mini hiatus

Only people full of shit, you thought. Nodding to yourself, she’s right. Naoya and his family are full of shit and everyone agrees.

Suguru and his friends had gone on their little Japan tour a few days ago. And you were left without any other work, he told you, “Rest day”. For the past week, he had you making flyers here and there for the tour, and you were glad to do it with the income that he promised you; no joke, he called you late at night for a request, even if he does sound apologetic, you still did it because you had no hard feelings for him. In fact, you were glad to even be doing this in the first place.

Also, he did promise to bring something back for you as an apology, extra income in a form of . . . probably food or a keychain. But, hey, a keychain from Sendai doesn’t sound too bad. Or a cheesecake from Hokkaido doesn’t sound too shabby at all.

“Ieiri, can I ask you something?” You pucker your lips slightly, the straw from your “half-full” cup, or as Satoru said “half-empty”. Ieiri stared at you, the streets are bustling and people passed by the sidewalk right by where you and Shoko sat outside the cafe, “It’s about Satoru and Suguru.”

“You’re gonna ask what happened between them,” she guessed. And she guessed right.

“Yeah.”

The corner of her lip tugged upwards slightly, “Don’t think it’s my place to tell that to you, you should ask Satoru about it. Or Suguru now since you’re working for him,” internally, you groaned at her very helpful inquiry, but still, the curiosity wedged in your heart.

Satoru had been extra busy lately, meet ups were rescheduled. Now that he had landed an act as a tree, he was needed during practices and . . . quote unquote, needed for prop making because he was apparently the strongest amongst his peers. It was a stroke to his ego, and Satoru wouldn’t stop telling you about how he helped carry things around the school during this time of the day. And it was bound to happen again.

Though, you don’t mind it at all — in fact, this was much better than the constant flex of social statuses, money, and fame.

“Did they fallout?” You asked, hoping for more enlightment from Shoko who is blissfully smoking her second cigarette of the day, “I just need something. Anything.”

“They fell out, reason? You’d have to ask the both of them,” she shrugs.

Today was one of the days Shoko could have a day off, and she had decided to call you up early in the morning for a little coffee and breakfast. Well, it’s noon now and the both of you were still together, not that you were complaining about it. Times with her are rare, and you’d salvage this moment with her. Her eyes were blankly staring at the people passing by, making sure that every puff of her smoke is directed away from people passing, “I didn’t know they fell out until Suguru came up to talk to me that he was going to move to start a band, actually. It was pretty upsetting, and for a while, I kinda hated them.”

Your eyes softened at her words, “Why?”

“I was there too, wasn’t I?” Her voice died to a soft whisper of solemn, she pressed the burning edge of her cig into the ashtray, pressing on it lightly to kill the fire, “then again, things happen. And it’s really not my place to say anything on their behalves because I’m completely clueless of what actually happened.”

Your thumbs fiddled with each other, Shoko clapped her hands together, “But, I’m completely chill about it now. That was a long time ago, and we’re all good . . . I’m good with the both of them. But them with each other?” She asks herself before shrugging nonchalantly, “Wanna grab dinner together later?”

“You seem to be getting close to Satoru,” Shoko replied, a tinge of slyness in her voice, “I take it everything’s going well then.”

“What? The whole fake dating stuff?” You were nonchalant in answering her, failing to notice the deadpan on her face, “it’s fine. I mean, we’re starting to get to know each other, we went out to see a movie, and stuff. Naoya’s still trying to fuck me up, I swear, he’s everywhere, Ieiri.”

Shoko sighs, “Yeah, that’s what he do. He thinks you can’t get better than him,” there are so many men better than him in every aspect, you rolled your eyes in annoyance, “he won’t stop at nothing to make sure you come back. Which is why Satoru is the perfect choice for this. He’s a total heartstopper.”

You nodded in agreement, “Yeah, I agree.”

“Out of curiosity,” Shoko answers again, sipping on her Americano, “what do you really think of him?”

You got lost in thought. Truthfully, you haven’t known Satoru Gojo for a long time at all, and if you were to be honest; you (shamefully) confess that you barely know him at all. Maybe the surface stuff about him, but if we were talking about what we think of a certain someone. You part your lips, “What do I think of him?” Shoko hums softly, waiting for an answer.

“Well, one,” your thoughts went back to the moments where Satoru drove you home, walked you through the alley, and made sure to wait until you get inside before leaving. Not to mention, the way he pays and teaches you instead of berating you like how Naoya would, “he’s very nice. He walks me home — actually, he drives me there . . . and walks me through the alleyway to my apartment, waits for me to get inside before he leaves. And he tecahes me stuff I don’t understand, and he says nice things to me. Unlike that dickhead, Naoya.”

“What else?”

You groaned, “I’ve known him for what? Going two months maybe, and I don’t know how he really is,” Shoko raised her arms up in mock surrender, finally making sense of it all, “ask me again in a year.”

Shoko grimaced, “I could bet you right now that in a year, you and Satoru are going to be in a loving relationshi—”

You cut her off immediately, “No, I’m saying that I don’t think I’ll be dating anyone soon and that includes Satoru. Despite him being nice,” and why are you talking like he likes you anyways? You shook your head, “and he probably doesn’t see me that way too. We need to stop twisting a completely platonic relationship into something romantic. Yeah?”

“Touche.”

Another thought striked you, “Also,” Shoko already swiveled her face away, “what is with that reaction?”

Shoko blew out a loud and dramatic sigh, “I just know that you’re gonna ask me something about Satoru’s life.”

True, “It’s just pure curiosity. How did he and his ex . . . You know, get together and broke up?” Shoko raises a brow in amusement, “Just curious.”

Shoko’s eyes glinted in a cheshire way, “Glad you asked, I actually just got the full information for that not too long ago. I’m taking full responsibility for what he’s going to say when you tell him that you know about it,” she straightened herself up, “they started dating two years ago. I actually know the girl, which is shocking to me when he told me about it because Suguru and I do not like her at all.”

“Apparently, since college years they had been talking behind our backs. Getting close and all. He confessed that after we graduated, he and his ex-girlfriend apparently started going out a few months after — and mind you, he kept it all a secret until . . .” She points at you and herself, “until all three of us met up so I could match the both of you up. I just knew, and pushed him to tell me about it; also, he got cheated on.”

“Why do you hate the girl?” You questioned.

Shoko hummed, “I wouldn’t say hate. My mistake, I strongly dislike her because we were partnered up a couple of times for a group project and she couldn’t contribute to anything. And by anything, I mean anything. Not even printing costs, transportations, I had to work on everything myself — I did rat her out to my professor and she didn’t pass the class. It’s a mutual thing.”

“Why did she chea—”

Shoko stares deep into your eyes, “All I know is that she never really thought that he was worthy of anything. She just thought he was easy,” you look down at the coffee — the dark brown liquid turning a bit lighter from the melted ice, “we might not see each other much. But, the one thing I can say about Satoru is that when he loves, he loves. And you don’t find that often. So, I guess finding out about this the hard way was very saddening for him.”

You bobbed your head, understanding the situation. “And you know what’s funny?”

Shoko toyed with her straw, “She cheated on him with another mutual good friend of ours,” you bit your lip.

“That sucks.”

“Totally. For someone who just got cheated on, he seems pretty okay — which is also one of his habit, you should take notes. He’s a lonely kid, doesn’t live with his parents anymore. I don’t even think he lives with them back when he was a kid at all. Hard for him to make friends, and he doesn’t talk much if you don’t talk first. So, I guess he felt the comfort with you. That’s good. He loves going outside if he has someone to go with, besides that? He locks himself in and plays games.”

The information opened a new vision and you nod your head, “Okay. Okay. Thank you . . .”

“Thanks for driving me.”

Shoko pokes her head out, “Hey, the alleyway’s pretty dark. Sure you can walk alone? I don’t mind risking a shif—”

“No, your shift is to save lives, gosh. I’ll be okay,” you waved your hand slowly, ushering her away, “it’s fine. Thanks for driving me home, Ieiri. Safe trips home,” Shoko smiles at you, rolling her windows up. You hear her honk three times before taking off into the streets.

The messages end right then and there, and you look around; night breeze caressing your skin gently — walking towards the wall right by the mouth of the alley, you plant your back to it. Shifting left and right, bored. Hands shoved right inside the pockets of your pants to warm them from the crispy air, shoulders rolling in a shiver. You had no idea why you were waiting for him too, maybe a part of you wanted him to walk you inside after all.

No longer than 10 minutes later, his familiar Sedan parked right by the sidewalk in front of you. A small smile tinged on your face at the sight of white mop of hair, instinctively you walked closer to him. The streaks of dark green paint and red ones on his cheek were apparent, and a shy smile displayed on his face.

“Sorry, did you wait long?” He brushed his hands against his white shirt —no, not white anymore. Barely even white actually, it had paint all over it now, and you were sure it was a result of his tree and prop making— Satoru looks down at you, “It’s chilly. You didn’t bring a jacket?”

Your head shook lightly, “No. I didn’t think it was gonna be this cold,” truthfully, it wasn’t actually that cold. You just couldn’t help but to agree at his statement, in fact the words came out before you could process it, “you came all the way here just to walk me inside here,” your hand gestured towards the mouth of the entrance.

Satoru took off his glasses, shouldering the sweat on his nosebridge, “Yeah. If you haven’t noticed, it’s creepy in there. Instead of you getting scared alone, we should be scared together,” he was scared all this time? Now the guilt pooled on the bottom of your stomach, swirling at his words.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

His fingers slid the glasses back into place, and the alluring cerulean glinted happily, “I actually wanted to, and I’m more than happy to do it. It’s my decision, no?” Smart, you bobbed your head in agreement, not being able to deny that, “Let’s get you home then.”

He walks first, guiding you into the alleyway. Satoru was tall enough to hide your view in front, all you could see is the outline of his back, and it made you feel safe. Satoru pops out of the other side with a smile, the streaks of paint crinkling under the strain of his skin, “How was your day?”

“Good,” you answered him slowly, “yours?”

Is he about to flex about his strength again? Satoru parts his lips, “Better now. It was tiring, but at least we got to meet. Ice cream tomorrow then? We can agree on that, right?” You grinned at him.

“Yes. Ice cream.”

“I’ll pick you up then,” he states, not asked.

“Is that absolute?”

Satoru nods his head, “Mhm.”

“Alright, pick me up then.”

Only people full of shit, you thought. Nodding to yourself, she’s right. Naoya and his family are full of shit and everyone agrees.

Suguru and his friends had gone on their little Japan tour a few days ago. And you were left without any other work, he told you, “Rest day”. For the past week, he had you making flyers here and there for the tour, and you were glad to do it with the income that he promised you; no joke, he called you late at night for a request, even if he does sound apologetic, you still did it because you had no hard feelings for him. In fact, you were glad to even be doing this in the first place.

Also, he did promise to bring something back for you as an apology, extra income in a form of . . . probably food or a keychain. But, hey, a keychain from Sendai doesn’t sound too bad. Or a cheesecake from Hokkaido doesn’t sound too shabby at all.

“Ieiri, can I ask you something?” You pucker your lips slightly, the straw from your “half-full” cup, or as Satoru said “half-empty”. Ieiri stared at you, the streets are bustling and people passed by the sidewalk right by where you and Shoko sat outside the cafe, “It’s about Satoru and Suguru.”

“You’re gonna ask what happened between them,” she guessed. And she guessed right.

“Yeah.”

The corner of her lip tugged upwards slightly, “Don’t think it’s my place to tell that to you, you should ask Satoru about it. Or Suguru now since you’re working for him,” internally, you groaned at her very helpful inquiry, but still, the curiosity wedged in your heart.

Satoru had been extra busy lately, meet ups were rescheduled. Now that he had landed an act as a tree, he was needed during practices and . . . quote unquote, needed for prop making because he was apparently the strongest amongst his peers. It was a stroke to his ego, and Satoru wouldn’t stop telling you about how he helped carry things around the school during this time of the day. And it was bound to happen again.

Though, you don’t mind it at all — in fact, this was much better than the constant flex of social statuses, money, and fame.

“Did they fallout?” You asked, hoping for more enlightment from Shoko who is blissfully smoking her second cigarette of the day, “I just need something. Anything.”

“They fell out, reason? You’d have to ask the both of them,” she shrugs.

Today was one of the days Shoko could have a day off, and she had decided to call you up early in the morning for a little coffee and breakfast. Well, it’s noon now and the both of you were still together, not that you were complaining about it. Times with her are rare, and you’d salvage this moment with her. Her eyes were blankly staring at the people passing by, making sure that every puff of her smoke is directed away from people passing, “I didn’t know they fell out until Suguru came up to talk to me that he was going to move to start a band, actually. It was pretty upsetting, and for a while, I kinda hated them.”

Your eyes softened at her words, “Why?”

“I was there too, wasn’t I?” Her voice died to a soft whisper of solemn, she pressed the burning edge of her cig into the ashtray, pressing on it lightly to kill the fire, “then again, things happen. And it’s really not my place to say anything on their behalves because I’m completely clueless of what actually happened.”

Your thumbs fiddled with each other, Shoko clapped her hands together, “But, I’m completely chill about it now. That was a long time ago, and we’re all good . . . I’m good with the both of them. But them with each other?” She asks herself before shrugging nonchalantly, “Wanna grab dinner together later?”

“You seem to be getting close to Satoru,” Shoko replied, a tinge of slyness in her voice, “I take it everything’s going well then.”

“What? The whole fake dating stuff?” You were nonchalant in answering her, failing to notice the deadpan on her face, “it’s fine. I mean, we’re starting to get to know each other, we went out to see a movie, and stuff. Naoya’s still trying to fuck me up, I swear, he’s everywhere, Ieiri.”

Shoko sighs, “Yeah, that’s what he do. He thinks you can’t get better than him,” there are so many men better than him in every aspect, you rolled your eyes in annoyance, “he won’t stop at nothing to make sure you come back. Which is why Satoru is the perfect choice for this. He’s a total heartstopper.”

You nodded in agreement, “Yeah, I agree.”

“Out of curiosity,” Shoko answers again, sipping on her Americano, “what do you really think of him?”

You got lost in thought. Truthfully, you haven’t known Satoru Gojo for a long time at all, and if you were to be honest; you (shamefully) confess that you barely know him at all. Maybe the surface stuff about him, but if we were talking about what we think of a certain someone. You part your lips, “What do I think of him?” Shoko hums softly, waiting for an answer.

“Well, one,” your thoughts went back to the moments where Satoru drove you home, walked you through the alley, and made sure to wait until you get inside before leaving. Not to mention, the way he pays and teaches you instead of berating you like how Naoya would, “he’s very nice. He walks me home — actually, he drives me there . . . and walks me through the alleyway to my apartment, waits for me to get inside before he leaves. And he tecahes me stuff I don’t understand, and he says nice things to me. Unlike that dickhead, Naoya.”

“What else?”

You groaned, “I’ve known him for what? Going two months maybe, and I don’t know how he really is,” Shoko raised her arms up in mock surrender, finally making sense of it all, “ask me again in a year.”

Shoko grimaced, “I could bet you right now that in a year, you and Satoru are going to be in a loving relationshi—”

You cut her off immediately, “No, I’m saying that I don’t think I’ll be dating anyone soon and that includes Satoru. Despite him being nice,” and why are you talking like he likes you anyways? You shook your head, “and he probably doesn’t see me that way too. We need to stop twisting a completely platonic relationship into something romantic. Yeah?”

“Touche.”

Another thought striked you, “Also,” Shoko already swiveled her face away, “what is with that reaction?”

Shoko blew out a loud and dramatic sigh, “I just know that you’re gonna ask me something about Satoru’s life.”

True, “It’s just pure curiosity. How did he and his ex . . . You know, get together and broke up?” Shoko raises a brow in amusement, “Just curious.”

Shoko’s eyes glinted in a cheshire way, “Glad you asked, I actually just got the full information for that not too long ago. I’m taking full responsibility for what he’s going to say when you tell him that you know about it,” she straightened herself up, “they started dating two years ago. I actually know the girl, which is shocking to me when he told me about it because Suguru and I do not like her at all.”

“Apparently, since college years they had been talking behind our backs. Getting close and all. He confessed that after we graduated, he and his ex-girlfriend apparently started going out a few months after — and mind you, he kept it all a secret until . . .” She points at you and herself, “until all three of us met up so I could match the both of you up. I just knew, and pushed him to tell me about it; also, he got cheated on.”

“Why do you hate the girl?” You questioned.

Shoko hummed, “I wouldn’t say hate. My mistake, I strongly dislike her because we were partnered up a couple of times for a group project and she couldn’t contribute to anything. And by anything, I mean anything. Not even printing costs, transportations, I had to work on everything myself — I did rat her out to my professor and she didn’t pass the class. It’s a mutual thing.”

“Why did she chea—”

Shoko stares deep into your eyes, “All I know is that she never really thought that he was worthy of anything. She just thought he was easy,” you look down at the coffee — the dark brown liquid turning a bit lighter from the melted ice, “we might not see each other much. But, the one thing I can say about Satoru is that when he loves, he loves. And you don’t find that often. So, I guess finding out about this the hard way was very saddening for him.”

You bobbed your head, understanding the situation. “And you know what’s funny?”

Shoko toyed with her straw, “She cheated on him with another mutual good friend of ours,” you bit your lip.

“That sucks.”

“Totally. For someone who just got cheated on, he seems pretty okay — which is also one of his habit, you should take notes. He’s a lonely kid, doesn’t live with his parents anymore. I don’t even think he lives with them back when he was a kid at all. Hard for him to make friends, and he doesn’t talk much if you don’t talk first. So, I guess he felt the comfort with you. That’s good. He loves going outside if he has someone to go with, besides that? He locks himself in and plays games.”

The information opened a new vision and you nod your head, “Okay. Okay. Thank you . . .”

“Thanks for driving me.”

Shoko pokes her head out, “Hey, the alleyway’s pretty dark. Sure you can walk alone? I don’t mind risking a shif—”

“No, your shift is to save lives, gosh. I’ll be okay,” you waved your hand slowly, ushering her away, “it’s fine. Thanks for driving me home, Ieiri. Safe trips home,” Shoko smiles at you, rolling her windows up. You hear her honk three times before taking off into the streets.

The messages end right then and there, and you look around; night breeze caressing your skin gently — walking towards the wall right by the mouth of the alley, you plant your back to it. Shifting left and right, bored. Hands shoved right inside the pockets of your pants to warm them from the crispy air, shoulders rolling in a shiver. You had no idea why you were waiting for him too, maybe a part of you wanted him to walk you inside after all.

No longer than 10 minutes later, his familiar Sedan parked right by the sidewalk in front of you. A small smile tinged on your face at the sight of white mop of hair, instinctively you walked closer to him. The streaks of dark green paint and red ones on his cheek were apparent, and a shy smile displayed on his face.

“Sorry, did you wait long?” He brushed his hands against his white shirt —no, not white anymore. Barely even white actually, it had paint all over it now, and you were sure it was a result of his tree and prop making— Satoru looks down at you, “It’s chilly. You didn’t bring a jacket?”

Your head shook lightly, “No. I didn’t think it was gonna be this cold,” truthfully, it wasn’t actually that cold. You just couldn’t help but to agree at his statement, in fact the words came out before you could process it, “you came all the way here just to walk me inside here,” your hand gestured towards the mouth of the entrance.

Satoru took off his glasses, shouldering the sweat on his nosebridge, “Yeah. If you haven’t noticed, it’s creepy in there. Instead of you getting scared alone, we should be scared together,” he was scared all this time? Now the guilt pooled on the bottom of your stomach, swirling at his words.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

His fingers slid the glasses back into place, and the alluring cerulean glinted happily, “I actually wanted to, and I’m more than happy to do it. It’s my decision, no?” Smart, you bobbed your head in agreement, not being able to deny that, “Let’s get you home then.”

He walks first, guiding you into the alleyway. Satoru was tall enough to hide your view in front, all you could see is the outline of his back, and it made you feel safe. Satoru pops out of the other side with a smile, the streaks of paint crinkling under the strain of his skin, “How was your day?”

“Good,” you answered him slowly, “yours?”

Is he about to flex about his strength again? Satoru parts his lips, “Better now. It was tiring, but at least we got to meet. Ice cream tomorrow then? We can agree on that, right?” You grinned at him.

“Yes. Ice cream.”

“I’ll pick you up then,” he states, not asked.

“Is that absolute?”

Satoru nods his head, “Mhm.”

“Alright, pick me up then.”

Only people full of shit, you thought. Nodding to yourself, she’s right. Naoya and his family are full of shit and everyone agrees.

Suguru and his friends had gone on their little Japan tour a few days ago. And you were left without any other work, he told you, “Rest day”. For the past week, he had you making flyers here and there for the tour, and you were glad to do it with the income that he promised you; no joke, he called you late at night for a request, even if he does sound apologetic, you still did it because you had no hard feelings for him. In fact, you were glad to even be doing this in the first place.

Also, he did promise to bring something back for you as an apology, extra income in a form of . . . probably food or a keychain. But, hey, a keychain from Sendai doesn’t sound too bad. Or a cheesecake from Hokkaido doesn’t sound too shabby at all.

“Ieiri, can I ask you something?” You pucker your lips slightly, the straw from your “half-full” cup, or as Satoru said “half-empty”. Ieiri stared at you, the streets are bustling and people passed by the sidewalk right by where you and Shoko sat outside the cafe, “It’s about Satoru and Suguru.”

“You’re gonna ask what happened between them,” she guessed. And she guessed right.

“Yeah.”

The corner of her lip tugged upwards slightly, “Don’t think it’s my place to tell that to you, you should ask Satoru about it. Or Suguru now since you’re working for him,” internally, you groaned at her very helpful inquiry, but still, the curiosity wedged in your heart.

Satoru had been extra busy lately, meet ups were rescheduled. Now that he had landed an act as a tree, he was needed during practices and . . . quote unquote, needed for prop making because he was apparently the strongest amongst his peers. It was a stroke to his ego, and Satoru wouldn’t stop telling you about how he helped carry things around the school during this time of the day. And it was bound to happen again.

Though, you don’t mind it at all — in fact, this was much better than the constant flex of social statuses, money, and fame.

“Did they fallout?” You asked, hoping for more enlightment from Shoko who is blissfully smoking her second cigarette of the day, “I just need something. Anything.”

“They fell out, reason? You’d have to ask the both of them,” she shrugs.

Today was one of the days Shoko could have a day off, and she had decided to call you up early in the morning for a little coffee and breakfast. Well, it’s noon now and the both of you were still together, not that you were complaining about it. Times with her are rare, and you’d salvage this moment with her. Her eyes were blankly staring at the people passing by, making sure that every puff of her smoke is directed away from people passing, “I didn’t know they fell out until Suguru came up to talk to me that he was going to move to start a band, actually. It was pretty upsetting, and for a while, I kinda hated them.”

Your eyes softened at her words, “Why?”

“I was there too, wasn’t I?” Her voice died to a soft whisper of solemn, she pressed the burning edge of her cig into the ashtray, pressing on it lightly to kill the fire, “then again, things happen. And it’s really not my place to say anything on their behalves because I’m completely clueless of what actually happened.”

Your thumbs fiddled with each other, Shoko clapped her hands together, “But, I’m completely chill about it now. That was a long time ago, and we’re all good . . . I’m good with the both of them. But them with each other?” She asks herself before shrugging nonchalantly, “Wanna grab dinner together later?”

“You seem to be getting close to Satoru,” Shoko replied, a tinge of slyness in her voice, “I take it everything’s going well then.”

“What? The whole fake dating stuff?” You were nonchalant in answering her, failing to notice the deadpan on her face, “it’s fine. I mean, we’re starting to get to know each other, we went out to see a movie, and stuff. Naoya’s still trying to fuck me up, I swear, he’s everywhere, Ieiri.”

Shoko sighs, “Yeah, that’s what he do. He thinks you can’t get better than him,” there are so many men better than him in every aspect, you rolled your eyes in annoyance, “he won’t stop at nothing to make sure you come back. Which is why Satoru is the perfect choice for this. He’s a total heartstopper.”

You nodded in agreement, “Yeah, I agree.”

“Out of curiosity,” Shoko answers again, sipping on her Americano, “what do you really think of him?”

You got lost in thought. Truthfully, you haven’t known Satoru Gojo for a long time at all, and if you were to be honest; you (shamefully) confess that you barely know him at all. Maybe the surface stuff about him, but if we were talking about what we think of a certain someone. You part your lips, “What do I think of him?” Shoko hums softly, waiting for an answer.

“Well, one,” your thoughts went back to the moments where Satoru drove you home, walked you through the alley, and made sure to wait until you get inside before leaving. Not to mention, the way he pays and teaches you instead of berating you like how Naoya would, “he’s very nice. He walks me home — actually, he drives me there . . . and walks me through the alleyway to my apartment, waits for me to get inside before he leaves. And he tecahes me stuff I don’t understand, and he says nice things to me. Unlike that dickhead, Naoya.”

“What else?”

You groaned, “I’ve known him for what? Going two months maybe, and I don’t know how he really is,” Shoko raised her arms up in mock surrender, finally making sense of it all, “ask me again in a year.”

Shoko grimaced, “I could bet you right now that in a year, you and Satoru are going to be in a loving relationshi—”

You cut her off immediately, “No, I’m saying that I don’t think I’ll be dating anyone soon and that includes Satoru. Despite him being nice,” and why are you talking like he likes you anyways? You shook your head, “and he probably doesn’t see me that way too. We need to stop twisting a completely platonic relationship into something romantic. Yeah?”

“Touche.”

Another thought striked you, “Also,” Shoko already swiveled her face away, “what is with that reaction?”

Shoko blew out a loud and dramatic sigh, “I just know that you’re gonna ask me something about Satoru’s life.”

True, “It’s just pure curiosity. How did he and his ex . . . You know, get together and broke up?” Shoko raises a brow in amusement, “Just curious.”

Shoko’s eyes glinted in a cheshire way, “Glad you asked, I actually just got the full information for that not too long ago. I’m taking full responsibility for what he’s going to say when you tell him that you know about it,” she straightened herself up, “they started dating two years ago. I actually know the girl, which is shocking to me when he told me about it because Suguru and I do not like her at all.”

“Apparently, since college years they had been talking behind our backs. Getting close and all. He confessed that after we graduated, he and his ex-girlfriend apparently started going out a few months after — and mind you, he kept it all a secret until . . .” She points at you and herself, “until all three of us met up so I could match the both of you up. I just knew, and pushed him to tell me about it; also, he got cheated on.”

“Why do you hate the girl?” You questioned.

Shoko hummed, “I wouldn’t say hate. My mistake, I strongly dislike her because we were partnered up a couple of times for a group project and she couldn’t contribute to anything. And by anything, I mean anything. Not even printing costs, transportations, I had to work on everything myself — I did rat her out to my professor and she didn’t pass the class. It’s a mutual thing.”

“Why did she chea—”

Shoko stares deep into your eyes, “All I know is that she never really thought that he was worthy of anything. She just thought he was easy,” you look down at the coffee — the dark brown liquid turning a bit lighter from the melted ice, “we might not see each other much. But, the one thing I can say about Satoru is that when he loves, he loves. And you don’t find that often. So, I guess finding out about this the hard way was very saddening for him.”

You bobbed your head, understanding the situation. “And you know what’s funny?”

Shoko toyed with her straw, “She cheated on him with another mutual good friend of ours,” you bit your lip.

“That sucks.”

“Totally. For someone who just got cheated on, he seems pretty okay — which is also one of his habit, you should take notes. He’s a lonely kid, doesn’t live with his parents anymore. I don’t even think he lives with them back when he was a kid at all. Hard for him to make friends, and he doesn’t talk much if you don’t talk first. So, I guess he felt the comfort with you. That’s good. He loves going outside if he has someone to go with, besides that? He locks himself in and plays games.”

The information opened a new vision and you nod your head, “Okay. Okay. Thank you . . .”

“Thanks for driving me.”

Shoko pokes her head out, “Hey, the alleyway’s pretty dark. Sure you can walk alone? I don’t mind risking a shif—”

“No, your shift is to save lives, gosh. I’ll be okay,” you waved your hand slowly, ushering her away, “it’s fine. Thanks for driving me home, Ieiri. Safe trips home,” Shoko smiles at you, rolling her windows up. You hear her honk three times before taking off into the streets.

The messages end right then and there, and you look around; night breeze caressing your skin gently — walking towards the wall right by the mouth of the alley, you plant your back to it. Shifting left and right, bored. Hands shoved right inside the pockets of your pants to warm them from the crispy air, shoulders rolling in a shiver. You had no idea why you were waiting for him too, maybe a part of you wanted him to walk you inside after all.

No longer than 10 minutes later, his familiar Sedan parked right by the sidewalk in front of you. A small smile tinged on your face at the sight of white mop of hair, instinctively you walked closer to him. The streaks of dark green paint and red ones on his cheek were apparent, and a shy smile displayed on his face.

“Sorry, did you wait long?” He brushed his hands against his white shirt —no, not white anymore. Barely even white actually, it had paint all over it now, and you were sure it was a result of his tree and prop making— Satoru looks down at you, “It’s chilly. You didn’t bring a jacket?”

Your head shook lightly, “No. I didn’t think it was gonna be this cold,” truthfully, it wasn’t actually that cold. You just couldn’t help but to agree at his statement, in fact the words came out before you could process it, “you came all the way here just to walk me inside here,” your hand gestured towards the mouth of the entrance.

Satoru took off his glasses, shouldering the sweat on his nosebridge, “Yeah. If you haven’t noticed, it’s creepy in there. Instead of you getting scared alone, we should be scared together,” he was scared all this time? Now the guilt pooled on the bottom of your stomach, swirling at his words.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

His fingers slid the glasses back into place, and the alluring cerulean glinted happily, “I actually wanted to, and I’m more than happy to do it. It’s my decision, no?” Smart, you bobbed your head in agreement, not being able to deny that, “Let’s get you home then.”

He walks first, guiding you into the alleyway. Satoru was tall enough to hide your view in front, all you could see is the outline of his back, and it made you feel safe. Satoru pops out of the other side with a smile, the streaks of paint crinkling under the strain of his skin, “How was your day?”

“Good,” you answered him slowly, “yours?”

Is he about to flex about his strength again? Satoru parts his lips, “Better now. It was tiring, but at least we got to meet. Ice cream tomorrow then? We can agree on that, right?” You grinned at him.

“Yes. Ice cream.”

“I’ll pick you up then,” he states, not asked.

“Is that absolute?”

Satoru nods his head, “Mhm.”

“Alright, pick me up then.”

You didn’t waste any time grabbing your sketchbook to make a rough sketch of his poster, this was important. They were actually going on a national tour —and people will see your design, which was an extra boost on your branding. This was going to be good on your portfolio, actually (crazy enough, you did build one for future purposes).

Roughly 2 hours later, you had a rough sketch sent to Suguru. And to be frankly honest, you don’t take him for someone who would reply quick; but his reply came in, and you were 100% sure this was Suguru considering he . . . Texts like he talks.

That night, you “in a joking manner” sent a message to Satoru. Lighting up the flame that had almost died from the lack of talking. He had replied later than Suguru, you could understand considering how busy he must be with grading papers and . . . Practicing to be a tree. The conversation lit back up when Satoru had offered you a ticket for a new horror movie next week. Perfect timing, you weren’t busy and you had so many things to talk about with him regarding your new job with Suguru.

Who knows, maybe they could meet back up. Hence, why you were out with a loose sweater and pants for a trip to the movie theater —the air conditioning was cold despite how hot the afternoon had been. And as much as you appreciated a little coolness, it was over the top . . . And you didn’t need to be walking down the aisle alone for a short trip to the restroom mid movie. One, it risks you getting jumpscared mid walk and resulting in a fall; if lucky, just a little jolt. Two (only if you fall), it would be embarrassing to come back after a fall and get cozy back in the seat. Imagine, what would Satoru say about it?

“I bought you popcorn, I didn’t know which one you liked so I had them mix the butter and sugar up . . . Oh, also! Lemon tea, and I had extra jelly in them. Trust me, they’re the best,” you know how movie theaters serve overpriced popcorn and drinks you can get outside for much much cheaper. Don’t get me wrong, in this economy? You can’t help but to feel bad because of it, “I want to treat you. As a token of our friendship —and for the fact that I might have came off as rude when we first met. I didn’t know how to react.”

“I didn’t think you were rude at all,” in fact, you felt like he could have been rude-r about it because you were sure you would be if you were him, “and thank you so much, Satoru. You didn’t have to do that, you know right?”

He had a shy smile on his face. Teeth gently nipping on his bottom lip, “I wanted to. You’ve been through a lot of bullcrap, especially with your ex-boyfriend. I hope this makes you feel a little bit better,” he hands you one of the drinks which you took with ease, thanking him one last time for it before he slowly walks towards the studio —now that you realized, he paid for the tickets and food. Does this consider as an official ‘first’ date for the plan? Well, even if it isn’t, you’d still conclude it as one when Naoya asks about it (he will come back, channel the inner zen, you could feel a little evil spirit coming sooner or later).

 “How much are the tickets?” You asked, sipping the drink.

“Free,” he replied back nonchalantly, stealing a glance, “my treat. I don’t want you asking about it anymore tonight or reminding me about it. Yeah?”

“I’d feel bad.”

He grunts, “I guess you could feel bad, I don’t mind,” he spoke in a lighthearted way that you can’t help but to nudge your elbow at his bicep, “just clarifying, I watched the trailer and it was a little scary.”

“I’m not scared of jumpscares.”

You were in fact scared of jumpscares. One, the thing your feared most: getting jumpscared mid walk down to the restroom happened. Thankfully, no falls, just a little yelp for the audience (not your fault, mind you, there were people screaming inside). Two, Satoru had taken a random swing from your elbow during one of the jumpscares and . . . Let’s just say that his skin was a bit on the sensitive side, so here he walks with a bright smile and a red mark on the side of his cheek like a trophy.

“Gosh, I am so sorry, Satoru . . . I didn’t expect the jumpscare to be like that,” he pursed his lips into a wide smile, the corner of his eyes crinkled at your panicked state, “please don’t do that, you’re actually scaring me with your smile. What are your intentions?”

Satoru laughs loudly. Brushing his hair back, “It’s fine, that was the first time I’ve received an elbow to the face in a movie theater. You’re good, and it doesn’t hurt. Don’t worry about it, you’ve apologized like three times,” you puckered your lips at the sound of his laughter and the way he just brushed it off, because the sound when your elbow connected with his face does sound serious, “it hurts before, but it doesn’t now. You didn’t do it on purpose either, so don’t worry about it, (Name).”

Your cheeks felt warm from the embarrassment and shame. This wasn’t supposed to happen right now, and the fact that Satoru looked like he had the time of his life made it even worse! You’d honestly feel better if he were to click his tongue in disdain because that’s how people shuould react, right? Not to laugh it off and tell you it’s fine, “I still feel bad. Can I please take you for dinner right now? My treat. You’ve done too much tonight,” he hummed softly, tutting his finger sheepishly, “come on, please? It’s the least I could do after hitting you.”

“Not on purpose,” he counters, “and plus, it’s refreshing.”

“Dinner is okay then?”

He looks up, nodding, “Dinner sounds great actually,” the sun was beginning to dip under the horizon as the familiar orange-ish hue colored the sky here and there, “what do you feel like eating right now? Maybe something soothing . . . Hotpot?”

You perked up at the suggestion, “Hotpot is perfect.”

The streets were packed to the brim —no, that was an overstatment. Sure, it is packed, cars honking, people on bikes swerving here and there passing through little gaps, and people brushing by other people to make it to their own destinations. Satoru and you resided in a small area by the side, your shoulders nearly pressing into the walls of shops; initially, you had been walking on the outer parts of the street, but Satoru had swerved right by you with the excuse of “liking it better on the outer part”, it could be a lie . . . Or not, only he knows.

The hotpot restaurant wasn’t packed, at least there were still tables free unlike the lines you saw from several shop outside. Chillers were filled to the brim with raw ingredients ranging from the freshest greens to fresh seafood. Both Satoru and you were given the usual golden colored pot for each your own kind of creation, you reached out for the tongs, gripping them with resilience. Already nitpicking the usual ingredients with known movements. Satoru put much more thoughts on his pot; but half of what you have in your pot is in his too.

Satoru sat across from you, grinning, “Do you get hotpot often?”

Your chin laid on your open palm as you shook your head, “I can count the amount of times I’ve ever eaten a hotpot with my fingers, and right now? Probably five times, six with this one,” hotpot could be pretty expensive when you let yourself go with all the ingredient grabbing — every 100 grams was unpredcitable. You were sure you garbbed at least less than 700 grams once, and you exceeded your expectations. Eating alone as well, couldn’t blame yourself, it was your first time eating that time.

Satoru’s head hung, “Me too. On special occassions maybe. The faculty loves to have a good hotpot every once in a while though, I just come by to eat and go,” his explanation is lighthearted and he looks around, “this is the first time I’ve been in this shop though. I might recommend it to them.”

“Do you guys drink too?”

He laughs nervously, taking off his glasses —the little marks etched into his skin from the nosepads of his glasses raged red— and laying them on the table right by the tissue box. His head shook from side to side, fingers raised up to thread along his hair, “I actually hate alcohol, I can do a couple gulps . . . But, that’s about it. I’m not a really strong drinker,” the tip of his ears turned slightly red from his confession, “I don’t like the taste of it.”

A hum escaped from your throat, “I could understand that, it could be pretty rancid.”

“Right? It’s just . . . Fizzy and bitter.”

“Mhm, though you should try soda and alcohol. It could be a pretty awesome combination,” you tell him, moving slightly backward as the waitress delivered the pot of your orders to your table — the (broth of your choice) soup making your mouth salivate at the sight, “personally, I think hotpot goes better after alcohol. It just kinda washes the alcohol away after.”

“Really? I think alcohol doesn’t go with anything,” a chuckle emits from your lips, you watch him scoop a spoonful of broth before sipping it slowly, eyes shutting from the heat of it.

“This is really good,” you could already picture the spicy trail that would form around his lips from the slightly spicy broth, and not to mention how hot the broth was currently which would definitely amplify the spiciness of it, “it’s a little spicy, but it’s good.”

Then the topic of Suguru struck you, and you cleared your throat, “So, I got a side job thing . . . Full-time, actually. But, I don’t work everyday and I work from home, guess who my boss is?” Satoru blew on a piece of thin sliced beef, “The clue is that his name starts with a letter S.”

“Suguru?” His eyes widened.

“Bingo, his band needed a graphic designer since the old one bailed and I just happened to walk pass the flyer. Weird coincidence, right?” Satoru took a sip out of his soda can, sitting back, “His band is going for a tour in Japan in a bit.”

“I haven’t been on speaking terms with him. To be really honest with you,” your smile dropped and you blinked —was this a bad time to bring Suguru up into this conversation? And it seems like your face explained everything as Satoru scrambled to reassure you, “it’s nothing bad. We had a little fight before he left to pursue his dreams, I still think of him as a close friend and I really missed him. How does he look? Healthy?” You don’t miss the tinge of excitement in his voice.

You explained to him, “Yeah, he and his bandmates seemed to be doing good. They have a studio on the second floor of a bookstore, and . . .” they looks like rich kids throwing away money for a graphic designer, you’d like to tell him but shake your head at the thought that might ruin your paycheck, “and yeah, they seem to be thriving.”

Satoru continued eating his hotpot, “I don’t like his bandmates. We fought because of them, I’m guessing . . . Pink hair, tattoos, permanent bitch face?” He must be talking about Sukuna, and he took your silence as a confirmation, “he used to get into a lot of fights. I was afraid that Suguru might be pulled into the wrong crowd. This and that happened, we haven’t talked since then, but if we do meet, I hope we could talk things out. Does he know that you know me?”

“No, I only mentioned Ieiri.”

“Good, good.”

“Sorry for bringing that up—”

Satoru cuts you off with a sheepish wave of his hand, “You didn’t know, and I don’t mind talking about it at all. It’s great that he’s doing well,” you weren’t a psychology master or were you a master of reading people’s mind — but you could definitely tell that the topic of Suguru was something that he was uncomfortable with. The gears in your brain reeled to think of another topic, far away from Suguru or his bandmates.

“Oh, I started opening my commissions again,” you blurt out in a moment of panic, hoping that Satoru wouldn’t mention anything about the sudden change of topics, “I haven’t gotten any customers besides regulars, but hey, it keeps food on the plate. And can I just tell you how relieved I am that my regulars are complete sweethearts? Because that last client made me mis-uh-rable.”

Satoru emits a giggle, “I could understand that,” beads of sweat began forming on the side of his head, “it’s good that you decided to take a break from opening your commissions. Forcing yourself could lead to burnout, and it’s the worst thing ever.”

“Have you ever feel burnt out?”

Satoru nods, “I took a break from gaming for a year because I was so intense on it, day and night, focused on being the best player, focus on stats. It wasn’t fun anymore, and I moved on to building games —I built houses for fun everyday for a year,” he shrugs his shoulders lightly, “I got back to my original game and just focused on the story instead, much more fun than focusing on the characters’ stats and power. It felt too greedy and I got angry when I lose.”

“That’s crazy.”

“Right?” He chuckled, clacking his chopsticks gently against the corner of his pot. He slurped the broth like he hadn’t drank any form of liquid for years, “I’m all done. This is great.”

Your pot was nowhere near close to done, just a few things have disappeared from the broth. Most of the meat, that’s one. Although, you’ve realized that you’ve scooped up more broth than ingredients from the pot. Satoru sat there, smiling, beads of sweat dropping from his forehead —he took a sheet of tissue, pressing it onto his forehead. The salty droplets seeping into the tissue, turning it an almost transluscent color.

You quickly finished your hotpot, and like you promised; you did pay for it, although he insisted that he should do it. You managed to convince him by saying that he left his phone on the table, and he actually went to check on it. Though, as return when the two of you walked back to the movie theater not too far away where you both walked from earlier, Satoru convinced you that he should drive you back home with the excuse of it being “too dangerous” for you to walk alone.

And like the other time, he courts you along the dark alleyway. His cologne merging with the pungent smell from cigarettes arond the two of you. And once you stood in front of the old door of your apartment complex, Satoru stood there waiting for you to enter before he leaves. You wonder why, “I’m okay now. Thanks for walking me here, Satoru. I had a lot of fun today.”

Satoru smiles, “Just wanna make sure you get in safely. You do know that annually, the police handles around three thousand and seven hundred cases of stalking, which includes illegal entry and home intrusions. I want to make sure you get in alone,” the thought of him waiting for you to go in made you feel like a jelly. The warmth on your face made your whole body fuse.

“ . . . Good night, Satoru. Thank you for today, have a safe trip home, okay?” Satoru waves his hand in return before his fingers shoo-ed you inside quickly.