Chapter Text
"You want the truth? Then I'll tell you," Suguru exhales, expression darkening, "I don't love you, Satoru. I never did, I don't think I ever will. I lied to you." A pause. "All I've ever wanted to do," he mumbles without breaking eye contact, "Is to break you. Rip your heart and shred it into pieces." Silence follows the statement. Their eyes never leave each other. Satoru opens his mouth to speak, then closes it.
"I know."
The words slice the air, catching Suguru off guard. A taken aback What? almost leaves his mouth, instead, he keeps his composure. "You know? How long have you known?” Satoru clenches his fist, gathering all his courage to finally speak, "As soon as you came back! I admit I never believed a word you muttered," his voice grew desperate, shaky, as if begging him to stay, "every damned thing that came out of your mouth, it was a lie, wasn't it!?"
Now, his tone was sure, sharp and accusing. Satoru regains his composure and stands his ground.
"You never meant it. None of it." Satoru's voice falters, resting in a flat, newly-assured state.
Without denying it, Suguru fires back, "If you're so sure—if you've always been—then what are you doing here? In my room, on my bed?" Satoru's eye twitches, taken aback by the sudden apathy. "What am I doing here? Do you hear yourself? Do I need to even tell you why I'm here?"
Silence.
After a sharp inhale, Satoru manages to gasp out—"Because I love you! I always have, always will! You know this. It's painfully obvious, even if I don't want it to be—because this is exactly how I expected you to react." Of course. It was obvious, the way Satoru acted around Suguru—of course he really held those feelings for him. Suguru knew. Almost everyone did—but hearing the confession in real time—it felt so real. Satoru was really standing in front of him, on the verge of tears.
-
There was nothing more for either of them to say.
The next couple of days slide by awkwardly. Both of them continued on with their day-to-day lives—yet both cannot deny the argument haunts them.
Satoru didn't know what to do.
This must mean the end. He ponders, a little dramatically—but reasonably so. Suguru was—is his everything. Satoru couldn't possibly imagine a world, a life, his life, without him. It was impossible, yet it was creeping uncomfortably close. Suguru was a call away, perhaps even a text—yet he couldn't bring himself to reach out. He couldn't do anything. Not now. Not like this.
Meanwhile, Suguru was fairing only slightly better. In his mind, Satoru’s words kept repeating,
“I know.”
“Because I love you!”
No, Suguru couldn’t let himself be damned by this. He stood his ground, after all, made his intentions clear. Suguru has no feelings for Satoru.
…
Even the silence that engulfed his room knew he was lying. A slight of guilt flickers in his eyes, before he abruptly gets up from his bed to head to the restroom.
All I need is a little time and clarity, Suguru declares to himself. The cold water that hits his face lightens him up a bit. Only a bit.
His room reeks. Not of a foul smell—of Satoru. He can still smell the hefty cologne Satoru always wore, lingering in his sheets, on his desk. Suguru moves over to the living room. The couch is stained with Satoru’s laughter and scent. Suguru bites down on his lip. No. Stop thinking about it, about him.
It doesn’t work.