Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“You wanna go on a date with me tomorrow?”

Suguru didn’t look at him. Just kept packing his backpack on the desk.

“Sure, where?”

The blood drained from Satoru’s face. “Wait, what?”

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Within minutes of their professor dismissing the class, the room was nearly empty.

Satoru Gojo was already on his feet. He hiked his expensive backpack over his shoulder and kicked his chair in, the legs scraping loudly across the linoleum and clattering against the desk. The remaining students glared at him, but their vacant and judgmental stares wouldn’t reach his big ass head.

The Satoru Gojo, top of the food chain. Rich kid asshole, a degenerate relying on his looks and parent’s money to get by. Which, unfortunately for fate, worked out, like, spectacularly for him. Most people were surprised he even went here, but according to legend, his parents paid off admissions and their donations basically kept the lights on, so. He could fuck around for the most part.

And he did. All the time.

Which is how he’d ended up here.

“Oh, I know.” Sukuna snapped his fingers and pointed at Satoru, a shitty smirk on his face.

Satoru turned to him slowly, bracing himself. “Fuck, fine. Nothing too bad though, my parents got pissed at me last time. Almost took my car.”

*Last time: Sukuna dared Satoru to try and get through a sixer of beers in class without the professor noticing. The professor obviously noticed.

“Nah this one’s easy.” Sukuna’s smirk turned into an even worse grin. “I just wanna see you look dumb.” Sukuna aimed his pointed finger across the room at the only person still in their seat. “Y’know that guy?”

Satoru followed his finger and squinted. “Which?”

“Emo kid. Looks like he’d bite a lil’ bit. He’s got the, uh—the hair?” Sukuna waved his hand vaguely.

Satoru hummed, then shook his head. “Nope,” he said, popping the p.

“Go ask him out.”

“Pfft,” Satoru snorted, rolling his eyes. “Why? Lowkey didn't even know that was a guy. Don’t know each other at all.”

“Well, yeahhh.” Sukuna’s voice trailed off, awfully delighted. “Never seen anyone talk to him. That’s what makes it funny.”

“Think he’ll freak out ‘cause I’m giving him attention or something?” Satoru chuckled.

“Or he’ll tell you to fuck off. Maybe he’ll even get so mad you get hexed or some shit. I’d fuckin’ pay to see you get possessed, bro.”

Satoru gave him a blank look. “I don’t wanna get possessed.”

“Never know if you don’t try!”

“You’re an idiot.” Satoru flicked him between the brows. Sukuna grabbed his face with a miserable little noise, and Satoru was already on the move. “Gonna get this over with then.”

Suguru had just finished the last of his notes—all neat and clean within the margins of his notebook, complemented with a few little doodles. He was stood behind his chair packing his things; slipped in his notebook, his pencil bag, then shoved his water bottle in a little unceremoniously. He had shit to do.

He heard footsteps approaching. Heard the guys laughing and chirping at the back of the class, a sound he’d, unfortunately, become very familiar with over the last month. And based on the height of the looming shadow in his peripheral, he had a pretty good idea which one of those idiots was coming his way.

Suguru didn’t look up. He just grabbed the last couple little things from the desk and dropped them into his backpack. Not only did he not acknowledge Satoru, but also, he absolutely did not care about anything he could’ve wanted from him. He didn’t want any part of whatever attempted humiliation ritual he was being baited into.

Satoru stopped about a foot away and leaned on the desk. Chill, casual, very cool. He blatantly stared at Suguru for a little bit.

Suguru’s profile was still striking even in the shitty fluorescent lighting of the classroom—high cheekbones, a straight nose, dark hair pulled into a half bun that left a few loose strands falling around his face. His piercings glinted along the edges of his ears, hoops lined up above the dark stone plugs in his stretched lobes. Two more black hoops hugged either side of his lower lip, and another curved through his nostril.

Satoru glitched out a little.

He does kinda look like a girl, he thought, then immediately felt super dumb. There was something captivating about the guy though. Maybe it was the way his lashes cast shadows across his cheeks when he looked away. Wonder which piercing hurt the most.

A long silence stretched.

Suguru let out a heavy sigh, hanging his head a little.

Snapping back to reality, Satoru would take that as an invitation. He cleared his throat. “Hey. What’s your name?”

“…”

“I’m Satoru Gojo.”

Suguru took a deep breath, then finally looked up. Satoru could immediately tell by his expression that he couldn’t give a shit less—a rare response to his presence, really.

“I know.”

Satoru was a little thrown off at that. He awkwardly pulled his hand back and shoved it into his pocket. No handshake, then. Cool, cool. “Do you have a name?”

“…Suguru Geto.”

“Oh,” Satoru’s blue eyes lit up. “Our names kinda sound alike.”

Suguru stared at him. He furrowed his brows and blinked at him a couple times like, what the fuck are you saying to me right now, then turned away to zip up his backpack.

Satoru’s smile fell. He huffed and glanced back at the guys. They were watching, snickering to themselves and waiting for Suguru to turn him to stone or something.

Fuck it.

He took a breath.

“You wanna go on a date with me tomorrow?”

Immediately, it felt like the room morphed into something else. Satoru’s mind spiraled into some kind of melodramatic movie scene—he was on his knees in front of a ruthless warlord, begging for a measly bowl of porridge, waiting to be damned for all eternity. The warlord would turn, his glowing red eyes full of unrelenting hatred, and just as Satoru accepted his fate—

“Sure, where?”

Satoru popped one eye open, then both. He stared like an idiot with his jaw slack.

“Wait. What?”

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Satoru Gojo was a very prideful man.

He half-assed nothing (with the exception of most things), and he wasn’t about to stop here. So, after they’d almost wordlessly exchanged numbers, Satoru gave him a I’ll pick you up at five and went to work on planning their date.

This would be the best day of this weirdos life, he told himself.

Suguru was basically like his Make-A-Wish kid.

It didn’t matter that Satoru had only planned, like, three dates in his entire life. He had the power of the internet!

He would be diligent in his research, Googling things such as:

What do emo kids like
Emo date for guy
Expensive date near me
Do emo guy normal but expensive date is that ok
Best CS2 AR build for medium range
Can guys be pretty or is that just handsome
Date spots near me
Is ferris wheel too romantic guy date

He would be the perfect gentlemen, including Suguru in his planning to stay in line with any preferences:

Satoru Gojo: Hello Suguru
Satoru Gojo: Wat kind of food do you like
Suguru Geto: Whatever

Satoru Gojo: Hey
Satoru Gojo: Do u have any nice clothes
Suguru Geto: Kinda
Satoru Gojo: Perfect
Satoru Gojo: Aren’t u gonna ask why
Satoru Gojo: Fine nvm wear normal stuff

Or, ask for help from others:

Satoru Gojo: Hey
Satoru Gojo: Ur a girl right
Yuki Tsukumo: Why are you even awake
Satoru Gojo: I could ask you the same!!!
Yuki Tsukumo: I just got off work at my JOBBB
Satoru Gojo: That sucks. Anyways do u have any dinner place reccs for a date
Yuki Tsukumo: Hmmm. K but dont blow up my spot.
Satoru Gojo: yayyyyyyyy

By three AM, Satoru would have the itinerary more or less put together.

He’d go pick Suguru up from his probably creepy house, then they’d go get dinner at the place Yuki recommended, then they’d go to the festival happening at the pier. The finale would be the ferris wheel ride at sunset, which he’d already bought the tickets for in case some dickhead wanted to fuck with his steeze.

He was up the moment his alarm went off, bright and early despite not having class on Fridays.

Then promptly fell back asleep for four more hours. He woke up eventually and got ready. All of his fancy skincare products that’d gone long-ignored—the ones his mom got him for Christmas that smelled like good-stuff—were used in meticulous order. His skin was perfect either way, but today felt like a fitting one to go through the ritual for. He shaved carefully, styled his hair just right, then stood in front of the mirror for a while trying to figure out if he looked good or if he was being a tryhard chud.

Getting dressed took the longest.

He told Suguru to dress normal, then started to overthink on what the fuck normal meant. If he overdressed, then Suguru would be more insecure than he probably already was, therefore, his Make-A-Wish kid would not be having his best day ever. That just wouldn’t do.

Satoru’s normal end up being a pair of baggy blue jeans, a white long sleeve with a gray crewneck sweater pulled over it, then threw on a some black Vans. He spritzed some cologne—one some guy had complimented one time that really stuck with him, for whatever reason—clipped his keys to his belt loop (a push to start, obviously), then ran out the door.

The Porsche grumbled from the cold start, matching Satoru’s own inner monologue. For a good five minutes following, he just sat there glancing at himself in the rearview mirror about fifty times. He drummed his fingers on the dash, put on some music, and took a breath.

Then, finally, Satoru slapped his cheeks and took off to go retrieve his emo.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹

The drive felt unreasonably long.

His hands were all clammy on the wheel and songs he was tired of kept coming up on his playlist and he was hot, and he just—he turned the music off. Rolled the window down.

Finally, he pulled up outside of a very un-creepy and regular looking apartment complex. A few cars parked outside, kids playing, people walking their dogs and whatnot. Huh, would you look at that.

He parked out front and shot Suguru a text, just here.

It wasn’t long until he was coming out, and Satoru let out a sigh of relief seeing that Suguru’s normal outfit was in line with his own normal outfit. Suguru wore black cargo pants, a gray hoodie with a black, unzipped Carhartt jacket over top, and a pair of Doc Martens. His hair was down today, falling nearly to the middle of his back, and his piercings caught the silvery winter sun as he walked. He looked… nice. Satoru’s eye twitched.

“Cool,” he mumbled to himself.

Suguru came over and wordlessly opened the door, just slumped down into Satoru’s Panamera and shut himself in. Satoru’s hands were frozen on the wheel, just kinda watching him and waiting for Suguru to say something. Then he remembered that, oh yeah, he probably will not.

“Hi.” Smooth.

“Hello.” Suguru turned to him a little, looking overwhelmingly uninterested. It gave Satoru the heebie-jeebies. “Where are we going?”

No ‘thanks for getting me’ or nothin’? Damn, tough crowd.

Satoru started the car up. “Surprise.”

“I don’t like s—”

Vrooooom.

Satoru didn’t wanna hear it, just sped off and out of Suguru’s neighborhood. “It’ll be fun!”

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹

The car ride was painful—mostly for Satoru though, who was sweating and shitting his pants the entire time for whatever reason, while Suguru sat beside him seeming terribly relaxed.

After a while, and about five strike-outs, Satoru decided he’d try to break the ice with him like a man, rather than his Make-A-Wish kid or a date.

“Do you play video games?”

Suguru actually looked over at him. Satoru mentally fist pumped.

“I do.”

“Cool.” Satoru nodded. Didn’t say anything else and quickly looked forward.

Suguru couldn't help but let out a little pffff, then quickly covered his mouth and looked out the window, his shoulders shaking slightly.

Satoru burst out laughing, flushed to the tips of his ears. Emo kid could laugh at him, it was fine. This was like giving a dog a cheeseburger before it’s euthanized, anyways.

Suguru helped him out a little, for once.

“I play CS and other FPS stuff. Plus whatever my friends convince me to buy from Steam sales.”

The car swerved suddenly.

“You play Counter Strike!?”

Suguru hummed and nodded a little. “Since I was, like, fifteen.”

“No fucking way.” Satoru’s enthusiasm was genuine, Suguru noted. He was white-knuckling the steering wheel, totally didn’t check his mirrors before changing lanes. Got honked at and didn’t react in the slightest. “Dude, me too. Do you play ranked?”

Suguru nodded again. “I hit Global Elite, but school stuff started taking up most of my time. I just play Premiere now.”

“What the hell.” Satoru’s jaw was dropped—even as he payed the guy at a little stand outside the restaurant for a parking spot, he was still staring at Suguru like a deity had appeared before his very eyes. “You hit Global? How the fuck—“

“Car, car, car!”

Satoru blinked, then realized he almost hit a parked car in the lot. “Oops.”

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After Satoru asked him five hundred questions about CS, they were sat inside, eyeing the menus in silence.

It was a nice restaurant for sure—dim lighting and tea candles on the tables, exposed brick walls and all that good stuff. Some soft jazzy music played throughout the space, really accentuating the you shouldn’t be here vibe Suguru was getting.

He felt massively out of place as he looked over the prices. His shoulders were a little tense, but he tried his best to keep his face neutral.

Satoru must’ve noticed it. He looked at him over the top of his menu, gave him a little smile. “Get whatever you want, I’ll get some wine, too, I guess. Fuck it.”

Suguru hummed a little. “Oh. Okay, thanks.”

Yeahhh, you’re sooo welcome, Satoru thought. He just nodded and went back to his menu.

It seemed that straying from his first date with an emo guy script had worked in Satoru’s favor.

Suguru was answering his random questions, even if most of them were short and he hardly made eye contact, they were still talking. Satoru would definitely count it as a win, and honestly, trying to find ways to get Suguru to warm up to him felt like a fun little game. Satoru was a fan of a good challenge, so he’d persist.

He slowly swirled his wine in his glass, watching the deep red smear and collect in drops along the crystal. What next, what next.

“Do you like wine?”

Suguru was mid-sip from his own glass. He set it down and gave a nod. “Yep.”

“Do you likeee…” Satoru looked around. “Going on dates?”

“No.”

“I googled what kind of stuff emo guys like to do on dates but didn’t come up with anything, so we’re going on a regular date.”

That one had Suguru holding his breath. He closed his eyes for a second and tried to lock in, swallowing his laugh.

“Is that right?” He asked, his voice gone high pitched and shaky.

Satoru didn’t notice.

“I really did, I’m so serious. I end up asking my friend for advice though and she recommended this place. She’s like—kinda alt or whatever, so I just took her word for it,” he said, taking a bite of his pasta. Chewing with his mouth open, Satoru continued, “Ish really good though. D’you like it.”

In that moment, watching Satoru Gojo’s stupid face looking at him with shockingly pure, unbridled interest in his opinion, Suguru would admit something to himself.

He…might have no fucking idea what was going on.

This was all meant to be a cruel prank; some middle school shit where one of the popular boys would go ask out a nerdy girl at recess, then make fun of her when she said yes. But seeing as he himself wasn’t a helpless little kid, he knew Satoru only came in confident because he’d assumed Suguru would tell him to fuck off and he’d laugh at him and do just that. So, with that in mind, Suguru wanted to say yes just to get a reaction. He wanted to see Satoru die inside—which was successful—then waited for him to get pissed off and call him a slur before stomping away.

But he didn’t.

And now he was here, and he was kind of enjoying himself.

“I do like it. It was a good recommendation.”

Satoru reached over to refill Suguru’s wine glass. “Wanna know what we’re doing next?”

“Sure.”

“I’m gonna bring you to the festival down at the pier. It started on Wednesday, but Friday's always the best day to go, anyways. Then—“

“I’ve never gone to one.”

Satoru went still. “Wait, really? Your parents never took you?”

Suguru’s eyes dropped to his glass. “No.”

And Satoru was an idiot, but not a big enough idiot to miss that he probably should’t mention Suguru’s parents again. With that added to his ongoing mental note, he’d keep running his mouth.

“Okay, well. Perfect,” Satoru said, seeming very proud of himself for unknowingly planning Suguru’s first visit to the pier festival. “Maybe I’ll win you one of those big teddy bears. Or get you a goldfish or some shit if that’s your vibe.”

Suguru couldn’t not laugh at that one. He’d, again, quickly cover his mouth and look away, shaking his head a little and smiling against his palms. “Please don’t get me a goldfish.”

Suddenly, Satoru felt nauseous. Or something. No, it was up too high. Heart burn or something. From what, he thought, briefly scanning over the table. None of this stuff had ever given him heartburn. His eyes trailed up to Suguru, still giggling into his hand and—

Oh.

Suguru was making his chest hurt. What the fuck?

No, he was probably just having a heart attack. He’d deal with it later. He had more important things to deal with right now, like his Make-A-Wish emo across the table, who was wiping his tears with a big, bright smile.

Oh no, Satoru thought, watching the way the soft candlelight danced across Suguru’s phoenix eyes and sharp features, and how his shoulders had relaxed a bit. Watched the way he looked back at Satoru like maybeee he didn’t totally hate his fucking guts.

I’m going to die before I reach Global Elite.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹

The pier was plenty close enough to walk, so after finishing off a second bottle of wine, they’d head out.

The streets got busier the closer they got. The sun was starting to hang lower as evening came, painting the pier in a low gold as Satoru walked beside Suguru. He did most of the talking. Suguru offered the occasional look, a smile, and a few words here and there.

The alcohol loosened them both up a bit, but Satoru could feel Suguru’s comfort maxing out. He seemed to be curling back up into his shell just a little bit—enough for Satoru to notice, though.

Then he noticed something else.

People would move out of his way when he walked. People wouldn’t move out of Suguru’s way. It was always him stepping aside and offering a slight, polite smile, making himself smaller to let someone by.

Satoru didn’t like that.

The next time a group was headed their way—a group of guys, you know the type—Satoru pressed his hand to the small of Suguru’s back and walked right beside him. Didn’t slow down, didn’t even offer the guys a look.

The group moved.

“Fuckers,” Satoru mumbled, pulling his hand away and stuffing it back into the warmth of his pocket.

After a second, he noticed Suguru wasn’t on his right anymore.

He stopped and quickly turned around, finding Suguru standing still just a few paces back. His lips were a little parted, staring at him with a confused—shocked, maybe?—look on his face.

“What’re you doing, come on! I want taiyaki!” Satoru was very dumb. He waved Suguru on and kept walking.

Suguru returned to his side after a moment, his hood pulled up and his head down.

They walked in silence until they’d gotten to the taiyaki stall. Satoru getting them each one without asking. Suguru would eat this taiyaki and he would like it. Because everyone liked taiyaki. He turned around to hand it to Suguru, the parchment paper warm in his hand, the fish-shaped pastry steaming in the cold air.

Suguru looked up at him for the first time since Satoru found him frozen in the crowd. His cheeks were still red, and for a second, Satoru wondered if that’s why he pulled his hood up.

Because he was cold, duh.

“You warm enough?” Satoru asked as Suguru took the taiyaki.

Suguru made a face for a half second, then let out a soft laugh. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks,” he said, then took a little bite.

“Cool,” Satoru said dumbly. He bit into his own with a satisfied hum, the warmth spreading through his chest, and tried not to think about how Suguru’s laugh made him feel like he was catching on fire.

They walked around for a bit after that, Satoru pointing out some random things or rambling while Suguru nodded and nibbled at whatever snack Satoru pushed at him. The crowds passed around them, and it felt weirdly intimate. Just the two of them, in their little bubble, on their little date.

Eventually, they found themselves in front of a ring toss game.

“I’m gonna win you a bear now,” Satoru said, quick and confident as he slammed some cash down onto the counter.

“Whatever,” Suguru chuckled, standing behind him with his arms over his chest. He would’ve argued against it, but Satoru seemed extremely into it, and he couldn’t help but think his manhood was at stake right now.

Satoru sucked.

At every game, he sucked. Ring toss, darts, all of it. He got more and more frustrated with each loss, nearly descending into a full on tantrum.

Suguru watched in quiet amusement as Satoru attempted another; a goofy fake gun pressed to his shoulder, trying to get one of the three corks to hit the targets on the wall.

A miss. “Fuck.” A miss. “Fuck.” A miss. “Fuck again—“

Suguru set a few dollars down. “Lemme try.”

The attendant handed him his gun. Satoru watched in horror as Suguru raised it, lined up his shot, and hit three targets in the following five-ish seconds.

“What the fuck.”

Suguru turned back to him, smirking. “Skill issue.”

Then he handed the big blue teddy bear to Satoru.

Satoru laughed out loud, trying to shove it back to Suguru. “Nooo! I said I’d get you one!”

Suguru just grabbed it too, trying to shove it back. Two grown men, half-wrestling over trying to force the other to accept a stuffed animal. Laughing their asses off, looking stupid as can be, until finally Satoru conceded and took it, both of them panting.

Satoru carried the bear for the next hour, flustered as hell for reasons unbeknownst to him.

He looked over at Suguru at some point, and he’d find himself unable to look away.

The early sunset painted his tanned skin in a soft gold, warm and glowing like something out of a dream. Satoru would notice his eyes this time. A warm light brown in the sunlight, framed by long, dark lashes. The way the light hit him made him look a little unreal.

“Satoru…?”

He suddenly realized Suguru was very much indeed looking right back at him. Opened his mouth and nothing came out.

“Satoru, why were you staring at me?” Suguru looked concerned, like he was in trouble or something.

Satoru briefly considered not answering just to get him to say his name again. Instead, his hand moved much faster than his mind. He reached out and gently tucked Suguru’s hair behind his ear, fingers brushing the shell of it. “You just had—“

Suguru froze. Satoru froze, his fingers still against Suguru as he looked down at him. Then came that look again, and then, Satoru would watch in awe as a blush spread across Suguru’s cheeks.

He snatched his hand away like he’d been burnt, and they both quickly—very awkwardly—turned away from each other. Suguru was internally imploding, then there was Satoru, who was clutching the front of his sweater in panic, trying to control his breaths.

“I’m going into cardiac arrest.”

Suguru grabbed his shoulder, turning him around. “What?!”

“We should start heading to the ferris wheel.” Satoru flashed him an innocent smile.

Suguru stared at him for a second. Ultimately decided to stop questioning anything for a while, then just sighed and nodded. “…Okay.”

Because of Satoru’s proactivity, they wouldn’t even have to wait in line for the ferris wheel.

They were stepping into the little cabin right at the peak of golden hour, the metal creaking slightly as they boarded. It swayed gently as Satoru plopped down onto the bench with a content smile, still holding the bear to his chest. Suguru sat across from him, and they’d start moving within a minute or so.

Comfortable silence settled between them. Suguru leaned against the window, watching as they’d be whisked further and further from the city below, shrinking beneath them. The view expanded over the rooftops, the ocean glittering against the setting sun, the mountains in the distance.

Satoru hadn’t looked out once.

“Have you ever been on a ferris wheel?” He asked, eyes still on Suguru.

“Nuhuh.” Suguru shook his head, a soft smile across his pierced lips.

Satoru couldn’t help but laugh a little. Quiet and to himself, just once. “Cool.”

He watched as Suguru pressed both hands to the window, then rest his forehead against it. It was so fucking cute for some reason. Suguru looked… Suguru looked pretty, like a girl.

Suguru looked beautiful, in fact. If he were being honest, this might’ve been the most beautiful thing Satoru had ever seen.

What the fuckkk?

Satoru hugged the bear to his chest, finally forcing his gaze out the window. He watched as the sun crested the ink-black mountains on the horizon, the deepened amber, purples and oranges reflecting brightly across the water. Looked at the little buildings below, thinking about how the pier looked so small like this. He realized they were at the top.

The ferris wheel came to a brief stop, and suddenly the silence didn’t feel comfortable anymore.

“Suguru?”

Their eyes met when Suguru turned to him, and Satoru wanted to explode into a billion tiny pieces of heart-shaped confetti.

“Hm?”

“Um—“ cough, cough. A pause. “Why’d you say yes to going on a date with me?”

The eye contact was short lived, Suguru turning back to the window with an expression Satoru couldn't quite read.

“I knew you were fucking with me, so I was fucking with you.”

Satoru’s jaw dropped a little, the first part of the sentence going in one ear and out the other. “Wait, you didn’t really want to?” Then Suguru smiled just enough for Satoru to see it.

“Mhm,” he hummed. “I didn’t think you’d actually come pick me up.”

“I’m a douchebag, but not that big of a douchebag.”

Suguru watched him from the corner of his eye, a brow quirked. “Is that right?” He asked, tilting his head toward him a bit, looking up at him through his lashes. “Why’d you ask me out, then?”

Ah, fuck.

Satoru stumbled over his words a bit, and as he tries to come up with something believable, he could see Suguru’s half-hearted smirk shift into a sad smile.

“Thought so.”

“No—“ Satoru said quickly, reaching out to grab Suguru’s knee. “I wanted to. I swear.”

Suguru didn’t know how to react. A small part of him thought, hey, maybe he’s telling the truth. Satoru had been extremely courteous all day—funny and warm, looked out for Suguru the entire time. He checked in on him, paid for everything, drove them around, everything.

At the same time though, it felt too good to be true. Suguru was ashamed of the weight that settled onto his chest at the thought.

Satoru was a straight guy; well known to be a player. Some rich asshole that did whatever he pleased, fucking who he wanted and mouthing off to whoever he so chose. There wasn’t an explanation for this that made any sense. To him, Satoru was either, one, that type of straight guy—the ones that wanted to bang another dude just to try it out, only to ghost Suguru after—or, or, two, he was an incredible actor and was mega fucking evil.

It’d all run through Suguru's head in the span of maybe two seconds. It made him dizzy.

“Why?”

He wasn't sure why he asked it. He didn’t want to know. There wasn't anything Satoru could’ve said to him he’d believe anyways.

Satoru blinked at him. “‘Cause.”

Suguru rolled his eyes. He shoved Satoru’s hand off of him and turned to the window again.

Shameless and a little panicked--fearing he’d ruin his Make-A-Wish kid’s best day ever--Satoru put his hand back. “You seemed cool and I wanted to talk to you.”

“Do you even like guys?” Suguru asked bluntly.

“No," Satoru relied immediately, but he froze up again when Suguru looked at him. The words began to fall slowly from his mouth, his hands starting to tremble under Suguru’s gaze. “I—I don’t… I don’t know.”

The look in his eyes when he admitted it was too real for Suguru to deny.

He hesitantly reached to rest his hand over Satoru’s, leaning in a little. Gently, Suguru asked, “Satoru… Am I the first person you’ve ever said that to?”

The moment of silence that followed was short-lived.

“Sorry.” Satoru quickly pulled away to sat back down. He hugged the bear to his chest, resting his head on the plush and staring out the window. “That—that was, uh, weird of me to say. I didn’t mean to. Forget it.”

Suguru's heart wrenched in his chest as he watched him. What do I do, what do I do?

He knew he only had a few minutes to spare until the wheel started to spin again. So, as the glutton for punishment he was, he just went for it.

“You can kiss me,” he blurted out, cheeks burning red hot the moment the words left his lips. “Um, I mean. If you want.”

They looked at each other for a minute.

Did Satoru want to kiss Suguru? No, ’course not. Suguru was just his Make-A-Wish kid for the day. This was just all in good fun. He’d pretend he didn’t know him on Monday, the guys would get a good kick out of it, and he’d never think about it again. Satoru wasn’t gay—hell no. Absolutely not.

But as he looked into Suguru’s eyes, his breaths trembled. His nails dug into the bear, palms sweaty against the soft blue fur. His mouth would betray his mind.

“Yes.”

Suguru was shocked. He managed to nod a little, suddenly apprehensive. “O-okay.”

“Okay.”

Satoru sat the bear beside him, then shifted to sit up on his knees between Suguru’s legs. He pressed his hands to the bench on either side of him. The closer he got, the shakier he’d become—the warmth of Suguru’s body so close to him, the smell of his Santal cologne and just Suguru. He wasn’t sure why, but he reached to hold Suguru’s face. He ran his thumb over his cheekbone; felt the softness of his skin, the warmth of it.

He hadn’t realized how badly he’d wanted to touch him earlier. His eyes flickered from Suguru’s to his lips, and Suguru would give another hesitant nod.

God damn it.

Satoru kissed him.

He could feel Suguru’s soft gasp against his lips, but Suguru kissed him back. Satoru’s hand slipped to cradle the back of his head, pulling him a little closer to deepen the kiss after a moment. The texture of Suguru’s soft hair between his fingers, the sweet taste on his lips; things Satoru never thought would be sending blood straight to his crotch within a good ten seconds.

The hesitance would fall prey to hunger after not long. Suguru had expected a shitty little peck, but this was—this was something.

It was slow and deep, Suguru’s arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him in. Satoru slipped his tongue into Suguru’s mouth then, and Suguru wasn’t sure he’d ever heard a more pathetic noise come out of himself.

“Fuck,” Satoru panted against him. He ran his free hand up Suguru’s thick thigh, digging his fingers in and causing Suguru’s breath to hitch.

Before he knew it, Satoru pulled Suguru down into his lap. Satoru sat on his feet, Suguru’s arms still around his neck, his back pressed to the front of the bench. The shift was quick, both falling into motion with each other the moment Suguru settled on his thighs, like they could’t get closer fast enough.

Just as Satoru pulled back and started to kiss down Suguru’s neck, the cabin beside them started to cheer.

Jarring, to say the least. They scattered apart, quickly returning to their respective benches. Satoru shoved the poor, traumatized teddy bear over his lap. Suguru’s crossbody laid over his own, and neither would say another word. They just stared out into the darkness with their hearts beating in their throat.

The ferris wheel moved then.

“Suguru—“

Suguru put his hand up a little, shaking his head with his eyes closed. “Mm-mm.” Not right now.

“Okay,” Satoru mumbled.

The remainder of the ride was silent. Their cabin eventually slowed to a stop at the bottom, and the moment the attendant opened the door, Suguru was getting the fuck out of there. Satoru followed, still clutching the blue teddy bear.

They made their way back into the crowded festival, and everything was overstimulating as all hell. Screaming kids, rides whirring around them, music coming from a dozen different places. Bright lights strobed in pinks and greens, headlights from the parking lot cut through between the stalls—it was too bright, too loud, too much. It was way too much.

Satoru’s skin felt sensitive from the stress, the tension of a fresh headache coiling tighter with each step. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure Suguru hadn’t taken off for good. Thankfully, Suguru was only a step behind him, and actually looked back at him too. Satoru just huffed a little and reached out and grabbed his hand, and Suguru even intertwined their fingers.

They wove though the crowd with Satoru leading and Suguru following, and it felt a kind of normal for a second.

Then, within a minute or two, Satoru accidentally shoulder checked someone.

He started to apologize in passing, but suddenly stopped so hard Suguru ran into him with a little oof. He looked around Satoru’s shoulder, and then they were both frozen in place—hand in hand.

“Choso,” Satoru said, blank-faced. “Hey.”

“Um, hey.” Choso gave him a confused look. Yuki gave his sleeve a little tug, then both of their gazes dropped, landing on their intertwined fingers. His eyes widened slightly, then he looked back up to meet Suguru’s panicked eyes. “Ohhh.”

The guy from class. Right. Wait. What?

Choso looked at their hands again. Looked at Yuki. Looked at Satoru.

“I’ll—“ Satoru paused, trying to conjure up some bullshit at light speed. “I’ll catch you later,” he said, then hastily pulled Suguru away.

They wouldn’t part until they got deep into the parking lot.

✧˖ °.₊⊹ . ‧₊˚ ☾.  ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ˖°✧

They walked a few feet apart. It wasn’t awkward necessarily, just a little weird. Satoru could still feel the warmth of Suguru’s hand in his.

Neither of them said a word.

They’d get into the car eventually, but Satoru couldn't bring himself to start it. He looked over at Suguru, watching the way he tensed his jaw, and how he refused to meet his gaze. Satoru didn’t have the slightest idea about what was happening with fucking anything right now.

His mouth felt a little dry.

“Are you okay?”

Suguru finally looked at him, and the eye contact made Satoru’s stomach twist. “I’m fine. Let’s just go.”

Satoru sighed to himself but gave him a nod and started the car anyway. He quickly put on some music—a little ambient, quiet—just something to occupy his mind so he wouldn’t straight up kill himself on the way back.

Suguru pulled his hood up and rested his head against the cold window. The streetlights passed in streaks of warm yellows and oranges, flickering across his face like wind to a flame. He closed his eyes tight, trying to ground himself against the cool glass, listening to the hum of the engine and quiet swoosh of passing cars.

The silence between them felt like a physical weight. They were both so in their heads, it was almost a shock they hadn’t transcended from the car and into their own respective physical voids.

Suguru sat in the passenger seat, silently punishing himself for being such a fucking idiot. He could hear Shoko’s voice in his mind, scolding him for his love of straight men (he didn’t love them, they loved him—or so he’d say). She’d remind him that he got played every single time, and normally he couldn't argue, but this? This would end tonight. Whatever.

Meanwhile, there was also Satoru, having a full on existential crisis behind the wheel. This can not be how Katy Perry felt getting a little gay, he thought, this is so much more confusing.

Bearing the long red lights and occasional awkward eye contact, they’d finally made it to Suguru’s place. Satoru parked right where he had before. He let the engine run, the idle rumble filling the stubborn distance between them. Both waited for the other to speak up first.

After a minute, Suguru reached for the door handle.

He looked over at Satoru, his expression soft—a little sad, even. That pain from earlier flared up in Satoru’s chest. “Today was fun,” Suguru said, genuinely. “Thanks.” A weak smile. Then he moved to get out.

“Wait, Suguru.” Satoru’s hand shot out, rings flashing against the streetlights, landing a little tight over Suguru’s knee. “Do you—um. Would you want to hang out again? I’m not doing anything tomorrow.”

Suguru didn’t stop.

He just looked at Satoru, almost pitying. “You can stop now, Satoru.”

It felt like a shot through the heart.

Fuck.

Satoru pulled his hand away, fingers curling into his own lap.

The door opened, then shut.

Suguru didn’t look back. No hesitation, just walked toward his building with his hood up and his hands in his pockets. Then he disappeared through the doors without a single glance over his shoulder.

Satoru sat there alone for a while, the engine still running. Although the heater was on, his hands shook as he stared blankly at the steering wheel, feeling like he’d been hollowed out.

You can stop now, Satoru.

It echoed throughout his mind, over and over. Stop what? Stop… trying? Quit being nice to him? Stop—what the fuck was he even doing?

He replayed the day piece by piece: Suguru’s laugh when he was losing his games. The way his eyes caught the light during the sunset. The kiss—Suguru’s tongue in his mouth, his fingers tangled in his hair, how he gasped when Satoru pulled him into his lap.

That happened, right? Didn’t it?

Satoru’s breaths grew more shallow. He pressed his palms against his eyes, letting out a helpless and low groan.

Maybe Suguru was right. Maybe it actually was just a joke the whole time. Maybe Satoru had been fucking with him the entire day and didn’t even realize it. Maybe he was that much of an asshole, bored and curious, or—no, no. That wasn’t it.

Suguru thought he was playing a game with him, probably. Using him like a trial run. Satoru had heard from one of his gay friends about how straight DL dudes would seek them out and try to use them, weird shit like that. He wouldn’t do that, never—but why wouldn’t Suguru assume that of him? Satoru couldn't even just give him a straight answer.

His hands curled into fists in his lap, nails digging dark red crescents into his palms.

He didn’t know who he could be honest to right now, including himself. Maybe he should’ve just told Suguru he didn’t know what the fuck he was doing, but that he didn’t want their day to end. Said something nice and normal.

You can stop now.

You can stop now.

Trust me, I would’ve if I fucking could’ve.

Then he snapped.

He slammed his fist against the steering wheel. Then he did it again, and again—hard enough to split his knuckles, blood welling and smearing across the expensive white leather.

He stared at it. Stared and stared, trying to catch his breath.

He put the car in drive.

Then he went home.