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For the second day in row, Satoru woke up to silence. It wasn’t that the school was always brimming with people, but he usually at least had Suguru.
UGH! Suguru and his stupid face and his stupid hair ties and fancy conditioners. He had no regard for leaving Satoru all alone by himself for three whole days. There were only so many hours that could be occupied with candy and games, especially with his sporadic sleep schedule. Satoru still did not understand why Suguru had volunteered (volunteered!!) to go and help the geezers at Kyoto with whatever fuck up they had caused this time. He hadn’t even thought that his so-called best friend (though Suguru had not yet conceded to the label, whatever) was serious about leaving him for three days. If he had, Satoru would have been more proactive in deterring him and maybe even sucked it up and gone along. But Suguru had gone with his stupid pretty face and solemn expression all the way to Kyoto. What was even so great about Kyoto? Kyoto did not have Gojo Satoru or Geto Suguru.
Usually, in their brief separations in the past six months, he had someone or the other to content with. But this time he wasn’t even left with Shoko for company, though that was more on Yaga and whichever old noodle that was in charge in Kyoto at that moment. Ugh. Not even Shoko. (He should try not to say that in front of her.) So, a first-grade curse terrorized a few sorcerers and injured them. It happened all the fucking time. He had no idea why he had to be deprived of his Suguru just because they could not do their jobs.
It had been thirty-nine hours since they had left, with all too short goodbyes to a disoriented Satoru. There were thirty-three excruciatingly long hours before his return. On a positive note, the absence of both his classmates meant that class was practically cancelled. (Yaga still tried to get him to do laps around the school ground. Keeping up his stamina or whatever). He briefly considered if he should let the clan know that his education was being disrupted by the incompetence of the Kyoto Jujutsu High and have them demand the return of Suguru (and Shoko, he wasn’t totally removing her from the equation) to Tokyo. But in the end decided against it, contemplating possible reactions from Suguru, from outrage to indignity. He did not want their fated reunion to be coloured by a spat. There was still time left for all that.
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Once he had exhausted all avenues of action and gone through various ones that could have Suguru return sooner and decided that all of them were futile, he decided to resign to his fate of being a loveless teenager. That meant he had to look at the next best thing. Sending a million texts and annoying Suguru into answering. He dug his phone out of the pile of blankets that were working diligently to combat the winter chill and opened his text chain with Suguru. He had sent the last message four hours ago, when he had come to a strikingly similar solution to his predicament and had received no reply in return.
No worries. Suguru would not mind a few (or several, but who was counting) more messages.
Satoru: Has the half-assedness of Kyoto rubbed off on you?
Satoru: We would have been done in half this time if I was there
Unfortunately, Suguru did not immediately jump at the sound of the notification (the theme song of Digimon Adventure 2 that Satoru had programmed into it). The bastard probably had notifications off while working or some other bullshit. Now that his brilliant, albeit poorly received, strategy of annoying Suguru into replying had not worked after the eighth trial, he had to consider other options. Drastic measures had to be taken or else, he would have to be deprived of Suguru, he checked his phone for the time, for eighteen more hours.
Resigning to his fate was not part of Satoru’s repertoire, therefore drastic measures it had to be. He made his way to Yaga’s office with a mixture of elation and irritation, the former at his brilliant idea and the latter for, well, Kyoto. Yaga was probably only just irritated at this time of the day and was likely not in any mood to entertain Satoru’s ideas but this one was way better than others. He, Gojo Satoru, was about to selflessly volunteer his time.
“No,” the geezer croaked once he had heard Satoru’s, again brilliant and selfless, plan.
“But Sensei, did you not hear what I had to say?” He tried to retort. “Are you going deaf in your old age?” Oops, that was not going to do him any favours.
“Satoru, maybe you should be the one concerned with hearing loss, as you seem to have not heard my answer, which is no.” Yaga had to go and ruin another one of his plans.
“But I can take the shinkansen and be there in a few hours. They wouldn’t have as much trouble with me there. Why are you treating me like a toddler? I know Suguru’s better than those old farts, but we’ll be double better together. Actually, we are the best. Don’t tell Suguru I said that though. So I go to Kyoto, blast all the curses, and come back with Suguru in a few hours. What’s so bad about that?” He tried to explain.
Yaga’s face twitched and he sighed. Satoru observed his sensei in the small light and could see a few grey hairs coming in, maybe he was actually getting old. He had no idea how old Yaga really was (Fifty, maybe?). “I will not attempt to make sense of your incoherent ramblings, Satoru. You are not to go to Kyoto. They have enough resources to take care of the matter.”
“Well, if they could take care of it by themselves, then why did Suguru have to go?” This had to be a reasonable question even for Yaga.
“That was two days ago, the situation is different now. You are not needed.” Yaga replied, trying to end the conversation.
“But, Suguru-”
“You are dismissed.” That one did manage to end the conversation, even beyond Satoru’s reach.
Satoru slumped back into the dorms and his bed, thoroughly convinced that Yaga was going senile. He was left with very few options at the moment. There still existed the possibility of Kyoto, just without Yaga’s permission and succeeded by whatever punishment his sensei could conjure. It would not end with a lecture. A lecture would have been acceptable. Yaga would do something like separate him from Suguru, now that he knew his motivations for wanting to go to Kyoto (He should have probably kept that to himself).
Suguru would know what to do in these situations. He could come up with some stupid idea with just the right amount of defensibility. He missed Suguru. He buried himself further into his sheets and inhaled, noting a distinct scent of camellias. The smell of Suguru’s stupid shampoo engulfed him, pulling him deeper into his privation. Since when has Gojo Satoru come to crave someone else? How was he so tied to someone else so intrinsically that his absence would make the entire world bleed blue? He didn’t want to ponder too deeply and stumble upon some realization too candid. He had all the time in the world for that. They had all the time in the world for that. For now, he just needed Suguru and his Suguru answered his wishes, albeit through a text message.
Suguru: Don’t be a dickhead. We’re finishing up here. Will be back tomorrow.
He smiled at his phone. It was a few more hours before he could be fully gratified but the realization that it was coming soon was enough for now. He made his way out of his room and into the one next door, which Suguru never bothered to lock and threw himself on top of the bed. He was met with a sea of camellia blossoms, almost overwhelming for his senses. Strong love and strength against all odds, so fitting for Suguru. He tried not to think about other meanings and steered clear of the sudden death that awaited them. There were better things to think about. He cocooned himself in the sanctuary of Suguru’s strength and love, and awaited the next dawn.
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Satoru did not see the next dawn as he had hoped. Instead, he was greeted by a travel-worn and pissed-off Suguru who wanted to know what he was doing in his bed and did not appreciate it when he pulled him into the sheets.