Archive of Our Own ^beta

“The dullest knife just sawing back and forth

And ripping through the softest skin there ever was.”

 

“Do you think I should talk to him?”

“Definitely. It’s not like he’s going to open up to anyone else”, Shoko says while taking a drag.

“I don’t want to intrude on his personal space. He has always been kinda hesitant about that.”

“Caring about someone is not invading their personal space”, she air-quotes the last two words, “There’s a difference between those things.”

“Guess you’re right.”

“I’m always right.”

They have been pondering about Geto’s mental state for a while now. Shoko is smoking her third cigarette and the white-haired boy is finishing his second can of Cola on the rooftop of their dorms. Lately, Gojo is trying his best not to lose sleep over it and miserably failing. He sure doesn’t need to close his eyes and rest, since his technique can easily take care of that, but staying awake means that his thoughts will run on a rampage about Suguru this, Suguru that and he kind of has had enough of it. Not enough of thinking about his best friend, obviously, but about Suguru’s suffering.

The two of them - Gojo and Geto - have been friends for three years and counting now. Gojo couldn’t ask for a better companion. Suguru understands him and sees him as actually someone. A human being with thoughts, feelings and a mind of his own. Not just “the strongest” or an anomaly inside the jujutsu society. They, together, as two seventeen year-old teenagers, entangled in a world that they have no fault for, are a force to be reckoned with. 

Talking to Shoko is always a chore. Gojo doesn’t dislike it, but he doesn’t appreciate it either. He sure loves her, the problem is that she consistently knows what to say. She’s brutally honest and Gojo gets easily annoyed by the fact. How come he - the bearer of the Six-Eyes and Limitless - is being lectured by someone who can’t even explain how to use Reverse Cursed Technique?

Gojo isn’t stupid, though. He takes their conversations seriously and ponders over everything she says. He knows he would be lost without Shoko’s guidance. He wouldn’t even have said anything to Geto in the first place. She was the one who told him to spill his feelings soon or he would lose “his Suguru” to some curse on a random Wednesday and regret it for the rest of his life. The thought of it haunted him for two weeks before he gathered the courage to poorly confess his feelings for his friend on a balmy evening.

(...)

“Suguru, I have to tell you something.”

They were coming back from a mission when Gojo mustered the strength to open his mouth about how he felt. His clothes were covered in dust and Geto’s hair was messy. A few stray strands of hair here and there, but he looked beautiful nonetheless. The late afternoon sun outlined his features in a glowing shade of orange. 

“Go ahead.”

Gojo took a deep, raggedy breath. Now or - maybe - never, he thought to himself. Or to Shoko. Who knows.

Trying his best to not avert his gaze from Suguru’s and blushing a light pink over his cheeks and ears, his tongue played a trick on him and caught Gojo off guard when he said out loud, “I like you.”

Suguru tilted his head like a confused cat, as if that affirmation were obvious. “I like you too, Satoru.”

“No, I mean-”, he stuttered a little, “Not just as friends. I really like you. A lot.”

Gojo felt the world stop for a few seconds before he heard Suguru say anything. At first, Suguru looked puzzled. Genuinely lost. His brows furrowed slightly like he was trying to put the pieces together. Like he was trying to figure out since when, how, why him. Like he wasn’t the one and only option in Gojo’s mind since the day they met each other.

His expression softened. Geto smiled that smile that only he had. Gojo often found himself at the receiving end of it, more times than he would wish for. Delicate around the edges. Compassion in its pure form. Suguru’s way of showing that he understood, yet doesn’t know how to put it into words. 

“Oh, really?”, is what he answered, “That’s nice”. He kept smiling. Was it genuine? Was it damage-control?

Gojo just stared. He wanted to ask “what about you?” “do you feel the same?” “do you like me back?” “are we still friends?” “do you hate me now?”. He waited for Geto to say something else, but nothing ever came out. 

The wind blew, the birds chirped, and Gojo’s heart was racing at an inhuman speed. He wanted to crawl out of his own skin.

“I think we should get going. Yaga-sensei is gonna be mad at us if we arrive late again”, Geto said.

Gojo blinked back into reality.

“Sure. Let’s go.”

They never actually talked about it again.

(...)

He knows that something is off with Geto since Amanai’s passing, and all the shit that went down with Toji and the Time Vessel Association.

Gojo’s kind of dealing with it in his own way: training harder, sleeping it off, making jokes here and there. He only gets to think about everything that happened in the shower, when he’s alone and remembers that this body that he’s in actually died and came back to life. Weird as it might seem, Gojo doesn’t let it faze him anymore. Not as much as it did months ago. He can’t get better at what he needs to if he keeps dwelling in the past. There’s nothing for him there. 

But Geto is different. He’s way more introspective than Gojo. Way more sensitive, too. His heart is too big for him and even though that is something to be proud of, it is also considered a problem when you’re a jujutsu sorcerer. Your companions come and go and the higher-ups demand you to be ready for that, like it’s easy. Gojo sometimes wonders if they forget that the source of power they’re dealing with are literal teenagers. 

Gojo notices that Geto is skipping some of  their training sessions. Notices that he shuffles with the food and doesn’t eat when they are having lunch. Notices that he has enormous eye bags under his eyes. He notices everything, he just doesn’t know how to approach the matter. He offers a gentle grin, a concerned look, and Geto accepts it, even smiles back in a way that tries to come across as reassuring, but Gojo knows better. 

Gojo has tried to ask what’s going on a few times. Maybe not as straightforward as he should have been, but did it anyway. Geto avoided the question in multiple circumstances, gave as many excuses as he could, said that it was the summer heat, that he was tired from the previous missions, that he couldn’t sleep properly the night before. And Gojo ate them all up, yet didn’t believe in any of them. 

That made him feel sad, if he’s being honest. They have always been extremely open with each other, secrets were never a thing between them and their cards were always on the table. Even though Gojo understands that they are no longer fifteen and the circumstances have changed - goddamnit, he died and Geto watched a child being killed in front of him -, he doesn’t quite want to accept the fact that Suguru is actively choosing to keep things from his so-called best friend. 

That’s why he decides to change, to do something before it’s too late. Shoko said that Geto wouldn’t open up to anyone else and, at the same time that it flatters him, it’s also a fucking commitment. He’s sort of the only one who can do something about the situation AND maybe, hopefully,  get a response out of it.

Gojo can almost feel Shoko peeking at him - she’s on the other side of school - when he stands in front of Geto’s dorm door. He didn’t see him yesterday, neither got an answer to his frenetic texts. He feels a weird sensation down his spine when he clicks the door open. Geto used to never lock it, but now he has to use the spare key given to him in “case of emergency” to open the thing.

(Fortunately, there was never an emergency. All that Gojo ever used it for was to break in and steal food from Suguru’s refrigerator while he was out.)

The sight in front of him is dreadful. Geto’s room is as neat as always: if not for some clothing on the ground, everything is put into place. Books organized by genre, his band posters on the wall don’t have a single folded edge on them and the place smells nice. Smells like Suguru. But there’s a curled figure on the bed, tangled between the sheets, looking so, so small for someone who’s 6 feet tall and it’s almost 4PM.

 It’s the middle of the afternoon, still Geto looks like he didn’t even try to get out of the mattress. Gojo doesn’t know if he’s awake or has noticed his presence at all. He is facing the opposite direction, so he can’t really tell, which is making things difficult, cause Geto didn’t even flinch since the minute Gojo entered his room.

He feels the air escaping his lungs and a sudden burn makes its way into his chest. It’s excruciating to see the person he cares about the most like this. This is not the Suguru he knows, nor the Suguru he fell in love with, but Gojo will try to dig as deep as he can for any remaining pieces of that boy with the amiable yellow eyes and tender smile.

“Suguru?” 

A beat.

Suguru doesn’t move, but Satoru can see his back inflating and deflating as he breathes. He gets a few steps closer.

“Suguru?!” 

Still nothing but light snores and deep breath. Gojo decides to sit on the bed and shake him as he speaks louder this time, “Suguru!”

Finally, a sign of life. Geto moves delicately, as if each movement were demanding a grotesque strength from his being. His long black hair is tangled with the remnants of his sleep: marks from the pillow and a faint rest of saliva in the left corner of his mouth. His eyes are swollen, Gojo can't tell if it's sleep or crying from the night before, and they blink heavily as they process the sudden clarity of the room. The curtains are closed, except for a slight gap between them.

He rubs his eyes. “Satoru?”

“Wakey- wakey.”

“What time is it? Why are you here?”

“It’s currently 4 in the afternoon. I’m here cause I thought you died. Why aren’t you answering my texts?”

Geto’s expression could be translated as the personification of a question mark. “I was sleeping. Kinda obvious answer.”

“Yeah, no shit.” He tries to be polite for a change, “Anyways, good morning.”

“Morning, Satoru.”

Gojo finds Geto’s knee somewhere in the sheets and absentmindedly starts to draw circles on it. Geto follows the movements with his gaze, sometimes switching from Gojo’s fingers to his face and so on. They stay like this for a few minutes. 

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay”, Geto looks out the window. He’s avoiding eye contact. Gojo wants to grab him by the shoulders and beg for him to be honest at once, but he doesn’t. “And you?”

“Better now that I’m seeing your face”, he wiggles his eyebrows in an ironic attempt at flirting. A light joke won’t hurt.  

Geto laughs through his nose. He looks drained. Satoru could approach the problem right now, but he’s afraid of scaring Geto away and losing grip of this moment. He will go slow, like he always does with Suguru. 

“What are your plans for today?”, he asks.

“Me? I don’t have anything planned. I wasn’t even supposed to be awake.”

Gojo winces a little. That’s harsh to hear.

“Hmmm, so I am ruining your plan to sleep the whole afternoon?”

“You could say so.”

“Not sorry at all.”

“I figured”, Geto says, “but I like having you here.”

“Do you?”, Gojo answers instead of asking ‘So why are you avoiding me like the plague?’

“Yeah, but don’t let that get to your head. Don’t get proud.”

“Oh, that’s a pity! I was going to text Shoko right now about it!”

Geto chuckles. Gojo’s heart heats up as he fixes his posture on the bed. It’s been a while since he last heard the sound. They see each other almost every day and yes, one could say that not listening to your friend’s laugh for a couple of 24 hours is not a big deal, it’s just that every minute spent away from Suguru feels like years to Satoru. Especially now that he’s there in person, but his mind is lost somewhere Satoru can’t reach. 

Gojo is sitting in the middle of the mattress and Geto rests his back on the headboard. 

“How’s she doing?”

“Who? Shoko?”

“Yes, Satoru. She’s the only girl we’re close with.”

“Oh. She’s fine. Worried about you in her own way.”

Something shifts.

“Why are you all worried about me?”, Suguru says with a defensive, yet accusatory tone at the same time. His eyebrows are slightly furrowed. If he were a feline, his claws would be threatening to come out.

Gojo won’t buy this crap again.

“Suguru, are you really doing this right now?”

“Doing what?”

“Fucking acting like nothing is wrong with you!”

“Why are you suddenly mad?”

“I’m not mad. I’m tired. I care about you and you refuse to be looked after. Shoko and I don’t know what to do anymore.”

It’s clear that Suguru is hurt. From the way his eyes darken and his shoulders shrink, Gojo can tell that a tremendous storm is arriving in the harbor of his best friend's heart. Geto just faces the ceiling for a few seconds, looks around the room and takes a deep breath when, apparently, he gains the confidence to look Satoru in the eye and talk. 

“‘I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

“Sorry for being weird these last few days. I know I’m distant. It’s just-”, he bites his lip, “It’s not on purpose. I don’t wanna hurt anyone.”

Gojo reaches for his hand and, for the first time in a while, Geto doesn’t let go. The bed heat makes him feel warm and fuzzy. Gojo wishes he could see more of this version of him.

“I hope you realize that you hurt us more when you isolate yourself.” 

“I know that, Satoru.”

Fractions of minutes go by.

“Everything sucks without you.”

Geto chuckles. He squeezes Gojo’s hand tighter.

“I miss you too.”

“So talk to me. Tell me what’s troubling you”, Gojo pleads. 

Geto sinks into the mix of sheets and blankets, stretching like a cat that's slept too long. Suddenly, Gojo misses the warmth of their intertwined hands. Lifting his arms to stretch causes Geto’s shirt to raise slightly, but fortunately the blankets block the full view and Gojo thanks the gods that there is nothing to be seen there. 

“Can’t we just stay like this?”, Suguru asks.

Satoru’s brain shortcuts. One week ago, Suguru was refusing to hang out with them at any chance he got. He locked himself in his dorm room, saying he had to study for a test that wasn’t even real. Geto can make a fool of himself sometimes, and he’s also a shitty liar. 

Now he asks Gojo to stay. And on top of that - to make things worse -, they’re on his bed. He’s all sprawled, welcoming, looking calm as if no thoughts have ruined his day yet, and Gojo yearns. His head goes on loops about how many ways this could go wrong for both of them. But he doesn’t let the thought get the best of him and puts it aside.

“Are you inviting me to a cuddling session?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Oh boy, I’ve missed those.”

Gojo takes off his shoes while Geto adjusts himself to make room for two bodies. The bed is not big, but it has always fit both of them. Gojo lost count of how many times Geto lectured him about not eating chips on it cause it would attract bugs. There are also their moments of silence, shared only between the two of them. Suguru usually reading some boring book about philosophy on one side of the bed, while Gojo devoured the last volume of some manga he found at the last minute at the library on the other end. Sometimes they would touch feet and exchange looks. Geto just smiled. 

They don't do it as often as they used to anymore.

Gojo rushes toward the bed, Geto gives pats on the mattress for Satoru to sit beside him and so he does. It’s warm and comfy, the total opposite from the chilling bottom of his stomach and its weird twists and turns. It gets worse when Suguru loops his arms around Satoru’s waist and rests his head on the other boy’s chest. He can feel Geto’s deep breath, a choky sigh of relief, and Gojo is terrified of him being able to hear how loud his heart is beating.

“Isn’t this position going to hurt your eyebrow piercing?”, the question is the first thing Gojo fishes in the one hundred thousand thoughts by second that are running through his mind.

“Oh, not at all. It’s already healed.”

“Hmm.”

“By the way, do you like it?”, Geto indulges.

“Yeah, it looks great. Makes you look sharp. I think you should get one on your lips next time”, no, he doesn’t. That’s bound to be a great problem for him.

“Dude, I’ve been thinking about it too.”

“Great minds think alike.”

Geto laughs a light laugh and nuzzles on his chest. Gojo decides that it’s time to stop being so afraid of his best friend’s affection and offer it back to him. He caresses Suguru’s long black hair and twirls the edges on his fingers, then goes all the way up and does it again. 

After a while, Satoru feels bolder, so he runs his hands throughout the whole length. It smells great like sandalwood, woody and sweet at the same time.

“Hmmm, feels good.”

Oh, shit .

“Glad you’re enjoying it”, thank God Geto is not looking at his stupid flushed pink face right now.

Having Suguru vulnerable like this feels so odd. It takes Gojo back to a time where nothing had happened yet. No Toji, no fucked up cult. They were just two teenagers fighting curses weaker than them and being called “the strongest”. Nanami was less grumpy than he is now and Haibara had a life ahead of him to be lived. Shoko’s smoking habit wasn’t as awful as it is, too. How can fate be so cruel to those with no power over it? 

The sun starts to find its way to the other side of the globe when both of them get bored of what they were doing. They have gone back and forth about movies, music, Yaga’s love life and what they saw in class today. Sometimes, Goto would nourish some old memories and ask Geto if he remembered when they did this, or when they did that.

“Of course I do”, he would answer, “We were together.”

They stopped it when the feeling of nostalgia started to turn into a heavy burden on their shoulders. Time can’t be rewinded. The future is uncertain. Suguru and Satoru wrapped the conversation before joy gave room to lament.

Being together with Suguru after so many days apart is comforting. Even though he can still see the dark circles under his eyes or how his figure is getting bonier, it is still the Geto Suguru Gojo loves and admires. He’s still here and there is still something to be done. 

It never occurred to Gojo that he could find someone to hold on to like this. Someone to care about, someone to be his first thought in the morning and his last before falling asleep. Someone who keeps him up at night wondering if they feel the same way. Someone who makes him look at them before saying anything because he doesn’t want to let them down. Someone who, after all, makes him change.

That someone is here. It’s Geto Suguru and he’s resting his head on Gojo’s thighs right now, talking about a weird bug he saw the other day. Gojo tries to focus on whatever he is saying about exoskeletons, but Geto’s lips are pink and glossy, and they still slightly puffy from sleeping too long. He follows every move they make, every vowel and consonant is hypnotizing. 

Geto stops talking.

“You’re not even listening, are you?”

“Huh? Yes, I am!”

“What did I just say?”

Gojo tries to come up with something clever, but doesn’t. “Sorry. Got distracted.”

“Hmpf”, Geto snorts. He rolls his eyes like a petty child. 

“Don’t be like that”, Gojo twirls one strand of Geto’s hair on his finger, “I know how to make it up to you.”

Geto looks at him. There’s suspicion hiding behind his expression. He frowns his eyebrows like he’s expecting the other boy to say something ridiculous. 

“Why don’t you go take a shower while I make us dinner?”

Suguru stops. Confusion makes room for affection. Gojo doesn't know if he's really blushing or if it's just a trick of the light. Deep down, he hopes it's the former. He hopes he is the reason why Geto remains silent for a few seconds, pondering and running his gaze over Gojo's face, before articulating words.

“Am I stinky?” 

The tension building up in Satoru’s guts goes away. He laughs.

“Yeah, you smell like a dead possum. It’s really bad.”

“What the hell?!”, Geto stands up, now facing Gojo directly, “Fuck you.”

“I’m just saying you have to shower, man.”

“What about you? You were all over me the whole afternoon! If I have to take a shower, you should come along, too!”

Gojo's eyes widen as he stares at his friend. It takes Geto a split second to understand and process the implications of what he has just said. He turns pale before reddening violently. Both their faces are so hot it could burn to the touch.

“I- I will go”, Geto stutters shyly before dismissing the conversation, getting up and going to the bathroom. 

“Wait!”

“What?”, he says by the door.

“Can I use your kitchen? Like, can I cook for you?”

“If you make sure it is edible, yes”, he closes it without waiting for Gojo to bounce back. 

So, there Gojo is. It’s Suguru’s small kitchen and everything resembles him. The boy is everywhere: from the gray ceramics and cat shaped fridge magnets, to the drawer full of ten different flavors of tea and a few cans of soda that he stocks for when Gojo comes over. 

The sun is long gone, but it still finds its way to Satoru. His face brightens at the sight.

There is one problem, though. Gojo can’t cook for his life. He knows how to make noodles and to fry eggs. That’s all. He always had someone to do these things for him since he was a child. But he really wants to do it, to give something to Suguru beyond headaches and stolen glances. He gets his phone and searches for the easiest recipe he can do with his lack of ability. 

The shower is running. A soft smell of soap starts to fill the air.

Gojo sticks to fried rice with stirred eggs and some fresh vegetables that Geto had lying around his fridge. He’s always had healthier eating habits than Gojo. If someone opened his own fridge right now, all that person would find would be a half-empty Cola bottle, leftovers of a strawberry cake, chinese takeout and ice-cream. 

Geto is taking a while, so he’s probably washing his hair, which means Gojo has a decent time to try to come up with an actual good meal. He starts to (try to) cook his magnum opus .

After messing with the pan and doing what he needed to - following instructions all the time so he doesn’t burn his crush’s kitchen down -, Gojo learns that it isn’t that hard. 

He’s almost done setting the table when he hears the bathroom door opening. Footsteps are heard so Gojo raises his head from what he’s doing to meet them. What he sees is something that will be carved into his mind forever and surely haunt his wildest dreams. 

His trembling hand just points and his voice comes out dryly when he speaks, “Since when do you have nipple piercings?!”

Suguru’s hair is dripping wet and he has only a towel covering his lower body. His imponent figure rests against the door frame. He almost looks unaware of the effect he has over Gojo if not for the faint smirk appearing on his face.

“Oh? You didn’t know?”

“N-No, I didn’t.”

“Should I have shown them to you sooner?”

What the fuck? , Gojo thinks to himself. He feels his guts turning into puddles. An avalanche of uninvited scenarios crosses the boy’s mind and he just wants to shake them off as soon as possible before they make him embarrass himself in front of Suguru.

“Why did you- Why? Doesn’t it hurt?”

“Why are you stuttering so much?

“Shut up. Answer my question.”

“Damn, okay. It does, but it’s also very cool”. He softly brushes his fingertips over the piercings, caressing the cold pieces. Suguru looks up to Gojo and tilts his head. A vulpine grin. The air surrounding him is heavy. “Don’t you think?”

Inside his head, Satoru tore his hair off, ran laps, climbed through the walls, chewed cement and drank straight up gasoline. In reality, he just took a deep breath and tried to focus on Suguru’s eyes instead of his naked chest.

“I think you should put some clothes on. Dinner’s ready.”

Suguru chuckles, “Can’t wait to try it.”

Geto leaves the kitchen and Gojo wonders how he’s still alive after what he just witnessed.

He comes back wearing that oversized white t-shirt that Gojo once joked that is going to start walking on its own two legs from Geto’s excessive use, and boxer shorts. It’s just the two of them, anyway. His hair is still damp, but combed. 

Satoru is waiting for him at the table.

“So, what did you do?”, he says as he pulls the chair and sits.

“I tried- emphasis on that - to make fried rice.”

Suguru averts his gaze from the plate and cutlery. He looks at Gojo straight in the eye, the corner of his lips going upward and his cupid bow disappearing. 

“My mom used to make it all the time when I still lived with my parents.”

Gojo’s chest flutters, “Really?”

“Yeah. She was always working, so it was an easy meal.”

“Cute, but thanks for downgrading my efforts, you bitch.” 

“What?”, Geto frowns, “Ah! Shut up, I didn’t mean it like that!”

“I know, I’m just playing with you”, Gojo moves his hand as if to shush the conversation, “Anyway, let’s eat before it gets cold.”

Geto wastes no time grabbing a full spoon of the dish and so does he. Gojo waits for Geto to get the first bite, though. He wants to see his reaction. At this moment, the upcoming test they have two weeks from now is nothing compared to what Suguru thinks of his cooking skills. 

Geto eats. Gojo is drumming his feet on the ground with an expectant look on his face.

“This-”, he chews, “This is actually pretty good…”

“Oh, thank God!”, Gojo releases the sigh that he was holding back, “I didn’t try it.”

Geto pauses with full cheeks, “The fuck?! How come you cook something and don’t try it as you do it?”

“I forgot. You started eating and I just hoped for the best.”

“You really are something.”

“I get that a lot”, he messes with his fork and knife and finally gets a bite too.

For a while, all that could be heard was the clack, clack, clack of the cutlery and distant voices somewhere in school. One plate was enough to satisfy Gojo, but Geto had two good portions of fried rice, eggs and vegetables. Satoru waits for him to finish with a distant look in his blue eyes, head resting on his right fist. Suguru truly is the most beautiful. 

“Satoru”. His name dances on Suguru’s lips. 

“Huh?”

“Thanks for this.”

“Oh.”

“It was very heartwarming.”

I don’t know what to say, he thinks.

As if reading his thoughts, Geto just continues. 

“I’ve been eating pretty poorly these last few weeks. Noodles and stuff, when I’m alone. Things that don’t take much effort. It feels nice to eat properly after a while”, he smiles softly and his eyes look like crescent moons. 

Gojo is the strongest, yet now he feels… Defenseless. The boy that he loves, soon to be a man, has so much power over him. Suguru could take anything and everything from Satoru. But above all, he wishes that one day Geto will take his heart and claim it as his to keep.

“Suguru…”

Geto reaches for his hand on the other side of the table and intertwines their fingers. His hand, bigger and stronger than Gojo’s, feels smooth after showering. 

“Satoru?”

“I just want you to feel better.”

The grip on his hand gets rougher. 

Stillness.

“Talk to me, Suguru.”

Geto inhales and exhales. Gojo can’t read his expression. 

“Will you tell me what’s going on?”, he pleads one more time.

He lets go of Satoru. Both of Suguru’s hands rest on his lap as he stares at the ground.

“I don’t wanna talk about it”, Geto’s tone is direct. Objective. Cold.

“When will you talk about it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Suguru, please. We can’t help you if you don’t allow us to.”

“I never asked for help, Satoru.”

Gojo opens his mouth to say something, but decides otherwise. That’s true, Suguru never asked for help. Gojo is the one who’s losing his mind over his best friend’s wellbeing. He tries again.

“You don’t need to. There are signs.”

Geto looks up. His eyes are dark and foggy. A raging tide that's useless to swim against. The sweetness of the dinner is long gone now. “Listen, I appreciate what you’re doing, but I’m really not ready. Leave me be or leave my house.”

Gojo feels his whole body freeze. Geto had never been this harsh with him before, not even when Satoru tormented his nerves to the max. Something has definitely changed. But worst of all, this unexplainable feeling is turning Geto into someone he's not. At least, not someone Gojo is familiar with. 

Gojo retreats. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

Silence. 

They don’t look at each other. 

“I’m gonna smoke.”

“I’ll do the dishes.”

Like that, they part ways. Geto goes to the balcony and Gojo cleans the mess he made on Geto’s sink. At least he didn’t kick Gojo out.

While washing the dishes, Gojo musters the boldness to steal some glances at Geto. The chilling night air is messing with his hair, the black strands are all over the place, but the school lights make his face lighter. Ghostly, even. His sharp features are enhanced by its gray shining. He looks unreachable. The boy’s gaze is somewhere far away and the cigarette smoke is dancing in the wind. Geto takes a long drag. His arms are resting on the balcony as he looks down. He spends so much time just staring at whatever is underneath them that Gojo starts to worry about it. What if he’s… No, he wouldn’t, Gojo thinks.

In the beginning, when Shoko sneaked her first pack of cigarettes in, Gojo hated everything about it. The smell gave him headaches all day long and stung to his clothes. She called him a killjoy multiple times until he gave up on telling her that she would look ugly and die sooner than him. 

Something shifted when Geto joined her, though. He still didn’t like the smell, but he had to look more mature towards Suguru. Gojo terribly tried to think that cigarettes were cool and sexy and badass and shit, especially after he saw Shoko lightning one up for Geto. Her fingertips were so close to his lips… He felt a weird mix of jealousy, disgust and desire at the sight. 

In the midst of it all, Gojo tried to smoke one once, which went miserably awful. He coughed for 2 minutes straight while Geto and Shoko laughed like hyenas at his face and offered water to calm it down. He swore to never do it again. 

He shakes those memories away when he’s done organizing the kitchen and Geto comes back from his private time. 

The black haired boy closes the door behind him and scratches one of his feet as he says, “I was just thinking, do you want to watch a movie together?”

Gojo turns his head from where he’s standing and faces Geto. He looks more alive now in the warm yellow light of the living room, no longer a spectral figure.

“Don’t you think it’s a little bit late for that?”

“No. I’m free tomorrow morning. Are you?”

If there’s anything important to be done, Gojo forgot. “Me too.”

“So… I don’t see a problem”, he shrugs softly.

“Okay, let’s do it, then.”

Gojo goes to the bathroom to wash his hands while Geto turns the TV on. He comes back to Suguru lying all over the couch, browsing through some movies and taking up most of the space. Sometimes, Gojo needs to be reminded that even though he’s taller, Geto is much broader than him. 

“And where am I supposed to sit, asshole?”

“Oh, sorry”, he moves his legs and makes space for Satoru to sit beside him, “Come here.”

Gojo sits on the sofa, as he has done countless times before, but something seems strange this time. He can't tell if it's the remnants of the previous disagreement he had with Geto at the dinner table, or the fact that they're sharing an intimate moment like this again after weeks of radio-silence. It almost feels wrong, as if Gojo himself shouldn't be there. 

He can feel Geto's feet moving against his thigh at times and it makes him hyper aware of the environment. Suddenly, Geto’s body heat is a bit too much to handle and he can hear the water drops from the kitchen sink and the wind outside is howling and the couch is a itchy and-

“Satoru, what do you think of this one?”

“Huh?”

“This movie. Wanna watch it?”, Geto looks at him as if he’s seeing something behind Gojo, or through him. His eyes look drowsy. And then comes the realization that perhaps Geto wants to stay up late so he can sleep as soon as he lays his head on the pillow. No thoughts, no reliving bad memories, just slumber. 

Gojo has done it many times before, trying to entertain himself with whatever he could find so ghosts from the past couldn’t catch him and mess with his sleep. 

“What’s the genre?”

“I guess it’s romance or some shit like that. Drama involved and stuff.”

Gojo frowns in surprise, “You? Romance?”

Geto frowns back, “Yeah? What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing. Just didn’t peg you for the romance movie type of guy.”

“Just because I let you choose the movies we watch all the time doesn’t mean that I actually enjoy the Godzilla franchise, Satoru.”

“I know that you’re not as cultured as me, Suguru”, Geto rolls his eyes at the phrase. Gojo continues. “But couples kissing right in front of our faces? For everyone to see? Kinda lame, if you ask me.”

“Fuck off. I’m a bit soft hearted, if you don’t know.”

Oh, Gojo knows. He really does. He knows it way too well. In fact, Gojo also wished that he could kiss Geto for everyone to see.

“Whatever, play it. If it sucks you owe me an ice-cream.”

Geto clicks the controller and the movie starts. In the first few minutes, Gojo doesn't see anything that might interest him. It's the same old thing: a straight couple finding trouble not to get together. He yawns and wonders why people spend their time and money on these things. 

Geto, on the other hand, seems extremely captivated by the plot. His eyes are fixed on the screen and his eyebrows are slightly furrowed, paying attention. Gojo thinks he's cute. He also wonders if Geto has ever liked someone like that. A girl, maybe. If he's ever wanted to sleep cuddled up to her. If he's ever played with her hair. If he's ever held her hand in a crowd. If he's ever kissed her as if he wanted to merge the two bodies. If he's ever- 

Gojo feels a heat rising in his chest. His eyes begin to burn and the air escapes from his lungs. He wants to cry. He stares at the ceiling and bites his lips to hold the tears back. Gojo feels pathetic. Shoko calls Geto “his Suguru”, but he isn’t his . Suguru is a handsome boy, with a kind soul and polite manners. Everyone loves him, Gojo is no exception. He is not special. He sees the way girls look at him when they pass by. He notices every attempt at flirtation when Geto is paying for something and the cashier seems a little bit too friendly. He knows the way that the stranger's shoulder bumped into Geto’s was intentional.

Geto doesn’t belong to Gojo. There’s a piece of him in everyone who ever looked at him. He’s in their memories, in their conversations, on their phones. Geto is not someone that Gojo created inside his imagination, even though he's a personification of everything Gojo ever wanted. He belongs to the world and Gojo fucking hates that. He’s always had everything he asked for, why can’t he have Suguru all to himself?

He’s so immersed in his thoughts that it takes a while for him to notice that Geto is resting his head on his shoulder now. Gojo doesn’t know when he changed positions, but he’s not against it at all. He can sense the faint smell of Suguru’s shampoo and feel his soft skin touching his forearm. Their breaths meet and synchronize. 

“This male lead is stupid”, Geto says.

“Why?”

“It’s so obvious that she’s in love with him, but he doesn’t do anything about it.”

Ha. That is funny.

“Ah yes, very stupid.”

The movie keeps playing and Gojo is wondering when is it gonna end. Why do they make romance movies so long?

Time goes by and it’s over.

“Thoughts?”, Geto asks.

“And prayers. Hated it.”

“You didn’t even pay attention. I saw you drifting out.”

“That’s because it wasn’t interesting! That’s the reason.”

“You’re such a pain in the ass, Satoru.”

“And you have a shitty taste for movies.”

“Says the guy who only watches stuff with loud noises and blood dripping from the screen.”

“Got a problem with that?”

“I just think it’s weird that in your free time you entertain yourself with stuff that we deal with on a daily basis. You should try something different.”

Gojo pauses. Geto hit a tough spot. 

Silence falls upon them.

“I’m sleepy”, Suguru plays with the hem of Satoru’s shirt, “Wanna go to bed?”

That’s the last thing Gojo expected to hear. After so many attempts at pushing him and Shoko away, hearing Suguru asking him to stay the night was not even top 10 on his list. 

“Already? You slept until 4PM today.”

“Doesn’t matter. I feel like I’m going to pass out at any given moment.”

“Okay, then”, he feels butterflies on his stomach. Suddenly, they are fifteen again sharing one bed on a mission to another city and Satoru can’t wait to feel Suguru’s warmth invading his space and listen to his sleeping noises again.

They do what they have to and go back to bed. Geto didn’t make it, so they just crawl to its comfort and fit themselves between the sheets and pillows. Gojo is wearing Geto’s clothes now, since he came here wearing just his regular school uniform. It’s larger than his figure, but does the trick anyway. There’s a subtle smell of cotton fabric softener surrounding them and the moon shine casts a soothing air to the bedroom. Gojo doesn’t want tomorrow to come.

“Are you comfortable?”, Geto asks.

“Yes, more than in my own bed.”

He chuckles, “Silly.”

“It’s true! I feel like there’s always something gripping on me when I sleep there.”

“It’s the bed bugs. That’s what you get for being lazy and not washing the sheets often.”

“Haha, very funny.”

“I mean it.”

“Yeah yeah, shut up, Suguru.”

“Just saying.”

“Weren’t you tired? Why are you still talking?”, Gojo says.

“Cause I enjoy messing with you. You get nervous easily. It’s fun.”

Gojo stares at him in disbelief. Fucker.

“I’m done with you. Good night, Suguru.”

Gojo turns to the other side of the bed and leaves Geto laughing behind him. They've been staring at each other all this time and Gojo thinks something has been altered in his brain. Having Geto near his face like that always puts him in a difficult position to regain his posture. He closes his eyes, waiting for sleep to come.

“Satoru”, Geto calls him again, but now it’s a whisper.

“Huh?”

He feels a hand reaching out for his shoulder and resting there, “Look at me.”

Gojo turns to face him one more time. Geto’s cheeks are blushing a little in that discreet way it has. He looks like he’s holding something back, eyes heavy with something that Gojo can’t quite pick on. 

“What?”

“Thanks for staying”, he says, and his voice is like honey. It’s steady, low and has a hint of that roughness of someone who’s about to fall into slumber, but most importantly, it’s soft. 

Gojo melts, his heart’s so full of love that he might do something stupid right there and ruin this moment.

“I had a great time”, he keeps going, “I missed… this”, he draws a pattern on Gojo’s chest. 

Satoru holds his breath and bites his tongue. Suguru’s face is inches from his. Slowly, his ribcage starts to feel too big for his body and every limb is like it’s on fire. His throat goes dry and his tongue betrays him like on that warm evening, but he’s more honest this time.

“I love you, Suguru.”

Geto inhales. He smiles and his eyes look like pools of pure gold. “I know, Satoru.”

In a hesitant way, he runs a hand over Gojo's neck and gently tucks a lock of white hair behind the boy's ear. Satoru can see that he’s shy by how his eyebrows are looking down in a puppy kinda way. Satoru loves it. But he starts to get closer. He’s getting closer and closer and closer and suddenly, Gojo’s world is turned upside down.

Without a word, Geto places a tender, swift chaste kiss on his lips. It’s so quick that Satoru doesn’t even have time to react properly or, for God’s sake, kiss him back. Maybe this was what Suguru was going for. He always knows how to sweep Gojo off his feet, anyway. Gojo’s breath is caught in his throat as he feels the softness of Geto’s lips against his.

The black haired boy pulls back. He looks like a scared cat, apparently surprised by his own doing. Avoiding eye contact at all means, he offers Gojo only glimpses of his ruby red face before saying a rushed “good night” and turning to face the other side of the bed.

Gojo grips the cushion like it were his heart. He keeps staring at Suguru's back as if it will give him the answer he needs. His breath is still a little ragged from what happened and there's nothing he can do about it but wait for tomorrow to come and maybe ask Geto to help him put the pieces together. For long minutes, he even loses count, Gojo just picks on every detail that he can find. The shirt now slightly crumpled, the way raven hair falls on the pillow, a neck discreetly exposed. He tries to distract himself with various thoughts, but they all come back to the boy with whom he shares a bed and, earlier, shared a kiss. 

Do it again, do it again, do it again, he chants to himself - wishes- as he closes his eyes and falls asleep. 

Morning comes fast. Satoru doubts that he even slept at all. He rubs his eyelids and stretches the long arms that the Gojo genetics gave him as the environment welcomes his body in again. It takes a few seconds for everything to come back to Satoru: realizing where he is and remembering what happened before he drifted into slumber.

He’s in Suguru’s bed.

They kissed last night. It was a peck, but a kiss nonetheless. 

He taps Geto’s side of the bed and feels that he’s not there. The sheets are still warm, so he probably didn’t leave too long ago. His heart aches.

“Morning.”

Gojo follows the sound and lands his eyes on Suguru who’s in the kitchen with a cup of tea in his hand. He looks like he didn’t get any sleep at all, heavy eyebags and small eyes painting his beautiful features. Gojo can sympathize since he didn’t get much either.

“Good morning, Suguru”, he says back.

“I know I always tell you this, but you snore a lot.”

“And you fart, so we’re even.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

Gojo notices that the sun isn’t high in the sky. They left the window open, so it’s chilly inside the dorm, too. 

“What time is it?”, he asks.

“It’s early. 8AM. I was just tossing and turning on the bed so I decided to get up already”, Geto takes a sip from the tea cup, still wearing the white shirt and boxer shorts.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

“Not much, to be honest.”

“Me too.”

Gojo really wants to ask him if he lost sleep because of last night's kiss, but he knows that, although it could be one of the causes, there is something much bigger haunting Suguru and ruining his health. It's the reason Gojo broke into his room at 4pm yesterday and stayed until 8am this morning, after all. He holds back the urge to bring it up and gets off the bed.

“Did you have breakfast?”

“Not yet, I was waiting for you to wake up so we could eat together.”

“Aw, that’s cute”, Satoru says in an amusing tone. 

Suguru raises his index finger as a warning, “Don’t even start.”

“Aren’t you glad that I’m here so we can enjoy this quality time together, Suguru~~?”, Gojo comes closer to where he’s standing in the kitchen and loops an arm around Geto’s neck.

“Back off, Satoru, you have morning breath!”

“You’re sooooo boring.”

“And you’re annoying.”

“Ah, you know you love me.”

Gojo realizes the mistake he has made. Last night, he had said something similar that he definitely wouldn't have wanted to remember now. Geto seems to have realized the same thing too, as he continues to stare at the cup and doesn’t answer Satoru’s joke. A certain awkwardness arises between the two and Gojo removes his hand from Geto's shoulder. He doesn't want to make things more fragile than they already are, since Gojo still needs to get Geto to open up his heart today.

Geto dismisses the conversation, “I’ve set the table. Suit yourself.”

“Thanks, I sure will.”

They both sit in the same chairs as they did at dinner yesterday, the morning light filling the room with a different feeling than last night’s. It's familiar, warm, comfortable. He, Shoko, and Suguru always used to have breakfast together in the school's shared cafeteria, and Satoru was pleased with the happiness that came with it, but being alone with Suguru in this way, as if the world was just theirs, is priceless.

They settle for toast and some hibiscus tea.

“By the way, I would like to start the day saying that I’m sorry”, Geto says out of the blue.

“Actually, you started the day saying that I snored”, Gojo corrects him.

“Shut up, I’m being serious.”

“Sorry”, Gojo moves his teacup forward as if to encourage Geto to keep talking, “Go on.”

“Sorry for being rude with you last night. I didn’t mean it. I mean, you were really stressing me out, I’ll be honest with you, but I shouldn’t have spoken to you the way I did. I know you were only trying to be nice.”

Geto is a very composed boy who’ll grow into a very respectful man. He always says he’s sorry and has no problems acknowledging his mistakes. The total opposite of his best friend, Gojo. Maybe that’s why Satoru isn’t surprised by the apology or why he didn’t even get mad yesterday, because he knows Suguru enough to understand that he wouldn’t hurt him like that on purpose. He was just distressed. 

 “I know. It’s okay, Suguru.”

“Is it really?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Thank you”, he offers Satoru a smile. He still hasn’t tied his hair and the long black locks are framing his face like the most exquisite painting at a museum. Gojo stares a little bit too long, engraving the sight inside his memory.

“You’re my best friend, man. It’s alright”, Gojo smiles back. A wide one, teeth and gum, all displayed. 

Geto chuckles. 

“And, as your best friend, I think I owe you the explanation that I have been avoiding to give.”

“Oh, you’re gonna say it now?”

“If you still want to hear it, if I haven’t worn you down…”

“Of course I want to hear it, Suguru. Don’t be stupid. Please, tell me.”

The black haired boy inhales deeply. His shoulders look heavy. 

“You’re gonna hate me.”

“I’m pretty sure I could never do that”, Gojo answers. It’s his heart’s plain truth. 

“It’s just that-”, Geto averts his gaze, “This world is not fair.”

Gojo tilts his head, “What do you mean?”

“Ever since Amanai died I just keep thinking about how our society is unbalanced and all that bullshit about protecting the weak.”

“Bullshit? That’s what you always believed, Suguru. You smacked me in the head because of it once, remember?”

“That’s not the point anymore, Satoru. Non-sorcerers, the so-called ‘weak’, are the source of their own problems. Do you understand?”

Gojo isn't following his train of thought, but Geto's demeanor announces that there's more to come, so he just waits and listens.

“I-”, he trails off, “How did you feel when you held Amanai’s corpse in your arms?” 

He doesn’t like to remember that. The cold white room, all those unknown faces clapping as if there was something to be celebrated in that chaos, and the way he felt nothing . Such an enormous emptiness that felt so terribly heavy. An engulfing, despicable feeling that Satoru prays to never witness again. Sometimes, in the dead of night when it’s all quiet - yet not peaceful - he swears he can still hear the sound of that agonizing applause.

“I would like to not recall that day, please”, he says.

“Unfortunately, I recall it all the time. Could you imagine it?”

“I wish I could change that, Suguru.”

Geto messes with a spoon, eyes vacant, “I want to get rid of this unfairness.” 

“How would you do that?”

“I spoke to Tsukumo Yuki. She has a similar point of view.”

Gojo is very confused and his eyebrows are proof of that. He looks pathetic, to say the least.

“Sorry, I really don’t get what you’re saying.”

He stops and looks Gojo dead in the eye. That raging storm again.

“I want to create a world with only jujutsu sorcerers.”

“What the fuck?!”, he accidentally burns his tongue with the hot tea.

“I knew you would react like that.”

“Yes?! Cause that’s nonsense.”

“It is not, Satoru. Bet you could do that.”

“That’s not what my powers are for. You taught me better than that.”

Suguru just stops. A hint of light inside his pupils.

“I’m just so, so tired. Aren’t you?”, Geto crosses both his hands in front of his face and stares down. Suddenly, and very quietly, Gojo starts to hear irregular breathing and sees… tears. Suguru is crying.

Satoru never saw him cry before. This is totally new ground and he doesn’t know how to react. He’s not very emotionally intelligent himself, he’s been trying to deal with the same emotions Geto is struggling with and also came out of that battle empty handed. Only now that Gojo is regaining strength and moving on.

“Suguru?”

“I don’t wanna do any of this anymore”, Geto brings both fists to his eyes and lets them rest there. Tears continue to stream down his face, his skin is now a little redder than usual and the inevitable sobs begin to appear. He is miserable.

“I understand”, Gojo tries to comfort him.

“You don’t.”

“Believe me, I do, but this isn’t about me.”

Geto peeks at him, red eyes meet blue. Gojo really wants to hug his friend, but also wants to let Geto have his moment to let it all out.

“Suguru, what can I do for you right now?”

“Hold me, please.”

Gojo jumps at the request. He doesn’t even think twice before getting up and leading Geto to the couch where they can have more space to themselves. Satoru opens his arms, welcoming Suguru’s body heat and holding him tight.

For minutes, they just stay like that. Geto with his arms wrapped around Gojo’s waist and face buried in the space between his nape and shoulder. He can feel his shirt get soaking wet, and his skin hot from Geto’s breath and hiccups. 

Gojo keeps patting his back, his hands moving from Geto’s neck to his low back in slow motion. Once in a while, he strokes his hair, as if to reassure that he’s still there. He will always be there, for as long as Suguru lets him be.

“I don’t think-”, Geto sniffs, “I don’t think people understand how unbearable it is to have my cursed ability.”

His head is resting on Gojo’s shoulder now, facing the opposite way.

“I’m sure it’s very difficult… Having to swallow curses like that…”

Satoru can feel Suguru’s lung inflating and deflating against his chest. It's labored breath. The grip on Gojo’s waist grows stronger. He hugs Geto back.

“Don’t you ever wish to leave this place?”

“Sometimes, but it’s hard to think about it.”

“Why?”

“Because jujutsu is all I have ever known.”

“Ha…What a life we’re living, huh”, Geto scoffs.

Gojo places his lips at the top of Geto’s head. It’s not a kiss, but something similar. Geto disarms a little, body going softer as the muscles relax. Silence embraces the two of them.

“I have an idea”, Gojo shares a thought.

“Say it.”

“What if we finish this year, since it’s only a few months away, and ditch it out?” 

Geto raises his head to face Gojo for the first time in a while. The expression on his face is a mix of doubt and hope.

“You mean leave Jujutsu Tech?”

“I mean leave the jujutsu world, Suguru.”

Geto opens his mouth, then closes it. He opens again and closes one more time. Gojo notices that he’s having trouble formulating thoughts. He must really have taken Geto aback… Honestly, anyone would have a reaction like that. The great “Gojo Satoru” talking about not being a jujutsu sorcerer anymore? The thing he’s predestined to be? His only purpose in life from birth? Absurdity.

“Now you’re just babbling, Satoru.” 

“I’m not. I mean it.”

“You can’t be serious right now. That’s-”

“That’s what I’m meant to be? Is that what you’re going to say?”

Geto bites his tongue, eyes uncertain, “Yes…”

“I’m done with that. Been done with that for a while now, to be honest.”

“So… You really wanna do it… Leave everything behind…”

“Yeah. I don’t know how, but we can figure it out.”

“We?”, Geto asks.

“You’re coming with me, aren’t you?”

“Oh, yes I am.”

He finds Gojo’s hand and holds it. Their fingers intertwine with no effort, as if they were meant to fit together perfectly. In that moment, time seemed to stand still as they gazed into each other's eyes, lost in the silent exchange of affection.

“I really want to kiss you again right now”, Suguru says.

Ah, so he remembers what he did.

“Please, do it.”

At first, it is innocent. Geto is just as hesitant as Gojo is. He’s placing chaste kisses on Gojo’s lips, as if waiting for a green light to keep going. Gojo does the same, too. And it feels good, great even, but Satoru has waited so long - three fucking years - for something like this to happen that he won’t settle for just this . Even though it’s amazing, it’s not enough.

He opens his mouth wider, inviting Suguru in and, apparently, Suguru gets the message ‘cause his tongue finds its way inside and Gojo squirms. The simple feeling of their tongues touching makes his body shiver with want. More, more and more . He just knows that he’s pink all over his face and shoulders and ears and chest. He can’t get enough of Suguru.

After a while, Suguru licks his mouth, which catches Suguru so off guard that he lets a moan out. It’s quiet and reserved, but Suguru heard it by the way his dark eyes got bigger and his body contracted a little. He stops what he’s doing and Gojo just gawks at him like a fool with eager eyes ready to give up on everything to keep doing it forever.

Unexpectedly, he grabs Satoru’s face with both hands and places a kiss on his forehead, then moves on to the tip of his nose and, finally, his lips again. 

Gojo and Geto are both beet red when they look each other in the eyes again. There's a whole butterfly garden inside Satoru's stomach. He doesn't know if he'll be able to contain them any longer.

“Are you sure about what you said earlier?”, Geto cuts through the silence.

“What?”, Gojo is caught off guard. He just kissed him, why is talking about it again?, “Yes, I am.”

“But… Shit will still happen.”

“Shit happens everywhere all the time and no one does anything about it, Suguru.”

“Aren’t you going to feel guilty?”

“Not at all. I just want to see you doing well cause I’m reaaaaally selfish. Ain’t that what you always call me?”, Gojo says, his tone slightly amusing.

Geto looks at him as if he were one of the seven wonders of the world. Looking at his reflection in the other boy’s eyes, Gojo questions if that's how he looks at Geto too. Out of nowhere, his friend laughs a hearty laugh. It fills the room the same way that it fills Gojo’s heart. Geto’s eyes close again like crescent moons and his cheeks blush. He looks happy. Gojo is with him and Geto is happy. Satoru is afraid that he will be the one to cry now.

Suguru tucks his head into the crook of Gojo’s neck one more time, inhaling a sharp breath and nuzzling his nose there. Gojo shivers.

“Satoru?”

He could listen to Geto calling his name over and over and over and not get tired of it. It sounds so gentle when he’s the one saying it. 

“Huh?”

“I love you, too."

"For all the air that's in your lungs

For all the joy that is to come

For all the things that you're alive to feel

Just let the pain remind you hearts can heal."