Chapter Text
heartbreak on the weekend.
friday was heavenly. when satoru came back from a mission overseas, he locked himself with you in your shared flat (as per usual after every time he had to go away for weeks). you cooked his favorite dish, ate together in bed some sweets he’d bought for you on his trip, and let your bodies lap in waves of passion for the rest of the night.
on saturday, nothing had strayed from your shared routine yet. you did the groceries, went out for a walk, and returned just in time to watch the weekly episode of your favorite show. during a bathroom break, you heard satoru’s phone ringing (you couldn’t pick up what he was saying from where you were so you assumed he went to another room to answer). when you asked who it was—out of mere curiosity—he had downplayed it stating it was “just the wrinkled asses asking questions about his assignment”.
you should’ve known better then. satoru was never one to hold off when it came to sharing details about his conversations with the higher-ups. not with you.
sunday morning already started atypically. your boyfriend wasn’t on his side of the bed when you reached out for him. his pillow was cold—he’d been gone for a while. and that fact alone wouldn’t have been daunting if the curtains in your bedroom weren’t closed and the air wasn’t loaded with the typical smell of summer humidity.
see, after a few weeks of living under the same roof, satoru picked up immediately how much you enjoyed bright and perfumed spaces. and so, while you still slept, he’d lit up an incense stick (your favorite scent) and open the curtain in your room (just enough to let the thinnest, gentlest sunbeam fall on your resting face). if after a few minutes the sweet aroma and sun rays failed to wake you up, he’d squat down next to you and start peppering your face with soft kisses until you did so.
not now.
now, you were alone and your flat was eerily quiet.
you called satoru as soon as you got up but he never answered. it was inevitable by then that you’d begin to worry. you tried to get distracted by doing some house chores, and filled your mind with trivial tasks but it was all futile.
him not pampering you that morning or missing a few calls wasn’t what disturbed you the most. and it wasn’t what you might didn’t know what haunted you. it was what you knew: satoru was a man of rituals. he didn’t just stop doing things out of the blue.
what if a curse lured him into a trap? what if the higher-ups decided to finally get rid of him?
what ifs,
what ifs,
what ifs.
as sorcerers, it was only natural to let your concerns grow around tragedies. but satoru couldn’t disappear just like that. he was the strongest. the worst thing that could have happened already did a few years ago and he’d assured you—after refining both his limitless and six eyes technique—that it wouldn’t happen again.
but something had happened.
you confirm it when he comes back at night.
fourteen missed calls.
eleven messages sent.
and he can’t even look at you when he crosses the door.
he just stands there, downcast eyes. unwonted and dejected.
you turn off the tv and get up from the couch you’d been laying on for the last five hours. slowly, wary, you walk until you stand in front of him. a few meters separate both of you (satoru seems to have no intentions to shorten them).
you stare at him. fists shut tight. there is a brief, sullen moment of silence in which you can’t tell if satoru is trying to figure out what to say or if he already did and just didn’t know how to spill it.
so, you speak first: “where were you?”
your voice travels across the room but doesn’t seem to reach him. you wait for an answer. you waited all day for him to reach out to you. yet satoru remains petrified —no, stoic. he shows no emotion whatsoever and it is mortifying.
you take a deep breath, fill yourself with courage, and raise your voice.
“i know you have things of your own but we promised to tell each other how we were when we needed it, remember?”
you do, at least.
it was one of your first missions, three years ago. you’d been sent off to deal alone with a semi-grade two curse—a lot to handle, considering that you were just a second-year student—. everything had gone well but you’d forgotten your phone back in your dorm and when satoru asked ichijida for you, he couldn’t find you nor contact you. he’d lashed out at everyone (shoko told you later she’d never seen him so unsteady).
that’s when you both swore to be always one call away. and both of you had fulfilled.
until now.
“gojo,” you push, alway’s so cautious about what could come after this. “what happened?”
he opens his mouth but makes no sound. you furrow your eyebrows and swallow.
finally, your name comes out in a strained whisper. you find his lost gaze extremely disquieting.
“baby,” you breathe, more anxious than before. you check his body for any signs of injuries, yet find no physical explanation for the pain in his tone.
just say what you have to say, damn it.
you take a step forward.
what he says next makes you take a step back, “we need to put an end to this.”
silence.
your eyes are wide-open and quickly burning with tears.
you wish you could doubt his words. by doing so, you might have stretched out your hopes further. maybe then, you would’ve laughed, satoru would’ve noticed the panic in your eyes and quickly assured you it was just a joke (the cruelest so far).
but satoru doesn’t owe you hope. and you certainly are not in shape of thinking positively.
so you don’t doubt his words.
cause you can’t.
not when he has never given you such a doleful look as in that moment.
you clasp the back of the sofa (you can barely stand on your two feet).
“i…” your voice cracks. you take a deep breath yet end up sputtering the words once again. “i—”
you’ve fallen at death’s door, wounded and bloody, crawling with what little strength you have left to get somewhere. looking for some kind of salvation —something to say. you wish to find some adequate words but your thoughts are all jumbled and it seems like an impossible task to rearrange them, lower them into your mouth, and spit them out just in time.
what was adequate to say during a breakup?
you consider getting down on your knees for an instant. just a despairing second. but then you recall that everything had started with satoru disappearing that morning and you understand with harrowing clarity: he has thought about this well. he has spent at least a few hours pondering before coming home with a decision already made.
he wants this.
so why (why the hell) is he crying?
“why are you crying?” you squeeze the question through your throat.
this great, invincible man of yours (hero of many) is shattering in front of you.
to your surprise, satoru chuckles, “why are you worrying about me?”
you frown your eyebrows and sniff. “cause your reaction would make more sense if I was the one breaking up with you.”
he nods in understanding.
“i’m sorry,” he finally croaks. “i don’t want to hurt you.”
and you believe him. hell, you really do. cause you have known this man for five years and loved him for more than four. notwithstanding his hearts’ intentions, it was inevitable for yours to deeply ache.
he had known you for five years.
you wonder for how many had he loved you before he stopped doing so.
“but… you want this, right?”
breaking up. leaving you behind. you need to be sure.
a simple ‘yes’ would’ve been sufficient and less heart-rending than hearing him spill a more explicit truth.
“i’m in love with someone else.”
you take a sharp breath and nod softly before turning your head to the side.
shame runs throughout your entire body —feelings unrequited. his actions are a reflection of your failure.
you despise yourself.
“so you don’t love me anymore.”
“that’s not what I said,” satoru quickly rebuts.
you bite your lip. him implying that he still loves you (in any sense of the word) is brutal (and unfair).
(so fucking unfair).
“then you don’t love me as much as you did before. or… most of your love has gone to another person. whatever it is, you’ve already made your decision. ”
the tense, heavy silence he shares is enough of an answer for you.
what happens next, then?
not next as in with the break-up. obviously, you know what will come (it is the standard procedure for every couple): moving out of the place you share, awkward conversations with your mutual friends, and protecting yourself with a social media purge. that was crystal clear.
no one ever talks about what follows immediately.
you feel extremely uncomfortable. satoru was your first serious relationship so naturally, you don’t know what to do.
it is late. will he sleep on the couch? (like you have seen so many times in the movies). or will you have to share the bed with a pillow between both of you? maybe he didn’t even want to stay under the same roof anymore but implying that he should leave feels (incredibly) out of place.
why are you so empathic with him in the first place? he just admitted that he would choose someone over you. you are heartbroken and allowed to ask for some space.
but you can’t.
cause you’d rather leave than see him leave you twice.
“well, i–uhm,” you fidget with your fingers. “i think I’ll leave for tonight.”
maybe you’ll go to shoko’s.
no.
shoko will give satoru hell as soon as she finds out (and you’re not in the mood to even talk).
your best option is kento. kento cares enough to take you in without a question. he’ll probably make you some tea, offer his bed and let you rest until you are ready to talk about it.
and that’s all you want to do now.
rest and forget.
satoru, unfortunately, isn’t finished with you yet. cause his hand grips your wrist and stops you by his side when you try to walk past by him.
you glance up at him in question.
“this is the most selfish thing i could ever ask,” he takes a pregnant pause and looks you in the eyes for the first time that night, “but… please. can we spend the night together one last time?”
oh.
he is a selfish bastard.
but you’re blinded too. it isn’t love anymore that keeps you there.
greed.
for a man whose love doesn’t belong to you anymore. for borrowing (not owning) his heart just once more.
satoru must’ve seen the gears turning in your head as his grip begins to loosen but you quickly slip your hand into his and give it a light squeeze.
you nod softly as you speak, “ok.”
you start walking towards your bedroom. satoru follows in silence. his hand never leaves yours. not until you reach the bed.
you crawl and lay on your side with your hands under your cheek. he mimics your position. the bed isn’t that big but he still manages to leave a couple of inches between your bodies. it was a slap in the face and you were starting to regret your decision.
he was obviously respecting boundaries but which ones? yours or his own’s?
your wondering opens the door to a series of possibilities that you’ve not wanted to consider yet. but you have to. for your own sake.
you’re merciful and loving. not stupid and naive.
“did you cheat on me?”
your whisper is not gentle.
the seconds it takes him to answer feel like an eternity.
“no,” a quiet beat. “why would you think that?”
you shrug.
you really don’t know.
you don’t know anything anymore (what the fuck are you doing there in the first place?) (run.)
“just had to be sure.”
and satoru has no right to be offended, you think. this whole situation is so sudden you can only wonder about what happened behind doors. there were no dramatic fights, no missed dates, and no (obvious) incompatibilities that led your relationship to its doom.
he had fallen out of love in quiet (and forbearing) silence.
“for how long?” you ask and satoru’s puzzled look forces you to elaborate. “for how long have you wanted to break up with me? did you return knowing what you wanted?”
“not quite.”
you raise an eyebrow.
“not quite?”
“i still loved you. I just didn’t know if I loved her m—”
you grimaced unwittingly and interrupt him. (you’re not doing this) (this is not what you stayed for). “stop.”
please, stop.
“i’m sorry, i’m sorry,” he offers a rushed apology and you let out a restrained laugh.
“stop apologizing.”
“i’m sorr—”
“satoru,” you warn. you lick your lips and shake your head. “i know you still love me. just… I’m not enough for you anymore. so I don’t blame you for falling in love with another woman. and i’m not angry either. maybe I should be, but i’m not. i just… i feel pain. i lot of pain. cause i still love you with all my heart and i have to let you go.“ a tear slides down his cheek. your hand moves on its own and sweeps it halfway. "but it’ll be ok. i promise. so please, don’t be sorry. and don’t you dare be half-hearted and regret this later.”
satoru doesn’t say anything. he utters no word, grabs the hand that you have on his face, and leaves a kiss on the palm.
you retrieve your hand and hold it against your chest.
it is not pleasant to find out that satoru was your whole life, and you ended up being just an episode. it is wounding to realize that joyful memories will become a source of bittersweet feelings. satoru retires with the winning hand. you, instead, will be trapped in a state of mourning for who knows how long.
you love this man.
you will continue to love him —for much longer than the time you shared your paths.
and, god. you want to spend the night preserving every tiny detail of his face (you’ll see him, you’ll definitely do). (but you’ll never look at him the same way). and you intend to use every second in your favor yet the weight of your heartbreak starts to fall upon your eyes and you know rest is inevitable.
i love you.
goodbye.