Gojo Satoru - better known as his stage name GO/JO - has it all. Fame, wealth, adoring fans. It was the kind of life that many people could only dream of.
But being Japan's top idol isn't easy. Beneath the pressure of the long days, his management breathing over his shoulder and micro-analysing his every move, and the constant pressure to be perfect, Satoru craves something real.
He finds it in Sukuna, the rough-around-the-edges frontman of the rockband Cursed Shrine, who encourages Satoru to leave the mould that has been his world since he was a teenager.
Now, Satoru stands at the brink of a precipice: will he remain safely within the increasingly stifling bubble he had known all his life and put on the picture-perfect smile, or take the leap and grasp for something real?
Inspired by this amazing art (used in header) by the wonderful @to00fu and this amazing fanfic by ChocolateGranola on AO3. Dividers made by the wonderful @belimah, tysm pookie <33
ִֶָ☾.⋆˙⟡ Contents: Musician AU, rockstar Sukuna, idol Satoru, Sukugo, Established relationship, Secret relationship, specific warnings in masterlist and chapters - none of the abuse happens between Satoru and Sukuna
Track 1: They were born of dust
ִֶָ☾.⋆˙⟡ Chapter warnings: implied/referenced (child) abuse and conditioning, Sukuna curses a lot
ִֶָ☾.⋆˙⟡ Words: 5k
ִֶָ☾.⋆˙⟡ A/N: Here it is!!! I'm so excited to share this AU with you all!!! I am still working on Satoru's playlist, but in the meantime, here is Cursed Shrine's playlist (in no particular order).
Although I have done some research into the idol industry, I am also taking some creative liberties. This fic is not meant to be a super realistic portrayal of the industry, although it intents to exaggerate and thus question some parts of it. This fic is mainly made for fun and it shall remain that way.
On a lighter note, this is what Sukuna's guitar looks like. Enjoy!
Satoru checks himself in the mirror one last time. Just to be sure, he tells himself, and not because he's nervous. He's the Gojo Satoru, Japan's most beloved idol - he doesn't do nervous.
Still, his eyes trail over his appearance in the mirror, making sure everything is perfect. His Cursed Shrine band t-shirt and tight leather pants, check. Beanie and sunglasses to hide his eyes and hair, check. Silver chain accessories, check. Sukuna's leaher jacket? Check. Earplugs for the concerts and painkillers for headaches, check and check.
He looks the part of being just a rock band's random fan. Which is probably partly - okay, mostly - because Sukuna and Suguru suggested this outfit. He'll blend in seamlessly, and that's the point. He's done it before, and he will do it again.
He exits his penthouse, dodging Toji - his bodyguard - like a routine. And still, his heart hammers in his throat and his palms are sweaty like it's the very first time again. He closes the door slowly, gently, willing it to not make a sound. He waits five beats. When Toji doesn't immediately round the corner and tackles him to the floor, Satoru deems it safe enough and walks towards the elevator.
He curses the chain accessories every step of the way. He's being so loud, what if Toji hears and sniffs him out like a bloodhound-
Every little sound seems amplified, louder than it has any right to be. Only when he's entered the elevator and the doors are closed, does he breathe a little easier.
He pats his pockets for his phone. His main - and as far as his management is concerned, his only - phone is left in the apartment; he's untraceable for once. He sends a message with the burner phone Sukuna got for him.
(18:11) Me: On my way! \(^_^)/
He pockets the phone as the elevator chimes, and continues his way to the metro. His long strides eat up the distance, and fifteen minutes later, he goes down the stairs to the entrance. He enters the carriage without being recognized. Still, the fear remains. One slip-up, and it's over.
What if the beanie slides off? What if someone bumps into him and his sunglasses fall down and someone recognizes his eyes? What if someone takes a single look at him and realizes who he is from his height and stature alone-
The carriage stops at the first station, people exit and enter. No one bumps into him, and Satoru breathes a little easier.
Breathe, Satoru. Four to go - he has this route memorized. Second stop. Satoru checks his phone - still no reply. Not unusual, but he would like a distraction right now.
A child stares. Satoru has mini-heart attack, thinking she recognizes him - but there is no recognition in her eyes. Regardless, he flashes a smile before realizing that's probably weird for a normal person to do and quickly looks away before her mother notices.
He adjusts his beanie despite knowing no white is peaking through. The third stop pulls up. He stands up for an elderly couple, and they give him a look - not quite hostile but also not that friendly either, and Satoru is reminded once more of the attire he's wearing.
The fourth stop passes, and the back of his head prickles from all the stares. He pretends to be busy with his phone.
He gets out at the fifth stop, transferring to the next ride. Two stops, then he needs to get out to get to the venue. His phone chimes.
(18:43) Kuna <3: Good. You know where to go?
(18:43) Me: I do! ^-^
(18:43) Me: It'll be a 10 minute walk, I can handle that!!
(18:44) Kuna <3: Are you sure? One of us can come pick you up.
Satoru smiles. Leave it to Sukuna to be so concerned about his sheltered ass going somewhere unknown.
(18:45) Me: I'm sure!! I can always ask someone if I need to.
(18:45) Kuna <3: Just… remember what you're wearing, pretty boy. You don't exactly scream 'approachable' to a lot of people right now. I want you to be safe.
Satoru frowns as he reads that, worrying his lip between his teeth as he thinks back to the elderly couple a few minutes ago. Right. He's not exactly wearing his usual clothes right now…
(18:46) Me: I know… But I can handle it, I promise!
He has to stop himself from typing 'but you can send someone to come get me if you're that concerned.' No. He could do this - he would do this. Sukuna said he should be more independent, so he's doing that. He can survive 22 minutes of public transport and a ten-minute walk. They'd practiced this.
He pulls himself out of his thoughts when his stop pulls up. He sends a text in a hurry, not responding to whatever Sukuna sent in response.
(18:48) Me: Gtg my stop's here. C ya in 10!
Then, he's rushing out, each step taking him closer and closer to the venue.
BASEMENT BAR is one of the smaller venues Curses has been playing at recently - they're getting bigger and bigger each year, and Satoru couldn't be prouder. Still, Sukuna thought it would be nice to play at a smaller venue, to go back to their roots, as he'd said. Regardless of where they performed, if his own schedule allowed, Satoru would be there to cheer them on.
There's already a few people waiting outside when Satoru arrives. He joins the queue, sending Sukuna another text.
(19:01) Me: Joined the line! See ya inside, you guys are going to kill it! Say hi to the others for me!! ^-^
Satoru doesn't expect a reply. He knows the craziness that goes on before a performance, and he's sure the band is busy with their pre-show rituals. So he pockets the phone and waits, eventually getting pulled into a conversation with some other excited and eager fans.
The conversation flows surprisingly easy - which might be because Satoru lets them do most of the talking. He chimes in where needed, and their excitement is infectious.
''Oh, I just love Malevolence,'' Satoru gushes when they ask him what his favourite album is. ''The composition is amazing. It's so raw, you know? Beautiful lyrics-''
''Yeah, once you get past the screaming,'' the girl with light brown hair in a bob says lightly.
''Right? I had to Google it,'' the boy adds, earning a round of chuckles. His black hair seems to defy gravity and hair products.
''Anyway, as I was saying,'' Satoru grins excitedly. Oh, he could gush about the band's music for hours if given half a chance. ''The lyrics are so real, you know? Everything fits together so nicely. They really worked hard on it.''
Satoru would know, he'd been there during some of the drafting sessions.
The girl nods, her bob swaying with the movement. ''Yeah, they did! The break ended up being good for them, I think. We got a kickass album out of it, at least.''
Murmured agreement, and then there's a lull in the conversation. It's not necessarily awkward, but there's an air of expectation that throws Satoru for a loop.
And then it hits him. Right, this isn't a damn interview. ''Oh, what is you guys' favourite album?''
The girl grins like a shark smelling blood. The boy sighs, shooting Satoru a look.
''I love Slicing Exorcism,'' she gushes. ''Like, don't get me wrong, their new album is great, but Slicing Exorcism, it's just one of the OG's, right? I like that you can hear some distortion in some of the songs. Some of the newer songs sound too… polished, in my opinion.''
Satoru nods along. ''Yeah, the rawness does suit them,'' he agrees.
''Right?'' the girl continues. ''Like, Sukuna's screams are sooo chilling, and Choso's voice is just so haunting, right Fushiguro?'' she grins while nudging the boy. The boy - Fushiguro - just rolls his eyes.
Satoru freezes. Fushiguro?
The boy does have the same black hair as Toji, even if it's spikier.
… No, it's probably a coincidence. There's many other people in Japan with black hair and the surname Fushiguro. He's being paranoid, drawing conclusions that aren't there.
''Yeah, whatever,'' Fushiguro sighs, unaware of Satoru's internal panic. ''I said that once. Four years ago.''
Satoru laughs in sympathy, but his heart is still hammering in leftover panic. ''Oh, she's still not letting you live that down, huh?''
Fushiguro shoots him a withering look. Satoru smiles in return, disarming. ''Hey, just saying! So what's your favourite album then, Fushiguro?''
''It's Polymorphic Soul,'' the boy says bluntly.
Satoru blinks. The very first album. He nods sagely. ''That's a good one as well.'' He grins. ''Huh. It's almost as if they only have good albums.''
Then, the line finally started moving, and excited murmurs ripple through the queue. Satoru, Fushiguro and the girl - Kugisaki, he learns - continue talking as they slowly move along the line.
Their tickets get scanned, and then they're in. The crowd is already buzzing with excitement. Some people are already buying merch, others have already entered the concert hall. Near 8pm, the floor is packed, and the fans are buzzing with excitement.
The lights dim. Some people are already screaming, cheering, and Satoru is cheering right along with them.
Mahito, the drummer, walks on stage. His pale hair looks almost blue in the stage lights, and he's wearing his usual shawl. As always, he's not wearing shoes, a fact Satoru notices as he hops on the riser and does a silly twirl. It has people going feral already. He laughs and hypes the crowd up wordlessly before sitting down behind the drum kit.
Choso and Suguru - the background singers, and bass guitar and lead guitar respectively - enter the stage next. Choso looks like he stepped straight out of a Hot Topic with his black jeans, ripped shirt and chain accessories. Suguru is showing off the dragon tattoos that coil around his arms, wearing a ripped tank top and baggy pants. While the guitarists take their positions, Mahito appears to be fucking around with the drums while the audience screams their devotion, but Satoru knows better.
A second later, the building shakes as the speaker's howl with the sound of Sukuna's rhythm guitar - a Jackson X Series Rhoads RRX24, in red, with black bevels. Yes, Satoru had it memorized. The rockstar had only told him about it a billion times.
The lead singer steps out of the left side wing, and the crowd loses it. Fushiguro and Kugisaki clutch at his arms - Fushiguro looks like he's experiencing a religious experience, and Kugisaki is jumping up and down, screaming Satoru's ear off.
Not that Satoru is much better, although he's also a little busy drooling over- ahem, admiring his boyfriend.
Two metres of corded muscles paired with inked skin that glows and shifts like sin under the stage lights walks on stage, and it's all Satoru can do not to jump him this instant. A mean grin is etched onto his face, and he cocks a slitted eyebrow as he observes the audience - his gaze seeming to linger on Satoru for a moment. A hint of satisfaction flashes in his gaze before it's gone as quickly as it came.
''Are you ready?'' Sukuna roars into the mic, all dominance and hard edges. The crowd cheers in return.
Sukuna snorts derisively - and fuck that should not be as hot as it is - and glances at his bandmates. Choso and Suguru shake their heads, playful grimaces on their faces. Sukuna tsks.
''I said,'' he drawls. ''Are you fucking ready?!''
The crowd roars, and Sukuna laughs. ''Oh, yeah, that's more like it. You guys think they deserve a show?''
The answer is Choso's bass bleeding through the speakers, and Mahito joining in a second later with a beat that rattles Satoru's bones.
They play Convergence first. After Choso's slow, enchanting start, the song takes a turn when Sukuna starts screaming into the microphone. As always, the audience eats it up. They cheer, they scream, Satoru is certain he even sees someone crying.
A couple songs pass, and then Fushiguro decides to enter the mosh pit. Satoru's attention is divided between the band on stage and Fushiguro as he tracks the boy through the blur of bodies and sharp limbs like a concerned parent. Sukuna only eggs it on, an almost manic grin on the rockstar's face.
''All right, all right, break it up,'' Sukuna says in between songs, gesturing this way and that. ''I want it split down the middle, c'mon. Yeah, gimme a wall of death, motherfuckers.''
The crowd obeys instantly, splitting like the sea did for Moses. And Satoru gets pulled right in the middle of it. Before he can question if he's really going along with this or if he should go to the safety of the bar area, Sukuna speaks again.
"Yeah, that's more like it," Sukuna's voice croons through the speakers. "Now, we'll play Distorted Body, and when the beat drops, I better not see a single person left standing. You got that?"
The crowd cheers. Their excitement is infectious - some people are jumping up and down, others are shaking out their limbs.
The song starts, climbing slowly under the bass and Suguru's suave voice…
A beat.
Then, chaos.
Mahito starts a brutal drum beat, supported by Sukuna's riffs. The crowd moves, colliding in the middle. It's a mess of limbs and bruises and exhilaration - camaraderie.
Satoru, swept up by the crowd's energy and Sukuna's encouragements from their earlier call - ''Live a little, doll. Just… don't worry about anything else at our show, got it? See where the night takes you.'' - is right in the middle of it, flanked by Fushiguro and Kugisaki.
They get thrown around quite a bit - ''Like human pinball,'' Mahito had once cackled, and Satoru had laughed along like he knew what that meant, and now he does - and Satoru quickly loses sight of his companions. He is, after all, a little busy trying to keep standing, avoiding elbows, and keeping his sunglasses on his face.
They manage to regroup as Cursed Shrine starts their next song. Satoru is still winded, his muscles ache, and he's sure there's bruises forming already. Yet there is a wide grin on his face, and his eyes sparkle as he pushes his sunglasses further up his nose.
He feels alive. The adrenaline is still coursing through his body as he pulls the teens closer by their shoulders, not noticing their stunned looks.
He hadn't noticed his beanie had slipped back.
''That was awesome!'' he says brightly, shouting to be heard over the music. ''Like, wow!''
''First time, then?'' Kugisaki asks a little too smoothly, but Satoru doesn't hear or notice the edge in her voice. He just nods.
''Yeah! Never done it before,'' he replies. ''Probably the last time, too. I think I'll have bruises for weeks.''
Kugisaki laughs, but it sounds just a little forced. This time, Satoru does notice. But before he can question her, Choso's bass cuts through the air, heavy and loud, cutting right through his soul.
They focus back on the stage, like dogs waiting for a ball to get thrown. Sukuna laughs into the mic.
''Damn,'' he laughs. ''Y'all are insatiable. Slobbering like dogs, the lot of ya.'' Mahito cheers, and Sukuna rolls his eyes. ''Ignore his freak ass-'' the audience cheers in response- ''… or not. Fuckin' Christ, it's not like he needs to become even weirder.''
A ripple of laughter goes through the crowd. Sukuna snorts, shakes his head - and holy shit are those droplets of sweat shaking out of his hair? - and picks up the microphone stand. He brings it over to Mahito.
''I hope you fuckers know what you're asking for,'' Sukuna sighs, as though he's making a great personal sacrifice. ''Alright, Mahito has full control over the mic while I chug this water bottle.''
And with that, Sukuna uncaps his water bottle, brings it to his lips, and starts chugging. Mahito immediately starts yapping.
''Hi, hello!'' he cheers into the mic, voice slightly raspy. People cheer and whistle. ''Yeah, yeah, I know, I'm amazing. So, you guys want the nasty shit, huh? Ohhh, how about that time-''
But for Satoru, Mahito's yammering fades into the background. Besides, he's sure he's heard the story before. No, Satoru's eyes are drawn to the way Sukuna is chugging the water - barely even breathing as his Adam's apple works with each swallow. The tattoos shift over an unfairly muscular neck with each minuscule movement, and Satoru has to swallow thickly before he starts drooling. A bead of either sweat or water rolls down his jugular - truthfully, Satoru doesn't care much for what it is. He wants to lick it up, follow it back to the lips that are currently wrapped around the finish of the bottle-
Their eyes meet as Sukuna takes the final sip, and the corner of his mouth lifts ever-so-slightly. The rockstar keeps eye contact as he slowly wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. The hairs on the back of Satoru's neck stand up, and fuck, there's no way Sukuna isn't doing this on purpose.
But two can play that game.
Slowly, deliberately, Satoru's hand grazes the hem of his shirt. He raises it an few centimetres, revealing a sliver of pale skin, and Sukuna's gaze gets drawn to it like a moth to a flame.
Gotcha.
Satoru smirks. The air between them is filled with electricity.
He almost forgets where he is until he hears Fushiguro murmur a horrified ''Holy shit'' in response to Mahito's story.
Satoru winks at Sukuna, and gestures at Mahito. Sukuna takes the hint, sighs, and pulls himself together. He snatches the mic back mid-rant about… roaches? And cakes? Yeah, Satoru is glad he got so distracted.
''Alright, time's up,'' Sukuna grunts, voice slightly rough. ''I hope you got what you wanted. Mahito, if I hear your voice within the next five minutes, I'm leaving you behind.''
Mahito just sticks his tongue out in response. Sukuna sighs again. ''Choso, Suguru, y'all got any sanity left after that?''
Choso shakes his head, while Suguru leans closer to his mic to snort a ''Nope.''
Sukuna grins. ''Thought so. Time to go batshit Insane, then!''
The drums and bass start barely a second after Sukuna has stopped talking, and the crowd roars back to life. Suguru and Sukuna join in a moment later, the song fast-paced and loud.
Satoru doesn't hear the shutter of the camera over the heavy bass and guitar riffs. Nor does he see the way Kugisaki's fingers fly over her keyboard and then post something. He's too busy watching the band perform as he sings along with the music.
Eventually, during a lull in one of the songs where it's just Mahito and Suguru playing, Sukuna leans closer to the mic.
''We have a little surprise for y'all,'' he rasps into the mic. ''I'm sure you know this song already, yeah? I'm sure you're wondering how we're gonna do this next part.''
He smirks as the crowd yells in agreement. ''Well, I've invited someone to make this work. Be nice to him, you feral fucks.''
He walks over to the right wing of the stage, his strides purposeful. Seconds later, he returns with his arm wrapped protectively around a mini-him. Same pink hair, same facial features. Only the teen's eyes are rounder, his frame is thinner, and he lacks the myriad of tattoos Sukuna sports. He's wearing ear protection, Satoru notes fondly. Probably Sukuna's condition to have him join.
''Everyone,'' Sukuna says into the mic while Suguru adjusts his own microphone stand to be at height with the teen. When he's done, he ruffles the kid's hair, earning a playful scowl. ''Give a warm welcome to my nephew, Yuuji.''
The crowd explodes into cheers and coos - they're already loving Sukuna's adorable nephew.
Mahito chortles at the crowd's excitement, and yeah, it's probably the loudest they've been this evening.
''Damn,'' Sukuna smirks, turning to Yuuji. ''Ready, kid?''
Yuuji adjusts his earpiece and nods.
Sukuna lets the crowd remain in suspension for a little longer, before suddenly speaking.
''Now I lay thy down to sleep.''
''Now I lay thy down to sleep,'' Yuuji repeats. The crowd is silent for once, enraptured by the moment.
''Pray the lord my soul to keep.''
''Pray the lord my soul to keep.''
''If I die before I wake.''
''If I die before I wake.'' The eye contact Sukuna forces is intense, and yet Yuuji meets his gaze, unflinching.
''Pray the lord my soul to take.''
''Pray the lord my soul to take.''
Sukuna grins as he turns back to the crowd and continues the song. He hooks his arm around Yuuji's shoulder, pressing his nephew against his side as he ruffles his hair, too.
The crowd goes feral, cheers and shouts ringing out from all sides as the audience soaks in the contrast between Yuuji's sweet demeanour and Sukuna's rough appearance. And Satoru gets it. Yuuji is simply to adorable to hate. Fushiguro and Kugisaki start a chant next to him, and he wastes no time joining in.
''Yuuji! Yuuji! Yuuji!''
When the song fades out, the crowd is still chanting Yuuji's name. The teen looks flustered, clearly unfamiliar with the stage and having people adore everything he does. Sukuna laughs, and Suguru and Choso crowd closer to high five him and ruffle his hair again.
''You know, I would've said 'give it up for Yuuji','' Sukuna drawls into the mic, ''but I'm sure you lot are already doing that.''
''Yeah, but it could be louder,'' Choso cuts in, making Yuuji flush even more.
''What- No, they don't need to-''
Yuuji's protest gets cut off as the crowd swells into a deafening cheer, everyone loving the uncle-nephew moment. The flustered teen mumbles a ''thank you'' into the microphone, bows, and practically flees from the stage.
''Alright, alright, calm down, you monsters,'' Sukuna shakes his head. The crowd finally calms down. ''You were nice like I asked, good job.''
Satoru's brain short-circuits for a moment at the praise. He knows it's not directed at him specifically, and yet he shudders the same as when it's just Sukuna and him and the former calls him a 'good boy' in that voice-
''And because you were so nice, we're feeling generous,'' Sukuna continues. ''So, we'll play a few more extra songs, just for you. You fuckers better appreciate the deal while it lasts!''
The crows roars back to life, and Satoru's heart just about stops when Sukuna's smirk - sharp and lively and cocksure - gets directed at him. The moment passes when Sukuna hits a chord, and the show continues - wild and free and untamed.
Two hours pass in what feels like only half an hour.
Fushiguro and Kugisaki want to check out the merch, and so Satoru says his goodbye. He has places to be, after all.
Getting backstage is easy. With the flash of his ID and a look over his sunglasses, the bodyguards part, and Satoru enters the sprawling halls. Finding the band, however, proves to be more difficult than he had hoped. He comes across a dead end twice before finally finding the right room - the one with the taped-on label Cursed Shrine.
He knocks and opens the door.
Choso has Mahito in a headlock, the latter flailing weakly. Sukuna watches them with an unimpressed stare as he sits on the couch, beer in hand. Suguru is sprawled on the other couch, looking at the ceiling. Yuuji is nowhere to be found - maybe he's already headed home, maybe he's with friends.
But as soon as he enters, four pairs of eyes snap over to look at him. The guys relax as soon as they see him, and Sukuna's eyes softened so much it made Mahito gag.
''Hey,'' Sukuna says fondly, already pulling him into his lap as soon as Satoru is close enough. ''There's my bias.''
Mahito gags louder. Even Suguru snorts. ''Seriously?''
Sukuna's hand on his waist tightens possessively, and he opens his mouth to respond. But a peck on his cheek from Satoru makes the words die on his tongue.
''What? I think it's cute.'' At his friends' unimpressed stares, he caves. ''… Okay, maybe a little funny. But mostly cute!''
''Yesterday he went on a tangent about how the whole industry is predatory and parasocial, and now he's calling you his 'bias','' Choso says dryly. ''This is worse than when he's calling you princess or doll.''
''Hey,'' Sukuna says, at the same time Satoru asks: ''What is wrong with those petnames?''
Suguru and Choso exchange a glance, which means that Satoru has said something concerning again. He tenses, opening his mouth to backtrack, when Sukuna's arms tighten around him in a squeeze.
''Relax, pretty boy,'' Sukuna rumbles against the shell of his ear. ''You're okay. Yeah? No harm done.''
Mahito nods. ''Yeah, man. It's just… Those names, they're a little…''
Choso picks up as Mahito trails off. ''Feminine? Like, nothing wrong with that, but… Well, I guess we hadn't expected you to like those petnames so much. Considering the whole 'straight masculine playboy' image you've got going on.''
Satoru snorts. ''You do know that's fabricated, right?''
Suguru squints at him, a concerned and protective gleam in his eyes. ''We know, but still. You do like the petnames, right?''
Satoru laughs softly at their concern, and he leans into Sukuna's chest more. ''Yeah, I like them. They make me feel… safe. Wanted.'' He flushes. ''I dunno, is that weird to say?''
Sukuna presses a kiss to the nape of his neck. ''Not at all, doll. You like what you like. Ain't no goddamn thing wrong with that, you hear me? If they make you feel cherished, I'll say them as many times as you want.''
''Christ, you are so whipped, man,'' Suguru snorts, a small grin on his face. ''I'm honestly shocked you haven't tried to write him a love song yet.''
Sukuna scoffs. ''Please. As if I need to write a love song for Toru to know how much I love him. 'Sides, he wants to keep this private, so I ain't doing shit without his permission.''
''That is so sickeningly sweet,'' Mahito croons. ''I think I'm getting cavities. The fuck happened to our tough, badass frontman, huh?''
Satoru can feel Sukuna's eyeroll.
''What, didn't you see him on stage?'' Satoru teases. ''He was as tough and badass as ever. You all were.''
Mahito's mock-arrogant ''Yeah, we know'' was expected, as was Suguru's genuine smile. Sukuna's arms squeeze him again. Then, Choso speaks, squinting at him.
''How do you do that?'' he asks. ''Like… Christ, Satoru. Even with the company breathing down your neck as it is, you're still so…'' he gestures at Satoru. ''… bright.''
Satoru shrugs with a sheepish smile. ''Heh, I, uh, I don't know. I guess I just…'' he struggles with the words. ''… got used to it.''
''Choso's question was rhetorical, pretty boy,'' Sukuna murmurs softly. ''It didn't need a serious answer.''
Oh. Satoru feels his cheeks flush in embarrassment, but Sukuna continues before he can start apologizing. ''Now, why don't we move away from the heavier topics, and you can use that pretty voice of yours to tell us your thoughts about the concert.''
Satoru immediately brightens. ''Oh my God, you guys killed it again!'' he gushes. ''I loved the energy, and the crowd ate it up! The songs flowed so well, and you killed the crowd work-''
''The crowd work? You mean when you two were too busy eyefucking to hear a word Mahito was saying?'' Suguru teases. Satoru flushes a brilliant red while the rest of the guys laugh.
''H-Hey! I wasn't- We didn't-''
''Sweetheart,'' Sukuna interrupts with a chuckle. ''You looked at me like you wanted to devour me.''
Satoru feels his face burning, and swats at Sukuna half-heartedly. ''Shut- Shut up…''
''Make me,'' Sukuna replies easily, a shark-like grin on his face. ''Come to think of it… where's my post-concert kiss?''
Satoru rolls his eyes, but leans in regardless. Their lips press together, short and sweet but perfect, and for a moment, everything is alright again.
''I cannot,'' Choso laments into his hands. ''You two sicken me.''
''Aww, don't be so homophobic, Choso,'' Sukuna teases, pulling away from Satoru. His hand comes up to take off the beanie, throwing it on the couch next to them, and he starts running his hand through Satoru's soft strands. Satoru hums happily and leans into the affectionate scratching at his scalp.
''I'm not-'' Choso protests, but groans. ''Oh, well played, asshole.''
Satoru chuckles, quickly becoming putty underneath Sukuna's gentle hands. The rest of the band continues bickering and talking about the concert, and Satoru occasionally chimes in.
Suddenly, in the middle of Suguru's sentence, Mahito lets out a loud, ''Oh fuck'' and it sounds just horrified enough to grab everyone's attention. Satoru sits up a little straighter, glancing at the drummer, who is staring at his phone with a look of pure dread.
Seconds later, Sukuna's, Choso's and Suguru's phones chime with a message - whatever Mahito had seen has been sent to their groupchat.
With a slightly amused look of 'what is this idiot doing now', Sukuna pulls out his phone and opens the message. Satoru tries to read whatever Mahito had sent, but Sukuna leans away, blocking Satoru's view.
''Kuna,'' Satoru whines, not liking the fact that he's being left out. Especially now that everyone is making several expressions of 'oh fuck'. ''What's going on?''
Sukuna's brow is furrowed, and his jaw clenches. He shares a look with the others, before sighing and turning the phone screen.
There, on a news site, letters unmistakable and bolded:
TOP IDOL GO/JO ATTENDS METAL BAND CURSED SHRINE CONCERT
Beneath it, his side profile, clearly taken from a phone. Unmistakable white hair, his beanie slipped back so far it's barely hanging on. The sunglasses have partially slipped down his nose as well, and his mouth is open in a wide, untamed grin as he screams along with the lyrics.
He looks vibrant. Unguarded. Real.
Unpolished. Imperfect.
Well, Satoru thinks as he stares at the phone screen. Shit.
Comments are much appreciated! ^-^ And yes the song that Sukuna sang with Yuuji is Enter Sandman by Metallica.
💿 Summary: The consequences start to sink in, and Satoru panics. Luckily, Sukuna (okay, and the rest of Cursed Shrine) are there to help him.
💿 Words: 7.6k
💿 A/N: For returning readers, I changed a few minor things about chapter 1 (now titled as tracks). Firstly, 2am me should not be trusted to edit, so I changed every 'Nobara' to 'Kugisaki'. I also added in a little more padding to Satoru sneaking out, and added in a small scene where Satoru tenses at Fushiguro's name (because obviously that's also Toji's last name). In my opinion, it's not necessary to re-read the whole chapter because the changes are rather small, but feel free to do so anyway!
💿 TRIGGER WARNINGS: Satoru has some internal reactions due to his conditioning/trauma. Most are small, moreso concerning, but there's two big ones I want to mention here.
There's a depiction of a panic attack. To skip it, skip from ''He watches, feeling as though he's looking through a lens,'' to ''Slowly, ever so slowly, Satoru's breathing begins to even out.''.
There's also a comment Mahito makes about Satoru's weight that sets off some thoughts that may be seen as triggering, especially to those with an or recovering from an eating disorder. Skip from ''''Aww, did she give you the motherly treatment when you met her?'' Mahito cooes.'' to ''Now is not the time.'' to avoid it.
I don't think there's any other triggers, but if there are, feel free to tell me and I'll adjust the warnings accordingly.
Now, onto the chapter. I had so much fun writing this. Satoru is going Through It >:)
''Yaga-sama is going to kill me," Satoru whispers, still staring at the phone screen.
The hushed conversation around him dies as the members of Cursed Shrine hear his words.
There's a hand on his chin as Sukuna forces his gaze away from the phone to look at red, concerned eyes.
"Someone took a picture of you and uploaded it without your consent, and you're more concerned about your manager?" Sukuna's voice is low.
"I mean, uhm, yes?"
The silence that follows is loud. Satoru glances over to find the guys looking at him in several states of disbelief.
"… What?"
"What 'what'?" Mahito sputters. ''That's not-''
''Normal,'' Choso finishes bluntly.
Suguru sighs, before saying carefully: ''Satoru… someone just invaded your privacy, posted a picture online, and you're only worried about the consequences from your manager?''
''I mean… What else is there to worry about? I'm pretty sure they'll handle the media-'' He cuts himself off. His eyes widen, and his heart feels like it's dropping to his feet before speeding up like a racehorse. ''Oh, shit, the media.''
''… Not quite what we were trying to say,'' Sukuna says, voice still low and almost soothing. Like he's talking to a spooked animal.
''Then what-?''
''Toru,'' Sukuna says, running his thumb over his cheek. ''Sweetheart, I know your view on your privacy and consent is skewed, but… you do realize that just taking a picture of someone without their consent is wrong, right?''
Satoru's brows furrow. Is it wrong, though? His entire brand was built on accessibility, on public appearances. ''But… I'm a public figure. I'm used to people taking pictures. It's fine.''
''It's clearly not,'' Suguru cuts in calmly. ''You're used to people taking pictures in controlled settings.''
Choso, who is leaning into Suguru's side and playing with the bassist's hair, nods. ''Yeah. I mean, you look on the verge of a panic attack.''
Satoru scoffs. But his shaking hands betray his words. ''What? No, I'm fine, guys, really. I just… I'll get through this! I mean, it's not like this is potentially career-ending stuff!''
His own laugh sounds hollow, faked, and too panicked, even to his own ears.
He watches, feeling as though he's looking through a lens, as Suguru and Choso exchange worried glances. Even Mahito looks worried.
Fuck.
''I- I'm fine.'' Is- Is that his voice? Sounding so strangled and small?
Sukuna's arms tighten around him. ''No, you're not,'' the rockstar calls out bluntly, but gently. ''But that's okay.''
It isn't. His entire brand is built on perfection, for God's sake! He's supposed to be fine and pleasing and mentally stable all the time. No amount of pressure was too much, no task too big.
But people has seen him. People recognized him. His disguise had failed. Someone took a picture and uploaded it online. His manager, his PR team, everyone is going to be furious with him. They are going to find out about Sukuna and him, and his career will end-
''-toru. Satoru. Hey, can you hear me? C'mon, pretty boy, take a deep breath.''
Satoru opens his mouth to respond, but all that comes out is a pitiful, choked whine.
His heart feels like it's trying to beat out of his chest.
His shirt is clinging wrong, the jacket too heavy, his pants too tight.
He's shivering and yet he's sweating buckets, and it makes him feel even grosser.
Not even to speak of the bright lights assaulting his eyes, the hum of electricity in the air that he suddenly can't ignore anymore.
Everything feels too hot, too much, too overwhelming-
Warm, calloused hands carefully cradle his face. Satoru's eyes snap open - light immediately assaulting his sensitive eyes - and he winces. And yet, he meets Sukuna's steady but concerned gaze through squinted eyes.
Don't squint, you'll get wrinkles early, a voice that sounds suspiciously like Yaga says in his mind. Satoru tries to relax his eyes, but the light is just too much.
He's sure he looks like a fool.
Someone asks something, and he knows Sukuna answers something. He just can't focus on what, all his senses overloaded to hell and back.
The lights on the ceiling go out, leaving only the atmospheric light.
Satoru's eyes finally relax. This is already more bearable.
''Satoru,'' Sukuna's voice, steady, finally cuts through the noise in his mind. ''Did you hear what I said? Breathe, babe.''
Finally, the command processes, and Satoru obeys on pure instinct. He gasps, inhaling a lungful of oxygen.
''There you go. Not too fast now. In, hold, and out.''
Satoru follows. His breaths are shaky and still too fast, but Sukuna praises him anyway.
''That's it. Good boy. In through your nose, hold it, out through your mouth. Again. Yeah, just like that.''
Slowly, ever so slowly, Satoru's breathing begins to even out. The invisible vice around his throat begins to loosen, and his shoulders loosen a fraction.
He's nowhere near relaxed - when is he ever truly relaxed? - but it's not as bad as it had been.
''I'm gonna run my hand through your hair,'' Sukuna says suddenly. ''Is that alright? We'll figure this out. Okay? You just relax, princess. We've got you.''
True to his word, Sukuna guides his head down so Satoru is laying on his lap. Instinctively, he curls in on himself, his knees folded close to his stomach. His hands flounder for a moment, before finding purchase on Sukuna's knees.
''Relax, babe,'' Sukuna murmurs from above him. ''Your feather-light ass isn't gonna hurt me if you lay your full weight on me.''
Satoru huffs and opens his mouth to retort, but nothing comes out. As if sensing his troubles, Sukuna's hand comes down to soothe through his hair.
It's nice.
He's also weirdly exhausted. He'd been so full of energy after the concert, but now, it's like his limbs are filled with lead, his brain a little foggy.
'''M tired,'' Satoru mumbles, breaking through the conversation that he hadn't been listening to.
He should have been listening. This was about him, probably. It was important. They were his friends, and he valued their time and energy. He couldn't slip like this-
Oh, Christ, he'd cut someone off.
''I'm-'' Satoru starts to apologise, but Mahito beats him to it.
''That's what a panic attack will do to ya,'' he says, not sounding bothered about the interruption. ''Relax. Sleep. We'll update you on the details later.''
''But I- I wasn't tired at all before this,'' Satoru frowns.
''Did you hear what Mahito said? You just had a panic attack, Satoru,'' Suguru explains calmly. ''That takes energy. A lot of it. And with how insane your schedule is… You deserve some rest.''
''But we already see each other so little,'' Satoru objects. His jaw cracks as he yawns, and he winces.
''Yeah, well, we'd rather we help you stay alive by letting you rest when you need it, than push you to stay awake and find you passed out in a ditch somewhere later,'' Sukuna says defensively. ''Doll, we don't mind if you crash. Hell, your body clearly needs it. We don't mind.''
''But-'' His objection gets cut off by Sukuna putting his index finger over Satoru's lips. Blue eyes glare up at Sukuna.
''You got your lens case with you?'' his boyfriend asks, instead of acknowledging the crime he's committing by cutting off Satoru's voice.
Satoru shakes his head. Sukuna hums.
''Mahito, go check if there's a case around, along with some solution.''
''Why me?''
A beat.
''Because.''
Mahito groans and throws his hands up, but gets off the couch regardless, grumbling about 'horrible working conditions' and 'not getting paid enough for this shit'.
Sukuna ignores him.
''I'm guessing you left your glasses at home then?'' he asks Satoru instead. Satoru nods again.
''Of course you did,'' Sukuna sighs, but ruffles Satoru's hair. So he can't be that mad, right? ''Well, if Mahito can't find anything, the lenses might be a lost cause, sweetheart.''
''If you call him a petname again, I'm saying I can't find anything on purpose!'' Mahito yells.
Satoru can't quite see Sukuna's arm from the position he's in, but he's fairly certain there's a middle finger involved.
A few minutes later, Mahito returns to a half-asleep Satoru and an increasingly impatient Sukuna.
''And?'' Sukuna demands as soon as Mahito walks through the door.
''Nothing,'' he responds. ''I even asked the crew, no one has it on them.''
''Damnit,'' Sukuna growls. He pokes Satoru's cheek, whose hand comes up to swat at the painted nail.
''Hey, doll. The lenses might be a lost cause.''
''I mean, it isn't like he doesn't have money to replace them,'' Choso mutters.
''Yeah! Or, like, you can store them in your mouth for now?'' Mahito suggests while he drapes himself over the back of their couch, blue hair spilling everywhere.
Four pairs of eyes just turn to stare at him.
''What? I've heard of someone doing that when they didn't have another option! Or watched a video on it…''
''Was that from Five Minute Crafts?'' Choso asks dryly.
Mahito gasps and clutches his chest dramatically. ''Hey! Don't insult my viewing habits like that!''
Choso raises an eyebrow. Mahito sputters.
''What! Satoru, back me up here!''
''Uh,'' Satoru responds, very intelligently. ''I mean… I don't want to sound rude, but… putting my lenses in my mouth? What if I swallow them? And what of the bacteria?'' A small pause. ''I've heard of that. There are bacteria in your mouth, right?''
''There are,'' Suguru confirms.
''See! Are you trying to take my eyes, Mahito? What if the mouth bacteria think my eyes are a perfect, five-star meal?!''
''I'm… not quite sure that's how it works,'' Choso mutters. Suguru and Sukuna shush him.
''Exactly,'' Sukuna nods sagely. ''No way we're putting Satoru's lenses in his mouth."
Mahito sighs. ''You guys don't appreciate my genius. Fine. Take 'em out, starboy, I'll throw them away for you.''
''Alright,'' Satoru mumbles. He shifts so he's laying with his back on the couch, then reaches up to remove the lenses. He can do this blind. Had to do it practically blind a few times, when the migraines got so bad he couldn't stand any light whatshowever.
When they're removed, he hands them over to Mahito, who grins at him. ''Ohohoho! Lenses worn by the Gojo Satoru! D'you know how much these would go for on the market?''
Sukuna makes a disgusted noise, and even Satoru wrinkles his nose. ''I… don't think I want to know.''
''Me neither!'' Mahito cackles, walking over to the trash and disposing of them.
''You're so weird,'' Choso sighs. He sighs louder when Mahito blows him a kiss. "I'm in a relationship, thanks."
"Ew, imagine," Mahito snickers, wiggling his eyebrows at Choso and Suguru. "I listen, and I do judge."
"You're a menace," Suguru sighs, drawing Choso closer towards himself.
''… Right,'' Sukuna drawls, his attention going back to Satoru. ''Now you can properly rest, babe. No more excuses.''
Satoru hesitates, searching those red eyes. They're steadfast, sure, and a little worried. ''Kuna… Are you sure? I can stay up-''
''We're sure,'' Sukuna interrupts. ''We wouldn't tell you to rest if we weren't sure. You need it, Toru.''
Satoru isn't sure why he inevitably stops resisting. Maybe it's the knowledge that Sukuna - and the rest of the band - are equally as stubborn as him. Maybe it's the fact that he's been fighting bone-deep exhaustion for a good thirty minutes now. Maybe… he knows he won't win the fight this time.
''Fine,'' he murmurs. He curls up on his side, face towards Sukuna's stomach. Almost as if he's hiding from the world, and trusting Sukuna to watch out for him and keep him safe.
It doesn't take long for him to fall into a deep sleep, especially with Sukuna's hand going back to card through his soft hair and the lull of the band's conversation being a soothing background noise.
"Uncle Sukuna!"
Satoru startles awake at the yell. Sukuna's hand, which had been moving but has now paused, keeps him steady on his lap.
A second later, Yuuji bursts through the door, phone in hand. Disbelief and wonder are clear in his tone as he starts rambling.
"You're not gonna believe who was at your concert! The GO/JO! At your concert! Megumi and Nobara saw him, isn't that insane-"
Satoru notices the exact moment the teen stops rambling for long enough to notice the scene in front of him.
Satoru, with his head in Sukuna's lap, looking half-awake, while the rockstar cards his calloused fingers through his hair.
Satoru tries to shoot up, but Sukuna presses a hand to his shoulder and forces him to lay back down.
"Really?" Sukuna drawls, sarcasm so sharp it could cut through concrete. "I hadn't noticed."
Yuuji blinks. Opens his mouth, then closes it. The teen looks bewildered.
''Kid, close your mouth before you catch flies.'' Sukuna sounds downright bored. Still, Satoru can read the slight increase in tenseness in the set of Sukuna's jaw and shoulders, the way his eyes have sharpened.
He's nervous.
It's a weird realization.
In the five years he's known him, Satoru had rarely seen Sukuna nervous. Sukuna was the strong one, the steady one, grinning in the face of danger like a lunatic.
So why was he nervous?
It puts Satoru on edge.
He tries to sit up again, but Sukuna's arm around his chest is iron-clad.
''Sukuna…?'' Satoru asks quietly. Carmine eyes meet his questioning, worried gaze, and Sukuna's eyes soften.
Their tender moment seems to kickstart Yuuji's brain again.
''Oh my God?!'' the teen shrieks. ''You- That's- How- Huh?''
''Yuuji,'' Sukuna rolls his eyes. ''Think before you speak.''
''How can I think?'' Yuuji steps into the room. His phone screen has gone dark from inactivity. ''You all know GO/JO, and you didn't tell me?!''
Sukuna sighs again. ''Yes.''
''Why?!'' Yuuji looks absolutely crushed at the realization that he'd been left out of the loop. Satoru would feel bad for him, if he didn't feel like he was frozen to the spot and spiralling at the same time.
''Because,'' Sukuna gestured at Yuuji, who was nearly vibrating out of his skin. ''We're trying to treat him like a normal person, not some damn celebrity to drool over.''
That made Yuuji pause. A hint of guilt passed over his features.
''… Huh,'' he said. ''I… I guess I didn't think about it like that.''
''Uh-huh,'' Sukuna responded. ''So do you think you can be normal about Satoru being here, or are you going to leave?''
Yuuji's eyes widened. ''No! No, no, no, I can be normal, trust!'' He even did the prayer hands.
Satoru snorted despite himself. Leave it to Yuuji to use teenage slang when discussing something important.
Yuuji's eyes flickered to his. The kid still looked awe-struck, but at least he wasn't freaking out anymore. ''Hi!''
''Hey!'' Satoru waved back, matching the energy despite feeling absolutely wiped. Sukuna tsk-ed at that, but his arm around him loosened now that it seemed like he would get up and bolt any second. ''Nice to meet you, Yuuji! Sukuna's told me a lot about you.''
Satoru watched Yuuji's eyes widen with both dread and excitement. ''… Good things, right?''
''Mhm, and funny ones,'' Satoru said, giving him a reassuring smile. It didn't work as well as he'd hoped, because Yuuji went pale.
''… He didn't share the tattoo thing, did he…?''
''What, that you used to think you'd 'grow' the same tattoos as me when you'd grow older? I didn't tell,'' Sukuna said, like a liar, and sounding smug as hell about it. ''But hey, now he knows. And who knows, maybe those 'tiger stripes' will still come in some day.''
Yuuji makes a noise not unlike a dying seagull. ''Oh my God, uncle…''
''That's adorable,'' Satoru cooed, eyes bright. He could already imagine a young Yuuji looking up at his uncle, wondering when his own 'tiger stripes' would appear.
Adorable.
When the teen didn't look any less mortified, he changed gears.
''Hey, if it's any consolation,'' Satoru shares, ''the first time I met your uncle, I nearly forgot to introduce myself, so.''
''Yeah, but like, you're Gojo Satoru,'' Yuuji said with emphasis. ''You're the one person in Japan that needs no introduction.''
''Well, it was still awkward,'' Suguru chimes in. ''Cuz Satoru was in a disguise - poorly, in hindsight - so we didn't recognize him. So imagine this guy coming up, gushing about the music and all the technical details that only a musician, or an absolutely obsessed fan would know, and we didn't know which it was. Until this guy-'' he shoots Satoru a teasing smirk. ''-goes: 'so, what's your name? Ryoumen Sukuna? Cool, anyway, about that bridge-' and just rambled on and on about music.''
''Yeah, not my finest moment,'' Satoru snorts. The embarrassment still lingers, but the band's good-natured teasing made it a fond memory instead of a bad one.
''I… can imagine,'' Yuuji says. His gaze still lingers curiously between Satoru and Sukuna. ''So… how long have you known my uncle?''
''For…'' Satoru thought back, ''five years now. Wow, time flies!''
''Five years?'' Yuuji repeated, then slowly looked towards Sukuna.
Oh, there was the family resemblance. The 'I'll kill you in your sleep' expression that was, apparently, hereditary.
Sukuna winced. ''Listen-''
"No, hang on," Yuuji said. "What the fuck?!"
"Yuuji-"
"You've known Gojo for five whole years and you didn't tell me?"
"Yuuji-" Sukuna snapped. He didn't even have to raise his voice to draw all attention to him - his voice just got more… intense. Even Satoru's muscles tensed, and this wasn't even directed at him. "Normal. Reactions. Remember?"
Yuuji takes a deep breath. "Yeah, right. Still, this is insane."
Suddenly, the door opens again, and Choso walks in. When had he left?
No matter, because when the bassist spots Yuuji, his face lights up in a way that Satoru has only seen happen around Suguru before.
"Yuuji!" Choso shouts, quickly wrapping him in a bone-crushing hug. Satoru winces in sympathy, but Yuuji seems to have no objections. "My little brother!"
Satoru's head whips to Sukuna so fast he almost headbutts his chin. "His- what?!"
Sukuna sighs, long-suffering. "Not literally. We aren't related to Choso. Still, he's…" He gestures at the pair like that explains anything.
''… He's…?'' Satoru asks, glancing between Choso - who has picked Yuuji up and is spinning him around, much to the teen's delight - and Sukuna, who's watching this with resigned amusement.
''Y'know.'' Sukuna just gestures again. When Satoru only blinks up at him, still confused, Sukuna sighs and runs a hand through his hair.
Fuck, he's getting frustrated. Think, Satoru, what could he mean…?
''I guess you wouldn't really get it, cuz you're an only child,'' Sukuna says slowly, a small crease in his brows. ''Which is nothing against you, pretty boy. I'm just… trying to figure out a way to explain this to you in a way that will make sense.''
Oh. Okay. Sukuna isn't mad at him, thank God. Satoru nods. ''Okay. I'm sorry-''
''Don't,'' Sukuna cuts him off. Satoru feels a warm, calloused palm cradle his jaw, and he immediately leans into the touch. ''You've got nothin' to apologize for, doll. It isn't your fault, so stop saying sorry.''
Satoru swallows at the reminder. ''R-Right, yeah…'' he says, swallowing back another 'sorry'.
If Sukuna notices, he doesn't call him out for it.
''There you go. See, you're fine. The world doesn't end if you don't say 'sorry'.'' Sukuna's eyes flicked back over to Choso and Yuuji. ''Anyway… about those two. We aren't related to Choso, but Yuuji and him do share a brotherly bond, since Choso - and Suguru - often helped me watch the kid.''
Satoru nods. ''Ah, I see, that… makes more sense.'' He preened as Sukuna ruffled his hair.
Calmer now, he settled back against Sukuna's chest, and watched Yuuji and Choso talk excitedly about… something about curses? And sorcerers exorcising them? Probably a TV show, then.
''… Yuuji doesn't know about us, does he?'' Satoru murmurs suddenly.
''No.'' Sukuna glances down at him. ''You asked to keep it private. So I did.''
''Even from your nephew?'' Satoru's heart swells at that. Even after all these years, the reiteration that Sukuna respects his privacy so much, is… astounding.
''Even from him,'' Sukuna nods. ''Only reason my mom knows is because she knows me way too well and kept pushing.''
Satoru huffs. Even then, Sukuna had first asked Satoru permission to tell his mom. ''Yeah, so you've told me. I can't say I'm surprised. Sayo-san can be… persuasive.''
''You can say nosy, it's okay,'' Sukuna snorts.
Satoru nods hesitantly - as if Ryoumen Sayo would suddenly materialize out of thin air when spoken of in this manner.
''She can be… intense. I swear, if she hadn't gone down the rockstar route, she could've been a psychologist. She saw right through me. You two are scarily similar, y'know that?''
''Yep, that's Mamakuna for ya,'' Mahito suddenly chimes in. Satoru locks up, before realizing it's just Mahito.
''Oh, my God, I nearly had a heart attack!'' Satoru says, clutching at his chest. Mahito just grins.
''Anyway, Mamakuna-''
''My mom has a name-''
''Mamakuna,'' Mahito emphasizes, ''is a goddamn legend. She's the coolest woman I've ever met.''
''Some might think she's also the only woman you've ever met,'' Suguru says dryly. Mahito throws a pillow at him.
''Guys, shut the fuck up and let me talk!''
Suguru just sighs, long-suffering, and Sukuna looks like he's regretting waking up this morning.
Satoru, despite having heard this several times, is the only one who still looks somewhat excited.
''Thank you. Now, Satoru, lemme fill you in on a little bit of alternative history. The woman, the myth, the legend: Ryoumen Sayo!'' he even does jazz-hands. ''Pioneer of the screamo genre, amazing vocalist, and fashionista, rolled into a sunshine of a woman.''
Satoru plays along and nods sagely.
''Oooh, are we talking about O-Sayo?'' Yuuji cuts in excitedly.
''Yep,'' Sukuna responds. ''Mahito is on a roll again-''
''She's so cool!'' Yuuji says with stars in his eyes. Sukuna throws his head back and groans.
''Right? Sukuna definitely inherited her stage presence. Damn, what a woman.''
Satoru nods. ''Yeah, she's so cool! And super kind.''
''Aww, did she give you the motherly treatment when you met her?'' Mahito cooes. ''Sounds like her. How many kilos did you gain while you were there?''
It was meant as a joke.
It doesn't land as one.
Satoru tenses, his shoulder hiking up as he looks down at himself. It's been a few months since he's visited, he's sure he'd lost the weight, right? But what if he hadn't?
''Mahito, you fucking fool-'' Sukuna hisses. The glare he sends him is withering.
Mahito blinks, then realizes who he said that to. ''Oh. Ohhh. Fuck, Satoru, I didn't mean it like that-''
But it was clear Satoru wasn't listening. He's still looking down at his midsection, his hands clenched in the fabric of his shirt. There's a frown on his face, calculations already flying through his mind.
His dietitian hadn't mentioned anything, so he'd assumed it was fine. His stage outfits still fit as they should, too. But what if that was a lie? What if they'd just adjusted them around his new, increased weight? What if-
''Babe, pretty boy, look at me.'' Sukuna forces Satoru's gaze back up. Satoru feels his face burn as Sukuna's sharp eyes search his face. ''It's- It's okay. Yeah? O-Sayo fed you well because she cares for you.'' His expression flickers, as if it troubles him to get the next words out. ''And… I can confidently say you haven't gained any weight, Toru.''
''… Really?'' Satoru asks quietly. He glances down at himself again, considering.
''Really,'' Sukuna confirms with a nod. ''That visit was months ago. And with your schedule? You've already burnt off those calories.''
Satoru's shoulders relax a fraction. Luckily, he misses the worried glances the others share with each other - especially Yuuji, who opens his mouth but closes it again when Choso shakes his head.
Now is not the time.
''Okay.'' His gaze slowly raises, and cerulean eyes meet carmine. A small, wobbly smile appears on Satoru's face. ''Thanks.''
''Any time, angel,'' Sukuna responds, voice slightly rough. He presses a kiss to Satoru's forehead, then guides Satoru's head down until he was snuggled against his chest.
At last, there is a moment of silence. Some peace and quiet.
Then-
''So…'' Yuuji says, voice hesitant as he glances between the rockstar and the idol. ''Are you two, like… together?''
After a much overdue explanation and a lot of excited screaming from Yuuji, they finally filter out of the venue's backdoor, ready to call it a night.
''I still can't believe it!'' Yuuji gushes. ''But, also, you two are adorable together!''
''Call me adorable again and I'll show you adorable,'' Sukuna grumbles. But with the way he tucks Satoru against his side, even Satoru has to agree with Yuuji.
''Yuuji, let's go!'' Choso calls from the front of the group, twirling his keys around his index finger. ''You're staying with me and Suguru tonight!''
''Coming!'' Yuuji yells back. Satoru looks up from Sukuna's shoulder at the yelling, but when he's sure it's not directed at him, he relaxes again. Yuuji looks back at the duo. ''It was nice meeting you, Gojo-san.''
Sukuna snorts at the awed politeness in Yuuji's tone, and Satoru just replies with a tired: ''Just call me Satoru.''
He misses the awed look Yuuji sends him as Sukuna hauls them over to his motorcycle.
''You awake enough to not fall off?'' Sukuna teases. Satoru snorts and swats at him.
''Yeah, yeah, I'm awake.''
''Hmm.'' Sukuna smirks at him. ''Alright, pretty boy. C'mon, let's get you on the bike.''
The custom Harley-Davidson shines in the alleyway's neon lights, its red-and-black finish making it look just as dangerous as its owner.
''Stay awake for a bit longer, doll,'' Sukuna warns him as he helps him on the back of the bike. When he's satisfied with Satoru's positioning, he hands him his helmet - custom-fitted, with blue accents to match Sukuna's red ones.
Sukuna hops on the bike, the weight shifting again. He turns on the engine, revving it to Yuuji's delighted hollering further up the alley. Satoru's heart already starts racing with the - by now familiar - adrenaline.
''Hold onto me properly, pretty boy,'' Sukuna warns over the engine before he puts on his own helmet. Then, he grabs Satoru's hands and yanks him forward to make sure Satoru's arms are wrapped around his waist, a move that makes Satoru squeak and blush from the sudden roughness and closeness. ''You remember our tap system?''
Satoru nods, before tapping once.
''Good boy.''
Satoru is glad for the helmet and its visor, because he can feel his cheeks heating up. ''You comfy?'' One tap. ''Good.''
Sukuna revs the engine again, and then they're off. To his credit, Sukuna accelerates slowly, and Satoru is grateful for that. He hasn't been a backpack in a while.
''Still awake?'' Satoru taps. ''Good. I bet the adrenaline's already pumping, eh?''
Satoru flushes, but taps again. He can feel Sukuna's chuckle reverberating through him.
''I'm gonna speed up, hold on tight,'' Sukuna yells over the roar of the engine, and then he does just that.
The street becomes a blur, the buildings whizzing past with a speed that is almost dizzying. Satoru clings tighter to Sukuna, and follows the movement of the bike like Sukuna had taught him.
''You wanna ride with me?'' Sukuna raised an eyebrow, looking him up and down, scrutinizing. It made Satoru straighten his spine.
''Yes!'' Satoru nodded eagerly, eyeing the motorcycle. Yaga-sama always called it a 'death trap' for 'no good, criminal low-lifes'. Up close, Satoru just thinks it looks cool.
''… Really?'' Sukuna cocked an eyebrow. ''It's not for the faint of heart, doll.''
Satoru huffed. ''I know! I still want to try it!''
Sukuna stared, before sighing and shaking his head. ''… Huh. For real?'' There's an almost excited glint in those red eyes. ''Finally ready to enter the rockstar life, huh? Fine. If you think you can handle it…''
''Alright, alright,'' Sukuna gestured to the bike. ''I'm assuming you've never been on one before?''
''No,'' Satoru admitted. ''Is that bad…?''
''No,'' Sukuna immediately reassured, voice softening. ''Of course not. It just means I gotta explain a bit more.''
Satoru bitten his lip as he nodded. It made sense, yet he still felt a little stupid. It wasn't like he'd been around a motorcycle before, but still…
''Hey.'' Sukuna flicked a finger against his forehead. Satoru flinched and rubbed the spot. ''Mind on me, Satoru.''
Satoru. Just the simple act of Sukuna calling him by his first name had Satoru feeling all weird and giddy.
Ever since Satoru had slipped up and revealed that he couldn't remember the last time someone had called him by his first name, the band made an effort to call him 'Satoru' whenever they were in private settings.
Still, when Sukuna called him that, it felt… different. The way his name flowed from his lips, the way Sukuna's voice softened…
''Yeah, I'm paying attention.''
''Good. Now, here's what's important,'' Sukuna walked to the middle of the left side of motorcycle, reached down, and pulled down some sort of metal stick. Then he went to the other side of the vehicle and did the same thing. "These are the passenger's pegs. You'll put your hands on the fuel tank-" he tapped it. "-then put one foot on the peg, swing your other leg over the bike and onto the other peg. Got that?"
Satoru nodded. "Yeah, understood." He walked over to the bike - oh fuck, it was much more intimidating up close - and put his hand on the fuel tank. He put his left foot on the peg.
"… It won't fall over, right?" Satoru asked, cheeks burning in embarrassment.
Sukuna had chuckled. "No, Toru, it won't fall over."
Damn. The sound of that nickname, such a personal thing… He'd never had a nickname before, and it made his heart flutter. "O-Okay, then…"
And then he swung his leg over the bike, as instructed. He untensed only when he was seated on the bike.
''… Huh,'' Satoru murmured. Nothing had happened. The bike was still standing, and he was still alive. ''… Okay.''
''Yeah?'' Sukuna's voice had been surprisingly, almost uncharacteristically, soft. ''Sitting comfortably?''
Satoru nodded. ''Mhm.''
''Ready for me to get on?''
''Yeah, sure,'' Satoru said with false bravado. The knowledge that they would be driving soon…
Sukuna looked at him knowingly. ''Relax. I'll just sit down, and explain everything first. Then we'll put on our helmets, gloves, and go. I'll go slow just for you, okay? No crazy stunts today.''
That… was honestly reassuring. Satoru relaxed a fraction more, his body sagging more naturally into the seat, his back not ram-rod straight anymore.
''Okay. Thanks.''
''Of course, Satoru.'' Sukuna got on the bike in one, smooth motion. It moved under the increase and shift in weight, and Satoru, startled, had clamped onto the first thing he saw: Sukuna's shoulders.
''Relax, Toru,'' Sukuna assured. ''It's just weight distribution. I've got my feet on the ground, the key isn't in the ignition yet, and we're not on a hill. This bike ain't moving unless I want it to move.''
Satoru's fingers untensed the smallest bit. ''… Are you sure?''
''A thousand percent positive,'' Sukuna reiterated. ''We can just stay here and I can talk about the bike and how to ride. We don't have to go out for a ride today if you don't want to.''
Oh.
Satoru found himself relieved about that. Immediately after, the guilt set in - Satoru had been the one to suggest this, after all…
''I, uhm…'' Satoru hesitated.
''You don't gotta decide now,'' Sukuna cut in. ''I'll explain some shit about the bike, then you can decide. Or, if you wanna get off earlier, just tell me.''
''… Alright,'' Satoru said. ''Will do.'' He absolutely wouldn't do that.
And so, Sukuna launched into a detailed explanation about the bike - something about torque, horsepower, suspension, and many other technical details that left Satoru's head spinning.
But then, he started talking about technique.
"Now, this is the important part," Sukuna had said. "How to be a backpack."
"… A backpack?"
"A backpack, you heard right," Sukuna had nodded. "The position we're gonna be in makes it look kinda similar. So, again, the bike's not running and I've got my feet on the ground, so we're not moving. What you wanna do is hold onto me tightly. Either hold onto my shoulders, or around my waist."
He reached back, and guided Satoru into the two positions. Then, he let him go. "Now you."
Satoru repeated the movements in the way Sukuna had shown him. Sukuna hummed, satisfied. "Good. Any preferred position already?"
Satoru, still with his arms wrapped around Sukuna's waist, flushed. "… This one. It feels… safer."
"Good choice." There was a hint of satisfaction in Sukuna's voice, that made Satoru feel… really nice. Like he was making the rockstar proud. ''Then that's what we'll go with. Now, as for what to do during the ride. If I lean right, you lean with me, but not to much. Just follow the movement of my body. What you absolutely do not want to do, is lean in the opposite direction. Got that?''
Satoru nodded. ''I should follow your body's movements,'' he repeated obediently. ''And not lean into the opposite direction.''
''Good. Wanna practice that?''
Satoru hesitated for a moment, before nodding. ''… Sure. Let's- Let's do this.''
''Atta boy,'' Sukuna chuckled, voice low. Satoru's heart did a funny thing in his chest, but Sukuna kept on talking like nothing was wrong. ''Again, I've got my feet on the ground and I'll keep the bike off. We're just leaning for now.''
And then, the bike tilted to the right, shifting under Sukuna's command.
Satoru's heart leaped into his throat and he clung onto Sukuna tightly. His thighs clamped around the bike like he could fall off at any second.
… Nothing happened. They were just… leaning.
Satoru observed the ground for a few moments - it wasn't coming any closer. That was a good sign.
Gradually, his thighs relaxed, even as he still held onto Sukuna rather tightly.
''Relax, pretty boy,'' Sukuna rumbled, and Satoru's thoughts screeched to a halt. Pretty boy.
That… That probably shouldn't make him feel as tingly as he did, right?
''Pretty-?''
''Leaning left,'' Sukuna warned him, moments before the bike shifted again.
Satoru's hands dug into Sukuna's jacket, but now that he knew what to expect, he didn't tense as much. Small victories, he supposed.
''Better,'' Sukuna said. He straightened the bike again. ''Another thing - when we slow down for a red light, it's best if you brace a hand on the fuel tank. Since we're suddenly stopping, that weight is gonna come forward, and it's gonna mess with the balance. And we don't want our helmets to bump together. Ain't your fault, it's just physics, yeah?''
''Yeah. Understood.''
''Good. Lean forward and try it. Good, there you go. Easy, ain't it?''
Satoru nodded. He was sure his red cheeks were visible through the layers of makeup he wore.
''Thought so. Settle back.'' Satoru's hand left the fuel tank and wrapped around Sukuna's waist again.
He yelped as the bike suddenly tilted again, to the left once more. Still, he was already following Sukuna's movements.
''Good, very good.'' Satoru saw Sukuna's shit-eating grin in the left mirror - the bastard had done that on purpose - but… was that a hint of pride in his eyes? ''You're a natural, Satoru. We'll make you an adrenaline junkie in no time.''
Satoru giggled - a little tight with nerves, but the joke worked. ''Yeah, right. I'm sure Yaga-sama would have a heart attack if he saw me like this…''
Sukuna snorted. ''Then let the old man choke on it and die.''
Satoru sputtered something, but Sukuna wasted no more time and turned on the engine. It roared to life beneath them, rattling Satoru to his bones.
''Now, ready for that ride?''
Now, years later, Satoru is just plain excited whenever Sukuna takes him out for a ride.
They'd sure made him into an adrenaline junkie… The feeling of riding with Sukuna still rivals the adrenaline rush of performing on stage for thousands of fans.
''I'll take you to the countryside soon,'' Sukuna called over the roar of the engine. ''Take us up high, get the prettiest views. For now, though, we're goin' home.''
Satoru taps and then squeezes Sukuna's waist in appreciation.
After a ride that feels too short and tastes like freedom, Sukuna parks the bike in the garage. They take the stairs to Sukuna's apartment, with Satoru's hand held protectively in Sukuna's.
The building is a little dated but not overly dirty, and Sukuna's worn apartment door enters their vision soon enough.
Sukuna takes out his keys - the silly little Hello Kitty charm that Satoru got him dangling from the key ring, to match with the Kuromi charm Sukuna had won him at a funfair three years ago - and unlocks the door.
Sukuna lets him in first, and Satoru finally, finally feels like he can breathe again. His shoulders relax, and he sighs and closes his eyes, just basking in the feeling of home.
''You're a dork,'' Sukuna says fondly as he watches Satoru treat his apartment like the first sun after a long, dark winter.
''You love my dorkiness,'' Satoru shoots back, a small smile on his face. Finally, he takes off his shoes, hangs up his coat, and steps out of the entryway into the cozy apartment.
It's still the same as he remembers, industrial as ever. The living room is to his left, with the old, worn leather couch - that still feels much more comfortable than any of Satoru's designer furniture - a flatscreen tv mounted to the wall, and band posters hung up on the opposite wall. There's papers strewn around, unfinished riffs and song lyrics scribbled in Sukuna's meticulous handwriting.
The kitchen is to his right, functional as ever. It's a stark contrast to the living room, completely spotless and organized. Satoru knows where everything is located - Sukuna is very meticulous with how he organises his stuff - but actually cooking anything is… still a work in progress.
Satoru doesn't dwell on it too long, because soon enough, a pair of strong arms wrap around his waist, drawing him against a broad, muscular chest. He sighs contently and leans into the touch.
''This is my favourite side of you,'' Sukuna murmurs against his neck. They just stand there in the hallway, basking in each other's presence. ''All relaxed and loose for once. No idol persona, no pressure to perform. Just you.''
''I barely even know who that is,'' Satoru answers quietly. The truth hangs like a fragile thing in between them. And yet, Sukuna - for all his rough edges and violent past - holds it like something sacred.
''That's okay. We'll figure it out. You don't have to know today, or tomorrow. Hell, even if it takes sixty years and I'll be old and grey and grumpy as hell, I'll celebrate every new thing you discover about yourself, right by your side.''
Satoru's hands come up to grasp at Sukuna's arms, needing the support. He's trembling, he notes distantly.
''I-'' his voice cracks before he can get the words out, but Sukuna seems to understand regardless.
''Shhh, darling, it's alright, I've got you.'' The rockstar tightens his grip, swaying them from side to side. ''It's okay, you're safe. Let it out.''
Satoru's shoulder shake, and he's sure his nails are digging into Sukuna's skin. His vision blurs before he feels something wet roll down his cheek, and he tastes salt.
''I've got you,'' Sukuna murmurs. ''Let it out. Fall apart if you have to. I've got you, Satoru.''
Satoru is not sure why that is the part that finally breaks him.
Maybe it's the unshaking knowledge that Sukuna does have him, that he has loved and supported him unconditionally. Maybe it's the usage of his first name again. Maybe, if he's honest with himself, it's because he's been stretching himself too thin again, the company barely letting him get any rest at all before he's moved to the next performance, the next photoshoot, the next press tour, the next album.
Or maybe, probably, it's a combination of the three.
In any case, he turns around to press himself against Sukuna's chest, clinging to the man tightly. His body shakes with silent sobs, and Sukuna's shirt quickly gets wet with tears.
Sukuna just holds him through it all, rubbing his back, pressing kisses to his hair, and swaying them soothingly. It's all Satoru can do not to burst into tears all over again.
'''m sorry,'' Satoru croaks, when his tears have run out a few minutes later. ''I- I ruined your shirt.''
''Don't be silly.'' Sukuna presses another kiss to his hair. ''It's just fabric. It can be washed.''
And the thing is- Satoru knows. He knows it's just a shirt. He knows it can be washed. And yet, it feels as though he's destroyed not a shirt, but some sort of priceless porcelain bowl. That, even if Sukuna washes it - or if it would be put back together - it would be slightly off. Wrong. Tainted by the memory of what happened.
''Angel.'' Sukuna cups his face between his palms and tilts Satoru's head up. ''Seriously. I'm not mad, okay? In fact, I'm really fucking happy you trust me enough to break down like this, safe in my arms.''
''… I hadn't looked at it like that.''
''I know,'' Sukuna answers. He kisses Satoru's forehead. ''Now, c'mon. We've had a long day. Time for bed.''
The nighttime routine is familiar. Safe.
Satoru reaches into the drawer for the eye makeup remover, cleansing milk, toner, essence, and moisturizer that he knows Sukuna buys for him specifically. The steps are practically mindless by now, ingrained over the years, to the point where he doesn't even really register his own face in the mirror. Just tracking where there's still leftover foundation, where there's wrinkles appearing, where pimples or acne are threatening to appear.
Besides him, Sukuna just brushes his teeth, washes his face with water, and pretends to be busy.
''You're staring,'' Satoru mumbles when he's finished, reaching for his own toothbrush.
''So? I can't even stare at my drop-dead gorgeous boyfriend now?'' Sukuna ribs.
''I'm not even wearing makeup,'' Satoru says through a mouthful of toothbrush and toothpaste. So, what realistically comes out of his mouth is: ''I' noth ev'n wearith ma'up.''
Sukuna understand anyway, and his expression darkens. ''So? You're still gorgeous. No, you're especially gorgeous like this.''
Satoru rolls his eyes, but doesn't press. Neither does Sukuna.
''Let's just go to bed,'' Sukuna sighs, running a hand through his hair. It seems like both of them are too tired to argue right now.
Satoru's fine with that. He doesn't like arguing with Sukuna. It makes him feel all sad and guilty and pathetic.
Satoru leans over the sink, spitting out the toothpaste and rinsing his mouth. ''Yeah, sounds good. I'm… like, so tired.''
Sukuna snorts. ''Very coherent, pretty boy.''
''Oh, shut up,'' Satoru scoffs, before yawning.
This triggers Sukuna, and he yawns too. ''Damn it- To bed. C'mon.''
They settle underneath the blankets, cuddling up against each other. Sukuna's arms wrap around him protectively, and Satoru puts his cold feet against Sukuna's shin to make the rockstar curse and pinch his side. Satoru giggles and tangles their legs instead.
After a while of basking in each other's presence, Sukuna tilts Satoru's head up, pressing a soft kiss against his lips. Completing the ritual.
''Love you.''
''Love you, too,'' Satoru answers, settling back against Sukuna's chest with a small smile.
He falls asleep within seconds.
… I honestly did not expect to like writing Mahito so much. He's my little chaos gremlin. He's giving Remus from Sanders Sides and and I love him so much.
And sorry not sorry for the motorcycle flashback. My gays just ran away from them and took a detour. To be clear, this takes place a while after Satoru met Cursed Shrine, but before he and Sukuna got together.
Feel free to comment anything, I don't bite! Your favourite scenes, theories... Anything at all! :3
💿 Summary: Morning arrives, and Satoru has to go back to his penthouse. Can the feeling of safety that Sukuna provides last in the face of his manager's anger?
💿 Words: 11.3k
💿 A/N: The most important one: Yaga is,,, very OOC in this. I just needed someone to be the scapegoat of this fic, and before season 3, I did not care very much for him. And as an authority figure close to Satoru it just made sense in my mind. Principal → manager y'know? But yeah, Yaga acting like this is just for this fic, dw!
Also, I got my wisdom tooth removed last Thursday, and 99% of this chapter was written with a madness that borders on Lucifer's, fueled by local anaesthetic and painkillers. I genuinely wrote 10k words spread over the last 2 days, it's insane.
Warden, thank you so much for beta reading the first half of this chapter (the one I wrote when I was whoozy as fuck, so if there is any difference in writing styles, it's because of that.) Thank you so so much, this chapter wouldn't have been the same without your input <3
💿 TRIGGER WARNINGS: This is a HEAVY chapter folks. We're getting more into Satoru's eating disorder, and how his manager treats him.
There's certainly mental/emotional abuse and manipulation, and homophobia in Yaga's section, as well as implied physical abuse. If you want to avoid that, I'd avoid Yaga's section entirely. The Sukuna and Toji sections are safe from it.
'It get worse before it gets better' really does apply here. I don't feel like I can give specific warnings here since it's basically the whole chapter. So if you need a break, take it!
Satoru wakes up slowly. The feeling of fingers carding through his hair register first, the solid warmth of Sukuna's body resting next to him following almost immediately. The blankets covering them are warm, heavy, and they smell like the man laying next to him.
It's a rich, woody scent, still smelling faintly of fire - probably from yesterday's pyrotechnics - and a cologne that is uniquely Sukuna.
The last remnants of his dream slip from his waking mind like sand through fingers.
''Morning, sleeping beauty,'' Sukuna's voice, still rough with sleep and from yesterday's concert, revibrates through his chest.
It makes Satoru feel all fluttery and warm. It also makes him want to do some incredibly sappy stuff, like stay here forever, cocooned in the warm blanket and Sukuna's protective embrace.
''Morning,'' he mumbles, still sleep-drunk as he burrows further into Sukuna's chest.
Waking up with Sukuna is always so much nicer and slower than whenever he's alone. No blaring alarm clock, no immediate thoughts of his schedule, no responsibilities.
Just Sukuna, warmth and safety.
''Still sleepy?'' Sukuna asks, achingly fond. Satoru just grumbles something in response, making Sukuna chuckle.
''Mhmm…''
''I'll take that as a yes.'' Another warm chuckle. ''You're adorable like this, y'know? All sleepy and soft.''
''Shut up…'' Satoru mumbles, sleep still dragging at his consciousness.
''Alright, alright… Take your time, doll. We have all day.''
''Hmmm…'' Satoru sinks deeper into that warmth. ''I feel like I got run over by a truck…''
''You did enter your first moshpit yesterday.'' Sukuna's chuckle is warm yet rough, and Satoru feels a smile forming on his face despite himself.
Everything is nice and cozy, and time is syrupy like this.
''What time is it…?'' he asks eventually.
Sukuna is silent for a moment. Satoru feels him shift, probably to look at his phone.
''It's… 10:30.''
10:30.
That's way too late. Satoru usually wakes up around 5.
Sukuna has only a moment to react, before Satoru tenses and nearly vaults off the bed.
''Easy, easy,'' Sukuna rumbles, pressing Satoru back down with the idol's back against his chest. ''Toru, calm down-''
''No!'' Satoru shouts, struggling in Sukuna's hold. ''I gotta- Fuck, shit, I gotta go-!''
Holy fuck, he's so, so late. Yaga is going to kill him-
''Satoru.'' Sukuna's firm tone cuts through the panic like a gunshot. Satoru's mind screeches to a halt, and his muscles lock up on pure instinct.
''Take a deep breath," Sukuna continues, his rough voice softening. "In. And out."
Satoru tries to repeat the pattern. His first attempts are shaky, trembling.
''That's it.'' Sukuna praises him anyway. ''Good job, Toru. Follow my breaths, okay? In, and out. In, and out… There you go.''
Satoru sniffles, exhaling shakily. Sukuna's chest is warm and solid against his back. Feeling him breathe against him makes it easier to follow his breathing.
''But I'm- I'm so late-''
''You haven't eaten breakfast yet,'' Sukuna points out, calmly and too reasonable in Satoru's opinion. ''Besides, you're already late - what's another hour or so?''
Satoru opens his mouth to retort, to say it does make a difference, but Sukuna squeezes him before the first syllable leaves his throat.
''Shh, angel,'' Sukuna nuzzles the back of his neck. ''I'm not letting you leave until you've eaten breakfast. That's final.''
''But-''
''No buts,'' Sukuna cuts in. ''I'm not gonna let you starve. I bet you haven't eaten anything since dinner last night, am I right?''
Satoru huffs. ''… Maybe.''
''Thought so.'' Sukuna squeezes him again. ''Can't have you passing out on the way home.''
He feels more than hears Sukuna's hum, unconvinced. ''And I insist, Satoru. Breakfast, c'mon.''
Sukuna won't relent, and Satoru knows this.
''… Fine,'' the idol sighs.
''Atta boy,'' Sukuna responds, pressing a kiss against Satoru's neck. Satoru exhales shakily. He feels Sukuna's grin against him, then feels rough lips trailing a path up his skin, over his throat to the bottom of his jawline.
''K-Kuna…'' Satoru's breath hitches. Sukuna just hums, holding him closer, as if saying you're safe with gestures alone.
Satoru's muscles unwind and relax as those lips trail all over his face, from his jawline to his cheeks, pressing against his forehead, over his eyelids, to the tip of his nose, and then the corners of his mouth.
Finally, those lips press against his own, and Satoru melts in the face of the overwhelming affection Sukuna is showing him.
"Fine," Satoru murmurs again when they part. "I'll stay for breakfast."
"Good," Sukuna says, and the pride and happiness in his voice make the lecture Satoru will no doubt receive later worth it a thousand times over.
Twenty minutes later, Satoru steps out of the bedroom, fresh out of the shower. He takes the glass of water and migraine meds that Sukuna had already put out for him, then sits down at the table. He watches, more relaxed than he's felt in weeks, as Sukuna finishes the last of their breakfast.
"What're you making?" Satoru asks curiously. His mouth waters at the smell.
''Just some miso soup, rice, grilled fish and fried eggs.''
Just some. As if it was easy to make. As if anyone could just cook it, just like that.
But Satoru keeps those thoughts to himself and just hums. "It smells good."
"Of course it does," Sukuna smirks, glancing over his shoulder. "I'm making it."
Satoru snorts and rolls his eyes. ''Yeah, yeah… Eyes on the food, hot stuff. Not on the merchandise.''
''So bossy,'' Sukuna comments, but does as he's told anyway. More likely, he probably doesn't want his apartment to burn down, but Satoru can dream.
Speaking of dreams…
''Did you sleep well?'' Satoru asks.
Sukuna hums. ''I did. And you?''
''Mhm. I did,'' Satoru nods. ''Any dreams?''
''Surprisingly, yes,'' Sukuna responded. Satoru immediately sits up straighter, his full attention going to Sukuna. ''It was just the two of us, and my bike. The road was endless, with no one else around, as we drove into the sunset. Eventually, we parked on a hill, and stargazed. There was also a picnic involved, I think. I fed you strawberries.''
Satoru's cheeks feel warmer and warmer as he listens to Sukuna recount his dream.
''That… sounds nice,'' he manages eventually, staring hard at the table and trying not to melt into a sniffling puddle.
''It does,'' Sukuna responds. Satoru can hear the smile in his voice. ''Like a little piece of paradise.''
''Yeah…'' Satoru says softly. ''It does.''
A little piece of paradise. Satoru can hear the song title potential in it. He's not one to write love songs himself - usually a songwriter from his company writes the sweet, love-struck songs that girls fawn over - but maybe he can make an exception this time…
Before his mind can fixate on the idea and whip up any lyrics, a tray of food is put in front of him.
Three things stand out to him immediately.
It smells delicious. It's obviously made with love and care.
It's also a lot of food.
Like, a lot more than he'd usually have for breakfast.
''Sukuna,'' Satoru starts, voice hesitant.
''Hmm?'' Sukuna takes his own tray and puts it down across from him, before sitting down. Sukuna's plate and bowls hold even more food than Satoru's. But that's okay, that's normal for the rockstar, and-
Fingers snapping in front of his face take him out of his thoughts. ''Satoru, what's wrong?''
''It's just… It's a lot,'' Satoru says hesitantly. He glances between his plate and Sukuna's face. The amount of calories, fat, and protein in this…
''Like… I don't want to sound ungrateful,'' Satoru continues hesitantly. ''I really appreciate you cooking for us. But… I- I'm not sure I can finish all of this.''
Sukuna lets him speak, listening intently. Those sharp red eyes remain focussed on Satoru, familiar worry beginning to creep into the irises.
''You've had a long day yesterday,'' Sukuna speaks at last. His voice is a gentle murmur. ''A panic attack, a breakdown, and I'm willing to bet you haven't rested properly in ages, have you?''
Satoru shakes his head slowly.
''Exactly,'' Sukuna continues. ''You need the energy, Satoru. That's what the food is for.''
''Yeah, but…'' Satoru gnaws at his bottom lip. ''It's just… too much. I can't finish all of this-''
''Can't,'' Sukuna interrupts - not sharply, but accurately. ''Or won't?''
Satoru freezes.
''W-What?''
''I know what you're doing,'' Sukuna says, endlessly patient. It makes Satoru want to cry, just a little bit. ''Calculating calories. Fat. Protein. All that bullshit. But you don't gotta do that with me.''
Satoru frowns. ''But… I do. I can't just… pig out, Sukuna.''
''Satoru,'' Sukuna says, voice suddenly so serious Satoru flinches back from pure shock. ''If you call this 'pigging out'…'' His voice tapers off, and Satoru watches tensely as his jaw works. As if he's reigning in his reaction for Satoru's sake. ''It's a normal, one-person-sized breakfast.''
Satoru's gaze drops back down to his meal. ''… Really?''
''Yes.'' Sukuna's hand inches into his field of vision - steady and sure, but not crowding or controlling. Satoru lets him grasp his hand. ''Really. This is a healthy amount of food, sweetheart.''
Satoru looks at the meal, his head filled with doubt and hesitance. Is it really a meal for just one person? It's at least 1.5 times the size of Satoru's breakfasts, if not more…
''… It looks like dinner size,'' he mumbles eventually. Sukuna's hand squeezes his.
''I know it does, to you,'' Sukuna says. Trying to sound reassuring, but the edge of his voice trembles with worry.
Satoru hates that worry. Hates that he's making Sukuna feel this way.
He should be better.
Silence hangs over them for a moment, neither of them seeming ready to budge from their own point of view. Sukuna's thumb caresses the back of Satoru's hand.
After what feels like long, torturous minutes, Sukuna sighs again.
In the silence of the room, it feels like a gunshot. Satoru recoils on pure instinct.
Is it a bad sigh? Should he have given in? Has he done something wrong-?
''I hate how… jumpy you are, any time they have had you for prolonged periods of time,'' Sukuna huffs. It isn't difficult to guess who 'they' are.
Satoru hears the frustration in his words, can see the tense line of Sukuna's shoulders, and he feels awful. He squeezes Sukuna's hand.
''Sukuna-''
''I'm not mad at you,'' Sukuna continues lowly. ''Never at you, Satoru, don't ever think that. I'm angry for you. I… It hurts, when you leave my place happy and content, and return weeks later all tense and anxious.''
Satoru is quiet, listening with trembling hands as Sukuna finally voices his feelings.
Sukuna sighs. ''It hurts, but… I also know I'm one of the very few people you show that side to, so… I'm happy you feel safe here, too. But damn if it doesn't piss me off to know they'll tear you down again.''
Sukuna falls quiet again. Belatedly, Satoru realizes that was it, and he should respond.
But the words are hard to reach. There's no script for this, nothing to fall back on.
''I…'' Satoru opens his mouth, then closes it again. What can he even say…?
''I feel safe here. I really do.''
It doesn't feel like enough, not in the face of everything Sukuna has just shared. But it's all he can say. He's not ready to unpack the rest. Maybe one day he will - but present day Satoru is already on edge, too jittery, and too emotionally drained.
Sukuna looks at him, and his face softens. Probably realizing the same thing.
''And I'm happy about that,'' he says, voice gruff. ''Really damn happy, sweetheart. And I wish I could just keep you here.''
''That… would be nice,'' Satoru tentatively agrees. He squeezes Sukuna's hand again, for good measure.
''Yeah,'' Sukuna agrees softly. His gaze softens as he looks at their joined hands. ''It would be.''
There's a lull in the conversation. This time it's heavy, but not uncomfortable.
After a while, Sukuna speaks again.
''C'mon. Our food is getting cold.''
Just those five words cause Satoru to tense again. ''… I'm still not sure I can eat all of it…''
''Not with that attitude, you can't.''
Satoru's lips lift marginally at the quip.
Sukuna sighs, seeing this isn't going anywhere. ''Let me explain something, doll.''
And with those cryptid words, he stands up, opens a cupboard, and takes out two plastic measuring pitchers. He fills up one three quarters, the other full.
Satoru is too intrigued to argue or protest. What is Sukuna planning?
''Imagine,'' his boyfriend starts, gesturing to the partially filled pitcher. ''That this is your energy levels and reserves. The water represents food, drinks, and sleep - all the things you need to replenish it, yeah?''
Satoru nods. ''Okay…''
''Right. Now, during the day, it'll empty out,'' Sukuna continues, pouring most of the liquid out into the sink. When he puts it down, only a small amount of water is left at the bottom.
Satoru nods. That sounds reasonable.
''And then you eat and drink and sleep to fill up those reserves again,'' Sukuna pours water from the full pitcher into the almost-empty pitcher. ''And then the whole process starts over.''
Satoru nods along. ''Right… That makes sense.''
''That's right. I'm glad you're following along. Now, most people replenish until they're mostly full again - which means the amount of food, rest, and drinks they consume fluctuate.''
Satoru nods, a little more hesitantly this time. ''I… guess?''
''No, you don't, because I'm telling you,'' Sukuna corrects - not unkindly, but sure. ''If people laze around during the day, they won't be as hungry during dinner as they would be if they'd been at the gym the whole day. You fill up what you use, normally. Does that sound logical, Toru?''
Satoru processes the words. Needing more food and rest as more physical activity happens during the day does sound logical. So he nods. ''Yes, it does.''
''Smart boy,'' Sukuna praises, and Satoru preens. ''Now, here's what you are doing. You start here-'' the pitcher is nearly full. Sukuna pours some of the liquid out again, until it's filled with a fifth. ''-and go down to there. We'll take that as your baseline. And you burn a lot of energy during a day, sweetheart. But instead of just eating until you're full again, instead of resting when you're done, you have your diet and schedule. Meaning-'' Sukuna fills the pitcher again, but only partially. ''this happens.''
Satoru watches as Sukuna empties the pitcher again, a little bit, and then adds a little bit of water. Then he pours out more, and refills the same amount. The water line is less high than it used to be. Sukuna keeps going, pouring out more amounts - demanding days - then fills it up with the same amount every time.
Satoru watches, discomfort growing, as the water level keeps lowering even as Sukuna replenishes the water.
The same amount of energy is lost each day, yet the body is not properly replenished. Not with the strict diet Satoru is on.
''This is where it's at since yesterday,'' Sukuna says, pouring until only a sliver of liquid is left. ''And if you fill it up with the same amount as you usually do, you'll be here.'' Now, just above half of the pitcher is filled. ''But, if you eat a little more now, to compensate what you lost yesterday, you'll get a little more energy. You won't get fatter, you won't 'pig out' as you described it - you'll burn the calories anyway. The difference is that you might start to feel more energetic and well-rested.''
Satoru watches the water in the pitcher gently sway as Sukuna puts it down on the counter.
''That clear enough, darling?''
Fuck. It was.
Too clear.
Terrifyingly clear.
Satoru finds himself nodding mutely.
''It's-'' His breath hitches. His voice breaks. ''c-clear.''
What was he meant to do with this information? He wasn't even sure if he could eat more even if he wanted to. Besides, his management would never allow it-
''Shit,'' Sukuna hisses. Hurried footsteps, heavy and sure, walk closer.
But Satoru is still looking at the pitcher. That is, until Sukuna's face enters his field of vision and warm, calloused hands cup his face.
''Fuck, Satoru, I'm sorry. Was that- too much? Too quick?''
''N-No,'' Satoru pushes out. Even as he reaches up with trembling hands to hold Sukuna's wrists.
He's fine. He can manage. He's always done so. He's Gojo Satoru, for fuck's sake. Japan's greatest idol. He can deal with this.
''No?'' Sukuna repeats, a disbelieving hint to his voice. ''Toru…''
''I'm fine,'' Satoru cuts in. ''I can- I can deal with this. This is nothing.''
Sukuna's eyes bore into his. Calloused thumbs start to rub his cheeks gently.
''No, you're not fine,'' the rockstar says, ''but that's okay. I get that this is… a lot. I should've gone slower, should've checked in on you before dumping this all on you.''
Satoru's already shaking his head before Sukuna can even finish his sentence. ''No, you- you're fine, I mean, I needed the reality check, right?'' he laughs - too short, too tight.
''No,'' Sukuna responds firmly. ''You need a break, Satoru.''
The sureness in Sukuna's voice makes him pause.
''A- A break?''
''Yes. A break.'' Sukuna observes him for a few moments. ''Preferably away from it all. Just… us, on a holiday, in some other country. Away from prying eyes.'' He sighs softly, but it sounds relieved now, like he's glad he's gotten Satoru's undivided attention on him and not his spiralling thoughts.
''But… I know that isn't realistic. Realistically, what we can do now, is… small things. Like… not counting the calories for this breakfast. Eating just a little more than you usually do. You need the energy. Or you'll just… collapse, one of these days.''
Satoru looks at Sukuna. The steadiness of his gaze is reassuring as ever, even if he's infuriatingly collected about this.
It makes Satoru feel like even more of a mess.
But… Sukuna did say he could rely on him, right? That he didn't mind Satoru being a mess, and that he was happy to be his safe space…
''Just… eat what you can, pretty boy. That's all I ask of you right now.''
Damn it. Looking into those caring, red eyes, Satoru has no choice but to obey.
''… I'll try. I can't promise anything, but… I'll try.''
Sukuna gives him a soft smile. With a relieved sigh, Sukuna ruffles his soft, white hair. ''That's all I ask..''
Satoru's shoulders relax as Sukuna stands and presses a kiss to his head.
Their food is lukewarm when they return to it. Despite that, it feels more filling than any of the meals Satoru's chefs have prepared recently.
Sukuna doesn't watch him like a hawk, and for that he is grateful. Sukuna's gaze feels more grounded, born out of care rather than scrutiny.
Satoru tries a bite of everything - the miso soup, the rice, the salmon, and the eggs. It leaves him hungrier than expected.
''This is really good,'' he says after he's taken another bite of the salmon.
''I'm glad you like it, sweetheart,'' Sukuna responds, his shoulders finally loosening. ''Is it better than those fancy meals the chef makes you?''
Satoru scoffs. ''Oh, please, it isn't even a competition, babe. Your cooking wins every time.''
He watches, satisfied, as Sukuna's eyes shine with pride. ''It does, huh? Perhaps I should retire and become your private chef instead.''
''Don't you dare.'' Satoru jabs a finger at him. ''No way. Your music is way too awesome to retire, and your stage presence rivals mine. People would riot. I would riot.''
Sukuna chuckles. ''Glad to see my musical genius is being appreciated by someone, at last.''
''Now, let's not get too far ahead of ourselves,'' Satoru teases.
The banter - familiar and light-hearted - keeps him distracted while he eats. Before he knows it, he's already finished the miso soup, rice, and salmon. The eggs remain mostly untouched. Satoru glances down at his plate, then does a double take.
Damn… He ate so much more than usual…
There's unease that comes with that fact - anxiety that people would notice. Of course there is. But the panic he expected to feel with the realization is strangely absent.
''Hey,'' Sukuna calls to him. ''If you're full, you're full. You already ate quite a bit. You did a great job, Toru. I'm proud of you.''
Despite the leftover worries - and probably food stuck between his teeth - Satoru's smile is blinding as he beams at the praise.
Only when Satoru glances at the clock, does he realize how much time has passed.
It's 12:30 already.
Despite the dread creeping up - Yaga will be so mad, he's already so late - he finds that he… doesn't want to leave.
So he stalls.
''I can help with the dishes,'' he offers - despite both of them knowing he's horrible with chores.
But Sukuna takes one look at him and decides, for now, to take it at face value. By now, he knows when to push, and when to leave something be, and Satoru is thankful for that.
''Sure,'' he agrees. Easy as that.
They pile the dishes, and Sukuna fills the sink with hot water and soap - despite having a fully functional dishwasher. A fact that Satoru points out.
''Yeah, well,'' Sukuna responds. ''Figured it's not worth it to waste water and energy on such few dishes. So we might as well do it the old-fashioned way. Go grab a towel- No, the other towel. There you go.''
They clean the dishes in companionable silence. Sukuna washes, Satoru dries.
Sukuna lets him figure out his words at his own pace while keeping up some light conversation. Satoru loves him even more for it.
''We should play a game again, sometime,'' Sukuna comments lightly.
Satoru glances over from where he's carefully drying the plate. ''Which one do you have in mind?''
''Something easy.'' Sukuna's brows furrow as he scrubs at a stubborn piece of food that sticks to the plate. ''Not a shooter, this time.''
Oh, thank God. Satoru let out a sigh of relief.
He still remembered the last time he'd tried one of those - Mahito had shoved the controller into his hands, exclaiming he'd find it awesome.
Satoru did not find it awesome.
He was clumsy with the controls, the sounds made him feel on edge and jumpy, and he kept losing. Mahito had laughed until he cried, and even Suguru and Choso had chuckled in that stupid, endeared way while trying to give him advice that was ignored solely due to panic.
On the plus side, he had managed to not cry. He was breathing faster, sure, but his vision wasn't blurring or tunnelling. A win was a win, right?
After a few rounds, Satoru had handed the controller back to Mahito. ''I don't think this is the game for me…''
''Ehh, there's always different games.'' Mahito had simply shrugged, as if it was no big deal that Satoru had lost, failed, over and over again and had probably tanked his online ranking. ''We can try different ones. I think you'd kill rhythm games!''
Satoru had smiled tentatively. ''Maybe, yeah…''
The next time they'd come together, Mahito had loaded 'Hatsune Miku: Project DIVA'.
Choso had blinked. ''Since when do you play this?''
Mahito had rolled his eyes. ''Since like, forever. It's not my fault I have taste.''
''Debatable,'' Suguru and Sukuna muttered at the same time. Choso snorted.
''Anyway,'' Mahito said, rolling his eyes. He turned to Satoru and, as if he was explaining the secrets of the universe, proclaimed: ''This is a peak rhythm game. Go nuts, starboy.''
And, well. Unlike the shooter, these attempts were not terrible. Satoru was clearly still getting used to the controls, but he wasn't actually failing anything! The others yelled in encouragement, cheered when he cleared a level, and even tackled him into a sidehug that nearly caused him to drop the controller.
That was a good day.
He pulls himself out of the memory, and asked: ''So… What's the name of the game?''
''Minecraft,'' Sukuna answers. The name sounds vaguely familiar. ''Simple, cozy visuals, the controls are pretty easy, and we can play together in the same world, so you can take it easy and explore. There is a bit of a combat aspect to it, but it's not necessary. I can take care of that, if you want.''
Satoru nods. ''That sounds cool!''
''Nice to see you're so enthusiastic about this, babe,'' Sukuna smiles. ''I can boot it up soon, if you want to play today?''
At that, Satoru faltered. He glanced at the clock again. 12:56.
''I… I really should go back soon,'' he says softly. Sukuna sobers immediately.
''Right,'' the rockstar nods. ''Right…''
''I'm sorry,'' Satoru says. He means it. ''I wish I could stay longer, but Yaga-sama is probably already mad enough…''
A warm, slightly-damp hand gently holds his wrist.
''Will you be alright?'' Sukuna asks, searching his face.
Satoru nods. ''I will be. Truly.'' He smiles, trying to be reassuring. ''I just… need to figure out what to say.''
Sukuna hums. ''I'm sure that clever mind of yours has already figured out plan A, B, and C.''
Satoru huffs a laugh. ''How did you guess?''
Sukuna responds by playfully flicking water at him. ''Cuz I know you.''
''Yeah,'' Satoru finds himself agreeing with far more sincerity than he had expected. ''You do, huh?''
''Hmm,'' Sukuna looks pleased with the agreement. ''So, what're your options?''
Satoru inhales. Holds his breath for a moment. Exhales, and lets his shoulder drop.
''I can either be honest,'' he says. ''Say 'yes, it was me, I snuck out.' I can pretend I don't know you guys, and say it was just a coincidence. Or I can come fully clean and say that I do know you.''
None of those options sound very appealing. He's sure that, if he were to be honest, the company's grip on him would tighten even more.
He already sees them so little - sees Sukuna so little. He can't lose them.
''Or,'' he continues. ''I can lie. Say it was a döppelganger or a cosplayer, that I've been in my penthouse all along, and that I have no idea who you guys are.''
He finally looks at Sukuna. ''What do you think?''
Sukuna is silent for a moment, processing the options presented to him.
''You already know which one I prefer,'' the rockstar says after a beat. ''Lie to those bastards. Don't let them take even more of your freedom.''
Satoru slowly takes out the keys to his penthouse, careful not to let metal and plastic hit each other and alert Toji.
He's in yesterday's pants, minus the chains, and in one of Sukuna's faded NASA hoodies. The dark grey one with the stars, planets, and a spaceship on it. It still smells like the rockstar.
He carefully unlocks the door, twists the doorknob, and closes it gently behind him. The door barely makes a sound as it clicks shut, and Satoru sighs in relief.
''Gojo.''
He nearly jumps out of his skin as Yaga's voice cuts through the air like a bullet.
The idol turns around slowly, the blood draining from his face.
Yaga sits on the couch like he owns the place. (He does.)
Fuck.
There goes the 'I was in my penthouse the whole time' defense.
Satoru's eyes land on Toji, who stands against the wall, arms crossed and an unamused look on his face.
Double fuck.
"Yaga-sama," Satoru says, bowing. "To what do I owe the pleasure-?"
"Don't bullshit me," Yaga growls.
Satoru freezes, still locked in a stiff bow.
Well. Okay, then.
Before Satoru can get another word in, Yaga speaks again.
"What were you thinking?" Yaga stands slowly, fists clenched, a murderous expression on his face.
Satoru stands up, ramrod straight, as soon as Yaga takes a step towards him. The idol is already standing with his back to the door, and it's all he can do to not back up any further.
Shit, shit, shit-
"Going to a metal concert?" Yaga continues. "You're an idol, not some- some deviant punk!"
"I-"
"I wasn't finished."
Yaga is standing right in his face now. Despite the man being nearly a head shorter than him, Satoru still feels like a small, misbehaving child under his manager's cold, disapproving gaze.
''What in God's name were you thinking, Gojo?'' Yaga seethes again. ''You don't belong in that world. Did you even think of the consequences?! How this would reflect on your career? What your fans would think?''
The air gets caught in Satoru's throat.
The fans. The expectations. He knew them, knew the rules - he was never truly on a break.
Yaga is still glaring at him, but the way he tilts his face tells Satoru what he needs to know.
He's waiting for an answer.
''N-No, I- I wasn't there- I mean, I didn't- It was-''
Any and all carefully thought out plan of lying to his manager gets thrown out of the window in the face of Yaga's anger.
''Shut up.''
Satoru's mouth shuts with a soft 'click' as the low words leave Yaga's mouth. His back stiffens under that angry gaze.
''God, you're pathetic,'' his manager sneers. ''Japan's top idol can't even string together a coherent excuse.''
His breath catches. Not good enough. He's not good enough, he's disappointed Yaga, he's disappointed his fans-
''Yes, you weren't,'' Yaga agrees, a thin smile crossing his face at Satoru's compliance. ''Go on.''
''I- I had it all figured out,'' Satoru continues. His throat felt tight. ''I mean, I wore a disguise. No one recognized me. Not until my beanie slipped back. I didn't notice.''
''Really, now?'' Yaga's voice is calm. Too calm. The kind of calm Satoru has learned to read as furious.
He cautiously nods.
''You wore a disguise?''
''Yes, Yaga-sama.''
''I'm assuming you snuck out, then? Because Fushiguro didn't notice you leave.''
''I did, Yaga-sama.''
''Hm.'' Yaga is quiet for a moment. Then, he sighs and shakes his head. His hand raises. Satoru flinches away from it, but forces himself to still when Yaga's eyes turn stormy again.
The manager's cold hands cup Satoru's chin, rings digging into his skin. He turns his face this way and that - scanning for injuries, or a sign as to what happened after.
''Do you know how worried we were, Satoru?''
The breath Satoru didn't know he was holding left him in a rush, so sudden he felt almost dizzy.
Satoru.
Yaga rarely called him Satoru. So any time he did, it felt like praise. Like he was worth being called by his first name.
Like a dog getting a bone. He was getting excited over scraps.
He melted against the hand on his chin. Even if the touch felt clinical, Satoru didn't care.
''I'm sorry,'' he said again. ''I'm so sorry, Yaga-sama. I didn't think it'd end like this.''
''Of course you didn't.'' Yaga sighs like a disappointed parent. ''That's why you need us. You're good at singing and dancing, entertaining. Just leave the planning and all the other boring, difficult stuff to us.''
Satoru nods. Yeah, that's probably for the best.
''I mean, just look at what just happened,'' Yaga continues, almost cooing the words, dripping with excessive care and sympathy. ''You tried to be independent, tried to sneak out, tried to live a life you don't belong in and don't get to have… And look where that got you.''
Satoru frowned.
''Don't frown, you'll get wrinkles,'' Yaga chides, and Satoru smooths out his expression again with a muttered 'sorry.'
''We're just looking out for you,'' his manager continues, now fussing over his hair. ''You don't understand that… ordinary life.'' Yaga says 'ordinary' like it's something disgusting. ''And frankly, I don't understand why you even felt the need to sneak out. If you wanted to go somewhere, you could've asked Fushiguro to escort you.''
That was true. It was why he had a bodyguard, after all.
''I… I suppose that's true,'' Satoru responds. ''I guess I just… wanted to prove that I could. Go out on my own, I mean.''
Yaga hums. ''Oh, Satoru… A songbird like you is far too pretty to be let out on his own. What if something worse had happened? What if you had gotten kidnapped, for example?''
Satoru tenses. ''I- I hadn't thought of that…''
''Exactly.'' Yaga steps away, and Satoru tries to follow his touch, before he corrects himself. ''See? You need us. You don't need to worry your pretty little head about those things when we are here to take care of them.''
Yeah… Yaga is right. Sukuna, too. Satoru has no idea how the world really works. The company takes care of him, anyway, so he should be thankful that they're looking out for him.
''Okay, Yaga-sama. Thank you.''
''That's a good songbird.'' Yaga's smirk is pleased, and the praise makes Satoru feel pleased, too. ''Now, I've still got some questions I want to ask you, okay?''
''Okay, Yaga-sama.''
''Why that band in particular? You could've gone to another idol concert, or any other pop, indie, or even folk band. Instead, you chose-'' Yaga's nose wrinkles in disgust. ''-metal.''
Oh.
Yeah, Satoru should've seen this line of questioning coming.
And he couldn't tell the truth. Oh, yeah, I've known them for years, they're my friends, they invited me over. Yeah, right. As if that would go over well.
''It just… looked interesting,'' he said instead.
Yaga levelled him with a flat stare. ''Interesting,'' he repeated. ''Instead of going to the nearest venue, you went across half the city to see a random metal band?''
Satoru swallowed nervously as Yaga pinched the bridge of his nose.
''I will ask this once more. Why that band?''
''Because I like their music,'' Satoru admits quietly.
Hopefully, if he gives just enough truths, Yaga won't go searching for the lies.
''You… like their music,'' Yaga repeats flatly.
''I do, Yaga-sama.''
''You like metal.''
He sounds disbelieving now. If he wasn't shaking so badly he felt like his legs would give out any second now, Satoru would've laughed.
Satoru thinks for a moment. Why does he like it, beyond the fact that it's so different from what he's used to? He doesn't just like it just because they're friends, after all.
''Because it's… different,'' Satoru starts hesitantly. When Yaga's stoic expression doesn't shift into anger or disgust, Satoru goes on. His manager is actually listening to what he's saying? ''It's… rawer, I think is the only way I can explain it?''
Yaga remains silent for a while.
''You're lucky you're our biggest star, or else I would've demoted you.'' His manager's voice is cold when he speaks.
Satoru's heart plummets to the ground. What?
Demoted. Bumped back to trainee status. For this?
His breathing stutters, and he can feel his legs shaking even more. He has to lean against the wall to keep standing.
Demoted? No way. He hadn't expected it would be this big of a deal…
''Y-Yaga-sama-''
''Shut up,'' Yaga says sharply. ''Before you make this worse for yourself, Gojo. You're so damn lucky we still need to figure out how to spin this to the public. You've caused a meltdown. A media shitstorm.''
Yaga runs a hand over his face, looking tired.
Oh. Oh, no. He's done that. He's causing everyone more work, more stress, more sleepless nights.
There's an ugly feeling in his stomach that comes with that realization.
Quick, Satoru, think! Give a solution, an idea, a concept, anything!
''We- We can say it's a cosplayer or- or a döppelganger?'' Satoru suggests meekly.
Yaga pauses. Considers it for five seconds, then scoffs. ''No. That's too easy. Why would someone cosplay you to a metal concert?''
''… Right,'' Satoru responds, the ugly feeling in his stomach growing. Not good enough. ''Stupid idea.''
''Let us handle the PR stuff, Gojo,'' Yaga says dismissively, waving a hand. ''We'll fill you in on our plan later.''
''But- Can't we spin this?'' Satoru interjects, his heart hammering in his chest. Holy fuck, why is he talking? Why is he objecting? ''Say it's for an upcoming album, an experimental one.''
Satoru sees movement in the corner of his eyes, and his gaze snaps over to Toji. The bodyguard shifts, crossing his arms and tilting his head. He hums. ''Honestly,'' he says. ''That might not be a terrible excuse.''
Yaga glares at Toji. ''Whose side are you on, again?''
''Whichever one will let me keep this job, which requires Gojo-san to keep his,'' Toji answers bluntly. Satoru has to bite the inside of his cheek before his lips can quirk up. Leave it to Toji to be blunt as ever, even if Yaga is five seconds away from blowing a fuse.
Yaga rolls his eyes. ''Right. Well.'' He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. ''I can concede that this might not be a terrible idea. Still.'' He levels Satoru with a stare. ''Where was this brain yesterday, before you chose to sneak out?''
Satoru winces. He opens his mouth to respond, but Yaga cuts him off.
''Don't bother. I'll send a message to PR about this 'experimental album' angle. Also, where did you get that hoodie?''
Right. Sukuna's hoodie. That he's wearing. Right now.
''Uhm,'' Satoru says, very intelligently. Yaga narrows his eyes, suspicious.
''Gojo.''
''Someone gave it to me.'' It's the first excuse he can think of. And not entirely untrue, either.
''Who?''
Don't tell the truth, don't tell the truth-
''Just- Someone random, after the concert. They said I looked cold. The people there were really nice.''
Yaga stares at him.
''Right. Now tell me the truth.''
Satoru's muscles lock up. His heart skips.
''That is the truth.''
The disappointment radiating off of Yaga is palpable. He walks closer, slowly, like a predator closing in on his prey.
Satoru locks eyes with Toji. Please, he mentally pleads, have my back in this, too.
But he already knows Toji can't stop Yaga. Not without risking his own job.
He doesn't fault his bodyguard for it. Besides, Satoru would like for Toji to stick around, too.
''I'll ask this one last time,'' Yaga says, voice low. ''Do not make me do something I will regret later, Gojo. Who gave you that hoodie?''
For a beat, everything is silent.
Satoru struggles to think of a proper excuse, and he knows that with each passing second, his answer will be less and less believable.
Yaga reaches for his belt.
''Ryoumen Sukuna!'' Satoru blurts out all at once, practically vaulting off the wall to stand up straight again. His voice is high with panic. ''I got it- Ryoumen Sukuna gave it to me!''
Everyone freezes.
Toji's eyebrows lift in surprise.
Yaga's mouth falls open in shock.
All Satoru can think is fuck, fuck, fuck.
''Ryoumen Sukuna,'' Yaga repeats. His voice is flat, but his eyebrows raise higher and higher. ''Let me get this straight. Ryoumen Sukuna, frontman of Cursed Shrine, just gave you his hoodie?''
Satoru nods, face carefully blank. His posture is straight, tense. His heart feels like it's trying to beat out of his chest.
Yaga, for once, seems speechless.
''The rockstar?'' he exclaims. ''How- What- Why?''
''So people wouldn't recognize me from my outfit on the way back,'' Satoru answers truthfully.
The silence stretches. The clock in his living room ticks.
''No- There's no way that- that lowlife rockstar would care so much,'' Yaga mutters, starting to pace. Like he's trying to fit together a puzzle without a reference to rely on.
If the situation wasn't so tense, Satoru might've found some joy in finally being able to render his manager speechless.
''Wait,'' Toji buts in suddenly. ''You were gone for the entire night.''
Satoru feels the blood drain from his face. Inside, he curses at every decision Toji has ever made to be such a snitch.
''And you said he gave it to you for the way back.'' Toji's dark gaze bores into him. ''You must've stayed somewhere during the night.''
The implication is clear.
''Wait,'' Yaga says slowly, turning back to Satoru. His face is twisted in dread and disgust. ''Oh, no. Is this that gay shit again?''
''It isn't!'' Satoru responds defensively, wanting to curl up into a ball and die. He can feel his cheeks heating up. ‘’I just- I just stayed over at his place. He took the couch.''
''You went to his place!?'' Yaga pinches the bridge of his nose and inhales sharply. ''So instead of coming straight home after a scandal, you decide to spend the night with a rockstar you just met?!''
Well. Sukuna and him hadn't 'just met' the night before, but Satoru really, really wants to keep that from his manager.
''I mean…''
''Gojo…'' Yaga sounds both exasperated and tired. Toji looks at the ceiling as though it can give him answers.
''He was nice!''
''That is not the point! You should have come straight back. No, you shouldn't even have left to begin with!''
There's a tense, heavy silence.
''And you're sure this isn't… that?'' his manager asks with contempt, squinting at him as though Satoru's entire being might give something away.
'That.' 'The gay shit.' Satoru nearly scoffs - would it kill Yaga to admit to Satoru's sexuality.
It probably would.
It shouldn't make him feel so satisfied, and Satoru immediately feels bad for thinking about his manager in such manner.
''It isn't,'' Satoru reiterates. ''I promise, Yaga-sama, that has nothing to do with this. He just… He and his band comforted me when the news coverage started to come out, and he didn't want me to be alone for the night, but I also didn't want him to know where I live.'' Satoru took a deep breath. ''So we compromised, and I went back to his place. That's all there is to it.''
There's a few tense seconds of silence as Yaga processes that barrage of words.
''Fine. Whatever,'' Yaga says coolly.
Oh, no. It's very much not 'whatever'.
''What's done is done. But, Gojo?''
''… Yes, Yaga-sama?''
''If I ever see or hear you talk to that scum again, I will keep you in this penthouse until you're old and grey. Do you understand me?''
Satoru tenses. He… He doesn't want to be locked up forever.
But he also really, really wants to see Sukuna again…
He'll try to figure something out later. For now, he needs to get the company to back off. And the fastest way to do that, is to comply.
''Loud and clear, Yaga-sama…'' Satoru whispers.
''Good,'' Yaga says, a cold but satisfied smile on his face. It doesn't reach his eyes.
''Now, one last thing, then I'll leave you and Fushiguro alone.''
Satoru's gaze flickers from Yaga to Toji. Him and Fushiguro? What, does Yaga think he needs a babysitter?
… Probably. It wouldn't be the first time something like that has happened.
''We've already figured out the source of this… rot, so to speak,'' Yaga announces, voice cool, ''and we're almost done finalizing the legal action.''
''Who?'' Satoru already feels sorry for the poor sucker who has decided to bring down the ire of his company on them and their loved ones.
''@hairpin_baddie on Twitter,'' Yaga says, reading from the file on his tablet. ''Her real name is Kugisaki Nobara. Sixteen years old, still in high school.''
Satoru's heart sinks, then starts beating even faster.
Kugisaki? The girl he'd met yesterday evening? The one he'd bonded over Cursed Shrine's albums with? The very one who was screaming along with Satoru and Fushiguro?
''Wait, but-''
''Such a shame,'' Yaga sighs, cutting Satoru off. ''She could've had such a bright future. Oh well.''
''Wait,'' Satoru says again, his voice sounding strangled. ''You're going to take legal action against a sixteen year old girl?''
Yaga scoffs. ''She took pictures of you without consent and posted them online.''
''Yeah, but… she's a kid,'' Satoru protests. ''Shouldn't a warning be enough?''
''Not when she's friends with Ryoumen's nephew,'' Yaga responds coolly. He turns the tablet around, swiping trough some pictures of a trio of teenagers.
Holy shit. It is the duo he spent yesterday evening with. Kugisaki with her bob, and Fushiguro with his spiky, black hair. In the middle, beaming brightly, is Yuuji.
So it was true. Kugisaki had taken that picture. Kugisaki had posted it online. Kugisaki had exposed him to the world, when he was unguarded, with no filters, no perfect mask-
He feels strong hands carefully grab his shoulders, and then Toji is leading him over to the couch. Satoru sits on autopilot, staring into the distance.
''And… Fushiguro, isn't this your son?'' Yaga asks, cutting through the fog in Satoru's mind, and turning the tablet to the bodyguard.
Toji blinks at the screen, looking caught off-guard at being roped into this.
''Uh… Yeah, that's my brat,'' he mutters gruffly, carefully.
What the fuck, Satoru thinks. He feels faint all of a sudden.
So the Fushiguro kid was related to Toji, after all. Fuck. What if the kid had ran his mouth?
''So, if I ask you if you know Ryoumen Sukuna, you'll answer truthfully, right?''
Toji shrugs. ''I've seen him around, when he needs to pick up his nephew. Don't see him that often. Only traded 'hi's and 'goodbye's with him.''
Yaga hums. For a moment, he looks almost disappointed he can't dig up more dirt on Sukuna.
''Alright. Well, your son was also at the concert yesterday.''
''Yeah, he was. Wouldn't stop talking my ear off about it this past week. I haven't seen him this excited in a while.'' Toji sounds fond when he says it.
Fuck, had Fushiguro spilled? Did that mean Toji already knew where he was and with who, before Satoru had come home? What if Yuuji had told Kugisaki and Fushiguro about Sukuna and him? What if Fushiguro had told to Toji? And had he spilled to Yaga? But his manager didn't seem to know anything. Had Toji kept his mouth shut? Who knows what?
''Well, is there any way we can speak to him?''
Satoru blinks. Why would Yaga want to talk to Toji's son?
''Why?''
''So we can figure out how much he had to do with this.'' Yaga rolls his eyes. ''Keep up with the program, Fushiguro.''
''Well… Nah, I don't think you can,'' Toji responds. ''Why would you even want to question some teens like it's a police investigation?''
''Yeah…'' Satoru chimes in, hunching slightly when Yaga's gaze turns to him. ''It's… kind of weird, Yaga-sama.''
''Kugisaki is still young,'' Toji continues. ''Just give her a slap on the wrist and be done with it. It doesn't need to be a huge thing. She just made a mistake.''
''And I'm sure if we ask, she'll take the pictures down,'' Satoru adds quickly.
Yaga glances between them like they've gone mad.
''She's damaged your reputation with those pictures,'' Yaga says at last. ''And you don't want… I don't know, compensation?''
''No?'' Satoru responds. He tilts his head, and his eyebrows scrunch together. At the disapproving click of Yaga's tongue, he smooths out his expression again. ''I mean, I'm already rich, so I don't need the money. And, honestly? Let people know I enjoyed the concert. It'll help us with the whole 'branching out' angle.''
Yaga's mouth thins into a line that Satoru knows to read as displeased.
''Fine,'' he sighs. ''You two clearly don't want to help. Your losses.''
''Gee, I'm so sorry for not throwing my kid and his friends under the bus,'' Toji says dryly. ''Have you ever even raised a kid before? They make mistakes. Shit happens.''
Yaga bristles. ''Watch your mouth, Fushiguro. I think I raised Gojo just fine.''
Toji manages to guise a derisive snort as a cough. ''Right. Understood, sir.''
Yaga sighs. ''Finally we're getting somewhere.''
He moves to stand in front of Satoru, who now has to look up to meet his manager's gaze.
''Now, Gojo.'' Yaga's voice is stern. ''You don't think I'll just let this all slide, do you?''
Ah. There it is.
''No, Yaga-sama,'' Satoru answers dutifully.
''Good. Here's what will happen. You have the rest of the day off so you can't cause any more… issues. We will have a plan ready by this evening, and we'll debrief you as soon as possible.''
Yaga glances at Toji. ''Fushiguro will stay here for the rest of the week to keep an eye on you. He'll escort you to all of your scheduled appearances, photoshoots, studio sessions, and whatever else for the next month at least. If you want to leave, he is to be with you at all times. Is that clear?''
''Crystal clear, Yaga-sama.''
''Good. And no more sneaking out, Gojo. Like I said, if I ever see or hear about you interacting with that rockstar…''
Satoru swallows thickly, his Adam's apple bobbing.
He couldn't let Yaga know about their relationship. He couldn't, wouldn't risk it.
''I understand, Yaga-sama.''
''Good,'' Yaga says, sounding satisfied. He ruffles Satoru's hair. ''Now, behave. I want you up bright and early for your shoot tomorrow, you got that?''
''Yes, Yaga-sama,'' Satoru nods. ''I got it.''
''Right. I'll be off then. Fushiguro. Gojo.''
With a nod to both of them, Yaga walks out, the door slamming shut behind him.
Toji and Satoru stay in tense silence for a minute longer after Yaga leaves.
Then, Toji lets out his breath and falls back onto the couch.
''Sheesh, kid, I thought you were done for,'' Toji comments lightly.
Satoru chuckles, still shaking from leftover nerves. ''Yeah, you tell me.''
''You gotta work on your improvisation skills, though,'' Toji continues without looking at him. Satoru appreciates both the talking and the fact that, for once, he isn't being observed.
''I panicked!'' Satoru objects. ''You can't blame me for that! I had several plans, and Yaga-sama disarmed almost every single one!''
''Yeah? Which one didn't get shot to hell and back?'' Toji asks, finally craning his neck to look at him.
''The one-'' Satoru pauses.
No, Satoru, can it before you spill your own secret!
''Actually, that one was stupid to begin with,'' he finishes.
Toji raises an eyebrow. ''Try me, kid.''
''Getting on my knees and begging for forgiveness.'' Satoru says the first thing that comes to mind - pathetic enough that it is, indeed, stupid, yet believable enough for Toji to imagine it to fit.
As expected, Toji snorts. ''Alright, yeah, that is pretty stupid.''
Damn. Why couldn't he have lied so smoothly a few minutes ago?
''So,'' Satoru asks after a few moments. ''You have a son?''
''Megumi,'' Toji grins fondly. ''He's a prickly one, but he's a good kid. Didn't see him often in his youth due to my own issues, but I snapped back to my senses and have been trying to be there for him ever since.''
Satoru nods along. There's a small smile on his face, but it quickly sobered. ''… And now you're stuck babysitting me for a month. At least.''
Toji waves a hand. ''Eh, it's whatever. It pays well, and you're not terrible to stay with.''
''Wow, ringing endorsement, Toji,'' Satoru huffs, shaking his head. He moves, drawing his knees up to his chest and leaning his cheek on top of them. ''Still. I'm sorry for roping you into this mess.''
''That's kind of my job,'' Toji responds dryly. ''Said so in the job description. 'Great pay, get roped into Gojo Satoru's messes for free.'''
That gets a laugh out of Satoru. Toji grins.
''But, hey… Thanks for sticking up for 'Gumi and his friends,'' Toji continues. ''I really appreciate that. I'm proud of you, kid.''
''Yeah, of course,'' Satoru mutters, ducking his head at the heartfelt thanks and praise. ''Yaga-sama can be… intense. No one deserves that - especially kids.''
Toji snorts derisively. ''Understatement of the century.''
He stretches with a groan. ''Ugh, I need a drink. You want anything?''
''Water is fine,'' Satoru responds, watching as Toji stands up.
''You got it.''
Toji stands up and ruffles his hair as he walks past.
''Oh, and text that boyfriend of yours that you survived Yaga's psychological warfare!'' he calls back playfully.
Satoru's hand is already halfway to the phone in his pocket before it truly registers.
His heart skips several beats, and his breath catches.
''B-Boyfriend?'' he calls, but his voice shakes. ''I don't- I don't have a boyfriend.''
The lie sounds weak even to his own ears.
The sound of the fridge door opening fills the otherwise quiet penthouse. There's some clinking as Toji grabs their drinks.
''Bullshit!'' the other man calls out. ''Do you think I'm blind?''
The fridge door shuts, and then Toji walks back into the living room. He hands Satoru his water, and the idol only accepts out of sheer instinct.
''Yaga may not notice 'cuz he's not around often,'' Toji scoffs. ''But, kid, you've been happier these past few years than I've ever seen you. More relaxed. You're even sneaking out like some rebellious teenager.''
''You- You noticed…?''
''Of course I did.'' Toji scoffs. ''I'm your bodyguard for a reason, Satoru. I notice shit. Besides, those chains rattle loud enough to wake the dead.''
He looks… fond. As if he doesn't mind Satoru having a boyfriend and sneaking out to see him and his band.
''You're living,'' Toji continues. ''Not just surviving. Frankly, it's about damn time - let that homophobic bastard eat shit and die.''
''T-Toji!'' Satoru exclaims, a nervous chuckle leaving his lips.
''What? It's true. Besides, Megumi plays Cursed Shrine on repeat. I'd recognize those beats anywhere, even hummed underneath an idol's breath. Pretty sure I'd recognize them deaf and blind through pure vibration alone.''
Satoru chuckles again - still nervous, but looser now.
''I, uhm… You really don't… mind?''
Toji snorts. ''Nah. In fact, I encourage it. Go for it, kid. If he makes you happy, who am I to stop you?''
''Yeah, but it's not…'' Satoru objects hesitantly. ''… uhm, n-normal. Besides, I'm an idol. I'm not meant to date…''
''Fuck those dating rules, it's inhumane,'' Toji rolls his eyes. ''And… 'Not normal'? What isn't 'normal'? Being in love?''
Satoru shakes his head. ''No! No, that's not it. It's just that… Well…''
Oh, God, is he really doing this? Coming out to Toji after a very difficult and long two days? What if he doesn't take it well? But he's so tired of pretending, skirting around it…
And… Toji already knows he has a boyfriend, and is supportive of it.
Toji remains silent as Satoru gathers his courage.
''I'm- I'm gay, Toji,'' Satoru whispers, looking at the couch cushions like they're the most interesting things in the world. Despite having lived in this penthouse for nearly ten years now, ever since he was eighteen, they don't even look worn down.
''I know.''
The simplicity of that statement, the casual acceptance in it - as if Satoru was just stating the weather - knocks the breath out of the idol.
He looks up slowly. Toji is looking at him, his face resting in feigned boredom, but his eyes are proud.
''You- You do?''
''Yep,'' Toji says, popping the 'p'.
''Since when…?''
''Just a little while after I got hired,'' Toji answers.
Satoru's eyes nearly bug out of his skull. ''That's-! You knew for thirteen years?!''
''Damn, time flies,'' Toji chuckles. ''But, yeah, pretty much.''
No. That can't be real. Toji must be lying, surely.
Satoru opens and closes his mouth a few times.
''Lemme tell you, kid, the closet was glass before Yaga got really serious about hiding it. If I didn't know for a fact how homophobic the industry is, I would've figured it was an open secret, y'know?''
Satoru's face burns in embarrassment, and this time he does curl into a ball and hides his face into his knees.
''You knew. And you didn't tell me.''
''Well, I wasn't sure if you knew, yourself.''
''That's mean.''
''You didn't refute it,'' Toji hums. ''So, when did you figure it out?''
''… Five years ago,'' Satoru mutters.
''After you met him, I assume?''
Satoru makes a noise not unlike a dying seagull - utterly graceless and full of mortification.
''Thought so.''
Toji sounds so smug that Satoru just has to reach out and swat at him. Still hiding his face.
''Satoru. Can you look at me?'' Toji's voice is softer, but still with an amused edge to it as he makes his request.
Satoru hesitantly peeks at Toji from his knees. ''What…?''
''For what it's worth, kid,'' Toji says, voice softer and more reassuring than Satoru has ever heard it. ''Being gay is normal. Don't let this fuckass industry tear your identity down, 'kay?''
Satoru makes some half-aborted, choked noise, and promptly hides his face again.
The couch dips besides him as Toji moves, pulling Satoru into his side and running a comforting hand over his shoulder and upper arm.
The only sounds for a while are Toji's steady breathing, Satoru's quiet hiccups as all the stress and fear leave his body, and the clock ticking away as the minutes pass.
Satoru always appreciates these things about Toji. How steady he is, how consistent. He is always where he says he'll be, or where Satoru needs him to be even if he doesn't know - or want - to ask for it.
Thirteen years of forced proximity probably helped with that, but before that, Satoru had sent several bodyguards running within a year. And then Toji had burst into his life, all rough edges and mean snark that hid a heart of gold.
Kinda like another man he knows and loves very deeply.
Satoru likes how the bodyguard just seems to know when to crack a dry-ass joke, when to give him space, when to call a meet-and-greet quits even if the timeslot isn't over yet. But he also knows when to push until Satoru gives, when to touch him and when not to.
He's a godsent.
''You know…'' Satoru croaks after he's calmed down somewhat. He accepts the glass of water Toji hands him, taking a small sip. ''You- You can take Megumi to work with you sometime. If you want.''
Toji hums. ''I'll consider it.''
Satoru smirks, a small thing. He knows what that means. 'I'm already planning it but I refuse to immediately agree.' Which is practically a yes.
''Alright. Please do tell me when he's coming over and if he's bringing Yuuji and Kugisaki or other friends. I'd hate to scare them with my pre-makeup face.''
''A normal face?'' Toji asks dryly. ''Oh, no, the horror. But sure, I'll let you know.''
''You sound like Sukuna,'' Satoru grumbles, taking another sip of his water.
''You still need to text him,'' Toji reminds him.
''I know,'' Satoru sighs. He's reluctant to take out his burner, though. Toji will immediately recognize it's a different phone.
''Well? Don't be shy, I won't read your disgustingly sappy texts, or whatever you two say to each other.''
True to his word, Toji angles his face away.
… Huh.
''You don't… need to do that,'' Satoru says, a little awkwardly.
''Well, think of it this way. If Yaga ever asks if I've seen or heard anything suspicious, I can say no with a clean conscience. I can't see your texts, and you aren't calling or sending a voice message, so I don't know about anything.''
''That's…'' Smart. And ridiculous. Satoru quickly decides it isn't worth the energy.
He fishes out his phone, and opens the chat with Sukuna.
(17:03) Me: I'm back at my house.
(17:03) Me: Got chewed out by Yaga-sama, but miraculously survived.
Sukuna's text bubble appears almost immediately.
(17:04) Kuna <3: I can tell. You always type more formal after that bastard corners you
Oh. Did he?
Satoru is about to type an apology when Sukuna's text comes in.
(17:04) Kuna <3: Don't overthink that, pretty boy. How're you doing?
Satoru chews his lip as he thinks of how to answer that. His thumbs hover over the keyboard.
(17:06) Me: Could be better. Yaga-sama was furious. We settled on a PR solution, though. They're working on a statement now.
(17:06) Kuna <3: That's good. What's the solution?
(17:06) Me: That I'm trying to broaden my horizons, and the next album will be more experimental, with more genres.
(17:07) Kuna <3: That's… honestly not a bad idea. I like it.
Satoru feels a small smile appear on his face at that.
(17:07) Me: You do?
(17:08) Kuna <3: Yeah, I do. I'm curious to see what you'll produce when you aren't limited to the pop genre.
(17:08) Kuna <3: But that wasn't my question, Toru.
(17:09) Me: Oh. Sorry, Kuna.
Satoru thought for a moment. How was he doing? That's a difficult question. And he still has to tell Sukuna about the other decisions Yaga made…
(17:11) Me: He's put me under house arrest, basically. Toji stays with me for the next week at least, and he's escorting me everywhere for at least a month. I'm not allowed to see you anymore…
This time, Sukuna's answer takes longer. His text bubbles appear and reappear, again and again.
(17:14) Kuna <3: That bastard.
Satoru blinks at the short answer. So many minutes of waiting, for that?
(17:15) Me: Are you mad?
(17:15) Kuna <3: Livid, sweetheart.
(17:15) Kuna <3: But this isn't about me.
(17:16) Kuna <3: How does that make you feel?
Satoru knows what Sukuna is playing at, and so he types the first answer that comes to mind.
(17:16) Me: Sad :(
(17:17) Kuna <3: There we go. Anything else?
(17:18) Me: Angry, I guess? Disappointed. I really wanna keep seeing you and the others, but I don't want Yaga-sama to find out… :/
(17:19) Kuna <3: That's a valid fear. But we'll figure something out.
(17:19) Kuna <3: ❤️🔥
Satoru smiles at the simple but heartfelt reassurance.
(17:19) Me: <3333333
(17:20) Me: Oh also, Toji apparently knows about us?? Like, he's known for a while. I also came out to him lowkey, which was actually pretty scary but he took it really well???
(17:21) Me: So yay i guess \(^-^)/
(17:21) Kuna <3: Damn, really?
(17:21) Kuna <3: He better not snitch to your manager.
(17:22) Me: he won't!
(17:22) Me: he's even looking away now, pretending not to know I'm typing to you, just so he can say he didn't 'see' anything later if Yaga-sama asks
(17:23) Kuna <3: Really? That's hilarious.
(17:23) Kuna <3: He seems to have your back, huh?
(17:23) Me: he does
(17:23) Me: he's been around since forever, and he's kept his mouth shut all this time. i trust him with this
(17:24) Kuna <3: You trust him, huh? That's good. I'm glad you've got someone on your side there.
Satoru doesn't know what to say, so he just sends a heart emoji.
(17:25) Kuna <3: Now get some rest, Toru. You've had some long days.
(17:25) Kuna <3: We'll figure this out. Together.
(17:25) Me: okay. together. i love you <3
(17:26) Kuna <3: I love you too.
(17:26) Kuna <3: Now rest.
(17:26) Me: o7 sir yes sir
Satoru closes the phone, feeling it vibrate again. He checks it to see a notification.
Sukuna has sent a text in the 'Cursed Shrine + devotee ⛩️🔥👹👹👹👹👹' group chat - courtesy of Mahito - telling them that Satoru is at home, safe, and resting.
He smiles as he puts the phone back down. He'll read through their relieved messages later.
An undetermined amount of time later, Satoru is shaken awake gently.
''Kid.''
Satoru mumbles something, burrowing more against the warm pillow he's resting against.
''Kid, my arm has fallen asleep- Ow, fuck-''
''Hggn?'' Satoru groans.
''C'mon, Satoru, my arm needs a break.''
''Wha…? Oh, sorry, Toji,'' Satoru apologizes sleepily. He sits upright again, letting Toji rub at and shake out his arm with a grimace.
''It's okay. I'll live.''
After a few minutes, when Toji's arm is functional again, he hands him his phone. ''Also, Cursed Shrine tagged you in something.''
Satoru has never woken up faster. He perks up and quickly unlocks his phone, opening his socials immediately.
Cursed Shrine ⛩️🔥
@Cursed_Shrine_Official
Pleased to see you enjoyed our show, @GOJO_Official. If you ever wanna come down to the studio to create something truly wicked, be our Honoured guest! 👀🔥🔥
❤️20,9k 🗨️9,7k 🔁11,4k
Oh. Oh, they didn't.
Satoru feels a huge grin spread across his face.
A collab with Cursed Shrine, huh?
Without waiting to consult his PR team, notifying Yaga, or spiralling if this would count as talking to Sukuna again, Satoru takes the opportunity - more time to see Sukuna, more time to see the band - and retweets.
GO/JO | Stream 'Honoured One' 💎🥇
@Gojo_Official
It was an impressive show for sure! And a collab with the Kings of Metal? That's sure to Resonate with everyone!! 👀🌟
❤️1mln 🗨️56,8k 🔁652,3k
THE PLOT IS THICKENING!!! A COLLAB IS BREWING!!!! I have a loose plot ready, but I'm open to song suggestions, so drop them!👀
Also someone take Satoru's social media accounts away from him. He's still in the scandal and he's creating more PR problems for his team... Someone give them a raise
Let me know what you think of this chapter!! Any favourite scenes? Dialogue? Feel free to yell at me in the comments!
