Chapter Text
Satoru tilts his head down, slides two fingers under the glasses and rubs his eye. He’s been doing it all day. The heat isn’t letting him sleep, it’s what he says.
Suguru unsticks his shirt from his chest and keeps his gaze on the gravel under his feet, the pine trees surrounding the path. Eyes out for the next curse; because there’s another one for sure, and another one after that. These woods are infested and he can taste it in the back of his throat.
He drinks from his water bottle, it doesn’t really help. The curses always linger on his mouth, and he’s swallowed four just today, another eight the day before, ten on the day they got here… The grade two from yesterday is still making his stomach churn. The acid and the sweetness mixing in his tongue, pungent like a sewer. The heat isn’t helping.
Another sip of water.
Satoru stops, pushes his glasses up.
“Incoming.”
The curse is shaped like a monkey. It comes swinging from the tops of trees, throwing shit down at them. Curse poop, whatever. It’s sticky and runny and the heat makes the sickly sweet stench even stronger.
They dodge the poopy-missiles and they hit the monkey and they win. The thing can’t be higher than a grade three, it’s an easy fight.
When it is done, Suguru kneels on the trail, stares at the black ball in his hand. He swallows down nausea. Satoru is right behind him, he can’t just embarrass himself like this. Hesitating to use his technique. They’re the strongest, there’s no room for this.
Suguru holds his breath, takes it to his lips and tries to swallow as fast as he can. It tastes like the shit smelled, and it is cold, and it goes down his throat like dry mashed potato. He grasps at his throat, eyes tightly shut.
Something bumps against his shoulder, a water bottle. He glances up at Satoru, who’s very pointedly looking away. This is humiliating.
“Thanks.” Suguru chokes out, then gulps down more water.
That stupid cold ball slowly slides down his throat and the taste… Literal feces, all over his mouth. Mixed with everything else… Yup, he’s going to—
Suguru catches himself on his hands. He heaves and gags as his lungs spasm. The plastic bottle gets squished under his palm. Bile and water splatter down onto the gravel. His arms are shaking and tears are running down his cheeks.
The sound of shuffling, and those familiar blue eyes enter his field of vision. Satoru kneels by his side, head tilted, a question on his face. Of course Satoru had to be here, for fuck’s sake, of course…
“You alright?”
Suguru keeps his eyes down, tries to hide his face behind his hair.
“Peachy.” He says, then coughs.
They sit there until Suguru catches his breath. Until he stops gagging. He expected teasing, banter, but Satoru just sits there. Knees hugged to his chest, those gangly limbs folded impossibly small. He throws his head back, humming a song.
Suguru follows his gaze, up to the tops of the trees. The sun filters through the leaves and makes a long beam of warm light. It’s pretty. Suguru wishes his mouth didn’t taste like shit right now.
“This happens a lot?” Satoru asks.
Suguru shrugs, legs crossed under him.
“If I consume too many, yeah.” He says, then quickly adds. "But it’s not often!”
Satoru smiles at him, bumps his shoulder.
“Ah, Suguru, are you embarrassed? What’s some puke between friends?”
Suguru pushes him away, turns his head to the woods.
“Shut up. You don’t know what it’s like.”
Satoru doesn’t get it, no one does. No one should know how gross this is. Maybe if they knew, they’d find him gross too. It certainly feels like it. He wants to go home and rub his skin raw until it feels clean again.
“You know, my six eyes are killing me too.” Satoru says, out of the blue.
Suguru raises an eyebrow. Killing him? Since when do they do that?
Satoru is rubbing his face; his eyes, his forehead. There’s an openness to it, a tiredness. An embarrassed smile on his lips and a tentative look in his eyes. He’s telling the truth.
"Let’s just call it a day, shall we?” Satoru says.
Suguru shakes his head.
“We have orders to—“
Suddenly there are hands under his arms, lifting him up. Suguru is so surprised that he lets them.
“Yeah, yeah, clear the woods." Satoru holds his shoulders, looks him in the eye with a smirk and whispers: "We’re not gonna. Not ever, it would take like a hundred years.” He grimaces, fixes the glasses again. “Look, there’s like a million fucking things buzzing in my ears right now and it’s giving me a headache. I want to lie down, don’t you?”
Satoru stares at him, like he’s waiting for a reaction.
Suguru’s mouth drops open. Partly because everything is spinning and partly because… What? Where’s all this coming from? In the year they’ve known each other, Satoru has never shown any type of weakness.
“A headache? Since when do you get headaches?”
Satoru lets go of him. Steps back, towards the way they came. He’s really going to break direct orders and end the day early?
“Don't tell anyone, alright? I’m only telling you so you don’t feel too special.” Satoru glances at him from over his glasses. You coming?
Suguru stands there, frowning.
“Yaga—“ He starts.
“He’ll only find out if you tell him.” Satoru quips back, pouting. This flippancy of his, it used to drive Suguru insane. Took him months to figure out it was envy. Envy that he couldn’t afford to be like that. But maybe he can, right? They’re the strongest, both of them.
It’s a split second decision.
Suguru sighs, jogs up to him. His heart is racing. This is like skipping class, and he never skips class. He stares at Satoru, rubbing at his forehead with no shame, and he smiles.
“Am I the only one to know that Satoru Gojo has a weakness? Other than the huge ego, of course.”
“Oh, my ego is perfectly proportional to my—”
“Ha!”
“Ow, don’t yell.” Satoru whines, eyes pressed closed.
Suguru blinks. This is so weird.
“Sorry.” He blurts out.
There’s a strange feeling in his chest that he can’t quite name. Warm and fuzzy… Excitement? No… Maybe it’s nausea again. Yeah, it’s probably that.
They get back to the cabin in the middle of the afternoon. When the sun is still shining and the lack of birds is more jarring. The curses up in this mountain have a way of scaring everything away, of making the woods unusually quiet.
It’s just the two of them, the old wooden boards cracking under their feet and the wind rustling the trees. It’s cooler up here than in the trail.
The place is small; two bedrooms, one bathroom and a tiny living room that doubles as a kitchen. There’s a rusty generator to heat water and that’s about it on the tech side. No internet, no reception. It smells like mold and old pine.
Suguru goes straight into the shower. He scrubs his skin and gargles as much mouthwash as it takes to get the foul taste of curses and vomit out of his tongue. There’s this apprehension boiling in his gut…
Satoru is talking about going to a waterfall nearby, but Suguru should go back to the trail, hunt more curses.
This is stupid, this calling the day early thing. What was he thinking? They are not the same. Suguru is the son of a teacher and a priest, he can’t be flippant like Satoru, can't break the rules like him. Can’t just walk out of a mission because he’s tired. Satoru has a clan, and a reputation. If Suguru fucks this up, he has nothing.
He’s going back outside to finish the work.
When they were being given this mission, Suguru had to hide his excitement. A cabin in the mountains for two weeks with his friend? That’s a free vacation, isn’t it? Yeah, he’s supposed to be consuming a dozen of curses a day, but… His parents could never afford to take him anywhere, much less a private cabin in the woods in the summer.
Satoru seemed almost annoyed at the idea. Tipping the chair back with his arms crossed in Yaga’s office. Clearly not paying attention. He must have been to much nicer places than this. Suguru made sure to keep his face disinterested too.
He gets out of the shower with a towel wrapped around his hips. He’ll stay in the house for a bit, then he’ll say he’s bored and head out. Yeah, Satoru will buy it. And if he decides to come with, then great.
The door to Satoru’s room is ajar. That’s odd, he even sleeps with it open, the weirdo. Suguru gives it a quick knock.
“Shower's free.”
No answer.
“Satoru?”
He peeks inside and finds that the room is dark, the curtains are closed and a head of white hair is buried under a blanket. Satoru has his back to the door, but Suguru can still see the knotted fabric at the back of his head. Did he tie something around his eyes? And there are these clunky black headphones around his ears, he’s never seen those before.
Suguru leans back, and leaves the door as he found it. He just pried into something he was not meant to see, didn’t he?
He goes to his room to get dressed.
He supposes he never gave it much thought, Satoru’s technique. Suguru might not have known who he was when they met — which pissed Satoru off — but he’s well aware of it now. His classmate is Satoru Gojo, holder of two of the most powerful gifts there are. A once in a millennium wonder. Destined to greatness from birth. Untouchable.
…And he takes naps with his senses dulled because his technique gives him headaches.
That’s why he wears glasses all the time, isn’t it? How did Suguru never notice? Now that he thinks about it, he recalls a few times, after long missions… Satoru shoving his face into the seat of a car. Going quiet, sleeping with a hoodie over his face. Flinching at loud noises, at swarms of curses. He hides it so well with his theatrics, no one takes it seriously when he’s moaning and groaning.
Well, Suguru supposes that he hides his thing well too. Up until this trip, at least. How he loses his appetite, how some smells make him nauseous, how sometimes the curses get the best of him. His mom only found out when he passed out that one time.
Suguru isn’t leaving the cabin. If Satoru is feeling off, then he should stick around just in case. That’s what friends do, right?
Suguru sits outside, by the steps, and he reads his book about sorcerer history. This one is not course work, he already finished those. Everyone around him already knows all this stuff, so he should too.
He hasn’t eaten since morning, he should probably force himself to swallow something… Just the idea of putting something in his mouth makes him want to puke his guts out again. Maybe later— Definitely later. It would be mortifying to pass out around Satoru.
After a couple of hours, Suguru goes to check on him, and finds Satoru sleeping in the exact same position.
Suguru tiptoes into the room, and sees that he is hugging a pillow; body wrapped around it and face buried so hard into the fabric that he should not be able to breathe. But his chest moves up and down, slowly. White hair fanning over the pillow, over his face, contrasting with the dark headphones and the fabric over his eyes.
He looks cute like this.
Suguru stands there, staring, feeling warmth shoot up to the tips of his ears. Cute? Well, now that’s an absurd thing to think. It’s true though. Alright, he’s definitely overstepping.
The sun is setting behind the trees when Suguru hears Satoru stumbling around the house. Yawning and groaning.
He stands behind Suguru, leaning on the doorframe. Suguru glances up at him, at the white hair pointing in all directions and the cheek creased red from the pillow. The headphones are gone, the blindfold too.
“Shit, I overslept." Satoru yawns, rubbing his eyes. ”Why didn’t you wake me up?”
Suguru shrugs, stares at his book.
“Is your head better?”
Satoru plops down by his side with a huffed laugh, props himself back on his elbows.
“Kinda, yeah.” He breathes out, eyes up to the ceiling. “I hate these stupid fucking woods. It’s so… loud.”
Suguru frowns. It’s dead silent, there’s not even crickets, there’s barely wind.
"Can’t wait to go back to the school…” Satoru puffs out air, then sits up like someone just shocked his ass. He grabs Suguru by the shoulders.
“Hey, Suguru, cheer up, will you? Let’s see if Shoko sent something!”
Satoru shakes him, and it pries a smile from Suguru.
“You're the one moping around, not me.”
Satoru widens his eyes in feigned offense.
“No, I’m not! You’re seeing things! Wait, are you still sick?” He asks, all up in Suguru's face like he does. Blue eyes serious and searching.
He inches even closer and his eyelashes are as white as his hair, reflecting light so prettily. The warmth of Satoru's breath on his face— Wait, what did he just say? By the smirk on his lips it was mean.
Suguru smirks back, pushes his face away; Satoru grabs his arm, tries to bend it back. Suguru shoves his shoulder and then they’re tumbling down the steps, laughing. Satoru’s lungs vibrate under him, strong hands pushing and pulling him as he pushes and pulls back. He’s sleep-warm and he smells like moldy sheets and expensive shampoo.
Suguru doesn’t see why he hates these woods so much. It’s nice here.
They walk up the trail guided by the lights of their phones. At the clearing on the top of the hill, overlooking the mountains, someone put one of those old concrete benches. It’s the only place that has reception. The view is nice too.
The sky up here in the mountains is a dazzling thing, every night is unlike anything Suguru’s ever seen back home. The horizon is dark and the stars shine like clouds of light in the sky.
Satoru seems completely unfazed. He lies on the bench, head almost touching Suguru’s leg, eyes illuminated by the screen shining on his face. He giggles at the phone.
“Yikes, that’s so gross! Did you see, Suguru?”
Shoko’s excursion is to a sorcerer hospital. She sent a bunch of pictures of cursed ailments, including one where there’s slugs coming out of someone’s arm. She must be breaking some rule by showing them those things. Surely patient confidentiality is also a thing for sorcerers. …Right? Suguru will have to look it up.
They grimace and laugh at Shoko’s gory tales. A senior student caught something and had to be sent home, so now she has double the work. Tomorrow she’ll see cursed surgery for the first time. Sounds like she’s having fun.
They send back pictures of the trail and the piles of pinecones and a stream they found the other day… She tells them to enjoy the honeymoon.
Suguru huffs a laugh. He starts typing something about how they’re actually doing a lot of work, and there’s a lot of curses, and they are just not taking pictures in battle— Satoru beats him to it.
Satoru ‘Were going swimming tmr, you jealous?’
Suguru frowns.
“We are?”
Satoru glances up at him, shrugs.
“Why not?”
Because they are on a mission and have orders?
Suguru’s phone vibrates in his hand.
Shoko ’im dying they’re sending a teacher w u next time for sure’
Suguru smiles.
Suguru ‘It sounds like you are jealous.’
Shoko ’ur projecting rn’
Satoru ’Yup tahts jealousy’
Shoko ‘im going to sleep bye’
Shoko ‘bc im actually busy and working’
Satoru ‘BYE SHOKOOOO!!! WE LOVE YOUUUU!!! DONT GET CURSED’
Shoko ’u too!!! and take more pics!!!!!’
Suguru ’We will. Bye.’
Satoru drops his phone to his chest, rubs his eye. He looks tired. Is that why he wants to go swimming tomorrow, because his eyes are still bothering him?
Satoru catches him looking and smiles.
“What?”
Suguru looks away.
“Nothing.”
They land on a compromise: They wake up with the sun, go hunting in the morning, and if they catch at least six curses, they can go check this waterfall that Satoru keeps talking about. In the afternoon, not before.
It’s like the curses know about their plans, and decide to punish them for it.
They step into the main trail and they’re instantly surrounded. Five or six lower grades, with a grade two or maybe even one leading the pack.
It is a nasty thing; a caterpillar the size of a bear, with hundreds of human arms as paws and this beady eyed insect head. The lower curses ride on its back like pups, then disperse around the two of them for battle. The little curses have wings and buzz like mosquitoes around their heads.
“Big one first?” Suguru suggests.
Satoru gives him a quick nod. He’s grimacing under the glasses, Suguru would have missed it before, but he doesn’t miss it now. They should end this quickly.
Suguru extends a hand in front of him, feels the cursed energy climb down his arm. Stinging his insides like pinpricks. It pours out of his palm like oil. It's one of his most powerful curses; this black slime that engulfs and burns everything it touches.
Suguru coils his arm back, throws it at the caterpillar— He misses. The slime hits a tree with a loud hiss. The hiss of fire. Shit, that thing is flammable and they’re in the woods.
He glances at Satoru, expecting to be teased. Satoru has his hands in front of him like he’s about to use his technique, but he’s not moving.
A loud crack, and another. The tree tilts to the side, branches swinging high up in the air— It catches a second tree. Shit. He didn’t think this through.
The slime jumps on top of the caterpillar and the winged little things swarm around it. Everything above them is swaying, and the dry bark around the tree is on fire. They have to get away from here. Now.
“Satoru—“
Satoru doesn’t move, just stares at the curses fighting, wide eyed.
Suguru pulls at his sleeve— He is not really touching Satoru, there’s no warmth under his fingers, just a barrier. Limitless is up. Shit, shit, shit…
He gets in front of his face.
“Satoru!”
Satoru flinches back, eyes darting around wildly. At the trees, at the curses, at the fire, at the woods, at the blackened arms of the curses…
“There's more coming.” He mumbles, voice empty and distant.
Two other caterpillars barge from behind trees, their own swarms of loud mosquitoes following. They tear the slime apart with fingers that cut like claws and burn like flesh. The smell of burning meat fills the air and Suguru is horrified at how much it smells like barbecue.
He can’t throw up now.
Satoru is mumbling something under his breath, but the buzzing of the curses drowns out the words.
One of those insect heads turns towards them—
Suguru summons a big curse as a shield, and Satoru shoots a ball of blue at the same time. It goes right through Suguru's curse and it blows up with a sickening squelch. Dark gunk rains over them. Cold and stinky.
The light hits the caterpillar next, right in the middle of its ugly beady eyes. It throws the flailing hands into the pile of curses— A crack, and a rush of wind… The pine tree falls on top of the mess, already ablaze.
Something explodes and Suguru flinches. The slime just died, and it ignites the fire even more. The winged curses shriek and try to escape, but burned human arms pull them back to the fire.
It ends quickly. The log keeps the curses in place and the fire makes them pop like balloons, one by one.
Pop!
Suguru stands there, watching, breathing hard. He is covered in gunk and his mouth smells of iron and bitterness and curse. No throwing up. No fucking throwing up.
Pop!
He glances at Satoru, and there’s no one by his side— He looks down. Satoru is knelt into a ball, face tucked into his knees and arms around his head. White hair tinted dark by the guts of Suguru’s curse. Mumbling to himself.
“I'm snapping out of it. I promise. I just need— I— I’m fine. Just a minute. It won’t happen again. Just a minute.”
Another pop and Satoru flinches.
The cursed energy is still there, sizzling and seeping into the gravel. Suguru could still gather it and consume it. He should.
He kneels by his friend's side instead, puts an arm around his back. His fingers only touch air. Satoru doesn’t react at all.
Suguru glances up at the trees, still swinging over their heads…
“Hey, Satoru…” What should he even say? And if another tree falls, Satoru is already protected anyway. Suguru leaves him alone.
He steps away, summons a curse and watches it put out the fire. It’s a doll head that spits out water. One of the first curses he ever consumed, back at home. He found it near a river. It tasted like moss.
When the last flame dies, Suguru calls the curse to him, lets it pour cold water over his head. He closes his eyes as the gunk slides off his face, his clothes.
The trail is dead silent again, the only sound is Satoru’s loud, deep breaths. He's still curled into a ball. Suguru waves the curse away, wipes the water from his brows.
“Satoru. Are you ok?”
Suguru doesn’t expect an answer, so he’s surprised when Satoru nods.
“Just a minute.” He mumbles against his knees.
Suguru sits by his side with a sigh. The log is charred and blocking the road. He lost two curses instead of consuming more. And Satoru… Still mumbling under his breath. How did this go to shit so fast?
Suguru can’t believe what he’s about to say.
“You know, I passed out after consuming a curse, once. Not right after, it was a couple days later." Suguru purses his lips, pushes the words out. "The taste on my mouth was unbearable and I was so nauseous… I couldn’t get myself to eat anything. So I passed out. My mom had to take me to the hospital and everything.” He got the beating of his life that day.
A blue eye peeks from behind Satoru’s arm, half hidden behind a lock of white hair.
“Really?”
Suguru shrugs.
“Yeah, just letting you know so you don’t feel too special about this.”
“Right.” Satoru buries his face on his knees again, huffs a laugh. “Passing out is embarrassing, I’m not going to pass out.”
Suguru wraps an arm around his back again, and this time he can feel the clamminess of Satoru’s shirt, the way he winces just a bit, then leans into the touch.
“You're such an asshole.” Suguru says, lighthearted.
“You love it.”
Maybe a little.
Satoru doesn’t admit it, but he is very much out of it. It's scary to watch, how he gets up and starts cracking jokes with bloodshot eyes and drying tear tracks on his face. He confidently walks the wrong way, and Suguru puts a hand on the small of his back, guiding back to the cabin.
“Why are you soaking wet?” Satoru laughs. “Wait, hold still. I’m going to take a picture and send it to Shoko.”
The laugh doesn’t sound quite right, and the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Suguru threatens to take a pic and send it to her too and Satoru goes quiet, eyes watching his steps.
From this close it’s impossible to miss the little winces, Satoru's aborted movements to cover his ears that he disguises by scratching his nose.
That day, after Suguru passed out, all he wanted to do was curl into a ball and cry, but he made sure to sit upright and hold conversation around his mom. He held together until he was under the covers in his room. He glances at Satoru, with that strange little smile on his face. He gets it.
Suguru opens the front door and Satoru beelines to his room. Still covered in muddy curse gunk.
“Don't you want to get washed first?” Suguru asks, voice low.
Satoru stops, taps his palm on the doorway.
“Right, yeah." He nods, head down and this strange smile on his face. ”Of course.”
Suguru closes the front door slowly, careful not to let it slam. The soft sound of a faucet running comes from the bathroom, cabinets being opened.
He grimaces at himself. Does Satoru think that he was an asshole for saying all that? Like he was trying to make it about himself? Suguru didn’t even offer to have the curse throw some water over him too… Well, the mossy water is gross so that was probably—
Something shatters. Suguru runs.
The bathroom is dark, the light is off. Suguru’s hand hovers over the switch… He doesn’t press it.
Satoru has a hand on the sink and his eyes are staring blankly down at the shards of the ceramic soap dispenser. He took his shirt off. His hair is slicked back and beading water down his back, his arms. He cleaned himself. Mostly. His face doesn’t look right, it’s too empty.
“Satoru?” Suguru calls, careful.
Satoru flinches back, shakes his head. His face lights up and it’s like a toy with dying batteries trying to keep working.
“Damn, I’m so clumsy. I don’t know what hm… What’s going on with me today.” He laughs, leaning down to pick up the glass. His hands are shaking.
Suguru puts his hands on Satoru's shoulders. A lock of white hair escapes the others, it sits on Satoru’s forehead, dripping water down his face. Suguru makes a conscious effort not to brush it back.
“C’mon, sit on the toilet.” He murmurs.
“The broken—”
Suguru shakes his head.
“I'll get it. Just sit.”
Satoru squints, chuckles. He keeps his eyes down, looking anywhere but at Suguru.
“…Alright?”
Suguru goes to Satoru’s room. The window is open and the sheets are tangled on his bed. By the foot of it, an open suitcase. Just as messy. The headphones and the blindfold are nowhere to be seen.
He looks under the shirt thrown over the nightstand, under the pillow… Should he look in the suitcase? Well, it’s open, right? He finds painkillers tucked inside rolled up socks and throws them in his pocket.
Suguru stands in the middle of the room, arms crossed. Where could it be…? The painkillers were hidden, the other stuff must be too.
He shoves his hand under the mattress and his fingers touch plastic. He pulls out the headphones and the blindfold is wrapped around it.
Satoru blanches at the sight of those things in his hand. Head low, but eyes so wide and face so pale that it looks like he might actually pass out. He looks mortified, and Suguru is suddenly mortified too.
He stops in the middle of the bathroom.
“Look, I didn’t mean to go through your stuff, but… but I—”
Satoru doesn’t meet his eyes, doesn’t open his mouth. He extends a hand, and Suguru gives him his things. Satoru leans forward, begins tying the blindfold around his eyes with shaky fingers. Should Suguru help?
He imagines himself leaning over Satoru, putting his hands over those shaky fingers, tenderly guiding the fabric… He doesn’t move.
It all looks so out of place. The dark bathroom. The goosebumps on Satoru’s shoulders, the water soaking the waistband of his pants. The strange way that he’s breathing. This is Satoru. It doesn’t feel like something anyone should see.
Suguru goes to the kitchen. Fills a glass of water, turns the blister pack in his hand. He didn’t even know they made painkillers with dosages this high.
Satoru is sitting with his head propped in his hands; eyes covered and headphones sitting on top of wet hair.
Suguru kneels in front of him, wraps a hand around his wrist, tentatively. There is no resistance. Satoru just lets him turn his palm up, put a pill in one hand, the cup of water in the other.
“Is one pill enough?” Suguru asks.
Satoru closes his fingers around the pill, rests the cup on his lap. Can he even hear anything through these headphones?
“Why are you being so nice to me?” Satoru’s voice is low as a whisper, guarded. It barely sounds like him.
Suguru huffs an awkward laugh.
"Why wouldn’t I be nice to you?”
Satoru tilts his head down, gives a half shrug.
"I fucked up."
“So you want me to beat you up or something?”
The corners of Satoru’s mouth tilt up, just a little. Looks real this time.
“One pill is enough.” He takes the painkiller to his mouth, then the water.
Suguru lays a towel over his friend’s naked back and tries to take him to his room. Satoru halts on the bathroom door, tilts his chin to the couch. He mumbles something about not wanting to get gunk all over the bed. Sounds like a lie. Suguru doesn’t press.
They end up on the couch, with all the windows closed and all the lights off. Suguru was going to go to his room, give Satoru some privacy, but a hand pulled the sleeve of his shirt, so he sat down. Squished on the corner with that white head laid by his lap. It’s almost touching his leg, almost.
It’s a small couch. Satoru is under a blanket, but it doesn’t quite hide the awkward position his legs are folded in. It can’t be comfortable. Laying on his back, with those headphones around his head and no pillow.
Suguru reaches to the side, fishes one from the floor and rests it on his lap.
“Satoru?” What he means is for Satoru to lift his head, so Suguru can put the pillow under it. What Satoru understands…
He scoots closer, lays his head on top of the pillow, on Suguru’s lap. He tries to tilt his head to the side, towards Suguru’s stomach, but the headphones don’t let him. His head is heavy, and warm, and the wet hair is already dampening the pillow. In the dark, it’s like the white locks glow.
Suguru is staring again, he should stop doing that. And he should start breathing again.
His eyes trail down Satoru’s neck. The blanket slid down when he moved, it’s showing his shoulders, his chest. The teachers have been riding on his back to get him take physical exercise seriously. It’s working. There’s the outline of his biceps, and more muscle around his collarbone…
The arm moves and Suguru almost jumps out of his body. Satoru gets his hand out from under the blanket, lowers the blanket even more in the process— Since when does he have abs?
Satoru reaches up, and fingers find Suguru’s chin. Did he…? Did he know that Suguru was staring? The fingers hold Suguru’s chin lightly. They are cold and Suguru holds very still. Heart drumming in his temples and face burning hot.
“My six eyes make you look so weird. Your cursed energy is a bunch of stuff mixed.” Satoru mutters.
“I thought you were asleep.” Suguru blurts out, dumbly. That’s no excuse. That makes it worse! He should bat Satoru’s hand from his face. The fingers are tracing his jaw, squeezing lightly.
Satoru shakes his head, the movement slow and deliberate.
"It was really annoying at first… Your energy, I mean. I’d get a headache every time I had class with you for like a month.” Satoru chuckles. “I hated your guts.”
Suguru blinks. That’s new. Not the hating his guts part, they used to fight all the time. But he just figured Satoru was a spoiled brat, mad to finally have competition. It was pain. He had no clue.
“What's it like?" Suguru asks. ”Right now, how does it feel?”
“Hm… I guess it’s like… Like I can’t filter things out like usual. Like something stopped working in my head and I just can’t… I don’t know. Focus on anything.”
“Like you’re overwhelmed?”
Satoru scrunches his nose, smiles a little.
“No? I’m perfectly whelmed.” His hand pushes Suguru’s head up, playful.
Suguru grabs his wrist and smiles back. That feeling again, warm and fuzzy.
“Uh-hm, I can see that.”
Satoru’s pinky gets a bit too close from Suguru’s bottom lip and they both freeze. Suguru lets go of him and Satoru's arm drops to the top of the blanket.
“Anyway, yeah, but I got used to it. Your energy is so weird that now it’s easy to…" Satoru trails off, hums. ”I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m saying.”
“You're saying that I look weird.”
Satoru smiles, wide and bright, then breathes out a laugh.
“Yeah, something like that.” He says. “Guess I just have to get used to everything in the world. Like I got used to you.”
Like I got used to you?
Eventually Satoru shuts up, and he sleeps. Chest moving up and down slowly under the covers, mouth softly open. Suguru has given up on not staring. What else is he going to do? He left his phone in his room and he’s not going to get up to get it.
Satoru turns to the side, and this time the headphones are not enough to stop him. He buries his face on Suguru’s stomach. Alright, this is— Then Satoru moves under the covers and Suguru slowly raises his hands as arms wrap around his torso. Satoru nuzzles his shirt, squeezing him like a pillow.
Suguru holds his palms in the air like he’s about to be arrested for the crime of seeing this. The white hair pouring on the pillow, Satoru’s back, fully out from under the blanket— His nose is cold against Suguru's belly. His stomach is filled with butterflies. He’s going to throw up.
Satoru’s ear is poking from under the headphone cup, it slipped out of place when he moved. Suguru takes a deep breath, he’s being ridiculous. He forces himself to lower his arms, and slides the plastic back over Satoru's ear.
He’s still smiling like an idiot.
What’s wrong with him? He can’t stop staring. And smiling. His phone could be right in his hand and he would be staring and smiling.
Would Satoru wake up if he ran his fingers through his hair? Would he think it’s weird? Would he be mad?
Suguru’s hand hovers above the white hair. He really wants to do it. He wants to do it so bad. Maybe he could. Maybe he should. His brain supplies an image of Satoru scrunching his nose and he is overcome with the impulse to giggle.
What the fuck is wrong with him lately?
Suguru purses his lips, tilts his head back on the couch. He can’t laugh, he’s going to wake Satoru up. His stray hand goes cover his mouth.
Shit. He’s actually going to crack up.
He’s crushing on Satoru, isn’t he?