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It’s 1 am on a chilly night and you opened the door to find your high school friend standing half-awake in his potato pajamas shirt with Chinese takeout.
“You came?”
“Of course I did. Did you think I wouldn’t?” Suga answered and cringed upon hearing his voice clearly still laced with sleep. He breathed onto his palms. “You don’t usually call me at this hour, there’s no way I’m not coming over.”
Stepping aside to let him in, you inwardly cursed your lapse of judgement that led this poor sleep deprived newly-employed elementary teacher into your flat. But you’ve been feeling like shit and were getting way into your head and since this was your first day of living by yourself after your last roommate graduated, you had nobody to talk to— and Suga always said ‘feel free to call me anytime, even if you don’t have the reason to’, so before you could stop yourself you had dialed his phone number and the next thing you know, he’s already here. The fact that he came so fast without changing into warmer clothes while simultaneously still took the time to get takeout only feeds into your guilt like gasoline to forest fire. You had woken him up; if his tousled hair and heavy eyes were any indication, and you got him to walk all the way here with no regard of whether he had a long day and needed rest or whether he came here out of the obligation of being your childhood friend because that sounds exactly like what Suga would do. You had initially reasoned to yourself that he might not even pick up since it’s already late, but deep down you knew that he'd always set a different ringtone specifically for your phone number and had it on the loudest volume even when he sleeps, and the guilt of being an inconvenience to someone as kind as Suga for something as trivial as you being a little bothered is—
“Wanna watch something? It’s been ages since I watched Criminal Minds.” Suga asked, throwing his bag haphazardly on a chair nearby as he made his way to the kitchen.
Snapping out of your trance, you closed the front door and hurried to the kitchen. “I’ll plate those, go wait in the living room.”
“It’s fine.”
“Then I’ll make coffee.” You can’t possibly trouble him more than this; the pits in your stomach gets heavier just by the thought of it.
“What are you, a child?” he chuckled.
“Suga—"
“What are you so worked up about? I got it, don’t worry,” Suga laughed, but swiftly caught you by the arm when you stumbled into the kitchen and lost your footing. “Whoa, don’t do that. You’ll hurt yourself.”
Alarm was clear in his eyes and you’re not sure if he meant by that; your rushed stumbling or rapid-fire thoughts. He always seemed to notice exactly what’s on your mind, after all; sometimes even before you notice them yourself. You couldn’t even manage to utter a thank you before Suga flashed you a quick smile and turned to the cabinets.
You settled on going to the living room, switching on the TV and tidying up the table to at least somewhat fit several plates of food. You ran to the closet to grab a warm blanket, in self-reproach for having Suga walk all the way here in cold weather. Suga passed you a plate just moments later, settling on a spot on the sofa right next to you.
“So,” Suga said in passing, his head prompted by one arm as he laid sideways on the sofa facing the TV, blanket sprawled haphazardly on his lower half, “why’d you call?”
You blinked. It only occurred to you that you never really told him the reason why you called him in the first place. In a moment of self-doubt, you wondered if there even was a good enough reason at all. You recall only uttering “I’m alone,” over the phone in barely a whisper, and, after only two eternity worth of seconds and before you could quickly backtrack with a rushed "nevermind, forget I ever said that, it's stupid, anyways I'll hang up now", Suga answered “I’ll be there in 15 minutes.”
You wondered why he even bothered to humor you by coming over, by even picking up the phone at all when it would’ve been easier to ignore you altogether.
So you sat there in silence, absent-mindedly studying his features until he looked up and accidentally met your eyes. He was above jumping in surprise, but his eyes went wide for a moment, just like yours before you busied yourself with stuffing food into your face. When you turned back though, Suga only smiled back.
“Hey, I noticed on my way here, but the stars are out tonight. Did you know that?”
The offer in his tone were obvious, and in silent agreement you got up to rummage your closet for an impromptu picnic in your backyard.
Now sitting on sprawled bed sheets instead of a picnic blanket, pointing at random stars and naming them after Suga’s high school volleyball teammates, you wondered what deed you’ve done in the previous life to score you a friend as magnificent as one Sugawara Koushi. As you tucked the blanket to cover Suga more, you decided it must’ve been something significant, like saving a nation or something.
“You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”
The air of finality in his voice, albeit somewhat obscured with a suppressed yawn, made it clear. But of course, if there was something you learned after years of befriending the Sugawara Koushi, it's that he's very observant. Almost too observant in fact, to the point where it's almost scary. You were holding something back and he knew it.
“When did I—how did you—?”
“When I said I’ll be there for you I meant every word, you know.”
He never asked it bluntly, but you realize it’s always subtly hidden underneath everything he says. The implied ‘are you okay?’s and ‘I’m here for you’s. All the lingering smiles and light compliments that he delivered with ease and always manage to lift your spirits even when you still thought you were unworthy of such praises. All the ways he has silently reminded you, ‘you matter to me’. Apparently, you were an open book to Suga and he was moving around your reluctance to speak up accordingly.
“Are you sure you're not a mind reader?” you asked incredulously, for lack of anything better to say.
"Maybe." Suga feigned a sly smirk. He then laughed at your eye roll. “I just know you that well. What does our friendship even mean to you?”
Suga turned to you with that warm gaze of his, as if whispering reassurance. He always had that effect on you for as long as you can remember, and no amount of teasing could keep you from feigning annoyance when he looks at you like that.
It was so obvious it was almost embarrassing. So, all at once, you decide to abandon any doubt in your mind and face Suga, who is breathing so easily though still lightly weighted down by lack of sleep. You breathed in and this time it was much easier. “Look up and count the stars right now.”
“What, you mean it’s infinite, our friendship?” he said dramatically, “aaaw, how sweet—”
“No, I meant it’s a waste of time.”
Suga squinted at your lousy attempt of a joke. “And yet you don’t mind wasting time with me anyway.” You inwardly sighed in relief that he didn’t take it the wrong way, or else that would've felt like a jerk— your snippy sense humor has cost you a lot of awkward conversations before, and you couldn’t help but to scold yourself whenever a quip slipped past you without a thought. But then again, Suga was now laughing at your jokes so you must be doing something right.
You snorted, barely hiding the grin that's threatening to surface. “You jump to conclusions way too much.”
Suga clicked his tongue playfully, grumbled a “you didn’t deny it though!” with a pout, but started counting the stars anyway, back flush on the damp fabric separating both of you from the cold grassy ground and inching closer to you under the covers.
Unbeknownst to you, Suga smiled triumphantly at how you comfortably bounced back to your usual quips, noting the weight lifting from your voice and shoulders. Pulling you back up from a slump like this, even if you didn't tell him anything, he'd call that a win.
A waste of time huh, he smiled to himself, that’s something, at least.