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cephei-ea · 7 months ago

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The Constant (Geto)

Chapter 3

Warnings: violence and brutality, vivid descriptions of injuries, broken bones, blood, cursing, one night stand,

Genre: angst

Word count: 6.2k

╭─────────────────.★..─╮

It had been 5 months without Geto Suguru, September 27 when Shoko convinced you to go out for drinks instead of sulking in your cluttered apartment. The walk was long, it just didn’t feel like it was. Probably because you offered to go by foot as a means to clear your head, among many attempts.

September 27.

September was the month everyone always forgot was part of the summer. Everyone was always too eager to move on to Halloween. Holidays were exciting. They were even more so 5 months ago.

If you’d known last winter would be the last one you shared with Suguru, you would have cherished it more.

5 months ago, the next big thing was summer break, so everyone forgot how May was still a spring month. Not Geto. He would always take you out to enjoy the last of the cherry blossoms left in Hokkaido. He knew you all too well. In summer, he would take you to Okinawa, even on September 27, when the hot weather wouldn’t let up. Probably the last day of the heat.

The bar loomed ahead with its bright yellow lights, gleaming neon signs and the trashy smell surrounding it that Shoko swore up and down was just one of the patrons. You opened the paper door and inside was Shoko, Nanami, Utahime and two empty spaces. They all huddled beneath a strangely large kotatsu, Utahime slouched over the table with an empty shot glass raised lazily in the air for more. Shoko somehow managed to pour her nth drink, smoking yet another cigarette in her drunken stupor as her cheeks ignited with hues of red. Nanami was sorely out of place, they must have paid him a days salary to go with them. His face was deadpan, goggles removed and his tie somewhat loosened. He leaned back onto his hands and blinked slowly off into the distance, a similar pink dusting his cheeks. Beside him was one pillow on the floor, as opposed to the other four that huddled around the remaining three sides of the kotatsu. It was clearly Gojos spot, the drink and bowl dishes far too spread apart to be comfortably grabbed by anyone with shorter limbs than him. One empty spot remained at the corner of the table. An empty shot glass placed in front of it.

You calmly took your place there, feeling their eyes croon down to you as you sat.

“Hey you cutieeeee!” Utahime slurred, fingering a piece of your hair and letting it fall from her fingers.

“Hey guys. Where’s Gojo?” The rest of the bar bustled with visitors, similar kotatsus filled with friends, lovers, siblings and groups of all kinds. Suguru would have hated a place like this. You eyed Nanami as he spoke.

“He stepped outside a minute ago…. Said he needed to make a call. But I don’t know what’s taking the idiot so long.” Nanami seemed to be the only one in his right mind. Despite it being clear he was wasted out of his mind.

“Good on you Nana. Taking advantage of a Friday for once.” You praised. Nanami hardly acknowledged you, another sip of his whiskey was enough of an indicator that he was not really listening.

It was a few more hours,

maybe midnight,

before a wave of nausea hit you. It was probably the obscene amount of empty soju bottles at your side that trilled waves of sickness through your stomach. Whatever. You stood, the thick sole of your boot catching on the floor below and sending you crashing right back down the floor in your failed attempt to leave.

“Why don’t you just take a second and sit?” Nanami called after you, eyes shutting and opening back up, slow as his slurred speech. With a hand flicked through the air, you waved him off and stumbled from the bar. The sliding door was heavy, the smooth bamboo cool against the pads of your warmed fingers. The nipping cold at every inch of your exposed skin was a sharp reminder of your new reality the second you forced open the bar door.

Silence.

5 months ago, the deep rumble of the silence outside would have chilled the tips of your fingers, numbed the dull ache in the cavity of your chest and harmonized with the echo of a deep rooted void in your mind.

But today was September 27th, 5 months ago had passed 5 months ago. Today, Suguru was not at your side as you looked up at the dark gray night sky and the beginnings of snowfall dripping into the cold concrete beneath your boots. A plume of vapor rushed from your lips, eager to mix with the rest of the cold air surrounding you.

Silence.

Except it wasnt silent. You could swear, you could definitely swear that there was noise. Each snowflake trickling into the crevices of you with a ring so subtle you weren’t sure you’d even heard it, and then melting against your skin as though they were meant to be there, becoming one with you.

Melting. They were just like you. In the way they fell to their deaths from their home In the cool sky; landing on your skin as though that’s where they were always meant to be, despite the fact that it was also the place they would meet their ends within the instant of contact.

A familiar groan caught your attention. The voice was airy but deep and groggy, as it’d always been. “What’re you doing…” the grumble of his throat penetrated the otherwise silent night, a stark contrast to the gentle tinkling of snowflakes on the ground. Even the stars seemed to make a sound, the air chilly and riddled with every plume of vapor that escaped you, and Gojos. Of course it was Gojo.

“That… you can’t… pick up your phhhone.” His mumble was probably more audible than he was giving it credit for. Gojo held his phone out in front of him, dressed head to toe in black and missing his blindfold. A thick plume of vapor seethed in strings of white through his teeth, his cheeks and nose burned with red hues of cold.

Your eyes glue to his hair. It matched with the snow surrounding him, unlike the usual dark and green landscape, somewhere he always stood out.

Now, he was like a snow fox, long white eyelashes brushing his cheeks as he settled against the brick wall on his back. And then, his eyelids parted in a moment of silence and his head flipped to the side, his eyes softening when they met yours. He pushed off against the wall, his posture wobbling as he went.

One, two, three and then twelve steps and he was standing before you once again.

Gojo Satoru, the strongest man alive, was standing in front of you in a drunken haze, his back curled with exhaustion and his lips chapped and red from the snow. “There you are.”

<<<

ELABORATE ON SURROUNDINGS ANS SETTING

“There you are.” Suguru whispered, voice airy and rich like music to your ears.

Your lips fell from their smile as you exchanged words with Gojo, the plaza around you buzzing with chatter and activity of people shopping, likely for Christmas or for the new year. Suguru’s face held a strange look of forced content as he quietly approached the two of you. It was a look he often gave when someone was irritating him, but he was trying to remain polite as always. His thin eyes flitted between you and Gojo for a moment before the two of you were smiling.

“Suguru!” Gojo moaned as if he was responsible for all the inconveniences in his life. “That damn liquor store is closed again! Can you believe this, huh!? I mean isnt the point of selling-“ the rest of his endless banter was but a muffled jumble of complaints when Suguru’s thin eyes snapped over to you. Your best friend ignored Gojo bitching on his shoulder, only to direct every ounce of his attention to the curve of your eyes and then down to the shape of your body in the uniform you wore.

“I mean can they seriously not even-“ Geto interrupted Gojos rant by shrugging him off his shoulder and stepping closer to you, the faded scent of his cologne finally permeating the air around you.

Suguru came with an electric air that stifled any sense of self control or composure you convinced yourself you had. As he always did. His eyes pierced yours deeper with every second that they remained stuck to you, lighting every nerve in your body on fire and causing a sheen of moisture to protrude from your skin.

“Let’s go. We were supposed to go to that store you like, weren’t we?” His voice was filled with kindness and warmth, but his expression betrayed every note of it. And then he was taking your hand in his tough one and gently pulling you away from Gojo, not leaving you any time to hear his complaints as you retreated from the cold outside and into Suguru’s car.

Upon sitting in his passenger seat, which was plastered on the dashboard with rhinestones that spelled your name, Suguru shut your door behind you and made for the drivers side. He was finally sitting down and pressing the ignition to life when a tense silence fell between you.

Silence was never uncommon between the two of you, never with Suguru Geto, a man who was able to pull smiles and giggles and conversation from you as though he’d been doing it his whole life. Suguru who never minded a bit of silence, and always has managed to bleed his comfort in it, onto you.

“Sugu.” Your voice was warm and soothing as you reached across the console for the back of his neck, feeling the tension and hardened muscles beneath his bun. “What’s wrong?” It was times like these, as he titled his head back into your palm and heaved a quiet sigh of relaxation, that you wanted to finally reveal to him all the emotions you kept pent up behind your lips. Those lips he wanted to kiss so badly, those lips that itched to run down his neck and spill words of love and adoration for him. Still, after years of loving Suguru, you figured the unshakable friendship you’d fought to build with him, might prove not so mighty if you were to reveal how much you loved him since the age of 12.

So then, as his head turned to you and his lazy eyes lugged up to yours, he said the words he swore he would keep behind closed doors forever.

“Don’t get so comfortable with that twink.” He teased, ever in attempt to remain stoic. His voice and the words that carried it to you ran red against your cheeks and heated the lower half of your abdomen. You opened your mouth to speak, furrowing your brows in confusion, but instead what left you was a short groan of confusion.

It may must have been a spur of confidence and unrelenting hope that drove you to speak with a challenge in lieu of an attitude.

“Gojo???” Smooth waves of satisfaction and longing slipped from your scalp to the tips of your toes, over and over again. “Why?” And then Suguru, large and lithe as he sat behind the wheel of his Centenario, tilted to your arm trapped behind his head and pressed his lips gently, barely a touch, against your wrist, his eyes hooded and dark with desire that you rarely were blessed enough to see.

“Because I’m selfish.” Sparks alighted in your stomach so aggressively at that, and the trailing of his lips along your perfumed wrist, and also an amalgamation of every aspect of stimulation being in this situation. So much so that you were sure if you hadn’t looked away in that very moment, you may have made a mess of his expensive passenger seat. And of your platonic relationship with him thus far.

>>>

“Satoru.” You spoke. It was acknowledgement of his existence, rather than a greeting. Gojo was always rowdy when he was drunk, causing unnecessary drama in the lives of anyone unfortunate enough to encounter him. He was destructive. What you didn’t expect was for this night to be the exception. He wasn’t disruptive, or particularly dramatic when he approached you. You wondered how long he’d been outside; his nose and the skin of his cheeks dusted with a cold layer of red. When he was drunk, Gojo was never quiet, never calm, never troubled. What caught you by surprise was the profound melancholy enthralling his irises with and emotion you could identify as exhaustion.

“I’m sorry. I know this isn’t… what you wante-… this isn’t easy for you. You worked so hard to keep all of our lives together.” his words were slurred, and his voice groggy, likely a result of the late night and alcohol he surely had not put down in hours. “Please just… stop being sad, yeah? Please? Feels like ‘m watching it all again ‘n I can’t do anything bout it..” The usual bright and blinding blue of his eyes were uncharacteristically dull and lacked the electricity that made them so distinctly illuminating. It was a look of desperation that you never thought you would never see on a man so powerful. Not on him. Not Satoru.

“Shoko made me realize… made me realize. You can ask anythin’ of me.. I can fight any curse f’r you… but i can’t fight this.” You never expected to hear a tremble in Satorus voice, never him. Never in him would you await the sudden break in his voice that came with his trembling. “‘Feel powerless. This title, it-“ and then his face was buried in his palms, his back hunched forward in a drunken daze. “Means nothing if I can’t fight this f’r you. Couldn’t fight it for Suguru either.”

It was infuriating. It shouldn’t have been, really. But the way Satoru grieved for you as though you were already too far gone, putting you on the same level as the man you’d fought bone and blood to escape, ran rivers of anger through your body.

So your arms hooked beneath his and fought to hoist him to his feet, and upright.

“Get up.” It was more of an attempt at a demand than a successful order. “Get up!!” Gojos feet stumbled beneath his weight as he stood. The floor was far too slimy with mushy snow, and before long, he was giving up and allowing his body to slump upon the floor and the brick wall. Satoru was heavy, head fallen and the shine of his positive air now vanished, a shallow remainder of the man you were accustomed to.

The snow was cold; winter was cold. It was clear to you now as you stood before the slumped Satoru, hopeless and desperate, that the late months of the year never felt so cold, so empty, so lifeless. It was clear to you now that if you’d known the previous winter would be your last by his side, you would have held Suguru tighter, kissed him deeper and relished in him longer. It was clear to you now the difference between this moment and those from back then, with him. The street lamp had changed from warm and dim to yellow and dull. The snow changed from nipping and exhilarating to bone-chilling and uncomfortable. The silence changed from inviting and healing, to loud and tense. You were reminded that winter is supposed to be cold.

<“Sugu, I never want to leave here…”>

You wanted nothing more than to leave. This place no longer welcomed you like it once did. It no longer insighted joy and familiarity like once before, and instead it singed the blood in your veins like a painful reminder of all the things you would never have again.

A dry sob wracked through you, deep, guttural and gently hinging your body forward as though you were going to allow yourself to vomit. “You…”

<“YOU SHOULD HAVE STOPPED HIM-“>

“You need to stop this.” Was all the advice you could offer him. Sorceress and all, Satorus body was far too heavy for one person to casually haul away. “Gojo get up for fucks sake, you’re being such a…” and then the tears were back, this time, with a vengeance that brought frustration and anger. “Such a prick!” But of course the man wouldn’t budge, and you were falling to your heels on the floor beside him.

___

It was dark when your vision began swimming. The amount of people surrounding you in sweaty bodies and breath that smelled of tequila was… well a lot, given that you were at a club. Your dress ran higher up your thighs with every movement you made out on that slippery dance floor. The shots must have been hitting at once now. The sudden pang of nausea and confidence that coarser through you being a sign among many: like Gojos face in front of you beginning to morph and split into duplicates of itself.

Or maybe that was just the scorching heat that emanated from your body. If you didn’t burn up and die of heatstroke now, you surely would later tonight. By the way that sexy stranger from across the dance floor was glued at the eyes to yours, and the strange intrigue you felt towards his appearance, the chances that you leave that club alone were slim to none. His hair was to his shoulders and a color of jet black that reminded you of the ocean of night that the moon swam in, his eyes were brown like the soil beneath the plants at your favorite dam, and his skin was a pale color of peach that reminded you of the flowers you received with sickening consistency.

“Suguru?”

You weren’t sure how long it had been since you arrived, or how many margaritas deep you were. But like always, the club worked wonders as a vice for your temporary comfort. However drunk you were, it was enough that for a while, it’d even felt relieving to push up against Satoru and feel the flex of his hands around your waist.

For some reason, however, nights ike these where you showed yourself to end drunk half to sleep always ended in another delirious haze of your mind wandering to Suguru Geto and anchoring every capacity for fun you had to the obstacle that was the idea of him frowning at you.

What would Suguru think if he saw you here, now? As you threw your ass back onto his best friend and allowed the equally blasted sorcerer to glide his hands along the sides of your body, only to immediately lock eyes with yet another hot single across the room?

He’d be livid.

Not just livid, but disappointed beyond belief. Strangely enough, Suguru was always the tame, rational side in your relationship, and in you.

So it was the idea of disappointing the love of your life that drove you to push harshly away from Satoru. His body stumbled backwards in a pull of confusion, his pale skin colored with red and thrumming with alcohol that rid him of his abilities to act rationally. Your body wobbled as it parted from your friends, but you did not waste a moment before you were stalking to the exit. You shouldn’t be here.

This wasn’t for you, this had never been for you. You needed to be at home, with Suguru, and having a late night heart to heart with him and movies and takeout, not wasting away your remaining youth in an exorbitant club out in the middle of the city he sought to destroy.

Your thoughts and fears of disappointing Suguru consumed you so that not even the sound of heavy boots walking up behind you broke you from your trance as you breathed in the beginnings of cool air into your lungs.

<<<

Geto’s boots were heavy in landing when they met the ground, a steady force of dangerous aura that loomed towards your turned body with every second. To you, however, that presence was one of comfort and home, it brought excitement and a flutter in the pit of your abdomen that had you turning quickly to meet Geto as he approached you.

Of course, he was smiling when he met you at the edge of the dam you stood in front of. Keniko Dam was beautiful this time of year, the still water reflected the winter moon like an uneven mirror, the air smelled of pine, soil and the cold, and the chilly air slid down your skin like a calming blanket.

Perhaps, you thought, you never wanted to leave here. This moment when you were free to be yourself, on a mundane date with the man your heart resided within. This moment when Geto was beautiful; breathtaking as he always was. His jet black waves of silken hair ran like black water down his expanse of a back, his tight purple eyes seduced you with ease and the veins and power that coursed through his hands swayed you against his chest like he wouldn’t let another soul near yours. Like he wouldn’t allow so much as a sour gaze in your direction, and like he would burn anyone who dared near you.

You loved it.

“Hi, my beautiful girl.” And oh, the cheesiness of his pick up lines reeled you in like a middle school girl hitting puberty.

>>>

“I’m sorry?” Suguru The man in front of you spoke then. The one from across the dance floor. The tall one with the long, jet black hair and the thin eyes and a muscular frame. He didn’t receive a response, so he was awkward as he glanced around and then held out his hand as friendly as he could given your hazey eyes and slurred speach. “My name is null. Saw you and I…” the man named… whatever his name was shrugged and smirked suggestively. “Couldn’t pass up the chance to talk to you, yknow?” He was attractive, you thought in your drunken haze. When was Suguru ever not? Strangely, he did seem a bit thinner, a bit shorter. But you were drunk so you must have been seeing things. And you tried to convince yourself of that, tried telling yourself that it was the alcohol, that Suguru really was here. Because for a moment before you could meet the color of his irises with yours and before his scent reached you, he had been.

For a few moments, seeing this man who had a similar look to Suguru allowed you to tell yourself it really was him, that he’d come here for you because he knew you were here. And when this cologne did not register as Suguru’s, his voice did not sound like Suguru’s and his build did not match Suguru’s, it became suddenly very blatant and painful that null was, in fact, not Suguru. You knew that.

So, why, you thought as you sat upon his spread legs and allowed him to fill you later that night, did you let yourself get into this situation? His thighs were thin and his skin was ashy beneath you with every time that your ass met his lap, and all of his moans sounded more like cries for help. For the brown haired man with green eyes and a thin frame beneath you, you felt nothing. He was scrawny with a flimsy low pony that rode the nape of his neck like a thin rope. He was no match for the Geto Suguru, 2nd strongest sorcerer and home to the most lethal looks, strength and body you’d ever laid eyes on. Because realistically, you thought as null gripped your hips and thrusted into you at a mediocre pace, how could you blame him for not marching up to Suguru? That was an impossible feat and an entirely unreasonable expectation. Still, before your drunken haze had worn off it was easy to go along with this; he resembled the features of your love in the first place.

But null did not have the sharp nose that Suguru had, did not have his thin and pensive eyes, did not have his smooth lips, did not have his great height or his thick set of muscles that could handle you with ease. And null did not make you feel at home, or as though your life was complete. Instead, as you realized mid-fuck, he made you feel sick to your stomach. Being here made you feel sick. The memories of Suguru you had in this bed made you feel sick. The feel of his filthy touch was sickening. You didn’t want this. You didn’t want anything else but to be by his side, regardless of what he was doing at yours.

Still while those thoughts were fairly fleeting, ultimately there was a stranger 4 inches deep in you, you were drunk beyond belief, and it was just a little too easy to forget all the reasons to kick him out right now.

You really should have. You really, really should have kicked out null in that short moment of self awareness. Because while you lost your inhibitions, you also lost all reason, and managed to fall asleep beside the stranger. As soon as you realized you wouldn’t truly be satisfied, you flopped down beside the drunkard and knocked out like a shattered lamp. It was over from then on, because null decided to stay. Null decided of his own volition that staying at your home and taking over Suguru’s the empty side of the bed was a decision he could make. So he did.

And when you woke up to the sound of the doorbell, dread washed over you in cold waves of ice cold water. Perhaps, those chills came more from the fact that you knew exactly what the sound of the doorbell was.

What it always was.

Every Sunday morning by 11am there was a fresh bouquet of flowers at your door step. The colored ones, the ones you liked.

The ones Suguru knew you liked; and was still sending on purpose, trying to get in your head. Or your bed. Probably both.

It was awful to think of how many bouquets you’d had to throw away, how many had rotted away on your dining table without a single vase of water. That table had become a cemetery for all the flower batches you’d receive, their final resting place. Given, they all died quickly, just as your attempts to save them did.

You weren’t sure if it was right to feed and water them.

You weren’t sure if it was right by the flowers, or if it was a disservice to yourself.

You weren’t sure if it would solidify your secret hope to keep some part of Suguru with you.

They all were too painful to look at, much less to touch to more than just move them. That dining room table where you would sit with Suguru and together eat the meal you’d prepared, and he would talk as though there were still millions of topics to cover between you two.

You probably should have gone to pick up the flowers when they arrived and you received the ring at the door.

You couldn’t. Not again. Not anymore. It hurt to look at them, spreading dread through your veins like poison. Like a depression, like an illness that was growing from your table and despite how you tried, you couldn’t bring yourself to clean up because of how your gut wrenched every time you looked at them.

So null woke up finally, though only after you had shoved him off the bed to rouse him. He immediately stood in shock, quick to grab his boxers from the floor and awkwardly dress himself. He looked about as though he’s been hit by a bus and riddled with amnesia. Then, the stranger rubbed his eyes with his balled up fists and tousled his hair.

“Hey…” he tried a smirk, and a forced deep voice that sounded more like a rusty door hinge.

“Get out of my apartment.” And then the doorbell was ringing again, twice in a row this time and with the strange urgency of someone growing impatient. You glanced in the direction of your bedroom door for a moment before grabbing a pillow from your bed and hauling it at the thin man across the mattress from you. He blocked it, caught it and gently put it down. “Get out! Why would you sleep here!? Did you not get the hint that that was supposed to be a one time thing!?” And then the doorbell was ringing again. The flower delivery man must have gotten fed up with the piles of flowers outside your door. You refused to fix the issue, and were shocked that null did not bolt the moment he saw it. “I’m coming!!” For fucks sake, what kind of delivery man rang the bell four times within 30 seconds.

“Wow someone wants to come in here. I figured from the flowers piling up outside. What’s that about anyways?” The twinge of entitlement that laced his words made lava pour down your spine, so instead of speaking with the man, you threw him his shirt and left the room and made for the door.

Among all of the possibilities and all the hopes you had for who may be at the door in that moment, Geto Suguru was surely not one of them. When the pungent smell of jasmine permiated every pore of you body, you felt Suguru making his way into it as well. That huge bouquet of jasmine flowers with twinges of gold and purple made all the oxygen in your body escape. You could no longer remember that there was a strange man in your room, that you were half naked, that there were an embarrassing amount of bouquets strewn across the carpet and that is Suguru took even two steps into your apartment, he would see null, and then you would never see null again. Only in the afterlife would you meet the bastard again, because if Suguru saw him, you were afraid of his reaction. But then, his presence alone was enough to wipe your mind clean of any useful knowledge. Suguru eyed you down from above, his thin eyes extracting the strength from your limbs with every second. You felt the world wobble beneath you when he took a silent but heavy step into your apartment, pushing your body backward. His left boot followed, landing like a mallet into the hollow apartment. His large hand slid atop yours, his fingers sliding between yours and taking over to shut the door behind him. The bouquet had fallen to his side, slowly slipping and falling with a gently crinkle to the floor beside you.

You were losing your mind. It had gotten so bad— your delirium had gotten so bad that you were losing your mind. Suguru Geto was in front of you, wrapping his arm slowly around your waist and pulling you closer to him, his fingers wandering as they stretched down to your ass and then to the side of your waist.

It was heaven.

It was liquid gold dripping down your skin.

It was warm water in every inch of skin he touched.

“Took you long enough.” He spoke, his voice gravelly and deep and dripping in fire that ignited in your tummy. And then you knew this was real.

It was real and amazing and perfect until null exited your bedroom with bed head and smelling of you. Then, it was awful. It was awful and terrible and bad and you felt sick as you watched Suguru’s grip slowly fall loose and he stood upright to stare at the man leaning on your doorway.

Geto Suguru was angry in the split second it took him to process what was happening. He slowly and quietly removed himself from you before turning entirely to null and digging his short nails into his palms.

His fists were balled tightly, a pinch formed between his brows and his lungs working like he had just worked out.

“Suguru. Wait.” You tried, stepping beside him and grabbing his arm. He shoved you away in an instant, placing both his hands over his face and aggressively rubbing them up and down his eyes and then his mouth.

“Woah, big guy. This was casual, swear to god we’re not even together.” Null placed his hands in the air and quietly backed into the room. “What? That your boyfr-“

“Shut up, holy fuck! Shut the fuck up and get out-“ you screamed at the stranger, facing Suguru and trying to push him into the living room.

But those words set lava in Suguru’s chest, and he was crossing the room like he was moving without thought, every step loud through the silence beating through the room. Every ounce of pain, every word he never said, exploded into a parade of fury; his eyes never tore away from null. The stranger stumbled helplessly to his feet from where he’d lost his strength, a rope of fear and dread writhing around in his irises until he was crawling beneath the bed and scrambling away from Suguru.

But the pounding of his boots never ceased and then Suguru was bending at the knees, torso leaned forward between his powerful legs as he reached beneath the bed.

“Suguru stop!!!” The floor was more slippery than usual, and your feet gave out against the shiny hard floor, sending you to the ground with a hard thud as you attempted to intervene. If not for null, then for Suguru yourself. The sepia wood below strung a wave of pressure through your chest, shuddering the shaky air from your esophagus and knocking your pupils up and behind your eyelids.

Suguru’s muscled arms stretched beneath the bed and his lithe fingers reached for null as he scrambled backward too. little too slow.

His hands curled around the flimsy collar of his white t shirt and violently dragged the shorter man from beneath your bed frame, only the stitching and the very collar of his shirt surviving the way Suguru’s fingers dug into the material. The material shredded apart around his fingers, falling away from the remainder of his tough collar as it wrapped around his neck like a noose. Suguru forced the man’s body closer to him, releasing him as his feet hit the ground and winding his right arm back.

A sickening crack alighted the room, Suguru’s fist rocking against nulls jaw and leaving blood, saliva, and a deformed jaw in its wake. Null fell hard to the bed, a scream ripping its way through his throat and his hand coming to cradle his jaw, now displaced in its entirety to the right. Blood dripped from his mouth, seeping its way into your white sheets and staining every layer it touched, what would soon become a heart throbbing reminder of this day.

5 seconds.

5 seconds later, you watched from the floor, trying to catch your breath as Suguru reached into nulls short hair, every muscle in his exposed arm seeming to groan with strain as he forced the man’s body closer from off your bed and slammed his back against the floor.

Another crack reverberated through your room as he hit the floor. The force of Suguru’s push so intense that he was left with an injured back upon impact and he punished you with a broken floor that splintered up around nulls torso. Sugurus hulking form faced away from you as he took one, two slow steps toward null.

One, and then two knees hit the floor as his hard body fell atop null’s.

One, and then two more sickening cracks when his fists bled against null’s temples.

One, and then two broken fingers when Suguru angered further following a few scratches by null left against his arm. The scratches didn’t bleed, but null did, and now his fingers bended in directions unheard of, Suguru’s fingers sliding down to his elbow and aiming again to snap it in the one direction it refused to bend.

Screams.

Who was screaming louder at this point? You or null?

You weren’t sure. What you were sure about was that Suguru was going to kill the man in front of him, If you didn’t move.

Still, as you watched the love of your life sickeningly brutalize your last booty call, the world spun, your feet hurt and your knees gave out from beneath you.

Stomach.

Suguru opted next to stand, bringing null with him by a vice grip around the neck.

Twist.

Null’s eyes met yours, eyes red and circled by smears of blood. “SUGURU STOP IT!!”

Bile.

Suguru paused in an instant, his entire six foot frame freezing mid strangle. Black boots shifted without meeting the air, his eyes wide and riddled with electric wrath, lips tight and unmoving, his jaw clenched so tightly, you swore his head trembled with anger. When he met your eyes, they softened, immediately releasing null and ignoring the way his body fell from three feet in the air to the splintered wood below, a dull thud sounding from behind him as he stepped toward you.

╰─..★.─────────────────╯

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