#me and jesse armstrong collab when

[sukunasun]

i think about your kendallroyfication of gojo at least once a week

*gazes longingly at the succession poster on my wall*

its impossible to compare two icons against one another but i will say gojo would cope better than kendall ever did. only he suffers a fate worse than not becoming ceo. (i would have wanted satoru to have it, his name is on the building people, it was literally named the GOJO deal. wake up.)

do you think he's ever stomped his tiny foot down exclaiming "i am the honoured one!" when his favourite double XL digimon t-shirt had been confiscated in exchange for yet another haori because he insists on wearing it to every formal event. who cares about a tea ceremony with the royal family, he needs everyone to know about his beloved agumon.

some corrections should be made, he doesn't actually drown himself in a fishbowl's worth of alcohol because he's not even a fan of it. not a single drop. pure dislike. gojo's infamous creator has unfortunately disclosed that information after i decided to turn him into an alcoholic slash drug addict slash rehab enthusiast. yes, he's been to a few. so we'll just have to believe he'd deal with the pain of privilege in other ways. makes you wonder how much of a bore satoru actually is when he doesn't drink, doesn't fuck, only takes drugs when he has a boo boo, and most probably spends that allocated funding for idk...parfaits and sanrio themed desserts. saccharine and colourful, unlike the kind geto likes which are reminiscent of red beans and taro.

there's a nice place somewhere in ginza they frequent. although 'nice place' is rather generous considering suguru calls it a "piece of shit chain with the best fucking ohagis in japan." satoru rolls his eyes because geto says the same thing about everything he tries. the novelty doesn't last very long before he gets bored. rice crackers, pain au chocolat, satoru's actual body and soul for like three years in college.

ugh, that's a can of worms he doesn't want to unleash on a depressing and grey rainy morning. he's got no time for this when he really needs to get suguru's opinion on what to do about bankruptcy. something about his father borrowing billions of dollars. whatever it's complicated and the asshole had never really cared for consequences. gojo doesn't need to remind the world of his father's iron fist and small ego. but he explains just enough of the situation to geto. in corporate jargon with an eerily uncharacteristic 'i'm in deep shit' tone. he's never been one to panic.

"so what do you think?" he rushes geto for an answer and to the untrained eye, geto seems like he's hardly listening because he's busy tsk-ing and rolling his eyes at the servers who are obviously ignoring his request for extra napkins. not that they're busy with the morning rush or anything. 'they just hate me because i'm pretty' yeah yeah, we know suguru. your face card is platinum and so are your graff rings. please. you're perfectly capable of getting your own napkins. (it's purpose is less to do with wiping the crumbs off his lips and more as a buffer between his oh-so-sensitive hands and this piping cup of tea. you want me to touch this cup? with my bare hands?preposterous. it's filthy!)

"what if we came in, took the whole thing off your family's hands," geto suggests like it were so simple and not at all a ploy to bring gojo's family to ruins. that's the thing with suguru. he doesn't know how or why he says these things so casually.

jokes aside, he genuinely wonders if his best friend even likes him. there's this awkward tension to prove they're more than just two guys who get coffee every week. maybe if he stared at him for a second or two longer, he'd give in and comfort satoru like no one else in the universe ever had or will be able to.

they leave with umbrellas in hand and coats that are so expensive it's the same price as a car. or a down payment on a house. not that they'd know. they don't pay for these things like normal people do. satoru doesn't have a thing for labels, too gaudy, too showy. it comes off as some stealth-wealth bullshit but the truth is he won't admit his mother buys his clothes for him and now, that task has fallen into suguru's authority.

this might be a good time to note that he's barely gotten a pastry for himself. and the news of his father's company has yet to hit the headlines. it's enough to drag him out of his thoughts and back to reality before he smirks and shoots geto a sweet little "yeah? go fuck yourself." turning his suggestion down.

suguru laughs cheerily and it's so beautiful the clouds part for a ray of sun to catch the droplets off the edge of canopy shielding geto's profile. "you know i'd never...i'm on your side, toru," he whispers so fondly. a soft, gentle pull of syllables masking something he knows geto is dying to add to that sentence.

right then, they reach the street crossing where they usually part. he wants to ask him for more advice, more options, something that'll stop him from staring down the glass panes of high-rise windows. "i'll figure something out," suguru assures him, leaning in close because they wouldn't want any spies to hear, and leaves a kiss on his lips tasting like tea and glutinous rice.

satoru's gonna be sick.