Work Text:
In the setting sun of a particularly hot summer night, Suguru Geto focused solely on the soft hum of the air conditioning unit in the corner of the small dormitory.
Golden rays of light filtered through the uncovered window and fell in different patterns over the room he currently resided in.
The floor was an uncomfortable host for him to lounge on, but Suguru couldn’t move - not when Satoru’s head cushioned softly on the fleshy part of his thigh. His back was to Suguru, but from the position they were currently entangled in, he could still make out every expression that pulled on his face. Whatever anime the other boy had decided to throw on had full reign over his attention. Suguru, it seemed, was more concerned with the crinkling of his best friend's eyes than what was happening on the screen.
He couldn’t even remember how they ended up settling on the floor. The small sofa, or loveseat really, was positioned behind Suguru, as a glorified backrest. It would only take a few movements to move both of them onto the plushy piece of furniture. Yet, neither made an attempt to do so. Instead, Satoru shifted his head against Suguru’s thighs, humming a bit as he made himself more comfortable.
Suguru examined his lanky body, curled into a fetal position, completely victim to the exhaustion that seemed to settle in both of their bones, like their own particular curses, lately.
It had been weeks since the two of them had a night like this. A night to unwind, to laugh, to drink, eat, watch tv, be kids. The heavy rock of emotion that appeared to have lodged in his chest was a permanent addition to his emotional state, recently. It was a weight that never seemed to leave his thoughts.
Especially now, staring at his best friend, and the way his shoulders curled inwardly when he laughed. Suguru couldn’t even remember what was playing on the TV. He hadn’t been paying attention when Satoru had exclaimed it was his turn to pick the show.
Instead, Suguru had focused on the blush that had settled high on his cheeks: a product of the sake they had bought and demolished in mere hours. He had focused on the way the other boy clung to him, held onto his shoulders and hung on until Suguru had agreed with whatever he wanted.
Like he was going to disagree, anyways.
No, it was always more fun to make Satoru think he wasn’t going to get what he wanted. The pouting, the jutting of his lip and defiant tilt of his head was much better than actually restricting him. Suguru would never admit it, but it was endlessly endearing to watch him flounder for reasons why he should get whatever he wanted.
Not that he would ever admit it to the other boy, but Suguru also believed Satoru should receive whatever he wanted. He often wanted to be the one to give it to him, as well.
He had always been weak for a pretty face.
Repeatedly, Suguru was reminded of how handsome Satoru was. It was hard to forget, but in their profession, there never seemed to be time to stand and gawk: to appreciate the boy he had become so close to. Now, though, with that same boy laid out in front of him, it wasn’t hard to get swept up in admiration.
Long pale lashes, brushed against his cheeks everytime he grinned at the screen. His body shook with laughter and Suguru was reminded of every place they were touching. Every part of his body that seemed to come alive when in contact with Gojo Satoru. Like he was personally wired to react to him, so viscerally.
Soft, white hair ticked the back of his hand. The air conditioning unit hummed in the background. The world was still. Yet calm.
For a moment, Suguru wanted nothing more than to stop time. To steal Satoru’s infinity and lock them in this position forever.
For just a moment, he didn’t want to be Geto Suguru: special grade sorcerer. He didn’t want to exorcise curses, to clean up mutilated bodies day after day, just to lose his own friends.
He didn’t want Satoru to be a part of the Gojo clan. To be destined to the title of world’s most powerful sorcerer. To be subjected to a life of solo missions with no one to lean on.
He just wanted to be Suguru and Satoru: two teenagers who watch anime together, who go to school together, who live normal lives together. Not two teenagers who worry the other will be in a body bag when they return from missions.
Suguru’s heart clenched at the thought. How many times had he faced that exact prospect? How many times had he seen Satoru beaten to a pulp, just to be healed by Shoko and return to normal the next day? Didn’t they deserve a break?
“Suguru…”
His own name startled him out of whatever dark reverie his thoughts had drifted to. He shifted his gaze to the owner of that voice, to where Satoru now had shifted onto his back, and was staring up at him with those bright, endless eyes.
Whatever Satoru saw in his face must've been dark, because he sat up only a moment later, with a creasing of his forehead and a furrowing of pale eyebrows. His movement was fluid, graceful, unfaltering as always. Suguru’s throat tightened. Satoru was always the steady one.
The lack of physical pressure against his body was a devastating loss. The small part of him that was grounded, controlled, was gone.
“Are you okay?”
Concerned eyes, the color of the limitless sky, stared at him. The air conditioning unit hummed in the background. The world was still. Yet burning around him.
There seemed to be no words that would convey what he was properly thinking. There was nothing he could say that would calm the surging waves of rage that had begun to build within him. He was lost at sea, and not even the all-powerful Gojo Satoru could pull him out of these waters.
In the end he settled on, “The floor is killing my ass.”
Satoru stared at him for a moment, his eyes almost unseeing. Or seeing everything all at once. Suguru couldn’t gauge. He wondered just how much those eyes really could perceive, and how Satoru lived with it every day of his life. It seemed a burden too heavy to bear. He understood why the other boy often shielded them with glasses.
The world seemed to freeze in the time between Suguru’s words and Satoru’s next response. The silence was almost deafening.
He could tell Satoru didn’t believe him. He could see it in the way his eyes dimmed. In the way his shoulders deflated.
“Couch?” Even as he spoke the words, he was standing up and offering a hand to Suguru.
Clasping his friend's hand, he allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. However, once there, Satoru didn’t release his hand. Rather, his grip tightened, and his eyes hardened with a resolve that Suguru couldn’t quite place.
“Come back.” His voice was soft, but the pain was there, clear as day. Suguru felt his own heart constrict at the words. “Wherever you just went, come back to me.”
He stared, in awe, at his best friend. There was still a flush on his cheeks, his hair was disheveled, sticking up even more than it usually did, and yet his awareness of Suguru’s own state was as clear as day.
The rock in his chest softened as hard pieces of pain and hate crumbled away to gratitude and love. Horrified, he realized his eyes burned with something very similar to tears as he stared at his best friend.
Their hands remained clasped and Suguru could feel the intensity of Satoru’s grip on his own. It was painful, searing almost. But it felt nearly identical to a lifeline.
“I can’t,” The words were a mere whisper out of his lips.
Because the pain, the anger, the hatred for their work lately had been building up. It was all consuming. He felt like he had already lost a part of himself to it, and more of his own soul was surely to follow.
“Don’t say that.” Satoru’s response was instantaneous. His voice was hard but Suguru could see his own pain reflected there in his eyes.
He could see every moment of suffering, torture and hopelessness he had felt cast back on himself. Wordlessly, Satoru was screaming at him that he wasn’t alone. Suguru had no idea how the other boy knew what he was thinking, but he had never been more grateful.
A sob wracked through his chest just as Satoru pulled him into a crushing hug. Slim, sure hands, gripped into the soft material of his sweater, clawing him in place.
“Don’t go where I can’t follow, Suguru.”
Suguru could do nothing but bury his head into Satoru’s shoulder as his body convulsed with an emotion he hadn’t let himself feel in years.
Steady, warm hands gripped his body into place. Fitting his broken pieces back into their mold once again. The air conditioning unit hummed in the background. The world was still. Yet his heart beat in time to only one other.