But I don't like sweet corn.
Every crunch feels unsettling, like an unfamiliar sound in the dark. Each bite is a small, gritty betrayal of my senses. As my teeth press down, the sweet, mushy interior oozes into every crevice of my mouth, filling the small hollows between my teeth. It’s disturbing, an almost grotesque sensation that spreads like static in my mind. It makes my stomach twist.
But I keep chewing. I keep biting, not because I enjoy it, but because of who gave me the sweet corn.
"Suguru,"
I whisper, barely louder than the rain tapping against the window. I'm not sure if he's asleep, but I don’t want to wake him if he is.
"Satoru,"
he replies, his voice is gentle, almost affectionate, the way it lingers on my name, curling softly. It's comforting, yet it throws me into a deeper whirlpool of thought. Does he really mean it? Does he ever mean any of it? My mind keeps spinning, questioning, doubting. It’s always the same. Overthinking everything until I can’t tell what’s real anymore.
I roll over, my body heavy with the weight of thoughts I can't quite manage to silence. The blanket clings to me as I shift, turning so I can see him lying on the floor. His eyes are closed, his breathing steady, and the rain dances softly around us. I watch him, as if the answers I’m looking for are somewhere in the rise and fall of his chest.
“We should get an aquarium,” I say out of nowhere, my voice quiet, but steady. The idea seems to fill the silence, something to hold onto amidst the torrent of thoughts.
"What? Satoru, go to sleep," he laughs softly, the sound like a ripple cutting through the tension.
“No, I’m serious,” I insist, leaning on my elbow as I stare down at him.
“We should get an aquarium in our future house.”
"Satoru~, of course, we can have an aquarium in our home," he murmurs, humoring me. There’s a teasing lilt to his voice, but beneath it, I can hear the warmth.
"Now go to sleep. Or else you'll be even more annoying tomorrow."
I smile, a soft one, almost involuntary. The banter eases the tension inside me, his lightness dissolving the heaviness I’ve been carrying all evening. Maybe it was all in my head–the distance I felt earlier. Maybe it was just me overthinking, overanalysing the moments between us. The rain continues to pour outside, a steady rhythm that blends with the sound of Suguru’s breathing. It’s soothing now, lulling me into a calm I hadn’t expected to feel tonight.
I continue watching him from my bed, the dim light casting soft shadows over his face. I always wonder what he's thinking about, even now, when he seems so peaceful. But I never ask. I'm afraid of the answer. I’m afraid of what it could mean.
The truth is, I don’t care if Suguru’s putting on an act when he’s like this–gentle, playful, kind. I don’t care if there’s a deeper, darker part of him that he’s hiding, something heavier that he won’t let me see. What scares me more is the idea that if I ever find out what he’s hiding, he won’t need me anymore.
That maybe the real Suguru doesn’t need someone like me at all.
That thought terrifies me. It grips me in a way that nothing else does.
So even if I could help him with whatever’s weighing him down, even if I could reach out and take that burden from him, I don’t think I would. Because what if that’s the thing that makes him leave? What if, without that weight, he realises he doesn’t need me–
"Satoru?"
.
"Yeah?"
.
"Go to sleep."
"I am sleeping," I lie, the words slipping out too quickly, too easily. I feel a surge of embarrassment, like he’s caught me in my restless thoughts, but there’s also a quiet sense of relief. He noticed.
And in that moment, everything feels a little less heavy. I've made up my mind. It doesn’t matter if Suguru is hiding something, or if he's not. It doesn’t matter if this version of him is real or just a mask. He’s here with me now, and that’s enough. I won't let myself get lost in the endless spiral of doubts and what-ifs. I won’t lose him.
I bite down on the last kernel of sweet corn, the taste still as unsettling as it was before. But somehow, it’s easier to swallow now.
I turn back over, pulling the blanket tighter around me as the rain continues its steady drumbeat outside. Suguru shifts slightly on the floor, his movements soft and unassuming.
There’s a silence that settles between us now, but it’s not the kind that makes me uneasy. It’s the kind that fills the spaces between words, that lingers like a quiet understanding. We don’t need to say anything more tonight.
But as I close my eyes, I know that the questions will return. The doubts, the overthinking, the constant need for reassurance–they’ll come back, like they always do. And I’ll fight them off, again and again, because that’s what I do.
I won’t let Suguru slip away. Even if he’s holding something back, even if he’s not always this soft, this kind–I’ll be here. I’ll stay. Because I can’t imagine a world where he’s not by my side.
"Satoru?"
His voice breaks through the quiet again, pulling me from the edge of sleep.
"Hmm?"
"Thanks for the aquarium idea," he says, his tone light, teasing. "I think it’ll look nice in our future home."
A small smile tugs at the corner of my mouth, and I let myself drift off, the sound of the rain and his soft breathing the last things I hear before sleep takes me.
I’ll hold onto this moment, this fragile peace, for as long as I can.
