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It was Friday evening, and Geto Suguru was in bed. He lay with his head on the pillow, staring up at the ceiling. A book was discarded face down next to him on the blankets, and the curtains shut out any light emanating from the setting sun. A dim lamp cast a small glow over the blankets.
He ignored the persistent buzzing of his phone, as notifications rolled in from the combination Year 1 and 2 group chat. The others were no doubt scheming to find some sort of liquor and a place to indulge away from the eyes of Jujutsu High staff. Nothing sounded worse to Geto- a few hours ago, after coming back from classes and climbing into bed, he had sent a quick “not feeling well. staying in tonight” text, and put his phone face down on the nightstand.
This routine had been commonplace for him for the last few months. Barely making it through the day, and coming back to his room alone to lay in the dark and think of nothing. He knew it had been confusing to his Year 2 classmates- Gojo Satoru and Shoko Ieiri, but he didn’t have the energy to explain to them what was going on. Besides, they wouldn’t understand. Geto himself didn’t exactly know why he’d descended into such a dark spiral, but the events of August certainly had contributed- the death of Riko Amanai, the girl he had been charged to protect, and the horrible, horrible day where he had thought he’d lost Gojo as well. He felt a shudder go down his spine as he recalled Gojo, covered in his own blood, holding Riko’s dead body. At that moment, Geto had barely recognized his best friend. The person he knew by smell, touch, and by sound.
Geto turned onto his side, staring at the wall that his bed pressed up against. He pulled the blankets up to his chin and closed his eyes. August had changed everything. He was still reeling from the trauma of it all, and it felt like he was being left behind by everyone- since Gojo had discovered an untapped power, he had been assigned higher level missions by Jujutsu High Staff, and Shoko had thrown herself into her studies with rigor. That left Geto, alone, to absorb cursed spirit after cursed spirit. The horrific taste, something he used to be able to wash away, felt like it was stuck in his mouth, coating his taste buds.
Geto’s spiraling thoughts were interrupted by a soft tap on the door. He turned his head to look and spoke horsley to the empty room.
“Come in,” he said.
The door cracked open, and Gojo poked his head in. “Hey, Suguru, ” he said. “Just wanted to check on ya.”
Geto sat up in bed, and rubbed his eyes. “You can come in,” he mumbled, his voice scratchy from disuse.
Gojo hesitated in the door frame. “Are you feeling any better? Shoko got her hands on some nasty stuff, and you know how funny it is when Nanami and Haibara get wasted. They hang all over each other. Just didn’t want you to miss anything.”
Geto could sense the worry in the other boy’s voice. He sighed, his shoulders hunching, and he looked down. “I don’t know. I’m just not feeling it today, I guess. Tell everyone I’m sorry I can’t make it.”
Gojo crossed the room, and sat on the edge of the bed. Geto glanced up, and they looked into each other’s eyes. He watched as Gojo’s brow furrowed, in something that could only be stubbornness.
“Okay, I’m staying with you tonight,” he said. “We don’t have to do anything. Hell, we can just lay here for all I care.”
Geto shook his head. “You don’t have to do that. I’m fine. I’m just tired.”
“Nope, bullshit,” Gojo said. “I’m telling everyone I’m not making it.”
Gojo took out his phone and tapped a quick message to the group chat. He tucked his phone into his pocket and then motioned for Geto to scoot over and make room. The other boy obliged, and Gojo slid under the blankets, lifting his arm up to allow Geto to slide his head onto his chest. They fit together perfectly. The two had spent many a night in each other's rooms, and the position was natural for them. For a minute, they lay together, the only sound their soft breathing. Then, Gojo spoke.
“Is it me?” he asked.
Geto looked up and saw the other boy staring hard at the ceiling. “What do you mean?”
“Things have been so…” Gojo searched for the word. “Off. Since August. I feel like we’ve been ships in the night. I… well, I miss you.”
Geto reached his hand up and pulled Gojo’s face to his. The two kissed, and Geto felt the tension leave Gojo’s body. They pulled away from each other, and rested their foreheads together.
“It’s not you,” Geto said. “I’ve been in a funk. This helps.”
Gojo chuckled, and they kissed again, longer this time. Eventually, Gojo broke away for air and nestled his face into Geto’s long black hair. He reached up to twirl a piece around his finger, and Geto nestled into the crook of his neck.
“This is way better than drinking whatever jet fuel Shoko found,” muttered Gojo, and Geto giggled. He stopped abruptly, and tried to think of the last time he had laughed. He couldn’t remember.
“I am kind of tired,” Geto said. “Do you mind if I sleep?”
Gojo shook his head. “Whatever you want. As long as I’m with you, I’m happy.”
Geto turned his face into Gojo’s shirt and tried not to cry. He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve any of this. The things he’d seen, the things he’d done… Everyone would just be better off if he was gone. But, those were thoughts for another day. Held in the arms of the boy he loved, Geto Suguru drifted to sleep.