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Everything was fine, maybe it wasn’t perfect but it was something .
For the first time in his life, Satoru Gojo had found the one thing he was genuinely lacking for a majority of his upbringing. He found love.
To the first person he asked, no, he couldn’t pinpoint exactly when or where or how he had fallen so hard for those passionate eyes that demanded attention and obedience, well kept long black hair that was brushed discreetly every morning at 5 am, and a deep baritone voice that rang in his head until the late hours of the night.
He clenched his fists before desperately clutching at his sides until his hands finally decided on applying pressure to his temples. The pressure was good. The pressure made him forget that night in Okinawa where they walked along the coastline at the middle of the night and how he commented on the beautiful reflection of the stars dancing like shining freckles in his eyes -
He added more pressure, a part of him was seconds away from forgetting everything and following in Geto’s- no - Suguru’s footsteps. With a growl, he grabbed at his sides again and curled into a ball on his bed. Thoughts were continuously swirling in his mind with voices that would never just-
“SHUT UP!” Gojo screamed as he helplessly tried to curl inwards even more. Yes, he sometimes made exorcising curses look so easy but he would kill the first person to say he wasn’t stressed to the brim.
It was one thing to lose his best friend to the same madness he was fighting against every day of his life but… his heart trembled and his hands shook violently. The only person who truly understood, the only person who he could bear to be around, the only person who treated him normally, and the only person who taught him how to love was gone.
“There’s no way that’s gonna work!” Gojo crumbled under the memory that resurfaced.
“That’s pretty arrogant . It’s possible for you , right? Satoru. If it’s possible for you… can you really go around telling people that it’s impossible?” Get- Suguru stood there blank-faced and imposing. It was the first time in a long time he heard him say his surname. Gojo felt discarded and not even worthy of being properly thrown out.
He couldn’t breathe.
“Are you the strongest because you’re Gojo Satoru or are you Gojo Satoru because you’re the strongest?”
Day after day after each cruel and unforgiving day that reminded him that he was weak, too weak to save a friend, that question replayed in his subconscious.
Who am I?
His inner insanity leaned towards- no, yeared to join Geto, y earned to go back to being an unstoppable duo. He’d be the first one to admit he was touch-starved. The only one he would let his defenses down for in the past now received ten times his usual defenses. The anxiety and depression that hit him whenever he was alone always stung deep. It was almost enough to land him into paralytical shock.
His other side… handled things differently.
His muscles ached as he unfurled. He walked over to his apartment window, opened it wide, and leaped out. He gravitated at an unbelievable speed towards Okinawa.
A tourist bar, open, with a barista that didn’t even acknowledge his presence had left “the usual” on the corner of the countertop who was always expecting, always with his palm outstretched for payment in return, and always receiving enough to replace a missing or broken glass.
Gojo took the rosé and left to walk the beach shore for the third time that month. He felt numb, one part the rosé, one part the dried tears on his cheeks, and one part headache.
“Kill me if you want. There’s a meaning to that.”
Gojo let the rosé sink down his throat, threw the glass into the air, and made it skip over the ocean by activating red glow.
His other side sunk farther into the memory, making sure it stayed ingrained in his mind.
He saw the glass skip into the horizon before collapsing on the sand.
Reluctantly, ever so slightly, Gojo removed his blindfold and gazed up at the stars.
It was his only solace despite the tears running down his face for the second time that night.
Inhale. Exhale.
It was like that western comic about a spider superhero he read a while back had said. “With great power comes great responsibility.” No matter what, he couldn’t let go of the Geto from the past. The Shibuya Incident was a testament to how far he was willing to go to show him that saving and protecting humans does matter no matter what he thinks.
“Should we kill these guys? If we do it now… I probably won’t feel a thing.” His own words feel like venom.
“Nah, there’s no meaning in doing that.” His words were his salvation.
“Meaning… is that really necessary?”
“It’s very important… especially for shamans.”
Inhale. Exhale.
He would hold onto his salvation, at least for now.
There was a point where everything was fine. There was a point where something meant everything.
There was also a point where Gojo’s love had meaning.