suguru looks at you and thinks he could tell you everything.
it's tempting—how you hold his gaze when others normally avoid it. anyone else and their eyes dart away immediately, blurring him into the background. not with you though; with you, he exists in central focus.
there's a strand of your hair that's fallen out of place, and he reaches to tuck it behind your ear, quickly. it's a trick, a sleight of hand that conceals the tremble of his fingertips.
(your breath hitches when he grazes your cheek.)
the noise in the cafe is a symphony of indistinct chatter and soft alternative folk music, with ceramics clinking as the constant underlying beat. none of it is supposed to go together, but it carries the ambiance in its harmony.
he leans in closer when you speak.
you continue your story, off on a tangent already; his head tilts to the side, a finger to his temple as he nods along, lips curling at the edges fondly. this same look has made others nervous, flustered, but you seem unfazed; meeting him eye-to-eye overtly.
which isn't normal.
and if he's being truly honest with himself, none of this—what he's doing, thinking, how he's feeling—is normal.
suguru believes in secrets, that some things are better kept to himself.
but, it's one look into your eyes, at the way you regard him so unlike everybody else that has him wondering how you'd react if he tells you you look pretty instead of nice today—how you are pretty much a frequent visitor to his thoughts lately.
(you talk and talk and talk because you can never tell what he's thinking—mysterious smile matched with an unnerving stare is a combination too deadly.)
he doesn't do 'brunches'—it's either a late breakfast or an early lunch, pick one—yet he finds himself seated in a cafe at 10:27 a.m., having one with you.
the lock to his chest has been tampered with; if he dusts it off, he'll find your fingerprints, left behind unknowingly. you are innocent until proven guilty, but his lips, usually shut tight, are now slowly unzipping; it's you, the root of all this.
if he tells you he likes looking at you—might always want to—would you consider having another brunch with him? to stay longer in that suspended in-between of breakfast and lunch time?
(you blink, suguru still leaned in, listening.)
(if you tuck a strand of his hair behind his ear, will his breath hitch just the same?)
for @rinniessance; a lil birthday gift for you angie bby! (i might be a lil early posting this... oop!) i've never written sugu but wanted to try for you 🥹 ily you beautiful soul!! (not a birthday fic itself but i hope i gave a decent characterisation of him! 🥺)
thank you notes: @mysugu @soumies for helping me try to figure this man out 😭
comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡