Satoru Gojo was like a drug; you either love it or you hate it, and you? Well, you hated him.
He was a cocky, stuck-up, arrogant bastard in your eyes. You’d hated him for as long as you’d known him, which was around eleven years at this point. You couldn’t even point out what about him you hated the most. In your eyes, you hated everything about him equally, from his standoffish blue eyes all the way to his stupid strength. So, why did you feel the need to let him into your apartment at two in the morning when he showed up drunk? You weren’t sure.
Maybe it had something to do with the way he had his blindfold off and his hair wasn’t pushed up, or maybe it was the way he kept asking you to get him Suguru. Maybe you just felt bad for him; the man asking repeatedly for his best friend who’d died a year ago. Or maybe, just maybe, you didn’t hate him as much as you said you did. No.. that couldn’t be it.
If that last one wasn't it, why were you currently holding him as he cried over his best friend instead of sleeping? Why were you trying desperately to get him to eat something and drink some water so he’d feel better? If you hated him so much, why were you showing him so much kindness? No, you surely felt bad for him, right?
Then why did him looking at you with red rimmed, heart-broken eyes cause your heart to clench in your chest? Why were the sounds of his sobs your least favourite thing you’ve ever heard? Why were you whispering sweet nothings to him as he leaned into you, his arm wrapped around your waist in almost a possessive way to pull you closer? Maybe you didn’t hate him as much as you said you did. Maybe you just hated the attitude he showed on a daily basis. No, you definitely hated him.
Then why did you let him in? Why were you currently holding back tears of your own as he drunkenly cried over his best friend? Why did seeing him so upset make you upset? Why did you feel so bad for the man leaning against you if you hated him? What was it about him that made it so hard to hate him? It was surely just your kind-hearted soul that was making you feel like this right? Yeah, it surely was.
Then there were those eyes, staring at you with an unreadable look. You couldn’t exactly say what that look was, nor could you describe the way that look was making you feel. You were quickly standing up, taking a step back. “We should get you to bed.” Your words didn’t sound like your own. Your heart shattered so violently within the cage of your ribs, the pieces falling so far into you that you were sure it wasn’t recoverable or fixable when you saw the hurt that flashed through his eyes at your words.
He nodded, his eyes casted to the ground. “Yeah,” he muttered, curling back into himself. You couldn’t deny the way you felt at his uttered words, his pain reaching the farthest parts of your soul. “You can take the bed.” You told him, gently grabbing his arm to help him stand. He didn’t protest or pull away, maybe too drunk to fully grasp your words. You led him to your bedroom and quickly helped him take his shoes off before you were lying him down on your bed. He was asleep almost instantly, curling up with your blankets and pillows.
When morning came, you were confused at the smell of something sweet wafting through your apartment. You stumbled into the kitchen, half-awake, and your eyes fell on Satoru pulling some boxes out of a bag. He turned at the sound of you entering the kitchen and gave you half a grin. “Morning, sleepyhead.” He joked, that cocky tone in his voice reigniting your hate for him. He extended one of the boxes towards you. “Crepes.” He spoke, answering the unspoken question in your eyes.
“Thanks.” You muttered, taking the box from him. You always knew he had a sweet tooth, but this early in the morning? The box was placed on the island to your left before you turned your attention back to him. “Did you, uh- did you sleep well?”
He smiled, that cocky grin that you hated so much. If he wasn’t wearing his blindfold, you were sure his eyes would hold that same cockiness in them. “Yeah,” he responded with a nod. Then, his face morphed into a more serious look. “Thank you.” You raised a brow at him. “For last night, I mean.” Oh, yeah. Last night.
You waved off his words, sitting down at your island as you pulled the box of crepes he'd bought you for breakfast towards you. “No problem,” you responded quietly. To you, it was a huge problem. Why’d he have to show up on your doorstep of all people? Why not Shoko’s? “Do you feel better?”
He chuckled as he sat down beside you, his knee brushing against your’s. “Yeah, lots better.” He rubbed the back of his neck before facing you. “I didn- I wasn’t all weird right,” he asked. “Like I didn’t go and say anything weird?”
You couldn’t stop the small chuckle that left your mouth at that. No, he hadn’t said anything weird, but that look. You couldn’t get that look out of your head. The way his eyes had shined as he looked at you, as if he was truly seeing you for the first time. As if you were what he was missing. “No,” you responded as you opened the box of crepes. He nodded, letting out a sigh of relief. “Good.”
If someone had told you years ago that the man you had hated for eleven years would be eating breakfast with you in your apartment after he cried to you the night before, you would have called them insane and probably hit them. Yet, here you were, a comfortable silence filling the air as you both ate.
Now, you still hated him. Of course you did. One night wasn’t going to change that. Yet, the way his knee would brush against your’s when he leaned forward to grab another crepe or to grab his glass, sent spikes of electricity down your spine. He didn’t have infinity on, which was rare for Satoru. You wondered why he trusted you enough to keep infinity off in your proximity when you’d made it vividly clear over the years that you despised him.
Satoru was thinking the same thing. He couldn’t bring himself to turn infinity on in that moment, somewhat enjoying the way your knees would brush against each other as one of you moved. He knew you hated him, which was a huge surprise for him when he woke up in your apartment. Satoru didn’t remember much of the night before, but what he did remember was your comforting touch.
Satoru wasn’t ever one for wishing for things or dreaming for a future. Yet, for the past eleven years he’d found himself wishing nothing more than for this moment right now. The silence between you two not being filled with his cocky demeanor and your comments about how annoying he is. The gentle brush of your knees, the way you ate so delicately, the way you smelled. It was all something he’d wished and dreamt of for years, having found you very alluring over the years. And he just couldn’t stop staring at you.
You were very aware of his eyes on you from under his blindfold. You could feel the stare. You weren’t sure why, but it didn’t make you feel uncomfortable or even the slightest bit angry. But you hated it when he stared at you, it was something about him that you hated the most. You hated it when you’d randomly turn and find him facing your direction, seemingly staring at you as you worked and you always made sure to comment on it. Usually, your words were harsh and cold, but this morning you couldn’t find it in yourself to snap at him for staring.
“Thank you for breakfast,” you said softly, turning to face him. God, that stupid cocky grin of his and his stupid fucki- Why was his blindfold off? You found yourself staring right into those cerulean blue eyes, your breath catching in your throat. It wasn’t like it was the first time you’d seen his eyes before, but the look in them.. It matched the look he’d given you last night.
“Anytime.” It was a promise, an unspoken promise of this happening again. A promise that there’d be more times when you'd have crepes or something else sweet for breakfast at the island in your kitchen with him. And you didn’t have it in you to disagree. Not today, not now, not with those pretty blue eyes staring at you with that look. Not when his eyes flickered down for a split second, almost too quick to notice if you weren’t paying attention.
And maybe it was the way his blue eyes were so enticing, or maybe it was the way his knee was pressed against yours, but you don’t find yourself pulling away when he leaned slightly closer. Maybe it was the way his hand came up and oh so gently brushed some of your hair out of your face, his fingers lingering on your face for a moment, almost as if he was contemplating something. Or maybe it was the way you leaned into the touch, practically forcing him to cup your cheek so gently. No, it wasn’t any of that. It was something else entirely. But you hated him, right?
Of course you hated him. You hated the way he was gently running his thumb over your cheek, his movement gentle and soft. You hated the way he seemed to lean closer, stopping just a hair's breadth away from your lips, the way his eyes searched yours for any sign of not wanting this. You hated the way his lips felt against yours, so soft and gentle. Yeah, you surely hated him.
You hated him so much you found yourself kissing him back, the man stealing the air from your lungs so effortlessly. Your eyes fluttering shut when his hand shifted, moving to the back of your neck to pull you closer. You hated him so much that your hand instinctively clasped the material of his shirt, tugging him closer.
You especially hated him when he pulled away, just slightly, his eyes taking in your flushed face. He’d never seen you painted such a pretty pink before and he found himself wanting it to be a more common sight. He was pulling you back in quickly, his lips reattaching to your own, kissing you a bit more feverishly. The way he kissed you was like he’d die without it and you weren’t any better.
You caved the second he’d looked at you with those eyes, you knew that. Yet, it was still a bit of a shock that you were actually kissing him so easily, as if you hadn’t spent the past eleven years hating him. Maybe, just maybe it wasn’t hate you felt for him all along. Maybe it was a deeper feeling, one of desire. Maybe you were just like all the other girls, longing for his touch and those pretty blue eyes to be directed at you. No, that surely wasn’t it. You just hated him, right? Yeah, of course you did.
“I still hate you,” you muttered breathlessly against his lips between kisses. God, you hated that cocky smirk against your lips and that cocky voice of his as he responded, “I know.”
Satoru Gojo was like a drug; you either love it or you hate it, and you? Well, maybe you didn’t hate him as much as you thought you did.
