The "Epilogue" to Straight to Heaven is finally, finally out.
Thank you all for your patience and support, and thank you for being on this amazing journey with me. I am so proud of this series, and it is forever something I will hold close to my heart.
After a long wait, I am so happy to present to you Chapter 17, aka the end, of "Straight to Heaven."
While this is technically the end, remember there is STILL an epilogue after this so Kilian and Levi are not leaving you any time soon. Thank you all so much for your immense patience, and your deep love and support.
So many of you have consistently supported LDBS and STH together, through it all, and I have never forgotten it. This ending is not just for Kilian and Levi but for you all. I sincerely hope you will enjoy it. I love you all so much and have the deepest appreciation for you.
set in ‘intrinsic warmth’ canon, because I needed to write something happy and I thought I should share it <3
Satoru can’t believe you don’t remember when you met him.
“This means you hate me,” he says to you, one day, in the Chapel. It’s mid-July, hot and sticky, and the weight of the heat in the air has made him lazy.
He’s got a white shirt on, and he’s pretty sure he’s got some sweaty patches there—if he was with someone else, Satoru would put in some effort to hide them, because someone else would probably think it was gross, but it’s you, and so he doesn’t need to. He likes that about you: it’s one of the many things he likes about you. You know him so well that he doesn’t care about things like that anymore. After all—Satoru flattens his hair down over his forehead—you don’t care about his new haircut, which he hates more than anything anywhere at anytime ever.
Satoru’s lying on his back with his hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling with hazy eyes. His sunglasses are crooked on his nose, and he pushes them up.
A few days ago, he’d used Limitless to try to throw a pillow at you, but he’d overshot it and accidentally blown a hole in the ceiling. He does feel bad, just a little, mainly because you haven’t stopped talking about how cold the winters are going to be. Satoru would like to tell you that you can just get close to him for warmth, but he hasn’t mentioned it because he’s such a good friend.
He thinks about that, maybe more than he should. He would like it if you could get over your whole touch thing, because he wants to be able to touch you. Sometimes, in the winter, he’ll see you shivering on your own, this huge divide between the two of you, and he just wants to put his arm around you and stop you from being so cold.
You’re always telling him how much of a heat radiator he is—my space heater, you say sometimes, which Satoru likes, because he likes it when you say things to him like that, like you’re staking a claim on him, that he’s your best friend, and it’s not only that you’re his—and so he figures that you should just shuffle closer sometime, and it’d be fine. Satoru hasn’t ever really touched you, and so he doesn’t know what it’s like: and he knows nearly everything in the whole world, so he wants to find out what it’s like at some point.
“You hate me,” he says again, when you don’t respond to him. Satoru looks over at you, pouting. “Why do you hate me?”
You’re cross-legged, leaning against the wall of the Chapel, flicking through a Vogue magazine. You roll your eyes and tut.
“I don’t hate you.”
“Yes, you do.” Satoru makes a big display of being really, really sad. He does this sometimes, because sometimes it’ll prompt you to say something a bit more overt, in terms of your friendship with him.
Satoru tells you all the time how much he likes you, how much of a good friend you are to him, how cool you are and how amazing you both are—but you’re more reticent with your feelings, and so he has to treasure every single time you say something like that.
He doesn’t think you know that he does it on purpose, but at the same time, you have these crazy psychic powers that you can always find things out about him. Satoru often thinks that you can read his mind—you can just look at him, and you know exactly what he’s thinking. It’s kind of spooky, but he’s okay with you having those superpowers, if it’s just you.
And it’s not like you’re going to use it for anything bad. You’re too cool to do that, and you like him. Which is really cool. You like him.
Except he’s pretending you hate him, which is funny.
“I don’t,” you say. You stop reading the Vogue—success! Satoru has claimed your attention—and start fanning yourself with it. “I just don’t remember everything in the world, Gojo.”
“It’s not everything in the world! It’s the first time we met. That’s important!”
“I remember the second time we met. That was more impactful, anyway.”
“How?” Satoru doesn’t understand that at all. “But you’d just met me! How was that not impactful?”
“I didn’t know you’d want to talk to me again,” you say, shrugging. “So, when you did, it was surprising. That’s what I remember.”
Satoru makes a face, scrunching up his nose. “Of course I’d want to talk to you again.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Course I would!” Satoru groans and then sits up, making a heaving sound. He pushes his glasses into his hair and pulls up the bottom of his shirt to wipe his sweaty face. “Agh. Too hot. Too hot, and you don’t remember when we first met, and I’m too hot!”
He looks over at you, feeling a bit petulant. You’ve stopped looking at him, and you’re focusing back on the magazine. You’re not even reading it properly—he can tell, since your eyes aren’t moving. Weird. Satoru groans again, to get your attention back, and you press your lips together.
“Hebi-Hebi,” he says. “Hey. Hey. Look at me. Look at me.”
You do. Satoru grins.
“You’re so mean to me,” Satoru says, and he rolls over to his stomach to get a bit closer to you. “So mean. How are we going to celebrate our best-friendiversary?”
You choke. “What?”
“It’s a thing,” he says, grin widening. “I’m pretty sure it’s a thing. When we became friends!”
“Shouldn’t that be when we became best friends?” you ask. You tilt your head against the wall, seeming to actually consider it. “There’s a difference between a friendiversary and a best-friendiversary, surely.”
“Oooh. Yeah, maybe.”
“So we should remember a date for our best-friendiversary instead.” You hum, thoughtful. “That would be nicer, since that’s more important.”
“So you’re saying we’re best friends?” Satoru asks, goading.
You raise your eyebrows. “Of course we are.”
You say it like it’s obvious. Satoru feels all glowy inside.
“Of course.” Satoru drags out the words, feeling how it sounds in his mouth. “Of coouurse. Of course we are! And you know what?”
“What?”
“Best friends,” he says, waggling his eyebrows at you, “should remember when they first met!”
You blow a burst of air through your lips, clearly pretending to be unamused. For all of your psychic superpowers about figuring out his thoughts, Satoru thinks he can read you pretty well too. It’s funny when you pretend to be all aloof and not like him, when it’s obvious that you actually really really do.
“You’re so annoying,” you say to him. Satoru laughs, and your lips twitch.
Ha-ha! Another success!
Satoru likes it when he can make you smile. It doesn’t happen all that often at all, and so when he manages it, it’s a huge success. It’s one of the best feelings in the world, he thinks, when he can make you smile. It’s only trumped by the times when he can make you laugh, which then is only trumped by the times you call him by his first name.
Satoru is Satoru, but you only ever call him Gojo. Which, yeah, is his name, but it’s also his name to everyone else—everyone else in the world thinks of him as Satoru Gojo, from the Gojo family, heir to the Gojo technique, which is really cool sometimes, but also really annoying and kind of not cool.
But to you, he should be Satoru. You’re the only person that he’s ever met that he’d want to call him Satoru. And so, when you don’t, he feels strange. You tell him often that he needs to get used to not always getting what he wants, but Satoru doesn’t think that he should have to, not really. In his opinion, everything would be better if he could get what he wanted all the time.
“So mean to me,” Satoru says again, without much gusto, because the day’s getting even hotter and he can’t really summon the energy to play out your usual routines.
You seem to be getting tired, too. You’re watching him with a funny look on your face, but your eyelids are drooping and you keep blinking all slowly, the way you do when you’re sleepy.
“Sure,” you say, yawning.
“Can’t believe you admit it.”
“Mmhm.”
“Can’t believe—” Satoru stifles a yawn: he caught it from you. “—that you don’t remember. I remember, Hebi-Hebi.”
“You should tell me, then.” You shuffle down until you’re lying next to him. You’re on your side, looking at him with a faint smile playing across your lips. Satoru feels glowy again. “Remind me, about the first time we met.”
“Should I?” Satoru asks, not caring about hiding his smirk. “Would you like that?”
“Maybe.”
“Then,” Satoru says, as he turns onto his side too, so you look like two mirror images of each other, if someone was looking down from the Chapel ceiling, “I’ve just got to, haven’t I? If you’d like it, then I’ve got to do it.”
Your lips press together, and then all of a sudden you’re smiling, big and wide, the way you barely ever smile in front of him. Satoru feels his stomach swoop. He loves it when you smile. My best friend, he thinks. Mine.
“I guess you have to,” you whisper, and you’re almost shy, almost hesitant. You know that you don’t need to: Satoru, surely, by now, has made sure of that. He’s spent his whole life trying to make you happy, all of his life that he’s enjoyed living. He doesn’t think that there’s anything he wouldn’t do for you, if you wanted him to. He’s certain you know that by now.
“Then I will.” Satoru brings up a hand between your bodies, and he loves how you don’t move away from him, the way you do to everyone else. You trust him, more than anyone in the world. This is what he loves, too: just as much as you are his favourite, he is yours.
Satoru rests his head on his arm, and settles in for a story; you’re watching him, with soft, affectionate eyes, and he is more happy than he ever has been. He keeps thinking that, when he’s with you. And, every time he sees you, he thinks it again. Here you are, listening to him, devoting your attention to him wholly, and you’re the best person he’s ever known.
“So,” Satoru says, so determined to keep your eyes on him, to keep your focus for ever and ever and ever, “it was a few months before my seventh birthday, and I didn’t know that I would be meeting my favourite person in the world.”
Please read my conditions below before you PM here in Tumblr or in my email, [email protected]. So I will be listing below a few things about the commission:
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DO’S
- Any fanart from any fandom! Any fandom that I find myself unfamiliar with is fine, as long I can be given enough information about it.
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DONT’S:
- NSFW (yet sorry 😂)
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- Furry art
- Mechs and complex machineries as it’s not my line of expertise so that you won’t get disappointed.
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