stardust veil

xavier, wc: 394

you’re used to hearing people talk about your tics behind your back, whether it be asking others in hushed voices why you were making faces or laughing and making fun of you. it, unfortunately, came with the territory of having a visible disorder, people don’t tend to care enough to learn about it and make assumptions based on what they see.

work was no different. your coworkers mostly kept their comments behind your back, but they occasionally slipped through the cracks.

a new hunter hadn’t noticed that you and xavier had walked into the break room, his back to you as he talked to another hunter. “i mean, how do they even function like that? surely it’s not safe, how can you dodge a wanderer when you can’t keep your eyes forward?”

another hunter laughs and nods. “it makes them an easy target. maybe xavier helped them cheat through the entrance exams.”

the two laughed until you cleared your throat, raising an eyebrow at them when they turned to face you.

both hunters look behind you, eyes landing on xavier, and they backtrack. “oh, we weren’t talking about you-”

“yes you were.” xavier interrupts, his head tilts slightly but his voice retaine its usual calmness. “you must have never watched them train if you think they only passed the hunters exams because i helped them cheat.”

the two remain quiet, embarrassed flushes rises on their cheeks and necks. they stand with their hands crossed in front of them, looking up at xavier anxiously.

“they’re perfectly capable of this job and anything else they decide to set their mind to. having a disability doesn’t make someone useless- it’s important that you don’t treat them like they are.”

“of course, i’m so sorry xavier.” one of the hunters says, echoed by the other.

xavier's brows wrinkle slightly in confusion. “why are you apologizing to me? i’m not the one you insulted.”

the hunters turn to you and blabber out apologizes, which you begrudgingly accept, then scamper off somewhere to lick their wounds.

xavier’s hand meets the small of your back, his thumb rubs in soothing circles, letting you know that he’s there, but not babying you. never babying you.

“ready for our mission?” xavier asks you with a grin, not asking you how you are because he knows you’re perfectly fine.

you smile and nod. “ready.”

rafayel, wc: 367

rafayel had a winking problem. not one that you judged him for, of course, given your own winking problem (brought to you by your tourettes), but a problem nonetheless.

he’d only started doing it recently and it was frequent. out at a fancy restaurant? he’s winking at you. walking on the beach? another wink. laying in bed cuddling each other? you guessed it.

you didn’t necessarily mind it at first, thinking he was flirting with you, but he just… kept doing it.

even when the situation wasn’t romantic he would still wink at you- like after a long night out resulting in your head in rafayel’s lap on your cold bathroom floor.

you decided one day to count how many times he would wink at you in a day, curiosity pulling at you.

by dinner time, he was up to 15 winks.

you were stirring a pot of soup and chatting with rafayel when he chuckled quietly and winked at you, a sweet lovesick smile on his face. sighing, you let go of the soup spoon and face him fully.

“my love, you know i would never judge you, but why do you keep doing that?” you ask, unable to quell your curiosity.

rafayel places a hand on his hip and regards you, his head tilted slightly and his purple hair falling in front of his eyes. “doing what?”

you sigh, hoping you don’t offend him. “winking at me.”

“i’m just winkin back at you, cutie.” he says, smiling and toying with a piece of your hair. “i’m allowed to flirt back with my partner, aren’t i?”

you take in his words and double over laughing, forcing your words out. “that’s one of my tics, i’ve not been winking at you this whole time- you’ve been accidentally mocking me.”

rafayel’s smile drops and his face instantly pales. “no! no, i haven’t been mocking you on purpose, i’m sorry my pearl- i was just trying to flirt with you!”

rafayel’s begging and apologies continue on throughout the night, him on his knees at your feet while you cook, his hands on your knees and his pretty eyes looking up at you- all while you laugh in his face.

zayne, wc: 566

having tourettes meant having some days better than others. some days you didn’t even notice your tics, but other days… were like today.

from the second you opened your eyes this morning, you knew it was going to be a rough day. your breakfast lay scattered across the floor from where you unintentionally shoved it across the counter and your hair remains tangled, unable to run the brush through your hair without smacking yourself in the head with the hard plastic.

seeing that it was no use in trying to do much of anything, you decided to take some medicine to kill the headache forming in all areas of your skull and try to nap it off- some help that did.

hours passed and you’d yet to fall asleep. wonderful. your tics hadn’t eased up in the slightesr, if anything they’d gotten worse, just like the pounding in your head.

of all days for this to happen it just had to happen on the one day off you managed to snag with zayne.

he’d been called into the hospital early for an emergency, but his text promised he’d be back by 6 in time to get ready for your dinner date.

the apartment door clicked shut exactly at 6 and you jumped out of bed, rushing to your nightstand in an attempt to brush your hair before zayne saw you in this state.

unfortunately, the only thing zayne saw was you hitting yourself in the head with your brush and your fist smacking your side unintentionally.

he frowned and walked over to you, gently taking the brush from your hands and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “bad day?”

you huff and stay facing away from him, face red with shame. “it’s fine. i’m getting ready and then we can go.”

while walking into the bathroom, you run into the doorway as your headache, now turned migraine, has decided to take up right behind your eyes, whiting out most of your vision.

“come lay down with me.” zayne says gently, his hands on your waist as he directs you to the bed.

you groan and dig your heels into the floor. “no! zayne, we’re going to be late for dinner if we don’t get ready-”

zayne hums and pulls you to sit beside him on the bed, fingers rubbing at the area on your ribs that he knows you hit often when your attacks get bad. “i… don’t mean to disappoint you, my love, but i’m feeling a little tired. would you be opposed to us staying in for the night? i’ll order delivery.”

you glare in his direction, knowing he’s not tired in the slightest and just doing this to make you feel better about needing to stay home.

“mmh. fine. but only because you're tired.” you lay down and pull zayne down on top of you, the pressure helping your body relax.

zayne cradles your head to him and huffs out a laugh. “of course.”

for the next several hours, zayne stayed with you through your tic attack, comforting you. once the food was delivered, he fed you small bites so you wouldn’t end up spilling the food like you did with your breakfast- which he cleaned up in the kitchen.

zayne never once made you feel bad for canceling plans because of your tourettes, always helping you manage them the best he could.

caleb, wc: 343

caleb was in your shared kitchen refilling your waterbottle while you animatedly tell your friends the rules to a game on the tv. he smiled at your excitement.

gideon walked into the kitchen and punched caleb in the shoulder in greeting, refilling his own cup with soda. “hey, man.”

caleb nodded. “whats up gid?”

gideon paused while screwing the cap back onto the soda bottle. “can i ask you something out of innocent curiosity?”

“mmhm, what’s up?” caleb screwed your waterbottle lid back on and turned to his friend, head tilted while he waits.

“why do they keep making faces?”

caleb’s brows furrowed in thought, turning to look at you. you were just smiling and laughing, not doing anything strange. “what, smiling? i dunno, why do you smile, gid?” he joked, thinking gideon was messing with him.

gideon scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, feeling like an ass for even bringing it up. “no, no, not the smiling- the smiling is great, if you ask me everyone should smile-”

“aaaany day now.” caleb drawls out, smiling at his friends awkward rambling.

gideon sighed deeply and came out with it. “i mean how they scrunch their nose and stretch their mouth open. there’s nothing wrong with it, of course, i was just curious as to why they do it.”

caleb turned back to look at you, zeroing in on your features. sure enough, you were doing the things gideon mentioned and more. he’d spent so much time with you that he didn’t even notice your tics anymore, they were just… a part of you.

this was something about caleb that you appreciated deeply. he didn’t treat you any differently because of your tourettes, and he didn’t bring attention to them.

it was comforting knowing that you could be unapologetically yourself around caleb and he wouldn’t bat an eye or laugh at you. it was a relief that you didn’t have to worry about him mocking you or talking down on you because of your disability.

caleb explained your situation to gideon, the end.

a/n pt2: can you tell i ran out of energy with caleb's? i hurried up and 'finished' it for this hehe. i couldn't for the life of me think of a unique idea for sylus :,) also ik this is not my best work at all, especially caleb's. i'm still trying to connect with him again after losing him hmmmmm.

tags: @colonelkaboom @sweetcalebb @heartyluv @rafayelkisses @wetforsylus @angeleclair @insidious-innocence @xaviersbunny @deepspacenova @silverianni @paintedperidot @luvleixo @gardenialily @xinghuisknight

But you’d been so stuck in all this muck, sucked down deeper the more you tried to squirm your way out of it, you couldn’t even tell which way was up anymore. Searching for any sign of familiarity when everything had already changed without you.

What if all there was for you to figure out here was that they’d left you behind?

Suguru would learn his lesson and treat his next girl better. Satoru would find someone who could return all his love.

And Sukuna would fix himself just to find out he never needed you at all.

“Do you want Sukuna to go on tour?” His therapist softly prodded you, snapping you out of your spiraling.

“I don’t know,” you defensively answered, too on edge to match his polite tone.

“How does him staying make you feel?” He questioned, and you could only shrug your shoulders.

“Don’t be like that,” Sukuna grumbled, and you shot him an annoyed glare.

You were only here because of him.

Was that not enough to see you were at least trying?

“It makes me feel irritated, I guess,” you begrudgingly admitted. “Like he’s throwing away everything he's ever given a shit about when I never asked him to.”

You wanted to be included. To be a part of his life and not a piece of furniture in it. To be there by his side when he succeeded.

Not have him give it all up just so the two of you could make each other miserable just for the slim chance you managed to work out.

"I'm not-"

"He always makes these dumbass decisions without me and just expects me to go along with whatever it is," you added, ignoring him next to you as you finally met his therapist's gaze.

He had introduced himself when you first walked in and you hadn't really paid any attention to it, a twinge of guilt seeping through at the amount of understanding behind his eyes.

"So you feel left out," he concluded, and you immediately revoked your remorse.

"No," you lied, a traitorous little huff escaping your lips.

"That's not what I'm trying to do," Sukuna argued, seeing through your shit. "I, fuck, I just want to be here for you, okay?"

You wanted to accept that.

So so so badly.

That piece of your heart that had belonged to him from the start was already trying to tug you towards him, begging you to just stop being a brat and go back to being his.

But you weren't the girl you'd been before.

Not the one who warmed his bed or waited for him after his shows or wished for a happy ending.

And you no longer knew if you'd ever be able to be the partner he needed.

Shouldn't he be with someone he wouldn't have to cancel tours for? Someone it didn't hurt him to want? Someone who wouldn't wreck the world he worked for?

"What happens when you wake up a few years from now and realize that you shouldn't have stayed? Or when we break up?" You argued, getting the awful sense it would be the last time you'd be asking either question. "You're going to resent me."

"For fucks sake, I'm not," he flat-out denied it, annoyance creeping into his harsh features at the fact he had to say it.

But it didn't make you feel better.

What were you supposed to say to make him see what you meant?

"All we've done lately is make each other's lives worse," you muttered.

Your sex tape was leaked. He assaulted your ex-boyfriend. You slept with your ex's best friend. He was cancelling his tour.

This wasn't sustainable.

God, he'd even gone and bought you a fucking apartment like the guilt of fucking Satoru was still burned into your skin.

"You have been the only light in my entire life," Sukuna half-growled, reaching across the couch to grab your hand, his calloused fingers gripping you like he needed you to believe him too.

You hated yourself for not being able to.

For thinking of all the times you'd seen him smile at someone else, or smirk up on an illuminated stage, hearing his voice calling out to an adoring crowd. Knowing that you only got the pieces of him he chose to gave you and being okay with it for so fucking long.

And because you had a habit of making every situation infinitely more terrible, you directed your attention back to the therapist who felt a lot more like a referee as you stiffly rolled your shoulders back.

"Did he tell you about my sex tape?"

The next four seconds could probably get an award for the most awkward silence imaginable, you staring at the therapist, who was looking over at Sukuna, who was surely scowling at you.

"Do you think that's seriously relevant right-

"I mean, I just wanted to know how much he already knew," you bickered back, trying to sneak your hand away from his only for him to hold on tighter.

"I would prefer if we stopped interrupting each other so we can have a more, ah, productive conversation," his therapist piped up.

Your skin was itchy.

Invisible bugs crawling over it that you were desperate to scratch and peel off, every word exchanged and sentence that sunk in just making all of it more unbearable.

Familiar indecision crippling you, twisted and contorted as you tried to resist falling into the trap of falling for Sukuna again and refusing to let yourself get hurt by him.

Were you just going to lose in the end either way?

"Do you think this, uh, sex tape is going to be an issue if you resume a relationship with Sukuna?" The therapist continued, and you at least knew the answer to that one.

"Yeah," you muttered, loathing the defeat in your voice.

"Why is that?"

Because it'll be over the day he watches what's on it?

That was it, wasn't it? What everything boiled down to?

Your own fear that if you accepted his love, he'd take it back the second he saw another side of you.

"Are you scared to say it?" His therapist unhelpfully prodded, and you had the distinct feeling of your heart being dissected. Layers of you peeled back and pried open until they were watching it beat and bleed.

"Whatever's on it, I-"

"You'll hate me," you murmured.

Oops. You guessed you interrupted him again.

"I'm not going to hate you," he insisted, and without even looking to your right, you could picture his expression. The gritted teeth, the grim stare. Eye twitching as he restrained himself from rolling them.

"I told Suguru I loved him in it," you confessed, as if that was the worst of your crimes.

Sucking on the inside of your cheek as you stared down at your bare wrist. Aware of the bracelet that had been stolen from you.

Torn away like your chance of a happily ever after.

"Sukuna," the man across from you evenly spoke, maybe sensing the tension crackling between you as your words sank in for him as he scribbled something down on the paper in his lap. "Does that change how you feel? Or-"

"It just makes me hate him more," he grumbled, and you shrunk closer to the edge of the couch. But what he said next just left you wishing you'd never shown up at all, "Makes me hate myself more too."

"Why do you think that is?"

You shouldn't be here.

You shouldn't hear this.

"Because she never would've fallen in love with him for the first place if I hadn't been such a dickhead in denial when I had her," Sukuna snapped, his raw voice threatening to crack. "It's my fault she even met him."

"You can't blame yourself for everything," his therapist tried to reassure him, but you were casting a cautious glance over to see Sukuna scratching the back of his hair with an emotion that looked a lot like shame on his face.

So distracted by how foreign it felt to see him like this, your brain didn't even realize the man across from you was speaking to you until he repeated his question.

"Is there anything you feel that you might be culpable for here too?"

A lot?

It would be a pretty long list if you started just naming off every messy thing you'd done since you decided you were done sleeping with Sukuna.

"This is a safe place where you can be honest and we'll work through it," he added, offering you a smile that actually seemed sincere.

Your lips slowly began to part, ready to just ruin it all. Put it all on the table and lose if you had to.

At least you wouldn't be in this limbo anymore.

"I had sex with Satoru," you admitted, hot tears you hadn't been expecting starting to well up before you blinked them back. "He was there in the tape too, but uh, we didn't really do anything until he showed up on vacation."

"You slept with Gojo?"

And there it was.

The rage.

You'd spent years trying to tame him, dousing him in water before his flames could turn into wildfires.

But maybe you were just fueling it.

"We were both drunk and just having fun, and I don't know, I asked him to come inside my room," you offered an explanation, not sure if it was even owed or if you were throwing gasoline on him once again.

"What the fuck?" He hissed.

You waited for him to say he was going to murder or maim Satoru, to make threats or ask what the hell were you thinking.

To ask why.

"I'm sorry," you swallowed your pride, offering a pitiful bob of your shoulders. "I know we're not together but it was still shitty of me to do."

Sukuna wasn't your boyfriend.

He'd never been your boyfriend.

But you weren't stupid enough to think that it made what happened totally fine.

Completely forgivable.

And maybe, some part of you didn't want him to forgive you.

Craved to not have to make the hard choice at all and force him to do it for you. To abandon you the way you had always suspected he would.

"Why would you-"

"It seems to me that you're trying to sabotage your relationship with Sukuna by sleeping with someone you know would upset him," the therapist hummed, and you faltered.

Physically flinched as you reflexively itched to reject it.

Yet you couldn't.

Just sitting there like an idiot and blinking back.

"You're scared of being with him."

You were.

But did he have to actually say it out loud?

You were bending over to snatch your bag from the floor rather than deal with it, ignoring both of them saying your name as you started towards the door, shoving it open and leaving rather than hear them break down all your inner thoughts.

If your head was clearer, not so clouded and stuffed full with him, you might've figured you wouldn't have made it out of the building without Sukuna catching up to you.

He grabbed your hand right as you reached the door, trying to stop you from going, but you just shook him off, stepping out into the rain as he followed suit.

“Can you please stop for a second?” Sukuna groaned, and you were once again reminded of another night you’d been shoving down.

One where you asked him if he loved you and he couldn’t answer.

“I don’t want to talk right now,” you childishly mumbled, convinced that if you do, you’d start crying, and if you crumbled, you’d let him console you.

“Then I will,” he stubbornly insisted.

The immature urge to cover your ears and pretend you couldn’t hear him was incredibly tempting, but you just paused in place, limbs threatening to tremble as the rain soaked through both of you.

"Just forget about the fucking past," he scoffed, grabbing you by the waist and spinning you around practically straight into his chest. “Can't this be enough? Can't I be enough?"

"How am I supposed to forget?" You retorted, poking a finger against his annoyingly firm muscles as you tried to pull back. "You don't get it. I literally lost everything, I-"

"I lost you," he snarled. "The albums, the money, the fame, they’re nothing to me.”

Now.

Why couldn’t he have realized that a year ago and saved you both the heartbreak?

“You’re my everything, okay? What the hell do I have to do? Get on my knees for you? Carve out my fucking heart and hand it over on a silver platter?” He was rambling, raindrops clinging to his lashes as he grabbed your finger and pulled it down.

“You’re supposed to be mad at me. I fucked Satoru while you were out buying me a beautiful apartment. Shouldn’t you be like, shouting or screaming, or something?” You argued, a fresh stab of hurt joining the rest seeing the way he recoiled from you when you pointed it out.

“So what?” He tried to sound tough.

Like he didn’t care when he so clearly did.

“Maybe you should watch the sex tape,” you shrugged, struggling not to shake, to be strong enough to say everything you needed to say. “See if you still think you love me then.”

“Stop saying shit like that,” he snapped, and it just made you more sure of your suspicions. “You are sabotaging us.”

“I think I need some more space,” you mumbled, knowing he was right and still refusing to admit it.

“You’re just running away from me. And I’ll be back at home tonight wondering whose fucking arms you’re in and why they’re so much better than mine,” he accused, finally letting a hint of that anger out. You felt a tiny hint of pride, knowing that he was finally getting the full experience of what he put you through for years.

But the truth was you were running away.

Avoiding him to avoid hurting yourself any more.

You only seemed to hurt him more when you were with him anyway.

Without you, Sukuna was doing great. He’d always been perfectly fine to fend for himself.

You didn’t want to stick around for when the sentiment wore off and it struck him you were the source of all his woes.

“Don’t be an idiot. Go on tour. Be there for the band,” you added, resignation replacing your regret as you sold yourself another half-truth that you were doing what was the best for both of you.

“Come back inside so we can actually talk about it,” he said, teeth gritted.

“I can’t,” you swallowed, shaking your head.

The idea of turning around and walking back into the building was too much. Sniffling as you wiped a wet streak from your face.

“I miss being your friend, but I really don’t know how to be anything with you right now,” you confessed, pulling yourself away from him even if it felt like you were cutting some heavy invisible cord connecting your soul to his.

It was selfish.

Impulsive.

Acting like a scared child ducking under a table just from a thunderstorm, before any lightning had even struck.

But it was the truth.

You loved Sukuna.

You just didn’t want him to destroy himself by trying to love you back.

He had been enough for you.

But now you weren’t good for each other.

He didn’t follow you this time.

Didn’t trail after you when you stormed off.

Sukuna let you go.

You didn’t stop until you were several blocks away, the drizzle from earlier turned into a torrential downpour, hair soaked and sticking to your face as you struggled to contain your tears.

How the fuck were you supposed to go back to the apartment he bought you?

Go sleep in that bed or curl up under the covers when you’d be seeing that haunted hurt look on his face every time you closed your eyes?

They were right about you.

You wished you were different.

Wished you could just be okay with all of it and pretend to be totally fine moving forward instead of standing on the sidewalk completely soaked as you stifled sobs.

Someone passed by under an umbrella, their shoulder nearly knocking into you as you looked up just in time to see them snickering and snapping a photo.

Disgust coiling bright and hot and unbearable at the realization this stranger had seen you naked - and now had the audacity to laugh at you for it.

Rather than panic, you reacted on impulse, taking the phone out of the dickhead’s hand and throwing it onto the concrete before stomping on it for good measure. Glaring right back at him as you dug the base of your foot into the shattered glass as you forced the lump back down your throat.

“I think you dropped that.”

“You fucking whore-”

Yeah, you were sure people were saying worse online.

But nothing could really compare to leaving someone you loved behind because you were too fucking terrified to let them love you too.

You shut him out the way you just shut Sukuna out.

Walking without really thinking until your teeth were chattering and it hit you that you weren’t sure where you were anymore.

Déjà vu washing over you as you looked up at the stormy sky, bottom lip quivering as you pulled out your phone to call the same person you had last time.

Suguru.

a/n: not gonna be online much in the next couple days but hope you guys enjoyed this

You had been pretty closed off. Keeping all of them at a distance, claiming you just wanted to focus on final exams, avoiding actually interacting unless it was in group settings. Fuck, he even texted Sukuna to see if you were still going to work, but you had stopped answering his messages after your argument. Recoiled back into your shell and desperate to repair the cracks in it you let them see.

So much for giving you a great send-off for the school year before graduation.

Did you feel like it ended for you the same way it started? Alone?

Or did you at least consider them your friends now?

Graduation had come and gone without a change. Your parents didn't even show up to watch you receive your diploma. And you ditched all the after parties for the comfort of your room - although Satoru had cancelled the big blow-out barbecue he'd been planning previously, still turning people away from his door the rest of the afternoon and into the night who showed up expecting one of his usual ragers. Even though you were both living together, Satoru had told him that he saw the kittens more than you.

But despite your distance, you'd still decided to come with them to the post-grad trip they'd been planning before all of this stupid shit had started to spiral.

Suguru hadn't been sure if you wanted to come though, or if this was just another thing your parents had pushed you to do.

He guessed he couldn't complain this time.

Not when it meant he'd actually get a week where he could try to bridge the distance, to break through the barricades you'd hastily rebuilt around your heart.

You couldn't exactly run or retreat from your feelings when you'd be spending your nights under the same roof and your days on the beach together.

Especially with no Sukuna to steal you away.

You were the only reason he was even able to be here now.

Suguru couldn't go back in time. Couldn't talk himself into having the courage to just talk to you in person instead of letting himself get catfished.

The best he could do was cling to whatever tiny chance he could find to change your fate and his.

"How are you?" He asked, clearing his throat as he took half a step closer to you. Hoping his hand would just happen to brush against yours. Aching to just lace his fingers with yours to feel like a couple one more time.

"Okay," you mumbled shyly, trying to smile at him like he wouldn't be able to see it didn't reach your eyes.

You smiled at Satoru.

Why the fuck did he always have it so much easier?

"His mom wanted me to come, but I'm actually pretty excited," you added, attempting to lighten the mood. Nudging against him playfully, your glossy lips catching the light.

"Have you been there before?" Suguru asked, forcing himself to make the conversation casual.

To not sour it by being too serious.

He didn't want to disappoint you. To ruin an ounce of your fun when you had a lifetime of it ripped from you.

"No," you shook your head, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "But I heard it's beautiful."

"I can think of something prettier," he evenly hummed, the words slipping out reflexively as your mouth clamped shut abruptly, shoulders going stiff as your eyes widened with surprise.

Shit.

He shouldn't have said that.

But it was too late to take it back, and honestly, he didn't really want to.

"I don't think you should flirt with your best friend's fiancée," you finally said after a long pause, reluctantly meeting his stare like you didn't want to be saying it.

"You wouldn't be his fiancée if it was up to you," Suguru responded, as if you needed the reminder.

Did it make him an asshole?

He didn't know. He sorta felt like he didn't know anything these days. Fumbling to find his footing when the world just kept crumbling, the crack between you growing by the day.

"It's not up to me," you murmured, no tears welling up in your eyes today, but a resigned sort of sadness that somehow made it all worse.

"You're not married yet," Suguru pressed, throwing a quick look over to where Satoru was still standing in line, playing on his phone rather than paying attention to the conversation happening behind him.

"Suguru," you said his name so softly, so considerately, he could hear what was coming before you even opened your mouth again. Well fucking aware you were about to confirm everything he'd been worried about in the past couple weeks with just your next shaky sigh. "I know it sucks, but I'm trying to just deal with it."

You were folding.

All your alone time lately was surely you talking yourself into this. Disentangling yourself, slowly snipping away all the heartstrings tying you to them in a matter of self-preservation. Convincing yourself you'd be okay, that they would all be if you played the martyr.

"You shouldn't have to-"

"I know," you stopped him, offering an apologetic smile as you rested your palm on his forearm. "I'm just tired of making things messier than they should be."

"There's nothing wrong with you wanting more out of your life than," he bluntly retorted, gesturing over to Satoru without really meaning to, fumbling for his next words, for the right thing to say to make you see that it was too soon for you to give up. "Than this."

Than marrying a man you didn't pick and punishing yourself for just craving human connection.

"I don't know," you mumbled, removing your hand from him as he resisted the urge to grab your shoulders and shake you out of this. The most he could do was follow after you, snagging your wrist and spinning you back around to face him. His pretty girl. Helpless and hurt. Looking at him with those tender eyes as your lips parted again, "I feel like all I really did was hurt you and Sukuna."

Like you weren't the one hurting even more.

As if either of them were fucking scared of your mother.

What the hell did he have to do to make you see he couldn't care less about the repercussions if it meant you would be happy?

"Don't worry about us," he grimaced, sure that Sukuna would probably say the same thing. Might actually shake you too if he overheard this bullshit. "You're the one-"

"Who can make it easier on everyone," you stopped him, before awkwardly coughing to clear your throat, tilting your head to the side to signal that a certain someone was coming back.

"Am I interrupting something?" Satoru chirped, passing you a small pink drink with a cheeky smile.

"No," you answered before Suguru could, his jaw clenching tight as he watched your lips wrap around the straw to take a slow sip.

"I think they're gonna start boarding soon."

And Suguru had already screwed things up from the start.

Keeping to himself as the three of you returned to the rest of your small group, letting them talk as he watched your reactions, studied the way you played with your fingernails. You had painted them purple, a soft shade with a fresh coat of lacquer over it.

You kept catching him looking, your lips pushing out in a pout as you tried to nudge him with your elbow to get him to stop staring.

Suguru wasn't sure he could stop if he tried.

Which, uh, he didn't.

Just eyed you a little more discreetly instead, pretending to listen and nod along to whatever they were talking about while his brain raced to work out how the hell he'd get through to you.

He promised Sukuna he would.

Swore that he'd make sure you wouldn't throw in the towel before either of them had managed to make their first move.

And while he worked on winning you back, making you believe that there was still a chance, your former boss had begrudgingly sworn to take care of the cats - and look into your parents while they were occupied with wedding planning.

He doubted your mother hadn't made it this far without making more enemies other than her daughter.

But even if she hadn't, how hard could it really be for Sukuna to break in and steal a few documents without getting caught?

They might live in a gated community, but that just meant they were probably the type to leave their doors unlocked.

"You want help with that?" He muttered, gesturing to your bag once you both made it on the plane, Satoru a few steps ahead while you stared down at the ticket in your hand. "What's your seat number?"

You held it out for him to see, and he felt a rare flicker of relief return to him.

"You're next to me."

Thank fuck.

He took that back about three seconds later at the realization Satoru was sitting in the same row.

You would be sandwiched between them.

“I kind of thought you’d both be in first class,” Suguru admitted, pushing your luggage up overhead as you slid into the seat, your knee already brushing against Satoru's as he manspread in his typical oblivious fashion. Satoru was already staring out the window, bright blue eyes squinting at the runaway before looking back to chuckle.

“And leave you back here bored without us?”

His mouth curled up in a smile, but Suguru was still childishly stuck on us.

Knowing there was nothing he could do but pretend he didn’t care, that envy hadn’t crawled under his skin and started slithering towards his heart when he had to sit next to you and listen to you casually chat with his best friend - who might really end up your husband if he couldn’t come up with something soon.

If Sukuna did manage to get the rest of your documents, would that be enough for you?

What would make you feel safe enough to snip yourself free from their control?

“i guess they must have given you your passport back,” he muttered, leaning in to talk closer to your ear.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if she tries to take it back afterwards,” you mumbled, pulling your passport free from your pocket and passing it to him.

For a girl with ridiculously wealthy parents, there were barely any stamps in it.

He flipped through it again, as if it would magically make more appear, pausing on the photo of you that was clearly taken more than a couple years ago.

“Look at you,” he hummed, drawing out the syllables as he stared at your picture. You were as close as you could get to frowning at the camera without your lips physically curling down, eyes burning with something you’d lost somewhere along the last few years.

“I was having a bad day,” you huffed, nose scrunching up as you snatched it back from him and stuffed it in your pocket.

How many good ones did you get?

Suguru pulled out his own, holding it out for you to assess, enjoying the way your expression lit up when you realized he was returning the gesture rather than just teasing you.

“Your hair’s so much shorter,” you giggled, squinting as you held his passport up to his face to compare, and he’d let you laugh at him all you wanted if it meant he’d get to see you grin like this.

“That bad?” He asked, arching up a brow like he wasn’t coaxing you into a compliment.

“It’s cute,” you reassured without thinking about it, stare lingering on the photo before you placed his passport back on his lap. “I like it.”

If you only realized just how much he liked you.

God, it was fucking pitiful.

Pining on a plane for a girl promised to the one other person he deeply cared for, talking in circles around everything he really wanted to say.

Around what you clearly didn’t want to discuss.

Not when you knew he’d change your mind.

You pretended to be absorbed in the in-flight movie, sharing a set of earbuds with him so you could watch together, ignoring the way your thighs kept rubbing against each other.

As if the touch was anything close to innocent when he kept glancing over to find you watching him more than the movie.

Was this supposed to be enough?

Was he meant to spend the rest of his life wondering what-if and overthinking about these tiny moments he managed to steal with you?

Suguru couldn’t fucking stand the idea of you being the one that got away.

Or that he wasn't the one for you at all.

Satoru wasn't helping either.

Leaning against you constantly, tapping your hand and talking to you like you were an old friend, discomfort pooling and threatening to drown Suguru watching you end up sitting in the shotgun seat of the rental car after the plane landed.

That ridiculous ring glittering every time the sun's rays hit it, your hand resting on the center console a little too close to Satoru's arm as he drove the oversized van all of them had piled into.

Everyone was talking over each other, excitedly chattering over plans to go swimming or sight-seeing, but Suguru was just staring like a moron at the back of your head.

What were you thinking?

Did he even want to know?

You seemed so resigned. Like you found a little freedom in just letting yourself getting taken by the tides.

Would you want a life preserver if he threw one to you?

He hadn't come any closer to figuring it out by the time they made it to Satoru's vacation house, right there on the beach, painted a bright shade of blue that just hurt his eyes.

But it was big enough for them all to get a room, and the second they were all out of the van, his friends were scurrying to go claim one - with you trailing awkwardly behind them.

Suguru slung his bag over his shoulder, about to jog to catch up to you, but Satoru beat him to it.

Asking what you wanted to eat tonight, a stupid, simple question that shouldn't mean anything.

It didn't mean anything.

So why did it feel so fucking shitty?

Suguru didn't pick out a room. Just dropped his bags inside a few seconds after the two of you walked through the entrance.

And when no one turned, no one looked, he just started towards the back, unlocking the back door to go out on the wooden porch that led out to the shore.

Was he being dramatic?

Yeah, probably.

Not that they would notice.

Sitting on the sand as the waves washed in, exhaling as he tried to desperately tune out the sounds filtering out of the house he slipped out of. The bass thumping behind him after Satoru must've set up the speakers, the sound of your soft giggle from before ringing in his ears as he rested his face in his hands.

You might be a damsel in distress, but this wasn’t a fairytale.

It wasn’t Suguru’s story.

He was just a side character trying to steal the princess and play the hero, holding out hope that you'd choose him when he'd never be able to offer you what you deserved.

But he still wanted to make sure you had that choice.

That you weren't going to spend the rest of your life wishing he'd done something to change the plot instead of sitting on the sidelines like he was now.

The past few weeks without you had been so empty, he wasn't sure how he made it so long like that before.

But now that he knew what he was missing, he couldn't bring himself to fill that spot in his heart back in.

He just had to learn how to live with being a loser in love with you.

"Hey."

His head snapped around, the lump in his throat bobbing as his eyes locked onto you.

You had changed into a bikini, one of those see-through coverups thrown over it as you trekked through the soft sand with a pair of flip flops in your hand.

"Shouldn't you be back inside?" He asked, forcing himself to drag his stare back up to your eyes.

"Shouldn't you?" You returned the question.

"I'm just thinking," he shrugged, swallowing the drool pooling in the back of his mouth as you walked over and took a seat in the sand next to him.

"About?" You asked, a hint of nervousness in your tone that gave you away.

"You already know I'm thinking about you."

But before you were forced to reply to that, his phone began to loudly buzz in his pocket.

Of course.

Because clearly, he couldn't catch even the smallest of breaks.

Begrudgingly, he pulled it out, frowning automatically at what he found on it. Whose name was currently displayed on the caller ID.

Sukuna.

God, it better be good.

“Shit,” he cursed, feeling an invisible vein in his forehead throb as his finger hovered over the screen.

“Is something wrong?” You innocently asked, looking like a goddamn angel in the setting sun, basking in the fading warmth as you cautiously watched him too.

“I’ve gotta take this,” Suguru grimaced.

And for a guy who was used to planning five steps ahead, he still hadn’t expected what he would hear on the other end.

“So, uh, I got arrested.”

a/n: if anyone wants to be added to the taglist or has previously requested and was missed, pls comment on this chap and let me know :3