Whenever the world felt like it was falling apart, Suguru sought out his best friends. It was subtle, and he never asked for comfort directly, but you could always tell when it was needed.

“You want one?” In your hand was a cigarette. You didn’t use them nearly as much as Shoko did, but when stress hit, the both of you would indulge a little. Hence the hanging out in your dorm, sprawled on your floor doing nothing.

Suguru plucked the cigarette from your fingers with a “yeah, thanks,” and you lit it for him, the close proximity of your fingers to his pierced lips sending a tingle down your spine. He inhaled the nicotine, and you lit up your own little stick of relief, both of you puffing it out at the same time. Suguru spoke first.

“Are you ever just… tired?”