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When he slept like this, Suguru could see why so many people thought the other was beautiful. The way his pure white hair curled into his eyelashes made him look like the picture of innocence. His soft cheeks seemed rounder and pinker in the dim lighting of the bedroom and his eyes fluttered lightly with each breath he took.
He really did look like an angel sometimes. Suguru brushed a hand along the rosy cheek, the pads of his fingers tingling with the soft warm touch.
It was too bad Suguru knew the truth behind that pretty face. Just this morning, the bastard had been rolling around on the ground, begging for attention like a dog. He went as far as to cling to Geto’s leg outing and whining like a child, about how bored he was.
But Suguru supposed that not even he could say no to him forever. Only an hour later, the pair was wandering the streets together aimlessly window shopping, knuckles brushing every so often.
Suguru didn’t know why he put up with it.
The other’s annoying need for attention wasn’t the only bad thing about Satoru Gojo. Suguru could list hundreds of annoying things about the other if he was being honest. He had plenty of bad habits. Unfortunately for Suguru (and Shoko and Nanami and anyone else who knew him on a personal level), everyone else seemed to ignore them in the presence of those pretty blue eyes.
Suguru had just rolled his eyes and accepted it, agreeing to spend time with the other to shut him up. And because he liked him, just a little. Upon Satoru’s insistence, Suguru treated him to a pastry at the local cafe. It was only there that Suguru was reminded of another of his bad habits.
Suguru had nodded with a grimace, apologizing on behalf of his friend. The staff had by now grown used to Satoru’s antics, taking his order with polite smiles. Unfortunately, the new barista had not.
Suguru watched as the excitement in Satoru’s eyes grew exponentially and a slew of flirtatious quips escaped him. It didn’t end there, though. Once he received his snack from a blushing barista, he sat down and started right back up again to the old lady in the seat behind him, and then again to the poor delivery man who tripped over his too-long legs.
Suguru rolled his eyes when none of the strangers really seemed to mind the flirting.
Another problem with Satoru Gojo, after all, was his fairy princess good looks. The man could swindle nearly anything out of anyone with a bat of his long white eyelashes. In public, his hair was always perfect and his clothes never had so much as a wrinkle. Suguru had yet to see his smile falter in the face of an adversary. Or a handsome man or beautiful woman. Because of this, he never failed to get his way. Suguru cursed anyone who denied the existence of pretty privilege. Satoru was infuriating.
Finally, Satoru never seemed to be on the same page as everyone else. He acted silly when other people were serious, and wouldn’t crack so much as a smile when others were joking around. He never knew how to read the room—or he did and just ignored it—and it made everything so much more awkward for all involved. Everyone except for Satoru Gojo.
Satoru was by no means perfect, no matter what he told the world. He was annoying and childish and vulnerable. He had a million and one problems and with each new day, Suguru was learning about more of them.
The issue was, though…he made Suguru laugh.
When he rolled on the floor in his proper clothing, whining in front of principal Yaga, Geto was on the ground soon after, choking on his breath as their sensei made that face at Satoru’s predictable meltdown.
When he flirted, it was annoying as hell, but sometimes people would surprise him and he’d slip up. The rare moments when people Satoru found exceptionally attractive flirted back and Satoru got flustered made it all worth it.
That afternoon, the delivery man had leaned over Satoru with a smirk and apologized. His large build dwarfed even Satoru, casting a shadow over his whole body. The swiveling of Satoru’s eyes and the blush on his ears reminded Suguru that this part of his personality was just a facade—a game he played with himself and anyone smart enough to notice. And he was not good at losing, given the mumbled “thank you” when the man called him pretty.
The flutter in Suguru’s heart replaced all jealousy at the blushing response. Satoru really didn’t know how to take it at all. So Suguru laughed at his downcast companion as he shuffled his feet and mumbled a quiet “shut up” to Suguru. Meanwhile, Suguru’s smile only got bigger with the cute reaction.
But the delivery man wasn’t wrong in what he said. Satoru Gojo really was pretty. He was the prettiest person Suguru knew. His long thin figure and gentle features were surely nothing to scoff at. His hair shone like moonlight even though he never seemed to put any effort into maintaining it. But what Suguru really loved was the soft messy way his hair looked after a nap. He loved the sweet genuine smile, meant only for Suguru.
Except he wasn’t always like that. After living with each other for a while, Suguru got to see the side of Satoru that he hid from the world. The clothes he wore in the comfort of the dorms hardly ever fit. They were too short and too baggy in all the wrong areas. He struggled to find clothes that fit him, so more often than not, he would raid Suguru’s closet for hoodies.
Satoru was also unhealthy. So much so that Suguru’s heart would clench and his eyes felt glued to the other, watching out for any outward signs of distress. Sometimes it was so bad that Satoru’s hair lost its natural shine and his everseeing eyes lost their brightness. The man hardly slept and was plagued by constant nightmares. This was the reason he had initially refused to be seen in the morning. After Suguru caught him mid-nightmare, though, Satoru stopped keeping him at arm's length. He allowed Suguru to watch him sleep with little more than a roll of his eyes. And this began Suguru’s current position, sitting up in bed, playing on his phone with one hand, the other tangled in a mess of white. Soft breaths hit his bare thigh, making him shiver.
He clenched his hand at the nape of the other's neck and received a whine and a nuzzle in return. Suguru smiled. Satoru had admitted not too long ago that this grounded him. His sleep had gotten better and so had Suguru’s mood. His stomach twisted at the slack expression on the sleeping face. His thumb dug into the thin neck, right under the pale chin, just briefly. Satoru whined again, and Suguru’s grip slackened, rubbing the spot softly with a smirk.
But Suguru had to admit—Satoru was pretty no matter how tired or bedraggled he was. It was just part of his charm.
Now, sleeping, Satoru seemed soft. Innocent, even. His sweet features showed nothing of his true nature. Satoru, after all, was stubborn. He was disagreeable in nearly every sense of the word, fighting with people just to fight. He annoyed his superiors and classmates alike, just to watch them tick. He proposed wild suggestions to sensei when tasked with finding curses, but strangely enough stood straight-faced in the corner during the after party, when the curses were disposed of.
His dynamic personality drove everyone around him crazy. It felt like Gojo just wanted to be different in a world of people so similar.
And Suguru would have been annoyed, too. But the thing was, he and Satoru understood each other. When Satoru was making wild claims, Suguru smiled knowing he was just trying to relieve the tension in the younger students’ shoulders—prove to them that as long as he was there they would be fine. He made jokes in front of elders because they were jackasses that didn’t deserve respect. He mocked curses left and right because he could—because he really was the strongest. It was possible that Satoru read the room better than anyone.
This was especially the case when it came to his silences. Because Suguru stood right next to him like a wallflower as the parties raged on, knowing that lives were lost that could have been saved. Satoru Gojo—all seeing Satoru Gojo—could see every possibility, every choice that could have been made, and was thinking about all of the people he failed.
And Suguru hated him for it. But he also loved him for it. Because, while Suguru didn’t have the same abilities, he had the same guilt. They shared a heart, and the burden was for both of them to dwell on together. Suguru hated Satoru for hating himself, but he loved him for the love he had for the rest of the world, no matter how hard he tried to hide it.
Satoru Gojo was an enigma to everyone. Everyone except Suguru. He understood his motives. He saw beneath those shiny blue eyes and into his soul. And when he grasped his neck like a vice, watching him sleep, he loved what he saw. Because he saw something different from the rest of the world. The rest of the world saw the all-powerful, pretty, and confident Satoru Gojo.
Suguru just saw Satoru. Flawed and imperfect Satoru with a sweet heart and a smile made just for Suguru.