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Just out of reach, just barely illuminated by dying streetlights, in the corner of Gojo’s eye. He was always there, reflected in mirrors but gone before Gojo could look any closer.
“Sensei?” Yuta tapped Gojo’s arm.
“What is it?” Gojo looked down at Yuta, smiling softly at the young boy’s attempt to reach the top shelf.
“Can you pick me up?” Yuta begged.
“Of course.” Gojo lifted the kid to his shoulder, expecting him to reach for something. To his surprise, the little boy just curled into him and closed his eyes. “Tired, huh?” Gojo softly swept some of Yuta’s hair from his face.
He had never expected to be taking care of a child so young, let alone 3. Megumi and Tsumiki could stay home alone for a few hours but not Yuta. He was too new, too young. He seemed like he thought Gojo was going to abandon him at every turn.
Gojo never thought he’d be alone. His one and only should’ve still been by his side, helping him along the way. He knew that Getou could take care of the children better than he could, especially Yuta. He was older than Megumi and younger than Tsumiki, but he seemed to have developed differently from them. He was constantly shivering, a ball of nervous energy and tears. It didn’t help that he was so small that strangers would whisper in passing “Is he feeding that kid?”
Getou would’ve known what to do. He would’ve taken the reins and been in control the second he realized something was wrong. Gojo had not, which was why he was at the convenience store in the middle of the night buying medicine for the youngest of his little family.
Despite all the affection Yuta offered, all the attention Tsumiki gave him, and all the snarky remarks Megumi provided, Gojo couldn’t shake away the loneliness.
He paused when he reached the counter, the woman’s long, raven hair stunning him for a moment. Deep down, he knew none of the people who made him pause and look back were Getou. His blue spring was over, and his best friend was gone. That didn’t make the pain any less. For a moment, he was seeing double. He saw the cashier as she was, a young woman he would never see again, and Getou. He was mixed with her, barely to the left and not clear enough to view.
“I said your total will be $15.” The woman coughed to get his attention.
“Oh, right, sorry.” Gojo shook his head and pulled his wallet out, slamming the cash down harder than he had anticipated. “Thank you.”
“Your kid’s drooling.” She called when Gojo was halfway out the door. Something about Yuta being called ‘his’ kid tightened a screw in Gojo’s chest. He was tiny, seemingly fragile enough to break apart with just a touch. How was he expected to take care of someone so little?
He left the store with a kid in one arm and a bag of medication in the other, unsure of what to do with either of them.