The irritating buzzing and ringing of your alarm wakes you up, your hand almost immediately shooting out to smack the snooze button. You force yourself to sit up, rubbing your tired eyes with your hands and groaning. These few weeks back at school after a long, relaxing summer were insufferable. 

Your room is a collage of you. Fairy lights, perfume samples and band posters taped to the wall, various cameras stored on your shelves, polaroids curling at the edges. The photo booth strip from last April of you and Satoru making dumb faces. A hazy shot of Shoko half asleep in your bed last month. The glow from your old desk lamp highlights last night’s study session, notebooks and textbooks messily scattered across the wooden surface of your desk.

You get dressed slowly, in pieces. Low-rise jeans with a frayed hem and a thin oatmeal-colored sweater that falls just off your shoulder. Your digital camera goes in your tote, the one you took pictures with this past week. Lip gloss, roll-on vanilla perfume, gum, backup batteries. The mascara wand combs through your lashes as you apply a light coat. You brush your teeth and put your earrings on in the bathroom mirror.

You see Shoko pulling in your driveway as you grab your headphones and check your hair in the mirror one last time before going downstairs and slipping your shoes on. It’s humid and gloomy, the warm thickness of the air was almost completely irritating. 

Shoko’s Civic smells like cinnamon and that old perfume she’s been using since sophomore year. She’s got a cigarette between her fingers and an old mug in the cup holder. You slide into the passenger seat, your jeans riding down just enough to feel the cool leather of the seat.

“Hey.” You say, buckling your seat belt as she greets you. You fall into easy conversation.

“You hear who’s in our class now?” she says as she reverses, one hand on the wheel, the other bringing her cigarette to her lips.

“Mm, no?” you say, swiping your gloss along your lips.

“Suguru. Geto. He’s switching into photography.”

You try to play it cool. “Oh. Really?”

She gives you a side-eye. “Don’t act like you don’t know who that is. You’ve been in love with that strange, silent skater aura since, like, you moved here.”

“I’ve literally never spoken to him,” you say, a little too fast. “He’s just… always around.”

“He’s friends with Satoru and I. You’re friends with Satoru and I. That’s, like, a friendship circle. You’re overdue.” 

The truth was, yeah. You did know who he was. You’d known who he was since the beginning of sophomore year when you transferred here. But he was always a figure in the background, standing off to the side when you spoke with Satoru and Shoko. You felt your personalities were too different for the two of you to get along anyway. You tuck your hair behind your ear and look out the window. “He doesn’t even know my name.” You laugh at Sho’s persistence.

She grins like she knows something you don’t. “Bet he does.”

By the time you pull into the school lot, the sun is higher, and the air feels less suffocating. The September weather was unpredictable, and this was one of those days where it still felt like summer. Leaves caught in the breeze, someone in the distance with a skateboard slamming it against the pavement, distant conversations blurring into a sea of voices. Shoko parks half-crooked as always, and you both climb out. She takes one last puff of her cigarette before stomping it out on the cracked asphalt. And then you see him. The man of the hour. 

A dark baggy sweater and jeans just loose enough to look effortless. Hair half-tied up, board tucked under one arm, earbuds in. He’s talking to Satoru and some other brown-haired teen near the curb, nodding along slowly like he’s only half there. Satoru spots you and Sho and shoots you a small wave and a smile.

Suguru glances back. You smile and wave at Satoru, not missing the way the black-haired teen’s gaze seems to be burning a hole in your soul.

Shoko bumps your shoulder. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” you mutter. You adjust your bag over your shoulder.

Room 114 is warmer than outside. Safe. Familiar. You plug your camera into the computer, taking off the lens cap and pretending you don’t notice when Suguru walks in five minutes later, taking the desk diagonally behind you. You shove your headphones into your ears, blissfully ignoring his presence.

But when you open your files, you notice something.

There’s a photo you don’t remember taking. Blurry, probably an accidental click from when you slung your camera on at lunch yesterday. 

He’s in it. Just his back, mid-stride, skateboard tucked under one arm, walking along the fence line. You glance over your shoulder. He’s scrolling through his own shots, one hand resting on his chin.

You turn back to your screen, eyes squinting as you huff. 

You don’t delete the photo.

You edit the lighting just a little. 

And for some strange reason, you save it to your photo album.

What should’ve been a discarded piece of media, left to rot, became a part of your portfolio. Maybe it was the perfect lighting, or the blur of the lens making you feel almost nostalgic. As if the picture wasn’t accidentally taken literally yesterday. Maybe it was the subject. As you click through the rest of the photos from this past week, you decide on a few to keep and add to your final portfolio.

A picture of you in the library, the lens on the other side of the bookshelf, the shot positioned just between two books. A picture of a bird perched on a branch at the lake at sunset from Sunday evening. And the picture of him. It feels as if your hand is acting on its own when it clicks the mouse and dumps the photo of him into its own album, and the others in your portfolio album. A sigh escapes your lips and you feel a hand tap your shoulder. You pull a headphone out of your ear and turn back to see the subject of your thoughts.

“Hey. I think you might’ve dropped this.” Suguru spoke, a black lens cap in his hand. You blink and glance back at your camera, noticing that yes, your lens cap is indeed missing. A soft smile graces your features as you take the cap from his hands.

“Thanks. I probably never would’ve noticed.” You laugh softly, watching as his eyes travel to your computer screen. The picture of the bird at the lake is open on the screen.

“That’s a great shot.” He says coolly, leaning over your shoulder to get a closer look. “You take that?” He glances back at you, and you make eye contact. You smile again.

“Mhm. I just needed some stuff to add to my portfolio.” You say, calmly, watching as he grabs a chair and positions it next to you. You had always thought he was the more reserved type. Guess not? 

“Mind if I look at some more?” He asks, his question catching you off guard. You furrow your brows before nodding and opening your portfolio file. 

“Sure. Knock yourself out.” You lean back in your chair and watch as he scrolls through the pictures, silently thanking yourself for saving his image to a separate file. “I’ve kind of hit a mental block recently, so don’t judge me too hard.” You say, laughing softly. He stops at a particular photo, one of a cloudy day at the lake down near your house. The fog loomed over the water and through the tall, green trees like a blanket. 

“These are cool.” He glances back over at you. “You know, I can always help you if you need. Though, I might be asking you for help soon if you keep getting shots like these.” He laughs smoothly, earning a soft smile from you. 

“Thank you.” You say casually, the conversation flowing easily.

“I’m Suguru. You’re Y/N, right?” So he did know your name.

“Yeah. It’s nice to actually meet you.” You lean your head against your hand on your desk, looking over at him.

“You too. I’ve seen you around with Satoru and Shoko.” 

“I guess it’s about time we actually spoke to each other, huh?” You laugh softly.

“I guess so.” He replies smoothly.

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“But it was like, completely out of nowhere.” You say, your back on the mattress, head facing the ceiling. Lazy string lights hung from the walls, spanning across Shoko’s bedroom like a spiderweb.

“I mean, yeah. That is odd.” Shoko agrees, her fingers fiddling with the necklace that she was unsuccessfully trying to untangle. “But, maybe he just thought to introduce himself because you guys are in the same class now?”

You shake your head. “No, no. It was weirder than that.” You murmur, thinking back on the conversation you shared with Suguru this morning in photography. After that class, your whole day seemed to pass by in a blur, your mind scrambled. The conversation felt casual, but it also felt like it came out of nowhere. It was almost as if he had rehearsed the conversation before actually having it. You couldn’t tell whether that was a good thing or not. 

“He was like… I’ve seen you around with Shoko and Satoru before.” You scoff. “No fucking duh.” You roll your head to the side to look at Shoko. “I’ve literally only hung out with the two of you the entire time I’ve lived here.” You shrug, your fingers twirling in the end of your braid. “And then he was all like, oh I can help you with your shots and stuff but they’re really good.” You try to imitate him, failing miserably. You keep rambling on. “And I was thinking, like, obviously my shots are good. Have you ever met me?” You groan. 

“Well, newsflash,” Shoko starts, her words ending abruptly with a giggle after you glare at her. 

“Shut up.” You mumble. “I mean yeah, sure, he’s cool. And I’m glad we’re talking to each other for once instead of just pretending the other doesn’t exist. But.. why now?” You squint, your thoughts getting jumbled up. “We graduate in, like, 9 months.” You scoff, trying to think. 

“Maybe that’s why?” Shoko starts. “I don’t know. I mean, I know Suguru, but he isn’t usually very open with his emotions and everything.” She shrugs, a soft sigh falling from your lips. 

“Whatever.” You say, dropping the subject.

By the time you were walking back home, it was dark. The warm lights illuminated the streets as the sounds of crickets and distant wind filled your ears. It was warm and humid. It was peaceful.

Your front door opened with a creak, the old wood slamming into the door frame as it shut behind you. Your wooden steps whined as you climbed upstairs. A sigh of relief escaped your lips as you shut your bedroom door behind you, safe in the sanctuary of your room. The air conditioning buzzed in your ears, a constant background noise that you had learned to tune out. 

The USB inserted into the side of your laptop with a click as you logged in and started going through the rest of your photos from this week. Your personal favorite was the one of Shoko walking along the old train tracks last Saturday night. Her arms out to balance herself and the flash shining on her back and the metal of the tracks beneath her feet. The dark sky above her was flooded with stars. 

Your adoring trance is broken by a light “ding” coming from your cell. You flip it open and see one new message from Satoru.

“Want to tell me why Suguru suddenly wants your number?”

It dings again. 

“Is there something you’re not telling me? ;)”

You groan, pressing the call button. You did not have the energy to type out a full explanation for him.

“Hey, gorgeous.” He purrs in that insufferable tone he uses every time he tries to helplessly flirt.

“Satoru. Shut up.” You quickly shut him down. “What was your text about?”

“Someone’s grumpy.” He mumbles before continuing. “Nothing. Just the fact that Suguru was talking about you all of a sudden. Said something about photography class, your number, blah blah blah… I kind of tuned him out after I heard your name.” You swear you can hear his smirk through the phone.

“Did you give it to him?” You ask, leaning back in your chair.

“Give him what?” You groan at his stupidity.

“My number, idiot.” You yell through the phone.

“Obviously not.” He says plainly.

“Why?!” You whine, more pissed off than you had been originally.

“Because.” He replies, immediately changing the subject. “So, are you guys friends now? You and Suguru?”

You think. “I mean, I don’t know. We spoke to each other in class, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Fucking finally, jeez.” He sighs. “I swear you guys have known about each other for years and you have never spoken. Pretty weird if you ask me. Plus..” He trails off, mumbling something you couldn’t hear. 

“What?” You ask, almost yelling into the phone again. 

“Nothing. Just glad you guys are… friends?” He laughs. “Anyway. I’ll see you tomorrow. Make sure you bring that jacket I let you borrow last week.”

You sigh, glancing back at the brown, worn, jacket that Satoru had let you borrow when you went to his band’s show downtown. The band that Suguru also happened to be in. It was like you couldn’t escape him recently.

“Okay. Bye.” You say as you flip your phone shut. 

You make your way to the corner of your room and grab the jacket off of the edge of your standing mirror. You hold it in your hands, the worn fabric rippling beneath the touch of your fingers. Bringing it up to your face, it smells of cologne and smoke, hints of your perfume scattered through the scent. Basically, it smelled like Satoru. The scent that would flood your senses when he pulled you in for a hug or put his arm around you. Shaking off the weird feeling that overcame you, you throw the jacket over your backpack so you remember it in the morning and get yourself ready for bed. 

The morning is a constant routine. Soft music plays from your CD player as you finish dusting on your blush and start glossing your lips. Your fingers curl into the sectioned pieces of your hair as you braid it back, pulling a few strands loose in the front. Your tight cable-knit long sleeve was pulled over your white tank, the hem reaching your hips, a jean skirt on the top of your legs. The smell of your perfume is quickly enveloped by the scent of Satoru’s jacket as you scoop it in your arms and throw your bag over your shoulder. 

“Hey.” Shoko greets you with a yawn as you shut the door to her Civic. An easy routine that you quickly fell into. You sigh and place Satoru’s jacket on your lap as you buckle yourself in. 

“That Satoru’s?” She asks, her eyes on the road as she pulls out of the driveway. 

“Yeah. He let me borrow it last week for their show.” You hum, Shoko nodding out of your peripheral. The smell of her car was nostalgic and comfy, discarded cigarettes and papers scattered around the back. The familiar turn into the school lot jolts you out of your tired trance, a groan falling from your lips as Sho parks. You two exchange easy conversation as you walk up to Satoru, Suguru, and a few of the other people they hung out with. 

“Toru!” You yell, walking up to the group. The head of white hair turns to you with a smile as you approach him.

“Hey, thanks.” He takes the jacket from your hands. “I would’ve let you keep it, but it’s my favorite.” He says with a wink. You scoff and roll your eyes, about to walk away before you see Suguru walk up beside him, his board under his arm.

“Hey, Y/N.” He says smoothly, his eyes gliding along your frame. You shoot him a small smile. 

“Hi, Suguru.” You glance at his shirt. A worn graphic tee with “The Smiths” printed on it. “Nice shirt.” You gesture toward it nonchalantly, meeting his gaze again, Satoru seeming like a character in the background. 

“Thanks.” He says, almost surprised. “You like The Smiths?” He quirks a brow before you giggle softly. 

“I love them. They’re one of my favorites.” A smile stays on your lips as you try to continue the conversation, Satoru’s loud voice cutting you off. 

“Sorry to break this up, but we do have a show tomorrow night. Don’t we, Suguru?” He jabs his elbow into his gut, eliciting a groan from the dark-haired teen’s mouth. He seems to come to his senses before going off of Satoru’s words.

“Yeah, we do.” 

“Andddd, you’re coming.” Satoru pokes at your shoulder as you groan. “You don’t have a choice!” He says, his stare almost lethal. 

“Fine. I’ll see you tomorrow night.” You huff at him. “You too, Suguru.” You smile softly before heading inside and making your way to English, not missing Satoru’s irritated look toward his best friend.

You spend your Friday night at home editing your pictures on your laptop. The slow software was making you almost rip your hair out as the soft sounds of crickets and whistling trees echoed outside your window. After a long while of tweaking and changing the exposure and the lighting of your photos to perfection, you force yourself to sleep. Not without feeling a strange excitement bubble in yourself for the show tomorrow night. It’s weird. You never really felt like this before. Was it Satoru? Maybe it was the thought that Suguru would be there. But he’s always there. He’s literally the lead guitarist. Things just felt different lately. You force your eyes shut and shove away your thoughts. 

Getting ready for the show is a blur. Loud music playing through your room as you squeeze a low rise mini skirt over your thighs and pull a dark blue top onto yourself. You smear your eyeliner and cover your lashes in mascara, glossing your lips as Shoko continues to blare her horn from your drive way. You groan and spray an unhealthy amount of perfume on yourself, coughing as the strong scent invades your throat. You grab your camera bag and take one last look at yourself before padding down the stairs quickly, not bothering to shut your door or turn off your music. You grab a worn leather jacket and shrug it over your shoulders as you walk out of the house.

Shoko gives you a look as you fall into the passenger seat, a huff of air shoving itself from your lungs. 

“Who you looking this good for?” She smiles and glances along your figure. 

“Nobody.” You shrug, looking out the window as Sho laughs and turns up her music, a lit cigarette smoking between her fingers. You watch as her glossed lips purse around the cigarette, smoke flooding from her lips and out of the open driver’s seat window. The drive is relatively quick, the cramped lots downtown irritating Shoko as she tries to find parking. 

The dingy venue is filled with people, a handful you recognized from school. You and Shoko make your way through the dense crowd, the dim lighting not helping as you gripped onto her hand for support. The crowds always surprise you, considering they were just some amateur cover band. As the two of you shoved your way to the front, closest to the stage, you saw them. Satoru was adjusting his mic stand, Suguru was tuning his guitar, someone who you knew as Choso was on drums, toying with his wooden sticks idly, and that big guy with the pink hair was grumbling about something as he clutched his bass to his torso. Sukuna? You had heard his name in passing, and you were sure you had a class or two with his younger brother. 

You and Shoko talk mindlessly before Satoru steps up to the mic and speaks. Your mind filters it out as your eyes follow Suguru, who was looking at his best friend tiredly. As they begin playing, you immediately recognize the opening guitar line. You meet eyes with Suguru and you smile brightly. It’s as if he knew. 

“This Charming Man” by The Smiths.

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taglist: @nanamisbbygirl

track one . . . "you're not the only one i know"

track two . . . "this charming man"

track three . . . "dirty little secret"

track four . . . "paper bag"

track five . . . "undone"

track six . . . "drain you"

track seven . . . "scotty doesn't know"

track eight . . . "wrong way"

track nine . . . "come as you are"

track ten . . . "here's where the story ends"