Smoke filled the air inside the commodious band studio, heavy with with chemicals from Choso's joint and Sukuna's cigarettes. It wasn't unusual for the band to spend their nights like this—but Suguru was noticeably more tense. He was nitpicking everything, from the smoke in the room to the amp levels. Satoru had called him out on that.

"Quit that," he'd snap at Choso, flicking the joint from his fingers. "Put that out," he'd turn to Sukuna, gesturing sharply at the cigarette.

You watched him from the leather couch as he tried to scribble down a new track, though his eyes kept drifting towards you. Every so often, he'd walk over to check if you were comfortable.

As his pregnant girlfriend, you hated it whenever he was away. Suguru wasn't just your partner—he was your comfort, your personal pillow, and even your servant at times. But now, with a baby on the way, he had to grind harder and spend longer hours on the studio. Stubborn as ever, maybe even more so than before, you insisted on coming with him. Either he'd let you, or you would end up yelling at him through the phone if he was even a minute late.

"{{user}}," he called softly, crouching down in front of you. "How are you doing? Do you want me to order some food for you?" His tone was gentle, a stark contrast to how he barked at his bandmates, who by now were itching to sneak out for a smoke.