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Suguru liked to think he knew Satoru pretty well.
They’d been friends for years now—long enough that Suguru could read him with unsettling accuracy. He could tell when Satoru was genuinely annoyed versus when he was just playing it up for show. He knew the subtle shifts in his expressions, the difference between his real laughs and the ones meant to annoy people.
And it wasn’t a one-sided thing, either. Satoru knew just as much about him—his past, his thoughts, his habits, all of it. Suguru had never been the type to keep things to himself. If Satoru asked, he answered. It wasn’t like he expected the same in return—he knew everyone had their secrets—but he’d always assumed Satoru was just as open with him as he was with Satoru.
That was why, the moment he stepped into Satoru’s room, Suguru immediately noticed something was off.
Satoru was sprawled out on his bed, his head propped up against a pillow, phone held inches from his face. That part wasn’t strange—Satoru was always on his phone when he had nothing better to do, playing one of those pixelated, laggy games.
No, the “off” part was the look on his face—
He was wearing the stupidest smile Suguru had ever seen.
It was nothing like his usual smug, shit-eating grin he threw around to piss people off. Not the cocky, overconfident smirk he wore when he was winning a fight—no, this time, his mouth curled in an actual, genuine, stupidly soft smile. There was something almost tender in the way he stared at his screen, as if the rest of the world had momentarily faded out.
Suguru was unable to look away. What the hell was that?
“What are you up to?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
Satoru’s reaction was immediate. His head snapped up so fast it was a wonder he didn’t give himself whiplash. That flicker of softness vanished in an instant, “Oh, nothing.” He singsonged, snapping his phone shut casual flick.
Suguru narrowed his eyes. “Uh-huh.”
Satoru, always quick to redirect, immediately locked onto the plastic bag in Suguru’s hands. “What’d you get?” he asked.
So, he wasn't going to tell Suguru, huh? What exactly was Satoru doing that he didn’t want him to know about?
Suguru held the bag closer to himself, “What’s up with you?” he countered, refusing to hand it over until he got some answers.
“Nothing,” Satoru repeated, just a little too breezily. “What’s in the bag?”
Suguru wasn’t about to let it slide. He tilted his head, studying him. “Why were you giggling at your phone?”
“Was I?”
“No,” Suguru looked him up and down, the image of that stupidly soft smile burned into his mind. “But it was pretty damn close.”
He didn’t think he was ever going to get that picture out of his memory. The way Satoru’s eyes had crinkled, not in amusement or mischief like usual, but in something softer. The way his grin had stretched wide, completely unguarded.
What could get Gojo Satoru—a person who had never been affectionate in his life—to look like that?
“I think you’ve finally lost it, Suguru.” Satoru hummed, that cocky grin slipping effortlessly back into place. “All those curses you’ve been absorbing finally messing with your brain?”
Suguru didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he strode over and deliberately placed the bag at the edge of the bed, just out of Satoru’s reach. He wasn’t done with this conversation—not by a long shot.
Satoru, however, was nothing if not persistent.
Without missing a beat, he pushed himself up, raising a hand lazily. A flicker of blue light sparked at his fingertips, and in an instant, the bag lurched toward him.
Suguru barely had time to react before Satoru snatched it mid-air, grinning like he’d just won the lottery. He sifted through the bag, fishing out a can of soda.
Suguru was not having any of it. He quickly reached across the bed, fingers wrapping around the aluminum.
“Hey—tell me what you’re up to first,” he demanded, tightening his grip. “Then you can have it.”
Satoru twisted away, keeping the can just out of reach. “I think I have it right now, actually.” He shot Suguru a triumphant grin.
Suguru narrowed his eyes. “You—” Before he could think better of it, he lunged again, this time knocking into Satoru with enough force to send them both sprawling back onto the mattress.
Satoru snorted, still clutching the can to his chest. “This is really embarrassing for you,” he taunted.
Suguru groaned, bracing himself on one elbow as he tried to wrestle the can away again. “You’re so annoying,” He groaned.
“And you’re losing.” Satoru mused. The smugness in his tone only made Suguru more determined.
Just like that, the conversation was forgotten about.
. . . .
They were both on a mission when Suguru caught it again.
When Satoru had told him he wanted to test something new with his technique, Suguru hadn’t thought much of it. He figured it would be some slight variation of his usual attacks—maybe a little flare to it or a faster, more efficient method. What he didn’t expect was for Satoru to make the mosquito-looking curse explode.
It collapsed in on itself with a grotesque pop, followed by a sickening squelch before blood burst from the remains, spraying across the forest in thick, wet streaks. The sound alone made Suguru’s stomach churn.
Satoru, protected by the barrier of Infinity, remained spotless. Suguru, however, was not as lucky.
The thick, maroon liquid clung to his skin, seeping into his uniform, his hair, even soaking into his shoes. A slow, sticky drop ran down his forehead, threatening to slide into his eye. The smell was awful—metallic and pungent, like rust and rot mixed together.
Satoru was the first to break the silence. “Huh.”
“Satoru.” Suguru gaped down at himself, swiping his sleeve across his face in a vain attempt to clean himself off. His actions only smearing the blood rather than cleaning it. “What the fuck.”
“My bad,” Satoru laughed at him, looking anything but apologetic.
“At least warn me first?” Suguru picked at his uniform, no doubt ruined by the blood covering it.
Satoru gave a small, noncommittal shrug. “I didn’t know that was gonna happen.”
Suguru inhaled slowly, forcing himself to stay calm. He was still mid-breath when Satoru pulled out his phone.
"Quick, Suguru, say cheese.” He grinned.
Suguru barely had time to process before the camera shutter clicked. Then another. And another.
“Really?” he gritted out, feeling a vein twitch in his temple.
Satoru barely spared him a glance, completely absorbed in capturing every angle of Suguru’s misery. "Shoko's gonna love this," he laughed, flicking through the shots with a satisfied smirk.
Suguru really wanted to retaliate by wiping his blood-covered hands all over Satoru’s face. He would’ve if Satoru didn’t have Infinity up at all times. Just as he considered snapping Satoru’s phone in half instead, a drop of blood dripped down his cheek, falling right onto his lips.
Suguru immediately doubled over, spitting and wiping furiously at his mouth. “God. That’s disgusting—”
He cut himself off.
At some point, Satoru had stopped his manic giggling and instead, focused his attention on his phone. That same, stupidly warm smile graced his lips. His gaze had softened too, looking nothing like his usual.
Suguru straightened, squinting. “What are you doing?”
Satoru hummed, snapping his head back up. “Sending the pictures to Shoko.” He answered.
“Yeah, right.” Suguru deadpanned. The blood he was currently covered in turned into an afterthought. This was way more pressing. “You’re making that stupid face again.”
“What stupid face?” Satoru’s nose scrunched.
Suguru scoffed, crossing his arms. "You’re staring at your phone like it just hung the moon and stars."
Satoru shut his phone with an exaggerated click. "I think you're seeing things."
Suguru just sighed, forcing himself to drop it. If Satoru didn’t want to tell him, then fine. Whatever. It wasn’t like prying had ever worked on him before. Suguru could push all he wanted, but there was no point in pressing if Satoru had already made up his mind.
That didn’t mean it didn’t drive him insane. His fingers twitched at his sides, practically itching to grab Satoru’s phone and see for himself. He curled them into fists instead, jaw tightening as annoyance coiled tight in his chest.
With effort, he exhaled and forced himself to focus on the far more immediate problem—the mess he was in. He peeled off his soaked outer jacket with a grimace, the blood clinging to his skin like tar.
"You’re helping me wash this off, by the way," he muttered, throwing Satoru a pointed look—because, really, this was his fault.
Satoru snorted, the smugness sliding right back into place like it had never left. "Last time I checked that’s your uniform, Suguru. Not mine."
Suguru met his grin with a flat stare. Then, very deliberately, he flicked a glob of blood in Satoru’s direction. He didn’t expect it to land—not with Satoru’s Infinity activated.
Except it did.
Satoru yelped, jerking back. "Suguru, what the hell!"
Suguru blinked. Then, slowly, his lips curved into a smirk as he rolled up his sleeves. Huh, this was interesting. "You think Shoko would like a picture of you covered in blood too?"
“No, actually—“
Suguru didn’t waste a second before moving.
. . . .
It kept him up at night. No matter how much he tried to push it from his mind, he couldn’t get himself to stop thinking about it.
The look in Satoru’s eyes every time that expression flickered across his face—it wasn’t the teasing, smug smile Satoru usually wore, it didn’t hold the sharp glint of challenge or mischief. It was something softer, something real. It looked almost affectionate.
Suguru couldn't wrap his head around it, because when had Satoru ever been the type of person to look so openly fond of something?
Someone—Suguru assumed.
That wasn’t what really got to him, though.
His real problem was that Satoru had an object of affection. One he hadn’t mentioned to Suguru. And worse than that, it wasn’t him.
That affection—the same one that looked too much like the way he felt about Satoru—was directed elsewhere. Toward someone else.
He knew, realistically, that he didn’t have a chance. Satoru had never given him any reason to think otherwise. They were friends—just friends, nothing more. Never in a million years would they ever be anything more. Knowing that, though, didn’t make it sting any less.
He felt a little stupid. Awkward. It couldn’t be more obvious how one-sided his feelings were. And, the fact that Suguru couldn’t stop thinking about it—while Satoru was too preoccupied with whatever, or whoever, was making him smile like that—was ridiculous.
Another sleepless night passed, and eventually, exhaustion won out over frustration. With a sigh, Suguru pushed himself out of bed and trudged to the kitchen, determined to brew any kind of tea that might help him sleep.
Only, Suguru couldn’t seem to find a moment of peace.
After he had settled into the quiet of the kitchen, the electric kettle humming as steam curled from its spout, soft footsteps echoed down the hall.
Shoko yawned, rubbing at her eyes as she shuffled inside. “You’re awake?” She shot him a bleary look.
“Yeah.” Suguru kept his gaze on the kettle, watching the water bubble up. “Couldn’t sleep.”
Shoko wandered over to the pantry, cracking it open and peering inside with a frown. “Man, when’s the last time you two went shopping?” she mumbled, rummaging through half-empty chip bags.
Suguru had thought that getting out of his room, distracting himself with the simple ritual of making tea would help clear his head. It didn’t. The thoughts still circled back no matter how much he tried to shove them down.
And before he could stop himself, the words tumbled from his mouth. “Hey, Shoko,” he started, immediately regretting it.
“Hm?”
Too late to backtrack. He hesitated for half a second before exhaling, fingers drumming lightly against the counter. “Do you think Satoru has been… I don’t know. Acting weird?”
Shoko pulled a bag from the pantry, the crinkling sound filling the silence as she tore it open. “How so?”
“He keeps,” Suguru gestured vaguely in the air, trying to find the right words, “sort of smiling at his phone. And every time I ask him about it, he plays dumb.”
That got Shoko’s attention. She turned to him, chewing slowly as she gave him a long, scrutinizing look. “Is that why you’re up at two in the morning, staring at a kettle..?” She raised an eyebrow at him, her judgment obvious.
“No, god.” Suguru scoffed, lying easily. “The thought just crossed my mind, that’s all.”
“Uh-huh.” Shoko hummed, unconvinced. She leaned against the counter, eyes sharp with amusement. “Maybe he has a girlfriend.”
The words hit Suguru harder than they should have. His fingers stilled on the counter, “You think so?” He asked casually.
“Yeah, I mean, why else would someone act all weird and defensive after smiling at their phone?” She popped another chip into her mouth.
Suguru’s heart dropped in his chest. That had been his first thought, too, but hearing it spoken out loud made it feel a little too real.
Shoko snorted, shaking her head. “That asshole got a girlfriend before I did? I don’t believe it.”
Suguru didn’t believe it either. It wasn’t like they had much time for social lives. Between missions and training, their schedules were packed. When would Satoru have even had the chance to meet someone? Unless he met this girl while he was out on a mission?
Suguru scratched that thought immediately after it crossed his mind. They took almost every mission together—there hadn’t been a single moment where Satoru could’ve snuck off and met someone without him noticing. Sure, Satoru had always entertained the girls who were bold enough to flirt with him, flashing that grin of his just to soak in the attention, but he’d never actually pursued any of them.
He’d said it himself once after Suguru had called him out for being too harsh when rejecting a girl. He told him relationships were a hassle—a waste of time. He wasn’t looking for one, so he shouldn’t give them room to think otherwise.
There was no way Satoru had a girlfriend. It couldn’t be that.
But what else could it be if not that?
Suguru couldn’t figure it out.
Shoko crunched down on another chip, watching him too closely for his liking. “What, jealous?”
Suguru scoffed, forcing a laugh. “Of what?”
She smirked. “That he might he might have someone else.”
Suguru rolled his eyes, “Why would I be jealous of that?” He tried to sound casual, but the words felt a little too forced, a little too defensive. “I don’t care who he spends time with.”
Shoko raised an eyebrow, glancing at his hand. “Your knuckles are white, dude.”
Suguru unclenched his fingers immediately. “I just—” His voice caught for half a second before he threw her a pointed look. “Why do you think I’d be jealous of that? What if I was jealous of him, not of the girl.”
Shoko doesn’t miss a beat, “So you are jealous?” She gave him a flat look, unimpressed.
Suguru paused, lips parting like he was about to say something, but nothing came out. He blinked, scoffing as if that would shake off the ridiculousness of the accusation. “No, of course not.”
Shoko huffed out a laugh, shaking her head as she turned to leave. “You’re hilarious.”
Suguru clicked his tongue as he watched her go.
. . . .
The rhythmic thud of the basketball echoed through the gym, filling the empty space between Suguru’s words.
He spun the ball in his hands, tossing it lightly between his palms as he ranted—this time about the asshole who had cut him in line at the konbini earlier. He was mid-sentence, still half-annoyed at the whole ordeal, when he finally noticed it.
The lack of response.
Normally, Satoru would have butted in by now—throwing out some snide remark or making fun of how Suguru somehow always ended up in these situations. But now? Nothing.
Suguru glanced over his shoulder.
Satoru was slouched against the wall, legs stretched out, phone in hand. He wasn’t even looking at him. Just staring down at his screen, the faintest, stupidest smile tugging at the corners of his lips—the same one Suguru had only recently come to recognize. The one he couldn’t get out of his head.
Suguru’s voice died out. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen Satoru distracted by his phone—it wasn’t like Suguru cared about that. Satoru could do whatever he wanted. It wasn’t like Suguru needed his attention.
And yet, Suguru was used to a certain rhythm between them, a balance he never had to think about until it started tipping. He was used to having Satoru’s focus, to the way he always cut in, challenging him, poking fun, stirring up some kind of reaction. Demanding his attention as much as he gave it in return. It had become so normal, so natural, that Suguru never had to think about it.
Until now.
Noticing the silence, Satoru’s head snapped up. His expression shifted, as if he was just now remembering where he was.
Suguru didn’t even bother asking what had him so distracted. He already knew he wouldn’t get an answer. Instead, he tilted his head toward the hoop. “You gonna play?”
Satoru stretched lazily, shoving his phone into his pocket before pushing himself up. His lips curved into a smirk, slipping back into their usual banter. “So eager to lose, Suguru?”
Normally, Suguru would’ve had the mind to play along, to meet Satoru’s overconfident energy with just as much force. Now, he simply tossed the ball into the air, watching it arc smoothly before falling through the hoop. “3-0,” he stated, “I think you’re losing, Satoru.” He purred.
Satoru scoffed, jogging forward to scoop up the ball. “Yeah, let’s see how long that lasts.”
He spun the ball between his fingers, easy, casual—like nothing had changed.
For now, Suguru pretended like nothing had.
. . . .
Suguru was almost at his breaking point, he thought.
His room was quiet, save for the faint scratching of his pen against paper and the soft clicks of Satoru pressing buttons on his DS. Suguru sat at his desk, his leg bouncing furiously, scribbling down the final details of their mission report—the one Satoru had outright refused to touch, as usual.
The man himself sprawled across his bed, one leg dangling off the edge, his fingers lazily tapping at his game as he waited.
They were supposed to grab food after this—Satoru was paying. That was the deal, as soon as Suguru finished writing.
But something was off.
Satoru had been uncharacteristically quiet all day. No sarcastic remarks. No relentless teasing, no unnecessary physical contact, no playful nudges or smug grins thrown his way just to get a rise out of him. He hadn’t even bothered messing with their classmates or cracking jokes at their expense. It was unnatural.
Suguru had only brought it up once, fearing that he already knew the answer for Satoru’s strange behavior. Satoru hadn’t given him much when he asked, further fortifying Suguru’s assumption. It had to have something to do with who he’s been talking to on the phone—the person he won’t tell Suguru about.
It took him a moment to realize it. The clicking—Satoru’s constant button-mashing—had stopped.
Suguru’s brow furrowed. He turned, glancing over his shoulder—only to freeze the second their eyes met.
Satoru wasn’t looking at his DS at all.
He was staring directly at Suguru.
That expression—soft, open in a way that was entirely foreign on Satoru’s face—was the same one he’d seen before, the one Satoru always wore when he was looking at his phone. The one that made Suguru feel like he was intruding on something private.
Only this time, it wasn’t directed at a screen. It was directed at him.
His mind blanked. His thoughts, the ones running in frantic, anxious circles all day, screeched to a halt.
Just as he was about to say something—just as he was about to confront Satoru, demand to know why he was staring at him like that—
Satoru broke the silence.
“I think I like you.”
Suguru’s world tilted on its axis.
His fingers went numb around his pen. His heart did something strange in his chest, lurching like it wasn’t sure whether to stop altogether or start beating too fast.
“Satoru. What—“
“No, actually. I know I like you.” He corrected.
Suguru’s lips parted. No words came out.
Because this—whatever this was—was the last thing he had expected.
His mind scrambled to make sense of it, to find some logical explanation, but all he could do was stare at Satoru, trying to piece together what had just been said. "Are you joking?" was all he managed.
Satoru frowned, looking almost offended. “No. Why would I joke about this?”
“But, what about—“ Suguru’s mind struggled to keep up. “Don’t you already have somebody?” He managed.
Satoru blinked. “What?”
Suguru swallowed. “Whoever you’re talking to on your phone...” His voice trailed off. He really didn’t believe it himself either.
There was a pause. Satoru just stared at him, brows drawn like he was trying to make sense of the accusation. Then, suddenly, his lips twitched—he erupted into laughter.
“You wanna know what that was about?” He asked, amusement threading through his voice.
Suguru just stared at him, waiting for an answer.
“It probably all had something to do with you,” Satoru admitted, as if that was the most obvious thing in the world.
“What? How?” Suguru’s eyebrows pulled together. “So that first time I said something about it? In your room?”
Satoru hummed, sitting upright. “You texted me before that, didn’t you?”
Suguru frowned, running through the memory. “I’m pretty sure all I sent was, ‘I’ll be there soon.’”
Satoru shrugged, like that was answer enough.
Suguru scoffed, still struggling to fathom his words. “That time on that mission?”
Satoru let out a short snort. “I was taking pictures of you, remember?”
“Satoru.” Suguru’s voice was flat. “I was covered in blood.”
“And?” A lazy grin tugged at Satoru’s lips, “You looked cool.”
Suguru opened his mouth, then closed it. He didn’t even know where to begin with that. “Then, in the gym?” He asked, voice strained.
Satoru tapped his fingers against his thigh—the action looked almost nervous. “I didn’t want to make it too obvious I was watching you.”
Suguru choked, struggling to form words. His brain felt like it had short-circuited, completely thrown by the blatant admission. “Why are you only telling me this now?”
Satoru rubbed the back of his neck, his usual confidence flickering. “I wanted to think it over first before I said something about it.”
Suguru pushed himself up from the chair. His heartbeat felt annoyingly erratic, and he didn’t know if it was from disbelief or something else entirely. “Are you done thinking, or…”
“Yes.” Satoru answered too quickly, like he had been waiting for Suguru to ask. He cleared his throat, straightening his shoulders. “Yes.” He repeated, more surely this time.
Suguru didn’t respond right away. He took a step forward, closing the space between them, doing the one thing he had wanted to do since he saw that stupidly fond expression on Satoru’s face—
He reached out, cupping the sides of Satoru’s face and tugging him closer. “Good,” he muttered, before finally closing the gap.
By the time Suguru pulled back, Satoru stared into his eyes with that stupidly fond grin on his face and Suguru wanted nothing more than to kiss him again.
. . . .
Sunlight peaked through the branches overhead. A late afternoon breeze rustled the leaves overhead, sending twirling shadows over Satoru and Shoko as they sat, waiting.
Suguru had only been gone for a minute—off to the vending machine to grab drinks for them—but that was more than enough time for Satoru to pull out his phone and send Suguru a series of texts. His screen lit up with a single reply.
Satoru knew full well he was grinning like an idiot right now. He didn’t even need to look up to know Shoko had noticed too.
“Messaging your girlfriend?” She raised an eyebrow.
Satoru hummed, not looking up from his phone. “Boyfriend, actually.”
“Huh,” She leaned back slightly, considering that. Then, after a beat, “Does Suguru know about it?”
Satoru scoffed, feigning offense, “Yeah, I would hope so.”
He turned his phone around, proudly displaying his lock screen. The photo was unmistakable—Satoru had an arm slung around Suguru, pressing an exaggerated kiss into his cheek while Suguru halfheartedly tried to swat him away. The wide grin on Suguru’s face betrayed any real annoyance.
Shoko leaned in, eyes narrowing slightly before a snort escaped her. “Nice.”
Satoru’s smile widened.