Work Text:
Guilt is a strange, context-dependent word. Guilt is the consequence of failing to do something that should have been done, or doing something that should not have been done.
It is felt when you break off your daily diet and you mutter “I should have been more disciplined” after doing the deed; when you shout at your mom angrily and hours later you eat her home-cooked meal at the dinner table your dad prepared; when you accidentally lose something someone trusted you with.
For Satoru, it’s no different. He felt guilt when he broke his promise.
*
Satoru Gojo. Twenty-three years old. Graduated with a bachelor’s degree in molecular biology and biotechnology. Currently working at a research laboratory 30 minutes away from his apartment while taking his master’s in infectious disease part-time. Passed his microbiologist board exam the same year he graduated from college. Tall, handsome, smart, and most importantly, a bank account with seven digits. Who could ask for more? Oh, and he’s an atheist too. Doesn’t really care about religion and all that as long as you fit his type.
Suguru Geto. Twenty-two years old. Graduated with a bachelor’s degree in legal management and currently a second-year law student. Tall, handsome, smart, and most importantly, a bank account with seven digits. Who could ask for more? Oh, and he’s religious too. But he won’t shove it down your throat, he can like anyone as long as you fit his type.
In a perfect line of chances and choices, these two men met when they were in high school. They did everything together — skipped classes to watch their favorite movie in the cinemas, played basketball for hours as they sweated their white polo uniform translucent, and took naps at random unused club rooms.
They also witnessed and felt every new emotion together. The first time Suguru got asked out by a male classmate which made Satoru’s eyes narrow from the wall where he eavesdropped, the first time Satoru went out with a girl from Suguru’s class and found out he was gay, and the first time Suguru felt seething jealousy when Satoru went on that date.
Even if their motto was fuck around and find out, things are different when it hits too close to home. They never wanted to risk losing each other. There were far too many uncertainties — what college they’ll be in, job prospects, finding out who they are, etc. — they didn’t want each other to be part of that.
They graduated together with things left unsaid. Suguru mumbled prayers with Satoru’s name during masses. Satoru always rubbed the ends of Suguru’s restaurant chopsticks, ensuring that there were no splinters, whenever he ate with him. They loved each other in their own hidden ways. Though subtle, the love was there. It was real, and that’s what’s important.
But once again, in a perfect line of chances and choices, they pass and get to study in the same top university together. It was fine for a while. They no longer had to see each other everyday as they studied different programs and their buildings were far apart. They stayed at condominiums that were blocks apart. Still, they made it a point to see each other at least once a week.
However, it was like a repeat of high school. It was natural for Satoru to be serenaded by people of all sexes and genders. It’s the same for Suguru who brings light to all the house parties he attends with Satoru. Phones are held out readily for their numbers and notes app to type their instagram usernames in. Hell, even graduate students in their departments have their eyes on them.
But, unbeknownst to all the people and even Satoru and Suguru themselves, they were practically married at this point. Satoru keeps a spare key of Suguru’s condo unit and the former has his fingerprint registered at the latter’s door knob. Suguru would come even late at night to help Satoru wash his white laboratory coats stained with crystal violet and all kinds of dyes. Satoru would buy Suguru groceries and cook dinner whenever he could (he’s surprisingly a good cook despite being born in a house where food is abundant and meals are ready-made at his request. Suguru would never admit it though).
Whenever Satoru was too drunk for some reason, he called Suguru. One slurred word and Suguru already knows what happened and what will happen. He’s made a mental list from how many times it’s happened.
- Satoru drinks too much.
- Satoru can’t have a DUI in his record.
- Satoru calls Suguru with a slurred speech.
- Suguru comes and drives his sedan for him.
- They arrive at Satoru’s unit and Suguru lays him down on his bed.
- Suguru forces him to drink a liter of water mixed with oral rehydration salt.
- Suguru says goodbye after setting down a glass of water and ibuprofen at the bedside table.
- Satoru whines and pulls him down the bed to sleep with him (literally).
- Suguru gives up and stays the night.
- Repeat.
It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy. Suguru complains at first but ultimately, he enjoys it too. It was at these moments that he could show his love for Satoru — hold him close to his chest, ruffle his hair, and kiss his head without being afraid of the consequences. Because come morning and they’ll act like normal friends again. Satoru mouths a playful “Sorry!” and Suguru responds with an empty “Don’t do it again.”
In their third year, it became too much that the pressure valve had to release. Feelings overflowed with every gaze and there was a hurt with every little touch of their bodies — hurt from knowing it may never be more than those fleeting, accidental, and drunk moments. Things had to be said even at the expense of their obviously homoerotic friendship. The burden of caging the feelings that gnawed at their fragile arteries far overweighed the risk of being strangers again.
So in short, they did fuck around and find out. It just took some time.
When Suguru graduated, in a cliche and dramatic scene, Satoru confessed with a bouquet of stargazer lilies — Suguru’s favorite. Suguru loves to watch them bloom. It was seven years in the making. Three years of high school and four years of college. It didn’t matter though because a lifetime was waiting ahead of them.
In a boyish and obviously embarrassed voice, Satoru shouted, “My eyes only ever looked at you, Suguru. The way your overgrown hair falls softly on your nape as if it was finally at home. The way you would tilt your head and lift your pointer finger to your chin whenever you thought of something profoundly. The way you went silent in prayer, folding your hands and closing your eyes, vulnerable and submitting yourself to your God.
I loved you when you were a cheeky stupid brat in high school. I loved you when you were a tired and overworked college student. And I’ll continue to love you now as adults and even when we’re senior citizens with wrinkly foreheads and curved spines!
So, Suguru, make me your boyfriend and I’ll make you the happiest man in the whole universe! I also promise to be with you in all your religious shenanigans even if I’m an atheist!”
“Okay, okay! That’s proof enough of your love. Now come here, Satoru.”
That day, they held hands. Sober with warm cheeks and a smile both had never seen on each other before. It looked good.
Time went by and they grew up into real adults. They lived around 35 minutes away from each other. They had separate apartments of course, but the building or location didn’t matter when talking about “home” — they’ve already made a home in the presence of each other.
Satoru landed a job at a research laboratory while taking his master’s degree. Suguru, on the other hand, started his law school journey. It was still the same as ever. Only now they’ve grown much taller, skin more coarse, and could proudly claim each other as their lover. Satoru would still help Suguru review his cases while cooking dinner for him and Suguru’s hands would still be dry after bleaching Satoru’s laboratory coats.
They weren’t perfect — nobody ever is. They would still fight at times with neither lowering their pride. Suguru would fixate on his recitations and Satoru would do overtime in the lab. Though, once they saw each other after days, they come running with teary eyes and a breathless “I’m sorry” while Satoru carries a plastic bag of Suguru’s favorite chili dumplings and the smell of honey-cured Salmon, Satoru’s favorite dish, fills Suguru’s apartment.
Satoru says “I’m home!” after the tears, Suguru says “Welcome home, Satoru!” with the most relieved and genuine smile.
That’s just how relationships are. You stay. Because love is the only thing not fragile in this world.
When a beloved dies, love comes in the form of grief that visits you never at the grave stone but while you’re grocery shopping on a sunny day. When a partner cheats on you, you cry and still hold on to the love you felt for them even while mouthing curses. You lose the energy to eat, walk outside the house, or meet up with friends — that’s love making you feel the burden of loss and betrayal. Love lingers in ways we don’t know. It takes many faces: grief, sorrow, pain, anger, resentment, and whatnot.
*
On a particularly cold Sunday morning, Suguru got up early to prepare for the weekly mass in a chapel 20 minutes away from his apartment. He debates on waking up Satoru but decides against it, thinking that the latter must be tired from late nights at the lab again.
He takes his car but not before praying for safety. He arrives on time at 7:45 AM, 15 minutes before the mass starts. At the ringing of bells, he gets up, and acts out the role of a devotee. Folded hands, voice conditioned to say “Amen”, and a kind smile whenever the sign of peace is offered to fellow church goers.
The mass ends and Suguru waves to the other regulars. The old women asks Satoru with a worried voice. After the small talk, Suguru walks back to his car, starts the engine with a turn of the key, and drives away.
He was now only 10 minutes away from his apartment where his lovely Satoru waits, probably still asleep. He thinks of what to cook him for breakfast, having a general cleaning, and washing the piled-up laundry.
At an intersection, it all goes black.
The shattering of glass and folding of titanium doors echo throughout the highway. Alternating police lights of blue and red fill the scene. Ambulance sirens wallow in the air.
There was an accident.
*
Suguru used to pray the holy novena every Wednesday. He never forced Satoru into it but every Sunday mass, he’d ask him for company. Naturally, Satoru can’t refuse even if he never really had a grounded faith to begin with. Since meeting Suguru, he always knew he was a religious person. It was only an hour-long ceremony anyway and Satoru was always down if it meant spending more time with Suguru.
That day, however, Satoru wasn’t there with Suguru.
He worked overtime the night before and slept soundly. Not until his phone rang.
It jolted him right up, wiping his eyes, and found no Suguru next to him. He picks up the phone with tired eyes, not bothering to check the caller ID, and says a “What?” with irritation.
The next words made his skin pale.
Suguru had been in a car accident. A collision with another SUV containing three college students.
A quick questioning revealed that the students were drinking the night before and until morning. The driver had a breath alcohol content of 0.15%, equal to 0.15 grams of alcohol per 100 mL of blood. This measurement of breath alcohol content is nearly twice the legal driving limit of 0.08%. At 0.15%, motor coordination and balance is affected, nausea is felt, speech is slurred, and cognitive judgement is impaired. It was a clear simple crime of driving under intoxication.
At 9:42 AM on December 24, 2023, a Sunday, Geto Suguru was pronounced dead by an emergency doctor at a nearby hospital. Suguru suffered traumatic brain injuries, a spine snapped in half, and blunt force trauma causing punctured lungs from fractured ribs. He ticked all the boxes for a car collision victim, the kind that only resulted in death and was studied by medical students.
That day, Satoru did not only lose a lover. He lost Suguru. He lost everything.
Just as when everything seemed to be going fine for Satoru, everything breaks because of one single absence in a Sunday mass.
Years of building up yourself just to be shattered by “God’s will”. Maybe this was his punishment for breaking the promise he made years ago. Or maybe this was his punishment for making himself believe that he loved God when in truth, it was Suguru who he loved. So much so that he’s willing to bend his ideologies.
God is funny like that. God is jealous like that. Or as Suguru used to say, God loves you like that. He sends challenges to make you stronger and everything is done in providence. The cat who died on the highway. The old man with a skin condition on the street who extends his hand for spare change. The mother who lost his newborn baby boy to defective lungs who never even stepped foot outside the hospital’s warm incubator light.
Maybe Suguru’s death was in the same category as those events. Satoru tried to rationalize it any way he could but you can’t rationalize something so unfair.
“If this is God’s plan then I’ll wreak havoc in heaven when I see him.”
*
It has been six months since Suguru’s death. The three suspects have been tried and put behind bars immediately with the influence of the Geto and Gojo family.
A lot of people attended the funeral. The white hall was filled with cries and the sound of snot. Suguru was loved.
In a corner or the hall, Satoru only watches with a dead expression. He couldn’t bear to deliver a eulogy because doing so would mean acknowledging Suguru was gone, even though his mere attendance was already proof of that. He didn’t dare say goodbye either because goodbyes are only said to people you’ll never see again.
So when the last shovel of soil was placed on top of Suguru’s coffin, covering any white plastic with gold insignias, Satoru mouths a “See you later.”
After Suguru was buried, the world still spinned. Only Satoru was left in the past because Suguru took all the possibilities with him when he died.
Suguru didn’t want to be cremated because as he said before, he’ll have enough of the scorching heat in hell.
Satoru took a leave of absence from university but still continued his work; bills won’t magically pay themselves (even if his bank account held enough rent money for 10 years). He locked himself up in his apartment. He lost the appetite to eat, he refused calls from his family and friends, and all he did was isolate himself in his work.
Eventually, Suguru’s apartment was cleaned out and he had to help. Suguru’s family took most of his things but let Satoru have anything he wanted first.
He took their pictures from when they were naive brats in high school who had all of the time in the world. Suguru’s college graduation ceremony picture when Satoru confessed his feelings. Pictures of a serene and sleeping Suguru which Satoru secretly took and printed.
He also took some of Suguru’s clothes, including the polo he wore on their first official date as a couple. The sweater he uses at night when it was too cold. The ring he had given Suguru as a promise to get engaged after he passed his bar exams. And lastly, Suguru’s black hair tie.
Satoru knew that someone passing meant never being able to see them again. It meant never hearing their voice again, forgetting their face, and their presence lingering only in their lonely clothes, stocked away in a dusty cabinet. Everything once so vivid about them slowly fades into dust. But not for Satoru. Not when it’s about Suguru.
He sees Suguru whenever the air conditioning unit is at 22 degrees celsius because Suguru hated the cold. He still turns it down to 25 degrees celsius.
He sees him whenever a man with black earrings passes by.
He sees him at the cold beverage walls of the grocery store because Suguru loved sweetened soymilk and would murmur frustrated whenever his favorite brand was sold out.
He sees him in such simple things but he feels them deeply.
He sees him even in his absence.
Satoru doesn’t know how to wash off the crystal violet and safranin dye on his white lab coats. Suguru had always done it for him but there’s no Suguru anymore.
He has to avail laundromat services.
He sees him in the untouched and dusty hand cream bottle by the drawer that Suguru uses after doing the laundry. There’s no use for it now but he just can’t bring himself to throw it away or use it. He likes to think that one day it’d be used again by the same hands that once did.
Satoru doesn’t know how to perfectly replicate Suguru’s honey-cured salmon steak. Nowadays, he even feels a conditioned aversion towards it because he remembers how Suguru always cooked it for him after a long work day, and that he’ll never have those moments again.
But Suguru’s absence takes up the most space when Satoru finds himself accidentally saying “I’m home!” and there’s no “Welcome home, Satoru!” to greet him in return.
Six months have passed yet Satoru fails to let go of these memories, or maybe he just doesn’t want to.
See, love is not fragile. It lingers in the small cracks. And Satoru’s heart, six months after Suguru’s passing, is still filled with it.
He tries to go to mass to have closure on all of this. Maybe God could give him an answer; Suguru always said God knew everything. He listens intently on the Father’s homily, sits straight on the church pews, and kneels accordingly with the other devotees. He folds his hands and sings praises like he never did with Suguru before.
But all of this only reminded him. Even if a light is shone, you only see the emptiness before you. When he looked to his right, there was no Suguru to nag him to listen and face his head forward. Only the old ladies were there and their condolences didn’t make anything better either.
They attended the funeral and donated to Suguru’s family (even if they evidently didn’t need it), and Satoru will forever be grateful for that. But he was never good at small talk, Suguru would always be the one doing the talking and social networking. To Satoru, he appeared to be pushing them away but the old women knew grief all too well and they understood.
For the following months, Satoru tried his best to strengthen his faith. He felt guilty for blaming God for everything. He never missed a Sunday mass and he prayed diligently. He smiled at the old women and wished them safe trips. He even bought a rosary of his own and started praying the novena every Wednesday such that he’s close to memorizing all of the mysteries.
One Sunday after attending mass, he drives to the cemetery. A pure white gravestone inscribed with golden text, clean as if buried yesterday. Satoru always cleaned it religiously because Suguru hated dirty walls, floors, and anything in general.
Beside it are fresh star lilies, Suguru’s favorite. He loved to watch them bloom. Sometimes they would be replaced everyday, sometimes they would stay for a week. The white marble reflects emotions Satoru has been isolating himself from. The tombstone reads:
Geto Suguru. Gone too quickly but remembered for eternity. Loved beyond time.
Suguru’s grave was like a shore and the sea that is Satoru pulled away but always came back.
At that moment, Satoru realized everything. He knew it long before but he denied it, like when he really knew how to wash his lab coats but didn’t dare do it. He pushed it away but it came gushing back like a broken dam.
Satoru doesn’t feel guilt from not believing in God. Satoru feels guilt because he’s letting go of the only part Suguru left — his faith.
His dusty religious relics.
His tattered novena booklet.
His blessed red rosary that smells of old people and roses.
He let it all go.
Satoru felt like he was betraying Suguru and trampling on the goodness of his prayers. Faith was the only thing left of Suguru that would survive the test of time but Satoru denied it.
For the first time in months since Suguru’s funeral, Satoru cried like a kid. Snot fell from his nostrils, his eyes reddened from all the rubbing, and his breath heaved high and low from insufficient air.
He was still the same Satoru who didn’t know what to do when he cried because Suguru’s warm arms would always be the one to hold him. He hugged himself tight.
Alone, sitting on Suguru’s grave, back leaning against the headstone. He decided that he needed to feel that warmth again.
It was time to put down the act.
*
On December 24, 2024, a Tuesday, Gojo Satoru woke up at 7:32 AM to prepare for his 9:00 AM - 4:00 PM job at the research laboratory 30 minutes away from his home. He ate his refrigerated leftovers, brushed his teeth, showered, and wore the clothes he ironed the night before. A longsleeved white polo, a navy blue neck tie, and black dress pants matched with polished black dress shoes. It looked more of an outfit for a funeral attendee rather than a microbiologist ready to clock in for work. He grew his hair out, just enough that it could be held in a low ponytail by a familiar black hair tie. Lastly, he religiously uses the almost empty hand cream by the drawer, signifying the end to his morning routine.
At 8:26 AM, he drove to work and arrived at 8:55 AM.
For the rest of the day, he was focused on his duties. It's Christmas tomorrow so he must do his best today, so that God and Santa would reward him.
He went out to eat with coworkers and was looking healthier than ever. He smiled more, went out more, and proactively called families and friends for quick check-ins with them. He went to mass as usual every Sunday and prayed the holy novena every Wednesday.
At exactly 4:00 PM, he clocked out of work. It was a particularly tiring day but Satoru hadn’t gone down the parking level yet to leave. Instead, he took the stairs upwards towards the rooftop of the 15-story building.
He stayed there for a little while, sitting at the old and ragged wooden bench. He wanted to see the sunset one last time. It was truly a sight he'll miss — the way the orange hues blended and disappeared with the blue like an extinguished flame. Much like their love, sunsets are short-lived which makes them all the more special. Satoru made sure to burn the image in his hippocampus as a farewell. He knew all too well how important goodbyes are.
At 5:33 PM, Satoru stood up from the bench and walked towards the building’s ledge. He folded his hands and prayed to God one last time to deliver his message to Suguru.
“I miss you, Suguru.
I’ll be waiting by the church pews again — singing your name, praising your deeds, and remembering your voice that nagged me to listen to the homilies.
But you don’t understand, Suguru. God can’t edify me, not anymore. Not with you gone. You took all the goodness in this world and made it your company in the coffin.
But you don’t need to worry anymore.
My only god — Suguru.
Wait for me.
I won’t miss a single mass this time, so please don’t disappear on me.
See you soon.”
Satoru takes another step forward. This is what Suguru would have wanted — for Satoru to move on.
With no one to hold him down, he falls, ready to meet his lover.
…
I’m home!
Welcome home, Satoru. You came to see me quite fast. Did you miss me that much?
Well, I needed someone to wash my lab coats, no?