Chapter Text
“Hey, do I smell like cigarettes?”
The random question causes Satoru to snap out of his daze, still not used to being up at eight in the morning just yet. It causes him to yank his earbuds out as he turns to the voice he barely heard over his music, “Excuse me?”
“Smoke,” A girl with a blunt brown bob asks him again, “Do I smell like cigarette smoke.”
“Oh.” He replies as he awkwardly shifts in his seat, sitting up before he leans to take a sniff, “Not from what I can smell.” He tries to reassure her, she sprays herself – with what Satrou can only assume is strawberry perfume – before plopping her backpack on the desk.
“Good, I forgot my perfume at home and only have this strawberry scented hand sanitizer. Hopefully it kills all the chemicals.” She happily says as she throws the small sanitizer back in her bag, before pulling the chair next to Satoru out from under the desk it was tucked away in.
Satoru gives her a small smile, before focusing his attention to the front of the lecture hall as their professor walks in, bowing as he makes his way to the podium before the class.
Satoru watches as the older man grabs a dry erase marker from the board, “Welcome to Calculus I, My name is Professor…”
“Hey, do you have any gum?” The girl whispers next to him as the professor introduces himself to the class.
“Um, I think I do.” He leans to his left, lifting his backpack from where it rested, opening the small compartment where he keeps his daily essentials. Lip balm, gum, his wallet, and phone charger. “Here.” He smiles, handing her a spearmint flavored piece.
“Thanks, I’m Shoko by the way.”
He returns her smile,“Gojo, Gojo Satoru,” his eyes reverting back to the professor who was now going over the syllabus.
“What are you majoring in?” She asks as she balls up the aluminum gum wrapper.
“Applied Mathematics with a minor in Data Science. You?”
“Oh gross,” She quietly giggles, “Nursing major. Not that far behind you.”
“Yeah.” He agrees as he shifts in his seat. “Freshman?”
“Yeah, you?”
He adjusts the frames on his face, “Yeah.”
“Nice.” She doesn't ask him another question for the remainder of class, and Satoru is glad. He’s aware that he should make some friends since it was his freshman year, and his teammates on the school’s basketball team isn’t enough to count, but he’s awkward and extremely shy that he can barely get the words he wants to say to even form in his head. He’s not sure why talking to Shoko was easy.
That was two years ago, and Shoko had made sure he grew more comfortable around others and more confident in himself, in exchange for free tutoring services for her math and chemistry classes.
Now she’s drilling him about his ‘poor’ fashion taste for the club, that Satoru has no interest in going to, but according to Shoko – Satoru is ‘a loser homeboy who spends his best college years cooped up in his apartment instead of going out and having fun.’
In Satrou’s defense, Shoko and him have different definitions of going out and having fun. Satrou likes chill nights, calm kickbacks at Nanami’s or Shoko’s, drinking beer and eating greasy fried chicken while they play card games or talk about how much they hate their professors and the amount of work they assign. Shoko’s version of going out and having fun is them all – Shoko, Satoru, Kento and Ichiji – completely blasted off their asses thanks to Shoko’s heavy handed pouring (Satrou knows she does it on purpose) and they’re all drunk before they even leave Shoko’s.
Satoru’s not sure how Shoko can go all the way out nearly every weekend and still be fine for her early morning classes on Monday, Satoru spends all his Sunday’s nursing himself back to life wondering how he was going to tell Shoko no next time she asks the group chat if any of them were down for going out. Maybe he should start blocking her every Friday morning and unblock her Monday morning. Maybe.
“Satoru, what the hell are you wearing?” Shoko asks him in a disgusted tone.
“A t-shirt and jeans…?” He answers back, confused on why she’s giving him a scrunched up face.
She deadpans him, “Jeans? You’re wearing jeans to the club?”
“What’s so wrong with jeans to the club?”
“First of all, you’re wearing light washed skinny jeans with a basic white crewneck, it’s not twenty sixteen, have I not taught you better?”
“You have but I want to wear this.” He pouts, taking a look at the mirror hanging on his bedroom door.
“No. Go get that black long sleeved compression shirt you have.”
“That’s for working out.”
“To you, go put that on and a pair of black pants. Not skinny jeans, go find those cargo pants we thrifted a few days ago.”
“Those are for-”
She gives him one of her, don’t make me say it again, looks and he walks back to his closet shaking his head in defeat. He shuffles through the hangers, trying his best to remember which jeans would be approved, but his hands settle on a pair of loose fit black cargo pants. He turns and opens the bottom drawer where he keeps all his athletic clothes before he quickly removes his jeans and shirt, replacing them with the new all black outfit, hoping Shoko only has positive things to say.
“Where’s your jewelry?" She immediately asks when he comes back to the camera. “A ring? Necklace? Anything.”
He lets out a dramatic sigh as he walks back to his closet, opening a drawer and fishes out three silver rings and two bracelets, David Yurman his mother had gifted him last christmas. Satoru can’t lie, sometimes Shoko’s nagging makes him grateful that he’s an only child.
“There we go, now you look fuckable.” Shoko smirks, nodding her head in approval.
“Shoko.” Satoru whines, why does he even bother being friends with her.
“Satrou, I’m doing all this for you. It's been what? Ten months since the last time you’ve been laid?”
“Please don't remind me.” He whines again.
She shakes her head, “I don't know how you do it,” Satoru can hear the flicker of her lighter, “I would have started hearing colors and tasting sounds if I was you.”
“Youre so dramatic.” He chuckles, shaking his head as he grabs his phone from his desk that’s propped against his textbooks, before turning to grab his Varsity Basketball jacket that was hanging from his chair.
“Do not wear that damn jacket, it’s not even basketball season yet.” Shoko groans.
“I know that? I just like it.”
“A little too much, go get a windbreaker or something.”
“Yes, Mom.” Satoru rolls his eyes as he throws the varsity jacket on his bed, grabbing a black windbreaker instead from the back of his closet. “Does this work with you, miss fashion killa?” He teasingly asks as he sets his phone back on his desk, leaning it against his textbooks once again.
“Perfect! Now you also look good enough to party with me.” She beams.
Satoru playfully rolls his eyes as he grabs his phone, “Do you harass Kento and Ichiji like this?” He asks as he makes his way to his bathroom.
“No, because they both have some sense in them. You, on the other hand,” She points at him through the phone, “are my biggest project.” She says as he stares at himself in the mirror, he has to agree with Shoko, he does look better than the mess he dressed himself up in before he called her.
“How should I do my hair?” He asks as he grabs hair pomade from under the sink.
“To the side, you just got a haircut, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Then show that off.” She suggests.
Satoru grabs his bristle brush from the top drawer, wetting his hands in the sink before raking them through his white locks, making sure each strand flows the same way. He makes sure to only put a dime size amount of pomade in his hair, fixing any fly aways before showing Shoko. A stamp of approval later, Satoru is finally ready to leave.
“Is that Dior Sauvage?" Shoko asks in disgust as he sprays cologne.
“No, this is Spice Bomb by Viktor&Rolf.” Satoru scoffs, he may not be the most fashionable person around but he’s on twitter to understand the joke.
“Okay let me know when you’re here. I’ll finish getting ready.”
“See you.” He says before she hangs up, he stuffs his phone into the right pocket of his pants as he briskly walks towards his kitchen. He grabs his keys from the bowl he keeps them in, snaking his arms through the sleeves of his windbreaker before opening the closet by his apartment front door, grabbing his all black Nike 95s before slipping his feet in and closing the closet door behind him. He turns off the lights as he opens the door, allowing it to softly close behind him before locking it.
He quickly decides to take the stairs down from the fourth floor he lives on, and exits by the alleyway. He turns onto the main street and makes his way to Shoko’s dormitory that is a fifteen minute walk from his apartment. Campus is buzzing with life, students either excited to begin their night out or calling it a day as they head back to their respective homes. Walking along Kanda River, Satoru takes in the sunset as it bleeds from day to night, noticing deep oranges becoming dark red over the Shinjuku skyline.
Satoru hears Shoko before he sees her, boosted bass echoing through the seventh floor of the all female dorm, Satoru is surprised the RA hasn’t kicked down her door yet. Three heavy knocks land on her door before he decides to call her instead, he can hear the music pause as his call goes through, earning a couple curse words from said girl.
“Hello!” She yells into Satoru’s ear, who winces at the sudden change in decibel.
“Open the door.”
Shoko ends the call without responding, and the music comes back on, the sudden beat drop causing Satoru’s heart to nearly come out his throat. A few seconds later, Shoko’s dorm door swings ajar and Satoru is face to face with Nanami Kento.
Kento and him became friends after barely surviving a treacherous semester taking Probability Theory with perhaps the worst professor on campus. Satoru soon learned that Kento was just like him, quiet and to himself, the only difference is Kento is as social as he was when Satoru first met him while Satoru has grown a bit thanks to Shoko’s training.
“Beat me here, I see.” Satoru jokes as he extends his hand out, Nanami returns the handshake before letting him into the dorm.
“I had to bring her her special bottle.” Kento sighs, Satoru already knows how this night will transpire.
Espolòn Pure White Agave Tequila.
Shoko’s number one weapon in her artillery (bar cart).
One of these days, Satoru desperately needs to learn how to say no to Shoko, no matter what antics she pulls out from up her sleeve. Someone desperately needs to, unfortunately, humble her just a little bit.
It won’t be him, though. He can’t say no to her and neither can Kento, forget about Ichiji.
And that’s how they all find themselves crammed in the kitchen of her dorm room apartment on campus, bracing themselves as she fills shot glasses to the tip with tequila. Again.
“Soju wasn’t a choice?” Ichiji pouts.
“That’s for freshmen who don’t have fake I.D. 's,” she scoffs at Ichiji’s question, “We drink like grown adults.” She slurs as she raises her shot glass. Oh boy, Satoru thinks to himself as he takes the shot glass from Kento’s hand, downing it in one swift movement as Shoko had taught him the first year they met. The liquor burns his insides raw. It doesn’t matter how many times Satoru drinks, he can never get used to the way his insides burn as the alcohol makes its way to his stomach – and into his bloodstreams.
He’s not necessarily a lightweight, but he knows that five tequila shots is his capacity if he wants to be tipsy and in a good mood, any more than that and he’ll probably be passed in the bushes again with Shoko taking embarrassing pictures of him, only to laugh about it when she sends them to him the next morning.
The second shot is already poured by the time Satoru’s body finally adjusts to the poison that’s beginning to invade his body, he grimaces as he holds the tequila shot to his lips, his nose scrunching as the fumes overtakes his senses. Kento and him make eye contact, share a mutual understanding before they toss their heads back and take their shots together, both groaning as Shoko pours their third shot.
Satoru is still grimacing as he notices Ichiji is still nursing his first shot.
“I don’t know how you guys do this.” He says, pushing his glasses up his nose as he looks at his shot of tequila with absolute disgust.
“Oh, don’t be a baby.” Shoko teases him, patting his back.
“I’m not a baby.” He mumbles as he walks to the dishwasher, pulling out a glass cup before pouring his shot in, heading to the fridge to pull out a carton of orange juice, “I cannot poison my body like you do.” He says to Shoko.
Shoko shrugs in response, “More for me.”
After three more shots, they’re spilling out of Shoko's dorm, their clumsy feet not knowing where to plant themselves as they make their way to the elevator. Satoru works so hard to stifle his laugh as Shoko barely hangs onto Ichiji, who’s visibly a bit uncomfortable with her sudden touch, Kento is facing a corner and Satoru knows he’s also trying not to laugh.
“Get a hold of yourselves.” Kento jokes, damn near giggling as they enter the elevator, it’s mostly directed to both Shoko and Ichiji.
“I’m trying, not everyone can hold their alcohol like you can Ken.” Shoko giggles back.
“Which club are we going to?” Satoru checks in.
“Club Tokyo!” Shoko excitedly responds.
Club Tokyo.
Shoko’s favorite club that’s located in Shinjuku. They have frequented there so many times since she discovered it that they’re all on first name bases with the bouncers, who only laugh when they see Shoko’s entourage line up.
“I think we should take a cab.” Ichiji suggests as all three of the men watch Shoko giggle to herself once they are outside.
“Yeah, I’ll get it.” Satoru says, stepping out onto the street, waving down a yellow cab, waiting for the vehicle to pull in before opening the backdoor, “I’ll take the front.”
“Thank you, Satoru.” Shoko sings as she slides into the backseat after Kento. “Satoru, you’re buying my drink tonight right?” She asks, which Satoru doesn’t understand because he always buys her drinks. It’s either him or Kento who pull out their wallets after Shoko had run her tab up, they can only pray she wasn’t drunk enough to buy random girls she met in the bathroom enough shots it could cause Satoru to go bankrupt.
The ride to Shinjuku is busy on the streets but silent in the cab, nothing but early two thousand American R&B hits play softly on the radio, they’re all preparing for the night ahead of them. The driver safely delivers them to the club address and Satoru hands him crisp yen notes as the other three exit the cab, following suit as he thanks the man. The line to Club Tokyo nearly wraps around the corner, the usual mixture of Japanese and foreigner partygoers anxiously waiting for the bouncers to speed the process up. They barely have any time to react to Shoko walking up to the bouncer and they already know she’s on a mission to get them in, quickly and for free.
And she does, as she always does.
They make their way in as protests from those who have been waiting longer begin to fill the air, stepping into the dimly lit club Satoru braces himself. The vibrations of the heavy bass travels through Satoru’s body, starting from his feet to the top of his head, his brain feels like it’s rattling in his skull. He has his hands on Shoko’s shoulders as she wastes no time making her way straight to the bar, Satoru begins to wonder how such a small frame as hers can handle all the liquor she downs.
The drinks here are poured from a heavier hand than Shoko’s, it only takes one tequila soda for Satoru to really feel it, he knows he’s reached his sweet spot when his head begins to absentmindedly nod to the music blasting. The DJ that plays every Friday and Saturday night has the most variety in music taste Satoru has ever met. He seamlessly switches from EDM to Hip Hop and even Brazilian funk, and Satoru can’t help but laugh at the party goers on the dance floor who let out approved yells at every perfect transition.
He sways to the music as his eyes scan the club, taking in the busy bodies before him as his body loosens further, every movement feels like dripping honey. Push 2 Start by Tyla begins to play, Satoru watches about ten people rush to the dancefloor as the song reaches its chorus and Satoru’s eyes can’t help but land on a particular person.
Long raven hair that slightly curls at the end, he’s dressed in what looks like a crop top and distressed jeans – see Shoko, people do wear jeans to the club – and Satoru notices the fishnets he’s wearing. He has piercings on nose, eye lip, and ears that shine every time the strobe lights hit the perfect angle. Satoru can't help but watch as his body reacts to the music, grinding perfectly to the song as he perfectly executes the choreography.
“What are you looking at?”
“Jesus Christ.” He damn near yelps, absolutely taken back by Shoko’s sudden appearance.
“Who are we staring at?” She yells over the music, standing on her tippy toes as she tries to pinpoint who had Satoru in such a trance.
“Nothing, no one.” He tries to dismiss her, bringing his cup to his lips, only to drink melted ice water.
“Wait, the one with long black hair? Cute.” She beams up at him, Satoru immediately notices a glint of mischief in her eyes.
“Don’t even try it.” He warns her, already aware of what was circuiting in that pretty little head of hers.
“You never know, you got to put yourself out there!” She yells at him, her drink spilling from her cup, “You got to get laid, like pronto.”
Satoru shakes his head as he places his cup on the bar, giving the bartender a small smile as she trashes it for him.
“Go do something with yourself.” He tells her, but she’s already on her way. He decides to try to find Kento and Ichiji, who are both probably standing in a corner waiting for Satoru to save them just as he once stood waiting for Shoko during their early days. Oh, how times have changed.
He finally spots them in the very back of the club, where Ichiji is nose deep in his phone and Kento is just standing next to him as if he’s waiting for Shoko or Satoru to call it a night.
“Excuse me.” He tries to yell as he begins to make his way to them, the size of the crowd seems to grow as he tries his best to not step on any toes especially of the girls who were wearing open toed heels. He once accidentally stepped on Shoko’s and she made sure he felt the kick she landed on the side of his calf for a week.
“Sorry.” He apologies as he bumps into somebody.
“Oh, sorry!” They responded back, turning to look up at Satoru, whose breath hitches as violet eyes look into his blue ones.
“Sorry.” He quickly says as he rushes himself forward and away from the raven haired man he was gawking at just minutes before. His heart is beating in his ears when he finally makes it to where Kento and Ichiji were hiding.
He gives them a thumbs up, “Good?” He asks them.
“Yeah.” Kento responds over the music, and Ichiji just nods his head.
“Good.” He huffs, before taking a few deep breaths – he’s really feeling the alcohol now.
The three of them spend the rest of the night staying put in their corner, waiting for Shoko to call it a night, but Satoru cannot help but watch the violet-eyed man dance throughout the night – his body swaying and becoming one with the melodies playing through the overhead speakers.
Is this creepy? Satoru drunkenly asks himself.
Nah, he’s just enjoying his night out. There’s no harm in looking, plus he has no plans of approaching.
ـــــــــــــــــــــــﮩ٨ـ
Satoru likes problems with clear parameters.
Inputs, outputs, a solution that proved itself whether he wanted it to or not. What he doesn’t like –what he avoids whenever possible– are variables introduced without warning. Especially the kind that he watches from across a crowded room and refuses to stay theoretical.
Satoru’s not sure when his obsession started – well he wouldn’t call it an obsession, he’d probably categorize it as more of a schoolgirl crush. Still, he can't help but wonder how he found himself– once again – deep in thought in the middle of the club. Between counting beats between bass drops and mapping exit plans just in case he needs some fresh air, his brain can’t help the urges of tracking one person he hadn’t meant to notice the first time and now won’t stop watching.
Hues of blue and purple lights reflect off the lip piercing of Satoru’s point of focus, noticing how the other man’s tongue will occasionally swipe over the silver piece of jewelry, which disappears ever so often as he presses his lips together. He, Geto Suguru, Satoru’s club crush – according to Shoko, who was the one who learned his name – has become the center of Satoru’s attention for the last three weekends they’ve gone to Club Tokyo. It started off as a spark of interest that has now become borderline stalkerish but in Satoru’s defence, he cannot help but watch how Suguru moves his body on the dancefloor. Satrou just loves how free he looks when he’s dancing, it causes Satoru to wonder how it feels to be so free. This time they’re – the usual crew of Shoko, Kento, Ichiji and himself – at Rainbow Room. And just to Satoru’s luck, so is Suguru.
“Satoru!” A voice yells over the music, breaking him out of his daze, “We’re going out for a smoke, wanna come?” Shoko informs him, digging in her small purse for her lighter and carton of cigarettes. Satoru gives her a firm shake and a small smile as she and a long haired girl head toward one of the club exits.
Now that Satoru thinks about it, this crush is actually Shoko’s fault.
She's the one who dragged him out of his comfortable apartment a few Saturdays ago, dragging Satoru, Nanami – even Ichiji – to an underground club she came across on Instagram. “It’ll be fun,” She smiled as she pushed them through the heavy warehouse doors, knowing she was getting a kick out of this and would be the only one who would actually enjoy any of this. Satoru, Nanami and Ichiji were eventually huddled together in the corner of the club like a lost crèche waiting for their mother to come back with the promise of food as they always were.
Satoru watches as the dance floor begins to fill as the music transitions from House to Afrobeats, “I need to go to the bathroom,” He yells to the other two awkward men, both nodding as Satoru begins to make his way to the restroom. The club is relatively busy tonight, plenty of college students – underage ones also in the mix – were going all out thanks to the looming doom of midterms gearing to destroy them in a couple weeks.
“Excuse me.” He shouts, doing his best to not bump into any shoulders or step on any toes, he’s tall enough for people to see him but he’s had his fair share of drunk people walking right into him. The crowd begins to part before a particular someone is standing in front of him – a little too close for his comfort. “Fuck.” He mutters to himself.
Well manicured fingers begin to wrap around his bicep, giving him a slight squeeze, “Wanna dance?” They ask against his ear.
Oh fuck
Suguru Geto.
Satoru doesn’t have enough time to truly comprehend what was happening before he finds his hips swaying against Suguru’s, his hand somehow resting on Suguru’s lower back – this has to be the effect of whatever concoction Shoko curated in her apartment kitchen – all that pregaming must be getting to him now.
But, the thing is, Satoru has to pee. Really bad.
This is so fucking embarrassing, he thinks to himself as he tries to avoid Suguru’s eyes. His face and neck must be flushed a deep red and he hopes it’s dark enough that it goes unnoticed, he hopes Suguru thinks his cheeks are burning because of the alcohol and not because of his silly little crush.
He leans down to Suguru’s right ear, “I’m so sorry but I have to go.” He awkwardly tells Suguru, who gives him a small smirk.
“So soon?” Suguru teases, squeezing both of Satoru’s biceps. Satoru swears his dick twitches in his pants because of how bad he needs to pee – nothing more.
“Unfortunately.” He slightly pouts as he removes himself from Suguru’s embrace,he takes notice of Suguru’s hands sliding down his toned arms, before he awkwardly walks to the bathroom.
He needs to pee and probably needs to never show his face ever again. “God.” He huffs as he finally relives himself, his head tossed back as he empties himself – the amount of alcohol consumption that is done on a night out at Shoko’s could raise eyebrows from those who don’t wish to go through alcohol poisoning. He makes a mental note to remind himself that he needs to pregame before the pregame because, at this rate, he probably won’t make it to the main event.
Ripping off a piece of toilet paper, he cleans himself before quickly zipping his jeans back up, using his shoe to flush the urinal which causes him to lose balance. He quickly collects himself before he walks to the sink, quickly washes his hands as he takes a good look at himself in the mirror, the rush of warm water slightly grounding him as he checks himself out. He looks insane. Kind-of. His cheeks are apple red, hair pomade is beginning to melt, mixing with beads of sweat resulting in a thin layer that shines on his hairline. He slowly runs his hands through his powder white hair, palms pressing against his undercut as he attempts to flatten fly aways – he needs a haircut soon.
“Get a grip.” He whispers to himself, his hands gripping the sink, his head is beginning to spin now. Perhaps he pregamed a bit harder than usual at Shoko’s, a weak attempt to boost his morale to talk to Suguru, but clearly the Universe had a plan of her own. He splashes his face with cold water before waving his hand under the paper towel dispenser, ripping a sheet to press against his face. Can he even go out there and face Suguru? Honestly, he’d rather die.
“Okay.” He breathes out after drying his hands, taking one final look in the mirror. His compression shirt hugs his chest nicely, chiseled abs for view and his black jeans aren’t as tight as they were a few moments ago– his new whoring outfit Shoko calls it. He laughs to himself as he remembers her comment before turning around, he gives an awkward smile to the others who were waiting to use the urinals as he leaves, roaring music filling his ears once again, the vibrations of the heavy bass make his teeth chatter.
He stops for a second and scopes the dance floor, eyes failing to make contact with a certain violet pair.
Missed my damn chance, he thinks to himself as he struggles to make his way back to where he left Kento and Ichiji, did more people arrive while he was gone? He finds them in the same state of awkwardness as he left them.
“Do you guys want more drinks?” He asks. Ichiji shakes his head as he looks towards Nanami.
“I would like to leave, if both of you are ready.” The blonde haired man responds.
“Yeah, I’m about ready to go.” Satoru agrees as he grabs his jacket from the couch he placed it on,soon following Kento to an exit door, heading up concrete steps before all three pour into an alleyway.
A familiar voice welcomes them as they head to the main street, “You guys are done already?" Shoko whines as she detaches from the side of the same girl she left the club with moments ago, before pulling a fresh cigarette from her pack.
“I got some assignments I need to begin tomorrow morning.” Kento sighs as they make their way towards her, clearly ready to go back to the dorm he and Ichiji share.
The sound of Shoko’s lighter being flicked open fills the space between them, “Tomorrow's Sunday?” she asks as she lights her cigarette, cocking her head to the side as she takes a long drag.
Kento places his hand on her head, “Some of us like to be ahead of things. Not everyone can cram the night before like you can.” He smiles as he checks his watch, “The train should still be running, I’ll be heading out now.” He lets the group know as he turns to Ichiji.
“Same, I need to prepare for the week as well. Y’all have a good night and be safe, especially you two.” Ichiji points at Shoko and Satoru, who give him toothy grins in return.
“You know it.” Satoru reassures him, rubbing the back of his head – he’s had his fair share of embarrassing drunk nights that both Kento and Ichiji weren’t fans of – yet Shoko always gets away with it.
“Next time, no one's going home before four.” Shoko sternly says, it sounds more like a promise than a threat and they all know she’ll uphold it.
“We’ll see about that.” Kento chuckles before he and Ichiji head down the street towards the train station.
“So what are you going to do? Any luck with your purple eyed beauty?” Shoko smirks as she pulls her cigarette from her lips, laying her head on the shoulders of the purplish-black haired girl – who for some reason is mean mugging him.
“Don’t call him that, and sort of? We somehow ended up dancing together for a couple seconds.”
“Seconds?”
His eyes immediately fell on the floor, embarrassed, “I had to pee.”
“Satoru, you are not real.” Shoko hollers, the girl beside her lets out a snicker.
“I wasn’t expecting it, okay? It literally happened so fast, I don’t even know how he found me.”
“Well,” The black haired girl says as she struggles to stifle her giggles, “You are like, seven feet tall with white hair and bright blue eyes, you’re kind of hard to miss.”
“I’m six three actually.” Satoru scoffs.
“Same difference.”
Who is this? His eyes say to Shoko’s, he’s trying his best to not be rude.
“Sure.” He says as he checks his pockets, ensuring his keys and wallet were still on him. “Should we go?”
Shoko flicks her cigarette butt to the ground, “You can, I’m sleeping at Utahime’s tonight.”
“You girls have fun,” Satoru smirks as he pulls his phone out his pocket, noticing a missed call from his mom, “I’ll be heading back, I can walk with you guys to the station.” He offers.
“Unlike you, I can hang til four.” Shoko smiles up at him.
“That is true, call me if you need anything. Nice meeting you, Utahime.” He offers her a small smile before turning on his heel, waving goodbye to the duo as he makes his way down to the station.
A splendid early summer breeze passes by as he maneuvers through partygoers heading to the next club on their list. Shinjuku buzzes with college students and average people alike as the night continues to roll on, promising an exciting night for those who are strong enough to hang.
Satoru has accompanied Shoko to enough parties his first two years in college, forcing him to ‘come out his shell’ by throwing him in random dance circles and conversations with seniors he’s never met before. He can’t help but fondly smile as memories of their early college days begin to rush in.
He turns the corner once he reaches the main street, watches in disgust as a cab door opens and some poor kid pours all the contents of his stomach onto the street. That would’ve been Satoru if he stayed longer with Shoko, it used to be him all the time. He picks up his pace as he crosses the street, continuing his way to the station before he sees a familiar face. Why him, why right now? He thinks to himself.
Suguru’s leaning against, what looks like a black Kawasaki , that is parked outside the 7/11, it looks like a Vulcan 1700 Vaquero cruiser model.
Suguru catches Satoru staring, a smug smile slowly forms on his face as Satoru steps closer to the crosswalk in front of him.
“Didn’t like dancing?” He asks Satoru once he was an earshot away, turning his face to spit on the ground behind him, cigarette smoke disappearing into the summer night.
“No, I did. I just had to take care of something.” Satoru awkwardly explains, the hairs on his arms standing — probably because he forgot his jacket at Shoko’s — not for no other reason.
Suguru cocks his eyebrow, “In the bathroom?”
The tip of Satoru’s ears slowly begin to turn red, “I wasn’t lying, I really had to pee,” He tries to save himself but God this is so embarrassing, he should've stayed in the club with Shoko and Utahime.
“Just joking, what’s your name?” He asks him, flicking his cigarette to the ground, using the heel of his boot to grind it against the concrete.
“Gojo, Gojo Satoru.”
“And what is your major, Satoru?” He purrs as he leans against the motorcycle, flicking his long black hair over his shoulder before his violet eyes look up at Satoru.
The air around Satoru begins to thicken as he answers his question, “Applied Mathematics with a minor in Data Science. You?” Satoru clears his throat.
“Ooh, smart cookie, aren’t you? Music Theory & Composition with a minor in Sociology.” He smiles. God – Satoru has never seen a sweeter smile.
“Not really, it’s just something I’m good at I guess. Music Theory?” He awkwardly laughs, his eyes avoiding Suguru’s instead focusing on his shoes.
“Yup, it helps me with my musical career, plus I’d like to be an A&R after all this college shit.” Suguru chuckles.
“That’s really cool, are you in a band?”
“You didn’t know? Given how much you stare at me in the club, I would’ve guessed you'd know at least this much.”
Busted.
Satoru is absolutely busted.
It seems as if Suguru could see how Satoru is frozen with embarrassment, “Don’t worry, I don’t mind. Plus, you're not the only one looking.” He winks, shifting his weight onto his other foot, the motorcycle slightly rocking due to the movement.
“Yeah, I bet.” He can’t look at the other man, his face feels hot and his hands are beginning to get clammy. He really wishes he stayed in the club.
“Are you headed back to campus? I would offer you a ride but this isn’t my bike.” Is Suguru pouting?
Satoru finally turns back to him,“Who’s -”
The convenience doors open before Satoru is able to get his question out, the familiar jingle filling the summer air, “They didn’t have the pack you wanted.”
Satoru looks to his left, where a tall pink haired man stands, massive in size – there’s no way he’s a student at their university. “Who are you?”
“Gojo Satoru.” He says without a second thought. Was this Suguru’s…
“Oh, cool. Ryoumen Sukuna, nice to meet you. You guys go to school together?” He asks as he uses his teeth to rip open a bag of candy, shaking the gummies in his hand before popping them into his mouth. Satoru can’t help but notice the intricate design of his tattoos that seem to travel from his neck to his back and core.
“Kind of, we don’t have any classes together.” He responds as Sukuna walks towards Suguru.
“Well, how do you know each other?” He asks him as he places the key in the ignition, the motorcycle roars to life as Satoru tries to find a good enough answer.
Suguru saves him from the embarrassment, “How do we know each other, Satoru?” or so he thought. The dark haired man must be getting a kick out of this right now, Satoru just knows it.
“Um, just in passing.” It’s a lie but a white lie, he technically knows Suguru in passing. In the club. After staring at him for however long Satoru does. “Do you go to our school? I’ve never seen you before.” He quickly tries to change the subject, trying his hardest to ignore the playful smirk stretched across Suguru’s lips.
“Oh no, thank you for thinking I do,” Sukuna laughs, amused by Satoru’s question, “I graduated from Tokyo University years ago, I’m twenty nine.”
“Oh, that’s great. Sorry, but I really got to go, busy day tomorrow.” He awkwardly laughs.
“Great meeting you.” Sukuna offers as he grabs his helmet from his motorcycle's handle before handing Suguru what must be his.
“Yeah, see you around Satoru. Get home safely.” Suguru smiles at him as he puts on his helmet, turning around to swing one of his long legs over the two wheeler. Satoru cannot help but watch how his ass snuggles into the backseat.
“Yeah,” Satoru swallows, “See you around.”
He needs to get the hell out of here, he thinks to himself as he watches the motorcycle disappear into the Shinjuku traffic.