Chapter Text
You told yourself that you would quit. Especially after the last time. Especially ever since the formation of your horrifically dry mouth and your ex’s cruel, gleaming eyes, the harsh curve of his lips, encouraging you to take more and more and more.
You would quit. You really would. It was just this one time. Only one more time.
That seemed inconsequential in the grand scheme of things, right? You were but one college girl in a world of abstract lives and hearts; how much weight did your flimsy control hold, anyway? In twenty years’ time, you would look back on this moment of weakness and laugh; it would be a funny tale to regale your grandkids about– how their grandmother was as wild and reckless as those sappy songs.
But, unlike those songs, there was nobody to come save you. Save you from what? You didn’t need saving. Your life was yours and yours only, and that stupid fucking powder was not an addiction– it was a freedom, a choice. You could quit. You would quit.
Just… tomorrow.
“Mai,” the name came out slurred; a desperate plea as you clutched onto your roommate’s arm, practically a deadweight as she tried to haul you off of her. “Mai, please. Twenty dollars. Ah, ten! Please, Mai.”
“Y/N, what the fuck?” The look in her eyes was unbearable; those dark irises seemed to delve into your own, blazing arrows of disgust and shock as they pierced into your enlarged irises, the bloodshot veins tinting your eyes a manic red. “You’re shaking. Absolutely not. And you still owe me the fifty from last month!”
“Please, Mai,” you coaxed, fingers digging into her bare arm. She was going out; it was clear by the denim, small miniskirt she wore, the glitter sparkled across her done-up features. You could hardly appreciate her beauty; whatever confused lust that you used to face whenever she got ready was long gone, replaced by hunger. But you didn’t have an appetite for skin or sex or touches. No, the urge for reprieve, for the serenity of bliss, clawed at your insides, reducing them to damaged, scratched things.
Just this once. Just this once.
“I’ve got rent for the next week. I… I’ve got chores. Please, Mai. I’ll be your fucking guinea pig.”
“Get off of me!” She shook herself out of your grip, massaging her forearm. It was then that you saw the blossoming marks on her pale skin; you had gripped her hard enough to, most probably, bruise.
That’s just because she’s being a bitch. You wouldn’t be begging this hard around anybody else. That’s it.
“God, Y/N.” She spat, taking a cautious step back, her heels clicking with the action. “I can’t deal with this right now. Gojo invited me, personally, to this shit. I’m not up for… whatever the fuck you’re doing right now. I’m not giving you money again until you pay me back.”
“Then take me with you.” You were practically a dog, jumping at the slightest bit of hope, excitement blossoming across your face. “Please. It’s Gojo’s party, right? They’ll have the good shit there. Please.”
“Absolutely not!” Mai looked genuinely offended as she shook her head. “Look at the state of you! I’m not bringing you anywhere with me, especially not one of Gojo’s parties.”
“Come on,” you folded your hands together in a show of obscurity. “I’ll clean myself up. Flirt around and be discreet. They won’t be mad about another hardly dressed, young woman showing up, would they? We’re, like, their whole audience!”
Mai considered you for a moment, biting into the inner skin of her cheek. She waited, before blowing out a frustrated breath. “Thirty minutes, and then I’ll leave without you.”
You held back a squeal and you jumped, running across your apartment to your room. “I’ll make it twenty!”
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Turns out, under the opportunity of a fix, you could muster a full face of makeup and styled hair in twenty-five minutes. It was under Mai’s insistence, and Mai’s insistence only, that you put on a mildly similar outfit to hers– instead, your denim skirt was black and even smaller, though your legs were covered (until the knee, at least), by a pair of killer, heeled boots. Honestly, you would’ve walked in there naked if it meant that you got your stuff.
Not that you were addicted or anything. It was just mindless to resist something that you knew you would refuse in the future. Mai called it ‘druggie logic,’ and you called her a whore– until she threatened to kick you out of the car, and you had to silently bounce in excitement whilst in her passenger seat. She had ended up lending you the money– a twenty, since you wouldn’t stop pestering her.
Though, as the car pulled up to the large house, it seemed clear that they probably had the fancy shit there.
The structure was practically shaking, music and strobe lights pounding from inside of the windows. There was toilet paper draped over a tree in the front yard, bottles and people strewn out in the front lawn, and a line of people practically winding around the house. The sight made you itch. You just wanted to barge inside and demand anything– pills, powder, fucking secondhand smoke– but you were already on thin ice with Mai, so you disguised your agitation with a roll of your glittered eyes.
“Mai,” you whined as you two got out of her car, “our legs are gonna fall off in that line. There is no way we’re getting past that before an hour.”
Thankfully, she took the bait, pridefully puffing out her chest. “I told you; Gojo asked me specifically. We got on the priority list.”
You tried not to scoff at the concept of a priority list at a frat party, especially since you were eternally grateful for it. Instead, you just followed her as you two walked past the line, receiving an onslaught of whistles and protests as you did.
You didn’t care. You didn’t care what people thought as long as you got inside of that goddamn house.
“How did that happen, anyway?” You hummed, twisting your hands behind your back– it was more out of anxiety than boredom, but you’d be damned if you let her know that. “Thought he was, like, some sort of god.”
“He is.” She shot you a wide-eyed glance. “God, filthy rich and handsome as sin. Rumor has it that he’s slept with half of the female professors here. Some male ones, too. It’s likely; him and Geto are glued to the hip. They do everything together.” She dropped her voice, giving you an exaggerated drag of her lip between her teeth. “Everything.”
You tried your best to give her an enthusiastic, mischievous grin, even as you realized she was just worshipping a pair of manwhores. But, hey, everyone to their own. You were literally shaking for some deadly chemicals from a stranger; hardly a position to judge.
“‘Scuse me,” Mai tipped her chin up, cutting the security at the door– a group of muscled, retired frats, probably– before they could speak. “Gojo invited me. She’s my plus one. Here.” She practically shoved her phone– and the text that Gojo had sent her– into their faces; though, judging by the bored expressions on their faces, they hardly cared enough to check.
Except for one of them, though. He was tall and impossibly jacked; though, the masculine handsomeness of his face was undeniable, even with the harsh scar cutting from the corner of his mouth to his jaw. “Dunno, girl. You know how y’all can be– faking texts and whatnot.” He paused, raising an eyebrow down at the both of you. “Y’know, I can overlook it for a bit of cash–”
“Toji.” One of them cut in, frowning at the large man. “Stop prying for money.”
“Whatever.” You two were waved inside, and immediately absorbed into the cacophony that was a college party– specifically, one of Satoru Gojo’s parties.
You couldn’t hear your own voice, let alone the insistent pounding of your heartbeat in your ears, due to the sheer volume of the music. Strobe lights flashed across the area, coloring the chaos that would usually be depicted as uncouth, though it had an air of youth, of freedom.
The beer pong in the back area. The kitchen counter, lined with drinks and shots and remainders of powders that made your stomach twist with need. Couples making out in the corners and the hallways and the middle of the room– almost immediately, Mai was swept up by a typical frat– backwards hat, lean muscles, white teeth– and she laughed, going along with him.
But not without turning back to you. This time, her grip dug into your flesh, as if she could read the need in your eyes. As if she knew that, despite the noise, you couldn’t quiet the urge.
“Remember!” She yelled. “Be cool, Y/N. Don’t make me regret this.”
“I won’t!” You promised, but she was already gone, swept into the crowd.
Thank fucking God. You appreciated Mai– most of the time, anyway– but you needed to focus.
You knew the signs of a drug dealer. At the back of a party, where people lingered– but not to dance or scream or make out. No. You needed to find the smokers, the sprawl of leather, dirty couches. And then you would find your dealer.
But, no. You searched and searched and searched– the backyard, upstairs, the fucking bathroom. No sign of anything shady– other than the nudity and underage drinking and practically public fucking. Seems like there was never a dead area at one of Satoru Gojo’s parties; no space for greening out in such a versatile environment.
Whatever. You were determined. You knew there were drugs at this party; you just needed to find them. And God knew what a woman facing withdrawal was capable of.
Somehow, you had mustered up the courage to go up to the centers of attention– the stars, the ones who always had eyes on them, since the moment you stepped in through the door. Since birth, probably.
This form of power, of this irrefutable display of influence, came in the shape of two boys. No, not boys. These were men.
One of them had long, silken black hair and piercing features. He would be more pretty than intimidating if it weren’t for the sharp glint in his eyes, even in the midst of such chaos. He was dressed in a white, fitting shirt, leaning against the wall as girls and boys crowded around him. Though his attention seemed to be fixed on his complete opposite.
It was another boy– shockingly beautiful, you noted– with hair the color of snow. He was the yin to the other boy’s yang; where the ravenette seemed to be more tense, crudely enchanting, the white-haired boy was attractive in the way that the sun was– impossible to miss, yet so clearly capable of damage. And, God, those eyes. Blue flames of pure intensity.
So it wasn’t possible to not notice when they landed on you.
He noticed you– so boldly dressed, yet sulking in the corner. You saw him nudge his partner before saying something to the people surrounding them– it must’ve been very convincing, as they immediately scattered, simultaneously running to the backyard.
You couldn’t particularly care. There could be a giraffe stumbling around, yet it wouldn’t silence the agony running through your bloodstream. And, whilst you marinated in your misery and paralyzed helplessness, you did not notice the pair approaching you. Not until the fair-haired one gently tapped you on the forehead, snapping you out of your stupor.
“Shit,” he laughed, watching you take a surprised step back. His arm was slung over his partner’s shoulder, the latter holding a bored, amused air about him. “You good, girl? Look a bit… out of it.”
He leaned down, scrutinizing your face– the wideness of your eyes, the bitten skin of your lips. No peaceful haze anywhere.
“She doesn’t seem high,” the other one hummed, tilting his head to the side. His glossy hair moved with the action. “Or maybe she’s a new-timer. You know, the ones who start panicking. Are you scared?” It was clear that he didn’t genuinely care; the corner of his lip twitched, as if he was holding back a smirk.
The white-haired one didn’t have the decency to do so. His grin was mocking, brightening his already terrifying eyes to a consuming shade of blue. “You’re right. I’m Gojo, by the way. That’s Geto.” He paused, eyebrow lifting. “We do everything together.”
You recalled the cliched line faster than the names. Oh, God. These were the deities that Mai had been preaching about; she would be bursting in jealousy, really, when she learnt that the two had approached you, not the other way around.
You didn’t feel any satisfaction at the fact. No; being around these two brought forth a sense of unease, mixed with a wary dollop of curiosity. Of course you were curious. Just look at them.
You realized that they were waiting for you to introduce yourself, and you spoke over a stutter, eyebrows furrowing. “Y..Y/N.” And, because you were pissy and scared, you sharply added, “Oh, I know. You two seem to be very… popular.”
“Heard about us, sweetheart?” Gojo piped, running a hand through the thick mess of his hair. “Now, I must say that I’m flattered. Never thought such a pretty girl would know of us.”
This time, you did laugh. Straight in their faces. Of course you did; his flattery was obvious, and he didn’t even have the decency to pretend that it was genuine. The two looked not necessarily surprised, but certainly taken aback.
“Oh,” Geto scoffed, “she’s completely out of it. Look at her. The poor thing’s shaking.”
“Need of a fix, girl?” Gojo peered at you, his smile sharp. “You know what; you’re funny. I’ll lead you to the best guy I know. Killer deals.” His gaze raked over you. “And he’d like you.”
You didn’t really care what it meant further than the fact that you had gotten yourself a dealer. A wide, excited smile curved your lips, features immediately lightening with an almost childlike joy.
They laughed at that. “Oh, look at her, Geto,” Gojo looked immensely pleased with himself. “So naive.”
“Or desperate.” Geto surveyed him like his friend did; except, his nose wrinkled with distaste. “Yes. Definitely desperate.”
You brushed past the insult; it hardly held a smidge of importance within this conversation. A burst of energy rejuvenated you, and you bounced on your heels, blinking rapidly. “Who? Where can I find them? Are they here tonight?”
Gojo grabbed your arm, steadying you. The shake of his head was deliberate, slow– as if chastising a child. “Now, don’t get excited.” His eyes gleamed under the colorful, flashing lights. “I have never seen a girl get so excited over seeing Choso– at least, without a bit of fear. Guess there’s a first time for everything.”
“I bet that’s gonna change soon.” Geto sighed, stretching his powerful arms over his head.
You latched onto the name. “Choso? Is he here? Where can I find him?”
Gojo’s eyes sharpened, and, for the first time, his smile dropped. The temperature seemed to plummet with it.
“Easy, girl. Look, you’re cute and all, but I gotta warn you. It’s my annual deed. Choso–”
“I don’t care,” you butt in, eyes widening. “I really, really don’t care.”
Rather than offense, Gojo’s face melted into something worse: anticipation. But it wasn’t the good kind. No; he looked like the spectator of a horrific ritual, and you were to be the victim.
“Suit yourself. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He gave you a half-hearted shrug, steering Geto along with him. He turned his head at you, narrowing his eyes. “Aren’t you coming?”
“You guys are coming with me?”
His smile was the curve of a scythe. “Can’t drop a puppy into shark-infested waters and not watch, can I?”
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