In which you’re at an amusement park on a date with Nanami and find out you get sick on rides. He would 10/10 take care of you and still make it fun.
I can't stop thinking about an au where Geto and Shoko are in their last year at your average public high school, and are those alt kids smoking in the parking lot, skipping class, and playing in a rock band out of Shoko's garage. Enter Gojo — fancy pants mcgee — who's invited to one of their shows by long time friend Shoko gets thrown into an underground, sweaty, cigarette stained and energetic world of punk rock. Spoiler alert: Gojo is entranced by Geto on bass (I mean, obviously).
Anyhow.
Here are some headcanons:
Geto: Even though he gives off a 'long hair don't hair' attitude towards school and classes, talks back, and is generally a delinquent, Geto is a natural genius and thinks deeper about issues than your average teen. He's typically irritated that no one, including the teachers, are on the same page as him, gets bored easily and thus acts out. His escape is writing music (with Shoko) and playing bass. He's from a lower middle class family and got his bass as a birthday present from Shoko after they were joking around about starting a band from way back in their junior years. He drinks a lot of coffee to stay stimulated, but also because he often doesn't have enough food at home to bring for lunch. They met in the smoke pit when Shoko was asking for a light.
Shoko: Shoko, on the other hand, comes from a well-off family, cheats and has very poor rep with the teachers. She's smart, but just couldn't be bothered with the work. Her parents has stuffed her into all sorts of extracurricular activities, from dance to softball, chess to science clubs, and has made her play all sorts of musical instruments. Music was the only thing she actually found interesting and is proficient at playing violin, piano, and clarinet. She plays the keyboard and is often vocals in her and Geto's band. She's a long time friend of Gojo. They met in violin class. She thought his was a huge asshole — and he was — but thought his attitude towards everyone was hilarious and entertaining. She originally befriended him to troll him but eventually they grew close through their love of trolling everyone around them and disrespecting their surroundings.
Gojo: Fancy pants, spoiled, rich dick Gojo attends an extremely top rated boujee private school where they pride themselves for churning out Ivy League candidates. He's so insanely talented and a genius at anything he tries it's infuriating to everyone around him. So he's not well-liked at school. His arrogant demeanour doesn't help his cause either. In turn he treats most people around him terribly, trolls the teachers, and is fairly disrespectful. He dates around because despite being a total douchebag, he's attractive and some people just like that. He keeps a close 1 or 2 friends around him, Shoko being one of them. They met at violin class.
It's said that Nanami doesn't want to get married because he doesn't want to make his wife worry about whether or not he'd make it home from a mission.
So here's an anxious pov word barf written by an anxious person.
I don't normally do this. I don't write. AND I'm still figuring out Tumblr again. But what the heck. I'm feeling anxious and need to let it out.
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It was one of those warm restless nights where a blanket was too hot but yet no blanket was still too cool. Kids were spilling out onto the street, celebrating the warm freedom of the night. Despite their youthful fanfare, it wasn't their laughing, drinking, and cigarette smoke wafting up into your third floor window the reason you were tossing and turning, kicking the sheets off and pulling them back up against your chest for comfort.
11pm. Still no text.
The missions being assigned were getting increasingly more difficult than the last. Aside from wondering what was causing this spike in curse activity, you worried about making it home each time. Even though you were strong, these curses were growing and getting smarter.
The kids were still outside, their drunken babbling getting louder and less coherent.
12am. Still no text.
To make matters worse, it was the first time you and your partner Nanami were split up and assigned separate missions to cover more ground. It wasn't that you didn't believe in his capabilities, it was just clawing away at your gut not knowing and not being there to help if anything — anything — went wrong. You always had each other's backs, not just in missions but in life as well. You cared deeply for him and simply not knowing was agonizing.
Down below a fight breaks out. Nothing serious, you think, sounds like they're just being stupid, egging one another on in a friendly face-off. You kick off your blankets again, and roll over to check your phone for the umpteenth time.
1am. Still no text. The message you sent him hours earlier was still unread.
When did it get so late? It was late. So so late. You know how much Nanami hates overtime and this was definitely well beyond over time. You both had left the academy at the same time that afternoon, sending each other off with a good luck peck on the cheek.
"Text me when you're done," you reminded him.
"Obviously."
You had watched him get in the car and the car as it drove away. Now you're anxiously watching your phone for it to light up. Waiting for a ding.
You roll onto your back and hold your phone above your face urging it to send you any sign that Nanami was okay. Cold sweat forms around your neck and in your palms and the ruckus outside wasn't helping you calm down. It was late but — to be fair — it wasn't unusual for them to be out at this hour on a Friday night. Any other night you would have easily slept through it but today... tonight...
Just as your anxiety climbs higher into your chest, your phone slips from your hands and lands squarely onto your face.
Blunt pain forms on the bridge of your nose and you let out a frustrated howl. "GOD DAMNIT." You bolt upright, clutching your face, and you betray your age by saying "God damnit kids!" No hate of course, you remind yourself, but you were excessively tired and feeling too anxious and too damn old for this shit. You just needed to blame somebody, anybody.
You scramble out of bed. Storming towards your front door, you embrace the grumpy old man inside you, preparing yourself to tell them to fuck off and go home. You unlock the bolt and brutishly heave open the door, ready to unleash hours of pent-up anxiety-fuelled frustrations, only to see Nanami in your door way, his key to your apartment in hand, looking very tired and very much surprised.
"Oh!"
"You're still up?"
You find yourself stunned, the scrambling mess in your chest quickly freezes into a lump and jumps into your throat. Tears begin to well up in your eyes.
You notice bruising and scrapes on his face and hands, but the damage looks minor and it appears as though he's already changed and cleaned himself up. Nanami reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his phone, its black screen streaked with cracks.
"The higher ups didn't mention the mission was so far out of town... It got pretty rough," he waves his broken phone, "but this thing got the most damage, thankfully." He returns both the phone and the keys to his pockets and reaches for your hands. "You must have been worried. I'm so sorry." His concerned eyes meets your own and he gives your hands a gentle squeeze.
There was no point of denying it — the hours spent tossing and turning, looking at your most recent text, praying for his safety — but your words fail you anyway. You try to blink back your tears but they escape along with a shuddering sigh of relief.
It was one of those warm restless nights where a blanket was too hot and yet no blanket was too cool, but all you wanted now was the warmth of his body pressed desperately close against your own.
You fold into his arms. You deeply breathe in the crisp scent of his fresh laundry and that mixture of bergamot and sandalwood he always wears and — with one more sigh — all the noise, the frustration, the heat, and anxiety swiftly fades away.
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