rot.'"

It makes sense. Too much sense. The flowers wilting, the scratches deepening, the bruises darkening. The transition from purity to impurity. Innocence to rot.

Satoru hums in acknowledgement but can't bring himself to say anything else. He wants to ask but he doesn't know what to say. How are you so comfortable turning your abuse into art and submitting it as a class assignment? It's too harsh, too acerbic. Too unfeeling.

"I think I want to see it in the daylight," Satoru finally says instead, after they've walked up the stairs to the third floor where the projects from the showing are still hanging on the walls. There are a few people wandering through the rooms, admiring the art. "Will you come with me?"

Suguru is reluctant. Satoru can tell because his eyes flit to the floor and he bites the inside of his cheek like he wants to say no. But then he looks up and fleetingly meets Satoru’s blue eyes, and gives a weak nod of affirmation.

Sunlight is streaming from the windows as Satoru leads them to the small room full of Suguru’s work alone. He stops at the first piece and Suguru stops beside him. They're silent as they observe. It looks different in the day.

Slowly, Satoru walks through the gallery. Suguru follows behind him and they don't speak for a while. When they get to the picture of Suguru in the bath with his back to the camera, Satoru wants to grasp his hand or touch him in any reassuring way, really. He refrains, but his hands ache with want. With need.

They walk through it together this time and Satoru feels strange knowing the subject of the art pieces is in front of him is also standing beside him, gauging his reaction and looking on worriedly. They get to the end and Satoru feels like crying because he can see the decomposition, he can understand the rotting. When he looks over at Suguru, he sees his face is ghostly pale but resolute. Satoru has never more felt like hugging him.

He doesn't, though. He stands steadily by Suguru’s side and turns to him completely now. "Tell me what it means," he says, even though he knows. He wants to hear it from Suguru.

"There's a description on the plaque over there."

He hasn't read the description yet. He hadn't noticed it on Friday, and today he skipped over it purposefully. "I want to hear it from you. I know it's hard for you to say it out loud but I want to hear it from you. Please."

"Okay. Can we- Can we sit down, please?"

"Alright." Satoru leads them to the center of the room, carrying his bag with him, and sits down cross-legged on the wood floor. Suguru follows hesitantly, sitting across from him, and Satoru scoots closer until their knees are touching.

Luckily, the room is empty, so they aren't really disturbing anyone and no one is judging them for sitting on the ground in the middle of an art exhibit. From here, Satoru can see through the doorway to the main gallery as a few people silently observe the art, flowing from one piece to another.

Satoru drums his fingers on his knees, trying to catch Suguru’s eyes. "So, what is it about, then?"

"Decomposition," Suguru says, his gaze on his hands which are folded nervously in his lap. "Degeneration and all of that. The deterioration of life. Of nature and humankind."

"Rotting," Satoru agrees. "And the loss of innocence, too. Purity to impurity. Because of the bath, and then the bed, right?"

"Right."

"You set it up this way on purpose, obviously. Because you wanted to convey the flowers wilting and the bruises getting worse, and it ends with... it ends with the flower completely wilted, and you in bed with the most severe injuries compared to the rest of the photos. Because you wanted to convey the idea that life deteriorates, and so does humanity. Morality to immorality, innocence to corruption, life to death, good to evil, all of that. I get it."

Suguru nods slowly, eyes still on his hands, fingers entwined and twisting nervously.

"All because someone touched you?"

"What?"

"The shift from purity to impurity is because someone touched you. You used the... the transition from the bathtub, which represents virginity and purity and cleanliness, to the bed which is obviously the opposite, as a form of symbolism. Which means something specific happened to make you feel this way."

"You should analyze art for a living," Suguru says, deflecting. "You're good at it."

"So I'm right?" He knows he's right. He wants Suguru to say it.

"You already know the answer."

Satoru shrugs, but there is no nonchalance. His insides are burning and it hurts more than he can say. He's so worried for Suguru, he doesn't know what to do. "Fair enough. But I'm making a point. Will you let me show you something?"

Suguru obliges, and Satoru stands up from the floor, helping him up too. Instead of going back to the beginning of the series, Satoru pulls Suguru over to the end. They stand in front of the very last photo, the one that shows the entirety of Suguru’s body as he lies in bed, battered and bruised, eyes staring off into the distance as if he's dead.

"You took each of these pictures at different times, right? On different days, I mean. Because the bruises are all different each time."

"Mhm," Suguru mumbles, hands falling helplessly to his sides. Satoru knows this isn't what he pictured when he invited Satoru to come with him but Satoru thinks this is important, this is something they need to do.

Right, so Suguru’s answer is exactly what Satoru thought. He thinks of the night he held Suguru on the couch, and how the next morning he went right to the studio with a camera around his neck to photograph the damage. Here is this boy, abused by his ex-boyfriend, turning his injuries into art. It's unhealthy. It's insane.

"Okay. Walk this way with me please."

They walk around the series backwards and it's a strange juxtaposition to see the flowers blossom instead of wilt, to see the bruises fade instead of darken.

"Do you see?" Satoru asks once they get to the very beginning, with the gorgeous flowers blooming and the bathtub with the petals floating languidly through the water. Clean and new.

"Satoru, I don't think- It doesn't work that way."

"Bruises fade, don't they? Cuts heal."

"But flowers don't magically become alive again."

"Maybe not. But humans are resilient."

"Not always, but. I guess..."

Satoru smiles down at him reassuringly. They're standing close so he has to crane his neck more than usual. "And virginity is a made-up concept. A social construct. 'Purity' has nothing to do with sex."

Suguru looks like he doesn't agree. He's curling in on himself now too, with his arms wrapped around his stomach and his shoulders hunched. Uncomfortable, frightened, so many things. "What does it have to do with, then?"

"Goodness. Being kind to others, and to yourself."

The room falls to silence and Satoru decides to leave Suguru be now, hoping he finally made his point that Suguru is not wilted, damaged, or rotten because of whatever happened to him. He crosses the room to pick up his bag and exits the room to go find a good window to sit next by so he can study with natural lighting. Meanwhile Suguru sets off to doing whatever it is he came here to do.

The rest of the day is peaceful. They stay at the gallery for a few hours, until Suguru is finished. By then, Satoru is satisfied with all the studying he has completed, and feels accomplished for being so productive.

When Suguru returns to him, he's smiling slightly. It makes Satoru smile too, feeling lighter now that he sees Suguru’s mood has lifted. His eyes are lighter, brighter perhaps, and his expression is more relaxed. He runs a hand through his long hair and the two of them walk together, back to their shared apartment. For once it feels less like Satoru’s place that Suguru is staying at, and more like their place.

Of course, the undertones of melancholy are still there, and Satoru can see the heavy darkness that resides behind Suguru’s eyes. But perhaps today he feels a little bit better, and that's all Satoru can really ask for.

Chapter 21

Chapter Text

"I'm home!" Satoru calls as soon as he enters the apartment, kicking off his shoes and throwing his bag to the floor. He's been out all day at the research lab and is so glad to finally be back for the night, ready to relax. Clifford comes running up to him, whimpering impatiently until Satoru smothers him with affection, scratching behind his ears just like he likes.

"In the kitchen," Suguru responds, his voice light and happy. It feels like a good day.

Satoru follows the smell of food, with Clifford trailing happily behind him. He isn't let down by the sight of Suguru in front of the stove, cooking eggs and facon—fake bacon, because Suguru is vegetarian. Satoru actually likes the taste of it, which is surprising. He had been hesitant to try it the first time Suguru made it, but now it has become a regular counterpart of their meals together. Nowadays, because Suguru mostly cooks for him, Satoru rarely ever eats meat. It's something he never thought would happen, but here he is now actually craving facon. Crazy.

Anyways, Suguru is wearing shorts and a t-shirt, despite the fact that it's winter, and his bare legs look long and lean like a model's, the line of them so aesthetically pleasing Satoru has to admire him for a second. Suguru is also wearing a cooking apron with a bright red and orange floral design on it—the apron he uses whenever he's frying facon. The room smells so heavenly, Satoru might be salivating.

"Breakfast for dinner?" Satoru asks hopefully, coming up behind Suguru and peeking from his shoulder. He can do this without fear of startling Suguru because it's a regular occurence now, and he already made his presence known by announcing his arrival.

"Eggs, facon, hashbrowns, and toast," Suguru informs, smiling easily but keeping his eyes down on the stovetop.

Satoru wraps his arms around Suguru from behind and squeezes his middle tightly. Suguru freezes like he usually does when Satoru touches him but doesn't pull away immediately. Satoru knows he'll relax in a moment or two. "I love you, roomie. You treat me so well. What did I ever do without you?"

"Cereal for dinner," Suguru huffs, shrugging Satoru off of him. Straightaway, Satoru misses his warmth.

Satoru doesn't say anything because Suguru isn't wrong about eating cereal for dinner. It's hard to believe he used to have very subpar meals, before Suguru came into his life. Now he eats like a king. A vegetarian king.

It's Wednesday night, a little more than a week after they walked the gallery together. Every weeknight Satoru comes home from class or from research at the lab and is greeted by Suguru cooking in the kitchen, making another delicious meal for dinner. It's become quite the habit, and Satoru repays him by doing the dishes and helping him shop for groceries.

Satoru starts placing napkins and utensils on the kitchen table before Suguru asks, "Will you set the table, Toru?” not looking away from the stove and Satoru laughs, saying yes, I'll do it even though he's already halfway finished with the task. It's hard to ignore the fact that it seems like their minds are on the same wavelength, like sometimes they're thinking the same thoughts.

So they eat breakfast for dinner, sitting at the table which is so small their legs are jammed against each other and Satoru’s ankle is wedged in between Suguru’s shins. They ask about each other's days and end up having one of their endless discussions, this time about the merits of living in a big city versus living in a small city.

It brings up questions about their families, and a month ago Satoru might've been hesitant to breach this topic because he knows how sensitive it is for Suguru, but now that they're so much more familiar with each other, he feels braver.

"Do you miss home?" Satoru asks eventually, after watching Suguru light up when talking about the aspects of small towns he finds endearing and attractive.

"Home?" Suguru asks, stopping abruptly, smile slipping off his face. Oh, what Satoru wouldn't do to get that smile right back. He kind of wishes he could rewind time and maybe not ask that question, but there's no going back now. The point of no return, in terms of questions to ask.

"Yeah, home. Illinois."

He looks down at his plate which is empty now, because they've been talking for so long that they finished their dinner an hour ago. "Umm, I guess I do miss it, kind of. I dunno. It's... It's different than most people, I guess."

Satoru knows he's prying. Still, he can't help but ask. "You mean like, with your parents?"

He inhales sharply, letting his lungs deflate slowly after holding the breath in for an elongated moment. "Yes."

"Do you ever visit them?"

"Haven't seen them since I left for college. They pretty much just wanted me gone."

Satoru hums, pondering. What must it be like to not really have a family? Satoru feels some of that same ache, from being so far away from his mum and his cousins, but even then he still has them. But Suguru… Suguru really doesn't have anyone. "So you haven't been back to Illinois since then?"

"Right." He taps his nail on the edge of his dinner plate before pulling his hands together and settling them uneasily on his lap. "I miss the place but I don't miss them. If I never see them again for the rest of my life, I'm fine with that. I know that's sad but it's the truth. They weren't the best people."

"I get it," Satoru tells him, feeling unrealistically proud of Suguru for opening up. "That happens sometimes. It's okay. You don't need to see them if you don't want to."

Suguru looks surprised. "Really?"

"What do you mean 'really'? Of course, silly. I wouldn't have said it if I didn't believe it."

"It's just... People usually try to get me to reconnect with my parents, when they find out I haven't spoken to them in years."

Satoru thinks of all the times people have probably told Suguru you may not like them, but they're still your family. Blood is thicker than water. It's toxic, considering the situation Satoru can only imagine Suguru was in. With his biological parents gone, he was adopted by a family that would never love him like he deserved. The poor kid had nightmares, for god's sake. He still does.

Satoru swallows thickly, considering. "Yeah, I get it. But if someone treats you like sh*t, you're allowed to stay away from them even if they're family. It's okay."

"Okay. Thank you."

"Of course, kiddo." And he can't help but reach over the table to ruffle Suguru’s hair as he gets up to do the dishes.

Suguru laughs, looking secretly pleased, possibly? There might be a pale pink blush on his cheeks, but it's hard to tell.

"You always call me kiddo."

"I do," Satoru affirms, rolling his eyes. He gathers their plates and forks to make his way to the sink. "You are younger than me."

"By like a month,” Suguru scoffs, still grinning.

"Two, actually." What he doesn't say is, I feel protective of you.

"Besides, you like when I call you that."

"Whatever."

Satoru bites his lip to keep his smile back, getting to work on the dishes.

A little while later, after he cleans up the kitchen and starts the dishwasher, Satoru joins his roommate in the living room. He finds Suguru lying on his side on the couch, feet hanging off because he's so damn tall, cuddling Clifford. Cliff is stretched out happily, eyes closed, paws resting near his chest as Suguru rubs his tummy. The sight of them together is nothing short of too cute for words, and it makes something unfamiliar in Satoru’s chest ache. He doesn't know what it means.

Suguru lifts his legs so Satoru can sit on the couch, and then sets them right back down on his lap. Satoru wraps his grip around Suguru’s ankle, feeling smooth skin. "Aren't your feet cold?"

"Aren't yours? You never wear socks."

"Fair point."

"But yes, now that you ask, they are cold."

Satoru huffs a laugh, rubbing Suguru’s feet to warm them up. "So what are we watching tonight?"

They end up with The Devil Wears Prada, which is a classic. By the end of the movie, all three of them—Satoru, Suguru, and Clifford—are asleep in a messy pile of limbs.

Chapter 22

Chapter Text

Before he broke up with his boyfriend, and before the pictures of him spread throughout campus, Satoru used to go out with his friends almost every night and have fun.

It was usually a good time. He would party, get wasted, and act like a someone who had nothing to lose. He would mess around with guys during the in between time when he wasn't dating someone, and it was great because there was never any real commitment. Even when he was in a relationship, it never lasted too long and almost always centered around sex.

The point is that Satoru used to go out all the time, enjoying the freedom and liveliness of being young and unattached. And then the last relationship happened and really put a damper on things. Satoru no longer felt like going out and he lost most of his friends anyways so it didn't even matter. The only people who missed him were Shoko and Nanami.

Going out with them now, after so much has changed, feels starkly different. Especially with Suguru there.

To start, Satoru doesn't feel like getting wasted. He hardly wants to drink at all, really. He drinks beer to placate the others but really doesn't crave that warmth flowing through his veins anymore. It all seems so pointless, happiness contrived from alcohol. Couldn't he have something real, for once in his life?

Besides, the warmth of alcohol isn't enough anymore. There's this cold chill beneath his skin that has been there for months and it just won't go away, no matter what he does. The iciness is intangible, unable to be reached by physical means. He feels it in his soul, and nowadays not even the distraction of inebriation palliates the ache.

Suguru seems to be following an opposite doctrine. His tenet is more about dismissing reality and failing to remember whatever it is that grieves him. He's on his fourth drink and they haven't even been here very long. Satoru watches him warily from across the table but doesn't comment on his excessive drinking. None of the others seem concerned.

Satoru thinks back to the time Suguru was crying in his room and drank an entire bottle of cherry wine by himself. He wonders if it's a coping mechanism or even an actual addiction. Suguru doesn't drink regularly, as far as Satoru can tell, but he's still worried because there's so much he doesn't know.

Halfway through the night Suguru says he isn't feeling well and no one really pays him any mind except Satoru. Isn't that funny? Maybe he's abnormally attuned to Suguru’s feelings and wellbeing because they've been roommates for weeks now, or maybe he's just perceptive and cares about others. Whatever it is, Satoru slips out of the booth after Suguru, feeling too worried and too sober for a Friday night.

He gets to the bathroom just in time to see Suguru stumble into a stall and throw up into the toilet. The entire bathroom smells like puke, cheap cleaning supplies, and regret anyways and it makes Satoru uncomfortably queasy. He waits until Suguru is finished puking to call out his name.

“Suguru, babe," Satoru sighs. Why is he always the one picking up the pieces? "We should probably get you home."

Suguru responds by dry-heaving into the toilet. Satoru comes up behind him and rubs his back comfortingly, knowing from experience how much it sucks to be sick, especially when you know it's your own fault. There's no need to be cross with him; Suguru is having a hard enough time as it is.

Once he's pretty sure Suguru won't get sick again, he helps him up off his knees and props him up against the wall. Suguru moans in distress, swaying dangerously and dropping his head to Satoru’s shoulder.

"It's alright, Sugu. You're okay. I've got you."

With impressive strength and a lot of resolve, Satoru manages to get Suguru all the way out of the bar and on the sidewalk outside, leaning against him for support. They aren't very far from their apartment so he decides to leg it, forgoing a taxi since it wouldn't be worth it. Suguru is basically deadweight at this point but he thinks they can make it if he tries hard enough.

They arrive at the apartments with minimal struggle, but from there it's all downhill. Satoru practically drags Suguru up the three flights of stairs and by the end of it he's so exhausted and pissed off, he considers giving up and leaving Suguru on the floor of the stairwell. That would serve him right for getting so wasted he can't even stand up straight... But Satoru isn't cruel.

So he doesn't give up, and manages to haul Suguru inside. He deposits him on the couch and sends a quick text to Shoko saying they got home safely, because communication is important and he doesn't want anyone to worry. Then he fills a glass with water and forces Suguru to drink it.

"You have to."

"I don't wanna," Suguru refuses, very childishly crossing his arms in a sloppy manner and turning his nose away at the sight of the glass of water, much like that night all those weeks ago when Satoru had him sitting at the kitchen table, begging him to drink water to sober up.

Satoru sighs and groans like a jaded parent trying to get their child to eat vegetables at dinner to no avail. He knows from experience that Suguru reverts back to childish behavior when he's drunk—he has seen it before. It appears to be a common theme, always acting younger, like a child. He likes being called baby and kiddo, for god's sake. He definitely has a daddy kink, doesn't he?

He hurts me. Daddy hurts me.

"f*ck," Satoru groans, setting the cup down on the table so forcefully, half the water spills out. The sound resonates throughout the otherwise quiet room, save for Suguru’s breathy inhales and exhales. His voice comes out annoyed and angry. Those two stupid intrusive and disturbing sentences have been haunting him ever since Suguru admitted them so many weeks ago, and he has yet to inquire about them and now is definitely not the time.

He knows immediately he made a mistake by raising his voice. Suguru is backing away as much as he can while sitting on the couch, and he has his arms wrapped around himself like a protective shield. His eyes are wide, innocent, and worried. Because Satoru is angry and he thinks it's targeted towards him.

It's not, of course. Why would he be angry at Suguru? But Suguru doesn't know that. And he's currently sinking into himself like he's afraid Satoru is going to. hurt him.

sh*t, Satoru thinks, but doesn't say it out loud which is definitely for the best. He doesn't know what to do but it's too late anyways because there's this distant look in Suguru’s eyes. Suddenly Satoru remembers something he read recently, from a journal written by an abuse survivor. His recollection is vague but the sentiment is the same.

Earlier, he had been scrolling through blog posts on a darker side of the Internet, perhaps from five or ten years ago because there was little information on the topic Satoru was researching, and everything interesting was slightly outdated. Some of the journal entries he stumbled upon were so disturbing they made him sick.

"He wants to know why sometimes in the face of conflict I neither fight nor flee, but instead go disconcertingly mute, eyes locked ahead like some sad dead thing looking off into the empty of its own future."

And then, on a later page:

"Children who have no escape from the hands of that harm learn to die over and over again."

So lately he has been reading up on post traumatic stress disorder because it seems like something Suguru might have and he wants to know as much about it as he can in case he can help Suguru. Right now as he's remembering all the medical pages he has skimmed over the past few days, the blog posts and the stories and everything that comprises his current understanding.

Clearly, he was really stupid just now to raise his voice and show frustration by slamming the glass on the table because it's very obvious now that something there triggered Suguru and it's all Satoru’s fault.

He scrambles for some sort of informational purchase in his brain that may allow him to figure out what to do to help Suguru, but he comes up with nothing. Just those sad stories about people and their trauma, their nightmares, their fear.

Suguru is looking at him now, or in his direction at least, but it feels as though he's looking past him, straight through him. His eyes are glazed over, his face impassive, as he sits catatonically and hardly moves except to breathe. It would be much more manageable if he had run away screaming or even collapsed into a puddle of tears, but this... Satoru doesn't know how to handle this.

So he pulls out his phone and searches the Internet because he doesn't know what else to do. He clicks on the first link and bites his thumb nervously while the page loads.

The first step is to move the person who is dissociating to a safe space, but Satoru doesn't know where else he can bring Suguru that is safer or calmer than right here, so he moves on. Next is to dim the lights to ease overstimulation, so he turns the overhead light off in favor of the small lamp on the table beside the couch. Suguru is still sitting there, completely spaced out, his face blank. It worries Satoru to no end and he scrambles for a remedy, a solution.

So he continues on and moves to the third step which is to offer Suguru sensory items. The website suggests a stress ball to occupy his hands, or even a fuzzy sweater. Satoru nearly runs to Suguru;s bedroom to retrieve the stuffed bunny, and brings it back in record time. He shoves it in Suguru’s hands and watches worriedly as he clutches it loosely, hardly even reacting.

One of the other suggestions says "use physical touch when you know it's okay to do so" but he doesn't know if it's okay. He and Suguru have never talked about this before but hugging him typically seems to help when he has nightmares so maybe it wouldn't be so bad right now.

Physical touch is the last piece of advice given by that specific website so Satoru decides to sift through the second link. This one says most of the same suggestions, but includes a counterpart on what to say. It warns not to yell, which seems obvious, and suggests speaking clearly and simply, starting with the person's name, to tell them the time and where they are, and then to just talk to them about topics that are either calming or stimulating depending on what the person needs.

“Suguru,” Satoru tries, keeping his voice soft, warm, and even-toned. He sits down beside him but is careful not to touch in case the physical contact startles him even more. “Suguru honey, do you know where you are?"

There's no verbal response but his gaze follows Satoru’s movement and eventually settles on Satoru’s eyes. There's a look of absence and vacancy on his visage and it's horrifying to see, like his body is just an empty shell and his mind is faraway.

“Suguru,” Satoru says again, this time just to say his name and try to smile sweetly even though it's hard to move past a grimace. "It's okay. I'm sorry. Everything's okay. We're at home right now, in the living room. You're safe here."

It doesn't get better, even after Satoru talks to him for a long while about mindless, meaningless things like their plans for the weekend or what they had for breakfast this morning. It definitely doesn't help that Suguru is drunk already, inhibiting him even more. Eventually Satoru gives up but he doesn't know what to do because he doesn't want to leave Suguru alone.

In his mind the only option is to bring Suguru into his own bedroom and he doesn't think much of it until they're actually there, together. Suguru lets Satoru move him like a doll, maneuvering him onto the mattress. It makes Satoru ache to see how vulnerable Suguru is when he's dissociating, because it must happen a lot when he's around his boyfriend who hurts him, and it's so painfully easy to take advantage of Suguru right now. Anyone could do anything to him and he would just go with it, no protest at all.

Satoru doesn't know what to do so he turns out the light and prays it'll all be over in the morning. He nudges Suguru onto his side and then lies down beside him, wondering if he should hold him.

In due time, he gives into that ugly desire within himself to soothe Suguru by physical touch, and wraps his arms around his middle, hugging him from behind and pressing his face into his neck.

The thing is, Suguru doesn't react at all. He stays still and unmoving and only sniffles a little bit. He doesn't even flinch away, like he would if he was at all lucid. He's so compliant and unresponsive and it causes tears to prickle in the corners of Satoru’s eyes, and then he's f*cking crying, with his arms around Suguru, his hands clutching Suguru’s, their fingers interlaced and resting on Suguru’s stomach. The tears drip down Satoru’s face and probably wet the back of Suguru’s neck because there's absolutely no space between the two of them, but even then Suguru doesn't react at all.

Like he's a doll, easily moved and manipulated. Like he's a shell, hollow and empty.

Not a person. A doll. A shell.

Satoru is still crying as he falls asleep. Suguru is still staring at the wall.

Chapter 23

Chapter Text

Movement is what wakes him up. Squirming, and then thrashing.

As soon as he realizes what's happening, Satoru breaks his hold on Suguru and pulls his arms away from him, giving him space.

Suguru is still asleep, his eyes squeezed shut tightly like he's in pain, and his muscles are taught and tense. He shifts back and forth, fingers splaying and then clenching into fists repeatedly, so much it looks achingly uncomfortable. His legs kicks out and hits Satoru in the shin, hard enough to make a bruise. It's unexpected so Satoru makes a noise of distress before sitting up.

He needs to wake him. So he starts shaking his shoulder gently like he learned to do after endless nights of helping Suguru through his nightmares. It doesn't work this time and Satoru gets worried. Suguru is still thrashing around and if he doesn't stop soon he's going to hurt himself or Satoru.

“Suguru, c'mon, wake up," Satoru mutters, squeezing his shoulders hard enough to pinch him. That doesn't work in waking him up, but it does make him stop thrashing around so much.

The noises of distress leaving Suguru’s closed lips turn more into panicked whimpers and Satoru holds him tighter now that he isn't kicking so much, because this is something he's more familiar with, something he knows how to help.

"C'mon Sugu, it's alright. Wake up, c'mon..."

He continues moaning through his lips pressed tightly together and he's so tense, jaw clenched so tightly Satoru wonders if he's biting his tongue, and then wonders if it hurts, and that makes him upset, so he stops thinking of it and holds him tighter, rocking him like a baby.

It's alright, it's alright, it's alright. Come on Suguru, wake up. Wake up, wake up, wake up...

All at once Suguru’s body relaxes and Satoru breathes a short sigh of relief even though he's startled at how sudden it is. He hugs Suguru close and smiles into his neck, finally eased and mollified. When he moves his legs his notices the feeling of something warm and wet but doesn't think much of it, too preoccupied with making sure Suguru is okay.

His eyes flutter open slowly and he squints in the early morning light. The sun hasn't risen yet but it's getting closer to breaching the horizon and the room is dark but not colorless. Everything is in shades of indigo.

The moment Suguru realizes he isn't alone is marked by the way he turns completely rigid and still, his eyes wide.

"Where am I?" he asks shakily, pulling away just enough that Satoru finally realizes what the wetness is.

Suguru realizes at the same time because his eyes widen even more and he looks mortified.

"Is that- Did I..."

"Shh, c'mere, it's okay," Satoru soothes, and he should be more grossed out but he isn't, really, because he's realizing just now that he cares so much about Suguru and would do a lot just for him to be happy, to be safe.

Suguru is having none of it. He scrambles out of bed but gets tangled in the sheets which are soaked with urine. He looks panicked and horrified, completely lucid and coherent now which is a great contrast from last night's inebriation and dissociation. Satoru is glad he's back to normal, but not glad he's so frightened and unnerved.

"Wh- What happened?" Suguru asks, and then he thinks better of it as he flails and tries to get his feet on the floor. "Actually wait please don't tell me, oh my god, f*ck, I need to, ugh- I need to kill myself, this is just- f*ck-"

"Don't say that," Satoru warns, trying to get a good grip on his wrist to pull him back into bed. Or at least to stop him from running away. "Don't you dare say that."

He pulls his arm away quickly and manages to get to a steady position on the floor. He squeezes his eyes shut and slowly lets his hands fall to his crotch where he tentatively touches the fabric of the jeans he's still wearing from going out last night and he winces when he must’ve feel their dampness. In all honesty Satoru doesn't give a f*ck Suguru wet himself when he was having a nightmare, but Suguru is so caught up on it and he looks like he would swan dive off a building if given the chance.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry, this is why I can't- oh my god. This is why- This is why I can't..." he trails off, looking devastated and humiliated and like he was really serious when he said he wanted to kill himself.

And Satoru- Satoru can't have that.

So he stands despite his exhaustion and pulls Suguru into a hug before he can escape. Still he tries to break free but Satoru won't let him.

"It's okay, it's fine, Sugu. You're fine."

"No, Sato- Please, I can't. Oh my god. I want to die. I need to-"

He doesn't finish his sentence explaining what he needs to do, because he breaks free of Satoru’s grasp, bursts into tears, and frantically dashes out of the room, down the hall and to the bathroom. Satoru is so shocked he doesn't do anything for a moment, before deciding to give Suguru a little bit of space and breathing room to calm down.

Then it sinks in about what Suguru said early, about killing himself, and Satoru’s heart thuds messily in his chest as he hurries down the hall after him. The door to the bathroom is closed and Satoru knocks on it worriedly to announce his presence before twisting the doorknob, glad it isn't locked.

The water is running and the shower curtain is closed, with Suguru presumably behind it. His clothes are discarded in a disorganized pile on the floor.

“Suguru?”

"I'm fine, please go away."

Satoru swallows thickly, unwilling to leave the room but not knowing what to say. He settles on, "There's no reason to be embarrassed."

Suguru scoffs before laughing maniacally, sounding like he's on the verge of a real breakdown. "There's no reason to be embarrassed?" he repeats incredulously, laughing so it echoes off the tiles of the shower, worrying Satoru even more because clearly he's very unstable right now. "I just pissed myself like a toddler, for f*ck's sake."

"It happens," Satoru rushes to assure. "It's common with nightmares. It's okay, Suguru.”

"It's f*cking not okay-"

“Suguru, please listen to me-"

"Oh my f*cking god, for the love of f*ck, shut up."

That gets Satoru to close his mouth really quickly, jamming his jaw closed, his teeth clashing so hard they make a clanging noise. He doesn't know what to do, especially when Suguru is mad at him, so he stands there staring at the cheap, ugly shower curtain with a gaudy seashell and starfish pattern, his hands falling helplessly to his sides. He remains obediently silent.

When his mind catches up with the hurt he's experiencing in his heart, he realizes he's being stupid for feeling so offended by Suguru snapping at him. He storms forward, pulling the shower curtain aside to get Suguru’s attention, but doesn't let his eyes wander away from his face. There's no way he would betray Suguru’s trust by looking anywhere else and invading his privacy. Not that he would want to look at Suguru, anyways. He may be attractive and kind but that doesn't mean Satoru has to feel any certain specific way about him.

Especially when... Especially when the situation is so bad. When Suguru is damaged, and needs nothing more than a person to look out for him. A friend.

So Satoru gives his coldest, most unmoving glare and sets out with an icy tone. His voice is stern and paternal and he already feels bad about it even before he gets the words out. But it's important. "I'm going to wait in here with you until you finish your shower because I don't want you to hurt yourself. And don't you dare talk to me like that again when I'm just trying to help."

Suguru glowers at him but doesn't make another sound or movement. Satoru takes that as confirmation enough and yanks the shower curtain closed before slumping down on the closed toilet lid.

He's exhausted, sad, and feels like sh*t. Perhaps not the best way to start the day.

By the time the water shuts off, all the fight has left Satoru and he just feels melancholic. Suguru must feel the same, if the way he sniffles sadly from inside the shower is any indication. When he pulls the curtain back and asks for a towel, it's obvious he has been crying.

Satoru hands him his towel from the rack and looks down at his lap again while Suguru dries off. In a moment the curtain is pulled back completely and Suguru steps out with the towel wrapped around him, looking crestfallen.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, shifting nervously, gaze on his bare feet.

"I am too. It's okay." He shouldn't give in too early but he can't help it. Suguru doesn't deserve any of this.

"I just- I dunno. I'm so embarrassed and I feel like sh*t."

"I feel like sh*t too. And please don't feel embarrassed, Sugu, please."

You've been through so much, Satoru wants to add, but he can't work up the courage. You're so brave. There's no reason to be ashamed.

Suguru worries his lip between his teeth in contemplation and doesn't respond. Satoru thinks about his wet bedsheets and holds back a sigh, remembering the laundry he'll have to do today. He has lecture at one o'clock, too, and he doesn't want to leave Suguru alone. But that's a problem for later.

"Let's get you dried off, yeah? And then maybe we can go back to bed? It's not even six yet."

"Okay," Suguru sniffles, standing there helplessly.

Satoru reaches out and rubs at the part of the towel covering his shoulders in an effort to dry him off. Suguru stands there cooperatively without any objections. Eventually Satoru speeds up the process by taking the towel from his shoulders and drying Suguru off more efficiently, nakedness be damned. He doesn't look, doesn't pay attention to any of it. It's so unsexy, it's mechanical. Possibly even parental, the way he rubs the towel over Suguru’s bare skin until it's dry. The way Suguru lifts his arms with a freakish sort of docility and is willing to be moved like a doll.

"Alright, Sugu?”

"Yeah. Thank you."

"Of course." He grasps Suguru’s hand and leads him out of the bathroom, tugging him to his own room this time since he still needs to wash his sheets. "Let's get you dressed, and then you can sleep."

Suguru stands beside the bed and doesn't make a move to get any clothes, so Satoru does it for him, rummaging through the dresser for something comfortable. He pulls out a pair of pajama shorts and a soft t-shirt before turning to Suguru who's shivering in his nakedness, curled in on himself like he does so often.

Satoru tries handing the clothes to him, but he doesn't reach out to receive them so Satoru sighs and dresses him too. He pulls the shirt over his head, guiding his arms through the sleeves, before sinking down to his knees and helping Suguru pull the shorts on, tugging them up his thighs and over the curve of his ass to rest on his hips. His skin feels cold to the touch, but soft in a way Satoru has never experienced before.

It's crazy and stupid, way too intimate for roommates, for friends. Satoru is taking care of him like a parent would care for a child and that's a weird complex to have, because Satoru likes Suguru and finds him attractive and they're friends for god's sake, so what the f*ck is going on? He feels... He feels confused. He doesn't know what he feels.

"Alright?" he asks again, forcing the weird, vaguely disturbing thoughts from his mind. Everything is confusing; everything is disconcerting.

He nods, tucking his chin down to his chest submissively, like he's ashamed. Satoru can't even begin to imagine what he must be feeling right now though.

Satoru swallows thickly because sometimes Suguru acts so much like a child that it's confusing to witness. The submission, the dependency. The disturbing lack of autonomy. "Okay. Bedtime now, yeah?"

He nods again but doesn't show any indication of moving again so Satoru nudges him towards the mattress on the floor, making an internal promise to himself he'll go looking for a bedframe for Suguru soon. When Suguru is lying down on the mattress, Satoru pulls the blankets up and tucks them under his chin like he always does. Suguru has the bunny clutched to his chest and his eyelashes are fluttering sleepily now as he blinks slowly.

"How come you aren't embarrassed to have me dress you?"

He didn't mean to ask, but it just came out and there's no way to take the words back now that they're hanging in the air like a mistake. Like an intrusion.

Suguru doesn't seem perturbed. "I'm not ashamed of my body."

Satoru hums in thoughtful response, considering. Then he can't help but think of what he has read before about sexual abuse victims, and how they are often comfortable being naked or don't see anything wrong with it. Not that there's anything wrong with it, but most people are more modest. It's another box to check off, another similarity between lists and each piece of evidence of Suguru’s past makes Satoru feel sicker and sicker.

"You like when people take care of you." It may be a non sequitur but it isn't a question.

Satoru knows this to be true, knows it in the way that Suguru likes warm blankets, stuffed animals, bubble baths, intimate poetry, platonic cuddling, and on and on and on. Satoru knows this to be true because he saw it in the way Suguru flirted with his abusive ex-boyfriend Toji, the way he tilted his chin down submissively and looked up at him with his eyes purposefully wide as a doe's, the way his shoulders curved forward with the relaxed weight of satisfaction as they walked from the bar because he knew he was getting exactly what he wanted. And that's... That's... Satoru doesn't know what that is. Bad, maybe. Awful.

"And you like to take care of people." Also not a question. Just a statement of fact. Suguru is challenging and accepting all at once. Like he's begging Satoru to confirm what he already knows to be true. And why does it matter?

There's a beat of heavy silence. Satoru is in no rush to break it, no matter how awkward. He doesn't want to be the one to say what they're both thinking.

Suguru is the one who says it. "So I guess we compliment each other," he finishes off, eyes flitting away nervously. And he's... Satoru is confused, because how can he be such an enigma? Confident and insecure all at once, in both the best and worst ways. It makes him ache.

"Right." Satoru sets his hand on his hip, observing him. His dark, girlish eyelashes and strong masculine jawline. The way his skin is still blotchy from all the crying and his lips are puffy and pink from the shower and all the biting his does when he's nervous. He's still shaking like he always is, and Satoru wonders if the trembling will ever go away or if it's something Suguru will just have to deal with forever. He exhales a long sigh. "I guess we do."

Suguru watches him leave the room.

Chapter 24

Chapter Text

They go to Satoru’s chemistry lecture together because he's afraid to leave him alone.

Two offhanded comments that hint at suicidal thoughts are enough to make him worry. Suguru is reluctant to go, and doesn't understand why Satoru wants him there, so Satoru promises him they'll take a trip to the bookstore afterwards to make up for it.

Walking into class with Suguru is strange because it's immediately obvious he's an outsider who doesn't belong. He looks like a stereotypical art student with his high-waisted jeans and white t-shirt with the words ‘Exorcise. Consume.’ printed on it. He's wearing his pink converse today, the ones that look like they're about the fall apart, and he has his thick-rimmed glasses resting in his messy long hair. He has his sketchbook in his arms and there's charcoal smudged all over the side of his right hand. Sometimes Satoru finds it baffling how someone who is so messy inside can pull himself together and look like he's collected, even if he's really not.

Meanwhile the rest of the class is dressed in jeans and hoodies. There's ten minutes until lecture starts and still everyone looks up when they enter the room, their eyes landing on Suguru. Satoru heads over to the professor, who is standing beside the podium, to introduce Suguru.

Satoru greets him cordially and then asks if his art student friend Suguru can sit in on the lecture. The prof looks confused and skeptical but happy to have another person listen to his frankly boring lectures on chemical structures.

"Thinking of transferring into the major?" he asks, his question directed at Suguru.

Suguru obviously wasn't expecting to be addressed directly, so his eyes widen slightly and he shuffles halfway behind Satoru for a moment before relaxing and laughing a little, making some joke about becoming a chemist.

"There is an art to it, you know," the professor says passionately. "Who knows, you may find you like the subject."

Suguru nods and gives him a warm, charming smile, joking with him some more before Satoru pulls him to a seat. Instead of going to his typical spot in the middle of the second row, he guides Suguru to the edge of the aisle and sits down there. Whoever sits here normally will have to move, no big deal.

One of Satoru’s lab partners comes in a few minutes later, cradling her baby to her chest. Satoru admires her a lot for going pursuing a chemistry degree when she has a little one to take care of, and he never minds when she brings her to class. Usually she has the professor hold the baby as he lectures, so she can take notes. It's cute and the professor likes babies so it works.

“Satoru!” he calls out, once he has the baby in his arms. "How does your friend over there feel about babies?"

Satoru looks to Suguru, laughing a little, and then feeling his heart warm when Suguru’s face breaks out into a real smile. "I love babies."

The professor looks pleased, and when the mother of the baby says it's okay, he hands her over to Suguru, who cradles her to his chest.

"Mind holding her for the class period? It'll give you something to do."

"I don't mind at all."

"Perfect." The professor turns to Satoru, smiling. "I like your friend."

"Yeah, yeah," Satoru says, sitting back in his seat. Suguru coos at the baby and tickles her until she laughs, the sound pleasant and joyful like little bells.

All in all, it's a weird day.

Chapter 25

Chapter Text

Later, at the bookstore, Suguru goes off on a rant about how much he loves babies. It has been the topic of conversation ever since they left lecture at the end of the hour, but as soon as they enter the bookstore the words just spill animatedly out of Suguru like he couldn't stop himself from saying them even if he wanted to.

He has to be quiet, though, because the bookstore has a tranquil atmosphere that would be disturbed by conversation at a normal volume. This means that Suguru has to lean close to Satoru as he whispers breathily, conveying his excitement even as he abides by the quiet norm.

"They're just so cute, Satoru. I want twenty of them. Right now."

"Right now?"

"Yes, right now. Twenty of them."

"Maybe you should start with one," Satoru offers, thumbing at the poetry books, though the earlier sight of Suguru with a little girl cradled in his arms makes something swirl in Satoru’s tummy. Even with all the trauma, Suguru would make a good parent. Kind and sweet. Supportive. Loving.

"There's no way. I need them all right now."

Satoru rolls his eyes, but he's laughing quietly. He doesn't respond in favor of pulling a book down from the shelf, the complete collection of Emily Dickinson's poetry.

And like, it's weird. Because it feels so normal now, when Suguru is laughing and joking around, talking so casually about his future as if he wasn't just insinuating ending it this morning. As if last night—the inebriation and the dissociation, the vacancy—had never happened.

There's a coffee shop attached to the bookstore so they order two mugs of lemon tea and an apricot pastry to share. Suguru curls up in his seat with his knees pulled to his chest and his cup resting in his hands to warm them. They sit in silence for a long time, when Satoru reads the beginning chapters of the book he just bought and Suguru stares out the window, lost in thought.

"You sang to me," he remarks suddenly, completely out of the blue, as if just remembering.

Satoru marks his page with the ribbon sewn into the spine, sliding it between the pages before closing the book completely. "I did," he agrees easily, though he's eyeing Suguru wondering where he'll go with this.

"It helped me fall asleep." And the admission is so unexpected, Satoru considers he dreamed it.

"Did it? That's good."

"You never sing, though. Even when we're just... Even when it's just you. Why don't you sing more often?" Suguru asks.

Satoru stares down at the cover of his book, wondering if Suguru knows he hit a sore spot, or if he's just blindly feeling around in the dark and has no idea how delicate and tricky this is. Could it really be a coincidence, Suguru asking Satoru something so personal?

So he leaves it simple, commenting, "I used to sing a lot."

"Really?"

"Are you surprised?"

"No. You have a lovely voice."

"Thank you."

"Why did you stop singing, then?"

Satoru shrugs noncommittally, not wanting to talk about it.

Why would he want to talk about it? The entire situation was, and still is, painful. It's not like he can't sing anymore, it's just that it reminds him of what he can't have. Call him dramatic, but he loved playing every so often at the bar and having people come the nights he performed, specifically because he was there. It was so great, something he really loved, being able to cover songs and even perform some of his own.

Nowadays, singing just reminds him of what he can't have because of what happened. It pisses him off and makes him sick all the same, and guilty in a weird way. He'll never regret his sexuality or even taking photos of himself in general, but he definitely regrets sending those pictures to his boyfriend.

And yeah, maybe he shouldn't let something so stupid like that dictate whether or not he enjoys a hobby he loves, but he can't help it. Singing and playing guitar are activities attached to too many bad feelings and he's hopelessly unable to see himself partaking in any sort of music within the distant future.

So Suguru complimenting his singing is strange because he hasn't sung in months, not even casually to the radio or in the shower or anything. But he sang for Suguru last night because Suguru asked him to...

"Will you sing to me again, then?"

"You really want me to?"

Suguru mumbles something but Satoru doesn't catch it.

"What was that?"

His cheeks pinken slightly and Satoru wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't been gazing at him so intently. "Um, yeah."

Satoru bites his lip, considering. "I mean, I guess if you really want me to, I can."

Suguru nods and doesn't meet his eyes. He's embarrassed. Satoru is too.

They go back to what they were doing before Suguru said anything at all. While Suguru gazes out the window with a distant look on his face, Satoru stares at the page of his book and reads the same sentence over and over again without realizing it, because his mind is preoccupied with worries for his roommate. In the beginning, he hadn't known how bad things were.

As time passes it's becoming more and more apparent that Suguru is hiding a lot of suffering beneath the surface. With near perfect concealment, he disguises everything within shadow.

Chapter 26

Chapter Text

Later in the evening, they're sitting on the couch together. They do this often, and have been for weeks now. It's definitely a habit.

Suguru is fresh out of the shower—his second for the day, although the incident from the morning is probably best left forgotten. His hair is wet, and darker from the dampness, with loose curls forming as it dries. His skin is pale, eyes sunken, yet lips pink as ever. The oversized t-shirt he's wearing is worn and incredibly soft to the touch when Satoru brushes up against it; they're sitting so close together that this is a thing that happens.

"Tired?" Satoru asks, only after Suguru’s head has dropped to his shoulder, post-yawn. It feels warm and unbelievably comfortable to be nestled into the couch like this, pressed up against each other.

"Mhm..."

"You should go to bed then, yeah?"

He makes a noise of disgruntled disagreement, and when he speaks it sounds like a whine: "But you promised to sing to me."

Satoru just barely resists rolling his eyes, feeling a little disappointed because he had been hoping Suguru would forget and he wouldn't have to sing. A sigh escapes his lips before he can catch himself. He feels bad almost immediately, when he looks at Suguru and sees how upset he looks... almost self-loathing.

So Satoru pats his knee in encouragement and says, "Go get ready for bed and I'll meet you in your room."

The readiness to which Suguru follows orders is slightly worrying. He heads off to the bathroom to brush his teeth and Satoru wanders through the hallway for a moment, feeling vaguely sick with nerves. He had been fine singing to him the other day because it was a spur-of-the-moment decision, but now that he knows he's going to sing, and share a part of himself that is so personal, he feels dizzy.

Satoru is sitting on the edge of the bed when Suguru enters the room, looking sleepy and childlike and adorable. The big t-shirt falls to mid-thigh and Satoru can only hope he's wearing shorts beneath.

Suguru approaches the bed and clambers onto it, crawling forward and squirming beneath the covers. Satoru waits patiently as he gets situated, feeling awkward and completely unsure of what to do. After a moment he looks down to find big brown eyes staring back up at him expectantly and he sucks in a deep breath, deciding just to get it over with.

"Do you have a song preference?"

"A lullaby."

Satoru nods, swallowing quickly. The hesitation gives Suguru time to scoot closer and nuzzle his face into the side of Satoru's leg, since Satoru is sitting up beside him. His big hand clutches at the fabric of Satoru's sweatpants. Conceding, Satoru slides his fingers into Suguru’s hair and strokes gently.

He begins to sing, and everything else falls away.

-

Suguru falls asleep quickly.

Satoru suspects falling asleep isn't the problem; the nightmares are the problem. Still, he feels accomplished when he looks down at Suguru who is practically clinging to his leg, his big hand squeezing Satoru's thigh even in his sleep. His eyes are closed, face languid, everything at ease. Peaceful.

It's a bummer to have to leave him when he seems so comfortable, like he finally feels safe.

Guilt washes over Satoru as he pries Suguru’s hand off his thigh and carefully detaches himself, retreating to his own bedroom.

It's easier this way. At least that's what he tells himself.

Chapter 27

Chapter Text

As time passes, Satoru becomes strikingly aware of the fact that Suguru is a creature of tendency and pattern.

He has many habits. Some of them involve Satoru.

For example: he rarely sleeps during the night, and Satoru assumes this is because he's more inclined to get bad dreams at night. So Suguru falling asleep in the apartment at random times in order to make up for his lack of nighttime rest becomes the norm. He naps on the couch, at the kitchen table, and on the floor in front of the TV. Rarely in his own bed.

Satoru finds him like this when he returns home from classes. This is nothing new. Sometimes Clifford is cuddled up with him and sometimes he isn't.

For example: he has a routine of watching TV before bed. Not that he actually goes to sleep afterwards, but it seems he and Satoru have a set bedtime which is around ten o'clock—insanely early for two college students. They sit close together on the couch and don't really speak much unless Suguru initiates the conversation, which is rare.

Satoru isn't naive enough to think that Suguru actually sleeps when he retires to his room for the night, but he hopes. In reality, Suguru works on his various art pieces for hours in a certain silence that can only be a mixture of concentration and fear.

For example: whenever he's sad he gets drunk. It doesn't matter if they're going out with friends or not; Suguru will drink alone if he has to.

For example: whenever he's drunk he gets horny. This is just a guess on Satoru's part but it makes sense, because after consuming enough alcohol to make his eyes a little dazed and his complexion a little flushed, he dresses in tight jeans and some sort of ridiculous-looking but inexplicably sexy top and Satoru catches him by the door just before he leaves, wanting to ask where he's going but never actually doing it.

He doesn't need to ask because Suguru always returns in the middle of the night or early in the morning, crying. Sometimes there are bruises. Sometimes there is blood. Sometimes there are nothing but tears.

It's safe to assume these are the nights Suguru visits Toji. When he's sad, drunk, horny, and reckless. Self-destructive, perhaps. It would make sense.

For example: he hurts me. Daddy hurts me.

He's a creature of habit. Why else would he go back time and time again to the very person who hurts him? Why else would he return to his abuser?

Yet somehow, despite it all, through the endless hours of darkness and fear, pain and torture, daydreams and nightmares... there is happiness. Like one little flickering flame in an infinite darkness. Weak but hopeful, tragic in a sanguine way. Like fighting the odds, and going back time and time again even when the result is always the same.

For example: Suguru sings when he's happy.

Satoru only knows this because one day he came home and Suguru wasn't passed out on the couch, but instead in the kitchen baking cookies. And while he stirred the ingredients together in glass mixing bowl, he hummed a mindless tune. And then—he sang.

When Satoru asked him about what had made him so cheerful, Suguru only shrugged and pressed his lips tighter together. Refusing to give an answer.

Maybe there wasn't one.

Chapter 28

Chapter Text

The combination of sadness, drinking, and horniness eventually becomes a blinding issue.

It's Tuesday night when Satoru finally breaks and says something about it. Seated on the armchair he rarely uses anymore, he's typing a lab report on his laptop and hating life because he would much rather be doing almost anything else.

Suguru emerges from his room smelling of wine and looking sad. Perhaps more sad than usual. But the wine isn't a good sign and neither are the skinny jeans. He lifts his arms up to style his long hair, peering into the mirror hanging in the foyer, and his shirt rides up. Thus a strip of lace is visible above the waistline of his jeans. Lingerie just like Satoru noticed weeks ago when he bent over to put on his shoes.

Not good. He's visiting Toji, Satoru presumes, because that's really the only logical explanation. Not that Suguru is logical, but he's definitely predictable. Satoru already knows exactly how this night will end. If he doesn't step in and say something, that is.

So Satoru’s measly effort at confrontation doesn't go very well at all. He makes an attempt at appearing casual and asks Suguru where he's going. Suguru gives an inconclusive answer, something to the effect of I'm going out.

Satoru asks so awkwardly, he kind of wants to die as soon as he forces the words from his lips. "Are you... Are you going to see him?"

"Yes," Suguru snaps, terse and irritated. Sad, drunk, probably horny, and now annoyed. Add it to the list.

"Oh." He has no good excuse for keeping Suguru here, no good argument to compel him to stay. He feels so foolish when he says, "Well, I was wondering if you wanted to stay in with me and maybe watch a movie?"

Suguru scowls at him, which is truthfully unexpected. He may be exasperated by Satoru’s antics but usually he's never infuriated enough to be so cold. "Why are you so obsessed with keeping me away from Toji?”

Satoru gapes. He hadn't known he had been that transparent, though in hindsight his distaste for the awful human being is more than obvious. And now Satoru is sitting here thinking, how can he not see it? How can he not see how bad Toji is for him? Maybe he sees it and he just doesn't care.

"What?" Satoru’s voice sounds affronted as it leaves his mouth, but it's weak in a way too, like even the words know he's lying about the incredulity. "I'm not- Why would you think that?"

"Whenever I talk about him you get all weird," Suguru accuses, folding his arms over his chest. He's still scowling but now looks more petulant like a child and it's weird but this is a thing that happens when he's drunk, and god, how is Satoru supposed to deal with this when Suguru is drunk? "And whenever I go out to see him you try so hard to get me to stay here with you. Do you like me or something? Are you jealous?"

"Wh- what?" No. Satoru does not like Suguru as anything more than a friend, at least that's what he has decided to tell himself, and god damn it, this situation is about so much more than that, anyways. Satoru is trying to keep Suguru safe, for f*ck's sake. "No, Sugu, that's not it. What the f*ck. I'm just- He hurts you, Suguru. Why the hell do you keep seeing him?"

"I love him," Suguru argues with conviction. Then, "He loves me."

I'm only sleeping with him because I'm afraid if I say no he won't love me anymore.

God, Satoru is just... Satoru is just furious. He doesn't know what the f*ck to do. Suguru is so desperate to be loved by someone, by anyone, that he will return to a monster time and time again, to offer up his body as some sort of peace treaty, some sort of trade off. Like,

if I let you defile me, will you love me? If I let you have me in the most intimate way, if I let you have everything, will you love me then?

Maybe he doesn't get horny when he's drunk and sad. Maybe he just gets insecure. Maybe that's why he goes back to Toji every time, because he's so afraid that what little love he supposedly has will disappear if he doesn't consistently tend to it by sleeping with him.

"He hurts you," Satoru repeats again, and he's always saying this, isn't he? He hurts you. He hurts you. It never seems to sink in, no matter how many times Satoru tells him. "It doesn't matter if he loves you, or supposedly loves you, Suguru. He hurts you."

Suguru’s eyes are filling with tears, and he stumbles to the side, bumping into the wall slightly. He's more drunk than Satoru thought, and now he's even more worried because with absolutely no inhibition it's so incredibly easy to take advantage of him, and Satoru is so sick of it, so sick of Suguru returning in the middle of the night sobbing, so sick of having to comfort him, so sick of seeing him in pain, so sick of watching him suffer without end.

So he resorts to begging, "Please stay here, Suguru, c'mon. Please don't see him tonight..."

Suguru retreats quickly, pulling himself up from where he was slouching against the wall. He meets Satoru’s gaze with a cold stare, and even colder words. "You can't- You're not my boyfriend, Satoru, you don't get to f*cking decide what I do or don't do."

All the breath leaves Satoru’s lungs. "I'm not- I- What?"

But Suguru is already pushing past him and stumbling out the door, slamming it hard behind him. No longer the shy, tentative roommate but something else entirely.

Something awful, maybe. Something broken.

Chapter 29

Chapter Text

So Suguru is a creature of habit and apparently Satoru is too.

Because Suguru returns late in the night looking f*cked out and utterly depressed in a hysteric sort of way, and Satoru meets him in the hallway and brings him to his bed to hold him close and let Suguru fall into his arms to cry until he falls asleep.

Because Satoru strokes his hair like he always does, twisting his fingers into the messy locks falling at the nape of his neck, and wonders how this came to be.

Because this has happened a million times over, so often that Satoru can predict each situation with incredible accuracy, and yet he has never found a way to break the cycle.

Chapter 30

Chapter Text

He was right about the lust thing, though.

This becomes apparent one night during the subsequent weekend, as Satoru is asleep in his bed after a day of cramming for final exams which begin in two days. They're both so unbelievably stressed and caught up with exams that they haven't even discussed plans for the holiday and it doesn't even cross Satoru’s mind for a moment.

There's a sound that somehow wakes him even though it's quiet and barely there. This is part of what leads Satoru to believe that he's more than aptly attuned to all things Suguru related, most notably his distress.

He opens his eyes and it takes a moment for them to adjust to the darkness but when they do he sees Suguru standing in his doorway, curled in on himself, arms wrapped around his middle. Satoru can't see his face because mostly he's just a silhouette from the dim hallway light. It's frighteningly grim to see him cast in shadow, standing silently at the foot of the bed, unmoving.

“Suguru?”

He sniffles in response, obviously crying. Always crying. It happens too much for it to not be a serious problem.

"Come here..." Satoru sighs. "What's wrong?"

Suguru clambers onto Satoru’s bed and beneath the covers, clinging to Satoru’s side like he can't bare the thought of letting go. Which is ridiculous, frankly.

"I need you," he cries.

Beneath the distress and sadness, how nice it feels to be needed. "I know, Sugu, it's okay. I'm here. It'll be okay."

"No, I mean- I'm horny," he says, and. What?

"What?" Satoru voices, pulling away but Suguru follows, grasping steadfastly at his jumper.

"He doesn't want to see me," Suguru blubbers, sobbing violently. "He- he found someone else and now he doesn't need me, but I still need him and I'm horny and I just need someone to f*ck me-"

"Wait," Satoru interrupts, shushing him with a hand over his mouth, because god is his mind spinning and he has to clarify at least one important detail in order to even begin parsing through this colossal mess. "You're talking about Toji?”

Suguru nods, exhaling heavily through his nose because Satoru’s hand is still covering his mouth.

"Oh," Satoru breathes, dropping his hand and finding himself unable to formulate a real sentence.

"Please f*ck me," Suguru whines, grabbing at Satoru and holding him tightly with worried hands. "Please, please, please-"

But Satoru smells the alcohol on his breath and all of it feels so wrong, so messed up, and Satoru’s heart is jackrabbiting in his chest. And yeah, it doesn't feel great, because Suguru wants to get off but apparently not alone and Satoru is just the means to an end, like some sort of severely messed up sexual objectification.

And like, it brings him back to the past few years when he has been used time and time again as just a body to f*ck, by boyfriends and strangers and really anyone who took an interest in him at all. No matter who he dated, no matter who he met, if they wanted him it was for sex only, and that was... That was messed up. That was probably the worst era of Satoru’s life, and now Suguru is dragging it up again and acting so blase about it—about love and the intimacy of sex—and it's making Satoru so upset he's nearly sick.

“Suguru, no. No. I'm not doing that."

"But-"

"No. No, I'm not- No. Get out of here. Go back to bed."

"Satoru," Suguru whines, like a child, and god, that's so messed up. So messed up.

Satoru shoves Suguru away and he takes the breathy alcohol scent with him.

"No Suguru, f*ck, no. I'm not just- You can't just use me like that."

Suguru stares at him for a long, wavering moment. But Satoru refuses to back down. There is no way he would ever let something so irresponsible happen, regardless of needs and wants.

So Suguru leaves, and Satoru cries because nothing makes sense, and it hasn't made sense for a long time.

Chapter 31

Chapter Text

Suguru apologizes in the morning, saying it isn't any excuse but he was drunk and desperate and really needed someone, or something. And yeah, Satoru gets it, but that doesn't make it any better. Still, he accepts the apology because he really has to study and he can't be constantly focusing on his roommate's insanity all the time.

In fact, it's the first time he wishes he had said no when Shoko asked if Suguru could live with him for a while.

"Are you going home for break?"

"Huh?"

Satoru is lying on the floor, surrounded by papers and textbooks, his mind bogged down by chemical engineering. The good thing is that he's never felt more prepared for his exams; the bad thing is that isn't saying much.

"Are you going home," Suguru repeats, "after exams?"

"Oh. Uh, no." He doesn't have the money for a plane ticket back home. Looking up at Suguru, who is sitting curled up on the couch with his knees to his chest, bare feet on the edge with toenails painted bubblegum pink, Satoru meets his tired brown eyes and asks, "Are you?"

Suguru suddenly looks startled, as if he hadn't expected Satoru to turn the question on him. "Um. No, I'm not."

Satoru nods, smiling gently at him in solidarity. His stomach is still churning from the night before, every nerve in his body on edge, but he's trying to move past it. "Cool, cool. Do you celebrate Christmas?"

"Yeah."

"Well, if you're free for the holiday you're welcome to join me. I'm thinking holiday movies, gingerbread cookies, and takeout."

Suguru smiles slightly too, and it feels like an accomplishment, making Satoru’s stomach flutter. "That sounds lovely. But I was thinking of going on a roadtrip, actually."

"Oh, cool. Where're you going?"

"Not sure yet," Suguru muses, tapping his nails on his sketchpad. "Through the Midwest, probably."

"Illinois?"

He pinches his bottom lip between his fingers like he does when he's nervous or contemplative. "I'd like to avoid it."

Satoru doesn't ask why he'd rather avoid his home state. In fact, he can already presume the answer. "Are you going alone?"

"Yeah."

"Do you have a car?"

"Gonna rent one."

Satoru hums, considering for a moment. Is it a good idea? He decides to go for it. "You know, I have a car, if you wanna use it."

"Oh. Um. That's really... That's really nice of you."

They sit in silence for a long, long while. Satoru’s gaze drifts away from Suguru and back to his notes. He gets lost in chemistry for a little while, running through problem sets and their solutions. Suguru still hasn't resumed sketching.

He taps his fingers on the paper again, and the sound sends prickles of strange pleasure down Satoru’s spine. He looks up at Suguru to catch him already staring. "What?"

"You could... You could come with me, if you want."

Satoru’s mind blanches. "Wait, really?"

Suguru blushes and looks away. "Sorry, of course you wouldn't want- I shouldn't have even asked."

"Wait, Suguru, no. That sounds like it could be really fun. Would you really want me to tag along?"

"I mean, yeah, if you want to."

It's momentous, in a way, to have his shy, guarded roommate asking Satoru to accompany him on his end-of-semester road trip, and it's honestly something he never expected. Unprepared to answer, and having none off the top of his head, Satoru fumbles for a response. It isn't like him to be low on words but it seems with Suguru it's more common for his mind to turn devastatingly blank, even at the simplest request.

This isn't a request, but rather an invitation, and it holds a certain complexity to it that turns Satoru uneasy because he isn't sure how to respond. He tries to imagine spending days in the car with Suguru, driving for hours. It seems like he doesn't even really have a destination in mind, just traveling for the sake of exploration or maybe just getting away. What would they even do together? Listen to the radio? Talk? About what?

It seems unlikely. But Satoru likes Suguru a lot. Too much, sometimes.

Additionally, it's not just that Satoru likes Suguru and enjoys his company—it's that he feels protective of his roommate in an idiosyncratic manner which has been cultivated by nights of cuddling him on the couch and calming him after nightmares.

And even still... it's more than just liking him and it's more than the strangely primal protectiveness which guides his actions around Suguru. It's the fact that no matter how damaged he may be, Suguru is just a generally good person, like a beacon of light in a dull world. Satoru likes good people. Satoru wants to spend time with good people.

"Well," Satoru answers, pausing to swallow and consider his words. "If you're really okay with me tagging along, I'd love to come. I love road trips."

Road trips are fun, but a road trip without a set destination feels like another level of interesting. It's probably not the best idea but then again Satoru thinks of having all this time to spend with Suguru, alone with no distractions. He thinks of all the time they'll have to speak, all the time he'll have to coax Suguru into talking, to crack him open and spill his secrets.

Satoru never considered himself to have a savior complex, but it seems pretty likely when he realizes he wants to help Suguru, wants to save him. And what better way to do that than to spend as much time with him as possible?

Okay, so he'll be the first to admit it's a little ridiculous. It may be an ulterior motive to saying yes to Suguru’s invitation, but it's with good intentions. He's just worried. He just wants to keep him safe.

Chapter 32

Chapter Text

As always, finals week is essentially just five days of hell

Satoru gets up early and stays up late, always studying. The amount of sleep he gets is less than minimal—it's practically nonexistent—and he feels like sh*t. His eyes are burning from exhaustion and the left one keeps twitching. He's pretty sure he's going to keel over and die soon.

Right now, he's sprawled out on the living room floor surrounded by a sea of papers and textbooks. It looks as though a tornado swept through the room. Suguru is sitting on the couch, having a panic attack about his art piece which is nowhere near finished. He continually promises Satoru he's okay, even through the insane amounts of tears pouring down his cheeks like a rainstorm.

It's when Satoru’s entire leg goes numb from how long he's been lying on the floor that he finally decides he's had enough.

"You know what?" He exclaims, shooting up abruptly and then wavering on his feet when his vision almost turns completely black from all the blood rushing to his head.

"What?" Suguru sniffles, looking like he's on the verge of setting flame to the large piece of thick paper he's currently drawing on. He looks murderous, or perhaps suicidal. Both options are horrifying, but either way it looks like he wants to kill someone.

"We need a break," Satoru declares decidedly. He hobbles over to Suguru, mindful of his numb leg which is now tingling uncomfortably, and pulls the paper out of his hands. Suguru protests verbally, whining in exasperation and confusion, though Satoru placates him by setting it carefully on the table.

“Toru stop I need to-"

“Suguru. You've been crying about the positioning of the hand for three hours now. We need to get out of here and calm down for a second."

It's a moment before he acquiesces, but eventually he gives in, wiping at the streams of tears glistening on his face and dripping down his neck. His face is a map full of shiny, beautiful rivulets. "Okay, fine. Where are we going?"

"Dinner. Pizza?"

"What about delivery?"

"No. If I go any longer without leaving this f*cking apartment, I think I might actually die."

Suguru agrees, wiping at his eyes to get rid of the tears, which is something he's quite used to since he cries all the time. There's no reason to get dressed in anything special since they're only going to get pizza, but Satoru does change out of his plaid pajama pants and into regular sweats, while Suguru washes the paint and graphite off his face and makes a futile attempt to fix his greasy, tangled hair.

He looks beautiful still. Even through the awful haze of finals, exhausted and crestfallen, he looks beautiful. Satoru thinks he could roll through the mud and still look gorgeous. He wonders if other people can see it too, or if this soft prettiness is just something Satoru notices.

They head to a cheap pizza place close to their apartment. Since it's dinner time, the restaurant is overflowing with people, and the line to be seated spills out onto the sidewalk. While everyone around them chats conversationally, they wait in comfortable silence. Satoru is so glad they've gotten to the stage of their quasi-friendship where they can exist next to each other without feeling awkward for not saying anything.

While they wait in line, he leans on Suguru and rests his head on his shoulder. In general, Satoru is relatively touchy-feely person, and doesn't mind physical contact with his friends. He doesn't think much of it when he does it, because it's such a common thing for him to do, almost like a reflex. When Suguru puts his arm around him and lightly rests his hand on his shoulder, something warm spills from Satoru heart. It feels like staring at the stars in the night sky, or lying in the summer sun.

It's comfortable. It's nice. It's exactly the break they needed after working for so long. Satoru’s brain is fried, but it feels better when he's not stressing over it and instead laughing along with Suguru as they make stupid jokes and eat pizza in a cramped booth in the corner of a crowded pizzaria. It's nice to have Suguru smiling again after hours of listening to him cry continually without end.

Satoru is rolling his eyes at a stupid pun when he thinks of something that makes him laugh. Suguru asks him why he's suddenly cackling to himself, and he responds, "I can't believe the first time I saw you, you walked into a pole."

"Oh god," he mumbles, covering his face with one large hand, the other busy twirling his straw in his water.

"What was that about?" Satoru asks, still laughing lightly. Not thinking anything of it. He remembers the image of Suguru looking straight ahead and running right into the pole anyway. He wasn't even distracted by anything. It's just so funny to think about.

But then Satoru looks up and sees the uneasy, uncomfortable look on Suguru’s face and he knows he said something wrong. Immediately, he stops laughing and turns concerned.

"What's wrong?"

"I was dissociating."

"What? Right now?"

Suguru bites his thumbnail like he's nervous. Speaking around it, he says, "No. When I..." His voice trails off and he doesn't make an effort to finish his sentence. He looks embarrassed, to say the least. Ashamed, like he hates himself.

And oh. That makes a lot of sense. When Suguru dissociates, nothing feels real, and he loses grip of reality. He walked right into a lamp post while looking directly at it, but not actually seeing it.

Now Satoru feels bad for laughing. He sobers up even more and reaches across the table, trying to grasp at Suguru’s hands. Suguru pulls them away though, defensively, and turns his shoulders inward.

"I'm sorry for laughing, Sugu. I shouldn't've."

"It's alright."

"It's not, though. I'm sorry. I'll pay more attention now. Everything's okay, right?"

"Yeah, I made a fool of myself in front of a ton of people. Hit my head on a pole. Everything's fine."

"I'm sorry," he tries again, trying to work around Suguru’s sarcasm.

There's a long silence where Suguru just stares down at the pizza crust crumbs on the table and fiddles with his crumpled napkin. Satoru watches him uneasily.

"What's it like?"

"Huh?"

"Dissociating, I mean."

"Oh. Ummm... I don't know how to explain it."

"Try," Satoru pleads, grabbing Suguru’s hand as soon as he sets it on the table. He holds tightly before Suguru can pull away. "Please."

He sucks in a deep, arduous breath. "Okay. Um. It's like... I feel really weird and like, disconnected."

"Like an out-of-body experience?"

"Sometimes, I guess. Other times, I just like, lose awareness of my body and it kind of feels like a dream, like nothing's real. Or like, sometimes I can't feel my hands. Sometimes I don't know where I am or what day it is, either."

"Huh."

"It feels like my mind is somewhere else and anything that happens to my body doesn't actually happen to me."

"That's what happened the day I first saw you, before we knew each other?"

"Right. I don't really remember it at all."

"Oh. Not even the girl who helped you afterwards?"

"Someone helped me afterwards..?"

"Umm, yeah," Satoru answers lamely, feeling a fresh wave of concern that settles high in his stomach. Every time he thinks it's bad, Suguru tells him something new and it turns a lot worse.

"Sorry. I know it’s— I know I'm f*cked up. I know I'm insane. I should be in a psych ward or something."

Feeling his heart clench painfully in his chest, Satoru squeezes Suguru’s hands and rubs at them comfortingly. Suguru has nice hands; big palms with long but thin fingers, and bony knuckles that feel pleasing to the touch.

"You're not... Suguru, no. I just..."

"You don't have to lie to me."

"It's more common than you think, Sugu. You're fine. Everything's okay. We'll just... We'll get you help, yeah? And everything will be okay."

Suguru shakes his head, trying to pull his hands away. Satoru clings on tightly, desperate to feel him there, safe and warm and okay.

"The amount of therapists I've been to... I know they can't fix me."

"Are you seeing one right now?"

"No, my last one- I left her just before I met you."

Just before I met you.

Stupidly, Satoru likes that phrase. It makes him feel like he's somehow had an impact on Suguru’s life, like in some way he's important to him. He knows Suguru doesn't mean it that way, but that's what it feels like, and it makes his heart flip unreasonably in his chest.

"And it wasn't helping?"

"No. I don't know. She made me feel so much worse."

"Okay. That's fine, I just. I'll keep my eye out for someone new, yeah? And maybe we can go together if you don't want to go alone?"

"I don't know, um..."

"We'll figure it out. Just- We have to keep trying, yeah?"

Suguru’s quiet for a long moment. He looks down at the table again, and when Satoru scans his gaze over him he realizes his eyes are filling with tears.

"What's wrong?"

"You just... When you say 'we,' that makes me cry. I don't know."

Satoru stills immediately, confused and worried.

"In a good way," Suguru rushes to assure.

Satoru’s shoulders slump with relief. "Okay. Good. You deserve someone on your side, Sugu. We're in this together, if you want me to be a part of this."

Suguru bites his lip, looking like he wants to say something else. Satoru waits patiently for him to say something but it never comes.

"What is it, Sugu?”

He sniffles, rubbing his nose with his hand. His voice is soft when he speaks, gentle and quiet like he's whispering an embarrassing secret. "It's just that no one has ever said that before."

And Satoru doesn't know what to say, so he just squeezes his hands tighter and hopes something comforting is conveyed through the gesture. It's all they have.

Chapter 33

Chapter Text

The night after finals are finished, Suguru falls asleep on the hardwood floor of Satoru’s bedroom.

He had been helping Satoru pack for their road trip, since he had already finished gathering his own belongings. Satoru was in the process of jamming his bag closed as best he could when he looked to the floor and saw Suguru as he is now, sprawled out on the floor and totally conked out.

The thing is, nothing is more adorable than Suguru’s sleeping face. His visage is completely at ease, eyebrows unfurrowed and lips relaxed. When he has nightmares he'll purse them into a pout, so that's how Satoru knows he's either having a good dream, or not dreaming at all. Both possibilities are better than the alternative, which involves a distressed Suguru screaming and thrashing.

He finishes packing and then collapses back on his bed, ready to fall asleep. He can't leave Suguru on his floor but he doesn't want to wake him up, either. He doesn't want to disturb the peace. So he stares at the ceiling and thinks about the mess of things in his mind. Mostly, his feelings for Suguru.

This morning, Satoru woke up to the gentle sound of Suguru cooing at Clifford in the hallway, petting his fluffy fur and scratching behind his ears. Even after he got dressed and walked out of his bedroom, Suguru was still there, lying on the wood floor of the hallway, giggling as Clifford attacked his face in kisses.

"Gross, get a room," Satoru had joked, poking Suguru in the tummy with his toe. That made Suguru shriek and squirm away even as the labradoodle continued to maul him with affection.

Thinking about it now, Satoru has to cover his face with his hands to muffle his groan. It's just that Suguru fits into his life so well, it's difficult to remember sometimes that this arrangement isn't permanent. He simply offered up the extra room in his apartment to a friend of a friend in order to help him get back on his feet after a bad breakup. But now that he's in so deep it's clear that the situation is not what it seems.

They're leaving early tomorrow morning to spend entire days in a car together, traveling to the Midwest for God knows what. Satoru has to sort out his feelings before then or else he's afraid something bad will happen. But he's so confused and conflicted, he doesn't even know where to begin.

Suguru trusts him, for one. That seems like a good place to start unpacking all the complexities of the situation. Suguru trusts him and trust is the basis of any interpersonal relationship, right? Trust is important. Trust is the basic building block of camaraderie or love. Trust is essential and it's not easy to come by. Satoru has worked hard the past few months to get Suguru to trust him.

Trust means breaking down one's walls and letting someone in. Trust means being honest and open. Perhaps they're still far from honest and open, but they're getting there. They're making progress. Satoru is confident in the progression of their friendship and he's hoping that someday soon Suguru will tell him about more about the storm inside his mind.

It feels special that Suguru is letting him in because as far as Satoru can tell, and from what he's heard from Shoko and witnessed himself, Suguru is a very closed-off person. This makes Satoru feel important and needed. Even if Suguru isn't feeling very inclined to talk about what's going on, he'll almost always let Satoru sit close to him on the couch as they read, study, or watch TV in comfortable silence. He doesn't mind the proximity and he feels comfortable enough with Satoru to rest his head on his shoulder or his lap and fall asleep.

And then there are the nightmares, from which Satoru always tries to comfort him. He knows for a fact that Shoko never did such a thing and it seems unlikely that anyone else in Suguru’s life ever rocked him back and forth or sang to him just to calm him down.

There are the moments when Suguru dissociates and his mind drifts far away, whenever he's having a particularly bad day or something triggers his recollection of something painful from the past. When they were eating greasy pizza and trying not to stress over their exams, Suguru said he has been experiencing dissociation for years but no one has ever said anything about it. That makes Satoru the only to have noticed or cared enough to ask him about it and make sure he's okay.

However, the nightmares, the dissociation, the shaking hands, the faraway look in his eyes—the trauma of it all—are not all there is to Suguru Geto as a person. He is not his fear. He is not his past. The abuse, and the subsequent aftermath of the abuse, is not all he is comprised of.

One of Suguru’s biggest passions is art. Even though it's been stressing him out lately due to the final exams and projects of his courses, it's obvious that art is a great relief and release in his life. He is, at any given time, almost always sketching, painting, taking photographs, glueing collages, staring at color palettes, or doodling on random scraps of paper. In fact, Satoru finds his doodles in the most random places: scribbled on the backs of receipts, scrawled onto the shopping list on the fridge, even sketched onto the cardboard boxes he brought with him when he moved into the apartment. He draws whatever comes to mind, like flowers or bees or swirling spirals. He has an affinity for sketching both trees and sea creatures. Art is his favorite hobby, his best talent, his absolute passion.

Satoru admires that. More than anything, maybe. He sees the way Suguru gets lost in his own world when he's creating something. Lips pursed and brows furrowed, eyes set and concentrated on what's in front of him. He sees this and it makes him ache with adoration because there's something to be admired about focusing on something that appears small and insignificant, about creating something just for the sake of making the world more beautiful.

He hasn't even hit the tip of the iceberg yet about why he likes Suguru when it hits him: he likes Suguru. It's a surprisingly startling revelation, given the fact that in hindsight it seems quite obvious.

Suguru is cute, sweet, and kind, and he always apologizes when he bumps into things even if it's just a doorframe or the coffee table. He has this old jean jacket, a thrift store find, which he fills with patches and pins of rainbows, animals, band names and lyrics. When they're out at the bar with Shoko, Utahime, and Nanami, he talks a lot about the most random things, even when no one's really listening. When he's nervous, he bites his nails, jitters his knees, and plays with his rings or the cross necklace he never takes off. When he's outside, no matter the weather, he tilts his head back and admires the sky.

And a few days ago on the first day of finals, Satoru walked out of his exam to find Suguru waiting there against the wall, looking rumpled with sleep, and holding a takeout bag in his hands.

"What're you doing here?" Satoru had asked, a bit frazzled after his exam, his mind scattered. The sight of Suguru waiting outside of his classroom wearing sweats and snow boots, looking like the perfect cuddle partner, did nothing to ease his confusion.

Suguru had lifted the bag in response before dragging Satoru outside to a secluded spot on the wide marble stairs leading up to an academic building, where they sat and ate sandwiches despite the snow and the freezing wind. Halfway through their lunch, Suguru had finally explained that he tracked Satoru down after his exam because he knew he probably wasn't going to eat lunch that day. It was an unexpected but wholly lovely experience.

And just yesterday they were walking Clifford in the park when this little girl came flying by, chasing after her brother. There was a frozen puddle turned into a patch of ice right on the edge of the path, which caused her to slip and go crashing to the ground. Suguru had been so gentle with her, kneeling by her side and helping her up as Satoru looked for the little girl's caregiver. Immediately upon impact she had burst into tears, but Suguru had managed to make her laugh within minutes. All the while Satoru stood by and watched with admiration and envy, desperately trying not to think of how great a father Suguru would make.

Right. So the crux is that Suguru is a great person and Satoru may perhaps like him more than he likes the average person. He may perhaps want to get to know Suguru, in a more-than-platonic way.

It's difficult for Satoru to admit this to himself because he hasn't liked anyone in a long, long time. Not since his stupid f*cking ex-boyfriend posted compromising pictures of Satoru all over every social media platform in all of creation. Ever since then he's been sleeping around with awful men because that's what's expected of him.

Right after the stupid pictures were posted and everyone began avoiding him like the plague, he isolated himself and fell into an uncharacteristic depression that worried his mother the most. It took months for him to finally be okay enough with himself to start "dating" again but as it turns out, only the worst people were still interested in him after his reputation was absolutely demolished. For a short period of time, he went on a large amount of dates, all with different people, and put out every time because in a sick way he was afraid to disappoint people. Lately, he hasn't been out to a club since Suguru moved in and he doesn't really know what to make of that.

Guys gloat about dating him because of his reputation as someone who's "easy" or a "slu*t" but no one ever wants to keep him. Apparently he's only good for a f*ck or two and then he's useless, tossed away and discarded like trash or something worse. He has at the time unknowingly helped too many people cheat and there's a certain sort of heavy guilt that hangs in his heart when he's reminded of this momentously truthful fact. In terms of grossly deep honesties about himself, Satoru is genuinely afraid that no one will ever love him.

And certainly not Suguru. Suguru who is so beautiful and compassionate and perfectly unattainable. Suguru who could get any guy in the world but for some incomprehensible reason is so absolutely enamored by the one man on earth who is so awful he may actually be the devil himself.

Satoru sighs and opens his eyes, peering over the edge of the bed towards Suguru’s sleeping figure on the floor. He's lying on his stomach, with his limbs splayed out in the form of a starfish and his face is turned to the side facing Satoru. His head is a mess of dark locks, some of them obscuring his visage, still damp from his shower earlier in the evening.

With each breath, the broad expanse of his back rises and falls rhythmically. The thin gray t-shirt stretched over his torso gives Satoru the opportunity to admire the muscles of his back, and he stares with a weird sort of longing that makes him feel a bit creepy when he looks back at Suguru’s face and is greeted with his calm expression again.

Satoru allows himself one more longing look over Suguru’s body, cataloging the dip of his waist, the curve of his ass, and the length of his legs, before he stands up and approaches him. Suguru has a history of back problems and it's important that he sleeps on an actual mattress instead of the floor. With this in mind, Satoru rubs his shoulder and prods at him until he opens his sleepy eyes and looks blearily at Satoru.

"What's going on?" He asks, rubbing at his cheek.

"It's about two o'clock in the morning and you're laying on my bedroom floor."

"Oh. Sorry."

Satoru waves his hand noncommittally. "I'm just worried about your back, 's all."

Suguru smiles sleepily at him before stumbling to a standing position. Satoru expects him to leave then, but he doesn't. Instead, he walks slowly across the room, peels back the duvet, and slips in between the sheets of Satoru’s bed.

All the while, Satoru watches with his mouth open. Suguru doesn't seem to have any qualms.

"What are you doing?"

"Your bed is so much comfier," Suguru mumbles, before pulling the sheets up to his chin and snuggling in. Satoru groans.

Perhaps he has the option of joining Suguru, seeing as it is his bed and all. But realistically, he doesn't see how he can share a bed with him without either losing his self-restraint or turning to dust from want.

He's exhausted, though.

He ends up sleeping on the floor.

Chapter 34

Chapter Text

"So what's the plan, kiddo?"

Suguru grimaces at him around his coffee mug, looking peacefully well-rested despite the early hour of the morning. It's seven o'clock and his eyes are bright, reflecting the pale morning light seeping in through the windows of the kitchen.

It's snowing outside, in thick heavy flakes that are collecting on the city streets. Though they've both lived in cold weather all their lives, it would be a lie to say they aren't at least a little concerned about driving nearly a thousand miles in the winter weather.

"You always call me that."

"We've discussed this already. I call everyone 'kiddo.'"

Besides, you like it, he doesn't say.

"You don't, though."

"Yeah, you're right. It's just you." Satoru is in the process of fiddling with the GPS system they're using instead of their phones, when he turns around and looks back at Suguru to see him pouting. "What?"

"I just- I don't know."

"Do you want me to call you something else?"

"No, but like. Um. I don't know."

"Okay. Good talk. Now where are we going exactly?"

Their final destination is Elmhurst, Illinois, the small town in which Suguru grew up. Earlier when Satoru had asked, Suguru had said he'd "like to avoid it" but Satoru knew then and there that he wasn't giving the full answer. Of course the road trip had a destination, but perhaps one that Suguru wasn't very enthusiastic about. Satoru still doesn't know why Suguru wants to return for the holidays, since he seems to hate it so much, but he's hoping he can get an answer out of him during their nineteen hour drive to Illinois.

It's going to take nineteen hours because Suguru wants to drive through West Virginia and Kentucky instead of traveling due West straight to Elmhurst. Satoru has never been to either West Virginia nor Kentucky, and he's not sure there's anything notable to see in either state. On the way back, they'll drive through Indiana, Ohio, and Pennsylvania.

"We're spending the night in Charleston," Suguru finally answers, finally past Satoru calling him kiddo. "It's about an eight hour drive."

"Alright, let's get going then."

Suguru offers to drive the first leg, which means Satoru gets the pleasure of dozing off with his head against the window before they make a stop at McDonald's. Suguru orders one breakfast sandwich with egg for Satoru, a yogurt parfait for himself, two hash browns, and two small coffees, black. At the last second he adds a chocolate milkshake.

They eat while they drive. This results in Suguru breaking off bits of Suguru’s hash brown and feeding it to him by hand, making them both laugh. They share the milkshake, passing it back and forth between them, no care for germs.

The snow is just beginning, so the roads are okay right now but in a little while they won't be. Satoru feels better knowing they're traveling south, where the weather hopefully won't be as bad.

"Tell me something, Sugu."

"Huh?"

"Tell me something about you."

"Okay, ummm. I lied."

"What?"

"I lied. I'm not vegetarian."

"I'm confused."

"I'm pollotarian."

"You say that like I know what it means."

"It means I'm mostly vegetarian, but sometimes I eat meat."

Satoru is intrigued. "When have you eaten meat recently?"

"I dunno, but sometimes I forget and I eat it without thinking."

"But you're essentially vegetarian."

"I try to be."

"Huh."

"I feel bad about it."

Satoru looks over at him and can't help the fond smile that overtakes his face. Sometimes Suguru is just too much, in a good way. Too pure for this world.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"You're lovely."

"Don't be weird."

"Just being honest," Satoru laughs. Far too endeared for just friends.

Chapter 35

Chapter Text

By the time they arrive in Charleston, they're both so exhausted they feel like falling asleep right away.

Satoru bites the bullet and offers to check them into the hotel while Suguru waits in the car. It takes forever, for no apparent reason except that the receptionist behind the front desk seems to be in no hurry at all. Not that Satoru is in a hurry, really, but he does want to check into his hotel room during this century at least.

Finally he returns to the car with two new key cards and a room assignment. They gather only the bags they need for the night and carry them inside. While taking the elevator, Suguru rests his head on Satoru's shoulder and yawns.

The room is nice simply because it looks clean, and it has two beds as requested. Suguru collapses on the bed nearer to the window and doesn't get up again. Satoru takes a hot shower and by the time he gets out and is drying off, Suguru still hasn't moved. He's asleep on top of the duvet, curled up like he's cold.

Since he's already wearing comfy clothes from the car ride, there's no reason to change into pajamas. Satoru maneuvers him around in bed until he can pull the blankets over him to keep him warm. Suguru snuffles into the sheets and burrows further into their comfort, but he stays asleep. Satoru pets his hair and watches him for a moment before slipping into his own bed, not bothering to get dressed.

He turns out the light, and falls asleep.

Chapter 36

Chapter Text

The next morning, Suguru is still sleepy so Satoru drives first.

He's full from a standard hotel breakfast, and hyped up on slightly watery coffee. Suguru is curled up in the passenger's seat and every so often Satoru steals glances at him because he looks really cute like this: relaxed, calm, and trusting enough to fall asleep as Satoru drives.

"You feeling okay?" Satoru wonders once Suguru is semi-awake, a few hours later.

Suguru rubs his eyes and nods. "I dunno, I just feel exhausted."

"Leftover stress from exams?"

"Maybe."

"Well it's over now; we're on break. It's okay to relax."

"I guess."

"Excited for the caves?"

When they get to Kentucky, they're staying overnight and the next morning they're going to drive out to a place called Mammoth Caves National Park, to hopefully do a tour of an underground cave system. It was Suguru’s idea and usually Satoru isn't a fan of touristy activities like this, but it actually seems pretty cool.

"Yep," Suguru sighs, rubbing at his face.

Satoru allows a moment of contemplation, giving Suguru the opportunity to speak. One of these days he'll trust Satoru enough to be honest with him, but apparently today is not that day. Satoru keeps his eyes trained on the road ahead. "Tell me what's wrong, Sugu."

"I miss him."

"Who?"

"Toji."

The breath is knocked straight from Satoru's lungs, and he fights to remain unaffected. "Oh. Do you want to talk about it?"

"Umm..."

"It's alright if you don't want to. But it might help if you say it out loud."

If you say it out loud, I can hold some of your grief too. Let me make it less heavy.

"What happened, Sugu?"

Suguru nods slowly and Satoru thinks he isn't going to say anything at all but then he speaks. It sounds like he's forcing the words out but it's a start and Satoru feels simple relief wash over him like ocean waves.

"He found someone else. And I know... I mean, I've always known I wasn't enough, but every time I'm reminded it just hurts like hell. I hate the idea of being obsessed with someone, it's so pathetic, especially because he's an awful person but I can't help it. I really love him, even still. I always will."

"Why do you love him, though? I mean, if you know he's awful," Satoru whispers.

Suguru shakes his head. "I just do."

If he said the truth, it would sound something like this: His love is all I deserve, if I deserve love at all. I don't deserve to be loved by someone good.

Satoru can hear it, though it isn't said aloud. He doesn't look at Suguru again but he does take his hand off the wheel and wrap it around Suguru’s, squeezing tight. Both their hands are cold, but they warm up together.

There's a metaphor there. Something symbolic.

Chapter 37

Chapter Text

That night is when everything turns to disaster.

They have beers at dinner which is their first mistake. Suguru is already tipsy by the time they get to the hotel, which they find out has a bar. Suguru drags Satoru to it, and Satoru nurses one drink while Suguru has several. By the end of the night Suguru is being hit on by the man sitting on the other side of him, and Suguru is taking it like a champ, giggling and fluttering his eyelashes. God damn flirting with him.

It makes Satoru nervous. He doesn't trust anyone with Suguru, let alone a stranger. Especially since he knows Suguru can't really take care of himself; he always gets into trouble and gets hurt, and Satoru is the one left to pick up the pieces and put him back together.

Besides, this man in particular looks like trouble. Satoru can't help but scowl at him. He's at least thirty years old and wearing the most pristine suit Satoru has ever seen. Definitely here on a business trip, and definitely married. He hasn't even bothered to take off his wedding band. And yet Suguru is still leaning in and hanging onto every word he says. It's sickening.

The interaction ends in a proposition to which Suguru agrees, but says he needs to go to his hotel room first and he'll be right back. Satoru follows him, only after he glares at the married man, of course.

"What the f*ck are you doing?" Satoru asks in a harsh whisper as they're waiting for the elevator.

The doors open and Suguru steps inside with purpose. Satoru follows and then they're together in a confined space and Suguru smells so heavily like alcohol, it's dizzying.

"Making friends," he mutters, the sounds blurring into one another. More than tipsy, on his way to full out drunk.

"Do you really think that's a good idea?"

Suguru glares at him. "You're not stopping me from getting laid."

They somehow make it to the hotel room, still arguing back and forth. Their voices elevate to yelling. The door slams behind them and Satoru locks it. He feels frantic.

"You're drunk and you're going to get hurt."

"I'll be fine."

Satoru groans frustratedly. If he were younger he would throw a temper tantrum but right now he's the responsible one between the two of them so he has to keep it together and set the right example. "Please stay here."

"Only if you f*ck me."

There's a silence so heavy the sound of a pin dropping could be heard. Satoru’s jaw actually drops open. "What?"

"I'll stay here, only if you f*ck me," Suguru repeats very slowly and deliberately, and it's clear that what he said isn't a mistake.

“Suguru, no."

He begins unlocking the door and then sets his hand on the handle, ready to turn it. "You sure?" There's no response so he begins to leave. The door swings closed behind him and rings in the silence.

Satoru is happy to see him go. Good riddance. At least that's what he tells himself to quell the fear in his heart. He stands there for a moment, dumbfounded and trying to justify not running after Suguru.

And then he thinks of Suguru, the beautiful but vulnerable human being who has a tendency to get hurt and an affinity for bad people who like to hurt him, rather than help him. The man at the bar seemed like an average, everyday person but that isn't to say the typical human being isn't awful.

The guilt creeps in on top of the fear and anxiety. If Suguru gets hurt... It's Satoru’s fault, no matter what. Because he has a chance right now to stop it from happening altogether.

"Wait," Satoru gasps, feeling gross and heavy for being so easily manipulated. He swings the door open and calls down the hall, feeling like an exasperated idiot, "Wait, hang on!"

Suguru stops partway down the hall. They stare at each other for a long moment, Satoru heaving anxiously, taking in shallow breaths because he's so worried.

He must see how much he has Satoru wrapped around his little finger because he walks slowly down the hall, approaching Satoru, looking like he's fighting to keep his expression neutral. Like he's fighting back a smirk. Satoru backs into the room and lets Suguru in too.

Suguru lets the door close again, raising his eyebrows. "If I stay, you f*ck me. If you don't f*ck me, I'm leaving, and he'll f*ck me. Got it?"

"Okay, okay," Satoru mutters, defeated. He pulls Suguru away from the door and then sits down on the edge of the bed, exhausted. "Jesus, you're so f*cked up." He doesn't even feel bad for saying it because it's true, and Satoru is cornered into doing something he isn't comfortable with for the sake of keeping Suguru safe and if that isn't f*cked up he doesn't know what is.

"You'll really do it?" He sounds incredulous. Satoru gets it.

"Yeah, whatever the f*ck you want. I'm done." He really does feel done. Finished. Over it. "Just tell me what the f*ck you want."

Suguru smiles at him a little and sits down on the bed. "I want you to f*ck me so hard I'll feel it for days."

Satoru can't believe he's doing this. He's not happy about it. His hands are shaking but he's good at hiding it. Suguru seems to like someone who's rough, which is good because Satoru is in no mood to be sweet or gentle. He's in no mood for anything at all, really, anything that involves sex and Suguru in the same sentence.

It's not that he doesn't like Suguru. It's not that Suguru isn't attractive. It's just that if he ever even allowed himself to think about being intimate with Suguru, he never would've imagined it would happen this way. In his fantasies, perhaps they would be in Satoru’s bed, making slow romantic love. Kissing and touching each other. Being gentle. Exploring. Loving.

Instead, they're in a mediocre hotel in Cave City, Kentucky and Suguru is threatening to leave unless Satoru f*cks him. Whatever that entails, it's manipulative and awful.

The only time Satoru has ever touched Suguru’s bare skin, really, is when he had to dress him when he was drunk or that one time after the shower. No matter the situation, the intentions were not sexual, but rather to care for him.

Now, though, Satoru is faced with real intimacy and he's not sure if he can do it. He knows he shouldn't.

And of course it's not very intimate, and might even feel a bit clinical, to just f*ck him until he's calm. But it's undeniably sexual and it unnerves Satoru.

Again, he isn't in the mood to be gentle. He's kind of pissed off, actually. And Suguru is just looking at him expectantly.

"Get undressed."

Suguru looks like he wasn't expecting a direct order. Like, in fact, he thought Satoru would do it for him. "What?"

"Take your clothes off," Satoru snaps. "Do you have any lube?"

"In my bag," he responds, eyes wide. "The front pocket."

Satoru retrieves it and rejoins Suguru on the bed. He's still in the process of undressing, currently sliding his sweats down his hips. His shirt is already off, pale skin on display. Satoru is hardly even looking. It's a process: undress him, f*ck him, tire him out and keep him satisfied so he doesn't leave in search of that man at the bar.

"How do you want me?"

Satoru thinks of whichever position will require more energy and thus tire him and satisfy him more quickly. When he says it he realizes Suguru might think he wants him like this for his own personal pleasure, but that's not true. "Hands and knees," he says eventually, his voice surprisingly steady and even. "And get these off, too."

Suguru gaps at him for a moment like he didn't think Satoru would ever actually step up and take charge. He pulls down his underwear and kicks them off. Satoru makes a hurry up motion with his hand and Suguru obliges, clambering onto his hands and knees so he's facing the headboard. So submissive, so ready to do whatever he's told. It makes Satoru feel sick.

Sitting behind him on the bed, he inhales shakily and tries to calm his pounding heart. It's just that the sight of Suguru in front of him, so bare and vulnerable, is wholly too much. He's waiting patiently, unmoving, head down. Submissive, because isn't he always? Satoru stares at him for a moment, trying to take it all in and not freak out at what he's about to do.

There's the pale skin of his thighs, but when he looks closer he notices blemishes he doesn't recognize. There are little circles, perhaps the size of dimes, littering the insides of his thighs, marking the otherwise pure and untouched skin. They're old, completely healed, and Satoru is so confused but he doesn't even consider asking. He's too entranced, and now is not the time. It might never be the time.

Without thinking about it, he drags his finger down the path of the scars, and Suguru flinches, inhaling sharply, but doesn't say anything. Satoru fingers at one of them, high up on his thigh, near the cleft of his bum. Suguru is surprisingly curvy, for how tall and lanky he is, and it's nice to be able to admire his body for what it's worth.

He can hear Suguru’s breathing, and how it becomes more labored the more he touches him. He explores only a little bit, getting used to the feel of Suguru’s skin beneath his hands. He's warm, as he always is, which is nice because Satoru feels demoralizingly cold right now, in a way that has less to do with the actual temperature of the room and more to do with how he feels inside.

He runs his hands on the backs of Suguru’s thighs again, up to his butt and squeezing, before caressing his lower back and pulling away.

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Yes," Suguru hisses, "Hurry the f*ck up."

It seems all out of order because usually sex starts with kissing, and yet they've barely even touched and Suguru is already naked. It's completely one sided, Satoru is receiving no pleasure from this and he isn't asking for any. He's fully clothed and only planning on using his hand to pleasure Suguru. It's incredibly wrong but it's kind of too late to back out now and he won't risk Suguru leaving to find someone else to do this to him.

"Alright." Satoru sits back on his heels but keeps a possessive hand on Suguru’s ankle. "I want you to f*ck yourself with your fingers."

"What?"

"Do I have to repeat myself?" Satoru asks coldly.

As expected, Suguru responds well to authoritarian rule and harsh commands. Satoru can already imagine what he's actually like in bed. He could've guessed ages ago that Suguru likes to be dominated. At this point, it's more than obvious.

Suguru fumbles around a bit, but Satoru can tell he really is trying to be good and obedient, so he helps him out by slicking up his fingers for him with the lube. It's definitely a challenge for him from this angle, since he has to reach completely behind himself to slip his fingers inside, and he can't open himself up with his other hand since he's using that one to balance.

He manages, of course, and it's definitely a show to watch. Satoru can't help but stroke his ankle comfortingly as he whines about not being able to get his fingers in deep enough, though. The soft noises he makes are entirely too much for him to handle.

There's something strange about watching him struggle that makes something burning hot unfurl deep in Satoru’s stomach. It's concerning, so he ignores it, though the feeling is hard to be overlooked. There's a sick sort of pleasure in it, in seeing the desperate desire to please and the way it makes Suguru frantic, trying so hard to follow Satoru’s orders and be good for him.

"Add another," he orders quietly when Suguru is only two fingers deep, pumping them in and out slowly and shallowly.

"I can't," Suguru gasps, whimpering, "Too tight." Each time he pulls his fingers out the make a slick, wet sound that would be gross or embarrassing if the sight wasn't so hot.

"You can," Satoru retorts, "and you will." But still he gives Suguru a few more moment of just using his two fingers, waiting patiently as he opens himself up. He isn't about to hurt him for real; that would just be counterproductive. The coldness is only a front and deep inside Satoru is worried he's being too cruel. But still he gives orders as if he knows what in the hell he's doing. In reality, he's really just making it up as he goes and praying for the best. "Scissor your fingers. Spread yourself open."

His two fingers are hardly in deep enough but he listens to Satoru and does it anyways, spreading them apart and whining at the stretch. When Satoru is pretty sure Suguru is open enough for a third finger, at least so that it won't hurt him, he migrates closer and squeezes his own finger in beside Suguru’s.

It's strange because it's such an intimate thing, given the most they've ever done is hugged each other, really. Now Satoru’s finger is inside of him, beside two of Suguru’s own, and he feels the warm heat that makes him fantasize a bit about what it would feel like to really be in him.

Suguru gasps at the unexpected intrusion and moans loudly when Satoru cricks his finger, rubbing against his wall for no reason other than to coax a reaction out of him. Suguru’s hand stills and he makes no effort to move at all, probably trying to adjust.

Satoru doesn't want to give him time to adjust. He wants this to be over as soon as possible because the quicker that happens, the quicker they might be able to go back to some sense of normalcy. As if normalcy will even be a possibility after Suguru c*ms on Satoru’s fingers.

So he pulls his finger out and grabs Suguru’s wrist to get him to do the same. His hole flutters at the sudden emptiness but Satoru ignores it, coating his own fingers in lube and telling Suguru, "Get a hand on yourself and jack yourself off."

He presses his thumb to Suguru’s pink hole, rubbing on the rim until Suguru does as he's told and starts pulling at his dick, which Satoru can't see from this position and frankly doesn't care to see. He's sure it's beautiful, just like the rest of Suguru, even the mysterious blemishes on his thighs. Satoru gets distracted by them again but pulls himself out of it by pressing two fingers in deep without warning. It probably isn't a nice thing to do and under different circ*mstances Satoru would be much gentler, taking his time and really making sure Suguru is okay.

He feels guilty when Suguru gasps louder this time at the surprise, following it up with a low moan as Satoru presses in as deep as he can, which happens to be further than Suguru can ever do by himself, due to the angle which is difficult to work with. He only pumps his fingers twice before adding in a third one and swirling them around to stretch him out. Suguru clenches around him, and Satoru stills a little, wondering if it hurts.

"Alright?"

"f*ck," he groans, slipping down so he's resting on his forearm instead of his hand. He's still stroking his dick just as he was told to do, the movement of his hand visible to Satoru between the gap in his thighs and Satoru watches as his long fingers curl around himself softly. Either he likes it gentle or he's extremely sensitive. He rocks his hips back against Satoru’s hand insistently. "f*ck, go harder, go harder."

Now isn't the time to deny him. Satoru goes back to two fingers so it won't hurt, and f*cks in and out of him at an increasingly fast pace, not stopping even when he should, even when Suguru gasps like he can't catch his breath. Suguru’s entire body shudders at the feeling and his thighs won't stop shaking. He collapses down so his face is pressed into the pillow, arms completely giving out, his ass still up in the air as Satoru pounds his fingers into it. It's an absolutely filthy sight and Satoru can hardly stand to watch. In a few minutes Suguru is nearly screaming because Satoru has managed to hit his prostate, and hit it again, and again, and again.

Wrist feeling sore, he takes a small break to bury his fingers in deep and rub relentlessly at Suguru’s spot until he begs him to stop, his hand frantically jerking off his dick. He's breathing so hard he's nearly hyperventilating, and every so often he moans Satoru’s name in his deep f*cked out voice and it makes Satoru want to go back to f*cking him harder with his fingers so he does, adding the third one in again and vowing not to stop until Suguru c*ms.

The sounds filling the room are obscene, both Suguru’s moans and the sound of Satoru’s lubed fingers pounding in and out of his hole, which is red and flushed now, obviously sensitive. Suguru is full out shaking, about ready to collapse completely to the mattress. His skin is radiating heat and splotchy red in some places, a sharp contrast to his snowy paleness. Satoru’s free hand smoothes over his skin and gropes at his ass hard enough to leave marks from his nails like tiny crescent moons.

"Look at you, f*cking taking it like you know it's all you're meant to do," Satoru grits out, desperate just to get Suguru to finish but somehow lost in it too, lost in being harsh and relentless, f*cking him so hard with just his fingers, not letting up even when he begs so he'll feel it for days. Suguru is crying out now, and it sounds like he's sobbing, overcome with it all. "You f*cking like that don't you? Filthy slu*t, you like the idea that you're only good for sex? That all you're worth is your pretty pink hole?"

Suguru is moaning so loud now and sobbing too, and it sounds like he's choking but Satoru f*cks him harder still, pushing his fingers in at a punishing pace.

Satoru has no idea where all the dirty talk is coming from, and frankly he hadn't known he had it in him. Not that he doesn't like dirty talk or participate in it, but what he just said feels particularly filthy. It's nuanced, too, with a strange dynamic he's never dealt with before.

Suguru seems to be reacting well to it though and that's all that really matters. Satoru might be concerned about what he just said but Suguru seems to like it, with the way he's moaning and crying and doing everything in pleasure, like he just can't keep it all inside.

Only fifteen minutes after they started, Suguru cries out and comes so hard it sends pulses through his body. His muscles clench, toes curl, and his thighs squeeze shut with Satoru’s fingers still buried deep in him, pressing hard against his prostate. He collapses forward even more and buries his face in the pillow, muffling his breathing. His cum messes the sheets, making them filthy.

Satoru keeps his fingers in, worried of hurting him by pulling them out before he's ready. Suguru is relaxed around him now, every so often clenching and it takes all Satoru has not to imagine the warm heat around a different part of his body that isn't his hand. Eventually he bites the bullet and just pulls them out, wincing at the sound of Suguru’s shocked gasp at the feeling. In apology, Satoru pets his ass as a form of placation, rubbing soothingly.

"Jesus f*cking Christ," Suguru huffs, limbs splayed over the mattress, unmoving.

Satoru smooths his hand down his lower back, moving lower to rub comfortingly over the curve of his ass again. He's still so pissed off that Suguru manipulated him into doing this, backed him against the wall and cornered him.

But then he realizes Suguru is crying, with tear tracks covering his face, dripping down his chin, making him glisten. He looks utterly f*cked: eyes red and puffy, skin splotchy, face wet from all the sobbing. And like... Satoru did that. And he feels awful, even though it's exactly what Suguru asked for.

"You alright?"

Suguru laughs quietly to himself, sniffling and wiping at his face too. The sound of his laughter, albeit out of place, makes Satoru relax at least a little bit. "You just f*cked me into the next dimension and you're really asking if I'm alright?"

Satoru laughs a little as well, figuring that if Suguru can string a sentence together right now, he's fine. "Just checking." He sighs, eyeing the pink circles maring Suguru’s thighs. "We should get you in the shower, you're all sweaty."

"And cum-y,” Suguru adds, snuggling his face into the sheets. He's surprisingly happy after crying over three fingers in his ass and an org*sm that left him shaking like a dog. "If you want me to get up you're gonna have to carry me ‘cause 'm not goin’ anywhere."

"Or I can just push you off the bed."

"Good luck gettin’ me off the floor..” He mumbles quietly, his voice showing the beginning signs of someone who's falling asleep. "You think I wouldn't sleep on the floor?"

"C'mon, you lazy ass, you're really going to sleep in a puddle of your own cum?”

"Mm, don't care."

"You're disgusting." Satoru rolls him off the side of the bed but manages to catch him and stand him up before he falls over and hits the floor. With a hand around his bare waist, Satoru walks him to the bathroom and props him up against the shower wall. "There you go."

"Will you wash me?"

"Do I have to do everything for you?"

"Nevermind. I'll get that man from the bar to help me instead."

"f*ck off. You're ridiculous." Even as Satoru steps this, he's already stripping down to his boxers and closing the shower door behind him. If anything, tonight is the perfect proof that he can't say no to Suguru.

Already having been well acquainted with Suguru’s naked body, this doesn't bother him very much. In fact, unlike other times, he even lets himself enjoy it a little bit, as he runs his hands up and down Suguru’s sides and wipes away the come on his stomach with a soapy washcloth. He figures since he's already seen Suguru on his hands and knees for him, practically presenting, it's okay for him to admire his body a bit right now. Even though it does feel slightly depraved, because this is the person he has been caring for and protecting for months.

"Will you wash my hair for me?"

"Only if you sit down. You’re almost as damn tall as me and I'm not hurting my arms washing your hair."

Suguru smiles gratefully and takes a seat on the tile floor, right in front of Satoru and facing him. He's still sniffling a little but Satoru hopes the warm water will calm him down and get him to stop crying.

Glad he decided not to strip all the way down, Satoru is relieved he still has his boxers on because he doesn't think he'd be able to stand the sight of a f*cked-out-looking Suguru sitting in front of him, staring up at him expectantly, at eye-level with his dick. No man is strong enough to survive such a sight.

So he lathers up Suguru’s hair with shampoo and takes his time massaging his scalp and washing his hair, making sure it feels good.

Fifteen minutes later, they're drying off and getting ready to get in bed. Tonight, they'll be sharing, since one of the beds is completely uninhabitable due to Suguru’s cum being everywhere. Suguru doesn't seem to mind sharing a bed with him so Satoru follows suit and tries not to mind either. He's just going with the flow.

It's hard, though, when Suguru is wearing shorts that are really, really short. Like, so short that his ass is hanging out, the lower curve of his ass visible and tantalizing. He forgoes a shirt, too, and he must be thinking that Satoru won't mind since he has seen him naked on multiple occasions but he is sorely mistaken.

Satoru can hardly look away no matter how hard he tries. He settles for lying down facing the other way, and turning out the light so the room is pitch black. Much safer, because now there's no way he can see Suguru.

But he can feel him. Which is awful, because Suguru somehow gets the idea that Satoru wants to cuddle, so he scooches really close to Satoru’s back, pressing up against it and snuggling close. Or maybe he knows Satoru doesn't want to cuddle and he doesn't care, and it's all a selfish act because he just wants some physical attention. "Thank you," he whispers, perhaps meaning,

Thank you for making me come with your fingers. Thank you for telling me I'm a filthy slu*t who's only good for sex. Thank you for f*cking me so hard I can barely stand up on my own.

Satoru doesn't respond and pretends to be asleep. In denial, as usual. It's safer this way.

Of course, he's isn't asleep, and the thought of Suguru’s warm skin pressed against him is what keeps him awake for what feels like hours.

When he finally lets himself enjoy the feeling of his body heat and the softness of his skin, though, and finally lets himself really listen to Suguru’s cute sated breaths that are on the verge of snores, he falls asleep almost instantly.

Chapter 38

Chapter Text

It doesn't really hit him until the next morning, when he wakes up at Suguru clinging to his back like a baby koala clings to its mother.

Admittedly, Satoru panics. A little. Any normal person would do the same. Luckily, he's super good at internalizing it.

After getting his bearings together and staring blearily at the mess of long hair he was assaulted with this morning, he realizes he needs to do something about this before something bad happens. Something bad being Satoru imaging them waking up together, but for real, not just after a night of a weird business-like sex agreement, and it makes his heart hurt.

"Time to get up, Sugu,” Satoru says, giving Suguru a little shake to wake him. He smiles blearily up at Satoru. Is it possible for him to still look f*cked out and sex-sleepy? Satoru feels like it should've passed by now. He's concerned it's something that'll never go away, and Satoru will constantly be reminded of how he had three fingers buried deep in Suguru’s ass last night. Jesus Christ. He just f*cked his traumatized roommate in the ass with his fingers.

Wait, no, scratch that. He was just manipulated into f*cking his traumatized roommate in the ass with his fingers. Suguru totally manipulated him and Satoru does not appreciate that. There were definitely issues with consent last night, and if Satoru were a better man he might confront Suguru about it.

Besides, Suguru was really, really drunk. Not that he acted drunk when Satoru was f*cking him, but who knows how much he remembers. f*ck.

"You alright, kiddo?" Satoru asks, when he notices Suguru still hasn't gotten up yet even though he's definitely awake now.

Suguru smiles a big cheshire cat grin at him. "My ass hurts." He knows exactly what he's doing, no matter how sweet and innocent he looks. He's devious.

Satoru is glad he's looking away, very focused on tying his shoelaces. "Well that's too god damn bad, because we're about to hike through some big ass caves with lots of stairs," he jokes, trying to break whatever tension Suguru is trying to create.

Suguru isn't giving up so easily. "Do you think maybe we could ask the workers for some ice?"

"Go outside and sit in the snow," Satoru retorts, hastily jamming things in his bag. He's a bit desperate to get out of this cursed hotel room. God, he can't believe he really did that last night. In his mind there's a perpetual soundtrack of Suguru’s moans, gasps, and cries, and it's driving him crazy. He wills himself to forget, but the stubborn memory isn't leaving so easily. The sounds may be ingrained in his mind forever.

"Or maybe I'll ask that guy from yesterday for a massage." He pretends to ponder it. "Yeah, I think I'll do that."

Satoru is already halfway out the door to get the f*ck out of this cursed hotel. "You're ridiculous. We have to go."

"Does that bother you?" Suguru asks innocently, pulling on a pair of running leggings that make his moderately-sized ass look really, really great. He knows exactly what he's doing, Satoru knows he does, especially when he turns to the side so he can check himself out in the mirror, running his hand along his thigh.

"Shut up, Suguru. We're gonna have to skip breakfast if you don't start moving faster."

They're really in no rush at all. It hardly takes any time to get to Mammoth Caves and their tour doesn't start for another three hours, anyways, so they'll have time to kill. But Satoru is definitely desperate to leave, or maybe just to change the conversation. He also really needs to call Shoko so he can rant to her and hopefully figure out what the hell is going on and how he should deal with it.

Suguru rolls his eyes, giving up the sexy seductive act and slipping on his tennis shoes. He still looks absolutely f*ckable even now that he isn't trying to be attractive. It's horrible.

Downstairs in the lobby, they have breakfast which again includes too-watery coffee. Suguru eats oatmeal with cranberries and almonds, plus a cup of strawberry yogurt. Satoru goes for sausage, eggs, and toast. Afterwards they find out they're both still hungry so they share a waffle drenched in maple syrup which is so sweet Satoru knows he's going to have a headache later despite being a sucker for sweet food.

Suguru is now off the topic of sex and much more excitedly talking about the caves. He recaps the entire history of them to Satoru in one long breath, not bothering to pause once. Satoru nods along and smiles at him because Suguru’s enthusiasm is cute, and besides, it's such a relief to sort of be distracted from the colossal mistake which occurred last night.

The drive to the caves is nice, despite the snow, because it involves minimal highway and a lot of country roads. They pass tiny houses and lots of farmland, among expansive forests of beautiful trees. It must be even more gorgeous in the summer. Still, there's something special about the way the sunlight reflects off the snow stuck to the tree branches.

Satoru is the one who drives, meaning Suguru is in charge of the AUX cord. He plays a ton of indie music that Satoru doesn't recognize, and some he does, but it sets a nice mood for their day exploring nature. He may not always understand Suguru but that doesn't mean he doesn't find joy in him, either.

There's a surprising amount of cars in the parking lot by the time they arrive. They still have about an hour and a half until their tour starts, so they look around in the gift shop and Suguru’s end up buying a pin to add to the ever growing collection on his jean jacket. Satoru helps him pin it onto the back, right above a patch of a cartoon cactus which says "free hugs" in pink letters.

There's a museum too, so they walk through it in awe. Satoru feels a strange sense of pride to find that Suguru got all of the information right when he debriefed Satoru of the history during breakfast, though he definitely shouldn't be surprised. Suguru is one of the most intelligent people Satoru has ever met.

They walk around outside too, although it's pretty cold. There are some nice trails though, and Suguru is enthusiastic about them, so Satoru obliges him and just goes along with it. Eventually it's time to head to their tour group so they do, walking together towards the pavilion where they're meeting. While the group waits for the rest of the stragglers to show up, they sit down together on a bench which feels freezing to the touch. Satoru scoots closer to Suguru to make up for the drop in temperature.

"You're warm," he sighs, giving in to a base need and looping his arm around Suguru’s so they're pressed even closer together. He even goes as far as to rest his head on Suguru’s jean-jacket clad shoulder.

Suguru throws his arm around Satoru’s shoulder, and when Satoru looks up he's smiling. "Here, give me your hands," he offers, holding his free palm open. Satoru slides his hands into it and Suguru clasps it closed tightly, warmth flooding back into Satoru’s fingers. He rubs his shoulder too, the friction creating heat that spreads throughout his arm and chest. "Better?"

"Much. Thank you."

To get to the entrance of the cave, they have to take a ten-minute bus ride to the opening. It's not very cold on the bus, but Suguru still holds Satoru close and rubs his shoulder, their other fingers entangled. Satoru doesn't mind. Although he supposes it means more to him than it does to Suguru.

No matter. Satoru isn't exactly in the mood to come to terms with the fact that he has a crush on someone as unattainable as Suguru f*cking Geto. He'd much rather explore some cool caves in peace, without the torrent of doubt and fear occupying his mind. So that's exactly what he does.

The caves truly are cool, despite the amount of stairs they have to walk down, and then up. Suguru walks behind him the entire time, since the paths are only wide enough for one person across. He keeps one hand secured on the railing and the other resting on Satoru’s side, ready to catch him if he slips on the metal stairs wet from the drops of water dripping from the rocks.

The deepest part of the cave system is actually where the thin passageways open up into a large "room" that has enough space for their tour group of twenty people to sit on the manmade benches and listen to the park ranger as he gives an informational speech on some of the sites they passed while traveling down the stairs.

He's talking about how they excavated the caves in the first place, when he flips the light switch and the lights go out abruptly, encasing all of entirety in nothing but darkness. Everyone gasps, and the ranger challenges them to be quiet and experience the darkest they will ever experience in their lives, probably, two hundred and fifty feet below the very surface of the earth.

It's completely dark, not an inch of light, not even tiny stars dancing in his vision. There's something about pitch blackness that feels claustrophobic, and has Satoru’s heart in his throat. It's so quiet that he can hear Suguru breathing quietly beside him, and that calms him. Suguru reaches over and fumbles for Satoru’s hand, not stopping until he finds it. They interlace their fingers, and still cling to each other even when the ranger flicks open his lighter and the darkness is over.

Chapter 39

Chapter Text

"That was so f*cking cool," Suguru says, for about the thirtieth time today.

Satoru nods in agreement and takes another bite of his peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He isn't about to squash Suguru’s excitement, and besides, Satoru can't stop smiling either. Aside from the disaster last night, things have been going pretty well. Satoru can't complain, especially not when Suguru wipes a bit of jelly from the corner of Satoru’s mouth with his thumb, and presses it past Satoru’s lips until he licks it off, giggling.

At the Mammoth Cave sign, they ask a passing group of teenage girls to take their picture, as per Suguru’s idea. One of the girls obliges and takes a couple, saying it's important to get multiple angles. Despite the fact that Satoru is freezing his ass off and shivering like it's nobody's business, the pictures actually do turn out pretty great. While Suguru drives, Satoru steals his phone and sends them to himself.

There next stop is Elmhurst, Illinois — Suguru’s hometown. Satoru can tell he isn't excited about it all. Satoru is kind of worried too, because he has no idea what to expect, no idea what Suguru’s planning on doing there.

Still, they have a six hour drive before either of them have to face anything, and Satoru is definitely going to take advantage of that.

They listen to Adele's entire discography while driving North, if only for the fact that it's fun as hell to sing along to her music. It's fun to listen to Suguru sing too, especially when he has a smile on his face. They have a lot of fun being silly and stupid, and it's nice.

Two hours in, Satoru has to pee again, so they park at a rest stop and go pee together. Afterwards, they get drawn in by the sight of the vending machines and end up purchasing too many unhealthy snacks. Satoru wants to switch drivers but Suguru won't let him so he ends up in the passenger's seat again, navigating even though Suguru really only needs the GPS on his phone.

Three hours in, Satoru turns the music down and decides to just get it over with. The questions have been gnawing away at him for a while now, and as much as he hates to ruin the carefree mood, he has to ask.

"Hey, kiddo," Satoru begins, and then he cringes a little because Suguru’s right, it might be a little weird that he calls him that especially after last night.

"Yeah?" Suguru responds, smile still on his face. Satoru feels bad that he's probably about to wipe it off.

He has to ask though. "What are we gonna do in Elmhurst? And how long are we going to be here?"

As expected, he looks hesitant to answer. "A few days. Three, maybe."

"Oh, okay. Are we seeing anyone?"

"We're going to a funeral, so presumably everybody." Suguru laughs but it sounds hollow. "God knows even the worst people will still go to Church to prove they're devout."

"Whose funeral, Suguru?” Satoru asks softly.

His eyes are unwavering on the road, grip tight on the steering wheel. Snowflakes fall around them and make the roads slippery but Suguru is a great driver and Satoru doesn't doubt him. "My grandmother's," he says finally, into the silence of the tires on the road.

"Were you close with her?"

Suguru laughs that bitter laugh again. Satoru doesn't like it and he wants to reach over and hold his hand but it looks like they're cemented onto the steering wheel and not going to move anytime soon, no matter what Satoru wants. "No. Maybe. As close as I could be to my adoptive grandmother who thought I'll go to hell because I like boys."

"I'm sorry," Satoru says quietly. There's an ugly silence. "You know that's not real, that God would hate you just because you like boys."

"I know. Thank you." Suguru sighs and releases his grip from the wheel, setting his hand onto Satoru’s open palm which is resting in the distance between them. He entangles their fingers, big paw engulfing Satoru’s in size and warmth. "I'm comfortable with who I am but it's just annoying. She always sided with my dad on everything, and he was wrong in so many ways... It didn't matter, I was just a kid and no adult would ever listen to me. But I loved her, obviously, because I had to. Because she's family. And some awful sh*t might've happened but we still had some good times, so I miss her. I know she loved me, deep down. That can't be said for everyone in my family, so it's important."

Satoru nods along, unsure if he should ask question or express sorrow or just let Suguru spill what he wants to spill and move on. In the end, he plays it safe and asks, "When are the ceremonies?"

"The wake is tomorrow evening and mass is the next morning, followed by the burial."

"Okay. Are you going to speak with your family?"

Suguru smiles a little, squeezing Satoru’s hand. "I'm gonna try not to."

"Are we going to anyone's house for anything? Like a reception or something?"

"Lots of questions, you're very curious."

"I need to know what to expect," Satoru defends.

You never tell me anything, he doesn't say.

"I'm sure my parents will invite us to their house after the burial but I would really, really, really rather not go to that."

"Okay. And are they going to react poorly to me being there?"

"Probably, but they'll try to hide it for the sake of appearances. I'm tempted to tell them you're my boyfriend just to piss them off."

Satoru laughs, rolling his eyes. "Yeah let's not do that..."

"Kidding. The story is that we're just roommates."

"Isn't that what we are?"

"Right."

Satoru opens his mouth to respond but decides against it.

"What?"

"Nevermind."

"Is everyone hom*ophobic or just your grandparents?"

"Everyone, pretty much. They're not the best people."

"I get it. Alright. So are we staying in a hotel because they didn't offer to let you stay with them or because you don't want to?"

"Both. Definitely both."

"Cool, I respect that. We can be gay in peace."

That comment cracks a smile and laugh out of Suguru, so Satoru deems it worth it. Definitely worth it.

Chapter 40

Chapter Text

When they get to the hotel, everything is normal. The room is essentially the same as the one last night, with two queen-sized beds, everything fairly clean.

Satoru sets off to take a shower, leaving Suguru to his own devices. This is a mistake. By the time he gets out of the shower after an admittedly long time standing beneath the hot spray, probably forty-five minutes later, he finds Suguru almost naked and well on his way to intoxicated.

Suguru doesn't seem to be perturbed by Satoru’s presence. In fact, he lets Satoru stare at him as he stares at his own reflection in the mirror and drinks straight out of a bottle of cherry wine, his grip loose on the neck. He's wearing nothing but lace panties, red this time, as he sways slowly back and forth to whatever sultry indie music he's playing this time.

"Satoru!" He exclaims excitedly, when he realizes Satoru is standing there staring at him. Suguru glides over to him, somehow graceful despite his drunkenness, and says, I want you to f*ck me again."

Satoru stares at him some more. His eyes do not travel south to where Suguru’s big hard dick is trapped in soft lace, peeking out the top and already leaking precum, which is just ridiculous. "You're ridiculous," he tells him. "Isn't your ass sore?"

Suguru smiles at him, big and wide. "It is, but if I take my medicine I'll feel better."

It's a sexual come-on, a gross one at that because it alludes to a doctor kink which Satoru definitely does not have. Suguru probably does, though. Satoru doesn't want to know that. "Go away," he mutters, trying to create some space between them. How can this keep happening? He thought he was in the clear...

The next word Suguru says is something that changes Satoru forever. He wishes he would have never heard it.

"Daddy," he whines, pouting. "Why not?"

"Please don't call me that," Satoru groans, feeling distraught and embarrassed. He covers his face in his hands, absolutely horrified. "I am really not into that. Jesus. You're really insane, Suguru, you know that right?"

Completely disregarding what Satoru just said, Suguru continues on making his life hell. "Daddy, I need you... Why won't you f*ck me?"

"Have you never heard of masturbation, Suguru? It's this thing you do when you're horny and no one else is willing to f*ck you. Works like a charm?"

"Will you show me, Daddy?"

"You're insane."

"Please?"

He doesn't mean to give in. He really, really doesn't. Especially when there's absolutely nothing in it for him except watching Suguru get off and perhaps tiring him out enough to get him to stopping calling Satoru Daddy.

He sighs. What the hell? He can play along; he's running out of reasons why he shouldn't. Suguru is drunk but not enough that he doesn't know exactly what he's doing. They've done this before, it's not new. Satoru made the mistake last night, already ruined their friendship. Is one more sexual interaction really going to make things that much worse?

"Get on the bed," Satoru orders. Whatever. He can do this. He can step up, be a little harsher than usual, let Suguru call him Daddy, f*ck him hard and harder still. What does it even matter at this point?

The speed at which Suguru complies is embarrassing for Suguru, exposing how desperate he is. He lies back on his forearms and spreads his legs wide like he's inviting Satoru in. And god, does Satoru want to go. The red lace is sheer enough that he can see everything, and it's tempting as hell.

He's here to prove a point, though. Maybe even to be a little condescending. Suguru seems like he likes that.

"Touch yourself," Satoru orders, taking a seat on the bed but not getting close. He can't believe he's doing this, but here he is, on the end of the bed, looking coldly at his roommate who's wearing nothing more but red lace and begging for Satoru to f*ck him. Insane.

"Show me how, Daddy.”

"No," he counters, "you're doing this all on your own. Stick your hand down your panties and start stroking."

"No lube?"

"You said you wanted it to hurt."

Suguru whimpers pathetically but he doesn't argue, instead following orders and slowly dragging his hand down his front, tweaking a nipple on the way there. He's playing coy, acting like he's never done this before, which is actually filthy when Satoru thinks about the amount of times he has probably had sex. Maybe even more than Satoru, which is definitely saying something.

After a while of watching Suguru just stroking his shaft, writhing at the feeling already, Satoru gives him a new task. "Touch the tip."

"But it's sensitive, Daddy," he whines, still stroking languidly, not hard or fast enough to get anywhere worth going. That won't do. Satoru wants this over as soon as possible.

"Touch the tip," Satoru repeats, just as forcefully, leaving no room for rebuttal this time.

Suguru complies, rubbing his thumb over the slit. He flinches at the first touch, which proves he wasn't lying about being extremely sensitive. But he keeps doing it, rubbing his thumb back and forth until he's moaning with it, unconsciously rocking his hips forward, his body looking for more.

Satoru doesn't give it to him. He orders Suguru to go back to stroking himself, this time rubbing his thumb over his slit with each upward movement. This has him writhing over the bed, whimpering and whining for more, more, more, always more. Satoru watches his distress, feeling powerful.

He has never felt like this before. He never really thought he'd be into dominance play, or age play, or whatever the f*ck Suguru’s into, but just this little taste of it has Satoru wanting more too. There's a certain calmness to being in control, and having his partner be so willing to do whatever he says, struggling to please, no matter what.

There's something special about someone trusting him enough to take care of him, that they relinquish all control and give it to Satoru instead...

He used to think he was more of a bottom, and has bottomed in almost every relationship he's ever been in. But he doesn't think he would mind topping Suguru. In fact he thinks he would enjoy it very much.

"Daddy, please-"

"Lick your hand."

Suguru obliges, licking it well and good, all the while watching Satoru for further instruction.

"Now go harder."

Suguru whines but does this too, following orders without question. He speeds up his hand, squeezing harder, rubbing at the tip harder. It's making him gasp and moan and whine, each time louder than the last. His skin is turning splotchy red but it's beautiful on him, all rosy cheeks and flushed skin.

At this point, Satoru is palming himself through his joggers. He can't help it, doesn't want to help it. Last night was different because as arousing as it was, he was just f*cking Suguru to keep him sated enough that he wouldn't leave and go searching for trouble. Now, though, knowing that Suguru wants this again for a second time and that it wasn't just a one-time thing, Satoru feels okay enough to join in a little bit. All the emphasis is still on getting Suguru off, of course, but he doesn't feel like a pervert for touching himself if he knows Suguru wants this too.

"Don't slow down," Satoru tells him when he sees him getting tired and closer to his org*sm. "Go faster."

"I can't take it, Daddy," Suguru cries, and that's when Satoru notices the tears in his eyes again. Does he always cry during sex? That's such a Suguru thing to do honestly, Satoru thinks mindlessly, as he catalogues Suguru’s face and how beautiful he looks when he's moaning, lips parted, tears slipping down his cheeks. Hand in his lacy red underwear. Skin flushed from exertion. Dick hard and leaking all over his hand.

"You have to, baby. You're not allowed to stop."

Suguru gasps, working his hand faster, crying louder. His other hand is clutching at the sheets, twisting them between his fingers, grasping at them with a death grip as he c*ms, nearly screaming. Cum shoots into his panties and gets on his stomach, much more contained than last time due to the help of the fabric but still a mess. His movements slow to a stop and he squeezes his eyes shut, panting heavily, body still clenched and squirming from his org*sm.

"Did I say you could stop?"

"What?" Suguru gasps, eyes blinking open. His hand is covered in cum and resting on his stomach, but when he sees the way Satoru is looking at him he wraps it around his softening dick again and strokes, hissing in pain but forcing himself to keep doing it. "Ohh, oh Satoru..."

"That's alright baby, you're doing lovely," Satoru sighs, petting Suguru’s thigh, rubbing soothingly back and forth. "You're doing great, keep going. Let's see if we can get another org*sm out of you."

"I can't," Suguru sobs, "I can't do it..."

"You can and you will."

"Daddy... f*ck, Daddy, it hurts so much, oh god, oh god, oh god..."

"You're okay, love, you're doing great. You're almost there, just a little more."

Suguru’s eyes roll back a little bit but he keeps working his hand fast and hard over himself, tangled in red lace but still managing. He's an absolute mess, with sweat covering his entire body in a thin sheen that makes him glow, and cum already coating his stomach and his hand, dripping down his wrist. His hair is a mess too, from rolling around and writhing on the bed, tangling the locks into a bird's nest.

Satoru watches in slight fascination as Suguru gets hard again, just moments after cumming. For men, overstimulation isn't a pleasurable thing, so he's surprised Suguru is taking it so well. Obviously it isn't comfortable, but he's also getting off on it if the way his dick fills right back up again is any indication, which it definitely is.

He's getting closer now, panting heavily, muscles tense, face scrunched up in a strange duality of pain and pleasure. He rocks his hips a little, f*cking up into his fast-moving hand, crying out every time his fingers graze over the tip every time he thrusts.

"Daddy... Satoru..."

"It's okay, babe. You're okay. Let go."

And he does, as if Satoru’s permission is what he needed to cum again. There's much less this time, and it drips down his hand, onto the bed. Looks like they're sharing the other bed tonight, then.

He keeps moving his hand though, gasping and hissing with the sensation as he tries and fails to catch his breath. Satoru realizes he's still jerking off because the last time he finished, Satoru reprimanded him for taking his hand away.

So Satoru grabs his wrist which is wet and dripping with cum, and gently pulls it away from where he's stroking at himself, hand tangled in red lace. "You're alright baby," Satoru soothes, "all finished. You did so well."

Suguru groans, curling his body up and turning onto his side, unmoving. Satoru drops his wrist and leans over him to make sure he's okay.

"Alright, kiddo?"

"f*ck, that was intense."

"Was I too rough?"

"I dunno. Maybe."

"sh*t," Satoru mutters, moving closer to Suguru and realizing he's shaking. Like full-out trembling, entire body shivering. "What can I do to make it better?"

"I dunno. Can we cuddle?"

"Of course," Satoru answers worriedly, sliding down on his side and wrapping his body around Suguru’s. He wraps his arms around him, wiggling one underneath his neck and winding the other around his waist, pressing a palm flat to his chest to feel his rapidly beating heart. "I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry?"

"I've never done this before. I have no idea what I'm doing."

"You're really good at it though. You're a natural."

"But I made you all- shaky," Satoru argues. "I made you cry."

Suguru laughs a little, sniffling. "That means it was good. Stop worrying."

"You said it was too much, though."

"A little. I dunno, I kind of need to prepare a bit for overstimulation. I like it, but sometimes it's a little too painful."

"Oh. I'm sorry about that, then."

"We just need to communicate better, 's all. Like we can go over kinks and boundaries, discuss a safe word, all that."

"This isn't happening again."

Suguru tenses noticeably in his arms. "What?"

"I'm not having sex with you again."

"Oh." His voice turns colder. "We didn't even have sex."

Satoru hooks his chin on Suguru’s shoulder and holds him tighter. "Whatever this is, we're not doing it again."

"Why not?"

"I'm not becoming f*ck buddies with my roommate."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not about sh*t like that anymore. Not f*cking anyone I'm not in a serious relationship with anymore."

"Why not?"

"You sound like a broken record. And you know why, asshole. I cried to you about it."

"Oh. That was a while ago."

"It was. We hardly knew each other."

Suguru’s quiet for a moment, but it seems like he has more to say.

So Satoru asks. "What is it?"

"I just don't get why that means you won't do friends with benefits."

"Because I've sworn off casual sex."

"But like, we could make it formal sex."

Satoru laughs. "And how would we do that, little one?"

"Like if we come up with rules and stuff. Formal rules. Or like, quotas. Requirements. For when we have sex."

"What does that even entail?"

"Like maybe one of the rules is that we have to have penetrative sex once a week. Or another is that I give you a blowj*b whenever you want. Stuff like that."

Satoru doesn't believe him. "Is that what you really want?"

"Yeah," Suguru admits quietly. "I want that. With you."

Now Satoru really doesn't believe him. He sighs and holds Suguru even closer, wondering when he stepped through a portal to an alternate universe where Suguru wants him so much like this. "You must be exhausted, Sugu. You should go to sleep."

"Don't dismiss me."

"What do you want me to say?"

"I want you to at least consider my offer."

It's easier to have this conversation now because even though they're close, they're not facing each other. Suguru is staring at the blank wall and Satoru is staring at his shoulder. For some reason that makes it better.

"Fine. If you still want it tomorrow, I'll consider it."

"Okay. Thank you. I can live with that."

"Alrighty then. Go to sleep."

"I need to shower."

"Want some company?"

"I'd rather be alone, I think."

It doesn't seem like a good idea to leave Suguru alone but Satoru allows it anyways. "Don't be gone too long," he says, already getting comfortable in the spot where Suguru left. He closes his eyes, and he's out like a light, still hard in his pants.

Chapter 41

Chapter Text

It must say something that Suguru has a nightmare later that evening, or perhaps early the next morning. Four o'clock is a tricky time to categorize.

The time doesn't matter. What matters is that Suguru is writhing around in bed again, but this time not due to pleasure. He's screaming in a bad way. Begging for it to stop.

He's in the other bed, too, which Satoru doesn't understand. He was supposed to slide into bed with Satoru after his shower. For some reason this is what Satoru decides to focus on in this moment. Then he realizes he's being ridiculous and stumbles out of bed to help Suguru.

It doesn't take long to wake him up this time, thank God, Satoru thinks.

"I was a child," Suguru is saying, over and over again and Satoru gets it. He really does but he wishes he didn't. "I was a child."

"You're okay, honey... It's okay. You're safe here. You're safe."

Suguru screams and cries into the sheets and it's heartbreaking to watch. Satoru strokes his back and pets his hair and holds him through it. What else is there to do?

"I hate this so much," he sobs. "I hate what they did to me."

"I know, baby. I know. You're safe now though. You're safe here with me."

"Please don't leave me. I'm so scared."

"I'm here, love. You're safe." Satoru rubs his back some more and pulls him up on his lap. Suguru curls into him, and his cries slowly lessen with time. "Come here, baby. You're okay here. You're safe here."

"I'm so sorry, Toru.”

"Don't be sorry, there's nothing to be sorry about. You're fine. It's okay."

"How can you even stand to be near me?" he wails, pressing his face into Satoru’s shirt again. It's wet from tears now, but Satoru doesn't mind as long ass it means he can make sure Suguru is okay, firsthand.

"You're lovely, Sugu. I care about you a lot. I'm not just gonna leave when things get tough."

It's a while longer before the crying dies down and Satoru is so exhausted but it's worth it for the sake of protecting Suguru from whatever is tearing him apart from inside his mind. Suguru is sprawled out over his lap, clinging to his waist and breathing in deeply, trying to slow the rhythm of his inhales and exhales per Satoru’s suggestion. He's shaking still and Satoru wishes he could say his touch calms him but surely it doesn't do anything, really, except let him know that Satoru is there for him.

"Will you sing to me?" Suguru asks eventually, when he's more sleepy than he is scared, and his eyes keep slipping closed for long moments where he sighs and burrows further into Satoru’s hold.

"Of course," Satoru agrees, rubbing circles on his upper back. "Can I have a cigarette first?"

"Only if I can come with you."

"Alright, but you have to get up and put some clothes on then." He's only wearing shorts, nothing else, but he obliges silently, shuffling off the bed and over to his suitcase to pull out a random pair of pajama pants, a hoodie, and some wool socks.

Since there's no balcony attached to their hotel room and the windows don't open, they head downstairs to the lobby and step outside for a moment while Satoru lights up.

"Want one?"

Suguru shakes his head, smiling softly and resting his head on Satoru’s shoulder. "I'm okay."

So they stand there in the hotel parking lot in the middle of Illinois in silence, resting against each other, and Satoru feels closer to Suguru than he ever has before. Something has changed during their time on this road trip, and of course some of it has to do with the fact that Satoru has coaxed multiple org*sms out of Suguru, but if he's being honest with himself this change has been happening for a while now. Every day they spend together brings them close and closer still.

Satoru stares at the glow of his cigarette, like a red sun in the dark night, and it slowly dawns on him.

"Hey, Suguru?”

"Yeah?"

"Can I ask you something?"

He hesitates, but ultimately agrees uneasily. "Sure."

"You don't have to answer," Satoru amends. "If it's too personal just tell me to f*ck off."

"Alright..."

"So, um, two nights ago, when we were- I mean, when I was-" He doesn't know how to say it.

Suguru laughs a little but it feels stunted. "You mean when you were f*cking me with your fingers?"

"Um, right. So when we were doing that I couldn't help but notice your thighs, and like the little scars. And I was wondering if they were from cigarettes?"

Suguru doesn't physically recoil. He stays right where he is and lets Satoru keep his arm around his waist as they don't face each other, just stare out at the parking lot and beyond, to the highway and the empty fields of farmland.

"You're right, they are."

It's coming together but Satoru still has to ask. "How did that happen?"

Suguru smiles but it's bitter and hollow like his laugh the other day and it hurts like a shot to the heart but Satoru tries not to let his fear show.

"My father has an affinity for burning things."

Satoru raises his eyebrows. "And he would do that to you?"

"All the damn time."

"How old were you?"

"When he first started? Too young to remember."

"Christ."

"When I was older, I probably would have fended him off, but he would just go after someone else. The dog, or some sh*t. I'd rather it just be me. Like I said, I like the smell of cigarettes."

"Why, though?"

Suguru’s smiling at him again. "Because they smell like you."

Satoru stares at him. That sure as hell doesn't make sense. Still, he gives in. "That's sweet of you."

Maybe it's the idea that Suguru likes what's bad for him, like abusive boyfriends, rough sex, and burning cigarettes. Is Satoru included in that list? Is Satoru bad for him?

"It's hard, because obviously they remind me of him. And like, they're scars, so they'll never really go away."

Satoru nods along, squeezing Suguru’s waist. Maybe he is bad for him, hell if he knows. But they feel so right together, no matter how f*cked up it is. "They're like battle scars, though. Proof that you survived."

"I guess."

"Has anyone else ever asked about them?"

"Is that your roundabout way of trying to figure out who I've had sex with?"

"Definitely not. That's not my business."

"Damn right it's not. But surprisingly, no. If anyone even noticed, they never asked."

"Huh. Why on your thighs, by the way?"

"So no one would see, I guess. And he knows it's like... embarrassing, I guess, or shameful, because it's like, a personal area, some place that's supposed to be private. But he's everywhere. I can never escape him."

Satoru stubs out his cigarette, crushing it beneath his shoe. Sick of the cold, he grabs Suguru by the hand and pulls him back inside.

"And we're seeing him tomorrow?"

"Yeah."

"When was the last time you saw him?"

"Before I left for college."

"So like, three years ago?"

"Right."

"If he... If he had the chance to abuse you again, would he?"

Suguru laughs a little, but Satoru fails to see the humor. "He'd try to kill me, probably."

"And do you dissociate around him? Or turn really submissive?"

"Probably, yeah."

"Alright. Then let's try to keep you away from him, yeah? Will you stay away from him at least when you're alone so you're never one-on-one with him?"

"Why?"

"Because I'm worried about you. I want you to be safe."

"Okay."

"You promise?"

Suguru nods. "For you."

"Say that you promise."

He's is still smiling at him like he knows something Satoru doesn't. "I promise."

They go back to their room and get back into bed, this time together. Satoru lies on his side while Suguru curls up and wraps himself around a pillow. He sings Suguru to sleep, fighting to not fall asleep himself until he's sure Suguru is out.

Listen, Satoru thinks, as he stares at the calm expression on Suguru’s face as he sleeps. The more I get to know you, the lovelier you are, and the worse it hurts to think of what they did to you.

You didn't deserve any of it.

I would keep you safe if I could.

Chapter 42

Chapter Text

"In retrospect it wasn't that bad," Suguru says the next morning at breakfast, with nothing but a cup of untouched black coffee in front of him. "A lot worse has happened to so many other people and they're fine. Like I feel like they're justified in being traumatized. But for me, it's like, why am I so freaked out from being yelled at a lot and occasionally hit or burned?"

Satoru stares at him dully. "Don't even bullsh*t me, Suguru. Your trauma is real. You're justified in your reactions."

"But I just feel like I'm faking it."

"You're not, Sugu, and that's okay."

"I just feel like I'm whining about sh*t that wasn't even that bad."

"Newsflash, Suguru: it was that bad. You're not whining about it—you hardly even talk about it. In fact I wish you would talk about it more so I would know what's going on sometimes."

Suguru doesn't respond. He stares at his steaming coffee and doesn't drink it. Satoru sighs, spears a slice of pineapple with his fork, and offers it to him.

"You have to eat something."

"I'm not hungry."

Satoru pushes the pineapple up against his lips anyways, jokingly. Suguru retracts, rolling his eyes, but leans in eventually and eats it anyways. He lets Satoru feed him a few more slices until they're laughing uncontrollably at how ridiculous they're acting.

"Better?"

"A little."

"What do you want to do today?"

"Die."

Satoru levels him with another unimpressed look. "Be serious, Suguru.”

"Fine. I wanna have sex with you."

"Straight to the point, nice. Your brazenness is very admirable. And you're insane, by the way."

"What else are we gonna do?"

"There are a million alternatives. We can do literally anything and you choose to say sex."

"I'm being honest. And you said if I brought it up today we can talk about it. So."

He's not wrong. Satoru groans, hitting his head against the table. People from other tables innocently eating breakfast look over at them but he doesn't care. Eventually he stops and looks back up at Suguru. "Fine."

"What's fine?"

"If you really want, we can talk about it."

Suguru grins at him. "Nice. So I was thinking we can work out a deal since I want to have regular sex and you don't seem to like when I do it with strangers, so."

"I don't want you to get hurt," Satoru argues, probably a bit too defensive. Afraid of giving himself away, he doesn't meet Suguru’s eyes.

"Exactly. So if we do this together, I get what I want and you get what you want. Mutually beneficial. It works out."

"Not to be rude, Suguru, but I feel like you haven't thought much about what I want. Like, obviously yeah sure I get to know that you're safe and not just offering yourself up to random strangers or whatever, but like. I already told you, I'm not into casual sex anymore."

"And I said it doesn't have to be casual. It can be formal. We can draw up some rules and everything, right now."

"By casual sex I don't mean sex without rules, Sugu. I mean sex without feelings."

Suguru frowns and doesn't seem to have a response ready. He thinks about it for a little bit. "It wouldn't be without feelings, though. I like you, and you care for me. There you go. Feelings."

"You're really trying hard to make this work, aren't you?"

"Like I said, I like you, and I like sex."

"Remember when you were just my quiet roommate? I miss those days."

"You don't. You like me now. You like when we talk."

He isn't wrong. Satoru spears another piece of pineapple and shoves it past Suguru’s lips. The way Suguru eats it is obscene. It's even worse when he licks his lips afterward. Not Satoru’s best idea, after all.

"You're insane."

Suguru grins at him. "You say that a lot. You should see me in bed, though."

"I have," Satoru hisses.

"So it shouldn't be a big deal, then. We've already done it."

“Suguru, stop. I can't believe you're just talking about it like this."

"I can't believe you're saying no to me."

"You're awful."

"So my idea was that we both get at least one org*sm each day. Penetrative sex at least three times a week, so it's something special but not totally rare. One of those three times I get to ride you. The non-penetrative days include blowj*bs, handjobs, and eating each other out. Also-"

"If you say the word 'penetrative' one more time, I'm leaving."

"Also," Suguru continues, louder, ignoring Satoru’s comment, "we need to discuss kinks. How do you feel about choking?"

"We're not doing this right now."

"So we'll do it later, then."

"I'm going up to the room."

"Okay, cool."

When Satoru stands up, Suguru does too. Suguru follows him to the garbage can where they throw out their trash and set their dishes in the receptacle. He follows him to the elevator too, and all the way up to the room. When Satoru lies down on the bed to take a nap, Suguru does the same, except he doesn't plan on taking a nap.

"So I made a list on my phone of everything we need to discuss. It's kind of like a survey and I think we should both fill it out on our own and then compare, so we can really be honest then. I'll send it to you."

"If I fill it out will you leave me alone?"

"Maybe."

Satoru sighs and pulls out his phone. In a minute he receives a very lengthy text. "What am I supposed to do?"

"You categorize each kink as yes, maybe, or no. It's like, something you want to do, something you're not the biggest fan of but willing to try, and something you never wanna do no matter what. And then at the end we compare our lists and do the things we have in common."

Satoru sighs. Okay, sure, whatever, he'll humor Suguru.

"Woah, Sugu, this is really long."

"Yeah, I googled it and tried to find one that covers all the bases. Also, I forgot, there's one more option, called 'fantasy,' and you use that if it's something you like to think about but don't actually want to do."

"Okay." He takes a deep breath and sighs again. Suguru is already ten questions in, working diligently. He sits up and decides to just go for it.

An exclusive sexual relationship - YES Sex of some kind(s) with one partner at a time, only - YES Sex of some kind(s) with two partners at a time - NO Sex of some kind(s) with three or more partners at a time - NO A partner directing or deciding for me in some way with sex - NO Directing or deciding for a partner in some way with sex - YES

Safer Sex and Overall Safety Items and Behaviors:

Sharing my sexual history with a partner - YES A partner sharing their sexual history with me - YES Doing anything sexual which might pose high risks of certain or all sexually transmitted infections (STIs) - NO Doing anything sexual which might pose low risks of certain or all sexually transmitted infections (STIs) - MAYBE Using a condom with a partner, always - MAYBE Using a condom with a partner, not always - YESPutting on a condom myself - YES Putting on a condom for someone else - YES Someone else putting on a condom for me - YES Using a latex glove with a partner, always - NO Using a latex glove with a partner, not always - MAYBE Using lubricant with a partner - YES Applying lubricant to myself - YES Applying lubricant on a partner - YES Someone else putting lubricant on me - YES Getting regularly tested for STIs with a partner - MAYBE Sharing STI test results with a partner - YES Doing things which might cause me momentary or minor discomfort or pain - MAYBE Doing things which might cause a partner momentary or minor discomfort or pain - YES Doing things which might cause me sustained or major discomfort or pain - NO Doing things which might cause a partner sustained or major discomfort or pain - NO Being unable to communicate clearly during sex - NO Having a partner be unable to communicate clearly during sex - MAYBE Initiating or having sex while or after I have been using alcohol or other recreational drugs - MAYBE A partner initiating or having sex while or after I have been using alcohol or other recreational drugs - MAYBE I am triggered by something(s) around sexual safety, or need additional safety precautions because of triggers. Those are/that is: __________

Sexual Responses:

Feeling and being aroused, alone - YES Feeling and being aroused, in front of or around a partner - YES Having a genital response, such as erection or lubrication, seen or felt by a partner - YES Not having or "losing" erection or lubrication in front of a partner - YES Being unable to reach org*sm in front of a partner - YES Having one org*sm in front of partner - YES Having more than one org*sm in front of a partner - YES ejacul*ting, with or in front of a partner - YES Having a partner ejacul*te with me/while I'm present - YES Having an org*sm before or after I feel like I "should" in front of a partner - YES Having a partner have an org*sm before or after I feel like they "should" - YES Making noise during sex or org*sm with a partner - YES Having sex interrupted by something or someone external or your own body or feelings - YES I am triggered by certain sexual responses of my own or those of a partner. Those are: NONE I like or don't like having or giving certain kinds of sexual aftercare (like snuggling or reaffirming emotional feelings). Those are: I'M WILLING TO GIVE ANY KIND OF AFTERCARE NEEDED BY MY PARTNER

Physical and/or Sexual Activities:

Masturbation - YES Holding hands - YES Hugging - YES Kissing, cheek or face - YES Kissing, closed-mouth - YES Kissing, open-mouth - YES Being kissed or touched on the neck - YES Kissing or touching a partner's neck - YES Giving hickeys - YES Getting hickeys - YES Tickling, doing the tickling - YES Tickling, being tickled - NO Wrestling or "play-fighting" - YES General massage, giving - YES General massage, receiving - YES Having my chest, breasts, and/or nipples touched or rubbed - YES Touching or rubbing a partner's chest, breasts, and/or nipples - YES Frottage (dry humping/clothed body-to-body rubbing) - YES Tribadism (scissoring, rubbing naked genitals together with a partner) - YES A partner putting their mouth or tongue on my chest - YES Putting my mouth or tongue on a partner's chest - YES Masturbating in front of/with a partner - YES A partner masturbating in front of/with me - YES Manual sex (hands or fingers on penis), giving - YES Manual sex (hands or fingers on penis), receiving - YES Manual sex (hands or fingers on testes), giving - YES Manual sex (hands or fingers on testes), receiving - YES Manual sex (hands or fingers on or around anus), giving - YES Manual sex (hands or fingers on or around anus), receiving - YES Manual sex (hands or fingers inside rectum), giving - YES Manual sex (hands or fingers inside rectum), receiving - YES ejacul*ting on or in a partner's body - YES A partner ejacul*ting on or in my body - YES Using sex toys (like vibrators, dild*s, or masturbation sleeves) with a partner - YES Oral sex (to penis), giving - YES Oral sex (to penis), receiving - YES Oral sex (to testes), giving - YES Oral sex (to testes), receiving - YES Oral sex (to anus), giving - YES Oral sex (to anus), receiving - YES Anal intercourse, giving - YES Anal intercourse, receiving - MAYBE Using food items as a part of sex - MAYBE Cross-dressing during sex - NO Having a partner cross-dress during sex - MAYBE Biting a partner - YES Being bitten by a partner - YES Scratching a partner - MAYBE Being scratched by a partner - YES Wearing something that covers my eyes - NO A partner wearing something that covers their eyes - YES Having my movement restricted - NO Restricting the movement of a partner - YES Being slapped or spanked by a partner in the context of sexual pleasure - NO Slapping or spanking a partner in the context of sexual pleasure - YES Pinching or having any kind of clamp used on my body during sex - NO Pinching a partner or using any kind of clamp on them during sex - YES Activities that leave marks, giving - YES Activities that leave marks, receiving - MAYBE Using paddles, floggers, whips, crops, canes, etc. - MAYBE Having paddles, floggers, whips, crops, canes, etc. used on me - NO I am triggered by certain sexual activities. Those are: NONE

Non-physical (or not necessarily physical) Sexual Activities:

Communicating my sexual fantasies to/with a partner - YES Receiving information about a partner's sexual fantasies - YES Dirty talk - YES Roleplay - MAYBE Phone sex - YES Cybersex, on cellphone - MAYBE Receiving sexual pictures of my partner on my phone - NO! Sending sexual pictures of my partner to their phone - NO! Reading p*rnography or erotica with a partner - NO Viewing p*rnography with a partner - MAYBE I am triggered by certain non-physical sexual activities. Those are: SENDING NUDES VIA TEXT OR SNAPCHAT

"Christ, that was long."

"I know, right?"

"I never knew sex could be so extensive."

"Shall we compare?"

"I guess. Let's just focus on the differences, so we don't spend like ten years going over it."

"Yeah, okay."

Satoru takes Suguru’s phone and scrolls through his answers, noting the ways in which they differ from his own.

(AUTHOR'S NOTE: For the ease of the reader, theboldedstatements are the ones in which Satoru and S’uguru’s answersdifferfrom each other.)

A partner touching me affectionately without asking me first - YES Touching a partner affectionately without asking first - YES A partner touching me sexually without asking me first -YES Touching a partner sexually without asking first - YES A partner touching me affectionately in public - YES Touching a partner affectionately in public - YES A partner touching me sexually in public - YES Touching a partner sexually in public - YES Being naked around a partner - YES A partner being naked around me - YES Direct eye contact - YES Being looked at directly, overall, when I am naked - YES A partner talking about my body - YES Talking about my partner's body -YES Seeing or being exposed to other kinds of body fluids (sem*n, sweat, urine, etc.) - YES Some parts of my body are off limits. Those are: Inner thighs... Not exactly off limits, but they're sensitive and sometimes it's not okay to touch them. I am not comfortable looking at, touching, or feeling some parts of another person's body. Those are: ________I am triggered by (having post-traumatic response to) something(s) about body boundaries. Those are: Inner thighs!!! Be gentle and cautious please.

Words and Terms:

I prefer the following gender/sexual identity or role words to be used for me: HE/HIM, MALE, MANI prefer my chest or breasts to be referred to as: I prefer my sexual orientation and/or identity to be referred to as: GAY Some words I am not okay with to refer to me, my identity, my body, or which I am uncomfortable using or hearing about, with or during any kind of sex are: any slurs! I am triggered by certain words or language. Those are: See question #9

Relationship Models and Choices:

A partner talking to close friends about our sex life - YES Talking to close friends about my sex life - YES A partner talking to acquaintances, family, or co-workers about our sex life - YES Talking to acquaintances, family, or co-workers about my sex life - MAYBE An exclusive romantic relationship - YES An exclusive sexual relationship - YES Sex of some kind(s) with one partner at a time, only - YES Sex of some kind(s) with two partners at a time - YES Sex of some kind(s) with three or more partners at a time - YES A partner directing or deciding for me in some way with sex - YES Directing or deciding for a partner in some way with sex - NO

Safer Sex and Overall Safety Items and Behaviors:

Sharing my sexual history with a partner - YES A partner sharing their sexual history with me - YES Doing anything sexual which might pose high risks of certain or all sexually transmitted infections (STIs) - MAYBE Doing anything sexual which might pose low risks of certain or all sexually transmitted infections (STIs) - YES Using a condom with a partner, always - NO Using a condom with a partner, not always - YES Putting on a condom myself - YES Putting on a condom for someone else - YES Someone else putting on a condom for me - YES Using a latex glove with a partner, always - NO Using a latex glove with a partner, not always - MAYBE Using lubricant with a partner - YES Applying lubricant to myself - YES Applying lubricant on a partner - YES Someone else putting lubricant on me - YES Getting regularly tested for STIs with a partner - MAYBE Sharing STI test results with a partner - YES Doing things which might cause me momentary or minor discomfort or pain - YES Doing things which might cause a partner momentary or minor discomfort or pain - NO Doing things which might cause me sustained or major discomfort or pain - YES Doing things which might cause a partner sustained or major discomfort or pain - NO Being unable to communicate clearly during sex - YES Having a partner be unable to communicate clearly during sex - NO Initiating or having sex while or after I have been using alcohol or other recreational drugs - YES A partner initiating or having sex while or after I have been using alcohol or other recreational drugs - YES I am triggered by something(s) around sexual safety, or need additional safety precautions because of triggers. Those are/that is: I know I have to have triggers... I just don't know what they are. I guess we'll find out!

Sexual Responses:

Feeling and being aroused, alone - YES Feeling and being aroused, in front of or around a partner - YES Having a genital response, such as erection or lubrication, seen or felt by a partner - YES Not having or "losing" erection or lubrication in front of a partner - YES Being unable to reach org*sm in front of a partner - YES Having one org*sm in front of partner - YES Having more than one org*sm in front of a partner - YES ejacul*ting, with or in front of a partner - YES Having a partner ejacul*te with me/while I'm present - YES Having an org*sm before or after I feel like I "should" in front of a partner - MAYBE Having a partner have an org*sm before or after I feel like they "should" - YES Making noise during sex or org*sm with a partner - YES Having sex interrupted by something or someone external or your own body or feelings - YES I am triggered by certain sexual responses of my own or those of a partner. Those are: Again... I know I must be triggered by something, I just don't know what. I like or don't like having or giving certain kinds of sexual aftercare (like snuggling or reaffirming emotional feelings). Those are: I like cuddling, massages, baths, lotions, treating wounds with proper medical attention, ice packs for soreness and bruises, words of affirmation, talking about the scene, taking naps, essentially feeling loved and cared for by my dom :)

Physical and/or Sexual Activities:

Masturbation - YES Holding hands - YES Hugging - YES Kissing, cheek or face - YES Kissing, closed-mouth - YES Kissing, open-mouth - YES Being kissed or touched on the neck - YES Kissing or touching a partner's neck - YES Giving hickeys - YES Getting hickeys - YES Tickling, doing the tickling - MAYBE Tickling, being tickled - YES Wrestling or "play-fighting" - YES General massage, giving - YES General massage, receiving - YES Having my chest, breasts, and/or nipples touched or rubbed - YES Touching or rubbing a partner's chest, breasts, and/or nipples - YES Frottage (dry humping/clothed body-to-body rubbing) - YES Tribadism (scissoring, rubbing naked genitals together with a partner) - YES A partner putting their mouth or tongue on my chest - YES Putting my mouth or tongue on a partner's chest - YES Masturbating in front of/with a partner - YES A partner masturbating in front of/with me - YES Manual sex (hands or fingers on penis), giving - YES Manual sex (hands or fingers on penis), receiving - YES Manual sex (hands or fingers on testes), giving - YES Manual sex (hands or fingers on testes), receiving - YES Manual sex (hands or fingers on or around anus), giving - YES Manual sex (hands or fingers on or around anus), receiving - YES Manual sex (hands or fingers inside rectum), giving - YES Manual sex (hands or fingers inside rectum), receiving - YES ejacul*ting on or in a partner's body - YES A partner ejacul*ting on or in my body - YES Using sex toys (like vibrators, dild*s, or masturbation sleeves) with a partner - YES Oral sex (to penis), giving - YES Oral sex (to penis), receiving - YES Oral sex (to testes), giving - YES Oral sex (to testes), receiving - YES Oral sex (to anus), giving - YES Oral sex (to anus), receiving - YES Anal intercourse, giving - MAYBE Anal intercourse, receiving - YES!!!!!!! :) :) :) Using food items as a part of sex - YES Cross-dressing during sex - YES Having a partner cross-dress during sex - MAYBE Biting a partner - YES Being bitten by a partner - YES Scratching a partner - YES Being scratched by a partner - YES Wearing something that covers my eyes - YES A partner wearing something that covers their eyes - NO Having my movement restricted - YES Restricting the movement of a partner - NO Being slapped or spanked by a partner in the context of sexual pleasure - YES Slapping or spanking a partner in the context of sexual pleasure - NO Pinching or having any kind of clamp used on my body during sex - YES Pinching a partner or using any kind of clamp on them during sex - NO Activities that leave marks, giving - YES Activities that leave marks, receiving - YES Using paddles, floggers, whips, crops, canes, etc. - NO Having paddles, floggers, whips, crops, canes, etc. used on me - YES I am triggered by certain sexual activities. Those are: Burning... I like it sometimes, but sometimes it's really triggering.

Non-physical (or not necessarily physical) Sexual Activities:

Communicating my sexual fantasies to/with a partner - YES Receiving information about a partner's sexual fantasies - YES Dirty talk - YES Roleplay - YES!!! Phone sex - YES Cybersex, on cell phone - YES Receiving sexual pictures of my partner on my phone - YES Sending sexual pictures of my partner to their phone - YES Reading p*rnography or erotica with a partner - MAYBE Viewing p*rnography with a partner - YES I am triggered by certain non-physical sexual activities. Those are: I like age play/Daddy kink but sometimes it's triggering :(

"Okay," Satoru sighs, finally reaching the end. "Shall we discuss?"

"Sure."

"So we'll just start near the beginning. Umm, you said yes to sexual touching without asking first. I said no to that because consent is important to me and especially since I don't want to hurt you or scare you I thought it would be good to ask first?"

"I see what you're saying, but it's okay with me. I trust you. If we agree to do this, my body is yours." He smiles teasingly.

"Alright. You also said yes to touching sexually in public, and I said no I think. Or maybe. I've never really thought about it before. And how public would you be okay with?"

"It's just something I'm kind of into, but it's not that important."

“Suguru, now is your chance to tell me what you want because we're literally negotiating our kinks right now, alright?"

"Just- I don't know. Like in a public bathroom or something. Or on a balcony? Not too public, but enough that there's a risk."

"Okay. So would, say, a handjob in a restaurant be too much?"

Suguru giggles and leans back on his forearms, looking up at the ceiling still smiling. "Is that something you want to try?"

Satoru shrugs, smoothing out the sheets with his palm. "Just an example."

"Yeah, that would be perfect. Like if we were in a dark corner or something and the server forgot about us."

"Alright, I'll keep that in mind. Next, you said your inner thighs are sensitive and that sometimes it's not okay to touch there. When is it not okay?"

"I don't know, really... Sometimes I get in a bad headspace where I don't like feeling vulnerable and it freaks me out because obviously that's a vulnerable place and I have scars there, so."

"Will you tell me when to not touch there, or should I just avoid your thighs in general?"

"I think I'll be able to tell you. I don't want you to have to avoid touching them."

"Okay. I'll definitely be gentle there anyways."

"Thank you."

"So you said you were okay with me talking to family, friends, or acquaintances about our sex life, but you said maybe for you doing it with your family and such. I said maybe and no respectively."

"Right. I meant that if you want to you can, and I don't think I will but it doesn't matter that much to me."

"Okay. And you seem like a bit of an exhibitionist, so you probably like the thought of people talking about you like that, right?"

Suguru laughs, "Yeah, I do."

"Ummm, the next one... You said yes to having sex with two partners at once, and yes to three or more partners at once..?"

Suguru blushes, covering his face in his hands. "I did."

"I said no to both," Satoru adds, eyebrows raised at the thought that Suguru has a gangb*ng fantasy. Unexpected and definitely interesting.

"Yeah, that's fine, let's move on."

Satoru smiles at him. "I'll change my answers to 'maybe,' just for you. Okay, next we have the one about a high risk of STI's. Um, I don't know exactly what that entails but I'm hoping we'll be as safe as possible."

"Agreed. I didn't know what to say for that one either."

"The next one is about condoms. I said maybe to not using a condom all the time and you said yes."

"Yeah, um, that's something I want to do but once we both get tested, obviously."

"Alright, neat. Next is... things that caused pain. I said maybe to administering momentary and minor pain, and no to everything else. You said yes to receiving both momentary, minor pain and sustained, major pain. Which means you have a pain kink, I'm assuming?"

It makes a lot of sense, of course, for Suguru to get off on pain. It's definitely one of the reasons why he keeps going back to Toji but it doesn't explain why he's always sobbing for hours afterwards, all bruised and beaten up.

Satoru wonders, too, if his affinity for pain is a result of his trauma, or just a part of who he is.

"Yeah, it's something that I... really like, I guess."

"Okay," Satoru nods, like his heart isn't threatening to beat out of his chest right now. "Have you ever had like a sexual agreement with an actual dom, or like, sad*st, I guess?"

"I haven't. But I want to try it."

"Alright. So then in terms of whips and paddles and such, you've never tried any of that before?"

"No. But I want to."

Satoru nods, scanning down the list. "Alright, moving on. You said yes to being unable to communicate during sex. What do you mean by that?"

"So, like, gags, or having my face pressed into the bed, or being ordered to not make a sound. Or like, if I'm getting my face f*cked, ideally I wouldn't be able to speak. Stuff like that."

"Okay. So that definitely has the added danger of you not being able to use a safe word in case you feel uncomfortable and want to slow down or stop. If we do that, we'll have to come up with a way to signal that, you know? Like you can pinch me or something."

"That won't work if my hands are bound, though."

"Right, okay. We'll figure something out. Next is initiating sex while drunk or high. You said yes to you initiating it and me initiating it. I said maybe to both, again due to consent concerns. I'm not gonna lie, the past two nights have made me a bit uncomfortable and I feel guilty, like I'm taking advantage of you because you were drinking and I wasn't."

"I wanted it, though. I mean clearly, I want it."

"I'd feel better if you consented while sober."

"Okay, fine. We can do that."

"Good. Umm, so here you wrote that you know you have triggers but you don't know what they are."

"Yeah... So sometimes it's very difficult for me to identify my triggers because it feels like there's no rhyme or reason to them. I don't know, really. Sometimes they just pop up and when I hadn't known they existed."

"So what should we do about that?"

Suguru shrugs. "Just be careful, I guess. And if something happens during sex, where I like dissociate or something, it isn't your fault at all, because I'm consenting to this."

"Alright. Next, you said maybe to org*sming before or after you think you 'should' org*sm. I said yes to this because my policy is to cum whenever you want. So explain your answer."

"Um, okay, so I said maybe because I like the idea of org*sm denial, and like, not being allowed to cum until you say I can? And also, the alternative, which is like, you give me three minutes to get off, or something, and if I don't do it I get punished."

"Interesting. We can do that, I guess." Satoru looks down at the list again, and sees Suguru’s cute notes about aftercare, and the tiny smiley face he added at the end. "So I take it you're a fan of aftercare?"

"Very much so."

"Good, I'm glad. I'm willing to do whatever you need me to, so just say the word, okay?"

Suguru nods, sitting up a little more. "That's nice of you."

"Next, you said yes to being tickled..? See, I have absolutely no idea how anyone can find enjoyment from that, but you do you I guess. You also said yes to being on the receiving end of anal intercourse," Satoru laughs a little at the phrasing, "which is very lucky because I just so happen to want to be on the giving end, so that works well."

"It does," Suguru agrees quietly. When Satoru looks up from Suguru’s phone he sees Suguru’s cheeks are rosy pink because he's blushing, god damn it. For Suguru, who is tall and strong and oftentimes very masculine, the blatant cuteness makes Satoru’s heart ache.

He has to tear his eyes away to look down at the list again. "Ummm, after that, you said yes to using food items as a part of sex. I said no."

"Whipped cream, chocolate, wine... There are a lot of things I would like."

"Hmm, okay, I can see that. You also said yes to cross-dressing."

"I'm into lingerie."

"So am I."

"Good, then."

"Blindfolds are next, I think I said maybe and you said yes. You also said yes to having your movement restricted via bondage. We can do that, if you want, but obviously we have to do research and discuss safe words and all that."

"Sounds good."

"You also said yes to being slapped or spanked, I'm assuming this is where the daddy kink comes in?"

"Kind of, yeah. You can be as rough as you want."

"Do you want, like, loving spanks, or do you want me to pretend to be mad at you?"

"I dunno, either is fine. I don't want you to pretend, really."

"Alright. For pinching and clamps you said yes as well. Nipple clamps?"

Suguru nods, gaze very intent on the boring white sheets.

"You said yes to giving and receiving marks..."

"I might scratch your back with my nails sometimes if that's okay."

"Yeah, I can work with that. Are you okay with anything? Scratches, welts, hickeys, bruises?"

"Yeah, anything is fine, except sometimes burning triggers me, but also sometimes I like it. I don't know how to explain it."

"Hmm. Let's hold off on the burning, then. That's not really my thing, either."

"Candle wax is okay, though. Like, I like it and want to try it."

"Alrighty, I'll add that to the list." Satoru scrolls down and sees where Suguru responded YES!!!bTo roleplay. "What kinds of roleplay are you into?"

"Daddy and little is the main one."

"Is there something special you want me to call you?"

Suguru blushes again, unable to hide it. His voice is bashful when he admits, "I like when you call me baby, and love. And I would like it if you called me 'little one' sometimes, too."

"'Kay, I can do that. Any other roleplaying?"

"Does dom/sub count?"

"We could do master/slave, I guess?"

Suguru shakes his head. "I prefer daddy/little."

"How little or like, young, are we talking?"

"I dunno. It's just like, relative, I guess. Like that I'm younger than you and I act younger than you."

"Alright, and we're not doing pacifiers or diapers or any of that?"

"No, definitely not."

"Thank god. Umm, I'm trying to think of what other roleplay there is. Doctor and patient? p*rnstars? Animals? Teacher and student?"

Suguru shakes his head no to all of those so Satoru tries to think of some more.

"Oh, have you ever considered inanimate object roleplay? Like where you would be a chair or a table or something. That might be fun."

"Yeah, fun for you," Suguru scowls.

"We should try it," Satoru says, thinking of relaxing in a chair and propping his feet up on Suguru’s naked back. The view would definitely be nice.

"Maybe," Suguru allows.

Satoru can't come up with anymore roleplay scenarios so he continues down the list. "Oh, right, okay. So you said yes to sexting and sending pictures, and I said no. It's not that I don't trust you, so I'm hoping you understand that I'm only saying no because of what happened to me in the past."

"I respect that," Suguru says seriously. "It's fine. Can I still send pictures to you, though?"

"I mean, if you really want to."

"I do."

"Then, sure. Go for it. So, the second-to-last statement is watching p*rn together. I said maybe and you said yes. I mean, I guess I could see it. It's kind of weird, though."

"It's not weird, it's hot," Suguru argues.

"Okay, sure, we can do that if you want. Umm, the last question was about non-physical things you find triggering, and you answered age play and daddy kink even though you also enjoy those things."

"Yeah... So, I mean I think we can both agree my, like, tastes in sex are kind of dependent on what happened to me in the past, so there's a fine line between me enjoying it and being triggered by it."

"Alright. Any ideas how we do it safely, then?"

"I think just doing it with someone I trust will make it better."

"Okay, great. Can I take a nap now?"

Satoru started out filling the questionnaire with the intention of satisfying Suguru enough to get him to leave him alone, and finished it having sort accepted a sexual agreement with Suguru, which was not the plan at all. He realizes now that it's not really that bad of an idea, until he catches feelings at least, feelings that Suguru will probably never truly reciprocate.

He can still back out, of course, but he finds that he doesn't want to. Categorizing his sexual preferences was eye-opening and it turns out it actually made him a bit more willing to try this agreement with Suguru. The rational part of his mind is telling him to stop because it isn't the smartest idea but for once Satoru doesn't listen because he doesn't care.

"You're really going to take a nap right now?"

"Why not?"

Suguru frowns at him. "Will you at least f*ck me first?"

"Now that'll seem like vanilla sex compared to what we just talked about."

"It is vanilla sex," Suguru argues. "Hey, by the way, are you agreeing to the plan I talked about earlier?"

"The org*sm every day plan?"

Suguru smirks at him. "Yeah, that one."

"Yeah, I guess I am. But what do we do if we don't see each other for a day?"

"Phone sex."

"Isn't that a little intense, though? Like, sex every day?"

Suguru shrugs.

"Alright, whatever, I'll do it. But I'm setting some rules, too, and one of them is that either of us is allowed to back out at any moment for whatever reason, no questions asked."

"No questions asked?"

"Right."

"Okay, fine. Now can we seal the deal?"

Satoru rolls his eyes. "God, you've really got a one-track mind, don't you?"

"I mean, yeah."

"Eh, whatever. How do you want to do this? We have about six hours until we have to leave for the wake, by the way."

"Okay. Let's just make out for a while first and go from there."

"I'm down for that," Satoru sighs, shifting over on the bed and pushing Suguru down by his shoulders. He hovers on top of him, staring down at Suguru for a long while, just out of reach.

They've never kissed before. Satoru would be a liar to say he's never thought about it before, because come on, really? Suguru’s lips are so plush and pink and beautiful, and he does obscene things with them without even thinking about it, like when he's drinking wine or eating a banana. He's biting his bottom lip now, actually, as he stares up at Satoru with unwavering lust, and yeah, that's a lot to handle.

Satoru kind of can't handle it. In terms of other things he can't do, he also can't believe they just had an hour-long conversation about sex fantasies. Suguru isn't the most open person so the last thing Satoru expected was for them to be able to speak so easily and openly about their desires, which are so basely personal and intimate it still makes Satoru blush a bit.

It was just last week, during finals, when they still felt practically like strangers. Obviously they aren't strangers, and haven't been for a while, but considering how close they became in the past few days alone, they've really made a lot of progress.

Suguru reaches up and cups Satoru’s face very gently in his hand, staring up into his eyes. "Aren't you going to kiss me?" he teases, brushing Satoru’s bangs off his face.

"Be patient," Satoru chastises, now silently vowing to take his sweet time.

He dips down, narrowly avoiding Suguru’s lips and kissing at the corner of his mouth, pulling away and laughing when Suguru gasps, affronted. He ignores Suguru’s protests and kisses his cheek instead, moving down to his jawline and then over, across the bow of his jaw, up to his ear. He nibbles on the edge, enjoying the sharp, shaky intake of breath Suguru elicits at the feeling of teeth, but he doesn't let even that stop him.

Breathing in the scent of his skin mixed with the strawberry shampoo he used recently, Satoru buries his nose in his hair and then kisses all over his neck, a bit obnoxiously, just to make Suguru laugh.

"You like that?"

"You're stupid," Suguru retorts, but he says it with a sigh and sinks further into the mattress, body relaxing, obviously enjoying it.

"You're allowed to touch me, you know," Satoru says, kissing in one spot now, right below the corner of his jaw.

"Sorry," Suguru whispers, tentatively setting his hands on Satoru’s waist. His touch is light, barely there, barely felt.

"It's okay, you don't have to apologize. I just don't want you to have to feel weird about that stuff. If you want to do something, just do it."

"Alright."

As Satoru goes back to sucking on Suguru’s neck, Suguru’s hands tighten a little on his waist, squeezing gently. They travel lower, to his hips, as if he's exploring and surveilling, taking note of the spaces of Satoru’s body, where they exist and how they exist, and memorizing how they feel. It's not until Satoru pulls away from his neck ever so slightly to blow cool air on the spot which he has been working on with his tongue, causing goosebumps to rise on Suguru’s skin, that Suguru slides his hands even lower and cups Satoru’s ass.

That's when it gets good. Satoru moans a little and mauls Suguru’s neck a bit more, sucking at a few more spots until they're bruised lightly. Suguru is still groping at his ass and it feels good because his hands are big and gentle but insistent, so Satoru decides to reward him by actually kissing him this time.

It's life-changing in a stupid way. Satoru kisses hard, deciding not to f*ck around anymore and to just go for it, so he sucks on Suguru’s bottom lip until Suguru sighs into it and opens his mouth, letting Satoru lick into him insistently, giving and taking. He's getting tired from holding himself up so he plants his hips down on Suguru’s and slips onto his forearms, effectively lying on top of him.

"God, you feel so good. You're so lovely."

"You too," Suguru gasps, bucking his hips up a little and oh. That feels nice.

Satoru whines, and Suguru does it again, pressing their hips together with more force this time. They find a rhythm, grinding against each other, no care for the clothes separating their skin, as they make out enthusiastically, kissing hard.

Maybe the initial plan was to knock out one of Suguru’s three days this week of penetrative sex, but they don't get that far today. In fact, both of them cum before they even get out of their clothes.

That's right. Their makeout session turns so heated, they rut against each other until Suguru is gasping for breath and crying that he's going to cum. Satoru hardly gives him the chance to breathe, just kissing him harder, rubbing against him harder, and he c*ms like that, pressed into the mattress, breathing so heavily he's shaking. Satoru coaxes him through it, encouraging him to let go.

By the end of it, he looks exhausted, but Satoru still hasn't gotten off yet so he fights to keep his eyes open. He reaches out and palms Satoru through his trackies, rubbing him off like that. When Satoru c*ms, he collapses on top of Suguru and stays there.

Suguru doesn't seem to mind. He sets his hands back on Satoru’s ass and rests them there like he's content to just hold him. Maybe he is.

"Nap time now?" Satoru asks hopefully, burying his face in Suguru’s blemished neck, which looks like a warzone from all the hickeys.

"f*ck yes."

So they sleep the day away.

Chapter 43

Chapter Text

"Are you nervous?"

"A little, I guess. Are you?"

"Yeah, I am." Satoru sighs. "It's okay to be scared though. We'll be perfectly okay."

Suguru nods mindlessly but he doesn't look like he believes it. Satoru isn't sure if he himself does either. "I'm so glad I have you with me, though. I have no idea what I would've done if I was alone."

"No one should have to go through this alone, Sugu. But I'm glad I can be here for you."

They're in the car, on their way to the funeral home. Satoru is driving. Suguru is sitting in the passenger's seat, jittering, and bouncing his knee up and down so much it feels as though it makes the car shake. They tried listening to music but it didn't work; they're both too keyed up to focus on anything else. In less than an hour, Suguru will see his abusive adoptive parents for the first time in more than three years. He'll also be faced with the death of his grandma, whom he was really close with.

Satoru is definitely nervous. He's worried about how Suguru is going to handle it all. He definitely wishes they would've ended up having actual sex because maybe they'd both be more tired and relaxed right now, calmer in a way.

Unfortunately, it's too late for that, unless they fancy themselves some funeral sex, which is just too morbid to think about. Satoru vows to steal Suguru away for a moment and hide out with him in the bathroom, maybe even drag him into one of the stalls and kiss him until he calms down.

They arrive at the funeral home all too soon. The parking lot is only half full, but Satoru parks in the back so they have to walk farther to get inside. It'll waste time. At least, that's what he's hoping.

"Do I look okay?" Suguru asks once they're both standing outside of the car, procrastinating actually walking closer to the building they're supposed to be in right now.

"You look great," Satoru tells him honestly. Then, in a posh accent, "Very dashing."

Suguru rolls his eyes but still messes with his hair and fiddles with his rings. Definitely nervous habits. He's wearing all black: jeans, blouse, boots, the whole look. It's beautiful on him, of course, simple but devastatingly handsome, as always. In a different setting he would look like a rockstar.

They had a bit of an issue when getting ready earlier in the day, first when they realized Satoru hadn't packed any nice clothes because he hadn't expected to be attending a funeral, and second when they noticed the hickeys all over Suguru’s neck.

The first problem required a stressful rummage through both of their suitcases until they pulled together an acceptable outfit. Now Satoru is wearing Suguru’s extra pair of jeans, which are too tight on his ass and thighs but otherwise kinda short. It's very obvious they're not his pants, and again in another setting it would be a funny look, but right now it looks like he just had sex and Satoru threw on the first pair of trousers he could find, which turned out to not belong to him. That's not entirely false, but again, not a good look for a funeral.

Luckily, he's wearing his own black jumper, and though he already wore it on this trip he supposes it's fine. The sleeves cover his hands and keep him warm which is exactly what he needs in the horrid winter weather.

The other problem, this one a bit more raunchy, was fixed with a trip to the drugstore, where they spent at least fifteen minutes in the makeup aisle.

"Am I Natural Ivory or Classic Ivory?" Suguru had wailed, holding up two different concealer sticks which looked nearly identical. Satoru tried his best to help.

"I think you're actually Porcelain, babe. Or maybe Perfect Beige? I can't tell."

It took ten minutes to narrow it down between Natural Ivory and a newly discovered shade called Perfect Porcelain. They stared at the two shades for so long, they started to look exactly the same. Eventually the lady at the end of the aisle near the mascara, who had been watching their breakdown for the past few minutes came over to give them a second opinion.

She was very sweet, tilting Suguru’s head up by the chin to get a better look at his neck, before announcing, "Honey, you're definitely Perfect Porcelain."

Suguru sighed, relieved, giving her a small hug of gratitude. "Thank you so much."

"No problem. Good luck. And by the way, I would suggest buying powder as well to put over the hickeys once you cover them up." And with one last have fun, boys! she was gone.

Now the hickeys are covered up for the most part. Suguru keeps touching his neck though, so the concealer is bound to rub off sometime. Every time he does it, Satoru swats his hands away.

"Alright, shall we head in?"

"I really don't want to," Suguru sighs. He starts walking anyways. Satoru matches his pace and links their arms together. He would hold Suguru’s hand but he's afraid one of Suguru’s hom*ophobic relatives will see and damn them to hell.

There's a young boy at the door, dressed to the nines, who holds it open for them. A man inside offers to take their coats. Satoru isn't wearing one, but Suguru shrugs off his and hands it over. They're directed to the room on the right, and they head inside, moving slowly.

It's uncomfortably quiet. Satoru’s eyes land on the harpist in the corner, behind a screen. At least the music is nice, but it's sad, of course, because sad music is the only respectable funeral music. Family members are huddled in the corner near the casket, whispering quietly. It sounds stilted. Someone chuckles at a joke that was made, and the room dissolves into awkwardness. There's a certain eeriness to hearing laughter at a funeral.

Satoru’s arm is still around Suguru’s, he realizes, so he drops it quickly and puts a bit of space between them. The few inches feels like miles of emptiness and he wants to close the gap again, but he can't. Not when the others are looking at them like they're an alien species that doesn't belong here.

Suguru ignores the dirty looks and the confused ones too. He crosses the room with waning confidence and walks up to one of the pictures boards to inspect it and perhaps reminise. Satoru follows behind him like a puppy.

They are a ton of pictures, and Satoru can't make much sense of most of them because he doesn't know who anyone is. Suguru silently points out the ones of himself and Satoru smiles in awe at the cute child Suguru was. He's still cute now, of course, just a different kind of cute. An older kind, more tired.

Suguru asks Satoru to accompany him as he approaches the casket. Satoru would never say no. They walk up slowly and it breaks Satoru’s heart to hear the little intake of breath Suguru makes when his eyes land on the body of his deceased grandmother, so still and probably looking eerily unlike herself due to the heavy makeup and stiffness of her positioning.

Satoru doesn't like the sight of dead people, even if they're strangers and they died peacefully. He doesn't look away, but rather looks on curiously, and if to discover something. He finds nothing but stillness.

Suguru kneels on the bench and Satoru kneels beside him. He bows his head, clasps his hands, and says a private prayer. Then, they recite the Our Father and Hail Mary in a whisper.

Pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death...

After that, they have no more excuses for not speaking with the rest of the family. Suguru stands up from where he was kneeling and Satoru does too. They hold hands for a second before letting go. Suguru sees his parents across the room but doesn't go over to them. He talks to his grandpa instead. Satoru stands patiently and quietly until he's introduced, and then he pretty much keeps his mouth shut all the same, only speaking when he's addressed directly.

Suguru doesn't approach his parents, so they approach him. They corner him, actually, quite literally. Satoru can tell just from the way they look that they're cruel. Imposing and cold, they swarm at Suguru like vultures.

And Suguru isn't taking it well. He shrinks back in fear, looking like he's desperate to fall back into the shadows and never be seen again. Satoru holds onto the back of his blouse, practically clinging, like he's afraid Suguru is going to melt to the floor.

"And who is this?"

The way his mother asks isn't conversational or kind. It's judgemental and argumentative. Controlling, like, I didn't give you permission to invite someone. How dare you bring someone else with you.

Suguru answers with surprising strength. “Satoru Gojo,” he says, sounding determined. Satoru is proud of him for being so brave.

She eyes Satoru up and down. Satoru has dealt with worse but it's still really sh*tty. He resists the urge to flip her off. He shakes her hand and then Suguru’s father's too. He does the dick move of clasping his free hand on top of Satoru’s in a blatant display of power. The conversation fizzles from there.

"Where are you staying tonight?" She's addressing Suguru, staring at him coldly. She won't even look at Satoru. Suguru’s father won't look at any of them.

"A hotel."

"Which one?"

"The one off route sixty-four."

"You should stay at home tonight."

"We already paid for the room."

"I don't care. You're in town, for once. You're staying at home."

Suguru gives in too easily. Satoru wishes he would've put up more of a fight, or even straight up said no, but he gets it. It's hard to do that without causing a scene and a funeral is not the place to do that.

Suguru’s parents get distracted by the arrival of new guests and that's when Suguru drags Satoru to a corner. Satoru notices the tears in his eyes and he just wants to scoop him up in his arms and protect him from the world.

"Are you alright?"

"I want to kill myself," he whispers. Chilling words to hear in a funeral home.

Satoru doesn't know what to say or do. He reaches up and strokes the curls away from Suguru’s eyes, and then wipes away a tear that slips down his cheek.

"Let's go make out in the bathroom," he says eventually, because that's his backup plan, his last resort.

Suguru laughs a little but follows Satoru anyways, out to the lobby and down a hallway until they get to the men's room.

Funeral home bathrooms are always very nice because people burst into tears a lot when their relatives or friends have died and the best place to hide while sobbing is in the bathroom, apparently. The carpet is soft and regal and everything smells like roses and perfume.

"Hey Suguu?”

"Hmm?" Suguru hums, already in the process of setting his hands on Satoru’s waist and lifting him up to sit him on the countertop, next to the sink.

Satoru gets distracted for a moment staring at his muscles, which just lifted Satoru’s entire body easily in one swift motion. The kid is strong, there's no denying that. He shakes his head, determined to say what he set out to say. "You know, we could still stay in the hotel tonight if you want. They really can't stop you from making your own decisions."

Suguru drops his hands to Satoru’s thighs and rubs up and down, stepping in between his legs and spreading them wider. He pulls Satoru closer and then kisses him chastely on the lips. Satoru likes this, that they can kiss each other casually without it being a big deal. It's probably not a good idea for his heart, which jackrabbits in his chest the entire time, but it's still nice.

"I know. It's alright. I really f*cking don't wanna go back, but they'll be so pissed if I don't."

"Okay. Just know you have other options, you know?"

"Right. Thank you for being so kind to me."

"Of course. You deserve only kindness."

"So do you." Suguru leans in and kisses him hard, and that ends the conversation.

Satoru holds Suguru close, hands clasped heavy on the back of his neck and keeping their faces pressed together like he's afraid to let go. Actually, he is afraid to let go. He's afraid because Suguru might say something like I want to kill myself and Satoru just can't have that, you know? He can't have that. So he keeps their presses together and kisses with vigor even when he hears the door opening.

It's a mistake. Of course it's Suguru’s dad walking in and seeing them just like this. In retrospect Satoru should've dragged Suguru outside, maybe even back to the hotel. Maybe even all the way back to their apartment in New York. Anywhere but here.

“Suguru!” He barks, voice loud enough that it might be heard on the other side of the door, in the horrifically quiet lobby of the funeral home. "You disgusting-" and Satoru can hear it, can feel it, that awful word coming even before it's out of his mouth. He does say it, he does.

You disgusting fa*ggot.

Satoru feels Suguru tense up like a statue made of marble but he doesn't turn around, probably too paralyzed by the tone of his voice, his awful father who has no doubt said this to him and worse so many times throughout his childhood. Satoru keeps one hand clamped on the back of Suguru’s neck like a vice, half to keep him from collapsing to the floor and half to stop him from turning around. He lifts his other hand and flips him off, a big f*ck you, hoping this and the sight of their colossal gayness will get him to go away.

He doesn't leave, though. The door stays shut and Suguru’s father stays standing there with this angry violent look on his face and Satoru keeps his lips smashed against Suguru’s and wonders if Suguru can see what's happening from the reflection in the mirror. He holds Suguru’s neck tighter at the thought, as if he could protect Suguru from such a thing. He'll be damned if he doesn't try.

"Leave us the f*ck alone," Satoru says when he finally feels calm enough to detach his lips from Suguru and speak. His voice shakes but it sounds cold and heavy. He isn't messing around. He is so pissed off.

The man who may actually be the devil himself hardly even looks at Satoru. He dismisses him completely, like he isn't even human. He stalks forward and latches his claw-like hand on Suguru’s arm, tugging hard.

"If you know what's good for you, you'd step away from him, son." He's speaking to Suguru, the tone of his voice both pejorative and threatening.

"f*ck off," Satoru hisses, grabbing him by the wrist and braking his grip on Suguru. This, too, is a mistake. It crosses a barrier and brings them closer to an actual physical altercation. Suguru is still stock still and staring at Satoru with big eyes. Either dissociating or on his way there. Satoru is on his own and he's not going down without a fight. "You and I both know you're not going to start something right here," Satoru warns, clutching Suguru tight, eyes wild. "So leave us the f*ck alone."

He goes to grab Suguru again, completely ignoring Satoru.

Satoru isn't having any of it. "If you touch him one more time, I'm gonna start screaming and I'm not gonna stop until someone comes in here and sees the monster that you are. Stay the f*ck away from him."

There's a heavy pause.

He touches him again and Satoru starts screaming.

It lasts for about three seconds until he gets decked in the face and spits out blood all over the mirror. When he looks up again, Suguru is crumpled to the floor and his father is gone.

What the hell.

“Suguru are you okay?

He has his arms around his knees and he's sobbing while rocking back and forth. Definitely not okay. Satoru wipes his blood off on the back of his hand and crouches down so he can look Suguru in the watery, teary eyes.

"Let's get out of here, baby. Let's go back to the hotel."

"We can't," Suguru cries. He's surprisingly lucid considering how still he was just a moment ago, unmoving like he was made of stone or ice or something even colder. "We have to go to my parents' house."

“Suguru, no, we definitely do not have to do that. He just punched me in the face. They abused you for years. We can go back to the hotel."

"No, Satoru, I have to do this. It's my fault and if I don't- If I don't... I don't even know, I just can't not do this."

Satoru sits back on his haunches and stares at him for a moment. He looks like a child like this, curled up on the floor of a funeral home bathroom, crying hysterically. Satoru sighs. "Alright, fine. But if he touches you again, I'm calling the f*cking police."

Chapter 44

Chapter Text

They actually do end up stopping at the hotel, if only to grab their things. Satoru jams his belongings angrily in his bag as Suguru cries and cries and cries, packing his suitcase much neater than Satoru.

"If he touches you again we're coming right back here," Satoru warns again grumpily, not messing around.

Suguru nods and sniffles, wiping at his nose with his hand. "I'm sorry," he whispers.

"It's not your fault," Satoru sighs, wanting to reach out and comfort Suguru with physical touch but he knows it's not a good idea. He knows Suguru won't respond well to that right now when he's wound so tightly like this, looking like he's a few seconds from running away.

Satoru’s face has stopped bleeding by now but he's sporting an ugly bruise on his jaw. It blossoms like a gross, dark flower, all black and blue and purple. A painful reminder of just who they're going to be sharing a house with tonight.

"Your dad is an asshole."

"I know."

They drive the rest of the way in silence.

Suguru’s parents' house, as it turns out, is very nice. Satoru isn't surprised. It's large, in a gated community at the end of a cul-de-sac. There are tall, healthy pine trees lining the posterior of the property and beyond that there's nothing but empty land.

They ring the doorbell. Suguru doesn't live here anymore and neither of them are comfortable just walking through the door. His mom answers it and lets them inside, but she seems reluctant and very unwelcoming.

Satoru doesn't care. He's too pissed off to feel uncomfortable and unwanted. She shows them the rooms in which they'll be sleeping and Satoru sets his bag down in the room he's assigned while Suguru does the same. They meet each other in the hallway, unsure of what to do.

"Are you alright?"

"I hate it here," Suguru whispers. He steps forward and unexpectedly wraps Satoru in a hug, squeezing him tight. He rests his chin Satoru’s shoulder and sighs again, this time the sound much more relaxed, as if he feels comfortable like this. It makes something warm blossom in Satoru’s chest, to think that maybe Suguru finds comfort in him enough to want to be near him when everything else is going to sh*t.

He isn't ignorant enough to know how important this is, that Suguru is hugging him first and asking for what he wants and not being afraid to do that with Satoru. Part of childhood trauma is having parents who make you fearful of even asking for a necessity, so Satoru knows how big it is for Suguru to be asking for physical affection and comfort like this. It means he trusts Satoru’s not to use it against him to hurt him and that means the world to Satoru.

So he sets his arms around Suguru’s waist and rubs his lower back. Suguru holds him tighter and rocks them back and forth, shifting their weight from side to side. They pull away after a long while and Suguru is slightly smiling at him, his expression soft.

It feels momentous. The fact that Suguru can feel safe enough to smile in a place like this, a home that must be riddled with traumatic memories, makes Satoru want to kiss him hard from the freeing amount of pride he feels at the fact that yeah, maybe Suguru is deeply traumatized, but he's getting better in a way, and he's growing from it. Any victory, no matter how small, is still a victory.

They still have a lot of uncomfortable sh*t to do, like go downstairs to face the monsters of Suguru’s past. It sounds a lot more dramatic that way, but Satoru feels like they can afford themselves some melodrama. Suguru has been through a lot, if the physical and mental scars he bears are anything to go by.

So Satoru sure as hell doesn't want to go downstairs, and Suguru sure as hell doesn't want to either, but they both know they have to. Satoru holds out his hand and motions for the stairs. Suguru interlaces their fingers.

"Shall we?"

Chapter 45

Chapter Text

Only fifteen minutes later, quite a few facts are clear to Satoru:

First, they don't want Satoru in their house. At all. They think he's a scum, not only because he's a friend of Suguru’s but because he's gay too, and because he's not exactly buying into their "great parents" front. They glare at him with contempt but the gazes are gilded with forced, polite smiles which are miles away from reaching their eyes.

Second, however way they choose to look at Satoru, they look at Suguru a million times worse. Satoru has never seen so much hatred in a glance before, but he sees it here and now in the way they look at Suguru when they think Satoru isn't paying attention. It's horrifying, because Suguru notices, and he cowers away from it like he's afraid they're going to start yelling or throwing heavy objects at him or whatever it is they might do. Satoru can't even begin to imagine what Suguru thinks is in store for him.

Third, they're manipulative liars who only care about saving face. Satoru is sad to admit he doesn't think he would pick up on any of this if he hadn't heard Suguru’s side first, and yeah, that really f*cking sucks, because not many people have had the advantage of hearing Suguru’s side first. Which means that his parents have somehow managed to get everyone on their side, by pretending to be supportive, loving parents who give their child everything he asks.

Satoru can see it clearly, though: they hate him with all they have in them. Yet they still care about how they appear to others. Having a lot of money means they get to live in luxury without affording Suguru that same benefit. Satoru wonders if they've ever manipulated Suguru with financials, and of course they probably have. He can only imagine what that entails. He'll have to ask Suguru later.

Regardless, they're only downstairs for an hour or so. The conversation is stilted and uncomfortable. Suguru hardly speaks and Satoru isn't very keen on responding either. They watch TV in front of the fireplace. Satoru wants to curl up beside Suguru or at least hold his hand but he knows that would get Suguru into trouble and that's the last thing he wants.

Around nine o'clock they head up to bed. It's insanely early but Satoru would rather be anywhere than sitting on the couch across beside Suguru’s mother and diagonal from his father. Suguru seems to feel the same way because when Satoru stands up saying he's tired, Suguru bolts up too, like a gut reaction.

"Why don't you stay a moment, Suguru? We'd love to have a talk with you."

Uh-oh. Satoru hadn't even thought that might happen. Now worried and wondering how he can possibly save Suguru from being alone with his parents, Satoru blanches. He glances over at Suguru who is having much of the same reaction, face pale like all the blood has drained from it, eyes wide in fear. His hands are shaking.

Satoru wants to wrap his arms around him and whisk him away, take him back home to New York where they can huddle together in their apartment and never go outside into the cruel, ugly world ever again. If only that were possible, Satoru would love Suguru like he deserves and would make sure he would be happy, always.

There's a stilted silence. Satoru’s mind is whirling with ways he can get Suguru out of this, excuses he can make to either pull Suguru upstairs or stay down here with him. None of them work, and time is ticking.

"Go ahead, Toru. I'll just be a moment."

Suguru is staring at him with deep, worried eyes that convey meaning. Like, there's nothing you can do.

Satoru nods and tries to give Suguru a reassuring smile. He's not sure if it's conveyed through his facial expression but it's worth a shot. At the last second, he brushes his knuckles against Suguru’s lower back as a form of comfort. It's short-lived and through a layer of t-shirt but it still makes Satoru’s skin tingle.

Retreating back upstairs feels sickening this time because he knows he's leaving Suguru down there alone with his parents, even after he promised not to. He wants to wait on the stairs to eavesdrop and make sure he's okay but he's afraid of being found out and getting Suguru into even more trouble. Besides, they're speaking too quietly for him to hear anyways.

So he heads upstairs and lies in bed and waits for Suguru.

Chapter 46

Chapter Text

A long time later he hears voices and footsteps in the hallway and stands up abruptly. He left the door open but he can't see anything because it's dark. Nothing sounds inherently wrong but he's still so worried, anxiety is bubbling through his veins.

It's not a fun feeling. Especially when he can hear hushed whispering. Not Suguru’s voice. Suguru is quiet and submissive. Satoru knows him well enough to be certain he would never speak back to his parents.

It's strange, because to some extent Satoru understands. Suguru has faced abuse since childhood and the trauma has taken its toll on him. The resulting psychological damage is severe. It explains why Suguru jumps every time he hears Satoru enter the room—an innate reaction from years of verbal and physical punishment, most times probably for doing nothing wrong at all.

The whispering stops sharply and a door closes down the hall, not Suguru’s but his parents'. Satoru waits with bated breath for a moment before deciding it's safe and stepping out into the hall. He slips into Suguru’s room but knocks quietly on the doorframe to announce his presence. He watches through the dark, with only the hallway light creeping into the room, as Suguru jumps at the sound.

"Hey Sugu, it's me," Satoru whispers stupidly, not waiting for an invitation before he crosses the room and sits on the edge of the bed. "Everything alright?"

"They'll kill us if they find you in here," Suguru whispers, eyes wide, hands shaking. He isn't crying but he looks close to it, his dark eyes shiny and glistening. In the lack of light, they look black and fearful.

"It's alright," Satoru soothes, smoothing a hand up Suguru’s arm. "They've gone to bed already. They won't find me in here."

"Okay," Suguru concedes, but he doesn't relax.

He doesn't look like he's going to say anything, either. So Satoru takes it upon himself to ask, "So what did you guys talk about?"

"They want me to move out. They don't want me to live with you anymore."

"What?" Of all the topics of conversation he could've guessed, he isn't sure why he never thought of that one. There's a beat of silence where the words sink in, and Satoru is faced with the idea of living alone again, this time without Suguru.

It was easier before he knew what he was missing, not to live with Suguru. He hadn't minded staying inside all alone, never going out with friends, acting depressed—no, probably suffering from actual depression. Just going to his classes and doing his work and moping around, always.

Now, the thought of Suguru leaving him has a dark, heavy weight sinking to the pit of his stomach. His heart beats a little faster and in that moment, everything in his body aches.

Suguru can't leave him.

He thinks of how they've become so codependent on each other these past few months. He thinks about how much they need each other. How it's mutual, that even though it seems like Suguru needs Satoru more to wake him from his nightmares and hold him close to calm him down, Satoru needs Suguru just as much, if not more.

He needs Suguru to be there when he gets home from a long day at classes and the lab. He needs to hear him singing in the shower or watch him make dinner for them together. He needs to sit on the couch and rest his head again his shoulder and watch Planet Earth with him until he falls asleep just like that before it's even nine o'clock. He needs to be hugged when he's tired or sad or cold or any in between, he needs to feel that warm steady body against his and that even steadier beat of his heart that tells them they're both alive together, that here in this moment they are both living and breathing, occupying adjacent spaces in this godforsaken universe and somehow hanging on, despite it all.

Satoru doesn't remember when he started caring this much about Suguru but it doesn't really matter when it happened, all that matters is that at some point he did start caring for Suguru too much and now here they are at these ugly crossroads and he feels his heart break especially when he looks up, catches Suguru gaze, and sees the few tears streaming down his cheeks now.

Satoru sighs, leaning forward enough to reach his hands out and brush them away. Gently, of course, because he's always gentle, even with Suguru’s darkness and his pain. He wipes the wetness off on his pajamas and then pulls himself to sit cross-legged on the bed, attentive to Suguru and ready to listen. "Do you want to move out?"

He looks startled, though, like a deer caught in headlights. It takes Satoru another moment to realize that no one ever really asks him about what he wants, so he doesn't have an answer prepared or even thought of, but by the time this moment passes and Satoru understands, Suguru is already stumbling through an answer.

"I- ehm, I don't really..."

Satoru nods encouragingly, but even now he can feel the frown on his face. What if Suguru really does want to leave? What if it doesn't matter what Suguru wants, and his parents somehow manipulate him to do what they want him to do, like always?

“Sugu, remember this is what you want, not what anybody else wants. Just you."

At that, Suguru shakes his head vehemently. "No, I- I don't want to leave. I don't want to live on my own... I've no idea what I'd do without you."

Smiling at him gently, as if to reward his openness and self-disclosure, Satoru holds his palm open on Suguru’s knee. An invitation. Suguru takes it tentatively and entwines his fingers with Satoru’s, feeling a little nervous and twitchy but he relaxes slightly when Satoru strokes his thumb up and down the side of his hand.

"I don't know what I'd do without you, either," Satoru tells him, feeling honest and unbearably out in the open. It's good for him to be near Suguru because he's always trying to set the good example by being willing to divulge personal information, which means he's challenging himself to do that because it definitely doesn't come naturally.

Suguru quirks a smile but it drops almost instantly. "It doesn't matter what I want, though. I have to move out by next month or else they'll stop paying for school altogether."

Oh. The financial manipulation Satoru had suspected earlier now makes sense. Of course, paying for Suguru’s college means they get quite a bit of say in where he lives, since they are the ones paying rent.

"Are you going to?"

Suguru nods slowly. "I have to. I can't pay for it myself. I still have three semesters left."

Satoru hums, deep in thought. "There are always other options, Sugu.”

"But what, though?"

"We can figure something out. Like if we... If we move to a new apartment but you just tell them you're living by yourself... They'll only see the new address and not that we're living together, obviously."

"But wouldn't they- Well, I don't really know how it works but I feel like it wouldn't be that easy. The whole reason they don't want me living with you is because they don't want me to be with you and if they find out I've gone and done that even after they threatened me and told me no..."

"They wouldn't know, though." Satoru squeezes his hand reassuringly. "No matter what you decide, we'll make it work, okay? Even if you want to move out and not live with me anymore. If you still want me, I'll come whenever you want me there okay? Even if it means I have to practically live there but still go to mine every night."

"I don't want to sleep apart," Suguru whispers.

"Then we won't. Whatever you want, we'll make it work. If you want to stay with me and say f*ck you to your parents, and they stop paying, we'll figure it out. I actually have an interview next week for a research position and the pay is really great. We'll figure it out, yeah? I promise we will."

Suguru starts crying again, but he looks at Satoru like he's grateful. "Thank you. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You don't have to worry about it, love."

He laughs a little even though he's crying and wiping away the tears. Satoru can tell he's relieved and maybe even a little bit happy, and that's a big feat when they're at a place which holds as many horrendous memories as this house does.

"I'm sorry for crying."

"Don't apologize, Sugu, you're fine. I can't even begin to imagine how hard this is for you."

Sniffling, he laughs again and rubs at his face. "You make it so much easier."

"I'm glad. We'll talk more about it later, but just know that whatever happens, we'll make it work. So everything's good now, yeah?"

"Yeah. Thank you."

"Alright, good. You all ready for bed, kiddo?"

He gets a nod and a weak smile in response.

"Perfect. I'll see you in the morning, then." He stands up, squeezing Suguru’s hand one last time before letting it go. Then he cups Suguru’s face with his palms, the skin of his cheeks feeling warm and smooth, and presses a soft kiss to his forehead. When he pulls away, Suguru’s eyes are closed like he's revelling in the feeling. Satoru’s lips are likewise tingling from the chaste contact and that's one of the many signs that lead him to believe he has feelings for Suguru. Lately he's been trying to deny them but he feels too tired to do that right now.

When he's almost to the door he hears that lovely, deep voice behind him whisper, "Good night, Toru.”

So Satoru braces his hand on the doorframe and gives him one last warm smile. "Night, kiddo."

Chapter 47

Chapter Text

He wakes up at half-past two with a sinking feeling in his stomach and the monition that something is wrong. It's difficult to explain how the deep, heavy feeling in his stomach somehow drives him to get out of bed, but it does, and he's glad for it because something is wrong.

The bathroom door is cracked open and the light is on. Satoru hears sniffling and gagging and it sounds like someone he knows very well. He inches forward through the dark hallway before approaching the bathroom door and peering inside as best as he can. He can't see much, but the telltale posture and figure of Suguru. Of course.

He makes his presence known by whispering Suguru’s name until he turns around and sees him. Satoru steps in the room but leaves the door open behind him because the bathroom is small and he's afraid of making Suguru feel claustrophobic.

Suguru gets claustrophobic sometimes but to Satoru at least it's unpredictable. Sometimes, on rare occasions, after his nightmares, Satoru will try to hold him to calm him down like he always does, but Suguru will shove him away and pant heavily, saying he feels trapped. Satoru figured out the darkness worsens the feeling of entrapment as well, so now he almost always flicks the lights on, unless he's told not to. Always listening to Suguru for cues, being attentive and trying to figure out exactly what he needs and how to give it to him.

"Oh Suguru..." Satoru sighs when he realizes what's happening. He's sick and nauseous, probably from nerves and stress. There has been an insane amount of pressure on him today and it's probably all hitting him right now, after trying desperately to keep it bottled up so he wouldn't break in front of so many people.

Satoru has hardly had time to think about it, but in small quiet moments he has let his mind wander to the past few days, attempting to figure out what the hell changed to make Suguru seem so different, opening up more and somehow being more reckless too, in the way that he cornered Satoru into a strange sex agreement. It isn't normal, it isn't safe, it isn't comfortable. Obviously Satoru is going to do everything in his power to protect Suguru always, but that doesn't mean what they're doing is a good idea.

Hyper-sexuality is a result of trauma, and that has always been a part of who Suguru is. He seeks out dangerous situations because he believes he deserves to be at risk of getting hurt at the very least. He was in an abusive relationship for years apparently, going back to the same monster who harmed him time and time again just so he could satisfy that strange drive for sex which perhaps confuses Satoru the most.

It seems he vacillates between periods of depression and periods of hyper-sexuality. They're interconnected, interwoven like thread and it's horrible because during either, there is always a risk.

"I feel like sh*t," Suguru whispers, clinging a little harder to the toilet before leaning over and dry heaving into it. He looks horrid and sickly, completely done, and at his worst. The trauma, the fear, the danger, the risk... all of it is taking its toll on him, ruining him. Satoru isn't naive enough to believe he can save him, or anyone for that matter. But he'll be damned if he doesn't try.

"Is it alright if I stay with you?"

Suguru doesn't say anything, but he does lean back and collapse against the side of the counter, his breathing labored from all the heaving.

Satoru takes in his sickly pale skin and the way it's covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and he sighs. “You poor thing."

He's grown attached to his roommate after all these difficult nights of watching him suffer and trying to take care of him. He cares about Suguru a lot, he realizes. He doesn't want him to be in pain.

So he takes care of him, wetting a washcloth and using it to wipe up his face and his mouth. He also leaves for a moment to find a glass of water and returns with it for Suguru to rinse his mouth, which he does. Then he feels sick again and heaves over the toilet, and they start the process all over again. It's frustrating, but there's nothing else to do. Satoru rubs his back and keeps him company through it all, gathering his long hair in one hand and keeping them away from his face as he pukes up the contents of his stomach.

He knows how much Suguru likes it when people plays with his hair. Satoru has experienced his love for it on many occasions back in their apartment, during quiet nights in when Suguru would lie his head on Satoru’s lap and Satoru would slide his fingers in his hair. No matter what he did, entangling his fingers in his his, trying to braid them, scratching lightly at his scalp with his nails—Suguru always responded positively.

So Satoru takes that as permission to do it now, sitting beside him and stroking his hair away from his face, holding it in place so it's one less thing to worry about. At first Suguru seems shy and disgruntled by Satoru being in the same room as he pukes up his guts in the toilet, and Satoru gets it because it definitely is a vulnerable position to be in and it's part of human nature to hide when you're sick and defenseless. But eventually he relaxes and decides not to give a f*ck, too preoccupied by throwing up. Satoru rubs his back through it all, wishing he could actually help somehow.

It lasts nearly an hour and by then Satoru’s knees ache from kneeling on the hard tile floor. He can only imagine how Suguru feels, since it's four in the morning and Satoru is so close to complaining even though he isn't even the one who's sick.

Suguru falls asleep against the wall and Satoru struggles to pull him up into a standing position to heave his sleeping body back to bed. He wakes up before they're even out of the bathroom and lulls his head to Satoru shoulder, wrapping his arms around Satoru’s waist and leaning on him completely for support.

It isn't easy, but Satoru gets him back in bed. He pulls him close and hugs him until he falls asleep again, because Satoru can't deal with the way Suguru is shivering with fear and sickness, so afraid he made himself nauseous.

When he's certain Suguru isn't awake anymore, he detaches himself and slips back into the guest room. He would love to sleep close to Suguru tonight but he actually is kind of worried about what his parents would do if they found out. He doesn't want to get Suguru into any more trouble than he already is.

It's also a bummer to know that if Satoru hadn't joined Suguru on this trip and showed up uninvited to a funeral, his parents probably never would've known Suguru is living with Satoru, and thus never would've threatened to stop funding his schooling.

Satoru closes his eyes and squeezes a spare pillow close to his chest at the thought of Suguru moving out. He knows he told Suguru earlier that they would make it work no matter what, but that's assuming that Suguru still wants to see Satoru after he moves out. And that... that's hard to swallow.

Because really, if they don't live together, Suguru isn't forced to spend time with Satoru. Even now, it's always Satoru initiating contact and trying to get Suguru to open up. They've come so far, leaps and bounds ahead of where they were at the beginning but Satoru is still worried Suguru somehow doesn't want to be around him.

Realistically, that's wrong, of course. He knows Suguru wants to be with him because he's said it multiple times, but more than that he's showed it through his actions.

Like when he would bring Satoru lunch last semester because he knew Satoru always forgot to eat on certain days, or didn't have time to make anything. Or when he hugs Satoru close because he just knows he's cold because he's a freeze baby. Or on the rare occasions when he asks to be held because he doesn't want to feel alone.

Suguru isn't very good at asking for what he wants, but he's getting better. This aversion to vocalizing his desires makes sense because he grew up in an environment where every behavior resulted in punishment, no matter what. His parents' abuse has made him timid and shy, too afraid to be honest with his wants.

He's growing, though, and Satoru can see it already. Like how he nearly demanded they form a sexual relationship between each other. That situation still makes Satoru sick, and he doesn't know what to think of it, but if there's one good thing to come from it, it's that Suguru is finally asking for what he wants. What he wants might not be best for him but at least he's verbalizing it.

Two hours later and Satoru still can't get to sleep. He feels like sh*t, he's nervous for the funeral ceremony, and he doesn't want to have to see Suguru’s parents again. He sits up in bed and glares out the window where the sky is beginning to light up. The sun hasn't peeked over the horizon yet but it's approaching it and the sky is turning from black to gray to blue. He wants to talk to someone, but Suguru is asleep and he'll be damned if he wakes him.

He only has one option, really, because there's only one person on earth who would ever be up this early by choice and actually not mind talking to Satoru.

“Gojo?” There's laughter and shuffling on the other end of the line. "You're up early."

Satoru presses the phone tighter to his ear and flops back on the bed. He should probably go outside, so as not to wake the rest of the house, but it's cold and snowy and he doesn't wanna put socks on. "Shut up, Shoko. I need to talk to you."

"Alright, alright. What's up? How's the road trip? Clifford is great, by the way."

Satoru rolls his eyes. "Good, I'm glad." He had Shoko watch Clifford since he couldn't logistically bring a dog with him on a roadtrip like this.

"So, how's everything going?" Shoko prompts gently like she knows Satoru needs it. She probably does know. They've been friends for a while, to the point where they can read each other even over the phone, just through words and tone of voice.

"It's, um, interesting to say the least. I don't even know where to start?"

"Are you in a hotel right now."

"No. Suguru’s parents' house."

"What? Why?"

Shoko doesn't know they're here for a funeral. Satoru tells her this.

"Oh. Huh. So is it weird, then, with his family?"

Satoru sighs, pressing the phone closer and staring up at the ceiling. "His dad punched me in the face yesterday. Busted my lip and everything. Thank god I was wearing black, otherwise the blood would've ruined my jumper."

There's a short burst of stunned silence on Shoko’s end. She eventually asks, "What the hell? Why did he punch you?"

"It's a long story."

"I'm assuming you're calling to tell me this story."

"Right. Well, I have to give you the background. So essentially a few nights ago Suguru was drunk and horny and he wanted to f*ck this middle-aged man at the hotel bar, and I didn't want him to because he always chooses shady people and ends up getting hurt."

Shoko makes a sad noise of agreement. "Like Toji.”

"Exactly. So Suguru, being the genius that he is, suggested I f*ck him instead."

She’s quiet for a long moment, and Satoru would think the call was cut short aside from the fact that he knows Shoko too well. And lo and behold, she responds nearly a minute later. "So did you?"

Satoru clenches his fingers together nervously, and then releases the tension slowly before smoothing his hands out on the blue duvet and picking at a loose thread on the otherwise near perfect comforter in the coldly near perfect room in the horrifyingly near perfect house.

Perfection. That's what Suguru’s parents expected of him all through his childhood, setting expectations so high he never had a chance to reach them. Setting him up for failure. And when he failed, they punished him.

He pulls the thread but doesn't rip it away. He keeps pulling and thinks that if he doesn't stop, the whole entire duvet will unravel.

"Satoru..." Shoko’s tone isn't judgemental or disappointed. Just. Worried.

Satoru sighs. He's been sighing a lot lately. It's getting annoying. "I did."

Shoko doesn't say anything.

"Is that bad?"

"No... Not necessarily. I don't know about you two. I mean, you know how Suguru is. But I think... I think you guys are good for each other."

"We're not together, though. I'm just helping him out." Satoru laughs a little, but it doesn't feel funny. "Scratching an itch, if you will."

"What does Suguru have to say about this?"

"You think I know? You know f*ck well we haven't talked about it at all. All we did was have a very extensive conversation about our preferences in the bedroom. Like, we covered every topic imaginable."

"Wait, what?"

"What do you mean what?"

"How many times have you had sex with him, mate?"

"That's personal, Ieiri.”

"Satoru."

"Define sex."

"Satoru."

"Fine. Three times. Kind of."

"Kind of?"

Satoru decides to go for blaise in the hopes that Shoko won't realize how much this is actually affecting him. His stomach is churning with guilt and worry but still he keeps his voice steady. "I finger-f*cked him the first time, then watched him jack off and basically told him what to do, and then yesterday we made out and dry humped each other until we came, so."

"Jesus."

"I know, okay? I know I'm awful." Satoru groans frustratedly and decides to get up, pulling on warm clothes so he can go outside and speak aloud without fearing he's going to wake the entire house.

"You're fine, Satoru. Seriously. I know you, and I know how you handle things with people you care about, so I have no doubt that everything between you two will be okay. Whether you decide to have a relationship with him or not."

Satoru nods along as he rushes out of the house, feeling on edge because of how quiet everything is in the eerie morning. Once outside, he breathes easier, walking down the street to get farther away.

"That's the thing, though. I could do a relationship with him, I think it would be interesting and rewarding and maybe I could help him. But he doesn't want a relationship with me, Shoko. He just wants to sleep with me. Not just me, but anyone. He just wants to sleep with someone and he knows I get worried when he finds strangers or goes to Toji, so he's thinking that it'll be mutually beneficial if we sleep together. So I can keep him safe and take care of him and he can quell his insane sex drive."

"Are you sure he's not just saying that, though?"

"Just last week he was crying about how much he loves Toji and how upset he is that Toji found someone better to replace him. And like, he's never... I don't know- I mean, he's affectionate with me and everything but it feels like it's just because he wants some sort of physical connection and it doesn't matter who it's from."

"Really, though? I mean Toru, come on, think about it. He lived with me for a while and never once did we hold hands or cuddle in his bed or kiss for God's sake. Don't get me wrong, Suguru is very touchy-feely but he also doesn't let people in, like, ever. Which is exactly what he's done with you. Even if he thinks of you guys as just friends right now, which I doubt he does but if that's the case, the trust that exists between you two is important and if he hasn't realized it yet he will, and he'll see that's not something he can find with just anyone. You're good for him, Toru, and I'm sure he sees that."

"I just feel so gross, though. Like he's using me for sex. Because he is."

"But you have to know he cares for you."

"Yeah, but not enough to respect the fact that I don't want to have sex without a relationship. I've told him that and he just doesn't care."

"He's probably not ready for a relationship, though."

"Yeah, f*cking hell, I know he's not ready for a relationship. He's a mess."

"So what are you going to do?"

"Go along with it, I guess. I mean, the sex isn't bad. It's great. Because I like him. And want to take care of him. I'm just worried because he could just turn around and leave me for someone else, just like that."

"So go on and make him see how much he needs and wants you."

"It's not that simple."

"Have you tried talking to him?"

"No, but it doesn't matter. He made it clear what he wanted."

Shoko makes a noise of agreement. "Alright, I get that, and I respect your decisions and everything. For what it's worth, I think you're doing the right thing and I think it'll all work out eventually."

"Thanks."

"So how are things with his parents and everything? I still don't get why his dad punched you in the bathroom of a funeral home."

"Oh, right. So like, you'd think after we've been sexual with each other, things would be weird, but they're not. I love daytime Suguru, he's enjoyable and fun to be around. Like, he's normal, and it's great. Sometimes he spaces out or dissociates or gets like, triggered by something but most of the time it's as if he never faced any trauma."

"That's good then, yeah?"

"Yeah. We haven't really been awkward around each other even though we've done things that just friends shouldn't do, and he doesn't have any problem acknowledging our activities or whatever. So that's nice. At the very least it's brought us closer together."

"Nice."

"So at the wake, his parents came over and were being real assholes to him. And to me, but I don't give a f*ck. They're just awful people. They left to go talk to someone else and be their fake-cheery selves, and Suguru was really upset so I suggested we go make out in the bathroom because it seemed like the only logical thing to do, even though obviously I see the flaws in that now."

"sh*t, Toru, yeah. What the f*ck?"

"I like kissing him, and we had kissed a sh*t ton earlier that day, remember? It made him happy. I wanted to make him happy again. So we were making out in the bathroom and his dad came in and started screaming, calling Suguru all this awful hom*ophobic sh*t and completely ignoring me. And he tried to get Suguru to leave but he had completely clammed up and refused to move so I was just holding him, and the asshole tried to pull him away from me so I screamed, and he decked me in the face and fled. So, yeah."

"sh*t, Satoru…”

"I know. And we stayed over last night and it's weird as f*ck, Shoko. Like, his parents are so strange. I can see how hard they were on him when he was a kid and I don't know, there are just so many different ways they abused him and it makes me feel sick because there's nothing to do about it."

"Right. The best thing is distance. Which you're not getting when you're sharing a house with them."

"Exactly." Satoru looks out at the evergreen trees and the vast, desolate fields beyond. The white snow, the gray sky, the cold air which makes everything bleak and depressing. "You know, last night they threatened him and said if he doesn't move out from my apartment within the next month, they'll stop paying for his school."

"What?"

"Yeah, I know. He has three more semesters and not enough financial aid from Colombia to keep going there if his parents stop paying. So he's gonna look for an apartment as soon as we get back, and when he finds one he's gonna move out."

"Seriously?"

"I guess so." He crouches down, suddenly feeling very tired and just wanting to curl up in the snow and fall asleep for a while. "I don't know what I'll do when I'm living all alone again."

"Oh Satoru…” Shoko says softly, in quiet acknowledgment that the situation Satoru’s in right now isn't exactly the easiest problem to deal with. "You'll still see him, though, like you'll visit each other and hang out and everything. They can't stop you from doing that."

"I know, but you get what I mean."

"I do. You think he's not going to put any effort into being around you anymore, because you think the only thing holding you together is the fact that you live together."

"It's true, Shoko.”

"Maybe at the beginning, but not now. He's dependent on you."

Satoru scoffs. "For sex."

"At the very least. So you'll have your agreement and you'll see him every day, then."

"I guess."

"It'll be okay. Whatever happens."

"Yeah... I guess I know that. Thanks, though, for listening to me whine and everything."

"Of course. So just keep spending time with him and you'll figure things out from there. You've accepted that you have a crush on him, right?"

"Calling it a crush makes it sound so childish."

"You like him and you want to be in a romantic relationship with him."

Satoru groans, standing up and pressing his phone harder. "I don't know, though. I want to be whatever he needs me to be. I want to take care of him. What if the best thing for me to be to him is just a friend?"

"Then you'll be just a friend. But you know it's not. You know you two are meant to be."

"I don't know that for sure, though. I don't know. It f*cking sucks."

"You'll be fine. Just be careful. With Suguru and with yourself."

"Yeah, yeah, of course."

"I mean it, Satoru. You have to take care of yourself first. Everything else comes second, okay? If you're uncomfortable with something, don't let anyone push you into doing it. Do what's best for yourself first, and then worry about taking care of other people. You can't just give your life away."

Satoru makes a noise of affront. "I'm not selfish, though. Suguru needs my help and just because that's not best for me doesn't mean I'm not gonna do it."

"If you keep living like that, you're gonna get hurt. You have to talk to him and tell him what's making you upset or uncomfortable with whatever agreement you have. This is obviously toll on you and you already have so much on your plate. I have no idea how the hell you're doing it all."

"Yeah, yeah, alright. Thanks, Shoko.”

"Of course. Be careful. Good luck."

Chapter 48

Chapter Text

Satoru trudges back through the snow to the house, and slips back into bed but still doesn't fall asleep. Around daybreak he takes a shower and gets ready, before sitting in the guest room for a long while just thinking about everything.

Breakfast is stilted and uncomfortably quiet. The four of them sit at the kitchen table and make no attempt at conversation. Mostly, Satoru stares at his plate, Suguru stares out the window, his dad stares at the newspaper, and his mom stares at the three of them like she's waiting for someone to say something. The dialogue she hopes for never happens.

After that, they get in the car together and drive to church. Satoru hasn't been to church in years and it seems fitting that he's going for a funeral. They're all dressed in black and Suguru’s mom is doing her makeup in the mirror. His dad clenches the steering wheel tightly and drives aggressively, cutting people off and getting pissed when they honk at him.

In the back, Satoru holds Suguru’s hand. Suguru stares out the window like he did at breakfast but this time the scenery is moving and he seems to be lost in it. Satoru would be more worried that he was dissociating if it wasn't for the fact that every so often, Suguru squeezes Satoru's fingers or runs his thumb over Satoru's knuckles.

They should be more concerned about hiding the fact that they're holding hands, because his parents are right there and they could turn around at any moment and see. But Satoru realizes he doesn't care. In fact, in some way he wants them to turn around and see Suguru holding onto Satoru like he cares about him, like he wants to be with him. It feels like a victory over evil and Satoru wants to rub it in their faces.

It takes Satoru too long to realize they're driving to the funeral home instead of the church. They pull into the parking lot, and he's confused, until Suguru explains to him that they're pallbearers and will be bearing the casket at church, so they need to pick it up from the funeral home first. Only the men in the family participate, and there aren't enough here at the moment so they ask Satoru to help. He and Suguru are on opposite sides of the casket as the six of them lift it up and carry it outside in morbid silence, sliding it into the van that will transport it to church. It's something Satoru has never done before and it feels wrong for it to be the body of someone he has never met.

At the church, they bring the casket in for the funeral and then Satoru files in beside Suguru’s family to the second row. Bowing before the pew and crossing himself, he wonders how he got here and thinks that if someone told him a year ago that he would be in a small town in Illinois attending a funeral a few days before Christmas, he never would've believed them.

The priest speaks in macabre eloquence but Satoru barely listens, too focused on the reactions of Suguru beside him. He's trembling, hands shaking ever so slightly but Satoru notices. When the priest acknowledges the family Suguru lets out a tiny sob and then presses the back of his hand to his mouth, hard, to keep himself from crying outwardly again. When Satoru looks over he sees tears spilling out of his eyes.

Satoru comforts him in whatever way he can. It isn't much, but he tries. He sets his hand on his lower back and rubs soothingly, giving a steady pressure that proves he's there, that Suguru isn't alone.

Chapter 49

Chapter Text

At the cemetery, they stand in the cold as the priest says a prayer. A few family members speak as well and then they're all setting their roses on the casket, saying their goodbyes.

Suguru is silent and unresponsive to anyone who speaks to him, crying all the while. Satoru sticks by his side, clinging to his coat with a small hand on his sleeve, as if he's afraid he'll float away or simply disappear. As if he thinks a few fingers grasping black wool will ever do anything to keep him safe.

The funeral ends and people scatter, crossing the grounds to their cars which are lined up on the road like ants in a procession. All extended family is invited back to Suguru’s parents' house for refreshments and stilted conversation. Suguru’s parents are still speaking with one of the groundskeepers, giving Suguru and Satoru a bit of time to themselves.

They don't say a word as Suguru leads them away from the uncovered grave, the casket resting deep in the ground and marred with dirt from when the men of the family passed a shovel around to ceremoniously scatter earth over the grave. Someone who works at the cemetery will finish the job.

Suguru walks with purpose through the aisles of graves as Satoru hurries to match his pace, clinging to his sleeve. They walk for a long while, tracing an invisible path until they get to the top of a hill in an area secluded by beautifully old trees.

Satoru reads the tombstones but finds no meaning in them, nothing out of the ordinary.

"What is it?" He asks uneasily, watching Suguru’s face to gauge his expression.

"I used to come here all the time," Suguru says, staring out at the rolling hills covered in graves, each marked by a tombstone, some new but most of them old, especially the ones they're standing near now. "I don't know why. It was always just a place to escape to."

"The cemetery?" Satoru asks, thinking of a younger Suguru coming here to spend time away from home, always running from something. It's a chilling thought. Haunting.

"It's morbid, I know."

Satoru nods in acknowledgment and holds his sleeve a little tighter.

"Come here, I want to show you something."

Following blindly as always, Satoru trails after him, their steps quiet and muffled by the snow. Suguru leads them to a gated garden, the rusty metal door hidden by vines and overgrowth. He brushes them away and fiddles with the broken lock, pulling the gate open as the metal creaks and groans like a ghost, upsetting the otherwise silent ambiance.

The garden belongs to a single family, each member with their own memorial to mark their grave. Suguru pulls him deep into the garden to a lone tombstone estranged from the rest with an inscription that nearly makes Satoru’s heart stop.

ALL MY LIFE AND SADLY

THE DAYS HAVE GONE BY

I WHO DREAMED WILDLY AND MADLY

AM HAPPY TO DIE

"sh*t, Suguru."

"I know."

"That's so f*cked up." Who even decided to put that on a tombstone? Usually the inscriptions said nice sentiments like dearly beloved and may her memory be eternal or something lengthier like safe in the hallowed quiets of the past.

But this is... different. This is dark. And Suguru is running his hand along the top to brush the snow away, touching it reverently like he relates.

He doesn't know what to do. Why does he never know what to do?

Sometimes there are no words of comfort to speak. Sometimes there are only hushed breaths in the cold, Satoru’s arms winding around Suguru’s back and holding him tightly.

They don't say anything and they don't let go until a while later when they hear his mother calling for them, her cold voice carrying over the graves of the dead.

Chapter 50

Chapter Text

By now, the upswings of Suguru’s hypersexual tendencies are more predictable, to the point where Satoru is hardly even surprised that night when Suguru begs for Satoru to f*ck him.

They're sitting downstairs on the couch together, in front of the smouldering fire which warms the room but can never truly get rid of the chill in the house that supersedes all physicality. His parents have already gone to bed, and all is quiet.

"You're sure?" Satoru asks, for the millionth time as they scale the stairs and head up to Suguru’s childhood bedroom and it feels so wrong in the worst ways. The only part that feels right is Suguru pressed up against his back, all warmth and comfort. It feels like their bodies belong together, even if nothing else does.

"Want you so much," Suguru whispers in his ear, guiding him towards the first door on the left at the top of the stairs. He pushes it open and it creaks loudly enough for them to both cringe, worried that any little noise will wake Suguru’s parents. What will they do then?

It seems Suguru doesn't care. He closes the door behind them and there isn't a lock on it. If there was, Satoru would feel a lot better about what they're on the precipice of doing. The thought that anyone could walk in at any minute hangs in the back of his mind, uncomfortable like storm clouds visible on the horizon. Threatening.

They stand there in the middle of the room and stare at each other. Suguru looks impatient but Satoru is dead set on slowing things down, so both of them have time to back out if they need to. At the rate they're going, the only person who's likely to chicken out is Satoru, which is pathetic when he thinks about it because Suguru is the one who's traumatized.

So Satoru stands there and pauses under what he hopes is the guise of checking Suguru out. He takes the time to catalogue characteristics about him because he's afraid this is a huge mistake, and after this Suguru will run away from him and they'll never be this close again.

He looks at Suguru and he sees the dark clothes he's wearing, some of it leftover from the funeral and some newer additions. Earlier in the evening, after the last of the extended family had left the house, he swapped his dressy trousers for black leggings. He's still wearing the expensive-looking black jumper from earlier but it looks cozier now in a way, rather than cold and stiff and standoffish. The dark colors make his winter skin look unapologetically pale and smooth in the best way. He's like a god of the underworld in a way, dark and troubled and so irrevocably handsome.

Suguru starts pulling off his clothes and Satoru isn't going to stop him. He leaves them in a messy pile on the floor, forgotten almost immediately after they're dropped to the ground. In a moment he stands there in nothing but his underwear like he's waiting for instructions and Satoru sighs, overwhelmed and kind of like What am I going to do with you?

"Any preferences?"

"f*ck me hard."

"Alright," Satoru agrees, motioning for Suguru to situate himself on the bed. They haven't discussed nearly enough logistics for this to be okay. He's read so many warnings about rushing into sex, especially as intense as Suguru wants, but there's nothing to do now. They've already crossed the line. "You know the color system, babe?"

Suguru nearly preens, a bit shy as he sits on the edge of the bed, shuffling backwards until his head hits the pillow. It takes Satoru a moment to realize it's because of the term of endearment. His long legs are clumsy but there's something so sickly attractive about it, how he fumbles and squirms to get comfortable. As if he's innocent and doesn't know what he's doing, as if this isn't something he's done time and time again and even asked for it explicitly by name. It's all a guise, even if the clumsiness is real. He is not so pure.

"Yeah."

Satoru digs through the front pocket of Suguru’s bag until he finds what he's looking for, condoms and lube. "Tell me, so I know we're on the same page."

Suguru inhales a sharp breath and sits up a little, obviously affected by thoughts of what they're about to do. "Green means go, yellow is slow down, and red is stop."

"Good, that's perfect baby," Satoru praises, distractedly petting his ankle as he gets undressed. "You know I'll always listen to you. It's okay if you need to slow down or stop. Just be honest with me, okay? I need to know that you'll say what you're feeling and you'll tell me if you need to stop."

"Yeah, yeah," Suguru gasps, probably just to placate Satoru and get things moving faster. He lifts his hips off the bed impatiently, already visibly hard even through his underpants, which is impressive since they've only just started and he hasn't touched himself at all. He must be an imaginative person, then, probably fantasizes about things like this all the time. Knows exactly what he wants, and how he wants it.

"You trust me? You trust me to take care of you?" Satoru is looking for confirmation, knowing that Suguru probably doesn't give a flying f*ck about trust. But Satoru does, it's important to him, and it's not something he's willing to compromise. He sits on the edge of the bed as Suguru squirms with need and want, so impatient and unwilling to wait another moment.

"I do," he cries, too loud for the fact that the house is otherwise dead silent. His parents are in the room at the end of the hall and any little noise has the chance of waking them. "I do, Daddy, I trust you."

For someone who has never been called Daddy before and frankly has no desire to be called Daddy at all, in any facet of his life, Satoru takes it well. In fact, he might be kind of getting used to it. The way Suguru says it makes it sound desirable, makes something deep and hot unfurl in his core and that freaks him out a bit, if he's being honest.

He fights to embrace it, though. Or at the very least, ignore it. He crawls up the bed on his hands and knees, hovering over Suguru and staring down at him. Why does it always feel like he's taking advantage? He feels as though he's in an unfair position of power and Suguru is some innocent flower about to be corrupted. He knows that isn't true but that's what it looks like when he looms over Suguru, something dark and depraved hovering over an actual angel with pale skin and big eyes glistening with unshed tears.

Deciding to test it out and gauge his reaction, he asks, "What's your color?"

"Green, Daddy, please."

Satoru scans his visage a moment longer, searching for any hint of worry or regret. He finds nothing but want. Dipping down, he pulls Suguru’s bottom lip between his own lips and kisses him softly, teasing in a way that promises more. Suguru keeps his hands by his sides, twisting his fingers in the sheets, like he's not sure if he's allowed to touch and this time Satoru doesn't give him explicit permission, he just leaves him questioning and wondering. There'll be lots of opportunities for touching later. For now he wants Suguru to want it, wants the desire to build until it's unbearable, making the release that much more pleasurable.

They kiss for a while but Satoru keeps his body elevated above Suguru’s so the only contact they have is their lips. For once, he's seeing the pay off of going to the gym at least twice a week for almost two years now; he can plank above Suguru as they kiss and not feel strained or tired at all.

Suguru on the other hand is quite impatient with their position. He keeps jutting his hips up and brushing them against Satoru's, moaning too loudly all the while.

"f*ck, you have to be quiet," Satoru groans, stopping abruptly and pulling away after one of Suguru’s particularly loud moans.

Suguru whimpers but otherwise he does as he's told, muffling his soft sounds against Satoru's skin and containing them only somewhat effectively. It'll have to do. Satoru isn't cruel enough to silence him completely; in fact he isn't sure exactly what it would take to get Suguru to turn perfectly quiet.

From there, they kiss for a while until Satoru is just as hard as Suguru. That's when he taps Suguru’s hips and tells him to get out of his underwear. Usually Satoru finds it sexy to undress other people but with Suguru there's something about ordering him to do something and watching as he scrambles to do as he's told, desperate to please.

Suguru fumbles with the fabric, sliding them down his thighs which are marred with unmistakable scars, the proof of his omnipresent childhood abuse. In another universe, Satoru would take his time, running his fingers along the small red marks. In another universe, he would kiss all over them, being warm and soft. In another universe, he would show his appreciation and care to Suguru, proving how worthy he is of treatment that is tender and loving.

They're not in another universe, though. They're in this one, and as much as Satoru is realizing he likes Suguru, he's still not stupid enough to think this is anything but a mutually beneficial relationship that involves kissing, sex, and other intimacies. If they were in a committed relationship maybe Satoru would stroke his thighs and kiss his scars. But they're not.

So he doesn't.

Instead, he pretends to be impatient as Suguru struggles to get out of his underwear, which gets tangled around his legs. He waits and watches with raised brows as Suguru blushes and kicks them off the bed, suddenly bashful.

"You finished now?"

"Sorry," he mumbles, embarrassed.

It takes everything within Satoru not to crack a smile. To fight it off he busies himself with something else, dragging his hands down Suguru’s skin and noticing the trail of goosebumps he leaves behind, feeling a bit smug.

They have hours at least until they have to get up in the morning for one last day in this godforsaken town. But for some reason it feels as though the clock is ticking and they need to hurry.

So he wastes no time in running his hands all over Suguru’s tummy and hips before slipping a hand between his legs, foregoing his dick which is aching hard and blushing at the tip. Satoru has yet in their relationship to really actually touch it with intent. There's something about denying Suguru that's so pleasurable and he revels in the way Suguru whines at the touch being so narrowly missed to the spot where he wants it the most.

The gains are more worth it where Satoru's fingers are at, anyway. Suguru will thank him later, he tells himself, as he strokes the skin of his taint and enjoys the sound of his stifled whimpers. He's still not quiet enough but it'll have to do, for now at least. He has no idea what to do about the noises the bed will make when he's f*cking him hard later, because even now when they just shift around a little it creaks loudly.

Uncaring, Satoru presses his dry thumb to Suguru’s tight pink hole and dips just the tip of it in, careful not to go any further without lube. Suguru’s reaction is immediate, crying out sharply and wiggling his hips away from the touch, body torn between asking for more and begging for less.

He's tempted to ask his color but he doesn't, knowing it'll be green, trusting Suguru to say something if it isn't. Instead, he says, "What do you want, baby? Tell me what you want."

"You," Suguru gasps, "I want you."

Satoru knows what he means but he's not done playing. "Be more specific."

He pulls his thumb out in favor of rubbing it around his rim, feeling it flutter as Suguru tenses. His skin is the hottest here at his core, actually radiating heat and Satoru would be lying if he said he doesn't like how it feels to be so close to this primal warmth.

"In me," he whispers, eyes wide and staring down towards where Satoru is touching him. "Want you in me, want you to f*ck me... Want to feel you for days."

Satoru circles his rim some more with his dry finger before retracting and getting the lube. He coats his fingers, swirls one around his entrance, and then pushes one in without preface or warning. The thing about anal is that it's most pleasurable around the actual entrance, and everything else is just a different and perhaps uncomfortable pressure, unless you go for the prostate. Satoru isn't there yet, and even though he knows it would be more pleasurable to Suguru to stay shallow with his fingers, he f*cks him deep and hardly pays any care to the outside of his hole.

Suguru actually cries out this time, loud, almost a scream. Immediately Satoru pulls his hand away, finger all the way out, hole left empty, and glares at him. "If you're going to be that loud, we can't do this. I told you to be quiet."

"Sorry- I'm sorry, it's just-" He falls quiet again, pressing his lips together obediently at the glare with which Satoru levels him.

He waits a long moment, making sure Suguru is actually going to obey orders before pressing his finger inside again and swirling it around. He's not mad at Suguru but it's easy to pretend to be, especially seeing how worked up it gets him, how desperate he is to please. How it makes him frantic just trying to make Satoru happy, trying to be docile, trying to be subservient.

Suguru moans this time through his closed mouth, muffling the sound, and Satoru lets it slide. He's trying. Besides, it might be the hottest sound he's ever heard before in his life, and it's all for him.

"Still sore from when I f*cked you the other day?" It's a rhetorical question but Suguru gasps at it in response, nodding his head a little before biting his lip to keep quiet.

What a sight, Satoru thinks dully, wondering what in the hell he's going to do with a man in bed like this, his long hair splayed out on the pillow, tangled curls around him like a halo. Absolutely, horrifyingly beautiful. Words aren't enough.

He f*cks Suguru on one finger for a while, knowing it's not enough but enjoying the fact that Suguru rolls his hips and f*cks himself down on it like he's trying to find more. So f*cking filthy, Satoru doesn't know what to do with him. So he slips another finger inside and scissors them to spread him out, taking his time even though there's something in his heart telling him to hurry and rush. A few more pumps of his fingers and Suguru is throwing his head back on the pillow, moaning through closed lips so it sounds like a melodic hum.

"'M ready-"

Satoru doesn't listen to him. He pulls his fingers out and Suguru squirms with the emptiness. The next time he pushes them back in, he adds another for a total of three. It's a tight fit and he knows Suguru must be sore, but he doesn't really care as he pumps them in and out at a fast pace, leaving Suguru beautifully breathless with it all, taking it so well without complaints.

Tempted to press his pinky finger in too, Satoru refrains because he knows there are limits. They'll work up to that. For now he's satisfied with just three and the way it has Suguru’s skin turning red and heated, glowing and glistening with sweat, his cheeks rosy pink and unbelievably cute.

"Color?"

"Green. Please."

Satisfied that he's gotten Suguru down to monosyllabic words, and one-word sentences, and f*cking begging, he pulls his fingers out and slides a condom on himself. His mind flashes back to their conversation a few days ago when they first arrived in Elmhurst and discussed their sexual preferences. Satoru has always thought it was stupid for guys to obsess over f*cking bare, because there isn't really that much of a difference in terms of sensations, but right now the thought of it is making him harder than he already is and he can't get the idea out of his mind. Maybe that'll be possible for them to try in the future. It makes him burn with want.

"Are we doing it like this?"

Suguru shakes his head, gripping the sheets hard, nearly incoherent. "Whatever... Whatever you want..."

Satoru likes the way Suguru is now, splayed out on the bed, spreading his legs open wider as an invitation or maybe just an acquiescence. Giving up all power, handing it right over, willingly, to Satoru.

He grabs his hips and strokes them softly to get him to relax a bit before rubbing his tip over his hole teasingly. Since he's a responsible person, he drizzles more lubricant over Suguru’s hole and then covers the condom in it, spreading it around until everything is slippery and slick. Suguru may like it when people are rough with him but that doesn't mean Satoru is going to hurt him by not being thorough.

The first press inside is like standing outside in a thunderstorm, feeling the earth shake with every strike. Exciting and electric, but dangerous.

Satoru gets lost in it, in the warm heat of Suguru, and so he presses in too quickly and Suguru cries out in pain, hands fumbling in the space between them like he's trying to get Satoru to stop but he doesn't know how.

He pulls out completely before he even thinks about it, before the foggy haze of lust even clears from his mind to realize that was probably more than a bit uncomfortable for Suguru. He sits back all the way on his heels, putting a distance between himself and Suguru, mind spinning, completely ready to give it all up just to make sure he's okay.

"Wait- No- What?"

Satoru soothes him with a hand on his thigh, palm grazing the shimmery sweat coating his smooth skin. "Sorry."

Suguru tugs him closer by his arm, like he's trying to get Satoru to stick it back in him, even though he just hurt him.

"Want you," he whispers, brow furrowed like he's confused, and why doesn't he understand that Satoru isn't just going to keep f*cking him, when he's in pain like that and obviously not opened enough? "Need you..."

"Baby, relax."

He finally meets Satoru's eyes again, having previously been distracted by the sight of Satoru's dick, hard and bobbing between them when he moves. "Why'd you stop?"

Satoru shakes his head, incredulous. "Because it sounded like it hurt? And you were trying to get me to stop?"

"I wasn't," Suguru argues. "I like it when it hurts."

Satoru is a little speechless at that. He stutters for a moment and then ends up saying, "Yeah, well, I don't like it when it hurts you. So. We're doing it my way. Which means if it hurts you have to tell me."

Suguru stares at him.

"And that's an order," Satoru adds, feeling stupid. It must be effective, though, because Suguru complies, nodding desperately and still trying to pull him closer.

In order to open him up more, Satoru goes back to his fingers, starting all over again with one. Suguru actually whines with impatience, reaching his own hand down to slip his fingers inside beside Satoru's, but Satoru doesn't let that happen. No way. He bumps his hand out of the vicinity of his ass, commanding him to not touch himself. Then, just to be a tease, he f*cks in and out with only one finger for a long while, long after he's ready for more.

The sounds he's coaxing out of Suguru are soft and muted, again like he's trying his hardest not to be noisy. It isn't working very well but Satoru will give him a pass, for now at least. He slips another finger in, keeping a moderate pace for another few minutes. Then he squeezes the third inside and Suguru’s face scrunches up as he gasps, open-mouthed and desperate.

Patiently, Satoru counts to one hundred in his head, three times over, pumping his fingers in and out all the while, periodically slowing to spread them wide and stretch Suguru out. Coaxing him open. He likes the feeling of his fingers against Suguru’s walls, stroking the warm heat, really feeling him. It has Suguru writhing with pleasure and desire, the need for more.

So Satoru goes back for the lube and really drizzles it over his hole, working it in with his already messy fingers. The lube is getting everywhere, and they really should've put a towel down before they started, because nothing will be more suspicious than Suguru having to wash his sheets in the morning. It's too late now, though, there are already wet spots on the bed from lube, precome, and sweat. It's gross but neither of them care, too focused on the warm heat of their bodies pressed together and how it'll feel when they finally cum.

"Alright, baby. I'm gonna go slow, okay?"

Suguru nods again, frantic and happy that Satoru is finally going to give him what he wants.

Given the okay, Satoru pushes in once again, this time with more care and gentleness. He gets as far as just his tip pressed inside, Suguru’s body squeezing tight like he's trying to pull him in even more. Satoru doesn't let him, though, just stays there and enjoys the fiery heat burning low in his core, spreading all throughout his body. Nothing is ever as good as the first press inside. He could stay here forever if it wasn't for Suguru’s desperate need to cum.

So he takes it inch by inch, slowing sinking deeper into Suguru and pausing often to give him many opportunities to adjust. This time, there are no cries of pain. Suguru only winces and that's when Satoru stops, stilling completely and feeling the flutter of Suguru’s hole around him as he struggles to relax.

"Christ, you're huge," Suguru whispers, shifting his hips back and forth like he's trying to get used to the feeling of fullness. Satoru is only halfway in. He leans back a bit, taking his eyes off Suguru’s face in favor of looking at the place where they're connected, seeing Suguru’s pink hole stretched around his length, and he thinks I could cum right now if I really wanted to, just from the sight of this.

"You good?"

"Yeah, yeah, you can go faster."

Satoru doesn't go faster. He sinks in another inch and then waits it out, feeling Suguru clench around him even tighter. Deciding to be nice, he removes one of his hands from its tight grip on Suguru’s hip, in favor of placing it on his dick instead, stroking softly. The pleasure from the touch is enough to get him to relax a bit more, allowing Satoru to slip in deeper.

"Are you comfortable like this?"

"It doesn't matter," Suguru mutters back, impatient.

Satoru glares at him and again doesn't listen, taking matters into his own hands. He grabs the extra pillow and manages to get it beneath Suguru’s ass, changing the angle so it's easier and more comfortable for both of them. Using his hands, he spreads Suguru’s legs a little wider, conscious of the limits to his flexibility and trying to make sure his inner thighs won't be too sore the next day from being splayed out like this. He hikes one of Suguru’s legs up so it's bent at the knee, foot flat on the bed.

Then, he holds his hip again with one hand, uses the other to tease his co*ck, and goes another inch. Then, pause. Inch. Pause. Almost there.

When he's fully seated, he lets out a deep sigh and watches Suguru’s face for any signs of discomfort. He's at the point where if Suguru suddenly decided he didn't want sex anymore, he would pull out right away. It's crazy to think not everyone would be willing to do that.

He doesn't find a single sign or expression that depicts anything other than pleasure and relief on Suguru’s face. Suguru, whose eyes are locked with Satoru's, lips parted, wanting more. Always wanting more.

"Daddy, please."

"Be quiet," Satoru bites, not willing to hear Suguru call him Daddy anymore. It makes him feel weird. Not bad, just weird. He moves all the same, pulling out to the tip and pushing back in, the sensation so good he sees stars. Eventually he finds a good pace, moderate and satisfying, matching his thrusts to the movement of his hand on Suguru’s dick, jacking him off.

Suguru squirms at all the different sensations and mixtures of satisfaction, moving restlessly on the bed even with his hips pinned down. His hands fist the sheets, and Satoru's under the impression he would be touching himself if that wasn't out of bounds.

"Faster, faster," he gasps, back arching off the bed. He keeps trying to match Satoru's thrusts by rolling his hips but Satoru won't let him, one hand squeezing his hip tightly to pin him down and keep him from doing exactly that. Making Suguru take what he gives him.

Still, Satoru obliges, not because Suguru wants him to but because he himself wants to. He moves faster, f*cking harder, getting frustrated with Suguru being too loud the immediate moment he starts a quicker pace. He slips his hand off his shaft, running it up his tummy and chest, overpassing his neck and going straight for his mouth, two fingers slipping inside to keep him quiet. Suguru sucks on them obediently, tongue wet and warm against his touch. It works for a while, keeping him busy and full, enough that he isn't so noisy.

The sound of skin on skin fills the room, loud and unashamed. Satoru doesn't relent, f*cking in faster, knowing that the wet sounds and everything else too is too much to be inconspicuous. They're going to get caught and then where will they be?

Satoru doesn't care. Suguru asked for this—no, begged for this, and Satoru is finally giving it to him. He f*cks harder and harder still, the bed shaking, millimeters away from hitting the wall and really making a noise that will no doubt wake up everybody in the house if their previous loudness hasn't already.

Suguru goes completely pliant, his body melting into the mattress and relaxing infinitely, only sensual sounds of pleasure leaving his mouth from where his tongue is still pressed beneath Satoru's two fingers. His toes are curled, fingers too twisting around the sheets, tugging on them because he doesn't know what else to do. Satoru hikes his one leg up higher, easily because Suguru is so compliant and malleable like this, drowning in ecstasy.

Approaching the precipice of his org*sm, he somehow gets too loud even with two fingers in his mouth.

"Suguru, f*ck, shut up," Satoru gasps, about to cum himself. He's been careful to keep the bed from slamming against the wall, even if it is already squeaking obscenely, and he'd really rather not have Suguru all his efforts by crying out instead.

Suguru ignores him, still being too loud, uncaring.

Satoru pulls out to punish him, knowing how close he was to falling over the edge and cumming hard. "You have to shut the f*ck up," he whispers harshly, staring deep into Suguru’s eyes. They've gone hazy, compliant like the rest of him. Satoru knows then that there's no way he'll be quiet unless Satoru physically makes him shut up.

So he thinks through his options very briefly and then flips Suguru over harshly with a shove so he's lying on his tummy. Suguru gasps at the unexpected movement and shifts his hips, sticking his ass in the air. Satoru presses him down by his lower back, sliding the pillow beneath him so his co*ck is trapped between his crotch and the pillowcase, unable to be touched. Then he drops a heavy hand to the back of Suguru’s head, stroking his neck softly and pressing his face into the sheets until he can't make a single sound aside from a very muffled mumble or moan.

"Kick me if it's too much, okay?"

Suguru nods as best as he can with Satoru pressing his face into the mattress. The movement isn't visible but Satoru can feel it through the hand heavy on his neck, so he takes that as the go-ahead, lining himself up again and pushing in slowly, making sure Suguru feels every inch.

He's tighter in this position, legs pressed together with Satoru's on the outside this time, and he can't f*ck in as deep as before but somehow it feels even more pleasurable. Maybe that's just due to the unabashed view of Suguru’s ass he has in this position, which really makes up for any discomfort. Satoru can't resist from touching, so he keeps one hand on Suguru’s neck and the other explores his body, groping his ass and feeling him up in a way that's both reverent and dirty.

This time, he doesn't start slow. As soon as he's pretty sure Suguru has adjusted to the change in position, he pounds into him without apology, chasing his own org*sm. Suguru must like it, that Satoru is using him for his own pleasure, that he's just lying there with his face pressed to the mattress so he can't make a sound, because his body is limber and pliant, letting Satoru do with him as he pleases.

In all honesty, the minute Suguru showed any sign of not wanting to do this, perhaps by fighting against Satoru's hold or kicking him as Satoru told him to do, Satoru would stop immediately. But this is Suguru’s idea, and even though it doesn't seem to be the most pleasurable, and Satoru thinks his body is surely sore, Suguru seems to be enjoying it.

Is he masoch*stic? Maybe. Satoru could totally see that as a possibility for someone like Suguru, someone who seeks out dangerous situations like an abusive boyfriend and goes back for more, always. When they completed that survey for sexual preferences, he said he wanted to try sustained or major discomfort or pain.

Satoru doesn't even know what that entails, but it sounds intense.

In terms of pain, what they're doing right now isn't much at all. Momentary and minor. Satoru is okay with that, as long as Suguru is too.

"You're so good, baby," Satoru whispers to him, leaning down and kissing his shoulder, wondering if he's allowed to be tender like this, wondering if it's something Suguru wants. He figures after all the harshness of earlier, they can afford a small bit of affection. So he keeps going, whispering sh*t like, "Look at you, so good, so good for me. You're doing so well, just taking it like you're supposed to."

Suguru gets a little noisier even with a mouthful of sheets, but he hasn't kicked Satoru yet so Satoru keeps going, knowing they're both close. As much as he's pretending this is all for him, focused around his own pleasure as Suguru just lies there and takes it, he wants to get Suguru off first. This is about Suguru, about what he wants and what he needs.

So Satoru pounds into him relentlessly, one hand clenched so tightly around his hip that his grasp will leave bruises, the other holding his neck down with an iron grip. Suguru doesn't have much mobility but he finds the small ways to move anyway, twisting the sheets in his fingers and arching his back a little bit. Because he can't make a sound, and his dick is trapped between his body and the sheets, the only indication Satoru has that Suguru is cumming is the way his entire body tenses for a moment leading up to it, and then the tension releases like a tidal wave and he goes completely relaxed, melting into the bed.

It's only a few more quick strokes before Satoru is cumming too, feeling the heat that has been building up in his core finally explode. His vision is obscured by bright white light like he's finally reached eternal paradise and that might actually not be too inaccurate. Unable to hold himself up any longer, he collapses forward on top of Suguru’s strong back and kisses his shoulder one more time before lying still to catch his breath.

"Good?" Satoru asks once he's recovered enough to form a singular coherent word. It's an ambiguous question, meaning both Are you okay? and That was some good ass sex, am I right?

"f*cking Christ," Suguru says, his voice finally deep and quiet enough that there's minimal risk someone will hear. Satoru feels a wave of relief when he realizes they managed to have rough sex in Suguru’s childhood bedroom without his parents barging in on them.

"Was I too rough?"

"No, you were perfect."

Another wave of relief washes over him. Feeling good, he mouths at Suguru’s neck, leaving soft kisses on his warm skin. "Good, I'm glad."

He doesn't want to move but he knows he has to, because there are pertinent things he has to do, like get rid of the condom, and perhaps try to clean up the sheets so Suguru has a place to sleep. Still, it takes way too long for him to roll of Suguru and actually get up to do something. He wants to stay here forever, swathed in warmth and wrapped up in Suguru.

Suguru stays unmoving and face down on the bed while Satoru goes down the hall completely naked and wets a towel in the sink. He comes back and washes Suguru with it, wiping his sweaty back before trying to coax him over on his side to clean up the aftermath of his org*sm. It takes a lot of persuasion but eventually he nudges over onto his side and lets Satoru run the wet cloth over his chest, tummy, and hips.

"Alright?"

"Yeah, thanks."

"I suppose I'll see you in the morning, then."

Suguru flops back over much like he was before, but this time he really cuddles into the mattress, closing his eyes sleepily. "Night, Toru."

Satoru pulls the sheets up to his chin, smoothing them out and running a hand down his covered arm before pulling the quilt up too. Suguru snuggles in even more, seeming calm, relaxed, and blissfully satisfied.

"Night, kiddo." Satoru brushes the bangs away from his face and kisses his forehead for good measure, feeling something warm swell in his heart. It gets colder when he turns away, sparing one last glance back to see him all cuddled up in bed. It feels wrong to leave him especially after f*cking him so hard and being so rough.

It feels wrong, but he does it anyways.