Work Text:
There is no man or woman more beautiful than Suguru Getou, Satoru decides when he first lays his eyes on him. From his neatly tied long hair, with stupid bangs that he somehow wore handsomely, to the straight slope of his nose leading into sweet pink lips, framed by the sharp curve of his jawline.
He was breathtaking.
Satoru would spend hours in class ignoring Professor Yaga to stare at the focused furrow of Getou’s brows, the way he chewed the inside of his cheek when he was bored, the way his fingers curled gracefully around his heavy metal mechanical pencil, flicking his wrist and guiding it to roll around his fingers.
(He spent an hour afterschool sat on his bed trying to spin his pen instead of doing his homework, but he could never get the movements to look half as effortless as Getou’s, with his knobbly pink knuckles and blue veins protruding through pale skin)
It is November, 2006, when Satoru first wonders how it’d be like to kiss Getou. The winter cold had just begun to reach Tokyo, and there was a near-permanent flush high on the apples of Getou’s cheeks, whether from the chill or the relief of the warm kotatsu in the shared lounge that Getou, Shoko, and him spent most of their time away from missions and classes huddled under. He is warming his hands with a bottle of hot green tea and he’s laughing at something Shoko said, but Satoru pays her no mind as he watches Getou.
🔹🔹🔹
Over fried chicken with only the dark winter sky watching, Suguru Getou tells Satoru to call him “Suguru”.
“Really~? Next thing you know, you’ll be professing your undying love to me!”
“Okay, you’ve lost your rights! I’m taking that back, I hate you!”
“Nooo!! You can’t take that back, Su-gu-ru~!!”
“Shut up! I hope you die slowly and painfully!!”
They walk back to the dorms, and maybe their knuckles brush together a few times, but neither of them mention it.
Later, alone on his cold twin mattress, Satoru will wonder if Suguru really was that against the thought of loving Satoru.
🔹🔹🔹
Suguru’s palms are rough and calloused, fingers thick and just slightly shorter than Satoru’s.
They were sparring, Suguru winning by a landslide. (His hair-tie snapped unexpectedly early on in the fight and them all Satoru could focus on was how silky and soft Suguru’s hair looked, stuck to his forehead with sweat) Satoru was pinned in just short of three minutes, and Satoru couldn’t even complain from his place below Suguru, his strong thighs pressing Satoru into the foam padded floors.
Satoru thinks he could spend hours there, beneath Suguru, just the fabric of their uniforms between them.
But Suguru gets up, pulling Satoru up by his arm, giggles a little at Satoru's expression. Satoru pulls infinity up, and Suguru’s hand is pushed away.
🔹🔹🔹
He can’t stop staring at Suguru’s hands.
They were so warm-
So soft,
He could get addicted to it.
🔹🔹🔹
February comes quickly. With that, Valentine's Day.
By seven in the morning, the mailbox at Jujutsu High is overflowing with pink envelopes, handmade chocolates, and boxes of strawberry pocky. Suguru receives twenty-five confessions and Satoru receives three. However, Getou barely spares the letters a glance before tossing them into the paper bin and he hands the chocolate to Satoru.
On the top of the stack of sweets sits a small plastic bag of clearly handmade chocolates that Gojo hadn’t seen in the mailbox. It must’ve been under the letters, though the bonbons show no sign of being crushed. The bag is tied with a cute pink ribbon and each of the chocolates are decorated with pristine little flowers and hearts. Some girl must’ve spent hours preparing them, and here Getou was, not even looking at them before handing them off to Satoru.
“ Ehhh~? Why’s Suguru giving me these? I’m usually your sweets dumpster, but these are too nice! Come on, have one, for whichever poor girl made these~!”
“Mmnh, but you like things like this, no? I’d rather give these to someone who’d actually enjoy them. If I kept them, I’d just let them sit on my desk for a month and then toss them…”
“Ack, you’re so mean! So many girls are fawning over you, and you don’t even give them the light of day~ if only they knew how their beautiful prince Su-gu-ru treated their gifts!” Satoru opens the bag of chocolates anyways. “Wow, these are good- You could have a girlfriend by now, Su-gu-ru~ but you reject every girl that confesses to you!
Suguru sigs, and there’s this wistful sort of look in his eyes. “I don’t just want some girl , Satoru.”
Ah? “ Ehhhh?! Does Suguru have a crush on someone~!?”
The way Suguru blushes is enough of an answer, and the way he stammers only cements it further.
Suguru likes someone.
🔹🔹🔹
It really shouldn’t bother Satoru this much.
He should be proud of his friend-
But the thought of Suguru with someone else is like a dagger to his heart.
🔹🔹🔹
“You are down fucking atrocious, Gojo.”
Shoko notices. Of course she does. Satoru doesn’t respond to her. She presses a cold bottle of Pocari Sweat against his forehead. “You need to figure this out.” without another word, she pulls a crumpled box of Seven Stars cigarettes and walks away.
🔹🔹🔹
Satoru is failing miserably at the whole getting-over-Suguru thing. It’s getting warm, so he’s out of his uniform more, and Satoru can’t help but watch the gleaming rivulets of sweat collecting at his brow.
He has fallen considerably further in love, actually.
Suguru always cared so much- the type of guy to help old ladies cross the street with a smile on his face. He’d always said that because he was strong, it was his duty to help and protect the weak.
He was so good, and Satoru couldn’t help but wonder who captured his affections. Frankly, there was no way in hell that person actually deserved Suguru’s love- Suguru deserved to be worshipped, and who better than Satoru? Why was there someone better than Satoru, enough to captivate the likes of Getou Suguru?
So, on a warm spring afternoon, he asks Suguru.
“Who do you like, anyways?” He huffs, rolling a can of Pepsi on the back of his neck.
Suguru flushes. “You’re still on this?”
“Well, Suguru i~s my bestest friend,” he pauses to flit his lashes dramatically at Suguru. “So I think it’s quite cruel that he’s been keeping secrets from me! I deserve to know, don’t I~?”
Suguru walks a bit faster in lieu of a response, but Satoru remains close behind him.
“Come on, Su-gu-ru!”
Suguru brings the side of his hand onto Satoru's head in a chopping motion.“I don't want to talk about it.”
Suguru is blushing, light pink gracing the peaks of his cheekbones. “Come on, which girl wouldn’t want you? You’re seen our mailbox on Valentine's day, Suguru!”
“I said , Satoru, that I didn’t want to talk about it !” By the end of the sentence, Suguru’s voice has risen to a shout.
“Fuck, sorry, Suguru, I’m-”
“Just- just don’t push it, Satoru.”
They walk back to the dorms in silence.
🔹🔹🔹
Suguru has been avoiding Satoru. Gojo is sure it’s because of his crush.
Whoever this girl was, Gojo was sure she didn’t deserve Suguru.
🔹🔹🔹
Soon, Satoru and Suguru are glued to each other's sides again. One of the merits of being in a class of only three people and constantly working together, Satoru thinks. He’s happy they are back to normal, even if Suguru wouldn’t hold his gaze for longer than a few seconds.
🔹🔹🔹
Suguru goes back to his family over the summer. They text every day, but Gojo can’t help but miss him.
🔹🔹🔹
The new school year is hectic.
There are new first years (Satoru and Suguru didn’t have upperclassmen, and Satoru found it so very entertaining to be called “senpai”.), Hashibara Yuu and Nanami Kento. Yuu is fun, always smiling and excited to see his seniors- and Nanami is the complete opposite. They’re fast friends, though. (Reluctantly on Nanami’s end, but it’s not like he has any other options.)
Autumn passes quickly, and winter just as fast. They spend Christmas in a crowded K.F.C., over fried chicken and soggy fries. A thin layer of snow blankets Tokyo and Satoru warms his hands in Suguru's pockets.
🔹🔹🔹
Spring 2007 is hot and humid. They spend their days sparring and evenings lazing around, in the warmth of Shoko’s cigarette smoke and laughter.
Gojo has never been happier.
As a child of the Gojo clan, real friends were something Satoru never thought he’d have,
But here he was, pressed between the heat of two other people-
Two people that weren’t here because of his family name.
🔹🔹🔹
Getou’s hair is getting longer.
It’s a struggle for Gojo to keep his hands off of the silky black, so he doesn’t. When he sits beside Getou, he always has an arm behind the other boy, twirling the hair on his nape that has fallen out of his bun. The heat of Getou’s body against his hand was addicting.
Some evenings, after particular missions, he wishes he could curl up and lie within Suguru forever.
🔹🔹🔹
[REC • 2007/04/13 10:48]
From the phone of Shoko Ieri
Video length: 2:38
Play Video?
[Yes] No
The recording is shaky, and the camerawoman is laughing hysterically.
The blurry Motorola Razr's camera is pointed at two boys, clinging onto each other for dear life. The one with light hair has his arms around the shorter brunette’s shoulders, pulling him in. The brunette is pushing his face away clumsily and mumbling something that cannot be picked up by the phone’s mediocre audio recording systems.
However, what the blonde is saying is very loud- and plays through the phone speakers clear and crisp.
“ I- This is me, the honoura- honourable Gojo Satoru, he-” he hiccups, “going on record to say that I! Love! Suguru! Getou!!!”
The brunette, Getou, pokes Gojo’s cheek. “Don’ be stupid, Sato! Just say’n shit like that.”
Gojo just giggles and continues hollering. “I wanna tell the whole world!! There’s nothing in this world that I love more than Suguru~!!”
Getou punches him in the stomach.
“Gah-” Gojo doubles over in pain, squatting on the floor.
“Fucking dumbass, why didn’t you have infinity up?” Getou shakes Gojo by the shoulders. “What the fuuuuuuuck, Satoru, you dolt,” Suguru seems to be holding back tears.
“Woah why are you crying?! I’m fine, you’d never hurt me Suguru, I trust youuuuuuuu!”
“But I literally just did, I hurt you, aughhhh!!!!”
“Nooooo, Suguru, you’d never!” Satoru lifts up his shirt. “See, all fine~!!”
The camerawoman flips her phone around, shakily recording herself. “They are so stupid. I’m never letting them near alcohol again.” She flips her phone around again. Gojo and Getou are now both ugly crying on eachother. “I don’t know why I still hang around them.”
The recording ends with her leaving the room, presumably for a cigarette.
Delete video?
[Yes] No
Are you sure?
[Yes] No
🔹🔹🔹
They don’t talk about it.
🔹🔹🔹
Life goes on.
They meet the Star Plasma Vessel.
They meet Toji Fushiguro.
Gojo dies.
Riko dies.
🔹🔹🔹
The keloids on his forehead and chest are no match for Reverse Cursed Technique. In a matter of hours, all that remains is smooth, unmarred skin.
He still feels it, though. The way metal dragged through his ribs and pecs and lower and lower, messily gutting him. Every time he closes his eyes, he feels like he’s dead again. ( Dying was peaceful, silent, and warm. )
He sees it in the way Getou looks at him.
🔹🔹🔹
Satoru Gojo is weak.
If he wasn’t,
Then Riko Amanai could have lived,
And Suguru Getou wouldn’t have gotten hurt.
🔹🔹🔹
He pushes himself further and further.
With Reverse Cursed Technique, he has unlocked so much.
The higher-ups see this, too, so he gets sent on more and more solo missions-
He misses Suguru.
🔹🔹🔹
Haibara Yuu dies. Gojo takes over the mission.
Kento Nanami leaves. Gojo fills his role.
Jujutsu High has never felt emptier.
🔹🔹🔹
He tries to seek out Suguru, but he only seems to be at the school when Satoru isn’t- on the rare occasion where he is , he’s usually locked in his room.
The retching reverberates through the dorms.
🔹🔹🔹
He should’ve paid more attention.
He saw Suguru's dark circles, the slope of his back-
but to Satoru, Suguru was always so secure.
and now, Suguru is gone.
🔹🔹🔹
He can’t sleep. He can’t eat. He can’t look anywhere too long because despite the gaping hole Suguru’s defection left, he was still here, everywhere, in the pencil-graffitied desks and in the dented gym walls. Every brick was stained with three years of memories, three years of loving.
Satoru thinks that, maybe, if Suguru had asked him to join him, he would’ve.
His stomach cramps with hunger and distantly he can hear someone (Shoko, probably) knocking on his door. He doesn’t move to open the door.
There are red lines running down his arms. He doesn’t know when he started, nor when he stopped, but his fingers were sore and his arms were scratched raw. He doesn’t bother to heal them.
He just lays on his hardwood floor, where he and Suguru used to sit and laugh and if he stares at the ceiling long enough his wandering mind will play Suguru’s song of a laugh quietly in the back of his brain, and he’ll close his eyes and pretend Suguru is pressed against him and laughing and okay. That everything is well and the sun is streaming through his window and he is warm, loved, and simply waking up from a bad dream.
And then he opens his eyes again, and his room is cold and empty.
🔹🔹🔹
But, at the end of the day, he is the strongest, and he needs to stand up- because if not, who else will?
🔹🔹🔹
Satoru Gojo is twenty-seven and has his life together. Thank you very much.
He’s got two kids, a job, and is definitely, totally, over his high-school ex that he never even dated, because it’s kind of pathetic to say he isn’t over his high-school crush.
Okay, he’s pathetic anyways.
But he’s a teacher now, protecting the youth, being the strongest, being the best in general- and who cares how Suguru was doing? Satoru was in his prime. He’s healthy, he’s wealthy, he’s that bitch!
He was doing great.
🔹🔹🔹
Satoru is not doing great.
His ex-but-not-really-because-he-never-got-the-guts-to-ask-him-out-before-he-went-genocidal was here! At Jujutsu High! In a big fucking pelican!
Suguru greets him with a casual tone Satoru never thought he’d hear again, and declares war.
🔹🔹🔹
From the Phone of Shoko Ieri
View hidden album?
[Yes] No
10/03/2006
A selfie, of a 16-year-old Shoko Ieri. the end of a lollipop hangs out of her mouth and she’s holding up a peace sign. Behind her, not noticing (or ignoring) the camera, are two boys, Satoru Gojo and Suguru Getou. They sit pressed shoulder to shoulder. Osmanthus blossoms flutter down around them, benches and stone-slab ground covered in yellow pixels.
12/18/2006
A picture of Shoko, Satoru and Suguru sitting in the booth of a KFC.
3/19/2007
The moon.
3/26/2007
A picture of two boys with their fingers tangled together, wrists sporting matching string bracelets stretched from everyday wear.
Delete hidden album?
Yes [No]
🔹🔹🔹
Shoko doesn’t know why she keeps doing this to herself.
Getou was dead. Gojo had broken down in her clinic, shuddering with tears that fell silently onto her tiled floors.
She found herself reaching for the pack of menthol cigarettes that were pressed to the very back of her drawer. She shook her head and pulled down a window, leaning her head out with an ancient convenience store lighter in hand, lighting the cigarette and taking a long drag.
🔹🔹🔹
One for Gojo, one for Getou, one for Haibara, and one for each of those kids.
She reached for the cardboard box, finding it empty.
She crushes it in her fist.
She feels it in her throat first, and then she is curled up against the cold, cold wall of her office, crying into her shaking palms.
Her streaking mascara settles into the wrinkles of her eye bags, they stain her hands with carbon.
🔹🔹🔹
“At least after he left, I still knew that he was… alive and well, you know?”
Shoko hums.
“Like, he was… he was…”
Shoko lets Satoru lean his head on her shoulder.
“I guess… I saw that he was happier leaving, and… I… I couldn’t stop him,”
Shoko wraps her arm around his shoulder.
“And, like… I- I just… I let him go, because I wanted- I-”
Shoko presses her lips to Satoru’s hair. She hugs him as tears roll down his cheeks. “You don’t have to say it, Satoru. We all just wanted him to be happy. Especially you.”
🔹🔹🔹
She sees the three of them in the new first-years. She knows Satoru sees it too.
🔹🔹🔹
There is something wearing Suguru Getou’s skin.
It’s a mockery, harsh cruel lines cutting across Getou’s features.
Satoru must stop him.
He needs to give Suguru a proper burial this time.