Chapter Text
“Aaaand two-thousand. That’s enough Yuu—ji,” Gojo flicked the back of his head and leaned forward, lips a few millimeters away from grazing hair tucked behind Yuuji’s left ear. Yuuji felt the weight shift on his back where Gojo was sitting cross-legged, but he refused to let the change in balance tip him, and managed to sneak in a couple more pushups before he let his shoulders give in. Not due to tiredness, but because of Gojo letting out a dramatic sigh, out loud, hitting all the points worthy of a theater performance dialogue and in manner that made the hairs of his skin prickle up into goosebumps. Ever so subtly.
“Youth these days,” Gojo huffed, “an average man would be on the brink of exhaustion when even considering your stamina and penchant for this spartan routine you consider ‘exercise’.”
Yuuji felt the weight lift off his back as Gojo unfolded his knees and hopped off, gracefully landing on the wooden flooring. Then, he felt hands on his hips, fingertips firm, rolling him over to face the ceiling, where he was met with a pair of sunglasses threatening to fall off Gojo’s head. He was leaning down with his face a few centimeters too close, two glints of icy sapphire peeking through.
“Not that I would, though,” Gojo hummed as Yuuji’s throat slid further down his stomach, just like his sunglasses did, revealing the sharp cracks of delicate blue glass that shaped themselves into flowers within his pupils, “the average man is, in analogy, like… a watt and I’m more of a horsepower. Five horsepowers. Catch the reference?”
Gojo wiggled his eyebrows at Yuuji, waiting for an response.
Yuuji gulped, mind stuck elsewhere, and considered blowing a puff of air on his sensei’s face just to see what would happen. Would the sunglasses fall off? Or would Gojo-sensei be surprised and commend Yuuji for catching him off guard?
His sensei was a firm believer and preacher of the “Never let them know your next move” movement after all. Though it’s likely an excuse to slide off work, since the last time he quoted that he blew off an important meeting with Gakuganji and the higher ups due to “urgent clan duties concerning an aquatic disaster”, and teleported to the basement with KFC takeout and two blu-ray copies of Finding Nemo and Finding Dory.
The air Yuuji gathered for the blow failed to meet its target, and he was pulled up by his wrists to a standing position. He briefly centered himself to avoid bumping into Gojo’s chest when he was let go.
Long, lithe fingers gently sliding off his wrists a few seconds slower, his heart squeezing at the snail’s pace.
Yuuji tilted his head up to his sensei who was gazing at him with an expression of mock betrayal, white brows scrunched up and lips in a slight, pout? Yuuji wasn’t sure. Gojo had shown a wide range of emotions ranging from smiles that didn’t quite reach his eyes, which were reserved for when he recounted the quote end quote boring mission reports issued by the higher ups that he was forced to write (pass on to Ichiji), to the downright mean smiles when relaying objectives for the day’s lesson and leaving Yuuji to another WWE match with the cursed dolls he annexed from Yaga’s personal collection.
Actually, scratch that.
Gojo’s scale of expressions might actually just be diabolical to diabolical, but that pout?
Unfamiliar, dangerous, challenging.
Yuuji released the air he was holding and the soft breeze landed on his sensei’s collarbone.
Missed. His sensei was ridiculously tall.
Gojo let out a choked sound, like a dying donkey, the tips of his ears tinged pink.
Yuuji held back a laugh and settled for a smile, some people might just be unexpectedly tickly.
“Were you trying to blow my eyes, Yuuji?” Gojo sniffed in feigned irritation, “What if they ended up permanently dried like those peaches they were selling at the candy store? Criminal by the way. Eyedrops wouldn’t even help my case.”
“What about tears, Sensei?”
Yuuji slapped a hand over his mouth, mind reeling at the implications of what he just said, and the consequences of not elaborating further. His breathing stopped altogether when he snuck a glance up his sensei’s face.
And,
Gojo’s eyes were flashing, flashing cobalt blue.
Dripping with sweet, sweet mirth, and something deeper?
Darker.
Feathery, thick, white eyelashes framing his unmoving stare.
Shiver.
“Are you suggesting you’ll make me cry?”
“Wh— movies,” Yuuji stuttered a broken off retort both from the lack of air and panic. And Gojo laughed, leaning in with all pearly whites flashing, “Maybe, romcom movies, those airport chasing scenes never fail to bring the waterworks. So. Cliche.”
Yuuji felt an index finger prod his cheek, and Gojo hummed, "I’ll be wailing enough to fill another world ocean before the end credits roll. Nothing could stop the waterfall, unless… someo—something distracting enough cuts me off."
“Ah, maybe if I blow o—“
“Yes,” Gojo interrupted, half a breath too quickly.
“I, on your eyes.”
“Oh.”
“It will dry,” Yuuji continued.
Gojo laughed, again, an octave higher than the one Yuuji was used to when his sensei would verbally brainstorm another prank on one of Jujutsu High’s unfortunate students for the day. Yuuji opened his mouth to crack the growing thickness in the air, before Gojo stepped away and clapped his hands together, effectively cutting the conversation thread. Sunglasses tipped back perfectly and glinted with the yellow light from the ceiling, expression morphed back into the usual cheer.
“That’s enough visual novel dialogue options and training for today, Yuu—ji, let’s hit the sushi bar!”