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“Yoo hoo! Monkey-chan,” Satoru calls him, “how did it go?”
Suguru sighs and pointedly turns away. He’s just come back from a mission with the second-years, and the curses they exorcised are still bitter on his tongue, and he’s not in the mood to deal with… whatever Gojo Satoru’s problem with him is this time.
He’s a fool for thinking that walking away will discourage Satoru, though, because Satoru simply dashes in front of him and plants two hands on his chest, forcing him to come to a stop. Suguru tries to sidestep him, and Satoru pushes him back. Suguru turns around and starts walking in the opposite direction. Satoru appears in front of him again. Satoru with his annoying, nimble speed.
“Hey,” Satoru says.
“Stop,” Suguru says. “What are you doing?”
“I asked you a question. You definitely heard me, with those big monkey ears.”
Suguru crosses his arms. “I said to stop calling me that.”
“Well, what else am I supposed to call you? You don’t like it when I call you Suguru.”
Suguru groans. “I said you can call me Getou.”
“Bor-ing,” Satoru sings. “How was your mission, Monkey-chan? Swallow any curses?”
“Yes,” Suguru says. “There were two. Happy now? Can I go?”
“What grade were they?”
“Second.”
“Ah.” Satoru’s eyes glint with a look that Suguru has learned means no-good-news. Here it comes. “Have you ever wondered,” he drawls, “who will still kiss you after knowing you’ve swallowed so many curses?”
Suguru just stares at him. The sheer empty-headedness of Satoru astounds him sometimes.
“It is my technique,” he says, like he’s explaining maths to a toddler. “The only way for me to get stronger is to use it.”
“I know, but haven’t you wondered?” Satoru presses.
Suguru says nothing, hoping that getting no reaction out of him will shut Satoru down. It doesn’t.
"Well, I’ve wondered,” Satoru says.
“So it seems.” He starts walking. This time, Satoru allows him to pass and tags along beside him.
“Yes, and I wonder what it tastes like.”
Suguru’s brain short-circuits. Were they still talking about kissing? “What?”
“What do curses taste like?”
Now that Suguru thinks about it, no one’s ever asked him that before. His first inclination is to assume that everyone else knows curses must taste awful and that Satoru is just lacking in common sense. After all, all cursed techniques have a drawback when used; you have to pay what you dish out. But… Satoru didn’t ask him about the drawback. He asked what curses tasted like.
“As disgusting as your personality,” Suguru says to buy some time.
“Excuse you,” Satoru practically whines. “I am objectively attractive.”
“Keep telling yourself that.”
“More attractive than you, anyway.”
“I have a question.” Suguru stops abruptly. “Do people still find you attractive after they’ve had a full conversation with you?”
His insult does not have the desired effect. Satoru just smirks at him, and yeah, Suguru reluctantly admits, he burns your soul when he smiles like that, in a way that makes you want ever more.
“Why do you ask?” Satoru says, licking his lips—excuse him, he does what? “Scoping out your competition, Monkey-chan?”
Suguru scoffs, so taken aback he actually takes a few steps back. “As if.”
Satoru advances, and Suguru decides then and there that he’s not letting him get the upper hand. This is just another competition—and Satoru is winning by distracting Suguru to think about how "objectively attractive" even applies to him. To his glossy hair which the light strikes perfectly and the shine on his lips.
Suguru has to maintain a clear head and think of things to say that will get Satoru off balance. Verbal punches are something Satoru's always been better at, but Suguru is slowly improving. From what he’s learned in the already-too-long time they’ve known each other, Satoru’s biggest weakness is his ego. Not in the sense that he thinks too highly of himself—the boasting and arrogance is just an act, from what Suguru has gathered so far. Satoru’s actual flaw is that he thinks he can do everything himself if he just tries hard enough.
Before he has a chance to speak, though, Satoru blurts, “Get dinner with me.”
Suguru narrows his eyes. Every time he thinks he’s got Satoru figured out, an even more ridiculous sentence comes out of his mouth. It's too bad that Satoru is a big fat pompous jerk, otherwise Suguru might find his objective attractive face actually attractive, he decides. However, with that personality, nothing he says or does will be charming in any way to Suguru. Certainly not enough to get dinner with him.
“No. I’m tired,” he grumbles, at the same time as Satoru says, “Shoko’s coming too. I asked her. Before you came back.”
“What?”
“We were talking about getting ramen. Don’t come. It’s not like I care.” Satoru huffs in a way that doesn’t make Suguru want to grin stupidly at all. “I’ll get Shoko all to myself anyway.”
“Interesting. Didn’t Shoko tell you she’d made plans with me already?” Suguru says. He hasn’t spoken to Shoko all day, actually, but he doubts Satoru has either, and he wants to see him sweat.
“She didn’t.” His tone increases in petulance.
“We’re going to see a play,” Suguru says.
“Oh yeah? What’s the name?”
Suguru hesitates for half a second. “Bitter Fare, Sweet Affection.”
“You’re lying,” Satoru cackles. “You made that up.”
“Oh, is an uncultured swine like yourself telling me that, now?”
“No, but the strongest sorcerer with the Six Eyes cursed technique can tell when Monkey-chan’s lying. You’re too easy.” Satoru adjusts his shades, looking smug. “I’m sure it’s a play. Maybe. But you’re certainly not seeing it tonight. You never go out after a mission.”
“Keeping tabs on me, I see,” Suguru says. “Did that slip your mind when you asked me to get dinner with you just now?”
Satoru opens his mouth, then shuts it.
“You’re not the strongest sorcerer,” Suguru says. “Just because you have Six Eyes doesn’t mean you can see everything.”
He’s not quite sure what he means by that until he walks away, finally alone, and feels his chest grow hollow at the dwindling presence of Satoru, and thinks, Oh. That was fun. He wants to go back and keep bickering with Satoru until the moon flips the casket sky open into day. He wonders if Satoru can see that, in his posture, in the way he’s keeping his neck rigid so he doesn’t look back. He doubts it, though. He thinks he’s safe for now. Satoru’s always been dense.
*
It turns out Satoru might have read a little too much into what he said, because Suguru barely sees stupid Six-Eyes for the next week, almost like Satoru is avoiding him. Which is fine, Suguru tells himself. He’s glad to be free of that pesky, loudmouthed jerk. He doesn’t at all find himself looking over his shoulder, hoping to catch a glimpse of white hair, blue eyes, or keep his ears perked for the (annoying) sound of Satoru’s laughter.
When they run into each other again, it’s by chance.
“Shoko, have you seen my glasses?” Satoru says as he saunters into the kitchen one night, stopping cold when he sees that Shoko and Suguru are cooking dinner together.
Suguru glances at him and snorts. “They’re on your face, stupid.”
Meanwhile, all his systems go into overdrive: He didn’t check his appearance after he pulled his hair up. What if it looks bad? He hasn’t showered since training this afternoon. Can Satoru pick up on body odor more readily than others, too? Suguru tries to think of a way to surreptitiously sniff his shirt.
Behind him, he feels Satoru stiffen. “I’m talking about the other ones. I have four pairs, stupid.”
“You have four pairs of sunglasses?” Suguru can’t believe it. This is news to him. He needs to rub this in as much as possible. “Why?”
Satoru huffs. Suguru feels him starting to loosen up. He wonders what Satoru’s been thinking about him this past week to cause so much tension between them.
“In case,” Satoru says.
“In case of what?”
“In case I break one. Or lose one, or get it dirty.”
“So you meant to lose this one,” Suguru says.
“No,” Satoru whines. “Shoko, help me. Monkey-chan’s being mean.”
Shoko just raises an eyebrow. “Isn’t that why you have four pairs, though? So it won’t matter if you do lose one.”
“I hate both of you,” Satoru says. “I’m going to sleep—wait, no, I’m hungry.”
He goes to hover over Shoko’s shoulder and watches as she scoops a portion of rice into her bowl.
“Here at Jujutsu Tech, we make our own meals,” Suguru tells him, at the same time Shoko says, “Fix yourself a plate. We have plenty.”
Suguru glares at her. She sighs.
“You make me tired.”
“Gojo has that effect on people,” Suguru agrees.
“Hey—”
“It’s not just him,” she says, flicking him on the forehead.
“At least I don’t have four pairs of sunglasses.”
“Hey,” Satoru says. “It’s three, now.”
“So you’re giving up on finding them?” Suguru says. “Didn't peg you for a quitter, Gojo.”
“I’m not giving up,” Satoru says. “Just postponing the search. Like a missing persons case. Someday a few dumb teenagers will stumble upon the body in the woods.”
“Sounds like giving up.”
“Does not.”
“Does too.”
“Does not. You know why? Because I said so.”
Suguru snorts. “Three pairs of sunglasses is still unnecessarily extravagant.”
“Oh yeah? So are your dumb billowy pants.”
“Your skinny jeans cost three times as much as my pants. And I can run normally in mine.”
“The skinny jeans are a bodily restriction—“
“Likely story.”
“—that forces me to rely more on my cursed technique.”
Shoko slams the lid of the rice cooker with more passion than Suguru’s ever seen from her.
“You two are literally giving me a headache.”
She stalks out of the kitchen, leaving Satoru and Suguru behind to turn on each other with patronizing expressions. They hover that way for a moment. Suguru's not sure if he should launch into a full-on fistfight or figure out a way to look even more patronizing in hopes of making Satoru back off. He mentally steels himself for all the insults Satoru might have in his arsenal. What surprises him, though, is Satoru bursting into laughter.
After a few seconds, Suguru starts laughing, too. He's not sure what's funny, only that it is. And Satoru's laughter is contagious. He guesses this round's a draw.
*
To be clear, that doesn’t mean he likes Satoru any better. Every conversation with him is still just as annoying. During most of their time spent (reluctantly) together, they butt heads on everything, from how much water to add to rice to how best to exorcise a curse they are drastically underqualified for. Shoko gets so fed up with them that she personally requests Yaga to give her more assignments with Utahime-senpai. Satoru complains about her loss day and night.
“You shouldn’t have scared her away, then,” Suguru tells him, as he pummels a low-grade curse with a fistful of cursed energy.
Arguing with stupid Six-Eyes during a mission is a ritual now. It almost helps him focus, as they sweep from town to town, doing the dirty work that the higher grade sorcerers have passed down to them, scraping vermin off of ancestral shrines and haunted people.
“Me?” Satoru huffs. “It was obviously you that she didn’t want to be around.”
“Oh, please. If anything, it’s the person I turn into when I’m with you. Shoko knew better and abandoned us before you could infect her, too.”
“What do you mean? You’re a great person.”
Suguru laughs. “Did I just trick you into complimenting me?”
Satoru hesitates. A curse comes at him from behind, and Suguru saves his sorry ass with an uppercut that exorcises it on the spot.
“No,” Satoru says.
“Be more careful, idiot.” He employs his technique, coagulating the curse down to its essence, which he twirls in his fingers.
Satoru turns to him, his expression unreadable with those sunglasses. “I’ve always thought you were a great person, Monkey-chan.”
Suguru groans. “Enough with the ‘Monkey-chan.’”
Satoru just sticks his tongue out at him.
“I wish Shoko were here instead of you. Vehemently.”
“Shoko can’t put up with you,” Satoru says, haughtily, sneering, “but you’re lucky I can, Monkey-chan.”
Suguru rolls his eyes. He’s not going to keep on fighting a pointless battle. “Why do you insist on calling me that?”
“Monkey-chan doesn’t know why he’s named Monkey-chan?” Satoru gasps.
“Forget I asked.”
“Haven’t you guessed?”
“I don’t care.”
Suguru starts heading out of the area, making one last sweep for hidden curses.
“You’re smart,” Satoru teases. “You should be able to figure it out.”
“Be still my beating heart,” Suguru says dully, “Gojo called me great and smart.”
“I’m serious,” Satoru whines.
“Come on, let’s go.”
Satoru trails behind him, and when it’s apparent that Suguru isn’t going to slow down for him, he sprints to catch up, bumping their shoulders together.
“You’re Monkey-chan because of your big ears, of course,” Satoru says anyway. “And because you’re so cute.”
“You’re gross,” Suguru says.
“And because you act like one, too.”
Suguru narrows his eyes at Satoru. “What.”
“You act like a little monkey,” Satoru explains. “You always do things the proper way. You follow all the rules the senseis give us. You’re like their little monkey.”
“I am not,” Suguru says, “like a monkey.”
Satoru’s tone is still teasing, but it fazes him. “Most of the times we fight are because I want to cut corners, and you don’t. It’s infuriating—it’s also why Shoko doesn’t like working with you. She’s lazy. I’m lazy. You’re the opposite of lazy, Monkey-chan.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Suguru tries to keep his face impassive, but a part of him wonders if Satoru’s just messing with his head or if what he’s saying has some truth to it. Another part of him knows Satoru’s right. He snuffs that part out.
“It’s the truth,” Satoru sings. “Shoko told me herself.”
“I don’t care what Shoko said.”
Satoru gasps. “I’m telling her you said that.”
“Don’t,” Suguru says quickly. “She wouldn’t believe you anyway. Shoko knows she’s my favorite person.”
Satoru smirks. “What will you give me in return for keeping these lips sealed?”
Pretty lips, Suguru thinks before he can stop himself.
“Nothing.”
Satoru pulls out his phone. “I’m calling her right now.”
Suguru lunges for him, but Satoru evades him expertly. The thing is, he knows Satoru would call Shoko—and make a big fuss out of it, too.
Suguru sighs. He can’t believe it’s come down to this, but he really needs to stay in Shoko’s good graces. If he doesn’t, she’ll give him the silent treatment, and the last time she did that, Satoru drove him so crazy that he was in the library at 2 a.m. looking up if it was possible to turn a jujutsu sorcerer into a tree.
“What do you want?” he says through his teeth.
“A kiss.”
“Ew. No.”
“Fine. Then, I want to watch you swallow that curse.”
Suguru glares at him. “What the hell?”
Who asks for that? Satoru is so, so odd.
Suguru usually practices his curse technique in private. As a child, he used to hate it when other people watched him eat, and it’s the same idea here. He just doesn’t like the eyes on him while he wrestles with a curse in his own body, his own notion of self at stake. It makes him feel vulnerable beyond compare.
“Don’t be so cagey, Monkey-chan,” Satoru says with a smirk. “We’re friends, so we should know everything about each other. The good, the bad, and the nasty!”
“We are not friends,” Suguru snaps.
“Pleeease?” Satoru whines, drawing out the syllable until Suguru holds up a hand.
This is Satoru, he reminds himself. What’s the big deal if he sees? He’s been with Suguru in plenty of other vulnerable situations before. And it’s not like Suguru cares about Satoru’s opinion of him.
Suguru empties his pockets of all the curse essences he exorcised in their recent fight. “Which one?”
“Jeez, you have to eat all of them?” Satoru says.
“I usually do. When we get back.”
Satoru points to one at random. Or maybe it’s not at random. Suguru’s never sure how much his six eyes can see. “That one.”
“Alright.”
Suguru has this down to a science. He tips his head back, relaxes his jaw, and shoves the ball of vile essence down his throat, taking care that it touches as little of his tongue as possible. The bitterness coats the entirety of his insides anyway. His knees turn weak. He feels the curse settle into him. There’s no escaping the taste. It becomes a part of him.
He glances at Satoru, who’s just standing there. Looking. Again, Suguru wonders how much he saw beyond the motions of his technique. What he can see of Satoru’s face—mainly the lines around his mouth, since his eyes are obscured—looks grave and a little sorrowful, but as he catches Suguru’s gaze, he dons his usual smirk.
“Yum,” Satoru says.
Suguru hits him.
*
So, fine. Maybe they are friends, because a week later Suguru finds himself peering through the rain at Jujutsu Tech’s front gate for a sign of Satoru. Yaga sent them on their first missions without the other this week, and they were both due back yesterday. Suguru’s here, rested up, healed, has gotten the full reverse technique from Shoko already, etc.
Satoru’s not.
He’s being ridiculous, he tells himself, as his hand that’s holding the umbrella starts to cramp. Standing out in the rain waiting for Satoru to return when he could just as easily—and more comfortably—wait for him in the dormitory is ridiculous.
Suguru feels strange, unlike himself. There’s this yearning, gaping feeling in his chest and throat that widens with every second of Satoru’s absence. He wonders what to call it.
Does he miss Satoru? Impossible. He can never get enough respite from loudmouthed Six-Eyes usually. But the thought of Satoru never returning from that mission makes Suguru feel cold. Colder than standing out in the rain, colder than the feeling the curses inside him emanate, colder than isolation. So when Yaga said he’d heard from the first-grade sorcerer leading the mission that Mei-Mei and Satoru were returning sometime tonight, Suguru thought, I’ll wait for him.
If only to rub it in Satoru’s smug face that Suguru had completed his own mission on time, and that made him superior.
That’s all there is to it. He’s waiting out here because he wants to be able to lord his victory over Satoru before he gets a chance to escape. (And maybe because they’re friends and Suguru cares a little for Satoru’s safe return.)
He is coming back, Suguru repeats in his head. It seems every day they hear about a sorcerer who doesn’t, but he’s coming back. Just a little longer.
“Monkey-chan!” he hears before he sees Satoru’s figure through the mist and pelting rain.
Suguru can’t help but exhale, releasing the sickening, grimy feeling sitting in his gut. Satoru emerges through the gate, followed by Mei-Mei and the first-grade sorcerer under one umbrella. He looks well-rested, surprisingly, his clothes a little rumpled. He’s even got his Limitless turned on so that the rain doesn’t get him.
Suguru gapes. He’s a little pissed off, to be honest. How dare Gojo Satoru look so good after what was surely a taxing mission that got out of hand? Suguru wants to hit him.
But—he restrains himself. Keeps his face in a neutral expression.
“You waited for me,” Satoru says, and there’s so much delight in his voice that Suguru just wants to smile at him and tell him, Yeah, I’m glad you’re okay.
“I expected you to look a little more beat up,” he says instead.
Satoru laughs. He steps under the umbrella and takes it from Suguru, crowding into his space. Suguru can feel the exact moment Satoru turns off his Limitless (he still can’t hold it for very long) because the air around him stops buzzing—that’s how close they are.
“That’s my umbrella,” Suguru says, even as he rubs his freezing hands.
Satoru pouts at him. “Share.”
He ends up holding it evenly over their heads as Suguru walks with him and the other sorcerers to the main building to debrief.
Afterwards the two of them lounge in the common room until well past midnight. Suguru keeps holding back yawns, but he feels too heavy to drag himself to his room. Satoru eats jelly beside him, commenting on a bad show that’s playing on their small TV. Suguru listens and lets his eyes drift close. He never does make fun of Satoru for taking so long on his mission. The moment never seems right.
*
It all escalates after that, so fast and drastic that even Suguru can’t ignore it. In the span of a couple days after the mission, the realizations hit him in quick succession—like a combo of black flashes—and leave him with a reeling headache.
Satoru’s eating an ice pop, and Suguru’s eyes are drawn to his lips. Pretty, he thinks again at their cherry blossom pinkness. He’s stopped being in denial of that, at least, since the mission where Satoru watched him eat the curse, and his days are much freer for it. Then another thought pops into his mind, unbidden: He would like to kiss them—Satoru’s lips.
Wait.
What?
He doesn’t even have time to process that, because Satoru throws an arm around his shoulders and announces they’re late for training. The heat his arm produces around Suguru’s neck is too much for the summer, and he thinks about shaking Satoru off, then hesitates. He doesn’t mind the proximity.
He wants to reach up and hang onto the slender fingers that are dangling over his shoulder—he wants to hold Satoru’s hand.
The thoughts are so foreign he fears someone has given him a brain implant. Someone like Satoru.
Yes, Satoru.
In a daze, he watches as Satoru trains and thinks, I want to fight alongside him forever.
Training is over before he knows it, and Satoru drags him along to look for a snack. They find tangerines in the kitchen, and Satoru holds two out to Suguru and pouts. Suguru knows what he wants without asking. He plucks one of the tangerines out of Satoru’s palm and starts taking off the skin. Satoru hates peeling his own fruit, always makes Suguru do it for him.
“Can you peel the other one, too, when you’re done?” Satoru says.
“I was planning to, since it’s mine.”
Satoru’s pout grows impossibly wider. He actually has a really big mouth, Suguru notices. “What if I wanted both?”
“There’s a whole bag in the fridge.”
“Those are cold. Cold hurts my teeth. These are the only two that have been sitting out.”
“I’ll consider it,” Suguru says, even as he starts peeling the second one.
Satoru’s smile after Suguru hands him the naked tangerines should not send a comet bursting through his heart, a meteor shower in its wake. But it does.
The headache sets in along with the gravity of the situation. Suguru likes him. Likes Satoru. The most annoying, arrogant, ridiculous, impulsive, disgusting person on the planet.
Why, he thinks pathetically.
He watches Satoru pop a whole tangerine into his mouth, biting down too hard and squirting juice over his chin, and almost smiles.
“Wanna go out for dinner?” Satoru says, his mouth full.
“No,” Suguru says immediately, turns tail, and flees.
In retrospect, it seems inevitable that his rivalry with Satoru would have turned into a full-blown—whatever this is—given the sheer amount of time they spend together. Plus, he's always been a little too fascinated with Satoru. But, Suguru reasons, like a cursed technique, it can probably be reversed.
Naturally, he asks Shoko, “Can you check if I have a brain injury?”
She’s eating sunflower seeds. She chucks a rotten one at him. It bounces off his forehead, and he sighs, getting up to throw it in the trash.
“Sorry,” she says. “You were supposed to catch that.”
He holds the lid of the trash can like a shield. “I’m in love with Satoru.”
“Big deal.”
“What—how can you say that?”
She squints at him, but she doesn’t really look at him. “What kind of flowers do you think Utahime-senpai likes?”
“How am I supposed to know?”
Shoko slaps a handful of sunflower seeds into her mouth and chews angrily. “Or is she more of a chocolate person?”
“Are you going to help me or not,” Suguru grumbles.
Shoko huffs. “I’m so bad at this.”
“What? Helping people?”
“No—romance.”
Suguru sets the trash can lid down with a sigh. “Me too.”
So, that conversation’s useful.
The only option, he decides, is to avoid Satoru like the plague. Because if Satoru finds out about the extent of his feelings, Suguru’s done for. Satoru is a merciless tease. He’ll never hear the end of it.
That conviction lasts all about three seconds, because the next thing he knows, Yaga’s assigning the three first-years another mission. Some cursed spirits have infested an abandoned factory in the city, and the school is shorthanded, so once again, they are the only sorcerers available for the job.
Suguru's in bad spirits the whole way there, because he has to deal with watching Satoru eat lollipops, so in retrospect he suppose it makes sense that he freezes as a particularly bloated curse comes at him, his addled brain stuck in a particularly complicated riddle to the point where existence mattered very little.
Satoru saves his life.
Later, in the hospital, as Suguru sits at Satoru's bedside, he replays the look of utter despair on Satoru's face as Suguru faces his death. He's been off all week, and Satoru's noticed it, and Suguru has noticed Satoru noticing. Snapped at him on the way to the factory when Satoru suggested he sit this one out. Suguru was stronger than him, even under the influence of his prying stare, his damn concern for Suguru's wellbeing. Satoru would see.
And now Satoru is hurt. Really hurt. As in didn't even get his Limitless up in time before he threw himself in front of the curse type-hurt. It's all Suguru's fault, and he will owe stupid Six-Eyes for as long as their short lives last. He hates himself.
The hate ebbs in the passing days, as he watches Shoko tend to Satoru's wounds, and turns into desperation. He realizes if their roles had been reversed, he would have put his body between Satoru and any impending demise. A week later, when Satoru wakes up, Suguru is so elated he volunteers to feed Satoru his medicine. Satoru swallows the bitter herbal concoction with profuse whining, which is how Suguru knows he'll be okay. He follows the bowl of medicine up with a spoonful of syrup and watches delight, then confusion, cross Satoru's face.
"What?" he snaps. "Can't appreciate when I do something nice for you?"
"That's the problem," Satoru says breezily. "You're never nice."
"I can be nice."
"What's in this for you, hm? Is this a punishment from Shoko-chan? She blames you for almost killing me, doesn't she?"
"No," Suguru mutters. "This is a reward."
Then, he sets the bottle of syrup down and leaves. He doesn't come back.
Satoru gets out of the hospital a few days later on crutches, and he looks so thin that Suguru asks him to get dinner in the city before even considering what that means. The day is golden when Satoru agrees, his voice small and weary. Suguru carries him to Shoko's favorite spot, while Satoru tries to swing his crutches at Suguru's kneecaps, and relief washes over him when he gives Satoru his leftovers and sees that his appetite is coming back.
Suguru lets him crutch all the way back, seeing that he's getting better—and because Satoru made fun of him a few times over dinner. They stop at the door to Satoru's room, and he says, "Monkey-chan."
When Suguru turns to face him, Satoru lets his crutches fall and grabs Suguru by the ears, pulling him into a kiss.
Suguru stumbles away, sputtering, red-faced. "What was that for!"
"I had to do that once," Satoru says with a devilish grin and no trace of a smile in his eyes. "Before I get better and you stop pretending to like me."
Suguru curses and storms away. Of course Satoru saw right through his stupid crush, and now he's going to tease him about it until the day Suguru dies. He shouldn't have been so obvious about it, but he'd just been so stressed and worried the past few weeks that he hadn't stopped to consider that he and Satoru didn't act like this.
Suguru was never supposed to fall in love with him.
He avoids Satoru like the plague for the next three days, but there are only a fixed number of places at Jujutsu Tech you can hide from an especially powerful sorcerer. Satoru finds him in a tree on the fourth day.
"Yoo-hoo," Suguru hears below him. He staunchly tries to ignore it and pretends to watch the sunset. He's never understood the fascination with sunsets. "Suguru."
Well, he's never called him that before. Suguru's interest is piqued, but it's not enough.
"I sense that I've… hurt your feelings in some way."
Not really. There was no way Satoru could have known the extent of Suguru's feelings when he kissed him. And Satoru did things like that as jokes all the time. But Suguru wants to be petty, so he is petty. Still, he ignores the boy at the base of the tree.
"I'm sorry," Satoru continues. "For kissing you. At least I know you don't taste as gross as curses smell now. Can you please come down?"
Suguru sighs. There are only three first years at Jujutsu Tech, and he can't avoid Satoru forever. At some point, he's bound to be assigned another mission with him, and he can't be off his game then, too. As much as it seems otherwise, Satoru only has one life, and Suguru is adamant it won't be his fault when Satoru has to give it up.
He jumps down. "What do you want?"
"To apologize," Satoru says. "Which I already did."
"Okay, great."
He turns away, but Satoru grabs him.
"No, wait! There's something else I wanted to say, actually."
Suguru rolls his eyes. "Hurry up, then."
It's an eternity until Satoru finally works himself up to speaking. "You haven't been very nice."
"What?" Suguru explodes. "I was worried sick about you. I'm embarrassed by how long I sat by your bed waiting for you to wake up. And yet, all you do is make fun of me. I haven't even gotten a chance to thank you!"
"That doesn't seem like my problem," Satoru points out.
"Shut up," Suguru says, very maturely. "Don't speak to me again."
"No! Let me finish." The grip on Suguru's wrist hurts, but he can't help but relish Satoru's touch. Satoru's skin touching his skin. "You were very nice when I was recovering, but at the same time, that wasn't nice at all. Do you even know what that did to me?"
Suguru had just about had it. "What are you talking about?" He was going to start summoning curses on Satoru before he says—
"You've rejected me more times than I can count, Suguru."
Suguru's eyes bulge. Rejection? He hasn't rejected Satoru. He doesn't even recall Satoru ever asking.
"Then, suddenly, I wake up, and you're feeding me medicine and food and being very nice to me. I'm sorry if it took me a while to get used to. I thought I was dead at first, and it was all a hallucination! But it helped when I realized you just felt bad about me getting hurt. I'm still sorry, though. I shouldn't have kissed you without asking your permission first."
Suguru's certain his ears have stopped working. He touches them, gingerly. What kind of spell did Satoru cast over him? "What?"
Satoru pouts. "Can you just go back to being nice, please, Monkey-chan?"
"Wait." He glares at the stupid boy leaning against the tree like he doesn't have a care in the world. Everything about him is so carefully constructed. The slope in his shoulders. The mischievous glint in his eyes. The slope of his lips into a dickish smirk. Suguru sees past all of it now. "You thought I rejected you?"
Satoru laughs. "Yeah."
"When?"
"Well, I asked you on a date, and you said no. I asked to kiss you, and you said no."
"I thought you were joking!"
"Well, I know you don't like me, so I had to protect my pride somehow."
"Wait a minute." Suguru seethes. "All that time. You liked me?"
Satoru's slumped further against the tree now, trying to get away from Suguru, who's leaned forward with every demand. He no longer looks so confident. "Yeah, wasn't it obvious?"
"Not in the slightest."
"Oh," Satoru says. "Well. Now you know."
Now he looks scared, and Suguru suddenly knows how he feels. He felt the same amount of bare vulnerability shining across Satoru's face when he was in the hospital hoping for Satoru's recovery. When he put himself in Satoru's place over and over and imagined that it was him saving Satoru's life and not the other way around. Wishing he could have sacrificed himself.
Satoru examines his face nervously. "What are you thinking, Monkey-chan?"
"Will you let me kiss you?" Suguru blurts.
Satoru looks suspicious. "Why?"
"Because I like you," Suguru says. "More than I ever thought was possible."
"Oh," Satoru says. "Then, yes."
Suguru leans in, suddenly fixated. This is all he's been thinking about for weeks, and he realizes maybe Satoru has felt this way for much longer. He brushes their lips together with care, and Satoru's are even softer than he'd dared imagine. It soon becomes obvious that Satoru is not interested in being careful. He grabs Suguru's face and slides their tongues together and swallows a moan Suguru unwittingly lets out.
"Is this really happening?" Satoru says.
Suguru breaks away just long enough to frown at him, this beautiful boy with clear eyes and the most genuine smile, who has turned into himself under Suguru's kisses. "Yes, I think so."
Satoru kisses him again. Satoru holds him like he's not just a sacrifice and not full of poison and instead something meant to be held.
"I don't want you to have to suffer," Satoru breathes against his lips. "Ever."
"Tough world out there for that," Suguru says.
Satoru laughs, and Suguru realizes he loves the taste of his breath. He loves the way his skin glows under sunset pink. And he understands why people love sunsets now. He doesn't want Satoru to ever suffer, either, but somehow he doubts that even if he swallows all the grime and filth and bad in the world, suffering will still make its way to them. But somehow, he vows, they will make do.