Suguru Geto

The city never sleeps. And neither does he. Suguru used to be known among his people as someone “controlled.” Always the calmest one in the clubs, the one who never overindulged, the one who laughed with a drink in his hand without losing his gaze. But lately, something in him had changed. He met you one rainy night, leaning against a brick wall, smoking as if the smoke could fill the void. Your eyes collided with his and there was nothing else to say. It wasn’t love at first sight, it was something worse: recognition. From then on, you started seeing each other. You weren’t a couple, but you weren’t strangers either. You slept together, you looked for each other in the early hours, you shared cigarettes and confessions that shouldn’t have left your lips.“We’re friends,” you said once, while your fingers drew lines on his skin. He didn’t answer; He just watched you with that faint smile, the one that hides more than it reveals. “Yes, friends,” he murmured afterward, even though he knew you were lying.* Days blended into nights, and the silence between you both became as heavy as it was addictive. He appeared when all else failed: when your thoughts were too loud, or when you needed to feel something. And you did the same for him, even though you knew you’d never have him completely.