I'm going to get someone injured @captainquake42 - Tumblr Blog

Jul 6

THE REMEDY, PART 2. SOOTHE MY WOUNDS

fiance! naoya x paediatrician! fem reader x single uncle! satoru

summary: Your days had long turned into an endless grey stream of monotony, brightened only by children's smiles at the hospital. Soon, your life would be subjected to loneliness in the golden cage of the Zenin Estate as you agreed to be Naoya's wife; the weight of his love had already burdened you to the point you no longer believed there was any left.

And then you met Satoru Gojo.

Your biggest curse. And your greatest remedy.

tags: AU, medical setting, heavy angst, toxic relationships, messy feelings, emotional abuse, manipulation, gaslighting, misogyny (Naoya is a prick), reader struggles with her self-image, slow healing, falling in love, yearning. eventual smut and happy ending, i promise! we just have to get here. some specific tags will be included in the parts, if any.

word count: 14.5k

gojo's art by @/maronjapan9a. all dividers are mine.

playlist

masterlist

part 1

Satoru Gojo slowly started threading himself into the canvas of your life, and when you looked back, startled and stunned, to see the turning point — when the warmth slowly sipped into your polite, careful smiles and when the anxiety slowly loosened its knot as Gojo's laugh washed over you — you slowly realised that you couldn't name one.

Was it the boyish grin? The Union Jack lighter? The first compliment? The first shared conversation in the walls of the cafeteria? Nothing criminal, but every time your eyes met — his, impossibly blue, crinkling at the corners with mirth and something you were afraid to name — they caused the tender petals of affection in your chest to bloom.

Only if they weren't destined to wither the moment your future husband set his eyes on you.

Maybe he noticed that you returned from the hospital happier than usual. Your softened voice grated on his nerves, and your dreamy gaze only sharpened his. Honed his tongue to the way it left more and more wounds.

As if you weren't berating yourself for even thinking about another man. As if you didn't force your gaze to tear apart from Gojo at first. To keep your mouth shut. To gather your bearings and lock your heart with the key thrown away to the ocean depths. To shut Nitta's and Miwa's whispers with sharp glances. To stand your ground as the endless blue threatened to swallow you whole.

Either way, you were torn between your actual feelings and things you were supposed to feel.

That day wasn't particularly sunshine and rainbows: from a kid with an asthma attack to very vigilant parents, insisting on vaccine shots conspiracy. Your smile turned more strained with every word, and your left eye almost twitched at "how much are you paid per shot?"

And that was only the morning.

"Kao, stop squirming! What will the doctor think of you?"

The boy, a 5-year-old Kao-kun, who was supposed to have his hearing examined, fell on deaf ears to his mother's pleading words (not literally, as you hoped, standing with an otoscope beside the kid).

"I am so sorry, Doc, I don't know what's gotten into him," Kao-kun's mother, Nakata-san, offered you an apologetic, forced smile, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy towards her.

"It's completely fine, Nakata-san. Kids don't usually like these sorts of things," smiling warmly back at the lady, you briefly patted her arm in support. Nakata-san only pressed her lips into a thin line and opened her purse to fish a handkerchief to dab on her forehead.

The sudden April heatwave enveloped Japan in its suffocating embrace. Heat clung to skin in rivulets of sweat, and people fought for every sliver of shade, not to mention the usual humidity — the feeling of your blouse sticking to your back set your overstimulated brain on fire even more, but you didn't have the right to complain.

Poor Nakata-san, meanwhile, murmured in despair and sighed, shaking her head, "He's usually such a nice, smart boy. We started to teach him Hiragana a couple of weeks ago, just like in that handout you gave us, Doc. Oh, I have it, wait a minute, —"

The woman started to browse through her endless purse again, but you interrupted her softly, glancing briefly at the clock. Ten minutes were left before the next appointment, and Kao-kun seemed way more interested in the poster of the giant green cactus Sabo-san, a chair named Kosshi and…Inai Inai Baa.

The corners of your mouth twitched with a bright grin.

Of course.

"Hey, Kao-kun," drawling playfully, you waved at the poster. "Do you like Inai Inai Baa?"

The boy's voice rose to a high-pitched tone as he nodded enthusiastically, "Yes!"

You clapped happily, hoping to match Kao-kun and beamed at the kid, "You want to play Peekaboo?"

The boy practically jumped out of his seat, and Nakata-san hurried to shush him, only for you to gently stop her with a knowing look. She stopped in her tracks, blinking a couple of times; as the realisation dawned on her, the woman sent you a conspiring wink.

"Kao-kun, I am gonna look for Inai Inai Baa in your ears," as you finally had the kid's attention, he looked up and hung on your every word, "Will you help me — "

You barely finished the sentence as the boy shouted happily, his toothy grin on full display:

"Yes, yes, yes!"

The sight dispersed the gloomy clouds in your mind like the brightest sunray.

Kao-kun helped you to spot the dog, Wanwan, every time he barked into the boy's ear, and you discreetly wiped your forehead as you finished the examination and put the data into the kid's medical record.

"Doc, you're the best!" Nakata-san pressed her palm to her chest, thanking you sincerely. Kao-kun eyed the bowl of lollipops on your table as his mother kept talking about the school they were about to choose. Stiffling a warm chuckle, you nodded at the bowl.

"Help yourself, Kao-kun, don't be shy."

The boy beamed and hurriedly thanked you, urged by his mother on the way out of your office. He was already too fascinated with the sweet and colourful cartoon sticker inside, but dutifully listened to his mom. You waved back with a laugh.

"Take care!"

When you finally had two minutes for yourself, you fished a small handy fan. As it always happened in the most inconvenient times, the climate control in your office decided it certainly had enough and retired after a long period of duty. The facility manager grumbled that the equipment hadn't been modernised in a long time, glaring at you as if you were the sole reason for that decision. You highly suspected your beloved fiancé (to be precise, his family) of being in charge of it. Yet, somehow, the one on the receiving blade of occasional pointed glances and hushed whispers was usually you. No wonder: Naoya had a knack for charming everyone under his spell.

And you were just…you. Your presence, so tethered to his, didn't help the situation either. Mostly, that didn't bother you: little patients adored you, while parents paid their respects — after all, that mattered the most.

One of the nurses kindly informed you that the next appointment had been cancelled. That rare occasion had you raise your brows in a mild surprise, which later turned into a fleeting moment of joy: since it was the last appointment before the day hospital's checks, you could go there earlier and later hurry to the little cafe near the hospital. The cold kiwi lemonade had been quietly haunting your mind since the moment you stepped into your office.

"How are you feeling today, Rika-chan?"

"Better now!"

The little girl with two pigtails stilled as you checked her throat and discreetly let out a sigh of relief as you turned to her mother with good news.

"I think Rika-chan is going to be discharged soon," muttering under your breath as you flipped the papers, you couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of happy Okami-san. "Cephalexin 20 mg…yeah, that's right. I'll see you tomorrow at the final examination, Rika-chan!"

The girl eagerly nodded, hugging her Kuromi plushie, and your chuckle morphed into a warm laugh.

Walking out of room 626, you hurried to the last patient of the day. Knocking softly at the door, you couldn't help the low roaring of your pulse in your head. Your grip on the chart tightened, and with a deep breath, you stepped inside.

Gojo was engrossed in his phone, thumbs flying over the screen, and cast occasional glances at Megumi, who was quietly drawing in the corner. The black crayon wandered over the paper; judging by Megumi's brows, knitted in concentration, and the peeked out tongue, he was more than focused. Your gift, a little plushie dog, alongside a giant toad, guarded Megumi's peace like loyal knights.

Another warm sunray crept through the clouds.

Too absorbed in his own little world, the kid didn't notice you. Contrary to his uncle, whose ears immediately perked up at the sound of the doors creaking. A bright grin spread on Gojo's handsome face at the sight of your slightly hesitant form — you had to blink a couple of times just to reassure yourself that you weren't dreaming — before he sent you a conspiratorial wink with his finger on his mouth and pointed at the boy.

Pressing your lips into a thin line so as not to burst with laughter, you closed the door as quietly as you could. What was a paediatrician without a little whimsy?

"Hey, Megumi-chan," Gojo drawled in an overly obnoxious manner, earning Megumi's unimpressed look. Gojo's grin turned even brighter. "What are you drawing out there?"

Megumi's grip on the crayon tightened, and he mumbled back, finally sneaking a glance at you, "I am not finished yet."

Gojo wasn't quite satisfied with his nephew's answer and leaned over to peek at the table, only for Megumi to snatch the drawing from his uncle's nosy gaze.

"Come on, Gumibear —"

The boy's ears went pink at the humiliation that Gojo was bestowing upon him with a mere nickname, and the glare he sent his uncle was nothing but murderous. "I told you not to call me that!"

"Careful, Megs, your anger level is wa-a-ay above your daily norm, ouch!"

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, but a few chuckles left your lips nonetheless.

Gojo slumped back in his chair with a theatrical groan, resting his palm on his forehead like a damsel in distress; his biceps flexed with each movement in a white t-shirt.

Well, it was really hot.

You allowed yourself a second of gawking before eventually stepping to Megumi's side.

"Can I have a look, Megumi-kun?"

Megumi's eyes briefly flicked between you and the drawing he clutched close to his chest before he shrugged, "I still have to finish it."

Peeking at Gojo, you saw the amusement dancing in his bright blue gaze. So, it was a yes.

"Had a rough day?"

Your hands on the pulse oximeter stilled for a moment. Megumi's eyelashes fluttered with a tiny fractured breath. Gojo's casual words sent your heart stammeting against your ribs like a trapped bird; however, you forced yourself to focus and didn't tear your gaze away until you saw the result.

"Saturation is still not good."

Gojo, who hovered over you, knitted his brows in concern and opened his mouth to ask you something when Megumi's exhausted voice tugged on your heartstrings.

"You put a mask on me, right?"

The movement of your throat was sharp as you swallowed and exchanged glances with Gojo. He pressed his lips in a thin line and gave you a silent nod, urging you to continue.

"It's nothing bad, Megumi-kun." Your hand, warm and pleasant, rested on the boy's shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. A deep frown crossed over his features as Megumi murmured in a barely audible voice.

"You are always saying that."

After another worried glance shared with Gojo, you kneeled before the boy's bed and put your mask down, so he could see you better.

"I promise you it won't hurt you. Besides, your uncle and I will be with you all the time." Even turned away from Gojo, you could feel the light grin already tugging on the corner of his mouth. The boy's eyes flicked between you and Gojo, and after seconds of inner debating, his posture relaxed just a tad, and he grumbled.

"I suppose it's okay then."

Your chest suspiciously tightened as you watched Megumi's small fingers twitch in Gojo's hold. His shades were gone, offering you an unobstructed look at the blue of his eyes, simmering with concern, framed by the snow of his lashes.

Casting your gaze back down at the boy, you concentrated on the task.

"He's slowly getting better," a soft, reassuring murmur left your lips as your gaze lingered on Megumi, who dozed off, exhausted after all the procedures. Then it landed on Gojo, driven by some unknown force. His hand hovered over the boy's shoulders — strangely unsure for a man like him — and finally drifted down to tuck Megumi's blanket in clumsily.

"I hope so."

His hesitant whisper stirred something deeply buried. Before the ever-present tentativeness could consume you, your hand settled on Gojo's shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. The contact made your fingers twitch with an unexpected urge to dig them deeper into the muscled skin. The heat immediately coloured your cheeks; a fleeting thought of yanking your hand away crossed your mind, but it was too late and impolite.

Gojo stilled beneath your touch and slowly turned around. The blue of his eyes held you captive in their waves, but his small, gentle smile gave you a much-needed breath of fresh air.

Only to take it back with a casual brush of the long fingers, subtly grazing your hand. A fragile, aching in its delicateness, flower bloomed quietly between you.

Soon, Gojo's ringtone dispelled the strange air. You discreetly shook your head in a skimpy attempt to get rid of the image of the man beside you, now talking quietly to someone on the phone. His lips widened into a smile so bright and unadulterated, it transformed his face into something…angelic.

Naoya's disdainful scowl from the morning emersed in your exhausted mind, no matter how hard you tried to drown it.

Gojo shot you a sidelong glance — seemingly relentless to decipher a look of somberness on your face — on your way to the elevator.

He couldn't quite put a finger on the sudden feeling the bags under your eyes evoked in him.

Your fingers came to fiddle with your chain as you worried your bottom lip. Then your hand limply fell at the absence.

Yeah. Right.

Gojo's eyes followed your gesture, but you seemed so hollowed out, as the life had been suddenly sucked out of you, that he didn't think of anything better than to blurt out, "Wanna have a coffee?"

Eyes widening, you stilled completely. That man, Gojo, who looked like a secret the morning tentatively shared, a kiss of the rosy sunset on your skin, and a whisper of a mystical night, had asked you out?

Or were you imagining things? Was he just bored? Polite?

At first, a usual thought of waving a man who somehow had his mind hazy enough to look at you immediately crossed your mind. A hot wave of panic flooded you like a strong ocean. The need to flee somewhere, just not to stay under Gojo's piercing blue gaze, ordered a retreat already. You almost opened your mouth to offer a moot excuse, with Naoya's presence looming over you even miles away, and…

Abruptly closed it.

The sparkle of rebellious flame surged high and slowly devoured the gnawing hesitance.

Your silence gave Gojo quite an unambiguous sign. His smile wavered for a moment, taking a bitter edge, and he stepped back, raising his arms in surrender.

"Oh, I am sorry, you might think I want to hit on you or whatever, but it's just so hot —"

You cut him off with a shrug too quick and a grin too sharp. "Sure. Why not?"

Surprised, Gojo blinked before tilting his head as the boyish grin slowly made its way back on his handsome face.

"Lead the way, Doc."

For a moment, you weighed all the options on the inner scales: the hospital cafeteria was immediately off the limits — even the walls had ears there, as well as a popular cafe just around the corner. The possibility of someone grassing you up to Naoya rose tenfold.

Yet, you had something on mind.

"Meet me in ten minutes near the entrance."

A content hum and a theatrical salute were your answers.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

Mentally thanking yourself for filling out daycare forms in advance, and the raging flu that knocked Yaga out, which saved you from the lunch meetings, you set the world record for changing out of the scrubs and hurried to the elevator.

The hospital still buzzed with worried patients and exhausted doctors. You craned your neck to see a familiar spark of frosty hair outside, and your pulse roared in your head at the sight of the tall man, leaning on the wall with a casual air of confidence.

Smoothing down your sundress — for some unknown reason — you hurried out.

"Hi!"

Gojo was looking somewhere past the crowd, a melancholic smile playing on his lips, and your words made him abruptly turn to you with a messy white fringe falling over his forehead. His smile dipped into something warm as he took you in.

"You're not in scrubs, it's the first!" An airy chuckle left Gojo as you led the way to the small cafe, nestled between towers of the enormous business centre, and a flower shop. To your surprise, Gojo immediately fell into step with you; Naoya never bothered to wait for you. You had always been expected to catch up to him, no matter what. "Nice dress."

Warm spring air caressed you both with delicate touches. The pink sundress you wore — Naoya raised his brow in the morning and mused whether you were dressed for work or a playground — licked the soft skin of your thighs with every step. Gojo sincerely tried not to gawk at the legs of his nephew's doctor (wait, was it a breach of ethics? He sincerely hoped no), but it became increasingly difficult.

Luckily, you stopped near the small, cosy coffee shop just before his feigned nonchalance would've morphed into something more scorching.

"Here we are!"

The scents of cinnamon and peppermint immediately hit his senses, mixed with the drumming sounds of an espresso machine and the faint hum of the climate control. The sudden temperature difference caused you to blow a lone strand of hair that escaped your ponytail off your face, and a whiff of your fresh perfume (albeit with a strong sense of antiseptic clinging to you like a second skin — once a doctor, always a doctor) sent his pulse drumming quietly.

Just when Gojo wondered if you felt at least something too, your shoulder lightly brushed against his. He didn't know what to do, because even the touch like that was enough for something to stir in his chest. So he just stilled, and let his gaze unabashedly drift over the delicate line of your neck as you studied something through the display.

Perfect.

"Recommendations are accepted," clearing his throat, Gojo waved at the arrays of pastries and rubbed the back of his neck. "Damn. Might as well order everything."

The look of pure confusion and something suspiciously similar to awe on his face earned a quiet laugh from you.

"Uhm, I usually like those chocolate-filled croissants," you murmured, hesitantly pointing at the pastry that looked like it had just descended from the famous French boulangeries. "Sometimes I take a tiramisu or a panacotta. Their strawberry-filled mochis are absolutely to die for!"

Beside you, Gojo went completely rigid. You felt the usual fear that you might've fucked something up — nothing new, but something inside you wished Gojo would be kind enough to let it slide — but then he turned around.

"I love mochis!" He breathed out not even with enthusiasm — a playful reverence coloured his tone. His eyes sparkled even brighter.

You briefly discussed other desserts displayed, and you complimented the ones shaped like fruits ("Actually, very close to Cédric Grolet's!"), before you attempted to grab your wallet from the purse and… met a disappointed nothingness. You sulked a bit and stepped back in the line before the barista would glare daggers at you, giving Gojo an apologetic shrug.

"I forgot my wallet, so this time I am just gonna —" You glanced around the cafe. "Wander around, I guess."

Gojo blinked and shook his head with an airy chuckle, pulling his wallet out, "You're so funny."

Your smile briefly faltered. Nevertheless, you forced it to stay plastered.

"I know, yeah."

A light frown flickered across Gojo's face, but before he could even form a question, the barista, a young, lively girl, greeted him with a joyous chirp.

"Good afternoon, what can I get you today?"

Flashing a charming grin, Gojo slightly leaned over and pointed at the pastry with a low purr, "Hello. I would like to have a caramel latte and that whole set of fruit desserts. A box of strawberry mochi and two — no, wait, three chocolate croissants for takeaway."

"Noted," the girl nodded as the light pink tinged her cheeks at the sight of Gojo. Well, no wonder. "Anything else?"

"Make the latte really sweet. And whatever this lady wants, of course." With that, Gojo finally leaned back and waved at the pastries as if he had baked them all by himself, "My treat, Doc."

Completely stunned, you just huffed an unsure laugh, "No, Gojo, it's okay, I am just —"

"Please," Gojo's voice lost all the cockiness just for a second, offering you a peek of the man beneath the facade. "Do me a favour. You showed me this place, after all."

A strange kind of fog clogged your mind as you watched Gojo casually take out his black card. You murmured something about a kiwi lemonade.

He ended up buying another yearly supply of sweets for you as well.

Gojo flipped his wallet, and a photo tucked inside — him hugging a couple of kids — immediately caught your attention. Judging by a grumpy scowl on one of the children's faces, you successfully deduced the boy to be Megumi. And the girl with a shy grin, showing a peace sign, should've been his sister, Tsumiki.

A flicker of warmth sparkled in your chest as your lips twitched in a smile.

Shifting your gaze just a tad, you noticed Gojo's business card peeking out from the photo. Your best attempt at squinting at it wasn't successful, but the sight of his surname in a bold business font awoke something in your mind.

You certainly heard it. Maybe Naoya once happened to drop it during dinner? Or some hushed pieces of gossip finally reached you at the numerous Zenins' gatherings?

The image of Naoya stubbornly kept surfacing in your mind, no matter how hard you tried to bury it under the pretence of nonchalance towards a certain white-haired man. The mere thought of your future husband finding out about your little detour sent a fresh wave of fear through you.

God. What the hell were you doing?!

Swallowing, you briefly mused about fleeing, but the force that seemed to be stronger than the gravity itself — attraction, blending with recklessness — chained you to the chair right in front of Gojo.

Damn him. You felt like a butterfly pinned to a board by the sharpness of his gaze.

"What's bothering you?"

Forcefully blinking yourself back into reality, you sent Gojo a confused, apologetic smile, "Nothing much."

"Come on, Doc," he prompted, resting his chin on the palm. Almost half of the caramel latte in front of him was gone, as well as a peach-shaped dessert. Yours still rested untouched on the plate. "You've been hypnotising that poor peach for a solid five minutes."

You nervously twirled a straw between your fingers. Shit. You didn't even notice it. And with Gojo staring at you, his brow lazily arched, you decided to opt for a half-truth.

"Your surname. Where could I hear it?"

Gojo's grin withered a little before taking a strained edge. Just a fleeting second for everyone else, but if sharing a roof with Naoya had taught you anything, it was attunement to other people's senses. So, you just waved your hands in surrender.

"I didn't mean to intrude, sorry. Forget it."

The sincerity of your gaze softened the sudden harshness of Gojo's features and the rigidness in his shoulders. You indeed were just… curious.

He shook his head with a light chuckle, "No worries. My family is quite well-known. Limitless, maybe you heard it?"

Eyed widening, you almost spluttered the poor kiwi lemonade.

"Limitless? You mean that big company in advanced robotics and technology?"

Well, that surely explained why he spent so much time with Megumi at the hospital. Nepo babies weren't used to working a lot, judging by Naoya.

Gojo gave you a lazy nod and took a bite of another pastry, looking somewhere past you at the bustling Tokyo streets, and dropped off-handedly.

"Yeah. But I am not a big fan of boring meetings, reports and presentations."

Something in his tone suggested that it wasn't a single reason.

You just prompted gently, "What are you doing then?"

Gojo's smile turned relaxed.

"I am a restaurant owner."

Stunned, you paused with a spoon halfway through, "What? That's so cool!"

Laughing warmly, he confirmed again, "Yep. Three in Tokyo, one in Kyoto, and…," he leaned over with a suspicious look and whispered loudly, sending you a wink, "planning to open in Yokohama as well. But that's a secret just for you."

A light chuckle left you as your face heated up from the sudden proximity. You quickly cast your gaze down on the plate, cutting through a delicious treat.

"So, where are they? Maybe we, sorry, I —," you corrected yourself immediately, earning a slow, curious tilt of Gojo's head, "visited them?"

He only dropped one name, but the mere mention of that restaurant had you staring at him in shock, eyes sparkling with excitement. A dollop of soft cream was smudged over your chin, but in your contagious joy, you never really noticed. The blue of Gojo's gaze softened into a warm breeze, embracing you in a tender gale.

"Really? Is that one in Ginza, a rooftop bar? God, I've been dying to visit it! That grilled red squid with herbs? Damn," gesturing animatedly, you quickly explained at Gojo's curious glance, "I had a bit at a family gathering. And let me tell you," now it was your turn to lean in with a conspirational whisper, "it was the best thing in that evening."

Despite Gojo's attempts to compose himself, his grin widened even more as he asked, "So, why haven't you visited it yet? I mean, you look pretty happy talking about it."

Your own smile slowly faded at Gojo's ask, and the unsure curl of your shoulder that followed immediately didn't go unnoticed.

Naoya's dismissive words sparkled brightly in your mind again, and you waved them as best as you could. Hugging the empty cup with your lemonade, you attempted to joke weakly, "Didn't have enough time. You know, hospital, shifts, meetings."

Gojo's lazy drumming slowed a little before coming to a complete halt. A warm feeling cracked in his chest at the memory of you attending Megumi.

"Ah, of course. Sorry for that. You are the busiest that I will ever be."

You weren't used to it. To someone listening to you with a genuine expression. To someone casually complimenting you. To someone including you in a conversation. As if you were worthy of someone's attention.

And that someone being Gojo caused a warm sun to rise in your hollowed soul.

So you resorted to the only thing familiar to you.

"Ah, it's nothing. I am just a paediatrician," offering a usual downplayed explanation, you didn't even notice the muscle in Gojo's jaw jump. Why were you doing it? "I mean, there are surgeons and — "

"You are joking, right? You are literally a doctor."

Gojo's incredulous tone caught you off guard. Shoulders dropping, your smile curled into a nervous, unsure scowl, while he went on.

"You're doing such a great job. I mean, all of that stuff, checking saturation, temperature, carrying all these charts, and, on top of that, working with kids! This is so cool."

A weird, scorching feeling coloured your cheeks. What was actually the last time you heard someone talking about you like that? All sincere, kind, and…warm?

The lump in your throat started to feel suspicious, and you took a shuddering breath in an attempt to accept Gojo's words with no usual overthinking, "I guess so. Kids are really cool."

Popping a spoonful of panna cotta in his mouth, Gojo hummed in acknowledgement.

"You're cooler. Do you like working with kids?"

For the second time, you were sharing a conversation, your smile widened, tone dipping into an affectionate tenderness, "Of course! I like seeing them smile as they finally get better. I love helping them to navigate through the world, especially knowing I can do that and make a difference! I want to make the start of their life easy and smooth. The rest of it may be shitty, but the childhood…"

Quiet steel crept into your voice, honing your tone.

"…the childhood is sacred."

Your eyes suddenly bore remembrance to black holes — swallowing Gojo in vast expanses of them. He stared, unblinking, and recalled that version of you on the lone evening. Smoking, laughing. Teasing.

Where was the line between that version of you and the shy doctor sitting in front of him, shrinking, lessening herself to fit some image Gojo hadn't deciphered yet? Who were you?

The truth might've hid amongst smiles, sincere, and too stretched to be genuine; glances, soft, and too pointed to offer truth; gestures, secretive, and too deep-seated to bear some meaning.

Gojo recalled your laugh as you talked about the damned grilled red squid. Maybe that version of you, that crept in the cracks of all the conversations you shared, was the real one?

He didn't know yet. But hell, he was determined to solve the mystery that his nephew's doctor was. With those sweet smiles. That sharp tongue. And that contagious laugh.

"Gojo? Are you listening?"

Okay. Perhaps he went into recalling a little bit too much.

He let his gaze wander over your features freely. "Yeah. You mentioned that kids usually don't like their ears checked. But honestly, what kid likes hospitals?"

Your shoulders shook with mirth as you shot him a quick, shy grin. Gojo felt his lips curling into a warm smile as well.

"Do you like working at that hospital?"

Twirling a straw, you stilled at his question. Then a deliberately calm shrug came as you glanced through the window.

"I like working with kids."

"That's not what I asked." Despite the warmth in his tone, you managed to notice an unusual heaviness lurking behind it. Nothing in Gojo, from the curious tilt of his head to the calmness in his blue gaze, revealed his true intentions.

Still. An assessing gleam that flashed in Gojo's eyes told you much more than he probably thought.

His fingers drummed against the table with barely concealed impatience. You mirrored his tilt and drawled hesitantly, "Could've been better, honestly. The department's director is constantly on our ears about financing and modernising the equipment. But, you know. Paediatrics isn't on the priority list."

Gojo hummed — a low, throaty sound that had you casting your gaze immediately down on your plate — and leaned in. His brows furrowed in frustration.

"Really?"

You mumbled something unintelligible as your shoulders curled inwards.

"But that doesn't make any sense," a murmur full of disbelief left him soon, addressing no one in particular, but rather musing aloud. "You're doing such an important thing, taking care of kids. I saw you running around like a Duracel rabbit, and this constant chaos. Yet you're doing such a great job! Especially with Megs. He likes you, you know? And he doesn't like doctors."

You leaned a bit with your chin cradled in your palm, looking out of the windows: some lady hurried to the cafe, barely catching up to her doggie, an adorable Pomeranian. The doorbell soon announced their entrance, followed by a cheerful bark.

"No wonder. He has a long story with them. I am afraid he just has to like me because I am a lady with masks and all that stuff."

"I am serious, Doc. Believe me," a small laugh followed his grin — you would've been damned if you didn't spot bitterness buried in it.

"I know when Megs feels…," Gojo pondered for a moment, looking for the right word. "Acceptable towards someone."

Now it was your turn to smile.

"He's not an easy kid," you murmured to Gojo after some time as you both watched the lady attending to her adorable, lively puppy. Gojo's grin widened for a second before settling back with heaviness too unfitting for the mask he usually wore.

"You can say so. They both went through…a lot."

You could only press your lips in sympathy. No matter how many tragedies you witnessed, each of them had left scars on you. Especially when you found out the reason Gojo adopted Megumi and Tsumiki.

Gojo didn't like to talk about it, but you gathered enough from the bits of conversations, information from Megumi's chart and heavy pauses between the words. Didn't press: one time, you saw Gojo examining the handout on how to help a kid process the grief, and noticed Gojo's gaze hardening into an iceberg.

So, you kept all assumptions safely catalogued in your head.

A heavy silence settled between you, interrupted only by excited yips of the Pomeranian, distant melodies of some indie song coming from the speakers, and the whirring of the cash register.

Hand drifting mindlessly to scratch an old scar, your fingers twitched with an indescribable urge to soothe Gojo's wounds as well. In the end, he lost his sister, too. And as shocked as he might've been, he had two distraught kids to bring up.

Did he have a chance to mourn her at all? Or just poured himself into the life that suddenly felt too enormous to fit into?

Judging by the distant waves of his gaze and the melancholy flickering over his face, too beautiful for all the sorrows, he didn't.

As much as you wanted to console him, to tell him that you hid scars like that as well, you couldn't bring yourself to do this. The lock on your heart was still impenetrable.

A bitter realisation, melting into a sour resentment that you didn't remember the last time you felt like that towards your fiancé, had your chest constricted with the weight of ache.

Instead, you tried not to dwell on it. Lifting your hand, your slightly trembling fingers grazed Gojo's hand across the table. A thick whisper followed.

"I am sorry."

Gojo's head immediately snapped up at the sound of your soft words. His eyes met yours in a moment of shared grief and quiet understanding — something he hadn't allowed himself to feel for a long time.

A silent yearning to be seen hid in the desperate twitch of his fingers as they squeezed your palm in response.

He quickly masked that momentary weakness behind a frantic clearing of throat and a casual, too casual ask.

"You lost your chain?"

Frowning a bit, you shifted your gaze to the dip of your cleavage; a sudden, shaking breath followed as you gently pulled your hand back to touch the bare skin.

Naoya's words, full of malice and icy wrath, flashed behind your closed eyelids just as if he had been throwing them at you now. He was seething with ire that morning.

You just sat there: a silent witness to irritation consuming Naoya more and more. Mentally went through every place you visited, every corner rounded, and every room attended. Still, it had no sense at all.

The ring was gone.

"Yeah."

"It must've been important."

You gritted your teeth until the muscles in your jaws twitched. Slowly, you lifted your gaze and couldn't believe the next words that left your lips, "It's okay. Something that was meant to be mine would make its way back, right?"

Gojo's eyes widened a bit at the sudden declaration. A boyish grin curled on his lips as he just shrugged in response, "I guess so."

Just in time. An alarm on your phone not so kindly informed you that your lunch was over. Oh, how you wished that it could last a small eternity longer.

Did Gojo feel that as well?

Watching his tall figure retreat to a shop nearby, you thought about the warm sea that spilt in his irises, when you reminded him that you would meet again tomorrow.

And then, as the sudden gust of wind threw your hair back into your face, you realised when you heard Gojo's surname. The sound of it had become a frequent guest of all the Zenins' outraged discussions.

But…

What did that mean to you?

ੈ✩‧₊˚

"Darling?"

Your voice sounded hesitant in the car on the way to your parents' house.

Tearing his gaze from the streets of the Denenchofu neighbourhood, adorned with lush greenery, and the rows of houses, draped in elegance and serenity, Naoya quirked his brow at you in a silent question.

With a hasty breath, you twiddled with your bag. The damn binder kept evading you like on a cue. A quiet curse left your lips as you felt Naoya's patience wearing thinner and thinner with each flimsy attempt of yours. You heard the irritated click of his tongue just as you fished the folder. Handed it to your fiancé and watched boredom on his face morphing into vague surprise and… mild interest.

"What is it?"

"It's my — uhm, you know, it's something I am doodling while not busy and —"

Nayoa interrupted you with a sharp glance, "Quit babbling."

"Right. Sorry," forcing an apologetic grin, you folded your hands on your lap. "It's my sort of portfolio. Best of my works. I just — would like to know your opinion about that."

"And why do you want me to do this?"

"One of my patients' parents is an art dealer. He noticed some pictures in my office, and we exchanged a couple of words." Naoya's eyes narrowed at your revelation; you quickly corrected yourself, "That's it, I swear!"

"Quicker," he cut you off with a wave as if you were stealing minutes of his precious time.

Your gaze briefly flicked between your hands and the binder in his hands.

There it was. Something shaping as an opportunity to share with the rest of the world what your soul ached for and your eyes saw.

With a sharp exhale, you concluded, "Anyway, his gallery is searching for some new artists for the opening of a new exhibition. I thought — I thought I might give it a try." Your voice cracked at the last words.

A low, almost indifferent hum was all you got in response.

Breath bated, you intently watched Naoya slowly opening the folder and going through the pictures with deliberate scrupulousness. Head tilted, his gaze wandered over each line and stroke. You examined every minuscule twitch in his expression just to notice the fleeting movement of his eyebrows. Something resembling bewilderment flicked across his face.

A flash of excitement faintly sparkled within you.

Only for Naoya's bewilderment contorting into disbelief, masked by cold indifference.

"You drew it?"

A glance at his face didn't stir anything suspicious in you, so you slowly nodded, lips curling into a nervous smile.

His gaze darted to your makeshift portfolio once again. And then a smirk — a quick twitch of his lips — followed. As cruel as his love for you was.

"Don't you have something more important to do than simply wasting your time?"

The splendour of excitement faded within you into a dim flare. Your smile wavered as you breathed out, "I don't under— understand."

Your distress only fed Nayoa's ego even more. He carelessly tossed the portfolio back on your lap and drawled in mock sympathy, leaning closer.

"Aw, my poor dove. You are not born yesterday, aren't you? Still so innocent and full of naive dreams. You should've known better already."

Your grip on the poor binder tightened. The wrinkled, beaming face of your little patient caught your attention; but despite the usual reluctant acceptance of his words, you felt another match put to a growing flame inside.

Raising your chin a little, you noticed with a grim satisfaction that Naoya was slightly taken aback.

"Should know better what exactly?"

His smirk sharpened into a ruthless blade.

"That the world doesn't care about the wishes of innocent little doves like you, my darling." For all your desperate attempts to stand your ground, your heart sank to your stomach. Disappointment and your own failure buzzed in your tired mind, bearing Naoya's taunting voice.

"You think that guy really wanted these drawings of yours? Oh, darling, please. He probably was just polite. After all, you are the one who can write a slightly wrong prescription for his kid out of spite and —"

Cheeks flaring at the entendre in his voice, you blinked in shock, "What? I would never in my life do that!"

Naoya peacefully hold his hands out.

"Just saying, dove. I only want the best for you." Naoya's hand came to pinch your chin as he let his gaze roam over your face. Then a fake concern flashed on his face — you lifted a heavy gaze on your fiancé. "Saving you from an inevitable disappointment. No need to worry that pretty little head of yours about anything."

And then his tone deceived you into pretending sweetness, "You said you were bored?"

You answered it with an unblinking stare, which Naoya interpreted in his own way. As usual.

"Maybe it's high time for you to step into the wedding preparations. All I hear is endless chirping about napkins and lilies and the size of your obi sash. Why don't you join it? And while musing, maybe at least try to look for your engagement ring."

With that derisive scowl, your future husband leaned over to order something for your driver. And like that, the conversation ended.

Just like your pitiful attempts to become something that you weren't. A sandcastle that you carefully built crumbled in your hands, putting all your dillusions to an end.

Naive, little dove.

That was who you were, right?

Ache travelled down your cheeks in briny tears. They hit the pieces of your heart in lines and sketches, smudging them with sadness.

As the car finally stopped in front of a big house, screaming about quiet luxury, you quickly wiped all the signs of your life quietly falling apart. And when you stepped out of the car with your hand resting leisurely in the crook of Naoya's elbow, your smile only painted the image of a happy fiancée and a nice daughter.

The portfolio in the depths of your bag told another story.

For all the heavy air and weight of disappointment following your every step like an ominous shadow, you still preferred home walls to the bars of the Zenins' cage.

At least, you were in your territory.

Naoya had never been particularly interested in stepping into that place — perhaps he regarded it as settling to your level — but much to your surprise, he always accompanied you.

Deep down, you were well aware of the true reason; it was neither his affection nor understanding. Oh, no. Quite the opposite.

Your home greeted you with polite indifference.

If it had a face, you were sure it would wear the same expressionless look you often witnessed on your parents. A deep-buried bitterness surged inside at the sight of framed photos, depicting your family. The main guest was always their most beloved child — their business, its numerous triumphs and accomplishments. Its presence had always gnawed on you at the dinner table and hovered over, akin to a skilful executioner, with the axe of their expectations behind the back.

It was a competition you could never win.

As wounding as that realisation was, you swallowed it and every sharp remark to come.

After all, those crumbs were better than facing the silence.

Your mother joyously trilled something to Naoya, who listened to her with a mild interest. You were well aware that was the closest to politeness he was able to muster. As a lot of men tended to be, your future husband had never been keen on participating in "women's useless prattle".

But not as your father studied him with a scrutiny too unfitting for someone so blazenly indifferent.

At least, that was what you believed him to be.

Because lately, every time you stole a glance at your father as he talked to Naoya, you couldn't help but notice a mocking sparkle in his eyes. As if Naoya entertained him by the mere fact of his existence. You silently wondered if he was able to sense it, because your fiancé's attempts to earn his future father-in-law's approval were met with a quick grin and a curt nod more and more.

Of course, it wounded Naoya's pride and ego. Everyone had to be enamoured with your fiancé; a few tailored compliments and seemingly soft glances were usually enough. Naoya never bothered himself trying too much, though, just because he initially treated people like someone to use and discard later.

The only exception was you at the start of your relationships. He woven himself into your life with late-night strolls, dinners at the expensive restaurants, attentive gestures, and charming smiles. Until he made sure you were on the hook of his affection and in a constant state of craving more. Playing with you, testing the limits of your obedience and his own vanity, gave him a cruel sense of satisfaction.

Either way, some flattery and asking for business advice didn't fascinate your father into actually accepting Naoya. Sometimes your fiancé's disappointment and anger burst into spiteful remarks directed at you, although they quickly morphed into distant rambles as he understood how pathetic he might've looked. Trying to earn respect from the man who was supposed to give it to him on a silver platter.

If there was one thing you were certain about Naoya, that was his absolute despise to being looked down on.

You didn't know what game your father was playing — it might be just another mind game or whatever it was called in terms of business — but you enjoyed it inwardly nonetheless.

The clink of silvery cutlery followed soon after the usual exchanges among the whispers of pristine tablecloth and rivers of elite alcohol. Nayoa's shoulder brushed against yours every time he reached for whiskey. The gradual rise of his pitch matched the growing annoyance within you. You politely waved the maid every time she walked to your side with a glass.

"Ah, darling," your mother's cheeks were already painted red from numerous portions of Roku gin. Otherwise, she wouldn't be as kind as now. "Why don't you try this Roku gin? Torii-sama sent us the premium Sakura Bloom Edition, might as well try one!"

Your mother paused to pop a cherry in her mouth. Then her eyes comically widened as she shared a few curious glances with your aunties, earning tipsy giggles. Naoya's jaw tightened. "Your fiancé might not like your drinking! Silly me."

Your plastered smile twitched for a moment before you let a fake saccharine chuckle and nodded wordlessly. You knew better after the last gathering in the Zenins' estate.

Unknown to you, not only did Naoya watch you like a master, seeing his doll take the stage for the first time, but so did your father. His calm expression wavered for a moment before a usual mask slotted back into place.

"Darling." All the voices quietened as your father spoke up. Your grip on the fork tightened as you braced yourself and slowly dragged your eyes to meet his gaze, spine involuntarily straightening under its weight.

"Father?"

"Tell us about your…work," the last word left your father rather hesitantly as he absent-mindedly twirled a lavish whiskey glass between his fingers. Saying that surprised you would be an understatement: your work, the path you chose, instead of becoming another cog in their enormous corporate machine, had long been a touchy subject in your family. Your becoming a doctor was acceptable. But a paediatrician? It evoked a couple of arguments, but that was the most you could have ever received. From that moment, your profession hid between the pauses in conversations and was swept under the rug like a useless mention.

The voices around the table came to a complete halt, and even the lone clink of your cousin's spoon against the plate sounded shocked.

Trying to ignore the bewildered glances and especially the pointed glare of your fiancé at the lack of attention to his superb persona, you smiled corteously, "Thank you for asking, father. Everything is going nicely, and the kids are as healthy as they can be. Well, you know them. You don't keep an eye on them, and the next thing you do is blow on their scraped knees."

The table remained ominously silent after your attempted little joke. You cleared your throat and carried on, feeling Naoya piercing daggers into you.

"And, uhm, our department's well-financed, surprisingly! I suppose it's Naoya's achievement. He's on the board of the shareholders, if someone doesn't know," you hastily added. The paediatrics department was buzzing with a new juicy piece of gossip, exchanging knowing looks and conspirational whispers. Just like that, your fiancé once again bathed in the glory and adoration.

Meanwhile, you weren't even completely sure he actually showed up to those meetings.

Naoya straightened a little in his seat, sending a sleazy smirk to one of your distant relatives. Her cheeks went red immediately as she cast her gaze down on the plate.

"Yeah, dove is right." Naoya's speech had long already been slurred from the alcohol, straining his breath. Your jaw twitched with effort not to grimace as it fanned over your cheek. "No wonder they had such a big problem with money. I mean, they are looking after kids. Not even real doctors, if you catch my drift."

You were so shocked and astounded that you couldn't utter a single word.

"What?" Naoya shrugged indifferently as his gaze swept across the table to notice that some people were stunned as well. He quirked a brow at you. "You said it yourself, honey. That you felt so stupid talking to surgeons sometimes."

The humiliation snaked immediately in your chest and sank its teeth into your heart, until you bled quietly on the pristine white in front of you. The silver of the fine clutter caught light, showing you a reflection of smirking Naoya, even more distorted. Your grip on it tightened, but you still played your role, sending your father a jarred grin.

However, he looked past you. His brows knitted together in confusion and something suspiciously looking like seething anger. Shivers ran down your spine as your father finally muttered.

"And who do you consider a real doctor, Naoya?"

Naoya's smirk slowly wavered before vanishing completely; his cheeks went from painfully pale to slightly pink in a span of seconds, and for a death cup like him, it equated to a crimson bloom.

Clearing his throat, your future husband threw pointed glances at you.

You remained indifferent to his silent pleas.

The sight of your fiancé, trying to make his way out of a frying pan, brought a strange kind of contentment. You hid your smirk behind the glass.

He parted his lips to answer, only to be interrupted by the maid. She bowed in an apology, saying someone was calling you,

"That must be some parent. Excuse me," you quickly stood up and hurried to another room. Ah. You wished you could see Naoya humiliating himself in front of your family a bit longer. However, you still managed to mouth "thank you" to your father, who answered you with a quick nod.

Parents' calling you all the time wasn't anything sort of an usual, but seeing Gojo appearing on your screen sent your heart stammering against your ribs. Was something wrong with Megumi? Did he feel bad again? You were just about to discharge him and —

Before the wave of overthinking consumed you, you accepted the call, thumb hesitating over the button for a few seconds longer than needed.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Doc. I am so sorry to interrupt you, really. You must be busy," Gojo chuckled nervously. You noticed with a frown that his low voice had lost its usual smoothness: he sounded genuinely… worried. You had to cut off his words before they would turn into rambling.

"Don't worry. What happened? Is Megumi alright?"

"Megs is fine, it's —," a loud bark interrupted your conversation, earning a distressed groan from Gojo. "Shiro, for the love of God! Stop that!"

The dog's barks — as you presumed, Shiro's — grew even louder, and in a couple of seconds, playful yips followed as well.

"Kuro, no, I can't play with you right now!"

As much as you would've enjoyed that chaos in every other situation, your voice took on an urgent edge, calling for Gojo's attention back.

"Gojo, I need you to focus. What's wrong?"

The sounds of the crisis on the other side of the call quietened a little, and you could finally feel Gojo's voice, coming in a nervous breath, "It's Tsumiki."

"Okay. Is she nauseous? Has a temperature? Diarrhoea? Pale, blotchy skin?"

"She threw up a couple of times. We've been at the new place near their school, and then went to an amusement park. Yeah, wrong move, I know. No diarrhoea, no. A little bit pale, though." Gojo huffed nervously. You briefly imagined him carding fingers through his hair — you picked that habit of his during Megumi's admission.

Shaking your head, you interrupted Gojo again.

"What did she eat? Did you give her some meds?"

"She had a poke bowl with tuna. Pepsi. Sugar-free, if that's important. Cotton candy. I think it's cotton candy. It should be cotton candy, 'cause we all had those damn poke bowls. Honestly, it was too sweet, even for me."

Gojo's voice turned too distant all of a sudden. You figured he was checking on Tsumiki, given the worried edge in his tone. "We went home, and I gave her Pedialyte."

"Oh, that's great. You did right, actually. She should drink a lot and have plenty of rest."

"Dunno, Doc. She's not looking very good, and I —" A deep, sharp exhale that followed twisted something in your heart.

Swallowing nervously, you tightened your grip on the phone. "I'll check on her. Just send your address. I'll be there as soon as possible."

Gojo kept silent for some time, until you heard his quiet, strangely hesitant voice. "You sure? I don't want to interrupt whatever you might have, it's a Friday evening, after all. I can call an ambulance every time."

Already putting on your light coat, you gently murmured, "No, it's okay. Don't worry about it."

"I'll send my assistant after you."

You were already familiar with Gojo's assistant, a driver, and a planner — Ijichi. The poor guy looked perpetually stressed; you genuinely didn't want to cause him even more trouble.

"I'll get a taxi."

"But —"

"By the time he gets to me, I could've already been at yours."

Gojo reluctantly agreed, not capable of fighting your logic, and dropped his address. Your brows raised in a slight surprise.

With a quiet hum, you finally called a taxi, already grimacing at Naoya's possible reaction, as you hastily texted him an apology. His face, contorted in fury, especially after a confrontation with your father, sent shivers down your spine. A thought of backing down briefly crossed your mind, but you quickly shook it away. Not only because you were always keen on keeping your promises and the poor girl involved, but…

Watching the streets of Seijo pass you in quiet green parks, tennis courts, university campuses and elite buildings, you finally admitted to yourself.

That you longed to see Gojo.

His house met you with a daunting gateway and a robotic voice, calmly telling you to proceed further. A quick, examining look around the beautiful, well-tended yard made you wonder how many people worked there, but the sight of water guns scattered over the grass, as well as the picnic blanket on the grass, gave you a much better understanding of the family living there.

After hesitating a couple of seconds, you knocked.

You fully expected Gojo to greet you right that second. Instead, you heard a couple of barks, some intelligible mumbling, and the sound of something being knocked over, until the door finally opened, revealing Gojo and a white Labrador puppy, enthusiastically chewing on the man's trouser leg.

Hardly had you opened your mouth, when another puppy — that time a black one, albeit also a Labrador — jumped on you with a joyous yip. The puppy wiggled its tail with such speed that you sincerely worried about the poor doggie launching itself into space.

A joyful chuckle left you as you petted the puppy, cooing at him, "Hello to you, too!"

Gojo finally managed to get the white one off his leg and craddled it against his chest with a loud sigh. A couple of white strands were plastered to his forehead, and he quickly wiped it with his forearm.

"Hello, Doc. Kuro, come here. Don't jump on ladies like that," he mock scolded the black one, Kuro, and flashed you a tired grin. Kuro trotted back to Gojo. "We're gonna talk about it later, I swear. With you as well, right, little guy?" Gojo murmured to the white puppy, scratching him behind the ears and nodded towards you. "Meet Shiro!"

You beamed back in response and quickly looked around. "Where's Tsumiki?"

Gojo's expression changed in an instant, a frown crossing over his handsome face. "She's upstairs. You can use the bathroom there. Wait a minute, okay?"

Nodding nervously, you found your seat near the cream sofa. A white, fluffy carpet easily swallowed the sound of your footsteps. You sank into the comfort of the armchair nearby and let your gaze drift over the dog toys on the carpet, neatly folded colouring pages on the coffee table, a half-opened pack of coloured crayons, some book about dog breeds, and… wait, was it a pastry book? Nonetheless, Cédric Grolet's? Squinting, you only got convinced more about it: the sight of familiar lemons immediately caught your eye.

Nothing strange. He was a restaurant owner, after all. Broadening a worldview was useful for everyone.

Unless…

He picked it up after you mentioned it at the cafe.

Weird warmth blossomed in your chest, spreading through your veins like sunshine, mellow and bright.

Until a sudden thought of Naoya burnt you.

"Megs, why don't you have the puppies and play with them at the yard? I'll go check on Tsumiki." Gojo's loud voice startled you out of your hazy mind. Blinking, you returned to reality and watched the grumpy kid dragging his feet to Gojo. "Oh, and say hi to Doctor-sensei. She'll look at her too."

His words had Megumi stop mid-rubbing his eyes and stare at you with mild disbelief. Waving at him, you forced a smile. You couldn't let yourself dwell on your future husband and bathe in your misery in front of a kid.

"Hi, Megumi-kun! You feeling better?"

The boy blinked as well and shrugged in response. "I guess."

As driven by the force of gravity, your eyes immediately drifted to Gojo to find him already staring at you with a curious expression. Warmth curled on his lips, but his eyes remained sharp and focused. Your cheeks heated up.

Stuffy. It was stuffy.

One of the puppies barked.

Megumi briefly glanced at the dog, and for the first time, you saw a sincere smile spreading on his face. Then, he dragged his eyes back to you with a pensive, hesitant expression and asked quietly.

"Will Tsumiki be alright?"

Your chest tightened with emotions as you kneeled before the kid. He watched you carefully, but didn't speak up.

"She is alright, from what your uncle told me. Don't worry. He takes care of her." Letting yourself look at Gojo again, you noticed something indescribable flicker over his features before he smiled back, albeit strained. A weird feeling stirred within as you added, "Both of you, actually."

Something twitched behind the stone mask that Megumi's face was. A light pink coloured his cheeks, and he dropped his gaze.

"Alrighty, Megs," Gojo held the door open, and Kuro already jumped happily outside, followed by Shiro, wiggling his tail. "But not too long! You gotta be in bed till ten, and we are going to brush teeth together this time. You're not going to fool me anymore, little punk."

Megumi rolled his eyes, but the sparkle of mischief in them was a dead giveaway. "More like you are not going to fool me like the last time you ditched the irrigator —"

Gojo swiftly cut Megumi off, "Buddy, don't expose all our bonding moments, okay?"

You watched the puppies immediately clinging to Megumi with cheerful yips as he stepped out — and looked at Gojo. Nothing in him, save only for the tension in his broad shoulders, revealed the quiet storm brewing inside.

Swallowing, you hurried to catch up to him.

"Tsumi-chan, how are you now?" Gojo's voice dropped to the gentle warmth you had yet to hear. He quietly closed the doors behind you both and walked to the girl. A little grin tugged at the corner of your lips at the sight of the barrage of meds on the bedside table.

"I feel better now, really. Thank you, Satoru-san. You don't have to worry about me so much."

"Oh, I absolutely do," huffing loudly, Gojo walked over and cleared his throat, telling Tsumiki your name. "Doctor-sensei treats Megumi."

Tsumiki murmured something to greet you, but her last words caught you off guard.

"Nice to meet you, sensei! Satoru-san told us about you."

Eyes widened, you shifted your gaze to Gojo, who was already checking Tsumiki's bunnies. "Really? Did he?"

"Oh, yeah! I know you're really good," she chuckled warmly, but then added hastily, "I don't think there's any need to check on me, I am completely fine!"

But after this, she grimaced quickly and gave up under Gojo's hardened gaze.

Tsumiki got a certain paleness to her skin as you examined her, but nothing unusual for the food poisoning, as you indeed figured it out.

"I think it was cotton candy," the girl murmured, sinking back into the bed. A quiet sigh left her lips. "It's a shame. I liked it."

"Oh, yeah," Gojo grumbled indistinctly from his place. "I'll never let you eat that stuff again, I swear."

The girl's eyes widened as she shared a startled look with you. "But you ate five portions all by yourself! It's not fair!"

Gojo shot her a quick look, though a teasing grin danced on his lips.

"It's not the same. I am an adult, and you are just a teeny tiny girl," he joked lightly, watching a white bunny devouring an applewood stick. "You're such a fatty, fella, I swear."

"Snow is not a fatty!" Tsumiki already jumped in to protect her precious pet. "Just…furry."

"Tsumi-chan, calm down a little. You'd better relax and have a rest," you murmured, while writing down recommendations for Gojo. "Your bunny's name is Snow?"

She nodded carefully, following your words, and twiddled with her fingers.

"Yes. Snow and Ball. The owners wanted to give Snow away, because, you know," she whispered and sniffled quietly. "He was not like other bunnies."

"Albino," Gojo interjected immediately. Almost absent-mindedly: his eyes were focused on the large constellation map on the wall, but you were sure he was listening more than attentively.

"So we took Snow in, and Satoru-san later brought us Ball! He lived on a Bunny Island, but now he's with us."

Your smile wavered, sinking into fragile softness as your hand squeezed Tsumiki's. Then your gaze found Gojo again, who was trying to use Tsumiki's telescope. The sight was quite funny, given Gojo's height and the telescope's design for kids.

Not looking away, you whispered, "Satoru-san is good to you."

"He is," the girl beamed at you, but then grew shy again. Clearing her throat, she asked whether you had some pets.

The bitterness instantly rose in your chest, flooding all the warmth.

Naoya didn't understand the concept of pets and anything that could steal your attention away.

That was your first big fight.

You were just a year together.

With gaze cast down, you shrugged, not aware that Gojo was watching you all the time. "Uhm, no, unfortunately, no. With my work…not quite possible."

"Oh. It's a shame," she sighed again. "But if you want to, you can come and play with my bunnies. And I am sure Megumi won't be against you playing with Kuro and Shiro. Right, Satoru-san?"

"Yeah." He answered without missing a beat. Your heart did a treacherous flip, slamming against your ribcage, and you breathed out with a weak grin.

"Thank you, Tsumi-chan. Get better soon, okay?"

"Make sure she's well-rested. I think she should feel better before Monday. A lot of drinks," you nodded at the paper in Gojo's hand. "Watch the vomit too, and basically just keep an eye on her. If there's a sudden tummy ache, call an ambulance. And call me just in case."

"Sure will do," Gojo murmured tiredly, carefully folding your note and tucking it into his notebook. A sharp pang of something you weren't ready to name yet shot through your heart. Quietly watching Gojo's brows furrow in thought as he turned the pages of his planner — probably filled with dozens of meetings, visits and even dates — you muttered your goodbyes with a full intention to slip quietly out of that lovely home.

Only to be stopped by a warm hand on your elbow.

"Where are you going to? It's late. Ijichi will drive you home."

Your phone was already buzzing with dozens of irritated texts from Naoya, and the thought of him seeing you leave another man's car made your insides churn.

Waving, you huffed a chuckle, "Ah, it's nothing, I'll take a taxi, and it's late!"

"He will be there in five minutes." Gojo casually shrugged your words off, already on its way to hold a door for you. "Come on, I'll walk you out."

The gusts of wind under the veil of tranquil twilight didn't bite you as usual; perhaps, it was Gojo's warmth shielding you from its coldness. Standing right beside him as you waited outside, you couldn't help but reminisce that evening with the British lighter.

An airy chuckle cut through the serenity between you. Gojo tore his gaze away from the star-spilt sky above, and his gentle murmur caressed the expanse of your skin. Even though he was standing a foot apart.

"What are you thinking about?"

Your smile deepened, but you shook your head in response. "Nothing much."

"Hey. Don't go shy on me, Doctor-sensei."

Despite the coldness of the evening, your cheeks flared up. "Telling about me to your kids?"

A soft smile spread on his face as he chuckled.

"Couldn't help. You're really a nice doctor."

"Well, thank you then."

He basked in a response you gave him — a widened gaze, a pink tint to your cheeks, and a little smile — until you went silent again.

Gojo tilted his head in a silent question — the harsh wind threw his white bangs all over his forehead. He didn't make any effort to brush them away; instead, he kept looking at you as if you were the only star gracing the heavens above. Beautiful. Observing.

Mysterious.

"I don't have the lighter on me now."

Startled, you abruptly burned and blinked, your huff dissolving into a light laugh. "And I don't have any cigs."

Gojo's smile deepened almost imperceptibly. Your breath caught in your throat as you felt his warmth enveloping you tighter in its embrace. Nervously, you tucked the lone hair strand behind your ear. Glanced at the sky above, glimmering indifferently.

"Tsumiki likes stars, doesn't she? A whole map and a telescope in her room?" You murmured absent-mindedly, eyes lazily wandering from one celestial body to another.

Naoya didn't like stargazing.

"Ah, yes. A little scientist. She dreams about space and visiting some planets." At the mention of his niece, Gojo's gaze turned melancholic, albeit full of tenderness. "She's a nice girl. Kind and gentle."

At the sudden pensiveness, colouring his voice, you turned around. The wind threw your hair into your face, but you chose not to see anything but Gojo. Your voice came surprisingly steady.

"And you are a nice uncle. When I said to Megumi that you took good care of them, I didn't joke."

Your words clearly stunned Gojo; his eyes widened, and the dark blue of them shone so brightly under the lamplight that you let yourself drown in them all over again.

"You think so, Doc?"

Despite the lightness in his tone, you picked up the strained edge, the hesitance, and something weirdly resembling hope.

His hand twitched a little as you stepped closer and let your fingers tentatively brush against his. Gojo went still, and your quiet yet sure words nearly undid him.

"I know, Gojo."

His chest expanded with a sharp exhale. There was no way he could contain the overwhelming fullness in his chest that came with your presence. And as the honk of Ijichi's car erupted through the silence, he finally managed to find his words again.

"Thank you for coming. I… really appreciate that."

You just shook your head with a warm smile you wore so often. A strange gleam flashed in your gaze.

"No worries. I am glad to help."

For some reason, he couldn't tear his gaze away, and just watched the lonebeam caressing your features in a way he longed to.

The black car finally stopped in front of you. Gojo stepped to open the door for you and murmured.

"Good night. See you soon, right?"

"Right. Bye, Gojo."

And seeing the car slowly disappearing into the dark, Gojo let out a breath, carding his fingers through the hair as the realisation that had been hovering over him like a sword of Damocles finally hit him.

He was so fucked.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

The clock in your office almost struck two, marking your possible fifteen minutes for a break, but you were focused on a baby on the examination table. Softly pressing on the belly, you checked for any enlarged organs, only to give the parents an assuring nod.

"No signs of a hernia as well."

Your light tickles earned soft gurgles from the kid, and you couldn't help but lean down and coo, "Aw, you're such a little talker tonight, aren't you? Looking so happy out here."

The baby babbled something again, flailing their pudgy arms, and gave you a little grin. Your hands softly brushed over the kid's legs to move them over.

"No problems with hip joints! Your baby is completely healthy." A relaxed smile made its way on your face as well, seeing the little girl's parents breathe out in relief.

"Doctor-sensei, we were thinking about introducing Kiki-chan to solid foods," Kiki-chan's mother squirmed in her seat, while her father attempted to put a pacifier in her mouth. The baby protested with a huff.

Humming under your breath, you went through the baby's medical record. "Honestly, it's better you wait a little. I will give you proper recommendations when the time comes. It's usually around 6 months. Meanwhile, remember to have the vitamin D supplement I was talking about."

"Ah, yes. I wanted to ask if 400 IU daily is alright?" Ito-san's voice sounded a bit strained, as Kiki-chan curiously attempted to tug on her mom's hair.

"Totally fine."

Shortly after answering a couple of questions more and reminding the parents to call you in case something suspicious arises, you bid your goodbyes to the family.

Exhausted, you massaged your temples and decided to take a quick nap before a meeting, only to be interrupted by the knock. No urgency, though. No hesitation.

Frowning, you called out to come in, already straightening in your seat. Might've been another emergency, since you didn't have anything more scheduled before the endless Yaga's droning.

The door opened, revealing the emergency himself. The emergency bore a smile, able to disperse any signs of an impending grimness; his hair flashed bright white under the light, and the blue of his gaze pulled you into its ripples just like the day that emergency walked into your life.

Your heart slammed against your ribs, pulse roared in your temples with deafening force, as you stared back at Gojo. Megumi had been charged some time ago, but the lie would've tasted sour if you said Gojo didn't cross your mind. Maybe something happened to Tsumiki?

Sometimes, when the evenings pinned you down with their weight of loneliness, as you stared at Naoya's back blanky, the memories flushed in your mind. You kept every smile, every glance, every bruf of fingers and every word close to your heart, akin to the precious gems.

Then, as Naoya's lips would press a claim on your skin and his fingertips would burn another into your soul, you pulled them out with the utmost care.

Somehow managing to compose yourself, you forced a grin that Gojo would find a pleasant one, at least, "Hi! What are you doing here? Oh, have a seat, would you?"

Gojo's grin deepened, and he sank into the chair in front of you.

"Long time no see, Doc. No-no, everything is okay with kids, don't worry," he hastily added, seeing concern immediately taking over your face.

"Oh." You blinked in surprise. Cleared your throat. Tried not to look as nosy as you felt. Twiddled with a kitten figurine on your table. Finally breathed out.

"Not to be rude or anything, but…what are you doing here then?"

His white brows knitted together as he managed to huff a chuckle. It slowly died under your inquiring gaze.

"You don't know?"

Briefly closing your eyes at the sense of migraine slowly crawling back to make your life even more miserable, you murmured, "Know what?"

The bright grin on Gojo's face wavered, but his voice came out surprisingly soft. As if he were trying to soothe you by the mere tone alone.

"I am on the board of shareholders now. I thought you might've known by now. But it's even better! I am telling you myself."

Brows flying to your hairline in surprise, you breathed out a quiet, shocked chuckle. The gentle sun — as bright as Gojo's radiant grin — warmed your soul in hesitant rays of fondness.

"Really? That's so great! I didn't even hear —"

Naoya didn't bother to mention it to you.

Your smile slowly vanished as the clouds of despair slowly fogged that very sun.

Gojo, who had already helped himself to a candy, suddenly looked up. "Didn't even hear…?"

If you were a lot more braver, you wouldn't let hesitance shake you to the very core. Expose you for who you truly were.

A dove. A naive, frightened dove.

The knife of Naoya's disdainful whisper slowly twisted between your ribs once again, leaving the droplets of something that used to be your affection spilling in crimson paths of sorrow and ache.

"Doc? You good?"

You would've told Gojo everything.

Instead, you gave him a jarred grin.

"Doesn't matter. So, what's the thing for you here?"

His gaze narrowed suspiciously, but he decided not to press further.

"I thought it was a good opportunity. Non-profit management, something like that. You took good care of Megumi, and I was already thinking about," his gaze swept across your room, pausing at the sweets, the examination table, the posters on the walls and the box with toys. The very same you fished Megumi's plushie from. "Contributing to society, all that jazz."

Something in his deliberately light tone told you that you weren't the one to have secrets. With a curious hum, you leaned over, tapping on your chin in mock thoughtfulness.

"Weren't you the one saying that you didn't like meetings and everything?"

Gojo paused, his eyes briefly flicking to your face to gauge your reaction; he saw none, besides an intrigue, dancing in your gaze.

Oh. That was how you wanted to play, huh?

He slowly mirrored your grin, lazily tilting his head. "I am okay if that's for the good."

"It's for the good, then?"

His smile widened, giving you a good look at his dimples.

Giving Gojo the last suspicious glance, you leaned back.

He cleared his throat.

"So, if you have something to say or ask for... you can tell me. Within reasonable limits, of course."

"I'll keep it in mind."

Your pager beeped loudly again, putting your conversation to a halt. With a heavy sigh, you hid it and rose from your seat.

"Did something happen?" Gojo inquired with the same curious, albeit soft gaze that had been silently caressing you the entire conversation.

Stifling a sigh and your urge to ditch the whole thing, you admitted begrudgingly, "No, not at all. Just the department's meeting."

"Oh," he hummed incredulously, but his gaze was still firmly set on you. You decided to get through your notes just not to feel its weight. It never failed to send shivers down your spine.

"You've already met Yaga-san, the department's director, I suppose?"

An attempt to briefly switch the topic and the nervous tone didn't go unnoticed by Gojo.

As well as the slightest twitch of your fingers, when you meticulously tucked all the notes into one neat pile.

"Yeah. He's...an interesting guy. I would say more like a businessman type. Talks about the financing and the sponsor's attraction."

Gojo's words earned an airy chuckle from you.

"Oh, he can talk about it day and night, I swear."

"That he can," he agreed, shaking his head with a small laugh. "Still, I think he cares about all of you. The finances topic is surely one of the hottest on the board meeting."

"That's why I am not really sure why you decided to join it — ah, shit!"

One clumsy turn and a misguided step — god, sometimes Naoya was right: you really felt like having two left feet — and the carefully arranged notes went scattered on your floor like birds trying to escape.

"Damn, I am so clumsy." Kneeling immediately, you murmured under your breath and stilled, feeling Gojo's finger brush gingerly against yours as he handed you one of the vaccination reports. The time completely paused around you: the thick, heavy substance enveloping both of you.

The world closed in on the blue in his eyes. Spilt heavens, simmering waves of an ocean, June sky, when the world's radiance blinded with its brightness, merged into the tint that dulled every other colour for you. Took you to another world, even just for a fleeting moment.

"Oh, look at that. Is that...wait, is that yours?"

Your head immediately snapped towards Gojo, and you saw him holding that small, pathetic makeshift portfolio — the one you probably pulled out just to throw away, but the thought slipped away from your tired mind just like usual.

The heat of humiliation, mixed with embarrassment, exploded within you in a painful red. Helplessly blinking, you forced a pathetic chuckle.

"Oh, that? No, it's — "

And then why did you carry that binder around, huh? Think, think, think!

Your mind desperately scrambled for a plausible explanation, but after some debating, you surrendered to his gaze.

"Yes. These are mine. It's nothing special, though. Some lazy, stupid doodles."

Gojo frowned instantly at the belittlement curling in your voice like a berated animal. He slowly rose to his height and murmured in bewilderment.

"You're joking, right?"

You blinked. Blinked again. Didn't think of anything better than to stare at Gojo as you had seen him for the first time. Stare at him carefully going through the binder. Stare at the light wrinkle between his brows, knitted in concentration. Stare at his lips until they parted and uttered the words that knocked all the air from your lungs.

"These are wonderful!"

The pager beeped again to remind you about the upcoming meeting, but all your being shrinked to the little folder in Gojo's hands.

Naoya's words about wasting your time immediately flared up, and you straightened as well to make a grab for the photos.

"It's nothing special. Really. Just a bunch of stuff."

Gojo dragged his shocked gaze from the portfolio back to you and let you have the damn binder. You would throw it away the first thing after the meeting.

To which, in fact, you should've hurried long ago.

"I have to go."

Gojo watched your figure moving around with the newly acquired urgency. As if you had been trying to shake any remnants of the intimacy that had just unfolded around you.

His eyes searched your face with a quiet, almost aching attention, until he finally muttered.

"Did I say something wrong?"

No.

Don't say that.

Don't do that to me.

A cruel beast crawled up your veins to clutch your insides in a freezing grip, while fear and regret trapped your lone heartbeat.

Gojo didn't say anything, instead letting his eyes talk, but you were too occupied with your own thoughts to hear him.

Eventually, he stepped back with a quiet sigh, and the thinly veiled frustration in his voice caused your heart to sink.

"I am sorry. I didn't mean to go overboard in any way. I'll leave you alone."

The sight of Gojo's broad shoulders slumped in the slightest bitterness cracked something in your chest.

The pager went off again with a loud beep.

"I really have to go."

Gojo only gave you a curt nod, and all the time you were closing your office, you felt the weight of his gaze pinning you down.

A hundred words rested just on the tip of your tongue. Instead, you settled on a quiet, hesitant apology, gently grazing his elbow.

"I am sorry. It's not this. You haven't done anything wrong."

He turned almost immediately at your words, but as much as he wanted to ask more — so, so much more than you were ready to offer — he stilled. And prompted gently.

"Then what is it?"

You sucked in a sharp exhale, just to —

"Dove? There you are!"

For the reason to appear himself.

The look of pure panic on your face the second the voice reached you made Gojo frown. Then your frightened gaze flicked to him.

The crowd around you parted slightly, revealing a man. Gojo caught a couple of fond gazes shared between the nurses, but that couldn't bother him less.

The immediate self-conscious curve of your shoulders, paired with the stiffness of your moves, when the guy pulled you closer without any words, concerned Gojo way more.

"Dove. What did I say about answering my calls? I don't want to look around for you all over the hospital. I am way too busy for this."

The arrogant, disdainful voice of that prick immediately grated on Gojo's nerves. The tone was not suitable even for berating a pet, let alone talking to a human being. Someone supposedly beloved.

Gojo's jaw tightened. He was about to step in when you swiftly interjected with a grin too wide to be sincere. Your hand on the man's arm didn't promise any good.

The guy turned to Gojo's side and stilled for a moment, quirking a brow.

"Darling," your tone sounded so weird, Gojo barely recognised it — something like the plea to an executioner to give you the last glimpses of freedom. "This is Gojo Satoru. He's on the board of the shareholders as well."

The prick slowly tilted his head, dragging his gaze over Gojo in silent yet sharp examination. Then a weird gleam flushed in his eyes as they slightly widened in recognition.

That scowl and barely masked derision on his face had stirred something distant in Gojo's memory, but the whole image remained blurry. Until you introduced him as well, piercing all the pieces.

"This is Zenin Naoya. My..."

Naoya didn't appreciate your pause and flashed an arrogant smirk.

"Her fiancé."

Zenin.

Right. Of course.

The surname that was such a frequent guest at all the gatherings Gojo used to attend. He felt an immediate wave of repulsion towards that prick, but managed to mask it with a slightly narrowed gaze, simply out of respect for you.

Gojo heard a lot about the Zenins back then, when his piece carried some value in his parents' game. Even now, some rumours still managed to reach him, despite all the efforts.

If any of them were true about the young Zenin heir…

Fiancé.

Gods. He put all the details — your empty stares, self-deprecating jokes, occasional flinches, even the earlier reaction to his compliment to your drawing — with terrifying clarity.

Puzzles finally slotted into the frame that your fiancé forced you into. Everything made sense now.

Quickly closing his eyes to compose himself, Gojo immediately opened them, forced by the hesitance in your tone.

"You should've met at the board's meeting, I suppose," your gaze flickered nervously between Gojo and Naoya in an attempt to quickly assess the surroundings. The air was growing thicker with each passing second: the whispers around rose in frequency, while Gojo's gaze narrowed even more deadly, and Naoya's smirk turned maliciously sharper.

The muscle in Gojo's jaw tightened.

"It's always a great opportunity to meet another member of the respected clan," Naoya tilted his head just a tad, but the harsh look in his eyes didn't melt even for a second. "Even though he somehow busied my little dove so much, she forgot to check her phone, huh?"

The scene he would certainly cause you later flashed before your eyes. You managed to offer some apologetic murmur before Naoya cut you off with a single word.

"Quiet."

Wordlessly, you dropped your gaze. One word shaped you into a person so meek that you barely resembled the woman Gojo slowly came to know.

His blood boiled at the sight, but the look he gave Naoya was enough to freeze hell.

"Can't say the same, Zenin."

Naoya stilled. His smirk slowly wavered, but then a low, amused chuckle left him, followed by the words dipped in poison.

"Oh? I suppose other respected clans didn't care about teaching their heirs proper manners, did they, Satoru-kun?"

The crowd around went completely silent, as if someone stole their voices. Even the sounds of pagers and rhythmic taps on the keyboard quietened. A few glares landed on you, and you could already hear your colleagues clicking their tongues in annoyance.

Again, never directed at Naoya.

Nothing changed in Gojo's face as he simply raised his chin and drawled with an infuriating smirk, "Have you learnt any before talking to your future wife, huh?"

Your head snapped immediately at the sound of his voice. Your lips parted to force some excuse.

You had none.

As well as Naoya.

His cheeks paled in an instant, but the tips of his ears blushed pink. No wonder — another humiliation from a man, let alone a man, defending you.

That act of disgrace Naoya couldn't bear.

Seething inside, he surprisingly gently tugged you closer and whispered, "We'll talk about it later, sweetheart."

As Gojo watched your figures retreat, he caught the wide-eyed gaze you sent him over your shoulder, full of so much remorse, that it twisted something violently in his chest.

@alygator77 @man1cslut @p3talswayingindesun @xunquish-blog @mitchskiii @anothergojostan @cridtiins @gyarujo @aurievalley @alebrasil0101 @nanahach1 @renfangirls247 @secretsofchance @kranktruther @megumuro @angierb05 @wgucigu @erenyeagerflatass @dazaisdogsblog @sauraaaa @tbzzluvr @ayookeikooo @kanekisheart @fisusaurus @yoonmindds @anujah9 @ikeirrr @little-precious-baby

a/n: ik this part is not very big on events, still i like it :) comments and reblogs are appreciated, let me know your thoughts!

Trending Blogs

Recently Viewed Blogs

I'm going to get someone injured