The cicadas are loud in the late afternoon, singing somewhere in the trees above Jujutsu Tech. Summer clings to the air in a thick haze, golden and slow, the kind that makes everything feel lazy. You’re lying on your back in the courtyard grass, Suguru’s hoodie bundled under your head, and Satoru’s long legs are thrown over yours with Suguru sitting cross-legged beside you, absentmindedly plucking at blades of grass and flicking them toward Satoru’s face.

“You’re the worst,” Satoru mutters, swatting one away from his cheek. “The actual worst.”

Suguru doesn’t even look up. You hum, eyes fluttering open to watch the two of them, familiar and sun-kissed and perfect. This has always been your rhythm — bickering, lounging, orbiting around each other in a lazy kind of gravity that’s always felt inevitable. But this summer? This summer changed everything.

It started with a dare. Something dumb during a late-night study session that spiraled when Satoru leaned in with that cocky grin and said, "What, scared to kiss us?"

It wasn’t supposed to mean anything. But then it was another kiss the week after that. Then another. And then suddenly it was all three of you, curled up in Satoru’s dorm with the lights low and hearts hammering, kissing like you were all a little too desperate for it.

Suguru’s gaze flicks to you now. “You’re quiet.”

“So are you,” you mutter.

Satoru stretches, dragging a hand through your hair like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “You’re being shy,” he grins, that too-big smile hiding something. “Thinkin’ about the kisses, huh?”

“No shame,” Satoru adds, leaning over you until his sunglasses slip a little down the bridge of his nose, letting you see the glint of his eyes. “You’re not the only one thinking about it.”

Suguru shifts then, and his fingers brush yours, deliberate. “We should talk about it,” he says, voice low.

Satoru groans, flopping dramatically. “No talking. Summer’s not over yet. Let’s keep doing the dumb thing and pretend we’re not already stupid for each other.”