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It’s a mission like any other.
Suguru makes quick work of the Grade 1 curse and the few other lower grades it's controlling. It’s some kind of vine curse controlling small flower-like curses that are more annoying than anything. He summons his white dragon and defeats all of them in one swift motion. The more powerful curse writhes with its vine-like arms, trying to reach for something as Suguru shapes it into a ball.
This one scratches his throat in an unpleasant way when he swallows it and leaves an odd floral taste in his mouth. He’ll have to make some tea once he’s back at Jujutsu Tech.
After a warm, steamy shower, Suguru puts on his comfiest sweatpants and an old T-shirt Satoru likes to steal. Satoru hasn’t been around much to wear it lately, however. Suguru feels a pang in his chest but tries not to focus on the emptiness that threatens to swallow him at the thought of his best friend. Ever since their failed mission to save the Star Plasma Vessel, and Satoru’s powerful awakening, he had been sent away on solo missions more often than not. He was the strongest sorcerer in centuries, after all. He didn’t need Suguru to complete his missions anymore. He probably never did, but Suguru likes to think that he at least taught Satoru to be less reckless. He was good at keeping him in check, Yaga said.
Maybe Satoru doesn’t need Suguru anymore, but Suguru needs Satoru still. His head has become a dark place to inhabit, where his ideals don’t feel as solid as they used to, his drive is slipping, and he’s losing sight of his purpose in life. Satoru had a way of quieting his spiraling thoughts, sometimes by simply being obnoxiously loud, some other times by bringing out the softness in Suguru. Whenever he was around Satoru, Suguru couldn’t help but give in to his every whim if only to see him smile. Satoru reminded him that his hands are good for something other than exorcising and summoning curses. That he’s still capable of being gentle despite the violent intrusive thoughts that take over his brain sometimes.
His throat feels scratchy still and he can’t help but cough. Right, time for that tea.
He boils some water and pours himself a cup of chamomile and honey, the way his mother used to make for him whenever he was sick as a kid.
Back in his dorm room, he gets cozy under the covers with a book. Tomorrow is his day off; as long as nothing urgent comes up, that is. He tries to focus on reading but his mind wanders.
It’s too quiet. When did that become lonely rather than comforting? He spent his entire first year at Jujutsu Tech fighting with Satoru, yelling at him to please shut the fuck up and give him some peace and quiet.
But he grew accustomed to it. The lack of chaos and incessant chatter feels wrong now. Satoru’s absence feels like missing one of his fingers. When was he supposed to come back from his mission? Tomorrow night?
If he arrives early, maybe they’ll have time to beat that video game they started weeks ago but haven’t had time to finish. He can’t wait to see Satoru’s petulant pout when he loses. The frown that always makes Suguru want to reach out and smooth it out with his fingers. Suguru’s chest fills with warmth at the thought.
Suddenly, his cough comes back with a vengeance. How ironic that even powerful sorcerers like him are not immune to mundane things like seasonal allergies and viruses. He finishes his tea and turns off the light. Surely some rest will fix him.
****
The next day, Shoko listens to his lungs and performs a routine checkup.
"Seems like just a cough, I'll fix you right up". She holds her hands over Suguru and a slight warmth envelops him. "There, good as new."
"Thanks, Shoko, don't know what I'd do without you," Suguru smiles sincerely.
"Die in a ditch, probably. You really gotta stop eating everything you exorcise, it cannot be good for your immune system."
Suguru chuckles, quickly changing the subject. "So, cigarette break?" His laugh gets louder at Shoko's deadpan stare.
"You guys are such a fucking headache. Now get out of my office, I got corpses to dissect." She shoos him out of the room and slams the door behind him.
His cough seems to be gone now and his chest feels less constricted. Maybe he’ll go on a hike today. Some time in nature might do him good.
****
Suguru looks up to the tree line and inhales deeply, letting the crisp air fill his lungs. As he makes his way on the meandering path up the mountain, he lets his mind wander. Inevitably, his ruminating leads him to something that has been plaguing his thoughts incessantly the past few months.
There’s this thing , something unnamed yet festering in his chest, growing by the day, filling his stomach with unfamiliar fluttering.
It's Satoru. The version of him that lives in Suguru’s veins, unbeknownst to him but always buzzing. Anywhere he goes, anything he does, it's always Satoru, Satoru, Satoru. Suguru wonders how one person can occupy so much space in his brain. He doesn't fully understand what it is that's been making him feel this way, so out of control of his thoughts around him. There's been a shift, that much he knows– the comfort in their closeness and unwavering trust is still there but the lingering touches make him feel feverish. He finds himself staring at his best friend when he's not looking. He's not entirely sure what he's searching for but Satoru pulls him in like a magnet regardless.
He notices little details about him he didn't before– the way Satoru’s slender fingers curl around the stick of a lollipop, the shine on his lips when he closes his mouth around it. Suguru finds himself wanting to taste it, aching to know what Satoru’s tongue would feel like against his own, wanting to lick the sugar dripping down the corner of his mouth.
Suguru craves Satoru’s closeness in a way he never has before. His absence gets louder and harder to bear every day.
Maybe he’s just touch-starved. Maybe it doesn’t mean anything, maybe he’s making a big deal out of nothing.
There's a word that keeps dancing around in the back of his mind like a stubborn mosquito, but he always swats at it before it can take form, determined to never let it see the light of day.
****
That evening, Suguru and Shoko are lounging in the common area, trying to decide what to do for dinner when the door bursts open with unnecessary force.
“I’m back!” Satoru’s voice fills the room.
“We can see that,” Shoko says without looking up from her phone.
“You don’t need to yell, you know, we’re right here,” Suguru admonishes but his smile betrays how happy he is to see Satoru again.
“Suguruuuu, don’t be mean to me, I’m tiredddd.” As if to emphasize his point, Satoru crosses the room to the couch where Suguru is sitting and flops down into his lap unceremoniously. “I can barely feel my legs, you’re gonna have to carry me everywhere.”
Suguru raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “What’s in it for me?”
“The honor of holding the one and only Gojo Satoru in your arms, of course.” Satoru shoots him a devious and all too radiant smile. “So, you got any snacks? Other than me, of course.”
Shoko makes a gagging sound from her armchair.
“We were trying to decide what to get for dinner when you so gracelessly interrupted us.” Satoru pouts at this. “But I still have mochi in the fridge.”
Satoru brightens immediately, bouncing excitedly where he’s sitting on Suguru’s lap. Suguru’s brain signals danger, danger!!!! He quickly pushes Satoru to the side and gets up to retrieve the mochi from the attached kitchen, but before he makes it to the fridge, he doubles over the sink with a coughing fit.
“Suguru, you okay over there? Do I need to come do CPR on you?” The mental image Satoru is painting makes Suguru choke on his spit, exacerbating the coughing. “Shit, Shoko, I think he’s actually dying.”
Satoru is by his side in an instant with a glass of water. Suguru drinks it slowly, trying to even out his breathing.
“I’m fine, Satoru,” he smiles gratefully. “I think I caught something during my last mission but I’m sure it’ll go away soon.”
Shoko is giving him an odd look but it’s gone in a second and Suguru is not sure if he imagined it. Impassive as ever, she returns to her phone. “I told you, your immune system requires a better diet, more nutrients, less curses.”
“More snacks and video games!! Doctor’s orders,” Satoru says cheerfully, dragging Suguru towards his room. They vaguely hear Shoko’s “that’s not what I said!” from the living room but they are already halfway out the door.
They get comfortable, arranging several pillows and blankets on Suguru’s floor across from the TV to form a makeshift nest. They settle in, legs tangled and controllers in hand, knowing they won’t put them down until there is a winner. It’s a close call, but Suguru beats Satoru at the last minute.
Suguru cheers, shoving Satoru by the shoulder playfully. “You gotta do my laundry for the next week, loser.”
“Ha! Joke’s on you, you know your clothes will all end up pink.” Satoru smirks, and Suguru is quickly reminded of how badly it went last time Satoru tried to do laundry. Flooded room, mountains of soap, and all his clothes bleached. Of course Gojo Satoru had never had to wash his own clothes. “ I didn’t know which product to use so I just poured all of them in ,” he had said, to Yaga’s dismay.
“God, you’re insufferable,” Suguru rolls his eyes.
“Yeah but you love it.” Satoru bats his lashes and Suguru suddenly realizes how close they are.
On nights like these, he lets himself imagine how things could be. He lets himself stare unabashedly, lean in a little closer. They haven’t had a night to themselves to just relax and be dumb teenagers in so long. To just sit and enjoy each other’s presence, the rest of the world be damned. Satoru looks soft, despite the goofy smile he’s wearing. His glasses are off, the fairy lights reflecting off his too-blue eyes in an ethereal way that’s both creepy and beautiful.
Suguru wants to touch. He doesn’t know how long he’s felt like this, this ache in his chest whenever he’s in Satoru’s space but not touching him. Putting a name to whatever they have always felt unnecessary, so he decided a long time ago that he didn’t need to put a name to this feeling either. A part of him asks why not, but he knows the answer too well. The boundaries he’s set for himself are there for a reason. But maybe just this once…
He reaches his fingers out to touch Satoru’s cheek. Satoru’s eyes widen in surprise but he doesn’t look away. For a long moment they just look at each other.
Then Suguru’s throat starts closing up.
Suguru quickly removes his hand. “Eyelash,” he coughs. “You had a stray eyelash”. Satoru seems to deflate but is quickly distracted because Suguru is still coughing. Pretty badly. Suguru is choking for air, his throat constricting painfully. This doesn’t feel like any virus he’s ever had before. Satoru brings a glass of water to his lips and rubs his back in soothing circles until the coughing eventually subsides.
“Satoru,” his voice comes out raspy. “Maybe you should go, I don’t want to get you sick.”
“Me? Sick? Don’t make me laugh. I’m the strongest sorcerer alive, viruses bow before me. They should be bowing to you too, Suguru, have you been slacking on your training?” Satoru has never been tactful, but Suguru knows him well enough by now to hear the compliment and concern behind his words.
Satoru gets up and starts rummaging through Suguru’s drawers. “What are you doing? I just folded those!”
“I’m looking for comfy clothes to sleep in,” Satoru says nonchalantly. “I can’t leave you alone all night with that cough of yours. If you die, who’s gonna make me hot chocolate and let me copy their notes?”
Suguru huffs, a wave of fondness washing through him as he climbs into bed. He lays on his side and watches Satoru as his nimble fingers touch every piece of clothing until he finally settles on the old T-shirt Suguru was wearing the night before. Suguru can’t help but smile, the fuzzy feeling spreading all the way to his toes. Satoru starts undressing and Suguru forgets how to breathe. It’s stupid, he’s seen Satoru shirtless countless times, but his reaction is always the same. Satoru’s skin looks so soft. Suguru wonders what it would feel like under his palms, how his muscles would tense as his hands roamed, what sounds Satoru would make. He looks at the column of his throat, so elegant under the fairy lights, and wonders what it would feel like under his lips, how the tendons would feel under his teeth–
“Earth to Suguru!” Satoru is waving a hand in front of him. He startles with an eloquent “huh, wha–?” “I asked if you want me to turn off the lights.” He nods, shaken out of his thoughts.
Satoru climbs into bed, pushing Suguru closer to the wall. Suguru had tried telling him that he always slept on the right side of the bed the first time Satoru slept over, but Satoru always does what he wants. And of course, Suguru always indulges him, so Satoru had claimed the right side ever since. Fuck, is he a pushover?
Suguru feels Satoru’s long legs tangling with his own and realizes he's not wearing any pants. “Do you want sweatpants or something?” For my own sanity , he thinks.
“Nah, you run hot, you'll keep me warm, right Suguru?” Satoru snuggles closer.
Suguru’s heart does a flip but he tries to keep his voice steady. “Right, me and not the four blankets you're drowning under.”
He feels an arm being slung around his chest, and Satoru's head comes to rest on his shoulder. Suddenly, the world goes quiet and Suguru releases the tension he didn't know he was holding. All he can focus on is the scent of Satoru's shampoo as his mess of hair tickles his nose, the warmth radiating off him, the weight of his body against his. He wraps his arms around Satoru and thinks he could get used to this.
No, he had gotten used to this. Before Toji. Before Riko. He reminds himself that he's supposed to be doing the opposite, teaching himself not to miss this closeness. They were no longer on the same level, Suguru would only hold Satoru back. Right. Right, he can't have this. This was never going to last. For Satoru’s sake, he’s supposed to be pulling away. But why does it hurt so much?
His throat is closing up again but Suguru is determined not to wake Satoru up. He so rarely sleeps. He must have been exhausted if he fell asleep this quickly instead of fidgeting for hours. Holding the itch on the back of his throat makes tears well up in Suguru's eyes, but he takes some calming breaths and finally passes out. He was exhausted too.
****
Blue as the ocean, blue as ice, blue as the endless sky.
The rain falls softly on his skin, gentle, almost loving.
He looks up and finds it’s not rain, it’s petals. Blue petals falling from the sky like snow. He holds his hand out, catching a small bud on his palm. It begins blooming into a beautiful flower that continues growing and growing until it can no longer fit in his hand. It begins crawling up the length of his arm, the pressure increasing uncomfortably, enveloping the side of his body in a tight, suffocating embrace. He tries to pry it off but it holds onto his skin stubbornly.
He looks down to the bed of petals he’s standing on but they are no longer blue, they are all stained red.
****
He wakes up gasping for air, thinking he's drowning. He's coughing so hard he thinks he might throw up. When the tears clear from his eyes, he sees it. A red spot on his pillow. Fuck. His mouth tastes like iron.
He feels a hand on his back.
“Suguru?” Satoru mumbles, still half asleep. “Are you okay?”
Suguru quickly turns the pillow over to hide the blood and gets up to go wash his mouth in the sink. “I'm fine, ‘Toru, go back to sleep.”
“Hurry back, ok? You're taking all the warmth away.”
Suguru looks into the bathroom mirror and sees his lips and teeth are coated in red. He spits and washes his mouth. It’s fine, it’s just a cold, maybe he has strep throat. He’ll pay Shoko another visit; he has no idea if she’s allowed to prescribe antibiotics but he’s sure she can get them. With a deep breath, he goes back to bed, pulling Satoru close to him, his body curling tightly around his. He doesn’t know how long he has with Satoru before he’s sent on another long mission and they don’t see each other again for weeks. He pulls Satoru closer and presses a soft kiss to the back of his neck. He smells like the lush geranium body wash he gifted him for his birthday.
Suguru falls asleep thinking of blue eyes and spring flowers.
***
As expected, the next day Satoru is sent on another week-long mission, this time to Hokkaido. He complains the entire time while packing his bag and assures Suguru that it won't take a whole week.
“You'll call me, right Suguru?” Satoru's exaggerated puppy eyes mask the real sadness and exhaustion behind them, but Suguru knows better.
“It's only a week, Satoru, don't be dramatic,” he rolls his eyes in fake exasperation, but he moves closer, his voice softening as he places a soft kiss on Satoru’s forehead. “But yeah, I'll call you.”
****
Suguru's cough gets better over the following week. See? Nothing to worry about . That is, until Satoru is back again. Suguru is washing dishes when he feels Satoru's arms wrap around his waist from behind and his chin rest on his shoulder.
“You miss me, Suguru?” Satoru's voice is soft and teasing and right in Suguru's ear. He drops the mug he was washing, which thankfully doesn’t shatter, and devolves into a coughing fit so bad it gets blood all over the dirty dishes.
“Ew Suguru, do you have tuberculosis or something??” Satoru recoils, ever so thoughtful and considerate. Suguru fixes him with a glare. “Shokooooo, Suguru is sick again, fix him!!!” he yells so loud it makes Suguru cringe. Fix him she does, and again Suguru thinks it’s just a particularly stubborn case of bronchitis.
The next day, Satoru is called on a 3-day mission. Suguru dutifully takes his cough medicine and feels less sick by the day. He’s excited about getting ice cream with Shoko and Satoru when they’re all back from their missions.
He’s sparring with Nanami in the courtyard when he registers a blur of white coming towards them at full speed. Nanami is pushed out of the way by the sheer force of Infinity hitting at such high velocity, landing on his ass with a frown that quickly goes from confused to murderous. Suguru can barely register all this before the white tornado is tackling him to the ground, legs wrapped around his waist.
“Satoru, what the actual fu–” he starts but then he looks up and is hit with the most radiant smile he’s ever seen in his life and he loses all train of thought. For a moment, Suguru can’t breathe. Maybe it has something to do with the whole weight of his lanky best friend pressing him into the concrete, but he thinks anyone would be rendered breathless if they saw such a pretty face looking at them that way.
“Suguru, I got those snacks you like!” Satoru’s smile is almost blinding. Suguru thinks he could never get tired of looking at him. He looks so pretty, the blue sky contrasting with his snow-white hair but perfectly complementing his eerie blue eyes hidden behind his glasses. Suguru stares. And stares. And fuck, he knows he’s staring and Suguru has never been a religious man by any stretch, but right now he thinks maybe god is real after all because who else could create such a perfect creature?
Is this what people call being “down bad”?
“Ahem”, Nanami is radiating fury behind them. “For the thousandth time, GET A FUCKING ROOM.” He’s clenching his teeth so hard Suguru thinks he might break his jaw.
“Satoru, you gotta apologize to Nanami,” Suguru says as he sits up and gently pushes Satoru off him. Satoru pouts like the brat he is. “I’m serious, you need to start being more polite, you’re kind of a menace.”
“Fine,” he huffs. “Nanamiiii, sorry you didn’t get out of the way in time!”
The man in question storms off mumbling something about privilege and death.
“So, you wanna go eat these snacks and watch a movie?” Satoru wiggles his eyebrows. Suguru is about to nod in agreement when his lungs betray him and he has to lean to the side to cover his coughing fit with his arm. The pain is getting worse, he notes in between his bouts of dry heaving. Why would the pain be getting worse? His cough had been receding, he was supposed to be getting better.
“What the fuck is that?” Satoru pulls him from his thoughts as he points to something on the floor, right underneath Suguru’s line of hacking. It’s shriveled up and blue, almost looks like a dead bug or a crumpled piece of paper. “Suguru, you know you’re supposed to take the wrappers off the candy before eating them, right?”
Suguru tunes out Satoru’s comments, reaching out to pick up the blue chunk off the floor for closer examination. It looks like…a petal? Jesus, he really needs to pay more attention to what he eats. Maybe it’s just a piece of the salad he had for lunch. He reaches into his pocket to retrieve an old gum wrapper and places the petal inside to show to Shoko later, just in case.
****
When it happens a third time– Suguru’s cough getting better until Satoru shows up– he begins to think something might be off.
“Hanahaki??? No way, that's not a real disease!”
“You're right, it's not. For most people. But we're sorcerers. Unfortunately, based on your description of both the curse you fought and the shit you’ve been spitting out, you seem to have eaten a curse born from repressed love whose cursed technique is making flowers grow in your lungs. So, basically hanahaki. That’s the closest thing that resembles it, at least.” Shoko puts a hand on his shoulder, likely trying to be comforting. “I wish I was making this up. You're probably the only person alive that could get this disease too, since no one else is out there eating curses.” Shoko is giving him a disapproving look. “I keep telling you not to eat every curse that comes your way.”
“Fine, you were right, now how do I fix this??” Suguru’s mind is reeling, unable to wrap his head around the absurdity of his situation.
“You're telling me you've never read a corny hanahaki story?” she quirks a skeptical eyebrow. “You either forget about him, which we both know isn't going to happen, or you stop repressing the feeling and let it ‘bloom’.”
“You gotta be kidding. How do you even know it'll work?” Suguru tries not to focus on the fact that they haven’t even said a name but Shoko seems to already be making assumptions. Not that she’s wrong.
“I don't. But it's the best lead we have, and judging by the lack of similar real-life cases, I'd say it's your only option. You know how it goes, it will only get worse with time.”
“I'm not fucking ‘confessing’. I haven’t even processed that feeling myself, I can’t just tell him.” His stubbornness is quickly being overshadowed by panic, but he knows that much he can’t do.
“You will die , Suguru. It's not fucking optional. You will literally suffocate to death. It won't be pretty.” When Suguru doesn't reply, she continues. “Besides, what's the big deal? It's not like he's gonna reject you, you guys are literally obsessed with each other.”
“But what if he does? Or worse, what if he doesn't??” Shoko looks lost and increasingly annoyed, like she’s about to have to explain rocket science to a baby. Suguru’s tone turns somber. “I can't burden him with my feelings, he has so much responsibility already. And you know how short sorcerers’ lives are, it would only bring pain. I'm not strong enough to stand by his side.”
“That’s the stupidest shit I’ve ever heard, and I’ve spent the last three years of my life hearing Satoru talk. What happened to you guys’ whole ‘we’re the strongest’ bit?” Shoko is lighting a cigarette, not bothering to wait to be outside.
“You know that hasn't been true for a while. Not since Riko and Toji. Satoru's changed. He's practically a god. I'm fucking drowning, Shoko. I don't know how much more of this I have in me. I can’t keep up with him anymore, I don’t even know what I believe in anymore, but I care too much about him to be what brings him down.”
Shoko sighs so deeply it’s almost impressive. “Fine, fine, spare me your sob story. You’re gonna have to get treated by me weekly but that’s not a permanent solution, I’m just buying you some time.”
“The world is better with you in it, Shoko, I mean it.”
“Yeah yeah, just hurry up and get better so we can smoke together again.”
****
He starts having nightmares almost every night. Not unusual for him, but these feel different, like someone is trying to tell him something. He tells himself it's just the stress from his current situation; maybe he should try meditation before sleeping.
He doesn't realize the toll this curse is taking on his body until he's sent out on a mission that should've been easy but almost gets him killed.
That night, after Shoko has healed all his injuries and given him another lecture, he reassesses his situation and takes stock of his symptoms. He's been unable to keep most food down, let alone curses, and he gets winded from going up the stairs. He doesn't remember the last time he had restful sleep. His mind seems to be covered in fog, making it difficult to focus on things.
Fuck, there's no way he can go on any more missions like this. Today he made it out of pure luck but next time might not go so well.
Suguru starts to panic. This might be a real problem. If he can't be sent on missions, then what good is he?? If he can’t even keep himself alive, how is he supposed to protect other people? He looks down at his trembling fingers. Useless hands. He raises his gaze back into the mirror and stares unseeingly into his reflection– his sunken eyes and the dark circles around them, the sickly pale skin. He picks up his toothbrush and vaguely thinks about investing in concealer. When he spits, it's all red.
****
The room is illuminated by moonlight, casting eerie shadows on the tall brick walls. His reflection stares back at him through the liquid metal in front of him, eyes completely black.
“You’re running out of time,” a cruel smile twists his lips, but there’s a hint of sadness behind it.
A vine sprouts from the ground and encircles his wrist.
“You let it consume you so easily.” The voice is not his own. His own lips aren’t moving, but those of his reflection in the dripping mirror are. “Let it bloom, save us both, let it bloom.”
More vines crawl around him, tying his ankles and pulling him down to his knees. His reflection is crying, but the liquid is dark. He looks down at the floor underneath him and notices the blood dripping down, slowly hitting the concrete. His mouth tastes like metal.
****
The next time Satoru is around, he asks Suguru to come play basketball outside. It's a beautiful sunny day, not too hot. Suguru tries playing but his exhaustion gets the better of him after only a few minutes. He tells Satoru he'll have to sit this one out, dropping onto a patch of grass, eyes closed, counting his breaths.
“Suguru, are you okay? Have you lost weight?” Satoru seems concerned. Is it wrong that it feels good to have Satoru worry about him?
“I'm fine, just tired. Haven't been sleeping well.” Satoru doesn't seem convinced but he doesn't press the issue.
“Well, lucky for you, you’ve got a weighted blanket to help you sleep better tonight!” Satoru points at himself proudly.
Suguru’s chest blooms, a small smile spreading on his lips as he looks up at his best friend. His hands twitch with the urge to reach out and interlace their fingers. He can feel it again– the now all too familiar pain in his chest, quickly spreading up his trachea.
Right when he thinks he can't hold it in anymore, Yaga calls out for Satoru, who turns his head and sighs dramatically. “I'm being summoned but I'll come by your room later. Nanami and Haibara are here today too, let's all have a movie night!” Before Suguru can reply, Satoru is already halfway through the basketball court, waving behind him.
With a huge gasping breath, Suguru chokes out three bloody petals. He stares at them for a long time, mind blank and head spinning. They look so small and pathetic, yet they feel like knives on the way out of his mouth. He tries getting up but is so lightheaded he only manages to get on his knees before falling to the side. He groans in frustration, considering his options. In the end, he swallows his pride, pulls his phone out, and calls Shoko.
****
“Dude, you're like, dying. Have you looked in the mirror lately? You look like roadkill.” Shoko uses her reverse cursed technique to give him enough strength to walk on his own, then extends a hand to pull him to his feet.
“That's not very nice,” Suguru responds but cringes when he hears how hoarse his voice is.
“You sound like roadkill too,” she's fixing him with an extremely unimpressed look. “This is not sustainable, you're running out of time.”
“I know.” Suguru sighs. “Believe me, I know.”
****
That night, Satoru shows up in the common room with an armful of hair brushes and accessories, candy, and a giant blanket. Everyone's gathered around the TV for a much-needed night of mindless entertainment and junk food.
“Gojo-senpai, what DVD did you get??” Haibara looks like an excited puppy, almost bouncing with energy where he's seated on one of the couches.
“I swear, if you make us watch Bee Movie again there will be casualties,” Nanami is a stark contrast next to Haibara, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else.
“We're watching Transformers tonight!” Satoru announces, eliciting cheers from Haibara. He turns to Suguru with a pleased smile and says “Suguru, let me braid your hair.” He doesn't even wait for a response before dumping an array of hair clips and hair ties in Suguru's lap.
Suguru can't help but chuckle, unable to hide the fondness that spreads through his chest whenever he gets to be around Satoru. He could pretend to resist for the sake of banter but the truth is he likes when Satoru plays with his hair and he really needs the comfort right now. He thinks Satoru knows this too.
He situates himself on a pillow on the floor in between Satoru's legs as the movie starts and gives him free reign to do as he pleases with his hair.
“She’s way too hot for him.” Satoru keeps interrupting the movie with his commentary.
“Oh absolutely,” Shoko agrees from the couch behind them, mumbling around a mouthful of popcorn. “He doesn’t even have a good personality! I could treat her better.”
“I thought this movie was about robots?” Haibara seems confused.
Suguru lets himself relax. He finds the silly commentary is actually comforting. He feels Satoru’s fingers and a comb in his hair, brushing it gently so as to not pull too hard on any knots. He’s careful about it, patient. Satoru is neither of those things on a good day. But he’s taking his time with Suguru’s hair, untangling every knot meticulously. Once he’s satisfied with the brushing, he moves to place his fingers on Suguru’s scalp, massaging in small circles. Suguru melts under the touch. A pleased sigh escapes his lips before he can stop it, but it's quiet enough that he thinks no one but Satoru can hear it.
He stopped paying attention to the movie a while ago, preferring to focus all his attention on Satoru's touch. Every point of contact feels tingly. Satoru scrapes his nails down slowly from Suguru’s temple to the nape of his neck. Suguru shivers and goosebumps raise down the length of his arms. He places a hand on Satoru's thigh, stroking a thumb back and forth absentmindedly. He feels Satoru’s leg relax as well, leaning into his touch.
Suguru closes his eyes. He feels so content in this moment, surrounded by his friends, being cared for by the person most important to him in the entire world.
And yet, quietly, somewhere deep in his core, he burns. It has nothing to do with the curse, he knows, and a lot more with the person sitting behind him. He's been burning inside for a long time. The longing feels all-consuming, like it could swallow him whole. There's not enough room in his body for the enormity of this feeling. And yet it keeps growing. Every day, with every touch, with every laugh, every look exchanged from across the room or the battlefield, every time they communicate without words. He's been aching for so long he doesn't know how he's still standing. All he wants is to turn around and press his forehead to Satoru’s and say the words he won't even allow himself to think. He wants to reach out and ask Satoru to climb under his skin and live there so they never have to be apart.
Suddenly, the touch becomes overwhelming. He blinks the wetness in his eyes away and takes a deep breath. Satoru must feel him tense up because he withdraws his hands from his hair. Suguru panics; no, no don't go please, don't stop touching me, don't leave, I–
He wonders if Satoru can read his mind sometimes. They understand each other and their needs at a level that he's never experienced with anyone else. Satoru doesn't pull away. His hands don't go back to scratching his scalp but he begins gathering strands of hair to start a braid. Suguru relaxes again. Jesus, he needs to keep it together. This curse is messing with his brain.
He makes an effort to actually watch the movie for the rest of the night and be present in this space; they don't get to do this very often anymore. Satoru adorns his French braid with butterfly clips in a variety of colors and shows it off proudly to the rest of the room. Everyone seems to love it. Suguru turns around to smile at Satoru and thank him but the words die in his throat when their eyes lock. Satoru's eyes are sparkling in such a way that it makes him look right out of a fairy tail, making Suguru's mind go completely blank. Satoru seems to be in a similar situation, judging by the surprised look on his face and the growing blush coloring his cheeks pink.
“You look pretty,” Satoru blurts out softly. He shakes his head slightly, blinking rapidly, and clears his throat, speaking louder this time. “I did a great job, as usual. If the world didn't depend on me to protect it from curses I could pursue a career in hair styling!”
Nanami looks positively displeased by the whole exchange but doesn't voice any insults. Shoko is giving them a knowing look and snickering behind her hand.
“Yo Satoru, let me do you now!!” Shoko begins rummaging through the hair clips, pulling a few sparkly ones aside. The night devolves into an impromptu competition of who can come up with the most ridiculous hairstyle, which Satoru wins by a mile. Even Nanami gets reluctantly pulled into it, mostly because he seems to enjoy pulling Satoru's hair out and pretending it's an accident.
Suguru almost forgets about his decaying lungs and the sense of impending doom that's been following him around for the past few weeks. Tonight, he’s just happy to be here.
****
Words swallowed like an omen. Words swallowed like bad medicine. Like phlegm in the winter, like too much sugar and too bitter coffee. Like stones and shards of glass. Like light and blue petals.
Like petals. Like leaves. Like stems with thorns. Like bile and blood.
He doubles over and watches it all hit the tiled floor.
“You swallowed it all for too long, boy. Did you really think it would just vanish? That it wouldn't take root and form an ugly monster, far more hideous than any of the curses you swallow? Did you think you could hide such an undeniable truth forever?” The voice echoes all around him but he can’t find the source.
There are vines coming out of his mouth, wrapping around his body as he falls to his knees, gasping for air but finding nothing. He frantically claws at his throat, his vision going hazy and dark.
He wakes up in a cold sweat.
He is used to the nausea. To the sense of a dark entity foreign to himself trying to take form in his stomach. He's not used to the flowers, though. Those are new. And far more annoying, since they seem to be growing faster, his coughing fits more frequent. He can hide it still, he thinks. Nobody seems to notice anything these days anyway, everyone's too preoccupied with important jujutsu business. With how infrequently Satoru is around, he can probably still get away with saying it’s pneumonia.
He picks up the blue buds covered in saliva and blood and arranges them neatly on his palm. Maybe there’s enough of them to at least figure out what flower it is.
Forget-me-nots. You’ve gotta be kidding.
****
Suguru hasn’t given much thought to how he would die. He's known for a while that he wouldn’t make it to old age, scarcely any sorcerer ever did. He also knew it would likely be at the hands of a curse. But he thought he had a little more time than this. And most of all, he thought he would go down fighting, protecting the ones he loved, protecting random strangers out there who likely didn’t even deserve it. This slower, quiet internal death doesn’t feel very heroic. He tries to remind himself that he’s still dying to protect someone important to him.
I don’t want to become his weakness.
Admitting to himself that this is it, he is in fact going to die soon, is harder than he expected. Every sorcerer must be ready to give their life every day; it’s their job, after all. He thought he was, but there are still things he wants to do. He hadn’t even really had time to be a teenager or see any of the world.
On late nights, when the air was still and quiet, their laughter had died down, and their hands grazed each other under the blanket, he and Satoru talked about the places they wanted to see together. They let their imaginations run wild, came up with increasingly elaborate plans for the future, allowed themselves to dream of a world that didn’t separate them but was made better and safer by their combined strength. They never once talked about a future where they weren’t together. It was unfathomable, not even worth considering.
But Suguru knew deep down that one day Satoru would walk alone once more, having no need for him, having surpassed him in every way. Satoru was born to do great things. For a brief moment in time, Suguru had deluded himself into thinking he could stand by his side, be the rock Satoru leaned on when his strength faltered. It was selfish, how much he wanted things to stay the same forever for that to be true. He had been given a taste of the privilege of being the only person allowed to get close to the one and only Gojo Satoru and he had become addicted. How could he not? Satoru had a way of making him feel like he could do anything, like he was destined for greatness as well if he chose the same path.
Everything about Satoru was intoxicating– his voice, his smile, even his scent. If Suguru was a better man, he would have let him go long ago, when he first realized he was being left behind. But despite the countless curses that lived in his body, Suguru was still only human. He wanted to be selfish sometimes, he wanted to keep Satoru all to himself, he wanted to tell him.
God, he wanted to tell him so badly sometimes. When he watched Satoru laugh and the light hit just right, making him look so beautiful it almost hurt, Suguru wanted to look him in the eyes and finally let go of the words he's been choking on. When Satoru clinged to him on cold days, all sleepy eyes and messy hair, Suguru wanted to whisper in his ear and stop drowning in the mess of feelings crushing his chest. But most of all, on the days when he got a glimpse into Satoru's vulnerable side, when he looked at Suguru with big unguarded eyes, insecurity and loneliness peeking through, Suguru wished he could reassure him the way he wanted to.
But that would be too selfish. Satoru isn't his to keep.
He might not even feel the same anyway.
Sometimes Suguru is so sure the feeling is mutual, that he hasn't imagined the way Satoru’s gaze softens when he looks at Suguru, that the gentle touches mean as much to Satoru as they do to him. Do friends look at each other this way? Do their souls feel connected by an unbreakable bond that transcends time and space? Is he overplaying the strength of their relationship in his head, buying into a delusion brought on by his own repressed feelings?
Suguru sighs. It doesn't matter anyway. Even if Satoru felt the same way about him, it wouldn't change anything.
****
“We need you two to take care of a Special Grade curse right outside of Tokyo. It took two sorcerers out of commission already so you guys are going as back-up. Shoko will be on call, should anything go sideways.” Yaga turns to look at Suguru with a weary expression. “Can you handle it? I know you’ve been feeling sick lately.”
Probably not , he thinks. Who is he kidding, he absolutely could not but he would give it his best anyway. Because that’s what being a jujutsu sorcerer means. And because people need him.
“Of course, we’ll take care of it,” Suguru nods politely.
“What kind of question is that? Of course we can handle it, we’re the strongest!” Satoru’s confidence is endearing but it makes guilt twist in Suguru’s stomach uncomfortably. He can’t let Satoru down. He’s gotta get it together. He can do this. He has to do this.
****
"He can't know, okay??" Suguru pleads. "He'll never forgive himself, he has too much to live for, the whole world is on his shoulders. The last thing I want to do is add to his burden." Suguru is holding Shoko’s hand so tightly her fingers are turning purple.
"Are you stupid?? Are the flowers getting to your brain too? Who else could it possibly be? It will be obvious, blue flowers aren't exactly common, you know?" Shoko is losing her patience, by the looks of it.
"Then make something up! A nature-related curse, not this pathetic disease! Shoko, you have to promise me." The desperation in his voice must be obvious now because Shoko is looking at him with what can only be described as pity.
“Look, I know you think you're being selfless but you're doing the opposite. Think how Satoru will feel if he loses you. He'd be devastated. Do you really think he'd want this? Give him the chance to decide for himself. And what about me, huh? Am I supposed to just watch you die?”
Suguru’s hold on her hand eases as he closes his eyes and takes a few calming breaths. “Ok ok, I'll figure it out, I promise.”
Shoko groans and hands him what looks like a regular inhaler. "This is imbued with cursed energy. It will keep you from dying on the spot when things get out of hand but it is a last resort. If you need to use this, you have hours to live, you're as good as dead unless you fix it, do you understand?"
Suguru nods but does not meet her eyes. His fate has been set in stone since the moment he laid eyes on Satoru.
****
They spot the place easily by the dark dome-like curtain the two previous sorcerers put up. They look at each other, nod silently, and walk in. While Suguru is nervous about his current physical state, he is also excited to fight alongside Satoru again. Nothing compares to the thrill of perfectly synchronized attacks, smiling at each other in the heat of battle, knowing that they always have each other’s backs no matter what.
They spot the Special Grade a couple hundred feet to their right, digging for something in the ground. It doesn’t seem to notice them at first. Suguru notices it has an uneven number of arms; five, he counts. A row of spikes adorns its head and seems to pulse with its breathing, and a dark green liquid trickles down the side of its head. From this angle, Suguru can’t see its face but he can hear a faint gurgling sound coming from its direction.
“We should approach carefully, we can each take a side and–” Suguru starts but is quickly interrupted by Satoru’s overconfident voice.
“Don’t worry, Suguru, this will only take five seconds.” He has a slightly manic smile on his face and is already doing the hand gestures to use his Red technique.
Suguru rolls his eyes and sighs. Okay then, guns blazing it is.
Suddenly, he detects movement from the corner of his eye and quickly turns around. There’s a second, lower grade curse lurking in the dark. More movement to his left. And to the left of that. Ah shit.
“Satoru, wait!”
He barely has time to shout a warning before Satoru starts shooting red at the special grade, causing it to release a guttural screech and charge towards them. He can see the moment Satoru notices the other curses surrounding them but is too busy summoning a curse of his own to fight back to make any snide remarks. He hears the special grade speak in a language he doesn’t understand, and the smaller curses get in formation.
“Satoru, I think the big guy is in full control of the smaller ones. Shit, it’s smart enough to have a small army. If we take down the big guy the others should be easier to exorcise.”
“Don’t need to tell me twice!” Satoru puts his fingers together to release a hollow purple, blasting the Special Grade against a nearby wall with a sickening crunch. It doesn’t stay down, however; it charges at them at full speed and that’s when Suguru realizes that the spikes on its head are not spikes at all but giant teeth. Its whole head is a giant mouth.
He summons his manta ray to avoid the curse’s attack, while providing air support for Satoru, who is still fighting on the ground. His Infinity wards off any attacks and he seems to have taken down a couple of the smaller curses already. Suguru readies another attack when a coughing fit wracks his body, making him hesitate just long enough for one of the curses to knock him off his manta ray. He hits the ground and rolls to his side clutching his ribs, still coughing up blood.
No, not just blood. Whole flowers litter the ground in front of him. His lungs feel like they’re on fire, his throat raw. God, he will never use anything floral scented ever again. His vision swims as he tries to get back up on his feet, the lack of oxygen slowing down both his movements and thoughts. Concentrate, you still gotta fight.
He looks for Satoru and makes eye contact with him just as he turns around to look at Suguru with a concerned frown. Suguru gives him a weak thumbs up and gets back to the fight. They manage to take down a few more of the lower grade curses and land a few more blows on the special grade, but Suguru knows he’s not pulling his weight. He can barely stand, if he’s being honest. He can barely see, can barely breathe; gray dots color his vision, getting larger by the second. He’s going to collapse. He’s going to collapse and leave Satoru to fight alone.
No, he can’t do that. Satoru is counting on him.
He remembers then the inhaler Shoko had given him, still sitting in his pocket. This seems as good a time as any to use it. Last resort, huh? He brings it to his lips and takes a long puff, holding the breath in for a few long seconds before exhaling. His vision clears and he regains some of his strength. No longer on the verge of passing out, he charges at the special grade while summoning his rainbow dragon. It bites two of its arms off, throwing it off balance and creating an opening for Satoru to attack.
“Nice one, Suguru!” Satoru turns around to smile at him but it quickly dissolves into a shout, his eyes opening wide as he runs towards Suguru.
Suguru feels a cold and sticky mass encircling his body and tries to move to dodge it but he’s too late. A large tentacle holds him in place, crushing his ribs with the force of its embrace and punching the air out of his lungs. Inevitably, he devolves into more coughing. He can’t even take a breath in to ease the nausea. Was this one of the lower grade curses? How had he not sensed it coming his way? The pressure is mounting and he knows he only has a few more seconds before he’s crushed to a paste.
Satoru explodes the curse with Blue, making it release Suguru from its grasp. He lands on the hard concrete, barely conscious, and hits his head so hard he can feel his brain rattle in his skull. Satoru is running towards him, dodging attacks from the curses. That’s the last thing Suguru sees before everything goes dark.
****
“Suguru, wake up! Suguru! Wake up, what’s happening??? Suguru, please, talk to me!!!” Suguru blinks his eyes open slowly. He can see Satoru’s lips moving but he can barely hear him over the ringing in his ears. He looks so scared, he thinks distantly. Gojo Satoru doesn’t get scared. Damn, it must be really bad.
The petals that had fallen out of his mouth are blooming rapidly on the ground, growing dark vines that come to circle around his wrists, his torso, his calves. Blue buds are flowering all around him, forming a bed of forget-me-nots. Is he going to be buried by the flowers? Well, it wouldn’t matter anyway, he’s going to suffocate from the vines he can feel crawling up his throat trying to make their way out before that even happens. This is it.
He feels himself being shaken by the shoulders and focuses his vision again. Satoru’s face is covered in tears that form dirty tracks as they flow down his bloody cheeks. Suguru has never seen him like this. No mask, no trying to keep his composure, no trying to hide the desperation in his eyes as he frantically tries to pull the vines and flowers off of him.
“Suguru, how do I fix this?? Please tell me!!!” The words sound like they are coming from behind a thick layer of glass. Satoru gives up on pulling on the vines and opts for trying to use cursed energy to get rid of them. You can’t exorcise them, the curse lives in my stomach, Suguru thinks, but some of the pressure does ease off. Satoru, clearly exhausted, having had to defeat all the other curses by himself, is using the last of his energy to try to save him.
The wind brings a few blue petals flying in a flurry, some of which get caught in Satoru’s hair.
His Infinity. It’s deactivated. He really is down to his last resources, all to try and make sure that Suguru makes it out of here alive. Suguru had so easily chosen Satoru’s life over his own all this time. Satoru’s was way more important, his death would literally throw off the balance of the jujutsu word. He was the most powerful sorcerer in centuries. And here he was, just as easily willing to throw all of that away to save Suguru.
It would be unfair, wouldn’t it? It feels wrong– not telling him. He has to know. Surely he knows already but suddenly Suguru is filled with a sense of urgency. How could he be so stupid?? Satoru has to know, Suguru wants him to hear it, he wonders if anyone’s ever said those words to him before.
He opens his mouth and tries to speak but the sound is wet. He gurgles and tries to spit some of the blood out. There’s so much of it he’s choking on it. Satoru pulls his head up and props it on his lap. Suguru turns his head back to look up at Satoru, lips trying to move to form the words he’s kept so tightly guarded.
Satoru looks like an angel, with his white hair forming a messy halo around his face, his eyes almost glowing in the dark. Suguru can’t help but smile despite the pain.
“iloveyou,” it comes out raspy and wet and barely audible. The pressure from the vines wrapped tightly around his chest eases.
“What? Suguru, I can’t understand you,” Satoru gets closer and turns his head so that Suguru can speak directly into his ear.
“I love you,” he whispers. Satoru gasps and turns to look at him again. There’s confusion, hope, and fear mixed in his expression. The pressure around Suguru’s legs subsides, allowing circulation again.
“Suguru, I–, what??”
“I love you, Satoru. I’ve loved you for a long time, probably longer than I even realized.” He’s surprised he can even string that many words together right now. Then, he realizes the vines that were crushing his throat are receding. The pressure around his whole body is being quickly lifted. Satoru looks up and down his body, then back at his face, panicked.
“Suguru, what’s happening??”
Suguru closes his eyes and tries to take a deep breath. Is this what the curse meant? It feels like something is blooming deep in his chest, expelling all the vines and flowers and leaves and making room for oxygen. Let it bloom, save us both, it had said. Was the curse trapped in his body this whole time? Not fully exorcised, but not strong enough to move on its own. He feels something release within him, and a warm lightness expands in his chest and envelops him.
“I think I’m having a Disney princess moment,” Suguru croaks out.
“WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT, YOU ARE NOT MAKING ANY SENSE” Satoru seems to be on the edge of losing it completely. Suguru can’t blame him, he literally knows nothing about his whole predicament.
“I’m being saved by true love, Satoru.” As he says it, he ventures a look down the rest of his body. All the vines and flowers have disappeared, leaving a bloody mess of stray petals and dirt. He can finally breathe, he notices. He feels delirious, but so much lighter, like he had been carrying bricks in his stomach this whole time and now he’s finally rid of them. “I think the curse is finally gone for good.”
They both turn their heads when they hear two pairs of footsteps running in their direction. Shoko and one of the school assistants are quickly approaching, kneeling down to look at them when they make it to their side.
“Jesus christ, guys, you’re taking years off my life with the shit you pull.” Shoko immediately lifts her hands to work on Suguru.
“Aw Shoko, you do care!” Satoru seems to finally be calming down but his voice shakes a bit underneath his usual unserious tone.
“Wait, Shoko, take care of Satoru first, he used up almost all of his cursed energy.” Suguru tries to sit up but is pulled back down to Satoru’s lap.
“Are you kidding me? You’ve lost so much blood, have several broken ribs, and it’s honestly a miracle your lungs are still together; there may be permanent damage but I can try to minimize it if I heal it right now.”
“So, is someone going to tell me what the fuck just happened??” Satoru is looking between the two of them waiting for answers.
“I think that should be between you guys. But it’s gonna have to wait, we’re taking you guys straight to the infirmary. And no, I will not hear any arguments.”
****
“Shoko filled me in on the basics, I kinda put the rest together. Why didn’t you tell me?” Satoru’s voice is soft but does not hide the hurt beneath it.
Suguru sighs and looks up at the ceiling of the infirmary, the fluorescent lights giving him nowhere to hide. “I didn’t want to hold you back,” he croaks out. “I didn’t want to be a burden, I didn’t want you to have to protect me.”
“We protect each other, Suguru, remember? We protect each other, damn it, how could you do this? How could you be so ready to give up your life for me?” Satoru chokes out the last few words with his eyes shut tight.
“I would do anything for you, Satoru, you know this. If dying is one of those things, the choice is easy.”
“But I don’t want you to!!!! I never asked you to. If you'd really do anything for me, then live by my side, allow me to protect you the same way you always protect me. We’re the strongest, together. My whole life I thought I was destined to always be alone. And then I met you and you kept up with me, you can give as good as you take, you stood by my side the way no one else ever has. I no longer have any interest in being the strongest alone, Suguru, I want you there.” Their eyes meet and Satoru places his hand atop Suguru’s, squeezing lightly.
“I’m really sorry, Satoru.” Suguru lifts his gaze to meet Satoru’s eyes and interlaces their fingers. A few stray tears adorn Satoru’s snow white eyelashes like morning dew.
“Never do this to me again, you have to promise. Promise me, Suguru.”
“I promise, Satoru.” Suguru brings their hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to Satoru’s knuckles. He’s rewarded with a small smile.
Satoru sits on the side of the bed to get closer to Suguru and brings a hand to cup his face gently. He’s inching closer, wide eyes looking vulnerable as he touches their foreheads together. Suguru’s breath hitches at the proximity. His brain feels like it’s running at a thousand miles a second but is simultaneously completely blank. All he can focus on is their shared breaths in this small space and the way Satoru is looking at him.
“By the way,” Satoru starts with a coy smile, “in case it wasn’t obvious…” he gets even closer, their lips almost touching, “I love you too.” He closes the space, their lips slotting together like two puzzle pieces. It feels like a warm cup of tea on a snowy day. Like the first sip of water after being too long out in the sun. Like everything comforting and good and warm. It feels like coming home.
Suguru presses forward, wanting to be rid of any space left between them. Satoru meets him in the middle, hands coming to rest on his cheeks so gently Suguru feels like he might just disintegrate. He brings his own hands to cup Satoru’s face, tilting it to deepen the kiss. Suguru kisses him slowly, deeply, savoring every second, drinking in Satoru’s scent and the warmth of his body. He wants Satoru’s air in his own lungs. He wants to ask him to open his ribcage so he can climb in and carve a space for himself in his chest. He wants to show him how much he means to him and do good on his promise of staying by his side.
They part and Suguru looks up at Satoru reverently; what he’s not expecting is to find the same awed look on Satoru’s face.
“Whoa.” Satoru blinks owlishly at him, blue eyes pinning him down where he’s sitting. He couldn’t look away if he tried.
“Yeah. Agreed,” Suguru mumbles.
“We should do that a lot more.”
Suguru nods enthusiastically.
“Glad to see you idiots figured it out,” Shoko’s voice comes from the door. She walks in and sits on Suguru’s other side of the bed. “I feel entitled to financial compensation for the stress you put me under, asshole.”
“I’m really sorry, Shoko. I don’t even know how to thank you for how many times you’ve saved my life.” Suguru looks up at her and holds her hand in one of his, squeezing gratefully.
“You can start by buying me ice cream and a new pack of cigarettes,” she gives him a lopsided smile and squeezes his hand back.
Suguru looks at his two best friends sitting in his hospital bed with him and feels his heart swell. Here’s two people that refused to give up on him, that showed him unconditional love when he might have not even deserved it. His face splits in a grin as he watches them argue over which ice cream parlor they should go to. Suguru takes a deep breath and feels happy to be here for the first time in a long time. He knows whatever happens, as long as they’re together, they’ll be okay.