who knows how accurate this is to canon, but I want to die every time I imagine babyjo seeing curses for the first time and being so scared of the monsters that he cried and cried but no one ever came to comfort him. he cried in the way children do, with hiccups, hyperventilating, all snotty and red in the face. they probably scoffed at him too. disappointed and disgusted by his display of weakness. babyjo didn't understand why they were so mad at him for crying, why no one was protecting him from the monsters.
he couldn't shut his eyes, because he still saw them. everywhere. all at once.
babyjo eventually learnt to self-soothe. he had to. because no one would talk to him until he stopped crying. because he didn't like disappointing everyone. he might have had a blanket or toy he brought with him everywhere till it was dirty and torn apart because it was warmer than how everyone else holds him. because no one hugged him. no one rubbed his head or patted his back, no one sang lullabies to get him to sleep, or reassured him after he woke up from a nightmare
maybe someone higher up decided that the heir shouldn't have a teddy or blanky β it's an embarrassing display of vulnerability the gojo clan cannot afford β and they snatched it from him. no one listened to him when he begged to have it back. and he begged for so long.
once again babyjo was alone.
that's why, if he ever has a baby, best believe he's spoiling the little thing with all the toys in the world!!! he doesn't believe in letting the baby cry it out. doesn't believe in saying 'no' or 'be a big boy'. dadjo always brings his baby up to eye level or he bends down. he hates towering over his baby. he doesn't believe in a child being able to identify their parent by their legs or their shoes.
dadjo dresses his mini me in the cutest, softest onesies and cuddles the hell out of his baby as a way to heal his inner child. he's the type to be admiring his baby and then suddenly getting cuteness aggression. "my shaylaaaaa," he'd coo, biting his baby's chubby cheek.
oh and he totally compares his baby with all other babies. 'my baby doesn't scream endlessly like that in public' + 'my baby eats all their vegetables' + 'my baby can build tower blocks as tall as they are'
but dadjo also always tells his baby, 'you're perfect just the way you are. even if you're not the smartest, the biggest, or the strongest. just grow up healthy. and take care of your mommy. she gets sad when I'm not with her.'
synopsis. Gojo Satoru is the strongest sorcerer alive. He's faced curses that would make grown men weep. But none of that prepared him for this β you, asleep on his shoulder, with your hand on his chest and your breath warm against his neck. Or: five times he almost told you, and one time he finally did.
pairing. gojo satoru x f!reader
content & warnings. LOTS ofΒ fluff, pining, mutual pining, soft gojo, gojo is DOWN BAD, friends to lovers, forehead kisses, cheek kisses, REAL kisses (FINALLY), short reader agenda (she has to tip-toe), shoko and geto are MENACES (yes, geto is alive dw guys <3)
word count. 5.6k+ (does not include text messages!)
A/N. EKEKE HES SO CUTE AND ADORABLE !! (β₯οΉβ₯) I WAS GIGGLING TO MYSELF WHILE WRITING THIS oh and, I did NOT proofread this, so bare with me if u spot any typos or mistakes!!
PART ONE: THE MOVIE NIGHT
It was supposed to be a simple movie night.
That's what Satoru kept telling himself, anyway. Just a few friends, some takeout, a bad horror movie that everyone would make fun of. Normal. Easy. Safe.
He should have known better.
BecauseΒ youΒ were there.
You, curled up on the couch with your knees tucked under you, a blanket draped over your lap. You, laughing at the terrible special effects, your nose crinkling in that way that made his chest ache. You, wearing one of his hoodies β the black one with the worn-out sleeves, the one you'd borrowed three months ago and never given back.
Not that he wanted it back.
Not that he'd ever ask for it back.
Not when you looked likeΒ thatΒ β soft and cozy and so unfairly beautiful that he couldn't concentrate on anything else.
"Satoru." Shoko's voice cut through his thoughts. "You're staring."
He blinked, tearing his eyes away from you. "I'm not staring."
"You're literally staring."
"I'm looking. There's a difference."
Shoko raised an eyebrow, taking a slow sip of her drink. "Uh-huh. And what's the difference?"
He opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.
"Shut up," he said finally.
Shoko snorted, but mercifully, she didn't push. She just gave him a knowing look β the kind that saidΒ we're talking about this laterΒ β and turned back to the screen.
Satoru let out a breath and tried to focus on the movie.
He failed.
Because you shifted beside him, pulling the blanket higher, and your shoulder brushed against his arm. Just a touch. Just a second. Just enough to send electricity shooting through his entire body.
"Get a grip,"Β he told himself.Β "It's just a movie night. It's just her. It's just-"
You yawned.
A small, soft sound, barely audible over the screaming on screen. Your eyes fluttered, lashes casting tiny shadows on your cheeks. You blinked once, twice, and then your head started to droop.
"Oh no,"Β he thought.Β "Oh no no no."
Your head landed on his shoulder.
Satoru stopped breathing.
You were warm. So warm. Your hair smelled like flowers β something soft, something sweet, something that made him want to bury his face in it and never come up for air. Your hand, limp with sleep, had somehow found its way to his chest, fingers curled loosely against his shirt.
"Don't panic,"Β he told himself.Β "Don't-"
His heart was pounding so loud he was sure it would wake you up.
"Panicking,"Β he admitted.Β "I'm panicking."
He looked at Shoko.
Shoko was watching him with an expression of pure, unholy amusement.
"Don't," he mouthed.
She smiled. She actuallyΒ smiled. Then she pulled out her phone and started typing.
"I will kill her,"Β he thought.Β "I will actually kill her."
But he didn't move.
He couldn't move.
Because you wereΒ right there, asleep on his shoulder, and if he moved β even slightly β you might wake up. You might pull away. You might realize how close you were and think it was weird and stop falling asleep on him and he would never feel this again.
So he stayed perfectly still.
The movie played on. Shoko typed away on her phone, probably telling Geto exactly what was happening. The others laughed at the screen, oblivious.
And Satoru sat there, heart racing, breath shallow, completely, utterly undone.
PART TWO: THE FIRST HOUR
Twenty-three minutes.
That's how long it took for his arm to fall asleep.
Not that he cared. His arm could fall off entirely and he wouldn't move. Not when you were nestled against him like this, your cheek pressed to his shoulder, your breath warm against his neck.
You'd shifted in your sleep at some point, curling closer. Your hand had slid from his chest to his arm, fingers loosely wrapped around his bicep. The blanket had slipped, and he could see the curve of your shoulder, the way his hoodie gaped just slightly at the collar.
"Don't look,"Β he told himself.
He looked.
"Stop looking."
He kept looking.
You're being creepy.
He was absolutely being creepy. He didn't care.
You made a soft sound β not quite a word, not quite a sigh β and burrowed deeper against him. Your nose pressed into the crook of his neck. Your breath ghosted across his skin.
Satoru's brain short-circuited.
"This is fine,"Β he thought, as his entire nervous system went up in flames.Β "This is normal. Friends do this. Friends fall asleep on each other all the time. It's fine."
His heart was beating so fast he was genuinely concerned it might give out.
"She can feel that,"Β he realized suddenly.Β "She can feel my heartbeat."
He tried to slow his breathing. Tried to calm down. Tried to think about anything other than the fact that you wereΒ right there, warm and soft and so close he could count your eyelashes if he wanted to.
(He wanted to. He wasn't going to. But he wanted to.)
"Satoru."
He jumped. Shoko was standing in front of him, arms crossed, looking down at him with an expression that was equal parts amused and exasperated.
"What?" he whispered.
"You need to breathe."
"I'm breathing."
"You're hyperventilating."
"I'm not-" He took a breath. Then another. "Okay, maybe a little."
Shoko shook her head, but there was something soft in her eyes. Something that looked almost like sympathy. "You've got it bad, huh?"
He didn't answer. He didn't need to. They both knew.
"Just tell her," Shoko said quietly.
"And risk this?" He glanced down at you β at the way you trusted him enough to fall asleep on him, at the way your face was soft and peaceful. "I can't lose this."
Shoko was quiet for a moment. Then she sighed. "You're hopeless."
"I know."
She walked away, and Satoru was alone again.
Alone with you.
Alone with the weight of your head on his shoulder, the warmth of your hand on his arm, the quiet sound of your breathing.
He tilted his head, just slightly, and rested his cheek against your hair.
"Just for a second,"Β he told himself.Β "Just one second."
He closed his eyes.
One second stretched into two, stretched into five, stretched into something that felt like forever and not long enough all at once.
"I love you,"Β he thought.Β "I love you. I love you. I love-"
You stirred.
He jerked his head back, heart pounding, terrified that you'd heard him somehow. That you'd felt the words in the way his body tensed, in the way his breath caught.
But you just shifted, mumbling something unintelligible, and fell still again.
Satoru let out a shaky breath.
"You're pathetic,"Β he told himself.
He didn't disagree.
PART THREE: THE TEXT MESSAGES
His phone buzzed.
Then buzzed again.
Then buzzed a third time.
Satoru grabbed it with his free hand β the one not currently trapped under your sleeping form β and glared at the screen.
Satoru typed back with one thumb, his movements careful and quiet.
A/N. Satoru typed: "i hate both of you" !! :D
Satoru shoved his phone back in his pocket, ignoring the next buzz (and the buzz after that). He didn't need them teasing him. He was doing a perfectly good job of tormenting himself.
Because you'd shifted again.
Your hand had slipped from his arm to his hand βΒ his handΒ β and your fingers were loosely intertwined with his. Not holding, exactly. Just... resting. Like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"She's asleep,"Β he reminded himself.Β "She doesn't know it's you. She could be holding anyone's hand."
But she wasn't holding anyone's hand.
She was holdingΒ his.
And that meant something.
"Does it, though?"Β a nasty little voice whispered.Β "Or are you just desperate?"
He was desperate. He'd been desperate for years. Maybe longer. Maybe since the day he met you, when you'd looked at him β not as Gojo Satoru, the strongest, but just asΒ SatoruΒ β and smiled.
He'd been a goner ever since.
He looked down at your hand, at the way your fingers curled around his. Your nails were bare β no polish, no acrylics. Your skin was soft. There was a small scar on your knuckle, probably from cooking, and he wanted to kiss it.
"That's weird,"Β he thought.Β "That's definitely weird."
He wanted to do it anyway.
He didn't, of course. He wasn't a complete creep.
(He was, actually. He was absolutely a creep. But he was a creep with self-control.)
Instead, he just sat there, holding your hand, counting your breaths, and trying very, very hard not to think about how much he loved you.
He failed at that, too.
PART FOUR: THE DANGEROUS THOUGHT
Two hours and eleven minutes.
That's how long you'd been asleep on him.
The movie had ended. Everyone else had left β Shoko with a knowing smirk, Geto with a quiet "good luck," the others with various degrees of obliviousness. The apartment was quiet now, the only sounds the hum of the refrigerator and the soft rhythm of your breathing.
Satoru should wake you up.
He knew he should wake you up.
It was late. You'd be sore if you slept on the couch all night. Your neck would hurt. You'd regret it in the morning.
"Wake her up,"Β he told himself.
He didn't move.
Wake. Her. Up.
He tightened his arm around you, just slightly. Just enough to feel the warmth of you through his hoodie.
You're making it worse.
He knew.
He didn't care.
Because this βΒ thisΒ β was everything he'd ever wanted. You, soft and sleepy and trusting. You, curled against him like he was somewhere safe. You, breathing quietly, your heart beating against his side.
"This is what it would be like,"Β he thought.Β "If you were mine."
He could almost see it. Waking up next to you every morning. Making you coffee the way you liked it. Holding your hand in crowded streets. Kissing your forehead before bed.
"Stop,"Β he told himself.Β "Stop. You're torturing yourself."
But he couldn't stop.
He tilted his head, looking down at you. Your face was peaceful in sleep β no worry lines, no tension. Your lips were slightly parted. Your lashes fanned across your cheeks.
She's so beautiful.
He wanted to kiss you.
Not in a passionate, sweeping way. Not in the way people kissed in movies. Just... softly. Gently. A whisper of a kiss against your forehead, your temple, the corner of your mouth.
"Just once,"Β he thought.Β "Just once. She'd never know."
He leaned in.
Just a little. Just enough to feel your breath on his lips. Just enough to count every single one of your eyelashes.
"This is wrong,"Β a voice whispered.Β "She didn't consent. She's asleep. This is wrong."
He pulled back.
His heart was pounding. His hands were shaking. His lips were tingling with want.
"You almost did that,"Β he realized.Β "You almost actually did that."
He was disgusted with himself.
He was also still in love with you.
Both things could be true.
He closed his eyes and rested his head against the back of the couch, trying to slow his breathing. Trying to calm his racing heart. Trying to forget how close he'd come to ruining everything.
"You need to tell her,"Β he thought.Β "Not like this. Not while she's asleep. But... soon. You need to tell her soon."
He wasn't sure he believed it.
But he knew he couldn't keep going like this β wanting you, aching for you, loving you in silence.
Something had to change.
"Tomorrow,"Β he promised himself.Β "Tomorrow, I'll tell her."
Tomorrow came far too quickly.
PART FIVE: THE MORNING
You woke up slowly.
First, there was warmth. Warmth everywhere β against your cheek, your chest, your hands. Then there was sound β a steady rhythm, like waves, like breathing.
"Someone's heartbeat,"Β you realized.
Then there was smell β something clean and familiar, something that smelled likeΒ him.
Satoru.
Your eyes fluttered open.
You were on the couch. The TV was off. The apartment was dark, lit only by the faint glow of the streetlights outside. And you were...
Oh.
You were lying on top of him.
Your head was on his chest, right over his heart. Your legs were tangled with his. Your hand was tucked under his hoodie βΒ his hoodie, the one you were wearing, the one that smelled like himΒ β pressed flat against his stomach.
He was asleep.
His head was tilted back against the couch, his blindfold askew, his mouth slightly open. His arms were wrapped around you, holding you close like he was afraid you'd disappear.
"He's beautiful,"Β you thought.
He was. Even like this β disheveled and vulnerable and nothing like the confident, annoying Gojo Satoru the world knew. Especially like this.
You should move.
You knew you should move.
But you didn't.
You just lay there, listening to his heartbeat, feeling the rise and fall of his chest, memorizing the way his arms felt around you.
"I love you,"Β you thought.Β "I love you. I love you. I love-"
His arms tightened.
You froze.
"Satoru?" you whispered.
He didn't answer. His breathing didn't change. He was still asleep.
But his arms held you closer, and his head tilted until his cheek was resting against your hair.
"He's dreaming,"Β you realized.Β "He doesn't know it's me."
Or maybe he did.
Maybe, even in sleep, he knew exactly who he was holding.
You closed your eyes and let yourself have this β just a few more minutes of pretending he was yours.
"Five more minutes,"Β you told yourself.Β "Then I'll move."
You stayed for twenty. Maybe longer.
PART SIX: THE WAKING
He woke up to sunlight.
Bright, obnoxious sunlight, streaming through the window and hitting him directly in the face. He groaned, squeezing his eyes shut, and tried to remember where he was.
"Couch,"Β he remembered.Β "Movie night. Shoko. Suguru. And-"
You.
He looked down.
You were still there.
Still asleep on his chest. Still wearing his hoodie. Still warm and soft and so beautiful it made his chest ache.
His arms were still wrapped around you.
He hadn't let go. Not once, all night.
"You're an idiot,"Β he told himself.Β "A complete, utter idiot."
But he didn't move.
He couldn't.
Because you wereΒ right there, and this might be the last time he ever got to hold you like this. The last time he could pretend, even for a moment, that you were his.
Wake her up,Β he thought.Β You need to wake her up.
He raised his hand β the one that had been resting on your back β and hovered it over your shoulder.
Do it.
He couldn't.
Coward.
He was. He was a coward. He was the strongest sorcerer in the world, and he was too scared to wake up the girl he loved.
Pathetic.
Just as he was about to drop his hand back down β his phone buzzed.
Once. Twice. Three times.
He grabbed it with his free hand, squinting at the screen. 7:11 AM.
He sighed, typing back with one thumb.
He shoved his phone back in his pocket, shaking his head.
What he didn't notice β what he couldn't have known β was the way your breathing had changed. The way your fingers had curled, just slightly, against his chest. The way your heart had skipped a beat when the phone buzzed.
You were awake.
You'd been awake since the first buzz β the vibration against his chest, right where your cheek was resting. You'd felt it. You'd seen the glow of the screen.
"Did u sleep on the couch all night."
Your heart was pounding now, but you kept your eyes closed. Kept your breathing slow. Kept pretending.
He dropped his hand back to your back, defeated.
And then you felt him shift β just slightly. His hand came up again, hovering near your shoulder. You could feel the warmth of his palm, inches from your skin.
"Is he going to wake me up?"Β you wondered.
But he didn't.
His hand dropped back to your back.
And then β he spoke. So quiet you almost missed it.
"I love you."
Your heart stopped.
"You have no idea how much I love you," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "And I'm too scared to tell you. I'm too scared to lose this. I'm too scared to loseΒ you."
You wanted to open your eyes. You wanted to tell him you felt the same. You wanted to kiss him and hold him and never let go.
But you were frozen.
And then he shifted again β and you felt his breath on your forehead. Warm. Soft. Close.
Is he going to β
His lips brushed your forehead. Just barely. Just a whisper of a touch. A kiss so light you almost missed it.
Then he pulled away.
You felt his heart pounding under your cheek. You felt his arms tighten around you, just slightly. You felt the weight of his words hanging in the air between you.
"He loves me,"Β you thought.Β "He actually loves me."
You should say something.
You should open your eyes and tell him you heard everything.
But you were scared too.
So you kept pretending. Just a little longer.
A few minutes passed. Or maybe it was longer. You couldn't tell. Your heart was still racing, your mind still spinning.
And then β you felt him shift again. His hand came up, this time to your shoulder. Gentle. Careful.
"Hey," he said softly. "Wake up."
You let your eyes flutter open β slowly, sleepily, like you were surfacing from deep water.
You blinked.
He blinked back.
"Hi," you said, your voice soft and rough with sleep.
"Say something normal,"Β he commanded himself.Β "Something casual. Something-"
"Hi," he said.
Hi?Β his brain screamed.Β HI?!
You smiled β a small, sleepy smile that made his heart stop. "Did I fall asleep on you?"
"Yeah."
"For how long?"
He glanced at the window, at the sunlight streaming through the blinds. "All night, I think."
Your eyes widened. "All night?"
"All night."
You pushed yourself up β just enough to look at him, your hands braced on his chest. Your face was inches from his. He could see the faint crease on your cheek from where you'd been pressed against his hoodie. He could see the sleep in your eyes, the softness in your expression.
"Why didn't you wake me up?" you asked.
"Because I'm selfish,"Β he thought.Β "Because I wanted to hold you. Because I'm in love with you and I'm too scared to say it."
"You looked comfortable," he said instead.
You stared at him for a long moment. Your eyes searched his face, looking for something β he didn't know what.
"Satoru," you said finally.
"Yeah?"
"Were you watching me sleep?"
His face went red. "No."
"Liar."
"I wasn't- I was just- my eyes were open and you happened to be in front of them-"
You laughed.
A real laugh, bright and warm, the kind that made his chest ache. Your nose crinkled. Your eyes squeezed shut. Your hands pressed against his chest as you shook with laughter.
And Satoru forgot how to breathe.
Because you wereΒ beautiful.
Not in the way the world meant it β not polished or posed or perfect. But in the way that mattered. In the way that made him want to wake up next to you every morning for the rest of his life.
"You're so weird," you said, still laughing.
"I'm not weird."
"You're very weird."
"I'mΒ quirky."
"You're something," you said, and your voice was softer now. Gentler. Your hands were still on his chest, and you hadn't moved away.
Neither had he.
Neither of you moved.
The sunlight crept across the floor. The birds sang outside. The world woke up around you, oblivious to the two of you frozen on the couch, inches apart, hearts pounding.
"Satoru," you whispered.
"Yeah."
"Tell her,"Β he thought.Β "Tell her now. This is the moment."
"I-"
His phone buzzed.
Loud and obnoxious, shattering the moment like a stone through glass. You jumped. He jumped. Your hands slipped from his chest. His arms loosened around you.
The spell was broken.
He shoved his phone back in his pocket, face burning.
"We should-" you started.
"Yeah," he said. "Yeah, we should."
Neither of you moved.
Then you stood up, stretching your arms above your head. His hoodie rode up, just a little, and he caught a glimpse of your stomach β just a flash, just a second, just enough to make his face go red.
"I'm gonna..." you said, pointing toward the kitchen.
"Yeah," he said. "I'll β yeah."
You walked away.
And Satoru sat on the couch, alone, heart pounding, hands shaking, and thought about what he'd almost said.
I love you.
I love you.
He'd almost said it.
"Next time,"Β he promised himself.Β "Next time, I'll actually say it."
But as he sat there, staring at the kitchen doorway, he realized something.
He was tired of next time.
He was tired of almost.
He was tired of watching you walk away and wonderingΒ what if.
So he stood up.
His legs were shaking. His hands were shaking. His entire body was shaking.
"Don't think,"Β he told himself.Β "Just move."
He walked to the kitchen.
PART SEVEN: THE CONFESSION
You were standing by the counter, drinking a bottle of water. The morning light was streaming through the window, catching the edges of your hair, painting you in gold. You were still wearing his hoodie βΒ his hoodieΒ β and you were trying very, very hard to calm your racing heart.
"He loves you,"Β a voice whispered in your head.Β "He said it. He kissed your forehead. He loves you."
But then why hadn't he said anything when you were both awake? Why had he just... let you walk away?
"Because he's scared too,"Β you realized.Β "Just like you."
You heard footsteps behind you.
You turned.
He was standing in the kitchen doorway, looking at you with an expression you'd never seen before. Soft. Vulnerable. Nervous. His hands were shoved deep in his pockets. His shoulders were tense. His eyes β those stupid, beautiful eyes β were fixed on you like you were the only thing in the room.
Your heart stopped.
"This is it,"Β you thought.Β "This is the moment."
"Satoru?" you said, your voice coming out smaller than you meant it to. "What's wrong?"
He didn't answer.
He just stood there, looking at you like you were something precious. Something he was terrified of losing.
"Say something,"Β you begged silently.Β "Please, say something."
"Satoru," you said again, quieter this time. Your hands were shaking. "You're scaring me. What's wrong?"
He swallowed hard. His jaw tightened. For a moment, he looked like he was going to make a joke β deflect, the way he always did.
But then his shoulders relaxed.
And he said, "I think I've been in love with you for years."
The water bottle slipped from your fingers.
It hit the counter with a dullΒ thunkΒ β water spilling everywhere, dripping onto the floor β but neither of you moved to clean it up. You couldn't. Because the only thing you could see was him. The only thing you could hear was the sound of your own heart pounding in your ears.
"He loves you,"Β a voice whispered in your head.Β "He actually loves you."
"I don't- I can't remember when it started," he continued, because once the words started, he couldn't stop them. His voice was steady βΒ almostΒ steady β but his hands were shoved deep in his pockets, and you could tell he was gripping them tight. "Maybe it was the first time you laughed at one of my stupid jokes. Maybe it was the first time you looked at me like I was just... Satoru. Not Gojo. Not the strongest. Just... me."
You weren't moving.
You weren't saying anything.
Your lips were parted. Your cheeks were flushed. Your eyes were stinging with tears you didn't even know were forming.
"You already knew this,"Β you told yourself.Β "You heard him say it on the couch. Why are you crying?"
But hearing it now β with his voice steady and his eyes scared and his hands shaking β was different. It was real. It was happening.
"I know I'm not- I know I'm a lot," he said, and his voice cracked β just a little, just at the end. He cleared his throat quickly, like he was trying to cover it up. "I'm loud and annoying and I never shut up. But when I'm with you, I don't have to be any of that. I can just... be. And I- I don't want to lose that. I don't want to lose you. But I can't keep pretending that I don't-"
You moved.
You didn't even realize you were moving until you were standing in front of him, close enough to feel his breath on your skin, close enough to see the way his eyes were searching yours β hopeful and terrified all at once.
"Tell him,"Β the voice whispered.Β "Tell him now. You already know he loves you. So tell him."
"Satoru," you said, and your voice was shaking. "Are you- are you saying what I think you're saying?"
He swallowed again. His hands came out of his pockets, flexing at his sides like he didn't know what to do with them. "That depends. What do you think I'm saying?"
"He's scared,"Β you realized.Β "He's scared you don't feel the same way. He doesn't know you heard him on the couch. He doesn't know you've been in love with him for years."
"I think you're saying you love me."
"There it is,"Β he thought.Β "The words. Out loud. Hanging in the air between you."
He took a breath. Held it. Let it out.
"I love you," he said. "I've been in love with you for- I don't know- months? Years? I don't even remember anymore. I just know that I can't- I can't keep pretending I don't-"
You didn't let him finish.
Instead, you stood on your tiptoes β because he was tall, so stupidly tall, and you wereΒ notΒ β and pressed a soft, gentle kiss to his cheek.
Right on the curve of his cheekbone. Right where his skin was warmest. Right where you could feel him freeze beneath your lips.
You pulled back, just enough to look at him.
His eyes were wide.
His mouth was slightly open.
His face was slowly turning red β from his neck to his cheeks to the tips of his ears.
"You-" he started.
You were smiling. A small, shy, trembling smile that made your heart feel too big for your chest. Tears were streaming down your face β happy tears, the kind you couldn't hold back even if you tried.
"I love you too, you idiot," you said. "I've been in love with you forΒ years. I thought you knew. I thought-"
His eyes glistened.
Just for a second.
Just a flash of something wet and bright before he blinked it away.
But you saw it.
He's crying,Β you realized.Β He's actually crying.
"You love me?" he asked, and his voice was so small β smaller than you'd ever heard it. Softer than you'd ever imagined. "You really-"
"I really do."
He didn't let you say anything else.
His hands came up to cup your face β gently, so gently, like you were something precious, something fragile, something he was terrified of breaking. His thumbs brushed across your cheekbones, wiping away tears even as his own spilled over.
"Satoru," you whispered.
"Yeah?"
"You're crying."
"I'm not crying."
"Your eyes are leaking."
"Allergies."
"It's winter."
"Winter allergies."
You laughed β a wet, shaky, beautiful laugh β and he stared at you like you'd hung the moon.
"I love you," he said again, like he couldn't help it. Like the words were pouring out of him and he couldn't stop them. "I love you. I love you. I-"
You kissed him.
Or maybe he kissed you. You couldn't tell anymore. All you knew was that his lips were on yours, and his hands were in your hair, and his heart was pounding against your chest.
Not gentle. Not soft.
Desperate.
Like a man dying of thirst who'd finally found water. Like he'd been holding back for years and the dam had finally broken. His lips slanted over yours, hungry and searching, and you gasped against his mouth β your hands fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer.
"This",Β he thought.Β "This is what I've been missing."
"This,"Β you thought.Β "This is what I've been waiting for."
When he finally pulled back β both of you breathless, both of you flushed, both of you smiling like idiots β he didn't go far. He rested his forehead against yours, his nose brushing against your nose, his hands still cradling your face like you were something precious.
"Say it again," you whispered.
"I love you."
"Again."
"I love you."
"Again."
"I love you. I love you. I love-"
You tried to kiss him again β you could feel him leaning in, his lips brushing against yours β but he pulled back just enough to make you chase him. Just enough to make you want.
"Uh-uh," he murmured, a teasing smile playing on his lips. "I'm not done saying it yet."
"Then say it faster."
He laughed β a real laugh, bright and warm, the kind he only ever gave you. "I love you. I love you. I love you. I've been wanting to say that for years. I've been wanting to kiss you for years. Do you know how hard it's been? Watching you wear my hoodie? Watching you fall asleep on my shoulder? Watching you smile at me like I'm not-"
You kissed him.
You couldn't help it.
You stood on your tiptoes yet again, and pressed your lips to his β cutting him off mid-sentence.
He melted into you.
His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him. His head tilted, deepening the kiss. His fingers pressed into the small of your back, holding you like he was afraid you'd disappear.
When you finally broke apart β both of you gasping for air, both of you grinning like fools β he didn't let go. He kept his arms around you, kept you close, kept his forehead resting against yours.
"I love you too," you said against his lips. "I love you so much it scares me."
"Good," he said, pulling back just enough to look at you. His eyes were red-rimmed, his cheeks were wet, but he was smiling β that real smile, the one he only gave you. "Be scared with me. We can be scared together."
You laughed β a real laugh, bright and warm, the kind that made his chest ache in the best way. Water was still spilled on the counter. The sun was still streaming through the window. Neither of you had eaten breakfast or brushed your teeth or done any of the normal morning things.
"I'd like that," you said.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
He kissed you again β soft this time, gentle, a promise.
And then he kissed you again.
And again.
And again.
His turn now. His choice. His lips on yours, over and over, like he was making up for lost time.
He didn't care about the water on the counter. He didn't care about the sun rising higher in the sky. He didn't care about the world waking up around them.
He had you.
That was all that mattered.
PART EIGHT: THE GROUP CHAT (EXTENDED)
EPILOGUE: FIVE MORE MINUTES
Later β much later β you were curled up on the couch again.
The same couch. The same blanket. The same hoodie (still his).
But this time, his arm was around you deliberately. This time, your hand was in his on purpose. This time, when your head drifted to his shoulder, he pressed a kiss to your hair instead of holding his breath.
"I love you," he said, just because he could.
You smiled against his neck. "I love you too."
"Hey."
"Yeah?"
"How long were you pretending to be asleep this morning?"
You went very still.
"Satoru-"
"Because I know you," he said, tilting his head to look at you. "And I know you're a light sleeper. There's no way you slept through my phone buzzing at 7:11 AM."
You buried your face in his neck. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Liar."
"Am not."
"Are too."
"Am β" You lifted your head, glaring at him with flushed cheeks. "Fine. I woke up when Shoko texted you the first time."
His eyes widened. "That was- that was at 7:11. That was like an hour before you 'woke up.'"
"Mmhmm."
"You were awake for anΒ hour?"
"I was comfortable."
"You were-" He stared at you. "You heard my heart pounding."
"Loud and clear."
"You felt me almost-" His face went red. "You knew I almost-"
"I knew you almost kissed me, yes. Twice, actually. Once in the middle of the night, and once that morning."
His mouth fell open. "You β both times?"
"Both times."
"Satoru-"
"I was waiting," you said softly. "I wanted to see if you'd actually do it."
"And when I didn't?"
You shrugged, a small smile playing on your lips. "I figured I'd give you until the kitchen."
"The-" He blinked. "You planned this?"
"I prefer 'manifested.'"
He stared at you for a long moment.
Then he laughed β a real laugh, bright and warm, the kind that made your chest ache in the best way.
"I love you," he said. "You're insane."
"You love it."
"I loveΒ you."
You smiled, leaning up to kiss his cheek. "I love you too. Now shut up and hold me."
"Yes ma'am."
He pulled you closer, wrapping both arms around you, and rested his cheek against your hair.
"Hey," you said after a moment.
"Yeah?"
"Five more minutes?"
He smiled into your hair.
"Five more minutes," he agreed.
But you both knew it was a lie.
It was never five minutes.
It was always forever.
A/N. THIS WAS SO PRECIOUS OEMJI !!! it took me so long to write this, but i am NOT complaining ππ
Plagiarism not authorized. Do not feed my work to AI. Feel free to req!! <3
OMG im... a dancing cat... my ability is to make others dance, I guess :0 I make people do the capoeira :0 but I'm like, THE capoeira cat, so I eat everyone up with my ginga π₯
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