Satellite

Suga stepped out of the shower, tightened a towel around his waist, and walked across the bathroom to stand in front of the mirror. Using his palm, he wiped off some condensation in the shape of a circle. He leaned closer until his face was framed by the condensation that around the circle he cleared. He touched the mole on his cheek bone and moved his fingers up to trace the small wrinkles that branched out from the corner of his eye. He brought his other hand to his face and, with both index fingers, traced the smile lines that didn’t quite disappear when he stopped smiling.

The fan in the bathroom finally kicked in, and the rest of the condensation evaporated. He turned to his side and examined his torso. He turned back to face the mirror and pinched the skin above his hip bones. He had always been slender, and at one time he had been fit, but now he had trouble keeping any muscle mass at all. He turned around to look at his backside through the towel. He grabbed both cheeks, lifted, and let them fall. He frowned at himself in the mirror. “They didn’t used to fall that like,” he murmured aloud.

He accepted the gradual procession of time, but that didn’t mean he was emotionally prepared to face his aging body. He kept telling himself that he was only 27, that he was still young and had his best years ahead of him. He reminded himself that no one else noticed the slight signs of aging, even if those little things stood out to him like signal flares on the side of the road.

As he looked at his bare chest, he tried to remember what it was like to not care about his physical appearance. He was 20 when he dropped out of school, 21 when he left town, and 22 when he chose to enter the sex industry. It didn’t take him long to learn that caring for and about his body went a long way with clients. If he didn’t feel comfortable in his own skin, everyone was disappointed, which meant he spent a lot of time at the mirror.

It had been a little over a month since he saw his last client, only a month since he returned. He couldn’t help wonder if any of his most recent clients thought he looked as old as he thought he did. He screened potential clients thoroughly, and no one ever said anything about it, but the thought remained. He placed both palms on the counter and put his weight on them.

Suga shook his head and drops of water from his hair fell onto his dry shoulders. It doesn't matter anymore, he thought. He entered the sex industry for a number of reasons, it gave him freedom to travel as well as ample free time to pursue his interest in writing, but it was mostly to earn enough money to pay off his student debt as quickly as possible. Some of the people he met in the industry loved their work, which was great, but it wasn’t his dream job. After signing the last check to the company that held his loans, he moved back with the idea that he would settle down and exit the industry entirely. Get a job that could go on a resume. Make friends. Learn to cook. Normal stuff. Stuff that he didn't have to hide.

He straightened his back and started his bathroom routine. Floss. Brush teeth. Blow dry hair. There were a flew fly-aways that never fell flat against his head, and he begrudgingly accepted that it would be a cold day in hell before they decided to cooperate. Just for kicks, he tried to flatten them out. He laughed as they sprang back up. The bathroom light caught the silver of his hair and it shimmered as he ran his hands through the longer, more cooperative strands.

After wiping his face, he secured the towel around his waist and stepped out of the bathroom to make his way down the hall and into his room, which wasn’t his room so much as a spare bedroom that his closest friend was kind enough to loan him.

He hopped into the room, shut the door behind him, and leaned against it. The room was an utter mess. Suga let his head fall back against the door and stared at the ceiling. He wasn’t sure what he imagined his late twenties to be like, but staying in the spare room of his friend’s apartment with no college degree and no job was definitely not it.

After a couple moments, he huffed and walked over to the pile of clothes seeping out of a well-used duffel bag. He artfully maneuvered around piles of used notebooks and scraps of paper along the way. He went to school for English and creative writing and, even though he had to drop out of school, he continued to read voraciously and write almost every day. He joined creative writing groups, book clubs, and volunteered with various literary magazines whenever he could in whatever town he happened to find himself. He had a laptop, but he preferred paper and pencil, even if it made his life a little less organized.

Suga dug through the clothing pile aimlessly and hummed to himself as he tossed clothing left and right. He knew he was doing his best; he spent almost every day of the last month handing out resumes in the morning and almost every afternoon surfing the internet for a place of his own, but, so far, he hadn’t had much luck. He didn’t have job experience that was fit for a resume and his list of references was a blank page. People from the industry told him it would be hard to enter the workforce and they weren’t wrong. He wondered how long he would have to look for a job, how long he would feel like a burden to everyone around him.

Just as he shimmied into a pair of nicer-looking jeans, there was a quiet knock on the door. Suga knew that Asahi, his closest friend and only legal occupant of the apartment, wouldn’t come in until he confirmed that it was okay, so he jumped over his notebooks to open the door.

When shirtless Suga opened the bedroom door, Asahi yelped.

“Ah! Sorry!” Asahi blushed before taking a closer look at his friend and furrowing his brow. “Are you okay? Have you been eating? You look skinny.”

Suga scoffed. “This is just how I look. Not everyone has the genes of a were-beast, Asahi.”

The two friends were very different in stature. Where Suga was slender, Asahi was gigantic. He was tall, had rough facial hair, massive shoulders, natural muscle, and long hair. Asahi gave off a terrifying aura, which always made Suga laugh because, hovering right beneath his mobster-like exterior, was a timid, gentle soul that would have (and did, on numerous occasions) trouble swatting a bug.

Asahi tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. Suga thought back to his crazy fly-aways as he admired Asahi’s hair. In their freshman year of college, when they first met, Asahi kept his hair in a low bun and used a hairband to keep the shorter pieces out of his face. Now, his hair was much longer and he was able to gather it all in bun higher on his head. Asahi hated that people were intimidated by him, and the length of his hair didn't help the misinterpretations of his personality, but Suga never got a straight answer as to why he never cut it. One of Asahi’s many mysteries, Suga mused.

Suga grabbed the closest shirt and threw it over his head. Once his arms were through and he pulled the shirt over his chest, he turned back to his friend.

Asahi paused and scratched the back of his neck. Suga recognized the nervous gesture and his shoulders tensed up. Would this be the day that Asahi asked him to move out?

“What’s up? Are you okay?” Suga asked, unsure of whether or not he wanted to hear the answer.

Asahi removed his hand quickly. “Oh, yeah, everything’s great. I just wanted to know if you were busy tonight, you know, later.”

Suga let out the breath he was holding and relaxed his shoulders. “Ah, no, I’m not busy. What did you have in mind?” He couldn’t remember the last time Asahi initiated night plans with him, if ever. Now that he knew he wouldn’t be evicted, his curiosity was piqued. He started to pick up the clothing that littered his floor and hung shirts over his arm.

“Want to go to a bar with me? It’s a cool place and I think there’s a band playing tonight.”

The request was so surprising that Suga couldn’t resist having a little fun. He dropped the clothing he was holding and brought both of his hands to his heart. He gasped loudly and batted his eyelashes. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

Asahi smiled, rolled his eyes, and shifted his weight from one foot to the other, obviously embarrassed. Suga walked over to him and looked up to catch his eyes. “Have you been in love with me this whole time?”

It was hard to tell that Asahi was blushing, but the faint pink on the tips of his ears gave him away. He chuckled, “NO, Suga. I’m still not in love with you. Actually, I was invited by a friend and thought you’d like to join us.”

Suga thought about making another joke, but, still reeling in shock from Asahi’s interest in going to a bar for a night of drinking, music, and the distinct possibility of strangers touching him, he spoke with a slightly more serious tone. “Are you inviting me out as a third wheel? If you’re uncomfortable going somewhere to meet someone, maybe you should forget about them.”

Asahi responded. “N-no, it’s nothing like that! This friend let me know the show was happening and we thought it’d a fun thing.” Asahi paused. “Actually, now that I’m thinking about it, you met him years ago, before you left town. Do you remember a guy named Daichi? Sawamura Daichi? We ran into him at a karaoke bar one night before you left.”

Suga repeated the name to himself. His eyes widened when he remembered the evening in question. “Oh my gosh, I haven't thought of that night in so long! Hah! The Disney song! He was dating that tall guy with the crazy bedhead,” Suga tapped his forehead, “what was his name?”

Asahi looked confused for a second, like he didn’t remember there being another person that night. “Kuroo? Wow, it has been a long time. They’ve been broken up for years.”

Suga hummed thoughtfully.

“They’re still friends, though. I think they work together. At least they did the last time we talked. It’s been a little while since we last got together. So, what do you think?”

Suga grinned. “You’re lucky that I just did laundry and have something decent to wear.” Suga’s grin turned devious. “Do I have to pretend to be your date if someone tries to rub up on you, like we did in college?”

Asahi let out an exasperated sigh. “That was a long time ago. I’ll be fine?”

Suga snorted. “Very convincing. Your long hair and bulging muscles might make people shake in their boots when you walk down the street, but being at a bar is an entirely different situation,” he winked.

Asahi looked mortified. “I don’t try to, I don’t mean, I’m not - “

“Oh shush. You know you’re a handsome devil.” Asahi scrunched up his face and shook his head. “What time are we going?”

Asahi took his phone out of his back pocket and scrolled through what Suga assumed were text messages. “9:30?”

“Sure, though that seems early?”

Asahi shrugged. “Maybe it is. I don’t really do this stuff all that often.”

“Fair enough,” Suga replied. “What time is it now?”

“Almost ten. Are you job hunting today?”

“UGH, yes.” Suga frowned, suddenly feeling guilty. “You know, with money from my small savings account, I should be able to find an apartment soon, regardless of the job situation.” He looked at his feet.

“I know you’re looking and I don’t mind you staying. Honestly? Stay for as long as you want. It’s been fun. I’m glad we get the chance to catch up. Plus, you cook for me. It's a pretty good deal.” Suga looked up to take in Asahi’s countenance. He was a sucker for small, warm smiles, and Asahi had one of the best.

“You’re too good for me.” Suga laughed in the hopes that it came off as a joke. Asahi was the only one of his friends, family, and acquaintances outside the industry that, upon finding out his profession, didn’t judge Suga for his decisions or look at him any differently.

Asahi’s brow furrowed. “You know that’s not true. Anyway, I have to go now if I want to get to the school in time to plan before the kids come. See you after work?”

Suga gave him the thumbs up. “You got it. I’ll go grocery shopping and attempt to cook us some dinner. Gotta pull my weight around here!”

Asahi laughed and waved as he left and pulled the door closed behind him. Suga stood in place for a couple seconds before he grabbed a notebook and pencil and flopped down on the bed. He had a little time before he had to catch the bus into town, so he sat up and opened to a blank page. No words came as he tapped the paper with the pencil eraser. After a couple minutes, Suga gave up. He tossed the notebook and pencil on the floor and laid back down on the bed. Inspiration had been hard to come by lately, much like everything else.

He sung softly to himself and stared at nothing in particular. He wondered if Daichi was as handsome as he remembered.