I recommend rereading the previous chapter(s) because even I forgot some details...1000000% my bad for not finishing this up sooner. (More on this in notes at the end).
Okay I'd say the romantic scenes are like...16+? just to give it a rating. But lowkey some YA novels I read in middle/early high school were a lot more 'racey' than this hahah.
It’s dark, darker than the back of your eyelids. It’s silent. You can’t even hear the buzz of your thoughts—as if your mind is reflecting the emptiness in front of it. The blackness before you—the void, you suppose—is all you can see, hear, touch. Or maybe it’s that there is the absence of these senses—there is only darkness, only nothingness.
You can’t think, only observe, so when a bright light inundates your senses, sears itself into the back of your brain, you don’t gasp or feel fear. There is nothing to do but to take in the light, to be drawn to it like a moth to a flame, and accept whatever it brings you.
Memories pour over you as you are blinded by the light, dripping into crevices of your mind that you forgot existed. It’s almost painful, this influx of distant memories and feelings, rhythmic waves which crash into you over and over again.
All you can pick out of these memories as they spill into your brain all at once is a pair of luminescent eyes—they burn brighter than you ever realized. They follow your form more than you remember. Even behind shades, you can feel the intensity of them on your body. You sneak glances at them at every turn and get lost in them even when he isn’t facing you. You never knew how obvious you both were.
You never realized how much emotion he held in his gaze. He knew all the time, and yet you were clueless about your own feelings until just months ago. How ironic, how cruel...
Your eyes fly open. Reality slowly fills your senses. There's a gentle brush of wind from the open window; you scrunch your nose as strands of your hair tickle your face. When you look down, your gaze is drawn to the wash of orange and peach on the comforter cast from the dying sun. You're warm—cozy, even. You feel comfortable and safe—safer than you’ve felt in a long time, a feeling that blankets you with warmth and coaxes a smile out of you.
You blink blearily, sleep sticking to your eyes despite your attempt to rub the crud away. The ceiling finally comes into focus, and you vaguely recognize that it doesn't look like your own.
"Finally awake, sweets?"
For a second, you're startled by the inrush of sound and words, but then your brain catches up. The voice carries that familiar teasing lilt, that smirk that even comes through in his voice, the words rounded with softness just for you, it must be—
Your eyes go wide as you scramble up. "Satoru!"
"So I really didn't have to kiss you for you to wake up? Boooo! All those fairy tales are a real drag, lying to me like that."
Your gaze goes straight to him, taking in his appearance with a quiet desperation. Many dormant thoughts from right before you lost consciousness surge back into your mind: he had been harmed while trying to escape with you? Was he distressed by what happened? Was it all too much for him?
But, to your observation, he looks as he always does. There's no sign of injury or emotional distress. You should've known, really; with everything he's gone through in his life, he isn't easily affected. Or at least, not outwardly. His little smirk, his tousled hair, his lax demeanor—from a quick glance, he's the same as always. He doesn't appear worried or stressed with his easy expression—you don't know if you should be relieved or unnerved by that. Is what you see the truth or just a façade?
He has a chair pulled up to your bedside—taken from the desk on the other side of the room, you note—and he sits relaxed in it. He sinks into the chair lazily and he has one leg crossed over the other.
“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” He sing-songs. “Or should I say good evening?”
He shifts slightly, now resting his jaw in one open hand, which outlines his sharp jawline. His head is tilted to the side, making him appear almost coy. It must be a ruse, of course—when did Gojo Satoru ever feel shy?
Seeing as it's only him and you're in no danger, you huff out in relief, "You startled me!"
"Did I? Sorry." He chuckles, even though he doesn't sound particularly sorry. It's then that you notice he's wearing his bandages again. The white strips conceal his expressive eyes and all the emotions they could possibly contain. A hazy flash of his eyes spilling with tears crosses your mind, leaving you to wonder if that was reality or just your imagination. Your memories are fuzzy, lacking clarity that would reveal the truth.
Observing him now, it almost seems impossible that he could have cried like that for you. He appears so normal that it's almost frightening. With his practiced and controlled body language, you're only able to wonder at what he's feeling.
You want to ask him so many questions, but they all feel trapped inside your chest. There's so much that you don't know—there are so many things that could have happened after you lost consciousness. With how deceptively easy his smile is, you hesitate. Or maybe it's because, deep down, you don't want to know the answers.
But you should. You should know. No, you need to know, if the monstrous, looming question needling your brain and heart means anything. If you don't get this question out, the hurt and uncertainty will only fester.
"What happened with Suguru?"
His smile evens out slowly, expression morphing into something solemn and unreadable.
"Always asking the difficult questions first..." He says, tone ambiguous and revealing close to nothing. "You just woke up. Why don't we... talk about something else? I promise we'll get to everything later. Just give it some time—Shoko said you should try to take it easy when you first wake up."
There's a painful lump in your throat. You want to argue that can't possibly be what she meant, but when the room starts to spin, blurring in your peripherals, you find he might have a point. Besides, there's the reality that it's easier not to know, that you don't want to know.
"How do you feel?" He asks, as if sensing your inner turmoil, but you don't know if he's referring to your physical or mental state.
Without the answer to your question, you're okay. It's strange, but you don't feel scared despite what happened. If anything, you feel lighter and happier than you have in a long time. He's here, after all. And so you relent easily, with little resistance. You'll play in the world of pretend for a bit if it means he'll smile, if it means you'll feel okay.
"I'm fine," You say honestly, with a small smile. "Just a bit sore, if anything."
When you're met with silence, you glance over at him, noticing that his serious look has not faded. Maybe you weren't so convincing. You quickly redirect your attention to your surroundings, not wanting to be caught in your thoughts.
“Isn’t this…” You take in the room, ignoring how sore and tired your eyes are. “Your place?”
Now that you're sat up, you recognize it immediately, even with its less than distinct features. His room is plain, plainer than most would anticipate. For someone so loaded, his bedroom screams basic minimalist—white with black accents, just a few pieces of furniture, and muted decor. It’s nice, because of course it is with his budget, but not over the top like his personality would suggest.
“Hah, you noticed, huh? Perceptive as always, angel,” He says with a hint of playful sarcasm, and you’re surprised when the teasing quality disappears and his tone turns meek. “You haven’t been here in a while, wasn’t sure if…”
He trails off, laughing oddly, some real emotion leaking out. He almost seems nervous.
“If I’d remember? What, do you think I’m a goldfish or something?” You roll your eyes playfully. “Satoru, I’ve been here many times. Even though I haven’t been here in a while, that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t remember.”
“Don't get your panties in a twist! Of course I knew you'd remember! I was just kidding," He claims, but he seems relieved.
"Hmm, sure," You say with narrowed eyes. "By the way, why am I here? Not that I mind or anything, but..."
"Ah. You mean instead of your apartment?"
"Or the infirmary," You add.
"Well, you were in the infirmary. Then you got better and Shoko needed an extra bed, so she kicked us out. And as for your apartment...it isn't in any condition to be lived in for now."
You frown and whine, "Hey! I'm not that messy!"
He hangs his head and sighs, "Angel, that's really not what I meant. There are other things that need to be cleaned up there."
"Oh," You say, finally remembering the gruesome scene you must have left.
"Yeah. 'Oh'," He mimics back.
He almost seems annoyed—at what, you can't be sure. The fact that you forgot or the fact that it happened? Or was it that you kept it all a secret for so long?
You shake your head slightly as if to rid yourself of these unpleasant thoughts. Then you process some of his words from earlier, displacing the negative thoughts.
"Wait, wait. What do you mean Shoko kicked 'us' out?"
He scratches his head sheepishly. "Did I say that? I meant you. Haha..."
You chuckle and slap your leg, thoroughly amused by the scenario you're picturing. "I see what happened here! Shoko got annoyed that you were hanging around all day today and needed some way to get rid of you. She literally sent you home, didn't she?
There's a pause. He looks down at his hands and lets out a small, breathy laugh. There's something sharp about it, bitter perhaps. His fingers are twitching. His reaction jars you slightly, veering from the upbeat, nonchalant character he's kept up so far.
"Today, huh?" He murmurs under his breath, too soft for you to pick up. Then he speaks loud enough for you to hear, "Something like that."
His words aren't too far off what they usually are, but his smile and light tone have been washed away.
"Did I say something wrong?" You ask carefully. "Is everything okay?"
He barks out a laugh right away. It's a harsher sound than it usually would be, full of disbelief as if he couldn't believe you just asked him that.
"After everything you just went through, you're asking me if everything's okay?"
You hesitate but persist. "...Yes? Can I not ask?"
He exhales loudly, his frustration and concern boiling over. His expression is neutral, but you don't miss the hard set in his jaw or the way he twitches from the tension of steeling his expression. His face hardens as if he's trying to hold back, but it doesn't last much long. As you closely watch his expression, you see the hairline fractures in his mask begin to spiderweb into something irreparable, to reveal a part of himself he can't take back. His heart is on his sleeve, and you greedily take it all in.
"You can, but— you seem fine and it's confusing me. I'm supposed to be strong for you and just get over it, but I can't see past the fact that I still don't understand what the fuck is going on. Everyone except Shoko was acting like everything was fine and normal before but now it— it's like they're not even surprised. How is it that I'm the most shocked? Even you, who this happened to..."
As he speaks, his words get more agitated and emotion seeps into his voice. He trails off at the end, leaving you to wonder what exactly he thinks of your reaction.
"You...feel that way?" You ask honestly, surprised by his admission. Based on his appearance and how he carries himself, most would be shocked. And even though you suspected something was brewing underneath his carefully crafted mask, even you didn't anticipate this.
"Yes! I just...this is strange, everything is. And even though it all happened to you, you're acting so okay and have been since I first saw you again. Do you know how much I—"
He takes a sharp breath as his emotions boil his insides. His throat tightens and the next words don't come out, won't come out, even though he wants to articulate how he's been driven mad with worry for you, that he's been falling apart while your life hung in the balance of fate. And yet he can't; the words won't come.
You dip your head in shame. It's not difficult to fill in the words he might have said, but you don't attempt to.
"Well, I guess it's like...I've been living like this for a while. But you only just learned of my Hanahaki disease and had to deal with it right away," You explain quietly. "I've had a while to process it, y'know? But for you, of course it would be hard to believe..."
While you speak, his face twitches as he reacts to your words, hardening and then grimacing. He sets his mouth in a firm line before he speaks.
"It's not just that. You've been sitting on so many secrets and I had absolutely no idea about any of them. And hell, based on my actions it seems like I didn't care to know, and I hate that. I can't be upset with you, and I'm not, but- just the entire situation...I can't stop feeling so...frustrated."
"...I understand," You say softly. "It wasn't right of me to hide it for so long...and if it had ended any differently, you'd be burdened with guilt even though it wouldn't have been your fault. Obviously, I was not in the right state of mind, but that doesn't make it right."
"That's not what I mean. You had every right to do what you did. I don't blame you," He says, then sighs. "Honestly, I've...been thinking. A lot."
Your heart drops. His tone is different than you've ever heard before. There's some mysterious emotion you detect but can't identify, and your mind starts to run wild to diagnose it. Is it irritation? Doubt? Regret?
"Thinking?" You echo back nervously. "That's dangerous for you."
Your joke falls flat; it doesn't so much as coax a smile or even an acknowledgement from him. That only makes you more nervous.
"I've been thinking about how this all happened, how fucked up it is that it was able to happen. I never imagined this situation, not in a million years. I've spent so long running from my feelings that I never imagined we’d reach this point. But how it happened..."
His meaning sinks in, even though he only alludes to your shared confession, as if it would burn him to speak those words again. You understand what he means: right now, you should both be happy. You both confessed after years of misunderstanding and yearning. But when you look to him, scouring his face for answers, all you can notice are the down-turned corners of his mouth. He doesn't look happy.
You think back to previous disagreements you’ve had. No matter what was said, it always ended up the same: his back facing you, his form receding into the distance. You were always able to eventually pull him back to you, but the image of his back has never left your mind. Is this the time where you lose your grip on your tie to him, the time where he finally disappears into the horizon?
Your thoughts bleed into your mouth without permission.
“Are you walking away?” You ask quietly before you can stop yourself.
“What?”
The word is pushed out of his lungs with so much speed and air that he has to take a breath immediately after. It has a sharp edge of something akin to anger, which you did not expect.
Suddenly, you feel very silly. You realize you just jumped to massive conclusions, because of course you have. You know this, you know you're not being rational, and yet your doubt persists.
You stutter, scrambling for words that seem to vanish just as you think them.
“You seem– I mean, what you just said...I’m sorry, I don’t know, it's just…you seem so hesitant and conflicted. It should have been a moment happy, right? But it was all fucked up and was forced on you...if you didn't do what you did, I would have–agh, fuck. I know I’m probably being stupid, but…if you’ve changed your mind, I-I can live with that—actually, no, that’s a lie, this whole situation proved I can’t—”
A choked laugh escapes between the fingers you’ve thrown to your mouth. It’s ridiculous how you’re laughing about your mortality—your life that was hanging on by a thread, a thread that was somehow woven back into existence.
“I mean I can’t change how you feel, obviously, and if you want to walk away then I can’t stop you, I’ll leave you with a nice bouquet at least—”
You hesitantly move your gaze over to him. He’s pale and his hands grip the sides of the chair tightly.
“Sorry.” You whisper out once you see his expression.
You thought he might find some humor in it—after all, he is practically the king of levity. Almost any situation that should be taken seriously and treated carefully and with respect is disregarded by him. And yet there is not a hint of a smile on his face now; you were sorely wrong in your assumption.
“No more of those," He shakes his head as he speaks, as if that will wipe away the images of your near lifeless body from his mind. "Please no more. To be honest…it really destroyed me, to see you like that.”
His words shake you to your core, alarm vibrating through your body. It destroyed him?
Your brain begins to connect dots you don't want to connect: the purpose of inducing your illness...the purpose of using you as bait. If seeing you like that almost broke him, was that the purpose?
You brush away these horrifying thoughts as best as you can, trying to delay the inevitable for as long as possible. You don't want to know, you don't want to know. You're suddenly grateful that Gojo didn't answer your question earlier.
So you sit silently as your features scrunch with guilt. To hear him practically beg you tugs at your heart painfully.
"You really think I want to walk away?" He asks quietly, vulnerably.
Your mouth opens and closes as you consider what to say, which words to pick out. None of them sit right on your tongue.
"No, I mean...I don't know. I forced this on you, so–"
"You didn't," He raises his head towards you, and you can imagine his gaze falling on you. "I don't want you thinking that. You didn't, okay? You should have never gotten sick in the first place. If only I came to terms with my feelings sooner...It didn't have to happen like this, and I'm so sorry that it did."
The tension in your body begins to dissolve as it dawns on you that he doesn't regret his actions, only the situation that induced them. And yet, it still rubs you the wrong way that he blames himself.
"It still feels wrong..." You frown. "Like it was some shitty last resort. Either you reciprocate my feelings or I die. Like, how manipulative is that?"
"Manipulative? You're seriously worried about that? Some people might call that romantic," Gojo scoffs playfully.
"I'm being serious!" You pout.
Irritatingly, he smiles sweetly. "So am I!"
"Nuh-uh, I don't believe you. What do you really think?"
He falls quiet, but his smiles stays. That persistent smile, or really smirk, that stretches across his face no matter the situation. It's just part of his show, of his ever-present façade. And yet...
"Hah... You're the only one who ever cares to know."
You roll your eyes at his dramatics. "That can't be true."
He raises his eyebrows slightly, and you feel his piercing gaze without even needing to see his eyes. His tone is light again, but his insinuation isn't.
"Do you think Yaga and the higher-ups really care about what I think? They only listen to me because they're scared of me. And when it comes to my...feelings...do you really think anyone thinks of that? It's like I don't have any."
You shake your head stubbornly. "Not to me."
He laughs softly, "Yeah, I know sweets. I've never had anyone challenge me about them the way you do."
"Well, how else am I to know?" You ask meekly, slightly embarrassed. "I know you have them, you just...don't speak on them unless I wrangle them out of you!"
He chuckles, "Sure."
"It's true! You still haven't really told me what you honestly think about... everything. There's got to be more."
He sighs, but you can tell he's amused at your insistence. "You really want to know?"
You nod earnestly.
"It's probably pretty pathetic."
"Then be pathetic," You say, perfectly serious. "You think I'll judge? After I pitied myself terribly for weeks for—I guess now—no reason?"
Your gaze is sharp and features hardened with determination, and yet all Gojo can think is how soft you are. Your eyes are bright, full of affection and hope and something else he doesn't dare put a name to, even though you already confessed it to him. He feels so fucking pathetic for the way he doesn't allow himself to feel your love even when it's sitting right in front of him. He feels so pathetic for the way he's been avoiding saying those three words again, for how the words get stuck in his throat and don't let his true emotions pass through.
He steels himself, trying not to ignore how the words echo through his mind like have they have been this entire conversation.
"I've always thought that l-...lo..." He swallows, his face burning red with shame that he can't even utter that word. "Love is a curse. Because isn't it? It almost... it almost killed you. You were closer to ...death then, than I'd ever seen you. And yet, in some fucking twisted way, maybe I needed that push. If that didn't happen...would I have ever told you?"
Each time he references your near-death state, his face crumples as if he's trying to hold back tears. It's then you realize that he doesn't allow himself to cry in front of you, or maybe in front of anyone.
"It's like the universe forced me to finally confess, after all these years. And still...still it's so hard to-" He sighs, brow furrowing in frustration. "To say what I mean. To say what I really want to say. It's kind of pathetic, isn't it?"
You smile softly and turn the hand closest to him so that your palm faces the ceiling. It skates over the sheets until it reaches over in his direction, enough so that he notices but not so far that he would feel obligated—it's for him to take or leave.
In another moment, you would burst out laughing at how absurdly fast he rushes forward to take it. But in this moment in time, you let your heart sing and your body feel warm everywhere.
For Satoru, this physical connection to you has significantly lowered his barriers. His mask slips even more, his persona waning in a way that makes him feel so exposed. Feeling you again makes him keenly aware of everything he almost lost.
"Actions speak louder than words. Didn't you come for me?"
"I was almost too late," He insists, voice cracking. "You were almost too far gone."
"But you came, and I'm here with you now. Everyone has their struggles, Satoru. Everyone. And it's not like I was brave enough to tell you, either."
He sighs, a shuddering sound you're not familiar with coming from him. "I don't feel like I'm supposed to have weaknesses like this."
"You're human," You say softly. "At the end of the day, we're all just human. You, me, and everyone else."
His face softens and his thumb absently traces the back of your hand.
"But I want to. I want to tell you everything, everything that...everything that I feel about you. I've always felt so much for you. There's so much I want to tell you, but..." He swallows. "It all gets stuck."
Your stomach flutters at his words. Now you feel so silly for asking him if he was going to walk away, because you feel all of his words so deeply. He's so sincere that it makes your heart skip a beat, knowing he thinks and has thought of you like this for a long time. You even feel giddy at his words, despite the situation.
"And that's okay. Do you think I can't feel that from you by now?" You reassure. "You don't even need to say anything. You never have."
Satoru shakes his head with some amusement, a small smile forming on his lips. He sighs and regards you with a disbelieving expression, as if he can’t believe your words. "God, the bar is in hell."
You can't help but erupt into laughter. "Satoru! Hey! You're ruining the momeeent!"
"Sorry," He smiles, and then his tone dips into something that has your insides stirring. "Am I really? Should I make it up to you, then?”
He leans over the edge of the bed more, and you're suddenly aware of how close he is to you. His elbows rest on the top of the mattress, near your thigh, and his head rests in his hands. He's looking up at you—you can just tell—and you feel jittery under his invisible yet ever-present gaze.
There's electricity in the air: the underlying tension has heightened, and even the brush of his hand against yours has your breath hitching. Your eyes fall to his lips—they look so soft, and such a pretty pale pink, and look so inviting—
Your eyes snap back to the rest of his face once you realize what you were doing. Your face is burning and you hope you weren't caught, but unfortunately it seems that may have been the case.
He rises from his seat slowly, with control, and sits on the edge of the bed. Wanting to be closer, you instinctively start to sit up fully, but you surprise at a gentle push at your shoulders, reducing you to resting on your elbows.
"Eager, are we?" He grins. "Did you forget that you're supposed to be resting?"
"Ugh! You– ! Shut up! I wasn't trying to do anything!" You say indignantly.
"Mmm, doesn't mean I can't though, right?" He says. "Like you said, actions speak louder than words..."
He pauses a few inches from your face. One of his hands gently brushes against your jaw and cheek while the other slides down your neck, causing you to tremble under his touch. He's clearly enjoying every second of this.
"Your face is warm, sweets."
"Shut up! No it's not!" You groan and cover your face with your hands, not able to bear the embarrassment. In the process, you brush his roaming hands away.
"Aww, don't do that," He coos, but isn't able to keep the laughter out of his voice. "Who said it was a bad thing?"
"Don't tease me," You whine, but slowly release your hands from your face.
"But I've missed it so muchhh," He sighs dramatically. "I've been deprived."
You deadpan. "That's your own doing."
"Harsh, sweetheart!" He winces. "But it's the truth, isn't it? I intend to make it up to you...make up for lost time."
The distance between you shrinks further. Your proximity is dizzying, unfamiliar and heart-racing and daunting and yet also so safe. A safe space carved out of nothing, comfort from the cold and unforgiving world you live in.
His fingers are on your face again, gently framing your jaw and chin, as if steadying you, as if he's going to...
"This is what I most regret not doing that day," He admits quietly.
"What do you mean?" You ask dumbly, thoughts muddled by this heat between you, as if you don't know exactly what he's doing.
"Before you fell unconscious," He says. "While you were...'in limbo', as Shoko put it, I wondered if I would ever be able to..."
Your heart beats quickly in your chest, making your breathing shallow. He leans in, fingers ghosting over your features and causing your eyes to flutter shut. You feel butterflies flitting around in your stomach; you're full of nerves, but also brimming with desire and yearning.
You gasp softly when his lips meet yours. Your hands immediately get lost his hair, fingers tugging gently on his soft strands. He kisses you deeply, so passionately that you fall back completely in surprise. It brings him down with you, but one of his arms frames your head and is the only thing that kept his body from collapsing onto yours.
"...to kiss you like this." He finishes breathlessly.
You thought he might make a joke about you falling for him, or about you wanting to be under him, but he allows the moment to be what it is. Intimate, close, vulnerable.
You circle your arms around his neck, pulling him down while you rise you, you closing the gap this time. Feelings that laid undisturbed for years now pour out all at once and you can't seem to catch your breath—or maybe that's because you don't want to let go of this moment.
You pull away slowly, hesitantly, your eyes never leaving his face. But something is missing.
You wordlessly reach for his bandages with tentative fingers. You tug at them gently, allowing time for him to protest, but he doesn't. He lets you take away the last protection he has, to peel away the last barrier to his emotions.
Your eyes begin to sting once the bandages fall away. A surge of emotions run through you, and you can't suppress your smile at the sight of his eyes at last. You have often compared them to the gems aquamarine and sapphire, but they shine brighter and more brilliantly than any jewel. You want to cry just looking at them—his glittering eyes that are consumed by emotion, full of affection and warmth and love, so much love.
"I love you." You whisper, reflecting what you see, overcome with emotion.
You're not expecting anything back, and truthfully you don't need any words to know his feelings. The emotion shimmering in his kaleidoscopic eyes is enough. You've never observed them this closely before, or for so long, and with each passing second their beauty intensifies.
He lowers himself a few inches lower yet, so close you can practically feel the warmth radiating from him.
It's soft and watery, but you hear it clear as day. "And I love you."
You can't contain yourself. You shoot up, tackling him into a hug, so enthusiastic and so unlike yourself that you can't help but giggle. This is something he might do, is what crosses your mind. Only he can make you act on your feelings like this. You embrace him tightly and unintentionally bear your whole weight onto him. You even end up audibly squishing the breath out of him.
"Mmph! For someone who just woke up from a coma, you're pretty...energetic," He says, voice slightly strained from your actions, but he's laughing. "Always full of surprises. You're adorable, y'know that?"
"Nope, so I guess you'll have to tell me again, then!" You stick out your tongue. You untangle yourself and sit up, and he follows ensuite. You begin to splutter out a protest when you lifts you and drags you to the headboard, propping you up against it so that you're not straining yourself. He murmurs something about 'how you shouldn't even be sitting up'. You feel warm at how easily he handles your weight.
"I have a lot of things to tell you," He says sincerely, arms still around you as he settles you against the back of the bed. "But I guess I can start with that. You're adorable, sweets."
You sigh, ruminating on his words even though you know he didn't mean them to be serious.
"Hah...I'm having too much fun, aren't I? For all of the things I still don't know."
"You can have as much fun as you like," He counters. "After everything...it feels important, doesn't it?"
You chuckle. "Okay, Mr. Sap. Next you're going to tell me to 'make memories, not excuses' and 'live, laugh, love' or some shit."
He playfully glares at you. "I was being serious! And I don't sound like that! All I meant was...you deserve to be happy. That's all."
He turns his head to look away, cheeks reddening as if expecting you to poke fun at him again.
Feeling bad for laughing now, you gently grasp his chin and turn him back towards you. "Thank you, Satoru. I didn't mean to laugh, and I meant what I said...I am happy, but I'm also ignorant. Is that really true happiness?"
Your words hang in the air, lingering on your conscience longer than you'd like to admit. You need to know.
"That's pretty philosophical," He says after a few moments, clearly caught off guard by your sudden seriousness.
"Maybe. But it's also true. I want to know everything..." You sigh. "Well, I do and I don't. I've been dreading it all since I woke up."
"We have time," He protests, eyes searching your expression. It almost sounds like a plead, and you realize the truth will be just as difficult for him to address, if not moreso. "We have so much time, sweets. All the time in the world."
"Not when I feel like this," You frown.
You see a flash of panic in his eyes. "Like what? Are you in pain anywhere?"
You wince at the misunderstanding. "No, no! I'm fine. Sorry, bad wording, that's not what I meant. I just meant that I'm going to feel unsettled until I know. It's like... I feel the truth in my bones, but I don't actually know it yet. I don't know if I even want to know, but I don't think it'll go away until you tell me...until you confirm it....does that make sense?"
He comes closer, as if sensing your need for touch. You lean into him, your head nestling into his chest.
"I know. It does."
"I don't really want to know...but I should. I should know."
He sighs, and it's tinged with exhaustion. "I know, sweets."
"You know what I want to know, don't you?" You ask, but it feels unnecessary. "What I asked you earlier..."
He doesn't answer, not needing to. He knows you'll ask, knows that you'll put the words out into the world.
"Satoru...he's gone, isn't he?"
You're met with a suffocating silence. You can barely breathe; it feels like time has stopped, it feels like those few words used up all the air in the room. The pressure hangs in the air like a spell waiting to be broken, crushing your lungs. In this moment, you feel like you'll never breathe the same way again.
The truth is uttered quietly in a weak voice. "Yes, he is."
Time resumes. Air enters your lungs, proving you wrong.
At the confirmation, the truth you felt in your gut now feels like a rock, sinking down and down and down, the truth making your dread coming to a height but also grounding you. And then suddenly everything clicks, synapses that long laid dormant now sparking and flooding your brain with information. Your eyes widen, focus going in and out.
You came to him. You made a deal unlike any other before it. You sealed your own death in stone, trading it with both of theirs.
This surge of understanding has disturbed your reality. You are stricken with shock: you remember. You remember everything. How you sought Geto out knowing that only one could remain in this world, believing Gojo could never go through with it. Geto's painfully innocent smile as he threatened and manipulated you, the sympathy he expressed that made you believe in Satoru's apparent indifference, planting a seed for your disease; everything.
There's only one reason you would be able to remember. Your head feels like it could explode, even though you knew it all along. Everything you tried to prevent still happened anyway; the curse fulfilled itself despite all your efforts. Everything was for naught.
Gojo watches your reaction closely, bracing you against him as if you're going to fall apart if he doesn't. You think there might be some truth to that.
"You remember now, don't you?" Gojo asks quietly, as if he can read your mind. "The Binding Vow..."
"Why?" You cry out, even though you know why, your voice sounding all too loud compared to Satoru's. "After everything...Fuck, that's all I ever wanted to avoid! That's why I did everything I did. That's why..."
You hike your knees into your chest, trying not to let out the tears that begin to form. You feel his touch immediately, you feel the guilt that radiates through his hands that try to soothe you.
"Fuck. It wasn't supposed to be like this. It wasn't meant to...I tried to stop it...Nobody was supposed to die..."
"You know that's not true," He pulls back to look at you directly, blue eyes burning into yours. "I don't know exactly what deal you made, but I know that's not true. You can't just say that, not when it almost cost you your life. Do you really hold no value to your life?"
His words hit you like a punch to the gut, and you're vaguely aware that he's angry. Angry that you risked your life for him, even though you know he'd do the same for you. But more than his anger, you sense the root of it: his unadulterated fear that you feel in his trembling grasp on you, see in his wide eyes.
"Do you really think that would have solved everything? That he would have kept his word?"
Guilt curdles in your stomach, but you also feel a rush of defensiveness. It's not like the choice you made was for fun; all you thought of was protecting him.
"It was a Binding Vow, Satoru. You kind of have to keep your word." You argue snarkily, but it sounds stupid even to your ears.
"Only about what is actually discussed. Unless you laid down conditions about every little thing...there are ways around everything."
Well, you can't argue with that. The vow was hastily taken when you were younger and more naive. You were desperate and blind to all of the holes in your plan.
You slowly raise your head, cogs still turning. "Satoru...how do you even know about the vow? Even I forgot. I couldn't have told anyone."
He chuckles darkly, "Geto wasn't exactly trying to keep it a secret. Yaga heard about it, and I'm pretty sure the higher-ups knew too. Ever wondered why you kept going on so many misinformed missions? They were trying to get rid of you, thinking you made some heinous deal with Geto. And of course Geto knew that would happen. I never- I never thought Suguru would go so far...I should have finished him off a long time ago."
"Satoru!" You're truly shocked by his words. Is this really the same man who bawled into your shoulder after Yaga and the higher-ups ordered him to carry out Suguru's execution? There's a reason you made the dire choice you did; he was incapable of carrying it out, and you feared for the worst.
Your eyes search his for the truth, and you find it. The dark glint in his eyes overshadows any past affection he had for his former friend. But there's more to it: the protective grip he has on you, the way his hands run up and down your sides as if reassuring himself that you're really there...
"He was fucking evil at the end. What he did to you..." His voice is weak. "I couldn't look past that. After all our years together, I can't believe he would go so far for his own agenda."
"But-" I didn't want him to die. I didn't want you to kill him.
He sees the doubt in your eyes. "Angel, there's no way. No way I couldn't have done what I did. You have no idea what you looked like...What he put you through..."
You glance down at yourself, frowning. Your brows crease in confusion. Sure, you had felt pretty bad, but you still survived. It's not like he actually did anything to you, just let the disease run its course. Okay, so you were maybe the closest to death you've ever been before, but you'd seen other sorcerers in worse condition who had made a full recovery after. And you woke up after all, didn't you?
"I mean, I know Shoko presumably fixed me up, but I don't feel too bad now."
Gojo sighs. "Do you know what day it is?"
You hesitate, thinking. It was Wednesday night when you were kidnapped. "Uh, it should be Thursday, right?"
"It's Monday."
He watches the realization sink in as you grow unusually quiet and withdrawn. Your mortality feels so fragile suddenly. His reaction makes sense.
"I've been holding my breath this whole weekend just hoping you'd pull through. Shoko didn't even know if you'd wake up at all. You almost died, and Suguru was banking on it. You almost fucking died, angel. You were on the brink, and...I couldn't handle it."
You look down at yourself again. Now that you look closer, you look sickly—horrible, really. Your skin has lost the luster it used to have and your nails are brittle and cracked. Your hair is thinner than it used to be, too, and its usual shine has been diminished into something dull and lifeless. You were almost lifeless.
"Bet I still look like shit, huh?" You chuckle weakly.
Gojo goes still, expression turning stony. Although he doesn’t say anything, it’s all over his face that he’s holding back strong words at your half-assed, dismissive response.
You sigh, “Sorry. I shouldn’t just…brush it off. I know I was in deep shit. But at the same time, I had already accepted it. It sounds bad, but…I was expecting it from the first flower. Deep down I truly thought I was going to die.”
"You almost did."
You wince, guilt flooding you.
You slowly grab his hands and look up into his eyes, trying not to shy away from his probing gaze. "I know, but I didn't. I got myself into such a mess, and somehow you were able to get me out of it. Somehow, you saved me from it all, Satoru."
There's a pause, and then...
"Well, I am the strongest for a reason."
And there he goes, turning your serious conversation into something rather unserious.
"Would you stop with that?!" You pout, holding up a pillow and miming hitting him with it.
He laughs and wraps his arm around you, easily giving him the leverage he needs to pull the pillow from your grasp.
"I'm so sorry, angel, please forgive me!" He shouts desperately, making you giggle. "But you shouldn't be trying to hit your knight in shining armor, should you?"
He shakes you a bit to emphasize his 'desperation' and frowns like a kicked puppy. You huff, trying to seem annoyed, but his behavior pulls a smile from you. You can't possibly stay mad at him while he's pouting like this.
A long moment of peaceful silence stretches out, a piece of bliss that is soon stolen away.
“Do you hate him?”
You look up into his crystal eyes, searching them. You didn't expect him to ask you that, and so suddenly at that. “Suguru?”
He nods.
“…I don’t know. He tried to use me as a pawn, to sacrifice my life to try to get you to break. To force you to be on his side. Considering that, he didn’t have any regard for our well-being anymore…I never wished any bad on him, and yet it seems that’s all he had planned for us. Bad things, cruel things. I was his pawn, you were his queen he wanted to capture.”
“...Queen?”
You laugh, spluttering in embarrassment, “W-well, the queen really has all the power in chess! I was just thinking the queen is the one who can actually do things and stuff, I don’t know, just leave me alone! I’m bedridden and you’re interrogating me on my terminology! Maybe you’re the cruel one, Satoru.”
"No, no," He half-smiles, and it's bittersweet. "He definitely was. To take you away from me—no, to take away your life—that's really the only way I can imagine myself breaking. I didn't know it for a while, but Suguru was truly cunning and calculating.”
He pauses for a moment, and as you look into his eyes you can see his conflicting emotions swirling in them. Deep down, he still cared for Suguru. That’s why it hurt.
He chuckles, shaking his head, “It's funny—that's who I thought I was. Everyone always thought Suguru was an angel with a perfect moral compass who could do no wrong...or at least I did. But it turns out that you're the only angel here. My angel."
“Har har,” You roll your eyes. “And next you’re going to tell me I made a deal with the devil.”
“You practically did,” He grimaces. “That’s really not too far off.”
“Maybe, but…” You sigh. “Somehow, it’s still hard to hate him. He used to be so kind, and his smile was so gentle. Maybe in another life, he stays that way.”
There’s a lot of things he could say, a lot of ways he could respond. Your hope for Geto to change, your faith that he could change in another life, may fall on deaf ears. Is that what you would want to hear after finally executing your best friend after a decade of refusal to, a decade of asking yourself the same questions?
You turn to him, eyes searching his face. But it turns out you don’t need to worry.
“Maybe,” Gojo smiles, and that’s good enough for you. “And maybe in another life, I would have confessed to you a long, long time ago.”
“Really? When?” You laugh.
“Hm…how about the first time I saw you?”
He tucks a stray strand of your hair behind your ear. Your breath halts at the absolutely love-struck expression on his face.
You want to ask him what he means, how that’s even possible, for every detail and moment he realized, but…
“You’re full of shit!” is what you say instead.
He continues on with a sweet smile, as if he hadn’t heard you, “You walked in holding a huge stack of books to your chest and got so nervous to introduce yourself in front of the class that you forgot to put them down and dropped them when you bowed.”
“Ahh! No I didn’t!”
“Mmhmm. And you were so shy that you refused to talk to me for three weeks, even though you talked to Suguru and Shoko.”
“Y-you were hard to look at!” You defend yourself, cheeks warming. “And how could I talk to you when I could barely look at you? You’re so…perfect, y’know? It was hard to talk to you when you’re so talented and pretty and charming…”
“Ooo? You really think so?” He wears a shit-eating grin.
“Okay, that’s enough!" You pout, crossing you arms.
"Awww, don't be mad at me sweets!" He chuckles and wraps himself around you. "I'm only telling the truth. You made me nervous too, y'know?"
"As if," You frown. "It didn't seem like it."
"Maybe I was just better at hiding it," He says, his smile now seeming misplaced. Each stirring feeling conjured a mask so convincing that it remained unquestioned for years, not until each of your blinding smiles formed cracks in his fake persona, breaking him down to his barest bones. Then he was a blushing mess around you, as Geto and Shoko often reminded him.
"Actually, I think you just weren't observant enough," He sighs and puts a hand over his heart as if offended. "Did you not pay any attention to me, sweets?!"
"I did! I just thought you hated me at first," You admit. "You wouldn't even look at me for so long, I just thought you looked down on me. I mean, you've always been so famous in our world, y'know? It made sense why you wouldn't pay me any attention. Well, I thought as much until we became friends, at least."
He moves in closer, his large fingers framing your cheek and rubbing gently your cheekbone. He's flushed, pink spreading across his cheeks and nose. "Hate you? I really messed up there, huh? Look at my face, sweets. I was just worried this would happen. You've always had this effect on me...I was scared that it was obvious even without speaking to you. Or looking at you."
You roll your eyes playfully. "How could that be obvious, Satoru? Only you could think that."
"Hmm, but everyone else still seemed to know."
"What exactly do you mean by 'everyone'?"
He chuckles. "It's a long list, sweets."
It's then you have the realization that you're still in the dark about a lot, not just this 'long list' of everyone who supposedly was aware of Gojo's affections. What exactly has transpired in the past weeks, or even months?
"There's still a lot you haven't told me yet. What exactly has been going on?"
He smiles. "That should be my line. There's a lot you haven't told me yet."
He's right. Annoyingly right. There was more to the vow, more to Geto and his family, than you've relayed. And everything about your illness...
It dawns on you that there are things you aren't ready to share yet. That you and Gojo have your work cut out for you when it comes to the past, when it comes to your relationship. You have love for each other, but there's more than that to a relationship.
"I know..." You frown, dreading the prospect already.
"Hey," He thumbs at your down-turned lips. "We'll get to it—we'll get to everything. We have all the time in the world now. We can talk about all the millions of things you're thinking about whenever you're ready...but for now, let's just have today. Today is for us. There's always a tomorrow, yeah?"
Hope blooms in your chest. That's right. One step at a time.
"'Today is for us'...I like that."
You smile easily, an invisible weight lifting from your chest. You feel lighter than you have in months—and it seems like Gojo is faring similarly, with his relaxed expression and gentle smile. But a flicker of uncertainty, given away by his eyes that he's not used to having on display, interrupts his otherwise peaceful expression.
Your smile drops. "What? Is something wrong?"
His narrows his eyes. "Can you read my thoughts or something? I was thinking for legitimately three seconds and you start hounding me..."
"Like I said before, thinking is dangerous from you!" You giggle.
"I really can't hide anything from you, can I?" He chuckles, shaking his head. "It's just that...I have a feeling that things are only going to get more complicated from here on out."
His words are cryptic, but you understand what he means. He's always been sensitive to changes in cursed energy, born with this innate instinct. He almost always senses major events in the sorcerer world before they happen.
"You've sensed something?" You ask, now alert.
You see something like regret flash across his features, as if he wants to eat his words. You're the type who is constantly overthinking and fearing worst case scenarios, as he well knows. You should be worried, with a million thoughts running through your head. But right now?
"Whatever," You shrug, truthfully unbothered. "As long as you're here, it doesn't matter. Even if the world is supposed to go up in flames, we have today. And you protect our tomorrow."
"Just me? Aren't you a sorcerer too? Don't discredit yourself, sweets," He smiles, but the look he gives you is firm. "We protect our tomorrow."
Embarrassment fills your features; you have always doubted your abilities, which has never been hard with Satoru around, much to his distaste.
"If you insist," You say, barely acknowledging yourself, but it's better than nothing. You look away from him, squirming uncomfortably in embarrassment.
"Mhm, I do," He hums. "It's always a we now, sweets."
But just as soon as you've seen his soft and sincere side, it's gone.
"But enough of all this boooring talk! Now that I have you, I think we have lots of lost time to make up for."
You raise your eyebrows. "What's wrong with talking, hm?"
He's so close again, and your eyes can't help but flick down to his pale pink lips.
"I don't need words to say what I want to," He says, lips brushing the skin on your neck where your pulse thrums.
"Is that right?" You try to ask, but soon your lips are occupied, your words muffled as he kisses you deeply.
"Mmhmm, and I have so much to tell you," He murmurs. "I've been needing this for so many years, angel. Been needing you."
You feel like you can't think, like you can't breathe.
"I want to do— I mean, talk about more things with you."
You don't miss the mischievous twinkle in his eyes, and the way he pulls you closer and presses your body against his, your skin brushing against his. You feel heat, you feel electricity; you feel him.
He's all you want.
"Freudian slip, Satoru? Well, talk all you want. I'm all yours."
notes: not me foreshadowing Sukuna and his long long list of consequences...especially that one :( also sorry for offscreening Suguru 💀
Guys I'm finally done!!! I think I need to ban myself from doing multiple chapter works because I really just make you guys wait for waaaay too long... Either that or I have to finish writing the series first before posting any of it LOL. Like do you want to know something embarrassing? I had to reread my own writing because I forgot what I wrote...which is crazy!!!
Also I rewrote this like 3 times AGHHH and I had the hardest time with the ending...I hope it's not too awkward or sudden? I tried my best with it ;-;
Thank you so so so much for reading and commenting!!! <3 And again, sorry to keep you waiting for so long!!
you don’t really realize you’re growing old with satoru until you spot a grey tress inside the roots of your hair as you’re looking in the mirror. the thing about marriage and life itself was that time really doesn’t stop—for no one. as you entrap the lock between your fingers, you murmur out to satoru with a cheeky grin. “satoru baby, c’mere.”and as he’s lying in bed with a wrinkled nose, he reads some book titled ‘three men in a boat.’ as he flips a thick page, his cerulean blue reading glasses crook down the bridge of his nose before he turns his attention toward you.
“yesss, honey?” he rubs his eyes, bringing a palm up to his growing stubble. as he got older, you noticed how he moved a bit slower. satoru was still fit as he aged, but he’d have a bit of a waddle whenever he walked. it was cute—how his limbs were getting more and more fragile, but he was still labeled as the strongest despite his inevitable aging.
he makes his way behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. the two of you make eye contact through the mirror that reflects you both, a happy married couple. “look, we’re finally matching now,” and his face softens once you bring the silvery colored strand up to his view. ‘matching,’ because his hair was naturally a snowy white . . almost similar to the strand of hair you just showed him.
although as the years progressed, satoru was growing ashen grey streaks too.
“i guess we are,” he replied in a gentle tone, his hands remaining on your hips. satoru’s touch was always gentle and ginger. he presses his lips near the back of your nape before letting off a soft sigh. “you’d look pretty with white hair, actually.”
“prettier than you?” you hum, glancing at him through the mirror. satoru towers over you as he holds you, the band of his wedding ring grazing against your hip.
again, you watch as the corners of his lips crease into a smile. a toothy genuine one where his dimples show.
“haha, veeeery funny,” and as he buries his face into your neck, he deeply ponders to himself for a moment.
to think . . how much time has passed, out of all the countless tiresome battles he’s had to face—
all those years at trying to keep the world safe and now, he could finally relax. having his arms around you gave him a peace of mind, and in the end it was all worth it because at the end of the day, satoru gojo—the strongest, came back to you. you were his personal safe haven and he was yours.
“but honeyyy,” he yawns with rosy pouty lips, shifting his chin up to rest against your left shoulder. satoru starts leading you toward your side of the bed. “ ‘s pretty late, let’s getcha back to bed, hm?”
“okay,” you mumble, already feeling your eyes starting to get heavy again. satoru’s still got his burly arms wrapped around your waist as he leisurely guides you back to bed. he was clingy, and that never changed. satoru gojo’s always been clingy ever since the two of you met. as he pulls down the cover for you to enter, you crawl back in and he gets beside you.
satoru slings an arm around you, pulling you close as his hooded eyes starts a staring contest with the swaying wooden ceiling fan.
it’s moving slow. . just like time was.
whenever he was with you, it felt as if time stood still. and as the both of you cuddled against each other with your head resting against his beating heart, he sighs. it’s a content happy sigh, and satoru’s hands find their way near the top of your head. his thin fingers maze it’s way near your soft grey growing strand before he leans in, giving the crown of your head a goodnight kiss. “mwah,” and he watches as your eyes briefly widen before glancing away, growing sheepish. “get some rest, my love. i’ll be here when you wake up. promise.”
you nod, too drowsy to reply and he pulls you closer. satoru’s heartbeat was steady and slow, and each pulse that bested against your ear made you felt more and more protected. as he holds you firm and close, a hand of his softly caresses your forehead—brushing against the soft hairs that cling onto your skin.
as your breathing starts to relax and your eyelids finally close, he realizes you finally drifted off to sleep. satoru exhales lowly, almost forgetting to take off his reading glasses. as he places them near the nightstand, he lies back down, giving your sleeping state once last glance.
“i love you,” he whispers against your ear before reaching for the pearled lamp switch. “so much.”your head nuzzles against his chest and he assumes that was your non-verbal way of saying it back, even in your sleep. cute.
the only sounds that could be heard were the faint tick tocking of the grandfather clock that stood near the hallway and your soft breathing as you deeply slept. satoru feels a smile tugging against his glossed lips yet again, but this time it’s different . .
it’s not the same smile from when you showed him that you were graying, it was a more genuine smile that was satisfied at everything—primarily at life. satoru’s long crystalline lashes gradually flap shut as he smiles to himself, a thumb brushing against your forehead. all those battles was worth it in the end, because right now, he’s at the only place he wanted to be . . with you.
life wasn’t a competition, but satoru finally felt at peace, true peace—and that peace was being in your presence. he wasn’t one for believing in good endings, but maybe this particular one wasn’t so bad.
you and gojo satoru are the perfect couple. even if nobody else could match your energy, he most definitely always would. you don't remember a single moment when you're not in sync with him.
you're laughing at something stupid? he's right next to you, doubled over with tears in his eyes. you're telling him about your day? better believe he'd be nodding along and interrupting you to ask questions just to know every little detail.
you're listening to old disney songs while baking? he's right behind you, arms effortlessly manoeuvring you across the kitchen floor, dipping and twirling you around while singing at the top of his lungs (rather horrendously) along with you.
you want ice cream at midnight? he's on it! (with some for him too, of course) feeling clingy? he'll shower you in all the affection you've asked for and more, absolutely refusing to let you go. you just told him a really cheesy pick up line? better believe he's gonna blush and giggle and kick his feet before replying with an even worse one.
and oh boy, get ready to be tossed around like a sack of potatoes when he's around. he picks you up randomly all the time, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck just to hear those sweet laughs from you.
he's never believed in soulmates until he found you, to be honest.
you made him feel heard and known. you saw him for who he really was, and you reciprocated his love in a way he never would've imagined anyone could. you loved him for more than his exterior (and you most definitely match his freak).
he'd also never experienced love at first sight until he saw you.
he was absolutely floored by how gorgeous you were, your smile so radiant it made him grin right back with a dopey look in his eyes. shit, he didn't even know your name at the time, yet he could swear he was in love with you.
satoru really loves every little thing about you. he would worship the ground you walk on if you let him. he would bring down the moon from the sky if you asked him to.
this man is whipped, and you wouldn't have it any other way.
The racetrack was buzzing with excitement, the roar of engines deafening as the crowd cheered for their favorite racers. Among the contenders, two stood out: Suguru Geto, known for his smooth, calculated style, and Satoru Gojo, the reckless daredevil who raced as if the rules didn’t apply to him. Both were legends in their own right, but for you, they were more than just racers—they were your best friends, and lately, something more.
You had been part of their team for years now, working as an engineer and mechanic. The three of you were inseparable, with a history that stretched back to when Geto and Gojo were still rookies. The camaraderie between them had always been competitive, and that competitive edge often spilled over into your dynamic with them. Flirtations, teasing remarks, and the occasional glimmer of something unspoken had always danced between you, Geto, and Gojo. And now, it felt like things were on the verge of tipping over.
Standing in the pit, you watched them prepare for their next race. Gojo’s white and blue car gleamed under the sun, while Geto’s black and purple machine had an almost intimidating aura about it. Both were polar opposites in style, just like their drivers.
“You look nervous,” a familiar voice said from behind you.
You turned to find Gojo sauntering up, his racing suit half-zipped down to reveal a white undershirt clinging to his toned chest. His trademark grin was plastered on his face, hidden slightly behind his racing helmet that dangled from his fingers. The white hair falling messily around his head didn’t help your already weak composure.
“Why would I be nervous?” you shot back, trying to keep your cool as you fiddled with the tool in your hand. Gojo always had a way of getting under your skin—playful, cocky, but also so damn irresistible.
“You’re always nervous before our races,” Gojo teased, stepping closer until he was invading your personal space. His icy blue eyes flickered with amusement as he tilted his head. “Or is it because you’re worried I’ll leave Geto in the dust again?”
“Please,” Geto’s voice cut in smoothly from behind, his tone calm but edged with a bit of playful sarcasm. “You’ve been eating my dust since last season, Gojo.”
Geto approached, his dark hair neatly tied back, though a few strands had escaped, framing his face in a way that made him look effortlessly handsome. He was the opposite of Gojo in every way—quiet, reserved, and dangerously focused. The two of them, standing so close, with you caught in the middle, felt like being between fire and ice.
You let out a sigh, feeling the familiar tug of their banter. “You two never stop, do you?”
Geto gave you one of his rare, subtle smiles. “Can’t help it. I know how much you enjoy watching me win.”
Gojo leaned in closer to your other side, his breath brushing your ear. “Or maybe you just like seeing me push the limits,” he whispered, his voice low and teasing. “It’s more fun when there’s a bit of danger involved, isn’t it?”
Your heart stuttered at the attention. You had long since accepted the fact that you were caught between two forces of nature, each pulling you in different directions. And while the rivalry between them was playful on the surface, there had always been an undercurrent of something deeper, especially when it came to you.
“Well,” you said, trying to shake off the sudden heat crawling up your neck. “I just hope both of you make it to the finish line in one piece.”
Gojo laughed, standing up straight and running a hand through his hair. “Oh, I’ll finish alright. And when I do, maybe we can celebrate, just the three of us.”
Geto raised an eyebrow, the smallest of smirks tugging at his lips. “Only if you can keep up, Gojo. Wouldn’t want you to be too tired after losing again.”
You rolled your eyes at their bickering. “Alright, enough. Both of you need to focus on the race. Save the trash talk for afterward.”
Gojo winked at you before walking back to his car. “You’ve got it, boss. But I’ll be expecting a kiss for good luck before I start.”
Your mouth fell open in disbelief, but before you could retort, Geto leaned in close, his voice low and smooth. “You should give me one too,” he murmured, his lips dangerously close to your ear. “You know I race better when you’re thinking of me.”
Your breath hitched, caught off guard by the intensity in his voice. He was always quieter, more restrained, but moments like this? Moments where he turned his full attention on you felt like the world around you was narrowing to just the two of you.
You cleared your throat, trying to maintain your composure. “I’m not giving anyone anything until one of you wins.”
“Then we’ll both win,” Gojo called out, sliding into his car with a grin that could light up the entire track.
Geto’s smirk deepened as he straightened up, his dark eyes locking with yours before he finally turned to walk away. “You’d better keep your word.”
As the race began, the atmosphere shifted dramatically. Engines roared to life, and the crowd erupted into cheers. You took your position at the pit, your heart racing as the cars sped off into the distance.
From the sidelines, you could feel the tension and excitement in the air. Gojo took the lead almost immediately, his car weaving through the competition with an exhilarating ease. You watched as he pushed his limits, taking risky turns that had you gasping in anticipation. He loved the thrill of the race, and you could see the joy written all over his face.
Meanwhile, Geto was playing the long game, maintaining his position a few cars behind. His eyes were sharp and focused, assessing every move of his competitors. It was mesmerizing to watch him strategize, calculating when to push forward and when to hold back.
You felt your heart pounding in your chest, the thrill of their rivalry igniting something deep within you. This wasn’t just another race. It felt personal. The way both of them had looked at you before they started, the challenge in their eyes—it was as if this race had become about more than just who would cross the finish line first. It was about who would win... you. Each time Gojo took a daring risk, you felt yourself hold your breath, and every time Geto executed a perfect turn, you couldn’t help but cheer internally for him.
As they approached the final lap, the tension reached a fever pitch. Gojo and Geto were neck and neck, both pushing their cars to the limit. Gojo took a sharp turn, the tires screeching as he maneuvered dangerously close to the edge, while Geto followed, expertly handling his own car as he slipped into position beside him.
You could hardly breathe as they sped down the final stretch, engines roaring and tires squealing. The finish line was in sight, and the crowd was on their feet, screaming for their favorites. You stood at the edge of the pit, heart racing, feeling the adrenaline coursing through your veins.
As they crossed the finish line, the world seemed to hold its breath. In an instant, both cars shot past the checkered flag, and it was impossible to tell who had won. The crowd erupted into cheers and gasps, and you found yourself rushing toward the pit. The officials were already debating the results, but it didn’t matter. For you, the race had been a tie from the start.
Both drivers pulled into the pit, their cars screeching to a halt. Gojo was the first to step out, pulling off his helmet and shaking his hair loose. He looked exhilarated, eyes bright as he jogged over to you.
“Told you I’d win,” he said with a cocky grin, but before you could reply, Geto stepped out of his car, calm as ever.
“Technically, it’s a tie,” Geto pointed out, but there was no irritation in his voice. In fact, there was something almost satisfied in his expression, as if he knew that neither of them could truly lose today.
You crossed your arms, trying to look stern, but the smile on your face gave you away. “You guys are impossible, you know that?”
Gojo stepped closer, his grin widening. “So, about that celebration…?”
Geto’s gaze darkened with a quiet intensity, and he stepped forward as well. “You made a promise, didn’t you?”
Caught between them again, you felt the familiar pull—the heat of their rivalry and the way they both looked at you, like you were the real prize they had been fighting for all along.
Maybe you were.
“Well,” you said with a teasing smile, “I guess I owe you both.”
Gojo chuckled, wrapping an arm around your shoulder as Geto stood close on your other side, his hand brushing yours. “I think we can work something out.”
And in that moment, with both of them beside you, it felt like maybe, just maybe, they both had won.
