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sorcerersseestars · 1 year ago

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LIMERENCE (part I)

Gojo Satoru x gn!reader

"I can't stop loving you, no matter how hard I try."

summary: Your long-time friend stirs feelings inside you that you never realized existed. Of course they bubble up in your chest while he’s in the midst of ignoring you and discovering his own possible romance. Your mutual friend thinks she has it all figured out—or does she?

pairing: gojo satoru x gn! reader

fandom: jujutsu kaisen

genre: hanahaki sickness au, angst, hurt/comfort, drama, slow burn!

warnings: mentions of feeling sick, being stonewalled kinda, usage of the word (Y/N) bc Gojo is too fed up for nicknames (in reality idk what else to use 😶), Gojo being an ass (common theme in my fics oops)

word count: 3.6k

a/n: This is the first part to my hanahaki au! I’ve had this in my drafts for the longest time, but never committed to writing it all out until now. This first bit is kinda slow and maybe confusing BUT hopefully I’ll be able to clear it up next chapter. Not proof read very thoroughly; will probably regret later 🫥

part ii part iii

“DON’T YOU THINK you could be a bit nicer to me?” You try, clasping your hands together as you look up at him with an odd smile—a cross between apologetic and playful. You’re joking, or at least half joking. It’s too difficult to be serious with Gojo; his habit of masking emotion with jest must be rubbing off on you.

Only one corner of his mouth raises. “Good one, (Y/N)-chan. As if I didn’t use to pay your bills.”

He doesn’t look at you when he speaks, and he walks away from you without a single glance. You frown and lightly jog a few steps to catch up to him.

“Ah, and I’m forever thankful for that!” You say, cringing at how overly peppy your tone is. “But that’s not exactly what I meant.”

“Hmm,” Is all he says. His hands are in his pockets, but he doesn’t carry himself with as much ease as usual—his posture is closed off, angular and tense.

“What I meant was–” You prompt your own answer, as he doesn’t make any move to. “We haven’t seen each other in a while. I know you’ve been really busy lately, so I don’t blame you, but I think we should go out and do something. Could help relieve some work stress too, don’t you think so?”

“Maybe,” He says, the word short yet effective in its delivery. The word was sharp in his mouth, clear annoyance shaping his tongue enough for the word to have a bite to it.

You wince. He never used to be like this. Gojo has been in a state of perpetual mirth—and one could argue levity—for the entirety of your friendship, never taking anything seriously and always looking for opportunities to poke fun at you to half-jokingly glorify himself. His expression has always been infectiously positive—never molded into anything hard or serious.

But, lately, everything you thought you knew about Gojo Satoru has faded away into your memories. He never seeks out your presence anymore, which is polar opposite from your high school days, when he would follow you around and pester you until you’d hang out with him. You actually used to get annoyed at this behavior, but you’re sorely missing it now.

You feel like you know nothing about him these days, only hearing tidbits here and there from your mutual friend Shoko. It stings to know that he obviously talks to her, and quite often at that, seeing she always has new details to spill every other day.

It doesn’t make sense to you: him and Shoko were never particularly close, definitely not nearly as close as you and Gojo were. In fact, she thought of him as particularly annoying in high school, and often swore to you that she would cut all contact with him once they graduated.

Back then, you had rolled your eyes at her antics, never believing that anybody could cut Gojo out of their life, seeing as he simply wouldn’t let them. But how else could you describe what he seems to be doing to you?

You bite your lip nervously. “Satoru? Is there something wrong?”

“Not particularly,” He says with a forced smile that’s screaming for you to shut up. You pretend like it’s not the most disingenuous smile you’ve ever seen smeared on his face.

“Are you sure?” You probe. “I mean…what’s been going on with you these days? We haven’t seen each other in forever, and you don’t seem yourself.”

“Are you sure?”

His lips are quirked up, as they perpetually are, but it’s different this time. It’s mocking. A mocking smirk that’s telling you to face reality. Do you really know him anymore?

You pause in your steps, studying his expression. You can’t see his eyes, but you wish you could. He’s hard to read with that blindfold concealing those powerful eyes of his, but it never used to be a problem. It hurts that you’re now struggling to gauge him when your emotions used to feel like one.

Evidently, you can’t answer his question. Not that he seems to care.

“I’ve really got to get going. Students to teach, curses to kill, all that,” He announces, tone low and apathetic. Bored. “See ya.”

Your breath flutters in your throat as you try to bid him goodbye. You choke on your words and only end up tentatively raising a hand. Before you can wave, his form disappears. A gust of wind greets you in lieu of a proper goodbye.

You stay where you are for a few shocked moments, not even registering the hot tears that leak from the eyes he avoided.

You wander aimlessly around campus for a while, the whole interaction replaying in your head several times over. His “Are you sure?” needles its way into your brain even when you push it away, the words hitting where it hurts every time.

Your feet find themselves taking you to an empty break room – ah, this is the one that has your favorite flavor of tea. You turn the kettle on, then eagerly dig through the tea stash. You file through the individual packets quickly and thoroughly, but to no avail. It’s gone.

With a sigh, you grab a random tea bag and throw it into your mug. Frustrated, you roughly begin pouring the now-boiled water into the mug, but it doesn’t seem that was a good idea. Your hand slips for just a split second, but a sizable splash of boiling water still manages to singe your non-dominant hand. A stream of expletives leaves your mouth, and you instantly cradle your hand to your heart.

More tears appear. At least you have an excuse this time—it fucking hurts.

You trudge to the clinic, feeling quite silly, but also seeking some much-needed relief. And you’re not exactly imagining painkillers or an ice pack—no, there’s something else. Someone else.

You hesitantly knock on the door. You feel stupid, but you really have to see her.

You crack a smile at the creak of the door. Your friend and co-worker Shoko strides out with an air of confidence you wish you held.

“What happened?” She asks calmly, eyes lazily taking in your form.

“Spilled some water from the kettle,” You say lamely. “It hurts.”

That doesn’t really constitute a visit to one of the only reverse-cursed technique users in the school, and you know it. So does she.

“Mmhm,” She raises her eyebrows. “Well, come on in.”

You shuffle in a little sheepishly, not able to meet Shoko’s eyes. Now that you’re here, you start to feel unsure about your own motive—do you really want to discuss this? Won’t it just be embarrassing more than anything else?

You stall a little in your steps as the negative thoughts invade your head. You’re startled to attention by a poke to your side—when you look up, Shoko’s playful smirk fills your vision.

“Come on over to the sink and we’ll put that under some cool running water,” She says, gesturing to your reddened arm.

You cock your head, looking between her and the sink skeptically, “No ice?”

She shakes her head, sticking her tongue out at you a bit, “Nope! Running water for burns.”

You hold up your hands in defeat, smiling, “Whatever Doctor Shoko says.”

“And I do,” She says cheekily. “So get under that water!”

“Aye-aye,” You say with a salute.

She groans, “Ugh. You guys are so annoyingly similar. Hang on a sec, I gotta grab something.”

She turns away before she can see the way your expression drops. The smile is stolen from your face, leaving behind saddened eyes and a slight frown. There’s only one possible person she could be talking about.

You sigh and turn on the faucet—your disheartened sigh morphs into one of great relief as the cold water soothes your burn.

“That better?” Shoko asks upon her return.

You nod, a small smile coming back, “Yeah, thanks Shoko.”

“Is there something else wrong?” She asks, then shakes her head. “No, scratch that. What’s actually wrong?”

You take a deep breath. How are you going to broach this subject? You wait several moments, pondering your exact next words.

“Do you think Gojo is okay?” You finally ask your long-time friend, words coming out almost cautiously.

She eyes you funnily, “Why are you asking me? As if he doesn’t chase you around the school to blab on about himself.”

You smile, but it’s tainted by bitterness.

“Shoko…Gojo hasn’t talked to me for two months,” You admit quietly. “I don’t know what’s going on.”

She stops.

“What?”

You hate hearing the confusion in her voice. You hate the pity that soon fills her eyes.

“He seriously hasn’t,” You affirm, sighing. “I don’t know what I did, or if I did anything, or…or what. I just, I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Have you tried talking to him about it?”

You sigh. “Of course I have, but he didn’t seem to take my concerns seriously. Or consider them at all. It just seemed like he wanted me to shut up and leave him alone.”

Shoko looks at you curiously, lips quirking as if she has something to say, but no words come out. Is she holding something back?

You take a deep breath, willing the horrible emotion that squeezes your throat away. You look out the window to distract yourself, watching the branches of a sakura sapling swaying in the wind. It looks alone and lost, battered by the relentless wind.

“What’s he been like recently with you?” You finally ask, your gaze still on the tree.

“Normal,” Shoko says. “Annoying as ever. Noisy as ever.”

A cluster of pink petals is ripped from a branch, swirling hopelessly to the ground. When they settle on the ground, you look back to your friend.

“He’s really the same?” You ask weakly.

“Unfortunately,” She says wryly. “Besides, why do you care? We’ve both been trying to get him off our backs since waaay long ago. Sounds like a blessing in disguise.”

“Ah, that’s true,” You admit with a weak chuckle, trying to ignore the way your heart throbs painfully. “But he’s also our friend.”

“Since when? More like a thorn in my side. Maybe he finally got the message,” Shoko smirks. “You should give me instructions for that. I’d have a lot better quality of life, you know.”

You know she’s just joking around with you, but she’s truly just rubbing salt in your wound. Not very ethical for a doctor, even if unintentional.

“Yeah,” You laugh, but it’s an empty sound. “Well, I guess I’ll get going then. Hopefully your next patient gives you an easier time.”

Shoko jokes, “Yeah, this has been my toughest job all week. You fiend.”

Your head is filled with so many questions, all of them growing louder as you walk away from your friend. Your friend who you thought would sympathize with you, but only ended up making you feel worse in the end is acting suspicious. It’s not like you’ve ever wanted to actually cut ties with Gojo, even when he used to pull pranks on you in high school. You craved for a strong friendship with him throughout all his shenanigans.

Why is Shoko acting like you hate Gojo, and what isn’t she telling you?

Before you reach the door, you decide you need to know. You stop abruptly in your tracks.

“Ieiri, you’re not telling me something,” You say softly, not looking back. “Why?”

Shoko sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose, “You don’t miss anything, do you?”

You say nothing. The door in front of you is tempting—it’s your way out of knowing the truth. Do you really want to know?

You wait tensely for a few seconds, the silence causing nerves to bubble up in your stomach. But when Shoko begins to speak, they go don’t go away.

“He hasn’t really been acting strange around me, but he’s constantly on his phone. Like always. Whenever he comes to chat, he immediately tunes me out and starts texting or loudly takes a call,” She snorts, huffing out an exasperated sigh. “I thought he was just bored and trying to make me feel disrespected as a sort of cruel joke, but I think it’s something else. I think…I think Gojo is interested in someone.”

Your head whips around, disbelief clear in your features. Interested in someone?

“Maybe that’s why he’s been acting weird. I always thought he was crazy for you, so it didn’t cross my mind until now.”

“Crazy for me?” You immediately echo back, voice hollow and confused.

Shoko shakes her head at you, “C’mon, you can’t be that oblivious. He always followed you around like a lost puppy in high school. He never said anything to me about it, but I really thought he would confess any day for years.”

“He did that to everyone…” You shake your head. “You say yourself he bugged you so much.”

She rolls her eyes. “Trust me, it was different.”

Your heart pounds in your chest. Your vision becomes foggy at the edges, reality fizzling out.

“Why didn’t you want to tell me?” You ask. “It’s not like that matters.”

You try to appear uncaring, yet it was a fight to get those words out.

“You’re a sensitive person. ‘Didn’t know how you’d react since Gojo always seemed to chase after your attention, exclusively. But it’s not like it was the other way around—should have known it wasn’t a big deal. It’s not. Guess he’s just growing up.”

“Yeah,” You agree faintly, voice devoid of emotion. Reality is slipping through your numb fingers, the information turning your world into a nightmare. You should have opened the door and ran when you had the chance.

“It’s not,” You say with a saccharine smile, one so sickly sweet that Shoko gets chills. That’s not your usual smile—not one that Shoko has ever seen you wear. “Of course it’s not.”

When you turn on your heel and rush out of her infirmary, Shoko reaches out a hand and her lips part to call after you. It’s uncharacteristic for her—the cold doctor is rarely sentimental or emotionally affected, but she saw something ghastly in that smile of yours.

The slam of the door answers her call. The truth, now imparted, comes to bite her in the ass.

It’s been a few days. You’ve been moping around the school, around your students—trying to cope with the information that you don’t even know is true. You see him across campus sometimes; he’s so easily spotted with his translucent hair and tall frame. Every time, he’s facing away from you, and your eyes fall on the back of his head. Your chest always tightens and you end up turning away, too.

You have ignored the feelings stirring in your chest, not willing to admit something that clearly isn’t reciprocated. It has been working, you suppose, since you haven’t cracked under the mental weight of possibly being in lo—

No, you can’t even think that.

Everything has been as okay as it can. It’s not until you attempt to visit Shoko again to try sort out your feelings, however, that things take a turn for the worse.

Your hand is raised as you prepare to knock on the infirmary door, but you hesitate once you hear muffled voices.

“I don’t know…I didn’t expect it at all.”

That’s Gojo’s voice. That low but self-assured tone is undeniably his.

“Expect what?” Shoko asks, sounding bored.

His reply is so soft that it passes by as just a hiss of air, so quiet that you physically startle at Shoko’s loud reaction.

“No! What? I can’t believe that!” She shouts, laughter quickly following her exclamation.

You shouldn’t be listening—you hadn’t planned to eavesdrop on your two best friends, but for some reason your ear seeks out the wall, as if magnetized.

The next three words uttered still your heart.

“Utahime kissed me,” Gojo admits quietly.

You feel like you can’t breathe. Utahime, who has always despised Gojo even beyond Shoko’s extent. Utahime, who once cried into your chest after Gojo was harsh with her at an exchange event. Utahime, who always persisted that you and Gojo were into each other during high school.

Shoko’s unbelieving chuckle cuts through your thoughts.

Shoko laughs, “Oh, yeah, okay, as if I’d ever believe that.”

There’s silence. Your heart drops at the lack of response—no teasing refute, no playful faux playboy attitude.

Shoko absorbs his unusual silence, finally interpreting his words for what they are.

She gasps loudly, spluttering, “Oh my God, you’re being serious. What?! There’s no way…”

Gojo’s voice is even and deep. “I didn’t lie. She just did it out of nowhere. I didn’t even know how to react, to be honest.”

“So you just stood there?” Shoko snorts, trying to keep up her usual sarcastic persona. “God, you’re insufferable all the way around.”

“I kissed her back,�� He breathes out, voice almost weak.

Another long moment of silence ensues. You hold your breath, terrified that your panicked pants will alert them of your presence.

Shoko recovers quickly this time.

“Still insufferable,” She sighs, and you can imagine her shaking her head. “So what now? You like her or something? This is so random.”

“I…I don’t know,” He admits quietly. “I never thought she’d do that, it took me by surprise. I…I think I liked it?”

Your heart shatters. You clutch a hand to your mouth, gagging yourself, forcing back the pained gasp that’s threatening to leave your lips.

“Oh, is that so?” Shoko says drily, but the usual edge to her voice is absent. You can only imagine her expression: contorted with pity and pain, desperately trying to maintain her poker face.

“Yeah,” Gojo reaffirms. “It was nice.”

There’s silence for a few seconds as Shoko takes it all in. Then, “Is she who you’ve always been calling and texting when I’m talking to you? You’re an ass for that, by the way.”

Gojo exhales out a sardonic sniff, “You’re spot on.”

Why are you still listening? You should leave. You shouldn’t be hearing this. Pain blooms in your chest, as if thorns became lodged between your ribs.

“What about (Y/N)?”

You freeze, eyes bulging out of your head.

Gojo sighs, sounding annoyed, “What do you mean?”

“I’m not dumb, Satoru. There was something going on during high school and frankly in the past few years as well. Are you going to deny it?”

He scoffs, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Shoko. It was never like that.”

You feel like you’re going to be sick. You shouldn’t—there’s no possible way you’re actually in love with Gojo Satoru, is there?

Fuck. The thought you’ve been trying to avoid all this time has finally firmly inserted itself into your head.

You take off swiftly and immediately, and your footfalls are as light as you can possibly manage. If either of them knew you were here, you wouldn’t be able to handle the shame.

Gojo and Shoko are none the wiser to the immoral action that took place just beyond the door—so when Shoko is ready to clock out and opens the door, the presence of a school ID on the ground is nearly missed. She feels something strange crunch underneath her foot and steps away and glances at the foreign object.

You left in such a hurry that your ID flopped out of your pocket. It lays on the ground, your smiling face staring up at Shoko, who looks on in horror. She immediately knows that you heard everything. She quickly steps back onto your ID, concealing your identity with her foot.

With all the sight of his six eyes, Gojo somehow completely missed Shoko’s strategic maneuvers to erase traces of your presence. He whistles nonchalantly, not having a care in the world, apparently.

In contrast, Shoko’s mind is racing. Her eyes roam around the courtyard, searching for your form. She feels rooted to the spot—will she reveal you if she steps away? She almost forgets that she’s not alone.

“You looking for someone?” Gojo asks.

Shoko stiffens, but forces herself to relax and appear nonchalant. “Ah, I was just wondering if…if (Y/N) would still be around.”

Gojo frowns. “Hm. Not sure. Don’t they usually go home right after they get off?”

“Lately, they’ve been staying back to do paperwork,” She sighs. “Masamichi has really giving them too many missions…How come you don’t know that?”

“Haven’t had the chance to catch up, I guess,” Gojo says evasively, then quickly changes the subject. “Besides, aren’t you the same way? You coming or not? I’ve got better things to do.”

He waves his cell phone around playfully, a smirk widening across his features.

Shoko rolls her eyes, “Go ahead. I’m just going to wait here a bit and see if I can text them and get them over here.”

She hesitates for a second before adding, “Actually, why don’t you wait a sec? We haven’t all seen each other in a bit.”

Gojo immediately stiffens. He scratches the back of his head and says, “Ah, I’m actually sort of on a time crunch. Maybe next time.”

What a lie. Shoko thinks, eyes narrowing subconsciously. What is he up to?

As he trails off into the distance, the gears in Shoko’s head continue to turn. He always, always teleports home after work finishes. So why is he slowly walking around campus, head turning this way and that way as if searching?

And you! Why were you there? Why were you so affected? What is going on in your head—or rather, your heart?

Something strange is going on with her two friends and Shoko is determined to find out what.