low tide

a/n: it’s 3 a.m., i should be asleep, but speyside came on and suddenly i was thinking about suguru. maybe it’s because i watched hidden inventory yesterday and reopened wounds that were healing just fine. maybe it’s because 16-17 year old geto suguru was genuinely trying his best and i’m unfortunately weak to that. and those stupid bangs stayed perfect through every terrible life choice he ever made 😭 anyway, i think what hurts most is that it’s a love so real it survived everything except reality itself. or maybe it’s grief. but then again, grief looks a lot like love from a distance.

song inspo: s p e y s i d e - bon iver

_________________________________________

the knock comes just after midnight. three sharp taps, a pause, then two more. a rhythm you haven’t heard in years and somehow recognise immediately. when you open the door, suguru looks exhausted, rain clinging to the loose strands of black hair framing his face, one hand pressed against his side where blood seeps through his fingers. his expression softens when he sees you. not relieved. not surprised. as though some part of him had always known you would answer. “you shouldn’t be here,” you say. the words sound weaker than they should. a faint smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. and yet… later, he’s sitting on your apartment floor while you kneel beside him with a first-aid kit, peeling back blood-soaked fabric and cleaning a wound just deep enough to hurt, just deep enough to leave a scar. the rain taps against the windows. your hands move from memory. his eyes never leave your face. “you don’t have to do this.” a tired laugh escapes you. “you’re bleeding on my floor.” his smile appears briefly, then fades. because that’s not what he meant. both of you know it.