Archive of Our Own

Satoru always had this dream when he was little where he was completely alone at an airport searching for something— for someone— only to come up empty. He would wander for what felt like days, years, centuries, until he saw someone in the distance: a man with dark hair and pretty eyes and a kind smile. 

He would wake up before he reached him. 

As he grew up he started to forget that dream. 

That is, until he stumbled upon a boy that felt like he walked straight out of his memories.

It was the day he first laid eyes on Suguru. 

As a kid, Satoru wasn’t supposed to leave the compound, but rules never stopped him.

He had slipped through the old side gate, the one with the broken latch that no one ever bothered to fix, just to explore. He was tired of the elders and servants peering over his shoulder, making sure he was doing his work. He was tired of the expectations on him for being a Gojo. 

So when he walked through the grass and into the trees without a plan, it didn’t matter. He didn’t need one. He was Gojo Satoru, heir to the Gojo clan, a freshly presented alpha, and, apparently, a genius. He was just going to explore a little. Maybe find something interesting.

He didn’t expect it to be him.

The first time Satoru found him, he was crouched beside flowering bushes, constantly blowing at this funny little bang that kept tickling his nose as he poked carefully at a snail sitting on a leaf. 

Satoru slowed, sniffing the air automatically to scent him, but found no scent. A beta then?

Satoru stepped closer. “You’re not very good at hiding,” he said.

The boy turned, surprised. “I wasn’t hiding.” The boy was looking at him like he looked familiar too. 

“What are you doing out here then, flower boy?” 

The boy scowled at him. “Why should I tell you? You don’t own this place.”

Satoru laughed. “Actually I do. You’re on Gojo grounds.”

The boy flushed, standing up slowly, brushing dirt from his shorts. “I thought that was past those trees,” he mumbled.

Satoru shrugged. “The gates maybe, but all of this is ours. Don’t you know who the Gojo are?”

“I don’t care.”

That made Satoru pause. No one talked to him like that before. He laughed. “Wow. I like you,” he decided out loud.

The boy just stared at him warily. “I don’t like you yet.”

Yet.

It was a challenge. To an alpha like Satoru, it made his heart do something strange.

“My name’s Satoru,” he said, holding out his hand to shake the other boy’s. “Gojo Satoru!”

The dark haired boy hesitated for a second, glancing down at his hand, before straightening and intertwining their fingers.

“…Suguru. Geto Suguru.”

Satoru smiled. 

Suguru.

Why did it feel like he already knew him in another life?

They spent the next hour just running through the trees, poking inside cracks of tree trunks, and lifting up rocks to watch the insects run. It was fun. It was freeing.

When their time together dwindled down— when Satoru knew he probably had to return before someone noted his absence— he turned to his newfound friend.

“Same time next week, Suguru?”

Suguru looked at him like he wasn’t sure if he meant it. Like maybe people didn’t usually come back.

He nodded tentatively. 

Satoru just grinned.

He would come back.

For Suguru? 

Always.

One weekend turned into two. Then another. And another.

Satoru found himself looking forward to each day he would see Suguru. 

Everything about Suguru just felt… right. Like the pieces in the world finally fell into place.

He learned to wait until the Gojo household was distracted or after his tutors and trainers had left before he slipped away. A few times, he even feigned a stomachache or other illness. Most of the time, though, he’d just finish his assignments as quickly as possible so that his teacher would have no option but to dismiss him early.

He always left through the same ivy-covered gate.

And Suguru was always waiting, even if he’d never admit to it.

“One day you’re going to get caught,” Suguru would say, pretending not to look relieved.

“Nah,” Satoru would grin. “Did you miss me?”

“No,” Suguru would lie.

They would spend their days wandering. Once, they found a tiny creek with smooth stones and a log that they tried to balance on. Other times, they played with sticks like swords, and built flower crowns for each other before laying in the grass. Suguru somehow knew the names of every plant they passed. 

The few hours he got to spend with Suguru were great. Satoru felt like he could finally breathe. 

The rest of the week was different.

“An alpha must lead, Satoru,” his grandfather told him once. “You were born with responsibility.”

At home, there were no friends. Only his instructors and tutors and guards. People who bowed and obeyed and reminded him over and over again how he was the next head of the Gojo clan. How he carried history on his shoulders. 

On weekends, he left it behind. 

With Suguru, he could be himself. 

“I still don’t like you,” Suguru said once, after Satoru offered him half his snack.

Satoru rolled his eyes. “Liar.”

Suguru just smiled, biting into the rice cracker.

Suguru didn’t have to say he liked him, because Satoru knew. He always came back to see him too.

More and more time passed, and they got older. 

Suguru had been taller than Satoru when they first met, but one day, without even noticing the gradual change, Satoru realized he could see straight over the top of Suguru’s head. Suguru had gotten taller too, of course, but not as tall as Satoru. 

“Aren’t alphas supposed to be tall?” Suguru would tease him. 

Suguru had grown out his hair a bit, and Satoru loved to play with it, wrapping the strands around his fingers or trying to braid flowers through the dark strands. 

Suguru started to resemble that person in his dream more and more each day that passed. Satoru always felt like they were meant to find each other, but this just added to his belief. 

No matter how old they got, they still met up in the clearing by the same flower bushes he had first found Suguru. They talked about everything and nothing. Sometimes they just laid in the grass, shoulders pressed together, as they stared up at the clouds. 

Suguru told him a lot about his school. How many kids there were, random preteen and now teen drama. Satoru loved to listen to him. It was like seeing into a world he never experienced. Eventually, he decided—

“I’m going with you,” Satoru said one afternoon. “To your school. For high school.”

Suguru looked surprised. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Satoru nodded, rolling onto his side so he could watch him. It felt right. Like they were meant to go to the same school. “It’ll be great! We can hang out all day instead of just for a few hours on the weekend.”

“Will your family let you?” Suguru asked. 

Satoru shrugged. “I don’t know, but I’ll fight for it. I want to be around you more, Suguru.”

Suguru flushed a pretty pink that Satoru didn’t often see on him, but he had been noticing it a little more and more recently. 

“Okay,” Suguru said, a small smile forming on his face. “It’ll be fun.” 

There was some resistance from his clan, but a few well-placed arguments had them bending to Satoru’s will. They figured some real world experience would be good for him. Maybe they thought he’d hate it and would decide he wanted to go back to home-schooling. 

It didn’t matter. 

They didn’t know he was doing it for Suguru.

The last weekend before school started, Satoru made his way to the clearing, a pleasant flutter in his chest that he didn’t quite understand. He was excited to see Suguru and talk about their plan for the first day of school. He was always used to Suguru being there waiting for him. (Suguru would often complain about Satoru’s tardiness). 

But Suguru wasn’t there.

The flower bushes were in bloom, soft pink and yellow, similar to the first time they met.

Satoru waited.

He waited longer than usual— long after the sun dipped low and the fireflies came out. Still, Suguru didn’t come.

He went back home reluctantly, already pushing the limit when it came to his curfew, but he came back the next day. 

The clearing was just as empty.

It felt wrong. 

When there were weekends they knew they wouldn’t be able to meet, they told each other or hid a note in the flower bushes. 

This was different. 

He tried not to worry. Suguru had to show up at school. He had to.

The first day of high school was weird. He had a uniform, and there were too many scents and people around. 

But Satoru kept a seat empty beside him as he waited for Suguru to walk in. He had pulled some strings to make sure they were in the same class. 

Suguru didn’t come. 

Satoru barely slept that night. He thought about all the worst possibilities. Was Suguru hurt? Did he move and not tell him? Did Suguru actually hate him and all these years were a lie? 

But then, on the second day of class, he saw him.

Suguru walked into the classroom, just a minute before the bell rang, looking uncharacteristically nervous. 

And his scent—

Satoru inhaled, confused. 

Suguru had a scent. 

Suguru had a scent. 

It was sweet and warm like the crushed petals from the flowers in the clearing when they wrestled around them a bit too close.  

Suguru had presented.

As an omega.

Satoru didn’t really process it at that moment. All he knew was that Suguru was here— he was back — sliding into the seat he had saved for him. 

Suguru looked a little shy when their eyes met. 

“You’re back,” Satoru said, relieved. 

Suguru smiled. “I’m back.”

Satoru didn’t realize it then, but everything had changed. 

Satoru found he liked parts of high school. It could be fun, and honestly it was a breeze. He genuinely found all the subjects easy, and the best part was— he was able to spend most of his time with Suguru. 

He also made other friends too, like a beta named Shoko. She was funny and smart and she didn’t mind telling him how it was. But despite making new friends, Suguru was his constant.

They ended up joining the same sports team, which was cool, but Suguru also ended up joining the botany club. Satoru followed him towards the classroom that day even though he could have gone home.

“Why botany?” he asked, groaning. “We could go to the arcade instead.”

“I want to learn to take care of plants properly,” Suguru said, elbowing him in the side. “Go to the arcade by yourself if you want to so badly.”

“It’s not fun without you,” Satoru said honestly. 

Suguru had just given him a soft laugh before heading inside.

Satoru lingered for a while, wandering the halls, listening to Suguru’s voice drifting in through the cracked door as he talked about soil pH and root systems and Latin names of plants Satoru would never remember.

He liked it— his voice. The soft way Suguru spoke about things. Suguru was kind and friendly and… 

And he wasn’t the only one who noticed.

As the seasons passed, alphas from other grades had started to approach Suguru during lunch and in the halls. Strangers might pass by during club activities or watch from the sidelines as Suguru did a warm up stretch. Once, Satoru even found a flower left on Suguru’s desk from some alpha in another class, and Satoru crumpled it in his fist before Suguru even saw it.

Suguru didn’t even seem to realize all the attention on him, but Satoru did.

He’d notice the way some people would sniff the air a little as Suguru walked by, especially when his heat was near. Taking in his flowery scent like it was theirs to scent. Satoru didn’t know why he had to guard it and try to keep it to himself. He hadn’t really realized that Suguru being an omega meant something between them was now different until moments like that.

Satoru was an only child, and he never really learned to share.

If someone were to ask him, Satoru would think he realized the extent of his feelings pretty late, in his opinion. It happened during their last year of high school. 

It was spring and the sakura blossoms were in bloom. They were walking home from school, Suguru talking about the following year and how different it would be. Satoru wasn’t paying that much attention, honestly. He was too busy watching how a petal caught in Suguru’s hair— a pretty pale pink against inky black.

He reached out to brush it off, his fingers brushing against Suguru’s cheek.

Suguru looked at him. “What?”

Satoru just held out the petal in answer. 

Suguru just hummed, continuing on, but as Satoru watched him, something in his chest fluttered. 

One day during lunch, they decided to eat outside in the yard, their backs against a large tree as the sun shined high above them. Suguru had taken off his jacket because of the heat, his shirt clinging a bit to his skin, tucked into the high waist of his pants. Satoru was watching him from the corner of his eye, his heart beating a bit too fast, when someone called out Suguru’s name.

“Hey, Geto! Botany meeting still on tomorrow?”

It was an alpha from another class whose name Satoru didn’t care to remember.

Suguru nodded politely. “Yeah. Same time.”

The alpha boy smiled, flashing too many teeth, his eyes lingering where they shouldn’t. 

Satoru watched it all. Watched him. 

He hated how it made him feel.

It made something ugly and green grow in his chest— jealousy. Jealousy. It was ridiculous because there was no reason for him to be jealous. 

Suguru— Suguru didn’t like that guy. That guy didn’t matter.

But that night, while Satoru stared at the ceiling as he laid in his bed, it hit him.

He was in love with Suguru.

He realized it wasn’t a sudden thing. It was a seed deep inside of him that had grown slowly, bloomed under Suguru’s smile and laughter and scent and attention. 

It had been growing all this time, cared and nurtured for by all the things they experienced together. 

The way Suguru’s laugh felt like the warmth of summer, Satoru gravitating towards him like a plant seeking out light. The cute way he chewed on the cap of his pen or tugged at the end of his bang when he was nervous. The way Suguru always remembered how he liked his tea. The way he didn’t let anyone walk all over him, always able to hold his own, not caring that some people called him omega, like it was a slur.

The time he rubbed sunscreen on the back of Satoru’s neck during a school trip to the beach after realizing he burned easily. The way Satoru tried ignoring the way his brain turned to jelly as Suguru leaned over him, his scent in Satoru’s nose during the whole affair. How he had flushed a deep scarlet, making Suguru worry that he had heat stroke. 

He remembered how he would linger out in the halls outside the botany club room, especially when he knew Suguru’s heat would be approaching in the next few days. Sometimes he waited just by the main entrance, umbrella in hand, ready to walk Suguru home on a rainy day to make sure he didn’t get wet, even if it meant his own sleeve soaked through. 

He remembered one of the rare moments he saw Suguru cry— small, angry tears that he tried to hold back, when he realized a classmate was spreading rumors about him— that he was easy, and if an alpha would just ask, Suguru would service them. Satoru remembered his own red hot anger thinking about what that meant and what it entailed, but what he remembered most of all was the way Suguru’s scent had changed when he was upset; the sweet floral smell would muffle and sour. 

He remembered all of it. 

Maybe he had always known, deep down inside.

But he acknowledged it now.

He loved Suguru.

He loved Suguru. 

Graduation was kind of boring.

Satoru tried not to yawn through most of the speeches, slouched in his chair, only straightening up when Suguru poked him in the side and glared at him. Shoko had texted him a picture halfway through the ceremony— Satoru half asleep with his head on Suguru’s shoulder, Suguru with a little blush on his face. 

Satoru set it as his wallpaper.

At the end of the ceremony, Satoru cheered with the rest of the students before turning to Suguru, flinging his arms around his waist, and lifting him straight off the ground.

“We’re free, Suguru!” he laughed as Suguru squirmed, laughing with him.

“Satoru, put me down!”

“No, I’m celebrating! We’re free, my little flower boy. You’re— ow— okay, okay, stop hitting me—”

When Satoru finally put him down, he took in the way Suguru’s hair was now mussed, cheeks pink, staring at him with a spark in his eyes. Suguru’s scent drifted towards him, like a mixture of fresh cut jasmine and rose— a particular flower he couldn’t quite name. 

Satoru leaned in, hugging him again, nuzzling his cheek against Suguru’s. “I’m glad we’re going to the same university, Suguru.”

Suguru hugged him back. “Me too,” he said quietly.

“There you are, Satoru.”

Satoru froze for a second, his hold around Suguru tightening before he sighed into his hair, letting go of him. 

His grandfather stood a few feet away, narrowed eyes watching the both of them. “Congratulations,” he said. “Not that it was ever in question. This was expected of you.”

Ugh. Never actual praise from his family.

Satoru smiled anyway. “Thank you. Still nice to be told I did good.”

His grandfather ignored him, eyes settling on Suguru. “You must be the boy from the botany club.”

Suguru inclined his head. “Geto Suguru. Nice to meet you.”

The elder Gojo gave a small nod, but Satoru knew him well enough to realize he didn’t approve of Suguru. His grandfather turned back to Satoru. “I’ll be waiting by the car.”

Satoru stared after him as he left, frowning.

“He doesn’t like me,” Suguru spoke, sounding a little sad.

“Who cares what he thinks,” Satoru said, scoffing, but Suguru’s expression didn’t change, his eyebrows scrunched together, biting his lower lip like he was thinking hard about something. 

A few days later, Satoru found himself sitting across from his grandfather in a room typically reserved for meetings. Teacups sat between them, the drinks cold and untouched. 

“You’ve grown,” his grandfather said. “And you’ve done well, despite… distractions.”

Satoru grit his teeth. “He’s not a distraction.”

The older alpha sighed. “Satoru. You are the last of the main bloodline. The heir of our legacy. Your parents entrusted this to you before their untimely death. We cannot afford to gamble that on someone who doesn’t matter.”

Satoru looked down at his tea, angry. How could he even suggest Suguru didn’t matter?

“Don’t you think my parents would have wanted me to be happy?” he asked instead.

“This is not about happiness,” his grandfather responded sharply. “It is about duty. You are an alpha, and a Gojo. Everything about your future must reflect that. He does not fit in that plan.”

Satoru’s fingers clenched around his cup.

He had nothing more to say. There was nothing he could say.

But he knew he wouldn’t give up Suguru.

University life with Suguru was everything Satoru expected it to be— and also so much more.

They shared a cramped little dorm at the edge of campus, the kind with peeling paint, a flickering hallway light, and a heater that rattled when it ran too long. But Satoru didn’t care. They had it to themselves. No nosy clan eyes around to bother them. Just mismatched mugs, stolen cafeteria snacks, and Suguru's potted plants lined up along the windowsill.

He’d pulled more strings than he should have to make this happen.

There was a policy, of course— omegas and alphas shouldn't room together. Too risky.

But Satoru was the Gojo heir, and he knew when to use that leverage sometimes. 

It was great. It was fun, filled with movie nights, quiet study time, and just the opportunity to be around each other.

Everything was so amazing, he hadn’t considered what would happen when Suguru’s heat came.

He wasn’t stupid; he knew it would happen eventually, but there was knowing something in theory— and then there was the slow, creeping realization of it becoming real.

Suguru often became a little more reserved the days leading up to his heat. He spent longer in the shower, doing things that Satoru tried not to think about too hard.

His scent also changed— richer and heavier, making Satoru’s mouth water.

Satoru didn’t mind leaving their shared space to let Suguru have a peaceful heat, but one night, while they were laying in their respective beds, Suguru spoke.

“I think I’ll stay in a heat dorm next week.”

Heat and rut dorms were made specifically for people to safely spend their cycles while they lived on campus. Not everyone used them.

Satoru turned his head to look at him across the dark room. “Huh?”

“I think it’d be safer,” Suguru said.

He was right, of course. There were many unfortunate reported incidents where an omega decided to spend their heat in their dorm and a visiting alpha went into a frenzy just catching their scent through the cracks in the door. There had also been incidents of alphas who left their rooms during their ruts only to end up attacking someone. 

Suguru was right, but it still made something twist in Satoru’s gut. 

“You don’t trust me?” he asked.

Suguru gave him a long look. “You know that’s not it.”

“But you don’t want to be around me when it happens.”

Suguru sighed. “Satoru—”

“I wouldn’t hurt you, Suguru,” Satoru said, propping himself up on an elbow. “And… what if I want to help you?”

Suguru’s eyes widened slightly before he turned away, swallowing tightly. “I’ll think about it.”

Suguru left for the heat dorm the following week.

He packed his things in a small bag and didn’t look Satoru in the eye when he said goodbye.

Satoru acted like it was fine, but it wasn’t.

Logically, he knew Suguru was okay. That was the whole point of a heat dorm— safety and privacy— but logic didn’t soothe the way his instincts made him restless.  

He ended up sulking those next few days. 

When Suguru came back, he looked a little tired, but otherwise things were normal.

They talked about assignments and hung out after classes. Satoru pretended he didn’t breathe a little deeper when the scent in the room shifted again, back to regular Suguru— all sweet and floral.

They were forced to go to their first college party. It was Shoko’s idea. Some upperclassman was throwing a dorm party, and she dragged them along.

“You two are acting weird,” she said. “Get drunk—”

“I don’t drink—” Satoru tried to interject.

“Get over whatever happened between you two,” she went on, ignoring him. “Be together again.”

“We were never—” Suguru started, but she was already gone, leaving them in a room filled with pulsing music and the scent of too many bodies.

Satoru kept close to Suguru the whole night. Enough that he could smell the faint traces of alcohol on Suguru’s breath when he laughed.

Suguru got tipsy quickly. And a drunk Suguru… was affectionate.

Suguru kept a hand on his sleeve as he laughed at something someone said. Occasionally, he’d rest his head on Satoru’s shoulder, playing with the hem of his shirt as he got quiet, a little overwhelmed from the party. 

At some point, when they were standing in a dark corner of the room, Suguru leaned against him, cheeks flushed red, eyes a bit glassy as he looked up at him.

“You’re so tall,” Suguru murmured, squinting up at him. “I can’t believe I used to be taller than you.”

Satoru chuckled, sliding his hand around the small of Suguru’s waist as he swayed a bit. “You used to make fun of me all the time.”

Suguru huffed, pouting. “I couldn’t believe you were an alpha,” he said, pinching his fingers together. “You were itty bitty.”

Satoru rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t even that much smaller than you.”

Suguru was staring at him curiously, fingers splayed against the plane of Satoru’s chest. “Hm. You definitely aren’t now.”

Satoru tilted down, smirking. “Jealous, Suguru?”

Suguru hummed, dragging his hand up higher until he was cupping his jaw. “I’m not sure that’s the right word for it.”

Suddenly, Satoru didn’t care that there were other people dancing around them or that the music was too loud in his ears.

There was only Suguru, holding his cheek, thumb brushing against his lips.

“Suguru…” he murmured. 

“You’re so annoying sometimes,” Suguru said thoughtfully, but he was smiling. “Why do I even like you?”

Satoru knew Suguru liked him, but still— it was nice hearing it. His brain short-circuited just a little, but he tried to play it cool.

“Do you like me more than your plants?” Satoru teased.

Suguru laughed softly.

The moment had been perfect until another alpha appeared. He was some guy Satoru recognized from Suguru’s lit class who often tried to talk to Suguru after lessons had ended.  Satoru had seen the guy while he was waiting to go to the dining hall with Suguru.

“Hey, Geto,” the guy said, ignoring Satoru completely. “You smell real good tonight. Wanna dance?”

Suguru wrinkled his nose, voice a little slurred when he replied, “No, thank you.”

The alpha reached out anyway, uncaring that Satoru already had a hand on Suguru’s waist. 

Satoru moved faster than him, gripping the guy’s wrist. 

“He said no,” Satoru said coldly. “Back the fuck off.”

He released his scent slightly, just enough to make the other guy cower a bit before he scuttled away.

Suguru was just looking at him quietly, nostrils flaring just a bit, like Satoru’s angry pheromones did nothing to scare him. If anything, he just stood closer.

Satoru didn’t let go of him for the rest of the night.

They stumbled back to their dorm late that night. The room smelled like them, a little sweet and warm, like the forest clearing back at home. 

Satoru helped Suguru into his bed, tugging the covers up, but as he turned away, Suguru grabbed his wrist.

“Wait.” Suguru was staring up at him with a soft smile, eyes that were half lidded, and his cheeks still pink.

Then, he leaned up and pressed a kiss to Satoru’s cheek.

Satoru froze.

“You smell nice, Satoru,” Suguru said, a little dreamily. His lips brushed Satoru’s jaw next, creeping up closer and closer to his lips—

Satoru stopped him with a gentle hand on Suguru’s shoulder. “I— Suguru, you’re drunk. I can’t,” he forced himself to say.

Suguru’s face fell. “But I want to kiss you.”

Fuck. In any other context, Satoru would have been ecstatic.

“Kiss me when you’re sober,” he said. Please, he didn’t add. 

Suguru didn’t say anything, he just looked down, his face sad as he curled up into his blanket. 

Satoru stood there for a moment, Suguru’s kiss still burning on his skin. 

They didn’t talk about what happened after the party. Suguru woke up the next morning, slightly hungover, but otherwise acted as if nothing had happened. They continued to sit through shared lectures, ate dinner together in the cafeteria, and continued about their day.

Suguru would glance at Satoru sometimes, eyes distant, like he was thinking about something. 

And Satoru… Satoru couldn’t help but be hyper aware of the way Suguru’s lips looked when he sipped on a drink. Or the way he tucked his hair behind his hair. Or the way they sat a bit too close on the couch in the common room. 

Satoru was going crazy.

He loved Suguru. He wanted Suguru so bad. 

Suguru was inebriated when he said and did what he did, but… a part of him must want Satoru too, right?

It happened a week later.

They were sitting on Satoru’s bed, under a shared blanket, watching some movie on his laptop. Suguru had just showered and his hair was damp, making his scent all soft and sweet and clean. 

Satoru was not paying attention to the movie. His eyes kept flicking to Suguru’s face. 

At some point, Suguru shifted, their knees bumping under the blanket. Suguru had his hand on Satoru’s chest again as they made eye contact.

“I meant what I said that night,” Suguru said. “About wanting to kiss you.”

Satoru swallowed. “You were drunk.”

“I’m not now,” Suguru said softly, the movie continuing to play in the background as they stared at each other.

Suguru nibbled on his lower lip, hesitating for just a second before he leaned in. 

This time, when he kissed him, it was on the lips. There was no taste of alcohol on his tongue either. It was slow, Suguru’s lips pressing softly against Satoru’s like he was still deciding something. And Satoru… Satoru decided for him.

He kissed back hungrily, wanting to do this for a long, long time now. His hand slid up Suguru’s back, the other cupping his cheek, tilting him in closer, trying to put all his feelings into this one kiss.

When they parted, Satoru leaned their foreheads together.

“I’ve wanted to do that forever,” he admitted.

Suguru smiled. “I know.”

Things changed slowly from there. 

They kissed. A lot. In the mornings before class. At night, after brushing their teeth. Sometimes, in the laundry room while waiting for their clothes to dry. They’d find a corner in the library with the excuse to study, but one of them would end up tugging towards the other so they could kiss  each other slowly.

Satoru was so happy. He felt like he won something impossible.

They also started to touch each other more. He would rest a hand on Suguru’s thigh during study sessions, squeezing the meat of it. Suguru might play with his fingers as they held hands while waiting in line for coffee.

Suguru had started wearing Satoru’s clothes too, like taking naps in his hoodie or lounging in his sweatpants.

Satoru’s scent was all over him, and it made him want him even more.

One night, Suguru straddled Satoru’s lap while they made out in his bed, both of them breathing hard, tongues pressing against the other as they tasted each other. Satoru’s hands were under Suguru’s shirt, slowly massaging the muscles of his lower back. 

He always stopped before they went too far because he never wanted to rush Suguru, but fuck— he wanted more. 

When he was with Suguru, nothing else mattered. Not the Gojo legacy or how none of this was part of his grandfather’s plan.

All he could think about was how his fingers fit with Suguru’s perfectly.

And how in love he was with him. 

Suguru was the only one for him.

Each day and night passed in bliss. 

Every breath they stole from each other became a little more greedy. Satoru was starting to learn all of Suguru’s small signs and tells, like how Suguru tilted his head one way when he wanted more, or what the specific exhale or moan from his lips meant. 

Suguru’s potted plants bloomed on the sill, where the window opened a crack, letting in the scent of spring as their first year approached an end. Suguru was sitting on Satoru’s bed, long hair loose, as he crawled into Satoru’s lap, kissing him softly.

Satoru cupped his cheeks, sliding his tongue into his heat when Suguru made a quiet noise, swallowed by Satoru’s mouth, pressing closer until their chests touched. 

He couldn’t get enough of Suguru’s scent— now something sweet and sharp and green, like flower petals and rain. It filled his lungs and wrapped around his heart, and every time he kissed Suguru, his affection bloomed more fiercely inside him.

I love you, Satoru thought again and again, even as his mouth traced lower.

He kissed Suguru’s neck, just beneath his jaw. Kissed the pulse he felt there. Kissed the line of his throat and the edge of his collarbone. And Suguru let him, fingers tangled in Satoru’s shirt, head tilted back, breathing fast.

“Satoru…” Suguru whispered. 

Satoru palmed Suguru’s chest, feeling the way he trembled against him. He peeled his shirt off him, waiting for Suguru to protest. When he didn’t, Satoru’s shirt came off next.

He kissed every part of Suguru he could reach— shoulders, sternum, the space just beneath his ribs. Suguru’s fingers ran through his hair, tugging gently, guiding him back up to kiss him again.

Their hips moved without thinking, lazily grinding against each other in a way that drew quiet moans from both of them. 

Suguru was his.

Satoru wanted to press him into the mattress and never let him leave— 

He nipped at his collarbone, sighing against his neck as he inhaled Suguru’s scent.

Ever since he first laid eyes on him, he knew Suguru belonged to him. It was so ingrained inside of him, it felt like it transcended universes. 

He laid Suguru down on the bed, his hair fanned out across the pillow, blinking up at him, chest heaving. 

Just seeing him spread out like this for him… He knew it was crazy to think so, but he really, truly felt like Suguru was made for him.

Satoru leaned in and kissed him again— deeper this time.

Suguru made a soft sound into his mouth and arched, making Satoru groan as their hips touched. It sent heat rushing through his veins.

Their clothes came off one piece at a time. Satoru kissed his way down Suguru’s throat, his chest, every freckle, every scar. He spent extra care on the X-shaped birthmark Suguru had on his chest. He wasn’t in a hurry. He wanted to memorize this. Every dip and curve of Suguru’s body. The feel of his skin under Satoru’s lips. The way Suguru shivered when his hands skimmed over his waist. 

Suguru's scent was stronger now— that familiar scent of some flower Satoru was never able to name. It made him dizzy with want. 

He buried his face against Suguru’s neck, breathing him in.

This scent was his. This body— 

He kissed Suguru again, grinding against him, feeling his slick soak through the fabric of his underwear. 

Suguru was his— always, even if he never got to say it out loud.

Satoru didn't say the words that bloomed in his chest.

I love you. I’ve loved you forever. I think I’ve always been yours.

Because if he said it— if he actually explained the extent of his feelings— maybe Suguru would run. Maybe he wouldn’t believe him.

So instead, he poured his emotions into every touch. 

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he whispered.

“Don’t stop,” Suguru breathed.

When Satoru slid his hands between Suguru’s legs, fingers gathering up his slick, Suguru didn’t stop him. If anything, he encouraged him, moaning in his ear, hips rutting up into his hand, grinding against him until he came from his fingers alone. 

Satoru’s hand shook as he pulled back, staring at the shiny, sticky slick on his fingers, bringing it up to taste. Suguru made an embarrassed noise, but Satoru just groaned, wanting to taste him from the source. 

Suguru didn’t resist when he shed the rest of his clothes, crawling down the length of his body, only to hook Suguru’s legs over his shoulders, revealing his dripping hole to him.

“It’s embarrassing, Satoru,” Suguru said, hands covering his face.

“It’s not,” Satoru said in answer, tugging him closer until he caught his scent with each breath, practically tasting him through the air. Then he finally put his mouth right on his core, sucking and licking at his clit and slick until Suguru was shaking and moaning and trembling in his gasp, coming in waves, right on his tongue. 

When Satoru finally pushed into him— so slowly, and so carefully, trembling because he couldn’t believe it— he couldn’t believe it— he finally had Suguru— finally had his one and only— his whole world narrowed to the sound of Suguru’s voice catching in his throat.

And god, he was so warm and tight and so, so perfect. 

Suguru clung to him, legs wrapping around his waist, face buried in Satoru’s shoulder as they moved together. 

Satoru leaned down, taking one of Suguru’s peaked nipples into his mouth, sucking gently as he rocked against him, Suguru scraping lines across his back. He wasn’t going to last long, not the first time— because there would be another time. Dozens more. Hundreds. Satoru knew it. Suguru wanted him just as much as he wanted Suguru. He could feel it. He could tell based on Suguru’s scent. All hot and needy, and so, so pleased.

Suguru clenched around him tightly as he rocked in and out him with hard, shallow thrusts, ensuring the thick base of his cock nudged and rubbed against his clit, drawing high moans from his omega—

His omega, the words repeated in his head. Mine. He’s mine. One day, I’ll bite and mark him, and I’ll keep him with me. He won’t leave, not like before—

He hissed, driving his cock into Suguru faster and harder.

He wasn’t sure where that thought came from, but he couldn’t have it. Suguru was his, always.

“Fuck, Suguru,” he breathed, sucking on his mating gland, lapping at the oils that were leaking just as much as his cunt. “You taste so good. Feel so good. I want to have you like this forever.”

“Satoru,” Suguru sobbed, his muscles fluttering around his dick, fingers digging into his arms. “Please, please—”

“Anything you want, Suguru. Anything—”

He slammed their hips together, Suguru’s ankles shaking over his shoulders, driving his cock into him over and over until Suguru was spasming around him, milking him as he came inside, biting his shoulder— close, but not close enough to Suguru’s mating gland— 

I love you, I love you, I love you, he chanted in his head. Always. Forever, Suguru. My best friend. My omega— My one and only—

Suguru’s tears were running down the side of his face and into his hair. When they both had stopped trembling and were catching their breath, Satoru reached over and wiped them away, not understanding.

“Was it that good?” he asked, smiling softly.

Suguru was looking at him, eyes sparkling a bit. “Yes,” he said. “But also… I just… Satoru, you… sometimes I feel like you and I…” He trailed off, cheeks pink.

When it became obvious Suguru wasn’t going to elaborate, Satoru kissed his temple, then his lips.

He understood, because he felt it too. He knew Suguru felt their connection. Their bond.

Shoko had told him once that fated mates were just a myth, but how could his dreams of Suguru be evidence of anything but? 

He held Suguru like he was something sacred, because he was. He was special. 

Suguru curved his body around Satoru’s as they embraced each other, their bodies fitting like puzzle pieces that had been separated for too long. 

His scent filled every corner of Satoru’s mind until there was nothing else left.

Satoru felt like he had waited lifetimes for this.

Their first year of university passed quickly with late night takeout, more lectures and exams, but also tangled sheets and whispered laughter under the covers.

The following semester, they found a two bedroom apartment off campus with tall windows that let in a lot of light for all of Suguru’s plants. His collection seemed to grow and grow. 

It was technically a two bedroom, but that turned out to be more in theory than in practice, because Suguru ended up in Satoru’s bed more often than not. They never really talked about what they were, but he never thought they needed to. Satoru was greedy for him, and he would accept Suguru in any way he offered.

Suguru smelled like him all the time now. His soft florals mixed with Satoru’s earthy scent. It clung to his clothes, and also to the crook of his neck where Satoru liked to nuzzle. It clung to the silky strands of his hair, and… and Suguru smelled like he was his.  

It made something in his gut snarl with pride.

He never wanted it to go away.

Their intimacy didn’t slow down. If anything, they became even closer and more comfortable with their domesticity. Suguru would crawl into his lap in the middle of a study break and press soft kisses to the underside of Satoru’s jaw. Sometimes, when Satoru would come home late after a visit to the Gojo clan, he would find Suguru already asleep in his bed, waiting.

By the middle of their second year, their cycles started syncing. It was common for alphas and omegas who spent too much time together to fall into a rhythm. Fortunately, by that time, they were already nursing each other through their respective heats and ruts, but the overlap often meant their emotions were even more amplified. 

They tried to be careful. Suguru wore a thick collar during Satoru’s ruts— Satoru hated it— but it was better than sinking his teeth into Suguru’s throat while half out of his mind.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Suguru would say, flushed and panting as Satoru rocked into him, biting at any other exposed patch of skin he could. “You’ll feel awful if you bite me right now.”

Satoru was sure he wouldn’t regret it, but he would feel bad if Suguru didn’t want it.

So, the collar stayed on… 

But Suguru always tried to take it off during his heats when he was hazy and pliant and straddling Satoru’s hips with a glazed look in his eyes, his scent thick and dizzying like over-bloomed flowers. He’d grab at Satoru’s hands and beg, “Please… please, I want you to claim me. I want it. I want to be yours, Satoru. Alpha, please.” 

It gutted Satoru, because he wanted to. So fucking badly. Every cell in his body screamed for it.

But he couldn’t do it while Suguru was heat drunk— not if he would wake up and regret it.

So instead, Satoru would bury his face in the crook of Suguru’s neck, kissing the column of his throat around the collar, growling softly as he filled him again and again, stuffing him full with his knot.

You’re mine anyway, he thought, thrusting inside of him. Mine without a mark. Mine in body and soul.

By the end of their second year, everyone thought they were together. 

Fortunately, no one actually asked outright, because what would they even say?

No, we’re not together. We just sleep in the same bed. I wash his hair in the shower sometimes, and brush it out when he lets me. Blow on his fingernails after he paints them. He kisses me like I’m his oxygen and moans my name like a prayer. But no, it’s not official.

Even though it was official in his head.

There was no one else for him. There would never be anyone else.

One evening, after Suguru had fallen asleep tangled in his arms after he tired him out, all warm and sated and blissed out, Satoru slipped out of bed and walked over to his small dresser, opening the bottom drawer. Hidden under layers of socks, he pulled out a small box. 

The ring inside wasn’t the most extravagant piece of jewelry, but Suguru wouldn’t want anything gaudy. It was a thin band carved with swirling petals. He’d commissioned it from a private craftsman almost six months ago, and it had lived in the drawer ever since.

He didn’t know when the right time would be. Maybe after they graduated? Maybe during a trip? Maybe when they were old and wrinkled and still sharing a bed in some apartment filled with too many plants?

But it was always going to be Suguru.

His grandfather didn’t see it that way.

His clan tried multiple times across the last two years to change his mind. It was one thing after another:

“Your union with another established family could benefit the clan, Satoru.”

“You’re the only heir, and you’ve yet to make any formal arrangements.”

“You should at least meet with these suitors. You can still see your… friend, of course, but—”

“No,” he would grit out.

That was always his answer.

No, he didn’t want to meet them.

No, he didn’t care about the alliances.

No, he wasn’t interested.

No, no, no.

Satoru wouldn’t budge no matter how much they warned him or threatened him or pushed him, because the second he left those meetings, he went home to Suguru. 

He already belonged to Suguru.

The changes started slowly and somehow all at once. 

It was subtle at first. Suguru had started to pull away from his kisses quicker than usual, and when Satoru held his waist, it felt as though his fingers were inching closer together— like he was losing weight. 

Then Suguru started spending the night in his own bedroom. The one he hadn’t used once since they moved in. 

It made no sense, but Satoru made excuses for him in his head. Maybe it was because of upcoming exams and stress so he wanted to focus? People pulled away a little when they were busy. 

But Suguru’s scent was growing more and more bitter each day that passed, like he was confused and scared and lost. And that Satoru couldn’t explain away. 

By the middle of their third year, Suguru felt absent. It felt like he was avoiding him, skipping meals they used to go out of the way to cook together, claiming he had a study group or a club meeting when Satoru knew he didn’t. 

Then one night, Satoru came back home to see a suitcase near the entrance and a few boxes by the door.

His heart was pounding when he found Suguru packing away his hair care products. 

“What’s happening?” he asked. 

Suguru didn’t look up, but he stiffened a bit. “I’m moving out.”

The words didn’t register at first. 

“You’re… what?”

Suguru turned, grabbing another box. “It’s for the best, Satoru. We should—” He swallowed, biting his lip. “This thing between us… we need to stop.”

Satoru had never felt so confused. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. 

“Stop? What do you mean stop? Suguru, what the hell are you talking about?”

“We can’t do this anymore,” Suguru said quietly. 

“No— Suguru. What? No.” Satoru reached out for him, but Suguru stepped back. That made his heart clench. “Why are you doing this? Did I do something? Just tell me what I did wrong. I’ll fix it.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Suguru said, unable to meet his eyes. “This is just better.”

“Better for who?” Satoru snarled.

Suguru flinched, but didn’t answer. 

“ Suguru,” he said, his voice cracking. “Baby, look at me.”

Suguru did, and he looked tired. His scent… he was wearing a scent patch. He hardly ever wore a scent patch. He hated them. Even so, Satoru was able to catch hints of it, all sour and wrong. 

“Please,” Satoru whispered. “Talk to me. We can fix this. I’ll— I’ll change.”

“There’s nothing to fix.”

“Bullshit!” Satoru yelled, chest heaving. Everything inside him was fraying and unraveling.

Suguru— 

Suguru—

He couldn’t lose Suguru— Not again— Not in this world too—

In a last ditch grasp of desperation, he blurted, “I love you—”

His words rang in his ears. 

Suguru didn’t even look shocked. He just looked sad.

“I—” Suguru started, faltering, turning his head away, unable to maintain his gaze. “I don’t feel the same.”

Satoru felt something shatter inside of him. 

The entire world felt like it was tilting beneath him. That couldn’t be true. It wasn’t true.

Suguru loved him. He knew it. Felt it in every kiss, every moan, every late night whisper and soft smile and caress—

“No,” Satoru said, stepping forward. “Don’t lie to me, Suguru—”

But Suguru was already at the door, out of his reach. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. His eyes were glassy, his muted scent wrong, wrong, wrong— 

When the door clicked shut behind it, Satoru barely heard it past the ringing in his ears.

“I don’t feel the same.”

Suguru left. 

Suguru left him, and he took the warmth from Satoru’s heart with him. 

A few days had passed when Satoru started to feel a strange sensation in his chest. He figured it was the heartbreak. He had never known real heartbreak before… He felt grief when his parents passed, but this was different. He felt like he was being suffocated slowly. 

Every time he came home to his empty apartment, with Suguru’s scent lingering faintly in the sheets he refused to wash, he felt despair all over again. 

Satoru watered the plants Suguru left behind every morning. He would trim their dead leaves and rotate their pots, just like Suguru used to remind him to do.

He didn’t even know where Suguru was. He tried texting him, calling him, and messaging him on every app he could, leaving voicemails asking him to come back and talk to him, but they all went unanswered.

Still, Satoru waited.

Suguru couldn’t— wouldn’t— leave him. He knew their story wasn’t over. It couldn’t be.

But the days stretched on with still no sign of Suguru.

Satoru was walking through campus grounds when he finally saw him; Suguru was alone, his hair undone, hoodie hanging too loose over his body, and dark circles under his eyes.

Suguru saw him too.

Satoru opened his mouth to call out to him, but Suguru turned and walked away.

Satoru stood there, rooted to the ground. Suguru really ignored him like that, with no sign that he had ever once been in love with him.

Maybe he never was. Maybe what Satoru thought was true about their unspoken feelings was something he had made up this entire time. Maybe it was all a lie— all their kisses and laughter were fake. Suguru never loved him.

It made him sick.

He skipped class and went home. He tried to sleep, Suguru’s left-behind t-shirt in hand, but it was around two in the morning with his overactive brain thinking through everything he had experienced from childhood to now— thinking about how none of it was real— when he felt the tightness in his chest cinch, like something was lodged in his ribs. He sat up, coughing at first— then started hacking with sharp gasps, coughing and coughing until something wet and slimy fell out into his palm. 

He stared at it confused. The thing was soft and pale red. He pressed it between his fingers, trying to make it out. It felt like… a petal? He turned it over in his palm, brows furrowed. Had it fallen from one of Suguru’s plants into his food or something? He didn’t understand.

Gross, he thought, getting up to toss it in the trash. His chest ached just a bit, but he chalked it up to the stress.

It felt like his clan was trying to contact him more often, but he stopped answering their calls. 

He just didn’t care. All he did was drag himself to class and sit through lectures the best he could. He ordered takeout, letting the dishes pile up. 

His life just felt hollow without Suguru in it.

Despite how much he tried to take care of Suguru’s plants, even they looked a little more wilted than usual, leaves desperately reaching for the sun. 

He couldn’t stop ruminating on what Suguru said to him before he walked out of his life.

“I don’t feel the same.” 

Every time he thought about it— believed that Suguru didn’t love him— the coughing started. Sharp, hacking coughs that had him bent in half, gagging, throat dry and raw. After one particularly brutal fit, he staggered into the kitchen and hunched over the sink, feeling something thick stuck in his throat— 

He spit out another petal. 

What the fuck?

That time the other night felt like a one-off moment, but now? Did he have some sort of plant disease? Could people get weird infections from plants? Spores or pollen or something? Suguru would probably know. Suguru always knew stuff like that.

And that thought— Suguru would know, but Suguru wasn’t here— was enough to make his heart crack open again.

He gripped the sink edge as he spiraled. Suguru not answering his messages. Suguru avoiding him on campus. Suguru walking away. Saying he didn’t feel the same.  

He didn’t love me.

Another coughing fit hit him, and more petals followed. Not one, not two— three, four, maybe more. He couldn’t count them. He couldn’t breathe.

They felt like they were growing inside him, blooming in a place no flower should.

And oddly enough… the petals seemed to carry Suguru’s floral scent. 

He rinsed the sink and threw the petals into the trash.

He didn’t know what was happening.

He didn’t want to know.

Because the more he thought about Suguru— how he had smelled in the mornings, how he would curl against Satoru’s chest after his heats, how he had smiled at him— the more his chest ached. The more petals he coughed up.

He didn’t tell anyone.

Satoru’s rut was approaching. 

And that meant Suguru’s heat was due, too.

He didn’t want Suguru to be in pain, suffering through his heat all alone… but he also didn’t like the idea of some other alpha nursing him through it— touching him, scenting him, feeling him while he whimpered and begged—

His throat grew tight—

Then his phone buzzed. When he looked down, he saw Shoko’s name flashing on the screen. He almost ignored it, but something in his gut told him to pick up.

“Gojo,” she started speaking immediately. “Sorry if this is a bad time. I just… thought you should know… Geto—”

“What happened?” he couldn’t help but interrupt, sitting up straighter. “Is he okay?”

“He’s been staying with me,” she said. “But he’s not doing great.”

Satoru remembered those shadows under his eyes when he caught a glimpse of him the other week. “What do you mean?”

“You know his heat’s due soon, right?”

“Yeah.” His fingers curled tight around his phone. 

“Well,” Shoko sighed. “The school heat dorms are full this time. And Geto didn’t want to ask anyone for help, so… he booked a room in one of those sketchy off campus heat motels.”

Satoru’s stomach dropped. “No,” he said. “No, he didn’t.”

“I told him it was a bad idea. Tried to get him to change his mind. But he’s— he’s not in a good place, Gojo. I think he’s hurting more than he lets on. I don’t know what happened between you two, but... he’s not okay.”

Satoru stood, pacing the room. “He’s going to be in heat,” he said slowly. “In some shitty, unsupervised room. Alone.”

“Or not,” Shoko muttered darkly. “Those places don’t exactly have rules. You know that.”

His hands shook. He was angry. He was scared.

The idea of someone else even thinking about touching Suguru— with no one there to protect him when he couldn’t protect himself? 

It made Satoru feel feral.

“Where is he?” he asked, already grabbing his keys and heading towards the door. 

He found him outside a KFC.

It was past dusk by the time he tracked him down, half mad with fear, relieved to see he was still okay, heading in the direction of some heat hotel. 

It seemed Suguru sensed him, too, because he turned around, their eyes meeting.

He looked tired, pale, and thinner than before.

His scent was stronger than it should’ve been— making its way past the scent patch he wore on his neck. It smelled like the flowers Satoru had been coughing up, mixed with heat pheromones and grief. 

Suddenly, something about this moment felt familiar. The way Suguru stood across from him, people walking past them as they stared at each other. He felt like he lived this before— or dreamed it. Or… remembered it.

But he didn’t have time to linger on it.

Suguru’s scent was calling to him, sweet and sharp like a siren’s song. It was like an invitation and a plea all together, and Satoru’s own body was responding to it, his rut pheromones leaking out so thickly that it made passersby steer clear of them. 

“You can’t go there,” Satoru said, walking toward him. “Suguru— Suguru, you can’t.”

Suguru didn’t question how he knew of his plan.

“I’m not your responsibility,” Suguru whispered. “It’s not your job to—”

“It’s not a job,” Satoru interjected. “Not when it’s you. Don’t you get it? I haven’t stopped loving you, Suguru. I—I’ll never stop loving you.”

Suguru’s lower lip trembled.

“You don’t have to spend your heat somewhere unfamiliar,” Satoru said, stepping closer still. “You don’t have to go through this alone. You shouldn’t go through it alone.”

He hated seeing Suguru like this— all defensive and scared and fighting something Satoru didn’t understand. 

“Spend it in your nest,” Satoru said gently. “My den. Our apartment. Let me take care of you, like I always have. Let me be there for you. Please.”

Suguru was looking at him, a flicker in his eyes, like he was seeing beyond him. Beyond this moment.

Suguru had given him that look before— when they were children. When they first met by the flower bushes. When they were teenagers, laying in the grass behind school as they watched the clouds pass. As young men, while they were pressed together after making love—

Because it was love. Satoru was sure of it. 

Now Suguru was staring at him with that look again, like he knew Satoru’s soul.

“Okay,” Suguru said.

Satoru almost collapsed in relief. 

He didn’t wait a single second before he reached out, holding Suguru’s hand in his own to take him back home— to their home. 

Satoru was thinking of all the things he could say when they walked inside, but he barely had time to lock their door when Suguru kissed him, crashing their lips together in an open-mouthed embrace, tongues clashing against each other like they had been waiting for this moment since time began. 

Suguru kissed like he was trying to make up for the distance and the heartbreak that he put them through. His scent was like a blooming flower, wrapping around Satoru, sending a shiver down his spine. Their cycles hadn’t even fully hit yet, but they wanted each other on a primal level anyway.

Satoru’s shirt hit the ground first, Suguru’s next. They stumbled, hands touching each other all over, bumping against the wall, leaving them breathless when Suguru squeezed Satoru’s hardness through his pants, making him hiss.

“I want you,” Suguru pleaded. “I missed you.”

“You can have me,” Satoru said in response, ushering him backwards. “I’m yours.” 

They didn’t make it to the bedroom. Satoru pressed Suguru against the wall of the living room— the couch was only a few feet away, and the bedroom was just down the hall— but it all was suddenly too far. He was going to have him here. Here, with Suguru’s plants lined up along the windowsill watching over them like witnesses. 

“Say it’s okay,” Satoru breathed, forehead pressed to Suguru’s.

“It’s okay,” Suguru said, kissing him. “More than okay.”

Satoru took him right there against the wall, thrusting inside of him in one hard movement, head falling forward against the crook of Suguru’s neck as he groaned.

“Fuck,” he sighed, pausing just to relish in the feel of Suguru’s warmth— his heat-slicked sweetness coating his length as he rocked in and out of him. He tried to be gentle at first, but Suguru clawed at his back, whining and whimpering in his ear to go harder, faster— and how could he resist? 

They moved together like fire meeting oxygen— wild and feral, kissing each other harshly, Suguru’s legs wrapped around Satoru’s waist, his spine arching every time Satoru fucked him deeper. Suguru’s scent patch had fallen off somewhere along the way, and Satoru felt drunk on his uninhibited scent. 

“I missed you,” Satoru choked out, lips brushing against Suguru’s cheek, his neck, his shoulder. “God, I missed you so much—”

Suguru just held him tighter.

He rammed into his tight passage, one hand kneading his butt, as he licked and nipped at Suguru’s collarbone and neck, avoiding his precious mating gland, no matter how badly he wanted it. He could feel the way Suguru’s nails raked at his back, and it only made him grunt, increasing the strength of his thrusts.

“I want you like this forever,” he groaned. “I want you on my knot. I’ll keep you on my knot. Don’t leave me, Suguru. Please, please, don’t leave me.”

Suguru threw his head back, clamping around him as he came, slicking so much it leaked around Satoru’s cock, dripping down onto the floor. Breathing hard, they both collapsed onto the soft rug of the living room. Satoru didn’t wait long before he started thrusting again, propping Suguru’s hips up as he leaned over him, kissing him messily.

Mine, mine, he chanted in his head. He pressed his hand against Suguru’s belly, where he could have sworn he felt his hard length inside of him. Thin. Too thin. 

“Suguru, Suguru,” he whimpered, lapping up the oils along his gland. “I love you. I love you so much.”

He kissed his chest, listening to the rhythm of his heartbeat. 

Outside, the sky turned dark, the plants swaying to the soft breeze from the cracked opening in the window. 

Satoru slammed into him over and over again, taking everything Suguru was willing to give. He clawed at the ground as he felt a familiar sensation building inside of him, his knot starting to swell. He leaned down, licking his throat, fangs scraping dangerously against Suguru’s mating gland, and Suguru— that minx— tilted his head to the side to give him more access.

Satoru let out a pained sound from his mouth as he sunk his teeth into the meat of his shoulder instead.

Suguru came around him, tensing up crying out as tears leaked from his eyes. Satoru shoved his knot in as far as it could go, locking them together as he was forced to shallow his thrusts, but providing him no less pleasure. 

Suguru was moaning his name in his ear, holding on to him tight, his scent so happy and pleased that it sent him over the edge, growling as he released inside of him. Trembling as he came down from his high, he clung to Suguru, panting as he placed kisses over the bruises he left behind. 

“I love you, I love you,” he repeated over and over again. 

Suguru remained quiet, but his scent was telling.

He loves me. He loves me too, Satoru thought. He has to.

The rest of their heat and rut passed in a blur, and Satoru didn’t cough once.

A few days later, Satoru woke up to the sunlight filtering in through the windows of their bedroom. He remembered flashes of his rut— memories of him and Suguru fucking all over their apartment, lingering in the living room, to the couch, to the kitchen, a few more times pressed up against the shower walls, until they eventually ended up collapsed in their shared bed. The room smelled like them, Satoru and Suguru— intertwined and inseparable. 

It smelled like home.

Suguru was curled against him, exhaling softly against his chest. Satoru reached over to brush hair away from Suguru’s face when he saw it.

A bite mark right over Suguru’s mating gland. 

His breath caught in his throat as he drew his hand back, grazing against his own neck to feel the indents left behind by Suguru’s teeth. 

He’d been marked too.

He could feel everything click into place, just like he knew it was meant to be.

They were mated— connected on a soul-deep level, something he was sure would transcend time and space. 

He chose Suguru, and Suguru chose him back.

He smiled, brushing his thumb against Suguru’s cheek. My omega.

Suguru stirred awake then, blinking, smiling softly at him until his eyes drifted down to Satoru’s neck. Then his expression fell, panic taking its place. 

“We—” Suguru whispered, voice hoarse. “We marked each other.”

“Yeah,” Satoru said softly, heart thudding in his chest, suddenly scared of Suguru’s reaction. “We did.”

Suguru pulled away, sitting up fast, sheets pooling in his lap. “No. No, Satoru, we— we shouldn’t have— I shouldn’t have—”

“What are you talking about?” Satoru asked, sitting up with him. “Suguru, it’s okay. It’s more than okay. We’re—”

“We’re bonded,” Suguru said like it was a curse. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

Satoru swallowed tightly. “It was always meant to be. Us? Suguru, we’re always meant to be together—”

Suguru shook his head, hands shaking. “I shouldn’t have— I wasn’t supposed to—”

“Wasn’t supposed to?” Satoru didn’t understand. “Suguru, we’re mates. You're my omega, and I’m your alpha.”

Suguru’s eyes were shiny with unshed tears now. “This was a mistake.”

Satoru stood as Suguru scrambled to grab his clothes, trying to block the doorway. “Don’t do this, Suguru. Don’t run away from me. Not again.”

Not like last time. Not like in my nightmares. 

“I have to go—”

“You can’t,” Satoru shouted, louder than he meant to. “Not after this! Not after what we did.” His instincts were flaring, angry and confused, the bond between them pulling tight. “Suguru, we’re mated now. You can’t just leave— my body— my mind— Suguru, you’ll drive me insane. I can’t let you go.” 

“I have to!” Suguru nearly screamed, shoving past him.

Satoru grabbed his wrist.

Suguru froze— tears running down his face as he tried to glare at him. “Don’t,” he whispered, voice breaking. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be. You… Satoru, you would never hurt me.”

Satoru loosened his grip. “Just talk to me. Please.”

But Suguru shook his head again. “I wasn’t supposed to do this. I wasn’t— I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Then he was gone.

Satoru stood there for a long time, his body and heart hurting in a way he could never describe. Their mingled scent still hung in the air, and Suguru’s mark on his neck pulsed like an unhealing wound. 

He could feel their bond tugging at him, fraying at the edges like it was crumbling.

His chest hurt so badly, a tickle deep in his lungs that made him double over as he thought about it all.

Suguru really didn’t love him, did he?

He coughed.

If he did, how could he leave?

He coughed again, once, twice, until he was choking on something, gagging until something wet hit the floor.

A full flower this time. Not a petal. He finally recognized it. A camellia, reddish pink, and speckled with blood. 

The scent made his head spin. This was Suguru’s scent this whole time— the floral scent from a camellia flower.  

He touched his mouth, his fingers coming back slicked with blood.

He coughed again, harder this time, another flower spilling out onto the floor, followed by blood and mucus. Then another— more and more, as his lungs convulsed and throat burned. 

He couldn’t stop.

He collapsed to his knees, gasping, choking for air, as petals and stems and spit tinged with scarlet pooled on the hardwood beneath him. The air was perfumed with the scent of flowers. Camellias.

The same flowers he’d seen the first time he met Suguru. The same ones blooming in that little clearing beyond the Gojo gates. 

The same scent clinging to Suguru’s skin every time he held him close.

He left— he left, he left.

He doesn’t love me.

Satoru’s body answered with another violent cough. One after the other until he really, truly felt like he couldn’t breathe. He reached for his phone to send one text before his world went dark. 

In the darkness, he found himself at an airport, watching planes take off. Memories spread around him like an ink drop in water. 

He heard Suguru’s voice, and when he turned to look at him, he saw the teenage version of himself, wearing a uniform he didn’t recognize. Satoru reached out to tug on his bang.

“Suguru, want to go on this cool mission with me later?”

Suguru smiled. “You really need me? I thought you were the strongest.”

“I’ll always need you, Suguru.”

The water rippled, the sound of another plane taking flight in the background, as the dream shifted again.

They were in Yaga’s classroom—

Yaga? Who was Yaga?

Suguru was sitting beside him, taking notes diligently as he stared at the chalkboard. Satoru was too busy staring at him thinking, this person is mine. My best friend. My one and only.

The scene melted away, the glass window at the airport splintering.

He was staring at Suguru’s back outside that damn KFC— Suguru was leaving him. He was leaving him. And Satoru was supposed to stop him. He was supposed to stop him at any cost—

He held up his hand, purple glowing on the fingertips.

But— it was Suguru. It was Suguru. How could he…?

Suguru walked away.

The glass shattered completely, the planes in the sky veering off course.

Another memory— the most painful one.

Satoru stood above Suguru who was bleeding out from his injury as he leaned against the alley wall.

“I love you,” Satoru said, his throat tightening. 

Suguru laughed softly, smiling even as he sat there dying.

He didn’t say the words, but Satoru knew he loved him too.

The scene replayed in his head as he stood at the airport, screaming himself raw. He wanted another chance. He wanted Suguru fully, forever— 

He wanted a happy ending—

Suguru was his—

He was Suguru’s—

They were meant to be in every shape and form, in every universe. They were each other’s one and only.

He wanted another chance, please, please, please— 

Suguru showed up in front of him, holding out his hand.

“Want to take the next flight together, Satoru?”

Satoru didn’t hesitate when he took his hand. “With you, Suguru? Always.”

An annoying beeping sound woke him up, along with the strong scent of antiseptic.

His throat ached and his lungs felt sore as he blinked against the bright ceiling lights, squinting.

He sat up slowly, realizing he was wearing a thin hospital gown. 

Suguru, was the first thought that came to him. Suguru leaving.

He cleared his throat, already feeling it grow tight. 

His mark seemed to pulse as his heartbeat picked up, the monitor attached to him speeding up in tandem with its annoying, incessant beeping. 

“You’re awake.”

Satoru turned his head to see Shoko on a chair beside his bed, arms crossed, knee shaking. She was clearly concerned. 

“I got your text,” she said. “You didn’t say much, but something felt off. When I came over, I found you on the floor. You were—” She swallowed. “You were choking. On…”

She trailed off.

“Flowers,” Satoru finished for her, his voice gravelly, probably from how the stems tore at his trachea, he realized numbly. “What’s wrong with me?” he asked eventually. “What’s with the flowers?”

Shoko sighed. “You have hanahaki disease.” 

Satoru stared at her, confused. “Huh?”

“Hanahaki. It’s rare. Extremely rare. Mostly thought to be some kind of… psychosomatic omega legend, you know? But it’s real, apparently,” she said, looking stressed. “It’s real, and you have it.”

“I don’t get it,” he said honestly. “How did I get it?”

“It’s a disease that manifests when someone loves another person so deeply, but feels that love isn’t returned,” she said quietly. “You have so much love to give, and it has nowhere to go. Your body starts growing flowers in your lungs. Stems, petals. Like your grief is rooting itself inside of you.” She gave a dry, humorless laugh. “Stupidly poetic for something that can kill you.”

He didn’t know what to say. 

“You were suffocating, Gojo,” she continued. “When I found you, there were bloody flowers all over the floor. You were unconscious.” She looked at him, and her voice wavered. “Do you know how close you were to dying?”

He didn’t answer.

“Is this about Geto?”

He looked away, jaw tightening. “He left. He doesn’t love me.”

“You’re an idiot,” Shoko said. “And he’s a fucking liar.”

Satoru’s jaw clenched, fingers curling around the scratchy hospital blanket. 

“I don’t know what happened, Gojo, but there’s no way he doesn’t love you. I see that mark on your neck,” she said. “He claimed you.”

“He was in heat,” Satoru said hollowly. “He didn’t know what he was doing.”

Shoko shook her head. “You’re wrong.”

“Is there a cure?” he asked instead.

“There are only two ways,” she started, her mouth pressed thin. “One— you realize your love is truly returned. Like actually, genuinely believe it. Or two…” She hesitated.

“Shoko.”

“They operate,” she said with a sigh. “Remove the flowers. But, Gojo, it also removes your feelings. It would remove everything you love and hold dear about Geto.”

It took him a second to process what she said. “…What?” He couldn’t believe it.

“The roots of your love get carved out with the petals. You survive, but… you stop loving him. It’s not a cure— it’s an amputation.”

Satoru closed his eyes.

Suguru.

Their bond. Their home. His scent still soaked into Satoru’s sheets. The first time he laid eyes on him. Their childhood together. High school together. University, and living together. The first time they kissed and made love. Their marking of each other, even if it broke him. 

“I can’t,” he whispered. “I can’t lose him like that. I lost him in the past,” he said, realizing— finally coming to terms that those dreams he had must have been from some past life— some other universe. He lost Suguru then. He would not lose Suguru now, even if it was just his feelings and memories. 

Suguru would be the only one for him.

He had always been the only one.

My one and only, the words echoed in his mind.

He would rather die than lose Suguru.

Satoru continued to cough up flowers with blood-tinged stems and crushed leaves, mucus so thick sometimes he could barely breathe. 

Nurses came in often to help him through the episodes, rubbing circles on his back, giving him oxygen when the coughing stole too much of his breath. The flowers were taken away in biohazard bags.

Sometimes he’d whisper Suguru’s name between choking fits, but he never remembered saying it out loud.

Doctors came in too, trying to explain the different options to him, urging him to reconsider and get the surgery, but ultimately letting him know it was his choice to make. 

Satoru just spit out more camellia petals. 

Then one day, his grandfather walked into the room. Satoru glanced at him, but said nothing. 

At first his grandfather just stared at him. Then—

“Really?” the old man said. “All of this over that omega boy?”

Satoru just glared at him. 

“He’s nobody,” his grandfather said coldly, like he wasn’t standing at the deathbed of his only heir. “He doesn’t have a name worth keeping. He doesn’t have blood worth mixing.”

Satoru’s throat ached. A flower bloomed somewhere in his lungs. He whispered, “He’s my one and only.”

His grandfather’s face darkened. “So you’ll die, then?”

“Yes.” Satoru didn’t hesitate when he answered. “I’d rather die than lose even the memory of him.”

The old man stared at him for a long moment. Something flickered across his face— disappointment maybe? Or perhaps something closer to fear. Eventually, he turned without another word and walked out.

Satoru sighed, staring up at the ceiling, thinking how crazy it was that the flowers that were killing him also smelled like the man he loved. 

Satoru wasn’t sure how many days passed after that. 

He was resting when he caught the scent of camellias again, but it tended to cling to everything now with how much he was spitting them up. This scent felt different though, not tinged with an iron-y, bloody tang— it was soft and rich, and smelled… It smelled a little bit like him too. Like how he imagined Suguru’s scent would change after their mating—

"Satoru."

His heart rate picked up instantly, leaping into jagged lines on the telemetry beside him as his eyes snapped open.

Suguru.

Suguru was standing at his bedside, hair tied in a messy bun, eyes red and ringed in dark shadows, like he cried and rushed over here. 

The monitor continued to beep wildly in time with his pulse.

Omega— My omega. 

Suguru’s eyes went to the heart monitor, eyes wide, concern written all over his face.

“Satoru,” he said again, his voice cracking as he looked at him. “Why? Why would you…” 

Satoru’s throat felt dry and painful, but he smiled anyway. “Because I love you.”

Suguru’s breath hitched, his hands shaking. 

“You’re going to think I’m crazy,” Satoru rasped, his voice hoarse. “But I think I’ve loved you through multiple lifetimes, Suguru. You’ve always been mine. And I’ve always been yours.”

Tears gathered in Suguru’s eyes. “You’re dying,” he said. “You’re dying because of me. Because you think I don’t love you—”

Satoru’s stomach clenched at those words. Something inside him twisted, and before he could stop it, another cough wracked his body, his shoulders heaving. The taste of earth and iron filled his mouth as petals fell onto his lap, slick with blood. 

He cleared his throat, voice raw. “You… don’t.”

The heartbreak in Suguru’s face was immediate. “I said I didn’t feel the same,” he whispered. “Because I thought it would save you. That if I pushed you away, you’d be safe.”

Satoru was so confused. “Safe? Safe from what?” 

“Your clan came to me,” Suguru said, swallowing. “They told me if I didn’t end things with you, they’d disown you. They’d ruin you. Strip you of your inheritance, your name— your future. They said they’d make sure you lost everything, Satoru. And I knew they meant it.”

Satoru felt anger flare inside of him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t want to repeat the past!” Suguru cried out. 

They stared at each other in silence as Suguru’s chest heaved.

“Suguru…”

“I’ve been having dreams—” Suguru choked out. “Memories, I think? I don’t know, but I’ve been having them since I was a kid, Satoru. Before I met you. Dreams of us with powers. I dreamt…” He hesitated. “I saw death. That time… I ruined you. I left and you—” His voice cracked again, and he looked like he might fall to his knees. “You had to kill me.”

Satoru remembered it too. That version of Suguru— he was doing what he thought was right. What made him happy. It didn’t matter to Satoru the things he did, because he was always his.

“You didn’t ruin me,” Satoru whispered. “You never ruined anything. I was the person I was— I am the person I am— because of you. You made my life better, Suguru.”

Suguru bit his lip. “I just wanted this life to be different,” he said softly. “I wanted to protect you. I didn’t want to be the reason you lost everything.”

“I don’t care about any of that,” Satoru said fiercely. “Since when did any of that matter to me? Let them take it all. Let them strip everything from me. You’re the only thing that’s ever mattered, Suguru. You’re the only thing I can’t lose.”

Suguru leaned forward, his hand reaching out to grasp Satoru’s, their fingers threading together perfectly. 

“I love you,” Suguru whispered.

“You said you didn’t feel the same—”

“I lied.” Suguru shook his head adamantly. “I never stopped. Not once. Even if I never said the words out loud to you before, Satoru, I’ve always loved you. Before I even met you, I think.”

Satoru sobbed out a laugh, lifting his free hand to cup Suguru’s face, rubbing his thumb over the swell of his cheekbone. 

“You really came back to me.”

“I shouldn’t have left,” Suguru said quietly.

Satoru slid his hand down to slide his fingers along the mark he left on Suguru’s neck. “You’re mine, Suguru.”

Suguru nodded, smiling through the tears, angling his head closer so he could feel his breath.

“Wait—” he said, his voice a bit raspy. “I’ll taste like plants and blood.”

Suguru huffed out a laugh. “I don’t care,” he whispered, kissing him anyway. 

Satoru melted into it, tugging him closer so Suguru was forced to sit on the bed, kissing him deeply, pouring all of his love and adoration into it.

When they parted, Satoru asked, “Now what?”

Suguru pressed their lips together softly once more. “Now I stay.”

Suguru wasn’t kidding. He didn’t leave his side after that— not when the nurses came to change his IV or even when Shoko came to visit, pretending she didn’t snap a picture when she saw them curled up in the hospital bed together. He didn’t leave even when Satoru had another coughing fit in the middle of the night when he had a nightmare that none of it happened— that Suguru didn’t really confess. 

“I’ve got you,” Suguru whispered, rubbing his back. “I’m here. I love you, Satoru. Remember that.”

Satoru learned at some point it wasn’t Shoko that had told Suguru of his whereabouts, but his own grandfather. 

“Guess he would rather you be with a nobody than have you die,” Suguru had said one day after the nurses had taken his vitals.

“You’re not a nobody,” Satoru said, letting Suguru feed him a spoonful of his breakfast. His appetite had finally returned now that Suguru was back with him. “You’re everything to me.”

He was discharged home not long after that, after imaging confirmed the flowers in his lungs were receding. 

Because Suguru loved him, he would remember with glee.

“Why are you snickering to yourself?” Suguru asked that night while they were laying in bed.

“You love me,” Satoru said, rolling over to press a kiss to Suguru’s neck, right over his mating gland. “You love me and we’re bonded and you’re stuck with me forever.”

Suguru laughed.

One morning, weeks after Satoru’s hospitalization, Suguru crawled back into bed after watering his plants.

Satoru asked him then, “Why didn’t you get it?”

“Hm?”

“Hanahaki disease,” he clarified. “Why didn’t you get it?”

Suguru looked at him, his eyes soft. “I knew you loved me. I didn’t doubt it for one second. I’m sorry I made you feel otherwise—”

Satoru shook his head, hushing him, tugging him close. “Suguru, it’s okay. I know now.”

“They’re camellias,” Suguru murmured after a while. “The flowers you were coughing up.”

“I know,” Satoru said. “Well, I didn’t at first. But I figured it out eventually. You smell like them, did you know?”

Suguru hummed, staring at him with a twinkle in his eyes. “They mean longing.”

Satoru smiled faintly. “Sounds about right.”

“Longing and love and adoration.”

Satoru nodded thoughtfully. “All true.”

Suguru leaned in, kissing him. “I don’t deserve you.”

Satoru wrestled him under the blankets, peppering kisses all over his cheeks and lips. “Don’t say that. We were made for each other. Now say it.”

“Say what?” Suguru laughed, ticklish. 

“Say you love me,” Satoru said, nipping at his mating gland, earning him a low moan.

“Satoru!” 

“Say it!” he said, running his fingers down his sides until Suguru was giggling and squirming under his hold. 

“I love you,” Suguru said eventually, catching his breath. “I love you. You’re my alpha. The love of my life. This life, and all the ones before and after.”

Satoru closed his eyes, resting his head against Suguru’s chest just to listen to his heartbeat. “Again.”

“I love you,” Suguru said, running his fingers through his hair, one adorned with the custom ring he had commissioned so many months ago.

Satoru sighed happily. “You’re my one and only, Suguru.”

“And you’re mine.”

And outside, in a new windowsill planter, camellias bloomed.