Chapter Text
Suguru stood in the lecture hall, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the results board. His stomach twisted as he scanned the top rankings.
“Ahh better luck next time Sugu! Only two marks beneath me this time!”
Suguru didn’t even need to see his fifteenth second place, because he was already there to welcome it.
Gojo Satoru.
The man standing beside him, gawking at his name at the top of the results board. His voice was meant to sound friendly, but no, kindness was far from second nature to Gojo Satoru. He spoke, dragging out Suguru's name with a half smile tugging at his lips. A smug grin to accompany is perfect score, effortless as always. His backpack was slung carelessly over one shoulder, the other holding his phone and snapping a photo of the ranking, to humiliate Suguru more, no doubt.
Gojo Satoru wasn’t merely an excellent student; he was infuriatingly good at everything. Academics came to him as easily as breathing, but it didn’t stop there.
He excelled in sports with the same careless confidence, moving with a natural athleticism that made even practiced effort look clumsy by comparison. He spoke just as easily, charming when he wanted to be, sharp when it suited him, able to command attention without ever asking for it.
And, to Suguru’s quiet disgust, he was attractive too. Effortlessly so. The kind of good-looking that didn’t require maintenance or self-awareness, that drew eyes without him ever seeming to notice. It was unfair in a way that went beyond competition.
Everything about Gojo Satoru felt like a direct insult to Suguru’s hard work.
Every sleepless night, every skipped meal, every ounce of discipline Suguru poured into improving himself seemed diminished in Gojo’s presence. Satoru succeeded without strain, without sacrifice, grinning, while Suguru burned himself out just to stand one step behind him.
Suguru felt his teeth grit.
Always second.
Nobody hated Gojo Satoru, the insufferable asshole, more than Suguru.
And now he was here, right beside Suguru, grinning like he owned the entire world.
“Well done to you too, Gojo.”
“I told you..call me Satoru. Come on, Sugu.”
“Geto to you.”
Satoru groaned, exaggeratedly, and stepped directly in front of him, blocking his path. Suguru closed his eyes, jaw tightening. He could barely stand the sight of that face, and the sound of that voice grated on him even more.
“Sugu you’re so mean! Cmon- it's not my fault you came second again..I told you we could study together.” Satoru leaned in closer, a smug grin never leaving his face. “I can help you beat me!”
Suguru opened one eye, unimpressed. “Do you even know how to be humble?”
“`I’m being nice though! I offered help, free of charge.. I don’t do that for everyone you know.” Satoru tilted his head, smiling.
“I don’t want help from you. If you couldn’t tell already from the hundred times I’ve turned you down already.” Suguru snorted.
“Oh come on,” Satoru’s voice dropped, deliberately slow. Like he’d expected Suguru to say that. “It’s starting to look like you secretly enjoy this little rivalry we have going on..huh Sugu?”
Suguru's stomach tightened, he looked away now. “I don’t like you, and we don’t have a rivalry.”
“Sure..” Satoru said, voice low, playful, and most of all dangerous. “You hate me so much it's almost obsessive..don’t think I haven’t noticed Sugu.”
Suguru's hand twitched at his side.
This guy…is a prick.
A self centered, eccentric prick.
“Hah. Are you for real?” Suguru let out a short, tight laugh, eyes narrowing at Satoru. “I’ve got work to do. I’d appreciate it if you leave me alone.”
The thing that set Satoru apart in their rivalry was that he loved it. He thrived on it. His competitiveness was loud, constant, relentless, and extremely sharp. He delighted in pushing Suguru’s buttons; watching his body tighten, his eyes narrow, the way his breath would hitch whenever he lost.
What had started as a simple game, a way to make boring classes more entertaining, had grown into something else entirely. Winning didn’t matter to Satoru anymore. What he craved was the reaction, Suguru’s frustration, his restraint, the way he couldn’t quite hide how much Satoru got under his skin.
Over time, the pattern became routine. Predictable. Suguru would stay late in the library, only to find Satoru seated across from him, there by coincidence, of course. Suguru would bury himself in his books, jaw tight, while Satoru lounged back in his chair, scrolling lazily through his phone, glancing up just to smile at him anyway. And when exam season rolled around and passed, the results would be the same as always. Satoru at the top, effortless and untouchable, while Suguru simmered beneath him, furious. Just how Satoru liked it.
Slowly but surely, it bled into everything. Martial arts, basketball, art competitions, any hobby Suguru touched, Satoru followed, always ahead, always infuriating. Regardless, Suguru never stopped, never gave in. But the anger that built inside him grew sharper, hotter, bubbling toward something dangerous.
However recently, Satoru realised that winning wasn’t enough anymore. Suguru's exasperation was once enough to get him going, to give him the satisfaction he yearned for, but now, he wanted more. No, he needed more. He wanted to see Suguru break, to see him falter. He wanted to see Suguru beg for something only Satoru could grant.
So he tried stopping. He gave Suguru unexpected, unsettling space. Let him breathe. Let him think it was over, that he didn’t need this competition.
Satoru was convinced that would be enough to reignite the initial spark in their relationship. He’d return with double the force, reinforcing Suguru’s need for him.
But one evening, just a few days into him letting Suguru be free of his annoyance, Satoru saw something he wasn’t meant to see. Something that completely changed this into something… messy.
It made Satoru realise.
He wasn’t the only one craving this.
He wasn’t the only one who wanted… more.
Suguru wanted it too.
He just didn’t know it yet.
That was how this predicament started.