JUJUTSU BOYS + POST SHIBUYA HURT/COMFORT
following Shibuya, the Jujutsu boys are in dire need of some comfort
featuring: nanami, yuuji, megumi, maki, inumaki, yuta, gojo
word count: 4.7k (600-700 words per character)
cw: canon divergence for nanami and gojo, season 2 spoilers, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, descriptions of injuries, everyone needs a hug, some fluff ig, established relationships, not proofread
NANAMI
“He woke up,” Shoko informs you, closing the room to Kento’s door behind her. She doesn’t bother with small talk, gives only the necessary information since Shibuya. You don’t blame her. You understand why she would choose to keep her energy for what she thinks is essential. So when she approaches you, hands buried in her pockets, you know there is something she believes is that important to tell you.
“Is he— Has he said anything?”
“He thanked me — you know how he is. But, um— he’s lost an eye, and he’s badly burned. There’s nothing I can do about that. I’m sorry.”
She sounds genuinely dejected, but you shake your head.
“It doesn’t matter. Without you, he wouldn’t be alive. Can I—”
She gives you a faint smile.
“Sure. You can go in.”
You don’t wait for her to have finished her sentence to open the door. Kento looks up at you, and you take him in for a second. An eye patch covers his left eye, and that whole side of his body is burnt, badly, with fresh bandages covering it. It doesn’t stop you from launching himself into his arms, and he catches you without missing a beat.
“You’re alive,” is all you can say, repeating it like a mantra.
“I am,” he answers. “I apologize for worrying you.”
So very like him, apologizing while he’s lying on a hospital bed after suffering from horrific injuries.
“Thank you for coming back to me,” you whisper into his neck, tears rolling freely from your cheeks. “I don’t— I don’t—” I don’t know how I would have kept living without you.
His eye is filled with fondness and love, when he looks at you.
“Does it hurt a lot?” you ask, gesturing at his left side.
“It does not,” he answers. “Shoko’s abilities are quite remarkable for that. I am healed. The bandages are mostly to stop the skin from becoming too dry — due to the size of the area, she couldn’t do it all herself.”
“Then… can I kiss you?”
He swallows around the lump in his throat. If he is honest, when Shoko talked to him after he woke up, one of his greatest fears was that you would be disgusted by him. He knows you find him handsome — found him handsome, at least. He knows that this was thinking far too little of you, and yet relief washes over him at your question.
“You can always kiss me.”
You’re cautious when you do, don’t want to risk hurting him, despite what he’s just told you. Your lips feel like coming home, and he loses himself in you, if only for a moment. All too soon, he feels the need to pull away for air. Even with Shoko’s miracle work, he feels weak, a sensation he finds himself hating with his entire being. He likes being strong, likes being your rock, likes supporting you in any situation. He despises the fact that that has been taken away from him.
“I think it would be for the best if I spent the night here,” he tells you. “The chair isn’t very comfortable, so if you wish to go home, I wouldn’t—”
You shake your head immediately.
“I’m not leaving you anytime soon. I’m spending the night here. I’m sure I can find a pillow and a blanket somewhere, and I will be just fine with that.”
Aren’t you just adorable when you’ve made up your mind?
“If that is okay with you, that’s fine with me,” he nods. “But, first…” He opens his arm on the right side. “Would you join me?”
There isn’t much space in the bed for the two of you, but you make it fit, leaning against the wall so he can have his head against your chest. Even though he wants nothing more than to revel in the moment, he feels his eyes closing, lulled by the beating of your heart and your fingers carding through his hair.
He loves taking care of you but he supposes that, for the time being, it won’t be too bad if he’s the one being taken care of.
YUUJI
Finding Yuuji following the Shibuya Incident requires you to venture into the belly of Tokyo, making your way through curse after curse, stepping over the bodies of sorcerers and humans alike, never taking the time to stop. At least Megumi had warned you that he was likely to keep moving, so you hadn’t given up hope yet, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t afraid for him. Not physically, no, you didn’t think there was anything left here that could actually hurt him, but, based on what Megumi had told you, his head hung low, you can only imagine how devastated he must be.
You spot him when he finishes off a curse, on a rooftop near you. It isn’t long before you land there yourself, and there he is.
“Yuuji!”
He freezes when you call out his name, and turns towards you oh so slowly. When he looks at you, you could almost cry with relief. There he is, your Yuuji. A little worse for wear, but alright. You take a step towards him, ready to run into his arms, when he takes a step back.
A tall man wearing a kimono, his hair tied into two buns, lands in front of him, between the two of you.
“Who is that?” he asks Yuuji. “Do you want me to take care of it?”
There is quiet resolution in his voice. He doesn’t sound like he wants to kill you, but you don’t think he would hesitate to do it.
“N-no,” Yuji says, his voice hoarse. “No, it’s alright, Choso. Would you mind…?”
The man nods, still not showing any emotions.
“Of course. I’ll give the two of you some space.”
He throws you a threatening glance — as if you could ever be a threat to Yuuji — before jumping off the building.
You take another step forward. This time, Yuuji doesn’t move, but he refuses to meet your eyes.
“Don’t,” he says. He sounds weak.
Another step.
“Why not?”
He closes his eyes.
“I’ve killed—” A deep, shuddering breath. “—so many people.”
Step.
“That wasn’t you.”
You say it softly, gently, but you’re not sure that he can hear you, as he is now.
“It’s still my fault.”
His voice is no stronger than a whisper.
“It was Sukuna’s doing.” Step. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” Step.
You’re close to him now, close enough to see his hands balled up into fists, his lower lip trembling, how he scrunches his face so he doesn’t cry.
“Yuji,” you call, and in your mouth, his name sounds like a term of endearment. “It’s not your fault.”
He shakes his head, but doesn’t have anything more to say. He wants so, so badly to believe you, but his heart, his mind, and Sukuna’s voice in the back of his head are all whispering that you’re lying. When you reach him, your hands go up to his face, cradle it like it’s a precious porcelain. You trace the scar on his forehead, stroke the one on his lip with your thumb, and then you press your lips against it with great care.
And he falls apart.
Your arms are around him as he lets himself fall to the ground, and you let him bury his head in the crook of your neck as he sobs, let him hold on to you like a drowning man to a lifeline. You stroke the back of his head gently. The motion is soothing. Soft. Loving.
“I’m a monster,” he chokes, and tears fill your eyes.
“You’re not,” you promise, voice breaking. “You’re not. I love you. I love you. I love you.”
He gasps like he’s breathing for the first time in days, and you keep him there, in your arms. He’s not okay yet — won’t be for a long time. But he’s alive. He’s breathing. He’s moving forward, one small step at a time.
You will be here to support him until he can stand on his own again.
No matter how long it takes.
MEGUMI
Megumi has always been the quiet type. He keeps his feelings close to his chest, lets people in on his thoughts only in spare, carefully chosen sentences. He turns away if emotions overwhelm in, deals with the worst of it privately, would never let anything spill out if he could help him. Emotions are his problems, and he cannot bear the thought of them hurting someone other than him.
Still, you’ve always been able to read him. The softness in his eyes when he looks at Yuuji and Nobara, the smile he doesn’t quite allow to make its way to his lips when Gojo decides to spoil him, the way he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling your back against his chest so he can hide his face in your neck, even if you can spot his ears turning red. The way the corner of his lips turn down, too, when his mind drifts towards Tsumiki, the twitch in his jaw when someone brings up his father, the clench of his fists when he feels hopeless.
You can read him like a book.
He is even quieter when he comes back from Shibuya, and his emotions are expressed even more minutely, blink and you’ll miss it.
You can only watch from the audience in one of the numerous meetings that follow his return. Him and a number of other sorcerers testify, and you have to hear him recounting the same details over and over. You’re here to see, helpless, how he lowers his gaze when several sorcerers recommend Yuuji’s execution, and how his eyes dull when his sentencing is pronounced.
But he never comes to you. At first, you assume he can’t — there are a number of physicals for him to clear. You reason that he must be exhausted, must want his space for now, and resolve to give it to him. It’s on the day of the last council, when he averts his eyes to avoid meeting yours, that you realize what was happening.
He’s been avoiding you.
It’s a half-hearted attempt, one that comes to an end when you knock against the open door to his room. He doesn’t look up at you when he answers.
“Come in.”
His room is almost bare, but you know he keeps pictures from the two of you in his drawers.
You sit on the bed next to him, let your knee brush against his. He doesn’t move away.
“I haven’t seen you since you came back,” you say. You know better than to broach the subject directly, wouldn’t want to spook him.
“I know,” he sighs. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to be. I just came to check in on you.”
He’s quiet for longer than he should be.
“…I have to go back out there. I have to talk to Itadori.”
You read between the lines. You know that he would give you more than that if he felt he could, understand that he is trying to make this as painless for you as he can.
You reach for his hands and squeeze it.
“Okay.”
There’s a pause.
“…you sure?”
You know that’s not the question he’s asking. You know he wants you to feel able to yell at him, protest, scream until there’s nothing left of the two of you, all so that you will feel better, even if he leaves unloved and a little more shattered than he was when he arrived.
“I’m sure.”
The sigh of relief he lets out sounds more like a sob. Next thing you know, he’s letting his head drop onto your shoulder, black hair tickling your neck.
“I’m sorry,” he says again. “I’m sorry. Can I— Can I just stay like this a little longer? Please?”
You keep yourself still, reach up to cup his cheek, stroke it softly.
“As long as you need.”
He moves his head so he can press a kiss to your cheek, lets his lips linger there longer than he needs to. When he turns around, you see he’s turned crimson.
The outside world might have turned into hell, but this room hasn’t yet.
In here, the two of you can hope that simpler, happier times will come again some day.
MAKI
Maki supposes that there are worse ways to wake up than with her head in your lap. By the time she comes to, Reverse Cursed Technique has done its job — mostly. If she could muster it, she would be glad that she wasn’t awake to feel it processing. It’s always felt foreign to her, and she hates feeling it on her body.
What she hates more, though, is the tingling of the burns on her face and body.
“Isn’t there anything to be done about that?” you’re asking Shoko when her eyes flutter open. You’re mindlessly running your fingers over the scarred skin, and it feels fresh and soothing.
“I’m sorry,” Shoko says, sounding exhausted but always taking the time to answer students’ concerns. “RCT can’t fix burns. Non-sorcerers have done some progress in that domain, I think. Maybe she’ll want to look into it.”
“I hope she won’t care,” you mumble.
“Why,” Maki asks, and you look down at her in shock, “is it that bad?”
She pushes herself up, looking around for her glasses, but stops when she realizes both you and Shoko are staring at her, mouth gaping.
“You’re something else,” Shoko finally comments, a tired grin forming on her lips. “Thought you’d be asleep for at least another day. Well, if you need anything, I’ll be in the next room, alright?”
She leaves with a wave of her hand, some of the weight of the past week taken off her shoulders, now that she’s done her work.
When Maki turns to look back at you, you already have her glasses in your hand. You’re careful when you pass the branches over her ears to put them on her, and she lets you do it, studying your expression. Your eyes are red from crying, and you look tired, too, but at least she cannot see any injuries on you.
“So?” she raises an eyebrow at you, and her skin stretches uncomfortably. “Do I really look that terrible?”
You shake your head and smile at her, reaching up to cup her cheek.
“You’re as stunning as always. I’d just hate it if you thought otherwise.”
She leans into your touch, closing her eyes. Her whole body aches. She cannot pinpoint any real physical pain, but there is an overall soreness that she wants to stretch out. She would, if she could bear the thought of losing your touch, if only for a second.
“What about my hair?” she asks, trying to add a playful inflexion to her tone. “Don’t tell me you let them do whatever they wanted with it.”
You shake your head, mirroring her expression.
“It’s like you don’t even know me,” you say with a fake eyeroll. “I’ll have you know it looks super stylish.”
She nods, then turns her head to kiss the inside of your palm. She likes the way it flusters you, how you bite your lip and glance away to hide it from her.
“Do you— do you want to hear about what else has happened?”
Her smile dims, and she shakes her head.
“Can I get a minute of this first?” Her voice comes out hoarser than she would like. “Y-you can tell me afterwards. I just— I just need a minute.”
“Of course,” you reply, softly.
When you open your arms, she doesn’t hesitate a second to plunge in. She rests her cheek against your chest, and you wrap her in a tight hug that she returns without missing a beat. You’re warm and soft, as you always are.
She’ll get back to fighting, to throwing her whole body in the line of fire soon enough, that is a promise. She’ll mourn the dead, she’ll shed tears.
But first, she gets a minute of respite, in the arms of the only person that can give it to her.
INUMAKI
You rush through the emergency room, unbridled fear in your veins. The place is a morgue. There are more dead than living in here, and you’d be horrified if your mind wasn’t focused on one person and one person only — one that you cannot find. Cursed energy is no use right now, not with the place being such a mess.
“Ieiri!” you finally call when you see her passing by, pale as a corpse, not examining a body for more than handful of seconds before moving on to the next. “Where— Where is Toge?”
She looks straight through you. The dark circles under her eyes are even deeper than usual.
“Alive. That way.”
She point vaguely in a direction and then she’s gone, but it’s all you need. You find yourself running, unceremoniously opening and closing doors in your desperate search for him. When you find him, you could almost cry in relief.
“Toge,” you call, and you’re afraid your legs will give in underneath you.
He looks at you with wide eyes — eyes that you love so much, because they always say everything his lips can’t. Despite everything that’s happened tonight, they’re full of life, and that is the sight you’d been hoping for the most.
It’s only after looking inside that you realize what’s happened to his arm.
You walk over to him, sit on the chair next to his bed. He holds his hand out for you to take, and when you do, he squeezes it between his fingers, three times. His own, silent way of saying ‘I love you’. You lean forward, resting your elbows on the bed and hanging your head low.
“I’m so glad you’re okay,” you whisper. “I was so scared.”
You feel his lips on the top of your head, and you cannot help but smile. It feels selfish, smiling in such circumstances, when so many people have lost their lives and their loved ones. But you’re reunited with him, and it is the only reaction that feels appropriate. You look up at him. Without his usual clothes, the seal on his mouth is on full display.
“Do you want a scarf?” you ask, gesturing at your bag. You always carry one, as well as cough syrup, just in case.
Fondness flashes in his eyes, but he shakes his head. Reluctantly, he lets go of your hand to tap on his phone. The movements are clumsy, and a knot forms in your throat, watching him do it, but you can’t think of anything to do to help him.
‘No need,’ the phone reads when he turns it back towards you. And then, after a line break ‘Sukuna attacked.’
You’d hear about that. You… had just hoped it wasn’t true.
“So, Itadori…?”
“Bonito flakes,” he answers, shaking his head. Silence falls on the room.
You usually like silence with him. It feels comfortable, like an old friend you’re happy to welcome. Tonight, though, you feel the need to blurt out “I’m so happy you’re okay.”
His lips turn downward, and he gestures at his arm dejectedly, but you shake your head, and you stand up so you can sit on the bed, by his legs. You grab his hand in both of yours.
“I would take anything as long as it means you’re back here with me. I know— I know it’s selfish, but I just— You’re everything.”
Toge presses his forehead against yours when you start crying. Gently, he frees his hand so he can wipe the tears running down your cheeks. He doesn’t get to express his emotions freely, so you do it for the two of you, that’s how it’s always been between you. That doesn’t stop him from tilting your chin so he can press his lips against yours. The kiss is soft and gentle.
“I love you,” you say for the both of you.
He wishes he could tell you that he hasn’t felt like he’d truly made it back from Shibuya until he saw you walking through the door.
When he kisses you again, he thinks you’re aware of it.
YUTA
“They agreed to entrust me with Itadori’s execution,” Yuta tells you when he finds you, anxiously waiting for him to come out of his meeting with the higher-ups. “I had to take a binding vow, but that won’t be a problem.”
He says it so casually, and you can’t help but sigh. Immediately, his eyes fill with worry.
“Is something wrong?”
You can feel his eyes scanning you, looking for an injury, and that brings a faint smile out of you. As if anything could hurt you here, in one of the last jujutsu strong place in Japan.
“I just wish you wouldn’t have to do that,” you admit with a shrug. “I wish there was another solution.” I wish you didn’t think the weight of the world is yours to take now that Gojo isn’t here to bear it.
“Oh!” He lights up, and you hate that he feels relief, because to him, it is inconsequential as long as it’s happening to him. “That’s okay. You don’t have to worry about me.”
Well, someone has to, since he won’t do it himself. You reach for his hand, fiddling with his fingers, and you can’t help but smile when you feel him freeze. You can’t believe he still reacts to your touch that way, no matter how many times you do it.
“Breathe,” you say, glancing up at him.
He flushes when he realizes he was, indeed, holding his breath.
“Sorry,” he mumbles. He doesn’t have to apologize, but he always does.
“Then I’ll go and keep an eye on Toge and Maki,” you decide. “I heard Maki’s recovering well, but I’ll see if there’s anything more they need. Maybe I’ll help Toge get back to his family.”
Yuta hesitates.
“You don’t— You don’t have to do that for me, you know?”
Ha. Guilty as charged. You’re just trying to take some of the weight off his shoulders so he won’t have to carry it all alone. You wrap your arms around his neck, smile when he turns even redder. He doesn’t move away from you though, and, after hesitating, he even closes his hands on your waist. The touch is feather-light, and you think he’d take them off if you breathed a little too hard. But it’s there, and he’s come a long way, truly.
“I know. I just want to.”
He’s crimson, but his eyes still soften at your words. With a sigh, he leans his forehead against yours.
“What have I done to get this lucky?” he marvels, and he sounds so loving you think you might just melt in your spot.
“You deserve the world,” you answer truthfully.
He lets out an embarrassed laugh that you interrupt with a kiss. His lips are soft and cautious against yours, and he is nothing but tender. You know he’s doing his best to restrain himself, both because you’re in a public space where someone could walk by and because it takes a lot more to get him out of his shell.
“Wh-what was that for?” he asks when you pull away, a pout in his voice.
“For luck,” you hum in reply. “You better come back to me.”
His fingers tighten on your waist. He doesn’t want to let go. If he could shut the whole world out and live only in your arms, he thinks he would do it in a heartbeat. But there are people out there who need saving, and you know even you can’t stop him from going to help them.
“I’ll keep your friends safe until then, okay?”
No matter what you tell him, he still doesn’t think he’s done anything to deserve you. That means he should let go of you, be on his way and wish you well on yours. Instead, in an impulsive move, he wraps his arms tighter around your waist to pull you flush against his chest in a tight hug.
You laugh in surprise and hug him back, and in that moment, he is absolutely certain that there is nothing that could stop him from coming back to you.
GOJO
“Guess who’s back!” Satoru calls when he walks into your home as if nothing’s happened, as if you haven’t spent hours on the phone with various sorcerers, trying to understand what on earth was happening and if he was even still alive.
You turn to look at him with daggers in your eyes, and you want to scream, but you don’t find the words when you take in the sight of him. There’s blood on his face that he hasn’t bothered to wipe off, his clothes are torn, the blindfold he’s holding in his hand is in an even sorrier state, and despite the smile on his face, you don’t think there is a muscle to his body that isn’t in a state a tension.
“Are you okay?” you ask.
He shrugs, walks across the room to grab a towel that he vigorously rubs against his face.
“I’m always okay.”
The sentence sounds empty, and you’re about to go up to him when he drops the towel to move towards the bathroom with a groan.
“It’s not coming off,” he says before splashing his face with water.
You follow him and watch as he repeatedly rinses his face. The blood has long come off, but he doesn’t seem satisfied with it. He pours generous amounts of soap on his hands, but there is nothing more to take off there. You wait a few seconds more before joining him. You still his hand with a pressure of his wrist, clean off the remaining soap, and cut off the water. He lets you do it, just as he lets you guide him back to the bed to sit down.
“What happened?” you urge him, keeping his hands in yours. He feels so far away, even if he’s sitting inches from you, and you’re desperate to bring him back to you.
Long seconds go by before he answers you.
“I made a mistake,” he finally says, words pulled out like teeth. “That’s what happened.”
You would tell him that everyone makes mistakes, but you know what’s prompting this. He isn’t everyone. He doesn’t make mistakes. He is Satoru Gojo, the strongest sorcerer, the one in charge of preserving the balance of the world after he’s irremediably altered it simply from being born.
Your hands come up to his face, and you trace his jaw with careful fingers. He closes his eyes. Lets you ground him. He can’t think of anything else he needs more right now.
“You’ve done so much,” you whisper. “I’ve been talking to Shoko — she says that without you, human losses would be much worse.”
He lets out a humorless chuckle.
“That is always true.”
Coming from someone else, it would sound like bragging, but you know that Satoru is only stating a fact. He always saves the day, which makes this so, so much worse. You climb on the bed behind him, start massaging his shoulders. Despite himself, he can’t help but relax into your touch. He doesn’t feel like he deserves that, deserves the comfort you’re bringing to him, and yet, as always, he’s powerless against you.
“But wasn’t the point always that your students would be able to take over?” you ask, softly. “And they did. They saved you. Sounds to me like you did well, Satoru.”
Did he? Sure doesn’t feel like it.
“Hm, I guess Yuji and Megumi did real well tonight,” he admits, and he lets himself lean back into your arms fully. “Just wish… Just wish it hadn’t turned out like that.”
You press a kiss to his temple, and he sighs. He doesn’t think he will be okay again tonight. Probably not tomorrow, either — maybe not before a long time.
“Do you want me to run you a bath?” you ask.
“Yeah,” he says. “That’d be nice.”
His eyes follow as you walk back into the bathroom.
“You’ll join me?”
A smile flashes on your face.
“Sure.”
He won’t be okay any time soon, but with you by his side, he thinks he can at least try to get there again someday.
thank you for reading! as a note, gojo's piece is written under the hypothesis that he was unsealed but unsealed before the end of the night. I hope you enjoyed these pieces, please consider reblogging and/or letting me know your thoughts in a comment, interactions are the best way of supporting me and of keeping me writing ^-^
more jujutsu kaisen x reader here (primarily gojo x reader)
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Hello, first of all, congrats on 2k followers, you deserve that and more ♡
I would like to request on the option 1, a scenario with Zoro, Sanji and Luffy (and if you can, Law, Ace and/or Kid) where the reader asks "could you hold something for me?", and the reader gives them their hand to hold.
Thank you in advance, hope you have a lovely day ♡
Characters: gn reader x Zoro, Sanji, Luffy, Law
Total word count:700
A Hand to Hold
Zoro
He’s napping on the deck of the Sunny when you stride over to him and sit down next to him
He peeks his good eye open just a fraction of an inch, trying to see what you want.
“Can you hold something for me?”
“Can’t you get someone else to-”
“Zoro!”
“Fine!” He holds his hand out, slightly irritated.
You place your hand into his, watching his reaction closely.
Immediate response? He would just deadpan and stare at you.
“Why? Why did you give me this? Is it bleeding or-”
“No Zoro!” you giggled. “Just hold it.”
“Did Luffy put you up to this? Or Nami? Or that damn-”
“No!” you said, starting to pout. The mood was ruined. “Just forget it.”
As you pull your hand away, he grips it a little tighter. When you look back at him, he’s got a little bit of blush across his cheeks.
“I’ll hold it,” he grumbled, closing his eyes. “As long as it doesn’t interrupt any more of my nap.”
Sanji
As soon as you walk through the door, you can smell your favorite dessert being made.
But Sanji is nowhere to be found.
“Sanji,” you called. “Can you hold something for me?”
“Of course, my love!” he shouted from the pantry, and a moment later he rushes out and toward you.
His hands are empty, already forgetting whatever he was planning to grab in exchange for what you need him for.
He holds his hand out, and when you place your hand in his, he looks at it, confused for a moment.
He’s afraid he had misheard you. “What did you need again?” he asked.
“I needed you to hold something.” You give his hand a light squeeze.
“Your…hand?”
You smile, trying to hold back a laugh. “My hand.”
He crumples to the ground, overwhelmed with emotion. For a second you’re worried you’ve killed him, but he’s still breathing, thankfully.
Luffy
“Luffy!” You shouted to your captain, who was at his seat on the figurehead. “Can you hold something for me?”
He groaned at your request, not wanting to leave his seat. “Come up here and give it to me!”
You joined him at his seat on Sunny’s head and sat next to him, waiting for him to hold his hand out.
“What do you need me to hold?” he asked, looking at you with confusion.
“My hand,” you said, placing your hand in his.
“Oh.” Luffy shrugged, looking back out to sea. “For how long?”
You smiled. “For however long you want.”
“We could make a game out of it.”
That piqued your interest. “A game?”
He grinned mischeviously. “Yeah! Hang on for as long as you can!”
Suddenly he shot his other arm out to the mast, and the two of you flew threw the air, gripping onto each other for dear life.
Law
You walked into his lab, looking for the golden-eyed doctor.
“Law!” You turned the corner to find him measuring out a strange liquid. “Can you hold something for me?”
“Kinda busy,” he mumbles, his teeth gritted in concentration. “Can someone else help you?”
You giggle. “I don’t think so. I can wait,” you said, plopping yourself down on a nearby stool and opening a book.
After a few minutes, he finally turns to you. “What is it?”
“I need you to hold something.” You held your hand out in a fist, as if you were holding something.
“Is this one of yours and Shachi’s pranks?” he asked. But he trusts you (most of the time), and holds his hand out to take whatever you had.
You quickly intertwine your fingers with his, clutching his hand tightly. “Thanks.” You return to your book without another word.
“Your hand?” he asks, nervously glancing back at his project. “Can we do this later? I’m kind of on a timetable with that mixture.”
You frowned. “Fine. But I’m adding interest.”
“Deal,” he said, pulling his hand away and running back to his project.
You were a little hurt, but he quickly realized his error and ran back to you, plopping a kiss on the top of your head before rushing back to the table.
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