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    Summary


    He’d once asked Geto what the curses tasted like. He’d watched him swallow dozens by then, but he had never figured to ask.
    “Worse than shit, if you can imagine that,” Geto had replied at the time, wiping his mouth as if he could erase the taste, transfer it off of his tongue and onto the back of his sleeve.

    Gojo figured kissing Geto was a little like swallowing curses. Not the tasting bad part. But the act of taking something so foreign and complex into yourself. Each kiss felt like it changed him inside, in some way. Maybe even that was an oversimplification for how he felt about Geto, but Gojo hadn’t set aside much time to ponder over it all.

    Shoko, Gojo, and Geto are as close as friends can be. But a night of drinking and truth or dare escalates from kissing into something much more. And Geto and Gojo find themselves once again crossing that line that separates friendship and romance.

    Language:
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