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"assumptions" ℘

gojo fics | in honor of a situationship ending today i present you the better, fictional ending of what bs transpired

-> "fears" [pt. 2 to this]

satoru gojo x non-sorcerer! reader

Synopsis: You consider yourself to be a pretty understanding person, but when the guy you're seeing fails to properly communicate with you, you begin to spiral.

to sum it up: why can't satoru just text you back?!

WC: 7,693

Warning(s): some angst, ends in fluff

There is one thing in this world that you truly can not stand. One thing that drives you insane above all other pet peeves, one thing that you just can't seem to react calmly to every single time it is presented to you.

And that is lacking communication.

When you started seeing Satoru, you didn't expect much from him. Tall stature, ivory hair, dazzling sapphire eyes were only a few signifiers of his popularity with the female population, and unfortunately, with you as well.

You aren't quite sure how he roped you in. You'd known him long enough, been friends long enough to give it a little push, to entertain his flirtations just a little bit despite your gut screaming at you to turn the other way, to let him bother some other hopeless case.

But that look in his pretty eyes, the one soft and precious enough to make you give him a chance, the one that led you to subconsciously lower your guard as you gazed into authenticity rather than suave and arrogance for the very first time, is what made you give it a shot. After all, you decided, a few months of knowing someone is enough to have an idea of how they'd treat you on dates, how they'd handle you in a relationship.

And what you do primarily know about Gojo is not his occupation, which he brushes over rather frequently, and not his home life, but his wealth. The man is loaded. You can tell simply by glancing at the time piece wrapped around his taut wrist and the ridiculously overpriced sunglasses that he pulls down the bridge of his nose to wink at you. You know that, even if trying to get to know him romantically ends in disaster, that you'd at the very least get a good fucking date out of it.

But the problem is that it didn't end at just one good date. What you had assumed to be a little fling, a one time outing, a test of his confidence actually turned out to be one of the best dates you’d ever been on. Satoru's a gentleman, in an annoying kind of way. He'll sport that cheeky grin as he holds the door for you and leads you to the finest seat of the establishment, and he'll lounge back in his seat as he gazes at you fondly, lips curving into that devilish smile as the softest of compliments tumbles from them.

He calls you beautiful like it's the first time he's ever said it, and however skeptical you may be, you detect it. You hear it. You see the truth in his eyes, hear it in the stutter of his words that he attempts to hide with jokes and false suave. However pompous Satoru Gojo may be outside of this territory, he's humbled into a rather pathetic sap at your hand, and you... well you like it. You really do.

So you let it sweep you up just a little bit, easing the air as you laugh freely about work stories that he only listens to and does not share himself. And that is another thing that surprises you. He only wants to hear about you, to learn about you, to understand you and your functions and divert from any topic of himself.

You notice it. You've taken note of it ever since you've known him. You thought that going on a date with him would have reduced some of his mystery, but alas, he remains an enigma in your eyes. An overly sweet, rather playfully irritating, gorgeous enigma. Something in your gut tells you not to trust it, but the way your hand slips into his as the two of you stroll the city after dinner says otherwise - or at least says that you don't mind the mystique. That you can play pretend just for a little while.

He tells you he wants to see you again. That he's practically chomping at the bit to take you out once more. That he's got all these date ideas swimming around in his head that have been plaguing him since the very day that he met you. That befriending you has brightened his life, and you allowing him to court you has opened his eyes to the world's beauty even more.

Satoru is all dimpled grins and sweet nothings, and you hate that you love it. You slap him on the chest with a scoff of a laugh and shake your head, but he means every word he says. You know he does. You allow yourself to think he does. Because he doesn't want you to feel as though he's playing pretend. He wants you to feel alive the way you make him feel. He wants you to sink into the notion, and trust that someone like him could actually take care of you.

So you go home after your date and wait for him to text you, to respond to your message saying that you had a great time, that you want to do this again when he's free, but it remains unanswered for a day and a half. And the first seed of doubt implants itself into your gut.

He comes back the following night like nothing, responding as though he's answered you in minutes, expressing how much he enjoyed the night and shares your sentiments, and you text him back with a wrinkle in your brow that you try to brush off.

you | damn, late response lol

satoru | sorry sweetest most beautiful princess😩 work's been crazy, please don't be mad

And you try not to be. You try to be the understanding individual that you are, though he still doesn't clarify just what he does for work other than the fact that he works with kids and helps with their training. Training for what, you aren't sure, but you don't push it any further since he does not willingly offer up the information. Perhaps he's just guarded in that realm. Perhaps he signed some NDA. Hell, perhaps work really is digging into his free time. Even when you and Satoru became friends, he never texted all that often. You only are now noticing it because you've stepped into a different territory regarding your relationship, and your heart and mind have inflicted unwarranted expectations onto the man who so desperately wants to see you again.

You're annoyed, but you let it slide. The first time.

you | it's okay i understand, just lmk when you're busy or i'll think you died or something

satoru | that should be the least of your concerns, but noted!!! i'll do better.

And you schedule the next date, and unsurprisingly, your heart tugs into his direction even more. He takes you to an amusement park, something you vaguely mentioned in passing that you'd want to revisit because you rarely got to go as a kid. Hours of cotton candy, kettle corn, ferris wheel rides, and teddy bears later, he looks you in the eye and tells you how much he likes you - even with lingering sugar stuck to your shiny lips and your eyes reflecting the fireworks that burst overhead. He peers down at you with that soft gaze and gentle smile, cheeks warm and hair tossed by summer breeze, and you lean up on your tip toes to kiss him on the cheek before he walks you to the car.

Surely, you expect some more conversation when you send him a picture of you and the bear he won from that carnie cuddled up in bed together that night, but once more, a day and a half passes, and he pops in out of the blue, responding like no time has passed again.

You feel yourself growing aggravated, but it's early, you tell yourself. He said he was busy with work, and it was nearing the end of the week, so you grant him that grace. You try your damndest to shovel down the doubts that begin to rise and focus on your own job, attempting to burrow the thoughts of him that begin to swarm your mind at the worst of times.

Then he calls you another day later, and you answer rather flatly.

"Hello."

"Hiii beautiful," Satoru sings into the phone. "What are you up to this weekend? Care to grace me with your presence?"

And his voice, so silky and playful, almost makes you forget your frustrations now that you're actually speaking to him. Almost. "Maybeee," you sigh.

"Uh oh. What's wrong? You hate me now?"

"No, I don't hate you. Stop saying that."

"Then what's wrong? You sound kinda... tired."

You rub your temple as you try to find the words. "Is everything okay with work? You've been really distant."

There's a slight pause. "Have I?" he questions as though he is genuinely confused by the sentiment. "I'm sorry, I honestly didn't realize. I'm not a good texter. You could ask my coworkers. I suck."

"It's fine. I know you're busy - it's just... I mean, could I ask what your intentions are with me?"

"Sure you can."

"...Well, what are they? Is this just a fling... or-"

"God, I hope not!" he chuckles, a hint of nervousness in his tone. "Why... is that what you want?"

"No. I just... if it's what you want then..."

"It's not," Satoru says earnestly. "I like you. I want to keep seeing you and only you. Seriously."

"So not like a fling?"

"Not at all like a fling."

"Okay..."

"Do you want that too? To keep dating me seriously?"

"...Yeah. Maybe," your cheeks flush.

Satoru takes the opportunity to lighten the mood and runs with it. "Maybe?? You tryin' to give me a heart attack?"

You snort. "You're dramatic."

"Only about you, pretty girl."

You close your eyes and exhale slowly. "Then... if we're being serious about this... I really don't care if you're busy. I promise I don't. But I get really weird about communication... and I'd prefer it if you told me beforehand when you'd be busy so I'm not expecting a text from you. Because... you really do respond late as hell. I know that's nothing new, but now that we're seeing each other... I just want more clarification. Is that... something you could do?"

He's silent for a moment, pensive, you think. "Of course it is, (Y/n)," he finally says, the humor leaving his voice. "I know you already mentioned that. I'm really sorry. My job is just - I don't have a lot of free time and things tend to slip my mind."

You store those words in a vault. You slip his mind? Does that mean he isn't thinking about you enough to care to reach out?

You try not to let the thought swallow you, and remain present in his words.

"Those kids must have you running ragged, huh?" you try to joke yourself, hoping for an opening to learn more.

"Like you wouldn't believe," he murmurs. "I'll tell you more about it some other time. Don't wanna bore you with the details."

"You could never bore me..." you trail off.

You hear a smile return. "You like me, huh?"

"Shut the fuck up."

Satoru laughs loudly, and you hate the way your lips twitch to smile as you duck your head and try to force it away. "So mean," he whines. "You could never bore me either, for the record. And I really am sorry about my texting. I get distracted easily."

You roll your eyes, heart pounding in your ears. "Yeah, yeah."

"...Soooo, this weekend?"

"I'm free, you idiot."

And this weekend, he takes you to the fucking opera. Why? God only knows, but he tells you to dress pretty and that he'll pick you up adorned in a dark tux, and the only thing you can think about as you sit on the balcony with those binoculars you've only seen in Pretty Woman is that this man knows exactly how to make you feel like royalty, as long as he's physically with you.

His hand grazes the small of your back and when you turn to look at him with the glitter of your dangly earrings shining against your (s/c) skin, and an awed smile stretched from ear to ear during intermission, he melts. And you do too.

And you decide, in that very moment, that the opera is your new favorite place to visit.

"I've never done that before."

Your head snaps into Satoru's direction as he waits for the valet to bring his car around after the show, hand around your waist, his cologne clinging to your fabrics. "Done what?" you ask softly, your head still light from the amazement you witnessed in the form of grand voices that tugged at the strings of your heart.

He looks down at you, lids low. "Gone to the opera."

You furrow your brows, though smiling. "What?" you laugh. "Then why'd you take me?"

He shrugs. "Thought we could experience something new together," he says. "You also said once that your mom used to play a lot of Puccini, so. I don't know. Thought it'd be cool."

Your eyes slim though your heart soars. "Do you even know who Puccini is?"

"He's an opera singer."

You cackle. "He's an opera composer."

"Oh. Well, same thing."

"You're insane," you giggle, holding your abdomen as Satoru's hand glides up the silk of your back.

"Didn't seem so insane when you were crying during the last thirty minutes."

"Hey, I didn't say it wasn't good!" you finally calm down, looking back up at him. You sigh out. "It was really beautiful. I can't believe you took us here off a whim though."

"But you liked it, right?" he smiles with the tilt of his head.

You purse your lips as your cheeks glow with warmth. "I loved it."

His smile warms. "Then my job is done." The atmosphere thickens as he pulls back slightly to lift a hand to the side of your face, slender fingertips gently brushing at something under your eye. You blink, holding his gaze as his hand hesitantly settles upon your cheek, thumb caressing your flushed skin. "Eyelash," he mumbles, voice dipping.

You hardly hear him, the lights of the theatre aglow around you as your faces inches further toward one another. Satoru's bright eyes have grown heavy and serious, pupils swollen with the image of you as the distance between your lips shrinks.

"Was it really an eyelash?" you whisper as he looks over your face contently, completely swept up in you.

"No," he says.

And the distance closes. Your lips meet. His arms encircle you, and you can not go back.

You forget that he doesn't tell you about work like he said he would. You forget that his communication when the two of you aren't physically together is not ideal. You forget it all, and let him kiss you like you mean something to him, and let come inside with you when he drives you home as though he's promised himself to you.

You wake up the next morning to an empty bed and a text saying that he had to run much to his chagrin. But it's Sunday. No ordinary person works on a Sunday, so, rather abruptly, his sound excuse crumbles, and you are left with the empty imprint of his body in your sheets where he held you close.

You text him back expressing how much you enjoyed the night, and like always, nothing comes in return.

You elect to wash the sheets.

The assumptions come flooding into your mind as you busy yourself with cleaning the space after the two of you had left it in such a wreck. He couldn't even bother to straighten up on his way out.

Is he married? Does he have any kids? A secret family? Is he fucking other women behind your back and trying to hide it? Is he even employed?

The possibilities wreck your brain as time passes, and every second he does not respond weighs down on your shoulders, as you begin to think that this was all just a trap - that he successfully baited you into sleeping with him. Using false promises, pretty dates, and his charm to weasel his way into your body, pretending to be enamoured with you as he held eye contact through every second, as he talked you through every second, as he swore to do right by you every second he was inside of you.

And now he's gone. A memory that has tinged itself in resentment with the setting of the sun and his sheer lack of reply. You think of calling him, but you decide that would look desperate. You think of telling him off, but decide that would look too hasty.

You try to understand. Desperately you do, but how can you when you are left high and dry every single time he leaves your presence? How can you when he doesn't bother to think of you when you aren't around? How can you when he doesn't even have the decency to let you know that he's okay? To tell you the truth if he's hiding something? To be up front if he's kept secrets?

You don't do well with lack of communication. Even if he's a bad texter, your mind does not jump to that simple solution. In the absence of words, your mind jumps into overdrive. You conjure up the worst possible solutions, the most outrageous notions, and you stew in them until you get answers.

So that night before bed, you double text.

you | hey... you good? what did you have to go do?

And you wait with your phone clutched in trembling hands for a text that does not come. So you put his messages on mute, turn over, and try to sleep.

But your heart wails for its capture, as you realize you're falling for someone who can't even text you back. Your dreams are haunted by your anxieties, by the thought of him running off to his family, by the thought of him texting other women, by the thought of him hiding something monumental from you.

Because that is something that you know for certain, that he is protecting something with his life. Whether it is good or bad, you do not know, but you doubt that you will access it any time soon.

The next morning you get up early to go grab a cup of coffee. Your texts remain unanswered, despite having muted his messages, so to drown your irritation, you take a walk to the nearest coffee shop.

On your way out however, you see him. Clad in a dark blindfold that spikes his fluffy hair upward, the same hair that your fingers were entwined in two nights prior, and a strange black uniform adorning his entire body.

But next to him... next to him is a brunette woman with a cigarette hanging out of her mouth and heavy, yet entrancing circles tracing under her eyes. They walk closely beside one another. She says something. Satoru laughs. And your heart shatters.

She’s beautiful.

Not only did Satoru refuse to answer your text, but he refused to because he was busy with another woman.

And when you look down, that stupid phone of his is clutched in his hand.

You consider yourself to be a reasonable woman. You always try to exercise patience, to see all sides of a situation even if it makes you uncomfortable, to not act with your emotions first but with empathy, for you never know what other people may have going on in their lives.

Satoru told you he'd try, but weeks have passed, and his communication remains the same. And it's not because he's busy, but because he merely does not want to speak to you. Because his time is occupied by another bitch, who he probably ran off to the second he was done fucking you.

Anger bubbles in your gut. You knew it. You knew something was wrong. You knew that someone like him couldn't possibly be loyal to you. You knew that it was all too good to be true, that his silence answered for something he refused to name.

Now you see it. And against your better judgment, against your carefully exercised patience, against your logic, you steep in red. You're hurt, you're embarrassed, you're betrayed.

So instead of trying to understand, you let all of your insecurities and doubts pile up and explode, using them as a justification for what you see. You toss your overpriced coffee to the ground, it splatters at your feet, and you march across the street with steam rising from your head to save you from tears.

Satoru seems to sense you when you are halfway to him, and his laughter dies down. His face drops, and he turns to you in shock, or what you assume to be shock, as you aren't entirely sure due to the blindfold hiding his eyes.

The brunette's eyes float to you after Satoru's attention diverts, and she blinks cluelessly as you stomp toward him.

"(Y/n)!" he starts in surprise, but the very sound of his voice only infuriates you.

"Don't you fucking (Y/n) me. What the fuck is your problem?" you jab your index finger toward him. The brunette's eyes widen slightly, and she slowly looks up to Satoru as if she's caught a child getting in trouble.

Satoru stammers, hands raising at your foreign, accusatory tone. "What are y-"

"You just fuck me after a date and then disappear again? Like you fucking always do?" you shout. The brunette's hand goes to her mouth, but you doubt she's uncomfortable. In fact, it almost looks like she's enjoying this.

It pisses you off.

Satoru's cheeks flush red as he glances over at the woman frantically, then back down at you. "(Y/n), can we talk about this somewhere else?"

"No! No, we can't talk about it somewhere else! Have I not told you a hundred times that I need better communication if this is gonna work? Every time you tell me you'll get better, that you're sorry, but nothing fucking changes! I don't know why the hell I thought it would change after you had sex with me!" you pause to chuckle cynically. "That's fucking hilarious! What the hell was I thinking? That you'd suddenly be loyal to me because you called me pretty and took me out three times? Christ, I'm a fucking idiot!"

Satoru tries to take a step closer. "You're not an idiot," he reaches for you, but you swat his hand away. He reels, stepping back as though you've burned him with clamped, wobbly lips.

"Don't fucking touch me. You can't use me anymore. I won't let you. I'm done. I told you how I feel about this shit, and you've ignored me every single time. I don't wanna talk to someone who doesn't take me seriously and who lies about it."

"But I do take you seriously," he pleads. "I told you, I do-"

"If you did, you would have responded. You would have called. You wouldn't let me initiate damn near every single conversation. You'd hear me when I express something to you," you fume, tears building in your eyes. "How am I supposed to trust you if you can't even do that? If you won't even tell me what you do for work? If you're clearly able to pick up the phone, but not for me? If you're actively with another woman while I wait for you to fucking reply days later?"

The brunette raises her hand slowly, lazily, hesitant to interrupt. "Sorry, but," she starts, and your eyes snap to her heatedly. "I'm his-"

"I don't give a fuck what you are, okay?" you interrupt. Her hand falls and she nods, rather unintimidated. "I'm done. Hear me? Done. Lose my fucking number."

With that, you turn over your shoulder and march back off across the street, leaving Satoru and the brunette to reel in the aftermath of your outburst.

Satoru blinks, watching you retreat with his heart weighing down in his chest. A lump of shame builds in his throat, and he remains rigid as if he is still being yelled at.

"So," Shoko starts awkwardly. "That was her?"

"Yep, that was... that was her," he finally says, dejectedly.

There's a beat.

"You fucked her then left her on delivered?"

"Shoko," Satoru whines, turning to her with a slump in his dejected posture. "Please don't start, you just watched the woman I'm crazy about stomp on my heart and leave it on the pavement to get shit on."

"Okay well, if you're so crazy about her, why haven't you texted her back?"

The ivory haired sorcerer sighs. "Because I'm in too deep."

"Clearly you already were."

"That's not what I-" he glares with a pout at her innuendo, but Shoko looks up at him boredly, expectantly. Satoru groans. "Because I'm a sorcerer and she's not, and the kind of life I live isn't meant for her."

"Then why pursue her in the first place?"

"I couldn't help it," he ducks his head, scratching the nape of his neck. "She's sweet, she's smart, she's... she's strong, and so pretty. I’m obsessed with her," he shakes his head. "And you know Gakuganji's been sending me on all these stupid ass missions back to back too. He knows I'm gettin' distracted. Between that, and Yuji, and... I just don't wanna hurt her."

"Eh. Too late for that."

"You're not helping," he groans. "I'm serious. What if she becomes a target because I'm around her too much? What if she finds out what I do and thinks I'm crazy?"

"If you like her as much as you say you do, then... I don't know. Just be honest. Just go for it."

"And put her in danger?"

"There's always danger with you around, Satoru. Why should it matter if it means you can be happy?"

Satoru purses his lips. "It matters 'cause I'm not just some sorcerer. It matters because she could get killed."

"Is she worth it?"

He looks off into the direction you stormed off in and his heart aches at the thought of losing you this way. "Yeah," he frowns.

"Then protect her. She’s not gonna get hurt with you around."

Satoru turns back to look at his close friend, hooking a finger under his blindfold to peer at her with his icy gaze. "Why are you telling me that?"

Shoko sighs. "'Cause I haven't seen you this happy since Suguru died," she says rather casually, as if the very statement did not send memories flashing rapidly through Satoru's brain. "That and I like her."

"You like her?" Satoru squints his eyes. "You just met her, and she yelled at the both of us."

"Yeah, it was nice to see a woman give you her ass to kiss," she says flatly.

Satoru deflates, lowering his blindfold back over his eyes with a sorrowful exhale. "...It was kinda hot, right?"

"For the love of god. Go fucking text her, moron."

He will, for what you don't know is that every time he leaves you, he sticks around in secret to make sure you get to your destination safely as he watches from afar, six eyes detailing your every move. What you don't know is that during every mission, he stares at the contact picture he's saved of you mid-laugh, your eyes scrunched tight and all pretty teeth of yours on display, just to get him through the day. What you don't know is how he babbles about you, the amazing, gorgeous woman he's seeing that everyone at work thinks is fake, every single chance that he gets, hearts fluttering in his eyes at the mere thought of you, his constant babble in front of his students making them all want to gag.

What you don't know is how silently he yearns for you when he forces himself not to respond, when the fears of what could happen to you as a result of others trying to get to him stop his fingers from clicking the keys. When the higher ups barely allow him a moment to breathe as he teleports between countries long enough for days to slip into nights, and he's only back in time to realize that another day has gone by without him reaching out to you, texting you, hearing your pretty voice, seeing your pretty face.

What you don't know is the toll that his occupation takes on him. What you don't know is who he really is to the world, and how hard it is to balance having feelings for you with taking care of the entire planet.

But you are worth it. He pictures your sleeping form curled into his chest, your makeup smeared and your hair messy, and your heart peacefully pattering against his skin. His heart clenches.

You're so worth it.

"Shoko, tell Yaga I'm taking the day off."

"Ummm, sure, but he's not gonna - " Before she can finish, he's vanished into thin air, and she rolls her eyes. " - like it," she eventually trails off, pulling out her phone and continuing her walk.

You're at the door of your house, trembling with anger, when you feel a strange breeze pick up behind you, and when you turn around, you find Satoru standing there behind you in all of his six something glory.

You jump with a yelp. "How the fuck did you just - what the hell?!"

"Sorry. I'm sorry, pretty. Hey," he reaches for his blindfold and yanks it off. You watch as snowy hair falls back down to frame his face as he tucks the fabric into his pocket to look at you clearly, see you can see him. The pain in his eyes, the regret, the desperation, and you watch with knitted brows, red eyes, and a deep frown. He hates the sight on your face. "I'm sorry. For everything. I'm so sorry."

"Satoru, how did you - " you look around, still confused as to how he just appeared behind you like that, but then you remember your rage. "Whatever. Go away, I don't want to talk to you."

You go to reach for your door handle, but he grabs your hand. You yank it away, turning hotly on your heel to glare up at him. He holds his hands up in defense.

"(Y/n), please. I'm sorry. Just let me explain. You had every right to say what you said back there, but - "

"Damn right I did. You're a liar, Satoru."

"Okay, I'm not a liar. I've never been a liar."

"Then what do you call what I just saw? You were out with another woman! You told me that you were only seeing me!"

"I am only seeing you! That was Shoko, Shoko is my coworker!"

"Your-" you stop yourself, staring hard into his eyes as if trying to read if he's telling the truth. "Your coworker? She's your coworker who you were walking around with on a Monday morning while actively ignoring my texts? And you still won't even tell me where you work! How am I supposed to believe you?"

"Because, (Y/n), I swear to you that she has never been anything but a friend and peer to me. We went to high school together. We work at the same place."

"Which is?"

"I - " he hesitates. "I can't... tell you like this. It's not - it's hard to explain."

"Sure it is," you scoff. "Goodbye, Satoru."

"(Y/n), please," the sapphire eyed sorcerer begs, and he panics the moment your keys jam into the lock and your hand grips that handle tight. He panics, images of Suguru turning his back to him flickering through his head, years of loneliness flashing by, then you. You and your smile, you and your laughter, you and your sunshine that he's somehow turned to rain.

He can't lose you. Not to this. Not to any other threat.

"(Y/n)," he calls you, and when you still don't answer as you push open your front door, the words blurt out. "I'm a sorcerer."

You freeze. Satoru's heart drops to his stomach, his eyes wide, and you slowly turn over your shoulder. "You're what?"

The ivory haired man gulps. "I'm..." he gets lost in your harsh eyes, and all logic fails him. "I'm... that's what I do. I'm a... sorcerer."

You watch him, befuddled. "What the hell is a sorcerer? Like - like DND?"

"Kind of...?"

Your shoulders slump, and you stare at Satoru with a quirked brow. "Are you shitting me? Now you're gonna tell me you have a made-up job?"

"It's not made up," Satoru's voice dips into something more serious.

"Oh really? Then what the hell does a 'sorcerer' do?"

Satoru looks into your innocent eyes and sighs as he prepares to warp your perception of what is real and what is not. He hates to do this to you. He really does, but a woman like you deserves his truth. The good, the bad, the ugly. As long as you'll take him. It's a risk he's willing to take.

Suguru would have had his fucking head for doing something like this.

Your eyes go wide, as the man that was once in front of you completely disappears from sight. Your head jerks back, your eyes darting about the vacant space, and you breathe out a gasp of confusion. Are you hallucinating? Are you going crazy?

You step away from your door, which is now ajar, looking all around you like you've lost your mind, and for a moment you think you have.

"I'm here, pretty."

You rip your body around with lightning speed, shoulders bunched to your ears as you stare wildly at the vision of Satoru now halfway through your doorway. You're frozen with something between stun and fear, and you stumble back, dazed. You look behind you, then turn to face him again as he steps forward. "You - you - how did - you just - "

"I know," Satoru exhales, dimple poking his cheek as his mouth twists to the side. "I know. I'm sorry. That was probably really weird."

"Satoru," you murmur lowly. "How the hell did you just do that?"

"I'm a sorcerer," he says again, like it means something, like it could make any of this make sense. "Certain things I'm able to just do."

"You teleported?"

"Mhm," he finally is able to approach you in your state of shock, monitoring your rapid heartbeat and your doe-like eyes. "I do... a lot of other things, but I - I don't want to overwhelm you."

Your hands fly to your head. "What the fuck," you breathe out, looking up and down his frame. "I must be - dreaming or something - "

"You're not. I'm real. This is real."

You shake your head. "It can't be."

Satoru presses his lips together, watching you carefully as he holds his hand out to you. "Try to touch me."

You scrunch your nose. "What?"

"Just try it."

Against your better judgment, you do. You inch a finger toward him slowly only to meet an invisible wall that blocks you from coming in contact with his open palm. Your brows knit, and you attempt to touch him again, but to no avail. You poke and poke, then slap a hand against the shield, before ripping away. "Ohhh, what the fuck," you murmur under your breath. “What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck.”

"(Y/n), listen. C'mere. Please."

Satoru rushes around you as you turn to mull over what you've just witnessed, dropping his infinity the moment he's holding your gaze again. His hands fly to hold your shoulders, keeping you steady in your stupor. You look down at the hands holding you, wondering how he can touch you now. "Listen, okay? Please, please don't be scared."

"I'm not - scared, I'm fucking confused!"

"I know, baby. I know. And I'll try my best to explain everything, but listen, it's really dangerous that I'm telling you and showing you this, alright? You gotta promise me you won't tell anyone."

You squint your eyes. "Who would I-?"

"Just promise me," he says sternly. For the first time, you see Satoru as he is, firm, a force, a being to be reckoned with. Someone to take seriously. You stare up at him, dumbfounded. "Promise, okay? I don't want you getting hurt."

"...But how - "

"Please, (Y/n). Promise me."

You see the same truth in his eyes that first brought you to him, and you slowly relax as best as you can. "I promise."

Satoru exhales a breath he did not realize he was holding. "Good. Thank you." You nod mutely, still completely awed. Satoru notices and takes the opportunity to continue now that he's got you like this. Now that you'll hear him. "(Y/n), I really like you. I really, really do."

"...What does that have to do with - "

"I like everything about you. I like every moment we spend together. I like holding your hand, and kissing you, and feeling you, and the hardest thing I ever had to do was leave you alone yesterday morning to go to work. My job is... it's hard to explain, but I do work with kids. And I do train them... to become sorcerers. To become strong like me. That may not mean anything to you right now, but it's my life. My whole entire life, and because I am who I am, everyone expects a lot from me, you understand? Every day I have to drop what I'm doing to take care of really fucked up things, and I'm really sorry that I've left you hanging in the process. I'm really, so sorry, princess. I know I said I'd get better with communicating, but it's not really easy to tell the girl you're seeing that I had to go to Italy to exorcise thirty curses - "

"What?"

"Nothing. It doesn't matter. What matters is you. What matters is that I made you feel unheard and tossed aside because I was too scared of putting you in harm's way, or because I literally have no time to myself. The time I do have, I spend with you. And then it's all over so soon and I leave you hating me because I can't be there for you like a normal man. I so badly want to be that for you, but I'm just not. And I'm sorry. I should've found more time, I should've communicated, I should've done anything to make you feel safe but I just did the opposite. And I'll hate myself forever for doing that to you because you… because I just care about you so much. And I don't ever want to make you feel the way I have ever again."

Silence swallows you whole after Satoru has ceased his rant. You can feel his fingers lightly digging into your shoulders, eager for you to say anything in return, but you just stare at him in awe, overwhelmed, so so confused... but somehow relieved.

Satoru's brows curl upward. "Please say something. Anything. Say you hate me. Or you think I'm crazy - do you think I'm crazy?"

Your lips part, your eyes glassy. "A little," you say honestly. Satoru bows his head in humiliation. "...But... I think... I believe you."

He perks up immediately, big blue eyes blown wide with hope. "You do?"

"For some reason, yeah. Yeah I do," you swallow hard, still processing. "So that woman-"

"Shoko."

"Shoko. She's also a...?"

"A sorcerer. Yeah. We were going to pick up our kids from a mission."

"Your... kids?"

"Students! Our students!" he clarifies.

"...And you have powers...? That you teach the students? At a sorcery school?"

"...Kind of…?"

"And you teleport. And have an invisible forcefield."

Satoru tries not to laugh as you wrap your mind around the concept. "I mean... that's kind of what it is. Yeah."

“O-Okay… so, what else can sorcerers do?"

"We're not all the same. Everyone has their own technique."

"Technique?"

"Like a power."

"Oh. Then what's yours?"

Satoru smiles warmly. "Let's not worry about all the details right now," he chuckles. "I just wanna worry about you. Okay? Are you okay?"

You nod stiffly. "Yes. Yeah. I'm just... sorry. I'm sorry."

The reality of everything comes crashing down on you, but surprisingly, not what Satoru has just unveiled, but rather what you said to him on the street earlier. The scene you caused. The accusations you threw. The assumptions you made. How out of character you got.

"Oh Jesus," you groaned, bringing a hand to your head. "You really don't know what people have going on in their lives."

"(Y/n)? You sure you're okay?"

The kindest, most concerned blue eyes follow your every move as secure palms hold you, and you deflate. "I'm fine. I'm sorry. I just realized I cussed you out for no reason. I'm so sorry."

Satoru blinks. "You're not... mad about the sorcerer thing?"

"I mean, I'm still fucking confused, but no... I feel awful that I ripped you apart like that in front of your coworker. Oh god, and I snapped at her. Satoru, I'm really sorry. I had no idea."

"(Y/n)

," he calls your name gently. "How could you have known?" You go to answer, but you can think of no response. "I'm the one who kept you in the dark. I'm the one who hid this from you. I'm the one with a secret identity. You have no reason to apologize to me. I deserved it. From where you stand, you couldn't have possibly known."

"But now I do, and I... I mean, I knew you were hiding something, but... I should've paid more attention?"

"To what?" he chuckles. "I hid this from you every day. There's nothing you could have noticed."

"I notice how tired you are sometimes," you say softly. "I notice how quick you are to take care of everything. To pay, to splurge. Like it's your responsibility."

"That is my responsibility."

"But you do it like you're... trying to be seen... or I don't know.... appreciated," you say, and Satoru's smile slowly fades. "But I appreciate you without all that flashy stuff. And now I understand... you must be a really big deal where you come from. You must have a lot of pressure on you."

You have absolutely no idea.

But he doesn't even bother to confirm or deny. For once, he's happy to hear how a human being perceives him. "I don't know, I should've realized how much you have on your plate instead of constantly thinking about how you could make me feel better. I mean yeah, it sucked not hearing from you, but now that I - I know some shit like sorcery exists, the texting thing doesn't really seem like all that big of an issue. And I really am sorry I yelled at you like that. I swear, I'm not always like that. I just really like you, and when I feel like I haven't been heard or seen, I freak out and jump to the worst-"

You feel hands cup your face and draw you upward, and your eyes go wide as those soft lips press to yours passionately. You hum in shock before sinking into the warmth that you desperately longed to feel again. Your hands go to hold his wrists as you reach up on your tip toes, and his lips slowly mold against yours in three, prolonged smacks.

He pulls away, and you bat the cloudiness away from your eyes as you look up into his own. Satoru beams down at you with a love struck grin, cheeks rosy and pupils blown, snowy lashes low over his irises. He ducks back down to kiss your forehead, and your heart thrums.

"I just told you that I'm a sorcerer, and all you can think about is how you made me feel?" he murmurs sweetly. "What did I do to deserve you?"

"I didn't - do anything?" you say slowly.

"You did," he smiles, skin creasing at the corners of his eyes. "I understand why you yelled, (Y/n). I deserved it. And honestly... I kinda liked it."

You can't help the snort you let out. "You what?"

"I liked that you stood up for yourself. That you don't take any crap. You know your worth. And you should. You're perfect."

"You freak," you push at his chest so that he releases you. His hands fall to his sides, yet his love dazed expression remains as he looks at you. "You're insane."

"I know," he agrees happily. "I really like you."

You gnaw on the inside of your cheek, fighting your smile. "I really like you too," you admit. "But you're a fucking weirdo. Teleporting and shit. What the fuck is that?"

"I know," he says again. "You don't even know the half of it, sweetheart. It gets a lot weirder."

You scrunch your face. "Do I wanna know?"

He shrugs. "Do you? I got all the time in the world."

"I thought you were busy. Don't you have to go to work?"

"Mmmmm, I took off."

"You can do that?"

"Not really. But I'm the big shot around there, so they can't really do shit about it." You look at him skeptically and he grins. "Enoughhh, today's about you, and repairing the damage I've done. So ask me all the questions you want. I'm here. I promise."

You pucker your lips in thought. "No more shitty texting?"

"No more shitty texting. For real real this time."

You turn and gaze at your ajar front door. "Alright. Come inside. I've got two hours before my shift."

You can hardly get your sentence out before he's scooping you up bridal style into his arms and marching you through the threshold of your front door. You squeal, gripping onto his shoulders tight. He kicks the door closed behind you and looks down at you with a devious, heavy haze in his eyes.

"Plenty of time."

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