Archive of Our Own ^beta

You never explained your breakdown to any of your students. 

Satoru knew. He’d been there with you, weeping on his knees while he held you against his chest as if not looking was somehow going to save you the pain. 

It didn’t. The pain still chokes you to this day when things go silent for too long, but thankfully, tonight shouldn’t be one of those nights. 

You lift the drink in your hands to your lips and take a long sip. The liquor burns just a bit, but the warmth it gives you only makes your skin feel more alight with the vibe of the evening. There’s joy and chaos all around you. Former students laugh and drink, coworkers reunite after returning from missions. It isn’t often that you get to gather with everyone you love. Your jobs in the Jujutsu world don’t exactly allow for time with family and friends, but since Gojo took over Jujutsu High School, he insists on having this little reunion every year. It’s honestly just become a get-together for the survivors of the Shibuya Incident, and you’re sure that something about it is helping Gojo to cope, but you never question him on it. You’re always just happy to see him smiling again.

“Hey teach, you want another drink?”

You swivel on your barstool, finding a messy head of pink hair approaching you through the dense crowd. Itadori Yuuji waves money up in the air as he closes in.

The responsible part of you, the part of you that was Yuuji’s teacher when he was sweet and young, wants to say no. Seeing him as a man is something that, even though you’ve seen him a lot lately, is still foreign. All of your students still seem so young to you. Maybe it’s just from being their teacher.

Maybe it’s because you know it’s partially your fault they all had to grow up too fast. 

“Eh” you muse, setting your now empty cup down on the bar. “Why not? What are you drinking, Itadori?” 

Yuuji smiles and wraps his arm around Nobara who lingers with a half-cocked smile beside him. “Alcohol!” 

Typical. Your former students are all of legal drinking age now. This is the first of Gojo’s parties where Yuuji, Megumi, and Nobara have been able to indulge to the fullest. Last year, the second years of the Shibuya incident didn’t let you down with the entertainment on their first year drinking. Panda and Maki had been able to get everyone in the bar as drunk as could be. Inumaki somehow, someway managed to get everyone singing karaoke. You had drank so much and laughed so hard that the ache in your sides the next day was worse than the hangover. 

It appears that Yuuji might already be on the verge of topping them in the hilarity department. You’d seen him dancing and buying people drinks at the start of the night. He’d swept Gojo up into a tango at one point. The entire room had roared with laughter at his antics, and you feel a bit honored that he’s choosing to head your way. 

He saunters over to you, leaning on the bar and smiling that million dollar grin. 

“Shots?” 

“No, Yuuji.” 

He turns to the bartender. “Two shots.”

“Yuuji-” 

“Of sake.” 

“Of Tequila if you have any, please.” 

Yuuji throws his arms up in the air in triumph, his grin turning into a wide, toothy smile. “Yes! Shots with the teach!” 

You roll your eyes at the boy, but you can’t help but smile. If anyone in your life has been through a lot, it’s Yuuji Itadori. He dealt with having a curse living under his skin like a champ for years. He’s seen it all, and yet he still somehow manages to smile and laugh with his friends like life is everything he’d dreamed it would be. 

You don’t envy him of course, but you do wish to know his secret.

The bartender slides two very full shots across the bar. Yuuji’s grin somehow manages to grow even more as his lanky fingers pick up the glass. 

He lifts his shot your way. “To…” -he lingers, looking off to the side while he thinks- “You were my teacher, so…to Nanamin.” 

You clutch the shot tightly in your hand, the smile on your face weak. “To Nanamin. May he rest in peace.” 

Yuuji clinks his glass with yours, and together you throw the shots down your throats and slam the glasses down on the counter. He grimaces a bit when the shot is gone, but you pretend not to notice. At just twenty years old, you’re quietly glad that he’s not used to the burn of alcohol going down his throat already. 

He flags the bartender down again and orders you two mixed drinks before looking back your way. His familiar smile shoots warmth through your heart.

“How have you been?” he wonders, leaning on his hand. “What’s work like for a Special Grade Sorcerer?” 

You shrug. “The usual. All I do is kill curses and deal with Gojo.” 

The boy tilts his head back and gives you a hearty, drunken laugh. “Sounds like my day. All I do is teach and deal with Gojo.” 

You peak beyond Yuuji to find the man in question. Gojo stands in the middle of a group of his former students, drink raised a bit above his head as he drunkenly slurs out some story you can’t quite hear. The students around him laugh at his words, completely enraptured with the man. He’s clearly eating up the attention judging by the smile on his face and the slight sway in his hips.

It takes you a good long while to look back at Yuuji. Something about laying eyes on the smile of Satoru Gojo makes you forget, even if just for a second.

“I feel like every sorcerer in Tokyo has to deal with Gojo at some point” you assure Yuuji halfheartedly as you place your focus back on him. “We can’t say it isn’t enjoyable, though.” 

Yuuji smiles. “Never a dull moment.” 

“Never a dull moment with who?” 

Nobara has returned her attention to Yuuji and yourself, wrapping her arm around his neck and leaning over the bar, drink in hand. The bartender returns, sliding two new drinks across the bar toward Yuuji and yourself. 

“Gojo” you tell Nobara, lifting your newest drink to your tingling lips.

The girl snorts, rolling her eye. “He’s over there telling a story about how he killed two special grade curses at once to impress some girl in Kyoto.” 

It’s your turn to roll your eyes. “I don’t remember it happening like that.” 

Nobara takes the final sip of her drink and slides the cup across the bar. The tender doesn’t even need to ask what she’s having before he begins to refill the glass.

“How do you remember it happening?” she prods. “I know you’ve known Gojo for a long time.” 

Your nose crinkles at the way she emphasizes long. “Don’t put it like that. Seeing you kids drinking is making me feel old enough.” 

Yuuji lets out another boisterous laugh. “You’re not old, teach. I do wanna hear some good Gojo stories from the Stone Age, though, so feel free to tell some of those.” 

You lean over to give him a gentle punch on the shoulder. “Haha, very funny Itadori.” 

He gives you a sly smile before leaning back in his chair. Nobara has taken up a seat beside him with her new drink in hand, both of their eyes focused on you. 

“What?” you wonder. “You actually want me to tell you Gojo stories from when I was in high school with the idiot?” They both nod ferociously. 

You place your glass to your lips as the unsettling feeling shoots through your stomach. It’s not that your time in youth with Gojo wasn’t good, but it feels so painfully far away now. You used to be able to reach for those memories and pull them to the forefront of your mind with picture-perfect accuracy. Now they feel as though someone’s flooded the boxes and soaked the photos through.

You can’t blame yourself for pushing them away, but you do miss them in moments of quiet. 

“Eh” you hesitate. “We weren’t that exciting in high school. We did pretty basic Jujutsu High School things.”

Maki approaches from the side so quickly that you barely notice her. You jump a bit when she places a hand on your shoulder, leaning into you as she sips from a beer in her hand. 

“You and Gojo?” she scoffs. “Basic? Tell us what you guys were really up to when you were in high school.” 

“Like I said” you mumble back. “We did what you’re supposed to do at school. Learn.” 

A chorus of boos sounds from your former students, Yuuji even going so far as to shout a booming ‘boring’ out into the room.

You swat him away. “Hush. Fine. I guess we did some things that were kind of exciting, but it’s nothing like what you guys went through.”

“Jeez” Maki begins after a long sip of her beer. “We want fun stories, not your trauma glossary.” 

You nudge the girl with your hip. Though she tries to remain stoic, her tipsy lips betray her as she cracks a smile. 

You turn back to Nobara and Yuuji. Before you speak, you take an extra long sip. 

You’re going to need all the liquor you can get to talk about high school. 

“What do you wanna know, my nosy students?” you wonder. “Hit me.” 

All three of them immediately seem to go deep into thought, the gears in their drunk little heads trying to conjure up the best of the infinite curiosities they must have. 

“I’ve got one” Nobara chirps after a minute. “Did Gojo have a lot of girlfriends in high school? We all used to bet money that he was a player, but we never actually got around to finding out. It felt kinda creepy to ask when we were seventeen.” 

You’re definitely going to need another drink for this. 

“Well” you begin, leaning back into your chair and crossing your hands in your lap. “Not…not exactly.” 

It was typical of Gojo to sneak a peak at your behind when you walked past him in the hall. He wasn’t subtle about it, and part of you knew that he wanted you to catch him doing it. 

“Satoru” you asked him one day when you could feel his eyes burning into your behind. “Are you waiting for my ass to detach from my body and walk away?” 

He walked up behind you, wrapping his lanky arms around you body and placing his head on your shoulder. “If an ass like that walked away, I would start an international hunt to bring it back.” 

You shoved your elbow hard into his side, making him double over you and tickle your face with his hair. 

“You” you began, driving your knuckles into his ticklish side, watching him writhe and laugh beside you. “Are a pig.” 

He jumped away from you, but continued to laugh and smile your way. “And I’m so very good at it.” 

You could feel yourself blushing at the attention despite the fact that you’d grown used to Gojo’s behavior. Of all the people you could have befriend in high school, you just had to gravitate towards the strangest and loudest one of them all.

Gojo let up when you grabbed your bag from your seat and flung it over your shoulder, feeling every movement of your body with a never ending, deep ache. You were unbelievably sore after a mission, a mission so violent that the mental wounds it left you with were somehow aching worse than the physical ones.

Gojo grimaced when he saw you wince from the pain. 

“Still sore?” 

You nodded. “My back.” 

He approached you again, but this time it was to take your bag from your shoulder. “Are you sure you should be wandering around campus and getting back to class yet? I’m sure lugging Suguru’s ass around a field wasn’t easy on your cute little body.” 

You rolled your eyes and worked to suppress the smile threatening to spread onto your lips. “If I had it in me, I’d beat your ass right here.” 

He put his free arm around you as the two of you descended the steps of the school hall. “I’m just fucking with you. How is Getou, anyway? I haven’t seen him since you got back, Yaga won’t let me. I heard he got his ass kicked, though.” 

You swallowed hard, shaking your head at the thought of your boyfriend’s drained state. 

“Curse never touched him” you corrected Gojo. “It was…dramatic.” 

Gojo peered at you through the side of his sunglasses. You could see just a little beam of sun reflecting his eyes’ color back at you. 

“And by that you mean…?” 

The memory sat so heavy in the forefront of your mind that a bit of a headache began to form. You didn’t want to relive the experience. You wished you could just forget the whole mission and pretend it had never happened. 

“It uh, it was his first time using his technique on a special grade, but Yaga doesn’t think that’s what happened.”

Gojo groaned. “What did happen?” 

“He just…collapsed” you began, staring into the grass that was swaying at your feet. “He ate it, he was fine, and while we were walking to the car he just fell into the grass and started throwing up. It was…”

“Dramatic?” 

“Bloody” you muttered, your voice dropping a bit despite Gojo’s teasing. “Very, very bloody.” 

Typically, Gojo would see a look like that on your face and quickly try to divert the conversation in a different direction. If there was one thing Gojo wasn’t the best at dealing with, it was emotions. You loved him for many things, but going to him for advice on feelings wasn’t one of them. 

Now, he just reached down, grabbed your hand, and gave it a squeeze. “He’ll be fine. You know he can’t go without drama for too long. He’s probably just meeting his quota.” 

There was so much more you could vent about, so much more you could say about what had happened that day, but you just smiled and nodded. There was no reason why Gojo should have to have such terrible memories as well. 

“I know. I just miss him.”

Gojo wrapped his arm around your shoulder, giving you a little hug before his attention was torn away by the sound of his name. 

“Satoru” the voice shouted, loud and high-pitched as it echoed across the courtyard. “Hey, Satoru.” 

The two of you looked across the courtyard to find a group of first year girls, all waving Gojo down with dumb smiles on their faces. They all messed with their skirts and straightened their backs, trying to flash their best flirtatious smiles toward your companion.

Gojo gave the girls that million dollar smile before rubbing his free hand down your back. 

“Love you” he whispered in your ear. “But I promised them we’d study.” 

You raised an eyebrow. “Study, Toru?” 

He sent the smile in your direction this time before pulling you in, placing a gentle kiss on your temple.

“Yes. Study.”

“Wait, wait, back up” Yuuji interrupts, raising his hand into the air as if he’s back in your class. “You dated brain-worm-Getou?” 

Nobara smacks Yuuji hard on the back of the head. The boy reels forward a bit, some liquor pouring from his glass, but Nobara doesn’t let him off the hook. 

“Itadori, Jesus God.” 

“Ouch” he mutters, rubbing his hand through his overly-done pink hair. “You know what I meant. That’s all I knew about Getou. He wasn’t exactly Sorcerer of the Year when we met.” 

You wave them off, though there’s a twinge of pain shooting through your chest. If only they could have really known Getou, known the man you’d befriend and fallen in love with in high school.

You’ve always felt in your gut that they would have adored him.

“It’s fine, it’s fine. Yes Yuuji, Getou Suguru and I dated for three years.” 

There’s a moment of strange silence. Yuuji’s cheeks are red as could be, a mixture of embarrassment and liquor giving him the color. Nobara and Maki avoid making eye contact with you.

Finally, Maki huffs to herself. “Jeez, always just assumed he was Gojo’s boyfriend.” 

It’s Maki’s turn to feel Nobara’s wrath. She reaches toward the older girl, giving her hair a tiny tug. 

“Stop” she demands. “Teach, finish the story.” 

You reach out to give Yuuji a reassuring pat on the knee before you continue your tale.
 
You were glad that Suguru was well enough now to go back to his dorm room. Watching him suffer, watching the strongest person you know lie around in agony for over a week was draining to say the least. You needed new memories of him to be made to drown the image of him seizing and begging for help in the dirt.

Suguru leaned back into your touch, your nails running over his scalp and hair as he let his eyes drift shut. 

“Tired?” you wondered, drawing little shapes on his bruised skin. 

He shook his head. “Nauseas. Terribly.” 

Your chest ached, the urge to wrap your arms around him to protect him getting stronger with every breath. It would surely hurt him if you did, irritate the bruises and agitate his upset stomach, but the separation was killing you. You needed him, but you could only have so much of him. 

“What happened?” you wondered, trying to keep your voice soft so not to irritate his sickness. “I mean, what do the teachers think happened?” 

He pulled away from you then, sitting up and letting his hair out of the already destroyed bun. You watched in awe as he did, somehow still so enthralled with him despite years of dating. He was just pretty. He was always so put together, so elegant and soft in all the right ways. The bruises and cuts didn’t matter to you. There were too many gorgeous things about Suguru for him to be marred by simple wounds. 

He was quick to return his face to the skin of your belly when his hair was freed. He nuzzled you, letting his soft skin meet with yours so deeply it was as if he wanted to sink into your body to rest.

“They think it was a mix of the fact that it was my first special grade, and the fact that I was already exhausted from fighting” he mumbled into your skin. “Physical thing, I suppose.”  

Immediately, an unsettling feeling took root in your gut. You’d seen Getou fight until he was bleeding and collapsed. You’d seen him consume more curses in one day than you could count.

  You’d never seen him like you did last week.

The memory was borderline painful to think of. You’d kept most of the details between yourself and Yaga, trying not to spread Getou’s business about to your friends, but bottling it up wasn’t helping the discomfort. 

You have to shut your eyes tight to chase the thought away. You had already spent the last few nights dreaming of Getou in that field, body covered in a clammy sweat, eyes rolling back into his head. The sounds of his agony was haunting you in your sleep. The last thing you needed was for it to haunt your waking moments as well.

“I just want to make sure that doesn’t happen again” you whispered. “You scared me.”

Suguru lifted your shirt just a bit more and kissed the soft skin of your belly. His lips feel familiar, soft. They trail across your sensitive skin until little goosebumps are shooting up your sides. 

“I’m sorry” he breathes, not seeming to notice your jitters.

You lifted his shirt next, exposing the bruised skin of his back to you. The slow scraping of your nails down his spine always seems to soothe him, so you content yourself with scratching slowly and firmly up and down his back. 

He hummed into your skin. “I missed you.” 

“I came to visit you everyday, Suguru.” 

His hand crept further up your shirt. “I really missed you.” 

You tilted your head back and gave him the ghost of a moan, unable to suppress the sensation he spread through your bones. “What happened to your nausea?” 

Both his hands were fully up your shirt, rubbing your chest and sides with firm, slow motions. It sends electricity down your spine, even the slow strokes enough to send you reeling. 

“Did you know that sex is good for you when you’re sick?” he wondered. “Hormones, ya know?” 

You couldn’t help but laugh, running your fingers through his hair as he contented himself with palming and kissing your skin. “Yeah, the last thing we need is for someone to catch us again. I don’t want-” 

Before your sentence could leave your lips, the door to Getou’s dorm opened with so much force that it slammed into the wall behind it. 

“Hey, do you guys wanna-”

Gojo stopped speaking when he caught sight of the two of you. A deep frown filled his face, his fingers reaching up to lower the sunglasses seated over his eyes. 

“Jeez” he grumbled. “So I strike out on all three girls I was hanging out with today, and the two of you get to play grab-ass with the door open?” 

Getou pulled his hands from your shirt and sat up, smoothing his own clothes out over his midsection. “What do you want, Satoru?” 

Gojo threw himself onto the foot of Getou’s bed. “To complain about the fact that somehow, someway, three girls were fighting over me today until they got so wrapped up in the fight that they forgot about me.” 

A smile was pricking at the corners of Getou’s mouth, but he held the laughter in. “God knows how anyone could forget that you were in a room, Toru.” 

Satoru balled his fist in Getou’s direction, but was quick to lower it back into his lap. “If you hadn’t just thrown all your organs up in a field, I’d be kicking your ass right about now.” 

If Satoru’s smile was worth a million dollars, Suguru’s was worth a billion. He flashed his teeth at Gojo, gorgeous, dark eyes crinkling at the edges. You’d die right about now to jump his bones, but with Gojo complaining about his failed sex life, the mood has burned away to nothing but your typical adoration of your boyfriend.

Suguru settled back into your lap. “Is anyone hungry?” he wondered. “I haven’t eaten good food in almost a week, and Toru can’t complain about his love life if his mouth his full.” 

You knew it was coming the instant Getou spoke, and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

Gojo winked at Getou, letting his tongue roll out of his mouth for a second. “I won’t have to complain about my love life if my mouth is full of you, baby.” 

Getou punched Gojo so hard in the thigh that Gojo doubled over himself. 

“You’re so gross” Suguru accused. “Seriously. Food, you two.” 

Gojo nodded, clapping his hands together before rising up to his feet. “Shoko said she’s cooking tonight, cold soba.” 

“Oh” Getou sighed, his nose wrinkling a bit. “I want warm food. I’ve been eating Yaga’s crappy old man takeout food all week.” 

You couldn’t help but smile a bit at the thought despite Getou’s disgruntled tone. Yaga did everything he could all week to ensure that your boyfriend was well and cared for. Though Gojo and Getou wore the poor teacher down with their antics, he had a strange soft spot for them. You just knew that seeing something so painful happen to one of the boys was weighing on him. It showed in the uncharacteristic way he’d spent the week caring for Suguru.

“Well” you sighed, rising up to your feet. “Let’s get you some good food.” 

Suguru reached out and took your hands, allowing you to slowly pull him up to his feet. Gojo let one of his own hands support his best friend’s back. 

“You guys” Suguru sighed once he was on his feet. “I can walk. I can get up on my own.” 

You pulled him into you as gently as you could manage, wrapping your arms around his waist and settling your hands on his behind. “What if I like holding you, hm?”

He couldn’t help himself. Despite Gojo lingering behind the two of you, Suguru took a hold of your hips and pulled you hard against him. 

“As much as I wish you could hold me all night, I’m still starving.” 

Gojo reached around Suguru and smacked his hand down hard on his friend’s behind. Getou jumped, swatting behind him with vigor.

Gojo was staring Getou down with a poisonous grin. “You don’t wanna hold me, baby?” 

It was Getou’s turn to give you a wicked little smile before turning to Toru with the same grin. 

“You know what, Gojo?” he began, letting you go and turning towards his companion. “I do wanna hold you, all night long. Come here.” 

Gojo wiggled his eyebrows over his sunglasses and reached out his arms. “Oh yay. It’s finally my time.”

You loved the two boys with all of your heart, but you’d known them both nearly your entire life. As much as Suguru and Satoru were well matched, no one in the world could beat Satoru in simply being odd. 

The closer Gojo’s hands got to Getou’s hips, the wider Getou’s eyes became. 

“Gojo” he warned. “I was joking.” 

His warning didn’t slow Gojo down in the slightest. The man wrapped his arms around Suguru’s waist and lifted him effortlessly off the floor. 

There was nothing you could do but laugh. Gojo had the brightest smile on his face, hauling Getou up into his arms and holding his best friend close to his chest. Getou was positively horrified.

“Babe” he begged, reaching his arms out to you. “Help. Help me.” 

 You shook your head. “You signed up for the Gojo love, Sug. You have to face the consequences.” 

“Exactly” -Gojo pressed his cheek against Suguru’s- “You said you’d hold me.” 

With that, Satoru had carried Suguru out of the room and started down the hallway with your boyfriend still tightly in his arms. You could still hear Getou’s calls for help. Satoru’s roaring laughter nearly drowned it out.

Maki takes the last sip of her beer and sets the bottle down on the bar. The tender doesn’t even need to be told that she is going to be needing another. 

“So what you’re telling us is that Gojo spent more time third wheeling you?” she concludes. 

You shrug, the tiniest of smiles gracing your lips. “In a way. He talked a big talk about getting a lot of girls, but most of the time it was the three of us hanging out. Our teachers literally called us the Idiot Squad our last year.” 

Yuuji laughs, but it’s weaker than before. The young man is beginning to sway a bit in his chair, leaning on Nobara for support. 

“They should have called us that” he giggles, turning his face up toward Nobara. 

She taps his forehead. “You can call us that if you want, Itadori.”

 He leans deeper into his friend, his head pressing into her stomach. “I’m gonna. That’s us now, Nobara. You, me, and Megumi are the Idiot Squad now.” 

“Okay” Nobara sighs, shoving Yuuji away a bit. “I’m taking him up to his hotel room. I’ll be back down in a little while.” 

Yuuji swipes her hand away. “No. You got to ask your question. I wanna” -Yuuji burps- “I wanna ask mine.” 

Nobara rolls her eyes, and though there’s a grimace on her face, she steps back into her previous position to let her friend lean on her side. 

You take another small sip of your own drink, unable to contain the joy that seeing Yuuji’s antics brings you. Though you’re not as intoxicated as your former student, you’re beginning to feel the effects of the liquor in your cup. His light laughter makes you warm. You can swear Nobara’s smile is the greatest thing you’ve ever seen. 

Part of you fears answering whatever questions Yuuji has to ask, but in a way that excites you. Your palms shake a bit at the thought of telling a little too much of the truth under the influence of alcohol.

“Okay, Itadori” you sigh. “Ask away.” 

He leans forward a bit, his hair flopping in front of his eyes. He makes no move to fix it.

“Okay, so…so you dated Getou, yeah?” 

You nod. 

“How different was, you know, Getou Getou from Kenjaku Getou?” 

Nobara’s smack is forceful this time. She hits Yuuji hard on the shoulder, so hard that he turns to her with a disgusted face. 

“What?” he snaps. 

Nobara shoves an aggressive hand your way. “Don’t ask that. It’s so inappropriate.”

You wave Nobara off, trying your best to keep the violence to a minimum. “It’s fine” you assure her. 

She backs off a bit, but her eyes are still burning into Yuuji. 

You look off a bit into the crowd as you try to muster some sort of answer for Yuuji. Gojo somehow floats into your line of vision once again. 

He’s surrounded by less people now, seeming to be a little more animated than earlier. The alcohol has clearly gotten to him a bit. He’s traded his blindfold for a pair of sunglasses, his hair messy and falling in front of his face. 

You don’t stop staring at Gojo as you begin to speak. "

“Suguru was…” 

Kind. Gentle. Loving. Intimate. Strong.

Your entire little audience leans in as you pause.
 
You take a deep breath. “Suguru was balanced” you conclude, shoving down most of your feelings and settling for an easy answer. “I was a little intense. He had his moments, but he was calm in the moments I wasn’t. He had a way of making everything work out.” 

Maki snorts. “You were a little intense?” 

“Yes” you giggle. “If you think I’m intense now, imagine me in high school when I was all hormonal and stressed out.” 

Your former students laugh, but it doesn’t last long. They all go silent rather quickly, leaning in to hear more of your words. 

Nobara takes a sip of her own drink. “Not to be as rude as Yuuji, but I can’t imagine it, you know, Geotu being like that?” 

Yuuji and Maki mutter in agreement, and though your brain is already swirling with all the softest and most careful thoughts of Getou, you understand. It still stings terribly to remember your last memories of Getou’s face. In opposition to your former students, you have a hard time thinking of Getou in the violent way that they remember him.

You shake your head, trying to get the thoughts to leave you. 

“I understand” you tell Nobara, nodding. “I’m the opposite, I guess.” 

The bar has become significantly less chaotic since your conversation with your students began. A heavy mood has settled in between your students and yourself. 
Maki speaks up, but it’s the first time since you’ve met the girl that her voice comes in a whisper. 

“That’s why you broke down in Shibuya” she discovers, setting her empty bottle down on the bar. “You thought your boyfriend was dead.” 

Sometimes, you forget that your students saw you fall to your knees, turn your head to the sky, and scream so loud that your throat went raw from the friction. It doesn’t feel like it really happened to you. 

Blood was dripping down his detached hairline and into his mouth, pulled into a sickly grin. 

“Yeesh, how’d you guess?”

You hear it in your sleep. 

You see the skin of Getou’s forehead pull apart in your nightmares, hear the scraping of bone on bone when a room goes quiet for too long. 

“No” you whisper, looking down into the dwindling liquid in your glass. “I knew it wasn’t Suguru the moment I saw him, but it was Suguru’s face. That was enough.”
 
Nobara tilts her head. “How’d you know so fast?”
 
Your face twists against your will, eyes narrowing as your brain is forced to concoct the memory. “Sugu had this…this big, goofy smile that he only ever really showed around Gojo and I. He was embarrassed about it. That’s the face Kenjaku gave me in Shibuya.” 

 Yuuji reaches out his drunk little hands, placing them atop yours. They’re trembling a bit, warm and sweaty, but he grips yours so tightly that you fear they’ll crack. 

“Why didn’t you tell us?” he wonders, his eyes staring into yours. For a moment, he doesn’t look drunk. He doesn’t even seem tipsy. He gazes upon you with gentle eyes and attempts to sooth the ache in your soul by swirling his thumb over your hand. 

You shake your head. “There was too much going on, and you guys never knew Getou. You only knew Kenchaku. They’re two entirely different people to me.” 

Nobara gives you a weak, careful smile. “He sounds like he was a good guy.” 

“Before the world ruined him?” you mumble. “Yeah, he was the best.”

Your words hang in the quiet, drunken air. None of your students speak, but everyone is sure to avoid meeting your eyes. 

Maki squeezes your shoulder then, raising her glass into your line of sight. 

“Well” she begins, trying her best to muster up a smile. “I knew Getou, and even though I wasn’t a fan, I believe everything that comes out of your mouth. To Getou.” 

Your jaw drops a bit when Yuuji raises his near empty glass to Maki’s, Nobara’s joining the group. 

“To Getou” Yuuji chirps, a little life being pumped back into him at the thought of drinking again. “Ya know, the one that loved teach.”

Everyday for the last seven years, thinking of Getou has caused you pain. It makes your stomach churn, your chest burn. You always thought that you’d stop with all the theatrics when you were a few years out from such a great pain, but the tears still come. The ache still lives.

This is the first time in almost a decade that hearing Getou’s name doesn’t hurt.

You raise your glass and complete the toast, clinking your glass to those of your students. 

“To Sugu.” 

The four of you throw the last of your drinks back, lining all of your glasses up on the bar when it’s over. 

You can’t tell if the lightness in your body is from the liquor, or from the love of your students. You don’t care. The high is enough to keep the smile plastered to your face.

Yuuji leans forward again once his drink is gone, his eyes shut, his finger poised like he’s going to ask another question. You wait with the girls, but his question never comes.

“Yuuji” Nobara says with a small laugh. “We should take you upstairs. A lot of people are starting to filter out, anyway.” 

Finally, Yuuji nods. “Tired.”
 
Though you and Maki are laughing at his state, Yuuji doesn’t seem to notice. He’s giving all of his effort to leaning on Nobara as she helps him out of his chair.
 
“Bye Yuuji” you giggle, watching him smile and laugh with his lids drifted shut. “Get some rest. We can grab some lunch tomorrow if you can walk.” 

He nods. “Okay. Love you.” 

He reaches out his hands, offering them to you and Maki. You both give one a quick squeeze. 

With that, Nobara turns and begins to lead Yuuji away towards the stairs. 

Maki turns to you and gives a roll of her eyes. “Lucky that Gojo goes over the top and gets hotel rooms every year.”
 
“Cut him some slack” you tell her with a laugh, unable to take your eyes off Nobara shoving Yuuji’s slumped body into an elevator. “You were the same way the first year you were allowed to drink.” 

Maki shrugs, but you can see the smile creeping onto her lips. 

She steps down from her own chair then, turning out towards the crowd. 

“I’m going to go find Megumi. He’s sharing a room with Yuuji and at least deserves a warning.” 

You nod. “Alright. I’m gonna say goodnight to Gojo and head up to shower.” 

The two of you parts ways, and when Maki has vanished into the waning crowd, you turn your focus on Gojo. He’s stopped entertaining his typical crowd of party goers and has settled for kicking his feet up beside Shoko and sipping away at a new drink. 

“Hey, Toru.” 

A large smile lights up his face when he lays eyes on you. He pushes his sunglasses up into the correct position on his face, rises to his feet, and opens his arms. 

“Hey” he chirps, wrapping his arms around you. “Did you have fun?” 

You nod into his chest that you’re crushed against. He smells purely of Gojo, liquor and cologne swirling together until you grow dizzy from the scent. 

“I always love seeing my old students.” 

“Do you love seeing me?” 

You’re finally able to get your arms up from his grip and wrap them around him. He feels skinnier than normal, but you say nothing. You just relish the feeling of having your best friend back in your arms. “I always love seeing you too, Toru.” 

Shoko walks around your embrace, laying her hand between your shoulder blades. 

“Hey” she says gently. “I love you guys. I’m going to bed.” 

The two of you say farewell to your friend before turning your focus back on one another. 

“Did you have fun?” you wonder. “You looked like you were telling some pretty good stories.” 

He begins to sway back and forth a bit, the two of you doing a strange, out of time dance to the music playing over the dwindling crowd. It feels oddly familiar. You’ve always been so close to Gojo, the best of friends. Being away from him to work so much lately has been nearly unbearable. His arms feel familiar, like coming home.

He runs his hand up and down your back, slowly and firmly. “I always tell the best stories. You should know that.” 

It’s true. No story you could ever tell would be more enthralling than a Satoru Gojo story. 

Around the two of you, most of the people in the bar have left. Only a few mill, and they’re all hanging towards the elevators and doors just so they can continue to sip from the drinks before they go. 

Gojo seems to think that the two of you are the only two people in the world. He holds you close, so close that you can feel the always rapid beat of his heart. It isn’t the first time Gojo has held you like this. Though the last time you were in his arms like this was the day of your infamous breakdown, something about the memory sickeningly comforts you. 

The last trickle of people leaves the bar with a metallic clank of the elevator doors, leaving you and Gojo alone in one another’s embrace. Silence surrounds the two of you. 

Gojo doesn’t stop swaying. 

You squeeze him harder. He lays his cheek on your head and sighs. If you were just a little different than the human you are now, just a little less scarred and a little less afraid, you could swear you were sixteen years old again. If there had been just one less pain, one less wound, maybe it would be a happy moment. 

A tear pricks at the corner of your eye, but you blink it away. There hasn’t been a single one of these reunion parties where you haven’t gotten a little emotional, but something about tonight just feels off.

Maybe it’s the liquor.

Maybe it’s the way Gojo has begun to run his hands through your hair. 

Maybe it’s knowing that Getou should be here, interrupting your little dance and stealing you away so he can hold you close to his own chest. 

You bury your face into Gojo’s chest and pray that he doesn’t hear you when you whimper out his name. 

“Gojo?” 

“Hm?” 

It takes more courage in you to expel the sentence from your throat than any battle or mission ever has.

“I miss him so much.” 

The silence that follows is so long that you wonder if he heard you. He doesn’t slow down the sway of his body, doesn’t stop stroking his hands through your hair, but he does seem to hunch over you just a bit. It’s as though you can feel the grief make it’s way up his spine and to his lips.

When his voice comes, it comes in nothing more than a breath. “Me too.” 

”I’m gonna miss you so much.” 

You ran your hands up Getou’s bare chest. Your fingers bumped over scars and bruises, and though you feared pressing too hard on any marred skin, you couldn’t help but touch him as much as you possibly could. 

“You just went on such a long mission” you whispered. “I don’t want you to get hurt.” 

He let out a little laugh, rattling your body a bit. “You don’t think that I think that every time you go out on a mission?” 

As much as you wanted to argue still, find more reasons why he should stay, you couldn’t deny the truth of his statement. Before every mission, he found some way to delay your leaving as long as he could. Whether it was getting you a romantic dinner and dancing clumsily in the courtyard of your apartment with you, or simply taking you to bed and ravishing you until your will to go was gone, he always had a way of making you stay just a bit too long. 

“I just can’t imagine my life without you” you breathed. “You’re my sun and stars.”

He pulled you closer to him. Your mind screamed out at you to move, to release your hold on him to keep your body from hurting the wounds on his, but he didn’t let you. 

“You won’t ever have to live a life without me” he assured. “You’re stuck with me.” 

The thought of being ‘stuck’ with Suguru made you smile. You would have done just about anything to have some sort of normal life with him, a life where you could plan things like a wedding or buying a home or having children together. Jujutsu was insanely important to your life. 

Somehow, Suguru always meant so much more.

“Suguru?” 

It wasn’t often you called him his full name when the two of you are curled up naked in bed. It caught his attention, both dark eyes falling on you. The stare was panicked. He sat up a bit, brushing his hair out of his face. 

You sighed, pulling yourself up so you could bury your face in his belly. 

“Don’t die” you breathed, nuzzling his skin. “Please. I want to marry you. I want to spend my life with you.” 

Suguru backed up a bit at your sincerity, lifting your face gingerly out of his lap so you could meet his eyes. 

“Darling” he began, stroking gently at the skin of your face. “What’s going on? You’re upset.” 

You rolled into his lap so you could look up at him comfortably. “Of course I’m upset, Sugu. I’m gonna miss you.” 

“No” he concluded. “It’s something else. Tell me what’s going on.”

Something about telling Suguru that you’d like to marry him always felt strange. You’d said it a few times before, and he always seemed to respond with joy. You couldn’t imagine anything better than marrying Suguru, so seeing his face light up with that big, goofy smile every time the subject came up was enough to send your heart racing. 

You shrugged. “I just…I don’t know, Suguru. Do you ever wish we could have a normal life? Like, a normal life where we get married and have kids?” 

The silence went on for longer than you’d hoped. He stared off a bit into your room, seeming to weigh all of the things he could say. 

Finally, he looked down at you with a smile. “How about this?” 

You reached up to play with a piece of his hair that was hanging down. “How about what?” 

“How about we start planning a wedding when I get home?” 

A wedding?

It took you a second to register what he had said. You went over the word ‘wedding’ over and over, trying to make sense of it in your head. 

“Wedding?” you wondered, trying to hide the shock that was rapidly creeping into your voice.

Suguru nodded. The wide grin was still plastered to his face. 

“A wedding” he assured. “And not a Jujutsu wedding with the tradition and the strict rules. I want a real wedding where you’re allowed to pick out an outfit you want and we drink and we celebrate.”

Your heart was beating so hard in your chest that you were sure Suguru could feel it. 

A wedding. 

You’d dreamed of marrying Suguru since the day you met him. You’d always known since the first kiss that he was it for you, and you’d always prayed he felt the same. Even in moments where he said he wanted to spend forever with you, the thought of being with someone like him for life never felt like it could be more than a dream. 

Talk of that dream becoming reality made your head spin. 

You sat up so you could situate yourself in Suguru’s lap, burying your face into his neck. 

“Will the Higher Ups recognize a marriage that isn’t technically a Jujutsu one?” you wondered. 

Suguru shrugged. “I don’t care. It’s not for them.”

You couldn’t help yourself. The joy welled up so quickly that it was overwhelming, burning. You threw your arms around Suguru’s neck, knocking him back onto the bed. 

“We’re gonna have a wedding” you said through a laugh. “We’re gonna get married. You’re gonna be my husband.” 

He laughed, reaching up to take your face in his hands. “That’s the purpose of the wedding, yeah.” 

Just hearing the word ‘wedding’ come out of his mouth was enough to send tears to your eyes. 

His smile was quick to fade. He wiped a tear in your bottom lid with his thumb, pulling you closer. 

“Why are you crying?” he asked, genuine concern dripping from his lips. 

You shook your head, the smile on your face a stark contrast to the tears dripping down your cheeks. 

“Nothing” you whispered. “I’m just excited. You’re gonna be my husband.”

“Hey.” 

Gojo’s voice rouses you from your thoughts. When you look up at him, he’s let his sunglasses slide down his nose so you can see his eyes. 

“You doing okay?” he wonders. “You were acting weird all night. I tried to talk to you when you first came in but you flew right to the bar.”
 
He releases you from his arms as you chew on your answer, gesturing over to the empty bar. 

“I’m just…having a hard time, I think” you tell him. “It’s been a busy year.”

He reaches his lanky arms over the bar and grabs two glasses. “Working a lot hasn’t ever been a problem for you before.”

“I’m just tired.” 

He abandons his attempts to reach over the bar for liquor, rising to his feet and walking behind instead. “You’re a bad liar, too.” 

You watch as he pours whiskey into each glass, passing one over the bar to you. 

“I’m not gonna sour your fun night with my moods, Satoru.” 

“Was it something the kids were telling you?” 

“Satoru, seriously” you warn, lifting your glass to your lips. 

He takes a sip of his own drink. “Is it the students?”

“No.” 

“Is it me?” 

You roll your eyes. “No, but it will be if you don’t drop it.” 

He swirls the liquor around in his glass a bit. 

“Is it Suguru?” 

“Dammit, Satoru. Stop.” 

He points his glass at you and lowers his sunglasses again. Blue burns into you, accusing yet concerned in a strange, contradictory glare. 

“So it’s Getou.” 

You shrug. “Of course it’s Getou. I miss him, Satoru. That’s all.” 

“No” he cautions. “You obviously always miss him, but you don’t always act like this. What’s up?” 

You stare into the amber liquid in your glass. Gojo would understand your plight better than anyone else would. The thought of bringing him back to such horrible memories, however, is leaving a vile taste in your mouth. There’s no point in dragging your best friend down with you. 

He sets his glass down on the bar so he can trace little patterns on the back of your hand with his finger. “Please?”
 
You sigh and take one more sip of your drink before burying your face in your hands. Tears are already pricking at the corners of your lids, but you wipe them away. 

“I’m angry, Satoru” you begin, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I’m angry that I spent a year getting over his death and trying to feel normal only to see his face again like…/that./ I’m angry that my last memories of his face are what they are.” 

Gojo sighs, stricken to silence. It unsettles you. You’ve never known Gojo to be left speechless.
 
When he speaks, it’s not the drunk, jubilant Gojo that was with you just moments ago. It’s someone else entirely. 

“We got to say goodbye” he whispers, not meeting your eyes. “I can live with that.” 

You huff out something like a tortured laugh. It burns coming up your throat. “I shouldn’t know what my fiance looks like with the top of his skull pulled off.”

Gojo perks up at your words. His lips curve a bit into a strange little smile. “Fiance? You never said anything about that to me before?”
 
You shake your head. “What does it matter? He’s dead.” 

“That doesn’t sound like you” he accuses, lifting his drink into his hands once again. “You’re being so morose about him. You never were before.” 

“That was before.” 

Gojo throws his head back and groans, his sunglasses falling back and revealing his eyes to you in their fullest. He makes no move to fix the glasses when he looks back your way. 

“I love you” he tells you bluntly. “But, you’re depressing me right now. If Sugu were here, he’d be the drunkest one in the room buying everyone drinks and telling stories. It feels icky to be all sad and mopey talking about him at a party.” 

You cock an eyebrow. “Icky? You’re thirty-two years old and it’s ‘icky?’”

He smiles a toothy grin for just a moment before finishing off his drink. 

It’s not unlike Gojo to unintentionally make you smile when you’re angry. Part of it infuriates you for some reason, but the heat of anger never lasts. It’s Toru. You love him more than anyone, and it’s nearly impossible for anyone in his life not to smile when they’re around him. All your years as best friends haven’t made you immune to his charms. 

You finish your drink as well. “Look Satoru, I always get weird at this thing. It feels bizarre to me that we’re celebrating what happened that day.” 

Gojo waves you off. “You know we’re not celebrating Shibuya. We’re celebrating the fact that we’ve all been through so much and still enjoy spending the evening together.” 

You know he’s right. Though there’s always a heavy feeling in your gut when you see all these people in one room together, you love seeing your former students. They mean everything to you. Seeing them so joyous is always worth the discomfort. 

“I know” you sigh. “I just have a hard time disconnecting Shibuya from him.”
 
Gojo grabs the whiskey bottle again, this time reaching for two shot glasses. “He really loved you, you know. He talked about you nonstop. It was annoying.” 
That statement completes the smile on your face. “I loved him. I was gonna marry him.” 

Gojo finishes pouring the whiskey into the shot glasses and points the neck of the bottle your way. “That would have been some wedding. How did you two even get engaged? I never even heard about it.” 

He slides the shot over the counter and into your hand. “It wasn’t formal or anything. There was no ring or like, a down-on-one-knee proposal. He told me when he got home from a mission, we’d get married.” 

“And…?” 

You look back down into your shot glass. The distorted, tiny view of your face wears an aching expression. 

“He never came home.”

You companion clicks his tongue. Both blue eyes dart around the room, long fingers beginning to tap on the glass of his drink. 

He doesn’t look at you when he speaks. “That uh, that would’ve been some wedding, you know?” 

You don’t look up. “Yeah? How’s that?” 

Gojo doesn’t look back to you quite yet, but he does let a smile creep back to his face. “You know how Sugu could hold his liquor.”

You roll your eyes. “He couldn’t.” 

“Exactly why it would have been so much fun.” 

The two of you can’t help but laugh together through the ache in your chests as you raise your shot glasses. It feels fresh being by Gojo’s side again, a little drunk, a little silly. 

“Cheers, then” he tells you. “To Getou’s weak stomach and loud mouth.” 

You raise your glass to his, clinking the vessels together before throwing the burning liquid down your throat. Gojo cringes at his own drink and pushes his sunglasses back over his eyes when he’s finished. 

“Question” he begins. “If Suguru were here right now, just the three of us, what would we be doing?” 

You pass your empty glass back to him. “We’d be a lot more drunk, probably on our way to some karaoke bar where you two would embarrass yourselves and I’d record it and post it on the Internet.”

Though you can’t see Gojo’s eyes beyond the tint of his glasses, you know he’s rolling them around in his head. 

“Why don’t we?” 

“Gojo, what?” 

“Go to karaoke” he clarifies. “Right now, you and me. Let’s go find a karaoke bar that’s busy, get plastered, and totally embarrass ourselves. For Sugu.”

If anyone else asked you something so ridiculous, you’d laugh. You’d never be caught dead doing something so embarrassing. 

Unless of course, Gojo Satoru was with you. 

You rise up from your barstool. “You know what? Why not.” 

Gojo’s arms go up over his head. “Yes. Let’s go.” 

He dashes around the counter on those long legs, letting his arm drape over your shoulder. He’s heavy as he leans on you, but you say nothing. You enjoy carrying the weight of your best friend. 

“Hey” he begins as you make it to the front door of the hotel bar, both of you staring out into the brightly lit Tokyo night. “What was it that he always used to say to us on missions? When we’d get pissy and start annoying him?” 

You smile gently at the memory. “Stop bitching. We’re here because we’re the strongest.” 

In a quick burst, Gojo points his finger out into the streets. “We’re the strongest. To the liquor.” 

You know by the way Gojo’s voice raises in pitch and his hips sway a bit as you walk that the alcohol is starting to churn in his blood. If he keeps drinking at the next bar, he most likely won’t remember much of the evening. 

It doesn’t matter. You will. 

Gojo steps out into the chilly evening with you on his arm, pulling you in close as the two of you stomp down the sidewalk. You look up to his stupid grin and smile. 

He gazes at you through the side of his sunglasses. “What?” 

“Nothing” you tell him, feeling you own little smile grow into one so large it matches his own. “I just really love you.”