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The constant dripping of the faucet was the only sound in the kitchen that remained shrouded in the midnight darkness. A man with snow-like hair and the brightest set of blue eyes sat at the table with papers strewn across it.
Satoru Gojo twisted an uncapped pen in his fingers over and over, as if waiting for the documents to magically sort themselves, relieving him of this headache. The report that had been submitted to him nearly a week ago had begun to annoy him. He had tried on three separate occasions to read through the entire seventy-five pages. The first time was the soft copy on his tablet that resulted in his left eye twitching, the telltale sign of his migraine that stayed for the whole afternoon. The second time, he was too distraught to read through the events of the incident on Christmas Eve. The third time, he’d left the charger somewhere. He took it as a sign to leave the work and get ice cream instead.
Finally, this time, he printed the documents out and set them on the table with a mug of piping hot tea. That was over half an hour ago, and the empty mug had been washed and put away along with the few plates that were in the sink.
He despised paperwork and technicalities. What was the point of discussing something when nothing could be done to reverse it? Why bother with writing reports upon reports only to have them collect dust in the archives? He admitted that a handful of times the archives at Jujutsu High were actually useful, but recording the incident that took place eleven days ago was just not something that he wanted to do.
Sighing, he gathered up the pages and shoved them into a large envelope. He would do it later when he had nothing else to do — an idea that he told himself was better than wanting to use the papers as a fire starter. Once the envelope was safe and secure in the drawer with all the plastic cutlery, packets of ketchup and soy sauce fish, he partially considered the problem to have been solved. Out of sight, it was easier to pretend that nothing was ever wrong in the first place.
Of course, that could not be said about everything.
He glanced at the clock that kept ticking away. At this late hour, he was bound to be asleep, right?
Feeling somewhat like a thief in his own house, he carefully trod through the kitchen and into the hallway. Reaching a door, he gingerly turned the knob. He peered inside the dimness, not needing the soft glow of the lamp on the bedside table inside to look, but it made his head feel better, nevertheless.
Strands of black hair were beginning to come out of the braid Satoru had done for him that afternoon. Bandages covered his torso before disappearing under the covers. Even though his face was hidden, Satoru knew he was awake. No matter how much Suguru Geto pretended to be asleep, pretending that he didn’t need help, Satoru still knew.
‘Suguru?’ He whispered, his voice coming out hoarse. He cleared his throat and tried again, ‘Need anything, Suguru?’
For some reason, Suguru’s name felt strange on his lips. Only a few days ago, Satoru had muttered his name over and over while looking down at his limp body when he carried Suguru to Shoko. He’d prayed then, not to let it be the last time he uttered the name while staring at the man.
Suguru twisted his head slightly to look at him, the movement making him wince. Satoru rushed forward but hesitated, unsure where to put his hands. The bandages seemed to become one with Suguru’s flesh. In the same breath, four limbs seemed to pierce through Suguru’s back, each of them with three clawlike fingers. The arms took on Suguru’s weight, helping him to adjust his posture and arrange the pillows behind him before disappearing.
‘I’m okay,’ Suguru grunted. Beads of sweat appeared across his forehead at the strain. Satoru glanced at the bandages covering what had been Suguru’s shoulder. They were still white.
‘Do you need any painkillers?’
‘It’s fine,’ Suguru insisted, just as the same curse picked up the meds in one hand and poured water from a bottle on the bedside table and brought it to his mouth.
Strangely aware of his looming frame in their bedroom, Satoru stared at his hands that had been reaching out to grab the glass right before the curse had managed to do so, ‘I will be out - ’
‘No.’
The murmur was so low that Satoru had to double-take, bringing himself only a few inches away from Suguru’s face.
‘What?’
‘I said no. Just sit down, right here.’ Suguru said softly but firmly, pointing with his chin towards the space next to him. ‘Just sit down, right here. Just because I can get the cursed spirits to do things for me doesn’t mean that I don’t need you. I see you, Satoru. I see you pretending that you are fine when I know you are breaking apart.’
Calloused fingers gently pushed the white fringes away from Satoru’s eyes, who tried unsuccessfully to go for one of his trademark flippant grins.
Careful not to put his weight anywhere near Suguru and yet still brushing his remaining arm against his own, Satoru sat. The mattress dipped under his weight. His hands found a crease in the fabric that he smoothed over before scrunching it again. Refusing to meet the deep purple eyes that were gently waiting for him, he whispered, ‘I almost lost you. You nearly died, and I couldn’t stop it.’
Suguru’s good arm pushed the covers over him, ‘Satoru, you weren’t even there.’
‘I should have been!’ Satoru said, guilt and anguish echoed in his voice.
‘Not everything can be in your control. You said that when we were young. What you say to me applies to you as well. And besides, I am here. So, I need you to be here with me.’
When Satoru did not reply, he asked, ‘Satoru? Please, look at me.’
The weight that had been living in his chest for the past few days seemed to decrease as a lone droplet made its way to his chin. ‘Okay.’
‘Good,’ Suguru patted his thigh, ‘Now come here.’
‘You are still recovering.’
‘I've only lost my arm, Toru,’ Suguru said, sounding more like himself. ‘My legs are fine, come here.’
‘Your whole body is covered in bandages from what Shoko couldn’t heal after she passed out,’ Satoru reminded him.
Suguru frowned, ‘I haven’t seen her in days. Is she alright?’
Head on Suguru's thigh, Satoru closed his eyes. ‘Worry about yourself first. And yes, she’s fine. She’s keeping the kids company at school.’
‘Bring them home, Satoru. It feels like years since I last saw them.’
Sighing, he turned, nuzzling his head against Suguru, ‘It’s my fault. They were already so upset, and you couldn’t move until a couple of days ago, so I thought it was best that they stayed at the dorms for a while.’
‘Even Gumi and Miki?’ Softly, Suguru ran his fingers through Satoru’s hair.
Nodding, he responded, ‘We all took a few things to the dorms when you were under Shoko’s care. Though I told the kids to stay there until you were slightly better. Just this morning, Megumi chewed me out for being an ass. And then he felt all bad because Miki yelled at him and the twins cried, then I felt bad because I was being an ass to the kids when all they wanted was to see you. But I was just so out of my mind. For the first time, I didn’t know what to do. All I could see when I closed my eyes was you half dead when I found you, and all I could think was that I didn’t know what to do without you.’
‘I am not going anywhere,’ Suguru said firmly, blinking to get tears out of his eyes. Suguru knew how he felt. He’d felt the same pain years ago when they were mere students. He remembered just how torturous those few hours had been when he’d thought that Satoru was gone.
Satoru laughed without mirth, ‘You can’t guarantee that. When I saw you lying there in the snow ... Suguru, do you know how much blood you lost? You didn't wake up for two whole days!’ His voice cracked. ‘You wouldn't wake up, and I just ... couldn't think. I couldn't breathe. I didn't know what to do. I just stood outside your room ... completely blank.’
Suguru's soothing fingers on his forehead seemed to spread warmth across his entire being.
‘And after you woke up, all I could think was, I don't know how to live without you. I can't do it. I can't imagine a world where you aren't breathing. The idea of it is so painful, and during those two days, it almost became possible. They are etched so clearly inside me that I keep getting swallowed by it.’
Gently, Suguru took Satoru's hand, bringing it to his neck. ‘Do feel that, Toru? Feel my pulse? I'm right here.’ He slowly moved it lower, so Satoru's palm was flat across his chest. Taking a deep breath, he continued. ‘Feel my heart beating? Yeah? When you feel like you are being swallowed again, feel my heartbeat. Touch me, and you'll know. I'm still here.’
Satoru nodded, bringing their joined hands to his lips to kiss Suguru’s wrist.
Suguru held him tighter, ‘I'm right here.’