#sixeyes

[itadori-san]

OKKOTSU YUTA, YOU MUST EXECUTE ITADORI YUUJI.

[sleepyafcapricorn]

Tranquility in Marriage — Gojo Satoru x Reader

WARNINGS: MDNI, heavy implications and talks of sexism, gender inequality because its in a more traditional setting, fluff, arranged marriage, quiet love, slowburn, distrust at first, elders acting like shit.

SUMMARY: Getting into an arranged marriage with you was the only order Gojo Satoru had ever obeyed from the Elders and it was certainly not one he regretted.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This fic is heavily inspired on a slow love song I found and it's like a part one of the background of a mini-series for the arranged marriage au. Link to part ii.

MASTERLIST & REQUESTS: Before you go, have a glass of wine or better yet, recommend a good bottle. any kind of message is always a delight.

You looked in front of the mirror with cold, empty eyes that practically screamed for you to get out of there. The beautiful white gown fit your body perfectly, the painted lips left not a single smudge around it, the curled hair flowed down elegantly—every detail in place, every inch seen and carefully given attention to, an evident of your family's perfectionism. But it felt nothing like you, almost as if you were in someone else's skin or more precisely, a nightmare that could been ended with a single pinch.

However, no matter how many times you tried to dig your sharp nails into the flesh of your elbow, desperately attempting to wake yourself, you were instead met with a sting from the pinch and the bitter realization that this was indeed real. All of it was your reality now and you didn't have a say in it anymore.

Growing up in a traditional and strict clan meant that you had been taught lessons that you would never have learnt if you had been born in a normal family, your childhood no longer becoming your own as the adults around you took control.

While other little girls learnt how to tie their shoelaces and sing the alphabets during their childhood, your mother and the ladies of the clan homeschooled you and taught you the ways of how marriage works early on in your childhood. They tried to drill the idea of being a perfect wife in your head, becoming obsessed over time to turn you into a bargaining doll- a perfect bride to be sold of to another clan for power and fame.

In your childhood, you became lonely and isolated, cut off from the rest of the world the high walls your clan built around you. The women of your clan would frequently tell you horror stories, meant to keep you afraid, obedient and most importantly, loyal. They told you all about the cruel men who would sell you for money, how shame and ruin will only follow you beyond the clan's protection, and how staying within tradition is important to preserve your dignity.

"None of us would become anything without tradition," Your father lamented during supper, while your mother poured more tea into his cup, "Each of us have duties to be fulfilled with the roles given to us. You must do the same."

"But I do not know him, Father," you spoke up, voice steady as ever, causing several figures around you to stiffen, including your mother whose hand froze around the teapot handle. "How can I marry someone I do not know? I don't even know what he looks like. I've only heard from the whispers of others. "

Even with the suffocating pressure of tradition, you had always clung to your freedom. Long before you ever learned about the outside world, before you secretly discovered what life was like beyond the clan walls, you had already felt the longing of freedom in your heart. You wanted to live without fear and discover the world for yourself. You wanted to become more than what you were destined for.

And once you did learn and saw how different things could be for women outside of the clan's high walls, you couldn't erase it from your thoughts.

You began to question it. At first, your rebellion came in sharp bursts during your teenage years, which consisted of loud arguments, slammed doors, sleepless nights. But over time, you learned to wield your defiance more carefully. Quietly. Strategically.

You learned how to maintain your peace while still discovering pieces of yourself that they will never reach. You found freedom in stolen books, brief conversations with outsiders, and long moments spent in your gardens where no one could hear you think.

But no amount of rebellion could stop the letter that arrived from the Gojo clan.

And now, sitting at the table during supper, you could feel that old, familiar burn in your chest. The ache of a future chosen for you, wrapped in duty and a name far more powerful than your own.

Your mother's face slowly turned red with fury, lips tightening, ready to yell at you, "You ungrateful brat—"

"You will know him soon enough, flower," your father interjected gently but firmly, shooting a warning glare to your mother. She fell silent with a click of her tongue.

Your father turned back to you, eyes softening with understanding and sorrow. "And you will do your duty," he said, not as a command but rather as a reminder. "As I have. As your mother has. As every soul at this table has for generations, and many more to come."

There was no malice in your father's words. There never had been.

You were his only child. His only daughter.

Out of everyone in the clan, he had dreaded this day the most. He had postponed your marriage as long as he could, always making excuses to the elders that there wasn't a suitable match for you yet, allowing you to have more time with your freedom. He had ensured you had everything your heart desired growing up, whether it'd be bookshelves filled with books to private gardens for you to wander alone, away from the suffocating clan members.

He had given you everything he could and he was the one to raise you as you are now, but even he was bound. "I would keep you forever here if I could," your father had said quietly to you in private when the announcement was first made. "However, I am unable to postpone this. The Gojo clan had been asking for your hand for quite some time now."

And just like that, your heart broke into pieces.

The Gojo clan, the most powerful and ancient family within the Jujutsu Society, had proposed a marriage between you and their only heir, Gojo Satoru. A name that's known in every household as he was known to hold the most powerful gift ever known, appearing only once in a hundred of years.

The Strongest, the Chosen One and now, your soon-to-be husband.

That was why your clan paid no mind to expenses. The wedding preparations was meant to become a spectacle to guests to dazzle. They wanted the whole world to know that their bloodline would be bound to the most exclusive and the most powerful clan in all the Jujutsu Society. And one day, their bloodline would be the one to have heirs of the Six Eyes and Limitless.

They paraded you around like a crowned jewel. A daughter. A symbol. A transaction for power.

Your father tried his best to comfort you throughout the whole process and even told you of how kind and polite the young Gojo was, but you still felt dread crawling up your chest every time you were reminded of the wedding.

Eventually, your father arranged a formal supper, hosting an official meeting between the two clans. A chance for you and your betrothed to meet face to face.

The Gojo clan would be arriving that evening.

You had never seen him before. Not even a glimpse. But the rumors painted him vividly. The piercing, otherworldly blue eyes that marked him as the wielder of the Six Eyes. Eyes said to see through everything and everyone. Eyes that couldn’t be lied to. Eyes that made people tremble at the mere sight of them.

You didn't know him. Not really. And that made him unpredictable.

And in your perspective, unpredictability was dangerous.

It didn't help that during the rare times you were allowed to leave the estate—escorted by maids who watches you closely—you still managed to hear the whispers and gossips from others. And when you snuck out on your own, hidden beneath a dark cloak as you always are, the whispers grew louder.

Some said he was mad. That he laughed too easily, smiled too widely. That he was far too powerful to be stable. Others whispered that he was dangerous—that behind that charming mask was a storm waiting to unravel. Some pitied you.

"Poor girl," they said. "She’ll be the one to face his gift when he loses control."

You couldn’t help but wonder who was right or perhaps, if all of them were and it depends on who he was with.

And still, you would have to sit beside him. Smile. Bow. Be the bride everyone expected you to be. Even if your hands trembled beneath the silk sleeves of your gown from fear and anxiety.

In the middle of the dining room, the air was thick with tension as servants rushed back and forth, arms full of trays and porcelain. Your aunts barked orders, your uncles corrected the seating arrangements for the fifth time, and your mother hovered over the flower arrangements like the wrong color petal might ruin the whole evening. You breath caught in your throat again. It had been happening all day. It was like a ticking time bomb and the explosion was getting closer with each breath you took.

And yet, no matter how many times they spoke of your betrothed, he remained nothing more than a blur in your mind. Unpredictable. Possibly destructive.

So, you did what you always did when the walls began to close in. You ran.

You slipped past your family members, past the servants busy with arrangements, past the elder who tried to stop you with a half-hearted call of your name. Your slippers barely made a sound on the wooden floors. You knew every corner, spending your whole life memorizing it to escape from everyone without getting noticed. You pushed a hidden door open to your garden.

The only place that ever felt like yours.

The only place you could freely be yourself with no eyes around.

No one was allowed here. Not the elders. Not the servants. Not even your mother dared to enter without invitation, which she can never get. Your father had made sure of that. It was your sanctuary and on days like this, it was the only thing that kept you breathing.

"It's just a stupid man," you tried to assure yourself, breathing deeply. You should consider yourself fortunate for not having Naoya Zenin as your betrothed. He was close to becoming your betrothed but your father refused to after sensing something terrible within the Zenin, which caused your mother to frequently complain to her sisters about since besides the Gojo clan, the Zenin clan is quite powerful as well. However, you heard that he was terrible behind doors towards his own staff and that your father had indeed saved you from a cruel destiny with him.

Perhaps Gojo Satoru isn't as bad as they say? You heard that he was a teacher as well to a school in Tokyo and becoming a teacher certainly teaches one patience and understanding.

Your whole body became alert when you felt someone open the door.

"Didn't think you'd be the type to bolt," came a voice from the doorway.

You froze.

The voice was low and teasing but calm as if he'd been waiting.

Your head snapped toward the sound, eyes locking onto a tall figure. His white hair caught the silver of the moonlight, and a pair of dark-tinted glasses covered his eyes. He didn’t look dressed for a formal dinner, though he wore the same colors as your clan's celebration garb, only looser, more relaxed, as if tradition didn't sit tightly on his skin the way it did on yours.

Gojo Satoru.

You didn’t need to ask.

You just knew.

"I had a feeling you might be here. Your garden looks lovely," he remarked with a smile, stepping casually onto the stone path but he made sure to keep a distance between you to keep you comfortable. "Though I have to admit, I expected you to climb the back wall and disappear completely. Not take a detour through your rose bushes."

You stared at him in disbelief, both at how relaxed he was and how annoying he was. "How do you know this is my garden?"

He tapped his ear. "I listen. Your maids gossip a lot."

You narrowed your eyes. "And how did you get here if you only listened? Did you follow me here?"

"I wandered," he said with an exaggerated shrug. "And stumbled into your sanctuary entirely by accident."

He looked at you. "Lucky me. If I hadn't, I wouldn't have seen such beauty."

You weren't sure if he meant the garden or you.

Silence stretched between the two of you.

He didn’t look dangerous. He didn’t look insane. If anything, he looked as if he was trying to figure out what to do or even say to you in the situation you are in. You two are meant to be married soon after all. His posture was relaxed, his voice soft and unassuming. The famous Gojo Satoru, who wielded the Six Eyes and Limitless, who could obliterate entire clans with a flick of his hand, stood there looking more like a polite yet awkward houseguest than the strongest sorcerer alive.

And then, just as your heart started to calm, he reached into his sleeve and pulled something out. Your eyes widened in surprise at the sugar bun he brought out, neatly wrapped in a pale paper.

He held it out to you, completely deadpan. "Peace offering."

Your brows furrowed. "…For what?"

He shrugged one shoulder, a lazy motion that somehow still managed to carry elegance. "For crashing your very exclusive garden party. And, you know, the whole arranged marriage thing."

You blinked, taken aback by the casualness in his tone.

He tilted his head and added, "I’m aware I don't exactly have a peaceful reputation, but I heard you liked sweets and I thought you would find flowers boring."

You stared at the sugar bun. Then back at him. Then back at the sugar bun. You did like sugar buns and you did favor snacks over flowers any day, but how could he have known that?

"…You’ve been spying on me?"

"Research," he said, one hand dramatically placed on his chest. "Basic recon. You’d be amazed what I can find out from your maids in just a few minutes."

"But even so, how did you manage to get the sugar bun on time? Your family couldn't have been here for that long," you pointed out, suspicion creeping into your voice.

Gojo grinned, the kind of grin that belonged to someone far too pleased with himself.

"Teleportation," he said simply, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

You blinked. "Teleportation," you repeated in disbelief.

"Yep. Technically, it’s a manipulation of space, but that’s boring talk." He gave the sugar bun a slight wave in front of your face. "What matters is that one moment I’m sweet-talking your maids, next moment I’m popping into my favorite bakery with the most delicious sugar bun that I know of in Tokyo, and then boom, I’m back here with the gift in hand."

"I didn’t want to show up empty-handed," he said with a casual shrug. "First impressions matter, and I didn’t think you'd be impressed by the usual fancy clan offerings. The elders suggested gold, pearls, cursed weapons— they're quite a bore."

You almost smiled.

The absurdity of it. The sincerity behind that sugar bun.

"And besides," he added, stepping a little closer and holding out the sugar bun again, "I wanted to give you something you would actually like and enjoy."

That made you pause.

It was true that you expected gifts from him not because you wanted it but rather that it was obligatory for the bride and groom to gift something in their first meeting. It had always been mandatory.

But this? A sugar bun from Tokyo, delivered through a manipulation of time and space, because he thought you would like it?

You took it from his hand, your fingers brushing his for the briefest second.

"Thank you," you murmured with a sincere smile.

He smiled so gently that it made you wondered for a moment—just for a moment—why you had been so guarded before.

"Anytime," he said.

—

"Where have you been?" Your mother whispered harshly the moment you stepped into the living room where the two families waited. Her eyes scanned you from head to toe with thinly hidden irritation.

You had told Gojo not to follow you, knowing very well that his presence beside you would raise several eyebrows, especially with the more traditional members like the elders at present. He understood though. He always seemed to understand, even when you didn't mind his company. It was something that needed to be done.

Before you could explain yourself, her eyes dropped to the sugar bun still in your hand. Her face turned furious and without missing a beat, she snatched the bun from your hand and shoved it to a nearby servant who got startled by the sudden presence of the snack in her hand.

"You are already spoiled enough," she hissed under her breath, as though your existence was a stain on a fine porcelain, disgust evident in her eyes. "But hiding away from your own engagement to eat sweets? Have you no shame?"

She aggressively smoothed out the front of your attire.

"Look at the mess you’ve made of yourself," she muttered, deeply annoyed. "If anyone knows better, they would have thought you passed through a storm to get here."

Aunts materialized around you like a daily routine, fixing your hair and adjusting stray threads from your attire with careful fingers and disapproving silence. They were less vocal about it, thinking that your mother's constant criticism would be enough for you to learn a lesson. You barely had the time to breathe through your mother's little makeover before you were presented—more like, pushed—to the heads of the Gojo clan.

Gojo Naoyuki and Gojo Sayaka.

Your future-in-laws.

Maintaining a steady posture, you bowed to them with grace as a formal greeting that was ingrained since childhood and one that. You had wondered what they might be like because unlike Satoru, there were barely any conversations surrounding them. One might even thought Satoru didn't any at all, given how rarely they were mentioned. Gojo Naoyuki held a great resemblance to his son—sharp jawline, striking white hair, the same proud nose—but he had none of Satoru's charms or even the twinkle in Satoru's eyes. Instead, his gaze was heavy and rather restricted, a large contrast with Satoru's own personality.

In some ways, he reminded you of your father—bounded by tradition, but he seemed to have experienced it far greater than your father had, tradition carved deeper into the lines of his every expression.

Gojo Sayaka, by contrast, was as beautiful as the whispers did claim, ever so graceful and composed, features refined like porcelain. There was an effortless elegance to her, the kind not taught but inherited. And yet, she had said very little since the moment you entered. Her silence was not absent though, it was calculation. Her poised eyes had followed your every movement the moment you stepped into the room, unlike her husband, whose focus had remained locked in conversation with your father.

Her gaze wasn't cruel, nor was it warm. It was observant. Formal. Dutiful. The way a queen might pay attention to her court; nothing personal and only done with a purpose.

While Satoru’s presence made you feel seen, Sayaka’s made you feel studied, like a judge almost.

However, you were used to judging eyes as well. You had been your whole life with the way the women in your clan, especially your mother, have berated you all these years and insulted you as well for every little thing you do. Yet, here you are, having to marry a family that's far better than the one your mother had married into. If it wasn't an arranged marriage, you would have been prideful of it sooner but after knowing your future husband, you were more at peace and only made your formalities. At the very least you will make sure to not tarnish the Gojo name.

Your father stepped forward first, bowing with practiced grace. “Gojo-dono. It is our honor to welcome you into our home.”

Naoyuki inclined his head. “The honor is mutual.” His voice was deep and calm, but carried the weight of a man who measured every word. “We have long observed your clan’s reputation for discipline. We are pleased to see it was not exaggerated.”

Your father offered a faint smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “We strive to uphold what was passed down.”

Naoyuki gave a single approving nod before his eyes shifted toward you. They swept over you—not in scrutiny, not even judgment—but in the way one might inspect a weapon, a seal, an heirloom. “You carry yourself well," he remarked smoothly but lacked in warmth. "As expected of your clan. Daughters are often the reflection of a clan's discipline."

You bowed again. “Thank you, Gojo-dono.”

“It is not praise," he said evenly, “It is the standard.”

Silence hung for a moment too long and your aunts braced themselves for the bite that you usually do, but instead you just smiled politely. "Of course, I was raised well by my family and I will continue to honour the Gojo family with everything I was taught."

The room remained still for a heartbeat longer. Your mother’s eyes twitched ever so slightly, unsure whether to feel pride or suspicion. Your aunts exchanged brief glances, perhaps uncertain if your response was a surrender or a warning wrapped around in silk.

Naoyuki studied you, and while his expression didn’t change, there was a shift in the air, the slightest pause before he nodded once. Accepting. For now.

"Very well." He said. "You'll come to understand that more intimately once you take your place in the Gojo clan."

Murmurs of agreement followed afterwards, mostly from your aunts and other members of the Gojo clan. As for Sayaka, she only blinked slowly. A small tilt of her head. Nothing more, but you could see that it was a sign of approval from her.

You dipped your head politely, not submitting, but choosing not to engage with the provocation. You’d been raised to survive this kind of game. But from the corner of your eye, you saw Satoru relax slightly at your composure, his shoulders loosening as if to say, You did well.

Naoyuki gave a small nod of approval. Not of warmth—that was never his style—but of recognition. You had not faltered.

But you knew this wouldn’t be the last time you'd be expected to endure someone else’s standards. You watched as your father continued to converse with Naoyuki, but you could still feel a gentle gaze on you.

[mx-sinisters]

sin's year in review; 2023

read in 2023 ➤ banana fish (1985-1994)

[kolomo]

ash and eiji in every episode ↳ EP17 | THE KILLERS

“it seems like it’s better for me if you stay. even if i sent you back to japan, i’d still be worried to death about you. so i’d rather have you here where i can see you.”

[katsukes]

JUJUTSU KAISEN (SEASON 2) 燈 (Akari) by 崎山蒼志 | insp.

[cellophanejpeg]

(you didn't even see the signs...)

[lnkedguts]

Possessor of the six eyes and limitless, Satoru always felt invincible. He knew what he was capable of from a young age. The fear shown on the faces of those around him spoke volumes. The shy glances from boys and girls around his age told him he looked decent. He never looked at his reflection on a mirror as it was deemed bad luck in the Gojo clan. Once or twice, he caught a glimpse of himself in the clear lake near his home.

The first person to show him absolute zero fear after meeting him for the first time was Geto Suguru.

It summed up the kind of person he was. Fearless and unbothered.

-

The first words they exchanged with each other were rather memorable. At least, for Satoru.

"You look like you need a shrink." Satoru grinned, taking in the wavy long black hair, heavy eye bags, and the seemingly permanent frown on the man in front of him. His six eyes take in more details, but to Suguru, he's not looking anywhere but at his own pair of eyes.

"You need a blindfold. Your eyes are disgustingly blue." Suguru didn’t wait for a response as he continued walking across the bridge to Jujutsu High. He wonders if he should've commented on the white hair too while he's in his vicinity, but quickly dismisses the thought to focus on his priorities.

Satoru felt a weird twist inside his chest at the jab with a tilt of his head. No one has ever commented on the color of his eyes. If anything, people avoided looking at him directly to protect themselves.

He brushes off the comment and smiles widely, going after Suguru. "I'm Satoru! You didn't tell me your name. We're gonna see each other often, so might as well."

I know, Suguru thought internally. "Suguru." He mumbled as his brows furrowed in annoyance. He was told Gojo Satoru is a quiet boy, so what's with all this chatter.

-

Three years later...

-

"Suguru~"

"Hm?"

"Let's go get takoyaki.", He whines, his lips sagging into a dramatic pout that Suguru sucks his teeth at.

For a brief moment, Suguru looks at Satoru's eyes. Well, at his blindfold to be exact. He wants to see his eyes, but it's something he'd never voice out loud. It's a ridiculous thought.

Satoru told him his grandpa had urged him to wear the blindfold two years ago until he could fully master controlling his six eyes.

"You're buying." Suguru stands up, shoving his hands in his pockets and heading out of the classroom.

Satoru puts his hands up in victory and pumps his fists a few times before catching up to his friend so he can walk by his side. He always walked to Suguru's left. He never asked, but he knows Suguru prefers it that way.

Suguru witnessed in real time how social the man became. It used to bother him, but he accepted that's how he'd be and there's no changing it. As long as Satoru didn't force him to be around people he didn't want to befriend.

Of course, Satoru sharpened his six eyes and limitless so he wouldn't spiral. He had his clan honor to uphold.

A few months ago, Suguru found out about the pain Satoru experienced once in a while in his eyes. The pain was explosive and Satoru tried his best that night to suppress it as much as he could. It was during their 3rd sleepover. Satoru tried to avoid him and leave his home after giving a poor excuse, but he demanded an answer so he could help in some way. He couldn't help. He hated that all he could do was watch Satoru groan and squirm in pain in his sleep. He hated that after the pain began, Satoru put his blindfold on immediately with shaky heads.

"Why are these ugly eyes giving you grief? Tsk."

Suguru knew how embarrassed Satoru felt as he helped him tie it in the back and that's probably why the man left so early in the morning even though he hated mornings and they had no classes that day. He wanted to tell him that it was okay and he'd stay by his side, but it was just one of those unnecessary thoughts. Satoru's strong. He'll be fine.

A few things annoy him. Satoru has a well for a stomach, he was now taller than Suguru and wouldn't shut up about it, he forces Suguru to try new things with him, and the list goes on. Maybe these things weren't annoyances, but something else.

-

A month later...

-

"I can't play basketball today." Satoru scribbled away in his textbook, drawing fake curses he's never come across. He hums and draws an exaggerated and deformed pair of ears with a smug face.

"Why?" Suguru asks, glancing at the crown of Satoru's head. Satoru didn't have his blindfold on, so he wanted him to look at him. Satoru always did the opposite. He'd hold Suguru's eye contact when he had his blindfold on and look away when it was off. Suguru hated it and hated how it stirred up an ugly feeling inside him.

"I have a date in the city." Satoru answered in a low voice but clear enough for Suguru to hear. The words hit Suguru's ears like bricks and he swallowed.

"A what? With who?" Suguru asks, controlling the tone of his voice so it doesn't sound off. It didn't work and the pitch of his voice rose. He wanted to slap himself.

Satoru chuckles and looks up, holding eye contact with Suguru for a fraction of a second before standing up and putting his blindfold on.

Suguru wanted to rip that blindfold off and shove it down his throat. Stupid fucking barrier. A barrier that Satoru didn't even need to put up when he was around him, but did it anyway.

"It's a blind date. Shoko's friend. Apparently, I played Go with him a long time ago." Satoru pauses for a few seconds before adding, "..And he likes my eyes." Satoru whispered but Suguru heard him loud and clear.

Satoru waves his right hand before exiting the classroom. "See you, Suguru."

Suguru lets out a shaky exhale he didn't know he was holding in. He pulls on his hair tie and lets his ponytail free, suddenly feeling a migraine creeping up on him.

-

Suguru watches Satoru and a boy he doesn't recognize laughing and eating fried chicken. Satoru ruffles the boy's hair and it forms a lump in Suguru's throat. What makes the ache in his chest worse is seeing Satoru blindfold free.

Suguru's mixed feelings mush and spike into anger. What did he not have that the strange boy had? What did he lack? He knew he was worthless, but to this degree? Was he not a good friend?

He watches the scene several feet away from him unfold for three more minutes. The boy across Satoru shakes his drink, pouting at the fact that it's probably finished. Satoru wastes no second offering his drink to which the boy happily drinks from with a rosy blush dancing on his cheeks.

Suguru's hand tremors come back in full swing and he curls his fingers into fists before shoving them in his pockets. He turns away and starts walking mindlessly.

-

"Suguru."

Suguru doesn't stop walking even though his heart skips a beat at the voice calling out to him.

"SUGURU!"

His steps come to a halt and he turns around. He controls the tone of his voice this time and speaks as if there isn't a hurricane brewing inside.

"How was your date, Satoru? Over already?"

"You stalking me, Sugu?"

Suguru frowns at the nickname for a second before his lips stretch into a fake smile. He wants to ask several questions regarding his date, but that'd make him look ridiculous. Just utterly pathetic.

"Of course not. Actually, it's good you're here. I should tell you the news now. I'm leaving Jujutsu High. It might sound sudden, but-"

"Stop." Satoru's brows furrow in confusion and the beating of his heart gradually accelerates.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Satoru walks a step closer. Suguru remains where he is.

"I'm leaving. It was planned a month ago. I'm set. It was nice o-"

Satoru cuts him off again. His chest is heaving now and his breaths come out fast and are cut short.

"Are you fucking joking right now? We graduate next week and we're going after a special grade and..y-you're quitting. Am I going crazy right now?" Satoru points a finger at his chest and swallows audibly.

Suguru's expression remains dull. "If you don't believe me, ask Yaga sensei. I came to say goodbye." It's true. He's contemplated it for months and decided recently that he was going to walk away from all this. He won't confess that his choice was fully set in stone after seeing Satoru with his date.

Sayonara Satoru, Suguru whispers in his head.

Satoru takes two steps forward, his long legs eating up the space between them until he's mere inches away from Suguru.

He whispers through gritted teeth. "Why do I feel like I'm being punished right now?"

Suguru's heart drops and a sharp pain twists in his throat. He wants to say a final word and leave but the word crumbles and turns to dust before it could leave past his lips. His mouth dries up, and he feels nauseated. He's even more angry at these ridiculous actions of his own body. Why's it so against him?

After a whole silent minute, Suguru asks, "How was the date? Do you like him?" Is he good for you? Am I not good for you?

Satoru's pupils dilate and his heart doesn't slow down. He wants to throttle the man in front of him. He wants to ask him to come to his senses. Maybe it's his fault. He tries to rack his brain to find out if he had done something that had been Suguru's last straw.

Suguru takes in the shades of electric blues swirling in Satoru's eyes. This is the longest Satoru has held eye contact with him for and maybe that's why he's struggling to bid farewell and leave.

A flashback of a dream he had a year ago washes over him like cold water.

"Suguru, what's your favorite color? Mine's every color of my favorite sweets. Pink, blue, purple.."

Suguru laughs wholeheartedly and ruffles his hair.

"Look at me Satoru."

And Satoru does. The shine of the blue in his eyes turns dark and they sparkle in a way that makes Suguru's heart almost burst right out of his chest. The feeling is so sweet it makes his teeth ache.

"My favorite color is the color that looks at me now."

Satoru's eyebrows shot up and his eyes blew wide open. He blushes and a sheepish smile dances on his face. When Suguru reaches his hand over to caress a blushed cheek, Satoru swats his hand away and shouts in his face, "WAKE UP!"

Suguru remembers the way his heart hammered in his throat after he woke up from that dream. He never laughed the way he did in his dream in real life. Satoru would ask him often to stop holding in his laughs when he told a really good joke.

He brings himself back to reality where Satoru is still staring at him with crazed eyes and a stance like he's ready to pounce any second.

A few more seconds pass and a bell dings in the distance.

Suguru remembers. He remembers a comment he made and his mouth becomes the Sahara. The first words he told Satoru. How could he forget them?

"You need a blindfold. Your eyes are disgustingly blue."

His stomach is in knots and he remembers a few other comments he's made in passing, insulting Satoru's eyes. Is that why he'd never look him in the eye for more than a second? Did Satoru take those words to heart? He knows that Suguru didn't actually mean them. He knows, right?

Fear grabbed him in its embrace.

-

(I'm going to stop here. I had an idea and wrote all this in a few minutes. As you can tell, I rushed thru it like hell. Should I expand on this story? Why do I already miss them? There's so much more I want to write but I'm hungry so bye satosugu and you who's reading this)

[no-one-says-hi]

Six Eyes