Chapter Text
Oh, no.
Not again.
His hands clutch at his temples.
Shit!
His fingers dig into the skin beneath them in a rather futile attempt to ease the skull-crushing pain. Way too many images flash before his eyes on an endless loop. His mind is overloaded with information. As if that isn’t enough, there is a grating high-frequency noise in his head, replaying itself continuously; sounding like massive metal parts scraping across one another. It sends shivers down his spine. Goosebumps cover his arms and the back of his neck.
The pressure in his head, behind his eyes and in his ears keeps on building. It’s unbearable.
Please, not this again.
An underlying sense of dread and fear is starting to spread through him like poison. Gojo falls to his knees, gracelessly. His hands scratch at his own head, nearly drawing blood. His blindfold lays discarded and rumpled on the filthy pavement. He needs to get away. To find help. He needs someone, before he passes out. The strongest sorcerer mere seconds away from becoming completely vulnerable and helpless.
He needs—
With the last remainder of his cursed energy, he teleports himself to the one beacon of light—to safety—before he loses consciousness.
Gojo crashes on top of Nanami. A wet one at that. Gojo’s over-sensitized mind cannot comprehend the why’s and the how’s. He is rapidly losing his control over Six Eyes. There is no way for him to stop it, and therefore he has more and more trouble gaining any semblance of control over his cursed energy usage. Let alone using RCT to fix the mess he has become.
“Gojo?” Nanami asks perplexed, but the feeling is quickly being replaced by anger. “This is too intrusive, even for you.” He chides him, displeased and wholly embarrassed at being walked in on—nay, teleported in on—during his shower. He has just returned from work after a very long night. Furthermore, he is exhausted and famished. The only thing Nanami had wanted was to shower and wash away the filth from a day at work from his skin. Then cook himself a nice meal, and perhaps even open up a bottle of wine and enjoy a glass before he heads to bed. Nanami did not expect this.
“What the hell are you doing here? Get out!” Kento continues, oblivious to Gojo’s physical and mental agony. He heaves a deep sigh. Leave it to Gojo Selfish Satoru to thwart his plans and ruin his evening. God, what has he done in a former life to be punished like this in his current one?
Can’t make it stop.
It’s too much.
It's at that point that his migraine becomes too crushing and excruciating. Out of instinct and self-preservation, Satoru’s body shuts down. Gojo feels like he is being submerged; a submarine sinking into the darkest and farthest depths of the ocean.
“Gojo? Hey!” Nanami catches his annoying senpai’s body just in time before his head is about to hit the bathroom tiles.
“Shit!” Nanami cusses as he holds onto an unconscious Gojo. Well, there goes his evening.
-
Gojo’s clothes are soaked by the time Kento has manoeuvred the both of them out of the bathroom. The whole ordeal had been very awkward and time-consuming. A part of Kento can’t help but feel relieved that Gojo had been knocked-out throughout. Another part of him feels guilty for feeling that way when Gojo is very clearly not well.
Gojo has never set foot inside his current apartment. Nor does Nanami think that the older sorcerer knew where he lives. He must have teleported to Kento himself, for him to literally appear in his arms amidst his shower.