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smoments · 3 months

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✧ part 16 (final part): memories of a stranger // a satosugu reincarnation au

❝ let's meet again, for the first time. ❞

╰┈➤ in which 19-year old gojo satoru happens upon a stranger at a cafe who speaks his name with a kind of softness and familiarity that satoru’s sure he’s heard before.

chapter 1

ao3 link

➽ chapter 16: my one and only

That morning begins the same way that it has every year prior; Satoru, who apparently has an inner alarm clock that only works on one out of every three hundred sixty-five days, shoots up in bed as if on cue and stretches out his arms, appreciating his surroundings on a deeper level now that he’s viewing them with a new maturity. He stays silent for as long as he can before the anticipation overtakes him, and then he rolls over to the other side of the bed and grabs Suguru by the shoulder, shaking him urgently.

“Wake up! Guess whose birthday it is?”

Suguru could honestly just set his alarm for earlier on Satoru’s birthday so he wouldn’t have to be awoken so abruptly. Unfortunately, he insists that it’s about the principle of the thing, which Satoru thinks is dumb- especially because it also means that the first expression he usually makes on this day is disgruntled, not reverent.

As usual, he groans, stretching out and gazing up at Satoru through bleary eyes.

“Satoru, we’ve talked about this… I assure you that I’d be far more enthusiastic about your birthday if you didn’t wake me up at an ungodly hour every year.”

Satoru nods, trying to look sympathetic since he doesn’t particularly feel like switching up what has now become such a sentimental part of their routine. “Maybe you’ll get lucky the fourth time around?”

“Considering it’s you, I highly doubt that.”

He throws himself onto Suguru’s half-awake form in starfish fashion, his limbs stretching easily from the headboard to the foot of the bed, and Suguru catches him with little effort.

“Well. I guess you’ll just have to break up with me, then.” He goads, tracing little stars on Suguru’s upper arm with the tips of his fingers.

“You know that won’t happen.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I wouldn’t let you out easy. Ever tried canceling a gym membership?”

Suguru rolls his eyes, resting a light hand on Satoru’s upper back.

“No, I meant that you were worth keeping around.”

He groans, suddenly bashful, and rolls to the other side of the bed, smothering his face with a pillow to hide his embarrassment - badly, since he’s also kicking his feet and rolling around in the sheets.

“You’re cheesy, Suguru.”

Suguru rolls his eyes, extending his arm to the mahogany nightstand next to the bed and spinning the digital alarm clock atop it toward himself.

“Most of the time, at least.”

He stops fanboying and throws the pillow onto his lap, sitting up again with a new indignance in his voice.

“How dare you! On my birthday, of all days!” “You’re the one who called me cheesy,” he protests, but turns to press his lips briefly to the crown of Satoru’s mess of hair, a place with which he’s grown rather well-acquainted. “Happy birthday, Satoru.”

Satoru grins, relaxing at his touch, and speaks again with a new thoughtfulness in his voice. “I feel so old. But, like, in a cool way. You think I’ll start going gray soon?”

“It’ll be hard to tell if you do.”

“My hair is white, not gray!”

“Yeah, so it’ll be, like… highlights? Me, on the other hand, with all this stress…” He sighs remorsefully, reaching up to run a hand through his mussed hair and inclining his head towards the apparent cause of his agony. “I’ll be lucky to have anything left by twenty-five.”

“Oh, you wanna see stress? I’ll show you stress!” He flings the pillow at Suguru’s smirking face, groaning when he catches it and sets it gently down at the headboard before swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

“Come back! Didn’t you wanna go back to sleep?”

Suguru scoffs at him, flicking on the bathroom light and grabbing his toothbrush from the sink.

”After all this commotion? Even if I could, you never let me sleep on your birthday.”

“It’s one of the most important days of the year, Suguru, so you should enjoy it for as long as you can.”

“You don’t let me sleep in on my own birthday either.”

“Exactly?”

“It’s my birthday, so shouldn’t the whole point be that I can do whatever I want?”

“No.”

“Okay.”

Suguru is rather difficult to argue with. Not that Satoru makes much of an effort.

“Are the kids awake yet?”

“Have you woken them up yet?”

“Huh. Good point.”

Deciding to move in together was hardly a question; it became necessary at that point in their relationship when they started spending enough nights together that more of his belongings were at Suguru’s house than his- forgotten articles of clothing tucked away in a drawer that Suguru silently reserved for him, sketchbooks flipped to open pages scrawled with doodles and haphazard, half-formed ideas for paintings strewn across his living room, a fridge stocked with Satoru’s favorite kind of apples and all the sweets that Suguru tolerated but never went out of his way to buy for himself; his presence lingered in the corners of the small apartment even when he wasn’t there, and both of them were acutely aware of it. At some point, he grew fed up with never being able to find his toothbrush and brought the issue up to Suguru.

“Why don’t you just buy another toothbrush?”

“Are you trying to ignore the callings of fate?”

So they moved in together. That would have happened eventually either way, but Satoru deemed sooner better than later. He hoped that he and Suguru would have all the time in the world together, but he hardly intended to rely on that notion. Why wait at all, right?

The children were a different story. Megumi and Tsumiki were both young- far too young to be faring for themselves, even with their frequent visits and check-ins. They’d grown close enough over the past two years that Satoru felt comfortable bringing up a change in living arrangements - and Megumi wasn’t particularly enthusiastic about most anything, so the glimmer of joy in his eyes upon Satoru’s suggestion was more than enough for Suguru to get on board too.

Even if they couldn’t yet officially adopt given their age, having them close was comforting. Tsumiki and Megumi had essentially raised themselves until that point, and while Satoru mourned the childhood that had already been taken from them, he wanted them to enjoy the rest of it to the fullest.

And besides- the place they’d chosen was larger than they could justify for just the two of them, like they’d known they would end up needing the extra space.

Satoru heads to the nearest bedroom first, his socked feet padding softly against the wooden floor. The kids love to tease them about how they can tell who’s at the door from the sound of their footsteps, or how they knock; apparently, Suguru taps lightly at the door and then waits, while he raps his fist against the wood, his other hand already at the knob and ready to turn.

He pokes his head through the second one of the girls calls out in assent, gracing the twins with a playfully charming grin.

“Hellooo? We’re sleeping in today, are we?”

“He’s been waiting to say that all year.”

“Yeah, because he usually doesn’t wake up early enough.”

They dissolve into a fit of giggles, and he rolls his eyes, holding out his arms expectantly.

“So? Where’s my birthday gift?”

“We’ll give it to you later. At the party.”

Mimiko nods vehemently, and he shakes his head, but relents. He doesn’t quite get why they prefer to share a bedroom when they have the extra space, but Suguru says it’s how they feel most comfortable, so he doesn’t inquire.

Suguru has always been more intuitive between the two of them when it comes to stuff like that, and, of course, it was he who took them in just a few years ago. Satoru was happy for him when he began the non-profit, but he only truly understood why Suguru felt so strongly about his choice of career when he showed up at their front door one day with two little girls at his side, his expression just as resolved as it was apologetic. His line of work meant that he occasionally came into contact with victims of abuse or abandonment, but most of the time he was just an intermediary. From the look on his face, this time was different.

Satoru didn’t miss a beat; if Suguru loved them, then he was sure it would come just as easily to him. And that it did.

He never understood when people said you had to be related by blood to truly know a parental connection- he loved all of the children like they were his own. Besides, if that was the case, then wouldn’t you have to be related to your spouse to truly love them, too? He shudders at the thought, deciding that maybe that isn’t such a great analogy, and Nanako asks him, word for word, ‘why he looks like that’.

“How rude! This is literally just my face.”

”Well, it’s weird.”

And because he loves her like his own, instead of being mature and letting it go like he probably should, he narrows his eyes, stepping into the room with a menacing air about him, and tickles her relentlessly until she, gasping for breath between bursts of laughter, finally takes it back.

Ironically, they end up being a few minutes late to Satoru’s birthday dinner; Tsumiki had asked Megumi to do her hair, which was not unusual in and of itself, but tonight he went for a french braid as opposed to the simple three-section one he was inclined to - despite having only just mastered the latter during their most recent outing a week ago. Suguru gently suggested that it might be a lot to take on in just half an hour, especially given Nanako’s claim that she tried doing it on herself once and ended up having to ask Suguru to brush it out for her because of how tangled it became, but he was adamant. He did get it in the end, at least, in large part thanks to Suguru’s own knowledge surrounding hair.

“What can I say? I’m a girl dad.” He’d winked at Megumi, and Satoru laughed, running his fingers across Suguru’s effortless half-bun.

“No, you’ve gotta exclusively have girls to be a girl dad. You’re just gay.”

Suguru’s expression turned serious, and he looked over at Megumi, who looked like he found Satoru’s jab amusing but didn’t want to admit it.

”Megumi, remember what I told you the other day about microaggressions?”

“Suguruu! I’m allowed to say that!”

He snorts at the memory as they pull into the parking lot of their destination, looking out at the warm, soft-yellow bulbs that dangle below the overhang of the building and illuminate the entrance.

It’s one of his favorite restaurants, perhaps because of the way it toes the line between casual and classy, and therefore works for most any occasion. It’s where he and Suguru went to celebrate just the two of them after moving in together, but ended up just sitting across from each other with untouched plates of food in front of them, unable to keep down the giddiness that arose from the prospect of finally being together for as long as they wanted on a daily basis. Suguru eventually broke from his haze, murmuring something about how they should eat since they were here anyways, and Satoru nodded in agreement. Neither made any move to unwrap the cloth napkin folded neatly around their utensils, and they ended up taking their dinner to go and having it a day later in their new home , going out of their way to say the words over and over just to hear them, just to feel them linger in the open air - as if anybody was listening. Suguru, can you get the placemats from that drawer? Wow, doesn’t this place have so many more cabinets? Satoru, look at the view out this window. I’m glad we chose a house in such a nice spot. I wonder if the kids would like it here, Suguru. In our new home. And they’d look at each other like some secret had just passed between them, like they’d just spoken in a language unbeknownst to anybody else, and they’d grin like idiots.

“Did you guys order without us?” Satoru inquires in place of a greeting when they arrive at their booth, swinging around the table and flopping down into the seat across from Shoko, who shakes her head, smiling.

”We wanted to, but Nanami wouldn’t let us.” Utahime elaborates matter-of-factly. Yuuji, who is seated right between Nanami and his older brother and seems to be the true cause of the delay, nods emphatically.

”You’re not supposed to eat until everyone’s at the table!”

“You always have your plate wiped clean by the time I sit down.” Sukuna points out, and he shrugs noncommittally. “That’s because you always take too long. And plus, Nanamin has been teaching me about efficiency.” He pats his stomach to emphasize his point.

“He helps me out at the bakery.” Nanami looks over at Yuuji, a faint smile playing at his lips, and he nods enthusiastically.

”Yeah! He says I’m his most valuable employee.”

“All you do is smile pretty for the customers.” His brother replies, slightly bemused.

“Um, yes, which helps get people in the store! Look, would you rather get a snack from somewhere with that face staring at you through the window? Or this one?”

He gestures between Sukuna’s scowling countenance and his own comparatively angelic face, and the former rewards him with an offended glower.

“Look here now, you little brat-“

“Woah, let’s lighten the mood a little, guys!”

“That’s not how that works, Satoru.” Shoko remarks. “You can’t just talk about lightening the mood. You have to, like, actually lighten it.”

“Maybe that’s how it is for most people, but I’m different.”

“Tell him that.” She gestures to Sukuna, whose mood does not appear to have lightened in the slightest, and puts a mild amount of effort toward stifling a laugh.

Satoru sighs deeply, and then claps, an idea occurring to him. “Maybe if you get some food in you, you’ll be less grumpy?”

The rest of them murmur their agreement, but Sukuna only redirects his glare to Satoru, who levels him with a thoughtful stare.

”Down, boy.” He tries, and hears Suguru choke on his water. Fortunately for him, even Yuuji’s strong-tempered brother doesn’t seem to know what to say to that, and Haibara, clueless, nudges Nanami to ask whether he prefers the shrimp or vegetable tempura, effectively setting off new surges of conversation from each corner of the comfortably crowded booth.

Their food comes out quickly, that familiarly irresistible deep-fried aroma drifting from the kitchen in the minutes before the server herself makes it out to set their vast assortment of dishes on the table.

Suguru responds to inquiries about the quality of his meal, which he’s hardly tasted despite being a third of the way through, with quick nods and a vague smile, clearing his throat too often and stealing occasional glances at Satoru like a lovestruck teenager. He wipes his palms against the thin fabric of his pants, giving another nod when Satoru asks him a question and only registering that it may not have called for a yes-or-no answer when he receives a furrowed brow in response.

“What?”

“I was asking what time you wanted to go back to the house.”

“Oh. Sorry. Uh, maybe half an hour?”

“Okay, cool.” He turns to their friends, cupping his hands over his mouth to call out to them. “You guys have fifteen minutes to finish eating, and then we’re ordering dessert!”

Yuuji joins him in cheering, throwing his arms into the air and nearly knocking over a glass of water that Nanami rights just in time. Megumi rolls his eyes, unfolding the menu resting in front of him and burying his face in it.

Apparently curious as to what he’s so absorbed in all of a sudden, Satoru peeks over his head and catches a flash of pale pink on the page Megumi is carefully examining. He grins knowingly.

“So you’re scoping out the cakes, I see.”

“I’m looking at the mochi. That’s what you like, isn’t it?” He responds flatly, injecting a hint of annoyance into his voice so as not to sound too gentle.

“Aww! Suguru, did you hear that?”

Suguru looks over at them, a mild grin on his face. “Very sweet,” he agrees, wondering if Satoru can hear his heart pounding in his chest. They know each other so well at this point that he wouldn’t be particularly surprised.

As expected, Satoru’s eyes linger on his face, a flicker of surprise passing over his face.

“You look nervous. Don’t worry, I won’t ask you to give a speech about me or anything.”

It’s meant as a comfort, but instead it sends his pulse skyrocketing. He forces a nervous laugh.

“Right. Of course. No speeches.”

Satoru gives him a strange look and reaches over to rest his hand on Suguru’s and give it a gentle pat, not noticing- or perhaps ignoring - the clamminess of his palm. “What’s up?”

God, Satoru’s gotten so much better at communication. He’d be proud on any other day, but at the moment, having to express himself verbally sounds absolutely dreadful. It’s like he’s worried that if he uses up all his mental energy now, he’ll be lost for words when he truly needs them. Still, the feeling of Satoru’s skin on his - warm, comforting, and so familiar - calms him down, if imperceptibly. He takes a deep breath, forcing his muddled thoughts into order, and meets Satoru’s eyes with a confidence that he absolutely does not feel.

“Satoru, did you know? You can get free dessert here.”

“What? When did they tell you that?” Satoru gasps, scandalized. “Did you come here without me?!” He turns away, waving their server over frantically - presumably to haggle her about said deal - and the tension drains from Suguru’s body as he watches, his lips curving into a half smile.

The waitress stops halfway to their table, the bemusement on her face slipping into shock, and brings a hand up to her open mouth. Satoru, who’s wrapped up in gesturing to the menu that he’s just borrowed from Megumi, doesn’t notice anything amiss until the rest of their table goes quiet.

“And I was wondering about - hey, why does it always go silent when I’m talking? Guys-“

He spins around to address them, but the words catch in his throat when he registers Suguru’s absence and shifts his gaze downward. His lips part, and he releases a shaky breath.

”Oh. Oh my god.”

Suguru lifts his head from the ground, trying without success to steady his trembling hands, and offers him a crooked smile, laying an elbow on the knee that rests on the tile floor of the restaurant.

“Satoru,” he murmurs, and all the agonizing over this moment, all his attempts to memorize the perfect speech, all the hours he spent scouring his brain for the exact words he wanted to say to Satoru - it seems silly, all of a sudden. Because the feel of that name on his lips brings everything, in a dizzying rush, to the forefront of his mind. He swallows, and then he begins to speak, slowly, deliberately, his voice trembling.

”I…I’ve known since I first laid my eyes on you. I never thought… that love at first sight existed. Until I saw you in that cafe. But that wasn’t love at first sight, was it, Satoru? Even at the first glance, it was like I’d seen you a thousand times before. And…” the corner of his mouth tugs upward. “I hope to see you at least that many times more. I hope that you’ll grant me the honor of waking up next to you every morning for the rest of this life, and for the entirety of any lives that follow. I’ll treasure every second, every little happiness, Satoru. If you’ll… if you’ll marry me?”

He holds his breath, the complete silence closing in around him, the pressure suffocating. The thumping of his heart has died down to a quiet, barely discernible vibration in his chest.

And then Satoru speaks, and the restaurant explodes into the most beautiful wave of sound he’s ever heard.

“Yes. Yes, of course. God, I didn’t know I had to respond… I thought it was, like, rhetorical. H-how could I say no? Suguru! Suguru, finally!”

He gets to his feet, smiling so wide his cheeks ache, and staggers when Satoru throws his arms around his neck without warning, but quickly steadies himself and returns the warm embrace.

“I wanted to give you a speech, too!” Satoru chokes out through the tears that have begun to roll down his cheeks and onto Suguru’s shoulder, soaking through his dress shirt. Suguru nudges his nose against his neck, inhaling the slightly sweet scent of his skin, and finds himself smiling again, even as he blinks back tears of his own.

“There’s always the vows, right?”

As soon as he says the words, he almost regrets it, because Satoru immediately begins crying what seems like ten times harder. He eventually composes himself just enough to separate himself from Suguru and settle back down in his chair, beaming at each and every ‘congratulations’ and begrudging wish directed towards them.

“Shoko! Shoko, can you believe it?” He cries, raising his voice to be heard over the commotion.

Shoko nods, a mildly concerned expression on her face, and he blinks, his tone turning panicky within the space of a second.

“What? What happened?”

“Guys, you know that was…” She murmurs, her eyes flicking hesitantly from their faces to the table. After a second of reluctant deliberation, she lowers her voice to a whisper, leaning forward discreetly. “That was kind of gay.”

She and Satoru burst out laughing in perfect unison, and he reaches across the table to wrap her in a tight hug as Suguru looks on, slightly bewildered, but smiling nevertheless. They only pull apart at the soft clatter of ceramic against wood, Satoru’s wide-eyed gaze almost immediately fixing itself to the platter of cream-filled mochi now in front of him. The waitress smiles down at them graciously, dipping her head in a short bow.

”Congratulations! It’s on us.”

Suguru had made up the free dessert line on the spot, but the astonished look that Satoru rests upon him as the woman returns to the kitchen after being assaulted by words of appreciation from both he and Yuuji is so lovely, so adoring, that he doesn’t have the heart to say so.

So instead, he shakes his head, watching as Satoru asks Megumi whether he wants matcha or strawberry, then stuffs the answer (matcha) into his own mouth as Megumi looks on resignedly. “Megs! You’re supposed to get mad!” Satoru then complains, taking a replacement piece of mochi off the plate and handing it to their son, who still looks like he wouldn’t have particularly cared either way.

“So?”

Suguru tears his gaze away from the slowly darkening sky, glancing back at the children seated behind them in the minivan. Mimiko, her chin resting atop the soft head of her favorite stuffed animal, seems to understand what he’s asking before he elaborates, and turns to grin knowingly at her sisters.

“How’d I do?” He inquires, squeezing Satoru’s hand where their fingers lay intertwined on the smooth center console of the car.

“You did pretty good!” Nanako announces proudly; and he replies with all the seriousness necessary in accepting a compliment from an ever-honest child, giving her a sincerely grateful nod. His former anxiety seems so far away now- in fact, everything does.

He thinks back to his worst days, when even getting out of bed felt like a monumental task and he could barely find it in himself to go through the motions of his everyday life. When he couldn’t understand what could possibly be wanted of him, how he was supposed to search for glimmers of meaning in what seemed like an endless expanse of defeat.

It wasn’t necessarily that Satoru pulled him out of the darkness; it was more like he’d stepped just an inch closer, prodded him in the shoulder, and gestured in the distance to a speck of light that Suguru had been previously blind to. And as soon as he laid his eyes upon it, his surroundings lit up entirely, set aglow by a thousand flickers of warm, bright luminescence that dimmed and intensified in time with the rising and falling of his chest. All the little beauties of life, suddenly laid out before him. Everything was the same; everything was different.

Now, an easy smile graces his lips, and as Megumi flashes him a thumbs up and Tsumiki claps quietly, beaming in her characteristically affectionate fashion, he wonders to himself what he’s done to deserve such a life.

“Suguru?!”

They’re curled up on their couch of choice, tucked away into a far corner of the living room close enough to the fireplace that the heat emanating from the gentle flames rises straight from its enclosure and into his skin. A shiver passes through him despite the warmth, and he sits up urgently, his pulse soaring.

“I think I lost the ring!” He cries, his eyes locked on the notably empty skin of his ring finger as he searches frantically through his memory, trying to piece together everything he’s done in the short time since the proposal. But right now, he can’t even remember the color of the jewel, whether the band was silver or gold - and he certainly can’t think clearly back to those hazy, dream-like minutes immediately following the event. It all passed by so quickly, in a lustrously airbrushed sort of blur- much like those paintings turned out in the landscape lessons he led last week, which Nobara, Yuuji and Megumi recently joined in on.

“You did?” Suguru’s voice takes on an unusually panicked note as he runs his hands over the plush cushions beneath them, hoping his fingers will close around the small, polished metal of the ring, which (he prays) has only just now slipped off Satoru’s hand. He makes a mental note to exchange it for a smaller size as soon as possible.

“Shoko! The ring is gone!” Satoru cries as she and Nobara set two cups of coffee on the round oak table next to a plate of biscuits Suguru put out for their guests. She straightens up, her brow slightly furrowed.

”What?!” She exclaims, bewildered. “How-“ Her face relaxes, and a laugh that’s equally dazed and relieved escapes her lips. “Are you guys dumb? You never gave him the ring.”

“…What?” Suguru reaches into his pocket, digging out the small, navy-blue box and clicking it open with his thumb. “Ah.”

He feels Satoru’s body sag in relief at his side. “Haha. I knew it.”

“We would have made it to the wedding before you noticed.” Suguru replies, still in the process of bringing his heart rate back down to a reasonable level.

“Men.” Utahime, who has just appeared at Shoko’s side, shakes her head exasperatedly, tilting it against the other’s shoulder and relaxing into her side. Shoko grins, shooting a meaningful look at Nobara, who nods sagely, having already arrived at the same one-word conclusion all on her own in spite of her age. Men.

“Thanks for your help the other day, guys.” Suguru adds.

His original plan had been to keep his intentions to himself; Satoru could be unnervingly perceptive, and so he wanted to steer clear of anything that might ruin the surprise, but he’d been such a mess in the days leading up to Satoru’s birthday that he ended up spilling everything to Shoko and Utahime in hopes that they might be able to offer him some advice. Their answers were sound: Keep it simple. Don’t plan it out too much; all that stuff will go to hell when it’s finally time, anyway. Tell him exactly what you’re feeling. And make it quick, okay? We don’t want to sit through too much sappiness. (The last one was Utahime).

“No problem. You know I’ve been on board since day one.”

A faint flush comes over Suguru’s face as he recalls that day at the gallery and the words Shoko whispered in his ear that left him frozen to his spot in the center of the nearly-empty building, shock and disbelief coursing through him.

“Why don’t you try for that kiss now?”

As it turned out, he would take her advice just a couple days later.

“How’d you know it was because of… that?” He asks carefully, clearing his throat and hoping Satoru won’t inquire as to the cause of his sudden embarrassment.

“Oh, please. Wasn’t it, like, a week later that you guys got together?”

“Well, I suppose…”

“Guys! It’s snowing!”

Yuuji waves exaggeratedly at them from the window, his small hands pressed up against the frosted glass, and nudges Megumi at his side in case he didn’t hear his initial cry of delight. Nobara hurries over to see, her eyes bright with delight, and tells Yuuji to move back a little because he’s apparently ruining the aesthetic by smushing his face against the glass. Nanami sips from his mug of coffee, leaning his elbows on the kitchen island and watching contently as Yuuji and Nobara shove each other back and forth until Megumi gets sick of being jostled in the crossfire and plants himself firmly between them. Suguru shakes his head.

“The first snow. It’s late this year.” He murmurs, the coolness of metal against his palm reminding him of the ring in his hand. He wraps his fingers around Satoru’s wrist, taking a moment to admire their delicate beauty like he doesn’t already know every crevice of his palm, couldn’t map out each individual joint of his fingers. Then, he slides the silver band down his ring finger, marveling at how smoothly it goes on. Satoru slowly turns his hand over, admiring the jewel.

”Pretty. You chose perfectly, Suguru.”

He thinks so, too; it’s a slim-bodied ring, subtly lovely, with a small circular indent carved out at the top that houses two interconnected jewels- opal and onyx, the display said. He had the inside engraved, too, but he decides to wait for Satoru to discover that detail for himself. His eyes travel to the tree next to the fireplace, still faintly smelling of pine and glittering with yellow-white lights. The gifts piled at its base vary in shape and neatness of packaging; the messiest are the ones wrapped by the children and Satoru, with a sizable amount from today alone- he was adamant about receiving separate gifts for his birthday and the holidays.

“I love you.” He says quietly in lieu of a reply, the words almost unconscious with how little effort it takes them to leave his lips.

”S-Suguru! I.. would sure hope so, after you did all this.”

“I just wanted to tell you. Again.”

A moment of silence, and then Satoru leans over and presses his lips to Suguru’s, soft and warm and tasting of sweet cream and matcha.

“I love you too,” he says within the second he pulls away, like he couldn’t get the words out quickly enough. Like he’d overflow with the intensity of his emotions if he kept them in for a moment longer. It’s an eagerness that brings yet another gentle smile to Suguru’s lips, and they gaze at each other for a second longer, giddy on the beauty of the evening.

“Wait ‘til after the honeymoon to start acting like newlyweds, will you?”

Shoko suggests as she pulls a board game out of some closet Satoru didn’t know they had and the twins crowd her in their excitement.

“That’s too predictable. We should’ve started before we were even dating.” Satoru replies regretfully, and Suguru casts him an odd look.

”How would that even work?”

Satoru leans forward to pick his drink up off the table, its warmth impossibly permeating in a way that would soothe him from the inside out if he weren’t already so content in his spot next to Suguru on the couch.

“I’d… have to think about that.” He replies, tilting the mug upward and allowing some of the smooth liquid to flow into his mouth- and then nearly spitting it out the second it hits his tongue. He coughs into his elbow, the dark bitterness of the drink taking him by surprise.

“This isn’t hot chocolate?”

“Hot chocolate isn’t as good with cake.” Nanami explains, and then Satoru remembers the blue-and-white birthday cake sitting patiently on the counter and nods suspiciously- though he’d personally beg to differ. The word ‘cake’ steals the attention of every previously occupied child in that room except Megumi (who follows Yuuji and Nobara anyway), and Satoru barely suppresses the urge to get caught up in the excitement and rush to the counter himself. He turns to look at Suguru, who meets his gaze immediately, and a rush of affection flows through him.

He hasn’t had any more of those nightmares since that day at the lake. The existing memories of what he likes to think of as their past life have slipped to the very back of his consciousness, causing him not the slightest bit of trouble on most days unless he opts to rifle through them himself. And… they were nice, those little inklings of knowledge that he possessed about Suguru without having personally discovered them, but he much prefers how it feels to collect them himself amid the days they spend together.

What Satoru knows about him now is not something that can be given to someone in bits and scattered pieces; it’s a complete view, he thinks, an accumulation of hours spent by his side, of nights during which the sound of Suguru’s slow, even breathing lulls him to sleep.

His hand tightens around the mug of coffee as Suguru smiles at him, his eyes flashing with amusement. He gestures to the drink with a gentle incline of his head.

“Just like you remember?” He inquires, and Satoru’s heart stutters in his chest. He tries to convince himself that the question is about the coffee, regarding which he doesn’t think he’ll be changing his mind anytime soon, but something about the knowing look in Suguru’s eyes makes him think it’s far more than that. The snow continues falling steadily outside the window, painting their yard white; the fireplace flickers with warmth, a fiery blend of oranges and yellows; having collected around the cake, their friends call out to them, waving Satoru over so that he can blow out the candles and then they can tease him about how he must be the only person in the world who genuinely enjoys standing there while people sing ‘happy birthday’ to him.

He pauses, holding on to the moment and secretly hoping it stretches out beyond him forever, an infinitely wondrous thread of existence.

“No. Better, actually,” he whispers, a smile tracing his lips. “So much better.”

the end :)

#satosugu #jjk #ao3 fanfic #archive of our own #coffee shop au #fanfiction #alternate universe #geto suguru #gojo satoru #crying screaming throwing up #it's finally over??#thank you so much for reading #ilysm <3 #this was such a joy to write

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