Chapter Text
Suguru was the first to spot the stranger.
Satoru had been dragging him around with childlike excitement, his gloved hand clamped around Suguru's wrist as he veered them around the food court of their favorite mall.
The stranger passed by almost in a blur, standing last in line at a vendor advertising healthy sandwiches and smoothies. His face was turned, listening to the words spilling out of the mouth of a shorter boy with a questionable haircut next to him. He stood out in the wide expanse and Suguru clocked him as someone of his and Satoru's likeness. Birds of an alternative feather, so to speak.
Among couples hand in hand, businessmen carrying briefcases with phones to their ears, teenage cliques, mothers and their wailing children, the stranger was like a beacon, alluring and aesthetically pleasing along the grooves of Suguru's mind. A thin frame highlighted by the tight t-shirt and the tighter jeans he wore, ripped and dangerously low-rise. The stranger glittered with silver jewelry—a hoop through his septum and bottom lip, cuffs lining his ears, stacked bracelets on his wrists. Side-swept bangs tucked behind his ear, a natural butter-blond. An adorably impatient crinkle between his straight eyebrows as he listened.
Suguru smiled at the gorgeous boy clad in black, even if it went unseen.
He was the first to see the stranger. But he knew his boyfriend better than himself most days. He knew it would be Satoru that would try to approach—if only they passed this stranger again.
The array of choices in this laminated roulette of quick dining made Satoru's mouth water and his appetite jump for joy at the promise of being assuaged. Suguru followed his lead with an amiable grin, content to be a willing accomplice in his boyfriend's schemes. They found themselves stopping at a miniature café with a bubbly sign and the smell of fried sweet treats.
Satoru bounced on his heels as Suguru read to him the menu in that slow way he does, even though they've been to this mall about one hundred times and know what to expect by now. And while Satoru ordered his usual—half of the entire menu—Suguru took a chance to glance around.
More swathes of faces passed. Voices melded together into a steady, constant din. And there he was again, the beautiful stranger. Only a few feet away, he sat at a table near the café with the same boy he was in line with, still chatting his ear off. They looked like they shouldn't know each other. The stranger with his dark style and his grit and the other boy dressed in light blues with an exuberant gleam in his wide eyes. The stranger's friend reminded Suguru of Satoru, in a surface level kind of way. Uninhibited in their joy, no matter how it rubs off on others.
Suguru continued his discreet watching as Satoru whipped around with his food tray in hand. He looked down, counting each item with his finger to verify that his order was made right, and then he lifted his head. He searched for empty tables, starting far and getting closer, and Suguru knew.
Three… Two… One.
A quiet gasp, inaudible to anyone but Suguru.
He asked anyway, "What is it, Satoru?"
"That guy," Satoru replied, sparkling eyes on the table only a few short paces from where they stood. Fixated. Hands occupied, he nodded once in that direction. "Over there, the hot emo one sitting with the guy with the bowl cut. You see him?"
Suguru nodded, his mind quickly catching on to what Satoru was about to say. "Yeah, I've been looking around. What about him?"
Satoru's eyes flicked to him briefly before turning right again. And there in his expression, a renewed light gave a new shade to his irises. Suguru recognized it for what it was—mirrored interest.
It's no unspoken thing, their hypothetical quest for a third. Another variable to balance out their lively equation. They've talked at length. They've searched. And a handful of times, the hypothetical bordered on something tangible. But nothing stuck. It was all too manufactured, too jagged and incompatible.
This could be organic, if not a bit cliche.
Satoru was still gazing at the stranger when he replied slowly, chewing on his lip. "He's cute, isn't he?"
Ah, finally, there it is.
Suguru hummed deeply, not an ounce of hesitance in his answer. "He is."
"And you know," Satoru continued, "if we both noticed him, we should talk to him."
"He's with someone. And I don't get the impression that he's someone who likes to be cornered."
"That doesn't mean we can't just… compliment him. Go up and say hi."
Never one to back down, Satoru. It made being with him invigorating and aggravating in equal measure. But he illustrated a valid point. This stranger had ensnared both of their attention, there's no reason to tip-toe around that fact.
Suguru took a breath and weighed the merits of Satoru's words. There was too many unknown variables. The potential was there, for this to blow up in their faces and dishearten their journey.
But… they would never know if they didn't at least try.
A slow smile took over Suguru's mouth. He placed a heavy hand on Satoru's shoulder.
"Let me do the talking," he said. "You might scare him off."
⭑ ⭑ ⭑
Satoru grumbled in Suguru's ear, offended and complaining that, I'd never spook him, and, Just look at me! I'm the epitome of calm and collected. Suguru shook his head with a dry chuckle, fond exasperation painting his features.
The stranger and his friend were facing each other as they approached, mouths moving in tandem, only looking up when Suguru politely cleared his throat and disturbed the noise. Satoru made a small sound.
The friend's wide eyes lit up while the stranger's face blanched. Suguru hoped to wipe away whatever expression distorted his face with his next words. This would be their only chance.
"Hey, sorry to interrupt." Suguru waved at the stranger and plastered on his most genial smile. Satoru practically vibrated next to him, mouth contorting around whatever he wished to say but kept silent. "We saw you over by the smoothie stand and wanted to tell you we liked your vibe."
Liked your vibe—the understatement of the century, but Suguru kept his face kind. Fluffing up this stranger would take finesse, and Suguru possessed that in spades. How else would he have convinced everyone he's laid back while Satoru's crazy?
The stranger's friend poked him on the side with his elbow. "The smoothie stand," he repeated to the stranger, low and drawn out like it meant something between them.
The stranger sent his friend a withering glare but came off assured, almost aloof in his reply to Suguru, glancing between him and Satoru and never looking at one of them longer than the other. "Thank you. You guys look cool, too."
If Satoru was holding himself back before, his effort was in vain. The stranger had said the magic words. His face broke into a wide smile, all teeth and unfiltered glee and his words came faster than Suguru could stop them or the potential disaster they spelled.
"Really, I love the whole doom and gloom thing you got going on," Satoru said, making up for his inability to gesticulate by looking the stranger up and down. "And those piercings, how much did they hurt? I've thought about getting some, but I don't think I will if the healing's gonna suck."
The stranger regarded Satoru with a new expression, and now that Suguru saw it, he could definitively say it was suspicion. Suspicion that wasn't there before. His eyes narrowed, and he took his time responding like the words were being dragged out of him. "… Depends on where you get them. It's different for everyone—"
"Why don't you guys sit with us?" the friend interrupted cheerfully, gesturing to the two seats across from them. "He can tell you all about them." Leaning forward, he brought his voice to a near-whisper as if he were telling some big secret and covered the side of his face. "He even did some of them himself."
Satoru and Suguru spared a look between them, bewildered yet overwhelmingly satisfied. This wide-eyed boy obviously had no regard for social norms or any inhibition when it came to readily talking to people he knew nothing about. Maybe a bit too friendly for his own good. He was strange, but strange was what they needed if this was ever going to work.
With synchronized movements, Satoru and Suguru took the seats offered to them and let Operation: Woo the Sexy Emo Boy begin.
⭑ ⭑ ⭑
Kento wished he was infuriated with Yu for pulling this stunt, because being upset with him would be a thousand times easier than admitting he might have had the right idea.
Talking to these two strangers—Satoru and Suguru, he learned their names were, weirdly nice to say—came easier than he ever imagined it would. Among his small circle of friends, Kento was infamously anti-social. Reserved. Preferred not to speak unless spoken to. Mercilessly blunt, much so that it verged on rude at times.
But these two were so—what's the word… charismatic, that his predilections ceased to matter. Suguru, with his deep tone of voice that made it seem like every word was picked deliberately before it was spoken and woven to make Kento unwind just so. And Satoru was so assured in everything he said that it didn't matter that half of it was nonsense. He calculated for Kento's retorts, but didn't care enough to let them ruin his levity.
And, fuck, they were gorgeous. Even Kento could admit that.
They had a natural beauty in them, in their features. Every accessory they wore added to their allure instead of detracting from it. The dark makeup around Suguru's eyes gave them a sharp feline quality that Kento couldn't help but stare at every time he caught Suguru watching him. Each time Suguru smiled, the jewelry in his cheeks, pierced right where his dimples would be, flashed and made Kento's stomach roll. His arms were thick and his muscles flexed out of the sleeveless shirt he wore. The leather bracelets he wore practically strained against his forearms. And the gauges in his ears, the same shade of black as his long shiny hair, made Kento almost start drooling more than once.
Satoru was in a league of his own. The midday sunlight beaming through the skylights made the stacked kandi bracelets on his wrists glitter, along with the colorful studded belts hanging off of him. It made his hair shimmer like tinsel, wild and white with sections of it dyed solid and striped blue, the same impossible shade as his eyes. His face was piercing-free, but his ivory skin glowed on its own. Every inch of him screamed hyper and irrepressible, and it showed in his unapologetic use of colors and patterns and layers. He was meant to draw eyes, and Kento had trouble focusing between him and Suguru.
Without realizing it, or maybe he did and refused to acknowledge it, Kento was irrevocably caught in their orbit.
Trying to keep a tight rein on his sensibilities, Kento informed Satoru of his piercings as Yu suggested; how much they hurt individually, where he went to get them done, how much they cost; and for the ones he did himself, he emphasized his use of proper equipment, the importance of sterilization and that by all accounts, they were last resorts.
It was a dry, informative conversation and Kento couldn't imagine it as interesting by any measure, but his worries were soothed by the fact that Satoru and Suguru hung onto his every word. They kept eye contact with him, smiled along attentively. Suguru had even interjected to explain his own experience, and Satoru enthusiastically nodded to both of them while quickly eating his food—that smelled unbearably sweet to Kento—and looking for all the world like he wanted to take notes.
Then the conversation dissolved into music, as Kento and Suguru were both wearing band tees. They told each other their favorite artists—different answers for the three of them but described with equal passion.
Kento hadn't noticed at the time, but Yu had gone silent in favor of simply watching the three of them engage with ease, like they'd known each other for years. It wasn't a jealous or slighted silence. Yu had his chin in his palm with a sparkle in his eye and a knowing grin, content that he'd practically forced Kento to talk to people outside of him for once.
It helped that Kento had seen the two before, about an hour before when he insignificantly brushed past them in Hot Topic. He offhandedly mentioned them to Yu as they checked out, and now Yu used that to their mutual benefit.
If Kento believed in the concept, he would call it fate.
Suguru was nearing the end of a story where he and Satoru had snuck to the front row of a concert they attended together. Satoru howled with laughter like their tandem mischief was only yesterday.
Kento smiled despite himself.
He took a sip of his mango smoothie and tried to come off nonchalant as he said, "It sounds like you guys get out often."
He wondered what it would feel like to hang out with them, to be caught in the whirlwind of their wit and charm and shenanigans. Being wrapped in their brief attention—as weird as it felt to be noticed by two people straight out of his filthiest dreams—gave him a glimpse, and he had to admit to himself…
He wanted more of it. Craved it, even.
Satoru was the one to respond this time, and his words tied Kento's insides in knots.
"Yeah, I mean, it's fun and all, but it becomes kinda boring when you do it so many times. After a while it starts to feel like something's missing." Satoru licked a layer of powdered sugar off his fingers as he stared into Kento's eyes, daring him to rise to the challenge, like he was the something missing. "At least for us, you know?"
Kento opened his mouth, ready to form a reply—an indifferent remark to shake off the warmth crawling up his neck, maybe; a flustered, jumbled sound, surely—but Suguru stopped him short, placing a hand on Satoru's shoulder, gazing into his eyes as Satoru did. "Thank you for letting us take up your time. I'm sure you guys want to get back to your afternoon. It was nice meeting you."
And with that, Suguru and Satoru stood. Before Kento could voice any protest, which he found alarmingly to be his first instinct, they were moving. Moving away from him, taking along any evidence of their presence.
Except for one thing.
As the two of them walked strategically past Kento's side of the table, Suguru slipped something in front of him: a square napkin with dark ink scrawled on it in neat strokes.
We could always use another face around, and a series of numbers that made up a cellphone number.
Suguru and Satoru were gone. A polite exit, a perfunctory farewell. Nothing to suggest anything more than an innocuous conversation but this note, and even that could seem like benign social courtesy. They didn't need to make their intentions obvious, didn't need to offer anything but a phone number. They knew Kento was already ensnared.
Kento held the napkin in his hands like it was a holy grail; like it would burn him alive.
Fuck, he wanted them bad.
Yu, who he had nearly forgotten was there, snatched the napkin from his grip, reading the note with a smile so wide it looked like it hurt.
"Damn!" Yu squealed. "You know you have to text them now, right?"