Chapter Text
"Are you lost in paradise
My love or have you found a home?
It's an awfully lonely road to walk alone
But as I searched your flashing indigo eyes
It echoed true
That I loved you”
***
Arriving far too early to the Fuglen Tokyo was not a part of Gojo’s plan. It’s his nerves that made him be on time, the adrenaline— so he orders an Iced Latte to calm down.
It’s a quiet Wednesday night, but the café is filled with the usual clientele— university students drinking coffee and eating pastries, arguing about a too soon deadline for a paper they haven't started to write. Gojo sits across from the entrance, next to the till, perched on the bright, velvet cushions of a booth, and he spins a coin on the tabletop— his fingers manic from the caffeine and sugar, nervous, fidgety.
Every time the door opens, Gojo cranes his neck to see if it’s her, and his stomach clenches, flutters, relaxes every time it’s not.
He’s going to ask her to marry him.
After eight years of friendship, six months of fighting with how he feels, trying to hide it, trying to gauge if she could ever feel the same— He is just going to propose— and Gojo will have to deal with whatever happens.
But he does not mean the latter necessarily, because he is terrified of what could happen. More than fearing her rejection, Gojo is terrified that he will lose a friend— that this will change things so irreparably between them that he will lose what they have, just because Gojo hopes she might not like him back.
The door flies open again and it’s not her, as Gojo groans he thinks of the first time he met her at age twenty, they were sat next to each other in math on the first day of their last year of university, and they shared a moan about how boring Gakuganji-san seemed to be. And then when they had physics together that same day, and gushed about how much they liked Yaga sensei instead. She was so bloody reserved— perpetually anxious since her mum had up and moved to Spain the year before, constantly quiet and shy since her father and her moved from London to Tokyo— but Gojo was not. He was not particularly kind to his own friends either, but something tells him to be commiserating to this new girl and it unlocks a flow of words between them, built something that neither of them had with many people.
Before Gojo knew it, they were twenty-three, practically inseparable, walking her home and eating the crisps and soda out of each other’s kitchens while they watched reruns of Digimon. He wouldn’t call her his best friend, that was a place reserved to Suguru and perhaps Shoko when she was in a good mood, but she knew he was hers— and Gojo spent as much time with her as his best friend Suguru Geto, so she knew the truth. Guys were just weird that way, and she knew that. They sat on the phone for hours, her moaning about school, him about his parents, sharing music suggestions and desserts, and she even told Gojo that it was the best friendship she ever had— no crushes, no drama, no worries about getting their heart broken.
Maybe he shouldn’t ask her.
“You’re early!” Gojo is pulled from his own thoughts by Georgia sitting abruptly in front of him, bringing a gust of chilly, fresh air with her as she sits and grabs a cupcake to take a huge bite. Gojo’s mouth goes dry at the prospect of what he is about to do— as the sight of her makes everything excruciatingly real. “Let me get a cappuccino and more cupcakes.” She says before Gojo even said a word, because she’s just finished the last one.
Wordlessly, Gojo nods.
He watches her recite her order to the clerk, and he thinks of the moment where it all hit him, six months ago. They went to Shoko’s birthday party together— not as dates, she just suggested how weird it was that she’s never met any of his closest friends. But then they spent ages milling around together, making fun of the music and Nanami showing up in work attire, and how forced Utahime and Naoya looked when they danced. The latter was the cherry on top for Gojo, that was until Suguru approached, saying that Naoya Zenin wanted to marry Utahime, and he wanted to propose right then and there. At first Gojo’s reaction didn’t came, when it hit him, he laughed— a nervous and immature one that Geto knew better than anyone else— until Shoko joined them and suggested that they leave, Gojo agreed. And he helped Georgia grab her coat before dashing out of Shoko’s home, and he couldn’t really understand why his chest was tight, or why his eyes were burning, but after he dropped off Georgia later, he realised— in the light of the lift moving up to his flat— that he might have a crush on Utahime. Gojo hasn’t recovered— or talked to her directly— for days.
She comes back with three red velvet cupcakes and a cup of green tea, and the sight of her, the shaggy fringe falling into her big, brown eyes, the bright blue shirt under her coat, makes his chest hurt from how much he doesn’t love her, despite how far they’ve come, and he gulps his drink, feeling like he’s just missed a step going downstairs.
“Why do you look like you just seen a ghost?” Gojo shakes his head, tries to smile and laugh it off. “Did you want to get another drink?” She asks, hooking a thumb at the never-ending queue.
“Georgie,” Gojo starts suddenly, because if he doesn’t do this, he never will move on from Utahime. “I have something to ask from you.”
It’s been eight years of friendship with her but it’s also been thirteen years of fighting these feelings for Utahime Iori, of growing closer to her, back and forth, never knowing, and suddenly knowing that anyone but him will become her husband, Gojo doesn’t think he can do it anymore.
“What is it?” It’s her warm hazel eyes what gives him courage to reach for her hand, her stomach somersaults, but Gojo doesn’t stall.
“Will you marry me?” A smile is suddenly lighting up her face, and he dives in, saying, “I don’t have a ring right now, but we could go pick it out together you know, there’s no one else’s company I would enjoy more than yours for that or anything else for the rest of my life.” Georgia looks like a kid on her birthday. Her whole body is emanating excitement, happiness— her eyes are bright and big. All of her dreams are coming true and it makes Gojo’s heart shrink with despair, with genuine pity for her— after all Suguru was right, that girl had been in love with him from day zero. Still, he can’t help but beam across the table, she grabs a hold of his wrist and give it a squeeze.
“Yes Satoru! Of course, I want to marry you!” Her cheeks are pink, and Gojo looks bashful after hearing her say his name, but he laughs it off. “Oh my god I have to call my dad!” She immediately takes out her phone and walks outside, although her excitement is so loud that Gojo can still hear from the inside.
His words suddenly link together in his mind from another angle. Marriage with Georgia.
His friends were already aware of her infatuation with him. They had an ongoing bet about how long before she confessed in the most cliché way. But Gojo asking her to marry him was not on the table. This is going to be huge news. Suguru will never let him live it down, Nanami wouldn’t care and Shoko was going to murder him.
Gojo is a bit happy for him, it clashes against something in his head— how is Utahime going to be around him, who she’d known since age seventeen.
“My dad is thrilled!” Georgia announces upon joining him back, taking a drink eyeing him over the rim of her cup.
His heart feels like it’s been squeezed in his chest. What is he thrilled about? His daughter just agreed to marry a man that has never shown any interest in her. Georgia has a master’s degree in applied physics, she’s smarter than what she’s showing to be right now, she probably knows that Gojo’s doing it to leave Utahime in the past. Even if he ends up developing feelings for her too, would they stand a chance? This decision changes things— tangles up the lines between them in a new way. Gojo notices how her eyes are not the correct shade of brown.
“Great, let’s finish this up and go for that ring then.” He says instead because that’s what he just promised— and Gojo Satoru is a man of his word.
“That’s great! There’s so much to discuss, the date, the venue. Am I moving to your flat?”
Gojo nods, feeling sick to his stomach, but the resignation is setting in. This is for the best. Gojo will continue to have a good friend by his side— the way they’ve been since age twenty— He will support Utahime’s marriage too from the sidelines, perhaps tease her about her choice of groom on her wedding day, and he will move on from this adolescent crush— truly move on this time. There’s nothing keeping Utahime tied to him— sometimes he wonders if she ever considers him a friend— so Gojo needs to move out into the world too.
His soon to be wife raises her cup for a toast. “To a happy couple recently engaged.”
They clink their glasses, and it cements his determination to move on, to truly strike out in the world and forget his romantic feelings for Utahime Iori.