“Suguru Geto,” Nobara spits the name like it’s acid on her tongue. Yuji tilts his head, sits up straight, interest piqued “who?”
Fuck. Gojo hates this part of his job.
Nobara leans forward, pauses for a second, savouring the suspense she has Yuji hanging in before letting out a stage whisper “the worlds worst ever curse user.” Yuji’s reaction would be a source of amusement for Gojo, if the topic had been anything else.
His eyes bulge and he shoves himself closer leaning over the table into Norbara’s space, the red-head’s eye twitches as she places a finger on his temple shoving the invader back a few inches before continuing “apparently he went batshit…”
Gojo tries to drown the conversation out, tries to focus on the case in his lap, the ink on the page, but some words still slip through.
“Deranged”
Gojo bites his lip. Hears that voice, that deep, beautiful voice that would say his name in a way that was so soft, so gentle, so fucking tender, that remembering the loss of it feels like something picking at the stitches of his bloody soul. Satoru.
“Psychotic”
He winces, feels the ghost of a hand pressing little circles into the base of his neck, soothing sore muscles. Hears the gentle chiding, the “I don’t care if you’re the strongest, you still need to stretch, you moron.” He used to melt in those hands.
“Evil”
His fist clenches, he sees Suguru grinning wide, sweets in one hand, the other steadying a bike. Feels the phantom kiss at his temple, hears their combined laughter as they shift their weight, bodies pressed impossibly close, to keep from toppling.
And god he’s desperate to counter the kids.
Desperate to scream ‘you didn’t fucking know him.’
Desperate to tell them that Suguru Geto, the worlds worst, was his best.
His best friend, his better, his one and only, the love of his miserable life.
But he can’t.
Instead, he waits as the next line hits like a knife to the gut.
“Guess who killed him!” Nobara grins, eyes flicking briefly over to their sensei.
Yuji stares at her, catches the hint quick and beams “Gojo sensei!” they both turn to him Nobara nodding confirmation.
And it fucking hurts, the excitement, the pride, the awe in their voices.
Guess who killed him. Those words make him want to reach inside himself, to rip into his own skin and claw at the remnants of his tattered heart.
He turns away, clenches his teeth, tastes copper and says nothing as that cheerful statement reverberates through his brain.
Guess who killed him.
Stop.
Guess who killed him.
Stop.
Guess who killed him.
Stop.
He shoves himself up abruptly, ignoring his confused students, throws the door open, and strides down the hall, then right out into the rain.
Saturo.
Turns his head skywards, let’s the rain in, let’s it trail his cheeks, let’s it mask his pain. Suguru.
