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“mornin’.”
“and good morning to you, too, love. how are you feeling? you seem exhausted.”
suguru lifts a hand, pawing at the sparse hairs along satoru’s jawline as he yawns. he looks about the same as he has for the past five, six months; dull, sunken eyes adorned with crescents of dark circles that could honestly rival shoko’s if they tried; a sort of softness in his body, his facial features, even his posture that seems less voluntary than he lets on; at its lengthiest, his hair spills just a little further down, resting just past his nape. the blue depths of his irises have lost their glow — which is fairly plausible, suguru thinks, given satoru is on orders not to be using any sort of technique for now, but he can’t help imagining it’s likely due in part to an onset depressive state satoru’s been sinking into lately.
“i am.” satoru couples the twitching of the corner of his mouth with an amused snort. it quickly falls back into neutrality as he scratches at an itch in his neck, dull fingernails gliding over soft skin. skin that, suguru notices, is being exposed as satoru’s arm comes to rest at his side — the collar of his oversized vermilion sweater is, as usual, slipping down his shoulder. in the spaced-out moment it takes for satoru to notice, suguru beats him to it, hooking his fingers under the soft material and laying it in its correct position. regardless, he and satoru both know that sweater is just as stubborn as its wearer and will fall off again. “is it because you aren’t getting enough sleep lately? you tend to wake up pretty frequently in the middle of the night.” he pats satoru’s shoulder. “oh! are you hungry? i can get breakfast started for you. the twins will come hollering about it anyhow.”
satoru hums, a long, low sound that barely grazes suguru’s eardrums. he’s had a larger appetite than usual lately, and that is mostly the fault of their baby, who is safely tucked away just underneath his skin. well, and a few layers of fat and muscle, if suguru must go into specifics, but frankly he doesn’t really want to think about his lover’s innards because that’s kind of nasty. so he shelves that away for a later date and pats satoru’s stubbly cheek. it’s very likely that he is considering food, and he only confirms this theory with a softly murmured okay as he allows suguru to guide him to the dining table. his movements are so opposite to how he usually is; on an average day, one would see him erratically rattling off his latest discoveries about the most niche things he happened to pick up an interest in, or quite literally jumping at the opportunity to ditch the paperwork and sneak off with suguru or one of their mutual friends [or both, if he’s lucky] to grab a bite. lately, he’s quieter, daresay shier, and the way he moves is drenched in thick, unforgiving lethargy.
“do you have anything in mind? anything at all,” suguru offers, rubbing satoru’s neck. much to his boyfriend’s chagrin he departs for just a moment to peek inside the door of their refrigerator; the lack of foods with any sort of nutritional value reminds him that they really need to take care of the groceries. he frowns.
“i don't know,” satoru replies, clearly downtrodden. suguru watches him trace the grooves in the table with a finger. he seems intently focused on that and not the question, so suguru decides to close the refrigerator door and rearrange some of the magnets, just to give himself something to do. he pins one of nanako’s doodles in a column away from their everyday reminders, nestled among several other childlike drawings of the sort. he’s particularly fond of the one in which she’s drawn him with several overlapping crayons, claiming everyone was using all the colors, so, sorry you’re green, papa. he is not upset with being green. not the appropriate brown, but green isn’t all that bad.
after having a chuckle to himself about that, he picks up a sigh in the air between him and satoru and, naturally, gravitates toward it. satoru pats the chair next to him. “you have something you wanna talk about?” suguru asks, which is answered with an awkward, weary nod. he takes his seat and folds his arms over each other, balanced by the sturdy wood of the table.
“i feel kind of…” satoru starts, rolling his head to one shoulder and narrowing his eyes just a smidge. all is silent between that and his next breath, save for the ticking of the clock on the wall and the whistling breeze outside. suguru doesn’t dare divert his attention from him. “i guess i don’t really know how to bring this up, so i haven’t. but i feel sort of… useless? lately? and, uh, that isn’t really your fault, and it isn’t mine — it isn’t anybody’s-” he pauses and laughs to himself. “well, i suppose it kind of is half your fault. this doesn’t usually happen on its own, y’know.”
suguru, feeling a twinge in his stomach, immediately counters that with “come on now, let’s stay on topic.”
“i know that! i know that,” satoru waves a dismissive hand, earning a dry laugh from the both of them, “it’s half mine, too. see, i can be a responsible adult and recognize my mistakes. what i’m saying is just that… i don’t know. it’s really weird and complicated and i don’t think i have the energy to get into it.”
suguru ponders that for a while — well, a while in satoru time, which is really only about thirty seconds. but, nonetheless, during that time, he thinks over satoru’s words. he’s certain that that feeling is rational, being made to live life during his pregnancy as if he weren’t born with the capacity for jujutsu at all; something about how it could potentially cause harm to the baby and subsequently himself, and both of them know satoru is prone to overexerting his body, pregnant or not. that wasn’t the most fantastic news either of them had ever heard, considering it would result in satoru ultimately becoming a temporary stay-at-home-dad whilst suguru takes over the hefty job of being the breadwinner. frankly, suguru isn’t very fond of this arrangement; he’s been stretched thin going out on missions and he knows satoru’s not getting his proper enrichment being cooped up at home with nothing but two — eventually three — children. evidently, satoru agrees.
he tries, after some thinking, “well, why don’t we start with the basics? tell me why you feel that way— er, well, what you mean by useless in the first place.”
satoru cocks his head, then nods. “i suppose i just wanna be able to do something, yeah? i’m too tired to do most chores, and i can hardly walk in a straight line with all this extra weight on me, my back is killing me, and i’m so anxious and moody and i keep having these awful thoughts and i-”
“okay, okay! hold on. little slower this time. you know i can’t keep up with all that.”
“right, yeah. okay. uhm.”
satoru scratches at his chin, feeling at each whiskery hair. “i guess… no, i know i don’t like doing this every day. being, like, a housewife, almost. i want to be able to get out there and do things, and… and go back to work with you, but i’ve got, what, three-ish months to wait before i can even consider that? that’s a whole quarter of a year! and that’s not even considering one of us is gonna have to stay home and look after the baby, because, much as i love our girls, i do not trust them with a newborn. hell, i hardly trust myself with one!”
a short, amused huff escapes suguru’s nose at that last bit. he straightens up in his seat, arms folded over his chest as he contemplates. splotches of gold and orange and soft crimson outside the window are swaying in the breeze, sunlight filtering through and into the dining room where the two of them are sat. he thinks to himself that the weather really is lovely, and he does need to go get groceries…
“tell ya what,” he proposes as he leans forward and places his chin in his palm. “the fridge looks real sad right now. like, sadder than you. i mean that very lovingly, by the way,” he adds sheepishly as satoru’s eyes flicker with very reasonable annoyance. “i was thinking i have to go run some errands anyways, and you wanna get out of the house, so… wanna come with?”
“for errands?” satoru frowns. “i mean, that’s important and i would like to have food, but… i was kinda hoping it might be something more fun. i guess.”
“grocery shopping can be fun if you make it,” suguru says matter-of-factly.
“yeah, alright, grandpa,” satoru retorts with a faint smirk.
suguru laughs, but he really does want to help here. after all, the whole thing is a win-win situation, right? satoru gets to be elsewhere, and they both get food so they and their kids don’t starve to death. easy-peasy, right?
“more fun,” suguru echoes, quieter and moreso to himself than satoru. come to think of it, since it hasn’t been too cold and it’s not scheduled to rain this week, he could probably arrange something. a walk, perhaps? that’d be lovely; a little afternoon stroll with one antsy gojo satoru sounds like a decent enough way to kill some time, based on previous experience.
“what if we go out, then?” he suggests. “just the two of us. we could ask someone to watch the girls and go for a walk?”
“oh…” satoru replies, as if that hadn’t been something he’d ever considered. well, it probably had, but he might have had to veto it for a few waddly reasons. “you know i get tired quicker now, though. and, uhm, it’s kinda hard to walk.”
“it doesn’t have to be hard. ah, you know what, we could have a little date at the park, if that works? there are benches, so you could sit down for a while if you need to.”
“mornin’, papa,” comes a much smaller, much higher-pitched voice from the other side of the room. “mornin’, dad.”
the two of them are pulled out of their conversation to acknowledge nanako, who is sleepily making her way toward her fathers. she’s followed by mimiko, voodoo-doll-esque plush grasped firmly in her hand as she rubs her weary eyes. nanako makes silly grabby hands and suguru is forced by way of fatherly affection to lift her up, hands hooked underneath her armpits, onto his lap. she lays her head on his chest and he finds himself absentmindedly stroking strands of artificial blonde. satoru reaches over the table and tucks a lock behind her ear.
“what’s for breakfast?” mimiko asks, squeezing her eyes shut as satoru ruffles the tumble of brunette pouring off of her head. he seems rather satisfied with the smoothness combing it back out rewards him with. reassured, even.
suguru sighs, “well, we don’t have much right now, so i was thinking we should all head out and run some errands anyways. say, what do you two think about going to the playground a little ways from home?”
both girls perk up, but shortly nanako is grumbling about how she’s hungry again. clearly, there’s an order in which this all needs to go, so suguru spends some time racking his brain and silently conversing with satoru — or, attempting to, as he’s forgotten satoru isn’t great with body language. he works out the kinks and plans everything accordingly, and when he has it sort of sketched out he clears his throat. “okay. i’ll handle breakfast, and then we’ll go to the park, and then groceries. i think we’ve got enough for all of us, just for now.”
satoru seems much more engaged now, having been given a schedule. he’s regained that childish twinkle in his eye, suguru can tell, even if it’s only temporary.
★★★
it’s kind of mandatory that suguru takes over driving duties, what with satoru’s recent tendency to nod off. though he tries his best to keep his eyes on the road as he should, he can’t help the occasional worried glance at the man in the passenger seat. he’s idly rubbing his bump — which is a habit he’s picked up lately, doing it so often suguru’s sure it’ll persist even after the baby’s born — and staring out the window, watching a copse of trees crawl by. the gentle, warm colors of leaves suspended from each branch look much prettier here, where touching them isn’t such a far-fetched idea.
so suguru parks somewhere, just a little ways from the playground. the first to scramble out of the car are the twins, who are firmly told not ro run off too far thanks to their very exhausted father. he has a little more difficulty making it out, to which suguru offers a hand and helps him plant his feet on the ground. the grateful shine on satoru’s face isn’t lost on him for even a second.
the four of them spend a little while at a bench, with suguru instructing the girls to stay within his line of sight. they nod in diligent agreement. nanako then makes a beeline toward the swingset, followed by a protesting mimiko.
suguru leans against the bench’s backboard, closing his eyes for a minute or so. it’s been far too long since he — or any of the rest of them, really — have gotten to just relax and enjoy a sunday afternoon, let alone even a sunday. he isn’t sure what to do with his hands, so he just messes with the skin of his knuckles for a while.
as always, his thoughts overlap one another in a confusing amalgamation of one unfinished idea connected to three larger concepts connected to four, five, maybe even six reminders of things he should be doing right now. he should be grading student reports, or sternly informing yuki that she’s his coworker and needs to take her job seriously, or out on a week-long mission away from satoru and the kids on orders to exorcise a special-grade, or, or… or something like that. see, it’s not really connected the way he’d like it to be; it all tends to collect together like a communal watering hole, in which his brain is the oasis and all of his ruminations are the thirsty tongues of animals, all desperate for some respite from the heat. it’s a bit of a strange way to think about it, really, but if there’s a better explanation, please, he’d like to hear it.
regardless of how he explains this irritating something, all of his thoughts eventually collaborate in herds and travel right back to the one subject he doesn’t want to be thinking about right now, which happens to be his job. he hadn’t quite imagined there’d be a point in time in which he’d take over the position of being a teacher at his own alma mater, tokyo jujutsu technical college — or jujutsu high, or whatever. it has too many names to count. point is, this is a strange situation to be in; he’d thought, when he was younger and overcome with a darkness that probably would have killed him if satoru hadn’t been there that evening, he might as well leave it behind and forget anyone ever existed. of course, this “anyone” also included himself. the pathways of conscious thought could often become so overwhelming his head would pound as if trying to purge itself of the ability to think at all.
and then, there’s satoru, at the very peak of his worries. satoru, who was working alongside him for some time, clearing out the schedules of their co-workers since he decimated half the curses they were sent to exorcise in mere seconds. satoru, who fell pregnant back in april and had to take maternity leave on the account of it being too dangerous for him to continue working in that state. and sweet, worn-out satoru, who is resting his head on suguru’s shoulder and chewing his lip and biding his time, waiting for his boyfriend to speak first. at least, that’s what suguru imagines is happening in his brain.
he’s in the middle of chewing on his own words when satoru murmurs, “the weather’s nice today, isn’t it?”
“huh? oh, yeah,” suguru blinks. he watches satoru picking at a loose string sprouting from the hem of his sweater, settles his nearest arm round his shoulders. satoru seems to apply himself to suguru’s side as a result of this, heaving the softest of sighs in the process; eyelids flutter shut and downy lashes settle upon his rounded cheek. suguru can’t help noting his beauty as it presents itself to him, drowsily so.
he’d expected satoru to have fallen asleep, but a soft muttering under his breath tells him otherwise. “hm?” he prompts.
“i said,” satoru huffs in mild frustration at apparently having to repeat himself, “do you think we could talk? just the two of us?”
“sure, but i kind of need to make sure i can see the girls.” suguru glances in the direction of the playground, watching as nanako teasingly chases mimiko around the swingset, shouting i’m gonna get you! she does not, in fact, get her, as mimiko is much faster than she looks, but it's certainly a bold try. satoru rubs at his own knee. “well, yeah, but you’re good at multitasking. besides,” he sits upright, stretching out his arms, “this kinda feels the same as it does at home, except, like, it’s colder. and i’m feeling up for a stroll now.”
suguru cracks a small smile and pushes himself off of the bench with satoru behind him. there are around ten or twelve pads between the two of them before suguru hears the frantic stampede of eight-year-old footsteps approaching; he ruffles nanako’s hair as she stops in front of him. “yeah? did you need something, babe?”
nanako tilts her head, a frown forming on her little face. “are we leaving already?”
satoru chuckles to no one in particular. “not yet. your father and i are going to talk about boring adult stuff. nothin’ you’ll really care that much about.”
nanako shrugs at a trailing mimiko before both of them go scampering off again, laughing and playfully slugging one another. suguru swears he catches a glimpse of a smile in the corner of his eye as he turns his nose back to satoru.
there’s an unintelligible span of time, as they walk, packed full with stolen glances and soft, heartfelt conversation. somewhere along the way, satoru nudges the back of suguru’s hand with the knuckles of his first three fingers.
locking their hands or arms or legs or whatever else possible around one another’s has never been a challenge for either of the two, and it certainly isn't in this very moment. suguru swings their woven hands a little bit as they walk, like he would when they first started dating back in high school and satoru’s sweet tooth would terrorize suguru’s wallet with each café visit. it certainly took a beating, but honestly, who wouldn’t blow money on a guy like that? besides, he always paid him back, no matter the cost. mostly through weird little gifts and trinkets — especially odd rocks he’d found on the side of the road or souvenirs from missions — but he did.
“you know,” satoru starts, squeezing suguru’s hand, “i’m not sure i ever thought of this as a possibility.”
“what, having a baby on the way?”
“with you? nah, never. well, i figured we’d end up together, sure, but not with a kid. let alone three, but, y’know, adoption’s different.”
suguru repays satoru’s hand squeeze. “i didn’t really imagine this, either. it just sort of happened, i guess. but i’m not… distressed about it? anymore? i feel fine.”
“i’m anxious, as always,” satoru jokes. “oh, speaking of adoption, i called my mom the other day kinda-sorta snivelling about it, mostly ‘cause i’m not used to this whole thing. forgot we are… not related...”
barking a laugh, suguru swings their hands again. he notices satoru wincing and delivers a swift apology in the form of a kiss planted on his cheek. suguru doesn’t mind the scratchy texture against his lips, not for now. the crisp breeze picks up for a minute, swaying both heads of hair with it.
satoru pokes suguru’s bicep a couple of times. he asks, borderline whimpers, “do you have your bag on you?”
ah, that’s right. if suguru hadn’t reminded himself enough, satoru has more than a few sensory issues, which he usually aids with the shield of infinity; he’ll erect a barrier between him and a texture he can’t stand, or use it as a makeshift pair of headphones, or something else along those lines. this problem is also why he’s so often using a blindfold or shades, because having so much of his energy focused in his eyes causes a lot of sensitivity.
replacing his senses with temporary jujutsu is the one thing he can’t do right now, unless they make a few accomodations.
suguru has the both of them stop at a lone tree, searching through the bag previously slung over his shoulder. he’d forgotten it was there entirely, partly because he’s been rather distracted today — more than usual, really — and partly because he’s been focused on satoru instead. a transparent plastic box appears nestled in his palm and practically gives itself to satoru; he has one hand on one ear and the other already prying the box open as soon as it’s in his possession. the whole thing is kind of impressive, but he starts fumbling with it as he becomes more urgent and suguru balances the bottom of it whilst satoru digs a pair of earplugs out. he relaxes instantly as he stuffs one into each ear.
“better?” suguru combs his fingers through a sea of white.
“it’s good enough,” replies satoru. “ah, what was i saying? i had a point.”
suguru blanks, repeatedly snapping his fingers. “something about your mom?”
“that’s it. that’s right, i, uh, tried asking her about this whole thing and she told me somethin’ like,” he pitches his voice up for comedic effect, mimicking a woman’s, “‘oh, satoru, you silly boy, you and your sister are adopted, remember?’”
a leaf flutters downward and lands squarely at suguru’s feet. he stares at it. “right, right. you three are so much alike i sort of forget, too, honestly.”
“alright, riko and i are nothing alike.”
“see, she’d react the exact same way if i said that to her.”
“hush! shut up!” satoru playfully smacks suguru’s arm. “i’m trying to have a heartfelt and deep discussion with you right now! take my suffering seriously!”
suguru nods. the intentions of the action are lodged somewhere between genuine empathy and his natural affinity for teasing, but the former sort of takes over upon seeing an uncharacteristically embarrassed red paint satoru's face. “i’m just saying, like… i don’t really think anyone else you or i know have done something like this, so i’m kind of… lost. well, besides my birth mother, but you know damn well i’m not talking to her. obvious reasons.” he quiets down for a heartbeat, and then, softly, “i’m surprised you can even put up with all of this.”
“i ‘put up’ with it just fine,” suguru reassures him. he tucks a loose tuft of hair behind satoru’s flushed ear whilst satoru readjusts the collar of his sweater for the umpteenth time today. suguru’s beginning to think he should just leave it alone, especially as it slips down immediately after. satoru finally ignores it in favor of placing his hand on his stomach again.
“i know,” he breathes, “and i’m grateful you do.”
the hand is dragged gently along the knitting of his sweater. suguru feels a chilled something prodding at his arm, lifts it to watch satoru’s other hand snake around his tricep and cup him. the feeling isn’t alien; satoru’s done this once or twice or thrice as they’ve grown up, but really, never that often. he tends to hold onto suguru in the more intense moments with him, he’s noticed. “it’s maybe a little worrying that i don’t have much to go off of.”
“you’ll be fine,” suguru blurts, unexpected even to himself. “i mean, you’re… you. you’ve always survived through the toughest things, satoru. even back in jujutsu tech when we both got all scarred up on that one mission, remember? you saved my life and you saved your own. you’re tougher than you think.”
“i think we’re gonna need a sap meter for every time you speak to me, suguru.”
“hey, i’m being serious!” suguru cracks a smile, causing a chain reaction in satoru. “i love you, y’know? doesn’t do either of us any good if you’re having doubts about your abilities this far along.”
just then, something makes itself at home on the crown of suguru’s head. satoru stifles a giggle as suguru produces another leaf in his hand, this time golden except for the bright red striations in its skin and gradient emerald at the tips. he taps the side of satoru’s head, beckoning him to turn it, and slips it stem-first into his hair. “what a romantic,” satoru snorts, pressing the pads of his fingers to the leaf’s scarlet veins.
“it complements your outfit, i think,” murmurs suguru in return. satoru smiles.
everything is quiet, save for the excited shrieking of their daughters as they play something like ‘sea monsters’ — suguru only caught bits and pieces while conversing with his boyfriend — on the equipment. every now and then, one of them will notice their parents watching and wave, all gap-toothed grins and wild, gangly limbs. sometimes another child will be brought into the game, but nanako insists on being the sea monster whilst her sister and the other recruited kids absolutely must be the terrorized ship crew. ah, well. the girl’s always been a little tyrant.
suguru enjoys the domesticity of the quiet; it’s a breath of fresh air in contrast to his job and, really, he couldn’t ask for more. here, he has his children and their father, and all of them seem relatively at peace like they do at home. perhaps they should do this more often, he thinks, when they have the time.
he’s not sure when satoru requested to sit down underneath the tree, but at some point he did and suguru finds himself with his back against the bark and both of satoru’s arms around his, cheek pressed into his shoulder. somewhere along the way he shrugs off his jacket and tucks it around satoru’s shuddering body, who happily accepts the gesture with an affectionate cuddle. suguru’s chest is filled with warmth.
then, putting a crack in the intimacy of the moment, satoru sniffles. “allergies?” suguru assumes. “i brought, uhm, medication for that, if you need it.”
satoru’s voice sounds like the roll of an ankle after a wayward step; less coordinated, falling out of line, introducing itself with a crack. he moans. “you really did think of everything…”
“…are you alright?”
“yep. all good over here.” thumbs-up. “don’t worry about me.”
easy for satoru to say; suguru’s always worried about him, especially considering recent events. that aside, satoru is generally a worrying individual. he’ll put up infinity and insist nothing can touch him — he was proven wrong before. his hubris is just as delicate; one word can shift his mood to the left for an entire day.
“hey.” mildly alarmed, he turns and pats satoru’s arm. “are you okay?”
“oh, my god,” satoru shudders, “fuck, man, i’ve never felt better. i’m so happy.”
“oh,” suguru blinks. he takes it upon himself to envelop him in a firm yet tender hug, though unsure what to say. satoru snuggles impossibly closer, as if he’d rather merge his body with suguru’s own then remain two separate beings; all the while he’s dribbling snot and shuddering breaths and wet, sticky lashes.
suguru holds him for the duration of his tears, wiping a thumb over a swiftly shut eyelid. he pecks satoru's forehead, to which satoru grinds out another elated sob. the man chokes, “this is so embarrassing,” between his weeping. his own words elicit a laugh from his chest. “if only you could feel this right now. i have everything i’ve ever wanted, right here in my red-sweatered arms.”
suguru is unable to stop himself from letting out a laugh of his own, and so he joins satoru in his merriment. “kiss me,” is the soft-spoken warning he receives before satoru’s lips are on his in a jovial marriage of, not gojo and geto, the strongest sorcerers of today, but satoru and suguru, a couple of idiots who just figured out how to live on their own. the latter man tosses all of that worrying aside to be himself in the moment, fingers woven between satoru’s. neither are sure who declared his fondness for the other first, but satoru’s buried his head in suguru’s chest and suguru’s got his mess of a boyfriend wrangled in his hands and satoru repeats, over and over, “i love you, i love you, i love you.”
once it’s over, and it is within several minutes, satoru whispers “thank you for taking me here.”
“it’s nothing,” suguru insists. satoru shakes his head, sucking snot back into his nostril on instinct. “i haven’t had time with you like this since before i took maternity leave, i… it really means the world to me that you still want to go on little dates like this with me.”
“even if it includes the girls,” suguru chuckles.
satoru presses his cheek against suguru’s chest and inclines his head skyward. he observes suguru through clumps of white and snickers. “right, them too. but i just… appreciate that you had me in mind for this. seriously. i love you.”
suguru relishes the sound of his voice. the pair rest tangled in each other’s arms; satoru closes his eyes and breathes quietly through his nose; suguru smiles to himself. he clears satoru’s bangs from his forehead and replaces them with a gentle peck. “i love you, too.”
★★★
“dad, why is she ugly?”
a fit of hoarse laughter.
“nanako, don’t be mean!”
frankly, suguru is sort of in a trance after the last collection of hours, acknowledging nothing but the chubby little bundle resting sleepily on satoru’s chest. her skin is noticeably darker than her father’s, but still much lighter than suguru’s, resting comfortably in the middle. her head is coated in such a snowy black suguru wonders if satoru’s genes tried at all. he attempts laughing to himself, but it comes out a lot more watery than he would have liked.
unfortunately, satoru immediately takes notice. “you okay?”
i should be asking you that, suguru thinks. there is an effort to relay that to satoru aloud, but again, it sounds more like the beginning of a sob than a hearty joke.
he’s going to cry.
he watches his daughter shift ever so slightly underneath the gentle stroking of her father’s hand. of course satoru is suited to parenthood, he’s been raising the twins with suguru, practically since they were seventeen. of course he’s looking at her with so much affection in his eyes as he touches her hair. of course he regards her with the same sweet smile he saves for their girls, for suguru.
oh, he’s seriously going to cry. right there, in front of his boyfriend, in front of his kids, in front of their newborn daughter. the irony that he, an adult man, is on the verge of sobbing over seeing his child for the first time instead of said child, is not lost on him. it probably won’t be for the next few years. maybe ever. “i’m so…” he half-answers, placing his hand over his mouth.
nanako decides now is the time to tilt her head and ask him, “papa, why are you crying?”
well, if he’s going to cry, it might as well happen. a tear marches from the duct down the span of his cheek, and then another, and before any of them know it he’s a complete mess. nanako and mimiko both look rather startled, but satoru’s still smiling that sweet smile, like he understands him. honestly, suguru himself doesn't even really know why this is happening, why he’s the one losing it over seeing a baby. maybe satoru’s more in tune with him than he remembers.
“i’m in love,” suguru confesses. “look at her, satoru, she’s… oh…”
“her name’s yumemi,” satoru announces, patting an empty stretch of bed beside him with an unoccupied hand. suguru takes the invitation, sinking to his knees and sidling up against the bedside. he reaches out a trembling hand, maybe to feel for himself if this is reality, but he hesitates just before his finger brushes against his daughter’s. his eyes meet satoru’s; can i? they ask. satoru nods permissively.
the tears come flooding the moment suguru’s hand touches yumemi’s. she’s so small. delicate. her hands are barely an hour old and she doesn’t even know it. his are almost twenty years, but he feels decades older than that. the feeling is amplified the longer he’s in contact with her.
the twins have made a point to creep up a tad closer to their fathers, just to watch it all happen. “hi, micchan,” mimiko waves with the hand holding her plush. nanako is holding the other.
suguru gathers the two of them into an awkward side hug, but neither really seem to mind. nanako happily invites herself to cuddle up to suguru, with mimiko following suit shortly after.
he doesn’t know when satoru had started messing with his hair, but there he is, hand on the back of his head, deft fingers carding through curling, wavering black. suguru can’t remember the last time he felt so hopeful.
“eighteen more years of this, yeah?” satoru jokes.
suguru laughs. “i wouldn’t have it any other way.”