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Gojo isn’t usually one for photography. That’s more Yuji’s hobby; the kid is always lugging around a chunky, beat up old Polaroid to all their outings. Extracurriculars, Gojo calls them. Kento never calls him out on it, but they both know there’s not much educational value in dropping tens of thousands of yen on mall trips or taking his students on a sweets tour of Tokyo. Seeing how invested the kid is in photography, Gojo decided to surprise Yuji with a high-quality APS-C Fujifilm. For a solid week Yuji refused to even remove it from its casing, treating it with all the reverence of an idol, but today Gojo’s lured the first and second-years on a day trip that has too much potential for the kid to pass up taking some shots: a beach trip. Except, apparently Yuji isn’t the only one who’s going to be taking photos while they’re out.
“A gift?” Gojo says, tilting Yuji’s old battered Polaroid side to side before his eyes. He grins teasingly down at his newest student. “Trying to pawn off your old junk on me, eh?” He wipes away a fake tear. “I thought you would have treasured your poor sensei more than that!”
“Nuh-uh!” Yuji protests immediately, eyes wide and guileless. Ah, he’s just too easy to tease. He reminds Gojo of Haibara; no wonder Kento took such a liking to the kid. “It’s just that this one still works! And I thought you might like it, Gojo-sensei.” Gojo tilts his head to the side.
“Why?” he asks, and this time he’s genuinely curious.
“Well, I saw all those scrapbooked photos when I was staying with you,” Yuji explains, and Gojo’s stomach knots up. His student, oblivious to the weight he’s just dropped on his sensei’s shoulders, continues on cheerfully. “But you don’t have anything recent! So I thought you might need a camera.”
It’s impossible to be upset with Yuji for rummaging through his things. He’s a kid; kids are naturally curious. That’s nothing Gojo can fault him for. Knowing Yuji, he probably wasn’t even trying to snoop, he just stumbled across Gojo’s old highschool paraphernalia while searching for something in the closet. But none of that stops the dull ache in his stomach from rising up and forming a lump in his throat.
None of the photos in that album are even his. They’re Shoko’s; when they were younger, she’d gone through a photography phase of her own. Not as intense as Yuji’s, but Gojo remembers a number of times when she shoved a camera in his and Suguru’s faces to capture them doing something innocuous, or beckoned them over for a group selfie. It was Shoko who eventually made the scrapbook towards the end of their first semester of second year. Towards the back of the book, there are even some scattered photos of Kento and Haibara after they both started at Jujutsu Tech. Kento, of course, is usually scowling, but Haibara is sunny as ever in every single photo.
Was. Was sunny as ever. Fuck.
“How thoughtful,” Gojo says, trying to match his student’s cheer and swallowing down the gravel that enters his voice. “Thank you, Yuji-kun. I guess I’ll have to take some pictures, huh?”
And Yuji beams, so easily excited, that there’s no way Gojo can look that cute little face in the eyes after this trip and not have something to show from that cheap Polaroid. If only he wasn’t such a good teacher…
“Nanamin!” Gojo turns. Yuji is bounding off back to the van now, where Kento is finally emerging from the driver’s side door. He’s dressed not in a blue button down and cream suit for once, but in casual clothes— Gojo’s clothes, his ultra-soft gray long sleeve and a black scarf. It’s appropriate for how windy it is at the beach today, something Nobara clearly didn’t plan for judging by the way she shrieks her displeasure upon getting out of the van in nothing but leggings and a tank top. The sight of Kento wearing his clothes still makes Gojo’s mouth dry up, and they’ve been dating for nearly six months at this point. Megumi would argue they were technically dating for longer, something about them spending a “weird amount” of time together when Megumi was little. Whatever. The kid can’t even work up the courage to ask Yuji out even though they’ve been making moon-eyes at each other forever, so what does he know?
“Did you put on sunscreen, Itadori-kun?” Kento asks. Yuji’s eyes go round.
“Oh! I must’ve forgot.” He scratches the back of his head as he, hilariously, checks his pockets, all of which are too small to hold a bottle of sunscreen. Kento purses his lips while Gojo chuckles to himself. Luckily, his darling Megumi comes to Yuji’s rescue seconds later.
“I’ve got it, Nanami-san,” Megumi sighs, and tugs Yuji over by the back of his hoodie. He shushes the boy’s startled squawk with commands to hold still and starts applying sunscreen for Yuji. He only blushes a little. Gojo is so proud.
“Oh, yuck,” Nobara says, disgust coloring her face at the display. She turns up her nose and swivels on her heels. “Maki-senpai! Let’s get away from these idiots. Come on!”
Gojo chuckles again as he watches his student rush down the dune to meet the second-years. Maki takes one look at Nobara’s outfit and the wind whipping her hair into her face, tuts, and takes off her jacket to give to the first year.
“She’s just as bad, and she doesn’t even realize it,” Gojo says gleefully to his boyfriend as Kento comes to stand beside him. Kento frowns at the pair down below.
“She’s not going to be happy when she finds out about Okkotsu-kun,” he warns.
“Eh, it’s just a high school crush. She’ll grow out of it once she knows,” Gojo says, waving off Kento’s concern. His partner raises an eyebrow.
“We didn’t,” Kento says, and Gojo grins.
“Ah, well, who could resist me? That’s different,” he quips, and Kento huffs out a short, sharp breath through his nose that Gojo recognizes as the Nanami-Kento approximation of a laugh.
“Of course,” he says sardonically, and then notices the camera in Gojo’s hand. “What’s that?”
“Oh,” Gojo says, trying to be nonchalant. He doesn’t want to bring up old memories. Not today. “Yuji gave it to me! Guess I’m his favorite sensei, huh?”
Kento leans over to take a closer look at the chipped paint and dented plastic. “Yes, saddling you with his hand-me-downs. I can clearly see how much he respects you.”
Gojo sticks out his tongue. Just as he begins to prepare a retort, a gust of air whips by them. Yuji dashes down the dune in an excited blur, and Megumi speeds after him with a curse. Gojo and Kento watch in silent amusement as Yuji ends up tumbling his way down the rest of the dune after slipping on sand. Megumi, already predicting this, stops in his tracks and just watches. From her spot with the second-years, Nobara points and laughs. Inspiration strikes, and Gojo takes out his new-old camera.
“Yuji wants me to take some photos,” he explains to Kento as he lines up a shot and snaps a picture of Yuji’s crumpled form at the bottom of the dune. His partner’s disapproving stare bores into the side of his head, and he grins into the camera. “What kind of a guy would I be if I didn’t put my precious student in the scrapbook?”
Roughly an hour later, Gojo and Kento find themselves walking along the shoreline several dozen meters away from the students. Kento keeps a watchful eye on them out of the corner of his vision—more specifically, on Maki and Toge, who are sailing off into the sunset atop a floating Panda.
“Are you sure they’re fine?” he says. Gojo shrugs.
“Eh,” he says. “Panda’s a good swimmer. They’re kids; they’re just having fun.” Kento looks back at the second-years doubtfully. They are rapidly becoming nothing more than a speck on the horizon, and for a moment Gojo wonders if they’re actually trying to make a break for it. “I’ll warp over and grab them if they get into trouble,” he amends, and the reassurance convinces Kento to finally tear his gaze away from the students. Gojo watches Kento’s eyes slip shut as the man takes a sip of coffee, a warmth spreading in his chest at the appreciative hum that follows. Gojo follows suit and gulps down a mouthful of his own drink, hot chocolate. He doesn’t miss Kento eyeing him from the side. “What?” he asks. “Something on my face?”
“Do you like it?” Kento asks, and fondness bubbles up in Gojo as he realizes Kento was trying to see whether he likes the drink he bought him. He laughs softly.
“Of course I do,” he says, and takes another drink to prove it. He must have a whipped cream mustache, because Kento snorts when he grins at him. The rare display of amusement at his antics just provokes Gojo to grin wider.
The weather isn’t as bad as the weather app on Gojo’s phone predicted it to be. Not that Gojo expected anything less; were a storm actually coming, he’d be able to sense the zap of ozone on the air. It’s just windy today, that’s all, and the sun is finally beginning to emerge from behind the clouds. The breeze is crisp, its chill blocked by Gojo’s hoodie rather than Infinity. He’s been taking it down around Kento more and more. Somewhere in the back of his brain he knows he should worry about this becoming a habit, but he’s feeling too peaceful in the autumn breeze to bother with that now.
“We should take one with the kids,” Gojo decides aloud. Kento turns to Gojo in askance, who responds by shaking the Polaroid above his head. Kento’s gaze softens, and Gojo drinks up his approval like liquid gold. He wastes no time in hollering down the beach at his first years. Nobara has made a very impressive sand-Yuji while Megumi sits a meter or so away reading a book.
“Picture time!” he sings over the tide, and Yuji jumps out from the mountain of sand in an excitable flurry, showering Nobara in sand in the process. Gojo laughs at the sight of the fuming girl shoving sand down the back of Yuji’s hoodie. Megumi scoots away slowly and carefully, wary gaze fixed on his two friends.
Gojo looks out to the sea. A quick scan finds Maki and Toge still paddling around atop Panda’s belly as the cursed corpse suns himself in a starfish position. None of them appear to have heard him.
Gojo grins wickedly. Beside him, Kento sighs.
“Don’t scare them,” he warns, but it’s too late. Gojo is already gone, and a second later he’s treated to the sight of Maki screaming at him from the water, hair soaking wet, as he hovers over his second-years and laughs.
The days don’t stretch as long anymore now that September is coming to an end. It feels like a blink from the time they arrived in the van to the setting of the sun, and Gojo can’t help the familiar bitterness that wells up on the back of his tongue at the sight. Time is never on any sorcerer’s side, least of all his. Tomorrow there will be classes, and missions, and meetings with the shitty Higher-Ups. The brief window of time he gave his students to enjoy their youth is rapidly coming to a close.
Sensing his bad mood, Kento brushes his thumb across the backs of Gojo’s knuckles. “Stop that,” he mutters. In a wry imitation of Gojo’s own teasing, he continues: “You’ll give yourself gray hairs.”
“I think I already passed that point, Kento,” Gojo retorts, his attention still half on his students. They’re all sitting in a circle around a campfire made from driftwood, digging into the stash of s’mores ingredients Gojo snuck into the van. He doesn’t want to spoil their mood by telling them they only have til the sun goes down to finish their treats. Curses are always more active in the dark, and he can’t take any risks with his kids.
Kento studies him. Backlit by the red of the sinking sun, his hair looks like spun gold. “Satoru,” he says, and his voice is slow and deliberate in a way that finally pulls Gojo’s full attention onto him. Kento’s expression betrays nothing, steady as ever, but Gojo knows him well enough to parse out the kindness hidden between the lines. “They had fun, today. You did well.”
“What about you?” Gojo asks, unable to help himself. “Did you have fun?”
Kento smiles, one of his rare small ones that relaxes the sharp cut of his jaw. “I enjoyed myself, yes.”
It’s such a bland answer, typical of Kento, but for some reason the sincerity behind it does something funny to Gojo’s insides.
“Good,” he says, and looks back out to the horizon. The whole sky is painted with molten lava and pooling sunlight, a watercolor of crimson, orange, and ochre against the backdrop of the iron sea. “I’ll have to remember that for when we make the trip again. Y’know, in a year or so.” He tries to make it into a joke, but his irritation must be audible because Kento gives him a look.
“It’s not like you to be the pessimist out of the two of us,” Kento remarks. He turns to watch the sunset, too. Underneath the clouds they can see the kids illuminated by the flickering embers of their campfire. They’ve successfully figured out how to engineer s’mores, and are going through Gojo’s bags of chocolate and marshmallows fast enough that he applauds himself for getting double the supplies needed and hiding the rest in the van. “I’m sure you’ll find a way to come back here before then. That or take the students out for something more absurd.”
“Absurd?” Gojo tuts. “This is education.”
“On?”
“Why, the art of relaxation, of course. You could use some, Nanamin.”
“Like you couldn’t,” Kento shoots back, and Gojo hums.
“I’m here too, aren’t I?”
“And yet,” Kento says, “you’re spending it brooding over the time you won’t have in the future instead of enjoying the time you do have here.”
Gojo sucks on his teeth. “Damn it,” he groans. “Why did you have to go and say that?” Kento looks to him.
“Excuse me?” he says, sounding a bit annoyed. The familiar furrow between his brows makes a reappearance. Gojo takes pride in the thought that he is largely responsible for its creation.
“See, it’s annoying when you’re right more than me, Kento,” Gojo whines. “No way I can let you wife me up one day if it’s gonna be like this. You have to let me win sometimes.”
It’s a gamble, declaring his hopes out loud like this, so he wraps it up in a joke. Either Kento will skate right by it, or they’ll be having a long, uncomfortably feely conversation later, and Gojo doesn’t think he wants either. But instead, Kento starts, eyes widening… and then throws his head back and starts to laugh.
Gojo is enraptured. All the worry lines on Kento’s stern face disappear, that crinkle between his brows replaced with smile lines by his eyes, which squeeze shut against the force of his mirth. His teeth glint, and he appears half a decade younger, unburdened in a way Gojo has never seen him. It’s the first time he’s seen him laugh like this. Over a decade of knowing each other, and the first time he’s seen it is because of him.
It isn’t a conscious thought to take out Yuji’s old Polaroid and hold it to the sun, to where its last rays frame Kento’s laughing face. Gojo snaps the photo and instantly feels heat rush to his cheeks at the sheer cheesiness of it. But watching the photo eject from the side of the camera to begin developing and knowing that he’ll now have a piece of this enshrined forever makes it impossible to regret it.
Kento’s eyes slide open barely a second after Gojo takes the photo. His laughter fades into mild confusion. Then his gaze settles on the Polaroid, and to Gojo’s delight, a dark blush dusts the tips of Kento’s ears.
“What was that for?” Kento says, the hint of laughter still audible in his voice and making Gojo feel wonderfully light on his feet. “Already taking wedding photos?” his partner suggests dryly, answering Gojo’s unspoken proposal with an agreement of his own. Gojo doesn’t need any more than that. He laughs too, just from the sheer joy filling up his lungs.
“Who knows?” He waves the now developed photo between his fingers. It’s every bit as beautiful as he knew it would be. “Maybe we’ll need extras. Start making some memories now, huh?”