Should I start speaking informally? Should I softly grab your arm? Should I close my eyes for a moment? Should I wait a little more?
Satoru announces as he kicks his shoes by the door and paces inside. He bought gifts, kudzu mochi from a train station shop. Looks tasty, maybe Megumi will finally like something he brought home.
Megumi greets him distantly. Satoru shakes his head. He's had a nice today, he's not going to let a nine-year-old ruin it for him. He drops the bag of mochi on the kitchen counter.
"That's the best you got, Megumi-chan?"
He teases, crossing the hallway to reach the open living room, and with a swift strike he picks Megumi up from where he's sitting cross-legged on the floor.
Megumi protests, groaning when his book dramatically falls off his lap and to the floor.
"I'm going to have to look for my page now because of you."
"You should've thought of that before being so tiny."
Megumi frowns, pouting as Satoru carries him to the back of the house.
"... I'm nine."
"It's normal for me to be this size."
"Not my problem."
Satoru replies, and Megumi rolls his eyes. His angry fists rest on Satoru's shoulders as the older man walks, which puts a discreet smile on Satoru's face.
When Satoru reaches the balcony at the far back he opens the door with his foot, takes a single sstep inside, and turns on his heels before free-falling onto the floor. Megumi shrieks, clinging onto his top reflexively, making Satoru chuckle as they land on the futon on the ground with nothing but a soft thump.
He teases, grin stretching across his cheeks. When Megumi huffs out a breath it licks across Satoru's lips and the tip of his nose. And then he has to close his eyes for a moment, all six of them.
Megumi murmurs after a moment, little body relaxing on Satoru's torso as he gets comfotable, he kicks his little feet up.
"Why do you always wear this thing over your eyes?"
Megumi asks curiously, Satoru can sense his little fingers itching to touch, reaching to the fabric but stopping at a safe distance.
"My blindfold you mean?"
He says, sliding a hand up to cup the back of Megumi's head, running his fingers into silky soft black strands.
"Blindfold, glasses. All that."
"You don't like them baby?"
Satoru teases, Megumi grunts, digging his elbow into Satoru's ribcage to express the amount of negative energy this man builds up inside his tiny body. Satoru loves him to his bones.
"Don't call me that. I'm not a baby."
"You're my baby."
Satoru chuckles at his stubbornness.
He plays with Megumi's hair a little, caressing and gently tugging on the strands. He feels Megumi relaxing even more, and his own heartbeat picks up when Megumi exhales out a soft breath of contentment. It feels like home.
"If you don't want me to wear them with you at home just say it and I won't."
Megumi gives it some thought. It irks Satoru that this little kid is so cautious around him, but maybe it's his dada's energy rubbing off on him, or maybe his soul can sense the barriers Satoru's mind often ends up crossing when he's thinking about the two of them alone together.
"Do your eyes hurt?"
"They do sometimes."
"Can I see?"
Megumi asks softly, childlike wonder in his borderline squeaky voice. Satoru breathes out a little laugh.
"Take it off me yourself if you want to."
He purrs. Megumi is so pure, so young. If Suguru was here he would've kicked Satoru for the underlying innuendo. But Suguru's not here no more, is he.
Suddenly Satoru doesn't want to open his physical eyes, and he panics and almost grabs Megumi to stop him-- but it's too late.
Megumi lifts up the fabric gently with his little hands, face so close to Satoru's, big green eyes boring into Satoru's blue skies. He looks soft, content, a little drowsy because Satoru's still playing with his hair.
Satoru's smile stretches towards his ears, lips parting as he takes in Megumi's physical appearance. A sigh of relief leaving his mouth, like this little boy's presence enough is so strong to hold him down, anchor him safely.
He greets the boy. Megumi hums, little hand sliding to the side to rest on Satoru's temple as his small fingers hold the fabric open.
"Your eyes are pretty."
"Your face is pretty."
Satoru shoots back, smiling even wider when Megumi averts his eyes with an annoyed huff. His cheeks turn a shade pink, and Satoru presses his teeth together in order not to say anything he probably shouldn't.
He reaches up and presses a kiss on one of those rosy cheeks.
Megumi jumps out of his skin, groaning with the movement and whining out a 'Satoru~!' in protest. And Satoru laughs, majority of his negative energy washing down with the sheer joy this child brings him. He then tugs on Megumi's hair gently to turn his face and press a kiss on his other cheek.
Megumi frowns, winking his eye when Satoru's lips squish his baby cheeks. Satoru chuckles, nuzzling his face into the soft skin and squeezing Megumi tighter in his arms. Megumi pushes at him, trying to make himself some space, making it very obvious how much he hates this chokehold physical affection.
"I thought you were tired."
He accuses, irritation evident in his tone. And Satoru is about to tell him something cheesy, like 'but you cured me', or something. But then it dawns on him that yeah, he is tired. So tired.
With a sigh Satoru loosens his grip, and falls back down on the futon, eyes dropping closed.
He admits, lets the fatigue mirror on his tone.
Megumi's fingertips brush Satoru's shorter hair strands away from his face, and Satoru leans into his touch, smiling.
"I think I'm going to take a little nap."
Satoru announces. He opens his eyes, blinks up softly at Megumi's worried face.
"Keep me company, will you, Megumi-chan?"
He doesn't want the boy to say no. But Megumi tilts his head, purses his lips, debating it inside his head.
Satoru wants to kiss him. On his pursed lips.
"Let me grab my book. I'm not sleeping."
Megumi decides finally. Satoru lets him crawl out of his hold and watches him go, only because he knows the boy will be back.
In the end Satoru doesn't get any napping done. Instead he watches Megumi quietly read his book on his chest, shaking his tiny feet in the air when something particularly interesting happens.
Satoru knew what he was signing up for when he decided to keep the 'Ten Shadows' Zenin boy. Well, maybe not too much, because he was nineteen, and he had just lost his winding wheel, and came back from the dead. He was in no place to be making life-changing decisions, but he knew what he was signing up for. Maybe.
Megumi groans when he slips and falls, cursing under his breath so Satoru won't hear him saying curse words as though Satoru isn't the one he learned them from. Satoru walks to him with his hands inside his pockets, glases lowered to his nose because Megumi doesn't like them.
"Too much for you, Megumi-chan?"
He teases, not much joy to his voice today. He's distracted, not sure what he's thinking about.
"Of course not."
Megumi snarls, clasping his hands together to summon his wolves again. Satoru hums, waves his hand around dissmissively. They don't have all day to train today, Satoru has to run an errand for the higher-ups.
"Get up then."
Megumi is quiet for a beat, and he doesn't move to get up either. When Satoru fails to notice it Megumi has no other option but to lower his face and grit his teeth through an awkward confession:
"What do you mean you can't?"
Satoru tilts his head down to look at him, like actually percieve him, and then he's startled to find tears on the boy's cheeks. He crouches down to his height immediately.
"My knee hurts."
Satoru comments, but it's lighthearted. Megumi gives him a dramatic sigh and Satoru offers him a smile.
"Alright, enough training for today. We have places to go, can't have you limping around."
He pats the boy on the back before holding his hands and tugging him to stand up, but immediately halts when Megumi hisses.
Megumi's not a very verbal kid, and he absolutely refuses to let his pain show, so he's developped and is still developing a high pain tolerance. Satoru respects that. But it also means that if the boy is making noises it's not for the theatrics. Megumi's knee is badly scraped, it all happened in the blink of an eye too, holy shit, Satoru thinks.
He crouches back again and picks Megumi up bridal style.
The first protest is a snarl, which Satoru can't really be sure whether it's because he's being picked up or because his knee hurts. The second one is a pout.
"I didn't ask for your help."
"I can take care of myself."
Megumi doesn't say anything else. He huffs out another breath, giving up, and wipes his cheeks with the backs of his hands. Satoru carries him to the kitchen and sits him on the counter.
"You gotta grit your teeth through this one."
Satoru warns him as he opens the fridge. He doesn't have any medical iodine, only vodka. And Gumi's gotta make do. But this is not the first time Satoru's done questionable things to him, so he'll live.
Satoru grabs the old bento box that they now use as a makeshift medical kit from on top of the fridge along with the half empty bottle of vodka and kicks the door closed. He flicks open the cap, takes a sip, groans, picks out a piece of cotton from the bento and presses it to the tip of the bottle before dipping it to wet it. Megumi has his genuine what-is-wrong-with-you face on as he watches the process, but at least he's not crying anymore, which is good enough.
Without a warning Satoru grabs Megumi's leg, his palm nearly wrapping all the way around the limb which almost gives him a nosebleed, and presses the cotton on the peeled skin.
Megumi yowls, and Satoru can't help the snort and the following chuckle that bursts out of him, absolutely losing his shit at the eleven-year-old belting out the F word like that. Megumi's tears are running down his cheeks again, but Satoru's laughter shocks him enough to distract him from the burning pain.
Satoru lifts up the cotton and pads around the wound, cleaning it out diligently and trying to stop laughing. Megumi hisses occasionally, but he looks fine. He's looking at the wheezing Satoru with the fond expression of a cat owner watching their cat throwing up furballs.
Satoru's laughter dies down gradually. He applies some ointment and quickly closes over the wound with a Hello Kitty bandaid. He watches Megumi dangle his short legs down the counter, testing the pain. He hums, Satoru smiles, proud of himself.
He asks, bending over a little to push Megumi's messy hair out of his face, and Megumi nods, moving his knee again to push at Satoru's face.
He mocks, a hint of a smile in his playful tone. Satoru wants to kiss him, Satoru wants to kiss him so damn much.
So he turns his face to the side, cheek brushing against Megumi's skin before his lips find the bandaid and he presses a little kiss. Megumi's leg jolts, as though Satoru hit his knee with a toy hammer, and Satoru chuckles lightly.
Megumi comments. Satoru plants another kiss, hooking Megumi's leg over his shoulder and trying not to think about how lewd this position is right now. His mental Suguru bonk bonk bonks him. Jokes on him though, Satoru's into that shit.
"I'm kissing it better."
Satoru argues, nosing at Megumi's soft skin and trying to keep his tongue inside his mouth with extreme willpower. He drags his open mouth along Megumi's leg, hot breath fanning over baby skin before he presses another lingering kiss over his ankle, slowly trailing down.
"You're so weird. Stop."
Megumi groans, kicking at Satoru's shoulder. Satoru lets him go, keeping his eyes closed for another breath or two before finally blinking up at Megumi with a hazy little smile on his lips, eyes slightly hooded. Megumi doesn't see through it.
"Wash your face. We're leaving in ten."
Megumi carefully hops off the counter, testing his steps before deciding his knee is fine, and proceeds to walk to the bathroom to freshen up. Satoru stares after him, lips tingling with the ghost of Megumi's skin still all over them.
Satoru can't say he's ever been a responsible person if he were to take the concept of being responsible under the glass of society's general consensus regarding the meaning, but he can for sure say he's at least tried his best. Is trying.
Taking care of his own self is easy, he's untouchable, he knows what he's doing. And one part of him still partially leans on the gaping indentation left behind after Suguru, but whatever keeps him afloat keeps him afloat. If pretending there are still people who look and pick up after him keeps him going, then he doesn't see why he shouldn't indulge his delusions.
But that's not how it is with Megumi.
Megumi is a whole different being, someone Satoru didn't know anything about until nearly half a decade ago, and is currently, slowly but gradually and surely, becoming the center of his universe. As grounding as it is. And admittedly, terrifying.
Satoru hasn't felt fear in a long time, pain and hurt he's only grown accustomed to. So when he wakes up one morning to an unconscious and sweaty Megumi in his bed the first thing he feels is shameless arousal. Megumi looks delectable, shirt ridden up his little tummy, breathing faintly, not moving, bangs stuck to his forehead. Satoru wants him all to himself, lay his hands all over his little body, grip his bony thighs and show him a good time.
Satoru, he's thirteen, his mental Suguru scolds, Satoru sticks his tongue out at him, you're not the boss of me.
Not anymore. With his morning wood raging inside his briefs Satoru raises a hand towards the little boy, fully intending to feel up a little bit of his exposed stomach, but he yanks his hand right back in shock when it finally makes contact with Megumi's skin.
He doesn't understand what's happening at first. Maybe that's his mental Suguru cursing him for daring to ruin the innocence of this unconscious little boy, or maybe Megumi has some protection curse around him that Satoru hasn't noticed before. Both are stupid and impossible reasons, so Satoru reaches again, pressing his palm flat into Megumi's tummy. The boy doesn't even stir, Satoru's hand burns nonetheless.
An alarm rings inside his head, the kind that rings when there's a natural disaster, to indicate something's not right. Something's so not very right, something's not right at all.
Satoru jumps on top of Megumi, knees on either side of his waist as he holds his face inside his palms, sweaty and burning and hot and unconscious. Megumi's got a fever.
Satoru hasn't felt fear in a long time, but now he feels it in his bones, shaking him to the core. Because Megumi is sick, so feverish he's passed the fuck out, and Satoru has not even the slightest clue on what the fuck to do to make him better.
He tries shaking Megumi awake, gets no response, and blanks out. He's Gojo fucking Satoru, this makes absolutely no sense.
When he finally starts getting his gears back grinding he pulls up his phone and calls Ieiri, a palm pressed into his forehead, sighing as he waits for her to pick up. Lucky for him she doesn't let it drop to voicemail like she almost always does whenever Satoru calls, and listens without interrupting as Satoru babbles his way into the problem at hand. She chews him out for being so useless and stupid, and in absolutely no condition to take care of a child on his own. Nothing he's never heard of before, so the words slip out of him without sinking in. He doesn't care.
Ieiri takes pity on the little boy, fully aware of the direness of the situation, and instructs Satoru what to do word by word like she's talking to a toddler, or in this case, to someone really stupid with absolutely no basic survival skills whatsoever.
So Satoru strips Megumi off to his underwear, hands trembling with the desire for more as he removes each clothing, telling himself over and over that he has to make sure Megumi is healthy again first, and that now's not the time to succumb to temptations.
It takes Megumi some time, but eventually as Satoru lets him soak in the icy cold bath Megumi wakes up, shaking and chattering, tears on the pits of his eyes. He looks confused, and in pain. Satoru can relate, oddly.
Megumi calls out, blinking slowly, and Satoru breathes out a sigh of relief.
"You're smoking hot baby."
He tells the boy, mental Suguru is rolling his eyes, and so is physical Megumi who has finally grown enough to make out the innuendos Satoru sends his way. Puts a little smile on Satoru's face.
"But don't worry, I'll take care of you."
"That's exactly why I'm worried."
Satoru tuts, disapproving. How dare he, when Satoru's been putting warm food and clean clothes in front of him for years. Megumi props his arms on the side of the bath tub and pillows them under his face, staring into Satoru's face with an empty gaze.
"I'm going to die."
Megumi declares, and Satoru frowns, splashes some cold water into his face and feels something snap inside his chest when Megumi barely flinches from the freezing cold.
He mutters, though he knows exactly where the boy's gotten the attitude from.
He wraps Megumi up in towels and carries him back to bed, helps him into one of his own thinner t-shirts now that Megumi doesn't ahve the power to fight back, and drops clean underwear on the bed before going to the kitchen to get him some water.
It's a lot of work to keep Megumi functioning for long enough to put some food and medicine in him before Satoru can safely leave him to rest again. He leaves some towels drenched in icy cold water before draping them all over Megumi's body, the boy hisses in complaint but doesn't do anything else. He wants to be out of Satoru's intensive care as quickly as he possibly can.
Satoru smiles down at him.
"Feel any better?"
He asks, teasing to his tone. Megumi wants to roll his eyes but he doesn't have the energy.
"Check my temperature."
Megumi orders him, impatient. Satoru chuckles, a mischevious glint to his eyes.
He leans in, presses a kiss on the plump of Megumi's cheek. Megumi gasps, scandalized.
"What're you doing?"
He pouts. If Satoru turns his head just a little he can kiss him right on that pout too.
"Checking your temperature."
He replies nonchalantly, eyes unbashedly glued to Megumi's lips. When he moves to press a kiss to the other cheek his lips almost brush to the younger boy's, and all six of Satoru's eyes flare like somebody held a flashlight to them. It's electrifying, even brushing slightly past the energy field.
It disappears when Megumi presses his lips together into a thin line, and Satoru moves to press his lips to his cheeks.
"A bit better."
Satoru mumbles, pulling away merely.
"Still, maybe I should check elsewhere to make sure."
He doesn't wait for Megumi to respond before tilting his head down and pressing his mouth directly at the pulse point on Megumi's throat.
Megumi gasps, and Satoru feels like he's been struck by lightning.
"I hate you."
Megumi tells Satoru one day the moment the latter steps foot into the new house they're staying at. Satoru freezes on spot, hand still holding the doorknob, very dumbstruck. He hasn't been home in weeks, he was hoping for maybe a hug or something, but looks like that's not happening anytime soon.
"I brought souvenirs."
He replies instead, trying to shake off the shock. Megumi is sitting on the couch, staring holes into his phone, brows knitted and jaw clenched. He growls in response and Satoru blinks.
He says carefully, approaching the boy slowly like he's a velicoraptor and Satoru is Chris Pratt. When he moves to sit on the couch in front the him Megumi moves to get off his seat.
"Fuck off 'Toru."
He snarls. Satoru's had his fair share of teenage rebellion, but this isn't it. Megumi's eyes are red and puffy and Satoru can't bear to look at him when he's like this. Not happening, not under his watch. Not when he's here.
So Satoru reaches and grabs onto Megumi's shirt, dragging the fifteen-year-old right back down to the couch and caging him inside his arms. Megumi grunts in protest but doesn't actually put in any effort to break out of Satoru's grip, though his scowl deepens. Pulls a huff of laughter out of Satoru, lighthearted as he falls down into the cushes and pulls Megumi along, pressing the boy to his chest.
"Did you miss me?"
He whispers, amusement clear in his tone. Megumi grunts something unintelligible and it sounds like he's denying the older man's claims, but Satoru knows him well enough. He slips a hand into Megumi's hair, opening his legs to fit Megumi's inbetween before wrapping his lanky legs around the boy's as well, clinging to him like a koala.
"Were you worried about me, baby? Sorry I didn't call."
Megumi scowls again, body tensing with his words and hands curling into fists, he pounds them lightly against Satoru's shoulder. Satoru sighs, eyes fluttering closed as he squeezes Megumi tighter, running a hand up and down his back soothingly.
"Don't give me that face Megumi."
"You can't see my face."
"But I can."
Satoru shoots him down.
With a huff Megumi gives up, gritting his teeth as he hides his face into the crook of Satoru's neck. Satoru's heart skips a beat, and he has to take a deep breath to make up for it, breathing Megumi in. His body relaxes the more he acknowledges the boy's weight on top of him, the feeling of his hair wrapped around his fingers, sounds of his shaky breathing, the warmth of his face.
Satoru calls out, his voice soft, quiet, like it's the middle of the night and they're at a sleepover, trying not to wake the other kids up.
"I'm never going to leave you, ever. I'll always be right here."
He says, knowing exactly what kind of burden such words put on his own shoulders. But Satoru can smell abandonment from sixty miles away, and Megumi smells exactly like he did when Satoru was abandoned himself. He knows if he ever heard these words from Suguru things would've been way different, he just knows. He's not going to let history repeat itself. Instead, he's going to give Megumi exactly what he knows he needs.
"I'm the strongest, remember? Nothing can ever take me from you."
Satoru muses before he pushes Megumi's hair away from his face and presses a lingering kiss on his forehead. Megumi tenses again, hard as a rock, but slowly the tension eases out of him, Satoru's words sinking in, filling into the holes Megumi's fears carved into his soul.
"I hate you."
Megumi croaks, straining his throat to keep his voice stable. Like he can hide his tears from the older man, like he can hide anything from Satoru, even. Satoru only chuckles, he appreciates the effort, he's always loved how Megumi holds his pride.
He agrees, pulling an annoyed huff out of the boy. His grin only widens when Megumi's fresh tears splatter onto the skin of his neck, just this once Satoru chooses not to be an asshole. He doesn't acknowledge them, lets Megumi let it out, lay it all over Satoru. He can take it, if it's for Megumi, he can. Anything for him.
Satoru squeezes him close and presses another kiss into his hair, combing it gently with his slender fingers.
Satoru can't breathe.
This is different, everything about it is entirely different, his hands trembling from holding back for so long are finally right where they belong, fitting into Megumi's waist like they were carved form the same matter, made for each other. He can't breathe.
He gasps, and Megumi is right there, lying so pliantly under him, cheeks flushed red as he's clinging onto the hem of his t-shirt for dear life. He looks a little hesitant, a little curious. Satoru can't have him doubting, he's the best Megumi can ever have, better now than later. Satoru, Suguru says, and Satoru half expects another moral scolding because Megumi is only sixteen and sometimes looks at Satoru like he put the stars in the sky and-- Be gentle with him.
"What the fuck else, are you kidding me? Don't be stupid!"
Satoru scolds him, panting, unaware that he's snapping out loud to literally no one. He's so out of his head he can start crying. Runs his hands down Megumi's thighs, unaware of the weirded out look the boy is giving him. They've spent almost a decade together, surely Megumi's noticed Satoru's got a couple of his screws loose. Yet he's here, taking Satoru's breath away.
Megumi calls out, calls him back, beckons him over to the real world where he has his shaking legs spread wide open for him, exposed and vulnerable. Satoru curses, a low 'fuck', before his head falls forward, eyes fluttering closed.
"I'm right here baby, Megumi, I'm going to make you feel so good. So good baby."
He promises, unaware of how hard he's gripping onto the boy's hips. He's only been so overwhelmed because of his cursed technique before, back when he was younger and were still learning to handle the ropes. But here with Megumi, it's a trip.
Satoru forces himself lower, drooling as he presses open mouthed kisses down Megumi's stomach, sucking hickies into his groin and getting whiplash from the way Megumi squirms and moans for him. He whines, like Megumi is his kryptonite and Satoru's fully aware of what he's getting himself into. Who would've seen that coming? Not him, that's fure sure.
Satoru breathes. A kiss so tenderly pressed inside his thigh that Megumi sobs, already a mess. I love you. Another kiss, an inch lower. I love you, I love you. Another, another, another; all the way down to his ankle, and another one right there, he thinks Megumi can feel it too, the way his soul craves him, aches for him. He noses back up and trails another set of kisses down the boy's other leg, imprinting himself into Megumi's body.
Between heaven and earth, Megumi belongs to him, and to him only. Satoru holds Megumi's smaller hands inside his own, fingers intertwined as he kneels before him, on his knees where he belongs. He presses a soft kiss on the back of Megumi's hand, hazy blue eyes boring into Megumi's glittering green. He's the most beautiful Satoru's ever seen him.
Anually, Satoru disappears.
When he was younger Megumi hadn't paid it any mind. Satoru's prone to disappearing and then coming back again, usually with gifts. He's the strongest sorcerer out there, he has things to do. Megumi always, always knows that no matter what happens, Satoru will eventually find his way to him.
In time he learns. The same exact date, February 3rd, and Satoru is nowhere to be found. Well, it's not like Megumi's ever actively searched for him.
But then he does. And Satoru, like a moth to a flame, like the moon orbiting around the earth, like a migrating bird en route; finds himself with Megumi again. It's not exactly a private matter, not really. He just never knew he could've been leaning on somebody all this time instead of running away.
Megumi finds him at the top of a cliff near an abandoned cemetery, clutching a bouquet of blue roses and periwinkles and stokesias to his chest, blindfold wrapped so tightly around his eyes it's giving him a headache. Megumi crouches next to him.
He says, and then it's like seven years ago and Satoru is scared to drown inside his own brain. But Megumi's hands aren't as small and unknowing as they were back then, now he knows what he's doing to the white-haired man as he undoes his blindfold and softly takes it off of his face.
"What are we doing here today?"
Megumi asks him, tucking some white strands behind Satoru's ear absentmindedly. While it does put a habitiual smile on Satoru's face it doesn't reach his eyes.
He answers. Megumi looks at the bouquet in his lap, and then back to his face.
He mumbles, voice growing small.
"I didn't bring any presents."
Satoru stares at his face, unreadable, because when is he ever? Not for Megumi, at least. He can tell there used to be somebody who knew him better than the back of his hand.
"But you did."
Satoru says after a beat, eyes deprived of any emotion. Unsettling, to anyone but Megumi. He knows what he's dealing with, what he's signed up for, what and who he's learnt to love.
Megumi lowers his knees to the ground, and slowly crawls into Satoru's arms, wraps his own tightly around his shoulders. Maybe if he squeezed tight enough he could put Satoru back together, mend his broken pieces with his soul as glue, just like how Satoru did to him, knowingly or not.
Satoru doesn't hug him back. Megumi swallows down a lump.
He calls out, softly, with his siren voice of his, demanding all six of Satoru's eyes on him in a way that Satoru can do nothing but comply.
Megumi leans back, gently cradles Satoru's face between his palms. His eyes flutter close as he leans in and presses his lips against the older man's.
He can't say he knows what he's doing, but with Satoru it feels right to take the first step, give him another first. And Satoru, moth to his flame, burns away into his ashes on the edge of Megumi's mouth.
He doesn't break apart, not quite, but he gently lays down the bouquet on the grass to wrap his arms around the teenager. Hunches his back and burries his face into Megumi's chest, closes his eyes and breathes him in. Nothing but the pitter-patter sound of Megumi's beating heart exists for his senses. Megumi breathes out, holds him tight, presses his cheek on the top of Satoru's head where he leans.
He'll give Satoru as many kisses as he needs to make him feel whole again. (And if it is so that Satoru will never ever be, Megumi will never ever stop kissing him. He's stubborn, Satoru likes that.)