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doodlebob2073 · 14 days

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Damn this made me tear up

know it’s for the better. - g. suguru

pairing: geto suguru + reader, implied gojo satoru + reader

summary: but butterflies cannot see their own beautiful wings, so he’ll gladly worship you quietly.

warnings: canon au, angst (please forgive me ily all), mentions of violence, vulgar language, crude humor, time-jumps, cameos from shoko, megumi, yuji, nobara :3 comfort.

word count: 16.8k

a/n: this fic has been my baby for a month, i’ve poured so much love into it. treat her well <333 loosely inspired by the songs “first love/late spring” by mitski and “waiting room” by phoebe bridgers. there are so many references to so many things in this :) some quotes that i will think about forever. hope you enjoy.

october, 2006.

“nine out of ten times.”

it’s the first sentence you say out loud after minutes of silence, and you’re given a puzzled look. it kinda makes you want to laugh, the confusion etched across his face so foreign that it’s rather intriguing. he’s golden, even under all the darkness. the world makes space for fallen angels.

“nine of ten times… what?”

you resist the urge to thumb that furrow in his brows, the creases looking wrong upon his soft features. you only smile, snuggling closer to him. either the room is magically colder, or suguru forgot to close the window. you give him the benefit of the doubt.

“that i would choose you.”

you’re slurring your words almost, but more from the plain laziness in your movements rather than from genuine exhaustion. suguru hums, fingers tapping along your arm. it may be around four in the morning, but you couldn’t sleep.

the both of you hadn’t been able to for a while.

not since riko, not since toji, and definitely not since the new scar trailing across your stomach. shoko hadn’t been able to make the repair seamless.

you didn’t really mind. a lot of things seemed pointless nowadays.

“and the other time?”

your eyes linger on the strand of hair that always falls imperfectly on his face. a little crack in his flawlessness, though you’re not sure how grand that observation actually is.

you sit up a bit, propping your head with your arm as you look down at his pretty brown eyes. narrow, as they currently are, but still evidently alluring.

“well, i think it’s okay to be selfish sometimes.” you reason, voice soft. sometimes the dependency you had with suguru worried you. waves can crash, but the water itself remains. you think you’ll always be bound to him. his, forever. and yet you say, “i’d choose myself. just for a bit of sanity.”

it’s meant to be lighthearted, but the silence that falls afterwards kills any tone of playfulness that statement might have held.

you wish you had been a little more greedy.

•••

september, 2007.

emotions were complicated things.

it’s complicated to process the bullet you watch fly through a child’s head. it’s complicated to process your near-death experience. it’s complicated to process process the news of your classmate’s death. it’s complicated to process how it’s expected for you to go back to normal. it’s complicated to process everything.

so you curl up further, and hope that the news you’re hearing now is only a nightmare. because again, it’s too complicated to process.

“he killed them.”

and with the way satoru says it, repeats it, you think he wants you to sit up and hug him. be vulnerable, because god knows it’s been so long since you have.

but you lay there, back in the bed that you used to sometimes share with the criminal. the stillness makes satoru’s stomach drop, and he can’t will himself to say it again just for the chance of getting a reaction from you. but how much pain can a heart take? because it felt like yours might give out at any moment.

you didn’t sign up for this.

naively, no, you didn’t sign up for this.

“how many?”

you’re not sure why you ask. any number would have you spiraling, but with the silent refusal satoru gives by not replying immediately, you’re sure the answer would kill you alone.

he knows. he knows the exact number, he’d seen the report.

but he stares at your desolate form, eyes scanning the mess in your room. or, lack of. he hardly saw you get get out of bed these days if it weren’t for missions. the only sign of movement from you were the plushies that used to adorn your bed, now sprawled on the floor. for a second, he wonders if they’re gifted from who he thinks they’re from. but that thought feels stupid the moment he thinks of it, because - yes. of course they were. that man had loved you like his lungs naturally loved air. he loved freely, graceful in the way he cared. about satoru, about you. anyone, really.

so saturo makes a decision, hoping that it alleviates a little bit of the ache that he now concludes he will attempt to shield you from. because he cares about you too much to see you succumb to your own internal wounds. he wants you to be strong, like him. like suguru was. he can’t lose you too.

“i don’t know.” satoru lies, and he hopes that sentence can at least ease your heartbreak. but he feels it just as much. sorrowful, the kind of pain he’s been too familar with for a while now. he frowns when you don’t move.

obstruct from his view, your hands grip your sheets as tight as humanly possible, and you’re sure that you break skin through the fabric. you want to cry, but you can’t. not in front of satoru. not while he’s right there.

because this doesn’t affect you. you didn’t care.

so what? suguru had left you to the wolves. to fend for yourself. he became a monster. it didn’t bother you.

and you try to convince yourself to think the same when satoru sits beside you. you’re still thinking it as his shaking hand places itself on your side.

but you give up when he lays beside you, feeling his grief. and that pain only cements itself further as you begin to quietly sob months worth of misery.

you don’t feel much better after.

•••

march, 2008.

nine out of ten times, you’d like to be given the option to wipe your memory.

the other time would be the ability to travel to the past. it’s hard to decide which could be better, or arguably worse. maybe you could save haibara - tag along on that stupid mission and fight that stupid curse. switch places with him, even. the world seemed a lot duller without him in it. nanami spoke even less than he did before. you couldn’t keep up a conversation with him.

was it irrational to think that you might have been able to kill toji too? he just caught you on an off-day. you’re the reason he killed riko. it’s your fault that a child is dead.

there’s so much to be sad about, you’ve started to confuse those ugly feelings with plain normality. it’s natural to feel like this. you can’t really remember better days. they’ve blurred, causing twisted retroactive interference.

your rock had fled. any form of stability you had crumbled with the weight of your sorrow, and you’re forced to miserably pick yourself back up because you’ve never really been used to being alone. satoru wasn’t really around anymore, and shoko never left her studies. you certainly weren’t abandoned, but, unfortunately, you understood that grief couldn’t just halt time forever.

you’ve mourned so much, it feels silly to still have the same ache.

but how do you even move on? what’s the process like? because you’re almost certain you wouldn’t be able to survive it.

you’ve began to rid any remnants of him in your room; any proof of his existence. clothes, specifically, because they hold on to his scent, and you think if you stop for a moment to actually look at them you might break down again. you see memories in them. times where he’s worn the black t-shirts, or his white button-up. insignificant at first glance, but it’s your life you’re holding on to.

you stuff them into bags as quickly as you can.

if he’s not here, he can’t hurt you.

at least, not anymore than he already had.

you think it’s cruel that you’re stuck with a person’s presence even if they’re not physically there anymore. you’ll always associate this room with him. the world, at that.

and maybe it’s childish that your first response (after the sulking) is to trash his belongings, but you can’t think of anything more rational to do. the universe will move on without him. you can’t be left behind too.

when you’re finished, you’re not sure if the sight of five large trash bags and an emptier room makes you want to sob or hit something. it’s like life has lost it’s color - a new vision, duller than what was deemed humane. torturous.

yet you can’t bring yourself to pick them up and take them out of the room. you’re idle, staring at them like they’re just meant to disappear. you hadn’t realized how much your room consisted of just him.

trash, is what you’re unintentionally calling everything in them. but you don’t think that, never in a million years.

if it were up to you, you’d keep everything exactly where it was, and obliviously continue a cheery facade. but the thing about awareness is that after it’s discovered, you can’t really leave it. it’s branded into your mind, poking at your brain with a stick because it will annoyingly never have the intention to leave you alone.

it’ll sit with you in your darkest hours, and you’re unable to predict when light will shine through.

“dump them.”

you jump, defenses high on alert as you instinctively fall back. almost immediately after, you drop your hands, sighing.

shoko is leaning against the doorway, arms crossed. you’re about to ask her how long she’s been standing there for, but her lingering gaze on your conflicting pile of issues answers your question before you have the chance to.

“i’ll do it for you.” she offers, finally looking up to meet your eyes. they’re a little sunken in, and she looks restless. it’s the first time you’ve seen her in nearly two weeks. she’s ditched the short hair since a few months back, the length sitting comfortably at her chest now.

you dumbly stare, non-respondent on purpose. you don’t want her to do that.

she seems to recognize the discomfort on your face at her suggestion, and you watch as her brows bitterly furrow, a small glare now directed at the bags. but you don’t get much emotion other than that.

“you can’t cling on to this shit. it’s unhealthy.” she softly explains, shaking her head. you wonder if that’s her medical opinion or genuine concern speaking, but you don’t ask her to elaborate. instead, you turn around, taking a seat at the edge of your bed.

you kind of want her to leave.

“what’s healthy, then?” you retort, shrugging. it sounded a bit hypocritical coming from her. shoko had barricaded herself for the past six months, not even offering an ounce of genuine sympathy. in reality, you know it’s because she’s naturally avoidant. she didn’t crave support like you did. she didn’t need it like you had. because shoko has always been independent, never strung up on people. and you envy that more than anything.

“i don’t know.” she answers honestly, pursing her lips. but with one look around your room, and she’s certain it wasn’t this.

hesitantly, lets herself inside, eyes scanning the bareness. if it were any other day, she’d see suguru at your desk, or on your bed. he’d wave, and you would greet her with open arms. everyone knew the two of you were nearly inseparable (if it weren’t for satoru). the room always had a pleasant atmosphere when the two of you were in it. it feels cold and grim now, though. shoko has to fight a shiver.

you observe her, waiting for a joke or two. you’re nearly hoping, because any form of comedic relief had begun to be your craving. you needed an escape from all of this.

but instead, she turns back to you and wordlessly sits beside your tense form. it’s quiet for a bit.

there’s a charm that shines on the top of your desk, catching her eye. it dangles among other souvenirs, and shoko has to avert her eyes when she realizes that they’re all gifts from a certain deceased underclassman.

everything about this room feels like a graveyard.

“satoru comes back today.” shoko suddenly says, letting the first thing she can think of be verbalized. her eyes stay on the wooden floor this time. “he’s been in kyoto for a couple of days.”

you hum, nodding. you didn’t know.

if shoko kept her distance, then it was like satoru had completely faded. you couldn’t even remember the last time he had texted you.

then again, you weren’t sure if you’d even respond.

“i was thinking we could eat dinner together… when he gets back.”

your head perks up. barely.

that sounded familiar. mostly because it had been a routine up until recently. never verbally established, but it was natural for you and shoko to be accompanied by two towering sorcerers as you ate whatever satoru had decided on for the day. he was a picky eater. there’s a bitter taste on your tongue as you realize you’d be missing a member now.

“we can.” you nod, awkwardly kicking your feet back and forth. silence again.

you can feel shoko’s annoyance. how she’s trying to get you to talk, but you’re stupidly stubborn and refuse to. however, she knows you a little too well, and plays the waiting game. because she knows you’re weak when it comes to your heart, and weaker when it comes to the people you love. her included.

it’s not a relief when you finally break. if anything, it’s painful to hear, to watch. and though it’s only one question, it’s so complicated that it feels like you’ve asked her how the universe itself was created. simultaneously, it’s equally as simplistic.

it doesn’t even sound sad. it’s hollow, void of any distinct emotion. you’re staring at the wall.

“shoko…” you don’t pay attention to how she stills and watches you intently. you’re oblivious to the frown on her face, how she leans in just a little closer. and the widening of her eyes as you finish speaking. “how are you… okay?”

you feel particularly pathetic. shoko was so strong. satoru was the strongest. and yet here you were, more fragile than ever. on an alter, you’re a mere viewer from below. simply watching perched gods, basking in all their glory. the difference always evident, never comparable.

and yet shoko stares for a little, dumbfounded.

no, absolutely no one was ‘okay.’ the world was crumbling in front of everyone’s eyes. but you’ve always been a reminiscent person, she supposes. you search for familiarity. it’s harder for you to let go.

“did i tell you that?” she asks, more rhetorically than anything. there’s a teasing tone that her voice holds, but it does little to rid the tension of your question. you slowly shake your head.

“then how do you know that’s true?”

you shrug, fiddling with your fingers. “i don’t know.”

you want to tell her that your thoughts are purely based on toxic comparisons to yourself, but the air feels a little thick already, so you don’t.

“c’mere.”

there is no protest made when she wraps her arms around you, and forces you to fall into your bed with her. the pillows under your heads dip, and you’re enveloped in the softness of your blankets. shoko’s warm, and if you closed your eyes you might mistaken her hold to be like a mother’s affection. evident adoration, just by the touch. you’re derived and soak it up as much as you can, leaning into her.

it reminds you of late nights where you’d have sleepovers and gossip until the sun came up. too tired to train the next day, yaga ordering laps regardless of your visible fatigue. and you’d run with gleeful smiles, energy lifting as you were side-by-side again. an unexplainable friendship one could never truly describe with words, just pure thoughts. it’s sickeningly nostalgic, because you think about the fact that it really had not been that long ago. how quickly things change.

shoko nuzzles her face into your hair affectionately and sighs. she squeezes you tightly. declarative - ‘i’m right here.’ never enough to make up for the lost time and avoidance, but enough for now. because shoko didn’t act like this normally, and for you to see her in such a state meant more than just any regular apology.

“i think you know how to love better than any of us.” she admits, and that sentence alone has you curling a little more into her, your chest suddenly feeling tight. she leans in, and her lips form into a sorrowful smile as she observes you. full of pure understanding. again, a connection that could not be made with words. it feels a little spiritual. she brushes a stray strand of hair away from your face. “that’s why you find it all so painful.”

hesitantly, you offer a sad smile, her words all bittersweet. it makes you laugh a little distastefully, the reality of them hitting you at once. “well, that’s not fair.”

“it’s not.” shoko agrees, nodding. “but it’s a lovely thing.”

you make a face. recently, it’s only brought you suffering. the good bits don’t seem as worth it - as ‘lovely’ as she describes.

you pause, contemplating for a little. and your voice is affirmative, like you’ve never been more sure in your life. you kinda sound like a naive child.

“i don’t want it. take my feelings. i don’t like them.”

it’s true. it’s the biggest truth you’ve ever told with the biggest sincerity. and you know it’s not possible, that you’re stuck like this forever. a soft, easygoing heart that beats for everyone around it. your words make shoko snort - a real genuine laugh. you giggle through watery eyes.

“the world sucks.”

this time, it is a pitying smile that shoko gives you. lop-sided, and hesitant. she feels bad.

her arms leave you, and she opts to instead lay facing you, faces mere inches from one another. you’re both laying on your cheeks, against folded hands. shoko taps your nose.

“you know what i think?”

you hum, sniffing a little as you try to focus on the small amount freckles across her face instead of the overwhelming urge to let some tears fall. it works, for the most part. you count twenty.

“i think the world gives strong feelings to strong people.”

you smile at that.

shoko was something else.

“i’m pretty fucking strong then, aren’t i?” you mumble, tired eyes blinking as you sigh. shoko’s eyes crinkle as she returns the fondness, a hand resting on your cheek.

“definitely.”

and you can only hope she’s right.

there’s nothing that interrupts those sweet moments of tranquillity. where you can act like everything is just a little better, because in all honesty, it was. shoko’s good at making you feel like that.

if you really thought hard enough, this could be just another regular day. you want it to be.

you feel shoko’s finger poke your chest, and she gives you a pointed look. it’s like she could read your mind - subconsciously, as if she had the ability of a third eye.

“it gets easier. every day it gets a little easier. but you gotta do it every day — that’s the hard part.”

she leaves it at that.

you lay together, appreciating each other’s mere presence. and it feels nice. support, like you craved, but words even more. you aren’t able to formulate how much you adore her, but actions speak louder than words, so you shuffle just a tiny bit closer.

you’re not sure how much time passes by.

when shoko stands up, she rids you of her warmth, leaving the cocoon of wonder and comfort she’d so gracefully created for you. yet you feel fine, that isolating shiver now replaced with content. you think you feel a little lighter too.

“be outside by seven. if it’s up to me, we’ll all get sushi. no promises though.”

she’s back to being more standoffish, but still your same shoko. you nod appreciatively, the thankfulness worth the weight of a million tons. your eyes follow her as she walks across the room.

the door shuts, and you’re left alone again.

you can feel your heart beat a little faster, the realization of your commitment to the later plans finally dawning upon you. it would be the first real reunion since then. maybe a chance to talk things out. be levelheaded, get some communal closure.

or, maybe you’d be able to ignore the past and focus on the present. just act like friends eating lunch. because that’s all it was, wasn’t it?

begrudgingly, you force yourself to stand, too aware of the fact that your habits of wasting time in bed have far exceeded a reasonable amount over the past few months. it was time to get better, be better.

your hands grab the first bag.

it’s heavy, as you imagine all the other ones are. but you suppose if you don’t think about what’s in them, it’ll make the process a lot smoother.

you’re nearing the door when you stop.

it’s a small paper, it’s yellow exterior almost blending in with the sunlight escaping through the windows. you inch closer.

and it’s pathetic that the sight of his handwriting on a sticky-note makes you lose your breath. shameful, because how are inanimate objects this damaging?

it’s hung above your desk. by haibara’s gifts, and by notebooks you never really used in this academically-lackluster school.

you stare at it for a while, hand resting over your forehead as you take in every minuscule detail. you let go of the bag.

it’s the last note suguru had ever left you, made a few weeks before his disappearance. before everything went downhill. little poetic phrases that would embed themselves in your mind until death. you’re afraid to look.

it’s neatly written, displayed in purple ink. doodles of clouds and flowers surround the words. he had a habit of leaving them around. you suppose you never caught this one.

there’s a little heart next to his signature, encapsulating just a memory of lost devotion.

‘how strange to dream of you, even when i am awake.’

your hand crumbles the note in a second.

the paper is evidently weak, and when you open your hand back up, the words are still clearly there, haunting you. and you know you don’t have the heart to throw it away. or, realistically - throw anything away.

you fold the note gently, and leave it on your desk. your body yearns to leave, to escape the suffocation of what suddenly felt like walls that were caving in. you slam the door on your way out, bags and all left behind.

you’d definitely prefer to wipe your memory.

•••

april, 2005.

“you’re so annoying.”

satoru grins, standing proudly as you repeatedly attempt to hit him on the head, your touch stopped by his infinity. he’d only recently learned how to control it decently - claiming that he needed to because you had a bad habit of using him as your punching bag.

“you know what though? this is a good thing.” you muse, arms crossing as you finally give up. satoru’s head tilts, and you raise a brow. “no one wants to touch you anyways.”

there’s a dramatic pout that immediately finds itself on his face, and he whines from instinct, letting his guard down for a moment to shove you. you slap his arm before he has a chance to react.

“she’s right.” suguru nods affirmatively, earning a gasp from the white-haired male, and suddenly, suguru is being shoved too. you giggle, briefly making eye contact with him. it’s a little too quick for your preference, but the stolen glance has you holding your breath for a moment.

it’s exhilarating.

suguru is beautiful in a way that is hard to describe. but it’s not from a loss of words; you can speak endlessly about him. he’s everything a person could dream of and more. but it’s little gestures that truly draw you to him. how it seems like he always lingers, attentive and patient no matter what boulders you seem to throw at him. he’ll carry that weight on his shoulders easily, and with the most effortless smile. it’s a gentleness that you weren’t even sure was possible before you met him. he defies all expectations, all normalities.

“oh, i forgot to ask-“ satoru turns to you, raising his brows. sometimes his glasses bothered you. his eyes were freakish, yes, but you also had a conflicting urge to always look at them. “how’d your mission go yesterday?”

you cringe, involuntarily stiffening as you replay the events in your head.

“stupid semi-first grade. i let my guard down for a second and it almost clawed me.” you sighed, rolling your eyes. you fail to notice suguru’s eyes widen. “but we exorcised it right after. i swear i saw nanami shit himself.”

there’s a stark difference in reactions from both boys. while satoru snickers, suguru stays quiet. white and black.

“glad you’re still with us.” satoru beams, ruffling your hair before you have a chance to swat his hand away. “right, suguru?”

all attention flocks towards him, and you and satoru patiently await his response. he’s looking off to the side.

he feels a little childish.

there’s an uncomfortable pit in suguru’s stomach that he can’t shake off, and he swallows thickly, nodding with a dismissive cough. “yeah, glad it went well.”

obliviously, you flash him a thankful smile.

it makes him feel the tiniest bit better.

he wished yaga would pair you two together, or even put you with satoru. an actual backup - not someone below your skill level. haibara and nanami weren’t comparable; they were still new to jujustu. younger, less experienced. he holds a little resentment towards your abilities, and while he knows you’re never sent on missions that are tougher than you can handle, he always has an inkling of worry that lingers uncomfortably. he hates not being around you - not knowing if you’re okay. and he knows you’re a reckless fighter. you brush off the mention of critical injuries and move on, completely unbothered. the burden of stress came so easily when he was around you and satoru.

“you have another one tomorrow, right?”

you hum, nodding as you fiddle with the end of your uniform, sighing softly. “it’s across town i think. not sure who’s coming with me yet - maybe it’ll be shoko if i beg hard enough.”

suguru has to fight a wince. also not an ideal companion. shoko didn’t specialize in combat.

she’d only be actual help if you were wounded, and -

“why not me or satoru?”

he speaks before he thinks, and iternally, he punches himself in the face. he can see satoru stop moving in his peripheral vision. he thinks he sees a smirk. coy, but no words come out.

scoffing, you deadpan. “where’s the practice in that? you guys will kill it before i even get a chance to see it.”

and that’s true, because it’s happened dozens of times before. show-offs.

“we can get kikufuku after!” satoru exclaims, completely disregarding you as you begin to protest rather loudly. “i’ve been craving it. i haven’t had it since last week!”

“wait longer.” you sneer, glaring at him. “i rather go alone.”

now that, suguru would verbally be clearly against, without any hint of shame.

“boo.” satoru deflates, rolling his eyes at you. “that won’t even happen.”

it wouldn’t. you hadn’t earned that trust yet - the absolute certainty that you’d survive if you did a mission alone.

suguru’s glad.

“not yet.” you chirp, and the hopeful smile on your face doesn’t help anything. “but soon enough.”

there’s that unwavering aura you always hold that makes suguru feel a little sick. it’s determination, stubbornness, that follows you and keeps you whole. when you talk like that, words void of any doubt, he knows you mean it. and you’ll accomplish it, because your will for achievement is stronger than your rationality.

but he has you now, right in front of him, so he’ll ease himself of the worry. for now.

“in a million years.” satoru remarks, sticking his tongue out at you, not even bothering to look your way as you hold up a rather unpleasant finger in his direction. playful banter was regular between you two; you fed off of each other’s energy. suguru seemed to be the mediator.

an observer, with eyes particularly always lingering on one certain person.

•••

spring has flowers blossoming again, and you feel inclined to stay out for as long as possible. the confinements of your dorm feels like an obstacle, and it’d be a waste to miss out on the beauty that winter’s absence welcomed.

it’s perfect weather.

the cursed weapon in your hand had begun to feel rather light, your arm adapting to the overpowering weight. you disliked close-range combat, but you were being sent on tougher missions now, so there was no room for complaints. your abilities needed to strengthen.

and it’s frustrating, really. to have to constantly forgo complete confidence and figure out where you’re weakest; you could easily make a list with areas of needed improvement. a lot of your classmates seemed to lack that issue. you suppose what’s worse is that you’re completely aware it wasn’t a competition - but you had convinced yourself that at the least, you needed to stay on their level.

even if that meant working ten times harder, even if that meant exerting yourself past a reasonable amount.

but this routine has gotten you this far, and, sincerely, it hadn’t been too much of a problem to keep up with.

in fact, you could probably do a little more.

“you shouldn’t train so much, you’ll strain yourself.”

your stance falters, though you easily recover within the same second. maybe a little too late, but you tried not to be nit-picky. he was naturally quiet.

“i gotta keep up with everyone somehow.” you quickly grin, trying to calm the visible pants of your labored breathing. it’s futile, and you momentarily turn away, as if embarrassed to look anything but perfectly composed. to look less than him - or anyone, really.

your back is towards him.

suguru can read you perfectly. it’s with ease that’s almost completely overbearing, and some part of him believes that he’s only been put on earth to watch out for you. like it knows that you aren’t the kindest when it comes to yourself.

it’s so natural that he supposes it might be his true purpose.

you only hear him hum from behind you, and suddenly there’s a weight pushing down on your raised weapon, ushering it towards the floor. gentle fingers graze against yours, and you let him grab it from you, albeit with some hesitation. he places it on the floor.

“let’s take a break, yeah?”

he doesn’t even need to coerce you, you’d follow him blindly if he asked. you always do.

and he’s leading you, knowing you’re behind him without having the urge to look back and check. exhaustion lingers, but you’re too entranced by him to focus on the sore ache of your limbs. he’s graceful as he walks.

“we trained this morning.”

you freeze momentarily, looking off to the side with a shrug. it’s not that he sounds hostile - it’s just a bit more monotone than normal. “practice makes perfect.”

suguru makes a noise of acknowledgment, but it sounds a bit absentminded and dull, lacking any understanding. like a huff of annoyance.

“right.”

he shouldn’t be this bitter, this cold, when speaking to you. it’s rough against his tongue, and his entire body, mind and all, is actively telling him to stop. emotions are ugly things, though. it makes people less rational; less aware - say things they may regret.

suguru slows his steps, up until you’re beside him, where you should be. and by a glance at you, he knows he’s gotten too uncharacteristically rigid. you’re looking at him, confusion clouding your head. concern, actually. he sees it now.

“did i do something wrong?”

the meekness in your voice, haunted with worry, clears his senses in a millisecond. his eyes widen. panicked, he feverishly shakes his head.

“no — no. of course not.”

he sees you relax a bit, but you’re still looking questionably at him. your head tilts. “then?”

suguru sighs, swallowing thickly as he stops walking. it’s an enchanting sight, grassy fields just a little off main campus. you see a few flowers.

you follow after him as he sits, greenery cushioning your bodies as you settle. suguru picks at the weeds, his eyes on the floor. he speaks quiet, voice among the gentle breeze as his hair flows in waves. you have the urge to remove his hair-tie and see it fully.

“i just worry about you.”

you don’t even attempt to hide the slight flustered smile that finds itself on your face, body feeling overwhelmingly warm. he’s avoiding eye contact for once. l

it’d be a lie if you claimed you didn’t notice the tension - the smiles, the laughs, the soft-spoken volume of his pure voice. so silky smooth it’d rid you of all your worries in a second. but there’s something so alluring about never saying it out loud. like it’s your little secret the two of you can keep, because adoration itself is something so beautiful it needed to be dragged out for as long as possible. you’ve grown to be a little impatient, though.

you nudge him teasingly.

“don’t. i’m right here.”

and it’s true; suguru sees it as a privilege. to be around your presence, to just talk to you — he worships the ground you walk on, and he’s not sure how to tell you that might be the reason why he worries so much.

instead, he chuckles, head bowing momentarily.

“i wish it were that easy.”

you bring your knees to your chest, giggling lightly.

he’s cute.

undeniably.

“it is.” you urge, dragging out the last syllable as you sway towards him. he meets your eyes. “just trust me like i trust you.”

suguru thinks that you’re sometimes oblivious to the weight of your words. they can be so intimate, and you’ll deliver them like any other sentence. as if you hadn’t just made his stomach churn, and his heart beat a little faster. he trusts you more than a healthy amount. he’d trust you with his life, his future — he’d leave everything in the palms of your hands.

“i do.” he replies, reassuringly. it’s earnest, and you smile. suguru bites the inside of his cheek, and closes his eyes. “it’s everything else that scares me.”

and there’s really nothing you can really do to help that fear, because you know it’s completely reasonable and realistic. tomorrow is never promised, especially with the hectic lives you live. you want to tell him that you have similar thoughts when he and satoru are out for days at a time, no return window strictly placed. that it has you pacing back and forth until their arrival, and even then you downplay your relief. but that’s a little embarrassing to say when he’s listening so intently, so you keep quiet.

you turn to him, shrugging with a smile you pray looks more optimistic than sorrowful.

“we can only ever hope for the best.”

a little hollow, less declarative than preferred, but it works the same. suguru nods in silent agreement.

suguru used to think that exceptional beasts like you and him could not fall in love — that it was the secret of ordinary people. for beings, who can alter the world, were special in indescribable ways. but he’s grown to be more open-minded, more accepting.

because what else could he do? you were so irresistible that it ceased the existence of his birth-given psychology. his mind, altered just for you.

“you know… you don’t have to prove yourself of anything.”

this time, it’s suguru who nudges you. he leans in, and you feel his hair brush against your arm. it tickles, but you don’t flinch. your body naturally welcomes the proximity, tingles and goosebumps etching across your skin. you squint, waiting for him to elaborate. and he does, with one validating sentence that kinda erases the possibility of self-doubt. just for a bit.

“i think you’re strong.”

he’d move stars for you, talk to the moon if it meant you got to keep the shimmer in your pretty eyes. and he’d ask the sun to stay out longer so he could continue seeing your rosy cheeks.

he’d gladly live for infinity if he could be the reason you get flustered forever.

you’re very pretty like this.

his eyes are watchful, observant as you scoff bashfully, avoiding him. and you quietly respond, with that same soothing voice. he thinks it could be a lullaby.

“i think you’re strong too.”

suguru smiles, nodding and all-knowing. he pokes you playfully.

“i know.”

you’d complain, but his tone lacks any arrogance. just a statement, enough said. because he knows how you think, how you observe.

and while you don’t say it out loud, your eyes are telling him ‘thank you.’

how beautiful the act of reading an expression is. of knowing a person so easily it’s like clockwork, unraveling intricate details to form a conscious understanding.

he watches your eyes narrow, and awaits a question he knows is on the tip of your tongue. your face looks a certain way during contemplation.

“you like doing this stuff?” you ask, tilting your head. “being a sorcerer, i mean.”

as if the two of you had other options. you didn’t.

but there’s something comforting about answering known questions. speaking the obvious into existence, letting the information linger in the air.

“i like it.” suguru replies, smiling. “if you get rid of the bad stuff.”

his voice gets quieter at the end, but you save him the questioning glance and smile back.

you hum, nodding. “like what?”

and you can name a million bad things. every day is a reminder of them. the two of you have that in common. but thankfully, the world has been kind enough to not let you experience them. your optimism hadn’t been tainted.

and as you expressed to him — you try not to dwell over the ticking clock, only ever hoping for the best.

suguru’s hands are behind him, propping himself up as he gazes at sheer, distant clouds. the sky is a pretty mix of yellow, orange, and red. evening approaches.

“well, all that self-sacrificing stuff for the betterment of mankind — for starters.” he sighs, head leaning back. you wonder if you imagine the way the slight slivers of sun sparkle against his skin, and how angelic his aura seems in that very moment.

you scoot a little closer, gaze matching his as you look upwards.

“we’re helping so many people, though.” you reply, glancing at him for a second. his eyes are closed, like a cat basking in the warmth of the light. you want to kiss his cheek.

“we are.”

“i think it’s cool.”

“it is cool.” he affirms, nodding. one eye opens, and he shamelessly stares as you obliviously observe the world. suguru is suddenly grateful that this view is currently only reserved for him, as he’s sure anyone would fall in love with you in this exact moment. yet, at the least, he wants you to see yourself in his neutral vision.

but butterflies cannot see their own beautiful wings, so he’ll gladly worship you quietly.

he looks at your hand on the grass, right beside his. it’s contemplation that’s been built up for months, thoughts of you invading all his senses. suguru figures that if he had a flower for every time he’s thought of you, he could walk through a garden forever. he inches his fingers closer.

and pauses when they’re less than a centimeter away, pulling back as you break the silence.

“i mean, i’d die for you guys too.”

suguru tenses, and you grow nervously quiet from the sight of his surprised expression, feeling suddenly embarrassed. an awkward laugh leaves your lips in an attempt to ease the gloom of your words, and you mindlessly wave your hand. “if it came down to it, y’know.”

you would in a heartbeat. you’d do it a thousand times over if you could, but you don’t tell him that. that proclamation is reserved for only you.

and as suguru looks over at you, stares, he doesn’t think he’ll ever despise an idea more than he does now. it’s blazing, the thought horrendous.

“don’t say stuff like that.” he demands, shaking his head brazenly. you can feel his eyes still on you, and he’s lost his smile. “don’t ever.”

all the defense, the stoicism, stemming from the thought that — yes. he 100% believed you would die for anyone. and that terrified him more than anything.

suguru isn’t sure how to communicate his thoughts in a softer way. he doesn’t mean for his demeanor to grow so cold again, but it bothers him - makes him sick - that you can say things like that so easily.

“i didn’t — i’m sorry.” you stutter, eyes wide. you swallow thickly, “sorry.”

and again, it’s hard to be upset with you.

but this, he can be against. he needs to be.

“you can’t think like that.” suguru speaks, softer this time. it’s pleading, as if he’s begging for a bit of mercy. and he is. “please.”

he wants to tell you that it’s okay to be selfish, to prioritize yourself first. but it would seem a bit hypocritical coming from him, because he knows he’d throw everything away in a whim if it meant keeping you safe.

love blinds him, he supposes.

“okay.” you nod, eyes on the floor. “i won’t.”

you’re considerate enough to lie, despite knowing full well that your words don’t align with your mind whatsoever. and you think suguru knows that.

he’s staring. you can feel it, eyes as intense as a midnight sky. you feel a little afraid to look up and meet them.

but it’s only instinct when he speaks your name softly, a coaxing whisper among suffocating tension.

you think he looks ethereal when being clouded with concern. godly, towering upon you. the magnitude of his gaze truly shows with the lack of distance. you register the feeling of his hand on yours before anything else, the touch searing from pure shock. a large palm covers your skin.

“… i’m sorry. i just care about you a lot.”

worry is care. it’s one of the greatest devotions — the act of panic for another person.

suguru thinks that romance may actually be the most horrific thing in life. that it’s not curses, but love. it’s the deepest weakness.

“you kill me when you get injured — when you speak like that.” he mutters, and the two of you don’t say a thing as his hand inches higher.

it feels a little harder to breathe.

“can’t promise i’ll stop.” you reply, a pitying smile finding it’s way on your face as you watch him close his eyes briefly.

“i know.”

suguru feels a little like a broken record player, doomed to repeat the same phrases like it’s clockwork.

it’s futile, you’re mutually aware.

he can’t control you, he’s unable to dictate what decisions you make — no matter how stupid, or how horrid they are to him. but he can’t bring himself to stop trying. maybe, if you’re reminded your value, you’ll eventually think the same.

but, honestly, the way you’re looking at him right now could make him believe anything.

“did you find out who’s joining you tomorrow on your mission?”

the corner of your mouth quirks upwards, and he knows your answer before you say it out loud. he grins.

your other hand places itself on top of his, and you smile back. heart giddy, but you try your best to keep your composure.

“i pulled a few strings.”

•••

december, 2015.

you wonder if growing up not only changes your body, but your soul.

because it takes a long time to realize how truly miserable you are, and even longer to see that it doesn’t have to be that way.

it’d be kinda hard to feel your unhappiness now, regardless.

“i prefer if you keep them outside, megs.” you wince, eyeing the dirt-covered paw prints on the hardwood floor.

the two perpetrators stand on either side of their summoner.

flushed and clearly embarrassed, megumi curtly nods. his hair moves the slightest with the movement, and he turns his head away from you, kicking his foot back and forth. “sorry, i wasn’t thinking.”

the dogs leave your eyesight quickly after. you snort, playfully rolling your eyes at him, walking over to ruffle the dark spikes on his head.

“it’s okay, don’t worry about it.” you smile, silently pleased when he doesn’t move away from the ministration. he’s always been more lenient with you, a fact you hold high over a certain white-haired sorcerer. “plus, i’ll just make satoru clean it up.”

if you had blinked, you might had missed the way megumi’s mouth quirks up, satisfaction clear as day. it makes you giggle, up until you finally inspect him closer. your eyes linger on the dirt covering the side of his white shirt, and you softly sigh, pursing your lips.

“how was the curse?” you ask, nudging him a little where the stains are most prominent. “roughed you up a bit, huh?”

megumi’s introduction to jujustu wasn’t entirely seamless, but he was definitely a natural. an anomaly, like satoru. born with talent.

you watch as his face turns sour, and his eyes suddenly narrow, the stoic expression more familiar. he avoids your gaze and looks at the door expectantly, mumbling something under his breath.

“what?” you reply, brows furrowing as you lean a little closer in hopes he’ll repeat himself. megumi’s mouth opens again, and he’s about to, but an obnoxious ‘i’m backkkk!’ interrupts him.

you share an unimpressed look with the younger boy.

satoru strides inside, whistling with a grin. you’ve spent too much time with him, years ticking off your lifespan from both the annoyance and contentment that he simultaneously brings into the world. he and megumi had left early in the morning, and it was around midday now — too long with him, as you can clearly pinpoint on latter’s face.

satoru’s hands are in his pockets, and he shuts the door with his shoulder, leaning back against it.

“missed us?” he smiles, and he walks over to throw an arm around megumi, which is immediately thrown off. satoru glares momentarily, but quickly looks back up at you, clearing his throat. “missed me?”

you stare, sighing softly before gently tugging megumi towards you.

“i missed megumi.” you correct, crossing your arms. your head motions to him, “and why does it look like he got pushed on the floor? i thought you said-“

“it was a grade three!” satoru immediately exclaims, and points to the boy beside you in accusation. “he told me not to get involved.”

despite his adult frame, satoru never really outgrew his childishness, still quick to blame anyone other than himself. his defensiveness was mildly irritating, but you've come to grow used to it. your head shakes disapprovingly, and you huff. “he’s thirteen, you idiot.”

satoru’s smile turns a little mischievous as megumi looks at you quizzically, a frown on his face. “so?”

you rub your head in annoyance, ignoring satoru’s ‘oooo,’ and gently flick megumi on the forehead. “you’re not an official student yet. dealing with curses by yourself can wait. for now, you fight with satoru.”

satoru dramatically sighs, and much to your dismay, approaches you. his arm infamously wraps itself around your frame, body leaning towards you, and it feels like the weight of an elephant, crushing you as you stumble. he doesn’t let up. “you worry too much. and he exorcised it! maybe with a little less ease than expected, but-“

he grunts when a hand collides with his side, and you’re too busy pushing him off to see the way he sticks his tongue out at megumi.

maybe your concerns were a little irrational, but your heart was in the right place. megumi was still young, still enrolled in a normal middle school — albeit, close to his last year — and you had originally planned to keep him completely innocent for just a while longer. no world of killing, curses, and whatnot. but satoru had pushed him into it within the first few months of his complicated adoption, and you secretly knew that there was nothing you could do to completely shield that side of the ugly world for him.

so, you suppose the least you could do was teach him how to protect himself. in case you or satoru couldn’t.

“well,” you sigh, defeatedly. there’s a lopsided smile on your face, and you expectantly look to megumi. “how was it, then?”

there’s a boyish smile, a little shy, that appears on his face. “cool.”

“see!” satoru grins, arms raising in victory. “he loved it, and he should probably do it more often-“

“fine, fine.”

it’s always been pretty futile to argue with satoru. not only is he stubborn, but painstakingly arrogant. he tends to think his ideas are always the best, simply because they’re made in his very head. and you can’t discredit them, because normally, they’re alright. but it can be frustrating. he’s also really hard to deny.

it’s only natural to give in. just so you can avoid drawing it out.

“awesome! i think he’s ready for a special grade!” satoru claps his hands, and you deadpan, rolling your eyes.

“don’t kill my kid.” you mutter, shaking your head as you turn, ignoring the way satoru’s smile settles into something a little more genuine. heartfelt, maybe.

truth be told, you’d trust satoru with everything and more. you worry and fret, but at the end of the day, he’ll still be there. he’s been stuck to you like glue for years now, and it didn’t help that you practically live under the same roof. different rooms, but realistically having no actual space. it’s nice, and you really do hold him in your heart deeply. at an arm’s length.

you end up being stuck with cooking dinner yet again — satoru winning because otherwise he’d ’poison the kids’ (which, you think is stupid because he could easily just follow a recipe. also, he’s used that excuse before.) — and it’s like clockwork, a routine, when you find yourself sat across from him on the couch afterwards, tsumiki and megumi long gone in their respective rooms.

you’ve found that gojo satoru acts a bit differently when it’s just the two of you. less irritable, and easier to talk to; you’ve noticed this since you met him. his voice gets quieter, the blindfold comes off, his hair falls, and you’re presented with a more raw version. and maybe the kids get a different version too, but you find that hard to believe when megumi’s distaste is so palpably strong.

“movie?” satoru asks, peeking at you through narrow eyes. his face is a little smushed by his palm as he leans against the armrest, and there’s a lazy smile on his face. he looks kinda tired, weirdly enough. exhaustion is so foreign on his face that it looks almost fake. you wonder how much he slept last night, spotting hints of darkness beneath the pretty blue of his vision.

you think it’s strange that you don’t get sick of his presence, even after all this time. that’s it’s forever missed more than loathed. you’re always in such close proximity, practically doing everything together, and yet you find that crave him every second he’s not beside you. pitifully, it might just be the attachment issues you’ve subconsciously formed, and have unfortunately plagued satoru with. but that reason just seems a little too sad for you to fully admit. everything realistic is somehow bitter. you softly sigh, momentarily closing your eyes.

you’d love to stay, just to hear his idiotic rambles and comments. they always brought more substance than the film itself. and he’s been gone all day. you rub your forehead, feeling a small inkling of guilt.

“i have a mission later.” you reply, apologetically, and smile sincerely. “but when i come back, yes.”

an active report coming from a town over — information on paper only describing the energy as ‘ominous.’

“oh,” satoru’s eyes widen, and though you’re unable to read the exact emotion on his face, he seems a little alarmed. nearly wincing. he’s kinda upset that you didn’t tell him sooner, that being visibly clear — but then again, did you really have an obligation to? he didn’t really tell you whenever he had missions. but that was because he’d return in a few quick hours every time. satoru didn’t like being gone for too long either. he never dragged out his departures; he hated to leave you by yourself, even if the kids were with you. it feels a little cruel. you watch his eyes dart towards the windows, and he shifts, facing you. the movement is a little awkward, and he pauses before his speaks, hesitant with his words. “want me to go with you? it’s kind of late.”

it’s sweet that he asks.

“satoru,” you chuckle, tilting your head. “it’s a couple of second grades. i’ll be fine.”

a little white lie, but you craved some action. satoru always got stuck with the interesting missions, and even then they posed no such threat to him. all of your assignments were simple, too easy to be considered enjoyable. if this was going to be the route you were taking in life, — exorcising curses — then you could at least make it somewhat fun.

satoru can tell something’s off. you’re too dismissive, and you won’t look at him directly. but he feels as though it’s not his place to scold you, and he trusts you dearly, so he ignores his gut.

“alright.” he shrugs, his arms moving behind his head as they nonchalantly cross, contrasting the way he feels a little unusual. “call me if you need anything.”

•••

december brings cold winter air, and you blow into your palms, attempting to warm the skin that’s begun to grow a little numb.

more people should go on nightly walks, you think. maybe then it’d be more calming. every street you’ve turned to is nearly empty, the only comfort being provided by dim overhead lights. but you suppose you’ve gone through more fearsome events, so this shouldn’t really be that big of a deal.

it’s a little frustrating to be walking around so aimlessly. the report gave no specific location, just the brief mention of a couple of previous sightings. by now, they’d more-than-likely dispersed to other areas.

you’re slightly tempted to call satoru for some help, as you’ve never been the best at detecting curses at a long-range, but you refrain.

it was late, and you know he’d probably never let you live it down.

satoru would never say ‘no’ to you. but there comes a price with that reliability and expectancy. small instances, like when you caught a cold, and had asked him to order for you at a coffee shop because your voice had been to sore to do so. he complied, but not without a relentless amount of teasing, even going to far as to lie to the barista, saying ‘sorry, she’s just really shy.’ he lived for your embarrassment, and it was generally harmless, so you couldn't reprimand him for it.

but sometimes every time, he’d have his own small apology. like how right after you had returned home, there was soup coincidentally ordered on your front porch.

satoru had walked inside without looking at you.

he can be tolerable. rarely.

you're nearly persuaded to go back home, midnight beginning to take a toll on your tired eyes. as far as you were aware, the curses hadn't caused harmful havoc. but it'd be pretty humiliating to head back without a small victory, and even then you'd probably stay up feeling guilty.

unintelligible whispers break you out of your thoughts, and you blink, eyes scanning the area.

goosebumps arise, and your head turns.

finally.

you nearly jump when you see it, though keep your composure, standing straighter.

it’s hardly detectable, as it stands. fairly large too. it might actually be a second grade.

you huff, brows furrowing as you inspect the curse. this was the cause of the ‘ominous’ energy? you feel it, but it’s looks don’t work well with it’s written description. maybe you’d be heading home sooner than you expected.

your hand reaches behind you to grab your weapon, and you move forward, testing to see how fast it’s reflexes are.

it doesn’t move.

you pause, rolling your eyes briefly.

“at least put up a fight, dude.” you mumble, nearly sighing as it continues to plainly watch you. you walk a little closer, up until you’re only a few feet away, and hum. “you’re not the brightest…”

you insert your weapon back into it’s sheath, and stare. it’s been a while since you’ve had the chance to see a curse so closely. they’re all usually extremely reactive, not sparing you a second before attacking. violence is their prime instinct; the main thought in their heads.

when you reach your hand to poke it, and it still doesn’t budge, you know something is wrong.

oh.

your entire body stills, and you’re certain that you feel your stomach drop to the floor.

something felt familiar.

confirming your terrible suspicions, the curse disappears in front of your very eyes. not exorcised. you’re staring at the empty space that it once occupied, too bothered by the fact that your heartbeat has picked up ten times faster.

you almost reach for your phone, but stop, feeling as though it wouldn't be the wisest decision.

this suddenly all feels a little too calculated. you don’t even attempt to grab your weapon again.

shock numbs your bones. it bleeds through and renders you useless.

you hear your name before you see him, and you figure it feels the same as the nearly-fatal slash toji had given you almost a decade ago. so painful that it makes your heart stop. it’s spoken with such intimate fondness — too much for your poor heart to comprehend.

his ubiquity is so daunting that you’re sure all time ceases to exist.

you don’t want to turn around. you want to run, flee before you know it’s too late. before you hear him speak, and the world comes crashing down all over again. you’ve tried so hard to piece it back together. every tiny detail - you’re not sure if you’d be able to start over. why now? when you’ve finally been better. when you finally believed that normality was even possible to achieve.

but you’ve always naturally given into him, and that habit stays strong even after all these years. you think he knows that too.

it’s with upmost hesitance that you turn around.

you’re not sure what to do.

he’s a sight for sore eyes. healing, beautifully transparent. a dear smile, inviting you closer. or more like a predator awaiting it’s prey. your body is giving you every negative cue, yet your legs stay in place, submissive to his presence that’s been so horrendously missed.

he a little looks older. or maybe that’s just the unfamiliar sight of all his hair down.

“hi.”

a part of you thinks that if you ignore him for long enough, he might disappear. leave you alone, as he’s chosen to do before. he’s lost the right to be welcomed.

fury is really the only emotion you could accurately pinpoint. you hate how soft he speaks. you hate it more than anything.

if you could stomach it, you’d ask him to close his eyes and turn the other direction. you’ve always been weak when he looks at you so intently, as if studying you to the finest detail. but you refuse to be the one to look away first - you selfishly crave his attention more than you value your own self-respect.

and as suguru looks at you, he thinks you’ve made it impossibly more difficult to do anything but beg for undeserving forgiveness. he’s staring at reflective streams, seeing as they slowly trail down your face. it must feel nice to be falling tears, symbolic of raindrops returning to the ocean. he’d like to sit in front of the ocean again. with you, being careless teenagers just for a little longer. but the ocean brings back bitter memories and the thoughts of a certain brunette child, so he refrains from thinking further.

“… don’t cry.”

it’s not a command of any sort, but instead a quiet plea. you’re too pretty for tears. too pretty for pain, too pretty for this unfair life he’s plagued you with.

he watches your eyes visibly widen, and your hand raises quickly, using your sleeve to wipe remnants of your intense emotions. it stains your skin a bit red from how roughly you move, lashes dismally coated with the aftermath.

“i’m not—“ and you huff, your throat feeling tight. your head bows by instinct, and you shake it firmly. you press your palms to your eyes for a few seconds, pushing harshly, as if the pressure could ease some of the shock, or ground you in any way. “i’m not fucking crying.”

cautiously, suguru nods. he’ll play into you, listen to everything you say even if it’s not entirely truthful. anything to make his appearance less daunting and harmful. he waits for you to speak, knowing the sound of his voice may not be as pleasant as he had hoped. he’s not sure what he was expecting.

battered already, in so much internal sorrow you might collapse, you breathe as deeply as you are able to. it shakes, and you opt to biting your lip instead.

harrowing disbelief is tainting your skin and bones, and it feels hopeless to even try understanding why he’s here. waltzing right back into your life, bewitchingly present. words linger, staying on the tip of your tongue as you internally battle yourself to release them. release you.

the air smells like rain. and you think — all this anger, it was once was love.

“i hate you.”

and there’s a frown on your lips, trembling as you try to muster up all of the loathe, resentment, and frustration into those three words.

it fails. because the admission is not of truth — if anything, it’s guilt. for the sole reason that you know your feelings stand the exact opposite.

you hate suguru for leaving you. not him as a person; him as a thought. a thought that consistently runs rampant through your mind, adding fuel to a prevalent fire that refuses to be extinguished. and you imagine that he likes that he still has that effect on you, because the hauntingly serene smile he holds doesn’t even falter, not for a second.

you’re forced to stare at him with that expression, and it feels wickedly taunting. not as comforting as it had before.

“that’s alright.”

it’s all he puts out into the air, and that gentle tone he holds kinda makes you want to hit him. he’s not like satoru — you’re sure he’d let you. but suguru can sense your agonizing heartbreak. he’d sense everything about you with his eyes closed. and he feels guilty for making you reopen old wounds, but he’s unaware that they’ve never been given a chance to properly heal.

geto suguru sees a little bit of you in everything lovely. the sun shining in the morning, the smiles on two pretty little girl’s faces, the moon casting a dim halo over the world at night.

you’ve only become a greater treasure. one to be cherished, to be adored. he’s missed you in his sight more than anything. you’re still a angel on earth, incredulously beautiful. even with tears, even with that despaired look on your face. he’s fighting every urge in his body to not step closer and mend your broken self.

he’d like to run his fingers over your soul and pour his love into each crack he finds.

“give me a few minutes. that’s all i need.”

he’d prefer an eternity. but he thinks that he’s asked for something reasonable.

it’s expected when you scoff, glaring daggers with blurry vision. but it doesn’t make it any less painful.

suguru can take it. he deserves it.

“please.”

the distaste on your face refuses to falter.

you crave to love without it having consequences.

since when had caring become so much of a burden? it’s evil, honestly. maybe stone-cold was the way to go. nanami might be on to something.

“stop this, suguru.” you whisper, hand sliding down your face in frustration as you let out a bitter sigh that lacks any amusement. “leave me alone.”

he savors the way his name sounds on your tongue, the drawn-our syllables holding the same familiar care of nearly a decade ago. it feels longer, too much time spent away from you. it lightens his aura, makes his senses heightened in almost a feral way. you speak of him like fate.

old habits refuse to die, and he stays where he is, the same face of persuasion used as he outwardly refuses your answer.

“kill me, then.” he shrugs, and he thinks he might actually die from the way your frown falters into shock once again. his smile twitches, nearly threatening to downcast.

it should be what you do.

suguru was a dead man. that fact hadn’t slipped your mind. you remember when satoru saw him, in the flesh, after the sentence. he couldn’t bring himself to kill him then, and you could briefly recall the look on his face when you softly told him you could eventually do it if he wasn’t able to. that solemn twinge, knowing something you wouldn’t admit out loud.

because satoru knew, better than anyone around, that if you went through with it, it would break you past the point of repair.

suguru, seemingly satisfied with your stillness, steps a bit closer.

it kinda feels like doom. you think the world may stop for a moment, and that all the bad things in life will come and finish you off. that death will take your hand, guiding you, kinder than anything that’s ever really touched it. because what it’s held before has cursed it.

when his hands reach up, you expect a knife in the throat — any consequence for the stupidity of your compliance. but the blades are soft, and they raise to hold your face. gently, as if earning the trust of a stray kitten. because they’re not blades, they’re his hands. he feels you shaking against them. and it’s odd that all tranquility really needs is a certain sight; reassurance in the form of a graceful being who has been absent for too long. you don’t move. you’re unable to. instead, you stare, taking in a lost future. hair you used to brush yourself, eyes that would watch you with such visible adoration. they still do, and that realization alone has your head hurting.

you feel his thumb wipe below your eye, and it feels cold over your heated skin. suguru sighs, his eyebrows furrowing ever-so-slightly.

“you’re very beautiful.”

it’s spoken almost hopelessly, as if the admission physically hurts for him to say. in a way, it does. he’s let go of one of the last devotions to you that he’s kept bottled inside of him, because he knows this might be the last time he sees you. he has to let everything go. you need to know what he thinks of you, how important you are. how he’s submitted his soul to the disaster of loving you since you were teenagers.

by the way his eyes narrow, and his pupils grow just a tiny bit bigger, your eyes widen, and you’re pushing him away instantly.

you know what comes next. you’re able to predict it before it’s able to horrifically conjure itself out loud.

“no, suguru.”

he follows after you, a firm yet gentle hold on your forearms stopping you from completely leaving. you’re already shaking your head, biting your lip as it threatens to quiver. he’s trapping you, and he knows he’s already won.

“let me.” he coos, rubbing the skin of your trembling limbs. and you try to convince yourself that you shouldn’t sympathize, or fall for that sweet, missed voice of his. how he’s just a stranger you unfortunately know everything about. to ignore gentle aura you’ve missed so much that you felt as though you’ve never been able to get a grip on the pain in your chest. “let me say it.”

you’re not built for this, not capable enough to take another harrowing blow.

“leave — fucking, leave.” you seethe, frantically attempting to pull your arms back, though his hold has gotten stronger, and the fight that you have left in you is quickly diminishing by the second. there’s a moment — the tiniest sliver of time — where you stumble, and you’re being pushed closer to him before you can blink.

“you don’t want me to.” suguru shakes his head, eyeing you carefully as you stop your movements. it’s declarative.

you’d like to slap him. knock some common sense into his head because, obviously. you never wanted him to. not when you were sixteen, not now, not ever.

it’s just defense. because you cruelly know that letting him in will just make everything worse. walls were needed for protection, even if the doors are halfway open.

his hands find themselves cradling your face once more, and he’s pulling you, a small gap being the only distance left between a terrible decision. you’re subconsciously following, body keen on obeying his every move. his gaze feels a little intrusive, looking so intently you have the urge to turn your head and close your eyes. your breath is shaky, and you feel a little light-headed.

you wonder if anyone else in the world has ever loved someone this terribly.

hastily, your hands place themselves on his chest with an attempt to push him away, but they stay pliant. you look at him, incredulously.

“what is wrong with you?”

it’s clear when his expression darkens a little, and he dejectedly looks to the side. you catch his eyes widening a bit, the harshness of your tone foreign, because you’ve only ever spoken to him with such tender care. you’re spewing out words with cracks in your voice, nearly whispering because you’re afraid that if you speak any louder, it’ll truly start a storm.

“you… you kill people, leave me — leave everyone — and then…” your eyes close, and you feel the liquid trailing down your cheeks again before you’re able to stop it. you can’t finish your sentence, too busy holding your breath to calm a threatening sob.

it feels like you’re sixteen again, and everything is crumbling.

his arms move slowly as they wrap themselves around you, and you feel even more inclined to cry when he presses your head against his chest. like he’s done dozens of times before. he sucks, the world sucks. this comfort is long overdue, and you still can’t find it in yourself to complain, simply succumbing to the pressure of his presence. you’d like to hug your younger self. because she needed this, even if it can’t really count as closure. even if you currently felt your knees buckling from beneath you.

“i wish i could take away the pain, pretty girl.”

suguru won’t give you false apologies. he only feels guilt for causing you harm. he dislikes how pain looks on your face, and he wants to tell you that he’s unable to sleep at night without you, that every day is a challenge. that truthfully, the ache is mutual. but he has something to accomplish, and you stand on opposing sides.

the two of you are stubborn people.

“take it,” you tremble, and your arms are already around him, despite the screams in your mind. he feels safe. he feels like everything and more. “please, please, take it.”

the pleading in your voice makes suguru feel horribly ill, and he tightens his grip on you, not really knowing what else to do.

it’s worse when you’re the perpetrator. the criminal, the evil. he wonders what your life might have looked like without him in it — how happy you could have been. should’ve been.

but there’s been bad things — events that he’s sure might had ended horrifically differently without his existence.

he wonders how your scar looks, now.

suguru’s fingers are firm as they reach below your chin, and he forces your eyes to meet once more. they’re red and glossy, but still undeniably captivating. he’d like to look at them forever.

“i would, if it were that easy. i promise you.”

you believe him. it could be from the genuine strain in his voice, or your muddled brain that’s clawing to escape your own head. what good is a healthy mind?

he’s saying your name again, and it’s quieter this time. more intimate. you don’t cower, you stay, even huddling the tiniest bit closer. you’ve given up on composure, you’ll let him selfishly have you. besides, it feels nice when he’s treating you so delicately. hands ghosting over your cheeks, eyes that admire your desperate, sad ones. you don’t stop him this time, numbly prepared for the aftermath.

he pauses, trailing his thumb over your jaw, and swallowing thickly. he’s never quite looked normal. always too perfect in comparison to everything else. he smiles, and you see a hint of something that you can’t really classify as full joy.

“i love you.”

the world doesn’t end.

you’re still looking at him, thinking that it will for a moment. instead, you see bashful pink.

‘i love you’ is such a tricky sentence. it’s powerful, meaningful, and could also be a lie. the power of speech is that there really are no limits, and you suppose that’s what makes bad people. sometimes.

he toys with the collar of your shirt, briefly, and lets out a breath of amusement through his nose. suguru feels lighter. and simultaneously horrible. he tilts his head, barely, his voice quiet.

“will you let me kiss you? even if you hate me?”

there’s a little teasing in that sentence, and he nudges his nose across the side of your face affectionately. you’re unaware of how hard his heart beats against his chest as soon as he asks.

you’re sixteen once more, and you’re silently nodding before you’re able to think further.

you’re imagining fairytales you can’t believe in.

it’s hard to determine how long you’ve thought about it. his lips on yours. your hands are in his hair and on his face nearly immediately. you’d trade a lot of things to be this close for longer — you wish to be combined. and he’s soft. he’s so soft you dread taking your hands off of him. if heaven was a place on earth, it’d be this.

pitiful.

he tastes sweet, like a forgotten dream. butterflies suffocate your insides as you stand, and your knees feel a little weaker. suguru is a bit impatient with his movements, hands trailing down your sides to squeeze and caress. his touch feels hot and is hastily done, but gentle nonetheless. you feel his lips curl up against yours, and your stomach flips.

you rather not pull away. pulling away brings back reality, and fantasy is really all you want. if you kiss him a bit harder, and close your eyes a little longer, you’re able to stay.

he pulls back first.

you’re breathing heavy, eyes wide as they bore into his. he might be the most precious thing in your life, and you’re not sure if you’re able to let him go. you’re afraid that you’ll love him forever, and that you’ll never be in the same place again. this feels cruelly temporary, and you know it is. by the way his expression settles, and the way he repeats those three words so quietly, it’s meant for only you to hear. a fact.

“i love you.”

you swallow thickly, in a haze that’s caused just by his very being. a drug-like addiction, and you feel so content it’s like you’re home.

suguru knows you won’t say it back. and in all honesty, he prefers it that way. it’s what’s best. what matters most is that he knows you mean to. he’s able to read that lovestruck wonder on your face so easily it makes him warm. it was both a relief and horror to be known so perfectly. you, who still wears your heart on your sleeve. he’s forever grateful that you’ve always been so giving, so selfless when it comes to him. he feels as though he abuses your sweet compassion.

you tug on his sleeve.

“we can work something out.” you whisper against him, and suguru knows he’s gone too far. he’s tensing, and his eyes are anxious, a small shake of his head contrasting your nods. “i’m yours. i’m yours before anything else.”

heart, mind, body, soul. you’re bonded for life, and you’ve known that since you were young.

“oh, no, baby.” suguru hurriedly answers, and the desperation in your voice, the way you clutch on to him a little tighter, has his head reeling. he’s panicking. “you’re better where you are, sweet girl.”

you know his mind is made up, that it’s fruitless to try, but you’re so blinded by desires that you don’t even care that you’re begging him. he’s mean, doing this to you. there is no ultimatum or other decision - this is it. you’re just destined to be separate, and that hurts to realize, so you’re glad he’s cushioning the blow. just enough for you to keep standing.

suguru is complicated. he hates that he is, he hates what his life has brought him (the only exception being the beauty of the people in his past; you included), but he’s certain that you’re safer as it is. golden and pure. with satoru, with shoko. and you’re strong. you’re so strong he can’t put it into words.

maybe he had some reasonable motives — riko’s death, yours and satoru’s near deaths, haibara’s death — but they’ve shaped him. shaped you, more, as it seems. you continue your life, even after it’s been tainted red, and blackened with misery. satoru, the same. you can take a bit more. you’ve gone through the worst of it. at least — it’s what he selfishly tells himself.

it was stupid to come see you. kiss you, at that. but he can’t bring himself to regret even slightly. if he’s considered evil, barbaric, he’ll gladly take the titles if it meant spending more moments with you. it’s cruel, not malicious.

you’re still his person. but he can’t have you fully — at least, not in this lifetime.

suguru isn’t really sure he could pass on the torch so easily. to give you up completely — the most ultimate sacrifice. where there would be a possibility of his replacement, and the loss of his heart. he can’t trust anyone with loving you; no one can really love you like he does. he’ll take pride in that.

“you’re going to live a long, happy life.” suguru quietly assures, nudging his nose against yours. your eyes are tightly shut, overall avoidant. this might be a nightmare, if you believe hard enough. “find someone who loves you, and you easily will, do everything-“

“i don’t want anyone else.” you interrupt, eyes narrowing as they open, like the idea is something of the unthinkable. “you’d be stupid to think i do.”

this might be worse than unrequited love, you think. every feeling is mutual, besides the belief that you should be together. he’s the bane of your existence. and that kills.

suguru is reasonable. you understand his refusals, why the two of you can’t be — how immaturely you’re thinking about this. you can’t leave your life behind for him, it’d be asking for your own death sentence and the loss of everything left that’s good in your life.

you can’t create a cycle, as much as it pains for you to come to terms with.

“i can’t have you, pretty girl.” suguru sighs, trying to ignore the way his voice wavers the tiniest bit. he’s growing desperate in persuasion, but even he falls flat against the situation. “i want to, so bad, but it’s not right. we’re not right.”

your chest feels tight as you stare up at him.

you wonder, truly, if he’s aware of all the turmoil he’s caused; that he’s let happen, because he never even came back to offer a mere shoulder for support. he simply left you in the dust.

it hurts to hear, especially coming from lips that had been pressed so wonderfully against yours. you still can’t bring yourself to hate him.

you used to fear irrational ideas. that if you let someone in, take care of you, you wouldn’t really be yourself anymore. independency never worked well, and you’ve strung on a bit too hard to a knight in shining armour. a being like icarus, who’s flown too close to the sun. you were right, it seems.

you’ve lost, and it kills to realize.

bitterly, you remember hearing some time ago that ‘it gets easier.’ or better. it’s been repeated to you, multiple times. the reality is, you’re not too sure. what gets easier is maybe the coping. but even that is still evil and painful.

hopeless, you stand, and your voice feels hoarse.

“… suguru?”

how can you hate something so natural? when it feels as though those syllables are meant to be spoken in repetition. his name means excellence; to surpass all.

suguru looks at you, eyes previously occupied with gazing upwards to avoid an act of human emotion. they mirror yours, glossy and faintly red. no visible tears. he has the self-control you lack.

but you can be a little selfish.

“can you…” you take a deep breath, and lean a little forward, resting your head in the crook of his neck to escape a reaction. if he feels the liquid of your tears, he doesn’t comment on them. he’s awfully warm. you’d like to lay in bed with him under a summer sun again. you’re trying to force every part of him into your memory while he’s pressed to closely against you. how his hair tickles your neck, the security of his loving arms keeping you from physical harm, how pretty he looks up close.

it’s not greedy to ask for a final request, you think.

“can you stay with me, then? for a few more minutes?”

an innocent question, while he’s been nothing but cruel. despite everything, you’re still you.

it reminds him of his youth. when you and satoru would get into playful arguments, gaining a few steps on him, only for you to turn back and check that he was still there. or when you would return from missions, him being the first person you looked for every time, just to let him know you came back safely.

sometimes, you’d come back a bit battered up, and instead of confiding in shoko for help like any other person would, you trusted him with treating the wounds. all natural, because that meant you got to spend more time together. human bodies are fragile things. he realized the true extent of that after toji. you really can’t take anything for granted.

so it’s really no wonder why he fell in love with you. why he came to fully accept it. and his belief stands strong — anyone would. angels are irresistible, he finds. he would sometimes see wings.

suguru’s glad you can’t see his face. because maybe then, you’d catch the sight of a reflective shimmer trailing down his cheek.

the embodiment of your dreams, hopes, and desires holds you so gently, a little tighter now. he nods against you, but it feels disconnected, because he’s faded into darkness that has already consumed him. too far gone.

time is nothing for now.

and you wonder if it actually does get better, or if everyone is just lying to you.

•••

september, 2018.

“sensei?”

blinking slowly, you immediately straighten at the sight of three towering figures above your relaxed position.

there’s a panic that sets in at the recognition of how watery your eyes feel, and your head turns in an instant to cough awkwardly, avoiding their stares.

it’s around noon, judging by how pleasantly the sun shines through the window, and how awake your students look. yuji liked to sleep in sometimes.

“did i zone out for a bit?” you mindlessly chuckle, the words feeling a little strange on your tongue. you might have a migraine from how much your head is hurting. “i didn’t get too much sleep last night, sorry guys.”

your smile radiates a reassuring warmth, and the concern on their faces leaves by the time you look back at them. if jujustu didn’t work, maybe you could take up acting.

“we finished the warmups you instructed!” nobara beams, short hair flowing after her as she proudly stands. she glances at yuji, her eyes narrowing. “well, me and fushiguro did.”

yuji shoves her.

nobara has always reminded you of rough recovery rooms and gentle curing hands. it makes you a bit nauseous, the nostalgia of it all.

the sight of the whole trio sometimes felt like daggers digging into your heart, stabbing greedy wounds into open gashes before they have a chance to heal.

brighter days for them, a dull ache for you.

“you weren’t awake yet-“

“i told you to wake me up!”

“you did not!”

yuji and nobara bicker for a second, and you feel a little overwhelmed.

because since these two have set foot on campus, they had seemed oddly familiar. unbeknownst to them, but relentlessly distressing for you. you’re silent as you observe, the uncomfortable pit in your stomach staying clear as day. stubborn, because that’s only natural for you.

more than a decade has passed — nearly three years since your last encounter, almost a year after his death, and yet here you are. the hurt just as strong, because you’ve realized that the pain will never fully go away, and you suppose you’ll have to adapt to living with it forever.

but you’re grateful. though you couldn’t go back to the way things were, you have a chance at stopping the cycle. after all, you know little about what the future has in store for them.

you hope it’s kind. you want those grins to stay permanently, for their youth and innocence to linger for as long as possible. because you never had that luxury. the end of your purity was far too quick, adult emotions flooding your senses. you’d do anything to keep them from feeling like you.

plus, you’re allowed to grieve over the child you could’ve been.

“alright, alright,” you blink, interrupting them before their voices can get any louder. they immediately quiet down, turning to you expectantly. it freaks you out a little.

you were still relatively new to whole teaching thing, not used to being followed so attentively. it felt weird to give orders — to have them be listened to, really. satoru was more of a natural, his cheekiness benefitting him perfectly. even if the students found him undeniably strange.

“give me ten minutes and i’ll meet you outside.” you wave a hand, pointing to yuji. “and sorry kiddo, you’re doing some laps for getting up late.”

you fight a smile as you witness a pout form on his lips, nobara’s laugh drowning out his whining. you’d probably only make him run one, but it was always amusing to lie to his face. you adored yuji — he was a bundle of joy graciously given to the universe. it’s pure luck that he ended up with you.

you watch as nobara drags him out, your head resting on your palm, softly chuckling. they complimented each other well. like siblings, you think.

your head turns, finally facing eyes that hadn’t strayed away from you since you woke up from your daydream. it's like a sixth sense now. you know when he's looking at you, when he seems genuinely bothered. it took time to know him. he’s a hard shell to crack.

“you don’t get special privileges, megs.” you snort, motioning your head towards the door. “go join them, i just need some time to wake up.”

megumi looks unimpressed (and honestly, when does he not?), sighing softly before coming closer. the cushion beside you sinks as he sits, and you raise a brow questionably. his voice is blunt, quiet as it fills the room.

“you think too much.”

it surprises you a little, but you’ve come to learn that megumi is rarely predictable, and to always expect the unexpected.

“do i?” you muse, your smile visibly weakening as you softly laugh.

he was too aware of everything, perception like no other. he reminded of you of suguru sometimes, behavior so nonchalant in comparison to the rest of the world. they were both silent observers.

megumi nods, and you realize he’s rather close, only a few inches away from grazing your skin. touch was something megumi struggled with growing up, so you never pushed it on him; you hated making him uncomfortable, while satoru could care less. the giant didn’t understand boundaries. but sometimes, movie nights in his adolescence led to him latching on to you in his sleep. he had his moments.

it makes the action of his hand raising, pressing your head into his shoulder, much more meaningful.

“don’t think.”

megumi’s never been one for melodramatic situations. growing up, he’d used to complain when tsumiki would force him to watch disney movies with her, getting visibly annoyed when he’d spot her tears during more heartfelt scenes. you never brought up the fact that he’d let her rest her head on his shoulder (you secretly wonder if that’s why he’s doing that now), or would rub her back. megumi’s not kind, per say, but he knows how to secretly love (in his own, strange way. similar to satoru), and you think that’s more important than anything.

“that’d be cool.” you sigh, closing your eyes. your eyelids feel heavy on your face, and you try not to get too comfortable, remembering that you’d have to get up in a few minutes. “wish it were that simple.”

megumi hums, staring straight ahead.

your past is a secret to him, tightly kept in the confinements of your heart. and that's really the only hint he's ever needed to know that it still affects you. satoru, the same. he knew little about your lives before he came into the picture, only hearing bits and pieces when you and satoru would get a bit sleep-drunk and giggle about old memories. he's always tried his best to listen, soaking in any details he can. people are generally more honest and open when physically tired. it's why they confess things during late night conversations, and why the flow of words comes out more natural.

you were different from the idiot that had originally taken him in. megumi can scream from every rooftop that he hated gojo satoru (despite it being secretly untrue), but you? the mediator, who he looked up to more than anything? impossible, it’d be criminal.

maybe you disliked seeming hopeless in front of him, but he didn't mind that vulnerability. he wished you'd trust him with it more — that you knew he would never dream of judging you. he's not too well with words, or communicating, really, so he's also not too sure how to tell you. a double-edged sword.

"you're okay, though — right?"

his eyes glance downwards towards you, dark blue highlighting the inklings of concern. it's not awkward when he asks.

he has a heart, despite satoru's beliefs.

heart warmed, you grin, raising your head to look at him with crinkled narrowed eyes.

you find it funny how the world works. going in some strange, bittersweet chain of events because here you were, caring for the life of a dead man’s son while he had permanently tainted yours. and you're happy. not completely, but sun shines through. the blinds are halfway open.

something that had once seemed so dark has been becoming technicolor.

"yeah." you nod, sincerely, and pat his cheek gently, stifling a laugh when his face scrunches in silent disapproval. "thank you for asking. really."

his face gently pulls away from your touch, and you can tell he's slightly flustered, just a tad embarrassed at your small affection. you're grateful for him, unbelievably thankful for the bits of effort he's always put into caring about you (and tsumiki. and maybe the tiniest bit for satoru. tiny.). a true blessing.

gingerly, he stands up, hands in his pockets as he glances at you again, double-checking. you smile.

he only continues to walk towards the door when you give him a nod in reassurance.

you're left staring at your hands when he leaves, a soft sigh escaping your lips. some days are harder than others. it's the toss of a coin, no chances pre-determined. you simply wake up to the surprise every time.

admittedly, you miss the version of you that doesn’t really exist anymore. naive, but more open. fearless and valiant, only ever seeking improvement. you feel bitter that you took that time of your life for granted.

you’ve found that everything’s felt easier, though. something in the air is different.

“hey, did you leave the kids outside? it's hot out there and they're complaining like crazy-“

you hear footsteps come to a halt, and your head tilts up, finding satoru in it's vision. he stands in place by the door, eyes wide as he stares.

"hey," you nonchalantly wave, stretching to alleviate the soreness in your muscles. "i'll be out in a second."

you attempt to get up from your seat, but satoru ushers towards you, stopping you from successfully moving.

"woah, woah, woah — what’s got you so blue?” he asks, scanning over you briefly. there's a light-hearted smile on his face, and if you didn't know him well enough, you might have mistaken it for amusement. but it's down-casted slightly, and he's looking at you a little too intently.

you snort, rolling your eyes playfully, “i’m not blue.”

satoru blinks, unappreciative of the response that he can only justify was from being around him too often.

“fine — what’s wrong with you?” he corrects himself bluntly, crossing his arms. your eyes follow him as he takes a seat beside you, and you internally sigh, thinking about how you’ve left your three students to perish under the sun.

you wave a hand dismissively, "nothing.”

“aw, c’mon,” satoru drawls, and you have half a mind to complain when he sprawls himself over your lap, his eyewear pushed upwards and off his face as he looks up at you. the blue twinkles, even under the fluorescent lighting. “you’ve never been a good liar.”

“okay, now that’s a lie. a bad one.” you scoff, poking his nose. “i’m a talented actress. oscar worthy.”

he playfully winces, narrowing his eyes at you. “no one’s ever been honest with you before, huh?”

“who needs opinions?” you roll your eyes, nudging his head softly. “it’s all about self-love now.”

“yeah, yeah,” satoru whistles, peering up from one eye, the other closed as he visibly relaxes against you. “see how far that takes you.”

you gasp dramatically, “mean.”

the corner of his lips quirks up, and his familiar smirk returns.

banter was natural with satoru. it was hard to take anything seriously with him around.

he brings joy in mundaneness.

“you shouldn’t trust megumi, y’know.”

confused, you pause, looking at him questionably.

“why?” you ask, and you’re internally conflicted as you attempt to recall every recent memory in your head that’s a classified secret. or, something you’ve generally told megumi as of late. nothing comes to mind.

“dunno. he told me something was wrong with you when i walked past him right now.”

your eyes widen, and you groan, head falling back against the couch’s soft exterior.

traitor.

“so,” satoru continues, and his voice is softer, a little more serious. “really — what’s wrong?”

it’s always been pointless to beat around the bush with satoru. he’s impatient, immature, and wonderful. a bad mix that makes you wonder how it’s even possible that he’s generally likable.

“nothing.” you emphasize, rubbing your head in slight annoyance. “he’s making it up.”

you rather not have this conversation. not while the air is half-hearted, and everything has been steady. but he’s right there. and it might not hurt as much as you think it will.

satoru gawks, mouth open, before poking you harshly. “now you’re calling our son a liar? low blow.”

you huff, “he went lower by betraying me.”

a beat of silence.

“so he was right?” satoru blinks, and he’s sitting up hesitantly, awaiting your voice, or a movement. anything to confirm.

“will you leave me alone if i say no?”

“no? you just admitted he wasn’t lying.”

“oh. yeah.”

you’re smiling lightly, faintly awful because you’re not too sure how wise you’re being. maybe this was only the mature option.

“um… i was just thinking. about him.”

you hadn’t really spoken much about last december. there was no tension or anything — it was just a touchy subject for the both of you.

satoru had more right to be bothered.

you expect his expression to drop — for it to grow uncomfortably quiet, leaving you to voice a regretful apology. you’ve rarely seen satoru break. his joyous front is him in natural form. sorrow doesn’t look right on his face.

he’s only been at his worse around you. and that’s a fact that binds you for life, as dismissive as you two seem to act about it.

angels carry weights off your shoulders, and satoru smiles a little. albeit, visibly bittersweet, but a smile.

“we do that a lot, don’t we?”

he’s stupid, annoying, and infuriating when he looks at you like that. as if you two are similar, and he knows how to ice the bruises on your back.

(he does.)

geto suguru is an enigma. is, because even in death, he’s found a way to stay alive. he lives in memories; in thoughts that keep both of you awake at night.

“i guess i just …” you trail off, staring at the floor. you’d be okay with living the rest of your life by satoru’s side. he’s peace, and he knows you tenderly.

you exhale, a small bitter chuckle leaving your lips.

“i don’t know what to do with all the love i have for him.” you admit, arms laying flat as you shrug with a despaired smile that makes satoru feel a little hollow. your hands flow freely, motioning for a few moments before resting back in your lap. “i don’t know where to put it.”

you haven’t known in years. it’s bundled up, suffocating your insides and exhausting your soul. he’s too well tangled with it.

a lot was left unsaid.

answers you crave, questions that will forever follow.

“i’ll take it.”

satoru grins, and you have to bite back a smile from how infectious his expression is. it radiates sunshine.

you feel his warm hands cup over yours, and he gently rubs across your knuckles with his thumbs, soothing that isolating cold. “you can give it to all of us, actually. but more for me.”

he’s silly, and he’s everything and more.

you wonder if you would’ve made it through without him. he’s impacted your life so heavily, you can’t imagine a world void of his presence.

“you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” you mumble, smile ever-so-visible as you playfully nudge him. satoru nods feverishly.

“i’d adore it.” he’s beaming like the cheshire cat, and your expression falls flat as you await whatever idiotic words would flow out of his mouth next. he brings a finger to his chin and hums.

“you know what, though? maybe give some extra to megumi. but i’m not really sure any love could save that kid. not even a mother’s. he's creepy, i'm telling you-“

“satoru.”

he innocently smiles, eyes closed. “just a suggestion.”

you playfully roll your eyes.

it’s all romanticism until it truly hurts. love seems so small, so trivial, when you’re not being affected.

satoru hides his grief better than you ever could. he copes uniquely, and you suppose his way may even help you a little.

they should invent a healing that is linear, you think. so you can’t fall behind, and you can be all-smiles too.

but you’re close enough.

just the right amount, actually.

460 notes · View notes

doodlebob2073 · 15 days

Text

Damn

we can dip if you’re ready ; satoru gojo

synopsis; your dreams of a peaceful summer are rudely shattered by the presence of your best friend’s older brother; the same brother who rejected you five years ago. the same brother you’re still hopelessly, uselessly in love with.

word count; 7.4k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, best friend’s brother!gojo (he’s the hottest man in the stratosphere), mild age gap (four years!), unrequited love, but with a hopeful ending kind of, bittersweet fluff, mostly summer shenanigans and pining, riko is satoru’s younger sister and i would give her the stars, sugu makes a guest appearance, (they’re both just there to bully gojo), he’s fairly mature in this i think, reader is very stubborn and very down bad, [name] is used exactly once

a/n; personally i would let him use me as workout gear (tagging @teddybeartoji @dollsuguru @hayakawalove @stellamancer @vagabond-umlaut !! tysm for the help and encouragement ily 🥺🥺)

one mellow summer morning, over a breakfast of pancake and toast, the puppy-love you’ve nurtured for the past three years finally reaches its conclusion.

you’re seventeen years old. in three months you’ll be eighteen, standing on your own two feet, headed in a new direction — the whole world within your reach. but right now you’re still seventeen, and lovesick, and sleeping on a mattress in your best friend’s room. listening to the sound of the nearby sea.

you’re seventeen, and dreaming about things you can’t have. you’re seventeen, and wearing your heart on your sleeve.

you’re seventeen, and hopelessly, uselessly in love with a certain satoru gojo.

it’s early. your veins are sleepy and your heart is heavy, and you wake up at the crack of dawn just to catch a glimpse of him before he leaves for work. he’s leaning against the kitchen island when you trot down the stairs, and the smell of syrupy pancakes hangs heavy in the air. his bare chest is exposed, his pajama pants cling to the curve of his hips, and he rejects you with an easygoing kindness you wish he wouldn’t grant you.

suddenly, without mercy. a finality to his voice.

”you’re more like a younger sibling to me. you understand, right?”

he ruffles your hair, and you’re still sleepy, and you wish you could grasp the strings of your heartbeat to stop it from fluttering like this. wish you could pull yourself out of whatever trance he put you in, three years ago, when you stumbled over the threshold to your best friend’s house and landed headfirst in his chest.

”you’re a good kid,” he says, and his smile teeters on the edge of something apologetic. mostly, it’s pitying. ”there are lots of people out there for you.”

he ruffles your hair, as affectionate as ever, the same as it’s always been. not a trace of any romantic intent. the weight of his palm on your head is usually a comfort, but like this?

it’s a specific kind of torture.

there are lots of people out there for you.

(i know, you want to tell him, but your voice is raspy and your throat feels sort of dry. i know.

but i want you.)

“don’t get hung up on a schoolgirl crush, hm?”

when you finally raise your head, satoru is looking right at you. kindly, patiently, like a benevolent god. his blue eyes flecked with dots of white, like fluffy clouds on a summer sky. tilting his head to the right, as if searching for confirmation, waiting for your response. you muster up the will to nod; smiling in a way that must seem pitiful.

but he just pinches your cheek, throws his backpack over his broad shoulders, and asks you to let his sister know he’ll be home later than usual today.

then he leaves. he leaves you alone with two plates of sugary pancakes on the kitchen table, one for you and one for riko. he put whipped cream on top, and chocolate chips in the batter. it smells good. it smells like an apology.

and that’s how it ends.

there’s no great climax, no real resolution. you bite down on your lip, and spend about an hour pitifully sniffling into a fluffy pillow, even though none of it comes as a surprise. it still hurts, though. your best friend comforts you, tells you that at least you have some kind of closure now — an absolute rejection to make your feelings go away. about time, she thinks, though she’s far too kind to say it outloud.

except they don’t.

the moral of the story is; satoru gojo doesn’t love you back. he’s known you since you were fourteen, since he was eighteen, and he could never see you as anything more than a little kid. you’re his sister’s best friend, and he loves you, but not in the way you love him. it’s not surprising, or shocking. it’s exactly how it should be.

satoru gojo doesn’t love you back. he never will.

(you really, really wish your stupid heartbeat cared.)

one mellow summer evening, five years later — you step onto a bustling train platform, dragging your luggage behind you, and breathe in the scent of a familiar seaside.

above you, seagulls chatter and cry. you look around, and everything feels familiar, despite the time that’s passed since the last summer you visited. the same flowers, peach blossoms and hydrangeas and tulips in all kinds of shades; the same street vendors and aroma of freshly grilled fish. the same cute and quaint port town, quiet during winter and autumn, pleasantly noisy during the warmer seasons. right now, on the cusp of june, there are enough tourists around to make finding the right face in the crowd a difficult task.

luckily, she’s quick to find you. with her long, dark locks of hair, neatly braided; her yellow sundress and matching headband, sunflowers embroidered into the fabric. barreling towards you with a speed that would scare you a little if you weren’t so used to it, used to her.

riko. your one and only best friend.

she’s nestled into your embrace before you can get any greetings out, and squeezing you so tightly that you have no choice but to let her beat you to it. she’s warm, like a bundle of sunshine. the same as always.

with a low whine of your name, she nuzzles into your chest. “i missed youuuu…”

a chuckle bubbles up in your throat. and even though it hasn’t been very long at all, even though you talk on the phone almost every day and saw each other in person just about a month ago, you indulge her. “i missed you too, riko.”

another whine, and then she’s pulling back. squishing your cheeks together and pouting petulantly. “you better have! don’t ever make me spend summer all alone again, okay?”

you match her expression, eager to protest. “you’re still mad about that? it’s not my fault i got sick.”

“too sick to see your best friend? too sick to continue our most important tradition?” she shakes her head, letting go of you. struggling not to smile. “awful. just awful!”

“drama queen.” her lips break out into a grin, and yours follow. “i’m here now, aren’t i?”

“you are,” she agrees, quick to link her arm with yours. you follow her steps, leading you towards that familiar house. you can see it from here, a roof burdened with morning glories, those expensive white walls. “no, but seriously. i’m really happy to see you.” her voice drips with joy, giddy and sweet. “i don’t think i’d survive two months alone with that old man.”

ah. right.

your lips curl up into a smile, albeit a little uncertain. giddy, maybe. nervous? you aren’t sure. something swirls around in your stomach, little butterflies. tickling the ridges of your ribs, all those fluttering heartstrings. it’s been a while since you felt like this. all your summers are spent here, and all of riko’s, but he’s usually too busy.

the girl on your right chatters on and on, clinging to you, gradually melting away your skittish nerves. she tells you about her morning, what she ate for breakfast, the new show she’s been binging — it’s just as familiar as the house that soon comes fully into view. big and expensive, but still cozy, overgrown with flora. you don’t think either of the siblings really bother to take care of it, but it’s a pretty kind of neglect. a cute veranda, a beautiful garden. the apple tree you used to climb.

the buzz of an old radio spills out from an opened window, translucent curtains swaying with the breeze. when you strain your eyes you think you hear humming.

riko grins, dragging you with her through the opened gate. the yellow paint on the fence is starting to peel, and someone from inside has started pushing the door open, and the butterflies in your stomach can do nothing but sputter and squirm.

it’s summer, and you're back. back in that cute, quaint port town.

(and so is he.)

“why, hello there! if it isn’t my cute little [name].”

time stills, for just a single moment.

he looks the same as you remember. a little taller, you think, but he was always tall enough to tower over you; broad shoulders and long legs, sharp blue eyes gazing down at you. he’s wearing black shades, but you can still feel the weight of his pupils, crumble under the knowledge that his attention is entirely on you. wearing a pair of sweatpants and a tight black shirt, showing off every dip and ridge of his chest. a pleasantly cool breeze ruffles his white hair, short and trimmed, healthy locks to match his bright and sunny grin.

he looks happy to see you.

“don’t be weird,” comes riko’s voice, breaking you out of your little spell. all while she’s ushering you both towards the door, beyond the threshold, into the hallway. satoru clicks his tongue.

“so hostile today. shouldn't you be in a good mood?”

then he’s turning towards you, again, tilting his head just enough for his eyes to peek out the slightest bit. they’re crinkled at the edges, and his smile is fond. “how was your trip?”

more butterflies. his voice flows from his glossy lips, smooth and melted, pleasantly deep. you can only hang on to riko’s arm, mustering a small smile of your own.

“good,” you chirp. a little stiff, but polite, like you’re greeting an old friend; it’s been so long since you last spoke to him. ”i’m tired, though.”

your reply is met with a chuckle, a raspy tremor of his vocal cords. it sends a shiver down your spine. the weight on your arm disappears, as riko stumbles forward and kicks her sandals off. muttering something about gum getting stuck on the sole. you’re left standing right across from satoru, suddenly very aware of how much space he takes up all on his own. leaning against the wall, making himself comfortable. and chuckling, with that stupidly sexy voice.

“i bet. take a nap if you need to, yeah?”

a moment of silence. riko curses in the background, and you shift from foot to foot. unable to properly look into his eyes.

for a second, his smile drops — eyes obscured by the black glass of his frames, betraying no emotion. it only lasts a second.

then he’s moving forward, one large stride towards you, leaning down to wrap his big arms around your waist. bringing you into a hug, not as tight as you remember them being. you wonder if he’s holding back.

(his touch burns your skin, all the same.)

one of his palms finds solace on the top of your head, ruffling your hair. you can hear the smile in his voice when he speaks, terribly sincere. “i missed you, kiddo.”

a quiet squeak tumbles from your lips, and you pray to every god you can think of that he doesn’t hear it. his chest is pressed right against you, firm, radiating body heat. his limbs wrap you up in it, a cocoon of warmth that makes it hard to breathe. you can smell his cologne from where your cheek meets his collarbone; sandalwood invading your senses.

“i m-missed you too,” is all you can croak out, voice breaking pitifully. at this rate you might actually faint.

just out of view, riko narrows her eyes. before you can plead for help, she’s tugging you away from the embrace, pushing her brother away, and you inhale as much of the fresh summer air as you can.

“alright, that’s enough,” she huffs, pulling you closer. “c’mon! we should unpack your stuff right away!”

“want me to carry it?” satoru asks, already eyeing your luggage like a predator about to lunge at his prey. even if you say no, you know he’s not going to listen.

so you let him. and within the next few minutes, you’re seated on riko’s bed, suitcase on the floor, a glass of lemonade in your hand. blinking sluggishly.

“are you sure you’ll be alright?”

you raise your head. your best friend is looking at you with a questioning glance, head tilted and brows furrowed. now you’re all alone, and it’s quiet, peaceful. her brother went out to buy snacks for you. all you can hear is the low buzz of the radio downstairs, and faraway waves.

“huh?”

“i mean, with, y’know…” she moves her hands haphazardly, making some kind of gesture you don’t understand. “with my brother. and your… condition.”

you blink.

“… did you just refer to my crush as a condition?”

“well, it might as well be!” she groans, muffled, faceplanting onto the mattress. “don’t think i didn’t see you checking out his biceps just now. you’re so obvious.”

heat rushes to your cheeks. you try to shoo it away with a furrow of your brows and a loud exhale, but it lingers underneath your skin. “look — i —“ you scramble for words, brain tied up in fatigued knots. “did you see that shirt? is he buying them a size too small, or what?”

“oh, come on! that’s all it takes?”

another pair of exhales. you cross your legs, and she rolls onto her back. the silence is comfortable, and you gnaw at your bottom lip until she speaks up again.

“you could really, really do better, you know?”

her voice is quiet. soft, sincere, delicate as a sheet of glass. you know she’s just looking out for you, that she doesn’t want you pining for a guy who’ll never return those feelings — she’s kind like that, always has been. but…

“… i just like him.”

you take a tentative sip of your lemonade. sour and sweet. the cubes of ice clink against the glass, fresh condensation cooling down the tips of your fingers. her gaze lingers on your skin. it’s heavy, just like his.

you meet it with a sheepish smile, a little self-deprecating, but not embarrassed. she already knows all about your predicament.

(you just like him. that’s all there is to it.)

and she pulls herself into a sitting position.

“i know, i know,” she finally sighs, slumping against you, cheek smushed over your shoulder. “just don’t give him more attention than me, ‘kay?”

you let out giggle. “well, duh.”

she gives you a sunny grin.

“okay, good.”

you put the glass down on the windowsill beside you. just so you can stretch your arms out, falling backwards; a mountain of pillows cushioning your fall. a yawn spills past your lips, and riko sits up.

“wanna take a nap?” she tilts her head, dark locks framing her pretty blue eyes, deep as the sea. “that’s probably good. we’re going straight to the beach tomorrow, you know!”

“mm…” your eyes flutter shut, and you focus on that faraway sound. waves crashing against sand, the whistling of seagulls, the salty scent of the ocean. “that sounds nice.”

despite your exhaustion, you end up tossing and turning that night. not because of your best friend’s snores, or the feeling of a mattress you haven’t slept on in two years — but from the quiet sounds downstairs. glasses clinking, a chuckle here and there. the tv being turned on. tossing and turning from the knowledge that your childhood heartthrob, current heartthrob, is in the same house as you. a little older, a little less childish, even more charming than you remember him being.

you’re older, too. more mature, you like to think, even if the gain is small.

(maybe there’s a chance?)

shaking the thoughts from your head, mind still spinning along to the tune of his humming, you squeeze your eyes shut and try to fall asleep.

you’ll be okay.

okay, nevermind. you’re completely screwed.

“oh, there you are!”

satoru is already waiting up ahead when you step onto the beach, feeling the sand between your toes, a pleasantly cool breeze giving you respite from the sweltering heat.

the sun beats down on you, fervent sunlight warming the water up ahead, calm waves and a sparkling blue to match the hue of the sky; cobalts and ceruleans, melting together like watercolour on a canvas. people crowd around the food stands, shaved ice and churros and grilled fish, scents mingling together with the joyous chatter all around you. vibrant sensations, enough to excite but not to overwhelm.

a picture-perfect summer day.

your heart tingles with something giddy, skipping happily as you follow riko’s lead; she’s wearing a cute bikini set, frilly and floral, hair styled into a pair of braided pigtails, kept together by her favorite scrunchies. leading you towards her older brother, waiting patiently, having already grabbed a nice spot for you. a parasol, a blanket, a picnic basket. you see bottles of pink lemonade, wrapped sandwiches, strawberries in a plastic container.

more than anything, you see him. you see him, and realize just how screwed you are.

he’s smiling, when you approach. as always. hair tousled by the ocean breeze, blue eyes gleaming with mirth, exposed by the sunglasses close to slipping down the bridge of his nose. he’s wearing a hawaiian shirt, black in colour, white floral patterns to tie it all together. just unbuttoned enough to show off his collarbone, a sliver of his chest, the short sleeves exposing his biceps; patches of pale skin, shining with the beginnings of sweat.

(you’re about to fucking explode.)

as soon as you’re in sight, satoru lights up, aiming the flash of his phone in your direction. his other hand stays tucked into the pocket of his shorts. “aw, look at you two!” he coos, grinning brightly, teasing and sweet. “pose for the camera, okay?”

you’re still too hypnotized to react, but riko scurries ahead, ready to steal it from his grasp.

“no pictures!”

“oh, don’t be like that!” he takes a step back, dodging her attack by a hair, still wearing the same grin. “you’re gonna thank me ten years from now, trust me. it’s for the memories!”

a new voice spills into the air, suddenly, and you’re brought back into reality. it’s silky and low, smooth and nice, honeysuckle nectar turned into sound. interrupting the siblings.

“it’s been ten seconds. how are you already bickering?”

you turn towards its source, and spot a familiar face — right next to satoru. were you seriously too mesmerized to notice him? black hair, another hawaiian shirt, slightly lidded eyes…

suguru.

he meets your surprised stare with a relaxed smile, and takes a step forward; meeting you for a quick hug. he looks the same as he did when you were younger, odd bangs, hair tied up into a bun.

“hi there,” he hums, right by your ear, a light squeeze before he lets go. “it’s been a while.”

you part your lips, smiling through your words. a little stunned. “i didn’t know you’d be here too!”

he chuckles, a light shrug of his shoulders. “me neither. satoru called me last night and asked me to drop by. i had time to kill.”

“you missed me.”

a dubious look. suguru gives a lazy roll of his eyes, avoiding the smug voice to his right. “i saw you last week,” he tuts, an unimpressed expression on his face. “how could i miss you?”

“do you need a reason to miss your best friend?” he shakes his head, slowly, side to side. white locks swaying back and forth. “awful. just awful.”

you stifle a smile, completely unsuccessful. the sun feels nice on your skin, and the scent of the sea is nostalgic, and they’re all the same as ever. it’s like you can feel your nerves melting away, slowly but surely, like grains of sand slipping through the gaps between your fingers.

“the matching shirts are cute,” you point out, wanting to partake in the conversation, only to be met with a pair of furrowed brows.

suguru sighs. “that…” he mutters, massaging his temple, not before shooting satoru a dirty glance. “wasn't planned.”

said man only grins, unperturbed, tucking his phone back into his pocket. thoroughly amused. “he’s mad that i stole his fit,” he chirps, stretching his arms idly. it makes his shirt ride up, ever so slightly, and you swallow a gulp.

“well… you look good in it.”

at that, satoru stills. gazing at you, silently, before breaking out into another grin. self-satisfied, a smooth curve, sunlight against the white of his teeth. you glance away, suddenly a little shy.

“does he?” the other two deadpan, completely in sync. it shoos away the smile on his lips, making way for a displeased frown.

“oh, come on. would it kill you to call me handsome now and then?”

“handsome?” riko places her hands on her hips, raising an unimpressed brow, a sassy lilt to her voice. “you look like a single father down on his luck.”

“seconded,” suguru quips, hiding the beginnings of a smirk. picking at a piece of lint on his shirt. “honestly, i’m surprised you’re wearing any layers at all. not gonna flaunt your abs this time?”

satoru brightens, suddenly. wiggling his brows, a sweet coo on the tip of his tongue. “oh? want me to loosen up a couple buttons?” he purrs, and you hate yourself a little for the instant yes that resounds through your mind. “you know you can always just ask, suguru.”

his teasing goes ignored, but you don’t miss the amusement that flits through the scope of suguru’s eyes, even as he tries to maintain that deadpan expression.

finally, he exhales. “well, see you later,” he hums, directed to you and satomi, checking the time on his wristwatch. “i should probably get going.”

“you’re not staying?” you ask, lashes fluttering with a confused blink. he smiles.

“i am,” he reassures you. “just gonna go fishing for a while. i thought i’d give it a try.”

“fishing?” riko exclaims, covering her amused grin with the palm of her hand. stifling laughter, you can tell, a bout of giggles begging to push past her lips. “what are you, fifty?”

satoru lets out a snort. to his left, suguru goes eerily silent — ominous, staring into your best friend’s eyes with no visible emotion. enough to make her smile fall. you feel a sense of deja vu.

“wait, i’m just kidding!” she suddenly squeaks, clinging to your arm and hiding behind you. she’s always had good survival instincts. ”don’t put me in a headlock!”

(they’re so stupid.

gosh, you missed them.)

“oh, by the way — do you want some shaved ice?” she turns to you, eyes crinkled at the edges, voice syrupy and sweet. “i can go get us some. what flavour do you want?”

“ah, great idea!” satoru matches her tone, tongue flitting out to lick his lips, glossy with chapstick. “i was just craving something sweet.”

“you’re paying, by the way.”

“…”

“so? any preference?” she tilts her head, waiting patiently for your reply. smiling once she gets it. “alright, got it. you, suguru?”

“i’m good. thanks, though.”

“okie-dokie,” she puts her palm out, facing satoru. “money, please.”

he only tuts, digging through his pocket and pulling out a black wallet. you think you spot a photocard, but he’s pulled out a credit card and tucked it back into his pocket before you can get a closer look.

“get me watermelon, okay? strawberry is fine too. if push comes to shove, go for anything other than lemon.” he hands her the card with a click of his tongue. “and watch out for creeps. if anyone hits on you, you know where to aim.”

she pockets it with a huff, exasperation on her features. “i’m twenty-three, toru. i can take care of myself.”

“aww, don’t be like that,” he coos, hands reaching out to squish her cheeks. she tries to squirm away, to no avail. “you’ll always be my little baby sister, you know. and, as your dependable big bro, i —“

“ugh, whatever.” she shoots him an unimpressed glance, finally escaping his hold. ”are you gonna go all men are wolves on us, or something?”

”they are! just look at suguru.”

”hey.”

you hide a growing smile behind your hand, watching them bicker and banter, feeling that sense of peace again. the summer day feels a little like a hazy daydream, a heavy nostalgia that sticks to your bones like gum on the sole of your shoe.

and, once again — you end up alone with a certain someone. suguru walks towards the faraway pier, riko strolls up to the stand selling shaved ice, and satoru lingers behind. you think he looks relaxed, at ease, but you can’t really look at him for too long without feeling nervous. without feeling as if you’re both ignoring the elephant in the room.

it still feels a little like there’s an invisible wall between you.

he’s the first to speak up, craning his neck and stretching like a big cat, a tiny groan escaping him. “well, there they go,” he hums. “what do you feel like doing first?”

“ummm…” you rack your brain for ideas, coming up empty. a little fried by his presence. you could go into the water, and escape the heat — sunbathing with him doesn’t sound so bad, though…

lost deep in thought, you barely notice him inching closer. still weighing your options, water or land, a relaxing nap or a splash war. you don’t notice until you feel his arm sneaking around your waist, pulling you closer, just by a hair. stealing all the oxygen from your lungs.

(you think your brain shuts down a little.)

his touch burns, as always. bare skin on bare skin. electric, a trail of sparks rushing through your veins. he’s warm, and solid, effortlessly composed — guiding you right where he wants you, which is by his chest, where you can practically hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat —

and then he’s pulling away.

you raise your head to meet his gaze, completely flushed, unsure if you were hallucinating or not. he’s looking somewhere behind you, with an oddly cold gaze. you follow his stare, craning your neck, catching a glimpse of a man turning his back on you both before walking away.

… was he staring at you, or what?

when you search for satoru’s eyes again, they’re already on you. he’s smiling, a little sheepish, scratching at the back of his neck.

“sorry,” he chuckles. “i got paranoid.”

oh.

your skin still feels like it’s on fire. a lingering heat, blossoming where his skin touched yours, rendering you speechless.

finally, you gain control over your vocal chords, dry and charred. just enough to croak out a response. “i — it’s fine.”

your eyes stay glued to the sand beneath you, staring at a crushed seashell, unable to look him in the eye. feeling the back of your neck grow hotter. you miss the dirty glance riko sends his way, having just returned with the shaved ice, and the way satoru mouths out a silent what?

it’s easier after that. she grounds you, a little, leading you out into the sea. the water is pleasantly mild, licking at your ankles, coaxing you further, until it’s reaching up to your waist. it cools you down considerably, and before you know it you’re splashing her with all you’ve got, giggles filling the salty air — seagull cries above you and wet sand beneath your feet, a glimmer or two of tiny fish, loud laughter. sensations all around you. satoru watches you with a smile, munching on a sandwich, not joining you both until riko beckons him over.

the day stretches on, melting away into evening. people leave the beach behind them, suguru heads back to the house with a bucket of fish and a smug smile, riko dries herself off with a towel and rushes to a nearby convenience store when she notices that it’s about to close. murmuring something about dinner, shooting you an anxious glance, a silent will you be alright on your own? with him?

you wave her off with a smile. hoping it’ll come off as convincing.

so, one way or another, you end up under a parasol with a certain satoru gojo; putting empty bottles of lemonade back into the picnic basket, rolling up the blanket, stuck with cleaning duty. satoru carries it all, unwilling to let you help, the basket hanging off his arm. you walk away from the beach, stepping onto solid asphalt again, beginning your trekk up towards the main street — not too long of a walk, but you’re tired, even though satoru doesn’t seem tuckered out in the slightest. walking a step or two ahead of you.

the sun is beginning to set, melting like a sundae on the boundary of the horizon, rays of golden sunshine dripping down your wrist. satoru looks good in it, the pink and orange; peaceful, somehow. when the breeze licks a stripe across his cheek, he closes his eyes and exhales. there’s a smile on those lips, a smile of contentment.

he turns towards you and waits until you catch up.

“tired?” he coos, tilting his head, absently tucking his shades into the breast pocket of his shirt. blinking slowly, eyes shimmering in the summery hue of evening.

“kinda,” you smile, trying to muster a pep in your step. another hum buzzes in his throat, and then he’s facing forward again.

“c’mon. let’s get you something from the vending machine, okay? ‘s just up ahead.” he pats your head, once, twice. “that’ll give you some energy.”

you can only nod, following his lead. hydrangeas bloom all around you, a thick syrupy scent, paired with apple blossoms from the backyards you pass. then you spot the vending machine. satoru takes out his wallet, finding his card — it’s not the same one as before. riko still has it.

and this time, you’re close enough to see it. in his wallet is a photocard, clearly visible; of a baby, sleeping soundly, with short tufts of hair. a dark colour unlike his own.

(your heart melts, a little.)

“cola or sprite?”

you raise your head, looking through the barrier of glass in front of you. then you’re stepping forward, fingertip pressing against it, pointing towards a green can of sprite. not looking at him, as you make your choice. ”this one.”

— suddenly, you feel his skin on yours.

you’re sleepy, and pliant, jaw caught between his fingers. he lifts it up, turns it towards him, just so that you’ll meet his gaze. two seas of blue, flecks of pure white, summer skies and summer clouds.

“there,” he exhales, pleased. giving you a reassuring smile before pulling away. “you’ve barely looked me in the eye today. ‘s gonna break my heart, y’know.”

a pause. you gulp, on instinct, shying away from his unbridled attention — eyes moving from those summer skies down to the curve of his glossy lips, and then back up again. a mistake, because when you glance down once more, unable to help yourself, you see it.

that apologetic smile.

(you really are obvious, aren’t you?

how embarrassing.)

silence splits the scene in half, only the faraway sounds of seagulls as background noise. they sound a little like they’re laughing, mocking you.

satoru presses a button on the vending machine, followed by a quiet beep. he doesn’t look at you when he broaches the subject, and you wonder if it’s out of respect or discomfort.

“still not over that schoolgirl crush, huh?”

…

something twists inside your gut. a little ugly, a little sentimental. now that he’s made the first move, it’s easier to move the pieces.

“it’s not a crush,” you murmur, kicking at a pebble on the ground. surprised by how clear your voice comes out. “i’m in love with you.”

a sigh. another beep, and the sound of a sodacan falling against metal flooring. he crouches down.

“… you could really, really do better.”

you watch as he fumbles with the pick-up box, eyes trained on the back of his neck, the buzzed hair of his undercut. letting out a quiet breath. “riko said the same thing.”

a snort pushes past his lips, ripe with fondness. he pulls himself up from the ground, shifting his weight from one foot to another, reaching for his wallet again. “oh, i’m sure.” he tucks the card back, slipping it into his pocket. a stray cat strolls by you, unburdened, waving its tail in the air. “really, though. you should listen to her.”

something cold meets your cheek. metal, condensation, a pleasant shiver down your spine. he presses the aluminium can against you, and you receive it with a murmur of thanks.

“i’m too old for you, for one.” he continues, and suddenly you feel a little like you’re being lectured. you break open the lid of the sprite can.

“you’re four years older.” a fizzy sound crackles like static in your ears, carbonation bubbling up, sticking to your fingertips. “and we’re both adults.”

he huffs out a breath, only mildly amused. “i’m pushing thirty, y’know?”

you take a sip, lips against cold aluminum, melting sunrays lapping at your skin. it tastes sweet.

“i know.” a pause, your bottom lip trapped between two sharp teeth. gnawing at the flesh. ”i can’t control how i feel, though.”

…

“yeah,” he sighs, leaning back against the glass. crossing one leg over the other, fiddling with something in his pocket. “i know.”

a moment passes. then he parts his lips, again.

“hey, how about you join me on a mixer someday?” he searches for your gaze, smiling, another one of those charming tilts of his head. “i know some cute guys. and girls, if that’s your thing.”

your answer is instantaneous.

“i’ll pass.”

…

another exhale, breathed out into the summer air. it drips with exasperation, ripe with fatigue, but there’s still something fond there. unmistakable.

“fine, fine. just… think about it. okay?” his palm finds its way to your head, ruffling your hair gently. that comforting weight. “c’mon, let’s go back. riri’s making dinner tonight.”

and then he’s taking a step forward. you watch his back for only a moment, still deep in thought. a fizzy, syrupy sweetness sticking to your teeth, a sense of nostalgia invading all your senses. and, as always, that silent adoration.

deep down, you know it’s true. there’s no changing this, whatever this is. in the same way riko will always be his baby sister, you’ll always just be the brat that sniffled into his chest after your first fight with her.

he’ll never quite see you the way you’d like him to.

(but, then again, isn’t that a part of it? that subtle, subtle kindness of his. the sense of maturity that asks for nothing in return.)

satoru is a good guy. that’s why you can’t help but adore him, despite everything. can’t help but watch his back as he leaves you behind, wishing you could catch up.

it feels nice, to open yourself up like this. crack the lid of your heart and have him wade through the carbonation. it feels nice to have your feelings be acknowledged, even if they aren’t reciprocated. even if you’re completely delusional, and high on summer joy. it feels nice just to watch him shine.

you gulp down the rest of your sprite, toss it into a trash can across the street, and stumble after him. veins sleepy, heart heavy, overwhelmed by adoration. you’ve already cracked the lid open; everything else comes easy. you just want to make a move, any move. want to see how he’ll react.

“satoru,” you call, and he comes to a standstill. when he turns around your arms are outstretched. “can i have a piggyback ride?”

the man before you blinks. once, then twice, fluttering like angel wings, or pretty clouds.

and then his smile grows. you catch a glimpse of his dimples, for just a moment, and then he’s beckoning you closer with a chuckle.

“yeah? now you’re suddenly all brave?” he shakes his head, no real discontentment behind it. “or are you really that exhausted?”

he studies you intently, ripe with fondness, and you think your sluggish blinks must be enough to convince him. because he crouches down, back facing you, and chirps out a hop on. a little teasing, of course, but still nice. his arms underneath your thigh, lifting you up like it’s nothing. making sure you’re comfortable.

he’s strong. very strong. the butterflies in your stomach flutter around again.

and you really are very exhausted. bones buzzing with something sleepy and fatigued, sore after all the running around you did in the water. completely tuckered out, resting your cheek against his back. like this, you can feel his muscles, the solidity of his body. it’s a little bit distracting.

“— remember?”

a series of blinks. you grasp onto his shoulders, holding back a yawn. “huh?”

“you falling asleep on me?” he chuckles, walking forward. one step after the other, the soles of his sandals hitting the asphalt. “i was saying — how i remember doing this back then.”

you tilt your head.

“when you fell and twisted your ankle. i think it was nearby, actually. some park?”

“... oh.” when you really concentrate, you think you do recall it; the feeling of his back against your chest, a dull ache in your foot. “yeah, i remember.”

satoru hums, a little buzz of amusement. “after that, you and riri would ask me for it all the time. carry us, big bro!” his imitation makes you smile, voice high and squeaky. “so childish, i swear. i could barely carry one of you.”

a chuckle tumbles from your lips, and it seems to spur him on; because he continues. nostalgia pouring out his throat.

“don’t tell her, okay? but, see — i started going to the gym after that. lifting weights. training, and stuff,” he huffs out an amused exhale, grinning softly. “suguru made me carry boulders on the beach. it was kind of our thing.”

…

“we almost got arrested once.”

you can’t help but laugh, hiding in the smooth fabric of his shirt, in between those white printed flowers. shoulders shaking slightly, giddy and amused. “you did that just ‘cause you were embarrassed?”

“no. because i wanted to be prepared,” he murmurs softly. “in case the two of you ever happened to fall over at the same time, or something. i wanted to be able to carry you both back.”

satoru continues to walk, facing away from you. always smiling, you’re sure. even if you can’t see it.

“you’re both precious to me,” he says, making sure to keep his hold around your legs steady. “that’s why i don’t want either of you wasting yourselves on some random guy.”

a displeased huff.

“… you’re not a random guy, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“well, of course not. i’m the guy,” he quips, standing a little straighter, and you can practically see the smug smirk on his lips. “but i’m not a very good person.”

you blink.

silence fills the open air.

he says it so casually that you almost don't catch it. matter-of-factly, like it’s just another obvious realization, something so deeply ingrained that it isn’t even worthy of a tonal shift. satoru, who makes pancakes for the people he loves, who carries your bags and buys you soda and keeps a picture of his baby sister in his wallet.

that satoru isn’t a good person?

(how could he ever, ever think that?)

“you are.”

a low hum buzzes in his throat, absentminded. you’re not sure he hears you. if he does, he simply doesn’t care enough to respond. the scene flickers by, the moment comes and goes — you want to protest again, but something about this silence makes you hesitate.

the only thing you can do is —

“satoru.”

another little hum. acknowledging, this time.

“do you… i mean,” you choke down a bundle of words, replacing them with new ones. gnawing at the flesh of your bottom lip. “is there really no chance… you’ll ever feel the same? none at all?”

…

a mirthless chuckle. he sounds a little tired, you think. more than a little exasperated. but the amusement is still there, laced into his voice, and you drink it in the same way you’ve always done. a little root, soaking in the light of the sun.

“after all that,” he mutters, “you’re still asking?”

a moment’s pause. you listen intently, as if you could hear the gears of his mind shift if you focus enough. as if just being stubborn enough could coax him into opening up the way you have.

finally, he parts his lips.

“well,” comes a sigh, a click of his tongue. he breathes in the summer breeze. “maybe in a couple decades or so.”

you stare. those white tufts of hair sway with every step he takes, and his voice has a finality to it that isn’t lost on you.

“… okay.”

a pause. then he’s barking out a short laugh, shoulders shaking. you tighten your grip around them. “okay?” he repeats, pinching the skin of your thigh. “can’t you read between the lines, you little troublemaker?”

a huff. you kick your legs, a little, just stretching them contentedly. wet hair sticking to his skin, your cheek still smushed against him, enveloped in his neverending warmth. “i don’t mind,” you whisper, choking down a yawn. and you mean it. “i’ve already waited eight years. a couple decades more isn’t too bad.”

silence, again. you wonder what he’s thinking. you wonder if you’ll ever come close to cracking open the lid of his heart. he parts his lips, oxygen spilling out.

(you think it’s a start.)

“has anyone ever told you that you’re awfully stubborn?”

you’re quick to nod, forehead nuzzling into his undercut. wearing a satisfied smile. “riko tells me all the time.”

“does she?” there’s silent laughter hiding between his teeth, eager to spill out. “that’s good. listen to her, alright? you might learn a thing or two.”

he’s teasing you. the sun is setting, and the air smells like saltwater, and satoru’s back is warm. his voice is set to a melodic lilt, and you feel strangely tempted to close your eyes.

and you adore him again.

right — loving him was never a choice, and waiting wasn’t an issue. getting over him is the tall hurdle, the root of the problem, a root you intend you trip over as many times as it takes for this something to bloom.

because he’s beautiful, and comfortable, and kind. because it’s his back you always end up clinging to. because he knows how you like your pancakes, how you take your coffee, what you look like when you cry. because you like this feeling, the swarm of butterflies in your stomach. even if they’re completely meaningless in the long run.

satoru is right, and so is riko. you’re stubborn, terribly so — if only you could see that as a bad thing.

if only you were physically capable of giving this something up.

unlike the siblings and their overgrown backyard, you just can’t seem to look away from an ugly bud yet to bloom. just in case it ends up blossoming, this summer, or the next. just in case it turns into something worth plucking from the ground. it’s fine if it withers away, too. at least it’ll give way to better soil.

you just like him. you just want to see where it leads you. that’s all.

“but promise you’ll go with me to that mixer, okay?” his voice calls, breaking you out of your thoughts. unrelenting. ”i’ll find you someone who’ll get your mind off lil ol’ me.”

ah. that’s right.

(you’re terribly, horribly stubborn —

and satoru is too.)

you grin, soft and giddy, thinking of the years ahead of you. what they’ll be like. where’s the fun in a certain future?

“fine,” you hum, wrapping your arms around his neck. inhaling that familiar scent of sandalwood. “do your worst.”

2K notes · View notes

doodlebob2073 · 1 month

Text

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

As the sun beats down onto the ripples of the rushing river, the sound of bicycles gently clicking against the path, you, Nobara, Yuji and Megumi are riding across can be heard, as well as the constant banter between Nobara and Yuji as you all make your way across the trail of the country park.

You and Megumi exchange a look as Nobara and Yuji’s squabble seemingly intensifies.

“Slow down and enjoy the scenery Itadori! Not everything has to be a race!” Nobara argued.

“I’m not going fast , you’re just slow!” Yuji barked back. After a little more back and forth, you sigh and tune them out looking at the picture perfect scenery before you.

Early on in your friendship, you realised that it’s better to just let Yuji and Nobara squabble without interference, it’s the way their friendship is, no matter how annoying or repetitive it is to constantly hear them bicker, you knew they were close friends and that’s just the way they are with eachother.

Getting a little bit too lost in your thoughts as well as the stunning landscape around you, you were startled and sharply turned around when you heard Megumi shout a quick, “Look out!”, but before you could register it, you loose balance on the handle bars of your bike and in less than no time at all, you’re sprawled out on the path with your bicycle on top of you.

You let out a groan and sit up pushing the bike off, and hiss when you feel the majority of the right side of your leg and elbow grazed, little bits of gravel stuck onto it.

“Oh my- are you okay?”

Nobara cut of whatever insult she was about to Throw at Yuji and immediately dropped her bike and rushed to you, followed by Megumi and then Yuji.

In all honestly the graze really did sting a lot but you were embarrassed so you tried to play it off. Megumi offered you a hand and you take it While sucking in a sharp breath.

“Yeah I’m fine.”

You smile through slightly gritted teeth. Megumi looks at you for a second, and you know, that he knows your lying, but instead of saying anything or calling you out on it, the faintest ghost of a smile appears on his face as he exhales a little loudly, almost like a scoff.

when your back onto your feet, Yuji quickly dashes down to pick up your bike to save you from having to bend, then flashes you with his cheesy smile, holding a giggle back.

“Here you go.” He says as he hands it to you.

You take it into your own hands and hold it while leaning against it a little.

“Thanks.” You grin back at him, your face flushed with embarrassment.

It definitely doesn’t ease your embarrassment when he accidentally snorts and then proceeds to full on laugh while trying to cover his mouth with his hand in a futile attempt.

Nobara is quick to smack him on the back and scold him for laughing, subtly flashing you a grin when you can tell Yuji feels guilty.

You weren’t sure if you imagined it but you think you can hear when megumi snickers at Yuji’s profuse apologising. When you turn to look at him, he’s quick to conceal his laugh and replace it for a deadpan look, but once you start to laugh, he cracks and joins you once more.

As the sun sets, you ride as best you can alongside the others after you tried your best to convince them you could do it. Admittedly you could- albeit at a much slower pace, but it was pleasant. The four of you riding at a leisurely pace into the sunset.

It was one of your fondest memories, but you had to remind yourself it was just a memory.

There able to be remembered, but never able to be relived.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - -

683 words

Don’t let me go by cigarettes after sex, was the inspiration :)

This is my first time writing anything so hopefully it was alright. I was gonna make it really angsty at the end but I couldn’t figure out how to do it, so just make a depressing ending up yourselves LOL. Hope you enjoyed :)

#jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #cigarettes after sex #yuji itadori #nobara kugisaki #megumi fushiguro #fluff?#possibly #hope you enjoy #thoughts #short story

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doodlebob2073 · 1 month

Text

Oh my gosh

“and then i go and spoil it all by saying somethin’ stupid like, ‘i love you.’”

- g. satoru

pairing: gojo satoru + reader

summary: when does one cross the line of a mere friendship?

warnings: angst, mention of intoxication (alcohol), gojo is a FOOL for you, drunk reader, hidden inventory arc didn’t end so horrifically and everyone is safe <3, cameos from suguru, shoko, haibara and nanami, everyone is in their early twenties, some crude humor, comfort & fluff

word count: 11.4k

a/n: inspired by the song “somethin’ stupid” by frank & nancy sinatra. this fandom is allergic to happiness - you guys make me SAD.

1:15am.

“oh my gosh - ‘toru! you answered!”

satoru wants to laugh at your excitement. he really does. but instead of feeling that instinctive sense of amusement you always provide him with, he feels a little bitter. it alarms him.

your voice is loud. a volume he doesn’t recognize too well. you sound drunk. ideally, he would relish you. to see you so careless was a rare sight. satoru had only really seen you intoxicated once, and even then you seemed to be hyper-aware of everything. like your body was inhumanly fighting for it’s willpower. as if the consequences of alcohol didn’t affect you - or, maybe because you feared it to. now, with your words slowly slurred and overly enthusiastic, he can only question himself as to why you were accepting the lack of self-control this time. there was something uneasy about it.

“are you having fun?”

his voice is soft. he sits at the edge of his bed, phone pressed lightly to his face. he finds your initial shock to him answering the phone silly. satoru has never missed a call from you. he had a bad habit of even answering you during missions - you always scolded him for it. but he didn’t care. it was you, how could he ever ignore it?

“i am, i am! shoko says we have to leave soon, but - oh my god, ‘toru, you know what i was thinking about?”

satoru lets himself chuckle at your jumbled thoughts. you’re like child who’s had far too much sugar, bouncing off the walls in excitement. despite his worry, he loves you like this, he thinks. happy.

you were no where near as unrestrained as he was, but you weren’t exactly reserved either. it was never often that you seemed to cross over the line, always cautious, meanwhile satoru always oblivious. he was an open book with captivating allure. but there was a difference in your demeanor, he had noticed. satoru was admittedly not too skilled with advice - at least, not pertaining to serious circumstances - but, you were important to him. seeing you so dull worried him. it was even noticeable to shoko, who had forced you to go out with her when the weekend finally came. drinks on her. judging by your state, you might had gone overboard.

“your eyes, ‘toru! they’re so pretty.”

satoru stiffens immediately.

you teased him a lot. it’d be soft, witty comments that would break his unbearable charm in seconds. but they were never flirtatious. that was satoru’s realm. an arm around your shoulder, him occasionally sprawling himself over you if you were laying down, him falling asleep on you more times then he could count, even going so far as to playfully kiss your cheek. satoru never hid his infatuation with you.

however, the thought of voicing it - with full authenticity, no humor embedded, was more terrifying than anything.

satoru tended to evade reality. he was a jester, even being carefree in moments that were painstakingly grim. to satoru, the world seemed to only spin with banter. ignorance is bliss.

“i’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

another voice, which satoru immediately recognizes as shoko, is heard through the phone. she was scolding you, and it was clear that she was much more sober in comparison. completely, even, satoru would guess.

“shoko!” satoru hears you giggle, and suddenly your voice sounds distant. there’s rustling, before a voice interrupts the brief silence.

“gojo.”

he feels a sense of relief wash through him. something that can take his mind off of your words. you were drunk, he reminded himself.

“what can i do for you?”

a grin appears on his face, finding the obvious tone of annoyance in shoko’s voice amusing. it was safe to assume you had most likely been somewhat problematic during your evening.

“come get her, gojo.”

satoru coughs, eyes widening.

“why? you’re out with her right now. what happened to girl’s night?”

it’s not that satoru doesn’t want to come get you. he would do anything for you. but with the state that you’re in - he’s not sure if he could handle it. you’re not like yourself.

“all she’s talking about is you. it’s driving me crazy.”

he isn’t given a chance to respond as the call promptly ends, leaving him to stare at the blank screen.

his eyes travel to his car keys on his bedside table.

•••••

1:35am.

satoru arrives at the bar in less than fifteen minutes. thankfully, the two of you share your locations with one another on your phones. it was a mutual exchange. for safety reasons, of course. friends being friends.

he’s tempted to call you again, just to find out where exactly you are (and maybe to hear your unusually upbeat voice once more), but he decides against it. he knows you probably won’t be the one to answer this time, given your inebriation. he rather face the humiliation of shoko’s teasing in one go.

the bar is lively, despite it nearing it’s closing time. at least shoko hadn’t dragged you to a club. it was safer this way, and while he trusts shoko with every fiber in his body, he’s aware that having a drunk person around is like having dead weight. shoko can be impatient at times.

scouting out the bar ultimately ends up being futile, with his search ending surprisingly quickly. satoru takes in the sight. you stick out like a sore thumb, smile bright and radiant as ever. shoko looks rather dreary beside you.

“finally.” shoko sighs, approaching him. she’s holding a lit cigarette in her hand, and satoru silently wonders if this bar even allows smoking indoors. “i’m gonna call geto or something. i need an actual drinking buddy… think there’s a bar around here that closes later?”

and while satoru wants to scold her for being out so late, he decides against it. he’s already appreciative enough that she had the willpower to stay sober.

instead, he snickers at the mention of his best friend, tilting his head. “replacing them just like that, huh?”

shoko smiles slyly, sending him a pointed look. “don’t act so nonchalant. i know when you’re nervous.”

satoru’s eyes widen, and he attempts to mask his surprise with a dismissive laugh.

“when - when have i ever been nervous?”

shoko’s face falls, and she simply blinks at him. satoru swallows thickly.

yeah, she was right.

he spares a glance over her shoulder, eyes landing on you. he almost winces. it’s a sight that even has him feeling lightheaded for a second.

your eyes are glossy and narrowed, and every movement you make seems to be in slow-motion. there’s a lazy grin on your lips as you talk to the person beside you, who satoru just knows is a poor stranger.

“jesus, shoko.” satoru breathes, momentarily glancing back at her. “why didn’t you give her a limit?”

shoko purses her lips, taking another hit from her cigarette. her face is difficult to read, though it morphs into something solemn - a twinge of sadness satoru can’t seem to understand. she looks back at you for a second before turning to satoru again.

“she needed it.” she gently replied, quiet enough to be heard by only him. “and-“

satoru’s unimpressed expression appears when he recognizes the familiar card in shoko’s hands.

“thank you, for it.” she cheekily responds, handing him his credit card back.

he hadn’t even realized it went missing.

before he could whine and scold her (and jokingly ask for the money back, despite his fortune), he feels the warm grasp of her hand around his wrist, and suddenly he’s being pulled towards you.

“alright!” shoko claps, grabbing your attention immediately. your head turns, and satoru swears he sees stars in your eyes. and maybe a little bit of confusion. you seem to have trouble processing his sudden appearance before an even wider grin adorns your face, if even possible.

“‘toru!” your arms find him, and satoru has to face away from shoko to hide his pink-dusted complexion.

you weren’t one for affection. he had expected a snarky greeting, per usual. this was different. his face feels like it’s boiling as he registers the feeling of your lips smacking against his cheek.

“how’d… how’d you get here so fast?” you giggle, pulling back from him to see his face, though keeping your arms loosely secured around his neck. “i was just on the phone with you!”

satoru has to remind himself how to breathe.

“uh-“ he glances at shoko. “i was just in the area. funny, right?”

and your body folds over, laughing as if he had just spoken the most hilarious sentence.

“what the heck?!” you gasp, and you playfully hit him in the chest. “so funny.”

shoko is beet-red from holding in her laugh. satoru glares.

“well!” she interrupts, smiling at you. “satoru’s gonna take you home now, alright?”

you gasp again, your hand falling upon your heart. “but girl’s night, shoko!”

shoko nods, faking a sad sigh.

“i know... but i’m not feeling too well, and i think i’m gonna stay here ‘til i feel better.”

she ignores the kick that satoru gives her. thankfully, you don’t seem to notice.

you blink, nodding back at her. “okay… call me when you’re home.”

shoko only hums in response, waving a dismissive hand before grabbing her phone to presumably text suguru.

satoru turns to you. you smile brightly.

you probably can’t walk straight - or go very far without falling. so, he offers an arm.

only to immediately retract it when your lips form into a pout.

“what?” he asks, confused. that familiar wit is crawling back into him, and he’s met with relief like no other. he could feel his heart rate finally slowing down, and a grin breaks out on his face. “you don’t want help, pretty?”

and he feels the world align once again, your dynamic back to normal as he observes your flustered expression. satoru smirks.

back in business.

“well…” you mumble, bringing your fingers to your chin in faux contemplation. you’ve let go of him now, though he’s resorted to firmly grabbing both of your forearms because unfortunately, your body has begun to involuntarily sway. “my place is farther, right?”

satoru tilts his head, from what? his brain is muddled, the forced proximity still affecting him indefinitely.

and though your mind is equally as scrambled from a completely different reason, you have the ability to read his.

“from here.” you clarify, and for a second satoru believes you’re sobering up, just a tad. it might have been the way you suddenly stand straighter, or how your expression relaxes. but that must be the fatigue, he thinks. satoru is a lightweight, he would know.

“we should just go to your place.”

satoru’s eyebrows raise in surprise, and while he wants to act completely shocked, he isn’t given a reason to be. you’ve always slept over, it was like second-nature. his home to be lived, to be simply loved. remnants of you everywhere, as if you shared the space. a routine that oddly encompasses what the two of you were. something never explicit.

“okay, we can go to mine.” he breathes, looking at your dilated eyes. you were staring at him differently. it was more intense. he chooses to ignore it. “grab on to me, though. i don’t want you breaking an ankle trying to get outside.”

you sluggishly wave an arm, rolling your eyes, though your head unconsciously tilts back with the movement. satoru’s eyes narrow.

“pshhh, i’ll fall just to spite you.”

•••••

2:07am.

the car ride was peaceful, surprisingly. at least to satoru, your drunk topics were like music to his ears. spontaneous and effortlessly random, though his creative mind seamlessly let him answer your brooding hypothetical questions.

“what if you crashed right now?”

“your hair would dye really easily, right? let’s do pink.”

“have you and suguru kissed before? i bet you have.”

the journey to get you inside his home was more of a different story.

“okay,” satoru breathes, leaning against the open car door, beckoning you with his hands. “stand up.”

somehow the alcohol in your system was just progressively ruining you, and you only could manage to blink up at him. it felt like the world was spinning, and satoru was just a painter’s mix of white and blue color. blurry, infuriatingly blurry.

“i don’t think-“ and you laugh, head bowing as your body shakes. a part of you is still conscious, in disbelief that you’re as fucked up as you are. “i don’t think i can stand up.”

his mischievous smile hadn’t returned since you were at the bar, and instead satoru had begun to exhibit a softer demeanor. voice patient, touch effortlessly gentle. you didn’t think too much about it, mostly because you mentally couldn’t.

“right.” satoru chuckles, momentarily pressing his hand against his mouth to muffle the sound. this was undeniably strange for him. had he stepped into a parallel universe? the roles are meant to be reversed. he was supposed to make shitty decisions, not you.

however, he doesn’t pester you further, simply approaching you and lifting you from under your arms. you try to support yourself to be of some use, but your hands fall upon nothing, vision whirling until it feels nearly nauseating. you give up.

“i got you.” satoru reassures, and suddenly, you’re pressed against him. an irritating reminder of his strength.

in a bittersweet way, it was kind of nostalgic. memories of past summers where you would be too tired to walk back to your dorm, the feeling of security from being so close to him warming you infinitely. he would tuck you into bed. and maybe you chose to overlook the fact that satoru had always been gentle with you.

you were in your early twenties now, that boyish charm still following him - and you’re sure it would never leave.

“do you feel sick?” he asks, now carrying your sluggish body. he had tried to let you walk on your own, but the attempts made were laughable. he’d rather avoid causing you trouble.

surprisingly, you didn’t. you felt more warm than anything, the buzz making your scalp tingle. you shook your head.

“feel…” your head leans against him, lolling to the side as if it’s suddenly become too heavy. “good.”

satoru hums in acknowledgment, fishing in his pocket with one hand, the other still holding you. he opens the door to his home with ease, heading straight to the bathroom after he’s closed it. you’re staring at him in wonder, and he senses the question before you ask.

“gonna get you ready for bed.” he answers, helping you up as you sit rather hesitantly on the counter. you hold your hands in your lap, closing your eyes. nostalgic, again.

it’s too domestic, and yet so normal.

it was usually you who would have satoru sit, gently removing his eyewear and helping him brush his teeth. he’d complain about anything - whether the water was too hot, the light was too bright, or the silence was too loud. despite the nagging, you loved taking care of him while he was drunk. and satoru craved the affection. sometimes, he got tipsy with hopes you’d be there at the end of the night. you always were.

“is this fun for you?”

satoru looks up from the cotton pad he had been coating with your makeup remover. during the times you’ve slept over, he’s picked up on the little things.

“fun?” he sends you a questioning look, a smile on his face. you diligently nod for longer than needed.

“yeah. when i’m drunk.” you reply, eyes still closed. “i like taking care of you… when you are. it’s been a while.”

satoru’s heart melts at that, though he only visibly snickers.

“well,” his hand reaches up to your face, keeping it in place as he begins to glide the cotton pad across your skin. it’s pleasant. “you haven’t thrown up, so i like it so far.”

you giggle, peeking through narrowed eyes at him. he’s awfully close.

“i don’t feel sick, s’ don’t worry.” you mumble, your body suddenly feeling numb as you try to force yourself to stay as still as possible. the bathroom light makes satoru look better than he should. you would argue it was because you weren’t thinking straight, but he always looked good. it was stupid.

“good.” he whispered, and for a moment you feel the ministrations on your face stop. the sound of your toothpaste opening fills your senses, and you silently watch as satoru coats your toothbrush. you smile lightly.

“i can do that… myself.” you slowly speak, grabbing it from him. you’re grateful that he refrains from teasing you as you almost completely miss the toothbrush with your hindered sight. he also nearly pouts, but doesn’t object. he likes to be babied by you, and he wants to return the favor. some of his best memories are ones he could hardly remember after nights out. unexplainably, it bothered him that you didn’t let him treat you the same. vulnerability is beautiful, satoru had found. he enjoyed it when he was around you. he wonders if he’d be as sane without it.

he watches as you jump off the counter, wobbling a little, which results in him immediately wrapping an arm around you.

“you sure?” he teases, and it takes everything in him to not pull out his phone a record a video for later. this is hilarious to him, truly. he’s surprised shoko hadn’t enjoyed it as much as he currently was.

you sigh dramatically, leaning against him in submission. a bit of your normal self shines through the reluctancy. satoru doesn’t say anything, only sneaking an occasional glance through the mirror you both faced. you brush your teeth like that, bodies pressed against one another. he holds your hair as you rinse your mouth. the stability is comforting.

you make no effort to separate from him after you finish. satoru doesn’t seem to mind. you’re not sure whether or not you imagine his grip getting tighter.

he guides you to his familiar bedroom. surprisingly neat, as he always seemed to leave it. it looked like the set of a movie - maybe too prim and proper. satoru was never really home anymore, business meetings and missions taking up the majority of his time. he was training to be a teacher, after-all - as strange as it was to you. despite it, you always valued how high you were on his list of priorities. he continuously made time for you.

the warmth you had felt is suddenly gone, and you complain as he leaves you sat on the edge of his bed.

“i’m getting you clothes, i’ll be back, sleepyhead.” he teases, and you watch as he disappears into his closet. you wonder if it also looks the same. you vaguely recall his uniforms neatly hung, casual clothes on the other side of the walk-in. on nights out, you used to help him pick his outfits. help me pull tonight, he’d beg. then, he’d go out with you and buy you a new outfit of your own. he loved being a judge in the dressing rooms. but you’re not sure if he was ever really honest; he would just end up buying everything your eyes lingered on. stupid gojo satoru. they’re fond memories, leaving you smiling while looking down at your hands.

satoru’s wealth was never forgettable. he was not humble by any means, but he was generous. with money, he had never been greedy. he’d spend his fortune on you if you let him.

that’s one thing about friendship, right? you give them your all.

“here.” a t-shirt and sweatpants are placed on your lap, and you recognize them as his own. they’re pure cotton, the material smooth as you feel it against your skin. curse men with money. “change, and i’ll let you sleep.”

inertly, you nod. your eyes follow him as he exits the room and closes the door behind himself.

every person has their own version of how they perceive someone else. to the rest of the world, satoru might be oddly optimistic. egotistical, definitely. you’d grown to love the fool, despite the flaws he continuously claims he lacks. denial seems to only be bearable if he’s the one complaining.

your limbs feel heavy as you replace your clothes with his. they engulf you, feeling like a warm hug. you have bundles of his wardrobe back in your own closet, for the nights when he would sleepover. strictly. and perhaps you had prolonged returning them to use them as your own. satoru never made the effort to ask for anything back, though. it frustrates you, the craving of his touch and scent so intense you’re embarrassed by the mere thought of it. he makes it all too easy.

the door slowly creaks open before your vision happily welcomes him back. you raise a brow at him from instinct.

“and what if i was still changing?” you asked teasingly, voice clearly worn out. you let your body collapse on to the outrageously comfortable mattress, sighing as your head hits satoru’s expensive pillows. they smell like him. “you didn’t even knock.”

your eyes trail to him, watching as he leans against the doorframe. his arms are crossed as he stares down at you, playfully rolling his eyes. the blue is ever-so-slightly visible as his glasses sit at the edge of his nose.

“you were taking too long. thought you might have passed out or something…” he replies, letting himself in. you only respond with a mocking laugh, eyes narrowed as they threaten to close.

“you’re a bad liar.”

he ignores you, and a satisfied smirk appears on your face.

you hear the click of satoru’s bedside lamp, and sigh in relief as the main fluorescent lights are turned off. your eyes invite the ambient orange with open arms.

satoru chuckles at you, removing his glasses and leaving them on the bedside table. you watch in curiosity as he crouches down beside you. he only smiles in response.

you try your best to hide your surprise as he lays his head on the edge of the bed, facing you. his legs are crossed as he sits on the floor, comfortable and casual. you blink at him slowly, shamelessly staring. he’s awfully close again.

“hi.” he whispers. that stupid smile, again.

you’re speechless for a moment, trying to overcome the feeling of your stomach flipping, as if you’ve just dropped from a rollercoaster. with the forced proximity, you’re nervous he can practically see your heightened senses. your entire body feels unbearably warm.

“hi.” you whisper back, finding yourself bashfully grinning at the intimacy. it’s involuntary, pure instinct. there’s blazing resentment that sits uncomfortably.

there were so many people in the world. why must cupid have you chase after the most unattainable one?

“tired?” satoru asks, tilting his head. his question lingers in the air for a while. you like the silence, relishing in how soft his voice had sounded. he chuckles when all you do is hum in response. “sleep, then. it’s late.”

slowly, your head shakes. “… i don’t want to.” your voice is muffled by the pillow. “i wanna talk.”

satoru rolls his eyes at your stubbornness, words completely defying your appearance. he’s sure if he stays quiet for over a minute, you’d be out like a light. regardless, he grants you your wish.

“about what?” he asks, and you appreciate that his tone is of genuine interest. you’ve never felt like a burden around him. your eyes close as you feel him caress the top of your head.

no matter what, there would always be a touch of bitterness towards gojo satoru, despite the tenderness he handles you with. and the most frustrating part was that he had never done anything wrong. he’s just himself. and you suppose that’s why it hurts a little more.

you’re left to collect your scrambled thoughts, eyes tiredly looking into his, as if they’ll give you all your answers. and a part of you thinks they might.

it’s the world’s most intimate staring contest. dilated pupils that you can’t register, the longing for something so mutual it’s painful.

to his dismay, you look away.

satoru is reminded of the night, despite the fuzzy feeling in his chest. he’s the first to break the silence.

“what’s wrong, pretty?”

satoru knows this is unfair. he’s taking advantage of the state that you’re in. drunk words are sober thoughts, he once heard. but you’re always so private. never letting anyone in, succumbing to your own thoughts until something like this happens. where you’ve drank an entire night away, and somehow, your mind is still plagued.

you look back at him innocently, and a pang of guilt seeps through his being. he’s tempted to retract his words, to climb and lay down beside you. to lull you to sleep. but he favors his curiosity and pure concern over anything. it blinds him. he’s sorry for this, genuinely.

you’re slow to answer, and while satoru tries tells himself it’s because of the inebriation, he knows it’s because you don’t want to tell him. your mind was everything but pliable.

your eyes leave him again, staring off at the wall over his shoulder. an attempt to escape his attention, but you still have it completely. you’re all he can focus on. your voice is still muffled by the pillow.

“you.”

the confession stings. and suddenly, satoru wishes he hadn’t asked. it’s too serious, too heartbreakingly honest. you deserve to have this conversation in a better state. but he’s evil at times. so he doesn’t stop you.

“you’re all i think about.” you confess, voice exasperated, and satoru feels his stomach drop at the view of complete hopelessness in your eyes. “it’s driving me crazy.”

he recalls the initial phone call of the night.

shoko’s complaints about how often you brought him up, saying you were driving her crazy. was that really the universal way of describing it? the confirmation only came when he got to witness your affection first-hand. the hug, the kiss on the cheek.

his mind is racing, heart beating so fast he’s afraid he will combust. feelings that had been years in the making with pitiful secret glances, all amounted to a confession that he’s not even sure he can convince himself is genuine. yet he licks his lips, breath faltering. he can ruin everything with a snap of his fingers - but this friendship? he can’t. he won’t.

“is that a bad thing?”

the question leaves him quicker than he expects, and he surprises himself with the bluntness. it eats at him, the yearning for your adoration so eager it scares him. the impulsivity of the sentence makes him think, yes, he wants to know what you feel. how you feel about him? do you think the two of you would work out? is it too complicated to even try?

a breathy chuckle leaves you. the sound reminds him of shoko’s solemn expression from back at the bar.

“i don’t know anymore.”

satoru swallows thickly, throat feeling dry. there’s delusion that takes over him, and he lets himself have this moment of bliss. he used to beg the universe for something like this. sitting outside, taking walks during the night on his own, hands in his pockets as he followed nothing in particular. his head would tilt to the sky, eyes shining at the stars. he’d beg everything that someday he’d get over his fear and admit his infatuation. that maybe he’d have a chance. that he wouldn’t ruin the two of you. the bond you had was too precious to him.

gojo satoru sometimes lacks self-control. he can be selfish without meaning to be. he likes talking, loves evading. because again, the world only seemed to spin with banter.

but now, it feels like the spinning has stopped. the earth is stable, frozen in time, being so generous with leaving you both to move freely. as if it’s fate. satoru thinks, just for a moment, that this feels okay to admit. he’ll be honest. even if it makes his world break.

“i’m always thinking about you.”

gojo satoru. triumphant to all, though perfectly okay with losing a battle to you.

he’s not sure how to describe the look you give him. it’s hazy, and he prays he’s right about detecting joy.

there’s a pause that makes him nervous. more nervous than he’s ever felt.

and then you lean forward to kiss him.

a hand raises to gently pass through his hair. the softness of it makes him shiver. he feels you cradle his face so innocently, noticing how the touch is there, but also not. you’re giving him a chance to pull away. always selfless, never forceful. the beauty of your nature. too aware of everything.

how heartless of him to kiss back.

it shouldn’t feel this good. he shouldn’t love how your hand buries itself in his hair, or how he could feel your smile against his mouth. it’s addictive.

he separates from you for a moment, watching as you sit up hastily. you claim his lips once more, as if they should never be apart. and they shouldn’t, he thinks.

the bliss is euphoric.

and yet, there’s a pit of uncomfortable shame that wrecks through his entire being.

when you part, satoru’s throat feels tight. his eyes are watering, and yet he’s unable to look away. it’s horrific.

what did he just do?

“i…” he quietly speaks, though it gets lost in the darkness of his room. a single look at you and all words are gone.

you have a sleepy smile on your face, eyes twinkling. satoru stops himself from talking, because he knows he’ll just find a way to ruin the moment. it’s serene and he knows he doesn’t deserve it. but he wants to enjoy it for as long as he can.

a soft sigh leaves your lips, and you breathlessly laugh. it’s fatigued, but you’re still there. present. satoru feels like he might cry.

“i love you.”

satoru’s eyes shut tightly, and he silently hopes he could conjure the ability to just disappear. to be gone forever, to never have to look back. anything to escape this, because his heart hurts. and it’s the kind of feeling that makes him sick.

he can’t say it back. he refuses.

adolescent love is one like no other. puppy love, is what it’s mostly called. puppy love that never fades, puppy love that never dies. what is that? just plain love? that didn’t feel right. it was bland and boring. a phrase that certainly couldn’t encapsulate what he truly felt. maybe it needed a metaphor. fireworks blazing in the night sky, the unexpected spark you feel as you accidentally shock yourself, the sight of the most heavenly sunset. even then, nothing completely translated.

satoru can see your eyes struggling to stay open, fluttering desperately with exhaustion. you lay back down. his body generously lends him the strength to raise his hand to cup your face. he caresses it gently, doing his best to mask the tremble in his limbs. your hand rests over his own.

this wasn’t a mere friendship.

in fact, there’s something in the back of his mind screaming at him that it never was.

satoru is right, you fall asleep quickly. your body gives into the the necessity, liquor bothering you no further.

claws grasp at him, pulling him back to consciousness. be realistic, they say. because this, this can’t happen.

his head bows down, and his body curls in itself. he feels sluggish as he stands up, slow steps taken as he feels like be may collapse if he moves too quickly. he takes one last look at you before he shuts the bedroom door. the sliver of light that comes from his open blinds leaves the remnants of his shadow, darkness looming over you. like a devil over your shoulder.

you probably wouldn’t remember in the morning.

his voice is a whisper that he’s sure you aren’t able to hear, even if you were somehow awake. it’s hesitant, mostly because the words make him feel bile crawling in his throat. he’s dizzy from it.

“it’ll pass.”

•••

11:47am.

it hurts to move your head. and blink, and think.

“don’t let me drink again.” you whine, arm over your eyes. it’s pitiful, and the boy beside you only snickers.

“complain to shoko.” he muses, eyes closed.

he lays beside you in his bed, enjoying the sunshine peeking through the window. satoru had disturbed your slumber in worries that you had planned to spend the rest of the day rotting with your hangover. it was a pointless concern, as he now knew you were going to do it regardless.

there was nothing different about this. it was normal. no uncomfortable tension. friends being friends, or so it seemed.

“thank you for taking care of me.” you breathed, leaning over to pat his chest lightly.

you don’t mention kissing him.

“it was…” satoru clicks his tongue in thought, humming. “an experience. for sure.”

satoru doesn’t either.

the avoidance aches.

“do you want water?” he asks, peering at you through a half-opened eye. he’s relieved when you nod, desperate to flee your overwhelming presence for a few minutes.

he wonders who would be the first to bring it up - if it would get brought up. did you even remember? he doubts it.

defeat looms through him, and he knows that he can’t just let the night go. now that he’s had a taste of it, of you, he’s not sure he could live without it.

so what does he do?

he begins to ignore you. as stupid as that sounds - yes, gojo satoru begins to ignore you.

•••

2 weeks later.

well, he tries to ignore you.

he doesn’t cut contact; he doubts he’d ever be able to stop talking to you for more than a day, but there is less vigor there. no flirting, no physical attention. it’s as if you’ve become poisonous.

it confuses you, and it makes you helpless. you start to doubt everything.

sure, having satoru rampantly run through your mind was exhausting, but you preferred it more than acting like he didn’t exist. you’re sure that if the thought of him was wiped from all your memories, you’d feel obliviously empty. gojo satoru was meant to be there. he had made his mark.

“you’re a terrible baker.”

you glare at him through the sides of your narrowed eyes, attention reverting back to the microwave in front of you.

“it’s microwaveable popcorn, satoru. i’m not baking anything.”

satoru grins in response, “but you tried.”

the both of you stare off to the end of the kitchen, looking at the trashcan that currently held a failed attempt at cinnamon rolls.

“you didn’t tell me the timer was going off!” you defend, arms thrown into the air. it causes satoru to let out a laugh, and you have to ignore how you see his hand stop itself from patting you on the back.

after all these years, you had always hypothesized (and tried accepting) that the relationship you had with satoru would mostly likely end with a premature death. yours, you had always assumed. jujustu sorcery kind of made that an unavoidable mindset.

never, never in a million years, would you expect it to be turned brittle with a kiss. a kiss that had began to shatter everything. ugly thorns showed through, stabbing at every attempt to make things seem normal again. it was an idiotic kiss caused by an idiotic mind.

did you really think you’d have him? you yourself called him unattainable.

“are you sleeping over?”

you’re not sure why you ask. maybe it’s to hear something, anything; a confirmation that what the two of you have isn’t fucked forever. but you see how he tenses. how his eyes avoid yours. you have to bite your tongue to stop yourself from having a complete outburst.

ignore it! you want to beg. act like it never happened, please.

“no, i have to finish up some work.” he answers, finger tracing over the kitchen countertops. his voice is low, and an awkward cough follows his words.

he would have never answered like that before.

despite your visible disappointment, you nod, fighting the urge to slap yourself across the face.

stupid.

“same.” you mumble, and while it’s obviously a lie, satoru doesn’t question it.

it’s just how things go for a while.

you text him every day, see him occasionally, and life simply continues. it continues without him really in it. at least, not as present as he was before.

you spend a majority of your time with shoko and suguru. they never ask you anything, but since that night you notice how they both stop bringing satoru’s name up. you wonder if it was a collective agreement, if they had spoken to each other privately beforehand. was the change in your relationship that obvious? it’s as if satoru doesn’t exist when you’re around them, and oddly enough, it helps.

it isn’t until suguru’s birthday that you really begin to crack.

organized by you, shoko, and satoru (though, mainly you and shoko), you plan a small party for suguru. it was an act of appreciation, you adored the man infinitely. possibly more than satoru did, but you refrained from saying that out loud. satoru was prideful in his love for his best friend.

“where do i put these?”

you raise your head from the cake you had been frosting, eyes falling upon a grinning haibara. nanami was here too, the two of them arriving early to help with decorations. haibara holds party streamers in his hands, assorted with all different sorts of color. you smile back at him.

“around the entrance, i think. i want his eyes to be overwhelmed as soon as he walks through the door.” you beam, eyes mischievous. haibara laughs, nodding in agreement. you watch as he walks away towards the front door.

suguru would be here in twenty minutes, according to his text. you had invited him over for what he assumed was a movie night. you had a lot of those now, fighting off the dread of your lonely nights without satoru. it admittedly felt wrong to have shoko or suguru fill that void, but you weren’t sure what else to do. satoru wouldn’t come over during night anymore. he’d linger in the afternoon, then be gone just as quickly.

“nice hand-writing.”

you freeze in place, the piping bag you were writing with stopping at the end of ‘birthday.’ satoru watches from above your leaned figure, eyes taking in the small drawings of balloons and neat cursive letters.

“the best, right?” you attempt to act nonchalantly, continuing to fill out the bottom of the cake with suguru’s name. “and i told you i was a good baker.”

satoru laughs at that, nodding. “i’ll believe it when i get a piece.”

you roll your eyes, shaking your head at him with a smile, and you finally look up, snorting at the sight of him.

loving him was so easy.

he wears a party hat over his head, the elastic band around his face looking somewhat uncomfortable. you notice he carries another hat in his hand.

“match with me?” he grins, stretching out his arm, hoping you would take it.

you don’t even complain. you’re so derived of him, the thought doesn’t even cross your mind.

there’s a certain type of joy that you could only feel whenever you were around satoru. his childishness definitely was a factor, but you wonder if it was also his unintentional kindness. you’re aware of everything, but him? you can’t imagine what his mind must look like. he knows how to fill a room with his presence. he knows how to make you smile. had he studied the world, or did it come naturally?

your thoughts die down when you watch his expression turn into pure glee as you attach the reflective plastic to your head.

it’s the most attention you’ve received in so long, and frankly, it’s pathetic that you feel your heart beat just a little faster from it.

in twenty minutes, you’re all stood around the front door, party whistles in hand.

door is open, let yourself in, you had texted suguru.

the lights are off, everyone hidden under the darkness. even with the lack of light, your eyes had begun to adjust, seeking out the silly decorations you had all put up. posters of cats and dogs with party hats, similar to you and satoru, along with streamers that extended to entirely other rooms, and balloons that took up the majority of the ceiling.

“i’m surprised you kept it a secret.” you mumbled, voice low as you crouch beside the white-haired male. satoru’s jaw momentarily drops, characteristically dramatic.

“mean.” you hear him mumble, and you gasp as you feel him pinch your side. you slap his arm, and he giggles.

it’s familiar, and you try not to dwell on the action for too long.

when the door knob tilts, you cease all noise. the creaking of the door is thrilling, the gap widening by the second.

you all jump out once it’s opened, haibara being quick to turn the lights on.

“surprise!”

suguru’s face makes you want to laugh. he’s surprised, definitely, but there’s also a glint of playful annoyance. he stands at the doorway for a moment, scanning the room to look at everyone he’s seen for years. all together, grins on every face. he momentarily observes the random decor.

“movie night, huh?” he muses, and you giggle in return. his hair is half-tied up, pieces naturally falling by the sides of his face. there’s that gentle smile that he always holds.

“worked out pretty well.” you shrugged, grinning as you approach him.

his arms are outstretched, and hesitantly, you find yourself in them. unlike you.

shoko’s eyes glance over to satoru.

“happy birthday.” you mumble into suguru’s shirt, squeezing him tightly.

and you’re ripped away from him as satoru throws an arm around the two of you.

“happy birthday!” he interrupts, and suguru makes a face as he obnoxiously plants a loud kiss on his cheek. you’re taken aback for a second, surprised at the casualness of his body against yours. as if the past two weeks hadn’t happened.

haibara, nanami, and shoko approach to give the male the same attention, half-hugs all given. and maybe satoru is reading into it a little too much, but suguru isn’t giving them the same amount of affection as he gave you.

his eyes land on the party hat you’re still wearing, a small frown on his face as he messes with the elastic of his.

he kinda feels like a lost puppy for a bit, following you and suguru as you seamlessly chat amongst yourselves. his two favorite people, mixing as they always have - but for some reason, it feels a bit different. it’s pitiful, the way he watches you interact with each other. shoko has to look away, while nanami and haibara are thankfully oblivious.

“you made a cake?” suguru smiles, eyeing the colorful frosting. ‘happy birthday sugi-poo’ is written, a forceful demand on satoru’s part. suguru’s eyebrow raises, knowing only one person would suggest it. “… with satoru?”

satoru gladly attempts to interrupt with an enthusiastic “yes!” but you cut him off with a scoff.

head shaking, you gave him a pointed look. “no, he made me write that.”

suguru nods, though his eyes linger on you and his expression turns into amusement. he can see satoru in his peripheral vision. he doesn’t question you any further.

the night is enjoyable while it lasts.

you end up staying beside shoko the majority of the time, the two of you chatting about whatever comes to mind. you always found it easy to talk to her, like she had a level of understanding that you couldn’t comprehend. you’d argue that it was the future doctor in her, but she’d scold you and tell you she wasn’t nearly done with her studies yet. you liked that look of annoyance on her face though, so you’d probably never stop poking fun at her career choice. a million years in debt if you weren’t a sorcerer, you’d grin. you wouldn’t call her lucky, though.

satoru is glued to suguru’s side, as he always was, though you notice how his expression seems a little less cheerful than usual. they’re talking, but you’ve never been a good lip-reader, so you disregard your concern and avert your attention back to your brunette friend.

as soon as he senses your eyes not on them anymore, suguru breaks.

“something needs to change.”

satoru leans forward, sighing heavily. there’s an exaggerative slump in his shoulders, and he slowly looks up at suguru. the repetitive topic being brought back up again.

“no.”

“yes.”

suguru scoffs, rubbing his eyes with his hand in annoyance, a level that only satoru could tread on and reach as easily.

“you looked like you were gonna kill me.”

satoru laughs, rolling his eyes. “i did not-“

“satoru.”

he looks back up, quirking a brow at the seriousness in suguru’s face.

“she kissed you. do something about it.”

suguru was the only person satoru had gone to, while you had stayed silent since that night. normally, satoru was reclusive with feelings, but suguru was more in-touch with reasonable actions than he was. he needed advice, though he never took it because he disliked the options given. stubborn.

“what if i don’t want to?”

there’s a small beat of silence, before suguru’s head perks up.

he smirks happily, eyes closed, almost like he had expected a response like that. he provides a solution of his own, voice light and airy as if it’s an easy compromise. it definitely isn’t.

“then i’ll kiss her.”

satoru stills, eyes widening.

realistically, satoru knew it was an empty threat. suguru would never do something like that to him - he was too civil and kindhearted. but his words bothered him nonetheless, because even if suguru wasn’t going to, someone else eventually would. he’s playing the waiting game, but for what, exactly?

the friendship didn’t feel the same anymore. beating around the bush was becoming a little pointless because satoru was distancing himself anyway. he wanted to keep you, but how could he when there’s something there that the two of you are both equally as afraid of saying out loud?

it’s conflicting emotions, all too grand for a man that fears showing them. he offers no verbal response, and suguru keeps up his smile, all-knowing and finally satisfied.

suguru leaves him after that, his back turning to walk the other way, his long black hair being the only thing satoru could really focus on. reluctantly, satoru stands straighter, feeling as though something had rid of him of his strength. it takes him more effort than usually needed to simply walk to the kitchen.

he pauses in his steps, and stands at the entrance for a bit. it’s you.

satoru’s brows raise in curiosity as he observes you scrummaging through every possible drawer. there’s a frustrated tone in your feverish movements. you hadn’t noticed him, too concentrated in your search.

“what are you looking for?” he bluntly asks, and stops himself from chuckling at the way your body tenses in surprise. you compose yourself quickly, sighing and turning back to look at him. your arms cross, and you lean against the counter.

“i can’t find my lighter for the birthday candles.”

satoru snorts, raising a brow. “oh no, the entire party is ruined.”

“shut up.” you groan, glaring at him. “it’s important! that’s like the biggest part of birthday parties.”

satoru leans back against the doorway, eyes spotting suguru in the living room chatting amongst other people. he’s lively, extroverted in a way satoru isn’t.

“i’m pretty sure he’d be okay without making wishes this year-“

“can you drive me to the gas station? please?”

you already have your wallet in your hand, and satoru isn’t sure how he feels about the fact that you just know he would say yes immediately.

“it’ll be fast.” you insist, and he’s not sure why you’re adding on to it, because he’s already grabbing his jacket from the other room. his mind is on auto-pilot around you.

you don’t tell anyone you’re leaving, simply expecting the trip to last less than ten minutes. the gas station is a few streets away, and you trust that your only mission is to buy one measly lighter from the convenience store beside it.

birthdays were always a big deal for you, it was something satoru quickly learned from your days back at jujustu high. if it was someone’s birthday, it was safe was assume you’d be outside their door waiting with a cake. birthday candles too.

even now, several years after graduation, you still have the ability to conjure up everyone into a single location for a celebration. you were difficult to refuse. it’s one of your traits that satoru found the most admirable.

it’s painful that the drive is mostly silent, only filled with small talk that friends of two days would engage in. only, you’ve known satoru for much longer. there had been tension gradually building over the past couple of weeks, thick and ugly. satoru knows it’s his fault entirely, but he’s selfish and would rather let you suffer to keep his peace.

you arrive faster than you anticipate, a breath of relief leaving your lips as you unbuckle your seatbelt, hand on the car door.

“two minutes, tops.”

satoru watches as you step out, hands in his lap.

he feels the cold breeze of the night air before the door is closed, and he’s left alone with his thoughts again.

fuck. fuck this.

this was torturous. with every passing day, he had only been pushing you further away. suguru’s words had been passing through his head like a broken record, repeating the same verse until it was beginning to drive him mad. something needs to change.

yes, yes it does.

he needed to take the initiative, as much as he dreaded it. he missed spending countless days together. he wanted them back.

satoru was just being a stubborn idiot, one that knows he’d be unable to really control his feelings. he’d just dig his own grave deeper, he supposes, until spontaneity ate at him and he could finally confess.

he remembers his teenage years, recalling the first actual time that shoko and suguru had cornered him.

it was a rainy day, excruciatingly slow. the three of them were hauled in satoru’s dorm, having nothing better to do than watch bad romcoms. you had been the only person sent out on a mission - only because you had been the only person who volunteered. it was uncommon for your classmates to worry about you in a a situation like this, knowing that yaga would only send you out so randomly when the issue wasn’t that big. two grade three curses, you’d be back soon.

except that wasn’t really the case.

you arrived back hours later than expected. bloody and bruised, clutching your arm to your side. grade one. jujustu high had incorrectly identified the curse. it had been able to split it’s body in three, as well as equally distribute it’s cursed energy. that was why it had fled detection.

impressionable, young, and (more notably) driven with anger, satoru argued for weeks with the higher ups.

gojo satoru was among one of the most respected jujustu sorcerers, even before adulthood. but it was an attempt in vain. jujustu would not fold by his say alone. he hadn’t even completely proved himself worthy of his title yet. the strongest, in jujustu high, definitely. but not strong enough. not yet.

and sure, you had made it out alive, but barely. weeks later, he’d wince at the announcement of your promotion to a grade one sorcerer. you were in the same boat as him and suguru now, all labeled as some of the best of the modern age for only being sixteen. he wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

the perception of satoru changed after that. maybe he wasn’t just a heartless comic. of course, suguru and shoko were well-aware of it, but this was something deeper. the entire experience had shifted their white-haired classmate.

while you recovered in the infirmary, suguru and shoko took it as their chance. it was during a training day. shoko had stared for a while, meanwhile suguru was looking in every other direction. they ended up both speaking at the same time.

“you like her, don’t you?”

and satoru had just dumbly blinked.

more than anything, he had wanted to say. but he remembered how much of a coward he had been that day. he denied everything, even going so far as to get uncharacteristically upset. suguru and shoko never directly brought it up after that.

satoru sighs, leaning back against the car seat, raking a hand through his hair.

it had definitely been longer than two minutes. where were you?

uncomfortably, he sat up straighter, grabbing his phone to look at the time.

8:43pm.

ten minutes had gone by.

without thinking too much about it, satoru exits the car, heading straight towards the convenience store a few feet away. maybe you were grabbing something else?

the bells on the top of the door jingle as he enters, his eyes scanning the area. there’s a sense of relief that flushes through his body at the sight of you.

though not visibly damaged, satoru could easily tell from your posture that you were feeling some discomfort. you’re talking to the cashier - or, rather, the cashier was talking to you. there’s a safe distance between the both of you, the counter providing a more comforting separation.

you’re smiling, and it’s stiff. satoru recognizes it to be forceful. there’s hesitance in your polite nods and undoubtedly fake chuckles.

“i’m off in an hour.”

satoru’s eyes widen, and he steps behind an isle to hide his obvious eavesdropping.

“no… ha, i’m actually pretty busy at the moment-“

“give me your number, we can reschedule.”

the cashier’s voice sounds more demanding, remnants of the seductive tone he held dissipating. how long had this been going on for? satoru shakes his head, stepping back out.

he’s not really sure what takes over him. protectiveness, yes, but pleasure? excitement? maybe a little.

“hi, baby.”

it comes out too casual, and satoru raises an arm to wrap around your shoulders. he flashes the most shit-eating grin at the cashier. this feels right.

“you finish checking her out?”

there’s a flush of satisfying red that darkens the man’s face, and satoru chuckles.

“no, no, checking her out.” he points at the lighter on the counter with a raised brow. “we’re in a bit of a hurry.”

satoru could feel your gaze, head tilted upwards as you watch the entire interaction in silence. he could sense how tense you were, though you made no effort to separate yourself from him. whether it’s from the situation itself, or satoru falling into old habits, you nearly flinch when you feel him press a small kiss on your cheek.

“three dollars, please.”

beating you to it, satoru hands him his card. the man is avoiding all eye contact, head tilted down to stare at the counter.

you often forget how shamelessly smug gojo satoru can be. he never really exhibits that attitude around you, always sweet and respectful. you’ve only really gotten a peek at this different demeanor once or twice - back when you used to accompany him on missions. he can be ruthless. frighteningly ruthless.

after satoru pays (with an obnoxiously toned ‘thank you!’), there’s a hand on your back that leads you out the door. you’re compliant, mind wracking with undeniable confusion, submissive in a way that you’re sure you’d be embarrassed of under any other situation.

you’re nervous, you realize. because this is flirtatious, intimate, and it’s been so long since he’s had you this close.

“what a creep, huh?”

you’re back in the car, fingers fidgeting with one another as you force your eyes to stare out the window. there are so many words begging to be spoken on the tip of your tongue.

is it really possible for someone to spring back like that? as if it’s natural? no mind to the grief of a rotting friendship, or whatever the two of you had. you appreciate satoru’s concern for you like no other - but when it’s dominant like that? composure lost, behavior cocky. a glimpse of it is all you need, because how can he act like that after everything? it seemed so natural for him to be so possessive.

“you okay?” satoru’s eyes glance to you for a split second, fingers moving to turn on the engine. he pulls out of the parking lot, and in seconds you’re back on the main road. you’re digging your nails into your palms.

satoru worryingly looks over at you again, unsettled by your lack of response. he acts before he thinks, a hand reaching over in an attempt to gently grab yours.

“i’m really sorry i didn’t notice sooner. i would’ve-“

“are you upset that i kissed you?”

his hand retracts itself immediately. satoru wants to slam the breaks and scold you; complain to you for saying something so sudden as he’s driving. instead, his entire body tenses, and his grip on the steering wheel becomes incredibly tighter. you remembered, is all he’s thinking.

you mean for the question to come out more hostile than it does. instead, it’s weak. defeated, even.

“… what?”

“i’m just confused.”

it’s ugly word vomit, thoughts you don’t want to say out loud, but you’re frustrated. because how can he be so carefree, knowing that everything is dwindling? how much longer can you passively stay alive, ignoring that stinging wound in your heart that cuts itself deeper by the minute?

and why does he looked so shocked?

“you’re so… complicated, satoru.” you whisper, head leaning back as you close your eyes. you’ve had enough. if confrontation was something he was avoiding - then, fine. you’d hurt yourself first.

so many years of pining after him, just to have your heart broken in a few mere moments. darkness bites you, everywhere all at one. clouds appear, rain trickling down as if it's just routine. a hallway of endless disaster. maybe you had done some horrible things in your past - but was getting put through this turmoil really necessary? your heart hurt.

“i’m sorry i did it.” it’s cruel that you can physically feel your body giving out on you. your limbs lay heavy, lip trembling. “i really, really, am sorry.”

you look to the side to avoid everything about him. you weren’t going to be able to do this if you saw his face - that much you knew. in more comedic (and equally as depressing) lighting, you wanted to jump out of the car. anything sounded better than being beside him at the moment, really.

but you also wanted to see his eyes roll with affection. a teasing smile, a soft mention of your name. but nothing comes, and it leaves you to fill the unpleasant silence.

“you confuse me-“ you pause, wiping a stream of unwarranted tears that fall from your eyes. humility seeps through your soul. “you confuse me because you kissed back. and that gave me hope for a little.”

and it really had.

you had awoken that next morning with the biggest grin, an army of butterflies swarming through your stomach. you had laid in his bed for hours, up until you knew he was awake. you were anxious - thrilled to hear him ask you about it. satoru had always been confrontational, which is why when he had said absolutely nothing when he first saw you, it crushed all those butterflies in an instant.

you cried once you were finally home.

gojo satoru does not do anything to ease your pain. not then, not now. his eyes are stagnant, only focused on the road. for a moment, you genuinely wonder if he had even heard you. or, more realistically, if he was choosing not to.

bitterly, you press your palms to your eyes, sighing softly.

this would be it, then. you would have to walk back into your home, light candles on a cake, and wish his best friend a wonderful birthday. all while looking unaffected. because the boy next to you just refuses to respond.

everything, all this, just because you liked a boy.

satoru’s eyes are hazy, and he’s sure he might leave indents on the wheel from his grip. everything about him feels unstable. the world is out of orbit. it's spiraling, keeping him unbalanced. he can't think clearly.

“… you don’t understand.”

no other word choice could have possibly made you more aggravated. a simple rejection could have cut it, and you would have miserably accepted it too. but now, he’s just making it more convoluted, too irritatingly intricate.

“then, god, satoru. help me understand.”

that meekness once displayed is substituted with hurt. genuine, genuine hurt. hurt because this is your fault, hurt because you know you’re being selfish by solely blaming him, hurt because nothing can ever be straightforward when it came to satoru.

you notice him pull-over. it’s an empty parking lot, the only light coming from distant street lamps. you reckon you’d prefer if he just left you stranded there, or if he could have the heart to simply kill yours and take you out of your misery.

“you have a knife back here?”

“shut up.”

it’s dejected, and your attempt at making the tense situation a little more light-hearted fails disastrously. you don’t remember a time where satoru had ever looked this serious. the closest would maybe be when you were sixteen and stupid, almost getting yourself killed when fighting a grade one curse. you wonder if satoru thought of the ordeal with the same fondness.

probably not.

“look-“ the car is parked, and you almost back away when you register him leaning over the console. “listen to me, please.”

you forget how much you cherished the sight of his eyes. as did everyone, you imagined. if you could, you’d paint the world that color. cerulean blue, the shade that mimics real art. unobtainable naturally, but satoru has always been an exception, hasn’t he?

“you told me that you loved me.”

blunt and honest, staring into your very soul.

and you nod, eyes wide, flushed and suddenly embarrassed. because you did. and you meant it.

you loved him more than earth, more than words could explain. you’d recognize his touch under a hundred others, his hands by sight alone. but his stare is all too intense now, and you cower, backing up as much as the small space could let you. and he only gets closer, like a moth to a flame.

“i did.”

satoru lets out a heavy breath, eyes blazing. it’s the most obvious form of visible relief you think you’ve ever seen. because you actually remembered. and you weren’t robbing him by taking back your words.

“you kissed me.”

disbelief, satoru understands it as. he’ll keep asking, because his heart won’t believe it otherwise. this wasn’t a sick, barbaric dream. he’s here with you. and everything is reciprocated.

swallowing thickly, you nod again. the start of the mess.

except, this didn’t really feel like a bad thing anymore. there was tension, so evident it clouded your head, but the reasoning felt different. you lay down your defenses, subconsciously leaning into his warmth. your angelic being, a savior worthy of everything he wished to touch. you’re enchanted.

“i thought…” and his words are almost breathless, because he can feel his body moving closer to yours. he doesn’t stop it. “i thought you wouldn’t remember.”

you feel like a teenager again, hands shaking in nervousness - in fear. what if you closed your eyes? would he still be there?

and you almost want to laugh; tell him that it was all you could really think about for weeks. that softness in his eyes, the gentle affection of his voice. the kiss, god, this kiss.

instead, you shake your head.

“how could i forget?”

that felt impossible. satoru was an idiot, but not like that. he’s rational when he wants to be. you hope he knows that.

there’s a shy smile that adorns his face from your response, and you think you have never seen a more heavenly sight. he’s hesitant, gentle again, as he always was with you.

you lick your lips, sighing deeply in an attempt to fix your labored breathing. you feel like you might pass out.

“satoru.”

there’s a fondness in your voice that is unfamiliar. satoru likes it. he hums, not trusting his voice. he’d happily listen to you forever. you can ask him anything.

“what do you want?”

it’s patient, the tone you hold.

he’s not sure how to answer.

was that fear still there? he can’t turn back now. the friendship has sailed away, going miles overseas. it’s changed. for the better, he now thinks.

he wants you. he wants you so fucking badly that it might kill him. impatience surges through, annihilating the chance of peaceful composure - of any chance to be fair.

because his hands are in your hair, and you register the feeling of his lips before you can fully blink.

it’s pure selfishness, a carnal desire that takes you aback as you struggle to match his feverish movements. his hands are everywhere, grabbing, feeling. but you want it just as badly, if not more. you don’t protest, body moving by will as he grips the bottom of your legs to pull you over himself.

satoru can’t describe the feeling. he’s kissing you stupid. like he’s wanted to since he was sixteen. as an adult, now, he feels as if the wait was worth it. everything was worth it. you were worth everything.

it’s with hesitation that he pulls away, breath heavy, eyes incredibly dilated. his hands are firm on your hips, and he doesn’t dare to move them. they’re under your shirt, feeling the heat of the bare skin. you’re soft.

satoru thinks his heart will explode at the sight of you.

he can see your chest rising and falling. quickly, at that - he hadn’t given you time to breathe. you’re holding on to his shoulders, eyes avoiding his. there’s a pretty shade of pink he can barely see from the dim street light. satoru’s hold on your hips tightens while he stares. your lips are glistening and bruised, all results of him.

you’re shy, head bowing because your mind is reeling.

“hey.”

you feel satoru’s hand leave your side, and it settles itself on your chin. the movement is gentle, but firm. he tilts it up.

the look he gives you flips your stomach. if the universe placed it’s heavens and stars into his eyes, it’d surely be lackluster in comparison.

“hey.” your voice shakes, and it makes satoru grin.

he taps your thigh, tilting his head. “you okay?”

eyes wide, you nod quickly. “y-yeah. yeah. i’m okay.”

that dazed expression you have might be engraved into his memory until the day he dies.

“okay.” he whispers, smile so lovesick it kinda hurts. he brushes a hand up to your face, softly caressing the skin. you only watch him, trying to memorize every single feature - the way his hair falls, his lashes white as snow - as if you hadn’t already after all these years.

there’s a glint of wonder that you see, and you raise a brow, waiting for him to voice his thoughts. you try acting normal, though when you could audibly hear your heartbeat, it was difficult to do.

“what?” you mumble, smile now matching his. it’s infectious.

satoru hums, and you shiver as he leans forward, giving into the temptation to press an incredibly soft kiss on your lips. you let him - it’d be a crime to refuse.

you think you see blossoming gardens when you close your eyes. it’s colorful, mimicking that unexplainable feeling in your chest. unfamiliar, but welcomed. like a paradise, inviting you. you don’t want to leave.

when satoru pulls back, he keeps his forehead against yours, a breathy chuckle leaving him.

the words don’t feel rough on his tongue anymore. it’s only natural. keeping feelings bottled up was bad to do, right?

“i just love you, is all.”

satoru thinks he may have been horribly wrong.

no, this wasn’t scary at all.

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