Catch My Heart
Tags: Highschool!Gojo x Highschool!Reader, fluff
Summary: As you approach the end of high school, you have one mission in mind - don't throttle Satoru Gojo by the throat from sheer frustration. You've always had your fair share of troubles as the student council president, but none of them could ever compare to the resident menace of your school. Petty, rude, egoistic (and pretty in ways that drove you mad because why was this man’s lashes better than yours???) - Satoru was everything you loathed in a guy. But what will happen when you’re forced to work with him on the project that makes up a huge portion of your grade - where egos clash and unfamiliar jealousy flares up?
wc: 6.2k
You could proudly say, with the utmost certainty, that the precise moment your life had gone to shit, an absolute train wreck in slow motion, was when you met Satoru Gojo.
Satoru Gojo. If one was asked to describe him, words would not suffice. Not because of any particularly charitable nature his brittle, shrivelled up heart possessed - he might as well wear a collar of being a public nuisance to any individual who had the misfortune of crossing paths with him.
And oh did he wear that collar with pride.
Sweat prickled at the collar of your school blazer as the morning assembly droned on - a neverending monologue of teachers handing out awards for the extracurricular achievements of students. Tapping your feet impatiently backstage, you clutched the assembly’s script. Your finger traced the margin filled with your hastily scrawled corrections - glasses sliding down the slope of your nose. You were supposed to be on stage next to announce the charity fundraiser carnival and the winners of the interschool five hundred metre sprint.
Thwack!
Greedy, grubby fingers looped around your hair tie and tugged it back, letting it meet the back of your head with a resounding sound.
“Oops.” Satoru grinned unrepentantly, azure eyes twinkling in the faded backstage lights as he tugged you to come stand beside him. “Sorry prez, my hand slipped.”
“Yeah and I’m Queen Elizabeth’s grandmother.” Your eye twitched. That voice. That smug cadence to the lilt of his words - nothing else could quite drive you to the brink of slamming your head against the nearest wall like it.
“I can see it, actually.” He nodded and without warning, bought his face inches from yours. Satoru made a show of inspecting your skin, eyes narrowed. “Yeah, look at all those wrinkles! Like a little raisin! Oh, are those a couple grey hairs there?”
“No, shut up-” You hissed, jabbing an elbow against his ribs. “I need to be on stage soon!”
“Puh-lease.” He drawled, elongating each syllabus. “You’re not even doing much. You just need to stand there prettily and announce my name as the sprint’s winner.”
Yeah.
Much to your absolute fury, this guy kept winning. Every. Single. Week.
Last week, it had been a swimming competition he’d nabbed first place at. The week before, a long jump event. (Did the gods get some kind of sick pleasure watching you hand him medals each time!?)
“I won that creative writing tournament though. Your essay was so bad, it made me want to cry of shame.” Leaning against a wall, you raised an unimpressed brow.
Satoru smirked, leaning forward till you could see the flecks of silver in his pupils. Tutting your name, he continued “You’re slipping though. I scored more than you in yesterday’s Physics test.”
“By one point.”
“Still counts.”
“Does not.”
“So does.”
“It doesn’t because it’s a very miniscule difference and my GPA is still higher than yours!” You hated how your voice rose defensively, the way your fists clenched and nose scrunched up whenever Satoru came within your vicinity. He didn’t just get under your skin, he crawled into it and kept pulling at each nerve until he knew you’d explode.
“La da da da, you’re just saying nonsense!” Clamping his hands over his ears, Satoru spun away from you - tufts of white hair peeking between fingers.
“Why you-”
Your attention snapped away from him when the teacher finished talking and hobbled away. Taking your cue, you stepped onto the podium and adjusted the mic to your height.
The address about the carnival went smoothly, just regular student council business. Students clapped, some chattered excitedly amongst each other about the stalls.
At long last, you arrived at what you’d been dreading the most. Maintaining your smile, you glanced up. “During the weekend, our school’s field saw many athletes from all over the district. We witnessed outstanding performance from all those who participated and I’m proud to say it was our school that nabbed the interschool trophy! I’d like to award Sato-”
You’d barely gotten through half of his name when Satoru barrelled past you, his smile blinding. Glancing back, he shot you a wink, mouthing the words “Too slow, prez.”
He stood smugly as you hung the gold medal over his neck, making a show of flexing his shoulders. Rocking slightly on the soles of his shoes, Satoru soaked up the cheers of the students while you fought the urge to roll your eyes.
“Don’t be too glum, prez.” He snickered as you both walked backstage, the stage’s curtains closing at your departure. “You can come to my volleyball match next week.”
“I’d rather die.”
“And rob me of your adorably puffy company?” Satoru cooed, pinching your cheeks.
Swatting his hands off, you asked “Since when do you even play volleyball?”
“Since two weeks ago.”
You stared at him, your mind buffering like one of the ancient computers in your grandma’s basement. “Two…….weeks?”
“What,” Satoru looked at you sideways, strands of white hair falling across his face. “like it’s hard?”
Fuck, you hated prodigies.
---
It was an ordinary morning, as ordinary as any morning for an overworked student could be. Your head throbbed, temples violently protesting against pinpricks of pain. The council had you stretched thin - stall areas had to be allocated, people had begun arguing over roles and if you had to hear the art team fight over poster designs one more time, you’d lose your shit.
You barely registered the bell ring, marking the end of your history class. The words in your notebook swam in your vision, your eyes drooped. Your head lolled forward, the sweet bliss of sleep about to welcome you in its embrace-
“Yo prez!” Satoru boomed, his sneakers screeching as he slid to a halt in front of your desk. “Are you auditioning for the mummy?”
“W-what!?” You shot up, sitting straight, eyes wide. What time was it? Where were you?
His fingers flicked your forehead slightly and he shot you the smuggest, most shit eating grin known to mankind. “You look like shit. How are you supposed to keep up with me in maths when your eyebags are deeper than the Mariana trench?”
“I was just cosplaying as you.” Quipping back at him, you stood up and gathered your notes.
His hand shot out, grabbing your arm gently. “I’m the best looking guy in this place and you know it.” Satoru batted his lashes at you, pressing a palm against his chest with all the theatrics only he was capable of.
It was absurd, why did the sunlight have to catch perfectly against his lashes and reveal the depth of his blue eyes? Why did his pupils have to swim with so many hues of cerulean? Just why did god have to give him the face of an angel only to pair it with the most horrid personality mankind had the misfortune of coexisting with?
“What do you even want?” You snapped, “Some of us have work to do.”
Letting go of your arm, he asked “Didn’t you pay attention in class?”
Oh no.
You grimaced. Your heart sank.
Satoru only spoke like that when he had something to hold over your head. In fifth grade, it had been him stealing your barbie dreamhouse’s dress collection. In second grade, he had given that exact cheshire smile (a cursed expression that would forever haunt you) when he had loudly announced to your first crush (a sweet, swoon-worthy exchange student from Germany) that you had cooties.
The smug contortion of his face that stretched across his cheeks had always been a harbinger of disaster to your school life. “Did I miss anything important?”
“Ms Beckett literally repeated it five times.” Satoru tutted, wagging a finger in front of you. “But fine, I’ll be gracious enough to explain it to you. Remember that project she told us about last week?”
“The one about the Ancient Mesopotamian empire?”
“Yup.” Popping the p with all the subtlety of a gorilla in a museum, Satoru waggled his brows “The pairs for it have been plastered on the announcement board. I just checked it out and guess what?”
Oh no. You didn’t like where this was going. It couldn’t be. Surely, your teacher couldn’t hate you that much.
“You,” Satoru struck a dramatic pose that had you gagging, a hand on his hips as he tousled his hair with his head held high. “are looking at your project partner.”
What. The. Fuck.
“We might have to play nice with each other,” Satoru sighed sadly, draping himself across a chair. “The project’s worth half our grade.”
“I’m switching partners.” You turned on your heels, hurrying out of the class.
Satoru ran behind you, chasing after you through the corridors as he screeched your name with all the dignity of a drowned rat. “Wait a minute, I’m not that bad!”
Suffice to say, after an entire day of pestering you and maybe bribing some of the teachers, Satoru got you to remain his partner for the assignment.
“Why’re you even doing so much?” Suguru muttered, sipping on a coke against a pillar after school hours. Brushing back his long black hair, he gave Satoru the long-suffering glance of a best friend who had seen this routine play out way too many times since preschool.
Satoru shrugged, casually slinging his backpack over his shoulder as he kicked at a stray pebble. “Don’t look at me like that, she’s just fun to annoy.” His lips twitched at the corners. “She huffs and gets all pouty like some….some kinda pufferfish. It’s entertaining.”
But that didn’t explain why Satoru was fidgeting with his fingers, his smile widening as he stole peeks at you balancing precariously on a chair while you hung up fairylights for the food stall decoration. Blowing a puff of smoke, Shoko glanced exasperatedly at Suguru who just shook his head.
--
Surprisingly, Satoru was not as bad as you’d imagined to work with. Cocky as he was, he seemed to have the skills to back it up.
Currently, he sat cross legged on your bed, his sneakers kicked to the side. His hair fell across his face as he leaned forward, the glow from the laptop’s screen painting his features in a white hue. “We might need to crosscheck our references.” Satoru murmured, his face serious for once as he typed up his parts of the essay.
“I already did that last night.” You replied, not glancing up from your laptop.
“Of course you did.” Satoru snorted, “Nerd.”
“Says the one who collects Digimon cards.” You muttered under your breath, your fingers clacking against the keyboard. Your shoulder brushed against Satoru’s
Satoru’s head swivelled, his voice rising to a slight squeak. “That’s still cooler than whatever it is you do!”
“Whatever helps you sleep.”
The sudden silence from him had your brows furrowing. Looking up, your face paled when you realised what, or more precisely where, Satoru was looking at.
Before Satoru had arrived, you’d furtively surveyed your entire room for anything the jerk might latch onto to mock you. The first thing you’d stashed away had been your romance comics, their covers filled with swooning female heroines clutched in the arms of dukes and princes with jawlines sharper than a knife.
It was precisely the kind of thing Satoru would have a laughing fit over. You’d been determined for your precious comics to never see the light of day, keeping them hidden in an inconspicuous cardboard box beneath your bed.
So why was a page peeking out beneath the cover!? And why was it the worst possible title for anyone to see, titled ‘I Reincarnated As Empress and Now Have My Own Harem!?’.
“What…” Satoru’s eyes lit up as though he had found the key to Atlantis. “is that?” He sounded almost giddy with excitement.
“Nothing!” You squeaked, kicking the box deeper beneath your mattress. “It…..uh, it belongs to my cousins! Yeah, my cousins, they left it by mistake when they came over last summer.”
Setting his laptop aside, his eyes twinkled with mischief that had your skin prickle. “Your cousins? Sure, I believe you.” “Focus on your work.” Smacking his shoulder lightly, you stared warily at him.
“Right, right, sure…..” Satoru mumbled, turning away. Letting out a breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding, you flicked through your notes to verify a statistic.
Taking advantage of your distraction, Satoru immediately lunged for the box, grabbing it. You screeched, hands flailing as you watched your comics spill out on your bedsheet - a collection of incriminating romantic scenes.
“Oh my god!” Satoru cackled, holding up one of them. “What is this!?”
“Satoru, give it back!” You tried grabbing the book, but Satoru stood up quicker than a bolt of lightning. Using his height against you, he held the book over your head, laughing until he could barely talk.
“Marrying….marrying the cold northern duke!?” Satoru read the title, wheezing as he ducked below the range of your hands.
“I’ll kill you! Give it back!” You jumped, trying to reach for the book but Satoru merely held it higher.
“Too bad, shortie, you aren’t getting it!”
“I hate you!”
“Aw, maybe you’d like me better if I started dressing up in a waistcoat and bought myself a dukedom then!”
“Give it back!”
“Why don’t you try getting it back?” Satoru smirked, dangling the book in your reach before quickly snatching it away.
You pressed forward, a scowl plastered on your face as your cheeks flamed red. Grabbing the collar of his white shirt, you tried shaking his grip off your book.
Your foot caught on the edge of your bed. The world tilted on its axis, your face coming a mere hair’s breadth away from Satoru’s.
Satoru froze, his breath stuttering as his back landed against the sheets. His hand instinctively found purchase on your waist as you fell atop him.
Your pulse stuttered within your chest, throat bobbing as you swallowed hard. Satoru’s ears turned pink, his eyes blown wide with panic and something else you couldn’t figure out, looking genuinely frazzled for the first time in all the years you’d known him.
It shouldn’t have sent a thrill through you. But it did. It felt good to catch him, the untouchable prodigy, off guard. Like you’d won some kind of score you didn’t even realise you’d been keeping in your head.
“Cat got your tongue?” You said, smirking. Snatching your comic back, you held it triumphantly against your chest.
Satoru’s hands slowly let go of your waist, but his grip lingered for a couple seconds. He stared up at you, his lips parting and closing dumbly for a couple seconds. His eyes roved over your face, lingering on the excited sparkle in your eyes. For a split second, he wondered - had your eyes always been so tempting, so easy to get lost in?
He blinked slowly, like he was shaking away some kind of daze. Satoru’s Adam’s apple bobbed slightly before a slow grin split his face. “Your comics are definitely as bad as my Digimon collection. You’re no better than me, prez.”
Laughter, free and genuine for the first time with him, bubbled up your chest. You didn’t know why you laughed. Maybe it was the fact he’d been way cooler with this than you thought he’d be. Or perhaps you just liked the idea of winning over him in some way for once.
“You wish.” You chuckled, your hair falling over your face as you got off him. “I’m always better than you.”
“Oh right, how could I ever compare to your northern dukes?” Satoru bemoaned, but his eyes twinkled with mirth.
You both burst into giggles together again, your sides brushing against each other. You’d never known his joy could sound so warm, like brimming hot chocolate filling your ribs.
--
You’d come to learn a lot of things about Satoru over the weeks of working with him. Things you hadn’t really bothered to notice before.
He could be really introspective on rare occasions (as much as it pained you to admit it). He seemed to have a strange fondness for anything sweet. He always, always was an absolute glutton for food.
With your head buried between piles of notebooks, you barely noticed the world moving around you. Sitting beside you, Satoru’s fingers were already twitching towards your muffin.
You could already tell what he was about to do without even needing to see it. “Absolutely not.” You deadpanned, not glancing up from a hefty textbook.
“You wound me, prez.” Satoru pouted, scooting closer to you till your knees bumped against each other beneath the table. “Can’t you find it in your heart to spare a small crumb for your starving partner?”
“Buy your own-” Your words were cut short by Satoru’s hand sneaking in between the tiny space separating your arm and the table, snagging the plate to his side.
Stealing a bite (that literally took the entire muffin with it), he moaned dramatically around the soft fluffy goodness. “Mmmmh, this is sooooo good. It’s practically melting in my mouth.”
“Motherfucker-” Though your words said otherwise, your eyes flicked to his lips for a second. It was annoying. It was distracting. The fact his lips looked softer than the muffin you’d been waiting to devour was absolutely unfair.
“Don’t worry, don’t worry.” With all the flair of a showman, Satoru produced another muffin from his bag, grinning ear to ear. “Your Satoru is here to save the day.”
“You literally stole mine-”
“Tomato, tomahto. Aren’t you going to thank me?”
Snatching the muffin, your eye twitched exasperatedly. “No. But it will save you from me sabotaging your part of the project.”
Satoru whined, rubbing his head against your shoulder like an overgrown housecat. “You have such a cruel, cruel heart. I’ll be crying myself to sleep because of you.”
You smelled like vanilla and without realizing it, Satoru found himself breathing in the scent. Drowning in it.
You couldn’t stop an amused snort from escaping. Because damnit, annoying as he could be, he had an average sense of humor. Yeah, average. Definitely not that good. It wasn’t like his antics made your study sessions better. Absolutely not.
As Satoru turned his attention back to his books, his heart couldn’t stop the stupid little leap it did at your smile. That was definitely because he’d successfully annoyed you yet again. For sure.
The peace miraculously lasted for another hour. When the bell rang for lunch, you stood up, expecting a relaxing break. Until Satoru nabbed your glasses off your face, making off into a run with his bag haphazardly hung over his back.
“Satoru, get back here!” Hurriedly packing your bag, you chased after him, your cheeks flushing in mortification at the stares that followed you and him. “I’ll ban you from all cultural events!”
“And prevent the school from ever seeing my charming face? I don’t think so, prez. It’d ruin the community’s spirit!” Satoru called back over his shoulder, continuing to run ahead.
“For god’s sake, I need to go eat lunch!”
“But all that studying has made my bones stiff!” He cackled before whirling around, revealing his face alit with boyish joy. Tilting his head, his blue eyes nearly rivalled the sky in their vividness as he hollered. “Besides, your legs will become like jelly if you just keep sitting all day! You already run slower than my grandma, we wouldn’t want to make it worse, would we?”
Satoru led you on an entire chase throughout the school grounds, jumping over fences and zigzagging between pillars. But if anyone had looked close enough, they’d have seen that even with all the chaos he left in his wake with his dramatic parkour, his grip on your glasses remained careful throughout it all.
If at that moment, a student had chosen to look at his movement properly, they’d have realized he kept slowing down his pace every few seconds for you just so you could catch up. And when you’d caught him at last due to his pace faltering from tripping over a stray root, anyone paying just a little attention would have realized - Satoru had let his balance go astray on purpose.
But when your arms flung around him and you did your stupid little victory dance, Satoru had a feeling there was nothing else he would have rather done. As your jubilant laughter filled his ears, Satoru just knew as sure as he’d known that he was good at everything without really trying since childhood - that your stupidly loud laughter might have been worth tripping for.
He just didn’t have any clue when he’d begun thinking that.
--
“Who the hell is that?” Satoru scowled from the back of the class, his fingers tapping agitatedly against the table as he watched you smile at some twerp and go over notes with him.
Suguru pinched the bridge of his nose, “He’s Keegan, the treasurer of the student counsel. Do you seriously have to-”
“It’s not like I care.” Satoru said quickly. A little too quickly. “It’s just, she could do way better. That guy has a personality drier than stale bread.”
“As if you’re any better.” Suguru muttered under his breath as his pen flew over one of the homework exercises assigned for Literature.
“Hey, if she wants to get all smoochy with someone named Keegan out of all things, it’s not my problem.” Satoru snorted, sucking on a lollipop.
Still, for the rest of the class, Satoru’s eyes kept returning to your seat again and again. He couldn’t resist noticing the way Keegan leaned into your side, how you smiled at nearly everything the guy said.
Satoru’s frown deepened with every passing second, oddly confused at his gaze straying to you when it should’ve been on the teacher’s lecture. Since when had his eyes begun searching for you in every room? Hadn’t it always been about winning?
His nails dug into his palm when Keegan’s hand found its way onto your shoulder, something that shouldn’t have affected Satoru - he knew it should be of no consequence to him, but why did it feel like his ribs were collapsing in on him?
Suguru’s words, which Satoru would normally be causing a ruckus over, felt distant to him. Everything felt far away, fading from existence with every passing second until all he could see was the crinkle at the corners of your eyes when you laughed.
He hated it.
He hated you. He hated the way your laugh sounded like sunshine in a bottle. He loathed the intelligence you possessed, the smug tilt of your head whenever you scored more than him. The freckles that dusted across your skin, the slope of your nose, the softness of your cheeks that had his fingers twitching with the urge to cup them, the rise and lull of your words that made his head turn like a flower to sunlight - he vehemently detested it all.
He hated the power you held over him. Because it meant for the first time in his life, Satoru Gojo - prodigy of everything he ever put his mind to, had something he couldn’t get with talents bestowed upon him since birth. He couldn’t wave his black credit card at you and win you over.
All these years, you’d been the vexation of his entire existence and somehow, at the same time the only person whose attention he’d ever bothered trying so hard for.
“Satoru!” Suguru snapped his fingers in front of Satoru’s eyes, shaking his head in disbelief. “Earth to Satoru??? I’ve been asking you to pass that worksheet five times!”
“.....huh?” Satoru murmured, barely present as he handed the book to Suguru. “Yeah, yeah, take it…”
His heart pounded, a drumbeat of the suffering of his own making. Emotions he’d never tried putting words to rushed up like a tidal wave within him, catching him off guard like nothing else in his life never truly had.
He wanted to sit beside you. He wanted to drown in your laughter. He’d pay all the money he had to see you scowl at him even once. He’d been hoarding your every insult like a miser with gold, conjuring up ideas to annoy you everyday to keep your eyes on him.
Did your hand feel as soft as it looked? Was it ever possible for you to smile at him someday too?
Oh god, Satoru froze in his seat like he’d been struck by a bolt of lightning, I’m screwed.
--
It was the last day you and Satoru needed to work on your history project. You’d both decided to meet up at a cafe and finished, arms laden with all your work material. The sun dipped over the horizon as you walked back home with him, the streetlights flickering on.
Reaching over, Satoru carried your bag with his. “What?” He tilted his head at your incredulous look. “You looked like you were struggling. I don’t want to be slowed down by you.”
Shoving him playfully, you said “If we get distinction on this project, just know it’s because of me.”
“No way!” Satoru laughed, catching up with you. “I did my fair share of work too. Cmon prez, I’m not just a pretty face. Give me some credit here.”
“Fine.” You relented, “You’re not too bad to work with.”
Like a cat that got the cream, Satoru’s face lit up. “Ohhh?” He gasped “So you agree that I’m pretty?”
“You wish.”
“But that’s what you said!”
“Your face is…..tolerable.”
“Only tolerable?”
Rolling your eyes, you stalked ahead. “Yeah, so don’t get too cocky.”
That was an absolute lie. Satoru Gojo, bane of your existence and rival since you’d begun schooling, was the prettiest boy you’d ever seen. Even if it would kill you to admit it.
Satoru mocked you, flapping his lips to imitate your expression. But he still shouldered your bag, his footsteps instinctively adjusting to match your pace.
--
The entire campus was abuzz with frantic energy. Each year, during the school carnival, students were allowed to bring a plus one with them. It bought an energy nearly equivalent to prom - the hallways filled with students gathering their nerves to ask out the person they liked.
Satoru swung his legs on the school bench, his demeanour strangely subdued for once. He kept fidgeting with a box on his lap, the lid tied with an incriminating bow (Satoru had spent hours perfecting it).
“What’s that?” Shoko asked, tapping a finger against the ribbons.
“I’m asking her out.” Satoru blurted out, his heart nearly jumping out of his chest.
“Finally!” Suguru threw his hands up, “If I have to see you making googly eyes at her one more time-”
“For fuck’s sake, shut up!” Satoru’s voice went up by three octaves and the bell rang - marking the start of the history class you had in common with him. Delivering a sharp kick to Suguru to quiet him down, Satoru stood up like he’d been electrocuted.
His ears burning, he made his way to the classroom, the chocolate box clutched like a shield. “Okay, you got this.” Satoru repeated to himself like a mantra, making his way around the corner. “Just tell her how you feel, what’s the worst that can happen, you’re the Satoru Gojo-”
The first thing he saw was Keegan with a bouquet of roses. The next was your smile, like you’d been waiting for it. Satoru nearly dropped his box.
His blood roared in his ears, the sound drowning out the rest of the world around him. Faintly, he could hear Keegan asking you out, the words feeling like salt scraped against a gaping wound.
Satoru stumbled back and out of sight, unable to bear watching your response. Why should he be the one to ruin your happiness?
Cursing under his breath, Satoru slammed the chocolates into the nearest trash can. His eyes felt hot, brimming with tears. He’d never cried before, never had a reason to. He’d thought himself above it. But then again, you always had a way of sending him reeling, didn’t you?
He’d been too late. For the first time in his life, when it had actually mattered, Satoru had been too slow.
Hastily wiping his eyes as more students began pouring in, Satoru squared his shoulders and put on his most effortless smile.
That day, he was louder than usual. He sauntered more with Suguru, laughed till his lungs ached.
But with every passing moment, it felt like his heart was cracking a little more.
--
Satoru stared numbly at the basketball in his hands as he sat on the bleachers after practice, mindlessly tracing his thumb over the ridges.
As much as he tried, he couldn’t get you out of his head. You, just you, were driving him mad in a way none of the petty rivalries he had with you ever had.
Satoru dribbled the basketball against the floor as he remained on the bleachers, his chest heavy.
Plap!
The first droplet of rain fell against his face, cold and unforgiving. As quick as it came, it turned into a heavy downpour, slamming against the ground in fat, heavy drops. Satoru raised his head, his eyes sullen before he burst into a run to find shelter beneath the slanted roof of a building.
It had been a week since he saw you and Keegan. The carnival was in two days.
It was stupid, he knew for a fact that any other girl in school would go out with him if he just used his usual disarming smile. Satoru was aware there was no shortage of girls falling for him every week, swooning over him in the audience.
So why, he could only curse in his mind, did he keep searching for you everywhere he went? Satoru felt like ripping his own skin off if he thought about you and Keegan together. The notion of Keegan’s lips ever slotting over yours, over the lips he had dreamt about so often that he’d be able to draw it with his eyes closed, made his knuckles whiten.
A familiar patter of shoes had Satoru perking up - the same footsteps he’d been following behind since he was seven and saw your toothy smile when you ran in the playground.
Your backpack swung as you walked in the rain, safely shielded beneath an umbrella. Satoru’s breath hitched as he watched your fingers peek out, playing with the rain.
Oblivious to being watched, your lips curved upwards as the coldness of the water seeped into your skin. It might have been inconsequential to you, but for Satoru it was akin to an arrow piercing straight through his heart.
God, you were the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. Satoru had never realised it was possible for someone’s lips to look so kissable, that a pair of eyes could make it feel like vines were wrapping around his heart, bewitching him to walk wherever you go.
Oh, but how willfully he’d do so. Even if Satoru bickered and teased you the entire way, he’d walk with you to the ends of the Earth if you merely asked. One smile from you, just one well-placed nudge and he’d be a goner.
He couldn’t bear you never knowing how he felt.There was only one year of school left, just one year of being able to bask in your scowls and laughter alike. What if you graduated unaware of the storm you struck in his heart with every moment in your presence?
Before he could overthink it, Satoru ran. Not for a trophy, not for the cheers but towards you.
You turned at the loud call of your name, only to see Satoru coming to a stop in front of you. “Satoru?” Your voice came out soft, confused. Ever since you both had submitted the project, he’d been avoiding you. You had no idea why, had chalked it up to one of his antics. “Do you need some-”
“Please don’t go to the carnival with Keegan.” He blurted out, cutting you off.
“.....what?” Your face went blank.
“No, I mean-” Satoru backtracked, scraping his hand through his hair. “I can’t tell you who to go with but I really, really need you to know this. You’re the most incredible person I know, there’s…..there’s no one like you in this entire world for me.”
A flush burst across your neck as you gawked at him. His words didn’t just fluster you, it was like every nerve ending within you was on fire. The world had somehow exploded in color, a swirl of brightness until it all narrowed down to him.
The rain fell around you, Satoru’s hair plastered against his face. Dragging a hand over his face, he stared at you as his drenched shirt clung to his chest.
Mistaking your silence for rejection, Satoru rambled on before the urge to run away took over. “You drive me insane, you’re loud and opinionated, you argue for every small thing but……but there’s nowhere else I’d rather be. Everything, I swear to god, every fight I’ve ever started with you is because all I’ve ever wanted is your eyes on me. You’re everything I’m not, you’re smart and you care. You work hard for everything you have but…..but I love you! I understand you’re going out with Keegan but I have to say this-” His words choked up, eyes wide at his own unfiltered torrent.
He loved you? Satoru, the boy whose face appeared in your dreams, whose face you fantasised about punching and kissing senseless all at once loved….you?
“Satoru.”
“I’ve loved you since first grade, I’ve loved you when you bossed everyone around at the playground, I’ve loved you during every stupid speech you gave during assemblies-”
“Satoru.” You repeated gently
“And I…” Satoru’s breath caught in his throat, his chest heaving like he might collapse for you. He knew he would. He’d get on his knees and beg if he had to. “There’s nothing I enjoy more than being around you. You don’t have to feel the same for me, but I can’t go one more day watching you without ever telling you.”
“I’m not going out with Keegan.”
“You aren’t?” Satoru’s face went pale, his hands shaking against his sides. He tried forcing them still, but it was to no avail. “But I thought-”
“I don’t know what you think you saw,” You continued, stepping closer “but I rejected Keegan.”
“Why?” It came out as a plea, a hoarse whisper.
“Because,” This time, you bridged the distance that separated your bodies, cupping his face. Satoru froze, his eyes blown with awe. “I love you too.”
“You….you do?” He croaked out, cheeks red.
“You’re the most infuriating, insufferable boy I know.” His cheeks were softer than you’d imagined them to be during all the nights thoughts of him had kept you awake, the flutter of his lashes against your skin gentler than a summer breeze. “And I love you for it.”
With a low groan, Satoru finally placed his lips upon yours. He tasted like the kikufuku mochi he liked so much, warm and sweet. Hesitantly, as though you’d vanish away like mist if he moved too quickly, his hands came to rest on your waist.
You felt so soft against him. The dip of your waist, the lull and rise of your chest against his, the art of your entire existence - it set every inch of his skin ablaze.
A pathetic, soft keening noise escaped Satoru’s lips as he deepened the kiss slightly, his grip on your waist tightening. “You love me?” He breathed out in pure wonder against your lips, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear.
“Always have.”
“Please,” Tracing the arch of your cheek, he murmured “go to the carnival with me?”
“I kissed you.” You tried saying it with a straight face but your lips kept cracking into a grin. “What do you think?”
Satoru chuckled, his lips still brushing against yours like he couldn’t bear a second without being moulded against your warmth. “I think my charm worked yet again and I have the prettiest girlfriend in the whole school.”
“Only the whole school?”
Satoru thought it over, pressing a finger against his chin in contemplation before shaking his head brightly. “Nah, in the entire world.”
Pressing a faint kiss to the corner of your lips, he murmured “My pretty girl.”
“You’re such an idiot.”
“Mhm,” Satoru cupped your face, his voice softer than you’ve ever heard it. “but I’m your idiot. Yours. Everything I am is yours.”
This time, Satoru kissed you, his free hand trailing up your back to clasp the back of your head. Your cherry lipgloss smeared across his lips and Satoru lapped up the taste as though it was ambrosia.
Yeah, Satoru was definitely the biggest annoyance of your existence. A cocky, resolute moron.
And simultaneously, the best person who had crash-landed into your life.
