二十四

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TITLE: it would be a hundred times easier
AUTHOR: aurorareality on AO3

TITLE: it would be a hundred times easier AUTHOR: aurorareality on AO3

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All is still in the prison realm, even time.

Satoru spends his days half-buried in himself, and so in memory, and so in-well. Funny how the past was ever a replica of the present, how the most alive things and places and people begin to turn over and over like dead specimens in his mind.

Most of the time, he tries to sleep, and do it without dreaming. Sometimes he succeeds. Other times he sees Suguru, pulling him endlessly up the flight of stairs that lead to his dorm, always too hot in the summer and too cold in the winter, approaching yet never quite reaching that rickety door, that bed on which they had once laid with their legs tangled together.

They'd had sex for the first time on that bed. It had been the first green shoots of summer, their second year. Before everything had gone to shit. Satoru had been lying spread-eagle on his stomach, hogging the entirety of Suguru's bed, swirling around the empty bottle of his strawberry ramune to listen to the small marble clink against the glass sides.

"Suguru," he whined, dragging out the last syllable, and the boy in question lifted his head slightly from where he was seated cross-legged on the floor, bent slightly over some depressing post-war book they had been assigned for literature class.

"Satoru," he responded idly, flipping a page. A can of boring convenience store green tea sat next to him, condensation dripping slowly and quietly onto the wood flooring.

Satoru pouted even though he knew Suguru wasn't looking at him. He wanted him to pay attention to him, damn it. Not for the first time, he ran his eyes over Suguru's tied-up black hair, the bead of sweat running down the nape of his neck into his loose white shirt, the toned curve of muscle on his arms. He was sitting directly in front of the fan, and the wind made his bangs flutter around his face. His stupid, pretty face.

"Suguru," he said again.

"Mhm," came the reply, and Satoru scowled. He knew when he was being humoured.

"Come on, let's go to the store. I'm bored and I want ice cream."

Suguru was halfway through another vaguely affirmative sound when he seemed to realize what Satoru had said. "Absolutely not, you idiot. It's way too hot to go out."

Satoru groaned, rolled on his back, and threw his arm over his eyes. For another few minutes, there was no sound in the room except for the occasional flip of a page, the whirr of the fan, and their soft syncopated breaths.

"We should fuck."

The statement, once blurted out, hung stark in the silence. Maybe it was a moment of delirious summer confidence, maybe he had wanted it all along. Who knew?

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