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When Yuuji is seven years old and crying about the fact his best friend is moving across the country, his grandfather takes his hands in his own and gruffly tells him, “Nothing stays the same, Yuuji. You’ll be okay.”
Yuuji, wide-eyed and young, thinks about how his grandfather doesn’t have many friends, doesn’t have anyone that comes over except for the occasional co-worker, doesn’t have anyone he even talks fondly about, except his late grandmother.
I’ll stay with him forever, Yuuji remembers deciding then, taking a few steps forward to wrap his arms around his grandfather’s body, the old man letting out a huff in surprise. And when the feeling of strong hands running through his hair followed, a rare moment of gentleness from the man, Yuuji revels in it.
When Yuuji is fifteen years old, Yuuji’s grandfather dies, his lips are trembling, and Nothing stays the same, Yuuji rings loud and clear like an omen. Yuuji’s grown up knowing loneliness, has seen it shape the one family member in his life, has seen it wrap around his own body when he comes home from a casual night out with classmates—people he never once thought would stick around—and lies alone on his bed, reading another comic about a group of friends saving the world.
Yuuji knows loneliness, but it’s an awful realization, understanding just how empty his home will feel now when he returns home. Yuuji has nobody. Yuuji is nobody.
Nothing stays the same, though—not even that.
The world is filled with curses, filled with those working to make it better, filled with those with dark eyes and power, the power to save others, and that’s something Yuuji’s been gifted with since birth, even his grandfather believed so, and maybe Yuuji doesn’t have anybody, but he can at least be somebody.
And then, Yuuji meets Gojo Satoru.
Gojo is larger than life, all cheeky smiles followed by serious, contemplative expressions, wrapped up with a carefree attitude that’s rooted in the true desire to protect others. Yuuji’s enamored by him—by his power, by his wit, by his raw ability to be the person and sorcerer he was obviously destined to be.
It’s almost natural—the ease with which they fall into each other. Gojo tells him outright what’s wrong, tells him just how Yuuji can make something of himself, and Yuuji thinks again of his grandfather and thinks for the first time in his life, I can make it change.
Not long after, Yuuji dies.
It isn’t lost on him—the irony that he’s finally found others he can connect with, the fact that he thought he finally found something to live for. Fushiguro’s eyes are wide with fear as he watches Yuuji, and Yuuji thinks that he really did mean it when he thought to himself how he’ll stay with his grandfather forever, following him even in death.
Maybe Yuuji was in over his head, thinking he’d finally have people that could be his.
Then—
Then, Yuuji wakes up, and Gojo Satoru is there, once again, to prove to him otherwise.
Gojo’s touchy. It’s something Yuuji notices immediately while they’re in the room Gojo’s sequestered him away in. Gojo’s hand landing on his head lingering, warm and heavy as it presses down his hair. Gojo’s arm casually thrown over Yuuji’s shoulder, pulling him closer as he laughs at some of Yuuji’s soft grumbles about being trained to death. Gojo’s hand finding itself on the back of his neck, his thumb tracing soft circles on his skin, goosebumps showing themselves at the feeling.
Yuuji really must be an idiot to like it as much as he does. To know that Gojo probably doesn’t mean anything by it, but still chase after it like a lost puppy finally finding its owner. Yuuji’s simply Sukuna’s vessel—nothing more.
Gojo, Yuuji quickly learns, is also purposeful.
Purposeful with his praises, his criticisms, the way he pretends to ignore Yuuji for the sake of bettering him or the way he seems to keep every ounce of his attention on him instead. Even more so, he seems to know everything. Knows random facts about a massive shopping chain or about some kind of complicated physics Yuuji hardly cares to keep up with. More importantly, he knows how to keep Yuuji safe, knows how to keep the higher-ups under his thumb, knows how to make Yuuji laugh so hard it seems to fill the room. Yuuji’s heart hammers so loudly when Gojo’s around him that a part of him is almost convinced Gojo knows about that, too.
Yuuji’s never had a crush before, not a serious one, and he’s starting to realize what all the hype is about when Gojo comes to him each and every day just for him. It’s stupid, how much Yuuji looks forward to it. Despite knowing that Yuuji’s purpose is to die a martyr, it’s hard not to fall into the ease of Gojo’s care, the way Gojo makes Yuuji feel like he matters. Not for the sake of the jujutsu world, but for the sake of mere living.
Maybe that all comes with the territory of having a crush, though. Yuuji doesn’t know.
Besides, he can’t help but think, isn’t it okay? Isn’t it okay that he desires just this one singular thing—this person—before dying? Can’t he be allowed even that?
“I brought hamburgers!” Gojo cheerfully announces upon opening the door.
Yuuji is quick to bound off the couch to meet him, an excited “Yay!” easily slipping from his lips as he does. His training today has been especially hunger-inducing so this is a welcome reprieve. Unable to help his excited grin, he reaches out to grab the bag, but Gojo pulls it back with raised eyebrows and an amused tilt to his lips.
“Ah, ah, ah, I didn’t say they were for you.”
“Gojo-sensei, I’m starving.” Yuuji’s stomach grumbles loudly just to further prove his point and Yuuji places his hands on it, making sure Gojo knows just how much he’s dying. Gojo laughs but instead of saying something undoubtedly teasing, he reaches out and pats Yuuji’s stomach right along with him. Yuuji swallows, the air suddenly so thick around him, and Gojo is looking at him in a way that feels like—
Gojo pulls away, laughing brightly as if nothing had happened, and walks past him to settle on the couch. Yuuji stands there for a few seconds, swallowing again before slowly letting go of his stomach. He swears he can still feel the warmth from Gojo’s large hands.
“What kind of burgers?” Yuuji finally asks, sitting down next to Gojo and putting careful distance between them. Gojo’s just staring at him, gaze still so bright with something, and he doesn’t answer. Instead, he shifts closer, his right leg pressed right against Yuuji’s and his arm strewn over the couch, his fingers dipping ever so slightly beneath the fabric of Yuuji’s soft shirt. Yuuji shivers.
Finally, Gojo lets out a soft hum. “Yours is a cheeseburger, mine is just a regular one. All the ingredients, everything you like. There are even fries.”
The way he says it makes Yuuji’s chest tighten, and he lets out a helpless laugh at the feeling.
“Thanks for treating me, Sensei!”
When he leans forward to dig in, opening the bag and pulling out the small boxes with their food, Gojo’s hand falls to settle hotly on his upper back.
He never does pull away, even when Yuuji straightens again. And, there it is again. That dark feeling that’s settled in the chasm of his chest, some kind of ache that grows stronger every time Yuuji’s with Gojo. He likes when Gojo is like this. Touchy. Purposeful.
Almost as if Gojo is his.
Time moves slowly—a pulled out string stretched as thin as possible so that each minute feels even just seconds longer. It’s how Yuuji feels watching Gojo now, just like that stretched string, as if he’s suspended in the air.
It’s almost gentle, the way Gojo seems to sleep, head tilted back so strangely that it must be uncomfortable, and Yuuji can’t help but watch him.
Gojo took them out today—far away from the city. Let Yuuji breathe in the fresh air as Gojo basically beat the shit out of him in a field. It was fun. Even with Yuuji pouting about a new bruise (he had been focusing too hard on using his cursed energy to consider simply stepping to the side of Gojo’s fist), he’s having fun.
Yuuji couldn’t stop thinking about the way Gojo’s hand felt on his face, the way his long fingers settled so comfortably on his skin, tilting his head up so that he could get a closer look. Gojo had hummed, a soft sigh accompanying the sound, and then took Yuuji out for dinner.
Now, they’re back in the room—Yuuji’s room, he honestly considers now—and Gojo’s fallen asleep in the middle of watching a movie as if he’s some old man.
Yuuji’s facing him, arm propped up against the back of the couch, hand holding his own cheek, and he just stares, the giddy feeling of want swirling inside him.
Is Yuuji selfish for wanting this to stay the same? Is this how life can be? Is this what lo—
Yuuji’s probably just a fool.
But when Gojo’s eyes suddenly flicker open and meet his, a quiet moment that’s just like that stretched out, taut string, Yuuji knows there’s no point in trying to go against it.
Gojo’s lips quirk up, a knowing smile, and when he leans in suddenly to press his lips against Yuuji’s own, Yuuji falls into the feeling. Gojo says something then, a soft, teasing, Watching your crush sleep, Yuuji-kun? That’s hilarious, classic even, Yuuji, you feel—
He doesn’t want this to change.
When Yuuji is still just fifteen years old, he realizes what it means to be wanted. It’s exhilarating, every time Gojo-sensei kisses him, every time his fingers trail up against his skin like worship, every time Gojo muses seriously about something only for it to end up being a joke about how adorable Yuuji is.
The full force of Gojo’s affections is something Yuuji quickly enjoys learning how to handle. He likes the way Gojo pouts after having a particularly distressing day and he likes the way he constantly wants to be touching Yuuji, as if he can’t settle comfortably without the contact.
They don’t talk about their pre-destined roles in this society. They don’t talk about the clock hanging over them like a noose. Yuuji learns how to deal with Sukuna’s horrible, crass remarks about their relationship. Gojo always seems amused by it, always calling Sukuna a lonely and grouchy old man, much to Sukuna’s ever-growing rage.
Yuuji laughs it off, he always does, and Gojo’s arms will always just wrap around his waist and tug him closer and into his lap, pressing soft, possessive kisses against his neck.
He doesn’t want this to change.
“You know, Gojo-sensei,” Yuuji mumbles tiredly, shifting onto his back, no longer facing Gojo in their bed, “I didn’t have a lot of friends growing up.”
Gojo’s quiet for a moment. Then, one of his hands comes down and turns Yuuji’s face towards him, settling hotly on his cheek. His expression is open with surprise. “That’s sad, Yuuji! You’re so likeable. Why not? Are you secretly evil? It’s fine if you are, we’ll figure it out.” He doesn’t let go of Yuuji’s cheek after saying it, though, and Yuuji knows that Gojo knows this isn’t something small to Yuuji. Yuuji doesn’t think that even he knew that.
Yuuji lets out a small smile. “It wasn’t that. It was… nobody seemed to click, I guess? Does that make sense? And… I wasn’t used to it, honestly. Having people besides my grandfather, I mean. Well, I had one friend who moved away when I was super young, but my grandfather basically told me not to cry about it.” He lowers his voice, speaking gruffly to impersonate his grandfather. “‘Nothing stays the same,’ he told me. Dramatic, right? Something a lonely geezer like him would say, but… but he was right. It was freeing, in a way. It meant that no matter my mistakes, I could keep on living. It meant no matter how awful things seemed, they wouldn’t stay like that forever.”
He shifts in place, sighing. Gojo’s hand on him is so warm—it feels like safety. “It also meant, though, that no matter how good things may be at some point… it would change. Something would happen to change that happiness. Maybe somewhere along the way, I stopped learning how to feel the need to get close to others. That is, until you, and Kugisaki, and Fushiguro, and Nanamin, of course… then again, maybe it’s like what I already said. Maybe it’s just that nobody else seemed to click.”
Gojo hums, patting his cheek once before trailing it up to Yuuji’s hair and resting it there instead. “Abandonment issues, I see….”
Yuuji scoffs, whining out a small, “Sensei.”
With quirked lips, Gojo leans in to kiss Yuuji, the taste of him so sweetly familiar to Yuuji now and yet it still makes his stomach churn with anticipation. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to loving him like this. Gojo pulls back a bit, mouth still hovering so close to Yuuji’s.
“You deserve as many friends as you want, Yuuji. I’m sorry you had a lonely childhood, and I’ll make sure you’ll get to enjoy your youth to the fullest.” He sighs. “Honestly, I’m the same way. You don’t realize how special you really are, Yuuji. It’s strange for me, too, to have someone like you in my life. You make a better person.”
“You’re already a pretty great person, Gojo-sensei.” Yuuji laughs, grabbing Gojo’s hand and squeezing his fingers. “But I’ll become even stronger. I’ll protect you the same way you protect me.”
Gojo nods, curling his fingers to squeeze back. “I look forward to it, Yuuji.” He kisses Yuuji again, a deeper one this time and it lingers when he leans away. “You’re wrong, by the way. You nag me about eating broccoli, after all. That’s already you making me a better person.”
“Sensei, that’s stupid.”
“Well, it doesn’t make it any less true, Yuuji!”
Yuuji huffs another laugh, shifting again so he’s facing the ceiling again. Gojo’s still holding onto his hand, and he can feel his pulse in his throat. “I don’t want this to change. Sometimes, I’m afraid you’ll slip right through my fingers. That this is too good to be true.”
“Shall I let you take me away then?”
Yuuji turns his head, smiling as he shuffles closer, intertwining their legs together. “Honestly, yeah, Sensei. Let’s get the hell out of here.”
Gojo grins at him, a brilliant, shining expression that makes Yuuji’s heart skip a beat. “Okay, Yuuji. I’ll take us far away.”
And, as Gojo snakes his arm around Yuuji’s waist, bringing their bodies flush together, Yuuji hears his grandfather’s voice again, his steady reminder of Nothing stays the same, but Gojo is holding him even closer, and Yuuji can’t help but hope his grandfather is wrong.
Yet, Gojo is holding him even closer, and Yuuji can’t help but hope his grandfather’s wrong.
I want to keep this. I want to keep this. I don’t want this to change.
I won’t let this change.