Be My Mistake ┌ꜱʜᴏᴋᴏ x ꜱᴀᴛᴏʀᴜ┐

Chapter Four

"I just told you, it's not a good time for me to talk right now," Shoko retorted possibly for the nth time and tried to rush past him. That was a foolish move on her part. The manbaby standing in front of her was above six feet tall, taller than an average Jujutsu High dorm room door. Compared to him, she was the same size as a minion, but in heels. The next time she attempted to move, her head bumped right into Satoru.

Towering over her with his giant body, he felt his heart stop for a split second when her head hit his chest, right in the middle where he had left two of his buttons open, before sealing the light lime blue shirt starting with the third button, that perfectly hugged the entirety of his upper body. Just enough for Shoko's nose to pick up the scent of the deodorant, he was wearing.

If he could, he would let her rest her head against his chest for a second or two longer, as he saw in one of those cheesy romantic K-dama movies. At the same time, Satoru was still perfectly aware-

She was not his to hold.

That thought alone had been eating away at Satoru's spirit in silence all these years. Several fucking agonizing years, before he could finally get to touch her, let her burn him, leave him hanging by thread at the edge of a cliff at the end of the fucking world and still made every cell inside his body beg for more. More, More.

Just the thought of that bittersweet afternoon sent chills down his spine and a tingle down the side of his cock, so much so he almost started to raise his arms around her waist but stopped immediately, when her mud-brown eyes looked up at him, with a tinge of confusion in them before taking a step back. Taken aback for a second there, he broke that eye contact that Shoko held on to for a couple of seconds, then looked away just as he did.

"Sho, I've been looking for you since the morning. I even went to the hospital looking for you and they informed me you left early today-" he started to blabber to fill in the dead silence between them.

"Satoru," Shoko interrupted, clutching her hair back from her forehead, "I had a long day, whatever it is you want to say, can wait," she sighed.

"Okay, but-" he gulped, semi-nervous trying to reuse an ancient trick that Suguru and he concocted back in their days as students to get Shoko to help them in their totally silly and mostly illegal shenanigans; things she most definitely didn't wanna get her hands into. He pulled out a lighter and a pack of Marlboro from his pocket, tossing the cigarette pack over his right hand, he grinned, "Need a light?" he was so close to stammering.

This man had never held a lighter in his hand before, nor did he know how to even hold a cigarette. Even with his infinity on, he was not fond of playing with fire; the fire being the woman standing in front of him with her eyes glued to his hand and then shifting to his face, criticism beaming off her sight.

Even while continuing her resting bitchface, those three words were enough to stop Shoko's feet where they were and made her eyes take a peek toward that empty pack of cigarettes in her purse. She had been trying to quit all these years without the slightest spark of success. She could feel the skin underneath that nicotine patch tighten as Satoru clicked the button of the lighter making the flame flick out from it.

"Ah fuck," Shoko groaned biting her lower lip, her eyes now glued to that pack of Marlboro in his hand.

After twelve years it still worked just as good as it did the first time they pulled it on her. With a cigarette between her fingers, for Satoru, time passed like a gush of wind and soon they found themselves sitting inside a tavern on the edge of the town.

"You're planning to give up teaching?" she raised an eyebrow at him before shifting her gaze back at the lighter's flame, igniting the cigarette's mouth as Shoko posed gracefully on the wooden chair with one leg placed upon the other. Her skin glistened with a little perspiration across her forehead and the same on her cheeks. Satoru's eyes gazed at her for a split second through the opaque black film of his glasses, particularly dazed looking at that tiny singular mole beneath the lower lashline of her left eye.