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famous last words

mdni satosugu cw// suicidal ideation, blood strongly inspired by and the gentleness that comes, by persimmonsandcats

there is no one like satoru.

it hurts to think of him, of what he would be doing at this very moment, but suguru does,

it consumes him whole,

even if every memory is muddied by an imposing scribble across his face. perhaps it would be more painful if he could remember what satoru looks like, perhaps it's better this way. maybe that's selfish,

suguru doesn't want that.

he knows what he sounds like, but he doesn't remember. if he were to hear it again, would he remember then? would he remember being young with him? perhaps that would be too painful, too.

what suguru's done is a wound that will never heal, but he still finds him every night when he closes his eyes. he's beautiful there, gentle, perhaps he never should've left.

perhaps it could've been okay, maybe. he should've— he doesn't know what, just not this.

it would be better if he'd never existed, if neither of them had existed. he wouldn't have hurt satoru, a wound so deep that it scarred them both. satoru wouldn't have had to meet him. satoru wouldn't have had to endure the karmic punishment of a life lived as a weapon, and a life ended violently. satoru deserved a proper death.

memories had been springing up like maggots, decaying his psyche, festering in phantom cuts that continue to haunt him.

there was no one like satoru.

suguru wishes for the life he could've had with satoru, perhaps. things would've been different, maybe not better, but different still. suguru doesn't know—

suguru wishes for his hands to stop shaking, but he's crawling back to somewhere familiar. he's caked in blood in his nightmares, and it does not wash off when he's awake. he scrubs his skin until its raw, but red always lingers under his finger nails. perhaps it would be better if it was his own.

suguru wishes to have the strength to gouge his own eyes out, to reach deep enough to stop the invasive memories that continue to sicken him sweetly when they are least welcome, more maggots.

memories had been springing up like maggots.

he doesn't, but he clings to the hopelessly cruel possibility that he will see satoru's face again, and remember what is was like to be young with him.

those moments on the edge of sleep are the most silent, where his consciousness sways and yields. perhaps, that is death. would a life lived as a sorcerer have brought a death as peaceful as this one? suguru wishes to know desperately if satoru would've been at his side, too.

suguru wishes for his hands to stop shaking, but he's crawling back to somewhere familiar. he's caked in blood tonight, and it will not wash off when he's awake. he will scrub his skin until its raw, but red will linger again under his finger nails. perhaps it's better that it's his own.

"he closes his eyes and crawls to where he left satoru and finds a corpse."

#satosugu #satoru x suguru #jjk stsg #stsg angst #satoruxsuguru