Archive of Our Own ^beta

Suguru doesn’t need to turn his head from the piece he’s working on to know exactly who’s just walked into his shop. After all, there was only one person who came in at around 5pm while humming the same god forsaken tune almost every single day.

Gojo Satoru, aka, Suguru's biggest pain in the ass. 

“Suguru!” 

With time, Suguru had learned that trying to ignore Satoru was damn near impossible and it would only delve into a whining Satoru that made Suguru feel second-hand embarrassment. There was no way someone their age could behave so childishly. So, ignoring the little voice inside his voice that would always ask Suguru to just tune Satoru out, he greets the other man back. Or tries to.

“What do you want?” That is the closest to a greeting Suguru could muster.

He keeps drawing, taking the occasional glance to the reference picture his client gave him a couple of days ago. Suguru always liked when their clients were as involved as him in the selection of the tattoo design. He found it especially nice when, though lacking in the drawing department, they tried their best to sketch the design they had in their minds. The tattoo artist loved being able to bring their images to life, loved watching their eyes light up when presented with a fine design of their idea. 

He did not love, however, being interrupted amidst such a process. 

“So cold, Suguru. You should work on your customer skills.” 

“You’re not a customer if you don’t come here for a tattoo.” 

“You don’t know that. Maybe today is the day I’ll let you prickle me with those needles of yours.” 

Suguru just sighs, resigned to deal with Gojo Satoru another day. 

He can still remember the first day Satoru came into his shop. 

Suguru had been in the middle of telling a client how to take care of their tattoo when three teenagers came into the shop. It was obvious they were not old enough to get a tattoo or a piercing on their own. It’s not like he could judge, given Suguru had gotten his first piercing when he was 14 years old, no parent permission whatsoever. Still, he did not want any trouble with an angry, entitled parent so he was very strict with IDs. It was a good thing it was him and not Shoko dealing with the teenagers; the piercer did not give a shit about age. She was always up for piercing whoever wanted a hole in some part of their bodies. 

The trio had waited until Suguru’s client was gone to approach him. They were a funny group: a girl with auburn hair standing in the middle, clearly the one tasked to do the talking, a guy with pink hair (was it natural?) that looked way too nervous, and a black-haired guy that seemed like he wanted to be anywhere but there.

Suguru decided to indulge them a little. 

“How can I help you?” 

The girl took a step forward, chin tilted up, defying.

“We wanted to get a piercing. The three of us,” she clarified, gesturing with her hand to the two boys who were very clearly trying to avoid Suguru’s eyes. At least they hadn’t come in their uniforms, like many others in the past.

“Sure, no problem,” Suguru said. The teenagers seemed to relax a little at his words. “I just need to see your IDs.” He smiled, all polite. The boy with pink hair grabbed the girl’s elbow, clearly panicking. She just shook him off and stared at Suguru with determination. 

“We didn’t bring our IDs with us, but I’m sure that’s not a problem. We are all of age.” 

“How old are you?” 

“18.” 

“20.” 

“17.” 

Suguru tried not to laugh at the bewildered look the girl gave to her two friends. 

“Megumi, Yuji! Are you for fucking real? I said I would do the talking!” 

At least the guy with pink hair had the decency to look embarrassed. The other teenage boy did not give a shit, that much was clear. 

The girl sighed, exasperated. 

“Listen, mister. You don’t have to worry about that, we won’t tell a soul where we got our piercings, we swear.” She elbowed her two friends. 

“We pinky promise!” 

“Sure, whatever.” 

Before Suguru could even answer, the door to his shop was violently opened. A man almost as tall as the door with shocking white hair and sunglasses came in. He spotted the trio of teenagers and his jaw dropped. 

“Children!” He said, almost in a whine, moving forward. The boy with black, spiky hair paled, a grimace taking over his features in record time. “I didn’t know you were in your rebellious phase!” The man gives a glance to the girl and sighs. “Nobara, it was you, wasn’t it? You know those two can’t say no to you, that’s not fair.” 

The girl, Nobara, looked affronted. 

“Gojo-sensei, why are you here?” 

Sensei? 

“You,” the tall man said, ignoring the question and addressing Suguru. “These are children, can’t you see? You can’t pierce them.” 

“We’re not children,” the boy with black spiky hair said in a muffled voice.

What a mess, Suguru thought.

“I was not going to,” he explained calmly.

“Mister!” The girl exclaimed, clearly upset. After glaring at Suguru she turned to the other man. She had some fire in here, alright. “And you! Why are you following us? That’s creepy, I knew something was up with you when Utahime-sensei was very reluctant to introduce us to the substitute teacher.”

“Nobara, you wound me! I’ve only known you for three days, but I still care very deeply about my children, you know? I wasn’t following you, I was just going back home and I happen to notice these three familiar heads going into a place that wasn’t appropriate for their age, so as your teacher─”

“Substitute teacher.” 

“It was my duty to guard my students against illegal activities, of course.” 

Alright, Suguru could not do this. 

“Sir,” he addressed the other adult in the room. “Please stop speaking in such a loud voice.” He then turned towards the trio of students. “I can tell from a mile away you are not of age. I’ll happily pierce you if you come with a legal guardian or when you turn 18.” 

All the teenagers turned their heads away from Suguru, clearly embarrassed. 

“Told you it was a bad idea,” the pink-haired teenager whispered to his friend. 

“Does he not count as a legal guardian?” The black-haired boy asked, thumb pointing towards the tall man. 

“I’m afraid not,” Suguru answered.  

“What a bummer,” the Gojo fellow said, with a fake disappointed voice. “Alright, let’s get going, children. And let this be a lesson! Criminal activities are only allowed when I’m not your teacher. You leave that for when Utahime comes back, okay?”

Suguru was quite sure that had to be the shittiest advice he had ever heard but since he was no teacher, he just kept that to himself. 

The students groaned. 

“Fine,” the girl finally said. “Come on, boys,” she instructed the other two students who just sighed and followed her to the door where their teacher was already waiting for them. Before leaving, she turned to Suguru and said, “We’ll be back, mister!” 

To him, it sounded more like a threat than a promise, but he smiled at her regardless. What a bunch of weirdos. 

Once peace and quietness returned to the parlour, he thought everything was over. But as Suguru would soon learn, nothing ever stays the same after meeting someone like Gojo Satoru. Fifteen minutes after the whole teenagers’ episode, Suguru heard the door to his shop open. 

The white-haired weirdo was back. 

“Can I help you?” 

“You really weren’t going to pierce those kids, right?” 

The ridiculous black sunglasses the man was wearing were completely tinted, Suguru noticed. It was hard not too when this teacher was putting his face all over Suguru’s personal space. 

“I was not,” he answered truthfully.  

The man in front of him kept staring at him a beat longer, as if searching for any traces of deception on his face.  

What a nutjob.  

“Alright, I believe you,” he suddenly said. He was sporting a huge grin, as if satisfied with what he had found on Suguru’s face. “Just making sure you’re not going around playing criminal.” 

Suguru did not dignify the statement with any sort of answer. He simply raised an eyebrow at the eccentric man in front of him, who only smiled wider in return.

“Alright, have a nice day, mister delinquent!”  

And before the tattoo artist could say anything to that, the tall man was out of the door, white hair disappearing in a flash. 

That was the beginning of Suguru’s migraine. After that, Satoru ─yeah, Satoru, not Gojo, because at one point the man had insisted on being on a first name basis with Suguru despite not being close friends at all ─ just kept coming back.

The second time he popped into the store was to make sure Suguru was not going to tattoo any underage person or something along those lines.  

The third time was to keep him company because according to Satoru, he looked a little bit lonely and surely he’d be more than pleased to chat with someone as interesting as him. Surely. 

He visited the shop a third time. And a fourth, and then he just kept visiting. Again and again, and again. Suguru had no idea why, especially because he was sure he never did anything that would encourage Satoru to come back. If anything, he was sure he did the exact opposite. At one point, he just gave up. Gojo Satoru seemed like the kind of person who did whatever he wanted regardless of everyone around him. 

Suguru needs to be honest, though: the other man wasn’t that bad ─annoying with his indecipherable rants about things Suguru really doesn’t care about, sure─ but at least he knows when the tattoo artist is in dire need of silence. 

He would usually remain quiet when the tattoo artist was working with a client. Unfortunately, that isn’t the case now. If anything, he had managed to finish his session with a client a couple of minutes prior to Satoru’s arrival. 

“You’re here earlier than usual,” Suguru notices when he glances at the clock on the wall. 

It seems the wrong thing to say because Satoru just puts on his most obnoxious smile. 

“Missed me?” 

“Hardly,” Suguru doesn’t skip a beat. His answer makes Satoru pout, and he rolls his eyes at his childish antics. 

“Exam season is over, so I let the kids go home earlier. Aren’t I the best professor ever?”

Suguru doesn’t like lying so he remains silent, averting his eyes. He has never seen the other man teach anything, but he doesn’t think he needs to. He knows him enough to come to his own conclusions without any further proof. 

Satoru gasps.

“Suguru! I am an excellent professor, mind you!”

“I didn’t say anything,” he offers, putting his hands up in a calming manner.

“Exactly!”

He would rather die than admit it, but Satoru is so expressive it’s actually funny. In some sort of bad comedy sitcom kind of way. His tone of voice changes so drastically Suguru would suspect he was a theatre kid if he didn’t know otherwise.

“Whatever, what do you know about teaching anyways,” Satoru mumbles. He takes a few steps until he is standing behind Suguru, taking a peak at the design he was working on. He hums appreciatively.

“Looks good,” he mentions casually. Suguru still doesn’t know how he can see through those ridiculous shades he wears everywhere. He has a smart retort at the tip of his tongue, something along the lines of “what do you know about drawing, anyways”, just to mess with Satoru, but he decides against it.

“Thanks,” he says instead. 

Satoru smiles at him. It looks innocent at first glance, but Suguru knows it’s the smile that precedes some kind of uncalled-for comment that will make Satoru cackle like he’s the funniest man alive.

“Although I’m pretty sure that lion doesn’t look very accurate. Didn’t you pay attention in Biology, Suguru? Shame on you.”

Suguru just sighs.

Of course.

{-}

Suguru still remembers the day he found out exactly who Gojo Satoru was. It was Shoko the one to break it to him that Satoru wasn’t just any other regular human being. Suguru already had an inkling regarding that, what with all the pestering and whining unbecoming of someone their age, but he did not know the extent of it. Or rather, he didn’t know in what ways Satoru was special.

Satoru had left the shop after being a menace like any other day. The only difference was that Shoko had been there to witness Suguru’s misery from the front row. 

When Satoru finally leaves, Suguru doesn’t wait a second to turn to Shoko, face screaming “do you see the shit I have to put up with?”. To his dismay, Shoko doesn’t indulge him.  

“You know who he is, right?” She says instead of sympathising with him.  

“The bane of my existence.”  

The piercer rolls his eyes.  

“I’m being serious, Geto. Like, when you told me about this annoying man that comes to bother you, I didn’t know it was the Gojo Satoru you were talking about.”  

“‘The Gojo Satoru’? What, like he is famous or anything.”  

“God, you really do live under a rock. He is, actually. Does the name Gojo really not ring a bell?”  

The blank stare Shoko receives is enough of an answer for her.  

“The Gojos are the academic elite of Japan. Neurosurgeons, engineers, researchers, all those posh titles. I’m fairly sure Gojo Satoru’s father is the head of the RIKEN.”  

“Japan’s number one research institute, huh? No wonder Satoru is able to teach at Jujutsu University for prodigies. Talk about nepotism.”  

“No, dumbass. Satoru,” Shoko mimics the way Suguru says his name and he rolls his eyes. “Teaches at Jujutsu University because he is the leading voice in the physics community. Like, internationally.”  

“Satoru?”  

“He’s actually rumoured to be a contender for a Nobel Prize in Physics.”  

Suguru had no fucking clue. He also wasn’t aware that people, the common folk like him and Shoko who weren’t very into academics per se, would actually know Satoru. 

Shoko had explained that Satoru wasn’t only a physics prodigy with vast knowledge in many other fields, he was hot. Period. He looked like a foreign model and Japanese news channels loved bringing him over because it always made ratings skyrocket whenever he was invited. 

He was funny and charismatic and had actually helped increase the number of students in the physics field of pretty much every university in the country. Japan absolutely loved him. 

Suguru had had a hard time reconciling the image of this almost God-like Gojo Satoru that was constantly traveling abroad to teach seminars while simultaneously being on the fucking cover of Vogue, to the image of the goofy man that liked to pester the tattoo artists like he was getting paid to.

But in the end, like everything that didn’t pertain to him, he just ignored it. Okay, Satoru was this crazy physicist that had everyone in the academic sphere bowing down to his feet, but he was still the bane of his existence. So, although he acknowledged who Gojo Satoru was, he was more preoccupied with who Satoru was ─a nuisance to his job.

He also never brought it up while the white-haired man was around. What was he going to say? ‘Hey, I’ve heard you’re like a modern Einstein or something.’ That would mean making small talk, it would mean inviting Satoru to talk about him. It would mean letting Satoru know Suguru wanted to know more about him. And since that wasn’t the case, at all, he just kept it to himself.

The only time he did ask Satoru something was regarding the three teenagers that came to his parlour some weeks ago. As far as he knows, Satoru is a university professor, not a high-school teacher. Apparently, he had stepped in when their teacher had a family emergency and had to resort to asking the physicist to take over her class just for a week. Suguru had no clue why Satoru Gojo of all people would cover a high-school lesson, but Satoru had said the teacher in question, Utahime, was a family friend and he was more than happy to help her, although he had never taught high-schoolers.

Suguru just thinks life is funny like that: the teenagers only got to be with Satoru for one week and it was during that week they decided to try their luck in his tattoo parlour, inviting the demon in his life.

It could be worse, Suguru thinks when he hears Satoru explain to a girl that just walked in how to book an appointment with the tattoo artists while he finishes the last touches of his current work on his client’s skin. 

 {-}

Satoru strolls in like he owns the place at 6pm. Shoko is leaving, so she says goodbye to him on her way out, and the other man waves back at her. 

“Your piercer is so nice, Suguru. She is always saying hi or bye to me, not like other people who were clearly raised mannerless,” he starts while walking to the one seat he has claimed as his own. Suguru hates to think that Satoru comes so often he actually started referring to the faux leather purple seat as the ‘Satoru seat’. 

“Shoko doesn’t have to deal with you on a daily basis,” is all he says, eyes never leaving the appointments calendar he’s currently working on. For some reason, he notices he has started to leave his 6pm and 7pm slots as free as possible. He quickly goes through his daily mental schedule, trying to find a reason for this. Is he more tired by that time and prefers to have clients earlier? It wouldn’t make any sense, Suguru is trained to tattoo for hours without taking breaks and without feeling tired afterwards. Or at least nothing that a quick stretch and a cigarette can’t solve. 

So, then? 

With a sense of dread, his eyes look at the little clock on the corner of his computer. It reads 6:07pm. Then, he looks to his right, where Satoru has sat down to play a game on his phone, clearly unbothered by Suguru’s silence.

Oh, hell no.

No way Suguru has been scheduling some of his appointments around…Satoru. Why?

Because he’s irritating, he reasons. Suguru does not want distractions while he’s working, so it makes perfect sense that since he can’t prevent Satoru from showing up, he at least makes sure to take measures.

Very reasonable. (He absolutely glosses over the fact that Satoru has always behaved whenever he had an appointment.)

“Suguru,” Satoru calls from his place on the seat. When Suguru lifts his head to look at him, he sees that the other man is still staring at his phone, hands moving incredibly fast over the screen. “I probably won’t be coming next week, so don’t miss me too much.” 

“Alright.” 

Satoru finally looks up from his phone to frown at Suguru. 

“‘Alright?’ You’re not even gonna ask why? You hurt me, you’re so cold to me, Suguru. You don’t care about me.” 

“I don’t,” Suguru admits easily, trying to reschedule a couple of appointments for the slots he unconsciously left empty. He would have to reach out to some of his clients, but he thinks most of them will agree with the new schedules. Not to sound like he was bragging, but he knows he’s somewhat famous and it’s a bit hard to schedule an appointment with him given how busy he is. He doesn’t think any of his clients will give him a hard time about this, they’ll just be happy to finally get tattooed by him. 

“I know you like playing hard to get, Suguru, so fortunately for you, I’m not that hurt.” 

“Sure,” he replies, clearly not listening to Satoru. 

“Fine, I’ll tell you. I’m going overseas for a seminar.” 

Now, this breaks Suguru’s focus. It’s the first time Satoru has talked about anything related to his job, aside from the first time they met and he introduced himself as those kids' teacher. Or sort of teacher. Substitute teacher? He doesn’t really remember.

He makes the mistake of searching for Satoru’s face. The other man is already looking at him, shades hiding his eyes. Suguru doesn’t need to actually see his eyes to guess there’s mirth swirling in them. He looks smug, proud he managed to make Suguru tear his eyes away from his computer.

“Ah, I knew you were interested in me.” 

“What kind of seminar?” He indulges Satoru. Maybe he is a bit interested, he can admit as much. Especially because although Satoru is an avid talker, he doesn’t talk too much about his work. He likes to mention his classes from time to time, but anything beyond that is a bit of a mystery for Suguru. Sure, he did look him up, but he guesses it’s not the same reading about someone’s work than actually hearing the person talk about it. 

“I’m going to the USA to present my latest research. And since I’m going to the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, the authorities there asked me to give a seminar as well. I still haven’t decided on the topic to be honest.” 

Suguru thinks Satoru is impressive, he can’t lie. But he absolutely refuses to let the other man know; his ego is already big enough as it is without Suguru feeding it. 

“Sounds cool,” he settles on. He understands nothing when it comes to numbers and complicated, daunting sounding things like physics and maths. But he understands enough to know it requires an insane level of brain effort. Effort he has decided to dedicate to learning how to tattoo instead. And Satoru’s brain must be next level if at his age he’s already teaching incredibly complex themes in different countries. 

Gojo Satoru seems way too unreal, and for the hundredth time, Suguru asks himself why the physicist likes hanging out in his shop instead of being among his peers. 

Satoru smiles at him, honest. Suguru was sure he was actually going to act all offended at the short reply. 

“It is cool, Suguru. So very cool. A big honour, even.” 

“You must be good at your job, then.” 

Satoru smiles even brighter.  

“I’m the best at my job, actually. Number one in the entire world.” 

“Talk about arrogant.” And then he goes back to messaging his clients about the change of times in their appointments. 

“It’s only arrogant if it weren’t true.”

He doesn’t dignify Satoru with an answer. He doesn’t say anything else, but the tattoo artist can still feel the other man’s gaze on him. Probably studying him.

“I like that about you, Suguru. You don’t care,” he says after a while. “It’s so refreshing. You do know who I am, right?”

This time, there are no traces of arrogance in his voice. He’s asking about himself as if he were talking about the weather. Suguru guesses Satoru is so used to being famous and fawned upon, his reputation is only natural to him. He can’t blame him, although a little bit of humility would do him good. 

“Unfortunately. Shoko told me, actually. I had no idea you were so accomplished. Could’ve fooled me, to be honest.” 

“That’s what I’m talking about! Suguru, you don’t care. And it’s not even about you not knowing shit about the academic sphere.” Well, isn’t Satoru terribly honest? 

“Wow, thanks for calling me ignorant, I guess.” 

“No, Suguru. You’re missing my point. You’re not ignorant.” 

Suguru bites and looks at the other man again. There’s this look on his face, like he’s struggling to find the right words. 

“I mean. Like. You’re not ignorant,” he repeats, as if afraid Suguru would think otherwise. “I just meant. Like, huh.” 

And this is a first. Suguru watches as Satoru stumbles upon his words, clearly trying to say the right thing. There’s a frown between his eyebrows. Well, it seems looking at numbers the entire day would rob anyone of the ability to be coherent.  

“Give me a second. I mean. I’m not insulting you.” 

“Satoru, take your time,” Suguru says, nonchalantly. “I know you didn’t mean to insult me.” That much is clear, at least. Probably. The man mustn't be used to explaining what he says or what he means; Suguru guesses everyone just accepts everything that comes out of his man as an irrefutable truth. Satoru, smart as he is, doesn’t seem like he would make a good teacher. A contradiction, really, given his line of work. 

“Oh.” 

Satoru looks surprised. Suguru raises an eyebrow at him.  

“I meant,” he clears his throat. “That even if you know who I am, you don’t care. You are no bootlicker. You treat me like a regular person.” 

Suguru rolls his eyes. 

“You might be our generation’s Einstein, but you’re still a human, Satoru. I don’t know why I should treat you any differently.”  

The physicist doesn’t say anything after that. Abruptly, he stands up and fixes the shades on his face, although they look perfectly fine to Suguru.

“Well, would you look at that! Is it already this late? I know how much you enjoy my presence, Suguru, but I still need to pack.” The complete 180 throws the tattoo artist off. 

“I’ll bring you a souvenir!” Satoru says, already reaching for the door. Perhaps Suguru is hallucinating, because he swears he can see a faint blush on the physicist‘s cheeks. “Don’t mop too much!” And before Suguru can say something back, the other man vanishes from the shop. 

Suguru can’t, for the life of him, understand Satoru at all. He knew geniuses were eccentric, though he never thought he would be able to get close enough to one to personally corroborate such a statement.  

Life is funny like that. 

Whatever, all he knows is that he’s getting a break for a week. 

{-}

When Satoru comes back to the parlour again, at least 10 days have gone by. Not like Suguru was keeping count or anything. It’s just, Satoru had said a week and the tattoo artist just noticed he had three extra days of peace. That’s all. 

“Suguru! I’m back! Missed me?”  

He’s still as loud as Suguru remembers. He’s currently cleaning his tools, and he’s glad there’s nobody else in the shop to witness this extra energetic Satoru being a pain.

“There goes my peace and quiet.” 

“Come on, don’t be mean! I know you missed me. I even brought you a gift.” 

Suguru sighs. He takes off his black latex gloves, throws them in the bin, and steps closer to a very excited-looking Satoru. 

“Here,” Satoru thrusts a small bag towards Suguru. 

“You really didn’t have to,” he says, but accepts the present nevertheless. It’s the polite thing to do. Although it really escapes Suguru’s mind why Satoru thinks they’re close enough to be giving each other presents like this. 

Inside the bag, Suguru finds a little enamel dragon keychain. He takes it out to inspect it closer. It’s actually quite detailed; a white dragon with yellow eyes, claws and fangs out.  

“I thought you were going to bring me something with a USA flag,” Suguru says. The keychain’s quality is quite nice, he notices as he weighs it on his palm. 

“Nah, too overrated. Do you like it or not?” 

Ah, the tattoo artist doesn’t like being too nice with Satoru, it feels like if he extends his hand, the other man will grab him by the elbow. But he has manners, at the very least.

“It’s really good, Satoru. Thank you,” he says sincerely. He can be honest, at least. “You didn’t have to, but I appreciate it.” 

The white-haired man looks pleased with himself. 

“I knew you’d like it,” he says, smirking. “I saw you like sketching dragons in your binder of designs.” 

Of course Satoru was snooping around his sketches while left unattended. Suguru isn’t surprised, nor does it bother him much. His sketches are for his clients to see his type of art style, after all. Though the tattoo artist generally offers the binder to them, he has it underneath the counter, not on top of it. Thus, it means that Satoru had been snooping around behind the counter although he had told him a thousand times that he wasn’t allowed there since he didn’t work there.

Everything had fallen into deaf ears, it seems.

Suguru decides he’s going to let it slide since Satoru’s snooping got him a nice little keychain in the end. 

“How was the seminar?” He asks. A little reward for Satoru. Suguru knows how much the other man likes rambling; he’s taken to talking his ear off whenever it’s just the two of them in the shop. 

The physicist gives him a wide smile.  

“It was great, Suguru! Mind you, I did the whole thing in English, because I’m also great at languages. Aren’t you impressed? Everyone was so impressed with my fluency. As they should, and you know what?” Satoru sits on the Satoru-seat, getting comfortable as he recounts his ten days in the USA. 

Suguru goes back to tending to his tools, Satoru’s monologue providing the perfect background noise while he works. 

Satoru isn’t so bad all the time, he concedes. 

{-}

Satoru drops by the shop after work, that’s not new. What is new, though, is the blonde man he seems to be dragging with him. 

“Suguru!” 

The tattoo artist doesn’t even look up from where he's putting away his new materials.  

“Satoru, you don’t have to yell, I can hear you just fine.”

Suguru can hear the backdoor closing; Shoko’s left for her smoke break, although she just had one twenty minutes ago. She’s probably just fleeing from the scene. He doesn’t blame her, he would also rather smoke than deal with someone as infuriating as Satoru. Unfortunately, it’s not like he could close the store every time Satoru dropped by. He would go bankrupt, actually.

“This is Nanami, my junior and my friend from work.” The white-haired man introduces the man beside him, who doesn’t look too happy to be there.

“We’re coworkers,” Nanami corrects. He briefly bows towards Suguru. “I’m Nanami Kento, pleasure to meet you.” 

“Isn’t he funny, Suguru?” Satoru laughs lightly, delighted by the display of politeness.

Suguru doesn’t think it’s funny to be polite, but he refrains from acknowledging Satoru. He turns around in his chair to properly face the two men in the store.  

“Geto Suguru, the pleasure is mine,” he greets back. He’s still a bit lost as to why Satoru thinks he cares about getting to know his coworkers. Suguru is lost as to why Satoru thinks he cares about anything Satoru-related, period.

“Nanami wants a tattoo, and I told him I knew the right place for that.” 

Oh.  

Okay. That’s actually nice of him.

He eyes the man standing next to Satoru: he isn’t short, but nobody gets the chance to look tall next to the giant that is Satoru Gojo. Suguru isn’t short by any means, and still, he knows Satoru has at least 4 centimetres on him which truth be told, it’s kinda annoying. He’s never met anyone taller than him before. 

Nanami Kento is blonde, hair slick back. He’s wearing a suit that resembles the one Satoru wears; only his looks crisp and proper, not a wrinkle on sight. Unlike the other man, he wears a tie and a blazer that sports the Jujutsu University logo. This man looks like the actual definition of proper and collected, a stark contrast to the clown next to him. The only thing that disrupts his image is the funny glasses he’s wearing. Suguru is starting to believe it’s actually a requisite to wear stupid glasses in order to be able to teach at that university. 

In sum, Nanami is a boring, good-looking man that doesn’t really look like the type to get tattoos, though Suguru knows better than to judge a book by its cover. 

“I think I can help with that.” 

He quickly puts his materials away and stands up, motioning Nanami to move towards the counter he uses to discuss designs with his clients. Satoru grabs the man by the elbow and practically pushes him to take a seat. Suguru is impressed by the fact that Nanami doesn’t deck Satoru on the face right there.

“So, Nanami, already thought of something?” Suguru stands on the other side of the counter. 

“Not…really.” He sighs. “I’m sorry if this is a waste of your time, Geto-san. I just told Gojo in passing that at some point I’d like to have a tattoo. He practically dragged me here although I told him several times it was just a thought I had.”

“Nonsense, Nanami! Suguru here is rather good at designing too! Maybe he can help you design something you will like. Come on, Suguru, show him your designs,” Satoru almost demands, bringing down his palm on the counter. 

The tattoo artist is torn between being upset at how demanding the physicist is and being touched that he acknowledges Suguru’s skills. Rather good, he had said. 

“Gojo, stop it.” Nanami frowns at Satoru. “Again, I’m sorry Geto-san, you don’t have to listen to Gojo. Sorry if we’re wasting your time.” 

Suguru smiles at the younger man emphatically. It’s not like he knows Satoru in depth, but he can definitely tell he’s the type of man who doesn’t understand what “no'' means. Basically, the type of man who does whatever the fuck he wants, regardless of unwilling parties. 

“Hey, don’t apologise. Actually, Satoru is right, I can always help you design something if you’re not too sure what to get.” He then pulls out from under the counter a binder with his latest designs. “Here, you can have a look if you want. I don’t know if my art is the one you’re looking for, though.” 

Nanami nods, thanking him before going through the assorted designs in the red binder.  

Satoru catches his eyes and smiles at him, almost as if saying “I’ve done well, haven’t I?”. Suguru snorts. Sometimes the physicist is so transparent. 

“These are really good, Geto-san,” Nanami says, eyes stuck on the various shikigami adorning the pages of the binder. 

“I told you, Nanami! You should trust me more.” 

“Satoru, shut up.” There’s no heat in Suguru’s voice. “Thanks, Nanami. Take your time. You don’t have to decide today, after all, a tattoo is a pretty permanent thing. You can think it through and drop by when you’re ready. We can sketch something together if you’d like that, as well.” 

“I appreciate it, Geto-san. I definitely like these types of tattoos,” he says, gesturing at the binder. 

“I’m glad.” Suguru smiles. He always did like being praised for his designs. 

“Nanami, what about me? You should thank me, too. I made this happen, you know?” 

The little twitch in Nanami’s left eye, still visible through his glasses, has Suguru choking back a snort. Being a general nuisance is a talent and Satoru is extremely good at it. Suguru guiltily admits it’s rather fun to witness Satoru annoying someone else other than him for a change. He’s gotta give it to the guy, he can be pretty funny. 

“Thanks, Gojo,” Nanami says reluctantly.  

Satoru preens and Suguru coughs to hide a laugh.

They chat for a bit more, Nanami slowly opening up to Suguru about the kind of tattoo he had envisioned, they even get to have a rough idea of the work. Surprisingly, Satoru doesn’t really try to insert himself in the conversation. He seems content enough to sit next to Nanami and watch them talk. It’s a bit odd that he’s being so well-behaved, but Suguru doesn’t want to point it out lest he reverts back to his gremlin self.

They don’t agree on a date for the tattoo appointment yet; Nanami would like to come back in the future when he isn't so busy to better refine his idea. Suguru easily agrees, always happy to work side by side with his clients. He likes it when his clients have enough trust in him to let him sketch to his heart's content, though he’s gotta admit he absolutely loves it when his clients are with him every step of the way.

Suddenly, Satoru’s phone rings, and he excuses himself to take the call. When he exits the shop, Nanami clears his throat.

“Geto-san,” he starts, looking a bit unsure of himself. “I still don’t really understand how Gojo and you got to meet. I don’t really care.” Suguru smiles at the bluntness. It’s refreshing. “But Gojo seems to like you just fine and you seem to…tolerate him.”

Suguru hums.

“That’s one way of putting it.” 

“Gojo is brilliant, and I trust him. Yet I have zero respect for him.” At this, he looks at Suguru, who only shrugs, not knowing why Nanami was telling him all of this. “And I don’t really care that much about him, but he’s still my colleague.” 

He takes a deep breath, as if bracing for the words that he’s about to speak. 

“What I mean is…Gojo-san is annoying beyond understanding but he’s not exactly a bad person. And he can be…a bit naive when it comes to people. Just.” Nanami looks in pain and Suguru finds the whole thing amusing. “Don’t take advantage of him. He seems to really like you.” 

Suguru wants to make fun of the expression Nanami is wearing: a grimace that contradicts his words. Yet the choice of words stops him from doing so. Take advantage? How on Earth would Suguru take advantage of someone like Satoru? It’s not like the physicist has something that Suguru wants, not that he would take advantage of him even if that were the case. He likes to think he has some fucking common decency.

Such a statement only serves to raise questions in Suguru’s mind. Gojo Satoru does not seem like a person you could take advantage of, if anything, everything about him screams do not fuck with me. Underneath the aloof behaviour, Suguru can tell Satoru is no dumbass although he has the role perfected to a T. 

“Sure,” he answers, not really knowing what else to say. What do you even say to something like that? 

Nanami nods, seemingly satisfied with Suguru’s half-assed answer. Before he could even try to say something else, Satoru comes back to the shop. 

“Emergency meeting!” He announces, quickly wrapping his arm around Nanami’s shoulder. The younger man shakes him off, sighing right afterwards. “Nanami, you too. So let’s get going, chop-chop!” 

“I hope they pay us overtime or I’m not going.” 

“We’ll see about that,” Satoru answers. “I’m so sorry we have to cut our meeting short, Suguru. Try not to be too sad about it, alright? I promise I’ll come visit soon so don’t miss me too much.” 

Suguru is not amused. 

“Take your time,” is all he says. He’s aware there’s nothing in his power he can do to actively stop the man from coming back. Trying to discourage him from showing his face around the shop seems to have the absolute opposite effect. Honestly, Suguru has resigned himself to deal with Gojo Satoru, because for some reason that escapes Suguru’s mind, he likes to hang around the shop although the tattoo artist has never given any indication that he likes having Satoru around. If anything, he’s sure he’s done the opposite. 

“See you tomorrow, then!” Satoru throws a peace sign at him and grabs Nanami by the shoulder. “Let’s go, Nanami.” 

“It’s been a pleasure, Geto-san. Thanks for your time,” he says. He bows shortly at him. 

“No problem, Nanami. Feel free to come back so we can discuss your tattoo if you want.” 

“Suguru! You wound me! You never ask me to come back,” the physicist pipes in, mock indignation dripping in his voice. 

“I wonder why that is.” 

Satoru seems like he’s about to say something back, but Nanami grabs him by the uniform and pulls them both out of the shop before Suguru can hear the smartass retort he was sure the other man had ready. A small mercy, at last. 

God, Suguru already feels exhausted, and he still has a couple of hours more to go. He has no idea how Nanami, who works with Satoru, deals with him on a daily basis. He goes back to organising his materials, hoping he’ll be able to have everything neatly stashed before his afternoon appointment shows up. 

Rather good at designing, Satoru had said.  

Suguru acknowledges Satoru might not be as annoying as he initially thought. 

{-}

Suguru sighs, deftly removing his hair tie from his loose ponytail. He gathers his strands in his hand, carefully brushing back his bangs. They were still too short to be able to gather in a ponytail, the dark strands falling over his eyes when he was done tying his hair up. With a defeated sigh, he reaches into his pocket for a couple of bobby pins, pinning his hair away from his face. He didn’t really like using the bobby pins; since his hair was so thick, he had used way too many to keep his hair away from his face and he didn’t like how cluttered it looked on his head. He didn’t love the feeling, either. 

It’s not like he could work with his hair obstructing his view, so Suguru just learned to deal with it. 

He’s been sketching the new piece for a client for almost an hour now; Mei Mei was painfully meticulous with her tattoos, not like Suguru isn’t, but she definitely takes the whole attention to detail to another level. 

It’s fine, the tattoo artist likes to feel challenged, likes to be trusted with such care. Thus, Suguru had accepted to craft the raven tattoo Mei Mei had wanted to etch into her skin for a couple of months now. 

It’s coming quite nicely, if Suguru says so. It’s a big piece, meant to cover most of Mei Mei’s back. He would enjoy the process more if his bangs weren’t in the way so often. 

Twenty minutes later, he can feel some of the strands escaping the bobby pins, and Suguru absolutely hates that light feeling of hair tickling his jaw. It irks him, especially when it disrupts his concentration. Almost aggressively, he takes out all of his bobby pins, cursing under his breath when some of his hair gets stuck in between them. 

“Here, let me.”  

Satoru’s voice almost gives him a heart attack, and his head turns so fast Suguru is almost sure he just pulled a neck muscle or something, 

“Jesus, calm down Suguru, it’s just me.” 

Satoru looks at him, hands up in a placating manner. He looks like the perfect image of innocence, with his wide eyes peeking from underneath those ridiculous shades that slide down his nose, if not for the fact that the shop is closed and Suguru is sure he locked the door. 

“Satoru, what the actual fuck?” He asks once he recovers from his almost heart attack. He hadn’t even heard the other man come in. “How the hell did you get in?” 

Because Gojo Satoru is a force not to be reckoned with, he smirks. All sharp teeth and amused eyes, he does not look sorry at all although he most certainly should since he just broke into Suguru’s shop. 

“The backdoor,” he answers. 

“It was locked.” 

“It certainly was.” That fucking smirk is still dancing on his face and Suguru wants nothing more to reach out and shake the living fuck out of the white-hair man while screaming what the fuck is wrong with you? He doesn’t. He just glares at him, feeling the beginnings of a migraine forming at the front of his skull. “Nice lock, by the way. It took me longer than usual to open it.” 

“Satoru, at least have the fucking decency to lie. Don’t just admit you broke into my shop, what’s wrong with you?” 

“Suguru, I would never lie to you.” Satoru coos. Suguru is going to fucking kill him. “I could see you through the window and I knocked on the door a couple of times, but you didn’t even look up from your desk. So really, if you had paid attention to that I wouldn't have needed to come inside by my own means.” 

“Don’t,” Suguru starts, resting his thumb on his forehead. “Don’t try to put the blame on me. Don’t you see how wrong this is? Also, how the fuck do you know how to pick locks? Have you ever been here before while I was not in the shop?” 

Satoru gasps, looking almost offended. 

“Of course not! Who do you think I am? I only came in because I knew you’d be here, I would never break into your shop if you weren’t here, come on.” 

“How considerate,” Suguru deadpans. 

“I know, right?” 

Suguru feels like he should point out even more how wrong it is to pick up locks, and should highlight that if the shop’s closed, it clearly means nobody is welcomed. Jesus, Suguru is sure he could actually call the police and press charges for trespassing. He does not have enough strength in him to continue telling Satoru off, especially because he knows the other man does not give a shit. 

He also admits Satoru’s skills with locks do impress him a little although they shouldn’t. One look at Satoru’s unapologetic grin and Suguru knows it's a losing fight. He has lost count of how many of those he has actually won.

“What do you want?” He settles on. Might as well entertain Satoru now that his concentration is gone.  

The man in front of him brightens up at Suguru’s resignation to deal with him. Really, Suguru should be sterner with him. 

Satoru reaches into his pocket and proceeds to show him two little Kurumi hair clips. 

“Here! I got this for you,” he announces while slightly shaking the hair clips. “I’ve noticed your hair gets in the way a lot and I thought these would help you.” 

That’s…actually quite thoughtful.  

“So you broke into my shop to give me these…Kurumi hair clips. Couldn’t it wait until tomorrow?” 

“It absolutely could not. I’ve noticed you always get annoyed with your bangs, so I decided to put you out of your misery. The sooner the better.” 

Satoru is looking at him eagerly, clearly waiting for Suguru to praise him for his seemingly good deed. He’s not gonna do that. 

“Alright, gimme here.” Suguru extends his hand. Might as well accept the gift. 

Instead of giving the hair clips to him, Satoru takes a step towards Suguru and leans down. 

“Let me,” he says, not waiting for Suguru’s permission before carefully gathering his bangs and brushing them back against his skull. Once he’s satisfied with the placement of the strands, he clasps the hair clips, securing everything in place.  

He takes a step back to admire his work and nods to himself, clearly satisfied. 

“All done, Suguru.”  

The tattoo artist is so glad Satoru doesn’t mention just how pliant he became under the other man’s touch. Commonly, he would just bat Satoru’s hands away, the act very much like that of swatting an annoying and particularly vicious fly. The care with which Satoru handled his hair, gentle fingers making sure Suguru’s vision was no longer obstructed, did not inspire any fight response. 

He clears his throat and turns his head towards one of the many mirrors decorating the wall to his left. The two Kurumi hair clips sit on his head, securely clipping his bangs away. It should look ridiculous on him ─ after all the Sanrio character didn’t quite match Suguru’s piercings and tattoos ─ but he can admit it’s not so bad. They don’t look too out of place, and most importantly, they do the job a hundred times better than the fragile bobby pins he always wears.

“Better?” Satoru asks, that eager look back on his face.

Suguru should learn how not to give in so easily, but for once, Satoru deserves a little praise. 

“Yeah,” he answers, trying to sound nonchalant. Acknowledging Satoru has done a good job didn’t mean he was going to be enthusiastic about it. It would be like adding kerosene to the gentle flame that had managed to light up after several tries. “Better than my bobby pins at least.” 

“Why so stingy with the compliments, Suguru.” Satoru clicks his tongue, clearly annoyed at the lack of reaction. “Look, I even got the Kurumi one’s for you so we could match!” Suguru watches as Satoru fishes out two Cinnamoroll hairs clips from his other pocket.  

Satoru’s hair isn’t too long, but some of his strands are long enough to be clipped away.  

“See?” He asks, looking a bit silly with his short strands clipped to the side like that. Truth be told, the hair clips suit him. White and baby blue. For once, his forehead is on display, his white eyebrows shaped in a delicate line over his eyes. Suguru has always thought Satoru looked quite…unreal. Like an entity that doesn’t quite belong to the mortal realm. Now more than ever, with only those ridiculous shades obstructing his face and mouth surprisingly shut for once, he understands why magazines would go to battle to book one photoshoot with him.

“Now we match!” It’s the deep, raspy voice that doesn’t quite match his doll-like features that betrays his unheavenly statue. He gestures wildly at the hair clips on Suguru’s hair and then at his own. 

“If you say so,” Suguru says, going back to the sketch on his desk. The hair clips feel tight on his head, and he knows now he will be able to sketch without his bangs falling all over his face. He doesn’t have to look at Satoru’s face to know he’s sporting that disappointed look on his face, like he does every time Suguru doesn’t pay attention to him.  

Without turning back, he decides to be merciful for once. He guesses he can ignore the pick locking if that means he’s gonna be able to finish his design without stopping every twenty minutes. 

“Thanks, Satoru. These hair clips are really helpful.”

“Of course, Suguru,” comes the reply in a small, shy voice.

{-} 

Through the buzzing crowd, large and suffocating, Suguru sees a tall figure that stumbles through the sea of people. He pays no attention at first, probably a drunk tourist that underestimated the subtle power of sake. He rolls his shoulders and fishes for the cigarette inside his back pocket. When he sees it's one of Shoko's he grimaces; as much as his friend had introduced him to smoking, their preferences remained quite different. But after a seven-hour session, he is really itching for some awful good ol’ cancer-inducing nicotine. In no time, he's lighting it up, muscles relaxing as his lungs fill with smoke. Shoko had started experimenting with flavoured cigarettes and it leaves a sweet and tangy aftertaste that he doesn’t really like. Still, the motions of just sucking on a stick and exhaling smoke is enough to get his mind to quiet down for a second. It’s quite hot and soon enough, Suguru feels sweat accumulating on his forehead and in the back of his neck. He still doesn’t understand why there are so many tourists during such a shitty season.

Suguru's eyes keep getting distracted by the idiot surfing through the crowd.  

Someone should do something about it, he idly thinks while taking another puff. People didn't seem to pay much attention, they were just skirting around them, avoiding the person without actually sparing a second glance. Suguru guesses it doesn't matter as long as the person doesn't become an actual nuance. He's halfway through his cigarette when the figure steps out of the shelter of the shade provided by the massive trees lining up the streets. Suddenly, there's a strange shock of white. A foreigner, for sure, Suguru thinks as he examines the figure still stumbling through the crowd. A tall one, at that.  

However, the more he looks at it, the more familiar it becomes to Suguru.  

It's not a drunk tourist. 

It's fucking Gojo Satoru, trying to navigate the endless stream of wide-eyed tourists with their phones snapping shot after shot of the magic that comes alive in Shibuya in summer. Suguru notices how Satoru looks like he's shielding his eyes with one hand while the other is trying to carefully sort through the crowd. 

Suguru frowns. Is the other man seriously drunk? Satoru had said alcohol wasn't for him, but Suguru doesn’t know him well enough to properly know whether the man was an avid drinker or not. 

He doesn’t look too well, actually, so Suguru sighs and decides to take pity on the stumbling man. No matter the situation, Satoru is always such a fucking pain in the ass. He quickly finishes his last drag and puts out the cigarette on the scalding pavement before quickly going back into the shop to turn the sign on the door. It reads “BE BACK SOON”. He easily swifts through the overly eager crowd of foreigners and reaches the stumbling Gojo Satoru, who looks like he's minutes away from passing out. It’s such an odd look on him that for one second Suguru questions whether the man in front of him is the annoying-as-fuck physicist who likes to hang around the tattoo shop for God’s know why. Gojo Satoru, Suguru begrudgingly concedes, taking into his height and snow-white hair, is too unique to mistake for someone else. 

It’s a bit of a feat to get to him, there isn’t much space to move and nobody seems too avid on letting Suguru through. Pushing through countless sweaty bodies, Suguru manages to stop in front of Satoru. 

"You okay, man?" He decides to make his presence known before slowly settling his palm on Satoru's shoulder.

"Suguru?" He asks, and Suguru doesn't miss the note of relief in his voice. "Hey," he greets, his hand immediately finding purchase on top of Suguru's hand. His treacherous heart jumps a bit at the sudden contact. 

Suguru notices his hand is clammy and under any other circumstance he would poke fun at him, but Satoru truly does not look okay. He doesn't smell of alcohol. Suguru doesn't know what's going on, but he has to admit that watching Satoru like this feels fucking wrong.  

"Need some help?"  

"I'm just feeling a bit dizzy, do you mind if I sit with you for a minute?"  

Immediately, Suguru knows there's something very wrong going on with Satoru; he can't remember a time in which Satoru's voice isn't tinted with that infuriating little tone that indicates that everything is a joke to him. There's no smirk, no exaggerated flutter of his white eyelashes, no pout on sight. Everything screams "wrong, wrong, fucking wrong": this isn't the Gojo Satoru he has come to know. This is someone entirely different, so vulnerable in the way he grabs Suguru for support and tries to shield his eyes, a grimace on his face, Suguru is momentarily lost. 

"I promise I won't bother you much," Satoru says, braving a smile through what Suguru believes to be a migraine. It's awful to see and it makes something foreign swirl in Suguru's chest. His stomach tightens at the poor sight before him. 

"Shut up, stupid. Come on." Gently, he reaches for Satoru's waist and circles it, prompting the other man to lean on Suguru. "Let's get you out of here." 

Satoru is silent the brief minute it takes to reach Suguru's tattoo shop. It's surprising how badly Suguru wants the other man to just run his silly mouth like he always does, to comment on Suguru's emo fashion sense, on his gauges that make him look like a criminal ("like a hot one, though!"), on his lip ring, anything at this point. He's so unaccustomed to this silent Satoru, it's horrifying. 

Once inside, Suguru doesn't bother turning the sign on the door back. For some reason, the idea of someone walking into the shop and witnessing Satoru in such a vulnerable state sits awfully with him. He helps Satoru to his designated purple seat and then stands there, awkward, not knowing how to proceed. The AC is on and Suguru can feel how the frigid air chills his slightly damp skin. Satoru also looks like he’s enjoying the cold treat, if the way his head turns slightly to the AC is anything to go by. 

He does look a little better than before, but he doesn't look completely alright. It's just now that Suguru notices the lack of the ever-present black shades that the other man wears like he was paid to. 

"Where are your sunglasses?" He dumbly asks. 

At this, Satoru smiles. His hand is still shielding his eyes, head thrown back against the back of the chair. 

"I knew you secretly liked me with my shades on, Suguru."  

"Knock it off. You look like shit, what's with you? Do you need a painkiller, need me to call someone? I have some cold water, too.”

"Wow, aren't you a gentleman? I'll have you know I always look more than presentable, so stop being fucking rude."  

Suguru doesn't dignify Satoru with an answer. He just waits until the physicist decides to drop the act and behave like a regular human.  

It doesn't take long, and Suguru smirks in spite of himself when he sees the way Satoru heaves a dramatic sigh. 

"I have a slight degree of photophobia, that's why I always wear my amazing and very expensive, custom-made shades. I wasn't going to leave the house for long, just a quick run for ice cream, so I left them at home. I remembered I needed to buy something for an upcoming trip, too, and I thought I could just get them while I was out. It wasn't going to take too long. I admit that was a slight misstep on my part." 

Photophobia, light sensitivity. Suguru takes a quick look outside his shop: it's hella sunny, and the asphalt only seems to aggravate the situation, the sunrays reflecting off the street like a searchlight.  

"I never knew you being an edge lord with your dark as fuck aesthetic would come in clutch, I can guarantee you that."  

Well, Satoru is not wrong. Suguru spends a lot of time at his shop, either designing or tattooing, so he has tried to make it as pleasant for his eyes as possible. He’s never been good with bright colours, so most things are painted in a deep purple and in true tattoo-shop-fashion, there’s even a black wall. It might not look like the neatest shop, but it has Suguru’s personality plastered all over the place and he couldn’t be prouder. 

Before Suguru drops the smartass retort at the tip of his tongue, he notices how Satoru reaches inside his pocket with his free hand. Without looking at it, he dials a number and presses the phone to his ear. It doesn't take long for the person on the other line of the phone to pick up. 

"Nanami," Satoru says, with the same relief he said Suguru's name on the street. For some unknown reason, Suguru immediately dislikes it. "Forgot my sunglasses at home. I'm at Suguru's."  

Suguru can't tell what Nanami is saying but what he can tell is that there's a lot of yelling.  

"Aye, aye, you're right, I'm wrong. Happy now? Just come pick me up before I throw up from sensory overload." More yelling. "Yes, I love you, too, Nanami. See you soon." 

Although Satoru has managed to sound nonchalant throughout the entire conversation, Suguru notices the way Satoru's shoulders sag after he ends the call. It seems that simple call was enough to drain him. He also wonders if Satoru’s been meaning to make that call earlier but couldn't juggle calling someone while trying to blindly navigate through the crowd of tourists.

"I'm not gonna throw up, by the way," Satoru suddenly says. "Don't worry, I just said so to scare Nanami. He's not good with that kind of stuff." 

Satoru's been shielding his eyes with the same arm since Suguru spotted him, it can't be comfortable. In fact, his forearm keeps clenching lightly. He ignores the way Satoru keeps going on and on about Nanami's supposedly delicate stomach and walks towards him.  

In a gesture that leaves even Suguru surprised, he gently removes Satoru's arm from across his face. He tugs at Satoru's wrist and guides his arm down. The action has the white-haired man clamping his mouth shut. A first. He doesn’t know what possessed him to do such a thing, but it’s too late now to back down.  

For a split second, Satoru opens his eyes and Suguru encounters full force the striking blue stare that is usually hidden from the world behind the blackest shade of tint he’s ever seen.  

It’s the first time Suguru has a full view of Satoru’s eyes. He already knew they were quite striking, having caught some glimpses of the bright turquoise whenever the shades slid over Satoru’s nose. But he’s never seen them like that, up front, naked. It’s not Suguru’s proudest moment: he can feel how the breath catches in his throat. 

Satoru’s eyes might just be the most gorgeous thing Suguru has even seen. His pupils are extraordinary, so bright, so vivid, Suguru is sure even if the whole room were dark, Satoru's eyes would glow like two beacons of light in the middle of a black sea. Suguru is immediately obsessed, and he can’t seem to look away, he just keeps staring right into the bluest ocean he has ever seen.  

Satoru's almost alien eyes look a little red, probably from strain, and his white eyelashes are wet. And still, they are beautiful. He's afraid if he looks into them for even just one more second, he will sink endlessly into them. Willingly, like a sailor that has heard the lullaby of a siren promising sweet relief in the bottom of the sea and has decided to jump. It's almost eerie, nerve-wracking, to have the full attention of Satoru's impressive eyes. As if he was looking at Suguru with at least thrice the number of eyes, piercing and looking right through him, through his heart, his soul. 

Suguru rests his palm over Satoru's eyes, plunging the room into darkness again. He ignores the way his skin has broken in goosebumps and concentrates on not pressing too hard on Satoru’s eyes. He can feel the other man closing his eyes, eyelashes fluttering beneath Suguru’s palm. 

"Your hands are cold," Satoru says. Luckily, he doesn’t comment on how Suguru had frozen upon staring into his eyes. Suguru doesn’t think he could survive the humiliation. "Feels nice.” 

Suguru wants to reply but he's afraid his words will come out breathless and would betray just how much Satoru's gaze has managed to rattle him. Does it actually help, what Suguru is doing? 

What the fuck was that? What the hell is Suguru doing?

The moment couldn't be any more bizarre, and Suguru finds that he doesn't mind. He doesn't have the mental or emotional capacity at the moment to analyse why, so he just files the moment away for later inspection. It'd be better, actually, if Suguru doesn't have to revise this moment again. He does not want to know what's up with his treacherous heart that keeps stuttering and skipping just from looking Satoru in the eye. 

To keep things rolling (uncharacteristic and downright weird), Satoru timidly circles Suguru's wrist with his fingers, his large palm engulfing it almost completely. He's keeping him in place, Suguru notices. He's afraid Suguru will pull away. 

Suguru will not, though he guesses Satoru's fear isn't unfounded. Suguru hasn't been the best person around Satoru, and vice versa as well. It's like they don't know how to interact like two normal adults. Satoru doesn’t know how not to get under Suguru’s skin, and Suguru just keeps biting and biting like a damn dog that doesn’t know any better. He could ignore the man, but it’s like Satoru knows exactly what to say or what to do to break Suguru’s patience. 

Not now, though. The violent difference between the situation at hand and their usual interactions leaves Suguru almost breathless. He didn’t know he could be so…gentle with Satoru. He didn’t know Satoru could be so fragile, either. It’s a new development, unfolding completely against his will, but one he can’t stop, apparently. 

It felt wrong before, with the seemingly untouchable and unmovable Gojo Satoru, who moved through life as if the world revolved around him, as if the Earth shifted under his every step to accommodate him as comfortably as possible, stumbling and agitated. Vulnerable.  

But it no longer feels like that, with Suguru protecting Satoru from foreign eyes that can’t see this side of him. However, for some reason, it doesn’t feel wrong that Suguru is actually privy to such a rare sight of Satoru. If anything, it actually feels rig ─  

The door of the shop opens all of a sudden. 

"Nanami," Satoru whispers, even before Suguru has time to turn around and see who's coming into the shop despite the sign at the door.

Indeed, it's Satoru's friend (colleague, a voice that sounds like Nanami’s clarifies in his mind), Kento Nanami, looking pissed and concerned at the same time. Suguru wasn't aware those two emotions could coexist so perfectly on someone's face, yet Nanami is right there, walking towards them in big strides with a small plastic bag on his hand. 

"Gojo, you're so stupid I can't believe this, it's like I lose braincells whenever you're involved," the blonde man says. He must have been at work; he’s wearing the suit with the logo of the University he teaches at with Satoru. No wonder he got to the shop so fast. 

"Good to see you, too, my knight in shining armour.” 

“You better shut the fuck up before I leave.” Nanami kneels in front of Satoru, looking even more pissed than before. Suguru did not know that was even possible. 

Satoru makes a zipping motion in front of his mouth and smirks. 

"Thanks for putting up with this idiot, Geto-san." Suguru startles at being addressed, like Nanami hasn't just entered into his shop. "I'll take it from here."  

And then he's looking up at the way Suguru is covering Satoru’s eyes, eyebrows raising questioningly. As if burned, Suguru removes his arm, heart pounding wildly inside his ribcage. Embarrassment creeps upon him, colouring his neck and ears a faint red.  

“Uhm. Sure.” Suguru clears his throat and takes a step back, as if standing next to Satoru would somehow inconvenience Nanami. It’s stupid, and deep down Suguru wonders if the instinct of pulling away isn’t more for his sake than for Nanami’s. 

“Come here, you dumbass.” Nanami takes Satoru’s wrist and pulls him forward, making him bend closer to Nanami. Stupidly, Suguru wants to tell Nanami to be more careful with Satoru, goddammit, can’t he see the man isn’t feeling great? Instead of saying something so fucking embarrassing, though, he decides to bite his tongue. 

“So rough, Nanami, you know how much I like it when you’re acting li─ ” 

“If you finish that sentence, I swear to God I will fucking leave you here for Geto-san to kick your sorry ass out of the shop back into hell.” Nanami pulls some bandages out of the plastic bag he is carrying and unrolls them. “I don’t know how you have the strength to still be annoying when you look like shit. Take this and shut up.” He reaches inside his pocket with the hand that’s not holding the bandages and takes out a lollipop, unwrapping it and shoving into Satoru’s mouth almost violently. 

The white-haired man lets out a satisfied noise when encountered with the artificial cherry flavour, lips rapidly closing around the red ball of sugar. 

And suddenly, Nanami is getting closer to Satoru, his hands reaching behind Satoru’s head. Slowly, carefully, he starts bandaging Satoru’s eyes. The act looks so intimate Suguru feels sick. It feels like he shouldn’t intrude, shouldn’t witness the scene before him. He should look away, but his eyes are transfixed on the display happening before him. 

Nanami wraps the bandage around Satoru with such practice ease that Suguru wonders just how many times he’s done this before. The thought makes his stomach tighten uncomfortably. He can’t, for the life of him, figure out why he’s been having such strange reactions. 

When Satoru circles Nanami’s wrist, who’s finishing tying the bandage on the back of Satoru’s head, Suguru feels like he’s about to lose it. The action is the exact same as before, when Satoru grabbed Suguru, yet it doesn’t look natural at all. If anything, it looks misplaced. Suguru feels oddly betrayed that Nanami Kento is also privy to a vulnerable Gojo Satoru that acts this bashful, unlike his usual self. 

He feels betrayed that Satoru has shown this part of him to someone else. It’s stupid to feel this way, Suguru knows this, especially because Satoru and him are barely friends. Nanami and Satoru go way back. They work together, for fuck’s sake.

Yet, no matter how much logic Suguru is trying to apply to his ever-changing range of feelings, nothing makes sense. At least he’s capable of recognizing two major things: he doesn’t like that Gojo Satoru can get hurt, and he doesn’t like that other people can see him when he’s not at his best. And well ─ he especially doesn’t like it when he goes all pliant underneath somebody else’s touches. 

He’s aware he’s boring holes into the back of Nanami’s head but he can’t help it. It sickens him, watching the blonde man taking care of Satoru. 

“Better?” Nanami asks once he’s finished tying the bandage. He gives it a close inspection and nods to himself. 

“Why bandages, though? They didn’t have any blindfolds? People’s gonna think I had eye surgery or something. People will think my eyes aren’t natural. You know how important my image is, Nanami. Shame on you.” His right cheek is bulking out from where he’s moved the lollipop to the side in order to speak. It’s almost cute, if only a little bit disgusting as well. 

Nanami groans and hastily pulls away from Satoru’s grip. 

“You’re impossible. You should get surgery for your smooth brain. I don’t know why I even bother.” Nanami stands up, and despite all the heat in his words, he helps Satoru stand as well. “You owe me so much I don’t see how you’re actually going to repay this to me.” 

Satoru leans against Nanami, resting his head on the other man’s shoulder. Suguru guesses it can’t be that comfortable given their height difference. 

“I know exactly how I can repay you, my dear Nanami.” 

“Please, stop it,” Nanami says, a deep frown on his face. He shakes Satoru off. “You’re so disgusting, this is literally why nobody likes you.” 

“I’ll have you know there are plenty of people out there who like me, Nanami.” 

The blonde man just scowls, though Suguru can see how much he’s itching to answer back. He’s known Satoru for longer than Suguru does, so he’s certain Nanami knows the more he tries to fight back, the more Satoru likes to fan the flames. A smart choice, really, just keeping quiet. Suguru wishes he could do the same. 

“We’ll be taking our leave now, Geto-san. Again, thanks for putting up with Gojo.” Nanami bows slightly in his direction and Suguru just nods his head. “We’re sorry for disturbing you in the middle of work.” 

“It’s all good,” Suguru tries to appease him. To be honest, Nanami is making him feel a bit embarrassed. He’s also making it seem like just taking care of Satoru is a monumental task. It isn’t. For the nth time in the day, Suguru’s thoughts take him by surprise. 

“Bye, Suguru, thank you for helping me out.” Is Suguru tripping or does Satoru actually sound timid? It’s pretty disturbing.

Instead of his usual remarks, Suguru decides to be honest. 

“It’s no big deal.” For some reason, he doesn’t want to give Satoru the impression that helping him out was bothersome or anything of the sort. Quite the contrary. 

With one last bow from Nanami, both men leave the tattoo shop, leaving Suguru alone with his thoughts. 

Suguru feels emotionally drained, unexplainably. The good thing about being his own boss is that he can leave whenever the fuck he wants, and he promptly decides he has no energy left whatsoever to deal with more clients. Fortunately, his last client was the last appointment of the day. Still, there’s always spontaneous people that walk into his shop to get pierced or get small tattoos and Suguru does not feel like dealing with more people at the moment. 

Seeing Satoru so…vulnerable, seriously messed with his head. He needs to lie down and examine why. 

He falls into autopilot, cleaning his tools and tidying up the place almost robotically. He’s done this enough times to be able to go through the motions with his eyes closed, and the familiar routine puts his mind at ease. It’s almost as cathartic as smoking, probably a lot less unhealthy as well.  

Suguru knows it’s a nasty habit, but he can’t seem to drop it and it’s not like he wants to. He makes a mental note to buy a pack before heading home. He’s gonna need a whole lot of nicotine if he wants to get rid of the image of those blue eyes looking straight into his soul. 

Unfortunately, even after going through almost half a pack of cigarettes, later at night those pools of blue infinity still hunt him while Suguru tries to sleep.  

He is so fucked. 

{-} 

The tattoo shop is quiet today. Scratch that, it’s been quiet for almost two weeks now and although Suguru remembers praying for these days to come, he isn’t sure what to feel now that he got what he wanted. 

For once, he didn’t expect to feel so…annoyed. And eager. Every person that enters the shop makes Suguru turn his head, expecting to find an annoying smirk and dark, circled shades; only to be disappointed when he doesn’t. 

It irritates him to no end, to be so expectant. 

Where the fuck is that goddamn annoying physicist? Satoru hasn’t visited the shop and Suguru hates to admit it, it physically sickens him to do so, but he’s…worried. Is Satoru alright? He hasn’t heard from him at all, and unfortunately, he’s already gotten used to the tall man that comes into the shop like it’s his house and sits behind the desk to ogle Suguru’s sketches, giving advice like he isn't utterly shit at drawing. 

Suguru doesn’t do well with change, so he reasons it’s only rational to be disturbed about the lack of Satoru near him. He doesn’t even have Satoru’s number. He mentally kicks himself from deflecting every time the other man tried to ask for Suguru’s phone. 

“Hello, Nanami-san,” he suddenly hears Shoko say from the tiny reception at the entrance of the shop. Suguru stops sketching, head rapidly turning towards the door. He can’t see shit, actually, courtesy of the black curtain he uses to separate the reception from the back office. If Nanami is here maybe it means that Satoru ─  

“Ieri-san,” Nanami salutes. “Is Geto-san here?” 

“Yep,” Shoko answers. “He’s in the back sulking because that tall-ass weirdo hasn’t come lately.” 

Suguru stands up from his seat and opens the curtain, coming face to face with Nanami and Shoko. Only Nanami and Shoko. 

“Who’s sulking?” Suguru says. Unfortunately, he is incapable of being harsh to Shoko, so his answer lacks all the heat to sound angry or like he’s been wronged. “I’m not sulking.” He clarifies, looking at his friend. She just smiles innocently. With a sigh, he turns to the blonde man, trying to appear nonchalant. “Hello, Nanami. What brings you here? Finally decided to let me go to town on your back?”  

Nanami looks like he wants to be rude and Suguru smiles. He’s so transparent, no wonder Satoru likes to pick on him. 

“Geto-san,” he says, trying to sound polite. His slight scowl betrays him. “I’ve come to ask you to put me out of my misery.” He takes two long strides towards Suguru and extends his fist. “Please take this.” 

Suguru extends his hand and Nanami drops a piece of paper on his palm.  

“This is our work’s address. Gojo is too fucking embarrassed about what happened last time to come back here. So instead, he just sulks the entire day and annoys the hell out of me. There’s only so much whining I can take, so please, Geto-san, go see him before I lose it and end up in prison for homicide.” 

Suguru looks at the piece of paper, eyebrows raised. 

“I’m sorry, Nanami, but I don’t get it. Why would me going to see him change anything? If he doesn’t want to see me ─ ” 

“Oh, believe me. He does. And he doesn’t shut up about it, so please.”

The confession has Suguru’s heart picking up. He can feel his ears and neck heating up, and by the way Shoko is smiling like a shark that’s smelled blood in the water, he gathers it’s not as subtle as he would like. 

“I still don’t understand why going to see him would get him to stop sulking.” 

“Geto-san, I want so badly to respect you but you’re making it incredibly hard by acting so stupid. Gojo has a weird obsession with you and the last months have been bearable because he was finally out of my case, and I’d like to go back to that.” 

Well, Suguru was not expecting Nanami to call him stupid to his own face. He pretty much feels like that, though. 

He sighs. 

“Alright, alright. I’ll go see him.” 

The other man almost looks relieved. 

“Thanks. Good talk. Have a good day.” And just like that, Nanami is bowing to him and Shoko and leaving the shop. 

Before Shoko can comment on the conversation, Suguru looks at her. 

“Not. A. Word.” 

{-} 

It’s not hard to see Satoru; God knows that man is all kinds of loud, from the way he dresses and talks to the way he looks. He’s hard to miss, so to speak.  

The physicist is leaning over a table, half his body sprawled over a book, shades sliding down his nose, and the most bored expression on his face. He can’t be comfortable in that position. But then again, Suguru has stopped trying to find logic in everything Gojo Satoru does or says. 

One would think given how important Satoru’s position within the university is, he would have his own office. Suguru is sure he actually does have his own office, briefly remembering Satoru mentioning how dull his office looks in the passing. Of course, in a very Gojo Satoru fashion, instead of being cooped up in his own working space, he hangs around in the university’s library. Suguru can see a pile of papers next to Satoru; probably papers he needs to grade and has forgotten on behalf of his book. He still can’t believe someone with as little regard to hierarchy and rules as him is actually a professor. Satoru is really just so intriguing. 

He quietly makes his way towards the other man. 

“I don’t think the principal would appreciate you slacking off,” Suguru suddenly says, a bit nervous. He doesn’t think he’s gone so long without seeing Satoru ever since the annoying man stepped foot in his shop. Although it makes him a bit sick to admit it, he’s missed Satoru. He takes seat in front of a shellshocked Satoru who looks at him like Suguru is an apparition. 

“Suguru,” he whispers, sitting properly against his chair. The book’s been forgotten on the table. “Uhm. Hi.” It’s a first, seeing the other man almost speechless. “Missed me so much you had to come and see me?” He tries to sound confident and flirty, like his usual self, yet Suguru has become a bit of an expert on reading Satoru, and he can hear a hint of nervousness in his voice. 

“What’s with you? I thought I was your favourite person,” Suguru starts, trying to sound confident despite the way his hands are sweating. “It’s like you’ve been avoiding me on purpose.” 

“I’ve been very busy,” Satoru replies almost immediately, adjusting his shades on his face. Suguru can’t really see his eyes like this, but he’s almost sure the physicist is looking everywhere but at him. “I’m a very busy person, you know. Very solicited.” 

“So this has nothing to do with what happened two weeks ago, right?”  

Satoru is starting to look annoyed at Suguru’s prodding, and he couldn’t feel any smugger. It’s not always that he has the upper hand. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  

Suguru just hums, not taking his eyes off of Satoru. He can’t believe he thought the physicist was mysterious when really, it’s like watching through brand new polished glass; Satoru wears his heart on his sleeve and it’s so easy for Suguru now to name every emotion on his face.  

“So, you’re not embarrassed that I saw you at your weakest?” For some reason, Suguru’s heart clenches. He doesn’t want Satoru to think Suguru would ever make fun of him for something he can’t control. If anything, he really hopes the other man knows he can count on him. “Thought I would make fun of you?” Suddenly, he’s angry. At himself. 

He’s really trying not to let it bleed into his tone but the more he thinks about it, the more his blood boils. Does Satoru have such a low opinion of him? God, has Suguru really acted like a prick around the other man? It’s his fault. Oh God, it’s his fault. He can’t really remember a time in which he didn’t act like an asshole. He knows Satoru behaves the same way, and still Suguru could tell it was a facade more than anything. He knows there’s much more to the borderline narcissist, world-renowned physicist that he lets on.  

Now he’s getting angsty. Suguru cannot believe the whiplash his own emotions are giving him; he’s always had such fantastic control over his own feelings.  

“Of course not,” Satoru answers decisively, crossing his arms in front of his body. He sounds offended. “I know you’re not a jerk. You just like to act like one.”

Oh.

Okay. 

So then…? 

He can see the debate going on in Satoru’s head, can almost hear the cogs in his mind turning. He waits. He’s noticed Satoru sometimes needs a little extra time to gather his thoughts and express himself properly. If rushed, he ends up just saying things he doesn’t mean.  

“Okay, you’re right. I was avoiding you.” Suguru tries to suppress the smile threatening to split on his face. “But not for the reasons you probably think,” he rushes to add. “It’s just─ ” 

A big sigh. 

“You don’t think my eyes are…freaky. Right?” 

What?  

“What do you mean, freaky?” Suguru is completely lost. Of all the things Satoru could’ve said, this one didn’t even make it to the list of possible reasons why Satoru was avoiding him. 

“You know, freaky,” the white-haired man repeats, looking at the table. “Weird. Demon-like?” 

“Satoru, what the hell are you talking about?” 

The other man finally looks at Suguru, clearly surprised by the tone of disbelief in his voice. 

“Why would I think that?” If anything, Suguru would say Satoru has the eyes of a God, not a demon. A deity meant to be worshipped, not a monster to be feared.  

“‘Cause you know, they aren’t very… Japanese-like. They look different from the rest. Way too different.” 

Suguru studies the man in front of him. He's being honest like he's never been; after all, Satoru was always gloating about his gorgeous eyes. Clearly, there's more to it under all the false gloating. 

He wonders if in the past Satoru’s received hate because of how different he looks from the rest. Suguru can see it now: his height, his hair, his eyes. Japanese folk talk about myths of blue eye demons, born in the heart of winter, with hair as white as snow and imposingly tall. The creatures in the myths were women, though, and Satoru is very much a man. Yuki-onna. He acknowledges Satoru does look straight out of a fantasy tale. He reckons people might have thought it was a horror tale Satoru came out of, opposed to Suguru's impression. 

“And so what if they do? It's not a bad thing. What, you're gonna tell me famous physicist Gojo Satoru cares about what people say?”

It seems it's the right thing to say because now Satoru looks affronted. 

“I don't! I don't care what people think about me. I know I'm great.”

Suguru smiles. 

“But I do care about what you think, though.” Satoru rests his face on his palm, staring right at Suguru. Even with the shades on, Suguru feels like he can see the mesmerising blue of Satoru's eyes. 

A pleasant shiver runs down his spine at the confession.  

“I don't think you want to hear what I think about you,” he answers, trying to lighten the mood. It seems to work; Satoru rolls his eyes and sags against the chair. 

“You say that, but I know you at least tolerate me.” Once again, there's that hint of nervousness in his voice, although he’s trying to downplay it.  

“Unfortunately.” Suguru decides to be honest. He can see that for some reason, Satoru isn't acting as always. A little reassurance won't hurt, he decides. 

Satoru smiles, and it's one of those rare, honest smiles he doesn't wear often. It suits him.  

“Satoru, is this about me actually seeing your eyes? I thought you were proud of them. There's nothing wrong with them and before you ask again, no, I don't think they're weird.” He refrains from adding that he actually finds them absolutely stunning. Satoru definitely does not need his ego fed even more. 

The other man looks a bit taken aback, and Suguru can see the faintest of blushes on his pale cheeks. It seems Satoru is showing a whole new palette of emotions and reactions and Suguru can’t say he hates it. Quite the opposite; it feels like he's unrevealing a hidden part of Satoru, unique pieces that make up the eccentric genius that nobody has been privy of. 

“I am,” Satoru says. “Proud of them. It's just ─ I've always been deemed a prodigy, always been told I was different, better even. My mom used to say my eyes were beautiful, that my hair was beautiful, but it didn't feel like that when people would point out how different I looked growing up. How I didn’t look like I belonged with them. They couldn’t see past the way I looked, I guess. I learned not to mind and to be honest I don’t.” 

Suguru can see he means it; Satoru really does not give a shit about anybody’s opinion, and he’s made that clear plenty of times. He guesses it comes with the territory of knowing you’re way above everyone else, so high up that even if people looked up, stretching their necks until it hurt, they would only see an indiscernible dot in the sky. 

Satoru is a genius; one of a kind, a talent with a brain so advanced it doesn’t matter how he acts, the world will turn a blind eye to his bad manners and extreme cockiness to make way for him. Gojo Satoru could change the laws of physics as currently known. He’s allowed to behave the way he does.

And yet, here he is, a God among humans, admitting he cares about Suguru’s opinion. It gives him a rush of adrenaline to wield such power. It scares him a little, too. 

“Do you think me so shallow that I would care about that?” There’s no reproach in Suguru’s voice, just genuine curiosity. 

Satoru bites the inside of his cheek and rolls his eyes. The sight, so childish, makes Suguru smile. 

“No,” he concedes. “If anything, you’re not the type to judge. Or at least you shouldn’t! With all those tattoos and piercings. You look like a delinquent, Suguru. But I know you’re actually a big softie.” 

Suguru snorts. 

“And yet you tried to hide from me.” 

This, he understands. Insecurities are hard to let go, Suguru would know. What he doesn’t understand is that if Satoru knows Suguru would be the last person to judge someone based on their appearance, what was he so afraid of?

One look at Satoru’s face is enough for him to realise that the physicist doesn't really want to answer. It’s like he can see the cogs turning at an alarming speed in Satoru’s brain.  

“I don’t know,” he finally manages to say. “Ugh, I don’t know, I’m confused. Don’t try to understand it, I barely understand myself. I’m a genius, Suguru, don’t you know? Geniuses are incomprehensible. We make no sense for the rest of the below average population, you know?” 

“Wow,” Suguru says, unimpressed. “Glad to know you think I’m below average.” 

“Not you, idiot. You could never. You’re different from everyone, Suguru. You…get me.” 

You don’t judge me.  

Suguru does not. Sure, Satoru is the most self-centred, arrogant, and cockiest person he’s ever met. He’s unapologetic and rude and brutally honest. But he’s also funny and naive to a fault, and beyond that eccentric genius label that seems stuck with superglue to his forehead, Suguru can see Satoru is a good person. Different, sure, but not bad. His heart is in the right place.  

“Wow, to be acknowledged by the great Gojo Satoru. What an honour.” 

Satoru groans. 

“Shut up, I’m serious.” He looks like a petulant little child, biting the inside of his cheek and glaring down at the table. Suguru knows he should find such behaviour unbecoming from someone his age, but it seems that Suguru is clearly bad in the head because he thinks Satoru looks almost cute sulking like that. Almost. “I hate saying this, and I won't say it a second time, but it's been…quiet without you. So stop being all angsty and shit.” 

And come back.  

Almost immediately, Satoru drops his childish posture and sits properly.

“My, my, Suguru, are you saying that you missed me?” Satoru's shades slide down his nose again, gifting Suguru an unrestricted view of that ocean that makes people recoil, afraid to get caught by the unpredictable nature of the seemingly calm waves rippling in his iris.  

Let them back away, Suguru thinks. I can brave it.  

“Yeah, I am.” The answer wipes Satoru's smug expression off his face and Suguru takes pride in that. After all, leaving Gojo Satoru speechless is quite a feat. Suguru is slowly learning he actually has a natural talent for that. 

“Ahhhh, Suguru, see? You do like me!” Satoru recovers fast but the apple of his cheeks has reddened considerably. “But that's perfect because I've missed you, too.” 

The small admission has Suguru's neck heating up. 

“Well, I guess I’ll drop by when I have time, since you clearly like me so much. After all, I can’t deny my dearest fan’s request.” 

Suguru rests his elbow on the table, and with his face on his hand, studies the man in front of him. Satoru has the widest smile on his face, teeth coming into view. His white eyelashes glint under the library's lights, and his blue eyes seem to glow. He does look quite otherworldly, Suguru admits. 

“And you can’t take back what you said, okay? You can’t shoosh me away now. You’re not allowed to regret this!” 

Satoru’s so obvious to Suguru, his eagerness and the need for reassurance underneath all that cockiness as easy to read as a 1st grade book. Suguru would like it if Satoru were more upfront about what he actually wants to say. He wants to reassure Satoru he can always be honest with Suguru, that he can confide in him, open his heart and bare it naked for Suguru to see it because he would never, ever, judge him. Suguru knows Satoru’s heart, and he thinks it’s a beautiful thing. 

“I don’t think I will,” is what he says instead. 

{–}

They are friends now. 

Best friends, according to Satoru. Suguru doesn't mind, and he can admit it's somehow true.

He can admit nobody has ever understood Suguru the way Satoru does or keep up with his humour. Satoru reads through his calm demeanour and calls Suguru on his bullshit. It's new and exciting and definitely comforting, to have someone truly see you and stay by your side despite all the ifs. Of course, Shoko is still one of his closest friends, but unfortunately, she does not put up with Suguru’s sarcasm, and she does not laugh at his jokes. And mind you, Suguru is hilarious. Even Satoru thinks so, too. 

If the Satoru in the past acted all cocky and entitled, it's an absolute nightmare now to have him over. Shoko says it's Suguru's fault for coddling him so much. 

Begrudgingly, he can admit he's taken to spoiling and humouring Satoru more than what's healthy. He lets him do as he pleases around the shop and has a small basket of candy in the back office for Satoru.  

He can't help it; seeing Satoru all happy annoying everyone around him is actually quite funny. It’s especially funny seeing him get under rude clients’ skin; he has a talent for that. And Suguru is guilty of letting it happen, he does not mind losing a potential dick client; he gets to witness Satoru unleashing his full gremlin self.

Suguru knows Satoru was a lonely person: too eccentric beyond his genius brain for people to look past it and acknowledge there was more to him than what they could ever imagine. Perhaps Suguru was too, in his own way. He's always had acquaintances that he gets on with just fine, but he can't recall having a bond with someone else the way he does with Satoru before. Shoko feels more like a sister, having grown up together. His bond with Satoru doesn’t feel exactly brotherly. 

It's new and refreshing. 

There's something underlying behind all of it as well, something Suguru is sometimes too scared to prod at. To have such a person like Satoru, almost a deity in the eyes of the world, hanging onto his every word is…something else. It scares him a little, he wouldn't like to say something wrong and have Satoru go along with it just because he said it. So he tries to be better, too.

Satoru had confessed that when he had started showing signs of his genius, his parents made sure to just make him focus on his studies, in everything regarding hard sciences mostly, and they discarded everything they thought wouldn’t help nurture his natural talent for numbers and abstract equations. Social sciences were a big no. He didn’t have the opportunity to grow up with other children, having always been home schooled. He didn’t have the opportunity to interact with anyone who wasn’t an adult trying to teach him something, and Satoru recognized his lack of sense for common things and general distinction between appropriate and inappropriate had been the aftermath of all that.  

Growing up, he had realized how had fucked that had been, and had decided to become a teacher to privileged minds like his to help nurture healthier, better, future generations that wouldn’t be so clueless about the world in an effort to just absorb information. 

Suguru thinks Satoru is actually quite noble, even if all that pent up frustration against the way he was raised had translated into a cocky, know-it-all attitude that was almost impossible to digest. Satoru knew he had a bad personality, and he didn’t care. He always claimed he was a by-product of everything he had absorbed and then of everything he had rejected. 

Somehow, they make it work. A well-oil machine that runs seamlessly. And Suguru would be lying if he didn’t say it was surprising how everything just clicked into place with Satoru once given a chance to grow closer. 

Everything is alright, everything is perfect, with Satoru coming after work to chill in the back office to work on…whatever it is that Satoru does while Suguru tattoos or works on new designs. It's a nice routine, and Satoru manages to disrupt their everyday mundane by dragging Suguru around to try new cafes and restaurants. 

It's good, Satoru has even learned to behave a bit and be less cocky.  

It doesn't last long. 

The first time Satoru meets Haibara, the young boy was sitting next to Suguru while he was working on a tattoo. He was talking his new apprentice through the motions of preparing the needle when Satoru barges into the shop.  

Haibara startles, Suguru does not.  

“Suguru! Let's go to the movies ─who's this?” 

Suguru sighs, already recognizing the tone in Satoru's words.  

“This is Haibara.” 

“Hello! I'm Haibara Yu, nice to meet you. You must be Gojo Satoru! Geto-san told me about you.”  

Satoru does not look impressed. 

“He's my new colleague, but we'll talk later, Satoru. I'm working right now, alright?”Satoru bites the inside of his cheek, the way he does when he's annoyed, and nods curtly before taking a seat on his usual chair. Suguru sighs internally. Satoru didn't go to the back office like he always does when Suguru is working. 

If there's one thing Suguru has learned about Satoru that escapes his understanding is the fact that he absolutely hates it when he's not the centre of Suguru's attention. Suguru has tried to see the logic behind such behaviour and all he can say is that given that Suguru is the first person to have such a tight bond with him, he doesn't take it lightly to others trying to get in between them.

Suguru guiltily admits he's partly to blame, given how he spoils the other rotten. He knew it would come to bite him in the ass sooner than later. 

He goes back to teaching Haibara how to prepare the tools, all the while feeling Satoru's eyes on his back like a hawk. It was going to be a long session. 

- 

Once the client had been explained how to take care of the tattoo, with a diligent Haibara next to him taking down notes, and had left, Satoru didn't waste a single second to get up from his seat. 

“Satoru,” he started, trying to do some damage control from the beginning. 

“Your name was Haibara Yu, right?” He addresses Suguru’s new apprentices, pointing with his chin to him, completely ignoring Suguru.  

Haibara smiles widely, happy to have his name remembered. 

“Indeed! It's such a pleasure to meet Geto-san's best friend.” 

It's the right thing to say, because Satoru looks a bit taken aback. Suguru understands him a bit, Haibara is just so nice and positive and honest in his eagerness, he didn't know what to do at first.  

The fight seems to have dropped from Satoru's eyes now that the friendship hierarchy has been established between them. Perhaps this could go smoother than anticipated.  

“That's right, you should be pleased. You know who I am? Do you know just who Suguru is hanging out with?”  

Well, Suguru knew it was wishful thinking. 

“Satoru, drop it,” he says, without much heat. He wonders where all the heat he used to have to talk to the other man went to. Now, it’s like his tongue forgot how to be harsh. 

Haibara smiles, clearly unaware that Satoru is being a little bitch to him. 

“I do! You're that young physicist that worked with NASA, right? That's so impressive, you were all over the news! Everyone says you’re also a strong contender for a Nobel prize, that's amazing! Geto-san's friends are just as impressive as him.” 

Suguru stifles a laugh at seeing Satoru so flabbergasted. It’s a good look on him: eyes open wide enough for his glasses to slide down his nose, mouth round in a silent oh. Of course Haibara knows who Satoru is, the first thing Suguru did when he decided to accept the young boy under his tutelage was to inform him about the one weird guy that liked to hang around the shop like he was the owner, and that he was probably going to see as often as Suguru.

To be fair, Suguru didn’t even have to introduce Satoru, Haibara seemed to know exactly who Satoru was when he mentioned his name. It was those kinds of moments that reminded Suguru who exactly Gojo Satoru was: young prodigy and national treasure, the country’s beloved possible runner for a Nobel prize. It embarrassed Suguru a little to think he didn’t even know who the fuck Satoru was when he first came into his shop. 

Even now, it’s hard to connect the image of an almighty Satoru that has the entire scientific sphere under his feet to the currently pouting idiot who grabs at Suguru’s elbow like a little kid who is afraid his favourite toy might get stolen. 

“Damn right.” Satoru clears his throat and sticks a little closer to Suguru. “I’m glad you’re aware.” 

“Satoru, remember I told you I was thinking about hiring someone with a different style from me? Haibara might look young but he’s quite good. He’ll be working with me from now on.”

He can imagine Satoru didn’t think the tattoo artist would find someone quite so soon. 

“So play nice, alright? He’s part of the team now.” 

Suguru knows Satoru has a tough time adjusting to new people, it was honestly a blessing to see how easily he had befriended Shoko in the first place. He knew miracles didn’t really happen twice. 

“I’m so glad Geto-san accepted me! He’s quite famous among tattoo artists, his style is so unique, it’s easily the most recognizable nowadays. I hope I can learn a lot from him.”  

“Glad to know you understand you’re extremely lucky to be working with Suguru, Haibara.”  

“Stop it, Satoru.” Again, he knows his statement lacks the heat to make Satoru listen. Unfortunately, Suguru realises he’s becoming really bad at keeping the other in check. “Didn’t you mention it was exam season? Did you bring the midterms to correct? Go finish that in the back, I bought you some snacks. They’re on the table.” 

Satoru frowns at him. 

“What did you buy?” 

“Cherry soda, fruit gummies, lollipops, and that grape candy you like.” 

Satoru beams. Strangely, it makes Suguru’s heart race. 

“Nobody knows me like you do, Suguru.” He’s back to using that annoying, whiny voice Satoru thinks is cute. It’s not, for the record. Well, maybe just a little bit.  

The words warm his stomach: it starts like a small flame in the pit of his stomach that slowly spreads through his veins, all the way to the tip of his fingers. Somehow, knowing there’s absolutely nobody out there that has Satoru figured out to a T like Suguru does fills him with a sense of pride that’s hard to ignore. It swells his chest and makes his mouth smile.

“Yeah, yeah, go be a responsible adult for once.” Suguru tries to appear nonchalant, tries not to show how badly Satoru’s words affect him. “I’ll let you know when it’s time to close.” 

Satoru disappears in the back office after sending a smile Suguru’s way and a little unimpressed look to Haibara. 

Suguru clears his throat and turns to his new apprentice? Co-worker? Haibara already knows how to tattoo, one of the reasons Suguru took him in, yet the other man insists on saying he has a lot to learn. 

“Sorry about him,” he says, gesturing towards where Satoru has disappeared. “He can be a bit…too much, but he’s not bad, I promise.” Just really fucking entitled and cocky.  

“Don't worry, Geto-san!” Haibara reassures in all his sunny disposition. Honestly, Suguru wouldn’t bat an eyelash if sunlight suddenly came shining out of his ass at this point. “Gojo-san is cuter than expected. It’s obvious he cares about you.” 

Cute, uh? 

He guesses Satoru can be cute sometimes. 

“And it’s obvious you care about him, too.” 

“Unfortunately,” Suguru concedes. It’s a bit embarrassing to talk about Satoru and his relationship, not because he’s ashamed of being Satoru’s friend or anything of the sort. 

It feels so…intimate. Suguru can’t recall having such a unique bond with anyone else before, not even previous partners, he guiltily admits. Was he supposed to be this emotionally close to them? No wonder all of them broke up with him and called him distant. What he has with Satoru now is special, he recognizes. He guesses not everyone gets to experience this level of closeness with somebody, thus he feels a bit zealous about it and doesn’t want to talk too much about it. It feels too close for comfort. 

“Don’t mind him too much. He’s a bit of a brat but he isn’t so bad,” he tries to reassure Haibara. “He’ll come around.” 

His new colleague just sends him an encouraging smile. 

-

Satoru doesn’t really come around. 

He has come to accept, grudgingly, that he will have to share Suguru’s time with Haibara. Of course, the fact that he has accepted it doesn’t mean he’s okay with it, doesn’t mean he won’t whine and protest until Suguru leaves Haibara’s side to give Satoru a bit of attention.

It should be exhausting to constantly deal with someone as demanding as Satoru, but Suguru really doesn't mind. He has a talent for this, he has discovered. He’s patient and isn’t easily discouraged. Satoru does like to test his limits, though. Almost like another of his experiments: prodding at Suguru’s seemingly endless bottom of patience to see if it is as endless as it looks. 

It’s become a test for Suguru himself as well, to see how far the other man can stretch him until he snaps. It quickly became obvious that it would take a lot for him to break, and Satoru takes advantage of that at every opportunity he has. 

He’s not sure when it happened, but Suguru has started to find Satoru’s clingy and annoying ass rather…endearing. That’s already bad on its own, but the other serious downside to this new development is that Suguru has been finding it harder and harder to refuse Satoru’s demands.  

Like now. For a change, Suguru is currently with Satoru in his office at the university. Everything is just so…posh and elegant, the tattoo artist has no idea why the white-haired man likes hanging around Suguru’s rather small shop instead. Satoru’s office is massive, with huge boards littered in numbers and letters and symbols that he didn’t even try to read. There’s a tucked-in library in one of the walls, full of books and other trinkets the physicist probably collected from travelling abroad. 

The seats are incredibly comfortable, with tall backs and huge armrests as well. The desk in the middle of the room wouldn’t probably even fit inside Suguru’s shop. The only thing that seems out of place is how dark everything is. There are windows in every single wall of the room, yet there are huge blackout curtains covering every inch of glass. It makes sense, given Satoru’s condition. It seems like a lonely place, despite how beautiful it is. It’s certainly way too big for just one person and he guesses Satoru doesn’t really like being alone for extended periods of time. 

Since Satoru had a lot of catching up to do and refused to bring so much weight with him to the tattoo shop, he had bugged Suguru to go make him company at his own office. A first. It was the middle of the week as well, so that meant that Suguru had to move all his appointments so he could close the shop for the day. 

The most painful part of everything was telling Shoko about it. The piercer smirked at him.  

“Does this have to do with Satoru?”  

“Maybe.”  

“Go figure. You two are fucking exhausting.”  

“What do you mean?”  

“Nothing, Suguru. Just go baby your high maintenance twink and say hi to him for me.”

“He’s not─”  

"Bye, Suguru.”  

That had been awkward and absolutely uncalled for. Whatever. Satoru made so much time to hang out with him, he thought it’d be nice to do the same for the white-haired man at least once. Sue him.  

He had brought his tablet to start on some of his client’s designs, as a way to kill time. Yet, Haibara had sent him a couple of designs for him to review, so he had put his own designs aside to focus on those. 

He was so busy writing small tips on top of Haibara’s design, Satoru’s voice almost made him drop his tablet.  

“I prefer the way you tattoo, Suguru. Your art style is so much more refined. No wonder you’re so popular,” Satoru says while peeking at the younger tattoo artist’s design from over Suguru’s shoulder. 

“Jesus, Satoru, I told you not to do that.” Suguru leaves the tablet on the table aware his alone time was over the moment Satoru decided he was bored of his own work. “Also, don’t be like that. Haibara is really good, I guess you’re just used to my style.” 

“Nah, you’re way better, Suguru.” Satoru has decided to take the seat beside the other man, abandoning his place across the table. “Like, brag a little, okay? I did some research on you, you know?” He wiggles his eyebrows, and Suguru laughs. The expression looks stupid with the shades on. 

“Talk about stalking.” 

“Guilty! It just called my attention that you were always booked and busy and I asked Shoko if that was normal. She said not really, and that it was like that because a lot of people wanted your style on their skin, and they didn’t care about waiting until they finally could make an appointment with you. I may not know a lot about tattoos, but I can definitely tell you’re amazing, Suguru. Exceptionally talented. No wonder everyone wants you.” 

Suguru isn’t one to flush easily, but Satoru’s words are certainly making his skin heat up. He was always so honest and bold with his compliments, and Suguru isn’t the best at accepting them. 

“That’s actually genuinely nice of you, Satoru. Thanks.” 

The physicist smiled, clearly satisfied with Suguru’s bashful reaction. 

“If I ever get a tattoo, of course it would have to be you,” he adds. “I don’t trust anyone else.” 

It’s a simple statement. One that makes sense given Satoru’s picky and distrustful nature. And yet, it makes Suguru’s stomach drop, adrenaline rushing in. His heart picks up inside his ribcage, and he can feel how it wants out ─the confines of his chest are way too restricted for the way the muscle wants to jump around.

He schools his expression into something neutral, trying to seem nonchalant about Satoru’s statement. Would the physicist actually bestow on him such an honour? To mark Satoru’s unblemished skin with his art? To prickle this generation’s genius with his needles? 

“I thought you didn’t want a tattoo,” Suguru manages to say amidst the raging storm within him. Just the thought of Satoru willingly letting go of his fear of needles to allow Suguru to mark him makes his head spin for reasons he can’t bring himself to think too deeply about. 

“Not now, but I don’t know. I guess you changed my opinion.” Satoru lets his eyes travel down the expanse of Suguru’s arms and the visible part of his collarbone through the sleeveless shirt he is wearing, skin inked with different masterpieces.

Is Satoru…checking him out? 

When Suguru raises an eyebrow at him, he just clears his throat and looks the other way, a high blush adorning his cheeks. 

“I mean. It looks pretty badass. Though I think I would like mine somewhere people wouldn’t be able to see so easily. Something more personal, I guess?” 

“Right,” Suguru says, mouth suddenly dried. “What would you like to get tattooed?” 

“I’d probably ask you to come up with something.” 

Suguru’s mind reels; he’s suddenly imagining all the different possibilities he could sketch for Satoru. Something related to his work, maybe? Something that would definitely have his eyes, at least. 

“You can’t let anyone else tattoo you, alright?” He declares. Now that a new door has opened in front of him, he can’t let anyone else get to it first. “If you ever want a tattoo, it has to be me, okay? Only me.” 

Satoru looks back at him, shades slowly sliding down his nose to reveal a pure shade of shock in his blue eyes. He’s blushing, too, and Suguru finds it so incredibly endearing it makes him have very unusual thoughts. Dangerous thoughts. Like reaching out to cup his face in his hands, to bring him closer so he can have a better look at the reddening skin of his cheeks. 

“S-sure. That’s why I said it first, Suguru. Were you not listening? It would only be you.” 

The tattoo artist nods and smiles, a sizzling ball of satisfaction brewing within him that warms him up all the way down to his toes. 

Only him, for Satoru, it would only be him. 

{-}

Suguru is ordering more materials for Shoko, a task the actual piercer should do given she knows best what she needs (but that has forgone in order to sleep in), when he hears the door of the shop opening. 

“Welcome, be there in a minute!” He yells from the back office, confirming the purchase on his computer before standing up to greet the client. 

There is no client in sight when Suguru emerges from the back office. It’s Satoru, looking very much like that version of him Suguru saw all those months ago when the physicist had forgotten his glasses. His hand is grabbing for dear life to the frame of the door.

“Satoru?” Suguru asks, immediately worried. He rushes to the other man and gently grabs him by the elbow to guide him to sit on one of the chairs. 

“Good to know I got it right and didn’t stumble on some random shop,” Satoru says, arm thrown across his face. “I have a pretty good memory, right?” 

“What happened? Where are your glasses?” Suguru ignores Satoru’s attempts at nonchalance, uneasiness gripping at his heart. He quickly scans Satoru’s face and body, trying to see if there are any visible injuries on him. To his relief, there’s nothing on him; Satoru looks paler and sweatier than usual, but Suguru knows that’s just his hypersensitivity kicking in. 

“Left them at work, didn’t realise I forgot to put them in my bag until I got down from the train. They’re probably on my desk.” 

“Fuck, Satoru, are you still trying to see how much you can go without your glasses before your photophobia starts acting up? I told you to fucking stop that, you dumbass.” 

Satoru tries to smile through the obvious migraine currently pounding his skull. 

“To be fair I did pretty well. Managed to withstand the entire ride on the train. I really think I’m getting better at this.” 

“I think you’re just fucking stupid,” Suguru rebuts, growing angstier by the second. He absolutely hates seeing Satoru like this. Hates it especially when Satoru tries to act all aloof when he clearly looks in pain. Suguru fucking loathes that Satoru tries to masquerade his state in front of him. 

“Takes one to know one,” Satoru says, his voice the slightest bit strained. “Thought it’d be easier to make my way here and call Nanami to bring me the glasses rather than ride the train back to uni. I mean, I was on my way to coming here, anyway.” 

Well, at least Suguru can recognize that not all of Satoru’s brain cells were dead.  

“And if he already left, he could at least come pick me up.”

Suguru’s breath hitches. He doesn’t like that. Oh boy, he absolutely does not like that.

“I know you have work and I know I’m always annoying, but I’m particularly difficult to deal with when I’m like this. I know even you have a limit. Sorry, Suguru. It shouldn’t take long. Do you have any clients today?” 

He does. But he couldn’t care less. Also, what does Satoru mean with that fucking annoying line: ‘I know even you have a limit’? Is Satoru implying that Suguru can’t handle him? Because that’s bullshit. Suguru’s well of patience isn’t limitless, though it might as well be when it comes to Satoru. Everyone and their mothers know this. For fuck’s sake, even Satoru should know that, of all people. 

Suguru is so lost in own head he almost doesn’t notice Satoru reaching into his pocket for his cell phone; Suguru feels he’s having a déjà vu. Before he can even think about it, Suguru grasps Satoru’s wrist. 

“Don’t,” he says, firmly. It’s a miracle his voice sounds steady given how his heart is beating like it wants to leave his ribcage. 

He hears Satoru’s sharp intake of breath. 

“Don’t call Nanami.”  

Suguru swallows the nervousness clawing at his throat. Slowly, he releases Satoru’s wrists, as if afraid the other man wouldn’t listen to him and would still fall back to his default joker card. Satoru does not. He simply nods, and his arm goes limp.  

“I can take care of you.” He states. A fact. Irrefutable. “You’re always annoying,” he concedes. “But that’s not a problem for me. You’re never going to be too much. So don’t talk like that about you. It doesn’t suit you.” 

Suguru can see Satoru’s chest rising and falling almost in slow motion. It feels like an eternity before he speaks again. 

“Okay,” he simply says. 

Suguru stays by Satoru’s side for another moment, not really knowing what to do now that Satoru has actually given him permission to help him. His heart is still beating faster than normal, and it’s a blessing Satoru’s eyes are close, lest he sees just how badly Suguru’s ears are burning. Fuck, that came out a bit more embarrassing than intended. Whatever. 

“Stay here,” he instructs. Suguru has a couple of bandages he keeps in the back office from when he pulled a muscle, so he quickly goes through all the drawers until he finds them. They’re practically new, Suguru had barely used them, much to his doctor's chagrin. Quickly, he also takes one of the many lollipops he keeps for Satoru. 

When he goes back to Satoru, the man has removed his face from across his face. He still looks worse for wear but at least he’s stopped sweating.

“Take this,” Suguru says, an unwrapped lollipop resting against Satoru’s lips. Almost immediately, Satoru complies, opening wide enough to engulf the little candy ball. He makes a pleased sound and Suguru smiles. Satoru could be such a child sometimes. 

“Come here, sit properly so I can bandage your eyes.” Carefully, he guides Satoru into a proper sitting position, making sure to take it slowly lest he worsens Satoru’s discomfort. Like a rag doll, Satoru lets himself be manhandled by Suguru. 

It’s still so weird, seeing Satoru so pliant. This time around, Suguru doesn’t have to witness such a fragile Satoru from the sidelines, it’s his hands that are making sure to take care of him. It’s his hands that unroll the bandages and push Satoru’s soft, fluffy hair out of the way so he can wrap the piece of clothing behind his head and around his eyes. 

Satoru’s eyes stay closed the entire time and Suguru is both relieved and disappointed. He’s glad Satoru can’t see the blush on his cheeks or the way his hands seem to be trembling; but at the same time, he misses Satoru’s eyes. He wants to see them, more than anything, bare naked for him. He wants to see himself reflected in the bluest of shades, like a cloudless sky after a storm. Warm and radiant, almost as comforting as the sunlight. 

For once, Satoru is absolutely quiet. He doesn’t pipe in with any smartass comments, doesn’t say shit about how Suguru is taking his sweet time making sure the bandages are properly wrapped, not too tight nor too loose. He doesn’t even mention the way Suguru brushes his hair back even when he’s done wrapping his eyes, doesn’t ask him to stop when Suguru keeps going, timidly massaging the back of his head, trying to will the migraine away. 

His breath has become a bit shallower, but other than that, nothing in Satoru seems to indicate he doesn’t like the way Suguru is touching him. And it’s such a privilege, Suguru doesn’t really think Satoru understands just what it does to him to be able to touch the physicist so freely. How Satoru doesn’t really like being touched, shies away from it, yet lets Suguru put his hands on him, no questions asked. 

“Thank you, Suguru,” Satoru whispers. “You always take such good care of me.” 

“Of course,” Suguru agrees. Because it’s true. He really does. And he wouldn’t want it any other way. He doesn’t want anyone else to witness this docile Satoru, doesn’t want any other hands other than his own to touch Satoru. Doesn’t want anyone else taking care of Satoru, because he’s sure nobody out there will be able to do it as perfectly as Suguru does. 

Nobody knows Satoru like Suguru does. And Suguru does not want anyone to get on his level. He won’t let them. Suguru has come to the painful realisation that he likes the man sitting in front of him. Weird as it was, improbable as it sounded, Geto Suguru decided it was Gojo Satoru he wanted.  

It’s Satoru’s smile that makes Suguru’s heart race. It’s Satoru’s voice that has Suguru’s skin breaking in goosebumps. It's Satoru's eyes that make the air in Suguru’s lungs disappear. 

It is Satoru that Suguru chose to cherish above everyone else.

With his fingers still trading through white locks, he realises he wouldn’t mind doing this for the rest of his life.

  {-} 

If Suguru had known that accepting Haibara’s innocent outing to the cinema would end up with an almost one-sided cold war between him and Satoru, he would’ve definitely declined the invitation. 

It started a little like this:

Four months into his new job, Haibara had invited Shoko and Suguru to the movies as a way of saying ‘thank you’ for taking care of him and helping him settle on his new role. They both had accepted, there was no way someone was actually able to say no to Haibara. He was just so earnest and genuine, it certainly lit up the tattoo shop a little. 

The problem began when Suguru realised the movie Haibara had bought tickets to; it was that movie that Satoru had said he wanted to watch with Suguru a couple of weeks ago. Of course, he had promised the other man they would watch it together once it was released in cinemas. 

God, Suguru knew Satoru was going to throw a tantrum if he discovered he had gone and watched it without him. On the other hand, Haibara had already bought the tickets. What was he going to say? Sorry, I can’t come, Haibara. My emotionally constipated best friend won’t like it if I go to the cinema without him. Especially if I’m going with you. No freaking way. 

Plus, he had already accepted. 

Suguru hates lying to Satoru, but this time around he gaslights himself into believing it’s for a greater good. He’ll just go with Haibara and Shoko to watch the movie and then go again with Satoru. He doesn’t think it’ll be too hard to pretend he’s never watched it, especially because Satoru always gets incredibly engrossed in movies and tends to ignore everything around him. 

Now, the tricky thing will be telling the other man about his outing with Haibara and Shoko. He can’t even say it’s a work-only related outing given that Satoru is always there when they go out for drinks although he doesn’t even drink. He even joins Shoko and Suguru when they go out of the shop for a quick smoke, even if he absolutely hates the smell of smoke. (Suguru has started to smoke less and less, and he begrudgingly admits it’s because of Satoru.) 

To put it short, Suguru doesn’t go anywhere without Satoru. Kind of. Shoko calls it co-dependency; he likes to call it being close friends. 

So, since he can’t just casually mention he’ll be going out with Shoko and Haibara without Satoru trying to tag along, he asks Nanami to cover for him. He sends him a quick text, explaining the situation, and the younger man agrees only when Suguru brings up a nice discount for his next tattoo. Nanami will have Satoru sit with him on Thursday night, night of the movie, to help him prepare the material for his lessons and correct some assignments. 

It’s a simple and foolproof plan. Suguru will even pick Satoru up from work once he’s done with the movie just to appear less suspicious. 

When Nanami questions him about the lengths he’s willing to go not to upset Satoru, the tattoo artist just shrugs him off. He can’t really tell the blonde man Suguru would rather shoot himself on the foot than make Satoru upset. He can’t tell him he’s willing to do anything for the physicist, that he knows him so well, so deeply, he knows this is the only way because he’s spoiled Satoru rotten with his attention and the other man won’t accept a simple and sensible explanation about why Suguru is not going to the movies with him. 

He’s partly to blame but Suguru doesn’t mind too much; he does not regret any of the moments he’s given into Satoru’s whims because he always looks so smug and happy about monopolising Suguru’s attention, it makes his heart race and his tongue heavy with all the unsaid words he’s aching to blurt out. Suguru had always had a sort of nurturing personality, despite what anyone might imply given the way he looks, and Satoru just manages to be the perfect person for him to take care of. 

Because Suguru loves Satoru, nothing will ever be too much if it means keeping him happy. 

Fortunately, operation movie night was a success. Shoko, Haibara, and Suguru enjoyed themselves —the movie is more interesting than what he initially thought and he’s happy to confirm Satoru will definitely like it— and when Shoko suggests grabbing something to eat afterwards, the tattoo artist declines, excusing himself. Although the piercer doesn’t prod, she does send her friend a knowing look.  

Of course, Shoko knows Suguru has feelings for the white-haired weirdo. Suguru thought he was going to combust if he didn’t say it out loud at least once, and Shoko was there to listen to his rant. Although she did look annoyed and absolutely done with him, Suguru knew she was happy to be able to be there for him.

Suguru thanks Haibara for the movie and promises that next time he’ll treat them both. He sends a text to Satoru, saying he’ll pick him up and buy him dinner if he promises to help Nanami get everything done before he arrives. 

Satoru texts back, immediately agreeing. 

you’re so gonna regret this when i make u buy wagyu beef lol it’s been TORTURE helping nanami, why is he so serious about preparing lessons? lol he should just wing it like me lmao  

The amount of fondness he feels for his idiot makes him cringe a little, especially because he realises he must be quite sick in the head if he finds Satoru’s horrible personality endearing. Whatever, at least he knows competition will be scarce, no matter how stunning and absolutely heavenly Satoru looks. He only needs to open his mouth to unconsciously drive competition away. That makes it way too easy for Suguru, fortunately. 

you know i’ll buy you whatever u want, be there in ten  

Suguru doesn’t really want to jump to conclusions, but he has an inkling Satoru might like him back. He can only pray that one day he gathers enough evidence and courage to actually tell the physicist just how much he likes him, how strongly he wants to hold him, and how desperately he wants to kiss him. 

But Satoru is like a cat in many ways, so Suguru is afraid of startling him if he behaves too aggressively or too eagerly. For now, he’s happy to let things be, happy to know he is the one Satoru’s eyes find first, Satoru’s hands seek first. He can take his time and slowly ease the other man into accepting Suguru’s advances. 

So far, everything is going okay. He feels better now that he can put the movie meeting behind and just focus on Satoru again. 

By the time he arrives at the entrance of the university, Satoru is already there, tapping his foot incessantly. He smiles upon the sight. 

“Suguru! Finally,” Satoru exclaims, rapidly going towards him. He throws his arm around Suguru’s shoulders and bonks their heads together. As stated before, a cat. “Let’s go, I already know where I want to go.” 

Satoru goes on and on about how absolutely boring Nanami is, and how he should definitely learn from him if he wants to become a less dull professor. Suguru is happy to listen to him, making sure to pay attention to where they’re going since the physicist liked to turn his brain off when they were together. He doesn’t mind, he guesses Satoru is constantly using his brain for researching and teaching and he’s happy to help lessen the burden. Satoru can act like an airhead all he wants around him, he’ll be sure to anchor him so he doesn’t slip away. He’s just happy to be so deeply trusted. 

Dinner goes well and although Satoru offers to pay or at least split the bill, Suguru declines and says he deserves it since he helped Nanami out.  

Things started to go downhill once they were done with their crepes (Satoru had insisted that dessert was a must and hey! what better than a crepe to end the night on a perfect, sweet note?). Suguru needed to use the bathroom really quickly, so he left his things with Satoru and went to relieve himself. 

Once he comes back, he sees that Satoru was on the phone with someone. 

Satoru is on his phone with someone, he notices. It isn’t weird, given that Satoru often liked to pick up his phone ─nobody other than Shoko, Haibara, and occasionally his mother, actually called him. He doesn’t mind, either.  

“Sure, Haibara, I’ll let Suguru know. Don’t worry.”

The face Satoru is making at him was enough of a warning. 

Ah, fuck.  

“So, what did Haibara want?” Suguru asks, trying to fake nonchalance.  

“Where did you go this evening, Suguru?” Satoru asks in lieu of a response as he gives the phone back to him. 

He takes it and sees that there are a couple of new messages from Shoko and Haibara. His habit of ignoring his phone whenever he was with Satoru sure came to bite him in the ass. 

Well, there isn’t much he can do at the moment other than be honest. He can already tell Satoru is mad, which can only mean one thing: he’s aware of what Suguru did in the evening and is giving him a chance to explain himself. 

There isn’t much to explain, though. Or at least, nothing he could say that would spare him from the lash Satoru is about to give him.  

“I went to the cinema with Shoko and Haibara.” 

Satoru’s eyebrow twitches.  

“What did you watch?” 

And this is the tricky part. Going to the cinema without Satoru isn’t the problem per se, it’s having watched the specific movie he has been rambling about for weeks now.  

“What did Haibara want?” He asks first.  

“He says you forgot your jacket in the cinema and not to worry, he’ll bring it to work tomorrow. Now, what did you watch, Suguru?” 

He can lie, of course. And ask Shoko and Haibara to play along in case Satoru decides to ask them. Unfortunately, he knows the other man too well to know otherwise. He probably already asked Haibara the moment he heard they went to the cinema.  

“I’m sorry, Satoru.” There’s no point in lying, Satoru already knows the answer. He decides trying to put the fire out before it even starts is the best way to go about this. “Haibara bought the tickets as a surprise for Shoko and me.” 

“Suguru, you fucking traitor! I can’t believe you would betray me like this,” Satoru shouts, clearly upset. “And you went with Haibara! To watch fucking Barbie!” 

Nobody can blame Suguru for not trying, at least. 

“Shoko was there too, Satoru,” he tries to placate the other man. “It was a work thing, Haibara was just trying to be thoughtful. I couldn’t say no! Also, it’s not like I’m not going to the cinema with you, so it’s not a big deal.”

That’s clearly the wrong thing to say because Satoru now looks furious.

“Not a big deal? Wow, Suguru, just. Wow. Maybe for you. But it is to me, imagine how I felt when I learned that my best friend in the entire world, who by the way promised to go watch the movie that I’ve been wanting to watch for ages with me, just goes to watch that exact same movie. Without me. With someone else. And then tries to lie to me about it!” 

So, Suguru didn’t actually lie. He just opted not to tell Satoru, though he guesses it wouldn’t do him any good to bring it up. 

“This is why I didn’t want to tell you, I didn’t want you to get mad. But I couldn’t just cancel on him, Haibara had already bought the tickets. Don’t be unreasonable.” 

“Well, I got mad anyways so, congrats genius! Also, you could’ve said to him ‘Sorry, let’s go watch something else’.” 

“Satoru! Are you not listening? He bought the tickets; it would have been rude to refuse it like that.” 

“I don’t care! You made a promise with me first, I don’t give a flying fuck if you are rude to Haibara or hurt his feelings, I should be your number one priority.”

And there it is. Suguru knows Satoru wasn’t going to take it lightly, but still, he believes the other man is overreacting. There is something hiding between Satoru’s words that he can’t ignore. He wants to hope but he also wants Satoru to be direct, as clear as possible. 

Is he getting mad just because they are best friends or is it something else? Is it even normal to be this upset about a situation like theirs? 

“And why is that? Why should you be my number one priority?” He doesn’t want to point out that Satoru is his number one priority, hence the little dilemma they’re currently in.  

Satoru looks at him like he’s grown another head. Like Suguru is the one being difficult. 

“B-because I’m your best friend! Obviously. And therefore, you should think about me before anyone else.” 

“I think you’re overreacting. You’re right, I shouldn’t have lied to you. But I don’t think you should get this mad at me.” 

Now, Satoru looks like Suguru has slapped him. Good God, why was the physicist so dramatic? 

“Well, excuse me for feeling hurt and betrayed that my best friend broke his promise. You only think I’m overreacting because it isn’t your trust that has been broken. Quite sure you would feel the same if the roles were reversed.”

Would Suguru feel annoyed if Satoru went to the cinema with Nanami to watch a movie they promised to watch together? Probably. Would he make a scene because of it? Unlikely. He would probably just use it as blackmailing material or would bring it up every once in a while just to see his friend squirm. 

“I don’t think so. Come on, Satoru, I already said I was sorry. Let me make it up to you, okay? I’ll take you to that all-you-can-eat buffet you like.” 

“You don’t think so?” It’s like Satoru hasn’t even heard the rest of the sentence. “I think you’re full of shit, Suguru. I think you would be as mad as me.” 

“As I said─” 

“Actually,” Satoru interrupts him, his eyes shining dangerously. At some point, he had removed his shades from his face, which now sit at the top of his head. “You know what? What if I decided I want a tattoo and I want Haibara to do it, huh? How would that make you feel?” 

Suguru refrains from laughing in Satoru’s face. Now they are talking about bullshit. There is no way his friend would do such a thing. Pigs don’t fly, capitalism ruins the world, Satoru would never let Haibara tattoo him. Facts. 

“Yeah, right. Like that’s gonna happen.” 

That was a mistake, actually. Satoru is easily egged and incredibly petty; Suguru should have shut the fuck up. 

“What, you think I can’t do it? What happens when I do it? You will finally admit that I’m not overreacting and that it would actually bother you?” 

“I will admit to nothing because I know you won’t do such a thing. Come on, Satoru, just let it─” 

“It’s settled, then. I’m getting my first tattoo with Haibara.” 

“Satoru─” 

“Unless you admit I’m not overreacting and that I have every right to act the way I do.” 

And the worst part about them is just how similar they are. Suguru is just as stubborn as his friend. Maybe even more when he knows he’s in the right. Just the thought of Satoru actually going through with what he wants to do stings, he’s not going to lie. But he knows that’s impossible. Suguru would never let anyone put a needle near Satoru, only he is allowed. Satoru made him promise as much so that’s how he knows the other man is now currently talking out of his ass. 

“Yeah, right. You are overreacting, I won’t take it back.”

 “So you don’t care?” Satoru sounds so hurt Suguru has to roll his eyes.

“I do care, idiot. I just know you won’t do it.” 

“Oh, but I will.” 

“Nobody is buying that, drop it.” 

“Why?” And now he’s back to that cocky voice of his, a smirk plastered on his face. “Just the thought of it bothers you?” 

“In what world does watching a movie with someone else equal to getting a tattoo by another person? It’s completely different, you can’t just─” 

“In my world.” He answers petulantly. “And I can. Now, take it back or watch me have another tattoo artist put his hands on me.” 

“I won’t do it.” Suguru knows Satoru is just fucking with him, and for once, he wants to be firm.  

“I’m really gonna do it, Suguru. For real rea l.” 

“Go ahead then,” Suguru taunts him. “I know you won’t do it.”

 “You’re so gonna regret being a stubborn bitch when you have to hold my hand while Haibara tattoos me.” 

“You are the one being a stubborn bitch. Go on, I dare you. I know you, and you won’t do it.” 

Satoru looks like he’s about to throttle Suguru, and for a second he’s scared he will actually try to attack him ─after all, his friend is prone to outbursts of insanity─ but before he even has the chance to consider if he will have to deck the man he likes in the face, Satoru’s face reverts back to its sarcastic demeanour. 

“You’re gonna be begging me to stop when I actually do it. Because I will.” 

“I’ll be here when you decide to stop acting like a little bitch. Ready to say, ‘I told you so’.”

“Fuck you, Suguru.” 

“Right back at you, asshole.” 

- 

None of them back down, predictably. Satoru makes a whole deal out of visiting the tattoo parlour just to see Haibara, so the young tattoo artist can design his first tattoo ever. Haibara, poor thing, looks absolutely lost. Afraid, even. He sends a panicked look towards Suguru.

“That’s alright, Haibara. Satoru just wants to get his first tattoo and he just happens to love your style.” 

Satoru scowls and glares daggers at him. Suguru just smirks. Two can play this game. 

“That’s very flattering, Gojo-san. But I thought that maybe you’d want Geto-san to give you your first tattoo?” 

“Nonsense, Haibara. Suguru sucks, you don’t, end of discussion. Now, back to designing, show me what you have.” 

Haibara sends another look his way and Suguru just smiles, encouragingly. Surely by the end of their “discussion” Satoru will give in. He has already decided he won’t be too hard on the other man; he will just pat him on the head and take him out to eat something. He will even stop himself from saying ‘I told you so’. All Satoru needs to do now is go back to him and admit he was just joking and would never ever let someone else put their mark on him. Just Suguru. 

The only problem is that by the end of the day, Satoru does not go back to Suguru. He does not admit to being wrong. He just pats Haibara’s shoulder, telling him they will see each other next week for their appointment. 

“Bye, Suguru,” he even has the audacity to say before leaving. 

Oh, Satoru is hellbent on making a show out of it? Well, joke’s on him. Does he think he can break Suguru just by agreeing to an appointment? There is no way in hell Satoru is getting a tattoo with Haibara of all people ─no disrespect intended. 

Suguru will indulge Satoru and let him play his little game. He has decided he will even agree that Satoru wasn’t even overreacting, although he doesn’t actually believe it. He can be merciful like that, so now Satoru needs to call the whole thing off. He doesn’t even have to admit to anything, Suguru just wants to hang out like they always did. He wants Satoru to call his name repeatedly to grab his attention, to hang off his shoulder as if he were a toddler, not a whole 1.90 metres giant, to call Suguru’s bangs silly while clipping them away. 

He wants Satoru back, not this cold version of him who seems dead set on winning a stupid argument. 

- 

Satoru does not cancel the appointment. He doesn’t even come around and even Shoko is starting to get worried.

It’s fine, it’s more than fine, Satoru is just being a little bit more stubborn than usual. And what if he didn’t cancel the appointment? Whatever, he will probably show up on the day ready to admit there’s no way in hell he is letting someone other than Suguru tattoo him. 

Because that’s a fact, right? Satoru wouldn’t─ he would never ever. Right? He was the one who said nobody but Suguru in the first place. His words.  

The day of the appointment, Satoru struts into the shop with the most shit-eating grin ever known to humankind. It infuriates Suguru, he just wants to grab him by the shoulder and shake him off to tell him to snap out of it. He does nothing of the sort. 

“Hello, Suguru. It’s the D-day, you got anything to say to me?” Satoru is all over him, almost shoving his face against Suguru’s shoulder, shit-eating grin still in place. 

“Hi, Satoru. I hope you’re ready for your appointment, Haibara is almost done preparing everything.”  

It’s obvious that’s not what the physicist wanted to hear because his face falls. He looks mad now, and Suguru just smiles at him, all fake and disgustingly sweet. 

“Unless, of course, you don’t actually want to get a tattoo?” 

His friend snorts and crosses his arms over his chest. 

“As if,” he lies through his teeth. “I’m really doing it, Suguru. You sure you don’t have anything to say to me?” For a hot moment, Suguru can almost hear the plea in Satoru’s tone. His eyes are naked, shades resting on top of his white strands, and they look like they’re begging Suguru to say something.  

His resolve shakes. Maybe he’s taking it too far? It was Satoru’s fault, though, he reasons. He made the stupid bet, and he’s the one taunting Suguru now. And honestly, he gives in every single time; he can have this. He can try to confront Satoru regarding his less than platonic outburst of jealousy.  

Come on, Satoru, just admit it.  

“I bought you a can of coke in case you need sugar before your session,” is all he offers. 

Those eyes, usually endless and blue like the sky after a storm, now look like there’s a storm raging within them. It’s almost terrifying how dull they can manage to look. Inadvertently, it makes Suguru twist with discomfort, it’s the first time he’s seen such a look on his friend. The fact that it’s him who got them to look like that just adds to the growing pile of uneasiness in his stomach. 

He can’t be weak now. He needs this. 

“Fine, have it your way, you fucking asshole. You’re so gonna regret this.”

“I don’t think I will.” And Suguru is confident because he knows Satoru won’t go through with it. There’s just no way. He might be feeling a bit restless, and although he wouldn’t put it past Satoru to actually get a tattoo to prove a point, this is not the case. It’s ─it’s different. Suguru knows it’s different. And surely Satoru does too, right? 

Haibara is finished setting everything up. He’s printing the stencil and while the machine does its work, he looks at Satoru and then at Suguru. 

“Is this…okay?” The poor boy looks like he’s waiting for any of them to tell him everything is just a joke. “Gojo-san, we don’t have to─” 

“It’s all good, Haibara. I’m leaving out of here with a tattoo and a big ass apology.” 

The young tattoo artist just looks at Suguru, as if asking for permission. Permission to do what? Tattooing his best friend? He doesn’t need it because it’s not gonna happen. 

He just nods. 

Satoru climbs into the chair, offering his arm to Haibara to put the stencil on.

Suguru tries to ignore the way his friend is completely pale, and how a light coat of sweat glistens on his forehead. He tries to be strong, he’s so close. So close. The moment the stencil is all done, Satoru will fold. He has to. 

He has to. 

Haibara double checks the design and the position with Satoru, asking him if it’s to his taste. He doesn't even look at the blue lines on his skin, his eyes are trained on Suguru. He just nods. 

Come on, Satoru, fuck. Stop being so stubborn.  

And then, the whirring sound of the machine being turned on cuts through the silence like a knife through softened butter. Easy but still surprising.

Before Suguru had any chance to tell Haibara to fucking stop, the fuck you think you’re doing?  Satoru withdraws his arm, folding it against his chest. He looks absolutely livid, his features twisted into something so feral Suguru doesn’t even feel like pointing that he has technically won their stupid warfare. 

“What the fuck, Suguru? You don’t really give a shit, don’t you? You were really going to let Haibara do my first tattoo?”

Cotton fills Suguru’s mouth all at once. He wants to tell Satoru that he would have never, that he was about to stop Haibara before he could actually put the needle against Satoru’s skin. He would never let anyone who isn’t Suguru touch Satoru. But the words won’t come out, too shocked at seeing the way in which Satoru trembles in the chair.

Haibara puts the needle down and looks between Satoru and Suguru, looking angstier by the second. 

“Satoru…” Suguru says, hands held with his palms up, as if to appease a scared animal. 

“No, shut up.” Satoru gets down the chair. “Fuck you, Suguru. I thought you cared!” 

I do, I do, I do, I do, I care so much, I promise.  

“Wait, Satoru─” Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Why are words failing Suguru right now? “It’s not like that.” 

“I know you think it’s stupid and childish and it doesn’t make any sense to get this upset but you know what, Suguru? Nothing makes sense to me when it comes to you, I thought you knew. There’s no logic, I just─” Satoru looks hurt, confused, and betrayed, all at the same time. Oh, how much Suguru despises it. “I just. Everything you say, everything you do, it has so much meaning to me. I thought this meant as much to you as it did to me. Fuck, I thought maybe─ you’re always… to me─ you─” Satoru is getting frustrated by his own lack of eloquence. He’s growing more exasperated by the minute, evident now by the way he’s only opening and closing his mouth, no sound coming out. There’s nothing Suguru wants to do more than to reach out and tell him not to force himself, to take his time. He would never rush him to express himself. 

Take your time, I will always listen.  

“You─ I thought─ you were…with me─ I hoped─ perhaps we could… ugh, fuck! You know what? Fuck this, fuck you, fuck everything.” 

Satoru is incredibly red in the face. It’s not the light red tint that sometimes takes over his pale skin whenever he is embarrassed, it’s a blotchy red that spreads to his neck and betrays just how angry he feels. Before Suguru can even beg him to listen to him, he storms out of the shop.  

Suguru wastes no time and follows after him, running after him, leaving a stunned Haibara behind. He could deal with that later; Satoru is the number one priority now. 

“Satoru, wait! Satoru!” He tries to catch up to the other man, but Satoru is fast when he wants to and in no time, he vanishes from Suguru’s sight, his figure getting lost amidst the busy crowd. It shouldn’t be so easy to blend in given how much Satoru stands out anywhere he goes, but no matter how much he strains his sight, there’s no trace of Satoru anywhere. 

“Fuck!” Suguru screams, racking his hands through his hair nervously, almost desperately. 

God, he’s such a fucking idiot. Why was he expecting for Satoru to be the one to fold when Suguru has proven time after time that he’s the only one that will always give in?

This goes beyond just that promise he made with Satoru of being Suguru the only one who would ever get to mark Satoru’s perfect skin with ink. Suguru has conditioned Satoru into thinking he would never have to fold because Suguru would always understand his opinions, would always accept his views, even when they don’t see eye to eye. Satoru has accepted this reality that Suguru created for him, and in some way, such action conveyed how much Suguru cared for Satoru. 

It’s obvious Satoru will think Suguru doesn’t care anymore when he doesn't fold first. He has taught the physicist as much. Fuck, it’s Suguru’s fault. What was he trying to prove? What was he expecting of Satoru when he didn’t know any better? Suguru knows Satoru is possessive and territorial, knew it from the first time and still stuck around, so really, why was he expecting for Satoru to act any differently? 

Perhaps, in his own twisted way, Suguru just wanted Satoru to admit that the reason he acts so conceited all the time is because…he likes Suguru. More than a friend. He wanted Satoru to explain why he got so irrationally jealous, more than even a best friend would, why he was constantly drapping himself all over Suguru, why he was so damn gentle and careful when playing with his hair, why can’t he bring himself to look at Suguru in the eye. 

Suguru just wanted Satoru to admit he wanted him just as badly as he did the physicist. He wanted Satoru to look him in the eye and be honest about his feelings for him, because he is sure Satoru likes him too. 

God, he really has handled this in the worst way possible, pushing Satoru out of his comfort zone like that. Making him rethink their entire relationship. He should’ve been more courageous, more honest with the other man. 

He should’ve told Satoru that…that Suguru loved him. Because that was the truth, wasn’t it? 

Suguru’s fallen in love with the person that Satoru is around Suguru. He’s fallen for that soft smile that Satoru hides so viciously behind his cocky smirk but that gives so freely to Suguru. He’s fallen for that voice that is always taunting, teasing, but that drops into something so affectionate when calling Suguru’s name. He’s fallen for those eyes that people look away from, eyes an icy blue that seem to scrutinise every cell of your body, a gaze so piercing it leaves you breathless; the very same eyes that light up whenever Suguru would buy ice cream for Satoru, the very same eyes that coyly look up at Suguru from a white forest of eyelashes that are usually protected by tinted glasses. 

Everything about Satoru, Suguru loves fervently. From the soft, subdue version of Satoru he only shows Suguru, to the loud, eccentric genius with a bad personality that commands everyone’s attention once he steps into a room. Everything about Gojo Satoru is lovable. It was never an option, honestly, Suguru was always going to fall in love with Satoru. There was no other end for him. 

And now, none of that matters because he has broken Satoru’s trust in the cruellest of ways. 

- 

Trying to reach Satoru is impossible. He doesn’t answer his phone and he’s not at his office, either. 

Suguru is running out of options, so he calls Nanami.

The immense amount of guilt he felt while he saw Satoru disappear in the crowd only doubled when back in the shop, Haibara confessed he was never going to tattoo Satoru. The other man had told him to just play along with him because surely, Suguru would never let it happen. Haibara had even explained how Satoru apologised for wasting his time but that he would be more than happy to still pay for everything once he and Suguru made up. 

Satoru had been so convinced Suguru would stop him. And he had failed him. Fuck. 

“Geto-san?” 

“Nanami,” he replies, relieved. For some reason, he thought Satoru’s colleague wouldn’t pick up. “Listen─” 

“Gojo isn’t in Japan.” 

What? 

“Pardon?” Suguru must be going crazy because he can almost swear Nanami said Satoru isn’t in Japan. 

He hears a sigh from the other side of the phone. 

“Gojo is in Germany. He’s teaching a course at the University of Munich this semester. And I take it he didn’t tell you. He left two days ago.”

Suddenly, the world starts spinning. Suguru feels faint. 

“He did not,” he says slowly. “What do you mean─ I mean, did he say something before he left? Satoru─” He takes a controlled breath. Inhaled, exhaled. “Did Satoru say something to you before he left?” 

“I know you guys had a fight or something,” Nanami says after the longest minute of Suguru’s life. “He didn’t go into details, he just seemed terribly upset.” 

“It’s all my fault, Nanami. I’m such a fucking idiot, I hurt Satoru.” 

“Geto-san, pardon me if it feels like I’m intruding in your…relationship. Although I admit I don’t know you too well, I can say you would never do anything to actively hurt Gojo on purpose. Not after everything he told me you do for him, at least. Gojo can be stubborn, and he does not have a great record of being emotionally intelligent, either. I think it’s a misunderstanding.” 

“Nanami,” he says, almost choked. He would never ever do anything to hurt Satoru on purpose, let the skies strike him if that isn’t true. But he still did. Perhaps not out of malice, but that doesn’t erase the fact that he betrayed Satoru’s trust. 

“Plus, he can be quite dramatic. And he’s a moron.”

“Satoru isn’t─” 

“What I’m trying to say here, Geto-san,” Nanami barrels on. “Is that you should talk it out. I’m sure Gojo will forgive you. He seems…fond of you, to say the least.” 

Suguru makes the decision right there. It’s easy, isn’t it? 

“Do you know where he’s staying in Munich?” 

{-}

Suguru remembers when Satoru asked him if he had a passport, a couple of weeks ago. Of course, when Nanami mentioned he was in Germany, he connected the dots. Satoru had been pestering about going on a trip together, and now Suguru thinks it’s Germany he was talking about. 

He was probably waiting for them to make-up before asking Suguru, yet like the damn idiot he was, that had not happened.  

To say that he’s nervous is an understatement. He knows what he looks like to the general public: tall, dark, tattoos and piercings out. Not a great first impression, and although he’s aware outside of Japan the looks of him are perhaps less looked down upon, he definitely can’t say the people at the reception aren’t being judgemental. 

He’s afraid he’ll get kicked out before he has the chance to catch Satoru. Plus, he does not want to communicate with any of these people, his English is shit at best and he isn’t sure how reliable the translator app in his phone is. He only hopes he looks intimidating enough so the people working at the hotel think twice before trying to approach him. 

From the corner of his eye, he can see how one of the receptions seems to be speaking to his colleague about him, if the way she keeps looking at him and then away when he catches her is anything to go by. Sweat starts forming on his forehead when he sees how the woman is circling the front desk, clearly leaving her spot. Shit. 

Shitshitshitshitshit. 

Suguru plays dumb, grabbing his phone and just opening and closing his apps. 

“ Excuse me, sir, ” he suddenly hears in accented English. 

He looks up, and before he can even answer, he sees a flash of white getting into the hotel. 

“Satoru,” he says, breathless. The woman is left confused when Suguru stands up and rushes past her. 

“Satoru,” Suguru calls, hoping to catch his attention. The woman from before calls out to him, probably to stop him from trying to follow one of the guests. The physicist seems to be in a deep discussion with a tall, blonde man that looks like he has a stick up his ass. “Satoru!” 

When Satoru turns around, a confused look on his face, Suguru’s stomach drops. There he is, and oh, it’s been a long week without seeing the other man, a week of zero communication that was starting to drive him mad. Yet, there he is, looking every bit like the Satoru in Suguru’s dream, only better because he’s real and he’s actually looking at him. 

“Suguru?” For a moment, it looks like Satoru might smile, the corners of his mouth slightly turning up. He catches himself before he does, and it breaks Suguru’s heart all over again. He seems to say something to the man next to him, probably excusing himself, and then walks towards Suguru. 

“What are you doing here?” Satoru says once he’s standing in front of him, voice flat. He’s not really looking at him, arms crossed, and head slightly turned to the side: his go-to sulking pose. Suguru knows it shouldn’t make him smile, given the circumstances, but he can’t help how such a Satoru-like action makes his lips stretch.  

“Satoru, we need to ta─” 

The woman from before interrupts him, addressing Satoru and asking him something in German. She’s clearly talking about Suguru, although he doesn’t understand a word she says. The white-haired man replies to her in rapid German, and okay, Suguru won’t lie, that is fucking impressive. He already knew Satoru was fluent in English, but he wasn’t aware he also knew how to speak freaking German. Strangely, it makes sense. Satoru is good at absolutely everything, and Suguru has yet to find something he’s bad at. 

Probably feelings. Although he can’t say he’s much better at them. But he’s trying.

The conversation between the woman and Satoru goes on for a bit more, and then she’s leaving, sending a slight bow Suguru’s way. Surprised, he bows back. 

“Let’s not do this here, come with me.” And then Suguru is getting dragged by Satoru to the lift. 

“How did you know I was here?” The physicist asks after an awkward silence. 

“Nanami.” 

“That fucking traitor.” 

“Don’t blame him, I called him. I tried to reach you, but I couldn’t. You wouldn’t answer my calls or texts, so I was getting a bit desperate.” Suguru promised to himself before flying to Germany that he was going to be 100% honest with Satoru. He owed it to him. 

Satoru doesn’t say anything to that, he just keeps his sulking pose. Yet Suguru can tell that he is biting the inside of his cheek. 

They don’t say anything else until the lift stops, and Suguru is getting dragged again, this time around inside Satoru’s room.  

He is reminded again of Satoru’s status when he looks around and he sees how fancy everything is. Of course. His friend is an eminence, and he guesses the physicist is always given only the best of the best. It suits him, though. Satoru looks like timeless royalty, born to be treated like a king, like a deity even, in whatever age he comes to be. Suguru suddenly feels extremely lucky to have him in his own era. To have met him, to have befriended him. To love him. 

“You wanted to talk. So, talk.” 

Right. He isn’t here to get lost in Satoru’s features; however lovely they might be. He’s here to fix the biggest fuck up of his life. 

“I’m sorry, Satoru,” he starts. “I’m sorry I let everything go so far, I should’ve said something before. I should’ve just agreed with you. I don’t─ I never meant for you to actually believe I would let anyone but me touch you. I wouldn’t, for the record. I need you to know I would be devastated, furious even, if you ever let someone other than me tattoo you. I would feel betrayed, and I’d probably snap at you. You were right, you weren’t overreacting. You’re right, Satoru, you’re right. And I can’t even begin to explain how awful I felt I made you doubt me.” 

Satoru uncrosses his arm and finally looks at him.  

“Don’t you ever doubt, not even for a second, that I care about you. You are my first priority. Always. I’m so sorry. The last thing I ever wanted was to hurt you, you’re so important to me, I would ne─” 

“Stop,” Satoru suddenly says, completely red in the face. He’s covering his mouth with one hand, looking completely embarrassed. “Stop, Suguru. God, why are you damn earnest.” 

“I just think it’s important for you to know how sorry I am. And how much I care about you. I’m not lying, I swear.” 

“I believe you, just─ just… Give me a second.” 

Well, Suguru wasn’t really expecting this development. Satoru is having trouble looking at him, and his face is still very much red. He suddenly takes his shades off and turns around, giving his back to Suguru. 

“I believe you,” he says in a small voice. “You’re not the only one at fault, don’t take the blame for everything. I know I’m stubborn, and I’m also aware you just let me get away with everything all the time. And just this one time you put your foot down I was so confused. I did overreact.” 

“Satoru─”

“No, let me talk. Suguru, you’re always indulging me, I just started to read too much in it. I-I started to…hope. That. That you would feel the same way I feel for you. I like you. So, when you didn’t back down, I just grew angry. At you, and at me. Why didn’t you feel the same way I do? Why were you not stopping me? The lines started to blur for me, and it was hard for me to accept that not backing down didn’t mean you didn’t care about me. It just probably meant that while you’re a good friend to me, the best, you just don’t like me the way I like you. And then I got angry at you. I’m sorry. You…you are an amazing friend, Suguru. You did nothing wrong. It was just me projecting. And I’m feeling really fucking embarrassed right now, so if could just promise me you won’t distance yourself from me despite…everything I just told you, and then leave so I can be alone, I’d really appreciate it.” 

Suguru is way too stunned to speak, so he just stares at the back of Satoru’s head like a dumbass. No way he just…? He totally did. Oh God. Satoru is the biggest idiot on Earth, and Suguru is right there with him. Complete losers, both of them. 

“Fine, don’t say anything. I get it.” 

“Satoru, look at me,” Suguru says, walking towards his friend. He doesn’t wait for Satoru to listen to him and grabs him by the elbow, forcing him to face him. The other man absolutely refuses to look at him and even tries to wiggle his way out of Suguru’s hold. 

“No, let me go! Please, I don’t want to─” 

“Satoru, you fucking dumbass, I’m in love with you.” 

The struggle leaves Satoru’s body instantly. He takes advantage of the fact that he’s gone lax and intertwines their hands. Satoru’s palm against his feels perfect, like it was always meant to be there, in Suguru’s grasp. They fit so well it makes Suguru wonder why the fuck he didn’t do this before. 

“Oh.” 

“Could you not tell? I flew all the way to Germany not because I’m just a good friend, you dummy. I love you, Satoru. And I came here to apologise for hurting you, regardless of whose fault it was, and to tell you that I love you. I came here hoping that you would feel the same way, because there’s nothing I want more than to call you mine, and to be yours.” 

Satoru looks dazed, his eyes jumping from Suguru’s face to their joint hands, his pretty eyes going impossibly wide. Like he can’t believe it. And it’s very frustrating, because of course Suguru fell in love with him: Satoru is just so divine, he never stood a chance against him. 

“I love you, too,” Satoru finally says. “I’m in love with you, too.” 

He looks so out of his depth, Suguru smiles. Satoru is just the cutest. 

“I’m glad.”  

It’s the truth. Suguru thinks the same skies that sent Satoru down to Earth have blessed him as well, making this impossibly amazing boy fall in love with him. He could never ask for anything else, never again. In a single moment, he’s used his one and only golden ticket in life. And he would use it again and again for Satoru. Only for him.

The little tug he feels in his hand is the only warning he gets before Satoru is pulling him in and kissing him, mouth hungry and tongue eager. 

Suguru’s been starving too, and he lets Satoru know, letting go of their joint hands so he can pull Satoru flushed against him, keeping him in place by the waist. Satoru seems to want to melt into him, his arms going around Suguru’s shoulders, and his tongue lapping at his lips, at his teeth. He sucks eagerly on his tongue and Suguru muffles a moan. He feels how Satoru’s hands tangle in his hair and expertly get rid of his half-bun, letting all his dark hair down. He laughs a little against Satoru’s mouth. 

“Don’t laugh at me,” the other man says, trying to lean back a little. It proves to be a challenging task given the way Suguru is holding him so tightly. “You always look so handsome, Suguru. But your hair down makes you look very sexy. Extra beautiful.” 

“Does it, now?” 

Satoru nods, suddenly growing serious. 

“You’re so sexy, Suguru, you were driving me mad. Always flaunting all your tattoos, and your muscles, and your piercings, and your beautiful, luscious hair. It was so unfair, it’s like you were trying to kill me.” 

Against all odds, he grows shy upon Satoru’s words. Suguru knows he isn’t bad looking and knows the effect his looks have on people. He’s used to being complimented. Yet, to hear it so bluntly said by the person he loves is a whole other thing. 

“I’m glad I’m your type,” he says, lips finding their way to Satoru’s neck. He kisses the skin there, nipping it slightly. A tremor runs through Satoru’s body, and it makes the desire in his belly flare up. His boy is so sensitive. 

“I think you’re everyone’s type, though.” Suguru is only lapping at his neck, leaving small bites and kissing the indents his teeth leave on the skin, yet Satoru already sounds breathless.  

“I don’t care about anyone who isn’t you.” 

“Good.” 

{-}

“What was your first impression of me?” 

They are lying on Satoru’s bed, his head on Suguru’s chest. Satoru was eager to keep making out with him yet the moment he let out a yawn, Suguru remembered the physicist was probably tired from running around all day, so he suggested taking a little nap.

Satoru didn’t want to nap; he was too excited about the recent development of events between the two of them to just fall asleep. But he did agree to at least lay on the bed to be more comfortable. 

“Weird,” Suguru answers honestly.  

“Suguru, you’re so mean to me.” 

He just chuckles and pats Satoru’s head, fingers softly caressing the snow-white strands. 

“Do you wanna know my first impression of you?” 

“Sure.” 

“Hot.” 

At this, he lets out a full laugh. 

“Really? That’s why you kept coming back to pester me? I knew you only wanted me for my body.” 

He feels Satoru nodding and giggling against his chest. 

“Part of. I mean, yeah, looking at your face was a great bonus. Although the reason I kept coming back was…I know it’s gonna sound a little stupid, but ─you felt familiar. Like. I don’t know. Something about you made me want to talk to you. Ugh. I know it’s cheesy, but I can’t explain it better.” 

“It’s not cheesy,” Suguru is quick to assure him. His fingers are still working on Satoru’s impossibly soft hair. “I can’t say I fully understand it but I’m glad you felt that way. I’m glad you kept coming back to me.” 

I’m glad whatever you felt led you to me, he doesn’t say.  

“I’m glad, too.” Suguru smiles when he feels Satoru leaving a short kiss on his cleavage. He remembers when he believed the physicist was way too clingy. Reality is different now, because he wouldn’t have it any other way: he wants to have Satoru all over him always. 

The smell of his shampoo, the warmth of his skin against Suguru’s, his thin fingers that are always looking for him, the permanent red mark on the bridge of his nose; all these things that were never foreign to Suguru now feel so novel under the new light that is Suguru’s feelings for Satoru. So familiar yet so new at the same time; a rock that’s been cracked to reveal the shiny interior. 

Satoru makes Suguru feel so many things he can’t even begin to name them. 

“When did you realise you liked me?” 

“What is this, 20 questions?” He teases. 

Unsurprisingly, Satoru whines.

“Come on, indulge me a little, Suguru. You like me so much you travelled all the way to Germany so you could tell me you love me. Don’t act all bashful now.”  

“Brat,” Suguru says, softly tugging at a strand of hair. Satoru chuckles on top of him. “When I helped you put your bandages on. I remember thinking I didn’t want anyone else to do it, I didn’t want anyone else touching you.” 

“Wow, possessive now, aren’t we?” 

“I also remember thinking I had the worst taste in the world.” 

“Aw, your words can’t hurt me, Suguru. I know you love me, you big softie. Who knew Suguru was such a romantic?” 

Unfortunately, he has nothing to say because it’s true. He also wasn’t aware of his romantic side. Now, all he wants is to make Satoru laugh and to stare at him 24/7. He wants to pepper his face in kisses, wants to hold his hand, wants to grab his hand while walking, wants to cook something tasty for him, wants to cuddle him to sleep. Suguru wants and wants and wants, and he just hopes Satoru is selfless enough to let him take everything for himself.

“I liked you since you said I could take my time speaking,” Satoru admits. 

Suguru frowns, trying to remember when he had said something like that. There’s a vague memory in his mind from when they were starting to get to know each other. It was the first time he realised that sometimes Satoru needed a bit of time to correctly process his thoughts. 

But that couldn’t be because that had been so long ago. Surely Satoru didn’t like him after all that time. Right? 

“I’ve liked you for a long time now, Suguru. You have no idea how much I wanted you to like me back. Every time I saw you the only thing I could think of was how badly I needed you to look at me the same way I looked at you.” 

There’s so much yearning in Satoru’s voice, Suguru feels his heart stutter. Suddenly, he feels the weight on top of him shift. 

He goes underwater, pinned into place by the ocean that stares at him. A blue so indescribable it’s like looking at a kaleidoscope made of sapphires: vivid blues glowing wildly. 

“Geto Suguru,” the God of this indomitable mass of water speaks to him. “You are the answer to all the prayers I’ve been repeating every night after I knew it was you for me.” 

There’s nothing Suguru can do but let himself be dragged to this bottomless ocean that calls to him so sweetly, so intimately. He’s been chosen by this deity, and he will answer his call. His heart beats loudly in his chest. 

Yours, yours, yours, every beat repeats. 

“I love you,” Suguru says, overwhelmed. There are no words to convey the array of feelings that have seized his body. All he sees is Satoru. All he wants is Satoru. “I love you,” he repeats. 

Satoru smiles at him, eyes turning playful. He crawls on top of Suguru, settling on his hips like he has always belonged there. Like a king sitting on his promised throne. He takes Suguru’s hands and guides them to his waist. 

Suguru’s breath catches in his throat at the sight. Heat rapidly coils in his belly, groin growing hot under the weight of this impossibly pretty boy who offers himself on a silver plate. 

He feels Satoru’s lips against the sensitive skin of his shell. 

“Then show me how much,” he whispers sensually against Suguru’s ear. 

Could it be? That lady luck has smiled down upon him once more. Kissing Satoru is already past everything he could have asked for. Can he have this as well? Or is this a test? 

The lamb that presents to him now, that settles comfortably between his fangs, is it his for him to take? Is he allowed? 

Satoru kisses his doubts away, lips insistent and a little needy. 

“Suguru,” he presses on. 

Suguru bites. 

{-} 

“F-fuck, just like that,” Satoru moans, back arched beautifully and head against the mattress. “Fuck me just like that, Suguru.” He has to turn his head to be able to breathe properly, to talk. And he loves it, loves it so much, loves the way Satoru’s voice sounds so wrecked already. 

He knows it isn’t easy for Satoru to just let go, to stop thinking, to stop processing information, so he feels proud of the state he’s reduced Satoru to: a babbling mess that drools all over the sheets and keeps crying don’t stop, don’t stop, please Suguru, don’t stop. 

Suguru’s grip on Satoru’s waist tightens; he really hopes his lover bruises, he wants to see his mark on Satoru’s alabaster skin, wants everyone to see it. Suguru wants to tattoo himself all over Satoru, wants to show the world Gojo Satoru is Geto Suguru’s only. Such a divine person, defiled and marked by him. 

“Satoru, you’re so perfect for me, look at you, you look so amazing taking my cock.” Suguru keeps ramming into him, cock brushing that sweet, sweet spot inside Satoru that has his legs trembling and toes curling in pleasure.  

“A-ah, S-suguru, ah, don’t you fucking stop.” 

Suguru can only see half of his lover’s face and he immediately dislikes it. He wants to see Satoru crumble under his touch, wants to see his pretty eyes filled with tears, wants to see the sensual way in which he bites his lips when trying to stop himself from making more embarrassing sounds. Suguru wants to admire Satoru, and although the view presented to him looks taken straight out of Suguru’s dirtiest fantasies, with Satoru on his stomach, knees spread impossible apart and head buried in the pillows, dick steadily drooling on top of the sheets, he wants to see Satoru’s face more than anything. Especially now that it’s the first time they’re fucking. 

Without so much as a warning, Suguru flips Satoru like a damn pancake, back hitting the mattress and bouncing twice before finally settling down. 

“No, Suguru, nonono, fuck me─ ahhh.” He doesn’t give Satoru the chance to mourn the loss of his cock because he immediately drives back home into him, fucking out of him a new plethora of noises that despite everything, has Suguru’s skin reddening given how pornographic they sound. Jesus, Satoru is just so damn perfect, Suguru is about to lose his goddamn mind. 

For all Suguru wanted to see Satoru, the boy beneath him has thrown an arm around his face. 

Suguru clicks his tongue. That won’t do. 

“Come on, don’t hide, baby,” Suguru says. He groans when he feels Satoru tightening around him at the use of the pet name. Interesting. Gently, he pries Satoru’s arm away from his face, and takes the opportunity to run his hand down Satoru’s arm, all the way down until he finds his thin fingers and intertwines their hands. He rests their joint hands next to Satoru’s head.  

Even with his arm off of him, Satoru stubbornly hides from Suguru, eyes closed. Suguru wonders if the fact that Satoru seems so reluctant to open his eyes has something to do with anything someone might have told him in the past. The mere thought of it makes his blood boil. 

“Open your eyes for me, pretty boy, come on, let me see you,” Suguru softly coaxes him. He has stopped the movements of his hips, although he’s still buried deep inside Satoru’s smouldering heat. “Come on, baby, I wanna see you.” 

Satoru takes a deep breath and slowly opens his eyes, baby blue coming alive in the dimly lit room. 

“There you are,” Suguru whispers. With his free hand, he brushes Satoru’s cheek, thumb gently pressing underneath his eye. “Hi, gorgeous.” 

Satoru flushes red all the way down his neck, and it’s such a pretty sight Suguru just wants to go back to fucking his lover right away. Still, he waits, the moment too fragile to shatter it so abruptly just because Suguru is a horny fuck that can’t think straight when Satoru comes into the picture. Especially when he looks so enticing, white eyelashes wet with unshed tears and cheeks a delicate red. 

“You’re so beautiful.” Suguru leans down to kiss Satoru’s cheek, his nose, his lips, his forehead, everywhere he can reach. “So, so beautiful. And you have the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen. My ocean eyes boy, don’t you ever hide from me.” 

“Fuck, shut up already, Suguru, you’re so fucking embarrassing,” Satoru whines. He’s beet red, and his dicks drools steadily on his flat stomach from the praise. Suguru smirks. Satoru acts so coy sometimes, it truly drives him crazy. It’s a good thing Suguru knows him like the back of his hand and can read right through him. 

“Promise you won’t close your eyes,” Suguru says, resting his forehead on top of Satoru’s. “I want you to watch me while I fuck your brains out.” 

“Big words, you big boy,” Satoru teases, a smirk plastered on his sweaty face. Suguru leans back to get a good look at the mouth watering sight that is Satoru underneath him. 

“You know exactly how big.” Suguru thrusts once, successfully wiping that smug look off Satoru’s face that momentarily contours into pleasure. 

“Get to work, then.” And now he’s back to being impatient. “I won’t close my eyes,” he promises. As if to assert his statement, he looks straight into Suguru’s eyes, and it warms Suguru’s heart to see how Satoru is trying to battle his shyness so he can hold eye-contact with him. 

Suguru loves him so much, he feels like he’s about to implode like a supernova, ready to turn into a black hole that will devour everything within its reach. All because Satoru blinks prettily at him, his blue eyes like two beacons of light in the dark. 

“Good. Don’t stop looking at me.” 

Being religious was never Suguru’s calling, or so he had thought until that moment. Gods did not exist and if they did, they certainly weren’t kind to humankind. Yet he can now see he was mistaken. 

Because underneath him lies a deity, unlike any other across the skies, with eyes so blue there isn’t enough pigment in the world that would serve to make such a shade come alive. Underneath him lies a deity that is falling apart at the seams just from Suguru’s hands. Suguru is now a man of faith, a man that worships a single God that calls his name like a prayer, as if it were Suguru the one meant to be worshipped and now the other way around. 

By calling Suguru’s name so sweetly, Satoru bestows divinity to his name, to his whole being. He’s being blessed. And really, it’s a lost battle. He ever stood a chance in the face of fate, the art of the Gods. He now must show gratitude for such a heavenly act, thus Suguru bows to pray to the God that is Satoru Gojo until he draws his last breath.

Satoru calls his name again, and Suguru feels like he’s been born anew. 

{-} 

“I’m glad things worked out for you, Geto-san.” 

Suguru smiles at his coworker. Haibara is always so terribly honest, he can’t feel anything but fondness for the young tattoo artist. Especially since he didn’t make a fuss when Satoru walked into the studio and kissed Suguru hello, making a show of rubbing their noses together before retreating to his designated seat to let Suguru work. 

All he did was smile at them. He didn’t look terribly surprised, now that Suguru thinks about it. 

“Me too, Haibara.” 

They are working on a collaborative piece, working elbow to elbow on the desk. It’s a first and Suguru couldn’t be prouder of how much the younger boy has improved. They’ve been drawing for a while, so Suguru decides it’s time for a well-deserved break. Although he tries to mask it, Haibara lets out a little sigh of relief upon his words. 

“Here.” Suguru extends some money to Haibara. “Go buy yourself something to drink. You’ve worked hard.” 

“Thank you, boss!”  

Suguru grimaces. Haibara has copied Shoko's horrible habit of calling him boss. While he’s aware the piercer does it in a mocking tone just to piss him off, Haibara sounds way too authentic for that. He’s been trying to make the boy drop it though it comes out from time to time. 

“You don’t need to call me that,” he sighs. Haibara just sends him two thumbs-up before leaving the parlour. 

It takes him a second, but he realises something is off. There’s no white-haired weirdo on his lap although Haibara just left. Usually, it doesn’t take long for Satoru to jump him the moment he takes a little break from work, so the sudden lack of his boyfriend whining about Suguru not paying him enough attention disconcerts him. 

Confused, he turns his head towards Satoru. 

Said boyfriend seems to be currently playing a phone game, eyes stuck to the little screen while his thumbs move at an incredible speed. He doesn’t seem to register Suguru is done with his work, and it honestly offends him a little. 

He stands up and walks towards Satoru, standing next to him. Satoru does not look up from his phone. 

Suguru clears his throat.

“I see you, Suguru, give me a second. I'm about to beat this level.” 

Oh wow. Is this how Satoru felt every time Suguru asked his boyfriend to wait? 

What a fucking terrible feeling. What the fuck. He knows it’s stupid, but he can’t help but feel irritated. He had been looking forward to speaking to Satoru the entire day and now that he has him in front of him, he has to wait ? 

“I see you pouting, you big baby. I’m almost done.” 

Suguru is not a big baby. He’s being perfectly reasonable. He feels awkward standing next to a seated Satoru, and he reasons he can go back to his chair and wait there. But. He doesn’t want to, he would much rather admire the way Satoru’s tongue peeks through his lips, eyes focused. 

Even with that maniac look on his face, Suguru finds him the most gorgeous person on Earth. He has already decided he is, indeed, bad in the head. Staring at Satoru has become one of his favourite activities in the entire world and he feels no shame in that. How can he, when his boyfriend looks like the personification of all the words poets and writers use when talking about beauty? 

The sudden exciting tune from Satoru’s phone pulls him out of trance. 

“All done,” Satoru says, satisfied. He pockets his phone and stands up. “Is my boyfriend mad I wasn’t paying attention to him?” He asks in that stupid baby voice he knows irritates Suguru. Instead of raising to the bait, Suguru just kisses him, arms enclosing Satoru’s waist to bring him closer to him. 

Satoru makes a surprised sound but quickly falls into rhythm with Suguru, eagerly kissing him back.  

“Hey,” Suguru says once they separate. 

“Hey, yourself,” Satoru replies, arms around Suguru’s shoulders. 

“I don’t like it when you are not being clingy,” the tattoo artist admits. 

Satoru rolls his eyes. 

“Just yesterday you were complaining about that, what are you talking about?” 

“I am now a wiser man than I was yesterday.” 

“Is that so?” Satoru plays with his boyfriend’s hair, running his fingers through the locks that managed to escape Suguru’s bun.

Suddenly, Suguru embraces Satoru, fully leaning into him. Like this, chest to chest, Suguru can feel the tiredness of the day slowly draining from his body. As if Satoru was soaking up all his ailments and purging him, breathing energy back into him by simply holding him. 

Satoru kisses his temple and hugs him tight. 

I am here, the force of his hold seems to say. I’m always here.  

Suguru sighs, content. It still surprises him how such a simple gesture manages to settle his heart, his mind.

The lyrics of that song Shoko kept playing in the shop suddenly ring in his head: 

The day after you stole my heart

Everything I touched told me

It would be better shared with you, with you

They make him smile. How true they are. 

Suguru hopes he gets to share the rest of his life with Satoru, too.