Work Text:
Heads: move on.
Tails: stay delulu.
Flipping the coin has become his go-to method for decision-making, relinquishing control to fate. He won’t lie, it’s mostly about Satoru. It only takes a second for his destiny to be forged in the steel of the unknown. It only takes a second for his heart to grow cold and for him to imprison his feelings. That morning, like every other morning, Suguru flipped the coin, and it landed on heads with a satisfying clink. He’s already allowed fate to make the choice, and he’s going to stick with it. He’s going to move on, sealing away his feelings for his best friend like a secret locked in a box. After all, fate had the final say, didn’t it? It would be disrespectful to go against fate’s decision.
Closing his eyes briefly, Suguru takes a deep breath to steady himself before opening them again, ready to follow his best friend to the cashier. He won’t be delulu anymore.
They are currently waiting in line at the convenience store, holding a bunch of snacks. Thankfully, they have the AC on to escape the summer heat waves.
Suguru breaks the silence, his curiosity piqued. “Why do you always do that? Reading the ingredients list, I mean,” he asks, pointing with his chin at the konjac jelly in Satoru’s hands right now. Over the past few months, Satoru has developed a habit of doing that often, whether it’s at the convenience store or even when they’re eating out at restaurants. He never really questioned it; he thought it was just a strange fascination that Satoru developed after losing himself in TikTok for hours on end.
Satoru glances at him with a playful glint in his eyes. “Well, you never know when you might stumble upon a new favorite treat,” he says with a mischievous smile. “Besides, it’s fun to explore.”
But then, Satoru goes and says the most horrendous thing ever, causing his resolve to crumble into pieces. “I’m checking to see if there are any allergies you may have. So far, so good,” Satoru replies with a cheerful tone, confidently waving the jelly in his hands. The audacity—
Suguru wants to smother him. It’s absolutely unacceptable—how can he possibly move on when Satoru continues to do things like this?
He fights back the blush creeping up his cheeks and the grimace threatening to twist his face. The cashier’s timely call saves Suguru from the embarrassment, and he spins around to place their snacks on the counter.
He truly believed he could move on, but it seems he will stay delulu and continue daydreaming about Satoru. He really thought he had it under control—yet again, Satoru’s actions led him right back to where he started. It’s. It’s really unfair.
Before Satoru can react in time, Suguru manages to pay for their stuff. He doesn’t really know why he does it—shouldn’t he punish Satoru for destroying his resolve?
“Rude, I wanted to pay,” Satoru says, pushing down Suguru’s cap, causing it to block his line of sight.
“Stop being so slow, then.” Suguru flips his cap around, revealing a hint of annoyance in his eyes as he brushes his fringe away. Swiftly, he grabs the plastic bag given to him by the cashier. As he hops on his longboard, the sound of his wheels scraping against the ground echoes in the air. He looks back and urges, “Hurry, Shōko is waiting.”
Satoru walks and talks animatedly about an obscure horror indie video game he discovered last night, making Suguru wonder if fate is playing games with him again. Suguru, on his longboard, tries to keep up without going too fast. The memory of his severe allergic reaction and the frantic dash to the hospital resurfaces, and he can recall the sound of sirens blaring in the distance. He looks at Satoru, contemplating how he doesn’t need to do anything yet chooses to do so. He wasn’t even around Suguru when the incident happened—in fact, it occurred during a family gathering, and he himself wasn’t cautious with the peanuts. Even so, Satoru wasted no time in getting to the hospital to make sure he was okay—because that’s what best friends do. And he apparently has been reading those stupid ingredient lists with his stupid blue eyes ever since, all for Suguru’s sake.
They finally reach the track field, their bodies covered in sweat, and their ice creams long gone. Suguru distributes their impressive haul of snacks, saying hi to everyone with small waves and smiles, while Satoru engages in his trademark super complicated handshake with Yū. Despite trying not to find it cute, Suguru can’t help but feel his heart melt, so he quickly turns to Shōko to divert his attention.
“Why’d you call us here, anyway?” he asks, finding a spot on the ground, shielded by a tree. Satoru joins him on the ground, casually throwing his head back and leaning on his arms. His hair shines so brightly under the sun, and Suguru can’t help but be drawn to his every movement, like a moth to a flame.
“Seriously, why now and why here?” Chōsō’s voice cuts through Suguru’s reverie, fanning himself with his hands. He was clearly struggling the most out of everyone.
Shōko’s explanation comes with a slight smile, barely noticeable, but Suguru catches it. “It’s because we’re conducting a social experiment and finding a time slot for everyone was a real pain in the ass.”
“Yeah, but why here? Can’t we do it in a café or something?”
“Our dorms are off limits, remember?” Utahime intervenes, her arms crossed and her gaze fixed on the culprit, Satoru, who appears completely unfazed. “You can’t have more than three people gathering up. And cafés are too noisy, we want a peaceful setting.”
Satoru asks, his tone laced with sarcasm, “A track field? That’s all you managed to find?” The disdain in his voice is unmistakable.
Utahime’s eyes meet Shōko’s as she struggles to find an explanation, stuttering, “Um... well…”
But then Shōko comes to her rescue and quickly fires back, “It’s the sun! Oh yeah, the sun is totally, definitely, part of the experiment!” Shōko places her arm around Utahime’s shoulders and says, “We need you to be in an uncomfortable position for this experiment, so being under the sun should do the trick. Don’t worry, we got sunscreens.”
“Just to clarify... you’re asking us to be uncomfortable, but in a peaceful setting?” Suguru’s temptation gets the better of him as he playfully smacks Satoru’s head, prompting an affronted ‘awww’ to escape from his best friend.
“Seriously, Gojō, shut up. If you’re backing out, just say it,” Shōko replies.
Satoru raises both his hands in surrender and explains, “I’m just pointing out flaws in your plan, that’s all.” Whenever he starts with his silly antics, Suguru can’t help but give an eye roll.
“Anyway,” Shōko continues, brushing off Satoru’s interruption like a pesky fly. Her glance briefly meets Suguru’s, as if seeking an ally in this madness. “Here’s the plan: we’re gonna put you in pairs, sit you across from each other, and have you gaze into each other’s eyes for a solid four minutes. No talking, no touching, just eye contact.”
Her words hang in the air, causing a brief, uneasy stillness.
Suguru can’t help but feel a flutter of anticipation mingled with nervousness as he contemplates the idea, his eyes unconsciously drawn to Satoru. He is fully aware of the experiment’s absurdity, and the intense heat only adds to his discomfort. However, the idea of looking at Satoru, his Satoru, consumes his thoughts, and at that moment, the world around him seems to melt away.
And another thought crosses his mind as well: what if he ends up being paired with someone else? Granted, he’s friends with everyone here, but the prospect of meeting someone’s gaze, anyone really, is nerve-wracking. But would he be comfortable doing it with Satoru?
Nanami’s voice breaks the silence, his tone filled with disbelief. “It’s ridiculous.” Suguru totally agrees.
“Yeah, well, if anyone has any objection, please step aside.”
As Suguru looks at Nanami and Yuki, there is a silent understanding between them, but they all stay within the group. It turns out that nobody wanted to leave after all.
Shōko and Utahime clap their hands, and the sound echoes through the empty field as they begin to assign people into pairs. “So, we have Nanami and Haibara, Chōsō and Yuki, Gojō and Getō. Take a seat, but remember to face each other. Once everyone is ready, we can start the timer for four minutes.”
Giving Satoru a quick glance, Suguru mouths “you good,” to which Satoru responds with a reassuring nod and asks, “how about you?” Nervously, he nods back, his hands trembling slightly.
As everything happens fast, people quickly shuffle around to find their places, and Suguru finds himself sitting directly in front of his best friend. As Shōko and Utahime double-check their positions, Suguru suddenly feels a light touch on his head as Shōko takes off his cap, whispering, “It’s just for a few minutes.” Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Satoru’s sunglasses being taken off, too. His best friend squints his eyes, trying to shield them from the blinding rays of the sun.
Suguru gets up from his spot under the tree and says to Satoru, “Let’s switch,” as he motions for his best friend to take his place. Despite his confusion, Satoru obliges and they resume their seated positions, only this time Satoru’s vision seems at ease. Suguru tries to not look at him but feels stupid because the whole experiment is to look at Satoru.
They’re both sitting cross-legged and awkwardly looking at each other. This is going to feel like a never-ending four minutes.
“Okay, ready?” After receiving multiple thumbs up and a few enthusiastic ‘yeahs,’ the girls eagerly set the timer.
It only takes a second for their gazes to meet, but in that moment, it feels like time ceases to exist. The awkwardness hangs heavy in the air as Suguru considers whether to back out and make a run for his dorm. But the deeper he gazes into Satoru’s eyes, the stronger his desire becomes to remain seated. Even though it seems contradictory, his deep-rooted feelings for Satoru are fighting to break free. Maybe this is his one shot to drink in all the nuances of his best friend, to etch them permanently into his mind.
After all, he knows deep down that his unrequited feelings for him would never be returned. But he could pretend—for four minutes. It could be his only chance to experience the feeling of being truly seen and loved by Gojō Satoru, and to be at the center of his universe, as Satoru is his.
People often say that Satoru is the incarnation of winter, but it isn’t true; he is more like the white sand from Shirarahama Beach on a bright summer afternoon. He embodies the essence of summer, radiating warmth and joy, like the white sand meeting the crystal-clear blue waters. When he walks into a room, it feels like a sunny summer day, with the scent of sunscreen and the sound of waves crashing in the background. He holds a special place in the Sun’s heart, so much so that not even the plants could come between them. Like the white ice cream scoops in a cone, he brings a taste of summer with his presence, whether it’s vanilla or coconut. He moves through life with the same grace and freedom as seagulls gliding above the beaches. Against a backdrop of a vivid azure sky, he stands out like the fluffy white clouds, captivating and beautiful.
It doesn’t matter that Suguru’s name means summer; all he wants is to give all of his summers to the boy with bright blue eyes, who holds a permanent place in his heart.
And oh, the sheer beauty in his blue eyes is something Suguru could never grow tired of admiring. With long, white lashes framing them, Satoru’s eyes held a kaleidoscopic allure, trapping all who looked into them, never releasing their hold. Suguru would never dare to imagine being released from their grip; he would prefer to face death while gazing into those eyes than to be set free. He has long lost the battle in his heart, leaving him with the bittersweet understanding that his love for Satoru is unmatched.
The sight of the deep blue and turquoise swirling together brings back memories of when they first met; it’s like a painting coming to life. In the middle of a sunny afternoon in elementary school, Satoru walked over to him, and Suguru was so taken aback by the blue of his eyes that he involuntarily coughed up the orange juice he had been drinking.
“Put those built-in LED headlights away!” he exclaimed, still coughing.
Satoru scoffed. “What are you talking about? Look into my eyes and tell me they’re not beautiful. Anyway, Weird Bangs, wanna play Pokemon cards?”
As Satoru’s best friend and confidant, Suguru already holds a significant place in his life. His conscience tugs at him, knowing that wanting more is a greedy desire, yet he can’t help but indulge in the fleeting fantasy that maybe, just maybe—
Maybe Satoru might like him back.
Time slips away, and he desperately clings to those fleeting minutes. He doesn’t want to confront the harsh reality that he will never be more than a best friend. He wants to feel the soft texture of those white strands as he threads his fingers through them. He wants to feel the gentle glide of his fingertips on his rosy cheeks.
His clammy fingers rest uneasily on his thighs, longing to reach out and pull him close. With each deep breath he takes, his gaze remains locked on Satoru’s eyes, the rhythm of his heartbeats becoming louder and louder. Then, Satoru’s reassuring smile causes an explosion of warmth and joy to fill Suguru’s cold soul. Among Satoru’s many smiles, this one is truly genuine, saved only for him. It’s almost like he can pick up on Suguru’s desperation and is trying to comfort him in his own unique way.
Suguru wants to take him to the beach. He wants to stroll along the sandy shore, gathering seashells and the infectious laughter that seems to float within fragile, glass-like orbs. He wants to weave through the city streets, sharing stories as easily as they share silence. In every setting, Suguru imagines them together, their vivid memories splashed across the aquarelle of their youth. He wants to buy him pretty flowers, blue and white, because their colors remind him of Satoru, even though he doesn’t know the language of flowers. He wants to take him to his parents’ home while holding his hand. He wants to buy him every snack in the world and scold him for eating them in one go. He wants the morning kisses and goodnight kisses and a myriad of other kisses in between.
He likes Satoru’s stupid jokes that aren’t even funny. It’s in the ridiculous jokes, the shared glances, and the silent promises kept within the confines of their bubble that Suguru finds himself truly at ease. He likes Satoru’s sarcasm and occasional rudeness, although he won’t admit it directly. He likes Satoru’s animated conversations, where he talks enthusiastically and gestures with his hands. He like it when Satoru sends him TikTok videos titled ‘us’, even if they are just silly cat videos. He likes seeing a hair tie around Satoru’s wrist just in case Suguru needs one. He likes Satoru’s love for horror movies, but also finds it endearing that he can get emotional over a cute animal. He likes it when Satoru switches phone cases; he always gets one for Suguru so their phones match. He likes Satoru’s stupid tarot reading with Pokemon cards. He likes when Satoru starts these random projects at 3 AM and bombards Suguru’s phone with voice messages of static noises and him munching on chips while explaining his crazy ideas. He likes when Satoru takes pictures of his food and drinks but doesn’t do anything with them, except for sending them to Suguru when they’re not eating together. He likes Satoru’s gesture of adjusting his glasses on his nose, even when he doesn’t wear them. He likes it when Satoru accidentally bumps into furniture and quickly apologizes as if he did something wrong. He likes Satoru’s laughs, filled with cute hiccups and snorts. He likes the irony that despite Satoru not having any balance on a longboard or skateboard, he still rides behind Suguru on his longboard, gripping his waist tightly, and trusting Suguru not to let them fall.
And then Satoru shifts slightly and their knees accidentally touch, both wearing shorts, making Suguru feel like he’s dying. As Suguru absentmindedly licks his lips, Satoru’s eyes follow the motion, and Suguru catches him in the act. Suguru’s ears suddenly turn a shade of red at the gesture. A few minutes have passed already, and Suguru can feel the sweat trickling down his forehead, a combination of the scorching sun and Satoru’s gaze.
Suddenly, a melody startles everyone, abruptly ending the experiment. Suguru blinks repeatedly, his heart pounding in his chest as he grapples with the overwhelming feeling of being utterly lost.
“And it’s a wrap, thank you everyone!” Shōko puts away the timer, her exclamation serving as the final note to Suguru’s four minutes of what-could-be.
As Satoru extends his hand, his fingers brush against Suguru’s, his voice barely a whisper as he starts to say, “Suguru... I...” The mix of vulnerability and determination in his gaze sends a shiver down Suguru’s spine.
What does it mean? Is this a rejection? Or worse: pity? Both options seem wrong and unforgiving and overwhelming to Suguru, but what he’s most afraid of is losing his best friend in the process. Giving in to his panic, he scrambles to his feet, releasing his hand from Satoru’s hold. “Sorry, I gotta go... I have a project to code,” he quickly lies, before rushing off.
━━━
For a solid two weeks, he avoids Satoru, taking alternate routes and hiding whenever he sees him. No matter what, whenever his best friend tries to talk to him, he always comes up with excuses like having an excessive amount of studying or being fully occupied with his part-time job. While some excuses hold a grain of truth, he blows them out of proportion solely to evade Satoru.
Contrary to popular belief, Suguru and Satoru aren’t roommates. Suguru’s roommate is Chōsō and Satoru is… nonexistent. Satoru is not really allowed to have a roommate, in a way. Like most of the stuff prohibited in their dorms, they are not allowed to gather more than three people at once. This rule was imposed after Satoru had organized some stupid tournaments with all sorts of weird things that ended with the crowning of a king. Or that it’s prohibited to jump on beds, thanks to Satoru’s infamous first day at the dorms when he not only broke his bed but also the ceiling by jumping on it. Or that takeouts are not allowed in the dorms because Satoru caused chaos with his food wars.
But evading him becomes a real challenge when they both live in the same dorms. The opportunity to go somewhere else was too good for him to pass up when Shōko invited him for a quick lunch.
“You can’t keep doing that, you know,” Shōko warns him, prodding his cheek with her chopsticks. Great, now he’s got a smudge of sauce on his cheek. Cleaning it off with annoyance, he shoots a grain of rice at her, using his index finger and thumb.
“Yeah, I know, I just—”
“Ugh, please stop,” she interrupts him abruptly, cutting off his words with annoyance in her voice. “It’s been two weeks of you moping, Gojō looks completely drained, and I can’t deal with your nonsense at this moment. Honestly, what are you so afraid of?”
Caught off guard by the question, he averts his gaze towards the restaurant’s menu, avoiding eye contact with her. It’s a simple enough answer: losing Satoru. Yet, he can’t articulate his thoughts verbally. He is hesitant to voice those thoughts because he believes it would mean accepting the possibility of losing Satoru, something he cannot bring himself to do. Stubbornness is deeply rooted in his very essence, after all. He has been in love with Satoru for so long that he made a silent vow to himself, determined to keep his feelings hidden deep within his heart, for the fear of ruining their friendship forever.
Her voice cuts through the air, devoid of kindness, as she voices those words for him, “If you’re stubborn just because you don’t want to lose him… well, avoiding him isn’t making things any better, Getō. Your nonsensical drama is hurting both him and yourself.”
She brings up a valid point—pushing Satoru away could ultimately mean losing him. He tried so hard to let go, to move forward, to suppress his feelings, but what did he achieve? He’s just being miserable in an izakaya, drowning his feelings in beer alongside his other best friend, the second person who knows him best after Satoru.
━━━
Several days later, he desperately seeks shelter from the relentless heat and finds relief in the library, grateful for the cool breeze provided by the air conditioning.
The relief is short-lived as his thoughts continue to wander to Satoru, feeling the weight of his absence. They have never been separated from each other for this long. This is all because of Suguru and his feelings; he doesn’t want the distance. He just doesn’t know what to do—or say. He should definitely apologize. Shouldn’t he provide an explanation as well? Hey, sorry I’ve been avoiding you. It’s just that I’m in love with you, even though I know you don’t feel the same way. Can we still be friends, please? Yeah, that won’t do.
Suguru doesn’t know when exactly it happened. When he was ten years old, he lost his grandma, and Satoru comforted him in his own unique way. “To die is like losing your soul or your oar, I’m not sure,” Satoru told him, his voice filled with contemplation. “Because you can no longer navigate with the living.” Suguru couldn’t quite put into words what he was feeling, but the only thing that mattered to him was being by this boy’s side for the rest of his life.
A few years later, at fourteen, Satoru received his first love letter, and Suguru’s stomach dropped as if someone had punched him. Suddenly, Suguru’s world felt like it was crumbling around him. He believed it was jealousy, mistakenly attributing his interest in the other girl to that emotion. In reality, it was far from the truth—just a desperate attempt to deal with his emotions. When Satoru turned down the girl’s affection, Suguru experienced a surge of relief that washed over him, like a wave crashing against the shore, and it was in that moment that he fully understood his feelings for Satoru.
He stashed them in a far-off recess of his heart, where they remain out of reach and out of sight, never to be acknowledged again. Losing his best friend is his worst nightmare, and that fear still lingers within him.
Despite the chaos, he knows deep down that the experiment isn’t at fault. In the heat of the moment, quite literally, he lost his grip on reality, sinking into a disheveled puddle of chaos. He missed the opportunity to do the experiment as Satoru’s best friend, instead of imagining someone Suguru would never be for him. Had he not done that, he likely wouldn’t be in this mess right now.
Out of nowhere, a voice whispers in his ear, “Su-gu-ru, I found you,” causing him to jump in surprise. While trying to turn around, he fumbles with his pencil and unintentionally knocks his books off their perch.
“Satoru, what are you doing,” he whispers, feeling Satoru’s firm grip on his shoulders as he looks up to meet his gaze from his seat.
“Surprising you, of course!” He has the nerve to say it so cheerfully, he’s practically glowing.
Satoru just made a grave mistake: he didn’t whisper, and now the library lady is shushing them with an intensity that could silence a room. Suguru turns to her, his eyes filled with remorse, and silently mouths an apology while bowing deeply. Then, he motions for Satoru to take a seat and signals for him to remain quiet. Yet, he should know Satoru and quiet don’t go hand in hand because the moment he takes a seat beside him, Satoru starts talking.
“I just want to talk. It’s pretty urgent. If we don’t talk, I’ll just die. I’m serious.”
More intense shushing and bowing ensue. Suguru lightly taps him on the arm and whispers, “can’t it wait? I’m not done yet.”
Before Satoru has a chance to utter a word, the librarian hushes him again, her finger pressed to her lips. Satoru, visibly annoyed, rolls his eyes and stubbornly crosses his arms as he resigns himself to his fate. With a slow exhale, Suguru turns his attention back to his laptop, the screen casting a soft glow on his face. Just as he is enjoying the peace, Satoru’s fumbling sounds break the silence as he searches for a paper and pen. Suguru briefly considers asking him what he’s doing, but ultimately decides against it.
Occasionally, he sneaks glances at him, observing how he rests his beanpole frame on the table while writing. Satoru appears deeply focused, with his brows knitted together and occasional grumbles slipping from his lips.
Suguru goes back to his program, trying to loop through a list, and absentmindedly creates a list of strings with just Satoru’s name. As soon as he realizes what he’s done, he wipes out the entire code. Frustrated with himself, he curses under his breath for deleting his methods and angrily hits the CTRL Z keys to undo his dumb mistake. With a resolute determination, he resumes writing his list, making sure to leave out any reference to Satoru.
As time goes by, he suddenly becomes aware of a light tap on his shoulder. He turns his head and catches sight of Satoru, cheeks tinged with pink, avoiding his gaze as he extends the paper towards him.
“What is it,” he whispers, his brows furrowed in confusion as he takes the paper in his hands.
All he gets in reply is a shrug, followed by Satoru casually playing on his phone. Suguru also notices the subtle pink hue on the nape of his neck. Despite his growing confusion, he carefully unfurls the paper, allowing it to spread out before him. Then he starts to actually read the letter—because this is what it is, right, a love letter, oh, god—and his heart completely combusts. He wants to scream, to grab Satoru by the shoulders and demand if this is some kind of prank or joke, if there is any meaning behind his words, if he truly means what Suguru is reading—
And there is also a small part of him that holds onto hope, that dares to believe, maybe, just maybe, he has been wrong all along. He had chosen to protect his heart and their friendship for far too long, denying himself the chance to hope, and now he wished he had been more courageous and taken the risk.
His gaze shifts to Satoru, who is deliberately fixated on his phone, yet his flushed cheeks and the way he nibbles on his lower lip reveal his nervousness. Suguru continues reading the letter, his fingers gripping it tightly as if his entire world depends on it. With a grip so tight that his fingers start to ache, Suguru devours every word of the letter, his heart pounding in his chest.
Hey,
So, you know the lady who’s practically glued to the bookshelves at our spot? Yeah, the librarian. She’s really starting to get on my last nerve. I swear I wasn’t even yelling. Does she think she owns the place? Well, technically, she kinda does. But that’s beside the point. I’m getting sidetracked; typical me, right? Actually, there’s a legit reason I’m writing this.
...
……….
Okay, this is a lot harder than I expected. How do they make it look so easy in movies? There should be a disclaimer or something.
I guess what I’m awkwardly trying to say is... I like your stupid face. Wait, that came out wrong. I don’t mean you’re stupid. Far from it. It’s just me being, well, me. I’m stupid. Ridiculously stupid for you. And for the record, you’re not stupid at all. You’re brilliant, actually. Your brain? It’s nothing short of extraordinary. It’s like an endless ocean of thoughts and ideas that I could listen to forever and ever. Remember that time you went off about hashmaps and those pyramids of doom or whatever? I didn’t catch half of it, but watching you light up, seeing that spark in your eyes… it was mesmerizing. You have this way of making even the most complex coding concepts sound like poetry. And I’m there, just completely captivated by you.
But it’s not just your pretty sparkly brain that’s got me writing this sappy letter. No, it’s more than that. You’re beautiful. Not just run-of-the-mill handsome, but stop-in-your-tracks, how-is-this-even-real kind of beautiful. Honestly, you’re probably the most breathtaking person I’ve ever laid eyes on.
And it’s not just about the way you look or how smart you are. It’s the way you laugh, how your eyes crinkle at the corners, and that ridiculous thing you do when you’re concentrating, poking your tongue out slightly. It’s the way you care, deeply and genuinely, about the people in your life. How you can help others without waiting for them to ask, how you can show me your vulnerable side, how you’d go through hell for the ones you love. You’re this amazing blend of contradictions that somehow just makes perfect sense to me.
You know I’ve never been the type to dive deep into relationships or stick around long enough to want something more. I always found some excuse, some reason why it wouldn’t work. But over time, I started noticing a pattern. Every time I thought about starting something with someone, I’d catch myself thinking, “Wait, I don’t want this person to come between Suguru and me,” or “It’s not fair to date someone when I already have the most important person in my life,” or even “How can I manage a relationship without cutting into my time with Suguru and someone else?” It was like I was circling around the truth without really seeing it.
Then came the four-minute experiment, where we just looked into each other’s eyes. Sounds silly, right? But then, something just clicked. It was like all those excuses and denials just disappeared, and I realized that the reason I’d been holding back wasn’t about timing or fairness or not being ready. It was because, deep down, I wanted it to be you. You’re the one I didn’t want to lose to anyone else, the one I wanted to spend all my time with, the one I was actually ready for.
So yeah, I like you. More than like, actually. I’m pretty sure I’m head over heels here, stumbling through my feelings like a fool. But if I’m going to be a fool, I’m glad it’s for someone as incredible as you. Ugh, that was so cheesy, I’m cringing so hard right now. But hey, I’m pretty sure you feel the same way so let’s ruin our friendship together, yeah?
Satoru
By the time he reaches the last words of the letter, a shiver runs down his spine, intensifying his fear of looking up and finding a pool of uncertainty in Satoru’s gaze. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and swallows, attempting to regain his focus.
It seems as though his mind operates like a complex system, handling multiple essential tasks simultaneously. Then, out of nowhere, amidst the routine operations, he receives an unexpected input: a love letter that leaves him breathless and filled with hope. This isn’t just any data packet; it’s a crucial piece of information that could change everything. Like a recursive function, he delves deeper into layers of self-awareness and emotional complexity with each passing moment. Initially, he’s met with a barrage of exceptions—SelfDoubtException, VulnerabilityError, and ConstantFearTimeout—each screaming errors that could potentially crash the system. Suddenly, Satoru transforms into a critical update. This is more than just a patch—it’s a radical rework of his input processing, converting fear and uncertainty into parameters to understand, instead of errors to fear.
When he opens his eyes, he is momentarily startled to see Satoru staring right back at him. “Satoru, I—” he tries to say, but his words are abruptly silenced by the librarian’s sharp and forceful shush. Suguru rolls his eyes in annoyance, but then takes a deep breath to calm himself before gathering his belongings and standing up. With his backpack slung over his shoulders and the letter clutched tightly in his left hand, he grips Satoru’s arm and forcefully drags him out of the school library.
“Suguru, where are we going?”
With no trace of animosity, he tersely replies, “shut up.” Chuckling softly, Satoru surrenders to being dragged across the campus, his feet gliding across the smooth pavement.
They speed-walk for what feels like an eternity before finally reaching their dorms and entering Suguru’s room. Noticing his roommate’s absence, he lets out a long sigh, the stillness of the space weighing on him. With his back turned to Satoru, he closes the door and lets his backpack slide down to the floor with a soft thud.
He doesn’t want to turn around, not yet at least. Now that they are in private, he lets himself fully experience the rush of emotions he had suppressed at the library. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale… One hand on the door anchoring his soul, one hand on the letter protecting his heart.
From behind him, a soft voice calls out, making him feel like he’s miles away. “Suguru…”
As he breathes out, he notices the dampness on his cheeks, but he resolutely stays in place. It doesn’t matter if he’s crying at the moment; he’s cried so many times in the past that it doesn’t even faze him anymore. He became so skilled at concealing his emotions that he could cry silently against his pillow without making a single sound.
He asks, his voice trembling with vulnerability, desperately holding back tears, “Did you truly mean every word you wrote in the letter?”
A soft step behind him suggests Satoru is getting closer.
“Suguru… are you crying?” Satoru asks, his voice filled with gentleness, as he delicately places his hand on Suguru’s shoulder, as if afraid it might shatter. Suguru feels like he might shatter, or rather, his heart might crumble like fragile glass.
With a surge of determination, he turns around to confront Satoru, his hand tightly gripping the letter as he presses it against Satoru’s chest. “Did you mean it?” Desperately, he asks again, his heart yearning for the answer he longs to hear, as he searches those deep, ocean-like eyes. Satoru’s eyes widen with panic as Suguru doesn’t give him any time to respond. “Because I’ve loved you for so long,” he confesses, the words tumbling out in a rush, “that I never even considered the possibility that you could love me back. Is it true? Tell me it is, please.” His voice quivers as he pleads, the last word barely escaping his lips, yet he pushes on, relentless. “I’ve loved you, loved you through all these years we’ve known each other, and not once did I let myself imagine, not even for a fleeting moment, that you might see me the same way, and then there was Shōko’s experiment, and it was like a crack in the universe just for us, and I was so happy, so unbelievably happy and unbearably sad all at once because for those few precious minutes I let myself believe, selfishly, foolishly, that you were mine, that we were us, but it was just a few minutes, wasn’t it, and then reality crashed back in, reminding me, cruelly reminding me that—”
“Suguru, hold on,” Satoru says, trying to calm him down. “Take a deep breath in, and slowly release it.” Suguru feels gentle hands on his face, guiding him to take a deep breath in and exhale slowly. Satoru’s forehead gently presses against his, and they both savor a fleeting moment of stillness, their eyes closed.
After a few seconds, he hears Satoru’s voice, filled with sincerity, as he says, “I meant every word in that letter. If we were cats, you’d be the love of my nine lives, I swear. I’m sorry for being slow, but I’m seriously, madly in love with you.”
Suguru takes a deep breath, moving his forehead away from Satoru’s and burying his face in the warm embrace of his best friend’s neck, inhaling his familiar scent. He hesitates for a moment, then finally musters the courage to voice his deepest fears. “What if it doesn’t work out? What if I lose you forever?”
“It’s possible that things won’t work out, and I’m scared of that, too. But the thought of not even attempting to keep you is a much greater loss for me. What if it works out?”
There is no denying it, and besides, he has practically lost the battle already. With a hushed tone, he whispers, “I’m sorry I avoided you all this time,” his voice tinged with remorse.
“It’s okay,” Satoru assures him, his hands soothingly rubbing circles on his back. “Shōko said you were going through stuff.”
As they fall into a comfortable silence, Suguru gently separates from Satoru and guides them, holding hands, towards his bed. As they sit, he reaches for his phone and opens his flip-a-coin app, ready to make a decision. Heads: protect their friendship, tails: ruin their friendship. Seeing heads on the app, he reacts impulsively and tosses his phone aside in disbelief. He never really believed in luck, anyway.
“Okay.”
“Okay what?”
“I’m alright with ruining our friendship.”
“Then prove it.”
Suguru leans in.