( He finds his softest t-shirt by touch alone, doesn't think to put on the light. )
That's because your legs are freakishly long. ( Without heat and despite the fact that they're similar heights. He comes back to hand over the shirt, taking Gojo's school jacket to hang it neatly on his nearby chair. ) Teleporting's cool when you're not tired enough to forget a limb, ah Satoru.
( He has to fight the urge to sweep white hair out of the other boy's eyes, instead he reaches out to take his sunglasses and fold them carefully up, put them safely aside. )
[ there it is again, that stupid squeezing ache in his chest. and just because suguru reaches out to carefully take the sunglasses off his face -- like he still knows that he's one of the only people allowed to touch them, like maybe the distance between them was really nothing after all. (just the summer heat.) ]
Stop fussing, mom. [ softly, voice laden with fondness. reaching out to tug at suguru's shirt, a silent demand for him to get back in bed already. ] Promise all my freakishly-sized limbs are still firmly stuck to me.
I'm letting those freakishly long limbs into my bed.
( Still, he hesitates. Crosses his arms over his chest as though to hold himself in place. )
I could take the floor.
( And then, aware that it's strange, aware that it's new, all in a rush. ) You're tired. You sound tired. And I haven't been sleeping well. I don't want to keep you up if you could get some actual rest before they send you out on another mission -. ( An odd note creeps in, frustrated. He takes a breath, tries to settle himself. ) I don't mind.
[ oh. there it is again. that stupid distance, the feeling that he and suguru are standing on either side of a gap that keeps widening inch by inch.
there's a part of him, some kneejerk instinct, that wants to pull away from it so he doesn't have to look at it more closely than this. (because satoru was supposed to be one half of the strongest, because he told suguru to go on ahead and let him handle the sorcerer killer, and --)
but the larger part of him is just desperate not to lose this, and that's what makes him start shaking his head before suguru even finishes speaking. ] Don't --
[ stumbling over it, chewing on the inside of his cheek. ] ... we don't have to talk or anything. You can go back to sleep, if you want. I just --
[ the words stick to the back of his throat again; he doesn't know how to put any of this into words. ]
( The exhaustion washes over him then, blinking into the dark. Gojo is a blurry shadow and Geto cannot possibly know what his face is doing, and yet something twinges either way. )
Okay.
( Okay, what? Gojo said don't and he doesn't even know what that means, but he feels ill with fear and the room is close and dark. ) Get in, move over.
( Does he sound frantic? Maybe. He's climbing into bed without really giving Gojo much time to do as he's demanded, limbs knocking together, hands yanking the blankets up and over them like something terrible might happen if it isn't immediate. Maybe something might. He ends up on his side facing the other boy, eyes wide in the dark and no better sight for it. That's fine. He's fine. They're both fine. )
If I keep you up you have to tell me. All right? I don't want to make it worse.
[ it happens almost too quickly for satoru to even be relieved -- there's just that awful feeling of distance, and then suddenly suguru is crowding into his space so fast that it nearly bowls satoru over. it's something of a scramble to wriggle back in time to make space for him, tugging the borrowed t-shirt over his head just in time for suguru to yank the blankets up over both of them.
and then --
that.
satoru's brow knits at the sound of the words, the idea that any sliver of suguru in his proximity could be anything but an immediate improvement. ] ... not gonna happen. Being around you is the only thing that makes stuff better, sometimes.
[ and he wriggles himself a little closer, letting their knees bump under the blankets, reaching out to twine the other boy's bangs around two of his fingers. ] Suguru. You sure you're okay?
He almost laughs, swallows it down audibly instead. Gojo touches him though, their knees bumping, fingers playing with a lock of his hair, and he thinks about how hard it is to pretend. He thought he was doing it for the best, that he might have become something more like an awful weight, an anchor unasked for. He doesn't quite know what to do when it's asked outright. )
I'm -. ( His voice quietens, fingers sliding across the sheets to press against Gojo's sternum. ) I don't know.
( It feels a little like a bloodletting, his fingers flattening until his entire palm can be pressed to where the sword went through. Beneath his touch he can feel heat. He's here, he's real, he's alive. His words drop to a whisper, low like a confession though somehow strangely steady. )
Actually, I think there's something wrong with me. ( The same hand slides higher, up to where he can feel a heartbeat. ) Satoru, I don't really know what to do.
[ it's the first time anyone's touched him since everything that happens. the last thing to reach him had been the spear the sorcerer killed used to cut him down; keeping infinity up has become an ingrained habit ever since, but that's never been an obstacle for suguru, has it?
he breathes. in and then out, so focused on that simple point of contact that it takes him a long minute to process the rest of the words. but once he does, his brow knits as he lets the sound of them settle, and -- ]
Okay. [ leaning into that hand pressed against his heartbeat, brushing the other boy's hair back away from his face. ] Then we'll figure it out.
[ together. you and me. the way they always do -- the way they always did. ] What is it? Somethin' with your technique?
( It comes hesitantly, haltingly. His voice is barely a whisper, but it's late and just the two of them so it feels better for the quiet. Geto chews on his bottom lip and tries to figure out how he might explain it, the emptiness, the gnawing gaps where surety had once sat. He doesn't want his friend to be disappointed in him. He doesn't want him to be disgusted. )
I don't know. Maybe? ( Is it? He's been swallowing filth and expecting himself to be okay with it for years now. Could it be connected? ) Does it feel fair, Satoru? Running yourself ragged for everyone?
... not what satoru was expecting to hear. not because the idea itself is all that shocking, but because suguru's always been so... steady? in his beliefs, in the constellation of moral convictions he's always charting out for satoru, in whatever greater good makes all the day to day bullshit worth it. ]
Not really. [ none of the shame of a confession, just the same honesty suguru always gets. ] I get pissed off about it, sometimes. Especially when I'd rather sleep in, or play a video game, or...
Once again Geto feels stuck inside his own body. Weighed down by the rot of it, imprisoned inside of his bones. He wishes, futilely, that he could crack open his skull just to peer inside and divine his own real feelings. He doesn't know what he wants to say, nor if the things that queue up are the truth. He hates that he can't figure that out. )
Yeah. ( Lamely what he settles on, palm flat against Gojo's chest. ) But we have to, right? That's the point. There's no one else.
[ with a stubborn kind of insistence, leaning close enough to bump their foreheads together like that'll help make sure the words stick. ] People always wanna act like we signed on some kinda dotted line just by being born, y'know? And the geezers up at the top act like they can call the shots just 'cause that's the way it's always been.
I don't care about any of that stuff. [ sure, his view has shifted plenty since he first set foot in tokyo, but the core of it's the same. he likes being a sorcerer. he likes pushing himself to get stronger, discovering new ways to utilize his technique, finding that one-in-a-million opponent that offers up some kind of challenge. ] What do you want, Suguru?
( It's repetitive, it's dumb. He kind of hates it. )
I know what I'm supposed to say. I'm supposed to want to keep going, because it's my duty, because I'm one of the only people who can, and what else is there but doing your very best for the world around you? It's what's expected, isn't it? We have to save people. It doesn't matter what it costs. Anything else is selfish. But -. ( He twitches, like a flinch. It feels sacrilegious to say anything beyond what he has. ) - but I don't want to do it if I have to lose everything to keep going.
( He breathes, the gust of it against Gojo's cheek. The truth sits there between them, and Geto keeps his eyes closed. )
He told me you were dead. The sorcerer killer. He told me he killed you.
that's all it takes to bring it back -- the white noise of applause all around him, the weight of amanai's corpse in his arms, the detached certainty of connecting the fact that suguru isn't here with the knowledge that suguru would've never left her alone. ]
... yeah. [ and for once, his voice is small. ] When I found her, I --
I thought you were gone. And I -- [ he stumbles over it. not at the thought of confessing it to suguru, but at the idea that saying them aloud might turn that narrow brush into something real. ] ... it felt like nothing mattered anymore.
I thought about killing them. Everyone in that room. [ with a detached sort of unselfconsciousness, the way someone else might describe running an errand. ] But I couldn't even decide. It felt like they deserved to die, but it didn't feel like them dying would fix anything, and --
None of it meant anything if it meant I was stuck in a world without you in it, y'know?
(It didn't feel like them dying would fix anything.
It scratches something in his brain, some unthought idea, some terrible conjecture. Geto shies away from it almost immediately, fixes his attention on Gojo instead, on the way his voice sounds, on how terrible it is. He doesn't even think before he's drawing him closer, wrapping the pair of them up until they're entangled under the blankets, Geto's chin on top of his skull, and a hand splayed against his spine, knees knocking. )
I told her we'd save her. ( His pulse flutters sickly. ) And he shot her. But even then it didn't feel like the worst thing, you know? Because I didn't understand. How he was there. It wasn't until he said that you -. ( He thinks he's shaking, buries his hands against his friend to try and soothe some of it out. ) - all I kept thinking was that it wasn't fair. Why was it us? Why is it always just us?
( He presses his face into snowy-white hair, his next words coming mumbled. )
I don't want you to die for anyone else, Satoru. I don't want your life wasted on something we don't even have a say in. I don't want to do it anymore.
[ suguru draws him closer, and satoru goes easily. melting against the lines of the other boy's body like it's something he was born knowing how to do, like the trick of fitting together is etched as deep inside him as his cursed technique. he throws an arm over suguru as the other boy curls into him, traces his fingertips up and down the broad plane of his back. ]
Okay. [ like it's easy, because it is. choosing suguru is the easiest thing in the world. ] Then we're not doing it.
[ having (freakishly) long arms comes with all kinds of benefits! like the way he can lean just a little and swat at the place suguru keeps his phone plugged in and charging on the desk next to his bed. then he's dragging it closer, unlocking it, squinting when the brightness of the screen washes over him, and tapping out something rapidly before suguru even gets the chance to protest.
after that? powering it off and tossing it haphazardly over his shoulder in the general direction of the bed. ] There. We're both off for the rest of the week. Won't kill 'em to sort out their own problems for a few days.
( Immediately he tries to scramble for it, but they're all entwined together and his heart isn't exactly in it. Instead he sinks back into the sheets, limbs heavy, voice mystified. ) I don't think we're allowed to do that, Satoru.
( It doesn't fix the problem anyway. Someone else has to take the load, someone else has to stand in his place. He just wishes it were simpler. He wishes he weren't afraid. There's something coming for him and he doesn't exactly know how to stand it down. )
Why not? [ with a snort, rubbing his cheek against the worn-soft material of suguru's shirt. ] What're they gonna do, lecture us?
[ ... he's also glossing over that last question, because if he spells out exactly how rude the text he just sent from suguru's phone was, it'll probably kick off a wrestling match for the phone. ]
Hey. [ bumping his forehead into suguru's shoulder. ] If Amanai told us that she didn't want to be the Star Plasma Vessel, would you have told her she had to? [ it's not really a question when he already knows the answer. ] Why's it only different when it comes to you?
( Small, and a little lost. He doesn't quite like remembering the hope on her face. ) She changed her mind. I told her we'd talked about it. We were so close to just turning around, Satoru. To getting out of there. But it is different. If I don't fight then they'll make you pick up my share of it, and that isn't fair either. You're exhausted, and we barely see each other now, and I keep telling myself it's fine because at least you're alive, and I'm helping. What if I didn't help? You're not actually a god.
( He lifts a hand, runs fingers through white hair. It isn't a criticism. )
there's a part of satoru that wishes he could put those words back, to make it so that he never heard them, because knowing hurts. it's a creature that digs into him with claws and teeth, trying to claw under the cage of his ribs to the most tender places below.
she didn't want to. they were going to turn around.
but they didn't, they couldn't, because satoru couldn't stop the sorcerer killer from getting through. and that's the root cause of all of this, right? suguru can't trust him enough to rest when he needs to and let satoru pick up the slack, because satoru let him down when it counted -- ]
I miss you too. [ and even muffled into the other boy's shoulder, there's no hiding the way his voice comes out thick and cracking. ]
He wishes they were still in Okinawa, back before all of this started, where things were simple and sweet and life still felt kind. He feels like he's become something that is insurmountable, a terrible, tragic burden that Gojo has to trail behind him. He feels like a failure. He shouldn't be letting himself take comfort in sharing a bed, he shouldn't be allowed to have something good.
So he stares at the shadows in his room and tries to think, thoughts all thorny and muddled up. )
Maybe they could let us take missions together again. Maybe that would work.
[ get it together. satoru's got to get it together.
if he wants to keep up with suguru, if he still wants them to be the strongest together, he's got to get a grip on it. how can suguru depend on him if something like this is enough to make him crumble?
don't think about it. don't think about amanai. don't think about we were so close to just turning around. don't think about the first bite of the inverted spear of heaven into the tender skin of his throat. don't think about it. don't think.
focus on getting strong, faster, sharper, smarter. that's --
but the last bit makes him jerk, startled enough to pull his head away from suguru's shoulder so that he can look directly at him. forgetting the prickling burn that means his eyes will be red-rimmed from tears he's refusing to cry, just -- ]
( Theres something about Gojo's voice, something small and unlike him, sharp enough of a difference that Geto reaches for him, palm warm against his face. )
If I have to fight then I want to fight with you. I know I'm letting you down, but I'll find a way. I don't want you to have to do it all alone, Satoru, that isn't fair. So I'll get over it, I promise. I just --. I just ...
( Nerves lick up his spine, sink their teeth in. )
No! [ ack. wait. shaking his head, desperation clawing up the back of his throat. ] I mean, no, obviously I want to take missions with you. Doing it alone sucks compared to what it's like when we're together, I just --
[ swallowing. hard. eyes flickering away from suguru's face, something as unfamiliar as shame roiling in his stomach. ] ... I messed up. I told you I had it covered, and I --
[ his fingers curl in the material of suguru's shirt, a tremor creeping up his spine. ] I thought --
Wait, no. You didn't. You did everything you could have. You were running on fumes, Satoru, and we both thought it was safe. It should have been. ( His throat clicks as he swallows the harsh lump in it, holding on like it's a lifeline. ) We had to do everything on our own. We always have to. And you were -. You almost -.
( He takes a breath, shaky. )
I know everyone else treats you like you're indestructible, but you're seventeen. They just let you do all the work and they hide, and I hate it. ( Genuine anger filters through. ) I don't want them to use you all up. I wish I could figure a way out.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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That's because your legs are freakishly long. ( Without heat and despite the fact that they're similar heights. He comes back to hand over the shirt, taking Gojo's school jacket to hang it neatly on his nearby chair. ) Teleporting's cool when you're not tired enough to forget a limb, ah Satoru.
( He has to fight the urge to sweep white hair out of the other boy's eyes, instead he reaches out to take his sunglasses and fold them carefully up, put them safely aside. )
Do you need anything else?
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Stop fussing, mom. [ softly, voice laden with fondness. reaching out to tug at suguru's shirt, a silent demand for him to get back in bed already. ] Promise all my freakishly-sized limbs are still firmly stuck to me.
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( Still, he hesitates. Crosses his arms over his chest as though to hold himself in place. )
I could take the floor.
( And then, aware that it's strange, aware that it's new, all in a rush. ) You're tired. You sound tired. And I haven't been sleeping well. I don't want to keep you up if you could get some actual rest before they send you out on another mission -. ( An odd note creeps in, frustrated. He takes a breath, tries to settle himself. ) I don't mind.
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there's a part of him, some kneejerk instinct, that wants to pull away from it so he doesn't have to look at it more closely than this. (because satoru was supposed to be one half of the strongest, because he told suguru to go on ahead and let him handle the sorcerer killer, and --)
but the larger part of him is just desperate not to lose this, and that's what makes him start shaking his head before suguru even finishes speaking. ] Don't --
[ stumbling over it, chewing on the inside of his cheek. ] ... we don't have to talk or anything. You can go back to sleep, if you want. I just --
[ the words stick to the back of his throat again; he doesn't know how to put any of this into words. ]
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Okay.
( Okay, what? Gojo said don't and he doesn't even know what that means, but he feels ill with fear and the room is close and dark. ) Get in, move over.
( Does he sound frantic? Maybe. He's climbing into bed without really giving Gojo much time to do as he's demanded, limbs knocking together, hands yanking the blankets up and over them like something terrible might happen if it isn't immediate. Maybe something might. He ends up on his side facing the other boy, eyes wide in the dark and no better sight for it. That's fine. He's fine. They're both fine. )
If I keep you up you have to tell me. All right? I don't want to make it worse.
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and then --
that.
satoru's brow knits at the sound of the words, the idea that any sliver of suguru in his proximity could be anything but an immediate improvement. ] ... not gonna happen. Being around you is the only thing that makes stuff better, sometimes.
[ and he wriggles himself a little closer, letting their knees bump under the blankets, reaching out to twine the other boy's bangs around two of his fingers. ] Suguru. You sure you're okay?
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He almost laughs, swallows it down audibly instead. Gojo touches him though, their knees bumping, fingers playing with a lock of his hair, and he thinks about how hard it is to pretend. He thought he was doing it for the best, that he might have become something more like an awful weight, an anchor unasked for. He doesn't quite know what to do when it's asked outright. )
I'm -. ( His voice quietens, fingers sliding across the sheets to press against Gojo's sternum. ) I don't know.
( It feels a little like a bloodletting, his fingers flattening until his entire palm can be pressed to where the sword went through. Beneath his touch he can feel heat. He's here, he's real, he's alive. His words drop to a whisper, low like a confession though somehow strangely steady. )
Actually, I think there's something wrong with me. ( The same hand slides higher, up to where he can feel a heartbeat. ) Satoru, I don't really know what to do.
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he breathes. in and then out, so focused on that simple point of contact that it takes him a long minute to process the rest of the words. but once he does, his brow knits as he lets the sound of them settle, and -- ]
Okay. [ leaning into that hand pressed against his heartbeat, brushing the other boy's hair back away from his face. ] Then we'll figure it out.
[ together. you and me. the way they always do -- the way they always did. ] What is it? Somethin' with your technique?
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( It comes hesitantly, haltingly. His voice is barely a whisper, but it's late and just the two of them so it feels better for the quiet. Geto chews on his bottom lip and tries to figure out how he might explain it, the emptiness, the gnawing gaps where surety had once sat. He doesn't want his friend to be disappointed in him. He doesn't want him to be disgusted. )
I don't know. Maybe? ( Is it? He's been swallowing filth and expecting himself to be okay with it for years now. Could it be connected? ) Does it feel fair, Satoru? Running yourself ragged for everyone?
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... not what satoru was expecting to hear. not because the idea itself is all that shocking, but because suguru's always been so... steady? in his beliefs, in the constellation of moral convictions he's always charting out for satoru, in whatever greater good makes all the day to day bullshit worth it. ]
Not really. [ none of the shame of a confession, just the same honesty suguru always gets. ] I get pissed off about it, sometimes. Especially when I'd rather sleep in, or play a video game, or...
... y'know, hang out with you.
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It is also not entirely helpful.
Once again Geto feels stuck inside his own body. Weighed down by the rot of it, imprisoned inside of his bones. He wishes, futilely, that he could crack open his skull just to peer inside and divine his own real feelings. He doesn't know what he wants to say, nor if the things that queue up are the truth. He hates that he can't figure that out. )
Yeah. ( Lamely what he settles on, palm flat against Gojo's chest. ) But we have to, right? That's the point. There's no one else.
( Oh, he wants to cry. He can feel it. )
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[ with a stubborn kind of insistence, leaning close enough to bump their foreheads together like that'll help make sure the words stick. ] People always wanna act like we signed on some kinda dotted line just by being born, y'know? And the geezers up at the top act like they can call the shots just 'cause that's the way it's always been.
I don't care about any of that stuff. [ sure, his view has shifted plenty since he first set foot in tokyo, but the core of it's the same. he likes being a sorcerer. he likes pushing himself to get stronger, discovering new ways to utilize his technique, finding that one-in-a-million opponent that offers up some kind of challenge. ] What do you want, Suguru?
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I don't know.
( It's repetitive, it's dumb. He kind of hates it. )
I know what I'm supposed to say. I'm supposed to want to keep going, because it's my duty, because I'm one of the only people who can, and what else is there but doing your very best for the world around you? It's what's expected, isn't it? We have to save people. It doesn't matter what it costs. Anything else is selfish. But -. ( He twitches, like a flinch. It feels sacrilegious to say anything beyond what he has. ) - but I don't want to do it if I have to lose everything to keep going.
( He breathes, the gust of it against Gojo's cheek. The truth sits there between them, and Geto keeps his eyes closed. )
He told me you were dead. The sorcerer killer. He told me he killed you.
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he told me you were dead.
he told me he killed you.
that's all it takes to bring it back -- the white noise of applause all around him, the weight of amanai's corpse in his arms, the detached certainty of connecting the fact that suguru isn't here with the knowledge that suguru would've never left her alone. ]
... yeah. [ and for once, his voice is small. ] When I found her, I --
I thought you were gone. And I -- [ he stumbles over it. not at the thought of confessing it to suguru, but at the idea that saying them aloud might turn that narrow brush into something real. ] ... it felt like nothing mattered anymore.
I thought about killing them. Everyone in that room. [ with a detached sort of unselfconsciousness, the way someone else might describe running an errand. ] But I couldn't even decide. It felt like they deserved to die, but it didn't feel like them dying would fix anything, and --
None of it meant anything if it meant I was stuck in a world without you in it, y'know?
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It scratches something in his brain, some unthought idea, some terrible conjecture. Geto shies away from it almost immediately, fixes his attention on Gojo instead, on the way his voice sounds, on how terrible it is. He doesn't even think before he's drawing him closer, wrapping the pair of them up until they're entangled under the blankets, Geto's chin on top of his skull, and a hand splayed against his spine, knees knocking. )
I told her we'd save her. ( His pulse flutters sickly. ) And he shot her. But even then it didn't feel like the worst thing, you know? Because I didn't understand. How he was there. It wasn't until he said that you -. ( He thinks he's shaking, buries his hands against his friend to try and soothe some of it out. ) - all I kept thinking was that it wasn't fair. Why was it us? Why is it always just us?
( He presses his face into snowy-white hair, his next words coming mumbled. )
I don't want you to die for anyone else, Satoru. I don't want your life wasted on something we don't even have a say in. I don't want to do it anymore.
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Okay. [ like it's easy, because it is. choosing suguru is the easiest thing in the world. ] Then we're not doing it.
[ having (freakishly) long arms comes with all kinds of benefits! like the way he can lean just a little and swat at the place suguru keeps his phone plugged in and charging on the desk next to his bed. then he's dragging it closer, unlocking it, squinting when the brightness of the screen washes over him, and tapping out something rapidly before suguru even gets the chance to protest.
after that? powering it off and tossing it haphazardly over his shoulder in the general direction of the bed. ] There. We're both off for the rest of the week. Won't kill 'em to sort out their own problems for a few days.
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( Immediately he tries to scramble for it, but they're all entwined together and his heart isn't exactly in it. Instead he sinks back into the sheets, limbs heavy, voice mystified. ) I don't think we're allowed to do that, Satoru.
( It doesn't fix the problem anyway. Someone else has to take the load, someone else has to stand in his place. He just wishes it were simpler. He wishes he weren't afraid. There's something coming for him and he doesn't exactly know how to stand it down. )
What did you say?
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[ ... he's also glossing over that last question, because if he spells out exactly how rude the text he just sent from suguru's phone was, it'll probably kick off a wrestling match for the phone. ]
Hey. [ bumping his forehead into suguru's shoulder. ] If Amanai told us that she didn't want to be the Star Plasma Vessel, would you have told her she had to? [ it's not really a question when he already knows the answer. ] Why's it only different when it comes to you?
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( Small, and a little lost. He doesn't quite like remembering the hope on her face. ) She changed her mind. I told her we'd talked about it. We were so close to just turning around, Satoru. To getting out of there. But it is different. If I don't fight then they'll make you pick up my share of it, and that isn't fair either. You're exhausted, and we barely see each other now, and I keep telling myself it's fine because at least you're alive, and I'm helping. What if I didn't help? You're not actually a god.
( He lifts a hand, runs fingers through white hair. It isn't a criticism. )
I miss you. I miss when it felt simple.
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there's a part of satoru that wishes he could put those words back, to make it so that he never heard them, because knowing hurts. it's a creature that digs into him with claws and teeth, trying to claw under the cage of his ribs to the most tender places below.
she didn't want to. they were going to turn around.
but they didn't, they couldn't, because satoru couldn't stop the sorcerer killer from getting through. and that's the root cause of all of this, right? suguru can't trust him enough to rest when he needs to and let satoru pick up the slack, because satoru let him down when it counted -- ]
I miss you too. [ and even muffled into the other boy's shoulder, there's no hiding the way his voice comes out thick and cracking. ]
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He wishes they were still in Okinawa, back before all of this started, where things were simple and sweet and life still felt kind. He feels like he's become something that is insurmountable, a terrible, tragic burden that Gojo has to trail behind him. He feels like a failure. He shouldn't be letting himself take comfort in sharing a bed, he shouldn't be allowed to have something good.
So he stares at the shadows in his room and tries to think, thoughts all thorny and muddled up. )
Maybe they could let us take missions together again. Maybe that would work.
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if he wants to keep up with suguru, if he still wants them to be the strongest together, he's got to get a grip on it. how can suguru depend on him if something like this is enough to make him crumble?
don't think about it. don't think about amanai. don't think about we were so close to just turning around. don't think about the first bite of the inverted spear of heaven into the tender skin of his throat. don't think about it. don't think.
focus on getting strong, faster, sharper, smarter. that's --
but the last bit makes him jerk, startled enough to pull his head away from suguru's shoulder so that he can look directly at him. forgetting the prickling burn that means his eyes will be red-rimmed from tears he's refusing to cry, just -- ]
You still want to? Take missions together?
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( Theres something about Gojo's voice, something small and unlike him, sharp enough of a difference that Geto reaches for him, palm warm against his face. )
If I have to fight then I want to fight with you. I know I'm letting you down, but I'll find a way. I don't want you to have to do it all alone, Satoru, that isn't fair. So I'll get over it, I promise. I just --. I just ...
( Nerves lick up his spine, sink their teeth in. )
Do you not want to?
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[ swallowing. hard. eyes flickering away from suguru's face, something as unfamiliar as shame roiling in his stomach. ] ... I messed up. I told you I had it covered, and I --
[ his fingers curl in the material of suguru's shirt, a tremor creeping up his spine. ] I thought --
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( His voice goes tight, pinched. )
Wait, no. You didn't. You did everything you could have. You were running on fumes, Satoru, and we both thought it was safe. It should have been. ( His throat clicks as he swallows the harsh lump in it, holding on like it's a lifeline. ) We had to do everything on our own. We always have to. And you were -. You almost -.
( He takes a breath, shaky. )
I know everyone else treats you like you're indestructible, but you're seventeen. They just let you do all the work and they hide, and I hate it. ( Genuine anger filters through. ) I don't want them to use you all up. I wish I could figure a way out.
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