❛ I do not want to argue with you anymore. ❜ / It is far too early into the morning for either of them to be awake, yet here they stand across from each other in the hallways, both looking worse for wear for different reasons. Junjie has just arrived in Jujutsu High after spending nearly three weeks away in China for a family situation, and he was tired; worn right to the bone. He did not think he could sustain an argument right now.
dialogue sentence starters : accepting
SUGURU HAD GONE THROUGH SEVERAL different alarm ringtones, from mellow strums to violent beeping, but it was to no avail. Every time his phone buzzed atop the nightstand, that same sense of dread seeped in his veins. Ever since coming back from Okinawa, he felt like one day he had woken up tired and never rested from thereon. A short sigh of relief; the moments he could afford to spend in company of his classmates & friends. But even those were becoming more scarce week after week, as spring break was approaching. Every day, he would reach past the opened letter from his parents ( asking him when school's out to make arrangements for his expected return to Morioka ) and turn off that alarm, then sit at the edge of the bed with his face in his palms — in the same way he had witnessed people slouch on hospital benches while despairing over a loved one's fate.
The day begins in quietude & darkness, orchestrated by the hiss of pouring water, freezing the heavy puff on his eyelids rather than washing it off. Neither him nor Satoru have given an in depth narration of what transpired. Shoko figured it out from the shift in their demeanor and Junjie had to leave a couple of days later; the hallways to the dormitories suddenly feeling cavernous. The cafeteria food somehow tasted even more bland without the banter from before, empty seats glaring back at him where he could once expect to soothe his sickened trachea with the sound of laughter. The silence only served to echo his own thoughts back at him, though. And Suguru ended up finding solace in the auxiliary officer's car whirring or the small pockets of time where it was just him and the buzz of a street lamp as he waited to get picked up after a mission.
He had been rubbing the fatigue into his eyes with the back of his palm when he caught whiff of that familiar presence. Violet eyes flashed open just a crack to peer at the other end of the hallway, where his friend had been dragging his feet towards the communal showers, just as Suguru had been ambling in the opposite direction, towel looped around his forearm & hair still a soggy mess. His absent gaze regained its composure over the unannounced return. And somewhere between the sleep deprivation and the looming raincloud over both their heads, an argument sparked. Suguru found himself going from jilted to frustrated to downright pissed, over what started with a 'you could have texted that you were back' to grumbling accusations and pointing fingers, albeit in a tone that would not disturb the early morning tranquility. Yet, it was laden with that same dreary anticipation as the calm before the storm. His tongue becomes the first sprinkles of rain — and then it lands on a wall.
Junjie stiffens, in that same way he would when a punch knocked the wind out of him in the dojo; always biting down on reactions lest someone exposes him for being the imposter among them. He picks up on the defeated tone that pleads with him to drop it. Violets search for a tired gaze that won't be reciprocated and suddenly, Suguru feels the stormy clouds that have nestled in his heart dissipate. He recalls the expression on Junjie's features when he had been summoned home; the bits & pieces of information that had been afforded to him through tight lips on the Wei family, the dullness of his skin and the darkness pooling under his eyes. He looks to be just as much of a mess as the bathroom mirror told Suguru that he, himself, does — and the question that has been haunting him for days on end suddenly takes on a different intonation.
A sunray licks at some fresh cut on his forearm from last night's mission and his fingers loosen up around the comb he'd been clenching in his grip. He merely stands in place, lips mulling over the words as Junjie moves past him and heads down the showers. And only once the light breeze left on his friend's wake has settled does Suguru turn around, his voice now back to the usual syrupy cadence, warm with empathy for whatever it is that has left Junjie at that state. If he doesn't want to tell him, that's fine. But he has no right to try and stop Suguru from caring, at least. It's the one thing that gives him a sense of purpose these days. His comrades...
❝ Junjie, wait. ❞ An abrupt turn around has thick bangs sprinkle some droplets on the floor. Suguru reaches into the backpack draped over his shoulder, carrying some essentials back and forth in the compound, and hastily balances the things in his grip to unzip the inner pocket and procur a small bundle of popular film themed stickers - Pirates of the Caribbean, Star Wars, horror franchises and even some anime themed ones. Clearly, that was a collection hand picked from the booths of that one Movie Fair they'd agreed to go to together - last week, while Junjie had still been away and out of reach.
❝ Here. I saved this for you. ❞ The plastic bag is held out as a peace offering. Suguru's head cants with an apologetic smile. ❝ You didn't miss much — Shoko was working night-shift at her internship and Satoru had pulled an all-nighter, so we just strolled through the booths for a bit. It was pouring outside, too. And, if I'm honest— ❞ Violet sweetly reaches out to obsidian. ❝ It wasn't the same without you. ❞
