Chapter Text
5:00 am
Reo Mikage wakes up to the song blaring from his phone speakers. It used to be his favourite. It just makes him feel empty now. Numb, with a kind of ache echoing through his core.
5:15 am
Reo usually does his morning workout right about now, but there’s no point anymore. He stares out the window for an hour instead.
6:15 am
Reo takes a shower. He doesn’t bother with all his fancy products anymore. The pungent, minty 3-in-1 makes his eyes sting and head throb, but these days, he’s lucky to feel anything at all.
6:45 am
This is usually when Reo checks his business emails and might squeeze in a quick meeting. Not today. There’s no point anymore.
7:30 am
Reo never skips breakfast. He knows how important it is to stay fueled, for an athlete and for a businessman. Today is different, though. There’s no point anymore.
8:00 am
Reo leaves the house, passing his father on the way to the entrance. His father gives him a look that is full of contempt, but Reo doesn’t react. Ba-ya drives him to school as usual. When she asks how he’s doing, the smooth replies that come out of his mouth are almost completely automated.
-----
4:00 pm
In his entire career as a school athlete, Reo has never skipped a practice. Today, he walks straight past the field, school bag tucked under his arm. It’s a long walk, but he knows where he’s going. Ba-ya is probably tracking his location. He crushes his cell phone under his feet.
5:00 pm
The stinging in Reo’s fingers barely registers. It’s cold out, and he’s only in his school uniform. He’s probably a miserable sight, trudging through the layers of snow that crunch under his feet.
5:30 pm
Reo arrives at his location, almost slipping as he climbs the bridge. The drop is a little shorter than he remembers, but the water and cold will definitely kill him anyway. He surveys the edge, frozen fingers ghosting his uniform jacket. Should he take it off? Nah, he’ll probably drown more effectively if he keeps it on.
He reaches for the slip of paper in his pocket. The suicide note he wrote four months ago. It’s tearstained, he thinks with faint amusement. He hasn’t really been able to cry at all lately. A humourless chuckle escapes his chapped lips. He shreds up the note. It’s cringeworthy and irrelevant anyway, written from a time when he could still feel.
He takes a breath and steps up onto the railing, exhaling a little white cloud in the frigid air. It’s quiet enough that he can hear the churning of the black water under his feet. The sight of it beneath him makes an involuntary shiver run through his body. Finally. If he could still cry, he’d probably let loose a couple of tears of relief. He closes his eyes.
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“Hey!” an unfamiliar voice echoes through the air, breaking the calm silence of Reo’s would-be final moments. Reo’s eyes open suddenly, quick, desperate footsteps crunching through the snow towards him.
Anger surges through him, stronger than anything he’s felt in the past few weeks.
“Don’t come any closer!”
The footsteps cease.
“Hey– kid. I’m not trying to scare you. Let’s just take a second to think this through, yeah?”
The man is trying to sound easygoing, but the worry in his voice is as clear as day.
Reo turns his head, the emotions fading away just as quickly as they had come.
“I’ve been thinking this through for eight months,” he says quietly. “I’d appreciate it if you just let me go.”
The man takes another step forward, hands raised in surrender. Reo gets a closer look at him. He’s young, doesn’t look much older than Reo himself, but he’s dressed in a paramedic’s uniform. His most shocking feature is his hair. It’s bright white, even whiter than the snow falling around him, dusting his shoulders. By his feet is a plastic shopping bag full of cheap convenience-store snacks. It lies abandoned in the snow, colourful packages peeking out.
“Woah– just wait a sec, kid. Take a step back and talk me through this,” the man begs, voice sincere and palms upturned.
“There’s nothing to say. I’m done,” Reo whispers into the night.
“Wait–!”
Reo lets go of the edge.
The wind rushes past him as he pitches forward.
Finally.
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THUMP!
Reo doesn’t know what happened, but suddenly he’s back on the bridge, the stranger holding him, breathing hard.
“Shit, kid–”
No. No, no no, no, no, no.
“FUCK!” Reo screams, pure, undiluted anger coursing through him. “FUCK YOU! I HATE YOU!”
His voice is cracking, and if he had enough control to think, he would see how pathetic he looked in that moment.
“I’m sorry,” the man says softly, not letting go of Reo’s flailing arm.
“LIKE HELL YOU ARE! I HATE YOU SO MUCH, FUCK!”
His voice is hoarse, desperate.
“FUCK YOU! FUCKING LET GO OF ME! I FUCKING HATE YOU!”
“It’s okay.”
“I- AUGHH! FUCK!”
The paramedic’s hand remains on his shoulder, grounding him. Eventually, Reo’s screams finally fade, echoing through the air. His whole body trembles. Fuck, he thinks weakly, raising a trembling hand to his face. I’m crying.
-----
The two of them stay sitting in the snow for what feels like an eternity, silence hanging between them, save for Reo’s quiet sobs.
Reo finally glances up at the man, who is staring right back at him with eyes that are an unnatural shade of electric blue. Gojo, he says to himself, eyes tracing the name stitched into the man’s uniform.
Gojo finally breaks the silence, clearing his throat.
“So… now that that’s all happened, mind telling me your name?”
“Reo. Mikage.”
“Ohhh,” the man suppresses a wince. “I see.”
Reo wants to tell the man that he doesn’t understand shit, but he’s cold and exhausted, and his uniform is wet with snow. He simply nods instead.
The man stands up, brushing the snow off his pants, offering Reo a hand. His fingers are pink with cold.
“Nice to meet you, Reo. I’m Gojo Satoru.”
Reo takes his hand, giving it a weak shake. Nothing like the firm grip his father had drilled into him after dozens of business meetings. Gojo clasps his hand and hauls him to his feet smoothly. Reo shivers pathetically, the adrenaline from the whole ordeal wearing off. What the hell just happened?
Gojo notices the younger boy’s discomfort, stripping off his thin paramedic jacket and draping it around Reo’s shoulders.
“Uh– that won’t be necessary,” Reo sniffs, but Gojo ignores him, retracing his steps to pick up the spilled bag of snacks nearby.
“Would you like some snacks?” Gojo appears in front of him suddenly, waving the plastic bag.
“I’m fine, thanks. I think I’d better be heading back home,” Reo replies automatically, before realizing what he had just said. Head back home? Is that even an option? He hadn’t taken into account the fact that he might not be dead before the end of the day. Much to his dismay, the tears returned, leaving stinging trails down his frozen cheeks. I’m really pathetic.
“Hey, uh, kid. I think you should head to my place and clean up a little, yeah?” Gojo scratches the back of his neck awkwardly.
My parents will be looking for me, he tries to say.
He only manages to choke out the first two words before breaking down. His breath catches in his throat, agony lancing through his chest. He’d all but forgotten what it was like to feel. It hurts.
-----
“Don’t you dare antagonize us, Reo,” his father spat venomously. “After all we’ve done for you, and you can’t even pretend to be grateful? Maybe you weren’t meant to be in this family after all. You disgust me.”
“Reo, you know you can’t be this selfish. You have a role in this household, and you’re expected to follow it.” His mother looks at him with contempt.
“I know, and I’m sorry,” Reo’s voice cracks. “But I’m trying my best, and is that not enough?”
“What the hell, Reo. You know this isn’t your best. You’re a manipulative brat, and I don’t know why I invested so much time in raising such a wretched child,” his father all but snarls.
CRACK!
Reo’s cheek stings.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’ll do better.”
CRACK!
“You’re fucking sorry? You fucking should be, you fucking idiot. Why can’t you just do what you’re fucking told?”
CRACK!
“You better fucking do better, or you’ll deserve what’s coming to you.”
Reo’s eyes blur with tears. What more do they want from him? He comes home with perfect grades. He attends every business meeting with a perfect smile. He excels at his daily lessons of piano and violin. He’s just so tired. So very tired.
-----
The memory fades, leaving Reo sobbing pathetically into his hands. Gojo’s hand rhythmically traces circles on his back.
“I’m sorry,” Gojo whispers.
They stay like that for a while before Gojo finally speaks up.
“I really don’t think we should stay out in the cold any longer, yeah? Follow me.”
Reo realizes he’s quite possibly being kidnapped, but he’s far exceeded his emotional and mental capacity for the day, and is left feeling empty again, but somehow different. The ache is sharper, but the numbness is slightly dulled. He’s so tired.
He finds himself led through the park and a couple of blocks away.
When they arrive at the house, it’s nicer than Reo expected. Obviously, it isn’t Mikage Corp, but it has a modern design and a clean finish. Gojo inserts the keys, and Reo relaxes at the burst of warm air that greets him when he steps inside. He also starts crying. Again. So much for losing the ability to cry, he thinks miserably.
Gojo steers him into the kitchen and presses a hot cup of tea into his hands. How the man has an instant supply of boiling water, Reo will never know.
“Why are you doing this?” Reo manages to choke out through his tears. He doesn’t even know what he’s crying about anymore. He’s just tired.
The white-haired man hesitates, thinking about it for a moment.
“I just want you to be okay,”
That doesn’t make much sense to him, but he’ll accept it for now.