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levi-4uckerman · 5 months ago

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: ̗̀➛ satoru gojo x reader // like ghosts in the snow // chapter five pt II

╰┈➤ what goes up, or whatever they say..｡.:*♡

: ̗̀➛ Words: 5.0k : ̗̀➛ TW: pregnancy tests and lots of mentions, nausea/possible emetophobia triggers, light angst, jealousy, breakups

⇘ previous chapter⇙ •┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈• ⇘ story timeline ⇙

⌦ Tokyo, Japan | March, 2015..｡.:*♡

Days, weeks, a month passed by in a blur. Council meetings, calls from the higher ups interrupting your workday, stifled moans behind closed doors as strong hands gripped and pulled at you desperately. Your life was certainly interesting, and the rhythm you’d fallen into with Satoru was a confusing addition. It felt like the sweetest poison. It coated your tongue and throat with nectar, but left behind a trail of dread as it traveled down to your stomach.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

⌦ Tokyo, Japan | April, 2015..｡.:*♡

Two months now-- gone. Exhaustion clung to you like a second skin, dragging your every step as you crossed the empty corridors of Jujutsu High. The echo of your boots barely registered, your mind clouded with overlapping thoughts and tension. You had been summoned for a meeting this morning, one that you positively could not miss, or so an advisor had assured you.

Your stomach churned—a queasiness gnawing at your gut. Skipped meals and sleepless nights, you told yourself. You couldn’t keep anything down lately, pushing yourself harder than usual, chasing fragments of cursed energy and twisting whispers of fate into something coherent for those who demanded answers.

Headaches had plagued you for weeks now, blooming into a relentless pressure behind your eyes. It swelled alongside your technique, sometimes so intense you feared that you may faint.

The signs were becoming harder to dismiss. The nausea, the overwhelming fatigue, the strange taste in your mouth that never seemed to fade... Something deeper was wrong. Something you couldn’t yet name.

Around you, Council members discussed their favorite topic of the week: what are the three big clans up to? It had been on their minds, especially with the youngest Zenin and Kamo sorcerers beginning their terms at Jujutsu High within the coming years. You tried to focus, to latch onto their words, but your mind kept drifting, the strange heaviness in your body pulling you inward. Closing you off.

You caught snippets— mentions of alliances, lingering disputes, family squabbles— nothing concrete. It wasn’t until the tail end of one of the many voices sounding off that their words pierced through your haze.

“…And with the Gojo clan’s recent announcement of Satoru’s engagement, we can likely assume that new heirs will follow…”

Your breath caught and you struggled not to choke on your own saliva. The world around you sharpened into painful clarity. The councilman’s words echoed in your mind, sharp and cutting, as though the speaker had driven them straight into your chest and impaled you with them. Engagement. Satoru’s engagement.

You blinked rapidly, your pulse thundering in your ears as the room seemed to tilt around you. For a moment, you were sure that you’d misheard. But the murmurs of agreement around the chamber confirmed your fears— the Gojo clan sought to secure its future through its most powerful member. Satoru Gojo was getting married.

And he hadn’t told you.

The nausea twisted violently in your stomach, and you weren’t sure if it was from the strain of your body or the sudden weight of the news you now carried. Your grip tightened on the folder in your hands, your knuckles white as you fought to keep your expression neutral.

Someone else was speaking now, their voice low and clipped, discussing the implications for the balance of power. You couldn’t make out the details. All you could hear was the echo of those two words. Engagement. Satoru’s engagement.

“…Myoji?”

A voice, louder than the rest, cut through the fog of your mind and pulled your attention back to the room. All eyes were on you now, the Council members staring expectantly. You blinked, your mouth dry as you scrambled to remember what had been asked of you, to piece together the threads of conversation that you hadn’t really been listening to.

“The implications,” the voice clarified, impatient as ever. “What do you see?”

“Oh, yes,” you started, your voice soft but gaining strength. “I see… the balance of power continuing to shift. Slowly. Deliberately. But not without conflict.”

Your response was vague at best—you knew that. The Council seemed to pity you, however, quickly moving on around you. Please let this end soon, you prayed, letting out a slow breath and trying to pull yourself together.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The meeting adjourned with its usual drone of formalities and farewells. You barely registered the words, your feet moving on autopilot as you stepped into the hallway. The cool air did nothing to ease the grueling sickness in your stomach.

“Satoru’s engagement… new heirs will follow…” The phrase looped relentlessly in your mind, digging in like a splinter. You gripped the wall for balance, shallow gasps breaking through the haze of panic rising in your chest.

Would he? The unbidden thought sent bile surging up your throat. Unsteady steps carried you to the restroom, where you barely made it to the sink before gagging, your body trembling as it emptied what little you had in your stomach.

The sound echoed in the small space, mingling with the hum of overhead lights. Cold water splashed on your face, but it couldn’t wash away the pale, haunted reflection staring back at you in the mirror. Your hands trembled against the porcelain, knuckles white as questions swirled in your mind.

Why didn’t I see this? You were the Oracle, prized for your ability to see the future, yet this had slipped past you. The trust you’d placed in Satoru stung now. Despite your defenses, he always had a way of making you feel… safe.

The thought of him tightened your chest painfully, his piercing blue eyes and infuriating grin filling your mind. Had he known? The possibility gnawed at you.

A sharp knock jolted you from your thoughts. "Myoji-san?" A hesitant voice—one of the first years. "Are you all right?"

You straightened, swallowing the lump in your throat. "I’m fine," you managed, voice steadier than you expected. "I’ll be out in a moment."

The footsteps faded, and you exhaled shakily, loosening your grip on the sink. Falling apart here wasn’t an option. But the weight of the meeting, of Satoru’s name tied to someone else’s future, pressed down on you like a vice.

Why didn’t he tell me?

You pressed your lips together. Whatever the answer, you’d find out soon enough. Satoru Gojo owed you that much.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Looking back, you’d ignored the signs. Things with Satoru had shifted—less caution, more reckless. The pull between you had grown stronger, impossible to resist. When you were together, nothing else mattered.

You’d convinced yourself it was fine. Your technique had always been your safety net, guiding you through every risk. But this time, there was nothing—no whispers, no warnings. Just… silence.

You took that silence as a reprieve, a break from the weight of constant consequences. You never imagined it meant you were walking into a storm unprepared.

But now, with your churning stomach and the ache of exhaustion pulling at you, you couldn’t help but wonder if your technique hadn’t been silent after all—if it had simply allowed you to make your choice, to walk the path it already knew you’d take.

The thought lingered in the back of your mind as you carried on with your day, feeling as if your body were made of lead. Every step felt heavier, every word spoken to you sounded distant, muffled by the storm raging quietly inside you. You told yourself to push it down, to bury it for now. You had responsibilities. The Council. The students. There was no time to dwell on what might be.

“Satoru. Engagement. New heirs.”

And yet, you should have known the day wouldn’t let you avoid him. Fate had always been cruel like that.

The moment you turned the corner, your heart sank. There he was, strolling down the hallway with his usual careless ease, his white hair catching the light with every step. He was mid-conversation with Ijichi, but the moment his eyes landed on you, he stopped, his grin widening as if he’d been waiting all day for this moment.

“Shi-chan!” Satoru called out, waving like the sight of you could brighten his entire day.

You froze. Your breath caught in your throat, and there was no escape. Not here, not with him staring at you with that infuriating mix of teasing and warmth that you hated how much you missed.

Fate had always been cruel. And now, locking eyes with him, you realized how cruel it could be.

He waved Ijichi off with a casual flick of his hand and closed the distance between you in long, unhurried strides. Your posture stiffened, and you knew he’d notice. Could he see the tension in your shoulders? The faint tremble in your hands?

More than that, could he sense it? Your cursed energy was frayed, spilling through the cracks of your composure like sand. You knew he could read it as easily as the air around him. Would he say anything? Would he press?

“Satoru,” you said, forcing the word out, your mouth dry and voice rough. Another wave of nausea rolled through you, and you fought a grimace. You swallowed it down, keeping your eyes locked on him as he stopped in front of you.

He tilted his head, his grin maddeningly casual. “Shi-chan,” he said, his voice warm, like nothing had changed. Like everything was fine.

But it wasn’t. You couldn’t muster a smile. For the first time, you felt like you didn’t know the man standing in front of you. Or maybe you never had.

You didn’t know the warmth in his grin, or the way his blue eyes sparked with quiet amusement, as intimately as you once believed. Or maybe you’d never really known him at all.

His eyes flicked over you, perceptive as always, but he didn’t comment. Instead, he waved a hand lazily in front of your face. “You okay there?” he teased lightly. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Your nails bit into your palms as you fought to steady your voice. “I’m fine,” you replied, though the words felt hollow.

His grin faltered, just barely. For a moment, the silence between you felt unbearable, heavy with all the things you couldn’t say.

He didn’t call out your lie. He rarely did, knowing when you were hiding something but letting you keep it buried. Instead, he got straight to the point, bluntness softened by charm. “I’ve got a break in about an hour,” he said casually, as though he hadn’t just cornered you in a hallway.

“Satoru. Engagement. New heirs.”

“Maybe sooner, if something urgent comes up.” His eyes sparkled with a familiar playfulness, the kind that told you exactly what he had in mind. A lazy afternoon in his office, maybe, or a walk through the grounds where no one would bother you. He’d slip his arm around your waist, tug you closer, make you laugh the way he always did.

You’d have jumped at the opportunity any other day. Hell, you’d have jumped at it if he’d asked you three hours ago. But now, standing here, seeing him in front of you, hearing his voice… hurt.

It hurt in ways you hadn’t expected.

You realized then, with a clarity that took your breath away, that what the Council had let slip wasn’t something you were ever supposed to know. It was a secret. A carefully constructed, deliberate omission. One that Satoru had no intention of sharing with you.

And that hurt more than anything else.

You swallowed hard, your mouth dry, the sickness from earlier threatening to resurface. “I can’t,” you said, your voice quieter than you’d intended. You averted your eyes, fixing them on the wooden floor. “I’ve got too much on my plate today.”

Satoru tilted his head, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. “Really?” he asked, his tone light, but the teasing edge had softened. “Too much for me, huh?”

You nodded stiffly in confirmation. “Yeah. Too much for you.”

The silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating, until he finally stepped back with a lazy shrug. “All right, Shi-chan. Rain check?”

The smile he gave you didn’t reach his eyes. And for once, you didn’t feel guilty for letting it linger unanswered.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You went home early that day. You didn’t care if Satoru found out. You didn’t care if anyone found out. The nausea had become unbearable, your stomach twisting with every step as though your body was rebelling against the weight of your own thoughts. Your phone buzzed incessantly in your bag, executives firing off email after email demanding predictions, timelines, answers. You silenced it without a second glance.

It wasn’t like you to take sick leave, and you knew word would spread quickly—Myoji Shiori, the Council’s prized Oracle, walking out mid-shift.

Was it horrible that part of you wanted it to? That you wanted someone to see the cracks in your composure, to wonder if you’d been pushed too far?

Your first stop wasn’t home. It wasn’t the quiet solace of your favorite corner of the city. It was a shadowy little shop squeezed between a crumbling pachinko parlor and an izakaya with faded lanterns, far from the orderly streets surrounding the school. The sign overhead flickered erratically, half the kanji obscured by grime, and the dingy interior smelled faintly of mildew and old cardboard. The buzz of fluorescent lights overhead mixed with the muffled sounds of drunken laughter filtering in from the street outside, making the place feel both suffocating and strangely anonymous. It was exactly what you needed—somewhere no one would think to find you.

You weaved between rows of brightly colored labels and neatly stacked boxes. The section you were looking for wasn’t hard to find, tucked near the shelves of feminine hygiene products, as if hoping to go unnoticed. When you stopped in front of it, your chest tightened.

The shelves were lined with choices—digital, early detection, two-pack, five-pack, bold promises of “99% accuracy” printed in crisp Japanese characters. Your fingers hovered uncertainly before you finally reached out, plucking one box off the shelf. Then another. And another. Soon, your arms were full, trembling under the weight of flimsy cardboard packaging that somehow felt heavier than anything you’d ever carried.

Ten. You’d grabbed ten, your mind too clouded to think about whether that was too much or not enough. Each box seemed to scream at you with its branding, demanding answers you weren’t sure you were ready to face. The packaging looked familiar enough, even if the brands weren’t, but the uniform neatness of the display made the moment feel oddly clinical.

You glanced around, your gaze flicking to the nearby aisles. The store clerk at the counter was busy scanning a customer’s items, their attention elsewhere, but the thought of being seen still made your stomach twist. You dumped the tests into your basket in a rush, the motion awkward and frantic, as though speed might somehow make the moment less real. The weight of the basket in your hand felt impossibly heavy, each step toward the register adding to the tightness in your chest.

The automatic doors slid open with a hiss as you stepped out into the cool afternoon air. The neon lights from nearby signs flickered against the wet pavement, and the faint scent of rain lingered in the air. You clutched the bag tighter, letting the distant hum of traffic drown out your thoughts as you headed toward the nearest train station, the test burning in your pocket like a question you couldn’t ignore.

You’d taken a step. A tiny, terrifying step toward an answer. But the question loomed larger than ever: Did you even want to know?

When you tried to use your technique, it was like grasping at smoke.

Your chest tightened as you tried again and again, each fruitless attempt making your head spin faster, faster. The threads flickered before you, weaving in and out of sight, but each time you reached for them, they slipped away. They felt tangled, obscured, as if they were deliberately hiding from you.

You opened your eyes, your breath uneven. Maybe it was stress. Maybe it was the fatigue that had been weighing you down for weeks now, stealing your focus and muddling your thoughts. Or maybe… maybe your technique wasn’t meant for this.

The thought hit you harder than you expected, a sharp pang of frustration and fear twisting in your chest. You’d relied on your clairvoyance for so long, trusted it to guide you, to protect you from mistakes. And now, when you needed it most, it was silent.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

When you reached your apartment, you bolted the door behind you. Your fingers moving on autopilot as you activated a barrier—a simple but effective wall of cursed energy that ensured no one, not even Satoru, could cross without your permission. It was obvious, he would see it from miles away, but at least he couldn’t sneak up on you.

You leaned back against the door, your chest rising and falling as you tried to steady your breathing. You couldn’t let him see you like this. Not yet. Not until you knew for sure.

The thin boxes rustled faintly in your bag, a reminder of the decision you’d made, the answers you needed.

Before you could confront him, before you could even think about it, you had to know. This wasn’t about him. Not yet.

This was about you. About the fragile, terrifying truth that might be waiting just beneath the surface.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You took all ten tests.

When the first one came back positive, you froze. Your breath caught, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to blur. It wasn’t real—it couldn’t be real. Your shaking hands reached for another test, fumbling with the flimsy packaging as your pulse pounded in your ears. You told yourself it was a mistake, a fluke. The test was wrong. It had to be.

But the second one came back the same.

And the third.

By the fourth, your legs were weak, and you sank onto the cold bathroom floor, the edges of the tile pressing into your skin as you opened another box. Your hands trembled so badly that the cheap plastic nearly slipped through your shaking fingers, and you struggled to steady it, whispering under your breath, Please, no. Please, just let this one be negative.

The minutes stretched endlessly as you stared at the sink, where the first three sat like silent witnesses. The fourth joined them, its result stark and undeniable.

Positive. Always positive.

You kept going. Five. Six. Seven. Each one delivered the same verdict, and each time, your chest tightened a little more. By the eighth, tears blurred your vision, and you struggled to read the result through the haze.

You finally stopped at number ten, your hands falling limply to your sides as the final proof stared back at you. A jumble of pink and blue lines, tiny plastic windows blinking Pregnant, sat in a messy pile on the sink.

Your breath came in shallow, shaky gasps as you stared at them, your mind racing through an endless reel of questions you couldn’t answer. How had this happened? You’d been careful… No—you hadn’t. Not with him. Not with Satoru. Careful had never been part of what you shared with him.

Your head pounded as emotions swirled inside you, one crashing into the next before you could even name them. Disbelief, sharp and cold, settled first. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.

But it was.

Dread came next, clawing its way up your throat, twisting your stomach into knots. This would change everything. Your life, your work, the fragile balance you’d fought so hard to maintain.

Then there was anger. At him, at yourself, at the universe for letting this happen. For taking something so complicated, so fragile, and making it even harder to hold together.

And beneath it all, buried deep, was something softer. Something you didn’t want to name but couldn’t ignore. Joy. It was faint, like the first light of morning, but it was there, warming the edges of your fear and leaving you breathless in its wake.

You pressed your hands against your knees, trying to steady the trembling in your body as you stared at the pile of tests. Ten. Ten confirmations of the truth you couldn’t escape.

You were pregnant.

And nothing in your life would ever be the same.

Your phone buzzed angrily in your pocket, the vibration slicing through the suffocating stillness of the bathroom like a knife. It startled you, dragging your focus away from the pile of pregnancy tests scattered on the sink—the undeniable, irrefutable truth staring back at you.

You fumbled for your phone, heart dropping as you glanced at the screen.

Satoru.

For a moment, you hesitated, frozen as his name glared at you, demanding your attention. Then, with trembling fingers, you hit decline, the sound of it cutting off abruptly.

You sagged back against the wall, your breaths shallow and uneven. But the relief was short-lived.

The phone buzzed again, his name lighting up the screen almost immediately. The audacity of it made your jaw clench. You declined again, but the vibrations resumed before you could even lower the phone. He wasn’t giving up. Of course, he wasn’t.

Your hands shook as you stared at the device, your thoughts spiraling. Why now? Did he sense something? Did he know? Or was this just another one of his perfectly-timed interruptions, the kind that always left you teetering on the edge of losing control?

You started to lower your guard when it vibrated again—a text this time.

Shi-chan, I’m outside.

Your breath hitched.

You opened the message, your thumb trembling as you read the next line:

Answer your phone, or I’m coming in. Barrier or not.

The weight of those words crashed over you, your chest tightening as you reread them. The threat wasn’t empty. You knew him well enough to understand that. If he was outside, he wouldn’t wait much longer.

Your fingers curled tightly around the phone, and for a moment, you debated letting him try. Let him destroy the barrier, let him walk into this mess you hadn’t asked for, let him see what you couldn’t bring yourself to say.

But you couldn’t. You wouldn’t.

Five minutes, Shi-chan. Then I’m coming in. And I’d hate to piss off your neighbors.

You groaned, pressing the phone against your forehead as your legs threatened to give out beneath you. Of course, he wouldn’t leave it alone. Satoru Gojo didn’t leave anything alone.

You shoved the tests back into the bag, your hands shaking as you crammed the jumble of plastic sticks and cardboard boxes beneath the sink. The cabinet door banged shut with a hollow sound that seemed to echo in the cramped bathroom. You leaned against it for a moment, closing your eyes and drawing in a long, shuddering breath.

Keep it to yourself, you told yourself firmly. For now.

The weight of the decision settled uneasily on your chest, but you pushed it down. This thing—whatever it was—you couldn’t face it yet. And you couldn’t face him with it, either. Not now.

But something was becoming increasingly clear to you. “Satoru. Engagement. New heirs.”

Your hands found the edges of the sink as you pulled yourself to your feet. You dried your face on a hand towel, forcing your eyes up to meet your own reflection. They were still red, still puffy, but clear enough to hold resolve.

This thing we have together needs to stop.

The thought echoed louder than you’d expected, sharper this time. It wasn’t just about the Council or the rumors of his engagement. It wasn’t even about the weight of the tests hidden beneath the sink. It was about everything that had led to this moment—the tangled mess of your feelings for him and the undeniable truth that you were too far in, too vulnerable to keep going without breaking.

You pressed your hands flat against the counter, staring into your own tired eyes. You would confront him about the engagement. You’d ask him for answers, demand the truth. That would be enough to explain your sudden departure, the barrier you’d thrown up as soon as you got home, the tear tracks still drying on your face.

It had to be.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

As you stepped out of the bathroom, your chest tightened. Doubt clawed up your spine, relentless and unforgiving.

When you faced Satoru, would he see it? Would those Six Eyes strip away the walls you’d built, revealing everything you were desperate to hide?

You’d read about it once, the abilities of his cursed technique. How it saw cursed energy at an atomic level, down to the finest thread. Could it see the thing growing inside of you? Could it see the blood pumping through its fragile, half-formed heart, the life you hadn’t yet come to terms with?

Your trembling hand gripped the doorknob. If he could see it, would he speak it aloud? Would he force the truth into the open before you were ready to hear it?

You drew in a shaky breath. The barrier dissolved with a flicker of cursed energy, and the air grew heavier, dense with his presence.

When the door opened, he was there. No smirk, no teasing glint in his eye. His expression was sharp, serious, and the way his gaze searched yours made your chest ache.

You froze, hand clutching the doorknob, as his cursed energy brushed over you—steady, deliberate, stripped of its usual chaotic edge. For once, he didn’t try to charm his way past your defenses.

"We need to stop." The words tumbled out, rushed and trembling but resolute. Tears pricked your waterline, and you hated how close you felt to breaking.

Satoru sighed, the sound low and weary. “Shi-chan, again? Listen, I know you’re stressed—”

“Are you engaged, Satoru?”

The question sliced through his sentence like a blade, sharp and unforgiving. Your tone wasn’t curious—it was knowing. It froze his words mid-thought, demanding an answer he wasn’t ready to give.

His eyes widened—not in shock, but recognition. The fluster in his expression, the way his mouth opened and closed as if searching for words, the blush creeping to his cheeks—it was all you needed to see.

“Shiori,” he began, his voice softer now, cautious. But you didn’t let him finish.

“Don’t.” Your voice cut through the air between you. “Don’t explain it away. Just tell me if it’s true.”

He ran a hand through his hair, gaze darting between yours and the floor. His silence spoke louder than words.

“It’s not… not true—” he began, stumbling, his usual confidence replaced with something raw.

“I need real answers, Gojo,” you snapped, spitting his surname like a curse. “Real answers, or I will never speak to you again.”

The silence that followed was deafening. His shoulders sagged slightly, tension betraying the storm behind his eyes. “It’s not what you think,” he said quietly, almost pleading.

“Then tell me what it is,” you demanded, voice trembling. Tears threatened, but you held them back.

For a moment, his mask slipped—regret, fear, desperation flickered across his face. But it passed too quickly, replaced by his infuriating charm, now a defense more than a weapon.

“You don’t understand,” he said, words faltering. “It’s just a stupid clan thing, Shi-chan. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“It doesn’t mean anything?” Disbelief laced your voice. “They announced your engagement, and that doesn’t mean anything?”

“I didn’t let them—” he started, his voice rising, but you cut him off.

“Then what did you do, Satoru?” Your voice cracked as you took a step closer, the weight of your emotions crashing over you. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks a lot like you kept it from me. Like you lied.”

“I didn’t lie,” he said, desperate. “I was trying to fix it, okay? I just—I needed more time.”

The tears spilled over. “You don’t get to decide that, Satoru. You don’t get to keep me in the dark and expect me to be okay with it!”

His hands twitched, like he wanted to reach for you but didn’t know if he should. His lips parted, but no words came, leaving the silence to stretch between you.

“I don’t even care if it’s true or not,” you confessed, your voice trembling as the lines of his perfect fucking face blurred through your tears. “I can’t keep doing this with you. Not anymore.”

He flinched, just barely. But you pressed on.

“You need to figure your shit out,” you spat, anger and grief lacing your words. “Go marry a sorceress from a prestigious clan who will give you strong heirs. That’s what they want, right?”

His jaw tightened, yet he said nothing.

“They won’t stop breathing down your neck until you give it to them, Satoru,” you continued, your voice breaking on his name. “So just… just go. This has gone on long enough.”

The silence that followed was broken only by your uneven breaths. You couldn’t look at him, couldn’t bear to see whatever expression he wore.

But you felt it—the weight of his gaze, heavy and unrelenting. It burned through the space between you, thick with unsaid words.

“Shi-chan—” he started, his voice quieter now, but you cut him off.

“Don’t,” you said, shaking your head as more tears slipped down your cheeks. “Don’t try to make this better. You can’t.”

You took a shaky step back, your arms wrapping around yourself as if to hold yourself together. “Just go, Satoru.”

His cursed energy flickered around him, unsettled and restless, but he didn’t move. He just stood there, staring at you with those impossibly blue eyes, his expression torn between defiance and something you couldn’t name.

For a moment, you thought he might argue, might fight you on this like he always did. But then he sighed, a sound that carried the weight of a thousand unsaid words, and turned toward the door.

And when it closed behind him, the silence that followed was worse than anything he could have said.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

See my listing on AO3 for a short short bonus chapter ft. angsty teen Megumi! (´ω｀*) perhaps leave a kudos or comment maybe idk haha >_>

This is Chapter 5 of a multi-chapter fic to be crossposted to AO3. Taglist below as requested. @starlightglimmersworld @mccookiemonster @leilakaro @certainduckanchor @itsbellablue-blog @shokosbunny @megumisthirdog @thegh0stwife @54fangirl @misslovingpearl @idkuluka @bitchycloudstrawberry @pinkpunkdynamite @theclassbookworm @okaywitheverything @7ds4ever

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