Work Text:
Suguru is siting in his office sorting through some papers when it happens.
He’s been slaving over desk work for hours, just to be interrupted by a phone call only a few minutes before he’s finished. It’s late in the evening, far past Nanako and Mimiko’s bedtime, so his first guess is that one of the curse users he hired is calling back after a mission. The curse he ate this morning sits heavy in his stomach, his mouth tasting of spearmint thanks to the extensive teeth cleaning routine Mimiko helped him start. Really, it’s just not a good time for a phone call, and his people should know that.
Maybe it’s an emergency?
His back straightens when that possibility pops up in his head, tired eyes scanning the desk for the source of the noise. It isn’t until he sees his regular phone that he realizes, it’s not coming from his desk, the muffled sound eventually leading him deep inside the many drawers of his fancy mahogany dresser.
His old phone.
Who on earth would be calling this phone? As far as he knows, nobody should know this phone number.
Unless…
At this point, the only thing keeping him on going is pure curiosity. It coming from the old flip phone he received his second year at Jujutsu Tech. If he’s counting correctly, it’s been about a year since he left, though it feels like it’s been a lifetime.
Actually finding the phone takes a second, tired hands forced to sort through a pile of junk that’s been slowly accumulating over the months. He holds his breath when his fingers make contact, hands slowly pulling out the still ringing phone and answering it before he has time to look at the name, fully aware that any more information will probably make him chicken out.
He takes a quick look at the caller ID before putting it up to his ear, grimacing when he sees the name of his ex best friend. Of all people, it just had to be the one who probably hates him the most. Why on earth would Sato- Gojo be calling him at… eleven in the evening?
There’s no talking at first, just the sound of wind and the occasional car driving past. For a second, he wonders if it was a mistake, what Nanako would call a ‘but dial’, but the second he looks at the call log that option is thrown out the window.
Ever Sunday.
Gojo calls him every Sunday at eleven pm without fail.
Now that he thinks about it, he’s never in office this late on Sunday. He spends every Sunday with his girls, doing face masks and watching a Disney movie until the early morning.
But, today’s Saturday? What’s different about today?
“Hey again.” His train of thought is halted when he hears Satoru’s voice, a chill running down his spine at how dead it sounds.
That’s… not what Satoru sounds like… right?
“You know, I kinda wondered if you’d pick up this time. Wishful thinking I guess… Doesn’t hurt to try though right? haha…” Something akin to concern starts to bubble up in Suguru’s chest, the sound of old friend’s voice digging into the fading wound that Satoru’s hate created.
But why is Satoru calling him like this if he hates him? It doesn’t make sense…
“I- um…” Is he… crying? “haha- ah… wh-who knows! Maybe you’ll find this message later. I dunno if I want that…” Then why is he calling?
Half of Suguru wants to start talking, wants to ask questions and demand answers. The other half wants to listen, to figure out what on earth Satoru planned to do with this phone call.
The second half wins out.
“I know I usually call on Sunday… but today's special right?” Is it? “One year. It’s been exactly one year since that stupid argument.” Suguru rubs at his chest, the concern only growing with each word spoken through the speaker. This isn’t the sound of hatred. This is the sound of desperation, of longing. Why does Satoru sound like he misses him?
“The sky’s really pretty tonight.” Is it? He takes a quick glance outside, eyes scanning the starry sky and calmly agreeing with Satoru’s judgment. It is a rather beautiful scene.
“It’s perfect.”
The words sound airy, soft, like they were meant to be a whisper. A secret.
Maybe they were.
“You know, for all the times I’ve thought about it, this is my first time actually trying.” Trying what? “I just- I didn’t want to leave Megumi behind…” Who’s Megumi? “but I can’t- ha- I can’t take it any-anymore. I can’t see myself doing this any longer.”
Suguru shifts, looking at the phone in his hand with a furrowed brow, trying to make sense of Gojo’s babbling. Leave him behind? Can’t do what any longer? Nothing makes sense, this isn’t how Satoru sounds, he doesn’t sound broken. He… he sound’s like child, like an immature teenager, not like this.
“I made Yaga promise, Megumi will be safe. The Zen’in family won’t get him. He’ll grow strong, he’ll, he’ll… He’ll never forgive me.” The way he’s talking, it can’t be- “It’s so pretty out here. I’ll finally be free, I can finally rest.” No, it can’t be, there’s no way-
“Goodbye, Suguru. I love you.” No no no
“Gojo?” No answer, “Gojo! GOJO!!” Shit shit shit, “SATORU, Satoru I swear to god, SATORU!?!?”
“Su-Suguru?” He nearly collapses from relief, almost missing the chocked sob that follows his name. “Is that- is that you?”
“Yes, yes, it’s me. I’m here.” He’s moving before Satoru can say another word, rushing outside and releasing one of the curses he can fly on.
“No. No no- hic-, no, you’re not sup -hic- supposed to- how long?” The shard of concern shoves itself deeper into his chest, each sob and hiccup cutting away at the remaining animosity clinging to his throat.
“That’s not important. I need you tell me where you are, okay? Can you do that for me?” The sound of unsteady breathing echoes through the phone, each inhale shakier than the last.
“I-I, You can’t, you- I can’t-” Suguru tries to think of where he could be, tries to remember all the places they would go together. Is he on a building? A bridge? “They’ll make me, no, I can’t fight, please don’t make me fight.” It feels like something inside him is dying, like the pain in Satoru’s voice is shoving a knife into his chest.
“You don’t need to fight, I promise. Just tell me where you are.” He listens closely, waiting for Satoru to respond, the onlysound coming through the speaker being the occasional hiccup and sob, each one digging the shard deeper. He waits, sitting on his pelican curse, sits and waits for a response.
“The… The Kurasawa Bridge. I’m… I’m over the Kurasawa Bridge.” Suguru is in the air the second he has a location, steering the curse towards the familiar bridge. It’s one they used to hang out under when life became too much. It used to be a safe haven.
Now it’s just the tallest bridge in Tokyo.
“I’m on my way, you need to wait for me. Uh, uhm, Megumi, tell me about Megumi.” He just needs to distract Satoru for five minutes, he can get there in five minutes, please wait five minutes
“Uh… He’s, doing okay. He uh, he got into another fight yesterday… I- I told him he shouldn’t beat up people like that and he said I wasn’t his dad and… I couldn’t get him to talk to me this morning. I didn’t know what to do so I just left. Do you think he’ll forgive me when I’m gone?” Shit, this isn’t helping.
“That’s not going to happen Satoru, you’ll see him tomorrow and you can talk to him and-“
“No… I’m going to die tonight.” Shit, shit shit- Not good not good not good.
“Satoru, I swear to god don’t you fucking dare jump. Just four minutes, please just wait four minutes.” He knows his voice is shaking, knows he’s on the verge of breaking down, but it doesn’t matter. Every second he hears Satoru’s broken voice just brings back more memories, images of when they were friends, of when Satoru called them the strongest. How did he push all this down? How did he forget the pain of leaving Satoru behind?
“I can’t, Suguru. I can’t do this anymore.” He’s not crying anymore, voice light and airy like he isn’t really there. “I’m so tired. So tired.” What does he say? How can he fix this?
Can he fix this?
“I know Satoru, I know. I know what it’s like, I’ve been there before, I get it, but please, please wait for me.” God he’s begging, and at this point he doesn’t fucking care.
…
“I, I’ll wait.” Oh thank heavens.
“Okay, I’m almost there, I’m almost there.” He tries to push the curse faster, clutching on for dear life as the wind whips at his face. He can’t think about what could have happened, what would have happened, just that he needs to go faster.
“I’m almost there-” There! He can see it! Right over that ridge, and, and, shit, Satoru, too close to the edge. “I’m here! I’m here-” The curse lands with a thud right next to the bridge, leaning down so he can jump off easily. Satoru doesn’t look his way, staring at the ledge, swaying in the wind.
“I’m here! Oh god, Satoru.” He runs forwards, grabbing Satoru by the arm and pulling him away from the edge, their phones falling on the ground. Satoru grunts, looking at him in surprise as Suguru’s hands flutter over his body, making sure he’s okay.
“Oh. You’re real.” God, he’s really out of it, blue eye’s hazed over and mouth parted ever so slightly.
“Yes, yes, I’m real, I’m right here.” Shit, he’s almost completely gone.
“I, I thought I was imagining you again. Am I imagining you?” Again? God, how did it get this bad?
“No, no, I’m here. Come on, feel my fingers, I’m here.” He lifts his hand, gently stroking Satoru’s cheek, wiping away the moisture that lingers there. Satoru lets out an uneven sigh, leaning into the touch, closing his blue eyes as he relaxes likes he’s been starved for touch his whole life. Knowing him, he probably was.
“There you go, it’ll be okay now, I’m here.” He goes to pull Satoru into a hug, stroking white hair, whispering reassurances into his ear. That was too close, that was way too close, god how was it that close? Ieiri, Yaga, why weren’t they here? Why didn’t they help Satoru?
…
Why is he asking that?
They didn’t help when he was going through the same thing, didn’t even notice. Is that what happened here? Did Satoru just act like everything was fine? God, Satoru is so thin. He’s always been thin, but this is just ridiculous, how did no one notice? Why did he leave Satoru behind? To help him? To keep him away from harm? Suguru can’t remember anymore, can’t remember why he left behind his best friend to a group of people who he knew would use him like a weapon.
He knew that, and he still left him. Does that make him just as bad? Oh god, it does, doesn’t it? He left Satoru to be used like some heartless, stupid, stubborn-
Satoru shifts in his hold, tensing, pulling away. No, wait, come back, don’t leave.
“I can’t. I can’t do this.” Satoru takes a step back, a step towards the edge, panic filling Suguru’s chest once again. If Satoru tries to jump, will he be able to stop him? Will he be strong enough? He doesn’t know.
“Why, why not?” God, what can he do?
“You, believe things. I can’t do this, you need to leave-”
“It doesn’t matter what I believe! You’re a sorcerer, I’m a sorcerer, we love-!”
“YOU WOULD KILL MY DAUGHTER!”
…
…
“What?”
“My daughter, she’s not a sorcerer, and you would kill her because of the way she was born!”Shit. That’s… How does he respond to that?
“I won’t kill your dau-”
“But you would have! If you didn’t know who she was, you would have killed her without a second thought!” Fresh tears streak down Satoru’s face, expression full of anger and pain. “You don’t care that she has a family, that she has a life. You just care that some non existent god decided she isn’t allowed to see monsters!”
Satoru’s anger fades just as fast as it came, thin shoulders, much, much too thin shoulders drooping in defeat. “I, I can’t do this, not anymore.” The panic in Suguru’s chest builds every time Satoru takes a step closer to the ledge, the fear that he won’t be able to fix this making it hard to speak.
“I, I understand. And we can work on that, together. Just, work with me, teach me, I promise I’ll listen!” It’s a blatant lie, a desperate one, a last ditch effort to keep everything from falling apart. But it’s already fallen apart, it’s already broken, and god he doesn’t know how to fix it.
“No, no you wouldn’t. Please, leave. I shouldn’t have called you in the first place, I never should have called you.” No, no no no no. He’s too close to the edge, shit, he’s too close.
“Satoru, please don’t do this. Please, work with me here-” Another step back.
“I can’t.” Another step.
“Shit, Satoru, I’ll try, I’ll work on it, I promise-” Another step
“I’m sorry, Suguru.” And, he, tips.
Suguru dashes forwards, panic fueling his lungs, reaching out, grabbing blindly. At the last second, his hand wraps around a bony wrist, slipping through infinity like it isn’t even there, arm suddenly straining to hold on, to keep Satoru from tipping all the way over.
“SHIT! Fuck, no, Satoru-” He looks into blue eyes, pleading, begging him to stay.
“Let me go-”
“NO! I am not letting you go goddammit. You are NOT dying, I swear to GOD!” He sounds pathetic, he doesn’t care.
“Suguru. Please let me fall.” There’s something in his eyes, something dead, something lost long ago, but like hell is he letting go. He’s hanging on for as long as Satoru lets him, for as long as Infinity parts its waves for him. He’s scared to pull him back, terrified that any movement will make him slip away.
“Satoru, listen to me, look me in the eye. I promise we can work things out, I promise we can find a path, just please! Come back!”
Suddenly, Satoru hesitates, expression turning conflicted. He looks at Suguru’s hand, then up at the stars, then down at the ravine. Suguru holds his breath, gripping that bony wrist with all his life, praying to anyone out there that Satoru will come back.
There’s only one more thing he could say, one thing that might work, a phrase that’s hung between them for what feels like forever.
“Satoru.” Blue eyes look back at him, a troubled frown on his face, wrinkles on his brow. “I love you.”
…
…
The first tear Satoru sheds sends a dagger through Suguru’s heart, the second only wedging it deeper. He can feel tears of his own slip out before everything comes crashing down because Satoru comes back. He leans forward, falls into Suguru’s embrace, sobs filling the empty air as they hold eachother.
“Oh god, thank you god.” He pulls Satoru in impossibly close, still crying, still struggling to breath from how close Satoru got to dying.
“We’ll figure this out, together, we’ll figure this out.” One of his hands comes up to thread through soft white strands, other arm wrapped around Satoru like a vice, not daring to let go. “We’ll figure this out, I swear it. I love you, I love you, I love you.
I swear it.”