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Nanami sits in his armchair in the living room, half reading a book. He’s only half reading because of the tall, white-haired mess of a man who’s been pacing around the house anxiously all day, doing a little bit of this and that and never actually settling down. It’s fine, though. Nanami knew to expect this, as unfortunate as that fact is with its implications.
Finally, Gojo sits down on the couch, even if he’s still bouncing a leg nervously. Nanami doesn’t say anything. Gojo will speak when he’s ready, he knows. It takes a while. Gojo changes his position probably a dozen times. He looks like he’s on the verge of saying something more than a couple times before he actually opens his mouth.
“Y’know, I’m kinda antsy today. I’m not sure why,” Gojo says, aiming for a casual tone. Nanami knows him well enough to see right through it. Gojo’s been a lot better about understanding himself since he started therapy, and now it makes him anxious to have a feeling he can’t pinpoint the source of. Nanami supposes it makes sense. Gojo’s always been a bit of a control freak.
“You’re going to see your family this weekend,” Nanami reminds him. It’s all the explanation the blonde needs, since he’s seen his partner get like this every single time a visit home is coming up. It doesn’t matter how much Gojo insists that he had a perfectly fine and normal childhood and was actually fortunate to be born into a wealthy household. The spike in anxiety before and the vulnerability after each encounter with his family tell Nanami all he needs to know.
“Uh, yeah. I am. Why’re you bringing that up now?” Gojo asks, confused about the apparent change in topic. Nanami frowns and sighs. He knows Gojo isn’t being deliberately obtuse. If there’s one thing the man is good at, it’s putting distance between himself and anything he doesn’t want to deal with. They’ve already had to unpack more than a few issues that Gojo was deeply enough in denial about that he genuinely thought that there was no issue.
“Because that’s why. You always get anxious before you have to interact with your family, and you always get insecure and depressed afterwards,” Nanami explains. It still sometimes shocks him how many seemingly obvious things he has to explain to his partner. It’s not like Gojo is stupid or anything, but he’s certainly excellent at denial. He’s always been adamant that he’s perfect, never struggles, never makes mistakes and is never affected by anything. It took Nanami a considerable amount of time and effort to get him to understand that he isn’t.
“I do? I don’t think I do. I don’t remember doing that,” Gojo denies, shaking his head. His brows are furrowed in confusion. Nanami’s heart breaks a little bit for his partner again. Gojo’s come so far, and he still has such a long way to go. Nanami’s always told him his family isn’t normal, but Gojo has always argued against it.
It’s like he has a set list of excuses he always prattles off. They’ve paid for his every need and want. They’ve never meant to do him any harm. They did their best. They’ve changed. They’re trying to mend their relationships, so the least Gojo can do is meet them halfway. At first, Nanami didn’t think any of it, but with time it’s become clear just how unable Gojo is of blaming his family for anything. It worries him.
“Well, you don’t remember a lot of things. Trust me, you do,” Nanami assures, finally setting his book down. This conversation requires an outward showing of sincerity. Gojo is and always has been stubborn. That’s why Nanami knows that he has to be as stable and unbending as a rock if he wants to have any hope of getting his partner to understand anything. Especially anything that he doesn’t want to understand.
“That’s not very nice. You can be forgetful, too, y’know,” Gojo argues back. He sounds a bit whiny, like an insulted child. Nanami found that habit annoying at first, but he’s since understood that it’s the only way Gojo knows how to voice his hurt. He’s never been able to show his emotions very genuinely. They’re working on it.
“Yes, I can. But that’s not what I mean. You know very well how memory is linked to mental illness. You have a harder time remembering times when you’re doing unwell, like right now,” Nanami explains patiently. None of this is new information to Gojo, either, but whatever cocktail of trauma and mental illness he has does seem to prevent him from connecting the dots of his symptoms, no matter how smart he is when it comes to anything but his personal issues.
“Well… fine, I’ll give you that, I guess,” Gojo mutters, pouting. He doesn’t really have much more to say. Nanami expected that. He’s seen Gojo’s blind trust in his family starting to falter for the past months and years, but it’s a slow process, and it’s not one that can be hurried along. If Nanami pushes too hard and insists that Gojo’s childhood wasn’t as great as he likes to think, it’ll only end with Gojo pushing him away. Instead, he lets the white-haired man know what he thinks and allows him to slowly come to his own conclusions. Nanami can see the cogs turning in his head, trying to fit the information he just got into his view of his family.
“You know I’m a call away at any time,” Nanami says. It’s really the most he can do at this point. Gojo isn’t ready to talk about this, let alone do like Nanami really wishes he would do and just stay home. But Nanami can make sure that Gojo knows he has someone safe to come back to when he needs it.
Gojo nods absentmindedly. He’s likely lost in thought trying to process yet another piece of the puzzle that his childhood is. Nanami wishes he could speed the process up for him more.
***
It’s Saturday night, late enough in the evening that Nanami’s winding down in his armchair with a book, done with the day’s errands and chores. He’s periodically messaged Gojo to ask how he’s doing, but the responses have been curt. It’s not exactly abnormal, since Gojo’s with his family, but it isn’t a good sign, either. At least he’ll be back tomorrow, and then he can start recovering again.
His phone buzzes. He’s in the middle of a chapter, and it’s a gripping one, too, so he briefly considers not checking it. Gojo doesn’t really text him first when he’s visiting home, so it’s probably someone else, someone he can ignore. Something nags at him, though, and he decides to check regardless.
Satoru: “Get me out of here.” Sent 8:22 P.M.
It’s all he needs to see before he’s already up and walking to the entrance, barely bothering to grab a coat on his way out.
Ken-chan <3: “ETA 9:15 P.M. Call me if you need something earlier.” Sent 8:23 P.M.
Nanami’s car radio has Bluetooth, so he can take calls using that, even if he can’t text while driving. He may be worried about Gojo, but he’d rather not take the risk of crashing and delaying his arrival. He’s always been level-headed, and right now he is a man on a mission: to come to Gojo Satoru’s rescue as efficiently as he can.
Nanami drives above the speed limit, but not far enough above to get stopped and ticketed. He chooses the routes he thinks will be least busy at this time, even though the roads should be relatively empty in the evening. When he pulls up in front of the Gojo estate, the car clock reads 9:13 P.M. and there’s a lanky, pale man already waiting in the driveway.
Gojo gets in the car looking like a wet rag, and it hasn’t even been raining. He chucks his bag in the back seat and gets his seatbelt on. He doesn’t even look at Nanami. His walls are up, it’s easy to tell. Nanami had expected as much. Gojo is always different for a few days after he comes home from visiting his parents. It’s like he doesn’t dare be his usual self, like he’s constantly afraid that someone will witness him experiencing a human emotion or being anything less than perfectly normal.
Nanami doesn’t ask. He knows now isn’t the time. He just gets back on the road to bring them home. They’ll have plenty of time to talk about it once Gojo is ready to do so, but right now he needs a safe place and some time to process. It’s hard to not be overbearing, with how worried Gojo’s empty expression makes Nanami. It’s worse than if he was openly sobbing. That’d mean he’d be willing to let Nanami comfort him, at least.
The drive home is silent. When Nanami asks if Gojo needs food or a shower, anything at all, he only gets nods and shakes of a white-haired head in response. Gojo isn’t even making eye contact. Nanami hasn’t seen him this bad in a long time. It hurts, but at least there’s the silver lining of knowing that this has to be bad enough for Gojo to start accepting that maybe his family situation isn’t that good after all. It’s bad now, but Nanami hopes it’ll lead to healing, eventually.
When they finally get into bed, Gojo curls up on his own side of it like he’s afraid of taking up space. He has the duvet tucked up to his ears, hiding like a scared child. It breaks Nanami’s heart to see. There’s only one thing to be done, really. Nanami climbs into the bed with him and scoots closer until he can lift the duvet enough to get under it, too. He embraces his partner, spooning him. Gojo’s always been very tactile. Nanami hopes he can instill some sense of safety and comfort into his touch. Gojo lets out a shuddering breath. It’s like he’s been holding it in all day.
“Thank you, Kento,” Gojo whispers. There’s so much more than just gratitude wrapped in those words. I love you. Please don’t let go. I need you. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you. Marry me. Let me take your family name so I can be rid of mine. I love you.
Nanami may not audibly hear all of it, but he knows what Gojo means well enough. He gives his partner a comforting squeeze and kisses his neck.
“Of course, Satoru,” Nanami replies, just as quietly. I love you. I want to protect you. Let me keep you safe. I’m so glad you asked for help. Please let me hold you and never let go. Marry me. Take my family name so you can finally be rid of that burden you carry. I love you.