#OHHHH how the art of peeling an orange for your crush is the act of devotion

[starglossie]

devotion is found in the cracks of orange peels. 

word count: 1k+

“suguru.”

“yes, satoru.”

suguru responds by muscle memory rather than actual thought. the way satoru says his name (in a tenor pitched with mischief. doused in a certainty only those born of godhood could wave around without sounding pompous) speaks volumes. he wants something. suguru only needs to wait to hear what that something is. 

satoru extends his closed fist to suguru’s face. smoke lazily crawls from the withering end of suguru’s cigarette he bummed (read: stole) from shoko. “hah?” he drawls, looking at satoru’s slender fingers and immaculate nails. he lazily glances over at suguru, who looks at him with his glasses dropped down the slope of his nose and a wild, toothy grin. 

“peel this for me,” he opens his hands and out pops an orange resting in his palm.

suguru is not dumbfounded by this turn of events. satoru is a man of whimsy. what he wants, he gets. what he wishes, he doesn’t seek for. rather, he makes it happen. not by demand-but by a stitched into his flesh expectation that his desires would always manifest themselves before him.

in other words: he’s spoiled. 

satoru bats his eyelashes at him as if he hadn’t asked the most childish request known to mankind. suguru knows satoru is aware of how much he can get away with him. 

there’s a split second where suguru considers not fulfilling the request. after all, satoru has ten fingers that are all working perfectly fine as the gods intended them to do. it’s not as if satoru didn’t know to peel an orange with his fingers. he couldn’t feign ignorance with this one-not like the other week when he insisted he couldn’t take the subway because he didn’t know how to read the lines (he knew damn well how to read them, he simply refused to take the subway when ichiji was available). 

“suuuuguru.”

“saaatoru.” suguru mimics the whining pitch of satoru’s not subtle whining. satoru frowns. 

“you know i can’t peel oranges.”

“can’t? or won’t?”

“semantics, i hate that game. let’s play a new one: suguru-peels-this-orange-for me-game!” he waves his hands around like he’s announcing a new game show. suguru stares at him with his best, unimpressed gaze. satoru’s face falls flat. he huffs. “what sort of best friend are you? unwilling to help in my time of need? distress? dismay?”

suguru takes his cigarette out and grinds the butt onto the ashtray beside him. he rolls his eyes but takes the orange out of suguru’s hand. “one who likes to see his best friend learn a thing or two about taking care of himself,” he playfully nags but his fingers begin to work along the orange peel. it’s methodical work. his nails dig into the skin, just enough to make a crescent-shape dent. and then he pulls back the flesh, disrobing the orange to its barest parts. 

as he works, the cicadas hum. it’s a humid summer this time around. june’s sun is unforgiving so after their last mission, the two boys chose to rest at the inn they planned to spend a night at-paid by the school, of course. suguru’s sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and satoru’s pants are rolled up past his ankles. suguru kept his hair in a tight bun so his neck wouldn’t get hot.

despite the heat, and the many ways they’ve tried to keep themselves cool and out of the sun’s unforgiving scorch, satoru presses against suguru as he works and rests his head against suguru’s shoulder. 

“you’d make a great housewife one day,” satoru muses after a beat of silence. 

suguru ignores the erratic rhythm his heart takes at that sentence. “you gonna marry me?” he jokes, wishing he could bite his tongue off and never speak again. the orange is nearly finished. a gentle act that suguru probably took more time getting right than he needed to. than he should have. 

he damns himself by peering down to see satoru’s reaction. there’s a redness on satoru’s cheeks that suguru’s mind quickly associates to the summer heat. and nothing more. because more is a gateway to hell. while suguru believes he is already destined for the fire, he doesn’t want to make his inevitable descent come any faster. 

but satoru grins at him. cheeky, as if there’s a secret between his lips that he’s daring suguru to come and taste. satoru hums, closing his eyes shut. “sure. how about next summer? after we graduate? i can buy you a ring later today.”

the summer burns; but satoru incinerates suguru down to ashes. 

the orange is peeled. six slices to be eaten. suguru puts the skin of the orange beside the ash tray and hands the slices back to satoru. who takes the orange with a “thank you!” and plucks one out. he pops the rest of the slices into his mouth one by one and sucks on his finger to clean up any excess juice. suguru doesn’t watch for long. he finds a tree off in the distance and bores his holes into the bark, finding that more fascinating than satoru next to him. 

“this is the best orange i’ve ever had.”

“you’re ridiculous,” suguru snorts, still not looking at satoru. of course, their conversation about marriage and weddings and next year and promises goes off into the wind. spoken between them yet the weight never settles. never takes root. but it doesn’t have to. they’d be together next year, and the year after that, and the years to follow. there was no need to really talk about it when both of them knew their endpoint: one another. 

satoru crosses his ankles and leans back against the wooden floorboard of the porch. he closes his eyes. “i’m serious, suguru. you know they say oranges taste better when they’re peeled with care? when they’re taken apart with love?” he opens one eye. a piercing, endless blue that has suguru forgetting to breathe. “it was delicious, suguru. now? i can nap in peace.” and he shuts his eye. his chest rises and falls. and soon, satoru is asleep. just like that.

suguru stares at satoru with his mouth agape. of course he’d fall asleep after saying something so - so “unbelievable,” suguru’s ears burn and his cheeks are a wildfire. he cups his face with his hands and stares off into the distance of the garden. he smells the faint scent of orange on his fingers and scowls. “i need another cigarette.” 

he stands up to find shoko. but he’d return once he finished his cigarette.