#but then again im not sure that could have dissuaded geto

[thesonicpunk]

im gomma vom..... i just watched a satosugu edit on youtube and i..... i have so many feelings about these two. with sns i can imagine a happy ending you know. BUT WITH SATOSUGU THERE IS NO ESCAPE. I feel like geto's actions are unredeemable. even if he hadn't died how could we redeem anything he's done. like he killed his own parents. there is no turning back. i understand him, what motivated his decision, his logic and his journey, but i really struggle with seeing how geto, hidden-inventory-arc-geto, becomes that radicalised (bear in mind i'm a sasuke defender but i think the JJK and Naruto worlds are different in ways that make Sasuke's and Geto's radicalism significantly different). at the same time, because i empathise with him, i respect his decision, and i don't think that it should be taken lightly, or taken away from him (this is something i think gojo feels too, hence never trying to dissuade geto or win him back to his side after that burger king (lol) meeting). so even if Geto was alive, stsg would still be unachievable AND IT FUCKING KILLS ME. sometimes i wanna write fanfic about them being happy and together but then im like... i can't do that without fully denying one of them their wholeness, you know? the decision both geto and gojo make regarding who they are in relation to jujutsu society can't be severed from who they turn out to be as people. please prove me wrong in the tags or reblogs or in the comments or ANYWHERE i need some fucking respite from this hellhole that gege has drawn me into.

[chimimon]

Melon

True to Timeline - Geto x f!Reader

Disclaimer! What you are about to read contains the following: angst, vulgar language, lack of communication, mentions of character death, not enough silly or fun times :(

& what I have to say is… SOMEONE BUY MYE A PLANE TICKET. TAKE ME BACK TO SUGINAMI! IM BEGGING YOU PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE, TAKE ME BACK. And you. Yeah you, @iamthemain-character. Next time don’t call me a hoe when you request something, you goober.

A Japanese summer meant feeling suffocated in hot and humid rain. But the downpour was beyond weather, soaking into the rest of autumn, dampening December before stopping in February. The month felt bathed in change and grey skies. Each morning had been cold, but the nippy air let up today as you walked around town with Suguru Geto, who had been getting quieter every time you would see him; and it was getting harder to feel like you were a good distraction.

“Is it any good?” You two were comparing melon sodas outside a convince store.

He took a big gulp before lifting the glass to stare into the bottom of the bottle. “It’s okay,” Suguru said unsure of himself. “It's not as sugary which is nice.”

“Really?” You furrowed your brows as you pushed your bottle away to read the label better. “Can I try yours before you drink it all? Because this one tastes like green dye and a waste of yen.”

Suguru chuckled as you two traded glasses. Another big gulp and he scrunched his nose. “What the hell kinda melon is this?” He placed it on the ground between his feet. “Hand that one back to me before you finish it,” He reached out without looking. “Just one more sip before you, little lady.”

You swallowed most of it down before handing it over. You swirled the light green liquid around, “That’s one sip for you, sir.”

“There’s like nothing in here now.” Suguru rolled his eyes, flicking the glass before having the rest.

The wind was picking up, you pulled your coat up to cover your face before turning to him again. Suguru was staring at the street without looking at anything in particular.

“You don’t have to make time for me you know.”

You shifted to face him. “I know I don’t have to?”

“I mean, Melon sodas in February?" He made sure to keep it light with a chuckle. “Really?”

“You didn’t say anything about it when I bought them. Or when I asked if you wanted to try the melon flavor. Or before we entered the convenience store. Or you before we left the school. You know, the list goes on.” You teased.

Suguru took a deep breath in with a thin smile. “I’m just saying, you don’t-” His eyes dropped before he continued, “I can get them next time. The drinks.”

Everyone else might gloss over it, the short pauses in speech, or the lost look on his face when he’s deep in thought; but to you, it was like walking past a limping dog. You either deliberately ignored its stride or have never seen one.

You two left from the front of the convenience store, across the street, and toward the station. A salaryman sliced by, nearly smacking you with a dirty look. On instinct Suguru pulled you in before the man could bump into you while eyeing the biker back, muttering under his breath.

He looked too upset by it, making you uneasy. “Suguru,” you patted his chest. “Suguru it’s okay, I’m sure he just didn’t see me,” you reassured.

“Yeah, well I’m sure he saw you,” Suguru said annoyed. “I know he did.”

Dissuading him with optimism meant arguing, and arguing meant fighting, and fighting was the last thing you wanted to do with him before the second cross light turned green, so you just shrugged. It was tough to feel like you were doing anything to take his mind off August. All your time spent together felt like you were wasting his, like he had better things to do even if it were just to look lost in deep thought.

Last February was just as cold, walking down the same streets to be teenagers in between assignments. When warmer weather rolled around, you would stay out longer, to either train or hang out, but with him, it never felt anything short of fulfilling. It was trips to the aquarium, going into those face-construing photo booths, and buying silly things that reminded you two of each other. You were slowly giving him a collection of plant-pressed papers, always using the first page in a small stack to write something meaningless and keeping the second one for yourself. Sometimes you would include an outlandishly cartoony pen for him to use, and sometimes you would see him use it in lessons. For you, he would buy coin pouches and card holders for the station. You had six-coin purses and three pass holders by July of last year and alternated between them, making sure he knew when you switched them up.

The coin purse you were using right now was made to look like a brown baby penguin, but Suguru picked it thinking it was a Kiwi bird. The pass holder he included was supposed to match with sliced kiwis and stars printed on the corners. Today you made no show of using it as you quickly smacked the card onto the reader. And if he noticed, he did not make it known.

In March you wandered around a street market alone, picking up fresh fruit to take back to your room. On the corner was an older woman tearing tan paper bags while a man around the same age was pressing clovers into the corner of each sheet. They were a friendly couple that seemed excited to have someone so young interested in buying pressed papers, so much so that they offered you to take some sheets with Sakura imbedded. The petals perfumed the soft, textured surface and you felt like you needed to save it for something special.

You saw Suguru three times that month, and he saw you once.

In April, you caught him outside the showers and at the time could not bring yourself to give him the clover-pressed sheets. It felt wrong but you let him wander out of view until the following week when the smell of cigarette smoke drew you to some double doors at the end of a hall. You crossed your fingers in hope that it was who you thought it was, and that they were with Suguru.

“Sup,” Shoko blew a puff of smoke away from you. “You look down, am I not who you were looking for?” She smiled at you.

“I just had something for him.”

You held onto the fabric-clothed gift, and she smiled at it. “What’s on it this time?”

“Clovers.”

Shoko leaned onto the bar of the balcony. “I’ll be honest. I haven’t seen him or Gojo around lately.” She said with half a smile now. “Do you think they know we’re looking for them?” She let out with a sharp chuckle.

You just stood there, letting that question hit you before swallowing the lump she pushed up your throat. “Is he on an assignment?”

She shook her head. “Not that I know of.”

You thanked her and left to hopefully find him. It was when you gave up looking, finally heading back to your room that you caught sight of him. He was looking in a mirror and was studying himself. Suguru was still and so were you.

Just move.

He caught sight of you in his reflection, turning to look before waving you over. Suguru smiled and he looked exhausted.

“Is that lunch?” He tilted his chin to your hands.

“No food here.” You smiled back. “But we can grab something if you’d like.”

Suguru took the gift that you now pushed out to him, feigning bashfulness as you scratched the back of your leg with your foot. “You are never going to believe what’s in there.”

“A liter of melon soda?” He said with the same feigned embarrassment.

It made you laugh but butterflies swarmed your stomach as he removed the blue cloth revealing papers held together by a white string. Suguru smiled at the clovers and rubbed his thumb over the sheets. “Just a little luck,” he thoughtfully read. “To your favorite peer?” He pretended to be hurt by it.

“Yes, my favorite peer.” You wiggled your fingers in the air. “Which is you, if you don’t already get that.” You tilted your head. “So does my favorite peer want food? Or…?”

“Not if you keep calling me your favorite peer.”

“Yes sir, Suguru-Sama.” You lazily saluted him as you two headed off.

The room was so compact that if you scooted back after sitting down, your chair would hit the wall as the most delightful scent of greasy fried food to fill the air. An older man stood at the center of it all, taking orders from a table wrapped around the kitchen which in turn was wrapped with customers. Suguru ordered chicken katsu with a runny egg over rice and you ordered the same. Then another man from the center poured you both the most refreshingly watered-down cups of tea.

“Oh,” you set your cup down. “Did I tell you Shoko was looking for you?”

Suguru didn’t even flinch, pretending not to hear you as he took another sip.

“And that I found 8,000-yen strawberries a couple weeks ago?” you rolled your eyes.

Suguru snorted and turned to you. “You didn’t buy them, did you?”

“And what if I did?” You said smugly

He pinched the bridge of his nose before looking away. “I’d have to keep you from shopping on your own then.”

Two bowls were set in front of you. And all you could think about was his ignorance of Shoko.

“Not like you’re any real help when I shop.” You split apart your chopsticks, “I don’t think you could stop me from buying the next 15,000-yen watermelon I see.”

“It’s not in season yet, is it? Wait, don’t tell me.” Suguru leaned on the table toward you. “It was square, huh.” He hummed.

“Yeah, and I was told it had magical powers.” You took a big bite of the sweet and savory chicken.

Suguru shook his head, and the banter continued like this for the rest of the night. The scene felt nostalgic, the air, his laugh, like you he was back to normal and thought almost wiped away his careful ignorance of Shoko.

Almost.

May brought quick phone calls and another coin purse. It was a fluffy bear with a bell on the zipper and inside was 8,000 yen and a sticky note.

Use this for something other than strawberries.

Suginami in late June held the busy grocery store scene just five minutes away from the station and some of the sweetest peaches you had ever tasted. Suguru had joined and was pulling you away from some outrageously priced pack of cherries. You were clearly messing with him, but he was playing along, tugging you by your bag, blocking your view, and nearly snatching your hand when aiming to grab you by your sleeve. Afterwards, you both parted ways because Shoko wanted to see you and it made you wonder what Suguru would think if you told him that.

You found Shoko texting on top of her medical guide seated at a park table. “So, how was the market?”

“Good,” you said thoughtfully.

“Did you go with anyone?” She teased.

“I thought I told you about it already.”

“Hmm,” Shoko closed her book and set her phone on the cover. “Suguru seemed excited about seeing you.”

You smiled at her book and brought your leg up to cross. “He seemed better.” You spoke. “But I can’t always tell.”

“Well, I caught him smiling as he left.” She said bored.

The smile on your face deepened. “Do you think he’s getting better?”

Shoko sighed. “I was trusting you to tell me.” She leaned onto her book. “I’ve been counting on you, you know.”

“Has Gojo said anything?” You said after some silence.

Shoko shook her head and said that if Suguru seemed busy, then Gojo actually was. “But he at least says hi when he sees me.”

You nodded decidedly to talk about something else. Normally those two felt like elephants that sat in the back of your conversations with Shoko. Their presence, or lack there of become more apparent as time went on, but if you ignored them for long enough it would eventually feel like sitting under some summer shade. That would normally work but Shoko felt playful and suggested something you had not thought about since last July.

“Shoko, that’s not funny” you hit her shoulder. “We are just hanging out.”

She was tossing around a pack of cigarettes like she was about toss in another to juggle. “I wouldn't tattle if you were going to call it a date. I don’t think he would mind.”

You leaned back, tilting your head toward you shoulder as you raised a brow at her. “Sure, you wouldn’t…”

“But I did ask him to make sure you left before buying any more fruit.”

“Is this about the strawberries? He told you about that? I didn't buy those strawberries,” you groaned playfully. “I’m not that dumb.”

“Well, you’re dumb enough not to tell when someone seems to like you.”

“Seems.” You emphasized. “I’ve been too busy trying to get him to talk to me some more before can I try to get him to like me back.”

“But he already does.”

“But he literally does not.” You stated back. “Don’t get my hopes up when I’ve already brought ‘em down.” You feigned chest pain.

Shoko chuckled before finally lighting the cigarette she was playing with. “I meant he was already talking to you, genius.” She lied with a smile.

It was dark before you both walked to your rooms, and seated outside your door in the dim hallway was a folded piece of clover-pressed paper.

Good luck back to you,

Your favorite peer.

The letter was now tucked into the top right corner of your mirror. You stared at it and then at yourself. It felt nice to have proof that he was thinking of you again because seven-coin purses apparently meant nothing compared to one handwritten note.

The Sakura papers would stare at you some nights and when they did you would pull them out to breathe in the scent of their petals before promptly tucking them away. They had to be used; you would remind yourself. Paper not used was paper wasted, but the words you hoped to jot down were typed repeatedly in your note app, then on a documents site in class, before being edited manically only for the whole draft to be cut. There was nothing you could say that seemed right for Suguru.

Everything felt too honest and raw before it watered down to something that didn’t sound like you. Creating drafts with Suguru in mind made thinking or writing impossible, like no combination of words were good enough for you to take out of the draft. Not if they were words that would be handed to Suguru.

You took out sheets of paper you occasionally stole from his gifts, setting the Sakura sheets aside off your desk. The sentiment and nostalgia that sprung from each page were nauseating, and pulling out a pen enhanced the feeling; but tonight, you were going to write for yourself. You were going to recount your favorite memories, thoughts, and anything you cherished in case you could no longer distract or entertain him the way Suguru needed, in case he would vanish, and this was all you could keep for yourself.

At a time that was too late to be night but too early to be morning, you pulled out a sheet of Sakura paper to ask if he would like to go to a festival. The oceanic hour took swept you away as you drifted from your room to tie up dock on a bench, settling to watch the sun peak over the hill with the note in your hand pinched between a finger and thumb. Leaning your head back against the wall, you could hear someone walk in front of you before sitting beside you.

“It’s kind of early for you, isn’t it?” Suguru’s voice melted into your ears. “Since when do you get to be mysterious, sitting out here on your own?”

With your head still against the wall you watched him in the corner of your eye. “Since today, I guess.” you warmly smiled at the ceiling.

Suguru raised his brow, leaning his head back as well. You closed your eyes, and all at once the sleep snuck up your neck, out of your mouth through a yawn, and onto leaden eyelids. Before you knew it you had dozed off. He watched your whole-body melt, your head tilting as your grasp loosened, your note to him nearly falling out of your hand. Suguru caught it from your weak hold as you fell onto him.

All your notes tended to be short and sweet, but even with just ten words this seemed like a formal and intimate invitation.

“Alright,” he grinned. “I can go to a festival” Suguru whispered as you slept against his shoulder, resting his head atop yours as he watched the sun stretch into the sky.

When you woke up half an hour later, he was still leaned against you. At first, you were going to savor this moment until you noticed your note slipping out of his hand. Like cold water to the face, you were completely awake and now trying to see if he was too.

“Suguru,” you whispered.

He didn’t flinch.

“I’m just gonna...” You carefully leaned over to try and snatch your note back. “Come on,” you softly pleaded.

Suguru saw your hand enter his blurry, closing line of vision and handed it back to you as he slowly got up. “Sorry.”

“About?” Your stomach flipped.

“About leaning on you.” Suguru stretched. “But I'm good to go. You know… if that is for me.” He smirked to your hand.

Warmth covered your ears as you sheepishly smiled. “Duh.” you laughed.

“Just a quick heads up though,” Suguru had turned to leave but looked at you from over his shoulder. “I probably won’t see you till then.”

You nodded slowly as the returning languor kept you from asking why.

Suguru did not lie when he said you wouldn't see him till, but finally the last Saturday of July finally rolled around and the morning of made you nauseated. There was something about seeing him today that made you anxious, but you had to remind yourself that you would not have to face Suguru until midafternoon and that should be enough time to get over any old butterflies.

In the early afternoon, you asked Shoko if it would be too much to put on a yukata, to which she said no before teasing you the whole time you were getting ready. Eventually, you chickened out of the yukata and put on something you felt comfortable moving around in, all while still being dressed up.

Around three, you waited at the entrance. After ten minutes you texted to ask where he was, and after twenty Suguru said he was on his way. At four you were wandering around the stalls, hoping he would arrive soon to play games. At five you threw pins at balloons for a coin pouch to give to him ironically, it was a close game, but you did not win anything.

Finally, late in the afternoon as the sun was going down, someone with a basket gave you a firework-themed fan, a sheet of paper with the next festival date printed on it and a smile before you could find somewhere to sit in the grass. As the fireworks started you found yourself eating custard-filled mochi on your own as the crowd of people watched in awe. After eating Suguru’s piece of mochi, you began to seethe.

Two hands cupped your shoulders, momentarily snapping you out of the smoke. You looked up and behind to see Suguru with an unconvincing smile on his face. “Hey.”

A loud crash echoed in the sky.

“Hello,” you tried to hold up a smile as the fire returned and the smoke made it hard to breathe.

“I'm really sorry I-” he dropped the act, backing up to sit down beside you. “Time seemed to move faster than I do.”

Your chest sunk while re-plastering your smile. It took a lot to bite your tongue. “All good.” With your hands beside your face, you wiggled your fingers as him as gingerly as you could.

Suguru nodded, seating himself beside you before facing the firework show. Each burst of color was drumming as your emotions wedged their way in between you and him.

All morning you were excitedly anxious about some stupid outfit, at a stupid festival that would not have been so bad if you just invited Shoko like you thought you should. The whole afternoon you felt self conscious. Could other people tell you were just waiting around? That you were relieved to have not put on a yukata? That the second piece of mochi you bought was for someone who wouldn’t be there to eat it before it could go to waste in the heat? Could everyone sense how stupid you felt the one time you expected something from him?

Geto didn’t even look happy to be there. He wasn’t smiling at the sky, he could barely smile at you and he didn’t give any reason for why he just showed up. Suguru just got to appear out of thin air and disappear if you would let him.

As the day played over again, you began to move into how you spent the previous months with him. There were so many other things you could have spent your time doing or putting your effort into. Despite all that, you knew the person you were last November would have been ecstatic to hear that you were watching fireworks with him the next July. Unfortunately, the person you are now feels like everything is too bright, hot, sticky, and hard to sit through.

Why couldn’t you just be grateful? Why was it so hard to convince yourself to be tonight? The answer that came to mind was that you got selfish, followed with the thought that so did he.

Apparently, Suguru had been talking to you for quite some time and only noticed you were not listening when he decided to turn and face you. He was in the middle asking if you caught the small shower of light when you ignorantly interrupted him.

“Does this even mean anything to you?”

“What?” He said unable to hear you over the perfectly timed roar of the crowd.

All you could do was stare while patiently waiting for their cheers to die down. “I said,” your lip trembled. “Does this mean anything to you?”

Suguru’s eyes grew wide as he watched every breath you take looked laborious. “I’ve been looking forward to this since you asked.” He said like you knew.

“That’s not my question.” You snapped. “I’m asking if this means anything to you. Does it, or does it not, Suguru?”

His stare sharpened. “It means everything to me.”

The total days in between every text you sent to him and received were compared to the minutes spent on any given phone call with him. Then the stark difference between those two began to dance around your train of thought, bringing you from angry to confused.

“If that’s true,” his stare felt like it was cutting through your neck. “If that’s true, Geto, then I couldn’t tell.” the last few words fluttered in the space between you two leaving Suguru was speechless as he now seemed to always be.

“Why can’t you help me see that?” you got up onto your feet, towering over him, and staring down at his hopeless gaze. “Why can’t you make me believe that you care, or that it matters when I call? I mean-” You paused, trying to pull yourself out of your head, and into his shoes. “I try to imagine the thing that eats at you, and because I can’t I feel- I don’t know.” You were pleading with yourself to get it together as every word tripped over each other. “I just want to know. I wish I could do something, but I cannot when I don’t know. All I want is for you to talk to me.” Trying to catch your breath and stop yourself from crying was becoming an impossible task. “If you’re not going to talk to me, or be honest when you do, can at least be here on time?”

“I thought it was obvious that I like getting to see you?” He said clearly hurt, ripping the latches of grass beside him as he nervously picked at the ground. “I didn’t mean to be late, I don’t ever mean to be. I don’t get up thinking ‘I can’t wait to keep the only person who cares to talk to me waiting!’- I don’t mean to miss your calls, it’s just- I just don’t see them. Like, did you forget that we're supposed to be sorcerers?” Suguru soured at that last word. “I don’t even think I’ve had time for myself, let alone time for you.”

“If you have believed that I am the only one who has cared this whole time, then shouldn’t you also believe that I have deserved your honesty?” you muttered inaudibly.

Suguru was quiet, lifting his head to watch people walking back to wherever they came from across the grass before resting his hands on his knees. He had no intention of speaking until a tear rolled off your lashes and onto the back of his hand. The sudden drizzle from smoky skies brought his attention back to you, joining to stand as you backed away.

“Do you know how hard it is to be near all of these people?” He called out.

Your eyes widened. “All these people?”

Suguru tilted his head back with a raised arm, suggesting you look around at the people passing by. All of them seemed to be staring.

“Even now, just- all these Neanderthals. Not even one of these people knows how to be grateful for the things we give up. For time we have to give up, or for the stress we put ourselves through pushing the limits these fucking animals. These worthless monkeys.” His tone was bitter again, and it looked like would snap at any moment. “I mean why give someone something when they can’t even ask for it? When they can’t even see what we are giving them? Why do we give our time with people we don’t care about?”

Everything was blurry as more tears spilled down your face. Suguru couldn’t look at you and had turned away to ask more rhetorical questions.

“Geto!” You let out with your fists balled at your side.

“Is it not Suguru to you?” He hissed.

“Out of all the times you...” you stopped yourself, drawing in deep breaths. “Suguru,” you started over with a calm tone and shaky breath. “I’m sorry for dragging you out here.”

Geto was just staring, and you were uncertain if anything were reaching him, or if anything would for as long as those people were around.

You motioned for him to come back, flashing your train pass with a pathetic smile. “Let’s go back before it’s too late.”

Suguru nodded before approaching you.

Despite everything that was said, Suguru wordlessly asked you to get close as he opened his arm to drape onto your shoulder, allowing you to hide the residue of emotion that stained your face. You leaned in, blindly following his lead. On the train ride home, he held onto the metal handrail above your head, leaning in to stare at your knees as you sat in front of him. Neither one of you tried talking, and any flame of emotion died in your lap as you two left on your station.

After arriving outside the dorms, you both stopped beside the bench. Suguru kept his distance as you tried to recognize yourself in the reflection the glass panels in the double doors. Apathy filled your chest as something tried to bubble out. You noticed Suguru inched closer as you focus moved from your reflection to his as he kept his. He had been watching your eyes.

“I love you so fucking much, Suguru.” You placed your hand on the handle, squeezing it tight. “You have to have known that, right?”

Before you lost his reflection, Suguru looked petrified as you pushed the doors open, coolly walking down the hallway before hearing they shut behind you and hoped that once you got to your room, Shoko wouldn’t be waiting.

She wasn’t.

Suguru tried to call twice since then, and you watched it go to voicemail both times.

In August you wrote a love letter worded as an apology and waited for the right time. Shoko read it and said nothing. Not about Suguru, not about Gojo, or the letter.

There was no excuse for avoiding him. best excuse for waiting, or at least what you told yourself was that the embarrassment of a heartless confession was too much to bear in Suguru’s presence. That was barely good enough for you because the feeling only grew as the days trudged on, until it became unbearable for you to go to class, and Gojo had found you on the rooftop.

“There she is,” He cheekily shrugged a shoulder.

“And there it is.” you frowned. “Does God’s favorite seek company up here in the heavens?” You lay with your back on the floor and your legs on the wall. “Does God’s favorite finally miss me?”

Gojo laughed before scooting beside you with his legs in the air. “Perhaps, perhaps.” he smiled at both your feet to the sky. “God asked me to check on you, since you’re like his third favorite or whatever.” He put a hand on his chest prophetically.

“Oh?” You noticed the distance at which his feet reached the sky more than yours did, and you wondered if Suguru’s were equally as long as Gojo’s.

“Yeah. You know, with you being gone an all, I thought ‘Damn. She’s really sick!’ But then I thought about it some more.” He looked over as you and grinned. “Since when does Shoko take notes?”

“Oh,” you looked up and over to him. “Since now I guess.”

“Don’t be coy,” He flirty prodded. “Someone feels bad for having a little fight at every Shoujo manga’s favorite kissing spot.”

You leaned toward him and scrunched your nose, “Knock it off or I jump off, big man.”

Gojo laughed as you pushed against the wall with your legs, sitting back and standing up. “Why are actually here, Satoru?”

“Is missing you not enough?” He pouted.

“Well,” you put a thoughtful finger to your chin. “I guess I should feel honored.” You crouched down, blocking the sun from his eyes. “I mean, how often do I get to see the Gojo Satoru these days?” You meanly joked.

Gojo dramatically sighed as he copied your maneuver to get up. “I could say the same, angel face. You’ve been quite the rare sight to everyone but Shoko.”

With a deep breath in, you sighed a little louder than you should have, leaning down to pick up your bag and sling it over your shoulder. You were going to walk past him but Gojo started moving side to side, blocking the straight path toward the stairwell doors.

“Hey, I just caught you, pal.” He said with an eyeless smile. “You’re not slipping away that easily.”

“Satoru.” You said in a short breath. “Come on, man.”

Gojo hummed thoughtfully, studying you.

“I heard you wrote a letter.”

You blinked rapidly. “Yeah?”

“Well?”

“Well… well what?”

Gojo let out a short chuckled before shaking his head. “Ah, forget it.”

“What about my letter?” The small irritation bled into his ears.

He was quiet and waiting.

“I write a lot of letters, Gojo.” Which was not the point, but Shoko was gonna get an earful if you could help it. “Is there one that sticks out in particular? Are you asking something of me?”

“Not particularly,” he slowly blinked. “Nothing you don’t want to do.”

You studied him back with folded arms. “Is there something that you don’t want to do?”

“It’s not that I don’t want it’s. It’s that I can’t.”

“Is that because we’re sorcerers?”

Gojo was not completely sure where this was going, and you caught that in his brows. Something in the air changed as you were thinking about the fireworks again. About those animals.

“Or is it because you’re the strongest one?” You taunted light heartedly.

“I think you’re on the nail with that one.” His usual shit eating grin returned, and you wistfully sighed.

Has Gojo ever stopped to look at him? Was he pretending that he didn’t need to?

“Okay.” You threw your hands up in uncomfortable surrender. “Gojo Satoru, I will make an effort to make up Suguru Geto and come back with a full report on said encounter.” You said sarcastically, hoping he would finally let you through. “But don’t be disappointed if nothing comes out of it, captain.” You mockingly laughed.

“I’m counting on you.” Gojo’s sentimental tone made you sick to your stomach as you floated down the stairs before the door could shut.

I’m counting on you.

That hung in the air until September. You thought about it but decided against giving him the letter. Instead, you used a thin black ribbon to keep all the memory recorded flower-pressed papers together inside a bento bandana. You felt confident until you had to get the ball rolling. The mere thought of texting him was full of manic nervous energy, and instead of asking to see him, you asked when his next assignment was. After ten minutes he gave you a time a time, saying he’d be out tonight, and should be back then too.

You called Gojo to hold onto your present for Suguru. But little did you know, Suguru Geto waited for you on a bench before leaving to a small rural village.

He would not receive all his stolen paper as he had never return to the school.

At some point, Shoko saw him in Shinjuku and afterward told you about his plans to change the world of sorcery. At some other point Gojo had spoken to him, and anyone could see that the interaction weighed heavily on him for days.

Three years later, you completely understood what he was saying about the crowd. That for as long as they existed, will continue to exist, and blindly weave their own webs, your time together had been, and would always be borrowed from them. It would have to found in-between saving the audience from themselves. Untangling an inevitability spun web.

If only, then it had clicked a day sooner.

Ten years after you last spoke, Suguru Geto had been put down before December ended. The following another year, through a taxi’s rearview mirror, you saw someone wearing his skin outside a convenience store that sold those dye-flavored melon sodas.

© 2024 chimimon