Chapter Text
He thought about you every day after you left. Well, technically you didn’t leave, you just stopped responding.
He was okay with that. Fine, really.
He could lie to himself all he wanted and tell himself that he didn’t give a damn that you stopped calling, or that your address had changed and he hasn’t seen you in a year.
He could lie and say he didn’t think of you every day.
He could lie and say that he didn’t use every resource he had to try and find you.
Nothing worked.
You had gone radio silent after that day, that day cold in the winter where there was blood at his shoes and it was blood of your best friend’s and it was blood that separated you and it was blood that brought you together and—
”Satoru.”
He was snapped out of his own thoughts harshly.
”Yeah? What is it?”
”The cursed object. Get rid of it. We don’t care how, just please, get rid of it.” The faces of the higher ups looked down on him from where he was standing.
He clicked his tongue.
”Yeah, whatever. Sure.”
He shut his car door.
He drove.
He didn’t know where he was going, really. He didn’t much at all lately.
But before he realized it he was driving down a particular path his body seemed to have memorized over the course of driving there for a decade.
He passed the point where the roads stopped having names and the houses stopped looking the same. Drove around to that empty parking lot behind the deserted convenience store that you had managed to convince him was haunted when you were both sixteen.
He let go of the steering wheel.
Looked down at the “highly dangerous” cursed object sitting in his lap.
He scoffed.
“One Wish Willow? Huh.” He shook his head.
He vaguely remembered this from some point in his childhood, remembering it being a collectible toy.
He had thought it was stupid.
His thoughts hadn’t changed since then.
”This is supposed to be cursed?” He said to himself, turning the box over in his hands.
His six eyes filtered over it, cataloguing and categorizing, and coming up with precisely nothing useful. No cursed energy signature he could discern. No threat visible.
Just a dumb box with a dumber toy inside.
He sighed and opened the box.
The sound of a 8-bit jingle cut through the silence of the car’s air.
“…the fuck?” He murmured to himself.
Inside, as he expected, was nothing remarkable.
A small hollow toy lined with what looked like dried willow fibers, dark and fine as hair.
He looked at it for a long moment.
Then thought about you.
Thought about the way you giggled at his jokes when everyone else groaned and rolled their eyes.
Thought about the way you were the only one who really ever looked at him and saw a person instead of a weapon or a threat.
Thought about the look in your eyes when Riko died.
Thought about you leaving with Suguru.
Thought about how you stopped calling when he killed him.
He held it in his hands.
Sighed.
”Fuck it,”
”I wish (name) came back and never left me again.”
snap.
Silence.
“This was stupid,” he murmured to himself, tossing the broken toy and discarded box into the backseat like it was nothing.
As he expected, it was a waste of time.
Everything was a waste of time with him.
He had twelve years to tell you how he felt, and in those twelve years he wasted every damn second.
you’ll have time to tell her, they said.
It was all about tim—
tap tap.
He looked up. Caught your eyes.
Your hand raised. You made a small, gentle motion— roll the window down—like you were trying not to startle him. A sweet little smile plastered on your face.
His brain went blank for a second and he blinked. Was he really seeing this in front of him?
Was it really you?
He rolled down the window.
The smell of rain entered the car.
And with the smell of rain came the smell of you and the look of you and it sounded like you and it was you—it was really you! He wasn’t dreaming like he had thought he was as of five seconds ago. You were living and breathing and you were here for him, no one else but him.
”Satoru.” You said his name. He shuddered. He hadn’t heard his name leave your lips in a year.
He’d heard it in many ways. He’d heard it in a soft, sleepy tone when you wanted him to stay. He’d heard it in a clipped tone when you were pissed at him. He’d heard it when your breath was heavy, and your nails were digging into his back while you asked him to give it to you faster, harder, and—
“I was just…in the area. I was thinking about you.” You said softly, fingers thrumming on the side of the car.
”This was our spot, remember? We used to come here when we really missed each other.” You told him, cocking your head to the side in that girlish way you’d done since you were teenagers.
It was then he realized that he hadn’t said anything because he’d been gaping at you like a fish like an idiot for the past thirty seconds.
”I—I didn’t…—Kaya? How did you—you’ve been gone for a year—“
”I know, I know. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I was avoiding you, I just…didn’t know if I could see you after..” You paused, brows knitting, like trying to remember what you had come into the room for in the first place.
”After…Suguru?” He tried, swallowing, voice low as he looked up at you, unable to expect what you’d say. If you’d hate him.
Some part of him hoped you did.
”…Suguru?” You asked, tilting your head to the side as if you didn’t remember.
What?
”What?” He asked, breath catching.
You blinked, as if realizing you had said something that didn’t make as much sense aloud as it had sounded in your head.
A switch flipped in your face.
”Yes, after Suguru!” You had chimed, as if it was something as trivial as forgetting your keys.
”I’m so sorry,” you shook your head, gaze centered on him.
“I’ve just missed you. So, so, so, so, so, so much. Can I please come inside?” You asked innocently, peering inside the car and finding that nothing much had changed since you’d last been in it.
Satoru stammered, looking around for the unlock button before his brain caught up.
”Yeah—sure, o-of course.” The soft click of the passenger’s seat unlocking was what caused the next smile to come to your face.
You opened the door and got in, sliding into the passanger’s seat like you never left and it was just a Tuesday.
Why did you leave?
No, he knew leave wasn’t the right word.
He didn’t own you, you could do what you wanted. Leaving made it seem like there were attachments. The two of you never said what you were.
He was lying to himself and he knew it.
” ‘toru.”
He snapped out of it.
You hadn’t called him that in years.
”Will you take me home with you?”