Chapter Text
Yuuji carefully balanced a piece of sweet tamago sushi between a pair of chopsticks and downed the whole piece. He chewed a total count of four times, not that Satoru was counting, just observing, before he gulped it down. The rest of the juicy egg went with a smooth slide down his throat, no resistance, like a snake consuming his prey.
Then, he licked his lips, slow, agonizing, God, and finished his third tamago sushi from the plate of five.
Appetizers? With Yuuji here, they don’t even need to order one.
Now that—
Satoru considered developing a new technique so he could strangle the devilish apparition whispering stupid, stupid thoughts into his head.
He wasn’t a particular lover for rules. Morals, however, he was a man of good looks, yes, fortune, and good morals.
Yuuji picked up the last piece of tamago sushi and wrapped his lips around it, too eager to finish and move on to the next dish they ordered, and he accidentally shoved it in a bit more roughly and further than intended. He coughed, likely hitting the small bell at the roof of his mouth, and Satoru prepared to utter a remark for slowing down unless he wanted to choke.
"Yu—"
"Hngh."
Hngh.
Satoru inhaled his remark.
And Yuuji continued chewing.
What, what was he going to say again? Yuuji.
Bad, bad. Appreciating food is fine, making sounds like that though, making his thoughts dance a dangerous dance with deviance, is just evil.
Because that sound, under different circumstances… hhah…
A man of good morals.
His nails dug into his palms so deeply the skin almost broke, threatening to draw blood.
Ping!
Satoru fished his phone out of his coat pocket. It was a fairly new model, blue-ish silver, he never bothered checking the specifics since he just handed Ichiji a large wad of cash last year and told him to get the best one they had available.
Ah, another mission. Two.
Unfortunately, his phone was not smart enough to block oncoming migraines caused by work text messages.
But it was good enough to take pictures. He opened the camera app and looked at his student. Yuuji was chewing on a piece of futomaki sushi.
He looked like one of those adorable baby bunnies eating strawberries from the videos Megumi scrolls through when he thinks no one is peeking over his shoulder. Satoru flicked the silent button on his phone to keep the camera shutter from letting out a click sound, and snapped a photo.
Yuuji gulped down the rest of his futomaki and his eyes slid over and met his. Satoru almost dropped his phone.
“Sensei?”
“O…h, yeah I was taking a photo of the food. I needed evidence so I could brag to Shoko later,” he choked out, placing his phone on the smooth wooden counter and tucking a thread of white hair behind his ear, “Shoko mentioned wanting to splurge on sushi on her next break yesterday.”
“Poor Ieiri-san,” Yuuji huffed, “one of these days, if you ever bump your head on something, Ieiri-san might microwave the ice packs before giving them to you, Sensei.”
Sorry Shoko, Satoru grimaced. She might just do that.
Yuuji picked up the last piece of futomaki and placed it on Satoru’s empty plate. Satoru’s heart burned.
“You haven’t eaten anything, sensei.”
Satoru grabbed the futomaki and promptly stuffed it inside his mouth. It wasn’t as good as the sushi Yuuji had made back then, it was cold, but somehow it was warm.
He closed his eyes and basked.
Something touched the side of his lower lip. Satoru’s eyes fluttered open and he saw Yuuji wiping a grain of rice that was stuck there with a tissue.
“It’s super good, right?” Yuuji shot him a smile after folding the tissue and putting it aside, “Thank you for spending time with me here, sensei. Even when you’re tired from work.”
Tired?
He was never tired, he could easily refresh his brain.
As if reading his mind, Yuuji added, “Not physically.”
How did he know? He somehow always knew.
The missions can wait. Satoru had to find the nearest cardiologist in Shinjuku to cease the illegal hammering his heart was currently doing.
It would be ridiculous if his heart attack wasn’t caused by diabetes. Yuuji’s words weren’t candy, but he utters them so sweetly anyway, his lips pulled into a smile that asked for nothing and gave everything.
Yuuji’s lips were always pulled into a smile.
Even months ago back in the basement, when Satoru snuck up on him with a “boo!” while he was engrossed in a movie starring his cinema darling, Jennifer Lawrence. That smile was followed by a laugh, and Yuuji paused the movie, greeting Satoru with a "welcome back!".
No one ever said that. Not to Gojo Satoru.
Well, except his laptop every time he booted it up to do those godforsaken mission reports.
It made his guts flutter.
And so did every smile from Yuuji that made another butterfly bloom in his gut after that day.
It was wonderful, it felt wonderful.
He didn’t know how he turned into a slime of repressed adoration, only settling for high fives and the occasional headpat when Yuuji did something that made his heart stutter and tilt on its axis.
But there was a line.
And the butterflies started to hurt. The guilt.
Satoru couldn’t cross that line, it was an infinity that even his power can’t reach. Cruel.
Butterflies were truly hostile creatures.
He went home with KFC takeout that day, and two blu-ray copies of Finding Nemo and Finding Dory.
It was a terrible day, really, everyone was being too loud. As added seasoning, it even rained. It didn’t pierce through his Infinity, but it felt like he was being washed up anyway.
Satoru was called to exorcise another Special Grade in Shinjuku. A local politician’s late best friend who was wanted for murder. Apparently the police had been so, so close to capturing him and putting him in jail. Lifetime sentence. And the politician, the caller, wanted to turn him in early so he could pull some strings and lighten his friend’s sentence, but his friend was shot dead during the capture after great resistance, never knowing the real reason why his location was revealed by his own best friend. The heavy feeling of betrayal turned him into an incredibly hostile curse.
Easy.
It only took a few seconds and Satoru was already picking up a phone call from Gakuganji, summoning him for another meeting with the higher ups, after confirming his mission a success. The whole sorcerer thing didn’t come with a mental health package.
Whatever, he got the job done. He wasn’t even that involved in any of his missions anymore, at least not after… not after Riko. Not after Sugu—well, he didn’t care. It wasn’t similar, it was just a coincidence.
He didn’t care. Really.
It was just a mission.
Satoru stepped out of the building and the sky started sobbing.
When he teleported to the basement where he was hiding Yuuji, Yuuji was sitting on the sofa with his knees bunched up in a comfortable position, hugging the sleeping cursed corpse doll Satoru gave him.
His “boo!” was returned with a “welcome back!”, and he threw a peace sign with his free hand, slinging the KFC takeout back on his elbow.
“The great Gojo Satoru is here, to bring fried sustenance and prime entertainment!” he had said, with a grin so wide he would immediately land a spot in Alice in Wonderland.
Yuuji got up from the sofa and took one long look at Satoru before walking over to help him lay the KFC takeout on the coffee table in front. He then plucked the two movie disc boxes from Satoru’s other hand, and placed them beside the food, before running up to him and engulfing him in a hug.
When Satoru asked why he did that, Yuuji simply replied with an “it helps.”
Satoru was alright, really.
His practiced, strained smile was enough to prove a point. Could fool anyone or piss them off enough to not question it. Worked with most sorcerers and civilians.
Ninety-nine percent.
And Yuuji was the stubborn one-percent who dragged him over to the couch, and replaced the Jenifer Lawrence movie on the DVD player with Finding Nemo before plopping down beside him and offering him a chicken crisp. His eyes stung at that, and he was grateful for his sunglasses covering whatever the hell was threatening to fall down.
He had pulled Yuuji into another hug then, with a silent thank you, and watched both movies with him. He later woke up with his student sleeping peacefully with his head on his shoulder, as the end credits of Finding Dory rolled by.
With his Infinity off, his shoulder ached, but it was a good ache. It was painful, but it was caused by the exception beside him.
It was Yuuji.
His soft, soft, pink hair. A magnet for self-indulgent headpats.
The crease in his eyebrows when Satoru stole spoonfuls of cookie batter when he baked cookies in the basement.
The way his eyes twitched with mirth whenever Satoru cussed at the DVD player when it refused to play a movie. His eyes were yellow, they were brown, they were golden.
And his lips, a tinge of red, something even softer.
Satoru wonders what they would be like kissing him bloody.
Soft, soft, and then teeth, incisors sharp, biting, inviting, bleeding, leaving him in a pool of gasps.
Oh, and he would let him. Yuuju is such a quick study.
He is his student, after all. His student.
And Satoru is the worst.
Sick. Sick. Sick.
Diagnosis?
Love, actually.
A terrible disease for a terrible, terrible, sorry excuse for a teacher.
He was.
His guts flutters anyway. And he wants.
Yuuji tapped his shoulder.
“Sorry, sensei, you were spacing out there.”
And Satoru laughs.
“Sensei was just thinking about how horrible the weather was yesterday, Yuu—ji. I might have to watch the news more often, but it’s bo~ring.”
That earned a chuckle from Yuuji, and Satoru clapped his hands together. He loved doing that.
It was the perfect subject breaker.
“Let’s go on a walk!”
Satoru spared the shops that were lining up on the sidewalk a glance. They were mostly clothing boutiques. Yuuji walked beside him, composed, but excitement clearly radiating off him. He still wasn’t used to the bustling metropolis. His wonder was positively viral.
Yuuji kept up the constant small talk, he jumped from subject to subject like a breeze, and Satoru indulged him. There was a cotton candy stand a few meters away, and his eyes caught the distinct pink that reminded him of Yuuji’s hair.
“Say, what do you call a sushi bar trip without dessert, Yuu—“
“Itadori!”
Megumi stepped on the sidewalk in front of them, with a glum expression. His default avatar. Not even skittles could fix that, Satoru mused.
Yuuji shot up an arm and waved at him with a beaming smile, and Satoru saw Megumi’s lips twitch. The dawn of an apocalypse.
“Yo! Fushiguro!”
Megumi made a weird hand gesture of swishing his thumb in what looked like the letter K and pointed back, like a secret signal, calling for Yuuji to come with him.
Ah. Satoru felt a bit left out. He gave a little wave of his own that Megumi was too focused on Yuuji to notice.
Yuuji gave Megumi a double thumbs up and turned to face Satoru.
“Something came up, sensei, I’ll go back to the dorms with Fushiguro later.”
He ran up to Megumi before turning back with last, “Thanks for meal again, sensei. It was great!”
And they both left in a hurry, with Fushiguro grabbing Yuuji by the arm to take him to whatever hole was clearly more important than a nice stick of pink cotton candy.
Like what?
A teenage lovers’ tryst, a secret rendezvous under the moonlight on Lover’s rock? Or something, canyon, cliff, whatever.
Satoru wasn’t bothered. What a beautiful couple. Three cheers for the wedding bells!
Haha..!
His fingers shivered.
Maybe he could lead Yuuji down the aisle, that would be nice. Drink a couple shots to hold himself back from strangling the blushing groom into his life’s end credits. Go to work and go home the next day with a bounty on his head, not that there weren’t dozens already since he was born.
But Yuuji would hurt. And, nothing, no person was worth that consequence.
Yuuji would smile and give everything without asking for anything, and Satoru would just take and take.
There was a line. There was the butterflies.
They were eating him alive and they needed to leave. Pesk spray, something like keeping his distance. Yeah, he could do that.
His heart burned again, and again, a dull ache.
And by some reverse miracle, it started raining.
Absolutely, maddeningly, pouring.
How convenient, why not wash away these sluggy thoughts?
Satoru turned his Infinity off and let the loud raindrops ease the silence. Water dripped from his hair, and he slipped his sunglasses off, staring at, well, nothing.
It was all a blur, anyway. White noise.
‘It was great!’, he said. Having Yuuji’s time of the day, yes. He bit his bottom lip, and let go of his sunglasses. They fell to the concrete ground with a crack, forgotten.
Minutes passed and rain clogged his ears.
He clapped his hands together, startling a passerby.
Time to be a responsible adult and crack open a cold one! Emotional therapy 101. Those two tubs of ice cream have been staying too long in his fridge anyway.
Very cold.
His eyes settled for a calm flowerless hue, and the water continued to drip.