Chapter Text
Satoru huffs and grumbles a curse as he fusses around with the rusty latch before finally managing to wrest the window open, climbing inside the living room and landing in a messy heap of fabric, cheap plastic, and lanky limbs.
“We really need to get that rust-removing stuff,” he mutters lowly as he clambers up to his feet and dusts off his skirt. He scowls for a brief moment at the intruding rays of moonlight before reaching out to close the window.
He’s rather unlucky tonight though, as the hinges creak nastily before snapping shut with a decisive—and somewhat vindictive—ugly thing of a noise more akin to a crash than anything else.
There’s an odd noise in response from the bedrooms, causing Satoru to wince and discretely voice another low curse as he flaps his hands rudely about the window before silently darting over to the first bedroom on the left, poking his head in.
“Suguru? Did I wake you?”
Luckily enough, the only reaction he receives is the soft shifting of a paper against a desk and a pencil falling to the ground as Suguru grumbles in his sleep and moves his head from left cheek smushed against manufactured wood to right cheek smushed against crumpled, ink-marked papers.
Ooh, Suguru’s soooo pretty, he thinks with all the gaiety of an ebullient little fairy as he fights back a real-to-life giggle and smile, watching Suguru smack his lips before flopping over again and unconsciously mussing up his hair even further. He’s never looked gorgeous.
He scampers noiselessly into the room, picking up a stray sweatshirt and worming his arms and head through its holes—a simple precaution in case Suguru wakes up, wouldn’t want Suguru to spot his secret outfit after all.
“Good night, Suguru,” he whispers as he gently reaches over to slide a pillow under Suguru’s head and drape a blanket over him. It’s the least he can do to make him comfortable after all the times Suguru’s complained in the morning of back and neck pain. He finishes off with a big fat smooch right along where Suguru’s hair would bunch up into that funny little thing of a lock he calls bangs and then makes his grand, but still soundless, exit.
It’s been a very good night, all things considered. An excellent night even. Three couples matched, he lived another night without that dratted window exposing his identity to the one and only Geto Suguru, and above all, his list is empty. All of his backlogged wishes have been fulfilled, as of now. The only thing he could have asked for was to finish earlier so he could finish his homework, but beggars can’t be choosers.
“Finally done with this week's roster,” Satoru hums cheerfully as he takes off each item of his outfit, carefully and methodically before hanging them up and laying them to their secret rest.
White sleeveless blouse with an adorable, big hot pink ribbon complete with a bejeweled heart-shaped brooch. Pleated mini skirt with hot pink trim and ruffles. Ruffles! A bigger pink bow for the back of the skirt matched with a puffy white belt. Tall pink boots with short heels and white trimming. These cute little heart-shaped hairclips with little angel wings as they call them flanking each side. A very lightweight, thick plastic thing of a wand with a big ol’ heart on top to complete the set.
The wand is completely useless, of course, but it seems to complement his outfit completely and it does help tie together the entire image, especially when he reveals himself to someone and needs to actually convince him he’s a real-to-life cupid—something he very sadly has to do on the rare occasion, as people usually accuse him of being a mad cosplayer or the like. Though that anyone even sees him at all is a rare enough occasion in itself.
It also so happened that the wand was part of the set, so he had to buy it anyhow. Not that he’s complaining.
Satoru still gets excited every once in a while, remembering how superb it was to get everything in a single set—humans really have the most remarkable things they sell. He finds the funniest little knickknacks at the thrift shop sometimes, always fun to bring those home and see how Suguru reacts to the newest addition to their little home.
It’s past two when he gets all his affairs in order, and so it is with much relief and greater jubilation that he shinnies up into his bed, sighing contentedly as he pulls the covers right up to the crook under his chin.
Maybe tomorrow there’ll be someone especially interesting to listen to.
-
Here’s the thing about Gojo Satoru: he’s only been here for five years.
By here, he doesn’t just mean this university. He means here here. The great majestic planet they call Earth.
The system is an odd, funny little thing that Satoru isn’t entirely aware of most days and really isn’t something he particularly cares to know the inner workings of. All that he can say on its operations really is that it’ll—they’ll—send people like him out into the big, bright, wide world to work magic on people.
By people, he means the ones wishing for love. The yearners! The forlorn. The ones mooning over the sight of a happy couple hand in hand. The ones wondering what it’s like to go beyond kith and kin and have a relationship built around love in the romantic. L-O-V-E.
As the magical boy cupid extraordinaire, it is his supreme and wonderful duty to help these poor sods find the wishy-washy mushy wushy love they so desire. And to be fair, he too feels wishy-washy mushy wushy at the sight of a love well-bloomed—he was born a cupid, after all.
“Satoru, did you sleep late again? And don’t like to me—I can literally see how bloodshot your eyes are from here.”
“But Suguru!” he whines, “a new set of songs released on Project Sekai last night, I had to try them out.”
“And?” Suguru blearily raises a disbelieving eyebrow at him as he shuffles fully into the kitchen, making a disdainful sort of noise as he observes Satoru’s peppy mood and casual breakfast of konpeitou drowning in milk. Suguru looks especially handsome in the morning lighting—it’s the way the semi-golden rays frame him. “That’s no excuse—literally not even permissible on a non-school day. And don’t eat that stuff either, you’ll get diabetes.”
“But it tastes good and it looks so pretty,” Satoru says petulantly as he pokes at the multi-colored sugar stars. “Suguru, you can allow it just this once, and you know it does give me all the energy I’ll need the entire day.”
Suguru simply glances over at him tiredly as he pops a piece of toast into their ratty old toaster. “You need protein and proper nutrients and fibers. People eat three meals for more reasons than just energy. But dumping a whole bowl is wasteful so enjoy your last bowl of make-pretend sugar cereal while you can.”
“You’re the best,” Satoru croons before slurping up the entire mess of now pastel-hued milk and sugar candies.
Satoru’s been enjoying life of late. Regular old magical boy by night—uni student by day! It’s a fun life to be had, though admittedly he’d have a tougher time of things if he didn’t have the sort of friend Suguru is.
University is an unforgiving environment, especially for a person who quite literally has no knowledge of the world, earthly matters, people—social dynamics, power hierarchies, jealousies, passing trends, even more transient standards. But being a cupid, unfortunately, means having to navigate all these little intricacies, day and night. Nighttime is his own personal hell to wade through, but at least with Suguru daytime is manageable—even enjoyable.
“If people can eat cereal and stuff and pass it off as a regular breakfast why can’t I eat my konpeitou and get a pass? It’s literally the same thing. Little round things floating in milk. Delicious all the same, mine’s just better.”
“Cereal actually makes use of cereal?” Suguru crunches loudly on his toast; he always seems to toast it perfectly. “By cereal, I mean the grain crops, not the entire breakfast food. Grains have nutrients, but konpeitou’s sugar, sugar, and more sugar. You will get diabetes.”
Suguru seems to have some knowledge that Satoru…doesn’t quite know the same things everyone else does. That the internet isn’t a sentient repository of information so you really don’t have to say ‘please’ when looking up questions—though this has manifested in his everyday speech in an apparently rude habit of not saying please at all.
That degrees and the like are actually quote-unquote needed to get anywhere in life. That certain people don’t want love at all and some indulge greatly in it and others just prefer love in other forms. That the human body needs stuff like proteins and minerals and fats and so—proper eating habits.
“Diabetes, shmiabetes.” Satoru smacks his lips loudly and sets the bowl against the counter, smiling as the rim clacks loudly against the chipped, tiled formica. “Wake up earlier tomorrow and I’ll eat your boring toast.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
“Suit yourself then. I’ve got to head to class now, you coming with?”
Satoru frowns to himself as he quickly ducks into his room and grabs his pre-prepared assortment of clothes for the day, scurrying into the bathroom as he mulls.
“You go on ahead,” he eventually shouts as he wrests his favorite—but finicky—tiger-printed polyester long-sleeved shirt over his head. “I’ve got to check in with Shoko real quick before first class.”
“Didn’t do your homework last night?” Suguru shouts back. “Satoru, the least you could do is finish your homework if you’re going to stay up—or even just finish it since you have the time to stay up so late, for goodness’ sake.”
“Yeah yeah yeah, I’ll be my own death.” Satoru eyes his clothing heap with a critical eye. He pops his head out of the bathroom. “Floral shirt or no?”
“Let me see.” Suguru peers at him thoughtfully as Satoru fully exits the bathroom, spins around in a quick, tight little circle, and then waits. “Couldn’t find your Hawaiian shirt?”
“Out in the wash.”
“The flower t-shirt is fine then.”
“Sweet.” Satoru quickly throws on the shirt over his tiger-print, focusing his attention on buttoning it up as he listens to Suguru's retreating footsteps. “See you around campus then? Lunch break at thirteen?”
“Mhm, see you then, Satoru.”
“Bye!” Satoru blows a kiss out towards the door as he watches Suguru slip on his shoes and exit. Suguru doesn’t turn to look back at him, but he waves back in return and rubs at the side of his head as if he can feel the kiss grazing his temple.
The moment the last of Suguru’s heavy tread escapes his auditory field, Satoru immediately scuttles off into his room, grabs his notebook, and then seats himself real nice and comfy on the couch with his favorite blanket and the TV blasting Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon Crystal, Dark Kingdom Episode “Masquerade Dance Party” on full volume (he thinks the outfits are cute and all the love is even cuter).
One thing Suguru told him was that diaries were sacred little inviolable spaces, never ever to be infringed upon for the deepest of secrets might be stored within them.
“Ever tried writing in a diary? No? Keeping a diary might be a good idea for you, Satoru. I’m sure there are things you can’t share with anyone—including me. But it’s nice to be able to voice them nonetheless. It’s always a good feeling to have your thoughts in order.”
Suguru’s so, so smart—it’s so cool. Satoru thinks with no small amount of pride for his best friend as he gets out a flimsy little key and unlocks the cheap, but hardy lock. His diary is quite thick by now, what with all the extraneous bits of papers and notes he adds in from the day, but the cover remains intact with its clean-shining plastic and thickly sharpied, blocky text reading “GOJO SATORU’S SECRET DIARY :3333.”
He flips through the stiff, long-loved pages, trying to find an empty one to start the month off with.
“Kamo Choso and Tsukumo Yuki—success last month. Fushiguro Toji and Kong Shiu—massive fail. Zenin Mai and Takada Nobuko—results debatable for erroneous reasons. Muta Kokichi and Miwa Kasumi—perfect match just last night! Ah—up to date.”
Satoru hums a peppy little love song he heard on the radio just the other night as he whips out his pen, marking the top of the page. December’s Cupiding Adventures—List of Matches.
He evenly divides the page in two and scribbles some more titles. Wishes Heard + Name on the left. Possible Matches on the right. This method has stuck with him since day one, tried and true.
“This is gonna be sooooo fun,” he croons as he shoves the notebook into his backpack along with a stray textbook and a couple of odd snacks. “December—a month of love! Christmas is right around the corner too, truly a time for romance.”
Satoru sighs to himself dreamily as he draws a little doodle on his and Suguru’s shared whiteboard as he makes his way to the door—a chibified figure of Suguru with a cat-ish sort of face and a little text cloud above him reading “ON THE TWENTY FORTH DAY OF CHRISTMAS MY TRUE LOVE BROUGHT TO ME TWENTY-FOUR POUNDS OF MOCHI!”
He smiles briefly at the fruits of his labor before donning his favorite pair of hot pink crocs and leaving their shared dorm room, locking the door soundly behind him and starting off towards his first class of the first of December.
Maybe he’ll get down a couple of names before lunch with Suguru.
December truly is fortuitous, as Satoru now so grandly believes as he admires the fresh ink adorning his notebook, seated at his and Suguru’s favorite cafe to hang out at, this side of campus.
Itadori Yuuji. Fushiguro Megumi. Kugisaki Nobara. All—as it so happens—are his cute little juniors.
“Such cute wishes, the lot of them,” Satoru guffaws as he reads their thoughts verbatim for the fifth time in the past hour.
As it goes, Satoru’s amazing cupid abilities all hinge upon one ability in particular: to hear wishes of love. They’ll come as whispered sighs sometimes; exuberant, still naive and yet nonetheless giddy crushes; bittersweet, pessimistic laments. Whatever they are, it’s Satoru’s job here in this part of Tokyo to gather them up, record them, and work his magic come the passage of midnight.
“Yuuji-kun’s so cute, haha. ‘He’s got such nice eyelashes and wow…that smile.’ Kind of hard to work with, but I’ll make do with things.” Satoru thumbs at his nose absently as he jots down a note next to Yuuji’s entry. Is in love with a pretty boy.
The only true issue with Satoru’s line of work is that it does necessitate a substantial work of detective work, which in turn means a comprehensive knowledge of the university’s social schemes. This is usually why some of his cases can take weeks upon months to work out, which is why last night was such a point of exhilaration.
Though at times he isn’t quite able to suss out the true recipient of ardent affections, haha. If he’s lucky, a mismatched couple will find love anyway, but it’s rather rare. He only receives the purest, true wishes of love after all—hard to transmogrify such feelings.
“Hmm, Megumi-chan’s gonna be a tough one. He only really hangs around Yuuji and Nobara and those second-year undergrads…’Way too fucking kind to be real and loves animals—holy shit.’ Holy shit indeed, Megumi-chan. You’re giving me nothing to work with.”
“Got something interesting you’re working on, Satoru?”
“Suguru!” Satoru cheers as he looks up from his table, smoothly closing up his notebook and plopping it into his backpack. “Just diary things—c’mon, you won’t believe what I’ve heard today.”
“I’m sure it’s quite interesting,” Suguru laughs as his visage becomes more visible, fully approaching the table. He stops some yards away, smiling fondly at the sight of Satoru simultaneously sipping at a latte absolutely drenched in whipped cream and various syrups and poking ruthlessly at the cover of his “diary.”
“Suguru, sit down already! Time’s a wasting and I’ve got a lot to tell you.”
“Yeah yeah, in one moment.” Suguru smiles at him again, but deeper this time—in a way that crinkles the skin of his outer canthus, a way Satoru knows will live on in wrinkles in a much older Suguru. Satoru waits and observes as he watches Suguru chuckle lightly to himself and look up to the sky, as if privy to some joke known to him and him alone.
—And then it comes.
Maybe someday I’ll confess my love, but that day won’t ever come soon.
Oh.
Oh.
Satoru feels his jaw drop open as he positively gawks at Suguru. There’s a ringing steadily building up in his ears, and he’s half-aware that he must have dropped his cup, judging by Suguru’s sudden tinny shouts of alarm and the smell of sickly sweet coffee permeating the air.
Suguru’s in love with someone? He thinks dimly. He needs time to process this. Suguru, the most beautiful and competent person he knows, the smartest and most good person he has ever had and ever will have the fortune to meet, has fallen in love.
His best friend, his first friend, his first confidante, his one and only best friend in the whole wide world, and the universe beyond is in love with someone. Not crushing, not infatuated, not harboring a misunderstood admiration—an actual, genuine cultivation of a feeling that which they call love. L-O-V-E.
Emotion at its finest.
Such a brilliant emotion, in fact, that even when it isn’t his own there’s a massive influx of rapid-fire thoughts crisscrossing Satoru’s head.
Suguru fell in love with someone? What’s the kind of person Suguru would like? What’s Suguru’s ideal date? Does he prefer kisses or hugs? Is he dreaming about a future with a small cottage home and a cat and two kids and a—
“—Satoru? Satoru! Can you hear me? I need you to respond to me. Satoru.”
“Hah? Ooh, I think I’m back.” Satoru smacks his lips as he rubs at his eyes, feeling all the weight and burden of an overworked, sleepless college student realizing the great depth of the world after an afternoon nap. “Was I out long?”
Suguru narrows his eyes at him suspiciously. “Just a few seconds…I really can’t let you choose breakfast on your own, can’t I?”
“It’s alright, it’s alright!” Satoru guffaws, slapping at the table as he merrily gestures for Suguru to take a seat. “Just been thinking real hard. Say—Yuuji, Megumi, and Nobara all have crushes! Isn’t that interesting?”
“Megumi-chan?” Suguru says with gleeful smugness and complete mockery for the young Fushiguro. “Toji’s kid? No way, I thought he had the emotional reserve of a slow-moving snail.”
Wait until you find out he’s not just crushing, he's actually in love—just like you! Satoru thinks hysterically. “Trust me, Suguru, he’s definitely got a crush! I’ll let you in on a secret.”
He ducks his head down furtively, edging his chair closer to Suguru even as he beckons for Suguru to come closer. “He called the person kind—kind! Fushiguro ‘rumor has it he sets seagulls on fire for fun’ Megumi calling someone kind. The sky is falling.”
“The only valid reason that rumor’s not true is that Megumi would never harm animals,” Suguru mutters as he takes a sip of what remains of Satoru’s coffee, winces, and then sets the cup back down. “Never thought the day would come that Megumi would find love. Just felt like it was yesterday when he told his old man he was pan at that one party last year and went viral on social media for a full two weeks. Good times.”
“Kid like Megumi was bound to get his moment of fame. Especially with his having to see Toji on campus, poor kid, really,” Satoru muses as he mops up the last of the spilled coffee. “Makes it hard to figure out who he’s crushing on though—all those sea creatures in his pick of the sea.”
“Butchered the phrase a fair bit, I’m afraid.”
“Fish in the sea?”
“Fish in the sea.”
“Hmm. Do you think Megumi…likes Hana-chan?”
Suguru stares at him oddly. “Hana? That one freshman who thinks she and Megumi are bound by destiny and the imperceptible lines of fate? The melodramatic, oddly poetic stalker? Surely you’re kidding.”
“I’m just throwing out options,” Satoru grumbles as he slowly swishes around the dregs of his coffee, contemplating the swirls of milk and various shades of brown.
Then he grins, suddenly looking up at Suguru and looking straight into his gorgeous eyes. “Say now, if you were in love, surely you’d tell me—right?”
“Where’s all this coming from?” Suguru asks, taken aback. But surprised as he is, he doesn’t get defensive in the slightest. It’s never been within his and Suguru’s dynamic to raise guards and worm out offenses with each other. “Love is really on your mind, isn’t it?”
“Never know!” Satoru exaggeratedly winks at Suguru. “Maybe you’ll see later, hehe.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Find out later, yeah?”
Suguru looks at him incredulously before folding into a fond huff of a laugh, smiling to himself.
“Sure, I guess I’ll find out later. If it’s you.”
-
Later comes in the form of December 1, 12:31 p.m., his and Suguru’s dorm room.
As per Cupidistry 101, Satoru has three chances a year to reveal his full cupid might to whoever is the person he is helping find love. He doesn’t really exercise this ability—there’s no need, not when he's good enough at his job to get things done in full secrecy—but every once in a while there’s an especially dumb bugger who needs a bit of a kick. A kick manifesting in cupid in the flesh, all decked out in finery and regalia. Hairclips and wand.
Today’s a first, by many counts. But above all, in that he is revealing himself on the first day of the cupiding experiencing—Suguru deserves that much.
He succinctly raps his knuckles against Suguru’s door—once, twice—and then he waits.
Silence; a creaking noise; a muffled, tired grumble, and then the beautiful man himself—Geto Suguru.
“Satoru? What’s the issue this late at—oh.”
Suguru blinks rapidly as he takes in Satoru’s full outfit, seemingly flabbergasted. Satoru strikes a pose, head jutted out to one side resting against a palm with the other arm fully extended at a diagonal angle, right leg pointing out with the knee resting against the crook of the other leg. He’s seen it’s a cute pose—social media told him.
“Later has arrived! Tada!”
Suguru stares at him.
Satoru smiles back.
Suguru continues staring at him.
Satoru’s smile drops.
“...In accordance with Cupidistry 101, I hereby formally declare that as your resident cupid Gojo Satoru, it is my venerable and honorable duty to serve you in your quest for love. You may now ask questions though by the rules and regulations of Cupidstry Kaisen, I may or may not answer your questions and may answer them only to certain degrees. No payment is needed for my services, no terms and conditions either, though if you want a contract I can magic one up.”
Suguru stares back even more blankly. The moonlight is making his hair look especially beautiful tonight. “I’m going back to sleep. Bye.”
“No wait—Suguru! Wait—SUGURU!”
The door shuts.
He knocks on the door again, rapid-fire in a multitude of varying tempos. His favorite of late is the latest song he chose for karaoke with Shoko and Utahime. “Suguru! You’ve gotta listen to me! Hello? Hellooooo—”
Satoru nearly stumbles forward as the door opens again, revealing a bedraggled and somewhat edgy, suspicious-looking Suguru.
Suguur sighs as he fully opens the door, taking in Satoru’s full costume once more.
“I—Satoru? Are you getting into cosplay? You’ve been watching a lot of Sailor Moon lately…haven’t you? I didn’t know there was a cupid figure in there…maybe in the manga? Your outfit looks very nice on you…wow, it’s too late for this.”
“Sailor Moon?” Satoru laughs excitedly as he strikes another pose, eagerly waving his wand about in the air. “That’s so silly! I look nothing like her, though I do like the comparison to a moon princess, haha. No—I’m a cupid! A cupid of Cupidstry Kaisen, at your service. Beck and call and all that.”
“Uh—Cupidstry Kaisen?” Suguru stares at him blankly. He pinches himself harshly. “I’m not dreaming, am I? What the fuck?”
“What?” Satoru echoes amusedly, dancing in place as Suguru’s eyes disbelievingly track his energetic movements. “C’mon Suguru, keep up! I’m a cupid! Celestial matchmaker here by your side—the Gojo Satoru you’ve always known! And now, I’m your very own cupid for the rest of the month! Or at least until you find love.”
“You’re what?” A cupid? That chubby little Greek thing that shoots arrows and makes people fall in love?” Suguru splutters. He suddenly goes deadly quiet, serious. “Satoru, have you been taking drugs? Did you eat something strange someone gave to you?”
He winks grandly at Suguru. “Mythology has it all wrong. Drugs? Why’d there be funny little things like drugs in food people would give me—and why’d they be giving me bad stuff? That’s awfully rude.”
Suguru stares at him more deeply, a comprehensive sort of horror dawning on him. “Mythology?—Hold on, you’re actually serious? You’re a cupid—” Suguru winces, “—is that what you said?”
“A cupid—mhm! Such a manifestation that helps those in love find a bit of an easier path. Though mind you, I’m just as human as anyone else here—including you, my dear Suguru! It just so happened that I—hmm, how to say it—started my time on Earth about five years ago. My brain works just a bit differently but that’s it.”
“I—I need a moment to think about this.” Case in point, Suguru promptly slumps down against the door and drops heavily onto the ground, cozily situated at the junction of his door—linoleum meets ratty carpet.
Satoru too edges himself down onto the ground, adjusting his skirt as he quietly sits by Suguru. He does feel somewhat bad for waking up Suguru this late at night—the other needs as much sleep as he can get, and Suguru’s face is looking increasingly terrible as he tries to contemplate what’s happening, on top of having his sleep cut short.
“Suguru? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Suguru says in a brooding sort of manner, roughly inserting a hand into his hair and scratching at his scalp. “I can’t believe this. This is so—”
“Hey, look at me,” Satoru says gently as he lightly extricates Suguru’s hand, replacing it with his own and soothingly carding his fingers through the softly curled hair. “I’m sorry I kept this from you for so long, yeah? I couldn’t just tell you, even though I wanted to.”
A subtle smile crosses Suguru’s face. “Yeah yeah, I guess not—there must be a lot of things behind this whole…supernatural cupid thing you’ve got going on.”
Suguru sighs and then looks up at Satoru astutely. “So why the big reveal now? What is it—wait don’t tell me—is this how you figured out Megumi has a crush on someone? Your cupid powers? Is that why you’re telling me now? Megumi of all people?”
“Megumi-chan?” Satoru breaks out into a fit of giggles at the thought. “No no—of course not! It’s you, Suguru!”
“Me?” Suguru laughs awkwardly, disbelievingly. “What have I got to do with any of this?”
His uneasy smile drops as soon as it comes. “Oh god, so you know that I—”
“Geto Suguru—” Satoru whips out his wand and hits the button, reveling in how the flashes of pink lighting set his face in an especially dramatic cast—mood is rather important in his profession. “—I have heard your wishes for love, and fear not, Suguru! As your self-designated cupid, your best friend, your one and only and my one and only best friend forever I will help you get together with the love of your life?”
“You will help me get together with the love of my life,” Suguru echoes blankly. “You, of all people, will help me.”
“Why, but of course I will. Who else but? Fear not, Suguru, this shall be the most incredible experience of your life. Your love story will live on for ages.”
“My love story, hmm? I’m not sure how to feel about that?” Suguru smiles—and again, it’s with that odd tint of a self-cultivated joke. “Tell you what, I really wouldn’t want anyone to interfere with my love life—however well-intended—but if it’s you, I guess I’ll let you have a go at it.”
“Splendid! Then let’s get to—”
“One condition: I will not tell you who it is that I’m in love with.”
“Eh?” Satoru freezes and slowly sets his clunky plastic wand down. “Why not? Things would go so smoothly if you’d just—”
“No buts, you have to agree to it. Besides,” he grins shrewdly at Satoru, “you’ve done this a fair bit with a lot of strangers—what, around campus? Or is it the entirety of Tokyo? I’m sure you have a high success rate if you’re still here, still helping people find love. However, your system works.”
“It’s Tokyo,” Satoru answers dumbly,” and I’m kinda just stuck here regardless of whether I have a high pass rate or not. I just go cupiding around until I die or something—regular human lifespan and all, it’s a very realistic stimulation.”
“Stimulation? How marvelous. Then I’m quite sure that this will make for an excellent trial for your stimulation, as you so aptly called it.”
Now it’s Satoru’s time to laugh awkwardly, as he edges out of a squatting position to sit firmly on the ground, processing everything. Suguru observes him serenely, no longer quite so tired looking with his long hair affixed in a low bun and the oversized shirt he prefers to wear to bed sitting comfortably on his shoulders.
Can Satoru really trust himself to find love for Suguru without any sort of hint?
He’s known Suguru for five years, lived with him for five years, been friends with him for almost as long. And yet, he hasn’t the slightest clue as to who Suguru might be in love with.
A classmate? A barista at a teahouse he visits every day? A regular at his favorite bookshop? A childhood friend back in the countryside?
Satoru’s not infallible. His track record is riddled with failures, doubtful relationships, loves that flourished grandly for a split second before puttering out the next second.
It’s never weighed on Satoru’s mind. He of all people would know that love’s a finicky little thing—malleable and so suspect to change and evolution.
But he doesn’t know how to feel about Suguru finding love and having it fail him.
“Satoru, I can practically hear you thinking.”
“But Suguru,” his words catch in his throat, a rare feeling, “I can’t just—”
“Then don’t. You don’t have to rush this, yeah? You’ve got all the time in the world, so it seems—or well, you don’t have a time limit for your…clients as it is, do you?”
“I don’t,” Satoru answers mechanically.
“Then from here on out, I look forward to your attempts to help me find happiness in love.” Suguru gracefully extends a hand out to Satoru. Satoru stares at the hand, like a full idiot. “You’re supposed to shake on it.”
“I know that, idiot.” Satoru gawps at the hand, still feeling like an idiot nonetheless. “It’s just that—are you really okay with this?”
“If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be saying all this, wouldn’t I?” Suguru says with a light touch of humor. “Again, I trust you, Satoru. You were so excited and all, when I opened the door. This is what you get up to in the night, not Project Sekai, isn’t it? And that diary of yours…god, you’ve really been helping people find every night these past few years. All these years, all this time. You really can keep a secret.”
“It hasn’t been every night…”
“The thought still stands. In any case, what about this? I’ll give you until Christmas to help me get together with whoever I’m in love with. If you don’t manage to get the job done, I’ll confess. On Christmas Eve.”
“You will?” Satoru asks, entirely skeptical. “You can’t just joke about things like this.”
“Watch me.”
“Suguru.”
“Fine, fine. But I’m not joking.” Suguru smiles at him affectionately. “I’ve been meaning to tell them I’ve been in love with them for a while, I should stop avoiding it.”
Satoru mulishly looks down at Suguru’s hand. His broad, evenly tanned hand with minute scars from weapon work and calluses from training, writing, chores. Perfectly trimmed nails and knuckled protruding to such a degree that Satoru is especially fond of running his own thumb over.
He grabs Suguru’s hand and firmly shakes it once.
“You’ve got yourself a deal, Suguru. Twenty-three days and I assure you—no, I guarantee you—that you’ll spend Christmas with the love of your life.”
“I trust you can find out who it is, Satoru.”
Satoru finally laughs, all his pent-up stress and adrenaline from the night’s affair releasing in one sharp burst as he lopes an arm around Suguru’s shoulder and hauls the both of them up, walking side-by-side into Suguru’s bedroom where they can pile up the blankets and pillows and discuss all the things Satoru has ever done in his five years of cupidstry.
Starting tomorrow, he’ll devote all his learned experience and everything he’s ever learned about Suguru to the single most important cupid assignment of his life.