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aozui · 6 days ago

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waltz number one

THE ENDING HE DESERVED. alternatively: you were his best friend, and satoru was yours. that changes nothing. geto suguru has never been good at letting go of the things he cannot have.

plenty of angst, plenty of fluff, blood, canon adjacent au, no kenjaku, swearing, a little jumpy pace wise, s/o sashisu, haibara mention, heavily inspired by the elliott smith song ♡︎ wc: 1.7k

happy birthday @sandwhitches, I’m so grateful for you & love you bunches !! here’s ur baby I promise I took good care of him

geto was human until he turned eighteen.

to the free, the world offered itself for imagination. for freedom. for choice. to people like him, the world summoned—asking favor upon favor. mandating purpose, demanding use. to them, existence was debt.

“will it hurt?” he had asked earlier in the day, when he volunteered to pierce his lip before you. he hadn’t planned to, but the minutes you spent whining about it to satoru bothered him in more ways than one.

so suguru found himself in your bathroom, watched you fiddle with the disposable kit over the sink bowl, every swipe of the alcohol-doused cotton against the needle toying with his resolve.

he didn’t sleep much that night.

it didn’t hurt. not how it should.

what the hell was wrong with him? he couldn’t get you out of his head. he tried laying down, but he spaced out and saw your lips inches away from his, warm breath against his skin, bloodied tissue in hand, only to realize he was staring at the ceiling. he needed the energy for tomorrow. thankfully, exhaustion won the battle. after about three hours.

suguru stood outside the cafeteria the next morning, glass doors feeling a little too far away—hesitating a beat longer than he meant to.

he was going to say goodbye that day.

you, shoko, and gojo were already gathered at a corner table near the windows, the sun hanging onto sho’s lighter as she flicked it absentmindedly. satoru was mid-sentence, leaning back in his chair like gravity was optional, not a bone of maturity in that body of his.

your laugh broke through the white noise, and suguru’s chest tightened. his feet moved on their own.

“finally.” satoru drawled out every syllable of the word, finger-catapulting a ketchup packet across the table at him. “thought you’d flaked out on us. big day, huh?”

if he didn’t know what was good for him, he would have stiffened up quick. how well gojo satoru knew him made him uneasy. it made his gut twist.

“I don’t know what you mean,” suguru mumbled, sliding into the seat next to you. he hoped you didn’t notice him swerving your gaze, focusing instead on his one sided staring contest with haibara.

satoru spoke up again, grinning as he leaned forward, finger aimed directly at suguru’s lips. “snakebites are already rusting. told you not to get the cheap ones.”

you’d been so proud of your handiwork last night, so he kept them. not because you asked. because he could tell they mattered to you.

shoko, who had been picking at her food with a plastic spoon, glanced up. “does it hurt?”

dropping his hand from his mouth, he shook his head. “it just tastes sort of bitter.”

before you could add to the conversation, suguru pushed himself off the table and nodded his head towards the vending machine across the hall. “something sweet to wash it out,” he said, voice carrying the usual indifference, lacking the patience.

he didn’t wait for a response.

hands fumbling in his pockets for a coin, he found the leftover change from twenty yen lost to haibara on satoru’s playstation two. it clinked faintly as he slid it in, the machine whirring to life in the otherwise quiet hallway. he watched the purple-labeled bottle slot into the dispenser.

but suguru didn’t take it.

he stood there, fingers lingering. he allowed himself seven seconds: to cling to hope—to turn back. and it knocked him off kilter for a few, when he heard you call for him from inside.

yet he still turned around.

he went to the village.

geto got used to borrowing people—making use, taking what he needed. that was what made it easy to let go. of satoru, of shoko, of everyone.

then there was you.

winter was the worst. his decision to stay in tokyo made it difficult to navigate when multiple sorcerers were out on snow patrol. especially with the bounty on his head. the chill picked at his skin, at his rationality, and icicles decorated shrines, a reminder of just how far he had drifted. shoko took it well. satoru.. took it.

for the japanese, new year’s eve wasn’t simply about the festivals and the fireworks. families gathered in quiet ritual, heads bowed for forgiveness. albeit alone, he participated every year.

it had been ten.

in the dim light of an old shrine, geto knelt, knees pressing onto the cold stone floor. then his hand moved, slow and deliberate, toward his mouth.

he plucked the rings free, the faint sting at the corner of his mouth hardly registering. it rolled across his palm like something fragile, too small to carry the weight it had held for him all this time.

he placed it on the altar, the faint clink swallowed by the silence of the shrine. the other, he slipped into his pocket, fingers brushing against something.

thin, curling at the edges, was a worn out photograph. the four of you, crammed together in some forgotten summer on a beach he couldn’t remember.

his thumb pressed over the subtle crease splitting his own face in two. if your heart hurts, it still works.

but if he forgives, what is left?

he didn’t throw any of it away. he wasn’t that cruel. he left them there, on the marble ledge, putting them to rest beneath the shadow of the candles.

behind him, the shrine doors creaked closed, the cold swirling into the gaps.

the snow crunched under his feet. somewhere in the distance, laughter rode the wind. for the first time, he didn’t stop to wonder if it was you.

how ironic is it that betrayal and grief are the two strongest forms of intimacy, both unable to exist without love? you cannot betray a stranger, and it is impossible to miss someone you never loved.

“over here!” satoru’s voice cut through the buzz of the festival, loud and unmistakable. you barely had to look to find him—his tie-dyed ‘happy 2018’ tank sticking out like a sore thumb.

if you hadn’t noticed the pink on his cheeks, you would have assumed the cold didn’t even register to him; a gentle reminder that he was still human.

“how are you not freezing?”

he threw you an omamori, smiling from ear to ear. “it’s all about living in the moment, sweets. tried that yet?”

shoko stood beside him, hands tucked into her puffer jacket, watching the crowds with a sort of detached amusement, little clouds of breath puffing out in intervals. “he’s all pink in the face.”

"even the strongest sorcerer gets cold, huh?" you teased, eyeing the flush close up.

he rubbed his cheeks dramatically, coloring them dark red. "’s just the price of beauty," he winked,

"you two have no idea how hard it is to be this perfect. the jealousy is showing. you know I’m glowing.”

a dry laugh from shoko, "pretty sure that glow is just the frostbite creeping in."

you scoffed, but your stomach replied before you did.

satoru’s eyes lit up. “yes food!”

he grabbed your arm to steer you toward a stall. the vendor greeted you all with a customer service grin, and satoru - ever the enthusiast - ordered without checking the menu. you figured it would be something strange, but it wasn’t until the tray was handed to him that you saw just how strange.

satoru stared at the black bean mochi like it had betrayed him personally.

he stabbed it with a toothpick, examined it for a long second, and then bit into it. he looked at you like you’d just made him eat a spoonful of sand.

“is this what curses taste like?” he grimaced, reaching for water. “I understand why suguru ran away.”

you raised an eyebrow. "I thought you were the guy who could eat anything."

he popped another in his mouth, shoving the tray at shoko. “try.”

“fuck no.”

satoru pouted, “you two are hopeless.”

“excuse m—”

without warning, he placed his hand gently over your mouth, the sudden contact catching you off guard. his fingers lingered for a moment before he moved to lift his headband up. “look.”

fireworks.

“pretty, aren’t they?” he murmured, eyes following each one. “I guess new years isn’t all that bad.”

the countdown started, voices rising with each passing minute. the calls from friends, the occasional shout. the whole city was holding its breath.

ten.. nine.. eight..

you looked over to the empty seat next to shoko.

“you think he’ll come back?”

she sighed, getting up to go smoke. “wouldn’t surprise me if he showed up when he felt like it.”

three… two…

“he will.” satoru said, but he wasn’t talking to you.

missing suguru was craving warmth in the dark, second nature either way. an artist painting with tar.

you stood in the crowded train, gloved hand around the rubber strap that hung from the ceiling, steadying yourself as the train rattled along.

the atmosphere felt unusually heavy.

the doors slid open as the vehicle slowed, the platform outside immediately filled with people rushing in all directions. you instinctively scanned the crowd, your eyes darting over the flurry of movement, when something—someone—caught your attention.

suguru.

the train beeped, the shrill sound clawing into the air, as his hand pressed the button, holding the doors open longer than they were meant to be.

“your hair’s gotten longer,” you said, the words floating out before you could stop them. I’ve missed you.

suguru’s expression didn’t change immediately—he only tilted his head slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching. his hand held his side, slightly limping.

“and yours." he replied, voice low like it was a secret. I’ve missed you too.

the blood drizzling down from his forehead caught your eye. It didn’t look like his.

you didn’t care.

without thinking, you moved toward him, stepping off the platform and closing the distance to wrap your arms around him. he froze for a second.

memory is a candle burning at both ends, wax dripping, giving away to the dark. but it is still memory. and it is still you.

“have you been taking care of yourself?” you asked, the words flicking you both between the eyes like they were telling you to start picking up the pieces.

and then he smiled. the kind of smile that felt bittersweet, the kind that made a teacher uneasy and a parent worry. “at least curse me a little at the end.”

he forgives the world because it has you,

“happy birthday. I’m home.”

masterlist

my social battery this week had me feeling like I wrote this from the ivory tower 😭😭 happy birthday once again my dear beloved pookie snookums precious teddybear big dawg number one role model exploited child star prodigy platinum hit rapper nepo baby yung dj lil mitch I love you two times

#divs by aquazero #there is a library in this dimension #geto x reader #geto x you #geto suguru #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk drabbles #jjk blurb #jjk fluff #jjk angst #jjk geto #jujutsu geto #stsg #jjk season 2 #sashisu

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