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Cat's Out Of The Bag !!

Pairing: Gojo x reader

Contents: fluff, angst, comfort, slightly suggestive, depiction of serious injury, transformed-cat Satoru, miscommunication… very ooc, reader thinks Satoru hates her, but really he’s just stupid and shy, tense changes, and a somewhat messily written end

12.5k words

Inspired by @indiewritesxoxo bunny!suguru fic (i love you)

You always thought Gojo Satoru disliked you, or at the very least, tolerated you with polite indifference. You knew you were the weakest link in your circle, and he never let you forget it through his careful avoidance. So when disaster struck and you were tasked with the care of a feline Satoru, you couldn’t help but feel the uncomfortable tension between tufts of fur.

Somewhere amidst the destroyed furniture, the 3 AM zoomies, and the way those impossibly blue eyes watch your every move, you start to wonder if you'd read him wrong all along. And when he finally does change back, you realize the real curse might be trying to defer to the way things were.

There has never been a curse-related obstacle Satoru Gojo could not face on his own. It was not hyperbole to claim he was the strongest among you, the best equipped to come out unscathed from a battle.

So how was it, exactly, that he was stood before you, amidst your couch cushions, a near six feet shorter, with copious amounts of fur coalescing into a large white ball?

Perhaps it would help to take a step back, to trace the thread of events that led you here.

--

Late afternoon sunlight slanted through the school's courtyard, warming your spot on the bench when you got the call.

Shoko's voice pulled you to your feet with a single word: emergency.

You needed to come to her office immediately, she had said. You had stood upright against the gentle wind, gauging the seriousness of the situation. She had insisted urgency, but her voice had betrayed her, staccato giggles, words stretched tight with suppressed amusement.

Shoko did not giggle.

You had made an attempt at getting the details, but none were granted. Very little information had been given by the time you had swept up your bag and rushed to your friend's office. Shoko greeted you at the door, her lips pursed in a tentative fashion.

When you rounded the corner into her lab, you immediately saw Suguru, his back slumped against a chair with an arm stretched up high, covering his eyes.

The room was filled with a tension you don't think you've ever felt before. Something uneasy, balancing on the edge of fear and elation.

"What is it?" Perhaps you had read Shoko's cadence wrong, perhaps she hadn't been laughing, perhaps this was serious.

Suguru removed his arm from his face, revealing an embarrassed smile. He tilted his head in the direction of the lab counter.

And that's when you saw him.

"Shoko!!" You gasped.

Halfway out of the infirmary sink, struggling with admirable determination, was a large white cat. Long-haired and distinctly out of sorts. The creature regarded you with a massive set of blue eyes.

You shrank in on yourself, finding it impossible to not encroach on the creatures space. You took careful steps closer, not wanting to scare it. You spoke softly.

"Where did you find it?"

Suguru leaned forward in his chair onto his knees, "Oh, just on our mission." The statement fell flat at the end, deliberately unimpressed.

You studied the creature a moment and turned to look at Suguru. "No collar? But the coat is so clean? Surely not a stray..." You turned your attention back on the pair of them. Suguru and Shoko leaned into each other, echoing in turn, "Surely not."

You squinted. "What is it?"

Something was off. You could feel it in the way Suguru's withheld laughter kept threatening to escape, in how Shoko's gaze slid away from yours like it never had before. You should've known better; Suguru would have never just brought back a random animal he had found on a mission.

You slowed yourself, "Why did you bring me here?"

Suguru shook his head, waving a finger in the cat's direction. "What? You don't recognize him?" Shoko smacked his shoulder, and you whipped your head around.

The cat was stretched out all pretty within the sink basin, fur catching the lab light in an almost pearlescent, bluish tinge. A paw was repeatedly reaching out to attempt purchase on the counter's edge, only until it seemed to wobble a bit on uncertain legs. Each time those fuzzy toes found the rim, they would slide on the slick epoxy exterior. A resounding bonk ensued from the effort.

"Oh dear..." You drew nearer.

Cats were typically quite agile; this poor thing certainly seemed to be out of its element. As you came close, you were taken aback by just how luminescent his eyes appeared. You'd never seen anything with eyes that blue...except maybe for one man...

You shudder and whip around. Suguru’s teasing tone stuck in your mind.

What? You don't recognize him?

"No..."

"Oh, yes." Suguru finally allowed himself to laugh.

"You're kidding?" You took a step back, "That's... Satoru?" A loud wail followed from the sink. "Oh my gosh!" Your head bolted to look again, and you staggered back some more.

"Oh, come on, Gojo, you can get out of there." Shoko took a cigarette from her bag and ushered you to sit down.

"What is happening? How did this happen? What...What?" You kept looking around the room in hopes of something making sense, but you were granted no reprieve. You wanted to believe this was some kind of joke, but Shoko looked too serious then, and Suguru never thought himself this funny.

The cat continued to howl from the sink. "I can't answer your questions, not really, at least." Shoko put her face in her palm and looked at you. "Curse. You know that much. I really can't tell if this will last, but I called you here for a reason." She was offering you a cigarette, which you politely declined.

"I... hope that reason was to gawk at him because there's nothing I can do to help...you know that, right?"

"Would you shut up?" Suguru dragged himself up to his feet now to get Gojo to stop with his cries. When he attempted to extricate the furry body from the sink, however, Suguru jerked back with a hiss.

"Ouch... cut that out."

Gojo's newly acquired claws sank into Suguru's knit sweater, puncturing the flesh beneath. Suguru promptly yanked the feline away and dropped him to the floor. The angry red marks on his forearms served as proof of the attack.

If Gojo had been talkative before, that was only exacerbated tenfold in his new form.

"No, no, actually, there is a way you can help." Shoko was then tugging on your sleeve to draw your attention back to her again. "Listen, this is bigger than we realize."

"You think?" Your eyes roll. The strongest sorcerer the world had got had been reduced to a mewling cub, unable to even get himself out of a sink. "What exactly am I supposed to do?"

Suguru had taken the liberty of dragging a chair over to sit with you both. "I'm glad you asked." He grinned, waggling his foot to get Gojo to stop trying to crawl up him.

This was all just a little too much to wrap your head around. You sat, uncomfortably waiting to hear what their plan was.

“Yeah... so, we're gonna need you to take him in."

There was a pause when you huffed a little chuckle in response. That moment of silence passed before you sank into your chair. "Wait....are you serious?"

Shoko waggled the cigarette in your face once more. "I can't do that! I don't know the first thing about turning cursed humans back into sorcerers!"

"Yeah, me neither. And that's my job right now. We just need you to keep an eye on him... you know...while he's... like that." It was a bit comical how you all leaned over to catch a glimpse of the man in question.

Those huge, round eyes were hard to read; he had taken a collection of moments without making any noise, something that had already started to concern you all.

As it would turn out, Gojo didn't like you all talking about him while he was right there with you. In a moment, those tufts of ears were pulled back, his tail swooshing aggressively before he pounced onto the counter you were all seated at.

"Why couldn't you have done that while you were in the sink, huh?" Suguru glared at the cat before he could go back to that ungodly sound.

You all paused to watch him for a moment. Gojo seemed like he just couldn't take up enough space, calling out loudly to anything that would listen, every so often falling onto his side and rolling about for a moment before flipping back up and circling the table's edge again.

"Why...why is this my responsibility?" You didn't want to sound like a pouty child, but seriously, could nobody else cat-sit for a little while? How did this task land on you? You weren't even close with the man.

"Who else comes to your mind? Seriously, if you have somebody you know who would keep him, shoot them a text." Shoko nudged Gojo's face away from her when he started to headbutt her arm before continuing, "I'd ask someone in Kyoto, but you know that's too close to the higher-ups. I don't think I have to explain why nobody can know about this."

You shook your head, imagining what would happen if it got out that Gojo Satoru was incapacitated like this.

"No." You twiddled your thumbs for a moment. Shoko didn’t even look desperate; she looked like it had been settled. No argument passed your lips; none of it had even felt real. "So... what exactly is this going to look like?"

And so they laid out the plan while you wondered quietly how much planning they had done without you, knowing you would say yes.

-Shoko was going to research homo transformation, its effects, and potential reversal with the hope of figuring everything out before she was tasked with her annual report in Kyoto these coming weeks -Suguru was going to continue as usual, taking on the missions Gojo couldn’t while trying to find the curse that was able to cause this and get away -Yaga would be spinning the idea that Satoru was out of the country, a believable alibi for when the higher-ups came knocking -And you, your responsibility would be having the strongest sorcerer locked away in your one-bedroom apartment as you desperately attempted to keep him alive

--

And that is how you found yourself here, sat awkwardly next to Satoru Gojo on your couch, something you would have never guessed could happen, especially not given the current circumstances.

It had taken a lot of coaxing to get Gojo into the cat carrier earlier today. How the two of you wound up at your doorstep awaiting a delivery of cat food, toys, and litter was beyond you.

It was fair to say that the day had not shaped up as you had anticipated at all.

By the time you had dragged everything into your place and unzipped the carrier, it was clear that your guest was not exactly pleased with the situation. Gojo had initially skittered forward, gnawing loosely at your ankles to force your attention down to him.

You two had never been super close, you and Gojo. Not for lack of trying on your end.

Gojo Satoru had always been so friendly and outgoing with others, and it's not that he wasn't polite with you, just that he never seemed to put in the same amount of time into your friendship.

Where he would tease Nanami, he would send you a slight smile, where he would relentlessly bother Shoko, he would spare you a few quick glances, and where he laughed loudly with Suguru, he would occasionally include you in awkward conversation.

It was evident from the start that he didn't think you were important enough for his time.

He wouldn't say that, of course not, he might not even think it, but by the way he became uncharacteristically avoidant around you, it was clear he preferred the company of those stronger, even if they would never be on his level.

You had always been resigned to the knowledge that he just...didn't like you very much.

It wouldn't be wrong to claim you were the weakest among your close circle. Sometimes, you even felt as though you didn't belong in the grade one rank. Gojo would pester Utahime about being semi-grade one, but still turn away when you met his gaze. It seemed you were just that unimpressive to him.

But here he was. Gnawing at your ankle.

He must be terribly upset about all of this. Needing to be in your care, the protection of someone he deemed so beneath him.

"Gojo.." You tried to shake him off. Unsure of how to even begin assessing the situation and handling the new dynamic.

--

Satoru had no idea what was going on. Not really. It was hard to pay any real attention to the words people were saying when he was too consumed with the fact that they were ignoring him.

There was something humiliating about being dragged to and fro without any care for his thoughts. He was sure that if Suguru had just tried hard enough, he would've been able to understand what he wanted to get across.

He was bordering on desperation, trapped within the confines of your living room. You, someone he had known from childhood but hardly knew anything about. Of course, his two closest friends would put you up to the task of being his live-in human, would it have taken that much begging to get Nanami to agree to it?.... Maybe so, but you?!

His neck was hurting, already strained from having to look up so much. He felt practically blind right now, what with his range being 10 inches off the ground. And worst of all, he couldn't even complain about it!

Satoru found himself racing around your apartment. Doing what he could to just get you away from him. Damn Suguru. Of course, he would send him here, to live with you.

The last thing he wanted was for you to feel burdened by his presence, especially considering he had spent the better half of his acquaintance with you in avoidance and the fact that he wasn't even himself at the moment.

"Gojo? Are you...okay? Where did you go?" You shuffled into the room he had escaped to, slowly, perhaps thinking you had startled him or something.

He was hidden beneath a large slab of furniture, pawing at himself embarrassingly, trying to get a feel for this new body he was trapped in.

He looked down, but all he could see were his back legs stretched out. He pawed at the ceiling above him, turning his "hands" before his face, watching as he stroked them down his furry front.

"Umm.." Satoru heard you crouch, "Do you maybe wanna come out? I can show you... around... or like, show you a mirror? Have you seen yourself yet? Do you... even understand me right now?"

You rambled on, squating down to try and see him, but for some reason, that made the whole situation worse. Eventually, by some force he could not control, Satoru scuttled out, something primal calling him to attack your sock.

The moment he took the first nibble, he froze, eyes wide, back feet in the air, attempting to kick you frantically.

What was wrong with him?

"Are you okay? Gojo...what are you doing?"

Your hands tentatively reached out. He was still, in shock, it would seem, but your soft touch lit something in him. You pulled him up into your arms, holding him at an awkward distance.

Never before in his life could Satoru Gojo recall being held. Never before had he allowed it.

Yes, he found himself repeating, yes, I know what you're saying.

"Okay, okay, I'm putting you down, I'm sorry." You retracted yourself quickly, plopping his body on what must have been a mattress. Satoru realized immediately that he must have just been hiding beneath your bed just a moment ago.

"Sorry...sorry, okay." He watched you spin around in your room, mumbling to yourself. He wasn't sure why you were apologizing. You slid yourself to your knees, crouching at his level, resting your chin on your duvet. "Gojo...I'm gonna test this, okay?"

Satoru sighed, paused for a moment to think, and wiggled himself nearer to you, lying flat so your faces were close to each other.

You speak in a hush, "If you know what I'm saying, nod your head."

He sits up. Nods.

"Oh... God, okay, now raise your hand- er..paw..." He follows.

"Gojo... this isn't a prank. You're really in there?"

Yes!! He tried to tell you, but, frustratingly, you didn't seem to hear him.

You leaped up from the ground suddenly, "Oh my gosh... you're talking to me!" You pointed at him, as if it were the strangest thing ever.

He meowed in what you assumed was a very exasperated tone

You really were not sure what to do. At least you knew now that the curse had not erased Gojo's ability to understand human language.

After a short period of trying to communicate, you ushered Gojo to leap up onto your vanity, allowing him to take a good look in the mirror. The yowl that followed was both pitiful and indignant. If you hadn't known this was embarrassing for him, you would have found it more amusing.

--

By evening, you were starting to grow restless with the idea of keeping him. You had yet to be provided with a bed for Gojo, something you weren't sure how to handle. Every time you tried to get him to settle down on your own bed, he would race up again, seemingly upset you couldn't understand whatever he was trying to communicate. His tail would lash, those impossibly blue eyes would narrow, and another series of frustrated meows soon followed.

It had already been late afternoon when you were tasked with his care; now, it was fully dark outside.

Strange as it seemed, you would have never thought to touch Satoru Gojo so comfortably, but in this new body of his, it seemed only natural.

So, in the same way a parent coaxes a fussy toddler to lie down for an afternoon nap by lying down beside them, you eventually wooed Satoru to rest by allowing yourself to doze right next to him.

You did keep a respectful distance, of course, but your presence seemed to calm him. That fear of not being understood eventually subsided with the crickets chirping. And within minutes, his agitated movements slowed, then stopped altogether.

--

When you awoke some time later, there was a dull ache in your side from having fallen asleep sitting up. Your duvet was ruffled cutely around your new visitor, his white fur catching the amber glow of your bedside lamp filtering through the shade. His little furry chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm.

You stopped to study him for a moment, this mighty sorcerer reduced to something so small and vulnerable. It felt wrong, somehow, to see him like this. Wrong, but also oddly precious in a way you didn't want to examine too closely.

--

You had known Gojo in high school; he hadn't changed too much since, but you could still recall a time when the boy would complain about his endless duties, and even then, you knew he hadn't just been dramatic for the fun of it.

"Yeah, they keep getting on my case about mastering Domain Expansion before I'm seventeen," he'd groaned to Suguru one evening. "As if I'm not already the strongest," he rolled his eyes behind those silly circular glasses, "like, I'm some kind of machine they could just program."

The six of you had settled beside each other on the grass the night before winter break. You can recall how cold it had been, the harsh wind freezing you, but you had wanted to come out and see everyone before the new year.

You had been close enough to each other that your knee had almost brushed against his, and everything had been very still. You didn't want to break the spell that was keeping him in your proximity.

"True that it's not fair," Suguru had sighed, leaning back onto his palms, "I doubt the elders see any of us as people," he continued, his voice carrying that particular edge it got when he was trying to console someone without embarrassing them. "So... that's why it's our job to do it for them-" Satoru cut him off with a groan, fingers tangling messily in the grass between you.

When you'd looked over to see your upperclassman rolling his eyes, remnants of the conversation you were missing fading out, he had met your gaze. His eyes, impossibly bright in the dark then, had finally not slid from your own

"At least you guys don't look at me like that," he'd said quietly, almost accusingly, as if the kindness he had been afforded by coming to Jujutsu Tech was somehow more dangerous than all the pressure the clan elders placed on his shoulders.

You had lingered perhaps a moment too long looking at him, missing the context.

"Like what?" you'd asked, and almost immediately felt bad for it. Why would you speak? You barely knew him at all, surely he didn't actually want to talk to you...But you wouldn't be seeing him until the next term started, and you so desperately wanted to be closer.

"Like I'm just... Satoru," he'd sighed, and then immediately looked away to Shoko, who was rubbing his hair and assuring him he was nothing special.

That was the first time you had felt like he really had been speaking to you, and by the next term, those moments between you had remained just as rare.

--

You sat up a bit, you didn't have a guest room, and it felt highly inappropriate to share a bed with Gojo, even in his...current state. The decision was easy, really. You would take the couch. After all, he needed rest to recover, and you really didn't mind taking up less space; if anything, it was your preference.

You slipped off the bed as quietly as you could, tiptoeing toward the door. Just before you left, you glanced back one more time.

He looked so peaceful like this, without that wall of superiority and humor he usually wore.

The living room was cool and dim, lit only by the soft glow of the kitchen stove light. You grabbed a throw blanket from the back of the couch and settled in, your eyes tracing the familiar patterns on your ceiling.

Your mind wouldn't quiet. Today had been impossible, completely, utterly impossible. And yet here you were, with Satoru Gojo sleeping in your bed, trapped in the body of a cat because of some curse neither Shoko nor Suguru knew the origin of.

By the time your eyes finally slid closed, your brain was whispering that all of it had been no more than a dream.

--

Satoru woke to darkness and disorientation.

For a blessed half-second, he thought maybe it had all been some bizarre nightmare. Then he tried to stretch and felt the unfamiliar pull of four legs instead of two, felt whiskers twitch against fabric that was far too close to his face. Felt an extra appendage pulling his lower back...

Right. Of course, still a cat. Still cursed.

He blinked a few times, though his eyes seemed to fail him; his night vision was surprisingly sharp in this form. What he recalled to be your room was quiet, bathed in the purple-grey of late evening. The spot next to him on the bed was empty, the covers barely disturbed where he'd remembered you being.

Well, that couldn't be right....

Satoru stood, his body moving with an unsettling grace he hadn't quite adjusted to yet. He padded across the duvet, hopped down to the floor with a soft thump, and made his way toward the door you'd left cracked open.

The moment he entered the living room and turned the corner, he saw you.

Curled up on that ridiculous excuse for a couch, far too small for comfortable sleeping, with one arm tucked under your head and a thin throw blanket that had already slipped halfway off. You were still wearing your uniform pants and shirt, like you'd been too tired, or too considerate of not disturbing him, to even change.

Something hot and uncomfortable twisted in his chest.

Of course. Of course, you would give up your own bed for a responsibility a fraction of your size. Of course, you would make yourself less important, less deserving of basic comfort. It was so perfectly, frustratingly you that Satoru felt his tail lash in agitation before he could stop it.

He couldn't help but feel the disappointments he always felt, did you really think so little of yourself? Did you really believe that he, even like this, especially like this, deserved your bed more than you did? Or was it that you were just too embarrassed to share?

The thought made him want to yell in frustration, but he bit it back, knowing some unusual sound would replace his normally steady voice. You needed sleep, even if you'd chosen the worst possible place to get it.

Satoru approached the couch with careful steps, his paws silent on the floor. Up close, he could see the slight furrow between your brows, the way your shoulder was already angled awkwardly against the couch cushion. You'd be sore in the morning. You were probably already sore now.

This was absolutely unacceptable.

He gathered himself and jumped up onto the couch, landing near your hip. You stirred slightly but didn't wake. Your couch was narrow, barely enough space for you, let alone you both, but Satoru didn't really care that much.

He toed his way carefully over your side, circled once, twice, and then settled himself firmly in the space between your bent knees and the back of the couch. He pressed his small furry body against you.

This close, he could hear your breathing, steady and soft. Could feel the rise and fall of your form against his head. Could hear, even from his position on your calves, the constant thump of your heart.

It was quite hard for him to not fantasize about it all.

This was so typical, seeing you rearrange your life for what really was the perfect inconvenience. And you were doing it for him. He couldn't even call the two of you close.

You see, to Gojo, after years of not really knowing what to say, it became hard to say anything at all around you. Easier to keep his distance, to stay silent, than to risk revealing just how much attention he actually paid to you.

And now he couldn't say anything even if he had the words, unable to do anything except press himself against you and hope you understood even a fraction of what he couldn't say. Even if it was just,

Thanks for not leaving me to Shoko's smoky apartment...

He knows she wouldn't have shared her comfy bed with him.

Your breathing shifted, and slowly you began to turn in your sleep, moving to face the back of the couch. Satoru unfurled and slowly snuck up to come rest nearer to you. Not quite touching, but close enough that he could feel the warmth of you more.

Satoru tucked his head down and closed his eyes.

If you woke up and tried to move him, he'd make himself as heavy and immovable as possible. You'd taken care of him today, multiple times now, actually. The least he could do was make sure you didn't spend the whole night cramped on this awful couch alone.

Even if he couldn't say thank you.

Even if you'd never know why.

--

Three days into this arrangement, you were...all respect to the honored one, potentially starting to lose your mind.

Shoko had called twice with updates that amounted to quite literally nothing. Suguru had stopped by once with supplies and absolutely zero leads on the curse responsible and had a good laugh. And you had been running yourself ragged trying to maintain normalcy while also keeping the world's strongest sorcerer alive.

On a large scale, it wasn't all that hard, but what had been a successful first night of keeping Gojo asleep ended up being a huge bout of luck because that man. Did not sleep through the night. Ever.

As it would turn out, Gojo was a terrible patient. He refused to eat the cat food you'd bought (you'd resorted to giving him plain chicken, rice, and fish). It was as if he couldn't help himself but knock things off your counters with what seemed like deliberate intent, followed by genuine remorse, and he had this annoying habit of sitting directly in your field of vision whenever you pulled out your laptop, or book, or knitting, or God knows what else.

Do not even mention the 3 AM zoomies.

Worse than all of this, however, was the way he watched you. Those unnervingly blue eyes tracked your every movement, and you couldn't shake the feeling that he was judging you. Cataloguing every mistake, every inadequacy, storing them up for when he got his body back so he could finally tell everyone what a disaster you were.

A bit dramatic, yes, but he had always been so observant of everyone for that very reason.

You hoped he was just deathly bored.

You knew it must be hard. It's not as though you could stay home and entertain him all day; you still had a job to do. Suguru had bought him all kinds of kitty sensory toys, but let's just say, Gojo was not fond of them.

Maybe it was because of how Suguru teased him when he came over to drop them off, maybe it was because he just enjoyed tipping stuff off the counters more then he liked chasing electronic mice. Who is to say?

You knew he needed engagement, some stimulation; you were trying your best.

This day in particular had been especially brutal. A mission that should have taken two hours had stretched into six. The two students who had come with you had quite a bit of trouble and you felt badly enough to buy them dinner. By the end of it all, it was fair to say you were drained.

Finally home, you stumbled through your apartment door well after dark, your body moving on autopilot. Keys on the hook. Shoes kicked off. Bag dropped by the door.

Your uniform wasn't actually that uncomfortable, but after such a long day, all you wanted were your pajamas.

You pulled your shirt over your head as you walked toward your bedroom, already mentally checked out, your fingers working through your hair.

"...Ow," you muttered, almost tripping over yourself to put your socks in the laundry basket, fingers fumbling with your skirt. You were halfway to your dresser, in just your underwear, by the way, when you heard it.

A very pointed, very loud meow.

You froze.

Your head whipped to the side, and there he was, Satoru, perched on your dresser, his white tail swishing in slow, deliberate arcs. Those blue eyes were wider than you'd ever seen them, his stance wide as well, and if a cat could look scandalized, he absolutely did.

"Oh my gosh!" You grabbed the nearest piece of clothing, yesterday's shirt, and held it against yourself, after a moment of realizing it covered little to nothing, you instead decided to throw it at him.

The t-shirt landed, effectively covering him, he spun beneath it, somewhat caught off guard. After a quick escape, he turned his head away sharply, and you could swear his ears were pressed back in what might have been mortification.

Your face was burning as you scrambled to pull on clean clothes, your hands shaking slightly.

How could you have possibly forgotten? "I'm sorry, I'm sorry...just" you heaved, pulling on a long t-shirt, "wasn't thinking and...I just came home and—" You rambled on, "gosh I'm an idiot, I have no idea what—"

Another meow, this one somehow conveying both forgiveness as well as a, "please stop talking."

You pressed your hands to your face, wanting the floor to swallow you whole. Of all the people to accidentally flash, it had to be him. The one person whose opinion of you was already so low that you couldn't afford to sink any further.

At least he got some form of entertainment.

When you finally dared to peek through your fingers, Gojo had turned back around. He spun around a bit on the floor beside the dresser and padded over to you, sitting at your feet. He looked up at you and made a small, questioning sound, his head tilted.

Are you like...good?

The question, unspoken but somehow clear, made your head throb. Wishing you could somehow erase the past ten minutes of your life.

"That was awful," you managed to get out. "I'm...just tired. And mortified. Mostly mortified."

He bumped his head against your shin, once, twice. Then, promptly rolled his eyes at you. Maybe it was only fair for you to shame yourself so, considering he was perpetually on display.

"Jesus, you must be starved..." You realized, shaking your head, and led him to the kitchen.

You hoped and prayed this would be the last of the public humiliation Satoru Gojo got to witness.

--

Satoru had learned many things in the past week of being a cat. Aside from the realization that he had a complete inability to control his impulses, he also learned:

His sense of smell was overwhelming and occasionally nauseating.

The urge to chase anything that moved was both instinctual and deeply humiliating, especially when it caused you to wake up and become concerned for him.

And lastly, you were terrible at taking care of yourself.

It wasn't that he hadn't noticed before, oh, of course he had. He'd always noticed everything about you, filed away every detail like he couldn't help himself. But living with you, watching your routines up close, made it impossible to ignore.

You worked yourself to exhaustion all the time. You apologized for things that weren't your fault. You ate irregularly at best, and sometimes not at all. And you didn't seem to find any issue with these behaviors, which made him want to chew on something. A habit the both of you were trying to get him to break.

This morning was a perfect example.

You'd woken up late (still getting used to sharing a bed, he supposes, though it had come very naturally to him). He'd watched from his spot on the couch as you'd rushed around your apartment in record speed, pulled on your uniform, slipped on your shoes, and grabbed your bag.

You were halfway to the door when he realized you were about to leave without breakfast or a packed lunch.

Again.

Satoru launched himself from the couch and ran directly into your path, planting himself between you and the door. Calling loudly at you.

"Excuse me?" He was straightening his back quite defiantly, he could tell.

Stumbling to a stop, you nearly tripped over his moving figure.

"Gojo! I- I left something out for you- sorry, I don't have time to play, I'm already late—"

He didn't move. Instead, he sat down and looked up at you with the most pathetic expression he could muster. He even added a small, pitiful mew for effect.

"I" You turned back to check, "you've got food and water, you can't be going outside, you know that, I'm sor-"

He clawed at his own head in irritation, turned and walked deliberately toward the kitchen, then looked back at you. When you didn't follow, he did it again. Kitchen. You. Kitchen. You.

"Are you... feeling sick? What is it?"

Finally. He meowed, leaped onto the counter, and pawed at a cabinet.

Are you blind? He wanted to sass.

"You want... food?" You looked confused. "But your bowls are full?"

He resisted the urge to bite his tail in frustration. Instead, he jumped onto the counter (something you'd told him not to do at least a dozen times) and headbutted the cabinet door that contained your cereal.

"That's...mine, Gojo, I think it would probably make you sick."

Yes! Exactly! That's the entire point!

He meowed again, more insistently this time, and pawed at the cabinet.

You stood there for a long moment, and he could see the exact second it clicked. Your expression shifted from confusion to slight indignation.

"Are you... telling me to eat breakfast?"

He hopped down from the counter and wound himself around your legs in what he hoped was an encouraging figure-eight pattern.

"Gojo..." Your voice was disbelieving. "I really don't have time, trust me, I'm not like you, I can go a day—"

He couldn't help it...he didn't mean to... okay, he did.

He bit your ankle.

It had been a while since he had done that, spurred into action, you yelp, "Okay!" and reached down to scoop him up without thinking, holding him against your chest as you grabbed a protein bar from the cabinet with your other hand. "Happy now? This counts as breakfast."

See, this was the hard part; he couldn't "cheek" you into listening to him in this form, because a bar absolutely did not count, and he'd definitely need someone to address it when he turned back, but it was better than nothing. He allowed himself to relax slightly in your arms, rolling those big eyes once more.

"I don't understand you," you murmured, almost to yourself. You were scratching behind his ears now, absently, like you'd forgotten you were holding him. "I thought you couldn't stand me, but now you're just like my mother."

That stopped him short. His ear twitched.

Instead, he just pushed his head more firmly into your palm and purred.

You couldn't stop an almost-laugh. "You're very weird, you know that?"

Oh, you had no idea.

"Okay, I really do have to go now." You set him down gently, and he watched as you shoved the protein bar in your pocket and headed for the door. But just before you left, you turned back to look at him.

This was the hard part. Before, it had consisted of lazing around, waiting for Suguru to kill the damn curse that had caused this and turn him back. Somewhere along the way, it became sitting around all day and awaiting your return.

The door closed behind you, and Satoru sat in the silence of your apartment, tail swishing in agitation.

In all honesty, it had started to get good, living with you. There was a comfortable normalcy to it all; Satoru had even allowed himself to enjoy his new life.

Decent and consistent meals, more sleep than he had ever gotten, a companion to watch movies with, and a chance to be with you. What was there to complain about?

For the first time ever, in this new form, it was easy to be around you, to not be held back by the ever-present thudding in his chest, by the voice that told him he was going to stutter and lose his chill-flirty-guy look simply by attempting to hold your gaze.

When he had first met you, he was still trying to discover himself; he didn't know what kind of a person he was or wanted to be. He liked being the guy people wanted him to be (as much as he would deny it) but he never quite figured out what kind of a person you liked, and so, he found himself delaying your conversations until his confidence came to him.

That day just never really came. He had psyched himself into heart-stilling muteness whenever you were around.

Although now, some days, you would come home late, and that would mean he got to complain loudly while following you around, never truly upset.

It actually felt good to tease you; he had never let himself do it before.

Satoru slid near the window, listening to the mumble of the TV you had left on for him, and impatiently waited for the noise of your car.

--

When your head was clear, you were always worried about how others saw you and how they perceived your weakness. But in moments of desperation like these, you couldn't even seem to bring yourself to care about tripping down the hallway of your apartment complex.

Saliva flooded your mouth as you became frustrated with your door handle. Shaking it with irate need until it finally swung open.

Your whole body should be in pain right now, or at least giving you something, any feeling at all. You feared its impending arrival, knowing the adrenaline could only last so long, but all you could focus on now was how you were getting copious amounts of blood across your carpet.

Wide births of it seem to sink into the flooring below your shaky feet as you toss your bag to the floor along with the rag you had been holding to your head.

You shouldn't have left it at the entrance, but you had dropped it with everything else in your hands, and the front door was too far to go back to now.

Your brain was focused on how you were beginning to come alarmingly close to puking on top of the filth as well, and how your eyes kept getting blurry from the blood.

Clearly, you were not in a headspace of decent awareness because you had not even thought about how your cat might respond to your mess. Of Satoru seeing you in this state.

Wow, this was embarrassing. It shook you for a moment as Satoru circled your ankles.

You know he probably meant well, but in your current state, you could hardly walk without stumbling. Tears of frustration at the whole event prick your eyes. At the blood you know stained your car, your home, your uniform. You couldn't tell if it was blood or sweat that made your jacket stick to your flesh, but you hated how it felt.

You wanted this to stop, to push it away and bother with it in the morning, and you would've, only now, the pain was starting to arise in scarily strong waves.

You would feel bad looking back on it, the force you used. In those moments, it had almost been as though Satoru was trying to trip you with the way he kept blocking your path, his head tilted straight up. In a moment of frustration at everything, the pain, your stupid mistake, at the damn blood slicking your hair to your scalp, you shoved Satoru back rather aggressively with your foot, kicking him so he couldn’t follow you into the bathroom, where you slid behind the door.

Weak, a poor excuse for a sorcerer, and also now mean.

Satoru heard you slump to the floor. He heard your heart pumping. Smelled the festering of your flesh.

And he was useless through it all.

You felt yourself slip a bit, swallowing your own spit repeatedly, attempting to keep the bile down. The tiles of your bathroom floor were cold on your exposed flesh. A distant part of your brain reminded you how gross it was to just be lying here on the floor of your bathroom, but it was such a minute call amongst the alarm bells that were your pain receptors.

You tried to take an assessment of your body. It wasn't actually as bad as you thought, nor as bad as it looked. The long, jerky drive home likely exacerbated the issue. You would have called Shoko, only you knew she was in Kyoto right now.

Today was her report with the higher-ups.

And besides, there were only so many sorcerers who were able to heal others, and with Satoru "on vacation," her jobs were only becoming more frequent.

The one time when you needed to be strong, to stand up for yourself and not fall back on the help of others, you couldn't do it without making a fool of yourself. You really were pathetic.

Gojo's shouts would have been funny had they not been so incessant.

"It’s okay, Satoru..." You wheeze, "I’m alright, buddy." You weren't that convincing, even you knew that. But the torn-up noises he was making on the other side of the door were starting to become somewhat concerning.

Your words, however, did not have a comforting effect on him; had he been able to speak properly, you would have heard his, "You’re not. You’re really not."

On the other side of the bathroom door, Satoru was in a state of complete panic, unable to gauge what exactly was going on. Why the hell were you here, alone on your bathroom floor when you could be in Shoko’s lab? In a hospital, for Christ's sake? Why were you wasting your energy trying to comfort him?

He hated himself. He hated this stupid body. He hated how weak he was. But most of all, he hated those painful gasps of breath you were making. It caused him to wince.

He couldn't even enjoy the fact that for the very first time, you were calling him by his first name.

He needed to get in there.

Eventually, you were able to pull yourself up against the sink cupboard with a sopping cloth pressed messily to your head while your free hand worked on opening a first aid kit you kept handy.

A painful chuckle escaped you when a wild paw slid itself under the bathroom door, swiping at nothing.

Silly boy.

“It’s alright…it all looks worse than it is.”

You were really just talking to yourself at this point, little murmurs of ‘you can do it…’ as you hyped yourself up to using hydrogen peroxide with shaky hands, a great way to blind yourself.

As your blood started seeping into the hand towel beside your skull more and more, you realized you might actually be right.

The wound itself wasn’t that bad. There were just a lot of blood vessels in the scalp...at least that’s what you told yourself as the cap for the antiseptic came undone.

The cloying bile arose in your throat once more, your eyes blurred, and without allowing yourself the chance to change your mind, you slipped across the linoleum tile, leaned back over the shower-bath, and doused yourself.

It was pitiful, the noises you made. It was a sickening cry, the type of pain that made you angry. You had to repeatedly swallow down your gags.

You could barely hear the mewls over the sound of your own hiccups now.

“Almost done. It’s almost done.” You stroked your own neck to self-soothe.

The shocking sting subsided blissfully and slowly dulled into a casual ache. You had a sudden and childish desire to just hold your kitty. To forget all of this and just fall asleep. But you knew you would have to bandage yourself, even if it sucked all of your energy to do so.

Your legs shook as you stood, dropping the sodden and useless towel to the floor, and gripped the sink, looking at yourself.

It was almost scary to see. You flipped the sink on and washed your hands, and after looking for something dry to wipe them (and your sticky face) on, you leaned over and pulled the door open a crack.

Just like everything else, it seemed like Satoru wanted to take part. He was in the bathroom before you could say a word. Those big eyes kept scaling the length of you. His ears were pulled to the sides slightly, and his tail dragged the floor. His limbs appeared to be squatted low, and he just kept pacing around you silently.

“Sorry you had to see this.” You chuckle. Everything was making you a bit delirious, but knowing the worst of it was gone made it strangely easy to laugh.

Satoru did not seem to find it funny, an angry moan resounding from between your legs.

He hopped up onto the toilet seat and, from there, leaped to the sink, likely trying to get a better look at you. With a slightly damp and soapy hand, you stroked his tiny head, a feeling he usually would have disliked, but let slide this time, probably given the circumstances.

You attempted to shush him gently, but that only seemed to fan his anger.

"Shhh, I'm sorry, Satoru, I don't understand you."

You grabbed the towel from before and reached behind him to turn the sink on, allowing it to soak before ringing it out a few times. Satorus's nose scrunched up, probably at the coppary smell of your blood.

Once a bit cleaner, you took the wet rag and started blotting the stains on your uniform, small slashes here and there, nothing as serious as the head wound, but still dripping.

You made an attempt at salvaging your clothes but decided rather quickly to forego the whole endeavor in favor of a sloppy bandaging job and lying down, an idea much more appealing to your weak and dizzy mind.

Satoru cried, mewling a single note every so often when he had to shift to see your face. He jumped from the sink when you gave up with your uniform, the rag left in the sink for when you had a little more energy.

You laughed, something short and sweet, when you tried to lean over to pull your shoes off. His head almost bonked yours, you carefully responded by lifting him up and placing him on the bed. Even the simple movement seemed to hurt, you were usure of the current state of your injuries, but your bandages did not seem to be leaking sticky fluid, so that was a great start.

Your face scrunching up as you sucked in another breath. Slowly removing your clothes, discarding them into your laundry basket, even though you knew they would need to be thrown out in the morning.

When you turned to look for something easy and comfortable to change into, you saw the cat stoutly facing away from you, a large nightshirt having suddenly appeared on the mattress.

"Thanks, Satoru," You sighed, leaning into the bed before pulling it slowly over your head. You took stock of what was of imminent need, and highest on the list before anything else was sleep.

Before you lifted your worn body into bed, you bent over to his hiding form and pressed a kiss to Satoru's forehead.

When he turned to look, you were already trying to get comfortable. There was no use in forcing you to call for help, in keeping you from rest, he knew that. But that didn't mean he wasn't sick to his stomach.

He also knew with startling clarity that he needed you to kiss him again, the real him.

--

You could tell something was different before you were really even awake. It wasn't because you were so painfully sore that you couldn't bare the thought of waking up, or because your head throbbed with the beat of your heart either.

It’s not exactly like you had worlds of experience sharing a bed with someone, but even you could tell in this state that a human arm was heavily wrapped around your upper waist. The warm skin, the corded muscle, and those fingers that were unconsciously curled into your flesh.

Your face was pressed against something firm, your own warm breath ricocheting back in a calming cycle. In your half-asleep daze, you mapped your hands across the smooth expanse of skin and hard muscle that was weighing against you and definitely had not been there when you had fallen asleep.

The duvet was tucked tightly around your legs, along with some other tangled limbs you weren’t accustomed to, far too long to belong to the small creature you had grown accustomed to. Your norm had become a gentler...say, eight pounds of purring fluff on your back or calves, not whatever this was.

You rarely awoke before your alarm, so it was with blinking surprise that you found yourself trying to squirm free, just for Satoru, because of course it had to be him, to grumble something incoherent in his sleep and hold your hip tighter. "Sato, shit, Gojo," You groaned as you corrected yourself, managing to pull your arms free to start pushing him back.

Your sides and lower back still hurt from yesterday; the pain lingered with every movement. In response to your pushes, he simply readjusted instead, moving down to nuzzle his head back into your neck, long white hair splayed out and tickling your cheeks, still too asleep to realize he wasn't the same small kitty anymore.

He groaned a sigh, fully unaware, not able to take note of his body that could no longer simply curl up on you. You wheeze a bit, "You're...heavy-"

And finally, he stirred, his body going completely rigid, the moment of understanding hitting him.

"Fuck." His voice was hoarse and raw, scratching its way out of his throat as though it was a pain to use. Almost like he hadn't used it in weeks...which, technically, he hadn't.

It took him a second to start moving, every motion slow, sluggish, while he untangled himself from you and the blanket.

You tried not to stare, really you did, but as you sat up in your bed, you watched as he jolted, your eyes having a mind of their own, raking over his body, betraying you.

You traced the movement of his shoulders, the line of his spine, and--

He was naked. Completely and utterly nude.

You made a startled-strangled noise, immediately looking away and throwing a blanket in his general direction to cover up. A feeling of deja vu followed.

Both of you were speaking over each other, neither really making sense. You had slipped off your mattress and were pointing him in the direction of your closet when he finally stopped muttering.

"Um, okay, well, I'm, uh, gonna call Suguru so he can get you some clothes," You rambled, covering your eyes with one hand and fumbling for your phone where you could've sworn you left it on the nightstand before you fell asleep. Quickly and without your notice, a warm hand brushed against yours, goosebumps going up your arm as sturdy fingers unintentionally skimmed over your skin. It took you a painfully long second to realize he was holding your phone out for you to take.

"Thanks," You choked out, grabbing it and crawling back to the other side of the room so you wouldn't accidentally bump into him. "You can just, uh, use my closet to sit...or relax or whatever." You were scurrying out before he could reply, clutching your phone like a shield to save you from the sheer awkwardness.

In your hurry, you hadn't realized you'd loosened your pathetic excuse for bandages until you felt something dry and scratchy itching at your forehead as you slammed the door behind you and started frantically thumbing through your contacts for Suguru. "Shit," You muttered, hitting the call button and tucking it between your ear and shoulder, right after you had hurried to the bathroom to clean yourself up, choking down a few more painkillers dry as the phone rang.

"Good morning, I assume you are calling to share some good news?" Suguru's voice sounded annoyingly chipper for once; you could only guess he knew your predicament. He had answered right as you had perched yourself on the edge of the bathroom counter.

Your back and side hurt way more now than they did last night. You ground your molars just replaying the memory of that stupid curse catching you off guard after you thought you had finished it.

There was a sharp knock on the bathroom door, and you forced yourself back on your feet, politely blocking out Suguru's explanation of his evening.

You checked yourself in the mirror, and your soul dropped at the sight of yourself. There was, unfortunately, nothing left for you to hide from your roommate at this point, though, and you eventually pulled open the door.

You couldn't find the words when your eyes met his. Satoru's face was pulled tight, jaw clenched as his intense blue eyes assessed you. He was looking at you in a way he never had before...not to say you often caught him staring, because you really didn't.

Your heart sank. He almost looked angry. Disappointment flooded your mind and drowned you for a moment before the man gently took your wrist, and with a tenderness that did not match his expression, requested your phone.

There was blood all over the bathroom.

You just nodded.

To think, this towering man had been living with you for over a week now, and you had somehow found normalcy in it. When Satoru stepped into the bathroom, you suddenly found the space to be impossibly small. Forced to look up at him now, you wondered where that small, soft creature you'd gotten used to had gone.

"She's hurt," Satoru spoke slowly, interrupting his friend's rehashing of how he had found the curse. "You should be here to help her."

Suguru had not expected that to be a response, but he was put into action quickly by the unusual sternness in Satoru's voice.

Before Suguru had the chance to come and pick you up, Satoru spent the time fussing. You had expected his first day back to be more celebratory, a happier conversation perhaps, not,

"And why didn't you go to Shoko?",

"Do you have any idea how worried I was?",

"You lost practically a liter of blood!",

"And you weren't even listening to me..."

All this was followed by a rustling of a hand through his hair, which proceeded with,

"You're still shaking, Christ, I can see how hurt you are.",

"I have good eyes, you know this, but they were really bad back there, which was really just all the more scary when you literally kicked me from this bathroom!",

"Kicked me!!"

"And then you just went to sleep? There was nothing I could even do to- are you even listening?"

You had made several attempts at breaking his frantic sentences but finally, you put out a shaky hand, motioning for him, "Satoru..."

He paced forward, seemingly concerned.

"You're...in a towel..."

--

When Suguru arrived, you were forced to endure the removal of all his softness, replaced by harsh instructions. You didn't know what sort of face you were making, didn't want to when you were sure it was probably tinged with hurt or worse, something as embarrassing as a blush.

Satoru coming back to himself had always been the plan, but you hadn't considered what that would look like. How might it change the unfamiliar dynamic you had shared?

You were now caught somewhere between devastation and desire when you couldn't tell what new box he'd fit you into now, or if he'd just returned you to the one you'd been stuck in before, barely more than coworkers.

That was what you promised him, all those nights ago, right? That things would go back to normal once Suguru could find and destroy the curse.

But now that it had happened, you wished you had spent more time planning on how to respond. You had kidded yourself into thinking this wouldn't be hard, no matter how much you liked his presence, how much you convinced yourself there was some silent connection you shared, he had always been the same person, too far out of reach.

You couldn't read his face anymore, not now that he was a man.

--

The shoebox was waiting on your desk when you arrived at the school three days later, that Monday.

Plain, unmarked, sitting there like it had always belonged. You approached it cautiously, glancing around the empty classroom as if someone might jump out and explain. When you lifted the lid, you stopped short and turned to find the person who had left them.

Shoes. New ones. The same style as the pair that you had been wearing for years now. The ones that had been destroyed several nights ago by a certain ferocious feline. You can recall sighing at his regretful face, murmuring something like "...those were expensive".

There was no note. No explanation. But you didn't need one.

You had the sudden steam of guilt brewing in your mind. The notion that Gojo might have gone out of his way because he believed he had upset you just made you all the more uncomfortable. Not to mention the two of you hadn't said a word to each other since the day Suguru took him home.

You picked up one of the shoes, running your thumb over the pristine material, and something warm and painful bloomed in your chest. The souls were all nice and clean; it had been a while since your pair had looked anything like that.

You put the lid back on the box and tried very hard not to cry.

It wasn't because he had spent far too much money on you. Well, maybe that played a small part, but more likely, it was because he hadn't said anything at all.

Everything was falling right back into the routine you were accustomed to. You might see each other here and there, maybe at a work event, he might catch your gaze, in a few months, he might even include you in a conversation, and you could allow yourself to pretend it meant something more, but at the end of the day, you belonged in your world, and he in his.

Why was it that you were doomed to care so much for someone who you knew would never feel the same way?

--

You managed to avoid him for a week.

It wasn't difficult in the slightest. Satoru had been swarmed with assignments and meetings the moment he'd returned, the higher-ups were eager to deploy their strongest asset after his mysterious "overseas assignment."

You'd heard about it through Suguru, who seemed more than ever to be involved in your friendship with the man. He was far too amused by your sudden aversion to rooms he was in, especially since he knew you had once tried to look for them.

That being said, you couldn't avoid everyone forever, and certainly not Shoko, especially not when you'd torn your stitches again on a mission in Osaka.

"You're an idiot," she said flatly the afternoon you returned with some dried blood in your hairline, threading the needle with practiced efficiency. "These were almost healed."

"I know."

"You're going to scar worse if you keep this up."

"I know."

It felt like just yesterday you had thrown her into a coughing fit when she found out you had used hydrogen peroxide to clean the wound. Now, she was sighing, and you heard the distinctive click of her lighter. It hardly felt like it, but a month ago, now you had been in this very office, with this very woman, being granted an opportunity that at the time had felt like a joke.

"He's been asking about you, ya know."

Your stomach twisted. "Sho-"

"I'm just saying. Whatever weird thing you two have going on, maybe talk about it? Instead of running away from him?"

You didn't answer, and she didn't push. You had asked about it before, long ago whispers in your childhood dorm of, "do you think I did something to make him not like me?" resurfaceing. Even she couldn't explain why you were different to him.

She finished the stitches in silence, then left you sitting on the examination table with instructions to rest that you both knew you wouldn't follow.

You were pulling your hand back down from your head when the door opened once more.

Satoru stood in the doorway, Suguru just behind him. They both froze when they saw you, but it was Satoru's expression that made your heart stutter, something real and unguarded crossing his face before he schooled it away.

"Hey," he spoke first, silent, Suguru still behind him. His brows were knitted together, searching your face.

"Hi," you echoed back, avoiding his sharp gaze in favor of the desk, Shoko's abandoned coffee cup, the floor...the new shoes adorning your feet...

"You're hurt?" His voice was still rough around the edges, too low, not quite as smooth as it used to be. Like it was still remembering how to flow properly.

"Not really...not anymore," you shook your head, forcing your tone to stay light. "Shoko fixed me up."

"You shouldn't push yourself so hard," he frowned, taking a step closer.

The concern in his voice felt like a hand around your throat. You're pathetic. You've never seen him need help from Shoko, he could do it himself if he ever got hurt, which, of course, never happened.

You hopped off the table quickly, brushing past his broad chest to get to the door. "Thanks."

His hand shot out, catching your wrist. Not hard, not restraining, just... holding. "Hey..."

You stopped, a chill flew up your spine. When had he last touched you? You immediately turn around. Sick to your stomach with some shameful excitement that he may have wanted to speak with you.

"I haven't really seen you at all." His voice was quiet. Suguru looked like a very large fly on the wall, witnessing it all.

"Oh, I guess our schedules ... aren't matching up?"

"You're avoiding me, huh?" His grip slumped, and he put on that boyish grin you always craved to be directed your way, "Ever since I changed back, you won't even look at me. Are you just missing my old form?"

"No, I'm glad you're back," You shrug, "everyone was missing you."

There weren't any words exchanged for a painfully awkward time. Suguru refused to help.

"Thank you...for the shoes, by the way." You force out through the silence.

"It's nothing. I owe you much more..." Gojo stilled, looked around the lab, and then over to his friend, "Isn't Shoko here? I guess not... I figured she would be, though..."

Nobody replied until you pointed over your shoulder, "She had...just left when you stopped by..."

Satoru released his grip, nodded at Suguru, and quickly spurted out, "Did I make you uncomfortable?"

"What?" You still.

"Sorry if I did, it's just that I haven't seen you and I figured maybe I did something, and well.. you took such good care of me, it wouldn't be very nice of me to not pay you back properly."

You doubt you had ever heard so many words from Satoru directed your way, "Uhh, I don't think you owe me at all, you already got me the shoes, and it's not like you have to pretend things are different now that you're back."

You wished Suguru would leave, or better, you wished you could leave, becase Satoru is looking at you with those adorable, confused eyes.

"I'm not pretending, you know, we used to share a bed, we can be friends still, right?"

You gape like a fish, and Geto smacks a hand to his forehead. Friends? Were you ever friends?

"Satoru, you didn't do anything wrong. I think I would prefer if we could just be normal, I don't want you to force yourself because you feel guilty about something you can't control."

"I don't think I follow"

You try and grin, "You've made-" You stop, trying again, "Our relationship is pretty clear."

"It is?" He's got this cute scrunch in his eyebrows.

You finally turned to face him again. "I wasn't really worth your time before." It's embarrassing to say it so boldly to his face, especially because you know he's about to deny it.

Suguru, the slick man, takes that as his cue to depart, shaking his head. The words came out sharper than you had meant; maybe something more like, 'we're we close before?' would have sufficed.

Instead, there were months or maybe years of hidden offense spilling over. "I get it, okay? You were stuck with me because of the curse, and you probably feel embarrassed about having to stay with me, I mean, you were probably counting down the seconds until you could get back to your real life and forget about it, but-"

"Are you insane?" He stops you short.

You blinked. Satoru was staring at you like you'd just spoken a different language, his mouth actually hanging open. "What?"

"Not worth my time?" He repeated, his voice climbing. "Are you-do you actually think-" He turned around for the imaginary audience, gesturing wildly. "Oh my-are you serious right now?"

Suguru, who had apparently only been just around the corner, answered his call, "Don't ask her that! She has no idea, you're the one who's been silently pining for years."

"Suguru!" Satoru's face was turning red, his six eyes had known his friend was listening, but he didn't appreciate the commentary. None of this was going according to plan, he had practiced his confident and cool lines for moments like these, but just like every other time he was before you, the words wouldn't come.

Your brain had stopped processing. "I'm sorry, what?"

Satoru dragged a hand down his face, and when he looked at you again, his expression was almost pained. "I don't... I can't do this." He took a breath. "But you need to know that you've got it completely backwards."

"I don't understand."

"You've never...not been worth my time," he said, and the words came out rushed, clumsy. "I've never thought that. I just, I liked you since-god, I don't even know. Since you asked me for my name on your first day at school? Since you stayed up all night helping your upperclassman study, even though you were exhausted. Since you-" He gestured helplessly. "Since the beginning, okay? Since always."

You felt like the ground had disappeared beneath your feet. "But you never... you barely talked to me."

"Because!" He flung his arms around. Suguru came out from around the corner and mimicked wringing his neck with both hands.

"I couldn't! I can't even do it now!" Satoru stepped closer, and you were too stunned to back away. "Because every time I tried to talk to you like a normal person, I'd remember how much of a better person you were, and I'd just freeze, or say something stupid, or complain, because that's all I know how to do. So I stayed away because I thought that was better than being an idiot."

"You stayed away," you repeated slowly, "because you liked me?"

"Are you kidding? Of course, I liked you, who else would I like!"

"So when I thought you couldn't stand me..."

"No! I was just trying not to embarrass myself in front of you." He laughed, but it sounded a little broken. "Clearly failed at that, considering you witnessed me trying to figure out how to use a litter box for a week."

Despite everything, you felt a small laugh bubble up. His hand came up slowly, carefully, giving you time to pull away. When you didn't, his fingers brushed along your jaw. "And just like with everyone else, you took care of me, even though you thought so lowly of me."

You pulled back at that, "I never thought lowly of you..."

"If you thought for even a second that I was better than you, you did, I can't imagine anything lower than that."

"This is just...so stupid," you managed, covering your face, unable to wrap your mind around the idea of Satoru Gojo liking you.

"Yeah, well." He smiled, soft and genuine and so unlike his usual smirk that it made your heart ache. "You make me stupid."

"Satoru..."

"I'm sorry," he said seriously. "For making you think you didn't matter. For not being brave enough to tell you sooner. For-"

You grabbed his shirt and pulled him in, a particular fantasy you had been dreaming about for ages. You wrapped your arms around his waist and knocked his chest with your forehead. He made a surprised choking noise, his arms coming around you carefully, a gentle pet on your head every so often, mindful of your stitches.

When you finally pulled back, you were both looking at one another as if it were the first time. His eyes were impossibly bright, a smile playing at his lips.

He took a few deep breaths, "I promise to not be so stupid in the future."

"I seriously doubt that." Suguru's voice cut through the moment.

"Yeah, Satoru, let's not go making promises we can't keep." Shoko ran a tired hand through her hair, evidently, just around the other hallway.

"I'm serious, though, guys! I feel like a weight has come off my shoulders and I can be free!" Satoru said without fully unlatching himself from you.

"Thank god nobody is dying of emotional constipation anymore." Suguru came forward and knocked Shoko on the shoulder.

"Only took...I'm not sure, twelve years and a week as a cat." You hear Shoko's footsteaps retreat, then pause. "For the record, I'm charging a therapy fee for the last month of watching you both be idiots."

When they were both gone, and it was just the two of you. Satoru's hand found yours, not firm or loud like he typically was with his friends, but gentle, threading your fingers together.

"Thank you," he said softly. "For keeping me."

You looked at your joined hands, then up at his face.

"How could I not?" you reply.

He rolled his eyes, leaning down to kiss your hand, and when he pulled back, he was grinning like you'd just given him the world.

"Though for the record," you said, unable to help yourself, "you were a very needy companion."

His laugh was bright and genuine, the sound filling Shoko's office like sunlight.

"Yeah," he agreed, pulling you closer. "It's like...for the first time I could freely beg for your attention."

You look away, nodding, but he continued, "And you gave it to me, god, what a thrill." His eyes sparkled, "Are you gonna continue to keep me, now that I'm not as cute?"

At this point, you should've known better, but you just wanted to hear him say it, "Is that what you want?"

Satoru scoffed, reaching for your other hand, “Don’t you know I’m yours? Besides, who else is going to remind you to eat your breakfast, hmm?”

--

Sometimes you could still see his mischievous tail whipping back and forth when he teased Nanami or Suguru, his pointy ears flicking when Utahime or Shoko got mad, but the one thing that never changed was those big pupils that would spot you at a moment's notice. Only now, he was a lot less shy about asking for what he wanted, leaving to go right where he belonged.

Right into your cozy arms. There really was no better place for a lovesick pet like him.

There was nothing left for him to hide - the cat's out of the bag.

--

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