I think one of the gentlest things in the world is when a friend just gets your weird little brain. like you say half a sentence and they finish it. you reference something incredibly niche from seven years ago and they’re already nodding. they understand your strange vocabulary for emotions that don’t have real words yet. it’s being seen and known and still loved. maybe especially because you’re known. god. what a gift.
ex best friends are just. i will never love anyone the way i loved you. you hurt me so much in a way only you could. i still think about you on your birthday and wish i could be there celebrating with you. i hate that things ended the way they did. i don’t think anyone will ever understand me like you did. i miss our inside jokes. i’ll never forget you and i wish all of the dreams we talked about come true for you. i hope i never hear anything about it. i miss you. i never want to see you again.
you and him have been dating for some time now, and at first he was pretty normal about it. of course, he didn’t understand everything that comes with being someone’s boyfriend and was obviously nervous whenever you’d both do anything romantic.
but now…he’s the one who makes you nervous. everywhere that you go, and i mean everywhere, he is always there. even if you can’t see him.
you’re in the kitchen making something? he’ll hug you from behind and hinder your movement, and when you scold him he’ll just stand next to you instead; just staring at the side of your face.
if you‘re taking a shower, he wont get in with you, but he will sit on the toilet and just talk to you about his day.
even when you’re in public and you need to use the restroom, he will stand right outside of the bathroom holding all of your things. at first you had to teach him that he can’t just waltz into the women’s restroom, and he was confused, but now he just waits patiently for you.
in other words, choso is soso clingy to you. he wants to be near you every second of the day. of course he’ll leave you alone when you ask him to, but not without whining a little and making it obvious that he’s bored without you. to him, just sitting in your presence is enough to entertain him and make him happy.
A loud knock interrupted sleep, well your attempt at falling asleep. You turn over, eyes peeking at the clock on your side table, 2:12AM.
A knock rings through your room once more, slower this time, heavier, as if whoever was standing on the other side of the door was putting their weight into it.
You groaned, running your red-rimmed eyes and dragging yourself out of bed and towards the door. Who was up at this time? There's no way your neighbours were out this late and locked themselves out — especially not on a weeknight.
You straightened your night shirt and shorts, the shirt wasn't even yours, it still smelt of him yet you couldn't bear the shame of returning it.
“Satoru?”
Gojo swayed in the doorway, tall frame hunched beneath the dim hallway light. His white hair was a mess, cheeks pink from alcohol and the cold night air. His designer jacket smelt of cheap alcohol and expensive cologne.
And his usually bright, blue eyes looked… wrecked as if he hadn't slept a wink in days.
The moment his eyes met yours something in him cracked.
Before you could even question him on why he was at your dorm at this hour he slumped into your arms, his large frame nearly knocking you over. “Missed you… S’much,” he slurred into your hair, nuzzling his face closer and inhaling your shampoo.
Something in your stomach twisted. You shouldn't be bitter about it, not really, it's not like you two were official or anything. But it still hurt.
It hurt because he was the first guy to really see you, not just as the ‘quiet kid’ or the ‘nerd,’ Satoru saw you for you, despite being a frat brother, all those late night drives, those cafe study dates, even the lingering kisses.
Then one day he stopped answering your texts, started avoiding you in the library, and eventually told you he had lost feelings on some random Tuesday.
You cried for an entire week, beating yourself up for believing he would want to be with you.
“Satoru,” your voice came out shakier than intended, “are you drunk?”
“Only jus’ a little.” he slurred out, drool starting to pool at the corner of his mouth. “Why are you drinking, I thought you didn't like it?” He giggled at your words, “You always know me too well, pretty girl.”
He stayed clinging to you, backing you up until he was fully inside your dorm and the door clicked shut behind him. It was silent for a moment — except for Gojo’s breath in your ear, then something wet dripped onto your neck.
“Ew are you drooling —” you pulled him off you, finally meeting his gaze again, a soft gasp escaped you, “— why are you crying?” His eyes were redder now, soft tears spilling onto his pale cheeks.
He hiccuped, pulling you closer once more. “I lied… I messed up s’bad, I didn't get bored, fuck I could never get bored of you. You're so funny, and pretty, and you smell really good. Like a cupcake.” His rambling continued as fresh tears welled in his eyes.
You swallowed hard, forcing yourself not to look away. “Then why did you do it?”
“M’stupid, that's why.”
“I know that, but that's not an answer.”
His head dropped forward until his forehead rested against yours. “The guys got to my head,” he admitted quietly. “They said I’m wasting my ‘potential’ and could pull that hot girl Shoko hangs out with.” He took a gasping breath, face contorting into one of disgust, “but she isn't hot, she's just not a nerd like you. But that makes you hot.”
You had to bite back a laugh, forcing a serious expression as he continued. “They said you're clingy, too serious but I loved that about you. You're perfect for my stupid self.”
“It really hurt me, what you did.” Your voice felt small, as if your throat was tightening.
“I know.”
“Do you?”
Tears blurred your vision before you could stop them. “You don't know how it felt,” you choked out. “Like I was some hobby, or some prop you kept around.” Gojo’s mouth twisted into a deeper frown, “Don't say that —”
“It’s true.”
“No it's not.” His voice came out desperate this time, yet somehow firm.
He cupped your face carefully, like he thought you might break apart in his hands. “You meant everything,” he said shakily. “That was the problem, I let them convince me that being utterly whipped for you was a bad thing.”
You stared at him through your tears, and a soft sniffle filled the silence.
“A-and I tried to ignore them, o-or tell them that I didn't care about you like that, but I do.” He gave a soft laugh, words sloshing around his mouth as he slipped further into his drunk haze.
Another tear slipped down your cheek, and he caught it with his thumb, swiping it away. “I wanted to answer your texts, to see you in the library at lunch — hell I wanted to come over,” he whispered, “I knew I fucked up.”
He was silent for a moment before speaking again. “I got hammered just to tell you this, y’know? I hate drinking but you're worth it.”
His eyes searched yours desperately. “Kept thinking about your laugh and your stupid jokes you make and the way you steal my clothes—”
A choked laugh escaped you despite yourself and Satoru’s expression softened at the sound. “There she is,” he murmured.
You shook your head, crying harder now. “You’re an asshole.”
“Yeah…but I’m your asshole…?” He looked down at you hopefully, “Ew, don't make it weird.” You laughed, wiping the tears from your eyes.
A tiny smile tugged weakly at his mouth. He swayed dangerously, alcohol still humming in his veins, “Let's get you to bed, Satoru.” You caught the mischievous glint in his eyes, “Don’t be a freak, I mean to sleep.” You watched his face fall then brighten up once more, “Can we sleep together —” He straightened when he saw your stern gaze, “— not like that.”
You guided him to your bedroom, he kicked his shoes off messily near the door and practically collapsed into your bed with a dramatic groan that almost made you laugh again.
“God,” he muttered. “The room is spinning.” You rolled your eyes, tossing over some of his clothes that you had stole forgot to return. “Hey, keep your eyes to yourself.” He muttered as he not-so-gracefully shimmied out of his jeans.
You climbed into bed beside him, the second you did, Gojo opened his arms. You hesitantly curled up next to him, the feeling oddly familiar.
“M’sorry,” he whispered into your hair, his eyes fluttering shut and sleep began to take him.
“I know.”
He pressed a wet kiss to your forehead, finally succumbing to the after-effects of the alcohol.
He's going to be in for it tomorrow when you ‘ran out’ of painkillers for his hangover.
a/n: thank you @ingydingyy for the request I hope I did your idea justice <3
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