" Get a load of this guy. "
" I'm your senpai, you're my kouhai. "
genre: 13+, a tad bit of swearing, no inappropriate stuff right now, genuinely just dorkiness and banters.
“ Get a load of this guy. “
was what circled through your mind all day, constant, nonstop, endless, eternal, ramming. The thought especially intensified whenever said guy got around you. You didn’t need to turn around and let your gaze rake over him, or have your eyes marinate on his face to recognise who he was. You could sense him away from a mile. Uncoordinated, loud stomps? The most arrogant, the loudest laugh? The huffing and snickering through the nose, the smell of blue soda candy and whip cream.
you always thought hating somebody would be like putting them in the back of your mind and letting them wander around while you focus on yourself and don’t give any shit about what they do or what they like. but no,
that wasn’t the case. cause for you, he was in the front row of your mind. when you sleep, when you’re awake, when you’re far, when you’re close, he’s ALWAYS there. and he makes sure that he is.
“ You’re not allowed to be laying on the road like this. You could be run over, you know. “ His fingers pinch and press against the empty candy wrapper inside his pocket, the sound itching your ear.
“ Shut UP, Gojo! “ You whip your head up from the concrete, facing his face with the most comical scowl ever. You wince at the pain it brings you to bring your head up and face him. And you return to whimpering on the ground. Your forearms grind against the tough land, fingers reaching up to graze over the bleeding maroon-coloured wound on your forehead.
Gojo stands there, bringing his sunglasses down towards the bridge of his nose and lowers it to see a better view of your pouty figure sprawled on the empty road of a neighbourhood. You both initially came here to defeat a special graded curse.
And you so happened to get flung mid-air while Gojo held you up when he levitated.
“ There’s no way you’re crying over this, “ He snickers, his pearly whites flashing the most ANNOYING grin ever. And you attempt to point at him and scream at his face, but doing so would have brought out a grimace and a wince. You look down at the shadow you make with your head, and you actually bite down onto your bottom lip and shut your eyes, careful not to make a squeak or the smallest cry. Otherwise, another stupid laugh from him comes out.
What felt like an hour was just minutes, and you manage to actually get up and rub dirt on your grazed knees and ignore the sharp pain on your forehead. You limp behind Gojo, drinking a can of pop from the vending machine he bought when you were secretly crying beneath your arms.
“ You’re weak. It’s boring. “
“ Shut UP! “ Another cuss comes out of your mouth, and you grit your teeth. You can’t count how many times you’ve said this to him. And you’re convinced it’s part of your daily vocabulary list now. You’re even sure you’ve said it once in your sleep.
“ It’s just the truth. You cry over a graze. You give into the kouhai-crybaby stereotypes. That gives me a bad image, considering the fact I basically babysit you on missions. “
He sips on the lip of the can, and his head cocks upward to stare at the sun before he jerks it to the side to crack a few joints. For once, you don’t interrupt and scream a
“ SHUT UP, GOJO! “ You actually listen, and that makes you frown.
“ Hm? You’re arrogant for a senpai. You give into the senpai-dick stereotype. That gives the school a bad image, you know. Considerin— “
“ Nah, I’m the strongest. “
He purses his lips unamusedly, and you frown at the back of his head. You’re hoping for a sledge hammer to magically appear on the ground now. Just oooonnneee smack on the back of his head and BAM!
“ And you’re the weakest. “
“ Alright, what’s with the ugly face? “
Shoko Iieri asks, she asks as if she doesn’t want to ask, and she takes some pressure off your knees with her fingers as if she’s preparing for something.
“ Satoru, FREAKING, Gojo! “
You basically roar and your hand balls up into a fist, hard enough to dig your fingernails into your palm and make it bleed. You smack it hard against your forehead before you let out a shriek, forgetting the wound on there.
“ He— He called me weak! No, worse. THE WEAKEST! Can you believe that, Shoko? And, and, and he said I gave into the kouhai-crybaby stereotype, what does THAT even mean? “
Shoko stares at you blankly, lips pursed and eyebrows barely even raised. What’s this look? Is she agreeing with him? And why are your eyes watering?
“ Did.. Hey, you said ugly face. Are you calling me ugly? You did, right? “
You murmured underneath your breath, recalling her words. You turn to the side and purse your lips, bottom lip jutting out before you yelp at the agonising pain from Shoko’s sudden fingers on your bruised knee.
“ You have to stop putting so much negativity in that kid, she’s crying constantly during physiotherapy. It’s getting old and it’s starting to bother me that I have to buy packs of tissue before she comes in. “
Shoko mumbles, sticking a cigarette in between her puckered lips, fingers struggling to get her lighter out of her tight, barely-there pocket. The azure-coloured lighter flickers and clicks twice before it eventually lights up the butt.
Satoru’s head dangles over the head of the chair, making the legs swing back and forth, cuddling the back with fingers caressing the wood.
“ That’s boring. Negativity’s needed. It’s what’s good for kids these days, some sorcerers just need to know when they need to quit, like her. “
He retorts and his pale cheek squishes against the head, face bare with his glasses off. His soft white hair trickles over his own skin. His head turns to the side, gaze raking over Suguru sitting the same way he is, and his finger reaches out to prod his cheek out of boredom.
“ You act as if she’d leave. She has more motivation than anybody else to prove she’s more than what you say she is. “
Suguru bats away Satoru’s irritating butt-smelling finger as he argues. He stares at it with the curl of his lips and a nose scrunch.
“ Man, do you wash your han— “
Satoru cocks his head backwards.
“ HA! She’s not more than a stinking, crybaby, weak, weird, short, overly-motivated kouhai. “
He almost laughs at Suguru’s words and he smacks the back of the chair. Smoke flows within the empty classroom, and gets sucked out through the windows. Smells like tobacco.
“ If I were her, I’d leave because you’re a dick. “
Shoko puffs smoke out her nose and shakes her head with an amused smirk. Satoru, despite being the aim of the joke, he snickers to himself. Suguru does too.
It wasn’t a lie that you weren’t a crybaby. You, kind of were. It wasn’t the type of crybaby where you’d cry over a cockroach entering the room. But you’d sob over words that nobody really meant. Which is what gained you the title “ Kouhai Crybaby “ among the third years.
Which is why you hated Gojo so much.
Apparently, the school was holding a sister school event with the Kyoto Jujutsu School. A football game. You recall playing that once or twice during school. It should be fun.
You dunk your face in the sink of the poop-smelling toilet, curled fingers on the side, gripping the edges before they come up to rub on your cheeks. You look up towards your reflection, and you grab a sheet of tissue besides you before patting your face dry.
You wonder who your teammates will be. This year’s students aren’t good at all in terms of football. But you guess they’ll do just—
Fine. Woah. FINE. FINE AS HELL!
You shriek at the person towering over you, and it’s no other than Suguru Geto. Chiseled jawline and beautiful slanted eyes with the best tan skin. Black long locks of hair, his scent coming up to greet your nostrils beautifully. Beautiful.
You regain your composure and tuck your locks of hair behind your ears with a flushed face before you hear the scoff beside you. Ugh, and it’s no other than Satoru Gojo, the ugliest albino freakish-looking monkey you’ve ever seen.
Immediately, your doe, batting eyes become squinted and menacing. He walks towards Geto casually and slings an arm over his shoulder.
“ What are YOU doing here? “
Your nose scrunches at the sight. And you want to get on your tippy toes to yell and make menacing glares back and forth but that’s too embarrassing, considering you’re in front of beautiful Geto.
“ I should be asking YOU that, cwybwaby. “
“ Oh har har, that nickname again, so funny, Gojo. “
“ You know, it’s time you start adding ‘ Senpai ‘ after my name and give me more respect. Act like the kouhai you’re suppo— “
Suguru shuts him up with a push of the palm against his lips and he smiles down at you.
“ Sorry. About him. He can’t help himself. “
He snickers to himself at that, and Gojo yanks Geto’s hand away from his lips.
“ Yeah, I’m used to it. What’s— What’s uh, what’s up. You seem like you have something to say. “
You grin sheepishly, fingers fiddling with each other and you want to ignore Satoru’s azure-coloured eyes piercing through you. Somehow, it seems even more suffocating and embarrassing to speak in front of Gojo.
A blush sprawls over your cheeks and you ALSO ignore how Satoru’s eyes squint harder at the exact moment. You almost squeal at the way Geto leans towards you and smiles like that.
“ So, uh, actually. Both me and Gojo consid— “
“ Yeah, yap, yappa, yappa, yappa. “
Gojo yanks the back of his t-shirt and steps in front, icy gaze raking over you, towering over your figure completely.
“ He just wanted to say that I’m too overpowered and skilled to be babysitting a clumsy, lame excuse of a Jujutsu sorcerer, and wants him, instead, to take my place. “
Your lips pop open and part, before you shut your eyes slowly and pump your fist. He notices it and slaps the top of your head.
“ Oi, what are you getting excited for, crybaby? “
