Chapter Text
School is easy. Always has been, always will be. At least, for Suguru Geto. The concepts come easy to him, less than a few minutes and he's already gotten the hang of whatever it is the teacher is spouting about on the board.
His grades, however, beg to differ. They stay at a healthy standstill of 'average'. It's honestly not much of a problem for him to purposely write down mistakes every once in a while. Put the wrong sign on number eight, 'forget' to divide on number twenty—it's alright. He's taken all the necessary steps that he thinks should be taken in order to remain average.
So why the hell is this still happening?
A grunt is punched out of his chest, back hitting the cement walls roughly. Suguru scowls, rubbing the spot where he got hit. "Ow."
He peers at the boys standing above him with muted interest. Three of them. They're named...er, well, he doesn't particularly care. Honestly, he should know by now, considering the amount of times they've beat him up, but it just doesn’t cross his mind. At all. Suguru thinks they want answers for the latest test, or perhaps his lunch money. Maybe they just don't like his general demeanor. Is it his hair? It's weird for guys to have long hair, but at least Suguru puts his in a bun. He quite likes his hair. He thinks he maintains it quite well—
"Hey! Are you even listening?" the grunt scowls. Unfortunately, Suguru's disinterest earns him another kick to the ribs. He sputters, frowning in disgust as he swallows back the blood in his throat. He's not too keen on dirtying the floors, thank you very much.
"Sorry, what was that?" Suguru manages to say, blinking up at them. Oh, speaking of, it could be his eyes. They’re a lovely shade of purple, a color he’d gotten from his mother. Actually, he supposes he got most of his looks from his mother. He’s been told he looks a lot like his mother, past his nose and the shape of his face. There’s—
The sole of a shoe connects with his chest, and blood bubbles in his mouth. Ew. He swallows it back again.
“Listen when we’re talking, you fucking—“
There’s a long pause, as if the guy couldn’t quite remember what he was about to say. Suguru looks up, expression prompting. “…fucking? Fucking what?”
Now that he thinks about it, there’s only one person now. Where are the other two? Hm. He must’ve gotten lost inside his own head. That could be part of the reason they pick on him so much. At least they have the decency to kick him in the chest—that way, his mother wouldn't worry. Plus, the twins. They wouldn't worry either. Though Nanako isn’t really the type to worry anymore. She gets mad a lot lately.
“You look constipated.” Suguru remarks, staring up at the boy. Promptly, he falls over, a bump quickly forming on the back of his head. And— oh, there’s another person. He isn’t quite sure how he missed that.
The first thing Suguru notices are his eyes; a brilliant shade of blue. Blue is quite an understatement, since they seem to shimmer in the sunlight, but that’s the best he can do, especially since, oddly, the guy is wearing sunglasses inside. Then his hair. Suguru’s never seen powder-white hair before, especially not on people less than fifty.
Pretty.
Would be prettier if he stopped scowling though. Suguru doesn’t particularly care. It’s just a fact based on observation.
The new guy flexes his fingers, face twisted into a sneer. His brows are furrowed down, and he stuffs his hands in his pockets immediately, kicking the guy on the floor. The one that isn’t Suguru anyway.
He rises to his feet, taking a moment to regain his breath. Getting kicked in the stomach isn’t all that pleasant, after all. Suguru turns to the other guy, smiling politely. “Thanks.”
The nasty expression doesn’t melt off his face. Ah, it seems he has an ego.
“The hell were you doing there, gettin' beaten up?” he barks, before jutting his chin out in Suguru’s general direction. “Would’ve expected someone with those things to be the one doin’ the beating.”
Suguru absentmindedly raises his hand to his ear. “Do you mean gauges?”
A scoff. Suguru finds himself mildly ticked off by the noise.
“Whatever.” the other snarks, peering at him with a frown, eyes squinted.
“I’m Suguru Geto,” he offers.
“I know.”
There’s a beat of silence.
“I was sort of hoping for your name too,” Suguru explains, as if speaking to a small child, busy with fixing up his bag to go. It seems to piss pretty eyes off, judging by the way his hand twitches within his pockets.
With a rather arrogant expression, he retorts flippantly; “As if you don’t know my name.”
Before Suguru can tell him that, yes, no, he doesn’t actually know his name, he moves to leave the classroom. Wow. Suguru has never met such an egotistical person. It’s interesting. Halfway through the conversation, Suguru would have liked to plunge his fist into that beautifully sculpted nose.
Though, as per usual, Suguru is mature enough to disconnect his feelings from his actions, and goes on his merry way. Slipping his bag onto his shoulder with practiced ease, Suguru makes his way out of the classroom.
“Oh, wait,” he murmurs, before rummaging around in his pocket. It doesn’t take much to pull out a small case usually for tic tacs. Suguru had filled it with his meds though. He’s certain that at some point, he founds it quite funny, but the sentiment doesn’t linger anymore. He pops one in his mouth, fishing his water bottle out to take a swig.
The journey home is pleasant as always. Halfway through, as the sun sinks below the horizon, his phone starts to buzz.
“Hi Nanako,” greets Suguru, after sparing a quick glance at the caller ID. It’s labelled Nana. He finds it improper, though he was the one to set it, back when he’d just gotten his phone. Hm.
“Hi.” she says shortly, voice tinny over the speaker. “What’s taking you so long? You’re usually home by now. Mom is worried.”
“School project.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“I don’t need you to.” he answers simply, standing up as the bus pulls up to the stop, doors hissing as they open. Suguru can practically hear Nanako scowl over the phone as she hangs up without another word.
He pockets his phone. Nanako’s been really temperamental, ever since last year. How old is she again? Suguru thinks she and Mimiko are around the age where they get those teenage mood swings. Figures.
”I’m home,” he calls out, unlacing his shoes before placing them on the rack. Nanako rounds the corner just as he finishes, eyes narrowing and scowling at the gesture. Suguru smiles at her politely. Her expression sours even more, and she strides towards the dining room.
“Welcome back!” his mom calls from somewhere in the kitchen. Narumi Geto is a woman of mature beauty, and the parent from whom Suguru got most of his looks from. She's kind and passionate and annoying; but in the heartfelt way. Although lately she's always sad. Suguru's not quite sure why.
Mimiko follows from the same direction Nanako had come from, smiling at him with apprehension. Again, Suguru flashes her the same smile he gave Nanako. Instead of getting angry like her twin sister, Mimiko looks defeated, following into the dining room. Suguru shrugs, carefully placing his bag near the door of his room.
"How was school?" his mother asks as he sits, sliding his chopsticks between his fingers.
"It was alright." Suguru answers amicably, biting off a piece of his katsudon.
His mother smiles, though the gesture is quite strained. Nanako scoffs. Mimiko stays silent. Suguru continues eating. This is how their dynamic has gone on for quite a while now, and Suguru isn't quite sure what changed. He can clearly remember them being close—especially him and the twins. They used to spend a lot of time together, and he practically raised them for the first half of their lives.
A piece of katsudon lodges itself in his throat, and Suguru attempts to cough it out. The gesture turns out to be a mistake, however, since his ribs start complaining. It seems he forgot about being beaten up earlier in the morning. Suguru bites his cheek, hand shooting to his side.
"Suguru?" asks his mother, concern furrowing her brow. "What's wrong?"
Carefully, he removes his hand from his side. Thankfully, the piece of food had already left his throat, and he smiles. "Nothing, really. Just choked on food. Usual things." he lies easily.
"Yeah, usual things," Nanako snarks from across the table, but is promptly silenced when Mimiko slaps at her forearm. They share a look; one of those looks that only twins can decipher. Suguru absentmindedly remembers being able to understand Mimiko and Nanako's "twin looks", but he supposes not anymore. Maybe he's grown out of it.
The rest of dinner finishes on a stale note. Nanako storms up to her room, and Mimiko tentatively follows. Suguru clears the table, and starts washing the dishes.
"Suguru," his mother starts gently behind him. He turns off the tap.
"Yes?"
His mother's expression is conflicted when he faces her. She's a proud woman, his mother, but a loving one all the same. It's almost wrong to see her look this worried and sad. She's been sad for a while now. Suguru supposes he should feel upset about that.
"How are you?" she asks, after a long pause. It's an open-ended question.
"I'm quite alright."
Something passes through her gaze, but she nods all the same. "That's good."
She leaves Suguru to finish his work.