#getou angst

your heart's barely slowed, still racing from the adrenaline as the sickening feeling settles low in your stomach, the chasm deepening like someone carved it with a knife. you curl up into the corner of the sofa, fluffy blanket doing nothing to warm you, the cushions soft against your back. but it's all wrong, the feeling foreign, paling in comparison to what you're used to. usually it would be suguru's chest that you find yourself curling into, the steady beat of his pulse far more comforting than the plush down of any pillow.

you glance at the front door, averting your eyes quickly as if you're being judged (by who? yourself, probably). judged for looking, for waiting for him to come back, for hoping it'll be soon. suddenly, the clock is so very interesting as you try to tell yourself you're not thinking about him, each tick of the second hand an event as you find yourself calculating how long he's been gone. close to an hour, now, you realise. an hour since your words cut him like a blade you wielded too carelessly. an hour since you saw the hurt flash through violet eyes in a way that you don't think you've seen before. an hour of sitting in your festering regret like it's a pool of blood, and with how your chest aches, you're not sure if it's his or yours.

you haven't called him, not yet. too stubborn; you know it, and you hate it. you have his location, too, you both have each others, but you haven't checked yet out of defiance to your own heart, even though you know he's in one of probably three places. your phone is on the table, and when you pick it up, the screen is cold; your fingers are colder still. you open his contact, the text thread with him from mere hours ago mocking you with its 'sweetheart's and 'i love you's. your finger hovers over the call button of its own accord before you snatch it away, swiping the app away before opening his location.

as if you even needed to check to know where he'd be.

he's at the park, only a few blocks away. you should have expected as much. you know exactly where, too - that bench that looks over the river, tucked behind a line of trees big enough to make it just secluded, but small enough that the sun shines through as it sets. he's always loved it then, when the light shines through the foliage, dappled as it hits the water in striking oranges and yellows before the sun dips beyond the horizon. it's dark now, though, the grey of winter daylight having long faded into a deep blue.

you're locking the door behind you before you know it. you definitely haven't put on your thicker coat like you should have, and you don't think you care.

your legs take you there without much effort, your focus almost entirely on the little blue dot on your phone as you pray it won't move before you get there. the walk isn't too long, thankfully, but the wind chills you to the bone, clawing at your exposed cheeks and the tip of your nose. you can't remember if suguru grabbed a coat at all, now that you think about it, and you feel the pangs of guilt hit your chest all over again.

soon enough, you're rounding the corner and approaching the trees and the river.

suguru sees you before you see him, a rustle as you brush a low-hanging branch doing as much as his gut feeling to tell him that it's you.

you stand before him, posture closed, shoulders drawn low as you look at him, then drop your gaze to the floor, kicking at the fallen leaves beneath your feet.

"what are you doing here?" suguru asks, the sight of you before him unexpected as the scratch in his voice does little to hide his dejection, only giving away what his reddened eyes would've if it wasn't dark. "you shouldn't- it's not safe, something could've-" he tries, swallowing thickly to stave off the tears before he can finish his sentence. his fingers twitch at his side, his legs urging him to get up while the rest of him fights it.

until you sit beside him. at the other end of the bench, yes, but beside him nonetheless. you don't say anything.

neither does he. he's not sure he can, not with the lump in his throat and the tears pricking his waterline.

it's silent, unsettlingly so, save for the gentle swish of the wind through leaves.

until you break it.

"i'm sorry, suguru." the words are tiny as they leave your lips, so small that he's not sure whether he imagined them or not. "i shouldn't have- i didn't mean to hurt you. i'm so sorry." your head is tilted down, slightly, but not enough to fully obscure your face - when suguru glances at you, he can see the telltale shine of tears reflecting in your eyes.

he doesn't answer immediately, not until he steadies his breathing. "i know. it's okay." is all he can get out, voice soft like he's trying to make himself believe it, fingers curling into fists at his side.

the silence stretches between you again, the gap of a couple of feet feeling more like the space between planets.

when you finally speak again, the words feel too loud.

"it's not okay." you contest quietly, finally turning to look at him. his eyes flicker at the movement, before he blinks a few times. "i hate that i hurt you." you admit, the ache coiling in your gut, poised, tears springing to your eyes again.

he doesn't have anything to say to that.

"i know it's not your fault, that you're busy. that you have to work so much. i just..." you attempt, choking on the last words before you can even say them. i just miss you, sometimes, all the time, is what you want to say. i miss you so much that it aches, and sometimes i'm scared you don't miss me when you're gone. "i shouldn't have said it like that." you say, finally, and you both know it's true.

"you shouldn't have." he agrees, but there's no cruelty in his tone, just fact. maybe there's an element of cruelty in that in itself. you're not sure. "but i'd rather you tell me like that than not at all." he admits, voice low.

you shiver, glancing at him before blowing warm air on your hands, rubbing them together before sliding them into your pockets.

"you're cold." he notes aloud despite himself. it's not a particularly striking observation to have made, but the way suguru says it, the fact he says it all makes your heart clench.

"you're not even wearing a coat." you point out, the tiniest hint of your usual spark coming through as you look at him. he sighs, not of frustration, though, eyes softening as he meets your gaze.

"come here." it's not a command, or a plea, or a request. you're not sure what it is, but you do it.

his arms are warm around you, if a little shaky, as he holds you against him, his cheek pressed against your temple as you squish half into his side, half into his front. his cheeks are cold - no surprises there - and a little damp, stung by the wind and his tears as they begin to dry. the thought makes your own fall from your lashes.

"i missed you, suguru." you confess softly, and you feel him hum against you as much as you hear it.

"was only gone an hour, baby." he says, the faintest sprinkling of his usual charm in his words. the return of that pet name to his vocabulary after what has felt like far too long makes your heart jolt in your ribcage, as he lets a pause drag out. "i missed you too, though." he admits eventually.

you hesitate, breath shaky. "no, i mean... when you're not here. i really miss you. a lot. every time." a sob bubbles up in your throat, your voice faltering. "i'm sorry i was so mean about it."

it's all you can say before you crumble, your body trembling against him as you press your face into his shoulder, tears soaking his jumper.

"oh, sweetheart..." he murmurs, his hands drifting to your hips before he lifts you into his lap, your hands curling into fists, clutching the fabric at his shoulders as you press your face into his chest. "i should have noticed, i'm sorry, baby." he whispers, a hand slides up your back, cradling the back of your head, his thumb brushing over your hair softly.

you hiccup as you try to breathe through it, each shaky inhale and exhale slower than the last.

"alright, angel. time for us to go home, hmm?" his voice is tender as he presses a kiss to your hair, arms wrapping around you securely. then, he's lifting you like you're weightless, carefully standing up so as not to startle you, or god forbid, drop you.

(he would never. he'd sooner sacrifice himself than do such a thing.)

the streets are empty on the the walk home. it's quiet - peaceful, not eerie, thankfully - just a haze of blurred streetlights above you and the thump thump of suguru's footsteps that matches his heartbeat. suguru's pace is brisk, despite the fact that he's carrying you, too, and before you know it, the comforting warmth and scent of your apartment is hitting you as suguru opens the front door. he hangs your coat up for you once he sets you down on the sofa, right where you were not even two hours ago, crouching to take your shoes off for you before removing his own, stacking them neatly away. he sinks into the sofa cushion beside you, and you slump against him, the both of you emotionally exhausted, but ultimately okay.

(you always will be, in the end.)

he pulls you on to him again, letting himself flop down on his back as you lay your head on his chest. he fumbles for a blanket, the same one you had wallowed under earlier, tugging at it until it covers you both before slipping one hand into yours, the other resting easily on your back.

he glances at the clock - how did it get so late? he has half a mind to carry you straight to bed, but judging by how cold your fingers feel in his, and how he's been outside in no more than a hoodie for far too long, both of you could do with some warming up.

"sweetheart, do you want to go to bed? or shower?" he asks you gently, gingerly playing with your fingers as you look up at him, eyes a little bloodshot and addled with fatigue.

you hum, thinking as you rest your cheek against his chest again. "shower."

"okay. i'll get your things - you can go first." and oh, this is so heartachingly suguru; your sweet, sweet boy. your heart squeezes at his words, how he cares for you without a second thought, like it comes as easy as breathing, like it's what he was put here for.

you shake your head. "together." you request softly, a little shy and you're not sure why.

he couldn't refuse if he wanted to, not when you're peering at him with those big soft eyes. the sight reminds him of a kitten, and his heart threatens to melt into a puddle in his ribcage where you've made a home. he lets out a half-hum half-chuckle at your clinginess, loving every second of it, his answer an affirmative nod.

you attach yourself to him as the two of you get everything you need, your hand lingering at his side, as if leaving any more than a few inches of space between you makes your skin sting. before you know it, the world blurs at the edges, shrinking until it's just you and suguru and tendrils of steam curling around you as you lather yourself in cinnamon scented soap, suguru's favourite, and yours, too, as a result. suguru has thrown his hair up in a bun to try and avoid getting it too wet - it makes him look younger, the style reminiscent of his high school self, the version of him that you first met and first loved. you rinse yourself of the foam as suguru stands behind you doing the same thing, his hands resting gently over your hips, thumbs working tiny circles into your wet skin.

when the heat of the water and steam has soothed your body and soul, suguru insists on drying you despite your half-hearted protests that you can do it yourself.

"i know you can, baby, but i want to. want to take care of you." he says softly, wrapping your towel around you once he's secured his own around his waist. it doesn't take much convincing for you to give in, anyway, not when he's looking at you like that. like you're a goddess on earth, and his sole purpose is to worship you.

he's quick, but thorough with it, mindlessly humming the tune to a song you recognise but can't name as he massages moisturiser into your shoulder blades. "so beautiful, sweetheart. my pretty girl." he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the back of your neck before he pauses. "i should've been doing this more lately." he admits quietly, more to himself than anything else. "i'm sorry i haven't been around, baby."

"you don't have to apologise, suguru. it's not your fault." and he just might believe the words you whisper as you're turning around to face him, one hand coming up to caress his cheek. "i'm just glad you're here now."

between you, you make quick work of finishing up in the bathroom. suguru accepts your offer of help in moisturising his back, wanting to feel your hands on his skin, even though you both know he can reach himself. you get into your pyjamas, an old, worn, soft t-shirt of suguru's and the shorts from a set he bought you years ago, while suguru puts on some ancient band tee from high school and clean boxers.

you brush your teeth, do a simplified version of your standard nighttime routine, and then, suguru is picking you up again and carrying you to your bedroom. you let out a soft laugh when he hoists you into his arms (officer and a gentleman style). he smiles, and despite the tiredness you can see in them, it reaches his eyes. he carefully puts you down, and you slide under the thick duvet as he crawls in beside you. he pulls you into him for what feels like the hundredth time today (not that you would ever complain), positioning himself on his side as your face is beside his on the pillow. you tangle your legs with his, getting as close as you possibly can, until you're fairly certain that detangling electrical wires would be easier than separating you from him.

"sweet dreams, angel. i love you. so much." he murmurs, eyes fluttering shut as he kisses you, his lips soft against yours. it's brief, gentle enough not to be overwhelming, and a little minty, but so full of warmth; even as you pull away, the heat of his touch lingers, lulling you to sleep as you press your face into the crook of his neck

"mm, goodnight, baby." your words are muffled as your lips move half against his skin. "i love you, suguru, love you always."

he doesn't doubt it, not for a second.

and just like how the moon will always reappear after being hidden by the earth's shadow, you'll always end up here, back in suguru's arms again.

“She didn’t give me a chance to explain, and neither are you. Sit down and keep your voice down, you’re causing a scene.” 

Shoko crossed her arms over her chest, huffing. “Can’t–I have class. If it really wasn’t you trying to stick your stupid tiny dick into some other girl then come to The Vault on Halloween night and talk to her. But, if it was exactly what it looks like, then you better get your ass ready for a whooping.” 

“Okay well tell her at least to hear me out. Kay?” Shoko nodded with an unimpressed expression. 

Gojo raised an eyebrow as the girl walked off, turning back his gaze to his friend. And while they weren’t on great terms, they had somewhat made up for their little fight. It was true that Gojo had realized that as much as he cared for you, it was more in a platonic nature. He figured that the substances he had consumed that day were speaking for him, putting words in his mouth that weren’t completely true. Yet, it was hard to forgive Geto for the hell that he’d been putting you through lately, making the tension between them still run high.  

“You seriously fucked up.” Gojo laughed, sticking his chopsticks into his meal. “I don’t get why you don’t just talk to her in person, and clear the air.” 

“Don’t you think I tried that already?” He sneered, “she’s blocked me on everything. When I try to walk up to her in person she runs away. What am I supposed to do?” 

“Well for starters, you shouldn’t have ghosted her for two weeks after reading week.” Gojo points out, causing Geto to roll his eyes. 

“Well she didn’t try to message me either.” He states, “and besides, what would you do if you poured your heart out to a girl ‘n shit but when you wake up in the morning she’s gone, not answering your texts?” 

“I don’t know, maybe I’d go up to her and say, ‘hey do you remember when I told you I loved you and we fell asleep together, or were you black out drunk and don’t actually remember? I-D-K just a suggestion.” He took a bite of his food, “I’m telling you man, I don’t think she knows what you said.” 

“Whatever.” Geto grumbled, trapped in his own thoughts. 

“So what are you gonna do?” Gojo asked, peeking his eyes through his sunglasses. 

“I’m gonna go to her on Halloween night, like Shoko said.” 

You stood in the bar’s bathroom, reapplying your lipgloss while Shoko waited for you. You adjusted the bunny ears that sat at the top of your head, fixing the black corset that sat snugly against your breasts. There was a bit of devilish look on her face– which was fitting considering the fact she was wearing a tiny red devil costume. 

“What’s with the face?” You questioned, taking a step back from the mirror. Shoko only grinned, eyes flickering back and forth from her phone screen and your eyes. 

“Suguru’s here.” She explained. You felt your face drop. Any excitement that was  building in your body from the sheer excitement of Halloween was crushed instantly. 

Taking a deep breath, you scoffed. “What is he doing here?” 

Shoko awkwardly laughed, “I told him to come.” 

“What the hell? Are you being serious? After what just happened?” Anger bubbled up inside of you. How could your friend betray you like that? 

“Trust me. I talked to him. I told him to only come if he was serious about you, isn’t that what you want? He wants to talk. He wants you to hear him out.” 

“Me and him have done a lot of talking and it’s still gotten us nowhere.” 

“So maybe you need to fuck it out,” she joked. 

“Ieiri.” You said her name sternly, and she put her hands up in defense, begging for you to at least talk to Geto.  “I don’t even know if I can look at him right now.” 

“Take a shot, maybe it’ll help your nerves.” 

“I think more alcohol is the last thing I need when I’m with Suguru.” You explained with widening eyes, swinging the door open, facing the bustling noises of the bar. 

It was at max capacity, with gaggles of college students, all wearing their sluttiest costumes all lined up at the bar counter, ordering more shots than they could probably handle. There was a DJ playing for the holiday, and your heart beat synchronised with the bass of the music. The closer you got to the center of the crowd, the hotter it became and the more worried you became about seeing Geto. 

The thought of hearing him out again was difficult to wrap around, and you cursed your roommate for putting you through this situation. Yet, you tried to rationalize her choices– maybe it would be for the best, maybe Shoko knew something you didn’t. Her outside perspective may have had more insight expected. Thinking back to her words, she made it clear that he was given an ultimatum. Leaving you with no choice other than to believe that he would speak to you genuinely, and not with some pathetic excuses. 

You tried to let loose, but you were undeniably tense. Shoko could tell, getting you to drink some of her drink, nudging you to dance alongside her. It was all too much, though, the anticipation of seeing him, of being vulnerable again. The fact that you would have to face your problems once and for all was probably the scariest thing about that night. 

There was still no sign of Geto, even though he was supposedly at the same bar as you. You figured he might’ve been too nervous to talk to you, or that maybe he left. That worried you too. It was weird, you were mad at him, but the idea of him not staying to see you hurt you just the same. So, when Shoko slipped off to get another round of drinks, you stayed behind on the dance floor, being sardined by the sea of bodies around you. 

Then, there was a tap on your shoulder. 

Spinning around, your bunny ears almost slipped off completely. Standing before you was Geto Suguru himself, the cause of your recent heart ache and young adult angst. He wore a hastily put together cowboy costume; a loose flannel sitting over a tight, black t-shirt, a pair of jeans and some cowboy hat that he probably got that day. 

“Hey,” he said quietly. You could hardly hear him, resorting to reading his lips. You nodded as a greeting, watching how he leaned into your ear. 

“You look nice.” He complimented. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of looking flustered. You nodded again, and he stayed near your ear. It would be difficult to talk like this, the lack of quietness forcing your proximity. Although, it felt as though all words were caught in your throat, pushing Geto to do most of the talking. 

“That girl,” he started. “Was my cousin.” 

“Yeah, right.” Audible disbelief laced your words. Geto only shook his head.

“I’m being serious.” He tilted his head closer to you, letting you feel how his breath trickled down your throat. If this was any other occasion, and if you weren’t so mad at him you probably would’ve pulled him in for a kiss. “She was touring the campus, missed the last train and I let her stay the night.” 

“How dumb do you think I am?” You screamed over the sounds of the other bar-goers and the blasting music. 

“C’mon you’ve literally met her before,” he explained. You tried to picture the girl's face. “She came from Osaka for the summer festival last year? Her name’s Yumi.” 

Yumi. That name was familiar. You tried to remember last summer– the fireworks, street vendors, all the sweets that Satoru was cramming down his throat. The more you tried to remember, the clearer it became. You could picture Yumi’s pale face, the mole on her cheek, her dyed blonde hair. Clearly I’m an idiot, actually. You deadpanned, hearing the faint sounds of Geto laughing as you realized it. 

He pulled away from you for a minute before bringing himself back to that familiar position. 

“See? I told you it wasn’t what it looked like.” He waited for a minute, taking a bit of an anxious gulp. “Now do you wanna go outside ‘n talk?” 

You sighed, letting his hand slip into yours, guiding you towards the smoker’s section outside. Just over two weeks ago you were in a very similar situation, only that situation soured very quickly. You were too caught up with that memory, of fists flying and cusses being exchanged. Geto squeezed your hand, pulling you from your overthinking, helping you as you stepped out of the bar. 

It wasn’t necessarily a private space, but at least you would be able to hear your own thoughts– such an important conversation needed to have some kind of internal thinking. 

“You know I’ve been a jerk to you.” He breaks the silence with his statement. 

“Jerk is a bit of an understatement.” You dryly chuckle. 

“Yeah, I guess it is.” Geto puts his hands into his pockets, stepping closer to you, staring down at your face. He makes a bit of a puzzled expression, as if he’s unsure of how to continue with the conversation. 

“Can I ask you something?” You meet his vision, biting your lip. He nods and you continue: “After we left DeeDee’s.. did we… y’know did we hook up?” 

The mood on his face lightens, his eyes widening slightly, shaking his head vigorously. 

“You kissed me, but that’s all that happened. You were too tired to go home, so you stayed at mine… I didn’t realize you didn’t remember anything about that night. I mean, I thought so, but I thought maybe you left because you didn’t like what I told you.” He cut himself off from his rambling, face dusted pink. 

You quirked your head to the side. “What did you tell me?” 

He huffed out. “You really don’t remember, or are you just trying to make me say it again?” 

“Honest,” you say, crossing your heart. 

Geto smoothed his hand over his hair, averting his gaze before looking back at you. He took a breath, biting his tongue for a second. 

“I said I was sorry, for snapping at you, for pushing you away, for ruining our friendship.” He paused momentarily, hesitating. “I said that being friends with benefits was a bad decision, and that I wanted us to be friends again.” 

“I remember that last bit…” Your voice went quiet. “But that can’t be all, there’s something else you’re not telling me.” 

You’ve been friends for so long and you clearly have sexual chemistry. That’s all a relationship is. Shoko had said that to you once, and she seemed to know what she was talking about. Geto was pushing you away just like she had explained.

You could see that scared look in his eyes when you asked him that last part. He didn’t want to bring you close, to bring down his defenses. He must’ve felt weak enough apologizing. Emotionally repressed was a major understatement. He was terrified of love, of being loved, of accepting love. Reaching for his hands, you held them in yours for a brief second. Before you slept together this wouldn’t have felt as awkward and weird as it did in the moment, but you just needed to feel him, to ground yourself in the present. 

“Su… what else did you say?” You repeated. 

“It’s not important,” he replied. “Besides, it’s not easy to admit now that I’m sober– or at least not drunk.” 

There was yet another moment of silence, a chance for both of you to stare into each other’s eyes. You wanted to scream at him. Not because you were angry, but because you couldn’t wait any longer for his words. 

“When you say you don’t want to sleep with me anymore, do you really mean it?” 

“You know I don’t mean it.” He answered, too quickly for his liking, though, dropping your hands, trying to put them back in his pockets. 

“So why do we have to stop? Why not take it all the way?” You inch ever-closer to him. 

“You know I’ll hurt you again. Fuck, I might hurt you ever day until you can’t stand me anymore– until you realize that you deserve more, someone better than me. There’s plenty of guys here that would love you better. If we go all the way- fuck- if we don’t stop seeing each other like this I’ll never be able to have you in my life again.” 

You blink. Love. The word lingered in your ears as Geto continued with his ramble. It seemed as though something had shifted in his tone. He was less sure of the words spilling from his mouth, like he’d lost all control over his ability to speak, spewing out whatever his heart thought right. Something that you didn’t think he was capable of. 

“If I’m being honest. I can’t not have you in my life. But then what happens when I fuck shit up again, like I always do? Or if I say the wrong thing? Or if something happens? I dunno, what we have it’s fragile. I can’t risk it. I’m a fucking bull in a china shop…Please, stop looking at me with those eyes. You have to believe me, if it wasn’t for the fact that I’m a fucking asshole I would’ve made you mine a long fucking time ago. Please, y/n, you look like you’re gonna cry, please.” 

Sniffing, you wiped your face, cautious of your makeup, letting out a small laugh. It seemed to catch Geto off guard, making him pause. 

“Maybe there’s a risk that everything goes horribly wrong,” you tell him, making his body stiffen. “But isn’t there also a possibility that things go right? I like you, Suguru. More than I’ve liked any other guy before. You think you don’t deserve to be loved– maybe you don’t think you’re capable of receiving it, but please, let me show you.” 

Grabbing onto the collar of his flannel, you pull him into you, once again bringing him for a kiss. This time, though, your thoughts are clear. Your heart is set. You can feel the way the world spins, as if this is your first kiss, as if there are fireworks being lit somewhere in the background. 

His hands travel swiftly, one finding its place on your waist, squeezing your side gently. While the other cups your face, accepting the vulnerability. His lips moved feverishly, not wanting you to slip away before he got the chance to kiss you right. The bunny ears fell off, but it didn’t matter anymore. 

Ghetto pulled away, pressing his forehead against yours, his eyes still squeezed shut. 

“I can’t guarantee that I won’t piss you off, or that I won’t make you cry. I don’t want to, but I might.” 

“I know,” you whispered. “We’ll figure it out, right?” 

“I’ve never kissed anyone the way I kiss you.” He could feel his heart skip a beat, “I’ve never looked at anyone the way I look at you.” 

His hand carefully stroked your cheek, “I’ve never gotten jealous over a person the way I do with you. And I don’t want to have anyone in my life the way I want you. I need you.” 

“Take me home, then, and I’m yours.” You tell him. 

Geto kisses you again, giving you one last taste of his passion. It was rare to see this side of him, and you were unsure of when he’d let his heart be so exposed again. Your fingers dug into his hair, smoothing through his locks. 

“Let’s go then.” 

At that moment, Geto Suguru still felt scared. Worried like hell that he would mess things up again. That he was working against an always ticking time bomb. He’d never dated anyone, never thought it was in his realm of possibility. To have someone, to be theirs, to hold their love in the palm of his hand, was always a foreign concept. Yet, with you, it felt a bit easier. He didn’t know what he was doing, but like you told him you’d figure it out. He wanted you, and that was all that mattered, scared or not. He would never know if he was capable of love if he didn’t at least try. 

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© all work belongs to nanamisbbygirl on tumblr, please do not plagiarize, repost or translate anywhere

your rock. your family. your closest companion. the one who held your face in his hands like it was precious, tilting you toward a stream of sunlight filtering through linen curtains while you lay tangled in bed, laughing at nothing at all. the one who shared late-night whispers about dreams and fears and things too small and fragile to survive in daylight. together, you built a world that belonged only to you; a space where time stretched soft and unhurried, and the rest of the universe spun on an axis entirely separate from your own.

you’d thought it would always be that way, that no matter what storms came, he’d be there to pull you into the eye of it, where it was safe and quiet. but he hadn’t called upon you in so long, and the silence was deafening.

you didn’t feel like you existed until he called upon you. and that was a dangerous thing. because now, without him, you weren’t living. you were surviving. floating through days like a ghost, hollow and heavy all at once.

and the hardest part wasn’t the absence itself, but the memories that kept replaying in its place. the laughter, the quiet, the light. remnants of a world you once believed would never fade.

it’s only when it’s 2 in the morning, and you’re nursing a glass of room-temperature coffee you probably should’ve thrown away hours ago, that you hear the keys turn in the lock.

the sound is foreign, almost unsettling. your chest tightens with the weight of it, like you’ve been caught somewhere you don’t belong—even though this is your home. the mug trembles faintly in your hands as you stare down at the lukewarm liquid, your gaze fixed on the faint swirl of cream that never quite mixed in. the bitter taste on your tongue curdles into something sharp, something sour.

you hear the door creak open, and then his voice—soft, quiet, as if the word itself is apologizing. “tadaima.”

you freeze. it feels unreal, like you’ve conjured him from the depths of your exhaustion. and when your eyes lift to meet his, the air between you feels charged, a fragile thread stretched thin enough to snap. his expression mirrors yours too perfectly—wide eyes, lips parted as if mid-thought, his body stiff and unmoving in the doorway.

you think of all the times you waited for that voice, for that face. of all the mornings you woke to sunlight and a presence that made this house feel alive. now, the room feels suffocating, while he looks like a stranger standing in the place of someone you once knew.

and you don’t know what to do.

“h-hi,” is what you manage to croak out, the word barely audible over the lump lodged in your throat. you instantly curse yourself, fumbling to add, “okaeri.”

“y-yes, hi,” he replies, his voice just as uncertain, as if the sight of you has thrown him off balance. he shrugs off his coat with stiff movements, scratching the back of his neck like he’s searching for something, anything, to say.

the air feels cold despite the fuzzy socks hugging your feet, and it settles thick in your chest, pressing down harder with every passing second. you can’t help but stare. he looks different. had he gotten a haircut? when had he gotten those boots? details like these feel absurd to notice now, but they gnaw at you, tiny reminders of how much time has slipped through your fingers.

he clears his throat when he feels your gaze lingering, the sound sharp in the quiet room. “i didn’t think you’d be up.”

you want to tell him that you’re always up, that sleep has been a stranger to you for weeks. but the words don’t come. instead, you grip the mug tighter, the ceramic cooling rapidly in your hands. something unspoken hangs in the air, heavy and brittle, and you wonder which of you will break first. but you mentally prepare yourself. because if not now, then when? you take a breath, your hands trembling slightly as you set the mug down. “is that why you came home late?”

wait, no. that’s not how that was supposed to come out. the question hangs in the air, sharp and brittle, and you instantly regret it. it feels too much like an accusation. too pointed. too… desperate.

suguru blinks at you, those familiar eyes widening in surprise, a flash of guilt crossing his face like a fleeting shadow. it’s almost too much. too real. his expression reminds you of something fragile, something you could break with just a word. and in that moment, you feel the heat creep up your neck, your cheeks flushing as the weight of your own vulnerability presses down on you.

“i—uh,” he stammers, his gaze flickering nervously, as if unsure what to say next. but instead of defending himself, he just stands there, a few feet away, the space between you feeling insurmountable now. “i think so. yeah. ‘m sorry.”

“is that all you have to say to me?” you ask softly, your voice barely a whisper, the question hanging in the air like an accusation you never meant to make. your hand trembles a little. but you smooth it out. again and again. you play with the ring he’d given you years ago, a promise of what your lives would look like. a promise that now feels like a distant memory, a fantasy you once believed in.

he doesn’t answer right away. instead, he looks at you—really looks at you—and his face softens in a way that almost hurts. his eyes are solemn, regretful. he pulls his boots off, the sound of them hitting the floor like a dull echo in the quiet room, and without another word, he steps into the kitchen.

he moves like he’s unsure of his place here anymore. like he’s not sure if he has a place here at all.

he stands next to you, silent, as he grabs the mug of shitty coffee from the counter, its warmth long faded, and dumps it into the sink with a swift motion. “don’t drink that. i made it yesterday.”

you blink, surprised at the sudden shift in his actions. it’s a strange kind of intimacy. caring, but hollow, like he’s trying to make up for something without knowing how. you want to say something but the words are tangled in your throat, too heavy to speak. “suguru-”

“i know,” he sighs, his voice like gravel, weighed down with exhaustion. “i know. ‘m sorry.”

it’s like he can see it coming. like he’s already mapped out the destruction, the way every little thing you’ve built together is going to burn to the ground. he knows that in a matter of moments, everything—everything—you thought you had will be reduced to ash. the memories, the soft laughter in the early mornings, the way his hands fit into yours so perfectly, the small, meaningless things that once kept you tethered to him, all of it will crumble. all of it will vanish.

you both know, even as the words hang in the air, that this is the end. the end of your teenage years spent sharing a bedroom, whispering into the night about everything and nothing. the end of the mornings spent in the kitchen, dancing barefoot to jazz while cooking the shittiest meals. the end of the soft touches, the warmth, the feeling of him pulling a blanket over your sleeping body when you passed out on the couch after too many late nights. the end of the mornings where you’d wake up to the smell of his cologne and a cup of coffee waiting for you.

and all that remains now is the realization that you won’t exist in his world anymore. not the way you used to. not the way you needed to. you won’t be the one he turns to when the world is too much, and you won’t be the one he calls out to when he’s lonely because he won’t fucking call upon you anymore—

you feel it, right there, in the pit of your stomach. the quiet, suffocating weight of it, pressing down on your chest, stealing your breath. the calm before the storm. the stillness that comes just before your world shatters.

and then it breaks. right there, in the quiet of the kitchen, the silence between you two suffocating, and you finally feel it—your throat closes up, the tears burning at the edges of your eyes. you try to hold it in, try to stop the sob that threatens to escape, but it’s impossible. the pain is too much, too sharp, and it tears through you like a jagged knife.

you break. your hands tremble, the sharp edges of your nails biting into the soft skin of your palm as you try to steady yourself. you try not to sob, but it’s too much. you’re suffocating. you can’t breathe. you can’t stop the tears, the heat rising to your face, burning your skin with the weight of it all.

not a single sound escapes you. you don’t want him to hear you break. you don’t want him to know how badly he’s destroyed you. but you can’t help it. it’s like all the years, all the moments, everything that’s been weighing on you for months suddenly crashes down in one brutal wave, and there’s no stopping it. you feel your soul fracture, a million tiny pieces scattering across the floor.

“what went wrong?” you whisper, voice trembling, barely audible through the thick, suffocating weight of the room. your breath hitches between soft sobs. “did i do something? i don’t- i don’t understand.”

your words trail off into a broken silence, and for a moment, you can’t look at him. you’re terrified of what his face might tell you. but then he sighs, low and heavy, like he’s carrying the weight of a thousand regrets.

and somehow, you put it all together.

it’s a fucked-up kind of understanding, jagged and bitter, but it settles into the pit of your stomach all the same. everything—everything—you’d envisioned, all the years you’d mapped out together, all the promises whispered in dark rooms, now stood in front of you, shattered into pieces too small to put back together.

suguru and you were supposed to make it to the end of the line. that’s how it was supposed to go. you imagined it that way, planned it that way—he did too. or at least, you thought he did. you felt he did. you can still picture it so vividly it hurts, like pressing on a bruise that won’t heal.

the day you moved into this apartment flashes behind your eyes. sitting on the cot together, surrounded by fluffy blankets you hadn’t yet unpacked, scrolling through pinterest on your phone. picking out homes, marveling at the way your futures lined up so perfectly. talking about how many children you’d have. dreaming about the life you’d lead, the life you’d build together. growing old, side by side.

but now, all those dreams are scattered across the cold tiles of this kitchen, broken and sharp, as if they’d never meant anything at all.

you look up at him, your vision blurred with tears, and it hurts—god, it hurts—because his face doesn’t look like the suguru you built those dreams with. he looks tired. distant. and even now, standing just a few feet away from you, he feels impossibly far.

and you know it. it’s all over. everything has been lost.

here you stood. lips trembling. while geto suguru stood at the doorway with no emotion on his face. the man you've been dreading to see ever since he disappeared after going on that one mission. no excitement nor joy was found within you at all.

while your lips trembled, his lips that looked more dry rather than soft as before, let out a cold chuckle.

"you know I love you y/n. yeah?" it didn't feel like he did.

eyes that were once full with so much colour only bore deep into your fragile soul, darkness is all that engulfs geto suguru.

"but you don't love me enough to stop this?" you unconsciously mutter, a sad smile forming as you look at him. suguru remained silent

when you heard the news of sugurus rampage, killing his own parents, eradicating an entire village. all due to his ever growing dislike of non-sorcerers. that of which was also you, you were a non-sorcerer. every night you slept to the thought of, "does he still love me?", and "am I next?". it took him 5 years to finally answer.

at this point your future was set. you couldn't run away from one of the strongest, former sorcerers of your time. not when you aren't one yourself. so all you did was walk closer to him under the dim light emitting from your bedroom window. the wooden floor creaking from your gentle steps, and next thing you knew you were face to face for the first time in 5 years.

"it's okay. I know why you're here, just do it suguru." you mumble, as tears begun to flow out of your eyes. eyes that used to provide him with so much comfort. so much life. so much love. that's the thing, they used to. now those very same eyes looked at him with nothing but hurt.

'this was all so I could complete my goal' he told himself.

his disgust for non sorcerers was like a drug to him. the addictiveness and glory he felt killing these people he called monkeys. for they gave him an ick, a feeling he couldn't rid himself of if he doesn't rid them first. and he could slowly feel his nerves cringing as you stood face to face with one another.

"it's for the better of the world."

"better without me?"

"yes." was all he said before you felt the piercing of his curse technique going straight through your already broken heart.

"better without you.." he whispered beneath the shadows of his bangs that covered his face. he looked down, now witnessing his last salvation dead before him. yet he didn't feel any guilt nor remorse.

that day geto suguru turned around not sparing another glance to your lifeless form. disappearing once more in the dark.

━━━┅━━━━*✧·̩͙♧︎🫐♧︎·̩͙✧*━━━━┅━━

@svtcrus || 07.27.2023

the bus creaks over the edge of the broken bridge, passengers huddled in corners or pressed up against the window in a means of escape. you usher the children out the door where strangers safely on the other side reach for them. a jarring abyss lays waiting in the gap below. 

another creak, your hands fly out to find balance and you hear the screams of others reflected inside your head. the tremble in your fingers becomes harder to hide as the bus slides down, down, down, suspended only due to the front wheels clinging to the ragged edge of the road. 

spiderman was late, and that mistake was all it’ll take for countless lives to stain his hands. but of course, your boyfriend was the one and only spiderman, and though you often rolled your eyes at his arrogance, it was there for a reason. 

a sudden cheering tears your eyes away from the ledge, and your shoulders sag as a distant figure flies into view. 

even in this moment, you can't help but laugh as he swings excessively over the site. it's almost like time stops when your eyes meet, and you see him through the white of his mask. eyes wide, was that a stammer in his swing? and suddenly he's coming towards you.

something flickers to your right, and you spot the prowler slashing his way towards you too. it must have been the widening of your eyes that gave it away as gojo turns his head and traces your gaze. the stammer in his swing is unmistakable now and with a weird feeling brewing in your stomach, you greet him. 

gojo calls your name and you have to hush him before the sound gets too loud. “are you okay?”

“i’m fine, spiderman. none of us are harmed. everyone’s only terrified because the bus is about to fall into that weird blackhole thing, down there." his eyes follow your finger and he curses. "think you can do your job and save us?” you say when he doesn't immediately move.

gojo nods. his webs fly out from his wrists and ties the front of the bus to two poles on either side of the bridge. they wrap round and round and round once more, just to be safe. just as gojo is about to pull the bus up, the prowler drops onto the road. 

you turn your head with spiderman and only the whispers of bystanders fill the scene. 

“spiderman! long time no see.” 

“this was your doing.” gojo grits out.

“think of it as a surprise gift. i wanted to return what you gave me.” the prowler lifts his hand and yanks at his right arm, pulling it clean off. 

you shriek and hide your eyes with your hands, peeking between your fingers to see that the arm was mechanical. 

“i needed a hand.” gojo retorts. “who knew you would come to my rescue. you didn’t need much convincing to show yourself to me, huh? this time for sure, i’ll get you.” 

the prowler laughs and its the sound of death. “then lets see if you can catch me.” 

he starts running off into the crowd of spectators, a path craved out for him without much effort. spiderman takes a single step forward, before turning back. you recognise the question in his eyes even before he has the chance to voice it.

“go!” you shout. “we’ve got it from here. the longer you stay here, the less time we’ll have to be safe. just go!”

gojo’s eyes show hesitance even through the mask, and for a second, you think he might stay. 

his arm comes up, web shooting from his wrist to secure the bus even more to the edge of the bridge. fear makes your mouth dry but you manipulate it to show a smile anyway. 

“be safe.” spiderman says. “i love—”

“just go!” you say over him, hoping the people around him didn't hear his last few words. “we’ll be okay, dummy.” 

when spiderman leaves, you take in a sharp inhale before turning around. “everyone, come up one at a time! the bus won’t be falling anytime soon but we still have to hurry. get the children out first, here, take my hand!” 

metres away, the prowler tumbles back as spiderman’s feet hit him square in the chest. “you followed me all the way out here, gojo? even though your girlfriend’s in danger?”

gojo swallows back the sour taste in his mouth. “she told me to come.” his webs pull him up high and he uses this to put power behind his next punch. “the only person you should worry about is yourself, getou.”

“where are your usual quips? you seem to be out of your element.” getou dances around gojo's moves with ease.

“if you have enough time to talk, then you have enough time to win. so show me what you’ve got.”

getou growls, digging his claws into the cement underneath and lifting it up, sending it straight up in the air. gojo easily swishes to the side, feeling the piece of earth skim his chest as it rushes past. letting the momentum turn him around, he spins and shoots webs at the prowler’s feet.

“you missed!” gojo taunts, jumping off a streetlamp as the prowler throws something at him again. again, he webs at the prowler.

“it wasn’t you i was aiming for.”

gojo lets the comment fall off his ears, diving between the prowler's legs to kick him across the back of his head. getou grunts, and tries to move only to find himself held in place.

“you’re done.” gojo says, dropping down to walk towards the prowler. 

getou stays silent as gojo walks up, before jerking forward, stepping out of his boots to headbutt gojo. spiderman groans, clutching his head, giving getou enough time to run off. before he could give chase, he was already gone, now more nimble having discarded his armour. 

the prowler has slipped from his fingers. again. gojo snarls, before sighing, he shakes off his regrets and attempts to clear his mind. no, he shouldn’t be focusing on this right now. right now, he just needed to make sure you were safe. turning back, he surveys the scene for something to swing on, to gain aptitude. 

there were those two poles on either side of the bridge, from earlier. perhaps it was the dust he had kicked up, but he could no longer see them in the distance. something chilling fills his stomach, and he chooses to ignore it, aiming his wrists for the next best thing and slinging forward. 

the crowd parts for him. 

“where’s the bus?” he asks no one in particular. the bystanders whisper, but it isn’t an answer that leaves their tongue. gojo’s eyes take in the crumbled bridge, a large chunk of cement situated at the scene that wasn’t there before. with a gutting feeling, gojo peers over the edge of the bridge, straight at the black hole.

his grief is the city’s soundtrack for that night, ringing through the streets where he once kissed you. 

getou suguru

being spiderman is so easy, getou thinks.

as he weaves through the jungle of tokyo skyscrapers, wind caressing his face through the latex, a true tranquillity washes over him. there was nothing quite like being a superhero, especially if you were as good as getou was at his job. and boy was getou good. in fact, he was so good that he wasn't even going to be late to your date.

being spiderman is so easy.

spiderman swings through the open window of his room and with a huff, yanks off his mask. his hair tumbles out, all fuzzled from the static and harboring small knots. getou smooths his troubled hair as best as he can, but gives up settles for finding a cap to shove over it instead, since he’s sure you would complain if he showed up in his current state.

getou spins around his room, whistling in haste, clicking off his web shooters and throwing them somewhere behind him.

the tune dies on his lips when he finds you sitting on the edge of his bed, phone forgotten in your hand.

you stare up at him like he's grown two heads. though, it might be more accurate to say that he grew two faces in that moment.

your initial surprise wears off and you jump at the opportunity to interrogate him. "getou? no, spiderman? are you spiderman? what am i saying, of course you are! you're spiderman! i just saw you swing into your room! you'd think spiderman would have better instincts than this."

at first, getou panics. his hands flail around frantically as if to wave away your questions, but it only fans the flames. eventually, he cracks. laughing, he holds you by the shoulders. "slow down! i can't answer all these questions if you don't let me."

you beam up at him and he remembers why he fell in love with you in the first place. "my boyfriend is spiderman." you reaffirm in wonder.

"and my girlfriend is the most incredible girl i know. who's going to let me change out of my dirty suit before you press me further."

"i was wondering what that smell was."

"i was fighting a sewer monster. you'll see him on the news soon enough."

"so this is where your large, inflated ego comes from. i was wondering where you got your confidence. if only i knew it was because you're spiderman! the spiderman!"

getou exhales a mix of a sigh and a chuckle. he’s almost tempted to think this was a blessing in disguise, for you to know and accept who he was. your eyes peering up at him, not seeing him anew, but seeing him whole. “okay, okay, enough. are you going to stick around to find out what spiderman’s body looks like underneath the suit too. or are you going to let me change by myself?”

for a lost moment, getou wonders why superheroes hide their identities.

spiderman’s hands yearn to grab onto you, the world like rushing water against his ears, fingertips stretched to their limit and he pleads in that moment that if you live, when you live, he'll never involve you with his spiderman side gig again. he’d been so thrilled to bring you along, take you soaring in the skies, sharing that intimate moment suspended between twilight and the city below, letting his most precious person join him in the joys of his world that differed so much from yours. he thought the world would explode in a million happy little pieces of confetti if he did so.

the ground breaks into view and getou sees you, backdropped against the incoming grey cement, and you see him, illuminated by the moon peeking through the steel bars of the watchtower, his mask ripped to show the vulnerable boy beneath.

he screams your name again but you can barely hear it, only making out the outline of his lips.

you've never felt the thrill of falling before, but you know you can't say the same for getou. spiderman practically lives in the air, caught between webs and the night sky. so you wonder why he looks the way he does, fear agape and swallowing his face, a raw kind of desperation that eats up every other facial feature and spitting out the ugly, worrying kind, when he’s in his element.

fingers touch fingers and with effort, spiderman reaches you.

the sudden rush of adrenaline leaves you gasping in his arms and you feel his breath mingling with yours. alive. you had felt the presence of the ground closing in on your neck seconds before his webs halted your descent, a single second late and you’d likely be dead.

the two of you huddle on the ground, holding tight on one another as if letting go would mean you'd never see each other again. getou lets go first, a shaky breath prefacing his words. you smile quietly at his concern, tracing his face with a shaky hand.

"thank god, i thought i would lose you—"

getou hears the bang of a gun before he sees it happen, your head lolled to the side until it thuds against his arm, a frozen smile on your face. he wonders briefly if the relief on your face was fate’s big, cruel joke, or if he should be happy that you had died thinking everything was going to be alright.

blood slowly leaks from the wound on your head. getou turns his head to the perpetrator and toji smiles back.

“a gun might not work on you, but it sure as hell would work on your girlfriend.”

when toji aims the gun next, getou ducks behind another pillar, his arms still holding you. the bullet hits the ground and a cloud of dust separates him and toji momentarily, and he takes the given second to look at you.

your eyes that once saw him, seeing nothing.

ieiri shoko

the news anchor reported that authorities had discovered webbed villains scattered throughout tokyo with several organs misplaced. they don’t want to jump to conclusions nor falsely accuse a certain web-related superhero, the anchor says, but they’d appreciate it if spiderwoman could confirm or deny any connections she may have with the current situation. 

you turn away from the tv to shoko, the spiderwoman herself, as she lounges across the couch. 

“what’s that about?” you ask. 

your girlfriend pauses her game to look up at you. "it wasn't me. what would i do with organs anyway?" she says around the lollipop in her mouth, flicking it side to side to talk. 

you think this is reasonable enough and let the topic drop. they were probably exaggerating anyway, that's what the news does best. shoko may not have the strongest moral compass, but suggesting that she was hoarding organs was extremely far-fetched, especially since she did a great job at ensuring tokyo’s safety. 

huffing, you lean into her. "you could sue them for defamation." 

"spiderwoman in court? wouldn't that be something. besides," she quickly gives you a clumsy kiss on the corner of your mouth and it tastes like raspberries. "you're the only one whose opinion i care for."

a comfortable silence stretches out between the two of you and you revel in the moment. it was rare to catch her away from her hero responsibilities, after all. 

"what would you do if they were right though?"

you sit up and give her a level stare. "but they're wrong, right?"

"right. but if they weren't. hypothetically."

"shoko, where did you put the organs?"

“i hid them in your basement. what? you told me you never used it for anything. besides, i wanted to show you this interesting thing the human heart can do. where are you going? come back, i’m sorry, i’ll put them back!” 

it was her potential that caught the eye of the spiderverse, an elite society of spidermen across the multiverses that ensured the stability of the cosmos. at first, shoko had been intrigued. different worlds, some so akin to her own but so unfamiliar at the same time, the endless opportunities and specimens and curiosities, shoko was enthralled. 

though you weren’t on the need-to-know basis, shoko would whisper tales of her otherworldly adventures on late-night sleepovers and you both would giggle over the fantastical. it’s slightly bitter when she leaves for days on end, but you reassure yourself that it never exceeds a week, and that she’ll come back with a stolen souvenir and another world to share. 

when shoko finds out you have to die, must die for the sake of the universe and all that exists beyond it, she feels conflicted. she could always reject the customs of the spiderverse, but the fantastical sights and infinite promises it held were all too tempting. 

she’s forced to promise to not come in between the canonical event. 

the decision breaks her. seeing you was no longer comforting. everything feels temporary, rearing to break apart and on nights she feels it the most, seeking momentary peace at the end of a burning stick despite your protests, she wonders if she could have fought harder. but it was choosing you or choosing the world and being spiderwoman meant she was capable of doing one, but not both. 

eventually, shoko stays away. it happens like the flick of a switch, leaving earlier in the morning or denying the weekly movie night, or leaving your texts on delivered for weeks. and the entire time, you’re left in the dark. 

shoko’s last selfish wish, she told herself, was to at least not see it happen. if she never saw it, never knew when it happened, then did it happen at all? so she fills her mind with thoughts of disgusting creatures and beating, pulsing hearts, of blurring villains and endless citizens in distress, and never of you. 

but just like how she had never been one for rules, you weren’t one either. tracking her down, tracing her every move, you began to plot out her schedule on the rare occasions she’d come back to her world, to pick up a few clothes or to watch you through your window, never daring to come inside. 

you feel triumph when you hop universes with her, unbeknownst to shoko’s knowledge. your feet dangle in a space not bound by time or gravity until they thud on unfamiliar soil. you’d made it, you think, you've successfully jumped through space all in the name of love. you did it even better than interstellar, even. 

but someone once said: “there’s no curse more twisted than love.” 

your naivety leads you to a battlefield, one on a scale that leaves shoko bleeding and panting, hand on knees, the other swiping a red streak across her mouth. just as she squeezes her eyes shut in the face of an incoming fatal blow, you jump in between

her eyes shake as you lie in her arms. battle rages on as spiderpeople from various universes come to her rescue, but the noise and clatter tunes out and a hollowness fills the void. 

your hand comes up to rub the red mark on her cheek, but the force behind the gesture is weak and losing strength by the second. 

“why are you here?” shoko asks. she grabs your falling hand and presses it back on her cheek, giving you the strength to smear the blood. it only makes the spot messier though, rubbing over your hand and over hers. 

“i love you.” you choke. “you never said it back before you went away.”

“you idiot. i love you, you don’t need me to say it back. you should already know.”

“then why did you leave me?”

“i didn’t choose to!”

you close your eyes as everything feels heavy. “can you tell me a story? of what you’ve up to without me?”

“i can’t.” she manages to say around a sob. 

“shoko.”

“yeah?”

“you never took those organs out from my basement.”

“you could have cleared it away when i was gone.”

you smile despite yourself. “that would just have made your disappearance sadder. they reminded me of you.”

you can feel shoko’s body trembling underneath you. taking in a deep breath, and you have an inkling it might just be your last, you manage out a few more words. “i love you.”

but just like how she had left you without a goodbye months ago, you don’t hear whether she replies before you slip away.

You squeeze his hand, he squeezes it twice in return. The cold breeze that brushes past you, making you shiver. Of course, Suguru notices, and pulls you closer.

He's warm. Like a radiating heater. His body practically engulfs you, the cold leaving your body. You let go of his warm hand and place it on his waist, flush against his side.

You and Suguru.

Suguru and you.

Two lovely people on a cold, lovely night, side by side, warmth on warmth. Two lovely people deeply in love. Two lovely people who need each other on cold nights like this.

Cold nights where the darkness of being a sorcerer creeps up on you, strangling you from behind. Cold nights where the last thing you want to be is alone. So, as you bask in each other's company, the darkness far behind you as you make your way towards the light, you're happy you have Suguru by your side.

However, on a cold night like this, where your walking around alone, facing the cold breeze with no one to warm you, you wonder what it felt like in the past. You think, "How did it feel like to have him by my side?" You wonder what he would be doing on a cold night like this, would he still be walking with you, would he be cuddled up in bed, holding you?

You miss his warm hands, his warm body. You missed his warmth that scared all the darkness away. On cold nights like this you miss Suguru the most. You miss his built form, long hair, and warm smile.

You want to hold his hand again, press your self deep into his side. You want to get lost in his eyes, hold gently in your arms, and most of all, you just want to see him once more.

You miss him.

You so badly miss him.

It's been years since he died but on cold nights like this, when the breeze kisses your face, phantom feeling of his hand against yours, you vividly remember him.

You stop walking, taking a moment to absorb these intense feelings,

if only

if only I held him tighter

i should have

You sigh and continue your walk, the darkness of being a sorcerer following closely behind you.