[The warm pressure of fingers set against his number comes as a shock. Satoru's inhalation is sharper than it should be, betraying his surprise, his attempt at steadying himself immediately giving way to a quaver that spreads through his chest and surfaces abruptly.
Suguru's fingers are fleeting. They apply light pressure. And yet they sear into his skin. They have the distinct effect of making him feel cut open, exposed — everything he's attempted to bury drawn forth into the open.
(If Satoru expected the press of Suguru's fingers — if he knew that Suguru would reach out on his own, seizing more than he was offered, not unlike when Satoru intertwined their fingers and took what Suguru did not want to give — what would he have done? Activated his Infinity, to shut Suguru out? Jerked away? Pressed back, the equivalent of Suguru clutching his hand, and asked: Do you think this is long enough?
No. Of course not. Satoru has never sought to hurt Suguru. For all his picking at their wounds, he never intended to reopen them. Suguru is bleeding out an emotion that is dangerous, foolish to indulge, clouding his judgement — but Satoru will not make him stare at the damage. He will not double down and force Suguru to feel as he felt when Suguru clenched his hand.
He'll try to staunch the flow.)
When Suguru pulls back his hand, Satoru releases his hair. He wants to rub his numbers, to ease the impact, to mimic Suguru's touch. He holds back, even as Suguru asks his pointed For you? — even as his numbers burn.]
Yeah. 846. On a robot with no arms or legs.
[The only reason he remembers is because he carried the robot around for a little while, staring at it. He hadn't realized the number was high at the time — nor was he aware of his own number at that point — but it still made an impression.]
It had a big mouth though.
[Or whatever the robot equivalent of a voice box is. It babbled a lot.
Satoru says all of this without turning around. He is attempting to settle himself — settle Suguru — before he does so. Staunching the flow with nonsense.
Finally, he rolls onto his back and looks up at the ceiling. In the corner of his eye, he sees an orange blur. It's only right for Satoru to face Suguru in full — to take what Suguru is offering, after Suguru just took so much from him. He should roll over and touch those numbers — which must be higher than 421, given Suguru's question. He should press his fingers into them, and return the favor.
But Satoru thinks about their two hands, forced together. He finds his ring with his fingertips and gives it a twist.
He says:]
You don't have to show me.
[They're just numbers, currently meaningless. They have no bearing on their vow, nor do they affect their partnership. Suguru can keep this secret. Satoru can keep himself reined in. They can refrain from taking more, when they should be focused on taking less.
Satoru drapes his arm over his eyes, blocking out the glow of Suguru's numbers, shielding himself from the sight of his cursed energy.]
They probably stand for something stupid, like —
[Every conclusion that springs to mind would lead to Satoru having a higher number: how many people you annoyed, how many times you forgot to brush your teeth, how many times you died playing video games —
How many people you killed, Satoru thinks. How many lives you ruined. How many bad things you've done throughout your life.]
— how many times you've said please or thank you.
[He finishes the statement lamely, losing steam by the end, weighed down by new considerations.]
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Suguru's fingers are fleeting. They apply light pressure. And yet they sear into his skin. They have the distinct effect of making him feel cut open, exposed — everything he's attempted to bury drawn forth into the open.
(If Satoru expected the press of Suguru's fingers — if he knew that Suguru would reach out on his own, seizing more than he was offered, not unlike when Satoru intertwined their fingers and took what Suguru did not want to give — what would he have done? Activated his Infinity, to shut Suguru out? Jerked away? Pressed back, the equivalent of Suguru clutching his hand, and asked: Do you think this is long enough?
No. Of course not. Satoru has never sought to hurt Suguru. For all his picking at their wounds, he never intended to reopen them. Suguru is bleeding out an emotion that is dangerous, foolish to indulge, clouding his judgement — but Satoru will not make him stare at the damage. He will not double down and force Suguru to feel as he felt when Suguru clenched his hand.
He'll try to staunch the flow.)
When Suguru pulls back his hand, Satoru releases his hair. He wants to rub his numbers, to ease the impact, to mimic Suguru's touch. He holds back, even as Suguru asks his pointed For you? — even as his numbers burn.]
Yeah. 846. On a robot with no arms or legs.
[The only reason he remembers is because he carried the robot around for a little while, staring at it. He hadn't realized the number was high at the time — nor was he aware of his own number at that point — but it still made an impression.]
It had a big mouth though.
[Or whatever the robot equivalent of a voice box is. It babbled a lot.
Satoru says all of this without turning around. He is attempting to settle himself — settle Suguru — before he does so. Staunching the flow with nonsense.
Finally, he rolls onto his back and looks up at the ceiling. In the corner of his eye, he sees an orange blur. It's only right for Satoru to face Suguru in full — to take what Suguru is offering, after Suguru just took so much from him. He should roll over and touch those numbers — which must be higher than 421, given Suguru's question. He should press his fingers into them, and return the favor.
But Satoru thinks about their two hands, forced together. He finds his ring with his fingertips and gives it a twist.
He says:]
You don't have to show me.
[They're just numbers, currently meaningless. They have no bearing on their vow, nor do they affect their partnership. Suguru can keep this secret. Satoru can keep himself reined in. They can refrain from taking more, when they should be focused on taking less.
Satoru drapes his arm over his eyes, blocking out the glow of Suguru's numbers, shielding himself from the sight of his cursed energy.]
They probably stand for something stupid, like —
[Every conclusion that springs to mind would lead to Satoru having a higher number: how many people you annoyed, how many times you forgot to brush your teeth, how many times you died playing video games —
How many people you killed, Satoru thinks. How many lives you ruined. How many bad things you've done throughout your life.]
— how many times you've said please or thank you.
[He finishes the statement lamely, losing steam by the end, weighed down by new considerations.]