𝚂𝚞𝚐𝚊𝚛 | 𝚔. 𝚜𝚞𝚐𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚊

- Sushi, pt. 1 -

He smiles, glancing up from the screen. Calm and collected, he slides his phone into his pocket, video beyond sight and mind. "Anything for you, love." Sugawara stands. "Just let me get my keys."

-

After getting into the car, the question of where we're going to eat arises. After some discussion, we land on a few places. There're burger, sushi, and pizza establishments in town. Since we had Japanese cuisine for breakfast, Sugawara quickly bats the option down. And we agreed to only have pizza on Fridays. Which leaves a classic location, Burger King.

But I don't feel like eating burgers.

"C'mon, y/n, just choose." Sugawara runs his fingers through his hair, eyes fixated on the road. "You were the one that wanted to eat out in the first place."

My stomach grumbles. The clock on the dash reads 1:45. "I wanted to get sushi."

"We had Japanese for breakfast." Suga retorts, stopping harshly at a red light.

"But it's different, sushi is a different group in comparison to-"

"We aren't eating that."

"Well I don't want burgers."

The light turns green and Sugawara revs the gas, speeding off at a pace I'm not used to. I stare out the window, chin pressed into my hand. The streets and structures of the city crawl by as we make circles around the block.

"Fine." Sugawara breaks the silence.

I turn in my seat and look at him, hope crashing over the tense air between us. "Fine what?"

He averts his gaze, grumbling out a reply. "We can get sushi."

"Okay." I smile, wringing my fingers together. I owe him one.

We end up stopping at a local establishment, parking across the way. I snatch his hand as we cross the road. Intersections made me uneasy, even with red lights and stop signs. A vision of screeching tires careens through my mind.

I clutch Sugawara closer to me, a shaky breath tumbling through my lungs. Flitting gazes and sirens follow close behind, a world of crumbling streets and cracked glass, wailing cries as the world grows dark in a suffocating hospital bed. I squeeze my eyes shut, leaning against Suga's shoulder. Not here, not today. Please.

"Are you okay?" His voice cuts through tangled wires, tearing me away from the confines of memory. "Love?"

The ground underneath my shoes turns to sidewalk. The tightness in my chest ceases as I open my eyes to a face of concern. Emotion brims in his eyes, threatening to overflow.

"We can-" I blink, taking a shuddering breath, "-talk about it later."

Sugawara doesn't reply. I force myself forward on unsteady feet, tugging him inside the sushi establishment. Soft lavender lighting glazes the entryway. To our left, a waterfall is built into the wall, draining to a pool inhabited by several black and white koi. To the right lies several black booths, mostly full, and hallways I'm sure lead to kitchens and bathrooms.

I plant a kiss on Suga's cheek as we wait to be seated. He's distracted, troublesome thoughts clouding his gaze. He chews at the inside of his cheek.

I press up onto my toes, murmuring a warm reassurance to his ear. "I'm fine, I promise."

A waiter, who introduces himself as Itadori, leads us to an empty booth. He takes drink orders, relieved when we only request water. Itadori passes out menus before shying away, winking at Sugawara as if they were children whispering inside jokes to one another.

"Pink hair, huh?" Suga comments, watching with a careful gaze as Itadori rounds a corner.

"And tattoos below his eyes," I continue, resting my head in an empty palm, "must've hurt."

"I guess they'll hire anyone in this day and age."

A chuckle escapes my lips before we settle into comfortable silence. Gentle music flutters in the background.

Stay with me...

I blink. The lyrics are familiar, striking a chord somewhere deep in my mind.

Mayonaka no doa o tataki...

It's an old Japanese song. I take a sharp breath, raising a feeble block to stop the painful recollections. It's too late.

Kaeraide to naita...

We were separated by a gauzy white and blue curtain. It was her favorite song to listen to. The nurses came for her more often than I, the beeps never ceasing their cries. I always closed my eyes, focusing on the music instead of the wails. One day, she asked to meet me. I denied her request.

One day, the music stopped, as did her crying machinery. I never saw them take her away, but I knew she'd escaped the miserable wires that I was chained down by.

I don't know what came over me. I pulled away my IVs, crying, wailing as blood welled over into my sheets and pain clouded my drug infused conscious.

"It's not fair," I recall arguing with the nurses as they tugged me back down into the bloody sheets as I kicked and cried, "why'd she get to leave, why'd the music stop?"

They never did answer my questions. They only wrapped my wounds in gauze and smiled.

"Hey, lady, are you going to order?" The edged tone snaps my bandages.

"Huh?" I take note of a menu in my hands. I'm not in a hospital, nor am I surrounded by wailing creations of man. The song is long gone, replaced by something foreign.

Scanning the contents of the menu, a name catches my eye. "I'll take the volcano roll and a bowl of clear soup."

Sugawara has already placed his order, sipping from a tall glass of water. I hand our menus to Itadori, catching an expression flooded with concern out of my peripheral vision. Itadori flashes me a similar look.

Weirdo.

I turn to Suga, only to be blasted with a flurry of charged questions.

"What's wrong?" I shake my head, open my mouth to reply. He doesn't give me a chance to make excuses. "Something's wrong, I see it in your eyes. Whenever you're worried your expression tightens and closes off from me and you focus on whatever is-" he sputters, at a loss for words, "-farthest below you."

"Sugar, I-"

"Please don't make excuses." Sugawara leans across the table, snatching at my hand. His grasp is clammy and desperate. "You've been, I don't know, off, ever since we parked the car."

"I've just been thinking." I start, then tumble off, unsure of my footing.

"Did I do something wrong? I'm sorry for being rude earlier, I promise I didn't mean it." His eyes urge me to utter the truth, latched onto my every movement. I am his only concern, his spotlight of focus.

"It's not that." He searches my expression for negative emotion to latch onto, thread of falsehood strewn in my woe. There is none.

"Then what has you down?" Suga presses, squeezing my hand. "You can tell me anything, I'll love you no matter what you say."

I'm drowning in hospital beds and tangled wires. I'm afraid of the end, the end of love, the end of life, losing my chance with the one I care for most.

A shudder drips down my spine. The worries swim to the forefront of my tongue, aching to spill over and be vented and released into a place that welcomes and accepts you no matter what mistakes you make. I take a sharp breath, summoning a pool of courage.

"Sugar, I want to-"