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flux-sirux · 8 months ago

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When the night stripped him of his leader’s attire, when the day began to sleep, and when stillness reigned around him, Suguru always returned to the same photographs. Like every hipster teenager of the 2000s, the curse manipulator had his analog camera. A Zenit E, to be precise. Always by his side, it was his faithful companion through countless journeys around the world that his strange and curious profession took him on. Well, the camera and…him.

“A photographer is nothing without his muse,” Satoru would say flirtatiously, posing casually, his head resting on his hands, his long legs stretching nearly the full length of the bench, and his lashes, violet curtains shielding the depth of that gaze from any unworthy mortal.

Suguru lit a cigarette and studied that photograph intently. Summer or…spring? His mind blurred the intensity of the sunlight that reflected, scorching and fierce, in those eyes.

He sighed. It couldn’t be any other way, because Suguru firmly believed that Satoru’s eyes were the most captivating and bewildering thing about him. With a blue so intense it seemed to defy the laws of nature, they had an almost supernatural glow, as if they held a fragment of the sky itself or of some impossible ocean. When he looked at them up close, Suguru felt he could get lost in them—no, he could drown in them, as if those two blue abysses could pull him into another world, one where time stopped, and only they existed, sharing a truth that only their gazes could express.

“Come on, Suguru. Is it that hard to click?” Satoru would say, feigning annoyance, while he watched with satisfaction the lovestruck look his best friend wore behind the lens.

“The hard part is something else,” Suguru would mutter, trying to focus on that small pair of galaxies.

Inhale. Exhale. The smoke drifting toward those impossible eyes that stared back from the worn-out paper.

He held the photo up to the light as he lay back. There was something deeply seductive in the way Satoru looked at him, with that blend of curiosity and certainty, as if he didn’t need to say a word to make Suguru feel understood and, at the same time, completely exposed. It was a disarming gaze, light and playful on the surface, but with a latent intensity only Suguru could recognize. In those moments, when their eyes met and Satoru gave him one of those glances, part teasing, part serious, Suguru felt he could see him as he truly was, beneath all his jokes and arrogance: vulnerable, filled with secrets and shared dreams.

Someone only he could truly know.

“Come on, what could be so difficult?” Satoru would ask, opening one of his countless candies. “Do you need my help?” He would chuckle, moving closer to Suguru’s lens.

Suguru swallowed. Satoru knew exactly what he was doing. Satoru, just as he had the first time Suguru saw him, was mesmerizing him with the colors of his irises.

Clicking his tongue, Suguru set the photograph aside. It no longer made sense to think about it. He was there, and he was here. There was a reason, a purpose. No, it was best not to look at it again.

But his eyes couldn’t resist their blue call. He was always astonished by the stubbornness of those eyes, which seemed to shift hues with every emotion. Windows to an unknown universe, they could be mysterious and vibrant, yet also warm when his pupils dilated slightly, reflecting an immense affection. He knew most people felt intimidated by the intensity of that gaze, but to him, it was his refuge, his safe place.

“The hard part is capturing them,” he murmured, as his finger clicked to capture the moment.

“Why, Suguru?” Gojo whispered, pressing his unforgiving face even closer.

Suguru of that time hadn’t answered him. He couldn’t find the words. But ten years later, a longing leader caressed what remained of an image as fleeting as that spring.

“Because, beneath all your energy,” he murmured, recalling those two daring teenagers, “you looked at me like I was the only thing that mattered in the world.”

And in those moments, Suguru understood why those eyes, beyond their beauty, were the most captivating thing about him.

🧿🧿🧿-🧿🧿🧿

Art by instagram.com/may_illustman

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flux-sirux · 10 months ago

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No one ———————- ONE SHOT

With her chin resting on her left palm, Shoko Ieiri stared out the window of her office, bored. She’d have to head down to the morgue soon. There weren’t any bodies to deal with this time, but still, what a hassle! If she had known this would be her reward after six years in medical school, she never would have paid that girl to take the test for her.

But here she was. B-o-r-e-d. She started scrolling, looking for something that made sense, but it was all the same crap: pretty faces, perfect bodies, and pristine smiles.

She looked at herself in the mirror. A set of dark circles worthy of a Tim Burton muse. She touched them, trying to remember what her face looked like without them. Her eyes wandered automatically to the drawers of her desk. The first one was filled with important documents. The second held her glass, her whiskey bottle, and her spare pack of cigarettes. The third was the most infamous. And no, it didn’t contain +18 doujinshis of her OTP or the receipt for her Gentleman Studio Sesshomaru figure, but something, in her opinion, worse: remnants of her first big hobby.

She clicked her tongue and looked out the window again. Trees, old buildings, more trees. God, how much of her life had she already spent in this place?

“About seventy percent,” she said to herself, lighting a cigarette. “By all the gods, I’ve turned into Masamichi. How awful.”

She opened the window and took a deep drag from her cigarette. As she exhaled, she saw the idiot in the courtyard with Panda and Maki. He had that smirk that made him look like a smug platypus and was wearing a ridiculous white bandage. She checked the time. What were they doing out there at 11:45 PM? Probably some dumb stunt only that brain-dead head could come up with.

She was about to close the window when she heard it.

“Hey, Shoko! Wait up, I’m coming up!”

“Dammit, thirteen years with him and I still forget he has X-Men senses,” she thought, while spraying some vanilla air freshener.

Satoru kicked open her door, as usual, the big oaf.

“Long time no see! Look what I got for you.”

Gojo tossed around thirty keychains from different cities in Japan onto her desk. Shoko started massaging her temples, showing her stress.

“I don’t even want to imagine what all this junk is.”

Without an invitation, Satoru plopped down in the comfiest chair, which of course, belonged to Shoko.

“Maki and Panda called me rude for not bringing gifts, so I started bringing these.”

“I think what they meant was that you always bring delicious and fancy sweets ONLY for yourself, when you know the custom is to bring something for everyone else.”

“Nah,” Gojo said, picking his nose.

Shoko sighed.

“Fine, I don’t want them.”

“Give them to your boyfriend Ijichi then.”

“HE’S NOT MY BOYFRI…!” The sorceress interrupted herself. She didn’t have the patience to deal with the albino. “What do you want, Gojo?”

“What are you doing here at this hour?”

Shoko walked over, pulled out her whiskey bottle, and tried to move Satoru from her chair, unsuccessfully. Resigned, she flopped down on the sofa.

“Night shift. What I don’t get is what you were doing with the guys at this hour. Though, honestly, I don’t care. I just want to know why you decided to come to my office. I don’t believe for a second that all this junk is for me.”

Satoru propped his feet up on the desk.

“Your third drawer. I’ve been dying to know what’s in it.”

Shoko looked at him, confused and annoyed.

“Have you been snooping through my stuff?”

“Yep. And the third one is the only one I couldn’t open.”

Shoko stood up and threw her glass at him, knowing he’d refuse it.

“That’s why nobody can stand you!”

Satoru started laughing.

“Nanamin likes me.”

“Oh, Gojo, no one’s more delulu than you.”

“You like me too, Shoko.”

Ieiri sat back down. Sure, lately she couldn’t stand him and resented him for how he acted after Haibara’s death, but she still cared about him. How could she not? He had been one of her dearest friends. Along with the other damn guy.

She tossed him the keys to her drawer.

“Look for yourself if you dare.”

Satoru opened it with a satisfied grin, and Shoko swore his face lit up as he pulled out her things: the Polaroid, the digital camera, the analog one, and a box full of photos.

The albino started flipping through them quickly, laughing at some, making disgusted faces at others (probably the ones of Utahime), and sighing at a good number.

You didn’t have to be a Nobel Prize winner in astrophysics to guess which ones made him sigh.

Suddenly, Satoru took off the bandage. He began to examine a series of photos with attention. Shoko watched him, curious.

“What did you find?”

Satoru showed her. In the first one, he was laughing out loud. In the second, Suguru was doing the same. In the third, both of them were laughing.

“I remember the exact moment you took this.”

Spring 2006 had just begun. As usual, the number of curses had increased, and naturally, Suguru and Satoru were very busy. Not only did they have to deal with exorcising them but also planning strategies. They used to do this while walking around the academy. Suguru said it helped him think more clearly and, besides, he could be alone with Satoru without anyone bothering them.

That day, however, things felt strange, a bit heavy. Suguru noticed that Satoru was uncomfortable and very quiet.

“Don’t you have anything to add to our plan?”

The albino shook his head.

“Sure? Not even a thing? Doesn’t it bother you that I’m doing most of the exorcising?”

“No, not at all, and it doesn’t bother me.”

Suguru stopped walking. That was really odd. Satoru kept walking at a fast pace until he realized Geto had fallen behind.

“Hey, Suguru, what’s wrong, idiot?”

Geto felt offended. That was uncalled for.

“What’s wrong with you, moron? You haven’t said anything and you don’t care that I’m doing almost all the exorcising. That’s weird.” Suguru sighed and approached him. He took his shoulder affectionately. “Sorry for calling you a moron, it’s just that I don’t understand you. Are you mad?”

Satoru bit his lip. Yes, his attitude was weird, but he wasn’t mad. Or at least not at Suguru. What was bothering him was deeply related to him, but he didn’t know how to express it. He furrowed his brows and his body tensed.

Noticing his reactions, Suguru came even closer. He caressed his cheek with the back of his hand and then took his chin.

“You can tell me. That’s what I’m here for.”

“No, it’s just... the situation has put me in a bad mood.”

“Do you want me to tell you a joke?” he asked with a smile. “If I make you laugh, you’ll tell me what’s going on. Deal?”

Gojo looked at him incredulously. Suguru didn’t tell jokes. Suguru was into making lists, recounting historical facts no one cared about, and deep philosophical reflections.

“Okay. Deal.”

Puffing up his chest and pointing to the sky with his index finger, he said:

“Why did the scarecrow win an award?”

Gojo looked at him over his glasses.

“Suguru…”

“Answer, albino.”

“I don’t know. Why?”

Suguru widened his eyes and did a little pose.

“Because he was outstanding in his field!”

Satoru stared at him with his mouth open. He looked at Suguru, who was laughing by himself. That joke was terrible. So terrible it came around full circle. Suddenly, he burst into a loud laugh.

“Please, don’t quit sorcery to become a comedian,” he said, laughing.

Geto shrugged and then kissed his cheek.

“I’m not interested in doing that, unless it’s to make you laugh.”

Gojo took his hand, excited. Suguru was too good to be true. And too good for him.

“I’m angry, Suguru.”

“Why?”

Because…” Gojo took a deep breath. What he was about to say was incredibly difficult for him. “...I’m constantly thinking about you. Listen: all the time. It doesn’t leave me alone, whatever I do, your damn violet eyes, your stupid hair, and your voice come to mind. Your voice is the one that annoys me the most, you know?”

Suguru looked at him, trying to hold back a smile.

“Why, Satoru?”

“There! Right there! You say my name like the fucking Hello Kitty is speaking! It’s so sexy I don’t know what pants to wear!”

Now Geto couldn’t hold back his laughter.

“Satoru, if Hello Kitty seems sexy to you, I think I should call the police.”

Gojo rolled his eyes.

“I meant it’s like a purr, Suguru.”

Geto touched the tip of his nose with his index finger.

“And you? You say Suguru like you want to sweep my name away with a broom.”

“…the fuck does that mean?”

Suguru started laughing.

“I don’t know!” he exclaimed, hugging him.

Gojo started laughing too. He ran his fingers through Suguru’s hair, thinking that Suguru’s love was wonderfully improbable, like a flower blooming in the middle of winter, like a shooting star on a full moon night, like a black swan among a flock of white ones. And definitely, like a dream come true.

“Are you not mad anymore?” Suguru asked, taking his hand and starting to walk. In the distance, Shoko could be seen with her camera.

“You knew I’m not like your Russian authors when it comes to talking about love when you wanted to be my boyfriend, Suguru.”

Geto laughed again.

“I’m not sure it’s the best example, but…”

“And now what are you laughing about!?

“About my name being swept away with a broom and yours coming out of Hello Kitty’s mouth.”

Satoru blushed and started laughing too. Shoko approached with her camera.

“Hey! What are you two laughing about?”

Both of them stopped laughing and surrounded their friend.

“Nothing”, they said in unison. The three of them started walking.

After a few minutes, Gojo said:

“Suguru.”

Geto burst into laughter and, between laughs, said:

“Satoru.”

Both laughed until they were in tears.

Suddenly, Suguru kissed Satoru on the mouth.

”No one makes me laugh like you do. No one.”

Shoko looked at them, pretending to be disgusted. “When did they fall so much in love?” she thought as her camera clicked.

Back in the present, in Shoko’s office, a small tear ran down Satoru’s face as he remembered the earlier moment. His eyes looked strangely dim and his lips curved downwards. The sorceress, surprised by his expression and moved by her friend's story, said:

“Take it if you want.”

Gojo nodded.

“Perfect, because I have to leave. It’s getting late.”

Shoko looked at the clock. Half past twelve. Where would he have to be at this hour?

Satoru opened the door to leave, but Shoko stopped him.

“Hey, Gojo, I wanted to ask you, what’s with the bandage? Are you cosplaying as Shishio or something?

Gojo opened a chocolate bar and started munching on it before answering.

“It’s so my head doesn’t hurt as much and, in a way, to see less crap.”

“Interesting. Why didn’t you think of this before?”

The albino smiled cryptically.

“Because it was someone smarter than me’s idea”,he said, while putting the photo in his pocket.

Shoko quickly put two and two together. Of course, it had to be his idea, which only meant one thing.

“Gojo, don’t tell me that…”

”Do you really want to know?”

She lit another cigarette and refilled his glass. She didn’t want to know. That would make her an accomplice.

“Is there really no one else you’re interested in, Gojo? It’s been nine years.”

Satoru adjusted his bandage again, took a candy from his pocket, and smiled.

“No one.”

With that said, he left.

Shoko sighed and, while sitting in her chair, pondered aloud.

“When did they fall so much in love?”

———————📸📷————————-🖤🤍

Art by x.com/sad_eris23

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