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Normally, Nanami would abhor the thought of fast food for dinner. But it had been a long shift, with an excess of paperwork that left him clocking out late. By this point in the evening, he was so weary and irritated, he no longer cared. He pulled his jacket over his shoulders and wrapped a scarf around his neck to protect against the December cold. With a relieved sigh, Nanami exited his office for the last time that night, picking a nearby fast food joint out while he scrolled his phone.
It was a little late for dinner, but even at this time, the fast food joint was still bustling. Nanami headed towards the back of the line to begin his wait, but something caught his eye as he passed the seating area: the overhead lights reflecting off of a very familiar pair of round, blacked-out glasses.
Usually, Nanami would have recognized their owner and beelined for the nearest exit. But something about what he saw drew him in, and Nanami couldn’t help but wonder.
First, seeing Gojo in a fast food joint at this time, on a weekday, was a rare sight. Normally, if he wasn’t away on a mission, Gojo would be finishing up classwork and heading for school faculty meetings at this point in the evening.
Second, Gojo’s outfit struck Nanami with curiosity. It was nice-casual and weather appropriate: a fleece-lined leather jacket, a black turtleneck and black denim jeans. Nanami rarely saw him out of his uniform these days; what was he doing, all dressed up and all alone in a fast food joint?
The voice of reason in Nanami’s head was berating him, because without thinking, he found himself crossing the restaurant towards Gojo’s table.
Gojo was picking listlessly at a serving of fries– an unusual tendency, as Nanami frequently saw him interacting with food like a human vacuum cleaner. Between his constantly-running Reverse Cursed Technique and his frantic schedule, Nanami had never seen him take more than five minutes to eat a meal. But there Gojo sat, with a relatively full tray of food, staring at it like someone had poisoned it.
Something wasn’t right, Nanami concluded as he approached the seating booth.
“Gojo-san,” he greeted coolly.
Blinding blue flashed up at him, startled; if Nanami didn’t know better, he’d think Gojo had been surprised.
As if he’d walked onto the set of a sitcom, a blinding grin crossed Gojo’s face, so forced and cheesy it made Nanami cringe with it.
“Nanami-kun!” he chirped, sickeningly cheerful. “What are you doing here? I thought your tastes in cuisine were above joints like this.”
“They are,” Nanami rumbled, unamused. “It was just a very long shift. I don’t have it in me to cook tonight, and this restaurant happens to be on the way back to my apartment.”
Gojo’s nose crinkled at the factual reply, but Nanami didn’t care to humor him.
“Exciting,” the teacher drawled. His tone was significantly less cheerful this time.
Nanami took a mental note of that. It was unlike Gojo to be deterred in his antics whenever Nanami shot them down. A surrender this soon was so abnormal it was almost concerning to Nanami.
Almost.
Nanami decided to bounce the question back at him. “What are you doing here?”
“Ah,” Gojo sighed, swirling his drink around mindlessly. “I was supposed to meet Shoko at a restaurant down the street– a nicer one– but a student mission this evening went awry. She stayed behind at the school to care for the injured kids.”
Nanami raised a brow, bristling. “A mission went so badly that children were injured, yet you decided to hang back and eat fast food?”
Gojo scoffed, softly. “Of course not. As soon as Shoko let me know, I left the restaurant and teleported over. It only took a few minutes to clean up, but I forfeited my reservation by leaving– and that’s what brought me here.” He shrugged wide shoulders and took a bite out of the hamburger in front of him.
Nanami saw the tension in his jaw while he chewed. Something was definitely wrong.
Nanami had never really cared for how Gojo felt. The other man had never offered him the same courtesy as long as Nanami had known him– or, at least, not during the duration of their high school years. Nanami had only been back at Jujutsu Tech for a few months, and Gojo was so busy that Nanami never really saw him.
On any other day, Nanami would have left it at that and probably walked away; but today, something in him persisted.
“You don’t usually make the time to sit down and eat– much less at a fine dining spot. What’s the occasion?”
Gojo was fiddling with his straw. “Nothing, really. It doesn’t matter anymore, anyways.”
“If it didn’t matter,” Nanami asserted, “I wouldn’t ask.”
Gojo looked up at him. There was something in his eyes that Nanami couldn’t quite identify. Was he suspicious? Skeptical?
“Why does it matter?” Gojo finally bit back. “You’re not usually one to pry, Nanami.”
He was right, Nanami reasoned. Still, he couldn’t shake the sense that Gojo was withholding information.
Nanami sighed, heavily. He briefly unlocked his phone to check the time– and then stopped short when something caught his eye:
The date.
December 7th.
In his adult years, Nanami had never heard Gojo speak about his birthday. But he remembered sitting in the Jujutsu Tech cafeteria, sometime in late 2006, sharing a bench with Haibara. Gojo, Geto and Shoko had been sitting a couple of tables over, and Nanami could recall himself glowering as Gojo hollered out plans of grandeur for his birthday celebration. After lunch, he’d trotted up to Nanami and Haibara’s table, giving them a hand-written invite on notebook paper, before he bounded off after a departing Geto.
Haibara had been thrilled to go. Nanami went reluctantly, wishing to be asleep in his dorm rather than subjecting himself to Gojo's antics. But still-- he didn’t forget the day.
December 7th.
If Gojo noticed the subtle way Nanami’s eyes widened behind his glasses, he didn’t say.
Without invitation, Nanami slid into the booth seat opposite Gojo. Gojo’s brow creased suspiciously, but he didn’t reject Nanami’s approach.
“What do you recommend?”
“Huh?” Gojo said it in such a way that was extremely obnoxious to Nanami. Nanami wanted to smack him for it, but he restrained himself– it was Gojo’s birthday, after all.
“The food; what do you recommend?”
Gojo leaned back in his seat and guffawed cynically. “Nanami, it’s a fast food joint. It’s all slop to you, is it not?”
“No.” Nanami replied firmly. He looked over his glasses and met Gojo’s eyes. “Not today.”
Silence hung between them for several moments, but the way Gojo’s eyes widened incrementally said it all.
He’d understood.
Nanami remembered.
Warmth bloomed in Gojo’s face like Nanami had never seen before. He took quiet notice of the smile lines that gathered beneath Gojo’s eyes, and the way that gentle crows feet creased that otherwise-unblemished complexion.
His eyes practically sparkled.
Nanami’s chest felt warm. He swallowed around the strange sensation in his throat and the sudden influx of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. He’d have to address those feelings later; right now, for the first time in his life, Nanami wanted things to be about Gojo.
The aforementioned man was staring at him, smiling so genuinely that Nanami felt he might melt under the brightness of his gaze.
“Do you want to eat somewhere a little nicer?” Gojo offered softly. “There’s this ramen place a few blocks over that I’ve been meaning to try.”
Nanami smiled back at him.
“That sounds great.”
Gojo stood up decidedly, taking his tray of untouched food and marching it over to the nearest trash. He dumped the contents and then placed the tray aside, turning to Nanami and beckoning him over.
“I’ll call us a cab.”
“Do you want to walk?” Nanami glanced out the window. Light snow had just begun to fall, coating the street in a soft blanket of white. “It’s a nice night for a walk.”
Gojo peered out the window after him. Nanami could see him thinking, contemplating quietly. Finally, he looked back up at him with an expression that Nanami could only describe as tender.
“I’d like that very much.”
End.