Stopped Shrinking My Text Bc I Got Lazy - Blog Posts

⟶ no one will ever know the way you and satoru love each other

cw:: fem!reader, fluff drabble, reader is a liiittle nice this time wow

“How do you possibly bear him?” your friend asks, laughing over her glass of wine. “He’s like a kid! Don't you want a more serious guy?”

Your friend doesn't see the way he cares for you. Your friend doesn't know of the way he gathers you up in his arms, peppering wet kisses all over your face when you have nightmares. She could never know the times he follows you to the bathroom while you shower because he hates to be apart from you, or the times he makes you laugh so hard you pee a little.

She has no idea of the reverent touches he leaves you with every morning, or the bone crushing squeeze he greets you with in the evening. His enthusiasm to take up your chores, his boundless glee to spend even a single minute with you, the way his eyes seem to light up even further when you walk into a room.

“No, not really. He's wonderful,” you smile.

You wouldn't expect her to understand. Some people march into your lives and insist on turning it topsy-turvy, bringing a brilliant shade of blue into a greyscale world.

“She's boring as fuck, bro,” Satoru’s friend groans, slamming his beer back on the bar counter. Satoru snorts at his sloppiness. “Don’t laugh. She is. You need to find a younger chick, you know, someone more like you.”

Satoru thinks about punching him, but he decides it's a worse fate to never know your true nature. After all, it's not like his friend sees the way you pretend to not notice when he sneaks candy into the shopping cart, or whenever he catches you stifling a laugh at his antics. His friend doesn't see the times you're spontaneous, taking a day off work because you “just missed my fiancé, okay?” And he certainly doesn't see how you always let him pick the movie, and watch with rapt attention because you like whatever he likes.

Satoru is the only person who gets to hear your low voice talking him back to sleep, or your sleepy “get off of me, you whale,” when he wakes up draped over you. The way you kiss him, the way you interlock your hands with his, the way you ruffle his hair whenever you're standing over him. It's all his.

“She’s better than me,” he grins, throwing back the rest of his drink.

Some people, he muses, are designed to bring a much-needed sense of straightness and order to an otherwise chaotic life. Someone to be the rising sun of a new day, casting a soft morning glow over where the moon has kissed.

Perhaps, some are born to meet each other.