Chapter Text
This is wrong.
The trance that got Satoru down the aisle breaks when he finally looks at Georgia. Her awestruck wonder is too much. He is all wrong. Her joyful tears are wrong. He’s wrong.
Georgia took one look at his broken attempt of a smile and her own face, that face that all grooms dream of, awe mixed with love and bits of tears, crumbled. Her gaze shifted behind them to where Gojo knew his mother was sitting, and she put her hand up like a school crossing guard. The music stopped and he felt like he could breathe again.
“Satoru?” Georgia whispered and reached with her stop hand to grasp his trembling fists.
He still had no words. There were still so many words jumbled in his head and none of them seemed to find the way to exit his mouth when he needed them to. Gojo shook his head, and a keen was able to escape his mouth. Georgia looked bewildered for just a moment before her face changed into droopy eyes and downturned lips before settling into grim determination. With his downcast eyes Satoru could see his own mother holding back Georgia’s dad, he wanted to rescue his little girl, he shouldn’t have, Satoru hated himself for turning her into a damsel, for becoming the villain in her story.
Peripherally, he saw Georgia whispering to the officiant. He looked up when she finally led him off to the said and Satoru heard a man in suit who was supposed to be in charge talking to the congregants. Friends and family had come from far and wider away to see him break a heart. To watch him break his own, again.
He found himself in a small room off to the side of the chapel and once again he was looking at his feet while they decided their fate. Satoru knew that this time that wouldn’t do, he had to face things once and for all, he owed Georgia some words. He lifted his face to her and Georgia still looked kind, like the first time he met her at age twenty, but broken, like a much older woman.
“Georgie I—” he started.
“Satoru, I know.” She tried to let him off the hook.
If he had a talent, it seemed to be for picking excellent mature women, who were exceedingly good-hearted and understanding of him. But at that moment, he felt it like a curse; It seemed to let him get away with entirely too much. He had to be better.
“Please don’t give me any breaks!” Satoru almost yelled, then caught that his volume was directed in her innocent direction. “I am sorry, I can’t marry you and I should, you are everything a person could ever want. But I am not for you. I thought I was and I wanted to be, when I proposed but it became this journey of me figuring out what I wanted since then and I tried to tell you.” He ran out of breath when he looked at her perfect face. “I don’t know how I let it get this far.”
“No, no, darling.” That nearly cut him into pieces. “I knew, I know, I’ve fucking known for years. I definitely knew when you proposed at a bloody café. I knew when you disappeared to go to her showcase and I most certainly knew when you didn’t want to share the same bed when I moved in. But I figured you would want me, someday.” Georgia pulled his hand up and then laced her long delicate fingers with his. A perfect fit. “And when you told me you found out you had feelings for Iori-san, I should have listened to what you were really saying, not what I wanted to hear.” She looked down and let go of his hand, but he took her other one.
His feelings belonged to Utahime and so did he. Though he had no pretensions that she would ever be his. Satoru breathed again, that was a riddle to solve later on. Georgia deserved his full attention while he runaway-groomed her.
“I’m so sorry, I do love you and you are the best person I’ve ever known.” Georgia giggled a bit and blushed at that, still a victim to his charms. “But the truth is, even if Utahime and I are finished, and as much as I want to give you my heart, my soul... I don’t seem to have them to give. I thought I could. I really did and I am a fool, I know I am, for not choosing you.” Gojo wanted to shrug, but the gesture was too relaxed for the situation and it was going well.
Georgia sighed. “Satoru-kun, you don’t see yourself properly. You’re a little too much in your head.” She pressed two fingers to his temple. “You’re too hard on yourself, it’s the burden of being smarter than you should be, beautiful and thoughtful. Even half-way in, you’re a delightful partner.” She swallowed as her eyes clouded. “Were. And I think we’re both fools for letting it get this far. I’m sure I will be angry at you soon, but now I just feel sorry.”
“You have every right. When you are ready, to yell at me, let me know and I will take my lumps.” Gojo gave her a watery smile, feeling better than he had in months despite everything, like the two-ton weight on his back was lifted and even the prospect of walking out to be judged by the assembled eyes didn’t daunt him as it should.
“Dad told me; you know?” She played with her engagement ring. “When he arrived, he took me to lunch and it was the first thing he told me.” Georgia took his hand and brought him over to sit near her on a hard wooden bench. They were lucky her dress was not a ball gown, or they wouldn’t have fit. Gojo sat beside her and it was the closest he’d felt to her in months. It was the most honest he’d ever been. “Dad looked at you and said you were dashing and lovely, but that you were mourning another wedding instead of planning ours.” She sighed again. “I should have listened to him, but I just wanted you.” There was an edge to her voice then, a bit of the tidal wave of hurt to come.
“Will we ever learn to trust our relatives?” Gojo laughed out loud and the release of emotion was a trickle before the dam broke. And Georgia relished at hearing him laugh.
“That sounds like a story, want to share?”
“My sister, when I announced our engagement to them, she brought up Utahime as if to test the waters, then my mum revealed what her ideal wedding would be like. And it just felt like they knew how much of a dick I was for putting you through this.” At that his voice broke and the tears came like a deluge. “I’m a fool who should’ve really listened to what his mother was saying.”
Georgie shed her own tears, then Gojo handed his pocket square to her. “A right pair we should have made.” Her smile was grim and Gojo couldn’t be sorrier.
“I do love you; you know that.” Gojo clutched her hand and thought how lovely the fit was, how his warm strong palm against her smaller one allowed her long fingers slip through so easily. It lacked the mesmerizing tangle like he remembered. It was perfect, just not right.
“Yeah, but not like you love her.” It wasn’t a question.
“I don’t think I could love anyone like that. Honestly,” his voice broke a little. “And it’s not that I don’t want to love her like I do. It’s...” Gojo gestured with big wide hands because he didn’t know how to convey it in words.
Georgia nodded then looked at him. “We should probably go tell these people that there won’t be a wedding but definitely a party. We can have a last dance instead of a first.” She was so sad and Gojo was too and he wanted to ask her how she came to be so very gracious. Gojo was sure there would be consequences later, maybe even great ones, but he was alright living the next few hours like it was a wake and not a funeral.
They walked out and the crowd was restless. Georgia’s frenemies from work nudged each other and that was something Gojo was sorry for. Her father looked knowing, so did Suguru, and inexplicably, his parents and sister looked proud.
They held hands as they came to the front of the aisle, and his soon-to-be ex held them aloft.
“Gojo-san and I have decided that we aren’t going to get married here today. We are not meant to be husband and wife,” she looked at him then and they shared an aquatic smile. “But he will always be my heart.” One day, Gojo hoped they could be great friends again. If Utahime was comfortable with it. If she ever was in a position to care for anything related to him again. “However, we have already paid for an amazing party and we want you to enjoy our hospitality.”
The processional played, and Gojo threw an affectionate arm over her shoulder. Georgia hugged him with all her might when they made it out of the fray.
“Thank you, I can’t thank you enough Georgie. I’m not even sure you are even real.”
She shook her tear-stained head at him. “I’m not, I’m a mirage, and I need to get changed.” She pointed at the bridal room and he nodded with a brave smile as she slipped away. Gojo spied on Elliot following her and he was happy that she wouldn’t be alone. He caught her expression dropping as her father laid a hand on her back.
It dawned on Gojo then, the heaviness of the situation, it will be hard to explain because he finally said the right things —the truth— but he acted the wrong way. And he knows on the way to the venue that there is where he least should be, Gojo fights the urge to tell the driver to take the exit for the motorway and speed back to a certain building where he left a broken heart a couple of months ago.
Would it make a difference if Gojo were to appear at her door, on the day that she knows that is his wedding day? Will Utahime even listen to him, when he tries to tell her that he learnt something? He has to get better, at least. For himself.
That day Gojo found the courage to finally stop the eroding he had going on for months, decided it was time to plant something in himself to stop the weathering —whatever that meant. But all in all, this whole thing —not getting married— was not like climbing a mountain, instead it felt more like the downhill he’d earned after creating the peak of a hike. It was all a pleasant surprise and though he saw a few asides and snickers from Georgie’s best friends and cousins, everybody seemed to have a great time. Georgia especially, she smiled and danced with her father.
Satoru and Georgia shared their first/last dance, while Megumi Hayashibara sang about flying to the moon. And it was special, because they would never again be allowed to play among the stars —with each other at least. Georgia would always be flawless and Satoru would always be grateful for her.
“What would you tell Georgia, if you met her for the first time all over again?” Shoko asked with her nicotine-stained hands against Gojo’s shoulders. “Run?” She tried to joke as he twirled her expertly with the song.
He shook his head with a little chiding frown. “You know me, I’m selfish so, not today, maybe tomorrow?” Gojo half joked. “However, I’d tell myself, that he will be lucky to have her, but that he should be honest and learn to communicate his true feelings. To be brave for once.”
Shoko looked at the ground and her jaw clenched a bit. “I might tell myself to stop keeping important information from you about Utahime. I was never good at accepting whatever feelings you two had for each other, especially if there’s a risk for her to get hurt.”
“Right friend you are.” Gojo playfully whined.
“I really hope you learn how to say what you mean and not just for whoever gets you, but for you too.” Shoko practically whispered.
They stopped talking for the rest of the dance. But that was alright. The dance and the night ended while Gojo waited for the cymbal crash —the death rattle— but it didn’t happen.
Satoru went to a hotel after Georgia and him agreed on a time he would be out of their apartment for her to move her things —she was finally angry by then. And she told him it would be best if she didn’t cross his path when she did it.
After Georgia was gone, he thought that maybe he didn’t need such a big flat for himself. Gojo cried on Suguru’s shoulder at this epiphany. And Suguru suggested his best friend to go on holiday for a while.
“Where would I even go?” Satoru demanded.
“Anywhere, as long as you feel at ease and not like you want to crash a certain artist’s exhibit.” They are quiet for a moment, but Gojo waits for the question in the air. “Are you going to call her?”
“Only when I am ready to be honest.”
“I’ll hold you to that!” Shoko promised from the kitchen and Suguru pulled him in a hug.
Days later on a plane to Barcelona, when he was looking through the pictures on his phone, Gojo found the one that Nanami —of all people— insisted they took after the reception, and he finally understood why. Gojo, in the middle of his closest friends, looked a little younger, a little messier than the one in the earlier pictures, not perfect.
But true.
Barcelona was beyond words. Satoru could see why Utahime wanted to attend university there. When his sister took him to the airport, just two days after selling his flat, and deconstructing his life, it felt like she was sending him to the gap year he wanted —but never got— at age seventeen. At nearly 29, it was a better experience. Gojo knew better, and he was getting to know himself again. Not just the version of him that he was projecting for years, but the boy who fell in love with a doe eyed girl at the beginning of school term, and never really unearthed himself from that. Back then he was really afraid of big feelings and anticipated hurt where it might not be found —and wound up causing it instead— but now Gojo was aware of his faults, and he was going to find their backstory and fix it. So that when he stood before Utahime and stripped himself down like she had for him on more than one occasion, Gojo could be himself, both who she fell in love with and the one who broke her heart. And he would know better than to do it again. Satoru could get better. The situation with Utahime was a big if, because it takes a lot to run out of kindness with her. Satoru may have done it with his marathon.
He knew everything about her with the years they spent dancing around each other. Utahime’s changing shape and who she was able to really be without an image crafted by someone else. She was the earnest sweet girl who offered to share her lunch with him so he didn’t have to waste time in queue at the canteen. She was also the dirty-mouthed silly thing he’d beat at scrabble every single time.
That is why Gojo loved Barcelona, besides its jaw-dropping architecture, mouth-watering tapas or the cool Mediterranean atmosphere, he could imagine Utahime there. Admiring the Sagrada Familia, her sweet and luminous eyes drinking in the façade. Drinking red wine and knowing where it will definitely stain her cupid's bow. Gojo wanted to chase her on a beach from the Costa Brava, tackle her down to powdery sand.
But the best part was after running in from the rain that came unexpectedly one afternoon, Gojo found himself writing down everything that happened since that night at Shoko’s. He started writing down how Utahime’s relationship to another guy made him feel —miserable and unworthy— he only took breaks that day to watch the BBC’s Pride and Prejudice while eating six pints of ice cream. When he was finally done with it Gojo felt upset, as if the document was mocking him, he was there to get better, not to write but at the moment those two things seemed tangled together like Utahime’s hair after a windy day. But, while he whipped himself like a good penitent and cried and visited every art gallery in the city, he had not made any introspective work.
A warmth had settled in between the buildings and city streets; and July 2018 had shifted into July 2019 seamlessly, as if it were a bridge to a song.
Gojo had spent much of the past year laid out in the grass of the park near his rented home. Quietly making friends and writing away in his notebook and more often than not, falling asleep to the feel of the sun against his bare arms. All his other time had become nearly divided between hours at the university he started teaching at; a careful balance of writing and working on finding the perfect path for the next chapter of his life. Nights spent in the backyard of Alex and Salma’s house because they are the only ones with a proper barbeque.
And of course, some of his time had been spent packing up all his belongings, ready to take that flight to Tokyo scheduled for the end of July.
Satoru pulled his knees up to his chest, resting his chin on top of them. Outside, he could hear the cars as they rolled past and the sounds of the city. Tea in the mug in front of him had probably gone cold, and lost all its appeal. Twisting his lips together, Gojo tried to take the time to find his words.
“I am worried that people don’t really change —that I can’t really change. Does that make sense? I mean obviously people can change, and for me I’ve tried to. But there’s a side of me, that has this selfish nature and it’s been a year and I know I can make myself change, grow, do better. It just worries me that it’s always going to be there, like some voice in the back of my mind reminding me how I was.”
It felt unnatural to say his words out loud in that way. Gojo had always poured his thoughts and fears and love into spontaneous actions. Set them to a grand gesture as if to distract from their meaning. But speaking them out loud —to a relative stranger— left discomfort settled somewhere between his chest and stomach.
“If I may be blunt,” Tatiana lent forward as she set her notepad aside. Gojo noticed that she had stopped writing a while ago. Gojo liked Tatiana. She wasn’t so old he felt like he was talking to his mother, but she wasn’t so young he felt as if he was just sitting around talking shit with Suguru or Alex. Glasses framed her penetrating eyes, and diplomas shone in their frames behind her. When Gojo had walked in the first day he had seen some McDonalds bags in the bin and decided this would work quite well.
“You’ve been plenty blunt in the past, why stop now?” He said with a wolfish grin before sipping on his cold tea.
Tatiana’s eyes crinkled as she smiled softly. A kind smile. “I’ve been doing this long enough to know there are some things about ourselves we just can’t change. But with time, you figure out how to handle it. You control it, not the other way around.”
“It’s always going to be there then.” Gojo whispered, something between a laugh and a scoff.
Because he couldn’t ignore the not-so-great part of his life —it was all there— the good and bad. Thrown and jumbled together to create the perfect masterpiece.
“From what you’ve told me in this past year’s sessions, you’re a lot stronger than you give yourself credit for. And when you’re not, I think you’ve surrounded yourself with some pretty great people.” She said so simply, rolling her eyes when Satoru was unable to keep the corner of his mouth from lifting. It had become a thing when he thought about the people in his life. “If you continue to do what you’ve been doing for the past six months, if you are patient with yourself. It’s all going to be alright Satoru, you don’t need to reschedule the flight for next month, you’re going to be alright. Your time is up, go on.” Gojo sat his mug down and gathered his things. Awkwardly backing out of the room that had been his safe place for the past eleven months as he tried to find the right words to say.
“Thank you, for everything.” Gojo stumbled out, hand on the door.
“Of course.” Because what else was Tatiana to say, this was her job. But before Gojo could make it out the door, she spoke again. “Have a safe trip back home.”
Numbly, he nodded and slammed the door behind him as he walked out. Because Gojo needed to hear it from someone beside himself. Perhaps it was what he had always needed to hear. That he would be alright, that everything would be alright, if not today, eventually.
EPILOGUE
“Could you make it out to ‘my most favorite kouhai’? And maybe sign it Uta-chan, please?”
Utahime didn’t have to look up to see who the voice belonged to. The sound of it was embedded in her brain since she first heard it over a decade ago.
A book signing was his last resort. It was the end of the day. Gojo was ashamed to say he’d been watching from afar as she had taken the book from her readers before summoning a smile and a ‘thank you’. It had been a long day, she looked tired, it had been a long year and a half since she’s heard his voice, other than on the voice mails she was quick to delete from her phone.
Utahime Iori, a famous painter, had been traveling around a bit with her newest book, her love story with her own art, a fictionalized story of it.
Gojo had been elated when it got published —and became a tiny best seller in Japan— their friends were so proud, Nanami’s publishing company had sights set on the US as well. Travelling around was going to be a reality for her very soon, so Satoru decided to go for it.
He was totally willing to see her that afternoon at the bookstore. He watched her talking about her characters, being happier than ever, sharing a new-found love for a new type of art. He came in late and Utahime breathed in and out for a couple more times, but she was afraid to look up at him, like looking at an eclipse. This was a once in a lifetime type of thing, she had to be prepared. At this signing at an independent bookstore in Shibuya, he was the last thing she was expecting, she didn’t have filtered glasses or anything.
She was sure he had waited for the crowd to die down on purpose —he seemed to be the last person in line. Maybe Gojo just saw the placard or her appearance and decided to pop round. He was still out of her eyeline, but Utahime could see he was wearing track pants and a white t-shirt. She wondered if he came from the gym, she knew he used to go to the gym nearby. It was safe to say Gojo wasn’t over it, losing her, or her not giving him a second chance when he called from Barcelona and asked her to meet him in the boating lake at Parc de la Ciutadella.
Utahime never went.
At first Gojo didn’t know where to go. He had waited for what felt like forever in that boat lake in Barcelona. He waited a whole year before he decided she wasn’t going. It was a new kind of hurt, what he felt for her to go to him. Gojo’s offering had been him, all of his flaws, and their story, along with his heart.
Utahime hadn’t wanted it.
That had been an extremely painful conclusion. But if he had gained anything from the heartbreak, Gojo hoped it was understanding. For Utahime’s anger, whose unanswered calls and texts sent a clear message to what she really wanted. Truth was, though she never went, he understood why.
When Utahime finally lifted her eyes and his were like a crystalline pool in the light, she drank him in. She’d tracked him —through Shoko— caught up on the things she’d missed, so she knew his hair was still messy with that touch of boyish charm that made him so compelling. Long enough to shove back off his forehead, but not long enough to need a wrap. IT may have been perfect. Satoru looked perfect to Utahime.
She’s been staring for what was way more than a comfortable length of time, but politeness be damned if she needed to act in a socially condoned way with the love of her life.
“Satoru?” She stuttered out, finally finding her voice.
“Hi Uta,” he said sotto voce and the shell Utahime had built inside her around her feelings for him to protect herself, shattered.
“What are you doing here?” Utahime gasped and looked around them for security, just in case anyone decided to disturb their moment.
“This is my local bookstore. I saw your picture outside for the signing this morning and well, my feet just found their way here, really.” He shrugged like it was no big deal. Like they hadn’t seen each other on the doorstep of her apartment with tears clouding their eyes. Like he hadn’t abandoned his own home just to be a worthy man, just to win her back.
And yet all she found to say was. “You have a local bookstore? I always thought that was more of a term for a bar.”
Gojo cocked his head to the side, “Utahime, am I more likely to have a local bookstore or a bar?”
“Nowadays, I don’t know really.” The part she left unsaid was that she didn’t really know him anymore. But she knew him enough to know the answer was indeed a bookstore.
“Of course you do!” He gave her that boyish grin. “Would you sign my book?” He gestured to the hardback she still had opened to the first page.
“To whom do you really want me to make it out to?” Utahime glanced up from where she’d put the marker to the book cover.
“You could please make it out to ‘my most favorite kouhai’? And maybe sign it Uta-chan, please?” He insisted and bit his lip and Utahime was confused. Gojo smiled while she stared at the book, just a bit shily, feeling like the seventeen-year-old boy who was flirting with her while she was trying to figure out how to flirt with him. “Sing the book, Hime.” He motioned and gave her jaw a tiny caress with his finger. Then he looked behind him. “Looks like your line cleared out?” And Utahime felt a bit of pride that there had been one in the first place. “Your story is a good one.”
“You read it?” She drew her neck back like a chicken.
“Yeah, soon as I saw the poster, I bought it and spent my day reading it.” That sent a thrill down her spine. “Since you seem done for the day, can we go for a walk? Do you want some McDonalds”
“Yeah, let me just let my handler know.” She seemed distracted. The chair that her sweater was over the back of fell with a clatter when she tried to pull the white cotton free. And it ripped the sleeve a bit too. Utahime blushed as she put it on the table before going to pick up the chair. Gojo put his hand over hers while he helped her right it and gave the ack of her palm a squeeze before she went, with her sweater in hand to talk to a guy in the back of the store.
Gojo’s mind inevitably wandered to whatever Utahime was feeling towards him now. Had she heard any of his voice mails? Did she read any of his texts? Was he not enough? Had he hurt her too much? What was he even doing here now? His mind was whirring when she made it out to him again, Gojo pulled a beanie on and seemed to have lost a layer under the jacket.
“Here, Uta.” He held a sweatshirt out to her. “I noticed you ripped your jumper, it’s a bit windy outside.” Utahime took the garment and immediately pulled it over her head. It felt like wrapping him around her with the smell and warmth.
She couldn’t help but smile. “How does it look?”
“Like it was made for you.” He nodded. “I wanted to take you someplace nearby. I thought we could get food to go and eat there. Is that alright?” Utahime shrugged, she was playing it cool and unaffected. But every word out of Gojo’s mouth plucked at her and made her vibrate with excitement. His voice and smell surrounded her and she was willing to go anywhere he chose as long as he kept giving her unabashed grins and longing extended looks.
He was nervous. “Just want to hang out with you. Anywhere is fine.” She walked near him and decided to be honest. They’d wasted a lot of time and ruined a lot of things by not saying what they meant. They tried not to do it anymore.
Gojo nodded and his arm rubbed hers as they walked and he could feel her through his jacket —which was brand new— and the sweatshirt she wore too. Gojo was always hyper aware of her, but this was akin to early days in school, before he had named his feelings or hoped to ever be in Utahime’s presence ever again. He felt like he was on that tightrope with her again.
“Are nuggets alright?” He gestured to the infamous fast-food restaurant.
“Yeah, it’s fine.” Utahime buried her hand in the front of her purse to pull out some change and give it to him. “I have some change for your ice cream too.”
“Some things do change after all.” His grin faltered a bit, wondering if he had said something wrong. He paid in cash before giving her back the coins. “I asked you out, it’s my shout.”
He asked her out. It thrilled Utahime so, that she just dreamily walked near him while he led her just a touch ahead of her as they exited the place.
They walked for a few minutes until arriving at Yoyogi Park, they climbed up a pretty hill and it gave a lovely view of Shibuya city and Gojo found a bench that seemed familiar to him. He sat down and Utahime loved seeing him like that. He looked cozy. ‘Like a boyfriend’ sounded in her head.
Hopefully hers at last.
She sat beside him and they ate. Gojo letting her dip some fries in his ice cream. They sat directly next to each other, in the center of the bench, though there was space on either side. Utahime wanted her thigh pressed along the length of his own. Gojo seemed content with the arrangement.
When they finished and he’d collected the trash for the nearby bin and excused himself to throw it all away. He walked back to the bench slowly and the tone of his body had changed, like he had placed weight on his shoulders. Gojo was nervous again, because they had moved on to the important talk portion of the night.
“I wanted to talk to you.” Utahime interrupted as soon as he sat down, her hips angled away. It comforted him that their knees still touched. “Since you walked in, it’s all I've thought about.”
“Did you want to talk to me before that?” Gojo found himself asking. He was happy that his presence stirred her to action and she wanted to talk to him at all. However, there was a small part of him that was left behind, waiting, and the journey that brought him here started. But he was left behind nonetheless.
“I did.” Gojo must have looked dubious to her because she firmly said. “Of course, I did! But I wasn’t ready.” She exhaled. “I was still quite angry at you Satoru. Though knowing you didn’t get married made me happier than it ought to.”
“Me too.” He sighed out.
“I regret not going to you. But then I didn’t really know how to get a hold of myself, to get a hold of you, at least that’s what I said to myself and well I wanted to punish you a little for not picking me.” Utahime looked him in the eye then.
“But I did pick you!” He pointed out. It seemed like an important point to make.
“Not really, you picked yourself.” She smiled at him then. “I’m really proud of you for that.”
Gojo felt proud of that too, but it wasn’t his primary feeling. “Do you still love me, Utahime?” If she didn’t, it would hurt. But she was here now. Close enough to smell and touch. That had to count for something.
She nodded and saw him grin widely. “Yes, I do, but I wasn’t ready, just angry. Then, well I figured it was probably too late.” At that, he hooked his pinky with hers.
“If you thought it was too late, why did you agree to go out with me?” They were touching and Gojo was trying to keep himself under control, manage his expectations, but he was like an untethered helium balloon, rising.
“Satoru,” she leveled him with a stare again. “I wasn’t brave enough to go to you. Then, when I thought you’d never set foot in Japan ever again, you walk into my last book signing. Fate was giving me a second chance; I couldn’t let it go to waste.” She unlatched their pinkies and took his whole hand. Gojo smoothed her hair that the wind was blowing over her face behind her ear. “Did you happen to read what I wrote in your book?”
They usually didn’t say enough words and tonight they had too many.
He looked confused, but let go of her hand to pull the hardback out of the bookshop bag. Gojo opened it and read. When he looked up at Utahime, the hope in his eyes matched her own.
“Yes.” He stated.
Inside was the inscription Utahime had written an hour ago.
Satoru,
Do you want to go out on a date with me?
xxx Your Utahime