Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

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Chapter Text

CW: Mention of past suicide and blood

The sound of glass breaking is what gathered the entire Itadori family on a sunny afternoon in mid-June. Peace had laid upon the house for an entire week, a well-needed break from the usual chaos and thunder. A reality far too good to last any longer as trouble had just entered through the front door. Because unfortunately, trouble came with two legs…and now apparently face tattoos.

“What have you done?” Their dad still held out his hand as if the glass he had carried didn’t lay scattered beneath him in a million pieces. He was most likely blissfully unaware of the hazard below him.

“Dad don’t move,” Choso said. The scene made him nervous, to say the least. Not only were the chances of this escalating to a full-blown fight very high (which would be very not good on such flooring), but to make matters all worse, Yuji had just entered the kitchen. And if there was one thing about Yuji, it was that he was an expert at getting hurt. Everything from falling off his bike, walking into road signs, slipping with a kitchen knife to getting punched in the face in school. The kid was a walking accident and the extremely high pain tolerance didn’t help his case. 

Choso put out an arm to stop him from entering the danger zone. Yuji gave him a profound look.

“Yuji, there is glass on the floor,” he said but was only met with brown eyes growing impossibly large. With his eyes fixed on his newly returned older brother, he displayed such admiration that Choso couldn’t help but admit he was jealous. 

“Woaaaaah!! That looks so cool,” he exclaims. Choso didn’t have to turn around to see that Sukuna rolled his eyes at the comment. Yuji adored his older brother. Well, his other older brother. The one who never missed an opportunity to beat him down, both physically and mentally. How Sukuna with all his hate, had managed to get himself on top of Yuji’s pyramid, far above Choso and his neverending love, was something he probably would never understand. 

Perhaps it wasn’t something he would ever learn to get used to either. Yuji exited the womb looking straight through Choso at every chance of catching a glimpse of his similar-looking sibling. Thankfully, their similarities stopped at the pink hair and muscular bodies. Either way, Sukunas's opinion was the only opinion that mattered to him, which was a very problematic thing.

“Tattooed my face,” Sukuna answered his dad whose jaw still accompanied the shards on the floor. Choso turned back around, switching arms to block Yuji. Sukuna still hadn’t moved from where he had been standing when Choso came running to catch the ruckus. He was leaning against the door frame to the kitchen, arms crossed over his chest in a defensive manner, and his travel bag dropped on the ground next to him. It has been a couple of months since he got his arm tattoos. Even then Choso thought their dad would have a heart attack. Heavy black lines that now squared off his son's face would definitely take years off his life.

“Why would you do that?” their dad spoke in an exhale. He sounded short on breath. Perhaps Choso should call an ambulance, just in case. 

“Cause I wanted to. Got a problem with it?” Sukuna huffed. He stood back up and stepped foot in the kitchen, carefully trailing along the cabinets creating maximum distance between him and the shards.

“You ruined your face…” Choso could see Sukuna clench his jaw at the words and he stopped again.

“You didn’t care when he -” Sukuna points at Choso with his entire arm. “-got his piercings. You even went with him to the appointments. Then you are fine with it?” He shouts. “Is it because he is depressed??”

The words steal Yuji's attention away from its usual target. He glances over at Choso in what almost looks like worry. 

“You’re depressed?” he asks. It’s a genuine question that Choso doesn’t know what to answer. Lying to Yuji isn’t something he wants to do.

“Your mom would cry, you know that right?” There is a certain sorrow in their dad’s voice. One that always seemed to follow him every time he spoke about her. Which, despite that, was surprisingly often. 

“Good, that’s what she gets for fucking killing herself,” Sukuna snarks back coldly. He speaks the words staring him down as if it’s his fault. Sukuna is generally very good at that; directing fault where it doesn’t belong. 

“Hey, why would you bring that up right now?” Despite the assertiveness in their dad’s tone, he keeps his demeanor calm. Choso commends his father on this; how well he handles Sukunas spews and aggression. On the contrary, Yuji visibly shrinks as he stands beside, but half a step behind, Choso. He turns back to look at him. They meet eyes for a split second before Yuji turns his head around but it is long enough for Choso to see how glassed they look. 

“Me?? You were the one bringing her up in the first place!” Sukuna starts to wave his arms around. It’s a habit of his that Choso always found peculiar. Over the years he came up with a theory that it was his way to flick away some of the access rage. Because believe it or not, he used to be a lot worse. He takes a step towards his dad and Choso watches his black socked feet sink into the torture floor. “Because you realize that is all she is to us, right? Fucking dead.” 

And with those words, he walks off.

“I’m going out,” Yuji says, and before anyone can react he is in the hallway putting on his shoes. How he managed to bypass the glass, Choso has no idea of.

“I’m coming with you,” he calls after him. Yuji stops in his tracks. Without looking back he replies.

“No Choso, I want to be alone,” Seconds later, the front door closes behind him.

Between Sukuna leaving footsteps of blood behind him, their dad being trapped on a deserted island surrounded by a sea of piercing objects, and a Yuji that just stormed out the front door, the choice of who to attend is obvious. 

The back of Yuji’s yellow shirt is all Choso gets a glimpse of as he rounds the house at the corner of their street on Sukuna's old bike. He wastes no time throwing himself into their dad’s rusty old bike to follow him. It squeaks as he exits their front yard and begins to tail his brother. His oversized jeans get caught in the mechanics every time he pumps the pedals. It slows him down but stopping to roll up his pants would do so even more. 

Choso rounds the same corner. Admittedly he knows that he has no chance of catching up with Yuji. The kid is a prodigy, blessed with physical strength that shouldn’t belong to anyone his age. It comes with its pros and cons. Knowing he is physically capable is usually something that eases Choso’s mind. He knows Yuji can take care of himself if he needs to. Then there are times it worries him. Like the spring of 2011 when Yuji went with a broken arm for two whole weeks without telling anyone. That can hardly be normal for an eight-year-old. But perhaps it isn’t to be blamed on his physical abilities or pain tolerance.

They were a complicated family. A very complicated family. First error; all boys. Second error; Sukuna. Third error; dead mom. The third just happened to be the reason for the rest. Sukuna didn’t use to be like this, at least from the little Choso can remember. He recalls being very fond of his older brother. Like any younger sibling, he would assume. Despite the small age difference of little over one and a half years, Sukuna had seemed big, strong, cool, and reliable to him. Someone to lean on, affectionate even. But perhaps that’s just something his mind has made up to cope.

Yuji is nowhere to be seen. Choso feels his heart pound in his chest and it’s not the biking’s doing. He worries for Yuji. Constantly. Well, perhaps not when he is right in front of him and he can tell that he is happy. Choso’s therapist says it’s something he should work on, that these tendencies might be driving Yuji further away from him. Choso doesn’t like to think about that.

He rides to the closest park they have. It holds a lot of precious (and not-so-precious) memories for him. Everything from making sand castles with Yuji to their dad trying to convince another parent not to call the police on a seven-year-old Sukuna that had managed to put a stick through the hand of another child. Needless to say, Choso is selective about what memories to repeat in his mind.

When he notices movements behind one of the playhouses he breaks abruptly, creating skid marks in the gravel, and almost falling over in the process. The noise catches the attention of the mother and the child who were playing together behind the small facade. The mother gives him an angry look and it’s all it takes for Choso to take off again. 

He hates upsetting people. It happens quite a lot. Sometimes it’s because he says something wrong, or doesn’t say anything at all. Sometimes all it takes is for people to take one look at him for a frown appears on their faces. He used to upset his mother too. That’s about all he remembers about her. Angry eyes and hands that pulled away at his touch. In hindsight, it was probably just because she was sick. 

Postpartum depression. A word that arrived many years too late. First, too late for their dad to understand the severity of the situation and have a chance to prevent it. Secondly, too late for Choso and his brothers to grasp that there was a medical explanation for what had happened. It’s been thirteen years since she died. Thirteen years of an angry Sukuna, thirteen years of a teary-eyed father, the entirety of Yuji’s life. Choso sometimes wonders if Yuji remembers anything. He wouldn’t, right? He was just a baby. 

Overall, Choso is convinced he himself was the least affected by her death. After all, it was Sukuna who was close to her. Choso was always closer to his dad. Still is. 

He takes a detour around the neighboring block and scans the scenery for any yellow shirts. It’s surprisingly few people out. The sun is starting to set just above the horizon but the air is still warm. If not for the situation, he might have found a nice spot to sit down for a bit. Enjoyed a silent summer evening dipped in orange.

A thought hits him as he approaches the end of the last street. What if Yuji went to his school? It wasn’t that far away and although they were all on summer break, it wasn’t uncommon for Yuji to go there and use the outdoor sports area with his friends. The point is, it’s a familiar area for him. Comforting perhaps.

If schools could be comforting.

When he arrives at the school he does so without the guidance of the sun. It won’t take long before it’s completely dark and a knot ties in his stomach. He fiddles with his pockets only to realize that his phone remains at the end of the charging cable in his room. 

Crap. He really wished he could call and ask if Yuji had come back home. He doesn’t like the idea of him being alone after sunset.  Along with swallowing that reality, Choso gets off the bike and props it up against the gray building. There is something about places that are so heavily associated with people, human activity, being all silent and empty. It’s eerie in a way that you can’t find ways to describe. As if it becomes inherently wrong in that state. He shakes off the feeling together with a chill that runs up his spine and decides to waste no more time.

The school grounds aren’t that large. Or rather there aren’t that many places that keep you out of sight. Choso calls Yuji’s name a few times just in case but he realizes fairly quickly that he probably isn’t there. Once he has made sure of that as well, he is left divided on what he should do. It’s getting late and he knows he should head home. At the same time, is it really okay for him to give up looking for Yuji? Because what if he is still out somewhere? Lonely, cold, and sad.

He starts to slowly move back to the place he parked the bike whilst dwelling on the decision he would have to make. 

“Perhaps Yuji needs to feel like you listen to him? Give him space and he might find the exact spot he wants and needs you in. Relationships go two ways Choso, it’s always a compromise between your own and the other person’s wishes.”

Yuji wanted to be alone. Yuji knows Choso is more than happy to listen to and be there for him at any given time. Yuji is his own person and has the right and ability to decide for himself. Choso knows all this but it doesn’t change how he feels. It doesn’t stop him from entertaining the thought of ‘what if’. He sighs.

Choso is back at the front of the school again. He squints his eyes to make out any bike-like silhouettes. It’s dark but not dark enough to hide such a thing. The gray cement surface reflects enough for him to realize that the bike is gone. His heart starts to beat fast. 

No, no no. Dad’s bike. 

Whipping his head around he tried to catch sight of it, or of anyone who might have taken it. He takes a sprint around the school again, holding on to the hope of having been confused about where he put it. But as he comes back to the same spot again he has to admit to himself that it’s no longer there. 

Shame and guilt bubble up within him. With a breath hitched from the run, he stands still to try and calm down. He has stopped moving, his breathing should slow down. Yet it doesn’t. Neither does his heart. Choso realizes that he didn’t even ask for permission to use the bike. He just took it and now it’s gone. 

It’s paralyzing. His mind gets stuck on trying to find a solution. A thousand threads of loose ends swarm his mind and he finds himself unable to grab a single one. They pull away in rejection and leave him feeling like the world has fallen apart. He can’t think. 

Tears well up in his eyes. Sobs escapes the mouth he forces shut with everything he has. Choso doesn’t want to cry but it’s unavoidable. It always is. The shame that comes with it puts his legs into motion. They start to walk, out of the school grounds onto the road that is going to take him home. How far could it be by feet? 45 minutes? Perhaps more. 

Walking is grounding. Redistributes energy and movements that otherwise would have been consumed by tears and hulking. He finds his breath again and sobs turn into sniffs. Choso tries to recall the closest bike shop. Should he go there right away? He didn’t bring any money though. When his dad meets him, will he say it’s okay and look at him with a tired smile? 

Choso mistakes the first few raindrops for the tears that are still streaming down his cheeks. It’s by no means a heavy rain that showers him, but it takes no time for his clothes to be soaked. There isn’t another human being in sight by now. Everyone is hopefully dry and warm inside their homes. Choso thinks about Yuji again. He better be at home by now. If Choso comes home to find that he is still out he doesn’t know what he will do. 

He shivers. The shift in temperature together with being wet is making it feel like it’s not summer at all. He pushes his draping, soaked bangs out of his face and tries not to think too hard about the situation he has put himself in. It sure looks pathetic but Choso has no regrets.

Yuji has been precious to him from the moment he was born. He has just always been the perfect little kid, a bundle of joy, too kind for his own good. Loyal, courageous, compassionate, funny, sweet. Just the best, to put it simply. Choso treasures him. He thinks everyone should have the chance to have such a precious younger brother. One you would do anything for without a second thought. Even if it made you end up pathetically wet and outside alone in the dark. 

A single source of light comes into his view. It’s approaching him in his path and Choso finds himself squinting again to see more clearly. He hears nothing so it couldn’t be a car or a motorcycle. He contemplates jumping into the ditch next to the road but figures it’s too late, whoever is approaching must have already spotted him. Then a thought hits him; what if it’s Yuji? As the distance between them decreases Choso realizes that it is not only a bike, but that bike. He calls out his name.  

“Yuji!” The bike stops, the light attached in the front blinding Choso a bit but he takes a few leaps forward to close the distance completely. 

“It’s just me. That brat came home an hour ago.” Sukuna says. Now that Choso is on the other side of the light he sees the face of his older brother. Having forgotten about the new lines on his face he almost doesn’t recognize him at first. He looks more intimidating than usual in the dim light. And rather funny on a bike. Choso has no time to think about that though. He feels himself relax at the words Sukna said. Yuji is home. Tension is released from his body and it opens the drain from his eyes again. He drags his hand across his cheeks and under his nose as if isn’t already as wet as he can be. 

 “Why are you crying??” As much as Sukuna sounds annoyed it’s a sincere question. “Are you that worried about that idiot? He is fucking fine. The brat is even making dinner for you.” The statements don’t help with the overwhelming feelings but Choso does his best to gather himself anyways. 

“Someone took dad’s bike,” he manages to say in between wiping wet against wet. Sukuna furrows his brows. They share a moment of silence and Choso starts to prepare himself to be yelled at. 

“Did they hurt you?” Sukuna says, eyes studying the state of his brother, trying to piece together the situation. Choso shakes his head. 

“No, I didn’t see them. It was just gone.” He ends with a hitched breath and Sukuna sighs. He seems to have relaxed a bit and as the anger leaves him Choso realizes that he is dripping from the rain too. 

“I’m sure dad will manage without a bike. He hasn’t used that old shit for years.” Choso tries to recall if he is telling the truth but realizes it doesn’t change his feelings of guilt. Sukuna nods towards the rear rack. “Hop on Cho, let's go home,”

Chapter Text

The small room smelled like coffee. It was a familiar and calming scent. Choso couldn’t make up his mind whether it was a method to do just that; calm clients down, or if Geto simply liked having coffee. Either way, he had never seen him drink it. But perhaps that’s not something therapists should do. 

“Please, have a seat,” Geto gestured toward the armchair opposite his own. It was Choso’s third session today. He still wasn’t the most keen on the idea of therapy. His dad had physically pushed him through the door each time, making it a point to make sure his son actually attended the sessions they had agreed on. As embarrassing as it was, Geto seemed to pay it no particular mind. 

Choso had to admit; Geto was actually alright. Upon first sight, he had seemed quite intimidating. Tall, dark long hair, big earrings. That was before Choso realized that it was a description that fit himself as well, and he had always hated people making assumptions about him based on how he looked. As it turns out, Geto was simply a man with a placid smile and calm energy, nothing to be scared of. 

Choso sat down in the appointed chair. Or rather sunk down into the soft fabric. It was one of those chairs that embraced you, held you in a hug almost. So far the chair might be his favorite part of therapy. Geto got seated in his chair too.

“Choso, how are you feeling today?” he began. Choso took a moment to study the man. In a way, his appearance was contradictory. He looked sophisticated enough to be a therapist but troubled in a way. His idea of a therapist had always been one of someone a bit removed from emotions. Distant enough to stomach listening to other people’s problems all day. Geto wasn’t like that. Under the glasses he wore were tired red eyes and it had made Choso question how competent he really was. 

Well, it wasn’t like they had a lot of options. Choso’s dad had searched far and wide for a therapist who was going to work throughout the entire summer. He thought it was important for Choso to do this continuously for things to…not get bad again. Just when he only found one a two-hour train ride away, Geto had put out a notice that he would be bookable this summer. Choso was thankful to exchange the long train ride for a 10-minute car ride. 

“I’m doing okay,” he replied. Geto waited him out a bit, as to give him space to elaborate. Choso didn’t know what else to say so he sat quietly.

“And this past week, how has it been?” The first two sessions had been to ‘just get to know each other’. Choso thought it was an unfair saying since it was only him who got to say things about himself. At the end of the last session, Geto mentioned that therapy would start for real now. 

“Sukuna came back home.” He began. Geto nodded for him to continue. “He has face tattoos now. Dad wasn’t happy but Yuji-” he interrupted himself and Geto gave him an eye. 

“Go on,” he encouraged, flashing him a faint smile. As much as Choso wanted to leave the subject, he wasn’t good at ignoring people’s requests. 

“He thought it looked cool I guess.” He ends up muttering. 

“And you?” Geto asks. He placed one of his hands in the other and leaned forward slightly. Choso doesn’t have to think too hard about what to answer.

“He looks stupid. But I don’t care that much.” He states quickly. The words make Geto smile a bit and he leans back a bit again. 

“But you do care about Yuji’s reaction.” It wasn’t a question. Neither does Choso feel like it’s something he can argue. “Could you tell me how it made you feel?”

He thinks really hard about the question. Why does it actually feel so bad whenever Yuji compliments or is affectionate with Sukuna? It’s not like it never ever happens with him. Is it jealousy? As long as Yuji is happy, nothing else should matter, right?

“I don’t know,” is what he says in the end. Geto smiles a bit again. 

“That’s okay, we’re here to discuss and figure things out, right?”

Geto approaching topics regarding his relationship with Yuji is making Choso feel uneasy. His words and his authority feel like a threat. He will never understand his feelings for Yuji. How much he cares. How much he needs to take care of Yuji. Instead, he will probably just look at him weirdly and present a bunch of studies arguing that Choso is doing things wrong. But Geto doesn’t know anything, and those studies aren’t based on their family. 

“Actually, today I thought he could talk a bit about childhood. Would that feel okay?” The question takes some tension out of Choso. Any way to swap from the topic is good. 

“Yeah,” he agrees. Geto pushes up his glasses and gives him a pleased look.

“You told me before that you have anemia and spent some time at the hospital,” Choso nods, he remembers telling Geto in the first session when asked to briefly give him an overview of his life. 

“Do you remember the first time you got sick and had to go to the hospital?” He asks. Choso tries to recall.

“Only a bit,” he admits. Geto gives him an understanding look.

“That’s okay. Could you tell me about it?” he asks.

“It was right after mom died.”

“Dad, I don’t know what’s wrong with Choso.”

“Yeah, he has fainted three times today.”

“No, no fever or anything.”

“He never has an appetite…”

“Yes, they said to wait. But I feel like this could be urgent.”

“Wait, he is having trouble breathing again.”

“Dad, the whites of his eyes are blue.”

“Please come over, I need you to watch Sukuna and Yuji.”

“Yes, I’m taking him. Please hurry.”

“I remember being injected with a needle and getting blood.” Choso had hated the sight of blood ever since then. It wasn’t the fact that the needle was scary or hurt, more the feeling of blood that had been in a bag going into your body. It had always been bizarre to him, even though he understood it better now. Geto listens attentively.

“That sounds pretty scary for a little boy who isn’t even four years old,” He says tilting his head to the side. 

“It was alright. Mostly it was boring. I had to stay for an entire week the first time.” At least according to his dad, it had been a week. It had felt a whole lot longer though. When he first got sick he needed multiple sessions of blood transfusions and hospital stays were a regular thing. 

“Being so young and right after your mother’s death, it must have been tough for you,” It’s an assumption but Choso can tell that Geto is studying him for confirmation. His eyes burn through him and Choso turns in his seat. 

“It was a bad timing. When I came home Sukuna hated me. He has hated me ever since I think.” It is a perplexed look that slips out of his therapist for a moment before his composure is back. Choso wonders what it was about. 

“What makes you think that he hated you?” he asks. Choso gives it some thought.

“I’m pretty sure it was because I took away attention from mom’s death and their grief.”

“Weren’t you grieving too?” he questions. Choso shrugs. 

“I guess. But you asked why I thought Sukuna hated me. Don’t you think it had something to do with that?” Choso looks up at Geto. He meets his eyes and visibly inhales. 

“Possibly. But my personal theory is something else.” He reveals, accompanied by a small smile. Choso waits for him to continue.

“What is your theory?” He asks when he gets too impatient. 

“I think he was scared.” Choso is taken aback by his words. Sukuna scared? Sounds like a joke. 

“Scared? But he only seemed angry?” he questions. Geto gives him a small nod. 

“Well, anger is a very common secondary emotion to fear. It comes from the desire to gain control over a situation in which they feel out of control. Although it can be a destructive one, it’s a natural response. There is even a biological reason; you see, one of the hormones released when we get angry is also released when we get scared.” He gestures with his hands as he explains. Choso listens and tries to understand. Geto waves his hands a bit. “Sorry, I’m going off. My point is that the emotion that reaches other people isn’t always the one we truly feel.” 

Choso tries to put himself in those shoes. He was seldom angry he thinks. But what comes to mind are the times when his love comes out as worry and how it annoys people. When he thinks about it like that he can somewhat understand what Geto is saying. But something still doesn’t make sense to him. 

“I still don’t understand, why would he be scared of me?” he asks. Geto smiles at him bigger.

“Not scared of you, scared of losing you.” Choso frowns. 

“I wasn’t that sick.” He argues. Geto readjusts in his seat. 

“You were sick enough to need medical care, to be away from the family. And you all had just had a parent get sick and leave forever,” he explains. “Having his mom and then his little brother disappear most likely made him feel very out of control.” 

“But then why did he tell me he wished I would have died too? That doesn’t make sense to me.” It’s with sad eyes that Geto looks at him. He swallows. Choso swallows too. 

“Unfortunately, emotions don’t care whether they make sense or not.”

In the car ride back home Choso cries. His dad stops at a small street a couple of blocks before their house and hugs him. When he is asked what’s wrong he can’t find the answer no matter how hard he thinks about it.

Chapter Text

CW: Mental breakdown 

“I’m proud of you for going to the sessions Choso,” They had been standing still for almost a quarter now. Jin rubbed a small circle on Choso’s shoulder whilst he dried the last of his tears. There wasn’t anything that should be making him sad. Initially, his dad had thought something had happened during the session and the questions had been endless. After a lot of reassurance and the knowledge of how terrible of a liar his son was, he accepted that the emotional wave came from something else. 

“I don’t know if I’m doing well in it,” Choso admits. It’s a guilt that was hard to let go of. He wasn’t even sure what was expected of him during therapy, let alone if he was living up to that.

“Don’t you worry about that,” he reassured with a smile. “He is there to help you, so don’t put so much pressure on yourself, okay?”

Choso’s phone buzzes. He pulls it out of his pocket and reads the text on the screen. 

Nana 16:48:

Where the hell are you?? Didn’t it end 45 minutes ago??

“Who was it?” His dad asked. 

“Just Sukuna being angry that we aren’t home yet,” he replies. His dad smiles at him. 

“Well, we better get going then since he is so worried,” he says and starts the car. Choso thinks for a moment as the car starts rolling. The phone buzzes again. 

Nana 16:50:

Why did you leave me on read???

“Were you joking?” he then asks. He watches his dad carefully, seeing how the confusion dawns on his face. He glances a look towards Choso. 

“When?” he asks. 

“With Sukuna being worried.” The car enters their street. 

“Of course not,” he replies as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Choso scrunches his eyebrows. His dad must sense his skepticism. He smiles, still eyes on the road. “All three of you worry a lot. You get it from me I’m afraid.”

He pulls into the driveway and Choso spots both his brothers peep through the kitchen curtains. Sukuna ducks away in an attempt not to get caught while Yuji waves enthusiastically. Upon seeing him Choso can’t help but smile and he waves back. 

It’s the smell of freshly baked buns that hits them when they step through the front door. Choso feels his stomach growl and he pops his head into the kitchen. Yuji is in the midst of cleaning the kitchen after his baking session. He is still wearing the apron and it’s full of flour. 

“Oh, you boys baked together?” Their dad asks hopefully. 

“As if,” Sukuna mutters from the living room. Choso glances back at him and he is met with an angry look before Sukuna returns to look at his phone. 

Deciding to ignore that brother he steps foot into the kitchen. 

“What are you making Yuji?” He asks softly. Yuji turns to him and smiles. 

“Cream buns,” he says, holding up the recipe book for Choso to see. Yuji had been cooking and baking since he was ten years old. It was never something he was obligated to do, he was the youngest after all. It was just something he really enjoyed. Once their dad had told Choso it was his way of taking care of the rest of them. His love language. 

“I’m making one batch for you guys and another one for my friends,” he continued and gestured towards the basket on the countertop filled with golden buns. 

“What makes you think it’s okay for you to give away a bunch? Dad paid for those ingredients you know,” Sukuna shouts from the connecting room. His comment makes Yuji frown. 

“You should always share food, that’s the whole point of it,” he shouts back. 

“Sukuna, you could just say that you want all of Yuji’s buns for yourself. There is no need to pretend to be cheap,” their dad chimes in. Judging by the lack of response from Sukuna, Choso guesses their dad got the finger. Either way, he just smiles. 

“Where have you been?” Yuji asks. He looks up at Choso with anticipation. It ties a knot in Choso’s stomach. It wasn’t like he had tried to hide the fact that he went to therapy from Yuji. But for the first two sessions, Yuji had been out both when he left and returned so there had been no opportunity for him to find out on his own. Lying was absolutely out of the question too. Especially when Yuji was smiling like that, with his full attention directed at Choso. 

“At therapy,” he answered and regretted it immediately. He can tell that Yuji tried to hide it. How he forces his smile to come back. But his eyes tell a different story. 

“So it’s true?” he then asks. “You are depressed?” Sad. It’s the emotion that manages to slip through his eyes. Choso gulps down the feeling of guilt. The last thing he wants is for Yuji to think of him as an unreliable older brother. To let him down again. To make it harder for him to lean on him. 

“Yes,” he still replies. Yuji turns his gaze away. 

“I see,” he says with his back against his brother. 

Choso wakes up at 2 am with his bladder full. It’s not unusual for him to wake up several times during the night, either to pee or because he dreamed something bad. He throws his legs over the edge of his bed and begins to make his way to their bathroom. All three of the brothers share the top floor, each having their own room, and at the end of the corridor, a small bathroom. Before renovating the upstairs office into a bedroom, Choso and Yuji shared a room. It was Yuji who pushed for the renovation. Had it been up to Choso they still would have probably shared. 

On light feet he tips towards the bathroom, careful not to wake anyone up. He pulls the door open and is immediately hit with a strong light. He blinks a couple of times to get his eyes used to it. It is then that he realizes that there is someone else in there. Without more thought, he is about to apologize and turn his back on whoever’s privacy he just invaded, when he spots his makeup bag on the toilet seat. 

It had been about a year since Choso started experimenting with makeup. It sort of came with the want to get piercings and change style overall. By now it had almost become routine to wear the pink or purple eye shadow and a bit of eyeliner, at least when going to school or going out. 

Therefore, it’s pride that floods him when it dawns on him that it’s Yuji who stands in front of the mirror, almost as close as one could be, with his eyeliner in hand. He would have never guessed that Yuji wanted to try such a thing, take after him in that sense. Choso wishes that he would have come to him. That he could have taught him how to apply, how to avoid smudging or getting it in your eye. Despite the missed opportunity, the joy fills his every joint.

It is in the middle of a smile growing on Choso’s face when Yuji realizes he is no longer alone. Choso sees him flinch before freezing. When he slowly turns around it is with a look of pure horror. Choso’s first thought is to embrace him, erase that emotion from his face. Tell him it’s okay, that it’s just him. Reassure him. That’s before he realizes that he has misjudged the situation. Because on Yuji’s face are thick lines along his jaw, over his nose, and on his forehead. They stand in silence, just staring at each other. 

“I-I can explain,” Yuji manages to say.

It was Choso’s expectations that became his downfall. The complete shift in emotions. He finds himself unable to comfort his brother. Instead, it sucks him dry of the compassion, leaving only the gut punch to sting. If the tattoos had looked ridiculous on Sukuna, it is in no way comparable to how it look on Yuji’s young soft-featured face. He doesn’t look like him. And he shouldn’t want to look like him. When he feels the first tear on his cheek he turns on his heel and runs back to his room. 

He slams the door shut and locks it just before Yuji catches up. He pulls on the handle a couple of times. 

“Choso, I’m sorry! I should have asked if I could borrow it,” he hears the panic in Yuji’s voice. “Please, open the door,” It is seldom that Choso reacts this way in front of Yuji. It is seldom he shuts him out like this. Yuji is still profusely apologizing on the other side of the door. With only himself in the space of his own room, no Sukuna-looking-Yuji to carve at his heart, he is forced to come face to face with only his own feelings. The feelings of betrayal and disappointment from the scene, but also the guilt and shame of having shown it and caused Yuji to call for him with a voice that is starting to fail him. 

It’s vibrating in the room. Suffocatingly tense and like any movement will cause a laser beam to shoot from the wall and burn him, all whilst having the biggest urge to jolt his body. He can’t stand hearing Yuji. Choso’s hands come up to cover his ears, the clap causing them to ring. Feeling his skin against his own only further triggers his grim disgust for himself. It becomes unbearable. It all becomes unbearable. 

He needs to get out, run from this feeling and from himself. But Yuji is still outside and jumping out the second-floor window is a mistake he only will allow himself to do once. There is no way out, yet he desperately seeks a door. With tear-blurred eyes and a chest that feels impossibly tight, he reaches for the door to his closet. Choso steps into it and closes the door. It becomes dark. He can barely hear Yuji anymore. 

But it’s not enough. It’s at this point that the rage starts to kick in. It floods him uncontrollably. He would strangle himself if it meant keeping the water from going over his head, but it was too late. Choso isn’t sure what his body does. It acts on its own, arms swinging, most likely hitting both the walls of his closet and the clothes on the hangers. There isn’t any pain, then again there never is. Not in the moment.

Choso hates himself. HATES. He hates the brother he is. The weak, pathetic, unreliable, emotional wreck that he can’t seem to contain. He hates feeling out of control. All. The. Time. He hates that Yuji hates him. He hates himself for making Yuji sad. 

Different garments and pieces fall off their hangers, laying themselves on Choso’s body. It becomes a fight against them in the darkness of the small confinement. A fight that they happen to win. As more and more weight places itself on his body, he sinks. Accepts defeat and lets himself be buried under it. The weight of the clothes grounds him, holds him down where he lays on the closet floor. Someone else took over the control, he no longer has to be the one to act it out or calm himself down. 

Between the pressure from above and the cold wooden flooring below, Choso cries. He cries and he breathes until he finally falls asleep. 

Choso wakes up from the heat. It takes a while for him to figure out why it’s so warm, why his face is covered, why his bed feels so hard. When he comes to it, he hurries to get out. Pushing piles of clothes away to make room to sit back up. It’s pitch black and he uses his hand to feel for the door. The space that had provided him with comfort only hours ago was now suffocating him. He pushes on the walls in panic, bewildered at the thought of why he can’t seem to find the door. Suddenly the wall gives in and he stumbles into the open again, palms meeting the carpet in his room. Without looking back he shuts the closet door, leaving behind more than the mess he had created. 

Choso sits on his floor for a while, running his hands along the fuzzy fibers carpet. His head is empty and he disappears for a bit. 

When he comes back to it he reaches for his phone. The number 06:59 illuminates on his screen. Before he can think too much about that he spots a text from Yuji.

Yuji ❤️  02:23:

Choso I’m really sorry I took your makeup without asking for pemission first

Yuji ❤️  02:24:

I know you dont like when ppl take your stuff…

Yuji ❤️  02:24:

Im sorry that did it and that I upset you

Yuji ❤️  02:32:

I cleaned everything and put it back where it was. 

Yuji ❤️  03:12:

I really didn’t want to make you sad, Im sorry 

Choso cries again. He sniffles and dries his face with the back of his hand. It’s all wrong that it’s Yuji who is apologizing. Besides he wants Yuji to feel like he can borrow his stuff any time. He gets up from where he was seated and is out of his room in no time. His heart skipped a beat at the thought of Yuji still being outside but luckily he was nowhere to be found. 

Then that thought turns into worry. Without any hesitation, he approaches the door to Yuji’s room. He stops himself right before he is about to pull down the handle. He remembers the countless times Yuji has requested…no, demanded, that he knock before entering. So he does just that. Choso’s knuckles meet the wood in a sound quiet enough to not disturb Yuji is he is asleep. When there is no reply Choso assumes it’s alright to peek inside. 

It’s something he has done more times than he would like to confess to. The door only needs to be ajar a few centimeters for him to see Yuji’s bed. This time, it is exactly what Choso sees; Yuji’s bed…without Yuji. He flings the door open in a quick motion, eyes flickering over the room only lit by the small sunshine in between the edges of his curtains. 

He spots Yuji on the floor immediately. Choso’s heart sinks. 

He is dead. He is fucking dead. 

“Yuji?!” He gets on his knees next to the body of his younger brother. Grabbing him by his shoulders he shakes him violently. To his extreme relief, Yuji wakes up. 

“What? What are you doing?” He asks, not fully yet awakened. Choso cries again, but he decides this time is okay. It’s only okay if it’s happy tears. Yuji, who has managed to blink the sleep out of his eyes, suddenly looks worried at his brother. 

“Wait what’s wrong? What happened Choso?” He asks. He is stiff in Choso’s grip but he manages to bring him into his chest and hug him. Yuji mets it haphazardly. 

“I thought you were dead,” Choso admits and sniffs. A small sigh comes out of Yuji. 

“Was it a bad dream?” He asks. Choso felt a crease grow between his brows. 

“No, why were you on the floor?” He asks instead. When no immediate answer comes, he pulls Yuji out at arms-length. He fails to meet his eyes. 

“Choso, I’m really sorry for what I did during the night, I-”

“You did nothing wrong Yuji, please don’t say sorry,” Choso interrupts. He isn’t sure if Yuji is hearing him because he seems deep in thought. 

“I didn’t deserve to sleep in my bed,” The words are quiet. Almost like they split out more than were spoken. They are also horrifying. Yuji snaps out of it when Choso breaks down in full sobs. 

“Yuji,” is all he manages to say. It’s heartbreaking that Yuji would think that. He can’t stand it. With the deepest need to fix it, he lifts Yuji from the ground. It takes his newly awakened brother by surprise. 

“Hey, what are you doing?” he asks, tensing in a way that makes it difficult to carry him. Luckily the bed isn’t far away. Choso places him gently on it, tears and snot running down his face. Yuji fights against him when Choso tries to tuck him in. 

“Please sleep Yuji, I will make you breakfast,” he says. He loses the fight of pushing Yuji down. He sits back up and wears a look of determination on his face. 

“Choso, let’s make breakfast together, okay?” There is no way Choso argues with a request to spend time together when it’s coming from Yuji. So downstairs they go.

In the end, they ended up making pancakes. Yuji made the most after all and Choso admittedly felt a bit useless. By the time they were done, their dad had woken up too, joining them at the table. They tried to call for Sukuna but to no one’s surprise, there was no answer. 

The norming turned out alright in the end. A bit after 10 am Yuji went out to play with some friends. Choso finds himself in the bathroom. He had already established that Yuji had been telling the truth in his texts, everything was back just where Choso had placed it. It made him wonder if this was not the only time Yuji had borrowed his stuff. Perhaps it wasn’t a too far-fetched idea that Yuji had been inspired by him. Who knows, he might have tried many different looks throughout the year. Perhaps he had just found him in a very unfortunate moment. 

Still, it stung. Yuji using his makeup to cosplay Sukuna. He brings out the black makeup bag and stares at it for a moment. In the mirror in front of him, he sees his own pale face. Somehow he managed to have a complexion that didn’t match the rest of his family. His dad always told him that their mom looked similar to him. He wasn’t too fond of hearing that though. Also, the anemia didn’t help the lack of color. 

All attempts to shake off the night failed. He opens the bag and stares at the borrowed pen. 

If only Yuji would have tried to look like him instead. If only he could go back and change the narrative . Then it wouldn’t feel like his intestines were affected by a troublingly powerful g-force.  He picks up the pen. What if he changes it? What if what Yuji did that night was his look?

He takes the pen to his face and goes for it. A thick curve going over the bridge of his nose, spreading into his two cheeks. Choso feels his heart beat fast. He stares at the result for a moment. It doesn’t look too bad after all. 

Before more complicated feelings flood him he puts the pen back, zips up the bag, and back onto the shelf it goes. He takes one last look at his reflection before he turns on his heel and exits the bathroom. 

He is so hazed in his motions that he almost runs into a slow and sleepy Sukuna in the hallway. 

“What the fuck, watch-” He interrupts himself mid-sentence. Choso meets his eyes and expects to see the same anger that lingers in his words. Instead, he spots a smile. A very small and a very short smile, because mere milliseconds later it is gone. “Move,” Sukuna says, pushing his way past his brother. “You look fucking stupid as always,” he adds. 

Choso doesn’t see it, but he hears it. Either Sukuna is laughing at him and is trying to hide it, or he is smiling again. He turns back to look but Sukuna has his back towards him and a second later the bathroom door shuts behind him. 

What was that all about?

Chapter Text

The summer of 2007. Yuji had just turned four years old and we were all home alone for about an hour since dad had to work extra. Grandpa was going to come over to babysit us and Yuji was thrilled, jumping up and down to look out the window. I had attempted to lift him up so that he could get a better look but he was heavy. In the end, he got sad and started crying. Yuji loves grandpa. 

I asked Sukuna if we could go outside to meet grandpa on the road but he said no. I asked again and he got angry. Yuji started to cry even more so I took him outside anyway. 

Yuji was smiling again. It was as if his tears had never happened. Back then it was always easy to solve all of Yuji’s sadnesses. He was smiling and I didn’t even realize he was running in the wrong direction. Yuji was a child, endlessly drawn to what shimmered, and had a body larger than any four-year-old could ever imagine. Yuji hadn’t been to the lake before. I had always been scared of new things, Yuji had always been brave. He still is. 

It’s so like him to open his arms as if he could give a big hug to the entire mass of water in front of him. I noticed too late that he wouldn’t stop in time. I ran too slow. When he went under I had several steps ahead of me before I reached the place he disappeared.

I hate the water, hated it even back then. Cold, dark, and scary. But at that moment it didn’t matter. There was no hesitation when I jumped in after him.

Yuji didn’t know how to swim, he was only four. 

I also didn’t know how to swim. I was seven, I probably should have known. 

My head was underwater, my feet desperately looking for a bottom that wasn’t there. When I opened my eyes I saw nothing. I couldn’t breathe, my lungs were burning. Selfishly I wished for a hand to reach down and grab me. I wished for sunlight, for air to grasp. For a small moment, I allowed that wish to exist. A small moment before I needed to be an older brother again.

I don’t know how I managed to find Yuji. Suddenly his shirt was in my hand and I refused to let go. I also don’t know how we managed to get to the surface or up on that cliff again. I only remember how getting my own head above the water didn’t deliver the relief I was hoping for. 

Yuji wasn’t waking up no matter how much I called his name and shook his shoulders. He didn’t look like himself. It went against everything I wanted but I left him, bolted back towards the house on lungs that seemed to have swallowed the lake. I ran as fast as I could but it felt like I was getting nowhere. I coughed as I tried to call my older brother’s name. I must have managed to make myself heard because he came out of the house. When he saw me he had an expression I had never seen him wear. To this day that stands true. 

Sukuna ran so fast that I couldn’t keep up. When I saw Yuji again Sukuna was already blowing into his mouth and banging on his chest. I don’t know where he learned to do all that. Sukuna probably knew how to swim too. He was angry at Yuji and screaming. Eventually, water came out of Yuji’s mouth and he woke up. 

I was crying but Sukuna screamed at me to stop. I wanted to hug Yuji but he pushed me away from him. Yuji was coughing, he wasn’t himself. 

Sukuna carried him back. He put us both on the staircase to the second floor before bringing towels to dry us with. Yuji didn’t cry when he rubbed him too hard with the towel but I didn’t like it. When I protested he gave me the same treatment. 

We waited for grandpa to come. It felt like an eternity. Sukuna told us to sit still but he was pacing up and down the hall, going between glancing out the window and looking out the front door. Eventually, grandpa came. He took us all to the hospital. 

When we told grandpa what happened he slapped Sukuna across the face. It was Sukuna's fault after all. For letting us go outside, for not calling the ambulance, for not knowing about secondary drowning. It was his fault, but I remember the slap hurting as if it was delivered to my own face. I remember it not feeling right seeing Sukuna at the end of it. Even today when I think about it I get sad. And it’s my brain rather than my heart that tells me that Sukuna saved Yuji’s life after all. And when I think about it like that, I alone stand as the receiver of that hand.

“Yuji is visiting Junpei this weekend,” They had just gotten past the initial check-in on how Choso was currently feeling, how the week had gone, if anything had happened. It had started to feel more and more natural to talk to Geto. It didn’t go unbeknownst to Choso that he was paying attention to the things he had told him, remembered, and perhaps even cared. 

“And who is Junpei?” Geto asks, wearing the same calming smile as he normally does. Today Choso had noticed him bringing a small yellow notepad which he was currently running his finger up and down the spine of. When Geto noticed that the motion had caught Choso’s attention he put it down on his lap. Choso was wondering why it was still close. What had he even written in that thing?

“A friend of his that moved out of town last year,” he replies. Although Geto was someone who had gotten to know him, he was still hesitant with the things he told him. Somehow it felt like the more he knew, the more he had the power to threaten what was closest to Choso’s heart. 

“Then I bet he looks forward to finally seeing him again,” Choso felt like the words should have been accompanied by another smile. Usually, that’s what people do when they say something uplifting. Geto seemed to study him instead, waiting for a reaction all whilst keeping his own so ambiguous. 

“He does,” Choso says, passing the baton right back to his therapist. Geto places one hand over the other in his lap and sinks back into his seat, almost making it a point to relax his body. Choso tries his best to follow. 

“Is something about it troubling you Choso?” There is a window to the left behind Geto. It’s one of those windows you sometimes have in your bathroom, one with distorted glass where light can slip through but you can’t really see any details. Occasionally someone passes by on the outside, unavoidable since the room is on the first floor. 

“I don’t like him going away,” he admits. It’s conflicting for him to bring up this topic. Choso isn’t sure why he did it. He knows he doesn’t need Geto to be yet another person to tell him that his feelings and actions are weird and inappropriate. Therefore, he swallows in an attempt to ease himself. 

“How come?” Geto asks, tilting his head a bit to the side. Choso studies his expression and looks for signs that the smile he is receiving is fake. 

“I’m so far away if something happens,” There is something about Geto that makes him more honest than he thought he wanted to be. Yuji going to Junpei has been gnawing at Choso ever since he told him. There isn’t anything inherently wrong with Yuji visiting a friend. In fact, Choso has always thought of Junpei as one of Yuji’s better friends. It was just the thought of Yuj leaving. Being all alone far from home, away from Choso’s reach. 

“But someone else will be there, right?” Geto asks and Choso notices it as an attempt to bring peace to his mind. It only brings him more desperation to the need to explain how such words don’t help how he feels. 

“Yeah, but Junpei lives alone with his mom.” It’s the one logical reason he can cling to. One he hopes others would understand too. Because it means there is only one adult in the presence of two children. Perhaps she doesn’t even have a car if something were to happen? Perhaps she has to work, just like their dad. That makes for no guardian over Yuji. 

“You guys have a one-parent household too, right?” Geto meets him. The man always seems to have a clever answer to what Choso can come up with. Being challenged stings. 

“I guess.” He says, but refuses to admit to defeat just yet. “But they don’t know Yuji like I do. What if they don’t see if he is in pain or sad?” It’s a tad bit desperate, Choso is aware. It is also a lot truer to what he is actually feeling. He is panicking about this. And he needs Geto to help him with a solution. He needs to hear that what he is feeling justifies Choso coming with him, despite Yuji not wanting him to. Because he just needs to be there. He needs to keep an eye on him. Make things right when they go wrong. 

“Yuji is the one responsible for communicating his needs, even if he finds it difficult. It doesn’t lay on you to be there at all times to figure it out and handle it for him. In the long run that won’t be good for him either.” Geto explains. The words burn. Every word with the indication that he is hurting Yuji stabs like a knife. 

“But sometimes he just doesn’t.” He tries. Geto also doesn’t know Yuji like he does. He doesn’t know how he is careless with himself and ignores when he gets hurt. 

“Then that’s something Yuji has to work on, it’s really not something you can protect him from Choso,” Someone passes by their room on the street outside again. Choso uses it as a chance to break the bubble Geto has intentionally put them in. He wants to escape the words. He wants to be the one Yuji needs. Hearing Geto say that he can’t have a role in fixing things makes him anxious. 

“But I want to, in my heart, it feels like I really need to,” He says in an attempt to try and explain the feelings that surface. Geto draws him in again, meeting eyes and smiles.

“I know,” He says, and somehow it feels like he does. The smile fades a bit. “But it’s out of your control if something happens to Yuji,” Choso swallows.

“Not if I’m there at all times,” Just thinking about it makes his heart rate increase. There is always more he can do for Yuji. Every moment where Choso feels as though he has lacked piles up in his mind. An ugly mountain that he can’t get rid of. Mistakes can never be undone, not even by making amendments. There is no way of knowing how bad of a mistake it will be, or how dire the consequences will be. Therefore, Choso always wants to eliminate the chances. Yuji is simply that important to him, he can’t risk it.

“Even then. And somewhere you have to draw the line for yourself where you stop yourself from interfering with a situation just to be in control,” Geto explains. His eyes are locked on Choso now as if the conversation took a more serious turn. “You could put Yuji in a room of pillows and keep him there forever, but you wouldn’t do that, right?”

Choso shakes his head but if he is being honest he has mixed feelings.

“Because you know Yuji wouldn’t be happy in there,” Geto answers for him. “So you make a compromise. A little less control and a little happier Yuji,” Choso feels his jaw clench. 

“I want Yuji to be the maximum happy, that’s all I’m trying to do,” He feels his own guard rise. His muscles tense up in his neck and in his arms, fingers hugging each other a bit tighter. It’s not much but he can tell that Geto observes it as his eyes scan his body. It makes Choso want to disappear. 

“I know, but perhaps this calls for another compromise,” he says and makes an unsuccessful attempt to put his bangs behind his ear. Choso swallows again. Geto draws in a breath that he lets out slowly. It’s not a sigh, and Choso feels like it’s a nudge for him to breathe too.  “I know it’s a difficult line to walk.”

Choso nods slowly. 

“What would your ideal scenario be Choso?” It’s a question he should have given more thought to if he were to look back at it. But it comes out instinctual. 

“That I can come with him,” he answers. Geto smiles at him again. Despite how much the man smiles, Choso feels as though there is a sadness to him. Not that he is being fake or anything. Perhaps he has just heard way too many sad people out. 

“May I suggest something and you can tell me how it sounds to you?” he asks, putting the question to be the least threatening as possible. Still, it feels like a bit degrading. 

“I guess,” he answers.

“What if Yuji goes to Junpei, travels there all alone, and stays for as many days as he has decided,” He makes a small pause to see if Choso is following, making sure that he hasn’t put up an entire wall before himself. “But if something were to happen he would call you. He would have the feeling that you would be there for him and you would have the feeling that he relies on you if he needs.” 

Choso takes a moment for the words to sink in. He imagines it and takes note of the feelings that arise. Geto had taught him to do that in their second session. 

“It wouldn’t be enough,” he finally says. It’s as truthful as he dares to be with Geto. 

“But does the scenario feel at least a little bit better?” He retaliates. Choso takes a moment to think about that too.

“I guess it does,” he admits. Sure, the problem still remains, but the thought of knowing that Yuji would rely on him will always be a good one. 

“And that scenario isn’t a reality now, right?” Choso turns his eyes away again. 

“No, it’s not,” he says in shame. All the effort he puts in to be reliable and Yuji still never depends on him. It’s a failure he rather not admit to. 

“Then isn’t it a good start to think to achieve that? Just as a start, see how it makes you feel.” Choso promised his dad to have an open mind. He even promised himself that. In the end, the point of all this is to get better (be a better brother for Yuji). He has to try. “I know you said the very first time we met that it was important for you to be a reliable older brother,” 

“That’s what I want,” he says. Easier said than done is what he thinks.

“If it’s what you want and it doesn’t match what he feels, it might be time to change strategy,” Choso’s hands are sweating. He rubs them against his jeans. 

“Yeah, maybe,” he said, mostly just to say anything at all. 

“He can’t extend a hand if you are already standing on his toes.” The phrase sticks to him. But so does the lump stick in the back of his throat. Therapy is really difficult. He isn’t sure he likes it yet. 

Geto shifts in his seat to sit up more. Choso watches him anxiously, hoping it will mark the end of that paragraph in their talk. But of course, it doesn’t.

“None of what I’m saying is making you feel good. Am I correct?” he looks up at Choso with wit in his eyes. It feels both reassuring and condescending that he has seen right through him. Choso can do nothing but nod. Geto sighs for the first time, although not a tired one. 

“With all of these feelings, behind it is the love you have for him,” he says. The lump becomes heavy. It expands and fills his entire chest. Choso tries to breathe it out but as soon as he lets go of some tension he feels his eyes tear up. He nods profusely and wipes the escaped tears as if it would hide them from the man who has his full attention on him. 

Choso feels embarrassed for crying. Especially when in the limelight like this. He knows if it’s one place where you probably should cry, it’s in therapy. Yet it feels more terrible than ever. He fears to look at Geto’s expression as he continues to speak.

“Then why don’t you try to express that instead? Remember what we talked about last time with Sukuna? When the emotion you have shows up as another before others.” he says, the voice softer yet not in a way that pities him. 

“Yes,” Choso answers whilst taking a peak at his therapist again. He doesn’t look disturbed. In fact, he doesn’t seem affected at all. It draws Choso back to reality and he quickly gathers himself again. Being the only one in the room having feelings on full blast is making him feel stupid. 

“Do you think there is a way for you to tell him how you feel without making him guilty for going?” Choso chokes on himself. He loses his breath but without the feeling to draw in a new one. It’s like the whole world stops. It must be visible on his face because Geto suddenly looks puzzled. 

“...Is that how he has been feeling?” he manages to say. It’s taking everything that he has to not break down. He had never thought about it like that before, that Yuji would be affected in such a way by his own feelings. He was simply worrying, simply caring for him, loving him. 

“Eh..my bad, I shouldn’t have assumed that.” Geto tries to mitigate. Choso can tell he feels bad to have caused him such strong emotions. But this time he finds that he doesn’t want to blame Geto. “But it is a possibility,” he adds.

“I didn’t want that,” Silent tears streamed down Choso’s cheeks. He doesn’t bother wiping them this time. This time it feels important to show that he is sad. 

“I know, and it’s okay Choso,” Geto reassures. “But just as you want him to be happy, he probably wants the same for you, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, Yuji always wants good things for other people. Even if they aren’t good people,” Choso dries his tears at last. Speaking fondly of Yuji will always bring him some level of joy, even in this context. 

“Then it may be complicated for him to choose between something he really wants to do and hurting you,” Geto explains. Choso decides that Geto is kind of good at explaining things. He nods to himself for a bit before he shifts the motion to shaking his head. 

“He shouldn’t be thinking about me,” he says. It’s all wrong, a younger brother worrying about his older. It shouldn’t be that way. Especially not with Yuji. 

“Again, that’s out of your control,” Geto explains. “But like I said, it can be worth giving it a thought how to express all this love and care you have for him and making sure he feels like he can reach out to you. Since that’s what you wish for him to carry with him.”

Choso thinks about it. What Geto is saying becomes rather conceptual and he finds himself a bit confused on what exactly he should be doing in the end. He always tries to show Yuji how much he loves him. That is what he is doing when he asks to come with Yuji to look out for him. That in and of itself is an expression of his love. But perhaps it’s like Geto said, it gets overshadowed by other “bad” emotions. 

“And Choso, just to make it clear, I’m not asking you to hide all of these complicated feelings, not even from Yuji. They should and will come out in one way or another. But rather working on this will hopefully make so that those feelings become less and less. If you get comfortable portraying your primary emotion there will be no need for the secondary.” Geto adds. 

“I will try,” he says, sincerely. He thinks about asking Geto what exactly he should do but he decides it will be to ask for too much. 

“That’s good, and all anyone could ask,” he answers and smiles. 

When Geto glances up at the watch above Choso’s head, purposely placed outside of his sight he can only assume, and rise from his seat, Choso identifies it as the sign that their session is over for the day. He feels strangely overwhelmed and tired after their talk. Almost as if he had been on a very long run or stayed up the whole night. 

Geto leads him towards the door. He holds up his hand in the gesture and Choso takes notice of the golden ring on his left ring finger. He looks up at his therapist. 

“Geto-san, do you have any kids?” he asks, catching the slight shift in the demeanor of the older. It’s a small hesitation before he opens his mouth to answer. 

“I have. Three girls and one boy,” he says with a nod and smiles. Choso feels perplexed.

“Then why are you working the whole summer? Don’t you want to spend time with them during their break?” he asks. When the words left his mouth he realized that it might be a rude and invasive question. Still, he had no regrets in asking. 

“I would have liked that,” Geto says and smiles with only half his mouth. “but it’s a bit complicated,” The last bit comes out a bit quiet.

“Are you getting a divorce?” he blurts out. The forward question seems to have snapped Geto out of it and he looks regretful. Realizing he won’t get much more out of Geto, the little information he has gotten out of him starts to dawn and Choso realizes something. 

“Ah, Choso we really shouldn’t be talking about me. I’m sorry, it just slipped out. Let’s leave it a-”

“You’re not allowed to see your kids?” Choso interrupts. He just can’t help himself. If Choso is feeling this bad about not seeing Yuji for a couple of days, imagine how sad someone would be if they couldn’t see their kids for an entire summer. Perhaps never again. “That makes me really sad,” he says. 

The tears flood again. He tries both them and the snot with the back of his hand. Geto’s smile is gone and he almost looks worried. He places a hand on Choso’s shoulder. 

“Forget about that, don’t you have a brother you want to spend some time with now before he leaves,” Those words are enough for Choso to collect himself. Yuji leaves tomorrow, he should make the best of that day. He also needs to think about what Geto said about portraying love correctly. 

“Choso,” he looks up at him. Geto is smiling again. “Really good job today, go home now and be kind to yourself,”

Chapter Text

CW: Swearing and implied abuse (possibly sexual but up for interpretation)

Choso had tried to figure out what Geto had meant during their last session. Their conversation went on repeat in his head but the words only seemed to distort more and more each round they were played. In the end, it all just sounded off, like when you repeat a word for yourself over and over again until it doesn’t sound like a word at all. 

Express the love behind those complicated feelings.

Yuji was in the midst of packing for the weekend. He had silently let his brother in when he appeared in the door frame. Sometimes they were like that, not sharing a sound, but enjoying each other’s company nonetheless. The suitcase was placed open on Yuji’s bed. He had gotten further than Choso had anticipated with underwear and toiletries neatly tucked under the net covers. Contrary to what many people thought, Yuji was a tidy person who greatly valued his material possessions. He was also someone who held onto things. Old stuffed animals, his notebooks from primary school, notes, and receipts that to him held some sentimental value. Choso suspected Yuji too was one to bleed his emotions into physical things. 

With that being said, three stuffed animals were placed next to his suitcase, ready to take off to Shinjuku. 

"Do you need help packing Yuji?" He asks in hopes of being of service as he feels a bit awkward just standing there. Choso thought about taking a seat at Yuji’s desk but if he could be productive he would prefer that. 

"No, I think I got it, thanks for asking though," Yuji says without throwing him an eye. The rejection makes it even harder to go for the computer chair. 

"Are you really fine with going all by yourself?" He asks instead. Yuji sighs. 

"Yeah, I've told you, Junpei will meet me at the station. It’s not even a three-hour train ride. Besides I've traveled by myself many times," Yuji states the well-rehearsed lines. It’s only the second time Choso has asked, yet he sounds like he has repeated himself twenty times. Another sigh leaves Yuji’s lips. 

“Actually, Choso could you prepare my water bottle for me? The big one, lots of ice,” At the thought of getting to be useful, Choso’s mouth forms a smile before his brain catches up. 

“Sure,” He chimes and turns on his heel with a heavy heart. They only spent a couple of minutes together and it was enough for Yuji to get so sick of him that he sent him to another room. 

Communicate the love. 

Isn’t helping Yuji prepare communicating it? It’s done out of love, yet Yuji only sighs. 

It’s been decided that their dad will drive Yuji to the station alone. Choso isn’t sure who decided that or why he didn’t have a say in it, but suddenly he has to say goodbye to Yuji way earlier than he thought. The change of plan stresses him out but Geto’s words echo. Yuji checks his luggage one more time before throwing the smaller bag over his shoulder. 

“Sukuna, we are leaving now, come say goodbye to your brother,” their dad calls. Choso isn’t sure if Sukuna doesn’t hear him or if the silence is intentional, but no answer is heard from upstairs. 

“Bye Sukuna,” Yuji calls with a smile. When he turns to Choso it dies a bit, his eyes losing the glow. 

“Bye Choso,” he says and gives him a small wave. The difference sends a punch to Choso’s stomach. Why is it always like this? Why doesn’t Yuji like him? 

Do you think you can say it in a way that doesn’t make him feel guilty for going?

Is that why Yuji is giving him that look? Upon inspecting it again it’s possible that it stems from a sorrow or worry that Yuji might not be able to communicate. 

Choso has always thought he was an overthinker before, but going to therapy put a whole other spin on that. He wasn’t sure what to think of it yet. 

“Be c-” Yuji’s eyebrows raise when Choso stops himself mid-sentence. There is so much he wants to say to Yuji. He wants to make sure he has everything, he wants to tell him to watch out for shady people on the train, to dress warm enough so he doesn’t get cold, and to make sure Yuji knows he can call him any time. But he knows by doing so Yuji will roll his eyes and they will depart without another word, which isn’t at all what he wants. 

“I love you,” he blurts out instead. 

Communicate the love. Choso is pretty sure Geto didn’t mean it that literally. 

Yuji wears a look of surprise for a second before he breaks out in a laugh. 

“Yeah, love you too bro,” Yuji’s smile warms like the sun, and suddenly everything that the black-haired therapist said fell into place. Suddenly there wasn’t a need to say anything else. Yuji opens his arms to instigate a hug. Choso has to bite down on his lip so hard that he draws blood to not cry. He embraces his younger brother one last time. Yuji’s hug is strong. He is strong. He will be fine. 

When the door shuts behind them he lets the tears fall. It’s such a mix of feelings. He is grateful and proud that he managed to make Yuji leave with a smile. Yet, the worry persists. He can’t say he doesn’t want Yuji to come right back and say that he changed his mind about going, selfish or not. However, that is something he decides to carry alone. 

"Would you stop looking like that brat has died or something?" Choso hadn’t heard when Sukuna snuck down the stairs and he turns in surprise. When Sukuna spots his tears he clicks his tongue. 

"Don't say that!" Choso says. The last thing he wants to hear are the words Yuji and die in the same sentence, especially from a voice outside his own head. 

"Give me a break,” He grunts as he disappears into the kitchen. Moments later he reappears with a bunch of Yuji’s cookies that he refused the other day. He hands one to Choso. “He will be back soon. Too soon." 

"So, wouldn't it be nice to do something tomorrow? Just the three of us?" They had somehow made it through most of the day without Yuji. After getting photo evidence from Yuji that he had arrived in Shinjuku and met up with Junpei, Choso had actually managed to relax a bit. Sure, things felt weird and bad without the youngest there, it became more obvious than ever how much he lightened his mood with his mere presence, but it almost felt alright if he clung to the thought that it was just for a couple of days. 

"You wish. Count me out," Sukuna met with anger. They were just done eating dinner and Sukuna had been quick to start cleaning the table, probably to be dismissed as early as possible. 

“What about for just a short while? It doesn’t have to be the whole day,” their dad tries again, joining his eldest son at the kitchen counter to handle the dishes. Choso was still fighting with the raw carrot on his plate, seriously considering putting it in the flower vase just to get rid of it. He hated carrots. 

“No, I want to savor my time now that the brat is gone. I’m not gonna let you ruin it with some posy family shit,” Sukuna snapped back. His motions became more and more forced, utensils and silverware clashing together. Sukunas anger always spread like a fire. It starts out as a small flame, capturing any unlucky observer with its dance. But soon enough you have stared for too long and you realize it grew and by the time you get the fire extinguisher, you are left with the only option of running as far away as possible. 

And someone only managed to provide that fire with even more oxygen. It’s a ritual they can’t seem to break. 

“Don’t call him that!” Choso hissed. It doesn’t matter how many years have passed, he will never get used to Sukuna bad-mouthing Yuji. And even though Yuji isn’t there, it feels important to stand up for him.

“Well, I can’t force you but it would be lov-” their dad starts but gets interrupted.

“Are you gonna fucking cry now?” Choso looks up from his plate to meet Sukunas enraged eyes. He didn’t even notice the two streams that had formed on his face, hadn’t process what bodily reaction he was having. “Oh, that’s just fucking great. Cry and cry and get your attention. You weak pathetic worthless little shit!” The words are accompanied by gritted teeth. Sukuna spits them at him as if just talking about Choso would dirty him. Choso moves to dry the tears.

“Sukuna!” Their dad raises his voice. 

Fueling the fire. 

“AND YOU!” Sukuna starts, fingers squeezing the washcloth so hard it will probably dry it out completely. He turns towards their dad and tenses up like a violin string. “YOU ALWAYS ACT LIKE NOTHING BOTHERS YOU! YOU EMOTIONLESS FUCKING PSYCO!” He moved in a swift motion to throw the washcloth into the sink but managed to go too far, accidentally hitting his hand on the side of it. Choso catches the millisecond of pain that spreads across Sukuna’s face. “YOU ARE ALWAYS SO CALM IT MAKES ALL OF US FEEL LIKE FREAKS!” He hisses and gets in his dad’s face. Used to his son’s outbursts, he doesn’t back off. 

“And now I have to spend my time with you, and for what?? Not for me, that’s for sure. I can NEVER get a break from any of you!” He points at their dad and Choso respectively, the motion so ragefilled that it looks like he slices through the air. “I’m so sick of all of you! All you do is pretend like everything is fine and everything is good. BUT GUESS WHAT DAD, WE ARE NOT! DO WE SEEM HAPPY, DAD?? DO ANY OF US SEEM HAPPY??”

Sukuna takes short hazed breaths through his teeth. His chest heaves up and down like a live instrument, alone responsible for the only sound in the room. The silence is deafening. Sukuna flickers his eyes between them, probably feeling the pressure pushing him into a corner. 

“Why are you looking at me like that? Why are you always looking at me like you are scared of me??” His eyes stick on Choso, the anger somewhat gone. He looks hurt, panicked, glaced eyes, despite being the one to start this. No one is arguing with him. If it’s a fight he is having it with himself. Choso isn’t sure what to do, not sure how he looks from the eyes of his brother. Is he scared of Sukuna? Perhaps? He can’t tell. 

Their dad only looks at Sukuna, eyes bearing thirteen or more years' worth of apologies and regret. Choso sees him swallow before reaching out a hand to place on Sukuna’s shoulder. He must catch it in the corner of his eye because he turns to flick it away. 

“I’m leaving,” he says flatly. Contradictory to his words he doesn’t flee. 

“You’re not. Not like this.” Their dad says. His unwavering calmness is starting to crack, Choso can tell from his voice. Yet, the words are firm more than anything. 

“You think you can stop me?” he says defensively and pulls back.

“Oh, I will. Cause you are not leaving when you are like this,” It’s enough worry in their dad’s voice to make Choso anxious. Sukuna bursting out of their house after an argument wouldn’t be the first time so he isn’t sure why his dad is sounding like that. He can tell the words don’t land well with Sukuna and he turns to walk away forwards their hall. Their dad launches forward a bit to grab his arm. It’s not aggressive but Sukuna reacts as if the touch burns. In a second he is out of his grip only to grab a hold of his dad, knotting his hands around his shirt color. With a hard push he sends him flying and Choso watches his dad hit the drawer. 

“Dad!” He calls for him, rushing to his aid. He sits up before Choso can reach his side, one hand on his back where he most likely took the impact. Looking straight past Choso towards the open front door, he attempts to get up, a hiss of pain leaving his lips. Choso places a hand on his shoulder to push him down. “Dad, stay down for a bit,”

“No, help me up,” he says, waving his hand for Choso to grab. He does so without protest this time, pulling him to standing. His dad stumbles towards the door and out into their garden. Choso follows. 

There are no signs of Sukuna. His dad flicks his head around in panic before turning to go inside again. 

“Fuck,” Choso hear him say when closing the door behind him. It’s very unusual for his dad to swear. He isn’t sure he had ever heard it. “Choso, could you go look and see if he at least has his phone?” Choso stalls for a moment before understanding the task. 

He looks in Sukuna's room, under the piles of dirty clothes, papers, and other junk he has lying around. Choso rarely goes into Sukuna’s room. The first reason being that he had no interest in spending time there, second being that it’s strictly forbidden by Sukuna, and Choso isn’t the one to cross his boundaries. 

When he can’t find it he quickly sweeps his eyes around the common areas, checks if it’s charging behind the sofa where Sukuna sometimes leaves it. 

“I can’t find it,” he admits when he joins his dad in the kitchen again. Stressed hands are handling the last traces of their dinner, the kitchen almost spotless at this point. Choso notes that the carrot is gone.

“Okay, I’m gonna call him,” his dad says, fetching his phone from the charger. He brings it to his ear but Choso can still make out the words on the other end. 

“The number you have called isn’t reachable, ple-”

His dad ends the call. 

“He must have turned it off, then at least it means he has it on him,” he concludes, ripping the charger out of the power outlet only to plug it in on the one next to their kitchen table. He sits down and connects his phone again. Choso watches the 100% status appear on screen but he doesn’t comment on it. 

His eyes seem to get stuck on something far ahead, his mouth forms a thin line and Choso swallows. His nervousness must have been picked up by his father because he snaps out of it. 

“Come here,” he drags out the chair next to him, gesturing for Choso to join him at the table. He does so and his dad reaches to ruffle his hair gently. “Are you worried?” he asks. Choso shakes his head. 

“Not about Sukuna at least,” he admits. His dad smiles. 

“But about Yuji?” He asks. Choso nods slowly. “He talked about you in the car, asked me to make sure you were busy while he was gone so you wouldn’t miss him as much,” his words gnaw at Choso. Guilt that he thought he had managed to surpass, catch up to him. All that effort to not weigh down on Yuji was for nothing. “He cares about you a lot you know,” his dad ends with. 

“I don’t want him to worry about me,” he confesses. 

“And he doesn’t want you to worry about him. Ironic, right?” his dad counters, giving him a bigger smile. Choso attempts to process what he says but the words get mixed up in his feelings. 

“I want to be a reliable older brother to him,” Choso isn’t sure why all the words come out. Perhaps it’s the way the sun is starting to dim outside or the fact that they are alone in the house. It somehow also feels wrong, because isn’t he just getting attention from his tears just as Sukuna said? Choso wonders if it could contribute to his brother’s frustration towards him. Is he taking up too much space?

“I couldn’t think of a more reliable brother than you Choso,” his dad reassures, pulling him in for a half hug around his shoulders. Choso lets himself be handled despite feeling undeserving of the comfort. 

His dad’s phone buzzes and his attention shifts towards it. He doesn’t let his Choso see his screen but he gets the feeling it’s not a text from Sukuna. Fingers move slowly to type out a message. It takes a while, with the index finger repeatedly spamming the erase button from time to time. He finally sends the text and puts his phone down with a sign, eyes wandering towards their wall clock. 

“Where do you think he went?” Choso asks. His dad gives him a loop-sides smile.

“I don’t know,” Choso gets the feeling that his dad knows more than he wants to tell. Something that weighs him down. 

They end up talking more, even playing a couple of rounds of cards before Choso starts to feel tired. He keeps nodding off and his dad tells him to go to bed. 

“What about you?” he asks as he rises on wobbly legs from sitting for so long. He glances at the watch. 23:34. Usually when Sukuna leaves in a haze he is back within two hours. A long walk or a change of environment normally does the trick to calm him down. Not only has it been a lot longer, but it’s pitch black outside. 

“I will stay up, just in case he calls,” His dad says. He sees the worry in his father, even starts to understand it. Lines in his forehead that threaten to become permanent. Choso is too tired to mirror it though. “Goodnight darling,” he greets him, followed by a smile. 

“Goodnight dad,” he replies and climbs the stairs to a much-desired bed. Once he reaches it he throws himself on it without changing clothes. The phone in his pocket imprints on his thigh. He moves to remove it and looks at the screen as it lights up. Droopy eyes make it a bit blurry but something compels him to unlock it and enter the messaging app. He stares at his total of four conversations, hovering his unfocused eyes between the names of his brothers, contemplating. 

Being only half awake he types a short message, hits send, and lets the night take him.

You 23:37:

Goodnight Nana

Choso wakes up to sharp sounds coming from downstairs. They seem hurried and it spikes his anxiety. He looks at his watch. 02:47. He is up on his feet in seconds, taking the stairs in unsteady leaps. The light from the kitchen casts shadows in the hallway, making it evident that a person is fuzzing around in the room. Choso approaches the doorframe, almost dumping into his dad who exits from the other side. They startle each other. 

“Choso, what are you doing awake?” he asks without stopping. With a single motion, he grabs the shoe spoon and starts putting on his shoes. 

“I woke up just now,” he admits. “Dad? Where are you going?”

“I’m getting Sukuna,” he says. The determination in his voice is intentional, probably to serve himself more than Choso. He meets the eyes of his father and notices how red they are, coming to the realization that he probably waited up until now. Could he have been crying as well? Choso gets a lump of worry in his stomach. What’s going on?

“I’m coming with you,” he says, grabbing his own two shoes from the rack. It looks as though his dad will object but Choso pushes them both through the door to make him lose that option. They jump in the car and his dad starts the ignition. Before pulling out of their driveway he tosses his phone towards Choso. 

“Help me with the way,” he requests. Choso takes the phone and unlocks it. He is met with directions to a place 10 minutes away. In an attempt to zoom in he accidentally returns to the previous page. He realizes it’s the text conversation between Sukuna and their dad. Without wanting to pry he scans the screen to get back to the map. Against his will, he sees part of the last text his dad sent Sukuna.

doesn’t matter. I’m still up. Call at any time. 

Sukuna 02:43:

Sukuna shared his location

Choso clicks the link and it takes him back to the map. Without them saying much he guides his dad towards the destination. It’s a tense ride and apart from the dark night skies, there are no signs of it being so late. They are both wide awake. Choso is pretty sure he wouldn’t be if it wasn’t for how stressed his dad seemed to be. He drives with a clenched jaw and drops of sweat are making their way down his neck and forehead despite the chilly summer night.

They arrive at a big parking lot. Except for a few cars they are completely alone in the area. They circle around a bit before his dad seems to catch an eye on something. Without tearing his eyes off the dark Jeep he parks his car with a good distance between the two. When he kills the engine he looks at Choso with serious eyes.

“Choso, lock the car after me,” Choso has never seen his dad look like that and it almost frightens him. As he exits the car Choso follows order. Holding his breath he watches as his dad walks towards the other car. The passenger side of it opens and Sukuna exits. He walks with his head hanging low towards his father. Even that is a rare sight, seeing Sukuna look almost submissive. When they meet in the middle. Sukuna appears small next to their dad, despite him growing taller than him last summer. Their dad puts an arm around his shoulders and seems to say a few words to him. Choso sees Sukuna nod before looking up at their vehicle. He sees Choso and turns his gaze away again. 

Choso sees him draw his shoulders to his ears. He must be cold only wearing a tank top in the middle of the night. Their dad gives him a bit of a push and he starts walking towards their car. Once arriving he pulls the handle to the seat behind Choso, only to be met with a locked door. Choso hurries to unlock it. He enters without a word. 

Choso sees their dad approach the other car. He walks all the way up to the open window and leans towards it. He seems to say something to the driver and Choso adjusts in his seat to see if he can see who it is. 

“Why are you here?” he hears Sukuna say from behind him. When he speaks it becomes evident that his voice is hoarse. When he turns to look back at his brother his heart drops. A blue and red line loops around his brother’s neck. It looks sore and strained and Choso’s head starts to spin. The area above his eye is bruised as well, with traces of dried blood prevalent under the hairs in his eyebrow. Sukuna notices his stares and turns away.

“I was awake,” he says, unable to get anything else out. The sight has silenced him. 

“Why?” He asks. 

“Just was,”

Choso doesn’t recall a single thing from the car ride home other than it being quiet. Or perhaps it wasn’t. His mind was racing but forming no coherent thought, no inner dialogue to start sorting things out. It was as if his feelings cut them all off. It’s unusual. 

They enter their house again. Choso, being the last one in, closes and locks their front door. As he does so, a wave of peace hits him. It’s a comfort that follows the knowledge that his family is home again. Expect not everyone is. Yuji is still away. So how dare he even feel like that? 

“Sit down,” It’s an order accompanied by a hand pointing towards the kitchen table. Choso throws an eye toward Sukuna, hesitant to believe that he will comply with the words. Yet he doesn’t feel surprised when Sukuna takes a seat next to the window. As if he can feel Choso staring at him he turns to look out the window. Judging by the way the night still cast darkness out there and the reflection of the kitchen lamp in the glass, Sukuna wouldn’t be able to see a thing. Or perhaps he sees the room looking back at him. 

Sukuna knots his fists, shoulders dawn as a shiver passes through his body. Choso’s body moves on autopilot to their living room, fetches his own cardigan before returning to the kitchen. 

Choso wasn’t sure the order had been for him too but he joins his brother at the table. Before sitting down he holds out the cardigan for Sukuna. He takes it without a word and places it in his lap. 

Their dad makes tea. His motions are soft but forced as if he is trying his best to portray the opposite of what he is feeling. The jagged breaths also expose him. Choso feels unbearably aware of how still he is sitting. Sukuna too. Their dad speaks without turning around or breaking away from the task he is doing. 

“How old was he?” The question is followed by silence. Choso’s eyes dart between his brother and dad. Who does he mean? The other person in the car? “Sukuna, how old?” Their dad finally turns around to fix his eyes on his eldest son. Sukuna doesn’t meet them. It’s silent for another moment and Choso doesn’t dare to interrupt. 

“...36” He admits, at last, sounding small in his words but also defensive. Choso sees his dad bite down and clench his jaw. If he didn’t know him, he would probably only see the anger in his dad’s face. But in his eyes, he spots sadness. One that comes from having failed to protect someone you love. Choso knows that feeling well.

“You’re seventeen!!!!” He says, almost shouts, throwing his hands out. Sukuna seems to swallow, still avoiding eye contact but now turning his gaze towards the table. Under the table Choso sees how his hands clench the cardigan he gave him, kneading it in a nervous motion. He swallows again. Choso gets stuck looking at his bruised neck. 

The teapot whistles. The sound cuts through the thick air and interrupts the outburst. Their dad turns back to take it off the stove. He pours the hot water into their cups but just as he is done he grips the countertop, leans over in a strained position. His fingers clench and the knuckles turn white. With a deep inhale he turns to face them again. 

“I love you both, you know that right?” He says, voice sounding like he is about to cry. “I love you all. So fucking much, do you understand that?”

Choso nods. He dares not divert his eyes but he sees that Sukuna remains still. However, he is looking at his father for the first time since throwing him across the room. Their dad pushes his glasses up to dry a tear that escaped his eye. 

“I want nothing more in this world than for all of you to be happy.” He explains. “And safe,” he then adds. His eyes cause Sukuna to look away again. It spills for Choso, tears streaming down his face. He tries to catch them all before it becomes a big deal. He thinks about Yuji and hopes he is sound asleep. 

Their dad, having also collected himself a bit, moves to place their respective mugs with hot tea in front of them. As much as Choso likes tea it feels a bit too tense to drink anything right now.  He gets stuck in not knowing what to say or do. Perhaps he shouldn’t even be there. 

His dad must have had a similar thought because his eyes flicker between them both before asking Choso to go to his room. He takes the mug out of courtesy and makes his way upstairs without objecting, he doesn’t even wish them goodnight. When he gets upstairs he pours the tea into the bathroom sink, staring as the colored liquid disappears out of his sight. Choso realizes that he doesn’t know what his dad said before coming upstairs. Had there been a reason stated as to why he needed to leave? Was it because if he was there there wouldn’t be enough space for Sukuna? Something had happened to him. He needed all their dad’s attention. Choso didn’t have a problem with that. But the thought of his presence preventing that tore away at his soul. 

After far too long he manages to tear his eyes away from the white sink and pace back to his room. He leaves the door open and sits against the side of his bed. From downstairs he hears Sukuna crying. It’s a weep he hasn’t heard since they were kids. Both he and their dad talk but Choso can’t make out any words. 

They talk for so long that the sun starts to rise. It shines in through Choso’s window and casts a shadow of him where he sits, out into the hallway on the second floor. His entire body feels heavy as if he had been using it too much but his eyelids refuse to close. When he hears Sukunas footsteps on the stairs he rises to his feet. Choso catches sight of him as he appears in his doorframe. He walks to stop there as if he already knows that Choso is there to greet him.

As the morning sun casts upon a Sukuna who hasn’t slept god knows how long, is red around his eyes, and with a posture that has lost all confidence, he looks several years younger.  Smaller, almost like Yuji. It looks like he is about to say something but Choso takes a step towards him, throwing his arms around his brother. It takes him back for a split second, then heavy arms meet Choso too. 

“Sorry Cho, I’m really sorry,”

They sleep through the next day. The house feels empty and quiet and Choso finds himself missing Yui more than ever. When the time finally comes for his dad to go pick him up from the station, Choso is already in the car before anyone can object. The train station is fairly close and as they pull up he spots Yuji waving with a big smile in the pick-up area. He looks tanned a happy and Choso feels as though he can take a breath for the first time in two days. 

That is until Yuji picks up his luggage and starts approaching their car. As he takes steps, it becomes apparent that he is severely limping. Choso opens the door to the car before it has even stopped, leaving it as well as the sound of a worried father telling him to slow down. 

Yuji sees him running and pushes out his best apologetic smile, holding out a hand as if to physically stop his brother. 

“Yuji!?” Choso calls. 

“It’s just a sprained ankle, I’m fine,” he states.

He got hurt. 

He got hurt and I wasn't there.

He got hurt and he didn't even tell me.

Choso learns two things that weekend; Sukuna can wear a turtleneck shirt even though it’s in the middle of summer, and Yuji doesn’t call when bad things happen.

Chapter Text

CW: Past trauma regarding Kaori's suicide (no visual descriptions)

It didn’t look like it used to. Apart from the blinds being down, dimming the room like an attic, the chairs were pushed towards the walls. There was barely enough room for the green sleeping bag placed on the ground in the middle. Choso got caught staring at the scene, hundreds of thoughts piecing it together. 

“Choso?” It was a different Geto that met him this morning. His voice carried genuine confusion and upon seeing where Choso’s eyes had gotten stuck he moved to close the gap between his own body and the door frame, protecting what felt like a private part of him that Choso wasn’t meant to see. 

With the door no more ajar than for them to be able to speak face to face, Choso took notice of Geto. His hair was down, his glasses were pushed down all the way to the end of his nose. He was wearing a shirt Choso could only guess was meant for sleeping only.

Something told Choso he had been sleeping. 

The delay in which Geto seemed to perceive the situation didn’t help his case. Choso felt out of place where they stood in silence. Like he had shown up at the wrong time. His dad had been called to fill in for someone who was sick at work, only dropping Choso off outside as opposed to accompanying him all the way to the door. 8.20 was the time he intentionally took note of before exiting the car. He was a bit early.

As if coming out of the initial shock, Geto snapped out of it and shot an eye towards his wristwatch. His face turned into a horrified expression and his eyes flickered between it and Choso. 

“I’m so sorry, please give me one minute,” He holds up one finger as a gesture and proceeds to slam the door shut. Choso is left with nothing but his own anxiety. The imagery starts to dawn on him. The seconds of waiting stretch longer than they should. From inside the room, he can hear him rearrange it. The sound of furniture being moved across the floor slips out as well as a couple of swear words under his breath. 

As if it starts to dawn on Choso too, a strange feeling creeps up his spine. The air feels heavy. He gets the urge to turn on his heel and walk away. Not to be dramatic or cause trouble, he is simply overtaken by an asphyxiating force to remove himself from a situation he hasn’t fully grasped yet. His brain sending signals before being able to reason himself out of it. 

Time ticks down, any sound to break the silence would work as a starting gun to flee the scene. He wasn’t sure where the feeling came from. But despite the insufferable urge for every second that went by it felt more impossible to escape. As he had already waited too long and as soon as he would turn, Geto would open that door and see the target on his back as he gave in to his cowardness. 

It was absurd to get such feelings from a situation that didn’t propose a single threat. He wasn’t scared of Geto. There was no reason for him to not simply go by instructions and wait until he finished. Then why did the sudden opportunity to run from it all cause him such distress?

As if Geto would have read his thoughts he flung the door open. 

“You aren’t thinking about leaving, right?” He says in the middle of a breath. It grounds Choso. Shackles him down. The opportunity is gone. The choice was taken from him. He breathes out and Geto pushes him inside. 

The sleeping bag is gone and the blinds are up. If Choso hadn’t seen the previous state he would have never doubted that it always looked exactly like this. There was an uneasy feeling to that thought. When he takes a seat in his chair Geto bends down into a deep bow. 

“I apologize for that Choso,” he says, head still down. Choso feels himself shake his head before the words come out. 

“It’s okay,” he assures and with that, Geto gets back up. 

“It’s really not,” he sighs. “But enough about that,” He takes a seat in his chair and it’s like it never happened. Geto finishes tying his hair up in a low bun. 

“So, Choso, how are you feeling today?” he asks, wearing his usual small smile.

“Not good.” With the direct confession, the smile is wiped off his therapist's face. It’s not the first time Choso has given him a blunt negative answer, but he knows it will set the tone for the rest of the session. Geto always starts with the same open question, then depending on Choso’s answer he would take it from there. He is flexible, Choso will give him that. 

“How come?” He asks, meeting him with a serious tone. 

“Yuji got hurt. I knew he would get hurt. I was right!” Choso says. He had been waiting to say it ever since he got it confirmed. It had played on repeat in his mind. There would have been no point in saying it to his family, they didn’t fully know the thoughts that had run through his head before Yuji left. But Geto knew. Geto knew he had been right. “He sprained his ankle and they had to go to the hospital and get it wrapped,”

Geto gives him an unreadable expression.

“Seems like they were able to handle it then,” he says. 

No. That’s not what you’re supposed to say.

“And he didn’t call me when it happened, he didn’t even tell me afterward. I only got to see it when he got home,” he continues, further stressing the severity of the situation. Geto looks at him calmly.

“Did he have fun with his friend?” he asks. 

What?

“He was injured. Hurt,”

“I hear that. I also hear that it was taken care of. So, did he have a good time?” It feels as though the room elongates. Suddenly they are sitting a mile apart from each other. He was supposed to be the one who knew I was right. He was supposed to tell me that my feelings were valid. 

“I don’t know,” he says slowly. “He didn’t tell me,” Geto tilts his head towards the side. 

“Then perhaps you should ask? I have a feeling he would like to tell you if he knows you want to hear it,” he says, the smile back on his face. Somehow it makes Choso angry. Geto turns serious again. “Choso, your dad called and told me about what happened this weekend,” he continued, reaching out for his notebook. He flips it open without looking at it. 

“Why? You’re supposed to talk to me, right? And I’m telling you right now what happened. Yuji got hurt,” The anger spills a bit. It’s not intentional.

“I mean what happened with Sukuna,” he says. Choso gives him a second to make the words go back into his mouth. They don’t.

“I don’t want to talk about Sukuna, I want to talk about Yuji,” he states, irritated. Geto doesn’t shy away.

“Maybe that’s why we should talk about him,” he tries, voice borders between soft and stern. 

“There is nothing to say,” he lies in an attempt to steer the conversation. 

“Okay,” Geto closes the notepad and places it in his lap. “Then I will ask you what I want to know instead,” 

Choso lets his silence speak for his displeasure. Geto proceeds anyway.

“Does it scare you when Sukuna gets angry?” he asks. Choso wasn’t prepared for a question that direct and his agitation causes him to dismiss it a bit.

“I don’t know, I don’t think about it a lot,” he says. Truth be told, he really doesn’t. 

“Why is that?” Geto challenges. Choso stops to study him. The atmosphere is different today. He doesn’t feel the same safety as the last couple of times. Choso wonders if it has anything to do with what he saw. If this is Geto’s way of getting back at him. The thought of that makes him anxious.

“He just gets angry, he does things, and then it’s over. There is nothing more to it,” he explains. 

“Has it always been like that?” he asks. The questions feel piercing. As if he has pointed a laser straight into his brain, targetting one single part that he has decided he wanted to see today. Choso doesn’t like it. He wants to be in control of what he shares and what topics they discuss. No one would know what’s most relevant better than him, right?

“Pretty much,” he sighs. “At least ever since Yuji was born I guess,” 

“Did it change Sukuna?” Geto asks. Choso takes a moment to recall memories from an early childhood. 

“It did,” he then states. They were both so young. Nothing but blurry images flood his mind. But he remembers the photos. Unless they are lying he can clearly see a happy older brother. 

“In what way?” The way in which Geto speaks further engraves the seriousness. Choso isn’t sure they need to be this serious when talking about this. 

“Angry,” he simply states at first. On pure instinct, he just blurted out the first word that came to mind. “After Yuji was born he became angry. He has always hated Yuji,” he pauses a couple of seconds. “And naturally therefore I hate him,” he points to the notebook in Geto’s lap. “It’s like this,” Geto looks a bit perplexed before flipping open a blank page and handing it to him together with his pen. Choso draws.

He shows Geto his drawing. On it are the letters in a circle and arrows between them marked with angry faces. He points to the letter S.

“Sukuna hates Yuji, Yuji hates me, I hate Sukuna,” he explains, moving his finger around the circle. Geto listens attentively. “It’s the circle of hate,”

“Hmm, an awful lot of angry faces here,” he holds out his hand in a request to get his notebook back. Choso gives it to him and watches as Geto gets out of his seat and heads over to his desk. He gets a gnarling feeling that he has done something wrong. That Geto will put the notebook away and ask him to leave. 

Instead, he fishes a red pen out of a jar and comes back. Without looking up at Choso he proceeds to draw something in the notebook. It takes a few seconds, then he flips it back to display it. 

There is a red arrow going in the opposite direction between Choso and Yuij. Next to it, there is a heart.

“There is at least some love too, right?” he asks, flashing a subtle smile. Choso looks at the image before grabbing both notebook and pen from Geto again. He adds another line before showing Geto. 

“And here,” Geto looks at the red line between Yuji and Sukuna. When he reaches his hand out again Choso already knows what he wants. Pen meets the paper. 

“And perhaps like this?” Geto says and turns the drawing back for Choso to see. One last line with a heart between Sukuna and Choso completes the red circle. Choso can’t help but scoff.

“I highly doubt it,” he says. Geto only smiles. 

“Sometimes I really wish I could talk to all of you boys,” he says and places the open notebook on the table next to him. “So, you say that Yuji’s birth was the event that turned Sukuna angry and reactive?”

“Yes,” Choso answers.

“So it’s not the death of your mother?” Choso’s mind goes blank. It’s as if he can’t even answer the question even if he wants to. The gateway to those thoughts is completely closed off. Perhaps Geto spots it because he speaks again.

“Do you remember that day?” A simple yes and no question.

“I guess,” Choso says.

“Would it feel okay to tell me about it?” Geto asks. “I know it’s a long time ago, but just what you remember,” If Geto says anything more, Choso doesn’t hear it. He drifts away in thoughts he hasn’t visited in a very very long time. No one has ever asked him to talk about it before.

“We were visiting grandpa,” he starts, possibly interrupting Geto. 

“Who are ‘we’?” Geto says before he can continue. 

“Me, Sukuna, and dad,” He receives an approving nod to continue. “We were visiting grandpa so that mom could spend time alone with Yuji,” He pauses but no questions fill the silence. “Not for long, just over the day maybe,”

“Do you remember how mom was during that time?” Geto asks softly as if his words threaten to break something. 

“I only remember her being sad and angry. In the photos, she looked happy but that’s how I remember her,” 

“I see. Go on,” Geto encourages. Choso swallows the lump that has started to form in his throat. 

“We came home. Sukuna was happy because he was going to see mom again,” Choso recalls a tiny bit of jealousy over not being his mom’s favorite son. But it’s a feeling, not a memory. “But when we opened the front door Yuji was crying so loudly,”

Remembering the sound is what breaks the barrier that has kept Choso’s tears from flooding. Yet again, he has reached the stage of crying without realizing it himself. He gratefully accepts the tissue Geto hands him. 

“Sukuna ran ahead even though dad told him not to. Then he started to scream too,” He clench the, now wet, paper. Geto waits him out. “Dad put me in the bathroom and closed the door. I wasn’t tall enough to reach for the handle. In the end, that’s what saved me from seeing what they all saw,”

Choso takes a second to look up at Geto. He wonders how therapists have been told to react when they are told about bad things that have happened. Are they even allowed to react? Upon meeting his therapist's eyes he realized that the answer he sought could never be found. Geto doesn’t look unhazed. He doesn’t stare back with a blank smile. Neither does he cry or wear a look of pity. But there is a very human crease on his forehead. Choso doesn’t find his answer because therapists are people too. They will react how they react. As people. 

“Then dad screamed too,” he says, the words dying towards the end.

Choso will never forget the sound of him. Or any sound he heard that day. It’s engraved so deeply into his ears and brain that even the sounds of people being loud and happy distort into the voices of absolute despair and terror. And that day, the voices of people of three different ages morphed together into an indescribable tune. He hears it when the roller coaster drops, when the ambulance passes them on the highway, when people cheer for the winning team in soccer. It’s a sound he can never escape. It’s the shapeless monster of grief he never got to look at. 

He glances down at his hands. He sees them shake but doesn’t feel it. The shiver continues up his arms. The room has a comfortable temperature. There is no reason for his body to react this way. He can tell Geto sees it and he feels a bit embarrassed by it. 

“Then dad came with Yuji to the bathroom and put him next to me. When dad left again Yuji was still crying so I picked him up,” It’s difficult to remember a Yuji that tiny. He wasn’t even two months old by that time. Despite all that Choso has a hard time finding his teenage voice when talking about that day. He notes using simpler sentences than normally, almost as if it’s not his sixteen-year-old self verbalizing, but a much younger one. “When I held him he stopped crying. He just looked up at me,” He pauses, feeling himself drift away a bit. “That’s when I realized that I needed to take care of him. As his older brother, I needed to care for and protect him,”

“And you have been doing that really well Choso,” The words pull Choso out of the haze. Another tear leaves and he dries it before it makes it past his cheek. 

“You think?” He says, realizing how small he sounds. Geto smiles back at him and hands him another tissue. 

“I do,” he states as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. As if they aren’t there because Choso isn’t doing a good job. Somehow in Choso’s heart that’s what it all boiled down to. That no matter how hard he loves Yuji, how much he tries, he still doesn’t like him. And it’s crushing him. That’s what they are there for, right?

The next tissue is already wet so his sleeve will have to do. For some reason, the tears won’t stop. It’s like his eyes are crying on their own. 

“You know, sometimes, even though you do everything right, you can’t reach someone,” Geto starts. It comes out a bit slow as if he is still thinking of what to say mid-sentence. “From your side, you can only try to convey what is most true to you. That you can work on. To better communicate what you mean. We talked about that, right?” He awaits confirmation from Choso before continuing. He answers with a nod. 

“But how it is taken in by the other person is out of your hands. Sure, at times you can be sneaky to work around it, but that usually isn’t a healthy long-term solution,” He explains. Choso wipes his nose, an action that grants him yet a tissue. 

“You know, most of the time when I get clients who struggle with communication and relationships we end up with the conclusion that the problem isn’t on one part only. Situations tend to be more complex than what we like them to be,” he adjusts in his seat, switching which leg he has over the other. 

“What I’m saying Choso, is that you can only love your brother to the best of your ability. You can communicate it clearly and in several ways. But it will also be up to him if he will accept that love,” The lump in Choso’s is back. He puts the question he has on his tongue, hesitates before asking. 

“So he isn’t interested in love from me?” Geto starts shaking his head before he finishes speaking.

“I meant that there might be something in Yuji that makes it hard for him to accept the unconditional love you are giving him,” Choso breathes through the words he is hearing. “I don’t know for sure, since I haven’t spoken to Yuji. But it could be worth thinking about,”

Choso chokes up again. Could it really be true? That Yuji is blocking himself from receiving love? Does he find himself undeserving of it? But Yuji gives so much love, he should know it must be received as well?

“And I mean that for you as well,” Geto reaches over to grab the notebook again. Choso takes another look at their collaborative scribble. “Learning how to receive the love that’s thrown our way will never be in vain,” The red line between the C and S suddenly feels thicker than the rest. “And Choso, sometimes it’s the things we do for ourselves that help others the most,”

“You mean like a role model?” Choso asks. Geto tears the page and hands it to Choso. 

“Exactly,” he says softly. Choso fribbles with the note, takes one last hard look at what it portrays and what it means before he folds it and puts it in his pocket.

Geto rises from his chair and Choso realizes without looking that their time is over. He gets up on legs that feel unusually shaky when a memory floods him. With his hand over his mouth, he attempts to stop the audible sob that escapes. Geto, who was in a motion to follow him out of the room, halts. 

“Do you want to sit back down? I still have ten minutes befo-”

“Sukuna saved Yuji,” It’s a confession. One that’s long due to come out. One that he wished Sukuna would have heard. 

“What?” Geto asks, not following the context. Choso takes a hitched breath. 

“When we were kids. He saved him from drawing once,” he manages to explain. A droplet leaves his forehead and he realizes that he is sweating. “Why would he do that if he hates him? If he wants him dead like he has always said?” The last bit comes out as a mumble. In a storm of confusing thoughts and pakes emotions, he crumbles a bit. He sobs into the cover of his own hand. 

Suddenly he feels a hand on his shoulder. He leans into the figure and lets himself be embraced. With the hand still over his eyes he shields Geto’s shirt from getting wet as he weeps. 

“Probably because he doesn’t hate him,” He says in a low voice. Choso hears him. 

“It’s all a mess, isn’t it?” He asks, feeling himself mellowed by the comfort. 

“Yeah, it is,” Geto says with a sigh. “But that’s alright,”

Chapter Text

Today is not a good day. Choso felt it as soon as the alarm went off and he swung his legs over the edge of his bed. It’s far from the first time he has woken up with a headache and a heart that beats a bit too fast. Rising to his feet he also feels the dizziness kick in and he props his hands against the desk. 

It’s been a while since he had symptoms. In fact, it’s been a while since he had to think about any of this at all. He takes long deep breaths in an attempt to get rid of the feeling, sweaty hands dampening the wooden desk. Choso is aware that his anemia is chronic. He knows he should keep tabs on it and be prepared for backslides but when everything feels okay for a while it’s easy to forget that you aren’t ‘normal’. Besides, it’s annoying. 

“Hey, have you seen the brat?” Sukuna slams down his cereal bowl on the seat opposite Choso. The abrupt noise makes him jump. Sukuna gives him a side-eye. 

“Yesterday he said he was going to hang out with some friends before lunch. And don’t call him that,” Choso replies, mouth full of a spoon of Reese’s puffs and milk. An aspirin for the headache and some food in his body definitely helped. At least enough to not make anything noticeable from the outside. 

Sukuna moves swiftly across the floor between the table and the fridge. In addition to the cereal already in front of them, he gets the toaster and some of last night’s dinner. Choso watches him work and wonders if it’s the anger that makes Sukuna so hungry. It probably takes a lot of energy to go around like a raging thunder all day. Speaking of energy, Sukuna seem to have gained what Choso lacked in that department this morning. It’s unusual for him to seem this awake before breakfast. 

“Dad called, he asked us to get groceries today. Thought I could put that useless little shit to some good use,” Sukuna explains. He doesn’t give Choso time to open his mouth in displeasure about yet another degradation. “Since he is so wonderful and strong I mean,” He fails to give Choso a sarcastic smile. Instead, his face forms a look of disgust. “Bet he would volunteer too,”

“I’ll get groceries,” Choso simply replies, too tired to debunk everything his brother had just said. It’s too early and his head still hurts. The energy to challenge Sukuna isn’t quite there. 

“See, you’re just the same. Pathetic!” He says and makes it a point to sigh as he sits down. Eyes under furrowed brows scan Choso from down to up. “You‘re so fucking ugly. You look just like her,”

If there is anything Choso dislikes hearing it’s that. It’s been painfully obvious to him how he doesn’t match the rest of his family in the slightest. The pink hair, skin that easily tans, and even the shape of the face is something his brothers share with their dad. He sticks out like a sore thumb when they are all together. Looking like her has never served him, not when he doesn’t remember anything nice about her. Therefore Sukuna’s words hit harder than they should. 

“Bet that hag had an affair,” He pauses to look at Choso again mids pouring milk into his bowl, presumably to see if there was any reaction. Choso hopes he can’t tell how he is holding back tears for dear life. “You might as well be adopted,”. 

Choso thinks of Geto and all his theories that Sukuna actually likes him. That his true emotions don’t come out with the way he expresses himself. But Choso genuinely wonders what type of hidden emotion Sukuna would have behind words like this.. It doesn’t make any sense to him. 

And neither does both looking just like their deceased mom and being adopted. He knows Sukuna is saying these things to hurt him. The words serve absolutely no other purpose than to hate. It’s nothing new though. Particularly the phrase “you’re adopted” is something he has heard come from that mouth for almost ten years now. But they work. It hurts.

“Yeah trust me, I wish I didn’t look like this,” Choso says as he gets up from the table. The look Sukuna forgets to hide doesn’t fly over his head but he ignores it, placing bowl and spoon in the sink. Only with the back against his brother does he let his tears fall and before his voice can rat him out he leaves the room. 

“Tsk, at least put your hair up” he hears Sukuna mutter. 

They end up going together to the grocery store. It’s less than a ten-minute walk from their house, perfectly doable on the way there. A bit more troublesome on the way back when you have food for a family of four to carry. 

They walk in silence. Sukuna has his hands placed in his pockets as he strides the sidewalk half a meter in front of Choso. He isn’t sure why Sukuna followed him. He had made it pretty clear that he didn’t want to do it and Choso has volunteered so it should have been all set. And it’s not like he seemed to enjoy his company based on how the morning went. But perhaps it wasn’t something to overthink. Perhaps it was just another instance of being deemed as an unreliable brother. 

They picked a good time to go shopping. The store is fairly quiet to Choso’s great relief. People-filled spaces were a great source of his anxiety and the stress of others overwhelmed him. But it’s mostly senior citizens who shop before lunch. And they move slowly. 

Choso really starts to question his purpose when Sukuna starts loading groceries into the cart he drags behind him. He feels needless and useless as he puts all his focus on just keeping up with Sukuna. Just when he is about to ask to drag the cart Sukuna turns around and hands him the handle. 

“I forgot something, stay here,” He disappears towards the beginning of the store and Choso is left idle. It doesn’t take long before it makes him uncomfortable. If Sukuna just would have given him the list he could have continued. Contributed with something. Yet he functions merely as a cart watcher. Pathetic would be the word. 

He hears the faint voices of a group of teenage boys approaching him. Panic kicks in and he quickly moves to look intently at the canned corn that just happened to be on the shelf closest to the floor. In the corner of his eye, he sees them walk past his isle.

“Hey, I saw Sukuna,” he hears one of them say. 

“Where?” The group seems to stop for a second and Choso feels his heart rate pick up.

“Forget it, he was with his brother,” 

“Yuji??” Having some random people say Yuji’s name makes Choso uneasy. It feels a bit wrong to hear. As if they have no right to say it. Who are these people anyway? Friends of Sukuna?

“No, the autistic one,”

“What are you doing?” Sukuna’s voice takes Choso back to reality and he quickly moves to stand up. As he does so he feels the pounding in his chest. Instinctively he presses a hand towards it as if to control it from the outside. He tries to focus his eyes on Sukuna but his ears are ringing a bit. His mouth is moving but he can’t hear what he is saying. 

“What?” He mumbles before swallowing. His mouth is dry. 

“I said you look pale,” Sukuna repeats. 

“I don’t wanna hear more of that,” he says and pushes past Sukuna, cart in hand. He can tell his steps are wobbly, nothing he can’t walk off. Right now the last thing he needs is another bash at his looks. 

“Cho, hold up,” Suddenly, two hands are pushing down on his shoulders. Holding him in place to prevent him from walking off. Although he wishes to not admit it, a couple of more breaths before going might not have hurt. Therefore, he complies with Sukuna’s hands, takes the opportunity to gather himself, get some blood into his brain. “Is it bad today?” 

“It’s fine,” he says and gets out of the grip. Sukuna lets him but Choso feels his eyes at the back of his neck as they proceed through the store. If Sukuna had thought of him as unreliable and useless before, walking like a drunk only from standing up too fast definitely didn’t help. Yet again he had proved he was no good. Sukunas eyes burned. 

“I can take that,” The way back home felt unusually long. Almost as if the road itself had stretched out just to mess with him. Steps felt slow and heavy but it was his breathing that was the worst problem. He shouldn’t be this out of breath from just carrying one bag of groceries. Sukuna was carrying two and he seemed fine. A stretched-out hand was even anticipating a third.

“No, I will do it,” he replies, trying his best to hide how winded he is. Judging by Sukuna's previous question he was already doing a lousy job. Either way, there was no way he would give that bag to Sukuna. He keeps his hand out for a couple more seconds before he clicks his tongue and moves to hold one bag in each hand again. Silence falls over them again. 

“Have you talked to dad?” Sukuna says when they finally enter their street. Choso wipes his forehead of sweat under his bangs. His voice lacked the edge he presented all morning and it caused Choso to shoot him an eye. 

“About what?” he asks. Sukuna looks straight ahead.

“About the fact that you are having symptoms again,” he says annoyed, as if it would have been obvious that he was referring to that. Somehow the irritation contaminates to Choso and he feels a bit too perceived for his liking. 

“Why do you care?” he snaps back coldly. Sukuna turns his head and looks at him as if he told him something extremely stupid. Something that pissed him off. 

“Who the fuck said I care,” he says after a moment and they resume to silence. 

Upon entering the driveway Choso spots Sukunas old bike - a sign that Yuji is back home. With the knowledge of that, he leaps up the steps to their front door with newfound energy. The door is unlocked and he strides in, Sukuna following close by. 

“We’re home!” He greets but is met with no answer. Footsteps can be heard from upstairs so he decides to let it be for now. Yuji probably just didn’t hear him. Without trying to worry too much, Choso is left wondering if something happened that caused Yuji to come home so soon. Usually, when he is out with friends he doesn’t come home the whole day. Not that he is complaining, having Yuji in the house is a pleasant surprise. Choso wonders if he can get a chance to hang out with him for a bit. Perhaps they could go out and do some sports like they used to when they were younger. Before Yuji grew his own social circle and Choso didn’t. 

Choso and Sukuna start to put away the groceries, something that they have done a million times before. Choso hauling things out of the for Sukuna to place in the appropriate places. A habit that stuck with them from the time Choso was too little to reach the cabinets. It was the destined spots for the older and younger brother. 

Suddenly, the sound of the downstairs bathroom opening cuts the air between them. Strange, perhaps Yuji wasn’t upstairs at all. Just as Choso is about to call for him they hear an unfamiliar voice. 

“Itadori?”

“Yes?” Sukuna and Choso reply instinctively, turning toward where the sound is coming from. As they stare out into the opening towards the hallway they practically hear the footsteps come to a halt. Sukuna, who has been bent over, shoving the last of their groceries into the freezer, straightens his back. The floor creeks again and they are met with a pair of semi-horrified eyes under wild black hair. 

The three of them are left staring at each other in complete silence. The tension hangs in the air and he can practically hear the boy swallow. Choso studies him. A bit taller than Yuji but around the same age. The frame and the black hair reminds Choso of Junpei but the air around him is completely different. 

Choso vividly remembers the first time Yuji brought Junpei to their house. He had been hiding behind his pink-haired friend, too scared to even greet the rest of the family. This boy was different. Although he seemed slightly timid he didn’t shrink. He wasn’t hiding or profusely apologizing. Instead, he drew a sigh. 

“Where is Itadori?” His eyes scan the two brothers with such a dismissive judgment that even Choso felt himself get agitated. In the small head turns he also spots the bandaid on his cheek. That’s when it clicks for Choso who this is. It was obvious. If he wouldn’t have been taken by such surprise he would have seen it right away. 

Megumi Fushiguro. Everyone knew who he was. At least if you went to any of the middle schools in the area they were living. A kid who moved into town last year and had managed to spread more fear amongst delinquents than any adult or authority ever could. His presence had completely shifted the student hierarchy, having bullies looing twice over their shoulders. He was both a hero and a villain depending on who you asked. 

Choso had even gotten the chance to encounter him once. Due to missing the normal test day he had been asked to stay after school to take his test. When he was done and left to go home, some of the guys who usually picked on him had hung around, eager for the chance to act out their desires without the interruption of daytime school personnel. Choso had never been beaten up like that before. Sure, he had taken some physical hits before but three guys against one in the darkness of the after-hours had been completely different. 

And it was in the middle of tasting blood and dirt in his mouth that a lanky boy with spiked black hair showed up. It was over before Choso realized the young boy was there to fight. Before that, he was just rumors to him. That night he became a legend. 

At least that’s what Choso had thought at the time. Megumi had disappeared as fast as he had appeared when the job was done. Choso wasn’t one to stick around either. Since then he hadn’t really thought about him. He doubts Megumi remembers him, but it sure is difficult to forget someone who wears his hair like that and causes trouble wherever he goes. Currently, the bigger question was; what is the top delinquent doing in the hallway of their house?

“I’m Itadori,” Sukuna says, crossing his arms over his chest. He takes a step towards Megumi to study him. Megumi gets a disturbed look on his face but doesn’t move an inch.

“Uhmm not you,” he says, giving Choso an eye as well. Choso feels how his jaw clenches. When he had been on the ground Megumi had seemed tall, now he was just a skinny pip-squeek. 

“Well, I’m the Itadori,” Sukuna follows, sounding slightly annoyed but surprisingly amused.  “Now who the hell are you?”

“Fushiguro?” From atop the stairs, they hear Yuji call. The name being spoken so fondly from his younger brother’s mouth makes Choso’s stomach turn. The idea of Megumi Fusiguro, a guy who gives people a taste of their own medicine, was good, he had to admit that. But him being friends with Yuji put a completely different taste in his mouth. Yuji’s steps thunder down the stairs and he enters Choso’s view. Choso is the first person he looks at. Then he turns to Megumi. 

“Ah, Fushiguro, these are my brothers,” he says, almost proudly pointing his whole arms towards Choso first and then Sukuna. Megumi doesn’t take his eyes off the eldest who is still looking him up and down with a raised brow and smug smile. 

“Yeah, we just met,” he says, flatly. Yuji seems to catch the atmosphere and a more troubled look appears on his face. 

“What happened to your face?” Sukuna asks, nodding his head up towards Megumi’s semi-swollen cheek. With that comment Yuji visibly reacts, taking a step forward as to physically guard his friend. 

“Hey, don’t bother Fushiguro!” He says. Choso can’t help but feel a sense of triumph at the moment. It’s very rare for Yuji to stand up to Sukuna like that. Pride fills him and he decides to let that emotion win over the worry that it’s some thug-kid that seems to have brought it out of him. Has he already had a bad influence on Yuji? Or good? He is unable to tell. 

“Shut up brat, I’m just talking to him,” Sukuna snaps. The tone is aggressive but he looks back at Megumi with what can only be described as a smile. Choso hasn’t seen Sukuna look at someone like that before. Especially not someone who is talking back. 

If the goal was to charm Megumi, Sukuna has severely failed because at that comment Megumi gives Sukuna an eye that could kill. Apparently, there is one more person in the world who is enraged upon hearing Yuji be berated. It should be a comfort but it isn’t. 

Choso looks at the two young boys. He tries to piece them together, continuously turning their puzzle pieces to see if they have a side that they connect. He tries, with all his knowledge of Yuji, and his little idea of Megumi, to see how they would possibly end up in the same house. Did Yuji bring him home so that he could patch him up? That would certainly fit into his nurturing character. Or did Megumi help Yuji out? No, Yuji is strong enough on his own. There is no way they are friends, right? Yuji hates violence, and violence is second nature to the other. 

Upon seeing Megumi’s eyes narrow, Yuji quickly grabs hold of his arms and pulls him away. Megumi follows as if being dragged around fits perfectly into his character. It doesn’t. 

“Let’s go Fushiguro,” Choso hears him say as they disappear into the hallway and eventually up the stairs. Sukuna lifts his hand to wave them away. He seems unusually pleased when he turns back towards Choso. 

“Since when did that brat have cool friends? Thought he only hung out with losers,” he asks, a smile still on his face as he fetches the grocery bags to put them away. Choso bites his tongue at the words. 

“I miss Junpei,” he says instead. Not that he has been very fond of any of Yuji’s friends. Sukuna snorts. 

“That kid was weird as hell,” he says. Choso can’t deny it. 

“He was really nice,” he counters. Because he was. Nice and quiet and put a lot of life in Yuji. But the best thing about Junpei was that he never wanted to go out. A playdate with Junpei meant that Yuji remained home, waves of laughter coming from his bedroom where they stayed cozied up watching movie after movie. Choso got to have him close by and happy, he almost couldn’t ask for more.

“So who is this new kid?” Sukuna asks, leaning into the hallway to glance up the stairs and if traces of Megumi still remain. Choso truly can’t put his finger on what about that kid makes Sukuna so cheerful all of a sudden. It’s annoying. So annoying. Because if there was ever a moment that Sukunas anger would be of good use it would be to protect Yuji. And something told Choso that this kid meant a lot of trouble. Trouble he wanted no way near his precious Yuji. But of course, it would be at that moment that Sukuna does a 180 and becomes the most supportive guy ever. Great Nana, really great. 

“Megumi Fushiguro. Heard he is adopted,” he mutters, slinking past Sukuna in the door frame to go upstairs too. Worry knotting in his stomach. 

“Hm,” he hears Sukuna respond from behind him. 

Since that day Sukuna hasn't told Choso he is adopted. 

Chapter Text

CW: Non-detailed mention of self-harm (cutting) and blood

The smell of coffee was worse than before and unlike other times, Choso didn’t find the same comfort in the dark aroma. It hung in the air and the room smelled a bit shut in. He couldn’t help but wonder when the last time Geto aired the room out was. Could you even open those thick windows?

Choso eyed his therapist. Today he seemed neatly put together. Hair up in a tight bun, dark shirt, black pants, glasses, and wedding ring on. He wondered if Geto still hadn’t seen his family. Did he live here now? In this room?

“You seem to have a lot on your mind Choso,” It was a statement spoken without judgment yet it felt difficult to pick up the thread Geto had just handed him. Because that threat needed to connect to one of the ones currently worming around behind his skull. There were too many of them and they moved too fast. So he simply nods. 

If he were honest, he really didn’t want to attend therapy today. It was one of those days when his brain got foggy from a migraine. He felt out of energy and if it was one thing therapy was, it was draining. He felt vulnerable enough when his body was in full function so how it would feel now that he was already down frightened him. Perhaps he should talk to his dad about this after all…

“Start somewhere,” Geto encourages, eyes fixated on his client. Expectations burned through his skin and boiled in his veins, creating that uneasy feeling that makes your body move on its own. It’s a feeling he wishes he could have shaken off. But it’s carried by the heavy silence. 

His mind wanders around the room again. How can you even live in a room where you have no normal windows? Won’t you go insane? Perhaps Geto was insane. It didn’t show though if that was the case.

“I don’t know where,” he settles with saying. For some reason, he feels more anxious than ever in the room. Almost as if how small he feels will be visible and let Geto down. Shouldn’t he have grown? Shouldn’t he be getting better and be happier already? Is there even a point to this?

“That’s okay,” Geto reassures. He pulls back the arms of the dark blue shirt he has on like you do when you are getting serious. “Is it a good thing when Choso is quiet? Or bad?” 

The question throws Choso off guard. Being spoken to in the third person also feels a bit degrading. He can’t fully judge the look Geto is giving him. It is as though he is masking his true intentions until he is given an answer. For some reason, it makes Choso not want to give it to him. 

“I don’t know. I’m always the same I think,” he tries. It is not a complete dismissal but he avoids diving into the sensitive part of himself. It’s surface level. An answer on demand. Geto’s lip thins out in a lukewarm smile. 

“I think you are more quiet today. Any reason for that?” Choso feels himself swallow through a clenched jaw. He has to remind himself to relax. Headaches always put him in a constant state of tension. Under the spotlight, there is no chance for him to shake it out or even stretch his neck without Geto analyzing his every move. It frustrates him in the moment. 

Attempting to be sneaky, he shrugs slowly, serving both as an answer and a stretch. 

“You don’t want to tell me?” He asks, tilting his chin up slightly. Choso swallows again. It’s not that Geto seems unpleased with him. He wears the same warm smile and speaks with the same calming tone. But it’s the weight of the words. The implication that he isn’t able to give him what he wants - that’s what’s causing another knot in his stomach. 

“Not really,” he says, even though he knows it will only make matters worse. Why is it always that the more the words need to come out, the harder it is? Further dismissing every question thrown his way won’t accomplish anything, but in a way, it feels too late to crawl out of. 

“Then I think you should,” Choso is frozen under Geto’s gaze. His eyes don’t waver. There is no running from these questions. The pushback pushes his back into a corner that he would rather turn around and bury his face into. It’s not even a big deal. Just answer the damn question. 

“It’s not even a big deal. Why do you even want to know?” He says instead. It comes out with more irritation than intended and it causes his heartbeat to pick up. Choso isn’t one to cause conflicts. He hates it when people are upset with him. So why can’t he just give Geto what he asks for?

The words are not even on his tongue. He isn’t preparing himself to say it. They slink further down his throat until they are buried and forgotten with the rest of the possible attack points. 

Perhaps that’s it. He just feels too vulnerable. No defense. 

Geto writes something in his notebook before tearing the entire page off. He folds the note and places it between them. Choso looks at it underneath his hand he is intentionally still having over it. 

“I wrote it down. Why I want to know,” He says before slowly removing his hand. Choso looks at the paper, unsure if he should grab it or not. “You can look at it after you tell me,” They meet eyes again. Geto doesn’t seem angry with him despite his non-compliance. It eases his heart but doesn’t unthicken the feeling in his throat. He takes another look at the note. Suddenly, he gets an idea. 

Before he can fully reach for the notebook Geto catches on and hands it over. Lines on a paper become easy to do.

Headache. Tired. Anemia symptoms.

Geto reads and nods slowly. 

“Does it happen a lot?” He asks, pushing his glasses up. 

“Lately it has, but usually no,” Choso feels like it’s a useless answer but Geto seems to get something out of it. The crease in his forehead is back and his smile gets wiped off. He hops forward on his chair to get closer. 

“I have to ask, but have you lost blood recently?” Choso’s head takes a spin. It’s as though it has to double-check with the memory bank before answering. He knows the answer is no, but he gets the feeling that what Geto is getting at might be different than what he is hearing. 

“No, I haven’t,” He answers. Geto’s eyes slim, scanning him like a live lie detector. “I think,” he adds, in mere unsureness over the situation. 

“Have you been self-harming? Cutting yourself or something similar?” Choso’s heart skips a beat for real this time. As if he had been caught in the middle of the act itself. There is no bad feeling tailing Geto’s question. But he has also never met anyone who has asked such a thing, and even less, with such confidence. As if it was a normal question to ask. It truly took him by surprise.

“I haven’t,” he replies. Geto’s eyes won’t let him go. 

“Ever?” He asks. Choso looks at him and contemplates lying. It would be so easy to just say no. End the discussion and move on to something better. But something makes it difficult to do so. Whether it’s the sincerity of Geto or how calmly yet seriously he asked it, Choso isn’t sure.

“In the past I have,” he admits, feeling the sweat pool in his hands. “But that was a good while ago,” Using past tense when speaking about it is probably the only thing allowing the words to leave his mouth. It’s so embarrassing. So incredibly embarrassing. 

“What made you stop?” It’s such an odd question. It almost leaves behind a tail of ‘why’. Choso has to take an extra few seconds to push that part away, keep his own sanity and sincerity to meet Geto’s. 

“I hate blood,” he states simply. At that, Geto gives him a sad smile. Choso dries his hands against his jeans. 

“What do you do instead?” Choso thinks long and hard. It’s almost quiet for too long before he finds the answer.

“I cry,” At the words, Geto’s shoulders sink a bit. Choso hadn’t even noticed the heightened tension in his therapist as well. For some reason it’s comforting.

“You asked me why I wanted to know,” he says in an exhale and nods for Choso to take the note. He slowly grabs it and unfolds it around. 

Trust

“Trust,” he reads out loud. Geto nods and scoots back in his chair again.  

“What do you think that means?” It’s such an open question that Choso doesn’t find a place to start. What the word itself means, what it means to him, what it means for Geto. There are a lot of different interpretations with different ways of answering each. He takes another look at Geto and thinks of their conversation before he wrote the note. 

“That I have to tell you things truthfully in order for you to trust me,” he says.

“Sure,” Geto nods, accompanied by a deep inhale. “But there is more to it too,” He pauses to give Choso a look that he assumes is to check if Choso is catching on. “I want you to trust me as well,” Choso swallows. “And when there are things you don’t want to tell me it could mean that you have a hard time trusting me. And then I want to know that so that I, or perhaps we, can work on it.”

Choso opens his mouth to speak but decides to shut it again. The words sit harshly in the room with them. He wants to say that it isn’t like that but when he thinks about it again, he isn’t as sure. 

“I never know what you will say, or react,” he says instead. Geto smiles. 

“That is something no one can predict,” he explains. “But yeah, it can make things pretty scary to say, especially if it’s close to heart,” Choso takes the words in and nods slowly feeling his eyes defocus and his mind wander. 

“Sometimes…” he begins but his voice dies off. The silence is unlike before. This time he doesn’t wish or aim to hide things from Geto. He wants to explain his thoughts and feelings but putting them into words that will make sense seems impossible. He tries to connect them in his brain but it sounds juvenile and strange.

“No, go on,” Geto encourages. Choso rubs his fist in the palm of his left hand. The longer he thinks the harder it gets.

“I can’t get my words out,” he admits after a while. It stresses him out. Geto waiting stresses him out too. 

“That’s okay. Take it in bits if you want to, I will help you through it,” he reassures and places the notebook in between them as an option as well. Choso contemplates taking it but resorts to taking back eye contact instead. Perhaps Geto can help piece it together after all. 

“I wish I knew what all of my words would do before I speak them. I wish I knew what everyone was thinking and how to say the right things.” It feels silly to say. He doesn’t want to hear that it isn’t possible because he already knows it isn’t. Perhaps it’s useless information but he continues nonetheless. “I wish I could make it perfect all the time,”

Geto nods slowly again and he seems to think. Choso feels his anxiety rise. 

“I think sometimes our biggest blessing is not being in control over everything,” he says after a couple of seconds of silence. Choso thinks it sounds like a quote and he furrows his brows. Geto catches the expression without breaking into a smile. It allows Choso to feel the words.

“But it’s so delicate,” he says quietly. Emotions well up inside a bit but he doesn’t feel like he has the energy to give them room. 

“What is?” Geto asks.

“Emotions. Interactions.” Choso swallows again. “Every single moment is delicate,”

“The fall is high when you feel like things don’t go the way you wish?” Geto asks, seeking confirmation that he is on the right track. Choso doesn’t need long.

“Yeah,” he says with a couple of quick nods. 

“Tell me about one of those times,” The request is too difficult. Because there is no specific time. Hell, can he even think of a single time when he has been able to handle something correctly?

“It’s all the time,” he states. It feels true.

“When it happens, what does it feel like?”

“It feels like the world is ending. It feels like there is no coming back from messing up,” Choso is aware of how dramatic he sounds, but perhaps it’s the most honest thing he has said to Geto so far. In a way, it feels wrong to open up about these types of things. Because what is Geto going to do about all his impossible desires and high expectations other than shatter them? At times it feels as though they are the thing that keeps his head above the surface. Because if there is no way to perfect it then there is no way to get rid of the crushing feeling.

No, he is just stupid, not enough, too sensitive. He doesn’t want to hear that it’s okay to mess up because it doesn’t feel okay. For some reason that seems to be what people expect of you; to be okay with feeling like that. To just sit with your emotions, and handle them. But when how you feel is what’s killing you it really sucks to hear that it’s okay to feel that way.

“Yeah, I know,” Geto says, his eyes losing themselves in the room similarly to Choso’s earlier. It becomes quiet. Just as Choso is about to ask if he is okay he seems to snap out of it and gives him a smile again. “But in the end, it didn’t right?”

“What?” The pause seemed to have thrown Choso out of his own head too for a moment and he tries to puzzle together what they had been talking about.

“The world didn’t end.” It clicks and Choso attempts to not show any disappointment in his face. It’s exactly what he doesn’t want to hear. He knows the world didn’t end. He knows he ‘survived’ the feeling. He also knows why Geto makes such comments but right now it only makes him feel stupid for saying anything at all. He wonders if he hides it well enough on his face. 

“And people forgive,” Geto continues. Those words strike something in Choso. Something that interrupts the trainwreck of thoughts and feelings he had spun into. “Your dad forgives, right?” He can only nod as an answer. “And your brothers?”

“Yeah,” he says, feeling something crumble inside. A wall he had been unaware of until it started to shake. 

“Yuji is still there. He is still your brother.” Choso feels himself take a deep breath. Then another one. And another one. He has decided he won’t break down today. Not when he already has a headache and his legs feel weak. “And when you get home he might be there and you guys might eat lunch together,”

Choso shakes his head and closes his eyes in a futile attempt to shut the tears out. 

Damn it.

“I’m not sure this time,” he says, eyes still shut.

“What happened?” Even though he can’t see him it’s crystal clear. The weight behind his tone and the way he asks says it all. It almost makes him chuckle in the middle of the turmoil. Because for some reason Geto had managed to catch onto something that he wasn’t even aware of himself. Found the end of the thread that was moving the fastest, grabbed it, and pulled. 

Sure, the fact that Choso felt physically ill was a big contributor to his mood. Choso himself would have labeled it the cause. That was before Geto decided to dig out what happened yesterday. It wasn’t that Choso had forgotten. Not at all. But it hurt and therefore it got pushed back, down-prioritized on a day where walking up the stairs was a challenge. But Geto had always aimed to push it front center. Behind his last question was another set of words. 

Gotcha!

“I-,” Choso opens his eyes again to face his therapist. His annoyingly skilled therapist.“I messed up,”

“In what way?” Geto asks.

“I said something that made him angry,” Choso admits, drying the tears that had managed to slip out. 

“What did you say?” He speaks with an urgency. Not one that makes you feel like you have to speak quickly, but perhaps an indication that he will leave no room for Choso to slip out of the grip he has been placed in.

“He has this new friend, Megumi-” Choso starts but is interrupted. 

“Megumi??” Geto’s eyes are wide and his mouth hangs open slightly. It’s so unlike him to lose his composure that Choso doesn’t have time to register the oddness of the interruption. 

“Yeah,” is all he can reply.

“How- how did this Megumi seem? Does he seem like a happy guy?” Choso watches Geto hold his breath a bit. He is acting very strange. Why is he so curious about Megumi?

“I don’t know, he seems pretty messed up. He keeps beating people up and stuff,” Choso answers in all honesty. “It’s worrisome right?”

“Yeah…” Geto’s eyes drift away but Choso sees a chance for mutual understanding.

“Exactly, I don’t want Yuji to get involved with any trouble like that. So I told him to watch out for this kid but it made him really angry,” he states. 

Choso isn’t sure if it was something he said but Geto suddenly snaps out of it, his usual placid smile reappears and he nods towards the note that is currently getting wet and wrinkly between Choso’s fingers. 

“Perhaps Yuji is asking you for some of that,” he says.

“Trust?” Choso asks

“Yeah,”

“I do trust Yuji,” he starts. Choso really does trust Yuji. He knows no one more genuine and good-intended towards everyone and everything. “But I want to make sure he is safe,” he adds, hoping they aren’t contradictory statements.

“So you don’t trust his ability to choose good friends?” Geto challenges. His eyes carry a certain wit set out to crack whatever ideals Choso has. “Or perhaps you trust your own judgment more than his?”

“I just want what’s best for him,” Choso replies. To be frank, he doesn’t know what else to answer. Geto leans forward a bit again, placing one hand in the other. 

“I believe that not trusting is an act of protection. Sure, choosing when and when not to trust someone or something can have big consequences. But that goes both ways. There is no saying that distrust will result in more successful outcomes than trusting.” he says. Choso bites his lip. “I think that it can often be a false sense of security that we comfort ourselves with. Not trusting makes us feel more in control.”

What Geto says gives him a bad feeling in his chest. One that makes him want to look back and analyze all those moments again, think about it from the perspective Geto offered. At the same time, it feels terrifying. And it certainly doesn’t help that he used the same word as Yuji; ‘control’.

That was never the intention. Or was it? Choso’s head spins a bit. He doesn’t want to think of it as him controlling Yuji. At the same time, would he mind doing that? But it’s horrible to be controlled. He doesn’t want to put Yuji through that. It becomes complicated and he realizes that he should take the discussion outside his own head. 

“He said that. He said that he felt like I was controlling him,” he admits. “And I suppose I might be,”

“It’s okay,” Geto says immediately. Even though he says it Choso doesn’t feel like it’s actually okay. “You know, just like you trust your own ability to judge what’s right for him better than his, he probably trusts himself more than you in that aspect. And he wants you to trust him in that,” 

Choso nods slowly and tries to follow Geto’s analogy. The idea of Yuji seeking trust from him particularly sticks. Because if there is anything he wishes it’s to meet every request Yuji has. To even be offered one is rare. 

“Giving him that trust doesn’t mean you have to abandon everything you believe,” Geto continues. “But I also believe that when there is trust in a relationship it becomes a good recipe for honest communication. Do you understand what I mean?”

“Kinda,” Choso answers. They have talked about good communication before. Perhaps trust is a really important key there. Or the other way around.

“There is probably no stopping Yuji from being friends with Megumi, but you being against it might make him not come to you if he makes the wrong judgment.” Hearing those words makes Choso react. They shoot a sting to his heart and become a painful reminder of all the times Yuji decides not to confide in him. As an older brother, there is probably nothing that makes you feel more failed than that.

“Shouldn’t it be the other way around? Since I would be right?” He questions.

“No, since he would be wrong,” Geto replies. The situation dawns on Choso.

“I understand,” he says with shame. Geto sinks back into his chair, fingers drawing circles over the fabric of the armrest. 

“However, of course, it’s not as simple as that. I think you have every right to raise concerns with Yuji when you have them. That will be a good and honest communication from your side. There might be no stopping him from reacting strongly to that, who knows. It’s a really difficult thing to balance,” Choso nods at his words. It feels a bit good to hear that he doesn’t have to completely stop everything he has been doing. At times he really does feel like a freak. Someone who needs to reform at every cost. 

“Yeah, we talked about communicating the right thing,” he paraphrases and Geto smiles affirmly. 

“Exactly. And it’s difficult,” he repeats. 

“Because you can’t know how people will react,” Choso says. Everything they have talked about is coming together, connecting ends, and creating a structure that seems almost as complex as his own knot of problems. But he supposes that’s just how it is. The more sessions he has had, the more he realizes that there are no absolute solutions to things. No one-size-fits-all quick fix.

“But it’s in that you build trust. That’s why I say it’s a blessing to be out of control. Because it gives room for trust,” Geto gives him a second to let the words sink in before he continues. “And if you ask me, trust is one of the greatest gifts you can give and receive,”

“I want that with Yuji,” Choso says. Thinking about it now, he hasn’t realized how much he has craved it. All the thoughts about being reliable comes down to trust. He thinks for another moment before he ads; “And perhaps with Sukuna too,”

“That makes me very happy to hear,” Geto smiles big. It feels good to see him be pleased. Choso feels like it doesn’t happen often that he amounts to something like that in an interaction. “Don’t beat yourself up along the way though, like I said, it’s difficult and something you never really get done with,” he further reassures. 

“I understand. I will try my best,” Choso says, giving away a small smile of pride.

It takes a single glance at the watch above Choso’s head for him to understand that their time is up. It feels like a good place to stop too. In a nonverbal communication of eying and nodding, they both come to a standing. It isn’t before Choso takes a step that he realizes that he has forgotten his recent physical problems. He can practically feel the blood attempting to rush to his head. Before anything more severe happens he tries to stand as still as possible. 

In white-dotted vision he sees Geto offer his arm as support. He holds it for a few seconds until his body catches up. Then he lets go.

“Thanks,” he says, unable to avoid embarrassment.

“Don’t worry about it,” Geto reassures. “Choso, do you have any idea of why you are having anemia symptoms recently?”

“No,” he prevaricates.

“Have you told your dad?” His voice is soft. It reminds Choso of his own dad. He starts to wonder how Geto is as a parent.

“No,” he admits.

“Then please do that for me,” Although spoken gently there is a seriousness in the words that makes him hard to dismiss. 

“Okay,” he assures.

“Now take care until next week,” There is a hand on his shoulder, a wave goodbye, and a gust of fresh air.

Chapter Text

CW: Mention of needles, bugs, weight loss, and self-harm scars

“Dad, can I ask you about something?” They had been driving for about thirty minutes. It was still early in the morning but late enough for the rush to have set in. Although schools hadn’t opened yet there were probably many people working. 

“Of course,” his dad replied, eyes still on the road. He had wasted no time booking an appointment with Choso’s doctor after Choso told him he had started to have symptoms again. Not wanting to worry his dad too much he had been mild in his descriptions. He knew he would be taken seriously regardless so there was no need to cause him any more stress. 

Bloodwork had gone fine. Choso felt a bit dizzy afterward but it was most likely from the mistake of not looking away when the needle pierced his skin. There was always an uneasy feeling about that. It had been a quick visit, the doctor would get back to them as soon as the test results were back.

“In therapy yesterday we talked about trust,” Choso began, thinking how exactly he wanted to ask the question he had. His dad hummed in response. “Do you think that not trusting someone can be as dangerous as trusting someone?” His dad shoots him an eye. 

“I assume it can,” he answers. Choso furrows his brows. 

“Have you ever experienced it?” he asks, unpleased with the vagueness of the response he got. He had truly been thinking about this since Geto mentioned it. Thinking of times when distrust felt like the unsafe option was just as difficult as he initially thought. His dad was quiet for a while, seemingly searching through his memory bank. 

“There are probably a lot more but from the top of my head I can think about one time,” he says and glances over with a quick smile. Choso studies his expression. Tries to work out what type of situation his dad might be thinking of. From the looks of it, it seemed to be one dipped in several conflicting emotions. His mouth was smiling, his eyes were not. “You know that Sukuna has a wasp allergy?”

“Yeah,” he replies, remembering being instructed how to use an EpiPen and where it was located in the house at quite an early age. He had never seen Sukuna use it though, it had almost fallen out of his memory. Apart from Sukuna, none of them had any allergies.

“Do you know how we found out?” he asks. Choso shakes his head. His dad takes a deep breath before telling.

“So, you were in the hospital with grandpa. This was when you were six. Remember that time?” he asks, waiting for confirmation. 

“Yeah, I needed another transfusion,” Choso answers. He doesn’t recall much of the actual experience but he knew it happened. 

“Yes, exactly. Well, I stayed with you most of the time, grandpa stayed with Sukuna and Yuji. They were young and had lost their mom, so when they cried and wanted me to stay with them we switched,” The guilt gnaws at Choso. Lately, a lot has reminded him of how much attention he has taken up, or rather taken from his brothers. 

“There was one day when Sukuna begged for us to pick mushrooms in the forest. I wasn’t sure there would be any but we ended up finding a lot,” his dad seemed to drift away for a moment, a small smile appearing on his face. It disappeared just as quickly though. “They were a bit further down the trail, I thought it was ok since they were together and I could still see them,” he continues. Choso waits in anticipation. 

“Then all of a sudden I hear Yuji screaming. I mean he was only three so throwing a fit shouldn’t be out of the ordinary. But you know Yuji, he has always been…”

“Recilient,” Choso finishes the sentence in lack of his father’s ability to find the right word. A knot ties in his stomach. He wouldn’t call Yuji a quiet kid, but when it came to these types of things he grit his teeth through almost anything. Most wrote it off as him being tough and happy. Choso wishes it was as simple as that. 

“Right,” his dad answers, halting a bit in his story. “Yuji rarely cried or screamed, even when he was that small,” he continues. “Anyway, I look up and from a distance I can see Sukuna hitting Yuji. And Yuji is still screaming and crying,” Choso feels his anger boil up, his body tenses and he has to take deeper breaths to avoid overreacting to something that happened many years ago. It’s not like he has never seen Sukuna hit Yuji. That isn’t news. 

“So seeing this I rush towards them to break them apart. I don’t remember exactly what I said but I believe I was screaming at Sukuna, telling him to stop,” Choso sees his dad bite down on his teeth and swallow. “I was so angry. Sukuna has always been strong and Yuji was still so little, I mean there is a five-year age gap. Under no circumstances will it be okay for him to hit Yuji. That’s what I told myself as I ran towards them,”

The story angers Choso as well. It’s starting to visualize itself in his head. He sees it happening. He hears Yuji’s cries for help. The guilt of not having been there starts to eat at him. 

“Then I get to them and I understand how wrong I had been,” Choso freezes at the words, turning his head towards his dad. “You see, Yuji must have stepped into a wasp nest, one that is underground. His leg was covered with them, even more swarming around them both. Angry wasps attacking my two boys.” He shakes his head. It’s a visual that makes Choso shiver. He had never had any problem with bugs. In fact, he was rather fond of them. Wasps on the other hand…and so many of them. He can’t even imagine how scary that must have been for Yuji. 

“That’s when I realized that Sukuna hadn’t been hitting Yuji just for the sake of it. He had been swatting at the wasps, killing as many as he could with his own two hands in order to help his little brother. And Yuji wasn’t screaming because of Sukuna, he was screaming because they stung him and because he was scared,”

Choso’s head begins to spin again. There is a part of him that would like to deny this story. Tell his brain to keep the image of Sukuna acting out of malice, beating Yuji bruised and bloodied. It fits without effort for else. But there is another part, a much younger version of him, that knows his dad is telling the truth. Knows that this is exactly what Sukuna would do in that situation. The same version that sometimes still dreams of a hand that stretches out and reaches for him to hold. An older brother with a big smile and the courage of a lion. 

“In the end, we were all stung. Yuji mostly of course. He probably had over 100 stings, Sukuna perhaps 20, I only a few. I carried Yuji. His legs were swelling quickly and I feared it would be dangerous considering his young body. So I ran with him as fast as I could toward our car, yelling at Sukuna to hurry,” The memory seemed so clear to his dad. Like he was seeing it right in front of him as he told the story. “After hauling Yuji into the car I looked back, realizing that Sukuna had struggled to keep up. He was just slowly approaching from afar. I yelled at him to hurry again but he just waved at me as if he wanted me to go without him,”

His dad’s jaw gets glued shut. He bites down so hard that Choso sees his muscles work. It becomes quiet for a few seconds. “If I had done that I would have lost my firstborn child,” The confession takes the breath out of Choso. It hits something inside of him that he doesn’t want to acknowledge. It’s uncomfortable. His thoughts, his feelings, all of it. His dad takes a deep breath. 

“Luckily I didn’t. For once my worry served me and I sensed something was wrong. I ran back to get him. He was bent over, hand over his throat, and his breathing sounded pitched,” His dad’s serious expression leaves no doubt that there were traces of the panic that day still prevalent in the memory itself. “I just picked him up too, ran, in with him in the car. I don’t think I have ever driven that fast before. If the police had seen me I would never have been allowed to drive again,” he lowers his voice. “Not that it would have mattered,” With eyes fixed on the road in front of them, brows in a deep furrow, and fingers clasping around the steering wheel, he went quiet. 

“He was having an allergic reaction?” Choso quietly asks. The question was unnecessary in and of itself, but he needed his dad to keep going. 

“Yes, anaphylactic shock. Although I wasn’t sure at the time. The only thing I knew was that my child couldn’t breathe,” They had arrived back home. His dad shut off the engine and Choso started to get nervous that their conversation would end. Both Sukuna and Yuji were in the house. At least one of them would be in the kitchen or living room and this talk felt like something Choso wanted to keep between the two of them. Was he being too greedy again? He had forgotten to check the time as well, it was probably time for his dad to go to work anyway. 

To Choso’s relief and surprise, his dad just turns towards him, sinks back into the dark car seat, and exhales. 

“In the end, I got them both to the hospital in time. Sukuna was administered an epinephrine injection. They gave Yuji an antihistamine just in case and then some anti-inflammatory where he had been stung the most. We got to go home the same day, with a prescription for an EpiPen of course,” his dad finishes, pulls the key out, and smiles towards Choso. 

“Oh, and he begged me not to tell you. Guess I broke that promise now,” his dad says, scratching the back of his head with his free arm. The words sting, burn themselves onto the list. 

“Why?” Is all he can get out. He feels like he should say more. Say anything in relation to all the events his dad told him about. But the question taunts him. He needed it out before it carved itself in. His dad smiles. 

“Because he thought it would make him look uncool,” At that, Choso frowns. “And I told him that you could think nothing was cooler than him saving his younger brother,” his eyes break eye contact and he adds. “Again,”

Choso’s heart is beating fast. To think that even Sukuna would want to hide things from him had never even crossed his mind. At least not these types of things. His dad sighs deeply. 

“My words didn’t change his mind though. If it was that he didn’t believe me or if he wasn’t ready to receive some heartfelt love from you, I have never been sure,” he states. In the corner of Choso’s eye, he spots something pink. When he glances over he sees Yuji wave in their kitchen window. They both smile at him and wave back but make no effort to exit the car. Choso turns towards his dad again.

“I didn’t trust Sukuna to have anything but ill intentions in that moment. I yelled at him while he was literally putting his life on the line for his little brother,” his dad says, in a matter-of-fact tone. It almost sounds self-deprecating and is followed by another sigh. “Then, of course, I rightfully mistrusted him when he was waving at me to drive off with just Yuji. Not seeing the self-sacrificial side will be a mistake I hopefully only do once,” he pins Choso down with his eyes and adds. “With all of you,” a hand comes up to rub his eyes underneath his glasses. “God, I can’t believe all three of you are so much alike there. It makes a father worry a lot you know,”

After snatching a few of Yuji’s newly baked breakfast buns, their dad heads to work. Sukuna isn’t to be seen so Choso can only assume he is still sleeping. That means it’s only him and Yuji in the room. He watches his brother clean the kitchen of flour and dirty bowls. There was a time when Yuji sat down and enjoyed what he had made before feeling the need to make the kitchen spotless. Those days are long gone together with his childlike innocence. Yuji was changing and Choso wasn't sure how to feel about it. 

"Was it good?" He asks, turning towards Choso with a beaming smile. There is a maturity in the question, almost like a parent speaking to their child. Regardless, Choso can do nothing but grow warm under the shine of the sun. 

"It's delicious Yuji," he says, returning the smile. Yuji's presence is calming and he takes a second bun from the basket. 

"Yay! I'm glad," he says, coming to sit opposite at the kitchen table. He takes one of his baked goods and sinks his teeth into it. Yuji loves eating after all. He chews for a while. "Yeah, gotta admit, they turned out pretty good,"

"Thank you for baking," Choso says, hoping his words won't be dismissed.

"Anytime!" Yuji replies, flashing all his teeth and a thumbs up. "Oh, do you know what I did yesterday?"

Yuji proceeds to tell him all about his and Megumi's recent adventures. Everything from exploring the forest to visiting Megumi's house and meeting his dad and his sisters. Apparently he has a very cool dad who seemed to have talked a lot to Yuji. Choso has to bite his tongue not to voice his suspicion regarding what seems like quite an odd man. He thinks about what Geto said and decides that he should at least meet this person before making too harsh of a judgment. He doubts Yuji would like that though. 

The way Yuji talks about Megumi is different too. Usually, when Yuji has friends he simply enjoys their company. Although he has always spoken well of his friends, Choso hasn't seen this level of admiration before. His eyes light up when speaking about how intelligent and special Megumi is. A sting of jealousy slips into Choso's body, but more than anything he is starting to reform the image he initially got of Megumi. Perhaps he isn't just a delinquent with a moral gray that happens to be in his favor. If he can be someone who makes Yuji this happy, then Choso should probably embrace him too. 

"Choso, can I ask you something?" The breakfast was cleared from the table and they had been enjoying a game of cards for the last thirty minutes when Yuji suddenly got a serious tone. Choso had been overjoyed to have gotten a lengthy session of quality time with his younger brother. It had truly been a while since it happened and Yuji seemed to speak to him more freely than often. 

"Of course," he says calmly, feeling like he almost accomplishes the vibe of a dependable brother. Yuji draws a long breath that almost sounds like a sigh.

"Do you think that Sukuna will ever forgive me?" There is a nervousness in Yuji's voice. A fear of the wrong answer, or perhaps any answer at all. Yet, he has chosen Choso to be the judge of something that seems to be of such importance to him. The question takes him back. A million different things flash through his mind. He tries to recall every interaction in the last couple of weeks between Yuji and Sukuna. Had something happened between the two of them? Perhaps when Choso wasn't around. Yuji seemed so troubled by this though. Did they have a fight?

"For what?" he asks when his brain has failed to come up with a reasonable answer. Yuji looks at him from the corner of his eyes, eyebrows buckling down a millisecond as if what Choso responded was strange.  

"For killing our mom," he states in a low voice. Choso drops. It feels as though his body goes through the kitchen table, the chair, the flooring. His breath is lost too. It remains somewhere in the high-pressure air between them. What was Yuji saying? What does he even mean? 

Yuji looks down at the table, head hanging in shame. Choso can't get a word out. His head overflows with all the things he wants to say. Needs to say. Yuji looks back up and they make eye contact. His face is twisted in fear as if Choso has already sentenced him. His eyes beg to be released from this. It snaps Choso out of it.

"You-" Suddenly heavy steps sound from the top of the stairs. They sluggishly make their way down. Choso goes quiet. They both turn to look at who they already know will turn the corner in just a few seconds. The air is thick as blood and the tension probably hit Sukuna like a brick wall when he finally enters the room. He gives them a questioning look before his attention is diverted towards the basket of buns on the counter. 

"You baked? Why didn't you wake me?" he mumbles, grabbing at least four buns. The words are so soft that neither Yuji nor Choso succeeds in giving as much as a hum in response. Silenced by shock they watch Sukuna pile his plate with different items. The moment between Choso and Yuji is broken. Choso also doesn't feel like it's a good idea to continue now that Sukuna is in the same room. Therefore, he can only watch with despair how Yuji rises from his seat, tucking the deck of cards back into its folder.

"I'm cleaning a bit today, let me know if you have something that needs to be washed," he says, lips in a thin smile. Choso can tell it's fake. Yuji disappears from the room and just a moment later he hears their front door close. A billion thoughts rush through Choso’s mind. Cleaning and going outside doesn’t make any sense. Why did Yuji go out? He leans back and watches through the window as Yuji makes his way to their garage. 

He desperately wants to get up. He wants to run to Yuji immediately, comfort him, hug him, tell him to not say such horrible things about himself. But he does nothing. Absolutely nothing. His body feels heavy as if he can’t physically get up from the chair. 

Had Yuji really been blaming himself this whole time? Was he being serious? ‘Killed’??

Of course it wasn’t Yuji’s fault. He hadn’t killed anyone, certainly not when he was a month old. How could he even think that? Yuji is smarter than that, right?

But in the end, he had asked. He has asked Choso and he didn’t deliver an answer. The thought brings Choso to his feet and he makes his way past Sukuna who is giving him a profound look. While out in the hallway he realizes how much his head is spinning from getting up that fast. He grabs a hold of their clothing hanger to ride it out.

He needed to tell Yuji it wasn’t his fault, right no-

“Do you think Sukuna will ever forgive me?”

He stops his thoughts and realizes that he has been formulating an answer to the wrong question. Will Sukuna ever forgive Yuji - that’s what he had asked. Choso’s head feels heavy. At this point, his vision is completely black. The only thing he feels is his fingers gripping the hanger for dear life.

…

…

…

"Hey, wake up," Choso hears distant words. He can tell that the person speaking is close by, yet they feel so far away. He opens his eyes and immediately squints through a slightly blurred vision. He sees someone with pink hair squatting next to him. The hallway carpet is rough against his left cheek. His brain catches up with the situation. "Are you okay? Did you faint?" Sukuna asks with a voice that is equally soft and authoritative. 

"Yeah," Choso says, not sure which question he answers. He lifts his head which seems to collaborate unusually well with gravitation. For some reason, his mouth feels dry too. He becomes seated on the floor, still feeling a bit shaken up. 

"Did you hurt yourself?" Sukuna asks, picking up the clothing hanger that went down with him in the fall. Choso wiggles his arms and legs to feel if anything hurts. 

"Don't think so," he replies when he determines that it’s only his head that is hurting and ringing, which isn’t unusual after fainting. Sukuna seems impatient and reaches out a hand for him.

"Come on, stand up," When Choso isn’t quick enough to give him his hand Sukuna kneels down and wraps his arms around Choso’s upper body, practically lifting him from the floor. He stumbles to a standing and takes a moment to see if the blood will catch up to his head. 

"You are so fucking light. Have you been eating enough? Have you been taking your iron tablets?" Sukuna nags. Choso thinks he really sounds like a mom and is almost about to chuckle when Sukuna goes to lift his shirt. It’s an innocent move, probably his way of checking that he hasn’t lost too much weight. But for Choso it’s fatal. 

“What are you doing?” He says in horror, pushing his older brother away, hands pulling down his shirt so hard it’s probably getting stretched out. Despite his quick reaction he had been too late. Shame overtakes him as it’s written all over Sukunas face that he had spotted the scars mapped on his stomach. He looks away and wishes he could sink through the ground and never come back. It’s no longer from anemia that his heart is beating so fast that he can feel it in his throat. He doesn’t want Sukuna to know. He doesn’t want Sukuna reacting. He doesn’t want anything with this situation. But it’s already too late. 

“What have you done?” The mixture of horror and heartbreak in Sukuna’s voice makes him shut down. It’s as though it gives away all his emotions to a future self that will hopefully be more equipped to handle this. He will deal with it when he is all alone. Now he just has to get out of this situation. 

“It was a long time ago,” He states truthfully, hoping that it will be reason enough to forgive and forget. It’s not. 

“Are you stupid??” The vulnerability and softness Sukuna has displayed this entire morning is gone. Perhaps it was all to store up for this moment of pure rage. He can practically feel the air as Sukuna yells at him. He finds himself unable to answer anything that would be a good enough answer. So he remains silent. Apparently, that isn’t good either.

Sukuna grabs a fistful of his shirt and yanks Choso closer, forcing him to meet eyes with him. When he does he sees that anger that he has practically grown up seeing. His face is twisted in an expression that would, if looking at it from an outside perspective, almost be funny. But there is something else too. Wet eyes. The hand that is holding Choso is shaking, and the other one knots in a fist. Choso tenses up, preparing to defend himself. 

“Why would you do that?? You anemic little shit you already don't have enough blood are you fucking-” 

“What's going on?” Unnoticed by them both, Yuji had entered through the front door. He closes it behind him and turns towards them with a disturbed expression. He looks back and forth between them, waiting for any one of them to give him an answer. Yet again, Choso is out of words. The silence is deafening but at least Sukuna lets go of him. 

When the silence becomes too much, Yuji takes a sharp inhale and clenches his jaw. 

“Fine, don't tell me then,” he says, disheartened, and pushes his way forward between them. His path creates space between Sukuna and Choso. It must snap Sukuna out of his anger because instead of keeping at it, he turns on his heel to head out the front door. Choso sees them both depart in different directions and the guilt hits him so hard he wishes he was still unconscious on the ground.

He remains there for a while, quietly as his eyes lose focus after staring at the wall for too long in the lack of finding a better way to handle it. When his feet finally move again he finds Yuji in their laundry room. He is standing his his back against Choso, holding Choso’s oversized jeans in one hand and something else in the other. 

“Yuji?” he says. Something feels off with his frame. It’s like Yuji has tensed up. 

“Choso,” he begins and slowly turns around, eyes still on the object in his hand. “What is this?” 

Choso stares at the paper in Yuji’s hand and his heart drops. He doesn’t need Yuji to flip it around to know what it is.

Fuck.

Yuji flips it anyway. Choso stares at the picture he drew a couple of weeks ago in therapy. When he shifts his attention to Yuji he realizes that he is crying. A lone tear leaves his eye and his lips shiver a bit. In pure instinct, Choso takes a step forward, fully ready to embrace Yuji.

“You think I hate you?” he asks. Choso stops in his tracks. He sees Yuji swallow multiple times before glaring at Choso with an expression he has never seen him make before. He can’t tell if it’s anger or disappointment. Perhaps both. 

“I-” Choso stops. The first thing on his mind had been to comfort Yuji. Tell him whatever he needs to wipe the tears from his face. But would that be the same as the truth? Did he think Yuji hated him? Was Yuji capable of hating? 

He looks straight at Yuji. The tension between them is vibrating. Yuji’s chest heaves up and down as if he had been running. 

“I don’t know,” he admits in the end, throwing the ball back in Yuji’s court. Yuji’s mouth falls open and he takes a sharp inhale before raising his hand to dry his eyes. He tilts his head back and takes a deep breath. Then he looks down at the paper in his hand again. 

“Well, I don’t,” he says, putting Choso’s pants on top of the washing machine without tearing his eyes off the note. He is staring at it as if it’s the enemy itself. In a sudden thunderbolt, Yuji grits his teeth and starts tearing up the note. Piece after piece falls from his hands and lands on the wooden floor. Lastly, he throws the rest aggressively before pushing past Choso yet again, stomping the stairs and slamming the door to his room. 

Chapter Text

If I open my chest, will my heart terrify you?

Will you see that it has been skinned and flee before it bursts?

Like the reflection in a silver spoon, I’m upside down, hung in the air

When you reach your arms toward the sky and I do the same

There might be a gap between us that I can’t close

Then, will you settle for a wave when you realize our fingertips don’t touch?

Because I would need you to leap and catch me before the distance grow

I would need you to take my hand

No, reach inside my chest instead, shield my heart, be it’s skin

If you hold me by my heart I might turn the right way 

My feet might touch the ground where you stand

But if my chest heals again, will your hand get stuck?

Enmeshed with my flesh?

If that’s the case I will gracefully let you go

I will seal my lips and wave back

From up here you can’t see my heart anyway

Held together by longing 

And like that, it shall remain

“Have you ever been to a fun house Geto-san?” Choso was sure it was as clear as could be that he was having a difficult day. There wasn’t even a point in trying to conceal it. It was prevalent on his face, in his voice, his posture, his energy. There were too many things to correct and too little will to do so. 

“I have,” he replies calmly. He has calm energy today. Choso wasn’t sure it was a good thing. It made him feel like every fidget he was unable to tame sent vibrations through the room. Every twitch was the center of attention. Geto pushed his glasses up. “Both when I was young and later with my kids,”

“There used to be one here when I was younger. One with a room where the floor was moving,” Choso starts. For some reason, it was difficult to look Geto in the eyes today. He finds himself looking at everything else. Inspecting the fabric of their chairs, the content on his desk, even mapping the outline of the horrendous art piece Geto has on the wall next to one of the windows. He wasn’t sure what it was supposed to be. Some sort of animal? A monkey perhaps?

When his eyes flash on Geto’s face, he realizes he is waiting him out.

“It had these sections that moved in opposite directions,” he gestures the lines with his fingers. Or more flopped his arms around. Gosh, he had always been terrible at explaining things. “When you try and walk on it you look really funny,”

“I think I know what you mean,” Geto reassures. Choso forces himself to meet his eyes to confirm it’s not a lie. He is met with a placid look that does the job of giving him the confidence to continue. 

“It feels like that,” he admits. His throat fills with a lump and his eyes defocus. It’s probably not for longer than a second, but Choso feels like it takes forever to pull himself out of it. “It’s always moving and unstable. If you take a step into it you will most likely fall and break your nose. Best case scenario you will look stupid,” His thumb rubs against his palm creating heat against his skin. If he continues it might cause a rash. He can feel Geto look at him. “And everyone is able to see that you don’t walk right. It feels like I’m walking on that while everyone else is waking on normal ground,”

“It’s okay to struggle,” Geto says, tilting his head slightly to the left. There they are, those words again . “Not all struggles are visible to others. A lot of people walk around on unstable ground. Some people have probably done it for so long that they can pretend that their floor isn’t moving,” Geto leans back with a small sigh. Choso is almost in awe that Geto tries to follow his analogy. That alone pulls him back and he takes up eye contact again. The ever-so-faint smile that brushes past his therapist’s lips doesn’t go to him unbeknownst. “Other people don’t notice as much as we think. Remembering someone falling is a lot more difficult than remembering when we fell ourselves, right?”

“I guess,” Choso says. There is a point to what Geto is saying. However, it feels so simplistic. Like it could and should be brushed over. Choso is sick of hearing it. He is sick of being told that things are alright and to have all his problems get flattened. It’s serious to him. But it seems like that isn’t getting through. 

This really wasn’t what he needed today. Life was already dreadful after messing it up with both Sukuna and Yuji. He has two brothers at home that looked back at him while attempting to cross that damn floor. Every emotion coming from the two of them, every gaze, every motion, text, and sound, moved those floor tiles, tripping him up. There were expectations placed on him. To be able to walk as fast and well as the rest, or at least try. It was too late to ask them to give him a hand. They were already tired of him. Choso was tired too. 

“Do you know when you draw and you keep messing something up,” He swallows, feeling ashamed to continue with the cryptic comparisons. “So you erase and then draw and then erase and so on until the paper becomes thin and strange,” He gestures something again but it doesn’t become anything fathomable. In the end, he is just using it as an excuse to shake off some anxiety. “And then the paper is just so messed up that you have to change to a new paper. Start fresh,”

“Do you want to start fresh Choso?” Geto asks. Choso can tell that he is trying. His eyes don’t waver. He has put down the notebook he usually has in his hand. His entire focus is on Choso, working out what he is trying to say. 

“I’m that paper. The one you throw away,” A pause follows. Choso makes it a point to sit still. Somehow it feels appropriate to match Geto. He takes an inhale and leans forward towards Choso. 

“You feel like you are too messed up to fix?” The question hangs in the air. It felt more ridiculous when Geto said it but he had hit the nail head-on. 

“Yeah,” He says with a nod before meeting Geto’s eyes again. He looks serious at the admission. He answers without faltering. 

“I don’t believe that,” He speaks with such confidence that Choso has to turn away again. It feels as though he becomes open-wounded. 

“Of course, you have to say that…” he retaliates in a low voice. Frankly, he understands that Geto can’t be honest with him all the time. Of course, that’s what he will say when this is his job. But that doesn’t mean he is correct. 

“You are far from the first person to feel like that,” Geto continues. Choso can tell it’s well intended, he isn’t stupid. But this time it makes him so defeated. He deflates in his chair. Sinks down until he feels like they have become one. 

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” He asks, feeling how his throat gets thick. As if Geto can tell he looks at Choso with somewhat of a sorry look. Choso swallows it down the best he can. 

“It can be comforting to know that you aren’t alone with your feelings,” Geto explains in a soft voice. Although soft and gentle he hasn’t become small. Choso wonders how he does that. 

“It makes me feel more alone…hearing that,” He tries. In the pause, he looks to Geto to see if he is free to continue. If it’s okay to disagree with the words he has heard a hundred times. He knows what the words mean. But he wants to make it clear how they have never struck right.  “It makes me feel like it’s some small thing that is normal and that I should just get over it,”

“How come?” Geto asks, leaning a bit closer. Choso takes another leap.

“Because you said it was normal,” He explains. “And I can’t even handle normal,” In his periphery he sees Geto smile. 

“I never said it was normal. Besides, I hate that word,” There is a long pause. Choso waits for Geto to make another move. To shift in his seat, break the tension with a sigh or a change in his expression. But he remains in the same spot, pulling Choso into the bubble around them. He can tell that there is some hesitation behind the next question and it heightens his anxiety. “Do you feel robbed of your experience and emotions when others share them?”

Choso forgets to breathe. Perhaps he even forgets how to. He is forced to look at Geto again to see if he heard him say that. Then his face turns into a scowl. 

“That’s horrible…what you describe,” he says, with brows furrowed and with a bit less confusion than he would like to admit. Geto remains serious.

“Let’s not judge anything. At least not yet,” He says, finally taking, what feels like, the first breath in forever. Choso notices his hand going towards his ring. He twists it around and Choso tries not to get distracted by it. “Growing up together with three other people, all going through a life-changing experience. A trauma.” He pauses after the heavy emphasis on the last word. “It’s far from strange if your emotions haven’t gotten enough room. That they have been suffocated by other’s needs, not necessarily intentionally or ill-intended,”

“That’s not true!” Choso blurts it out without realizing he had that much emotion behind it. It’s a frustration directed more towards himself than Geto. “If anything it’s me and my emotions that have taken up too much space. Still does…” His gaze sinks towards his hands in his lap. The skin between his thumb and the other fingers is red and irritated. “So it’s me who hasn’t given my family room. I’m the one robbing from their needs,”

“One thing doesn’t cancel out the other,” Geto answers. Choso’s leg starts to bounce. “You are not any less deserving of having your needs met just because you might have contributed to someone else being less seen,” Choso likes nothing of what he is hearing. He can’t bear to look at Geto when he delivers such words. “There is no one at fault here. You guys are just a family trying their best.” The level of compassion in which Geto speaks creeps itself inside Choso and he fights off tears threatening to escape. Not today.

“Still, if I’m the worst…if I take up the most space all the damn time…then…then I’m most to blame at least,” Choso is sure that his family would agree with him if they were asked who took up the most energy and space in the household. There would be no doubt about it actually. Sure, Sukuna has bursts of anger from time to time, but he also spends a lot of time away or just in his room. Yuji had never caused a scene ever in his entire life. 

“Well, if we want to be that simple I can say that if you feel like this,” Geto bends down to catch Choso’s eyes that are still down-struck. With that guidance, he meets them and follows them back up. “If you feel like you have to suppress yourself and like there isn’t enough room for you,” He pauses, Choso is unaware if his emotions are exposed on his face. “Then the space you have taken up so far clearly hasn’t been enough,” With a small jump back, Geto loosens up a bit and places one hand in the other. “Say ‘too much’ all you want, I say ‘too little’,”

“It’s not possible to take more,” Choso answers quickly, shaking his head before the words leave his mouth. He needs Geto to understand how much of a burden he is. How much damage he has already done in his sixteen years of being alive. 

“Choso, honor your wishes. Needs don’t operate within the frames of what’s possible or not. Needs are primal,” Geto stares him down, a small crease appearing between his eyebrows. “Besides, you saying that it’s not possible tells me you are just locked on that idea,”

“Wouldn’t me taking up more space just prevent my brothers from getting their share of attention? Wasn’t that the point you were trying to make regarding me?” Choso says in an attempt to turn Geto’s words against him. Perhaps it will be the key for him to understand how flawed what he says is. Choso doesn’t deserve any more than what he has already been given. Hell, he hadn’t even deserved that probably. 

“Or it would give them the courage to do the same. Either at that time or at a later time. Or they could learn something about you that was necessary or good for them to learn. That’s communication too,” He finishes the sentence with a small smile. Choso doesn’t feel like returning it. “Besides, this might be something you have to go through at this time. Perhaps you need this now . They might need it another time. And then you might not need it because you have already dealt with it,” A sigh slips out of Geto’s lips. “There are endless possibilities, scenarios, outcomes. Endless amount of ‘or’s and ‘if’s,”

“Sounds to me like you don’t actually know,” Yet again, words have slipped out before Choso could filter them. They come out just as dismissive as he felt about Geto’s statements. If he were being honest, nothing had been making sense the last five minutes. There is never a good time and place to be selfish, especially when that already happens involuntarily. And hurting his family even more, even if it were just for a short while, is something Choso will never accept. 

“That’s because I don’t,” Choso glances at him to see if he is serious. The deadpan look on his therapist’s face says he is. A somewhat failed smile follows the serious look. “I will say things that turn out wrong, some things might even be contradictions,” He pauses as to think. He tilts his chin up and his eyes narrow a bit. “But what I do know is that you shouldn’t have to feel like your experience is compromised or becomes invalid just because someone else has a similar one. Those two things don’t interfere. So I would like to help you with it, if I can,” He pauses there. It’s a request. An invitation. Something Choso isn’t sure he is ready to accept. Therefore he remains silent, making absolutely no indication in either direction. Upon seeing this Geto takes an inhale again and continues.

“And if you allow me to tie it back to my original point - I believe you can. Because it’s common to feel this way. Both in regards to this and being ‘unfixable’,” He quotes it out with both hands. “And it’s also possible for those people to overcome it,”

“Hm,” Choso hums. Geto can say whatever he wants. He can lie and make up different perfect scenarios that have absolutely nothing to do with Choso. He isn’t other people. Other people aren’t him. He should be happy about Geto’s optimism, but he simply can’t believe it. 

“You know, if it’s too much right now to take up space at home, then perhaps we should start here,” The hopefulness that laces the words makes Choso curl up a bit. He doesn’t know what to do with the feeling he gets. Whether to feel taken, welcomed with open arms, or to hear the underlying åreassure. 

“Here? As in this room with you?” It’s supposed to come out cold but it sounds more like a plead. Choso cringes.

“Yeah,” Geto says confidently. Choso feels small.

“Well, I already cry here and stuff…” he says with a tint of shame. 

“Crying is one thing, and it’s great that you can do it with me. But I think there is much more that would need to take space. To come out,” Choso’s mind starts to spin. He tries to decipher the look on Geto’s face but to no avail. He dislikes being in this position, always several steps behind. 

“Why do you think that?” He asks. 

“Well, no one is scared of tears,” Geto says with a small shrug. Choso looks at him, hoping that the confusion on his face is enough for Geto to explain himself further. Apparently, it’s not. 

“What?” He says, feeling almost irritated. 

“No one is scared of tears,” When Geto simply repeats himself yet again Choso can feel his eyebrows scrunch together. There is no way it gets past Geto and after a couple of seconds of silent treatment, he finally continues. “Tears alone aren’t enough to push other people into the back of the room. Everyone cries. Sometimes from sad things, sometimes from happy things. And some people cry more than others. Crying is very natural. When a baby is born we want it to cry,” He studies Choso for a moment. “What I’m trying to say is that tears and a weep isn’t enough to take the air from someone else,”

“It…it is!” Choso feels small again. Young and small. Stupid, like a grumpy child seeking a fight. “I cry a lot,” He admits. Not that he believes that he needs to. Geto has seen a lot of it too. He swallows the shame again, feeling as it fails to remove the lump in his throat. the pace of his woords esca. “And when I do I get attention and then someone else might not get it and-”

“Did you get to cry that day?” The interruption stuns him. Like it drags him out of the water onto dry land. But he isn’t grasping for air. He doesn’t desperately seek oxygen. Instead, he finds that he doesn’t need it. His lungs have been punched out. There is nothing. Nothing but a question he wishes was unasked. 

“What?” He says, without the breath.

“The day your mom passed away. Did you get to cry?” Suddenly it’s like his heart starts to work again. His whole body kickstarts. Every single button, light, and connection in the machinery. All at once. 

His mind and emotions pull him in a different direction. He feels dissolved, stretched out, paper thin. All the different voices and wills scream answers to the question. There is so much of it. So much nonsense. So much incoherence. So much shame. 

“I- I- I didn’t need…” He tries. Choso no longer knows how to find what’s real. He doesn’t know if what he delivers is a lie, something to make it pretty-ugly. An acceptable answer. Everything in his power to conceal the fact that it’s pretty fucking ugly inside him right now. In the end, it didn’t matter, because Geto proceeded as if he hadn’t said anything at all. 

“Or did you perhaps take it upon yourself to be the one who didn’t cry? When everyone else was,” The voices from the other side of the bathroom door. Yuji in his lap. Small wet cheeks and a hoarse voice from screaming for what might have been hours. When he touched him he was warm. Not in the comforting way that makes you want to snuggle up next to him. In a strained and unnatural way. “Because you had a little brother whose needs you saw and prioritized?” He couldn’t hold Yuji close enough. He felt as though no matter how much he hugged him there was still too much movement. There wasn’t room for all of that. There wasn’t room for anything when that sound was coming from their house. He just wanted everything to stop. Every sound, every motion, everything he saw. “At that time, did you feel like there wasn’t room for you to cry too?”

“It was so much…” When he recalls it he wasn’t shaking, He wasn’t crying. He wasn’t anything at all. So why now? Why does his hands tremble to the point of him having to place them under his legs? Why do the tears never stop coming? “...too much everything…I- I…” Why can’t he control it like he did back then? “I can’t…” Choso finds neither his breath nor his words. “He needed….they…” 

When he can’t fight it any longer he lets the tears fall over trembling lips. They slip out beneath closed eyes, sticking to his eyelashes before they fall pathetically onto his lap. He takes his hands out again. Squeezing one in the other. He will hold his own hand. He will just get it together. 

“It’s okay,” He hears Geto say, eyes still glued shut. Suddenly he feels a warm hand on top of his own. It wraps over his and gives them a small squeeze. “It’s okay, Choso,” He opens his eyes to see Geto closer. He wants to dry off his messy face but Geto’s hand remains over his own. “It was how you coped with it. How you survived. You did nothing wrong,” The words break something else in him and a new flood of tears comes gushing out. “But perhaps it’s your turn to cry now,”

“I’ve been crying for thirteen years,” Choso says in a low voice. Geto removes his hand and Choso pulls his sleeve over his first to dry his face. 

“And that’s probably what you need. So at least allow yourself to do that,” He pauses there. Choso breathes it out. With the emotional wave past him, he feels a bit more grounded. 

“It’s hard,” He admits to his own surprise. 

“I know,” Geto whispers and nods, and Choso feels like he does. There is a sharp inhale that follows. “Another thing, and I’m not saying this to take away from your experience,”

“Go ahead,” Choso interrupts. He is past wanting to be doted on and protected with sugar-coated sayings. 

“You were in an extreme situation. It was a trauma Choso and those take time to heal,” He watches Choso for a negative reaction. When he isn’t given one he continues. “Perhaps this hypervigilance towards other’s emotions and how much emotions a room can handle is something you feel stronger than others. Even though you all experienced the same event your experience will differ,” Choso nods slowly, thinking of his brothers and how they talk about this. Or rather not talk perhaps. “So even if you felt suffocated by other’s emotions, that might not be the case for the rest of your family,” At that, Choso clenches his jaw again, guard up. “That not be what your family experiences when you cry and break down. At least, let’s not assume that it’s that way,”

Choso thinks back at all the times Yuji has cast him an eye whenever he sees him sad. He sees the change in posture. He sees his glow disaster, shrink into the corner where Yui never belongs. The sun shouldn’t be shunned. Nothing is supposed to put out the sun. 

And Sukuana, gritting his jaw and throwing comments about crocodile tears and being weak. There is no way he does find him anything but an annoyance. A disruption in his daily life. 

And their dad, who puts all his energy into raising them all. All the times he has stopped his plans to care for Choso. All the sleep he lost. All the money he spent on therapy and extra help in school. He can tell it wears him down. 

He wears them all down.

“But I can tell it affects them,” He says gravely. 

“Of course, it does,” Geto responds, equally resolute. “Because they love you,”

Chapter Text

CW: Binging? Derealization?

"Where's Megumi? Haven't seen him in a while." 

The silence following Sukuna's question answered more than he probably wished to know. It had been a tense few days. Continuous rain showers had kept them all bundled up in the same room for far longer than was good for any of them. They were biting chunks out of each other's personal space, rubbing off emotions on bare arms. It wasn’t boredom that caused the gloomy atmosphere, but three people who were all a bit too similar when the blues struck. Even Yuji was sighing, slumped over their sofa's armrest, eyes fixed on the drops trailing down the window. 

This type of loom didn't belong to summer, at least not according to Choso. 

Although facing away from Sukuna, Yuji's attempt to pretend that he didn't hear the question was futile. His nose had scrunched up, the frown as visible as possible, if only for a second. Yet no words left his mouth. Choso studied his younger brother, his thoughts spinning. 

"Don't you ignore me," Sukuna continued, sounding more bitter than irritated. He half-heartedly kicked Yuji on his bare thigh from across the sofa. Yuji's words came biting back almost immediately. 

"We had a fight." He said, still turned away from his oldest brother. Choso's chest tightened, and he rose from their dad's old leather armchair. It made Yuji shoot him a glance. 

“What happened?” He asked without any attempt to curb his perturbation. All the different scenarios flooded Choso’s mind. When did this happen? Had Megumi hurt Yuji? Did he mean a physical fight? The image of Yuji with a bloodied nose and tears streaming down his face appeared. The usual state Megumi Fushiguro left his victims in, if still conscious. A chill went through Choso. 

“ He was beating up kids in summer school again, bullies and stuff. Even seniors.” Yuji admitted, almost with a sense of shame in his voice. Choso saw the distress in Yuji but couldn’t help but ease up. An audible laugh from the other side of the sofa made them both turn their heads. Sukuna grinned from ear to ear with what could only be described as pride. 

“Hah! Then what’s the problem?” His eyes wandered back and forth between them, most likely taking pleasure in the dissatisfied look they were giving him. Yuji’s jaw tensed. 

“The problem is he shouldn’t beat people up?” He said, in hopes of getting the cogs to align in his eldest brother’s head. Yuji had always been firm in his morals and beliefs, had the bravery to stand up for it too. And although Yuji was more physically capable than, to be honest, all of his peers, he never used violence. Sure, he had gotten into a handful of fights, but it had always been one-sided. Yuji stepping in to protect someone or simply getting jumped. But Yuji never hit back, nor did he ever seek revenge. So it was no surprise that this side of Megumi bugged him. Choso couldn’t help but see an opening.

“Don’t get yourself into trouble, Yuji. If he is a bad influenc-” Choso was interrupted by a snort from their oldest brother that made both their heads turn. Sukuna grinned.

“Reliable, strong, true to his morals, not afraid to take action,” He listed, crossing his arms over his chest, head tilting towards the side as he pushed his chin up to look at Choso. “Where is the bad influence?” Choso met his eyes with a cold glance. He really wondered why Sukuna seemed so fond of Megumi. Never before had he paid any attention to Yuji’s friends.

“I don’t believe in violence,” Yuji said, fingers fiddling with the pillow he was pressed against. It was rare to see Yuji with a knot between his eyebrows. Choso hated it.

“If you’re a pussy just say it,” Sukuna muttered, swinging his left leg up to rest his ankle against the other knee. It blocked Choso from seeing his face. Yuji turned towards him in a swift motion. 

“I’m not!” His face flushed in frustration. Choso took a step towards them, feeling anger boil up. 

“Don’t talk to Yuji like that!” He hissed, fists forming. Sukuna's face came into his view once again. He gave Choso an unreadable look. As he was looking down on him, he got the urge to lunge at him. Somehow, he seemed unusually docile, as if Choso could really take him this time. Deep down, he knew that wasn’t the case. 

Sukuna uncrossed his arms to point a finger at Choso and Yuji, respectively. 

“Two pussies ganging up,” he teased, but the grin was gone. He stood up, losing the semi-vulnerable position, and the bravery slipped out of him. Sukuna gave him a look before turning on his heel to leave the room. Without looking back, he shouted. “Make up with Megumi already, I want another man in this house.”

Yuji seemed to have a lot on his mind. Choso had been naive to blame the rain and lack of fresh air for his slump. As Yuji cleaned up in the kitchen, Choso contemplated whether he should talk to him about Megumi. Perhaps this was the perfect chance to chime in with some good advice. But before he could make up his mind, Yuji wiped down the last countertop and was already heading out of the kitchen. He seemed to be in a hurry for some reason. 

“Yuji,” he called from the living room as he got up from the chair. The younger teen stopped abruptly and turned his head around to give him a questioning look. He wore no smile on his lips, an unusual look on the boy. Choso’s heart sank.

Right.

Perhaps it was due to Sukuna's presence, but Yuji had acted rather normal around Choso when they all spent time together. It had almost made Choso forget about what happened a couple of days back. The altercation in the hallway. The note in Choso’s jeans. And perhaps most crucial, Yuji’s question. He had yet to answer it. But as the days passed, it became harder and harder to bring it up. In all honesty, it felt more and more surreal that it even happened. 

Nonetheless, when it was just the two of them, Yuji dropped the act. The hurt expression of his that Choso had tried to push to the back of his mind reappeared. 

He gulped. The words of wisdom dying on his tongue. 

“Yeah?” Yuji asked in a sigh, one hand scrunched up the side of his red T-shirt to wipe off the last drops of water from the cleaning. The way Yuji looked at him made him want to push him into a corner and wring out all negative emotions. At the same time, he chokes on a nauseating guilt. 

“Are you okay?” he asks instead. The air becomes tense. Yuji pulls his eyes away. 

“I’m fine,” he says. Although his eyebrows suggest anger, his tone leans more towards resignation. It does everything but calm Choso down. He takes a few steps towards Yuji and wonders if it would be too much to hug him. Yuji leaning away serves as an answer. 

“Are you really?” He pushes, wishing he had better things to say. Their dad was good at stuff like this, pinpointing a problem and attacking it straight on. Choso couldn’t read people like that. Yuji frowns. 

“I’m gonna talk to Fushiguro,” he states, as if it answers anything Choso wants to know. The next words leave his mouth before he manages to think them through. 

“Is he really a good friend?” In the split second before Yuji turns his head away from him, he sees his teeth gritted. He realizes he messed up. This is exactly what he wasn’t supposed to do. Butt in, spill over with his own feelings and anxiety. Suffocate and control. “I mean-”

“Choso,” Yuji interrupts him. He speaks with his back turned. His shoulders rise and sink tensely with quiet, heavy breaths. “No offence, but I don’t want advice from someone who doesn’t have a single friend.” And with that, he disappeared up the staircase.

Choso couldn’t sleep. He didn’t even feel like giving it a try. The day had lasted forever, the time ticking by second by second. He couldn't wait for it to be over. At the same time, he didn’t know what he was waiting for. 

Yuji was angry. Or sad. Or both. He hadn’t come out of his room since their conversation. Not when Choso had knocked or when it was time for dinner. At some point, he must have opened the door and taken the plate of food that their dad put outside because it was gone by the time Choso went to brush his teeth. Besides that, Yuji had completely shut himself out of their family, which had never happened before.

The guilt made his body run cold, his mind fixed on the moments their words were delivered. He replayed their interaction over and over in his head. At this point, Choso was unable to remember if Yuji had sounded as cold as he did in his head. He had really hurt him this time, that was for sure. 

But Yuji’s words hurt too. Not because he needed a reminder on how his situation looked. Choso was well aware of the fact that he didn’t have many friends. He knew he was awkward, strange, not the best at communicating, simply different from many of his peers. Making friends was hard, and finding friendly people equally so. Although it was a painful truth, nothing hurt more than the indication of Yuji’s words. That Choso was pathetic, unreliable, a failure. Was Yuji even ashamed of him? Was he so unsuccessful as a person that it was weighing on Yuji? 

Perhaps a strong person would have been able to take such a comment and have it add fuel to their fire. Push them to make a change and become someone new. Choso was sinking. It made the little he had slip right out of his fingers with no resolve to pick it back up. His life was over. 

“Not a single friend.”

Wasn’t Yuji his friend? He thought Yuji was his best friend. Silent, cold tears escaped his eyes. He shivered where he sat under the desk in his room, drawing his knees closer to his chest, eyes on the dividing wall between him and Yuji. The self-loathing won against the hands that would otherwise wipe his face. He wished the whole world would crumble and crash down on him. He wished he would just remain in that same spot until it all came to an end. 

Suddenly, he heard a sound below him. He held his breath, ears peaked as he was trying to catch any signs that it was the result of a person and not just wishful thinking. Lo and behold, another sound from the kitchen broke his stillness, and Choso crawled out from his hiding spot. He stared down at his carpet as if he could see through the floor if he opened his eyes wide enough. Whoever was down there wasn’t making much noise. It was clear that they were trying to be quiet. Choso’s heart jumped a bit. Perhaps it was just their dad being up to drink a glass of water. He hadn’t heard any footsteps on the stairs after all. 

But there was a tiny chance that it was Yuji. 

It pulled Choso up on his feet. He tiptoed towards his door and creaked it open. A soft yellow light could be seen from below their staircase. His heart was beating out of his chest, his mind arguing with itself whether it was a good idea to talk to Yuji in the middle of the night. He knew Yuji didn’t want to talk to him, he had made that very clear. It would be fully on Choso’s selfish desires. He hates himself for the thought and even more for the foot that met the first step of the stairs. 

He had to see him. See if he was okay at least. Alive, breathing.

Choso soundlessly made it down the stairs. About halfway, the smell of cooking fumes hit his nose. A scent of noodles and something fried. It was a mixture of fragrances that suggested more than one dish. It puzzled him. Who would be up making food at this hour? The sounds coming from the kitchen were a bit odd too. Hastened motions interrupted by gasps of breath. Choso stopped and tried to prepare himself for the scene he would soon enter, but the mental image came back blank. He stepped foot in the doorway.

It wasn’t Yuji, nor was it his dad being thirsty. He met eyes with Sukuna. Wide, horrified eyes that told tales that they normally wouldn’t. Choso barely recognized him. In his hand, he held their big cast iron pan, the other a spoon which had already made it halfway to his mouth. His shoulders were high, stuck in the position he had frozen in. 

“What are you doing?” He asked when Sukuna failed to speak first. Choso quickly scanned the rest of the kitchen. It was a mess. Contents of their pantry and fridge decorated their countertops without a plan, dirty bowls and pots stuffed in the sink, which definitely weren’t left from dinner. Sukuna broke his trans and placed the pan on the stove.

“G-go back to bed, Choso,” he said with a pained grimace. Choso noted that he seemed a bit out of breath for some reason. Sukuna averted his eyes when they threatened to meet again. It wasn’t out of the ordinary to see Sukuna eat. He had always been one to eat large quantities and at any time of the day. If the food was the only thing to see, Choso wouldn’t have had to ask what he was doing. But something about the situation didn’t feel right. And Sukuna's avoidance in regards to his question confirmed it. 

He stared at his brother, who displayed a vulnerability he had never seen before. It made Choso uncomfortable. He should probably leave. Complying with Sukuna’s wish, he turned on his heel to go back upstairs. When he wasn’t met with Yuji, he had deflated, and he could feel the lack of sleep catch up with him. With Sukuna still in his periphery, he heard him speak again. 

“Don’t tell dad about this, okay?” he requested, failing to convey any sort of assertion. Choso didn’t understand. There was nothing to tell. Besides, if it was the food Sukuna was worried about, there was no way their dad wouldn’t notice with that amount missing. At this point, there was nothing saving Sukuna from that. Too tired to argue, he gave a simple nod and made his way to his bed. 

Choso must have fallen asleep eventually because he woke up with a jolt. He stared at his digital watch without enough consciousness to connect the digits to an actual time. When he finally came around, he was in disbelief. 

11.42

He can’t remember the last time he woke up that late. For several years, he had been a restless sleeper, borderline insomniac, both having trouble falling asleep and waking up far earlier than he wished. That in and of itself stressed him, and soon enough, yesterday's event reentered his brain. His head felt heavy on his neck, eyelids refusing to open all the way despite his efforts to pull his eyebrows up with them. He rested with a palm against his forehead.

The sentences tried to form in his brain. He tried to think things through. Things with Yuji. Stuff he learned in therapy. If he could just make sense of it all, then perhaps he would be able to find a way to fix this. Make Yuji happy again. But the more he tried to think, the quieter his inner dialogue became. There was such an overwhelming amount of things to start from that it ended up in a worthless knot of things that meant nothing at all. The significance of methods or analyses became infinitely small against the ball of anxiety that prickled in his stomach. 

Choso wasn’t sure how long he had been zoned out for when he, once again, heard noises from the kitchen downstairs. Without much choice, he stood up and changed into his regular clothes, ignoring how his body swayed from side to side with dizziness. When he was making his way down the stairs again, he realized that he would have better luck this time. The soft whistling noises coming from the kitchen were a clear indication of Yuji. Not only that, but whistling must mean he is in a better mood. With a feeling of some relief, he stepped foot into the kitchen.

“Good morning,” he tried. Yuji swung around, a box of cereal in his hand, the other dragging through his hair, pushing it back, making him resemble Sukuna more than himself. Choso held his breath. Yuji looked straight at him, opened his mouth only to exhale deeply, and look away. Choso understood that he had a very limited chance to make things right again.

“Good morning,” Yuji replied after his semi-long contemplation. 

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” Choso said immediately, really meaning it. Hurting Yuji had never been his intention. Far from it. But apologizing felt more important than trying to explain himself. Yuji looked down at the floor for a couple of seconds, hands tightening around the breakfast meal. 

“I’m sorry too, I said something really mean,” He looked back at Choso, mouth tightly shut in a scowl. Choso tried his luck and flashed him a gentle smile.

“It’s okay,” he replied. The corner of Yuji’s mouth made a small tug. He reached the box of cereal towards Choso. Without trying to show how hesitant he felt, he met Yuji and took the item. Then he stood with it, unsure if Yuji had wanted him to put it away or if it was an invitation to eat breakfast together. Any other day, he wouldn’t have questioned it. Before Yuji could see his glitch, he dragged his feet to the nearest cabinet to grab a bowl. He figured if Yuji didn’t want him there, he would soon make it clear. The honey-coated oats clattered on the ceramic. Choso wasn’t very fond of them, but they were Yuji’s favorite. 

“Dad left early this morning,” Yuji said, fully immersed in slicing an apple. “He said he won’t be coming home until late, so we have to make dinner ourselves.” He moves the knife with expertise, smooth in the well-trained motions. Choso adored watching him cook. 

“Okay,” Choso replies in a lack of anything better to say, tension still cluttering the air between them. Yuji finished preparing his bowl and moved to sit down at their kitchen table. Choso got the urge to hurry. He quickly poured some milk into his bowl and went to join Yuji at the table. 

“Sukuna left too, about half an hour ago. Didn’t say where he was going,” Yuji continued, mouth full with the content of his meal, eyes avoiding Choso. The way he was presenting information made it difficult to keep the conversation alive. Or perhaps it was just Choso’s lack of social skills. There was so much he wanted to say to Yuji, but his thoughts weren’t sorted yet. He wasn’t ready to say things and make sure he didn’t make it all worse. 

“I made up with Fushiguro,” he revealed, voice a bit lower than before as if he gambled on whether it would be heard at all. Choso looked up at him, feeling the need to swallow down the mixture of emotions that rose within him. He didn’t have time to feel things; now was his chance to redeem himself from yesterday, and he wasn’t going to miss it.

“That’s great!” He hears right away how flat it comes out. Not at all as he intended it. His hand tightened around the spoon. He didn’t dare to look at Yuji, study him for changes in expressions or subtle signs that it had landed as it sounded it would. 

“You don’t mean that,” Yuji stated with a voice that completely lacked emotion. The response had come quickly enough to reveal that he already had his expectations set on how Choso would feel about this. It was laced so heavily in disappointment that it made Choso feel impossibly small. A worthless, small, weak worm that would serve everyone better to be squished underneath someone's shoe. 

He didn’t know what to say. Could he even claim that Yuji was wrong? Perhaps he wasn’t happy. He probably wasn’t. Finding out that the reason Yuji had been looking so pained the last week was because of Megumi made him want to get rid of him. Fix the problem and put the smile back on Yuji. He knew it was flawed thinking. He knew it served himself more than Yuji. He understood all that now. But it didn’t make the feelings change. 

The breakfast in front of him suddenly felt like a huge burden. There was nothing he wanted less than putting the soggy cereal in his mouth. Yuji had stopped eating too. Even from the corner of Choso’s eye, he could tell that Yuji had words on his tongue.

“Sometimes I wish you could just be happy for me,” Is what eventually comes out. The words were delivered with intent, but his voice was thick with emotion. Yuji seldom sounded like that. Choso finally dared to look at his face. Yuji’s eyes flickered away towards their hallway. “Every time something good happens to me, you act like I’ve done something wrong.”

Choso feels his air being taken away. He opens his mouth but everything expect for words are sucked out. He can’t even fathom what Yuji is telling him. It is so far from what he thinks and wants that he doesn’t know where to meet Yuji. No one makes Choso happier than Yuji. No one will root for his success and happiness more than Choso. It’s all he ever tries to convey. But now Yuji is telling him that it’s the opposite? That he tries to steer Yuji away from happiness? 

“You only care about yourself.” He continues. Choso feels his body start to shiver. At first, he thinks that he feels cold. That all his body heat has left. But he realizes he is tensing his entire body. Every single muscle is on the brink of giving up. The shakes become visible. He presses his body against the table in an attempt to make it stop, placing his hands between his thighs to tie himself together enough to be able to handle this situation. He has to tell Yuji that he is wrong. 

“That’s not true,” he tries, but it’s meek. Recent therapy sessions play in his mind, and suddenly, he gets the feeling that everything is his fault. It may not have been his intention to do this to Yuji, but it doesn’t change the way he has made Yuji feel. He already knew. He knew that he wasn’t making Yuji happy with his love. That was the whole point of going to therapy. 

How can he live with this? Live with knowing it has caused so much hurt?

“You make me feel like I can never be happy.” Yuji’s voice had become louder. It’s as though the words are just spilling out. Years of pent-up emotions and unsaid words are being unraveled. Choso doesn’t breathe. He doesn’t recognize the boy in front of him, who spits out more anger and sadness than what should fit in his thirteen-year-old body. “Stop watching me all the damn time!!”

“Yuji, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean-” 

“You always try to keep me from doing things I like! I always have to be considerate of how you feel, but I’m sick of it!!” Yuji’s hands are tightly gripping the table, knuckles and fingertips turning white. “It’s my life!!!” He screams and slams his index finger into his chest. Choso is disturbed by seeing the aggression he directs towards himself. The tears burn behind his eyes, and he stands up and reaches out for Yuji. He reacts as if he is being burned and rises from his chair in a panicked motion. It knocks it over, drawing his arms towards his body, and turns to the side, all to get as far away from Choso as possible.

“DON’T TOUCH ME!” Yuji is shaking now, all teeth showing in an expression that is read both as anger and fear. Choso wants to comfort him. He wants to hold him. Protect him. Help him. He sees the tears well up in Yuji’s eyes, his breath sounds laboured. 

“Yuji-”

“You are a useless brother!” He yells. “Can you just die already?!?” Yuji’s face disappears. He is looking straight at his brother, but he can’t see him. He doesn’t know what face he is making anymore. He can’t tell if he says anything more, if he moves, if he does anything at all. The familiar room suddenly feels foreign and strange, like in a dream where you know where you are, but the setting isn’t quite right. Choso wants to leave. He really, really wants to leave, but his mind has lost its way in their house. He can’t get his brain to take him away and out of their kitchen. The only thing he hears is his own breath accompanied by a ringing in his ears. 

He walks. Apparently, he walks because he misses the last step of their staircase outside the front door, making him stumble on his feet. He walks until he doesn’t see the ground below him from all the tears in his eyes. The shaking is worse than ever, it shouldn’t even be possible to keep his balance. The whole world feels detached from his presence. Like a layer of water between his senses and everything they should be taking in. 

He knows he shouldn’t be leaving Yuji. Deep down, he knows Yuji really needs someone right now. But it’s all far away. Choso can’t even remember what Yuji had told him. He just knows that it hurts. It hurts to damn much that he wishes he wouldn’t have to remember Yuji at all. Or anyone in his family. And least of all, himself. His hands feel bigger than they should. A branch scratches his face, but he feels numb. He takes notes of the forest he has entered, but fails to do much more with the thought. 

Choso understands that he loses time. In the short moments his mind comes to the surface to breathe, he can grasp that he should stop walking, that he isn’t aware enough to wander around aimlessly. The connection between thought and action is broken, and it’s only when he feels the ground beneath him disappear and everything goes black that it stops.

Chapter Text

CW: Binge eating, graphic description of suicide and suicide attempt, swearing and foul language, blood, trauma

"Is that blood?"

"Yes, it goes from that bag aaall the way down to Choso's arm,"

"Can't he just drink it?"

"Haha, no, then it would end up in his tummy and not in his heart,"

"Hm,"

"Dad, isn't Cho scared?"

"Why don't you ask him?"

"Where does the blood come from?"

"Well, you see, your brother's body doesn't have enough blood, but people who do can choose to donate it. Then they will take blood from them so people like Choso can get some extra."

"Will they die?

"No, you only take a little bit. Besides, the body can make more blood."

"Why doesn't Cho make more blood?

"He does, just not enough."

"I want to do it."

"Do what, sweetie?"

"Give my blood to Cho."

"That's really nice, perhaps one day you will."

"Why not now?"

"No, you have to wait until you're 18."

"Why?"

"Because the body needs to be strong and big before you can do something like that,"

"When will I be 18?"

"Many, many years in the future."

"When I'm 18, I will do it."

The days of downpour had made the summer day unusually chilly. Although it wasn’t particularly windy, Sukuna pulled the hood over his head and tightened the strings to gain some shield from the air. His decision to lie down on a rock for an hour was perhaps not the wisest, seeing how the ground was still damp from yesterday. He didn’t care to check if he was visibly soaked or not. Figured he was better off not knowing. 

The attempt to avoid anyone he knew had led him to the woods. Normally, he found some solace in easily finding people to be around when being at home sucked. But today, he would rather be back home and rot with his brothers than be seen by his friends. He felt terrible in ways that were difficult to mask. At least at home, he could shut himself in his room and spit at whoever dared to approach. Outside, he had somewhat of a reputation.

Sukuna sat up. It was really getting cold. Sleeves went over his hands, arms hugging his torso, pushing his upper body towards his thighs to curl up. He quickly regretted the position as the pressure against his midsection triggered a wave of nausea. Therefore, he opted to freeze instead. 

He was startled when the phone rang. The contact name on the screen, although he hated to admit it, did bring him some relief. He answered without greeting.

"Hey, wasn't sure you were awake," his dad said, sounding as positive as ever. As if an out-of-the-blue phone call with his grumpy kid was today’s highlight. Sukuna wasn’t sure how to respond to the dig. Frankly, it pissed him off a bit. It was almost 4 pm after all.

"Hm," he chose to say. Mostly to say anything at all, wanting to avoid any awkward questions about whether he was there or not. 

"Feeling okay?" he asked. It immediately raised suspicion in Sukuna. He cracked his jaw to de-tense it. It wasn’t uncommon for his dad to call out of the blue. The old man called an annoying number of times. Sukuna really didn’t get it. He was still living at home, so what was the point of calling and checking on him during the day too? Didn’t he get enough of his useless eldest son already?

"Yeah, why?" He answered, displaying the mistrust in the question he was asked. Fully alert, he took note of the silence that lasted a bit too long for his liking. He felt his heart rate pick up. 

"It happened again last night, didn't it?" Sukuna swallowed, nausea on full blast. His body went hot. First thought shot at the memory of Choso staring him down in the middle of the night. That fucking bastard! He fucking promised not to say anything! Sukuna had honestly felt pretty confident that he wouldn’t. Sure, Choso was a terrible liar and very close to their dad, but he was also true to his word. He thought he could trust him a bit. Apparently fucking not. 

"What?" He said, trying the option to play dumb. But knowing his dad, it wouldn’t work. 

"Binge eating," He stated. Just as Sukuna had thought, playing tricks would only result in the old man being extremely straightforward. His jaw is clamped shut, muscles so tense that it gives him a headache. He can physically feel the anger boiling up. His heart was beating so hard that he could feel his body jerk with it. 

He can fucking die for trying to imply that shit! For talking like he gives a shit. Choso can die too for being such a fucking snake. I can’t believe he went straight to daddy and ratted me out. They don’t understand anything. Fucking nothing. How dare they even look at me like I’m the one being a mental fucking wreck when they both can’t keep their shit together a full fucking day? Do they even see themselves?

"Shouldn't you be at work?" He bites, holding back most of the raging thoughts that threatened to spill. 

"I am," he stated calmly. Sukuna brings his phone away from his face and mouths the most foul swearwords to his unknowing father. It feels as though his entire body is about to explode. Anger directed at everything and nothing at the same time. Bizarre bursts of energy that can’t be contained. 

"Then why the fuck are you on your phone, I hope you get fired" He snaps, immediately followed by shame and regret. Pride twisting his tongue to stop an apology. 

"Sukuna," His voice is gentle and patient. It takes the edge off Sukuna's outburst. He swallows the lump in his throat repeatedly, placing his head in his free hand, headache throbbing. 

"...I was just hungry," He resigns. It’s not the first time they've had a conversation about this topic. Although it shouldn’t be a topic at all cause nothing is going on. But his dad likes to  lump him together with all the other losers of their family who have mental problems. Amongst all those lunatics, does he really need a diagnosis too?

"Does your stomach hurt?" He continues, the same gentle yet serious tone. Somehow, being doted on hits the worst spot possible. Words escape Sukuna's mouth on autopilot. 

"Don't-" He bites his tongue mid-sentence, stops his breath completely in some effort to control his anger enough to deescalate the situation. Despite the obvious aggression, his dad continues with the same demeanor.

"You can get help with these kinds of things, you know," Sukuna can tell his dad is well prepared to have this conversation. It was unfair. He had probably had hours to think about what to say and different ways to get under his skin. He definitely had the upper hand. 

"I don't need help," He hissed, hoping his dad would catch on. It was bad enough that his dad had found out from the very beginning. He wished he had gone about this thing differently so that he never would have noticed the missing food, the footsteps late at night. Sukuna still remembers the first time he was caught in the act. So cruelly embarrassing. The type of shit that makes you wish yourself out of your body in more ways than one. 

"I'm also here, you know you can always come to me," His dad added. Sukuna takes a stab to his heart. He swallows through more thickness. He understands that his father has good intentions. 

"What the fuck do you want me to say?? I-" 

That I’m a greedy piece of shit that can’t control myself? Hi dad, I just ate your whole single father income in food just because I was feeling fucked up? Hell, I’m barely aware of what the fuck I’m doing. Do you want me to come cry to you? Want me to crumble and be sad with you? 'Cause that’s not what I’m feeling. I’m so angry I could probably punch your face in. Sure that would end well…

Sukuna presses the edge of his phone into his temple, where his headache hurts the most. His hand wipes the tears before they exist. 

"I won't ever be mad," his dad states reassuringly. It should be reassuring, but somehow his words mean nothing. 

"Shut up! Piss off! I’m gonna hang up!" It’s getting too much to handle. This was definitely not what he needed right before he had decided to finally head back home.

"Sukuna, I love you,"

"Mm"

He sits in silence for a couple of seconds before disconnecting the call. Before putting his phone back in his pocket, he turns it off. His gaze gets fixed on nothing before him, thoughts start to spin again. 

His dad was always too dramatic, blowing things up to be bigger than what they are. Sure, he would understand being pissed about the food. The thing was that he wasn’t, though. At least if he came at him with a scolding or a hard hand, there would be something to get out of this. But this, this love . It only served to worsen his meek character. How the hell did he expect Sukuna to lean on someone who couldn’t even stand up for themselves? 

Sukuna didn’t need any help. He wasn’t like Choso, who fell apart over every small inconvenience. Neither was he like that old hag who went and slit her wrists and throat open. He wanted nothing to do with their weakness. 

He shivered as he walked back through the woods. The way his clothes clung to his body told him that he was definitely wet. If he took a longer route, he could exit the forest closer to his house, so that no one would have to see his pathetic state. 

Sukuna let out a sigh. He supposed he was thankful that their dad had taken Choso’s situation seriously, though. Although he wasn’t sure that therapist was going any good. He found himself thinking of his brother as more absent-minded than usual. And he didn’t seem particularly happier either. But after what happened earlier that summer, he sure wasn’t one to pretend to know anything about how to handle situations like that. Another chill went through his body; this time, he was unsure if the culprit was the wind or the creeping memories.

Earlier that summer, right after school ended. Yuji was at a friend’s house having a sleepover, so it had only been him, Choso, and their dad at home.

It must have been a weekend then, if dad was home. 

Choso had been acting weird for a while. I mean, he was always weird, but now he was even weird for being him. This last year, they no longer went to the same school, so it was difficult to know what was going on there. He has always been one to get picked on, and Sukuna couldn’t imagine it getting better after he graduated and left him to his own means. Although he didn’t want to make it too obvious, he always tried to steer the most troublesome people out of Choso’s way. Now he was all alone. The new look with the makeup and dark attire probably didn’t help either. Sukuna really didn’t get why he would do that to himself. 

Nonetheless, Choso, who has always been introverted and a bit of a space-out, seemed to have simply lost it. He was more difficult to talk to. Barely answered if it didn’t have to do with Yuji. It was all Yuji. Yuji Yuji Yuj. Seemed to be all he ever could and wanted to think about. Even the brat noticed how weird it was, uneasily twisting under Choso’s eyes.

Their dad didn’t do shit about it either. Would probably call it brotherly love or something. But it wasn’t good for any of them. That Sukuna could see that from miles away. Choso had always clung to Yuji, but this was a whole other level. It was obsessive weird and most importantly fucking annoying. 

“Hey, stop that,” he said, the fourth time Choso stood up to follow a bypassing car with his gaze through their kitchen window in hopes of it being his younger brother coming back a whole day too early. His anxiousness spread like the plague. Sukuna was very close to duct taping him to that damn chair. Choso sat back down, hardly due to his brother’s words. The breakfast on his plate was untouched. Sukuna grabbed a bread knife to make himself another sandwich.

“I wish he would just stay home,” Choso spoke. It was unclear if the words were meant to be heard. Sukuna frowned at him. The state of Choso was worrying. Eyes that either indicated a sleepless night or a bucket of tears. Perhaps both. He seemed tired despite being on edge. Sukuna found himself not wanting to look at him.

The sandwich was done, and he took the seat opposite Choso at the table. They had sat like that before Yuji was born. Before Yuji took his seat. 

“Tsk, leave him alone for once,” he muttered, digging into his food. Choso didn’t pay him any attention. They sat in silence for a while. 

As difficult as it was to admit, it might be one of Sukuna's favorite things about having a brother. Just sitting in silence. No pressure to talk or put on an act. It was relaxing. The type of comfort that was hard to get anywhere else. 

Unfortunately, it was all cut short by Choso rising again, hands against the windowsill, nose almost pressed against the window. Sukuna’s fist hammered against their kitchen table. Choso’s spoon flew out of his bowl, and yoghurt splattered across the surface. The sound redirects Choso’s attention. 

“Dammit, why are you like this?” he shouts. By the time his consciousness caught up with his anger, it was already too late. The shame from lashing out worked like needles in his eyes. It stung in ways that made him press his lips into a thin line. “Leave that fucking kid alone,” he spews. “No wonder he fucking avoids you,”

He sees Choso swallow. Something fearful fills his eyes. For what felt like the first time in years, he stared at Sukuna with unwavering eyes, holding his breath like the next would be his last. Sukuna pants through the slope of his own outburst, face still twisted in irascibility. 

“He does?” Choso starts to visibly breathe again, chest heaves up and down like it’s heavy. Like the whole world just became heavy. The way his eyes ask for relief creates a pit in his stomach. Just as Sukuna opens his mouth to speak again, he spots a tear streaming down his brother’s face. If any soft feelings had surfaced, they left him before he could acknowledge them. 

“DON’T FUCKING CRY,” he stood up and leaned across the table, casting a shadow over his face. His hands tremble. Turmoil and coldness filled his body. Choso’s horrified eyes stared back at his. A second tear stops halfway down his cheek as if it carried its own consciousness to obey him. The words escape from his control, hatred and spit fly out of his mouth like an ugly curse.

“Of course he fucking does! He can’t fucking stand you and the way you watch over him like a damn hawk,” Choso grits his teeth, stands up so fast he almost headbutts Sukuna. 

“He is my little brother, of course, I watch over him. What if he gets hurt? What if-”

“The only one…” Sukuna points his finger at Choso, tapping it aggressively on his forehead. He flinches a bit. “...who hurts him is you .” Choso’s head starts to shake before words leave his mouth. Sukuna can tell that something in him breaks. He gulps through his own emotions. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows he couldn’t say anything worse than that. He knows how hard Choso will take it. But none of that matters in the moment. The knowledge isn’t enough to mitigate the damage he caused. It all just bubbles up as hurt, confusion, and fear. A mixture of everything that takes away who you really are. He wants to hurt him. Shake him until he gets his brother back. Beat those dead eyes out of him. Take back the fun and kind younger brother he once knew and spit on whoever the hell had been in front of him for the last year. No, for the last 13 years. 

“I would never,” he hisses. “I would never hurt Yuji,” Choso’s breaths pick up. His hand comes up in a fist that he presses against his chest. Shallow and ragged breaths. Sukuna can tell he is panicking. Spiraling worse than he has ever seen him before. He should stop. He should embrace him, provide comfort as a good older brother. Or at least call their dad, who has been scrubbing the garage floor the entire morning, to let him handle it. If he were a good person, he would help him. If he were good enough, he could solve this. 

But he sees red. He could literally kill him. It’s although his entire body charges for it. He can almost see it happening. The way he grabs a fistful of Choso’s hair and slams his head against the table. Repeats it until his nose is broken and the table is painted red with blood. His body jolts in the restraints of his mind that holds on to sanity for dear life. It takes everything in him to do nothing. Terrified of his own lack of control, he starts to shake in tension.

“You already have,” he hears himself say. His voice sounded like when speaking into an empty jar. Choso’s hands tremble. When Sukuna tries to study his face, he feels his eyes and brain disconnect. It tells him nothing at all. 

Suddenly, Choso bolts past him. From the corner of his eye, he sees that he grabs the bread knife Sukuna left on the counter. It drags Sukuna out of his self-set paralysis. His wobbly legs sprint after Choso up the stairs. 

“Hey, Choso, stop!” he shouts. Just as he reaches the top of the stairs, the door to Choso’s room slams shut. The lock clicks. Seconds later, Sukuna pushes his entire weight down on the door handle. He pushes it up and down repeatedly, the other hand banging on the door. 

“Open the fucking door! Choso open the fucking door!!” There is no way to distinguish between the anger and the panic. It flashes over him in waves, stealing his air, knocking his feet from the ground. “Please open the door!!”

He pushes against the door. Slamming his shoulder into it as hard as he can. Physically, he doesn’t feel a thing. There is no plan in his actions. He doesn’t know what he will do once the door opens. Perhaps Choso is safer with him on this side. 

“FUCKING DIE THEN! KILL YOUSELF JUST LIKE HER!” A sob of his own escaped his lips. He gasps for air. The anger has run out. Never before did he think there was a limit to it; it had never felt like it. 

He cries so hard his teeth shatter. Holding back the sound is no longer an option. His fists grow weaker in their slams. 

“Choso please,” he hicks. “Please don’t do anything! Please don’t do anything! I’m sorry! Don’t do it! I’m sorry!”

It’s quiet on the other side of the door. Sukuna puts a hand over his mouth to muffle his own voice. Nothing. Not a single sound can he heard from inside. He sprints to his own room, shuffles through the contents of his desk. He finds a pair of scissors and a rusty screw driver. Once back at the door, he tries to work the lock. His mind is scattered, his hands tremble so badly that he can’t get the tools to enter the holes. He lets out a frustrated yelp and presses the back of the screw driver against his chest, using his body to place it right. It takes too long before the lock clicks again. 

He pushes into the room. Eyes scan the area, looking for a scene he doesn’t even dare make up in his mind. The first thing he notices is the knife on his desk. He flicks his head around, looking for blood or a body. A gust of wind pulls his attention towards the open window. 

His heart stops. He is no longer able to tear his eyes from the flowing curtains. No longer able to further inspect the room to see if Choso is there. He could be in his closet, hiding under his bed to pull a prank on him. There are many options. Many things to think about and believe that are better than where his mind goes. But it’s all useless, because he knows. 

Without thinking, he takes two steps towards the window. As he leans over the sill, he catches a glimpse of Choso below. It’s enough for his body to retract. It’s a physical reaction, like putting your hand on a hot stove. He stumbles back, head spinning so badly he has to sit down on the floor. Sounds break through his lips, but he can’t hear his own voice. His ears start to ring. 

His mind floods, splits, and goes blank in intervals. The imagery of a pale frame in an unnatural position against the ground, dark hair covering parts of the face. Frail body, tired eyes. 

Dead eyes. 

Dead eyes.

Her scent mixed with the metallic smell of blood. So much blood. 

Sukuna’s mind splits. When he pushes himself to standing, he can no longer connect with his body. Every single limb weighs a ton, but he walks on air. 

Walking? He doesn’t want to walk. Suddenly, he sees himself make his way out of the room, watching himself in third person as if he had been taken over by someone else. Casted out of his own vessel. The face lacks emotion, and he feels it isn’t his. That’s not what he feels.

His soul ramms straight into his body, both hands pushing on his torso in hopes of stopping the frame from proceeding in its path. Instead of working, his hands slip through, sink into the flesh, and he dives headfirst back into the body that doesn’t do what he wants it to. It takes him with steady steps down the stairs like he is a mere passenger. His mind is screaming. He is screaming, but no words come out.

He approaches the front door too fast. He isn’t ready yet. He doesn’t want to see. 

He remembers the sun blinding him as he exits their house. He remembers their dad already being by Choso’s side, pushing him to lie back down. The very last thing he remembers - there is no blood.

In the end, Choso didn’t get a single scratch, no broken bones, not even a concussion. In retrospect that must have sucked in it’s own way but Sukuna remember being so relieved. They checked him quickly at the hospital, but then they were sent home. Sukuna was pretty out of it but he had a feeling they weren’t taken seriously. Perhaps if Choso had been in a worse physical state they would. 

Their dad had run his phone hot the entire evening, calling every damn therapist in the city. Not telling Yuji had been an unspoken rule. When he came back home from his friend, they all did their best to pretend like nothing had happened. Sukuna didn’t know him well enough to tell if he suspected anything.

Sukuna unlocks the front door to their home. It had already started to dusk, the street lights flickered on just minutes before he arrived. When entering the house, he was met with an unfamiliar darkness. The atmosphere was wrong. It lacked activity. No smells of newly cooked food, no sound indicating activities of two teenage boys during summer break. 

“Hello?” he called, uncharacteristically, half-convincing himself that the anxiety was brought on by his falter during the day. 

He flinched hard when the wall-mounted phone rang. The sounds of it echoed through the home. It was a dusty old thing. Sukuna wasn’t sure why their dad kept it in this day and age. On autopilot, he hurried over to it, mostly to cut off the piercing sound. 

“Hello?” he answered. 

“Hello, am I speaking to Itadori?” The person on the other end asked. Sukuna lifted a brow. 

“Yes?” he simply answered.

“Great, It’s Doctor Shoko. I couldn’t reach your cell phone, so I figured I would try this number that was in our system.” Sukuna feels overwhelmed trying to piece things together. One thing is for sure, though: this phone call was not for him. The doctor continues. 

“We have the results for your son Choso’s bloodwork. I’m calling to let you know that he is very low on hemoglobin. It’s at a level of 70 grams per Litre. You were completely right in coming in and getting him tested when you did.” The cogs align for Sukuna. He suddenly feels overburdened to be the bearer of all this information. This is important. What did she say? Did she say 70? 70 what?

“We would recommend you bring him in as soon as possible so that we can run a couple of more tests. Most likely, he will need another blood transfusion, especially considering his medical record.”

Sukuna feels his heart rate pick up. He knew it…he knew something wasn’t right with him.  

“Sir, are you there?” The doctor's voice pulls him out of his head. 

“Yes, still here,” he states, feeling unsure if he missed any information.

“Is it possible for you to bring him in this afternoon? It would be the best,” she says. Sukuna’s head spins. He answers the only thing that he deems reasonable.

“Yes, I will bring him right away,” he promises.

“Good, I will let them know you will be coming.” 

Sukuna thinks he mumbles a ‘thanks’ before they hang up. Afterwards, he stands with the phone in his hands. It takes a moment for his mind to collect itself. He takes a sharp inhale and tries to figure out how to handle the situation. Dad is working late and is apparently not picking up his phone. He should probably go with Choso, he should check his wallet to see if he has enough money for a taxi. Yuji is old enough to be home alone, right?

In the middle of making a plan, he hears the first indication of another human being in the residence. Hurried footsteps make their way towards the top of the stairs. He ducks to see who it is. Pink, messy hair appears in the darkness of the upstairs corridor. Yuji takes a couple of steps down the stairs before noticing him. When he does, his face changes. 

Disappointment. That’s new. Although he has to admit, any other day it would be refreshing. Now it adds to the ever-growing feeling that something is wrong. Yuji has stopped. They meet eyes for a couple of seconds before he turns on his heel to head back up. Now that’s even weirder. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Sukuna asks sternly, not moving an inch. Yuji stops again, without turning, he speaks. 

“Nothing,” He scans the kid. Tries to figure him out. Choso had always been easy to read. Yuji was way harder. Or perhaps he wasn’t paying as much attention to him. But something was definitely wrong, that was for sure. Yuji starts walking again. With three long steps, Sukuna has caught up with him at the top of the stairs. He grabs Yuji by the shoulder and yanks him around. 

“Something is wrong,” he states. “What is it?” He looks into Yuji’s eyes. The kid looks tense. Frightened. The gnarling feeling grows. “Where is Choso?” Under his hand, he feels Yuji’s shoulder rise and fall in sync with his breath.

“He’s gone,”

Chapter Text

CW: Blood

“What do you mean gone?” 

Yuji shrinks under his touch, withdraws into himself. Sukuna can tell he doesn’t intend to answer by how he presses his lips together and swallows slowly. He curls up the fabric of Yuji’s shirt underneath his hands to hold him in a grip.

“Don’t just say ‘gone’!” He rattles Yuji lightly, making him meet his eyes. It annoys the hell out of him that the kid who always has something to say suddenly decided to go mute the second it mattered. Sure, Yuji seemed to find Choso more and more of a nuisance, but he still cared about him. He was a good kid, that much Sukuna knew. Something must have happened. 

“He left,” Yuji said, voice coming out meek but clear. The answer was unsatisfying. 

“When? What happened?!” Sukuna pushes on. He notes how his emotions spill, coming out in aggressions that Yuji doesn’t crumble under. Doesn’t even seem to mind it. A familiar feeling comes rushing in, but he pushes it away. Now isn’t the time. 

“Around lunch,” He monotoned. Sukuna took a good look at the boy in front of him. Hair unkempt as if he had been pulling at it. His eyes were slightly red and puffy in contrast to his unusually pale skin. He almost commented on it before the spoken words began to sink in.

“Lunch?? That’s hours ago!” He lashed. The nausea hit him like a wave again, worry causing his tongue to dry. Choso rarely went out. He had never been an outdoor person, and it wasn’t like he had a bunch of friends to hang out with either, so there was really nowhere to go. He asks anyway.

“Where did he go??”

“I don’t know,” Yuji murmured. It was becoming increasingly difficult to breathe, like his body wasn’t open to let anything go. Frozen in a state right before panic, as if it’s something you can pause. Sukuna remembers the phone call. The promise to bring Choso in as soon as possible. This couldn’t be happening. Not now.

“Why did he leave? Did he say anything?” He pleads with Yuji, needing the kid to start explaining things. He has to know everything. “Yuji?”

He sees Yuji swallow and something in his expression cracks. Sukuna studies him with the same anticipation as when you face your palm against the sky minutes before getting soaked. It’s silent and dreadful.

“I messed up…” The words come out so quietly that Sukuna is unsure if he heard them correctly. 

“What was that?”

“I fucked up okay!” Yuji confessed loudly. The stern look of uncertainty finally crumbled into a worried frown. The inner corners of his eyebrows rose, and his teeth gritted. It looked like he was holding back a wave a tears. “I said terrible things to him, and then he just ran out.”

It plays in Sukuna's mind as a movie. A terrible reenactment of his own memory from earlier that summer. Chasing after a disaster that he could have prevented had he been faster, had he been kinder, or anything other than what he was. 

“What did you say?” He wasn’t sure why he asked. Perhaps to try and stop the memory from playing. Have Yuji paint the picture of this event instead, so he would be equipped to handle it for what it was. 

“That he was a terrible brother,” Yuji spilled quietly, visibly taking a deep breath. Soaked in shame and guilt, he won’t look Sukuna in the eyes anymore. “And that I wish him dead,”

You told him what???

No, no, no.

Sukuna pushes past Yuji, shoving the kid aside like he is a ragdoll, stumbles through the corridor on legs weak from having all the blood sucked from his head. When he enters the doorway to Choso’s room, the feeling is so similar that he might as well be back on that day in early June. Instead of looking too closely, he fishes his phone out from his pocket, trembling fingers finding Choso’s name. He presses the phone as close to his ear as possible. While the call connects, he begs for Choso to pick up crying like a fucking ba-

The muffled signal interrupted his thoughts. That stupid ringtone he has had since forever cuts through the silence like nails on a chalkboard. Sukuna skids over to the bed to confirm what he already knew. He finds it under his bedsheets. The screen lit up with the words ‘Incoming call: Nana’. 

His own phone goes flying into the door of Choso’s closet, completely killing the sound upon impact, leaving an ugly black mark on the white surface of the door. Parts scattered across the carpet. He wants to tear everything apart. Flip over the desk, slam his fists into it until it either breaks or he does. Beat until blood covers the room and he physically can’t feel anything anymore. At the same time, he finds no more strength in his body. He is so tired. Exhausted to the point of wanting to just lie down on the floor right there and never think about anything or anyone again. Just then, Yuji shows up in the doorway, and he erupts. 

“Well, you might get what you wish for,” he heard himself hiss coldly. The anger is back, pulsating through his body like poison and ice. Yuji gets the most terrified look on his face, and he finds himself almost finding it pleasurable. Almost.

“What do you mean? What do you mean?? Sukuna? He wouldn’t-?” he starts fretting. 

“You don’t know a single fucking thing.” Sukuna bites back, throwing his arms out in a motion. His body feels uncooperative and tense. He steps towards the kid, hands clawing at the air as if to simulate grabbing him without touching. “You think he goes to therapy for fucking fun? You can’t tell he is suicidal??”

Something about saying it out loud breaks something in him. He brings his hand to drag down his face, removing tears he can no longer hold back. “God, fucking dammit!” His voice comes out thick.

The tension hangs so thick that he is sure Yuji isn’t breathing either. When he finally looks at the kid again, he stands frozen like a statue. His face is contorted into a look of absolute rage, eyeing the floor as if it deserved hell. Sukuna had never seen him look like that before. He didn’t have time for this. Once again, he pushes past Yuji, down the stairs. With his mind blank and shoes halfway on, he hears Yuji scurry after him, repeating his steps. He doesn’t say anything when Yuji exits the front door so close behind him that he feels his ragged breath down his neck. 

Sukuna detours towards their garage to find something to conquer the ever-growing darkness that has set upon the sky above them. He swings the door open and starts climbing over the boxes and tools scattered across the floor. Yuji turns on the headlamp behind him. It doesn’t take long before he has found a flashlight. He tests the light and determines that it should last a while. 

They leave without turning off the light or locking any of their doors. Sukuna guesses that if Choso didn’t even bring his phone, he wouldn’t have the keys with him either. And if he were to come back, he wants him to be able to get into the house. 

If.

When.

Sukuna tries to push away the negative thoughts. Tries not to be overtaken by the overwhelm of the situation. He just needs to fix it. That’s all he should be thinking about. Yuji is quiet, and Sukuna doesn’t know what to say to him. Perhaps he doesn’t have much to say. Even if he tries, he has no words for him. No comfort or guidance, not even a scolding. It doesn’t hold space next to everything else. 

An urge points him towards the forest behind their home. It’s a large area leading towards the sea and further stretches to the outskirts of the city. If you follow the water, you will eventually end up as far from the city centre as you started. Take a forest route, and you can reach the city within an hour. Sukuna walked it himself earlier that very day. 

Doing something felt productive at first, but as the trees closed in behind them and the only thing guiding them was the beam from a small flashlight, the hopelessness started to creep in. What the hell did he think he was going to achieve? Comb through the forest in search of what? A body? Choso hugging a tree? Sukuna needed to think. He came to a halt, Yuji almost bumping into him. 

He figured if Choso had been upset, he would go as far from civilization as possible. He had always been reserved and anxious around others. Would he wander for hours? Or would he be curled up somewhere? Would he go towards the water? Would he have drowned himself? Would he be lost? Is he here? In the darkness? Is he dead? He is already dead, isn’t he? He wouldn’t dare to be here all alone. He doesn’t even like dirt, or trees, or being outside. He is already fucking dead, Sukuna knows it. He fucki-

A hand dunks him in the back. It knocks him out of his thoughts, and he stumbles forward as the hand remains pushing. 

“Move it,” Yuji commands, hissing through his teeth. “We have to find him.”

“Hello, this is Suguru Geto.”

“Hi, this is Jin Itadori, Choso’s father.”

“Oh, hi, sir,”

“Sorry to disturb you at this hour, but you don’t happen to have heard from my son?”

“No, I’m afraid not. Is something wrong?”

“Sorry, I have to go.”

“Hello, this is the police department. How can I help you?”

“Hello, I would like to report my three sons as missing.”

Sukuna has no idea where they are. The incoming illuminated branches and leaves in his vision all look the same as the ones ten minutes ago, an hour ago. Gosh, he didn’t even know how much time had passed. His body felt heavy, as if he had been walking for weeks. Under any normal circumstances, he would say they were lost. Betrayed by the forest he once knew to bring him security. They were swallowed, gushing around in its intestines, and it was no longer a comfort to be hidden and surrounded. The fear was fatigued but ached dull in his chest.

Yuji hadn’t said anything for a while. Sukuna wondered if he was scared too. He was probably confused; hell, he was just a kid. 

“Why didn’t you call anyone?” he questions, ending the sentence by clearing his throat to mask how stuffy he sounded. When an answer doesn’t come, he spins around and flashes the light straight into Yuji’s face. He squints his eyes under troubled eyebrows, frowning deeply. Sukuna tilts the flashlight to shine on Yuji’s shirt instead, his face only dimly lit. 

“I don’t know,” he confesses in a low voice. 

“If he is dead, it’s your fault.” It’s an involuntary invective. Words jumping out of his mouth like frogs, true to his heart but not his mind. Regret is futile against what’s already said and done. 

“I know.” 

It is the only answer Yuji provides. Sukuna wasn’t sure if he wished for him to bite back. Guilt weighs them both down. Yuji’s presence feels distant. 

“I’m sorry.” It’s no more than a whisper. Could easily be mistaken for a crunch of leaves and dirt under his shoe. “I’m sorry!” This time, Yuji is louder. Sukuna doesn’t humor him enough to turn around. He wants no apologies. In fact, he doesn’t want him to say anything at all. 

“It’s not me you should say sorry to,” he starts, stomping his steps down with more force, hoping to get rid of some unwanted emotions that begin to surface. Save the kid from being in the shooting range of the spillage. “...say it to Cho when we find him,” he adds, voice faltering towards the end. 

“I meant about mom,” 

Sukuna comes to a halt, utterly perplexed. 

“What?” He hopes his tone conveys how baffled he is by the topic. Their mom is the absolute last thing he wants to think about right now. It’s so irrelevant that he barely wants to engage in it. But the brat sounds so troubled that he can’t dismiss it. 

“I’m sorry I killed our mom,”

The sentence delivers like a slap to the face. Or perhaps a punch. It sends his head spinning, desperately trying to make sense of what Yuji just said. 

“Have you absolutely fucking lost your mind? What the fuck are you talking about?” He turns to look at Yuji without having the light follow. Its reflection on the ground barely cast light on them. He can only make out the whites of Yuji’s eyes, staring straight at him. 

It must be a joke. An extremely ill-placed, not-at-all-funny joke. Sukuna waits for Yuji’s expression to flip. For him to crack a smile and open up in a big hysterical laugh, justifying Sukuna calling the asylum or something. It would be understandable, this is stressful, and scary, and life is fucked up. Who isn’t losing their godamn mind?

But he doesn’t. He is completely fucking serious, and it’s terrifying. 

“Hey, open your mouth and tell me what the fuck you mean?” he demands. 

“Even you say it,” he starts. The anger is back in Yuji’s expression. Like his muscles tense themselves to a max, ready to inflate like springs. If it were Sukuna, he would lash out. He recognizes the anger so well. Sees how it washes over Yuji, engulfing him, water way above his head. Only nothing comes out. “...and I know it too. I know it’s my fault she is dead.”

“Shut up!” Sukuna doesn’t have energy for an outburst. This conversation is ridiculous. He starts walking again, fast-paced steps placed before thinking too hard about where. He can tell Yuji doesn’t follow. “I couldn’t care less about that old hag,”

“I know that’s not true,” Yuji bites back and picks up his pace, soon catching up with Sukuna. 

“You don’t know shit!” He reclaims. “You-”

“Watch out!”

His right foot steps into nothing. Before he can acknowledge it, he has already shifted his weight to it, bracing against nothing, and loses his balance. His heart manages to jump into his throat before he feels two hands grabbing fistfuls of his shirt and yanking him. His calves scrape against the edge, but Yuji had been quick enough to spare him from falling off whatever edge he had come upon. Sukuna stumbles backwards, elbows hitting the ground as he falls. Yuji’s steady grip on his shirt chokes him, and he pulls himself up. 

Only then does he realize he let go of the flashlight. He spots it blinking down beyond the lip of the rock. 

“Fuck!” He hurries over to the edge again, this time careful not to step too close. The drop isn’t ridiculously high, perhaps two meters, but it sure as hell would have hurt to plummet into the uneven surface below. Sukuna recognizes the area. It’s a rock formation that eventually leads to the sea. It’s on the same side of the forest as their house, which means they must have been going in circles. 

The flashlight lies in its loneliness at the bottom. It has stopped blinking. Not that it matters, it will do them no good down there anyway. Sukuna scans the scene to see if there is any safe way to drop down and get it. Jumping down is out of the question, at least if you care to keep yourself uninjured. He wonders if he can haul down Yuji carefully over the edge, but opts against it. It’s not worth risking getting him hurt. 

Just then, he spots something at the fringe of the light, something foreign, an oddity against the nature surrounding it, reflecting the little glow it gets. Sukuna moves before it clicks in his brain what it is, tripping over his own legs as he tries to get closer to what he is seeing. Yuji follows close behind, and Sukuna is almost sure he saw it too. Then his brain catches up.

“Choso!!” He calls out the name into the dark. They reach the place where the light stops. Sukuna hunches over the edge to try and get a closer look. The ugly shiny plastic boot starts moving and goes out of their field of vision. “Choso, do you hear me?” It takes a moment for his eyes to get used to the darkness, but he begins to vaguely make out the silhouette of his brother down below. He is seated with his back against a smaller boulder, head tilted forward in an awkward position.

“Choso!” Yuji calls out from behind him, too, moving to stand to the left of Sukuna. His voice sounds tight, but it seems to reach Choso. He tilts his head up and stares at them with wide, tired eyes. That’s when Sukuna spots the dark matter dripping down his face, starting at his hairline and running down the side of his nose. He is bleeding. 

“Cho, get on your feet.” It’s a command. His chest feels empty. Relief and horror are battling somewhere in his periphery, but he remains cold. 

“Why are you both here?” It’s a tear-stained voice that meets them. Choso slowly gets on his feet. He seems unbothered by his injuries. No hand goes to wipe the blood from his face. Sukuna sees smears of blood under his nose too, figuring he must have bled from there some time ago. Fuck, how long has he been bleeding? 

“Choso, are you okay?” Yuji is sounding stronger than Sukuna feels, voice steady and assertive like he is their older brother. He lies down on his stomach and inches over the edge. 

“Why are you here?”

“Just give us your hand!” Yuji extends his arm down towards Choso. Sukuna quickly follows his initiative and reaches out his own hand. The ground is still damp below him, the rock colder against his skin than it was earlier that day. Choso must be cold too. 

Their open hands plead towards their brother. He looks up at them with the most defeated look. Pale, faint, and scared, but with absolutely no indication of following the orders. 

“You aren't supposed to be here. I'm already taking up too much space.” He says quietly. Sukuna can tell he isn’t quite there, that he has become lost in his mind in the way he sometimes does when things become overwhelming. When he was younger, it used to happen a lot, but these days things come bursting out more. Choso suddenly feels very small to him. Like the boy who used to let his ice cream melt and make a sticky mess all over his hands. Someone he used to comfort when he failed to find anyone during hide and seek. Just a kid who needed a little extra protection. 

“What are you talking about??” Sukuna interrogates, feeling his barrier break down, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. As if sensed, Choso’s face crumbles and he makes the first real expression since they found him, trembling lips and flickering eyes.

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I cry so much and take all the attention. I'm really sorry. You don't have to be here, I can manage.” Choso cries. He breathes heavily as he wipes the tears streaming down. Blood that must have been on his hand stains his cheeks.

“I don't think you can,” Sukuna says, and leans forward a bit more, attempting to get his hand closer to Choso. He doubts Choso had been sitting there for the mere reason of not wanting to get home. From what he remembers from the area, it’s not easy to get down to the platform Choso is currently on, and probably even harder to get up. It sends an ache in his heart imagining Choso attempting to climb up on his own but ultimately giving up. Knowing him, he must have been scared, even in this state of self-neglect. 

Sukuna is fully aware of how it won’t work unless Choso cooperates. They are still decimeters away from reaching him. Choso takes a couple of steps towards them.

“Just go home.” Choso sounds irritated, but Sukuna can tell he is faking it. The words stab at his heart regardless. Anger mixed with worry pools up. 

“Go home?? Why would we do that?” Yuji counters. 

“Cho, come on!” Sukuna begs. Choso looks at him and then at Yuji. 

“I've burdened you enough; you two don't have to deal with this.” 

“You're not a burden,” Yuji presses. From the way they are lying, his arm touches Yujis. The kid is shaking. His whole body trembles like a leaf, and Sukuna is pretty sure it isn’t from the chilly evening. 

“You heard him!” Sukuna reassures, hoping Yuji’s words have more meaning to Choso. They usually do. 

“Choso, I’m sorry,” he hears Yuji say next to him. There is no need to look over at him to tell that he is crying. That’s new. Sukuna can’t recall ever seeing him cry. He must have when he was a baby, but he can’t get the image in his head. He holds his hand steady out for Choso, who looks at his younger brother with impossibly large eyes. “I didn’t mean what I said. I’m so sorry for saying all of that. I don’t think you are a bad brother,” he pauses to take a shaky breath. “And I don’t want you to die! I want you to come home!” 

Choso frowns deeply and dries his eyes once more. His gaze is fixed on Yuji, who is no longer looking at him, but rather down towards the ground in shame, sniffling silently. Choso takes another step, standing as close to them as he can. Sukuna damns the edge for not being lower.

“Yuji, don’t cry,” he requests quietly. His breath hitches, and the stream of tears increases. “I know I’m not a good older brother, but I want to be,” Choso hicks through the words. “I-I’m trying and I’ll try even harder,” 

“Cho!” Sukuna draws the attention of Choso back to him, feeling the urgency ticking. He opens his hand more to gesture for him to grab it, holding his breath as he waits. Choso uses his shirt collar to dry his face. They exchange a look, and Sukuna can tell he is hesitating. “Please”

He only mouths the last part. When Choso stretches his arms up, he looks like that kid again. The one who, on rare occasions, allowed himself to be picked up. Sukuna remembers how easy it used to be, just a skinny kid with wobbly legs and a shirt that rode up when you picked him up. It was a long time ago. 

As expected, Choso is freezing. The fingers that meet his are concerningly cold. Sukuna almost tips over the edge when he grabs hold of him before he can change his mind. The grip is weak, but he meets it with strength enough to even it out. He sees Yuji’s got the other hand, and it’s a relief. 

As if they were one, they both started pulling. It’s difficult. From their positions on the ground, it’s hard to get any leverage or strength required to get Choso high enough. He spots Yuji trying to get on his knees but loses his balance. Sukuna's other hand goes to him, pushes him back, and he regains control. Choso tries to brace himself with his feet against the wall, but he doesn’t seem to get a good grip. Sukuna knows him well enough to know that they won’t be able to convince Choso for a second try if this fails. 

With a grunt, he manages to scoop back and get Choso’s elbow above the edge. Yuji follows shortly after. He has to admit, the kid is strong. Without letting go, he reaches over the edge and grabs Choso under his armpit, further elevating him. 

“Yuji,” he doesn’t need to say more for Yuji to understand. He grabs hold of their brother, keeping his now, head above the edge, and with arms clawing, trying to find a grip against the ground they are on. Not fully trusting Yuji’s strength, he keeps a hand on Choso’s shoulder as he dives back down and manages to grab the belt hoops of his jeans. With one last exertion, he pulls Choso over the edge, and they all take a second to breathe.

Sukuna is the first to spring into action. He hovers over Choso, hand in his hair, trying to search for the source of the blood all over his face. He must have sustained some sort of head wound. The lack of light makes it difficult, and he damns himself for not telling Choso to pick up the flashlight before pulling him up. Now it will be difficult to get home too. 

“It’s not bleeding anymore,” Choso says flatly. Sukuna wants to see for himself. He eventually finds the spot - a small jack on top of his head. Strange how such a small tear could cause that much blood, but Sukuna only feels relief. 

“What happened?” He asks impatiently. Yuji uses the hem of his shirt to try to wipe off some blood from Choso’s face. It doesn’t help much. The blood has dried a bit, and Yuji’s effort serves mostly to miscolor his shirt. 

“I fell,” Choso confesses with shame. Sukuna can’t say much; he almost met a similar fate. 

“Are you hurt somewhere else?” He continues. Choso starts to stand up before answering. They hurry to follow. 

“Don’t think so,”

The tension between them is a bit thick. Sukuna honestly feels a bit spaced out. Like his body hasn’t caught up with the fact that Choso is alive, standing before them. Still, it’s not time yet to relax. The call with the hospital earlier gnaws at him. They had said it was urgent to bring Choso in; his levels had been that low. And now that he had lost even more blood, and probably fluid from crying, it could be very dangerous. 

“Good!” He says and pushes both of them forward in front of him. Thinking about the flashlight is a waste of time. 

“Yuji, please tell me you brought your phone.” Judging by the fact that no phone has been brought out to serve them with light, he can only guess that it’s still in their home. He didn’t mean to sound as accusatory as he probably did because Yuji quickly averts his gaze in self-loathing. 

“Okay, doesn’t matter,” He says in an attempt to mitigate. His mind feels full of thick fog. As if decisions are far away, and his brain fails to make complete sentences. Over-explaining suddenly seems too energy-consuming. In the distance, he hears the soft clashes of waves hitting the shore. 

“We need to get home as soon as possible. Walk towards the sound of the water. If we follow the water, we will get home,” Sukuna is aware that it’s a bit of a roundabout, but they can’t afford getting lost in the woods. 

Yuji takes the lead. He must have some genetic mutation that makes his night vision greater than the rest because he walks with a fast stride through the terrain. His hand trails behind for Choso to hold. Sukuna tries to study how Choso walks. If he seems uncoordinated or especially weak, anything that can be an indicator of deteriorating health.  But apart from stiff movements, which he can guess is a result of being cold for an extended period, he looks alright. Neither Sukuna nor Yuji has any clothes to offer him. The best option is to simply keep walking. 

Sukuna wonders if Choso’s current condition will prevent him from getting proper treatment. What if he has a concussion or needs stitches, and they start prioritising the wrong thing, forget that he needs a blood transfusion? Or what if they say it’s already too late? Or what if they don’t even make it back home? It’s still some distance left to cover. 

It feels heavy to breathe. Yuji and Choso push on in front of him. He had deliberately gone last to keep them in his vision, but the distance between them grew. The night seems darker and more enclosing. The steps he takes feel animated, and the will to proceed becomes secondary to the gravity pulling him down. The last thing Sukuna remembers is the rough surface of the tree he managed to grab before the dark embraces him.

He wakes up to the ground soaking his clothes. A deja vu hits him, and he blinks in the dark. It takes a moment for him to realize that he isn’t blind, but in fact surrounded by darkness. A few more seconds and he can make out the contrast between the tree tops hovering above him like spectators of his shortcomings, and the cloudy night sky. When he finally comes to his senses, he panics. 

An attempt to stand up is cut short by his feet being stuck. He kicks against the resistance, his mind racing to piece together the situation he has found himself in. 

“Ya, don’t kick me!” He hears Yuji say, gripping his leg tighter. 

“Calm down, you fainted,” Choso adds. He looks up to see them standing with each of his legs in their hand. It’s an eerie visual, and Sukuna suddenly feels very uncomfortable and self-aware. 

“Let go of me,” he tries and pulls his legs towards himself. 

“Stop, just lie there for a minute, okay?” It’s rare to hear Choso command him. Makes him feel pathetic and vulnerable. But as his head aches and spins, he is forced to comply with the words. “You’re the one who said this is what you do when someone faints,” he adds stubbornly. 

Sukuna can’t protest. He did in fact teach Choso that somewhere along the years of him having flare-ups and fainting. Keeping the feet above head height, not getting up too fast, and so on. But having his own lesson thrown back at him was humiliation. Having his two younger brothers take care of him was humiliating. And to top it all off, this is the last thing they need to waste time on right now. 

He gives himself a few more deep breaths, time ticking slower than ever before. 

“It’s okay, really,” He states, hoping he has an ounce of authority left. Reluctant hands let go of him, and he gets up on his elbows. His head throbs. Not wanting another wave of embarrassment, he takes his time getting up, making a point to present himself in a better condition than he feels. “Sorry,” he mumbles, almost to his own surprise. It’s Choso’s hand that finds its way to his shoulder. 

“It’s okay,” 

Yuji and Sukuna switch positions. They have reached the sea now. It opens up before them as a body of comfort. A source of light, a guidance, like a reassuring and steady hand to help them make the last kilometer to their home. Sukuna feels both present and dissociated. Mind empty except for the single goal of getting home. 

When they enter their street, Sukuna feels so tired that he might as well drop down and sleep on the pavement. The windows of the surrounding houses are all dark. It must be late. Their house stands out like a sore thumb; their dad must have gone around switching every damn lamp on. A mixture of solace and concern bubbles up in Sukuna. He pushes Choso up the stairs to their front door, which goes flying open, only centimeters from sending Choso into the adjacent wall. 

The look on their dad’s face is unlike anything Sukuna has seen before. Pale like a ghost, and like he has been cursed with feeling all emotions at once, creating a complete shortcut. He spots the worry, the relief, the surprise, the happiness, the sadness, everything at once. Choso is in his arms before the face reaches a singular expression. Sukuna feels the remaining of his energy drain from him like air from an inflatable toy. His job is done, their dad is here, he can take over now. He played his part. Halfway sunken to the ground, he is pulled into the hug as well. Sukuna has no idea how his dad has arms long enough to pull all three of them in at the same time. Perhaps it’s sheer willpower. 

It feels warm and safe, but he is too tired to take it all in. He hears their dad bombard them with questions. What happened? Where have you been? Are you hurt? Are you cold? Why did you leave your phones? Sukuna can only imagine what their dad thought, coming home to an empty house, no note, and all phones left. He hears something about the police, too, but it’s all too much. 

As if his body acts on its own, he pushes past the commotion, into the safety of their home. Without taking off his shoes, he stumbles into the storage room and closes the door behind him. Only then does he let everything go. He weeps like never before. Whimpers under a hand over his mouth that muffles the sound to the best of his ability. He wails until his bones rattle.

He doesn’t have the strength to look who opens the door to the small room. By the time it closes again, he is already wrapped in an embrace. Arms around him, steady and comforting in a way that makes him melt into it. His dad places a hand on the back of his head to bring him in even closer. He is held in place through the shivers and a pounding heart. An apology forms on his lips, but when unable to justify it, he lets it die again. Ultimately, his body is too tired to fight against the screaming mind.