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Gojo paced around his dorm, feet making light taps on the flooring. Pale fingers tugged at silver hair, thoughts running miles in the brain. He could feel the follicles falling loose, letting the pain distract him from the stifling horror.
His thoughts were a frenzy. Where could he be? Where could he have gone? Why did he just leave? Why didn’t he say goodbye? Was it all a lie? Is it because of him? Gojo couldn’t grasp that he had left. He left without warning, without saying anything at all. Not a whisper.
All I wanted was you.
Gojo’s hand curled into a tight fist, his body rigid. His fingernails dug into his palm. Getou still had yet to return. He was somewhere out there. Possibly injured, or worse, dead. Where is he? Gojo slumped against the wall, sinking to the floor. He curled in on himself, head between his knees.
His sunglasses were long gone, having been thrown across the room upon hearing the news. Suguru’s missing. Gojo dug his nails into his face, attempting to stop the threat of tears. His blue eyes that once were filled with power and unbridled confidence were now swirling in a sea of regret and misery. He clutched his shirt, clawing at his own chest as the throb of his heart made him ache.
“Wherever you are Suguru, think of me… Please.” Gojo’s voice was frail, cracking as he whispered to the rough tatami beneath him.
All I wanted was you.
Gojo peered up at his dull ceiling, old movies playing on the television. A poor attempt to quiet his thoughts. His hair was a matted mess, the previously white beauty becoming a grey mop. Bags were packed beneath his eyes from millions of sleepless nights. Only one thing imaginable on his mind. Suguru. Suguru. Suguru. Suguru. He turned his head to view the TV, eyes blank but mind full. He then looked out the window. The moon and stars lit up the night sky, letting a peaceful glow seep into his room. How dare the sky be so serene when he felt like tearing his eyes out of their sockets?
A soft knock sounded on his door. “Satoru?” Ieiri’s voice waved through the wood, gentle as a fawn in a spring field, careful not to alert any predators.
“Leave me alone.” Gojo muttered, not feeling like speaking.
The knock came again, louder this time. “Satoru, open the door.”
“Leave me alone!” He tossed a nearby pillow at the door, causing a soft thump.
“You shouldn’t stay holed up in your dorm all day… It’s not going to fix anything.” Ieiri sighed, placing her hand against the door.
“What do you know, weakling.” Gojo hissed, raising his voice, not caring if he offended her.
With a shake of her head, Ieiri left Gojo’s door, turning her back and walking away. Gojo groaned and covered his face, grasping at the skin. Biting his lip, he stood off of the couch and began to pace his room. He couldn’t stay still. Suguru. Suguru. Suguru. Suguru. Please come back. He slammed his hand against the wall, suppressing a sob.
“Why… Why did it have to be you?” Gojo’s hand fell limp, sliding off the wall and to his side. He took a few steps back and slumped into the couch, his head falling back so he could stare up at the ceiling. That goddamn ceiling. He had memorized every defect and fracture, by now.
His eyes slid down, staring longingly at the TV through his white eyelashes. Gojo listened to the character on screen. “Get some sleep. Forget the whole thing like a bad dream.” He knew this one, it was the movie Laura. He and Getou had watched the movie together on countless nights. Oh, what a time to be alive.
The sun was beginning to rise as Gojo shut his eyes, exhaustion taking over. Tears having had dried long ago.
All I wanted was you.
When had it begun? All Gojo could do was think of the past now, but he couldn’t place where his feelings for Getou had begun. Gojo shut his eyes and tried to think. Ah. So that’s when. A ghost of a smile ran across Gojo’s features before leaving just as fast as it came.
To Getou, Gojo had never been “Gojo Satoru of the Six Eyes” or “The Strongest Sorcerer.” To Getou, Gojo had always been Satoru. He could still remember the way the noiret would whisper his name into his ear during those long, winter nights. The curl of his arms wrapping around the taller man’s thin frame. He and Getou could talk about everything and nothing all day. They knew how each other felt without even a whisper. One look is all it could be and everything was explained with it. Getou and Gojo could read each other like an open book. Nothing got in their way, it was only fate for them to fall in love.
Love. Gojo wasn’t used to being on the receiving end of that concept. Most hated his very being out of jealousy or they worshipped him as if he were some God. But Getou was different. The love Gojo was given was so gentle, so pure, so real. Every single word he spoke, every emotion he felt was sincere. The tenderness and fondness that was directed his way filled the empty vacuum that preyed upon his soul. It permeated all of his barriers, tearing them down not far from scissors against paper.
That very love had gone too fast. As soon as Gojo was accepting the cozy, safe feeling of Getou, it was ripped from his grip. Like if his candy had been stolen. Not long after, that godforsaken numb space in his heart returned, and it was quick to contort into a morose, torturous melancholy. He couldn’t feel a thing, but at the same time, he felt everything.
He remembers the loud laughter he expressed whenever Getou would become annoyed after he replayed a movie scene multiple times. No matter how many times Gojo had seen a movie, he replayed his favorite parts. Every time. Soon enough, Getou began to do the same, letting all of the details pour into his brain and solidify.
The way Getou’s black tresses fell in waves of oil when he brushed it in the morning. The smooth texture that ran through Gojo’s fingers as he twisted the hair into a beautiful braid. The look that Getou tossed over his shoulder. The trust and deep-rooted pure affection. It could make a stone statue melt into flesh and bones.
Don’t even get him started on the little dates. The way they snuck out during the night, giggling and poking at each other, the thrill of getting caught on their tails. Running to their special spot, allowing the stars to guide their way. Gojo couldn’t count how many times they snuck up their hill and laid in the grass for hours. Staying there till the stars twinkled goodbye and the sun rose from its slumber. Half-asleep stumbles towards the dorms, Ieiri’s knowing glance, missions waiting for them, it was a beautiful routine.
Gojo couldn’t believe it was all gone. Torn from his grasp as if it never had existed. Surely Getou had to reappear. He couldn’t be dead, there was no way. Getou was not weak. He wasn’t, he couldn’t be. It was impossible. Gojo covered his eyes which seemed to have him cursed from the beginning. If only he was born into a different family, he wouldn’t have met Getou. He wouldn’t be feeling this despair. Yeah, if only he hadn’t met Getou he would be soaring.
No.
No, that’s not right. Without Getou, who would’ve Gojo become? What would his life be like? Would it still be bright like it was with Getou around? Impossible. Getou was the only star in his night sky. The very same sky that matched Getou’s streams of ink.
Gojo curled in on himself, his breath was heavy and jagged. The dark void of his room coiled around his torso, clenching and tightening its grasp around his heart. It pulled and tugged at the strings as tears bubbled in Gojo’s sky blue eyes.
All I wanted was you.
Gojo’s feet were heavy on the stone beneath him. The time had come to exorcise the curse known as Getou Suguru. The title felt awkward in his brain. Getou? A curse? The pain stung Gojo in his worn-out heart. It’d been years since he last saw the man who used to kiss him goodnight. His lean fingers trembled in his pockets as his hands clenched into fists.
He felt his breath stop as he saw him leaning against the opening to an alleyway. Gojo could feel the blood rushing in his body as it drained from his face. He was here. He was alive. He wasn’t dead. But he had changed. Getou had been corrupted by the heavy cross that all sorcerers were cursed to endure.
“You’re late, Satoru.” His name on Getou’s tongue made him melt all over again. That tingly feeling raced from his toes all the way up to his nose. Gojo closed his eyes, he couldn’t fall victim to the love he held for Getou. Not now, and never again.
“Any last words?” Gojo wanted to get this over with. He needed to get this over with. His heart ached to watch Getou’s blood as it stained the stone he stood against.
Getou chuckled half-heartedly. “In a world like this, I can’t laugh from my heart at all.” The noiret stared at his lap, waiting for Gojo to strike. But he didn’t.
“Suguru.” Gojo inhaled, it was now or never. “All I wanted was you.” The words felt bittersweet on his tongue as he spoke. The tremor in his voice told it all. His eyes were filled with a love nobody could replace or replicate as Getou’s solemn face broke into a grin.
“At least curse at me a little at the very end…” Getou leaned his head against the wall. His eyes gleamed up at Gojo, a passionate flame residing in them. Despite having killed multiple and destroying his previous moral compass, he couldn’t seem to shake the affection he held for the tall man. It persisted and wouldn’t let go. The devotion swirled around his heart like a raging sea.
When it was all over, Gojo felt numb. His fingertips ached and throbbed as he held Getou in his arms. The body was lifeless and dull. Just a husk of what he used to be. Gojo could feel the lump in his throat growing. He didn’t want to cry, the tears that threatened to spill were menacing.
Rain began to patter at his feet. What perfect timing. He could cry his sorrows out and nobody would even know, not even his deceased lover in his arms. The tears rolled down Gojo’s face with a seething fervour. A shattering wail fell out of Gojo’s lips. It lit a fire in the rain as it plunged across the ground and flooded across his soul.
...
Once again, Gojo holed himself up in his dorm. The days that passed by were all the same. The sun was bleak and the stars were dim. Gojo’s heartbeat was slow and his room held a heavy gloom that warded off anybody attempting to pull the man out of the shadows.
The television’s static was all Gojo could fathom to hear as it rang in his ears and penetrated his thoughts. The wall before him painted a happy life where he and Getou were cherishing each other like they used to. The unbroken smiles and laughter that rode in the wind. But then Gojo rolled over and it was all gone. Snapped out of his brain, just like that.
Gojo watched his ceiling fan spin. He wanted to think. He wanted to feel something. But he couldn’t. His brain was refusing to cooperate, but he didn’t even feel anger. Just a vacuum of nothing. He brought his hands up, examining the calluses and bones. He had noticed he had gotten thinner, just as Getou used to during the summer. His lips trembled as those very hands clutched at his head. Gojo tugged at his unwashed hair, clenching the strands between his fists and yanking them. Feel something. Feel it. You know you deserve the pain. He gritted his teeth as he gave in to the sting and drifted asleep; however, the cumbersome dreams awaited his presence on the other side.