Chapter Text
CURRENTLY PLAYING
Imposter Syndrome
Sidney Gish
─────•────── 𖦤
↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺
Satoru is tired. He’s always tired.
The pit of anxiety is growing in his stomach, along with the tiredness in his head.
He’s so tired.
“Hey.”
Satoru thinks that he’ll never be well rested.
He’ll probably have to die to sleep in peace.
“Hey!”
He feels like vomiting.
Or does he?
There’s nothing to puke out anyways, his stomach as empty as his energy levels.
“Satoru!!!”
Satoru snaps up, his head traveling to his best friend. Suguru. His hair is down today. He’s wearing a hoodie that has a picture of two koi fish on the back. Huh. That’s interesting. The two koi might represent something. Maybe a game reference? Satoru tries racking his head for what it could be. He comes up with nothing.
“Yeah? What’s up?” Satoru mumbles. He forces a tired smile, wrinkled and fading at the edges already. Suguru’s brows furrow closer together.
Uh-oh.
That face isn’t good. It’s the face that Suguru makes before making him eat, shower, or worseー checking his wrists.
Satoru tries harder. He presses the smile wider, turning it into one of his usual cocky smirks.
His eyes stay dead.
The light blue is darkened, a faded navy blue shade.
Suguru puts his phone down on the bed, turning and facing Satoru.
“Sleeves. Up.” Suguru commands, his brows still pressed together, voice authoritative and unyielding.
Satoru is about to open his mouth, to say some stupid comment, chuckle, and play it off when Suguru interrupts voice, sharp and commanding.
“Satoru. You didn’t eat this morning, you’ve been wearing the same oversized sweatshirt for two weeks, you began texting me at three in the morning yesterday and never even sent a damned message. Lift up your sleeves.”
Satoru flinched. It was a myriad evidence, an accusation, thrown at his face to make him surrender. It worked.
Satoru slid his sweatshirt sleeve up.
There were slits after slits, some red, some scabbed all perfectly aligned in a disgustingly perfect way.
Perfect.
If Satoru couldn’t be perfect at being the strongest, couldn’t be a perfect friend, have a perfect body, be a perfect student?
Then he could at the very least cut himself perfectly.
Suguru's eyes closed momentarily. He inhaled and exhaled twice, as if fighting something he wanted to say back.
Suguru opened his eyes, taking a hold of both of Satoru’s arms, gripping his forearm, not tightly, but tight enough to prevent escape.
Satoru was too tired to keep Infinity up, dropping it as soon as he reached for his arms. Suguru led him out of his bedroom, into the hallway, and to the bathroom.
“Take your clothes off.” Suguru said simply. The harshness was still there. Softened though, maybe pity?
Satoru hated when people pitied him.
Satoru reached up, pulling his sweatshirt off. He wore nothing beneath. He slipped his thumbs into the waistband of his sweatpants, slowly slinking them down and taking them off. Satoru hesitated when he was left standing with just his boxers.
Suguru gave him a glance, like Well?
Satoru slipped out of his boxers as well. Suguru moved past him, turning on the bathtub. Satoru felt exposed.
His collarbone was prominent, one thing that he actually liked about his body. It could be passed off as a ‘pretty boy’ thing.
His abs were still there. Four sculpted ones. The top two were misshapen by malnourishment. Satoru didn’t know that though. He thought they were misshapen because he had too much weight on him, that too much weight was in his abs. So he purged. And tried avoiding food.
“Satoru. Tub. In.” Suguru’s voice rang out, snapping him out of his trance of self deprecating thoughts. Satoru moved towards the tub, slowly settling in.
It was warm.
But cold.
It wouldn't warm his insides or the pit of anxiety and exhaustion in him.
Suguru stood, leaving him momentarily.
Satoru whimpered.
A sad, melancholy sound falling on deaf ears.
Suguru returned with a plate of brownies. Specifically weed brownies. Satoru perks up, sitting up in the tub, eyes following Suguru's movements.
Suguru shoots him a look that says not yet. Satoru whimpers, but drops his face looking away. Suguru sets the brownies down on the sink counter. He crouched next to the tub where Satoru sat inside.
Satoru heard the uncapping of a bottle, probably shampoo. He felt Suguru’s warm hands run through his hair, lathering soap in with gentle hands. Satoru let out a sigh he didn’t know he was holding.
Suguru continued the same motion, back and forth, back and forth, massaging the soap into his snow white hair.
Satoru closed his eyes, and his senses softened. His six eyes settled into a soft hum instead of the usual overwhelming buzzing that rang in his head.
After a couple of minutes, Suguru nudged his head. “Satoru. I have to rinse your hair.” Satoru whined, but begrudgingly sat up. Suguru tilted his head back, and poured water over his white hair.
“Y’know you really got to stop doing this to yourself.” Suguru murmured as he began slathering the conditioner over his head. “It’s beginning to get repetitive.”
Satoru tenses at his words. Suguru’s right and he knows it. It’s the same repetitive cycle, Satoru will be fine for a while, relapse in the middle of the night, hide it, and then Suguru will somethingー a bloody blade, vomit in his toilet, his clothes stained with blood. Sometimes if he’s lucky, Suguru won’t see him in the act or find evidence.
And instead his best friend will just know if something’s wrong. Sometimes he’s grateful for it. But it’s embarrassing. The strongest acting weak.
“Hey.” Suguru pinches his cheek. Satoru blinks, coming back to sensation.
“Don’t float off as soon as I try talking to you.” Suguru scolds. Satoru sighs. It's a heavy, tired sound. He rubs the spot where Suguru pinched him.
“I told you to tell me if you feel like you’re going to relapse. Text me, call meー fuck, you could even leave a note if you’re too anxious to tell me. It hurts when you hide stuff like this y’know?” Suguru’s voice cracks at the last part. Satoru feels his hands tighten in his hair before letting go and resuming the massaging motion.
It’s a grounding sensation, one stopping him from floating away in a topic he especially does not enjoy discussing.
Satoru has to remind himself to respond.
“I’m sorry.” Are the first words that blurt out of his mouth. “I- I tried texting you when I realized I was gonna relapse. I tried.” Satoru can’t see Suguru’s face from this angle. Can’t tell if his best friend is pissed at, or worseー if he’s feeling guilty.
“Please. We can’t lose another sorcerer.” Suguru’s voice comes out half broken, tired, and exhausted. It reminds Satoru of himself. Is this how he sounds all the time?
Tired, broken, exhausted, and empty?
What if he’s making Suguru feel like this? Making him feel guilty for something that’s his fault.
The strongest makes sure the weak don’t have to flinch, don’t have to waver or cower.
You’ve failed again.
“And… I’m going to have to report this to Gojo Hiroshi…” Suguru said, voice lower. He watched Satoru’s reaction.
Satoru snapped out his trance at Suguru’s words, eyes widening. “Suguruー no he doesn’t evenー he doesn’t even need to knowー haven’tー”
Suguru cuts him off, pouring water over his head and effectively shutting him up. Satoru lets out a soft yelp at the sudden sensation.
“I’m telling him because Shoko isn’t going to do anything” His voice is sharp. “And don’t give me that look. You know it’s true. The doctor can actuallyー” He inhales as if the words hurt him. “Can actually get you fucking help Satoru.”
Satoru looks down. The water is slightly translucent. The bubbles are floating concealing most but not all of his shape. He can make out the red from his arms. It’s blurred, lines marred. Wait.
A couple seconds ago it wasn’t blurred? Satoru’s face feels wet.
It’s just the water.
It’s just the water.
He wipes at his face. Suguru looks up at him, and his eyes are…sad. Broken. Tired, as if repairing a broken thing far too many times.
His best friendーno his only friendーreaches out, brushing his cheeks softly with the pads of his thumb. Satoru leans into it, letting Suguru’s hands brush his eyelashes, eyelids, cheeks with a soft sort of intimacy that only two ‘friends’ that truly know each other can share.
Suguru presses a soft kiss to the side of his head, before dropping his hands and passing Saturo the soap bar. “Clean yourself up. I’ll give you the damn brownies afterwards, so don’t give me that look.”
Satoru sighs, dropping the puppy eyes that were directed at him. He takes the soap bar and stares at it momentarily before reaching up for his loofah and standing. Suguru turns away, his face a bit pink. “Warn me before you do that, yeesh.” He huffs, looking down.
Satoru smirks, sitting back down in the tub. He lathers the loofah softly, watching the bubbles slowly cover the gray loofah. “Big baby. You act like you haven’t seen me naked before.”
Suguru sighs. “Keep talking like that and me and Shoko will eat all the brownies.” Satoru gasps dramatically. “You wouldn’t!” Suguru shoots him a glare before leaving.
Satoru spends the next ten minutes scrubbing at every crevice in body, avoiding his wrists before also cleaning them, all while wincing and such.
Eventually Suguru returns, drains the tub for Satoru, and wraps a towel around him. Satoru grins the whole time. Suguru glances up at him as he moves to dry his hair.
“What’s that look for?” Suguru moves his hands through his hair, drying his snow white hair with soft hands. When Satoru doesn’t respond immediately, Suguru yanks on his hair softly, before sighing and continuing.
“I need to stop doing this. It’s like rewarding you.” Satoru hums thoughtfully, before nodding. “It’s just nice.” he murmurs, nuzzling into touch. “Being taken care of.” Suguru stops, cheeks flushing. He yanks on Satoru’s hair harder and Satoru lets out a yelp.
“Hey- what was that for-?!” Suguru huffs face, still slightly red, before kneeling in front of Satoru, who is still naked only covered by a mere gray towel that Satoru is pretty sure belongs to Suguru. Sugru takes his wrists in one hand and begins applying ointment gently to each red and angry cut. Satoru winces a couple times.
Afterwards, Suguru covers each one with bandages, patting them on his skin firmly. He helps Satoru slide a fresh new hoodie on himー one that is definitely Suguru’s. Most of Satoru’s clothes are more length wise, since he’s on the lanky tall side.
Whereas Suguru is a couple inches shorter than him, and more on the broad shouldered and large muscles side.
Broad and tall.
Lanky and thick.
Length over width.
Opposites on nearly everything, yet the closets of friends.
Suguru passes him the rest of his clothes, boxers and sweatpants. He slinks them on.