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On the spring equinox, a wave of unease crept along the edges of the frontier, heavy and unhurried, until it surrounded the perimeter of the town like a poison. No one was alarmed when the mammals in the plains slowly waned out without a trace. Not until the merchants ran out of meat.
The macabre killings began shortly after.
There were no suspects. Aside from earthly possessions, the only evidence that proved the victims had even lived at all, the only proof of life they left behind, were bones. Thousands of them. Fragmented and cracked with gray marrow sealing the edges. Sometimes buried in the arid soil, but usually, they were piled one on top of the other in a mound. Always, the outcome was the same: no blood, no fingerprints, no crime.
The religious type were the first to leave. The God hand, they called it, had passed judgment and damned them all to Hell. Those who stayed prepared to combat the invisible threat. They never talked about the calamity. Ever. Because talking about it would make it realer than it already was, and no one was ready to accept such an inevitable fate.
The more pressing matter at hand, however, was the rancid odor that invaded the saloon on Church Avenue and the deafening silence that followed.
It was more offensive than it was repulsive. Rotten like spoiled meat and sweet like the dead. Patrons gagged and dry heaved. Heads turned, except for Geto Suguru's—who was waiting patiently for his second drink and would not be perturbed by something so revolting—to watch the source of the foulness walk through the swinging doors. The wooden floor creaked beneath the man as he slowly made his way to the bar. The stench grew closer until it loomed over Suguru like the shadow of a cloud, but he had smelled worse things.
Rather than sitting in the stool on the far right, the man sat just a seat away from Suguru, who sat in his usual spot on the far left, and began chewing tobacco. Suguru could feel the man's eyes burn into the side of his head, but he kept his gaze ahead and continued tapping his fingers on the wood of the bar. Whispers and murmurs behind them spoke of speculation: if the suspect was anyone in this town, it was unequivocally, without a doubt, Toji Fushiguro.
After all, Toji had a reputation that somehow extended beyond his foul odor. People said that he once stopped a bullet between his teeth, earning himself the scar on his mouth and a chipped incisor. Suguru didn't believe that one to be true—the human reaction time is far too slow—but he does know that Toji had somehow gotten out of the death penalty for homicide and then again for sexual battery. Because of people like him, Suguru never believed in the law. With a lump sum of cash and nonexistent morals, anyone could rise above it.
Suguru knows a dangerous man when he sees one, and Toji was as dangerous as they come. The townsfolk were well within their right to accuse him.
The bartender slid Suguru's drink over to him on the mahogany wood, fingers lingering with practiced mischief. His blue eyes darted down to a spot just below Suguru's chest and then back up again. Suguru leaned in close enough to see the freckles under his left eye. "He's going to get spit everywhere but the spittoon. Five bucks says he does," the bartender whispered.
Suguru tilted his head down to look at the brass cuspidors neatly lined up along the edge of the bar wall and snorted. "I never bet on a losing dog."
That made the corner of the bartender's mouth slowly curve upwards. He exhaled sharply out of his nose and finally released the glass. Then, he stood in front of Toji. "What can I get started for you? We are the last place in town that still has meat on the menu, you know. I pay a high price for the finest imports." His tone was warm but his face was anything but.
Toji slammed a fist on the table like an overgrown toddler throwing a fit. Typical. "You know what I want, Satoru."
Satoru cheekily jutted his hip to the side and placed a hand over it. He tilted his head with an air of confusion. "I most certainly do not. And that's Gojo to you, sir."
"You never answered me before. Why do you play so hard to get?" Toji asked gruffly.
Satoru blinked at him. "Maybe a beer to get you started? You want that dark or light? How about some grub? I must say, our meals are quite filling for the price. Two for one special today on the sausage and baked beans."
Toji pressed on. "People would die to be in your shoes. Being pursued by a man like me. Are you scared? Is that it? Don't want to be tied down?"
Satoru turned away from him with a dramatic sigh to grab a glass. "Dark it is, then."
Suguru silently watched the exchange as he sipped his drink. He didn't think Toji was crazy enough to attack Satoru in public, since everyone carried.
After his first week living here, Suguru came to realize that the people of this town loved Satoru; Toji would have more holes in him than a slice of swiss cheese if anyone ever found out he laid a hand on him.
Toji was not an outlier, though. Not by a longshot. Men constantly harassed Satoru for his striking appearance, which made him an easy target for robbers and other wrongdoers. After Suguru finished with work, Satoru liked for him to visit him at the saloon, so it became a habit for Suguru to stay at the saloon nearly every day of the week to see him for a free drink. And look after him, of course.
It wasn't like Satoru was a damsel in distress, though. It was quite the opposite. He had a mouth like a loose cannon and never let anyone outwit him in a contest of dispute.
With the pace of molasses, Toji dragged a tan finger—which was not tan as a result of genetics or sun exposure, mind you—around the rim of the glass that Satoru had put down with the force of someone who didn't get paid enough to deal with this shit. Foam poured down the sides in agreement.
"That'll be twelve cents," Satoru said with his palm outstretched, not quite close enough to touch the man but just close enough for him to deposit coins into his hand.
"Not on the house? I'm hurt."
"With all due respect, sir, I don't know you, and I don't want to get to know you," Satoru said through a smile of gritted teeth. Not entirely untrue. No one was close enough to Toji to know him, not even his cronies. It was like he was built from legends and rumors rather than flesh and blood. "Besides, animals cling once they learn that they don't have to earn their keep."
Suguru's snort formed bubbles at the top of his drink.
"Satoru," Toji chided in a low voice. He reached into his shirt pocket and placed a small object in Satoru's waiting hand. "I'm serious about you. I want you, and this is a testament to that. A promise."
Glancing down at the object in his hand, Satoru made a face and wrinkled his nose. No amount of professionalism could mask his disgust. "You cannot pay with…whatever the hell this is."
Suguru caught a glimpse of the silver ring in the palm of his hand and scoffed. The ring was obviously fake. Rather than rust, the material had oxidized into verdigris. Black burns surrounded the uncut gemstone. Quite honestly, it didn't even look like a ring. It maybe looked like something Suguru would have found clinging to the bottom of his horse's hoof but certainly not a ring.
Toji snarled at his rejection and reached into a pocket in his trousers, and as soon as his hand reappeared, a handful of pennies was tossed in Satoru's general direction. The coins clinked loudly as they hit the floor.
"Oops. My hand slipped," Toji said behind an impish grin, and then like an afterthought, "Go on. Count them up, and give me my change."
Satoru closed his eyes and exhaled loudly through his nose, resigned to bending over in front of Toji and picking up the coins. Suguru squinted at him. "Don't."
Toji whipped his head so fast that his neck cracked thrice. He leaned forward a little and spat at the spittoon between them. A vulgar display of power. Only half of it made it in. The other half ran languidly down the side of the brass and onto the floor.
Satoru smirked at him. Suguru hid his own shit-eating grin behind his glass. He would have won that bet, but Satoru wasn't the type to make good on promises, let alone bets.
"Boy, you'll stay outta this if you know what's good for you," Toji said. Then, he turned to Satoru with a devious grin. "Who does he think he is? Must be green as all hell to pick a fight with me."
Suguru could see the exact moment that mischief popped into Satoru's head. His eyes widened cartoonishly, and his grin stretched across his face like the Cheshire Cat. "Oh? You didn't know? He's my main squeeze."
The drink Suguru had been nursing all afternoon suddenly felt like lead on his tongue, but he swallowed anyway.
Toji scoffed and then laughed a little like he just realized the punchline of a joke. "You're a goddamn liar. You just don't know when to quit pushing me away, do you?"
Throwing a damp rag over his shoulder, Satoru walked over to Suguru and leaned over the bar wall. "Now, why would I lie? He's the only one for me, my dear."
Satoru didn't hesitate, not even for a second, before he grabbed him loosely by the jaw, pulled him forward, and kissed him silly.
When you've been around for as long as Suguru has, you develop a propensity for intuition. You prepare for the worst, the best, and all possible scenarios because you've lived through it all. Such was the life of a cowboy. Lacking intuition meant lacking proper preparation, and proper preparation was the interface between life and death. Survival of the fittest and all that. But Suguru was not prepared for Satoru Gojo's lips to feel so soft and taste so sweet.
This was by no means the first kiss Suguru had shared with a man—that happened the first and last time he tasted alcohol—but it was his first kiss with Gojo Satoru, and that made it different somehow.
He doesn't know when he started kissing him back. Suguru tucked a lock of his white hair behind his ear and reciprocated. He let Satoru noisily glide his tongue along the roof of his mouth. He let him pull his jaw open so he could push his tongue as deep as he could. He let him kiss his lips, his cheeks, his nose, his forehead, and his chin. Suguru had never been more complicit.
He had almost forgotten what they were doing all of this for until he heard glass shatter on the ground. Suguru turned toward the noise, ready to spring into action, but a wounded noise escaped Satoru's throat. A whine. Suguru couldn't say no to that; he wouldn't. Satoru's upper body was practically over the banister when Suguru gently pushed him away.
Satoru pouted, but he didn't say anything. And neither did Suguru.
"Floozy," Toji muttered under his breath as he stood up. Then he glanced down at Suguru, contempt bleeding through bloodshot eyes. "This ain't over. He'll be mine before he knows it. Just you watch."
Satoru waved him away. "Bye-bye!"
Toji grunted and walked out the way he came. He pushed through the swinging doors so hard that the inertia carried them halfway back open before conclusively swinging shut behind him. The hinges squeaked in protest. The patrons who couldn't withstand his smell had already left. And that was most of the saloon.
Suguru let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "How often does he come here? I'm surprised it doesn't stink in here all the time. Must be bad for business."
Satoru frowned. "Would you be shocked if I told you that was his second time here?"
"Seriously? Damn."
"Yeah. Damn is right," he replied, turning away to grab a mop. "I don't know why they keep releasing him from penitentiary. Whatever they say he did, he definitely did it and he will absolutely do it again. You don't even need to be a judge to know that."
Suguru drained the rest of his glass and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. When Satoru nodded to the keg, silently asking if he wanted more, Suguru shook his head. "Sounds like you need to start carrying protection. You know, like normal people do."
"Why would I do that when I have my knight in shining armor?" Satoru batted his long lashes, and Suguru couldn't argue with that. "Thanks, by the way. I fully thought you were going to kill me for that."
"The kiss? It's fine, don't worry about it." Suguru would though. Oh, would Suguru worry.
For as long as Suguru had known him—two months to be exact—his mouth had brought him more trouble than good. In fact, they got real acquainted when Satoru had instigated a brawl between his fellow cowhands, and when they discovered he was the one provoking and pitting them against each other, they were only a single thought away from putting a bullet in his skull, right then and there. Suguru had stepped in then, but if Satoru doesn't learn to pick his fights more carefully, well. Suguru might not be there to protect him next time.
When Satoru finished cleaning up Toji's mess, he followed him out to the stables, ranting about green thumbs—or rather, his lack thereof.
"I think you're supposed to grow them apart? I swear the merchant said you only need to water them once a month."
"Once a month? As in every thirty days?" Suguru asked incredulously. He shook his head, disappointed but not surprised. "Let me guess. You forgot to water them one month and then that became two months, and by the time you remembered, your tomatoes had already died."
Satoru had stopped walking to gawk at him, jaw awry as if Suguru had just unraveled the secrets of the universe. Without pause, Suguru threw a glance behind him, snorted, and continued his trek to the stables. The crunch of hay under his boots piqued his horse's attention. She shook her head happily and stomped her hoof. A smile tugged at the corner of Suguru's lips. "You're supposed to water them more frequently than once a month," he continued. "Either that merchant was talking out of his ass or you're as deaf as a newborn puppy."
Once he reached the stable, Suguru put his hat on with one hand and pat the belly of his horse Jean with the other until she huffed gently, impatient.
Satoru followed him in. His eyes darted between the horse and Suguru. "You're a mind reader, too?"
"No. You're just easy to read," Suguru mumbled, taking a step forward to poke him in the center of his chest. Not quite hard enough to push him backwards but just enough to get his point across. "You wear your heart on your sleeve and bear your soul on your chest. While the average man would leave you alone if you called him out of his name, guys like Toji won't stop until you're bleeding. They won't stop until they get what they want. You get what I'm saying, or do I need to spell it out for you?"
Satoru looked down at his finger and then back at Suguru. His cheeks flushed. "Yeah, I get it," he replied softly. "But you'll protect me, won't you?"
"Always," Suguru affirmed. His finger softened into a gentle fist, knuckles grazing Satoru's apron. "But I won't be around all the time."
Satoru grabbed him by the wrist and then placed his hand over his heart. He batted his white lashes, and Suguru could tell by the smirk on his face that his lecture went in one ear and out the other. "My big bad hero," he swooned dramatically.
Satoru's heartbeat was steady compared to his own, which felt like it was just about ready to jump through his ribcage. Never mind the fact that it didn't beat to the same rhythm. It hasn't in at least three hundred years.
As quickly as Satoru grabbed him, he pulled away. "Hey, I know it's a lot to ask, but on the days when you come in, do you think you could pretend to…I don't know, be my boyfriend?"
When Suguru stared at him like he'd grown a horn in his forehead, because no one has asked him out so blatantly before, he cleared his throat. "Like you said, Toji won't stop harassing me until I. god forbid, accept his marriage proposal. And now that I think about it, you do owe me for keeping you-know-what a secret," Satoru whispered the last of the sentence, as if they weren't the only ones in the stables and saying it for what it was would condemn them both.
"Yeah," Suguru said, breathless, voice cracking. Then, after realizing he might have sounded too desperate, "Sure."
A grin slowly spread over Satoru's face. "Blackmail works wonders," he muttered. "Do you think…" he trailed off. Then, he tilted his head thoughtfully. Suguru knew what he was thinking before he could even say it.
They'd been over the details of their peculiar arrangement more times than Suguru can count on one hand. Regardless of the grade, large quantities of meat had to be de-boned and tenderized, which even with four hands, took half a day at the very least. To process the meat for the sausage and chili that the saloon served, the flesh needed to be the consistency of applesauce. More importantly, certain requirements had to be satisfied before the picking. For Satoru's safety, they proceeded with utmost caution. The weak and the old were the first to go, but someone like Toji could not go missing quietly. Not when he was as popularly unpopular as he was.
Suguru shook his head. "But then everyone would notice he's gone. He's not quite your every day, average smelling citizen. You know the rules."
Satoru kicked a pebble with the edge of his shoe and watched it skitter into another heap of hay. "Realistically though, people would be happier without him around."
"Probably."
"And hypothetically, we could get rid of him easily."
"Mhm. But then we'd get caught," Suguru reminded, pushing a white lock of hair behind his ear. "I'd be fine, but you'd probably die from starvation in penitentiary. They don't serve sweets."
"You could, like, bust me out if you wanted to though. Just saying."
Satoru could leave this town if only Suguru let him, but Suguru wasn't ready for that conversation. Because leaving would mean cutting Satoru out of this little life he created. Because Satoru leaving with him would require Suguru to accept the guilt of ruining his life.
He doesn't say these things. He never does. Part of him hopes he never will.
Satoru leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. This wasn't unusual between them. He learned very quickly into their friendship that Satoru had a habit—a bad one, if you asked Suguru—of kissing his friends goodbye rather than hugging them or simply waving them away. He'd always been touchy like that. For the first few weeks of knowing Satoru, he thought Shoko Ieiri was his wife after watching him latch onto her, but the mere suggestion of it made Satoru gag and Shoko spit up moonshine. Satoru clarified that she was his best friend, and she liked women. Today though, Suguru felt like his brain was seeping through his ears. This couldn't be healthy for him.
But this time, Suguru fought tooth and nail to not turn his head and kiss him on the lips.
"See you soon, cowboy," Satoru said, backing away, hands clasped behind his back. "When will I see you again?" Satoru asked.
After attaching his satchel to Jean's back, Suguru hopped on top and grabbed the reins. The sun hovered over the horizon. "When you usually see me," he replied, squinting through the sunset.
Suguru mounted Jean and took the reigns. He tilted his hat downwards, hoping the wide brim would hide the flush on his cheeks, and walked his horse out of the stable.
"Well, I want to see you tomorrow. Fresh meat." Suguru heard the pout before he saw it. Cute.
He chuckled. "I'm starting to think you're loving this more than I do. I'll be back tomorrow, okay?"
The answer seemed to please him. Satoru's brows slowly softened. "Okay. Yeah. See you soon," he repeated.
Suguru tipped his hat off to him and steered Jean homebound.
He aimed for nonchalance, but the emptiness in his head was anything but.
Their arrangement worked well. Too well. Because while Suguru only aimed to keep up their act if and only if Toji was in the saloon, Satoru kept it up, all the time. He had no decorum.
It started with shameless flirting at the bar. Workplace harassment, if you asked anyone who was unfortunate enough to have heard it. Suguru knew he was done for when Satoru would lean over the bar wall, bat his eyelashes and ask him things like, "What do you love about me? Quickly." or "Are your nipples also tan? Can I see?" or, Suguru's favorite, "Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I reintroduce myself?"
And Suguru, ever the yes-man, would play along. For Satoru, this was quote, necessary because to really sell it, they'd have to go all the way. The customers received it well, and that was good enough for Suguru because he knew the news of their relationship would reach Toji eventually. Satoru decided that wasn't enough, and so lately, they became rather touchy. He'd hold Suguru's hand when they walked to the stable, ruffle Suguru's hair when he said something very unfunny, and hell, he'd even peck him on the lips multiple times a day like it was his second job.
Suguru didn't mind, obviously. Shoko called them gay and co-dependent, but she was only half-right. Suguru was bisexual, thank you very much.
Even now, Satoru was leaning over the bar wall, holding his hand and watching as Suguru nursed his drink with a look of pride in his concoction.
The blonde man to the right of Suguru cleared his throat a little when it had been several long minutes since Satoru took his order and failed to make his drink.
He seemed like the serious type. Glasses pushed so far up his nose that his eyelashes brushed against them with every blink. His business suit was void of wrinkles, despite it being a Thursday evening, the end of a business day. His hair was perfect. Not a strand out of place. Suguru's first thought was that he must be horrible to drink with.
"Oops," Satoru said. "Got distracted."
Suguru sighed and turned towards the man, an apologetic smile adorning his lips. "Sorry about him. He's usually like that. Between you and me, I think he got dropped on his head as a baby. That's my hypothesis."
Glass clattered unceremoniously in the sink as Satoru's head swiveled. "Hey!"
The man's jaw clenched. "It's unorthodox for gay men to exist."
Suguru was working himself up to reply with something snarky, but the man nodded to the missing persons bulletin board on the wall. The gesture was so stiff, so subtle, Suguru almost didn't catch it. "Reminded me of a late friend of mine, is all. Haibara Yu."
Suguru turned towards the wall and scanned the posters until he found the name. In smaller font was his point of contact: NANAMI KENTO. He hummed. "Sorry for your loss." A beat and then, "Are you Nanami?"
The man nodded once. "He was terminally ill. Tuberculosis. Just wish he didn't have to go out with the calamity like he did. They still haven't found his remains, even though it's been a week since his passing," he said. Suguru could smell the blood from where his nails dug into his palm before he could see it. With a solemn smile, the man slowly unclenched his fist. "I think he would have enjoyed seeing people like you being so open about their love."
Satoru returned with two shots and a beer for Nanami. "Did you love him?" He asked softly.
Suguru sipped his crimson drink as his eyes darted between the two men. He couldn't detect an ounce of indifference on Satoru's face. Of the two of them, Satoru had always been the better liar.
Nanami downed both shots with the detachment of a man with nothing left to loose. Satoru glanced at Suguru with the knowing smile of a man who understood the joke. "I did," he croaked. "Never got to tell him, but yes. I did."
For the next half hour or so, they listened to him. He sobbed uncontrollably into his hands, glasses be damned. Satoru sauntered around the bar wall to rub his palm up and down his spine. Suguru swiveled in his stool so that his body faced the man as he sipped on his late lover's blood. The flavor was rich, he'd give him that much.
The evening slipped away from them. Nanami was the first to realize the idleness of the saloon, how the air sat still as if the utterance of a single breath was forbidden.
"I've kept you gentlemen for far too long," he said, shivering as a cool night breeze engulfed them. "Thank you. I think I needed this."
Satoru walked him to the double doors. "Please, come back any time. I'll give you a little something on the house."
Nanami shook his head. "No, that's too kind of you."
"Oh, it's the least I can do. It would be no trouble at all," he said softly.
After crossing the threshold, Nanami bowed his head a little and made his way to the stables. Satoru watched him until his figure disappeared into the night.
"You are really something else," Suguru observed.
Satoru practically skipped to him, grinning from ear to ear. Scratch his initial hypothesis, this man was definitely not normal. "Hm? Why do you say that?"
Suguru shook his head. "One could say you were having the time of your life with that man."
"It was just a little fun!" he exclaimed, poking him in the arm. Suguru didn't move an inch. "Come on. Tell me you didn't find it hysterical."
One of Suguru's eyebrows raised. "I've been doing this centuries before you were even born. I don't play with my food." He had hoped that he sounded mature and wise, very upstanding citizen-like, but like always, Satoru proved him wrong.
"Anymore." Then, Satoru crossed his eyes and wiggled his tongue, and slowly, a smile stretched across Suguru's lips. It was so ridiculous but it warmed his cold heart all the same.
"It's probably about time that I get going too," Suguru yawned as he stood, joints cracking in protest. "Long day tomorrow."
"Ugh." Satoru rolled his eyes. "It's not like you need to sleep any—"
"You ain't going no where, boy."
They both turned their heads towards the door. With a sharp bang, the wooden door splintered into pieces. A black boot kicked through it, revealing Toji's crazed face.
Satoru leaped behind the bar wall. Suguru stared down the double barrel of a shotgun.
"You want to know something funny? I thought I was crazy until I met you," Toji said, approaching Suguru slowly like a snake encircling its prey. He was wearing the same outfit from the first time they met and smelled the part. Just the thought of how much time must have passed without him bathing made Suguru's skin crawl. "You made a hobby of stealing wives, have you?"
Suguru leaned his hips against the wall and crossed his arms anyways. "I can't steal something that was never yours to begin with."
Toji snarled and jousted the gun towards his face. "Gojo Satoru is mine. You got that?"
"Nope."
After a few seconds passed between them, the man frowned at him like he had never been defied before. "What?"
"I said—"
He huffed, showing teeth. "No, I heard what you said, motherfucker. Are you suicidal?"
Suguru snorted. "Are you deaf? I'm positive that he refused your proposal last time, and yet here you are, seeking him out like a blood hound."
He shrugged. "Yeah, well. Sometimes they just take a little convincing."
"A little convincing," Suguru repeated flatly.
"Don't tell me you've never met someone who played hard to get?" Toji brought his face closer without moving the gun from his face. He was close enough for Suguru to see that all but one of his teeth were rotten. His breath smelled the part. He nodded in Satoru's general direction. "Here's the deal. Just let me slip him a mickey, and we can both have a little fu—"
Toji wanted a contest of strength, but it wasn't even a fight at all, not by a longshot. Suguru swung at him so fast that Toji didn't have time to breathe, let alone react. He responded to Toji with an uppercut. His fist collided with the bottom of his chin, and the sheer force of it deformed his jaw, shattering the bone into shrapnel. The punch sent him projectiling backwards through the air. His teeth rained down on the floor, and blood sprayed in an arc from the impact.
Given his superhuman strength, Suguru was usually good about holding back during altercations, but this time, he didn't even need to check Toji's pulse to know that he was dead.
"Whoa," Satoru whispered behind him, eyes blown wide. When he heard the impact, he had rounded the bar wall to see the action.
What the fuck was he thinking? Suguru had to blink himself out of his trance. This was bad. Really fucking bad. "Shit, I—, sorry, I didn't mean to—"
"Shh." Satoru put a hand over his mouth. "I'm thinking."
Suguru watched him curiously. He could practically see the wheels turning in his head. His white brows furrowed as his eyes danced back and forth at a spot above Suguru's head, like he was weighing out options only he could see. Suguru prepared himself for the worst. He waited to hear him say he wanted nothing more to do with him, that he didn't need someone like him, a murderer, in his company.
Instead, Satoru smiled brightly at him and said, "I want you to do it."
"Do it?" Suguru looked at him, appalled. He had no idea what he was going on about. "Do what?"
"Turn me. You can do that, right? Or is that just a myth?"
Suguru stared at him with his mouth slightly ajar. His words scrambled out of order in his brain until he was able to parse them for what they were. "I don't think you know what you're asking for."
Satoru hummed thoughtfully and counted on his fingers, "Everlasting youth, immortality, carnivorous diet, superhuman strength—then you wouldn't have to worry over me anymore. Am I missing anything? Oh, and hypnosis! Or is that just a myth?"
"Let me get this straight. You want me to turn you into a vampire?" Satoru nodded.
"And you're serious?"
"Yep."
"Even though you'll be living in isolation?"
Satoru shook his head. "See, that's where you're wrong. Why would I be living in isolation when I have you to keep me company for eternity?"
Suguru sputtered. "E-Eternity? You want to be with me for…for forever? Satoru, I really don't think you know what you're—"
His thoughts dissolved into mush when Satoru grabbed him by the collar and kissed him something sweet. His soft lips made something primal within him stir. Satoru hummed, satisfied. "This is better than marriage, I think."
Suguru stared at him through wide eyes. "You like me? Satoru, I just killed a man." In fact, his signature rotten smell acquired a metallic scent as the blood pooled around his corpse.
"I know. You've killed a lot of them, how nice of you to notice," he deadpanned, then tilted his head. "It wasn't obvious that I like you? Fuck, I thought you knew. You think I'd ask just anyone to pretend to be mine? That I'd kiss just anyone like, like that?"
"I don't know!" Suguru exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. "You're so…you know?" He shook his head and then looked at him properly. "You like me?"
"Yeah. Do you…do you not? I thought with the way you looked at me that you…," he trailed off, waving his hands around, drawing a picture only he could see, "Do you not like me?"
His blue eyes softened into something sad, and it made Suguru's stomach plummet six stories down. "Satoru."
"If you don't, it's fine. Just. Just forget about it," he said, dropping his hands from his collar. It felt like he was relinquishing ownership of him, and Suguru decided that he did not like that.
"Satoru."
Tears were welling up in his eyes. Satoru's eyes were wet. Wet because Suguru was making him cry. "You have to head home, yeah? Let's get you—"
With gentle, wavering hands, Suguru cradled his face with a level of care that was foreign to him, like he was something precious, fragile, easy to fracture, and kissed the corner of his mouth. Satoru shivered from his cold touches. "Satoru, I…I love you more than I even love myself. You have to know that."
Satoru's eyes glazed over, unfocused. Red clouded around the blue of his irises. Suguru could feel his head shake a little in his palms. A silent no. Suguru kissed him square on the lips this time and lingered a little longer out of necessity, exigent. "I never thought I could have you like this. Never thought you would let me." He punctuated each sentence with another kiss. Satoru tugged at the bottom of his vest lightly, beckoning him closer. "You're too good for me. The last thing I wanted was for you to get involved with someone, something, like me."
Satoru shook his head slowly, dazed. "I don't know how you can say that when it's like you were made just for me." He kissed him on the cheek. And then again on the other. "I want you to have me. I want to be yours. Will you let me?"
"If I do this," Suguru started, looking him dead in the eye because he needed him to understand the gravity of what he was getting himself into. "You'll never go back to being human. You could beg and plead for death to take you, and it never will. Even if your body was cleaved into a million pieces, burned into ash and dust, your soul will remain on this soil for eternity, restless. You will not die, not in the way that humans can."
"You'll stay with me, won't you?" He asked without pause, gripping his wrists firmly with a certainty that scared Suguru.
"Of course," he said, kissing his lips again. "I won't ever leave you. Ever."
Blue eyes darted back and forth between his brown ones. Any second now, Suguru's chest would cave in from the weight of his decision. A smile slowly adorned his lips. "Then that doesn't seem terrible at all. I don't want to imagine a life where you're living on without me. Besides, who else is going to keep your cold ass warm?"
An identical smile slowly warmed Suguru's lips. He hummed. "It's going to hurt."
"I have a good pain tolerance. I think."
Suguru let out a nervous laugh. "To be honest, I've never turned anyone before."
"So I'll be your first. Romantic," Satoru drawled, wiggling his brows. "But someone must have turned you, right?"
Endearing, but it didn't calm his nerves. "Yeah. I think I know how to do it, but bear with me, okay?"
Satoru closed his eyes. "I trust you."
And, fuck, if Suguru didn't want to ravish him right then and there.
He beared his canines as he tilted Satoru's head and took his carotid between his lips. Satoru shivered a little when he kissed him there. He gently sucked the skin over the artery into his mouth and pulled Satoru's hips against his own. "Try to stay still," he whispered softly against his neck.
There was no gentle way to do it. Satoru screamed gutterally as Suguru bit into him. Blood spilled from the bite as he sucked on his pulse.
"F-Fuck!" Satoru's nails dug into his back while Suguru's thumb massaged the skin against his spine. Underneath the usual metallic taste of blood was something sickly sweet, but Suguru didn't chase it. He wanted to get this over with as soon as possible.
The ritual went on for another minute or so. When Suguru sucked harder, Satoru's hips bucked against his own, and he moaned softly into the shell of his ear. Occasionally, Satoru would let out a painful wail, and Suguru would begin to retract his fangs only for Satoru to pull him impossibly closer. It was a careful, intimate dance that only they knew: a dance of the dead mourning the living.
Only when Suguru felt his full weight collapse into him did he stop. He pressed his hand against the wound to stop the bleeding. Using his other hand to wipe the blood from his mouth, Suguru finally pulled away to look at him. From how cold his skin was, he couldn't tell if he had successfully turned him or if he was dying.
"Sweetheart. Are you with me?" Suguru asked, worry on his tongue. God, he wouldn't even know what to do with himself if he killed the only man he would ever love.
Satoru's eyes fluttered open. His usual bright blue eyes were dull, less vibrant. His pupils had formed slits. The light would never catch his irises the same again, and Suguru felt guilty for that.
As Suguru bore his weight, albeit awkwardly, his hips stuttered against his upper thigh. "Satoru, say something. Please."
"Mm. Feels fuckin' incredible. Gonna win ev'ry arm wrestle now," he slurred deliriously. "Think I…ha. Think I orgasmed. Hot. So hot."
Suguru shook his head, laughing, relieved. "You're not making sense, honey."
"I nutted. 'Jaculated. Came. In my pants. From you. Suckin' on me." Satoru lazily rolled his head forward to look up at him. "We are so doin' that again. Jesus."
When Suguru peered down at his pants, sure enough, there was a wet, gray spot over the crotch of his khakis. He chuckled. "You are so weird."
"Yet, you love me," Satoru grinned. "Carry me to thine carriage, m'lady."
Suguru rolled his eyes and frowned, but he carried him bridal style without protest. "You want to leave now? What about the saloon?"
"We have eternity, Suguru. We'll figure it out eventually," he drawled, looking up at him through new eyes.
"You're enjoying this way too much." Suguru stepped over Toji's dead body, through what was left of the swinging doors, and walked into the night.
Satoru clinged to his neck and kissed the curve of his jawline. "How can I not? There's no getting rid of me now."
By morning, the townsfolk reported that the calamity had vanished. The diseased crops suddenly flourished, animals returned to the prairies, and the darkness that swept the town seemed to have disappeared overnight. Toji Fushiguro, the most rambunctious outlaw in the town's history, was found dead in the saloon, face nearly unrecognizable. Cause of death was extreme hemorrhage. Perpetrator was unknown.
Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto were reported missing that day, speculated to be the last victims of the calamity.