[satosugu] saturday night live || moonlilies

(( ~˙꒳​˙ )~(„• ֊ •„)

Email, outgoing from: Gojo Satoru, scheduled 9:00 AM. 〚February 14, 2019〛

Hi, all!

I'll be out for the entire day today to attend to some personal matters, but if you need valentine's day chocolates or wingmen rest assured that I'll be available 4 PM onwards to assist you. That'll be my present to you all as deputy project director.  That said, I'll see you tomorrow at our scheduled meeting, still at 10:00 AM. I'll be giving everyone their chocolates then.

I hope you enjoy your day!

– Gojo

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A photograph  〚February 14, 2019〛

There are four people in the photo. On the leftmost portion is a grumpy-looking boy with blonde hair, holding onto an ice cream cone and a pink paperbag decorated with hearts. The boy beside him is beaming at the camera and has his arm around the blonde's. He is holding up a peace sign with his other hand. On his right is another dark-haired boy in a bun smiling slightly. He is holding a cinamoroll plushie and has his hand intertwined with the rightmost person, a white-haired, bespectacled boy. Said boy is sticking his tongue out at the camera. A ferris wheel looms behind them surrounded by other sights and fairs.

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〚March 2019〛

Trying, as Satoru had learned earlier on in his life, isn't linear. That's totally credible because he's been through a ton of shit in the earlier parts of his life. You could ask him about what packing tape tastes like and he'd prompt you with "wet or dry?" as if eating any kind of tape was normal. (In his defense, both tape incidents were purely accidental, and both involved Suguru.) He'd never been through this, though. It was like living just slightly beside himself—everyday he'd go through his days feeling like he was looking at a shitty third-person rendition of himself in a terrible video game that was struggling to load because of even more terrible wifi.

His days went like this: he'd go to university ten minutes before his first class and arrive exactly ten minutes after his class starts. He doesn't take notes because he believes he doesn't need to, but he makes at least five mental reminders to hit the books later that day when he's free. He goes to his second class; rinse and repeat. By the time lunchtime rolls by, his head's more full of mental reminders than actual class material. It doesn't matter. He studies better alone.

He talks to some people involved in some shit he doesn't want to involve himself in but has to anyway because it's their final year next year and he has to rack up some points on his would-be resume like the good part of the workforce he is. He gets asked at least thrice that month if he and Suguru are dating again, and he answers that no, they're just trying things out and seeing what's best. He gets pissed after because it's only then that he realizes he doesn't even need to answer them.

He crashes home, alone. He's used to it. He opens his books and papers and tries to shut himself off for the rest of the day, but not before he sends seven photos of himself doing the weirdest faces he could think of to his best friend.

Some things needed upsetting so they could fall correctly into place, and that was how it was starting to become with Suguru. They'd fallen into some unspoken agreement that wasn't stifling for once. It felt like they should have been doing this before instead of putting on labels, even; they weren't built for those anyway. The lines were so blurred with them that they simply ceased to exist. Still, it was a gradual process—the I love you's weren't new, of course, but their reintroduction rearranged some things in the precarious balance of things with the both of them.

They're treading on thin ice, Satoru knows, but it's ice they crushed and put there themselves.

When it's time for him to sleep, he doesn't—he traces the glow-in-the-dark stars above his bunk, feeling them, letting them grace his fingertips. He thought once that these stars were made of both him and Suguru; they'd witnessed everything in silence, wrapped in the gray-dim light of the room. Suguru had kept a nightlight when he lived in the apartment. He feels sorry to the stars for not getting a replacement light when Suguru's had gone.