Wicked Games: Twelve
“What if I’m wrong? What if I lied?
What if I’ve dragged you here to my own dark night?
And what if I know? What if I see? There is a crack run right down the front of me
What if they’re right? What if we’re wrong?
What if I’ve lured you here with a siren song?
But if I be wrong, if I be right
Let me here with you tonight”
- If I Be Wrong by Wolf Larsen
Satoru eyes the unfamiliar box in his hand as he moves back around the desk, stopping in front of you. You’re frozen in place, eyes wide as your body tries to catch up how quickly your mind is reacting to the scenario in front of you.
Satoru never knew about the ring, about the proposal. It was something Suguru had kept private - for you and him only until he got a decision. He wasn’t really the one to make a big deal of things, make an extravagant show of proposing like his friend who would’ve rented out an entire building.
“Something you want to tell me?” He jokes as he cracks the box open and he notices the simple yet elegant ring inside. It was your style. His eyes flash up to you when you don’t say anything. You're staring at him, then at the box, then back at him. And then suddenly it clicks.
“Suguru,” he notes, face falling as the box snaps shut. It’s like that noise wakes you and you reach out, snatching both the box and tissues from his hands.
You suddenly feel more exposed and vulnerable than you were previously - when Satoru was buried between your legs.
“I should clean up,” you say softly, not meeting his gaze.
“I’ll wait outside,” is all Satoru says before he leaves you and your eyes flicker up to watch his retreating back.
You quickly clean yourself off and fix your dress, lip beginning to ache where you had broken the skin. The box sits on your desk as you move your jacket back on, trying to cover most of the hickeys beginning to form on your skin, and you can’t help but feel overwhelmed by everything. And it sucks, because now you can’t turn to your best friend since he’s in the middle of it and you can’t talk to Shoko because it’s not like she knows you’ve slept with Satoru - twice now - that Suguru proposed all those years ago and that you kissed him recently. You quickly move towards your desk, shoving the little black box back into your drawer and letting out a shaky breath. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
It takes you a good five minutes before you can will yourself out the door, finding Satoru leaning against the hallway opposite of you, head down as he looks focused on his phone.
“Do you want to go home?” he asks as you watch him, your hands clasped in front of you as you nervously play with your fingers.
“Yes.”
Your voice comes out softer than you’d like, a waiver to it that you notice makes him flinch - as if he’s the reason why you're acting like this. You want to reassure him it’s not him, it’s you, but he’s avoiding your gaze.
He wordlessly approaches you and holds out his hand for you to take. You do and in the one minute you were at school, you’ve returned to his expansive apartment. His hand falls from yours’ quickly and before you can say anything else he retreats to his bedroom.
***
He was a fucking idiot. He knew he shouldn’t have given in, shouldn’t have followed you to your office. One night should’ve stayed as one night, not whatever the Hell was happening now. But he had to be himself - pull at your strings to see if one night was meant to be something more.
He knew you still loved Suguru, as much as it pained you to admit it. You hadn’t seriously seen anyone since you and him had broken up and now Satoru understood why - marriage apparently had been on the table.
He’s pacing around the room, trying to control his emotions and cursed energy. He feels frustrated for how he reacted at the ring, for leaving you there how he did. He wasn’t the type of guy to just walk away after screwing someone and he certainly didn’t like the fact he had done it to you. He had told himself he was going to keep it casual - and that was certainly not casual.
He moved into his bathroom, leaning against the counter as he ran the water and head hung low. He tosses his glasses onto the counter, splashing his face as he tries to calm down.
It was always going to be Suguru. Even when he was no longer in the picture, even when you refused to join his side, your heart belonged to him.
Satoru can’t help it as a small wave of energy releases into the air and glass shatters on his mirror. You’re knocking on his bedroom door a minute later, concern in your voice.
“Satoru?” you ask.
“I’m fine,” is all he can say, a lie. Honestly, he’s not sure he can stay in the apartment right now. He feels guilty towards how he treated you and anger over the situtation. He’s afraid he’s just going to say or do the wrong thing again so he moves into his bedroom and quickly changes into something casual.
When he opens his bedroom door he finds you standing in front of it, still disheveled looking from before, eyes glassy and lip bruising.
“I’m going out,” he replies, brushing past you.
“‘Toru,” you trail behind him. You're not sure what to say or do, but you hate whatever this is and you want to mend it.
Satoru hates how his heart races from the nickname you’d given him so long ago, but then remembers: casual, just like any other girl.
“It was just sex, Y/n, relax,” he says, whirling on you with a fake smirk pulling at his lips. Pure nonchalance. “Only one time - remember?”
“The ring-”
“None of my business,” Satoru quickly interrupts, mostly because he’s afraid another wave of energy is going to come rolling off of him at the mere mention of it. “I’ll see you later.”
You go to the object but he snaps his fingers, disappearing before you can utter a single word.
You stare dumbfounded at where he once was before you look around the empty space, suddenly feeling like you did when he was gone for those months. Alone, tired, and scared. You move towards your bedroom, locking the door behind you.
***
You lay awake in your bed, hair thrown up in a bun with an oversized hoodie and sweats. Your sheets are buried around you as you stare out the window and into the night sky before you. It had started raining hours ago, a light drizzle that had begun to fade into the storm raging outside. A crack of thunder snaps and lightning fills the sky and you recall Suguru’s visit, your dream.
You hear stumbling footsteps coming from down the hall and a flash of panic hits you. You reach for the blade on your nightstand before softly moving towards your bedroom door, cracking it open as you slip outside. The power has gone out and you see another flash of lightning as you creep further into the living room. You see movement from the corner of your eye and whirl around, rushing whoever it is. They block your attacks, quickly tackling you to the ground. The lights flicker in the room as they come back on and your eyes adjust as you see -
“Jesus Christ Y/n,” Satoru huffs on top of you, hands pining your wrists down on each side.
Your breathing heavy below him. “I thought - I just” Your mind flashes to Suguru, to the curse-user. Satoru watches you, the evident anguish in your features. You eye him too - noticing a splash of red on the collar of his shirt, a cut to his usually perfect skin on his chin. The gin on his breath.
He pushes himself off you, sitting across from you on the floor.
“Where did you go?”
“Bar,” he hums out, standing slowly. He reaches a hand out to you, helping you up.
“You’re hurt,” you note, hand reaching out to him and hesitantly tracing his chin.
Satoru didn’t lose fights.
“Drank too much, made some friends,” he smirked. “They look worse than me.” He’s drunk.
“I believe you,” you sigh, noticing the dried blood on his knuckles.
“I can take care of this,” he gestures to his face, eyes glazed over as he turns to stumble away.
You let out an exhausted sigh, hoping that when Satoru would return he’d have a clear head to talk. You quickly realize that isn’t going to happen and gingerly grab his fingers, pulling him back to you as you guide him to his bedroom.
“Come on Wonder boy,” you murmur and you hear a pleasant hum emit behind you. He’s at least drunk enough to not be thinking about earlier or he’s ignoring it.
“Round two?” He teases behind you, steps tripping closer to you as you feel his chest press to your back. His arm wrapping around your waist, fingers playing with the waistband of your sweats.
You place your free hand over his own, trying to focus on guiding him without either of you falling. Although Satoru hated to drink it wasn’t your first time seeing him or handling him drunk. The man could be all hands as soon as alcohol hit his system - his arrogance increasing and his attitude dictating his actions. Angry? He’d get into a fist fight. Sad? He’d get clingy. Horny? Well then he’s thinking with his dick.
You shuffle him towards his bed and he lets you guide him onto the edge. He catches your wrist, trying to pull you towards him as his other hand lays low on your hip. He’s saying things that have you blushing and trying to avoid his gaze, to keep a level-head. You manage to wiggle out of his hold, moving towards his bathroom.
“Stay there.”
He mumbles something unintelligently in response, words you can barely make out, as you flick the light on in his bathroom and are abruptly met with the broken glass scattered on the sink and floor. A groan comes from the bedroom, shaking you from your thoughts as you refocus on the task at hand. You grab a hand towel and rinse it under water before returning back to Satoru and nestling between his spread legs. You reach for one of his hands, beginning to clean one off before turning your attention to the other.
“Your mirror’s broken,” you note quietly as Satoru watches you work.
“Hmm… what?” He has a dopey look on his face till the words register in his head. “Oh, that? Accident,” he replies, eyes avoiding you. He winces slightly as your fingers brush over a bruise forming on his skin.
You hum in response, not believing him. “Chin,” you instruct, grabbing it and tilting it up to look at you. With both of his hands now free they move to cradle the back of your thighs, flexing every now and again that has you feeling suddenly self-conscious, face flushing.
You're focusing intently on cleaning the blood on his face and the small amount on his neck, missing the way Satoru is looking at you intently.
“Are you okay?” he asks suddenly.
The question surprises you, deja vu hitting you as you reflect back to your earlier discussion with him. I’m managing.
You meet his gaze, chewing your lip as the word no toys at your lips. His eyebrows furrow and you shake your head, avoiding the question. “All done.”
You pull your wrist away, stepping away from him to throw the towel in his hamper. When you return to him you notice him clumsily removing his clothes. You move towards him, helping him change out of his shirt and pulling off his shoes. He shucks his pants off, clad in only his boxer-briefs as he stumbles towards his bed and under the covers.
A loud rumble of thunder emits throughout the room, lights flickering again in the space and Satoru notices you tense from the noise.
“Sleep with me,” he mumbles.
“I’ll be fine,” you lie, knowing you’ll likely be restless in your bed.
“Y/n,” he argues, flipping the covers down for you to crawl into the empty space.
You hesitate before moving towards his bed and tucking yourself in, thinking of the last time you slept in this bed - the roles reversed and the circumstances different.
You stare up at the ceiling, thoughts drifting to the man beside you. You had slept with him twice. Kissed him several times now. You had been jealous of his date and he was jealous of Nanami. On top of all of that, you had years of friendship and history between the two of you. Satoru was many things, but he was also your best friend. You had to stop lying to yourself and admit there was something more between you.
“Satoru -” you glance over to him, noticing him fast asleep beside you. He’s breathing deeply, mouth slightly ajar and arms curled under the pillow.
Your mouth shuts at the sight and you roll onto your side to face him, hands tucking under the pillow as your eyes slowly fall shut.
***
“You like it?”
You’re curled up against the strong figure of Suguru, examining the small band between your fingers. One arm is behind his head, propped up against the headboard of his bed, the other draped around your waist that is covered in his t-shirt, sheets tangled between you both. You listen to the beating of his heart, racing a bit from where your head rests, nervous about your answer.
“It’s beautiful,” you say honestly. You think back to his earlier words: I love you and I’ll love you till the end of time and then after that. We were made for each other and I… I want to spend the rest of our lives together. I want you by my side, through it all.
At the time you didn’t quite register the words as a proposal, still recovering from the sex you had just had with him as you emerged from the shower. But then he leaned over and pulled out a tiny black box and your feet stopped. He reached out, pulling you towards the bed until you were where you were now.
Suguru watches you patiently, waiting for your answer quietly. You slip the jewelry slowly onto your ring finger, twisting the band as you think to yourself. You loved him, loved him so much that it sometimes hurt. Especially when you thought about your differing opinions in the Jujutsu community. Suguru with little care for non-sorcerer's but still protecting them, his close-minded thoughts on them. Your admiration for them and the simplistic lives they have. The naivety their lack of abilities granted them. A part of you wishes that time and maturity would change his mind on the matter, that he would at least grow to not disdain them so much, but you know him.
Yet, despite that, you can’t imagine your life without him in it, but you’d never considered this. Not yet anyways. You were only 18, hadn’t even graduated yet.
You slip the band off and look up at him, hand cradling his jaw. “I love you so much and I want to spend my life with you, but-”
You notice the way his face falls slightly and you quickly shuffle forward, a soft kiss to his lips. “But we’re still young.” Your thumb strokes his cheekbone reassuringly. “It’s not a no, it’s just a not yet.”
You feel his fingers stroke your back and he moves to kiss your forehead, your eyes trying to discern his reaction to your answer. You weren’t dumb, you knew he had been off lately. More reserved as he spoke to Satoru less, took more solo missions. This was the first you had seen of him in two weeks. You had tried getting him to open up to no success.
“So long as you're my girl,” he smirks finally and you flush from the nickname given to you by him. You slip the ring back into the box, leaning over him as you set it on the nightstand before you pull back, hovering over his face with your own smile as you lean forward.
“Always.”
You startle awake, chest heaving as you shoot up. It had been awhile since you thought about that moment in your life and the promise you made to Suguru hits you like a brick.
You’re sweating, having fallen asleep with so many layers on, Satoru’s fancy silk sheets, and Satoru’s own body heat radiating off of him. He’s still passed out beside you and you realize it’s not even dawn yet, the sky still dark. You quietly slip out of the covers, pulling the hoodie off as you make your way to his bathroom. It’s stopped storming and you crack the door shut as you turn on the light, examining the mess in front of you as you begin to clean it up. A welcome distraction to the dream-like state of your memory.
Just as you begin to sweep some more shards into his trash, Satoru is cracking the door open behind you and he meets your gaze with a look that can only be described as pain. Likely a migraine from the booze, you think, and maybe more when he realizes what you’re doing.
“I hire help to do that,” he jokes, trying to keep it light as he remembers everything from last night and that day, guilt and lust weighing on his consciousness.
He had fucked you - again. You had kissed - again. And again Suguru was dictating both of your lives, your decisions and reactions - and he wasn’t even here. So he threw a tantrum and avoided you, went out and drank too much at a bar (which he told you), fucked some random girl in the bathroom in an effort to forget you (he left that part out - and it didn’t work), and proceeded to get into a bar fight without using his abilities (again, he had told you this).
“I don’t mind,” you shrug. He watches your back, notices the traces of faint scars on your shoulder blade from a case you and he did when you were teens - before he was good at healing himself and Shoko was still honing her practice; before Toji’s attempt on his life, and Suguru went darkside. He also notices the new hickies he left on your neck and shoulders, feeling his dick twitch at the memory, even when it ended how it did. Or the fact he nearly fucked you last night again, despite his anger and jealousy and guilt.
He catches your hand, motioning you out of the way as he finishes your task, a polite yet awkward smile on his lips. You were used to cocky Satoru, sociopathic Satoru, silly or protective Satoru - this Satoru felt like something else entirely, almost vulnerable as if he was stepping on the glass in his trash. His body feels so close given the course of events, the restlessness between you both as he gazes down at you.
“How’s your head?” You ask softly.
“Feels like a bomb dropped on it.” He winces for added effect, the lights irritating his eyes.
“You are the poster child for an anti-drugs ad,” you note and he smiles as your own attitude relaxes. He thinks that maybe if both ignore the tension it’ll be easier, like before.
You leave him to his business in the bathroom, grabbing your hoodie on the edge of his bed. When he leaves the room he is stretching, an exhausted yawn falling from his lips before moving back towards his bed.
“Hope you slept okay,” he said, burying his head in the pillow as he watched the side of your profile.
So long as you’re my girl…
You turn slightly so he doesn’t see your face. “Slept fine.” You glance over your shoulder at him, his hair messed up and bags under his eyes. Even in this state he looks handsome, perfect. “Thanks for letting me sleep here.”
He gives you a small genuine smile before he buries his head into his pillow, ignoring his throbbing head.
“Don’t mind,” he mumbles sleepily before you leave.
***
“...Students and I should be arriving tomorrow,” Askari said on the other line and you heard some chatter in the background, the sound of a stewardess offering drinks.
They were all on a private flight back from their wrapped up missions and it would be the first you would see of them since they left at the beginning of the year.
“Just be safe, all of you,” you replied, opening the door to your office. You looked around the space, some papers still knocked on the ground from being fucked on your desk.
“Of course. See you soon.”
You give your own goodbye before pocketing the device. Satoru was still passed out at his place, nursing an alcohol-induced migraine. You were fortunate to be on your own right now, eyes falling to where you knew your ring was tucked away as you went to chew your lip in thought. You winced from the action, a bruise having already formed.
A sudden knock on the door had you turning, Shoko popping her head in before she took in your appearance and the state of your office.
“Rough night?” she gauged.
You hadn’t come to work in your usual professional apparel, dressed casual for the day with the sole intent of trying to work things out and maybe help yourself in the process. You needed to talk to someone about everything, and with things with Satoru being so strange at the moment, you knew you needed to come clean.
“Do you have a minute?” you asked.
***
You took in a huff of the cigarette, warmth filling your chest as you managed not to cough. You found yourself laying on the medical trolley again, staring up at the ceiling. Shoko sat at your feet, smoking her own cigarette.
“So Gojo, huh?” she mumbled out in thought.
You let out a sigh before agreeing softly. You each had been sitting here for nearly an hour as you finally told her everything that had happened - from sleeping with Satoru, to kissing him, and the complex feelings you were beginning to have for him. You even discussed your dream of Suguru, the forest, and the late night visits you had with him before Kyoto that not even Satoru knew. Lastly, to add icing to the cake, you finally admitted you weren’t okay since you interacted with a curse-user and came across the mysterious curse.
And because Shoko is Shoko - she took it in stride and you felt terrible for not telling her sooner.
“I tell you all of that and Satoru is the takeaway?” you laugh, perplexed.
A small smile spreads across her lips - rare for the tired woman.
“I could tell something was wrong,” she admitted. “I’m a doctor, afterall. I was just waiting for you to open up, but I was always here if you needed me.” She inhales a drag as you watch her, grateful. “And Suguru proposed when we were still in school? Damn.”
You swing your legs off of her as you sit up, leaning against the wall beside her on the trolley.
“Yeah,” you whisper, then add more clearly: “It was about a week before he renounced the school, before the events at the village…” You think about how he was during the proposal and the events leading up and after. Suguru had always been a little dark, a little mysterious. But he could also be sensible and loving. The man he became was something you could have never anticipated. You let out a frustrated sigh, pinching your brow. “Things have been remarkably more complicated since he’s shown back up.”
“Sounds like he never really left,” Shoko observes.
You're quiet from her words, knowing they hold some truth. When Suguru was still recruiting, before he attacked Kyoto, you had seen him several times after breaking-up after discovering what he had done to the village and its civilians. It was hard each time, especially when it was still so fresh in the beginning. He actively tried to recruit you, messed with some part of your life when he saw you trying to move on or date someone else, or he made late night calls similar to the one you experienced when all of this started only a few months back.
He wasn’t always so… possessive to such an extreme or obsessive. You knew Suguru, even in his dark days now. He didn’t like to exhibit it, but he was an emotional man, passionate in every sense. He always wore the nonchalant facade well, but you knew how Suguru operated when it came to the things he loved or valued.
“No… no I suppose he didn’t,” you agree.
“Does Gojo know? About all the times?”
You shake your head, tears prick your eyes as you think about your former love and your complicated relationship with your best friend - and Suguru’s former best friend. “I never told him… and I know a selfish part of me did that because I hoped Suguru would change, that he’d change his mind. And I know it’s wrong."
“He was our friend. It wasn’t easy, and I remember how you and Gojo were. It nearly killed you both.” She takes another drag, pondering her thoughts before she exhales. “But Suguru is also dangerous. Sure, he’s charming, but the Suguru we knew… he’s gone.”
You nod as you wipe away a tear. You flick some of the ash building up on the cigarette into the trash can between you. Her words ring in your head the same way Satoru’s did the night on the bridge - the Suguru you knew died the night he left the school.
You both sit in silence, finishing up your cigarettes, letting the weight of your honesty sit between you both.
“Be careful with Gojo,” she finally says, looking over to you. “I don’t think either of you could handle this world without the other.”
Your mouth fell open from her words, a gentle squeeze on your knee before she jumped off the trolley and left you to your thoughts.
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