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Geto Suguru died on December 24th.
In technical terms, Gojo Satoru lived.
The true extent of the matter is that a part of Satoru died that day too. As he stood in front of buildings that contained long forgotten echoed laughter of their youth, his six eyes felt the way Suguru's life slowly slipped away. When his last breath fell and his chest stilled, Satoru felt himself slip away too.
He'd like to say he doesn't know how long he stood there, but again his senses tracked every single second that passed. He'd like to say he held onto some stupid hope that Suguru would open his eyes once more and share a smile with him, but he knew the exact moment Suguru's life was snuffed out. He knew that Suguru's blood would stain his hands, and that would be the last sensation he'd ever feel from the man.
Slowly he approached, and slowly he sunk to his knees.
He couldn't trick himself into thinking Suguru was sleeping. He knew what it was like when Suguru slept. He knew the steady breaths and passive expression that would always accompany the sleeping form of Suguru back in school. He knew none of that was to be found in the crumpled form of the man in front of him.
But maybe, just for once, Satoru could let himself believe. With gentle hands Satoru pulled the cooling limp body towards him. He wrapped his arms around the man and embraced him. As Suguru's head limpy fell into the crook of Satoru's neck, Satoru let his hand begin to gently thread through the man's hair. Long black locks he was once so familar with curled into his fingers. And as Satoru rested his head atop Suguru's, he imagined a world where the body in his arms was still warm and full of life.
A world where Suguru would chide him for being so clingy near his wounded arm but still let himself be cradled in Satoru's embrace.
A world where the name Geto Suguru was one that didn't strike fear in his student's hearts, but instead was a regular in their lives.
He had pondered for years what could've gone differently, what future would've been the best, what actions would have led to Suguru staying. Now none of that mattered. He couldn't bring himself to care what type of world it would be for him to hold Suguru once more. He simply wanted it to exist.
And as the want for that crashed into him, Satoru felt a tear fall. He felt like his heart was being torn open in his chest, his lungs held in a feirce clawed grip, and his throat full of greif filed lumps causing his breaths to stutter.
His hold around Suguru tightened, his hand in Suguru's hair pulled the man's head farther into his neck, and Satoru cried.
Gojo Satoru, the strongest jujutsu sorcerer, cried.
He knelt on cobbled ground, with the dead body of his one and only in his arms, and he cried.
And alongside Geto Suguru, a part of Gojo Satoru died.