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lowkenuinely going through it rn

emergency contact; suguru geto

things to know: one-shot, fem!reader, they're exes, lowercase intended, suggestive language, substance (ab)use (alcohol), addiction, depression, self sabotage, not proofread, angst, listened to habits stay high , iloveit , and i'll change for you on repeat when writing this, hurt/comfort, a bit of fluff and crack.

you practically wiped off the face of the earth after you and suguru broke up ten months ago.

well, to him you did.

suguru texted you a few times after the breakup just to see how you were holding up but you never replied. he came to realize a few weeks after that you blocked him and his obnoxious white-haired best friend on all socials, deleted his number, and were actively avoiding every spot he could potentially be at like the plague.

he figured it all out on his own. you weren't replying to his messages so he went to check your social media. he was greeted with a user not found page. when satoru noticed his best friend was more quiet and zoned out than usual, he snatched his phone from him to see what he had been staring at for the past ten minutes.

"oh, yikes." he started, giving the phone back to him. "no biggie. just check from my account— you're kidding. what the fuck did i do?!"

he saw you three times over the past ten months. the the first occurance was at the dispensary. he was on his way out and you were on your way in. he opened the door for you and you quite literally turned and walked away.

the second was at a friend's funeral. he passed way unexpectedly in a tragic accident. you paid your respects and the moment you saw he was also there, you left.

you found yourself another coffee shop, gym, grocery store, literally everything. you stopped going to places you had no business going to as well.

gas stations? you didn't drive, so you stopped.

the pet supply store? you didn't have a pet but he did. why bother?

shoko's house? he lives in the apartment complex right across from her's. they're closer and have always been closer. you didn't have to see her at her place anymore.

you also distanced yourself from any mutual friends you had just to lessen the risk of seeing him too. he was having breakfast with shoko when he learned that.

"how's she been? i just wanna know if she's okay."

"i wouldn't know," shoko shrugged, taking a bite of her breakfast sandwich. "she doesn't talk to me much anymore."

"can you figure out? she has me blocked on everything."

"ha," she chuckled while pulling her phone out. "serves you right. i'd do the same."

he really did want to stay in contact with you after the breakup, but he knew better. he knew you wouldn't be able to do that, and it was selfish of him to even expect that. he honestly didn't even know if he himself could hold that promise either, so he understood why you went mia on him.

you could imagine his surprise when he looked down at his phone and saw a call coming from you.

he was at the gym with satoru. suguru was like a night owl. he'd always prefer doing things at night. he'd tell you that's when he felt the most productive—and he was.

he worked an overnight job, did all of his school work at night, and in this instance, he was getting a gym sesh in past midnight with his best friend.

he had just gotten out of the shower after hitting back and biceps, ending the night with cardio. his towel wrapped low around his waist, water droplets dripping onto his body from his hair.

as he finished drying his hair, lotioning, and putting some clothes on, listening to his best friend yap about whatever the fuck, his phone lit up on the counter.

he thought it was strange that someone would be calling him at around 2am.

what was more strange was that your contact was showing up at this ungodly hour.

he almost didn't believe his eyes when he saw your contact name, still saved as 'baby' with a heart, and old contact picture of a candid smile he refused to delete, just like the rest of your pictures.

suguru picked up immediately, already assuming the worst. were you okay? safe? alive? his heart was racing and he began to panic.

"sugu?" you hiccuped.

his heart dropped to his ass.

"please, please. are you there?"

suguru pinched the bridge of his nose. "yeah. yeah, sorry. hey, bab–" he cut himself off after seeing satoru raise an eyebrow. "what's going on?"

"i don't know," you slurred, voice breaking because you felt embarrassed and really just wanted to crawl into a corner and cry. "i'm drunk. i feel sick. i was here with these new people and— and– they left without me." you hiccuped.

"and then there was this guy doing these dumb street interviews and i had to get away because he was annoying. i don't know what to do. i'm lost and alone and i feel like i'm going to pass out and i didn't know who else to call–"

"hey, calm down," suguru replied, trying not to make it seem obvious that he too, was freaking out. "where are you?"

"i was at the club. 44. and then i walked down some street. i don't know which way but i smell curry. not the good kind though. like really bad curry. i feel like i'm going to–" you gagged. "throw up."

"no, don't throw up." he covered the mic of his phone and looked over at satoru, who was frozen in one spot. "hurry up. put some fucking clothes on. we have to leave," suguru scolded.

he uncovered his mic, running off to grab his gym bag. "baby, can you do me a favour? put me on speaker and share your location with me," he asked you with a much gentler tone than he just did with satoru.

"no, i don't think i can," you answered, starting to get overwhelmed. "i just remembered your number but i have you blocked and my phone's about to die–"

"baby?" satoru questioned.

"hurry the fuck up or i'm going to leave you here."

you started crying on the other end abruptly, "why the fuck are you yelling at me?!"

"no, no," suguru took a deep breath in and out, "i'm sorry. i'm not yelling at you. i'm talking to satoru."

satoru quickly grabbed his things and they made their way to suguru's car. he pleaded you stay on the phone with him, to which you rambled on and on about how your phone was about to die and you'd try your best.

suguru pulled out of the parking lot. his phone connected to his car, and that's when satoru began connecting the dots.

"give me five. i'll be there in five. don't move, okay?"

"i can't move, sugu. my entire body feels so heavy."

"good enough. just give me five minutes."

you giggled a bit. "i'd be lucky if someone didn't kidnap me right now."

"don't say that," he scolded. "five minutes, okay?"

he had a pretty good idea where you were, considering 44 was the one club where you and suguru would actually enjoy.

oh right. the third occurance was the club. it was still a month fresh. you were with your friends when you saw him. you were pretty drunk so you didn't run away from him instantly. matter of fact, you looked happy to see him, and even danced with him for a while until the alcohol wore off.

you were at the bar, ordering some more cheap shots for yourself when suguru approached you.

"hey–"

"oh, hiii!" you sang. "you want one, sugu? here, let's have a shot together. it's on me."

he took the shot despite not wanting to drink tonight. he was dragged out of his shared home with satoru and toji because he was "sulking all day n night," according to toji, and how neither of them could stand it anymore. suguru could not say no to you. especially not after seeing you the happiest he had ever since the night you two broke up.

the dj had been playing a mix of your favourite songs.

the kind you used to scream in the car together with the windows down and the bass turned up too loud. music you'd dance to in the kitchen while waiting for your food to heat up. the tunes you'd hum under your breath absentmindedly and then deny doing when he pointed it out. suguru recognized it almost immediately. it made something twist in his chest before he could stop it.

you grabbed his wrist without warning. "come on," you insisted, already tugging him toward the floor. "this one's mine."

he should have refused.

he knew he should have.

he knew that. somewhere, deep down, he knew that.

but a month of not having you near him had done something ugly to his self-control. the second you touched him first, smiling at him like that, whatever sense he had left just folded. the word 'no' died in his throat before it could form, so he let you pull him.

the dance floor was packed. lights flashing overhead in soft, dizzying colours, bass crawling up through the soles of his shoes. people were too close, too loud, too sweaty, but then there was you in front of him laughing and swaying to the music and somehow none of it felt irritating anymore.

"how have you been?" you asked suddenly, like this was normal. like this was just another night. like you hadn't blocked him on everything and vanished out of his life so suddenly.

he stared at you for half a second.

"good."

you squinted at him immediately. "liar."

he almost smiled. "why ask if you're just gonna call me a liar?"

"i wanted to see if you'd lie."

"and?"

"and you did."

he shook his head. "i've been alright."

"you still staying up all night like a psycho?"

"i work overnight."

"that wasn’t the question," you teased.

"... yeah."

you frowned. "that sounds concerning. you should really get that checked out. i'm concerned for you."

"it's not concerning."

"suguru," you deadpanned, swaying a little closer with the music. "everything about you is a little concerning. i worry for you everyday."

that made him laugh for real. not a lot. just enough for his mouth to twitch and the sound to leave his nose.

your eyes widened immediately. "there he is. there's my sweet boy."

you looked so stupidly happy over something so small that it made him feel sick in the worst way.

he missed this.

he missed you giving him shit. he missed the way you'd look at him like pulling one reaction out of him was some great personal victory.

"fine. i'll get it checked out." he gave in. "what about you? how have you been?" he asked after a moment, quieter this time.

you shrugged like it was nothing. "same old."

same old.

like you hadn't cut everyone off. like you hadn't become a ghost. like there wasn't something tired hiding underneath your smile.

his hands stayed on your waist. your arms had moved up loosely around his shoulders by then, more for balance than anything else. at some point the space between you disappeared completely, and neither of you were the ones to fix it.

you tipped your head back to look at him properly, cheeks warm, eyes glassy. "i know you missed me, baby. i did too."

there was no accusation in it. no teasing, either.

he could have lied—probably should have. instead, he just looked at you.

and that was answer enough because your expression softened in that way he remembered too well. the way it only ever did with him. like something in you unclenched. his hand slid slightly higher against your back without him thinking about it, keeping you close. keeping you steady.

and that was when it hit him in one clean, miserable wave.

this was the happiest he had felt in a while.

not at the gym. not at work. not with satoru and toji dragging him around trying to fix him with noise, and routine, and sarcasm. it was here, with you halfway drunk and smiling against him in the middle of a packed dance floor.

the happiest he'd felt was standing in the middle of a crowded club, holding the girl he wasn't supposed to touch anymore.

that was until you suddenly snapped out of it.

you were still swaying together when something changed. your movements slowed. your hands loosened slightly where they rested on his shoulders.

suguru noticed immediately. "you good?" he asked, leaning closer so you could hear him over the music.

you didn't answer. instead, you were staring at him. really staring. like you were seeing him properly for the first time all night.

"… wait." your brows slowly pulled together. your gaze flicked down to where his hands were resting on your waist. then back up to his face. the haze in your eyes cleared just enough. "suguru?"

the way you said his name was different this time hit his gut. "what's up, baby? are you okay?"

panic flickered across your face. you stepped back abruptly, your hands dropping away from his shoulders.

"i—" your eyes darted around the crowded dance floor like you were suddenly trying to remember how you got there. "i have to go."

"hey, wait—"

but you were already shaking your head. "sorry."

the crowd swallowed you almost immediately as you pushed your way toward the edge of the dance floor, disappearing between bodies and flashing lights before he could follow.

it was the last time suguru felt your touch.

"y/n?" satoru asked in a whisper, snapping him out of the memory.

suguru nodded his head and muted for a brief moment. "she's drunk–"

"i'm really trying to wrap my head around why you guys broke up." suguru shot a look at satoru. "what? don't look at me like that. you still love her. she still loves you. i don't get it."

suguru clenched his jaw and unmuted so he could avoid having this conversation.

he knew. in his brain it made sense at the time. he just didn't want to get into it with satoru. it was something he had already gotten into with his psychotherapist and psychiatrist and it was a painful awakening.

his gps was showing his eta to be thirteen minutes away. suguru kept his word and made it in five.

he found you sitting on the curb in a mini skirt and little top, heels taken off and discarded far behind you. your phone was still on, not having the chance to die before suguru had gotten there and you can hear the audio starting to screech in close proximity.

the moment you groaned with irritation, he ended the call. you looked up at him with mascara running down your face because of your little breakdown earlier.

when you saw him, it felt like time stopped.

the world stopped spinning, everyone and everything slowed down.

he was the light of your life.

after you and suguru broke up, not only had you become extremely avoidant, but you numbed the feeling and filled the void with the help of an expensive and impractical form of "therapy": alcohol.

you wouldn't drink all the time. it started off occasional, once every two-ish weeks when you would party with your friends on the weekend. you also had knew your limits that you didn't mean to exceed. you'd tell yourself it happens.

but the context made it concerning.

you'd brush off your friends' concerns, knowing deep down, they were right.

you should have listened.

every two weeks turned into every week, then every few days, then everyday, multiple times everyday where you were always blacked out.

seeing suguru made you want to bawl.

it hit it all at once. you hated that you let it get so bad. you needed help. you wanted to get better. seeing him made you realize that.

you still loved him.

and after all, loving someone means wanting to be better for them.

as he crouched down to reach eye level and placed his retro nike windbreaker over your shoulders, you felt immense shame. you didn't have it in you to look him in the eyes. you didn't want to know if he looked disappointed or disgusted at you.

he didn't.

he was just glad you were safe—and that you trusted him enough to still be there for you.

he took his time putting your arms through the sleeves and zipped it up for you. as he was doing that, you noticed satoru outside of the passager door, using his arms as support to lean on top of suguru's car.

"are you okay?" satoru yelled out.

you couldn't answer in time. you were bridal swept off your feet by suguru swiftly. his hands had come up automatically like second nature. one arm slid behind your back, the other under your knees.

you made a weak sound of protest as your feet leave the ground. "hey," you mumbled. "i could've walked."

"i don't think so," he replied quietly.

you could feel him—solid, warm, familiar in a way that makes your chest ache. he smelt like soap. for a moment your body relaxed before your brain could catch up. he adjusted his grip when you shifted, tightening just enough to keep you steady.

he walked around the car to where satoru's standing. suguru didn't look at him, "get in the back."

"the back?"

"yeah," suguru repeated. "the back."

"this is fucked up," he disapproved.

"you'll survive."

suguru opened the passenger door and lowered you into the seat carefully. he adjusted you when you slumped sideways, made sure your legs are tucked in properly, then reached across to buckle your seatbelt himself. he gave it a small tug to make sure it was secure.

"you good?" he asked for personal reassurance.

you nodded, already melting into the seat.

he pulled his jacket closer around you, tucking it up under your chin like you might get cold, then closed the door ever so gently.

satoru just stared at what was unfolding before his eyes.

"… wooooow," he dragged, closing the door. "i get booted and she gets princess treatment." he leaned forward between the seats. "you know, technically, you could've just let me sit there."

you giggled a bit. typical satoru and his old, rage-baiting antics. god, he was so dramatic.

"you complain too much," suguru shook his head while putting his own seatbelt on.

a little time passed. you were watching the streetlights slide by under the night sky when suguru stopped at a red light.

satoru slouched in the backseat, stretching his legs. "yo, i'm exhausted. there's literally no one out right now. just run the red."

suguru looked at him through his rear view mirror with a raised brow, "no. i'm abiding traffic laws."

you pointed forward immediately, poking his cheek. "aw, laws. i missed that about you."

satoru sighed dramatically. "oh my god. you've been gone ten months and you'ree already ganging up on me again."

"that's because you're annoying, toru," you reply like it's an instinct (it was).

"annoying is crazy."

"you quite literally thrive off getting on everyone's nerves. exhibit one, me. exhibit two, sugu. exhibit three, hime. should i continue?"

suguru let out a quiet huff of laughter before he can stop himself.

you squint at him. "did you just laugh?"

"no."

"oh my god. you so did."

satoru leaned forward between the seats, grinning, "don't lie. you've been miserable for months. that's the first time i've heard you laugh in a while."

"the fuck are you talking about? i didn't laugh," suguru lied. "now sit back. you're distracting me."

he scoffed. still leaning forward, "didn't you run like three reds getting here? now you're talking about laws and safety."

"that was different,” suguru retorted.

"how?" there's a brief silence. "yeaaaahhh, that's what i thought."

you hummed, pleased, "i like when he drives safe."

satoru chuckled, "careful. if you keep that up he's never gonna break a rule again."

"can you not?" suguru rubbed his temple.

the moment the car stopped, he was out of his seat, around the hood, opening your door before you can even unbuckle yourself.

suguru doesn't even let you try to walk.

"okay, okay," you mumbled as he reached for you. "i can–"

he doesn’t argue. he just lifts you.

again.

he pulled you in until your cheek pressed against his shoulder. you barely had time to protest before your body settled, heavy and warm and embarrassingly comfortable. you sighed without meaning to.

the lobby was quiet. almost too quiet. your voice echoed when you whispered. "you're gonna drop me."

"i would never, baby," he said, immediately, adjusting his grip instinctively, thumb caressing into your side. "you know that."

you do.

but that's what made everything about you two hurt more.

the elevator ride was slow. you sway slightly with the movement, fingers curling into the fabric of his hoodie without asking permission.

"all good?" he asked again, softer this time.

you nodded, "you're really strong, sugu."

"of course i am," he replied, softly yet snarkily, still holding you like you weighed nothing.

the elevator doors opened. he continued to carry you down the hallway like it’s nothing. you hadn't walked through these halls in months despite almost always being here throughout the five years you knew suguru, and the three you dated.

suguru exhaled and gestured toward the door. "you got it?"

"yeah, just one sec,” satoru replied, already fishing his keys out as they reach the door, glancing over his shoulder when he realizes suguru never put you down. "huh?"

"what?" suguru asked shifting his grip, steady yet antsy, thinking something happened to you while he couldn't see. "is she okay?"

satoru nodded, unlocking the door. "yeah. just looks like she's damn near boutta pass out."

"don't drop me," you mumbled as suguru walked into their apartment.

satoru huffed, keeping the door open, "surprised he didn't."

the apartment looked the same. it was dim and quiet at night compared to the chaos that comes throughout the day.

you always loved it here. the kitchen was on the left as soon as you'd enter, leading into the living room, and then three rooms—one for toji, one for satoru, and one for suguru. only toji's room was shut right now. he was probably fast asleep.

suguru placed you on the couch. you immediately sank into the cushions, pillows, and blankets that were laid out. he turned on the lamp near the couch on for a little more light.

"there," he starts, "stay."

you nod at his command, "i think i'm pretty good at that."

satoru snorts from behind you, toeing off his shoes, "liar. you ran off and got lost less than an hour ago."

suguru disappeared into the kitchen while you and satoru continued to bicker. he soon came back with a glass of water, crouching slightly to hold it out to you.

you handed the glass back when you're done, leaning sideways into the couch cushions. suguru pulls a blanket from underneath you and drapes it over you without comment, tucking it around your legs. his fingers linger for a second longer than necessary.

a comfortable silence settled in.

a little too familiar, like how it used to be.

"okay!" satoru slapped the couch, disrupting the silence, "i'm tapping out now. i'm sensing something coming and i don't wanna be in between that. don't have the brain power for that right now."

you frowned, "you're abandoning me?"

"yes. i am," he repeated. "love you, but i'm tired," he stretched. "let me know if you need anything."

"i won't."

"yeaaahh, we'll see about that. you absolutely will," he ruffled your hair before walking towards his room. "you know where i'll be."

suguru sighed, "go to bed."

satoru grinned at you, softer now. "night." you waved back.

the silence stretched once again. you could not look at him. you hadn't been able to look him in the eyes the entire night. you sat on the couch, everything coming back to you again. his words, his promises, his warmth, his touch, memories with him.

it was right about now where you wished satoru didn't leave. the alcohol was leaving your system rudely.

your throat began to close up again. it felt like wires were tightening up around your neck, making it hard to breathe, hard to regulate yourself.

unbeknownst of your state again, suguru excused himself momentarily, "i'll be back. i'm just going to grab something."

he went into his bathroom, scurrying through his cabinets and drawers knowing he didn't throw out the makeup wipes you left at his place in bulk. it took him a little to find them because they were hidden away at the back, but he got them. he read the packaging carefully, making sure they were still good to use. he grabbed an unopened pack, knowing they'd still be okay.

then, he went into his closet and looked through some hoodies. his fingers immediately recognized your favourite one he owned, also hidden at the back. it was just the sage essentials hoodie, but for some reason you loved it.

he remembered how the conversation went and could not help but smile sadly at the bittersweet memory.

"you need to stop stealing my clothes, baby. i'm running out."

"i mean, i could give everything back," you responded, sitting at your desk finishing a paper whilst in his hoodie. "not this one though."

"i don't even think i got to wear it yet," he stated politely, pointing out a fact. not offended, nor argument-driven, just calm and patient, like he always has been with you.

"girlfriend tax, sugu. sorry not sorry," you smiled. "in my defence, this is the only one that actually fits me well. the rest are like dresses on me."

"okay," he kissed your forehead. "it's yours. only because you look good in it."

he found your shorts he did not get to give back to you. they were thin, black shorts but he figured you'd be a lot more comfortable in these than the skirt you were wearing.

he had just stepped back into the living room when he saw you curled in on yourself, shoulders shaking, mascara streaked even worse than before. your top was gone, discarded somewhere on the floor without really thinking about it, overheated and uncomfortable. you were sitting there in nothing but your bra under the heap of blankets.

he froze for half a second, then hurried to you. he placed the wipes and clothes on the table across from you without looking.

"hey, hey, hey. what's wrong?" he asked quietly. "why are you crying?"

you tried to wipe your face quickly when you saw him standing there.

it didn't help.

you looked like a mess. you were a mess.

your eyes were red, lashes clumped, eyeliner smeared halfway down your cheeks, lips trembling like you were barely holding it together.

he knelt in front of you on the ground. he placed his hands on your covered legs and drew little circles into the blanket with his thumb. he was close enough for you you could feel his warmth again and it made something in your chest cave in.

"slow down," his voice remained quiet. "look at me. i only left for a minute. what's going on?"

you shook your head. "i can't," you whispered, voice cracking. "i'm sorry, i didn't mean to start again, i just— it won't stop. i don't know why it won't stop."

the rest dissolved into sobs.

he sat beside you, approaching you slowly. his arm slid around your shoulders slowly, cautiously, like he was testing whether you'd let him. his hand rested flat behind your head first, thumb brushing your hair lightly. when you didn't pull away, when you didn't tense up or tell him to stop, he tightened his hold just a little and guided you closer.

your body went with him without resistance.

your forehead pressed into his chest, right over his heart, and you hated how natural it felt. how your muscles relaxed on instinct, how your breathing shifted automatically to match his.

it was like your body remembered him better than your mind did.

his other arm came up around your back, folding you in completely now, holding you close in a way that felt both protective and familiar. his hand settled between your shoulder blades, firm and steady, fingers spreading slightly like he was grounding himself as much as he was grounding you.

you could feel him everywhere.

the warmth of his body through his shirt. the slow rise and fall of his chest under your cheek. the quiet, steady rhythm of his heartbeat. the faint scent of his shampoo and cologne that clung to him, something you'd always associated with comfort.

you clutched at his shirt without thinking, fingers curling into the fabric like you were afraid he might let go if you didn't hold on. your grip was uneven and weak at first, hesitant, like you weren’t sure you were allowed to touch him like this anymore.

he noticed this, like how he noticed everything. his hand moved. it slid up your back slightly, pressing you closer, a silent reassurance.

it was okay.

you could.

your face buried deeper into his chest, and that was when the sob you'd been holding back finally broke free. it wasn't loud. it wasn't dramatic. it was quiet and ugly and shaky.

"shhh, calm down," he murmured softly, lips brushing against your hair as he spoke. "i got you."

one of his hands began moving in slow, steady strokes up and down your back, from your shoulders to the middle of your spine and back again. the motion was repetitive, grounding, something he'd done for you countless times before when you were overwhelmed or anxious or couldn't sleep.

and that was when it really hit him.

you never cried like this.

in all the years he'd known you, he could count the times he'd seen you properly break down on both hands, nothing more.

the night you'd spotted that trembling stray on the sidewalk and knelt down in the rain because you couldn't stand the thought of it being alone. he caught you tearing up a bit, but wiping your tears away before he'd noticed. he promised you he'd take it home, and he had.

the week your grandparents passed within days of each other, when you'd sat on his bed in silence for hours before finally curling into him and letting yourself cry, apologizing between breaths like you were doing something wrong.

the nights you'd gotten overwhelmed about school, work, and your future, staring at the ceiling and insisting you were fine until the pressure built up too much and cracked through.

that was it.

that was all.

every other time, you swallowed it. joked it off. distracted yourself. took care of everyone else first. you were strong to a fault.

you felt it in the way your body responded immediately, tension slowly bleeding out of you with every pass of his hand. your sobs softened into broken breaths, then into quiet sniffles pressed against his chest.

he didn't check his phone, didn't shift away, didn't rush you. he stayed like that the entire time.

"breathe," he whispered into your hair. "just breathe with me, okay? slow down."

he inhaled slowly, exaggerated it a little, held it for a second, then let it out. you tried to follow, even though it felt impossible at first. your breaths were uneven and shaky, but eventually, slowly, they started to match his. after a while, your sobs softened into quiet sniffles and broken little breaths.

your throat hurt. your head felt heavy. you felt empty and too full at the same time.

he never let go.

when you finally lifted your head, your eyes landed on his chest and you frowned faintly. "i got makeup on your shirt." there was a dark smudge of mascara, liner, and foundation smeared across his t-shirt from where you'd been crying into it.

he glanced down, clicked his tongue softly. "doesn't matter." he brushed his thumb gently under your eye, wiping away another tear. "what's going on with you, baby?" his voice laced with pure concern and ache, "please talk to me."

"nothing," you lied. "i've just been drinking. i'm tired. it happens. i'm sorry."

he tilted his head and raised a brow. "try again."

he saw right through you.

"i don't know," you finally admitted. "i thought i did. i always think i do. but i don't."

he waited.

"i didn't mean for tonight to happen like this," you went on. "i didn't mean to get that drunk. i didn't mean to lose my friends. i didn't mean to call you. it just keeps happening."

your voice wavered.

"i'm tired of pretending i'm okay," you whispered. "i'm not. i've been pretending for so long i don't even know what 'okay' is supposed to feel like anymore."

suguru knew that feeling all too well.

if anyone knew, it was him.

after all, that is why he had decided to leave.

he remembered the night clearly.

the way the words had tasted wrong the moment they left his mouth. even though it made him sick to his stomach, he knew he had to be mean, or else you wouldn't let go.

the way you had looked at him across the room like the air had been knocked out of you. he had told himself he was doing the right thing—that he was protecting you from the worst parts of him.

back then, his head had this constant, heavy fog. it was suffocating. every thought circling the same conclusion that he was dragging you down with him. every bad day he had, he started noticing the way you watched him more carefully. the way you tried to lighten the room when he went quiet, the way you carried both of your moods on your shoulders without ever complaining.

it had terrified him.

not because you were doing anything wrong, but rather because you were doing everything right.

you loved him enough to stay, and he had convinced himself that was exactly the problem.

so he left first.

he had told himself you would heal faster that way—if he stepped out of your life completely, you would eventually move on and find someone easier to love. someone who didn't come with the weight he carried around inside his chest every day.

he thought he had been doing you a favour.

sitting here now, holding you while you cried into his shirt, the idea felt almost cruel.

his hand slowed slightly on your back. "have you been drinking like this a lot?" he asked quietly.

you didn't answer right away. your fingers tightened slightly in his shirt. "… yeah." the word came out small.

"how long?"

you sniffed, wiping under your nose with the back of your hand before answering. "i don't know," you admitted. "a while."

he didn't need more explanation than that. the exhaustion in your voice said enough.

"every day?" he asked carefully.

you hesitated again. "most days."

suguru exhaled slowly in worry. "okay," he murmured. "that's okay. we'll figure that out."

you frowned faintly against his chest. "figure what out?"

"how to help you."

you pulled back just enough to look at him properly for the first time since the crying had started. your lashes were still wet, eyes swollen and red, but there was something searching in your expression now.

"why would you do that?" you asked quietly.

the question caught him off guard. his brows pulled together slightly. "what do you mean?"

"why would you help me?" you repeated. "you left me."

"because it's you," he said.

he stared at you for a moment like the answer was obvious.

because it was.

"i'm going to help you no matter what. any time, irregardless of what we are. you mean too much to me for me to not help you when you reach out."

"that's not fair," you whispered. "you can just say things like that."

suguru stilled, "i'm sorr–"

"do you know how hard it's been to stay away from you? i thought if i kept seeing you i'd just… keep coming back," you admitted. "and that felt worse."

his mind flashed briefly to the three times he had seen you over the past months. the dispensary. the funeral. the club.

every single time you had turned and walked away from him like he was something dangerous. he had thought you were finally moving on. he had thought you hated him.

"i missed you too much."

suguru felt something in his chest shift uncomfortably. it was the realization settling slowly into place.

you sniffed again, voice barely above a whisper now.

"i still love you. and i hate that i do."

"i know," he said softly.

your brows furrowed. "do you?"

"yeah," his voice was quiet, but steady.

you stared at him, searching his face like you were trying to figure out if he meant it.

"then why did you leave?" you asked. there wasn't anger laced in your voice, just exhaustion.

"because i thought loving me was hurting you." the words came out louder now. "i thought if i stayed you'd eventually start resenting me for it."

you shook your head faintly. "that wasn't your decision to make."

"i know. i know that now."

his hand slid gently to the side of your neck, thumb resting just under your ear where he could feel the faint rhythm of your pulse. he hesitated for only a moment before continuing.

"… i love you. i never stopped. not once."

your eyes glistened again, but this time you weren't crying. if anything, you looked stunned. like the idea that he might still love you had never crossed your mind.

your hand lifted slowly, brushing along the side of his jaw. you let out a shaky breath and leaned forward. "you're an idiot."

"yeah," he admitted easily. "i know that too."

he moved first, but it was slow. so slow you had time to pull away, to push him, to run like you had been for months. you didn't. you met him him halfway.

the first touch of your lips was impossibly soft. it was a gentle, questioning press that was more breath than kiss. it was hesitant, testing the waters after a ten month drought.

his lips were warm, softer than you remembered. they parted immediately under yours, a quiet, welcoming surrender. your hand slid from his jaw to the back of his neck, your fingers tangling in the soft hair at his nape, holding on for dear life.

his hands, which had been resting on your legs, flew to your waist, gripping you tight enough to bruise, pulling you flush against him until there was no space left. he gripped onto you like he was afraid you might disappear. one slid up your back, tracing the line of your spine through the blanket before coming to rest between your shoulder blades, pressing you closer.

he was holding you close, but it wasn't demanding. it was grounding, like he was making sure you were real, that you were really here.

the kiss deepened, but it never grew frantic. it remained soft, almost reverent. his tongue traced your bottom lip, a slow, deliberate sweep that made you shiver.

you opened for him without a second thought, a soft sigh escaping your throat as his tongue met yours. it wasn't a hungry exploration, but a familiar, comforting dance.

it was like coming home.

"i missed this," he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with emotion. "i missed you."

you could taste the faint mint of his toothpaste, coconut chapstick, the unique flavour that was just him, and it was intoxicating.

he shifted, turning you both slightly so you were leaning back against the couch cushions, his body hovering over yours without crushing you. the angle changed, and the kiss became deeper, more intimate. his hand moved from your back to cup the side of your neck, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin just below your ear. you could feel the frantic, unsteady beat of his heart against your ribs, a rhythm that matched your own.

this was the suguru you knew.

the suguru who kissed you like you were the most precious thing in the world, who could pour all the words he couldn't say into a single touch. you were melting into it, your body relaxing under his, your hands roaming his shoulders, his back, reacquainting yourself with the solid, familiar planes of his body. a part of you, the part that had been lonely and hurting for ten months, wanted more. it wanted to feel his skin against yours, to lose yourself in him until the pain went away.

"i love you," the kiss broke apart slowly, your foreheads resting together. his eyes were closed, his breathing unsteady. "fuck, i love you so much."

you didn't trust yourself to speak, so you just nodded, pulling him back in. this time it was less hesitant, more sure. it wasn't hungry or desperate, but thorough. it was like he was trying to memorize you all over again, mapping every curve and dip of your mouth. his tongue slid against yours, a slow, deliberate dance that sent a shiver down your spine.

"sugu," you breathed out, your head falling back to give him better access, your eyes fluttering shut.

"yes, baby?" his voice was muffled against your skin, the words a broken, worshipful thing. it was the name he was finally allowed to call you after ten months, and it shattered what was left of your composure.

"please, touch me."

he pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and serious. just as suddenly as it started, he stopped.

he pulled back, his breathing heavy and ragged, his hands still gripping you like he was afraid you'd vanish. his lips were swollen and red, his eyes dark and clouded with a mixture of lust and something else. something pained.

he didn't see the mess—he just saw you. he saw the girl he'd loved for years, the girl he'd broken, the girl he was desperate to put back together.

"i'm sorry," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "we can't."

your heart plummeted. shame, hot and sharp, flooded your veins.

of course.

this was a mistake.

you were a mess. a drunk, pathetic mess.

and he'd finally come to his senses. you tried to pull away, to retreat back into yourself, but his grip on you tightened, holding you in place.

"hey, look at me," he said, his voice gentle now. you couldn't. you kept your eyes down, staring at the dark smear of mascara on his t-shirt. "please, look at me."

you finally met his gaze, and what you saw there wasn't rejection. it was concern. it was that same soft, achingly familiar look he'd always given you when you were hurting.

"not like this," he said softly, his thumb stroking your cheek. "not when you're drunk. not when you're hurting. you deserve more than that, baby."

you just stared at him, your mind too fuzzy to process his words. he sighed, a quiet, resigned sound, and carefully untangled himself from you.

he knelt in front of you again, his expression unreadable. "come here," he murmured, gently taking your chin in his hand.

he pulled one of the wipes from the pack, the scent of cucumber and green tea filling the air. he was so careful as he started to clean your face, his touch impossibly light. he wiped away the tracks of your tears, the smudged mascara, the foundation that was caked around your eyes. he didn't say a word, just worked gently, his brow furrowed in concentration.

it was the most intimate thing he'd done all night.

more intimate than the kiss, more intimate than the desperate way he'd held you. this was suguru taking care of you, the way he always had. this was him seeing you at your absolute worst and choosing to tend to you instead of taking advantage.

once your face was clean, he set the wipes aside and picked up the hoodie. it was your favourite one, the soft sage green one that was perfectly worn in. "arms up," he instructed softly.

you obeyed, lifting your arms over your head. he pulled the hoodie over you, his knuckles brushing against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. it swallowed you whole, the fabric soft and warm, and it smelled overwhelmingly of him. of laundry detergent and his cologne and something that was just uniquely suguru.

he then picked up the shorts. "can you stand up for me?" you shook your head, your body feeling too heavy. he just nodded, like he expected that. "okay, just lift your hips."

he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your skirt, his gaze fixed on your face, not your body, as he slid it down your legs and tossed it aside. he helped you into the shorts, his hands lingering on your hips for just a second longer than necessary before he pulled away.

he stood up, and for a terrifying moment, you thought he was going to leave you there, cold and alone on the couch.

he stood up and held out his hand. "come on."

"where?" you whispered, your eyes wide.

"just to sleep," he promised, his voice soft. "i'll take the couch. you need to sleep in a real bed."

you shook your head. the thought of being in his bed without him somehow worse than being on the couch alone. "can you stay here with me? please? just for tonight," your voice had that small, vulnerable edge again. "i don't want to be alone."

he looked at you for a long moment, his gaze searching yours. he looked at the tear tracks on your clean cheeks, the way you were clutching his hoodie, the raw fear in your eyes.

you were his weakness. his kryptonite, even. you always made him give in.

"of course. i'm not going anywhere," he murmured.

you shifted further onto the couch, making room for him. he adjusted automatically, lying down on the outer edge, his back near the open room, his body angled slightly around yours.

it was a subconscious, protective gesture, one he'd made a thousand times before. putting himself between you and the rest of the world.

you tucked yourself in against him, instinctively, your body remembering the shape of his even when your mind was a mess. your forehead pressed against the solid warmth of his chest, right over his heart, your hand resting lightly against his stomach.

you could feel the steady, rhythmic beat of his heart under your ear, a slow, comforting thrum that was already starting to lull you into a state of calm.

his arm wrapped around you without discussion, settling securely across your back. his other hand came up to rest on your head, his fingers stroking through your hair in a slow, repetitive motion.

your breathing evened out quicker this time. the exhaustion, both emotional and physical, caught up to you fast. the weight of the last ten months, the alcohol, the crying, the emotional whiplash of seeing him again—it all crashed down on you at once.

your body went heavy, your muscles relaxing one by one. within minutes, your grip on his hoodie slackened, your hand going limp against his stomach.

he stayed awake a little longer.

listening to the sound of your breathing, deep and even now. making sure you were really okay, that this wasn't another dream he'd wake up from alone. he could feel the gentle puffs of your breath against his neck, the soft weight of your head on his chest.

it was familiar and agonizing all at once. he pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering in your hair. he'd forgotten what this felt like. he'd forgotten how right it felt to hold you like this.

eventually, his eyes closed too.

——

morning came in slowly.

satoru shuffled into the kitchen first, hair a mess, still half asleep. he stopped mid-step when he saw the couch. "... oh?"

toji followed. "what now."

they both looked down to see you and suguru tangled together on the couch, completely out, faces relaxed, breathing slow and synced.

"... oh." toji stared. "man, it's been months."

satoru grinned. "nah. i knew it."

toji groaned, opening his wallet. "you said by christmas."

"i said before the year ended. it's only the first week of december. technically, i'm still right. pay up."

"okay, but this isn't 'back together' either. they're just sleeping."

"look at them," satoru scoffed quietly. "that's not casual. you're telling me you and your missus don't sleep together like that?"

toji handed over the fifty with a sigh. "fuck you."

suguru woke up the way he always did. too early, half-aware, and still tired. and the first thing he saw was two faces hovering directly above him.

he jolted. "holy fuck—"

the sudden movement sent a shock of adrenaline through his system. before his brain had even caught up with the sight of satoru and toji's smirking faces, his body reacted on pure instinct.

his arm, which had been resting loosely across your back, snapped around you. he pulled you flush against him, your body shifting easily in his arms. he rolled slightly, curling his body over yours in a move that was both protective and possessive, shielding you from the unexpected intrusion.

your face, which had been resting on his chest, was now buried in the crook of his neck, your breath warm against his skin. he held you there, a solid, unmoving wall between you and his idiot friends, his heart slamming against his ribs as he stared up at them.

"suguru's awake," satoru whispered loudly.

"no shit," toji replied, his eyes fixed on the way suguru was practically covering your body with his own. "yeah, you win."

"see, that wasn't casual."

"not at all."

"what the fuck are you guys doing?" suguru scolded quietly, making sure you wouldn't wake up to their stupidity.

toji moved his head slowly, "could ask you the same thing. you back together?"

suguru rolled his eyes, "no."

"give me my fifty back," toji tried snatching the fifty back from satoru but he wouldn't budge. he ignored him, for now, and immediately focused on suguru again. "you fucking?"

"what time is it, holy," suguru sighed, tiredly. he glanced at his phone to see it was still just 7:25am. "it's too early for you to be running your mouth like that. watch it."

"okay, then elaborate," toji snarked. "what am i looking at?"

suguru's gaze softened for a fraction of a second as he looked down at you.

you were still fast asleep, completely oblivious.

your cheek was pressed against his shoulder, one hand fisted in the fabric of his t-shirt right over his heart. your legs were tangled with his under the blanket, your knee bent and resting against his thigh. even in sleep, you were seeking his warmth, his comfort.

he tightened his arm around you again, his hand splaying across your back, holding you even closer. it was an unconscious gesture, one that spoke volumes. he looked back up at toji, his expression hardening again.

"i don't know yet," he admitted, agitated. "now please, both of you, fuck off."

"aight, whatever," toji shrugged his shoulders. "i've got work in another hour and a half. hold whatever drama you guys are going to get into until then."

"suguru," satoru called out from the kitchen with his overly sweet morning coffee. "i've got class at 10:30. i'm practically begging you to wait until then."

"if your loud mouths shut up, you wouldn't have to worry about it," suguru scoffed. "if you guys wake her up, you'll have to deal with it. hide in your rooms until then or something."

you suddenly shifted. your body heavy and warm, a feeling of unfamiliar comfort surrounding you.

that was wrong.

your bed wasn't this warm. your pillow didn't smell like him.

the memories hit you then, not as a coherent narrative, but as a series of disjointed, sensory flashes. the thumping bass of the club, the burn of cheap vodka, the cold night air on your face. his car.

his hands on you. his mouth on yours, soft and questioning at first, then deeper, more certain. the desperate, aching want that had flooded your system, the way you'd clung to him, silently begging for more. the feeling of his body over yours, the solid weight of him, the worshipful way he'd touched you.

you pulled back quickly, sitting upright so fast the blanket pooled in your lap and the world tilted violently. your heart was suddenly racing, beating against your ribs.

the room felt wrong. too bright. too close. the air was thick with the scent of him—laundry detergent, his cologne, and something uniquely, painfully suguru.

your eyes landed on him.

he was sitting up beside you, watching you with a guarded expression. he was in a simple t-shirt with your makeup on it and sweats, his hair still slightly messy from sleep.

your gaze dropped on the hoodie you were wearing. your favourite one. the one you dropped off when he wasn't home months ago. then onto your discarded skirt and top, scattered in a neat pile near the coffee table.

your stomach dropped.

"no," you muttered under your breath, the word a choked, horrified whisper.

he stood up slowly, his movements careful, deliberate, like he was approaching a spooked animal. "hey. it's okay."

"don't," you said quickly, scrambling to your feet.

satoru and toji looked at each other frightened. they truly did not want to get caught up in this. they both snuck into the nearest room, satoru's, without being seen. however, they were still very much going to listen.

your head swam, a wave of dizziness washing over you, but you ignored it, stumbling back a step. "i don't remember getting here. i don't remember falling asleep."

your brain was racing ahead of you, filling in the blanks with the worst-case scenarios.

what had you done?

what had you said?

you remembered wanting him, remembered kissing him with a desperation that bordered on pathetic, but after that?

nothing. it was a blur.

"did i— did we?" you stopped yourself, the question catching in your throat. you couldn't ask it. you couldn't bear to hear the answer.

"no." he said gently, his voice soft but steady. "you called me. i picked you up—"

"i know that," you snapped, more panicked than angry. "i remember the club. after that it's just… bits and pieces. that's not good."

you bent down, your fingers clumsy and shaking as you grabbed your skirt from the floor. shame was flooding in fast, hot and suffocating. "i should go."

he didn't move, just watched you with an unnerving calm. "you just woke up."

"exactly," you replied, your voice tight, strained. "i shouldn't have stayed."

you turned and moved toward the door, your clothes clutched in your hand like a shield. you had to get out. you had to breathe.

his hand caught your wrist. "no."

"let go."

"we need to talk."

you finally turned to face him, your eyes wide and pleading. "i don't know what i did. i don't know what i said. let me leave, suguru. please."

"you told me you still love me last night."

the words landed between you like something physical. you stopped fighting him immediately.

your body went completely still, energy draining out of you all at once. you just stood there, your wrist still held in his gentle grip, your mind utterly blank.

"… what?"

he didn't soften it. didn't wrap it in anything. he just looked at you, his gaze steady and unwavering.

"you told me you still love me. we're going to talk about it."

the panic drained from your face in slow degrees, replaced with something quieter. heavier. more devastating. the shame was still there, but now it was mixed with a raw, terrifying vulnerability.

you had said that. you had laid your heart bare, and you couldn't even remember doing it.

your grip on your clothes loosened, your fingers going numb. the fabric slipped slightly, but you didn't notice.

the air in the room felt thick, heavy with the weight of your confession. your breathing steadied, but your chest felt hollow, achingly empty. you could feel the start of a headache brewing behind your eyes.

he finally let go of your wrist, but he didn't step away. he gestured towards the couch. "sit down. please."

you didn't have the energy to argue. you sank onto the couch, your clothes falling into a forgotten heap beside you. you wrapped your arms around yourself, a flimsy barrier against the cold reality of the morning.

he knelt down in front of you. he left a careful foot of space between you, a space that felt both a courtesy and a chasm.

he put the blanket back onto your bare legs. he leaned forward, really looking into your eyes.

"you called me around two," he started, his voice low. "you were at that club downtown. i told you to stay put, that i was coming to get you."

you just stared at your hands, picking at a loose thread on the couch cushion. you remembered that part. the desperate, lonely urge to call the one person you knew shouldn't answer.

"you were upset and drunk. i brought you back here. you didn't want to be alone."

he paused, running a hand through his hair. you could feel his gaze on you, but you couldn't bring yourself to meet it.

"we talked," he said. "we talked about the last ten months. about how miserable we've both been. and then… you told me you still love me."

your breath hitched. it was one thing to hear the words, another to hear the context. to know it wasn't just a drunken slur, but a confession born from months of pain.

"i told you i never stopped loving you either," he admitted.

the words hit you like a physical blow. you finally looked up at him, your eyes wide. he looked just as wrecked as you felt.

"we kissed. it wasn't just a drunken mistake. not for me, at least. hopefully not for you either."

"i remember that," you shook your head, confusion and warring emotions swirling inside you. "but i don't remember saying it.”

"i can tell," he smiled gently yet painfully. "but you did. and i need to know. was it just the alcohol talking or did you mean it?"

the question hung in the air, heavy and loaded. it was the moment of truth. the moment you had to decide whether to run back to the safety of your lonely apartment or to take a terrifying leap of faith.

you looked at him, really looked at him. at the dark circles under his eyes, at the way his shoulders were slumped with a weight you knew all too well. at the hope and fear warring in his gaze.

you thought about the last ten months. the sleepless nights, the forced smiles, the constant, dull ache of missing him. you thought about the flashes of memory from last night—the comfort of his arms, the rightness of his kiss.

you took a shaky breath, the words catching in your throat.

"i meant it," you whispered, the admission feeling both terrifying and like a release.

for a long moment, he didn't move, nor say anything. you were sure you'd made a mistake, that you'd just handed him a loaded gun and he was deciding whether to pull the trigger. the silence stretched, thick and suffocating.

then, you felt the couch shift as he moved. he closed the careful foot of space he'd left between you. his arm slid around your shoulders, tentative at first, and then he was pulling you into him.

you went stiff for a second, your body's instinct to protect itself warring with your desperate need for his comfort.

his other arm came around you, his hand sreading across your back, and he just held you. one of his hands came up to cup the back of your head, his fingers tangling gently in your hair, pressing your face into the crook of his neck.

that was your undoing.

the careful composure you'd been clinging to shattered. you didn't realize when, but you began to tear up again. it wasn't sad, but relieving—a release of months of pain you hadn't allowed yourself to feel. you clung to him, your fists gripping the soft fabric of his t-shirt, your body trembling against his.

he just held you tighter. he didn't shush you or tell you it was okay. he just let you have a moment, his own breathing ragged in your ear, his hand stroking your back in a slow, soothing rhythm.

when your tears finally subsided, leaving you feeling weak and hollowed out, you didn't pull away. you just stayed there, tucked against him, listening to the steady, reassuring beat of his heart. it was the most peaceful you'd felt in half a year.

"i'm sorry," you mumbled into his neck, your voice hoarse.

"you have nothing to be sorry for." he said, his voice a low rumble against your ear. "i'm sorry."

"it's okay, suguru."

you finally pulled back just enough to look at him, your face blotchy and your eyes swollen. he gently cupped your jaw, his thumb stroking your cheek.

"so… what now?" you whispered, the question feeling impossibly big.

he took a slow breath, his gaze serious. "first, you're going to let me make you some coffee and something to eat."

you wanted to argue, but the thought of food and coffee was suddenly overwhelmingly appealing. you just nodded, unable to find the words.

he stood up, pulling you with him. he kept a hand on your waist, steadying you as you swayed slightly. "go brush and wash your face. you know where my bathroom is," he gestured towards his bedroom. "i'll be in the kitchen."

you gave him a small, hesitant nod before disappearing into his room. the bathroom was just as you remembered it, tidy and clean. you grabbed a spare brush from his drawer and used his toothpaste.

you splashed cold water on your face, trying to wash away the evidence of your breakdown. you looked at your reflection in the mirror—at your puffy eyes and pale skin—and barely recognized the person staring back at you.

when you emerged a few minutes later. the smell of coffee filled the small apartment. you found him in the kitchen, standing by the counter, two mugs in hand. he was wearing that same soft, guarded expression, but there was something new there too. a flicker of hope.

"we're not just jumping right back into things," he said, his voice quiet, like he was reading your mind. "i know we can't. there's too much happened between us."

you looked up at him, relieved.

"we talk. for real this time. about everything. about why i left, about what you felt."

"okay," you agreed, your voice barely a whisper. "tonight?"

"it's up to you. whenever you want to, i'm here for you. i'm ready. you stay here tonight," he added, his tone leaving no room for argument. "you can stay in my room, and i'll stay out here."

"seriously?" you sulked. "i've spent months away from you and we can't sleep together?"

a hint of a smile played on his lips.

"it's not funny."

"i know, baby. we'll take it slow," he continued, his gaze fixed on yours. "one day at a time. we start over. we go on dates. i pick you up, i bring you flowers— everything we used to do."

"flowers, huh?" a small, watery smile touched your lips.

"roses, lilies, and tulips. he leaned forward and booped your nose. you scrunched it immediately after. "yeah, i still remember,"

"but for tonight, we can watch a movie, order some food, and talk about whatever you want to talk about."

you looked at him, at the hopeful, earnest look in his eyes, and felt something inside you finally start to heal. you nodded. "i'd like that."

his hand coverered yours. "we're going to fix this," he said, his voice full of quiet conviction. "i promise."

you squeezed his hand, a silent agreement. "i believe you."

"fucking finally, holy fuck."

you turned around to see none other than toji walking out of satoru's room. no one else has a more suggestive way of speaking. satoru followed him out, waving slightly at the both of you. and no one's more nosey than the two.

"i'm going to be late to work now because of you," he directed towards more suguru than you. he then ruffled the hair on your head. "missed you, kid. i'll see you later."

"still only a year younger than you," you remarked.

it was his nickname for you ever since you two met, which was eight years ago. he waved without looking and shut the door behind him. now your attention diverted to satoru.

"how are you?" you asked, discreetly wiping your eyes. "still annoying as ever, i assume."

"ha, ha, ha," he raised his brows and smirked. "i can hold what just happened, and last night over you, by the way."

suguru scoffed, "no you won't." he took a sip out his mug and gave him a stare.

"you're no fun," satoru sighed. "i'm doing wonderful. ask why."

"… why?"

"i'm fifty dollars richer because of you guys."

i did not know how to end this one ugh

@xoshiitaa