tags + warnings: light angst, insomnia, some fluff
suguru's bare feet pad against the wooden floors. a faint breeze nips itself on his bare skin as he turns the corner, eyes drifting between the crack of satoru's door.
for a moment, he just stands there and observes.
satoru is doing exactly what suguru knew he would be doing. he is pacing the length of his dorm, head tilted down as if the floor would reveal some secret to ease his brain, his mind, his sleep. his hands turn in on themselves in a way that fidgets with nothing, fists clenching and unclenching again as if infinity does not exist within each fingertip. the moonlight sneaks its way in, and angles itself so it catches on strands of satoru's hair, reflecting delicately silver.
from where suguru is standing, he thinks satoru could be an angel. what with the way the light forms a halo on his head.
a divine being both beautiful and tortured.
suguru steps inside before his view turns to intrusion.
he is met with bright blue eyes he doesn't think he could forget if he tried. they are imprinted into his memory the way he knows he must consume curses. a necessity.
"what are you doing here?" satoru asks him.
it is unsure. innocent.
"you haven't been sleeping."
satoru opens his mouth to say something. maybe to defend himself. he stops. then starts again, "how do you know?"
the answer is on the tip of suguru's tongue.
i notice how your punches swing a little slower. i see the bags under your eyes. i hear your pacing from my room. i love you.
"i just do."
suguru takes a step forwards, frowning, "why aren't you sleeping?"
the question hangs in the air.
it does not push the way a stake does into the ground. no, suguru has never been intrusive. instead, the words permeate like the smell of something baking in the kitchen. it is warm and reminds you of home.
satoru looks like he is deciding between being safe and honest. he sighs.
"i'm getting stronger," he says. suguru knows this. in fact, satoru is already the strongest and yet he can still beat himself at this invisible game. "like, i know exactly how far away the moth outside my window is and how i could teleport from here to a million places. it's like the entire world is at my fingertips- it's- it's buzzing and..."
"i don't want it," satoru confesses.
because with all the gusto that comes with being the strongest, there is never escape from the torment of it.
"any of it?" suguru asks.
there is a pause. perhaps satoru's mind slowing down for the first time that night as he attempted to tire himself out enough to fall asleep.
"it shows me when you bury your head under your pillow when i pace," he says. "that's how i know when to stop."
suguru's breath doesn't hitch, but it does falter. he knows what satoru is really saying. i know i have to be the strongest but at least it lets me take care of you. suguru doesn't think he's the one that needed to be taken care of though. he was barely deserving of it.
he takes another step towards satoru so he stands right before him. from here, suguru can see the crease of brows satoru is attempting to fight off. the distress that lines the crevices of his perfect face. the weight that he can't shake.
suguru wants to understand, but he knows he can't. some things are unfairly made to be faced alone.
instead, he gets so close to satoru that their chests brush against each other. he wraps his arms loosely around satoru's waist and walks him backwards towards the bed.
they both fall (and for a brief second they are free).
"it won't work suguru-"
"shhhh. just c'mere," suguru whispers, adjusting himself to sit. allowing satoru to rest his head against his chest.
he runs his fingers through white locks, not believing how something so soft can belong to someone so hardened. suguru presses his lips to satoru's temple. sacred.
"you don't have to sleep," suguru tells him. "just rest with me."
and maybe it is the deep gravel of suguru's voice mixed with the rumble of his lungs. maybe it is the rise and fall of a heartbeat so steady satoru thinks he could march to its beat the rest of his life. maybe it is the fingers in his hair, ones stained by the curses they encounter being purified by an act of such care.
but for the first time in a long time, satoru finds his breathing evened and his eyelids heavy, with no influx of knowledge except for the presence of the boy embracing him.
author's note: hope you enjoyed my satosugu word vomit. i just really love them ok? also working on an actual longer fic with this concept!!
