You think about it often – it occupies your thoughts when you stare off into the distance with your chin tucked in the palm of your hand. It's just a game you play in your mind because you're bored or maybe because you're truly trying to figure it out.

The difference between Suguru and Satoru.

They are cut from the same material, those two. Always the strongest in the room, the first to action. Where Suguru is all manners and respect, Satoru finds himself lacking severely. You guess that comes from being born extraordinary – perhaps being even closer to godhood than humanity.

You aren't one to sell yourself short, but you have to admit that Satoru lives in a whole different sphere than the rest of the world. You don't envy him – the power comes with a heavy price and you don't always understand how often he has to pay for it.

Satoru lives his life on a whim, with quick decisions and even quicker thinking, while Suguru tries to see the bigger picture. You think that if they stood on opposite sides of a battlefield, it would not end well for anyone involved.

A friend group of three often calls for trouble. It is an odd number, one that does not occur often in nature. Two hands. Two eyes. Two halves of a whole. The world likes symmetry and even numbers, the ones that can fit neatly into order.

Your friendship with both of them is the opposite of orderly. It's not equal, not in a way that would make it less complicated. You call it brotherhood, the thing that connects both of them that leaves you out in a way that you are aware – have been, for a long time.

It is intimate, not in a sexual context, but in a compassionate way. Suguru and you are the closest people to understand how it is to be Gojo Satoru. With power comes responsibility, and Satoru has lots of it. So much that you are sometimes worrying that it is getting too much for him to handle.

"Huh, you look so creepy when you stare off like that."
The face of the man you were just thinking about shoves itself into your line of vision.

"If you keep scrunching your forehead it's going to give you wrinkles," he says and tries to smooth out your forehead with his index finger. You slap it away.

"Don't you want to marry someday? You'll have to take more care of your appearance if you want to attract a man."

"Satoru," you growl in warning. You can hear Suguru snicker from where he sits behind you.

You all sit together in the common room after a mission, filling out the paperwork (well, Suguru is doing that, but only because he lost in rock-paper-scissors). You sit sideways on the couch, elbow on the backrest and your cheek in your palm, when Satoru decides that he would rather annoy you than distract Suguru. He is taking one for the team, after all.

Something about his statement bothers you, and it's not the fact he insulted you. "I won't even think of marriage for the next, like, five to ten years."

Satoru tilts his head. "Why?"

"I don't know," you throw up your hand in a vague gesture, "our job is too dangerous to settle down and have a family. I'd rather not leave anyone behind when I ultimately meet my demise."

"But we're the strongest." It is Satoru's favorite thing to say, a cure to everything. "Why are you worrying about death n' shit?"

You look out the window again. "If one is not Gojo Satoru, death is a very possible outcome, you dingus. Right, Suguru?"

He doesn't look up from his papers when he responds, checking off several boxes on the paper in quick succession. "I'd rather not discuss our mortality right after you say that you don't think much about your future just because you think you won't have one."

You cross your arms. "You make it sound like I expect to drop dead any second! It's just a fact that we are more likely to die during missions. Like – I don't know - firefighters, or police officers."

"Yeah, because firefighters and police officers are weak non-sorcerers, not born with a technique like yours," Satoru retorts. You pluck the sunglasses from his hands and put them on. They are his usual ones, the ones you like most, with circular lenses and a blue hue.

"Flattering me now, Satoru?"

You flop over with a grin and lay down on the sofa, your head against the armrest and your knees drawn up. You bury your feet underneath his thighs and wiggle your toes just to annoy him.

"It's a cold, hard fact that death is something we face in our line of profession," you continue, not willing to let this go so soon.

"Yeah, but," Satoru retorts because he always has something to say, "Not us. Never."

"You can't think of death as something that only happens to 'other people', you arrogant prick."

"This is a depressing topic," Suguru comments. "There's no use in thinking about dying. Make it through another day and save as many people as possible. That's what it means to be a sorcerer."

"Amen," both you and Satoru say at the same time, which makes you laugh out loud.

"Anyways, no husband and kids for me anytime soon. When's your wedding, Satoru?"

"My family is itching to marry me off and make me spawn a few brats to pass on the Limitless technique," he yawns and crosses his arms behind his head. "Out of spite, I'll remain single until my balls dry up."

"Gross, dude," you snort and, after a brief moment of consideration, point your finger over the sofa to where you know Suguru sits. "If anyone of us marries, it's this guy right there."

"What? Why?" Satoru protests, seemingly forgetting that he wrote off marriage just a few seconds ago.

You shrug. "He's respectful and caring."

Suguru shoots him a smug grin that you don't see.

"And I'm not?"

"I'm not saying that none of us will marry, I'm just stating the fact that if one of us could do it, it's Suguru," you elaborate and hide your grin at Satoru's competitiveness, even if it is over something stupid like marriage eligibility.

You stretch out your legs and put your feet on his lap, one ankle crossed over the other. This is nice, you thought contently, to think of a future where all of you could be happy and alive.

Satoru stares at you, or rather, his sunglasses sitting on your nose. You shove them up into your hair and say, "They're nice. Can I keep them?"

"Nope," he instantly replies and reaches out with his hand. "They're my favorite."

"Too bad," you say innocently.

One heartbeat is all the time you get when you see the mischievous glint in his eyes. You jump up before he can grab your ankle and drag you back, and run behind the sofa, using it as a shield between you. Satoru quickly destroys your plan by jumping over it with ease, a triumphant grin on his lips when he stands a mere meter in front of you. You run.

A pearl of laughter, loud and unrestrained, escapes your throat when he chases you around the table, nearly grabbing your shirt and making your heart race.

You simply decide to play dirty and run to Suguru, placing him between you and Satoru who is close behind you, his freakishly long legs the only reason he's able to keep up with you.

Suguru sighs when you turn him in his swivel chair in accordance with Satoru's movements. When you realize that you can't keep that game up for much longer, you position yourself with your back to the door and make a run for it, shoving Suguru in his direction to gain a second of time.

"You're done for- what, Suguru! That's two-on-one! No fair!"

You giggle and gasp when you look back and see Suguru blocking his way by simply standing there and crossing his arms with a grin on his face.

"Sorry, Satoru. You can get new ones."

You tear the door open and rush through the hallways, spontaneously deciding that you are going to visit Shoko in her lab.

Satoru groans and falls down onto the sofa, his close victory slipping through his fingers like sand.

But it's not that bad, he thinks, that you're running around with his signature sunglasses sitting on your face for everyone to see like a mark.

He grins. Maybe he wins after all.