mitskisdiary

[mitskisdiary]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖𓂃.☘︎ ݁˖ ᴀꜱ ɪꜰ ᴡᴇ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ʙᴜʀɴᴇᴅ

word count: 627

pairing: satoru gojo x reader

content: emotional heartbreak, unresolved feelings, past situationship, soft pining, lingering tension, denial

author's note: this is soft in the worst way. it’s about being the one who remembers too much, while the other pretends it never happened. i imagined a quiet afternoon, the kind that aches because everything looks like it used to, but feels completely wrong. gojo is distant, unreachable, beautiful. and you’re still there. still pretending this is enough. no dialogue-heavy confessions. just closeness that hurts. enjoy </3

He still texts you like nothing happened.

Still sends memes at 2 AM, still tags you in videos that remind him of you—of your sense of humor, your childhood fears, the way you once confessed you cried during Spirited Away. He remembers the small things. The dangerous things.

But he doesn’t remember your mouth on his. Or if he does, he pretends not to.

You sit across from him on a Tuesday afternoon, in the courtyard where the hydrangeas have started to bloom in messy blues. He’s leaning back in the grass, arms stretched behind his head like he owns the sky. His blindfold is off, but he’s not really looking at you. He never really does anymore.

You laugh at something he says—an old habit, maybe. Your mouth moves, your voice joins his, but your mind is elsewhere. Somewhere between the softness of his touch and the distance he wears like a second skin.

There was a time when he held you like you were the only thing tethering him to the earth. Now he’s all float again. Light. Untouchable. A friend.

You are back to friends.

Not by choice, not really. But by his silence. By the way he changed the locks without warning, leaving you with keys that no longer worked.

You still remember the night it ended. Except it didn’t end, exactly. It just unraveled. Quietly. A seam undone.

He kissed you like he was afraid of what it meant. You kissed him like you didn’t care. Like maybe love could fix the wreckage of him. You were wrong, of course. But back then, it felt holy.

Now, he offers you the last bite of his sandwich and calls it love. You take it. You chew. You swallow everything you want to say.

At night, you lie awake thinking about how his voice used to drop when he said your name. How it used to mean something.

He never says your name now. Just "you." Just "hey." Just vague syllables that could belong to anyone.

You think maybe that’s what hurts most.

Because you remember everything.

The way his hands trembled once, just barely, when you touched the scar on his chest. The way he fell asleep in your bed, just once, and didn’t flee at dawn. The way he almost said something real, one night on the roof, when the world was sleeping and his guard slipped just enough for you to believe he might stay.

But he didn’t.

And you didn't ask him to.

You told yourself you were fine. That friendship was better than nothing. That being near him, even like this, was worth the ache.

But now he sits across from you in the warm grass, sunlight dancing on his lashes, and you wonder if he feels it too—the hollowness of what was curled inside what is.

You wonder if he notices that your laugh doesn’t reach your eyes anymore. That you flinch when he brushes your hand too casually. That you haven’t called him Satoru in months.

Because names mean things.

And he’s not yours anymore.

He never was.

You look at him, really look, and realize something cruel: he’s beautiful even in your heartbreak. Maybe especially in it. Like a sunset you can't touch. Like a ghost who still leaves fingerprints on your skin.

You close your eyes for a second too long, trying to shake the memory of his body pressed against yours. Not in lust—but in the quiet moments after, when he let himself be soft.

When you were more than this.

When you weren’t pretending.

He tosses a stick at you and grins. You smile on instinct. You joke back. You are a good friend.

You are back to friends.

And it’s killing you slowly.

✧･ﾟwritten by @prisvvner ⊹ dividers by @/enchanthings 

⛓️ do NOT repost, steal, translate, or claim as your own.

🖤 reblogs are love — theft is not.

[mitskisdiary]

[mitskisdiary]

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