Archive of Our Own

Satoru didn’t think about Suguru. 

He couldn’t think about him. 

Not because the thought of his best friend, of his one and only, having left him was enough to inexplicably break him. No, he just had too much on his plate to stop and think about the other at the moment.

He had thought about him. For weeks, right after he was left in that busy street in Shinjuku staring at nothing as his world got completely tilted on its ax. He had thought about Suguru day and night. From the first moment he opened his eyes in the mornings to the restless nights spent tossing and turning until his sheer exhaustion got the better of him, he had thought about Suguru. 

He had thought about him and wondered when everything went wrong. Wondered about all the warning signs that he had missed. Wondered what pushed the other so far beyond sanity and repair. Wondered if it could have gone differently, if he could have said or done something to change the outcome or if it would have just been all futile.

He had also wondered where Suguru was at that moment, what he was doing, who he was with. He wondered if Suguru thought about him at least half as much as he thought about Suguru. Wondered if he also missed him, if he also kept glancing at his side expecting to see someone there only to be disappointed each time.

Even when he was being sent on his usual endless chain of missions, he still had thought about Suguru.

For weeks his life had consisted of just exorcizing curses and thinking about Suguru. He barely ate, barely slept, barely even talked, limiting all of his interactions to just one word answers and nods. Not that anyone ever really seeked him out to have a conversation, not anymore.

But then he decided that he had had enough of this depressing cycle. 

He had put aside all of his sorrow and confusion and anger, and all other emotions that weren’t fit for the strongest sorcerer, and focused on his duties. 

The thing that brought him out of his slump had been taking in Toji Fushiguro’s children. 

Who would have thought that the dirty scumbag would have eventually helped Satoru, though indirectly. 

All his attention and energy had been put into locating Toji’s son, which hadn’t been an easy feat given how little information he had to go off on, but he hadn’t minded since that meant finally taking his mind off a certain someone.

Meeting Megumi had been a nice change of pace. The kid was closed off and grumpy, but also quite endearing, and teasing him was very entertaining. Then he also met the boy’s step-sister, Tsumiki, and the girl was just so sweet and charming and Satoru quickly developed a soft spot for her. 

So then he had busied himself with dealing with the Zen'ins, managing to call off the deal that Toji had made with them and saving Megumi and Tsumiki.

From then on he had two young kids to look after, so that along with his schoolwork and missions was pretty time consuming, taking up all the space in the forefront of his mind.

So, in conclusion, Satoru didn’t think about Suguru anymore.  

And yes, perhaps he had also started avoiding particular places when walking through Tokyo simply because he and Suguru had been there together even just a few times in the past, and deleted a lot of songs that he had downloaded on his phone just because they had been suggested to him by a certain long haired teen, and spent his sleepless nights training his powers or walking through the city to avoid any unwanted thoughts, and took on more missions than just the ones he was assigned because even a moment of free time was dangerous for his well-being, but at least he wasn’t thinking about Suguru anymore.

He also spent a lot of time around the Fushiguro children, more than he was actually required to do. He was just their benefactor after all, he had never signed up to be their guardian or caretaker, he was just a teenager, and the kids were very independent for their age. But being with them and looking after them meant not thinking about Suguru, so he took that in stride and started popping up at their apartment at every chance he got to spend time with them and taking them wherever they wanted, spoiling them with gifts and sweets and whatever their little hearts craved.

He couldn’t be alone, couldn’t sit still. He couldn’t stop, not even for a moment. Couldn’t let his mind wander. It was dangerous. 

He had once read about some species of sharks who, in order to keep living, had to constantly keep moving, otherwise they would suffocate. He found himself suddenly relating to them.

If he stopped for even a second he too would suffocate. If he stopped he would start thinking about Suguru, and that felt as good as death to him, it felt like drowning in an ocean of regret and longing.

So he just never stopped, he put one thing after the other, kept himself busy at all times, kept his mind working, cogs in his brain turning constantly much in the same way that he kept Infinity constantly running.

As long as he wasn’t able to think about Suguru, as long as he didn’t have to acknowledge everything that had happened and everything that he felt, things were good.

Some may call it denial, he called it time management.  

And he was doing so well.

Six months had passed since the fateful day where everything changed for him. 

Which meant that the Fushiguro children had been with him for a little more than four months. Four months in which his mind and his heart had been completely, well almost , free of Suguru.

But, as he had previously noticed, nothing in his life ever went how he wanted it to. 

It had actually been a good couple of weeks until that point.

That day he had managed a few hours of peaceful sleep without any nightmares about being left alone to stare at a familiar retreating back in the middle of Shinjuku. He had attended morning classes without getting into a fight with Yaga, then briefly left for a quick mission, easily exorcizing the Grade One curse, and once he was done, since he was close to Megumi and Tsumiki’s elementary school had decided to wait for them and take them for a walk around Tokyo.

Megumi had huffed tiredly when he had caught sight of him outside the school gates, but Tsumiki had beamed and ran up to him like the sweetheart that she was, and when Satoru had offered to buy them waffles even Megumi had looked almost excited. 

And so the three of them found themselves walking around through busy streets with big waffles in their hands, Satoru stopping every few paces to look through the windows shops and bakeries that they passed by, dragging the two bored kids along by the hand since he had been the first one to finish his waffle.

And that was when it happened for the first time.

Just as Satoru was standing in front of the window of a new, tiny but cute bakery, pointing out excitedly to a very bored Megumi how good the frosted cupcakes looked, the very thing that he had been trying to block out from his mind came barrelling back straight into his life, knocking down the measly walls that he had been building for four months. 

“Hey, Satoru.”

And for the first time in four months, he stopped moving.

He froze. He wasn’t even sure whether he was still breathing at all.

Just like a shark, he was suffocating.

The familiar voice had perfectly reached his ears despite the noise of the city and its natural soft timbre. Of course it did. He would be able to pick out that voice through any crowd, would be able to hear it through a thunderstorm. Like it was his natural calling, like his heart was attuned to the harp strings residing in that throat, like the blood in his veins pulsed at the same frequency of that voice calling his name, like he was a cobra and that voice was the melody of a flute.

And so that familiar tune hypnotized him, and despite his better judgment he turned around, like Orpheus turning back at the sound of his lover’s voice, eternally damning them both. 

His eyes widened when they met with the warm violet haunting his dreams and nightmares. 

He knew that voice, knew that it couldn’t belong to anyone else, but a part of him had still thought, hoped , that he had been mistaken. Or perhaps that he was finally starting to lose it and hearing voices in his head.

But no such luck.

Because standing before him was none other than Suguru Geto. 

Satoru just stared for a few seconds, looking very much like a deer caught in headlights.

Suguru looked completely normal, body relaxed as he stood casually with a hand shoved in the pocket of his jacket, the other raised in a friendly wave, and a lazy smile on his face that made his eyes crinkle at the corners, hair neatly styled in the same way that they had been last Satoru had seen him.

He looked healthier than he remembered. He had gained back the weight and muscle that he had lost when stuck in that downward mental spiral and he looked well rested. His smile seemed genuine.

He looked just like a normal teenager greeting an old friend.

No one would be able to tell that he had murdered an entire village in cold blood just by looking at him.

Satoru felt anger spiking in his chest, breaking him out of his initial stupor. 

Without a second thought he yanked both Tsumiki and Megumi back to stand behind him, his stance clearly protective. 

It was more out of anger and resentment for the other teen rather than out of actual fear for the kids’ safety, though there was a frantic voice in the back of his mind reminding him that Tsumiki was a non-sorcerer.

That single thought urged him to turn to the little girl, expression more serious than she probably has ever seen on him.

“You two go ahead and get home, you know the way from here, right?”

She nodded, though confusion was clear on her face, and she opened her mouth to probably question him, but he beat her to it.

“Just go, okay? I’ll reach you as soon as I can, I gotta take care of something first. Be careful, alright?”

While still clearly hesitant, she finally nodded. She took Megumi’s hand, the boy still staring curiously at the unknown man that had interrupted their outing, and gently tugged him along as she hurried in the direction of their apartment.

Satoru felt bad about leaving them to walk alone back home, but it wasn’t like they weren’t already used to walking around by themselves. They had been living alone for a while after all, and even now he didn’t really have the time to walk them to and from school every single day, so it wasn’t anything new. As long as they were together Satoru wasn’t worried. His training with Megumi had just started but the boy was a natural, so Satoru trusted that if it came down to it the little boy would be able to protect them both, at least long enough to call for his help.

When his eyes traveled back to Suguru, pinning him down with a hard glare, the man was staring at him with a newfound glint of curiosity in his dark eyes, head slightly cocked to the side.

Still, he gave Satoru another kind smile and asked: “Wanna grab a coffee? My treat.”

Satoru scoffed, folding his arms to his chest and glaring daggers at the man, carefully keeping his distance.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“What? You don’t like coffee anymore?” Suguru had the gall to tease, arching an eyebrow with amusement. As if nothing had changed between them. As if they were still just second years casually hanging out after classes. As if they were still best friends who couldn’t help but bicker at every little thing just to make up again in the blink of an eye.

Satoru seethed in anger.

“You have some fucking nerve! What, you finally feel like talking to me? After ignoring all of my calls? After leaving for your personal fucked up crusade? After fucking disappearing off the face of Earth for six fucking months?!” He spat out, finally taking a long step forward to end up face to face with the other, who actually looked a bit apologetic now. Not that Satoru cared.

“And after all of that you seriously just pop back up out of the fucking blue to ask me if I wanna get coffee?! Are you fucking nuts?! Oh wait, don’t answer that: I already know you are.”

Suguru pressed his lips together, voice smooth like honey as he used that damn placating tone that he brought out everytime Satoru was pissed off to calm him down. “I know that this must be a lot. I’m sorry for ambushing you like this, I would have given you a heads up, but I don’t really think that would have helped much.”

Satoru sighed, hating how that tone still managed to calm him down. He convinced himself that it was just instinct, conditioning after spending three years with the other, that it didn’t have anything to do with the man himself.

“How did you even find me?”

Suguru smiled, a familiar playfulness to it. “Would you believe me if I told you it was destiny that brought me to you?”

“Fuck off, I’m not joking.” Satoru glared without missing a beat. “Have you been tracking me?”

“Well, have you been tracking me ?”

“I certainly tried.” Satoru scoffed bitterly. “Didn’t have much luck, though, you slippery bastard.”

Suguru laughed, as if Satoru wasn’t close to decking him in the face right then.

“I’m just being very careful. You, on the other hand, are an easy person to find. You did always have the ability of standing out in a crowd.”

Satoru was done with him. He wasn’t going to give into whatever the other was trying to do. He wasn’t going to put everything that happened aside and just stand there joking around and reminiscing about the old times with the man who had abandoned him to pursue the life of a murderer.

“Whatever twisted game you’re trying to play, go find someone else to entertain you and leave me the fuck alone.” He seethed, turning around to leave.

“Wait!”

Satoru hated himself. 

He hated himself for being so weak. Hated himself because, even if he was completely furious at Suguru, he still couldn’t bring himself to ignore his call. He hated himself as he came to an abrupt halt and glanced back at the other.

He wondered if Suguru was aware of the power he held over him, if he knew that he held the strongest sorcerer of the modern age right in the palm of his hand, malleable and pliant under his fingertips.

All his life, everyone tried to control Satoru without ever managing to. 

Only Suguru had been able to.

Satoru used to find it morbidly amusing: the only one who could have actually used him as a weapon, like everyone in the jujutsu world so desperately wanted to, was actually the only one who saw him as a human being. The trigger sat right under his fingers but he was the only one who had never even considered pulling it. 

Satoru remembers standing in a crowded room, his senses dulled down to nothing, only faintly feeling the weight of the lifeless body of a little girl he had grown to care about in his arms and the loud clapping echoing in the big room. He remembers registering only Suguru’s presence, the only thing that actually felt real in that moment, the only thing anchoring him to reality. He remembers the question that he had asked the other boy: 

“Suguru, should we kill these guys?”

He remembers how he had offered himself to him, offered himself as the weapon he was raised to be, putting himself on a leash and handing it to Suguru, loading the gun and pointing it in the right direction, waiting only for the trigger to be pulled. 

Suguru had refused back then. 

He had never once accepted to use Satoru in the same way that so many people would fight tooth and nail to.

Satoru found himself wondering if Suguru would act differently now, if given the chance.

He wondered if, in his desperate longing for the world he wanted to create through blood and fear, he would even hesitate to use Satoru, to make him into the deadly weapon he was destined to be.

The thought terrified him.

Because, rationally, he convinced himself that even if the other did, he wouldn’t give in. He told himself that the trust and respect that he had held for his best friend in that crowded room as he laid himself bare for Suguru to use were long gone.

And yet as his legs disobeyed his mind and stopped at Suguru’s call, he found himself fearing that he was wrong.

“I’m not playing any games, I swear. I just want to talk to you.” Suguru said, almost pleading. 

And wasn’t it ironic how the tables had turned?

This time Satoru was the one set to leave while Suguru begged him to stay as the world kept spinning as if in slow-motion, as people kept going on about their day all around them, unaware of the fate-altering moment that the two sorcerers were sharing.

However, contrary to what Suguru had decided to do that fateful day six months before, Satoru stayed.

He didn’t know if that made him stronger or weaker. 

And so that’s how Satoru found himself sitting at a secluded table in the bakery that he had been ogling at, waiting impatiently for Suguru since the other had insisted on going himself to order their coffees.

It only took a few minutes for the teen to walk over to him, balancing two cups of coffee and a cupcake in his hands.

Satoru hadn’t even told him that he had been eyeing those cupcakes, but Suguru had always been able to read him like a book. Once upon a time that fact used to make him giddy, now it just made him angry.

“Here you go.” Suguru smiled as he laid the cupcake and the bigger cup of coffee before him, taking the seat opposite of him and taking a sip of his own, most likely black coffee in silence.

Satoru didn’t grace him with a reply, simply grabbing the offered coffee and taking a few big gulps. 

A familiar milky sweet and caramel-like taste washed down his throat, slightly soothing the bitterness that he had been swallowing back ever since he locked eyes with his former friend.

“You still remember my usual order?” He couldn’t stop himself from asking, staring down at the brown liquid with furrowed brows.

“Of course I do.” Suguru replied easily, and though Satoru didn’t look back up at him, he could feel the smirk in his voice. “It’s so awful that it just gets stuck in your mind. It’s truly a wonder how you haven’t developed diabetes from all that sugar yet.”

The teasing was warm and familiar. Satoru’s spike of real annoyance wasn’t.

“And what if my usual order changed these past few months, huh? You just assumed that I wanted this? You didn’t even ask me first? How arrogant.” He bit back, eyes burning with defiance as he glared at the other.

Suguru just hummed and cocked his head to the side, looking simply amused by the accusation. “Did it?”

“Huh?”

“Did your usual order change?”

Satoru decided to not dignify him with an answer, stubbornly turning his head away with a huff.

Suguru took it as a victory, given the grin that spread over his face. 

Satoru really wanted to punch him.

Tense silence fell over their table, Suguru calmly sipping his coffee while Satoru took a few angry bites of his cupcake, tapping furiously his fingers against the table and looking everywhere but at the other.

After a while Suguru broke the silence, his voice still so damn casual as he commented, “Nice weather today-”

“Oh my fucking God.” Satoru snapped, giving the other an incredulous look. “You seriously did not just start talking about the fucking weather.”

“Just trying to make small talk.” Suguru shrugged, looking a bit sheepish, and Satoru groaned in annoyance.

“Cut the bullshit, already! Why are you here? What do you want from me?”

Suguru sighed, putting down his coffee and looking Satoru in the eye, the playfulness from earlier replaced with seriousness.

“I wanted to see you.”

Satoru scoffed. “Yeah, right.”

“I mean it.” Suguru insisted, gentler. “I missed you, ‘Toru.”

The white haired sorcerer ignored how his heart skipped a bit at that, grasping instead at the rage still fizzing under his skin.

“Well, you should have thought of that before murdering an entire village and disappearing off the face of Earth! I called you so many times, I searched everywhere for you! You’re the one who ran off like a coward!”

Suguru sighed and lowered his gaze, though it didn’t look apologetic in the slightest. 

“I was busy, there was a lot that I had to do. There’s a lot that I still have to do. Building a new life is a very difficult thing to do.” He explained slowly, gently, as if talking to a toddler. Satoru’s scowl deepened.

“What, you changed your name and bought tickets to Mexico? Lame plan. Kinda overdone if you ask me.”

Suguru laughed at his snarky comment, not looking bothered in the slightest. “Not exactly. I can’t go into detail, but I’ve been building the foundation of my mission. Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere. I’m starting right here.”

“Your mission?” Satoru raised his eyebrows skeptically. “I see that you’re still holding on to that dumb genocidal shit you were spouting about last time we saw each other, huh?”

Suguru’s expression hardened at that, the patient and indulging amused attitude from earlier suddenly gone. “Call it what you want, but I don’t regret my choice, Satoru.”

The white haired sorcerer barked out a humorless laugh. “Then you’re fucking insane.”

Apparently that was enough to snap Suguru’s last thread of patience.

“What’s insane is this world!” He hissed, eyes fiery as he slammed his coffee down and leaned forward. “What’s insane is this fucked up system that forces us to protect the very same people that are killing us!”

“Oh, and so murder is the answer?!” Satoru scoffed. Suguru took a deep breath, steeling himself.

“If you want a healthy garden, you have to be willing to remove the weeds.” He stated confidently, looking like a monk spouting empty teachings and imparting superficial wisdom. Satoru didn’t know whether to laugh or hit him in the face.

“Oh, don’t give me that bullshit! You can use all the pretty metaphors you want, it’s still just plain old murder.”

“You’re the one who can’t look at the big picture!” Suguru retaliated with an annoyed huff. “Is this the most pleasant way to improve the world? Of course not! I know that it’s ugly and gruesome, but you have to see the big picture! One day the benefits will outweigh the costs.”

Satoru looked at him incredulously. Was this truly the same guy who had been hounding him for years about their ‘ duty to protect those who can’t protect themselves’ ? It was difficult to believe.

“The end doesn’t justify the means.” 

“I disagree with you.” Suguru calmly replied, as if they were simply arguing about which Star Wars movie was the best one or which Digimon character was the strongest, instead of whether genocide could be justified or not. The stark absurdity of it all almost gave Satoru whiplash. “The end is the one thing that truly matters.”

Suguru took a big sigh, leaning back on the chair and shaking his head under the other’s disbelieving gaze.

“Satoru,” he continued, sounding like a disappointed parent, “you know better than anyone that our system is deeply twisted. Weren’t you the one who always talked about changing it? Or were all those good intentions you spoke of nothing but lies?”

“Of course they weren’t!” He bit back, appalled.

“And yet, you’re still acting like an obedient puppy to the higher ups.” Suguru accused, sharp and unforgiving. “You’re still acting like nothing more than a pretty weapon in their hands. For all your big talk about being The Strongest, you’re still letting yourself be used , you’re still complicit in this fucked up system that sends kids to their death without any remorse just to protect people who don’t deserve it, people who don’t even know what we’re giving up to protect them! You can judge me and call me immoral all you want, but I’m the one who’s actually doing something to change things.”

“And what do you think that I should do, huh?” Satoru scoffed with a cocked eyebrow. “Kill all the higher ups?”

“Yes.” Suguru answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, as if Satoru had just asked him whether the sky was blue, and Satoru couldn’t help the nervous, almost maniacal giggle that escaped him.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Why wouldn’t I be? It’s a perfectly acceptable plan. After all, who could stop you? You could just kill them, take control and reform the jujutsu world. The problem of non-sorcerers and curses would still exist, of course, but I’m already working on that, as you know.” The teen smirked, playful but sincere as he added teasingly: “It would be pretty romantic if you think about it: us changing the world together. So sweet.”

“Oh yeah, the two of us standing on top of all the dead bodies of the people we murdered, how fucking romantic !” The white haired sorcerer bit back with all the snark he could manage. “Plus, killing the higher ups won’t make any difference. You kill one and there’s another one ready to replace them right away. It’s pointless, like ripping a weed only for another one to immediately grow after. And the same goes for your dumb plan: you’ll never manage to actually kill all non-sorcerers. So, for fuck’s sake, would you finally stop throwing away your life doing something so pointless?!”

Suguru sighed, looking actually hurt as he lowered his head and ran a hand through his long raven hair. “I thought you, of all people, would be able to understand.”

Satoru scowled, a retort ready on the tip of his tongue, but the other continued before he could open his mouth, violet eyes dead serious as they raised back up to meet cerulean ones.

“Satoru, I can’t give up now. Not when I’ve finally found a purpose. I couldn’t go on how I was for a moment more. I was completely hollow, broken, stuck in this endless, meaningless cycle of pain and suffering. I couldn’t bear the thought of spending the rest of my life like that: exorcize, ingest, mourn and repeat . Everything felt heavy, suffocating. Everything felt meaningless.”

The white haired sorcerer felt some of his anger wash away at that, at the reminder of the suffering that the other had gone through.

Because Suguru had clearly been suffering. For months, before his defection, he had been walking around as just a hollow shell of the person he had once been. And Satoru noticed it. Everyone noticed, but no one did anything.

Suguru was a broken person, a kid broken by all the death and loss that his too-young heart had to bear, afflicted by a certain kind of pain that ended up weighing on his soul and sense of self until they splintered under the pressure. 

And yet no one helped him. 

Satoru blamed himself.

Rationally, he knew that most of the blame rested upon the jujutsu system for not having protected Suguru from everything he had to witness in the first place and then not offering him or any other sorcerer any kind of support. But he already knew that the system was fucked up. The higher ups never cared about any of the sorcerers that they used like disposable toy soldiers, everyone knew that.

However, Satoru was his best friend, maybe even something more. And he still did nothing.

He was so focused on himself, on his own grief, anger and stress, that he neglected his best friend’s declining mental health.

He just buried himself in missions, exorcizing curse after curse after curse after curse… Training and practicing constantly in order to get stronger and stronger, in order to become the god he was meant to be.

The funny thing was that he had done that for Suguru. Being faced with his own mortality and unlocking his unlimited potential had been the major factors for his sudden obsessive search for more power, but Suguru had been a big part of it too. 

Because if Satoru had been stronger during the Star Plasma mission, if he hadn’t let himself be so easily played and defeated by Toji Fushiguro, things would have ended up very differently. Suguru would have never had to witness Amanai’s death and he wouldn’t have gotten so badly hurt. 

He took that mission as his own failure, and set his mind on learning from it.

He decided that he had to get stronger, at all costs. Only then he would be able to protect everyone dear to him. Only then he would be able to protect Suguru.

Oh, how badly that had turned out.

Irony can be a cruel thing. 

His very need to protect his friend had caused his doom.

Because if only he hadn’t been so damn power-hungry, if only he hadn’t been so self centered, if only he had found the time and lucidity of mind to fully take in how awful Suguru looked, if only he had bothered to do more than a simple “Are you okay?” and “Are you sure? ” in passing between one mission and the other, things might have been different. They might still be okay.

And so, Satoru blamed himself.

“You may be right.” Suguru continued, unaware of the inner turmoil that his words had awoken in the other. “I may never achieve my goal. I may die having just barely scratched the surface of my mission, and there’s no guarantee that someone will be willing to carry it on when I’m gone. But at least now I have a purpose. At least now I actually feel like I’m doing something , like I’m doing something good!”

Suguru was smiling. Satoru couldn’t remember the last time that he had seen him smile before defecting.

“Can’t you understand, Satoru?” The dark haired man urged, almost pleadingly. “Now my life finally has meaning!”

And Satoru… Satoru felt like crying.

He hasn’t cried since that very day where the other left, but right now he couldn’t help feeling so fragile, as if standing at the edge of a precipice and ready to fall and shatter at the barest gust of wind.

He hated it. He hated this. He hated how the only person that ever understood him in life was suffering so badly and he hadn’t been able to do anything. He hated how the only person who ever showed him care left him. He hated feeling so alone, he hated feeling so helpless, he hated the unfamiliar self doubt and self loathing burning in his throat and at the corners of his eyes. He hated having Suguru sit right in front of him and still feeling an ocean away from him. 

“Wasn’t I enough to give your life meaning?” 

His voice felt foreign to himself, not used to it sounding so feeble and sad and… broken.

Suguru probably wasn’t used to this either, as his eyes widened slightly at the remark. He froze on the spot, appearing for the first time in their whole conversation incredibly unsure of himself.

He hesitated, his gaze finally breaking away from Satoru to stare down at the cup of coffee in his hands only to then raise again to the other sorcerer. 

He leaned forward, hand slowly sliding on the table, closer to Satoru’s as if wanting to reach out, but stopping at the very last second, hovering near but never touching. 

Satoru was used to things not touching him anymore, prided himself even in his continuous use of Infinity, but now he found himself hating the lack of contact.

“I’m doing this for you too, y’know? For your sake.” Suguru gently prompted, his voice honey sweet. Satoru almost let himself melt under the sirupy warmth of those violet eyes. Almost.

But if Satoru Gojo is one thing, he is stubborn.

“What the fuck?!” He snapped, planting his claws on his anger and gripping it like a lifeline because the other alternative was just too pathetic to even consider. “How is any of this for my sake?! How is abandoning me something that you did for my sake?!”

“Because this world is hurting you, too.” Suguru calmly rebutted, tone almost condescending, as if he was explaining basic math to a child. “Everyone may treat you like one, but you aren’t a god. You’re a human, and yet you’re treated like a weapon. You’re being used, Satoru.”

The white haired sorcerer scoffed, looking ready to argue, but Suguru didn’t let him, his tone infuriatingly patronizing.

“Aren’t you tired of this life? Aren’t you tired of cleaning up everyone else’s mess? Aren’t you exhausted from this endless cycle of fighting and exorcizing and watching everyone around you die? You’re not a god. You’re gonna break under all this pressure eventually. But they don’t see that, they don’t care about that! They will continue using you until you break, and then they will just search for a new weapon.” 

Suguru finally broke the distance between them, gently but fiercely grasping Satoru’s hand in his own, eyes intense and a little crazed as he kept talking animatedly. “But, if there were no curses, if there were no battles to fight, if there wasn’t the need for a weapon… then you could finally just be you! Just Satoru, the mortal man. You see why this is for your sake, too? I want the rest of the world to see you how I see you!”

Satoru stared down at their joined hands for just a second. He allowed himself to have that touch, that comfort, for only a second. 

Then he tore his gaze away and tugged his hand out of the other’s grasp, rejecting that same touch that he couldn’t help but crave.

His voice was snipped, cold, and he made sure to keep his head turned away as he gritted out, “I don’t need you fighting pointless battles for me. I’m not someone you need to save, I can handle myself just fine. Don’t use me as a way to justify your shitty life decisions.”

Silence followed his icy statement. He didn’t turn to see what expression the other was making, but he could feel his dejection in the loud sigh that he let out.

“I knew you wouldn’t understand.” Suguru commented, sounding pained. “You’ve always been too stubborn. Well, I guess that there’s nothing left for me to say, then. It was nice seeing you again, Satoru.” 

Satoru’s heart stopped for a moment.

He snapped his head back towards the other only to see him getting up from his seat, in the process of leaving. 

Leaving him, once again.

Satoru should have let him go. 

He should have stayed silent and kept his gaze trained downwards as the love of his life walked out on him for what would probably be the last time. 

Every single thing that Suguru had said during that conversation had been so wrong , so deeply unsettling, almost uncanny. Because though they had the very same face and voice, this wasn’t the same noble and kind hearted boy he had grown to know. This was a shadow of him, a poorly made facsimile.

It was as if the real Suguru had been broken to pieces, shattered into sharp glass shards, and someone tried to glue him back together, but the pieces were put together all wrong, and now all that was left was a warbled and crooked image of the person that he had once been. 

However, it also was undoubtedly Suguru, and Satoru couldn’t seem to ignore that. Even if the pieces had been put together in the wrong order, they were pieces of him . He was still Suguru, just different.

And, despite everything, Satoru was not ready yet to let go of him.

He was addicted, clinging tightly onto whatever he could grasp of him, desperately in need of his fix, desperately searching for that high that he had once known. 

He should have let him go.

Instead, Satoru scrambled to his feet, looking just as panicked as he felt, and blurted out, “Where- where are you going?”

Suguru sighed without even turning around. “Don’t worry, I won’t bother you anymore.”

“But- you haven’t even finished your coffee!” Satoru cringed at his own lame excuse, but apparently it was good enough for the other to stop in his tracks and look back at him over his shoulder. 

Suguru’s expression was puzzled, head slightly cocked to the side in a silent question and eyes analyzing as he tried to understand Satoru’s sudden odd behavior. 

Satoru took a deep breath, trying to settle down the thrumming of his heart and the trembling of his fingers, before looking back up at the other, eyes pleading.

“We can talk about something else, anything else. Just- I- don’t leave. Not again. Please.”

Suguru couldn’t quite hide his shock at that.

It was understandable, after all Satoru rarely showed this type of vulnerability. He rarely sounded so small. And he never pleaded.

But times had changed, and if Suguru could transform so drastically that he became a murderer, then Satoru could learn to embrace his vulnerability. 

Only with Suguru, though.

Once he recovered from his shock, Suguru blinked a few times, his expression shifting to something both sad and fond. He said nothing, but slowly turned around. After a brief moment of hesitation, he finally nodded and sat back down. 

Satoru felt some of the tension in his shoulders ease, though he wouldn’t call himself relieved. He was still incredibly anxious, because now he would have to deal with what he had asked for. 

Slowly, stiffly, he also sat back down, eyeing carefully the other as if afraid that he would take off at any moment.

A deeply awkward silence fell over the two as they sat there, just staring at one another. 

Suguru didn’t seem intent on breaking it first, he just kept gazing curiously at Satoru, waiting for his next move.

Satoru cleared his throat, nervously looking around and then back at the other, glad for his sunglasses and the partial cover that they offered to hide away his nervousness. 

“By the way,” he tried his best to sound casual, “I didn’t get a chance to tell you earlier, but I like the new hairstyle.”

Suguru smiled at that, an amused and sly thing, arching one eyebrow teasingly.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Satoru croaked out, face annoyingly warm. “I always like it when you let your hair down.”

Suguru’s smile turned softer at that, warm and genuine. “Thank you.”

Satoru simply hummed in reply, taking a sip of his now cold coffee just to have something to do with his hands.

“I’ve been wondering ever since I saw you: who were those children you were with?” Suguru asked after a few more moments of silence, clearly curious, and Satoru blinked, not having expected that question. 

“Oh. Those were Tsumiki and Megumi. They’re kind of under my care now, it’s a pretty long story.” He shrugged casually, knowing that there was no way in hell that he would tell Suguru that they were the children of Toji Fushiguro. That would for sure disrupt the temporary peace and fake normalcy that they were trying to achieve. 

“Really? Wow.” Suguru whistled in surprise. “Gojo Satoru taking in two children?”

“Crazy, I know.”

“Yeah, that definitely wasn’t on my bingo card.”

Satoru actually laughed at that, shaking his head in agreement. “Yeah, it wasn’t on mine either. It just kind of happened. They needed someone and you know how impulsive I can be.”

“Oh yeah, I know.” Suguru smirked, looking as if he was thinking back to all of the crazy messes they used to get into all the time as classmates just because of Satoru’s recklessness. 

“Oh, and get this: Megumi is a Zen’in.” Satoru added dramatically, brought back to every time he and Suguru sat together in a bakery like this one as Satoru shared with the other the latest juicy gossip between the clans or higher ups.

Suguru’s eyes widened and he looked close to spitting out the coffee he had been sipping, coughing a few times. “Fuck, really?”

“Yeah!” Satoru laughed. “Craziest thing, man. He was raised by- by someone else, and then once his technique started developing he was going to be sold to the Zen’ins. Just the kind of fucked up shit you would expect from them, by the way. So I swooped in and asked him if he wanted to go to the Zen’ins. He obviously was like ‘ hell no’ because who would ever want to live with those assholes, and so I snatched him and his step-sister up before those jerks could get their filthy paws on them and traumatize them too.” 

He had obviously left a few details out, but the story was coherent and truthful enough, and Suguru nodded with vivid interest, taking a few seconds to process it. 

“Damn, the three clans really suck.” He huffed out, taking another sip of his coffee, and Satoru huffed.

“Tell me about it.”

This felt familiar. They had plenty of conversations like these in the past. 

Even before the Star Plasma mission, they both were aware of how messed up the sorcerer world was, and often enjoyed discussing it, criticizing its many flaws and corruption, daydreaming about changing the system like the two naive and idealistic teens that they had been. They might have disagreed on a lot of things, but on this they used to see eye to eye: they truly believed that they would better the jujutsu world, overturning its conservative and abusive ways. 

And perhaps neither of them actually stopped believing that. 

Too bad that their ideas of bettering the jujutsu world had become very different from one another. 

“Saving those kids was very kind of you, Satoru.” Suguru spoke up after a while, genuine and affectionate, almost reverent in the way he gazed fondly at him.

Satoru avoided his gaze and leaned back on his chair, trying to ignore both the flutter of his heart at the compliment and the contrasting bitterness rising in his throat. If only Suguru knew the whole picture he might have felt differently. After all, not only was Megumi the son of the man that ruined both their lives, but Tsumiki was a non-sorcerer. Would he still call Satoru kind if he told him that? Or would he just call him foolish?

“It’s whatever.” He shrugged dismissively, not wanting to ponder on it any longer. “Megumi’s a little shit, though.”

Suguru grinned. “Must be the Zen’in genes.”

Satoru barked out a loud but genuine laugh. “Ha! Totally!” 

“Tell me more about them.” Suguru softly prompted, leaning one elbow on the table and supporting his head with the palm of his hand, glittering violet eyes staring at Satoru as if he was the most interesting thing in the world. “And about you, and what you have been up to these past few months.”

Satoru wanted to hide from those eyes but at the same time he felt like he was only ever truly alive underneath that warm gaze. As if it was a spotlight and without it he had just been stumbling through life in the dark. As if Suguru was the Sun and without its rays he had just been slowly withering and rotting.

If Suguru was the Sun, then Satoru was the Moon. He shined only from refracted light. He was made to be watched by Suguru, made to eternally orbit around him, to chase the shadows away by taking whatever Suguru was willing to give him. 

And so Satoru accepted the light that shined on him and started talking. He talked about small, futile things, keeping away from the deeper topics, steering clear of the pit of depression that he had fallen into after Suguru left, of his desperate research of constant distractions to keep him free of unwanted thoughts, of his initiative to start taking even more missions than the ones that were normally assigned to him just to keep himself numb, of his insomnia, his nightmares, his fights with Yaga and Shoko, his complex and turbulent relationship with Megumi. He mentioned none of that.

He just talked about the easier, little things. He talked about Tsumiki’s love for princesses and the countless movie nights spent watching Disney movies just for her, about his and Megumi’s ongoing fight about wether Pokemon or Digimon was better, about his first attempt at baking with the kids which ended in disaster, about the weird frog-looking curse he had exorcized the other day, about Shoko’s newer attempt and consequent failure at quitting smoking, and whatever else came to mind.

And Suguru listened, like he always did. 

Time flew by and soon the bakery started closing up, forcing the two to finally get up from their seats and exit the small shop.

It was dark outside, and the air was chilly and sharp, making Satoru shiver in his light jacket.

Tense silence engulfed them once again as they stood outside of the closing shop in silence.

Satoru dreaded what was about to come. 

He wanted to stay there, to keep talking with Suguru as if everything was fine, to keep living in this small fantasy in which they were still best friends and life was good. 

But he couldn’t. 

There were people relying on him now. He could no longer be selfish like he so desperately wanted to. 

“I should get going.” He said, trying not to let his hesitance show in his voice.

Suguru nodded with an understanding smile. “Yeah, me too. We kind of lost track of time, huh?”

“Yeah.”

Satoru shuffled his feet a little, avoiding Suguru’s gaze.

Until a gentle hand landed on his shoulder, urging him to look up into warm violet eyes. 

“It was great seeing you again, Satoru. I really missed you.”

Satoru numbly nodded, barely even registering the pinkness of his ears over his racing thoughts and growing dread. 

Suguru patted him once on the shoulder before he turned around and started walking away.

“Wait!” Satoru called out before he could stop himself, making the other glance back at him. “Will I see you again?”

Suguru looked hesitant as he debated the question to himself. But then he looked into Satoru’s pleading eyes and his lips curled back up into his usual kind smile.

“Yeah. I think so.”

And with that he was gone. 

And at that moment Satoru realized that he was utterly fucked.

The second time it happened, things didn't go as smoothly.

It hadn’t been long after that first meeting, just a couple of months or so, probably one of the shortest breaks in between what ended up becoming their secret meetings.

And while the affection and warmth of that day were still fresh in Satoru’s mind, so was the shame and the anger.

To make matters worse, it was just a couple of days before Suguru barged once again into his life that he found himself in a meeting with Yaga and the higher ups about the murder of many members of the former Star Religious group and their respective families. Residuals of cursed energy had been found at the scenes of the crime identified as those of the by then highly feared curse user Suguru Geto. 

Satoru had done his best to keep himself together during the meeting, staying unusually quiet and steeling his expression into a cold, unbothered one, ignoring the slightly puzzled and almost worried looks that Yaga had kept sending him. 

He could understand killing off the assholes behind that shady religious group, after all he himself had considered it in the past, though he hadn’t exactly been in his right mind when he did. What upset him was the unnecessary involvement of their families, innocent people, even innocent children, in the murder spree.

It became clear to him that there was no turning back for Suguru. He didn’t value life anymore, unless it belonged to a sorcerer. 

Satoru had never been one to truly believe in the deep rooted value of all life or other self-righteous shit like that. He hadn’t been adverse to getting his hands dirty in the process of trying to achieve something bigger.

But recently he found that his views on life and morality had changed. 

In some ways it was as if he had taken upon himself Suguru’s old morals, almost as if trying to maintain the legacy of a man long gone.

He found himself actually valuing other people aside from their strength. He found himself caring about others’ lives, caring enough to want to protect them, no longer doing it just out of duty. He could no longer bring himself to remain unaffected by the slaughter of innocent lives, especially the lives of the youth.

Perhaps this new found sense of empathy that he had lacked for most of his life was also due to the two kids he found himself tasked with protecting. 

He had never had to look after someone, not in the way that he did the Fushiguro siblings. He had always just been by himself, only letting in people strong enough to stand at his level, just like Suguru had been. He had never felt protective like he did with those two children. He had protected countless people from curses, but that had always been out of duty rather than actual care for those he had to defend. 

The only other time he had felt this kind of genuine care and protectiveness had been with Amanai Riko.

He had failed Riko, and it caused him an immeasurable amount of pain. He couldn’t afford to fail once again.

Everything that he had gone through in the past two years, all the loss and the pain and the grief, had changed him. Some might argue that they had made him into someone better. Perhaps in some ways he should be grateful. He wasn’t. If given the chance he would have easily chosen to not go through any of that and remain the shitty and immature teen he used to be.

Still, changing the past was something that even he couldn’t do, so he was stuck with his new found morals and self righteous anger.

So, to put it briefly, Satoru was pissed off at Suguru.

Which is why when his former best friend popped back into his life with the same easy-going smile and casualness from their last encounter, his reaction was all but pleasant.

It had been a quiet evening spent at the Fushiguro siblings’ apartment. Satoru had been lazing on the couch, exhausted after a long day of high-level missions, exchanging teasing comments with Megumi while the kid did his homework, sat on the floor, elementary school textbooks sprawled all over the small coffee table. Tsumiki was in the kitchen grabbing a few snacks to get ready for their weekly movie night. 

The sound of the doorbell ringing interrupted Satoru as he was trying to explain subtraction to the confused six year old, and he groaned, not wanting to get up from his cozy perch on the couch. 

“Tsumiki, could you get it? It should be the pizza that we ordered. My wallet is on the kitchen counter.” He called out to the girl instead of doing the responsible adult thing and getting up himself to do it, ignoring the judgmental look that Megumi was giving him. 

“Okay!” Tsumiki chirped back, bubbly and ready to help as always. 

Satoru relaxed back onto the couch, sticking out his tongue in Megumi’s direction and making the kid roll his eyes before going back to his homework. 

“Uhm, Satoru?” Tsumiki called out after a few moments from the front entrance of the house. The man sighed, hoping that the delivery man hadn’t gotten their order mixed up once again. 

“Yeah?”

“It’s not the pizza. It’s a man, he says that he’s your friend.” Tsumiki’s head popped into the living room from behind the corner, and Satoru’s head snapped towards her at that, a confused frown overtaking his face.

Because, though he would never admit it, he didn’t have that many friends. He had very few, in fact. The only people that he considered his friends were Shoko and Nanami, and Tsumiki knew both of them, so she wouldn’t treat them like strangers. 

The only other option was-

Satoru sprang up from the couch as if it had burned him, ignoring Megumi and Tsumiki’s confused looks as he strode over to the girl, heart nearly beating out of his ribcage and a manic look in his eyes as he prayed to whoever deity that his intuition had been wrong.

Of course, it wasn’t. 

Standing there at the entrance of the apartment that he had done his best to keep secret to everyone except a few trusted people, was Suguru. 

“Hey, Satoru. How have you been?” The man smiled, and Satoru felt the last threads of his patience snap. 

“Nope. Not doing this. Get the fuck out of here before I make you.” 

Suguru actually looked taken aback by his hostility, as if Satoru was the one out of line. As if he hadn’t just knocked on the door of the apartment where the kids he was looking after lived only a few days after going on a massive killer spree. As if he hadn’t most definitely used illegal methods to get this address. 

“Satoru, I just wanted to talk to you. I’m sorry for intruding, that wasn’t my intention.” Suguru said placatingly, looking incredibly earnest in his apology. His eyes briefly glanced away from the white haired sorcerer before returning on him almost immediately, but Satoru had caught it either way. He turned back to see what the other had glanced at, only to see both Tsumiki and Megumi looking curiously and a little worriedly at them, probably unaccustomed to their guardian sounding so harsh. 

Their presence only angered Satoru more, and he turned back to Suguru with a warning glare, stepping a little to the side to block the man’s view of the two children, his stance screaming protectiveness. 

And Suguru… Suguru actually looked a little hurt at that, though he tried to hide it. 

Satoru didn’t know how to feel about that. 

He huffed, feeling his headache get even worse from the sheer stress that this situation was causing him. 

“Fine.” He grit out, rubbing tiredly at his temples before turning briefly back to the Fushiguro siblings. “You two stay here, I have to go and have a talk with my friend here. If the pizza arrives in the meantime you can start eating without me, though I’ll try to keep it brief.”

The two nodded, Megumi with a slight annoyed scowl on his face and Tsumiki with a nervous smile, trying hard to be supportive despite her clear worry.

Satoru couldn’t find it in him to smile back in an attempt of reassuring her, so he just turned back around to a patiently waiting Suguru and nodded at him to start walking while he quickly put on his shoes.

“Let’s go.”

The walk down the stairs and out of the building was quiet and tense.

As soon as they got far enough from the apartment complex, Satoru was quick to grab Suguru by the arm and drag him into an alley, roughly pushing him against the wall, eyes bright and fiery. 

“What the fuck, Suguru?!” He seethed, all of the anxious and jittery energy that he had been trying to keep down suddenly bursting out. “What the fuck do you want?! Why the fuck did you come to that apartment?!”

He was freaking out. 

Suguru had knocked right at the door of the kids’ apartment. Tsumiki had been the one to open the door. Tsumiki, a non-sorcerer eight year old girl, had been face to face with the same man who had spent the last year murdering non-sorcerers. What if Satoru hadn’t been there? Would Suguru have hurt her? Would he hurt her now that he knew where she and Megumi lived? 

“Satoru, you need to calm down.” Suguru gently urged, not looking intimidated in the slightest even as he was backed into a corner by the furious strongest sorcerer.

“You show up unexpected at my kids’ home and you expect me to stay fucking calm?!”

Satoru tried not to think about how in the spur of the moment he had called them ‘his’ kids, something that he had been careful not to do in the past months in which they had been under his care. That was something that he would mull over later, in the dead of night instead of sleeping, now there were more pressing matters to deal with. 

“Satoru, I-”

“How did you even find out where they live?” The white haired sorcerer interrupted, glaring daggers at the other man.

“I didn’t know that it was their home, I just assumed that you had your own apartment off campus. One of my accomplices saw you entering that apartment and so that’s where I went to speak to you. Lately you’ve been very busy with missions so there weren’t many other openings for me to approach you.” Suguru calmly explained, and Satoru slightly relaxed now that his perhaps irrational fear that the man was targeting the Fushiguro siblings had been placated.

He tried to brush over the unsettling admission that Suguru had accomplices set out to keep tabs on him. He had already suspected it, after all. Plus, it wasn’t like Satoru was new to being followed and kept under close eye. Aside from the numerous assassins that had targeted him since birth, the higher-ups already took care of that

“Well, now you know. And you also know that I don’t ever want to see you again anywhere near that apartment. Am I clear?”

Suguru remained quiet for a few seconds, violet eyes almost studying him, running over his tense and anxious expression, and that same hurt look that he had worn earlier when Satoru had stood protectively over Megumi and Tsumiki came back. 

“Do you really think that I would hurt them?” He asked softly, something akin to betrayal and disappointment in his voice.

Satoru couldn’t help but scoff. “Why shouldn’t I? After your recent killing spree it’s pretty fucking obvious that you have no qualms killing innocent people, even children.”

“Ah. So you’ve heard about that.” Suguru commented with a sigh, and the white haired sorcerer glared.

“Of course I did, you weren’t exactly too discrete about it.”

“Satoru, you have to know that that is different.” The curse user slowly raised a hand to cup Satoru’s cheek, pleased when his fingers passed right through the barrier of Infinity like always, palm pressing against soft, pale skin. “Those people that I killed, they were tied to that awful organization. I don’t kill without a reason, you know that. Also, I would never hurt someone you care about so deeply, Satoru. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Satoru wanted to slap the hand on his cheek away, wanted to flinch back from the touch, but couldn’t bring himself to do it. As always, he was weak under Suguru’s palm, unable to resist that deep magnetic pull that those violet eyes had on him. 

Still, he found enough defiance in himself to glare at him with a small disbelieving scoff. 

“I’m serious, Satoru.” The curse user insisted gently, thumb lightly sweeping under those powerful crystalline eyes. “Don’t you trust me?”

“Should I?” The sorcerer narrowed his eyes, not willing to give in so easily.

“Do you? ” Suguru was quick to reply, never one to back down from Satoru’s challenges.

The sorcerer hesitated, realizing that he didn’t have an answer to that.

Did he trust Suguru?

The instinctive and protective reaction that he had had upon seeing the man near the kids he was caring for suggested that he didn’t, rightfully so. This person wasn’t the same he had known like the back of his hand once upon a time. The man before him was a curse user, a murderer, a public enemy of the jujutsu world, a threat to society. He was definitely not someone who should be trusted.

But, at the same time, the way in which he had turned off Infinity for him without even realizing, something that he hadn’t done for anyone except for the Fushiguro siblings ever since Toji’s attack, the way that he was letting him get so close and touch him in an intimate way that no one else had ever done, not even his family, the way that he still let himself be vulnerable with him, it all suggested that he did actually still trust him. 

God, he hated how Suguru had always been able to tear down every single certainty that he had.

“Whatever, just- stay away from that apartment.” He sighed, clearly deflecting the question but not finding enough strength in him to find a better excuse.

Suguru seemed to sense that, his thumb still rubbing soothing circles into the sorcerer’s cheek as he nodded, easily giving in. “All right. So what should I do when I want to see you?”

Satoru gave him a disbelieving look, finally stepping back and letting the other’s hand fall off his face. He tried not to let it show how much he already missed the contact. “I’m sure you and your accomplice can figure it out, you damn stalker.”

The younger man looked a bit sheepish at that, a small teasing smile tugging at his lips. “You can’t blame me for wanting to keep tabs on the strongest sorcerer alive. After all, you’re the only one who could very easily ruin my plans.”

Satoru tried not to flinch at the reminder. It was true. He was the only one who could stop Suguru, who could put an end to his crimes. And yet here he was, chatting with the man as if he wasn’t under the strict orders to kill him on sight. 

For all that he tried to act morally righteous and judgmental of Suguru’s actions, he wasn’t innocent either. For every time that he let the other walk away unscathed from their interactions, the blood on Suguru’s hands stained Satoru’s too. 

The guilt churned deep in his stomach, but by now he had gotten good at ignoring it. 

“Oh, so that’s what this is about, huh? You’re just keeping your enemy close?” He raised an eyebrow, the familiar teasing tilt overtaking his voice in a well practiced manner. 

However, for once, Suguru didn’t rise to the bait. No, his tone was completely serious and genuine when he replied: “I could never see you as my enemy, Satoru. While it is true that your strength is worrying for my plans, I mostly keep tabs on you because I care about you. I still worry, you know?”

Satoru blinked, not having expected the genuine admission from the other. Still, something bothered him about it. 

“But we are enemies.” He stated as if obvious, which it really should have been. “We are on opposite sides of the jujutsu law. I have orders to kill you on sight. We are objectively enemies, you have to accept that.” He wasn’t sure if that last part was directed to Suguru or to himself.

“Do you see me as an enemy?” The curse user asked, no judgment or accusation in his tone, a genuine question. 

Satoru was quick to reply, expression hardening. “I hate what you’re doing. I hate how you think that you are in the right. I hate your whole plan and screwed up values. I hate that you left me just to become a curse user.”

“That’s not what I asked, though. Do you consider me your enemy, Satoru?”

The sorcerer hesitated. He considered lying, just to be petty. But at last he sighed, defeated, and muttered sincerely:

“I wish I did. But I can’t. I still see you as my best friend. My one and only.”

Suguru smiled softly, seemingly pleased with the answer. “The same goes for me, Satoru.”

The white haired man huffed out a forced laugh, trying to break the charged tension that had fallen over the two. “You’re a real pain in the ass, you know that?”

The other laughed, a soft, real laugh that made Satoru’s heart flutter in his chest. 

“So you have told me. Multiple times.”

Silence fell upon the two once again. Satoru let out a tired sigh, leaning back on the wall opposite of the other, head raised and eyes closed, breathing deeply the early spring evening air. He could feel Suguru’s eyes trained on him, making his skin prickle, but he tried to pay it no mind. 

“I don’t think we should see each other anymore.” He finally murmured after a few more moments of calm silence, not daring to open his eyes and look at the other’s expression.

Suguru seemed to hesitate, and thanks to his Six Eyes Satoru could see even from behind his closed eyelids the spark of worry and distress in his cursed energy. 

“You- you don’t want to?” His voice sounded hesitant despite how clearly stupid his question was. Satoru scoffed.

“Stop that. You know that I want to. But I don’t think that it’s the best thing for us, for either one of us. It’s just going to make this, whatever this is, all the more difficult and painful.”

Suguru’s energy quieted down at that, and he took a few seconds to mull it over, a soft thoughtful hum vibrating in his chest. 

“It definitely will.” He admitted, sincerely. “But when have things ever been easy between us?”

Satoru opened his eyes, finally glancing down at the other, who was looking at him with an amused but heart wrenchingly hopeful expression, and the sorcerer felt all of his resolve crumble before it.

He sighed deeply, letting his head thump back on the wall behind him, feeling a bone deep exhaustion that had little to do with the long day of missions that he had had. 

“I wish they were.” He found himself whispering in the empty alley, as if telling a shameful secret, voice laced with grief. Grief for the life that he wished the two of them could have had. Grief for the life that they could never have now. Grief for all the words that have been left unspoken between them, for all the actions left undone, for all the love left hanging in the stale air. 

“Yeah.” Suguru whispered back, his tone reflecting back that same grief. “Me too.”

And there was some comfort in that knowledge. In knowing that Satoru wasn’t alone in his pain, in his longing, that his doomed love wasn’t one sided. It didn’t make it better, it just made it less lonely. 

“So… where do we go from here?” He asked tiredly. 

“Satoru.” Suguru called seriously, stepping forward until he was standing right in front of the sorcerer.

Satoru listened. He always did. Upon opening his eyes he was met with the deeply serious and almost pleading expression that Suguru was wearing as he stared deep into his eyes as if they were something to be adored instead of feared.

“Satoru, you have to know that leaving you was one of the hardest things I ever had to do.” Suguru whispered, his tone close to begging. Begging the other to listen to him, to believe him. 

The white haired sorcerer couldn’t help but avert his eyes at the incredibly sensitive subject which was still a sore spot for him. But Suguru didn’t let him escape that easily, cupping his face and gently forcing their gazes to meet once again. 

“I had been wanting to leave the jujutsu world long before I actually did. The one thing that kept me there was you. You were the biggest obstacle to my plans because I just couldn’t phantom a life without you. I know that I hurt you with my actions, but you have to know that my decision to leave never had anything to do with you. You were the only good thing left at Jujutsu Tech for me.”

“But you still left.” Satoru whispered bitterly, and the other sighed. 

“I did.” There wasn’t much more to say to that. It was the truth. Suguru may have cared about Satoru, leaving might have been hard for him, but at the end of the day he still did it. At the end of the day, he chose his ideals over his friends, over his best friend.

“But that doesn’t mean that we have to lose one another. I don’t want to lose you.” Suguru added then, hopeful. “I would like to keep seeing you, Satoru. And if you don’t want that, if you really think that the best thing for us is to take separate paths and end it all here, I’ll respect your wish. I’ll leave you alone, I won’t show my face anywhere near you ever again. Just tell me what you want, and I’ll listen.”

Satoru leaned into the hand still cupping his cheek, eyes fluttering close as he let himself be fully vulnerable for a moment and whisper the one wish that still kept him up at night. 

“I want you to come back to me.”

Suguru sighed, thumb gently stroking along the sorcerer’s cheekbone, gentle even in his rejection. 

“You know I can’t do that.”

“I know.” Satoru whispered back, gaze defeated and voice laced with self-deprecation for ever hoping for a different answer.

“I guess this is it, then, huh?” Suguru asked after a few moments of silence with a slightly wet chuckle, his hand hesitantly falling down from Satoru’s jaw, leaving a cold and aching imprint in its absence. 

And that already was terrifying to Satoru.

The coldness, the emptiness that Suguru had already left on his skin, in his heart, in his soul, by leaving the first time was terrifying. 

Satoru had spent most of his life alone, but it was only after meeting and subsequently losing Suguru that he had truly felt lonely.

Before Suguru, he had never known any love in his life. He had been revered, admired, worshiped, but never loved. And now that he knew what it was like to be loved, he didn’t think he could go back to how he had been living before it.

His love for the other was a heavy burden to carry, but the lack was somehow heavier. The absence, that emptiness that Suguru had already left in his wake once before was crushing, and Satoru was terrified that he wouldn’t be able to handle it one more time. That he would break beneath the weight of that hollow loneliness.

Suguru had changed him deeply in ways that he couldn’t even begin to explain. Every act of affection, every fleeting touch, every caring word, every knowing look had rearranged his insides beyond recognition. He was like a string instrument whose every chord had been tuned to the key of Geto Suguru, and he had no idea of how to rearrange himself to another pitch. 

Gojo Satoru might have been untouchable, but he too, like any great warrior, had an Achilles’ heel.

He was desperate for Geto Suguru.

And so he grabbed back that familiar warm and calloused hand before it could slip from his reach once again and held on tight, chaining himself to his one eternal weakness, his one fatal flaw. 

“I don’t want to lose you, either.” He whispered, holding reverently the hand in his and pleading the other with his eyes, pleading him to understand, pleading him to give in to weakness just like he had done. 

And Suguru heard him. He always did. 

Their fingers laced together as the curse user stepped back into his personal space, the hint of a smile on his lips.

“Okay.”

And in that moment Satoru decided that if love truly was his fatal flaw then he would gladly curse himself over and over again.

Despite their unspoken agreement on that fateful evening, things didn’t get any less complicated.

Almost a year passed before they met each other again. 

Surprisingly, life went on for Satoru. 

Though he never stopped thinking about his best friend and wondering when they would meet again, feeling a little pissed off at the fact that it was solely up to Suguru since he had no way of finding the hiding curse user, he fell into a comfortable rhythm.

The higher ups were still running him ragged with mission after mission as if he was their personal mule, but his power was only growing day by day, so he didn’t truly mind. It was during that year that he finally managed to perfectly master his Domain and learn teleportation, and his control of his cursed energy was becoming more and more precise.

Also, he found out that missions weren’t as dreadful when he had something to look forward to after them. The knowledge that instead of going back to his own empty and lonely apartment at the end of the day he had the alternative of a smaller but cozy and lively apartment filled with two brats that he had grown incredibly fond of in the past year made the boring missions much more bearable. 

He had also slowly rekindled his friendship with Shoko. After Suguru’s defection things had been difficult between them, the loss of their classmate leaving a gaping void in between them, and their different methods of coping with it created sparking tension and bitterness. But eventually they had managed to move past it, and though things never went back to how they were before everything went down, they were good enough. 

So Satoru’s life was peaceful. He was still lonely at times, when the nostalgia and longing hit him deep and dragged him into a pathetic pit of regret and wallowing, but these episodes never lasted longer than a few days and he now had people to help him out. 

And so the days slipped by smoothly, so smoothly that he had lost track of them until one day he found himself in the morgue with Shoko chatting about whatever as she gave him one of the yearly mandated medical check-ups that Yaga insisted they all get. 

“So, you doing anything special tomorrow?” The woman had asked while measuring his blood pressure, and he tilted his head in confusion.

“Uh, no? Why?”

Shoko raised an eyebrow, looking at him as if he was an idiot. He would be offended, but she looked like that at almost everyone, so he had gotten used to it. 

“Do you even know what day it is?”

“Tuesday?” He tried, and Shoko’s exasperation visibly grew.

“It’s Thursday, honey.” She shook her head, exasperated though slightly amused. “And that’s not what I meant. I was referring to the date, dumbass. Tomorrow’s your birthday.”

“Oh.” Satoru blinked. Now that they had graduated and he no longer had the routine of classes to help him keep track of the time but instead only randomly placed missions it was getting harder to keep track of dates and such. Plus, he didn’t really care that much about his birthday, not anymore. Once upon a time he might have made a big deal out of it, demanding gifts and celebration, but now it just seemed futile, irrelevant compared to everything else in his life. Also, the one person that he loved celebrating his birthday with wasn’t there with him.

“That’s it?” Shoko asked him incredulously, twirling a strand of hair around her index finger, a mindless habit that she had picked up on recently. Her hair had gotten longer, starting to reach past her shoulders. Judging from the split ends and flat appearance of it all, it was more out of a lack of care and time to maintain her past curated and lustrous bob than a stylistic choice. The heavy bags under her eyes were further proof of her deteriorating self care. 

Once upon a time Satoru might have teased her for it and then forced her to take some time off for herself, but now he knew that it would be futile. Just like he had a burden as The Strongest, Shoko had a burden as one of the very few sorcerers able to use Reverse Cursed Technique, so the time to rest and take care of herself was scarce. He understood that very well. Plus, it would be hypocritical of him to reprimand a fellow workaholic. 

“I mean, I guess I could pick up a few sweets at that bakery that I really like and bring them tomorrow to the Fushiguro siblings to celebrate. We could make it into a movie night, Tsumiki would be happy.” He shrugged, leaning back on the examination table and crossing a leg over the other. 

“You’re really getting old, huh? When did you get so boring?” Shoko teased as she organized a few medical charts.

“I thought I was annoying.”

“Two things can be true at once.” The woman was quick to answer back, pale lips graced with her usual sardonic smirk. “Come on, let’s do something fun. We can go out for drinks, we haven’t done that in ages.”

Satoru hummed in agreement, it had been a long time since they last hung out outside of work, mulling the idea over in his head. A pout then tugged at his lips. “You know I don’t like drinking, though.”

“Yeah, but I love it.” Shoko smirked, seemingly awfully proud of her addiction.

“I don’t know if I should enable your crippling alcoholism, my dear Shoko. That wouldn’t make me a very good friend.” Satoru teased with a shit eating grin, and the woman chuckled drily. 

“Who ever said that you were a good friend?” She then put down the charts she had been browsing through, dropping the humor. “It could be fun, though. We could invite Nanami and Utahime. We’ve both been working our asses off, we deserve a nice night out.”

Satoru hummed in agreement. It did sound nice to spend an evening with the closest things to friends that he still had. It wouldn’t be like the good old times, those were long gone and impossible to recreate, but it would be close enough. And if a night out with the promise of alcohol was what it took to drag Shoko out of the morgue then he couldn’t in good conscience refuse.

“Yeah, okay. Sounds fun.”

“Great. You’re paying.”

“Obviously.”

And so the next evening Satoru found himself sitting in a nice but crowded bar along with Shoko and Nanami. Utahime had politely declined the invite because she was too busy and couldn’t find the time to make the trip there, a common occurrence since she started working as a teacher at the Kyoto school. 

That afternoon Satoru had still picked up a few sweets at his favorite bakery to share with Tsumiki and Megumi, spending a few hours with the children, helping them with their homework and watching cartoons with them before going to his own apartment to get ready to go out.

As he had been fixing his azure button up in the mirror and carding his fingers through his hair to give them some resemblance of order he found himself thinking about how he couldn’t really remember the last time he went out for something other than work or Fushiguro-siblings related. Shoko might have been right in calling him boring. He was turning only twenty-one and yet at that moment he felt like a boring old man. 

That thought had later on urged him to actually order a cocktail along with his two companions instead of his usual mocktail, a choice which earned him a loud excited whoop from Shoko and a tired sigh from Nanami, who was very aware of how much of a lightweight he was. 

Thankfully, he wasn’t sixteen anymore so a single cocktail wasn’t enough to make him black out drunk, though it did make him pretty tipsy. Not enough to be sick or to render him unable to hold a normal conversation, but just enough for him to feel lighter and pleasantly buzzing. 

It was a simple but fun night. Him and Shoko bickered like siblings over every little thing as if they were still students, all the while Nanami acted as a very uninterested mediator. 

Nanami told them all about the company job he had just gotten. He didn’t seem too thrilled by the job itself or by his coworkers, but Nanami was rarely thrilled about anything, so it wasn’t too worrying. Still, he looked somewhat peaceful, tranquil in a way that he hadn’t been since before Haibara’s death. 

It was clear how much he needed a break from the jujutsu world.

Satoru was perhaps still a bit bitter about him actually leaving, but he couldn’t find it in himself to hold it against the man. Not when Nanami looked well rested and free of any injuries for the first time in who knows how long. 

Ever since Nanami first announced that he was planning on leaving the jujutsu world, Satoru had made sure to be as supportive as possible. He believed that eventually Nanami would come back to the jujutsu world, and had a feeling about it, but he didn’t voice that out loud. At the moment it was clear that Nanami needed a break, and Satoru would have done anything in his power to make sure that he got it. 

Their profession was a rotten one, and to do it against one’s will would be psychological torture. Leaving was a hundred times better than falling into that unforgivable pit. 

They didn’t need another Suguru situation.

Satoru would be damned before he let anyone else end up like Suguru.

As soon as these depressing thoughts started taking up space in his mind he just took another sip of his fruity cocktail and teased Nanami about his new haircut, claiming that he missed his old emo hair, and the tired sigh that the man let out, a sound way too exasperated for a twenty year old, was enough to chase the bad thoughts away. 

They did another round of drinks, and Shoko initiated a toast in honor of Satoru, already drunk off her ass after having ordered shots for herself and talking way too loudly, earning herself looks from the other people in the bar. Satoru just cackled, incredibly tipsy, while Nanami hid his red face under his hand. 

Surprisingly, there were gifts. Both Shoko and Nanami had brought him different kinds of sweets and candy, the best they could do on such short notice, not that Satoru minded. If anything, they were perfect gifts.

After that, they spent a bit more time chatting and joking around, before they all decided that it was time to head home.

They all waited for Shoko’s cab to arrive, the two men waving the drunk woman off after Nanami took it upon himself to tell her address to the driver.

After that Nanami offered to drive Satoru home, since he had only drank one beer and was still sober, but the older had refused with a laugh.

“So nice of you to worry, Nanamin! But it’s fine, I live nearby and the walk will help me sober up.” 

The blond man asked him if he was sure, and at Satoru’s teasing reply about how he shouldn’t worry so much or he would get wrinkles before his thirties, he gave up with a sigh. Still, Nanami patted him on the back and wished him a happy birthday once again, telling him to get home safely before walking away to his car. 

That left Satoru standing alone in the crisp December night air right outside the bar. The loud music and chatter that had been headache inducing earlier was now muffled and simply a distant and almost relaxing buzz.

He dragged up his sunglasses so they rested on the top of his head, thankful for the darkness that the night offered, the only source of light being a distant street lamp casting a soft yellow glow, bearable for the Six Eyes. 

He breathed in deep, feeling more relaxed than he had in a long while as heat still pooled low in his stomach thanks to the alcohol and his chest trickled with warmth at the thought of having spent an evening with his friends.

Only one person could make his night even better.

Suddenly a shiver ran up his spine, and in his intoxicated state it took a moment or two for him to realize that it hadn’t been caused by the cold. 

“I can feel you watching me, creep.” He only slightly slurred, not even bothering to turn in the direction of the familiar gaze.

Soft footsteps echoed in the night, boots scrunching the thin layer of snow below them, and a warm presence settled beside Satoru.

“I should have known there’s no sneaking up on the Six Eyes.” Suguru commented, sounding amused.

“Yeah, you really should have. Did your numerous failed attempts at pranking me in high school teach you nothing?” Satoru teased, an easy mindless grin growing on his face as he leaned to the side to knock their shoulders together, and Suguru chuckled.

“Can’t blame a man for trying.”

Satoru hummed in agreement, eyes fluttering closed as a wisp of pungent winter breeze brushed his flushed cheeks, though he was too numb at the moment to feel any actual cold. 

“Happy birthday, Satoru.” Suguru whispered fondly after a few moments of comfortable silence, making the white haired sorcerer grin.

“You remembered?”

“Of course I did.”

“Forgive me for doubting, last year I didn’t get a birthday visit.” Satoru pouted petulantly, and the other chuckled fondly, gently pinching his flushed cheek. 

“You’re right, I’m sorry. Last year I was too busy.”

“You could still have sent me a text, or a card, or something.” He grumbled, pouting even harder, too tipsy to care about how needy he probably sounded at the moment.

Suguru didn’t seem to mind though, smiling softly as he turned to fully face the sorcerer. “You’re right. Let me make it up to you this year, then.”

And with that he held up a bag containing two wrapped up boxes. Satoru’s pout faded at the speed of light, replaced by a face-splitting grin as he snatched up his gifts with the same enthusiasm of a child on Christmas morning. 

With a little help from the other man, considering his current slightly uncoordinated state, Satoru quickly unwrapped the first gift, beaming at the sight of a box of his favourite flavor of mochi. In one single night he had completely refilled his stock of sweets.

The second gift left him a bit confused as he tore through the wrapping paper only to be met with a Pikachu plushie. 

Suguru smiled a bit sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his neck as he explained. “That one is for Megumi. A while ago you mentioned that he really likes Pokemon, so when I saw it I thought that he would enjoy it.”

Satoru stared up at the man in disbelief. 

“You bought a gift for Megumi?” He asked dumbly, feeling a weird jumble of emotions swirling in his stomach. 

“I- yeah. I’m sorry, did I overstep?” Suguru cringed, looking deeply apologetic.

Satoru couldn’t help the wide smile that spread over his face. Suguru had not only bought him a gift for his birthday, which was unexpected in itself, but he had also bought something for Megumi . He spent his time and money searching for something that would make Satoru’s kid happy. He remembered something that Satoru had mentioned almost two years before and used it to make one of the people dearest to Satoru happy. Because he knew how important Megumi was to him. Because he knew that making the people close to Satoru happy was the fastest way to make Satoru himself happy.

Just the thought made him giddy. As if he was once again a lovesick teenager pining after his best friend instead of an adult longing for the affection of a wanted murderer.

Suguru gasped when suddenly, the white haired sorcerer crashed into him, arms wound so tight around his neck that he feared he was going to suffocate, and a cold, pale face rubbing against his neck like a purring cat. 

“Thank you.” Satoru whispered into his skin, hugging him even tighter.

Despite the initial surprise, Suguru was quick to reciprocate, wrapping his own arms around the older and burying his nose in those messy white locks.

“Happy birthday, Satoru.” He whispered once more, almost reverently, as if he had poured everything that he didn’t know how to express into those simple words and hoped that they would be understood.

And Satoru understood. He always understood Suguru.

The hug probably lasted longer than what was socially acceptable for two adult men claiming to be just friends, but it wasn’t like either of them cared. 

Once Satoru finally found it in himself to pull away he stumbled a bit, thankful for the fact that Suguru’s arms were still wrapped around him, ready to hold him steady. 

“I see that Shoko managed to convince you to drink, huh?” The long haired man commented with an amused tilt of his eyebrows, and Satoru pouted with faux offense.

“She didn’t convince me to do anything. I’m a grown man and it’s my birthday, I can drink if I want to!” He huffed stubbornly, and the other chuckled fondly.

“Sure, whatever you say, you big lightweight. Now let me walk you home so that I can make sure that your drunk ass doesn’t fall and pass out in a random alley.”

“Meanie! I’m not drunk, I’m tipsy ! Plus, I can take care of myself! I’m the strongest, remember?” He protested, defiantly stepping away from the secure circle of the other’s arms to fold his own against his chest and glare half-heartedly.

Suguru rolled his eyes with fond annoyance. “Yeah, sure. Just humor me, would you? You know I worry.”

Satoru nodded with a teasing grin. “Yeah, Suguru’s such a mother hen.”

“So, can I walk you home?”

“I guess, if it helps you sleep better at night.” Satoru shrugged nonchalantly, though his cool demeanor was immediately disproved by how eagerly he latched onto the other’s arm as they started walking towards his apartment, Suguru carrying all of his gifts with his free hand. 

Satoru didn’t question how the other already knew the way to his own private apartment. 

Instead, as they walked the older man blabbered on and on about his night, filling in Suguru on whatever he, Shoko and Nanami had talked about, laughing loudly as he recalled every teasing comment he had made towards their junior and out of pocket thing that Shoko had said while drunk off her ass. Then he simply moved on to talk about whatever came to mind, whether it was the last show he had binged, a few interesting missions he had gone on, Megumi’s latest tantrum, etcetera. 

The walk and the cold air slowly helped him sober up, his steps becoming more stable and his words less slurred together, though the relaxed happy buzz under his skin didn’t stop. 

Suguru, as always, was happy to just listen to him rant, steering him in the right direction whenever he grew too distracted by his narrating, and adding his own quips every now and then.

The fog in his mind made it easy for Satoru to pretend that they were still seventeen and staggering back onto campus after sneaking out to the city alongside Shoko with their fake ID’s to feel like normal teenagers for one night. 

All too soon they were standing in front of Satoru’s apartment, the sorcerer opening the door with just a little struggle to fit the key into the lock.

“Make yourself at home.” Satoru announced as he strode into the big but empty apartment, kicking off his shoes and not wasting a second before collapsing face first on his couch. 

Suguru snickered at his behavior, closing the apartment door behind them before also taking off his shoes, more gracefully than the other, and walking into what he assumed was the kitchen to deposit the array of sweets that Satoru had received as gifts. The plushie, instead, was gently set down on the coffee table in front of the couch that the other was still sprawled out on. 

“Come on, let’s get you to bed, birthday boy.” Suguru gently prodded, helping the older sit up despite his groans and protests.

“Fine.” Satoru huffed, dragging his feet to his bedroom and picking out a pair of comfortable pajamas before locking himself in the bathroom to change. Suguru had offered him help in changing but he had simply flushed and stuttered out an indignant refusal, claiming that he wasn’t that gone, he could do it himself. He also took the time to wash his face and brush his teeth, ridding himself of the annoying stench of alcohol. 

Once he walked back into his bedroom he found Suguru standing near his bed, eyes fixed on the few framed pictures resting on his bedside table. 

One was a selfie that he took of him, Tsumiki and Megumi, the latter sitting in Satoru’s lap and looking at the camera with his usual frown while the little girl was plastered to the man’s side, little arms thrown around his neck and a bright beam on her face, Satoru sitting in the middle of it all with his sunglasses pushed up to his forehead, chin resting on the top of Megumi’s head, an arm thrown around Tsumiki, and a blinding grin that made his eyes crinkle at the corners.

The other was a picture of Satoru, Shoko and Suguru that the girl had taken in their second year. They all looked happy, smiling up at the camera with different types of grins ranging from lazy to polite to mischievous but clearly genuine nonetheless. They looked so young, still careless, still unburdened by the horrors and traumas that the future had in store for them. 

Satoru had printed out and framed that photo shortly after it had been taken. He should have thrown it away after Suguru’s defection. He wanted to throw it away, tried many times to, but at every attempt he found himself lacking the strength to go through with it. 

And so the picture remained with him, traveling from his dorm room at Jujutsu Tech to his own apartment and finding its resting place on his bedside, their long lost smiles and youth mocking him every night when he went to bed and every morning when he woke up. 

Satoru could no longer stand the sight of Suguru staring longingly at that picture, as if he had any right to look so nostalgic when it was his fault that the people in the picture no longer existed. 

But deep down, Satoru knew that it wasn’t the whole truth. He was aware that Suguru was a victim too. He knew that it was the Jujutsu society, the cruel world itself that had taken away their carefree smiles. Still, it was easier to get angry at one man rather than at the whole world.

He loudly cleared his throat, making Suguru snap out of his daze and turn towards him. 

“I’m all ready for bed, mom. Happy?” He announced dramatically while gesturing at himself, but the teasing lilt of his voice fell a little flat. 

Still, the other rolled his eyes playfully and teased right back. “How many times have I told you this, Satoru? If you don’t want to be treated like a child then you shouldn’t act like a child.”

The white haired sorcerer gasped dramatically, putting a hand on his chest and grasping at his soft oversized white hoodie. “When have I ever acted like a child? You’re such a meanie, Suguru!” He whined, making the other cock an eyebrow in amusement as he proved exactly his point. 

“Come on, you big baby. Time for bed.”

“You gonna tuck me in and read me a bedtime story?” Satoru asked cheekily, though he still did as the other asked, climbing into his king size bed that always felt too big just for him and sitting atop of the covers. 

“Only if you ask nicely.” Suguru quipped back, sitting at the edge of the bed beside him, and gazing at him with such fondness that Satoru had to use all of his restraint to not start squirming. 

“So,” The raven haired man started softly after a few moments, his teasing grin having mellowed down to a gentle smile “did you have fun today?”

“Yeah, I did.” Satoru answered sincerely, hugging his knees to his chest and leaning his chin on them. “I really did.”

“Good.”

“The best part was seeing you, though.” Satoru added, the lingering alcohol induced warmth pooling in his stomach making him a little braver. 

Suguru looked taken off guard at his admission, but he smiled.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Satoru.”

“I wish I could have spent the whole day with you, though.” Satoru pouted, ignoring how the other stiffened up slightly. “I wish you could have been there to wish me a happy birthday first thing in the morning as I woke up. I wish you could have been there with me and the kids as we ate the cake that I bought and watched cartoons. I wish you could have gone out with me, Shoko and Nanami and made fun of Nanami’s hair with me. I wish you weren’t about to leave again right now.”

Suguru remained silent for a while, taking the words in, gaze not daring to meet Satoru’s. 

But then he smiled tentatively and offered: “If you’d like I could stay here until you fall asleep. Would that make you feel better?”

Satoru wanted to scoff. He wanted to tell him that it wouldn’t make him feel better. That when he wakes up in the morning he will be alone nonetheless, Suguru will have left him once again, and that knowledge was enough to already make his heart clench.

However, he kept those thoughts to himself and simply nodded. 

Because long gone were the days where he could be arrogant and bratty, demanding all of Suguru’s time and attention, urged by the confidence that the other will give him whatever he wants.

Now the only thing he could do to keep Suguru in his life was stay quiet and accept what was given to him. Nothing more and nothing less. 

He could only greedily drink up whatever Suguru was ready to give and try to convince himself that it would be enough.

And so Satoru found himself lying down under his covers, eyes closed and humming contently as Suguru gently threaded his fingers through his white locks and massaged his scalp, relieving a light migraine that he hadn’t even acknowledged before. 

Though the gentle caresses were making him melt against his mattress, his heart was pounding in his chest, keeping him wide awake.

When was the last time that someone had cared for him like this? When was the last time that someone had coddled him and treated him with gentle care, as if he was something precious to be cherished instead of an indestructible weapon?

It had most likely been before Suguru’s defection.

After all, Suguru had always been the only one who only saw him as human.

Satoru hated being vulnerable, but with Suguru’s fingers gently running through his hair, it didn’t seem so bad anymore.

It hurt to admit, but a part of him had always longed for this. Longed to be touched, to be looked after, to be cared for, to simply be loved .

He shouldn’t rely on anyone else. He is the strongest, he has to be untouchable, unshakable, unreachable. Love has always been treated as a weakness in the Gojo clan, and Satoru couldn’t afford to be weak. 

And yet all of the power in the world couldn’t make him feel as pleased and accomplished as being loved like this by Suguru.

How cruel could fate be? Giving him something that he had longed for so deeply only to then take it away from him, over and over again. 

But at least he could still have these moments every now and then. 

It wasn’t enough, but it was better than losing this all together. Better than losing Suguru completely.

Satoru didn’t want to miss a single moment of this, of Suguru being there . Which meant he couldn’t fall asleep.

He just lied there, eyes blissfully closed, and tried to imprint in his brain the feeling of Suguru’s fingers in his hair, of his body heat mingling with his own, and of his breath gently caressing his face. 

But, like all things, it was bound to end eventually. 

Suguru must have thought that he had fallen asleep because the fingers in his hair stilled, and Satoru had to restrain himself from whining out loud at the loss. 

“Goodnight, Satoru.” Suguru whispered, and then a gentle hand moved to brush back the bangs from his forehead, leaving room for a pair of soft lips to press there in a tender kiss.

And Satoru didn’t want this moment to end. Didn’t want to lose the warmth of Suguru’s lips against his skin, of his body pressed close to his own. Panic overrode his rationality as he felt the other begin to pull away, begin to leave again .

He wanted to be selfish once again, To take what he wanted instead of obediently accepting whatever scraps were given to him. Satoru wanted all of Suguru, once again, even if just for a little while.

And so, made bolder by the alcohol lingering in his system, he did the unthinkable.

He grasped Suguru’s hand, stopping the other in his attempt to lean away from him, reached up and pressed his lips onto Suguguru’s own. 

It was a chaste kiss. Nothing more than closed lips pressed against one another. 

And yet there was something overwhelmingly desperate about it. There was desperation in the way that Satoru clutched the other close to him, not much differently to how a scared child would cling to a favorite toy, and in the way he forcefully pushed his lips harder into the other’s, almost as if trying to fuse them together, to meld them like metal. 

It wasn’t the first time that they had kissed. They had done it twice before. 

Once was towards the middle of their first year, on the first night that the two of them and Shoko had snuck out in the city to drink thanks to the fake ID’s that a senior had helped the girl fabricate. They had both been drunk and all over each other the whole night, and somehow they had ended up kissing. Neither of them remembered exactly how it happened or who started it, but it didn’t really matter because they decidedly never spoke of it again. 

The second time was in their second year after a particularly challenging mission. A single moment of distraction had caused Suguru to have a very close call against the Special Grade curse that they were fighting, but thankfully Satoru had been there to cover his back. As soon as the curse had been exorcized the white haired sorcerer had thrown himself at Suguru, a mess of tired lanky limbs, panicked anger and gnawing worry, and in the spur of the moment had pressed their lips together. It was a short, light peck that he had been quick to dismiss, focusing his attention instead on the wounds that Suguru sported and that would need immediate treatment. They never spoke of that again, either. 

Still, this time it was different. 

This time Satoru didn’t want to just brush it aside and ignore it, to blame intoxication or adrenaline. This time Satoru wanted it to matter.

He needed it to matter.

After a few seconds of shock,Suguru was the first to pull away, quickly sitting up and away from Satoru, freeing his hand from the other’s grasp. 

Satoru frowned, already missing the warmth. 

“Suguru-” He started, slowly sitting up himself, but the other interrupted him, making a point of not looking him in the eyes.

“You’re drunk, Satoru.” He stated firmly, almost a reminder. Though if it was to himself or to Gojo, it was unclear.

“I’m tipsy , Suguru.” The older was quick to bite back, and Suguru groaned.

“My point still stands. We shouldn’t do this.”

Satoru bristled, feeling bitter frustration rising in his throat. “No, don’t you try acting all righteous and shit! What, you have no qualms with killing yet you draw the line at kissing me while I’m slightly intoxicated? Make it make sense.” He huffed defiantly, not willing to give in. They were going to talk about whatever this thing between them was, he would make sure of it.

Suguru sighed, running a hand through his hair and looking as if he was trying very hard to keep himself strung together. 

“You should go to sleep-”

“No, fuck you!” Satoru burst out indignantly. “Don’t do that! Don’t act as if this is just me being drunk and not knowing what I’m doing! Not when you know very well that the alcohol doesn’t have anything to do with it! Not when you know, because you have to know, that I have been in love with you for fucking years ! You don’t get to belittle my feelings like that!”

Suguru froze.

Satoru’s heart threatened to beat out of his ribcage as he waited impatiently for the other to say something, anything .

He didn’t regret his words, they were words that he wanted to get out for years , words that had been gnawing at his insides since their second year of high school. But he also couldn’t deny the fear running through his veins now that they were finally out. Fear that he had finally ruined the precarious balance that their relationship had been standing on until that moment. Fear that this would be their breaking point. Fear that Suguru would leave him once and for all now that the truth was out. 

Tense silence filled the room, and Satoru wondered if the other could also hear his pounding heart. 

Suguru slowly raised his head from where it had been buried in his hands, turning towards the white haired sorcerer with wide shocked eyes. 

“You’re-” He gulped, voice uncharacteristically shaky, “you’re in love with me?” 

Satoru hid the fear and insecurity prodding under his skin with an annoyed scoff. “Did you really not know? Are you stupid or something? I wasn’t subtle about it at all , as Shoko enjoyed reminding me so very often.” 

Suguru shook his head, avoiding eye contact. “No, I- I knew back then. Back when we were still classmates. I just didn’t think that- that you still were. Not after, well, everything .”

Satoru chuckled, no humor in his tone. “Trust me, I wish I could have stopped. But I guess it doesn’t really work like that.”

Suguru finally met his gaze, eyes still wide and incredulous, but there was something else in them. Something that Satoru didn’t dare yet to call hope.

“So, even after all this time, after everything I’ve done, even though you don’t agree with my ideals… You still love me ?”

“I don’t think I could ever stop, to be honest.” Satoru whispered back, laying himself bare for the other, putting his quivering heart completely at Suguru’s mercy. He had gone so far, might as well throw caution to the wind and go all the way.

And then, before he could even begin to feel the shame and regret starting to rise in his chest, two hands were holding the sides of his face, tilting it up until lips were crashing onto his own. 

This wasn’t like the chaste kiss from earlier. This kiss was hungry, passionate, brutal in its intensity. But it was just as desperate as the one before. 

Suguru was kissing him like a drowning man trying to suck the oxygen out of his lungs, frantic and dizzying.

And once he got over his initial surprise, Satoru responded in kind, grasping onto the other and devouring him like a starving man. 

Suguru’s hands were everywhere, tugging at Satoru’s hair, grasping his waist, circling his throat, caressing his back, rubbing his thighs, exploring every inch of him as if it was their life’s purpose, and Satoru felt so beautifully overwhelmed that he could do nothing else but grip onto Suguru’s long hair and loose shirt and pull him impossibly closer, almost as if trying to crawl under his skin.

It was wild and messy and uncoordinated, yet Satoru never wanted it to end. 

Eventually, however, he had to pull back for air, a big gasp rattling his chest as soon as he found the strength to detach himself from that ravenous mouth, feeling as if he had just broken out of the water after being kept down to the point of suffocation, light headed and heaving. 

Suguru chased his lips for a moment, before also coming back to his senses and taking in the much needed air. He pressed his forehead against Satoru’s own, and for a while they just stayed like that, breathing each other’s air, their respective sighs mixing up in their constricting lungs, gently consuming one another in the hopes of becoming one. 

“I love you too, Satoru.” The long haired man whispered against the other’s lips, breathless and reverent in his confession. 

Satoru laughed breathlessly. “Yeah, I got that.”

Suguru smiled back, and then he was capturing the sorcerer’s lips in another kiss. This one slower, calmer, tongue gently sweeping at swollen lips to ask for entrance which Satoru easily granted as they interlocked once again in that familiar dance. 

Time flowed by easily like this, with their mouths sliding one against the other, bodies pressed together on the mattress, hands slotted together and legs tangled up messily, the big room filled with the sounds of their lips smacking, the rustle of the sheets and their soft sighs and moans. 

“Stay here the night.” Satoru murmured at one point in between one kiss and another, head naturally tilting back as the other nipped and kissed at his jaw. 

Suguru’s movements slowed down and he hesitated. “I can’t.”

“What?” Satoru complained, leaning back before the other could kiss him again and distract him.

Suguru buried his face in the older’s neck and sighed deeply, his whole body deflating. “I should go. I have business to attend to in the early morning.”

“What kind of business?” Satoru asked with a frown, dread pitting in his stomach.

“It’s better if you don’t know.” Suguru simply stated, and understanding dawned on the sorcerer.

“Oh.”

“I really should go.” Suguru sighed again, rising up to his elbows from where he was laying down on top of the other and planting one last chaste kiss on his lips before completely getting up and off the bed. 

Satoru also sat up, trying to fight down the bitterness in the back of his throat that made his mouth suddenly taste foul. 

“When will we see each other again?”

Suguru hesitated in the process of fixing his rumpled clothes, not turning around to glance at the other. “I don’t know.”

“Will it be soon?”

“I don’t know.”

Satoru scowled, feeling the last drops of giddy happiness and comfort that their kisses had infused in him evaporating under the heat of his frustration. “So what, I’m just supposed to wait here patiently for another year until you decide to show your face again?!”

“These are the terms that we agreed upon last time. We have to keep minimal contact to not be discovered, this is already dangerous enough. The higher ups have eyes and ears anywhere, and you know it better than anyone else. You were the one to insist on complete secrecy, Satoru.” The curse user bit back sharply, eyebrows ticking in annoyance in that same familiar way that indicated he was fighting to keep his composed attitude and not snap. 

And Satoru had no rebuttal to that. 

Suguru was right. When they agreed to keep meeting one another Satoru had been very clear in their need to keep it a secret. 

“If we want to do this we have to be very careful. If anyone in the Jujutsu society finds out that I still keep in contact with you, the higher ups won’t hesitate to exile me and sentence me to death, too. They can’t kill me, but I won’t lose my place in society for you. I won’t become a curse user. So no more careless visits in the middle of the street or knocking on the kids’ door. Am I clear?”

Suguru had been quick to agree, and that had been the end of it. 

Satoru still stood by those words. Rationally he knew that if he got banned from jujutsu society just because of his foolish heart and carelessness he would never forgive himself. The Jujutsu world might not be perfect, might not be even good , but it was all he knew, all he had ever known. There were still people in that world that he cared about, and there were still things that he wanted to do and to achieve. He would never become a curse user, not even for love. He wasn’t that foolish.

And yet, as he sat there with the lingering feeling of Suguru’s tongue swiping against his and of his hands on his body, staring at the man’s back while he got ready to leave for who knows how long, Jujutsu society and the higher ups were far from his greatest concern. 

For a second he considered damning it all and pulling Suguru back to him. It wasn’t like anyone could stop him, stop them .

But then the second passed and he realized how idiotic that thought was.

And so he remained silent, simply lowering his head, staring at his own hands resting in his lap to avoid having to see Suguru leaving. 

However, the retreating footsteps that he expected didn’t come right away. 

Instead a gentle hand rested in his hair and warm swollen lips grazed his forehead. 

“Goodnight, Satoru.” Suguru whispered for the second time that night.. 

Satoru couldn’t find the strength to look up at him or to reply, so he simply hummed in response.

The hand in his hair lingered for a few seconds more, and then it was gone. 

And Satoru was left alone in his big, expensive, lifeless apartment.

From there on their secret meetings started following a certain pattern. 

On some days, once every couple months or so, Satoru would go through his day normally and feel as if he was being watched, his Six Eyes alerting him of a familiar gaze following as he got through his usual missions. 

That was his cue to go to his own apartment that night as soon as he got done with his work for the day. 

And every time he would find Suguru already waiting in his living room, comfortable and content, smiling up at Satoru as soon as he entered the apartment. 

He never asked how the other got into the apartment, as long as he left no traces behind Satoru didn’t need to know. 

They would talk for a bit, perhaps have dinner together on good nights, dancing around any and every deeper or unpleasant subject with practiced steps. 

Suguru would ask him about his day. Satoru didn’t ask him about his day back, he knew better than that. Satoru often told stories about Megumi. He had learned to keep Tsumiki out of his tales after noticing the displeased wrinkles that formed on Suguru’s forehead whenever he mentioned her. On days where Suguru looked in a particularly good mood he mentioned Shoko, Nanami and Yaga, keeping the other caught up with how they were doing but never going into too much detail. The boring meetings with the higher-ups that he was forced to attend had become a banned topic of conversation after the umpteenth time that Suguru had suggested killing them. 

Talking with Suguru was like skating on a frozen lake, smooth and exhilarating as long as Satoru made sure to avoid all the places where the ice thinned out, but the slightest misstep might send him plummeting into the freezing water. 

The more time passed, the more ruthlessness and bitterness planted their roots into Suguru’s heart, the more the ice thinned out. 

But it was fine. Satoru was used to walking on eggshells. He had done so for most of his life: as a child in his clan, with every pair of eyes pointed at him and demanding greatness, perfection, demanding a god instead of a child, he had learned how to make his steps careful and weightless, how to avoid every crack, every imperfection, every sore spot without slipping up even once.

It was fine, he told himself, even as every visit from his former best friend started feeling less like a relief and more like an added weight on his staggering soul, another mask to put on added to his vast collection. 

It was fine, because the time that they spent actually talking during their meetings became more and more scarce. 

Because once they both ran out of hollow words, they moved on to actions. And those were all but hollow. They were always full , filled by whatever they had to give on that day, whatever weighed down their hearts in that moment. Whether it was love, bitterness, passion, coldness, reverence, envy, affection or anger. It didn’t matter, not to Satoru. He just took whatever he received and gave back everything that he could. He let himself be emptied, guzzled hungrily down to his very last drop. 

And then once that was done Suguru bid him goodbye with a kiss on the forehead and disappeared until their next meeting. 

On some rare occasions, though, he agreed to spend the night over. Satoru loved falling asleep in Suguru’s arms, but he hated waking up in the first morning to an empty bed and nothing but a lingering warm spot on the sheets beside him and a familiar scent as proof that someone had been there with him. 

At the beginning this, all of this, had been easy, pleasurable, something that Satoru looked forward to. But then, as most things in his life, even this started withering and rotting away.

On the third of these kinds of meetings Satoru first told Suguru about his decision to start teaching. 

Suguru had been in a good mood that day, though Satoru didn’t ask why. He was sure that he wouldn’t like the reason. 

When coming back home from his last mission, knowing by now that he would have a guest, Satoru had stopped to pick up take out on the way home from Suguru’s favorite restaurant. And so they were sitting on the floor of the living room, takeout boxes scattered all over the coffee table, chatting amicably. 

Satoru had been thinking about telling Suguru ever since he first thought about becoming a teacher. He knew that the other would most likely eventually find out either way, even if Satoru didn’t tell him, but it felt like something important, something that he had to reveal himself. It was a big step for Satoru, an unexpected decision, and he wanted to share it with his best friend. 

And so at the first useful opening in the conversation, he broke the news.

“I’m going to be a teacher at Jujutsu Tech.” He had never been one to beat around the bush, so he got straight to the point. 

Suguru didn’t look too shocked, used to his bluntness by now. Still, he stopped in his tracks and glanced up from his plate to meet Satoru’s serious eyes, blinking a few times as he processed the news.

“Oh.” 

“Yeah. I’m starting in the Spring.”

Suguru quickly got over his surprise, teasingly cocking an eyebrow. “Yaga got too tired of sitting on his ass all day and scolding students and thought it would be a good idea to ask you to be a teacher?”

Satoru snorted, but otherwise remained serious. “No, I was the one to ask him, actually. He was skeptical at first but eventually agreed. Took a bit more to convince the higher ups, but it’s not like they can stop me from doing something that I want to do.”

Suguru’s smirk died down as he also turned serious, eyeing the other with furrowed brows. 

“You never mentioned wanting to teach. To be honest, I wouldn’t have pegged you as the type.”

“I get that, honestly I was surprised too.” Satoru chuckled, mindlessly picking at his food. “I’ve just been thinking about it a lot, recently. For the past few years, actually.”

He took a deep breath, not looking up to meet Suguru’s attentive gaze. “I just- after all that we’ve been through during our school years and after taking in Megumi and training him and witnessing his potential grow, I started thinking about how this could be my way of changing Jujutsu society. Focusing on the future instead of the past. To look after young sorcerers, guide them and help them become strong, strong enough that they won’t have to suffer like- like so many of us did. I could teach them to look out for one another, to care for each other. I could protect them like no one protected us when we were young. There’s nothing I can do about the past, but I can help make things better for the next generation.”

When Satoru found the courage to look up, Suguru was staring at him with a soft smile and a familiar glint in his eyes. It was a look that Satoru had seen many times back in their teenage years, but it had become rare since his defection. It was fond and warm and incredibly soft. It was kind, kind in a simple way that Suguru had once been, in a way that he hasn’t been for a long time. It was also filled with pride and admiration, different from the reverence with which most people looked at Satoru, and different from the undertones of envy and resentment that had been hiding in Suguru’s glances in those last months before his defection. 

Oh how Satoru had missed that glint. 

“That’s really honorable of you, Satoru.” Suguru spoke sincerely, and the sorcerer fought to keep down the fluttering of his heart. 

“Why do you sound so surprised?” He teased instead with a faux glare, and the other smiled with an amused shake of his head.

“Sorry, it’s just… You’ve matured a lot in these past few years, haven’t you?”

Satoru’s grin slowly faded away. He focused back on his food, shrugging half-heartedly. 

“I didn’t really have a choice.”

He would have been fine with staying the immature, careless jerk that he had been in his youth. He would have been fine with staying in his little bubble in which everything was fine because he was The Strongest and that was all that mattered at the time, all that he wanted. 

But then life happened. He found out what friendship was, fell in love, died, came back to life, discovered what failure felt like, lost sight of himself, watched the love of his life leave him to become a murderer, adopted two kids, got back the love of his life but never really fully and then had to deal with the fact that the only person he ever loved cared more about  his twisted ideals than him. Some kind of personal change and growth was kind of inevitable after all of that, though he never asked for it. 

“Well, I think you’ll be a great teacher.” Suguru stated reassuringly, breaking the previous tension. 

Satoru smiled. It wasn’t as bright as it used to be. 

“Thanks.”

Once they both finished eating, Suguru placed a hand on his thigh, and Satoru knew that they were done talking about it. 

Sometimes they would just lay in bed next to one another and talk until the first lights of dawn. 

Satoru loved those nights, those nights in which whatever was between them felt simple, uncomplicated, stable. On those nights it was so easy to just close his eyes and pretend that they were sixteen, lying in Suguru’s dorm, after an intense evening of playing video games and eating junk food, giggling and whispering under their breath as to not disturb Shoko in the next room, uncaring of the fact that they would both be dead on their feet in class the next morning as they talked in that intimate, raw, unrestrained way that is only achievable in the heart of the night.

It was a nice break in their routine, a wave of fresh air purifying him from the toxicity that nowadays so often marred his lungs. 

Though this one night in particular Satoru couldn’t bring himself to relax and enjoy it. Not with the question that had been bugging him for years, from before their whole arrangement even started, swirling around in his skull and demanding his attention. 

“What’s going on in here?” Suguru broke him out of his mulling at one point in the night, gently tapping Satoru’s temple from where the sorcerer’s head was resting on his shoulder. 

“Don’t worry about it.” He easily dismissed, snuggling closer to the other man in an attempt to distract him, but Suguru has always been just as stubborn as him.

“Hey, come on. You’ve been aloof all night, you can’t expect me not to worry.” He carefully pushed Satoru back by the shoulders, making it so that they were both lying on their side and looking at each other. “Talk to me.”

Satoru huffed, realizing that there was no getting out of it.

And so he went straight to the point. 

“When you left, why didn’t you ask me to come with you?”

Suguru looked taken off guard by the unexpected question, but was quick to recover, eyeing Satoru with an unreadable expression.

“Would you have? If I had asked you?”

Satoru was quick to scoff. “No.”

Suguru didn’t look bothered by the harsh rejection, instead nodding with a knowing expression. 

“Then there’s your answer.” 

Satoru frowned. Now that the subject had been brought up, he wasn’t ready to let it go so easily, not until he got a satisfying answer. 

“But you couldn’t have known that for sure back then.”

Suguru arched an eyebrow teasingly. “Are you insinuating that I don’t know you, Satoru?”

“No, but you could have at least tried offering. You could have at least given me the option, y’know?” The sorcerer complained, and Suguru took a few beats before responding, eyeing him with newfound confusion and curiosity

“Do you want to come with me?” He asked, genuinely, and Satoru was quick to shut that idea down with a scowl.

“I don't’.”

“Then what’s this about?”

The sorcerer groaned in frustration, pushing himself up to sit on the bed, a hand reaching up to ruffle nervously at his own hair. He couldn’t understand what Suguru wasn’t getting.

“I just- you claim that you love me. That you’re in love with me. That you were back then, too. And yet you didn’t do anything to try and keep me in your life.” He tried to put it into words as best as he could, but it still wasn’t enough. Suguru simply hoisted himself up on his elbows, looking as clueless as earlier.

“That’s not true. What do you think this is if not me wanting to keep you in my life?”

“Yeah, but this all happened later. In that moment, on that day, when you left, you never even tried to convince me to go with you! You didn’t just leave jujutsu society, you left me. And you seemed just fine with that choice. While I never could have made that choice. I never could have left you. And if you’re in love with me just like I am with you, I just can’t understand why you could do that!” 

“Our situations are different.” Suguru softly tried to explain. “You could never leave jujutsu society. You’re in too deep. I could. So I did.”

“It’s not about that!” Satoru exclaimed, frustrated at still not being understood. “It’s about the fact that I’m in love with you and I can’t ever imagine myself willingly abandoning you! But you did, so maybe- maybe… ” Satoru couldn’t even bring himself to finish the thought, deciding instead to take a deep stuttering breath to try and get a hold of his emotions.

Realization finally seemed to dawn on Suguru as his mouth fell open in a silent ‘oh’ and something deeply sad took over his expression.

Silence stretched over for what seemed like an eternity to Satoru, though it was actually probably only for a few moments, before Suguru found his words once again.

“But you did. Leave me, I mean.” He started out tentatively, laying a calming hand on Satoru’s shoulder when the sorcerer turned to him with a defiant glare, urging him to be quiet and listen. 

“I mean, why did I have to be the one to ask you to come with me? I could argue that if you really loved me then you would have offered to follow me.”

Satoru fixed him with an affronted and incredulous expression. “Are you really questioning my feelings after everything?”

Suguru simply shrugged. “You started it.”

“That’s- that’s different.” Satoru weakly argued, and Suguru’s expression softened. The curse user shuffled closer to him, tenderly interlacing their fingers together as he nodded.

“I know.” He admitted, raising the sorcerer’s hand to his mouth and leaving a butterfly kiss on the back of it before continuing.

“Listen, Satoru. I really would have wanted you to come with me. I desperately wanted to offer you my hand and keep you close to me. But I couldn’t. And it doesn’t have anything to do with me not loving you enough or whatever else you convinced yourself of. It actually was because of how much I do love you.”

Satoru gave him a skeptical look, but otherwise remained silent, the soft touches and caresses that the other was still gracing him with, making him more compliant than usual.

“I know you, Satoru. And you would never be truly happy with the life that I’m living, the life I could offer you. Your place is at Jujutsu Tech, it always has been. I see how much you love teaching, helping young sorcerers. And I know how, no matter how dehumanizing and hard to carry that title is, you do actually like being The Strongest. You love sorcery, both using it and teaching it. You couldn’t have had any of that if you had come along with me.”

Satoru wanted to argue, perhaps just to spite the other, but found himself unable to. Suguru had always known him too well for his own good.

“I never asked you to come with me not because I knew that you would say no, but because I feared that you would say yes. I love you, and I want you to live the best life you can, I want you to be happy. You would have just gotten bored with me and ended up hating that life and yourself, you know that. So to keep that from happening I had to let you go. Do you understand now?” Suguru urged, using his free hand to cup Satoru’s cheek. 

“I didn’t leave you because I didn’t love you. I let you go because I do love you.”

Satoru looked down at their joined hands, thumb mindlessly rubbing circles into Suguru’s warm skin as he stalled for time to take it all in. 

He didn’t know how to answer to all that Suguru had said. A small, ugly part of him was whispering in his ear that it was all a lie, a made up story to please Satoru and make a fool out of him, but he knew better than to trust it. He knew Suguru better than that. He was telling the truth, Satoru could tell. 

Still, for someone as cocky and confident as him it was ironic how hard he found it to believe that someone else really does love him as more than a weapon.

Instead of unpacking all of that, he subtly changed the focus of the conversation.

“But you didn’t let me go. Not fully, at least. Not since you’re here.” He tried to come off as teasing, but his voice ended up sounding more sincere than he would have liked.

Suguru smiled back, a little fond and a little bitter.

“Yeah, I know.” He admitted, almost self-deprecating. “I try to be good and noble, but at the end of the day I think that I am just as selfish as everyone else. I don’t think I’d ever be able to completely let you go. I’m sorry.”

Satoru shook his head, leaning forward to capture his lips in a tender kiss, tugging him closer by their joined hands. 

“It’s okay.” The sorcerer whispered against the other’s lips. “That makes two of us.”

The worst meetings are usually the ones that happen after a debriefing with the higher-ups regarding Geto Suguru. 

They don’t happen often, thankfully, since the curse user is very good at hiding his traces, but they still happen every now and then and they never fail to sour Satoru’s mood for weeks . 

Those meetings make it impossible for Satoru to keep ignoring the reality of their situation, to keep pretending that everything is fine. During those meetings he is harshly reminded of how completely doomed they are, of how foolish he is being. 

Because, no matter how much Satoru loves him, no matter how gentle and caring Suguru is with him when they’re together, the truth is another. Suguru is a wanted murderer and Satoru is the one tasked with carrying out his death sentence.  

Such a truth is suffocating, overwhelming. Each time he has to stand there in that hated dusty old room, listening to someone present some new irrelevant evidence or trace of Suguru’s activities, nodding numbly along to the higher-ups as they remind him of his task, he feels like he’s drowning, and not even his Reverse Cursed Technique is enough to pump out the slimy dread filling up his lungs.

One particular night, right after he had to attend such a meeting, he came home just to find Suguru waiting for him in his kitchen. It felt like a sick joke. 

“Welcome home.” Suguru greeted warmly from where he was standing next to the stove, like a spouse waiting for their partner to return from work. As if he had always been there. As if he belonged in Satoru’s apartment, lovingly preparing dinner and waiting for him with open arms. As if Satoru hadn’t just spent his evening reading through a file of every time Suguru had been spotted in the last few years filled with pictures of every dead body that had been traced back to his cursed technique. As if he hadn’t just assured a room full of sorcerers that he would finally kill Geto Suguru the next time he got spotted. 

It was all a sick joke. 

Satoru didn’t feel like laughing.

“I made dinner. You should eat a homemade meal every now and then, it can’t be healthy to survive solely on take out.” Suguru smiled caringly, gesturing to a fuming pot filled with whatever he had decided to make. Curry, judging by the smell.

Satoru felt like he was going crazy.

“You need to be more careful.” He said bluntly, voice slightly shaking, standing stock still at the entrance of the kitchen.

Suguru tilted his head, clearly confused, and took a few slow steps towards him. “What do you mean?”

“They spotted you today, the higher-ups. You were seen near an elementary school. You have to be careful.”

Realization dawned on Suguru’s face, but his stance remained relaxed. “Oh yeah, I did sense someone nearby. Their cursed energy was pretty weak so I didn’t really worry too much about it, I just got out of there as quickly as I could.”

“You should have been more careful.” Satoru accused, shoving past the other to start pacing in the kitchen, a mess of frantic and nervous energy. “What were you even doing there? Was it part of one of your schemes? Just walking around in broad daylight like that, it’s like you want to be found-”

“Satoru.” A firm hand grabbed his arm, putting a stop to both his pacing and his ranting. Suguru gave him a stern look, a mix in between worry and annoyance that made Satoru want to shrink and hide away. “What’s gotten into you?”

“I’m just worried.” Satoru sighed, feeling some of the tension from earlier ebb away under Suguru’s grounding touch.

“Why?”

The white haired sorcerer glanced incredulously at the other, who looked genuinely puzzled. 

“Are you kidding me?”

“Satoru, you have no reason to be worried. I’m a Special Grade, the higher-ups can’t do anything to me.”

“Yeah, that’s why they gave me the role of executioner!” Satoru snapped, yanking his arm out of the other’s grip and leveling him with a sharp glare. “If they find out where you’re hiding or manage to keep you in one place long enough, I’m the one they’re gonna send to finish the job! They’re already constantly pressuring me to do it, I don’t need you to make it worse!”

Suguru seemed taken aback at his outburst. Which was stupid, because he should have known, should have guessed that this would inevitably happen after his defection. Who else could the higher-ups have sent after him if not Satoru? It wasn’t like they cared about their past, their shared history as classmates and close friends. The higher-ups had never held any regard for the feelings of any other sorcerer, least of all Satoru, so it really shouldn’t have been surprising that they had chosen him as Suguru’s executioner. No one else could have done it.

After a few long moments of tense silence, Suguru tentatively extended out his hand once again, this time taking Satoru’s own and squeezing it gently, reassuringly.

“You’re right.” He hummed, looking down at their intertwined hands as his thumb lightly stroked the back of Satoru’s hand. “I’ll be more careful.”

Satoru felt all the tension slowly leave his body, immediately soothed by Suguru’s touch and reassuring words in a way that might have been embarrassing had he had the strength to care about any of that. 

He sighed and slumped forward, gently knocking their foreheads together and breathing in deeply. 

“Thank you.”

The hand that wasn’t holding his came up to the sorcerer’s jaw, tilting it up as a pair of soft lips pressed against his own.

Satoru leaned into the kiss as if it was muscle memory, his own free hand tangling up in Suguru’s hair and pulling him closer as he deepened the kiss.

The homemade dinner ended up forgotten as they desperately clung to one another, searching for a comfort that words couldn’t offer, stumbling blindly to the bedroom as they had done many other times before, locking the rest of the world out. And so for a while they could just be , together, protected from the harsh truths of their reality. For a while Satoru could finally keep his head above water and take in the clean air, free of his shackles and responsibilities pulling him down. 

But then, as always, it ended all too soon. He felt himself yanked back into the water.

As they laid bare on the messy bed, tired limbs tangled up and breaths mingling with one another, Satoru started feeling that familiar lack of oxygen. He clung tighter to Suguru, fighting to keep afloat.

He wondered if Suguru was also drowning in his own way. He wondered if it would have made him feel better or worse if he was. He wondered if they could at least drown together or if they were fated to do even that while torn apart, an ocean away from one another.

“I think that one day I really will end up killing you.” 

The revelation was soft spoken, small and defeated, and yet it reverberated through the room with the echoing sharpness of a gunshot, breaking the illusionary peace like a pebble thrown in a lake. 

Suguru tensed up beside him, but his voice was unnervingly level-headed as he hummed in response. “You do?”

“Well, it just seems kind of inevitable. We’re on opposite sides of a battle and we’re both standing right at the frontlines. I don’t think you’ll ever take a step back and give up your ideals, and I know that I won’t. One way or another this has to end.”

Suguru didn’t seem offended by the admission in the slightest, simply taking it in with a thoughtful nod, as if they were discussing the weather instead of his possible future death. 

“Do you really think you could kill me?” It was a genuine question, and Satoru blinked once in surprise before scoffing playfully.

“I’m Gojo Satoru, of course I can.”

Suguru glanced at him with an indulging smile. “Don’t deflect. You know that’s not what I meant.”

Satoru hesitated. He rolled away from the other’s chest to lie on his back, staring hopelessly at the ceiling as he tried to untangle the mess of emotions rattling around in his chest.

“I don’t know.” He finally admitted with a soft sigh. “I used to be sure that I would never, ever , hurt you. Now I’m not so sure anymore. I mean, I probably should have already killed you years ago, but I couldn’t. I still can’t. So I guess that counts for something. But one day, maybe, I might feel differently. Who knows.”

Suguru hummed in understanding, seemingly pleased with his answer. 

For a moment, Satoru thought that would be the end of it, that they would brush this conversation aside and move on, adding it to the ever growing pile of ugly stuff that they had been ignoring for years like dust swept under a rug. But then Suguru spoke up again.

“I wouldn’t mind if it’s you.”

Satrou’s eyes widened. 

He was suddenly brought back to the day Suguru first left him. 

“If you want to kill me, kill me. There’s meaning in that too.”

Those had been the last words that Suguru had said to him before disappearing in the crowd.

Satoru had felt his blood boil at that moment. He had taken it as a taunt, as Suguru knowing that he wouldn’t be able to bring himself to actually kill him and mocking him for it, for his weakness.

Only now did he realize that those words had been truthful. 

“I wouldn’t mind if it’s you.”

Those words weighed more than any grand love declaration that Suguru might have spouted, more than any charged touch or kiss.

Because Suguru was willing to fight the whole of jujutsu society to go after his ideals. But not Satoru. 

He would let Satoru kill him, if he so decided. 

The weight of that realization was suffocating. 

“Don’t say that.” He finally managed to choke out, and Suguru simply shrugged, as if he hadn’t just placed his own life in Satoru’s hands without an ounce of regret or hesitation. 

“It’s the truth.”

Satoru simply sighed, wanting to change the subject as soon as possible. 

“Would you be able to kill me ?”

“Kinda hard to kill the untouchable.” Suguru replied easily, and Satoru gave him a half-hearted glare. 

“Now who’s deflecting? Plus, you know I’m not untouchable to you. I never have been.” 

“I know.” Suguru sighed. He hesitated for a moment, though it didn’t seem out of indecision, for his voice was sure and firm when he finally answered the question. 

“No, I don’t think I could. Not now, not ever.”

“Now you’re making me feel like an asshole.” Satoru huffed with a bitter chuckle. 

“You’re not.” Suguru was quick to reassure. “I just- I guess that I’ve always known that I would die before you, one way or another. Even if things were different, I always expected you to outlive me. I’ve accepted that, welcomed it, even.”

“Huh? Why ?” Satoru was genuinely baffled. He himself had never thought such a thing. Him and Suguru were always the strongest together . Before Suguru’s defection, he strongly believed that they would always fight side by side. He had never considered the possibility of Suguru dying before him. They would either die together or just not die at all. Wishful thinking, naive for him to believe, but as a cocky kid it had been easy to fall prey to such convictions.

“I mean, isn’t it obvious? I’m strong, but you’re a living prophecy , Satoru. We may both be Special Grades, but you’re on a whole other level. I’ve understood that since our first mission together. At first it pissed me off, but then I came to terms with it. I decided that being by your side, helping you, protecting you, was enough.” A nostalgic smile spread on his face. “I actually used to have this martyr fantasy of dying protecting you, back in high school. Seemed like an honorable way to go.”

Satoru didn’t need to know that. He had always known what his title, his power, would imply. The life of The Strongest was one of loneliness, a path to walk in solitude. 

But, once upon a time, he had truly believed that things could be different. That his title and his burden could be shared with someone. That he wouldn’t have to stand at the top by himself.

Apparently, he had been the only one foolish enough to believe that.

“Is that really why you won’t kill me? That’s stupid. If you really wanted to fulfill your mission or whatever you would have taken the opportunity and killed me just a few minutes ago, when I was at my most vulnerable.” He scoffed, bitter from his own realization.

“Yeah, that would have been the easier solution, wouldn’t it?” Suguru agreed with a tired sigh. “I guess I’m too weak, then. I just can’t imagine a world in which I am here and you are not. I’ll have to leave to you the task of putting an end to this, once you decide that you want to.”

Satoru chuckled, though there was no humor in it. “So you’re just unloading all the responsibility on me? I’m the one who’s gonna have to live with the consequences of your actions, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Suguru had at least the decency to sound apologetic about it.

Satoru sighed tiredly. He didn’t have the strength to even feel angry. He was just so exhausted . He had been for a long time.

“You’re a jerk.”

Suguru smiled, loving and melancholic. 

“Yeah. I know.”

After that meeting, Suguru took his advice and laid low for a while. 

A whole year passed before they saw each other again. 

Satoru no longer felt angry over Suguru’s long absence. He was just grateful that, in the end, he had come back.

Still, time had clearly been weighing on both of them. They could no longer pretend that they were carefree high schoolers, could no longer pretend that they weren’t slowly destroying each other whenever they re-entered into one another’s orbit, briefly passing each other like ships in the night, each time taking something of the other with them until they got stripped bare.

They rarely talked during their meetings, nowadays.

There was no longer a way for them to simply talk without twisting knives into old but still tender wounds. There was no more room in any of their closets to lock away any more skeletons, they just laid bare at their feet and they both did their best to avert their eyes. The ice had completely thinned out.

All of that could still be ignored while their bodies were slotted together like pieces of a puzzle, while their tongues danced in tandem, while their hands and mouths were full of one another and the sheer pleasure fogged up their minds. 

But as soon as that distraction was over, everything came crashing back onto Satoru, and the blow was becoming harder and harder to withstand. 

Slowly, the secrecy and sneaking around that they had gotten so used to stopped being thrilling and began to feel shameful.

Guilt grew in Satoru each time he met up with Suguru, each time he gave in to his weakness, each time he had to easily smile and pretend that he wasn’t slowly burning out from the inside, each time he had to lie to someone dear to him only to be with a man so full of crimes.

Shame burned on his skin with every touch that Suguru left. Shame for not being able to give this up despite how much it was killing him from the inside. He now understood why Shoko never quite managed to quit smoking. 

Satoru wanted to think of their meetings as mere hookups. He wanted to pretend that there was nothing but the physical pleasure behind them, convince himself that the weakness resided in his body and not his soul.

But it was impossible to think of it as just a hookup when Suguru would treat him so reverently, leaving careful butterfly kisses on every inch of pale skin as if afraid it could rip like paper under his teeth, fingers skimming over his stomach and hips and thighs like paintbrushes tracing delicate patterns on a white canvas, his movements deep and languid but still so incredibly gentle even in the heights of pleasure, his voice syrupy smooth as he whispered praises and sweet nothings into his ear, arms protective as they held him so close that their hearts seemed to beat in tandem, agonizingly tender as he brushed the hair away from his face and lapped up the sweat from his skin as reverently as if it was ambrosia.

That wasn’t a hookup. That was making love. 

Satoru hated it. He hated how he couldn’t seem to escape his love for the other man. He hated that knee-weakening intimacy that only two lovers could achieve.

Because they weren’t lovers, not in any way that mattered. They couldn’t be. They were destined to remain stuck in that unexplainable limbo in between lovers, enemies and strangers, with no way out. 

And yet Suguru touched him as if they could actually be just lovers. He gave him a taste of what could have been only to then leave him starving for it.

Satoru hated it. 

He wanted to pretend that whatever was between them was nothing but physical, wanted to trick his own body and heart into indifference. 

He begged and begged the other to be rougher, colder, distant in their chase for individual pleasure. Pleaded for him to break his heart once and for all instead of slowly chipping away at it, pleaded to be set free from this loving torture. 

But each time Suguru just kissed away his desperate tears and slowly slid his tongue against his, and Satoru felt himself just falling deeper and deeper.

This love was the gentlest curse he had ever encountered.

For years Satoru kept this heavy secret completely to himself.

It wasn’t difficult to keep secrets when one keeps most people at arm's length. Everyone in the jujutsu world might know of Gojo Satoru, but very few actually knew him .

And even with the people who were close enough to him to possibly suspect something, he never struggled with maintaining his not so little dirty secret. He was good at lying through his teeth and quick enough to come up with cover stories on the spot and then keep up with them. Honesty had never been a strong suit of his. Trickery was what he was truly made for. 

However, eventually, he cracked.

It happened with Shoko. Because of course it did. If anyone was ever to find out about him and Suguru, it was only natural for it to be her.

It started on a typical day.

Satoru had just finished with his classes and had bumped into Shoko on campus while the woman was leaning on a wall and smoking a cigarette.

They made some small talk, nothing out of the ordinary, a common occurrence. 

“I really want a drink. You feel like going out tonight?” The woman had asked him at one point, taking one last drag of her cigarette before dropping it to the ground and putting it out with the toe of her heeled shoes.

On another day Satoru might have easily agreed. They might have driven to their usual bar and spent the night chatting, Shoko sipping whatever hard liquor she felt in the mood for that night and Satoru a fruity mocktail, making fun and judging the other people in the bar like the couple of cocky assholes that they were.

But on that day he had to refuse, knowing that his night was already packed.

“Sorry, I’m gonna have to take a rain check on that. I’ve got a shit ton of mission reports piled up to write and papers to grade.” He smoothly lied, schooling his face into a bored and annoyed expression.

“Fun.” Shoko drawled sardonically. “I’ll leave you to that, then. Try not to die of boredom, I don’t know if my technique can bring you back from that.”

Satoru huffed in amusement. “No promises.”

Not even two hours later he was straddling Suguru on the couch, moaning into his open mouth and letting his hips follow along to the hands gripping his waist and pulling him down, down down , the mission reports that he did actually have to fill out sitting untouched on his desk.

Suguru stayed for longer than usual that night, seeming restless, in need of a reprieve that Satoru was glad to offer, too high on his own twisted pleasure to care about anything except for the hot skin under his fingertips and the hungry lips on his throat. They kept going until the point of collapse.

It had been so long since the last time they fell asleep together. Satoru relished in the warmth of a body to hold at night, something that he didn’t even know he had longed for so badly until he experienced it again.

The next morning Satoru woke up late, sore, sticky, and alone.

He bit down the surge of bitterness rising in his stomach at the sight of the empty spot next to him, hurrying instead to get ready. He took a quick shower, not even looking himself in the mirror as he burst out of the bathroom frantically drying himself and throwing on his uniform.

Though he wasn’t as constantly prone to tardiness as he had been as a teenager, it wasn’t unusual for him to be late to class, so none of the students batted an eye. His lecture was half-assed at best, but that wasn’t too out of the norm either, so no one questioned him.

His soreness remained as he walked to his office for the lunch break. He could theoretically heal it with Reverse Cursed Technique, but he chose not to. He couldn’t explain why, but for some twisted reason the faint lingering pain was somehow a comfort. Perhaps because it was proof, a reassurance that he wasn’t truly alone, that Suguru still loved him and sought him out, that it was real . Or perhaps it was punishment for his weakness, a way to stifle the shame at having fallen prey to his desires once again. Maybe a mix of both. 

His thoughts were interrupted by his office door being suddenly yanked open, chopsticks slipping from his grasp as he jumped in place like a startled cat. 

“There you are.” Shoko commented with an annoyed huff as she strode into the room as if it belonged to her.  

“There I am. You know, there is a little thing called knocking . Great invention, you should try it sometime.” Satoru recovered quickly from his surprise and quipped teasingly, making the woman scoff.

“That’s rich coming from you. As if you’ve ever knocked in your life.”

“What can I say, I like making a surprise entrance. You know I live for the dramatics. Now, to what do I owe this visit, oh dear friend of mine?” He asked with a lazy smirk, leaning his chin on his closed fist with over-exaggerated interest.

Shoko gave him an unimpressed look. “Did you forget?”

“Forget what?”

“Your check up. You were supposed to come to the infirmary like twenty minutes ago.”

Satoru blinked once. Twice.

Yes, he had completely forgotten.

Shoko understood what his silence meant and sighed with an exasperated shake of her head. “The strongest fucking sorcerer of our time and he can’t even keep his calendar straight, we’re all doomed. Come on, let’s do this quickly.”

And with that she was already walking out the door, completely expecting Satoru to follow. Which he did, a sheepish grin on his face as he stumbled out of his chair to trail after the woman.

Everyone at the school had to set up with Shoko at least one general medical check up a year, Yaga’s orders. It was both physical and mental, and Yaga had set the rule right after becoming principal, a few years or so after Suguru’s defection. 

It was clear that the man was attempting to make up for his own past mistakes. It wasn’t much, but it was something . 

After particularly taxing missions Satoru often encouraged his students to have a check up, even if they had already done their yearly one. He didn’t want any of them to slip through the cracks unnoticed, didn’t want them to carry too much weight by themselves, like Suguru had. 

It wasn’t enough to make up for the horror and stress that sorcerers went through daily, but it was something .

Satoru himself tried to get out of these check ups every single year.

He was fine, he didn’t need them. He was The Strongest, after all. 

Too bad that that argument never seemed to work with either Yaga or Shoko, so he had learned by now to suck it up and bear the boring and, in his opinion, unnecessary visit. 

And so, knowing the drill by now, he walked alongside Shoko to the infirmary and went straight to sit comfortably on the medical cot, leaning back on his palms and swinging his legs back and forward with a carefree attitude.

Shoko was rifling through her supplies, flipping through what he assumed was his medical file and starting with the usual questions, voice flat and bored. 

He moved swiftly through the initial questions, mostly lying. 

No, he hadn’t experienced any pain or sensation out of the ordinary. Yes, he was getting enough sleep. No, he hadn’t been feeling tired without reason. Yes, he was eating properly. No, his headaches hadn’t gotten worse, they were the same.

He wondered if Shoko knew that he rarely answered truthfully to these questions. He wondered if she even cared. 

“Okay, I’m gonna take your blood pressure and check your breathing. So off with the ugly jacket and down with Infinity.” The woman stated, turning her back to him as she grabbed the items needed while he mindlessly shrugged out of his uniform jacket, remaining in just a light short-sleeved shirt.

Shoko walked up to him, medical items in hand, and gave him a strange look before whistling. 

“Wow, someone had fun last night.” She commented slyly as she put the strap around his bicep to take his blood pressure.

Satoru frowned in confusion, his groggy and tired brain not yet catching up. “Huh?”

Shoko arched a thin eyebrow before lightly gesturing at his neck.

Satoru blinked a few times, still not quite understanding what the woman was talking about, shifting slightly in his sitting position, which made a spike of discomfort rise in his lower spine. 

And then it hit him. 

A hand automatically reached up to his own neck, slightly poking at the sore spots where hickies and love bites were most definitely littering his pale skin. 

He should have healed himself when he still had the chance.

“You alright?” Shoko’s confused voice broke him out of his internal freak out, gaze settling back on her face. She looked weirded out, eyes going back and forward between his face and the readings of his blood pressure, which were most likely abnormally high if his racing heart was any indication. 

He hesitantly nodded, throat too dry to formulate words. 

Shoko didn’t look convinced in the slightest. 

“You sure? ‘Cause you’re definitely freaking out about something. Your blood vessels seem ready to burst.”  She huffed, taking off the strap from his arm since at the moment she wouldn’t be getting any useful results.

“Yeah, I just-” He nervously cleared his throat, self-consciously rubbing at his neck “this isn’t- it’s not what you think-”

“Is that what this is about?” Shoko interrupted him with an amused snort. “Never thought you’d get flustered so easily. Come on, we’re all adults here. Was he at least good? I sure hope he was since you lied to me about being busy.”

“No, I didn't- it’s not-” Satoru hadn’t stuttered over his words so badly since he was a child. He wasn’t ready for this conversation, not yet. All of a sudden his smooth story-telling skills were failing him. He wasn’t ready for this.

“Satoru, chill . I’m not mad or anything.” Shoko reassured, misunderstanding his fumbling, a worried glint in her eyes. She was probably also unaccustomed to seeing him so unsure and frantic. “Don’t worry, I get why you didn’t tell me yesterday.”

Satoru shut his mouth and slowly nodded, praying that this would be the end of the conversation. 

Of course, it wasn’t.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“What question?”

“Was the guy you fucked good?”

Satoru felt himself flush. “Can we change the subject?” 

“Come on, since when are you such a prude?” Shoko teased, smirking, and Satoru gave her a hard stare.

“Shoko.”

The woman huffed, raising her hands in surrender. “Fine, fine. You’re no fun.”

She moved on with the medical check up, putting on her stethoscope and pressing the metal end of it to his chest to check his breathing, the room silent save for Satoru’s heavy breaths.

Once she was done she put the stethoscope back around her neck and moved to write down something in her files, humming under her breath.

Then, when Satoru thought that he was in the clear, she spoke up again. Her voice was unusually soft, though she didn’t raise her gaze from the papers.

“I’m happy for you, though. I really am. Honestly, I was beginning to think that you would never move on from Geto. I’m glad you’re moving forward.”

Satoru had to bite down a wince. His knuckles had turned white from where he was gripping the edge of the medical cot, feeling more tense than he did during meetings with the higher-ups.

Shoko kept going nevertheless. “So, who was the lucky one? Was it a sorcerer or a normie?”

Satoru remained silent. 

He considered lying. If he got a hold of his damn emotions he might have gotten away with it pretty easily, spout a vague story about a random man met in a bar or something like that and it would have been believable. 

But it didn’t feel right. 

Not with Shoko. Not with his closest friend. Not to the only other person who could understand him, who could understand this . 

She had loved Geto too, though differently. And she had lost him, too. 

It used to be the three of them against the world. Now there were only two left. They both felt the void of the empty space left in between them. If he lied to her about this, Satoru feared that it would only widen the void.

And perhaps, a part of him was actually longing to share his secret with someone, to say it out loud, to share that burden. And if not with Shoko, who else?

“Satoru?” The woman prompted at his long silence, worry pinching her eyebrows together.

He slowly reached up and lowered his blindfold until it fell around his neck, eyes bare and vulnerable as he finally met her gaze, hoping that his eyes could express what he couldn’t bring himself to say with words. 

“Shoko…” He simply whispered, begging for her understanding.

Shoko wasn’t Suguru. She couldn’t read right through him and decipher his every movement and microexpression with the incredible ease that he could. But she was still one of his closest friends, she had still known him since they were teens, she was still one of the very few people who knew what sat under the mask of Strongest Sorcerer.

So she understood him.

“Oh.” Was all she said at first, still searching desperately for answers in his expression, still processing. 

“Oh.” She repeated then, louder. And then her face lit up with stark realization, before her eyebrows furrowed and her mouth tilted downward, a sad sigh leaving her lips. 

“Oh, Satoru.”

There was pity in her tone. Normally he would have hated her for it, but right now it felt appropriate. He slumped forward and tipped his head down, defeated. 

“I know.”

“God dammit, it was him, wasn’t it?” Shoko’s sadness was quick to fade into exasperation, glaring down at Satoru as if he was an idiot. It felt deserved.

Satoru didn’t reply. He didn’t need to. 

Shoko groaned in annoyance and rubbed at her temples, a familiar action of frustration that was meant to hide the actual worry lingering beneath it. He had seen it plenty of times back in his high school years, back when his recklessness was still a reason for worry instead of just annoyance, back when he was still vulnerable, back when he could still get hurt and bleed like a human and Shoko still had reason to worry about him. 

After all this time she probably had forgotten, too, that he truly wasn’t a god. That he could be hurt even without blood needing to be drawn. 

“What the hell, Satoru?!”

“I know, I know-” He admitted, placatingly, but the woman didn’t seem to hear him.

“Was this a one time thing?”

Satoru couldn’t bear to look her in the eyes. He felt himself instinctually hunch over himself at the piercing question, like a kid being scolded and trying to make himself look smaller. As if he could ever just be small, insignificant. Sometimes he wishes he were. 

“No.” His voice was barely above a whisper, but Shoko still heard it as clear as day. 

Satoru expected her to explode once again, to yell at him and insult him. Instead, she just huffed, as if that single word had punched her in the stomach and fell back on her chair, tired, disbelieving.

“Shit.” She muttered, and he couldn’t help but snort.

“Yeah. Shit.”

Satoru felt her gaze on him, expectant, awaiting. 

He probably owed her an explanation. If only he had one. He would have liked one too. 

“I just-” His hands were in his hair, ruffling them nervously, as he searched desperately for the right words to try and make sense of his own mess. “I just can’t be without him, Shoko. I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?” There was no accusation in Shoko’s tone. She just sounded tired. She always did, lately.

“I don’t think I know the difference anymore.” Satoru softly admitted with a shaky sigh. Shoko seemed to accept that as an answer, leaning back on her chair and leveling him with a serious gaze.

“This is very fucked up, you know that right? I mean, he’s a murderer.”

Satoru shrugged, still avoiding her gaze. “It’s not like I’m a saint.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit.” Shoko scoffed. “Nothing that you’ve ever done is even remotely close to what he has done, what he’s still doing. He murdered an entire village in cold blood, and that was just day one . He is a fucking cult leader. He is to be executed, you’re the one who’s supposed to kill him, for fuck’s sake! Or did you forget about that?”

“I didn’t! I will do it, one day. If push comes to shove I’ll kill him. It’s my duty.”

“That is so fucked up, oh my God.” Shoko gave him an incredulous look. “How can you not hear how fucked up that is? How fucked up this whole thing is?”

“You don’t think I fucking know?!” Satoru snapped, finally meeting the woman’s gaze, his usually cool and calculating eyes now wild and frantic. 

Shoko flinched back at his sudden outburst, and her frustrated expression turned slightly apologetic. 

Satoru sighed, the fight quickly slipping out of him once again.

“I just- I can’t let him go, Shoko. I can’t lose him, not again. He keeps showing up and I can’t push him away, I can’t bring myself to say no to him. And I hate myself for it. Believe me, I’m the first one who’s angry, who’s ashamed of my weakness. I hate it, I hate it so fucking much!”

“Satoru-” 

“I still love him, Shoko. I love him. I hate that I do, but I do.” A shaky, bitter smile grew on his face as he looked back up at the woman and asked, “Does that make me a terrible person?”

Shoko hesitated and gulped, clearly uneasy with the uncharacteristic vulnerability that the man was displaying. 

“Since when do you care about being a good person?” She tried to tease, but it fell flat. Satoru frowned, dejected, and Shoko was quick to go back on her words.

“Seriously, though, it doesn’t. At least, I don’t think it does. We don’t get to pick and choose who we love. We just do . Hell, I also still love Geto, to be honest. I would very much like to punch him in the nuts for all the shit he did, but he was one of my closest friends and I do still love him.”

Satoru blinked, surprised at the admission. He realized that he and Shoko never truly talked about Suguru leaving. They had always just danced around the topic, avoiding anything further than a brief mention in passing. They never confronted one another on how they felt about the situation, never shared that burden despite the fact that they were both carrying it. 

It’s the reason why those first few years after their classmate’s defection had been so tense between the two of them, neither one willing to address the elephant in the room. It’s probably why their relationship never fully returned to what it had once been.

Satoru rationally knew that Shoko most likely also still missed Suguru. They had all been close, back in their youth, it was only natural. But it was strange to hear her say it out loud after years of avoidance and coldness. 

It felt reassuring. 

Perhaps she wasn’t going through exactly what Satoru was, but she could understand him. She could understand what it was like to love a man full of crimes and pain, not for what he has done but for who he had once been, who he could have become. 

It was comforting to know he wasn’t the only one who still couldn’t help but love Geto Suguru.

He smiled, sarcastic yet fond, hoping that his eyes could convey the gratefulness that he didn’t quite know how to express. “Guess we’re both terrible people then, huh?”

Shoko snorted, arching an eyebrow. “Hey, I’m not the one sleeping with a mass murderer.”

“Touché.”

Then Shoko got up from the chair she had previously collapsed on and slowly walked up to Satoru, not really sparing him a second glance as she hopped onto the medical bed right beside him, leaning back on her hands and staring at the wall in front of them.

“Satoru… You know that this is only going to hurt you in the end, right?” She softly prompted after a few moments of comfortable silence. 

“Yeah. I know.”

“And you’re fine with that?”

Satoru lightly shrugged. “I wouldn’t say I’m fine with it, I just… accept it, I guess? I mean, I’ve always known that I would end up alone, being the strongest and all that. That kind of life, that kind of happiness, has never really been an option for me. The Strongest isn’t meant for love. This is probably the best deal I’m going to get, as shitty as it is. At the end of the day, I love Suguru and he loves me, so I guess it’s not too bad. I can try to enjoy that while I can, before it all inevitably goes to shit even more than it already has.”

Shoko remained silent for a while after his confession. Satoru didn’t turn to look at her, so he couldn’t tell what was going through her mind from her expression, but he could feel her cursed energy spiking with a weird mix of anger, sadness and affection.

Eventually she just scoffed, leaning to the side to knock their shoulders together. 

“You idiot. It’s not true that you’re gonna end up alone. I’m here, aren’t I?”

Satoru looked back at her with surprise. But after he saw the honesty in her expression, he couldn’t help but smile, lightly knocking back her shoulder with his.

“Yeah, you’re right.”

She huffed, though she was smiling back. 

“I always am.” With that she leaned completely into Satoru’s side, resting her head on his shoulder in a way that she hadn’t done since they were seventeen.

“And you call me arrogant.” He teased before leaning his head on top of hers, the action as familiar as it had been all those years ago.

And for a while, he was at peace even without Suguru.

For his twenty-seventh birthday Suguru brought him flowers, kikufuku mochi, fucked him on the kitchen counter to the peak of bliss and then carried him to bed. 

When Satoru asked him to stay the night, Suguru had gently tucked his tired limbs under the covers, whispered soft apologies in the darkness of the room, and kissed him on the forehead before quietly leaving. 

Satoru had groggily reached for his phone on the nightstand, read through the happy birthday messages sent by Shoko, Nanami, Tsumiki and ( surprisingly ) Megumi, and found himself wishing that he had chosen to stay at the Fushiguro siblings’ apartment like Tsumiki had proposed instead of spending the night in his own cold and empty one.

He was tired of this loneliness.

It was at the beginning of summer the next time they met up, the heat sweltering, their bodies drenched in sweat as they moved in tandem, locked together.

At one point Suguru broke the sloppy kiss that Satoru had pulled him into, panting against his swollen lips and asking breathlessly, “Is it true that you have a student tied to a Special Grade curse?”

Satoru’s heat and pleasure riddled brain took a few seconds to process the out of pocket question.

“Yeah. Why?” He sighed out in between gasps and groans, nails raking the skin on Suguru’s back in an attempt to pull him closer to himself.

“Just curious.” Suguru grunted back, dipping his head down to nip at the other’s throat, smirking at the barely contained whimper it earned him. “Guess there’s four of us now, mh?”

“Huh?” Satoru glared up at the other. He really wanted to go back to normal dirty talk, not really in the right mindset to hold up a normal conversation at the moment.

Suguru laughed gently at his confused and annoyed expression, capturing his lips in a brief and sweet kiss. 

“Special Grades.” He explained breathlessly. “There are four of us now.”

“Yeah, I guess there are.” Satoru grit out, and before the other could continue with the weird questions, he tangled a hand in his long raven hair and pulled him down into a heated kiss, hips pushing back against Suguru’s and making them both groan in each other’s mouths.

The conversation was soon forgotten.

The next time he saw Suguru wasn’t in the quiet privacy of Satoru’s own apartment. 

It was right in the middle of Jujutsu Tech’s campus. Autumn leaves were painting the stone pathways orange and brown, and Satoru’s first year students were standing in between him and Suguru. 

The next time they saw each other was because of a declaration of war. A declaration of war towards non-sorcerers, towards jujutsu society, towards Satoru’s colleagues and students and towards Satoru himself.

The ice broke.

Satoru was fighting tooth and nail to not freeze and drown. 

That night he sensed a familiar cursed energy inside his apartment and felt his blood boil before even opening the door. 

He burst into his own living room with a seething rage, only amplified by the sight of Suguru calmly sprawled out on his couch as usual, as if he hadn’t pushed them past the point of no return that very morning. 

“What the fuck.” He bit out through gritted teeth, striding over to where the other man still looked as calm as ever.

“Welcome home, Satoru.”

“What the fuck?!” He repeated, louder, hovering over the sitting man. “You did not just show your face here as if nothing happened after declaring a war on me!”

Suguru looked unimpressed by his anger, swiftly getting up from the couch and brushing past the sorcerer. 

“You should know by now that it’s nothing personal, Satoru.” He said, almost reprimanding, as he walked to Satoru’s kitchen as if in his own home, leaning against the counter before turning back to him. 

“Did you really expect me to keep laying low forever?” The raven haired man tilted his head to the side, his condescending tone making Satoru’s eyes twitch in annoyance under his bandages. “I still have a plan to fulfill, you know that. I hope we can keep separating my activities from our relationship like we’ve always done.”

“I don’t think we can.” Satoru replied firmly, arms crossed against his chest and mouth tilted down in displeasure. “This is personal. You made it fucking personal when you involved my students.”

Suguru shrugged, feigning innocence. “I didn’t do anything to them. I just asked Okkotsu a few questions. Is that a crime?”

“You were trying to manipulate him!” Satoru accused, stepping once again into the other’s personal space. “And then you went on to insult Maki!”

At that, Suguru’s expression darkened. He leaned forward, leaving only a few inches in between their faces, gaze hard and icy. 

“I just told the truth. She shouldn’t even have been there, that filthy monkey. You’re just taking anyone to be your student, huh, Satoru? Collecting sick strays left and right?” He leaned back with a scoff. “You shouldn’t lower your standards so much just to spite the higher-ups, it’s unbecoming for a pillar of sorcery like you.” 

Satoru had gotten angry at Suguru many times in his life. Even before his defection, back when they were both just students, Suguru had been the only one able to push his every button, to slither under his skin and pierce through his mask of indifference. 

But he had never felt a rage like this.

He wanted to punch him in the face with all of his strength, to hear his jaw crack under his knuckles, to put his hands around his neck and squeeze , he wanted to throw him into the wall so hard to leave a permanent indentation without even using his technique, just raw strength and spite. 

If they were both still students this might have turned into a fist fight. They might have brawled on the school’s courtyard like they had done plenty of times before, releasing all of their pent up anger only to then cool off together in the infirmary after a good scolding by Yaga and make up as if nothing had ever happened in the first place. 

But they were no longer those people. Satoru had grown, matured, and learned how to reign in his anger, how to keep it close to his chest and let it pile up, higher and higher, and only release it when fighting, flaring up his already bottomless pit of cursed energy. 

Also, this kind of conflict couldn’t be resolved in a sparring session or petty scuffle. 

Satoru didn’t think it could be resolved at all. 

Still, he wouldn’t let such talk go unaccounted for.

Slowly, he reached up a hand, grabbing the white bandages around his eyes and tugging them down, letting his hair fall back onto his forehead and exposing his eyes. 

His expression was emotionless, gaze sharp and cold in that terrifying way that he used in battle to make opponents and allies alike quiver in fear, as he let his cursed energy flare up in a wordless threat, letting the air of the room grow thick and heavy with his own power.

“Talk shit about my students again and I will make sure that you won’t be able to ever talk again in your miserable life.” He seethed, voice unnervingly calm but threatening nonetheless.

Suguru, however, didn’t falter and cower like anyone else might have done before his icy glare and quiet rage. Instead he smirked, playful and mocking.

“Ooh , so protective.” He intoned teasingly, eyeing the sorcerer up and down without a trace of fear. “It’s a good look on you, not gonna lie.”

Satoru’s glare hardened, hot annoyance cracking through the icy mask as he put a hand on Suguru’s chest and shoved him back against the kitchen counter. 

“I’m not fucking joking around, Suguru! I know that you’re up to something. I know that this dumb Night Parade of a Hundred Demons is a facade. I don’t know yet what exactly it is that you’re planning, but if you dare even try to lay a hand on one of my students I won’t hesitate to fucking kill you!”

Suguru let out a cold, taunting laugh. 

“You’re about ten years late on that threat, Satoru.”

“Then it's finally time for me to go through with it, Suguru.” Satoru was quick to bite back, though it felt weaker than he would have liked. 

Suguru probably felt it too, his smug, confident expression not faltering. Satoru hated it. Hated that his power, his status, his threats, meant nothing to him. 

Once upon a time Suguru’s indifference towards his title was the very thing that had first attracted him to the man, the reason why he felt like he could drop his mask and just be himself when around him. It was a source of comfort, of warmth.

Now it was just a reminder of his failures. His failure to be the strongest, his failure to protect non sorcerers, to protect his colleagues, his students.

He shook his head and turned away, not bearing to look at Suguru any longer.

“Do whatever the fuck you want, Suguru, I don’t care. Just leave my students out of it.”

Suguru didn’t push further, probably sensing that Satoru was at his limit. 

Instead, he stepped closer to him, Satoru sensing him through his body heat as they stood almost chest to back. 

A pair of big, calloused hands rested on Satoru’s shoulders, gently starting to massage the flesh there, and a warm breath tickled the sorcerer’s ear.

“We should talk about something else. You’re so tense.” Suguru whispered, as if he wasn’t the sole reason for his being tense.

Satoru lightly shook his head, feeling somehow frozen on the spot, so close to giving in to that familiar soothing voice but fighting tooth and nail to keep his head straight.

“I don’t feel like talking. Not to you.”

Suguru simply hummed in response, and his hands slid down from his shoulders to his arms, teasingly, as he started nosing at his nape. Satoru shivered involuntarily, and Suguru saw that as a sign to keep going, leaving a trail of feather-light kisses along his neck and murmuring into pale skin as he gripped his hips.

“That’s fine. We don’t need to talk.”

Satoru felt himself close to giving in. He felt his resolve tremble and wobble, ready to crumble, felt his body responding to Suguru as if it was second nature, as if it was made only to be touched and molded by the other man, as if he could just be this , for only a moment. Only Satoru, only a man in love with another. 

But he has never been just a man.

A brief thought of his students suddenly came to him. His students who relied on him, who needed his protection, his loyalty. His students whom Suguru had insulted, had disrespected, had tried to manipulate. 

He wasn’t just a man. 

He was Gojo Satoru, strongest sorcerer of the modern era and, most importantly, teacher at Jujutsu Tech. 

And so he gathered all of his quivering strength and slipped from Suguru’s hands, pushing him away and turning around to stare him down with the most stoic expression he could manage.

“No, Suguru. I don’t want to see you right now. Just go.”

Suguru looked taken back by the rejection, and a flash of hurt slipped into his expression. He was quick, however, to hide it, putting on that same distant, conceited and incredibly fake mask that he had worn that morning at the school. 

“Now you are suddenly too good for this? Have you finally grown a conscience? It only took you, what, twenty-seven years?” He mocked condescendingly, a cold, mean sneer on his face. 

Satoru felt like he was looking at a completely different person from the man he knew, the man he loved. This Suguru was a stranger to him. It hurt, but it also made his next words easier. 

“Get out.” He left no room for argument, voice steady and commanding. 

Suguru scoffed and gave him an icy-cold smile. 

“All right, all right. Guess I’ll see you at the Parade, Gojo .”

The sorcerer didn’t dignify the taunt with a response, simply keeping his eyes steady in front of him as the curse user roughly shouldered past him and stormed out of the apartment.

Satoru stood there for who knows how long, lungs constricting around a familiar emptiness.

Their last secret meeting happens on Christmas Eve. 

The air was cold and biting, especially at Jujutsu Tech. 

They met at sunset in a dark alley, one where they used to hide in as dumb teenagers to escape from their responsibilities, to share stories and secrets and feelings. Satoru didn’t have to think twice before heading there, certain that he would find who he was looking for.

The air all around campus was crisp and buzzing with cursed energy, proof of the fight that had just occurred. All of Satoru’s senses had been overwhelmed by the strong residuals as soon as he got there. 

But in that alley, in that moment, all that he could sense was the stench of blood and regret. 

As he looked at Suguru, broken and bloody but still smiling and ranting about his purpose, he could barely hold himself together.

He knew that there was no more hesitating, no more putting it off.

This is it. Is all that he can think. This is it, this is it, this is it, this is it-

“You’re late, Satoru.” 

Suguru’s voice was soft and teasing, a callback to every time Satoru was late for class or for a mission in which they were paired up. 

Satoru took a deep breath, swallowing the urge to cry, to cling to Suguru’s bloodied body and call Shoko, begging her to save him. Instead, he clung to his stoic facade with every ounce of strength he had left.

He barely registered what they’re even saying. Everything toned down to a muffled buzz, feeling stale, lifeless, rotten as he readies himself to kill the man he loves. 

“I trusted you. I trusted that a man as principled as you wouldn’t kill off young sorcerers without a reason.”

I trusted you. Those words slipped out of him as naturally as they did when they were seventeen. It might have been foolish. He might have been foolish, careless, cruel for gambling his students’ life on a lingering trust that he still felt for a deeply twisted man, but in the end Suguru hadn’t let him down. 

“Trust, huh? I didn’t think I still had any of that left.” 

Suguru commented with a light chuckle, and Satoru wanted to shake some sense into him, wanted to punch him, to kiss him, wanted to curse him out, wanted to cry into his chest and pretend that everything will be fine.

“I just couldn’t wear a heartfelt smile in this world.”

The more time passed, the more Satoru started to truly understand Suguru and what he did. He didn’t approve of it or justify it, but he understood it. As Suguru talks, Satoru thinks that he can’t remember the last time his own smile has been truly heartfelt.

“Suguru… ______”

Suguru’s eyes widened slightly at his words, as if he didn’t know already. As if Satoru hadn’t been communicating those same words to him for ten years, even if not explicitly. 

Suguru laughed, a sweet, fond and breathless thing that Satoru wishes to capture and put in his pocket to take out and listen to over and over again whenever the numbness and loneliness becomes all too much. 

The realization that that will be the last time that he hears Suguru’s laugh made his chest ache and throat burn. 

“At least hit me with some curses at the end.”

Satoru, for a second, considered the other’s words.

He thought back to Yuta and Rika and wondered if he could also defy death and keep his loved one near him at all times. 

He certainly had the power to do so.

But that would have been too cruel even for him.

Suguru deserved to finally rest. He deserved to go out with a smile, with his lingering humanity and his beloved ideals. 

He didn’t deserve to spend any more time tied down to a life in which he can find no purpose, forced to be nothing more than Satoru’s shadow once again. 

He had swallowed down and absorbed too many curses already, he didn’t deserve to turn into one. 

And so Satoru did the hardest thing that he would ever have to do.

He let him go. 

He let himself have one last moment. 

One last kiss pressed against cold and trembling lips, the taste of copper staining his mouth as he bid his desperate farewell to his one and only.

A weak, red-stained hand clung feebly onto the collar of his jacket, by-passing infinity as it always did. 

Satoru let his forehead rest against Suguru’s own for a few seconds, listening to his troubled and wet breathing, basking into that fading warmth like a flower at sunset, taking in greedily the last Sun rays before his world went inevitably dark.

“Goodbye, Suguru.”

And with that he got up and stepped back. 

He raised a slightly trembling hand and let his cursed energy strike out. 

The sound of flesh tearing was overpowered by the static buzzing in his ears. 

He didn’t look at it. 

He didn’t linger. 

He didn’t cry or scream or tear out his own hair and skin. 

He just turned around.

“I need to find my students.” He muttered under his breath and started walking away, leaving whatever was left of Suguru there to deal with later.

Though he would grow to realize that that day, in that dark alley, he had also left a part of himself that he would never get back. 

A month had passed from that fateful day when he came to his apartment and sensed residuals of someone else’s cursed energy inside it.

He stopped in his tracks before the door, focusing on the energy’s signature and mentally preparing himself for a fight.

The energy wasn’t one that he recognized, but it was slightly familiar, as if belonging to someone that he had met only very briefly, not long enough to get familiarized with it, but long enough for his Six Eyes to vaguely remember it. 

He didn’t know what to expect when he stepped into his apartment, only to find it exactly as he left it.

He scanned the apartment, seeing that the tracks of the unidentifiable cursed energy came from his room, so he carefully stepped into it.

Just like the rest of the apartment, it also looked normal, except for two things.

The window was slightly open and there was a piece of paper placed neatly on his desk. 

He made a mental note to buy better locks for his windows and then snatched up the folded piece of paper on his desk, expecting anything ranging from a declaration of love by a stalker to a threat on his life by an assassin or curse user.

What he didn’t expect was to be met by Suguru’s handwriting. 

He almost dropped the note from the shock. 

Suddenly the gaping wound that he had done his best to cauterize and ignore was threatening to tear open once again. 

He wondered if this was some kind of sick joke being played on him.

He considered tearing up the stupid note and throwing it away, or even burning it just for his pleasure. 

Instead he sat down on the edge of his bed and started reading. 

Dear Satoru,

If you’re reading this, then you have finally killed me. 

Though it pains me to not have fulfilled my goal, dying by your hand is by far the sweetest defeat that I could have asked for, a much greater mercy than what I probably deserve. 

I would like to tell you to not feel bad, to not blame yourself and let guilt chip away at you as I know you are doing. But I know that it would be useless for me to say that.

You never liked listening to what anyone else tells you to do.

So, instead, I will just say this:

I’ll wait for you. 

Just don’t come too soon, okay?

For what it’s worth, I really did love you.

I’m sorry that it was never enough.

The wound was suddenly torn right open and bleeding all over the place, and Satoru let it happen.

He just slumped forward on his bed, pressed the note close to his chest and cried. He cried out everything that he has been holding back for the past month. He cried until he ran out of tears and his voice gave out, until his chest hurts and his throat burns.

And so, finally, a month after Suguru’s death, in the quiet and privacy of his hollow room, Satoru let himself grieve. 

He grieved in secret. 

Because grief is just love persevering. 

And he had known no other way to love if not in secret.