His Hands

it would feel like this

Suguru

I love you.

The words that have been stuck on replay in my mind but unable to escape my lips so effortlessly flowed out of Satoru. His voice was saturated with revelation as if he just discovered a groundbreaking truth.

For a moment I forget how to breathe. Just a second ago, I was looking over my boyfriend's tragic excuse for an apple, trying to find the right words to say that I understood why Sora hadn't let him paint yet. And then, with a single line, he brings my world to a screeching halt.

I have spent weeks convincing myself it wasn't the right time yet and that my confession would burden him more than anything. And yet, Satoru had said it so easily.

Without fear.

Without uncertainty.

Suddenly, I remember how to pull oxygen back into my lungs. I blink, and then blink again, before turning my gaze to Gojo.

He is already looking at me intently. I can see his mind turning itself over and over behind his eyes, trying to gauge my reaction. After a moment, he turns his attention to the drawing and picks up the conversation as if he hasn't said anything,

"I guess it does look like a squash, huh? Now I can't unsee it."

Only now, do I realize I haven't actually responded to his confession. There was no I love you, too or I've wanted to tell you for so long or you're far too good for me what are you saying.

Guilt stabs me in the ribs. In my shock, I didn't even let him know it was mutual.

I can feel my eyes well up with tears but I hurriedly blink them away before they breach the surface. With a light touch, I turn Satoru's head to face me. I take a moment to look into the eyes that I long to swim in for an eternity and pray that all the things I wish I could say will transfer to him.

Then, I lean in and kiss his lips softly. My fingers graze under his ear and settle on the line of his undercut as I kiss him again.

When I finally pull away and open my eyes, Satoru is wearing a smile so bright and true that I know he understands me. Nothing I could say would be able to capture how I feel, but that's okay because I didn't need to say anything.

He understands me.

— —

My writing lately has gotten sloppy, I need to work on my personal journaling less and my school essays more.

So far, I've been getting top marks in everything. But after Satoru telling me he loves me last week, I've been much more distracted when it comes to school work. So I'm glad he called a study group together.

Sora pokes my forearm,

"I'm happy to peer review your essay if you'd like."

Giving them a small smile as I look up from my laptop I say,

"Thanks, I might take you up on that. Gojo always just tells me it's great without giving much critical feedback."

"How's that going between you two?" Ieiri asks now as she shuffles her notebook papers.

My eyes flicker towards the cafe line that Satoru was standing in. He wanted more strawberry mochi, his favorite.

Our group decided to meet at the campus commons, typically once a week. Utahime was also usually present, but she had to be home for dinner tonight.

"It's going," I roll my eyes after Ieiri nudges my shoulder with hers.

"He talks about you a lot, you know," Sora tells me, their mouth pulled up into a half smirk.

"Shitty hair gushing about Suguru?" Ieiri leans forward, wiggling her eyebrows playfully,

"Do tell."

Shaking my head, my ears burning in a blush, I change subject,

"How's the art club going this year? Gojo seems to really enjoy it, he showed me some of his pieces last week."

Sora's entire expression changes into one of surprise, their eyes widen dramatically,

"He finally showed you?"

"Yeah, he kind of sucks," I say with a chuckle,

"But I admire his persistence to keep attempting."

"I can't believe he showed you after swearing me to secrecy–" They cut themself off, narrowing their eyes at me,

"Wait, what pieces did he show you?"

Confused by Sora's response, I shrug,

"The apple that could pass as a squash and a few different attempts at a lime wedge."

The crease between Sora's eyebrows eases somewhat,

"Oh, he only showed you the fruit."

Ieiri perks up again at this,

"Does he draw other things than fruit?"

Sora giggles, their eyes flashing at Ieiri,

"I'd say most of his work is fruity, actually."

Ieiri and Sora share a look before they both fall into a fit of giggles. I'm clearly missing a joke here. Before I can ask more about it, Satoru comes back over with a plate of strawberry mochi for himself and a hot black tea for me.

The gesture makes my heart pound, I didn't ask for tea but he knew I'd like some.

Sitting back beside me, he also places the plate in the center of the table, indicating that anyone may have some of his snack.

"Whatcha guys talking about?" He asks after stuffing a mochi into his mouth.

Ieiri snorts at his muffled words, tapping her pen against her cheek as she grins mischievously,

"Sora was telling us just how fruity your artwork was."

Satoru coughs, choking slightly and then swallows his food quickly. His eyes are watering in a slight panic as they flash between me and Sora and Ieiri.

"What about my fruit art?"

"Just that it's not all fruit, but it is fruity," Sora explains, their tone bored as they look back down at their own homework.

I quirk an eyebrow at my boyfriend,

"What other pieces are you working on for the art club?"

His cheeks flush slightly, and his gaze moves back to his own laptop,

"Random stuff, I'll show you when I get better at it."

"Fine, let's get back to this," I sigh, rolling up my sleeves to start up my essay again.

We all go back to our work, but I could've sworn I felt Gojo kick Sora under the table.