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starmapz · 3 months ago

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cigarettes in the theater || s. geto

❦ suguru geto x sorcerer reader

❦ oneshot

❝ the week following the declaration of suguru geto's status as a curse-user, you receive an invitation to meet him for a movie. you know you should decline, but you don't have the heart to do so. what harm is there in sharing one last cigarette with your lover? ❞

❦ warnings ; no pronouns used. angst. hurt/comfort. pet names (angel, sweetheart, darling). use of cigarettes. graphic descriptions of death and injury. heavy subject matter discussed.

❦ words ; 3.4k.

masterlist || dependency - prequel || nicotine dream - follow up

By all accounts, you should be scared. You should be breathing heavily, your heart pounding in your ears, wide-eyed at the carnage that surrounds you in the theater.

Yet… you aren’t.

You’re numb to it, numb to it all.

A body slumps to the floor in the row before you and all you can do is swallow the bile that threatens to upheave the contents of your stomach.

The presence behind you shouldn’t bring you the ease that it does. Yet, he’s been the only constant in your life as of recent, and you can’t bring yourself to hate him for what he’s done, even as a drop of blood runs down the side of your face. It isn’t your own, of course. He wouldn’t dare lay a hand on you.

You should have fought back against him, you should have protected everyone, but instead, you sat and watched. Maybe that makes you just as bad as it makes him. Maybe you’ll be sentenced to death by the higher-ups as well, seen as an accomplice to his actions tonight.

You wonder if you’re broken.

The worn red fabric of the seats hides the bloodshed so well that with little effort, you could clean everything up. You could hide the night’s calamity and go back home to Gojo, Ieiri, and Nanami. You could sweep this all under the rug, hide your trail, and blame it all on him.

Yet, you don’t move to do that.

He sits only a few seats back, smoke drifting languidly from his cigarette. His eyes are glued to the screen, just as yours are. There’s a sort of dramatic irony to the kind words being spoken on-screen as a drama plays.

“Cigarette?”

His voice is as sultry and kind as ever. You take a breath before you turn to look at him.

Suguru looks as beautiful as ever. His dark hair is up in a half-bun and the rest cascades down his shoulders, falling effortlessly over his collarbones. His eyes are sunken, tired, but that’s not unusual for him as of late. He’s wearing a deep blue sweatshirt and gray sweatpants. It’s almost cruel of him to do so, he knows it’s your favorite outfit on him.

It tugs on your heart strings in ways you can’t describe with words.

Your chest feels heavy, heart pounding suddenly against your rib cage, practically tearing its way out.

“Yeah,” you respond, barely above a whisper. You know he can’t hear it over the movie, but he reads your lips.

Long legs step over the chairs, descending the theater until he reaches your row. He pulls down the uncomfortable red seat, plopping down beside you. His cigarette hangs from his lips as he pulls a small box from his pocket. His sharp eyes watch your movements as you pull the cigarette from the cardboard.

“You look tired,” he comments, leaning over to light the cigarette.

“I could say the same for you,” you respond neutrally, taking a drag from the nicotine sitting between your lips. You blink a couple of times as you let the relaxation wash over you, a temporary escape from the dark corners of your mind.

Then again, it’s all temporary. Every life saved, every ‘thank you’ or lack thereof, each one a fleeting moment forgotten in the grand scheme of things and instead replaced with the sight of your lost classmates. Your lost friends.

The sight of Haibara flashes through your mind and you turn your head from the screen, from the bloodied seats before you, your jaw trembling subtly.

Suguru notices your movement, setting a hand on your knee. Your brain tells you to pull away. It tells you he’s dangerous, but there’s nothing more you want right now than to curl into his arms and feel his lips against your temple just as you had only a week ago.

So much has changed since then.

“Did it make you feel better?” You ask out of the blue, keeping your tone even as you steel yourself and push the image of your classmate’s body from your mind.

At the end of the day, his answer doesn’t matter. You’re surrounded by corpses in a theater. By all accounts, he’s already made his bed and you’re both laying in it here and now.

Suguru pauses, observing your expression. He can’t gleam anything about how you’re feeling, beyond the underlying sadness in your tired eyes. That look has been there for a while now, though. He recognizes it all too well. The dark circles beneath your eyes are a shade so dark that concern plagues him, though he knows he has to play his cards right in this conversation if he wants to help you heal.

“I don’t regret it,” he responds evenly, his thumb rubbing circles into your knee.

You bite your lip to prevent it from trembling. “That’s not what I asked, Sugu.”

You’re finally looking him in the eyes, for the first time in a week, for the first time since his return from the mission that sealed his fate as a curse-user.

You’re as gorgeous as he remembers, perhaps more. Even with sunken eyes, glossy and sad, and your hair somewhat disheveled, he finds himself unable to stop the way he stares at your lips. He still yearns to call you his still.

“It did, yes.”

It’s a nail in the coffin. This isn’t just a departure from Jujutsu Tech, he’s traveling into dangerous territory now, with malicious intent.

It should hurt to hear those words, it should be painful beyond belief. Yet, it’s not.

You think again that maybe you’re broken.

Silence hangs heavy over you both as you take a deep breath, processing his response.

“How’s Satoru?” He asks calmly.

You swallow the bile rising in your throat. It’s sour and you frown at the feeling. “He’s been better. He’s angry with you.”

“I figured,” he hums softly, a bleak smile pulling at his thin lips. “Shoko?”

You take a long drag from the cigarette. “I’m not really sure,” you admit, avoiding his gaze now. You feel guilty for the fact that you’ve drifted apart from both Nanami and Ieiri, but the entire faculty seems to be drowning. None of you have time to yourselves and when you do, you’re locked away in your dorms.

“And you?”

You pause. You don’t know how you are.

No, that’s a lie. When Suguru reached out to invite you to a movie, deep down you knew this would happen. Maybe not the pile of bodies, but this conversation. From the moment you hesitantly typed see you there, you knew it would all lead to you crumbling in his arms.

Suguru is your lighthouse, your beacon of hope and safety. Your home. You love him too much to let him go.

“I miss you.”

He doesn’t miss a beat as he responds, “I miss you too.”

You can’t help it this time, your lip trembles and your chest heaves with a sob. “It’s all so fucked without you, Sugu. I don’t think-” Your voice betrays you, cutting you off as another sob wracks your body.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he hums, resting the cigarette between his soft lips as he moves his hand from your knee to wrap his arms around you. He braces himself as he lifts you up out of your seat, away from the armrest so that he can cradle you in his lap.

With a final drag from his cigarette, he puffs the smoke into the air and puts it out on the plastic armrest beside him, leaving a melted circular indentation behind. It doesn’t matter, in the grand scheme of the mess that is the theater.

His nimble fingers slip your own cigarette from your fingers as you cry into his chest. He taps his finger once against it, his other arm holding you tightly to his chest.

His warmth is so familiar and brings a sense of comfort you haven’t felt since the day the news broke.

The corpses of 112 of the village inhabitants were found dead.

Like alcohol over an open wound, the thought stings. You don’t agree with what he did, but… you suppose there is a reason you’re here.

“Why did you do it?” You swallow a sob, taking a deep breath to steady your breathing when you finally begin to steady your emotions. You shift in his lap to straddle him, letting your hands rest on his built chest.

He leans back in the chair, which reclines slightly with his weight. Taking a drag from the cigarette that was yours, he lets his hand rest on your hip. “You know the answer to that question.”

Of course you do. You’ve been thinking it. Nanami’s been thinking it.

Ever since Haibara’s passing, it’s been plaguing you all. Nanami feels he failed Haibara. You feel you failed them both as their superior. Yet Suguru… he’s been feeling the effects since Amanai’s passing. He’s been slowly spiraling and despite your best efforts, it’s clear this was inevitable.

“That’s not what I mean. What was the breaking point?”

Suguru blinks calmly, holding the cigarette to your lips to take a drag. “I exorcized the curse,” he begins, “yet they demanded I kill two young girls.” His expression shifts from neutrality for the first time in the night to one of disgust. “Shit, you should have seen them. Caged like goddamn animals, two innocent children.”

You try to keep an impartial expression, but your eyes widen, betraying your shock and distaste. If he can find the right words, Suguru wonders if maybe, just maybe, he might find you back in his arms for longer than this conversation.

“They’re sorcerers,” he tells you, “but they weren’t responsible for the curse.”

Your fingers grip at his sweatshirt as you wrestle with your emotions. You want to hug him, bring him the comfort his eyes silently beg for, but there’s so much going through your mind, so many questions to ask.

“There were innocent people there,” you state blankly.

“Were there?” He challenges you.

Your brow twitches, you’re not sure what to make of the question. It seems obvious that there would be. “Of course,” you respond, lips parting.

Suguru takes a long drag of the cigarette, putting it out in the same fashion as the previous one before dropping the stub to the floor. “Are they innocent for calling on us with no regard for the sorcerer bodies piling up?” When you don’t respond, he continues. “Are they innocent for standing by and allowing two terrified children to be caged like animals?”

Your gaze drifts to the side, melancholy swirling in your tired eyes. Suguru admires you as he lets you think, resting his hand that had been holding the cigarette on your thigh. He longs to bring you closer, to kiss your soft lips, but he refrains out of fear of ruining the conversation.

“I suppose that means I’m not innocent either,” you mumble, eyes darting to the severed leg that sits on the ground behind Suguru. You’re forced to swallow bile again at the sight, a shiver running up your spine. You’ve grown numb to the sight of death, but your stomach certainly hasn’t.

“Perhaps not,” he agrees, his deep and observant eyes taking in the minute twitches of muscles in your jaw.

With one hand firmly keeping distance between you despite the compromising position you’re in, you lift your other hand to rub your face, sighing. When you drop your hand back to his chest, he offers you a small smile. It’s just like him to keep smiling and offer solace for those in need in spite of his own turmoil.

“Do you disagree with my actions?”

“Yes,” you tell him firmly, not hesitating for a moment.

“Why didn’t you stop me, then?”

Your lips part, brow knit tightly as you spare a glance at the bloody scene around you. Why didn’t you stop him? You’re asking yourself the same question.

“I’ll ask again, my dear. Why didn’t you stop me?”

You want to vomit. You don’t agree with him. You don’t want to kill people. Why are you here?

All you can do is stare helplessly at him. Stare at his sharp and beautiful features, the way he looks at you with such admiration, the way his hands feel at home on your body.

“I don’t know,” you whisper. You’re almost certain he doesn’t hear you as the movie playing behind you picks up in volume and music plays.

Suguru attempts to pull you closer, but you keep your arms firm, keeping distance between the both of you. He doesn’t dare push it, push you. Not when he feels your resolve crumbling before him. Maybe it’s selfish of him, but he doesn’t care to be selfless any longer. He wants you, he wants you by his side.

“There’s a purpose to this all,” he tells you, raising his voice over the movie’s music. He’s running out of time to get through to you. Running out of time before the carnage is spotted by employees and Jujutsu Tech is informed. He already failed to convince Satoru to join him, but he knew that would happen already, the snowy-haired sorcerer was far too set in his ways.

“Satoru told me,” you say all too quietly, but he reads your lips.

“Then why are you here, my love?”

“I-” you pause, the words die in your throat. You can’t say what you’re thinking, it pains you physically as you turn your gaze to the melted hole in the arm of the chair, desperate to focus on anything that isn’t him.

“You can tell me,” he coaxes you, “even if it hurts me.”

You would never hurt Suguru.

“I miss you,” you tell him again, eyes brimming with tears now. The words are on the tip of your tongue. You know it, he knows it.

“I miss you too, sweetheart.”

He’s so patient, so calm, as he always is. You know no matter what conclusion you come to, he’ll accept it. He would let you leave, though you think you wish he wouldn’t.

The music in the background fades as the movie comes to an end, much more somber, quiet music taking over as the credits roll. The light from the screen dims, leaving the both of you in near-darkness. Suguru is running out of time with you as the movie nears its final moments. It’s only a matter of time now before staff arrive and the police and Jujutsu Tech are informed.

“I think I still love you, Sugu,” you whimper. You can’t hold back your tears any longer as finally they spill, sobs wracking your body.

Suguru shushes you softly, relieved when finally you give in and allow him to hold you to his chest. He runs his hand gently along your spine, soothing you as you tremble in his muscular arms.

“I never stopped loving you. I never will,” he whispers. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, closing his eyes as he relishes the moment. He missed you more than he ever thought possible, and the idea of losing you again when he’s already lost his best friend brings with it a sense of hopelessness he’s grown all too familiar with.

You clutch at his sweatshirt desperately as the reality of your situation crashes down on you. You want out. You want out of the world of Jujutsu sorcery and curses, you want out of the world where those you care about die.

Yet… you don’t want to leave with Nanami. You don’t want to work a nine to five job like he’s expressed interest in. You don’t want to stay with Gojo, you know he’s too dedicated to Jujutsu Tech. You don’t want to eliminate humans from the world like Suguru. But you don’t want to live without him either.

In a matter of a week it’s like your whole world came crashing down and you sit in limbo.

Suguru’s eyes flicker to the screen and he sighs. The credits are reaching their end as more and more logos show and he knows he’s nearly out of time. He can’t face Satoru again if that’s who they send after him, not right now with you here in his arms. He’s running out of time with you.

“I want you by my side,” he tells you softly.

You raise your head from his shoulder and he gently wipes your tear-streaked cheeks. “You can’t ask that of me.”

His calm eyes observe you carefully. “Talk to me, then. Why are you here?”

Your lips part, hesitant, but you manage to choke out what’s on your mind. “I feel lost.”

“You don’t want to be at the school anymore,” he fills in the blank. He knew that already, before he chose how he wanted to live, back when he was still a student, you had expressed a desire to leave.

“I don’t want to- to kill people, Sugu.”

“I wouldn’t ask that of you.”

You sigh, chewing on your lip. You inadvertently find yourself glancing down at his lips, pursed as he waits for you to make a decision.

“Then what are you asking of me?”

Suguru pauses, he hadn’t thought much of his answer to this question. He knew you wouldn’t want to bring harm to people, you’re too kind. He lifts his head slightly, staring into your eyes, a tempest of uncertainty thundering within them. As his lips brush yours, he can only hope, pray, that you’ll allow him to close the distance, that you’ll give in to him.

“I could use help looking after the girls while I’m away.”

You pause, taking in his words. There’s still a lick of uncertainty to this whole situation. Your life has lost its direction, but the one thing you find yourself drawn to is him. Although you disagree with his methods, he’s right.

You are here.

You didn’t stop him from wreaking havoc on the theater.

You don’t hate him for what he’s done.

You feel his pain. Yours just manifests in a different way.

Like a switch finally flips, you lean forward, pressing your lips to his. Your fear, your pain, even if only for a moment, it all dissolves as you’re consumed with him, with Suguru, your lover.

He slides a hand to the back of your head, pulling you into him as he deepens the kiss, passion overflowing from the movement of his lips on yours. His tongue swipes your lower lip and with a quiet whimper, you give him access to deepen the kiss. It gives him the chance to say everything his words don’t.

He parts from you, eyes flickering wildly over your features with nothing short of adoration in those beautiful deep irises of his. He pants lightly, catching his breath as he cups your cheeks.

“We need to leave, angel.”

You swallow hard.

This is it, there’s no turning back now.

Slowly, you nod.

“I love you, Suguru.”

“I love you, too.”

Hand in hand, you escape out the theater’s emergency exit. As the sun sets over the horizon, you spare a glance at your boyfriend.

You hadn’t noticed in the dim lighting but blood coats his sweats, dried into the gray fabric. His hair still drips with fresh blood and your breathing hitches when you see the way his keen eyes follow your gaze. He doesn’t seem at all phased by it.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you realize that he has bloody handprints covering his shoulders. Shaky hands lift to stare at your crimson palms. Before you can overthink your decision, Suguru gently takes your hand in his.

“I need a cigarette,” you whisper shakily, thankful when he complies. He lights it for you and as you take a drag, you feel your nerves calm.

You wonder what life would have been like had you met him at a normal college.

As news breaks of the carnage in the theater and you’re labeled as a curse-user too, you wonder if you have any right to wish for things to be different.

You wonder again if you’re broken, but as two young girls run up to meet you excitedly and hop into your boyfriend’s strong arms, you watch him with a small smile. Though he still looks exhausted, he seems happier.

For the first time in a week as you’re dragged into Suguru’s new home, you don’t feel the crushing weight of uncertainty.

You don’t regret your decision.