[ mumbled against the loose fabric of getou's shirt, he sighs softly against. each pet of his hair has him humming happily, tension leaking out of his neck and shoulders when getou's fingers brush the short, sheared undercut. ]
That twists something in his chest, a sharp desperate little feeling. Instead of speaking more, he falls silent, fingers sliding to briefly cover Satoru's eyes with the palm of his hand. Let it be easier, let him rest. That's what he's here for, isn't it? To give his old friend the chance for a break. )
[ and - he wants to stay awake, he does. he'd forgo sleep for days to sit and catch up more with suguru. make him laugh, be teased mercilessly like no time has passed at all. pretend, just for a night, this is their life and things are okay. the way they should be.
but he's always felt safest sleeping near getou, even if he's a man most people would be too terrified to let their guard down with, now. it's not long before he's curled up against him, breaths evening out, no trace of infinity anywhere between them.
( Gojo sleeps, Geto lets him sleep, and then when he wakes up again the parting is a little less strange, a little more sweet. Promises are made, plans hatched. He shows up at their appointed meeting time as he says he would, dressed casually again in loose trousers and a t-shirt with some anime character on, hair up in its half bun. He's carrying two drinks, one slightly more neon than the other, and when he sees Gojo on the street he raises it in greeting cheerfully. )
Do you still like to rot your teeth, Satoru? ( A cheerful, boyish greeting. ) I thought you might, so I picked for you. Mimiko likes this one anyway, I think it's grape?
( Ice cold and sweet, his own slightly more bitter. He passes it over anyway, his gaze on Gojo's face and his covered eyes. )
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You're already comfy, it's fine.
( He's busy petting him either way. )
At least for a little while, and then the bed. You want to actually get some good from resting.
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[ mumbled against the loose fabric of getou's shirt, he sighs softly against. each pet of his hair has him humming happily, tension leaking out of his neck and shoulders when getou's fingers brush the short, sheared undercut. ]
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That twists something in his chest, a sharp desperate little feeling. Instead of speaking more, he falls silent, fingers sliding to briefly cover Satoru's eyes with the palm of his hand. Let it be easier, let him rest. That's what he's here for, isn't it? To give his old friend the chance for a break. )
no subject
but he's always felt safest sleeping near getou, even if he's a man most people would be too terrified to let their guard down with, now. it's not long before he's curled up against him, breaths evening out, no trace of infinity anywhere between them.
time skipping ~
Do you still like to rot your teeth, Satoru? ( A cheerful, boyish greeting. ) I thought you might, so I picked for you. Mimiko likes this one anyway, I think it's grape?
( Ice cold and sweet, his own slightly more bitter. He passes it over anyway, his gaze on Gojo's face and his covered eyes. )
How are you?