Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When Gojo Satoru is born, the once carefully maintained balance of the world shifts. With a child born with both Limitless and the Six Eyes techniques, the battle against curses has suddenly been tipped very clearly in favor of the humans. The Gojo clan celebrates their surprise advantage over the other two great clans because Gojo Satoru is to be their salvation.

The Kamo clan and the Zenin clan both offer their congratulations behind carefully maintained masks, while cursing his birth behind closed doors. The Cursed Spirits have no such reservations, and openly attempt to kill him in order to gain an advantage over the Jujutsu Shamans. But the Gojo clan guards him carefully. Their members are ordered to give up their lives for Satoru because he is the single greatest weapon to have graced their halls in hundreds of years.

As soon as he can stand up on his own, Satoru’s father and the other elders in the clan make sure to instill in him exactly what his existence means, while his mother watches proudly by the side. Satoru’s birth had elevated her status from a simple mistress to the wife of the Gojo clan head.

He is to be a dutiful son, turn the tides of the war against curses and most importantly, raise the prestige of the Gojo clan against the other two Great Clans. Satoru’s father tells him he is strong, the strongest in fact, and as the strongest he has certain obligations. Obligations to his clan, obligations to other shamans, and obligations to the world as a whole. Satoru takes in his father’s words with the innocence of a child who believes the adults around him can do no wrong, his blue eyes wide with awe as he realizes his importance.

He is raised like a prince; doted on by everyone he meets, and his existence is praised by shamans everywhere. So, it’s no surprise that he gets a little full of himself. Satoru is the strongest after all, and it’s the duty of the strongest to look after those that are weaker. It’s a little egoistical of him, but that type of attitude is to be expected of the pride and joy of the Gojo clan.

The strength of techniques such as the Six Eyes and Limitless, whose existence have been known for generations is that even though outsiders know about them, the previous holders are also able to pass down how to control the technique to their descendants. So, on the day he turns six years old, Satoru’s training begins. Every day he is woken up at the crack of dawn for physical training, the likes of which no child should ever have to endure. And even after he was beaten, bruised, and bloody, his training didn’t stop. It simply shifted to his techniques instead. But Satoru persevered, even when he began to cough up blood, because it was the duty of the strong to protect the weak.

His father praises him to anyone who would listen, sings about how strong his son is becoming and Satoru smiles through the aches and bruises. There’s an undercurrent of expectation in his father’s every word, the expectation that he will be an alpha but Satoru ignores it. He ignores how his father stares at him with a gleam in his eyes, not quite the type of look he’s seen other parents send their children. He ignores how everyone in his clan barely ever call him by name, despite their adoration of him. He ignores the dirty stares and curses that the children of the other clans send his way. He ignores how often his own mother forgets his name. Satoru ignores and he endures. Because Gojo Satoru is the Strongest Jujutsu Shaman to be born in generations.

On the day he turned twelve, the balance of Satoru’s world shifts. He wakes up with a burning fever, there’s a fire alight in the pit of his stomach and he can’t bear to let anything touch his skin. He frantically throws the covers off of himself and scrambles to the bathroom, turning the shower tap down to almost freezing. Satoru throws himself into the tub fully clothed, too out of it to pull off his clothes and turns his face towards the stream of water. He starts shivering, but that doesn’t make any sense because the fire in the pit of his stomach is only burning hotter. In the back of his mind, Satoru registers the pounding at the bathroom door but he’s too busy cradling himself in his arms, trying to figure out why his body seems to be attacking itself. The air is heady with the scent of his presentation, because that’s what it is he realizes, but it’s nothing like the scent he’s been told to expect. The door rattles open and he turns his head to see his mother standing in the doorway, hand clasped over her mouth.

Satoru reaches out a shaking hand and croaks out, “Mother.”

His mother flinches, and quickly turns around in the doorway and runs. Satoru’s vision swims. He can hardly keep his eyes open, so he lets them fall trying to forget the terror in his mother’s eyes.

When he wakes up, someone has changed him into dry clothes and carried him to bed. One of the servants, most likely. His body no longer feels as if it’s trying to burn itself from within, but Satoru’s muscles are sore as if he’d gone through a full day of training. He forces himself to sit up in bed, and his eyes land on a note sitting on the table beside him next to a small bowl filled with two pills. He swallows the pills dry without looking at the note and drags his legs over the side of the bed. Satoru stands up carefully, still not quite sure if his legs will take his weight, ready to brace himself if needed. He stumbles towards the door and slides it open, peering out into the long hallway. He can hear muffled yelling coming from the main room that sits at the end, and he creeps down the hall, testing each floorboard before stepping down. He can hear the yelling grow stronger as he makes his way closer to the screen door, their voices are so loud he doesn’t even have to stand next to it to hear them.

His father’s voice claws through his ears. “What the hell is that? Why the fuck is it an omega?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know,” his mother sobs.

“Did you cheat on me? Were you whoring yourself out to some beta on the side?”

“No, I promise, you were the only one! There was no one else!” His mother’s voice is frantic, desperate to convince his father that she didn’t cheat. There’s a crash, and then the soft sounds of his mother crying reach his ears.

“You better pray that’s true. First thing I’m gonna do tomorrow before the meeting with the elders is get that thing tested. And you. Pack your bags and get out of the house. You’re no longer welcome here.”

The sliding door slams open as his father makes his way out into the hall. The older Alpha’s eyes land on him as he heads towards the exit, and Satoru almost flinches with how much hatred he sees in them. He stiffens as his father’s pheromones hit his nose, no longer the familiar scent of an affectionate parent, and all he smells is the putrid scent of danger, danger, angry alpha, placate, run. He huddles against the wall, slamming a hand to his face and desperately resisting the sudden urge to bare his neck in submission until his father leaves without acknowledging him, and the air no longer feels thick with tension. Satoru drags himself to his feet and heads into the room while bracing himself against the wall. His mother is sitting on her knees in the middle of the room, face cradled in her hands, shoulders shaking with soft sobs. There’s a vase cracked on the floor, the source of the crashing sound from earlier.

Satoru wobbles towards her, falling onto his knees next to his mother and reaches out a hand to touch her. Before he can blink, his face is turned towards the wall beside him, cheek throbbing with pain. It takes an embarrassingly long moment for him to realize that his mother had struck him.

“This is all your fault,” his mother grits out.

Satoru says nothing, and simply clenches his fists as she stands up abruptly and rushes out of the room, leaving him behind. He doesn’t know how long he sits there, staring at the shattered remains of the vase. But Satoru doesn’t cry, because he’s the strongest after all.

“Master Gojo, it’s time to eat,” a voice calls out to him. When he turns to the doorway, the servant is already gone. He pulls himself to his feet and instead of going to the dining room and facing the disgusted gaze of his father, he stumbles back to his room. Satoru throws himself onto the bed and curls into a ball beneath the covers. He does not let himself think about the future, he does not let himself think about how his father will look at him tomorrow, and he does not let himself think about what will happen to his mother now that he’s turned out to be a failure. Satoru lets his exhausted body relax and slips into a restless sleep.

* * * * *

The next day, Satoru finds himself sitting in a rickety chair in the middle of a dark room, lit up only by a shaky yellow lamp at the roof. He is surrounded by paper screens, and behind each sits an elder of the Jujutsu world. Satoru’s father stands next to him, one hand clenched tight on his shoulder with his grip only growing tighter by the second.

“What do you mean-”

“An omega? How?”

“This is outrageous-”

“There’s no way-”

“And he has both the Six Eyes and Limitless?”

“I told you nothing good would ever come out of mixing with commoners-”

“-tainted blood-”

“He’s twelve, right?”

“What about mating him off? Surely one of his pups could inherit his techniques.”

Satoru stiffens as he feels their gazes finally land on him, inspecting his body like he’s up for auction. Their eyes feel as if they’re digging into him, cracking him open to see if he has any worth left to them.

“What about Naobito-”

“Now wait just a minute-”

“If the Zenin clan wants an advantage-”

“I think the Kamo clan-”

Satoru clenches his fists so hard they bleed as he listens to men old and wrinkly enough to be his grandfather decide his fate, helpless to do anything as his frustration and anger build. He stares down at his knees as he bites his lip, vision blurring as he feels his eyes fill with tears that he refuses to let fall. Ah, he thinks to himself. So, this is what it feels like to be weak.

His father interjects and ends the meeting soon after, but not without promising to continue the conversation about Satoru’s future spouse at a later date which sends a chill down Satoru’s spine. He is marched home while his father refuses to even look at him, and no one from his clan calls out to him like they did before when they pass them. Word had spread quickly and they, too, know of his shame now.

Satoru is no longer trained by his father and his tutors don’t come to his bedroom anymore to teach him his school subjects. When an elderly lady, smelling faintly of milk and honey, first comes to his room and tells him that she’s here to teach him about omegan etiquette, he almost screams. But Satoru grits his teeth and lets her in. He endures.

The woman, Hanako-san, is an alpha herself. But not like any other alpha he’s ever met. There’s no useless posturing for one thing, and her scent is not overwhelming to his nose. But there’s a quiet strength to the woman despite her age, a steel in her spine that tells everyone who meets her that this is now a woman you want to cross.

She teaches him of the changes his body will soon be going through, how his needs and wants will change in the future. She tells him about omegan biology and physiology, how his body will prepare itself to form a womb soon. Hanako-san lectures him about heats, how every month after he turns seventeen his body will go through a period of fertility during which he’ll crave sex. and how important it is for him to learn to control his scent. But most of all, Hanako-san teaches Satoru about physical touch and how important it is for his developing body. Hanako-san says that every growing child should have plenty of physical affection in their life, hugs, kisses, cuddling but it’s especially important for omegas since they’re the most physical of the designations. But any parent who loves their child should shower them in physical affection, in her opinion.

Satoru thinks back to his childhood and is startled when he realizes he can’t remember a single time his mother had hugged him, or his father had patted his back for a job well done. So, the first time Hanako-san ruffles his hair affectionately, Satoru flinches. Hanako-san simply looks at him with her kind eyes, as if she knows everything from his one move, and Satoru nearly bursts into tears right then and there. But he does not, because Gojo Satoru is the strongest, and instead he simply turns away and stares out the window in the hopes that she’d stop looking at him.

But Hanako-san is someone with plenty of love to give, and with three children and eight grandchildren, she has plenty of experience giving it out. Despite his best efforts, Satoru finds himself leaning into her touches, protesting weakly when she tugs him into her one-armed hugs. His body seems to crave the touch, instantly soothed in the older woman’s presence. He sleeps easier on the days Hanako-san comes for their biweekly lessons, and smiles more freely with the older woman around. He feels stronger, more confident with the affectionate praise she heaps on him and Satoru begins believing that it might not be so bad being an omega.

He doesn’t know how it happens, but one day when he comes in for his lessons with Hanako-san, there’s a beta servant there instead.

“Good morning young master, I am here to inform you that Hanako-san will no longer be coming for your lessons.”

Satoru is confused, “What do you mean? Is the old lady alright? Did something happen to her grandkids?”

“No Young Master, after watching one of your sessions with Hanako-san, the Clan head decided that she wasn’t a suitable teacher for you.”

Satoru feels his blood run cold. His father had seen him with Hanako-san? Had he done something to the older woman? He jolts up in his seat and rushes out the door and towards his father’s study. For the first time since he presented, Satoru confronts his father. He quickly jerks open the door of the study and bursts in, words falling out of his mouth despite the literal wall of pheromones he runs into.

“What the fuck did you do to the old lady?” He demands.

His father sits behind his wooden monstrosity of a desk, calmly doing his paperwork despite Satoru’s abrupt appearance. The silence grows uncomfortable, and just when Satoru is going to speak again, his father sets aside his pen and looks up at him. When his father locks eyes with him, Satoru almost flinches from the emptiness in his gaze. There was never any love in them, Satoru never deluded himself into thinking there was, but there wasn’t any pride, or even disgust in them anymore. Satoru’s father simply didn’t care about him. He might as well be an ant to this man.

“I dismissed her from our employment.”

Satoru drops his shoulders, a weight taken off his chest now that he knows that nothing serious had happened to the old woman. “Why? What did she do wrong?”

His father raises an eyebrow, “She was encouraging weakness in you. Just because I don’t expect anything from you anymore doesn’t mean I want you to grow soft. I still have plans that you’ll be useful for. You are dismissed.”

“But-”

“You are dismissed.”

Satoru flinches, but turns away and quickly walks out of the study and up to his room. He throws himself onto his bed and curls up in the covers. Hanako-san is alright though, and he takes a small comfort in that thought.

After Hanako-san leaves, Satoru is left to his own devices. His father doesn’t bother him, and the servants call out to him from time to time, but other than that, he is left alone. Satoru decides to continue his training except he’d do it alone. He goes out for morning runs, trains against the practice dummies, and at night, he pours over the diaries that previous Gojo clan members had written about Infinity and Limitless. He struggles to make sense of them without the help of his tutors, but Satoru is determined to figure it out, with a small part of him still hoping that his father will see the error of his ways. Because Gojo Satoru is still the strongest.

* * * * *

On the day Satoru turns fifteen, he comes home from the store carrying bags filled to the brim with sweets to an empty house. Which is surprising because while his home is never bustling, there were usually a couple servants around, doing menial tasks. He puts it out of his mind though, looking forward to unpacking the candy he’d bought earlier.

When Satoru walks into the hall leading to his bedroom however, he freezes. There’s tension in the air, and an itch behind his eyes that warns him to be careful. There’s something wrong here. He gently sets down his bags and slowly walks forward, carefully controlling his steps. Satoru reaches the door of his bedroom and instantly there’s alarm bells going off in his mind as he smells the overwhelming and unfamiliar pheromones seeping out from his door. Satoru slowly slides the screen open to find an older man sitting hunched over with his chin propped against his fist on his bed. He looks to be in his mid to late thirties, with brown hair, a fit body, and an unmistakable alpha presence. The man looks up when Satoru opens the door and slowly smirks, looking him up and down. Satoru shudders. The man’s gaze feels disgusting.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He scowls, determined not to let the other man see how unsettled he was.

“You the Gojo boy? This job might be more pleasant than I expected,” the man drawls out, slowly standing up.

There are alarms ringing in Satoru’s head, but he refuses to be intimidated by this man, drawing himself up and glaring at him.

“Again, who the hell are you and what the fuck are you doing here?”

The man shifts, and Gojo stiffens as he feels the pheromones he releases saturate the air, muddling his consciousness. Hanako-san had warned him about this, how an alpha’s pheromones would have certain effects on him.

“You don’t need to worry your pretty little head about that, omega.” The man begins to walk towards him.

Satoru begins to panic, his muscles aren’t listening to him anymore. They feel sluggish, as if he’s trudging through mud, while the alpha in front of him walks normally. His panic begins to grow as the man comes closer and closer until he’s standing right in front of him. The alpha reaches out a hand and rests it on Satoru’s chin, and he flinches his head back violently while his body stays in place.

“What a shame I’m not allowed to mark you though,” he mumbles.

Satoru is shaking at this point, petrified at the implication of what the alpha is going to do to him. His brain is screaming at him to run but his body won’t listen. The alpha in front of him suddenly grabs him by the back of his neck, claws digging into the sides.

“What’re they gonna do though? A chance like this is too good to pass up,” he laughs.

Satoru watches as the man leans in towards his neck, his mind flashing back to Hanako-sans teachings about how a mating bond was supposed to be done between two people who love each other. That it was something sacred, something beautiful. He can feel the alpha’s putrid breath on his neck, the tips of his canines touching his mating gland when suddenly his mind goes blank.

When Satoru finally comes to, who knows how many hours later, his room is a massacre. There is blood across the walls and soaked into his bed sheets. The alpha’s guts are spilled across his floor, while brain matter decorates the roof. There is an eyeball under his bed, and all that remains of the man who attempted to assault him is his body from the waist down. There is warm blood soaking his clothes as well. Satoru feels the candy he ate on his walk home rushing up his throat and he slips and scrambles to the bathroom, barely managing to brace himself against the toilet before throwing up. His stomach heaves, even after there’s nothing left to puke, acid burning the back of his throat. Satoru is shaking, the adrenaline still pumping in his system, so he doesn’t crash quite yet. He hears footsteps from the entrance of his room, and he whips his head over to see his father picking his way over what remains of the alpha.

Despite their limited contact recently, Satoru feels relieved; he prepares to call out to his father, tell him what happened so that he can find out which one of the other two Great clans ordered this disgusting act.

“Tch. This is what I get for using mercenaries. They never get the job done right.” His father wrinkles his nose as he shakes a foot to get rid of some blood stuck to the bottom of his feet, still not acknowledging Satoru’s presence.

Satoru’s blood runs cold. His father knew. His father knew what was going to happen. His father had ordered this alpha to assault him.

“Why,” he manages to croak out through his shredded throat.

His father finally looks at him with those empty eyes and considers his question for a second. “You were becoming too soft. I didn’t want your pups to inherit that weakness.” With that, his father turns and leaves.

Satoru is frozen at first, he doesn’t know how to react. He feels rage building in the pit of his stomach, furious at the man in front of him. But most of all, Satoru feels furious at himself. When did he allow himself to become so weak? To become so soft? He had been enduring for so long, begging for the approval of a man that couldn’t care less for him that he’d forgotten what it had felt like to stand up for himself. It also didn’t escape his notice that everyone in the clan had known about his father’s plans, and none of them had thought to warn him of it.

Satoru was done. He was done playing nice, done following the rules, done trying to please his father as well as every other shaman. He was no longer going to train to protect those weaker than him. Why were they entitled to his protection? His blood, sweat and tears when they would’ve just stood aside and allowed him to get violated? Instead, Satoru was going to train to protect himself. Because Satoru Gojo was the strongest after all, and he didn’t need to play by anyone else’s rules but his own.

After that day, Satoru becomes more jaded and pushes himself harder than ever before. He trains his body until he coughs up blood and stays up late reading about his cursed techniques until he gets a headache. He sharpens his softness until he no longer has to worry about incidents like the one that started it all. His cursed techniques grow in strength until he’s at the point where, most of the time, no one can touch him without his explicit consent. There’s just one aspect of his body that Satoru doesn’t acknowledge. He ignores the omegan needs of his body, especially touch and he swallows pills to delay his heats for as long as he possibly can despite the adverse effects they may have on his body.

Satoru knows that if Hanako-san were to see him now, she’d frown and scold him in that soft voice of hers, tell him that ignoring his body’s needs was unhealthy, and that every growing child needs plenty of touch. But the omega side of himself had brought Satoru nothing but heartache and pain every time he’d acknowledged it in the past. He simply can’t bring himself to care about that part of himself anymore, the terror of that day with the alpha still sharp in his mind. Sure, he doesn’t sleep as well as before, he’s irritable and tired all the time. But most of all, he’s safe.

And Satoru is fine with that. He’s never had any problems; in fact, he even tells himself that he prefers it that way. Satoru keeps everyone he meets at an arms length with snark words, cruel comments and a haughty indifference. He hardens his heart to any attempt from students and teachers alike to reach across his barriers because showing vulnerability is like practically begging someone to hurt him. And it works for a long time, until he meets an alpha named Geto Suguru in his second year at Jujutsu Technical College and all of the carefully constructed barriers in the world couldn’t save his heart from falling for that boy.

Chapter Text

Satoru is leaning back in his seat, chair carefully balanced on its two back legs when Yaga-sensei comes into the classroom, his alpha scent completely undetectable due to the man's skills at controlling pheromones.

“Satoru, sit properly. Shoko, put the cigarette out,” Yaga-sensei calls out reflexively, not really expecting either of them to listen.

Satoru simply raises an eyebrow and pushes the chair even further back, making his previously stable balance more precarious. Beside him Shoko takes an even longer drag of her cigarette before blowing out a small cloud of smoke.

Yaga-sensei takes his place at the front of the room, rustling through the papers he’d brought with him, “I have an announcement to make. You two are getting a new classmate.”

Satoru listens with one ear, focused on trying to balance his chair on one leg now instead of two. He’d known something was up, it was hard not to with the teachers talking in hushed whispers, conversations cutting as soon as they noticed a student walking by.

“Come on sensei,” Shoko drawls, leaning back in her chair. “Don’t leave us hanging.”

“His name is Geto Suguru and he’s an alpha,” Yaga-sensei responds, finally looking up from his papers.

Satoru snorts, adjusting his weight so that he can stay balanced. “Of course he is. The higher ups are too outdated to allow otherwise. What clan is he from?”

“Kamo, Zenin, Gojo, Inumaki, Gakuganji, Amanai, some other minor clan,” Shoko lists out.

“He’s not from the Gojo clan,” Satoru frowns. “I would’ve known about him otherwise. To be honest, I’d be fine with anything except a Zenin. I hate those motherfuckers.”

“He’s not from any of the clans. He’s a former civilian,” Yaga-sensei answers.

Satoru loses his balance at the older man's words, chair falling forward onto the floor with a loud thud. Beside him, Shoko pulls out her cigarette and raises an eyebrow.

“He must have one hell of a cursed technique if the higher ups accepted him without a fuss, alpha or not,” Shoko laughs.

Yaga-sensei grimaces, “He really does.”

“Well?” Satoru prods, tone laced with impatience. “Don’t leave us hanging.”

Just as Yaga-Sensei opens his mouth to answer, the hair on the back of Satoru’s neck stands up and a feeling of dread creeps down his spine. Immediately he jolts up from his seat, the Six Eyes sending warning signals directly into his brain that there’s a large amount of energy that feels incredibly similar to a cursed spirit nearby. But how did it get through the school’s defenses without triggering any alarms? In fact, how did it manage to get so close without him detecting it?

As he’s tensing up and preparing for a battle, Yaga-sensei waves him down with a sigh. “It’s ok. That should be him.”

Satoru's eyes widen in disbelief, “That’s the new student? Are you sure those senile old geezers didn’t accidentally admit a cursed spirit to the school?”

Beside him, Shoko tenses as she also feels the energy and lets out a low whistle, “Damn.”

“He has a very . . . unique cursed technique,” Yaga-sensei settles on.

Despite his best efforts, Satoru’s Six Eyes refuse to get the memo that they’re not in danger. Which is why when he sits back down he’s still jittery, hands clutching his knees as he grits his teeth against the onslaught of warning signals that continue to get louder. In the back of his mind, Satoru can feel the energy moving closer until it’s right outside the door to the classroom.

There’s a polite knock and Yaga-sensei calls out a brisk, “Come in.”

When the new student walks in through the door, Satoru feels the instincts he’s worked so hard to suppress perk up in interest. He’s managed to get it under control now, but when Satoru had felt the other boy’s cursed energy earlier it had felt fractured, yet enormous. Satoru had also gotten the slightest whiff of the other boy’s alpha pheromones, the heavy scent mixture of musk, vanilla and jasmine, and he’d had to grit his teeth to keep from showing his neck in submission. An urge he hadn’t had in a long time.

When Satoru lifts his face and finally looks at the other man, his breath catches. Geto Suguru is handsome, devastatingly handsome. He’s not taller than Satoru, few people are, but he’s built more widely. Despite his baggy uniform, Satoru can clearly see the outline of his build, muscle stretching the cloth tight in some places. He has a strong jawline, and his hair is tied up in a bun with one bang hanging over his forehead. There are gauges in both of his ears and he’s wearing ridiculously flared bontan pants which Satoru is horrified to find don't reduce his sex appeal at all.

‘Goddammit. He’s hot.’

Suguru is smiling, head slightly tilted to the side. But Satoru can immediately tell it’s fake, years of experience in Jujutsu Society instinctively telling him that the other man's smile is only surface level at best. He can’t help but be disappointed, despite being from a civilian family it seems that Suguru was just like the rest of the Jujutsu scum.

“Pleased to meet you,” Suguru says smoothly and Satoru has to suppress a shudder at his deep voice. “My name is Geto Suguru. Please take care of me for the rest of our time together.”

“Why don’t you tell us a little bit about yourself?” Yaga-sensei prods.

Suguru’s eyebrows crinkle for a moment in annoyance, but quickly smooth out. So quickly that Satoru wonders if he imagined it. “I come from a civilian family, I have two younger siblings, and my favorite food is zaru soba.”

Satoru rolls his eyes, “Enough with the small talk, what’s your cursed technique?” Beside him, Shoko sits up, interest piqued.

Suguru turns his attention to Satoru, still smiling that sickeningly sweet fake grin. Satoru feels his distaste for the other boy grow, despite the way his instincts preen at having the alpha’s attention. “Cursed Spirit Manipulation.”

Satoru’s eyes widen despite himself and next to him Shoko falls back in her chair, just as surprised as he is.

“Damn. No wonder the higher ups let you in without a fuss,” she says appreciatively.

Suguru’s mask finally cracks at the mention of the higher ups, mouth turning down at the corners in distaste. “Yes, they were incredibly . . . eager to admit me to the school.”

Satoru perks up at the sight, “I’m guessing there’s no love lost between you and those old geezers?”

Suguru curls his lip, “None at all.”

“Why’d you accept their offer then?” Satoru prods.

Suguru falls silent for a moment, gathering his thoughts. “I believe that society should protect the weak and keep the strong in check. Jujutsu exists to protect non-jujutsu sorcerers and it seemed like coming here was the best way to do that.”

Immediately any hope Satoru had of getting along with the alpha are dashed and he can’t help but scoff as he falls back in his seat. “Being righteous? I hate that stuff.”

Suguru bristles, “What?”

Satoru rolls his eyes as Shoko slowly starts to edge away from him. “Applying reasoning and responsibility to Jujutsu is what weak people do. Don’t get all proud of yourself for spouting that garbage.”

Suguru’s body tenses, hands fisting at his sides and eyes narrowing in disgust. His anger is so strong that the previously tight hold he had on his pheromones slips for a second and Satoru has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep his instincts from taking over. “You wanna take this outside?”

“You lonely, knothead?” Satoru smirks, hiding the minute trembling of his hands. “Go by yourself.”

“Enough,” Yaga-sensei sighs tiredly, cutting through the tension in a second. “You guys can finish this up after class. Suguru, take a seat beside Satoru. Introduce yourselves to the new student.”

Suguru stiffly takes his seat beside Satoru, looking like he’d rather be anywhere but here. Shoko reaches across from Satoru to shake the alpha’s hand. “Shoko Ieri.”

Suguru takes her hand with the same fake smile he had previously, albeit slightly strained now. “Charmed.”

Shoko elbows Satoru none too gently to introduce himself as well, but Satoru’s instincts are thrumming beneath his skin at having the alpha sit so close to him. He bounces his leg to release some of the tension.

“Gojo Satoru,” he mumbles begrudgingly, rubbing his side. Shoko has pointy elbows.

Suguru simply sends him a sideways look, mouth set into a straight line, before turning his attention back to the front of the classroom where Yaga-sensei had begun his lesson.

Satoru is already dreading the rest of the school year.

* * * * *

“What’s your deal?” Suguru demands as soon as class is done, hovering over Satoru’s desk as he asks the question.

Satoru raises an eyebrow, Yaga-sensei and Shoko had already left. They’d felt the tension between the two of them throughout the class and probably wanted to avoid the inevitable showdown. “What do you mean?”

Suguru rolls his eyes, “You know what I mean.

Satoru shrugs his shoulders, “Nothing really. I just hate righteous assholes like you who go around spouting bullshit.”

“And who gave you the right to decide it’s bullshit?” the other boy challenges.

Satoru tilts his head in confusion, “I did. Because I’m the strongest.”

Suguru’s mouth falls open for a second before he lets out a harsh laugh. “Arrogant aren’t you?”

“It’s only arrogant if you can’t back it up,” Satoru responds, finally standing up from his seat. From his height he can finally look down on the alpha, although the difference between them is only a couple inches at best.

Suguru’s eyes narrow, and for a second Satoru thinks the other boy is going to attack him. There’s a rotten scent in the air and just as he’s gathering his cursed energy in order to activate Limitless, the alpha’s face quickly smooths out.

“You know what? I don’t care. Just stay out of my way and I’ll stay out of yours,” Suguru growls.

Satoru sneers, leaning down until they’re almost touching noses. “With pleasure.”

After holding his glare for a few moments, Suguru turns around and leaves the classroom but not without cursing him under his breath the whole way. Satoru vows to avoid the other boy as much as possible for the rest of their time at the college.

* * * * *

The next day Yaga-sensei brings them out to the field in order to practice some sparring against each other.

“You guys need to work on using your physical skills and cursed energy together against opponents. Relying too heavily on one or the other could end up getting you killed,” the older man lectures.

Satoru is sitting on a bleacher with his long legs folded awkwardly. He leans his chin against a fist he has braced against his knee, eyes lidded heavily as he listens with one ear. Suguru is sitting a sizable distance away, back straight with his complete attention on their Sensei while Shoko is sitting between them, leaning back against the bleacher behind them. Satoru’s mouth opens involuntarily in a yawn before he covers it with his hand. Sleep is something that never came easy to him and recently it was becoming increasingly difficult to get some rest. His instincts were constantly on edge, never feeling comfortable enough to let down their vigilance. And they're only further aggravated by the ever present ache behind his eyes, one of the costs of having such powerful cursed techniques.

“Especially you Satoru. I’ve noticed your physical combat skills have been stagnating because you rely too much on Limitless,” Yaga-sensei warns.

Satoru snorts, “I’ve got the basics down, which is more than most people know. Plus, how are they supposed to fight me if they can’t even touch me? You nag too much sensei.”

Beside him Suguru sniggers under his breath, “Spoken like a true Young Master.”

Immediately Satoru bristles, but Shoko slaps a hand onto his mouth before he can speak. “Do this somewhere else, when I’m not sitting between the two of you idiots,” she sighs.

Yaga-sensei’s face twitches minutely, “Satoru, Suguru come on up and spar for us.”

Satoru pushes himself up with a groan, making sure everyone knows how much of an inconvenience this is for him. He makes his way towards the center of the field with Suguru following behind him. They situate themselves across from each other, and Suguru crouches into a fighting stance; he stands sideways with one leg in front of the other, both knees bent and hands braced in front of his face. Suguru had shed his outer coat while he was walking, leaving him in just the white tank top he wore underneath and the muscles Satoru had fantasized about are now in full view. The tanktop is stretched tight across Suguru’s chest, straining to contain the muscle underneath while the sun highlights his tanned skin. Satoru can make out the faint outline of dark hair leading down the other boy’s abs. He shoves his hands into his pockets, feigning nonchalance as he screams internally.

Suguru furrows his brows, “Aren't you going to prepare yourself?”

Satoru shrugs, “You won’t be able to lay a finger on me.”

“Oh I’m going to wipe the floor with you,” Suguru snarls, lip curled back to bare his fangs. Satoru ignores the small voice in the back of his mind swooning over how sexy he looks when he’s angry.

“Satoru, you already know Suguru’s cursed technique so before you guys start I’ll explain yours,” Yaga-sensei says. “Satoru has two innate cursed techniques, Limitless and the Six Eyes. Limitless allows him to manipulate space at the atomic level using his cursed energy while the Six Eyes allows him to perceive the world in different ways. He often uses Limitless to stretch the space around him ‘infinitely’ so that no one can touch him. Beyond that, Satoru himself can probably explain best.”

“Noted,” Suguru grits out, eyes still locked on Satoru as the other boy reaches a hand up to poke a pinky into his ear, scrutinizing the gunk he retrieves before flicking it to the side.

“Sensei, can we start already?” Satoru whines. “The crepe shop on Takeshita street is releasing some limited edition sweets for their anniversary today.”

“You may begin,” Yaga-sensei sighs, slumping down onto the bleachers next to Shoko.

Suguru throws himself forward at Satoru, covering the considerable distance between them in a flash. Satoru is slightly startled at his speed, but when Suguru reaches him he inevitably runs into the wall that is Limitless, movements slowing down rapidly as Satoru brings into reality the infinity between them. Suguru’s brows furrow as he pulls his fist back and shoots it forward only to encounter the same phenomenon again.

“See?” Satoru yawns. “You can’t lay a finger on me.”

Suguru jumps back, shaking his fists at his sides and examining the situation more critically and with a cooler head. He begins to circle Satoru in a fighting stance, noting as many details about the other boy as he can and Satoru follows him with his own body.

Satoru tilts his head to the side lazily, “Just throw in the towel, you’re only delaying the inevitable. And I really want those limited edition crepes.”

Suguru sneers, “When will the Young Master learn? Not everything in this world bends to your will.”

Satoru stiffens, but before he can move he senses a rapidly flying object in his peripheral vision. Immediately, he turns his body towards it, focusing his attention on the more direct threat. His hands fly up to stop the thing as it slams into infinity, it’s speed slowing down drastically which allows him to see it for what it is. A penis shaped curse with white, angel-like wings. His mouth falls open as he watches the curse squirm its little arms and legs while trapped in infinity, releasing small screams periodically that coincide with the pain spiking in his brain.

“Wha-,” before the words even leave his mouth there’s a large weight slamming into his back and shoving him face first onto the ground. His arms are quickly grabbed and dragged behind him, and the weight settles more fully onto him, pushing his spine into an exaggerated arch with his cheek pressed into the dirt. Suguru, who he finally identifies as the weight, leans forward to rumble into his ear, “I win.”

Satoru can feel the other boy’s lips brushing against his ear with every word, he can feel the intense heat radiating off of the alpha’s body and sinking into his skin, he can feel the firm bulk of Suguru’s chest as he uses his weight to keep Satoru pinned down. There’s satisfaction lacing his voice and leaking out of his body in the form of pheromones as Suguru momentarily forgets to control them in his euphoria. Satoru just barely manages to suppress a whimper, but he can’t help the way his body needily arches against the first physical contact he’s had in a long while, especially from an alpha. Satoru can feel the impressive outline of Suguru’s dick pressing against his ass, even soft, and instantly vivid images of what exactly Suguru could and should be doing with that dick flash through his mind. His own pheromones begin to waft out in response to Suguru’s, welcoming the alpha.

Suddenly, there’s a vibration starting in his chest and helplessly he realizes he’s purring. At the subtle sound, Suguru melts more fully against Satoru’s frame, releasing a deeper purr of his own in response to the receptive omega beneath him, but only for a moment. For a moment Satoru is lost in the ecstasy of having the full attention and approval of an alpha he acknowledges, but it’s quickly ripped away when Suguru stiffens as soon as he realizes what exactly he’s doing. Instantly the other boy is on his feet, falling backwards onto his ass and shoving himself away with his hands and feet in his haste. Which leaves Satoru exposed on all fours, with his cheek shoved against the dirt and back needily arched.

Yaga-sensei clears his throat and immediately the heat that had previously been building in the pit of Satoru’s stomach is rudely doused with cold water. He scrambles at the ground in his haste to stand up, tripping over his feet before he finally manages to right himself. Satoru tugs at his clothes trying to cover his crotch and grits his teeth as he avoids looking at the bleachers or at Suguru who was still only wearing a tanktop. He can feel the violent blush rising in his cheeks as he desperately tries to pretend he doesn’t have a hard on. At that moment, Satoru wishes he was wearing those ridiculous bontan pants that Suguru has.

Yaga-sensei at least has the grace to look away but Shoko doesn’t. Satoru hadn’t noticed when it had happened, but sometime during their display she had fallen off the bleachers from laughing too hard and now had her phone out, snapping picture after picture of the two of them.

“Oh my god this is hilarious,” she cackles.

“You better delete those,” Satoru warns half-heartedly.

“Or what? You’re gonna rub one off against me?” Shoko counters.

Satoru shoves a hand in front of his crotch still keeping his vision focused somewhere on the horizon. Suguru has it easier, with how open his pants are there’s no way anyone can see his erection. Because Satoru had definitely felt Suguru’s hard dick against his ass, it would’ve been hard not to notice with how big he was.

Yaga-sensei clears his throat, “It’s a perfectly normal reaction, no need to get worked up. You guys are going through puberty after all. I remember when I was your age I used to get hard at the drop of a hat.”

Satoru gapes at the older man, embarrassment momentarily forgotten at the frank confession.

“Sensei,” Suguru grits out. “With all due respect, please shut the fuck up.”

“I did not need to know that,” Shoko says, falling back onto the bleachers as her former glee is unceremoniously doused by their sensei. She even stops taking pictures as she tries to digest the unwanted information, face scrunching in disgust.

“I’m trying to be compassionate,” Yaga-sensei frowns. “But if you brats are gonna be this ungrateful then next time I’ll make sure to highlight your humiliation.”

“It’s not like you pull your punches normally,” Satoru complains, finally able to pull his hand away as his erection dies down. There’s still a furious blush lining his cheeks and the memory of Suguru’s body pressed against his is fresh in his mind. He sneaks a glance over at the boy standing next to him, to see if he’s just as affected as Satoru is. Suguru’s brought his hands up and he’s rubbing his face furiously, pushing stray hairs out of his vision. There’s a sheen of sweat coating his body and the tank top clings even more firmly to his rippled torso than previously. Satoru pointedly ignores how he can make out the dark trail of hair leading down Suguru’s navel if he looks, as well as how he can clearly feel the instincts he’d long buried perking up in interest.

“How’s it feel to lose after talking yourself up so much?” Shoko smirks, bringing Satoru out of his musings and dumping him face first into another humiliation.

Satoru bristles, fists clenching at his sides. “Shut up.”

She sighs dreamily, “It was so satisfying seeing your smug face get shoved into the dirt.”

“Suguru, explain to Satoru why he lost,” Yaga-sensei calls out.

Satoru doesn’t even have to look over at the other boy to tell how smug he is, the satisfaction is practically radiating off of him.

“It wasn’t that hard,” Suguru gloats, crossing his perfectly sculpted biceps across his chest. “I just watched him and observed the fact that he always kept his body facing me when activating Infinity. Also, whenever I moved he turned his body to follow me. So I made the assumption that he could only use Infinity directly in front of him, which I tested and found to be correct.”

“That’s not true,” Satoru seethes.

Yaga-sensei raises an eyebrow, “Then what is true?”

“I can turn Infinity on all around me,” he defends. “It just requires more cursed energy and concentration than I thought I’d need to use for this fight.”

“So you were careless and overconfident,” Shoko summarizes while texting rapidly on her phone. “That’s even more embarrassing.”

“That type of shit can get you killed Satoru,” Yaga-sensei warns. “Which is exactly what I was hoping to demonstrate to you. Thank you for being so cooperative in this lesson Suguru.”

“Happy I could be of help Sensei,” Suguru grins, satisfaction practically tangible. “Please feel free to call me up next time you need to drag this idiot down from his pedestal.”

Satoru sneers, “I’d never give you the chance.”

Suguru finally turns his face to Satoru, “I don’t need your permission to beat your ass, as I just demonstrated.”

He curls his lip, “Beginners luck.”

Suguru’s eyes narrow, and he begins to saunter towards Satoru. “You wanna test that theory? Because I’ve been dying for an excuse to shove your perfect face into the dirt again.”

“Go ahead and try it! I’ll blow your head clean off your shoulders,” Satoru snarls, clenching his fists as he concentrates his cursed energy in his hands. They're standing just a couple inches away from each other now, and with Suguru glaring up at him from such a close distance Satoru can make out each lash framing his eyes.

“Oh you don’t need to beg, princess,” Suguru growls, cursed energy beginning to course through his body as well. “I’m always ready for you.”

There’s an undercurrent of heat that shoots through Satoru’s body at the nickname, but he isn’t able to examine the feeling further before Yaga-sensei pushes his body between them.

“Break it up you two,” their sensei scowls, looking up at the darkening sky. “Today’s class is over and you can all return to your dorms. Make sure you remember today’s lesson, Satoru.”

Shoko wrinkles her nose, “Hit the showers first. Both of you reek, I can smell it from all the way over here.”

“Delete those pictures or I’m going to shove my pits in your face,” Satoru warns, walking towards her menacingly.

Shoko scrambles to stand up, “Fuck, fuck fine! Don’t come near me, I’ll delete the damn pictures. I already sent them to everyone anyway.”

“Bitch,” Satoru grumbles. It’s going to be hell dealing with Mei Mei and Utahime when he sees them later, there’s nothing they love more than humiliating him. Nanami enjoys his pain as well, but he’s not as vocal about it, especially with Haibara to keep him in line.

“Hey new kid!” Shoko calls out, getting Suguru’s attention before she leaves. “You’ve got my approval. We’re sorely in need of people capable of humbling Satoru.”

Suguru takes an exaggerated bow, crossing one leg in front of the other and putting a hand over his chest. “It was my pleasure, truly.”

“Just watch your back,” she warns. “Satoru is both childish and petty.”

Suguru looks over at where Satoru’s standing, blush still high in his cheeks with his hands shoved into his pockets. “I have two younger sisters; I’m pretty sure I can handle anything he throws at me.”

“You’d be surprised,” Yaga-sensei calls out. “He thinks the height of comedy is putting a whoopie cushion on someone’s chair.”

“But at the same time he has a way of getting under your skin,” Shoko adds. “Something about him just irrationally pisses people off.”

Suguru stares at Satoru for a moment, “Oh I definitely get what you’re saying. He’s pretty enough, but as soon as he opens his mouth I wanna punch him.”

“I’m not putting up with this any longer,” Satoru announces, ignoring the thrill he felt at being called pretty by Suguru. He whips around and furiously makes his way away from the training grounds to the sound of their combined laughter. Satoru heads toward his dorm room, wanting to avoid contact with anyone else for the rest of the day as he nurses his wounded pride. There’s a rising ache behind his eyes that he’s been ignoring for a while now, threatening to put him out of commission forcibly if he doesn’t do something about it.

Satrou throws the door to his dorm open and it bangs against the wall on its way, causing him to flinch as the sound grates at his already sensitive mind.

“Fuck,” he mubles as he presses the palms of his hands against his eyes. Satoru rubs furiously, hoping to alleviate the pain but his eyes only throb harder, as if punishing him. Despite the early hour, he stumbles his way over to the bed and falls onto it face first, squirming as he tries to find a comfortable position. Sleep has never come easy to him, and even now with the intense pain behind his eyes it still eludes him. Satoru twists and turns in bed, brings a leg up and flips onto his stomach in order to fall asleep. After much movement, he finally gives up and flips onto his back, staring at the roof of his dorm.

Unbidden, his thoughts drift to sparring match, but not the fight itself. Instead he remembers the aftermath, and how Suguru had been draped over his body. The warmth of the embrace, the comfort, the security, the soothing response he’d gotten. And suddenly, Satoru’s purring again without realizing it, turning onto his side and curling into a ball. His eyes begin to lid as he lets the thoughts consume him, and a small part of him is horrified at what’s unfolding, but a larger part of him just wants rest so badly it’s willing to take it any way it can get it.

Before he falls asleep, Satoru vows to avoid the other boy as much as possible for the rest of their time at the college, but this time for an entirely different reason.

Chapter Text

Of course it wouldn't be that easy. The very next day Yaga-sensei announces a new mission that he thought would be the perfect match for Satoru and Suguru.

Satoru’s eyes widen and he quickly shoots a hand up, desperation tinging his words. “Sensei, can’t Shoko go with me?”

“No, part of this mission is specifically for Suguru. He’s supposed to capture the cursed spirit and consume it.”

“So Shoko can go with him instead?” Satoru suggests hopefully.

Yaga-sensei looks up while raising an eyebrow, “Shoko doesn’t have an offensive cursed technique, you already know this Satoru. She wouldn’t be able to help much on the front lines.”

“Tough luck,” Shoko whispers to Satoru as he slumps back in his seat. Next to him, Suguru has his arms crossed across his chest with a resigned look on his face.

“It’s just a simple grade 2 so you guys should be able to handle it with no problem but if anything goes wrong, retreat immediately; no mission is worth either of your lives. I’ll send the rest of the information to you guys by text, class dismissed.” With those parting words, Yaga-sensei walks out of the classroom.

Satoru turns to Shoko beseechingly, “Shoko-,”

“Nope, not happening,” Shoko interrupts.

“You don’t even know what I’m going to ask yet!”

“I don’t need to know because I’ve got shit to do,” Shoko responds, standing up and starting to head towards the door. “You’re on your own for this one.”

“Shoko,” Satoru pleads.

“Remember to bring back enough of yourselves for me to fix,” with that parting shot Shoko slips out and allows the door to shut behind her.

Suguru stirs behind him and Satoru stiffens. He’d been carefully ignoring the other boy while trying to make sure he wasn’t being too obvious with his behavior.

“If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were deliberately ignoring me,” Suguru jabs. “But of course our distinguished young master would never do something so undignified.”

Satoru takes a deep breath and schools his expression into one of calculated indifference before turning back around to face the other boy.

“Of course not. You’re just not worth my time,” Satoru replies, making sure his tone is laced with a suitable amount of detachment.

Suguru raises a brow, and shoves his hands into the pockets of his wide pants looking strangely timid. “Whatever you say, princess.”

Both of their phones ding at the same time as they receive the message from Yaga-sensei containing the rest of the information needed for the mission. Satoru grabs his phone from where he placed it on the table and from the corner of his eyes he sees Suguru do the same.

Curse: Grade 2
Location: Yasohachi Bridge
Goal: Defeat and consume
the curse using cursed
spirit manipulation

“Sounds simple enough,” Satoru murmurs. He shoves his phone into his pocket and turns towards the door, not checking if Suguru follows. “Let’s go. The sooner we get this done the less time we have to spend with each other.”

“Wait,” Suguru calls out.

Satoru turns around and raises a brow, “What is it now?”

Suguru’s expression is twisted, as if he’d sucked on a lemon, and he’s avoiding direct eye contact. “Before we go, I just . . .”

“Spit it out, I don’t have all day,” Satoru rolls his eyes.

Suguru scowls at the floor, “I’m sorry, okay?”

Satoru’s brows scrunch in confusion, “For what?”

“What I did yesterday,” Suguru mumbles.

Satoru bristles, “Is this some kind of joke? First you beat me and now-”

“Oh not that,” Suguru interrupts. “Shoving your smug face into the ground was the most satisfying thing I’ve done in a while.”

“Then what?” Satoru demands, petulant.

Suguru’s feet shuffle as he gathers his thoughts, “I let my instincts get the better of me and I’m sorry. I won’t let it happen again.”

Satoru finally realizes what the other boy was talking about; Suguru was apologizing for the way he’d responded to Satoru’s shameless presentation. Immediately he feels heat rise in his cheeks as he remembers the embarrassing way he’d reacted.

“You’re forgiven,” Satoru rushes the words out. “Now let’s go, we have a curse to exorcise.”

“Bu-”

“I’m leaving!” Satoru calls out behind himself as he very clearly does not run out of the room.

* * * * *

When the two of them finally arrive at Yasohachi Bridge after using one of the cars Jujutsu High provides, it’s afternoon. The ride had been completely silent; both of them had avoided each other by looking out the window and pretending the other didn’t exist. After being dropped off however, they were forced to acknowledge their situation.

“So,” Suguru starts. “How do you want to do this?”

“Split up,” Satoru grunts, standing slumped forward with his hands shoved into his pockets. “I don’t wanna stare at your ugly mug any longer than I have to.”

Satoru pivots and starts walking across the bridge, heading towards a stone staircase that leads to the area below it. From behind himself, he hears Suguru sigh audibly before the other man begins to walk behind him.

“Shouldn’t we set up a curtain?”

“Yeah, when we finally find the curse,” Satoru calls out behind himself as he pulls a caramel candy out of his pocket and pops it into his mouth. Suguru jogs faster until he’s next to Satoru and the two walk side by side in silence, hoping to detect the curse. The sound of crickets surrounds them, along with a medley of bird chirps and the rustle of various small animals through the underbrush.

After a moment of walking in silence, Suguru speaks up. “So. You know how I got scouted for Jujutsu High, how'd you get roped in?”

Satoru freezes abruptly in his tracks, spinning around to look Suguru in the eye. Because of Satoru’s sudden movements, there’s a startled expression on Suguru’s face as he stops, almost running into Satoru in the process.

“You really don’t know?” There’s an undercurrent of disbelief in Satoru’s voice; even if Suguru was formerly a civilian there’s no way he wouldn’t have found out who Satoru was by now.

Suguru tilts his head slightly while looking up at Satoru, “No? That’s why I asked.”

Satoru bites his lip for a moment, contemplating whether he wants to keep Suguru in the dark, “Family lineage. I’m from the Gojo clan.”

There’s a completely blank look on Suguru’s face as he responds, clearly stating that he has no idea who they are. “Oh, ok. That’s cool, I guess.”

Satoru can’t help the smile that tugs the corners of his mouth. After years of living in Jujutsu Society where the vast majority of people are either trying to kill him or exploit him, Suguru’s reaction is a breath of fresh air. Which is why he decides to share more.

“I’m actually the clan heir you know,” Satoru confesses.

Suguru snickers at that, “Of course you are. You’re certainly pretentious enough for the position.” But he doesn’t say anything else, crouching down for a moment to look at some deep prints in the dirt.

Satoru hesitates, “That’s all? You’re not gonna say anything about my secondary gender? They always do.”

Suguru looks up at him with a frown, “Why would I? That kind of thinking is so outdated. And as much as I hate to admit it, you may be an arrogant jerk but you’re also incredibly strong.”

There’s a warmth that blossoms in his chest at Suguru’s frank praise, but Satoru squashes the feeling as soon as it rises.

“That’s right,” he brags, puffing his chest out as he walks. “If I hadn’t been going easy on you yesterday you wouldn’t have had a chance.”

Suguru stops in his tracks and Satoru turns back around to look at the other boy. Suguru’s brows are raised, and there’s a disappointed tilt to his mouth. Immediately, Satoru is self-conscious.

“Too much?” he questions sheepishly.

“You ruined it,” Suguru sighs. “We were having a moment and you ruined it.”

“Right, right. I’ll just. Shut up,” Satoru mumbles, absentmindedly kicking at the dirt.

They continue to walk, both of them extending their senses as far as they’re able to in order to detect the curse. Satoru can’t help but feel awkward. Yesterday’s incident was now fresh in his mind thanks to Suguru’s considerate reminder. Satoru prided himself on his self-control; he possessed a rigid discipline over his body and ‘cruder’ instincts. That self-control hadn’t failed him ever since he first presented, yet here was this alpha who broke it without even trying. A large part of Satoru was scared of what that meant; he’d seen first hand what could happen if he grew complacent. Even to this day, the memory of that mercenary alpha’s putrid breath across his scent gland haunted Satoru’s nightmares. He feels a shudder course through his body just at the memory.

Satoru sneaks a look at Suguru but the other boy seems to be completely unaware of the turmoil in his mind. He turns his attention forward with a huff and continues his previous line of thought. Despite his misgivings there was a small part, an incredibly small part, that whispered Suguru wasn’t like the others. That it would be different this time. That it would feel so good to be able to let his guard down for once, relax and indulge his instincts; Satoru deserved it after all the shit he’d been through. He ignores the voice, of course. Satoru’s so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t even notice that Suguru is no longer next to him.

“Hold on a second,” Suguru calls out from behind him, startling him out of his thoughts.

“What, you tired already?” Satoru taunts instinctively, turning around to face the other boy once more.

“No you idiot,” Suguru rolls his eyes, annoyed. “We’re not getting anywhere like this. ”

He stands still for a moment, and Satoru can feel the other boy’s cursed energy stirring. From over Suguru’s shoulder, a black wisp appears and quickly becomes clearer. As soon as Satoru can recognize its shape, his face curls in displeasure. It’s the exact same curse that caused him to lose yesterday’s sparring match.

Suguru laughs when he sees Satoru’s expression, “You’re gonna glare a hole through it at this rate. What do you have against my curse?”

“I’d rather not have a reminder of my defeat rubbed in my face, thank you very much,” he retorts.

Suguru reaches up a hand and grabs the curse around its midsection, bringing it in front of his eyes. The little thing's white wings are beating frantically and it releases a low-pitched screech that gets cut off as soon as Suguru tightens his grip. “I don’t know, I think it’s kind of cute.”

“It’s a dick,” Satoru deadpans.

“Who happens to have wings,” Suguru adds. “It can survey the surroundings faster than we can while walking.”

“And this is the only flying curse you have?”

“The only one this small, yes,” Suguru responds, bringing the cursed spirit closer to his lips and whispering to it.

Satoru snorts in displeasure, “Whatever.”

Suguru lets go of the curse and the thing instantly zooms off into the forest around them. Satoru can vaguely detect its cursed energy at the very edge of his awareness before that too disappears.

“It’s fast,” Satoru grudgingly admits.

“That’s exactly why I brought it out. Now let’s finish this be-,” Suguru suddenly staggers mid-word, bringing a hand up to his forehead with a curse. Satoru instinctively reaches a hand forward to steady him but it’s not necessary.

“Are you ok?” He asks instead, hands hovering awkwardly.

Suguru lifts up his head and Satoru knows something is wrong. Suguru’s face is drawn, his gaze is sharpened and his body is tense. Satoru can feel his cursed energy swirling in his body, reacting to his caution.

“Something killed my curse. And somehow severed the link between us,” Suguru says, tone grave.

Satoru tilts his head, “Is that not normal?”

“No, they usually just go back to wherever they hang if I don’t call them. I’m not too clear on where that is. ”

“Well, at least we’ve found our grade 2. We just have to head in the direction your curse went before it disappeared,” Satoru says, turning around and walking towards where he saw the curse go. Before he can get very far, he’s stopped by Suguru’s voice.

“Satoru,” the other boy calls out. Satoru turns his head to look at him; Suguru’s brows are furrowed and his lips are pursed.

“What is it?” Satoru asks impatiently. “I thought you wanted to get this done quickly.”

“I do. It’s just that,” Suguru hesitates. “We should be careful. I think it's stronger than we expect.”

Satoru rolls his eyes, “It’s a Grade 2 curse. How strong could it possibly be? Besides, there’s nothing to worry about. I’m the strongest after all.”

Satoru turns around to begin walking again, but this time Suguru rushes forward and grabs his arm.

“What is it now?” Satoru complains, exasperated.

Suguru’s eyes are wide, “Do you hear that?”

Satoru pauses for a moment and listens to the forest. It’s completely silent, “I don’t hear anything.”

“Exactly. That’s not normal.” As one, both boys turn to face the trees in the direction Suguru’s curse flew off in. Satoru can’t see anything but foliage, but there’s a feeling of dread creeping down his spine. He feels as if he’s being hunted.

“Something is watching us,” he whispers.

“Yeah,” Suguru confirms grimly. “And it’s hiding its presence somehow, from both of us.”

Suddenly, the bushes rustle with movement. Immediately, both of them crouch into fighting stances. Satoru readies his cursed energy, activating Infinity and focusing his power into his hands. Beside him, he can feel Suguru doing the same. The foliage begins to rustle more rapidly, and from the darkness emerges a deer. Satoru tilts his head in confusion, standing up from his previous position, but keeping a tight hold on his cursed energy.

“Don’t move, you idiot,” Suguru hisses at him.

“It’s just a deer though?”

“Look closer,” Suguru whispers, voice dripping with disgust.

Satoru looks closer at the deer, and slowly details about the animal that formerly escaped him become clearer. The deer’s skin bulges in places, as if it’s wearing an ill-fitting suit. Its fur is brown, missing patches in random places. One of its horns is broken, and hanging onto its head by a splinter. The thing’s legs are shaking as well, as if it’s struggling to hold itself up and appear to be shattered in multiple spots. But the most eerie thing about it, is the fact that it’s looking directly at them with both of its eyes. Eyes that are glazed over and glassy.

Satoru’s face blanches. It was no longer a deer in his eyes, and it probably never was one in the first place. “That’s not a fucking deer.” Now that he’s looking for it, he can detect traces of cursed energy slipping through the cracks of its being as well.

“I think we’ve found our grade 2,” Suguru says grimly. Satoru feels a burst of cursed energy and a wolf shaped curse with vivid markings across its pelt rushes towards the deer with a howl. Without even blinking, the deer stretches its jaws open wide, the sound of cracking bones and ripping sinew clear in the air, and chomps the wolf in half. It occurs so quickly that despite having seen it first hand, Satoru is left baffled at how it happened. Beside him, Suguru staggers, having felt the loss of his curse deeply.

“What the fuck is that thing?” The other boy curses. “It’s somehow cutting off the connection between me and my curses.” The deer continues to stand, having not moved from its initial spot. It’s still staring at them, but now the lower part of its jaw is broken and hanging onto its face by threads of bloody muscle.

“I have no idea,” Satoru says grimly. “But I do know that we have to kill it right now.” He walks forward, shoving Suguru behind himself and brings his hand up with his arm extended. Satoru gathers his cursed energy into a ball, swirling it as fast as he can. He amplifies Limitless and negative cursed energy, producing a powerful vacuum in his hand that sucks in everything around it. He himself is untouched by the power, but behind him he can feel Suguru get pulled forward against his back by the force.

“Cursed Technique Lapse. Blue,” Satoru whispers, before propelling the ball forward through the air towards the deer. His technique rushes towards the curse, pulling all matter in its range of space together. Furrows appear in the ground, uprooting all vegetation in its path. Right before it hits the deer though, the animal suddenly disappears and Satoru’s technique instead runs into the forest behind it. There’s a large cracking noise as trees break and splinter in half, bushes are wrenched from the dirt and a deep crater gets dug into the ground.

“Where the hell did it go?” Satoru shouts, spinning around and coming chest to chest with Suguru.

“Calm down,” Suguru lays a hand on his chest. “Getting agitated isn’t going to help anyone.”

“You’d be agitated too if one of your strongest techniques got dodged like it was nothing,” Satoru snarls, foot tapping the dirt impatiently.

Suguru’s brows furrow, and his mouth sets itself into a worried line. “I’m starting to think this curse isn’t a simple grade 2.”

“Oh I should’ve known,” Satoru spits out. “Those old geezers are up to their bullshit tricks again.”

Suguru raises a brow, “Again?”

“They’ve been trying to incapacitate me for ages,” Satoru responds absently, still scanning their surroundings for the escaped curse. “As soon as I’m down, they’ll shove some knotheaded alpha on me and force me to have a kid.”

Suguru’s expression becomes thunderous, and Satoru would be touched at how much the other boy cares if they weren’t currently at the mercy of a curse they know nothing about. And besides, it’s probably not concern for him personally. Suguru is disgustingly righteous after all, there’s no way he’d agree with such a vile plan; stripping someone of their free-will and then violating them after.

“That’s disgusting.”

“Tell me about it,” Satoru agrees. “But now is not the time for this conversation. Let’s focus on the curse?”

The two of them turn back to back in order to minimize any openings and scan their surroundings. Suguru’s steady weight against his back is reassuring, he knows first hand how strong the other boy is. They turn in a tight circle, keeping in contact with each other at all times.

“The good thing is that the curse probably isn’t too strong, a semi-grade 1 at most. It’s supposed to incapacitate me, not kill me,” Satoru murmurs.

“Can you be sure about that,” Suguru hums back.

“Of course,” Satoru scoffs. “They need me.”

There’s a rustle in the foliage to Suguru’s right, and both of them turn their faces to the sound. Before he can blink, Suguru’s body is thrown from his side into a tree behind them with a sickening crack. Satoru barely has enough time to activate Infinity before the curse rushes at him too, its movements slowing down dramatically as it runs into Satoru’s technique.

“Suguru!” he shouts behind himself, not taking his eyes off of the curse in front of him. He hears a worrying groan in response, but at least he knows the other boy is alive. In the short time it’d disappeared, the curses’ form had degenerated even more. While before it could still be called a deer, now nothing about it resembles the animal. Its fur was bulging and rippling, as if it was desperately trying to get out of its own skin. The thing’s lower jaw was still just barely hanging on by threads of sinew, its eyes were glassy and there was foam coming out of its mouth. Its bones were misshapen, as if someone had taken a hammer to its body in random places and they’d never healed right. There’s a putrid scent coming from the curse, the scent of rotting flesh and burning fur. Satoru holds back a gag, and as he watches in disgust, bloody cuts appear randomly in the curses’ hide. Its skin begins to peel back as the thing itself lets out a hauntingly human scream. The curse suddenly freezes before pulling back away from Infinity rapidly, and Satoru curses as he remembers Suguru. He turns around, already running toward the other boy when he sees the curse reappear in his peripheral vision.

I'm not going to make it. The thought is vivid in his mind, an image of Suguru’s bloody and mangled body flashing across his vision. Like hell I won’t. Satoru grits his teeth and leaps forward the remaining distance, muscles burning from the strain as he crashes into Suguru’s body. The boy lets out a shout as Satoru’s weight is thrown onto his already aching torso, but it gets the job done. With Satoru covering him, the curse runs into Infinity once again and lets out a frustrated howl, legs scrambling at the air in slow motion as it frantically tries to reach them.

Satoru clumsily stands up on his knees, legs on either side of Suguru’s lap. The curse is still squirming furiously behind him, spitting out blood and saliva as it screams but Satoru is focused on something more important. Suguru’s hair has come undone from its tight bun and there are more than a few scratches on his face, with one gash across his cheek looking particularly worrisome. Satoru quickly grabs Suguru’s chin with a trembling hand, bringing the boy's face up from its former position. He then uses his other hand to pull open an eyelid and check Suguru’s pupil.

“‘m not concussed,” Suguru grits out, startling Satoru and still clutching his side with one hand. “Ribs are just bruised. The cracking sound was mostly the tree.”

Relief seeps through his body at the other boy’s words, and Satoru can’t help the way it shows on his face. Immediately his formerly furrowed brow smoothes and his stiff shoulders relax. Suguru shakes his head and as his eyes focus on the curse over Satoru’s shoulder, the boy’s face goes slack with shock.

“That is the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen,” Suguru wrinkles his nose at the curse that’s slobbering and screaming over Satoru’s shoulder. The curse freezes, as if it heard and understood what Suguru had said, before it once again retreats rapidly into the darkness of the forest.

There’s a laugh bubbling up in his chest and Satoru lets it out, forehead falling forward onto Suguru’s shoulder. He hadn’t realized it before, but he was trembling. If he’d been even a second late, Suguru would’ve died right in front of him. Satoru takes in a deep breath from where he’s pressed against the side of Suguru’s sweat soaked neck, pulling in a big waft of the other boy’s scent to reassure himself he’s still here. He can hear Suguru’s pulse beating rapidly through his veins, further comfort to Satoru’s racing mind. Suguru’s hands hover awkwardly in the air before he brings them down tentatively to rest against Satoru’s back. He releases his pheromones slightly, barely enough to be detected but Satoru catches it right away with how he’s shoved against the other boy’s scent gland. His frazzled instincts calm immediately at the comforting scent and touch.

“You almost died, dumbass,” Satoru chokes out, pressing his face further into the crook of the alpha’s neck.

“But I didn’t,” Suguru retorts childishly. “Besides, I didn’t think you cared enough about me to worry.”

Satoru freezes for a moment, their compromising position flashing through his mind, before falling backwards onto his ass in his haste to get away from Suguru. “I don’t! I just didn’t wanna have to lug your dead body back to Jujutsu High,” Satoru stands up, brushing the dirt off of his knees as nonchalantly as he can. There’s a heat in his cheeks and he prays Suguru doesn’t notice it. Satoru shoves his overly emotional reaction into a box to examine later, they’ve got a curse to deal with right now.

Suguru rolls his eyes as he gingerly stands up, “I wouldn’t want to inconvenience the young master in any way.”

Satoru turns his head to the forest, despite his hopes he can sense the curse still out there, leaking cursed energy traces. The curse is simply waiting for another chance to strike.

“It’s still out there?” Suguru questions.

“Yeah, I can feel its cursed energy moving slowly. It’s close.”

“I think-,” Suguru hesitates for a moment before continuing. “I don’t think we can deal with this curse.”

“Chickening out?” Satoru jabs, but his heart isn’t in the taunt. As much as he’d hate to admit it, he agrees with Suguru.

“Satoru, don’t be an idiot. I think that curse is a grade 1 at least, maybe even special grade 1. There’s no way we can deal with it.”

Satoru bites his lip, “I know. But how the hell are we supposed to get away? It’s just circling us, waiting for our backs to turn so it can pounce.”

Suguru sets his jaw, “I’ll release all the curses I have at once to keep it busy and we’ll make a run for the bridge; there should be a car arriving from Jujutsu High soon. They’re not very powerful curses, but they’ll manage to buy us some time.”

“How much time?” Satoru asks.

Suguru barks out a laugh, “Don’t ask questions you don’t want answered. When I give the signal, just run as fast as you can without stopping.”

Satoru turns around and faces the path they came from. He can sense the curse growing more agitated behind them, its energy thrashing within its form. Suguru’s cursed energy rises as he prepares to release his curses, and Satoru feels multiple low-level cursed spirits coming into form behind him 1, 2, 4, 8, 16, 20.

“Go, go, go!” Suguru shouts, and Satoru’s running before he’s even done. There’s screams behind them as the curses begin to battle, but Satoru doesn’t look back. He keeps his eyes forward, blood pumping through his body as he forces himself to go faster and faster. In the back of his mind he’s aware of the fact that Suguru’s running beside him, but most of his attention is focused on drawing air through his lungs regularly. There’s a stitch in his side, but he powers through it and jumps over a log landing in an unseen ditch on the other side. Immediately he’s down, raising his hands in an attempt to break his fall as agony radiates through his leg.

“Motherfucking son of a bitch!” Satoru shouts, pain coursing up from his ankle. He scrambles to get up, trying to put weight on the limb but he just stumbles back to the dirt with a cut off scream. Satoru looks up and locks eyes with Suguru, who’d stopped after realizing he was no longer following.

“I twisted my ankle,” Satoru says, eyes wide with fear behind his wet bangs. The situation is so ridiculous he almost wants to laugh at the irony. A hauntingly human scream rises behind them, followed by the crashing and breaking sounds of trees signaling that the curse is finished dealing with Suguru’s curses.

“Just keep going without me,” Satoru grits out. “It can’t touch me because of Infinity.”

Suguru hesitates and looks into the forest behind them. The sounds of breaking trees and ripping foliage is still far off but it’s steadily growing closer. The boy clenches his fists and sets his jaw before quickly making his way over to where Satoru is lying on the ground. Satoru stares in confusion as Suguru grabs him around the waist before unceremoniously throwing him over his shoulder like a sack of rice with a groan. Satoru yelps as his ankle is jostled throughout the process, letting out an embarrassing squeal when Suguru begins to run again, one hand clutching Satoru’s ass to stabilize his weight.

“What the hell are you doing?” Satoru screeches, smacking a hand against Suguru’s sweaty back.

“Saving your life,” Suguru growls. “So stop making it difficult!”

Satoru's mortified at being carried like this but there's not much else he can do short of telling Suguru to put him down an he'd rather not die. Suguru’s pace is slowed down with Satoru’s added weight over his shoulder, but the other boy manages. Satoru focuses his vision on the forest behind them and his face goes white as he catches the curse come crashing out of the foliage behind them with a howl. It’s grown in size since the last time they saw it, almost completely shedding its deer disguise.

“Suguru, it’s gaining on us!”

“I’m a little busy at the moment so why don’t you try doing something for once,” Suguru snaps back as he takes a tight turn around a tree, jostling Satoru wildly on his shoulder.

Satoru brings his hand up, once again amplifying Limitless and his negative cursed energy to create Blue before shooting it off towards the curse. It's difficult to aim from over Suguru's shoulder but he manages. This time, it doesn’t dodge as rapidly and the technique runs along its side, ripping off chunks of flesh as it goes. The curse lets out an enraged scream before picking up speed.

“It’s just making it angrier!” Satoru shrieks hysterically, wind whipping at his words.

Suguru stumbles, and for a heart stopping moment Satoru thinks they’re both going down, but he quickly regains his footing. “Aren’t you supposed to be the strongest sorcerer?” Suguru wheezes.

Satoru wants to punch the other boy, but he manages to resist the urge. He instead creates Blue once again, this time carefully aiming for the curses’ head before shooting it off. It hits the thing right between the eyes, and the curse finally stumbles with a screech, having lost part of its head.

“Bullseye!” Satoru screams, pumping a fist through the air. His celebration doesn’t last long; almost immediately tendrils of flesh begin growing out and reconnecting in the gaping hole left by Satoru’s technique. He goes pale, “Oh, fuck.”

“What happened?” Suguru pants, breathless.

“I bought you some time but this thing has some crazy fast regeneration!”

Suguru groans from underneath Satoru, “God fucking dammit.”

Satoru keeps both eyes locked on the curse until it goes out of sight when Suguru makes a left turn. It was still lying on the ground, but from how quick its regeneration was there’s no telling how quickly it would get up again. With how fast they were going they should soon reach the bridge. Or at least, that’s what he thinks before Suguru suddenly stops.

“We don’t have time for you to take a piss break, pick up the pace,” Satoru barks, tapping Suguru’s back impatiently. Suguru hesitates before taking a few steps to the right and stopping once again.

Satoru groans, “Suguru seriously, what the hell?”

“I took a wrong turn,” Suguru mumbles, letting Satoru slide down his body until he’s sitting on the ground against a hard surface

“You took a wrong turn?” Satoru shrieks. He turns around only to see that he’s braced against a steep cliff face. He looks up to try and find the top but only gets a strained neck for his trouble. There’s no way they can climb it.

“Hey, running through the forest with a terrifying curse chasing you doesn’t leave much room for educated decisions,” Suguru defends. “Besides, your added weight certainly didn’t help.”

“Oh and now you’re calling me fat,” Satoru laughs hysterically. There’s a howl in the distance, echoed by the crashing of trees which means the curse has recovered. Satoru raises an arm and waves Suguru over, “Just, get over here.”

Suguru tilts his head in confusion and Satoru groans. “Get behind me you idiot, you’re a sitting duck without any curses. Infinity can protect both of us.”

Suguru walks over quickly, squeezing himself behind Satoru so that Satoru ends up sitting between the other boy’s legs, back pressed against his chest. Suguru feels like a furnace against his back, Satoru can feel his heart beating rapidly against his chest.

“How long can you hold it off?” Suguru asks, hot breath puffing against Satoru’s ear.

“I don’t know,” Satoru replies grimly; he can hear the curse getting closer. It’s cursed energy has grown dramatically in size, no longer contained by its disguise. No one would mistake it for a grade 2 now. “I’ve never tested Limitless like this. Do you still have your phone? Mine fell out when I tripped.”

Suguru shifts behind him and manages to pull out his phone, already knowing what Satoru means. Suguru quickly dials Yaga-sensei, tapping impatiently at the ground as he waits for the call to connect only to hear it go to voicemail. The curse suddenly bursts out of the foliage and Satoru jolts from the shock. It stumbles its way straight towards them, before running into Infinity and screaming with frustration. Despite knowing it can’t get through, Satoru can’t help the way he presses back against Suguru’s chest, instinctively seeking comfort in such a stressful situation. Suguru absentmindedly wraps an arm around Satoru’s waist, pulling him against himself more securely as he dials Shoko next. Thankfully, this time the call connects.

“Shoko?” Suguru shouts to be heard over the curse. Satoru can faintly hear Shoko respond, but Suguru speaks over her. “Send help! The curse is special grade 1! Did you hear me? SEND HELP!”

The call cuts off soon after, and Suguru shoves the phone back into his pocket. The curse has retreated for now, tired of trying to get through Infinity. It begins pacing back and forth, blood dripping from various cuts along its body, mouth still filled with foam. The curse begins to growl menacingly, a low noise that comes from deep in its chesk, making the hair on Satoru’s arms stand. There’s sweat beading along his forehead with the amount of concentration and cursed energy he has to use.

“How long do you think they’ll be?” Satoru whispers, not taking his eyes off the curse. There’s an aching pain behind his eyes, he’s never used this many techniques in one day.

Suguru wraps his other arm around Satoru’s chest as well, “I can’t say for sure. How long do you think you can last?”

“I can’t say for sure,” Satoru repeats with a grimace. Pain shoots through his brain as the curse once again rushes forward and is stopped by Infinity. Something warm spurts from his nose and when he raises a hand to touch it, Satoru sees that it’s blood.

“Fuck,” he curses lowly.

“Are we just supposed to sit here and wait till we either die or backup comes?” Suguru says with a worried voice.

“I’m open to suggestions, Einstein,” Satoru snaps. He hesitates, “Actually, there is something I might be able to do. A cursed technique.”

Suguru jumps behind him, jostling Satoru in his lap. “Why the hell haven’t you done it yet?”

“Because I haven’t mastered the technique yet. It could kill the curse but it could just as easily rebound and kill us.”

Suguru deflates behind him, and Satoru suddenly realizes how intimate their position is. He’s surrounded by Suguru’s scent, overpowering the curse’s own rotten stench and alleviating some of the pain in his head. Suguru’s warmth also feels like it’s branding Satoru’s back, and he stiffens at the touch.

“You’re too close,” Satoru says, expression pained.

“I’m against a cliff, I can’t exactly move away,” Suguru responds, annoyance tinging his voice. As if it can sense that the two of them are ignoring it the curse rushes forward with a screech. It runs into Infinity once again, however this time it manages to get closer before slowing.

A litany of curses escape Satoru’s lips as he once again shoves himself as close to Suguru’s chest as he can, more blood spurting from his nose and the ache behind his eyes becoming more pronounced. Suguru yelps as Satoru basically climbs onto his dick, putting his entire weight on the organ.

“You’re crushing my dick,” Suguru shouts, grabbing Satoru’s waist.

“Oh I’m sorry. Why don’t I just get up and walk away, see how long you fare without me huh tough guy?”

“No, no, no,” Suguru backtracks immediately, panic lacing his words. “I-I actually love getting my dick crushed!”

“That’s what I fucking thought,” Satoru snaps, eyes focused on the curse as it retreats with a growl. It’s dark skin is twitching with agitation, it’s getting impatient.

“It got closer this time. Why did it get closer?” Suguru asks, grip tightening around Satoru’s waist.

“Because this shit is exhausting,” Satoru growls. “And I don’t think I can keep this up for much longer. I have to do the technique.”

Suguru sighs, “Might as well. We’re dead either way.”

Satoru takes a deep breath and lets it out, extending his arm out towards the creature. The curse is pacing in front of them once again, glaring straight at them in that eerie way as if it sees right through him. Satoru can’t help the shudder that runs through his body as he drops his arm, the curse is getting into his head somehow, rattling his confidence. Suguru suddenly reaches forward and grabs his biceps, running his hands up and down their length. Satoru feels warmth in them, generated by the friction Suguru’s hands create.

Suguru leans forward and whispers directly into Satoru’s ear, “You’ve got this.”

Satoru leans back into Suguru’s embrace, confidence bolstered by the steady weight at his back. Suguru’s scent is wafting in the air, surrounding him until he can’t smell anything else. He finds himself relaxing, strength coming into his body from an unknown reservoir. Satoru’s mind is dizzy with Suguru’s pheromones, yet strangely he’s never been more clear headed. He focuses his gaze on the cursed spirit and once again raises his arm. Satoru focuses his cursed energy to the tips of his fingers, once again amplifying Limitless and his negative cursed energy. He swirls it around into a ball as fast as he can until he creates Blue. But he doesn’t let it go yet. Satoru takes a deep breath, and uses his reversal technique to invert the properties of Blue. His cursed energy gets pulled out of him in a sudden rush that leaves him weak, there’s an intense pain behind his eyes and he can feel more warm blood spurting from his nose but he pushes through.

“Cursed Technique Reversal: Red,” he whispers before he activates the divergence of Infinity and lets the technique shoot forward towards the curse. The deep ball of crimson energy flies towards the cursed spirit with twice the power and speed as Blue, so fast that the curse doesn’t have time to dodge. When it makes contact, the curse bursts apart in a shower of blood and gore as it’s violently repelled from the technique in all directions. The only thing that protects the two of them from getting caught up in the blast is the fact that Satoru keeps Infinity up throughout the process. Immediately after the technique left his hands, Satoru falls back against Suguru’s chest, limp. A bone crushing exhaustion hits him like a train, and he can’t even muster the energy to hold himself up. Satoru’s just barely aware of how Suguru’s chest shakes with hysterical laughter.

“You owe me big time,” he croaks before his vision goes black.

Chapter Text

Satoru jolts up and immediately doubles over with a groan as pain radiates throughout his body.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he mumbles while clutching his ribs. He turns his bleary gaze up to look around the room, forced to squint as the bright light feels like knives in his eyes. There’s a hazy figure with a crown of dark hair sitting in a chair beside him becoming clearer by the second.

“Suguru?” Satoru mutters.

“Sorry to disappoint,” Shoko drawls, raising a hand to her mouth and taking a puff of her ever present cigarette. “Lover boy is currently unavailable.”

Satoru groans, pointedly ignoring the second half of her response. “Close the curtains.”

Shoko raises a brow, not moving from her seat.

“Please,” he grits out.

Satisfied, the beta stands up and makes her way to the windows and pulls the curtains closed, dimming the light but not eliminating it completely. She then makes her way back to the chair beside Satoru’s bed, turning on a lamp situated next to them. Without the sun shining into the room as strongly, Satoru finds that the splitting headache that plagued him ever since he woke is weakened and his vision becomes clearer. He looks around, finally able to make out his surroundings. They’re sitting in the infirmary at Jujutsu Tech, and Satoru’s lying in one of the beds reserved for students. The infirmary is otherwise empty, and there’s a pang in his chest at that. Satoru was hoping for another presence to be there when he woke up, maybe lying in the bed beside his own.

“We more or less know what happened, thanks to Suguru,” Shoko’s voice interrupts his thoughts. “Yaga-sensei still wanted me to get your side of the story.”

Satoru grunts, turning his head to the side and eyeing the empty chair next to Shoko’s. He’s bothered more than he’d care to admit by a specific alpha’s absence. “Speaking of, where is Suguru anyway?” Satoru can’t help the sullen tone in his voice. He did save the other boy’s life after all. It wouldn’t kill Suguru to show some gratitude and be here when he woke up.

“In the showers,” Shoko says breezily, typing something into her phone before setting it aside. “He was starting to stink after spending basically a week by your bedside, so I kicked him out.”

Satoru’s eyes bulge at her words, “I’ve been out for a week!?”

Shoko’s previously easy expression immediately turns sour. “You got off easy,” She growls, leaning forward in her seat. “Whatever cursed technique you used out there absolutely shredded your insides. I had a hell of a time knitting your internal organs back together. You were bleeding out like crazy on the inside.”

Satoru goes quiet at her scolding, biting his lip as he digests her words. “And Suguru was with me the whole time?” he asks tentatively, body relaxing at the thought and no longer as annoyed with the alpha.

Shoko barks out a laugh, “Satoru, you almost died. I think Suguru is the least of your worries.”

He blinks, “You just said all the bleeding was internal though. That’s where the blood is supposed to be, right?”

The beta stares at him in awe, “For someone so smart, you sure are dumb.”

Satoru bristles, “Just tell me everything that happened while I was out.”

Shoko sighs, falling back in her chair. “Well, we rushed over to the bridge as soon as we got your call and found you guys walking on the side of the road. Well, Suguru was walking, you were knocked out and carried in his arms.”

Satoru blushes, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by Shoko. “That asshole,” he grumbles half-heartedly.

Shoko rolls her eyes, “We took you both back to Jujutsu High while Suguru filled us in along the way. Refused to let go of you by the way, got all territorial and started posturing. Growled at anyone who tried to get close. Must’ve been the adrenaline and exhaustion kicking his alpha hindbrain to the forefront or something.”

Satoru lifts a hand to tuck some stray strands of hair behind an ear while biting his bottom lip. “Yeah, of course of course.” There’s a smug undertone to his words; the primal part of him can’t help but be satisfied that an alpha he took an interest in was showing interest back. His hand spasms as he realizes what he’s doing though, and he quickly drops it in favor of clenching the sheets covering his lap.

“When we got back, we rushed you in here and I got to work right away.” Shoko grimaces as she remembers the grueling process. “It was . . . bad.”

Satoru quirks a brow, “How bad?”

“Bad enough that I actually didn’t think you’d make it for a while there.”

Satoru falls back against his pillows with a simple exhale, “Ah. Gotcha.”

“While you were in surgery, Yaga-sensei was ripping into the higher ups. They of course denied any and all involvement in this. But as soon as you pulled through, they were very insistent about wanting to see you in person.”

Satoru snorts, shoving his hands beneath the covers. “I bet they were. Alone too, with no one to watch.”

“We weren’t going to let them of course,” Shoko continues. “Everyone knows their plans for you. Suguru was especially adamant on not letting them be alone with you. In fact he told them, in person, to go fuck themselves.”

Satoru’s eyes widen as he imagines it. Suguru’s resolute frame filled with righteous fury and his overwhelming alpha presence telling those old geezers where to stuff it. He wishes he’d been awake to see the expressions on their faces, there’s already a wicked smile spreading across his face at just the thought.

“He was by your bedside the whole time you were out. He barely left and I ended up kicking him out because his scent was getting so thick in here that I could practically taste it.” Shoko wrinkles her nose at the thought.

Satoru discreetly breathes in the air, trying to get a whiff of Suguru’s pheromones to no avail. He blames his lapse in judgment on his omega hindbrain. It’s been kicked into overdrive with the recent near death experience it’s been through and is desperately trying to cling to the nearest available alpha in search of comfort.

Shoko smirks, “I did a deep clean after he left so don’t even try it. I bet he’ll give you an old shirt of his if you ask though.”

Satoru sits back with a haughty sniff, trying to act aloof and unbothered. “Why would I ask him for something like that?”

Shoko opens her mouth but before she can speak they both hear rapid footfalls approaching from outside the door. It flies open with a thud and in the frame is Suguru, hair falling in wet waves down his back and wearing a simple white tanktop with his stupid bontan pants. Satoru’s gaze hungrily takes in the other boy’s frame; his eyes rove over Suguru’s broad shoulders, his firm biceps, and the hint of his abs that can be seen since the tanktop is clinging to his still damp body.

And if Satoru squints, he can even faintly make out a dark trail of hair leading down Suguru’s navel. Something he swears he doesn’t do though, no matter what Shoko says later on. Instead, he notices how Suguru’s chest rises and falls rapidly as the alpha pants, having run from wherever he’d been previously. There’s a couple beads of water running down his neck, across his collarbone and into the cleft of his well defined pecs. Satoru wants to lick those droplets.

“He’s awake?” Suguru gasps out.

Shoko simply gestures a hand at Satoru, who is very much sitting up in bed and conscious. Suguru’s previously tense shoulders fall in relief, and Satoru can see the way the rest of his body relaxes when it finally sinks in that Satoru is in fact awake. Suguru makes his way over to Satoru’s bedside, falling into the chair next to Shoko’s.

“You’re awake,” Suguru repeats, eyes darting over Satoru’s features, as if trying to convince himself of the fact. The utter joy in Suguru’s face at seeing him awake stuns Satoru, and he can barely speak for a moment. There’s a lump in his throat. He can’t remember the last time someone was so happy to see him.

“Yeah,” Satoru replies a little breathlessly, unable to look away from Suguru’s frame. “I’m awake.”

“Alright I’m out,” Shoko interrupts, standing up from her seat. “I can’t stand you two any longer. I’ll be back though. I still have things I need to talk to you about, Satoru.”

“Okay,” Satoru responds absentmindedly. In the back of his mind he hears Shoko leave, closing the door behind her but it’s overshadowed by the way Suguru subtly shifts his chair closer to Satoru’s bedside. There’s an awkward silence after Shoko leaves, and both boys are left alone for the first time since the incident.

“So,” Satoru starts. “How’ve you been?”

Suguru waves a hand dismissively. “Other than my pride, I got out unharmed. You on the other hand . . . ”

Satoru rolls his eyes with a groan, falling back against his pillows petulantly. “Don’t start lecturing me. Shoko already did that before you came.”

Suguru throws his hands up, most likely exasperated with Satoru’s lack of regard for his own life. “She’s right, you know. You almost died, Satoru.”

“Awwww,” Satoru coos, leaning forward to get a better look at the alpha’s expression. “Were you worried about me, Suguru?”

Suguru’s face turns somber, eyebrows furrowing and lips thinning out into a severe line. “Yeah. I was.”

Satoru’s stunned silent by the other boy’s genuine response and his mouth gapes open for a moment, unable to think of a suitable comeback to regain control of the conversation. But he doesn’t need to, because Suguru continues.

“Seeing you lying on the bed for a week, so pale and lifeless and . . . subdued,” Suguru falters for a second before pushing through. “It was scary. And for the first time, I realized how dangerous it is being a Jujutsu Sorcerer. I was arrogant and overconfident and it almost got you killed. I sat here for a whole week, just staring at your lifeless body and I couldn’t help but wonder, what if you didn’t wake up again?”

Suguru’s last words come out with a slight tremble, barely noticeable if Satoru wasn’t listening so closely. The alpha himself is staring at the floor, hair falling around his face. Suguru’s shoulders are hunched over as well, making him seem much smaller than he actually is. There’s a sour scent in the air, and Satoru recognizes it as Suguru’s sadness, mixed with the bitter hints of guilt and shame. He’s seized by the sudden urge to fix this situation somehow, to do something to lighten the air. Satoru recognizes it as an omegan desire, the want to lift your alpha’s mood. But strangely, he doesn’t care about that. All he knows is that the scent of Suguru’s misery upsets him.

Satoru tentatively reaches out a hand and rests it lightly on the warm skin of Suguru’s arm. He’s not used to comforting others, and isn’t completely sure he won’t make it worse but he has to try. “Hey. This wasn’t your fault. Neither of us knew what those decrepit old men had planned.”

Suguru snorts, looking up through the dark curtain of his hair with a tired smile. “Thanks, but you don’t have to try so hard to make me feel better. Even if it wasn’t my fault, I wasn’t exactly a big help either. Speaking of those old men though . . .”

Suguru’s last words are said in a growl, hands fisting against his knees. His previously sour scent turns sharper, the acrid hint of anger invading Satoru’s nose. The anger is clearly not pointed at him though, and his instincts practically purr at the way Suguru is becoming furious for him. Satoru mentally pats himself on the back for successfully changing the atmosphere.

“They wanted to see you while you were unconscious,” Suguru grits out. “Alone.”

Satoru raises a brow, unsurprised. “And what’d they want?”

There’s a pained expression on Suguru’s face, as if it hurts him to even say the words. “They were talking about . . . ‘ensuring that the Six Eyes and Limitless continue to prosper despite your state of deep unconsciousness and maybe death’.” His last words are said as if quoting someone from memory.

Satoru sighs, hand falling away from Suguru’s arm. “They never get tired of spouting the same old bullshit, do they?”

It’s Suguru’s turn to stare at Satoru with his mouth gaping open. “How can you be so casual about this? They were going to violate you.”

He waves a hand carelessly in the alpha’s direction, “They’ve been pulling shit like this ever since I presented. Lemme guess, Naobito Zenin was with them?”

Suguru sputters, “I- yeah. How did you know?”

“He’s the one they’ve elected to ‘do the deed.’ Decided he was best suited for the task long ago, both in terms of strength and rank.” Satoru sounds bored, as if he’s quoting the weather, scent purposefully neutral. But of course he does. This is something he’s long since trained himself to act casually with. Any hint of weakness detected by his enemies, or even his own clan, would be seen as an opportunity to undermine him. He can’t help the minute trembling of his hands though, something that Suguru clearly notices if the distressed furrow of his brows is anything to go by.

Satoru mentally chides himself. This isn’t the first time the higher ups had tried to take advantage of him while he was in a weakened state. But he’d always been aware enough that they’d never had the balls to try anything too drastic. This time though . . . if Yaga-sensei, Shoko and Suguru hadn’t been on his side they might have succeeded. The acrid scent of anger in the air had been becoming more and more overwhelming while Satoru had been speaking, but as soon as Suguru noticed the shake in Satoru’s hands he took a deep breath and the scent gradually faded as the alpha collected his emotions.

Suguru reaches out a hand and gently takes Satoru’s into his own. The warmth radiating from them feels scorching, and Satori wants that warmth to consume his whole body. “It doesn’t matter if this is something that’s normal to you.” His voice is soft, as if explaining something complicated to a child. “It shouldn’t be.”

Satoru bites his lip and gulps hard at a rising ball in his throat. There’s a burning feeling in his nose and Satoru’s eyes are very clearly misty. Suguru pointedly turns his face away and allows him to gather himself. Satoru reaches up his free hand to rub furiously at his eyes before clearing his throat, signaling to Suguru that it’s ok to look at him again.

Suguru pulls away to run a hand through his hair in embarrassment, the one previously clasped in Satoru’s own. He reaches for Suguru again before he catches himself and snatches his hand back, hoping Suguru didn’t notice. He didn’t thankfully, too busy staring at the floor again. “I just realized I never thanked you for saving my life.”

Satoru perks up, confidence bolstered after being reminded that he has something to hold over the alpha. This is more familiar ground for him. “You’re right. You didn’t thank me for risking my life and almost getting myself killed to save you.”

Suguru chuckles, and Satoru finds himself riveted by the sound. He wonders what it sounds like when Suguru laughs for real, deep from his stomach. Satoru watches as Suguru’s eyes crinkle at the corners in amusement, “Thank you for saving my life. I owe you one.”

Satoru’s chest warms at the expression, and an answering smile spreads across his face. “Yeah. You do.”

They stare at each other for a moment; there’s a tension in the air and it feels as if there’s electricity crackling between them. Something Satoru can’t quite name is blooming between them, something he’s almost afraid to name. He can’t bring himself to speak, refusing to break whatever it is that’s in the air. And strangely enough, he doesn’t want Suguru to leave.

Suguru clears his throat, “Well. I should probably get going. Shoko said you needed your rest.” He rises from his seat, and Satoru is struck with the childish urge to clutch at his arm and beg him to stay. He just barely manages to keep the urge at bay.

“I’ll come see you again soon, yeah?” Suguru asks. Satoru simply nods in response, unable to trust himself to not say something stupid if he opens his mouth. Despite his less than enthusiastic response, the alpha grins down at him before turning around and heading toward the door.

“Let me know if you need anything!” With that parting statement, Suguru’s gone. All that’s left to show he was even here in the first place is the lingering scent in the air. Satoru finds himself inhaling hungrily, taking in the last remnants of the alpha’s presence. The scent calms his nerves, and he reminds himself that Suguru didn’t leave for good. He’d be back.

Satoru absentmindedly raises his hand to eye level and flexes it, remembering the way the alpha's hand had covered it and the warmth that radiated from it. There’s an ache in his chest, and somehow he knows it’s not related to any injuries he sustained. Satoru lets himself fall back against the pillows, staring at the ceiling. He should go to sleep he knows; his body needs time to rest and recover from everything he’s been through. He doesn’t though. Instead, Satoru lies awake in bed for a long time, tracing the curve of Suguru's smile in his memory and remembering the warmth he’d felt while the alpha was here. When he does fall asleep, it’s because of his utter exhaustion rather than any conscious effort on his part.

* * * * *

When he wakes up, Shoko is once again sitting beside him staring down at her phone. Satoru turns his head away to groan loudly into the pillows.

“Yeah, yeah,” Shoko grins. “I’m not exactly delighted to see you again either, Princess.”

Satoru’s brows furrow and he sits up against the pillows to see her better. “Princess?”

“Suguru coined the nickname. I thought it was fitting.” Shoko sets her phone aside to focus her attention more fully on him.

“Whatever,” Satoru grumbles, raising a hand to rub away the lasting ache behind his eyes. “Why are you here?”

Shoko raises a brow. “Instead of a certain alpha?”

“No,” Satoru vehemently denies. “Absolutely not. I don’t care whether Suguru’s here or not.”

“I never said Suguru’s name though,” Shoko responds mildly, arms crossed in front of her.

Satoru glares at the beta, resenting her uncanny ability to see through people. “Just tell me why you’re here.”

Shoko’s expression immediately turns serious and she uncrosses her legs to lean forward in her seat. “How are you feeling? Are there any lasting pains?”

Satoru exhales loudly, mentally checking his body over. “Other than a low grade migraine and an ache behind my eyes that’s been there ever since I woke up, no.”

“I thought so,” Shoko mutters. “You overexerted yourself and this is the result.”

“It should go back to normal soon though, right?”

Shoko grimaces. “Normally yes. But there’s something interfering with your cursed energy’s ability to right itself.” She eyes him curiously. “How long have you been on suppressants?”

Satoru avoids her gaze, suddenly incredibly interested in the stitching on the blanket. “A while.”

“Satoru,” her voice is deceptively calm. “How long have you been on suppressants?”

He scowls at his hands as they fidget with the covers, “Ever since I presented.”

Shoko sucks in a breath, “Shit. It’s been what, six years?”

“Give or take.”

“And you haven’t had a single heat?”

“I had two,” Satoru defends. “Well. More like one and a half.”

Shoko barks out a laugh, “Lemme guess, one was when you presented?”

Satoru ducks his head, avoiding eye contact and confirming her suspicion.

“Satoru,” Shoko groans. “You know that doesn’t count.”

“Says who,” He grumbles.

Shoko shakes her head, exasperated. “I had a hunch but you just confirmed it. The thing interfering with your cursed energy’s ability to right itself is the imbalance of hormones in your body.”

Satoru grits his teeth, already guessing what she’s going to say.

“You need to get off your suppressants and go through a couple heats. You’ve already missed some doses since you were unconscious for so long, so just keep it up. Your cycle should start back up soon enough.”

“That’s exactly what I don’t want,” Satoru growls, shoulders hunched.

Shoko reaches into her pocket and pulls out a box of cigarettes, grabbing one with her mouth. “Well, your other option is to sit in agony as your pain gets worse and your cursed energy quite literally rips you up from the inside trying to fix your hormone imbalance. Your choice.”

There’s not really any options to be honest, but Satoru refuses to let himself even think of going through his heats. While he doesn’t completely lose control of himself during them, his instincts are pushed more to the forefront during them which means the choices he makes aren’t always of sound mind. Satoru’s vulnerable during his heats, something that he’s gravely aware of. There’s a pressure over his hand and he looks down to see Shoko’s hand resting over his clenched fist. There’s blood seeping from in between his knuckles because of how hard he’d been squeezing.

“We’d never let anything happen to you,” Shoko says softly.

And Satoru knows that. He knows how much Yaga-sensei and Shoko care about him, how they’d do their absolute best to ensure he’s safe during such a vulnerable time. But his instincts refuse to get the hint, absolutely convinced that he’s not safe yet, the trauma from his childhood still vivid in his mind. Satoru can feel himself hunching over, trying to make himself smaller in light of the distressing information and there’s a humming in his chest that sounds strangely close to a whimper wanting to come out. He wants his suppressants. He wants to be left alone. He wants . . . He wants Suguru.

As if his very thoughts had summoned the alpha, there’s a knock at the door and Suguru himself walks in carrying a tray of food. He freezes midway through the frame, sensing the tense atmosphere.

“Is this a bad time?” He asks awkwardly, balancing the tray in one hand while holding the door open with his other.

“No,” Satoru answers quickly as he discreetly wipes the blood on his hands against the covers. “Absolutely not. Come on in.”

Shoko shoots him a frown, but doesn’t say anything at the hasty change in subject. Something that Satoru’s incredibly thankful for.

Suguru walks over and sits in the second chair situated by Satoru’s bedside, setting the tray down on the covers. His hair is dry this time, pinned up in his usual bun and he’s wearing a soft, well-worn t-shirt. “I brought dinner.”

Satoru’s instincts are elated; his alpha is providing for him! But he squashes the thought as soon as it rises, instead giving Suguru a subdued smile, “Thank you.”

Suguru grins back. “No problem!”

Satoru looks down at the meal, pointedly avoiding Shoko’s gaze. There’s steaming rice porridge on the tray next to a glass of orange juice and a banana. Not the most delicious meal, but it certainly contains nutrients he sorely needs. But Satoru’s suddenly struck by a bout of exhaustion. His eyes are starting to throb again and the low-grade migraine has now developed into something more severe. The conversation he had with Shoko had taken a bigger mental toll on him than he thought. An impulse strikes him then, a childish impulse, but for the life of him he can’t remember why that’s bad.

“Suguru,” he calls out. “Feed me.”

Suguru’s brows furrow down in confusion while Shoko’s rise in shocked amusement.

“Feed you?” Suguru echoes.

“You said you owed me big time,” Satoru reminds him.

“Well, yeah . . . ”

“My eyes hurt, my head hurts, my whole body hurts,” he complains. “And I don’t have the energy to even lift a finger because of a splitting headache.”

Suguru still doesn’t look quite convinced, head tilted as he tries to connect the dots Satoru is so helpfully tracing for him.

“Because of the wounds I got saving your life,” he adds with a pout, and that’s what finally gets Suguru to move. The alpha’s face instantly contorts with guilt, and Satoru would feel bad about it if Suguru didn’t begin to move his chair closer to the bed as a result. He grabs the spoon sitting on the tray to scoop a portion of rice porridge before bringing it up to Satoru’s mouth.

Satoru curls his lip, “It’s too hot.”

Suguru clenches the fist he has rested against the bed, face going through so many emotions in the span of a few seconds, and for a moment Satoru thinks the alpha’s going to hit him. But Suguru simply takes a deep breath and brings the spoon closer to his own lips to blow on it. He then brings the spoon back to Satoru’s lips allowing him to take a bite.

“Is it good?” Suguru asks gruffly.

Satoru chews for a moment before swallowing. Surprisingly, it is good. Extra sweet, just how he likes it. “It’s passable.”

Suguru glowers at him, but Satoru doesn’t miss the way he sits up straighter in his chair or how the faint scent of smug pleasure drifts in the air. Despite his best efforts, Suguru is an alpha after all. And the alpha in him must be incredibly pleased at having provided for an omega. Satoru’s own instincts are going haywire at Suguru’s closeness and care, so there’s no way Suguru himself is unaffected.

“He made that himself you know,” Shoko says, bringing their attention back to her. The expression on her face is one of calculated nonchalance

Suguru sputters beside her while Satoru raises a brow, “Really?”

“Yup,” she confirms. “Kept asking me again and again what your tastes were like. I told him you liked your food disgustingly sweet.”

“I do,” Satoru agrees, opening his mouth for another bite. Suguru sighs but dutifully spoons up more porridge and blows on it before bringing it up to Satoru’s mouth once again.

“The palette of a child,” Suguru chuckles. “And I should know. I have two younger sisters after all.”

Satoru scowls in the alpha’s direction and raises a hand to snap his fingers in Suguru’s face. “Hey! Less talking, more feeding.”

Suguru grins, unrepentant. His expression is soft, almost indulgent despite Satoru’s unreasonable demands. Satoru doesn’t want to think about what that could mean.

A ringing sound comes from Shoko’s direction and she pulls out the source, her phone, to take a look at it. Shoko frowns down at the screen for a moment before typing something rapidly. She then shoves the phone back into her pocket before standing up from her seat.

“As much as I’ve enjoyed my time with you guys,” she drawls. “I have work to do unlike a couple of slackers I know.”

Satoru bats his eyelashes at her in an exaggerated fashion, “You couldn’t be referring to me, could you?”

Shoko simply snorts in disgust before turning away and heading towards the door. “Don’t forget what I talked to you about,” she calls out as she lets the door click shut behind her.

Satoru frowns, mood instantly plummeting at Shoko’s reminder. His heats. Despite his best efforts, he can’t help the way the air sours with the scent of his anxiety, something Suguru is keenly aware of. As soon as he’d gotten a whiff, the alpha had tensed up in his seat. He was probably being bombarded by his instincts telling him to calm the distressed omega in front of him.

“So,” Suguru begins awkwardly, shifting in his chair. “What were you guys talking about before I came in? It sounded heated.”

Satoru’s in no mood to humor the alpha, but he wouldn’t mind seeing him squirm a little. Suguru seems like the prim and proper type, so it’s no doubt that talking about heats and ruts and everything that goes on during them would fluster him.

“She was talking about my heats,” Satoru says, making sure to enunciate each word.

Suguru simply blinks, tilting his head in confusion. He sets the bowl of porridge down to give Satoru his full attention. “What about them?”

Satoru frowns. This wasn’t the direction he thought this conversation would take. “I’ve been on my suppressants for too long so I have to go through a couple. Heats.”

Instead of becoming flustered, Suguru relaxes at his words and Satoru’s left staring at him. Suguru even chuckles a little bit, leaning back in his chair. “That’s all? I thought it was something much more serious.”

“It is though,” Satoru insists. “We’re talking about heats here.”

“Yeah, a natural bodily function, just like ruts are.” Suguru raises a brow, crossing his arms in front of himself. “With the way you’re talking, I’m starting to think you’ve never had one.”

Satoru blushes furiously, the heat rising in his cheeks taking even himself by surprise. He quickly looks away from Suguru, not wanting the alpha to see him embarrassed.

There’s a stunned silence before Suguru speaks, tripping over his own words. “You’ve never been–. Wait. So. How long have you been on–?”

“A long time ok?” Satoru interrupts furiously.

There’s another silence, before Suguru hesitantly speaks. “I don’t think that’s healthy.”

“Yeah?” Satoru responds crossly. “Well I didn’t have much of a choice with the higher ups breathing down my neck.” There’s a bitter tone to his words.

Suguru pauses, “You’re right. I should’ve guessed, I’m sorry. But, I still don’t see why having your heat now is so bad?”

Satoru stares at his hands for a long moment as they fidget with the covers. “When I–,” he stops almost right as the words come out of his mouth, a weight in his chest preventing him from speaking. He tries again to no avail. This time no words come out and he’s left opening and closing his mouth like a suffocating fish. Satoru curses lowly, frustrated tears welling up in his eyes that he refuses to let fall. It’s been years already. Why is it still so hard for him to talk about?

Suguru reaches forward slowly, making sure his movements are clear to Satoru. He rests his hand on top of Satoru’s fidgeting ones, stopping the agitated movement of the omega’s fingers.

“Take your time,” Suguru’s voice is heart wrenchingly gentle, as if Satoru’s made of glass that could shatter at any moment. It’s a new experience for him, and he can’t say he minds. Satoru stares down at Suguru’s hand resting atop his own, and slowly turns his hand over so that they’re resting palm to palm. He lets his fingers wind their way gingerly into the gaps between Suguru’s fingers, until their hands are lying in his lap interlocked. Satoru stops breathing for a moment; he can feel the steady pulse of Suguru’s heartbeat against his palms as well as the many calluses that dot the alpha’s hands. The warmth radiating from his skin feels scorching against his own, a soothing balm on his frayed nerves. He traces the shape of Suguru’s knuckles with his free hand, feeling the many calluses and scars lining the alpha’s worn hands. Suguru’s firm presence beside him gives him strength, and just like in the forest against the curse, he feels it well up from an unknown reservoir.

“My experiences with heats have been . . . less than ideal,” Satoru finally admits after a lengthy pause, gaze firmly fixated on their intertwined palms.

Suguru chuckles lowly, a rich sound Satoru wishes he could bottle up and carry with him wherever he goes. “I never would've guessed.”

Satoru scowls, still refusing to lock eyes with the alpha beside him. “I’ve only had two. Well. One and half,” he amends.

Suguru begins to stroke the back of Satoru’s hand with his thumb, and he almost loses track of the conversation. The alpha hums, jolting Satoru back to the topic at hand.

“The first time,” he exhales loudly. “Was when I presented. The heat itself wasn’t bad, I barely remember it. But as the wielder of both the Six Eyes and Limitless, everyone had certain expectations for me. Those expectations didn’t include presenting as an omega.”

Satoru’s eyes glaze over as he’s pulled back into his memories, “My parents and the rest of the higher ups were less than pleased when I presented. They had no idea what to do with me. I’m pretty sure my father considered selling me off to the highest bidder a couple times.”

“That’s not right,” Suguru growls, hand tightening around Satoru’s.

Satoru chuckles hollowly, almost amused by Suguru’s righteous personality. “Right and wrong have little say in Jujutsu Society, as I’m sure you’ve come to find.”

Just as he’d thought, Suguru has nothing to say against that. He’s now witnessed first hand how cruel and elitist their world is. Jujutsu Society has little patience for the righteous. “What about the second time?” Suguru questions hesitantly.

Satoru hums quizzically in response, still lost in his memories.

“You said you’ve had two heats in your lifetime,” Suguru clarifies. “What happened the second time?”

“Well, the second time my father payed a mercenary alpha to rape me,” Satoru says flatly. “He didn’t succeed of course,” he adds almost as an afterthought.

Instantly the air is permeated by the visceral scent of horror, and when Satoru turns to look at Suguru the alpha’s expression is a battle between rage and revulsion. Suguru jolts up from his seat, and paces rapidly back and forth across the room. Satoru absentmindedly stares at his empty hand, flexing it. He misses the heat of Suguru’s palm.

“That’s disgusting,” Suguru spits out, rage winning the battle of his emotions. The spicy and overwhelming scent of anger invades Satoru’s nostrils and he almost chokes from how thick it is.

“Hey idiot,” Satoru says crossly. “Your pheromones are leaking.”

Suguru freezes, turning back around to face Satoru sheepishly. Gradually the overwhelming scents in the air recede until he’s once more able to breath easily. Suguru then slowly sets himself back down in his seat with a deep breath.

“How could they do that to you?” Suguru wonders, words practically dripping acid.

“They’ve done a lot worse,” Satoru says dispassionately, remembering a certain elderly alpha woman from his youth. There’s a lengthy silence, and Satoru doesn’t know what to expect from the alpha.

“Your dad sucks ass,” Suguru starts solemnly. “And if I ever see him, I’m going to feed him to my cursed spirits.”

Despite the somber atmosphere, Satoru can’t help but burst out laughing. Just the thought of Suguru doing something like that to his father, someone whose presence has always been larger than life in his mind, is just so bewildering that he has no idea how else to react.

“You just might get the chance,” Satoru manages, still giggling. “He’s still alive much to my dismay.”

“Good,” Suguru grins, unable to help himself in the face of Satoru’s mirth. He stares for a moment as Satoru reaches a hand up to wipe away an imaginary tear, hesitating despite their already intimate conversation.

“You don’t need to be . . . scared of them, you know,” Suguru says carefully.

Satoru’s brows furrow, and his mouth twists into something less amused. “I’m not scared of them,” he says scornfully.

Suguru sighs, already used to Satoru’s boundless pride. “All I’m trying to say is that you’re not the same kid you were all those years ago. You’re strong. The strongest in fact.”

Suguru had said it so naturally, as if there'd never been any question about that. As if Satoru hadn’t fought all his life to earn the right to that title. It takes his breath away, the frank acknowledgement of his strength without anything said to undermine it.

“And besides,” Suguru adds. “You have people in your corner this time. Shoko, Yaga-sensei.” He hesitates for a moment, “You’ve got me too.”

“I do?” Satoru whispers, voice trembling with something he refuses to call hope.

“Of course you do,” Suguru assures him. “Me and you against the world. There’s no one who could possibly stand against us. We’re the strongest after all!”

Satoru’s breath catches in his throat, heart beating overtime in his chest. Suguru’s trying to kill him, but he can’t say he minds. “I didn’t know my title applied to you as well.”

“Of course it does,” Suguru grins. “I’ve more than earned it after beating you.”

“Beginner's luck,” Satoru grumbles, fiddling with his sheets to hide the growing blush in his cheeks. He tilts his head down, desperately wishing his hair was longer so he could hide behind it better.

The alpha raises a brow. “Oh yeah? Well, as soon as you get better let’s have a rematch.”

Satoru finally raises his gaze to look at Suguru and instantly freezes. He’d always known Suguru was handsome, but at this moment he looks absolutely stunning. The alpha looks the same as he always does; Suguru’s hair is pinned up in his usual bun and he’s wearing a simple t-shirt with a pair of shorts. But there’s something about the endearing curve of his smile, the way his eyes soften when he looks at Satoru, and how the alpha’s body subtly leans towards his without even being aware of it. The barriers he’d carefully constructed around his heart are falling down right before his eyes, and he has one stupidly righteous alpha to blame for it.

“Pick a time and a place,” he finally manages, slightly breathless.

Suguru smirks, once again robbing Satoru of his ability to think. “As soon as you manage to get out of this bed without stumbling. Speaking of, I should probably let you get some rest. Shoko said not to tire you out too much.” Suguru sends a cursory glance at a clock hanging on the wall across from them. “I’ve got to go see Yaga-sensei in five minutes too.”

Suguru reaches a hand out and pats Satoru on the shoulder, completely unaware of the turmoil he’s sending him through. “I’ll see you later.” With those parting words, Suguru stands up and heads towards the door.

But there’s no way Satoru can let Suguru leave after gaining the upper hand in their conversation. He waits until Suguru has almost left the room before calling out, “Hey, Suguru?”

Suguru turns around, holding the door open with one hand. “Yeah?”

Satoru makes sure his lips are pressed into a firm line, eyebrows furrowed with worry. “I need you to do something for me before you leave.” He pauses for a moment, letting the anticipation build. “Can you turn the lamp off? I can’t sleep with the light on.”

Suguru blinks, “The lamp?”

Satoru nods.

“The lamp sitting on the table beside you?” He clarifies.

Satoru pouts, “My arms are sore.”

Suguru exhales loudly, shoulders falling in defeat before he trudges back towards Satoru and turns the lamp off so that they’re in complete darkness.

“Anything else you need, Princess?” He growls, earlier softness gone. The deep tone of Suguru’s voice does something to the pit of Satoru’s stomach. He hasn’t yet identified whether it’s butterflies or indigestion.

“Nope,” Satoru chirps, falling back against his pillows with a yawn. “You can go now,” he waves his hand towards the alpha, shooing him away. He’s planning on falling asleep without acknowledging his growing emotions; that’s a problem for future Satoru to face. He doesn’t hear anything for a long moment, but he can feel Suguru’s heavy presence still beside his bed, his breathing heavy in the silence. Just as he’s about to crossly demand why Suguru’s still standing there, the alpha’s presence comes closer in the dark until his lips are resting gently on Satoru’s brow.

“Goodnight, Satoru,” Suguru whispers against his forehead, his breath warm against Satoru’s skin. Before he can react, Suguru pulls back and quickly walks out of the room, letting the door click softly shut behind him.

Satoru’s eyes snap open, staring shocked at the ceiling. He’s definitely wide awake now.

Chapter Text

Suguru squints at Shoko where she sits across from him. She had just spoken, but her voice had been barely over a mumble so he hadn’t heard her. "What did you call me?"

Shoko tilts her head, "A coward." She makes sure to enunciate each syllable, ensuring that he hears her this time.

Suguru lifts his head to lock eyes with the beta sitting in a chair across from his desk. She’s got an eyebrow raised, with a half smoked cigarette dangling from her hand.

“What are you talking about?” He asks crossly. Suguru has been called many things throughout his life. Charming, witty, two-faced, intimidating, handsome, a terrible son, and a bit of an asshole. He’s never claimed to be a nice person, and he’d be the first to admit his personality isn’t the easiest to stomach. But he's never before been called a coward.

Shoko snorts, stubbing the end of her cigarette out on an ashtray conveniently placed near her elbow. “You’ve been avoiding Satoru for three days.”

Suguru bristles, “I haven’t been avoiding him. I just haven’t had a reason to go see him.” The excuse sounds weak, even to his own ears. And from the way Shoko snickers under her breath it doesn’t convince her either.

She leans back in her chair with a sigh, “Look, I honestly didn’t care about the little cat and mouse game you and Satoru were playing.”

Suguru sputters, face reddening at her words as he jolts up in his seat. “We weren’t playing–,”

“But the excessive pining is starting to get on my nerves,” Shoko says, talking over Suguru. She wrinkles her nose before continuing, “Satoru’s acting like a widow who lost her husband at war and I cannot stand another second of his exaggerated sighing.” She then levels Suguru with an absolutely withering glare, one that actually causes him to flinch, “So whatever you did, fix it.”

Suguru sinks in his seat, suitably chastised. Shoko was right; he was a coward. Ever since the kiss they shared, the kiss he’d initiated, Suguru had been avoiding Satoru. It wasn’t hard to do, what with the other boy being stuck in the infirmary until further notice.

“What exactly did you do?” Shoko asks, curious.

Suguru groans, “Something stupid.”

Shoko raises a brow, waiting for him to continue. Suguru taps his foot rapidly, raising a hand to run it through his hair before remembering he put it up in a bun this morning. He aborts the movement halfway through, opting instead to fiddle with his gauges.

“I . . . mayhavekissedSatoru,” Suguru mumbles, staring a hole into the wood of the desk.

Shoko squints, “What?”

“I kissed Satoru,” Suguru repeats, this time louder.

There’s an extended pause, during which Suguru wishes the floor would open up and swallow him whole. He can feel sweat pooling in his palms and his heartbeat is rising as he waits for Shoko’s reaction.

“That’s it?”

Suguru whips his head up to stare at her, mouth gaping open in surprise. “What do you mean that’s it?”

Shoko snorts, “You two aren’t exactly subtle.”

“That’s not true,” Suguru protests. There’s no way Shoko would know how he felt about Satoru, he doesn’t even know how he feels about Satoru yet.

Shoko levels him with a deadpan stare, “Suguru you practically fucked him on the training grounds. And Satoru let you.”

Shoko’s words call back the memory of that day. Satoru’s body underneath his had felt so warm, so soft, so right. His scent had been heavenly, some type of mix between cashmere musk and jasmine. Satoru had been so pliant to Suguru’s advances, had responded so beautifully to the slightest of nudges that Suguru had lost himself for a moment. And when he’d purred? Suguru had been gone, lost in a haze of instincts, alpha hindbrain immediately taking over the reins to respond with a deeper purr of his own, signaling that he was willing and ready. The same thing had happened in the forest, albeit to a much lesser degree. Suguru wasn’t the type to believe in soulmates or anything else along those lines, but Satoru had fit against his body so perfectly that for a moment he truly believed that they were made for each other.

“You’re thinking about it right now, aren’t you?” Shoko says, disgust dripping from her words.

Suguru shakes his head furiously, bringing himself back to the present. There’s a heat rising in his cheeks, and he digs his nails into his thighs to push it down. “You promised not to talk about that.”

“Yeah, well you two are getting on my damn nerves,” Shoko growls in response, slamming her fist down against the table. “Grow a pair and just confess to him already.”

“It’s not that easy,” he sighs, sinking lower in his seat. “Besides, he doesn’t exactly like me. I don’t even know if I like him.”

Shoko stares at him, head tilted in annoyed confusion. “Did you forget the part where he practically let you hump him in public?”

“That was just his instincts talking,” Suguru dismisses with an embarrassed huff.

Shoko groans, head falling back in exasperation. “Fine, fine. Let’s say it was his instincts. Didn’t he let you kiss him recently though?”

“I didn’t exactly give him a choice,” he mumbles sheepishly. “And I left before he could react.”

Shoko’s face goes through a range of expressions in the span of a couple seconds, finally settling on annoyed disgust. She brings a hand up to pinch the bridge of her nose, taking in a deep exaggerated breath before letting it out slowly. “Let’s forget about Satoru for a second. How do you feel about him?”

Suguru pauses for a moment as he considers her words. Until now, he’d never really stopped to consider what exactly Satoru meant to him. If he had to describe the boy in one word, Satoru is . . . frustrating. He’s cocky, arrogant, childish, petty and a huge asshole. But he’s also so much more. Satoru is beautiful, strong, brilliant, an absolute force of nature. He breaks through the mask Suguru wears so easily, pulling out his true self. Around Satoru, he doesn’t need to hide or hold back his emotions. For the first time in what feels like forever, he can be himself. And as much as people revere him as a God, Satoru’s also achingly human.

Suguru doesn’t know what it is exactly, but there’s something pulling him towards the other boy. It’s as if Satoru has his own gravitational pull, grabbing Suguru and dragging him into his orbit with that annoying smirk of his. A star, he decides. Gojo Satoru is a star, one that’s almost blinding in its intensity and Suguru is already caught in its grasp with no hope of ever breaking free. And worst of all, he doesn’t think he wants to break free.

“I like him,” Suguru says softly, staring at his hands as they lie clasped on the table. He gradually raises his gaze to look at Shoko, eyes slowly widening in horror as the full weight of his words hit him. Although he might have already known it on some subconscious level, this is the first time he’s verbalized his feelings. “I like Gojo Satoru.”

Shoko sends him a sympathetic look, “I can’t say much for your taste, but congrats.”

“I like Gojo Satoru,” Suguru repeats, letting his head fall forward into his hands, elbows braced against the desk.

Shoko snickers, grabbing her box of cigarettes from her pocket. “You have my condolences.”

Suguru barely notices, there’s a litany of fucks going through his mind. Of all the people he could’ve grown feelings for, why did it have to be Gojo Satoru? He falls back against his seat with a groan, head dangling over the back of the chair. Suguru brings his hands up to massage his temples, there’s already an ache growing at the thought of what this might mean for him.

He hears Shoko rattle her box of cigarettes at him, “Want one?”

“I shouldn’t,” he grunts, rolling his head around to look at her.

“Suit yourself,” Shoko shrugs before lighting up the one in her mouth.

“Didn’t Yaga-sensei say you can’t smoke in the school?” Suguru asks halfheartedly.

Shoko rolls her eyes, “Don’t be such a snitch. Besides, you’ve got bigger things to worry about than a little second-hand smoke.”

“Don’t remind me,” he sighs, crossing one ankle over the other under the desk.

“So, what’re you planning to do about it?” Shoko prods.

“Let my feelings sit and fester until I die,” Suguru deadpans with a self-deprecating smirk. “That’s my go-to solution. It’s worked out pretty well for me so far.”

Shoko raises a brow, staring at him for a second before abruptly changing the subject. “You know his heat is soon, right?”

Suguru’s brows furrow, “Yes?”

“I already told him, but it’s gonna be pretty bad,” Shoko continues conversationally. “This first one after getting off his suppressants is gonna be short, like a day or two at most, but it’s gonna hit him like a train.”

Suguru stiffens as he feels something inside him stir in distress at the thought of Satoru in pain.

“Managing it on his own is gonna be hell on earth probably. I can’t imagine having to deal with something like that alone, especially after everything he’s already been through,” Shoko says, taking an idle puff of her cigarette as she leans back in her chair, acting as if the matter doesn't concern her. “However, I do think that the presence of an alpha, especially one he likes, would help a lot. From a medical standpoint, of course.”

There’s a twinge in his chest, and Suguru raises a hand to rub at it softly. The stirring has become more of a roar now, his instincts practically screaming at him to do something about his omega’s pain.

“First of all,” Suguru starts, leaning forward with a finger pointed at her menacingly. “Fuck you for trying to use my compassionate nature as well as my inherent need as an alpha to nurture against me. That’s really shitty of you.”

“Oh please,” Shoko snorts. “You’re an even bigger asshole than Satoru. Is it working though?” She asks, almost as an afterthought.

“Yes.”

Shoko smirks, “Good. He’s in the infirmary. Go get him, hotshot.”

Suguru gets up angrily, fists clenched at his sides as he marches towards the door. Before leaving, he turns back around to face Shoko. “I hope both sides of your pillow are warm tonight and you wake up 20 minutes before your alarm,” he announces before promptly leaving and allowing the door to shut behind him.

* * * * *

When Suguru finally arrives in front of the infirmary, he stands in front of it in silence. His left foot is tapping against the floor and he rubs his sweaty palms dry against his pants. It’s just Satoru, he’s seen the boy so many times before. Yet somehow, after acknowledging his feelings, seeing him feels so much more . . . intimidating. Suguru feels a need to impress the other boy for some reason. He doesn’t want to do this, would much rather bury his feelings so far that they never resurface, but his instincts wouldn’t let him live if he didn’t. Suguru raises a hand and curls it into a fist, hesitating before actually rapping at the door.

“Just come in already,” Satoru’s annoyed voice calls out.

Suguru jumps a little, he didn’t think Satoru would know he was there, before slowly reaching a hand out and opening the door. He walks through the frame and stops in his tracks, breath catching in his throat at what he sees. Satoru is sitting on a cot in the room, propped up against some pillows. His face is turned away from Suguru, but the light coming from the window next to him lands on his hair, lighting it up in a stunning halo.

‘Did his hair always look so soft?’ Suguru wonders, a little hysterical. Satoru turns to face him, and Suguru knows instantly that he’s a goner. Although Satoru’s brows are furrowed down and his lips are set in annoyance, Suguru’s first thought is ‘how cute.’ There’s a slight sheen to them, as if he’d just put on some type of gloss alongside a healthy pink undertone to his pale skin. Bathed in sunlight, Satoru looks almost angelic. That is, until he speaks.

“Look what the curse dragged in,” Satoru drawls. “I was beginning to think you were avoiding me.”

Suguru shakes his head furiously, trying to clear the haze that had suddenly descended in his mind at the sight of Satoru. “Sorry,” he manages to rasp, walking forward to gingerly set himself down in the chair beside Satoru’s bed. Satoru eyes him expectantly, but Suguru simply stares back, hungrily taking in the other boy's features. Satoru’s eyes are beautiful, twin pools of blue that Suguru could drown in if he looked too deeply. They’re a shade of crystalline blue he’s seen only in his dreams, with pale streaks resembling the reflection of clouds. Beautiful doesn’t even come close to describing them.

“Well, were you?” Satoru demands.

“What?”

“Avoiding me!”

“No,” Suguru lies. “I was just . . . busy.”

Satoru frowns, but accepts the excuse. For a moment Suguru thinks that’s it, that maybe Satoru was asleep during the kiss and he’ll escape this encounter without having to explain himself. But he should know better by now.

“Why’d you kiss me?”

Suguru freezes, brain short circuiting at the words. A thousand scenarios fly through his mind in seconds, consisting of all the choices he could make in that moment as well as their individual aftermaths. He should tell the truth, confess his feelings. What’s the worst that could happen? You could lose him. And that single thought is sobering enough to have him bury the confession lying on the tip of his tongue.

“Old habits,” is what he finally blurts out, immediately cringing at how it sounds.

Satoru frowns, “You have a habit of kissing people?”

Suguru immediately backtracks, “No! Just. Back home. When I’d put my little sisters to sleep, I’d kiss them on the forehead.”

“Oh,” Satoru responds, looking almost disappointed. His fists are clenching and unclenching on his lap in front of him and Suguru remembers how he’d held those hands the other day, and how warm they’d felt in his. Suguru releases a small sigh, relieved that he’d averted the crisis for the moment. There’s a small voice in the back of his mind sounding suspiciously similar to Shoko’s calling him a coward, but Suguru ignores it.

“How are you feeling?” Suguru asks tentatively.

“Fine,” Satoru grunts, avoiding eye contact. His cheeks are tinged slightly, as if he has a fever.

“Are you sure?” Suguru asks worriedly, standing up and reaching a hand out to feel the other boy’s forehead. Just before his hand makes contact though, Satoru lunges back to avoid him. Suguru’s arm is left hanging in between them, Satoru looking at him with his eyes wide, almost as shocked as he is.

“I’m fine,” Satoru grits out.

“Oh.” Suguru brings his arm back to his side, sitting down awkwardly in his chair. Satoru slowly goes back to his former position as well, lips pursed. Suguru scents the air discreetly, but it smells almost suspiciously neutral. Despite their intimate conversation a few days ago, it feels as if an even bigger chasm has opened up between them and Suguru is desperately fishing for some way to cross it.

“I just realized,” he starts abruptly. “I’ve barely told you anything about myself yet.”

Satoru eyes him warily. Suguru notes the way the omega rubs at his eyes, Shoko had mentioned that the Six Eyes were still giving Satoru trouble. He tucks that information away for future reference.

“I never asked,” Satoru says mildly.

Suguru forces a smile, “Anything in particular you’d like to know?”

The other boy pretends to think for a moment, tapping a finger against his chin in an exaggerated fashion. “Nope.”

Suguru’s brows furrow, he can feel Satoru retreating within himself once again. They’d made so much progress the other day, Satoru had opened up his heart and become vulnerable in front of him by laying bare his twisted past. Suguru knew it must’ve taken a lot of courage on the omega’s part, but something he’d said had caused Satoru to immediately clam up again. He just didn’t know what. Suguru feels a headache coming on so he reaches up a hand to undo the bun he’d made earlier in an attempt to lessen the strain on his scalp. His hair comes down in waves, and Suguru runs a hand through it to straighten the wayward locks. He looks up just in time to catch Satoru staring at him, slightly slack jawed and hazy. As soon as the other boy notices his gaze though, he snaps his head away to look out the window, cheeks tinged again with a slight dusting of pink. There’s a scent drifting in the air, something sweet but with an undertone of sourness, almost embarrassed? But that doesn’t make sense, what could Satoru have to be embarrassed about? Suguru’s still trying to work out what it could mean.

“The first time I saw a curse,” he begins abruptly. “I was five.”

Satoru still doesn’t look at him, but Suguru notices how the omega tilts his head slightly in his direction.

“It was hiding in my closet,” he continues. “I cried and ran to my parents. They came to my room and looked it over but couldn’t find anything. So, they got mad at me for kicking up a fuss over something that wasn’t there.”

Suguru’s eyes glaze over as he recalls the memory. The terror he’d felt at finding the mishappen creature huddled within the closet, how he’d run as fast as he could to his parents, and how angry they’d been at having been woken in the dead of night. They’d left him in his room after that, with a stern warning not to call them again for something so minor. He couldn’t sleep the rest of the night, and stayed awake staring at his closet door while listening to the curse mutter nonsense throughout the night. It was a minor one, barely even able to keep its form so thankfully it was gone by the morning.

“I still check my closet twice before I go to sleep at night,” Suguru chuckles hollowly. It wasn’t a pleasant memory by any means, but Satoru is finally looking at him now so Suguru counts that as a win.

“I learned from an early age to ignore the curses because no one liked it when I pointed out things they couldn’t see, least of all my parents.”

“Are you close to your parents?” Satoru asks curiously, head tilted slightly.

Suguru considers the question, rolls the words over in his mind and thinks about the people who gave birth to him. “My parents are very traditional. They value appearances above anything else, even their children. So no, I wouldn’t say I was close to them.”

Satoru hums in response, probably very familiar with traditional families.

“They definitely can’t compare to yours in shittiness though,” Suguru adds, looking up at the omega from under his lashes.

Satoru cracks a smile at that, although it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah, it’s hard to compete with my scumbag of a sperm donor.”

There’s a small pause, before Suguru continues. “Since my parents value appearances I learned to act the part of the prodigal first son. I was polite, well-mannered, I got great grades, and I was class-president all throughout middle school. I never stepped a foot out of line, and if I did I was met with strict discipline.”

“I can’t imagine you putting up with that,” Satoru snickers, body fully turned in his direction now.

Suguru looks at him in amusement, he can feel his eyes soften at Satoru’s mirth. “You’d be surprised. My dad runs a dojo, which is why I’m so good at martial arts. But it also meant he had a pretty heavy hand, and he didn’t hesitate to use it.”

Suguru looks away then, clenching and unclenching his fists. “It felt so . . . suffocating having to wear a mask at all times. Acting the way other people wanted me to, pushing down my emotions and pretending I was someone I’m not. I felt like I was going to explode.”

“They probably didn’t take your gauges well, did they?” Satoru asks softly.

Suguru chuckles humorlessly, “I got them done at the end of middle school, when I felt like I had to do something to release the tension. It was either the gauges or throwing myself off a roof and you can see which one I chose. They were worth the beating I got after.”

Satoru reaches out a hand, touching his finger to one of Suguru’s earlobes. He feels his breath catch in his throat, Satoru had to lean forward to make contact, so Suguru gets a direct whiff of jasmine and he feels himself go slightly lightheaded as a result.

“They look like they hurt.”

“I barely felt them,” Suguru chokes out.

Satoru hums in response before leaning back to settle against his pillows. “What about your sisters?”

Suguru jolts out of his haze as he realizes he’s barely talked about his sisters since he got here. Instantly he’s overwhelmed by the huge feeling of guilt that he’d been holding back. He didn’t want to leave them behind, they were one of the only things that made his life bearable. But at the same time, he had to get out of that hellhole before he lost what remained of his sanity and sense of self.

“Mimiko and Nanako,” he says, voice choked with grief. “They’re twins, both ten years old. Mimiko has a creepy ass doll she carries everywhere by a rope tied around its neck while Nanako is obsessed with her toy phones. ”

Satoru studies his expression for a moment, “You really love them.”

“Yeah,” Suguru exhales. “My dad had a funny mantra, ‘the strong protect the weak.’ I never really believed in it, until my sisters were born. I was only eight, but the moment their fists latched onto my fingers I knew I’d kill to keep them safe.”

“But you left them,” Satoru notes.

Suguru flinches, “You really know how to hit where it hurts.” He takes in a deep breath, leaning back in his chair to stare down at his limp hands. “I’m not proud of it, but I felt like if I didn’t leave I was going to lose myself. And that they’d lose me too.”

“I don’t have any siblings,” Satoru says conversationally, pulling his knees up to wrap his arms around them. The omega leans his head forward to rest against them, and Suguru can’t help but think he’s cute. “But you seem like a pretty amazing big brother to me.”

Suguru’s breath catches in his throat, “Thanks.”

“And for what it’s worth,” Satoru says tentatively. “I like you better when you’re not holding back.”

Suguru bites his lip, swallowing back against a ball of emotion that wells up at the back of his throat. “It . . . it’s worth a lot.”

“But you know,” Satoru continues, brow raised. “For someone so well-mannered you were awfully ready to fight me the first day we met.”

Suguru studies the other boy’s expression, Satoru’s lips are pursed in petulant annoyance. With a start, Suguru realizes that the omega is pouting. Without meaning to, Suguru laughs deeply, eyes crinkled in mirth, doubled over with a hand pressed against his abdomen. He can’t remember the last time he felt this happy. It takes him a little bit to gather himself, but when he finally does and looks at Satoru, the omega has his brows furrowed indignantly, fists pressed against the bed in righteous fury at some perceived slight.

Suguru smiles, eyes softening unintentionally. “Because you’re strong. I don’t need to hold myself back when I’m with you.” And being around Satoru feels like finding himself again, but Suguru doesn’t say that part out loud.

“You’re damn right I am,” Satoru huffs, titling his chin up haughtily. The attempt at coming off calm and indifferent is somewhat ruined by the fact that he also flushes so red he almost looks like a tomato. Suguru half expects steam to come blowing out of his ears at any moment. At the same time, he finds himself strangely smitten with the realization that Gojo Satoru is weak to compliments. It’s almost refreshing and Suguru wants to see more of this embarrassed, bashful Satoru.

“You know I really admire you,” Suguru continues, not a single lie exiting his mouth. “Because life dealt you even shittier cards than mine, but instead of letting it overwhelm you, you rose up to meet it. I’m jealous of your courage, and wish I had the strength to be more like you.”

Satoru is beginning to look almost queasy now, not used to someone praising him so honestly. But Suguru doesn’t miss the way the omega’s body unconsciously turns toward him, eager to hear more. “Ok, that’s enough.”

Suguru grins, leaning forward and resting his arms on his thighs. He can smell the soft scent of Satoru’s pleasure drifting in the air. As much as he pretends not to, the omega is enjoying this and Suguru is enjoying the sugary sweet scent of Satoru’s happiness. “Being around you is frustrating as hell, and sometimes you’re childish enough to make me want to cry. But at the same time, you bring out the be–,”

“Suguru!” With a shout, Satoru lunges forward and smacks his palm over Suguru’s lips. He’s breathing hard, and Suguru has a front row seat to watch an endearing blush spread across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. Satoru’s mouth is set in a severe line, but the corners are slightly upturned. Each breath he takes brushes over Suguru’s face and at this distance he can smell the omega even more clearly, absolutely doused in the scent of Satoru’s reluctant delight. Unbidden, Suguru’s eyes dart down to glance at Satoru’s lips, soft, glossy and plump. He finds himself riveted by the sight, and when Satoru’s tongue flashes out to lick them in nervousness he feels a croon building up in his throat. In that moment, Suguru wants so badly to lean forward and kiss the gorgeous boy sitting in front of him. His gaze meanders back up to lock eyes with Satoru, and he notices a similar fire in the omegas eyes. There’s a tension building between them, thick enough to cut with a knife and Suguru can practically taste Satoru’s scent, absolutely saturating the air. He leans forward slowly, Satoru’s elbows bending easily as he allows Suguru to close the infinite distance between them. Suguru is so close now that he swears he can count each individual eyelash fluttering on Satoru’s pale cheeks, flushed rosy with want. He reaches up his hands to clasp Satoru’s arms, ready to pull the omegas hands away from his mouth and–

~TIGHT AS A VIRGIN BOY DON’T GET NERVOUS (TIGHT)~

~I’M HERE TO SERVE YOU CUSTOMER SERVICE (RIGHT)~

Suguru lunges back at the same time Satoru does, shocked by the explicit sound of rapping. He watches as Satoru scrambles frantically at the bedsheets, cursing under his breath as he hunts for his phone.

~I SAVE DICK BY GIVING IT CPR~

~(I save dick by giving it CPR, yes)~

~PUT MY MOUTH ON IT LIKE CPR~

~(Let's make porn and watch it on VCR)~

Suguru takes the moment to quickly right himself, brushing his hair back and pinching his thigh discreetly in an attempt to get rid of his rising hard-on. Satoru finally finds his phone and turns off the alarm, practically glaring at the screen.

“It was a viral tik tok sound,” Satoru rasps, defending his alarm choice. He looks appalled by the sound of his own voice, clearing his throat to get rid of the hoarse timbre.

“For your heat?” Suguru tentatively asks, trying to fill in the awkward silence that had descended.

“Yeah,” Satoru responds, once again fiddling with his bedsheets. They both avoid each other's gazes, simultaneously deciding to pretend nothing happened. Shoko’s disappointed face flashes across his mind, but Suguru can’t bring himself to care. She’ll probably lecture him after this, but that’s something for future him to worry about. Suguru brings a hand up scratch at his head, desperately trying to think of something to say.

“Speaking of–,”

“Well I sho–,”

Both of them halt,

“You go first,” Suguru smiles, and thankfully Satoru doesn’t call out the way the expression sits strangely on his face.

“Speaking of my heat,” Satoru says slowly, still not looking up from his hands. “I wanted to ask you for a favor.”

It’s an easy question to answer; Suguru can’t picture himself refusing Satoru much. “Yeah, of course. What do you need?”

Satoru hesitates before his face sets into something arrogant, chin tilting up so that he can look down at Suguru. “Give me some of your clothes.”

Suguru freezes, mind short-circuiting at the request. His immediate emotion is exhilarated pride and satisfaction bordering on conceit. Suguru’s instincts roar to the surface, extremely pleased with his omega’s continued acceptance of him. But he grapples with himself, trying to control his reaction and turn it into something more tame and less aggressive, face flitting over several expressions rapidly. The silence has gone on for too long however, because he sees Satoru’s previously haughty expression fall slightly, barely visible to someone who wasn’t paying attention as closely as he was.

Suguru jolts into action, throwing his hands out as if to physically stop Satoru’s racing thoughts. “Yeah, of course you can have them all if you want!”

Satoru eyes him warily. “It doesn’t mean anything,” he scowls, crossing his arms in front of himself as if warding away harm. “I asked Shoko and Yaga-sensei for something too. Shoko said it would help if I had the scents of people I feel . . . safe with around me.”

“Yeah,” Suguru rasps, mind practically feral at the thought of Satoru surrounding himself with his scent during the omega’s heat. “Like a, like a nest.”

Satoru grimaces at the word, “Yeah. A nest.”

Suguru clears his throat, once again pinching his thigh discreetly. “I’ll bring something over the next time I come to see you.”

“Don’t avoid me again,” Satoru warns with a pointed look. “I don’t know how much time I have left before my heat starts.”

“I’ll make sure to give it to you by the end of the day,” Suguru promises, tilting his head to meet the other boy’s eyes.

Satoru eyes him distrustfully, “Good. Now get out. I have to take my medicine.”

Suguru raises a brow and smirks, “What, are you a blushing maiden or something? Afraid I’ll steal your virtue?”

The other boy’s eyes narrow in annoyance, a tinge of red visible on his cheeks. “There’s a cream I have to apply to some private areas. So you need to leave because I know you can’t afford me.”

A flash of heat runs through Suguru’s body, he honestly wouldn’t mind a free show but of course he doesn’t say that. Instead, he splays his hands out in front of himself in a calming gesture and gets up from his seat. “Don’t worry Princess, you don’t have anything I haven’t seen before.”

He ducks through the exit before giving Satoru a chance to respond, but he can imagine the look of haughty indignation on his pretty face. Suguru lets the door click shut softly behind him and leans back against it with a long sigh. He can already imagine the pitying expression Shoko would level him with, but he had more pressing concerns. Suguru neatly compartmentalizes his thoughts, and shakes off the lingering urge to bury his face in Satoru’s stomach. Suguru has a call to make and little sisters to talk to.

* * * * *

When Suguru finally finds her later that day, Shoko is in the morgue busy dissecting some poor soul who was unfortunate enough to end up on her table. He doesn’t look too closely at the body, isn’t keen to find out whether it’s a human or a cursed spirit, but the sounds of her scalpel sliding through flesh and muscle is enough to make his stomach turn.

“Lemme guess, you ran away with your tail tucked between your legs?” Shoko asks without looking up from her work.

Suguru shuffles his feet, gaze straying anywhere but at her. “I wouldn’t quite sa-,”

Shoko interrupts before he finishes his sentence, “Did you, or did you not, confess?”

Suguru’s shoulders drop and he kicks at the floor, feeling like a scolded child. “No.”

“Pity,” Shoko grunts, finally turning her gaze up towards him. There are flecks of blood clinging to her goggles, and she’s still elbow deep in the body before her. “I had high hopes. What do you want?”

Suguru brings forward the soft, well-worn hoodie he’d been hiding behind his back. It’s one of his favorites, and has been through the wash enough times that the cuffs are fraying. But it’s also the one most saturated with his scent, he’s had it long enough that his pheromones have sunk into the very fibers of the fabric. When he’d been hunting through clothes to give to Satoru, Suguru had found himself turning towards it despite the hoodies' less than pristine appearance. And when he’d imagined Satoru wearing it? Suguru had almost been bowled over by a primal sense of pleasure.

Shoko wrinkles her nose, “It reeks.”

“It’s washed,” Suguru says defensively, pulling the hoodie closer to himself as if to protect it from Shoko’s displeasure.

“It doesn’t really matter when you’ve had something long enough,” Shoko scowls, motioning her head towards a table beside her. “Just throw it there. I’ll give it to him when I see him.”

Suguru immediately begins to move, relief coursing through him at Shoko’s quick acceptance. He throws the hoodie onto the table, feeling a twinge of guilt at the thought of Satoru’s disappointed face. It’s far outweighed by fear of losing the other boy and what they’ve already built between them. Just as he’s turning to leave though, Shoko speaks.

“He won’t be happy to see me.”

Suguru’s fists clench at his sides, “I know.”

“I’m assuming you’ve already come up with some excuse?” She continues conversationally, as if Suguru’s heart isn’t breaking in front of her.

Suguru falters, unable to think of something adequate. “Tell him . . . tell him I’m not enough.” And that’s the truth isn’t it? Satoru burns so brightly, practically blinding in his intensity, soaring through the heavens like the god he is and Suguru is just . . . Suguru. Boring, dull, dutiful, selfish Suguru Geto from the country-side, who can barely keep his own mind together.

Behind himself, he hears Shoko speak, “I don’t think that’s something you get to decide for him. But ok.”

* * * * *

Shoko walks in just as Satoru is arranging spare bed sheets and clothes into something that he vehemently refuses to call a nest. He doesn’t turn to look at her, instincts forcing him to become deeply focused on the task at hand. There’s a burning sensation just under his skin letting him know that his heat is just around the corner; time is something he doesn’t have a lot of at the moment. Satoru picks up one of the stuffed animals Yaga-sensei gave him to place towards the head of the bed. He casts a critical eye towards his set up; it’s a bit sparse but for his first time it doesn’t look bad. The bed certainly looks inviting enough, with plenty of blankets arranged into something big enough to firmly hold his body (and maybe even another) in place and ensure he feels secure. But Satoru’s instincts are refusing to abate, insisting that something is missing.

“I’ve got a delivery for you,” Shoko calls out, observing his actions. “Expedited shipping.”

Satoru grunts in response, tilting his head to look more closely at the nest. He takes in a deep breath through his nose, hit by the mixed scents of Yaga-sensei, Shoko and himself. Suguru’s scent is also there, but to a lesser degree. He huffs in dissatisfaction; there’s something off.

“It’s probably what you’re looking for.”

Satoru turns to face Shoko, brows furrowed in annoyance. Shoko pulls out a large zip lock bag, containing a mass of red fabric. Satoru cautiously extends a hand to take it from her, flipping the bag over to look at the item. He can’t make out what it is, so he opens the seal to get a closer look. Instantly he’s hit with the overwhelming scent of musk and a forest after rain. Almost frantically, he snatches the cloth out, throwing the bag somewhere to the side. Satoru brings what he now sees is a hoodie up to his face, greedily taking in a huge breath. His eyes drift shut of their own accord as he gently rubs the soft, well-worn cloth to his face. Satoru is suddenly hit with a sense of longing so sharp that he feels tears welling up in his eyes.

“Fuck,” he grits out, hiding the tears in the hoodie. His emotions are all over the place thanks to his heat messing with his hormone balance.

“Suguru sends his regards,” Shoko says.

“He didn’t come himself?” he asks, voice muffled by the cloth still held to his face.

“Nah, he was being a little bitch,” she responds indifferently. “Said something along the lines of ‘not being enough for you.’”

Satoru’s head snaps up as he looks at Shoko, hands clenching the hoodie tight. “He doesn’t get to decide that for me,” he says, almost viciously. Suguru is a coward who kisses people, throws their emotions into disorder, and runs. Satoru doesn’t need someone like that, no matter how kind they are or how much they feel like home.

Shoko shrugs, “That’s what I told him. But he was too caught up in his teenage angst and didn’t believe me when I told him you were hopelessly in love with him.”

Satoru blushes, “That’s not true.” The words are automatic and unthinking though, and he knows Shoko doesn’t believe them from the dubious look she sends him. Satoru doesn’t even believe them if he’s being honest.

“Everything is ready for your heat. The higher ups are unaware, we never told them about it from the beginning.” Shoko says, deciding not to press the issue. “Yaga-sensei called in some favors from friends and has them guarding the school. I’ll also be outside the door if you need anything.”

Satoru nods listlessly in response, turning around on auto-pilot to place the hoodie into his nest. He sets it down near his pillow, so that he can easily scent it but it doesn’t feel right. Satoru picks it up again, shifts the blankets out of the way and places it to the side. But that also doesn’t feel right.

“It should only last a day at most but it’s gonna be intense,” Shoko warns from behind him. He grunts an affirmative, all of his attention focused on trying to figure out the perfect place for Suguru’s hoodie.

“I’m going to leave now, but let me know if you need anything.”

Satoru once again nods, not turning to watch as Shoko leaves. He instead glares down at the hoodie, frustrated at its fussiness. A thought runs through his mind then, and Satoru reaches out a hand for the hoodie before snatching it back. He turns away from the bed, pacing across the room before he finds himself back in front of it. Satoru bites his lip, slowly reaching out to grab the hoodie. Before he can think too deeply, he quickly tugs his shirt off before pulling the hoodie down. Instantly, a feeling of relief and comfort washes over him as he’s surrounded by Suguru’s scent. The hoodie is wide at the shoulder and chest, but is slightly short lengthwise. Satoru snuggles his chin into the collar, taking in a deep breath. This is what was missing, he can already feel his instincts calming from their former frazzled state. There’s a purr building up in his throat, and he lets it out, too comfortable to police his instincts.

Satoru is ready just in time, the warmth under his skin begins to burn hotter, signaling the start of his heat. He makes his way over to his bed, flopping down onto the blankets and clothes with a groan. Curling up in the middle, Satoru pulls a blanket that smells of Shoko over his head, craving an enclosed space. Almost instantly, he throws it back off again, unable to bear the added warmth. Satoru stares up at the roof, allowing the seconds to tick by.

“I don’t miss him,” he stubbornly says, as he brings the cuff of his hoodie closer to his nose. Satoru shifts restlessly in bed, trying to find a comfortable position and trying not to think about the moment when Suguru opened his hair and let it fall in gentle waves down his back. It’s too late though, and the moment pops into his mind unbidden. He pinches his thigh hard, annoyed at his mind's betrayal. But Satoru’s instincts are antsy, anxious over the absence of a specific alpha, and are dreaming up any and all scenarios to relax themselves.

The warmth is beginning to feel stifling now, and his clothes feel practically abrasive on his body. His skin is incredibly sensitive thanks to his heat, and Satoru kicks off the sweatpants he’d been wearing. But he can’t bear to part with the hoodie, his instincts revolt at the very thought. Satoru groans as he wraps his arms around his stomach, he bites his lips in a desperate attempt to alleviate the pain resonating throughout his body but it’s to no avail.

He feels like he’s burning up from the inside, there’s a furnace in the pit of his stomach and his whole body is hurting. His emotions are going absolutely haywire, one moment he’s furious and the next he feels ready to sob at the touch of a feather. Satoru desperately wants his suppressants, he wants chocolate croissants with caramel drizzled over them, he wants Hanako-san, he wants . . . he wants Suguru. And that’s what brings tears to his eyes, the acknowledgement that his mind and body both ache for Suguru. He desperately misses the sensation of being held in the alpha’s arms, the scent of his body, the breath of his chest, those ridiculous bontan pants of his and Suguru’s gentle and indulgent smile, the one specially reserved for Satoru. He turns his head into the pillows and whimpers, covering his eyes with an arm.

In front of others he puts up a strong front, but Satoru is undeniably aware of the fact that despite his title as the strongest, he’d been jerked around by Jujutsu Society from his childhood. His strength, the very thing that made him extraordinary, was at the same time a curse. It caused him to be isolated from his childhood, revered and shunned by all around him. They put him on a pedestal, pointed fingers, placed their oppressive expectations on his shoulders and expected him to carry their burdens for them, because he was the strongest after all. And, although he never let it show, it was lonely up there at the top. Agonizingly lonely. So when he woke up one day and looked beside him to see Suguru there, he’d been furious and confused. But a small part of him had been relieved, because Satoru realized that he wasn’t alone.

He’d done his best to push the other boy away, but despite the short time they knew each other, Suguru had a way of squirming through the cracks in the walls he built, and Satoru was afraid to admit that he actually enjoyed the other boy’s presence. Suguru evoked feelings in him, feelings that he’d never experienced before. To someone like him, cursed with all the power in the world yet at the same time none, Suguru’s very existence was a blessing. And for the first time in his life, Satoru wanted to be selfish and welcome that blessing.

“Shoko?” he rasps out.

“Yeah?”

Satoru pauses, “Can you . . . call Suguru for me?”

There’s a pause, and he hears rustling from the other side of the door as Shoko comes closer. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

And there’s a lot of things Satoru could say in response to her question. That yes, it is a good idea. That he’s never been more sure of anything in his life. That there’s an ache in his chest that only Suguru can fill. That if he doesn’t feel the alpha’s arms around him within the next few seconds he will do something insane. But Satoru’s mind is too strung out to form proper words, the only thing he can focus on is the thought that Suguru can fix this. That his presence will make it better somehow.

“Please,” he finally manages, voice cracking. Shoko must hear the desperation in his voice, because she doesn’t ask anymore questions after that.

* * * * *

For the rest of the day after he left Shoko, Suguru finds himself suspended between guilt and longing. There’s nothing he’d like more than to run to Satoru’s side, soothe him through his heat, cradle the omega close and murmur sweet nothings into his ears. But that’s not something he deserves, and Satoru also deserves so much better. He tries to distract himself, but each time he finds his mind drifting to Satoru. Is he eating properly? Is he keeping himself hydrated? Does he need more clothes for his nest? Does he . . . miss Suguru? Because Suguru misses him; there’s a Satoru sized hole in his chest that aches whenever he thinks about the other boy. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, and Suguru is finding that to be painfully true. He even finds himself missing the things he’d once hated about Satoru, like his infuriating smirks, haughty demeanor and petulant attitude. Maybe he should have given the hoodie to him by hand. Just thinking of Satoru’s grateful smile is making something warm bloom in his chest.

If you weren’t such a coward, a small voice whispered. You’d be able to see it.

Suguru shakes his head, trying to rattle the voice out but it persists in its rebellious thoughts.

Did you ever ask him what he wanted before you made the decision for him? Maybe he wants you too.

“He doesn’t,” Suguru says stubbornly. Entertaining these hopes would only hurt him in the end, he knows this. But they still manage to weasel their way into his mind. What if Satoru does want him too? What if Satoru likes him as well? It’s not a completely baseless thought, with the way Satoru acts around him. But on the off chance that he’s wrong, if Satoru doesn’t like him, then Suguru would lose whatever it was that they’d managed to build between them. It’s such a delicate thing too, painstakingly cultivated and infinitely more precious because of that. Suguru thinks he’d shatter if he lost it. After all, he’d only recently begun gathering the scattered pieces of himself, a painstaking task.

Suguru leans back in his seat, closing his eyes and picturing Satoru’s face. He thinks of the boy’s presence; so vivid, so expressive, so larger than life. Gojo Satoru is in a league of his own, so far above Suguru’s that he’s practically in space.

A star, he reminds himself. Gojo Satoru is a star. Beautiful, strong, brilliant, and an absolute force of nature.

He thinks of the curve of Satoru’s cheek, how he knows it would fit perfectly against the palm of his hand like the two were made for each other. He thinks of Satoru’s pale skin, surprisingly soft for someone in their line of work. No doubt thanks to infinity, he chuckles to himself. But Suguru wouldn’t put it past Satoru to not have a whole skincare regime, with how vain the omega is.

Suguru thinks of the stubborn jut of Satoru’s lips, the furrow in his brow whenever he’s frustrated, the way he fidgets with his hands when he’s nervous. Suguru thinks of his eyes, a shade of crystalline blue he’d only seen before in his dreams, flecked with silver throughout. So deep and bottomless that Suguru thinks he could drown in them. And he would, if Satoru asked him to. That’s the part that scares him the most. The startling realization that despite the fact that he’s only known the other boy for a couple weeks, Suguru would burn down the world for him if asked. Which is exactly why he decides to stay silent, and bury these feelings deep inside. Because what they have between them is too precious to lose.

It’s late by the time he’s brought out of his thoughts by a gentle ping. Suguru listlessly pulls out his phone to check the home screen, noticing a couple recent messages from Shoko. He opens them up.

heat started

its bad

hes asking 4 u

Before he’s even thought about it, Suguru is on his feet and out the door. It’s instinct, his own thoughts put on the backseat as his base desires take over. All the teenage angst in the world couldn’t stop him at that moment, adrenaline rushing through his body as he makes his way single-mindedly over to where Satoru is. As soon as he steps into the hallway leading to the infirmary, he’s bombarded by heat scent, practically bowled over by its intensity. He staggers into the wall, desperately cupping a hand over his nose to prevent his thoughts from becoming muddled. The scent itself is amazing, it smells like Satoru’s natural scent mixture of cashmere musk and jasmine except intensified by a hundred fold. He reaches into his pocket and shakily brings out a packet of rut suppressants, popping three quickly into his mouth. Suguru also pinches his nose shut and breathes through his mouth, he can’t afford to get distracted. Satoru needs him.

Suguru makes his way over to the infirmary door haltingly, the scent growing thicker and thicker as he gets closer to the source. By the time he reaches the door, he can practically taste it. Suguru leans against the wall beside the infirmary entrance, sliding down until he falls to the floor. The door is locked and reinforced with cursed energy; there’s no way Shoko would’ve let him through without those precautions in place. Suguru raises his hand and hesitantly knocks on the door. “Satoru?”

He’s answered by silence, long enough that he begins to worry that something may have gone wrong before hearing rustling behind the door.

“Suguru?”

Relief courses through him when he hears Satoru’s hoarse voice. He leans forward, resting his forehead against the door. Suguru feels tears welling up, and he’s ridiculously glad that Satoru can’t see him.

“Yeah,” Suguru chokes out. “It’s me. How are you doing?”

“Suguru,” Satoru breathes out. Suguru hears some more rustling behind the doorway before there’s a thud against the heavy wood as Satoru too falls against the door. “It hurts.”

Suguru’s fists clench beside him as his instincts roar in frustration. His omega is in pain and he can’t do anything about it.

“Is there anything I can do?” he asks desperately. Being helpless is so frustrating.

“This is something I’ve gotta push through on my own,” Satoru responds grimly.

So Suguru sits helplessly and listens to the sound of Satoru’s labored breathing. It’s a humbling experience, grappling with his own insignificance. Satoru groans on the other side of the doorway, and Suguru’s on his knees before remembering that he has no way of helping.

You could be in there with him if you weren’t such a coward, a voice whispers. And Suguru has no reply, because it's right. If he wasn’t so caught up in his own self doubt he could be in there with Satoru, actively helping the omega through his heat. He has no one to blame but himself.

“Relax will you,” Satoru rasps, startling Suguru out of his thoughts. “You smell so in distress that I almost think you’re the one in heat.”

Guilt rushes through Suguru’s body, “I’m sorry.” He desperately tries to dampen his scent, pinching his thigh to distract himself with pain.

Satoru chuckles, but it sounds painful. There’s some rustling behind the doorway as he tries to get into a more comfortable position.

“You know it wasn’t all bad,” Satoru says abruptly.

Suguru is startled by the sudden change in topic, “What?”

“My childhood,” the omega clarifies. “It wasn’t all bad.”

“Satoru this isn’t the ti-,”

A groan from behind the door stops Suguru in his tracks, “Just shut up will you. And listen to me.”

Sugurus swallows his words, and waits for Satoru to speak. There’s a long silence, during which the sound of Satoru’s heavy breathing sounds deafening.

“When I first presented,” Satoru starts. “My father assigned someone to teach me how to be a proper omega. Her name was Hanako-san and she was an alpha.” There’s the sound of strained coughing from behind the door, and Suguru is halfway standing before it abates.

“Hanako-san was kind,” Satoru continued, voice strained. “Unlike what my father probably expected, she taught me everything I needed to know about being an omega and tried to get me to embrace that side of myself. It didn’t work but she never stopped trying. My old man didn’t like her thought, and kicked her out when he found out.”

There’s another pause, during which Suguru assumes that Satoru attempts to gather his thoughts. There’s a rustling sound as Satoru once again shifts his position.

“She loved me like a son,” Satoru reminisces. “And was probably the best thing that ever happened to me back then.”

“What happened to her?” Suguru tentatively asked, afraid for the woman. From what he’d heard about Satoru’s father, he wasn’t the forgiving sort.

Satoru snorts, “You don’t have to worry, she died peacefully in her sleep surrounded by her children and grandchildren. They buried her on top of a hill under a sakura tree.”

“Oh,” Suguru said, not quite understanding the point of the story. Satoru sighs, as if annoyed by his obliviousness.

“She was the first alpha I ever felt safe around,” Satoru clarifies, voice hoarse. “And you’re the second.”

Suguru furrows his brows, and then his mouth falls open as the omega’s words and their significance finally dawn on him. “Satoru . . .” his voice trails off, unable to think of the right words to say. Satoru liked him. Satoru liked him and Suguru was an idiot. Satoru laughs from the other side of the door, more of a croaking than anything, but it’s practically music to his ears.

“Talk to me Suguru,” Satoru rasps. “I wanna hear your voice. It makes the heat and emptiness more bearable.”

So Suguru talks. He talks about his childhood, about growing up in a small town where everyone knew everyone and you could never get any peace. He talks about the first curse he ever saw, and all the ones he saw after that. He talks about his father and mother, their list of unending expectations for him and how he felt so insignificant in front of their eyes. He talks about the first time he ever ate a curse, the disgusting taste, like a rag used to wipe up vomit and how they slid down your throat like rocks.

Suguru talks about piercing his own ears at the end of middle school, when he felt so small and overwhelmed he was almost consumed by it. He talks about his sisters, Mimiko and Nanako and how much of a nightmare they were to look after. Nanako was the one you had to worry about, Suguru hears himself say. Mimiko was simply a follower, Nanako was the one who got them both in trouble.

Suguru talks until his voice is hoarse, until his throat is parched and his tongue feels like sandpaper in his mouth. Even after he hears soft and steady breathing indicating that Satoru is asleep, he continues to talk. Even after his voice is nothing more than a whisper, he continues to talk. Suguru’s words don’t stop until he falls into a restless sleep against the door.

* * * * *

Suguru is rudely jerked out of sleep when his bed gets pulled out from under him and he falls against the floor, disoriented. He slowly pushes himself up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and trying to figure out what exactly had just happened. Suguru looks forward groggily, noticing the door he had been leaning against while asleep is now open, which explains the rude awakening.

Suguru blinks slowly, noticing a rapidly tapping foot in front of him. He follows the foot and its twin to a set of pale, shapely legs that lead to the bottom of a frayed, well-worn red hoodie.

Suguru squints, there’s something he’s missing. He tries to put his finger on it, but the lack of sleep ensures it keeps eluding his grasp. Suguru continues to turn his gaze upwards, finally settling on the face of the individual in front of him. It’s Satoru, wearing a familiar red hoodie and nothing else. He looks like shit, hair damp with sweat, eyes red with black circles underneath and exhaustion dripping from every limb. He’s also never looked more beautiful.

“Hi,” Suguru breathes out, slightly dazed.

Satoru snarls, teeth bared and Suguru quickly rifles through his memories trying to think of anything he might have done wrong. Before he can figure it out, Satoru quickly leans forward and shoves him. Suguru is caught unaware, so he falls onto his back easily with Satoru following him down, gripping the front of his shirt in both hands and landing on Suguru’s stomach.

“You’re going to shut up,” Satoru hisses, brows furrowed in anger. “And listen to me. Do you understand?”

Suguru eyes his bare legs nervously, “Sato-,”

“Yes or no?” Satoru interrupts, shaking him roughly.

“Yes, yes!” Suguru answers, eyes wide.

Satoru glares down at him, looking for all intents and purposes as if he is about to beat Suguru senseless. Which is why what he says next leaves Suguru baffled. “Suguru Geto you insufferably handsome idiot. I like you.”

Suguru’s eyes go wider than before if possible, jaw slack with shock. And once again, Satoru roughly shakes Suguru by the grip he has on his shirt, “Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Suguru answers, voice breathy and soft.

Satoru nods in satisfaction, “Good. I’m going to kiss you now. Punch me if you don’t want it.”

“Yes,” Suguru manages after a slight pause, nodding his head in a daze. Satoru smiles, robbing Suguru of what little brain cells he has left, before leaning forward and connecting their lips.

It’s not the best kiss, neither of them have any experience after all. Satoru’s angling is off, causing him to land too high and to the side, not quite meeting Suguru’s lips directly. Their teeth clash against each other and there’s more saliva than there needs to be, both of them trying to introduce tongue too quickly. But that’s okay, they have plenty of time to practice after all.

* * * * *

“What the hell are you two doing?”

Satoru blinks, turning his head to face Shoko as she enters the classroom. Beside him, he feels Suguru do the same. Shoko stands frozen in the doorframe, mouth open in shock. Sure it’s rare for him to be early or even on time to class, but Satoru doesn’t think it requires the theatrics she’s putting on.

“Waiting for class to start?” Satoru responds, confused at her tone. He turns his head to look at Suguru and finds the alpha nodding in agreement.

“You’re almost late Shoko,” Suguru cautions, looking just as confused as he does.

“I’m not talking about that, I’m talking about this,” she says, motioning aggressively at the two of them.

Satoru tilts his chin curiously, "Shoko, what exactly are you talking about?"

“Fine,” Shoko grits out. “I’ll bite. Why the fuck are you sitting in Suguru’s lap?”

Satoru blinks, he’d been so comfortable he’d almost forgotten. “Oh, that’s what you were talking about.”

Shoko’s glare sharpens, “What the fuck do you mean ‘oh’? You’re not gonna explain yourself?”

Satoru shrugs, “I’m just more comfortable here.” He shifts a little, as if to demonstrate his point, and lets himself sink more fully into the warmth of Suguru’s chest. Satoru tilts his head so that he can lean onto the alpha’s shoulder and tuck his nose into the crook of his neck. Suguru's scent is so much more potent near his gland, Satoru thinks he could get high on it. From his vantage point, he can see first hand the way Suguru’s ears turned red at his words, and Satoru presses his lips against the alpha’s neck just to feel him shudder.

“This is the thanks I get for giving you advice?” Shoko accuses, turning her ire onto Suguru. “Giving you both advice?”

Suguru squirms underneath him, “And I’m really grateful for that, it’s jus-”

“He can’t keep his hands off me,” Satoru finishes, sending her a smirk.

Shoko wrinkles her nose, “You’re both disgusting.”

“Disgustingly in love,” Satoru shoots back, sticking his tongue out at her.

“Satoru,” Suguru chides, attempting to deescalate the situation. But there isn't any real steel to his words, Satoru notes with satisfaction.

He turns his gaze to the alpha, tilting his head slightly so that he can meet the other boy's eyes. Satoru furrows his brows, widens his eyes and purses his lips in a pout. Instantly he sees Suguru’s expression soften, and mentally pats himself on the back. Satoru leans down and presses a soft kiss to Suguru’s lips. When he pulls back, Suguru follows him and molds their lips together more fully. Suguru’s tongue swipes across Satoru’s lips and he opens his mouth to the alpha with a soft purr. Their tongues meet and move against each other gently, still new to this whole thing. Suguru's hands wander down to his waist, pulling him more securely against the alpha.

“I’m done,” Shoko calls out behind herself as she turns to leave. “Tell Yaga-sensei I’m sick.”

Satoru doesn’t respond, pulling back from their kiss to look down at Suguru adoringly, an emotion he's tentatively begun to call love, overflowing from inside his chest. He brings a hand up to cradle the alpha’s cheek, and Suguru leans into it, nuzzling into the palm of his hand. Satoru feels so much more stable, so much happier, and so much more comfortable in his own skin than he's ever been. A part of himself that he didn’t even know was missing has finally slotted into place.

“That wasn’t very nice of you,” Suguru murmurs, lips still pressed against Satoru’s palm.

“Don’t care,” he grunts, leaning down for another kiss. Satoru thinks he’s addicted to Suguru’s lips now, and can't imagine going a day without them.

But Suguru pulls back and Satoru can’t help the whine that leaves his mouth. Suguru’s eyebrow twitches, clearly not unaffected by Satoru’s discontent, but he holds strong.

"She helped me a lot, you know," Suguru chides. "If it wasn't for her I probably never would've figured out my feelings."

"Yeah, yeah," Satoru responds impatiently, staring at the cupids bow of Suguru's lips as they flex to form words. "I'll PayPal her enough for that bone saw she's been wanting. Happy now?"

Suguru's perfect lips turn down in a frown, and Satoru can practically see the gears turn in his head as he tries to calculate whether a three hundred thousand yen power tool is enough to pay back Shoko for her service. So Satoru decides to sweeten the deal, leaning down to trail his lips against Suguru's neck.

"The bone saw and I'll throw in one of the grade one cursed daggers we have sitting in the clan vault," he murmurs against the warm skin, resting them against the jut of the alpha's collarbones.

Suguru tilts his head, bewildered at the way Satoru is so freely offering up clan treasures. He shouldn't be, Suguru should know already that he doesn’t do anything by halves. When Satoru loves, he puts his whole heart and soul into it.

"And the elders would just let you do that? Without any pushback?"

Satoru grins, pulling back and baring his teeth in what's practically a snarl. "They will if they know what's good for them."

He turns his gaze back down to Suguru, roping his arms around the alpha's neck and leaning forward to rest his forehead softly against Suguru’s. "Besides, if things go south I've got you for back-up. We're the strongest, aren't we?"

“Yeah,” the alpha breaths out, voice achingly soft. “We are.” Suguru leans up to close the remaining distance between them, and giddily Satoru complies, meeting the alpha’s lips with his own. For the first time in what feels like forever, Satoru finds himself looking forward to, and even welcoming the future. Because he’s no longer alone, and that makes a world of difference.