seraphicsuguru ⟡

𝓱usband!kento who presses a quick kiss to your temple every morning before leaving for work. it’s an unspoken habit, one he never forgets no matter how early he has to leave. if you stir awake while he’s pulling away from you, he’ll murmur a soft “go back to sleep, love” before slipping out the door.

𝓱usband!kento who speaks to you calmly even on his worst days!!! he could never bring himself to raise his voice at you no matter how tired or frustrated he was :( he absolutely refuses to let you become the outlet for his anger.

𝓱usband!kento who only shows his sense of humor around you. his dry, borderline terrible dad jokes that often make you snort are reserved solely for your ears. and when you tease him about how funny he actually is, he’ll only raise an eyebrow before saying, “i’ve got a reputation to maintain. can’t have others knowing i’m actually this amusing.”

𝓱usband!kento who notices when something’s wrong before you mention it. his gaze softening slightly before asking, “do you want to talk about it?” and if you don’t, he doesn’t push— instead he’ll stay patient until you’re ready to open up about whatever’s been bothering you.

𝓱usband!kento who listens to you ramble about anything and everything after a long day. he’ll loosen his tie, roll up his sleeves, and give you his full attention by keeping his eyes on you; nodding along to every word while actively hearing you talk about your day, your coworkers, or even the random documentary you watched the other time. kento loves hearing you speak even when you think you’re talking too much.

“can you hand me the screwdriver?” your neighbor, nanami kento, asked. he wiped his sweat dappled forehead using his shirt that he’d tossed aside, standing across from you shirtless as sweat dripped down his chest.

you almost couldn’t hear what he’d said, way too busy staring at him because what the hell?

that morning, before you’d driven off to the cafe, with all the easiness of a deserved off day for you’d worked nonstop all through the week, you were happy and content and peaceful.

until your gaze caught up on the steam creeping across the cool floor beneath the hood. and let out a horrified scream loud enough to wake the whole neighborhood up.

which, was also the reason your neighbor, nanami kento ended up on your garage, shirtless and sweating.

he talked about some hose clamp and how it loosened, but honestly, you were way too focused staring at his biceps to comprehend what he’d just said.

as he tightened the clamp, he uttered a silent “fuck,” his knuckles splashed with coolant and the warm breeze upon his bare chest made him slightly shiver. ‘this,’ you thought, ‘is the hottest thing i’ve ever seen.’

“what can i help with?” you asked him, purely out of courtesy. kento breathed heavily as he leaned into the car, his arms tightening along. at the beginning you’d wondered if it was that necessary for him to take his shirt off, now thinking again, it certainly was needed. it was a necessity. your eyes lingered on his arms.

“nothing really— it’s almost over anyway.” he muttered under his breath, his muscles still flexing along his every move. “that must’ve scared you.” he added.

“yeah, honestly, once i saw that steam i almost thought the car was gonna blow up.”

he laughed with a strained voice, and you thought how the dry summer air must’ve been making it unbearable, let alone the heated breeze fluttering through the garage here and there.

“thank you, really, you didn’t have to do this.” you kind of felt guilty about how he was wasting his whole weekend morning on fixing your car, but then again, it was him who’d rushed out of his house once he’d heard you scream. with his mug full of coffee on his hand. and his surprisingly cute slippers.

well, you’ve always known that he had a rather unique approach on fashion.

“don’t mention it. i had nothing better to do anyway.” he smiled up at you, his cheeks reddened with a slight flush. his hair was messy in a way that made your heart throb.

“hmm.” you tilted your head to watch him as the leak stopped dripping and he slowly rose up, the warm breeze rippled through the branches across the garage and summer sun stretched across his flushed skin with a soft glow.

he was finished. probably.

“really, thank you so much nanami-“ you tried but he cut you off.

“kento. please.” the words tumbled out as he ruffled his hair with a nervous urgency. although you’d been familiar with each other through years of silent good mornings and shy attempts at conversation, you’d never crossed that invisible distance before. you smiled warmly upon his words.

‘fuck, just go for it,’ you cheered for yourself. there was no way you were letting that shirtless man leave.

“thank you so much kento. genuinely-“ you bit your lip, “actually, i was just about to get my morning coffee. there’s a really nice place i know nearby. how about,” you fidgeted with your hands. “a thank you coffee? my treat.”

you breathed out the last words with such haste that even you couldn’t comprehend what you’d said for a few seconds.

“well, that’s a bit generous for just fixing your car, isn’t it?” he laughed gently.

“a coffee?”

“you.” oh.

with heat creeping into your skin, you giggled, avoiding his gaze. “no, i think i’d say it’s exactly what you’ve earned.”

you always offered to brush his hair. initially, geto politely declined, reasoning that there was no need for you to spend your spare time on him, and that he’s always preferred his hair a particular way. you told him the offer was always open, and that was that.

that was a few months into the first year, and, following the second year, geto came up to you, eyes mild, smile soft, if not a bit flustered, as he asked you if you would like to brush his hair. 

so, the two of you sit on the edge of his bed, and, with the brush he’s given to you, you put it to use. it’s soft to the touch, almost wispy, and a light scent clings to it, smoky, faint. an epitome of him, you thought. 

and from there, it becomes routine. as night sets in, and the skies grow dark, stars strewn, the moon in any shift of its phases, you’ll settle behind him, and take your time untangling his knots. the air, at first, is quiet, then gradually grows with small talk, then conversations, banter, laughter, smiles, and you grow close, closer.

geto retells one story after another about himself, gojo, and ieiri, and his eyes light up, smile broad, cheeks flushed, and outlined with a gentle shaft of moonlight as it sifts through the panels of his window, he was ethereal. you’ve looked forward to those nights, and, maybe, just maybe, so did he.

up until a point.

his hair comes apart in strands as you comb it, sorting out all the knots, nodes he’s managed to gather. it wasn’t always like this, no. not as messy. he used to care, but, between now and then, that bit of consideration dissipated. you hadn’t seen it soften his mild features since then, nor did it retain the warmth in his eyes.

quieter now, a bit reserved. his voice carries a foreign undertone you can’t decipher, and what little words he does say, it’s… it’s not like him. at least, not the geto suguru you knew.

even then, you brushed his hair. as tousled as it is, as unkempt, uncared for, you do it. because he still leans into your touch, because he lets out quiet hums here and there, as if, in this moment, he’s content; because when you pull back, when you face him, when you brush a few loose strands of hair framing his face, he gives you a smile that says more than he could spare. a ghost of it, yes, but it held a sliver of him you yearned to grasp.

those idyllic times meant a lot to you. you keep it close to your heart, even after a little more than a decade has passed. it refreshes itself, renews its simplicity of when the days were simpler, youthful. because that’s what he was then, just as much as you were, too.

the night grows quiet as the backdrop withdraws itself, until it’s you and the phantom presence of his hair in your hands, still so soft, still so silky, and how it felt to imagine, instead of the comb, it was your fingers through his hair. the whorls of your fingerprints, your fingertips, your hand pines for the innate warmth that was him.

and as the wind picks up, as the temperature drops, as you stand on your balcony, looking downwards at the din of tokyo, its tendrils gradually sweep away any remnants of warmth you were able to retain the past decade.

(and, nestled in a lavish room, adorned with rich plants, meticulous paintings, he brushes his own hair, and quietly ponders if would’ve lit up seeing how long it’s grown. more time to tidy it, more time it would need, more time with you here.)

ib this tiktok bcs i sobbed my eyes out seeing it

because you never truly knew him. you never got to.

your interactions with him had been limited from the beginning, and the rare sightings of him during your school years could count even less; but it was enough for suguru to leave his imprint on you.

whatever space he'd be in would be drowned by the warmth of his soul, cradled by the softness in his voice. an unswerving presence that captured your ability to look at anyone else.

suguru geto had managed to seize your heart from afar, ensnaring it simply by the way he was. the way you'll always remember him by.

his compassion seeped into the broken faith of many, giving them a new hope, a second chance, like a fire lighting up the way.

but like any fire, it's spark would flicker out, eventually. his compassion becoming the very thing eroding his heart until none would be left of it.

you couldn't blame suguru for leaving, no. but you wished you'd gotten more time with him before his soul would pass on and body be stolen.

now all that remained was the memory of him, and no amount of tears could fill up the hole he left behind, or answer the questions of what it could have been, given some time.

cw: nothing but fluff

JJK Masterlist

Childhood best friend Suguru who always waited for you after school. Even if his class ended earlier. Even if it meant standing under the same tree every day, backpack slung over one shoulder, waving when he saw you.

Childhood best friend Suguru who remembers the exact moment he decided you were “his person.” Maybe it was when you shared your snacks with him. Maybe it was when you defended him on the playground. He never forgot.

Childhood best friend Suguru who lets you call him by nicknames no one else is allowed to use. He pretends he doesn’t care, but his ears get warm every time.

Childhood best friend Suguru who always walked on the side of the sidewalk closest to the street. Even when you were kids. Even when he didn’t know why he did it he just wanted you safe.

Childhood best friend Suguru who kept every little thing you ever gave him. Friendship bracelets, doodles, a silly sticker all tucked away in a box he still has.

Childhood best friend Suguru who knows your tells better than anyone. The way your voice changes when you’re lying. The way you fidget when you’re nervous. The way you look away when you’re trying not to laugh.

Childhood best friend Suguru who lets you rant for hours because he’s been listening to you since you were both tiny. He knows when to nod, when to tease, and when to quietly hand you a snack.

Childhood best friend Suguru who teases you with the confidence of someone who’s known you forever. “You’ve been doing that since we were eight,” he’ll say with a grin that makes you shove his shoulder.

Childhood best friend Suguru who gets protective in a way that’s subtle but unshakeable. A hand on your backpack strap in crowded places. A quiet “text me when you get home.” A look that says he’ll handle anything that hurts you.

Childhood best friend Suguru who still remembers your childhood favorites. Your favorite candy, your favorite cartoon, the game you always cheated at. He brings them up just to see you smile.

Childhood best friend Suguru who lets you braid his hair because you used to do it when you were kids. He sits on the floor between your knees, eyes closed, trusting you completely.

Childhood best friend Suguru who laughs differently with you. Softer, freer, like he’s slipping back into the version of himself that only you ever got to see.

Childhood best friend Suguru who always shows up. Birthday? He’s there. Bad day? He’s there. Middle of the night “can we talk”? He’s already grabbing his jacket.

Childhood best friend Suguru who looks at you sometimes like he’s remembering every year you’ve spent together. Like he’s seeing the kid you were and the person you’ve become at the same time.