autumnbaguette

[autumnbaguette]

Tokyo

June, 03.07 pm

“I told my therapist about you.” You said nonchalantly while opening the popsicle you bought earlier.

“Here.” You give one of the popsicle to Satoru as he sit down right beside you.

Satoru take the popsicle, his eyes looking at you. Seems like he doesn’t believe about the things you’ve said earlier.

You and Satoru sat down at the bench while watching the first year students taking turn running around the track. The weather is nice, clean blue sky with some splash of soft white clouds. Summer is here already.

“Really? You talk about Him also?” Satoru ask you, his eyes hiding behind the black sunglasses.

“ I spill everything and Her response wasn’t that good.”

Satoru smile as he bites into the popsicle. It was funny he thought, the way you talk about those serious issues in a laid back manner as if it doesnt even matter. Even though He also feels bad, you must have it harder that him.

“She prescribed me with lots of medication, I can’t even fall asleep by myself. Well, at least I can finish all those damn reports.”

You devour your popsicle since it melts quite fast. You knew Satoru is looking at you. He stops biting the popsicle some moments ago while you talked. He looks guilty. He feels guilty.

You looked at Him, raising your eyebrows. What is it? you thought.

“I’m okay, Satoru. Stop looking at me with those eyes.” you smile as you try to enlighten the mood. But his eyes stays the same.

“Do you believe that times gonna heal everything?” Satoru asked.

You look at him, puzzled by his sudden question. His hair swaying with the gentle breeze. He stop eating the popsicle, the heat melts it away. His eyes wanders far beyond the field, hiding his sadness away.

“I think so, but you have to be intentional about it. Otherwise time is just time. It’s what you do with time, Satoru. It doesn’t mean anything if you don’t put meaning in it.”

“Time is just time, that makes sense.” He’s repeating your words as if it was some kind of spell. He ate the last bit of the popsicle, smiling at it.

Satoru stands up, his hand sway away his pants, stretching out. He got this glimmers on his eyes, he look at you.

“Where are you going?” You ask

“To spend my time.” His grins got wider, his silly face is back again. “After all, I need to be intentional about it right?”

Satoru starts to run to his students, yelling their names saying some silly things. His steps lighter than before, as if some heavy weight has been lifted from his shoulders. You smile at him.

Time is just time huh? You whisper to yourself. You look up to the sky, the cloud is moving with the wind. Your mind wanders to the summer several years ago. For you, the time already stop flowing. Summer was a constant reminder about what was happening, also about him.

You let out a small laugh,

What a hypocrite.

[autumnbaguette]

you’ve started seeing geto almost every day now.

shoko told you last week that you weren’t crazy—you had already convinced yourself that the light and shadows had made themselves into apparitions—but you were wrong. he’s there, always is.

today, he’s waiting inside your apartment, standing under the warmth of the kitchen light, that blank stare you’ve gotten so used to sitting on his face. lately, you’ve wanted to equate him to a ghost following an old, half-forgotten routine—you don’t think he really knows why he’s here, just that the path is the same and the walls seem a little different.

you suppose you can’t equate him to anything now, not when he’s twirling your lazy susan around with one finger, flipping past pepper, cayenne, paprika…

he stops when the door clicks shut.

this is a… new one, to say the least. you’re used to catching glimpses of him in grocery aisles, watching him stalk the corners of apartment buildings he used to live in, but he’s never gotten this close before. it’s haunting—he’s stood here more nights than you could count, twirled that damn spice rack while his arms trapped you just under his gaze—but he’s colder than he ever was.

you toe around the perimeter of your kitchen, avoiding the panels of wood that you’ve always known to creak and crow at the slightest tremor in the floor. you know he’s seen you, and you know that you won’t be able to creep past him, but part of you doesn’t want to anyway.

“back so late?” he asks. part of him is still the geto you know—the tiniest bit of his old inflection leaking into the flatness of the rest of it. it’s teasing, almost. warm like the yule log stations your parents used to put on TV around the holidays—not quite there.

“it’s early these days,” you reply, and he taps his fingers against the counter. there’s something there that you can’t quite place—a shadow that creeps down the back of your neck just as much as it’s ran its way through his. his hair is falling into his eyes, and you miss when you could see the rise and fall of his cheekbones from across any room.

he hums back to you.

you slip past him, around to your closet to plop your heels somewhere in the back, and then around again to your kettle. he doesn’t move as you fill it with water, nor as you put it on the stove, but you can feel the way his gaze follows you with every turn.

you turn when you’re done with it, cross your arms and lean back against the island counter to really look at him. older, a little more tired, hair longer and brows furrowed like they weren’t before. realistically, you should yell at him, tell him to get out of here before you call every cop in the city to take him by the arms and drag him out, but you don’t. really, you can only sigh.

“why are you here, suguru?”

the eyes that have been trailing you for the past three minutes finally flick up to meet your gaze. he spins the spice rack again, and then turns directly to face you, arms crossed to mirror every part of your position like he knows it so well. the rack is still spinning when he speaks again, pepper, cayenne, paprika…

“i want you to marry me,” he says. you’ve just realized he smells like that tobacco cologne you bought him three christmases ago.

you laugh. “i’ve heard that one before.”

and you have. mark the calendar back three years, end of december, that cologne still new on his chest, and you’d have found yourself right back in the kitchen. you were both a little younger, then, and he told you he’d marry you when it was right. eighteen never was your year.

he quirks a brow in your direction—the most emotion you’ve gotten out of him all night—and bites the inside of his cheek.

“if you’re wondering why, it’s just like you said,” you reply again, taking a pause to let him work it out before you even say it, “not the right time, dear.”

“i’m not saying it’s right, i’m saying i want you to marry me.”

if you’re honest, you don’t see a difference, but your kettle is whistling and geto’s moving to take it off the burner before you can move to do it. you grab your mug and your tea while you both consider the silence.

you plop your dry tea bag into the mug (it’s one he got you, neither of you acknowledge that you grabbed it at all, much less that it was out of instinct) and then breathe a little sigh.

“i wanted to marry suguru,” you say with a purse of your lips and a shake of your head as you pour water over your tea, “not you.” you turn to look at him, and he’s got his tongue poking at his cheek.

“it doesn’t change-”

“it does. you look like him, sometimes you even sound like him, but you’re not. i don’t know the man standing in my kitchen any more than i know the author of my favorite book.”

“kafka,” he says, and the way he does it quirks your lips into a smile.

“hey, i prefer to call him franz these days.”

that gets laughter out of him, even if it’s just a quick burst of breath from his chest. you sigh, you drizzle a little honey into your tea, it all feels a little too familiar.

“but still, suguru, you know i can’t-”

“but you could try,” he says, and it almost sounds hopeful. he’s squeezing his fingers in his other palm while he talks, gliding his hands up and down each other—you know he’s not nervous, but if you hadn’t known suguru, you’d think he was.

“i could try,” you say, “and i could fall in love with you, and you could disappear, or kill me, or just decide that i’m not enough.”

“i wouldn’t-”

“but you could.”

you take a sip of your tea. it’s herbal, to help with the headaches. you get them around this time of year, and you can already feel the lingering breeze of the first snowfall right around the corner.

he dips down to open up a cabinet—it’s got two bottles of unopened scotch that you couldn’t bear to throw out—he grabs one and hooks his fingers around the cabinet with your mugs. there’s a big blue one in there that you never use, and you know he’s reaching for it before his fingers even make contact. he pours the scotch in there and takes a sip. he used to make a face—not much of one, but enough to know that it burned. he doesn’t anymore.

“you know i wouldn’t,” he says.

“i don’t know you.”

“you still know me.” you both take another sip and you shake your head as you swallow—warm all the way down your throat, you can practically feel the heat in your ears. you’re trying not to clench your jaw and you’re trying to bite your tongue but he’s so close to him you can almost taste his tongue in your mouth.

“my suguru wouldn’t leave me for three years-”

“your suguru was left with no other choice-”

“my suguru knew that he was loved.”

he stills for a second, fingers tapping against his mug—ring, middle, index, ring, middle index—and then he brings his arm out to the side, letting the ceramic clatter against the metal of your sink as he takes one step forward, and then another, until you feel your own mug taken out of your hands. you know he sets it to the side but your eyes are only looking up at him—one big hand hovering just above your cheek, thumb brushing your bottom lashes. you watch his tongue lick his bottom lip.

“your suguru still loves you,” he says, low, with the gravel of his voice so close that you can feel it in your chest.

you’re watching him through your lashes. his eyes are bouncing across your face—cheeks, nose, lips, back up—and you furrow your brows at him. you take one step closer, just enough that his palm is resting against your cheek and your lips brush against the heel of his hand when you speak.

“if you really were my suguru, you wouldn’t’ve had to say anything.”

your voice is low, barely more than a whisper—quiet enough that you can hear the breath you exchange between the syllables. it takes one more beat, one more scattered gaze across your face for him to close the gap—and you hate him.

you hate him because when he’s kissing you, he tastes the same, and his hands go to the same places and you know half of it is instinct and half of it is memory. you hate him, because you can still pull his hair out of his face and he’ll feel like suguru and he’ll lift you up onto your counter and dip his fingers under your shirt and you’ll swear he’s still yours and not a phantom of what’s left.

you hate him, because when you can smell that damn tobacco and scotch and whatever the fuck else makes him feel like suguru, you’re not sure you could still tell him no.

[autumnbaguette]

Tokyo 10.44 am

Spring is almost over, here in Jujutsu High the sun shines brightly. Gentle wind in between the trees, it is definitely getting warmer since summer is just around the corner.

Here you are, after meeting with Principal Yaga for some elder’s business. This place doesn’t change at all. The same corridor, the classrooms, the field and of course the gymnasium. Standing at the porch looking down towards the field where you can see some first year having their sport activities.

“Running errand for the elders again huh?”

You turned your head and here he is, Gojo Satoru in flesh. He used to greet you with playful smile. Now? Acknowledging your existence is as good as it can be.

It’s been a while since the last time you saw him. After what happened in Shibuya, you and Satoru relationship wrecked so bad there is no point of return and also the fact that Satoru himself confess to you that he’s the one who finish Geto Suguru on that fateful day. It was the final nail to the coffin.

Unable to process everything that happens, you decide take overseas station. That way, you don’t have to face him, to face them.

Hell yeah, im running away

“There is some matters that needed to be discuss with Principal.” you answered without looking at him. Only to focus your vision on that sport field.

Just go away please

Satoru settle himself beside you, his eyes hiding beneath the blindfold. His breathing is steady, his silky white hair is dancing with the soft breeze.

“You change your hair colour.” He said it nonchalantly.

“I did. Needed some change so I dye it.”

“I don’t like it.”

You looked at him. Confuse with his calm behaviour. The fact that he stay this long with you and having this simple conversation is just weird.

“Satoru, what do you wan-“ even before you finish your question, his hand cupping your cheek. Even with the blindfold. You knew he look at you straight in your eyes.

“Are you gonna run away again this time?” Satoru ask you as He caress your cheek.

You move away from his touch and just start to walk away. Damn right you’re gonna run away again. Maybe a bit further this time. Far from everything and everyone.

“Let’s start over. Start over from the beginning. I lose you then, I cant lose you again. I understand that you need some time or even space to reconsider, just don’t push me away.”

You stop your footstep. You don’t believe the things that he just said, you can even barely comprehend it. You look back at him, in disbelief.

How could he?

“I know i’m the one who pushed you away, I blame it to you, even though i know that it’s not even you fault to begin with. I’m sorry.” There is no malice in his voice, he sounds so defeated. So tired too.

His footsteps is getting closer, and Satoru stops right in front of you. Satoru hesitates for a while but then he hug you tightly. Like he is afraid of losing you, like you are about to dissipate into thin air.

“I hate you.” You said.

“I know.”

Against your words, you hug him back. His warmth against your body. Your spring is finally here again.

Suguru, I got him back

The nostalgic feeling overwhelming you. He was your bestest friend and the one who’s still got hold a big part of your heart other than Him.

[autumnbaguette]

satosugu in jujutsu kaisen chapter 78.

"in a dream you saw a way to survive" by clementine von radics / "armed cavalier" by richie hofmann / "the worm king's lullaby" by richard siken / unknown

[autumnbaguette]

Throughout heaven and earth, i alone am the honored one.

[autumnbaguette]

Gojo not taking care of brats more

[autumnbaguette]

Tokyo, 12.22 am.

"Mam, you haven't sleep in two days now. You seems restless since we arrived in Tokyo."

You look at your assistant, well groomed middle aged man, crisp black suit, the only person trusted by the elder to 'accompany' you while being stationed overseas.

"Is that so? Well, I guess i will take a rest for a bit then. The reports can wait yes?". You stand up and walk out from your office. Your assistant follow right away.

Here you are. In the living room that have this big window looking out the Tokyo city skyline. The shimmering lights of the city under, pretty yet somehow so distant and lonely, reminding you of someone you used to know.

"I'll sleep for a few hours and continue with the reports. You can leave your post and take a rest too."

"Thank you Mam. But please take this." He hand you several pills. "You can't sleep without these. I will report to the elders that you take the medicine regurlary."

A bitter pang hit your chest. Damn those elders. Whose fault is that anyway. You take the pills and swallow it.

"Thank you, you are dismissed."

With that, your assistant leave the penthouse. It is quiet now. Eeriely quiet. So you went to the bedroom, walking towards the closet. Changing your clothes into a white shirt thats too big for you. It looks a bit worn out but it will do. You lay on the bed, not even bother to open the bed cover. Again, those night skyline caught your attention. You can't help but wondering Where is he now?

As you about to close your eyes, you sense a presence. A familiar one and you know exactly who it is.

"Yami yori idete yami yori kuroku, sono kegare o misogiharae." You chant the barrier without even bother to open your eyes.

"I see that you're still wearing my shirt as pajamas. Old habit die hard really."

That voice, that damn voice. Sounds so laid back as if nothing bad ever happens. The last time you see him was after the confrontation in shibuya. He doesn't even say good bye, or sorry at least. The fact that everything went downhill afterwards, your relationship with Gojo getting colder and distant as the time passed by. It is a well known fact that You and Gojo somehow blame each other for the downfall of Geto Suguru.

"What do you want, Suguru?" You asked him, again doesn't even bother to open your eyes. Is it the fact that you are so sleepy because of the pills or the fact that you can't trust yourself about all the things that you gonna do to him if you open your eyes. Kill him? Maybe not. But begging him one last time to go back to you seems much more reasonable now.

The bed dipped and he sat beside you. Suguru study your face. Eyes closed, your lashes is a bit damp. Darker eyebags. And he notice your hair. Its different colour now. As pretty as always he thought. His finger caress your cheek, you fluttered your eyes open and meet with his dull grey eyes.

None of you or Suguru said anything. As if both of you really understand each other. Or maybe you just want to kill the time. Maybe if you stay silent without asking any question, he will stay longer.

"Shall I kill the elders? They overworked you a lot." His hand wander to your hair, stroking it gently. You can't help but smile and chuckle a little bit. "That would be great, but no Suguru."

"Or maybe you can just quit? Buy a land in rural area, raise some chickens and ducks. Plants lots of flowers and fruit trees.  Remember that? Have a simple life."

It is strange that after what happened, after all these years, here you are with Suguru, having a small talk like some kind of married couple do at the end of their day. No hatred, no baggage whatsoever.

Indeed you want it, a simple life with him.

Tracing his face with your finger. Almost no differences since the last time you saw him. A little bit freckles here and there. Those small lines at the end of his eyes. No eyebags though. His hair is still the same, the earings, his smile.  

"Im sorry." You said. "I should've known." This time your finger cares his cheek, "Can you just go back? I will do my best explaining everything to the elders, to Satoru. Im sure he will listen, you are still his bestfriend afte-."

"No." Suguru cut you off. His tone is cold, distant.

"Nothing will ever change my ideology, my plan and my future. I love you, i still do. But it doesnt put you at the top of my list. You should be aware of it by now."

Indeed, this is Suguru. The real one. Everyone sees him as the emphathetic, the calm and the good ones compare to Satoru. Yet, this side of him never really caught their eyes. How determine he is once he set his goal, nothing gonna stop him. Not even you, not even his family, not even his bestfriend Gojo Satoru.

It would be a lie to say his words doesn't hurt you. It hurt a lot, you want to cry. Screaming at him but here you are, looking at him. Still caressing his face gently, afraid that if you do it harder He's gonna fall apart like a fine china. Crumbling into pieces.

So, it's okay.

It's gonna be okay.

"I know, but i still wanna take my chances." you said while smilling, trying hard to stay awake since the pills starting to get you sleepier than before.

He doesn't say anything. Suguru watch your face as the sleep starts to take over. His hands keep stroking your cheeks gently. To be honest, he kinda expect you to get hostile with him. Maybe curse him a little bit when he appear, or maybe you will cast a curse spell to hurt him. But you did none of it, somehow he feels relieve but sad at the same time.

Your breathing becomes steady, thats a cue for Suguru to take his leave. One final look at you, "I'm sorry. I promised to make you the happiest yet somehow I always ended up hurting you the most."

He kiss your forehead, correcting your sleep position and pull the blanket over you. Still adoring your face for one last time, "Good night my love. Until we meet again."

[autumnbaguette]

if gege wasn't able to kill you, mappa sure will

[autumnbaguette]

[autumnbaguette]

Gojo and Geto | Jujutsu Kaisen Ending