Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Satoru stumbled, his legs nearly buckling beneath him, up a stone walkway, half blind with pain. One of his arms wrapped tightly around his torso, the other swinging uselessly at his side. Blood spattered beneath him with each step, his path marked by crimson footprints that trailed, scraped and messy, up towards the building before him. His head swam, pain throbbing with each thought, and his eyes ached, his bandages draped rather uselessly around his neck. Each blink felt like sandpaper, irritated tears clumping in his eyelashes. His hair was slicked flat against his face, stained dark with a mixture of blood, sweat, and grime.

He wasn’t sure where he was going…but he knew he needed to get there.

He’d be safe there.

God, this was such a mess… He’d never been so thoroughly humiliated by a curse before. But the moment that first attack breached past his infinity barrier, he knew that he was totally fucked. His thoughts had blinked out into nothing and he’d just…reacted. What resulted had been a frantic, messy fight, one that he definitely wasn’t proud of, even if he had won in the end.

But at what cost?

If he went back to the school looking like this…who knew what would happen to him…

A stray leaf drifted down from overhead, fluttering by and brushing his nose. His eyes scrunched shut, stinging fiercely with frustrated tears that he blatantly ignored. His hand gripped tighter at his torn uniform, his body hunching over even further. Jaw clenching, he took another step forward, desperation fueling each movement.

Infinity was still off.

He couldn’t turn it back on.

He couldn’t—

Satoru released a shuddering breath, his eyes cinching closed as a wave of nauseating pain crashed over him. Sweat trickled from his brow, tracing frigid paths down his face, spilling into the blood and grime caked onto his skin. Blood crackled in his throat with every breath, and he kept swallowing to keep the contents of his stomach where it belonged. His vision swam with each step, the six eyes flickering between head-splitting clarity to completely fucked within the same second. He wanted to bash his head against the wall to silence it. To silence everything.

Suguru would know—

As usual, he stepped those thoughts in their tracks, not willing to let himself spiral. But this time, he paused, listening to the grating wheeze of his own lungs filling with blood, to the weak stutter of his heart beginning to fall out of beat. Blood spattered thickly at his feet, his arm doing nothing to plug the flow.

He was dying…

His techniques weren’t functioning and he was dying.

And well…if this was it anyway, he might as well indulge himself.

He choked out a laugh, a nearly manic smile splitting his face at the irony of it all. Funny that he tormented himself and policed his thoughts to the point of agony, but now, at the end, was when he felt the most free.

Maybe this was how Suguru felt, leaving him in Shinjuku.

God…he wanted to see him…

Even if it was only to say goodbye.

…

Ah, there were the tears…

He bit down on his lower lip, the sharp tang of blood washing over his tongue. A sob built in his chest, lodging itself against the thick knot in his throat. He could feel the tears streaming hot down his face, taste them like salt on his lips. But he couldn’t feel the cool wind on his face, couldn’t feel the tousling of his hair with each step forward, couldn’t see anything aside from the building in this distance. Even though, what, or rather who, he wanted to see more than anything was—

“Who are y—“ a light, feminine voice, pitched high with obvious youth, called out, each word spoken firmly and with an edge of danger, of suspicion. His concentration wavering at the sudden interruption, his knee buckled beneath him with his next step, sending his body toppling forward without its support. Eyes fluttering closed, he choked upon impact, dust billowing up around him. His good hand fisted in the dirt, fingernails scraping against stone. His heart raced in his chest, frantically thudding against bruised, probably broken ribs, but as much as he willed his body to move, it refused to respond to his commands.

Footsteps approached, two sets, relatively soft against the stone pathway. Probably experienced. His breath stuttered, fear and panic shooting like electricity through his system. Shit, shit, shit. He was so screwed… He couldn’t move, couldn’t heal, couldn’t defend. He couldn’t do anything except lay here, bleeding, in the dirt. Warmth oozed from the large, gaping laceration carved deeply into his abdomen, soaking into his already saturated clothes and slowly spreading in a growing puddle around him. Bile crawled up his throat, bubbling sourly with the blood pooling in his mouth.

The footsteps stilled, one of the forms shadowing over him. “Wait…” that same voice said, this time hesitant and curious. “You’re…Satoru Gojo…” His jaw clenched, alarm bells ringing loudly in his ears. Although, maybe that was just his own ears staging a mutiny the longer he allowed the blood to continue to spill from his body. A hand brushed aside his bangs, eliciting a flinch as fingers brushed against a swollen scrape on his temple. “What happened to you…?” He pulled away from her touch, or attempted to at least, only managing to smear his cheek into the bloodstained dirt. For a moment, everything was quiet, the hand pulling, blissfully, away from him. “Hey, Mimiko…Can you go get him? I think…he’d want to see this.”

Two. There were two of them. Maybe he wasn’t as far gone as he originally thought.

Wait…him…?

His lips parted, his throat working in an attempt to force air through it to speak, but only managing a gasping wheeze, blood bubbling from between his lips. The girl next to him crouched down, her cursed energy flickering around anxiously enough to feel like open fire against his eyes. A choked sob burst out from his aching chest, a fresh onslaught of tears washing down his grimy face. All of his senses were on high alert and yet couldn’t catch anything, only registering pain and misery.

He hadn’t even sabotaged himself this time…

“I don’t know if you can hear me…” the girl started, her voice quiet and yet the sound grated on his over-sensitized ears. “I don’t think you can cuz it looks like you’re hurt pretty badly…” She sighed, her finger scraping at the dirt at her feet. “I don’t know why you’re here, Gojo… But I won’t let you hurt him. He’s too important to be hurting again.”

Him? Who the hell was she talking about? He wasn’t even sure where he was or why he was here? He just knew that he couldn’t go back to the school…And this place felt safe.

“Nanako,” a new, deeper voice called, concern tinging his tone. Two more sets of footsteps approached at a jog, one light and nearly silent and the other heavier, but far more balanced, foregoing stealth in favor of speed. That voice tickled at some memories he kept under lock and key, the tension in his muscles easing subconsciously. Tears, of pain or relief he wasn’t sure, leaked from under his closed eyelids, rolling over the curve of his nose to spatter into the blood pooling below him. “Why did you need me to co-” The words cut off into a sharp intake of breath, those heavier footsteps freezing in place. “Satoru!”

Oh…He knew that voice, he knew that familiar caress of that voice calling his name.

He would know that voice even if he was delirious.

…He must be dead or in the process of being so if he was so delusional as to hear this voice.

The source of that voice dropped to his knees beside him, that same person gently turning him over. A faint whine slipped out from between lax lips, his head lolling against the arm bracing his shoulders. His eyelids fluttered, but refused to open, his body feeling so, so heavy. Voices buzzed in his ears, sharp, worried, but he only had mind for the hand that had come to rest so gently, so tenderly against his face. His breath, as shallow and weak as it was, hitched as it streamed out, a tear trickling down his cheek to pool against the fingers pressing against his frigid skin.

“Satoru…”

There was that voice again…maybe he really was dead.

That hand moved, carefully brushing the matted hair from his forehead. Honestly, if he were to die here…that wouldn’t be so bad. Even if it was just a delusion…he would be with Suguru for at least a little while longer. He dreamed this…sometimes, when sleeping off a bad mission where he played around a little too fast and loose with his barriers. It was the closest he got to being with him again and the more time he spent in his dreams, the more he wanted more.

He was so tired of hurting like this…

So lost in his spiraling thoughts, he missed when the hand moved, his skin now cold where it had rested, and an arm looped under his legs to haul him up against a sturdy chest. His head swam with the pain, his body slumping into those strong arms. A familiar cursed energy curled around him, his own fluttering weakly against it in greeting.

A feeling of safety, of comfort, closed over him…and he let himself go.

Chapter Text

Suguru rubbed idly at his temples, feeling them throb beneath the circling of his fingers, as he stared down at the paperwork in front of him. The white pages burned into his eyes, the words dancing across his vision in a dizzying swirl rather than staying in place. His curses buzzed under his skin, feeding off his restless energy and the residuals of his latest addition. Nausea churned deep in his gut, only driving his growing headache further until it felt as if a hot knife had embedded itself into his skull. Groaning, he pressed the heels of his hands against his aching eyes and ground down.

He knew that running this cult was going to be a lot of work… He’d just thought that the work would include more…’evolution’ and furthering of his goals and less paperwork. He’d hired an assistant to help him with that aspect after all… And yet, there was some paperwork that not even she could handle. So here he was, stuck at his desk while the hours ticked on without his presence.

His hands fell away from his face, dark eyes slitting open to glance at the clock. He still had a few hours until his next exorcism…and a few hours more until he had a meeting with a cult member, a simple money attracting monkey, who…well…wasn’t worth their presence anymore. There was always one or two of those type of meetings per day, enough to keep himself from thinking that his plan had stagnated entirely. He wasn’t sure what he’d do if he ever felt that it had…

Sighing softly, he ran a hand through his hair, the long strands gliding effortlessly through his fingers, and tried to shake the pessimistic thoughts from his head. Ever since he woke up this morning, Satoru’s name on his lips, the day had felt…strange. The air was laden with tension, a building storm that had yet to break overhead. He dreamed of Satoru frequently and it never failed to completely throw him off for the remainder of the day.

He would carve Satoru from him if he could… But he wasn’t sure that was even possible. If he tried, he doubted that he would even be the same person anymore.

He released a breath and pushed himself to his feet, head rolling forward. Clearly, he wasn’t going to be getting any work done today…so maybe he could spend some time with the girls rather than waste away at his desk thinking of what could have been rather than what was.

But as he moved to step away from his desk, the door to his office opened, a familiar dark head of hair poking inside as it always did before entering. A smile twitched on his lips. Old habits died hard, he supposed. Mimiko blinked when her gaze fell upon him, stepping fully inside without waiting for him to beckon to her. Her hands clasped in front of her, her fingers flexing and releasing at regular intervals. “Ah, Mr. Geto…Nanako sent me to come get you,” she said, still painfully formal when addressing him.

“Oh? Did you two find something?” he asked, one of his eyebrows drifting up towards his hairline. Mimiko glanced towards the door, one of her hands clutching her phone tightly. The charms dangled over her knuckles, the plastic clinking softly. His smile flattened at the edges, his shoulders tensing beneath his robes. “Mimiko?”

“We did find something… I think you should just come see…” Hesitation made itself evident in the halting way that she spoke, not helping the anxious churning of Suguru’s stomach. Drawing in a breath in an attempt to control the spike of alarm that demanded he rush over to where Nanako was, he nodded, moving calmly around his desk. His hands trembled at his sides, hidden carefully under the folds of his robes.

Had they been found?

If they had come for him…he wasn’t sure what he’d do…

Well, no, he did know one thing. He would kill anyone who tried to hurt his family and die protecting them if that’s what it took. He would not lose any more family. He refused.

His eyes closed with his next smile, folding his arms in front of him. “Well, let’s not keep your sister waiting then. Lead the way, Mimiko.” His voice remained steady, despite the high surge of panic he was only barely keeping at bay. Curses thrashed beneath his skin, biting at his thoughts and feelings like poison. His head throbbed in beat with his heart, which raced hard against his ribs. Mimiko nodded and, gripping the edge of the door with her hand, walked from the room, her pace fast, but not urgent. He kept his eyes on her, a frown tugging at at his lips. Surely she would run if something was truly amiss.

But even so…

The hallways blended together as they moved through them, a wash of colors that streamed over his peripheral vision, and people waved as they passed, a greeting he responded to only out of reflex. Vaguely, Suguru realized they were moving faster the further they moved through the building, their pace breaking into a jog the moment they reached the outdoors. The air was crisp, the spring breeze wafting through the courtyard stretched out before them. Flowers sprung from the carefully tended beds of soil, spots of color in an otherwise gray color scape.

His gaze locked briefly onto the blue flowers only just beginning to bloom, their ruffled petals unfolding outwards from their center to unveil the creamy white within. Swallowing hard, he refocused instead on where Mimiko was leading him, ignoring the way those flowers, the irises, stuck in his mind, the intermingling blue and white swirling through his thoughts.

Just another spring.

(The faint scent of flowers drifted through the air as they sped down the path, the wheels of the bike creaking dangerously under the weight of two teenage boys. Twin smiles, large and unburdened, stretched across their faces, just flashes in his memory.)

Suguru released a heavy breath, his eyes cinching closed for a brief moment, and forced the thought from his mind, stopping himself before he could tumble down that slippery slope of memory and regret. Not that he’d ever regret saving his girls, or trying to save this world from itself. No, he really only had one regret.

Okay, he really had to stop this train of thought before it could get worse.

“Nanako,” he called, finally noticing her crouching down beside another form near the entrance of the courtyard. She looked up as she approached, her lips twisted into a frown. Her dark eyes flicked from him to the form at her side, uncertainty and…worry rippling in her gaze. Worry? Worry for what? How unusual for her. He slowed his pace, his own lips curving into a frown. “Why did you need me to co-” His voice cut out when the person beside Nanako came into focus, the color washing entirely from his features.

…Just like the snow white hue of his hair.

“Satoru!” His name burst from his lips almost without his conscious awareness, his voice pitched high with fear.

Because there was no way that Satoru would be here. There was no way he’d let anybody this close unless something was so desperately wrong that he had no other options.

There was no way that he wouldn’t feel him before now unless something was wrong.

His feet moved unconsciously, his lungs burning as he broke out at a sprint to get to Satoru’s side. Nanako moved away as he approached, her eyes wide and her lips parting in her surprise. But he paid her no mind, his foot nearly slipping on blood as he skidded to a sudden stop. It rippled around the still form, spreading slowly as it soaked through into the spaces between the stone pathway. Suguru could see the streaking footprints making their way up to this point, crimson and gleaming in the bright sunlight and nauseating to even look at.

There was so much blood.

He hadn’t seen this much since the events with Toji, not from Satoru anyway.

Suguru collapsed to his knees beside Satoru, his heart lodging in his throat. Air trickled in thin streams down towards his lungs, panic tightening its grasp around his airway. His hands trembled as he reached out and, with as much gentleness as he could manage, rolled Satoru over, looping an arm around his shoulders to pull the limp form against him. His weight settled heavily against him, his head lolling in towards his elbow. A whine, so soft, so so pained, drifted up towards him, Suguru’s heart fracturing in his chest with what remained of his restraint. He slid his free hand against his cheek, tears stinging his eyes at the warmth of his skin against his own, at the way Satoru unconsciously tilted his head in towards his touch. His thumb ghosted over the hollow of his cheeks, taking in the way his skin draped like paper across his face, the way that circles shadowed his eyes despite the grime coating his features.

And yet, even now, he was still the most beautiful thing that Suguru had seen.  

“Satoru…” he breathed, his eyes wide and fraught with horror as he scanned him over.

Bruises bloomed across what skin was visible, dark against a blanket of pale flesh. One of his eyes was swollen nearly shut, the other matted closed with blood. Tears glittered like diamonds in his lashes, rolling in a slow stream along the contours of his face. Strips of white hair were plastered stiffly against his skin, stained crimson with the thin trickles of blood that streaked from his hairline. Thin, wheezing breaths escaped from between his lips, and Suguru could hear the way each exhale crackled in his lungs. Dark streaks spilled from the corners of his mouth, rolling down his jaw to smear against the hollow of his throat. One of his arms hung crookedly, spilling limply against the ground, while the other cradled his abdomen more brilliant stains caking against his palm.

And there was a deep laceration splitting down his abdomen, seeping more blood, more of Satoru’s life into the world around them.

Suguru sucked in a breath, feeling his lungs hitch and shudder with the movement. For a moment, all else fell away save for him and the man in his arms. There was no cult, there was no jujutsu society, there was no politics, no murder. There was just him and Satoru. As it always was.

As it always should have been.

And Satoru was dying.

His eyes squeezing shut, he pressed his lips together, the decision practically made before he could even make it. Removing the hand from Satoru’s lax features, he looped that arm under his knees and pulled him up against his chest, feeling almost giddy at the feel of him slotting against him as if he’d never left. But as he stood, all the muscle tension left Satoru’s thin form at once, sending his heart racing once again.

Clutching him tightly against him, he began moving back towards the compound, keeping his arms so very still so as to not jostle the form in his arms. The girls, now standing together, watched as he passed, identical expressions of uncertainty creasing their young faces. “Mr. Geto…?” Nanako asked, her fingers clutched tight around her phone.

“Come on, girls,” he said, his voice carefully even despite the fear, the panic slowly eating away at him from the inside. “We need to hurry.” They hesitated, for just a moment, before scrambling after him, shadowing his footsteps as they made their way back inside. Blood soaked into his robes, staining the patterns with dark swatches of crimson, until he felt it smear against his skin, sticky, and hot, and so wrong. He kept his eyes stubbornly ahead as he moved, refusing to acknowledge passing attendants and employees. Their shock barely registered on his radar.

If they had a problem with his decision, they could take it up with him.

After he ensured Satoru was safe and alive.

The twins opened the door to the bedroom for him, allowing him to slide inside without having to shift his burden. Shooting them a grateful smile as he moved towards the bed, he finally allowed his attention to focus on Satoru as he carefully laid him out onto the bedding. His head lolled against the pillow, white hair fanning out like a halo around his head. His skin, so very pale, gleamed like starlight beneath the blood smeared against it like a decoration. Suguru, his expression softening a fraction, carded gentle fingers through matted hair, watching the pain creasing Satoru’s features ease ever so slightly.

He lowered himself onto the edge of the mattress, reaching into his pocket for his phone. Without even looking, he dialed a number he knew by heart, holding it up to his ear as he continued running his fingers through the soft tangle of hair, fighting with the way his chest twisted as he watched Satoru.

This was so wrong…

Satoru…Satoru was dying, right in front of him, and the only thing Suguru could do was marvel at how soft his hair felt beneath his touch, how beautiful his skin looked under the light of his lamp, how the curve of his cheek fit his palm oh so perfectly.

The call connected after a few rings, an irritated “What?” huffed through the line in lieu of a greeting.

“Shoko…You need to get over here right away. Please.”

Chapter Text

“Huh…” Shoko hummed from around her cigarette, a dull, almost uninterested sound that Suguru on edge. Couldn’t she be bothered to show any emotion? Sure, he knew this was how she operated. It’d only been a few years since he left after all.  But here they were, Satoru barely clinging to life, and all she could manage was a single ‘huh’? He could practically hear Satoru weakening with each strained breath, with each beat of his heart. His hands curled into fists at his sides as he fought to control his ever thinning temper.

Shoko glanced at him and rolled her eyes with a hefted sigh, finally making her way towards the bed. “Oh, relax, would you? He’s not going to drop dead now that I’m here.” Dropping her bag, probably filled with her medical supplies, onto the bed, she cast her gaze over Satoru’s limp form. Her lips curled tighter around her cigarette, its tip glowing brightly at her slow inhale.

“How can you expect me to relax?” Suguru ground out, anger mounting more and more the longer she just stoodthere. Sure, he was never exactly slow to anger, but his tolerance for stupidity shrank every day he was subjected to the terrible world that humans had created, and today had been a rather trying day thus far. Plucking the cigarette from her lips, she blew out smoke before snuffing it out against her shoe with a rather mournful glance towards it. Choosing to ignore his question, she leaned over the bed to rest her fingers against Satoru’s throat. His head lolled to the side at her touch, but he did not stir. A wrinkle creased between Shoko’s brows, her lips pressing down at the edges subtly.

“Oi, Geto, help me with his shirt.” Her voice, as bored and apathetic as ever, made him jolt in place, his eyes widening. One, because despite her tone, there was a sense of urgency in the pace of her words and Shoko, by nature, was never urgent. And two…she called him Geto.

Honestly, he wasn’t sure why he was surprised by that. He was the one who left. These were simply the consequences to his actions, the sacrifices he had to make in order to give birth to his idealized world. He’d made his peace with that…

(Giggles echoing into an empty courtyard, the scent of smoke billowing into the air, the call of “Suguru” half choked out between peals of laughter into a fall afternoon.)

Releasing a breath, he forced an upward tilt of his lips, walking towards the other side of the bed as she began to undo the buttons of Satoru’s uniform jacket. “Can’t you heal him without undressing him?” he groused, already moving to brace Satoru’s limp form as she slid his jacket down his thin arms. Even as his words echoed into life in the room, he kept his gaze down and away from her. That wasn’t at all what he wanted to say here.

I’m sorry, was what he wanted to say.

I wish you could understand, was what he wanted to say.

I wish I could have stayed, was what he wanted to say.

But he couldn’t make the words leave his lips. Regret didn’t have a place in his life, but he still felt it all the same, the bitter knife of it stabbing deeply into his core. She shot him a sharp glance, her dark eyes etched with an understanding that left him feeling bare, as she pulled the dark cloth away. He didn’t meet her eyes, couldn’t make himself meet her eyes, not wanting to see that pity. So instead, he began unhooking the buttons on Satoru’s undershirt. Blood bloomed brilliantly against the white fabric, his fingers slipping on it the closer he grew to that large cut.

“I can, but I want to be able to see what I’m healing,” she said, pointedly choosing to answer what had actually left his lips rather than what he could feel unsaid in the air. Suguru grunted in response, peeling the saturated shirt away from Satoru’s torso, and froze, the color leeching from his features. Now that it was visible, the laceration appeared even worse than what he’d imagined, carving deeply into soft, pale flesh as it stretched across Satoru’s waist. Crusted blood clung to its edges, more freshly streaming down his sides and into the bedding. Mottled bruises bloomed across his rib cage, a section of it practically caved in. But despite all the visible damage, that wasn’t what stopped Suguru cold, not what made his heart stutter in his chest.

No…what had completely frozen him in place was the distinct outline of ribs against pale flesh, not skeletal (not yet anyway)…but apparent.

Satoru had always been lean, but his leanness had spoken of hard work, musculature toned and visible and…beautiful whenever Suguru had managed to catch him shirtless. Which was whenever he could manage it. But this…this thinness spoke of neglect.

(Just like his own body, thin and frail, reflected back at him in the mirror, the acrid scent of vomit thick in the air.)

Shoko noticed too, her eyebrows pressing down a fraction, but she just sighed, shoulders slumping, and reached forward, her cursed energy surging with the activation of her technique. Although all he wanted was to be relieved that they’d made it in time, her complete lack of a reaction to…to this set a fire just under his ribs, the angry flames licking at his every thought, his every emotion. His hands curled into trembling fists, his jaw clenching.

“Did you know about this?” he asked, his voice quiet, dangerous. Shoko glanced at him, her hands glowing faintly, and Suguru could see the huge laceration beginning to draw closed just outside his focus.

“I did,” she confirmed after a pause, her dark eyes flicking back to focus on her task. “But I hadn’t noticed it had gotten this bad.”

“And you didn’t do anything?” The words ripped from his throat in a growl. His chest felt tight, each breath feeling less productive than the last. His hands flexed, blood caked along his palms, and he barely restrained the urge to lash out, to feel her blood mingling with Satoru’s on his skin. It would only be fair…right? Blood as payment for blood spilled. Shoko, still not looking at him, frowned.

“And what could I have done, Geto? I already leave sweets everywhere for him. I can’t force him to eat.” Frustration breached past the apathy in her voice, her nose flaring with her next breath. Her lips pressed into a thin line, something angry, something helpless flickering in her eyes.

“And why can’t you? Just, I don’t know, have dinner with him!”

“We’re both busy, Geto, not that you’d know that. I do what I can, when I can.”  Sighing heavily, Shoko shook her head, her frown deepening. “You were the only one who could get Gojo to do anything…and I’m not you. I don’t even make an attempt to try to be you. I know that I can’t be the person he needs in his life. I make sure he eats when he ends up in the infirmary…but aside from that…I can’t do much.” She paused, her shoulders straightening, and leveled an iron cold stare at Suguru. “So direct that anger where it belongs, Geto.”

Suguru hesitated, her words echoing around in his head. The flames of his anger began to flicker, doused by the snapshot of their lives that he just wasn’t privy to anymore, doused by the heavy accusation directed at him with her bitter words. But most of all… “When he ends up in the infirmary?” he repeated, his lips numb. His eyes flickered back towards Satoru before snapping back towards Shoko. Surely, he’d misheard her. “How often has this been happening?” A part of him really didn’t want to know the answer. He didn’t want to acknowledge how much they’d been struggling alone…

Without him.

Shoko snorted, the sound empty of amusement, and rolled her eyes, slumping back towards the bed. The injury was nearly closed now, the skin knitting together seamlessly. There likely wouldn’t even be a scar. Suguru bit down on his lower lip, his hands uncurling limply at his sides. His robes scratched against his skin, the drying blood cracking in the saturated cloth. Shoko…her lack of surprise…her lack of any sort of worried response… How many other times had she healed him just like this, without even a scar to show for it? The air felt thin around him, a faint ringing beginning to drone in his ears.

“I don’t know why you’d care.” The bitterness in her voice felt like a slap to the face, well-deserved probably.

“Shoko…” he breathed. The anger, despite how tightly he tried to cling to it, finally fizzled out, guilt igniting in the embers of it to burn him out from the inside. It licked, like poison, beneath his skin, encroaching on every hollow, every crevice inside of him until he could feel it bubbling at the back of his throat, could taste it with each breath. He couldn’t tear his eyes away, fixated, as that laceration finally closed, leaving behind only smeared blood and a faint, shimmering indent that would likely fade within the next few days. He swallowed, unwilling to drag his gaze away to look up at Shoko. His throat felt like sandpaper, his mouth completely void of moisture. He wanted to deny her words, to tell her that he cared, he cared so much that it physically hurt sometimes. But it would feel like a lie leaving his lips after what he’d done. The blood drying on his hands felt tacky, sticky. Just like it had that night when everything had snapped so far out of his control, when he’d snapped so far out of control.

“How’d you think he’d react to you leaving? I know you have a brain in that head, even if it is completely insane.” Ah, so she’d escalated to blatant accusations now… His eyes cinched closed, feeling tears burn as they brimmed along his lashes.

It was a valid question.

What had he expected?

He wasn’t stupid enough to think that Satoru would just return to his normal life, return to acting exactly as he used to… They were far too intertwined for that. He’d known, just as well as he’d known it for himself, that his departure would hurt Satoru in a way that would leave some scarring… He’d expected that much.

He’d been hoping for it, if he was being honest.

(Standing on the sidewalk, bearing the brunt of Satoru’s anger. He expected hatred, welcomed it even. After all, it was nothing he hadn’t felt for himself already. Maybe Satoru would have the guts that he didn’t have and do what needed to be done…)

But this…

He felt sick to his stomach. He wanted to crawl out of his own skin and sink into the depths of the Earth, to be somewhere, anywhere, where he didn’t have to be faced with this.

(All of this was for them. Didn’t they see that?)

Drawing in a breath, he looked back towards Shoko, noticing a subtle clench to her jaw. Sweat trickled from her hairline. She looked tired… He’d noticed it when she’d walked in, but now he could truly see just how tired she was. Deep, purpling bags hung heavily beneath her eyes, practically stained in place against pallid skin. Her hair had grown longer since he’d last seen her, the brown locks now brushing past her shoulders, but the strands, dry and brittle as they were, frizzed at the ends. Nicotine stained at her fingertips, the yellowing of her nail beds evident even through the glow of her technique.

The years had not been kind to her…just like they hadn’t been kind to him…or Satoru.

“You looking at me like that does nothing to change my mind, y’know,” she said dryly, moving up towards the crooked set of ribs. “The kicked puppy look used to work…but not when you have blood on those robes still.”

Suguru glanced down towards the drying swatch of blood smeared across the front of his “monk” robes. It, by far, was not the first time that he’d seen them stained like this, but it was the first time that the rusted brown leeching across the green and gold patterns made his stomach turn; it was the first time he looked at the stain and saw blood, real and vivid, and not something less than human. Reaching up, he gripped at the fabric, feeling it stiffly bend in his grasp, and tugged, as if to rip it off entirely. But his arm froze in that position.

“It’s Satoru’s…” he murmured, as if that would absolve him of any and all crimes. He knew it wouldn’t and honestly, he really didn’t care about that, but he still felt as if he had to defend himself.

He couldn’t have Satoru’s blood mixed with that of those monkeys.

His lip curled at the thought, his grip tightening on the front of his robes.

“Mhm…sure,” Shoko hummed dismissively and not without judgement. Sweat now beaded down her face, but her hands never faltered, her technique never flickered. It never had before and Suguru didn’t expect for it to happen now, not after she’d had years to hone her skills.

After everything, she was still, by far, the steadiest out of the three of them.

“I’m not talking to you about this, Shoko,” he said, firmly shutting down any further conversation on the topic. His fingers uncurled from his robes, the joints creaking as they moved from the tight lock they’d held around the stained fabric.

A faint smile flickered at the edges of Shoko’s lips, her hair spilling into her face with a single shake of her head. But she respected his wishes, no further argument escaping her. Her cursed energy swirled thick in the air, the taste of it like sunshine on his tongue as it soothed back the bitter bile that he could almost always taste in the back of his throat. The tension in his shoulders eased, a slow breath streaming from between his lips. His gaze flicked back to Satoru, relief leeching into that hollow, bitter hole in his chest at the life beginning to seep into those fair features.

Suguru perched himself onto the edge of the bed, his hand reaching out to thread his fingers into those soft locks of pale hair. A nearly inaudible noise escaped Satoru’s throat, his head tipping into Suguru’s touch. He wasn’t awake still, he could tell that much, but this was far more of a response than he’d gotten thus far. His eyes softened, his hand trailing down to brush his knuckles against Satoru’s grimy cheek, marveling at how soft the skin was, at how it practically glowed in the light.

(He remembered a moment very similar to this, in the dark of a dorm room, where Satoru’s skin glowed in the moonlight. So unguarded, so defenseless. Only he was able to see something like this, only him.)

Drawing his hand back suddenly, he closed his eyes. “How’d he know to come here…Why did he come here?” The phantom feel of Satoru’s skin burned like a brand. This wasn’t his job anymore. This was what he’d given up when he left.

Shoko rolled her eyes, huffing. “C’mon… I know you’re not that stupid, Geto. Something neutralized his technique as I’m sure you noticed.” He stared blankly at her, his eyebrows drawing together. He had noticed that, but he couldn’t see why that was relevant. Meeting his gaze for a solid moment, she groaned, her head rolling back against her shoulders. “Oh my god, you are that dense. Inifinity was off.”

Infinity was off?

He didn’t see why that would be a problem… Sure, Satoru still had that bounty on his head and the higher ups weren’t—

“Oh.”

Shoko huffed out a laugh, seeing the realization flicker across his expression. “Yea, oh. Moron.”

Anger, reigniting as fast as it’d sizzled out, surged, fueled by mounting horror and fear. But he tamped it out fast, the tension in his jaw the only evidence of its occurrence. After everything that’d happened, after what Satoru had become, he still had to deal with all this. “They’re still after him?”

“I don’t know why you think they’d stop. It has gotten better, if that’s what you’re asking. I’m under the impression that there’s a threat of mutually assured destruction that keeps the peace, but Gojo usually doesn’t go into it much. But, with his defenses down…” She trailed off, lips twisting. His hands curled into fists in his lap, his dark eyes practically burning with hatred.

(A flicker of doubt weaseled into his thoughts. He was doing this for all sorcerers…but what if the sorcerers were part of the problem? Would Satoru still suffer if all curses were removed from the equation?)

Her hands lowered, her energy finally leeching from the air. Shoulders slumping forward, Shoko dug through her pockets for a pack of cigarettes. “Alright, that should do it for right now… So…wanna join me outside for a moment?” she asked, shaking the pack. He bit his lip, his eyes falling back onto Satoru. Drying blood was spattered across his pale form, but each breath now flowed easily from one into the next, the pain creasing his expression finally smoothing. Snowy lashes fanned out against sallow cheeks, his lips parted gently to allow air to pass through.

(So beautiful. So perfect. Suguru wanted to frame him and keep him on the wall as a work of art.)

“But…shouldn’t we stay with him?” With another irritated roll of her eyes, Shoko waved him off, already making her way towards the door.

“He’ll be out for a while. He needs time to reset that dumb brain of his.” She paused, glancing back towards Suguru. Her dark eyes, flickering with a hidden longing, a hidden loneliness, locked onto his for a brief moment. “We’ve got time, Geto.”

Releasing a breath, he pushed himself off the bed, a small smile ghosting across his face. “Alright. Just one though, alright?”

She smiled, full and real, not half hidden at the edges of her lips.

“Deal.”

Chapter Text

The mood felt so much lighter when they entered the room once again, the scent of smoke clinging to their clothes and laughter ringing in the space between them. Shoko actually smiled at him, one of her hands obscuring her mouth, as she followed him inside, her other hand shoved deep into her pocket. Suguru couldn’t help but mark that as a victory. “-no idea how to even crack an egg. He almost burned the whole place down,” Shoko said in between giggles, the skin around her eyes crinkling.

“Oh my god,” Suguru laughed, slapping a hand over his face. “He was always so hopeless when it came to cooking. Who even let him be responsible for children in the first place?”

“None of us. He just…got them and then asked all of us for help when he had no idea what he was doing, in typical Gojo fashion.” Suguru snorted, his hand now covering the grin practically splitting his features, as he closed the door behind them.

“Yea, that sounds like Satoru alright… Acting first and then asking for forgiveness later.”

“And then immediately getting it because he’s Satoru Gojo,” Shoko finished the joke, her hand finally dropping to reveal the twitching grin on her face. He shot her a similar grin, clinging to the familiarity in their conversation.

For a moment, he could almost make himself believe that they were back in the school’s courtyard, indulging in a fantasy that he knew he could never have.

He’d missed this, missed her.

His smile faded as his gaze fell from Shoko towards the bed, Satoru still resting peacefully on as if nothing had happened in the first place. Golden sunlight streaked into the room from the windows, splashing brilliantly onto his form. It highlighted every curve of his face, glowed in the fair hue of his unruly hair, warmed the pale hues of his skin with a golden dust. Suguru felt as if his breath had been ripped directly from his lungs, unable to stop the adoration from surging so strongly that he was rendered still for a moment. He wanted to go over there, to brush the hair from where it spilled across his forehead, to run his thumb along those delicate cheekbones, to trace the gentle curve of his lips. His hands twitched at his sides, but he held stubbornly back, still feeling the blood clinging like a phantom to his palms.

This wasn’t his place anymore.

Satoru probably wanted nothing to do with him anymore.

Shoko groaned, pushing past him with a shove that definitely had more force than necessary. “Oh good, the pining is back,” she muttered. “Definitely did not miss that.” She plopped into a sitting position on the edge of the mattress, running hands made gentle by experience over the bumps of Satoru’s ribcage. Her lips twisted into a concentrated frown, her brows pressing low over her perceptive gaze as it scanned over Satoru’s form.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” His arms crossed over his chest, a scowl slashing deeply across his features. His dark eyes flicked from Shoko to Satoru and back again, observing her as her hands slid down towards Satoru’s navel to skim her fingers over the thin line of scarring. Blood, now browning as it dried, flaked onto the bedding, jostled by her touch. Unblemished skin glowed in the sunlight, freshly revealed by the clearing blood.

“Oh, nothing, oh powerful cult leader,” Shoko snarked, pausing momentarily as she moved towards Satoru’s injured arm. Her hand hovered over it, but did not dip closer. It trembled in the air, straining, testing, but ultimately never reached its goal. Shoko released a breath, her hand dropping instead into her lap. “Looks like Infinity is back on. That’s good.”

Suguru’s shoulders slumped ever so slightly with relief, a sigh streaming from between his lips. Infinity hadn’t been a barrier between him and Satoru in a long time. If he were to reach out now…would his hand be stopped? Or would he forever remain an exception to the otherwise impenetrable wall placed between Satoru and the world? A part of him would rather not find out, content with observing Shoko’s examination.

He’d left them. And as much as he wanted to be with them (and only them), he had no desire to re-enter their world.

To be forced to protect those who were so far beneath him that they were less than human.

He would create a new world instead. A safer one, for all of them, no matter how many monkeys he had to kill to do it. He would bathe in blood if it meant keeping them safe.

However…the part of him that longed still for the old days, as decaying and broken as that part was, still flooded him with memories that ached with longing and stung with regret.

“Listen, Geto…” Shoko began, her teeth toying at the fraying skin of her lower lip. Suguru stiffened at her tone, hesitant and serious. Shoko, as a principle, dealt primarily in sarcasm and annoyance and kept all serious topics at arm’s length. Her method of coping, more than likely. His eyes snapped towards her from where he’d been drinking in Satoru’s form. Her bangs curtained over her face, spilling over one of her eyes, but she made no move to brush it back. Fingers plucking at a loose string on her skirt, she hesitated for a long moment before sighing, pushing herself to her feet. “I know I like to give you a hard time…but I need to apologize to you.”

Suguru blinked, his eyebrows furrowing. His mouth fell open and clicked shut a few times, before he could gather his thoughts enough to speak. “Apologize? For what?”

A faint, bitter smile ghosted across Shoko’s lips. “Way too much actually… I was there during your last year at the school and I noticed you spiraling and did nothing.” Suguru’s eyes widened, his lungs contracting to force all the air from his body. His hands trembled, hidden by the folds of his robes, and the world tunneled until all he could see was Shoko staring at him, regret laced deep in her gaze.

“Shoko…I…” he breathed, only to be cut off by Shoko lifting a single hand.

“No, please let me finish, Geto. I noticed you were struggling and that Gojo wasn’t there to see it, and all I did was offer smoke breaks and watch you withdraw further into yourself. I could have done something. I could have offered to talk about something serious for once.” Her shoulders slumped, her hands falling lax at her sides. “It might have pulled you back to us…”

Suguru took a step forward, his gaze soft. The shock faded as her words settled into his thoughts and he felt as if he could breathe again. “Shoko…what happened was not your fault,” he said, his voice firm, but tempered with kindness. “The way I was, I doubted I would have taken you up on any offers to talk. I don’t blame you, just like I don’t blame Satoru.” He glanced away, his hands clenching into fists as anger twisted the soft curve of his smile. “The only ones I blame are the damned curses and the monkeys who create them. If it wasn’t for them, then-”

“I blame the school,” Shoko interrupted, the regret on her expression melting into a righteous fury, flicking in the back of her dark eyes. He paused, mouth hanging open, and looked back towards her. “I blame the school and this damned jujutsu society. They use children as…fucking soldiers against a war we can’t win and don’t give anyone a proper support network. If we had even one goddamn therapist, or a proper leave system, then maybe things wouldn’t be so bad. But no. They’d rather continue on as they have been, with this world balanced on the backs of children.”

“But if we could win this war…” Shoko rolled her eyes, the corner of her lips tilting into a scowl.

“We can’t, Geto. You’re only deluding yourself into thinking that we can. Your plan? It’s genocide, plain and simple. If having this plan makes you feel better, fine. But stop fooling yourself into thinking it’ll actually work.”

Suguru could only stare at her, mouth hanging open, as she flayed open his thoughts and plans with a ruthlessness he knew she was capable of, but had never truly seen. Her gaze bored directly into the depths of his soul, the steel in her expression enough to rattle him to the core. After a few moments, she sighed and turned away.

“Look, I’m not telling you to come back. If you don’t want to come back, I don’t blame you. If you want to keep killing people, keep doing that. I won’t stop you. All I wanted to do was apologize for not being there when you needed me.” She snagged her back up from where it rested on the bed, hooking it over her shoulder, and without another word, began making her way towards the door.

Desperation surging, he snagged her arm with a shaking hand, fingers curling gently around her bicep. “Wait, are you leaving?” he asked, his voice rasping and weak. Shoko hummed, tugging her arm from his grasp.

“Yea. Gojo can defend himself now, so I don’t need to stick around.”

“He can— You’re going to leave him here?!” Panic set his heart racing against his ribs, his chest heaving as if he’d run a marathon. Shoko’s hand curled around the doorknob, her back stiff.

“Do you want me to take him?”

“I…” He suddenly found he didn’t have an answer for her question, his whole world turned completely on its head from this whole conversation. She tilted her head towards him, a small smile flecking the corners of her lips.

She turned the doorknob.

“You two need to talk and this is me forcing the issue. You’re welcome.”

Swinging open the door, she walked out, brown hair fluttering behind her. He stared after her, the floor feeling unsteady beneath him, until the door clicked shut in his face. Feeling as if someone had punched him in the gut, he turned slowly towards the bed, towards where Satoru rested, perfect and beautiful and so out of his reach.

Shit.

JJKJJK

“Are you here to take Mr. Geto away?” a young voice, trembling ever so slightly, stopped Shoko as the door to the bedroom closed behind her. Blinking, her gaze dropped to the two girls, standing huddled together in the shadows of the hallway. Her brows furrowed, her lips turning down towards the corners. One of her hands gripped at the bag slung over her shoulder, watching the girls shrink back at the movement. One of them, the one with hair the color of gold, glared at her, fear reflected in the recesses of those dark eyes.

Oh, that was right… Geto had taken in twin girls…right before massacring a whole village. And honestly…she could see why he’d snapped like he did that night.

Shoko glanced over them quickly, noting the tight grip they had on each other, the flicking eyes, as if assessing every possible escape route, their shifting weight… Trauma. There was trauma in what she saw here… Two years after being removed from what had caused it, and the trauma was still this evident. She honestly didn’t want to know the details of what had happened, the evidence spoke loud enough for her to surmise just what had occurred. And yet…their hair was well-groomed, cut and styled nicely. Their skin was a healthy color with no visible bruises or outline of skeletal structure. And although they were clearly scared of her…they stood firm against her, not willing to back down.

A smile flickered across Shoko’s face, her shoulders relaxing with her next exhale.

“No, I’m not. Don’t worry,” she reassured, slowly, carefully sliding her hands towards her front, where they’d be visible to the girls. Twin sets of eyes shot towards the movement, their muscles tensing simultaneously. The darker haired girl gripped hard at her sister’s hand. Shoko kept a smile fixed on her face, her head tilting disarmingly towards the side. “Mr. Geto called me for a favor and because we’re good friends, I came over to help.”

“Mr. Geto never mentions you.” Shoko suppressed a wince, her lips flattening at the edges. Ouch. Fuck you too, Geto.But, a faint memory, of shared laughter and lighthearted storytelling, bubbled in her thoughts, easing some of the sudden bitterness that single sentence had brought. Geto was Geto… He loved hiding from his own feelings as much as Gojo did, but that never meant he cared any less. Not that he showed it very well… “So how do we know you’re not lying?” Sighing softly, she crouched down to their level, her gaze steady as it flicked from one girl to the other.

“Well, what has Mr. Geto told you?” The girls exchanged glances, shuffling back several steps. But they hadn’t run yet, which meant they weren’t that scared of her. Or that they were more interested in protecting Geto from her. Either way, good.

“Just that sorcerers from Jujutsu High are dangerous,” the dark haired girl supplied, her voice smaller, smaller than her sister’s “And that if they show up…then Mr. Geto would have to leave…” She trailed off, fixing wide eyes onto Shoko. Tears clumped in her lashes, welling in thick swells along her lower eyelid. “Please don’t make Mr. Geto leave, Miss Sorcerer… He’s all we have.”

Oh… Shoko’s heart clenched at the soft, earnest plea.

Geto…really was something else.

Here he was…building a family to replace the one he’d lost and all she and Gojo were doing was mourning his departure, two years after the fact.

“Mimiko!” the lighter haired girl admonished sharply, tugging on their linked hands. Mimiko stumbled into her sister, burying her face into her shoulder. They were both trembling now, panic streaking across twin pale features.

“Mimiko? That’s a really nice name… Mine is Shoko,” Shoko said, tucking her arms against her stomach as she leaned forward ever so slightly. “But don’t worry. I’m not going to make Mr. Geto leave. The school doesn’t even know I’m here…so that’ll be our little secret, okay?” Holding a finger up to her lips, she winked, a sly smile visible around the curve of her hand. Dark eyes gleamed as they peeked up at her, studying her closely. The trembling slowed bit by bit, Mimiko slowly detaching herself from her sister.

“Okay…If you say so…” The words, spoken hesitantly, betrayed the hint of trust, of belief, that Mimiko held for her.

Okay…that was one of them… Now for—

“And what about Satoru Gojo?!” her sister shot in, her free hand curled into a tight fist at her side. Shoko didn’t need Gojo’s six eyes to see the volatile cursed energy swirling in the air, acrid, dangerous, scared.

These poor girls…

“And what’s your name?” Shoko asked after a steadying breath. All she received was a glare as a response, the air practically snapping around them. Lifting an unimpressed eyebrow, she moved to sit down on the floor, folding her legs neatly in front of her. “I told you my name. It’s only fair that you give me yours. And then I’ll answer your questions, okay?” More silence, that glare darkening more the longer the silence lasted.

Mimiko tugged gently on her sister’s hand, her lips twisting into a small frown. “C’mon…she doesn’t seem like a bad person… And Mr. Geto seems to trust her…” The sister’s eyes narrowed, her face pinching with fury, before she huffed and turned away, dropping her sister’s hand to cross both arms over her chest.

“It’s Nanako,” Nanako stated bluntly, anger evident in the grind of her voice. Shoko smiled, sliding both of her hands onto her knees. Oh, she liked the spine on this one. Scowling, Nanako shot her a glare over her shoulder. “Now tell us about Gojo, like you promised.”

Shoko laughed, her head tilting back as a hand came up to cover her mouth. Those flushed cheeks and defiant eyes... How adorable! “Alright, alright,” she hiccuped, noticing the threat biting in Nanako’s dark eyes. “I’ll tell you about Gojo. He’s Mr. Geto’s best friend. They were very very close until a few years ago and they had a bit of a falling out. But…between me and you…I think they both still really care about each other. They’re both just a little…stupid about it.”

“Mr. Geto is not stupid!” Nanako argued, stomping one of her feet.

“No, no, he is… He’s just pretty good at hiding it,” Shoko said, a smile spreading across her face. She was arguing with a child…This was a new low, even for her. Nanako pouted, her lower lip curling visibly.

“I think you’re just mean. I don’t like you.”

“That’s alright. You don’t have to like me.”

“I don’t like Gojo either.”

One of Shoko’s eyebrows drifted up towards her hairline, her eyes flicking back towards the closed door lingering behind her. She hadn’t heard any noise from inside yet, so she doubted Gojo was awake yet. “And why is that, Nanako?”

“He made Mr. Geto sad!” Behind her sister, Mimiko nodded in agreement, her brows pinched together and her lips pressed into a thin line. “Mr. Geto gets really sad sometimes when he looks at a picture of him and Mr. Geto shouldn’t be sad! Gojo was just mean for leaving him!” Shoko’s nose flared with her next steadying exhale, her eyes glancing up towards the ceiling.

Geto…you magnificent idiot…

“I think…that they just really miss each other. Don’t you want Mr. Geto to be happy again?” Shoko’s voice was steady and she’d never admit to the amount of energy and patience it took to maintain that tone. She was not made to handle children. The twins paused and glanced at each other, their frowns easing ever so slightly.

“We do…” Mimiko said, her teeth worrying at her lower lip. “But Gojo will take Mr. Geto away…won’t he?” Shoko nearly smiled at the uncertainty she heard in her voice, the tension draining from her shoulders.

“No. Gojo won’t take Mr. Geto away. He never wanted him to leave in the first place…” Shoko glanced towards the door once again, the smile fading from her lips. The wild eyes aimed at her as she closed the door still lingered in the back of her thoughts, the image at such a dissonance with what her mental image of Geto that it left her feeling unsettled. Maybe leaving them alone hadn’t been the right call… But honestly, with these two, there was no way to be sure… The girls shifted nervously before her, adding another piece to the puzzle that she hadn’t truly considered until now.

Geto hadn’t left only because of his own plans. He left to protect the girls he’d taken in as his own.

Sighing again, Shoko leaned back, bracing her weight on her arms. This was a whole mess…

But oh well, they’d figure it out.

Hopefully.

Chapter Text

Crisp summer air billowed through the rustling trees, bringing with it the dry scent of wood and the subtly sweet scent of flowers from a nearby field. Sunlight speckled the ground from in between branches of the canopy overhead, lighting the path with a gentle glow. The day was warm, especially for early summer, but with the gentle breeze, the heat never lingered in one place for long.

Tires screeched along the dirt path, followed quickly by the muffled thud of Satoru hitting the ground. Dirt plumed up from his point of impact and the bike, still tangled in his legs, nearly toppled over him. He grunted, the air knocked from his lungs, and coughed at the dust speckling his face. For a moment, all was silent, save for the gentle bustle of the forest around them. And then…

Laughter.

Bright, beautiful laughter, open and loud and completely unapologetic.

Satoru, lifting his arm from where it had been thrown over his eyes, looked up towards where Suguru hovered over him, watching the way the sun glowed gold along his skin, the way his cheeks flushed, the way tears beaded at the corners of his closed eyes. His white button-up shirt was bunched at the elbows, the first few buttons undone around the collar, and most of it was messily tucked in, the fabric somewhat loose around his waist. Dark hair was tied up in a bun, a strand hanging freely in front of his face as always. It fluttered in the breeze, tickling at his nose, wrinkled as it was with his laughter.

Beautiful. As always, Suguru was so effortlessly beautiful, even when disheveled like this.

“I-I can’t believe you can’t ride a bike, Satoru,” Suguru choked out, clutching at his stomach. The adoration practically glowing just under his ribs soured instantly. Nevermind. He was an asshole. A complete and total asshole. “The strongest sorcerer of our age…and you can’t even balance on a bike…” Each breath wheezed desperately as another fit of laughter overtook him. What had been a gentle blush along his cheeks initially now brightened to a vibrant red. Satoru was starting to get concerned at the hue. “Maybe…maybe we should have rented the one with training wheels instead.”

Satoru pouted, crossing his arms over his chest and kicking the bike out from his legs. It toppled over towards the other side, crunching in a somewhat concerning manner. Not that he cared much for that. “Yea, so I don’t know how to ride a bike. You never asked if I could, asshole,” he retorted, a flush darkening his own cheeks. His eyes skirted towards the side, avoiding Suguru as the asshole once again started giggling helplessly.  

Sure, he hadn’t exactly tried to actually ride the bike properly, but that was beside the point…  

“You were the-the one who said we should rent the bike,” Suguru hiccuped, wiping at the tears smeared around his eyes. Satoru flushed brighter. He should not sound that hot when hiccuping. This was so not fair.

“Yea, well, I thought you were going to ride the bike…and there’d be a lot more waist holding involved,” he muttered, feeling his ears heat up as he hauled himself into a sitting position. The helpless giggles tapered off into breathless panting, only interrupted every now and then by those adorable, stupidly attractive hiccups. Soft footsteps heralded a shadow falling over him, blocking out the bright sun.

“You wanted to hold my waist, huh?” Suguru murmured, his voice low, gravelly, interested. A shiver cascaded down his spine at the soft brush of his words, the sound so warm, so hypnotizing as it seeped into his head. Swallowing, Satoru risked a glance up only to be pinned in place by the hot, nearly liquid stare boring into his own. Sucking in a breath through slightly parted lips, his crossed arms loosened, hands falling limply into his lap. Heat flooded his face at the proximity of Suguru’s, their noses practically brushing. A pathetic, hoarse whine escaped his throat against his will and it was a sound he would deny making to his dying day.

His brain just stopped working whenever Suguru got this close.

Suguru snorted, a breathy sound that made his nose scrunch, and a smirk tugged crookedly at his lips. Satoru’s eyes flicked down towards them, tracing the slope of the soft skin, memorizing that subtly pink hue. As if the six eyes would ever let him forget it. His heart pounded against his ribs hard enough to convince him that it was trying to break its confines and pass the distance between them.

All Suguru had to do was ask anyway. He would freely give it.

“I…That may have been my intention, yes,” he confirmed hoarsely after a frankly embarrassing amount of time. That damned smirk only grew. Fuck, he wanted to wipe that smirk off his face… The wind tousled Suguru’s hair, his bangs brushing lightly against Satoru’s cheek. It tickled, the strands so soft against his flushed face. Was the air suddenly thin here? Or were his lungs committing mutiny too? “But you ruined my amazing plan by making me ride the bike.”  

“Oh, but you rented the bike, Satoru. How was I supposed to know you couldn’t ride one on your own?” There was laughter concealed in his words, a sly glint in his gaze. His eyes narrowing suspiciously, Satoru scowled.

“I think you knew I didn’t know how to ride. You just wanted to see me fail. Asshole.”

“Mm…Maybe I had a feeling. But it’s always so…nice watching the perfect Satoru Gojo fail,” he whispered before leaning over, planting his arms on either side of Satoru to cage him in, until his lips rested by his ear. The scent of sandalwood enveloped Satoru’s senses, his chest hitching with each inhale of that intoxicating aroma. Hot breath fanned against his ear, goosebumps pebbling down his body as he shivered. “You look so…human…when you fail.”

“And what if you’d been wrong?” he heard himself say, barely conscious of anything aside from Suguru’s warmth sinking slowly into his body. Suguru chuckled, a throaty noise that set his whole body buzzing, and hands, hot and firm, grasped around his hips. Satoru jolted, his entire point of focus centering on the sparks of touch that surged throughout his very soul.

“Then I would have been able to hold you around the waist.”

Satoru was overwhelmed, the feel of Suguru’s breath against his skin, the warmth of his touch, his scent. He couldn’t take it anymore.

Wrapping his hands around Suguru’s arms, he tugged him forward, causing him to topple forward into his lap. Suguru grunted, adjusting himself so both his knees were planted on either side of Satoru’s waist, and pulled himself more upright, hovering just over Satoru. His dark eyes, so warm and brown, locked back onto Satoru’s own bright blue. A flush darkened his face once again, brought about by their proximity this time rather than by exertion, but it was just as beautiful as it glowed on the tanned hue. Satoru, his throat bobbing in a swallow, reached up to rest a hand on Suguru’s cheek, a thumb brushing over the reddened skin. It was so soft under his touch, the faint residue of tears from his earlier laughter sticky beneath the pads of his fingers. Suguru leaned into his touch, a faint sigh slipping from his lips.

For a moment, all they did was stare at each other, silence falling thickly between them.

Without warning, Satoru lurched forward to press his lips to Suguru’s, still unprepared for it despite how many times they’ve kissed. His fingers stiffened against Suguru’s cheek, heat sparking along each of his nerves at the soft touch of lips against his own. Not chapped anymore, thank god. Suguru had listened to him in regards to that at least. Breathing a soft whine into the kiss, Satoru tilted his head to slot their mouths together more comfortably. Suguru’s fingers dug into his skin, pulling Satoru even closer somehow.

They were both panting when they separated, dark flushes glowing along both their faces. Satoru’s eyes glanced down, a smile flickering across his face at the sight of Suguru’s reddened, slightly swollen lips. Tracing his gaze upwards, he followed dark strands of loose hair that had been newly pulled from that immaculate bun, fluttering in a loose frame around his face. Heat pooled in those dark eyes that followed his every move, only a small sliver of brown visible around the dilated pupil.

Satoru wanted to kiss him again.

“If you had just wanted to make out…we didn’t have to leave the dorms today, y’know,” Suguru rasped, a smile tugging at his lips. Huffing, Satoru shoved him off his lap with an aggravated roll of his eyes. Catching himself before he could topple into the dirt, Suguru laughed.

“You were the one who wanted to take me to that river nearby, remember?” he retorted, hauling himself to his feet with a groan. Dust caked in the creases of his pants, stubbornly embedding itself in the cloth despite his attempts to brush himself off. Ah, dammit. Hopefully it would come out in the wash. Otherwise, this was another pair of pants ruined. Yoga might just kill him if he wrecked another uniform, especially on a day off. Sighing heavily, he looked back towards Suguru, pausing at the soft smile aimed his way. He lifted a brow, willfully ignoring the heat trying to flood his face once again. “Well, I think that’s the end of these pants. We should at least make the trip worth it before Yaga decides to kill me.”

Suguru snorted, his smile widening, and he stood. “I will speak poetry at your funeral,” he promised, so sincerely Satoru almost missed that he was joking. Making his way over to the bike, Suguru leaned over to grasp the handlebars and pulled it up onto its wheels again.

“Uh, no. I want you to recite badly written pornography at my funeral. Y’know, really make sure to kill the old fossils who will attend.” Suguru choked and glanced sharply towards him, amusement crinkling around his eyes.  

“True, gotta make sure you take other people out because of your death,” Suguru agreed, his voice strained with barely contained laughter. Satoru blinked, his lips pursing as a thought surfaced through the flustered amusement.

Hm…

“Would you?” he asked, suddenly desperate to know that answer. Why? He wasn’t entirely sure. Maybe…maybe he just wanted to know if Suguru felt that same soul deep need to just…be with him. Suguru pushed forward on the bike, testing its mobility after its tumble, and didn’t answer for a moment.

“Would I what?”

“Die with me.”

“Well…I certainly can’t see myself living without you,” Suguru responded, a small, wry smile flickering across his face. He swung a leg over the bike to position himself on the seat, one of his feet balancing against a pedal. Dark hair fluttering about his features with the breeze, he beckoned Satoru over with a tilt of his head. “But enough of talking about dying. Get on, Satoru. We’re burning daylight.”

A bright smile blooming onto his face, he raced over, flinging himself onto the small shelf over the back wheel. Hopefully it was meant for an additional passenger… He hadn’t exactly asked the nice person he rented the bike from. It squeaked alarmingly beneath his weight, but it held. So oh well. If it broke, he’d pay for it. No big deal. The bike tipped with his momentum, Suguru yelping in surprise as he worked to right them both. Satoru glanced at the cords of muscles straining just beneath that tanned skin, his teeth closing down on his lower lip.

Suguru tilted his head to glance back at him, a smile tugging at his lips. “You all set back there?” Satoru straightened, his grin sharpening.  

“Ah! Not yet!” Scooting forward, he slid his arms around Suguru’s waist, settling his weight against him. Feeling the muscles tense under his touch, he hid a smirk against Suguru’s shoulder. “There,” he said, amusement bright in his tone. “Now I’m ready.”

Suguru’s grip tightened around the handlebars, knuckles bleached white against his skin. “Alright then,” he managed, voice strained.

His grin only widening, Satoru opened his mouth to snark at him when Suguru pushed off, starting the bike forward. Sucking in a breath, he tightened his grip around Suguru’s waist as his balance tipped. Laughter rumbled from the form he was, almost desperately, clinging to, a sound he most definitely ignored. Their progress was wobbly at first, but soon Suguru sped down the path, the trees a blur in the periphery.

As their ride smoothed out, Satoru loosened his grip around Suguru and leaned back onto the seat. His eyes, wide behind his glasses, gazed out at their surroundings, a broad smile quickly splitting his face. The wind whipped his hair back and off his forehead, carrying with it a glimpse of the summer heat that had yet to arrive. The sun shone brightly through the blur of trees that sped past them as they rode through, breaking out of the forest pathway and onto a wider road. The dry scent of wood was bleeding away to the damper scents of a riverbed. Casting his gaze upwards, he followed the clouds that drifted through that bright blue sky, one that promised an eternity.

Laughing, he flung an arm outward to feel the wind rush through his fingers, balancing his weight against Suguru so as not to fall over. The sound of his own laughter was ripped away by the currents around them, blowing behind him like a trail. Turning back forward, he found Suguru looking at him, his lips curved ever so slightly. Grinning wider, he wrapped his arms around Suguru’s waist once again, legs kicking out in his excitement. Suguru laughed, head tilting to the side as he turned back to face their path.

Satoru’s smile softened at the sound of Suguru’s laughter, affection welling hot in his chest. Scooting forward, he rested his chin on Suguru’s shoulder, a contented sigh streaming from his lips.  

If there were ever a moment he wanted to last forever, this would be the one he’d want.

“Y’know…I think I would also die if you were to die, Suguru. Can’t see myself living without you either,” he mused. Suguru glanced at him, huffing out a quiet laugh, and shook his head.

“What did I say about talk of dying, Satoru?”

Satoru hummed, just tightening his grip around him.

And if his hands crept lower towards the waistline of Suguru’s pants, which lead to a rather dramatic crash after Suguru practically leapt out of his skin, then well, he supposed that was only meant to happen anyway.

“Satoru!” A scandalized tone, but peppered with underlying laughter.

“Satoru!” That same voice, older, and heavy with worry, in a way that he thought he’d never hear again.

Satoru’s eyes fluttered open.

Chapter Text

Satoru drew in a slow breath.

It rasped in his throat, the sound loud in his ears. His fingers curled lightly into the bedding beneath him, the fabric bunching in his palm. A white ceiling hung above him, smooth, even, save for a small crack right towards the far wall. Sunlight, colored the fading gold of dusk, streamed into the room, illuminating the dust drifting through the faint air currents. It shimmered against obsidian strands of hair, just like it had in his memories. His eyes scanned right over it.

He drew in another breath.

His head pounded, pulsing with every beat of his heart, with every faint movement of his eyes. It was bad, bad enough for him to long for something, anything to cover his eyes, but not bad enough to incapacitate him entirely. Not yet anyway. If it kept growing…that may lead to another story. But for now, he was okay. At least in terms of his physical condition.

Cursed energy swirled in the room, so achingly familiar that he closed his eyes against it. His fingers curled tighter against the bedding, his jaw clenching. His heart stuttered in his chest, but he focused on maintaining a regular pattern of breathing. No, this couldn’t be right… No matter how bad off he’d been…there was no way he’d be this pathetic so as to…

“Satoru,” a voice called, so quietly he questioned whether it’d been a figment of his imagination. Wouldn’t be the first time…

Swallowing hard, he opened his eyes, the blur of his vision sharpening to focus on the person hovering over him. Warm brown eyes, sharp, perceptive, intelligent, set in a face lined with exhaustion, as if all the world’s problems were up to him to solve, and only him. Dark hair cascaded down over his shoulders, the obsidian strands glossy, healthy. The hollows carved into his face had filled out some, his skin a far more healthy tone than the sickly pallor that had greeted him the last they’d met. Frayed lips pressed into a concerned line, matching the gleam to that searching gaze.

Satoru’s chest hitched. His hands loosened against the bedding, his palms practically burning in his desire to reach up and just…touch him.

To make sure he was real.

“Satoru,” he called again, a wrinkle forming between his brows that Satoru wanted to reach out and smooth away. His eyes stung and he blinked to prevent the tears from welling in his eyes, refusing to allow any weakness to show. A lump lodged in his throat, hard and painful.

Suguru was as beautiful right now as the day that he walked away…and all Satoru wanted to do was to tuck himself against him and feel those arms wrap around him, like he did in all of his dreams.

But…Suguru would just leave again, wouldn’t he?

Something moved in his periphery and his eyes shot towards it, fixating on the hand slowly approaching him. It trembled ever so slightly, as if hesitant to even move. Panic snaking through his veins, Satoru flinched, his eyes cinching closed just before the fingers brushed against his cheek. He hadn’t felt… He couldn’t…

But the touch never came.

“Satoru,” Suguru tried once more, far more hesitant this time around.

“Suguru,” Satoru managed, his voice thin as it rasped out from around the lump in his throat. His eyes cracked open, meeting Suguru’s gaze as it searched him once again. Relief bloomed past the concern creasing his features, softening the sharpness of his expression. The hand withdrew from where it hovered near his face, relief loosening the bands locking around his lungs. Suguru released a breath, a soft smile ghosting over his lips, and sat back.

“Oh good… It’s about time you joined us. I thought you’d keep sleeping forever,” Suguru said, holding a hand out to help Satoru up. Satoru glanced at the hand, panic still very much present in the rabbit-fast fluttering of his heart, and ignored it, pushing himself up without assistance. The teasing tone, the offer of assistance, it was all too reminiscent of their routines back during their school years, and Satoru refused to fall back into habits, refused to let Suguru past his defenses again.

He’d barely started putting himself back together from last time.

“Well, sorry for being injured. It wasn’t my intention to bother you,” he said, his voice nearly deadpan in how flat it sounded leaving his throat. His eyes widening in surprise, the smile slipped entirely from Suguru’s features, his hand dropping like a stone into his lap. Satoru fixed a pleasant smile to his face, hiding the tremble of his hands by folding them neatly in his lap. “If you tell me where a shower is to clean off, I can be out of your hair in less than an hour.”

A cold frown twisted at the edges of Suguru’s lips, the shock on his expression fading. His brows pressed low over his eyes, that open warmth cooling as he watched. Satoru swallowed, his fingers gripping at the fabric of his bloodstained pants. This was…just like he’d been in Shinjuku… He knew that the worry had just been an act. “I see,” Suguru responded, frost clinging to each syllable that left his throat. Satoru shivered, the temperature in the room dropping as the sun continued to sink below the horizon outside. Suguru studied him closely for a moment before his eyes slipped closed and his head turned, a sigh streaming from between his lips. “The bathroom is down the hall and to the left. I can arrange a change of clothes for you as well.”

Satoru nodded and, ignoring the faint whisper of disappointment flickering in his thoughts, pushed himself off the bed. What was there to be disappointed about? Suguru wasn’t going to just…act like nothing happened, no matter how much he wanted him to. Joints cracking as he stood, he stretched out the stiffness that had begun settling into his limbs before making his way towards the door. He was distinctly aware of the air breezing past his bared torso, of the blood smeared thickly against his pale skin, of the imprint of his ribs against his slender frame. Fluttery panic grew with each step and he focused on measuring his breaths to ensure it didn’t take over entirely.

He wanted to stay.

He wanted to go.

He wanted to stay.

“Is that really all you’re going to say to me, Gojo?” Suguru asked, jolting him suddenly from his thoughts. He froze mid-step, the air evaporating from his lungs instantly. Hearing his family name leave Suguru’s lips felt like a knife slowly flaying open his heart. But he supposed he deserved that. His hands, limp at his sides, trembled, his shoulders tensing. The bedding rustled, Suguru standing up from his seat on the mattress. “Two years and this is all you’re going to give me?”

“I wasn’t aware you wanted more from me, Geto,” he shot back, venom thick in his voice. “After all, the last time we spoke, you seemed pretty sure you never wanted to see me again.” Hurt leaked out from his words against his will, his hands slowly curling into fists. Footsteps approached him, but he didn’t turn to face him, unwilling to look at Suguru.

If he did, he may never look away, may never leave here again.

(God, he wanted to stay.)

“Yea, you’re right. I didn’t want to see you again. I knew you’d never understand what I was trying to do. But I think I deserve some explanation for why you showed up looking like you do right now, Gojo.” Anger began to rumble in Suguru’s voice, growing with each sentence. Satoru kept his gaze glued to the doorway, so close and yet so far away. The air felt thin around him, the walls slowly closing in with each footstep that drew closer.

“And why would I owe you an explanation, Geto? You were pretty clear that you don’t give a fuck anymore when you left!” he growled, bitterness dripping from each syllable that ground out from deep in his chest. He took another step forward, the panic fueling anger flooding his system. The world tunneled, the doorway stretching further and further away with every step he took.

“I left to save this world, Gojo! I left for you! To save you! I don’t fucking expect you to understand, but stop playing the fucking victim here when you know very well why I left!” Satoru glanced back, the blue of his eyes iced over entirely. His lips curled, his fingernails digging into his palms with how hard he had clenched them. Suguru glared back, a sneer twisting his expression. His arms were crossed firmly over his chest, some of his hair caught in the hinge of his arms. Anger flushed at his cheeks, highlighting the burning hue of his dark eyes.

“Don’t fucking say you’re doing this for me. If you even cared a bit about me, you wouldn’t have fucking left in the first place. So don’t…don’t say that.” Satoru’s jaw clenched, his chest heaving as if he’d run a whole lap around the room. But no, the only laps he was running were in his head. Suguru flinched back as if slapped, shock blanking across his face momentarily before the anger surged right back into place.

“Then what do you want me to say?! It’s not my fault that you can’t accept that I left! It’s not my fault that you’re letting this world run you ragged and for what? Some pathetic monkeys who can’t even see what you’re defending them against?!”

Satoru drew in a breath, hearing the biting hatred in the snap of Suguru’s words, and turned back towards the door, his teeth clenched so hard they ached. “Fuck you. Fuck you and your stupid plan and your stupid ideals. Fuck you for destroying yourself and making me finish the fucking job!” Cinching his eyes shut, he swallowed hard. Already, he could feel blood staining his hands, Suguru’s blood.

“Well, why don’t you just finish the fucking job, Gojo?! Isn’t that what a good sorcerer is supposed to do when they see me?!” Satoru stiffened, his hands flexing before curling right back into fists. Cursed energy sparked at his fingertips, but he drew it back, the effort far more than it should have been given his level of control.

“Fuck you. I don’t see how any of this is your concern anyway, Geto. You left. What I do isn’t your problem anymore. Isn’t that good for you?”

“Because you showing up here makes all of this my problem! Just like usual! When you can’t handle something, you always just shove it onto someone else’s lap to make it their problem to deal with. I see you still haven’t learned any responsibility!” Suguru spat, the insults digging deep into Satoru’s psyche until they rattled around with the other thoughts that tormented him with each breath. The cursed energy he had gathered drained away in that instant. Tears stung at his eyes, his breath catching in his throat.

“I didn’t mean to make this your problem!” Satoru retorted, trying to ignore the way his voice came out thick and wet. The footsteps faltered behind him. “I didn’t have anywhere else to go and I knew you wouldn’t hurt me at least! I’m sorry that I just added to your burdens. That was not what I wanted to do. If you just let me clean up, I’ll be out of your hair soon. Sorry for bothering you.” Tears trickled down his cheeks, his teeth closing down on his lower lip to prevent anything else from escaping.

He’d already said far more than he meant to.

His hand closed on the doorknob, his fingers numb to the cold touch of the metal, and he released a trembling breath, relief flooding him. Just a few more steps, a few more seconds, and this would all be over. He could just forget this ever happened, could bury this like the other memories he actively suppressed.

A hand closed on his arm, a warm, calloused palm dragging against his skin without anything to stop it. No infinity barrier. No shirt. Nothing. Satoru froze in place, his eyes widening sharply. Fingers, hot and firm, wrapped tightly around his bicep, the sensation sparking right up into his head where it shorted out everything running through his mind. The air wheezed out of his lungs, his mouth falling open, but no sound escaping him. His head whipped around towards Suguru, his startled gaze locking onto Suguru’s.

Suguru glanced between his arm and the tears still wet on Satoru’s cheeks, his eyes rounding in realization. “Satoru,” he breathed, the syllables of his name sounding so soft, so loved coming from Suguru’s voice. Satoru sucked in a breath, feeling a new flood of tears welling in his eyes. His mind was wiped of all save for the sensations flooding his system, from the way Suguru whispered his name, like a prayer, always like a prayer, to the warm wrap of the hand curled around his arm. His chest heaved for air, his heart roaring in his ears.

He had to get out of here.

Ripping his arm away from Suguru, he tugged the door open. “I’m sorry, Suguru,” he whispered, racing from the room the moment he had enough space to slip through the entry way. One hand pressed against his chest, feeling the flutter of his heart against his ribs, and the other rose to brush against his arm, the skin burning where Suguru had touched.

Chapter Text

Satoru ran a hand across the mirror’s fogged surface to clear it, his other hand gripping the edge of the sink to anchor himself. A bright blue set of eyes stared back at him from beyond the glass, the nearly luminescent hue dulled and glazed in its bloodshot cushion. Heavy bags creased below those eyes, appearing as dark smudges on what was once a “flawless” complexion. Sallow skin draped over his thin face, the sharp lines of his cheekbones far more prominent than they ever have been. His lips, pressed down towards the edges, were cracked and frayed where he’d been worrying at them with his teeth. Damp hair was plastered to his forehead, water trickling in a languid path down his face.

A hollow laugh echoed in the steam-filled washroom, his head rolling forward with the defeated slump of his shoulders. “I look like Shoko,” he rasped, more to hear his own voice than anything. His fingernails scraped against the slick glass surface as his hand curled into a fist. His eyes squeezed shut and he drew in a shuddering breath, trying to slow the pounding of his heart. People moved around just outside the bathroom, their unfamiliar cursed energy signatures searing at his eyes with their every movement. His head pounded, an ache that pulsed from between his eyebrows and wrapped like a vise around towards the base of his skull. A fresh set of clothes sat upon the closed toilet, his old clothes nowhere to be seen. He hadn’t even noticed anyone enter or exit. Another laugh burst from between his lips, this one bordering on hysteria.

He couldn’t believe himself. He got hurt and, in his delirium, he crawled his way back to Suguru. What had he expected? Did he think that Suguru would immediately renounce his stupid ass plans and come back with him? Was he expecting Suguru to finish the job a curse had started? He honestly had no fucking clue. But he was here now and he had to deal with the consequences of his actions. His head thunked against the mirror, laughing harder as tears spilled down his cheeks.

This was a new low, even for him.

He shouldn’t even be here.

He should leave, now, before… Before—

(A flash of a street, the scent of greasy food, the image of a cruel sneer and heartless eyes and words that ripped his heart, still beating, from his chest.)

He choked on a sob, his laughter finally cutting off. His lungs burned with each ragged breath, each more desperate than the last. Was he suffocating? Probably. Wouldn’t be the first time. Tears spattered into the pearly white sink and he bit down hard on his lip until blood flooded his tongue.

He was so pathetic.

The patch of skin just above his elbow glowed red, rubbed completely raw during his earlier shower. It burned, still, the phantom feel of Suguru’s hand clinging to his thoughts more than his body. He wanted more… He wanted those hands against his skin once again, and with that selfish desire, disgust pooled in his gut. All it had taken was a single touch and his defenses, his protections against something like this, had been shredded like paper.

How long had it been since he’d let someone touch him?

Infinity was lonely… It was cold, it was isolating, but it was safe. With a wall he could put between him and the rest of the world, he could protect himself from not only attacks, but from those who wished to get close to him, from those who wanted to touch. Not even Shoko was allowed through his barrier, and she never pushed further than he allowed.

But Suguru…He was always the exception, wasn’t he?

The hand on the mirror lifted and fell back against the glass with a dull thud, the noise cracking through the roar of his own thoughts. So he did it again, and again, until his thoughts silenced and his heart slowed and his eyes dried. Sniffling, he lifted his head, eyes dragging up to inspect his appearance once again. Tears glittered on his cheeks, his skin blotchy. Blood smeared along the inside of his lip, his tongue swiping at it as if to clean it. His eyes, swollen and bloodshot, stared blankly and the bright blue just made him angry to look at.

He wanted to break the mirror.

He wanted to shatter the pathetic person looking back at him.

Huffing out a breath, he stepped away from the sink, unable to stomach himself anymore, and turned towards the change of clothes. A simple pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt, both black, were folded on the closed toilet. Staring at them for a long moment, he sighed, closing his eyes, before tugging the clothes on. Air hissed out from between clenched teeth as the material rubbed at his raw skin, despite how worn and soft the cloth was. The pants hung low on his hips and he tightened and re-tied the drawstring with trembling fingers. The sweatshirt slid loosely off one of his shoulders, the material bunching at his wrists. He stared down at the way his hands practically swam in the fabric, the sleeves pulled up towards his palms.

These were Suguru’s.

He knew them well. He knew the bleach stain that bloomed by the elbow, knew the ragged repair job by the neckline, knew the sandalwood scent that Suguru still preferred to this day. His hands shook, his breathing suddenly unsteady once again as he tried not to focus on how soft the clothes felt or how, if he closed his eyes, he could pretend Suguru was holding him, just like he used to.

Scowling, he righted the sweatshirt on his thinner frame with an aggravated tug and turned towards the door, pointedly ignoring the mirror. If he took one more look at himself, he may actually shatter it and he’d rather not get blood on these clothes.

The door swung open soundlessly, steam billowing up behind him as he stepped through and into the hallway. Clean, cool air burned at his nose as he drew in a breath, completely frozen at the sight of Suguru leaning against the wall opposite the door.

Suguru had changed as well, those stupid monk robes replaced by a near replica of the outfit he wore, although he filled out the clothes much better. He was almost relieved by that, knowing that Suguru was taking far better care of himself than he had been when they’d last seen each other. It seemed that being away had stabilized him, that being without the rest of them, without him, was far better for Suguru’s health. Satoru tugged on the sleeves of his sweatshirt and he dropped his gaze, unable to bear the weight of the concerned eyes tracking his every movement. He hadn’t missed the horror flashing across Suguru’s expression at his first glance up. Biting down hard on his lower lip, he relished the sting of the fresh cut.

“You didn’t teleport back,” Suguru observed after several long, awkward moments, faint surprise ringing in his voice. A wry smile tugged at Satoru’s lips, biting back the hysterical laughter that threatened to break the confines of his chest.

“No,” he confirmed, his hands now gripping the bottom hem of the sweater. “No, I didn’t.” He had honestly forgotten that had been an option. Why hadn’t he thought of that before? He could have left, could have already been in the safety of his own room to not process any of this in peace. And yet he was still here, still face to face with Suguru.

Maybe because deep down, this was where he’d rather be.

Suguru hummed, a frown twisting his expression, although the press of his brows betrayed his concern. Dark eyes skirted towards the side, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. “I…thought you would. I didn’t expect you to actually still be here.”

“Well…I figured it would be rude to leave without…saying goodbye.” His voice trailed off, his chest hitching. His grip tightened on the sweatshirt, his fingernails biting into his palms through the fabric. Drawing in a deep breath, he looked back up, a wooden smile creaking at his lips. “Why? Did you want me gone already? Just say the word and I’ll be out of your hair!”

Suguru groaned, running a frustrated hand through his hair. It flowed down his shoulders, released from its usual confines, and Satoru wanted nothing more than to touch it, to comb his fingers through the silky strands and feel it run so, so smoothy between his fingers. His jaw clenched, his fingers flexing with the resulting burn of his desire. “Satoru,” Suguru sighed, his voice like a gentle finger trailing down his spine. “I don’t want to argue with you… Can we please just talk for a few minutes?”

Satoru opened his mouth to refuse, not willing to give Suguru any more space in his life, but paused, the fake smile fading.

(Shoko, distracted by setting up the suturing equipment that was somehow needed once again, sighed heavily, her hair spilling into her face. “Listen, Gojo…I know you’re upset with him, and for good reason too, but if it came down to it…what’s more important? Your pride or a chance to be happy again?”)  

A chance to be happy…?

Swallowing hard, his eyes dropped down to the floor and he nodded, feeling as if he was signing his own death certificate. “Yea,” he whispered, shoulders rising subconsciously. “Yea, we can talk.” The words fell thickly into the air, a sudden silence rippling after their soft echo. Satoru drew in a slow breath, his eyes shuttering, in an attempt to calm the frantic, anxious pulse of his thoughts. The sweater slipped off his shoulder once again, the sleeves rolling down over his hands, as if to hide their trembling.

Suguru sighed, the sound loud in the seemingly impenetrable silence, and pushed away from the wall, beginning to move towards him. Oh god, he was coming towards him. If he got too close… His arm burned, still imprinted with the warmth of Suguru’s touch. Flinching at the approaching footsteps, his head shot up, almost against his will, his eyes wide and frantic as they locked onto Suguru. That dark gaze, lined towards the corners with a weight that hadn’t been present earlier, flicked from his bared shoulder back towards his eyes. Satoru’s foot scraped against the floor as he stepped back, the feel of even Suguru’s warmth so close to him setting his skin on fire, even if they weren’t even touching. Suguru frowned, resignation flickering in the recesses of his gaze before it closed, and he turned away.

“Let’s…just go back to my bedroom… We can talk there, okay?” Suguru said, each word spoken carefully as if to soothe a spooked child. Satoru almost laughed at the sound of it. If that wasn’t the most apt description for how he was acting right now… Each time he thought he was hitting his lowest, he proved himself wrong in the most spectacular way possible.

Strongest sorcerer… yea fucking right.

The walk back to the bedroom was silent, awkward, with Satoru trailing several steps behind Suguru. Infinity flickered on and off around him, a frustrated crease growing between his eyebrows. With each manual activation of his technique, it snapped off almost immediately if he wandered a few steps too close to Suguru, as if enticing him to reach out and just…take what he wanted. But instead, he focused on trying to keep it on and active, trying to tune out his normal automatic commands for the technique itself.

He didn’t want to think about why it kept deactivating around Suguru.

Suguru held the door open for him as they passed through into the bedroom, the room now darkened by the early shadows of nightfall. Taking a few steps inside, he lingered awkwardly by the foot of the bed as Suguru fumbled for the light switch on the wall by the door. The lightbulb buzzed as it snapped to life overhead in a flash of light. He squinted, wincing at the distinct throb that lanced through his head, and rubbed at his aching eyes. Fuck, he wished he brought his spare sunglasses…anything to hide his eyes from view. But nope, he couldn’t even have that mercy. The world was determined to fuck him over completely today and put just how fucked up he was on complete display for all who cared to look. Not that the list of who cared was long.

“Why don’t you take the bed, Satoru…I’ll take the desk chair,” Suguru suggested softly, still eliciting a flinch at its sound despite the soothing tone Suguru had adopted. His hand falling away from his eyes, Satoru nodded, crawling up onto the bed in the most dignified way that he could manage despite the fact he felt like a child. Folding his legs in front of him, he settled at the head of the bed, his back resting against the multitude of pillows lined against the headboard. Suguru watched him for a long moment before tugging the chair out from under the small desk and sitting down, the wood creaking beneath him.

The light flickered, once, then twice, and neither of them spoke for several long moments, just watching each other carefully. Satoru’s lips pressed together, his eyes stinging at a sudden longing for the past, where they’d launch onto one another’s beds and whisper deep into the night without a single reservation. He missed the laughter. He missed the joy. He missed their closeness. But now…there was space…So much space. And Satoru had no idea how to even attempt to bridge that gap…and was uncertain if his heart could even take an attempt to do so.

“Satoru…are you taking care of yourself? You look like you’ve lost weight,” Suguru started, hesitation thick in his voice. His lips pressed into a worried line, his fingers twitching before interlacing in his lap. His eyes, slightly narrowed with focus, never wavered as they watched him.

(“Suguru, have you lost weight? Are you okay?”)

Satoru drew in a breath, his hand tugging up the neckline of his sweater to cover his shoulder once again. He dropped his gaze, but still felt the weight of Suguru’s stare all the same. His free hand pressed against his stomach, where it churned beneath his touch, nausea always lingering, always waiting to force itself to the surface whenever he let himself weaken for even a moment. A laugh choked its way out from his throat. “Are you saying I don’t look positively stunning?” he quipped, the false humor in his voice unconvincing, even to him. He looked back up, feeling a smile, fake, so very fake, stretch across his lips once again. “I’m offended, Suguru. I thought you liked leaner men.”

Suguru’s frown deepened, his knuckles white with how hard his hands gripped at one another. He leaned forward in his chair, balancing his elbows on his knees. Dark, glossy hair spilled over his shoulder, strands of it falling so beautifully into his face. “Satoru, you don’t have to pretend with me…”

“Oh, but don’t I?” The question, well less of a question, but a statement, felt as hollow leaving his throat as the laugh that followed it, his smile stretching wider until it nearly hurt. “Don’t you see, Suguru? I have to pretend with everyone! Because the moment I stop pretending is the moment that everything crumbles. Everything. The whole world, this damned stupid world and all it’s meaningless people! But, if I pretend hard enough, then everything will stay okay!” More laughter shook his slender frame, his hands gripping hard enough at his knees to leave bruises in their wake. He hunched over, his shoulders trembling. It was too soon into this conversation to have the latches on his restraint loosen…and yet here they were. “Everything…will stay okay…” he whispered, almost to himself.

“Satoru…” Suguru breathed, horror bleeding into his voice. “That…that’s so…”

“Fucked? Oh, don’t I know it.” Satoru laughed again, the choked sound tapering off into a ragged exhale. Sucking in a breath, he pushed himself up and leaned up against the headboard, letting his head loll back against the wall. Staring blankly up at the ceiling, he attempted to ignore the eyes staring holes into the side of his head. Wasn’t this what he wanted? For Suguru to pay attention to him once again? To worry over his health like the mother-hen he was? So why did it feel like a failure? “But I’m too far in to stop now, Suguru. Not all of us have the luxury of just…giving it all up…” Bitterness leeched into his voice, seeping in with the exhaustion that weighed down his every word, that weighed down his whole being.

He was just so tired…

“I don’t regret leaving,” Suguru stated firmly enough that there was no question that he meant it. Satoru released a trembling breath, his eyes drifting closed. The words stung, each word reminding him that he wasn’t enough…that he would never be enough. “But I do regret leaving like I did. I thought if you hated me…then my leaving would be easier on you.”

Satoru snorted, tilting his head away from Suguru. “Yea, well, see how well that worked out…”

“Staying there would have destroyed me, Satoru…” Satoru’s jaw clenched at the calm admission, his eyes cinching tighter closed. How could Suguru stay so calm saying these things about how this world would have destroyed him, and yet he was the one who was spiraling out of control? Suguru was supposed to be the crazy one, not him!

“I know that, Suguru…I know why you left, but that doesn’t change the fact that you left me.” Pain seeped from his words, an all-encompassing bitter loneliness that encroached on his soul a bit more every day that passed. His hands shook where they rested in his lap, fingernails scraping against the soft fabric of his borrowed sweatpants.

“I didn’t expect you to understand what I was doing and I didn’t want to…force you to come with me,” Suguru said, his voice pitched low in an attempt at soothing him. He knew that tone. He doubted he’d ever be able to forget it. Not when it was a calming pulse in his head after every nightmare, during every migraine, with every injury. Just another thing he wanted stripped from his memory where it couldn’t haunt him anymore.

Satoru sucked in a breath, looking back towards Suguru once again. Longing burned deep in his chest, aching with each slow inhale. “I don’t care about all that, Suguru! I could have forgiven you for what you did…Hell, I already have forgiven you for it…What I can’t forgive was you not trusting me… We could have figured something out…” Something akin to desperation flecked his words, his eyes staring into Suguru’s so earnestly that he felt his soul reflecting in them. “But…you left me…”

“Satoru…” Suguru murmured, the calm façade splintering.

Crumping forward, Satoru’s hands dug deep into his hair, fingers curling around the roots and tugging hard enough to hurt. “Please, Suguru,” he pleaded, the words cracking right in the middle. His eyes burned, but he shut them tightly, refusing to let any tears escape. “Please, Suguru…just have a little faith in me…Please.”

The chair creaked once again, soft footsteps padding over to the bed. Satoru stiffened as the mattress dipped, his fingers clenching tighter around his hair. The bedding shifted beneath him, Suguru moving until he sat right before him, the heat of his body sending goosebumps cascading down his whole frame. Selfish desire surged at his proximity, desperation to reach out and just…touch, to feel what he thought he’d never feel again.

“Satoru,” Suguru called. “Look at me…please.”

Satoru, unable to refuse him even now, peeked up, his lips parted to accommodate his panic tinged gasps for air. How pathetic. No wonder Suguru came over. His eyes wandered up to him, unable to move away once they locked onto that soft, worried stare. How could he…when this was the one thing he’d been craving since the moment he left? So lost in that stare, he barely noticed Suguru moving closer, barely noticed the hands drifting up towards him.

He doubted he would have tried to stop him anyway.

Suguru reached out, sliding his palms solidly against Satoru’s cheeks, no infinity baring his passage forward. Satoru froze, his eyes widening slowly as the color leeched from his face. Those hands…they were rough with callouses, but the touch, was so gentle, so soft, so warm against his practically frigid skin. He could feel the caress of thumbs across his delicate cheekbones, leaving burning paths in their wake. He could feel each long finger stretching up towards his temples, his ears, his jaw, practically everything. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe. His mind emptied of all save for the way Suguru’s hands felt against his face and he was intent on memorizing it.

When was the last time someone had touched him like this? Like he was someone to be treasured?

Suguru was saying something, his lips moving, but he couldn’t make it out, his ears ringing far too loudly. It was all he could do to stare at him, his gaze completely fixed on Suguru’s face.

Tears welled and rolled down his face, his expression immediately crumpling. His head tilted forward, a gasping sob emerging broken from between his lips. And just like that, the last of his restraints shattered, his chest heaving and his body shaking as a mere touch completely undid him from the inside out. He felt gutted, empty, and yet so very warm. He couldn’t process this, couldn’t process any of this.

And he didn’t want to.

The hands froze and started pulling away, but Satoru, too far gone to even be ashamed of his actions, grabbed his wrists, his head snapping up to bear bloodshot eyes. Tears soaked his cheeks, his complexion blotchy, and his lip had started bleeding again, blood mixing with the salt of the tears spilling down the back of his throat. “N-No…” he pleaded, sobs cracking through that single word. “Please…please don’t…”

Suguru’s expression softened further and, instead of pulling away, he leaned forward to rest his forehead against Satoru’s. Soft breaths fanned across tear soaked skin, those hands continuing to stroke gently at whatever they could reach on his face. Satoru trembled, his senses so completely shot, so overwhelmed by the feeling of Suguru’s skin, his warmth, against him, that all he could do was cinch his eyes closed and cry. “Oh, Satoru,” Suguru murmured, his voice so very gentle. “The years haven’t been kind to you, have they?”

Satoru only shook his head, sobs echoing loudly in the silent bedroom.

Chapter Text

The sky continued darkening just beyond the windows, the inky black of midnight shadowing the edges of the bedroom. The light, just a single bulb fixed into the ceiling, droned loudly, casting a harsh glare despite the occasional flickering of the weakening filaments. Voice swelled and ebbed as cult members walked past the door, but no one dared disturb them, not when Suguru had given explicit orders that they were not to be disturbed for anything. And now, with loud, broken sobs echoing in the silence, he was glad he’d given such an order.

If someone dared interrupt them here, when Satoru was finally letting himself feel, Suguru would probably have to kill them.

Another crackling whimper broke in the space between them, Satoru’s teeth closing down on his already frayed lip. Blood beaded along the slender cut, swelling bit by bit until it traced down his jaw in a thin line. Tears were smeared across blotchy skin, spilling continuously from under closed eyelids. They opened, for brief moments, when Suguru moved, their wonderful blue shattered through with fear until relief filled in the cracks when Satoru met his gaze once again. He trembled beneath Suguru’s palms, pressing further and further into Suguru’s touch with each passing moment.

As if Suguru would let go. Not now. Maybe not ever. If this was what Satoru needed, he would provide it. Anything to keep Satoru from spiraling. The way his voice echoed empty in the room, half manic with building insanity, the way his clothes, which had normally been loose, but comfortably so, now hung off his frame, the way his grin nearly split his face in half to match the broken laughter ringing off the walls… Suguru sucked in a slow breath, attempting to steady the frantic, aching beat of his heart. Satoru had always been unhinged…all sorcerers had to be in some form or another, but this was something else. This was something dark…dangerous…deadly.

(Not for the first time, he wondered if maybe this path…this plan…would only lead to ruin rather than the paradise he craved.)

He could count on one hand the number of times he’d seen Satoru cry, most of the time resulting from over-exertion or something similar, and he’d never seen him like this. Satoru held himself up on such a high pedestal, having been placed there upon birth by the people who were supposed to raise him as a child, as a person, rather than as a prodigy. Due to that, he forced himself to be strong, to endure so many hardships without flinching, that it was no real surprise that when he broke, he shattered. That protective posture, the slight hunch that Suguru hadn’t seen since their first meeting, the too-wide smile, all of it screamed of the front that Satoru was so used to adopting when he didn’t feel safe, a front that he showed to the whole world, that he was forced to maintain even in private for fear of being unable to pick up the pieces when it dropped.

…When had he stopped feeling safe for Satoru?

(Those eyes, bright blue and frantic, stared at him from several paces away, wide and fraught with anger, frustration,…and fear. Fear of losing the one person he held so dear to him. But Suguru just gazed back, chin slightly raised, and shoved his hands in his pockets, displaying an air of nonchalance that he didn’t quite feel. Satoru would never understand. He didn’t want him to understand.

Because that would mean he failed.)

But despite all that, they were still here, foreheads pressed together, Suguru cradling his thin face so gently. Skin on skin, no infinity between them. Suguru, his eyes soft and lined with worry, shifted a thumb to brush at Satoru’s lower lip, attempting to entice him to release it from between his clenched teeth.

Touch meant something different for Satoru than it did for the rest of the world, a fact that he’d learned early on in their friendship, after weeks, months, of stuttering, aborted hand brushes, to awkward combat training where Satoru often ran off quickly afterwards. Infinity was a powerful technique, a nearly impenetrable defense system that made Satoru practically untouchable. For better or for worse. The only things allowed through the barrier were things that Satoru consciously allowed. Touch, even casual touch, was considered a weakness. And if it only took a single brush of Suguru’s hands for him to completely break down like this…

Suguru wondered just how long it’d been since Satoru had allowed anyone this close to him…

None of this painted a great picture for Satoru’s mental state, especially when combined with Shoko’s nonchalance in the face of such horrific injuries on a sorcerer who was supposed to be untouchable.

Suguru clenched his jaw, fighting back the surge of anger at those who let Satoru spiral this badly, to the damn monkeys who created such terrible curses that wore Satoru to the bone…towards himself, who forced Satoru to endure the world without the one respite he was ever given. His own hands trembled against Satoru’s cheeks, his breath whistling in steady, but deep pants from his nose. Damn monkeys…damn sorcerers…damn world! Were they born into this world simply to suffer? Was that it? No. He refused. He refused to accept that as an answer.

Even if he had to reach out and drag happiness kicking and screaming back to them, he’d make this world a livable place. Where people, where Satoru, could smile again.

Where spring never had to end.

“Suguru…” Satoru choked out, his head curling closer to him. His hands hadn’t stopped shaking since all this started, but they still clung to Suguru’s wrists, as if afraid that if he let go…Suguru would vanish into nothing.

Suguru swallowed, his mouth dry, and leaned forward until their noses brushed, anger quickly draining away. “I’m here, Satoru. I’m not going anywhere,” he reassured softly, ignoring the growing dampness smearing around his eyes.

And honestly, the reassurance felt like a lie leaving his lips, especially after what he’d done. With his attempt to make his departure less painful for him, he’d instead forced Satoru to reject the world to protect himself from being hurt like that again. Guilt and regret swirled like acid in his chest, eroding away at him bit by bit. He’d done this…and what did he even have to show for it? A few more deaths under his belt, a couple of traumatized children…but he was no closer to achieving his goal. He swallowed hard, his eyes squeezing shut.

Satoru drew in a shuddering breath, releasing it in a soft whine, and he pressed closer. The violent sobs had started to ease, but tears continued streaming down ruddy cheeks, a fresh round spilling when his eyes cracked open. Suguru met his gaze calmly, the bright blue ripping the air from his lungs. He traced the white stripes that intermingled in swirling fractals within the luminescent hue, finding himself memorizing the patterns he’d tried to erase from his being. Fathomless, ethereal…he could describe them in thousands of ways that never quite seemed to fully encompass them, never truly could show how the sky, the stars, the whole universe, seemed to always reflect back at him in that stare. Tears beaded like stars along the undersides of his eyes, soaking into those long, pale eyelashes before continuing their journey down his face.

Silence, broken only by thick sniffles and hitching breaths, swept between them as they continued staring. Satoru’s lips parted slightly, drawing Suguru’s gaze away from his eyes for a brief moment. The cut glowed a bright red, even against a flushed background, and tears soaked into the cracks of that fraying skin. But they still looked so soft… He wondered if they felt just like they did a few years ago… He wanted to—

Satoru lurched forward and, almost frantically, slotted their lips together in a desperate kiss. Sucking in a breath through his nose, Suguru froze, his eyes widening sharply. His hands stiffened against Satoru’s face, his whole body locking up at once. His thoughts completely fizzled out, his brain solely focused on the way that Satoru’s lips felt, chilled, frayed, slightly bitter with blood, against his own. Static droned in his ears, broken only by his frantic heartbeat that pulsed with the near panic that surged through his veins. Satoru felt so good against him like this, in a way that he thought would forever be lost to him. He’d made his peace with that, and yet here they were, kissing as if no time had passed at all.

As if burned, Satoru drew back, the color washing from his face in an instant. His eyes, wide and almost fearful, flicked up and down Suguru’s face, assessing his expression, his reactions. Suguru didn’t move, couldn’t move, still frozen in place by the phantom heat against his lips. But he kept his gaze locked onto the blue eyes that haunted his dreams. Satoru’s mouth fell open, his eyes widening further, this time rippling with horror, but it was only when he began drawing away, his hands sliding slowly off Suguru’s wrists, that Suguru realized what had happened.

He hadn’t reacted to the kiss…And Satoru, wonderful Satoru, believed that this hadn’t been the only thing that had been on Suguru’s mind since he’d collapsed, half dead, at his doorstep.

Suguru, inhaling sharply to steady himself, tightened his grip on Satoru’s face before he could pull away completely. Satoru froze, his eyes snapping to him once more, this time something hopeful flickering in the recesses of his gaze. Leaning in slowly, Suguru smiled, ever so faintly, before kissing him once again, feeling tears sting at his own eyes as Satoru all but melted against him. Warmth kindled low in his stomach, pulsing deep into his chest with the affection that swelled so easily when he was around Satoru.

Tilting his head slightly, he slotted their lips together more comfortably and he smiled at the breathy whine that puffed against his lips at the change. Satoru’s fingers locked tighter around his wrists, fingernails digging small crescents into his skin. Soft hair tickled at his nose, Satoru’s bangs spilling messily into his face as always, and he smelled faintly of sandalwood, his own personal scent. Swallowing hard, Suguru prodded gently at Satoru’s lips with the tip of his tongue until they parted for him, an opening he was quick to take advantage of.

(Mine, mine, mine.)

Groaning in the back of his throat, Suguru pressed closer, huffing out a soft laugh when Satoru whimpered into the kiss. Fingers, still trembling even now, uncurled from around his wrists to lace into his hair instead, fingernails scraping gently, sensually against his scalp. Eyes fluttering closed, Suguru bit down gently on Satoru’s lower lip, bitter blood tinging at the tip of his tongue. But that just spurred him on further, desperate to continue, to push forward, to physically convey the feelings that Satoru had doubted.

Slipping away from Satoru’s lips, Suguru began pressing light kisses down the length of his jaw towards his neck. Satoru released a slow, unsteady breath, tilting his head towards the side to allow for more access. His fingers curled tighter into his hair, the strands knotting beneath his touch, as Suguru latched onto his pulse, teeth scraping against pale, pale skin. His tongue flicked out, swiping at where he’d bitten to savor the sweet flavor of Satoru. He sighed softly through his nose, feeling, more than seeing, the goosebumps pebbling at Satoru’s neck, as he moved slowly up, layering small marks against the white canvas. Fire burned deep in his stomach, desire surging just as strongly to match. He could feel the frantic beat of Satoru’s heart against the brush of his lips, could feel the rasping breaths that tousled his long hair.

Suguru, still suckling on Satoru’s skin like a starving man, finally slid his hands down from Satoru’s cheeks, caressing down the curves of his neck, over the harsh line of his shoulders before leaving his form entirely, planting in the pillows behind them. Satoru, a breathy whine escaping from between swollen lips, fell back, breaking away from Suguru in that single movement.

The light fizzled out as his body hit the mattress, plunging them into darkness that was broken only by the bright moonlight shimmering through the window.

Suguru, panting softly, stared down at Satoru, his hair spilling down off his shoulder to draw a curtain around them. Blue eyes glowed up him, still blindingly bright despite only a sliver of hue being visible around the dilation of his pupils. Vivid bursts of color burned against his pale cheeks, swollen lips parted slightly to accommodate his own heaving breaths. Reddening bruises trailed up the column of his throat, his head still tilted ever so slightly to the side to bear them. Silvery hair reflected the moonlight, fanning out like a halo against the pillows. Suguru swallowed, hard, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight, a sight that he only ever saw in his dreams these days. He leaned forward, closing the distance between them, only to pause before kissing Satoru once again.

…They really shouldn’t be doing this… Satoru lived in a different world from him, existed on a separate plane entirely.

He was spread out like an angel before him, so pure, so heavenly, so untainted by the stain of blood.

If he touched him, with hands as stained as his own…would he only be tainting him?

He’d made his sacrifices when he’d made his decisions. He sacrificed this to ensure his reality…

If he went back on it now…

Satoru, his hands shaking, slid his hands against his cheeks, those bright eyes glimmering with tears once again as they searched him. Desperation creased the lines around his eyes, strained the corners of his mouth. Suguru released a breath, leaning into the touch as he closed his eyes. “Satoru,” he murmured, his voice rough.

“Please…” Satoru pleaded, his voice cracked through completely. “Please, Suguru…”

Biting down on his lower lip, Suguru slumped forward and opened his eyes, tears spattering against Satoru’s cheeks as they dripped down his nose. Finding Satoru’s gaze once again, he felt all the fight drain from him the moment he caught sight of the delicate hope contained in that bright starlight stare. He never could refuse Satoru…So why would he start now?

“Shh…I’ve got you, Satoru…I’m right here.”

And he brought their lips together once again.

Chapter Text

The sun beat its warm glow onto the dark bedding, shining bright with the early morning’s light. A soft breeze swirled into the room, rustling the loose curtains as the gentle aroma of wildflowers and damp earth wafted in with it. Birdsong chirped through the cracked window, gentle and peaceful and oh so irritating first thing in the morning. Groaning, Satoru tugged the blankets up higher, burying his face into his pillow. The faint scent of sandalwood and musk drifted up from the sheets, the smell of it seeping bit by bit into his thoughts until it encompassed the whole of his senses, the whole of his being. Smiling softly, he turned further into the pillow, his arms wrapping tighter around it. A pleasant ache settled into his muscles with each movement, matching the stiff creaking of his joints, especially down towards his hips.

The events of last night flashed through his mind and he just relaxed further into the mattress, his head nearly silent for the first time in what felt like years. He could still feel Suguru’s touch against his bared skin, still feel his warmth flush against him as it thawed the iced bits of his soul by just being close. The bruises on his neck throbbed when his fingers brushed against them, a shiver tingling down his spine at the memory of being so thoroughly claimed. He’d missed Suguru…more than he’d ever claim to admit…and he felt whole for the first time in a long while.

(Since that fateful afternoon in Shinjuku if he was being honest.)

Infinity was off and he felt no urge to turn it back on.

Sighing softly, he rolled onto his back, throwing an arm over his eyes to dampen the light. So far, he hadn’t noticed the budding headache he normally woke up with, but he wasn’t about to take any chances on that. Not when everything else felt so good. “Suguru~” he half-whined, extending his free arm out towards where Suguru likely was. “Close the curtains, will you?”

But the sheets were cold and his hand dropped into empty space.

His heart stuttering to a stop, he slowly, hesitantly pulled his arm away from his face and turned his head. The light seared at his sensitive eyes, pain almost immediately beginning to pulse in the space between them, but that pain, as always, was ultimately ignored. The spot next to him was empty, the blankets rucked up and messy and pulled down at the corner. A single pillow rested crookedly beside his own, its surface still indented, and the mattress still bowed down ever so slightly. But there was no other indication that someone had been there, no sign of the arms that had wrapped so securely around him as he’d drifted off, no sign that anything had happened save for the bruises that scattered his pale skin and the soreness of his body.

Satoru sat up frantically, a thin breath slipping cold into his lungs. The blanket pooled at his waist, his body numb to anything and everything around him. His eyes, as wide as they could go, remained locked onto the empty space beside him, searching over and over as if each scan would turn up new information. But no…there was nothing. Just a chilled spot as the residual body heat faded bit by bit into the cold morning. His chest hitched, fingers curling into the bedding as if to anchor himself.

Suguru had just gone to the bathroom, or stepped out for a moment to get something… He hadn’t…He couldn’t have…

(The broad expanse of Suguru’s back shrank bit by bit as he walked down the sidewalk, walked away from him.)

His vision blurred, tears slipping hot down his now frigid cheeks. Shuddering gasps for air echoed in the silence, his hands coming up to press over his face, to fence over his shattered, aching eyes. Shoulders trembling, he hunched over, teeth closing down on his lower lip in a futile attempt to silence the desperate noises pouring from between them. His body ached, his neck throbbed its reminders, but that only added to the thick, acidic panic clinging to each heartbeat, surging with each breath.

Suguru had—

(“Oh, Satoru,” Suguru murmured, voice deep in the throes of exhaustion. His hand trailed up and down Satoru’s bared arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. Satoru shifted closer, his body so warm and relaxed as he basked in Suguru’s easy affection, and he absently toyed with silky strands of Suguru’s hair. Dark eyes gleamed at him in the darkness, reflecting the glow of the moon spilling in from his dorm room window. A soft smile tugged at swollen lips, an expression that was mirrored on his own face. “I’m so glad you’re here with me…”

“Oh?” Satoru whispered back, his smile sharpening as he leaned in closer. “And what would you do without me, hm?” Suguru blinked, long and slow, back at him, the hand that had been on his arm reaching up to brush his pale bangs away from his face.

“I don’t know…lose my mind probably…” The words were heavy with sincerity, dropping thickly in the space between them. Satoru stared, his mouth hanging open slightly. His good humor trickled from his expression, his throat clogging in the sight of Suguru’s genuine response.

“Oh…” he choked out, voice strangled. Suguru laughed, looping the arm around Satoru to drag him closer. Yelping in surprise, Satoru followed Suguru’s grasp, collapsing against him with his face buried in Suguru’s shoulder. Long, calloused fingers combed into his hair, fingernails skimming lightly at his scalp in a way that always made him go boneless. Hiding another chuckle against his skin, Suguru pressed a kiss to his temple.

“I love you, Satoru.”

Satoru could only whine, feeling heat flood his cheeks.)

Satoru bit down harder on his lip, blood oozing into his mouth once again from the cut, torn open by clenched teeth. His eyes cinched closed, pain sparking where his fingers began to dig into the skin above his eyebrows. Tears smeared against his palms, against his cheeks, spattering onto the blanket tangled in his lap. Silent sobs shook his body, his breath rasping loud through the static filling his head. The bruises on his neck throbbed, flashing constant reminders of Suguru’s touch, his embrace, the gentle way that he’d soothed the broken edges that his absence had torn into his being. The memories of last night mixed with the memories of the past, dredging up constant reminders of how things used to be, of how things could still be.

Suguru had been so gentle…but still…he was go—

(Suguru’s back was turned, bearing the long greasy locks that spilled messily down the back of the thread worn sweater practically hanging off of him. Satoru took a step forward, one of his hands reaching out. Whether he was preparing to grab at him or to prepare one of his techniques…he wasn’t sure. He just knew he had to do something. He couldn’t just stand here. Not while Suguru looked like this, sounded like this. His heart lurched into his throat, leaving a gaping hole that ached with each breath.

“You could kill me now…There would be meaning in that.”

Satoru froze, the flatly spoken words reaching him through the crowd. His fingers, curled slightly in preparation of a technique, loosened, his arm dropping heavily to his side. Air burned at his lungs, his chest heaving with each frantic breath, but he could only stand and watch as Suguru wove through the crowd, his dark form becoming less and less visible with each passing second.

“Oh? And what would you do without me?”

“…I don’t know…lose my mind, probably…”

Had…had he done this? He hadn’t been around…hell, he’d barely even been back to the school the last few months… He hadn’t seen Suguru struggling… He hadn’t noticed… And because of that…it’d come to this…

Maybe all of this was his fault…)

Drawing his knees up towards his chest, Satoru hunched over them, fingernails digging grooves into his skin. Painful, ragged sobs tore from his throat, breaking past even his clenched teeth to echo into life in the bedroom. He could still feel Suguru’s touch hot on his skin, could still feel the relief that had allowed him to relax for the first time in years. And yet here he was, right back to where he’d been in the days following Suguru’s departure, alone and desperate and without any reprieve. He’d been stupid to let himself believe that Suguru would want to be here still… He’d gotten what he wanted from him after all.

Why would he want to be around the one who let him slip so far into insanity? The one who abandoned him first?

Satoru whimpered, grinding his palms into his aching eyes. He just wanted to disappear. He should have never come back here. He should have just gone back to the school, consequences be damned. If they’d let him die…well…he couldn’t say he blamed them… Blood washed over his tongue, his teeth finally tearing through the last of the scab on his lip, and he relished in that faint burn. The air thinned more and more around him, each of his heaving breaths far less productive than the last, and his head felt hazy.

He wished that he could turn back time…

The door creaked open, the sound barely registering on Satoru’s panic stricken radar, and all Satoru did was curl further into himself, a pathetic sob cracking into the pause that followed the door opening. “Satoru!” Suguru, the voice he’d been longing to hear, cried out, alarm lancing through the frantic call of his name. Something clattered to the ground and footsteps rushed towards the bed, Satoru freezing at the approaching form. It couldn’t be… He couldn’t let himself believe… Not again…

He suddenly realized that aside from the blanket, there was not a single scrap of clothes on his body. Everything was visible, everything, and he just knew Suguru could pick him apart easily with just a glance. He couldn’t hide. He couldn’t—

Arms, warm, strong, safe, wrapped around him, dragging him against a sturdy chest. Fingers laced into his hair, combing through it in a repetitive, soothing pattern that he used to have memorized. Satoru choked on a breath, a broken sob catching in his throat on his exhale, but he fell into Suguru’s embrace, ignoring how infinity remained off even now, when he’d been in the midst of a panic attack. His hands dropped hesitantly away from his eyes, fisting instead in the fabric of Suguru’s shirt, and he buried his face into Suguru’s chest, allowing his touch, his scent, his voice to wash over him.

“I’m here, Satoru…” Suguru murmured, tightening his grip around Satoru’s trembling form. “I’m right here. I’ve got you…” Satoru hiccuped, feeling his heart beginning to slow as warmth sank into his cold limbs. His shoulders shook with barely suppressed sobs, their frequency decreasing bit by bit. A thumb stroked at his bared skin, Suguru rocking them back and forth in time with his soft shushing. Lips pressed into the crown of his head, Satoru releasing a helpless whine as he shuddered further into Suguru’s arms.

“Suguru…” he choked out, finally able to force words out from the panic that had wrapped far too tightly around his airway. Tears spilled out from beneath closed eyes, soaking into the cloth his face was pressed into. But Suguru’s touch doused the panic burning through his system, as easily as it had years prior when they were used to burying their emotions in the other’s embrace. The iron bars locking around his lungs loosened, his tight gasps lengthening into congested breaths, and the static filling his head softened to the usual dull roar. His head ached, a hint to the migraine that was likely to strike later in the day, but for now, with Suguru’s arms around him, it was manageable.

Suguru would always be his salve, wouldn’t he? No matter how much he tried to change that, tried to rip the part of him that was Suguru from his soul, he never cut it cleanly enough, and there was always pieces of him left.

Maybe he just hadn’t tried hard enough.

But with those arms wrapped around him like this…something close to peace blanketed over him, and he found it hard to remember why he wanted to erase Suguru from himself. He wanted to stay here forever…

“I’m here, Satoru. You’re okay…” Those words, softly spoken in that warm voice he merely dreamed of, washed away his remaining panic, though he could still feel it lingering at the edges of his consciousness, waiting for his next moment of weakness. Sniffling, he tilted his head up, blinking away the tears glittering around his eyelashes as he looked up at Suguru. After shifting slightly, those warm brown eyes gazed back at him, their hue flecked with a worry so strong it made his heart clench. Swallowing dryly, he managed a weak smile, feeling blood cracking in the lines of his lips.

“Hey,” he rasped, wincing at the croak of his own throat. Suguru released a breath, a soft smile tugging at his lips as something akin to affection warmed his gaze.

“Hey yourself,” he whispered back, lifting a hand to brush a few strands of white hair from his forehead. Satoru closed his eyes momentarily, leaning into that brief touch. Each time Suguru’s fingers grazed his skin, it felt like fire, an addictive burn that he couldn’t get enough of, no matter how much he basked in its warmth. “You okay?”

“You were gone…” Satoru mumbled, feeling his chest hitch once again as he voiced the reminder into existence. Suguru’s hand froze where it’d been trailing down his temple, his body tensing noticeably from where Satoru rested against him. “I…I woke up…and you weren’t here… I thought you left…”

“Satoru…” Suguru breathed, a faint wisp of horror leeching into his tone. “I…”

Satoru opened his eyes again, ignoring the fresh haze of tears skimming across his vision, and stared up at Suguru once again. Swallowing hard, he shook his head, trying to shove down the panic just waiting for him to let his guard down again. “No…it’s okay…You’re back…I was just being stupid…” His smile grew, still clinging to the euphoria that Suguru’s touch sparked. He was being silly… Of course Suguru had just been doing something else…He lived here after all. He probably just had something to do.

His grin fading, Suguru’s eyes widened, his skin a few shades paler than it had been a few moments prior. “Satoru…You…know I wouldn’t leave you without telling you first, right?” Satoru pulled himself up a little straighter, breaking eye contact to nuzzle his head into the crook of Suguru’s shoulder. His head always fit so nicely here, like this one spot had been created just for him.

“I know,” he whispered, his eyes closing as he breathed in Suguru’s scent. The arms around him shifted, both now wrapping tightly around his torso to hold him as close as possible. “Where did you go?” For a moment, all was silent, Suguru’s body so tense against his own, but all he cared to feel was the warmth against his bared skin. One of his hands reached up to poke at Suguru’s cheek.

“Suguru?” he questioned, pressing his nose into the curve of Suguru’s neck. Suguru shivered, inhaling sharply, and tightened his grip.

“I…I was getting you breakfast…” he mumbled, embarrassment flooding his voice.

Satoru jerked upright, his bright blue eyes locking onto Suguru once again in surprise. Color flooded those tanned cheeks, his teeth picking at the dry skin flecking the edges of his lips. Suguru’s eyes locked onto his for a brief moment before skirting away, shoulders creeping upwards ever so slightly. He’d been…getting him breakfast? That’s why he was gone when he woke up earlier?

It was only then that he remembered the crash that had exploded into the room before Suguru had rushed over to him.

Sucking in a breath, his eyes jumped towards the door, his mouth falling open slightly in surprise. A tray sat, tipped over, by the entrance, a mess of broken dishes and spilled food scattered out in a wide spatter surrounding it. A mug rolled against the still opened door, a large puddle of coffee rippling out from within its confines, colored pale with cream…just how he liked it. Pastries sat crumbled next to the shattered dishes, powder sugar still dusting their surface, and a mix of sweet jams and honeys smeared against the wooden flooring.

Satoru stared at the mess for several long minutes, his heart lodging in his throat at the sight of the meal, so handpicked for him.

His stomach growled.

Audibly.

Stiffening, he sheepishly looked back towards Suguru, his own cheeks dusting a pale pink. He hadn’t made that noise in a while… He hadn’t even been sure he still could. But Suguru just smiled warmly at him, his expression soft as he drew him in to kiss his forehead. Satoru shivered, his cheeks coloring further at the display of affection. “I can get you some more food,” Suguru murmured into his skin, the words sending goosebumps trailing down his skin. So much affection…he really didn’t know what to do with it. Warmth pooled in his gut from where it’d been glowing in his chest and he swallowed hard.

Without really thinking anything through, he shoved Suguru into the mattress with a well-placed push and, ignoring his responding yelp, swung his leg over his frame to straddle his waist, bracing both hands against that well built chest. Brown eyes glowed as they gazed up at him, eyelids dipping low over that enticing stare. Satoru watched as Suguru’s tongue flicked out, wetting those perfect lips, before withdrawing back into his mouth, his hands curling into Suguru’s shirt once again. Dark hair spilled around his head, still loose from the night before, and Satoru wanted nothing more than to tangle his hands in it and tug, just like how he knew Suguru liked it.

Fuck…He was so goddamned hot.

Sucking in a breath, Satoru leaned down and captured those lips with his own, breathing a soft sigh into the kiss as he tilted his head to melt against Suguru. Laughter bubbled into his skin, Suguru responding almost instantly. Hands locked around his waist, holding him in place. Not that Satoru had any intention of moving any time soon. Suguru was here…and he intended to keep him here using any means necessary.

“What about breakfast?” Suguru asked breathlessly between kisses.

Satoru grinned, the expression thin and sharp, and sat back ever so slightly, watching Suguru’s eyes roll back in pleasure.

“Oh…I think breakfast can wait for now…”

Chapter Text

Satoru poked his head into the infirmary, one hand hooked over the doorframe and the other knocking obnoxiously onto the opened door. Shoko, sitting on a rickety stool next to one of the metal gurneys usually reserved for dead bodies, sat up a little straighter, glancing sharply towards the source of the noise. The bags beneath her eyes seemed darker today than they had the past few times that he’d seen her, but that deep brown was just as sharp as ever, scanning over him quickly before rolling her eyes, visible annoyance twisting her permanent frown. Grinning at her, he waved before sauntering in, pushing the lollipop in his mouth off to his cheek. The sweet, artificial flavoring washed over his tongue with the movement, settling the light rumble of his stomach. He shoved a hand into his pocket, the other nudging up a pair of sunglasses to protect his eyes from the harsh artificial lighting.

He hadn’t had a migraine since visiting with Suguru…and he wasn’t in any rush to trigger one.

(And if the sunglasses were a gift, who was he to deny them…)

“Shoko,” he drawled, half-whining, as he threw an arm over her shoulders, practically draping himself over her. “It’s such a nice day out today! What are you doing holed up in here?” Shoko closed her eyes, exhaling slowly through her nose in what appeared to be a measured amount of time, before she shoved him off. The book in her lap thumped to the ground, closing upon impact, and her pencil skidded off in the opposite direction before sliding underneath another gurney.

“Gojo, you better be dying,” she threatened mildly, her voice as dry as ever. “Because if you came here just to annoy me, I might just have to kill you anyway.” Laughing, he backed off, both hands lifted in front of him placatingly. Her dark eyes burned as they stared him down, her arms crossing over her chest.

“Always so serious~” he teased, placing one hand on his hip and pulling the lollipop from his mouth with the other. “But no! I’m all good! You fixed me up perfectly as always, Shoko! You can even check for yourself!” Using the lollipop as a pointer, he waved it over his body before popping it back into his cheek, grinning widely at her. Her scowl deepening, she scanned him from top to bottom, her gaze lingering momentarily on his glasses, the lollipop, the expanse of bruises scattered down the column of his throat. The annoyance leeched from her expression ever so slightly, the lines around her eyes softening and her frown easing. Her hands dropped to the side, her shoulders relaxing a fraction. Satoru kept his smile on his face, knowing exactly what she kept glancing at and why. Fondness warmed his chest, only second to the gratitude he felt for Shoko’s presence over the last few years.

Not that he’d ever tell her that.

“I can see that.” She sighed, leaning down to pick up her book. Her fingers brushed the dust from the cover before thumbing through the pages to find where she’d been before he’d interrupted her. “So you are here to annoy me. Great. Could you please do that outside where I don’t have to see you?”

Laughing, he rocked back on his heels and pulled a few items from his pocket. “Nah, I’m just here to give you some stuff I picked up while I was out!” he corrected, placing the objects down on the table in front of her. She blinked, glancing down, and froze. A pack of cigarettes, a carton of her favorite brand of cigarettes, sat sealed before her, but what really held her attention was the small, red lighter resting atop the carton. A replica of the one that Suguru had given her before he left them for good.

The one she smashed that same day.

Her eyes, slightly wide and startled, shot towards Satoru, who only grinned back at her, hands now shoved into his pockets once again. “Figured you were running out, so I grabbed some for you! You can thank me if you want!” Huffing out a laugh, she grabbed the carton and the lighter and slid them into her pocket.

“And what would I be thanking you for? Not being a total idiot this time?”

Gasping, he pressed a hand against his chest, dramatically taking a step back. “Shoko! How rude! You know as well as I do that I am brilliant!”

Snorting, Shoko turned back to her book, sitting on her stool once again. “Sure, a brilliant idiot. Now, are you gonna let me study or no?”

Part of him was tempted to tease her some more, but as he opened his mouth, his phone buzzed in his pocket. Excitement flecking at the corners of his lips, he drew it from his pocket, eyes flicking down to glance at the screen. A few, very familiar, numbers danced across the screen, followed by a simple message.

‘Call me when you get back.’

His heart jumping into his throat, he focused back onto Shoko, only mildly surprised to find her eyes studying him once again. His grin widened, finding himself barely able to breathe with the pure elation flooding his being. “Ah, I’m letting you off easy today, Shoko! But next time, you won’t be able to get rid of me!” One of her eyebrows crept up towards her forehand, but she simply rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“Honestly, I don’t want to know. Just go, Gojo. Your face is starting to irritate me.”

Laughing, he recalled her pencil with a quick application of Blue, cancelling the technique just in time for it to smack into the center of her forehead. Very lightly. The world went still for a few moments, the pencil falling into her lap. But then, she twitched, her head turning slowly towards him.

“Gojo!” she roared, anger finally breeching through her normal dryness.

But he was already gone, the door clicking shut behind him as he fled the infirmary, cackling.

After making it a good way down the hallway, he paused by an open classroom, glancing around before ducking inside and sliding the door closed behind him. The room, empty of all save for the dust cascading gently from the ceiling, was oddly peaceful at this time of day, sunlight beating onto the wooden flooring. Releasing a breath, he finally focused onto his phone, skimming over the message over and over again.

Call him?

(“The number you have dialed cannot be reached at this time, please try again later.”)

Biting down on his lower lip, he dialed the number that was probably etched into his soul at this point, and lifted the phone to his ear. It rang. Once, twice, three times. His heart stuttered in his chest, an old panic beginning flare from deep in his stomach.

But then the call connected.

“Hello? Satoru? Did you make it home okay?”

Satoru smiled, relief all but eradicating that panic before it could even take root.

“Yea, I did, Suguru… Thanks for picking up.”