Best friend Satoru has started dating but why does it bother you so much?
You spent the next few hours doing everything humanly possible to avoid thinking about Satoru. Unfortunately, every single thing seemed to lead back to him.
The worst part was that you felt like an absolute douchebag. Every time the ugly feeling in your chest resurfaced, every time you caught yourself wondering where he was, what he was doing, whether he was laughing or whether the date was going well, guilt immediately followed. Because what exactly gave you the right to feel this way? You had been on dates before. Plenty of them, actually. Some good, some terrible, some so painfully awkward that you had called Satoru the second you got home just to complain about them. Never once had he made you feel guilty for it. Never once had he questioned where you were going or who you were seeing. He would ask how it went, ask whether the guy was nice, whether you had fun, whether you planned on seeing him again, and then move on with his life.
There had always been an unspoken boundary between the two of you when it came to those things. Neither of you discussed details. Neither of you pried. It was respectful, comfortable, and had worked perfectly fine for years.
Which was exactly why this felt so unfair. Satoru was doing absolutely nothing wrong. You were the problem. So you tried distracting yourself.
You made dinner. You cleaned your kitchen. You folded laundry that had been sitting untouched for nearly a week.
When none of that worked, you eventually gave up and decided to watch Hail Mary, a movie you both had been looking forward to for months.
That lasted all of ten minutes. The film wasn’t even bad. In fact, from what little you managed to focus on, it was genuinely interesting. But every few scenes, some scientific explanation would pop up, and your immediate thought would be, if Satoru was here, he’d explain whatever’s happening on the screen to you in great detail.
You could practically hear him already. Some long-winded explanation about astrophysics that would start with a simple answer and somehow spiral into a forty-minute lecture that only he would find reasonable.
You paused the movie. Then resumed it. Then paused it again. Then rewind because you had completely missed what happened.
At one point you realized you had been staring at the same scene for nearly five minutes while thinking about absolutely nothing except the fact that you had originally wanted to watch it with him.
“Jesus Christ,” you muttered, dropping your head against the couch cushion. Everything was about Satoru. The movie. The silence. The evening. The fact that he wasn’t here. The fact that he was somewhere else. With someone else. Before your thoughts could continue spiraling, you grabbed your phone and called the first person who came to mind.
Shoko answered on the third ring.
A brief pause. Then, “Sure.”
Twenty minutes later, you found yourself pulling on the nearest hoodie you could find, which unfortunately happened to belong to Satoru. You didn’t even realize it until it was already over your head. The familiar scent hit you almost immediately and for a second you considered changing into something else.
You didn’t. Mostly because that felt pathetic. Although, if you were being honest, pretty much everything about tonight felt pathetic.
You stared at yourself in the mirror while shoving your feet into your ugliest pair of Crocs and suddenly found yourself wondering how long it would take before you had to stop doing this. Stop stealing his hoodies. Stop treating his apartment like an extension of your own. Stop assuming there would always be room for you in every corner of his life.
Because if this date went well, eventually you’d meet her. That was how these things worked in relationships. She’d become his girlfriend. She’d meet your friends.
You’d smile. Shake her hand. Pretend your heart wasn’t actively trying to claw its way out of your chest. The thought alone made you feel sick.
By the time Shoko opened her apartment door, your mood had somehow worsened. She took one look at you and raised an eyebrow.
You rolled your eyes and stepped inside.
Shoko continued staring. “What, are you on your period?”
“Nah. I think it’s close, though.”
“Hm.” The apartment was surprisingly clean. Suspiciously clean for Shoko to be honest. You glanced around before looking at her.
“Your place looks surprisingly nice today. What miracle happened?”
Shoko immediately pointed toward the door. “Are you here to slander me?” Ignoring her entirely, you headed straight for the fridge.
You settled for water instead, filling a glass before dropping onto the couch. For a few moments neither of you spoke. Shoko watched. You avoided eye contact. Eventually she sighed.
You scoffed. “I can’t just visit my friend?”
You took a long sip of water. Shoko crossed her arms.
“Where’s your other half?”
You groaned immediately. “Can you stop calling him that?”
“Okay then. Where is he?” For a moment, the room fell quiet. Then you looked down at your glass.
The reaction was immediate. Shoko’s eyes widened. Then she let out a slow breath.
“Which is why you look like shit.” Your mouth dropped open.
“Are you serious?” She looked genuinely offended.
“No. Seriously. Come on.” You looked away immediately. Because suddenly the floor seemed incredibly interesting. Shoko, unfortunately, wasn’t letting you escape.
“Can we drop the act already?”
“The one where you’re pretending you don’t know what’s wrong.” You frowned.
“I don’t know what you want me to say.” She stared directly into your eyes. And then, with absolutely no hesitation whatsoever, she said, “Go tell your best friend you’re in love with him.”
The words hit you so hard that for a second you genuinely forgot how to breathe.
“Because you’re in love with him.” You laughed. The sound came out strained. Almost desperate.
“Baby, you’re wearing his hoodie while having an emotional breakdown because he’s on one date.”
“That is not what’s happening.”
“That is exactly what’s happening.” You buried your face in your hands.
“This is insane.” You stayed quiet. Because part of you hated how easily she said it. Like it was obvious. Like everyone knew except you.
“He is literally out on a date right now,” you finally muttered. “I’m not gonna ruin that.” Shoko stared at you. Then laughed.
“Shoko, I don’t want to talk about him anymore.”
Silence settled between you. For a few moments, neither of you spoke. Then eventually you sighed. A tired, exhausted sound. “I don’t know what to do, it feels weird”.
Shoko’s expression softened slightly. “There’s nothing weird about this.”
“Only because you’re emotionally constipated.”
“What about him? He’s never said anything.” Your voice dropped quieter. More vulnerable. “What if this is just me?”
Shoko didn’t answer immediately. You continued.
“What if I tell him and he doesn’t feel the same for me? What if I ruin everything? What if I lose my best friend because I got confused and decided to say something stupid?”
The fears sounded ridiculous once spoken aloud. But somehow they felt even worse now. “What if I completely destroy the most important friendship I’ve ever had?”
Shoko sighed. “You think way too much.”
You looked at her. And for once, she wasn’t teasing. “If you’re not ready, don’t tell him yet.”
Then she shrugged. “Maybe wait. See how things go.” The answer should have comforted you. Instead it made your stomach feel twisted.
Because there was only one problem with waiting. “What if it goes well?” The words escaped before you could stop them.
“What if the date goes really well, Shoko?”
Neither of you spoke for a moment. Then suddenly your phone lit up. An Instagram notification. Your heart immediately lurched. Satoru had posted a story. You opened it before you could stop yourself. And immediately wished you hadn’t. It wasn’t anything over the top.
No pictures together. No faces. No romantic caption either. Just a photo from the restaurant.
Your staple restaurant. The place you and Satoru practically lived in. The place that knew your usual orders before you even sat down.
His food sat on the table. And across from him, partially visible in the corner of the frame, was a woman’s hand.
Elegant and pretty with short manicured nails. Long fingers wrapped around a drink. Nothing more.
Yet somehow it felt like a punch to the stomach. You stared at it. Far longer than you should have.
“He just posted?” Shoko asked. You silently handed her the phone. She glanced at it. Then looked back at you. “He’s literally just out.”
You swallowed. Suddenly feeling exhausted.
You stood and looked back to see that Shoko was frowning. “You leaving already?”
For a moment, the offer sounded tempting. Then you shook your head.
“No.” Because as comforting as Shoko’s apartment was, all you really wanted was your own bed. Your own space. Your own thoughts. Even if those thoughts were currently ruining your life.
So twenty minutes later, you found yourself walking home through the cool night air, hands buried deep inside the sleeves of Satoru’s hoodie, completely aware that his apartment was only ten minutes away.
Eleven o’clock on Friday nights had always belonged to Satoru.
You realized that sometime around midnight when you were lying in bed staring at the ceiling, your phone resting face down on the mattress beside you. It wasn’t some official arrangement the two of you had made. Nobody had ever sat down and declared Friday nights sacred. It had simply happened over the years. Sometimes you ordered pizza. Sometimes it was takeout from that noodle place both of you loved. Sometimes one of you would show up at the other’s apartment carrying snacks and demanding a movie marathon. There had been entire Friday nights spent doing absolutely nothing except existing in the same room together, each occupied with your own thing while occasionally exchanging commentary about whatever ridiculous thought crossed your minds.
But tonight was different. Tonight, Satoru was on a date. And somehow that simple fact managed to make your apartment feel emptier than it actually was.
The thing that bothered you most was the silence.
Normally, if Satoru went anywhere interesting, your phone would be unusable within twenty minutes. He texted like he breathed. Constantly. Endlessly. You knew every minor inconvenience that happened during his day because he insisted on documenting all of them. He sent photos of food. Photos of random animals he encountered on the street. Photos of clouds that looked funny. There were entire conversations saved in your messages that consisted of nothing except him complaining about basketball practice or showing you memes at three in the morning.
Tonight there was nothing.
No random texts, no complaints, no photos either. And that silence felt louder than anything else. Because if Satoru wasn’t texting you, then he was occupied.
And if he was occupied, then that probably meant the date was going well. The realization sat heavily in your chest. Of course it was going well. Satoru has always been a real charmer.
He was funny. Kind. Smart. Ridiculously attractive. Any girl would be lucky to have him. The thought alone made you want to punch a wall.
Eventually, exhausted by your own thoughts, you buried yourself beneath your blankets and forced yourself to sleep because surely there wasn’t a single problem in existence that couldn’t be made slightly more tolerable after a decent nap.
Unfortunately, when you woke up the next morning, the problem was still there. And there was still no text from Satoru.
You stared at your phone for a long moment while your coffee brewed.
No good morning. No update. No stupid meme. Complete silence. The rational part of your brain immediately came up with explanations.
Maybe he slept late. Maybe he was busy. Maybe he forgot. Maybe he woke up late in her bed... That last possibility made your stomach turn.
Because eventually, wasn’t this exactly what was supposed to happen? He was allowed to fall in love, find a partner.
Nobody wanted their boyfriend texting his female best friend twenty-four hours a day. Nobody wanted to compete with a friendship that had existed for years.
Eventually there would be boundaries. Eventually there would be distance. Eventually you would stop being the first person he texted every morning And perhaps the most painful part was realizing that nobody was actually doing anything wrong.
This wasn’t betrayal. This wasn’t abandonment. This was life. This was what growing up looked like. You just hated it.
The thought lingered with you while you made breakfast. Two fried eggs, coffee, your vitamins lined up beside the plate. You forced yourself to eat despite having little appetite. Then you got dressed.
Normally you didn’t care that much. University wasn’t a fashion show for you. Most days you grabbed the first thing available and called it a day. Today was different. Today, despite everything, some stubborn part of you wanted to look nice.
You hated that too. So you picked a top that complimented your figure, threw on a pair of baggy jeans, pulled your hair into a messy bun, slipped into your favorite shoes, and headed for campus.
The entire way there, you kept telling yourself not to think about him. The entire way there, you failed.
By the time you reached your locker, your eyes were already drifting every few seconds. Because usually he was there. Usually Satoru would walk with you before class.
Usually he would find some excuse to steal your coffee and still call it disgusting knowing that it would always be bitter. Usually there would be a conversation. Today there wasn’t any of it.
Maybe he did wake up late beside somebody else.
The thought hit so violently that you physically flinched. Immediately disgusted with yourself. Immediately shoving the image away. You put your AirPods in. Went to walk towards your class. Focused on your notes. Focused on literally anything except the constant ache sitting somewhere beneath your ribs.
It worked until lunch. Because the moment you stepped outside, there he was.
Standing exactly where he always stood. Like nothing had changed. Like the last twenty-four hours hadn’t completely wrecked your emotional stability.
Your stomach betrayed you instantly. He looked tired. Not exhausted. Just slightly off.
His hair was messier than usual. A pair of sunglasses rested on top of his head. He wore a white shirt beneath a grey sweater, loose blue jeans hanging comfortably from his frame.
And for some reason, today you noticed everything. Which felt incredibly unfair.
You hated how relieved you felt hearing his voice.
Something shifted across his expression. Not quite a smile. Not quite anything else.
The conversation suddenly felt awkward in a way it never had before. “Wanna grab lunch?” he asked.
And just like that, the two of you started walking. For a few moments neither of you spoke. Then, because apparently self-destruction was your favorite hobby, you asked the question anyway.
“How was the date?” The effect was immediate. A faint blush crept across his cheeks. His hand moved to the back of his neck.
And suddenly your heart sank straight into your stomach. Because that wasn’t the reaction of somebody who had a terrible time.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “It was good.”
“I’d say it went pretty well.” The smile you forced onto your face felt painful. “Oh. That’s awesome.” You could practically hear your heart breaking.
“What did you guys do?” He looked away briefly.
“We had dinner. Got ice cream after. Walked around for a bit and all you know…His smile softened. Then came the final blow.
“We’ll probably go out again.”
Suddenly it wasn’t just one date. It wasn’t just a possibility. It was becoming something. Something real. Something permanent. Something that might eventually take your place.
“That’s amazing.” Your voice sounded strange when you heard it out loud.
“I’m happy for you, Satoru.” You weren’t sure if he believed you. You barely believed yourself. The silence stretched. And if you stayed any longer, you were going to cry.
Right there in the middle of campus. In front of him. So before your emotions could completely betray you, you adjusted your bag and forced another smile.
“I completely forgot. I have somewhere to be.”
Confusion immediately crossed his face.
“Weren’t we getting lunch?”
“Rain check.” You took a step backward. Then another. Every instinct screaming at you to leave. To get away. To breathe. “See you later, okay?”
He looked like he wanted to say something. But you didn’t give him the chance. You turned. And walked away as fast as you possibly could. By the time you reached the next building, your vision was blurring.
You hated it all. You hated this. Hated yourself. You hated that some stupid date had reduced you to this pathetic version of yourself that was full of envy. Most of all, you hated how badly it hurt.
Because for the first time in your life, you genuinely felt like you were losing him. And over the next two days, you did everything possible to avoid him. You went to class. Went home. Ignored his texts & calls. Ignored every notification that carried his name.
You built a routine around avoiding Satoru Gojo. A devastating, miserable routine. Because every time you saw him, you felt like saying something you couldn’t take back. And every time you imagined him with her, something ugly twisted inside your chest.
Sometimes, in your worst moments, you found yourself hoping she would break his heart. The thought horrified you every single time.
Because you loved him. Maybe not in the way Shoko insisted. Maybe not in the way romance novels described. But enough that you should want him to be happy.
Instead, you found yourself staring at your unanswered messages one evening, guilt pooling heavily in your stomach, when suddenly your phone began ringing again.
For the twenty-third time.
Then another notification appeared. Not a call but a text. And for the first time in two days, you considered looking at what he had to say.
Toru: Stop avoiding me. We need to talk.
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