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softpunksgojo satoru/getou suguru // ~2k
> 64 sensory prompts: the taste of vodka at the back of your throat; drunk, accidental marriage
There was no piece of paper, but there was a ring, and to Suguru, it made all the difference. Satoru was in the bathroom, throwing up into the toilet and stinking up the room with last night’s dinner. Suguru wasn’t hungover, but he still tasted the remnants of the vodka when he licked the roof of his mouth, and he could vividly recall the alcohol burning his throat a few hours ago.
He scowled. The ring sitting on his palm while he sat on the edge of the bed only made him scowl harder.
It wasn't a fancy ring; it was made of wood and there were no intricate designs engraved. It was probably as heavy as Satoru's high school tests that he used to crumple into paper balls. During those moments, Suguru would take him to the candy shop and Satoru would buy ring pops.
Suguru looked at the ring in his hands right now and thought that it was the equivalent to buying him a cheap piece of plastic and candy.
"Suguru?" Satoru said, finally out of the bathroom.
"You're a cheapskate, you know that?" Suguru’s eyes were still on the jewelry. "I deserve better than this."
"It’s not my fault you were too wasted to complain," Satoru huffed, walking over to him. "You hungover?"
"No."
"Boo." Satoru flopped down on the bed. There was only one because Satoru got a room with only one bed. If Suguru had been sober when it all happened, he would've told Satoru to get two. Drunk or not, he wasn't going to share a bed with Satoru, of all people. They wouldn't fit anyway.
Ultimately, it didn't matter. Satoru hogged the bed and left Suguru to sleep on the floor with his back leaning on the mattress. When Suguru woke up, Satoru’s foot dangled right beside his face; in retaliation, Suguru grabbed Satoru by the ankle and yanked down hard enough to make him fall off the bed.
Right after, Suguru noticed the ring, innocently cradled in his other hand because he held onto it while he’d been asleep. He remembered, right then and there, that he and Satoru had gotten married.
"This is the worst, actually," Suguru said.
"What, the fact that we got hitched?" A hand tugged at his hair, which was down because he couldn’t find his hair tie. He glanced up to see Satoru's face hovering above his. He was pouting. "I'm hurt, Suguru. I'll have you know there are many benefits to marrying me."
"Is this even a legit marriage?" asked Suguru. Memories of the night before came to Suguru in pieces. They just finished wrapping up a mission, one they'd done together for the first time in a while, and they decided to take a detour instead of immediately heading back to Jujutsu High.
There was this small area just barely past downtown of the city they were in that specialized in knock-offs, dedicated to replicating all those mainstream and famous things from Western countries. Over dinner, Satoru and Suguru ate large, greasy burgers and the oil was so thick that they couldn't wash it off. They ordered hard liquor to quench their thirst and "celebrate", according to Satoru, even if lately, Suguru hadn't felt like there was anything worth being joyous for.
What happened after was a blur, but maybe they hopped from shop to shop along the street they walked, Suguru predictably drunk and Satoru startlingly sober. A conversation came up, one that a part of Suguru nagged at him to remember because it felt important. Then they slipped inside a shop that was supposed to embody "Las Vegas stereotypes"—Suguru didn't know what that meant, until now—and then they got married, short ceremony and wedding rings and all.
"Of course not." Satoru snorted. "That's why there's no certificate. ‘Sides, that's not legal here. And I'd never marry you.”
Suguru rolled his eyes. "Oh, but me marrying you is something else entirely?"
"If you married me, you'd get my fortune, my name, and my amazing breakfast bangers to wake up to every morning."
"Because those are the three things I absolutely want in life."
"But if I married you,” Satoru continued. “All I'd get in return is long hair in my face whenever I wake up, whatever's been making you grumpy for the past few months, and two kids I never asked for."
"You didn't even share the bed with me," Suguru pointed out.
"Serves you right for forcing me to make all the big decisions myself," Satoru retorted, though Suguru didn't force him into anything. Suguru didn't even know who asked who, how it all came down to this; why they didn't return to the college immediately, why they got drunk, why they got married, why were they still here, talking like nothing was out of the ordinary even if Suguru felt like so much has changed between them. Suguru's hair had grown longer, Satoru could no longer sport dark circles under his eyes. They both had sharper cheekbones, stiffer movements from the exhaustion of never-ending missions, and they didn't do much talking outside of classes nowadays. This was a first—last night and then today. "Then again, the kids aren't so bad."
Yaga was pissed when Suguru returned back to Jujutsu High with two little girls in his arms, but at least he hadn't killed anyone. His teacher had smacked him on the head for considering murder in the first place, but beneath the stern gaze was relief in his eyes, for neither following the mission nor doing the complete opposite of it. Those double meanings and contradicting thoughts made Suguru reminiscent of their mission with Amanai.
The girls were under Yaga’s care now, but Suguru visited them as often as he could. Sometimes, he thought about taking them with him and leaving. He didn't know where he'd go except far, far away, where they couldn't be hurt by curses and monkeys, where they wouldn't be forced to grow up into shamans sworn to protect the very people that ruined their lives in the first place.
"Good thing this marriage thing's a sham,” Suguru said. “The last thing we need is something to tie us down."
Despite his words, he slipped his finger into the ring. It was slightly loose, but it would only fall off if he shook hand, and he knew the fit was like that because he'd been losing weight. He could feel Satoru's gaze on him as he wore it. Satoru's own ring was nowhere in sight, but Suguru only spared a second-long thought as to where it could possibly be.
"I mean, those girls are already doing it for you," Satoru said. "Which I don't get, I don't get kids, but maybe—it's not so much of a bad thing. You look less shitty."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"'M saying," And Satoru paused, like he was trying to gather the right words to say. It was odd, because Satoru never really had to think twice about what he'd say because he was always confident they'd come out right the first try. "I think you're miserable, but you won't say why, and I hate guessing games, so fuck you, I'm not gonna waste my time asking. But when you came back with those kids, you looked less miserable. Sometimes I think you're still going to bolt though, and I don't want that, 'cause I'm not ready to be the strongest alone yet." Suguru wasn’t surprised by how well Satoru could read him. It didn't matter what he was tempted to do though, because in the end, he didn't do it. He was still here, after all, having this drawn out conversation with Satoru about—
"Please don't tell me you actually want us to get married," Suguru deadpanned.
"No—no, that's not what I'm saying," Satoru said indignantly, but his nose was scrunched up in that subtle way that revealed his embarrassment, and that made Suguru smirk. Satoru scowled, but he continued. "It's not about the marriage, okay, marriage sucks because it’s about capitalist propaganda—"
"—here we go again—"
"But that's not my point! The point here is the—the getting tied down thing. You've been kinda shitty lately, and I've been kinda busy, so I felt like we were drifting. Didn't like it, but then you went on that mission, came back, and then you were back on the ground instead of floating somewhere I couldn't reach, and I wanted that too, so: here we are. Tied down. Symbolically. I've never been to America, but I'd like to think that's why people love getting married in that Vegas state. Legality is tedious and it's the thought that counts. Isn't that the whole American manifesto? Never following the law unless it suits them?"
Thought? What thought? Suguru wanted to ask, because Satoru liked to ramble so much that it felt like nonsense half the time when he could say things clearly in a sentence or two. Satoru didn't know what was going on with Suguru, and he didn't like it, so he wanted to do something about it. Suguru didn't know what was going on with himself either, but he made peace with never knowing because some things just couldn't be changed. Only Satoru could think otherwise.
"Doing things when it's self-serving sounds like something you would do, more than anything," Suguru commented. But like Satoru said, that wasn't the point. Maybe Suguru was the same; he'd rather talk about everything else but what was important, something that could easily be confessed in a sentence or two. They were both cowards, and they were both drifting, but for a time, they'd been brave and they'd been the strongest and it grounded them.
"Fucking hell, Satoru." Suguru sighed. He remembered the vodka in his throat and wondered if he could grasp onto the memory of anything against his lips besides the rim of a bottle, a kiss that might have never happened. Probably not. Satoru wasn’t that much of a coward. "If you don't want me to leave, just tell me. No need to pull a scam marriage scheme to do it."
"You give me too much credit," Satoru said, making a dramatic gesture where he placed his hand above his chest, mockingly touched. Suguru finally got a glimpse of the ring. Wooden and plain. A snug fit. It still should’ve been a ring pop; it would have been more worth it. “But I mean it, you know.”
(No, I don’t, Suguru almost said, but then he remembered what they spoke about the night before.
“It’s like I don’t know you these days,” Satoru was saying, “But I’m not gonna ask if you don’t wanna tell. Just tell me if you’ll go, okay?”
Suguru had asked why. All Satoru answered was, “Because I’ll try to make you stay.”)
“This is such a bullshit solution to such a bullshit problem,” Suguru told Satoru instead.
“Okay, but did it work?”
There was a light in Satoru’s eyes, like he wanted to stretch his lips into an infectious grin and was just waiting for the right opportunity to do it. When it really counted, he didn’t want to give away his cards too easily. Suguru hadn’t seen him look like that in a while, even yesterday night.
The thing was, Satoru didn’t need to pull all this in a shitty attempt to convince him that he still cared, to get Suguru to “stay”. Because even if Suguru did leave, he’d take Satoru with him too. They didn’t need official-sounding labels or a mock-formal process to tie them together.
“If you could make me a ‘banger breakfast’,” Suguru relented. “Then maybe.”
Finally, Satoru smiled. The ring on Suguru’s hand suddenly had weight to it. Someday, it would fit just right.
> 64 sensory prompts: the taste of vodka at the back of your throat; drunk, accidental marriage
There was no piece of paper, but there was a ring, and to Suguru, it made all the difference. Satoru was in the bathroom, throwing up into the toilet and stinking up the room with last night’s dinner. Suguru wasn’t hungover, but he still tasted the remnants of the vodka when he licked the roof of his mouth, and he could vividly recall the alcohol burning his throat a few hours ago.
He scowled. The ring sitting on his palm while he sat on the edge of the bed only made him scowl harder.
It wasn't a fancy ring; it was made of wood and there were no intricate designs engraved. It was probably as heavy as Satoru's high school tests that he used to crumple into paper balls. During those moments, Suguru would take him to the candy shop and Satoru would buy ring pops.
Suguru looked at the ring in his hands right now and thought that it was the equivalent to buying him a cheap piece of plastic and candy.
"Suguru?" Satoru said, finally out of the bathroom.
"You're a cheapskate, you know that?" Suguru’s eyes were still on the jewelry. "I deserve better than this."
"It’s not my fault you were too wasted to complain," Satoru huffed, walking over to him. "You hungover?"
"No."
"Boo." Satoru flopped down on the bed. There was only one because Satoru got a room with only one bed. If Suguru had been sober when it all happened, he would've told Satoru to get two. Drunk or not, he wasn't going to share a bed with Satoru, of all people. They wouldn't fit anyway.
Ultimately, it didn't matter. Satoru hogged the bed and left Suguru to sleep on the floor with his back leaning on the mattress. When Suguru woke up, Satoru’s foot dangled right beside his face; in retaliation, Suguru grabbed Satoru by the ankle and yanked down hard enough to make him fall off the bed.
Right after, Suguru noticed the ring, innocently cradled in his other hand because he held onto it while he’d been asleep. He remembered, right then and there, that he and Satoru had gotten married.
"This is the worst, actually," Suguru said.
"What, the fact that we got hitched?" A hand tugged at his hair, which was down because he couldn’t find his hair tie. He glanced up to see Satoru's face hovering above his. He was pouting. "I'm hurt, Suguru. I'll have you know there are many benefits to marrying me."
"Is this even a legit marriage?" asked Suguru. Memories of the night before came to Suguru in pieces. They just finished wrapping up a mission, one they'd done together for the first time in a while, and they decided to take a detour instead of immediately heading back to Jujutsu High.
There was this small area just barely past downtown of the city they were in that specialized in knock-offs, dedicated to replicating all those mainstream and famous things from Western countries. Over dinner, Satoru and Suguru ate large, greasy burgers and the oil was so thick that they couldn't wash it off. They ordered hard liquor to quench their thirst and "celebrate", according to Satoru, even if lately, Suguru hadn't felt like there was anything worth being joyous for.
What happened after was a blur, but maybe they hopped from shop to shop along the street they walked, Suguru predictably drunk and Satoru startlingly sober. A conversation came up, one that a part of Suguru nagged at him to remember because it felt important. Then they slipped inside a shop that was supposed to embody "Las Vegas stereotypes"—Suguru didn't know what that meant, until now—and then they got married, short ceremony and wedding rings and all.
"Of course not." Satoru snorted. "That's why there's no certificate. ‘Sides, that's not legal here. And I'd never marry you.”
Suguru rolled his eyes. "Oh, but me marrying you is something else entirely?"
"If you married me, you'd get my fortune, my name, and my amazing breakfast bangers to wake up to every morning."
"Because those are the three things I absolutely want in life."
"But if I married you,” Satoru continued. “All I'd get in return is long hair in my face whenever I wake up, whatever's been making you grumpy for the past few months, and two kids I never asked for."
"You didn't even share the bed with me," Suguru pointed out.
"Serves you right for forcing me to make all the big decisions myself," Satoru retorted, though Suguru didn't force him into anything. Suguru didn't even know who asked who, how it all came down to this; why they didn't return to the college immediately, why they got drunk, why they got married, why were they still here, talking like nothing was out of the ordinary even if Suguru felt like so much has changed between them. Suguru's hair had grown longer, Satoru could no longer sport dark circles under his eyes. They both had sharper cheekbones, stiffer movements from the exhaustion of never-ending missions, and they didn't do much talking outside of classes nowadays. This was a first—last night and then today. "Then again, the kids aren't so bad."
Yaga was pissed when Suguru returned back to Jujutsu High with two little girls in his arms, but at least he hadn't killed anyone. His teacher had smacked him on the head for considering murder in the first place, but beneath the stern gaze was relief in his eyes, for neither following the mission nor doing the complete opposite of it. Those double meanings and contradicting thoughts made Suguru reminiscent of their mission with Amanai.
The girls were under Yaga’s care now, but Suguru visited them as often as he could. Sometimes, he thought about taking them with him and leaving. He didn't know where he'd go except far, far away, where they couldn't be hurt by curses and monkeys, where they wouldn't be forced to grow up into shamans sworn to protect the very people that ruined their lives in the first place.
"Good thing this marriage thing's a sham,” Suguru said. “The last thing we need is something to tie us down."
Despite his words, he slipped his finger into the ring. It was slightly loose, but it would only fall off if he shook hand, and he knew the fit was like that because he'd been losing weight. He could feel Satoru's gaze on him as he wore it. Satoru's own ring was nowhere in sight, but Suguru only spared a second-long thought as to where it could possibly be.
"I mean, those girls are already doing it for you," Satoru said. "Which I don't get, I don't get kids, but maybe—it's not so much of a bad thing. You look less shitty."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"'M saying," And Satoru paused, like he was trying to gather the right words to say. It was odd, because Satoru never really had to think twice about what he'd say because he was always confident they'd come out right the first try. "I think you're miserable, but you won't say why, and I hate guessing games, so fuck you, I'm not gonna waste my time asking. But when you came back with those kids, you looked less miserable. Sometimes I think you're still going to bolt though, and I don't want that, 'cause I'm not ready to be the strongest alone yet." Suguru wasn’t surprised by how well Satoru could read him. It didn't matter what he was tempted to do though, because in the end, he didn't do it. He was still here, after all, having this drawn out conversation with Satoru about—
"Please don't tell me you actually want us to get married," Suguru deadpanned.
"No—no, that's not what I'm saying," Satoru said indignantly, but his nose was scrunched up in that subtle way that revealed his embarrassment, and that made Suguru smirk. Satoru scowled, but he continued. "It's not about the marriage, okay, marriage sucks because it’s about capitalist propaganda—"
"—here we go again—"
"But that's not my point! The point here is the—the getting tied down thing. You've been kinda shitty lately, and I've been kinda busy, so I felt like we were drifting. Didn't like it, but then you went on that mission, came back, and then you were back on the ground instead of floating somewhere I couldn't reach, and I wanted that too, so: here we are. Tied down. Symbolically. I've never been to America, but I'd like to think that's why people love getting married in that Vegas state. Legality is tedious and it's the thought that counts. Isn't that the whole American manifesto? Never following the law unless it suits them?"
Thought? What thought? Suguru wanted to ask, because Satoru liked to ramble so much that it felt like nonsense half the time when he could say things clearly in a sentence or two. Satoru didn't know what was going on with Suguru, and he didn't like it, so he wanted to do something about it. Suguru didn't know what was going on with himself either, but he made peace with never knowing because some things just couldn't be changed. Only Satoru could think otherwise.
"Doing things when it's self-serving sounds like something you would do, more than anything," Suguru commented. But like Satoru said, that wasn't the point. Maybe Suguru was the same; he'd rather talk about everything else but what was important, something that could easily be confessed in a sentence or two. They were both cowards, and they were both drifting, but for a time, they'd been brave and they'd been the strongest and it grounded them.
"Fucking hell, Satoru." Suguru sighed. He remembered the vodka in his throat and wondered if he could grasp onto the memory of anything against his lips besides the rim of a bottle, a kiss that might have never happened. Probably not. Satoru wasn’t that much of a coward. "If you don't want me to leave, just tell me. No need to pull a scam marriage scheme to do it."
"You give me too much credit," Satoru said, making a dramatic gesture where he placed his hand above his chest, mockingly touched. Suguru finally got a glimpse of the ring. Wooden and plain. A snug fit. It still should’ve been a ring pop; it would have been more worth it. “But I mean it, you know.”
(No, I don’t, Suguru almost said, but then he remembered what they spoke about the night before.
“It’s like I don’t know you these days,” Satoru was saying, “But I’m not gonna ask if you don’t wanna tell. Just tell me if you’ll go, okay?”
Suguru had asked why. All Satoru answered was, “Because I’ll try to make you stay.”)
“This is such a bullshit solution to such a bullshit problem,” Suguru told Satoru instead.
“Okay, but did it work?”
There was a light in Satoru’s eyes, like he wanted to stretch his lips into an infectious grin and was just waiting for the right opportunity to do it. When it really counted, he didn’t want to give away his cards too easily. Suguru hadn’t seen him look like that in a while, even yesterday night.
The thing was, Satoru didn’t need to pull all this in a shitty attempt to convince him that he still cared, to get Suguru to “stay”. Because even if Suguru did leave, he’d take Satoru with him too. They didn’t need official-sounding labels or a mock-formal process to tie them together.
“If you could make me a ‘banger breakfast’,” Suguru relented. “Then maybe.”
Finally, Satoru smiled. The ring on Suguru’s hand suddenly had weight to it. Someday, it would fit just right.