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The ambulance lights almost made Satoru dizzy when he finally arrived on the street, accompanied by other nurses as they ran to attend to the patient who had just arrived. 

It was Satoru's first twenty-four-hour shift. He had already been working and awake for eighteen, but for lack of habit, it felt like weeks. His body was heavy and he felt like he was being moved only by adrenaline. It had been three months since he had stopped being a resident, and now he had landed his first opportunity in the Pediatric ICU, as an intensivist physician at a renowned hospital! He needed to be grateful. 

Especially because right now, at that exact moment, Satoru needed to save a child. 

The rear doors of the ambulance opened before it had even fully stopped, and the team moved in automatic synchrony around the gurney. Voices overlapped in the muggy late-afternoon air, fast, technical, too tense for that hour. Satoru pulled on his gloves as he walked alongside the paramedic next to the child, his eyes immediately going to the portable monitor attached to the side of the gurney. 

"Male, six years old, drowning in a residential pool. Found unconscious approximately seven minutes ago. Cardiac arrest at the scene, return of circulation after two doses of epinephrine. Saturating poorly since then." 

Satoru's stomach sank. 

The child looked far too small on top of that gurney. Wet. Pale. Motionless. 

The dark curls stuck to his forehead while oxygen was pushed aggressively through the mask. One of his arms hung slightly to the side, too thin, too fragile. For a terrible second, Satoru had the impression that he looked like a broken doll. 

"Focus." 

He pushed his own exhaustion to the back of his mind and immediately took the head of the gurney. 

"We're moving on three. One, two—"

They transferred the child to the hospital gurney almost running through the overly bright corridors of the pediatric emergency. The sound of the wheels echoed across the shiny floor while someone called out the vital signs aloud and another person was already preparing materials for intubation. 

Satoru walked alongside the gurney too fast for someone who had been awake for eighteen hours. But this was familiar. 

This he knew how to do; it was like entering a different mental state. The chaos and the exhaustion vanished, and the world narrowed until only the patient existed. 

"Pressure dropping."

"Preparing central access." 

"Saturation at seventy-eight." 

Satoru pulled the oxygen mask off the child carefully, tilting the small face back as he assessed the airway. 

"We're going to intubate." 

No one hesitated. 

A nurse placed the laryngoscope in his hands immediately. Another was already preparing the medications. The movements around him were fast, coordinated, almost rehearsed. The team in that ICU was good. Very good. 

Even so, Satoru could feel his own violent heartbeats behind his ribs. 

The child was so, so small. 

He hated when they were so small. 

"Sedation ready." 

"Tube ready." 

"Right." Satoru took a single deep breath before beginning the procedure. 

Everything around him seemed to slow down: the beeping monitor, the footsteps, the voices.

"Doctor Gojo." 

The voice next to him was strangely calm. 

Satoru turned his face minimally, just enough to see the nurse standing beside him holding the remaining materials. Dark hair tied in a low bun hidden under a baby-blue cap, soft shadows under tired eyes, and that wrinkled navy-blue uniform of someone who had clearly also been there for too long, but with one small detail on the uniform: it was covered in stickers and pins of children's characters. Gojo noticed (discreetly) that his shoes also had stickers. 

Suguru Geto. 

Satoru remembered him vaguely from the past few months. Pediatric ICU nurse, owner of a gentle voice that calmed even the most stressed of teenagers. Children loved him. Parents loved him. Even difficult doctors liked him. 

"You're shaking," Suguru said quietly, discreet enough for no one but the two of them to hear. 

Satoru almost answered automatically that he wasn't, but realized it would be a blatant lie, because his fingers really were trembling. It was almost imperceptible, but even so, Suguru had noticed. 

The dark eyes lingered on him for one more second before Suguru extended the endotracheal tube directly toward his hand.

"You can do it," he said simply. 

For some ridiculous reason, that made Satoru's chest tighten. 

He swallowed dry, adjusting his fingers around the laryngoscope once again before turning his full attention back to the child. 

"Right," he murmured. "Let's save him." 

The first attempt was clean, almost frighteningly clean for someone in Satoru's position. The tube slid precisely down the child's airway, and for a brief instant the tension in the room seemed to hold its breath along with him. Then the capnograph confirmed the position, and a low wave of relief passed through the room like silent electricity. Satoru let the air out slowly, not realizing he had been holding it. 

"Good," someone said in the background. 

"Securing the tube." 

"Saturation rising." 

The sound of the monitors changed rhythm, the child's heart still unstable, still fragile, but alive enough for the room to keep fighting. Satoru kept his eyes on the small chest as the mechanical ventilation began to work for him, watching every minimal expansion, every number that went up or down as if his own existence depended on it. Maybe it did. At that hour, it always did. 

"Fluid left? Do a maintenance bolus, now," he requested, his voice firmer than he felt inside.

"Already taken care of," someone replied. 

Suguru remained next to the gurney for a few more seconds, always with the same discreet and steady presence, as if he knew exactly when to help and when simply existing was enough. He gathered the used materials with quick, clean movements, but his dark eyes did not leave Satoru even for a second. There was no judgment there, no hurry, none of that empty admiration most people showed for the newly-arrived doctor. Suguru just watched as if he was reading something beyond the numbers, beyond the rush, beyond the mask of professionalism Satoru wore so well. 

When the room began to slow down, the initial chaos giving way to continuous work, Satoru noticed the weight on his shoulders again. His entire body seemed to remind him, in one stroke, that he had still been awake for eighteen hours, that his legs ached, that the back of his neck was stiff, and that his mouth was too dry for a shift that had barely begun. Even so, he couldn't pull himself away from the bed. Not yet. Not while the boy was breathing through a machine and the world was still hanging by a thread. 

"Is he going to the room now?" Suguru asked, his voice low, already coming close enough for the next task.

Satoru nodded once, his eyes still fixed on the readings. "If he stabilizes during transfer, yes. He'll need continuous monitoring. Hypoxic injury is still a concern. He can't leave the unit under any circumstances." 

Suguru didn't reply right away. He just observed the child for a moment with that quiet, almost thoughtful expression, and then adjusted the thermal blanket around the small body with care. There was something incredibly delicate in the way he did it, as if even in the middle of a critical case he still remembered that this boy was a child, not just a set of test results and parameters. That hit Satoru in an uncomfortably deep way. 

"He's cold," Suguru said, as if it were obvious. "No one deserves to wake up surrounded by people shouting in their ear and still be cold." 

Satoru let out a short breath through his nose, almost laughing despite the weight in his chest. "You say that like it's personal." 

Suguru lifted one corner of his mouth, small and tired. "I work with children. It is personal." 

The answer was so simple that Satoru needed a second longer than he would have liked to process it. Then he turned his face away again to hide the reaction, as if the issue were still just the patient. But something about that line stayed with him, uncomfortable and warm, like a point of light cutting through the exhaustion. 

Soon the Pediatric ICU team appeared for the transfer, and Satoru was forced to move again, returning to the role of doctor in the middle of the procedure, quickly reviewing medications, conduct, time of arrest, response to resuscitation, all with the coldness of someone who had to keep his head working while his heart tried to keep up. When they finally handed the child over to the unit, already in familiar hands, the air in the corridor felt too heavy. The kind of heavy that did not come from a lack of oxygen, but from relief mixed with fear. 

Satoru stood still a moment longer than he should have, watching the ICU doors close as the gurney disappeared. Only then did he feel, brutally, how much he was shaking again. 

It was at that moment that Suguru appeared next to him with two cups of coffee. It wasn't a grand gesture. There was no ceremony. It was just a cheap thermal cup from the cafeteria, placed directly into his hand as if they were best friends. 

"Drink this before you decide to faint in front of me and give me more work," Suguru said in an almost lazy tone. 

"In front of you?" Satoru murmured, raising the coffee with an expression too offended to be true. "What an honor." 

Suguru let out a brief sound that could almost be a laugh, and that was strangely worse, because the sound seemed tired and beautiful at the same time. Satoru brought the coffee to his mouth and immediately winced at the taste — too bitter, too strong, clearly prepared to keep alive only the desperate and the night-shift workers.

"My God." 

"Resurrected?" Suguru asked, almost comically. 

Satoru looked at him over the rim of the cup, and for some reason Suguru's calm expression irritated him in a new way. Not because it was unpleasant, but because it seemed impossible that anyone could remain so whole after a shift like that. Maybe he had always been that way by nature, or it was a built skill, which was probably more likely, because that's the kind of thing you only learn when you spend too much time holding other people's suffering in your hands. 

"Do you always do that?" Satoru asked before thinking better of it. 

Suguru raised his eyebrows. "Do what?" 

"You go around acting… like you know exactly what everyone needs and then disappear before anyone can thank you." 

This time, Suguru's smile was smaller, more direct, almost shy in the corner of his mouth. "It works better that way." 

Satoru opened his mouth to reply, but closed it right after, realizing he didn't really know what to say. Suguru seemed to take that as an opportunity. 

"You're new here, aren't you?" he asked casually. Satoru took another sip of coffee, feeling the hot liquid burn its way down his throat. Despite the bitterness, it seemed like the gears of his brain were starting to work again. 

"Two months," Satoru shook his head. "I finished my residency three months ago. Today is my first twenty-four-hour shift." 

"Well, officially welcome," Suguru let out a nasal little laugh as his lips curved into a smile. "The first twenty-four-hour shift really is a big event." 

Gojo ended up joining him in the laughter. "Yeah." 

The mood seemed lighter at that moment. No new patients arriving, the coffee no longer seemed so bad, just the two of them sitting in the corridor, with tired bodies but minds at peace. 

One more life had been saved that day. 

—✦— 

"You look like you're about to pass out." Suguru's voice made Satoru immediately stop what he was doing, turning toward him with huge wide blue eyes and his mouth slightly open. 

"Dude." Satoru grunted. "You can't just keep showing up like that, you know?"

"Another shift?" Suguru smiled.

Satoru sighed deeply, shaking his head as he turned his attention back to trying to get a few bloodstains out of his coat — a vein had just burst and gushed blood onto him a few minutes earlier, in the ICU — feeling his own brain melting little by little. 

Another week had gone by, and Satoru was completing three months at the hospital. Nothing like a hectic dawn in the ICU on a twelve-hour shift to celebrate. 

"It was technically supposed to end two hours ago," he murmured, scrubbing wet paper against the already-doomed white fabric. "But the ICU is packed, and I—" Satoru sighed deeply. "I wouldn't even be able to sleep thinking about those people if I just went home, you know?" 

"Of course I understand." Suguru's smile was so gentle it looked angelic. "I've done that too." 

Suguru leaned his shoulder against the wall next to the sink, his arms crossed loosely over his chest as he watched Satoru with an irritating calm. The cold light of the staff bathroom made his under-eye shadows deeper, dark strands escaping from the bun in a way too tired for someone who still seemed functional. 

Satoru honestly didn't understand how Suguru did it. 

He didn't understand how he managed to stay… soft. 

Because everyone else in that hospital had something hardened inside them. Doctors, nurses, residents, technicians — after enough time, they all started to develop that distant look, that mechanical haste, that specific kind of exhaustion that made people seem hollow on the inside. 

But not Suguru. 

Even tired, even after absurd shifts, there was still something deeply human about him. "You're staring," Suguru commented suddenly. 

Satoru blinked. "What?" 

"You spent about fifteen seconds looking at me without blinking." 

"Lie." 

"I timed it." 

"You're scary." 

"And you're delirious from lack of sleep." 

Satoru let out a low nasal laugh, finally giving up on saving the coat. The reddish stains had spread even more across the fabric, turning the disaster into something almost artistic. Great. 

Suguru took a few steps closer, taking the paper towel from his hand without asking permission. Satoru opened his mouth to protest, but closed it almost immediately when Suguru held the hem of his coat between his fingers, examining the damage up close.

His movements were simple. Casual, even. Satoru felt his own brain shut down for an instant.

"You should take this off," Suguru commented. "It's going to stain for good." 

"I have another in my locker." 

"Then why are you still wearing this one?" 

Satoru leaned his hips against the sink, tilting his head dramatically backward. "Because I don't have the physical strength to walk to the locker room." 

"Pathetic." 

"You came all the way here to humiliate me, Nurse Geto?" Satoru arched his eyebrows. 

Suguru huffed a short laugh, still focused on the futile attempt to clean dried blood from the white sleeve. Satoru watched his long fingers holding the fabric and felt a strange discomfort grow in his chest. 

"There." Suguru let go of the coat after a few seconds. "It's still horrible, but now it looks intentional." 

Satoru looked at the crooked stain spread across the front of the fabric. 

"It looks like I was involved in a murder." 

"In the ICU that doesn't really narrow down the possibilities." 

"Jesus Christ." 

Suguru smiled crookedly again. 

"You should sleep a little before you take another patient," Suguru commented, lower this time. Satoru let out a tired laugh. 

"Sure. I'll politely ask the ICU to stop collapsing for twenty minutes." 

"I'm being serious." The change in tone made Satoru immediately raise his eyes. Suguru was looking directly at him now, with no humor at all. 

And there it was again: that calm, worried expression capable of softening anyone's facade. As if Suguru could see beyond the brilliant doctor everyone else saw. As if he could see the exhaustion hidden under the arrogance, the trembling hands hidden under too much confidence, the fact that Satoru had been functioning on caffeine and pure fear of failure. 

"You don't have to act like you're indestructible all the time," Suguru said quietly. Satoru's heart stumbled against his ribs. 

For a horrible second, he wanted to answer with a joke.

He looked away, staring at the sink stained with water and diluted blood. 

"If I stop," he murmured after a few seconds, his voice lower than he intended, "I start to think."

"And is that so bad?" Suguru tilted his head to the side. 

It was. Thinking meant remembering the children they hadn't been able to save, the parents crying in the hallways, the monitors going silent. 

It meant being afraid of failing, and he didn't have time to be afraid, much less could he afford to fail. There were patients who needed him alive and functional. 

Before he could answer, the pager in his pocket vibrated aggressively, cutting the moment in half. They both looked at the device almost at the same time. 

Satoru closed his eyes for a second. 

"Of course," he murmured, exhausted. 

Suguru watched as he picked up the pager and quickly read the message on the screen. Then he saw the immediate change in his posture — the exhaustion being pushed back again, replaced by the quick, automatic concentration that always appeared when someone needed him. 

"Which room?" 

"Three hundred and one." 

Suguru sighed through his nose. "Did the seizure come back?" 

"Looks like it." 

"I'm going with you, he's my patient too." 

Then Suguru raised an eyebrow as if he had noticed something curious, and slowly extended his hand toward him. 

Satoru frowned. 

"What?" 

Suguru just pointed to the collar of his coat. 

"You have blood here too." 

Before Satoru could react, Suguru's fingers touched the exposed skin of his neck, distractedly wiping the small red stain near his collarbone. 

It was quick and simple, but the touch burned like a fever. 

Satoru stopped breathing for half a full second. And Suguru, completely unaware of the damage he was causing, just pulled away soon after.

"There," he said calmly. "Now you look less like a serial killer." 

Gojo couldn't tell if he was feeling that way because it had been a long time since he'd gone out with anyone or something, but holy shit, his whole body was on fire. 

"Doctor Gojo?" Suguru tilted his head to the side every time he was curious about something, and Satoru had already noticed that. 

"Satoru," Satoru murmured. "Call me Satoru when it's just us. 'Doctor Gojo' makes me sound unreachable." 

Suguru smiled. 

The two walked in silence to room three hundred and one after that. 

—✦— 

Room 312 of the Pediatric ICU was strangely silent that morning, except for the low sound of a cartoon playing on the television mounted near the ceiling and the constant noises of the heart monitors. The sunlight was partially passing through the blinds, drawing golden stripes across the light floor and across the hospital bed too small for anyone to spend weeks in. 

Suguru was sitting next to the bed as if he had all the time in the world. 

A six-year-old girl named Emi was holding a toy stethoscope against his chest with the most serious concentration possible, her tiny lips pursed as she pretended to examine him. The bright pink tube of the toy was completely crooked, and Suguru remained perfectly still, allowing it with an almost absurd patience. 

"Hmm…" Emi murmured dramatically, copying the tone of the adult doctors. "Your heart is making a strange noise." 

Suguru widened his eyes in fake shock. "That sounds serious." 

"Very serious." 

"Will I survive?" 

Emi thought for several whole seconds before shaking her head no. 

"No." 

Suguru let his shoulders drop theatrically. "Damn." 

The girl's mother let out a tired laugh from the chair next to the bed, finally seeming to relax after a whole night of practically no sleep. Emi's father was leaning near the window with a cup of coffee in his hands, watching the scene with that expression of silent gratitude. 

That wasn't just about medication, or protocols, or tests. Sometimes it was about making a child smile in a room full of frightening machines, and Suguru seemed to understand that better than anyone

on that whole floor. "Maybe I need an injection," Suguru commented quietly to Emi, still very serious. 

"No!" Emi immediately grabbed his arm as if she were protecting him from a terrible fate. "It hurts!" 

"So what does the doctor suggest?" 

Emi was silent for a moment, thinking hard about the most suitable solution. Then her eyes lit up. "Sticker." 

Suguru nodded slowly as if that were genius. "Of course. How did I not think of that before?" 

The girl opened a smile so big it almost disappeared into her small face, and her mother's chest seemed to ease a little at the sight. It was subtle. 

Satoru, who had already been in the room for about five minutes, stood at the door for a few seconds before stepping fully inside, holding a chart in his hands and a horrible coffee from the machine in the other. His coat was slightly wrinkled after hours of his shift, his light hair messy in an almost criminal way, and yet his presence drew attention immediately. 

Emi was the first to notice. 

"Doctor Gojo!" she announced as if she were denouncing the arrival of someone suspicious. Suguru turned his face toward him at the same instant. 

And smiled. 

My God. 

What was that strange, intrusive feeling in Satoru's chest? 

It was a small smile, almost tired, but so naturally happy at seeing him that something warm immediately spread through Satoru's chest before he could even defend himself. 

"You're interrupting my consultation," Suguru commented casually.

"Sorry." Satoru entered the room with false solemnity. "I didn't know we had a new doctor on the team." 

Emi raised her chin immediately. "I'm better than you." 

Suguru literally had to lower his head to hide his laugh. 

Satoru put his hand on his chest, dramatically offended. "That was cruel." 

"You're weird," Emi added without any mercy. 

"I think I can survive that," Satoru shot back with a little laugh. 

Emi's father let out a loud laugh he couldn't help, and even her mother covered her mouth trying to hide her tired smile.

Emi laughed so hard that she started coughing in the middle of the laughter, and immediately both Satoru and Suguru completely changed their posture. Suguru was the first to lean forward, carefully resting his hand on her back while Satoru was already checking the monitors out of automatic instinct. 

"Breathe slowly for me, princess," Suguru said softly. 

Emi nodded between small coughs until she finally regained the normal rhythm of her breathing. Suguru kept his hand on her back for a few more seconds, watching attentively until he was sure everything was okay. 

Only then did he relax again. 

"See?" Emi murmured, still hoarse. "You need stickers." 

Suguru smiled immediately. "The doctor clearly knows what she's talking about." Satoru watched the scene in silence for a moment too long. 

He watched the way Suguru looked at that child as if she really mattered. And he knew that, to Suguru, she did. 

—✦— 

Despite spending a lot of time in the Pediatric ICU and liking children, Satoru wasn't all that good with little human beings. Children always said he was weird and saw him as some kind of alien, despite his (clearly failed) efforts to fit in. 

"Sweetheart, you need to take your medicine." Satoru smiled, extremely gently, as he tried to encourage one of his patients hospitalized in the Pediatric ICU to take her medication. 

Ren was just a few days away from being discharged after a month hospitalized for having suffered a very serious car accident that caused her three cardiorespiratory arrests and some sequelae that would never completely disappear. 

She was eight years old. She was a fun girl, but extremely stubborn. Her lips were closed in a straight line as she shook her head no with conviction, refusing to take the medicine. Satoru sighed. 

"Ren, I don't want to have to give you intravenous medication again. I thought we had moved past that." 

"I want to leave," she grumbled, looking to the side. 

"You'll leave if you take the medicine." 

"No, I want to go now!" Ren waved her arms as if she wanted to fly away. 

Before Satoru could respond, he felt a warm hand touch his shoulder, and he didn't need to look back to know who it was.

"Ren." Suguru's melodic voice rang through the room. The girl's eyes lit up the moment they spotted Suguru, and she immediately broke into a smile. "You need to be nicer to Doctor Gojo, don't you think?" 

Ren pouted. "He's annoying." 

Ouch. Satoru almost made a pained face at that comment. Suguru couldn't contain the small chuckle that escaped his lips. 

"He's doing everything he can to take care of you," Suguru stroked Ren's hair for a moment before pulling out a sheet of Super Mario stickers from his coat pocket. Ren smiled as if she had just won the lottery. "Be nice to Doctor Gojo and take your medicine so you can go home, okay? I'll bring you another one of these if you promise." 

"I promise, Mr. Geto!" 

Suguru held out his pinky finger toward her. "Pinky swear?" 

"Pinky swear," Ren laughed as she hooked her pinky to Suguru's, and finally turned to Satoru, accepting the medication offered and taking it all with a glass of water. 

"You're a good girl, Ren." Suguru's smile didn't disappear for a single second. 

Satoru watched the scene feeling his heart melt little by little. 

My God. 

He could only be touch-starved on cosmic levels to be feeling this way around Suguru. "How do you do that?" Satoru asked when they left Ren's room. 

"Do what?" Suguru replied carelessly. 

"That…" Satoru gestured toward the room. "Get along so well with kids." 

Suguru looked at him sideways as they walked through the silent corridor, the sound of their own footsteps mixing with the distant beep of the monitors behind closed doors. 

"I talk to them," Suguru replied, as if the answer were obvious. 

Satoru let out a short laugh through his nose, in disbelief. "No, seriously."

"I'm being serious."

"That doesn't explain anything," Satoru grumbled. 

Suguru stopped for a second near the hallway window, turning slightly to face him. 

"You try to negotiate with them as if they were adults," he answered finally. "They're children. It's not logic that works in this case… it's listening, affection." 

Satoru was silent for an instant, processing the simplicity of that answer. 

"So you're saying I don't treat children with affection?"

Suguru opened a small smile, clearly contained. "I'm saying you seem like the type of doctor who walks into a room trying to win a negotiation as if you were in a court hearing." 

The honesty threw Satoru into immediate discomfort and, at the same time, into an inexplicable relief. Because it was true, and maybe that was exactly why hearing it had been bothering him so much. He was good with technology, with protocols, with quick decisions in critical situations. He was good when he needed to save a life in seconds. But with small children, with bitter-tasting medications, with fear stamped on too-big eyes… he always seemed a little too tall, a little too bright, as if his presence were more frightening than reassuring. 

"You make it look easy," Satoru murmured, looking at his own feet as they walked. "It isn't easy." 

"But you make it look that way." 

Suguru was quiet for a few seconds, and his expression softened in an almost imperceptible way. "It's practice, I think." 

Satoru let out a low sound of agreement, but kept looking at him a little longer than he should have. There was something unfairly beautiful about the way Suguru handled people. It wasn't just patience. It was attention. The kind of attention that made someone feel seen without being too exposed. Satoru felt that old uncomfortable sensation again, the small warm tightness in his chest that had been appearing more and more often around Suguru, as if his body were starting to recognize danger and comfort as the same thing. 

"You're good, Satoru." Suguru smiled in his direction. "Really. It's not hard to like you. You're a little weird, but who isn't, right?" 

Satoru's brain had a brief short-circuit. He looked at Suguru as if he had just heard a death threat. Suguru laughed. 

"Do you get uncomfortable with compliments?" Suguru asked, in an almost curious tone.

"You called me weird," Satoru tried to deflect. 

Suguru raised his eyebrows. "Satoru." 

Satoru grunted. 

"I don't get uncomfortable with compliments," he murmured. "It's just… it feels different when it comes from you. You're too pleasant." 

My God, what a horrible excuse. 

Suguru tilted his head, clearly amused. "Interesting." 

Satoru let out an exasperated sound and started walking again, trying to recover a minimum of dignity before going to the next patient. Suguru followed without rushing, his footsteps light despite the long shift, as if he never needed to run to keep up with his own pace. 

"You look cute when you're embarrassed," Suguru said after a few seconds, lower. Gojo felt as if he were going to explode at that exact moment. 

"Suguru!" 

Suguru covered his mouth with his hand in an attempt to muffle his own laughter, shaking his head as they reached the small staff kitchen of the unit, and Satoru went in first, heading straight for the coffee machine as if he were running away from Suguru. Suguru lingered at the door for a moment, watching him, and the silence between them no longer felt uncomfortable as it had in the first weeks. It was more comfortable now, despite Suguru's embarrassing comments. But Satoru was starting to like him in the middle of these small pauses, between one case and another, between one child and another, between one shift and the next. 

While the coffee was being prepared with the same sad sound as always, Satoru rested his hands on the counter and sighed, his shoulders giving way a little. 

"I think I need… to relax a little," he commented casually, pretending Suguru hadn't just called him "cute." 

"We could do that," Suguru nodded. 

"We?" Satoru repeated, slowly turning his face with an almost suspicious expression, as if Suguru had just suggested something illegal inside the hospital. 

Suguru leaned a shoulder against the doorframe of the kitchen and crossed his arms, watching him with that irritating calm. 

"Yes. We." 

Satoru let out a short, humorless laugh. "Are you including yourself in my emotional collapse?"

"I'm including myself in your desperate attempt not to fall asleep standing up."

"That's much worse." 

Suguru shrugged, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. "Maybe. But it's more effective." 

The coffee finished dripping with a low, sad sound, as if it too were tired of existing. Satoru picked up the thermal cup and tipped the dark liquid with an expression of absolute disdain, already anticipating the horrible taste before even trying it. Even so, he drank a sip and immediately winced. 

"God, this is a crime against humanity." 

"You keep drinking it," Suguru pointed out. 

"Because I'm a man of principles." 

"You live on caffeine." Another sharp jab.

Satoru closed his eyes for a second, faking offense, but the truth was that Suguru's presence made everything a little less heavy. Even the bad coffee seemed more bearable when he was there, standing at the kitchen door with his posture too relaxed for someone who had also spent the entire day running from room to room. 

"I was thinking—" Suguru said then, after a short silence. 

Satoru raised his eyebrows. "That's dangerous." 

"—there's a rooftop on top of the hospital." 

"There is?" 

"There is," Suguru nodded. 

"And why have I never been there before?" 

"Because you probably don't leave the floor enough to find these things out." 

Satoru opened his mouth to retort, but closed it almost the same instant because it was too true to be defended with dignity. Most of his life over the past three months had been reduced to corridors, rooms, emergencies, the cafeteria when he remembered to eat, and the rest area when his body simply gave up obeying him. 

"Are you suggesting I go up to the top of the hospital to… relax?" 

Suguru nodded. "Five minutes. It won't kill you." 

"You say that with a lot of confidence for someone who's known me such a short time." 

Suguru let out a low laugh, and Satoru had that irritating sensation again, that the sound of his laugh was something his body registered faster than his brain could keep up with. It was absurd. Ridiculous. Entirely inconvenient. 

Even so, he heard his own voice asking before he could think it through: "And what exactly do we do up there?" Suguru took a full second too long to answer, and that for some reason made Satoru's stomach shift in a strange way. 

"Rest," he said finally, with a slight smile. "We talk without monitors beeping in the background. You stop pretending you're not on the verge of a collapse. I pretend I believe you." 

"You're very arrogant for someone so kind." 

"It's balance," Suguru corrected. 

Satoru let out a brief sound through his nose that could almost pass for a laugh. Then he looked again at the coffee in his hand, evaluating the proposal with the ridiculous seriousness of someone who was already too tired for any important decision. 

"Five minutes," he repeated, as if he needed to test the idea on his tongue.

"Five." 

"If anyone calls me, I come down." 

"Sure." 

"And if there's an emergency…" 

"You come down." 

Satoru finally smiled for real, small and tired. 

"Okay. Let's go before I change my mind." 

Suguru pushed the kitchen door open with his hip and made a brief gesture for him to go first down the corridor. As they walked side by side, Satoru noticed that the hospital felt different at that hour. Quieter, still alive, but without the constant rush of before. The long, bright corridors gave the feeling that the entire world had been reduced to that stretch of tile, fluorescent light, and shared exhaustion. Somewhere far away, a baby was crying in a muffled way. In another, a monitor was marking some frequency in steady rhythm. Everything kept going. Everything continued. Even exhausted, the hospital didn't stop for anyone. 

The elevator was empty when they arrived, and that seemed like a small miracle. Satoru went in first, still holding the coffee cup, and Suguru pressed the button for the rooftop before standing next to him, close enough for his shoulder to almost touch Satoru's arm in the narrow space. The silence in the elevator was different from the silence before. Less comfortable, perhaps, because suddenly Satoru was too aware of everything: of Suguru's presence, of the subtle warmth beside him, of his own pale reflection in the brushed metal of the doors. 

"You're very quiet," Suguru noted. 

"I'm mentally preparing for the open air." 

"You'll survive." 

The elevator went up in silence for a few seconds until the soft chime of the rooftop floor sounded and the doors slid open. 

The rooftop was much smaller than he had expected. 

There was nothing grand about it. Just the night wind, the cold concrete, a metal railing all around, and the distant view of the city lights spreading below like a map of small broken stars. The air seemed too clean to match the rest of the hospital. 

Satoru stopped in the middle of the open space for a moment, blinking slowly, as if his own body were trying to understand the abrupt change of environment. 

"It's not bad," he admitted. 

"It isn't."

Suguru walked over to the railing and rested his hands on it, looking down at the city. 

Satoru spent a few seconds just watching him from behind. Suguru's dark uniform swayed slightly in the wind, and the loose strands of his hair escaped in a disorganized, beautiful way that left him strangely vulnerable. His face, seen in profile, looked more tired in that quiet place. Less protected and… less performative. 

It was uncomfortable to realize how much Satoru liked this version of him. A more raw and real version. 

"Do you come up here often?" he asked, trying to sound casual and failing a little.

"When I want to escape." 

"From the hospital?" Satoru tilted his head to the side. 

"From myself." 

The answer came so quietly that Satoru had to look at him again. 

Suguru was still looking at the city, but his expression had changed. There was a weight there, something quieter, deeper than the lightness he usually showed downstairs. As if the cold wind had stripped away for a few seconds that layer of calm he wore all the time. 

Satoru stayed silent out of respect, not joking this time. 

After a moment, Suguru let his head fall slightly back and exhaled slowly. 

"Sometimes I come up here just to remember that the world is still bigger than this floor."

Satoru felt something tighten in his chest in an unexpected way. 

"That was…" he began, but stopped, because he didn't know how to finish. 

Suguru looked at him sideways. "Too deep?" 

"Annoyingly beautiful." 

Suguru's expression wavered for a fraction of a second, as if he hadn't been expecting that. Then he laughed quietly, almost shyly. 

Satoru kept looking at him with an attention that no longer seemed all that innocent, and when he noticed his own focus, he turned his face toward the city below as if that would solve something. 

It didn't. 

"You also need to get out of your own head sometimes," Suguru said, still smiling slightly. 

Satoru let out a tired sigh and rested his elbows on the railing, mirroring his position. "And do you think this is going to work?" 

"Maybe not. But I can try."

The wind blew between them, cold enough to make Satoru notice how warm he was inside. Maybe it was the coffee, or the exhaustion, or the fact that Suguru was too close and too calm and too beautiful, all at the same time, like a presence impossible to ignore. 

For a few seconds, they stood there in silence, looking at the city lights. The distant noise of the hospital seemed smaller and less crushing up there. Satoru felt his shoulders give way a little, as if his body had finally understood that no one was demanding anything of him at that exact moment. 

"I barely leave the hospital since I started," he admitted in a low voice. 

Suguru turned his face to him at the same instant. "I know." 

The answer was so simple that Satoru had to face him back. 

"How do you know?" 

"Because you always look surprised when someone offers you a chair to sit in."

Satoru let out a short laugh, tired and genuine this time. "That was mean." 

"I'm a fairly observant person," Suguru smiled. "You deserve to relax, you know? Rest a little." 

"My whole life I've never been… allowed that. To rest." Satoru admitted before he could even think twice. "I mean— Sorry, damn, that was very—" 

"You can keep going." Suguru's hand gently took one of Satoru's hands. 

Satoru felt as if he were going to melt and turn into pudding on the floor. 

"I came from a family of renowned doctors," he said in a lower tone. "I was never allowed to think of any other profession but this one. I'm an only child, and my parents put all their expectations on me." Satoru's gaze drifted to the city lights, and suddenly he felt so small, like a little ant compared to the universe. "I like being a doctor, Suguru, that's not the problem. But I've never been seen as someone… someone real. Just—" Satoru's voice broke humiliatingly. "Just a machine. Someone made to serve, please, give pride, and demonstrate competence." 

Suguru didn't let go of his hand. 

The cold dawn wind continued to pass between them on the silent rooftop, swaying Satoru's white strands and making the dark fabric of Suguru's uniform ripple softly, but the touch remained firm, warm, real. Suguru's fingers were intertwined with his without any pressure, as if he were just offering presence in case Satoru wanted to accept it. And that, somehow, was worse. Much worse. 

Because Satoru wasn't used to kindness without expectation. 

Not that kind. 

He kept his eyes fixed on the city below for a few seconds, unable to face Suguru directly after having said so much. His chest felt strange, tight and vulnerable in a way that would normally make him flee immediately through a bad joke or some arrogant comment. But he was too tired to flee. And

Suguru had that silent way of staying there without pressuring, without forcing words out, just… waiting. 

"You are someone real to me," Suguru said quietly, as if it were a secret only Satoru could hear. Satoru's heart clenched. 

He finally turned his face slightly toward him, finding the dark eyes watching him with such careful attention that it was almost painful. There was no pity there. There was none of that condescending look he sometimes received when someone noticed how hard he worked. Suguru just listened, as if every word mattered. 

"You're an incredible doctor," Suguru said as he smiled gently. "You're kind. People here at the hospital like you, even if you don't know it. And behind everything we see daily, you are still you. Regardless of what your parents or anyone else has told you, you are still you. And honestly? That, in itself, is reason enough to be proud." 

The sentence hit Satoru squarely. 

For a moment everything felt too silent. Too distant. As if the entire hospital had disappeared a few floors below and only the two of them existed on that narrow rooftop surrounded by the city lights. 

"I—" Satoru tried to formulate a coherent sentence, but couldn't. 

Suguru watched him in silence for a moment too long. 

Then he came just a little closer. Enough for his shoulder to touch his lightly. 

"You don't have to destroy yourself to take care of people," he said quietly. 

Satoru felt the touch through the coat like electricity. 

Ridiculous. 

Completely ridiculous. 

He had already been hugged by colleagues after difficult losses. He had already brushed against dozens of people during procedures, emergencies, resuscitations. Physical contact had never meant much inside a hospital. 

But this was different, and he knew why: because it was Suguru. 

Satoru almost laughed when he realized it. He used to think it was impossible to be drawn to someone in such a short time, much less inside his own work environment. 

But Suguru showed it was easy. Everything around Suguru was easy. 

Satoru lowered his eyes slowly to their hands still joined, and Suguru's thumb absentmindedly stroked the side of his hand once.

That almost destroyed him. "Do you do that without realizing?" Satoru asked quietly. Suguru tilted his head slightly. "Do what?" 

"This." Satoru raised their interlaced hands minimally between them. "Touch me like this."

Suguru's expression wavered for the first time that night. 

His dark eyes dropped quickly to their hands, as if he had only really become aware of it at that instant. Even so, Suguru didn't pull away. 

"Does it bother you?" he asked, equally quiet. 

God. 

That question should have been easy, but Satoru could feel his heart beating too hard inside his chest, heavy and warm against his tired ribs, as he stared at Suguru so close to him on that empty rooftop. 

"It bothers me that I like it," he admitted before he could stop himself. 

Suguru's eyes widened almost imperceptibly, and for a second Satoru wanted to throw himself off the entire building just to escape his own honesty. Great. Perfect. Excellent way to destroy a functional friendship in the middle of a shift. 

"I'm very tired," he tried to laugh nervously, looking away immediately. "Forget that. Clearly my brain melted." 

But Suguru squeezed his hand a little more firmly before Satoru could pull it back. "Satoru." 

His voice came out in an almost intimate tone. 

Satoru turned his face slowly again, and almost immediately regretted it when he found Suguru looking at him that way. 

That calm, attentive look had vanished. 

There was something much more vulnerable and honest there in that moment. "Do you really think you're the only one here liking this too much?" Suguru asked softly. 

Satoru's brain simply stopped completely. For several whole seconds he could only stare at Suguru in absolute silence, feeling the cold wind hit his face while the rest of his body seemed too warm, too alive, too aware of the closeness between them. 

"Suguru…" 

The name escaped his mouth almost without breath.

Suguru took one small step closer, slow enough to give Satoru room to pull away if he wanted. But Satoru didn't move. He couldn't. 

His eyes involuntarily dropped to Suguru's mouth for an instant too quick, and Suguru noticed immediately, because his breath wavered minimally before asking, still quietly: 

"Can I kiss you?" 

Satoru felt something inside him break in a silent way. He had already given up thinking it was just exhaustion or neediness, because he knew he liked Suguru's company during shifts, liked their conversations, gentle laughs, shared coffees, liked when they spoke together with the patients, and liked even more seeing Suguru playing with the children of the Pediatric ICU. 

After limiting himself for so long because of work, study, and expectations too high on him, Satoru realized that he should also allow himself. 

"Please." 

Suguru kissed him slowly, so slowly it almost hurt. 

His free hand rose to Satoru's face with absurd care, his fingers cold from the wind softly touching his jaw as their lips finally met. And God, Satoru wasn't prepared for it. He wasn't prepared for how gentle the kiss was. Warm. Patient. There was no rush at all in the way Suguru kissed him, and that only made Satoru melt even more. 

Satoru released a trembling breath against his mouth without realizing, his fingers automatically squeezing Suguru's hand as he tilted his face a little more in his direction. He heard when Suguru let out a low grunt, almost imperceptible against his lips, and that woke him up more than any horse-sized dose of caffeine. 

Slowly, Satoru let go of Suguru's hand, now using both hands to hold Suguru's hair, which immediately came loose from the bun when Gojo pulled it. The two sighed deeply when Geto's teeth grazed the albino's lips, before nibbling lightly. 

"Satoru…" Geto's tongue softly brushed over the place where he had bitten. "What time does your shift end?" 

"Seven in the morning." Satoru's response sounded like a purr. 

"Do you…" Geto's violet eyes lifted to meet Gojo's sparkling blue ones, and Satoru recognized a new expression in Suguru as soon as their eyes met. 

Desire. 

"… do you want to come to my place after the shift? I get off at six-thirty, I can wait for you if you want—" 

But before Suguru could say anything else, Satoru was already kissing him again.

—✦—

The morning sun filtered timidly through the thin curtains of Suguru's apartment, painting the room in golden, soft tones. The air carried the fresh scent of disinfectant that impregnated their work clothes. The door closed with a soft click behind Satoru, who leaned against it for a moment, his eyes half-closed, feeling the exhaustion evaporate little by little. 

Suguru's apartment was simple, but perfectly organized, with a few strategic decorations that gave it a… Suguru-like look. There were books stacked in almost meticulous order on a low shelf, a few plants in the kitchen window, small paintings on the walls with delicate illustrations and warm tones, and a couch that seemed to invite any exhausted person to collapse there and never get up again. The contrast with the hospital was so great that Satoru blinked a few times, still slightly disoriented, as if his body didn't quite know where the dawn ended and the rest of life began. Suguru took off his shoes calmly, dropped his bag on the back of the living room chair, and then looked at him with that same gentle smile that had left Satoru completely useless hours earlier. 

"Make yourself at home," Suguru said, his voice still low from sleep and exhaustion. "If I had known you'd be coming over, I would have made the place less… normal." 

Satoru let out a short laugh, finally pulling away from the door to actually come in. "Your apartment having plants already feels like a personal affront." 

Suguru raised an eyebrow as he approached the kitchen. "Do you want coffee?"

"I always want coffee." 

"You just got off a twelve-hour shift." 

"Exactly because of that I always want coffee." 

Suguru observed him for a second before laughing through his nose and shaking his head, as if he had already given up arguing anything with him. Satoru followed behind him with slow steps, still feeling his entire body heavy, but now it was a different weight. It wasn't the exhaustion crushing his shoulders like at the hospital. It was just that strange kind of tiredness that came after something too intense, after a confession that had been kept for too long and a kiss that still seemed to be burning on his mouth. He stopped near the kitchen counter and stood watching Suguru fiddle with something in the cupboard, dark strands messily disheveled in an absurdly beautiful way, the dress shirt slightly wrinkled, his expression more relaxed than any Satoru had seen on him until then. 

"You're looking at me a lot," Suguru commented without turning his face. 

Satoru, who definitely hadn't been discreet, raised his shoulders with false naturalness. "It's the effect of exhaustion." 

"Ah, of course. Exhaustion." 

"Yeah. It makes me evaluate people better."

Suguru let out a low laugh as he placed two mugs on the counter and leaned on it facing him. "So what did you evaluate?"

Satoru was silent for a moment, because there was a lot going on inside his head, and for the first time in a long while, none of it was work. He evaluated Suguru's face with an almost indecent attention. The soft curve of his mouth. The slight under-eye shadows. The way he looked tired but still incredibly whole. The way his presence filled the space without any effort. And, mainly, the way he was standing there looking at Satoru as if there were nothing more important in the world than waiting for his answer. 

"That you're too annoying to be so beautiful," Satoru said finally. 

Suguru opened a slow, genuine smile, and that expression made Satoru's chest tighten in an almost painful way. 

"Beautiful, huh?" Suguru asked, feigning casualness. 

Satoru turned his face away immediately, feeling his face heat up. 

Suguru laughed for real now, a low, warm laugh that left him even more disconcerting. The problem was that there was no point running from his own embarrassment when the other one stayed there so close, so calm, so naturally beautiful that it seemed unfair. 

"Are you okay?" Suguru asked then, the amusement diminishing a little in his voice. "Seriously." 

Satoru lifted his eyes slowly, surprised by the question. Suguru's tone had changed again, now more careful, more intimate, as if he genuinely wanted to know whether the kiss had been good or whether Satoru was just being carried away by exhaustion. That hit him in a strange way, because he realized he wasn't used to anyone asking like that. Not in that way. 

"I am," he replied, his voice lower than usual. "It's just… still trying to process that this is really happening." 

Suguru tilted his head slightly, watching him with that patient attention that was starting to dismantle all of his defenses one by one.

"And is that bad?"

Satoru let out a slow sigh, resting one of his hands on the counter.

"No. On the contrary." He swallowed dry, a little awkward with his own honesty. "It's just that I spent too long thinking I needed to be useful all the time. And now I'm here, in your house, after having kissed you on the rooftop of a hospital, and I don't really know how to act without feeling like something is going to go wrong." 

Suguru was quiet for two seconds. Then he set the mug aside and approached slowly, unhurried, until he was right in front of him and slowly raised his hand to touch his face. Satoru felt his heart speed up for an absolutely pathetic reason, because that closeness now had a different weight. It wasn't the impulsive touch of dawn. It was the kind of distance that allowed you to notice too many details: the light scent of soap on Suguru's uniform, the warmth coming from his body, the way he lowered his eyes a little before speaking. 

"You don't have to act in any specific way with me," Suguru said, his voice low enough to sound like a secret. "Not today. Not now. Not ever."

Satoru kept looking at him without being able to answer right away. There was something so absurdly comforting about that sentence that he almost felt like laughing and crying at the same time. Because no one had ever spoken to him like that. No one had ever told him that he could simply be. Not as a doctor. Not as the prodigy son. Not as someone who had to live up to the expectations of an entire family. Just as himself. 

"You say dangerously beautiful things without even seeming to be trying," Satoru murmured.

Suguru smiled crookedly, his expression soft. "I am trying a little." 

The air between them shifted again, became slower, warmer, more charged. Satoru realized he was caught in Suguru's gaze and no longer made any effort to escape. Everything in him felt tired, sensitive, too open. And maybe that's why Suguru's hand touching the side of his face was so devastating. The gesture was simple, almost too careful, with his fingers tracing the line of his jaw until they rested lightly near his ear, as if he were confirming that Satoru was even still there.

"You can kiss me again," Satoru said before thinking, his voice coming out lower, hoarser, more sincere than he had planned. 

Suguru's expression wavered for a fraction of a second, as if that request had hit something too deep in him as well. Then he smiled, small, almost soft in a way that made his face even more beautiful, and tilted his head to rest his forehead against Satoru's for a brief instant before kissing him again. This time it was easier to lose himself. Satoru brought one of his hands to the back of Suguru's neck, feeling the loose strands of hair between his fingers, while the other ended up at his waist without him noticing when it had happened. The kiss was still calm, but now there was something more there too, something deeper. 

When they pulled apart, it was only enough to be able to breathe. 

Suguru kept his forehead pressed against his for one more second before murmuring, almost in a whisper: "You can stay here all day, if you want." 

Satoru closed his eyes for a moment, feeling his body relax for the first time in hours. "That sounded dangerously tempting." 

"Good." 

"I'm being serious." 

"So am I." Suguru lowered his hand from his face to his neck, the touch warm, reassuring. "You sleep a little, I'll make us something to eat when you wake up. Then you decide whether you want to leave or whether you want to keep looking at me like a personal problem." 

Satoru let out a sound between a laugh and a sigh, leaning his forehead against Suguru's shoulder for a second, too exhausted to keep up the act. "You're spoiling me." 

"I'm treating you like a human." 

"Dangerous."

"I know." 

Satoru bit his own lower lip. "Suguru… I don't want to sleep."

Suguru's gaze darkened a little, as if Satoru's words had ignited something he had been holding back as carefully as the rest of the night. He didn't reply right away, but his hand, which still rested on Satoru's neck, slowly slid down his collarbone, his fingers tracing the line of the wrinkled shirt with a lightness that contrasted with the intensity of the touch. The air in the kitchen seemed to grow denser, the smell of forgotten coffee in the mugs mixing with the warmth radiating from their bodies. 

"You don't want to sleep?" Suguru repeated, his voice low, hoarse, as if testing the ground. His eyes traveled across Satoru's face, lingering on the lips still swollen from the previous kiss, and then rising to meet his gaze. There was a question there, not just curiosity, but an implicit permission, a desire to go further. 

Satoru felt a shiver run up his spine, the exhaustion of his body transforming into something more urgent, more alive. He shook his head slowly, taking a step closer, until their bodies lightly touched — his chest against Suguru's, the fabric of their clothes creating a frustrating barrier.

"No. Right now, I want you." The words came out unfiltered, raw, and Satoru saw their impact on Suguru's face: his pupils dilating, his chest rising faster. 

Suguru didn't hesitate any longer. He captured Satoru's lips in a kiss that was anything but calm this time — urgent, hungry, as if all the restraint of the dawn had dissolved there. His hands rose to Satoru's back, pulling him closer to himself, while his tongue explored with an intensity that made Satoru moan low against his mouth. Satoru returned with the same ferocity, his hands gripping Suguru's waist, feeling the tense muscles under his shirt. They moved together, awkward in the cramped kitchen space, but without pauses — a stumble against the counter, the sound of mugs clinking, ignored. 

"Bedroom," Suguru murmured between kisses, his voice broken, as he lightly nibbled on Satoru's lower lip. He guided him out of the kitchen, his hands never leaving his body, as if he feared Satoru would evaporate. The hallway was short, but it felt eternal, with hurried touches: Satoru undoing the buttons of Suguru's shirt, exposing the warm skin marked by the exhaustion of the shift, while Suguru slipped his hands under Satoru's jacket, pulling it away. They fell onto the bed almost like a tangle, the mattress giving way under the weight of the two of them. Suguru rolled on top, pinning Satoru down with his body, but not in a dominant way — it was protective, possessive, as if he wanted to absorb every sigh, every tremor. His lips traveled down Satoru's neck, leaving a trail of warm kisses and light bites that made his breath falter. 

"You're incredible," Suguru whispered against the albino's skin, his voice vibrating, as he unbuttoned the rest of Satoru's shirt, opening it to expose his heaving chest. His fingers traced the contours of the muscles, lingering on the sensitive nipples, circling and squeezing until Satoru arched his back, a moan escaping without control. 

Satoru wouldn't be left behind. His hands explored Suguru's body with feverish urgency — opening the belt, pulling the pants down, feeling the hard erection against his thigh.

"Suguru… fuck, you're driving me crazy," he panted, reversing positions with a fluid movement, now on top, kissing his way down from Suguru's chest to his abdomen, licking the skin salty from sweat. He went lower, freeing Suguru's cock from his underwear, and wrapped his hand around it, jerking him off slowly at first, then more firmly, feeling him pulse and harden even more under the touch. 

Suguru moaned loudly, his head falling back against the pillow, the strands of hair spreading like a dark halo. 

"Satoru… keep going," he pleaded, his voice hoarse with desire, one hand buried in Satoru's white hair, guiding him without forcing. Satoru obeyed, lowering his head to wrap his lips around the head, sucking with a slow, deliberate suction that made Suguru tremble all over. His tongue swirled, exploring every vein, every sensitivity, while his free hand squeezed the base, keeping the rhythm. The sounds — Suguru's muffled moans, the wet smack of his mouth — filled the room, making Satoru more and more aroused. Satoru could feel his own cock pulsing against the irritating fabric of the pants he was still wearing, begging for relief while he swallowed more and more of Suguru's cock. 

"Fuck," Suguru cursed, his fingers tightening more and more in Satoru's hair in a way that was painfully pleasurable. "Fuck, what a delicious mouth, like this I'm not going to last—" Satoru practically purred against Suguru's cock, the vibrations making Suguru moan louder and louder, his eyes rolling back from so much pleasure. 

"Baby, I'm going to come!" Suguru practically whimpered as his cock pulsed once, twice, three times in Satoru's hot, wet mouth before he finally spilled. Satoru didn't waste time, swallowing every drop with pleasure, his blue eyes fixed on Suguru's face. 

When Satoru lifted himself up, there was still a little semen running down the corner of his mouth, and he opened a sly smile, different from anything Suguru had ever seen. Suguru immediately pulled Satoru back into a kiss, sharing the taste of himself. 

"I want you inside me," Satoru murmured against his lips, his entire body burning with need. Suguru nodded, his eyes dark and full of a fierce tenderness, as he reached for the lubricant in the nightstand drawer. He always kept it there, even if he didn't use it that often. 

Better one prepared man than two with no preparation at all. 

Satoru got rid of his own pants and boxers in an instant, and Suguru practically salivated when his cock sprang out, hard and extremely thick. 

Suguru's fingers, already wet with the lubricant, slid slowly to Satoru's entrance, which contracted a little at the cold touch. "You're tight," Suguru murmured, circling the entrance for a while as his free hand stroked Satoru's cock slowly, until he finally slid the finger in, making Satoru let out a labored moan. 

He prepared Satoru patiently, curving his finger to hit the spot that made him cry out softly. "Relax… I've got you, beautiful," Suguru whispered, kissing his forehead, his chin, as he added a second finger, stretching, opening. Satoru writhed, his nails digging into Suguru's back, the pleasure mixed with a

vulnerability that left him exposed but safe. Suguru never let up on the strokes on Satoru's cock, making sure he felt every possible pleasure and was completely ready to receive him. When he felt that Satoru was already more relaxed, he inserted a second finger, stretching him deliciously. Suguru's cock was throbbing again, neglected and begging to be inside Satoru. 

"May I?" Suguru purred in Satoru's ear, who promptly nodded, almost desperate. Suguru's tongue licked the lobe of the albino's ear slowly, who moaned again, and let out a small grunt when Suguru's fingers pulled away. 

When Suguru finally positioned himself, pushing into Satoru with a guttural moan, the world seemed to narrow to that room. He moved slowly at first, feeling the tight heat envelop him, Satoru's muscles contracting around him. 

"Shit… you're perfect," Suguru panted, picking up the pace, the thrusts deep and rhythmic, hitting against Satoru's prostate with every stroke. 

Satoru clung to him, legs wrapping around his waist, moaning loudly, his cock brushing between their abdomens, pre-cum lubricating the friction. 

"Suguru," the albino whimpered. "You're so good…" 

"Do you like it, love?" Suguru smiled slyly, his hand returning to stroke Satoru's cock, amplifying the pleasure between them. 

Satoru arched his back with a hoarse moan, the pleasure spreading like liquid fire through his entire body as Suguru's hand stroked his cock with a firm rhythm, synchronized with the deep thrusts that filled him. 

"Yes… fuck, I love this," he whispered, his blue eyes half-closed, fixed on Suguru's face — that sly smile, the parted lips, the sweat shining on his forehead. The nickname "love" had come out so naturally from Suguru's mouth that it was as if it had always been there, between them, waiting to be said. And that, more than any touch, made Satoru's chest tighten with something beyond pure desire. 

Suguru leaned forward, capturing his lips in a sloppy and urgent kiss, his tongue invading Satoru's mouth as he picked up the pace, his thighs trembling with the effort of holding himself back. Each thrust was precise, hitting exactly the spot that made stars explode behind Satoru's eyelids — one, two, three pushes that left him breathless, his body twisting involuntarily around Suguru's cock, squeezing him in a way that drew guttural moans from him. 

"You're so tight… so warm," Suguru murmured against his mouth, his voice broken, his teeth grazing Satoru's lower lip before nibbling lightly. "I could fuck you all day and it still wouldn't be enough." 

The dirty words, said in that low, velvety voice, sent a shock straight to Satoru's cock, which pulsed in Suguru's hand, pre-cum dripping between his fingers. Satoru dug his nails into Suguru's back, marking the skin with red lines.

"Harder… Suguru, please," Satoru begged, his voice broken, his legs squeezing his waist tighter as if he wanted to fuse them together forever. The friction between their abdomens was torturous, Satoru's cock brushing against Suguru's sweat-damp skin, amplifying everything until he felt he was going to explode at any second. 

Suguru obeyed, slightly changing the angle to hit even deeper, the thrusts now brutal and possessive, the sound of skin against skin echoing through the room along with their muffled moans. His hand on Satoru's cock sped up, his thumb circling the sensitive head with each upstroke, spreading the leaking liquid. 

"Come for me, love," he purred in Satoru's ear, biting the lobe of his ear as he buried himself completely, brushing his prostate without mercy. "I want to feel you tightening around me when I fill you up." 

That was the trigger. Satoru shouted Suguru's name, his body convulsing as the orgasm hit him like an overwhelming wave — hot jets of semen splashing between them, dirtying Suguru's hand and his abdomen, the internal muscles contracting rhythmically around Suguru's cock, milking him with an intensity that took him along. Suguru buried his face in Satoru's neck, moaning loudly and prolonged as he came inside him, the heat spreading in hot, deep pulses, filling him until Satoru felt every drop. 

"Satoru… fuck, you're… perfect," he panted, his body trembling, the thrusts becoming slow and lazy as he rode out the last waves of pleasure. Satoru closed his eyes, his body completely relaxing for the first time in days, the sound of Suguru's breathing like an anchor. For the first time, he didn't feel alone in the chaos of the world — and that was enough to make him want to stay forever. 

They collapsed together, sweaty and panting, their bodies entwined as if they didn't want to let go ever again. Suguru ran his fingers through Satoru's hair, kissing his temple with a softness that contrasted with the intensity of minutes before. "Stay," he murmured, as if it were a promise. 

Satoru smiled against his chest, the exhaustion finally winning out, but now mixed with a peace he hadn't known he needed so much. "I'm not going anywhere."