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Sensei is too tired after defeating Sukuna. He can’t heal himself using RCT as he usually does, Shoko tells Yuuji when he starts panicking. He’ll be fine. He will. For sure. Yuuji knows this; Shoko is the best healer around, but she, too, is tired after a few hours. Gojo’s wound is just too large, too deep. And on top of that, his body seems to reject her efforts.
Yuuji watches his unconscious teacher lying on a blood-sullied makeshift medical bench. Shoko is off sleeping somewhere, Yuuji doesn’t exactly know. All he knows is that Gojo is alive, Sukuna is gone, everything is over. But why, why is Sensei still sleeping? None of Shoko’s explanations make sense. Gojo is the strongest, why would his body betray him like this? Why can’t it just heal itself? Yuuji wants to see Gojo’s reassuring, overconfident smile again. He wants to hear the words everything will be okay from his Sensei’s mouth, because only then will he believe.
Days pass.
Yuuji barely sleeps. He watches Sensei day and night, not eating, worrying everyone. But he can’t move on. Everyone else has. He can’t. His place is here. Sensei should wake at any moment. He should be the first to see him. Why? He doesn’t know. But his stomach turns when he thinks of someone else being there. Being the first to see Gojo when he awakes from this deep slumber. His place is here.
Shoko tells Yuuji not to lose hope.
RCT is repairing his brain, she thinks.
That’s why there’s still hope.
He knows she has lost it all.
But it’s unfair.
This is Gojo Satoru, the strongest.
Nobara and Megumi question his mental well-being. They don’t say it outright, but Yuuji isn’t an idiot. He can see the worry in their gazes. But it’s only directed to him. It seems like everyone else accepted that Gojo won’t return. The strongest did his duty, and died for it. He tells them to leave him alone. They seem like they want to argue about that, but then, they just leave.
Yuuji watches Shoko reapply the dressing to his wounds. He wants to ask her bitterly why she can’t heal him. But it would be unfair; she did all she could. He watches her take off the bloody mesh, clean the cuts on his body and wrap new bandages around his torso. He watches her every day, finger aching to do something other than watch. He knows all the steps, what he should look for. He knows how to take care of him
So, after a week of watching, he asks Shoko if he could help.
She gives him a look of pity but ultimately agrees.
Yuuji handles Gojo’s dressing from now on. His fingers gently touch his closing wounds, caressing every bit of skin he can touch. These are the wounds of a winner. Scars, proof of his victory. If only he were awake to celebrate. Yuuji wonders if Gojo will hate his scars. He had always been a bit particular about his looks. The boy almost laughs. Almost. He can’t, not when Sensei is still asleep like this. If he did hate his scars, Yuuji would tell him how badass he looks. Every day, at all times.
“Sensei, won’t you wake up?”
No reply.
Yuuji swallows his tears.
He continues. Thoroughly, he cleans every bit of Gojo Sensei’s sleeping body. He feels the man’s heart beating, alive. His hands linger there for a moment, until Yuuji’s own heartbeat calms down and the need to cry evaporates. He continues. Gently, he puts ointment on the biggest wound—a slash through his torso. It’s a miracle Shoko could close the wound up before Gojo could... Yuuji doesn’t want to continue that thought. He continues. Carefully, he applies the dressing. Then, he’s back to his normal routine.
He watches Gojo.
He watches him attentively until he falls asleep.
Sleep isn’t kind to him. Or maybe it’s his brain.
Gojo is in front of him. Dying. His body spills all its blood on the cold, snowy ground. It makes a beautifully tragic picture. Sensei’s eyes are dull, no longer blue as the sky, but grey, like a rainy day. Yuuji screams awake every time, shuffling to his teacher's body. He lays his head on the man’s chest, careful so he doesn’t hurt him. A breath escapes him. Gojo is alive. He is. He’s just sleeping.
“Sensei,” Yuuji whispers. He doesn’t finish the sentence. He doesn’t know what to say.
“Gojo-Sensei.”
As always, there’s no reply.
⊹₊⟡⋆
It snows outside.
It reminds him of Sensei.
Everything does.
His hair has grown, Yuuji notes. Snow white silky hair. It’s just as beautiful as the rest of his body. The thought is embarrassing. His cheeks flush, and he feels guilty, for some reason.
Yuuji finds a pair of scissors and cuts the grown bits off. He doesn’t touch the man’s undercut, not trusting himself not to mess that up.
A month has passed, Yuuji thinks. He doesn’t check. It would only make him feel worse.
Sometimes, he talks to him. Just a bit of rambling, hoping that Gojo can hear him. Maybe then he would finally awaken.
“Sensei, it’s already New Year's. You have to make it up to me, not being there to celebrate and all,” he says, tears spilling.
“You know, I really looked forward to it. The first New Year’s with everyone. But I didn’t even go, in the end.” He wipes his tears away.
“I just want you to be here, awake. I don’t even care that much. You don’t have to make it up to me, okay?” Yuuji looks at Gojo's unmoving body.
“Just wake up, Sensei,” he sobs quietly. “Wake up.”
There’s no reply. There never is.
He falls asleep on a chair, right next to Gojo.
⊹₊⟡⋆
When it finally happens, Yuuji thinks his mind is playing tricks on him. He’s too sleep deprived. Sensei’s fingers twitch. He thinks. He is hopeful.
“Sensei?”
No reply.
Not really.
Gojo’s mouth opens. He sees it. Sensei is waking up.
“Sensei, you got this,” he says, excited.
The man’s pupils move under his eyelids. He’s waking up. Or dreaming? Hopefully it’s a nice dream. One that will end soon. Hopefully.
Yuuji goes back to changing the dressing. The only wound that still needs to be covered is the one on his torso. Everything else healed perfectly. He took care of it. Yuuji wants Gojo to wake up. To look him in the eyes and tell him that he’s proud of him. He fought well. He took care of him well. He loves—
Where did that come from?
He’s too tired. His cheeks flush.
“Sensei, wake up. I’m going crazy,” he giggles.
And wake he does. Gojo’s eyes open suddenly, blue orbs full of life, moving around like crazy, looking for something. He finally locks eyes with Yuuji, who’s dropped the things in his hands, mouth agape.
“Sensei!”
Gojo smiles at him.
“Sensei!” Yuuji cries.
He sobs and throws himself onto his teacher, who grunts in pain. Yuuji quickly apologises and pulls back, taking a look at his wound. It didn’t reopen. Thank god. Gojo is well. He is alive. He is awake. Even if it seems like his brain isn’t back to full capacity. He doesn’t talk. All he does is smile. Yuuji can feel, can see the halo around him. Gojo glows with life.
Yuuji pulls his phone to call Shoko.
“Sensei’s awake,” he cries into the phone when she picks up.
⊹₊⟡⋆
Shoko is shocked. Too shocked. So shocked that Yuuji feels a bit offended.
She says Gojo will slowly go back to normal. Slowly. His muscles are all sore and tight from not moving for so long. It might take a while for him to even speak. Yuuji doesn’t mind. He’ll guide him through all of it.
“It’s not your responsibility, Itadori-kun.”
“I want to,” is all he replies.
Every day, he talks to Gojo until he wakes up. Then he helps the man move his arms and legs. It would bore everyone else, he thinks. But it doesn’t bore him. He wishes he could take care of Gojo even when he’s back to full health. The thought doesn’t make sense, probably. But he wants to. Desperately. Gojo-Sensei always seems so lonely. He always shoulders everything alone. Like the fight with Sukuna. Had Yuuji been by his side, none of this would’ve happened. He never wants Gojo to feel like he is the only one capable of solving a problem, no matter how small. He wants Gojo to rely on him for the smallest things without shame. He wants to be there, beside him, so he is never lonely.
Gojo smiles every time he eyes him. It makes Yuuji’s body warm with a feeling he doesn’t quite know how to name.
Only after three days does the man finally speak a word.
“Yuuji,” he says, and Yuuji’s whole world shakes.
His heart races. Excitement.
“Yes, Sensei?” he replies, swallowing the tears threatening to spill.
“Yuuji,” he repeats.
His voice is hoarse from misuse. Something about it makes Yuuji’s heart jump.
“I’m here, Sensei!”
The man laughs.
⊹₊⟡⋆
It only goes uphill from now on. Gojo starts speaking more. Broken sentences, nothing too meaningful. Just Yuuji’s name, calling for water, good morning, good night. Yuuji’s heart rushes with every word. He looks forward to having a proper conversation. Hopefully soon.
There’s only one little problem.
Gojo’s gaze at him when he dresses his wounds, or, honestly, when he does anything, makes him feel nervous. Is it a look of rejection? He doesn’t know. He really doesn’t. Gojo doesn’t say anything to imply anything to confirm or deny Yuuji’s suspicions.
But even if he did reject his care, Yuuji would tell him that he wants to do it regardless. He needs to make sure he’s okay. Always.
Maybe there is also another problem.
Yuuji knows this isn’t normal. The growing worry. The growing care. His flushing cheeks. His racing heart. He can’t name it. It’s not normal. His...feelings for his Sensei are too big. Too strange. Too unusual. He could name it. This feeling. But it’s scary.
Yuuji should just focus on Gojo’s recovery. He does.
⊹₊⟡⋆
By the end of the first week of Gojo being awake, Yuuji manages to have him stand up and sit down in a wheelchair. He tells Shoko that Sensei is bored—he needs to go for a walk. Shoko just tells him to go. He hears her whisper something to herself. He only catches two words. Doting wife. His ears are set aflame.
Sensei didn’t hear that, right?
How embarrassing.
“Sensei, I’ve been looking forward to this,” he says once the sunlight hits both their faces.
“Yeah?” Gojo laughs gently.
“I haven’t been outside much. It’s more fun with you around.”
“You should be with your friends, playing,” Gojo says, voice strained.
It’s not the first time he’s said something like this. Ever since he managed to talk more, it’s all he’s been implying. Guilt. For making Yuuji suffer with him. Yuuji shoots all of it down immediately.
“I want to be with you,” he replies gently. “I like this.” I like you, he almost says.
“Once I’m better, I’ll have a word with Shoko—”
“I wanted to help you, Sensei. It’s okay.”
Gojo doesn’t say anything afterwards. He’s always like this. It’s kind of cute, the way he sulks. But it’s also sad to see. What does he have to do for him to accept him?
“Do you want to see the others?” He switches topics.
“Not like this,” Gojo replies.
Yuuji doesn’t know what to reply. He pushes the wheelchair around until he notices Gojo dozing off. He goes back inside to Gojo’s room. He recently moved him there from the infirmary. Sensei sleeps better now, but he dozes off a lot. His brain is still damaged, Shoko says. But it’s healing. Gojo is healing himself. Slowly. Yuuji tucks Gojo in and sits down on a chair next to the bed. It doesn’t take long until he, too, falls asleep.
Yuuji wakes to Gojo arguing with someone. Shoko.
“He should be sleeping in a bed, in his own room. Shoko, you can’t have him do all this!”
Shoko sighs.
“He won’t listen, even if I did.”
Yuuji opens his eyes. Maybe he’s too tired. Maybe he is not quite awake yet, because the words that leave him aren’t a reflection of his feelings. Maybe.
“Sensei, do you not like me?”
Shoko and Gojo still. The man is sitting on the bed, turning his gaze to Yuuji.
“Yuuji, that’s not—”
Yuuji shakes his head.
“I don’t know why I asked that—I... I want to take care of you, Sensei. I don’t want to lose you. Please let me do this,” he says, voice low, ashamed.
“I’m going to leave you two alone,” Shoko says and leaves. She gives Yuuji a gentle smile and Gojo a glare.
Yuuji doesn’t dare look Gojo in his eyes. Maybe the constant rejection got to him. Probably. He feels hot tears spill and hears his own quiet sobs.
“Please let me have this,” he pleads.
“Yuuji—”
“When you’re all okay, I will still follow you around to help you,” he sobs. “I’m not doing this because I feel guilty. I—” Yuuji stills.
“I love you, Sensei. I want to be there for you, always.”
He feels his face flush. He doesn’t care. It’s all out, anyway.
Gojo doesn’t say anything. Yuuji hears the bed rustle and looks up, scared that Gojo might hurt himself. He still doesn’t have the strength to move around too much. Yuuji blinks his tears away to look—
A kiss.
Plush, warm lips meet his, gently sucking at his own.
Yuuji’s eyes open wide in shock.
Gojo-Sensei wipes his tears away and then kisses him again, gently. He then peppers kisses all around Yuuji’s face, which makes the boy laugh as the tears continue to spill. He’s confused, so, so confused, but so happy.
“Yuuji, don’t cry,” Gojo says between the kisses.
He tries to pull Yuuji in for a hug, but fails to do so. Yuuji laughs and carefully jumps off the chair to straddle him. Gojo’s arms immediately circle his smaller frame, encapsulating him in a safe cocoon. He looks up to see Gojo’s gentle smile. It’s laced with something akin to guilt.
“I’m just worried about you wasting your time. I’ll be okay soon. I don’t want you to worry,” he tells him.
“It’s not a waste of time,” Yuuji sighs. He hugs the man tightly. “I know you’ll be okay soon. I want to be there watching you get better.”
“You could be hanging out with your friends.”
“But I don’t want to. I want to be here.”
Gojo sighs.
“I’m not winning this, am I?”
Yuuji laughs.
“Nope. Gojo, the greatest loses for once.”
“I’ve lost before,” he says, looking Yuuji in the eyes.
“I tried to keep this appropriate, but I couldn’t.” His eyes sparkle. He looks at Yuuji fondly. “I love you, Yuuji.”
Yuuji looks away. It’s too embarrassing. Gojo is the one laughing now. He kisses Yuuji’s forehead. Yuuji rests his head against Gojo’s heartbeat. This is real. He smiles to himself.
“I’m sleepy again,” Gojo sighs.
Yuuji mourns the warmth as he moves to leave the bed. But before he can move away, Gojo grabs his hand with all his might.
“Don’t want to sleep next to your sick boyfriend?” Gojo teases and Yuuji blushes.
“Sure...”
Gojo laughs.