Chapter Text
After class at elementary school, Satoru had a question. And his math teacher, a beta so young his mom referred to as pup, didn’t talk down to him. She gave the correct answer, which got Satoru to ask why.
That’s probably it. One of those small moments that define your life, a banality that places your feet on a different path without you realizing it. A question answered, his intelligence not underestimated. Satoru’s still crossing that same path, the one where he realized he wants to know everything there’s to know.
Satoru never decided for it to be his path. And still, he did. In a hundred ways, at a hundred thresholds. Infinite banal choices accumulating each day. Wherever there was knowledge to be seen, Satoru would always chose to see it.
That’s probably why Satoru was the first to realize Nanami had fallen in love with you.
Satoru blamed boredom. He was distracted and happened to stare at the right place at the right time. Satoru used to blame boredom for everything back then. He knows better now. Satoru simply knew too much not to see it coming.
Nanami doesn’t drink his coffee sweetened. Satoru knows that. Nanami makes coffee as if his tongue and stomach deserved to be punished by it. He’s one of those bastards who think tea and coffee should be bitter like absinthe. A waste of water, Satoru could hear his complaints. You paid for that sugar bomb?
You always lose count of the drops of sweetener. Satoru knows that. Not even you enjoy your own coffee, drinking it all in one big gulp. I could offer you a sip but I don’t hate you, Satoru could hear your excuses. Tomorrow I’ll buy a milkshake instead.
“Itadori, take it easy”, you sighed. Moving towards your desk with a teenager following right behind, your short steps were an attempt at not spilling the coffee you just made. “You’re an intern. When no one gives you anything to do, just hope that luck lasts an entire shift.”
“I want to be helpful”, Yuji tried to argue. “Is there anything you need me to do?”
You sat down and sighed. “I’ll send you a few documents to print, alright?”
Phone hidden beneath his desk to watch Digimon, Satoru’s earbuds stopped working just in time to notice Yuji walking away with a self-fulfilled smile on his face. It’s not that Satoru wasn’t working, exactly. His demands were too simple to keep him busy. Trying to focus on the correct screen, a chuckle made his eyes wander on their own.
Between piles of increasing documents thanks to a chaotic team meeting earlier that morning, Nanami had something that almost resembled a smile on his face. No glasses could hide the dark circles around his eyes though. “Do you need anything printed?”
Blowing the coffee, you shrugged. “That boy isn’t paid enough to be helpful.”
“Definitely”, he said. Nanami fixed his posture, fangs glistening as he spoke. “But is he paid enough to battle against the printer for a while?”
“Oh, honey”, your smile beamed. He doesn’t know how Nanami reacted to it, Satoru was too busy staring at you. “No one is paid enough to do that.”
You hesitated when the mug was about to touch your painted lips. You placed it on his desk, resting your hand on the leather bracelet around Nanami’s wrist. He frowned at you, Satoru isn’t sure if it was because of the coffee or because of the way you touched his scent patch casually. Probably both, considering how stern Nanami is about everything.
“You look like you need it more than I do”, you squeezed it lightly. The golden pendants on your bracelets tinkled. “Tuesdays are quite busy for you, aren’t they?”
(Would a distracted Satoru remember the way your bracelets exposed the lack of a scent patch around your wrists? Or how tight the blue shirt got around Nanami’s forearms? Is it possible for Satoru to be distracted and still remember he wished he too was having a busy Tuesday?
He could’ve used some coffee. Even if it was bad. It being yours would’ve been enough.)
Nanami drank your bad coffee without grunting once. Obviously in love.
--
It wasn’t surprising. For such an easily irritable alpha to fall in love. Everyone talked about it like it was an unfathomable idea. Whispers about the new flowers on your desk, gossip about his scent lingering on your scarf. Satoru couldn’t help but roll his eyes whenever people figured out the obvious.
You’re calming. Satoru learned that. Somehow, the world grows quieter when you’re around. He thought it was a consequence of your scent. Subtly saline, the sort of perfume that makes him think of water parks and summer holidays. It took him a bad allergy to realize that it’s just you.
You two couldn’t differ more. There’s nothing soothing about Satoru and his never unnoticed presence. Others tend to tense up under his scrutiny. That’s his fault, he admits. Satoru never learned how not to observe others.
“Don’t move, Torukun”, you warned. “If you do, you will die.”
Satoru did as you said, resisting the urge to fix his sunglasses. He heard you moving around him slowly, Satoru assumed it to be your attempt at not making much noise. Others passed by you two, the street growing busier as more workers made their way to the subway.
In front of Satoru, with only half of your face affected by his dark lenses, you stared at something on top of his head. Your fingertips brushed against his hair. What a soft touch. Satoru tried not to laugh at the way you bit your tongue, going cross-eyed as you focused on whatever your task was.
“If you wanted to pet my hair you could’ve just said so.”
You brough your hand down, a leafwing butterfly resting on your finger. He missed the weight of your touch. It seems you’re a witch that can read minds, if the way you held his hand is anything to go by.
“She likes you”, you said, waiting for the butterfly to move to his hand. Admiring the blue brushstroke wings, Satoru felt lighter. Staring at your eyes, his heartbeat was almost deafening. “I can see why.”
That’s when Satoru realized. He doesn’t know why, there’s nothing important about that afternoon. He didn’t even had a good time since poorly seasoned food ruined his mood. The only thing precious about that very minute was that Satoru remembered which word could describe how you made him feel.
That’s love, your nails raked his skin lightly. Satoru stepped back, startling the butterfly. Only then did he notice the street was full of noisy people. What a bother for us.
How can it be surprising? Nanami fell in love with you. Some people are like that, Satoru learned. Easy to love.
--
Satoru ignored the answer. His teacher didn’t sound correct, so he assumed she wasn’t. Satoru was the only student not to believe her explanation, and it showed on his grade. There it was. Another banality, a curve in his path. Satoru wants to know everything. On his own terms, of course.
That’s probably why he was the last person to realize you had fallen in love with Nanami.
He saw it. On your high heel brushing against his leg underneath the desks. Or the scarves you wear matching his ties. Satoru saw it on your smeared lipstick. When his nose couldn’t get to your scent that easily anymore. On every first comment in your photos, on every hand being held, on every beaming smile in the corner of his eyes.
Satoru saw each public way you shaped your love for Nanami. But he didn’t. Satoru saw no signs at all.
Nanami is stern. He doesn’t laugh, doesn’t smile. He’s tense, never moves like another human being would. Satoru never heard him lie. Not about someone’s new haircut, not about what he feels. It doesn’t matter what he feels, Nanami doesn’t lie about it. Satoru can always count on Nanami’s honesty.
There’s not a soothing bone on his body. Nothing sedative about his presence. It’s impossible not to notice he’s there. Nanami can be as silent as he wants to be, but Satoru always sees him. And he doesn’t tenses up when Satoru looks at him. Never did.
After all, Nanami is already tense by default.
“No”, said Nanami. Again. “Sit down.”
The train made a curve, Satoru leaned on the metal bar and observed Nanami trying his best not to fall. Not even that made Nanami change his mind. Satoru rolled his eyes, gesturing at the vacant seat. “Nanamin, you sit down.”
“Don’t call me that”, he groaned. Nanami fixed his glasses with his left hand, a wise choice considering his right arm was broken and immobilized. “Don’t be a pest, Gojo-kun. Sit down.”
“Who would’ve imagine you to be so proud”, he provoked. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those alphas that are ashamed of feeling pain, Nanamin?”
“I’m not”, Nanami stated, categorically.
Satoru could’ve continued to mess around, but he rather knows Nanami won’t fall and break something else. It physically hurt Satoru not to mention this time he said nothing about Nanamin.
“Can’t you see it’s vacant because no one dares to let an invalid, grumpy man stand when he clearly is having a bad time balancing himself? Sit. Down.”
Nanami sighed. “Invalid?”
“And grumpy”, Satoru added. “Don’t forget that part.”
“Alright. I’m an invalid, grumpy man and I want you to rest.” Nanami didn’t look up from his phone, but his ears were had a soft touch of red. “You look tired, omega. I won’t fall on you.”
It made him wonder how Nanami looks like when he’s putting on effort. Instead of asking for it, Satoru started to go home earlier than usual. This will be easier for us.
Satoru shouldn’t be surprised. That someone like you fell for someone like him. It’s Nanami, after all. Is there a better match for your comfort than his honesty? And still, when tinkling pendants on your bracelets made his eyes wander to the deep bond scars on your inner wrists, Satoru felt something shattering inside his chest.
You and Nanami were off limits now and he’s the only one to blame.