Gojo says it so earnestly that you almost consider it. You gather your coat from the bar stool with a roll of your eyes, tongue in your cheek and you pretend to consider it. He just watches from over those black-out glasses, chewing on the crumbled remnants of his plastic straw like it’s gum. He’s pretending the alcohol hasn’t hit him, but you know that uneven smile means he’s had one Long Island too many.
“Snowball’s chance in hell.” you slam down a handful of crumbled bills, hoping that it’s enough to cover the tab. You can hear him shuffling behind you, waving to the bartender with a cheery little goodbye. You don’t even give them a second glance, pushing open the tavern door to be immediately greeted by winter’s cruel bite. Snow is falling faster now, filling in the tire tracks of cars long passed. The alcohol has your cheeks burning, but the immediate frozen wind has you raw.
“You’re going to walk home alone in this, snowball?” Gojo asks, but you don’t respond.
The city is quiet, muted by the layers of snow that have already fallen. Your shoes squeak against untrammeled ground and you can hear Gojo following suit, presumably stepping between your footprints. Creak. Creak. Creak. The neon glow of various signs and lights defuse down the street, never fully letting darkness have a foot hold.
Gojo suddenly takes three bigs steps and it’s enough to surpass you. He stands there, hunched over you with the same Cheshire smile as always, blocking your way.
“Come home with me.” Gojo’s breath curls in front of his face as he talks. You try not to smile at the way his glasses fog; can he even tell? Are his eyes capable of seeing that? They must be. “Come on, you’ll freeze before you even reach the train station.”
He rolls his eyes. You can’t see him do it, but you know it to be true. It’s in the way his tongue tucks into his lip for a moment, the bunching of his shoulders. “Please.”
He leans in, tip of his nose nudging against yours over and over again in a silent beg. “Come home with me, please.”
You can feel the chilled kiss of snow -fat, globby monster flakes that only form when temperatures fall this low,- watching them land on your coat and hair, clinging there. They perfectly blend into his hair, lost in the blizzard that is Satoru.
It'd be so easy to lose yourself in him too, let him take you home and envelope you into you're no longer sure where you end and he begins. He reaches for you, arms wide like you belong between them, like it’s a given you’ll step into them (and you do, you oblige without even thinking about it, lost in the moment, lost in the quiet storm that is him.)
“No.” You don’t pull away. “You’re just gonna fuck me and forget me.”
The back of his hand brushes up and down your waist, so simple and respectful, and yet so completely, unabashedly loving that you almost believe him when he says: “I could never forget you.”
When his mouth finds yours, he’s so warm compared to the world around you, so warm that it burns. He tastes like a cacophony of alcohol, sweet and sticky, as he kisses you with the sloppy sort of reckless abandon you’ve grown addicted to. He leans over, diving further into the kiss every moment, holding your face in place with one impossibly cold hand.
When you pull away, spit glosses his pretty pink lips. The smile is gone, replaced with a soft, gentle want as he pushes his glasses back up his nose. Every knuckle of his hand is red and cracked, wind bitten beyond belief. If he had his technique turned on, he’d be protected, untouched.
But he keeps it off, pulling you closer still.
“You’re really going to break my heart? Going to let me sleep alone?” Gojo looks at you from over his glasses, watching you with endless blue. Snowflakes are caught in his eyelashes, soft and fluffy like dandelion seeds, “Let me keep you warm tonight.”
He melts you with a final kiss right between your eyebrows. You take a deep breath, savoring how the cold aches in your lungs, “You’re going to ruin me, aren’t you?”
A car passes you, slowly drifting through the streets. It’s bumping some old, bluesy song you know, but can’t remember the words to. The melody fades into the distance, replaced with only the gentle static of snow.
Gojo’s momentary grin fades as he leans in for a final kiss, voice dropping down to a murmur, “I was about to ask you the same thing.”
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