Chapter Text
Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto, third year roommates at Kaisen University, were practically attached to the hip throughout their first semester of junior year. Suguru would listen to Satoru’s audition material, because he understood being a theatre major was a weight on Gojo’s shoulders. In return, Gojo inspired Geto in his artwork and his philosophical essays.
“This is so stupid!” Exclaimed Gojo, while researching the requirements for his off campus theatre internship.
“What is it, Satoru?” Geto asked in his usual soft tone that diminished all sense of urgency from Gojo’s mind.
“Nothing.. Just this internship shit. Counselor wants all the theatre third years to get off campus internships; and our teacher wants us to change our WHOLE repertoire book! Ive been singing these songs for YEARS suguru. How can I do this?” Geto carefully listens and examines Gojo as he vents. Gojo was always very stressed when it came to theatre, that much was obvious to Geto. The only thing that ever seemed to calm him down was Geto. For some reason, Geto liked the idea of being the anchor in Gojo’s life.
“I’m sure you will find some amazing material, Satoru. You know you can always run it by me!” Geto says as his charcoal starts to brush the sketchpad in front of him, working on his fall art portfolio.
“It’s almost December, Suguru. The finals, auditions, classes… it's so much.” With these words, Geto understands. He understands Gojo needs a distraction, needs a break. So, he decides to close his sketchbook (Gojo can't see what's in there) and go to stand in front of Gojo. In a calm and comforting manner, (his best attempt), he reaches for Gojo’s glasses and takes them off his face.
“Close your eyes, Satoru. Do you need anything? Massage? Hug?”
“No.. thanks Suguru…” He really did need a hug.
Geto could tell. He could always tell. His arms instinctively lowered to Gojo’s shoulders and pulled him into a hug, moving on to the sitting boy’s lap to hug him better. Gojo fell into the hug and Geto swore he could feel Gojo crying on his shoulder. But he didn’t say anything. Right now, nothing needed to be said. He just needed to be there for his best friend.
Once he felt Gojo ease in his hold, Geto climbed off his lap and laid the white haired boy back down on the bed, pulling the comforter over him.
“Want to do anything? To distract yourself?”
Gojo nodded from where his head was buried in embarrassment under the sheets. Geto smirked, knowing this could go one way or another.
“What are you thinking, Satoru?”
“Party?” Gojo asked, so sweetly that Geto couldn't deny anything that came out of his best friends mouth.
“Anything.” With this, Geto noticed Gojo’s expression soften and become more alive.
“You’re looking for a girl, huh Satoru?”
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Gojo had never been much of a ladies man. Sure, girls swooned all over him in high school and even his recent college years, but he never found much interest in them. He had sex once- with the “hottest” girl in school during his senior year at Jujutsu high. He’s pretty sure she came quite a few times- but he could never seem to stay hard enough to finish. Maybe he just hasn’t met the right girl, he thought.
That was until university. During his freshman year, he went to a party without Geto. They weren't super close yet- so this was normal. And he had the best fucking sex of his life. (Well, the only fucking sex of his life, but still)... with a sophomore he had met there. His name was Kento Nanami- a beast of a man. Blonde, tall and muscular. Gojo saw him and something changed; something inside him twirled and turned him right on. That night, they shared some drinks and one thing led to another and Gojo was ruthlessly pounding into Nanami’s ass.
That was nice. Gojo thinks about how it felt a lot. How it felt being with a man. Not Nanami, but a man. But nobody can know. Even though he was in theatre (a pretty dead giveaway), he had still managed to hide from the university’s prying eyes. Even Geto’s. No one had to know his dirty secret. His sinful act.
But with the stress of the fall semester, Gojo needs some fucking release.
“Party?”
“Anything.” Anything. Geto would do anything for him. How lucky was he? A pause. “You’re looking for a girl, huh Satoru?”
Something like that. It's been almost 2 years now, and the only person he’s touched is Geto. And he’s 100% sure Geto is a woman-eater. Like… everyone wants him. So he’ll leave him to be…
“Something like that.” Gojo finally responds. Too obvious? Nah. Maybe? Nah. He just hopes to the gods that there's a nice ass to spread tonight.
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9:30 pm
They had decided on a frat house only a black away- just a chill friday night function. Gojo liked to smoke- and they had plenty of variety. Geto usually opted to stay sober to take care of his friend, but sometimes indulges in some liquor. Hard. Hard was the only way he liked it.
They arrived at the house- quieter than a usual frat. Good. Gojo didn’t need to be overwhelmed tonight. When they stepped through the door, the smell of weed his their noses instantly. Geto let Gojo forge his own path- watching him trail over to the source of the smell. Gojo. Gojo. Gojo looked good tonight. He wasn’t wearing much different than his usual- just a black shit that fit around his arms and waist and some loose grey sweatpants. Geto wanted to take out his book and sketch him right now. But that’d be weird as fuck.
As he watched the white hair move through the living room, he observed how he wasn't making any stops to the girls in the room. Weird. Though this was the ladies man’s way of distracting himself. But no- Gojo beelined straight for the guy with the blunts and took one. When he turned around, he smiled at Geto. An inviting smile. For him to come smoke? Yeah. To come smoke.
Geto followed the path taken by the other, avoiding all the other guys and women. None of those monkeys even mattered.
“I see you've found what you're looking for, Satoru. Though it's not what I expected to be your priority.”
Gojo lets out a deep chuckle. “I imagine pussy tastes good, but not as good as a high does.”
“You imagine?” Geto questions. Gojo looks startled for a second and then seems as though he tries to play it off.
“I know it tastes good, Suguru.” Geto notices a bit more of something in his voice when he says his name. What was it? Bragging? Does he know Geto is a virgin?
“None of the girls here catch your eye, do they Suguru?” Gojo rambles on, clearly getting more affected by the pot. Geto is surprised Gojo hasn't caught on to him yet. Who does he think he draws all the time? Why would he watch that hockey show with the Russian and Canadian rivals so often? When has he ever brought a girl to the dorm?
“You could say that, Satoru.” Geto adds that same something in his voice this time. And it seems to bring something out in gojo- a very high something- but still something.
Gojo leans forward and brushes a stray piece of black hair behind Geto’s hair. “Then we might be in the same boat.” He says, inches away from Geto’s face. What does he mean by that?
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As the night goes on, Geto tries to keep his distance and let his friend have his fun. While also trying not to overthink their conversation. (impossible.) It was only 11 PM now, but Gojo was getting clumsy which was usually a sign of lets get the fuck out before we break something of value.
As Geto walked Gojo back to their dorm, his hand rested on the white haired boy’s back.
“Have fun, Satoru?”
“S’ much fun Suguuuu~” Ah yes. The affectionate nickname he was only called when Gojo was in a different state of mind. Not to say he hated it though.
“S’ funnnn, had weed and beer and was so fun and saw you and had so much fun Suguuu~ just didn't get lucky ts’ time… been long time Suguuu~”
“Its been a long time since what?”
Gojo stopped walking and wobbled in place. He looked in Geto’s eyes with a pouty sad expression.
“Nobody wants my dick Suguuuu~ they all think its ugly”
“Literally nobody says that.”
“Fineeee noone says that but noone wants meeee”
“What are you talking about Satoru? Every girl in there asked me for your number.”
“Wasnt lookin’ at them..”
“Who were you looking for?”
Gojo stopped talking. Stopped making eye contact and started walking again, this time with a little more sobriety in his step.
“You” he whispered under his breath, the last word he'd speak to Geto all night.
Geto heard it.