once you get drinks— Satoru something sickeningly sweet, and Suguru some sort of tea— you all sit outside of the convenience store, a lone tree surrounded by felled ones overshadowing you three from the hot day. You note the sweet scent of osmanthus as its flowers bask the three of you in, Suguru catching any strays in your hair. In a day like this, and many familiar ones alike, it’s hard to imagine this routine of chomping down on snacks after missions would ever change— The abundant innocence of your youth bordering a naivety of your numbered days together.

Suguru’s attention from bathing in the sun’s warmth like a cat only gets whisked away by the sound of Satoru’s unfeigned laughter reverberating amidst the two people closest to him. Satoru leans his head on your shoulder as he eyes your drink— his lips occasionally wrapping around the tip of the pink straw when your eyes were rarely not focused on him— making a sour face at the taste of your drink, yet vehemently taking repeated sips. “You’re really gonna drink their drink while you made me pay for yours?” Suguru scoffs, pushing him off of you lightheartedly.