It Was Over From The Start

Coming from a former army who left the fandom and group due to the toxic fandom becoming what it is now, I'm glad you're stepping away from the fandom but also I don't want you to lose the love you have for the group. I can no longer listen to their music or watch content without feeling icky but I hope you can still find a way to enjoy the things you do without guilt. It's a sad thing to bar yourself from your previous interests because of the actions of others and while I have no interest in returning to it, I can see the joy is brings people.

Idk where I'm going with this and I feel like a crusty old lady who no one listens to but I guess I just want to make sure you can still have that joy as long as you want it.

honestly it’s been around a year since i fell out of the fandom and kinda fell out of being super involved with bts because of the fandom. a lot of it wasn’t just... how intense and toxic the fandom is when it comes to voting/streaming/etcetc and a lot of it was because of personal experiences i had with former friends that kinda pushed me away from the fandom and the group. i do still enjoy watching their content and listening to their music on occasion but certainly not to the extent i used to so !!!! im thankful for your words and i agree with you 100% and think that it’s very true !!

know it’s for the better. - g. suguru

pairing: geto suguru + reader, implied gojo satoru + reader

summary: but butterflies cannot see their own beautiful wings, so he’ll gladly worship you quietly.

warnings: canon au, angst (please forgive me ily all), mentions of violence, vulgar language, crude humor, time-jumps, cameos from shoko, megumi, yuji, nobara :3 comfort.

word count: 16.8k

a/n: this fic has been my baby for a month, i’ve poured so much love into it. treat her well <333 loosely inspired by the songs “first love/late spring” by mitski and “waiting room” by phoebe bridgers. there are so many references to so many things in this :) some quotes that i will think about forever. hope you enjoy.

october, 2006.

“nine out of ten times.”

it’s the first sentence you say out loud after minutes of silence, and you’re given a puzzled look. it kinda makes you want to laugh, the confusion etched across his face so foreign that it’s rather intriguing. he’s golden, even under all the darkness. the world makes space for fallen angels.

“nine of ten times… what?”

you resist the urge to thumb that furrow in his brows, the creases looking wrong upon his soft features. you only smile, snuggling closer to him. either the room is magically colder, or suguru forgot to close the window. you give him the benefit of the doubt.

“that i would choose you.”

you’re slurring your words almost, but more from the plain laziness in your movements rather than from genuine exhaustion. suguru hums, fingers tapping along your arm. it may be around four in the morning, but you couldn’t sleep.

the both of you hadn’t been able to for a while.

not since riko, not since toji, and definitely not since the new scar trailing across your stomach. shoko hadn’t been able to make the repair seamless.

you didn’t really mind. a lot of things seemed pointless nowadays.

“and the other time?”

your eyes linger on the strand of hair that always falls imperfectly on his face. a little crack in his flawlessness, though you’re not sure how grand that observation actually is.

you sit up a bit, propping your head with your arm as you look down at his pretty brown eyes. narrow, as they currently are, but still evidently alluring.

“well, i think it’s okay to be selfish sometimes.” you reason, voice soft. sometimes the dependency you had with suguru worried you. waves can crash, but the water itself remains. you think you’ll always be bound to him. his, forever. and yet you say, “i’d choose myself. just for a bit of sanity.”

it’s meant to be lighthearted, but the silence that falls afterwards kills any tone of playfulness that statement might have held.

you wish you had been a little more greedy.

•••

september, 2007.

emotions were complicated things.

it’s complicated to process the bullet you watch fly through a child’s head. it’s complicated to process your near-death experience. it’s complicated to process process the news of your classmate’s death. it’s complicated to process how it’s expected for you to go back to normal. it’s complicated to process everything.

so you curl up further, and hope that the news you’re hearing now is only a nightmare. because again, it’s too complicated to process.

“he killed them.”

and with the way satoru says it, repeats it, you think he wants you to sit up and hug him. be vulnerable, because god knows it’s been so long since you have.

but you lay there, back in the bed that you used to sometimes share with the criminal. the stillness makes satoru’s stomach drop, and he can’t will himself to say it again just for the chance of getting a reaction from you. but how much pain can a heart take? because it felt like yours might give out at any moment.

you didn’t sign up for this.

naively, no, you didn’t sign up for this.

“how many?”

you’re not sure why you ask. any number would have you spiraling, but with the silent refusal satoru gives by not replying immediately, you’re sure the answer would kill you alone.

he knows. he knows the exact number, he’d seen the report.

but he stares at your desolate form, eyes scanning the mess in your room. or, lack of. he hardly saw you get get out of bed these days if it weren’t for missions. the only sign of movement from you were the plushies that used to adorn your bed, now sprawled on the floor. for a second, he wonders if they’re gifted from who he thinks they’re from. but that thought feels stupid the moment he thinks of it, because - yes. of course they were. that man had loved you like his lungs naturally loved air. he loved freely, graceful in the way he cared. about satoru, about you. anyone, really.

so saturo makes a decision, hoping that it alleviates a little bit of the ache that he now concludes he will attempt to shield you from. because he cares about you too much to see you succumb to your own internal wounds. he wants you to be strong, like him. like suguru was. he can’t lose you too.

“i don’t know.” satoru lies, and he hopes that sentence can at least ease your heartbreak. but he feels it just as much. sorrowful, the kind of pain he’s been too familar with for a while now. he frowns when you don’t move.

obstruct from his view, your hands grip your sheets as tight as humanly possible, and you’re sure that you break skin through the fabric. you want to cry, but you can’t. not in front of satoru. not while he’s right there.

because this doesn’t affect you. you didn’t care.

so what? suguru had left you to the wolves. to fend for yourself. he became a monster. it didn’t bother you.

and you try to convince yourself to think the same when satoru sits beside you. you’re still thinking it as his shaking hand places itself on your side.

but you give up when he lays beside you, feeling his grief. and that pain only cements itself further as you begin to quietly sob months worth of misery.

you don’t feel much better after.

•••

march, 2008.

nine out of ten times, you’d like to be given the option to wipe your memory.

the other time would be the ability to travel to the past. it’s hard to decide which could be better, or arguably worse. maybe you could save haibara - tag along on that stupid mission and fight that stupid curse. switch places with him, even. the world seemed a lot duller without him in it. nanami spoke even less than he did before. you couldn’t keep up a conversation with him.

was it irrational to think that you might have been able to kill toji too? he just caught you on an off-day. you’re the reason he killed riko. it’s your fault that a child is dead.

there’s so much to be sad about, you’ve started to confuse those ugly feelings with plain normality. it’s natural to feel like this. you can’t really remember better days. they’ve blurred, causing twisted retroactive interference.

your rock had fled. any form of stability you had crumbled with the weight of your sorrow, and you’re forced to miserably pick yourself back up because you’ve never really been used to being alone. satoru wasn’t really around anymore, and shoko never left her studies. you certainly weren’t abandoned, but, unfortunately, you understood that grief couldn’t just halt time forever.

you’ve mourned so much, it feels silly to still have the same ache.

but how do you even move on? what’s the process like? because you’re almost certain you wouldn’t be able to survive it.

you’ve began to rid any remnants of him in your room; any proof of his existence. clothes, specifically, because they hold on to his scent, and you think if you stop for a moment to actually look at them you might break down again. you see memories in them. times where he’s worn the black t-shirts, or his white button-up. insignificant at first glance, but it’s your life you’re holding on to.

you stuff them into bags as quickly as you can.

if he’s not here, he can’t hurt you.

at least, not anymore than he already had.

you think it’s cruel that you’re stuck with a person’s presence even if they’re not physically there anymore. you’ll always associate this room with him. the world, at that.

and maybe it’s childish that your first response (after the sulking) is to trash his belongings, but you can’t think of anything more rational to do. the universe will move on without him. you can’t be left behind too.

when you’re finished, you’re not sure if the sight of five large trash bags and an emptier room makes you want to sob or hit something. it’s like life has lost it’s color - a new vision, duller than what was deemed humane. torturous.

yet you can’t bring yourself to pick them up and take them out of the room. you’re idle, staring at them like they’re just meant to disappear. you hadn’t realized how much your room consisted of just him.

trash, is what you’re unintentionally calling everything in them. but you don’t think that, never in a million years.

if it were up to you, you’d keep everything exactly where it was, and obliviously continue a cheery facade. but the thing about awareness is that after it’s discovered, you can’t really leave it. it’s branded into your mind, poking at your brain with a stick because it will annoyingly never have the intention to leave you alone.

it’ll sit with you in your darkest hours, and you’re unable to predict when light will shine through.

“dump them.”

you jump, defenses high on alert as you instinctively fall back. almost immediately after, you drop your hands, sighing.

shoko is leaning against the doorway, arms crossed. you’re about to ask her how long she’s been standing there for, but her lingering gaze on your conflicting pile of issues answers your question before you have the chance to.

“i’ll do it for you.” she offers, finally looking up to meet your eyes. they’re a little sunken in, and she looks restless. it’s the first time you’ve seen her in nearly two weeks. she’s ditched the short hair since a few months back, the length sitting comfortably at her chest now.

you dumbly stare, non-respondent on purpose. you don’t want her to do that.

she seems to recognize the discomfort on your face at her suggestion, and you watch as her brows bitterly furrow, a small glare now directed at the bags. but you don’t get much emotion other than that.

“you can’t cling on to this shit. it’s unhealthy.” she softly explains, shaking her head. you wonder if that’s her medical opinion or genuine concern speaking, but you don’t ask her to elaborate. instead, you turn around, taking a seat at the edge of your bed.

you kind of want her to leave.

“what’s healthy, then?” you retort, shrugging. it sounded a bit hypocritical coming from her. shoko had barricaded herself for the past six months, not even offering an ounce of genuine sympathy. in reality, you know it’s because she’s naturally avoidant. she didn’t crave support like you did. she didn’t need it like you had. because shoko has always been independent, never strung up on people. and you envy that more than anything.

“i don’t know.” she answers honestly, pursing her lips. but with one look around your room, and she’s certain it wasn’t this.

hesitantly, lets herself inside, eyes scanning the bareness. if it were any other day, she’d see suguru at your desk, or on your bed. he’d wave, and you would greet her with open arms. everyone knew the two of you were nearly inseparable (if it weren’t for satoru). the room always had a pleasant atmosphere when the two of you were in it. it feels cold and grim now, though. shoko has to fight a shiver.

you observe her, waiting for a joke or two. you’re nearly hoping, because any form of comedic relief had begun to be your craving. you needed an escape from all of this.

but instead, she turns back to you and wordlessly sits beside your tense form. it’s quiet for a bit.

there’s a charm that shines on the top of your desk, catching her eye. it dangles among other souvenirs, and shoko has to avert her eyes when she realizes that they’re all gifts from a certain deceased underclassman.

everything about this room feels like a graveyard.

“satoru comes back today.” shoko suddenly says, letting the first thing she can think of be verbalized. her eyes stay on the wooden floor this time. “he’s been in kyoto for a couple of days.”

you hum, nodding. you didn’t know.

if shoko kept her distance, then it was like satoru had completely faded. you couldn’t even remember the last time he had texted you.

then again, you weren’t sure if you’d even respond.

“i was thinking we could eat dinner together… when he gets back.”

your head perks up. barely.

that sounded familiar. mostly because it had been a routine up until recently. never verbally established, but it was natural for you and shoko to be accompanied by two towering sorcerers as you ate whatever satoru had decided on for the day. he was a picky eater. there’s a bitter taste on your tongue as you realize you’d be missing a member now.

“we can.” you nod, awkwardly kicking your feet back and forth. silence again.

you can feel shoko’s annoyance. how she’s trying to get you to talk, but you’re stupidly stubborn and refuse to. however, she knows you a little too well, and plays the waiting game. because she knows you’re weak when it comes to your heart, and weaker when it comes to the people you love. her included.

it’s not a relief when you finally break. if anything, it’s painful to hear, to watch. and though it’s only one question, it’s so complicated that it feels like you’ve asked her how the universe itself was created. simultaneously, it’s equally as simplistic.

it doesn’t even sound sad. it’s hollow, void of any distinct emotion. you’re staring at the wall.

“shoko…” you don’t pay attention to how she stills and watches you intently. you’re oblivious to the frown on her face, how she leans in just a little closer. and the widening of her eyes as you finish speaking. “how are you… okay?”

you feel particularly pathetic. shoko was so strong. satoru was the strongest. and yet here you were, more fragile than ever. on an alter, you’re a mere viewer from below. simply watching perched gods, basking in all their glory. the difference always evident, never comparable.

and yet shoko stares for a little, dumbfounded.

no, absolutely no one was ‘okay.’ the world was crumbling in front of everyone’s eyes. but you’ve always been a reminiscent person, she supposes. you search for familiarity. it’s harder for you to let go.

“did i tell you that?” she asks, more rhetorically than anything. there’s a teasing tone that her voice holds, but it does little to rid the tension of your question. you slowly shake your head.

“then how do you know that’s true?”

you shrug, fiddling with your fingers. “i don’t know.”

you want to tell her that your thoughts are purely based on toxic comparisons to yourself, but the air feels a little thick already, so you don’t.

“c’mere.”

there is no protest made when she wraps her arms around you, and forces you to fall into your bed with her. the pillows under your heads dip, and you’re enveloped in the softness of your blankets. shoko’s warm, and if you closed your eyes you might mistaken her hold to be like a mother’s affection. evident adoration, just by the touch. you’re derived and soak it up as much as you can, leaning into her.

it reminds you of late nights where you’d have sleepovers and gossip until the sun came up. too tired to train the next day, yaga ordering laps regardless of your visible fatigue. and you’d run with gleeful smiles, energy lifting as you were side-by-side again. an unexplainable friendship one could never truly describe with words, just pure thoughts. it’s sickeningly nostalgic, because you think about the fact that it really had not been that long ago. how quickly things change.

shoko nuzzles her face into your hair affectionately and sighs. she squeezes you tightly. declarative - ‘i’m right here.’ never enough to make up for the lost time and avoidance, but enough for now. because shoko didn’t act like this normally, and for you to see her in such a state meant more than just any regular apology.

“i think you know how to love better than any of us.” she admits, and that sentence alone has you curling a little more into her, your chest suddenly feeling tight. she leans in, and her lips form into a sorrowful smile as she observes you. full of pure understanding. again, a connection that could not be made with words. it feels a little spiritual. she brushes a stray strand of hair away from your face. “that’s why you find it all so painful.”

hesitantly, you offer a sad smile, her words all bittersweet. it makes you laugh a little distastefully, the reality of them hitting you at once. “well, that’s not fair.”

“it’s not.” shoko agrees, nodding. “but it’s a lovely thing.”

you make a face. recently, it’s only brought you suffering. the good bits don’t seem as worth it - as ‘lovely’ as she describes.

you pause, contemplating for a little. and your voice is affirmative, like you’ve never been more sure in your life. you kinda sound like a naive child.

“i don’t want it. take my feelings. i don’t like them.”

it’s true. it’s the biggest truth you’ve ever told with the biggest sincerity. and you know it’s not possible, that you’re stuck like this forever. a soft, easygoing heart that beats for everyone around it. your words make shoko snort - a real genuine laugh. you giggle through watery eyes.

“the world sucks.”

this time, it is a pitying smile that shoko gives you. lop-sided, and hesitant. she feels bad.

her arms leave you, and she opts to instead lay facing you, faces mere inches from one another. you’re both laying on your cheeks, against folded hands. shoko taps your nose.

“you know what i think?”

you hum, sniffing a little as you try to focus on the small amount freckles across her face instead of the overwhelming urge to let some tears fall. it works, for the most part. you count twenty.

“i think the world gives strong feelings to strong people.”

you smile at that.

shoko was something else.

“i’m pretty fucking strong then, aren’t i?” you mumble, tired eyes blinking as you sigh. shoko’s eyes crinkle as she returns the fondness, a hand resting on your cheek.

“definitely.”

and you can only hope she’s right.

there’s nothing that interrupts those sweet moments of tranquillity. where you can act like everything is just a little better, because in all honesty, it was. shoko’s good at making you feel like that.

if you really thought hard enough, this could be just another regular day. you want it to be.

you feel shoko’s finger poke your chest, and she gives you a pointed look. it’s like she could read your mind - subconsciously, as if she had the ability of a third eye.

“it gets easier. every day it gets a little easier. but you gotta do it every day — that’s the hard part.”

she leaves it at that.

you lay together, appreciating each other’s mere presence. and it feels nice. support, like you craved, but words even more. you aren’t able to formulate how much you adore her, but actions speak louder than words, so you shuffle just a tiny bit closer.

you’re not sure how much time passes by.

when shoko stands up, she rids you of her warmth, leaving the cocoon of wonder and comfort she’d so gracefully created for you. yet you feel fine, that isolating shiver now replaced with content. you think you feel a little lighter too.

“be outside by seven. if it’s up to me, we’ll all get sushi. no promises though.”

she’s back to being more standoffish, but still your same shoko. you nod appreciatively, the thankfulness worth the weight of a million tons. your eyes follow her as she walks across the room.

the door shuts, and you’re left alone again.

you can feel your heart beat a little faster, the realization of your commitment to the later plans finally dawning upon you. it would be the first real reunion since then. maybe a chance to talk things out. be levelheaded, get some communal closure.

or, maybe you’d be able to ignore the past and focus on the present. just act like friends eating lunch. because that’s all it was, wasn’t it?

begrudgingly, you force yourself to stand, too aware of the fact that your habits of wasting time in bed have far exceeded a reasonable amount over the past few months. it was time to get better, be better.

your hands grab the first bag.

it’s heavy, as you imagine all the other ones are. but you suppose if you don’t think about what’s in them, it’ll make the process a lot smoother.

you’re nearing the door when you stop.

it’s a small paper, it’s yellow exterior almost blending in with the sunlight escaping through the windows. you inch closer.

and it’s pathetic that the sight of his handwriting on a sticky-note makes you lose your breath. shameful, because how are inanimate objects this damaging?

it’s hung above your desk. by haibara’s gifts, and by notebooks you never really used in this academically-lackluster school.

you stare at it for a while, hand resting over your forehead as you take in every minuscule detail. you let go of the bag.

it’s the last note suguru had ever left you, made a few weeks before his disappearance. before everything went downhill. little poetic phrases that would embed themselves in your mind until death. you’re afraid to look.

it’s neatly written, displayed in purple ink. doodles of clouds and flowers surround the words. he had a habit of leaving them around. you suppose you never caught this one.

there’s a little heart next to his signature, encapsulating just a memory of lost devotion.

‘how strange to dream of you, even when i am awake.’

your hand crumbles the note in a second.

the paper is evidently weak, and when you open your hand back up, the words are still clearly there, haunting you. and you know you don’t have the heart to throw it away. or, realistically - throw anything away.

you fold the note gently, and leave it on your desk. your body yearns to leave, to escape the suffocation of what suddenly felt like walls that were caving in. you slam the door on your way out, bags and all left behind.

you’d definitely prefer to wipe your memory.

•••

april, 2005.

“you’re so annoying.”

satoru grins, standing proudly as you repeatedly attempt to hit him on the head, your touch stopped by his infinity. he’d only recently learned how to control it decently - claiming that he needed to because you had a bad habit of using him as your punching bag.

“you know what though? this is a good thing.” you muse, arms crossing as you finally give up. satoru’s head tilts, and you raise a brow. “no one wants to touch you anyways.”

there’s a dramatic pout that immediately finds itself on his face, and he whines from instinct, letting his guard down for a moment to shove you. you slap his arm before he has a chance to react.

“she’s right.” suguru nods affirmatively, earning a gasp from the white-haired male, and suddenly, suguru is being shoved too. you giggle, briefly making eye contact with him. it’s a little too quick for your preference, but the stolen glance has you holding your breath for a moment.

it’s exhilarating.

suguru is beautiful in a way that is hard to describe. but it’s not from a loss of words; you can speak endlessly about him. he’s everything a person could dream of and more. but it’s little gestures that truly draw you to him. how it seems like he always lingers, attentive and patient no matter what boulders you seem to throw at him. he’ll carry that weight on his shoulders easily, and with the most effortless smile. it’s a gentleness that you weren’t even sure was possible before you met him. he defies all expectations, all normalities.

“oh, i forgot to ask-“ satoru turns to you, raising his brows. sometimes his glasses bothered you. his eyes were freakish, yes, but you also had a conflicting urge to always look at them. “how’d your mission go yesterday?”

you cringe, involuntarily stiffening as you replay the events in your head.

“stupid semi-first grade. i let my guard down for a second and it almost clawed me.” you sighed, rolling your eyes. you fail to notice suguru’s eyes widen. “but we exorcised it right after. i swear i saw nanami shit himself.”

there’s a stark difference in reactions from both boys. while satoru snickers, suguru stays quiet. white and black.

“glad you’re still with us.” satoru beams, ruffling your hair before you have a chance to swat his hand away. “right, suguru?”

all attention flocks towards him, and you and satoru patiently await his response. he’s looking off to the side.

he feels a little childish.

there’s an uncomfortable pit in suguru’s stomach that he can’t shake off, and he swallows thickly, nodding with a dismissive cough. “yeah, glad it went well.”

obliviously, you flash him a thankful smile.

it makes him feel the tiniest bit better.

he wished yaga would pair you two together, or even put you with satoru. an actual backup - not someone below your skill level. haibara and nanami weren’t comparable; they were still new to jujustu. younger, less experienced. he holds a little resentment towards your abilities, and while he knows you’re never sent on missions that are tougher than you can handle, he always has an inkling of worry that lingers uncomfortably. he hates not being around you - not knowing if you’re okay. and he knows you’re a reckless fighter. you brush off the mention of critical injuries and move on, completely unbothered. the burden of stress came so easily when he was around you and satoru.

“you have another one tomorrow, right?”

you hum, nodding as you fiddle with the end of your uniform, sighing softly. “it’s across town i think. not sure who’s coming with me yet - maybe it’ll be shoko if i beg hard enough.”

suguru has to fight a wince. also not an ideal companion. shoko didn’t specialize in combat.

she’d only be actual help if you were wounded, and -

“why not me or satoru?”

he speaks before he thinks, and iternally, he punches himself in the face. he can see satoru stop moving in his peripheral vision. he thinks he sees a smirk. coy, but no words come out.

scoffing, you deadpan. “where’s the practice in that? you guys will kill it before i even get a chance to see it.”

and that’s true, because it’s happened dozens of times before. show-offs.

“we can get kikufuku after!” satoru exclaims, completely disregarding you as you begin to protest rather loudly. “i’ve been craving it. i haven’t had it since last week!”

“wait longer.” you sneer, glaring at him. “i rather go alone.”

now that, suguru would verbally be clearly against, without any hint of shame.

“boo.” satoru deflates, rolling his eyes at you. “that won’t even happen.”

it wouldn’t. you hadn’t earned that trust yet - the absolute certainty that you’d survive if you did a mission alone.

suguru’s glad.

“not yet.” you chirp, and the hopeful smile on your face doesn’t help anything. “but soon enough.”

there’s that unwavering aura you always hold that makes suguru feel a little sick. it’s determination, stubbornness, that follows you and keeps you whole. when you talk like that, words void of any doubt, he knows you mean it. and you’ll accomplish it, because your will for achievement is stronger than your rationality.

but he has you now, right in front of him, so he’ll ease himself of the worry. for now.

“in a million years.” satoru remarks, sticking his tongue out at you, not even bothering to look your way as you hold up a rather unpleasant finger in his direction. playful banter was regular between you two; you fed off of each other’s energy. suguru seemed to be the mediator.

an observer, with eyes particularly always lingering on one certain person.

•••

spring has flowers blossoming again, and you feel inclined to stay out for as long as possible. the confinements of your dorm feels like an obstacle, and it’d be a waste to miss out on the beauty that winter’s absence welcomed.

it’s perfect weather.

the cursed weapon in your hand had begun to feel rather light, your arm adapting to the overpowering weight. you disliked close-range combat, but you were being sent on tougher missions now, so there was no room for complaints. your abilities needed to strengthen.

and it’s frustrating, really. to have to constantly forgo complete confidence and figure out where you’re weakest; you could easily make a list with areas of needed improvement. a lot of your classmates seemed to lack that issue. you suppose what’s worse is that you’re completely aware it wasn’t a competition - but you had convinced yourself that at the least, you needed to stay on their level.

even if that meant working ten times harder, even if that meant exerting yourself past a reasonable amount.

but this routine has gotten you this far, and, sincerely, it hadn’t been too much of a problem to keep up with.

in fact, you could probably do a little more.

“you shouldn’t train so much, you’ll strain yourself.”

your stance falters, though you easily recover within the same second. maybe a little too late, but you tried not to be nit-picky. he was naturally quiet.

“i gotta keep up with everyone somehow.” you quickly grin, trying to calm the visible pants of your labored breathing. it’s futile, and you momentarily turn away, as if embarrassed to look anything but perfectly composed. to look less than him - or anyone, really.

your back is towards him.

suguru can read you perfectly. it’s with ease that’s almost completely overbearing, and some part of him believes that he’s only been put on earth to watch out for you. like it knows that you aren’t the kindest when it comes to yourself.

it’s so natural that he supposes it might be his true purpose.

you only hear him hum from behind you, and suddenly there’s a weight pushing down on your raised weapon, ushering it towards the floor. gentle fingers graze against yours, and you let him grab it from you, albeit with some hesitation. he places it on the floor.

“let’s take a break, yeah?”

he doesn’t even need to coerce you, you’d follow him blindly if he asked. you always do.

and he’s leading you, knowing you’re behind him without having the urge to look back and check. exhaustion lingers, but you’re too entranced by him to focus on the sore ache of your limbs. he’s graceful as he walks.

“we trained this morning.”

you freeze momentarily, looking off to the side with a shrug. it’s not that he sounds hostile - it’s just a bit more monotone than normal. “practice makes perfect.”

suguru makes a noise of acknowledgment, but it sounds a bit absentminded and dull, lacking any understanding. like a huff of annoyance.

“right.”

he shouldn’t be this bitter, this cold, when speaking to you. it’s rough against his tongue, and his entire body, mind and all, is actively telling him to stop. emotions are ugly things, though. it makes people less rational; less aware - say things they may regret.

suguru slows his steps, up until you’re beside him, where you should be. and by a glance at you, he knows he’s gotten too uncharacteristically rigid. you’re looking at him, confusion clouding your head. concern, actually. he sees it now.

“did i do something wrong?”

the meekness in your voice, haunted with worry, clears his senses in a millisecond. his eyes widen. panicked, he feverishly shakes his head.

“no — no. of course not.”

he sees you relax a bit, but you’re still looking questionably at him. your head tilts. “then?”

suguru sighs, swallowing thickly as he stops walking. it’s an enchanting sight, grassy fields just a little off main campus. you see a few flowers.

you follow after him as he sits, greenery cushioning your bodies as you settle. suguru picks at the weeds, his eyes on the floor. he speaks quiet, voice among the gentle breeze as his hair flows in waves. you have the urge to remove his hair-tie and see it fully.

“i just worry about you.”

you don’t even attempt to hide the slight flustered smile that finds itself on your face, body feeling overwhelmingly warm. he’s avoiding eye contact for once. l

it’d be a lie if you claimed you didn’t notice the tension - the smiles, the laughs, the soft-spoken volume of his pure voice. so silky smooth it’d rid you of all your worries in a second. but there’s something so alluring about never saying it out loud. like it’s your little secret the two of you can keep, because adoration itself is something so beautiful it needed to be dragged out for as long as possible. you’ve grown to be a little impatient, though.

you nudge him teasingly.

“don’t. i’m right here.”

and it’s true; suguru sees it as a privilege. to be around your presence, to just talk to you — he worships the ground you walk on, and he’s not sure how to tell you that might be the reason why he worries so much.

instead, he chuckles, head bowing momentarily.

“i wish it were that easy.”

you bring your knees to your chest, giggling lightly.

he’s cute.

undeniably.

“it is.” you urge, dragging out the last syllable as you sway towards him. he meets your eyes. “just trust me like i trust you.”

suguru thinks that you’re sometimes oblivious to the weight of your words. they can be so intimate, and you’ll deliver them like any other sentence. as if you hadn’t just made his stomach churn, and his heart beat a little faster. he trusts you more than a healthy amount. he’d trust you with his life, his future — he’d leave everything in the palms of your hands.

“i do.” he replies, reassuringly. it’s earnest, and you smile. suguru bites the inside of his cheek, and closes his eyes. “it’s everything else that scares me.”

and there’s really nothing you can really do to help that fear, because you know it’s completely reasonable and realistic. tomorrow is never promised, especially with the hectic lives you live. you want to tell him that you have similar thoughts when he and satoru are out for days at a time, no return window strictly placed. that it has you pacing back and forth until their arrival, and even then you downplay your relief. but that’s a little embarrassing to say when he’s listening so intently, so you keep quiet.

you turn to him, shrugging with a smile you pray looks more optimistic than sorrowful.

“we can only ever hope for the best.”

a little hollow, less declarative than preferred, but it works the same. suguru nods in silent agreement.

suguru used to think that exceptional beasts like you and him could not fall in love — that it was the secret of ordinary people. for beings, who can alter the world, were special in indescribable ways. but he’s grown to be more open-minded, more accepting.

because what else could he do? you were so irresistible that it ceased the existence of his birth-given psychology. his mind, altered just for you.

“you know… you don’t have to prove yourself of anything.”

this time, it’s suguru who nudges you. he leans in, and you feel his hair brush against your arm. it tickles, but you don’t flinch. your body naturally welcomes the proximity, tingles and goosebumps etching across your skin. you squint, waiting for him to elaborate. and he does, with one validating sentence that kinda erases the possibility of self-doubt. just for a bit.

“i think you’re strong.”

he’d move stars for you, talk to the moon if it meant you got to keep the shimmer in your pretty eyes. and he’d ask the sun to stay out longer so he could continue seeing your rosy cheeks.

he’d gladly live for infinity if he could be the reason you get flustered forever.

you’re very pretty like this.

his eyes are watchful, observant as you scoff bashfully, avoiding him. and you quietly respond, with that same soothing voice. he thinks it could be a lullaby.

“i think you’re strong too.”

suguru smiles, nodding and all-knowing. he pokes you playfully.

“i know.”

you’d complain, but his tone lacks any arrogance. just a statement, enough said. because he knows how you think, how you observe.

and while you don’t say it out loud, your eyes are telling him ‘thank you.’

how beautiful the act of reading an expression is. of knowing a person so easily it’s like clockwork, unraveling intricate details to form a conscious understanding.

he watches your eyes narrow, and awaits a question he knows is on the tip of your tongue. your face looks a certain way during contemplation.

“you like doing this stuff?” you ask, tilting your head. “being a sorcerer, i mean.”

as if the two of you had other options. you didn’t.

but there’s something comforting about answering known questions. speaking the obvious into existence, letting the information linger in the air.

“i like it.” suguru replies, smiling. “if you get rid of the bad stuff.”

his voice gets quieter at the end, but you save him the questioning glance and smile back.

you hum, nodding. “like what?”

and you can name a million bad things. every day is a reminder of them. the two of you have that in common. but thankfully, the world has been kind enough to not let you experience them. your optimism hadn’t been tainted.

and as you expressed to him — you try not to dwell over the ticking clock, only ever hoping for the best.

suguru’s hands are behind him, propping himself up as he gazes at sheer, distant clouds. the sky is a pretty mix of yellow, orange, and red. evening approaches.

“well, all that self-sacrificing stuff for the betterment of mankind — for starters.” he sighs, head leaning back. you wonder if you imagine the way the slight slivers of sun sparkle against his skin, and how angelic his aura seems in that very moment.

you scoot a little closer, gaze matching his as you look upwards.

“we’re helping so many people, though.” you reply, glancing at him for a second. his eyes are closed, like a cat basking in the warmth of the light. you want to kiss his cheek.

“we are.”

“i think it’s cool.”

“it is cool.” he affirms, nodding. one eye opens, and he shamelessly stares as you obliviously observe the world. suguru is suddenly grateful that this view is currently only reserved for him, as he’s sure anyone would fall in love with you in this exact moment. yet, at the least, he wants you to see yourself in his neutral vision.

but butterflies cannot see their own beautiful wings, so he’ll gladly worship you quietly.

he looks at your hand on the grass, right beside his. it’s contemplation that’s been built up for months, thoughts of you invading all his senses. suguru figures that if he had a flower for every time he’s thought of you, he could walk through a garden forever. he inches his fingers closer.

and pauses when they’re less than a centimeter away, pulling back as you break the silence.

“i mean, i’d die for you guys too.”

suguru tenses, and you grow nervously quiet from the sight of his surprised expression, feeling suddenly embarrassed. an awkward laugh leaves your lips in an attempt to ease the gloom of your words, and you mindlessly wave your hand. “if it came down to it, y’know.”

you would in a heartbeat. you’d do it a thousand times over if you could, but you don’t tell him that. that proclamation is reserved for only you.

and as suguru looks over at you, stares, he doesn’t think he’ll ever despise an idea more than he does now. it’s blazing, the thought horrendous.

“don’t say stuff like that.” he demands, shaking his head brazenly. you can feel his eyes still on you, and he’s lost his smile. “don’t ever.”

all the defense, the stoicism, stemming from the thought that — yes. he 100% believed you would die for anyone. and that terrified him more than anything.

suguru isn’t sure how to communicate his thoughts in a softer way. he doesn’t mean for his demeanor to grow so cold again, but it bothers him - makes him sick - that you can say things like that so easily.

“i didn’t — i’m sorry.” you stutter, eyes wide. you swallow thickly, “sorry.”

and again, it’s hard to be upset with you.

but this, he can be against. he needs to be.

“you can’t think like that.” suguru speaks, softer this time. it’s pleading, as if he’s begging for a bit of mercy. and he is. “please.”

he wants to tell you that it’s okay to be selfish, to prioritize yourself first. but it would seem a bit hypocritical coming from him, because he knows he’d throw everything away in a whim if it meant keeping you safe.

love blinds him, he supposes.

“okay.” you nod, eyes on the floor. “i won’t.”

you’re considerate enough to lie, despite knowing full well that your words don’t align with your mind whatsoever. and you think suguru knows that.

he’s staring. you can feel it, eyes as intense as a midnight sky. you feel a little afraid to look up and meet them.

but it’s only instinct when he speaks your name softly, a coaxing whisper among suffocating tension.

you think he looks ethereal when being clouded with concern. godly, towering upon you. the magnitude of his gaze truly shows with the lack of distance. you register the feeling of his hand on yours before anything else, the touch searing from pure shock. a large palm covers your skin.

“… i’m sorry. i just care about you a lot.”

worry is care. it’s one of the greatest devotions — the act of panic for another person.

suguru thinks that romance may actually be the most horrific thing in life. that it’s not curses, but love. it’s the deepest weakness.

“you kill me when you get injured — when you speak like that.” he mutters, and the two of you don’t say a thing as his hand inches higher.

it feels a little harder to breathe.

“can’t promise i’ll stop.” you reply, a pitying smile finding it’s way on your face as you watch him close his eyes briefly.

“i know.”

suguru feels a little like a broken record player, doomed to repeat the same phrases like it’s clockwork.

it’s futile, you’re mutually aware.

he can’t control you, he’s unable to dictate what decisions you make — no matter how stupid, or how horrid they are to him. but he can’t bring himself to stop trying. maybe, if you’re reminded your value, you’ll eventually think the same.

but, honestly, the way you’re looking at him right now could make him believe anything.

“did you find out who’s joining you tomorrow on your mission?”

the corner of your mouth quirks upwards, and he knows your answer before you say it out loud. he grins.

your other hand places itself on top of his, and you smile back. heart giddy, but you try your best to keep your composure.

“i pulled a few strings.”

•••

december, 2015.

you wonder if growing up not only changes your body, but your soul.

because it takes a long time to realize how truly miserable you are, and even longer to see that it doesn’t have to be that way.

it’d be kinda hard to feel your unhappiness now, regardless.

“i prefer if you keep them outside, megs.” you wince, eyeing the dirt-covered paw prints on the hardwood floor.

the two perpetrators stand on either side of their summoner.

flushed and clearly embarrassed, megumi curtly nods. his hair moves the slightest with the movement, and he turns his head away from you, kicking his foot back and forth. “sorry, i wasn’t thinking.”

the dogs leave your eyesight quickly after. you snort, playfully rolling your eyes at him, walking over to ruffle the dark spikes on his head.

“it’s okay, don’t worry about it.” you smile, silently pleased when he doesn’t move away from the ministration. he’s always been more lenient with you, a fact you hold high over a certain white-haired sorcerer. “plus, i’ll just make satoru clean it up.”

if you had blinked, you might had missed the way megumi’s mouth quirks up, satisfaction clear as day. it makes you giggle, up until you finally inspect him closer. your eyes linger on the dirt covering the side of his white shirt, and you softly sigh, pursing your lips.

“how was the curse?” you ask, nudging him a little where the stains are most prominent. “roughed you up a bit, huh?”

megumi’s introduction to jujustu wasn’t entirely seamless, but he was definitely a natural. an anomaly, like satoru. born with talent.

you watch as his face turns sour, and his eyes suddenly narrow, the stoic expression more familiar. he avoids your gaze and looks at the door expectantly, mumbling something under his breath.

“what?” you reply, brows furrowing as you lean a little closer in hopes he’ll repeat himself. megumi’s mouth opens again, and he’s about to, but an obnoxious ‘i’m backkkk!’ interrupts him.

you share an unimpressed look with the younger boy.

satoru strides inside, whistling with a grin. you’ve spent too much time with him, years ticking off your lifespan from both the annoyance and contentment that he simultaneously brings into the world. he and megumi had left early in the morning, and it was around midday now — too long with him, as you can clearly pinpoint on latter’s face.

satoru’s hands are in his pockets, and he shuts the door with his shoulder, leaning back against it.

“missed us?” he smiles, and he walks over to throw an arm around megumi, which is immediately thrown off. satoru glares momentarily, but quickly looks back up at you, clearing his throat. “missed me?”

you stare, sighing softly before gently tugging megumi towards you.

“i missed megumi.” you correct, crossing your arms. your head motions to him, “and why does it look like he got pushed on the floor? i thought you said-“

“it was a grade three!” satoru immediately exclaims, and points to the boy beside you in accusation. “he told me not to get involved.”

despite his adult frame, satoru never really outgrew his childishness, still quick to blame anyone other than himself. his defensiveness was mildly irritating, but you've come to grow used to it. your head shakes disapprovingly, and you huff. “he’s thirteen, you idiot.”

satoru’s smile turns a little mischievous as megumi looks at you quizzically, a frown on his face. “so?”

you rub your head in annoyance, ignoring satoru’s ‘oooo,’ and gently flick megumi on the forehead. “you’re not an official student yet. dealing with curses by yourself can wait. for now, you fight with satoru.”

satoru dramatically sighs, and much to your dismay, approaches you. his arm infamously wraps itself around your frame, body leaning towards you, and it feels like the weight of an elephant, crushing you as you stumble. he doesn’t let up. “you worry too much. and he exorcised it! maybe with a little less ease than expected, but-“

he grunts when a hand collides with his side, and you’re too busy pushing him off to see the way he sticks his tongue out at megumi.

maybe your concerns were a little irrational, but your heart was in the right place. megumi was still young, still enrolled in a normal middle school — albeit, close to his last year — and you had originally planned to keep him completely innocent for just a while longer. no world of killing, curses, and whatnot. but satoru had pushed him into it within the first few months of his complicated adoption, and you secretly knew that there was nothing you could do to completely shield that side of the ugly world for him.

so, you suppose the least you could do was teach him how to protect himself. in case you or satoru couldn’t.

“well,” you sigh, defeatedly. there’s a lopsided smile on your face, and you expectantly look to megumi. “how was it, then?”

there’s a boyish smile, a little shy, that appears on his face. “cool.”

“see!” satoru grins, arms raising in victory. “he loved it, and he should probably do it more often-“

“fine, fine.”

it’s always been pretty futile to argue with satoru. not only is he stubborn, but painstakingly arrogant. he tends to think his ideas are always the best, simply because they’re made in his very head. and you can’t discredit them, because normally, they’re alright. but it can be frustrating. he’s also really hard to deny.

it’s only natural to give in. just so you can avoid drawing it out.

“awesome! i think he’s ready for a special grade!” satoru claps his hands, and you deadpan, rolling your eyes.

“don’t kill my kid.” you mutter, shaking your head as you turn, ignoring the way satoru’s smile settles into something a little more genuine. heartfelt, maybe.

truth be told, you’d trust satoru with everything and more. you worry and fret, but at the end of the day, he’ll still be there. he’s been stuck to you like glue for years now, and it didn’t help that you practically live under the same roof. different rooms, but realistically having no actual space. it’s nice, and you really do hold him in your heart deeply. at an arm’s length.

you end up being stuck with cooking dinner yet again — satoru winning because otherwise he’d ’poison the kids’ (which, you think is stupid because he could easily just follow a recipe. also, he’s used that excuse before.) — and it’s like clockwork, a routine, when you find yourself sat across from him on the couch afterwards, tsumiki and megumi long gone in their respective rooms.

you’ve found that gojo satoru acts a bit differently when it’s just the two of you. less irritable, and easier to talk to; you’ve noticed this since you met him. his voice gets quieter, the blindfold comes off, his hair falls, and you’re presented with a more raw version. and maybe the kids get a different version too, but you find that hard to believe when megumi’s distaste is so palpably strong.

“movie?” satoru asks, peeking at you through narrow eyes. his face is a little smushed by his palm as he leans against the armrest, and there’s a lazy smile on his face. he looks kinda tired, weirdly enough. exhaustion is so foreign on his face that it looks almost fake. you wonder how much he slept last night, spotting hints of darkness beneath the pretty blue of his vision.

you think it’s strange that you don’t get sick of his presence, even after all this time. that’s it’s forever missed more than loathed. you’re always in such close proximity, practically doing everything together, and yet you find that crave him every second he’s not beside you. pitifully, it might just be the attachment issues you’ve subconsciously formed, and have unfortunately plagued satoru with. but that reason just seems a little too sad for you to fully admit. everything realistic is somehow bitter. you softly sigh, momentarily closing your eyes.

you’d love to stay, just to hear his idiotic rambles and comments. they always brought more substance than the film itself. and he’s been gone all day. you rub your forehead, feeling a small inkling of guilt.

“i have a mission later.” you reply, apologetically, and smile sincerely. “but when i come back, yes.”

an active report coming from a town over — information on paper only describing the energy as ‘ominous.’

“oh,” satoru’s eyes widen, and though you’re unable to read the exact emotion on his face, he seems a little alarmed. nearly wincing. he’s kinda upset that you didn’t tell him sooner, that being visibly clear — but then again, did you really have an obligation to? he didn’t really tell you whenever he had missions. but that was because he’d return in a few quick hours every time. satoru didn’t like being gone for too long either. he never dragged out his departures; he hated to leave you by yourself, even if the kids were with you. it feels a little cruel. you watch his eyes dart towards the windows, and he shifts, facing you. the movement is a little awkward, and he pauses before his speaks, hesitant with his words. “want me to go with you? it’s kind of late.”

it’s sweet that he asks.

“satoru,” you chuckle, tilting your head. “it’s a couple of second grades. i’ll be fine.”

a little white lie, but you craved some action. satoru always got stuck with the interesting missions, and even then they posed no such threat to him. all of your assignments were simple, too easy to be considered enjoyable. if this was going to be the route you were taking in life, — exorcising curses — then you could at least make it somewhat fun.

satoru can tell something’s off. you’re too dismissive, and you won’t look at him directly. but he feels as though it’s not his place to scold you, and he trusts you dearly, so he ignores his gut.

“alright.” he shrugs, his arms moving behind his head as they nonchalantly cross, contrasting the way he feels a little unusual. “call me if you need anything.”

•••

december brings cold winter air, and you blow into your palms, attempting to warm the skin that’s begun to grow a little numb.

more people should go on nightly walks, you think. maybe then it’d be more calming. every street you’ve turned to is nearly empty, the only comfort being provided by dim overhead lights. but you suppose you’ve gone through more fearsome events, so this shouldn’t really be that big of a deal.

it’s a little frustrating to be walking around so aimlessly. the report gave no specific location, just the brief mention of a couple of previous sightings. by now, they’d more-than-likely dispersed to other areas.

you’re slightly tempted to call satoru for some help, as you’ve never been the best at detecting curses at a long-range, but you refrain.

it was late, and you know he’d probably never let you live it down.

satoru would never say ‘no’ to you. but there comes a price with that reliability and expectancy. small instances, like when you caught a cold, and had asked him to order for you at a coffee shop because your voice had been to sore to do so. he complied, but not without a relentless amount of teasing, even going to far as to lie to the barista, saying ‘sorry, she’s just really shy.’ he lived for your embarrassment, and it was generally harmless, so you couldn't reprimand him for it.

but sometimes every time, he’d have his own small apology. like how right after you had returned home, there was soup coincidentally ordered on your front porch.

satoru had walked inside without looking at you.

he can be tolerable. rarely.

you're nearly persuaded to go back home, midnight beginning to take a toll on your tired eyes. as far as you were aware, the curses hadn't caused harmful havoc. but it'd be pretty humiliating to head back without a small victory, and even then you'd probably stay up feeling guilty.

unintelligible whispers break you out of your thoughts, and you blink, eyes scanning the area.

goosebumps arise, and your head turns.

finally.

you nearly jump when you see it, though keep your composure, standing straighter.

it’s hardly detectable, as it stands. fairly large too. it might actually be a second grade.

you huff, brows furrowing as you inspect the curse. this was the cause of the ‘ominous’ energy? you feel it, but it’s looks don’t work well with it’s written description. maybe you’d be heading home sooner than you expected.

your hand reaches behind you to grab your weapon, and you move forward, testing to see how fast it’s reflexes are.

it doesn’t move.

you pause, rolling your eyes briefly.

“at least put up a fight, dude.” you mumble, nearly sighing as it continues to plainly watch you. you walk a little closer, up until you’re only a few feet away, and hum. “you’re not the brightest…”

you insert your weapon back into it’s sheath, and stare. it’s been a while since you’ve had the chance to see a curse so closely. they’re all usually extremely reactive, not sparing you a second before attacking. violence is their prime instinct; the main thought in their heads.

when you reach your hand to poke it, and it still doesn’t budge, you know something is wrong.

oh.

your entire body stills, and you’re certain that you feel your stomach drop to the floor.

something felt familiar.

confirming your terrible suspicions, the curse disappears in front of your very eyes. not exorcised. you’re staring at the empty space that it once occupied, too bothered by the fact that your heartbeat has picked up ten times faster.

you almost reach for your phone, but stop, feeling as though it wouldn't be the wisest decision.

this suddenly all feels a little too calculated. you don’t even attempt to grab your weapon again.

shock numbs your bones. it bleeds through and renders you useless.

you hear your name before you see him, and you figure it feels the same as the nearly-fatal slash toji had given you almost a decade ago. so painful that it makes your heart stop. it’s spoken with such intimate fondness — too much for your poor heart to comprehend.

his ubiquity is so daunting that you’re sure all time ceases to exist.

you don’t want to turn around. you want to run, flee before you know it’s too late. before you hear him speak, and the world comes crashing down all over again. you’ve tried so hard to piece it back together. every tiny detail - you’re not sure if you’d be able to start over. why now? when you’ve finally been better. when you finally believed that normality was even possible to achieve.

but you’ve always naturally given into him, and that habit stays strong even after all these years. you think he knows that too.

it’s with upmost hesitance that you turn around.

you’re not sure what to do.

he’s a sight for sore eyes. healing, beautifully transparent. a dear smile, inviting you closer. or more like a predator awaiting it’s prey. your body is giving you every negative cue, yet your legs stay in place, submissive to his presence that’s been so horrendously missed.

he a little looks older. or maybe that’s just the unfamiliar sight of all his hair down.

“hi.”

a part of you thinks that if you ignore him for long enough, he might disappear. leave you alone, as he’s chosen to do before. he’s lost the right to be welcomed.

fury is really the only emotion you could accurately pinpoint. you hate how soft he speaks. you hate it more than anything.

if you could stomach it, you’d ask him to close his eyes and turn the other direction. you’ve always been weak when he looks at you so intently, as if studying you to the finest detail. but you refuse to be the one to look away first - you selfishly crave his attention more than you value your own self-respect.

and as suguru looks at you, he thinks you’ve made it impossibly more difficult to do anything but beg for undeserving forgiveness. he’s staring at reflective streams, seeing as they slowly trail down your face. it must feel nice to be falling tears, symbolic of raindrops returning to the ocean. he’d like to sit in front of the ocean again. with you, being careless teenagers just for a little longer. but the ocean brings back bitter memories and the thoughts of a certain brunette child, so he refrains from thinking further.

“… don’t cry.”

it’s not a command of any sort, but instead a quiet plea. you’re too pretty for tears. too pretty for pain, too pretty for this unfair life he’s plagued you with.

he watches your eyes visibly widen, and your hand raises quickly, using your sleeve to wipe remnants of your intense emotions. it stains your skin a bit red from how roughly you move, lashes dismally coated with the aftermath.

“i’m not—“ and you huff, your throat feeling tight. your head bows by instinct, and you shake it firmly. you press your palms to your eyes for a few seconds, pushing harshly, as if the pressure could ease some of the shock, or ground you in any way. “i’m not fucking crying.”

cautiously, suguru nods. he’ll play into you, listen to everything you say even if it’s not entirely truthful. anything to make his appearance less daunting and harmful. he waits for you to speak, knowing the sound of his voice may not be as pleasant as he had hoped. he’s not sure what he was expecting.

battered already, in so much internal sorrow you might collapse, you breathe as deeply as you are able to. it shakes, and you opt to biting your lip instead.

harrowing disbelief is tainting your skin and bones, and it feels hopeless to even try understanding why he’s here. waltzing right back into your life, bewitchingly present. words linger, staying on the tip of your tongue as you internally battle yourself to release them. release you.

the air smells like rain. and you think — all this anger, it was once was love.

“i hate you.”

and there’s a frown on your lips, trembling as you try to muster up all of the loathe, resentment, and frustration into those three words.

it fails. because the admission is not of truth — if anything, it’s guilt. for the sole reason that you know your feelings stand the exact opposite.

you hate suguru for leaving you. not him as a person; him as a thought. a thought that consistently runs rampant through your mind, adding fuel to a prevalent fire that refuses to be extinguished. and you imagine that he likes that he still has that effect on you, because the hauntingly serene smile he holds doesn’t even falter, not for a second.

you’re forced to stare at him with that expression, and it feels wickedly taunting. not as comforting as it had before.

“that’s alright.”

it’s all he puts out into the air, and that gentle tone he holds kinda makes you want to hit him. he’s not like satoru — you’re sure he’d let you. but suguru can sense your agonizing heartbreak. he’d sense everything about you with his eyes closed. and he feels guilty for making you reopen old wounds, but he’s unaware that they’ve never been given a chance to properly heal.

geto suguru sees a little bit of you in everything lovely. the sun shining in the morning, the smiles on two pretty little girl’s faces, the moon casting a dim halo over the world at night.

you’ve only become a greater treasure. one to be cherished, to be adored. he’s missed you in his sight more than anything. you’re still a angel on earth, incredulously beautiful. even with tears, even with that despaired look on your face. he’s fighting every urge in his body to not step closer and mend your broken self.

he’d like to run his fingers over your soul and pour his love into each crack he finds.

“give me a few minutes. that’s all i need.”

he’d prefer an eternity. but he thinks that he’s asked for something reasonable.

it’s expected when you scoff, glaring daggers with blurry vision. but it doesn’t make it any less painful.

suguru can take it. he deserves it.

“please.”

the distaste on your face refuses to falter.

you crave to love without it having consequences.

since when had caring become so much of a burden? it’s evil, honestly. maybe stone-cold was the way to go. nanami might be on to something.

“stop this, suguru.” you whisper, hand sliding down your face in frustration as you let out a bitter sigh that lacks any amusement. “leave me alone.”

he savors the way his name sounds on your tongue, the drawn-our syllables holding the same familiar care of nearly a decade ago. it feels longer, too much time spent away from you. it lightens his aura, makes his senses heightened in almost a feral way. you speak of him like fate.

old habits refuse to die, and he stays where he is, the same face of persuasion used as he outwardly refuses your answer.

“kill me, then.” he shrugs, and he thinks he might actually die from the way your frown falters into shock once again. his smile twitches, nearly threatening to downcast.

it should be what you do.

suguru was a dead man. that fact hadn’t slipped your mind. you remember when satoru saw him, in the flesh, after the sentence. he couldn’t bring himself to kill him then, and you could briefly recall the look on his face when you softly told him you could eventually do it if he wasn’t able to. that solemn twinge, knowing something you wouldn’t admit out loud.

because satoru knew, better than anyone around, that if you went through with it, it would break you past the point of repair.

suguru, seemingly satisfied with your stillness, steps a bit closer.

it kinda feels like doom. you think the world may stop for a moment, and that all the bad things in life will come and finish you off. that death will take your hand, guiding you, kinder than anything that’s ever really touched it. because what it’s held before has cursed it.

when his hands reach up, you expect a knife in the throat — any consequence for the stupidity of your compliance. but the blades are soft, and they raise to hold your face. gently, as if earning the trust of a stray kitten. because they’re not blades, they’re his hands. he feels you shaking against them. and it’s odd that all tranquility really needs is a certain sight; reassurance in the form of a graceful being who has been absent for too long. you don’t move. you’re unable to. instead, you stare, taking in a lost future. hair you used to brush yourself, eyes that would watch you with such visible adoration. they still do, and that realization alone has your head hurting.

you feel his thumb wipe below your eye, and it feels cold over your heated skin. suguru sighs, his eyebrows furrowing ever-so-slightly.

“you’re very beautiful.”

it’s spoken almost hopelessly, as if the admission physically hurts for him to say. in a way, it does. he’s let go of one of the last devotions to you that he’s kept bottled inside of him, because he knows this might be the last time he sees you. he has to let everything go. you need to know what he thinks of you, how important you are. how he’s submitted his soul to the disaster of loving you since you were teenagers.

by the way his eyes narrow, and his pupils grow just a tiny bit bigger, your eyes widen, and you’re pushing him away instantly.

you know what comes next. you’re able to predict it before it’s able to horrifically conjure itself out loud.

“no, suguru.”

he follows after you, a firm yet gentle hold on your forearms stopping you from completely leaving. you’re already shaking your head, biting your lip as it threatens to quiver. he’s trapping you, and he knows he’s already won.

“let me.” he coos, rubbing the skin of your trembling limbs. and you try to convince yourself that you shouldn’t sympathize, or fall for that sweet, missed voice of his. how he’s just a stranger you unfortunately know everything about. to ignore gentle aura you’ve missed so much that you felt as though you’ve never been able to get a grip on the pain in your chest. “let me say it.”

you’re not built for this, not capable enough to take another harrowing blow.

“leave — fucking, leave.” you seethe, frantically attempting to pull your arms back, though his hold has gotten stronger, and the fight that you have left in you is quickly diminishing by the second. there’s a moment — the tiniest sliver of time — where you stumble, and you’re being pushed closer to him before you can blink.

“you don’t want me to.” suguru shakes his head, eyeing you carefully as you stop your movements. it’s declarative.

you’d like to slap him. knock some common sense into his head because, obviously. you never wanted him to. not when you were sixteen, not now, not ever.

it’s just defense. because you cruelly know that letting him in will just make everything worse. walls were needed for protection, even if the doors are halfway open.

his hands find themselves cradling your face once more, and he’s pulling you, a small gap being the only distance left between a terrible decision. you’re subconsciously following, body keen on obeying his every move. his gaze feels a little intrusive, looking so intently you have the urge to turn your head and close your eyes. your breath is shaky, and you feel a little light-headed.

you wonder if anyone else in the world has ever loved someone this terribly.

hastily, your hands place themselves on his chest with an attempt to push him away, but they stay pliant. you look at him, incredulously.

“what is wrong with you?”

it’s clear when his expression darkens a little, and he dejectedly looks to the side. you catch his eyes widening a bit, the harshness of your tone foreign, because you’ve only ever spoken to him with such tender care. you’re spewing out words with cracks in your voice, nearly whispering because you’re afraid that if you speak any louder, it’ll truly start a storm.

“you… you kill people, leave me — leave everyone — and then…” your eyes close, and you feel the liquid trailing down your cheeks again before you’re able to stop it. you can’t finish your sentence, too busy holding your breath to calm a threatening sob.

it feels like you’re sixteen again, and everything is crumbling.

his arms move slowly as they wrap themselves around you, and you feel even more inclined to cry when he presses your head against his chest. like he’s done dozens of times before. he sucks, the world sucks. this comfort is long overdue, and you still can’t find it in yourself to complain, simply succumbing to the pressure of his presence. you’d like to hug your younger self. because she needed this, even if it can’t really count as closure. even if you currently felt your knees buckling from beneath you.

“i wish i could take away the pain, pretty girl.”

suguru won’t give you false apologies. he only feels guilt for causing you harm. he dislikes how pain looks on your face, and he wants to tell you that he’s unable to sleep at night without you, that every day is a challenge. that truthfully, the ache is mutual. but he has something to accomplish, and you stand on opposing sides.

the two of you are stubborn people.

“take it,” you tremble, and your arms are already around him, despite the screams in your mind. he feels safe. he feels like everything and more. “please, please, take it.”

the pleading in your voice makes suguru feel horribly ill, and he tightens his grip on you, not really knowing what else to do.

it’s worse when you’re the perpetrator. the criminal, the evil. he wonders what your life might have looked like without him in it — how happy you could have been. should’ve been.

but there’s been bad things — events that he’s sure might had ended horrifically differently without his existence.

he wonders how your scar looks, now.

suguru’s fingers are firm as they reach below your chin, and he forces your eyes to meet once more. they’re red and glossy, but still undeniably captivating. he’d like to look at them forever.

“i would, if it were that easy. i promise you.”

you believe him. it could be from the genuine strain in his voice, or your muddled brain that’s clawing to escape your own head. what good is a healthy mind?

he’s saying your name again, and it’s quieter this time. more intimate. you don’t cower, you stay, even huddling the tiniest bit closer. you’ve given up on composure, you’ll let him selfishly have you. besides, it feels nice when he’s treating you so delicately. hands ghosting over your cheeks, eyes that admire your desperate, sad ones. you don’t stop him this time, numbly prepared for the aftermath.

he pauses, trailing his thumb over your jaw, and swallowing thickly. he’s never quite looked normal. always too perfect in comparison to everything else. he smiles, and you see a hint of something that you can’t really classify as full joy.

“i love you.”

the world doesn’t end.

you’re still looking at him, thinking that it will for a moment. instead, you see bashful pink.

‘i love you’ is such a tricky sentence. it’s powerful, meaningful, and could also be a lie. the power of speech is that there really are no limits, and you suppose that’s what makes bad people. sometimes.

he toys with the collar of your shirt, briefly, and lets out a breath of amusement through his nose. suguru feels lighter. and simultaneously horrible. he tilts his head, barely, his voice quiet.

“will you let me kiss you? even if you hate me?”

there’s a little teasing in that sentence, and he nudges his nose across the side of your face affectionately. you’re unaware of how hard his heart beats against his chest as soon as he asks.

you’re sixteen once more, and you’re silently nodding before you’re able to think further.

you’re imagining fairytales you can’t believe in.

it’s hard to determine how long you’ve thought about it. his lips on yours. your hands are in his hair and on his face nearly immediately. you’d trade a lot of things to be this close for longer — you wish to be combined. and he’s soft. he’s so soft you dread taking your hands off of him. if heaven was a place on earth, it’d be this.

pitiful.

he tastes sweet, like a forgotten dream. butterflies suffocate your insides as you stand, and your knees feel a little weaker. suguru is a bit impatient with his movements, hands trailing down your sides to squeeze and caress. his touch feels hot and is hastily done, but gentle nonetheless. you feel his lips curl up against yours, and your stomach flips.

you rather not pull away. pulling away brings back reality, and fantasy is really all you want. if you kiss him a bit harder, and close your eyes a little longer, you’re able to stay.

he pulls back first.

you’re breathing heavy, eyes wide as they bore into his. he might be the most precious thing in your life, and you’re not sure if you’re able to let him go. you’re afraid that you’ll love him forever, and that you’ll never be in the same place again. this feels cruelly temporary, and you know it is. by the way his expression settles, and the way he repeats those three words so quietly, it’s meant for only you to hear. a fact.

“i love you.”

you swallow thickly, in a haze that’s caused just by his very being. a drug-like addiction, and you feel so content it’s like you’re home.

suguru knows you won’t say it back. and in all honesty, he prefers it that way. it’s what’s best. what matters most is that he knows you mean to. he’s able to read that lovestruck wonder on your face so easily it makes him warm. it was both a relief and horror to be known so perfectly. you, who still wears your heart on your sleeve. he’s forever grateful that you’ve always been so giving, so selfless when it comes to him. he feels as though he abuses your sweet compassion.

you tug on his sleeve.

“we can work something out.” you whisper against him, and suguru knows he’s gone too far. he’s tensing, and his eyes are anxious, a small shake of his head contrasting your nods. “i’m yours. i’m yours before anything else.”

heart, mind, body, soul. you’re bonded for life, and you’ve known that since you were young.

“oh, no, baby.” suguru hurriedly answers, and the desperation in your voice, the way you clutch on to him a little tighter, has his head reeling. he’s panicking. “you’re better where you are, sweet girl.”

you know his mind is made up, that it’s fruitless to try, but you’re so blinded by desires that you don’t even care that you’re begging him. he’s mean, doing this to you. there is no ultimatum or other decision - this is it. you’re just destined to be separate, and that hurts to realize, so you’re glad he’s cushioning the blow. just enough for you to keep standing.

suguru is complicated. he hates that he is, he hates what his life has brought him (the only exception being the beauty of the people in his past; you included), but he’s certain that you’re safer as it is. golden and pure. with satoru, with shoko. and you’re strong. you’re so strong he can’t put it into words.

maybe he had some reasonable motives — riko’s death, yours and satoru’s near deaths, haibara’s death — but they’ve shaped him. shaped you, more, as it seems. you continue your life, even after it’s been tainted red, and blackened with misery. satoru, the same. you can take a bit more. you’ve gone through the worst of it. at least — it’s what he selfishly tells himself.

it was stupid to come see you. kiss you, at that. but he can’t bring himself to regret even slightly. if he’s considered evil, barbaric, he’ll gladly take the titles if it meant spending more moments with you. it’s cruel, not malicious.

you’re still his person. but he can’t have you fully — at least, not in this lifetime.

suguru isn’t really sure he could pass on the torch so easily. to give you up completely — the most ultimate sacrifice. where there would be a possibility of his replacement, and the loss of his heart. he can’t trust anyone with loving you; no one can really love you like he does. he’ll take pride in that.

“you’re going to live a long, happy life.” suguru quietly assures, nudging his nose against yours. your eyes are tightly shut, overall avoidant. this might be a nightmare, if you believe hard enough. “find someone who loves you, and you easily will, do everything-“

“i don’t want anyone else.” you interrupt, eyes narrowing as they open, like the idea is something of the unthinkable. “you’d be stupid to think i do.”

this might be worse than unrequited love, you think. every feeling is mutual, besides the belief that you should be together. he’s the bane of your existence. and that kills.

suguru is reasonable. you understand his refusals, why the two of you can’t be — how immaturely you’re thinking about this. you can’t leave your life behind for him, it’d be asking for your own death sentence and the loss of everything left that’s good in your life.

you can’t create a cycle, as much as it pains for you to come to terms with.

“i can’t have you, pretty girl.” suguru sighs, trying to ignore the way his voice wavers the tiniest bit. he’s growing desperate in persuasion, but even he falls flat against the situation. “i want to, so bad, but it’s not right. we’re not right.”

your chest feels tight as you stare up at him.

you wonder, truly, if he’s aware of all the turmoil he’s caused; that he’s let happen, because he never even came back to offer a mere shoulder for support. he simply left you in the dust.

it hurts to hear, especially coming from lips that had been pressed so wonderfully against yours. you still can’t bring yourself to hate him.

you used to fear irrational ideas. that if you let someone in, take care of you, you wouldn’t really be yourself anymore. independency never worked well, and you’ve strung on a bit too hard to a knight in shining armour. a being like icarus, who’s flown too close to the sun. you were right, it seems.

you’ve lost, and it kills to realize.

bitterly, you remember hearing some time ago that ‘it gets easier.’ or better. it’s been repeated to you, multiple times. the reality is, you’re not too sure. what gets easier is maybe the coping. but even that is still evil and painful.

hopeless, you stand, and your voice feels hoarse.

“… suguru?”

how can you hate something so natural? when it feels as though those syllables are meant to be spoken in repetition. his name means excellence; to surpass all.

suguru looks at you, eyes previously occupied with gazing upwards to avoid an act of human emotion. they mirror yours, glossy and faintly red. no visible tears. he has the self-control you lack.

but you can be a little selfish.

“can you…” you take a deep breath, and lean a little forward, resting your head in the crook of his neck to escape a reaction. if he feels the liquid of your tears, he doesn’t comment on them. he’s awfully warm. you’d like to lay in bed with him under a summer sun again. you’re trying to force every part of him into your memory while he’s pressed to closely against you. how his hair tickles your neck, the security of his loving arms keeping you from physical harm, how pretty he looks up close.

it’s not greedy to ask for a final request, you think.

“can you stay with me, then? for a few more minutes?”

an innocent question, while he’s been nothing but cruel. despite everything, you’re still you.

it reminds him of his youth. when you and satoru would get into playful arguments, gaining a few steps on him, only for you to turn back and check that he was still there. or when you would return from missions, him being the first person you looked for every time, just to let him know you came back safely.

sometimes, you’d come back a bit battered up, and instead of confiding in shoko for help like any other person would, you trusted him with treating the wounds. all natural, because that meant you got to spend more time together. human bodies are fragile things. he realized the true extent of that after toji. you really can’t take anything for granted.

so it’s really no wonder why he fell in love with you. why he came to fully accept it. and his belief stands strong — anyone would. angels are irresistible, he finds. he would sometimes see wings.

suguru’s glad you can’t see his face. because maybe then, you’d catch the sight of a reflective shimmer trailing down his cheek.

the embodiment of your dreams, hopes, and desires holds you so gently, a little tighter now. he nods against you, but it feels disconnected, because he’s faded into darkness that has already consumed him. too far gone.

time is nothing for now.

and you wonder if it actually does get better, or if everyone is just lying to you.

•••

september, 2018.

“sensei?”

blinking slowly, you immediately straighten at the sight of three towering figures above your relaxed position.

there’s a panic that sets in at the recognition of how watery your eyes feel, and your head turns in an instant to cough awkwardly, avoiding their stares.

it’s around noon, judging by how pleasantly the sun shines through the window, and how awake your students look. yuji liked to sleep in sometimes.

“did i zone out for a bit?” you mindlessly chuckle, the words feeling a little strange on your tongue. you might have a migraine from how much your head is hurting. “i didn’t get too much sleep last night, sorry guys.”

your smile radiates a reassuring warmth, and the concern on their faces leaves by the time you look back at them. if jujustu didn’t work, maybe you could take up acting.

“we finished the warmups you instructed!” nobara beams, short hair flowing after her as she proudly stands. she glances at yuji, her eyes narrowing. “well, me and fushiguro did.”

yuji shoves her.

nobara has always reminded you of rough recovery rooms and gentle curing hands. it makes you a bit nauseous, the nostalgia of it all.

the sight of the whole trio sometimes felt like daggers digging into your heart, stabbing greedy wounds into open gashes before they have a chance to heal.

brighter days for them, a dull ache for you.

“you weren’t awake yet-“

“i told you to wake me up!”

“you did not!”

yuji and nobara bicker for a second, and you feel a little overwhelmed.

because since these two have set foot on campus, they had seemed oddly familiar. unbeknownst to them, but relentlessly distressing for you. you’re silent as you observe, the uncomfortable pit in your stomach staying clear as day. stubborn, because that’s only natural for you.

more than a decade has passed — nearly three years since your last encounter, almost a year after his death, and yet here you are. the hurt just as strong, because you’ve realized that the pain will never fully go away, and you suppose you’ll have to adapt to living with it forever.

but you’re grateful. though you couldn’t go back to the way things were, you have a chance at stopping the cycle. after all, you know little about what the future has in store for them.

you hope it’s kind. you want those grins to stay permanently, for their youth and innocence to linger for as long as possible. because you never had that luxury. the end of your purity was far too quick, adult emotions flooding your senses. you’d do anything to keep them from feeling like you.

plus, you’re allowed to grieve over the child you could’ve been.

“alright, alright,” you blink, interrupting them before their voices can get any louder. they immediately quiet down, turning to you expectantly. it freaks you out a little.

you were still relatively new to whole teaching thing, not used to being followed so attentively. it felt weird to give orders — to have them be listened to, really. satoru was more of a natural, his cheekiness benefitting him perfectly. even if the students found him undeniably strange.

“give me ten minutes and i’ll meet you outside.” you wave a hand, pointing to yuji. “and sorry kiddo, you’re doing some laps for getting up late.”

you fight a smile as you witness a pout form on his lips, nobara’s laugh drowning out his whining. you’d probably only make him run one, but it was always amusing to lie to his face. you adored yuji — he was a bundle of joy graciously given to the universe. it’s pure luck that he ended up with you.

you watch as nobara drags him out, your head resting on your palm, softly chuckling. they complimented each other well. like siblings, you think.

your head turns, finally facing eyes that hadn’t strayed away from you since you woke up from your daydream. it's like a sixth sense now. you know when he's looking at you, when he seems genuinely bothered. it took time to know him. he’s a hard shell to crack.

“you don’t get special privileges, megs.” you snort, motioning your head towards the door. “go join them, i just need some time to wake up.”

megumi looks unimpressed (and honestly, when does he not?), sighing softly before coming closer. the cushion beside you sinks as he sits, and you raise a brow questionably. his voice is blunt, quiet as it fills the room.

“you think too much.”

it surprises you a little, but you’ve come to learn that megumi is rarely predictable, and to always expect the unexpected.

“do i?” you muse, your smile visibly weakening as you softly laugh.

he was too aware of everything, perception like no other. he reminded of you of suguru sometimes, behavior so nonchalant in comparison to the rest of the world. they were both silent observers.

megumi nods, and you realize he’s rather close, only a few inches away from grazing your skin. touch was something megumi struggled with growing up, so you never pushed it on him; you hated making him uncomfortable, while satoru could care less. the giant didn’t understand boundaries. but sometimes, movie nights in his adolescence led to him latching on to you in his sleep. he had his moments.

it makes the action of his hand raising, pressing your head into his shoulder, much more meaningful.

“don’t think.”

megumi’s never been one for melodramatic situations. growing up, he’d used to complain when tsumiki would force him to watch disney movies with her, getting visibly annoyed when he’d spot her tears during more heartfelt scenes. you never brought up the fact that he’d let her rest her head on his shoulder (you secretly wonder if that’s why he’s doing that now), or would rub her back. megumi’s not kind, per say, but he knows how to secretly love (in his own, strange way. similar to satoru), and you think that’s more important than anything.

“that’d be cool.” you sigh, closing your eyes. your eyelids feel heavy on your face, and you try not to get too comfortable, remembering that you’d have to get up in a few minutes. “wish it were that simple.”

megumi hums, staring straight ahead.

your past is a secret to him, tightly kept in the confinements of your heart. and that's really the only hint he's ever needed to know that it still affects you. satoru, the same. he knew little about your lives before he came into the picture, only hearing bits and pieces when you and satoru would get a bit sleep-drunk and giggle about old memories. he's always tried his best to listen, soaking in any details he can. people are generally more honest and open when physically tired. it's why they confess things during late night conversations, and why the flow of words comes out more natural.

you were different from the idiot that had originally taken him in. megumi can scream from every rooftop that he hated gojo satoru (despite it being secretly untrue), but you? the mediator, who he looked up to more than anything? impossible, it’d be criminal.

maybe you disliked seeming hopeless in front of him, but he didn't mind that vulnerability. he wished you'd trust him with it more — that you knew he would never dream of judging you. he's not too well with words, or communicating, really, so he's also not too sure how to tell you. a double-edged sword.

"you're okay, though — right?"

his eyes glance downwards towards you, dark blue highlighting the inklings of concern. it's not awkward when he asks.

he has a heart, despite satoru's beliefs.

heart warmed, you grin, raising your head to look at him with crinkled narrowed eyes.

you find it funny how the world works. going in some strange, bittersweet chain of events because here you were, caring for the life of a dead man’s son while he had permanently tainted yours. and you're happy. not completely, but sun shines through. the blinds are halfway open.

something that had once seemed so dark has been becoming technicolor.

"yeah." you nod, sincerely, and pat his cheek gently, stifling a laugh when his face scrunches in silent disapproval. "thank you for asking. really."

his face gently pulls away from your touch, and you can tell he's slightly flustered, just a tad embarrassed at your small affection. you're grateful for him, unbelievably thankful for the bits of effort he's always put into caring about you (and tsumiki. and maybe the tiniest bit for satoru. tiny.). a true blessing.

gingerly, he stands up, hands in his pockets as he glances at you again, double-checking. you smile.

he only continues to walk towards the door when you give him a nod in reassurance.

you're left staring at your hands when he leaves, a soft sigh escaping your lips. some days are harder than others. it's the toss of a coin, no chances pre-determined. you simply wake up to the surprise every time.

admittedly, you miss the version of you that doesn’t really exist anymore. naive, but more open. fearless and valiant, only ever seeking improvement. you feel bitter that you took that time of your life for granted.

you’ve found that everything’s felt easier, though. something in the air is different.

“hey, did you leave the kids outside? it's hot out there and they're complaining like crazy-“

you hear footsteps come to a halt, and your head tilts up, finding satoru in it's vision. he stands in place by the door, eyes wide as he stares.

"hey," you nonchalantly wave, stretching to alleviate the soreness in your muscles. "i'll be out in a second."

you attempt to get up from your seat, but satoru ushers towards you, stopping you from successfully moving.

"woah, woah, woah — what’s got you so blue?” he asks, scanning over you briefly. there's a light-hearted smile on his face, and if you didn't know him well enough, you might have mistaken it for amusement. but it's down-casted slightly, and he's looking at you a little too intently.

you snort, rolling your eyes playfully, “i’m not blue.”

satoru blinks, unappreciative of the response that he can only justify was from being around him too often.

“fine — what’s wrong with you?” he corrects himself bluntly, crossing his arms. your eyes follow him as he takes a seat beside you, and you internally sigh, thinking about how you’ve left your three students to perish under the sun.

you wave a hand dismissively, "nothing.”

“aw, c’mon,” satoru drawls, and you have half a mind to complain when he sprawls himself over your lap, his eyewear pushed upwards and off his face as he looks up at you. the blue twinkles, even under the fluorescent lighting. “you’ve never been a good liar.”

“okay, now that’s a lie. a bad one.” you scoff, poking his nose. “i’m a talented actress. oscar worthy.”

he playfully winces, narrowing his eyes at you. “no one’s ever been honest with you before, huh?”

“who needs opinions?” you roll your eyes, nudging his head softly. “it’s all about self-love now.”

“yeah, yeah,” satoru whistles, peering up from one eye, the other closed as he visibly relaxes against you. “see how far that takes you.”

you gasp dramatically, “mean.”

the corner of his lips quirks up, and his familiar smirk returns.

banter was natural with satoru. it was hard to take anything seriously with him around.

he brings joy in mundaneness.

“you shouldn’t trust megumi, y’know.”

confused, you pause, looking at him questionably.

“why?” you ask, and you’re internally conflicted as you attempt to recall every recent memory in your head that’s a classified secret. or, something you’ve generally told megumi as of late. nothing comes to mind.

“dunno. he told me something was wrong with you when i walked past him right now.”

your eyes widen, and you groan, head falling back against the couch’s soft exterior.

traitor.

“so,” satoru continues, and his voice is softer, a little more serious. “really — what’s wrong?”

it’s always been pointless to beat around the bush with satoru. he’s impatient, immature, and wonderful. a bad mix that makes you wonder how it’s even possible that he’s generally likable.

“nothing.” you emphasize, rubbing your head in slight annoyance. “he’s making it up.”

you rather not have this conversation. not while the air is half-hearted, and everything has been steady. but he’s right there. and it might not hurt as much as you think it will.

satoru gawks, mouth open, before poking you harshly. “now you’re calling our son a liar? low blow.”

you huff, “he went lower by betraying me.”

a beat of silence.

“so he was right?” satoru blinks, and he’s sitting up hesitantly, awaiting your voice, or a movement. anything to confirm.

“will you leave me alone if i say no?”

“no? you just admitted he wasn’t lying.”

“oh. yeah.”

you’re smiling lightly, faintly awful because you’re not too sure how wise you’re being. maybe this was only the mature option.

“um… i was just thinking. about him.”

you hadn’t really spoken much about last december. there was no tension or anything — it was just a touchy subject for the both of you.

satoru had more right to be bothered.

you expect his expression to drop — for it to grow uncomfortably quiet, leaving you to voice a regretful apology. you’ve rarely seen satoru break. his joyous front is him in natural form. sorrow doesn’t look right on his face.

he’s only been at his worse around you. and that’s a fact that binds you for life, as dismissive as you two seem to act about it.

angels carry weights off your shoulders, and satoru smiles a little. albeit, visibly bittersweet, but a smile.

“we do that a lot, don’t we?”

he’s stupid, annoying, and infuriating when he looks at you like that. as if you two are similar, and he knows how to ice the bruises on your back.

(he does.)

geto suguru is an enigma. is, because even in death, he’s found a way to stay alive. he lives in memories; in thoughts that keep both of you awake at night.

“i guess i just …” you trail off, staring at the floor. you’d be okay with living the rest of your life by satoru’s side. he’s peace, and he knows you tenderly.

you exhale, a small bitter chuckle leaving your lips.

“i don’t know what to do with all the love i have for him.” you admit, arms laying flat as you shrug with a despaired smile that makes satoru feel a little hollow. your hands flow freely, motioning for a few moments before resting back in your lap. “i don’t know where to put it.”

you haven’t known in years. it’s bundled up, suffocating your insides and exhausting your soul. he’s too well tangled with it.

a lot was left unsaid.

answers you crave, questions that will forever follow.

“i’ll take it.”

satoru grins, and you have to bite back a smile from how infectious his expression is. it radiates sunshine.

you feel his warm hands cup over yours, and he gently rubs across your knuckles with his thumbs, soothing that isolating cold. “you can give it to all of us, actually. but more for me.”

he’s silly, and he’s everything and more.

you wonder if you would’ve made it through without him. he’s impacted your life so heavily, you can’t imagine a world void of his presence.

“you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” you mumble, smile ever-so-visible as you playfully nudge him. satoru nods feverishly.

“i’d adore it.” he’s beaming like the cheshire cat, and your expression falls flat as you await whatever idiotic words would flow out of his mouth next. he brings a finger to his chin and hums.

“you know what, though? maybe give some extra to megumi. but i’m not really sure any love could save that kid. not even a mother’s. he's creepy, i'm telling you-“

“satoru.”

he innocently smiles, eyes closed. “just a suggestion.”

you playfully roll your eyes.

it’s all romanticism until it truly hurts. love seems so small, so trivial, when you’re not being affected.

satoru hides his grief better than you ever could. he copes uniquely, and you suppose his way may even help you a little.

they should invent a healing that is linear, you think. so you can’t fall behind, and you can be all-smiles too.

but you’re close enough.

just the right amount, actually.

★ 【てこ】 「 アルベド＆甘雨 」 ☆ ⊳ albedo / ganyu (genshin impact) ✔ republished w/permission ⊳ ⊳ follow me on twitter

We will be reunited

—# 🍨 MAKING OUT WITH THEM IN THEIR BEDROOM

A/N; <33

#ALBEDO;

The type of guy to orginal ask if he could paint you in the setting for your bedroom but actually finds himself, staring at you for too long. Nearly seconds later your lips have several greetings, and only find you both on his bed later, with your hands exploring his chest and his hands exploring your lower body.

#CHILDE;

Would flirt with you, for a little until his lips find themselves on your necks, hearing faint whimpers and moans leave your throat while his hands explore your body. And the best part were the lingering kisses you shared with him.

#DILUC;

The type of guy to be patient, and will only wait until you make the first move. Though once you nod your head in agreement, he will take no time, kissing you all over, lips, necks, cheeks, everything underneath. He takes his time as well.

#KAEYA;

You guys would already be making out before you even enter his bedroom, that’s why you would already have your legs wrapped around his waist and everything while he kisses you deeply. He likes the warmth of your lips and everything, brings joy to his eyes and souls.

There’s just something very disgusting and sinister about the fact that Tel Aviv is 95-98% Jewish and less than than 2-5% Palestinians, yet when you open the snapchat map over there you will find snaps with Israelis listening to Arabic music in their cars or clubs or eating Arabic food in a fancy restaurant to be very common to see there, more so than snaps with non-Arabic music and non-Arabic food.

Meanwhile if you click on Gaza, which is only a 60km south of Tel aviv, on the snapchat map you will find snaps of the 99-100% Palestinian population (who are the actual owners of the food and the music the Israelis in Tel Aviv are enjoying) in an ambulance while injured, in a cemetery burying their loved ones or near the rubble of their destroyed houses from Israeli airstrikes.

This is beyond “we want your culture, but not you” this is “we want your culture and your land, but we want you dead” 

{Here’s a video showing the difference between the lives of Israelis and Palestinians, who are living just a few km a part, in the snapchat map}

#BFE2FD ┈ scaramouche (wanderer) x gn!reader ; genre/trope: an angsty christmas special! ; wc 3000+ ; warnings: just an unrequited love fic... mentions of happy people idk

[6:44pm] gingerbread lingers in the air, despite the fact that you had shoved your pathetic attempt of a house in the bin a while ago.

still, the scent remains amidst the twinkle of christmas ornaments and the rustle of golden tinsel.  like a mockery of fate, it hangs around from early night when you had given up waiting, to the current midnight when the flicker of christmas lights along the neighbourhood was beginning to fade.

it seemed that this christmas, you would have to spend it alone.

of course, it hadn't always been like that. your friends from distant regions had all tried their hand to invite you to various parties. most offers had been simple pleasantries since there was only a handful of those who didn’t know you reserved this special night for an equally special someone, and the others you had to let down gently.

"i'm so sorry!" you had replied. "i already have plans for the night."

some of your friends, like zhongli, had hummed thoughtfully. "i see. it is always nice to spend this festive season with your loved ones. it is a shame i couldn't spend it with you, however."

"there's always next year." you found yourself apologising again, though in your heart you knew the situation would only repeat. "and i'll see you at the new years party." 

“new years, hm? then i suppose i will have to settle for seeing you then. have a wonderful christmas, name.”

hu tao beams from his right. "we'll be seeing you there! have fun with your special someone!"

others, had been a little less understanding, their whines and protests dragging on into the day.

"can't we see each other even for a second? please, please?"

"klee, name has already told you they'll be busy." albedo had interjected, appearing at her side, attention only partially directed at the conversation. 

the child pouts, fists balled at her side. "that isn't fair! i wanted us to sing jingle bells, all three of us! and to decorate the christmas tree, and to see all the christmas lights! then, we were meant to stay up to meet santa and leave gifts for him!"

"i'll still be there." albedo points out.

"it's not the same."

you laugh. "i'm sorry klee, i'll make it up to you next time."

"you said that last time. you were meant to make it up to me today." klee sniffles. "are you a liar, name?"

"alright, klee, that's too far." albedo frowns. "you have to say sorry."

"it's okay! besides, i'm the one in the wrong." you crouch down to talk face-to-face, gently wiping away the stray tears fallen on her cheek. "how about we go fish blasting on new years, hm? we can go to every pond and lake in teyvat, we'll do it for however long you like."

"really? what about santa?"

“your big brother albedo will invite him!” pointedly ignoring albedo’s gaze, you keep selling your point. “we’ll have so much fun, you’ll see.”

albeit still a little upset, klee snorts up the last of her outburst and nods. 

“i pinky promise this time." you wrap your pinky around hers and gave it a tight squeeze.

"you pinky promised this time. don't break it okay?" she repeats in a small voice.

you nod, standing back up. turning to albedo, you also give him a soft smile. "sorry i can't make it either, to your christmas party."

"it was sucrose's idea, i think that apology should be for her."

"still, i would have wanted to spend christmas with you."

"why can't you?" his eyes startle you in all its clarity as he turns, question capturing you on the spot. his clipboard seems almost disregarded in his arms. 

"i have plans!" you blurt out. “i’m… busy.”

albedo looks at you and for a second, you’re sure he can see right through you. "a significant other?"

the chill from dragonspine is chased from your body, a prickling red flush hot in its pursuit. "no, no way, nothing like that!" after a pause, you awkwardly rush to finish the sentence. "not yet, anyway."

he smiles in return at your confession before leaning down to face klee. "come on, we shouldn't bother name anymore. they have things to do." and then to you, as klee scurries away excited at the prospect of another adventure, he wishes you luck.

“i’ll deal with the santa.” he turns, waving back slightly before ushering klee inside.

some friends already knew the man in your heart, and their invitations are gateways for jokes.

"coming to my christmas party, name?" yaemiko had suggested, before her hand flies up to her mouth. "oh wait! i forgot you have better things to do, and better people to see."

"what's this? you won't be coming?" ei perks up, eyes flickering above the book at her lap. "after all our preparations?"

yaemiko interrupts you before you can even defend yourself. "name here already has plans."

"with who?"

your face warms rapidly. "it's nothing."

"nothing? you're not coming to our party, for nothing?"

"stop it." you whine, burying your burning face in your hands. "you already know why i can't come, yaemiko."

"all the more reason why it's so very fun to poke at it."

"what? what is it? stop leaving me in the dark, you two."

"shall i do the honours?" yaemiko asks.

"ei, i made dinner plans with someone tonight. so, i can’t make it."

"oh?" the god replies. "and who is this person?"

you ignore the sly fox's chuckle, and press onwards to answer. "someone... special. someone i, someone i like."

yaemiko gasps dramatically before snickering. "blush any harder and you might come down with a fever, dearest name."

you cup your cheeks and scowl at her. "you're awful."

"and so is your love life. really, name, how long have you been pining for this man? and for this to be the first move you make is really something else."

"what she's trying to say," ei interrupts, aware of the murderous expression on your face. "is that we hope you have a good time with your special someone. though we will miss you, we hope for the best, really."

and some friends had known since the very beginning.

"eager?" tighanri asks, the very first words to leave his mouth as you enter his abode. when you don't reply, he turns to you. "it is today, right?"

"right." you groan into your hands. "should i postpone it after all? leave it to another day? what if i'm not ready after all, what if he doesn't even feel the same way as me and i look like a complete fool after everything i've done to prepare?"

"name, he would be completely stupid if he doesn't appreciate you. and you know if it doesn't end well, collei, cyno and i are joining everyone else to watch nilou perform tonight. no one will say anything if you sneak in."

you look up at him and smile. "thanks, tighnari. i don't know how but you always say the right things at the right time."

'it's called impeccable timing, i just so happen to have it. speaking of, here's the icing you wanted, for the gingerbread houses."

you inhale in the scent of sugar. "that smells really good."

"i know." turning his back to you, he begins fussing around his area. "i've been told i could make a killer wife."

"yeah?" you poke a finger in the bowl. "who said that?"

"collei."

placing your finger on your tongue, you hum in appreciation. "she's not wrong this icing is delicious. you could sell this, honestly."

"are you offering?" he turns around with a smirk.

"i can pay with friendship?"

he laughs, shaking his head. "i don't need that."

you stick a different finger in the bowl and eat that too, closing your eyes at the taste.

"do that again and the bowl will be empty before it's night."

"i'm not eating that much."

"here."

your eyes widen, bowl completely forgotten as you look at the wrapped present in tighnari's hand, adorned with a bright red bow.

"this... this is..."

"my present to you." tighnari replies, a smile on his face. "merry christmas name, i hope tonight goes well."

all these holiday wishes, abundant in counting, yet there was still a hole in your heart from where a special someone had yet to say it. you find your mind blank aside from a single, daunting thought, the blanket you had hastily placed over your shoulders failing to keep the cold as the hours went on.

you replay the memory of your invitation to him over and over and over again, struggling to find any indication that he may just be late, may have just been caught in some last minute mission, that he would still be coming because he had said yes. you find that the invitation had been so causal, such a fly away suggestion, that he would have no choice but to assume it was an offering as friends, as comrades, rather than lovers. but that was alright, even if he came to your doorstep as a friend, because at least that meant he had come, because at least that meant you hadn't sat in your own home, more alone than any other day, for hours on end, waiting for the soft thud of his footsteps up to your door.

because at least that meant he hadn't stood you up.

you had definitely just been stood up.

the frosty breeze outside causes your nose and ears to tinge. you rub your arms as the cold settles in, but even the chill from the night wasn't enough to suffocate your thoughts. the crunch of snow, the whistle of the wind, the scuttering of cats as you near a little too close, all these things were not enough to erase the meaningless thoughts in your head.

it had all been so promising, the progression of your relationship, the final moment of courage that made you ask, the smile that he sent you, so full of adoration though now you can only wonder if it had all been your imagination. as the snow rains on, you wonder if you’ll forever associate the light sprinkling of white to this very moment, where the disappointment is enough to submerge you. 

well, tighnari had said you could always join him, if all went wrong.

"a christmas night alone for you, name?"

you look up, squinting at the rush of snow. a single figure stands in the distance, something about his posture so familiar to you. at last, you place a name to the face and you huff a cloud of steam into the air.

"scaramouche, no, the wanderer." you reply, his name dry on your tongue. "i wouldn't be mocking me if you were doing the same."

he shrugs, closing the distance between the two of you. you find him wearing a red scarf, and the very sight of it reminds you of someone else. "i choose to spend my christmases alone, though i don't think that would be the case for you."

"how can you be so sure?"

he smirks, the gesture so natural to him. "you've been crying." when you rush to rub at your eyes, he chuckles, loud and unapologetic. "rubbing it will only make it worse, don't you think?"

"shut up, wanderer." 

“not in the mood to talk? that hurts me, especially on a beautiful night like this.” 

you huff, letting the cold from your fingers settle into your burning eyes. “whatever. just leave me alone.”

silence, though not the type you like. you wonder why you can’t here the sound of his footsteps leaving you like you were so sure he was going to do. after all, the relationship between the two of you had never been close, simply friends of friends, sparing one another a nod in acknowledgment and maybe a few snarky remarks. 

when you look up, he’s still standing there, illuminated by streetlights. 

“why aren’t you leaving?”

“what kind of person would i be to leave a crying woman alone out on the street?”

“the same type of person you’ve always been.” you sniffle, cold.

the gesture isn’t lost on the wanderer, and with a sigh, he begins to unravel his scarf. you frown, backing away slightly. 

“what do you think you’re doing?”

without a word, the wanderer takes a step, and then another until he’s right in front of you. catching your eyes, he huffs, the steam blowing over your face, before slinging the scarf around your neck. 

at his touch, you fall silent. 

“so.” he begins. “who was the one that broke your heart?”

“it was no one.” you do a poor job at avoiding his eye. 

“i’m not a patient person, name.” 

again, you ignore him, shuffling into the scarf around your neck. though it hurt your ego to admit it, the world around you definitely felt warmer. 

with a tsk, the wanderer jabs a finger at your forehead and pushes back, forcing you to look up with a yelp. your eyes meet, and an insult raises to your tongue. “what the fuck! let go of me.”

“answer the question. who stood you up?”

you shake yourself from his touch and wiggle backwards, placing distance. “it was childe, if you have to know. jesus, wanderer, your finger is cold as shit.” 

“childe?” the wanderer repeats. “childe? you’re all sad and moopy because of childe?”

you glare at him. “shut it. i don’t need you to criticise my love life.” 

finally, a loud laugh escapes his throat. he even throws his head back, though you were almost positive your confession wasn’t even the least bit funny. that doesn’t stop him though, a hand wrapping around to clutch at his stomach, his laughs quickly becoming gasps of air. 

“yeah, yeah, laugh all you want. no really, thanks for that. it’s really helping.”

the wanderer peeks up at you through one eye, the most vibrant smile you’ve ever seen on his face still remaining. “oh you have no idea how much that made my day!”

“i think i have a rough idea.”

“you’re hilarious, name. what made you go ahead and fall for childe?”

“your heart is as cold as your fingers, wanderer. besides… i didn’t say i liked him.”

“you didn’t have to. the red on your face is enough.”

your heads cover your cheeks again, cursing your body for being so expressive. “whatever. now let me leave.” 

“hold on.” his arms stops you from walking past him, his gaze lingering at your waist before he pulls back. when he turns to face you, you don’t step back despite the proximity. it felt like a challenge, like he was daring you to back down. “you’re really spending the christmas alone? seriously?”

“it doesn’t concern you.” 

“well i’m about to make it concern me. spend the christmas with me.”

this time, it was your turn to laugh. “you’re kidding me, right? we barely know each other. and you totally laughed in my face, like, a second ago.”

“you just did the same thing to me just now.” he points out. “it cancels out.”

you hold your ground. “i am not spending the christmas with you. what, are you asking me out right now?” 

“why? getting nervous?”

“as if. you’d have to be the last person on teyvat for me to go on a date with you.” 

“that’s harsh.” his breath fans over your face as he laughs. “i would have gone on a date with you if you asked.”

“well, i’m not.” 

he hums, and something in his gaze changes, like a gear clicking into place. “but i am.” 

you hate that his words leave you flustered, blaming it on the fact that his suggestion had been absurd and abrupt and not the fact that he was looking at you the way you always hoped childe would. “wanderer, don’t joke. i’m really not feeling that right now.”

ignoring your words, his fingers creep up your arm, leaving a warm trail, dragging upwards to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “well, you’re not the worst thing i could pick up on a chirstmas night.” 

“woah, you really have a way with words, huh.” your heart beats faster, a betrayal to your mind. even as you speak, you find yourself enchanted by the way he looks at you, like he was holding you in the palm of his hand. 

“not pushing me away?” his fingers drift up your cheek, and you shiver. 

then, his hand finds purchase on the top of your head, fisting a handful of your hair and yanking it up. you yelp, hands flying to the spot of pain, words of protest already on your tongue, your mind telling you that you knew it, you knew he was up to no good, when his words cuts through the panic and freezes you.

‘look.” he says, his tone somewhere between disinterest and humour. “what’s above us, hm, name?”

you study the green above the both of you in a daze. “mistletoe.”

lighter this time, he lowers your head so he can look at you, fingers caressing your head slightly as if it will erase the pain. and it does, in a wonder that only christmas can bring, you find yourself speechless. the boy in front of you doesn’t register, though you can’t miss his degrading smile and the way his head is tilted for your response. you can’t move however, unsure if moving will break the moment, unsure on why you are so hesitant to end the situation when you really should be ending it, unsure on the warmth blossoming in your chest. 

with another hand, the wanderer swipes a finger under your lip before letting it drop to pull you closer by the waist. “not protesting anymore? i always thought the snarky part of you was your only redeeming factor.”

you open and close your mouth, then open it again. 

“i guess your stupidity has it’s own charm.” he snickers. “you’re bright red.”

“i’m bright red?” you squeak. 

“mhm.” leaning in, he finally closes the distance. 

and when your lips meet under mistletoe, it isn't the soft caress of his tongue that you notice but that he didn't quite taste like gingerbread.

merry christmas everyone! whether you celebrated yesterday, or you're celebrating today, or even if you don't celebrate at all, i hope you all have a wonderful day with friends and family !! ☆ i'm a little busy so sorry for the draft (again) !!

The Age of Our Youth

Aki x Fem reader

Summary: Some loves are meant to be forgotten, but others are meant to follow you a lifetime.

A/n: I'm honestly so nervous about this 😭, I feel like this chapter is bland, but I hope y'all stick around enjoy this short series.

Genre: Romance. Angst. Modern Au.

Warnings: None really for this chapter

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Masterlist | Wc: 7.2k

With your heart thumping against your ribs, you stare at the droplets of water sliding down the expanse of the window of the restaurant you're seated in, pen tapping lightly against the white surface of the table. You can feel the strings of your heart being tugged at, sweat forming in the palms of your hand, and your heart feeling as if it’s going to climb up your chest and spill on the table. Nothing you can think of to calm your nerves, not even the tea in front of you seems to have helped, and the nauseating feeling only grows whenever a small ‘ding’ of the door opens and closes.

You refuse to look up scared that you’ll meet the blue eyes that once you used to take your breath away. The same blues that you had looked up to as if they held the universe in them. You knew better now; years of empty ice cream containers, sleepless nights, and countless heartaches had taught you that no man truly holds the totality of the world. You were truly starting to regret agreeing to this get-together Denji had set up with the entirety of your friend group. Checking the face of your wristwatch, you notice that they’re all late.

“Sorry I’m late, looks like we’re the first ones here,” the sound of his voice sends a shiver up your spine. The air no longer seems able to travel into your lungs. Aki's voice had grown deeper. Deep and melodic. “It’s nice to see you again, y/n.”

Breathing in deeply through your nose, you look up from between your lashes, avoiding his eyes, and give him a tight-lipped smile, “It’s nice to see you too, Aki.” You pause for a second, taking in the full sight of him while he stands at the edge of your table. His hair is longer now, sill pulled back from his face with a few loose strands falling into his eyes. The dark bags from long night shifts no longer decorate the bottoms of them. He holds himself up with the same confidence, hands shoved into the pockets of his leather jacket, something new you notice. You wonder if he dresses like this all the time now. “How have you been?” You ask, shaking your head and lifting the empty cup of tea to your lips.

Aki pulls the chair out in front of you, sliding into the seat smoothly, raising his hand to call over the waiter, “I’ve been fine. What about you? How have you been?”  

“I’ve been better,” you reply, setting the up-down, eyes focused on the remains on the bottom. Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you think back to the recent Facebook update you had seen on his profile thanks to your mother, your heart aching a bit when you bring it up. “Congrats on the engagement by the way,” you clear your throat, feeling the need to clarify your reason for knowing about it when you and he are no longer Facebook friends, “My mom told me about it.” 

Aki nods his head, lips formed into a thin line, “Thanks.” 

You pretend not to notice the long sigh he takes afterward or the way he fiddles with his fingers. You certainly don’t notice the way his eyebrows furrow in what seems to be frustration at the mention of his engagement. you put the pen you had been fiddling with back into your purse along with the notes you had been taking.

The air is filled with tension, each of you refusing to look at each other directly. How long had it been since the two of you had been in the same room? Five years? Three Years? The last time you remember seeing him was at Denji’s Christmas party a few years ago, but you hadn’t talked to him. Instead, you had avoided him the entire time you were there, mostly because you didn’t want him to introduce you to the girl that was hanging off his arm, the same girl he was now marrying. 

“I saw your brother the other day,” Aki interrupts the awkward silence.

“Oh? What did he say?” 

“Mmh, not much, he just told me that your parents are selling their house.” 

You're now facing each other, eyes meeting for a second before yours drift down to the cup in your hands, “Y-yeah. It was random too…it’s been on the market for a few weeks.” 

He nods again, the awkwardness settling again, you almost want to cry when the waitress finally shows up to take Aki’s drink order, filling the quiet. You stare out the window, watching as cars pull in and out, waiting for Denji’s blue mustang to pull into the parking lot. You glance at Aki, who stares at the bottles of liquor on the shelves behind the bar. You notice that his hair is now a bit longer, a few loose strands curling around his ears. Ears that now have new piercings, the jewelry reflecting the light above you. Your hand instinctively travels to the small flower-shaped in the inner part of your ear, the one that matches his. 

“I think they're here,” Aki’s voice draws your attention back to the parking lot, a dark blue mustang with neon lights flashing under pulling up.

“Finally,” you whisper under your breath, watching as both Denji and Power walk towards the front, both laughing and pushing each other along the way. You can feel some of your rigidity loosen at the sight of them, your shoulders relaxing finally. The door dings when they walk through their loud voices bouncing off the walls. A handful of people turn around and look at them. “Oh my god,” you whisper, sinking into your seat, trying to act as if you don’t know them even though they're being led straight to your table. 

“Aki! Y/n! You’re already here!” Power greets you both.

Shooting the hostess an apologetic smile you nod your head and make room for Power next to you, “You two are late.”

“Sorry, we got pulled over,” Denji answers, knitting his fingers together in front of him, “I got a ticket for speeding.”

Power laughs next to you, leaning onto the table, her chin resting on the back of her hand, “Can you believe this dumbass thought he wouldn’t get stopped when he sped up after clearly seeing a cop parked.”

Across from you, Denji pouts, rubbing his hand over his eyes, “Whatever,” he mumbles. Turning the attention away from himself, he looks at you, a friendly smile spread across his face, “Haven’t seen you in a while, y/n. How have you been?”

Returning to his smile you try to ignore how the whole table turns to look at you, “I’ve been busy, but okay. What about you? How’s the wedding planning? Last time I saw you or Reze was when we met up after we went dress shopping.”

“She’s doing fine. We just need to find a venue, which someone had to beat us to the only decent venue in town,” He answers, jamming his elbow into Aki’s arm playfully.

Ignoring Denji’s comment, he opens the menu that’s placed in front of him, his thumb and forefinger rubbing together separated by the piece of plastic, a habit you remember him doing during all your dates. You catch yourself watching him do it, a small smile starting to curl on the corner of your lips, but you shake your head and turn back to Denji.

“Can’t you just look for a different place? There are some nice venues outside of town,” you tell him, opening your menu on the table, barely glancing at it while your fingers dance along the surface of it.

Denji shakes his head, hair falling into his eyes, “Reze wants to have the reception in that place. It’s apparently where everyone in her family has gotten married.”

“Who hasn’t gotten married in that place,” Power adds sarcastically to the conversation, laughter erupting from you.

“Try telling her that,” Denji laughs.

You feel warmth spread across your chest as you laugh with them, your head feeling like it's floating up. It feels as if you’ve traveled back in time, the jokes that get tossed back and forth between the three of you, Aki giving the three of you annoyed looks, looking up occasionally up at the ceiling as if that would get the other two to be less quiet. All the awkwardness is replaced by nostalgia.

A homesick feeling settled in the bottom of your stomach, that spread up to the back of your throat, for a time when things were much easier. When you didn’t have the gaping hole in your chest with adulthood. Before you longed for success, happiness, love…for something to make you feel fulfilled. You yearned for the carefreeness that came with the early days of your youth.

~

August 2012

The sun burns the skin of your shoulders and nose while you look up at the sky, sweat coats your forehead and travels down your back, and the tank top you're wearing changes to a dark shade and does very little to cool you down. Even the water your feet are soaking in does very little to cool down the burning feeling. You can hear the chirping of the cicadas that sing along the riverbank, the sound causing you to feel irritated combined with the heat. You’re already doing your best to ignore the way the wood beneath you is hot and uncomfortable to be sitting on.

A few feet away from where you sit you can see the two idiots who are the cause of your dilemma. The reason why you're out in the scorching heat instead of sitting in front of the ac. Denji and Power splash water at each other, their laughter and howling can be heard from several blocks down, but no one is out in the streets to complain. Only people who were out of their minds would be out in this heat. And apparently, you were one of those people having let them drag you out of your room with the disguise of studying at the library for the first test of the semester, only to end up at the small riverbank of the town.

“You know if you get in the water you’ll feel much better!” Power swims up to you, pushing herself up on the small wooden dock you're sitting on.

You scrunch your nose at her, watching as droplets of water travel down the skin that her two-piece swimsuit doesn’t cover, “No, thank you.” 

“Come on,” she begs, twisting her hair causing water to hit your thigh, “it’s not even that deep.” You shake your head again, laying down on the wood a loud hiss leaving your lips when your skin makes contact with the wood. Power scowls next to you when you don’t give in to her, pushing herself up and reaching for the oversized shirt she had worn to come here, “Fine, then we’re going home.” 

“Power,” you say her name sternly, knowing that she’s about to throw a fit at you without getting in the water with them, “ you know I can’t swim.”

She doesn’t look at you, choosing to slip into her sandals, “It’s whatever. Denji, let's go!” Power glances at you, her lips pressed into a line, “You hungry?”

You sigh, already knowing that if you don’t give in a little she’ll most likely be angry with you the rest of the week, “Yeah.” You stand, dusting yourself off, “want to go to that small restaurant by campus?” you ask, already knowing her answer since it was one of her favorite places to eat.

Her mood seems to change towards you when you offer to go there, a smile spreading on her face almost instantaneously. She hoops her arm through yours, resting her chin on your shoulder to look at you, “That sounds perfect actually.” Glancing over her she calls out to Denji again, scaring him and almost causing him to fall back into the water, “Denji, hurry up! I’m hungry!”

Hooking her arm through yours, Power leads you back to the small apartment the three of you were currently able to share, a courtesy of your absent father trying to crawl his way back into your life ever since his now ex-girlfriend had left him. It was a decent-sized apartment with two bedrooms, a small balcony, and its living areas, big enough for three fresh out of high-school students. It was located a few blocks from the campus, surrounded by small boutiques and restaurants. To think that your father had put this much thought into choosing the apartment was unreal and you refused to believe that the man who hadn't talked to you since you were twelve had put in the effort.

It doesn't take you long to enter the neighborhood, the three of you avoiding the sun by staying under the large umbrellas many of the shops had hung outside their establishments. Power drags you and Denji down the sidewalk, in a hurry to change and head to the small restaurant.

You can feel your bones aching with every step you take, the heat of the sun heating the sidewalk which then seeps in through the soles of the sandals you wear. Looking behind you, Denji is shirtless, sweat dripping down his temples and his face a bright red, you're not doing any better with your shirt clinging to your body, yet somehow Power seems unaffected by the smoldering sun. Her hair isn’t stuck to her back or forehead and there are no signs of moisture on any part of her body as she skips ahead. You almost want to strangle her for it too.

Reaching the front of the building, you and Denji let out sighs of relief, quickly followed by groans when you both remember that the elevator is out of service, watching Power take two steps at a time. By the time you reach the coolness of the apartment, you don’t want to go back out into the heat, your brain is thinking of ways to delay the trip to the restaurant till after the sun goes down. Meowy greets the three of you along with the sound of the AC when you open the door.

“I think I’m dead,” Denji moans, letting his body collapse in front of the wall ac, face pressed against the cool boards of the floor. 

You follow him, landing on his back, laughing a little when he groans, and then rolling over onto yours, “Me too.” The room falls silent while you both listen to the water of the bathroom start to run, and the soft sound of the ac motor. You can hear Power moving around in washing the remnants of the river water, and you let yourself relax under the sounds of the quiet house, staring up at the dancing shadows of the house plants you keep. Turning your head you find Denji with his eyes closed, breathing softly through his nose. You know he isn’t asleep, the lack of snoring is a clear sign, so you move closer to him, letting your head rest on his elbow, “You know, I think we should get her a pet to keep her busy, I don’t think the cat is enough.”

The comment immediately makes the two of you burst, tears streaming from the corners of your eyes, and the tiredness of the walk disappearing.  

Power walks back into the living room, the cat wrapped in her arms, “What’s so funny?” 

You shake your head sitting upright, smiling up at her while she makes her way to the kitchen for some water, “Nothing. I’m going to shower real quick and then we can go.” 

“Okay,” both respond in unison, Power making her way to the pantry for cat food and Denji dropping his head back on the floor. 

You make your way to your shared room with Power, sun pouring in from the large window in front of your bed, drawing attention to the large mess of clothes spread out across the floor. “Power! Please get your clothes off the floor before we leave!” You call over your shoulder, knowing that you’ll probably end up cleaning up the mess when you get back. Pushing aside some of the mess, you make a path to the closet that still has most of your clothes in it, pulling out a satin top and a pair of pants, expecting the evening to be cooler than the day.

You make your way to the bathroom, which is a few feet on the opposite wall from Denji’s, you and Power dictating that if anyone should break in he should be the first to go instead of the two of you when you first moved in, and check the clock on your phone. 

Two O’clock in the afternoon. There were still six hours to kill till the sun started to go down, and you could take an hour in the bathing which would leave you with five. But of course, you would want to eat before eight so really you had four, you could probably convince Denji to also take an hour-long shower, so really you had three. 

Three hours to find something to distract Power. You were going to have a long afternoon.

~

It’s still early in the afternoon when Aki finds himself standing outside in the blistering heat of the summer under an umbrella that did very little to help keep him cool. His white dress shirt was sticking to his back and he had sweat stains on his underarms. The ice-cream cone that he was holding was melting, making his hand sticky, only making him more irritated. He wants to go home, back to enjoying what was supposed to be his day off, his eyes traveling to the small air-conditioned convenience store at the end of the block.

“Are you listening to anything I’m saying?” Himeno asks next to him, paying for the ice cream she had bought from the vendor.

“Yeah. I am,” he responds, licking the bottom of his cone where the ice cream is pouring over the edges.

Himeno leads them away from the shade, towards a small bench that is seated under a small tree that does not protect them from the sun. “Okay, then what was I saying?” 

“You were telling me that the suspect we’re after usually hangs around this place and that you wanted to go out for drinks.”

Himeno sighs, crossing her legs, “I hate how you do that.”

The space between them fell quiet, both slowly eating while watching as people walked in and out of the buildings of the small neighborhood, neither of them in a particularly talkative mood with how suffocating the hot air felt. Aki isn’t sure how much time passes, the curves of the sun just starting to hit the line of the horizon; the sky is painted in a bright orange and grayish blue, and the air around them finally starting to feel cooler. His shirt is still clinging to his body, and his head felt like it was being repeatedly hit. He is tired of waiting and counting down the minutes before he can go home, but when Himeno suddenly stands, he follows her lead and comes up to his feet.

“That’s our guy, the one in the red,” she points to a man in his late twenties coming out of the convenience store across from them. He’s wearing a faded red shirt and blue cap, head hanging down. Himeno throws the stick to her popsicle and starts to cross the street, “Come on, we don’t want to lose him.”

They both cross the street, keeping a few yards between them and the man they’re following. There aren't many people on the street, so it’s difficult to make it seem like they are pursuing him, even with the distance between them it’s very evident that they are. Himeno takes her left hand out of her pocket, sticking her thumb out towards the street on the other side, telling Aki to switch sides.

Aki nods his head before crossing over, reaching over his head to tighten his hair. He keeps his eyes on the blue cap of the man, the crowd around them slowly growing as they approach a busy side of town, walking side by side with Himeno who remains on the other side. He can see the man looking over his shoulder towards Himeno, his hand turning to all sides looking for an escape. Aki starts to walk faster, soon walking a few paces ahead of his superior, ready to run if he needs to.

From the back of his peripheral vision Aki sees Himeno take and light a cigarette, her eyes always on the man in front of her. She takes a step off the sidewalk before it even happens, letting Aki know that he should start to start to run, the man sprinting across the road right after she does. His blue cap falls off his head when a car almost hits him, but it doesn’t stop him from running to Aki’s side. 

Aki’s sure the man didn’t expect two people to be following, because he can see the way his shoulders relax when he looks over his shoulder and sees that Himeno isn’t even following. The man’s pace slows down once the bottom of his feet touches the sidewalk, thinking that he’ll be able to blend into the crowd and lose his pursuer. A second later letting out a surprised yelp when Aki pushes him to the ground, his hand pushing his head into the cement and twisting one of his arms behind his back. 

“What the fuck!” 

Aki pushes his knee into the center of the man’s back, Himeno jogging up behind them. “Akio Sato you're under arrest accused of money laundering, the possession of drugs, and the trafficking of drugs along with several other misdemeanors. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed to you,” she recites, just as two cop cars pull up next to them.

Aki cuffs both arms of the man below him before forcibly pulling him up and handing him over until one of the officers walks up to him. Looking he feels some of the stress from his shoulder release when he sees Angel, a friend of his from the academy. “Damn, already caught your first criminal before me.” 

Smiling, he shoves Akio towards Angel, “Of course I did.” Aki feels his heart pounding in his chest, his head feeling light. He’s breathing heavily, adrenaline running through his veins still. He lets out a shaky laugh, head tilting back to look up at the sky, the sun burning his eyes.

Angel smiles at him, reaching up behind his head to tie his hair, “Well that’s great, I’m proud of you.” The back of the car is shut, the door automatically locking, “We should celebrate later,” Angel looks over the top of the car, his partner getting in, “Text me and we’ll make plans.”

“Sure. Bye, man.” Aki waves a quick goodbye. He resumes looking up at the clear sky, his heart still pounding in his chest.

Himeno walks up next to him, lighting a new cigarette, smoke coming out of the corner of her lips, “Now that we’re done here, how about we go out and eat something nice? There’s this nice little restaurant around here.” 

~

You somehow manage to delay your trip back out into the hot weather until the sun is just starting to fall below the skyline, painted in bright pinks and pastel purples, by offering to trim Denji’s hair and then forcing him to shower. The air feels much cooler now, small gusts of air blowing, the skirt of the dress you're wearing fluttering around your knees. There are more people out on the streets now that the sun has gone down, some are sitting on the benches outside of convenience stores and restaurants while others order from the food trucks that are parked on the edges of the sidewalks. Couples are walking, their hands intertwined and smiles spread across their faces, making it difficult for your trio to walk down the narrow walkway. 

Power and you walk with your arms hooked to each other, Denji walking right behind you in between your arms, walking in the inner part of the sidewalk, you walk closer to the building. You catch endings of conversation, Power nudging your side when someone says something juicy, all of you finishing the ending with your version of what the conversation could be about. Lips inches apart and foreheads less than an inch from touching. Both of you leaning towards each other, whispers and giggles reaching Denji. 

When you reach the small restaurant, the blue light from the fluorescent bulbs comes out through the window, lighting the small piece of sidewalk in front of it. There are only two other small groups of people inside spread out. The three of you walk in and head towards the rectangular window that takes up the center of the furthest wall from the entrance. Pen, who owns the place greets you, her salt and peppered hair pulled back out of her face into a tight bun. She greets the three of you with a wide smile like she does every time you come in, resting her elbows on the counter, “Hi guys, what can I get you?”

“I’ll have the same as usual,” Denji answers, already walking towards the usual spot you sit in near the back corner, a smiley face neon sign each face colored a different color, and four different colored chairs. 

You and Power lean over the counter, looking over the menu that’s taped onto it, though you both know you're going to order the same thing. Pen hums, her nails light beating against the surface. “We do this every time, and you girls always end up ordering the same thing,” She teases. 

“You’re right, I’ll have what I usually get, but I’ll have tea instead of strawberry soda,” you respond, pushing yourself off the counter to head to your table. You sit on the opposite side of Denji, leaning back against the wall and resting your heels on the edge. Looking at Denji, running your fingers along the surface of the table, “I haven’t seen Reze lately.”

Running his fingers through his hair, he looks up at you, “Uh, yeah…we sort of had a fight last Saturday, and I haven’t been able to get in touch with her.” 

“Oh. Well if you want to talk about it or need advice, Power and I are here for you. You know that right?”

Denji nods, “I do.”

“Good.”

Power joins you at the table, her fingers reaching for the hair band that’s around your wrist, “Pen said our food will be out in a few minutes. What are you two talking about?”

“Just talking about how Reze hasn’t been around much,” you answer, looking at Denji out of the corner of your eye.

Smiling teasingly, Power leans back in her chair, only two of the legs remain on the floor, “What did she get tired of you and dump you? I mean I get why she would.” 

From the corner of your eye, you see Denji’s jaw clench, and his knuckles turning white. You lightly kick one of Power’s chair legs, “Power stop. They just had a very bad fight, and she hasn’t gotten back to him. Let’s change the subject, and try to have fun.”

The door dings open, your attention snapping towards, and a woman with short hair steps in, a cigarette dangling from her lips. She’s dressed in a black suit with high heels, an eye patch covering her right eye. She’s followed by a younger man, dressed in a matching suit, the tie undone, and jacket thrown over his shoulder. He has long hair, that is pulled out of his face, and a stern look on his face that doesn’t match his young appearance. 

“He's kinda cute,” you mumble just loud enough for Power and Denji to hear you.

Power smiles, her manicured nail between her teeth, “Bet you can’t talk to him.”

You look at her, raising an eyebrow, “What? Are you serious?”

“Of course, it’s easy money for me.” She turns towards Denji, “You in?”

Denji looks up at the two of you, eyes crinkling a little on the edges as he smiles a little, “Sure.”

“Okay, what are we betting?” You take your feet over the edge of the chair onto the floor and lean closer to Power.

Leaning in towards you she smiles, “How about a month's worth of chores?”

Your nails tap on the table, “Okay, but it doesn’t include laundry.”

“Okay, but you have a fifteen-minute time limit.”

Extending your hand towards her, “Deal.”

“Deal,” Power takes your hand and you both shake.

Pen walks to your table with your food, placing it on the table along with your bill. “You guys enjoy,” she says before turning around and walking back to the counter to take the newcomers' orders.

The minutes pass and the two take a seat a few tables down from where you’re sitting, chatting quietly among themselves. Power keeps shoving her elbow into your side while you eat, she and Denji laugh every time you spit up your food when she does. Almost every person, in the restaurant, turns to look at the three of you, annoyed looks painted across their faces. Denji and Power have no problem ignoring the ugly looks, however, you on the other hand give apologetic smiles. 

“It’s been eight minutes,” Power whispers, “I knew you wouldn’t do it.”

You shove the last of your food into your mouth, “I’ll do it, just waiting for the right moment.”

“Sure.”

From the corner of your eye, you see the cute guy stand up and walk out the front door, the bell above it ringing when the door opens and closes. “Okay, I’ll be right back,” you stand and lean over Power’s shoulder to whisper “You two better keep your end of the bet,” before walking out of the restaurant.

The night has fully taken over, the moon fully visible in the dark sky along with the twinkling stars. It’s still early enough that a few people are still out on the streets, eating at food trucks and sitting along the sidewalk enjoying ice cream. The man you came chasing after is leaning against the arm of the bench that rests between the restaurant and the boutique next to it, his phone in his hands.

You clear your throat, and swing your body from side to side, looking around into the busy street, “It’s a nice night out.”

He looks up from his phone, eyeing the space around where you both stand to see if you're talking to him or someone else. When he sees that it’s only you and him he answers, a curt answer before returning to his phone, “Yeah I guess.”

You feel uncomfortable when it’s quiet again. A cool breeze flows through, lifting the bottom of your skirt an inch. You take in a deep breath just as it does, your nervousness calming a bit when you smell the fresh scent of freshly mowed grass mixed in with the aroma of the foods being cooked. You look at the man again, side-stepping towards him, and commenting again, “It’s much better than the hot night.” He looks up, his eyes making direct contact with yours. You want to turn away, your face burning, but the dark blue of his eyes draws you in. Swallowing the spit in the back of your throat you start to rock yourself again, “Don’t you think?

“Yeah, I guess.” He smiles when he sees how awkward you’re being as you sway on the heels of your feet.

You cover your face with your hands, “I’m so sorry, my friends and I made a bet, I didn’t mean to bother you.”

“It’s fine. I got to meet and talk to you. Names Aki.”

You look at him, smiling a little, “It was nice meeting you, Aki.” 

Aki can feel the heat rising to his face and his heart skip a few beats when you say his name for the first time. He doesn’t understand the feeling that is swirling in his stomach, and why his hands are sweating so badly. He just met you, so why does the sight of your smile make his heart beat irregularly in his chest? Swallowing the spit in his mouth, he returns your smile, “It was nice meeting you too, y/n.” Aki’s eyes travel behind you, watching as your two friends step out of the restaurant, leftovers in their hands. He points behind you, “Your friends are out.”

You peer over your shoulder, “Oh, I guess they are. I should go. I’ll see you around.” Taking one step back you raise your hand giving him a small awkward good-bye wave. 

Aki watches you walk back to Power and Denji, his stomach still doing flips, and heart pounding. He watches you smile a big bright smile at Power, your arm hooking with hers, and the three of you start to walk away in the opposite direction. You look over your shoulder one last time, your cheek resting against Power’s shoulder, and give one last smile. He’s still looking in the direction you walked off in long after the three silhouettes disappear into the distance, the lights on the street buzzing, and he wonders if he’ll see you again soon. 

~

Present Day

As the afternoon turns to night, the table becomes louder and louder, Power and Denji telling you of mishaps that had happened to them while you were busy with your own life, and Aki's body seems to relax against the chair he’s in, speaking and laughing more than he did at the start of the night. The plates of food from your table had long since been removed, replaced by alcoholic drinks and dessert. The tension in your body releases the more you drink and laugh, time feeling as if it's barely moving. 

It’s not until a different waiter than the one who had first served comes up to your table with a check in hand, telling you that they're about to close that you realize how late it is. Looking around you see that the restaurant is empty excluding the employees.

“Oh, we’re so sorry,” you say, reaching into your bag and pulling out your card like the rest of the table. 

“Fuck, Reze is going to be pissed,” he stretches the last of his sentence, “I told you I’d only be gone an hour tops…it’s been like four.”

Power laughs at him, raising the straw from her drink to point at him, “And that is why I don’t date.”

“You don’t date because everyone who dates you finds you annoying,” Denji throws back, moving out of the way when she throws an ice cube at him. You and Aki laugh next to them, your eyes and mind dazed over by the alcohol.

“We should do this again soon. I missed hanging out with you guys. Even you Aki.” You blurt out, eyes on the two idiots, not noticing the way Aki gawks at you. 

It’s the first time since Power and Denji arrived that you acknowledge his presence, even though he’s sitting right across from you. And the fact that you finally did has the inside of his chest feeling a little warm, something that he hadn’t felt in a while. 

Aki answers in a quiet breath when the other two don’t hear you over their play fighting, “We should.” A rush of emotions goes through him when you look at him, your eyes glazed over and your lips slightly parted. Time stops for the both of you.

The waiter comes back with your cards and receipts, walking all four of you out the front of the restaurant and locking them behind you. All four of you stare at the closed door.

“I think they didn’t want us to come back in,” Denji says, turning and walking towards his car. 

“You’re driving? Didn’t you drink?” you ask, the floor underneath you feeling unsteady with every step you take.

Denji shakes his head, nodding towards a wobbling Power, “I have her to take care of.” He looks around the parking lot, “Do you need a ride home? I don’t see your car.”

“I took a Lyft here. And no, I don’t want to bother you, my place is the other way,” you pull out your phone holding it up facing him, “I’ll just take one back.”

“Not going to happen.” Aki interjects, “It’s late, and there are a lot of creeps, I’ll drive you home.”

“There’s no ne-”

“I’m not taking no for an answer. It’s not safe,” he interrupts your protest.

Denji speaks up as he steps backward towards his car, “Aki’s right. If you don’t want me to drive you home, let him. I think we would all feel much relaxed knowing we all got home safely.” 

There’s a need to protest again, but instead, you just nod, hands clasped in front of you. You both watch as Denji wraps an arm underneath Power’s underarms and waves goodbye before loading her into the passenger side of the car.

“Come on, I’ll drive you home.” Aki sighs, hands shoved into his pockets, turning and walking away from you. With no other choice, you follow him to a white BMW, sweat forming in the palms of your hands, you wish you were someone else right now.

You get into the passenger side, hands folded neatly in your lap as Aki starts to the car, eyes flickering across the clean interior of the car and sniffing the faint scent of cigarettes. “I didn’t know you smoked.” 

Aki’s fingers hover the screen in his car, a keypad popping up, “Yeah, I guess we haven’t seen each other in a while. Do you still have the same address?”

You nod your head and hum a response, “Yeah I guess we haven’t, and kinda, I’m still in the general area. I moved to a new condo a year ago. Here I’ll type the address.” You lean forward to put it in, your hand pushing his hand out of the way. The quick and simple touch of your skin touching his causes your face to burn, “Sorry.” 

The car falls silent, except for his music, as he pulls out of the parking lot. You watch buildings pass you, feel the movement of the car when it turns, and can hear the thumping of Aki’s fingers against the steering wheel above the soft sound of the engine whenever the car stops at a red light. Neither of you says anything for a few minutes before the silence becomes unbearable.

“So how are things with your dad?”

“Um, th-they’re okay. He’s getting married, so that’s exciting,” You turn to look at him. 

Aki’s fingers stop tapping against the wheel, blue eyes glancing at the GPS, “To Tomoe?”

You shake your head, laughing awkwardly, “They broke up a long time ago. No, um, it’s some woman he met abroad. Half his age.”

He reacts with a long, “Oh,” his fingers resuming their tapping on the center of the horn. 

“Yeah,” you stretch out, the tense silence settling between the two of you once more. Staring out the window again, you notice that you're now in your neighborhood. The streets are empty and the lights to the windows of the buildings are all shut off, the only source of light coming from the street lights that run along the edge of the sidewalk. 

Aki pulls up next to the condo building where you live, the lights from the lamps outside lighting the space up to the large glass door. The two of you remain still and quiet, staring at the road ahead. You feel as if you should say something. Feel the need to finish, and get closure, on the conversation from five years ago. 

You can still hear the echo of the words you said that you didn’t mean and can feel the knot from that day lodged in your throat every time you think about it. Glancing at Aki you wonder how he feels about how you left things if he felt the same nauseating turn of his stomach when he remembers. 

“Aki?” You whisper, swallowing the spit that forms in the back of your throat.

“Mmh?”

He turns towards you, both of his hands still resting on the wheel. He isn’t smiling at you, but he also doesn’t seem to be having the same emotional turmoil that you are, his expression unreadable. You open and close your mouth, losing the train of thought on what you wanted to say to clear the air, but with the way Aki appears unaffected by your closeness in the small space of the car, you decide that maybe he doesn’t need the same thing closure you do. “Um, Thanks for driving me home. You didn’t have to.”

He smiles at you, “It was nothing, and I really wouldn’t have been able to sleep if I hadn’t.”

“Well thanks anyway,” you reach for the door handle and open the door “I-I should go in.” You get out of the car, “Bye, Aki.”

Aki lifts one of his hands and gives you a small wave, “Good-night, y/n.”

You close the door behind you and walk a few feet up the pathway to the door, pulling your keycard from the back of the pocket attached to your phone. The ground underneath you still feels a little unsteady, but you manage to get to the front of the building, up the three stairs, and into the building. 

When you're closing the door you notice that Aki’s BMW is still parked outside. His dark tinted windows are rolled up, and though you can’t see him you still raise both your hands and wave a last goodbye smiling with your head tilted to your left, before stepping away and heading towards the elevator. Your phone dings a second later, a tiny smile spreads across your face when you see Aki’s name pop up again for the first time in years, and you open the text, the smile spreading a little wider despite the words deepening the ache in your chest.

Sleep tight. See you around.

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