Chapter Text
In Utahime’s opinion, the most frustrating thing about Satoru and Shoko is that they’re both little punks.
She thinks—knows actually, that a lot of their problems would disappear if they chose to be honest with themselves and with each other.
Everything between them has to be indirect. They make the choice to be immature and mean, avoiding any actual conversation. They like to do adult things, each other included, but just don’t want to take any kind of adult responsibility.
And as her best friend—and probably the person in the world who loves her most—Utahime knows there’s something wrong with Shoko.
The thing about Shoko is that she’s neutral enough that most people don’t realize how deeply insecure she really is until it’s too late.
She lies constantly.
It’s just unimportant stuff a lot of the time, what she ate for lunch, when she went to bed, if she’s read anything interesting lately. Things she’d have no real reason to lie about.
At first Utahime thought it was compulsive or maybe just a bad habit, but over time she started realizing the details themselves usually aren’t the problem, but instead what they imply.
Because if Shoko admits what she had for lunch, she might also have to admit she ate it with Satoru.
Or that when she went to bed was dependent on the time that he left her place, and the last thing she read was most likely those stupid ass Reddit posts that they send back and forth.
Utahime didn’t understand why they sent those “am I the asshole?” posts to each other as often or as confidently as they did. Very judgmental of people in very similar situations to themselves, but she suspected it was because if either of them ever actually wrote one about themselves, the consensus would be immediate and unanimous.Yes.
You are both assholes.
Public execution. Guillotine. Throw tomatoes at them in the town square.
It’s embarrassing, apparently. How she feels about him. Everything is embarrassing to Shoko.
Satoru is slightly better. Slightly.
At minimum, he can usually recognize discomfort when it shows up. He’ll even admit to it sometimes, which already puts him leagues ahead of Shoko.
The problem is that he never actually does anything useful with the feeling once he has it. He’s like a dog that comes back to eat his own throw up.
Utahime genuinely thought he would’ve learned to handle complicated emotions by now, especially considering he spends all day working with children.
Actual little kids. First graders. Second graders.
Technically he isn’t even a licensed teacher. It’s more volunteering than anything official. But it’s what he chooses to do, which remains one of the few things about Satoru that Utahime considers genuinely redeemable.
There were a hundred other jobs he could’ve drifted into and performed with impressive mediocrity. Most of them would’ve paid better, too.
Instead he spends his afternoons helping six-year-olds sound out words and learn their colors or whatever.
He hangs their drawings on the fridge next to Nanami’s sticky note reminders and sits for entire evenings with Haibara trying to decipher what the hell a crayon scribble on a worksheet is even supposed to be.
Satoru and Shoko have known each other long enough that Utahime knows there’s actual proof somewhere—of them being decent people to each other.
There are moments, brief and humiliating to witness, where they seem to understand each other perfectly.
But Instead they choose to stay trapped in this miserable little cycle where they take turns badmouthing each other to the same four people in their small social circle, none of whom really care anymore.
If it were up to her, they would just stop speaking altogether. She likes Haruto. Genuinely.
He’s normal, which already gives him an enormous advantage over Satoru.
They aren’t serious. Utahime knows that. Shoko only sees him whenever he asks and she happens to have time, which means it’s probably been doomed from the start.
Still.
It’s a step in the right direction.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞
The thing is, he really just wants to talk to her. He doesn't think he has it in him to be mad at her anymore. Satoru wants to apologize and ask her how she’s been because despite himself, he admittedly really misses her.
He can tell though from the way she shoulder checked him, she’s not really jacking that idea.
He considered reaching for her back at the door but that would've put him in optimal dick punching vicinity and that is an opportunity Shoko would most definitely take.
So instead, he settles for sitting across from her at the table while she compliments Nanami on food he very obviously did not make and laughs at some joke with Utahime and Haibara that he isn’t included in.
Which leaves Satoru poking at his food and making awkward conversation with Ijichi, who very clearly does not want to be talking to him.
“How’s work?” he asks, not really looking at him.
Ijichi blinks. “I’m still in school.”
“Oh.”
Right.
Satoru glances over at him for the first time all evening. “Seriously?”
Ijichi nods once and looks back down at his plate.
“Um, are you doing well?”
Jesus, he sounded like someone's dad.
“Yeah.”
Satoru nodded, lifting his plate to his mouth.
“Nice. That's good, really good.”
“Right.”
Ijichi, while technically the youngest out of all of them, had aged since the last time Satoru had seen him. He was still a wiry kind of guy, but Satoru guessed university was reason enough for him to look as exhausted as he did.
University wasn’t something Satoru ever really wanted to do. Not now at least. Not in the traditional sense.
His family could afford to send him anywhere and he was smart enough to get into pretty much anywhere too, but at this point in his life he just couldn’t.
Eventually, probably.
Yeah, he’d get to it eventually.
At the moment though, it felt like there were too many other things he could be doing with his time, which was ironic considering he didn’t actually do much of anything these days.
Satoru understood the implications of higher education enough to know what it was supposed to mean. They’d all attended the same private boarding school, the kind with obscene tuition costs that promised successful futures for every graduate that managed to do decently.
However, It hadn’t exactly panned out that way.
Utahime had recently finished undergrad. Nanami, Haibara, and Ijichi were all still in the middle of their degrees.
Geto dropped out after a year and a half.
Shoko was most likely cutting some kinds of corners.
And Satoru had never even started.
“Well, it’s good that you’re seeing it through.”
Ijichi just offers him a tight lipped smile because what the fuck else is he supposed to do with that.
Satoru shovels more food into his mouth and focuses very hard on chewing instead of listening to the conversation happening around him.
It works for about thirty seconds.
“So how’s Megumi?”
He looks up automatically.
Shoko’s staring at him now from across the table, still smiling faintly from whatever dumb thing Haibara had said a second ago. She’d somehow managed to drink herself stupid in under two hours, enough that Satoru genuinely couldn’t tell if she remembered she was supposed to be irritated with him.
The question catches him completely off guard.
He just blinks at her for a second, chewing slowly, the end of his chopsticks trapped stupidly between his teeth.
“Huh?”
“Megumi,” she repeats. “That kid in your class. How is he?”
“Oh.” Satoru pulls the chopsticks from his mouth. “He’s good. Just had a birthday.”
Shoko’s expression softens a little around the edges.
“That’s nice.” She leans back slightly, fishing a crumpled cigarette pack from her pocket. “How old now?”
“Six.”
“Six,” she repeats quietly, like she’s trying the number out in her head.
Then she smiles.
“Cute.”
Before Satoru can think of anything else to say, Shoko taps Utahime’s shoulder with the back of her hand and nods toward the patio doors. Nanami notices immediately, happy to indulge in his one cigarette a week.
The second the patio door slides shut behind them, Satoru is out of his chair.
Haibara barely gets halfway through another bite of food before Satoru grabs him by the sleeve and hauls him down the hallway.
“Whoa— alright? What the hell?”
Satoru ignores him until they’re far enough from the kitchen that Utahime can’t overhear and throw something at him.
Then he turns abruptly.
“She talked to me.”
Haibara blinks once.
And then he smiles.
“I noticed, it was nice of her to include you in the conversation.”
“She hasn’t spoken to me in a month.”
“I know.”
Satoru furrows his brows.
“I think this is like an olive branch or some shit. A sign from god.”
“Divine intervention?”
Satoru nods enthusiastically.
“Yeah, exactly.”
“I think,” Haibara says, that she’s drunk and the urge to cut your dick off and send it back to you in the mail has temporarily subsided.”
Satoru pouts.
Which— okay. Fair. Probably accurate, actually. He’d have to be a complete idiot not to recognize that possibility.
“So what should I do?”
“Nothing. I think you take it for what it is and just try to enjoy yourself.”
He stares back at him.
“Yeah. Enjoy it.”
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞
Shoko doesn't notice utahime's irritation at first, mainly because she’s not looking at her.
She drops into one of the patio chairs beside Nanami with a soft groan, legs stretching out in front of her while she digs through her pocket for her lighter. Utahime is leaning against the railing where she was walked with Satoru. p>Nanami accepts the cigarette Shoko offers him
Utahime stares at Shoko.
Shoko notices on the second inhale.
“What?” she asks, brows pulling together slightly.
Utahime’s expression doesn’t change. “What was that in there?”
Shoko blinks once like she genuinely doesn’t understand the question. “What was what?”
“You talking to Satoru.”
Nanami closes his eyes briefly.
Shoko leans farther back into the chair.
“Yeah, what about it?”
“I just want to know why?”
“I don’t think it’s that important.”
“No, seriously.” Utahime gestures vaguely toward the apartment with her cigarette. “Why did you do that?”
“I dunno, because he was just sitting there not saying anything to anyone but ijichi. I wanted to make it less awkward I guess."
Nanami snorts quietly. “I’m sure you made him feel included and whatnot.”
Shoko points at him. “Thank you.”
Utahime ignores both of them. “You could’ve easily left him alone though.”
Shoko exhales smoke slowly through her nose. “It would be weird if I did that.”
“So?”
She rolls her eyes hard enough that Utahime can practically hear it.
“Jesus Christ, Hime. I asked about a kid in his class, and left it at that.”
“And it always starts like that.”
“I think you forget he’s one of my best friends. And we’re all here together, as friends.”
“He’s a terrible friend, Shoko. Why can’t you just make peace with that?”
“Because it’s not true.”
“It very much is.”
Shoko’s head snaps slightly. “What is your obsession with mothering me?!”
“I’m not!”
“Okay, so better question. What the hell is your obsession with him?”
Utahime stares at her. “What are you talking about?”
“I just mean you can be so neutral about literally anything else, but when it comes to him you’re breathing down my fucking neck.”
“God forbid someone looks out for you. Everyone else enables all the stupid decisions he makes.”
Utahime gestures at Nanami, who has already stood up and is grinding his cigarette into the ashtray.
“Not everything is about you not liking Satoru!”
“And not everything has to involve him!”
“What does that even mean?”
“That you have a lot of really good things going for you, and I don’t think you should fuck it up for him of all people.”
Shoko stands.
“I’m not! Nothing I do is about him.”
Utahime steps in at the same time.
“You become someone completely different when you’re together, and when it crashes you’re a fucking mess Shoko. I hate seeing you like that. You act like he’s the only person you have.”
“He just understands.”
“Understands what, Suguru? He’s gone and he’s probably not coming back anytime soon.”
She doesn’t mean anything she’s saying to her. She knows she doesn’t. She loves her with every fiber of her entire being. Which is probably why it’s so easy to say it the way that she is.
“You get off on making everyone else feel so bad about themselves because you can’t admit that you hate the direction your life is going in. Which is absolutely nowhere.”
“Screw you Shoko. You don’t have any of your shit together. I swear to god, you’re going to be a fucking doctor and your biggest achievement would be having his demented fucking baby.”
“Fuck you.”
Nanami pushes up immediately. “Alright—”
Too late.
Utahime shoves a finger toward Shoko’s chest. “You don’t get to act like I’m overbearing just because I notice when you’re—”
“Don’t poke me.”
Utahime doesn’t move back. “Or literally what?”
The air snaps.
“Calm down,” Nanami says, grabbing Utahime’s arm.
At the same time, Haibara slides open the glass door. “What are you guys yelling about?”
Ijichi is right behind him, already unnecessarily nervous. “I think we should take this inside. Your neighbors can probably hear you.”
Satoru arrives last, confused. “Everything alright?”
Shoko glances over her shoulder and frowns. “Go back inside, Satoru.”
“Alright.” He shrugs—already turning—until Haibara hooks an arm around him and drags him back into place.
“I think you guys are drunk and we all need to come inside,” Haibara says brightly.
“When the hell is Utahime not drunk,” Shoko remarks.
Utahime leans forward against Nanami’s grip. “I heard that.”
Nanami tightens his hold. “You were meant to.”
That’s when Satoru steps in behind Shoko and grabs her by the shoulders, pulling her back before she can move forward again.
Shoko immediately twists in his grip. “Get off—Satoru, don’t—”
“Calm down,” he says, guiding her back toward the patio door.
“Let’s just go back inside, Y’know take a little break.”
“Stop talking.”
She elbows back into him.
Hard.
Satoru lets out a loud, strangled “—Ow, fuck—” and doubles over. He abruptly lets go of her, both hands cover his ribs. What the hell is wrong with you?” he groans, with his eyes tearing up. “You actually hit me.”
Utahime tries to step forward again, still restrained. “She’s the one who—”
“Utahime, please,” Nanami says flatly, pulling her back.
“We’re done.”
Haibara claps once, way too happy about this. “Great! We can all watch a movie or something!”
Shoko is still fighting Satoru’s grip. “Put me down.”
“In a second,” Satoru says, regaining his posture, still grimacing slightly. “It’s taking everything in me not to let Utahime beat your ass right now.”
Shoko jerks her head back. “So you’re on her side?”
“Oh calm down,” he says immediately.
She elbows back again, trying to twist free.
Satoru catches it this time but still hisses. “Okay—nope. You’re done.”
Utahime finally stops struggling, breathing hard, still glaring at Shoko over Nanami’s arm.
“I’m not going back in there with her.”
“Whatever, I’m going on a walk.”
Satoru exhales dramatically through his nose like this is somehow now his burden to bear. He adjusts his grip around her waist and resigns himself to fate.
“Yeah,” he mutters. “Unfortunately, you are.”
And before she can argue again, he hoists her up tighter and starts dragging her off the patio with him.
Shoko immediately starts fighting him again.
“Stop kicking me,” Satoru complains, sounding genuinely close to tears now.