𓇼 ⋆｡˚ 𓆝⋆｡˚ 𓇼

“Darling, I’m home!”

Your voice rang through the hall, far louder than necessary. Tommy stood, his jaw ticking as he moved toward you.

You were leaning against the wall, trying to toe off one heel, the other already abandoned halfway across the floor. Mascara slightly smudged, lipstick kissed off, hair a little mussed. And grinning like a fool.

“There she is,” Tommy murmured, catching you just as you wobbled forward. “The ghost of gin and bad decisions.”

You giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck with more force than finesse. “Tommy, love of my life, you’ve got two heads. When’d that happen?”

“You’re fuckin' pissed.”

“Who, me?” You hiccuped. “Absolutely. Gloriously. Marvellously.”

Tommy sighed, sliding his hands to your waist to steady you. “Let’s get you upstairs.”

“Wait!” You slapped your palm to his chest dramatically. “Did you miss me?”

He raised a brow. “You were gone for four hours.”

“That’s practically forever in marriage time, Mr. Shelby.”

“You reek of whiskey and trouble.”

“And you,” you whispered, poking his nose, “reek of brooding and disappointment.”

That earned a low chuckle. “Come on.”

He scooped you up—heels, purse, and all—despite your surprised squeal.

“Tommy! I’m a grown woman!”

“A grown woman who can’t walk straight,” he replied, carrying you up the stairs like it was nothing.

You nestled your head into the crook of his neck. “You’re strong. Like, stupidly strong. It’s hot.”

Tommy let out a small huff, trying not to smile. You always got talkative when drunk—sweet, unfiltered, messy. He both loved and hated it. Loved it because he got to see the softest corners of you. Hated it because something in him always felt like he didn’t deserve it.

Once in your shared bedroom, he sat you gently on the bed and knelt to unbuckle your shoes.

You swayed forward, fingers burying in his hair. “Tommy?”

“Hm?”

“You know I love you, right? Like… stupid, stupidly in love with you. I’d punch anyone in the throat who looked at you funny.”

“I know.” He looked up, eyes softer now. “You tell me every time you drink.”

“Well, then you should really believe it,” you said seriously.

He tugged your dress off gently, replacing it with one of his shirts, letting it fall to your thighs. You flopped onto the pillows with a sigh of contentment.

Tommy turned off the lights, slid in beside you, and pulled you to his chest.

“Thanks for not being mad,” you mumbled into him.

“I’m not mad,” he whispered into your hair. “Just glad you’re home.”

A pause.

“I brought you a sausage roll,” you murmured. “It’s in my purse. It’s probably squished.”

He laughed—actually laughed—and kissed your forehead.

“My girl,” he said quietly. “Drunk, messy, but always thinking of me.”

His hair is loose, and if you weren’t so distressed you might have felt a bit flustered, admired him. Seeing Aki vulnerable like that was a rare treat. 

But you were kind of preoccupied right now. Still standing in the doorway you feel a strange deja-vu, as if you’re 5 years old again and about to announce that you threw up. “Sorry, I, uh.” Your voice trails off, embarrassed by your situation. Now you truly felt like a child, what functioning adult gets upset by a- “Nightmare?” Aki sits up and rubs his eye with one hand, resting on his elbow. “I get them too.” It never dawned on you that your more experienced colleague would also suffer under this career. With how calm and collected he always seemed you just assumed he knew what he was doing. That the daily horror of working in public safety never got to him. But it did, he just admitted that it did. And for a second you’re not quite sure what to make of the world.

Can I stay with you? 

The question lingers on your lips, but you’re not quite brave enough to utter those words. Would it even be appropriate to slide into his bed? You’re co-workers, you’re only sleeping here because it was convenient after working overtime. The stretcher in the living room was soft enough, it felt just fine even though you kept nudging your pillow off of the mattress by accident. 

I mean you were already wearing a shirt of his. He gracefully lent that to you and the fabric hung loosely around your body. It smelled nice. Freshly washed mixed with Aki’s scent.

But a shirt was not enough. Your legs and feet were getting cold and to be honest you were also starting to feel tired again. 

You told Aki goodnight but were stopped from closing the door by his request. 

“Do you want to stay with me?” He asked, like he read your mind. Your heart skips a beat, but after some consideration you realised he did the same with Power and Denji when they were feeling unwell. Or were just bored and wanted to bother Aki, even in his sleep. 

It wasn’t romantic. Psh, of course not.

You shuffle through the room, only lit by the moonlight creeping past the curtains. It takes a bit, but once your eyes get used to the dark you find your place next to Aki. His bed could be considered big, it was just a tad bit smaller than a two-person bed. This meant, however, that there was little room between your bodies. You could practically feel Aki breathing and felt the warmth emanating off of him. It was relaxing. You didn’t want  to admit it but it was, very.

Aki’s pale blue eyes met yours and you didn’t know if it was your fuzzy brain feeding you delusions or the fact that it was just very dark, but his gaze seemed softer than it usually was. 

After a soft “Goodnight” Aki shuts his eyes. A few strands of hair trickle down his face, cascading across his nose and framing his jaw. He looks peaceful like this.

You inch just a bit closer, bringing your knees to your stomach and wedging one hand between your head and the pillow. And you watch, just for a bit longer before falling asleep.

A/N: I tried really hard to keep this in the main fic, but I just could NOT find a way to make it fit logically. Nonetheless I still enjoyed this scene and figured it could work as a standalone.

He rubs his eyes and seems just as shaken and confused as you are. Did you…? His eyeliner is smudged, you must’ve taken care of business immediately for him not to clean his face before bed like he usually does. After staring into nothing for a bit the memories of last night rush back. Fuzzy, but you remember now. Even if you hadn’t been able to recall anything, the marks on both your and Choso’s bodies were telltale signs of what went down last night. Fuck, he got you good.

You slide out of bed, mumbling something about the bathroom and collect your scattered clothes from off the floor. 

Once in the bathroom you rest one hand on the edge of the sink, the other holding your head. Turning on the light had proven to be a mistake. It felt like you were being hit with a stun grenade. 

At least you’ll get to play dress up coming Monday, picking between smearing concealer all over your neck or wearing something that hides all those hickeys. God forbid you walk onto campus like this. 

Your reflection stares back at you full of judgement. 

Water. You need water. Forming a cup with your hands you quickly drink before the liquid makes its way through your fingers and down the drain. After that you wash your face for good measure. The cool water clears your mind a little.

Should you take a shower? You want to, but maybe that would be overstaying your welcome. You shiver. Oh my god what have you done?

But it wasn’t bad. No, not bad at all. Quite a surprise, actually. You never anticipated Choso being such a freak. Sure, you’ve thought about scenarios like this, maybe more than you would like to admit. But you would’ve never taken such a risk as you did last night. Not sober, anyway, as has become apparent.

Right there you make a vow to yourself to not speak of this again. Having sex with your friends is what ruins lives. And you don’t want to lose Choso.

Once you’ve freshened yourself up you slip out of Choso’s apartment, not saying another word. 

The day you first met Choso started as an awful one. After hearing the words “group project” spat out of your professor’s mouth you groan and hide your face into your hands. You don’t even get to pick your teammates. You’re not the only one upset, all around you you hear small noises of protest from your classmates. Nobody likes them, and yet for some reason professors love to hand these kinds of assignments out. 

The list with group divisions appears on the giant screen in front of the lecture hall. Great, you’ll be stuck with a guy you don’t know at all and a girl that literally never shows up.

You peer over your shoulder, finding the aforementioned guy already looking your way. He’s got dark brown eyes -accentuated by eyebags that will probably never go away no matter how well he sleeps- that somehow still manage to pierce through your soul. His black hair is always done up in these spiky pigtails. Probably some alternative hairstyle that is really cool in his scene, or something. But what really sticks out about his appearance is the black stripe across his nose. A tattoo, you assume. Unusual but admittedly, it suits his face. He’s tall, wearing thick platform boots every day and all-in-all has a reputation of being kind of scary. Help…

The first time working together had you nearly puking in the college library toilet out of nerves. But you sucked it up, and decided to be brave. Plus you really needed to pass this class, so it’s not like you have a choice… How scary can this be? He’s just a guy after all.

Later you found out that despite his intimidating aura, Choso is actually pretty chill. He’s patient with you, soft spoken and while he isn’t really able to properly explain it to you he really understands the study material.

As expected, your missing third member never shows up. But you don’t even need her, Choso and you manage just fine. If anything you’re thankful for miss flaker to stay out of this, spending time alone with Choso is much more fun than you ever imagined. 

After a week you catch yourself getting excited for a class you would normally rather jump into traffic for. You weren’t falling for your mysterious, goth classmate were you? Well, by the way your heart flutters when he greets you, you could confirm that -shit- you were.

Getting to know Choso proved to be difficult though. While he spoke about school and assignments just fine, he initially didn’t reveal anything about himself. It felt like trying to break through a concrete wall with just a kitchen fork. What movies did he like? What are his favourite songs? It was all so close yet just out of reach. 

But once you got him to mention his brothers you could piece together some of Choso’s personal life. Talking about himself didn’t seem to be his strong suit, but talking about his brothers? That was a whole different story.

“Oh yeah, I went to their concert with my brother.” So he likes that band… score. 

“I saw that movie with Yuji once, it was good.” You added it to your watchlist later that evening.

He has ten brothers, which is insane, and a dad who is kind of an ass (evidently). Choso’s the oldest, which could explain why he seems somewhat nurturing at times, and most of his brothers are scattered around the country doing their own thing. Half-brothers, really. But to Choso they are family all the same.

The youngest, Yuji, lives with his grandfather just around the corner from Choso’s place and they see each other a few times a week. Even though you’re curious about him, it would take a while before you actually met Yuji at a movie theater.

After a month the group assignment is done -with a passing grade at that- and you fear that this is where you go your separate ways again. Choso always sits alone -he doesn’t seem to mind it- and you expect him to go back to his quiet and mysterious persona now that you’re not forced to get along.

And at first he does. 

A week goes by and neither of you speak to each other, and you fear all those times you got him to open up the past month were just a facade. Weirdly enough, you really miss him. There was way more where that came from and you’re not ready for Choso to fade into obscurity again. So when he suddenly spawns in front of you with your favourite drink when you were sitting alone on campus, you’re nearly unable to hide your excitement. 

By the end of the year you’re as close as friends can be, and it silently kills you inside. Waiting for Choso to make the first move is like watching paint dry, you might reach the goal but it’ll take you a century to get there. Maybe he doesn’t even like you that way, and the fear of losing such a great friend keeps you from doing anything impulsive. Still, the way his gaze lingers on you longer than is socially acceptable, the moments where your knees touch and neither of you pull away, the quiet nights together in his apartment where nothing really happens yet still there’s a certain tension in the air… It all must mean something, no?

Parties were never really your idea of fun, but when a girl from your class invites you to one you decide to go. It would be a good way to get to know other people on campus, but you don’t want to go alone…

Choso agrees to come with you, even though he probably wouldn’t have gone if you weren’t going to be there. Your classmate had invited him -she acted like he was going to bite her head off- and he had politely declined before. 

But here he’s stood on the doorstep of the specified address, next to you. 

“You look nice.” He says, doing a quick up-and-down look before clearing his throat and turning away.

Inside it’s crowded, looks like the hosts invited more people than their home could support. Choso’s hand rests on the small of your back as you shuffle through the crowd. The warmth of his palm seeps through the fabric of your top. It’s such a small gesture, but it gets you way more worked up than you’d like to admit. Whenever Choso does something like this, it reminds you just how touch starved you really are. 

The kitchen is much emptier, and Choso has the space to let go of you. Bummer.

Drink, you need a drink to let loose. You’re way too on edge for this. Choso isn’t helping at all. At the door you noticed he was wearing eyeliner, and fuck does it look hot. Why didn’t he do so more often?

After a few shots you feel better, lighter. The world is not spinning quite yet but walking in a straight line takes more concentration than it would sober. It’s time to dance. 

Choso slips back in front of you when he notices you’re on your way out, grabbing your hand to not lose you. At first glance it looks like he’s just leading you around like a guard dog, which yeah, he is. But he also probably just doesn’t want to be left alone at a party where he hardly knows anyone. 

Choso’s palm is pressed against yours, your fingers intertwined as you squeeze past wasted college students. The music is turned up to the max, people are singing along and stumbling around a make-shift cardboard dance floor.

The music sucks, but you don’t care. Throughout the night you fluctuate between the shoddy dance floor and the kitchen to drink. Song after song plays, yet they all sound kind of the same. This doesn’t make them less danceable though. 

The world spins and you can’t think straight anymore, choso’s face also looks quite flushed. His pupils are blown out, you blame it on the alcohol. 

“Why’re you not dancing?!” You yell above the music. “This isn’t really my thing!” He slurs back. 

You scoff and grab his hands, moving them along with your drunken dance moves. “At least try to have some fun!”

He rolls his eyes with a smirk and follows your lead, moving around a bit more than before but still putting in minimal effort. More songs pass, the people around you all seem to know the lyrics. They scream along, or at least try to. Most of them have lost their voice by now. What time is it anyway? Doesn’t matter, you’d like another drink. 

A new track starts playing, seemingly a different genre than most of the other songs that have appeared tonight since Choso’s head perks up. You chuckle at his sudden reaction. “You know this one?!”

“Yeah!”

“Will you dance with me then?!”

Choso laughs and nods, finally putting some energy into his steps. In your intoxicated haze it feels like you’re absolutely tearing up the dancefloor, all the while not letting go of Choso’s hands. Finally he seems to have shaken off the edge as well. He should let loose more often. In truth though, he wouldn’t mind standing by and watching you, as long as he gets to be around you he’s content.

One of his hair ties is nearly falling out, the bun unravelling before your eyes. You rest your arms on his shoulders, pulling closer and tiptoe to release his hair. Your fingers brush through his black strands while your head rests under his chin. Choso’s heart is nearly beating out of his chest, or are you imagining things? Ugh it’s hard to make sense of anything right now. How many drinks have you had anyway…

You look up when you feel his hands hesitantly move to your hips. Choso stares back down, his bangs sticking to his sweaty forehead and his face flushed pink. You hold his face, your thumb tracing across his tattoo and before you’re even aware of it yourself you kiss him. You can feel his breath hitch before he reciprocates. Kissing back slowly, but growing more passionate by the second like a starved man.

All the other people around you seem to disappear, you’re only aware of Choso. The rest of the night is kind of a blur, as if you were possessed by a far hornier version of yourself that is usually pushed far away. 

The rest is a blur.

Sure, you remember bits and pieces and also take note of the fact that you’re even more flustered around Choso now, but it’s not much. 

But after that day you woke up in his bed, covered in his marks, he disappeared again. Just like he did in the first month you met. You tried calling him, but he didn’t pick up and on campus he avoids you. 

Pissed off, you decide to face confrontation head on. It’s been a week and at least now you know Choso’s not that scary. You want to know where you stand. Have the ‘what are we?’ talk, maybe slap him across the face for going ghost again. You’ll see how you feel when you get there.

Choso’s usual gym wasn’t very crowded this evening. There were 6 people total, including you, Yuji and him. Your arms rest on the half-wall that separates the sports area from the rest of the gym. Watching Choso beat the punching bag over and over, you didn’t notice Yuji basically spawning behind you. He gently baps you on the head with one of his boxing gloves, finally catching your attention. “What are you doing here?” He asks, clearly confused. You scoff internally. Is it that unbelievable to see you in a gym?

Yuji is young, about four years younger than Choso, maybe. Still in highschool and a talented athlete. If Choso jumps high, Yuji jumps higher. If Choso punches hard, Yuji punches harder. It appears he’s able to outdo his brother in everything. Not that Choso seems to mind. Actually, he seems very proud of the pink haired kid’s abilities. 

“I have some business to discuss with your brother. College stuff, very boring.” You lie and fix your hair. 

“I hope you’re not asking him for help, ‘cause he sucks at explaining.” Yuji turns toward Choso, who is still laser focussed on killing the poor punching bag. “And then, uhm. You kind of add this and it’ll, uhh…” Yuji lowers his voice by an octave to mock the way his brother tutors him.

“I know.” You chuckle, dragging out your vowels. “Nah, we’re just reviewing something. Like I said, very boring.” 

Yuji didn’t need to know that you pulled all of this out your ass. He nods with an understanding pout. 

“Choso! Catch!” The boy yells as he throws a boxing glove toward his brother, conveniently right when he’s taking a sip of water. Choso manages to catch it without spilling the bottle all over himself. But when he turns to face his assailant he nearly chokes. 

You, of all people, coming here was something he didn’t expect. Were you here to chew him out? Say you’ll never want to see him again after what happened? His mind was racing as he reluctantly came over. Dragging his feet and keeping his eyes to the ground.

“Here.” He gave Yuji his glove back and turned to you, meeting your eyes only briefly.

“Choso, can we talk later? I’ll be waiting outside, by the back door.” You say, pushing yourself away from the wall. He mutters an “okay” and turns to Yuji, who really wants to spar. You curse yourself, Choso getting all worked up and sweaty was something you’d love to see again. But no, you force yourself out of the building.

You close the door behind you and let the cool evening air wash over you. There are already some stars in the dark blue sky and a half moon greets you kindly from space. 

The gym building, old as it is, has those indented windows with a slope you can sit on. They’re not meant to be sat on, but everyone and their mother does it anyway. 

Moths and other bugs swarm the single streetlight posted near the back door. You take your place on the forbidden window seat and wrap your arms around your legs. Choso should be here soon, it’s not like him to ghost you after you’ve confronted him directly. Besides, Yuji would pressure him to go see you. His younger brother is too dense to sense the tension between the two of you, but he knows you’re good friends and won’t stand for Choso chickening out of a conversation like he tends to do so often.

Your head perks up when the door opens, but you deflate when two strangers appear. They pat each other on the back and plan a night out for tomorrow. Then they fade into the evening. It’s Friday after all. Usually you’d be planning something with Choso by now. Maybe if you set this right there’ll be room for plans again. 

With a low sigh you scratch some of the brittle cement from between the bricks. You’ve been sitting here for about fifteen minutes now. 

When the door opens a second time you don’t react, expecting it to be another random gym bro. But when Choso clears his throat you freeze. 

Damnit, you promised yourself you wouldn't make this awkward. But the way he stands here before you, hair loose and damp from the shower, strands sticking to his forehead and his face still tinted pink from exercising , it only reminds you of last week. 

It seems Choso’s words also caught in his throat, because he turns away from you, poorly hiding how red he’s turning and leans against the wall next to your window. 

For a moment it’s quiet, with the exception of the bugs trying to break into the streetlight. The soft dink! Dink! Dink! Of their bodies against glass is annoying enough for you to open your mouth and break the silence. 

“How’d the sparring match go?” You ask to lighten the mood.

“I lost.” He simply replies, still not looking at you. You don’t have to know that he couldn’t concentrate on beating up his brother. 

“Ah.” Silence again.

“So, uhm.” you mutter, rapidly trying to collect your thoughts. “About what happened,  you know…”

Choso crosses his arms tighter and chews some loose skin off of his bottom lip, his eyes glued to the ground. 

“Oh, yeah. Sorry about that, I-”

“No, no it’s okay.” You pause for a second, taking a deep breath before continuing in a softer tone of voice. “I liked it.”

“Hm?” 

You know damn well Choso heard you, why is he making you say it again? The possibility of him simply not registering your words doesn’t really dawn on you. 

Leaning your head against the cold bricks somewhat cools you down. Blood rapidly rushes anywhere but your brain and the pounding of your heart combined with the warmth of your cheeks is insanely distracting. 

“I keep thinking about it. About you. And…”

You backtrack and shake your head. What are you doing, saying things like this? That promise you made to yourself about taking this to the grave didn’t last long at all. 

“Agh, sorry for even bringing this up.” You slide off the windowsill and prepare to run away from your feelings once more. “Goodnight.”

“No.” Choso grabs you by the wrist before you get the chance to leave. You turn to face him, stomach doing a somersault. He held your wrists like that last week too, only then you were being pressed into a mattress getting your world rocked. 

“Me too.”

“What?”

“I can’t stop thinking about you. You’re always in the back of my mind, even more than before.”

“More than befo-  Choso what are you saying?” 

All this time he had been feeling the same. You had turned yourself inside out over absolutely nothing! The sly bastard. 

His dark eyes meet yours, but he doesn’t seem to have the courage to hold eye contact and quickly looks away again. He lets your wrist go with a sigh.

“I’m sorry I avoided you.” He says. “I was afraid of what you’d say.”

You nod knowingly. “Yeah, same here.”

Choso finally meets your gaze, looking not too different from a kicked puppy. “Please tell me you meant something behind everything we did that night. I can’t go on pretending like it all never happened.”

Neither could you. Going back to normal after fucking the guy you wanted to fuck for months on end? Impossible. You’d probably pass away from heart failure, or something. 

You violently shake your head. “No, Choso, I… I really like you. I meant everything, even if I wasn’t sober.”

“Really?” 

You’ve never seen him so relieved, he’s almost crying. He embraces you, and if he didn’t look so happy you’d think he was trying to crush you to a pulp. “I like you too. So much.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

You smile into his shoulder and snake your arms underneath his to hug him back. His face hides away in the crook of your neck and for a moment you’re just stood there, frozen. 

Choso shifts his weight, turning his head to look at you. His eyes dart between your eyes and your lips and you chuckle. Pulling yourself impossibly closer to him, you tip-toe and bring your face toward his, eyes locked on his lips. 

“Sorry,” He pulls away, leaving you internally screaming. It’s almost as if he did that on purpose to tease you. God this guy stressed you out in the best way possible. “Can we pretend like it’s the first time?” 

“Of course.” You reply, your voice not more than a whisper. You don’t remember much of the actual first kiss anyway. 

He chuckles softly while trying to find a comfortable angle, tilting his head left, then right. When his nose bumps into yours he decides to just gently hold your face in place. His thumb swipes across your cheek when his eyes meet yours. Then he leans in and kisses you. Tender, softly and oh how you’ve missed him.

Reluctantly you break the kiss, holding his chin and swiping across his lower lip with your thumb. He’s like putty in your hands. 

“Hey, Choso. Please don’t avoid me next time there’s a hard conversation to be had, okay?” 

He nods with a groan. “I’m sorry. I’ll work on that.”

You hum affirmatively. “We’ll get back to that tomorrow. It’s late.”

“How about I take you out, as in like a date. To apologise.” Choso’s eyes darted toward his feet. He really, truly feels awful about his behaviour. You tilt your head, pretending to consider his offer. As if you haven’t been waiting for this moment the second you realised how you felt. But after everything, playing around a little like this is the least you’re allowed.

“You Promise?” 

“I Promise.”

“I’m actually so surprised at how good that shade of lipstick looks on you!” Shoko exclaims, clasping her hands together. “And the eyeshadow brings out your eyes so well, you should wear this more often. I’m so serious.”

When he watches a genuine smile appear on Suguru’s face, Satoru finds out that agrees. The longer he stares the more this weird, aching feeling in his chest overwhelms him. He watches Shoko hold up a mirror. Suguru bats his eyelashes at his reflection and throws his hair over his shoulder. Oh, he’s really into this. The way he turns his head, checking both sides of his face. The way he plays with his silky black hair. The way he blows himself a kiss, and suddenly Satoru wishes it was aimed his way instead. 

Pause. Forget that. It’ll make things more complicated than they should be.

Noticing that Satoru hasn’t said a single word, both Shoko and Suguru turn toward him.

“Well,” Suguru says, hands on his hips “what do you think?”

Satoru scrambles words together in his brain, desperately trying to form a sentence that doesn’t give away the inner battle he’s fighting right now. All he manages to get out is a strained “you look… nice.”

God is he glad he’s wearing his glasses right now. Neither of his friends in front of him know where he’s looking.

“Should I take your picture?” Shoko asks, grabbing a digital camera off the counter. She must’ve noticed the tension radiating off of Satoru, and decided to bring the attention back to The Nurse. 

It’s like everything in front of Satoru is happening behind a glass window, like he’s not in the room right now. Suguru strikes a few poses, then suddenly flops down right next to Satoru on the couch, arm on the headrest. 

“What, did my beauty leave you speechless?” Suguru teases, and Satoru refuses to look at him. 

Maybe. No, it’s true actually. Suguru’s always been handsome, attractive even. And when he’s all dolled up like this, Satoru can’t ignore that fact anymore, and it’s sending him into a spiral. Is this normal? Everyone feels like this about their friend crossdressing, right?

Shoko takes another picture, the flash startles Satoru. He must look like a deer in headlights, balling his fists so the tent in his pants doesn’t grow any bigger. He’s in deep trouble, and not subtle about it at all.

The woman next to him is not real, she never will be. And once the makeup comes off and the costume will be thrown back in the closet, she’ll never come back again. Satoru will miss her dearly. He’ll miss her when he’s lying in his bed tonight, and for many nights to come. 

If Suguru came to his dorm dressed up like this and completely surrendered himself to Satoru’s will, god knows the things he’d do. 

“Will you be wearing this to the party?” Shoko asks.

Please say yes. Say yes. Oh my god, say yes… Thoughts bounce through Satoru’s head. Thoughts he shouldn’t be thinking, paired with feelings he shouldn’t be feeling.

Suguru laughs, throwing his head back. “You know, actually? I just might.”

Satoru’s heart skips a beat, then it sinks to his ass. The thought of getting to be around Suguru all night while he looks like this is exciting, but Satoru can’t predict how he will act once the first drop of booze enters his system. There’s an astronomically big chance he will do something he might regret.

“You should!” Shoko replies, snapping another picture. “Just let me know, I’ll do your makeup again.” Even though she hardly wears any makeup herself, Shoko really knows how to bring out someone’s most stunning features. Satoru feels a sting of jealousy at the thought of her all up in Suguru’s face. 

What is happening to him?

These feelings are not new, far from it. They’ve been buried deep, deep inside his body. Pushed away in drawers he doesn’t dare to open again. And they festered there for years, growing despite all his efforts to make them disappear.

This random Wednesday brought everything back to the front of his mind. Like a dam broke, flooding Satoru and drowning him in everything he ran away from so desperately. And something tells him it won’t be so easy to push them back down this time.

He could never tell Suguru, afraid of how he’d react. Would he be angry? Or worse, disgusted? The uncertainty is too much to bear. 

He’s never heard Suguru say anything about men, or anyone for that matter. There’s no way Satoru is able to tell if there’s even a slight chance of success. And even if Suguru reciprocates whatever’s going on here, what would come next? Satoru’s never dated before. He doesn’t know what it’s like. Would he have to start acting differently? More macho? More-

“Earth to Satoru?”

Satoru nearly jumps out of his skin at the sound of his name. “Yes?”

“What do you think?” Shoko crosses her arms, giving the white haired guy a look he can’t quite decipher. 

“Uhm.” Whatever you do, don’t turn bright red. “I think he should wear it. As a joke, you know. It would be funny.”

“Then it’s settled!”

Satoru knows that after the party he will never see this version of Suguru again, and he notes to himself to take in the sight before it’s lost forever. 

At least Shoko always prints her pictures. Maybe one of them will mysteriously disappear. They’ll never find it under Satoru’s pillow.

Whatever Satoru is feeling right now - has been feeling for a long time - it will probably never go away. If he doesn't take action, he might just hurt forever. Maybe, one day, he will get over his cowardice. Maybe then he can feel complete. Maybe.

A/N: Does he know it’s legal now.