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When there is nothing but time in your hands, you start wondering about the line your sense of patience stops and numbness takes over.
Curses are patient because their lives can be long and their reward is worth their years of standstill. Suguru has exorcised plenty places infested by them; some stalk for decades, some even centuries; they wait for their traps to lay results like hunters do their prey. They remain hidden in their turf, disconnected from the world and single mindedly focused on the opportunity that will arise before them.
Another night passes in the jujutsu college and the more days come crawling one after the other, the more he philosophizes that feeling of detachment in search of recreation. All has subconsciously settled into a routine; get up, train, ingest a curse and deal with all the consequences and side effects that entails and the nightly gamble of whether he’ll rest too much or too little.
Rinse. Repeat.
In the nights like this one where he’ll have to pass the nights conscious, he roams around to exhaust himself. He has long given up trying to do anything for his irregular sleep schedule; as long as he’s awake whenever he’s expected to be, it’s more than enough.
“You’re being so weird.” Shouko had told him, like she wasn’t sneaking out to indulge her slowly increasing smoking addiction at the same time and then dragged him to play card games until dawn.
This is one of the shorter nights, tired from all the previous nights’ effect, his feet shuffling upon the wood as he heads to his room as another day is about to crawl in and out like the rest of them.
He lets out a yawn and stops in his tracks when a silhouette is illuminated in front of his room, taken the liberty to open his door and look inside.
“Huh?” he hears.
“Huh?” he responds, equally perplexed.
The figures head snaps back to look straight at him and before Suguru can utter a single word, a black blur comes at him fast and lunges onto him and he ends up with an armful of it clinging without intention to let go.
“Honey, I’m home!” the sound of the familiar voice singing causes him to lose the bulk of tension in his jaw and shoulders.
“Satoru what the fuck?”
“Surprise!” Satoru chirps, clinging his arms and legs tighter around Suguru’s neck and waist. “I came back early!”
“Oh.” He says, his heart and mind in disarray to do anything more.
“Come on! Be more excited!”
In response, Suguru reverts to default nonchalance and rolls his eyes, pats him on the back twice. Smirks in amusement when Satoru clicks his tongue. He buries his face deeper to the crook of his neck, showing no intention of unwrapping himself from Suguru.
“Satoru get off.” He intervenes once his arms are starting to fall asleep, muscles sore from his afternoon training.
“Come on, Suguru! I’m so tired!” He complains like a spoiled young master.
Your room is right next door, he thinks, but truth be told, the wall between their rooms has stopped existing for both of them for more or less two years. If Suguru has also slept over next door in Satoru’s absence, it’s something he doesn’t have to be informed about.
Suguru sighs, closes his eyes to focus on the solid muscle he holds, the bumps of his spine as he runs his hands up and down his back and tune out the smell of curses that is coming from him. It’s faint and no one would even pick up on it, but years of ingesting curses has refined his attunement to find it so overwhelmingly sickening and acidic it’s painful.
With swift movements, Suguru maneuvers Satoru off him before his arms fall asleep.
“At least go take a shower first.”
To his credit, he doesn’t resist much, though he does grab Suguru by the arm, looking at him over his sunglasses, “Join me?” his tone syrupy coy, paired with a suggestive wiggling of his eyebrows and his most charming smile.
“Tough luck, I just took one.” Satoru makes a show of his pout and dejection until he fully understands Suguru won’t cave.
It must have been the fastest shower Satoru, someone that likes to take his sweet time, had taken, almost teleporting to and from before Suguru had time to properly look at his phone. He would be doubting he even bothered, being coy and doing things as he pleased but he knows Satoru can work fast if he puts his mind to it.
There is still leftover moisture in his hair when he lies next to him on the bed, droplets running down his pale skin in a very distracting way.
“Why such hurry?” he asks.
“What do you mean? I want all the time I can get. Besides, I’m hiding so I couldn’t risk running into anyone.”
“This is the first place everyone would come to look for you.”
“If that happens, I’ll just hide under the bed. Wouldn’t be the first time.” He teases, bumping their knees together.
“And how has that turned out?” the both chuckle at that. The picture of Gojou Satoru hiding underneath his plain bed in just his underwear is always an amusing memory to revisit.
Suguru absentmindedly plays with his hair tie, “Where did they send you this time?” he asks.
“All over Miyagi and Fukushima.” he responds, “It was boring as hell!”
Suguru presses his lips into a thin line, holding back the first, impulsive words that come to mind, bitter without a doubt.
Boring, the missions have become to him now. And from what he’s heard from Shouko and others, Satoru has been taken dealing with missions with first grade curses almost exclusively. And he talks like they are small fry.
Together, what feels like a lifetime ago, their missions would be dragging, thrilling, or even fun in a twisted way. Even when Satoru was dragged kicking and whining to solo missions, they were annoying. Boring is a new word, one that has been popping up more and more to them both.
“But!” Satoru perks up and breaks this peculiar line of thought, “When I was in Fukushima, I saw some nice hot springs. We should go together next time for a date.”
Next time practically means a mission together. Like the time before Satoru became the unstoppable force of the jujutsu world all on his own. When they were more of a routine than a rare event- the last one already being far behind in the calendar. As they are now, who knows when the next time will be, if at all?
“Sure.” He can’t help but entertain that spark. It sounds nice. Paradisal; magnificent, unimaginable in this world.
Satoru keeps talking, tells him about all food shops he has raided and full reviews of all the sugary concoctions he’s tried, leaving no details spared. His voice flows around the room, giving it a life that was lacking in his absence. The words he says half register in Suguru’s mind, more focused in gazing upon Satoru’s profile and vivid expressions.
He looks as relaxed and going with his own flow as Suguru has always known him to be, but he can’t help but feel a newfound sense of dissonance that honestly scares Suguru shitless. The limited natural light that illuminates the room make a grand show of Satoru’s pale skin and white hair, giving it an iridescent quality.
Satoru stops mid-sentence and turns to him, brilliant eyes open and fully zeroed in on him. No matter how low the lighting or how deep the night, they always shine the bright blue of the clearest skies, never to know of storms.
Suguru has always wondered how those eyes see the world. Those legendary eyes, so precious that everyone wants to have on their side. He had asked once, long ago in a night similar to this but Satoru’s explanation was as coherent as Shouko’s about positive energy.
However, he never cared much about questioning the way those eyes look at him, what does Satoru see when he looks at Suguru in moments like this- when they are just the two of them inside four walls, seemingly away from the world, or at least a false free breath from their reality. He was sure of what he knew and what he saw in his actions and him beyond that gift of his.
That was then. Then, they were the strongest. Reaching out to Satoru didn’t feel like he was stretching himself thin towards the divine and impossible.
The hollowness uncovered now is desperate to be filled with something, spiraling with questions and answers and facts and realities more disgusting than the taste of curses.
“What’s wrong?” Satoru’s voice cut all of it short, “Stunned by my handsomeness?” he smirks cockily.
The next moment Suguru is straddling Satoru, fueled but the impulse and desperation, elbows on either side of his head and shallowing whatever snark Satoru had ready by fiercely pressing their lips together in a loose definition of a kiss.
Satoru takes a few stunned moments to himself before he responds, but when he does it’s more than enthusiastic. Grips Suguru’s hips tightly and follows his lead, his attempts to take control shut down before he can think about it, until they are both breathless.
Suguru though doesn’t pull away, not by much. His hair falls loose around Satoru’s face like a dark curtain shielding their privacy. Satoru’s pupils are blown wide and dark but the blue never disappears. He chases after his lips, and boiling satisfaction courses through Suguru’s veins, overpowering as lightning.
He presses his lips down his neck, making sure he leaves a lasting mark- to silence and forget the misery which lurks in his head, prowls at his every step and gnaws bits and pieces of him. It has no place here, to this escape and haven.
Suguru he leans to Satoru’s ear, nips at his unpierced earlobe and whispers, “Welcome back.” before back up completely to gaze down his full image.
He tried his best to hide his smirk but fails spectacularly when Satoru lays there underneath him, plaint and gaping like a fish and watching him with eyes like a deer in the headlights.
Seeing the Gojou Satoru, who infuriates everyone with his tongue lose his way with words for even a couple of moments is a rare treat- saved just for him. For a moment, possessiveness completely takes over him.
“What the hell?” are the first words he manages to say and Suguru laughs loudly, more than a bit breathy and more than a bit hysterical, “What the hell is up with the delayed greeting?”
He shrugs a shoulder, “Who said you’re the only one capable of surprises?” he wipes his bottom lip with his thumb and smirks wider when Satoru follows the movement closely. “You should see your face.”
Barely having the chance to catch the sharp edge Satoru’s smile takes, the next moment he’s the one on his back and stared down.
Satoru’s is seriously silent and thus Suguru’s hitch of breath cuts the air in the room along with his pounding heart when teeth and soft, thin lips attack his neck until a noticeable purple mark adorns it, higher than the collar of his uniform or any of his shirts can cover.
“There! We’re even.”
Shouko will definitely give him shit when she sees it, but that’s nothing he hasn’t heard before. He doesn’t particularly mind. Satoru will be more shameless than him, it’s not above him to show off.
They stay like this; legs entangled and an arm still around his waist, fingers toying absentmindedly with the hem of his shirt and occasionally slip under to trace his fingertips against his skin, the other’s fingers entangled with his own. Both his hands are cold and his skin erupts in goosebumps and heat wherever they roam.
Satoru has made himself at home, radiating satisfaction and effortless serenity. Suguru too, has become boneless. The warmth of another body, the sound of another breathing, of Satoru’s- who’s alive and here and his- is better than being alone in different room, different cities.
Besides, Suguru is more prone to fall asleep than Satoru, who not only is a light sleeper, he has a well-rested sleep in places that he feels comfortable with. He assumes that during his time away, he was fairing with spaced out two-hour naps at most.
As expected, the infinite skies hide from him first. Satoru’s breathing is too quiet and subtle for his personality, Suguru has to strain his ears to hear it properly.
In this void of a room, Satoru fills it like colours in half-finished paintings. The sweet aroma settles in the room, the sweet taste lingers on his lips.
With their senses harmonized, Suguru falls asleep in much-welcomed peace and completeness.
The morning he wakes up in feels like the previous dull and crawling weeks were a long dull and crawling dream. Well rested since who knows when, a calm flow of energy flows in his body, as if everything is a bit brighter.
Next to him, Satoru is still asleep but has already begun to lightly stir. It’s impossible not to; their positions have not drastically changed, the only difference is that Satoru indulges his habit to not count for others’ personal space, the whole length of his body touching Suguru.
“Mornin’.”
Satoru makes a noise of utter contempt, buries himself further into the Suguru’s side and hides his face away from the morning sun. Suguru laughs, raspy from sleep but indulges him, until Satoru’s restlessness makes him incapable of staying still anymore.
A loud knock on his door comes before that happens. When they don’t move to react to it, it hits more persistent.
Suguru untangles himself, and Satoru blinks his eyes open to the matching morning sky.
On the other side, he finds Shouko, one hand ready to knock and the other covering her eyes.
“We’re decent.”
“I’ve been burnt too many times already.” She quips back but lowers her hand, “Could have been worse.” She takes a glance on his neck and then over his shoulder to the now shirtless Satoru.
“Wouldn’t mind if you barged in and watched.” Are Satoru’s first coherent thoughts of the day- they are met with two scathing looks of disgust.
Suguru turns back to Shouko, ignoring the raid that’s happening in his closet. “What’s up?”
“Yaga run into me earlier -you know how gross it’s to see your teacher first thing in the morning? – and told me to go find Satoru and send him to his office. This is the first place I looked.”
His stomach twists, shoulders lock straight. “What does he want?”
She shrugs, “I don’t know, I’m not anyone’s secretary. See ya.” She turns on her heel and leaves with a lazy wave.
Once out of sight, Suguru lets out the heavy sigh lodged in his lungs and turns to Satoru, now dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a shirt he found. The pants are definitely his, judging by them not being short for his height, but the shirt is ambivalent. At this point their clothes have spread in both their rooms and the only things that can tell them apart is a case-by-case difference in length and the quality of the fabric. Suguru’s shirt feels luxuriously made.
“The principal’s position has blown up his ego.” Satoru yawns.
“Want some back up?”
The other scrunches his nose, “Not yet. If he can sit on his ass and put others to do his errands, he can wait. It’s real gross seeing your teacher first thing in the morning.” He puts on his glasses. “Let’s elope for a few hours.”
Suguru chuckles but it rings cacophonously in his ears. The sound of his clock ticking becomes deafening even as they depart the room for the lounge area.
They have their usual banter about coffee preferences, with Satoru gagging at the sight of his cup of black coffee and Suguru feeling nauseous about the amount of sugar puts in his. Today it’s more tolerable than usual, having been a couple of days since the last curse he’d ingested.
Which is fortunate because in a worse day, Suguru would not be able to suppress the wave of disgust from the desserts he’d brought but from his trip. They are all either soft pastels or brightly coloured or both of those things and he can picture Satoru entering the bright shops, sticking out like a sore thumb, taller than most, with his white hair, black clothes and ever-present sunglasses, but still making the women inside stop and stare and swoon at him.
“That one is peach flavoured- it’s not as sweet. It even matches with your shitty coffee.” He pushes a plate with a small cheesecake towards him with a smile- softer and private, hand under his chin, expecting his reaction.
And Suguru’s fucking heart skips because he is not a levelheaded as people assume him to be. His affections are subtle, invisible to anyone comparing to Satoru- Satoru always knows and that’s what matters in the end- and it’s been weeks of separation after being attached to the hip for two years and fuck he had missed him more than he had thought.
Satoru will be leaving before noon, and Suguru is so utterly drowned by the peace of half a night plus a couple of hours it’s laughable.
Their time runs out when, finally out of patience, Yaga’s call echoes throughout the premises clearly, even at where Satoru and him are lazing around. Suguru’s heart sinks to his stomach, but it’s a consolation that Satoru looks obviously pissed as well.
They take their sweet time to get to Yaga’s office but the meeting itself last only five minutes, three of which are spent on Yaga shouting his self-important crap more than loud enough for him to hear on the other side of the door.
When Satoru exits, he’s more than a little fed up.
“Where to?”
“Shizuoka.”
“When are you leaving?”
“An hour ago, apparently.” Satoru admits sheepishly, “You should come with me. Make it tolerable.”
Suguru raises an inquisitive eyebrow, “And how I’m supposed to join a mission I’m not assigned in?”
Satoru shrugs, “Like they’ll complain. Two heads are better than one.” He leans in closer, “We can always smuggle you.”
It’s a stupid idea. Suguru would do it.
I’ll be a just as much of a dead weight, he scorns bitterly. The place doesn’t matter, the facts remain the same.
Another piece of him is torn and devoured.
Satoru half-assedly changes into his jujutsu uniform, and together they walk to the entrance and the awaiting car.
He doesn’t walk away immediately, stalling to the last possible moment and instead he chooses to pull Suguru to a tight embrace. Suguru pats his back, smiling placatingly to the flustered, anxious driver.
Stay here, his mind chants, the closest thing to prayer. Stay mine.
“I heard Shizuoka has nice green tea.” Suguru comments casually.
Satoru heads towards the car with slumped shoulders and dragging feet but stops in his tracks just as he opens the door, coming back to pull Suguru to an unexpected and firm kiss.
“One for the road.” He has the audacity to wink at him.
“Go do your job.”
“See you later!” Satoru shouts as the car speeds up, waving madly, half of his body out the window. Suguru wants to play along but his hands are in tight fists inside his pockets and he can only stare with a stiff smile as he disappears from his present.
When the car is out sight does Suguru sigh, shoulders falling. He slowly heads back in the college, staring up at the bright clear sky.
Satoru’s last kiss tasted of peach. It will fade from his mouth within the day. The hickey in his neck will stay a longer reminder but nothing remains permanently. Satoru won’t come back before it’s healed, and by the time the later he promised comes, he can only hope for a reaffirmation of their existence in each other’s lives.
All he can do is wait, pace in that line, not knowing if the impending disconnect is something soothing or wretched.