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Gojo was the definition of reckless. He was stubborn, and god was he selfish.
From the moment they had met, Nanami had never liked him. He hated the way his voice grated on his ears, hated the way he tugged Shoko's sleeve, and hated the way Getou coddled him.
He hated what made Gojo, Gojo.
He hated him because he was reckless and selfish.
Recklessly, selfishly, alive.
He was alive, but Haibara wasn't?
Haibara who was kind, and giving.
Haibara who thought of more than himself, Haibara who wasn't nearly as reckless.
Yet Gojo lived like he was barely trying?
Gojo lived like he was aiming to die.
—------------------------
“You never smile when you see me.” Gojo tells him one day. It's late, and they're the only two leaving the school grounds, the only two who returned late from their missions. Why did Nanami even still do them? He was a salaryman.
“There isn't much of a reason to.” It's cold, precise, and to the point. Everything that made Nanami, what he believed he was.
“You could try to joke a little more.” The albino whines, and when Nanami doesn't respond, Gojo doesn't comment again. He walks quietly beside him until they reach the station, and teleports away right before the train arrives.
—----------------------
Nanami thinks he's strange.
Strange in a way that makes him feel uncomfortably heavy footed.
He wonders how Getou dealt with him for so long, how did Shoko?
When Getou defected, Gojo seemed to have left for a while too. He was quieter, humbler, and distant. The arrogance was almost gone, and something odd and uncanny filled its place. Nanami was stupid to think it would make them any kind of similar.
It didn't matter what he lost, Gojo would just become a bigger presence himself to fill the empty space. He would throw himself headfirst, and open armed, into death's embrace.
And by God, would he live every time.
He was renowned for his strength, his brilliance in battle, and his talent to just live.
Nanami wouldn't congratulate him, because all it was, was destructive. Would you praise a child for destroying a toy, just because they knew they'd get a new one? Tell a criminal good job, just because they happened to steal the right purse?
In a group that was once larger, of course, only some got to remain. So why was it Gojo who got lucky? No, why did Gojo seem so ready to throw it all away? How would it be fair, if even he died too?
But-
Why was he so focused on Gojo? It's not like Mei Mei wasn't selfish, or Utahime wasn't stubborn. Shoko was destructive too.
Through thick and thin, before everything went downhill, it had always been Gojo. Nanami hated not knowing why, and not knowing was all the albino stood for.
—-----------------------
“Can't I call you by your first name?” The question is accompanied with a grin, and a nudge to his side. The blond begins to feel uncomfortably warm under his collar.
“No.” Is the response, tired and unyielding. He goes to move away, and the taller man wraps an arm around his shoulders instead.
“I've known you for years, haven't we grown close?” His pout is exaggerated, and he sways, almost knocking them both completely off balance.
“You act like a child, Gojo-san.”
The albino pauses, and there's a look on his face that isn't right. Too serious to be the playful man he knew him to be. Too uncomfortably, similar to himself, in all the wrong ways.
“You're so cruel Nanamin.” The look is gone, and his tone is still playful, but he retracts his arm and pulls away. When he leaves, Nanami wishes he could ignore the cold weight on his shoulders.
—---------------------
“Are you gay?” Shoko asks him, eyes closed, and breath a fog of smoke.
The question punches the air out of his lungs.
“Why-”
“The way you look at Gojo, or am I mistaken?” Her gaze is tired, and her head hangs on the heel of her palm, cigarette pressed between her fingers.
“There's nothing.” It doesn't sound the way he wants it too, and she squashes her cigarette easily.
“If you say so.”
He knows neither of them believe it.
—-------------------
“Nanami can I come over?” It's not the first time he's asked, and it wouldn't be the first time the blond had said no. Always a no, he's never hesitated.
He hesitates, “alright.”
The albino wears a face of open surprise, and Nanami blames everything, at that moment, on Shoko, for getting in his head.
“It's a date then.” Gojo is grinning stupid, and Nanami can't seem to crush the fluttering feeling in his chest.
“Don't make me change my mind.” He wouldn't, not that Gojo needed to know.
“Aye, aye Captain!” He waves cheerfully as he rushes off, Nanami cringing behind him.
—------------------
“I hate you.” Nanami lets the words hang in the air, and flushes them down with alcoholic liquidity, slouching forward in his chair.
“Why is that Nanamin?” Gojo is just as drunk, just as tipped forward as he is, and still just as cheerful. It was him who wanted to drink after all.
“You use that horrible nickname, you're stubborn, selfish, and you're destructive.” Right now, tomorrow doesn't exist. Today there would be no consequence, tomorrow he'll blame it on drunken babbling.
“Then I hate you too Nanamin. You're too serious, you don't play along with anything I do, and you can be too much of an adult.” Gojo retaliates, slamming his glass on the coffee table, and neither of them comment when the liquid sloshes out of the cup.
“We are adults.”
“I wish we weren't.”
“Why are you here Gojo-san?” He sighs, running a hand through his hair and grimacing when he realizes it's fallen out of its usual style.
“Because I hate you for not liking me.” He topples forward when he says it, and Nanami barely manages to catch him in time, pushing him back against the couch.
“Like you? What kind of person wants to be friends with someone who doesn't care for their own life?” It's angrier than he means it to be, more honest than it should be.
“You haven't even looked at me Nanami. I'm not a teenager anymore.” Gojo sounds desperate, and he's grabbed the blond by the shoulders. “Oh my God, we were kids. We were kids, Kento. We were children.” He's shaking him so hard, Nanami starts to feel nauseous.
“What-”
“Haibara was my friend too. We both saw someone die that day. Suguru, Suguru was my everything. He left. He's gone. I was stupid then, I'm sorry I wasn't as cool headed as you. I was grieving too.”
The pieces were already there, a puzzle so easy to solve, and yet it was only starting to click in place.
“I can't be Suguru Getou.”
“I'm just asking you to be Kento Nanami. I don't need a replacement, and neither do you.” He says it like it was easy, drags him close, and kisses him like it was easy too. Sloppy and drunk, but a kiss all the same.
“I'm sorry.” It's all Nanami can think of to say.
“If you're really sorry, then feel bad and tell me you like me too.” It's so playfully Gojo, that Nanami can't help but laugh.
“Sure, I like you too, Satoru.”
Gojo, in Gojo fashion, pukes.
—------------------
“Nanamin.” The albino groans beside him, when he moves to get out of bed.
“I told you to stop using that nickname.”
“Then, can I call you Kento?” He whispers it like a secret, holding him close and brushing his lips against his ear.
“You did yesterday, before you threw up on me.” Nanami sighs, moving a hand up to pinch his nose.
“Then, Kento?”
“Yes Gojo-san?”
“Call me Satoru.” Gojo whines.
“Okay, Satoru.” Nanami rolls his eyes, and Gojo smiles.
“I like you.” And he kisses him.