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starsologyy · 3 months

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𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑, 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ─ 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 [𝟎𝟎𝟐].

002. ─── ✦ DRUNK IN LUV [SERIES MASTERLIST} ✧˖*°࿐

synopsis ─ [31 DAYS LEFT TILL THE EXAM] gojo takes home his drunk girlfriend, who's actually geto's little sister, and aka, somebody he is NOT suppose to seeing at all.

content warnings ─ alcohol usage, curse words, and etc.

NOV. 9. 2007. 8:54 PM. GOJO SATORU’S POV.

satoru knows it’s a dumbass idea to be next to the girl he can’t have. especially at a public library he rented at night, but it was cheap, and no one could possibly blame him.

if one was asked to elaborate on this institution of knowledge as a birthday venue, one wouldn’t classify this place as a profoundly enormous architectural masterpiece due to its inadequate funding, which lacks to achieve something grand in that matter.

it’s rather pathetic, looking at it. the knowledge that surrounds them has insufficient funds to where they have lost the dignity to not plaster a scroll of edo period art on the beige walls. but the old lady who runs it; hired satoru a couple of months ago, doesn’t seem to care much.

and satoru isn’t shown to care either since he rented it out for a birthday party for teens who wanted to drink. (when it was only her and him together…)

yet, he feels as if the old woman does care somewhat. she’s bitter, rude, and slips insults off the tongue like the sound of books off the shelves (she wouldn’t be able to hear herself any other way at this age) when he does the shelving wrong. but she’s not always a senile old woman, satoru thinks. she’s nice enough to spare him from a five hour lecture to not spill a single liquid of beer on the ancient books.

It was only four hours today.

but never mind that.

he knows he should feel terrible, bottled with immense guilt because he hasn't told his best friend, suguru, about how he likes his little sister. and yet, satoru oddly doesn't feel any of those things.

and satoru gojo, he knows he’s fucked for his apathy.

“satoru!” kana whined, kicking her restless feet against his thrifted, acid washed baggy jeans, “i’m sooooo tired. do you have water?” she asked.

impersonating the spider web that hangs on the corner of the shelf beside them, his barrage of intertwined thoughts rip as he pops his head out of the cramped space and his eventual hangover to rapidly nod his head.

the snow fallen haired boy soon passes her a bottle of water, watching her chug it.

satoru can’t help the grin growing on his face. “maybe you should go home, you can’t handle your beer.” he teases with a cheshire-like smile. kana scoffs at him before laughing a moment later.

she leans on the table at the end of satoru with a flirtatious expression, “accompany me home then idiot.” kana teases back, and the male’s crystal light eyes widen in a bit of a shock at that invite. the top of his mouth even shrivels as he tries to aimlessly smack his rosy lips for a bit of random moisture.

“ah well—”

kana rolls her eyes. “my mom won’t see you! don’t be a pussy satoru.” she frowns, “i’m not some fling you’re hiding, am i?” she said as she gave him a side glare, and he rolled his eyes after he shook his head no.

being afraid of your girlfriend’s mom and your best friend (her brother) will see you, is NOT the same as having another girl on the side, satoru screams within his head. he’s surprised after dealing with her temper and chaotic mess he hasn’t gone ahead and found a different girl yet, but that’s her charm (supposedly at least).

“okay, first of all,” he explains to kana. “if i was hiding you, i would cover up your face with a paper bag everywhere i went,” the boy laughs, wrapping his arm around her shoulder as she scrunches her face. “and don’t do that, you’ll get wrinkles and look like an old hag if you keep scrunching.” satoru adds in a sing-song manner.

“also, accusing me of being with other girls is also pretty much saying I’m with an old hag. like we’re 90 years old and I looked at some girl at a bingo game because—”

“just shut up.” she scoffs, pinching his cheek in response before settling down.

she doesn’t do it hard enough to hurt for long he realizes, even if he could technically handle it. satoru pretends as if someone shot him in the foot.

“OUCH!”

“FINE! fine! uragh, i’ll drive you home, so you can’t complain to me. happy?” he shouts, pouting at the same time. though, it turns to an uncontrollable soft smile when the cerulean in his eyes rise as similarly unmanageable waves, to now mesmerizingly swirl in his pupils once it witnesses the sight of the joyful contortion of her lips.

“really!? and don’t call me some old hag anymore! for the life of me.” she groaned, and he rolls his eyes to confirm his little tease will be over.

kana smiles, forcing him up by suddenly jumping up from her seat similar to the cartoon characters plastered on the scratched walls behind him. satoru laughs boisterously at this, only to witness her also hop on his rather wide back once he also leaves the table, wrapping her muscular arms around his neck to rest her head on his shoulder.

“you’re heavy!”

“fuck off!”

he clicks his tongue, holding onto her thighs to support herself on him. the silence between their lips pursue the delicate tread of the frail bliss known as comfortability. he didn’t mind the lack of their chat. It doesn't last long however.

“seeeee, you know you like this,” she drunkenly cheers, her clumpy coats of onyx mascara with the shade electric blue on the tops fluttering lightly on her lashes as she takes in the fresh air once they step outside of the library. “how could you not love this? you should drive me home more,” she giggles. the alcohol seems to have set in, and her incredibly soft hair tickles his chin.

“and waste my gas? yeah fucking right,” he yawns mockingly, and she scoffs as she kicks her legs back and forth (ensuring to leave him a bruise for injuring her egotistical pride.)

“ouch!”

“what’s with you and injuring me?” he grumbles.

silence seems to have fallen off the thread of comfort now as he’s rather feeling uncomfortable from the sting of hard sneakers hitting flesh.

her little ‘hmph!’ reminds satoru that it would mean dead silence between them, killing the conversation and giving tension between them as they both struggle to generate another, but he actually finds it opposingly soothing right now.

they soon end up in his navy blue sports car, kana in the passenger seat as she rubs her eyes a bit. she’ll regret it later he realizes, but satoru stays silent as his engine rumbles obnoxiously loud, probably waking a couple of crying babies nearby. oops. not enough to wake her up though, so he hopes those moms would forgive him.

──────────────────────────────

the drive isn’t supposed to be long, but the time it takes to arrive to kana’s house stretches far into the greedy hands of eternity. it desperately holds both souls in the stillness of the blinding rich glimmer from satoru’s sports car, and yet as dreadful as infinity may stretch, he continues this sloth like pace, driving painstakingly slowly, and prolongs the inevitable.

the last time satoru gojo drove this slow, is when he first got it on his sixteen birthday and mommy wouldn’t pay to get scratches removed.

yeah…

the reason he drives slowly though, is because he just doesn’t want to deal with what comes with pulling up near the drive through. yet he holds that breath of polluted city, or whatever how much a suburban town in the middle of nowhere can be considered a city, just at the center of his adam’s apple. kana sits restless, and exhausted at the same time somehow throughout all this.

she’s a bit naive, satoru thinks. for getting into a car with a man, to clarify. she trusts him sure, but caution lies clear in folktales of those who have been hurt by the ones they hold the most dear.

she disregards fear like an idiot living near a radioactive plant. it’s impressive, but he’s the one who agreed, so he’s her neighbor in that dumb scenario. he stays silent as she rants about whatever drama could possibly conjure in the hellhole of the 2nd year of a suburban high school.

but to be fair, she runs her mouth like an american sprinter about far less worse things than what he used to hear at his old, stuck up the ass, high school, before he got caught sneaking out at four am and was sent to this town like some mass isolation.

“and then he said it’s not his fault he had to cheat because she just wasn’t getting his needs you know? but I was like nooo are you insane—”

…

“kana?”

…

“you there?”

he glances over at her, and his brows raise to the top of his head at the sight of the slight drool lining her glossed lips. the emergence of a buried sound of snoring in the rippling silence of a rural town where no one dares to stay up past twelve o'clock (or be faced with their mother’s rapid pull on rather sensitive ears) makes him chuckle. it’s amusing to watch, sure, but he quickly rests eyes back on the ever winding road to not crash his expensive ass car into a boulder.

he really does need a new job. and soon. but maybe watching your girlfriend sleep should be a job in itself he thinks.

satoru’s arms soon rest easy on his thighs as he gets comfortable with this road back to her place, just an easy step on the gas he also needs to refill. he’s unconsciously keeping a steady pace to not wake her up, but he denies it to the gentle, beating of his stone cold heart by saying he doesn’t have the cash to waste another gallon or purchase another tire to go over a pothole carelessly.

also, he doesn’t want to wake up some family like he did a while ago. after another five minutes or so, they reach their destination.

──────────────────────────────

he glances over once more. “wake up ugly.” the cheeky boy provokes, pinching the chub of her cheek to leave it a hint more rosy than what kana normally brushes on her cheeks.

“or else i’ll kick you out for not paying me back for gas.” he mutters to himself, his scarred muscles (from being outside more than some barbaric creature who resides in forests) almost shuddering at the thought of paying those ever increasing expenses.

kana’s eyelids slowly rise to the sight of the slightest frown on the boy next to her, but they almost already fall shut once more from the alcohol she ingested a while ago. her lips remain shut while her head remains slugged on the back of his white leather extravaganza of a vehicle.

“we here already?” she murmurs.

“just got here.” he nods.

a part of his aching soul is fond enough of kana, that as the girl holds near and dear inside his very calloused soul, he silently pursues the question of letting her sleep a while longer if her hangover needs so. but he disregards that thought.

the longer he stays, the more likely he is to be caught. even if he wants his girlfriend to get the sleep she needs.

kana raises a brow in turn to somehow telepathically question why he hasn’t launched some mischievous joke to wake her up. he can tell what she’s asking from that look in her eyes.

“since its your birthday and what not.” he quickly adds, as if to deny a disgusting softness that may cultivate in the gentleness of his self if carefulness continues to lack in the streamlining of hushed words.

“oh. okay.” kana sighs, a yawn escaping soon after as she rummages through the back of the car to find her onyx bag. it has a bountiful bunch of multivariety printed pins stuck to the painfully clear false leather of measly fabric and the same galore of cheap key chains stuck to the strap and zipper, but it seems more endearing than he is to her.

he’s joking, obviously.

there’s a quietness now as she continues to try to make sure she doesn't forget anything, and it’s usually familiar, but satoru feels a lump like he wants to gag and renchingly expel the hideous bile of his very stomach from its personification of a burden to ask why it exists. the silence from a bit ago was comfortable. now it’s noticeably not.

why is she quiet? she normally talks his damn ears off when she wakes up, as much as he does her. it’s giving him an unfamiliar goosebump, similar to when he sees a seven foot male at his basketball games. essentially, it’s not good.

at all.

it shouldn’t be there, and his need for the expulsion of a cheap beer isn’t this feeling either. it’s not the same, even if he doesn’t like to drink very often and pukes after a sip. satoru only drank beer today for kana honestly, but he usually sticks to more sugar cube filled mockery of these drinks more often than not.

she’s gotta be pissed off for sure, or satoru is in hell for not throwing away the empty milk carton from when he wanted cereal from this eerie silence.

“you mad at me?” he hums, looking outside the clearness of his driver’s window (that he only cleaned yesterday to impress her).

silence again. he looks at her once more. did he wake her up too early? he doesn’t think he did (but men never know what they did wrong he learned).

“why would i be mad?” she scoffs, resting her bag in her lap as she then begins to pick up the things she keeps forgetting to get back from his abyss of a car every other time she enters his car. for example, like that vampy lipgloss from the dollar store, she keeps forgetting it, and always forgetting to take it back.

“you just seem mad all of a sudden. i don’t know. did i suddenly fuck up, your royal highness?” satoru sighs.

“well, i’m not. you’re just reading inbetween the lines.” she glares out of the blue, and his similarly colored cerulean eyes droop at its very cold sight, like her being merely upset freezes him more than what winter may do in the essence of the common occurrence called frostbite.

he goes back to looking away though, yet she can somehow notice a snowflake of shame as a glimmer in his eyes that she stares at quite often in the haze of her slugged drunkenness.

“so you are mad.” he states with a sigh leaving his lips after he does so.

she doesn’t respond for a moment.

“and if i am?” maybe she’s on her period satoru wonders. just maybe.

“i drove you home though, like you wanted.” he seems to be insisting of a conversation that may drive him mad the more she could have the time to glare at him in this enclosure of a car. he shrugs, trying to open up a door that probably shouldn’t be touched. “did i forget to do something else? did you want flowers?—”

“just open the damn car door. im like a prisoner!” she responds, angrily trying to open the car’s side door after picking up her forgotten lip gloss. he grabs her wrist in a rather harsh manner, but it softens at the realization of a small wince on kana’s very face.

“sorry—but, i wanna talk. i know you’re mad at me, but I thought we had a good time at your birthday party, and you know, i can’t understand why you’re mad all of a sudden,” he mutters, “and for being so dumb.” he

adds, and while he repeats the word ‘sorry’ like a broken cd, she knows satoru says his sorries and apologies as much as meteors appears in the very calming night of this town. or a tsunami and what not.

satoru doesn’t intentionally hurt her. yet, it’s this time where retribution once more comes forth to punish the way kana’s senseless rambles attempt to shelter her from his notions of affection. he wants to know why he hurt her, but the countless occurrences she has pushed him away has comes to haunt her and her fragile femininity in trying to express herself currently.

she shouldn’t need a man to help her feel better, she thinks.

her endless polarity of moods continue to antagonize her in a manner that she will never be someone that she wants to be without agonizing over the smallest matters. it’s a shame when she looks at the worry in his eyes again that she's the cause of.

they’re pure, and hers are troubled. she doesn’t know how to express herself in a matter of care and gentleness in which other women have been characterized to have known since their heart has beat.

it’s easy to talk to the boy about anything but her feelings truthfully.

she looks down, because she feels the uncomfortable warmth lining her tear ducts.

it’s weird, crying on your birthday, she thinks. especially over such a good guy like satoru, she just can’t get the words to slip as much as bile does after a crappy special night out. he carefully holds her for a moment now, as if she’s a fragile piece of glass, letting her head rest in the scent of his woody cologne.

“did you care when i was talking about that random girl earlier?”

huh? he thinks, raising a brow. she doesn’t know how else to distract him. she’s drunk. who’s going to blame her?

“not really, but i guess it was fucked up her boyfriend cheated.” the white haired boy murmurs. “are you mad because i didn’t show interest, cause i was listening it only didn’t seem like it because—”

“because you were driving, i know.” he raises his brow at what could she be annoyed about if it’s not about that, but he stays silent. “i don’t know what i’m mad about then.”

he’s about to open his mouth but, “i don’t know. okay? maybe it’s because im buzzed. it just happened all of a sudden okay? you know i don’t cry often it’s just you know, you know? right?”

she’s repeating words like a mad man, he thinks. crying like a jester on display after a ball falls from the juggle of his rather childish act. she fits the role of one oddly enough, but he likes the spontaneity of it all.

“so you’re upset at me because you’re drunk? because this happened all of a sudden you know?” if he says the words ‘you know’ one more time, he might bang his head.

she nods.

he sighs of some sort of minor relief despite not understanding it. “you’re always an emotional wreck after a beer.” he grunts, and she rolls her eyes, her fingertips obnoxiously wiping away her sudden tears as if she wasn’t wearing smokey eye makeup at the moment.

she’s glad he’s not forcing her to say more. he’s glad himself he won’t have to provoke her to another mess of her drunken mind. he’s not equipped to deal with the mental breakdowns, but he still allows her to ramble endlessly about others, and then cry in his arms about nonsensical matters. despite him being the forbidden fruit she wants to taste his bitter lips, so she kisses satoru despite it all, savoring the sweetness of his love despite the fact suguru would kill her for dating his best friend.

taglist? <3. just comment below!

#jjk getou #jjk gojo #gojo fluff #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen shoko #jujutsu geto #jjk fanfic #jujutsu fluff #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fic #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jjk #geto fic #jjk shoko #shoko ieiri #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu kaisen geto #jjk suguru

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starsologyy · 3 months

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fire asf gangy

The expression of love given to you.

warnings; none . just fluff .

If there’s one thing Gabi will admit, she isn’t as observant as Falco.

She’ll admit that wholeheartedly, along with her obliviousness, when it comes to the expression of love. Yet, it happened to her when Falco desired to get married to her and have a prolonged, happy life, confessing his feelings in the midst of a war despite the anguish and sorrow that surrounded them. It was honestly embarrassing to hear Falco explain the concept of it, but she sees it. The idea of love revolves around her. The affection between her family, the love Annie has, pining over Armin as they haven’t made their relationship official, and the love that friends share with each other.

When Gabi visits Levi's teashop a few streets away, she discovers another individual seating near the shop's window. You were unknown in her eyes and quite pretty, particularly with the rays of sunlight emphasizing and radiating among all of your features. Gabi was prepared to hurry into the teashop seconds before she caught sight of Levi's gaze of tenderness, love, and molten gold pouring affection into his eyes towards you. Her steps faltered, coming close to the store, but far enough for Levi to not notice her figure standing around the streets.

You grasped his whole attention on yourself, like you both were the only ones in the entire world, focusing only each other. Nothing else.

Her jaw drops, pausing in her stead as people ignore her figure, walking past her to their destination.

In the same way, she felt like the universe paused for her, focusing on the two figures that were conversing with each other. Even from watching afar, Gabi notes the hint of redness on Levi’s cheeks on his scarred face. Gabi felt like she was opening one of those romance novels that women were geeking about in their little tea party. It was abnormal for Gabi to see the proclaimed ‘Humanity’s Strongest’ from Paradis, radiating coldness, and a wall of titanium that couldn’t be broken down, but she doesn’t see that at all.

Something about watching them both was heart-warming to see. That the man who obviously seems to have lost everything in life has someone that walked into his life, brightening his life. Gabi observes the way you throw your head back in laughter, for something Levi had said, giving you a hint of a small smile from the corner of his lips.

Gabi came to the conclusion that this established relationship between you and Mr. Levi must’ve been ongoing for a long while.

Then a hand settled on her shoulder, startling her with a yelp, turning to face the familiar blonde. “Gabi! What’re you doing standing around?” Falco laughs from startling her before apologizing. “Uh, it’s just… Do you perhaps want to grab something to eat before we see Mr. Levi?” Gabi speaks without thinking of the context it may come behind, wanting to leave you and Levi alone for a bit, having the blonde and herself overcome with redness. “I-uh,” he stuttered. “Sure?” Falco agrees unsurely with a crack in his voice, having Gabi nervously grasp onto his arm to the opposite direction of the teashop, having no idea where to go to eat.

Gabi didn't bother glancing back, but if she did, she'd notice two pairs of eyes trailing them. You were grinning at them, entertained at how clumsily they were acting with one another, vanishing from your perspective as the gentleman standing behind you sighed in contentment, knowing Gabi must have been watching them and making the choice to leave them alone.

“Hey, you don’t mind if I stick around do you?” You asked, “your little helpers seem to have gone on a little date.” You joked to yourself, waiting for Levi’s response as he felt a flush of heat rush the back of his neck, seeing the pretty smile you give him.

“Just don’t make a mess in my shop.”

“You know I don’t leave a mess!”

“At your house, you do.”

#Levi x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x y/n #Levi Ackerman oneshot #Levi Ackerman x reader #Levi oneshot #Levi Ackerman fluff #aot fluff #aot levi x reader

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starsologyy · 3 months

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the whole wrld needs to read this b/c i luv shidou smsmsmsmsmsm and this scratches my brain ngl.

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。NUMBER — SHIDOU RYUSEI.

✩ — contents ⋮ barista! reader, fluff, very annoying yet very sweet boyfriend shidou agenda <3 he’s so romantic in the most vein popping way <3

shidou loves to bother you at work, it must be his favorite pastime, you think—except now it’s starting to get everyone else at work invested too.

“oh. my. gosh,” you coworker whispers, swatting your arm excitedly, “there’s a guy asking for you—says you made his drink last time.”

“i make a lot of guys drinks,” you shrug.

“yeah but not for guys this cute,” she huffs, “i’m jealous. this is your chance, so don’t ruin it! maybe he’s good in bed too,” she wriggles her brows at you, making you scowl as you roll your eyes.

and then you see it—that mop of blonde hair with those pink ends, and you sigh in exasperation as you walk up to the register.

of course, it’s him.

“hello sir, what can i get for you?” you say monotonously.

“hmm,” shidou grins, tapping his chin as if he’s deeply in thought, “i was just thinking i’d get a drink from a pretty little barista. maybe even a number.”

from the distance, you can see your coworkers stop whatever they’re doing to stare—it’s not like it’s every day that someone this attractive comes in to flirt with a fellow employee. you can just about make out the jealousy in some of their faces and amusement in the others. one thing they all have in common, however, is awe—which you’re not too shocked at, shidou’s admittedly a handsome guy….if you look past how obnoxious he can be, that is.

“what drink would you like?”

“any is fine with me as long as i can get your number as an add on,” he grins, and it’s a wicked grin, really. it’s wide and smug and almost makes him look psychotic. you purse your lips as you shake your head, and distantly, you can hear your earlier coworker groan at your lack of enthusiasm for what you’re sure she’ll later go on to describe as the luckiest experience you’ll ever get.

“that’s not an option we carry here,” you squint, “you must be getting our menu confused for another coffee shop. maybe you should look somewhere else.”

“i don’t know,” he smirks, “i don’t think i’d confuse a pretty face like yours so easily.”

if anyone were to tell you, they’d say shidou ryusei is insufferable. you come to learn this is very true with every possible encounter you have with him, including this one. but there’s something a bit endearing about him, something that’s…dare you say, adorable, despite the way his words are sometimes crass and far from proper. and if the way he’s so persistent for your attention is of any proof, you’d say he’s a pretty determined guy—but you like to see how long you can keep him on his toes.

“i’m sure you say that to all the pretty faces you come across,” you say sarcastically, eyeing him as his smile widens and his eyes glint with amusement.

“nope,” he pops the p as he speaks, “you’re the only one. why, you jealous?”

“you wish,” you snort. “and i can’t give you my number, actually,” you say—and this time, it’s you with a smug grin, catching the eyes of your coworkers as they tilt their heads in confusion, “i have a boyfriend. so i’m afraid it’s simply not possible.”

“oh?” shidou drawls with a raise of his brow, “i bet he’s a loser. bet i could take him in a fight easily. if i win against him, you gotta let me move in with you—how ‘bout that?”

“he is a bit of a loser,” you grin, and anyone could make out the fondness seeping into your voice as your eyes soften at the idea of whoever’s got your heart. “but he’s my loser, so i’m afraid the answers still no.”

“sounds like you love him,” he presses, eyeing you expectantly.

“i don’t know about that one,” you giggle, “he’s still got to prove himself a bit more.”

“that’s harsh,” he hums, “maybe if you gave me your number, i’d prove to be better.”

“sorry, no can do—”

“just give him your number, already!” your coworker cuts you off and huffs, stomping her way over to where you stand. shidou’s got a cheshire grin on his face, eyeing her with that same look of amusement that makes you pinch your nose as you sigh. “you and i both know good and well you don’t have a boyfriend so do yourself a favor and just—”

“and how can you be so sure there’s no boyfriend?” shidou raises his brow.

you try, you really do—but you can’t help but finally crack. it’s a small giggle at first, and then it’s a fit of laughter that makes his eyes soften and his lips quirk into a lopsided beam that’s nothing short of lovesick.

“if you do seem to think there’s a boyfriend in the equation, why pursue someone then?” you coworker raises a brow, arms crossed as she challenges him, “that makes you a jackass, don’t you think?”

“easy,” shidou cackles, leaning in and pressing one, two, three soft pecks to your lips, making everyone gasp as you roll your eyes affectionately, “i’m the boyfriend. sometimes i like to keep the romance alive and fight myself every once in a while.”

“wha—” she’s left speechless, staring at him as she tries to comprehend what he’s just said with her mouth hung. shidou only mocks her opened mouth, and you reach over and swat his shoulder, making him snicker.

“that’s enough, ryu,” you warn—though you don’t sound all that serious. “i’ll be off in ten. are you gonna order anything or just stand there?”

“aw, c’mon baby. ‘course i am,” he pulls out his card, handing it to you, “i’ll take your favorite. you keep it though,” he winks.

“god you’re so annoying,” you mumble, but still, you don’t pull away when he leans for another peck on the lips, even as your coworkers chant a chorus of get a room from the back.

“see you in ten, baby,” he calls over his shoulder, walking off to find himself a seat as he waits for you.

yeah, you think, your coworkers are really going to be invested in this one.

he’s like…so very sweet and in love but in a very annoying and odd way. like he’d vandalize a building to spray paint your initials together in a heart or something

#shidou fluff #shidou x reader #shidou ryusei x you #bllk x you

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starsologyy · 3 months

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𐙚˙✧˖° 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐘 𝐍 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐘. ༘ ⋆｡ ˚ AN ONESHOT ft. MIYA OSAMU.

synopsis ─ during your struggle in solving a math problem, you're stressed enough to contact miya osamu for some help. when he comes over, you find out he just might have bought over some curry.

clever as one may possibly be amidst land that itself has seen varieties of intelligences and theories that date back to a singular chance in space, it’s rare to be true that you surpass the greatest of those who have or currently lived on it. on this planet where they were able to formulate their outlandish belief because a simple explosion of a vermillion star amongst the million alike has kept expanding through within this impossibly finite universe and gave them what they required. it would be extremely arrogant to say you shine brighter than their legacies.

but you’re not saying that, no. of course not. because even with the hand drilled (done horrendously by your parents) onyx frames laminated papers glued to the painted walls and other declarations of academic merit, you find yourself stuck on a math problem that photomath can’t even seem to recognize. albert einstein could do this in his sleep. apparently he was studying it at twelve, and you at eighteen can’t even get past the first lesson with the help of every resource printed on the internet.

for hours on end, the scrabble of your 0.7 lead in your clear plastic muji pencil (that’s supposed to inspire your supposed intelligence) is already leaving dents into a paper that not even a white block eraser could possibly get rid of. your vein randomly strengthens and appears out of your forehead through the thin skin of the overly priced honeydew facial mask, while your calloused fingertips have to feel the dent of the heavy pencil at this point of the silent night where you thought you would have been resting by now. a meal and a thirty minute nap hasn’t helped you solve it somehow, and it doesn’t help you have five exams the next day.

the very bags that drag beneath your eye are ingrained in the flushed flesh you possess, for how they so delicately hang on your face’s incomparably stable bone structure like these bags have used their claws beforehand to claim some rightful place. you know they aren’t going to magically disappear with concealer tomorrow unfortunately. their appearance has caused you to venture and wind into a rather dark path under this dim moonlight, which continues to cradle the anguished clicks of your very tongue with a soothing quietness.

and it’s all because you’re so desperate you glance at your phone to check the people on the classroom app possibly there. before you’re about to press this one person’s tiny little message icon, your sharp fingertips pinch the fat of your thigh to see if you now have a nightmare. you don’t wake up. unfortunately.

you sigh to yourself. it’s miya osamu, a name which lingers to be typed on the digital keyboard and at the tip of your tongue similar to a mint you have failed to savor out of human impulsivity.

you don’t exactly admire how the corners of his blushed lips turn into a shit eating grin when you ask him for help in nutri sci. it’s not even great help, honestly. maybe because you focused on his hands glide over to yours and grab your pencil so easily to always find an error in your procedure of a delicious pastry up for the teacher’s approval more than actually listening to what he says. when he’s done, he just gives you a knowing look before sliding it back and heading back to whatever he was doing at the moment. you always had hoped he didn’t notice you spacing out at the sight of his forearms. especially now.

you find yourself hopeless for even texting this man, and expecting a response. but he’s also in your math class, and maybe because how good he is at somewhat approximating measurements without a look at the cup, it could mean he’s also useful in calculus. it takes your absolute strength to type, and you pray he doesn’t question who you are. you had to ask for his number for a group project once, and you worry perhaps he has forgotten your number entirely by now.

“r u awake?”

simple text, nothing should go wrong.

but a minute goes, and you’re about to call it quits for the night. he’s already sleeping probably. your eyes shut in a mere exhaustion, one familiar to nights where you prolong the fruit of relaxation in exchange for a stupid 100 or check mark on an assignment.

“yeah. what’s up?”

you sit up, racing for your phone before staring at the message. you’re grinning, and you don’t know why this is, but it’s oddly getting you quite ecstatic. it’s the idea of being able to get sleep finally that’s driving you so insane.

but you’ll play it cool. you’re always cool right?

“i need help. on problem 21, can you tell me what you did? o_o” you text. the emoji looks cute you must say.

three minutes go by. you worry he’s suddenly asleep now.

“nah. it’s not fair for me to just send you the answer.” he responds. “i kinda worked hard…”

you almost bite the thickness of your pale nails off like a beaver to use those jagged ends in slightly peeling your mask for some sort of relief at this anxious mess.

“but, how about if i come over and help?” osamu texts a moment later. “keke ;)”

you forget he’s the twin of a guy who does the same exact thing over texting.

“and i know it’s late, but my ma made some good curry and i can bring it over. unless your parents would be mad or sum idk” he adds, and your heart almost rips from the restraint of the very veins in your body from the adrenaline that makes it race at the words he so charmingly types.

“sounds good?”

“ofc.”

your feet plant themselves at the last step of the creaking staircase currently. the clamminess somehow is able to hold your phone tight though, and you suspect it’s out of fear that you would have to pay for a new one that would cost about a grand if you crack it.

a) your parents would behead you.

b) miya osamu would get the weird pleasure to brag that he had a girl so “wet”, she broke an expensive phone over him.

with either one undesirable to say the very least, you now decide to sit on that same step. in this uncomfortable silence, you now feel a bead of sweat make a slow plop on your complexion. to make yourself presentable, you first wipe that one drop of sweat, but then you overly shake at the thought he may judge you in this moment.

and if miya osamu judges you, how will you continue to exist? should you even continue to exist? (as dramatic that may sound to many).

but it too brings the fruition of a series of questions well warranted from which friends will message when you eventually gush to them about the miya osamu being oh so angelic to have blessed your house with his very presence. perhaps it would call the notion of concern in the heavens if you mention it’s ten pm and you had been inspired to hide him from the eyes of your parents. it creates perceptions that you’re hiding him as an illicit lover, and not a woman who struggles in math class.

for your sake of comfort though, he’s not one to be sociable, so you don’t really notice him out of classes you share much, nor do you judge him for that. assumptions of impermissible love may (relaxingly) rest in a coffin if he’s samu to everybody else but simply miya to you in that gym class you also share.

but he’s also the nicest to you when he gives you the ball to try something out in a volleyball game in your rather boring gym class. maybe you’re not the best, but you don’t hear a single groan of complaint from him. you call out miya so airily when your spike just tips before hitting over the net, and you often notice him just stifling a laugh before helping you. he usually ditches some water break to do so. perhaps he just gets tired and feels bad that you often don’t have a ball to play with.

one day you guys can play a game at the gym, if he gets along with you tonight.

plus, no matter how you twist this unconventional recipe for disaster, he’s not the worst guy. and he’s not the worst eye candy either.

you should know the best out of everybody how attractive osamu is since you stare at him too often when your nutri sci teacher is about to talk you into hearing a lullaby with a burning hot stove in front of you. his eyes have a lack of hue which match the metal bowls in your shared cooking class. you stare at them often when he doesn’t realize, and you doodle his “horribly” structured face in your assigned recipe book. sometimes you draw the pupils in swirls from how the milky way reflects in them in real life instead of actually also listening to how much sugar you add in those cookies may give someone diabetes. bad habit of course.

now that you think about it, now you want a milky way chocolate bar. oops.

his muscles are great too. especially the forearms, when you watch the stretch randomly or use it to carry things out of the oven that may break down at any moment.

you’re about to go on another worry rampage but you hear the door knock. you falsify reality where you were simply upstairs doing work while waiting because to admit you were waiting like a fool at the stairs would cause you to faint if he ever found out, and you “calmly” open the door.

“hey.” he grins, and you have a small smile already. there’s a huge aluminum party tray in his hands, steaming.

“hi.”

you almost stare for too long, a stupid smile on your face as you slightly sway back and forth accidentally.

“earth to [y/n]? going to let me in? please? the curry is burning my hands.” he chuckles after a moment, and you quickly nod, “oh shit yeah—” you blurt as you let him follow up to your (now) clean room to set the curry down on your dresser next to your haphazardly piled makeup bag. “sorry!!” you add.

“you can sit anywhere.” you chuckle nervously, in which he nods in response, sitting on your bed which is beside the desk where the homework is. “thanks for the curry by the way.” you murmur, finding him another pencil after you knew you couldn’t stare at him stretching at the moment unless you wanted him to catch you for being some weirdo.

“no problem.” osamu hummed, looking over the problem since it was easy to reach. “this one was weird, but i can explain it. we should eat though. you can’t think on an empty stomach,” he starts, his stomach rumbling to interrupt him. it makes you laugh admittedly. “and I can’t explain on an empty stomach.” he groans, “i got home from practice too late to eat.”

“i can get us plates and some spoons—” “forget plates, i ain’t going to want to clean it anyways. spoons will do good.” you chuckle in response, and you run back down to get the spoons mentioned.

when you’re back, he opens the aluminum foil his mom tightly wrapped like she’s holding the secrets of her grandma’s recipe, and then gladfully takes the metal spoon from you. your eyes glance to find a seat, or to wonder if you must run back down to drag some chair up here, but he solves your issues by patting the open spot next to him on the bed. a part of your neck tilts in confusion.

me?

sitting next to you?

“it’s not that serious.” he answers as if he just read your mind. “just sit next to me.” he shrugs, offering you a soda he seems to have remembered at the moment after he had just rummaged through his bag for it. you almost malfunction, but you listen and enjoy the bubbling fizz on your delicate tongue.

osamu takes a bite of the thick and silky brown curry accompanied with the soft white bed of rice, making sure to get a golden potato or two in his bite. you’re a little hesitant to reach over, but he moves over on the bed as he makes sure you’re able to also get a bite.

“is it good?” you take a big bite of the curry carrot, and he n nods. “obviously. my ma makes the best curry. i wouldn’t embarrass myself by giving a pretty girl some shit food. I gotta take the recipe from her one day if you like it.” he grins, and your face feels like he had roasted it instead of the curry powder in the roux.

was that a slip up? or is he that charismatic behind the closed doors and the ball which often blocks a majority of his face when he spikes?

“she really does make the best curry,” you muffle with another five bites in your mouth, and he laughs as he does so with another six bites. you figure to let yourself go, so in this cramped vicinity of the warmth of which your bodies are only a inch apart, you’re starting to not feel as nervous anymore to where you forget that he can see every imperfection on your face, or how you’re gobbling this curry like it’s no tomorrow. he doesn’t seem to complain that his hand accidentally touches yours when he tries to relax while he chews.

soon you’re both finished with a rim of curry around your lips, you both stifle laughter at the sloppiness of it all as you grab a paper napkin to clean it off. a comfortable silence occurs for a minute or so as you guys steal glances at each other

you never thought his laugh would be so loud, nor do he think yours would just be so bright.

“sooo, you going to help?” you whistle as you look away, and he nods. he looks at your paper again, glancing over at you. “your equation didn’t work in the first place because you said 10 + 11 = 22.” he laughs, and you almost screech as you grab the paper back. no fucking way you made that mistake!

“but since i’m here, i guess i can also try to explain why ten plus eleven doesn’t equal twenty two. you know, since i’m so amazing or whatever.” osamu hums, planting his head on your cherry printed pillows, that stormy cloud hue of his head full of messy hair, a rather pretty one to accompany the vibrancy of the crimson of the fruit on your sheets. you can’t help but hold your face away from his cocky and rather lazy grin, instead staring at how your feet shift back and forth to stimulate a dash away from this moment. “shut up miya. you’re so so annoying.” you huff.

“really? like i’m the one who contacts random classmates for math help at nine pm. alright, whatever you say. you got that.” he chuckles and you instinctively turn to swat his chest, accidentally brushing your fingertips along the ridges of his abs. you instantly retract your hands back, but he’s laughing now at how flustered you seem to be. “and i ain’t the one either to be all up on my random, poor classmates.”

“then just leave.” you whine, getting up from your bed as you plan to go into the bathroom to screech. “but it isn’t that deep.” he says casually. “we can hang out. just call me samu though.” osamu hums.

you raise a brow. “i thought you would want me to call you miya, since i don’t really know you all that well.”

“well, i don’t wanna be confused with my annoying twin brother. so you’re good. plus, i like it when you say it.” you scrunch your face at that sly little flirt of his, and he laughs once more.

“did i not tell you miss chang won’t be here tomorrow?” he adds, and your head tilts one more. “maybe we can just not worry about your homework and just plan to do something tomorrow—”

“…no? you didn’t tell me anything.”

“oh. oops. guess i didn’t tell you.”

“I’m really debating on going out with you then. you didn’t think it was smart to tell me i had an extra day to worry about this homework before you came over?” you grunt, close to swatting his head and dragging him by the foot since he plasters a nervous smile.

“please?” he mockingly pouts.

“fine.” you roll your eyes.

he grins. “so, you wanna go to a curry shop tomorrow?”

#miya osamu #osamu miya #hq #hq x reader #hq fluff #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #miya twins #osamu fluff #hq fic #hq osamu #osamu x reader #osamu smut #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu fic #haikyuu fandom #haikyuu oneshot

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starsologyy · 5 months

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i'm actually cooking after 7 months...can i get some claps..please!! (╯✧▽✧)╯actually dying though.

#444 ☆

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starsologyy · 5 months

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✧ 𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐒

JUJUTSU KAISEN

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starsologyy · 5 months

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𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑, 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ─ 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 [𝟎𝟎𝟏].

001. ─── ✦ A BITTER 17 [SERIES MASTERLIST} ✧˖*°࿐

synopsis ─ [31 DAYS LEFT TILL THE EXAM]. after being rejected by your childhood best friend, you walk by yourself to your other best friend's birthday party. but even after you use the celebration to forget him, it seems he leaves you a parting wish to forget what he said.

content warnings ─ alcohol usage, curse words, and etc.

𝐍𝐎𝐕 𝟗 ─── 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐎𝐎𝐍.

“change is good.”

it’s a quote with words that soothes the ache of the guilt of never ending metamorphosis with its dearing touch, yet sears with regard to whatever you may have yearned to keep. your body still lingers though in an oblivious trance of the past, stuck even when you tell yourself this quote, noticeably the presence of the sound of dreadful repetition of the god awful radio in the car when your phone has died and your dad doesn’t like the silence.

you’re supposed to move on, and yet, change doesn’t feel all that great like it should.

suguru telling you it was an impulse to kiss your lips that morning had forced the wrenching of your weak guts, mutating what little love you had found in mind and self to be left to shreds. you used to consider his voice the melody entertained with the love belonging to naive youth, but his rhythm now leaves you bitter when you know yours is no longer a proper one itself.

his words have left you to appear restless despite the hours of rest you have laid with him yesterday as you walk to the library, and you wonder just how much one boy could just seemingly ruin everything in a mere second or two.

the soles of your aged sneakers brush harshly against the fissures of similarly old concrete when you try to figure this matter. of the uncomfortably familiar streets that you tread, you’re forced to witness the disaster hurling inside the crevices between your rigid bones that call out to lay your eyes and in heart to seek a selfish longing such as a motionless life.

ingrained in privileged purity and righteousness in the midst of infancy, your body used to run gravely cold at even thought of something like an easy life.

when suguru left initially, you too, originally planned to leave when you got a bit older. because in a town so miniscule, there was nothing close to the freedom of living out the wildest dreams one may have. stuck by the identical proximity and communal till lungs inhale and exhale finally, you used to find that life daunting. to remain in bind forever by the opinions of those who resided was a possibility of hell, and now remains so admittedly.

the city allowed you to breathe. do whatever you want, and nobody will dare to care. the thought that you don’t matter much, you found that to be freeing.

you had always planned to escape from the nostalgia and the redundancy of the town; to lace your worn sneakers in a haste manner before taking off to wherever your heart had desired at the moment. you’ll escape in the cheapest vehicle at the junkyard you had bought beforehand, then drive recklessly while you release your thoughts to the cds that play as soon as you land on the first highway out of this town. you didn't know (or care) if you would struggle all alone somewhere else. its dread lacked importance as long as you were free. perhaps a skinning sort of agony, but it meant you had the determination to do it, and you would be better than the boring folk who resided in oblivious comfort. you wanted to be better.

however, just as the hastful suguru was to abandon what built between you two when he moved, as quick as he was to enter your life once more after his return. jovial though you were to see him once more, but it was at a steep price of daring the depths of the disaster in your very soul that you found the horror (yet truth), that suguru had led you complacent into discovering the very pleasure of domesticity. for his words to lead you astray from the philosophical freedom you once sought, to instead let the eventual ache of your feet be mediated by the possibility of the gentle rocking of the wooden chair you’ll purchase for the house in the countryside with him.

after this morning though, you doubt he would even visit that house if you had bought it. he’s gone to wind, and you were stuck with your feet embedded in soil, yearning to keep time still as a caterpillar’s walking pace of early metamorphosis to preserve the fading moments with him. it seems he didn’t feel the same for you, since suguru grew mosaic wings from this, and you were still on the ground.

the roughness of the pads belonging to the surface of your fingertips attempt to sooth the chaos stirring in the puffiness surrounding your eyes when you realize this truth. they glide to smooth an approaching swelling, and with every wrinkle they flush back into your supple skin, you even feel yourself whispering curses directed to the very silence around you like someone would come console you of this actuality.

it’s laughable.

laughable because you’re now standing in front of another very proof that time can’t stand still after it has crossed your path during this pitiful walk of yours.

it’s only an old truck the local elderly couple on the block owns, and yet you wonder if the universe just yearns to entertain your anguish in the midst of this freezing autumn.

sure it may be invaluable and complicated to deal with to most, yet if they didn’t have love for this car, they would have simply abandoned it in some junkyard nearby. you know how complicated and annoying it is to maintain that car because you and suguru had also worked with your dad at the auto shop to repair it every summer. despite suguru’s departure, you and your father still begrudgingly repaired it yourselves. it took days, and certainly wasn’t cheap for them because everybody involved had realized it was a miracle your dad even had the talent to fix something that old. but you can tell it meant a lot to them, because they paid the hefty price every time with a pretty penny too as tip.

through change someone loved it. when it got old, it still was taken care of. you think you now yearn for that determination from somebody.

it lingered in your mind, causing you to wonder if suguru had loved you through the metamorphosis your vulnerability had undergone during his leave. you had become rough around the edges, like a dog who bites at its owner rather than bark. had he eventually gotten too tired to throw his bone to you? so now he rejects you?

you decide to forget about it, afraid it would cause you to become too obviously depressed before you had met up with the others, so you quickly rushed your feet to avoid further thought.

──────────────────────────────

once you finally arrived at the quint library, you pushed open the glass doors, just for your jaw to collapse.

the widened pupils in your eyes saw your best friend kana, also suguru’s little sister, kissing suguru’s best friend, satoru.

“okay don’t worry I can explain this just calm down!—” she shouted nervously.

“oh jesus so you’re dating your brother’s best friend and I’m supposed to be calm? you couldn’t have even told me?—”

“sure bring that up but aren’t you dating my brother? So who’s acting supposed to be calm? cause it’s definitely not you—” kana nagged.

“who said i’m dating your suguru when i got rejected this morning by him when i tried!?—” you retorted.

“you’re dating suguru?” satoru interrupts, appearing rather dumbfounded as his lips curve to whisp a “huh” a moment afterwards. “sorry, i mean, did you try to date him? lameee! was your confession that bad?” he teases, but you and kana are still standing there, again with both jaws dropped on the wooden floors at the fact you even confessed to suguru and she’s dating his best friend.

where do you begin now? that you thought after all these years he was showing signs of feelings but it turns you’re actually just delusional? kana jabs at satoru’s side before raising an eyebrow at you, awaiting a response as well clearly. it’s the season where your exhales release as mist and yet you can feel an approaching drop of sweat down your forehead.

“can we start on one thing before making fun of me? and yeah he fucking rejected me after he stole my first kiss—” you stutter finally after a couple of moments, “but how the hell did he steal your first kiss though?—” kana interrupts right after, satoru even letting out a boisterous laugh at way you just keep fucking up your words.

“you fumbled badly. we’re going to championships too. you could’ve been one of those basketball star girlfriends,” he pokes, throwing you a can of beer from his bag before settling further into the seat he was at. “but really, i thought he liked you…so what did he actually do?”

you didn’t really notice it before you were too ashamed really to look at him, yet it’s the first time you’ve seen his cheshire like grin suddenly drop, a glimmer of concern laying in the blinding blues that swirled in his very eyes. has he always been upset once you first told him of this incident? for your sake?

the concealment of the anger through the vein that pops on his forehead was almost hidden if you hadn’t peered closer through the heavy bangs he adorns. you do great when you start to pace between the shelves surrounding you three, attempting to rest the worry that he may, in the simpleness of the vocabulary you have accumulated, knock the shit out of suguru when he arrives later.

oh how the tightening and crease around his knuckles grow pale through his grip on the table edge easily silence the very potential of any words to be said die in the closing of the space between your lips to possibly reveal what lies inside you. the fact he can do so, is impressive, admittedly.

you almost laugh at the way he now releases a huff of air or two when kana traces her manicured blinged nails along the veins on his soft hands though, relaxing him like how satoru himself does with his own dog, callie. she doesn’t appear to contain her raging annoyance at brother like how her supposed boyfriend (and his best friend) does from first glance, but you can still tell she does since she’s almost violently trembling (likely in words she’s about to yell suguru with) despite the truth she has two sweaters on and acting as if she’s in antarctica.

it’s also when you stand only a couple of inches away you can tell this relationship hadn’t been one that developed only recently. you don’t comment on it though.

“he rejected me.”

“…so what made you think he liked me then?” you ask, kicking the wooden seat to let yourself settle onto it before cracking open the metal can beneath your rigid nails.

“[y/n] wake up, what kinda “best friend” looks at somebody dumbstruck during class if he doesn’t like her?” the white haired boy sighs, rummaging with a sigh or two as he plucks out another beer from the cooler beside the leg of the wooden table.

kana nods in agreement, and when she doesn’t say much, that’s how you know someone has found the words of absolute perfection to voice what she must have thought (which is rare you admit).

“im pissed off because he does all of that lovey dovey shit and still gets to do you like that,” he chugs the gold corona past the openings of his lips, wincing immediately after, “aren’t you mad? i teased you about it but…if someone ever did that to me, i wouldn’t know what to believe,” he mumbles.

“is this really right to talk about during kana’s birthday?” you chuckle (rather awkwardly), glancing over at your best friend seemingly staring off into space. the splashing of your can doesn’t seem to rip through the silence between all of you anymore unfortunately.

you didn’t want to shit on suguru just yet for some unknown reason. perhaps, he’ll come back and say he was simply joking of course, so you wait to align with your anger.

“it’s not a very fun birthday if i find out that my best friend is sad because the love of her life is a pussy, sooo…” kana says finally, scurrying off to the magazine stand near the cashier, running right back to hand you a magazine a moment later. platinum highlights in her onyx hair look especially taken care of today you realize.

“what’s this about?”

“my apology for not telling you about satoruu obviously!” she wraps her arms around your shoulders, “and my thank you for the amazing gift you got me.”

you raise a brow at kana before shrugging, starting to flip through the overly decorated paper with scented perfume samples and plasters of the hottest idols at the moment. it bores you slightly after you have smelled the fifth sample of some random strawberry perfume, until you come across a little interview.

you have to admit. the idol being interviewed is stunning.

the questions seem a little two faced at first, like all the media could care is how many times she curls her hair to achieve the wavy beach effect, but you come across a section where she seems to try to help her oh so “unfortunate” audience.

it’s hilarious, yes, but you’re reading it like religious literature.

she doesn’t seem to divert from the typical “how to look better” guides, change your hair color, wear different makeup (both that are supposed to suit you better somehow), and foolery like that. but you can’t seem to ignore how your eyes linger on pink bold letterings soaked in messy glitter that also mention changing your style, diet, and everything.

you don’t want to admit it, but it seems tempting.

“earth to [y/n]?” kana grins, flickering your forehead as your head automocally shifts to her eyes staring into yours. you can tell she was late to arrive home yesterday since her concealer can’t even cover the depth of exhaustion meshed with the rosy, blushed flesh belonging to her face. “now you’re interested?”

“it’s lame.” you chuckle.

“was it really lame if you were enjoying it?” satoru pokes, and you roll your eyes before kana shrugs in agreement.

“he’s not going to suddenly leave whatever girl he likes just because i got a glow up, he’s not like that.” you sigh, resting your head in your hands as you daze off.

“you guys are next level delusional if you think me having a pokemon sort of evolution is the key to all this.” you slightly laugh, twirling your locks around a finger of yours.

when the flowery scent of your dollar store shampoo approaches your nose, it makes you wince for some reason. perhaps it’s because suguru told you he liked the way your hair smelled once. he never said it ever again though, and you wonder why at this moment you remember it in your pit of misery. a living grave of what could have been said in response to his compliment, to now to follow you to be stuck to your head from there on since you had (regrettably) only showed a smile at the time.

“whatever you say…” kana yawns, looking at her phone for a moment, “but if i say for my birthday wish I want you to do it, will that help?” she grinned.

“she got you there.” satoru whistles.

“shut up.” you mutter, taking a sip of your beverage before continuing, loosening up.

“…it’s not that i don’t want to, but i don’t know if it’s the best idea,” you mutter, setting the laminated sheets of thin paper on the table as your eyes linger once more. “it’s just, changing my entire look, for a guy, isn’t very productive either right before our exams, idiots. ever thought of that?” you groan, running your fingertips through the base of your hair.

“not me though, i have one year left. i’ll worry about exams…next year? still, even if you guys have them, doesn’t mean you can’t have romance in your life. it's a piece of paper, and if you die alone because of it, it’s kinda your fault.” kana chirps, and satoru simply gives you an agreeing look to accompany his girlfriend’s disagreement to your qualms.

a look that can only mean, in the entire two years since he first moved to this small town to follow suguru mindlessly from the other school he had attended, that satoru knows he’s right for once. it worries you a bit because of his usual playful and rather talkative manner.

“but—”

“ah, happy birthday kana!” a long onyx haired girl cheers, unintentionally interrupting you as her figure walks through the glass doors, a familiar taller, coffee colored short hair girl following behind her, the cigarette between her maroon lips escaping their crevice to be thrown out in the bin immediately by her calloused hands.

“good timing for the both of you, now help convince [y/n] she doesn’t need suguru. and that I’m right, as I always am—” kana says, an immediate, “what even happened—” escaping from shoko’s lips soon afterwards as she applies lip gloss to hide the scent of the smoke on them.

“suguru rejected me, that’s what happened!” you blurt out, your brows furrowed as the apples of your cheek burnt up while the two that had entered let out a sigh. they soon sit down beside you, and an awkward moment of silence continues again.

“he told me he didn’t like me, and now kana is trying to convince me to go through some mega glow up to make him regret it.” you groan, shuffling through the cooler once more for another beer to cool off.

“and so because of that, [y/n] is releasing her anger on everybody,” satoru murmurs, taking another sip of his own drink before he whistles obliviously to avoid your piercing glare. “am not!—”

“so are you completely lucky go happy and not threatening to murder us?” he raises a brow, and your lips are sewn immediately. “see? she’s going to lose her damn marbles over this crap.” satoru chuckles, and they nod in a certain understanding.

“i just, i feel bad for ruining for kana’s birthday like this. I admitted to being in love with her brother, and now i’m having some group therapy session.” you huff, looking over at the birthday girl as she sits on a shelf all casually before she grins at you after adjusting her bangs.

“well, how about we celebrate kana’s birthday first, and then we can do whatever the birthday girl wants for you.” utahime chuckled sheepishly, grabbing a lighter effortlessly from one of the twenty seven pockets on shoko’s cargos, before directly looking at satoru. you’re suspicious why she knows where it is so easily, but you’re too grateful for her excellent topic shifts to to say anything.

the rest of the group nods, and you take a big sigh of relief.

“where’s suguru with the cake?” utahime adds, her eyes rushing to meet the ink hues of the taller boy who entered the room as he grins at her.

“here, fifteen dollars for a birthday cake is pretty insane.” suguru says, placing the cake down on the table beside you before he waves at you, yet you can see his eyebrows scrunch when you look away instead of reciprocating it. nobody comments on it though.

“is it because you’re broke suguru?” satoru interrupts out of the blue, getting up to ruffle suguru’s silky locks beneath the pads of his fingertips before a smirk emerges on his face from his joy of annoying his best friend. “personally, me, i have never complained about two digit prices.” the white haired boy whistles, walking away as he took out the number one and seven candles in his bag, pushing them down into the soft cream of the cake.

suguru roll his eyes before he laughs, and everybody surrounds the cake.

it’s cheap, proven by the buttercream frosting reaching peaks that seem to grow appetizingly weak the further your eyes follow them, but you still have to admire the thick script of the simple ‘happy birthday kana’ likely made by the middle aged cat lady at the local bakery. it’s not too perfect (she seems to have forgotten cursive for some letters) but she improvised its mess into something somewhat bearable to stare at.

“ready?” utahime says, lighting the rainbow candles.

“happy birthday to youuu, happy birthday to you,”

and there everybody sang a simple tune of happy birthday for kana. it felt a little weird to sing it in a library so early in the morning, yet oddly jovial to be able to witness that over the moon glimmer of light in kana’s eyes as she made silly poses for shoko to record her during all your singing. as long as she was happy, nobody cared how idiotic they looked.

“happy birthday dear kana,”

satoru was no exception either clearly, because you spot his hand around her waist despite suguru being right beside her, but you pretend to have not. it wasn’t your business in the end, and as long as he continued to make her happy as this obnoxious singing did, love shall prevail as corny as it may sound, you thought.

“happy birthday to you!”

and the song has ended. you stifle a laugh as satoru removed his hand at the speed of light as suguru began to cut the cake.

“thank you, thank you!” kana chirped, hugging everybody rather tight before she dug in into her slide of cake, the ombré layers all smushed as her fork pierced it’s layers, simply to entertain her taste buds as quickly as she got the utensil to do so. “it’s really good,” she says with a mouth full of it, everybody laughing as they soon got themselves a slice.

but it’s not really a birthday party without obscene amounts of pizza and junk food, so she didn’t spend long on that cake before digging into the steaming pizza that was delivered just as she took her last bite.

“happy birthday again idiot,” you grin when you poke at her, hugging her side once more as she hugs you back. she radiated the sun, and you simply wanted to be in the radius of her shine today.

everybody started to open drinks after a while of eating, leaving on a playlist in the background as they chatted.

──────────────────────────────

time seemed to fly by fast, because it was eight o clock pm now and you could feel the dim stars ever so slightly seep into the moles and freckles of your flesh through the opening of the slightly cracked window. it’s from when shoko wanted another smoke and utahime whined about its oh so ‘deadly’ effects since shoko herself thought it was smart to open a window in the middle of freezing autumn. no one complained in the end though since the slight breeze helped to not end up wasted immediately, which was nice.

you look over your shoulder as you remain pressed against the shelf of science fiction, noticing your best friend almost knocked out on the floor as satoru sits right beside her on the carpet, stroking her back. you thought satoru would be more drunk by now, but he seems to rely more on a lollipop at the moment to fix his oral craving for some reason. you wonder if they’re so drunk that they can’t tell suguru is only ten feet away sitting down at a table. but you can’t blame the couple too much. he’s too drunk himself to notice anything since it seems since he can barely keep his head up.

speaking of him though, you feel a bit sick when you see his eyes glance on shoko a little too often for your liking. utahime was oddly focused on a kids manga so she wasn’t talking much in that group conversation, but you wonder what could be so entertaining in their world that suguru isn’t talking to you at the moment (even after this morning’s fiasco.)

sure you confessed, but why is he treating you like some stranger? he didn’t even talk to you that much during the party. and yeah maybe you're mad because your drinks have made you more sensitive than ever, but you felt oddly sober enough to realize you should get out before he could tell the look of jealousy in your eyes from staring at the two of them.

shoko has been your friend ever since suguru came back from his stay with his dad. she hasn’t been anything but a shoulder for you, always getting you to stop being a ‘stick in the ass’ as she crudely refers to it, and never giving you shit despite sometimes acting manic. so it makes you feel worse you’re jealous of her right now.

you stand up slowly, waving bye to satoru and kana, only a murmur from the both of them to be heard as you slowly push open the glass door. you walk the night in a shiver, yet the chill sobers you more as your eyes are glued on the concrete.

shoko’s pretty. short brown choppy hair. it wouldn’t look the best on you as it did on her. her cool tight eyeliner and the way she pulls off any bold color of lipstick must be tempting for suguru, and you can’t blame him for liking someone like her. the way she was with the flow, and you were exactly the opposite. she liked those bands you don’t tell your parents about and instead just steal their car to go see them at a underground bar. shoko was the type to just so cooly light a shared cigarette with her effortlessly. if you tried you would probably burn the other person’s lips somehow.

you feel horrible.

you can’t be mad at him for finding someone else prettier. and you can’t be mad at her if she found herself to like him. what kinda friend would you be?

so you wonder why your feet have led you to the park you and suguru frequented.

and you even wonder more why your feet lead to let you reside on the swing you always chose ever since you first came. your hands grip the bit of a rust on the chain, and you let the weight of your body slowly push you as you think.

what were you doing here but reminiscing over a man that wasn’t yours? you feel stupid, and the drinks don’t help but to cause your tear ducts to spill a little more than they should as you sob out into the silence of the night for the decaying nature around to take your anguish with them before their greenery finally disappears with the upcoming winter.

it doesn’t help when you accidentally look over to the swing that suguru always took when you guys played together, and you just remember how cool he always looked after he ran from his basketball game to accompany you whenever you looked lonely swinging by yourself. He would talk your ear off, and as much as some may have loathed his pity and slight savior complex disguised as a philosophy of kindness , you embraced it with all you had.

and now you kinda wish even after everything he would do the same. you continued to weep, wiping your eyes even if you had some half assed glitter on your lids from this morning.

“you okay?” suguru whispered.

shit.

“why are you here? thought you were avoiding me, suguru.”

you don’t notice the way his heart pangs at the lack of your nickname of his.

“i was passing by to go home.” his voice cracks. suguru’s voice always does that when he lies. you wonder what is there to hide now. but you don’t ask.

“then go home.”

“you don’t own the park.” he chuckles heartily, and it somehow even makes you roll your eyes during your misery. “and why are you here?” suguru whistles.

“because i can.”

“then i can too.” he says as he rests himself on the swing beside yours like he always has, an uncomfortable silence between the two of you for a minute or two. “you drunk?”

“are you?” you raise an eyebrow.

“yeah.” he nods, holding up his crushed can.

suguru never remembers anything when he’s drunk. and you don’t think he’s lying since his typical bun is disheveled. it’s too many strands out of the hair ties grasp to be considered to be a sober suguru. you’re kinda glad he’s not sober to remember this state of yours by sunrise tomorrow.

“well I’m drunk then too.” you laugh, and he grins at the sound of your odd joy.

“cool.”

more silence between the both of you.

“suguru, why did you kiss me this morning if you don’t like me?” you blurt, and you keep your head low in case your eyes suddenly spill tears you don’t mean to.

he’s silent.

you feel your body burning in embarrassment once more, and you stand from your seat, so you can possible run out of there, but when you try, you feel a familiar hand grabbing on to yours.

“don’t leave.” he whispers, and you glance to see his eyes looking weak as they stare into yours.

“then tell me why you did it.” you mutter.

“i felt like it. it was just because, i was still tired, and i wasn’t thinking straight. i didn’t mean to do that to you.”

you wish he could have just been honest and told you the real reason. suguru doesn’t do things for no simple reason such as human impulses, and he must think you’re dumb to believe him.

“be honest suguru.”

“i’m telling you the truth.”

“don’t lie.”

“im not ready for a relationship.” he starts, “and i guess i really liked how your makeup looked, since you forgot to take it off when we hung out last night. the smudged eyeliner, and you know…” suguru shrugs.

shoko did your makeup like how she does hers typically earlier that yesterday afternoon. didn’t that mean he just saw a piece of her in you at that moment? and that’s why he was

tempted? to get a sample of what it must be like to kiss her? sure you both don’t look alike, but men are primal creatures, and they simply focus on the idiotic things rather than the big picture. he liked you, because you resembled her for a split second with smudged burgundy lips.

you don’t think he knew that, but you couldn’t say that to him without breaking down at the seam at the moment, so you keep silent for another moment to compose whatever you have right now.

“oh. okay.” you decide to say in the end, about to start walking again, but he again tugs you back.

“you’re leaving?”

you thought he was joking when he said don’t leave. but if rationale says to leave him, you just shake your head no, and you go back to sitting ‘a bit too close to comfort’ kinda close to him on the swings.

he doesn’t speak, using his hand to rest on your thigh. you let your own hand rest on that hand. you’re happy he’s kind enough to let you do that.

you would regret this night, but you’re going to blame the alcohol you had to say that this was your last hurrah before highschool was over.

you two don’t look at each other, just looking at whatever. you soon see the broken down car from the morning, but it wasn’t enough for you to want to start a conversation. it’s still sitting there. like you guys are.

ironic as it was, for the rest of the night, under the full moon, you both didn’t speak as you remained there, and simply enjoyed the presence of each other in these moments.

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starsologyy · 1 year

Text

𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑, 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: confessing to someone you thought had also liked you back doesn’t seem to go as you planned.

SERIES MASTERLIST

𝐍𝐎𝐕 𝟗 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟕, 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆.

[Y/N]’S DIARY.

drafts of the chill wind flew amidst the showers of raindrops floating delicate in the sky, following the sunlight pouring into your room as it caresses your eye bags built from fatigue to awake you from slumber. Little to do as you now gazed at the ceiling, but part of you rather enjoyed the simpleness of it all. When streaks of sapphire mixed with violet to resemble a mix of a sea of flowers suddenly flutter past the roof you have mesmerized trance on, you realize a butterfly has taken a cozy habitat inside your room this very morning. Possibly to signify fast change on the slowest day you could ever dream of. It cracks a smile on your face nonetheless, and it causes you to wonder how city-folk lived without noticing these rather insignificant things. Stillness though of course, was never guaranteed in land where everybody must occupy their hands at a given moment; yet, little of their ambition still lays a chance to be better than the calmness of the dawn and the charm of nature you arise to

No better though to the haste of town, you’re a foolish girl who accompanied the moonlight to sooth its loneliness when the people and daylight rested outside your window. With your rigorous yet consistent scribbles on fresh white paper, school is what regretfully keeps you alive against will in this journey of these constant evenings. Hilarious of a joke it was to judge others for not enjoying peace when you yourself immersed in the opposite of it. Perhaps to fill the void of daytime noise, you usually caved in to call to the boy who lives opposite your bedroom window during those moments. He maintains stillness while solving his math homework, and you interrupt it with your reading of English homework. Ironic though you would describe it when he criticized the stress of it; yet, he was the one who kept you awake during these sessions.

A sigh escapes your lips with the subject of these revelations.

The result of this morning was from one of those same nights. ‘Ru’ you would usually murmur by now to wake him out of his sleep beside you. His full name’s ‘Suguru Geto’ and yet the childhood habit to call him your nickname lingers similar to how the scent of your dad’s coffee grounds does on your clothes when it seeps through the crack of your door every sunrise. The joy of familiarity and care you feel when participating in this habit admittedly makes you want to question why you do, but you decide not to.

Suguru continues to lie in utter peace amidst your cotton comforters as you start to lose focus-ness to the abundance of your illusive thoughts at the moment. he had no plan to awaken anytime soon it seemed (despite your clock signaling 8 o clock last time you checked), so you were stuck at this very moment. Aside from the exams for university soon arriving and the studying that’s going to accompany it, you can't remember what else should occupy your head. It was on the rims of your lips, maybe even to the cuticles you probably shouldn’t pick. Ah, what could it be? Did something happen last night?

Oh!

“Even when we watch these shitty dramas I think you’re still the prettiest girl.”

Oh yeah. That was what happened last night. Your childhood best friend told you that you were pretty while you guys were watching some cheesy kdrama in the middle of night.

7 hours ago, your brows scrunched at a scene where the main character rambled about how ugly she was even though she had appeared to be adorning at least 20 layers of makeup for that scene. And if that goddess said that, You were thinking, what were you then with all this acne and blemishes on your skin? You weren’t sure if you had been obvious to your own insecurities resurfacing at the time, but he clearly did.

Because at that moment, Suguru had mumbled those 14 words which bought you out of them almost immediately . Only then you noticed how his eyes laid on you in a slow trance, pupils dancing and being mesmerized to survey from the softness of your pillowy lips to the way the crack of your delicate smile could even surpass the beauty of the sun itself. A gaze in his eyes that could lead you believing he found you prettier than that actress on tv in your wildest dreams. “—Don’t even need makeup honestly.” He even whispered afterwards, like he needed further to steal air out of your throat.

You try to reason that he was simply joking like those other times, but the way his cheeks remained flushed when you turned back to look, told you that you could never disregard this as a lie when you had all the evidence you needed. Some would consider this you simply being desperate, but you dared gained courage to argue that this night reminded you of the feelings you kept stored inside your heart.

He was flustered before turning back to the TV.

Lame (lack of) response yeah, but what a night it was, to be reminded of your insecurities, then to be reminded of your feelings for your childhood again. You had decided to forget about it at that late hour, afraid it would affect your studies for the exam in the future.

But here you were this morning, again pondering upon possibilities that laid scattered behind the thinly veil of fate if you had even whispered that you heard the lowness of his utmost kindness. A lie to yourself, it was a crime to Suguru you committed last night. However, let’s say you suddenly confess the truth of always wanting to be more to him and he accepts it. If you had then entertained the fantasy of being the one beside him when he grows old and starts to wear knitted sweaters (you would be the one to do), what would it entail? You picked at the scenario in a manner similar to a loose stitch on your pajama sweater, but you couldn’t find con in any of those of domestic scenarios, leading to a conclusion that had caught up finally since its emergence from middle school.

You still liked Suguru—hell, even loved Suguru.

Probably would even marry him based on that knitting scenario.

Your heart lays intertwined with the mere existence of him; how its threads pull to every word he whispers to you, how it beats to the rhythm of his own, how it yearns to even be closer than what it seems right. You could recall every detail about him if he asked randomly, like how Suguru stared at you for hope every time he’s at a game even if he told you he wasn’t worried in the previous 10 minutes before, preferred to keep his meals separated by food group, and even hated wearing fuzzy socks because they’re itchy to him.

Somewhere inside you knew as well that Suguru would be able to tell you the small things about yourself. You two knew each other like you were the only people alive at this movement, and yet you have always forbid yourself from ever telling him what you truly felt about him even when opportunities have risen since the moment you first met in elementary.

To bathe in the naivety of adolescence, dancing amidst the winds of the fleeting carelessness this world gifts all at this era of time, your youth used to cradle significant hope that he would ever realize how your heart longed for his own. To age however is to be punished with the inevitability of truth, and why you had soon learned to forbid mention of those sentiments was so you could save your dying pride if he had even mumbled words resembling the idea of rejection. No matter how many shojos you could read in spare time, whimsical they would only ever be to give you hope that Suguru would regard you as someone prettier than the girls he witnessed everyday. Nothing rather special you were even past the idea of beauty, even lacking possession of talent that would’ve made you stand out in this world. It was selfless, righteous almost of you to keep this tenderness encaged in the vacancy of your heart if he meant he would receive better than what you and this small town could offer.

Yet you question why you still didn’t feel good when he told you that he had to reside with his father up north for a while when both of you were eleven. Nauseous you remember feeling when he didn’t smile as if he was merely joking about this, that you would actually be alone once more while he was gone. The tears you wept and wailed when you tried to pull on his arm to not let him enter that car, all went to waste that day. However while he had whispered to you he’ll call you everyday, you were still too young to understand life without him to be content enough even with that claim of his.

Somehow after years you still remembered what Suguru said to you when he arrived home eventually, climbing out of the cramped van his mom could only afford with the little support she had from her job at the nearby tailor shop. You weren’t the first he approached because of the distance you attempted to have, but you never forgot the tears that aligned with the tiredness of his soft eyes when you two made the slightest of contact, like he had been waiting his lifetime for the gods to reward him this moment. Many things happened during his absence and you were tempted to leave them in the dust known as silence for the thought he wouldn’t care, and yet somewhere you knew that he would carry their burden as his own if it meant it would relieve the heaviness of your heart; so, you decide to tell him, and he broke.

The worst of you he accepted with no hesitation. No matter how many times you had told him to leave you, pushed him and had him waiting on nobody to come out of the door, he would be there. Perhaps it was guilt for all that happened during his disappearance, but he never seemed exhausted dealing with your stubbornness. Suguru cradled your flaws like they’re what to praise, leaving you to break into the comfort of his arms eventually when your anger had ultimately grown dormant. The warmth of his chest and the gentle rubbing motion of his contrasting rough hands on your freckled back telling you that he would take anything you throw at him, and that he’ll be here to sooth them when you’re ready to.

Somewhere in your soul yelled the reemergence of feelings for Suguru during the first couple of years, but you decided to bury it like the frog you dissected in biology at the time, so it could be forgotten for the sake of this preservation of joy. From there, High School emerged to be greater than middle school, in which meeting new friends, working at the part time restaurant, sampling the tastiest of treats at the nearby corner shops led time to pass the both of you so swiftly in a mere blink of an eye.

Eighteen the both of you now were, though, searching universities to eventually do their exams for. The two of you had planned the same university, but inside you knew you would have to settle for less, for he to be greater than you even in the intelligence you once had great ego in. Suguru will be accepted, and he’ll be ripped apart from your fragile grasp once more like you were the preteens from seven years ago. You had wanted to forget the inevitable, but it lays its hands around your neck to steal breath when you try to find even the slightest solace you’ll be able to pass the eventual exam of entering the same university as him. Fleeting it was to search for chance, you usually stuck to basking in the joy you found from spending time with him. But even this morning it suffocates you despite him being right beside you.

Delusion you called it when you used to twirl a strand of your hair along your finger, daydreaming the day that he acknowledges you as a girl. Now that it happened just last night, your body instead remains planted in horror of learning how to face the unrest of the unknown mystery from your grasp.

You let a quiet sigh take the place of the plethora of words you would’ve wished to exasperate to Suguru’s ears if he was awake, to perhaps communicate acknowledgment of what worries lies beneath your own skin. Picking gently at thread sewn cheaply on your sheets, you hum rhythmic melody to decide what you shall do next to decide this heartbreaking fate. Coward as you could be, to perhaps leave it to fate, to let whatever chance that exists guide you both into whatever you’re meant to be. Yet, that didn’t feel right for once. Inside your conscience, you realize guilt would be all you knew from there on if you had let the fate of your ignorant silence hold your peace. And you realize you don’t think you can live with yourself if bitterness of regret was all you could taste on the very tip of your tongue.

So with that, you decide to marry yourself to the foolish phenomena known as risk at this very moment instead, letting the fleeting sensation of freedom seep deep into every pore of your flesh so you could perhaps have a chance at the semblance of satisfaction without regret for once. In short, you were going to tell Suguru you loved him to get it off your chest once and for all. When he woke up of course.

“ I know I’m hot but staring at me while I’m sleeping is a little creepy you have to admit.”

Fuck he’s awake.

Forcing your head to swiftly turn to whatever you could lay sight on at the moment, ready to deny his accusations with a playful remark you’ll come up with in under a millisecond, he takes you by awful surprise when he slightly lifts up his (notably well built) body to yours, holding you in his grasp.

“Come on, only guilty people hide themselves. Never seen an innocent person hide.”

“Whatever.”

“What are you thinking about then?”

“Nothing. Promise.”

“Yeah because ‘nothing’ would be you tossing around in bed like some fucking maniac.” He comments, “So tell me, what really has you tryna hide something from me if you’re thinking about it this hard? You don’t seem to be so innocent, you know.” He teases, accompanying it with a singsong-like voice, intentionally grating your nerves (even if you have to admit he was right about you lying.)

“University. we’ll be separated soon, you know? guess i’ve been a little worried.” your lips whispered finally, murmuring almost, the gentleness in the strings of words you chose so light that the currents of wind and sea decide to spare you the everlasting burden of those worries in their amazement, letting him sustain them all instead. You roll your eyes at the thought of telling yourself before you would confess the truth of your fondness, and yet here you are now, bothering him with meaningless concerns instead. “I’m not even that amazing or whatever. I can’t catch up to you even if I study twenty four seven for those exams.”

Suguru lied in thought for a moment seemingly, only to conceal the two of you from the world swiftly with his hands dragging the blanket to lie on top of you both. being under the sheets together like children, you dared turn your body to witness his stare on yours. selfish, you would call him when he appeared in your gaze completely, for him to then lower his head merely centimeters close to your own, curling slowly into the emptiness near your neck to hear even the slightest of hitches of your breath. “what the hell are you doing?—”

There you realized the situation, that you were under the sheets with him, like children again, heart to heart, only centimeters away.

You realize eventually that maybe those concerns weren’t meaningless. Meaningful they would be before you have to decide whether or not to admit that you want to be his as long as he’ll take you. Maybe you’ll find a flaw to make an issue out of, so you wouldn’t have to tell Suguru your feelings by excusing your cowardice with denial.

“Come on, you don’t think I’m letting you grow apart again, right. Right? Tell me.” he muttered, sparing no sense of embarrassment when he stared directly at you. Suguru’s kind, and he’s not making you feel awful. It’s the bare minimum but your lips start to tremble when you leap faith to dare admit truth in the fragility yet seclusion of this makeshift “home” from others. “Ru, us growing apart is bound to happen.” you could almost feel a lake forming along your water lines, “so many things I just haven’t told you cause I don’t want you to know my secrets before you have to leave again. What’s the use of knowing something about my life?”

“If you go to the university, I know you’ll join the basketball team and become a rich engineer with a spot on the national team probably later on.” “I have nothing. Nothing is waiting for me like crap is for you. Don’t you understand that?”

An uncomfortable silence laced your room at the moment, and you could tell both of you lacked a chance of falling asleep again to the melody of the hummingbirds outside anytime soon until an answer was said. You decide to arise out of the bundle of fabric, resting your back on the wooden headboard, trembling to find somewhere to hide the recency of the puffiness surrounding your eyes. Suguru follows soon after, inching closer once more to find the dip of your hips to pull you beside him. Movements like these never seemed to confuse you in the past but now they left you restless once more.

“Jesus it’s okay to cry—but come on. That’s not going to help make you feel any better.” He grumbled, ruffing your hair in the large palms of his hand. “You’re not going to suddenly end up fucked up after highschool.” Suguru flicks your forehead, “And I’m not going to just suddenly disappear, even when you think you might not get into that university.”

“Don’t worry about things you know I’ll be there for. What’s the point of crying when things fix themselves? A uni doesn’t do shit anyways. You’ll find something more worth crying about eventually.”

Suguru’s voice attempts to stay brave in the face of your fears when he says this; however its fragility you can tell cracks when it forces his own terror urges to release its ugly head. You can tell a part of him didn’t know the truth of it all, but he was willing to be dishonest if it meant you would even crack the slightest of a smile. Man a being who lives his life full of righteousness in his veins with sureness in every word he calls out, he tries to make things right when he knows it has been wronged. Suguru lives his life no different than who he is as this being, assuring you endlessly like he had eternity to spare if it meant your happiness would be guaranteed. Especially after his plenty of mistakes that had convinced you he would disappear again, he seemed to have precaution when it came to your worries. It makes you happy, admittedly, the thought of your existence being so persistent in his head that he bends over spine and sanity to give what your heart pleases. His values of truth and righteousness seemed to pale in value when it was your joy on the line, and the cynical pleasure of knowing that becomes obvious where you now have a lopsided grin on your face.

“Guess someone’s believing me now since you’re smiling like an idiot now. I missed that smile, you know?” Suguru chuckles, pinching your cheek in his hand to ignite a somehow wider grin on you. “Very cute–” he closes his eyes, extending his sentence; “For an annoying ass motherfucker—”, he ends off, even cackling afterwards at the frown that quickly approaches your face afterwards.

“Whatever.” You punched gently at his chest, resting your hands in your lap before your eyes strayed off to the nature outside your window, letting him catch his breath after his (not) humorous joke on you. He seemed to relieve your main concerns before confessing, so there shouldn't be anything left to prevent you from saying anything finally. Your senses seem to heighten out of their fright though at the thought of doing so, and at its pinnacle you could almost hear every slight movement of the strawberry clock on the beige wall as if every click it made represented a skipping beat inside your running heart. Soon, after a minute now passes by, you now decide you’re going to wait for some form of sign to appear. Something to push you out of this standstill state. (Perhaps) Luckily for you though, amidst the golden and bitter caramel leaves of Autumn, a certain butterfly appears anew to seize your wandering sight with its cerulean hue, fluttering wings that behold their spectacular gradient of iridescent indigo. It seems to call out to you to speak this truth or you will be forced forever to hold an insincere notion of peace. In your very own nature all you knew was to be awfully rash, so you decide to listen to the creature's outcries to the end. Its presence plans to be the fragment of fate’s will for you to do this, so you enact it finally.

“Geto Suguru, I like you.”

His eyes widened, but his lips remained glue you think since you heard nothing after you shut your eyes to avoid having to see whatever face may appear. You’re not sure if the butterfly has left your side, yet you don’t seem to stop or stumble somehow, letting the flow of adrenaline take over you.

“I really really like you Suguru. And I'm not talking about a stupid school crush either—but I love you so much that I hope we’ll get married in a flower area in this shitty countryside—and I was being a pussy to tell you because I didn’t want to ruin whatever we had before university—” your hands start to bunch the bed sheets, “And if everything is so easy for you to understand and you can say that say you’ll be with me all of the time, is this really that surprising to hear?—” You had plans to continue on with this rant, but it’s clear he had different ones when he suddenly places his lips on yours.

Geto Suguru, your childhood best friend, was kissing you at this moment.

How the nerves contained inside your very veins freeze as if they were exposed to the harshness of the autumn breeze outside; yet, they can’t resist leaning into the warmth of Suguru’s touch when his fingertips simply dance on your exposed skin. They leave crackles of sudden warmth almost when they move and make their way further down your waist, defrosting any nervousness hidden inside you. And with little to hold back, you continue to press the softness of your lips further into his, enjoying the delicate sensation of how they connect like they were puzzles in a set out of the million you desperately search for. When he kisses you, you realize Suguru seems to desperately try to continue apologizing for all of the tears and years he left you, the months and the days where he left you abandoned to what lies in the vastness of this world. Suguru kisses you familiarly like you were his wife, and he has finally returned for the fourth lifetime you guys share so he can meet you and marry you.

All of this in the mere seconds he continued, to then simply pull apart after almost a minute or two it felt like. He looks almost relieved for a moment, only for his brows to furrow as he jumps out of bed to find the beater of a tank top he left on your bed last night. Muttering from multiple curses stringing his rigids breaths, he forces on the baggy jeans he wore yesterday, only to tighten his leather belt a second later, leaving you no crevice of instant to even ask or stop him.

To find meaning of this, shouldn’t it be obvious he had accepted whatever scraps of a confession you gave him? Why would have he kissed you if he hadn’t meant to say yes? Questions of those nature form inside your throat, and you knew you lacked maturity at 18 when you decided to lace the words with venom in the hurt you were bathed in, from the possibility he didn’t accept these feelings despite stealing your first kiss. Even your naivety proved itself true from the way the tears of your frustration started to swell within your water lines. But all of those things didn’t matter if you could only figure how everything suddenly went south as if suddenly your words don’t even matter anymore when he’s about to reach the golden knob of the wooden door.

“Wait so this means you like me? Come on, you kissed me back! At least tell me. You were so fucking ironic on making me tell you how I felt so at least tell me how you do.” You call, standing up to now chase after him before pulling on his arm.

Suguru stops.

He stands still for a moment, deciding to give you the decency of his direct attention. You should’ve been glad for that. But what he says afterwards, you wish he had spared you a saint’s mercy to leave you clueless.

“I don’t. I could never love you. Forget that kiss. It was a mistake. All it was.” He almost raises his voice when he says this, making sure every single fragment of your soul hears his regret in agreeing to whatever spell you had put him under at that moment. Suguru loses the warmth he once had in his touch before he tugs away from your grasp once more, likely to escape to the downstairs of your house.

You knew it was no use to cry, how he wouldn’t magically accept your feelings even if you had a tantrum right there and then, but you couldn’t help but let droplets about a river's amount run down your cheeks. There was nothing left to say now clearly. No words in the immense vocabulary of the world to convince him to stay. Silence had carried itself to be all that the air contained now, leaving it to be heavy as you had anticipated to soon hear the sound of the door opening and closing from his departure. The silence cuts itself though when you hear Suguru whisper under shallow breath.

“Don’t cry over me you know, just, let’s pretend it didn’t happen. Please. Can’t bear to see you cry.”

A scoff releases amidst the chokes bunched in your throat at that statement, but your heart betrays you when your tears seem to dry to mist as his hand reaches to sooth the top of your heart. Its weight leaves after a blink, and then you hear a rushed sorry, the sound of the door closing follows it.

“Go. Go away.” You manage the guts to spit despite the lack of his presence in this inhospitable space. With nothing else to do, you decide to see if your friends were somehow awake this morning to go bother, hurriedly throwing pillows to the ground in search for your almost dead phone most likely. You locate it finally, and you plan to call the two friends you knew were definitely up by the way they texted you and Suguru last night to come visit in the morning.

Maybe they were expecting Suguru to come with you, but no way in hell.

“Hey, Can I come over later? Before 10? Happy birthday by the way, Kana.” You say when they pick up the call, trying to clear the congestion in your chest to not make the breakdown you had a moment before so obvious. Kana. Your other best friend. Satoru, your very close friend. Surely both of them had space for you even before the agreed meet up time.

And luckily for you, they did have space by the way their voices reach a pitch no like other to say of course you could. You’re quick to say thanks and end the call, collapsing to sit against the wall of this tiny bedroom. Kana’s birthday gifts remain stagnant on the shelves of your wall to remind you to take it when it leaves, but it serves to leave you in the agony of the misfortune that your first ever rejection came from her older brother.

How would you even tell Suguru’s sister and best friend that you tried telling him about your longtime crush? You would have to figure that out before nine o'clock, and with about thirty minutes to spare, you take the liberty to scream into the pillow with your back facing the ceiling for a good chunk of the time about it. Like a child you kicked and yelled to seemingly no end, possibly hoping that somewhere inside the wretchedness barely held behind the cages of your ribs, Suguru would hear this anguish you’re going through and finally tell you he was simply joking in the end; however, the room remains silent.

All that could ever have a hint of sound now came from the emerging fragments of your thoughts, how they attempt to consume woe to dare convince you that this was the right thing. for the better of it, of course. it couldn’t be you in the end if Suguru had desired success. Yet, somewhere inside the unfurling chaos in which you start to pick at the skin at the tips of your fingers, you start to sob once more. If he was doing the right thing, why was it hurting so much?

Almost fifteen minutes later, gravity seems to have abandoned you when you force yourself to rise from the wrinkled sheets you ruined and your knees can barely stand straight; however, your hurt forces you to find something decent to wear despite this fatigue, likely out of the consolation that “you didn’t need his validation anyways”. You then tie your sneakers as you stare out to gauge what weather you’ll curse (the one you realize you have dressed too thin for), and that’s when you witness a familiar presence from before.

Because in your hurt, you somehow see the same butterfly from this morning flap its wings again, now taking haste to depart from the still it once occupied.

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