“Have you tried this yet?” Gojo points at Shoko with his fork, the chocolate cake on the end dropping a few crumbs onto the table with the motion. Set before him is a fair amount of sweets, all in different stages of being eaten. The current one, a delicious chocolate cake with candied cherry cream and dark chocolate ganache is too good for him not to tempt her to try. Besides, they were out and supposed to be enjoying themselves, he certainly was so she should follow suit. The doleful aura she was exuding was really harshening his vibe.
“You look like shit.” He adds, drawing his fork back towards him and plopping the cake into his mouth. Gojo peers at her from being his glasses while he chews, only speaking up again when he’s swallowed it all down. “Which is saying something since you always have dark bags under your eyes.”
Perhaps to others his words and attitude would come across harsh or uncaring but that wasn’t the case at all. In his own way he was prompting Shoko to express herself and letting her know that he was listening. A part of him can gather why she’s dreary. It had been a year since……. but he also desired to be wrong. Gojo leans back in his chair, fork now idly poking and prodding at different items without making a choice of what to eat next. Suddenly he wasn’t as hungry as he’d just been.
“… Did you have a nightmare? Maybe we could invest in a nightlight for you.” He adds as a second thought, his version of lightening a dark mood. / @uncrsed
the two of them were certainly a sight to behold : satoru gojo, with his plentiful mountain of cakes and pastries practically begging to be eaten, opposite shoko ieiri and her single cup of coffee. five shots of espresso, a splash of cream, and a thin-lipped smile set on her face. she can’t help but roll her eyes as satoru points out the obvious lack of refinement to her appearance, the dark circles that seem to be tattooed beneath her eyes. “yeah, i know. not like you’re much better off, ” comes a deadpan response, but that’s how it has always been between them: dry humor and metaphorical toy-knives pointed.
( sharp enough to make a point, but never harm. they balance each other like that.
it wasn’t always just the two of them, though. )
“the least you could do is point out something new, like how my hair thinned out. then i know you’re really paying attention.”
shoko shakes her head, nose scrunched in disgust at his suggestion of cake. sweets had never been her thing, and if she were being honest, the selection laid out before satoru made her stomach turn. to each their own, she supposed.
but cake and desserts symbolized celebration, happiness -- all things that felt wrong today. the cafe’s empty seats felt like they were filled with ghosts, moments of the past - clear indicators of what-had-beens turned what-ifs. sometimes, shoko thought the ghosts were real. she’d have to stop herself from whipping around, prevent the grief of facing the fact that the black pony-tail in the corner of her view was nothing more than a memory.
with steady hands, she takes another sip of her drink and wipes the corner of her mouth with a napkin. “i don’t need a nightlight, but you’re not wrong about nightmares.”
“... well, not exactly nightmares -- there isn’t much that scares me anymore.
i just keep thinking about… you know.” shoko gestures vaguely, then slowly curls her hand into a fist and rests it in her lap.
“... that. ‘cause there’s a seat right across from me that’s feeling awfully empty, and all those stupid pastries could feed another person.”
always loosely-worded clues to her feelings, as if she’s prodding the situation to see what to say. she’d be shocked if satoru didn’t feel somewhat similar to her.
“.... especially since it looks like you’re having trouble deciding what to eat next.”
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