Chapter Text
Shoko Ieiri passed her midterm exams with straight A’s across the board. Big fat 100’s, marked in red atop all of her papers. Which is really a surprise to nobody considering she cheated on all of them. But apparently, it’s still cause for celebration - because truthfully, everyone just wants an excuse to drink.
Wassail, or something like that.
You can’t say you’re too keen on getting shit-faced in public on a normal day. You prefer drinking in the solace of your own apartment, where you’re not overthinking every little move you make - if you’re breathing too loud, if your upper lip looks sweaty, if the odorless deodorant you bought is actually odorless.
It’s sort of funny, because lots of people like to claim that liquor boosts their confidence. Makes them fun to be around, gives them a different personality - one that’s upbeat and lively, unrestrained by normal inhibitions.
But when you’re sitting right next to Geto fucking Suguru, the only thing that feels unrestrained is your bladder.
He’s not paying much attention to you, chuckling at something Utahime says as he nurses his drink. In fact, you think he’s glanced at you a total of two and a half times. Half, because his gaze briefly darting across your face and over to Ieiri’s doesn’t really count. But you’ll take what you can get. God his eyelashes are so long and pretty, in that sort of way that only real pretty boys can pull off-
You force yourself to take another swig.
This whole infatuation shtick wore out its welcome long ago. Months ago, to be precise. You really don’t want to be the cliche ‘shy girl’ who flusters at the mere presence of her crush, but it’s hard to deny the allegations when you can barely hold a real conversation with the guy. And you’ve known him for over a year now! Pathetic.
There's always this fierce need to defend yourself, even internally - it’s not because you’re trying to be cute, or because you’re some sort of timid mouse, it’s because Geto Suguru makes you very fucking nervous. The acute reasons as to why are a little blurred around the edges, but you’ve deduced it’s because you like him so much that the thought of embarrassing yourself around him makes you feel physically ill.
That’s probably what people call “love,” right?
Utahime says something that makes everyone laugh, but you can barely pay attention, too wrapped up in your own thoughts.
He’s as close to the epitome of perfection as anyone can get, and you know damn well you’re not the only one who thinks so. Tall, athletic, mysterious, a kind benefactor to everyone around him… in fact, he’s got sort of a cult-like following on campus. People join his community service club just because they think he’s hot. So yes, there’s numerous adoring fans of his out there. None of which are able to get very close, because he keeps his personal circle tight-knit. And fate, the kind mistress, has lent you a divine hand by allowing you to be in that circle.
But of course, in return, you’re effectively pissing on her offering. Because you cannot bring yourself to be normal around Geto. You’ve had crushes before, but none can compare to whatever the fuck this is. You’re a grown adult, so you just need to-
“God, what’s got you so moody? Thinking about Shoko’s poor future patients?”
Satoru’s sing-song voice breaks you out of your thoughts. He’s sitting on Geto’s other side, leaning forwards against the bar counter to give you a Cheshire grin, sunglasses slipping down his nose. (What kind of weirdo wears sunglasses inside of a bar, at night? Gojo Satoru, that’s who.)
Damn that bastard. Now all the attention - and the only attention that actually matters - is on you. He just seems to always have impeccable timing, doesn’t he?
Ignoring Geto’s gaze, you raise your glass and give Satoru a solemn nod. “A premature toast, to those who are definitely going to pass away.”
The group laughs in response, and the spotlight is lifted. Ieiri dramatically drapes herself over your shoulder with a sigh. “So harsh. Don'tcha remember how I used to patch you up every time you fell off your bike?” She takes another sip from her nearly emptied cup. “Your balance was seriously awful, so I think I deserve a little more respect.”
“Heyy,” Satoru complains with a pout, chin slumped against his palm. “How come you never did that for me?”
She blinks hazily. “Because you don’t deserve anything nice in this world.”
“Some friend you are.”
“Clean your own scrapes, you big baby.”
“Sure,” Satoru drawls with a pointed look. “as soon as you come up with your own exam answers. How much did those spectacular scores cost you this time?”
The back-and-forth bickering is nostalgic. And although you can hear Nanami grumbling about it from his end of the table, to you, it’s oddly comforting.
You, Ieiri, and Satoru grew up on the same street. Your parents were all best friends, which meant the three of you were pre-determined to be the same. It was never really up for debate. Cookouts, birthdays, random dinners… it was rare for you to not be hanging out with one another. And despite the forced proximity, it was still pretty fun. Sure, you fought from time-to-time, but there was nothing a competitive round of Wii Sports couldn’t smooth over.
Then, right before middle school ended, your dad had a drastic change in jobs - which meant a relocation was in order. So, your family packed up and moved.
For the first time in your life, you attended school without Ieiri and Satoru.
…Admittedly, you were really bummed about that.
Cities apart, your families visited each other less frequently. And with all three kids taking on numerous after-school activities, it was harder to tag along when your parents would hang out on the rare occasion. There’d be the odd text between you three, maybe a few get-togethers on birthdays, but life got busy. So naturally, you grew apart from them, resigned to think those good old days were long gone.
What a surprise it was when you did reunite in university. Ieiri and Satoru had heard the news of your acceptance from their parents, and took it upon themselves to induct you into their friend group from high school. Just like that, your little trio had repaired itself.
Somehow, it almost feels like you never left.
…Except for the fact that Ieiri developed quite the penchant for smoking and drinking, and Satoru… well, you’d always known him to be a notorious playboy, but he’s really managed to exceed your expectations. Between the two of them, you feel a bit like a prude. You had your first ever drink a few months ago, while they’re both capable of chugging liquor like it’s water. It seems you have some catching up to do.
Regardless, you’re happy to have them as friends again.
And, they were the ones who introduced you to Geto. Everything you could possibly want in a man - reliable, the strong-but-silent type, academically motivated… You’d be crazy not to have a crush on him.
Too bad you’ll probably never do anything about it.
Thirty minutes pass. Ieiri gets quite drunk - as per usual - to the point where Utahime makes the executive decision to wrap up her extensive tab and take her back home. Geto mentions needing to review some notes for a class, which then gives Nanami the signal to up and ditch too.
Before you know it, it’s just you and Satoru standing outside the bar, waving Nanami off as he gets into his taxi.
Well, guess that’s it. You might as well go home and get ahead on some work, or maybe just crash early. Your own midterms were no breeze, and you’d rather be extra prepared for finals…
“They’re so lame,” Satoru gripes, clearly on a different wavelength. “I’m barely even buzzed. If I have to drink, I might as well get something out of it.”
You chuckle. “Nobody was forcing you. Plus, it is a school night.”
He scrunches his nose at you, clearly disgusted with the words that have fallen from your lips. “Sometimes I forget you’re a part of the nerdy loser club.”
It’s ironic of him to say that, considering he has the highest grades out of all of you - without even trying.
Scoffing, you pull out your phone, checking to see the current rates for an Uber. You can probably just walk back home, right? “Am not. You’re just more insatiable than the average person.”
Your insult goes entirely disregarded. “No, scratch that, you’re the nerdy loser. You probably alphabetize your flashcards, or something.” He then jerks his thumb towards the street, in the general direction of his apartment. “Wanna keep drinking at my place?”
Your first instinct is to decline. It’s not a rarity for you two to share a bottle or anything, but tonight just seems impractical. You’ve got class in the morning, it’s already a bit late, and you should be keeping on top of your studies.
But he’s right - you’re barely tipsy either. And you did go through all the work of freeing up your schedule for this…
Sensing your hesitance, Satoru pounces. “C’mon,” comes his persistent negging, a long finger poking your shoulder. “It’ll be fun. Loosen up! Say it with me now: ‘let’s do it.’ Or even better, ‘school nights are for literal children.’”
…Ah, what the hell. Just another drink or two won’t hurt - plus, you know you’ll never be able to stand your ground against him. Not when he’s got his mind dead set on having some fun. Pocketing your phone, you throw your arms out in surrender. “You win. I’m down.”
He flashes you a victorious grin, already leading the way while humming a cheery tune. You struggle to keep up with his long strides, tapping him repeatedly on his back.
“Hey, hey! Like I said, it’s a school night - nothing crazy, alright?”
—--
“An’ then she told me she’d- fuck- she’d castrate me if I talked t’ another girl again.” Satoru snorts, torso hanging off the armrest of his couch. “Little does she know, they already took my foreskin.”
You’re lying under his coffee table, appreciating the way the world spins. “That’s- god, Satoru, that’s circumcision you idiot.”
A pregnant pause.
“Shit you’re right. In my defense-” he tilts his head to look at you with a lopsided smile. His sunglasses are on the verge of falling right off his face. “-and this is a secret, ok? You can’t tell anyone, shhh.”
Nodding, you wait to see what he has to say. Cupping a hand around his mouth, as though he’s about to whisper something incredibly confidential, he says at a completely normal volume:
“I’m drunk."
You both burst into peals of laughter. And it’s really not that funny, but right now, the definition of comedy has been spread transparently thin.
The large bottle of vodka lies forgotten on the counter with only a fourth of the original volume remaining, a variety of random mixers surrounding it. To be fair, it takes a lot to get Satoru drunk, and a normal amount to get you completely wasted. So the volume of alcohol you’ve consumed is totally justified.
You can already tell you’re on the verge of forgetting everything that happens tonight, and in response, attempt to ground yourself by sliding your hands over Satoru’s carpet. It doesn’t really work.
“At least you get laid,” you grumble, still stroking his carpet.
He points at you, like a pilgrim accosting a witch. “Virgin! Hah.”
Closing your eyes for a moment, you frown into the darkness that follows. “Oh, shut up. I’m just- I dunno, unlucky I guess.”
Satoru rights himself, slumping against the couch. His long legs easily allow him to nudge you with his foot, disturbing your comfortable resting place. “You’re just not trying hard enough. What, is there someone you have your sights on? C’mon, you can tell me.”
Now, your crush on Geto is a secret you usually keep well guarded - even if Ieiri and Utahime and whoever else have probably already guessed it. But that’s when you’re sober. Not when you’re blasted out of your mind, laying under Gojo Satoru’s coffee table.
“I- don’t laugh. Ok?”
He blinks, each eyelid somehow out of sync. “If it’s Naoya Zenin, I might.”
That legitimately disgusts you. He chuckles at your expression, motioning for you to sit up.
“Kidding! C’mon, get on with it.”
Crawling out from under the table, you sit on the opposite end to face him, feeling a little more centered in reality than before. It still doesn’t stop the confession from spilling past your lips.
“I think I- I like Suguru.”
It feels wildly inappropriate to even say his first name aloud. Like you’re crossing some unspoken boundary.
Satoru just stares at you, sort of smiling.
“Really?”
“Really.”
A few moments of terse silence follow, during which you start to feel incredibly self-conscious for opening up like a cooked clam. Humiliation, as it turns out, is incredibly sobering.
Then finally: "That's fair, he's hot."
You nod in rapid agreement, tension deflating. "God he's so hot."
"But I'm hotter." Of course, Satoru is incapable of giving a compliment without redirecting it back to himself.
Frowning, you hold your arms up in an 'X' formation. "Sorry. Not even close. You don't have his silky black hair. And his jawline."
He brings his hand to his chest as though he's been stabbed. "Excuse me? My jawline is perfect. You wound me." Hand falling, he grins. "So, what, want me t’ set you up with him?”
That startles you. Rapidly shaking your head - the thought of Satoru trying to wingman you into a relationship with Geto is downright terrifying - you try your best to dissuade him.
“No, no, don’t worry about it. I’d- I’d wanna do it on my own terms.”
Satoru rolls his eyes. “A little help never hurts.”
It’s the principle of it, thank you very much, but your tongue feels too heavy to say the word properly. “I know,” you finally manage to mumble, offering a noncommittal shrug.
“C’mon, just ask him. Worst he can say is no, and then if he says yes…” Satoru trails off, waggling his fingers to mimic fireworks. “Plus, even if you get rejected, Suguru isn't the type of guy t’ throw away a friendship because of something like that.”
A little frustrated, you lean against the table. Your head feels heavy. “That’s not th’ point. First, I probably couldn’t ask him out even if I tried. Second, I doubt he’s even interested. And third-” you pause to take a breath, suddenly winded. “-I’m too inexperienced.”
You’re given a strange look. “He wouldn’t care that you’re a virgin, you dumb virgin. Only idiots - on either end - give a shit ‘bout that sort of thing.”
“You were just making fun of me for it.”
He shrugs. “I was joking - it’s not the nineties. Who actually cares about virginity anymore?”
“I care,” you argue petulantly, head rolling to the side. “And it’s not just about sex, either - I’ve never dated anyone in my life. My parents were always so strict about that sorta thing, y’know? And- and he just seems so… regal? I dunno, I just think he deserves someone with experience. Someone who’s not gonna blunder their way through the entire relationship, and fuck stuff up all th’ time. He’s got his shit figured out, so I’d want to be the same.”
You’ve gone on a bit of a tangent. It probably doesn’t make much sense, but to you, the meaning is crystal clear.
“And that’s if he even liked me back.” You lean your forehead on the table. The wood feels pleasantly cold and smooth against your skin. “Which there’s no chance of right now, since I can barely talk to him one-on-one. I just- I want experience. Not only for him, but for me as well.”
Satoru seems annoyed at your willy-nilliness. “Then go out and get some,” he responds bluntly. “Problem solved.”
“It’s not that simple!” You complain, tilting your head up to pout at him. “I can’t just- just hook up with a random stranger! That’s- that’s scary."
You’re given a cheeky grin. “I do it all the time. It’s fine.”
You glare at him, a little envious of his nonchalant attitude towards it all. Yeah, no big deal - just bang a rando! So easy.
“Well, for starters, you’re a man,” you counter. “Plus, I- I want t’ take it slow. Like, starting with… y’know… kissing…” You trail off, feeling a bit flushed. It’s a little embarrassing, to admit all of this so casually. Even with such strong liquor in your system. But Satoru remains silent, waiting for you to finish, so you manage to hastily wrap up your train of thought. “...And just going on normal dates and stuff. So I- I don’t think that’d really be feasible, because that’s not a hookup, and I doubt anyone would want me to- to practice on them.”
A few beats of silence. His expression never changes, still relaxed as ever. You’re not sure what his next piece of advice will be, if he even has advice left to give - it’s always hard to tell what he’ll say next.
“Then just practice on me.”
…Wow. Out of all the responses you could’ve guessed he’d give, that was not on the list. It wasn’t even remotely close to being on the list. It was fucking orbiting outside of your comprehension, millions of lightyears away. Blinking, you can’t help but laugh a bit awkwardly. He’s messing with you, right?
“So, I’m not sure if my rant about being madly obsessed with Geto made it clear, but I don’t like you in that way.”
He scoffs, hands folded behind his head as he settles back against the couch. “You think I’m interested in you? So egotistical. I’m offering to help out a friend. T’ show you the ropes, out of the kindness of my heart.”
In your judgment-impaired state, you can’t help but giggle - albeit incredulously. “Do friends normally make offers like this?”
Satoru gives you a shit-eating grin. “No - because I’m better than most friends. Plus, we’ve known each other…” He makes a show of counting on his fingers. “...forever. It shouldn’t be awkward.”
You give him a pointed look. “I think that makes it more awkward.”
“I watched you piss your pants in - fuck, when was it?” His thoughts are quickly derailing. “Oh yeah, middle school. Math class, second period-”
“Shut up!” You groan, tossing a stray pillow at his head. It hits him in the face, because he’s not really paying much attention to anything but himself. “And let’s be honest here - that wasn’t nearly as bad as the time I walked in on you jerking it to-”
The very same pillow smacks you square in the jaw, cutting your anecdote short.
“See?” Satoru half-laughs, poised to strike again if need-be. “We’ve seen each other at our worst. It’s not like kissing will change that.”
You purse your lips. “It might.”
He makes a face, like he’s sucked the juice right out of a lemon. “Don’t jinx it, dimwit. Th’ more you worry about it, the worse it’ll be.”
Well, his logic doesn’t seem too flawed.
“But reallyyyy,” Satoru slurs, leaning forwards with his elbows perched on his knees. “Experience, no experience… I don’t think Geto will care either way.”
Groaning, you shake your head. “Like I said, ‘s not just because of him. I just wanna, y’know, test the waters before I dive into anything serious.”
“That’s why I’m offering. Better me than some random scumbag, right?”
Eyes rolled skywards, you huff a laugh. “Yeah, I guess I’ll take the familiar scumbag over the random one.”
“I’ll rescind my generous offer in three seconds,” he informs you with a smirk. “Take it, while supplies last.”
You’re drunk. That’s the only excuse you can cling to. The only way to justify giving him a half-hearted nod of your head.
“Fine, fine,” you relent, trying to act more nonchalant about it than you really are.
You’re greeted by a cocky smirk. “See? Not so hard. Now hop on up here.”
Wait, he wants to practice right now? Your mouth goes a little dry. You haven’t had the time to mentally prepare for something like this, and well, you’re not exactly in a clear state of mind.
…But if you don’t do it drunk, you might never do it at all.
You push yourself to your feet on wobbly knees. How does he always manage to drag you into such crazy situations? Wild and careless, that’s what he is. Far too spontaneous for anyone’s good.
“Just- y’know, no strings attached,” you warble. “Got it?”
Satoru pats the empty space next to him, sunglasses slipping down his nose. “C’mon - with me, there’s never any strings attached. You should know that by now.”
That much is true. Gojo Satoru is anything but committed. Flopping down next to him on the couch, you awkwardly await his next move. Because hell if you know how any of this is supposed to work, sober or not.
“You said you wanted to practice kissing, yeah?”
You nod, starting to feel more self-conscious with every passing second. He inches closer on the couch, still grinning like a dope, and you’re already regretting your decision. Then, with barely any forewarning, he leans in and presses his lips against yours.
Your eyes screw shut automatically, mostly to avoid seeing that strange zoomed-in cyclops-esque perspective of Satoru’s face. This is it! Your first kiss. You’re being kissed! Wow, it’s…
…Damn. That’s it? You’re a little flustered at the close proximity, sure, but there’s no fireworks going off in your brain. In fact, this is doing absolutely nothing for you. You’re aware of the sensation of his mouth against yours, moving a bit, but it’s just weird. Dare you say unpleasant. Are you supposed to be doing something? Is it supposed to be like this?
Satoru pulls away, already laughing. “You’re stiff as a fucking corpse! You good?”
Unable to mask your disappointment and embarrassment, you lean sideways into the plush cushions of the couch, idly picking at a wayward thread. “Yeah, sorry. I guess I was just expecting it to be more… y’know, awe-inspiring?” You cringe, thinking about all the ways kisses have been described to you in the past. Or how they’re typically portrayed in books or on TV. That certainly didn’t fit the bill. Is it because you’re intoxicated?
“And,” you continue, expression sour. “It doesn’t help that I’ve got no clue what I’m doing.”
“You gotta relax,” Satoru chides, already getting up so he can stride over to the kitchen counter. The once-forgotten bottle of Smirnoff is subsequently placed in front of you.
You give him a faux look of disgust. “Trying to get me drunker? Creep.”
He fakes a gag. “Disgusting. Do I look like Naoya? I’m just saying, if you want to continue, and you want to take the edge off… well, we’ve got just th’ stuff.”
What the hell. You’ve already come this far. Shots aren’t typically your style, but a mixed drink will take too long to set in. And right now, you need that extra confidence to hit hard, and to hit fast. So you let him pour you one, steel your esophagus, and down the shot.
You always forget just how disgusting vodka is on its own, right up until the next time you take a gulp of it. Shuddering, you force yourself to swallow, already close to hacking up a lung. Satoru pats you on the shoulder with a stifled chuckle.
“Breathing?”
“Barely,” You rasp, already reaching for your discarded mixed drink from earlier. Two hearty swigs later, and all feels right in the world again.
Sort of. There’s still that kissing issue to attend to.
You’re sufficiently buzzier - is that even a word? More buzzed, maybe? Hell, you were already pretty drunk before - so this time, there’s less anxiety when Satoru reclaims his position on the couch beside you. It’s still present, but lingers closer to the back of your mind now rather than the forefront.
“Just making sure,” he says slowly, as if testing your comprehension. “Are you still ok with this? Scratch that, are you still present?”
You push playfully at his shoulder, arm feeling heavy. “Pshh, one shot won’t wipe me out, asshole. What do you think I am, a paperweight?”
“I think you mean ‘feather-weight.‘ And considering the fact that you sit at your desk for eighty percent of the day, yes.”
“That was hysterical,” you deadpan. “You’re really not that funny, you know that?”
And then he’s up in your space again, all pearly white teeth. You can’t help but fluster, heart beating a little faster than before. “Maybe not,” he murmurs. “but I am a good kisser.”
“...I beg to disagree,” you mutter, already starting to falter. Where should you be looking? His eyes? His lips? The wall behind him?
His hand slides under your jaw, tilting your face upwards. Now you’re forced to look him in the eyes, and it’s a little more intense than you’d hoped it would be. Your skin feels hot beneath his fingers. “Nuh uh,” he tuts. “Not my fault. You just weren’t feeling it yet. C’mon, close your eyes.”
Obliging, you instinctively tense as if bracing for some sort of dreadful impact. But the tightness in your body melts away with each stroke of his thumb against your cheek - like he’s soothing a frightened cat.
“Relax,” he murmurs, so close you can feel his warm breath against your lips. Something weird flips inside of your chest.
When he presses them against yours again, there still aren’t any sparks. No grand orchestra that swells to a crescendo. But it’s certainly nicer than before - languid and slow. A warm, rather pleasant experience, but certainly nothing to gush about. Maybe you’re just not cut out for-
Satoru suddenly coaxes your mouth open with his own, pulling you closer against him. He swallows your gasp, sliding his tongue between your lips, an appreciative hum sounding from the back of his throat. You immediately jerk away at the sensation, much to his amusement.
“What’s up?” He waggles his eyebrows in a rather exaggerated manner. “You likey? Didn’t it feel-”
“Gross,” you finish for him, nose scrunched.
“To each their own.” He leans closer again. “Wanna continue? I’ll keep my magical tongue away if you so desire.”
“Magical?” You echo dumbly.
He makes a v with his fingers, and starts to flick said tongue between them. Sputtering, you shove at him with a choked laugh. “Ew! I get it! No need to demonstrate.”
“So then?”
Folding your arms, you challenge him with a haughty smirk that you don’t quite feel. Truthfully, your ego wouldn’t be able to stand chickening out right now, not after you’ve come so far. “Fine. I’ll allow your so-called magical tongue, in the name of research.”
That’s all it takes for him to drag you back in by your waist, with a hint of aggressiveness that you decidedly don’t hate.
This time, you’re prepared when he kisses you again. Which also means you’re able to be hyper aware of every sensation that flutters through your body and mind.
The sounds, for starters, are quickly growing obscene - wet, and punctuated with quiet huffs from both ends. Then there’s the foreign feeling of his tongue against yours again. Thankfully, it doesn’t linger like you feared it would. He lets you set the pace this time, only pushing inside when you part your lips to give him access every so often. And as the seconds tick by, you’re actually starting to enjoy the weird sensation. It’s… erotic? He tastes like a mixture of alcohol and mint, and for some reason, you’re craving more.
“Relax a bit more,” he instructs gently, pulling away for a moment. "Don't tense up your lips." You nod.
“Right. Sorry.”
You’re pulled towards him again. Humming against your mouth, Satoru shifts to position himself closer, hands gently kneading your waist. Your own rest tentatively on his shoulders, and you’ve suddenly got the inexplicable urge to slide them up his neck. His mouth is hot and sweet against yours, and it’s creating a strange fog that starts to cloud your mind, threatening to overtake your senses entirely.
All in all, the whole recipe is quickly building a familiar and tingling heat down in your lower abdomen - at an alarmingly rapid pace.
“Doing ok?” Satoru asks quietly, pulling back just enough so his lips still linger against yours.
You nod dazedly, head spinning. Taking a moment to catch your breath, you simultaneously will the wetness between your legs to dispel.
…Perhaps now is a good time to stop. “I- I think that’s enough for tonight,” you huff, looking everywhere but his face.
God. Physical contact really is a powerful thing, if it’s able to temporarily override your platonic perception of Satoru. Truth be told, you’re a little mortified over how much that riled you up.
Speaking of said devil, he looks awfully proud of himself.
“I want an apology, and a declaration that I am a good kisser.”
You bat your eyelashes at him, reaching into your pocket to grab your phone. “You will get neither. If I inflate that ego of yours any more, you’ll pop.”
He’s still grinning, way too caught up in being proven right. “Yeah, yeah. That blissed-out expression on your face told me everything I needed to know.”
“Shuddup,” you dismiss him, already tapping away at your phone screen with sluggish fingers. “It’s late, I’m drunk, and I’m getting an Uber. I don’t wanna hang around to hear any more of your gloating.”
The both of you lounge about in silence until your ride is about to round the corner. Satoru walks you out - mostly because you’re feeling a little too wobbly to go on your own - standing next to you on the sidewalk.
“The offer still stands,” he suddenly says, staring straight ahead. “If you wanna continue in the future. Not for any weird reason, y’know, but… I’m down to help with the whole Geto thing.”
You give him a suspicious glance. “Why?”
He shrugs. “Because then my two best friends will be dating, and I dunno - that seems pretty cool.”
“...I’ll let you know.”
The thing is, you’d probably tell him ‘absolutely’ if you let yourself. Because that whole experience was enjoyable, and you certainly feel a little more confident in the whole ‘kissing’ thing than before. But then again, it could just be the liquor talking. For both of you. Who’s to say you won’t feel crushing regret in the morning? That he won’t?
Best to wait it out.
You get in the Uber and wave goodbye to Satoru, like you normally do. Like you didn’t just make out with him in his apartment.
“Get home safe,” he mouths, and you can’t help but stare at his lips the entire time.
…You definitely need to wait it out.