Chapter Text
A decade ago, if Satoru Gojo had been asked to picture his life at twenty-eight, he most certainly would have described his future as lavish.
He imagined absolute bliss and luxury, with all his wishes accounted for and nothing out of reach. After all, he was the sole heir to his family’s fortune and all the assets that came along with the longstanding Gojo name and legacy.
On top of his generational wealth and security, even before he’d graduated high school, he’d been declared a violin protégé with plans to continue at a prestigious music academy post-graduation. Though the art of violin was a skill passed down through generations of Gojo’s, Satoru was different—he was the best. Years of lessons had culminated in an astonishing talent set to expand seemingly without limits.
All in all, Gojo would have been sure he was on the road to success. His future had been laid out for him long before he ever had a chance to decide otherwise, and he was honestly content with this arrangement. He preferred not having to think about anything other than achieving his goal of being the best in his musical endeavors.
That, however, was all before. Before Toji Fushiguro, that is.
He’d been stupid, honestly. Stupid to think that things would work out with the mysterious character that Toji Fushiguro was when they’d met and throughout their entire relationship. But, Gojo was young, barely twenty-two and he’d been swept up by his charm. With his dark blue eyes, defined arms that were thicker than Gojo’s thighs, and a handsome smirk that tugged on a deep scar from some scuffle years ago. It was all so hot, honestly.
Besides, he’d treated Gojo well in those early years. It was exciting, their relationship and the life that Toji led, was so unlike anything Gojo had experienced in his sheltered childhood, being shuffled around between private tutors and boarding schools. Toji made him feel alive, made him feel loved in a way that he never had before. He was Gojo’s first in so many aspects, carving out a space for himself deep in Gojo’s core.
Perhaps he should have been more suspicious and should have picked up on some of the red flags. There was no meeting of the family, only meeting up at hotels or parties, and Toji’s had a strict emphasis on discretion. But, Gojo was young, he was really young and too stupid and naive to consider that he was in too deep. Blah blah blah.
But suddenly, Toji was bringing up a wife that Gojo had never heard of. Not just a wife, but a dead wife. And not just a dead wife, but two kids that this unnamed, unmentioned woman had left behind in her death—Toji’s kids.
“I don’t know what I’m gonna do, Satoru,” the older man had wept. So, at twenty-three, Gojo dropped out of school, lost his family’s support, and perhaps even worse, lost all the friends he’d made in the last few years as no one understood his decision. At twenty-three, he was married and had two step-kids. Well, hardly even kids, they were practically babies. Megumi had just seen his first birthday and Tsumiki was barely older than three years old.
Any twenty-year-old would be crazy to throw away a full scholarship at a prestigious academy and the heir to a fortune just to be nothing more than practically a housewife.
But when Gojo blew raspberries on Megumi’s tummy and the boy’s eyes lit up with joy, or when Tsumiki learned to identify another letter of the alphabet, Gojo found it hard to imagine another outcome for his life.
Then as life would have it, shit hit the fan again. At twenty-seven, his husband was nowhere to be found and he was being questioned by the police, holding an ice pack to a still bruised eye, bandages wrapped around his chest, and calming down two terrified kids. Everyone—his parents, his friends—had been right, he’d made the wrong decision and now he was paying for it. He was alone again.
It wasn’t like he hadn’t been taking care of the kids since they were in diapers, but he’d never been the main parent, never was the one that was defaulted to when things got rough. Sure, he was all about teasing the kiddos to no end and indulging them in sweets and fun activities. But, he never had to make hard and fast decisions. Well, until now.
To say the least, Gojo’s reality at twenty-eight was far different than he could have ever imagined. Before he even saw thirty, he was a divorced, caretaker of two kids (he couldn’t bring himself to even utter the word “parent”), disgraced heir, and a washed-up protégé.
There were no mansions or foreign villas, no fancy cars. Instead, there was a dingy, two-bedroom apartment, and a used Corolla with a suspicious stain on the passenger seat that just refused to come out no matter how hard he scrubbed at it. He wasn’t performing moonlit concerts around the world, but he snagged a desk job through Nanami that paid the bills and let him pick the kids up from school on time. There were certainly no extravagant parties. The closest Gojo got to that was the birthday parties at totally unsanitary play centers and kiddy casinos, he was sometimes forced to take Tsumiki and Megumi to for their classmates.
No, it wasn’t what Gojo pictured for himself when he envisioned his future at eighteen, but he was close enough to happy that he almost forgot everything he’d lost, or well—given up. Okay, maybe he wasn’t really that close to happy. In fact, whenever Shoko managed to catch him on the phone, she kept saying he was “depressed.” After all, he’d gone through several life-altering events in the last five years, she’d say. Whatever. He wasn’t depressed, he was just a little sad maybe and stuck.
Besides, what did she know? She was a child psychologist, and while he could admit he was immature, he was sure he didn’t fit the criteria of her clientele.
Further, he reminded himself, it was nothing when compared to what Megumi and Tsumiki had lost in their young lives. Their mother died when Megumi was barely a toddler and now their father was locked up, and to make matters worse they were stuck with Gojo, who was barely keeping things afloat. Sometimes it felt like Tsumiki—a second grader, for crying out loud—was more of an adult than he was.
But he was trying. If nothing, he was trying. The kids deserved it, they really did. They’d been forced into this mess and Gojo was determined to make something work, if only for their sake.
It didn’t matter if his future was different from the one he originally planned for, because he was here, standing in the pick-up line outside of his the kid’s elementary school, and any dreams he’d had for himself before were far out of reach and not worth dwelling on.
Like a ray of sunshine pulling him from his depressed reverie, Tsumiki came barreling through the school doors, and ran straight to Gojo, wrapping her tiny arms around his torso.
“Gojo!” she squealed, “I had the best day ever! And now it’s even better that you’re here, I can’t wait to tell you all about it! Do you think we could go for ice cream since it’s Friday? Remember, you promised?”
Finally, she stopped her rambling to take a deep breath. Man, that kid could talk, not like Gojo really had a leg to stand on when it came to being overtalkative.
He stroked her long hair, “I’m so glad to hear that, my dear!” He made a show of looking at his watch, “Well, it seems we just might be able to fit some ice cream into our busy schedule. But it seems we’re missing something important—where’s your brother?”
As if on cue, the kindergarten classes appeared through the doors of the school and Megumi was amidst the crowd. Though the kid seemed to have a permanent scowl, he looked even more down as he shuffled towards where Gojo and Tsumiki were eagerly waving him over. Tsumiki quickly diverted her chatter towards her little brother, recapping her exciting day. However, she was ignored as Megumi pushed past her and shoved his porcupine head into the side of Gojo’s thigh.
Tsumiki pouted at this, looking exasperatedly at her caretaker, and he met her confused look with a simple shrug. He patted Megumi’s bony shoulder, “Gumi, what’s wrong? Did you have a bad day at school?”
Megumi kept his face firmly planted in Gojo’s slacks and firmly shook his head, grumbling something indistinguishable.
“What was that? You want tickles?” Gojo poked his cheek, causing Megumi to recoil from his position. However, his deep blue eyes met Gojo’s and looked far too troubled for someone of Megumi’s size, and Gojo found he couldn’t tease the kid any further.
“Do you… do you want me to carry you?” Gojo tried. Megumi nodded quickly, diverting his eyes, but lifted his arms towards Gojo. Gojo swiftly picked him up, he was short for his age, after all, and Megumi quickly hid his face in Gojo’s collar. Megumi was hardly ever this affectionate, so of course, this was cause for concern. Even Tsumiki picked up on it, as she worried her tiny hands, and looked between Gojo and her brother.
“Well,” Gojo diverted, “I think we all deserve some ice cream on this fine day. I promised, didn’t I?” He grabbed Tsumiki’s hand, pleased that this announcement seemed to take the worry out of her young expression.
Three rainbow sprinkle ice cream cones and a couple of hours later and the trio was back at their apartment. Tsumiki, as expected, was in good spirits, though Megumi was still downcast and attached to Gojo like a second shadow. Even as the tiny family watched Megumi’s favorite movie, the kid was just stuck in his foul mood and Gojo was starting to panic.
He discreetly pulled out his phone and found Shoko’s contact information, quickly typing out a stressed message.
Gojo: HELP! ASAP!
Shoko: Do I even want to know???
It’s 10PM on Fri how much trouble could u be in
Gojo: Noooo not for me 4 megumi
Shoko: ???
Gojo: He was upset & super clingy when I picked him up from school
ice cream & big hero 6 didn’t even help :/
Shoko: Have u tried talking to him?
Gojo: :| u r no help
Shoko: I’ll take that as no…
Gojo: ur blocked
Shoko: try it dumbass
Gojo sighed as the movie rolled to the credits, chancing a look towards Megumi. Sure enough, the kid’s face was still plastered with a frown and he had a death grip on Gojo’s arm. He reached for the remote, turning the television off.
“Alright, kiddos. Our teeth are brushed and our movie's over. Ready to head to bed?”
Always eager to please, Tsumiki jumped to her feet, ready to scamper to her bed. “Will you read a story? It’s my turn to pick!”
Gojo nodded with a smile and tried to stand, but was met with resistance as Megumi pulled him back to the couch.
“Megumi,” he sighed, “What’s wrong? Don’t want to go to bed?” Megumi vehemently shook his head; his eyes were full of fear. Gojo sat back down, “Buddy, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s up.”
Megumi stared at him, looking as if he weren’t ready to reveal what had him so upset. Gojo took a deep breath, trying to remember every tip Shoko had told him about dealing with childhood trauma and gentle parenting childrearing crap. He waited, feeling Megumi’s little hands shake where they grasped at his sleep shirt.
Megumi took a deep breath and quickly said, “Idontwantyoutoleave.”
And if that admission didn’t make Gojo’s cold heart clench in his chest. “Gumi, I’m not going to leave!”
Megumi didn’t look convinced. “Who else would get ice cream with me after school, or watch movies with me?” Megumi’s face remained unchanged.
“Do… do you want to sleep in my bed tonight?” Gojo offered, Megumi vehemently nodded his head, the fear seeming to subside from his eyes, and Tsumiki shouted happily, “Sleepover!!!”
After a bedtime story, Gojo found himself squished between two tiny bodies, and could already feel the phantom pain of the neck ache he was sure to feel tomorrow morning as he shared a pillow with Megumi. But both kids seemed to be content, Tsumiki was already snoring softly pressed up against his back. He tried to remind himself that was enough, that this was the reason he was doing all of this. He closed his eyes and willed sleep to come to him and to put the worrying thoughts of the day (and the last several years) out of his head.
Of course, he could never find himself to be so lucky, as he heard a tiny voice—Megumi, whisper, “Gojo, are you awake.”
He took a deep breath, “Yeah, buddy what’s up?”
Megumi shuttered, “Did—did you mean what you said earlier? You’re not going to leave, right?”
Gojo tried to make his tired voice seem confident, persuading enough to get through to the stubborn little kid next to him. “Of course, Megumi. I’m always going to be here, you know that right?”
After a few, too long seconds of his words hanging in the air, Megumi responded, voice a little shaky, “Yeah.”
Gojo didn’t feel all that reassured, “What’s got you asking so many hard questions today?”
“It’s just that,” Megumi stopped and Gojo willed himself to be patient, to respect the kid’s boundaries.
Why was this so hard? Why wasn’t he better at this?
Megumi sighed and all the words started to flow out, “It’s just at school we have a Parent’s baseball game before summer break and… and…”
Patience, patience. Let him finish. Don’t push, wait is that what Shoko said, or did she say push? Oh god.
“A kid said I wouldn’t get to play ‘cuz I don’t have a Mommy or Daddy. And—and, I said that I have you, but they said you’re not my real dad, and they’re right. They said we’re not a real family.” And suddenly it was like the dam broke and Megumi’s little body started heaving with sobs wracking his small frame.
Gojo was totally lost and didn’t know what to do besides holding the little guy close to him. He was wracking his brain for the right thing to say, but his doubt was creeping in. He felt like a failure—he was a failure. He’d never be able to provide what these kids truly needed and he felt like he was sinking, as Megumi’s tears bore into his shirt.
“Hey, hey… none of this. Don’t listen to those stupid kids.” Megumi sniffled and looked at him shocked. “I’ll show up to this baseball game and we’ll show that idiot up and win.”
Megumi sniffled again, his blue eyes boring into Gojo’s even through the darkness of the room. “Really?” Gojo nodded, he meant it all right. Though, he wasn’t sure at all if that’s what Megumi really needed from him.
They stumbled through the weekend without any further incidents and Megumi seemed to be in better spirits by the time he’d been dropped off at school on Monday morning. Gojo couldn’t say the same for his own spirits. He’d practically begged Shoko to meet up with him for lunch, and at this point, he was convinced he’d left irreversibly damage on his the kids.
“Let me get this straight,” Shoko paused in eating her lunch, leveling a glare at Satoru across the table. “Instead of reassuring him that you are a real family… you told him you’d beat this bully to a pulp… in a baseball game? In an elementary school baseball game?”
Gojo floundered for a second, “Please, tell me this isn’t how you deal with your actual clients. Because I think that might be a bigger issue than what I’m dealing with.” Somehow, she managed to darken her gaze. “Okay, yeah, I panicked. I didn’t know what else to say.”
When she didn’t say anything else, Gojo continued to spiral, “I mean that bully or whatever was right, I’m not his dad. We’re not a real family, and I’m sure that’s obvious to Megumi and Tsumiki at that preppy school Toji somehow got them in. Like, I swear at pick up, I’m not even sure if these kids are getting picked up by Nannys or what. It’s awful, but they’re all still dressed in designer yoga pants. You know what… That’s the real issue at hand, not whatever I have going on. And somehow my—Megumi is getting bullied for it.”
Now Shoko wasn’t just looking at him like he was crazy, she was looking at him like he was a vulnerable corpse on a table, and she was a coroner ready to dissect him and uncover his dirty secrets. She looked at him seriously and Gojo almost wished she’d throw him a smirk so he wouldn’t feel like he was getting psychoanalyzed.
“Tell me, Satoru. What’s a normal family look like to you?”
He groaned, “Stop!!! Please stop, you know this already. You’ve known me forever—you know the answer.”
The last thing Gojo wanted to think about was the cold family life he experienced as a kid. His parents knew what they wanted for him and if he strayed from it, their love certainly felt conditional. Well, Gojo guessed it probably was conditional, given how quickly they’d shut him out when he broke from the plans they had set for him.
Shoko looked smug but surprised him when she quickly changed the subject and picked up her phone. “Hey, do you remember Suguru Geto?”
Gojo felt his heart in his throat, but somehow managed to work through it as he coolly said, “Yeah, why?”
Suguru and Satoru had been inseparable throughout high school. The institution for “gifted” individuals Gojo had been shuffled into for higher education had introduced him to his only friends in his adolescents, Shoko and Geto, as the trio had been forced together in their small cohort. They’d stayed friends after graduation, keeping in touch as their post-graduation plans hadn’t kept them far from each other.
When all the shit with Toji hit the fan and Gojo dropped out of the music academy to become a full-time house-husband, all his friends had been pissed, to say the least. Shoko had tracked him down and given him an ear full. Hell, even Nanami and Haibara had pestered him. But despite their anger, they’d come back to Gojo after time. They’d forgiven him for the mistakes he made and the bridges he burned. All but Geto.
When Geto heard what happened, heard that Gojo had been cut off by his family, he’d reached out to Gojo, asked him to meet up and talk about what was happening. It had gone horribly wrong. The exchange ended in the two screaming at each other in front of a KFC. Geto told him that he was throwing everything away and how could he listen to that when he was so in love, had the opportunity to be a part of a real family, to actually do something he felt was right. How could Geto not see that?
After that, Gojo hadn’t heard from Geto. Well, there had been the occasional social media post and happy birthday text, but nothing of substance. Gojo had lost his best friend, his one and only.
Gojo was pulled from his spiraling thoughts, as Shoko delved into her own recap. “Well, did you hear that he adopted twin girls?”
No, what the fuck? He hadn’t heard that.
But Gojo barely had time to dwell on that, because Shoko was continuing her info dump, “Super sad story, so I won’t go into that, but he’s actually moving back into the area. He just texted me about it the other day. He wants to help his girls make some friends. You know since they’re moving right before the summer. Wait you do know the kids stay home in the summer, right?”
Fuck her, of course, he knew that.
He’d already arranged an agreement with Nanami to work from home, but that was beside the point. She wanted him to have a playdate with Geto? With his kids that Gojo didn’t even know about? Did she even have the slightest clue about how things ended between the two?
“Uh, Shoko?” Gojo chanced, still slightly shocked at all this information, “I really doubt Geto would want to see me now, let alone a playdate with the kids I threw away my life for.”
Shoko leveled another glare at him, but something in her expression softened in a way that only she could manage. Damn, psychologists. “Come on, Satoru, that was years ago. We were kids, it’s been so long, I’m sure he’s past that.”
Gojo wasn’t so sure and crossed his arms, feeling rather uneasy, which was an emotion he never appreciated. “Think about it. His family is a little weird too, but they’re happy,” Shoko smiled, “I’ve seen him with those girls—” Gojo’s chest tightened in a way that only furthered his uneasiness, “—they’re happy. They really are. Don’t you think that would be good for Megumi to see? Especially with the way he’s feeling right now.”
Damn that cursed woman, bringing a child into this. Gojo sighed. “Fine, okay. But you have to be there as a mediator at first,” Shoko’s entire face illuminated in a way that was incredibly rare and almost made Gojo feel slightly better about the whole situation, “and you have to plan everything. Okay?”
Shoko clapped her hands together, “It’s settled! Don’t you worry about a thing, boss.”
But, Gojo really doubted if that was possible for him to do that anymore.