Work Text:
Reuniting with Gojo-sensei is a frail, almost bittersweet thing. A thing that is not just a thing, but the colors of grief and the taste of hope both mixed together to serve as a reminder that humans are not infallible—even the great Gojo Satoru.
“Sensei!” Yuuji still exclaims, that hope ripped from his mouth, an arm stretched out from his lungs, reaching out and grabbing at the nearest point of contact he can muster. Yuuji is hugging Gojo, and Gojo is hugging him back, his breaths warm against his neck. Yuuji forces the hand back into his stomach, not wanting to cry. “I missed you.”
It’s true; Yuuji has missed Gojo Satoru in a way that he doesn’t think anybody else has. Whenever others talked about him, they spoke of how inconvenient it was that his power was gone, how they couldn’t move forward without him, how necessary he was to the Plan of it all.
Yuuji just missed the way Gojo would crack up over his own jokes, as if he were the funniest person alive. He missed the way he pretended to think long and hard about whether or not to give into one of Yuuji’s demands. He missed the way Gojo sometimes looked at him, as if he were something precious and something to be protected.
He didn’t have many people he was close to, growing up. No real friends and a dying grandfather who Yuuji knew was only biding his time, trying to stay alive as long as he could, all for Yuuji, even if the man never said so in explicit words.
Gojo Satoru saw him immediately for who he is.
Yuuji thinks he’s been able to do the same.
“Ah,” Gojo breathes, an exhale of air that has Yuuji shivering. “You don’t smell good.”
Yuuji laughs, and there are the tears pricking at his eyes, making everything all the more real. Gojo is alive. He’s alive and he’s free. He’s no longer stolen from them all, from Yuuji. He’s here.
“I haven’t been able to shower in a while, Sensei,” he complains a bit, smiling against Gojo’s chest. “What with all the murder and fighting and all.”
Gojo pulls back then, grabbing one of Yuuji’s cheeks and pulling lightly at it. His hand is perfectly smooth; Yuuji’s known this since the very first day that they met. “You’re still as cute as ever, of course! Though…” He traces Yuuji’s scar with a finger. “You haven’t been as protected as I would have liked.”
Yuuji doesn’t reply, his heartbeat racing. All of a sudden, everything that’s happened comes crashing down again. The deaths, the screams, the pain. This is real. This is real. Gojo’s finger lightly brushes away some of Yuuji’s tears. His smile is tight, forced.
“I’m sorry, Yuuji.”
Yuuji just nods. He knows what Gojo’s apologizing for, even if Yuuji doesn’t actually think it’s his fault.
Gojo pulls away fully then, stepping so he’s standing beside Yuuji, and then his arms are thrown over Yuuji’s shoulder, tucking him against his body, a body that Yuuji can feel, can touch. It reminds him of the days back when Yuuji was hidden away from the world—the days where Gojo let himself touch Yuuji as much as they both wanted.
“Come on,” Gojo replies, nodding towards the others indiscreetly watching them. “I’m assuming they’ll want to run their mouths off, whining about something like always.” He turns to look down at Yuuji; his smile is real this time. Yuuji’s breath catches. “Right, Yuuji?”
Yuuji laughs. He feels safe like this. It’s the first time he’s felt safe in a long time.
“Yuuta missed you,” he says simply. Gojo’s lips quirk. Yuuji looks back at them. They’re getting antsy, even he can tell. “I’m glad you’re back, Sensei.”
Gojo squeezes him closer. “Me too.”
Reuniting with Gojo-sensei is a strong, indescribably contented thing. A thing that is not just a thing, but the touch of love and the taste of relief both mixed together to serve as a reminder that good wins, in the end—even for the great Gojo Satoru.
When the curses of the world around them disappear into nothing, Gojo is already hugging him, face pressed into the side of the neck as he presses a lingering kiss against Yuuji’s skin.
Yuuji feels like his love is going to spill out of his chest, the hands inside cupping his heart tenderly, a moment in time that Yuuji is going to hold onto forever.
“I missed you, Sensei,” he says, voice wrecked with emotion. He’s been watching Gojo for what has felt like hours now, but the fear of losing him made it seem like it’d be the last time he’d ever get to see him here and alive.
Gojo laughs softly, a sound that’s reserved just for him, Yuuji knows. “You still don’t smell that great, Yuuji. We should really shower, huh?”
Yuuji snorts, pulling back to press after pressing a soft kiss against Gojo’s lips. Gojo’s smile widens against him and Yuuji thinks he could melt right here in his arms. “We have all the time in the world now, Gojo-sensei. Do you think we could shower in a fancy hotel? I want to lounge around in a bathrobe.”
Gojo’s eyes sparkle with amusement. “Ah… the perils of a poorer youth… thinking that hotel bathrobes are fancy.”
“We can’t all be rich like you, Sensei!”
“Didn’t I tell you a long time ago that anything mine is yours?”
“You said that after I asked for some of your popcorn.”
“And I meant it!” He kisses Yuuji again, a gentle, crooning type of kiss. “I always meant it with you, Yuuji. Don’t you know that?”
Yuuji does know. He—
He didn’t have many people he was close to, growing up. No real friends and a dying grandfather who Yuuji knew was only biding his time, trying to stay alive as long as he could, all for Yuuji, even if the man never said so in explicit words.
But Gojo Satoru saw him immediately for who he is.
Yuuji knows he’s been able to do the same.
He knows.